#and you’re just gonna get hurt when canon continues to canon
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Welcome Home
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Requested: Yes, by anon
Summary: Sam gets an unexpected call from Y/N, which brings another surprise for Dean
Word Count: 2.7K
Tags/Warnings: Dad!Dean, canon-typical mentions of blood/violence
A/N: In my "everything i write sucks" era but thanks to @seatsbythepit for her consistent beta services! I think this was in my inbox for a (long) while so I finally got this out!
DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST
Sam frowned, glancing at his phone where it was lighting up with an incoming call from a number he didn’t know.
Not many people had this number, so he picked up warily, as Dean looked up.
“Hello?”
There was a short silence on the other end of the line before a familiar voice reached his ears.
“Sam?”
Sam froze.
“Y/N?”
Dean sat up straighter, his eyes flicking toward his brother but Sam wasn’t paying attention.
It had been more than 2 years since you’d left and not a day had gone by that Dean didn’t blame himself for it. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, the last fight still haunted him - the look in your eyes when those hurtful words had cut across the room, the defeated sound in your voice as you looked him in the eyes and told him that if that’s what he thought of you, there was no point to all this.
After you left, he’d spent too many days staring at your name in his lists of contacts, his thumb hovering over the call button. The days ticked by, and soon it was way too late for Dean to call or reach out so he was left with replaying the last conversation you’d ever had like he needed to torture himself to make up for the hurt.
“Where are you?” Sam’s voice pulled Dean out of his thoughts and he frowned. That was never a good sign.
Sam spoke in a low voice before he nodded and hung up.
Dean stared at his younger brother as Sam stood, pausing as his eyes flicked toward Dean who was watching intently.
“Dean, she…”
Dean nodded, his eyes flicking back downward. “Yeah, I don’t blame her.”
“Look, why don’t you help from here, alright? I’ll make sure she’s alright.” Sam said, although he knew it must be killing Dean.
“Yeah, just let me know what you need,” Dean responded, failing to hide the slight dejection in his voice as Sam left.
“Sammy.”
His name flowed off your lips the moment you opened the door, feeling familiar yet foreign at the same time. Yet, it was really good to see him.
Sam just smiled, enveloping you in a tight hug the way only an older brother would. “It’s good to see you.”
You nodded, smiling.
“You flying solo?” Sam asked, frowning.
You shook your head. “I’m not hunting. Not really. We were just passing through and I wanted to just run, but I… I couldn’t. Now, my friend’s sister is missing and I just…”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Wait. We?”
You gave him a guilty smile. “That’s why I called.” You paused before continuing. “And why I asked you to come alone. I didn’t think I should surprise Dean out here.”
Sam gave you a confused look and you exhaled slowly.
Without saying anything more, you led Sam into the room, as his eyes fell upon a two-year-old kid. A kid who was unmistakably Dean’s son as he gripped a miniature Impala car in his hand where he was sitting on the ground.
Sam looked at you in surprise.
You nodded. “This is Leo.”
It was probably a Winchester thing but Leo took to Sam almost immediately despite the fact he never let anyone else but you carry him for the past two years.
You remembered how he’d wail in the doctor's or nurse’s arms but he seemed perfectly content sitting in Uncle Sammy’s arms now, playing with Sam’s hair.
“I was gonna get a friend to watch him, but if he likes you so much…”
Sam looked at you like you were crazy. “You’re not going alone.”
You exhaled slowly and nodded, like you’d already expected this answer from him.
Instead, Sam asked to review the information you had. It felt almost like the good old days, as you watched Sam pore over the notes you had at the small desk at the motel, the only thing different being that Dean wasn’t here and you had a two-year-old who’d fallen asleep in your arms.
You knew Sam was planning to call Dean when he left to get dinner but you pretended like you didn’t, busying yourself with preparing Leo’s meal.
When Sam returned with food for the both of you, you glanced at him and he nodded. “Yeah, I called Dean. Look, you know the research there is helpful. It won’t hurt.”
You shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”
Sam glanced up at you. “What’s the plan, Y/N? Why didn’t you tell him? Or me?”
You glanced over your shoulder at where Leo was sleeping soundly and sighed softly. “I don’t know. I guess… I guess Dean and I never really had the talk. I didn’t know where he stood with regards to having kids, especially in this life.”
You paused, looking up at Sam momentarily before continuing. “Besides, we’d broken up. I thought he’d try to come and get me but… well, he didn’t. By the time I found out I was pregnant, too much time had passed and I didn’t know how to tell him.”
Sam nodded quietly, letting you continue.
“But I got out. I didn’t let Leo into this part of our life. Until today. And I hate it that he’s here when there’s a nest of fucking vamps right here. I didn’t…”
Sam reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “You were right to call. No matter what, it never hurts to have someone looking out for you.”
You smiled. “Well, I’m glad it’s you…”
“And Dean. Sorta.” You added after a small silence.
The conversation was cut short by Sam’s phone and he quickly answered it. “Anything good?”
You could hear the crackle of Dean’s voice and you felt your heart give a jolt. A jolt that didn’t exactly surprise you. Of course, how could you ever get over Dean Winchester?
You could vaguely hear Dean giving Sam some additional information before Sam hung up, glancing at you.
“You sure about this, Y/N?”
You glanced at Leo before nodding. You planted a firm kiss on Leo’s head, nodding to your friend, Samantha.
“Don’t worry. Sam’s great at what he does. We’ll figure this out.”
She nodded back at you, assuring you that Leo was in safe hands.
It was your first hunt in a long while, but being a hunter seemed to already be a part of your DNA.
Armed with the information that Dean had dug up, you and Sam managed to infiltrate the nest, easily lopping heads of vampires off as they were caught off-guard. You were glad Sam was there to have your back, especially when you both made your way to the dead center of the nest.
“Sharon?” You kept your voice low.
You headed to where she was huddled in the corner. You didn’t know Sharon well but you’d met once or twice when you’d come up here to meet Samantha.
“Y/N?”
Her voice shook slightly.
You nodded. “Yeah. I promised Samantha I’d bring you home.”
Sharon looked around, her eyes flicking to a dead body lying to the side. “They’re…”
You shook your head at Sharon. “Sharon, look at me. We’re going to get you home alright? Trust me.”
“Come on, Y/N.” Sam urged gently.
Of course, you knew hunts never went that smoothly.
A growl alerted you that a vamp had joined you and your body stiffened, the grip on the machete in your hand tightening.
“Sam, get her out of here.”
“Y/N.” Sam’s voice was stressed and you recognized it, the struggle between leaving you here and taking Sharon to safety.
“I’ll be fine.” You assured him, glancing back at the new arrival.
Sam didn’t answer but you knew the exact moment when he took Sharon and left, their footsteps seeming to echo as they got further away.
“You hunters are the real monsters.” The vampire droned, staring at you. “Here we are, just trying to survive and you break into our home and kill my entire family.”
You tried to stifle the sarcastic laughter that was at the tip of your tongue.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
You knew it was coming before the vampire twitched, and you swung your machete upward as he rushed toward you.
The vampire sidestepped, missing the machete by inches as it growled, even more determined to get you.
You stepped back again as it lunged at you, your heart sinking as you felt yourself lose your footing.
Fuck.
You rolled out of the way but the vampire was too quick, pouncing upon you.
You raised your machete but it was too close, the machete inching closer toward you as the vampire bared its fangs at you.
You held onto a single thought. You had to get home to Leo.
Then, as if by sheer willpower, the unmistakable sound of a blade swishing through the air before the vampire’s head rolled off its shoulders.
“Dean?”
Dean had lasted all of five minutes after the last call with Sam before he’d muttered a “screw this” to himself and torn his way out of the bunker and down to where Sam and you were.
You were still stunned as Dean rolled what was left of the vampire off you and helped you up.
“You alright? Are you hurt?” Dean’s eyes studied you, unable to differentiate if the blood on you was the result of any injuries you might have sustained before he’d arrived.
You shook your head. “I’m fine.”
The atmosphere sank into awkwardness as the both of you stood there now in silence.
“Sorry, Y/N. I know you wanted me to sit this one out, but I…”
You shook your head and interrupted him. “No, I… Thanks, Dean.”
You fell back into silence, both of you walking out toward the exit to Sam.
“God, Y/N!” Sharon’s stressed voice made her way to you first but you didn’t miss the surprised look Sam gave his brother even as you were assuring Sharon you weren’t hurt.
You looked up to see Dean quietly heading to the Impala, and before you could think through your next move, you were running toward him.
“Dean.”
Dean paused and turned to look at you.
You took a deep breath. “We need to talk.”
There was a look in Dean’s eyes that sat somewhere between confusion and intrigue.
You looked down at your blood-stained clothes and smiled. “Give me a few hours and I’ll come meet you at the bunker?”
The words rolled off your tongue feeling foreign yet welcoming at the same time.
“The bunker?” Dean asked.
You shrugged. “Or wherever you guys want. If you don’t want me there.”
Dean shook his head. “That’s not what I…” He paused before continuing. “See you there.”
You watched the Impala drive off before you turned back to look at Sam, who had a small smile on his face, and you knew he’d heard everything.
You’d delivered Sharon safely back to Samantha, who hadn’t asked any questions, just glad to see her sister again. and you even managed to shower and change before Leo even noticed you and Sam were gone.
Now, Sam pulled up outside the bunker and you took a deep breath.
“Ready?” Sam asked softly.
You gave a short laugh. “Never.”
You felt everything at the same time as you took Leo in your arms and walked into the bunker, the memories seeming to hit you all at once - the way this place made you feel, the laughter in your head that belonged to a memory of the three of you as you sat in Dean's embrace.
Even if this was the same place where things had ended, it was the happy memories that followed you as you walked down the stairs now.
Dean stepped out of the kitchen, freezing in his footsteps.
His eyes took in the sight before him, a kid that looked like a carbon copy of himself except for the eyes that were undoubtedly yours.
“Y/N…”
You cleared your throat and exhaled.
“Hey Leo, let’s go find you some snacks,” Sam said, reaching his hands out for Leo.
Leo cracked a smile and allowed Sam to pick him out of your arms. “Pie!”
Sam glanced over at Dean, unable to hide a chuckle. “I’m sure we have that.”
The silence that followed was almost loud as Dean looked at you in disbelief and you cleared your throat. “Let’s talk.”
Dean led the way into the library, unsure if he should be pissed or happy to see you.
You leaned against one of the tables, as Dean looked back at you.
“Sorry.” You said quietly, looking down. You knew Dean had every right to be angry and you braced yourself for the rise in his voice but nothing came.
You glanced up at him again, meeting the green eyes you’d sorely missed.
Met with Dean’s silence you spoke again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. By the time I found out about it, too much time had passed since the last time we spoke. I stared at your number but I was afraid. I…” You took another breath. “We never talked about this. I didn’t know if you’d be happy or not and I chickened out.”
“So were you never going to tell me?” Dean finally asked.
You couldn’t really determine the tone of his voice but you shook your head.
“I… I kinda was on the way here.” You said quietly.
Dean’s eyebrows shot up.
“I didn’t really have a plan.” You said. “Part of me thought if I just drove here, I wouldn’t be able to back out anymore. Then, that nest of vamps kidnapped my friend’s sister so I…”
“So you called Sam.” It was a statement.
You gave him a tentative smile. “Didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing Leo without an explanation in the middle of a hunt.”
Dean exhaled slowly.
“So what now?” Dean asked.
You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid your eyes would give you away. The eyes that screamed how you were still in love with him and that you’d missed him every single day that you’d been apart. The way your heart crumbled every time Leo smiled because it reminded you of Dean, and how all you wanted was to be enveloped in those arms again.
Even as those thoughts ran through your mind, you felt the prick of tears because this was exactly why you’d put off telling Dean about Leo.
“I don’t know, D.” You answered quietly.
Your voice cracked slightly and you hoped Dean hadn’t picked up on it.
“Y/N.” He called, forcing you to look up at him, even though the tears blurred your vision.
Dean closed the gap between the both of you, one hand cupping your face as he pressed his lips against yours, his other arm snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him.
“God, I missed you,” Dean whispered, as he pulled away just a little, your faces still pressed together.
You buried your face into his shoulder without saying anything, feeling your tears get absorbed into the shirt he had on.
You needn’t have worried about Leo. You looked at you son clutching the tiny toy Impala while he sat in his father's arms almost triumphantly as they came back in. Dean had brought Leo to see the real thing, and Leo had a ball of a time just sitting in the Impala.
“Mama, can we stay?” Leo asked with anticipation in his voice.
You froze. Dean and you hadn’t talked about anything. He’d kissed you, you’d hugged and then you’d gotten him out of that library to meet his son.
Dean closed the gap between the two of you, putting Leo into a giant hug between the both of you before he reached out for your hand.
“Stay,” Dean said quietly.
You glanced up at him.
“I’m not going to lose you again.” Dean added, squeezing your hand gently. “Not for anything in the world.”
The words felt stuck in your throat, but you glanced at Leo and smiled. “Yeah, we’re staying with Daddy and Uncle Sammy.”
Dean leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips amidst Leo's triumphant yells.
Sam moved forward to press you into a hug. “Welcome home, Y/N.”
THANK YOU FOR READING!! PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS!!
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Character taglists are open, hit me up if you would like to be added!
#dean winchester x reader#resa.fics#dean winchester#supernatural#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester oneshot#resa's requests#supernatural fanfic#spn fanfic#spn oneshot#dad!dean#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x y/n
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just wanna say I agree wholeheartedly with your tags on that fandom post. I have been following sunny on here since 2015 and there is a constant cycle of sensitive, and frankly delusional people, who claim the show, make crazy headcanons and justifications to make it tolerable and acceptable to them before they eventually shun and condemn the show altogether. it was very bad in 2018 and made me withdraw from the fandom lmao. I remember being most annoyed with the endless woobifying of charlie and the absolute condemnation of dee above everyone else. like, they're all bad. that's the point of the show. I just don't understand how they could stomach it in the first place
You are a warrior, dude.
The reason it took me so long to join Sunnyblr in the first place was the fact that ~early 2020 I was rarely seeing anything here that was based in canon, mostly weird headcanons that made no sense to me, and Reddit genuinely seemed like a more based place to exist for this show.
I literally needed a friend to give me specific accounts to follow because the tag was (and, sorry, lowkey still is) a nightmare. (Though to be fair I’ve been in fandoms on Tumblr for over a decade and literally never liked scrolling tags.)
I got into Sunny and I fell in love with Sunny because of canon. Because it’s so fucking weird and fucked up but it’s FUNNY, and there’s genuinely nothing like it. The characters are horrible stupid terrible people but they’re actually deeply complex and rich to study, so much so that you feel extremely compelled in a multitude of ways to dedicate yourself to some part of them, or all parts of them. But.. if you strip them of those core identities, of what the characters stand for, that compulsion is gone, void, irrelevant.
Because it’s the extremely raw, almost purely acting on basic instinct, unfiltered humanity, worst parts of the self, inability to recognise or follow societal norms aspects of these characters that are relatable. It’s relatable in a way that *should* make you uncomfortable, feel unsettled, and maybe a little relieved that these parts of people can be acknowledged... That’s a unique and interesting feeling, something people engage with media like this to explore and expand upon, and it’s often something that genuinely helps or supports people who wrestle with a lot of the heavy concepts Sunny satirises (and sometimes just, shoves at you head on).
When people start to disregard all of this, for whatever reason they do, that’s when you end up with the Fandom using Sunny Characters as an “ability to project” or (much worse) a “near blank canvas to play with” (because, yeah, if you strip them of their literal reason for being created and continued existence, ofc you lose their whole identity!?)
The problem seems to be that either 1) they just don’t understand the show well enough to get that they’re disregarding this aspect of the plots and characters, and so they genuinely don’t recognise that the fandom for Sunny exists because of these terrible compulsions and insane trauma exploration and that’s why we enjoy discussing and playing with these characters or 2) they do understand this but they can’t engage with it without some kind of personal moral conundrum or extreme discomfort, so they have to sanitise or completely alter the characters to enjoy them.
The thing is, if you fall into category 2, you just don’t belong in the depths of it all, and it’s an unfortunate truth you have to face. If you cannot enjoy canon, if the actual show makes you extremely uncomfortable and you’re only here for a gay ship or to project your gender and sexuality onto one character, you need to go stan something else. I say that with the greatest intentions for you. As Anon here has stated, it’s an insane cycle in this fandom over and over, you’re just going to upset yourself and resent the show and the people here, because we like the canon and the fuckery because that’s what the show is for. That is the literal point of the show at the end of the day.
Now if you’re in category 1, I heavily encourage you to actually *talk to people about the show and the characters*, read analysis, watch the episodes with different frames of reference and in alternate states of mind. Do your own analysis or character work, try and just write out the plot of your favourite episode and put to words *why* you like it. Hell, try and write a fanfic or a spec script from the mind of one of the characters, even if you think you can’t write.
Honestly, honestly, honestly, if you genuinely like this show at face value but you’re only engaging with fanon because you feel like you ‘shouldn’t’ openly enjoy the canon because it’s seen as ‘bad,’ the best thing you can do is have a conversation with someone, or multiple people, who get the show.
That being said, I do wanna open this shell Discord I’ve made to people. For people who *enjoy* the canon, who want to discuss actual Sunny (and also have fun with it, of course!) you’re welcome to join.
A lot of you get it. I’ve made some amazing friends in this fandom and regularly have extremely stimulating and insanely throught provoking convos with the people I’ve met here. I love it, it drives my insane passion for this show and I am eternally grateful to have found people who love this show for what it is. I hope, if you’re struggling to figure out why you like this show or struggling to accept that you like media like Sunny, you reach out or join a conversation and learn to love it too. And if you don’t, if you genuinely hate the canon of this show and only like the version of Macdennis you saw in a dozen different Tiktok edits to Taylor Swift songs, I really hope you move on for your own sake.
#iasip#main tag fuck it#ask#and i’ll say in the tags here#macdennis would be ‘proship’ in literally any other fandom#accept it and make peace with it okay?#all of their canon moments are non con or dubcon at best#and that’s FUCKING FINE THATS WHY ITS APPEALING.#this is not the fluffy gay ship you want#and you’re just gonna get hurt when canon continues to canon#sorry for formatting i’m at the office so i had to notes app this#also im at the office so bare with me if you’re joining the discord rn lol#but i wanted to respond to this#and also i have nothing to do at work rn lol
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what about reader is pregnant and rafe lovessssss her big and swollen boobs
i love this duo. pregnant/mom reader with rafe🙂↕️ so thank u for sending this in!
CW: pregnant!reader, titty sucking and grabbing, lowkey canon rafe, but he’s also down bad for reader n her tits.
note: there was two ways i could have taken this, and i chose this. hope y’all enjoy!🥰
He had always loved your tits. From the moment you had met him, Rafe was always touching your boobs in some way.
Whether it was grabbing at them with his hands any and everywhere, or laying his head on them when he slept, — saying they were his ‘pillows’ — Rafe was obsessed with your boobs.
But, since he’d knocked you up, and your tits had grew a significant amount — all swollen and big — Rafe was even more obsessed with them.
You were currently in the shower, trying to soothe your aching boobs when the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing catches your attention.
“Rafe?” you said softly, knowing it was him.
He didn’t respond though.
You furrowed your brows in confusion, shaking your head softly before you moved back under the stream of hot water pouring from the shower. Your right hand softly gripped one of your tits, massaging it softly to try and relieve some of the pressure you were feeling.
Squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on soothing the pain you were feeling, you didn’t hear the shower door open, or Rafe stepping inside behind you. His strong arms wrapping around your waist had you jumping, eyes popped open and a small scream coming from you.
“Oh fuck, Rafe! What’re you-” you tried asking, but his hands gripping harshly at your tits had you clamping your mouth shut.
“Shhhh, let me take care of you baby girl, you’re in pain, huh?”
You sighed, your eyes fluttering shut again as his large palms gently massaged your tits, making the intense pressure on them subside.
“Y-Yeah… They’re so swollen and they hurt, Rafe..”
Rafe shushed you once again, continuing the gentle squeezing and kneading movements with his hands.
A moan slips past your lips, “Rafe.. That feels..”
“Good?” He finishes your thought for you.
You nod your head, “Yeah.. So good.”
Rafe dips his head down, leaving a kiss on your shoulder and neck before he whispers in your ear, “Your tits are so beautiful, baby. So fuckin’ swollen and big.. Just wanna suck on them.”
His hands squeezed at your breasts harder, making your knees feel weak. You moaned again, Rafe growling in your ear before he drops his hands and spins your body around to face him, pressing your back into the cold shower wall.
“Gonna suck on these perfect tits baby, gonna make the pain go away. Just relax f’me, aight?”
You nod your head, letting out a breathless, “yeah.”
Next thing you knew, Rafe was lifting you into his arms, your swollen, pregnant belly pushing into his firm chest. You opened your mouth to tell him you’re too heavy for him to be holding right now, but a moan slips out instead when Rafe wraps his lips around your hardened nipple.
He sucked hard, nipping at the pebbled bud with his teeth and dragging it out before releasing it, moving his mouth to the other breast and repeating his actions.
Rafe licked, bit, and sucked on your tits, your mind going fuzzy from how good he was making you feel, the pain from mere minutes ago long forgotten now.
“Shit, Rafe… Feels so good, please, don’t stop.”
Rafe bites at your nipple again before releasing it and looking into your eyes, “Wasn’t planning on it, sweetheart. These tits are so fucking beautiful as is, but goddamn, they’re so sexy right now. Swollen and big, gonna have to keep you knocked up forever just so your tits stay like this.”
You giggled, slapping at his chest. “I don’t think I can do this too many times, baby. My whole body hurts, but, I’ll let you knock me up a few more times to get your fix of my big, swollen boobs.”
Rafe smiled widely, his blue eyes shining with adoration and excitement. “Sounds good to me. Now relax, and let me take care of my girl.”
RAFE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @princessslutt @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @atorturedpoetx @redhead1180 @jjsmarijuana @romaescapes @kisses4angel
rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form | requests ml
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x pregnant!reader#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron brainrot#rafe cameron x reader#rafe smut#rafe blurb
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Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix
synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.
tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.
portion; 3.1k+
possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.
pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)
I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.
The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life— Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.
You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?
Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.
“…Syd?”
She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”
There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.
“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.
“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”
“Syd.”
“Is your dad still a handy-man?”
Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.
You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.
“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”
You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”
You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”
You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.
CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.
There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.
Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.
“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”
You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.
“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”
“Oh nice!”
“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”
“In the way I can fix?”
“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”
“What’s the damage?”
“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”
You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”
“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”
“What was broke about it in the first place?”
“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, fuck.”
“Do you have the outside handle, still?”
“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”
“Clean?”
“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"
“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.
“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”
“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.
“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.
“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”
“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”
Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.
“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”
“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”
And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.
Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.
You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.
Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.
“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.
“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”
You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”
“Fuckin��� No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.
You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”
“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”
You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”
The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.
Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.
Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.
“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”
You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”
“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”
Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”
You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.
“Not gonna hit you, promise.”
“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”
You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”
“…Tony?”
“...Who the fuck is Tony?”
The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”
And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”
“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”
“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”
“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.
“Well, wait—”
You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.
“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”
“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”
And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.
“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.
You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”
“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.
The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.
It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “Let’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”
Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.
He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.
“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.
Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.
You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.
He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.
But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.
And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.
And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.
Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.
Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”
“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.
You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”
Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.
Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.
It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.
“You’re not Tony.”
“Terry.”
“You’re Terry?”
“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”
“Terry’s the fridge guy.”
“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”
“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”
“Syd.”
“Should’ve called you earlier.”
“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”
“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.
“You know Mikey too?”
Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.
“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”
“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”
“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.
You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.
“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”
“Still not Tony.”
“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—
“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.
But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.
And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.
Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.
Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.
Mikey’s words. Of course.
Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.
“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.
Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”
Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”
“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”
She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”
Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?
I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!
And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.
Next Part
#carmen berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear x you#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto imagine
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SANEMI HEAD CANONS
(as determined in the previous poll)
Hello everyone! Thanks so much for all of the 300+ votes I got on that poll, that’s like crazy 😦 rengoku and sanemi tied so we’re just gonna write for both! Rengoku’s will be in a separate post because imma be shitfaced when I’m done with this.
These head canons will involve sfw and nsfw, so if you are a minor please do not read past the part labeled NSFW
Warnings: Smut, Fem reader
(MINORS DO NOT CONTINUE AFTER THE NSFW LABEL I AM SLASH SRS)
Sanemi
Sfw
He’s a cold guy, giving out glares to anyone that looks in his direction.
But for you, his eyes briefly soften.
He refuses to admit it, but he truly turns into mush when you’re around.
Always keeps a hand on one of your body parts, hand, thigh, waist. He’s extremely protective, especially after losing the majority of his loved ones. He swears to protect you forever. Poor genya
Shows more affection when the two of you are alone, not wanting his coworkers to see him all lovey dovey. Only you get to see that
He’s like one of those guys that talk to you in a baby voice asking for attention but then the moment someone walks into the room his voice drops like 5 octaves.
Literally will not let you get out of bed earlier than him. Like his arms anchor you to the bed.
If you’re also a hashira, he makes sure that you both are always assigned together on missions. He knows you are capable enough to take care of yourself, but he can’t help the fear of not being there when you need him.
Trains with you but absolutely refuses to actually spar you. He couldn’t bare the thought of accidentally hurting you.
If he’s called out on his love for you in public he literally turns into a tomato.
NSFW
Oh boy, this guy is insane
He wants to love and cherish your beautiful body but he can’t help but feel the need to claim you
Once you give him the go ahead, he quite literally pounces on you.
Eats you out for hours, it’s basically impossible to pry him off.
Will start out by teasing you, giving small kitten licks to your wetness. He loves the frustrated face you make when he doesn’t give you what you want.
Cant tease forever, he yearns to see you throbbing with pleasure.
When he starts sucking your clit, you almost double over.
This man has a goal and he IS going to get it.
doesn’t even think about his own needs until his face and fingers are drenched in your arousal.
When he finally gets to the real shit, he starts extremely slow. Not wanting to hurt you.
He gives you time to adjust before carefully thrusting into you
However, when pleased mewls began to erupt from your mouth, he simply cannot hold back any longer
Bro changes his pace entirely, gripping onto your thighs and pulling his hips all the way back.
At first, you’re confused, but then he slams himself back into you.
Your breath literally disappears from your lungs as he feverishly thrusts into you.
Please pull his hair
He Bites and sucks on your neck whilst your fingers curl into his white locks.
Reaches his free hand down to passionately rub your clit, quite different from his hips roughly knocking into yours.
When you begin to reach your climax, he nearly finishes from the sight of you.
As your back arches in pleasure, his fingers quicken and his hips continue their pace.
When your orgasm hits, his does as well. The both of you moaning and riding out your high’s together.
immediately gets you water and makes sure you are okay.
Aftercare 100000%
Runs a nice bath and washes your hair for you
don’t comment on his flushed face.
If you fall asleep in the bath, he’ll dry you off and carry you to bed.
I hope you guys liked this!! I’m going to continue rengoku’s part in a separate post, I’ll probably write it later tonight after I shower and do my 1000 step skin care routine.
Comments, likes, reblogs are all appreciated!!
#demon slayer#kny headcanons#kny smut#demon slayer smut#demon slayer fluff#kny x reader#kny#kny x you#kny sanemi#demon slayer sanemi#sanemi x reader#sanemi smut
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Yearling - Ch. 31: Warmth
You cope with the aftermath of patrol. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-30 found on Tumblr here.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader
Warnings: Fall out from canon-typical violence. Plot points from TLOU2. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only
Length: 8k
A/N: Hi y'all. This does have a continuation of the spoilers from TLOU2. Again, I'm so sorry for not warning about these further in advance. If you have any questions, feel free to shoot me a DM (or you can always yell in the comments or in my asks. I don't delete things if they're not the kindest so I'll leave whatever you want to send my way up, I totally get it.) Thanks for being here ❤️
AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
It shouldn’t be this hard to stay conscious when the world is ending.
You’d had the thought before, in the early days of the outbreak. When you were trying to find someplace safe and had no idea where to start, when you were just riding and riding and hoping you’d be alive to see the next morning.
But now was different. It wasn’t your life, it was Joel’s. His was so much more important than your own and the fear of losing him was keeping you awake. You’d nod off for a second - you thought, anyway - only to jerk back awake when your grip on his wrist slipped and his pulse wasn’t a constant - if weak - drumbeat below your fingers.
You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been on the floor with him. Things were fuzzy. You’d lost a lot of blood, you were familiar with that sensation now, you could identify it even as your mind was foggy. You still weren’t entirely sure what had happened. You remembered Joel screaming - you didn’t think you’d ever forget that horrific sound - and running to find him. You remembered watching as that girl swung the golf club down on his body. It wasn’t until you were already in the room, fighting for control of your gun with someone who looked like he was about Ellie’s age that you realized this was probably a mistake. You’d charged in without a plan to get backup, you were hugely outnumbered, no one knew where the fuck you were. You should have at least gone back for your horse, you were pretty sure she could have fit down here and you could have used sheer size and weight to clear the room.
But they were killing him. That’s all that could force that sound from someone, life and death, and you couldn’t risk it. If there was a chance, even a tiny one, that you could save him, you were going to take it. Even if it killed you, you were going to take it.
The threat was gone now - or you hoped it was, at least. Gatling was still on guard. You could feel how tense she was behind you, her body engaged and ready to strike. If they came back armed to the teeth before help arrived, though, you’d be finished.
Joel’s wrist, the one you’d been holding, relaxed some and you forced yourself to sit up.
“Joel?” You managed, adjusting your hold on him. His whole arm was limp now. Your heart beat faster. You released his wrist and pressed your fingers into his neck, where you liked to kiss him and feel the vital thrum of his pulse through his skin. It was faint but it was there. You adjusted yourself, propping yourself up on your elbow as your cut side screamed in pain, and you ran your fingers through his hair. You took comfort in the fact that you still could do that. While the rest of his body had been brutalized, Joel’s head was intact outside of where it looked like someone had landed a punch on his cheek near his eye, a bruise blossoming on his skin but no blood shed. It was like the girl had been saving his head for last, like she was trying to draw it out, make sure he was alive and awake while she hurt him. It turned your stomach.
“You’re OK Joel,” you held face gently in your hand. “Gonna get you out of here, get you back to Ellie. You’re OK.”
You stayed propped up like that for a while, just talking to him and running your fingers gently through his hair and feeling his breath on your skin until you were too weak to hold yourself up anymore. You collapsed alongside him then, trying to shield his body with yours as much as you could in case the people came back.
Just a little sleep. That’s all. That’s what you needed, just enough rest to be able to think straight. Then you could figure out how to get Tommy and Joel back to Jackson.
“Gatling,” you managed before you passed out. “Guard.”
You woke up to snarling.
Your head was swimming and you could feel the strength of the dog at your side, her body pressed back against you as she growled and barked. You tried to get your bearings as quickly as you could, fumbling for the rifles you’d brought to Joel’s side.
“Bambi!” You recognized Ellie’s voice. “Bambi, call off Gatling, she won’t listen to me, we can’t get close enough…”
“Gatling,” you gritted your teeth, your cut side burning and pulling as you tried to sit up. “Down.”
You felt her relax and she gave a little whine before curling up against you and giving you a lick. You managed to prop yourself up on your uninjured side, eyes fighting to focus as Ellie, Jesse, Julie and Gene came in. Ellie ran for Joel, Gatling giving a little whine as she tracked her with her eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” Gene said as he got a good look at Joel.
“He’s alive,” Ellie said, her voice cracking. “I thought…”
“I know,” you adjusted so you could see him, check on his bandages. Your side protested, damaged skin pulling painfully. “But we have to get him to the doctor, we have to move him now…”
“I don’t know that we can,” Gene knelt next to Ellie, looking Joel up and down.
You frowned.
“The fuck do you mean you don’t know.”
“I mean,” he said gently. “We need to move quick, already been here too long, and we only have so many hands. I don’t know that he can make it back to Jackson and we should focus on…”
“Fuck you,” your teeth were clenched, sweat starting at your temples from the strain of sitting upright. “We are not just gonna leave him out here…”
“If we can save you and Tommy?” Gene said. “Then that’s what we should do. That’s what he’d want.”
“Fuck you!” Ellie looked murderous. “Bambi’s right…”
“C’mon,” Julie’s hands gently enveloped your shoulders. “Let’s try to get you up…”
“I’m not going!” You wrenched yourself out of her grip and cried out in pain, a gush of blood coming from the wound at your side. “I’m not going without him, I’m not leaving him here!”
Julie’s hands were on you again but you pulled yourself free, forcing yourself to your knees.
“You’re gonna get yourself hurt,” Gene warned, moving for you, too, but you ignored him.
“Gatling!” You managed through clenched teeth. Her head sprang up. “Guard!”
She jumped to her feet and jumped between you and Gene.
“Bambi,” he said cautiously, hands up, as your dog snapped her jaws and snarled at him.
“I’m not going anywhere without him,” you were panting for breath. “You can’t make me, not with her like this. She’ll kill you and I’ll fuckin’ let her. Take him. Now.”
Gene looked back at Jesse, who was helping Tommy sit up. He just shrugged. Gene looked back to you.
“Fine,” he said. “But you gotta give us some space to work, can’t move him with her like this…”
You struggled to your feet, using Julie’s shoulder as leverage, and you limped to the wall, all but collapsing against it. Gatling stayed on you, staring Gene down, seeming to trust Julie as you leaned against her.
“She’s guardin’ me,” you said. “Won’t bother you over there. Move him. Do it.”
You watched as Gene, Jesse and Ellie got Joel off the floor and out of the room. There was a perverse spot on the ground where his body had been, his blood pooled there. There was so much of it, so much it didn’t seem like there would be any left inside of him. You remembered, suddenly, Justin on the night of the outbreak. How you’d tried to put his blood back inside of him in the hopes that it would save him. How could you save the man you loved if all his blood was on the floor?
“He’s alive?” Tommy asked from his place propped against the wall. There was a streak of blood down his face.
“He’s alive,” you said. He closed his eyes and nodded, leaning his head against the wall.
“Thank you,” he said, quietly enough that you could barely hear him. “I can’t…”
“It’s OK,” you said. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be OK. He will.”
You weren’t sure you believed it.
Jesse came back down and helped Tommy up before stopping near the door, keeping a safe distance from you and Gatling.
“We got him on a horse,” he said. “We gotta move.”
You gave him a nod and watched him get Tommy started on the stairs before you looked down at Gatling, her body drawn tight, ready to spring into action.
“Gatling. Heel.”
She looked up at you, muscle relaxing, and licked her lips.
“You’re a good girl,” you said, trying to imbue as much praise into your voice as you could manage. “You did real good.”
She wagged a little uncertainly and watched, waiting to follow you. Julie looped your arm around her shoulders while hers slipped around your waist and she helped you toward the stairs, taking it slow. You had to stop and rest once, not able to breathe, the warm gush of your blood when you pulled the air down low in your lungs making your head spin.
“Think you can make it?” Julie asked, concerned.
You nodded, wincing.
“I’ll make it,” you said. “I know, we have to move.”
She held you a little tighter and the cold air burned your lungs when you made it outside. Joel was draped over Ares, Gene mounted up behind him. Tommy was on his own horse, blood still on his face as he stared blankly at Joel’s limp body.
“You can ride with me,” Julie said but you shook your head. You weren’t about to not be in control of a horse, not in this situation. You needed to have the power if something went wrong. You couldn’t trust anyone else to make Joel a priority if there were infected or raiders or, worst of all, the people who had attacked him to begin with. You needed to be able to move to protect him.
“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth, even though you knew getting on Renaissance was going to hurt something fierce. “Don’t need to be slowin’ us down any more by putting two of us on a horse.”
She went to protest but you pulled away from her and swallowed the sounds of your pain as you went to Renaissance and pulled yourself onto her. You called Gatling onto your saddle, too, and she settled there, still on high alert. You guided the horse to be alongside Gene and Joel and stared Gene down, almost daring him to fight you on it.
“I want to get everyone back,” he said gently. “But if it’s not everyone, I want as many as I can get.”
“Then let’s go,” you bit out.
The ride back to Jackson felt long, longer than it really was, you were sure. Every step Renaissance made was painful. It was hard to stay conscious when you’d lost so much blood and the pain was blinding. You were terrified that something was going to happen, that someone was going to pick now to attack people from Jackson and that you wouldn’t be strong enough to save Joel. The thought was constant and overbearing, hollowing out your chest and making your stomach clench.
By the time the walls of the city were in view, you were barely able to stay on your horse. Dina had ridden ahead to tell the doctors and the council what was happening and you were thankful for it as your head spun and vision grew spotty as you neared the gates. You were too out of it to notice that someone was there to catch you as your strength started to give out.
“Woah there!” You vaguely recognized Ryan, a guard you regularly saw when he went out on patrol, stomach turning as he lowered you to the snow. “Hey Doc! Got one here!”
“No,” you shook your head, words starting to slur. The blood on your clothes was cold against your skin. “M’fine… Joel, need to help Joel…”
“They’re getting him,” he said, looking down at you. He had a nice face, you thought. Pleasant and calming. “You got him back here, it’s OK. We’ll get you taken care of, it’s alright…”
“Joel,” you closed your eyes. At least things were warmer here. It hurt less. “Need… Joel…”
“We’ve got him,” Ryan said. His voice sounded so far away. “It’s alright, we’ve got him.”
You barely remembered nodding before you passed out.
You were warmer when you woke up.
Sound came first. It took a moment before you could open your eyes but you could hear the muffled sounds of bickering not far away. For half a moment, you thought you were in Joel’s bed. That he and Ellie were in a tiff just outside his bedroom door, going back and forth about some harebrained scheme that one of them had latched onto. You thought about pressing your face into the pillow and trying to go back to sleep, hoping that Joel would come in once one of them wore the other down. He did that sometimes when he woke up before you, bringing you a cup of tea and setting it on the nightstand before wrapping around you, pulling you into his broad chest and burying his face in your hair or your neck, kissing you and breathing you in until you stirred in his arms.
And then you remembered. Waking up next to Joel. Going on Patrol. The storm. The blood.
You tried to sit up before your eyes were open, side pulling and head spinning.
“Hey guys, she’s waking up!”
Your eyes had never been heavier but you forced them open anyway, already reaching and groping to figure out where you’d ended up.
The room was bright, the bed soft. It was the third time you’d managed to dodge death and awoken, confused and lightheaded, in Jackson’s clinic. The other bed was empty.
“Joel,” you started trying to get up but two small hands held you in bed and you frowned, ready to fight whoever was holding you back, but it was Savvy, her eyebrows drawn tightly together, curls springing in every direction.
“Mom, you have to be calm, you’ll rip your stitches…”
She was here. She was with you, willing to talk to you, touch you. The sound of her voice, all gentle concern, made your chest tighten. You just looked at her for a moment, seeking out the minute changes in her since you’d gotten a chance to see her - really see her - last. You thought she might be having her last growth spurt. She looked a little longer, her face a little thinner. There was a scratch on her cheek that you wanted to kiss like you did when she was little. There were tears in her eyes.
“Savvy…”
“I was so scared,” her voice cracked. “I thought you might be dead, I thought…”
“Oh honey,” you pulled her against you and held her to your chest, one arm looping around her waist, the other hand cradling her head to you, the wet of her tears on your neck. You kissed her temple and tried to keep the tears that were starting to cling to your eyelashes from falling. “It’s OK, you’re alright, I’ve got you. Don’t have to be scared, you’re OK.”
“I’ve never seen you like that,” she sniffed from her place against your skin. “You’re always so strong, you’re never hurt, not like that…”
“I know,” you said softly, rocking her gently. “I’m sorry, Honey, I wish you hadn’t seen that. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never see it again and we can talk all about it but baby, I need to know where Joel is. Is he here? Is he OK? Is he alive?”
She sniffed and started to pull back from you as the door opened, Ellie, Tommy, Maria and Dr. Livingston coming in. They moved slowly, cautiously. Like they were worried you would startle if they behaved normally. Tommy looked washed out, Ellie exhausted, both with grim looks on their faces. Your arms went limp and Savvy sat back from you, looking between you and them.
“No,” you shook your head, a lump growing in your throat. “No, no, you’re wrong, he’s not…”
“He’s alive,” Dr. Livingston said gently. “Barely. But you got him here just in time, it was very very close while we worked on him…”
“Where is he,” you tried to get up again but Savvy held you down. “I need to see him, just for a second, please…”
“He’s still unconscious,” Dr. Livingston continued.
You frowned, looking between everyone.
“That’s bad,” you said, reading their expressions. “Why… How long has it been?”
“We’ve been back about two and a half days,” Tommy said, his arms crossed over his chest.
You nodded slowly. That made sense to you.
“He was hurt bad,” you said, looking between them again. “He lost a lot of blood…”
“He did,” Dr. Livingston said. “But… well, we’d normally expect to see more from him by now. He’s breathing on his own - we don’t have the facilities to keep him alive if he can’t - but that’s the best we can really say for him. He’s… he’s unresponsive.”
You processed what she said for a moment.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded, her mouth a thin line.
“Are you…” You had to close your eyes and focus for a second. None of this came easy or naturally. It was utterly unnatural, thinking of Joel in that way. He was so strong, so vital. He couldn’t just stop being like that. He couldn’t just fade away into nothing like that. “Are you saying he might not wake up?”
“The longer he’s like this, the more likely it becomes,” Dr. Livingston said.
“But he’s still alive,” you said, looking back toward Ellie and Tommy again, looking for that reassurance that you weren’t crazy. They knew him, they knew that he wouldn’t just disappear from his body like that. “He’s still breathing.”
“He’s alive,” she said. “But he might be brain dead, we have no way of knowing right now, no way of scanning for brain function like we did before… I’m so sorry, but you have to consider the possibility that…”
“Take me to see him,” you cut her off. She looked at Maria, worry in her eyes, like she thought you might be unstable. “Please.”
Dr. Livingston sighed.
“You’ve got a fair few fresh stitches and you’re still down plenty of blood yourself. We’ll have to take it slow.”
Ellie and Savvy helped you stand up and you could feel the wounds on your leg and stomach protesting the movement. For a moment, you thought you might be able to count the number of stitches in your skin because the way it pulled and strained. You hissed and clutched the girls’ hands, squeezing their fingers so hard that you could only hope it didn’t hurt them.
They helped you across a short hallway to a room that was almost identical to the one you’d been in, just with one fewer bed, giving people more room to work. Joel was there, flat on his back, his arms down straight at his sides over the top of the blanket. But he looked strange, unnatural.
It took you a moment to recognized the part of it that was wrong. His chest rose and fell, the worst of his injuries hidden by the quilt. He looked like he was sleeping. But it was off. He never slept like that, straight as a board with his arms at his sides in that way. It wasn’t like him, it wasn’t the way his body arranged itself when he was relaxed. Even when he wasn’t curled around you, he slept on his side or, if he was on his back, his hands were folded and resting where his chest met his stomach. He napped on the couch that way sometimes, when he was sleeping lightly, waiting for you. You could come in and press a kiss to his forehead and he would open one eye and cock a smile at you, just big enough that his cheek would dimple.
But if your lips touched him now, you knew he’d be still. He wouldn’t look at you like you made him happy just by existing. His cheek wouldn’t dimple.
You made your way to a chair near the head of the bed and lowered yourself into it slowly. His skin was pale, his face totally lax in a way that wasn’t peaceful and was, instead, like an echo.
“Oh God,” you breathed, one hand going to your lips.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Dr. Livingston said gently. “We have ways to get him fluids and nutrients but… it’s nothing long term. We’ll just have to hope he makes a turn for the better.”
You nodded, not able to stop looking at him. His body was so empty, so unlike him.
“Can I stay with him?” You asked quietly. You weren’t sure when you’d started crying but you were.
“Sure,” she said. “For now. But you need rest…”
You just nodded. You’d fight that battle when the time came.
The doctor left you with the girls, Tommy and Maria. Joel’s family and yours. All the people you had in the world in this one, small room.
“I was going to go home and get changed, take a nap…” Ellie said quietly. “Can I bring you something?”
“One of his shirts?” You asked.
“Sure,” she said. You heard the door open and she paused. “You did everything you could, Bambi. We all did.”
You nodded, not willing to argue with her.
“I think Tommy and I will get out of here for a bit, too,” Maria said. “Give you some time. We’ll be back in a few hours unless I can actually get my husband to get some real sleep…”
“He wouldn’t be sleepin’ if it were me,” Tommy said, voice sharper than you were used to hearing.
Maria sighed.
“Come on, honey,” she said. “You need rest, too.”
The room was quiet for a moment, so quiet you could hear the sound of Joel’s shallow breaths. You wanted to put your head on his chest and listen to the life inside him, reassure yourself that he was still in there somewhere, but you didn’t want to hurt him. You’d already done enough.
“Mom?” Savvy’s voice was soft. “Is it… can I stay? For a bit?”
You managed to pull your eyes away from Joel to find her, standing to the side, her arms tight over her chest.
“Of course baby,” you said, looking for another chair. She found one first, moving it to be beside yours. She settled in there, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a heavy sigh. She was looking at Joel, her face drawn. “How have you been?”
She shrugged noncommittally.
“Alright, I guess,” she said. “School is OK. Math is stupid.”
You laughed lightly once.
“Math’s not stupid but… I know what you mean. Wasn’t ever my strong suit. I liked history best. And music, of course.”
“Course,” she smiled a little. “I like Ellie and… I like staying where I have been but… I missed you. Missed home.”
You swallowed the growing lump in your throat.
“I missed you, too,” you said, voice wet. “So much. More than anything.”
She nodded slowly, not looking at you.
“I heard the doctors and some other people talking,” she said hesitantly. “What they were saying… It’s not the first time they’ve seen you hurt like this.”
You waited for a moment, to make sure she was done.
“It’s not,” you said.
She nodded again.
“How did you end up here?” She asked quietly.
“I…” You sighed and tried to find the best way to phrase it. “I’d wound up with some bad people. I got hurt. Joel found me when I was in real bad shape. He brought me here. He saved me.”
“When was that?”
“About two years ago,” you said.
“So you weren’t just here the whole time,” she said, more like a statement than a question.
“No,” you said softly. “I wasn’t.”
She nodded again. You could see her processing the information, her eyes slightly squinting as she did, so like her father used to do. It still tugged at your heart, bits and pieces of a man you’d loved still alive in his child.
“I’m still not sure how I feel,” she said, gnawing on her lower lip. “But… I don’t want to keep being mad at you. I miss you. I’d… I’d like to find a way to see you. At least some. For now.”
“I’d like that,” you said, sniffing a little. “I’d like that a lot. As much time as you want, honey, I’m here.”
“OK,” she smiled a tight lipped smile at you before looking to Joel. “Do you really think he’ll wake up?”
You sighed, looking at him, too.
“I don’t really know anything about medicine,” you said. “But… I do know Joel. And I don’t knot that there’s anything that can keep him from taking care of the people he loves. And I know he knows Ellie needs him, you need him. And I…” your voice cracked. “I need him. He’s strong. He can pull through.”
She nodded and slowly, gently, rested her head on your shoulder. You froze for a moment, not wanting to disturb her. But, eventually, you had to take a breath and she stayed there beside you, keeping vigil over the man who had become her guardian.
Savvy ended up staying until after dark. Ellie came back only about an hour and a half after she left, bringing some clothes for you. You immediately put on the shirt, pressing your nose to the collar and breathing in Joel’s scent. She told you then that Savvy hadn’t left the clinic since you’d come in, always at your bedside, nearly ripping off the doctors’ heads when they dared suggest that she go home and get some rest.
Ellie got her to go home that evening, though, after she gave you a delicate hug that, you thought, might be one of the best ones you’d ever gotten. Dr. Livingston wanted to keep you there for another few days, not something you were going to argue with since you weren’t about to leave while Joel was still there, anyway. She did make you move back to the other room and you gave up the fight quickly, waiting until you heard her leave for the night before going back across the hall, anyway. It was tricky, walking on your own when you were still healing, but you made it without any more blood leaking from you. You pulled your chair close to Joel and looked him over, tracing one finger over the soft skin of his cheek. He still looked so unnatural in this position, so unlike himself. You ran your fingers through his hair, arranging it just so, before you gently took his hands and put them at the base of his chest, one on top of the other. Not quite right, but better. It felt like his body was more his that way.
“I’m here, Joel,” you said quietly, wanting more than anything to be able to curl up in his lap. “I’m here.”
You sat on the floor next to the bed - not able to get comfortable enough in the chair to doze off - and rested your head on the mattress near his hip. This wasn’t exactly ideal, either, your stitches itching and pulling as you settled in, but you didn’t care. You had to be close to Joel. Some pain was worth that.
The next day, you were shaken awake by a frustrated Dr. Palmer who was taking over so Dr. Livingston could get some rest.
“You are bound and determined to be your own worst enemy,” she muttered, forcing you back to your own bed. She checked you over, reluctantly told you that you were healing well with no sign of infection. The second her back was turned, you were back in Joel’s room.
Ellie, Tommy and Maria came by again, all of you sitting in near silence, watching Joel, waiting for him to do something - anything - to indicate that he was still in there.
The next day was less quiet. You were in your usual position in the seat by the head of Joel’s bed when Tommy and Ellie started getting into it. It didn’t sound like a new argument and, you realized, the bickering you’d been only vaguely aware of as you regained consciousness was probably them.
“I’m not going to sit around here and fucking wait forever,” Ellie snapped. “I’m going out there, I’m going to find them and I’m going to kill every last fucking one of them.”
“We need to wait,” Tommy said, voice strained. Ellie didn’t seem to care.
“Wait for them to get further and further away?” She snapped. “Wait for them to come back with more people? No, it’s too big of a fucking risk. I’m going out there.”
“Need to wait until I can go with you,” Tommy snapped. “Need to wait until we know…”
Tommy’s voice trailed off.
“Until we know what?” Ellie demanded. “Until we know whether or not they successfully murdered him? No, fuck that, I’m going to beat the shit out of her with a goddamn golf club, make her fucking feel it…”
“No, you won’t,” you cut her off.
“I won’t?” She asked, brows raised, almost daring you to argue with her. “You’re not my fucking mom, Bambi, you don’t get to tell me what the fuck I do or don’t get to do.”
“You ever killed anyone, kid?” You asked, chin resting on your fist as you watched her. She just blinked at you for a moment. “And I mean people. Real people, not infected.”
“Yeah,” she said, though her voice was less sharp. “Yeah, I have. Two.”
“Alright,” you replied. “You torture them? You like killing them?”
She was silent and just looked at her feet.
“That’s what I thought,” you looked back to Joel. “You’re not going after shit, kid…”
“I’m not a fucking kid!”
“You’re his kid,” you shot her a glare before looking back at Joel. “And he wouldn’t want you murdering and torturing people for him.”
“But…”
“No,” you said. “If… If he… If someone needs to handle it, it will be me and Tommy. We can take them and we can make it hurt. You’ll stay here. Not gonna just let you turn into a killer for him, he’d never forgive me. He’d never forgive either of us. One of the last things he said to me was to look out for you and you better goddamn well believe that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. You’re not going any damn place.”
She stormed out but Savvy came that evening. She brought a deck of cards and the two of you played Go Fish like you used to when she was little. She told you Ellie was cooling off but she thought she’d be OK.
“I don’t blame her,” she said, arranging some cards in her hand. “If someone did that to you, I’d want to kill them, too.”
You looked at her for a moment.
“I wouldn’t want you to,” you said gently. She looked at you over the cards, skeptical. “I mean it. You hear that something bad happened to me, you take it and move on. Don’t hurt yourself thinking that will fix it. It would only make it worse.”
The day after that, Ellie brought you your guitar. It made Dr. Palmer look nervous but you promised to take it easy and that music was how you relaxed.
“Just don’t get all worked up and play Freebird,” she muttered, leaving you alone with Joel and your instrument.
“Why is everyone so obsessed with Freebird?” You asked a silent Joel as you delicately arranged the guitar on your lap, dodging the stitches in your stomach and leg as you did. “There’s better shit out there…”
You played for him whatever came to mind. The song you’d written for him kept cropping up. So did the songs you’d played with him, slower and gentler things that you tried to pull from memory, even Take on Me because it got stuck in your head.
“Do you think he can hear me?” You asked Dr. Palmer that afternoon.
She stepped back from him and sighed for a moment, looking at you as though she were going to gauge her answer around your demeanor.
“No one knows for sure,” she said eventually. “But… if he could hear anybody, I think it would be you.”
By the end of the second day with your guitar, your whole body was sore and tired but you didn’t move to go back to your own room. Both doctors had given up on forcing you. You nearly ripped their heads off when they suggested you go to your house for a day or two, try to get some real rest. It was bad enough that they’d surrendered to your stubborn need to be where you could see Joel at all times, no longer willing to fight over what they thought was better for you.
It was quiet, dark. You weren’t entirely sure what time it was but you thought everyone in town besides those on watch were at home. You were as close to home as you got now, home could only be where Joel was. You weren’t sure how to find home without him now.
You played the song you’d written for him one more time, soft and slow, before propping the guitar against the wall and sitting delicately on the edge of the bed, careful to not disturb him. You adjusted his arms a bit, putting them where you knew he would rest them if he could move them on his own. You gently brushed his hair back. His patchy beard was getting long in spots and you wondered if Ellie could bring scissors and a razor the next time she came so you could trim it for him, keep it how he liked. You drew the shirt of his you wore tighter to yourself and just looked at him for a moment. He was so beautiful, even like this. You needed him so badly, needed him to be OK. You needed to be able to wake up next to him again, kiss him on your way out the door again, make love to him again. He couldn’t be gone, not now. Not like this.
“Joel,” you said softly, barely even a whisper. “I know… I know I should probably tell you that if you need to go, it’s OK, that we’ll be OK but… I don’t think I can. I don’t know how to do this without you, I don’t want to do this without you. I need you, I’m not sure I can be a real person without you. If you’re already gone then… then knowing you was one of the best things that ever happened to me and I’m thankful for every goddamn second of it. But if you’re still there, if you can hear me… I need you to come back to me, Joel. Just… please. Don’t leave me, don’t leave the girls, I just… I will do whatever you want, just stay. Just come back to me. Please.”
He was still below your touch but you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, anyway, his skin soft and warm. A tear slipped from your eyelash and fell to his cheek but you didn’t move to wipe it away. You had the odd thought that maybe he would absorb it, that his skin would soak up your salt and your sadness and then, even if he didn’t come back, at least he’d have part of you in him when you put him in the ground. You wondered if you’d be able to join him. You slid off the bed and tucked your legs up against yourself, crossing your arms atop the mattress and resting your head there, drifting off to the sound of his breathing.
***
All Joel really knew was that he was somewhere warm and soft. Warm and soft and kinder than where he’d been before, though the memory of just before was fuzzy. He remembered you, waking up with you, being inside of you, kissing you goodbye. He remembered watching Ellie ride off with her friend for their patrol. He remembered laughing with his brother about something but didn’t remember what. Everything after that was a haze of blood and pain.
But he was warm now, somewhere that was familiar but he was having a hard time placing it. Grass and trees and a park bench that was more comfortable than it had any right to be, the sound of birds and cicadas on the air. But there were no other people. None that he could see, anyway.
He heard voices now and then. There were some he knew were familiar but he couldn’t quite place. Others he’d have known anywhere. You, Ellie, Savvy, Tommy, Maria. It was a haze, he could make out the tones and the melodies of your speech but not the words. But that was OK. He knew all of you were close and that was enough.
There was music, too. He would have recognized your playing from anywhere but it still seemed so obvious from wherever he was. But your music sounded sad, some kind of longing in it that wasn’t there when you usually played for him. He wanted to fix it, wanted to come from wherever he was and make it better. He just wasn’t sure that he could. But he kept hearing the song you made for him. That song was clearer than any other, so present he almost thought it was the version of it you’d recorded for him. But it wasn’t followed by the words he’d come to know so well in the months without you, the ones you’d added to the end of the tape that he listened to every night since you left. Every night until the one you came back to him.
Come back to me, Joel.
“Dad?”
Joel looked around for a moment, heart pounding. He knew that voice, had heard it inside his head so many times through the years. But never like this, never this close. And then Sarah was in front of him, her curls a halo around her head, skin almost glowing in the golden sun.
“Baby girl.”
He realized where he knew this place from. It was a park in Austin that he took her to all the time when she was a little girl. The skyline was at his back if he could turn to face it, a playground down the hill to the right. She’d loved the open field, though. She loved being able to just run and run and run with nothing to hold her back. He tried to make himself get to his feet but he couldn’t. She just smiled. It was warm, gentle but more knowing than he’d remembered it being. But then, maybe he’d forgotten. Because otherwise, she looked exactly the same as the last time Joel had seen her, down to the clothes. Except her purple shirt wasn’t bloodstained now, her ankle wasn’t hurt. She was whole, healthy, the way she always should have been.
“Long time no see,” she sat beside him on the bench and he was able to reach her then. He reached for her slowly, cautiously, but he didn’t need to worry. She reached back, putting her arms around his neck. He held her, close and tight. She was warm and soft but the heat wasn’t coming from her. Instead it was like she was part of the place where he was, warm like the sun. She pulled back from him before too long but left a delicate hand on his knee. He tried to memorize her, make sure he knew the precise constellations of her freckles and the way her lashes framed her eyes. She looked him over and smiled that beautiful smile of hers. “You’re getting old, old man.”
“Yeah,” he laughed a little, still not sure what to say to her. “Yeah, I know, baby girl. I know.”
“I’ve missed you,” she was still smiling but it was sadder now. “A lot.”
“I’ve missed you too,” he said, his voice wet. “So, so much. You have no idea how much…”
“I know,” she said. “I’ve seen. You’ve been through a lot, Dad. So much. I wish I could have been there, I wish I could have helped you.”
“That’s not your job…”
“I know,” she said again. “But I still wanted to.”
“How are you?” He asked. “I want to know everything, everything…”
“I’ve been good,” she smiled. “I met your friend Tess. I like her. I liked her before, too, but even more now. She’s a lot like you, I’m glad you had her.”
“How…”
“Dad, I would love to tell you everything,” she cut him off. “But we don’t have time.”
He frowned.
“No,” he shook his head. “No, we didn’t get enough time before, but we should now, we…”
“We will,” she reached out and took his hands. “Eventually. But not yet. You’ve gotten old, old man, but not old enough. You’re not supposed to be here yet. You still have a lot to do. You have people who need you, people who love you. They really, really love you, Dad. You need to go back for them. You’ve been here long enough.”
Don’t leave me.
He looked up, looking for where your voice was coming from. Sarah just smiled.
“She needs you,” she said. “And you need her.”
She was right. He could feel that in every inch of him. He wanted to be next to you, wanted the life that he could have with you that had been so close when he’d left Jackson that morning. Just you and him and your girls. He wanted it so much it hurt. But how could he leave his daughter? His baby girl, the first baby girl he’d held, the first one he’d failed. How could he leave her again?
“Baby girl, I love them, too but I can’t just leave you here alone…”
She smiled gently.
“I’m not alone, Dad. And it’s OK if I’m not your whole world anymore,” she gave his leg a squeeze. “It’s OK if you have another purpose. I want you to be happy. Her, Ellie, Savvy… they make you happy. They’re your purpose now. You deserve that. Go be happy. I’ll be here when you’re done. We’ll have time then, too. I promise.”
Just stay.
“Go be with them, Dad,” she said. “Go be happy. We’ll be together when it’s time.”
Just come back to me.
“I love you so much, Sarah,” he said, reaching out and holding her face in his hand. “So, so much.”
Please.
“I know,” she smiled. “And I love you too.”
There was a wet spot on his cheek but he wasn’t crying. He frowned, touching his skin there, a tear clinging to his finger when he pulled it away. The place he was glowed brighter. Sarah’s face was somehow further away though neither of them had moved. He could feel himself fading from here, going back to where he was before. Part of him hurt with that, clinging to Sarah so hard that it seemed as though he was going to leave that part of him behind. But the rest of him was bringing him back, desperate to get to you, be beside you. That’s where he was supposed to be. He knew that now. He was always supposed to live. He was always supposed to flinch. He was always supposed to find you.
“I’ll see you around,” she said. “Take care of yourself. Take care of them. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He didn’t have a chance to say goodbye.
Everything hurt.
It was sudden and sharp, the place where he was abruptly dark and cold. He wasn’t sure he could move much, every part of him impossibly heavy. But he forced his eyes open, at least. He was flat on his back and in a bed. It took him a moment to realize where, but the fact that there was medical equipment near his head narrowed it down. He heard a soft, sleepy sound and forced himself to lift his head enough to look for it. It didn’t take him long to find you there, head resting near his waist. He smiled to himself. Part of him was just relieved that he hadn’t dreamed you coming back to him, relieved that you’d want anything to do with him at all now.
He forced his arm to move, the limb unnaturally clunky, every motion pulling and tugging on damaged skin but he didn’t really care. He rested a hand on your head, smoothing your hair down, thumb brushing against your forehead. You startled and jerked awake, sitting up quickly and blinking sleep from your eyes. His hand fell to your arm when you did and looked around for a moment before your eyes fell on him, the glow of the moon on the snow illuminating your face in the dark. You frowned for a moment, your brows knitting together.
“Hey sweetheart,” Joel managed, his voice dry and cracking.
“Joel!” You scrambled to your feet, taking his hand and clinging to it as you did. “You’re here, you’re alive, you’re…”
“I’m alright, baby,” he said gently. You sank slowly onto the bed at his waist, clutching onto his hand. “You OK?”
“I’m OK,” you nodded quickly, your voice wet. “Tommy’s OK, Ellie’s OK, we’re all OK. I was so afraid, Joel. I was so afraid. I thought you were gone, I thought I lost you…”
“I know,” he winced as he reached the hand you weren’t latched onto over to cup your face. “I’m so sorry, baby. Wasn’t tryin’ to go anywhere…”
You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles before holding his arm to your chest, clinging to it like a child does to a security blanket.
“How are you feeling?” You asked, looking him up an down. “I can go wake up a doctor and…”
“M’fine sweetheart,” he said, brushing a thumb over the arch of your cheekbone. “Don’t… don’t go anywhere, need you close. Just…” He did his best to shift himself so he wasn’t in the middle of the bed, wincing as he did. “Just be here. Let me hold you, OK?”
“I don’t want to hurt you…”
“You won’t,” he said gently. “Need to feel you. Just stay with me, baby. Please.”
You sniffed but nodded before you moved gingerly to slip into bed beside him. You lay your head gently on his chest and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. It took a moment but he felt you relax against him, body molding to his own. He turned his head enough to brush his lips against your forehead.
“I can’t lose you, Joel,” you said softly. “I can’t, I need you to stay.”
“I’m here, baby,” he whispered, holding you as close as he could, everywhere your body met his a welcome distraction from the pain. “Not going anywhere.”
Next Chapter
A/N: Yeah, sorry, I can't bring myself to kill Joel lol I love him too much, I need to let him have all the beautiful things he deserves to have.
Thank you so so much for being so patient with this chapter. I promise, I didn't intend to leave you hanging for weeks on end and I feel so bad that I did. Thank you for still reading and for being here. I feel like I've messed up a lot on how I've handled this fic lately - between not understanding how many folks didn't know the TLOU2 stuff and not giving proper warning and then posting that last chapter and not having this one lined up and ready to go - so thank you for not ditching me and this fic. It really does mean so much that you spend your time here with these characters.
Thank you again ❤️ Love you!
Taglist: @ashleymsnodgrass@planet-marz1@kalea-bane @juneswonderlust@ilovepedro @h-annahayy @starstruckmusiciansartghost@beccerjune@mumma-moonchild@netonetoneto@mellymbee@purplelye@n7cje@flugazi@evyiione@randomhoex@aliengirl99@orcasoul@reds-ramblings@pedropascalsbbg @fupoola @tinypotatothing @knopes-waffles @lilmizmoz @ayamenimthiriel@jenispunk@panda-pascal@sarap-77@flugazi@your-slutty-gf@daniegraceg@partyofone3413@cumberpegg@noisynightmarepoetry.@fifia-writes@grumpygrumperton @srmacaroni @txlady37 @bigboiseason123@ashleyfilm
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#yearling#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#tlou2 spoilers
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could you give your opinion, or examples from canon, about balance and the light and dark sides of the force? I keep running across fics where people argue that the Jedi are wrong and the dark side is just as necessary, and I feel like canon was clear that’s not what balance means in the Star Wars universe
Hi! First off, I'll say that I would recommend going around arguing with people's fic (not you're necessarily planning to do this! just that I think it's a good reminder), because those people must be allowed their space in fandom, just as we're allowed our space in fandom. I have found that I actually have a much better time in fandom when I'm just in my own space doing my own thing and ultimately this is just fandom, what other people do in their fic, so long as it's not hurting real people, is their choice and not mine, if I let that kind of thing go, it gives me more time to have fun with the things I do enjoy.
That said, sometimes we often get people coming into our spaces to argue and I do like to have my citations ready when it comes to that. Within canon, you're always going to be able to argue about unreliable narrators, even when you point out that all the Force-using dark siders are pretty much miserable villains, there's going to be people who argue.
And one thing that's tricky in my opinion is that the dark side is "necessary" in that it exists. It will always exist. It exists within the Jedi--but they have never denied that it exists or that it's part of life. It's just that they don't embrace it, they don't let it bite into their heart, because Yoda's speech in The Phantom Menace is 100% accurate. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.
And if people want to argue about in-canon stuff like that, my response is usually just to go, "I tend to follow George Lucas' Star Wars." and leave room for others to enjoy Star Wars from other creators, if they wish. It's not a value judgement, if someone wants to enjoy something from the Legends continuity--that's what it's there for! And it's not my place to tell them that they're not allowed to enjoy it or follow that version instead. I hope they're having a blast! We'll just agree that we're working with incompatible views on authorial intentions priorities. People are not obligated to take Lucas' commentary with the same weight that I do, so I always advise that we learn to let go of things when someone doesn't hold the same views as we do on this kind of thing, because ultimately that is the message of Star Wars!
SO, THE DARK SIDE, here's what George Lucas directly has said about it:
“The core of the Force–I mean, you got the dark side, the light side, one is selfless, one is selfish, and you wanna keep them in balance. What happens when you go to the dark side is it goes out of balance and you get really selfish and you forget about everybody … because when you get selfish you get stuff, or you want stuff, and when you want stuff and you get stuff then you are afraid somebody is going to take it away from you, whether it’s a person or a thing or a particular pleasure or experience.
"Once you become afraid that somebody’s going to take it away from you or you’re gonna lose it, then you start to become angry, especially if you’re losing it, and that anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. Mostly on the part of the person who’s selfish, because you spend all your time being afraid of losing everything you’ve got instead of actually living.
"Where joy, by giving to other people you can’t think about yourself, and therefore there’s no pain. But the pleasure factor of greed and of selfishness is a short-lived experience, therefore you’re constantly trying to replenish it, but of course the more you replenish it, the harder it is to, so you have to keep upping the ante. You’re actually afraid of the pain of not having the joy.
"So that is ultimately the core of the whole dark side/light side of the Force. And everything flows from that. Obviously the Sith are always unhappy because they never get enough of anything they want. Mostly, their selfishness centers around power and control. And the struggle is always to be able to let go of all that stuff.
"And of course that’s the problem with Anakin ultimately. You’re allowed to love people, but you’re not allowed to possess them. And what he did is he fell in love and married her and then became jealous. Then he saw in his visions that she was going to die, and he couldn’t stand losing her. So in order to not lose her, he made a pact with the devil to be able to become all-powerful. When he did that, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore, so he lost her.
"Once you are powerful, being able to bring her back from the dead, if I can do that, I can become emperor of the universe. I can get rid of the Emperor. I can make everything the way I want it. Once you do that, you’ll never be satiated. You’re always going to be consumed by this driving desire to have more stuff and be afraid that others are going to take it away from you. And they are. Every time you get two Sith together, you have the master, the apprentice, and the apprentice is always trying to recruit another apprentice to join with him to kill the master. The master knows that basically everybody below him wants his job.
“Only way to overcome the dark side is through discipline. The dark side is pleasure, biological and temporary and easy to achieve. The light side is joy, everlasting and difficult to achieve. A great challenge. Must overcome laziness, give up quick pleasures, and overcome fear which leads to hate.” –George Lucas, Clone Wars Writers’ Meeting
“Happiness is pleasure and happiness is joy. It can be either one, you add them up and it can be the uber category of happiness.
“Pleasure is short lived. It lasts an hour, it lasts a minute, it lasts a month. It peaks and then it goes down–it peaks very high, but the next time you want to get that same peak you have to do it twice as much. It’s like drugs, you have to keep doing it because it insulates itself. No matter what it is, whether you’re shopping or you’re engaged in any other kind of pleasure. It all has the same quality about it.
“On the other hand is joy and joy is the thing that doesn’t go as high as pleasure, in terms of your emotional reaction. But it stays with you. Joy is something you can recall, pleasure you can’t. So the secret is that, even though it’s not as intense as pleasure, the joy will last you a lot longer.
“People who get the pleasure they keep saying, ‘Well, if I can just get richer and get more cars–!’ You’ll never relive the moment you got your first car, that’s it, that’s the highest peak. Yes, you could get three Ferraris and a new gulf stream jet and maybe you’ll get close. But you have to keep going and eventually you’ll run out. You just can’t do it, it doesn’t work.
“If you’re trying to sustain that level of peak pleasure, you’re doomed. It’s a very American idea, but it just can’t happen. You just let it go. Peak. Break. Pleasure is fun it’s great, but you can’t keep it going forever.
“Just accept the fact that it’s here and it’s gone, and maybe again it’ll come back and you’ll get to do it again. Joy lasts forever. Pleasure is purely self-centered. It’s all about your pleasure, it’s about you. It’s a selfish self-centered emotion, that’s created by self-centered motive of greed.
“Joy is compassion, joy is giving yourself to somebody else or something else. And it’s the kind of thing that is in it’s subtlty and lowness more powerful than pleasure. If you get hung up on pleasure you’re doomed. If you pursue joy you will find everlasting happiness.” --George Lucas, Academy of Achievement Speech, 2013
"Knowing that the film was made for a young audience, I was trying to say, in a simple way, that there is a God and that there is both a good side and a bad side. You have a choice between them, but the world works better if you're on the good side." --George Lucas Interviews
”[The Jedi] trained more than anything else to understand the transitional nature of life, that things are constantly changing and you can’t hold on to anything. You can love things but you can’t be attached to them, You must be willing to let the flow of life and the flow of the Force move through your life, move through you. So that you can be compassionate and loving and caring, but not be possessive and grabbing and holding on to things and trying to keep things the way they are. Letting go is the central theme of the film.“ –George Lucas, Star Wars Archives 1999-2005
BILL MOYERS: “Do you know yet what, in a future episode, is going to transform Anakin Skywalker to the dark side?”
GEORGE LUCAS: “Yes, I know what that is. The groundwork has been laid in this episode. The film is ultimately about the dark side and the light side, and those sides are designed around compassion and greed. The issue of greed, of getting things and owning things and having things and not being able to let go of things, is the opposite of compassion–of not thinking of yourself all the time. These are the two sides–the good force and the bad force. They’re the simplest parts of a complex cosmic construction.” --George Lucas and Bill Moyers 1999, Time Magazine
“The core issue, ultimately, is greed, possessiveness - the inability to let go. Not only to hold on to material things, which is greed, but to hold on to life, to the people you love - to not accept the reality of life’s passages and changes, which is to say things come, things go. Everything changes. Anakin becomes emotionally attached to things, his mother, his wife. That’s why he falls - because he does not have the ability to let go.
“No human can let go. It’s very hard. Ultimately, we do let go because it’s inevitable; you do die, and you do lose your loved ones. But while you’re alive, you can’t be obsessed with holding on. As Yoda says in this one, [The scene in which Anakin seeks Yoda’s counsel] You must learn to let go of everything you’re afraid to let go of.’ Because holding on is in the same category and the precursor to greed. And that’s what a Sith is. A Sith is somebody that is absolutely obsessed with gaining more and more power - but for what? Nothing, except that it becomes an obsession to get more. The Jedi are trained to let go. They’re trained from birth, they’re not supposed to form attachments. They can love people- in fact, they should love everybody. They should love their enemies; they should love the Sith. But they can’t form attachments. So, what all these movies are about is: greed. Greed is a source of pain and suffering for everybody. And the ultimate state of greed is the desire to cheat death.” --George Lucas, The Making of Revenge of the Sith, 2005
“The thing about Anakin is, Anakin started out as a nice kid. He was kind, and sweet, and lovely, and he was then trained as a Jedi. But the Jedi can’t be selfish. They can love but they can’t love people to the point of possession. You can’t really possess somebody, because people are free. It’s possession that causes a lot of trouble, and that causes people to kill people, and causes people to be bad. Ultimately it has to do with being unwilling to give things up.
“The whole basis here is if you’re selfish, if you’re a Sith Lord, you’re greedy. You’re constantly trying to get something. And you’re constantly in fear of not getting it, or, when you get it, you’re in constant fear of losing it. And it’s that fear that takes you to the dark side. It’s that fear of losing what you have or want.
“Sometimes it’s ambition, but sometimes, like in the case of Anakin, it was fear of losing his wife. He knew she was going to die. He didn’t quite know how, so he was able to make a pact with a devil that if he could learn how to keep people from dying, he would help the Emperor. And he became a Sith Lord. Once he started saying, “Well, we could take over the galaxy, I could take over from the Emperor, I could have ultimate power,” Padmé saw right through him immediately. She said, “You’re not the person I married. You’re a greedy person.” So that’s ultimately how he fell and he went to the dark side.
“And then Luke had the chance to do the same thing. He didn’t do it.” --George Lucas, The Phantom Menace, An Oral History, 2019
“The secret ultimately like in Star Wars is that you have to not be afraid. Fear is the enemy; fear is the Dark Side. If you afraid, you are going to the Dark Side. The Light Side is compassion. As long as you love other people and treat them kindly, you won’t be afraid. So, the secret is to just love everybody - I know that sounds very 60s but that’s what I grew up in - but it its fear that cause the
problem. So you have to stop being afraid and be kind to everybody.
“The main theme of Star Wars is that compassion is the good side, fear is the bad side.” --George Lucas, Mellody Hobson George Lucas - Virtual Speaker Interview, 2021
“The thing with Anakin is that he started out a great kid he was very compassionate, so the issue was how did he turn bad. How did he go to the Dark Side? He went to the Dark Side, Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments. They can love people, they can do that, but they can’t attach, that’s the problem in the world of fear. Once you are attached to something then you become afraid of losing it. And when you become afraid of losing it, than you turn to the Dark Side, and you want to hold onto it, and that was Anakin’s issue ultimately, that he wanted to hold onto his wife who he knew, he had a premonition that she was going to die, he didn’t know how to stop it, so he went to the Dark Side to find, in mythology you do to hades, and you talk to the devil, and the devil says ‘this is what you do’ and basically you sell your soul to the devil. When you do that, and you’re afraid and you’re on the Dark Side and you fall off the golden path of compassion because you are greedy, you want to hold on to something that you love and he didn’t do the right thing and as a result he turned bad.” --George Lucas, Mellody Hobson George Lucas - Virtual Speaker Interview, 2021
“Obviously, there are people that just do the easy thing, and the easy thing is to be angry, which turns to hate. It’s not an active thing; it’s a passive thing. Being angry with somebody is a passive thing. You have to work not to be angry, and if you don’t work at it, you’ll just be angry for the rest of your life. Bitter, angry, and of course that leads to suffering - it’s the bad side.” --George Lucas, The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005
“In this film, [The Phantom Menace] you begin to see that he has a fear of losing things, a fear of losing his mother, and as a result, he wants to begin to control things, he wants to become powerful, and these are not Jedi traits. And part of these are because he was starting to be trained so late in life, that he’d already formed these attachments. And for a Jedi, attachment is forbidden.” --George Lucas, CNN, 2002
There's probably more, if you want to scan through my Jedi Culture and Teachings in Canon guide, just look for chapter 2 of any given part, the section on "How the Force works" is where I put any of these quotes, and you can look around if you're looking for more examples of how the dark side needs to be faced and overcome, that it's part of the nature of life, but that we and the Jedi both should be choosing the light, because that's the way to eternal joy, the dark is the way to eternal suffering. (Check out "Jedi and the need to focus, to be calm when using the Force" section especially, because the Force becomes unreliable for a Jedi when they get angry.)
Overall, it's about how the dark side is consistently, repeatedly tied to attachment (the fear of living without someone, so desperate that you'll let a thousand people die to save that one person you can't live without, as it's more aligned with the Buddhist meaning), tied to fear and anger and hate, which are parts of our lives, but that we must work to overcome. The Jedi don't deny this--look at any scene where they express negative emotions, Mace does it on Geonosis, Yoda does it at Palpatine before their big fight, Obi-Wan is mad on Geonosis when Anakin almost abandons his post, etc., but they don't let it bite into their heart, they let those feelings pass, they let them go and find their way back to calm and peace, because "the world works better when you're on the side of good (the light side)".
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📰 | epilogue: capulet.
info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, 6 year timeskip, cute Judith moments, S10 Negan (aka Negan redemption arc), winter vibes because I wish it snowed where I live.
summary: Six years later, Carl and Reader consider what the future holds.
holy shit guys…it’s over! it’s done! writing this was so weird but also i’m very happy with the ending, and also getting to expand on Carl’s character beyond his death in canon was amazingly freeing.
i’ve got some requests to catch up on, but feel free to ask for stuff in the Capulet-canon! i’ll definitely go back to this and do little spinoff oneshots because they r very cute.
i hope you enjoy this as much as i did!
-> masterlist <-
Snow crunches under your feet as you treck back to Alexandria’s walls. A thin layer has dusted itself over your hair and shoulders, falling from the fabric of your jacket with each step. Slung over your back is a bundle of game: mostly rabbits, some squirrels, all tied up at the feet.
They’d designated you to checking the traps, a fairly mundane job that was mostly bearable, sans when the weather was this harsh. Having a small amount of freedom was nice at times, where you could be alone with the woods, though you knew someone was trailing nearby, shadowing your every move.
It didn’t hurt that much, knowing they didn’t trust you. You understood. But it sucked that it was these random assholes who hadn’t even been there during the war. Since when did they get a say?
Regardless, you felt relief as you arrived back home, if you could even call it that. The gates opened with a creak, allowing you inside, a familiar scene yet twisted in so many ways.
It had been six years since the war ended.
Six years of living in Alexandria, carefully under everybody’s watch. Of being torn down and scrutinised for mistakes you’d made as a teenager. Not that you’d call them mistakes, maybe that was your biggest flaw, being too prideful.
Someone comes to collect the bounty, to which you hand over the bundle, not before untying one of the rabbits you’d personally shot. That one would make your dinner tonight, besides, you’d been promising Judith a lucky rabbits foot.
The man doesn’t speak to you, though you aren’t offended. You’ve never been a big fan of small talk. In your opinion, there are very few you have the patience to converse with, and as long as they were still interested, then nobody else mattered.
Speaking of people important to you.
In the distance, you could spot Negan plowing snow along the main road that ran through Alexandria. You internally rolled your eyes, knowing that they’d been giving him stupider and stupider jobs recently.
There’s another figure, a young boy, who’s been tasked with watching him. He sits on a porch, a few feet away, kicking at the frosty ground.
“Hey, you wanna take a break?” You ask him, standing in front of the young male. The rabbit is still slung from your shoulder, along with the bow on your back.
He looks a little confused with the suggestion, and maybe offput that you’re talking to him. “No, I’m.. alright, thank you.” He attempts to brush you off, though clearly remains wary, almost unsettled by your presence.
You roll your eyes this time, not willing to continue this pointless back and forth. “Fuck off, okay? Just for a few minuets. Go waste your time somewhere else.” You demand.
Only a second of glaring down at the boy and he’s scurried off, likely to tell someone of your hostility. That’s one benefit, at least, that not many are willing to engage in a physical altercation with you, as they’d all heard stories of the war.
As you turn around, you catch Negan already watching you. A smile spreads onto your face, despite his rugged appearance, and the snow all over your jacket.
“You’re gonna be in deep shit for that one, you know?” He tells you, as if it isn’t obvious, though his tone indicates that he is pleased to see you again.
Lately, you’d been finding Negan more often around Alexandria, usually gardening or doing some other boring maintenance task. Depending on who was around, you were even sometimes allowed to visit him in his cell.
It hadn’t been like that for a long time, though. For the first four years after the war, you weren’t allowed any sort of contact. It was hard, and you’d struggled with bouts of depression on particularly difficult days, but things were starting to look up again.
“I don’t really care.” You shrug, smile turning into a downright grin as you approach. “Can’t make me do anything worse than hunting in dead-winter.”
As you crossed the path, Negan’s smile grew tender. He extended his arm to you, palm cupping the back of your neck and thumb moving the snowy hair from your face.
Though he had many regrets, letting you get caught up in everything was the biggest. In many ways he felt like he’d failed his job, which was to foster and protect a young girl. Yet, time and time again, you were put in harms way.
“What about plowing snow?” Negan sarcastically suggests, leaning on the handle of his shovel. The notion made you frown, straightening out the blue shirt he wore.
“No jacket?” You question, brows furrowed while you looked up at him.
The concern on your face made Negan smile, having watched you grow from a reckless teenager to a conscious young woman. “Nah. I have thick skin, doll.”
Regardless, you roll your eyes, trying to swallow your concern as you look to the snowy path. “I’m gonna ask someone about getting you warmer clothes.”
“I should be the one that’s worried,” Negan points out, “Hunting in this weather? It’s like they’re tryna’ kill you.”
He says it with a slightly bitter tone, genuinely irritated despite the fact that you’ve lived quite comfortably in Alexandria over the years. More so than him, certainly. Yet, the concern makes you smile, regardless.
“Someone’s gotta do it,” You justify with a shrug, “Trust me, I tried to dodge. Been feeling kinda shitty recently.”
“Shitty?” He echos.
“Yeah. Just.. bleh, y’know?”
Negan gives you a stern look, “I don’t know.”
You roll your eyes, not wanting to worry him over something you’d already written off as insignificant. “Just feelin’ icky lately, maybe a bit nauseous. I think this weathers fucking me up.
This causes him to let up a little, though you don’t miss the smug grin on Negan’s face as he continues to shovel snow. “Don’t sound like the weather,” He remarks, “Sure you aren’t pregnant? You and Carl are probably breedin’ like bunnies now you’re living together.”
The vulgar attitude never usually phased you, but this time your brow furrowed, glaring over at the man. “Don’t be gross.” You grumbled.
Luckily, Negan lets up, knowing this may be a soft spot for you. “Fine, I’m just teasing, doll. But you’ll tell me if it gets worse?”
“Yeah,” You agree, hoisting the supplies on your back a little higher. “I’ve gotta go get this rabbit skinned. And I’ll see about that jacket, okay?”
In return, he gives you a semi-enthusiastic thumbs up, though you know the emotion isn’t there. It makes you smile. You’ve truly missed him over these years, and seeing the toll imprisonments had on his attitude is jarring.
Nonetheless, you treck further into the community, locating your place. The small house sits near the back end, away from the main commotion, which you’ve grown to appreciate over time. Originally, you stayed there with Aaron, who was tasked with keeping an eye on you.
Then it was Rosita, and occasionally Tara. Back then, you were equally rude and hostile, and made a point to prove your disdain towards the entire situation. Of course, over the years, those walls melted away and you were forced into a state of acceptance.
Now, there was nobody watching over you. At least not in the safety of your own home. With the rate he was over, Carl practically lived there, though you knew he just didn’t like being in his own house with Rick gone. You’d understand how that would be unsettling.
The door creaked when you opened it, the haul causing you to bump it open with your hip. You dumped the bag at the door, and managed to unhook the bow with one hand.
You ventured further inside, intending to throw the dead rabbit onto the back porch to skin it. But you barely made it three steps down before your mission was halted, two arms snatched around your waist and tugging you back into a firm body.
“Jesus,” You huffed, “I didn’t hear you.”
Carl looks down, eyeing the left side of your head, completely flattened with the absence of an ear. “Shit. Sorry.” He apologised, having momentarily forgot in his haste to greet you.
The injury had thankfully healed, but your eardrum was ruined beyond repair. You were completely deaf from one side.
“I’m also wielding a dead rabbit, so watch out.” You remind him, shimming in his hold so that you’re face to face, though you hold the rabbit at an arms length away from his body.
“Then.. is this a bad time to kiss you?” He asks, and though it sounds genuine, the little smirk on his face indicates that your answer doesn’t matter.
You roll your eyes, a smile growing on your own face. Somehow, after all these years, you still get all bashful. “Never a bad time.”
No matter how much time passed, his lips would always feel perfect on your own. Carl kissed you like you were precious, made of porcelain, and the idea that someone was capable of being so gentle excited you. That, and it let you take control, something you lacked in your current life.
You shimmied your spare hand out of the snowy glove, so that you could wrap it around his neck. Lately, Carl had been letting you trim his hair, though you opted to keep it that same shoulder length, thinking it made him just adorable. He wore the bandage less, too, at least when at home.
Coming up for air, Carl pressed another tender kiss to your cheek, holding you a little closer. “Your hand is really cold.” He whispered.
In response, you dragged your palm over his face, squishing the cold flesh into his cheek. He groaned, finally letting go of you, seeeking reprieve from your snowy fingers.
You were finally able to continue down the hallway, though his footsteps followed right behind.
“Do you want to catch dinner with everyone?” He asked, “They’re cooking the rabbits down by the church.”
“I hate everyone.” You point out, bracing yourself against the cold air outdoors. There’s a metal peg hanging from the back porch, which you affix the rope onto, allowing the rabbit to dangle from its feet.
You can hear Carl has stopped behind you, leaning against the back door. “Besides, I think I wanna stay in. Still feelin’ kinda rough.” You say with a shrug.
It’s like a fish on a hook, where Carl can’t resist clinging to every little word you say. “Still? Do you need to see a doctor?” He suggests, worry in his tone.
Trying to ease his concern, you let go of the rabbit, giving Carl your full attention. “I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s nothing. A cold.”
Carl takes this as permission to dig deeper, wanting to find the root of this issue. He approaches, one hand settling on your hip, the other feeling your forehead. Though your temperature feels fine, he still remarks, “You don’t look like you have a cold.”
“Okay, genius. When did you get your degree?” You quip, the snappy attitude earning you an unamused glare, though it only takes a second before Carl is kissing your forehead, where his hand was.
It irritates you to no end that he’s so forgiving. But over time, Carl has learnt that you get defensive easily, expressed in irritated remarks that can turn borderline cruel. It’s his sign that something is wrong, but he needs to back off for the time being.
“I’ll skin the rabbit. You can lie down.” He suggests.
Your eyes narrow into a glare, not liking the insinuation that you can’t handle it. Though, you’re unable to be properly angry, knowing that he is trying to help. “Thank you.” You end up whispering in agreement, setting aside your pride for the time being.
With that aside, you decided to go and clean up from the hunt. There were little bloodstains on your jacket, so you left it hanging in the laundry for now, intending to deal with it later. Your boots were left at the door, and you quickly walked into the bedroom, intending to wiggle out of the snowy clothes.
Your hair was slightly damp, scalp a little sore from having it tied up all day. So, you padded into the bathroom, hoping to have a hot shower. But the second you looked in the mirror, you remembered what Negan had suggested. Albeit jokingly, but he still said it.
It was like a cruel history repeating itself. Being pregnant was a death sentance, in your eyes. Your own mother had died of birth complications, and that was before the apocalypse. That’s not to mention Lori.
Just the idea made you feel sick again. Scrounging through the bathroom cabinet, you found the beat-up packaging of a pregnancy test you’d stashed after finding it on a run. Just looking at it, all decorated in pink, made you feel worse.
You left it on the counter, hoping a shower would clear your head.
It didn’t.
The test was taunting you, staring at you through the foggy frosted glass of the shower. As much as you hated the notion, it wouldn’t leave your mind unless you got it over with. It was time to bite the bullet.
Still soaking wet from the shower, you fumbled with the box, hands shaking as you read the instructions. Whilst you peed into the little cup, you thought back to all the times you’d been intimate with Carl. The pair of you were relatively safe. But, maybe… maybe there’d been a few times you slipped up.
God, Negan was right. The pair of you were animals. It was like a late puberty, you couldn’t help it, you wanted to jump him at every opportunity. And now, this was your punishment.
A positive pregnancy test.
More like an execution date.
You spend a good ten minutes sitting on the bathroom floor, this indescribable weight on your chest. It gets heavier as time goes by, and you convince yourself that you may actually be unable to breathe if this continues.
Pulling on some clothes, you slowly inch from the bathroom, hair and skin still wet, though that doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t tell Carl, but at the same time, you need to.
You come to a stop at the back of the house, and before you can open the door, you notice Judith through the window. She’s sitting on the porch, talking with Carl as he attempts to skin the rabbit. His technique isn’t very good, but she doesn’t know any better. You hadn’t heard her come in, too busy wallowing in your own panic.
She stands, accepting a knife that Carl offers her, attempting to mimic his actions and take a chunk of fur off the rabbit. Judith struggles, not having the right angle, causing an uneven slice through the rabbits thigh.
Finally, you give in, pushing the door open. “You two are gonna butcher my rabbit.”
Judith turns to you, an eager smile on her face. She offers the knife, handle up like she’d been taught, “Show me?”
Though you accept the knife, Carl interjects, “She’s just had a shower, Jude.” He points out.
“It’s fine,” You assure them, rolling up the sleeves of your pyjama shirt despite the biting cold, “I’ll wash off with the hose. Now watch me, both of you.”
You teach the siblings how to properly skin a rabbit, explaining little tips and answering all of Judith’s questions. Though you’d come here to break some terrible news, you somehow find yourself feeling a little better. Watching Carl try and teach Judith something was heartwarming, and you wondered if he’d be this attentive with his own child.
That, and making Judith an aunt would be a gift in itself.
Later that night, you walk Judith back to her house, where Michonne was already waiting for her. She seemed relieved to know Judith was with you and Carl, given the girl had a tendency to investigate into some of the darker cracks of Alexandria.
There was still that one, heavy piece of information weighing on your mind. Though, it seemed to get lighter and lighter as time went on. When it came time to sleep, you were comfortably nestled against Carl’s side, your head resting on his shoulder.
The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy to blurt out, yet you felt like doing some preemptive damage control.
“Would you ever wanna have kids?” You ask in a whisper, almost completely inaudible.
Given the circumstances, Carl finds the inquiry pretty strange. He shifts a little, laying on his side, so that you’re forced to face him.
“Maybe.” He says, though he sounds a little unsure of himself.
But maybe isn’t a no.
You stay silent for a moment, unsure of how to proceed now that you’ve gotten your answer. The silence causes Carl to grow curious, curious as to what has sparked this sudden interest.
“Do you?” He asks, looking you right in the eye, which makes you squirm a little.
Everything points towards your admission, but you can’t force the words from your mouth. So you just lay there, watching him, looking a little pent up and almost slightly guilty.
Fortunately, Carl isn’t stupid. He’s quite attentive, actually, especially when it comes to your health.
That, and he’d already found the empty test box in the bathroom, crumpled into the wastebin.
“C’mon.” He whispers, pulling you back into him, arms wrapped around your form. His hand makes its way into your hair, fingers twirling in the strands, keeping your head pressed firmly against his chest.
Carl swallows the lump in his throat, similarly unable to address the issue at hand. But maybe you’d rather he didn’t. “I love you, okay?” He ends up whispering, words uttered against the crown of your head.
You muster a little nod, shifting to worm your arms around his torso. You mirror his tone, quiet and hoarse, though that weight is finally beginning to disappear.
“I love you, too.”
#carl grimes x reader#the walking dead x reader#twd x reader#carl grimes#twd x you#carl grimes x you#negan smith x reader#the walking dead#negan smith
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could you write a fic about any cillian character, of ur choice, were its the readers first time and he is really sweet and gentle? Luv your writings btw!!!
Any character, you say...? 👀 Well, then I guess it's time to take a shot at my white whale. I love zombies, I love 28 Days Later, and I love Jim. I have been somewhat avoiding writing for him because I didn't feel like I had any strong concepts for a fic, and I struggle to get his "voice" right in my head for the dialogue. But gosh darn it, the world needs more Jim fics. And I feel like this prompt just fits him. Thank you for the request, anon, and for giving me the push I needed!
Morning Light
Pairing: Jim (28 Days Later) x Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Summary: In a rare moment of peace in a strange new world, you and Jim find comfort in each other's arms.
Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity (for reader, not Jim), oral (f receiving), praise, brief mention of past attempted sexual assault (basically what happens in canon), for the purposes of this fic we're gonna pretend that Jim doesn't get shot in the stomach lmao
***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***
Jim’s lips taste like something you can’t quite put your finger on. Whatever it is, it has you swooning. Dizzy with desire as you inhale; trying to steady your breath while your hand trails down over his bare chest.
“We really don’t have to,” he murmurs.
“I know,” you reply. “But I want to.”
You lean in for another kiss. Bodies pressed so tightly together, laying on the rickety little bed in the tiny cottage you now call home, you truly do want nothing more. Jim, stretched lazily out beneath you, brings a hand up to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your senses swell with that scent, whatever it is, and your eyes flutter closed against the light that streams in through the windows.
“Are you sure?” he asks, pulling away again, just enough to speak.
His nose still brushes softly against yours, and his thumb trails over your cheek. You feel yourself melt deeper into his touch, almost too distracted to remember to respond.
“I’m sure.”
“But… really? So soon after…”
You know what he’s about to say. What he doesn’t want to remember; choosing instead to let himself trail off as he smooths his fingers over your jawline. But that - that horrible thing that almost happened - is all part of the reason why you want Jim so badly. You want your first time to be with him. To be special; with someone you truly care for.
Years and years ago, when all of your friends had been so desperate to grow up and run headfirst into their sexuality, you had been content to wait. But now, things have changed. Being alive suddenly feels fragile and impermanent, and your dangerous encounter with the soldiers has taught you that life doesn’t wait for you. Nor does it wait for that perfect moment.
Although, this moment here with Jim does feel somehow perfect. Jim’s body against yours is warm, and even with both of your sweaters flung over the side of the bed, you feel a heat washing over your chest as Jim wraps his strong arms around you a little tighter.
“Jim, are you really the nervous one here?” You laugh, your voice a bit airy and high as it betrays your own nerves.
“M’not nervous,” he scoffs. “I’m just… I don’t want to hurt you, or force you into anything.”
You let your body sink into his. Jim pulls you even closer, pressing your weight into his chest. Your forehead rests lightly against his, noses still touching as you laugh again.
“Girl gets you naked in bed like this, and you still think you’re forcing her?” you tease.
“Well, fair.” Jim relents. “You were the one who took off my clothes.”
Jim nuzzles into another kiss as he speaks, breaking some of the tension and making you clutch at his chest. This time, his lips linger against yours a little longer, parting just slightly so the tip of his tongue can dart out. You feel the ache inside of you deepen, your body calling out to his.
“But you’re sure, though?” Jim asks again. He moves his hand to your shoulder, steadying you. “You do want to? We don’t have t-”
His words are cut off by your hand drifting lower, until your fingers are wrapped tightly around him. Despite Jim’s insistence that you don’t “have to,” it’s abundantly clear that he wants to.
His skin is like silk under your fingers. Your hand moves slowly up and down, coaxing him on as you bite at his lip. Jim breaks the kiss to lean his head back into the pillow, eyes still shut as an expression of bliss overtakes his features.
“Okay - you’re sure you haven’t done this before?” he jokes, one blue eye cracking open to look at you.
You try to contain a laugh.
“Don’t flatter me,” you tease back. “It’s probably just been months since you’ve gotten any…”
“Ouch, insulting my masculinity and yet she still expects me to fuck her.”
Jim meets your sly look with one of his own, just as your expression crumbles into embarrassment. His smirk quickly turns into a smile, seeing the effect his words have.
“And she likes a little dirty talk, does she?”
Your face heats up even more, and Jim kisses the tip of your nose.
“Sorry, love. Just can’t resist teasin’ ya,” he hums.
Despite your inexperience, you feel certain that you’re not supposed to feel this flustered. But, Jim has that effect on you. He always has. The pressure that’s been steadily building between your legs suddenly feels even more uncomfortable.
“Having second thoughts?” Jim laughs as you wriggle against him.
“You wish,” you challenge, pressing your nose against his a bit harder.
Suddenly, Jim grabs your waist and flips you over, so that his weight is pressed over you. He sinks a kiss into the hollow of your neck - still gentle, but with a hint of lust now that’s becoming impossible to ignore.
“Guess I might as well just give in if y’want it so badly,” Jim whispers, his breath fanning hot against your chest.
His words send a thrill of excitement through you; bursting out from your lungs and rushing all the way down to your toes. You bring your hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he pulls away from you. You’re confused for a moment, until he looks up into your eyes as he sinks lower down your body.
“How’s this?” Jim starts. “First I’ll eat you out, an’ then we can see how you’re feeling.”
The air seems to catch in your throat, but you nod. Jim plants a soft kiss on your stomach before drifting lower, hands parting your legs so that he can settle in.
“Lucky me,” Jim says, taking a long look at you. “Pretty face and a pretty pus-”
“Jim!” you cry, covering your face with your hands.
He kisses the inside of your leg, teasing with a gentle nip of his teeth.
“Ah, don’t get all shy on me, now,” he murmurs.
You look down to see a devilish glint in Jim’s eyes, staring back up at you. They’re so blue, you think you could drown in them. But, you fight to shake yourself out of the trance.
“It’s hard not to when you’re… looking at it,” you complain, laughing nervously.
“Hey, don’t be embarrassed - I mean it. You’re beautiful.”
Your cheeks burn hotter than ever as Jim continues.
“Every part of you is beautiful.”
He kisses your leg again, and before you have a chance to respond, his lips have moved over your core, and you gasp. Jim’s mouth is warm and wet; his tongue pressed flat against you as he gives you a moment to get used to the sensation. It’s so different from anything you’ve ever felt. Of course, you had touched yourself there before - but Jim’s tongue is nothing like the rough pads of your fingers. It’s so soft, and you feel yourself sink further into the mattress, prompting a low creak from the ancient bedframe.
Jim’s tongue moves just a centimeter, brushing up against your clit as he sucks gently into his mouth. You can’t help the soft sigh that leaves you, or the way your fingers grab onto the bed sheets, fabric bunching up in your grip.
“How’s that feel, love?” Jim asks, breaking away.
“It’s… wow,” you answer, already a little out of breath.
“Rave reviews,” Jim jokes, smile creeping back over his face. “Tell all your friends, yeah?”
You have half a mind to shove him, if only you could find the willpower to reach down between your legs. As it is, all you can do is let out another breathy sigh. Your body feels strangely heavy, and you use every ounce of your strength to move your hips down toward him.
“Jim… more,” you plead.
You expect him to make another quip, but instead, you feel his tongue press against you again, the fan of his breath tickling you as he sighs happily. Your fingers curl, and your back arches. One of Jim’s hands comes up to find yours, peeling your fingers out from the blankets so that they can intertwine with his. You squeeze his hand, feeling yourself grow more and more desperate as the swirl of new sensations overwhelm you.
“J-Jim-”
You barely get to start your sentence before the pleasure reaches its peak, washing over you like the rays of soft sunlight still pouring in through the windows. Your sharp cry turns into a gasp, breath hitching as your whole body seems to buzz. Jim’s hand in yours anchors you, as his lips kiss you gently through your release.
When he sits up, Jim’s face is just a bit too smug.
“What are you smiling at?” you groan, throwing your head back into the pillow to stare up at the ceiling.
“Making you feel good,” Jim answers sincerely.
He kisses his way back up your body, finally pressing his lips to your shoulder and leaving another small bite.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
You sigh, letting all of the air leave your lungs. The pause lingers for a brief moment before you answer.
“Like I’m floating.”
“That good, huh?”
You can practically hear the smirk in Jim’s voice. Weakly, you bat at his arms.
“Don’t get all cocky,” you warn.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
Jim really is unbearable. You look at each other for a moment, Jim’s eyes fixed intently on your face, while you can still hardly focus on what’s in front of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
“Still want to keep going?” Jim asks you.
“Mmmm,” you sigh, nodding your head.
Jim’s hand slides down to cup your sex, one finger brushing against your entrance. He leans up to kiss you properly, pausing at the feel of your tongue in his mouth as you press past his lips. Whatever you had tasted there before was gone; replaced by your own slightly tangy arousal. Jim groans, and a deep hum fills your mouth.
“Let me know if you want me to stop,” he whispers.
But as soon as he pushes past your resistance, you know there’s no chance of you stopping him. The stretch is too good. You’ve done this before to yourself, too - but your fingers are slender compared to Jim’s. His fill you up and have you nearly seeing stars as you cling to him, moving to grasp his arms for support.
“Feels good?”
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. The stretch only stings a little bit, and you’re so wet you barely even notice. The pleasure takes over as Jim pumps in and out of you, coating his finger with your slick.
“One more,” you beg.
“Be patient,” Jim scolds, as he continues to slowly work you open. “Try to relax a bit more.”
You do; letting your body settle down onto the mattress. As you relax your muscles, trying to focus again on your steady breathing, Jim kisses the edge of your jaw.
“Okay,” he says. “Tell me if this is too much.”
Despite your best attempts to loosen up, the addition of a second finger is just a bit painful, stretching you beyond anything you’ve felt before. You jump, a little surprised, then relax into the feel of it.
“Still alright?”
“Mmm-hm,” you reply, breathing slowly out through your nose.
“Good,” Jim breathes. “Doing so well for me, love.”
His words make you melt, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers. Jim lets out a low moan.
“Fuck,” he laughs. “You’re gonna feel amazing. Can’t wait ‘til you’re wrapped around me.”
There’s that familiar heat on your face, rushing in as Jim makes your whole body burn with his words yet again. Not as filthy as before, but somehow the genuine lust in his voice is even worse. You feel him yearning for you; still pressed hard against your leg as he patiently stretches you out. You tilt your head back into the pillows, silently begging him to kiss your neck, and Jim’s lips press over your pulse.
“Jim?” you sigh.
“Hm?”
“Can you please stop stalling and fuck me now?”
You feel Jim smirk against your neck, clearly enjoying the fact that you have a dirty mouth, too - when you want to. He presses one more kiss to your collarbone.
“Stalling, am I? First time I’ve heard a girl call it that.”
Jim laughs, briefly, and you feel his breath fan over you again.
“I’d ask if you’re sure you’re ready,” he taunts. “But I really don’t think I’ve ever made anyone this wet before.”
You’re so turned on you almost forget to be embarrassed, but the feeling of Jim shifting to line up with your entrance is enough to make that burning heat creep over your cheeks again.
“Are you ready, though?” Jim asks, kissing you quickly before pulling back to let you answer.
“I am.”
You reach up to wrap your arms tight around him again as he sinks into you, pressing forward inch by inch. Your eyes widen by the time he’s halfway in, shocked at how it just keeps going. Jim feels your hesitation and stops.
“Everything alright?” he pants. Clearly, Jim is having a bit of trouble composing himself, too.
“It’s fine,” you reply. “Just… big.”
Jim laughs, a little more strained than usual as your walls press all around him.
“You’ll really have to stop stroking my ego like that if you want this to last more than five minutes, love,” he teases.
“Jim…” you start to complain.
“I know, I know. ‘Shut up and fuck me,’ she says,” Jim mutters. He presses into you a bit more, and a soft, desperate sigh leaves your lips. “Or at least, she would if she could think straight,” he continues.
He’s right; you’re not thinking of anything other than him, and how he’s filling you up so completely. Stretching out your walls and touching places inside of you that you didn’t know even existed, until now. Replacing the dull ache of your arousal with an unfamiliar pressure - but certainly not an unwelcome one.
“How’s it feel?” Jim asks.
“It’s… different. Feels kind of weird,” you admit.
“Okay, you don’t have to keep my ego in check that much,” Jim laughs. His eyes meet yours for a brief second, and then close. “But, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”
Jim’s face dips down to your shoulder, and you can tell that he’s barely still able to hold it together. Although you had been joking earlier, you’re certain that it truly has been months for Jim. You can’t say for sure when the last time he got laid was, but it had to have been before the start of everything. Poor guy. This is the perfect opportunity to mess with him. Call it payback for all the teasing.
“Alright,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice light and jovial. It’s harder than it should be when your heart is pounding out of your chest. “I got what I wanted out of you; we can stop now.”
Jim groans above you, his forehead pressing even deeper into the crook of your shoulder.
“You’re joking,” he whines, one hand gripping at your waist. His fingers tighten a little. “Please say you’re joking.”
You stay silent, lips pursed together in a barely-contained smile. Jim pulls back to look at you, and instantly notices the smug look on your face.
“You’re unbelievable,” Jim huffs, pressing his lips against your neck once again in a hungry kiss.
He pinches your hip, making you squirm. Jim steadies you, holding you in place as he plants another kiss on your lips, then pulls back.
“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” he teases.
“You mean the good part wasn’t watching you almost cum all over the sheets just from eating me out?”
Now it’s Jim’s turn to be flustered, and you watch with delight as a soft dusting of pink crosses his cheeks.
“You’d better watch it,” Jim says, squeezing you again. “I was gonna be gentle, you know. But if you keep this up, I might just have to fuck you silly.”
You giggle, the sound of your bright laughter filling the room. For a few seconds, the only thing in the world that matters is Jim. Every moment that’s brought you here, no matter how painfully etched in stone, is worth it to be here with him.
“Will you, though?” you say, bringing Jim’s face a bit closer so yours can look into his eyes. “Be gentle?”
“Of course,” Jim hums, leaning down to kiss your soft lips. “Are you still feeling okay?”
“Yes…”
And you are. You've gotten used to the stretch, and the strange pressure has built into a need that has you fighting to stop yourself from pushing up against Jim’s hips, desperate for friction.
“You sure?” Jim asks, sensing that something has been left unsaid.
“I just… I want to feel you move,” you admit, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
Jim turns his head to kiss your temple, letting his lips hover over your warm skin.
“That's the good part, love,” Jim teases. “Wrap your legs around me,’kay?”
You do as he says, bringing your legs up to fold around his waist. It causes Jim to hit at a new angle inside you, and for a second you think about backing out. This feels like it could be too much; like he's able to press too deeply inside of you - and the thought of giving someone else so much of yourself is daunting.
But when Jim starts to move, gently and carefully, all of your worries disappear. The first few times he thrusts feel a bit strange, but soon, the feeling is making you lightheaded in the best possible way. Not to mention the way that the swell of his head seems to part you, making you clench at his absence and sigh in pure bliss when he fills you back up. You can feel every inch of yourself as he slowly rocks in and out, hips staying close to avoid overwhelming you.
“Jim!” you cry, squeezing your legs around him a little harder.
“You like it there?” he grunts, his voice gentle but laced with desire.
He changes his angle to hit the spot again, and this time your fingers press into his back. Jim kisses you, swallowing your moans as you feel yourself building toward your release. This time, with Jim pressing deep inside you, you feel yourself clamp down around him.
“Gonna come for me again, pretty girl?” Jim whispers.
Your body is too rigid to even nod as you feel it finally wash over you - a wave of pleasure more intense than you can handle. You're panting and laughing all at once as Jim presses kisses all over your face.
“That was incredible,” he praises, softly.
You look up to see him, his face framed so perfectly in the glow of the morning light. His lips are slightly parted, awe plainly written in the way his eyes trail over you. You have a sudden urge to run your fingers through his cropped hair, and press his mouth to yours.
But instead, Jim leans down to give you another gentle kiss. That taste on his lips is back again, slightly sweet and utterly addictive.
“Enjoy your first time, love?” Jim teases, pulling himself out of you with one final, toe-curling drag. He kisses you again, lips pressed firm against yours like there’s truly nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.
You surface from your post-sex haze just long enough to be confused. Aren't these things supposed to end with a little more… bravado?
“Jim, aren't you gonna…? Don't you want to…?”
“Not this time, love,” he cuts in. “Like I said, don't want to hurt you.”
“You wouldn’t hurt me!” you protest.
Jim pauses, still hovering just above you. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his low voice getting a shade darker.
“Maybe not, but I do think I might break the poor bed if I let myself do everything I want to ya,” he murmurs.
“We can sleep on the floor,” you say, responding without hesitation.
Jim laughs softly, trailing his fingers over the swell of your hip. He pulls back to look at you again, blue eyes swimming with lust.
“Don't worry, love - you look so good like this, I'm not gonna be able to resist it for long. But for now…”
Jim flops down onto the rickety bed, pulling you with him to rest on his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath makes you feel calm, soothing you all the way down from your high. Jim brings a hand up to cradle your neck, pressing you into him just a bit more so that he can lean down to kiss your forehead.
As you lay there together, your eyes flutter closed.
“Jim?”
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” he scoffs.
Same playful Jim that you first fell for, weeks ago now. You can't help but smile, and snuggle up a bit closer.
“For always being here for me,” you answer.
“Of course, love.” Jim's breaths are slowing down now, lulling you into the same sleep that he's quickly falling into. “Any time.”
You kiss him, lips pressing into his bare chest, and Jim’s arms squeeze you tightly. As the sunlight streams in through the dusty windows, blanketing both of you in its warmth, you realize just how lucky you are. You press an ear against his chest, listening to the thrum of Jim’s heartbeat.
#jim 28 days later#jim 28 days later x reader#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy smut#28 days later smut#jim 28 days later smut#LemmyFics
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Imagine the continue of your latest family formation where reader has high fever and starts crying in her sleep because she's seeing satoru get killed by toji again
The kids getting worried aick because "when did gojo die?!"
And satoru not knowing how it still haunted you even after so many years
A/N: I’m sorry this took so long!! I wanted to think it through but I hope u like it bc I loved writing it!!
CW: hints at ptsd, mentions of blood and canon typical violence and sickness, angst but not really? Soft soft soft soft
Family Formations • Kind
You were tossing and turning in your sleep, fever from the flu still wreaking havoc on your body. Satoru was worried, but luckily, he had Shoko on speed dial – and she would never let anything happen to her precious best friend. You had kicked the sheets off long ago, and the mumbling had started rather funny.
“Satoru you can’t take home a seal from the beach.”
“Megumi let go of Satoru’s hair.”
“Get that stick outta your ass Nanami – you used to smoke blunts on the school roof.”
He was loving it; it was like a free stand-up show!
But then, you started to whimper. He had fallen asleep, and it took some time to rouse him from his slumber but what woke him up was you sobbing in your sleep.
“Please no, please don’t take him from me. Please, not him. Not again. I can’t watch ‘Toru die again, please god NO NO NO NO!” At this point he was kissing your head, whispering your name to wake you from the fever dream, tears in his own eyes because he knew what you were dreaming of.
You gasp awake and bolt upright, wrapping your arms around him.
You stay sobbing in his arms as he consoles you.
“It’s okay, Princess - I’m here. It was just a dream, I’m safe, you’re safe, and the kids are safe. Nothing gonna happen again, okay? He’s gone. Nothing can take me from you again.”
You had been there; you had seen the father of the kid in the next room over. You had heard the burst of the blade through your love’s pale throat, the ivory skin turning crimson red in an instant as he gasped and choked. He had died in your arms. You had screamed and cried and managed to lodge a vine through the shoulder of the man who had done.
But he was here. He fought his way back to you.
You ran your shaking hands over his face and torso – as if checking for injuries.
“I saw it all again, he came back. He had you and he did it again and I couldn’t move and then you were dead again.” You sobbed into his shoulder. He hated seeing you this way, he still had nightmares of the day himself – sometimes the true events, sometimes reversed.
As your breathing steadied, he unwrapped himself from you.
“I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, okay? I’ll be right back.”
You nodded, sniffing into your Kurama plush.
Satoru opened the door to your room.
And he wasn’t prepared for two wide eyes faces on the other side looking up at him.
“Shit.” He spoke. He knew they’d heard, they’re faces told the whole story.
“You died, papa?” Tsumiki whispered.
Your head perked up at the voice.
“Shit.” You agree.
Megumi’s wide eyes and uneasy stance mirror his sisters.
There was no avoiding this conversation, even at 2am.
Satoru looks at you, you echo his panicked look. Fuck, you two are only 21! How do you explain all this.
“C’mere, come sit on the bed for a minute.” You were past the infectious stage now, so it didn’t matter if they got close. They did as say. Tsumiki crawling up to sit facing you and Megumi dragging his frog plush up to sit beside you. Satoru takes his own side of the bed.
“I’m sorry you guys heard that. I was having a really bad dream which made me feel a bit scared.” You pet their little heads.
“Did you really die?” Megumi pipes up, eyes focused on Satoru.
“Yeah, kid. A long time ago. I got pretty badly hurt and I died for a minute, but I used my technique to bring myself back.” He softly says, and these are the moments that you realise how great a father he really is.
“How did you get hurt?” Tsumiki asks, quietly.
You lock eyes with your boyfriend. They’re too young for the truth right now.
“He got hurt trying to keep a little girl safe.” You add.
They’re silent for a minute.
“Who hurt you?” Megumi asked.
“A really, really strong man. I wasn’t as strong as I am now – and I was tired.” Satoru adds.
Another bout of silence.
“Will the man come back?” Megumi asks again. At this point, there’s fresh tears on your cheeks.
“No, baby. He’s never coming back.” You pet the boy's hair. You’re not going to tell him the man in question was his father, 8 years old is too young for the truth.
“How can, you be sure?” Tsumiki’s voice wavers, and she moves closer to Satoru. She’s worried, you can’t appease her worries by just saying he went away, a grain of truth will do.
“Because he died, sweetheart. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
“Are you sure he died? Because Satoru died but he came back.” Megumi questions, ever too smart for his age.
“Hey! I’m unique little man, only the strongest can do that.” He winks, but humour won’t work now.
“We’re sure he died honey.” You nod at the boy.
“How are you sure?” Tsumiki interjects, Jesus you’re getting the fifth degree here at 2am.
You both quiet for a second.
“Because I’m the one who did it, ‘Miki.” He grasped her little hand.
Funnily, that seems to ease both their worries. What these kids have been through, it astounds you – not that you or Satoru had it any easier.
However, it’s a testament to their trust in you both. They know that Satoru would kill for them, and you would too. They feel safest when you two are the ones handling the issues, because they will forever be safe with you both.
“And it makes you sad, because you were there Mama?” Tsumiki asks, petting your hair, as if she’s the one to comfort you.
“I was, angel. I was very scared, and sometimes when bad things happen your brain remembers them, and that’s why sometimes we have nightmares.”
“Were you hurt?” Megumi asks.
“No honey, I was just very scared and very sad. You see, I love Satoru so much that I felt like I was dying too, because of how much my heart hurt. Him and I are made of the same star, and that’s why we love each other so much. So sometimes I get bad dreams of it happening – but I promise you both. We’re all safe now.” You pull all three of them into you, whispering ‘I love you’ to Satoru.
After a minute of family hugging, Satoru leaps up.
“I’ll be right back, 4 cups of hot chocolate with extra cream for Tsumiki, extra cinnamon for Megumi, extra marshmallows for my princess and extra sugar for me!” He does a silly walk out the door to make the kids laugh – well, Tsumiki laughs, Megumi rolls his eyes.
They snuggle in between your pillow and Satoru’s.
“Does everyone get someone made of the same star, mama?” Megumi asks.
You smile at him.
“Some people get lots of people, some people get friends, some get boyfriends or girlfriends. There’s matches out there for everyone, in all ways. Some people know them forever, some people only meet when they’re really old. Your papa and I were lucky to reunite when we were so young.” You muse.
“I hope mine is a Prince, or a handsome King!” Tsumiki says.
“You’d make a great Queen, ‘Miki.” You giggle with her.
“I hope mine is kind.” Megumi quietly muses. Your sweet soft boy, so much more sensitive than he pretends.
The other half of your star walks back in at that moment, holding a tray of mugs – steaming and overflowing with cocoa.
You all curl up in your California King Bed that night, you and Satoru holding hands over the heads of the kids between you – Tsumiki by Satoru, and Megumi by you. You lock eyes and smile as they both fall asleep.
“Goodnight, Princess.”
“Goodnight, ‘Toru.”
7 years later, Megumi’s other half of his star came barrelling into his life, all smiles and pink hair and chaos – but as he had hoped, completely and utterly kind.
Recommended Listening:
Matilda - Harry Styles
#jjk#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#anime#dad!gojo#family formations extras#family formations drabbles
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you know you never stood a chance - chapter four
you know you never stood a chance series
four: beg me to take care of things
qz!Joel Miller x f!reader
series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
Word Count: 2.2k
Summary: You continue your free use arrangement with Joel in exchange for shelter, but it hits a little snag.
Warnings: qz life comes with its own warning, dub-con due to power imbalance, trading sex for shelter, free use, vaginal sex, anal play, oral sex (m&f receiving), canon-typical violence, whoops there's more plot, Joel is mean/bad at feelings, no y/n, despite what it looks like this is NOT going to follow canon
also on ao3
“Not a fucking sound,” he whispers, stifling your moan with his hand. Ellie is asleep in the next room over, but the glass of the door between you is broken. It’s the only reason he feels comfortable leaving her in that room: the sole entrance is in his line of sight.
He’s got you pinned to the grimy tile, his whole weight atop you as he fucks into your cunt. You can’t make a sound if you wanted; you can hardly draw a breath. He’s not a small man by any means. But it feels so fucking good.
It’s been weeks. Ever since you got roped into this mission, ever since you left the QZ, he hadn’t touched you once.
It hurts in the best way, though just a little past the point of pleasure. There wasn't the time for prep. But your whole body is tingling just from finally having his hands back on you, his thick cock inside you, feeling like more than just a burden.
Each slap of his hips against you is a rebirth. In the six months before you started on this horrible trek, you had known very little outside of Joel’s touch. You went to work each morning, collected rations, and came home. He’d come home an hour later, always on edge, always looking for an outlet.
For six months, you had been little more than Joel Miller’s live-in fucktoy, and honestly, it was probably the best six months of your life since the outbreak. You wanted for nothing (at least in the realities of post-apocalyptic life—in the grander scheme of things, you wouldn’t have said no to some fucking McDonald’s french fries). You had protection. You had shelter. You had company.
Well. Okay. You sort of had company. You could count on him to speak at least a few words in the evening. He almost always made sure you came, too. It had been hard at first, relying on him, but there was no use for a martyr complex these days. The only one who’d suffer by turning down assistance was, well, you.
He doesn’t make sure you cum, this time, but you think he can tell you don’t need any help. The relief of having him inside you is enough, and you can’t spare the energy to be embarrassed about it.
After he pulls out, having covered your ass in his cum, he stands up immediately, knees cracking. He tucks himself away and nudges you with the toe of his boot. “Up, get dressed.”
You scramble up, tugging your pants back into place, and watch him for a moment. His jaw is ticking, and he’s scowling at the wall behind you.
You open your mouth, and he cuts you off. “Shouldn’t have done that. Not gonna happen again.”
You’re aghast. “What?”
“Wasn’t fair of me. Y’don’t owe me anythin’ out here.”
You take a hesitant step closer. His jaw twitches again, but he doesn’t move (or look at you). “You’re still protecting me,” you offer.
“I made you come out here. Kinda have to protect you.”
“You don’t, though,” you say, feeling emboldened enough to slide your hand up his arm to his bicep.
He knocks your arm away and grabs you by the chin. “Why’d you even come? You just do whatever I say, even stupid shit?”
“Well, yeah. Didn't really have a better offer.”
“Christ.” He drops his hand from you and wipes it down his face.
“How ‘bout you get some sleep?” you say warily. The bags under his eyes are deeper and darker than ever. “I can keep watch.”
“You learn how to shoot a gun when I was takin’ a piss earlier?”
“No, but I can still keep watch. I can wake you up if anything happens.”
You’re shocked when he seems to actually consider it. It’s the safest you’ve been in weeks, here in this abandoned high-rise. There are no signs of Infected or hunters.
“Fine.” He grunts. “But you wake me if there’s any sound. I don’t care if you think it’s a rat or the wind. You fuckin’ wake me, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” you joke. Something darkens behind his eyes just for a moment, until he blinks it away. You file that away for later.
He hands you a pistol and a knife, just in case. Not that you’ll know what to do with either, but he can’t just leave you unarmed. You nod, understanding passing between you.
He sucks on his front teeth, staring at you for a moment like he wants to say something. You’re not sure you want to hear it, though, so you say, “Goodnight, Joel.”
Nothing happens. You stand, leaning against the door frame, Joel’s pistol in your hands. Despite his paranoia, there’s not even a squeak out of place, and he sleeps for four full hours before getting up. He moves more nimbly than he has since, well. Since Tess.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious to know what was between them. She had, after all, seemed very aware of what function you served to Joel, but there was no jealousy in her eyes. Maybe when he fucked her, it was like making love, and she was fine to leave all the rough, angry moments for you to absorb.
Or maybe it was nothing. It hardly mattered, and she was nice to you, so you respected her memory by leaving it alone.
Though you do wonder if that’s why he wouldn’t touch you anymore.
Dawn hasn’t broken, and Ellie is still asleep. When he comes out to check on you, you offer the only other comfort you can.
When you sink to your knees, he closes his eyes for just a moment and sighs. “Yeah, okay,” he says. His body had worked ahead of his brain, already undoing the button on his jeans, and he lets you ease him into the morning.
After, when he helps you stand, he holds you against him for a moment, and even presses a kiss into your hair almost absentmindedly. You figure maybe he’s forgotten his promise that it would never happen again.
And he does, for a little while.
When you first moved into his apartment, it was so incredibly awkward. Like, worse than a school dance awkward. Worse than walking in on your sister getting railed by some scrawny FEDRA officer awkward.
Eventually, you tracked his habits and rhythms and used the information to stay out of his way. You stopped wearing underwear when you were home, as it ended up on the floor anyway. After a while, he just started leaving you a couple of his shirts, and you gave up on sweatpants entirely.
You’d be lying if you said you were uncomfortable, and he tended to leave the shirt on you when he fucked you, so there was no need for dressing and undressing.
He left first in the morning and came home last, so the key quickly became your responsibility. He had shoved it into your hand the second evening.
“I’m leavin’ for a couple days. Lock the apartment. Don’t talk to anyone, and don’t tell anyone I’m gone.”
Before he left that evening, he ordered you to your knees and fucked your throat, wiping away the tears after he finished. “Be good,” he said, dragging his knuckles down your cheek.
And then he was gone. You locked the door behind him and sat on the dingy carpet, legs folded pretzel-style. The yellow fluorescent bulb overhead had a faint pulse to it, a barely-there dimming and brightening that started to hurt your eyes. What the fuck were you supposed to do here, in this flat you were haunting?
You didn’t dare look around. You ate the rations you had earned and left everything else alone. You knew there were pills, guns, and alcohol somewhere. You weren’t keen on learning where, though. Plausible deniability and all that.
Joel came home in the middle of the night three days later. The key issue became apparent when he had to pound on the door until you woke up to let him in.
“New plan,” he snarled when he came in. “From now on, when I’m gone, I’m lockin’ you in here until I get back.”
“Fuck no,” you said.
“The fuck did you say to me?” he said, stalking closer.
“What if you don’t come back soon enough? What if I fuckin’ run out of food?”
“You think I’d go to all this trouble to keep you safe and then let ya die in here?”
“I don’t know!” Your heart struggled to keep up with your irrational fury, and stumbled at his words. Why did he go to all this trouble? You were about to ask, but of course, he ruined it.
“What good’s your pussy to me then, huh?” He was chest-to-chest with you, towering with a venomous glare.
“I don’t know, Miller, you’re kind of a creep. Maybe you’re into that.”
“I’m a creep, huh? Then why are you so wet?”
You flushed, heat crawling across your cheeks and ears. “Who says I’m wet?”
It was the wrong thing to say. He pinned you against the door and shoved your pants down, plunging three fingers right into your cunt. You yelped at the stretch and pinch, but had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, as he brought them up to your face, coated in slick.
“Looks pretty wet to me,” he said, the words rumbling from somewhere deep and dark within. “Open.”
You did. God help you, you did. He smirked and pressed his fingers in, wiping them on your tongue.
“Suck,” he murmured.
You closed your lips around him and sucked until your cheeks hollowed around them, saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth. He pulled his fingers out and patted your cheek with the same hand, leaving a wet trail behind.
“Go get on the fuckin’ bed.”
"Which bed is the fucking bed?" you said before you could control yourself, and darted into his room before he could register your words.
You were hardly in position when his hands gripped the sides of your hips, and he licked into your cunt. “Fuckin’ slut, trying to say ya weren’t wet and waitin’ for me,” he grumbled, and nipped at your thigh before diving back in.
Your orgasm came embarrassingly quickly. His derisive chuckle brushed against your clit, which he sucked at until you were spent.
“Seems like ya missed me,” he said, standing and wasting no time before stuffing his cock in. “Well? Did ya?”
You didn’t answer, whining into the sheets as he set a slow but harsh pace, slamming in only to draw back out inch by inch.
He slapped your ass, watching it ripple. “Don’t be rude, sweetheart.”
“Oh, were you gone?” you huffed between thrusts.
He brought his hand down again. “What did I just fuckin’ say?”
“Y’know, come to think of it,” you couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t shut up, “there was a distinct lack of grouchy old creeps hanging around.”
He grabbed your hair and craned your neck back so you could see the way his eyes were blown dark, teeth bared. “Watch yourself, sweetheart. I’ve had a real bad couple of days. Here I thought I was comin’ home to a sweet cunt.”
You opened your mouth, though you didn’t feel a retort dancing on your tongue. You figured by the time you came up with it, you’d have already said it.
He didn’t give you the chance. His other hand came up, and he hooked two fingers into your cheek. The hand in your hair released to dip into your mouth, swiping his thumb through the pooling saliva. He dragged it down and pressed the wet thumb into the cleft of your ass, firm pressure against your tight hole.
You were breathing heavily around his fingers, back arched. He didn’t stop fucking into you, hissing as you clamped down when his thumb pushed in, just enough to make you feel the pressure.
“Awfully quiet now,” he drawled. “You just needed all your holes filled, huh?”
You thought you might die from the humiliation, if only the pleasure didn’t take you first. You squirmed, pushing back into him.
He jostled your head by pinching the fingers in your mouth and shaking your cheek. “You gonna be quiet if I take these out?”
You nodded. He withdrew the fingers and brought the hand down to your hip, holding you steady so he could chase his orgasm. Each rough thrust knocked a quiet cry from your lips, and he pulled away from your asshole to tangle his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back again.
The kiss was mostly teeth and spit, but it was euphoric. He felt the way you tightened and tensed, and he smiled against your lips. “Cum for me,” he said, and licked into your mouth to gobble up your scream.
When you convulsed on his cock, he lost control, and almost didn’t pull out in time. He spilled against the bed, swearing deep and low.
That memory and the many others get you through the lonely nights on the journey, your hand down your pants and gasps muffled around your fist when you can catch a moment alone. If Joel notices, he doesn’t show it. Except tonight, when you look back on it, you realize he was only making good on his promise not to let you rot in his apartment. Whatever delusions you had about being brought along get left behind in the shitty high rise.
next chapter
*title from "Send the Pain Below" by Chevelle.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#qz!joel miller#the last of us fic#the last of us smut#the last of us spoilers#sort of
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Not Like This
din djarin x female!reader
warnings: angst, angst, angst, angst. if you're looking to feel better after chapter 23 this is not gonna do it. canon violence, mentions of blood and injury, threats of death.
word count: 1,368
summary: chapter 23 of the mandalorian happened, and you had a front row seat.
SPOILERS BELOW THIS CUT.
.
"when i can't sleep at night⏤ i stare at the empty side of my bed, and wonder about the things i would tell you, if you were lying next to me." ⏤A.S.
.
Not like this. Not like this. Not like this. Your heart was racing in your chest, and with every painful beat the words echoed through your skull. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The fingers wrapped around the back of your neck squeezed hard enough that you knew there would be bruises left in their wake⏤ you could feel his nails digging into your flesh⏤ but the pain wasn’t registering. Not yet. Not when fear and panic suffocated you in a haze the way it did. All you could feel was the heavy weight of Din’s gaze under his helmet. He was reassuring you. Din was restricted in whip cords, brought down to his knees by Imperials, weapons carelessly cast aside, and he was reassuring you in the familiar comfort of Mando’a.
It’s going to be okay, cyar'ika.
No. No, it wasn’t. Moff Gideon’s laugh in your ear told you it wasn’t.
Don’t cry. We'll get out of this.
Were you crying? You couldn’t even tell⏤ you were numb and frozen in shock. This couldn’t be happening.
You’re going to fine. I swear it, cyar'ika. I won’t let them hurt you.
You didn’t care. Your own safety was dangerously low on your list of priorities. If it meant Din got to walk away safely you’d do anything. Literally anything.
Listen to him. It’s alright. Just do it. He’s going to hurt you if you don’t.
No. You couldn’t. Not like this. Din and you had been side by side for years now. Partners in every aspect. It started with bounty hunting. Then, when Grogu came into the picture it turned into running from the Empire. Searching for the child’s home. The nature of your jobs continued to change and alter, but the love between you both had never faltered. It grew and grew and grew until it could be contained no longer. For three years you had been his partner in crime, but only for the last six months had you been his lover.
“Take his helmet off. Now.” Moff Gideon growled low in your ear. Seething in rage at how long this was taking, but not enough to just walk away or do it himself. The bastard knew the weight of this and you knew it was why he wanted you to be the one to break Din’s creed in such a violent manner.
You shook your head again⏤ hands curled into tight fists at your side. No one took the Creed more seriously than Din, but you were a close second. It became a habit for you, living with him, and keeping your eyes away from him in moments when he needed to shed the helmet. Even when he removed it for Grogu, you averted your gaze. Din asked once why you hadn’t just looked when you had a chance, and you told him it was because you respected his beliefs and you wanted to do it right.
And, Din said you would. He swore that when the fight was done, when he finished helping Bo Katan reclaim Mandalore, all three of you would settle. Din would find a safe place for you, him, and Grogu. A place where you could share vows then remove his helmet, creed intact. Somewhere quiet and warm. Somewhere he didn’t have to wear an ounce of beskar on his skin and you could spend the entire night memorizing every detail of him. You had spent countless nights dreaming of that soft moment to come.
Not like this. Not like this. Not like this.
Moff Gideon, impatient and eager for his enemies’ downfall, lifted his hand from the back of your neck to tangle in your hair then he yanked your head back. A cry of pain tore through you as Din lashed out in anger⏤ trying to loosen the Imperials’ hold.
“Take his helmet off or I slit his throat and let his blood pool at your feet.”
He shoved you forward, hand falling away from you, and a sob left your lips. Trembling violently, your hands reached out to settle on either side of the silver beskar helmet you associated with adoration. You loved this man, yet here you were about to forcefully tear a piece of him away.
“It’s alright.” Din whispered. His hoarse, modulated voice making you cry harder. “Do it. It’s not your fault. I want you to do this.” Your bottom lip quivered and you bit down on it hard enough to draw blood. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika.”
With a sharp breath, you lifted his helmet and squeezed your eyes shut. Maybe he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t looking. Moff Gideon could make you break Din’s creed, and maybe keeping your eyes shut now was more a nuance than anything else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Even when the logical voice at the back of your mind told you that Din could redeem himself once more⏤ if the two of you just got out of this alive it would be alright⏤ you couldn’t do it. Redemption or not, this moment would be gone. You couldn’t unsee his face. An Imperial barked out a sound, and Moff Gideon’s hands were on you once more.
“Don’t touch her!” Din yelled.
Moff Gideon strangled you now, his hand wrapped around the front tight enough to steal your breath, “One last choice, you stupid, stubborn girl. Open your eyes and look at the once Mandalorian or I’ll make sure you never see anything again.”
“Look at me. Look at me!” Din roared, you could hear him struggling against his captors again. “Cyar’ika, please. Please look at me.” He pleaded⏤ begged. “Open your eyes for me, please.”
Broken at the anguish in his voice, you opened your eyes and Moff Gideon made sure you faced your Mandalorian. And, there he was. The man you loved. Sweat made strands of his brown hair cling to his forehead while the rest sat a mess on top of his head from where you pulled his helmet off. Scruff along his jaw that you had felt, but never seen. And his eyes⏤ Din’s eyes were the softest shade of brown and the emotions that swirled in his gaze was enough to knock the wind from you. Panic, fear, anger, anguish, but there was also love. So much love and adoration that it made another sob slip from your lips. You wanted to touch him⏤ to tell him how beautiful he was while your fingers traced every line of his face.
Your hand lifted to him, but you were suddenly yanked back so he was just out of reach.
“Take him to the debriefing room.” Moff Gideon commanded and the Imperials began to drag him away. You screamed out to Din, trying to lunge toward him, but Moff Gideon kept a tight grip on your arm locking you in place. In all your focus on watching Din get dragged away, you hadn’t noticed a weapon being drawn⏤ not until the vibroblade pierced your side.
“No!” Din’s scream seemed to rattle the room. You collapsed and clutched your side to try and stem the bleeding that would not stop. It gushed through your fingers painting your clothes and the floor red. Din was thrashing in the arms of the Imperials who carried him off and the last look on Din’s face that you got to see was blinding rage. Then he was out of sight.
You laid your head on the ground⏤ eyes growing heavy. Moff Gideon was addressing the other Mandalorians trapped behind the doors, but sound was slipping away and all you could focus on was the silver beskar helmet lying discarded on the floor beside you. The t-shape visor stared back at you almost mockingly. This was nearly how your day started. Lying on a too small cot with Din pressed to your side in full armor. Soft snores escaping from his modulator while you stared at your reflection in the visor and imagined the day you’d get to fall asleep next to him sans beskar.
Not like this. Not like this.
Blaster fire filled the air and you let your eyes drift close.
Not like this.
[next part]
#the mandalorian#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#mando x you#mando x reader#mando#mandalorian fanfic#mandalorian x you#mandalorian x reader#female reader#reader insert#angst#just all the angst#not even a smidge of comfort#canon violence#moff gideon is a dick#but he does it in style i'll give him that#the mandalorian spoilers
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Part 3!
Wild, Four and Wind!
Wild:
- Wild is the type of person that also doesn’t mind hugs or surprise hugs. He really loves it actually. Like Hyrule he makes it into a game. But instead of paying the huge tax he literally will try to sneak up on you and hug you. It’s a hunting game so good luck on winning.
- There isn’t any rule or thought that goes into this other than the first person to catch the other off guard with a hug wins. Meaning that it’s all out war everyday.
- That being said there are moments where you have the advantage to a hug.
Settling down in Hateno was nice, the boys get a break from traveling and a chance to regroup. For you it’s the domestic life you were used to and slightly missed while being on the road for so long. When you got to Wilds home it was by lunch time so Wild went to straight to cooking while the other boys explore or just unpack for a moment. You had took a nap as you were just getting a bit tired. Though because of the battering of the pots and pans you couldn’t exactly fall completely asleep.
Peaking over the railing you watch as your boyfriend moves through the kitchen. A small plot comes to your mind as while yes by the end of it you’re gonna be roped into cooking with him. That doesn’t really deter you from doing it. Slowly and as quiet as possible you roll off the bed and move down the stairs. Ignoring the looks from the other links as they notice you moving towards the cook. You do have to wait for him to put down the knife before you pounce on him.
“Gotcha!” You rest your chin on his shoulder as your arms trapped him.
Wild had stiffed up as he genuinely was spacing out and didn’t hear you coming. But he smiles and tries to hug you back “I am still in the lead!”
“By like 3 points.” You poke his cheek keeping yourself clinging on him. He kissed your cheek and continues on cooking not even phase about the extra weight. Using this to your advantage you nuzzled into his crook of his neck. This was incredible hard for him to move around which was funny to watch as he slightly struggled. “Do you want me to help?” You asked.
“Please?” You think about it for a minute before pulling away from him reluctantly with a dramatic sigh.
“Fiiiiine.”
Four:
- Small spoon. Wait this isn’t cuddle head canons. Four is fine with hugs, honestly give or take really. You gotta remember Vio and Blue probably don’t care or want hugs, while Green and Red actually like hugs and would welcome it!
- In general he wouldn’t want surprise hugs he doesn’t particularly like it as he is probably one of the boys that don’t like PDA in front of others. If you do it in private thats fine. He just wants to not be teased by others tbh the guy is a bit self conscious.
- You do have conditions to surprise hugs as surprise hugs in the foraged is a huge no. He doesn’t want you to get hurt while he is holding hot sharp objects.
Four hasn’t seen you in a while which was normal the two of you aren’t always near each other. However he was suspicious at this point. It was too quiet for you to not be up to something at this point. It’s worrying.
Very worrying.
He heads inside as he goes to find you very much concerned with what was happening. He first checks the living room and kitchen first before going up stairs.
“Huh…” Well Four went upstairs to look in the bedrooms for you and they were empty. He was starting to think he was just going crazy. Walking down stairs he was going to head out again before, he heard small giggling before getting lifted. “ACK.”
“Hello Darling!” You were giggling as you hugged him while lifting him up. “I missed you!”
“So you hide from me?!” Four struggles to get out of your grasp but like a cat he was stuck with getting attack by your love.
“Yes <3”
Wind:
- My son is an older brother. He is no stranger to hugs and honestly is the person that does it the most out of all the chain. Wind is super family oriented and knows that some of the others don’t exactly know what having family is like. So he is taking the mantle of the annoying little sibling.
- It’s honestly nice to get surprised by one of his hugs because even though he literally calls out when approaching you really only have like a millisecond to respond before getting tackled down.
- However there is one person in the timeline that can fully catch him off guard because she loves her brother so much.
Being back at Outset Island was fun. It was a small island yes, so that means not much room for being alone to relax. But thats fine as it was still a time to rest and relax. Wind just wanted to be with his Grandma and Sister. He already leaves often to travel the world with Tetra, he doesn’t need more time away from them. That being said he does have homesickness which this is helping a lot.
He was going around saying his hello’s to everyone on the island but was missing his sister. Which automatically brought about a little anxiety as he continues down the bridge back home. Trying to think of all the places she could be hiding. He did crawl under the house as he had to get somethings down into the basement.
Wind did check the forest too as Hyrule wanted to see a great fairy for reasons. The outlook was also empty. Wind stops when he gets to the beach still trying to figure this out.
“BIG BROTHER!!!!!!!!” A weight launches himself at his back. Then another one joins in. Wind manages to wiggle and turn to see both you and Aryll laughing at him. “Welcome back!” His sister said still giggling.
Wind huffs but smiles and reaches up to mess with her hair. Aryll lets out a squeal but couldn’t escape it as Wind brings her to a hug. “To be fair it was her idea.” You said laughing before Wind drags you in the hug too.
#twilight (not lu) speaks#linked universe x reader#linkeduniverse x reader#london fog tea#luxreader#lemond aid#fruit cake#honey baked apple
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Lovers' Crest | Chapter 14: The Sight
Din Djarin x f!Reader
Masterlist
Summary: Din has a reckoning you would have never seen coming. What it means for the two of you, well… that comes next.
Word count: 4.3k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, SMUT: oral sex (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), unprotected PiV (be safe), use of a blindfold, Mandalorian lore NONSENSE.
A/N: Not gonna lie to you, I kind of adore this chapter. Hope you enjoy it. Thanks for being here!
--
‘You’re furious.’
‘I’m not furious.’
‘You feel betrayed?’
‘No.’
‘You’re punishing me for all that, aren’t you?’
‘No!’
‘Then what the hells is going on, Din?’ You plant your hands on your hips and square your feet on the floor. Two days of this, this sullen and twitchy man aboard your ship, laconic and lowly in attitude and stance. Spending most of his time holed up in the cockpit, looking at his datapad with a savage intensity.
You believe he’s tried, really tried to push past it. You’d talked about the trap Torre had set and agreed no one was at fault. You’d gone over each detail and reassured him that you’d had your end goal in mind early on.
He’d spent maybe a half an hour earlier this morning talking with you about your plans to upgrade the manoeuvring valves. But when you’d put a hand on his arm and moved like to loop it around your middle, as you always did, he tugged it back and told you to just tell him how much it would cost him before stomping off.
And that damn well hurt. So you figured it was best to just dive into the issue before you break down in a fit of tears.
Now you’re facing his back as he pretends to adjust an oscillation rifle on its holdings. Nervousness and apprehension cascades off his shoulders.
‘None of it was true,’ you say again. ‘You believe that right? It was all lies.’
A beat. The longest of your life.
‘One thing was true,’ he says, back still to you.
Unbelievable.
‘No--’
He drops his shoulders and tilts his head back, sighing hard.
‘Torre said it actually,’ he says. He moves with his usual swiftness and raises his forearms to cage you against the ration crates, still that same agitated energy radiating off his armour. You swallow. ‘And I recall every word of it.’
‘What—’ you start, but he puts a hand against your chest, slowly pushes it towards your collarbone and snakes his fingers across the top of your shoulder, holding you still as he leans into your other ear.
You swear you feel his breath on your earlobe. But you know that’s impossible through the helmet.
‘He said,’ Din says in a ragged voice, ‘“You know he can’t give you the kind of pleasure that I can. You know he just can’t do it”…’
You remember now. But unlike when Torre was on his knees in front of you, this isn’t making your skin crawl off your body. It’s doing the opposite – you feel tight everywhere and your breath is stuck in your lungs. Goosebumps erupt from your scalp and careen down your body until your toes are singing and your centre starts pulsing.
‘He said,’ Din continues. You now know what he’s going to say and your eyes roll back to listen. ‘“He hasn’t even kissed you, has he? He hasn’t tasted you, laid you out with his mouth and tongue to lave at your cunt until you’re screaming in bliss. Not like I did, remember? Remember how much you needed it?”’
Din leans forward, pressing the forehead of his helm into the hard surface behind you. ‘I haven’t done that for you, have I? Haven’t given you what you need. Brought you to the edge and let you fall while drinking down your release? Pleasured you in every single way imaginable?’
You’re boneless against the wall, imagining the mouth uttering those words doing just that. But you summon enough brain power to speak.
‘It’s okay,’ you say. ‘It’s—I decided already that I’m okay with not having that. That, that I don’t—’
He murmurs your name as if to interrupt.
‘That I don’t n-need it,’ you push on. ‘I only need—’
He’s leaning away, moving his hand from your shoulder to drop to his side. You grab for it. You hold it tight and make yourself look into his visor. Despite all your fears, despite your terror at what the future holds, you stare pleadingly at him and tell the truth.
‘I swear I only need you.’
Gently, so devastatingly gently, he pulls his hand from your grasp and steps back.
‘That is not enough, I’m afraid.’ He spins on the spot and heads to the rear of the cargo hold.
What does that mean? Your mind is reeling in two entirely different directions. This is it; he’s going to leave you now. Is he going to take off his helmet? He’s dropping you at the next port because now he knows your secret desire and it sickens him. He’s going to do it to you because now he knows what you truly want. You don’t respect his creed and he knows it now so he hates you. He’s going to let you see his face!
Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
Both spirals of thought threaten to shred your sanity and you stumble backwards, no longer registering what he’s doing – rummaging through a crate you think. But he’s back in front of you a moment later.
‘Hey, breathe. Just breathe for me, please?’ He cups your face; his right palm lays flat against your cheek while his left hand is held in a fist. He’s clenching something tightly, but stroking his thumb slowly along your jaw. You try to relax. Try to focus on the fact he wouldn’t be touching you so tenderly if it was all over. The next thing he says though leaves you lost.
‘I have been studying,’ he says.
You blink stupidly. ‘Huh?’
‘Reading. The texts of the Creed. I have been reading them closely.’
‘Oh.’
‘I have… removed my helmet, in the past. And I thought it would cost me everything. So… I have been afraid.’
You have no idea what he’s talking about. He’s removed his helmet? When?
‘But I am not afraid now,’ he whispers.
You say the only thing you can say, ‘Why?’
Silence.
‘Why, Din?’ You’re nearing desperation. To understand. To know what he means. ‘Why aren’t you afraid now?’
He draws a long breath.
‘Because, I have found that, in the original Mando’a, the Creed has a specific wording that translations don’t really hold account to. It says that a Mandalorian of the Watch cannot remove their helmet to show their face to another. Or allow another to remove their helmet, lest their face be seen.’
You stay quiet.
‘Show their face, do you understand?’
You open your mouth and close it again, not daring to say a single word for fear that the hope welling inside you will be crushed to grit.
Din holds you for a few moments more, seeming to be drawing himself to a decision. Finally, finally, he nods to himself. He moves his fist from your face and holds up the object he’d been clutching.
It looks like it’s made from a similar material to his flight suit, a thick but stretchy woven fabric stitched into a loop. You gape at it.
‘It’s to hold hair out of the way under my helmet,’ he explains, somewhat needlessly. ‘I have several but not much else, so it’ll have to do for now.’
You cannot, at all, believe what is happening, so you stay still. He lifts the fabric up and circles it around the crown of your head, then spreads his fingers on either side and slowly tugs it down, down, past your forehead and over your eyes. He settles the band against the tops of your ears before withdrawing his hands. You get the slightest scent of him as it brushes the top of your nose. The wide, thick material has blinded you totally.
‘Can you see anything?’
‘No.’
‘Do you swear to me you will not look?’
‘Din, I—’
‘Please, swear it.’
‘I swear.’ The word turns to a whimper as Din loops a hand around your waist, the other goes to your hair as he starts to walk you back, step by tiny step, to the cabin.
In the small room that is mostly bed, he backs you up to a wall and pulls his hands away. You hear him pulling off his gloves, you think. It’s confirmed when you hear the soft click of his vambraces detaching, one after the other. Then it’s silent for a beat. Another. Then another. You are about to move or say something when the quiet hiss of depressurising air hits your ears. A small thump follows on the shelf next to you. And then your heart just stops.
Right next to your ear, partly covered by the blindfold, he murmurs your name. Your mouth falls open. His naked voice sends a molten tendril through you that sparks your every nerve ending. He says it again and your chest starts to heave with lust and wonder and anticipation.
‘God, Din. God.’
The next of your senses to be assaulted is touch as you feel his warm, impossibly soft lips press to your neck. Right in the spot he found you like the tips of his fingers so much, just behind your ear and down a little. He holds there, just pressing a firm warmth into your skin. A hand comes up to the other side of your face and it is trembling. You finally move and place your own hand over it, showing him that you are shaking too.
The lips part in the smallest, sweetest kiss. He whimpers sweetly before opening his lips further, laving at the soft flesh there with teeth and tongue.
‘Hhhnnnn,’ you whine. ‘Din… Din!’
‘What? What is it?’ He stays put against your neck, but sounds a little alarmed.
‘Gods please, kiss me, Din. Kiss me, now- ah!’
Without breaking connection with your skin, he drags his mouth over your jaw and up, making one small sucking motion there by your lower lip then sealing his mouth to yours. You both groan, an ecstatic release of so much longing filling the air and coursing across where you’re pressed together.
You grip either side of his chest armour and pull him closer, sucking his lower lip into your mouth and swiping your tongue across it, feeling its curve and plumb softness. You release and he does the same to you, moving his hand down to your jaw to nudge your mouth wider, begging entry. Parting your lips lets you feel his warm breath as he pants into you; he pushes forward and runs his tongue over your teeth and bites at your upper and lower lips in turn.
Damn, he’s good at this.
You stand there pressed against the side of the cabin for an age, devouring each other, before a thought so startling occurs to you that you pull back, bumping your head on the cold wall.
Din pulls right back but you hold onto him. ‘What? Are you okay?’
His voice is chocolate.
‘Din,’ you say, gasping for air. If you weren’t so overcome with lust you would probably agonise over this question. Or if you could see him you might second guess it. But it spills from your swollen lips with ease. ‘Can I touch you?’
‘You are touching me, mesh’la.’ What an adorable dolt.
‘No I mean,’ you hesitantly reach up and hover your hand where you think his hair may curl at the base of his neck. He stills. ‘Can I touch you here, and,’ you move your other hand in front of your face, where his cheek could be. ‘And here.’
You feel his breath on your hand. You hear his mouth move open and close. His hand comes to the back of the one you’re holding between the two of you and laces your fingers together. You’re trembling.
‘Please, mesh’la,’ he says. He presses your hand to his face, holding it flush. You feel a sharp jawline, stubbly beard, a soft dusting of hair by his ear and you can’t help it, you sob.
‘Oh my fucking god,’ you hiccup and groan. You plunge your other hand into thick, curly hair and crash your mouth back to his. Teeth drag together for a moment before he moves to the side and mouths and nips at your jawline, moving back to the spot on your neck you love touched so much.
He takes hold of your hips and spins you to the bed, pushing you to lay yourself back.
‘Undress yourself, love,’ he tells you. Your top half is bare in seconds, careful to make sure the blindfold doesn’t move. As you work on your bottoms, you hear the first clicks and rustles of Din removing his armour.
You usually love to watch him do this. The anticipation setting a fire in you so potent it’s unbelievable he doesn’t even have to touch you to do it. You settle for just listening to the motions of this ritual you share. But then he starts to speak and you fall apart as his bare, sultry vocals wash through you.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he rasps, voice grinding over your trembling body. ‘Look at you.’ You hear his movements become quicker, fumbling and desperate. ‘A gorgeous, divine, otherworldly Goddess. Fuck, every inch of you is perfect. Unh, uh, sweet Gods, I swear. I swear to you.’
You feel a weight drop at the end of the bed; he’s removing his boots.
‘I swear to you,’ you feel a hand wrap around one of your ankles and you whine. You can hear his inhales and exhales. He’s breathing so hard, gulping air like he’s trying not to drown. You feel your own self gasping as well. He stands again; you hear the zips and tears of his flight suit as he strips.
‘I swear to you, love. Mesh’la.’ He’s stopped moving. He must just be standing over you. Looking. Then, in a voice you feel right in your fucking clit. ‘Gonna give you what you deserve now, love. What you crave.’
You shudder, writhing and squirming without restraint.
‘Gonna find out just what you like, exactly how you like it. Everything, gonna learn everything and give it to you over and over. What do you like, hm? My mouth? Pressed against your aching pussy and tongue fucking you fast? My lips? Sucking on that hungry, hungry clit? Would you like my circling tongue working at you? Or long, luscious licks from the bottom of your slit to the top of your mound?
‘Do you like it slow? Rough? Would you like to be bitten, have your pussy’s lips held between my teeth, so tender and delicious? What would you like? Tell me.’
You’re wrecked. You’ve died, you’re sure of it.
‘Everything, everything Din. All of it, please.’ You press your thighs together, rubbing them clumsily, desperate to relieve some of the pressure that is consuming you.
‘Stop that,’ he orders. ‘Spread them for me, beautiful. Spread them wide so I can see all of you. See you with my naked eye. Your perfect body. Your pure cunt, let me see it.’
His groan is loud and strangled as you part your knees and spread your feet to the very edges of the bed.
‘Yes, like that,’ he growls.
You don’t realise he’s even moved when a hot, open mouth presses to the inside of your thigh.
You scream.
‘Mmm, that’s it mesh’la,’ he moans, muffled against your flesh. ‘Let me hear you.’
‘I- I think you’re gonna kill me, Din Djarin,’ you huff as you bite into the crook of your elbow.
You feel him smile against your leg. It’s indescribable.
‘Not if you end me first,’ he says. Then he drags his face up, up and… off. But you can feel his breath, puffing against your oh so tender centre.
‘I’ve tasted you in my dreams,’ he whispers. ‘Finally, I will know.’
Every inch of you, every nerve ending, every muscle, every fibre of your being, your whole essence, channels down into the one pinpoint on your body where his tongue touches your dripping slit. It sinks inside of you immediately as he plants his open mouth right over you.
You arch your back and wail at the same time that Din releases a groan of ecstasy. He pushes forwards, trying to urge his tongue deeper and you can feel everything. Lips suctioning to your skin and teeth digging into your labia, his tongue exploring what his fingers already know so well.
He pulls out to mouth and lick and nip at your swollen lips, letting their plush give guide him back into you. You know you are leaking a constant stream of juices and you nearly pass out when you hear him make a deep, greedy swallow. He does it again, and again, drinking you down like you are an oasis.
He pulls back and mouths at your thigh for a moment.
‘I knew it,’ he rumbles. ‘I knew you’d taste just like this.’
He goes back in, but the throbbing of your clit is becoming unbearable. You release your hand from the blanket you’d been holding in a steel fist and reach down to palm at his hair, his temple, whining a little and trying to tug him upwards.
He chuckles against your cunt, impaling you with bolts of white-hot electric pleasure.
‘I know what you want.’ He leans into your grasping hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to give it to you.’
With no other preamble, he licks a long stripe up you, beginning under your slit – of course letting his tongue dip into it on the way – and up to the little bundle of nerves already set to shatter you apart. Soft, hot tongue connects with quivering, pulsing clit and you almost levitate off the bed. An arm reaches up and locks across your middle, binding you to the mattress. The other pushes a thigh down to grant more access.
You aren’t going to last long now. A brief dance of tight, firm circles sends you into a cascading torrent of bliss. Your climax reaches every corner of your body and you’re sure that, even if you weren’t blindfolded, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing.
He’s still licking at you when you come down and you nudge him away from your sensitive flesh. He acquiesces and settles back at his home on your thigh, hair and panting breaths tickling the soft skin there.
The hand on your other leg reaches across and two fingers scissor open your folds. They shift and prod, exploring.
‘What are you doing?’ you breathe, slowly coming back into your body.
‘Just looking, mesh’la,’ he says. ‘Want to be sure I know every part of you.’
Something about that is so erotic your hips thrust up and push yourself into his hand.
He hums with content. ‘Ready for more, already?’
You just push again, reaching both hands down now to find his head, feel his soft curls. He doesn’t make you wait, diving back in to devour you like an animal starved. He pushes the two fingers that had been holding you open straight into your tight heat and moans against your clit.
‘So good. So sweet,’ he mutters, orbiting and stroking his tongue over you.
You’re at the edge again, so quickly. Somehow he holds you there, the rise just before the breaking wave thrums from your core and seizes hold of every single muscle in your body. How is he doing this?
You plant your feet and thrust up into his face, grabbing at the back of his head for more purchase, more contact, more.
He moans and growls affirmative noises and doesn’t let up. The vibrations turn into an absolute shock wave that rips you apart. You’re gone, nothing but an exquisite cluster of light.
The feeling of the bed moving while you’re absolutely boneless brings you round again. Din is still devouring you and you think he’s pushing his hips down into the mattress, fucking himself against it. You move your feet to his ass and confirm it. You push his head from your aching centre and tug him upwards.
‘Din,’ you huff. ‘C’mere. Come up here and fuck me.’
He crawls up you with a feral intensity that sets your body aflame again. He licks and kisses at your skin on the way, teeth and mouth marking you in careless abandon. He stops at your breasts and you keen loudly as he sucks and bites at each in turn, smothering them with your juices and his spit.
With mouth still attending to a tightened nipple, he arches his back so that his cock meets your folds and slips along you. It’s a whole new sensation. The mess he’s made of you with his mouth offering a slick plane for his veiny shaft to glide along.
You both moan at the feeling.
‘Feel that?’ he whispers, sliding back and forth, coating himself. He leans up and plants his mouth back on yours. You revel in the taste of yourself on his lips and face. He mutters against your mouth, ‘Feel how soaking wet you are?’
‘Mmmmm,’ is all you can say as you move your feet back to his ass and use them to push him into you. He sinks to the hilt, then sets a pace so furious and sloppy you know he’s barely in control, almost there, ready to blow.
Din bites down hard on your lower lip then moves his mouth back to your ear, dragging tongue and teeth between it and your neck, panting with a ferocious hunger. Revelling in the sensations careening up and down your body, you flatten your legs on the bed and tilt your hips so his thrusts land right on your shivering clit. It’s a matter of moments before you’re lost in another orgasmic haze and you move to lock your ankles around his back, feeling him rushing over the edge with you.
‘Huuuh, fuh,’ he gasps. ‘Luh… Love…’ You twist your head and kiss him, swallowing his words. He pumps into you a few more times, wringing every last drop of pleasure from himself. You keep your feet linked and cradle his head and neck as he coats you with soft groans.
When he regains composure, you expect him to roll off you and wrap you in an embrace, like usual. But he rises onto hands and knees.
‘Din?’ you ask.
‘Not done,’ he rumbles. ‘Not done tasting you.’
He moves down your body, laying his mouth all over, everywhere. Feasting. Consuming. You clench your masked eyes shut and let yourself drown in him.
Time doesn’t seem to move as you both bask in a deep, simmering afterglow. At some point, Din reaches up and nudges the blindfold off. Your heart skips a beat before you register that the room is pitch black. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, let alone his.
So you just close your eyes again and focus on the feel of his breath on your forehead, where he rests his chin.
‘When do we return for Grogu?’ you ask the darkness.
‘Still a few moon turns,’ Din replies, using a measure of time you weren’t familiar with. You stay quiet until he clarifies, ‘We have time, Cyar’ika.’
‘Okay,’ you say, moving closer and holding tighter, ‘okay.’
Fucking in every corner of the Razor Crest gives you a new appreciation for the lovely, aged ship.
Up against the weapons locker, held up by Din’s arms and pierced to the cabinet by his cock. The door rattles as he slams up into you and you tremble with effort to meet every thrust with a clenching need.
On the descended ramp, the breeze of the open air lifting the sweat from your bodies as you take turns to ride each other. You sit on top and bounce ruthlessly before he rolls you over and grinds you down into the cold grating. When you climb back onto him again, he paws at the indentations created on your ass.
Bent over in the fresher, the wet suctioning of his furious pounding against your skin filling the space and taking you over the edge again and again.
And, most deliciously, in his pilot chair. The first time you’d done that, the Crest was sailing through hyperspace, the tranquillity of its vastness doing nothing to slake the lust crackling in the cockpit. He’d pulled you onto his lap, back flush against his chest, and taken you apart with his hands. They roamed everywhere then massaged and kneaded your tits, pinching and squeezing your nipples until they were tight peaks shooting sparks of pleasure to your clit.
When he’d finally moved his ministrations downwards, he’d plunged the fingers of one hand deep inside you and set the others up in the perfect pattern on your hard nub. Once he’d had you writhing and moaning his name, climax after climax filling the air, you’d sat forward to brace your hands on the instrument panel. You’d given him a real show of your ass before sinking down onto his cock, which was right there eagerly waiting.
Sometimes you’re blindfolded, and he drinks down your pleasure as if it were the last drops of nourishment in the galaxy – he even tastes you when your pleasures are mixed together, licking you down right after filling you up. Sometimes he keeps the helmet on, so you can watch his gorgeous muscles flex and strain as you chase new heights each time.
You and Din take each other in every way you can imagine.
You weren’t sure what exactly was driving his need to have you over and over again. But for you, the feeling that time was running out had set an unbearable appetite within you. And you were determined to get every last morsel you possibly could.
--
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#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#din djarin smut#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian#din djarin#din djarin/reader#din djarin/you#the mandaloria/reader#din djarin x f!reader#the mandalorian x f!reader
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no evil angel but love - series masterlist
Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader
Summary: After winning the ninth annual Hunger Games, Y/N L/N returns home to District 10 with a promise: that she may live the rest of her life in peace. One year later, Treech Elmore is granted the same immunity following his victory in the tenth Games. So what happens when that promise is a lie?
With the eleventh annual Hunger Games quickly approaching, the Capitol sets out to make its biggest changes yet, starting with the mentorship system.
General Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Use of Weapons, Mention of Injuries, Character Death, Liberal Use of Both Book and Movie Canon. (Warnings will vary from update to update.)
chapter 1: nothing's new | word count: 6.5k
“You’re evil.” And it is not a question. You are certain.
“Not evil, just practical.”
chapter 2: vampire empire | word count: 7.1k
“You really shouldn’t tell people so much.” And it hurts to say. It burns like hot guilt in his chest, but he knows it is right.
“Why? You gonna spill all my secrets to the Capitol, pretty boy?”
chapter 3: oh, children | word count: 7.6k
“You never answered my last letter.”
“I–” he begins, but then seems to think better of what he was going to say, instead clearing his throat before continuing. “I must have forgotten.”
chapter 4: i bet on losing dogs | word count: 6.2k
3. Something moves in the water. Something large.
2. The boy from 8 steps off his platform a split second too early. It blows. To his left, Bee brings both hands up to shield her face, sinking away in panic. Her heel nearly slips, and you feel like throwing up.
1. The room is silent. Dead silent. On the screen, the tributes begin to run.
chapter 5: killer | word count: 9.3k
You can hardly imagine a world where, upon being faced with you, the Capitol citizens can manage anything other than sheer horror. Still, if some party is all that’s standing between you and returning home, you’ll find a way to get through it, even if you have to grit your teeth and bite your tongue until it bleeds.
chapter 6: bite the hand | word count: 6.6k
“I hate you.” And he flinched as though the words had hurt him. As though he hadn’t spent every moment of the last three years trying to probe that very reaction from your lips. And you knew he must not have meant it. That it was nothing more than the residual regret leaving his body, but a part of you relished it. Relished causing him pain after the torture he had put you through.
“Good.”
chapter 7: sign of the times | word count: 6.7k
“You still love him, don’t you?” The question nearly has you jumping out of your skin. Still, you elect to avoid any direct sort of answer because the truth is, you aren’t sure.
“How would you know?”
“I’m your sister. I know you better than I know myself.”
#treech tbosas#treech x reader#treech thg#treech fanfiction#district 7#tbosas#treech#the hunger games#thg#tbosas x reader#tbosas fanfiction#hunger games#x reader#neabl#no evil angel but love
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você pode fazer mulheres de demon Slayer com o prompt “you’re pretty.” - “you’re drunk"? 🙏🙏
Of course I can 😩
Prompt 128 - “You’re pretty.” “You’re drunk.”
Ft. Shinobu Kocho, Mitsuri Kanroji, Lady Tamayo
Warnings: slight angst, alcohol consumption, cute but sad tbh. Canon verse because it be like that. Also not proofread.
SHINOBU KOCHO
“You know, I really hate demons.” Her words slurred, and you sat there, a frown forming on your lips as you listened. You had taken her out after your shared mission, and you were starting to regret it.
“I know, Kocho.” You hated to see her in such a state, her elegance slipping away with every drink she consumed. Before you knew it, she’d be making a fool of herself in the bar.
Thankfully it was just you two and the bartender. And the poor guy seemed pretty understanding.
“Yeah- and that stupid upper moon two.” She grumbled, a pout forming on her lips. “The next time I see him, I’ll bring him down for suuureee.” She hiccuped and then blushed slightly, almost as if she was embarrassed by the way she was behaving.
“I know, Kocho.” You swallowed thickly, biting the inside of your cheek as you sat there. There wasn’t really anything you could do, and you hated it so much. You knew that she had a lot of buried emotions, especially since her sister was killed and she took on Kanae’s personality.
“Y/n.” She set her glass down and looked into your eyes, and for a brief little moment you swore she was sober. “You’re so pretty.”
You frowned and looked away from her, letting out a sigh. “I know, Kocho.” You whispered softly. “But you’re drunk. Everything’s different when you’re drunk.”
MITSURI KANROJI
“OOOOH Y/NNNN” She gushed, swooning over you as you brought in the finest wine in the area, her eyes shining as you set it on the table. It wasn’t the first glass she had tonight, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.
She was already tipsy, but you figured she could spend the night in one of your guest rooms if she really needed to.
You poured her another glass of wine and smiled as she excitedly took a swig of it, relishing in the taste. “Do you like that?” You chuckled and poured yourself a glass, sipping on it lightly as she nodded in response.
“Oh yes yes yes!” She practically fangirled, fawning over the taste as if she were a connoisseur. “This one is the best so far!”
Mitsuri placed a hand on her cheek and grinned, her cheeks flushed a light hue of pink as she continued to down the wine.
“I’ll have to keep that in mind then.” You winked and smiled.
“Y’know y/n…” She slurred out, a drunken smile gracing her plump lips. “You’re really pretty!” She squealed and blushed as she said it aloud, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you stood from your seat and helped her out of the room.
“Thank you Mitsuri, but you’re drunk.” You replied, chuckling as she whined and stumbled into your arms.
Yeah she was definitely spending the night.
LADY TAMAYO
“You know, I never thought I’d get to see you like this.” Tamayo said softly as the rubbed your forehead, her eyes observing your drunken state.
You had gone out with the corps for drinks, but ended up getting carried away. The whole sight was new to Tamayo, since demons couldn’t get drunk and since you never really drank unless it was a special occasion.
However she liked how you clung to her, needy as ever as she helped you sober up.
Maybe she’d have to get you wasted more often. It would lead to some interesting events, that’s for sure.
“Tamayo…” You placed your hand on her cheek and caressed it softly, giving her a gentle smile as you stared deeply into her eyes. “You’re so pretty. I wish you were my girlfriend.”
She stifled a laugh and smiled down at you, leaning down so she could place a gentle kiss atop your forehead. “You’re drunk, Y/n.” She giggled. “We’ve been dating for seven years now.”
“Fuck yeah.” You cheered and nuzzled into her side, quickly falling asleep in her arms.
Your head was so gonna hurt in the morning.
#demon slayer#x reader#demon slayer shinobu#shinobu x reader#mitsuri kanroji#mitsuri x reader#kimetsu shinobu#shinobu kocho#kny shinobu#kny mitsuri#lady tamayo#tamayo x reader#kny x female reader#demon slayer imagine#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x you#demon slayer x reader#demon slayer x female reader
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