#IVE BEEN WAITING TO PULL OUT THIS KNOWLEDGE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arthenaa · 1 year ago

Text

nocturne (interlude) — mizu x f!reader

synopsis: it seems as if you've always managed to bump into your father's regular in untimely situations. it also can't be helped that you think he's absolutely handsome.

content: reader is a daughter of a medic and an apothecary, golden retriever x black cat trope, might contain historically inaccurate terms (not that well versed in the edo period or japanese culture. forgive me), mizu will be referred with he/him pronouns, mizu being emotionally constipated ig, slight mention of violence and gore, fluff, pre-relationship, meet cute, sfw.

a/n: heyaaa :D its been awhile since ive posteddd. considering this as a break from comms and sch!! ill try to be more active in posting as my xmas break is approaching hehe <33 current hyperfixation is mizu from blue eyed samurai. (I HIGHLY SUGGEST WATCHING IT !!!) enjoyy part 2!! (my love mine all mine)

You can still remember the first time you met him.

It was quite easy to recall the memory with ease. It was after all one of the nights where there weren't many customers fluttering about to avail your father's services in medicine due to idiotic accidents and miscalculated duels. You watched your father pull out herb after herb, vial after vial, stitch after stitch as more and more swordsmen of all ranks came in and out of the shop.

You were quite well-known around town as the daughter of the medic—often smiling and huffing about. Some say you were too naive to be comfortable and accommodating to your father's customers but others also claim you were elegant and a ray of sunshine due to your approachable and easygoing nature. None of that mattered anyway, not when the field of medicine was your only focus in life.

Your father doesn't like to call you his apprentice but you knew you were his. After all, with all the knowledge he's passed down unto you, you might as well run your own apothecary but alas, you still had much to learn.

It was also a quiet agreement among men that no one pays too much attention to the daughter of the skilled medic and apothecary. You suppose it's because of your father's standing and reputation that most men would rather cut off their arms than get on the bad side of one of the only medics who can actually do a decent job in life-threatening situations.

Which brings us to the current topic at hand.

It had been a cold winter that night. Your father had been busy making fresh medicine at the behest of a high lord in one of the rich provincial states up north. It was up to you to man the front and be alert in case any wanderers might walk in asking for help.

The harsh breeze of that winter night was your first cue. The doors had swung open which left you scrambling off your seat then a second later, a man with a lean stature stumbles his way through—arm clutching the side of his stomach.

Your breath hitches as he props himself against the wooden pillar. He looks up at you, blue eyes clear and intense that it left you speechless from where you stood.

"I-I," He gasps for air, eyebrows scrunching from the pain. "Help-I need—"

You wasted no time in aiding him as you took wide strides to his injured form, arms holding out to keep him steady as he began to wobble back and forth. You scream for your father, worried that the man before you would pass out at any moment.

Thankfully aware of the situation, your father prepares the receiving area. You look back at the injured patient with worry in your eyes as you further assess all sorts of damage on his figure.

However, you can't help but find yourself entranced by his clear blue eyes. Despite being on the brink of utter exhaustion, he has managed to keep himself awake perched up on your shoulder.

He locks eyes with you, blinking slowly, and just as you begin to get lost in those blue hues of his, his body begins to fall.

"Sir, wait—!"

Then he's out like a light.

The next time you met him had been purely coincidental.

After that night, the man left quietly like the leaves falling gently along the stream. He left quite a hefty sum of money on your father's desk and kept the bed clean at his departure. It's safe to say that your father was overjoyed by the payment.

Your father had sent you on an errand to town to gather some supplies from a supplier he trusts. He had been busy attending to patients and manning the counter to be the one to get the package himself.

"You have nothing better to do anyway, might as well be useful to your old dad," Your father scrunched his nose playfully as he placed a bag of money on your palms. "And if a man approaches you, remember to use that knife I gave you and make clean perforation at the jugular vein—"

You had stopped your father right there.

It didn't bother you that much and this also was an opportunity to get some leisure time. You did as you were told and saved a bit of money for window shopping.

Stumbling upon an artisan selling hair ornaments, your eyes immediately dart toward a golden hairpin with imitations of sakura leaves. Upon reaching out to inspect it, a hand collides with your own causing you to let out a gasp.

"Apologies—" Your eyes dart up to look at the stranger but is met instead with familiar blue eyes, this time under the disguise of orange tint sunglasses. "Oh! It's you."

The man furrows his eyebrows in confusion. "Are you Mr. Gojo's—?"

"Daughter?" You perk up with a smile. You shift from heel to heel at the intensity of his gaze. Somehow, you're feeling quite nervous with this gentleman. "Yeah. I caught you that night."

"Ah," The man nods, awkward in his stance before turning back toward the array of ornaments in front of him. "Thank you."

"I-It was no problem," You stammered, hands smoothing out the fabric of your kimono. "It's what we do after all."

There's a hum of response coming from the man before silence ensues between the two of you. He had gotten back to analyzing other items that the vendor was offering and you could only stand there, discreetly watching his every move.

You didn't have the opportunity to take a good look at him besides his eyes that night. Your father seemed like he had recognized the man before you and ushered you out of the room before you could have the chance to offer help. Though, now, you could see that he had a proportionate height—a few inches taller than you but still tall nonetheless. His shoulders evoke confidence with every move of his body but his face talks of the mystery hidden under the guise of his kasa. He was pretty, yet... handsome. You've never come across a man who could embody both sides of the spectrum.

"Do you need something?" His voice had startled you out of your daydream causing your cheeks to flush. He raises his eyebrow with his ever-perpetual glare. You give him a sheepish smile.

"I've never gotten your name, sir." You purse your lips, tilting your head as he squints his eyes at your request.

"My name? Why?"

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at his response. Why? What does he mean why? This man was truly cynical, you think.

"Well, I saved you, didn't I?"

"Correction. Your father did." The man deadpans. You giggle at his tone, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"Alright, no need to get so philosophical with me," You jest, trying to get him to lighten up to you. You take a step closer, trying to gauge his expressions as you give him a lighthearted smile. "Is getting to know people a crime now?"

The man sighs before looking at the array of hair ornaments to your right. He then grabs the hairpin you were looking at and tosses a bag of coins toward the vendor. He places it within your palms before adjusting his cloak. You flinch at the sudden gesture, unaware of his intentions.

"It's Mizu." He says before turning and leaving without further explanation. You stand, agape as the man further blends in with crowd with each step he takes away from you.

This man—No, Mizu, surely is interesting.

This next meeting was one you were thankful of.

Now, it wasn't as if your meetings were solely limited by chance. He became a regular after your father's incredible work on him. You watch him arrive usually at the end of every week, either looking to restock the medicine that your father gave him or get himself treated for an unwanted injury.

You tried interacting with him during his visits but Mizu always either cut the conversation short or grunted in annoyance. He never tried to entertain much of your whims and only left you grasping at straws for whatever possible chance of interaction he might give you.

Although, despite being cold towards you, he still has the heart to help you in mundane tasks whenever he encounters the chance. For instance, upon seeing you struggling with the basin, he immediately walked over and carried to where your father is with ease. He also grabbed your freshly bought basket of fruits and guarded you on your way back home. He even thumped the back of your head lightly with his hand on his way out while you were fixing up the front.

He was an enigma. A puzzle you desperately tried to solve but always failed.

The thought of his gentlemanly actions had always left your heart thumping faster and louder within the confines of your chest. Wanting to know him, get closer to him, see the corners of his lips upturned—anything to see a version of him only you can keep.

It also seems that your father is familiar with his master. You hear talks between them, asking about the well-being of a man named 'Master Eiji', the one whom Mizu calls his swordfather. You ought to know better than to eavesdrop but somehow your attention has always been led towards his very existence.

Your father had always been strict about you ever since you were but a wee girl. He had expressed the importance of having a fruitful marriage with someone who is of your deserving. He, after all, was in a true love marriage with your mother and was together for at least 25 years before your mother succumbed to her illness at the age of 45.

It also didn't help that you were deemed the sunlight of the town, often getting several interested looks from promising men. But all your suitors couldn't take the intensity of your father's expectations. It's safe to say that you won't be getting married for awhile.

"Just stay here, my daughter," Your father sighs as he serves you seconds of your favorite food. "Who the hell cares about marriage anyway."

You laugh, reaching out to pat your old man's hand. "It's going to look bad for you if you don't marry off your one and only daughter, y'know?"

"That's precisely why I don't want to do any of that," Your father grumbles, taking a sip of his soup. "Work here, eat, sleep, go have fun. That's what your mother would've wanted anyway."

You were grateful for your circumstances, yes, but you've always wanted to help out as much as you can for your dad. His reputation as a skilled medic can only take so much before others will come to expect more. So as long as you're in his care, you try to help out around his shop as much as you can.

Although you wonder if your father would allow him to—

Ah, forget it. Convincing your father was a lost cause.

Back to the current task at hand, your father had tasked you to gather some herbs from the forest near your humble abode as it is less taxing for your finances when you have easy access to one nearby. Gearing up for the coldness of winter, you stepped out of your house in pursuit of such herbs. With a hop on your step, you wish to finish your task sooner than later to prepare for a certain gentleman possibly visiting later at night.

The only you thing you didn't account for was the possible danger you'd be encountering.

"Listen, I-I don't want any trouble," You slowly backed away as a group of men began surrounding you. It was uncommon to encounter bandits around this area as this was situated near the town. You're not so sure as to what prompted this criminals to stage a robbery in broad daylight.

"Oh, c'mon little miss," One of the bandits chuckled. He twirled a knife in his hand as he approached you menacingly. "We just wanna know what you're up to."

Your breath speeds up as one of his companions playfully advanced with a jump in his step. You flinched back, heartbeat thumping as the crunch of leaves around you signified their slow advance towards your figure. You clutched the knife your father gave you within your hands, ready to use it in case one of them tries something.

Jugular vein. Neck. Neck. Vein. Keep it fast. Right side.

"Perhaps we could do something fun, darling? I'm sure you'd love it." Wide grins and loud laughter erupted from their lips.

Vein. Lethal point. Could head straight through the liver. Artery. Perforation.

Your head had begun to ramble, your father's words echoing within the depths of your mind. Just as you adjusted your grip on your knife and one of the bandits had began to finally get whatever they aimed for in the first place, a breeze of wind suddenly alerted you of a new presence.

You shut your eyes in fear as one of the men at the far back screamed.

"What the fuck?!" The leader bellowed as he watched his man crumple to the ground, holding what was left of his dismembered arm. The other bandits begin turning towards the new opponent, swords ready as they watched him step over their comrade.

You open your teary eyes, locking gazes with the familiar hues of blue hidden under orange tint. There's some sort of hardened glare as Mizu looked at you up and down, assessing your well-being within a matter of seconds.

"This is Takayama's jurisdiction," Mizu's deep voice bellowed as he placed his hand on the scabbard of his sword. "I suggest you leave."

The leader lets out a scoff as he widens his shoulders to appear more menacing to him. Mizu only looks at him under the guise of his kasa.

"You are outnumbered, samurai," The man smirks. It might've been intimidating with the number of men that surrounded Mizu but you were well aware of his prowess as a swordsman and completely had faith in his abilities. "Your talks of dominance do not affect me."

Mizu chuckles, one hand reaching up to push back his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"We'll see about that."

"Thank you," You smile widely, eyes crinkling as you grab his extended hand.

The bandits groaned in pain as they crumbled to the ground. Some have even passed out from the harsh hits that Mizu had inflicted. You watched him twirl and move with elegance, slicing and hitting with precise angles that left you in awe at his performance.

It took at most 15 minutes for him to finish all of them and another 3 minutes for you to pick your jaw off the floor and fix yourself up.

"It's no problem," Mizu nods at your gratitude. He holds your hand firm as you wobble back and forth to stay back in balance. "Although, I advise that you venture towards areas within the town vicinity. This area is bordering outside of Takayama, thus the bandits."

"Ah," You let out a soft laugh. "There were more herbs here. I thought it was safe."

Mizu doesn't reply back as he gazes at you from the comforts of his glasses. You flush at his stare, still not being able to handle its intensity. You look down to busy yourself with, staring at your conjoined hands before finally taking notice of a scratch on the side of his hand to his wrist.

"You're injured," You whispered as you pulled his hand close to yours. You hear Mizu's breath hitch as he stumbles slightly at the pull of your hand. You look up at him as he furrows his eyebrows.

"I-It's fine, it doesn't hurt." He tries to reason with you but your grip on his hand remains steady.

"You saved me so I'll repay you by treating this. Alright?" You give him your best smile and suddenly the samurai doesn't have the heart in him to say no. At the sound of his reluctant silence, you enthusiastically pull out your satchel filled with medicinal tools. It was handy that you always kept your tools with you no matter where you went.

You applied antiseptic, brushing it with a clean cloth along the wound. Whether Mizu felt the pain or not, he only remained as still as a rock while you worked.

"You're early today," You try to make conversation as you clean his wound up. Mizu stays silent for a few seconds before replying.

"I had free time," He says. "I... was also out of medicine so..."

You hum, nodding along his words as you make gentle strokes to ease the pain (if he ever felt it).

"If you ever need to go out like this again," He picks up the conversation making your heart skip a beat. There's a pause of silence before he continues. "Let me—If I'm there, let me know. You don't need to endanger yourself like this."

You let out a quiet laugh as you finally wrapped his wound with a white strip of cloth. You look at him with softened eyes, reveling in his slightly flushed cheeks and gaze dulled by sincerity. There's a pause of comfortable silence between the two of you, only lost in each other's gazes.

You slowly reach out, hands pausing as you communicate a request for consent. Mizu only gives you a small nod before you reach out to pull off his glasses. Those same beautiful blue orbs stare back at you as you revel in their gaze.

"You're more handsome like this," You whisper as you take a step closer to him. Snow gently falls around you, cascading in gentle flow as you breathe out puffs of air. Mizu tilts his head with an upturn of the corner of his lips.

There it is.

You flush in his gaze as he reaches up to brush a stray hair away from your face. "You're jesting," He says with a quiet tone.

Your gaze at him doesn't waver. "I'd say yes if you asked me to marry you."

Mizu let's out a chuckle, eyebrow raised at your bold response. "You are one dangerous lady, Y/N. Does your father know that?"

You roll your eyes at him. "How could he know when all he does is keep men away from me," You tilt your head playfully, "Although, I do wonder why he often keeps you close. Perhaps, he's found you to be worthy of a man."

Mizu laughs at your praises, shoulders shaking as the two of you stand close to one another, basking in the soft breeze of the winter sky. He lifts his hand up and flicks your forehead. You flinch back, holding your forehead in pain as you give him a glare.

"Ow?!" You frown as he looks at you with a smirk on his lips. "What a way to turn off a lady!"

"You're too adorable to be a lady," Mizu teases as he crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head as he looks at you with squinted eyes in thought. "Kind of like a.... puppy."

Your jaw drops at his comparison causing him to release a few chuckles. It wasn't fair that he was out here causing poor things to your heart and raised by a father who was direct and determined to achieve the things he wanted in life, you didn't allow yourself to back down.

With wide strides, you easily reach where he stands before standing on your toes and grabbing his face as you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Wha-?!" His face flushes a deep red as he moves back holding his cheek. You flash him a cheeky grin as he looks at you with wide eyes.

"I'll be waiting for your proposal, Mizu," You giggle, swaying back and forth with your hands tucked behind you. You put on his glasses before leaning slightly forward with eyes squinted playfully. "Or shall I be the one to propose, hm? Seeing as your blushing from just a kiss on the cheek."

Mizu takes a few seconds before collecting himself. There's an unreadable look on his face before makes careful steps towards you. You watch him, curious as he stops in front of you—hand reaching out to pull his glasses off from your face. You expect him to start berating you for invading his space but what you received after was certainly something you never took into account.

He leans down and gingerly places a kiss on your lips. Your breath hitches as he presses himself close before pulling away all to fast. Your lips tingle as you watch him put on his glasses back with a smile.

"I'm no coward, Y/N," He adjusts your cloak as you remain speechless in front of him. "I don't make promises I can't keep."

And just as he enters, he walks off with quiet footsteps, leaving you grasping at whatever was left of your brain after what he just did. Your face flushes a deep red as your fingertips touches your lips with shaky movements.

Did this man just—

"Are you coming?!" He calls over from the dirt path back to your house. You stumble in your footing as you rush over to him.

"I-I'm coming!" You stammer as you gather your things and rushed towards him. He greets you with a smile and this time with his glasses tucked away. Blue hues greet your flushed form and suddenly an overwhelming realization washes over you.

Oh, I'm definitely not going to let this man go.

a/n: MY WIFE MIZU MY WIFEEE,,,,, planning to make a pt2 idk lemme guys know if u want one. will also fix my archive, tumblr's getting messy. NOT PROOFREAD but will fix if ever i do go back on this after my finals. HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS!

#arthenaa #mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #the blue eyed samurai #Spotify

2K notes · View notes

inzaynety · 6 months ago

Text

observation duty ⤫

➢ summary: you’ve taken an interest in some medical books he has laying around, and what better real-life, hands on specimen than your own man?

➢ content: zayne x fem!reader, 1215 words, shirtless zayne, slightly suggestive

➢ notes: imagine touching this mans serratus anterior 🤭; okay but it’s been a while since ive taken muscle physio and all i remember is that and like a few others so you’re getting my limited knowledge enjoy

Maybe you should’ve gotten into physiology sooner. It was pretty enjoyable, if you made it out to be.

It all started after a long afternoon nap. You wake up following a typical fever dream with a cold sweat and confusion. Adjusting to the initial disorientation, you look over at the digital clock, and only twenty minutes have passed. With how groggy you felt and the approaching sunset out the window, it sure didn’t feel like it.

Swinging your legs over the bed, you walk into the hallway in hopes of finding your boyfriend. He mentioned leaving for the store for a couple of things before you knocked out, and he must have still been out while you called his name. You keep walking and decide to just wait in his office, stalking over to his desk and looking down at the contents.

I’m mature, you think to yourself. Maybe you’re still processing the trauma of waking up.

The book Zayne has on the corner of his desk has a diagram of a man fully unclothed, and your eyes subconsciously zone in on one particular spot. You choke back a laugh before closing your eyes and composing yourself.

You feel another laugh coming. I’m mature.

It’s embarrassing to say that it took a good five seconds before another laugh bubbled up in your throat. Taking the defeat, you seat yourself and open the book to avoid seeing the drawing again and making no progress. The random page you find yourself on has a regular diagram you would see around his office and rooms of your routine physicals, pointing out the main muscles you were somewhat familiar with.

You don’t realize that you’ve flipped through a good number of pages until the front door opens and his voice comes through the hallway.

“I’m home.” He calls out, and you rush over to greet him. He’s carrying a few grocery bags, and while he’s typically against it, there’s your favorite takeout in his arms. “Sleep well?” He asks when you come into his view. Nodding, you help take the food from him, but your eyes don't meet him like they usually do.

“I did,” you’re distracted, “welcome home.”

Zayne thinks there must be something on his shirt and goes to subconsciously rub at it with his now free hand, but you stop him in his tracks by holding onto his forearm. To your not-so surprise, it tenses at how intense your stare is.

“My love, what are you looking at?” You let out a short breath and release him to place your takeout on the dining table, leaving him utterly bewildered by the door. Zayne’s used to your antics by now, though they never fail to surprise him. However, it’s not too long after he puts the small amount of groceries away that you take his arm again in your grasp, squeezing a little. “Darling–”

“You have such nice extensors.” You say it matter-of-factly, squeezing at the taut muscles. He’s not flexing or anything, so you take it upon yourself to move upward towards his bicep. “Flex.” He does.

Oh. Surely you’ve noticed it before, but the diagrams on those pages really make you appreciate the finer details.

After a few moments of silent squeezing, you meet his eyes with a sweet smile and pull him closer to your body. He wastes no time wrapping his arms around you, though his expression is still laced with questioning.

“Zayne?”

“Yes, my love?” He can’t say no to you, right?

“Can you take your shirt off?” He blinks.

“Come again?” You don’t say anything and simply tug at the hem with both of your hands. There’s a look of determination on your face that intensifies when you lock eyes with him.

Again, you never failed to surprise him, and clearly, the day would never come when you wouldn’t. Thus, for now, it seemed like he had no choice.

His skin is smooth underneath your fingertips, and the expanse of his back was much broader than you had anticipated.

“Why are you surprised?” There’s a bit of playfulness in his tone: “You’ve seen this plenty of times before.”

“Shut up,” you pout, continuing with light pokes here and there and muttering under your breath of the different muscles you learned. He hums in his spot, hearing you name everything, and you think it’s all right as he doesn’t say anything to correct you.

Trapezius, latissimus dorsi, rhomboid minor, rhomboid major—it was all so much clearer than you anticipated—you didn’t know if you should feel impressed or something a little more. Zayne really did do these diagrams justice.

After finishing off what you could remember, you tap his cheek, signaling for him to change his position for what remains of your studies. He complies, muscles rippling as he presses down into the couch to lift himself up to turn. Your eyes linger on his shoulders, trailing down his arms to where his hands grip the fabric.

Ah. Nice.

“Are you almost finished?” Zayne questions you and easily accepts you into his lap when he settles down.

“Mhm, just a few more.” Winking, you nip at the tip of his nose, and he can’t help but scrunch. How could a man like him be so cute?

You continue on, staring at his abdomen, and you try your best to ignore the slight flinch he gives when your nail trails over the sensitive skin. He knows you’re doing it on purpose if that smirk on your face was anything to go by.

And here was the part you were waiting for. Pectoralis major, pectoralis minor.

You spent a bit of time here, not knowing who it benefited more: you or him. And again, you keep going.

It’s comfortable, straddling his lap as you trace over his lines of hard work. He watches quietly when you make it up his neck, sternocleidomastoid coming through your lips in a whisper, and his skin starts to create bumps. The sensation isn’t unwelcome, but he would much rather you pick up the pace because, while your focus is endearing; he really wants to kiss you.

You trail to his face, still avoiding his eyes, and finally, finally, stop at his lips.

“All done,” you muse, and you feel his arms twitch around your frame when you giggle. “How’d I do?” He lets out a huff, but a smile grazes his lips when he leans forward, getting that kiss he wanted for some time now.

“Perfect.” There’s a sudden grip at your waist, and you’re flipped over, back to the couch, as he can’t wait any longer.

Bonus:

You hum in satisfaction, bringing your arms around him as he settles himself comfortably on your chest. There’s a few breaths of silence as you trail a hand down from his tricep towards his wrist—but you stop just at his elbow. Zayne flinches against you when you lightly pinch and pull at the skin there.

“Zayne?”

“Hm?”

“Is this a weenus?”

He doesn’t say anything, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but looking down, you see that he’s staring at you with the most scandalized look. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not.

“A weenu—what? Where did you hear that from?”

“Rafa—“

“I think you should stop listening to him.”

©inzaynety 2024

#zayne x reader #zayne fluff #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #l&d x reader #l&d fluff #fics

439 notes · View notes

samkerrworshipper · 8 months ago

Text

your moms are here

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader, (wobbs as coparents)

part 5 of beautiful girl series pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3 -> pt.4

warnings: if your any bit emotionally unstable this isn’t for u x

You didn’t expect to wake up, let alone wake up warm and in a fraction of the amount of pain you’d been in the last time you’d been conscious enough to feel anything.

Your eyes were still crammed shut, your chest still hurt, your body was still shaking, but you felt better, less like you were dangling on the cliff of life and death, you weren’t sure where you were, or if you were even alive.

Was this they greater beyond?

Was it the warmth of death’s embrace?

You knew it wasn’t, because there was still the dull pain and the tension all over your body. You didn’t believe that life after death was anything, that it was actually some overwhelming cloud of happiness and perfection, but if it did exist, if there was some kind of heaven, this wasn’t it.

You thought about the places you could be, in bed at Matt’s house, in bed at your mom’s house, in bed at some kidnappers house, in bed at rehab.

You quickly eliminated each option, the bed and sheets weren’t the same from your bed or Matt’s, kidnappers didn’t normally concern themselves with comfortability, and in your mind rehab would have more detoxing, screaming, junkies.

Out of pure fear, you tried to crack your eyes open, it wasn’t easy, but with some concentration that made your forehead feel like it was being split open, you managed to slowly crack your right eye open. There was sleep and tears keeping your eyelashes stuck together, which made it far harder then it should have been, the blinding white light directly above your head wasn’t much help either.

You took back what you thought, everything hurt.

From your toenails to the follicles on top of your head, it felt like every single nerve in your body was being plucked and split in half.

Your whole body curled itself up into a ball, it made the shaking a little bit less like your body was being exorcised.

You realised very quickly as your eye became accustomed to the light around you that you were in the last place you possibly wanted to be.

You should have clocked on to it, based on the persistent beeping noise coming from above you and the cords that were connected to your arm.

They’d dropped you off out the front of a fucking hospital.

Or someone had found you and called a ambulance.

Or your moms had taken you to the hospital.

Or you were in some sick twisted dream.

With the rest of the energy that was left in your body you managed to crack open your other eye, it wasn’t easy, but it helped you feel more aware of your surroundings.

It was a surprisingly quiet hospital, or at least by your standards.

You tried to sit up, but it was no use, your body was completely spent, all of the energy felt like it had been completely pulled from your body.

Withdrawals, maybe.

Or the reaction of the opioid with the stimulant.

Those were your best guesses as to how you’d ended up feeling like death.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out, the curtain which was keeping you contained from the rest of the ER was opened up, a nurse waltzing her way over to your bedside.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit vulnerable, you could hardly move your body and had a lot less control over it then you would have liked.

“Miss dump and run awakens.”

Dump and run.

You couldn’t decide whether or not you were mad with your friends, on one hand, it was smart of them to drop you off at an er. They had no medical knowledge, they were druggies, they didn’t need a dead body on their hands. On the other hand, they’d left you, deserted you, left you for dead.

The nurse moved to your IV and monitor, looking at the different flashing numbers and writing them down on her clipboard, before she looked down and addressed you properly.

“Had a lot of drugs in your system for such a wee thing like yourself. Your friends were smart to drop you here, you would have been as good as dead with that much meth in your system for any longer. I’ve seen a lot of overdoses in my day, you might just take the cake though, darlin’.”

Overdose?

A fucking overdose?

You’d been doing drugs for months now, meth, a smidge of coke, little bits of molly and LSD, a little sprinkle of heroin, opioids a couple of times, plenty of weed. Not once had you ever overdosed, you’d never seen someone overdose, you’d come to think it was urban myth.

You’d hardly taken anything, two shoot ups within a couple of hours of each other, it wasn’t something you’d done before but it also wasn’t exorbitant or something you hadn’t seen other people do.

“Sorry, an overdose?”

You were still shaking, it was less obvious underneath the shitty hospital blanket that was on top of you, but you were still shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Yup, think you had more meth in your blood stream then blood. The saline should flush it all out until your guardians get here.”

Guardians?

What?

What the actual fuck was this nightmare that you were stuck in.

“Sorry, my guardians?”

The nurse looked back down at her clipboard.

“Ms Williamson and Ms Nobbs? We’re obligated to call emergency contacts in life threatening circumstances and those were the ones that were on your phone, they should be here soon enough.”

You didn’t care that you couldn’t moved, you needed to leave.

“I want to discharge, now.”

The nurse looked at you like you had gone silly, like you were in a psychiatric ward instead of the emergency one.

“You’re underage, and you’d have to sign a waiver saying that you are aware you’re going against doctors orders, a lot of paperwork, and you’d actually have to be strong enough to walk out of here, which I can promise you is not happening any time soon,”

The nurse pointed to the IV bag.

“There’s still another hour or so left on this, until it’s done that dizzines your experiencing and the weakness isn’t going to pass. You’re frighteningly dehydrated and full of methamphetamines.”

Fuck.

You were so fucking fucked.

“Please, I’ll sign whatever forms, just let me leave, please.”

You didn’t know how you planned to leave, considering you weren’t even mobile enough to roll onto your back to look at the nurse properly, eye to eye.

“You get up and walk to my desk where the papers are and you can leave, how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

You want to yell directly into her face and tell her to let you fucking leave. But you don’t, you have a inch of self-respect that prevents you from doing it.

“Please.”

You’ve never liked to beg, you did enough of it during your youth, begging for your mom to not leave you home alone every night, begging for things to get better, begging for your life to get better, and it had. Jordan and Leah had introduced you to a whole new world, a beautiful world, the kind of world you’d read about as a child, they’d given you anything and everything you’d wanted growing up. You’d become gracious, but promised yourself that you’d never beg in the same way that you always had, but when your life had been turned upside down, you’d reverted back to your old ways.

“I have a daughter of my own, y’know, around your age. If she was in your situation all I would care about is her being okay, that’s whats most important.”

You rolled your eyes, you were certain of one things, your moms would be mad, you were surprised they were coming at all, everyone had deserted you, it felt like you had nobody.

“Can i get something for the pain?”

You were intelligent enough to know that the iv was detoxing you at a rapid rate, whilst it was saving your life, it also meant that you were going to be sent into withdrawals a lot faster then you should have. You weren’t going to get your hands on meth, clearly. So you needed a substitute, luckily, you were currently sitting in a hospital which was filled with every single painkiller known to man.

“Good try honey, a part from the fact that your bloodstream and body couldn’t even handle a tylenol at the minute, I’m also not going to give an addict drugs, just hang in honey, the chest pain and muscle cramps should start to pass soon.”

Just as she was finishing, your eyes darted to the emergency room doors, which were now hanging open as your two moms and Lia walked through the doors.

Jordan was dressed in the same sweats she’d been in all morning, her face was red and puffy, eyes bloodshot and still full of tears.

Leah looked more put together, she had a pair of slacks on and a clean shirt, her eyes were as red as Jordan’s but she appeared to have put on more of a brave face.

Your eyes darted everywhere, looking for some kind of escape, or to stop their fast steps that were slowly getting closer to you with every millisecond that passed.

There was no hope for you.

If the drugs hadn’t killed you then your moms would.

Leah managed to cross into your makeshift room first, her eyes flashing across every inch of your body. You expected her to ask the nurse a question, or yell at you, but she didn’t.

She walked straight to your bedside, your nurse moving out of the way, and without you being aware of what was happening, wrapped her arms around your body.

You didn’t hug your moms a lot anymore.

In the start, when you’d started out with them, it had taken a lot of effort from them to make you trust them with that kind of contact, but eventually, you’d become reliant on their hugs, the shoulder pats, the little motherly touches here and there that you’d never gotten as a kid.

When they’d broken up, the hugs and contact had faded, similarly to the love in the house, it was like everything personal, everything that made Leah’s house a home had been drained.

“You’re okay, thank god you’re okay.”

Leah’s body lingered on your own body long enough for Jordan’s arms to wrap around your body on the other side of you.

You hadn’t been hugged by the both of them in over a year, you felt guilty for wishing that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that you could have this whenever you wanted. That wasn’t your life though, it wasn’t your reality, it wasn’t reality.

You let yourself relax, you knew you’d regret it when the moment ended, it’d make it that much harder to realise you couldn’t have this, but you let yourself enjoy it whilst you had it.

It lasted longer than you’d thought, it was hard, Jordan hugs were addictive. You didn’t get them a lot anymore, occasionally you’d get a hug from Leah, once every blue moon when she wanted one, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t body on body, feelings on feelings, love on love.

You didn’t know if you knew what love felt like anymore, over the years it had been distorted, you were certain that love could only be given to a person in transaction. It’s why you’d tried to be perfect, the perfect kid, the perfect student, the perfect player. You’d given up when Jordan had left, it didn’t matter anymore, there wasn’t enough love to be shared around between you and Leah. Love to you, was a privilege, not something that everyone had extra of. You had to earn love, or at keast that;s how you’d always seen it. You’d never been good enough for your own parents, that’s how you’d ended up with Jordan and Leah, from them you’d always craved that love, the love you’d never gotten and you’d been willing to do anything for it, you still were.

“We love you so much chicky, so much.”

You enjoyed the little murmurs, the little whispers in your ears that were so heartfelt and meaningful that you could feel the tears of your moms dripping down each side of your neck.

All good things come to and end, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Leah, unsurprisingly was the first to turn to your nurse.

“They didn’t tell me anything on the phone, just that we needed to come here, she’s okay?”

Your nurse nodded at your mom.

“Yes ma’am, we’re flushing her out right now. She wants to discharge herself, it’s going against medical advice but she’s free to once she’d done with her iv and she’s regained some strength.”

Jordan sat down on the bed next to you, leaving a big enough gap of space that you could still feel her presence but weren’t pressed up against her, she was listening just intently as Leah to the nurse.

“Flushing her out? Of what?”

Fuck.

You’d never ever, in your life, known Leah to not be inquisitive, she needed and wanted answers to everything, but this was worrying you. There were things you kept a secret for a reason.

“Methamphetamines, she had a pretty high amount circulating in her body. I can get the doctor to come and talk to you about it. Her body had built up a decent tolerance, she took it a lot better than you or I would. Apart from that she’s in fairly good condition, although the doctor did have some concerns about some scratches and bruises that seemed consistent with domestic or sexual abuse.”

You watched, in a series of moments, your mothers face fall more and more as the nurse kept speaking. Leah was pretty good at having a poker face, she had to for her job, she also kept a brave face for life though. You’d hardly seen a break in her resolve since her injury but right now, she was keeping nothing hidden. You felt Jordan’s body go rigid behind you as well, you knew shit was about to get real.

You considered strangling yourself with the blanket on top of you, or drowning yourself in the toilet bowl in the adjacent bathroom. It sounded better than the conversation that was about to occur.

“You’re daughter is very lucky, stupid, but lucky. Her friends ditched her at the front door, if they had of been any later she’d be in far worse condition. She was here just quick enough for us to counteract the drugs and stop them from effecting her mental cognition. Her friends shouldn’t have ditched her, or let her get that far gone, but you should be grateful they were at least smart enough to take her somewhere she could get help. I’m going to go find the doctor, he can talk to you about different option you have, and I’ll leave you guys to talk for a little bit, okay?”

Leah nodded, dumbfoundedly, trying her best to smile at the nurse as she made her way towards the exit of your room, closing the curtains and then the door.

Leah pivoted as soon as she was gone, looking down at you with so much horror and pain that you could feel it in your gut.

“Meth, bubba? You’ve been doing meth?”

The sentence hung in the air for a few seconds, filling up all of the space, you hoped that after a couple of seconds that it would disappear, like it had never been said.

“It’s not a big deal.”

You should have chosen your words more precisely, but you were finding it hard to think with all of the drug haze clouding your head.

“Not a big deal? You told me it was the vape, then it was weed, then it was coke and now iut’s fucking meth? There is nothing not big about that bubba. This isn’t just something you can do for fun, this isn’t okay, this is serious. You could die from this. You almost did. You’re 17. 17 year olds aren’t supposed to die. Why bubba? What made you want to do this, not just to yourself but to your life, to everyone. Do you know how scared your mother and I have been. The whole team has been calling up hospitals and roaming the streets looking for you. We’ve been terrified.”

Guilt was one of the best ways to make a person admit they were wrong, you knew it, you’d watched your moms manipulate each other during the break up the same way. They’d use something against the other until it spiralled into a massive fight which would end with someone sleeping at a teammates house or on the couch.

“I’m sorry, okay? Can we just go home? I want to go home.”

Another poor choice in words apparently by the look on Leah’s face.

“No we can’t just go home, we need to talk about this bubba, you overdosed on meth. You have a tolerance for it, which means you’ve been using it for a while. You have bruises and you’re in a hospital bed unable to move. You’re addicted to a drug that I would have thought you’d have absolutely no interest in. You’ve got a disease bubba, you’ve got an addiction and we’re going to work it out, we’ll fix it.”

Similar to being a control freak, Leah was also a person who wanted to fix everything. No problem was big enough for her, apparently your whole life wasn’t either.

“Mom this isn’t a disease, this isn’t like fucking cancer or something. I made a choice, I have it under control, this is my life. I’m choosing to live it this way.”

Your mom looks like she’s about to lose her shit.

“I understand that you think you have this under control and that you think this is the best way to be living your life but it fucking isn’t. I understand you’re struggling, but this isn’t okay, you’re a kid, you can;t be doing this.”

Worst thing you can tell a addict, you can’t take drugs.

Because yes you most certainly can, it’s a free motherfucking country.

“I understand what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me a bad person or any different from your or mama. You don’t like who i am anymore, not since i quit football and stopped being who you wanted me to be, I’ve changed and you have to accept that, this is me mom, this is who I am.”

Leah looked flabbergasted.

“You want me to just nod my head and accept my daughter is a junkie, right? That’s the permission you are seeking, you aren’t going to get it bubba, this isn’t anywhere near okay. This isn’t you, people change, I change, you’re allowed to be different then how you were a couple of years ago. Drugs isn’t how you change yourself, it’s not how you reinvent yourself. You can’t live your whole fucking life like this because guess what, you’ll end up dead. Addiction is a degenerative disease, it is incurable, it is deadly, it’s no fucking different from cancer and you’ve got it. I understand that, you’ve got an addiction, we’ll figure it out. I am not going to enable you to keep abusing a substance that will kill you. You’ve got a death wish and I won’t sit by and allow it to happen. I thought I was cool, I thought it was good of me to be accepting that you’re a teenager and you were going to do stupud stuff, I let you get away with much more than I should have. I’m sorry, I’m sorry that if I gave you to much space that you felt the need to do this, I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough parent to see the warning signs, but I won’t let you kill yourself bubba, not when I can stop it from happening.”

Jordan was still silent, as passive as ever, she’d always taken a backseat, the silent enabler.

“You’ve got no fucking idea what I’m going through, I’m sorry I scared you, but I don’t have to explain my actions to you, you understand nothing about what I’m dealing with.”

The first time you sweared in the presence of Leah and Jordan was your second day with them. You didn’t even know what swearing was, you’d just picked up words that had been said as you’d been growing up. You hadn’t hesitated to throw a ‘fuck’ out when you’d stubbed your foot on the kitchen bench as you’d been pouring yourself a glass of water.

You’d known something was wrong though when you’d turned around to sit back down at the table with Leah and Jordan and both of them looked like they’d seen a ghost.

You’d hardly swore after that, to your core, you were a people pleaser, you didn’t like to be in trouble, right now though it was like everything you’d grown up with was exiting your body. You felt like a monster, like a version of yourself you didn’t know and it was hard, it was really fucking hard. You didn’t want to break down, you were scared that if you were vulnerable you’d be taken advantage of again, the same way that you friends had, so you put up your won shields.

“I don’t need to know what you’re going through to know that this isn’t good. We’ll get you into rehab, we’ll get you clean, we’re here for you, right Jords?”

You could feel Jordan nodding from behind you.

“I’m not going to rehab, fuck no.”

Leah was pacing, it was what she did when she was stressed, it was a clear tell.

“So, I’m just supposed to allow you back into my house, knowing that you’ve been hiding an addiction from me for months, trust that my drug addicted child will stay clean on her own account and be willing to go through withdrawals and not give in to her own addiction. Do you think I don’t love you, is that it? Because right now you’re telling me that I am expected to allow my daughter to use drugs, lethal drugs that almsot killed her, under my roof, allow you to live your life as you want it, and leave you alone. As a person who loves you and has loved your for the past 9 years of your life, are you actually hearing what you are saying?”

Love.

It was a curious thing, your mother thought she loved you, or at least she felt like she did. Ut was funny how to you, you felt the exact opposite way.

“So what you’re doing this to show me you love me or something? Reality check, you haven’t given a fucking shit about me in months, it’s all about Lia, all about your knee. I’m not selfish enough to expect that you can focus on me whilst your recovering but don’t try and act like you’ve been loving and caring about me this whole time when you haven’t.”

Leah sits herself down, she can only handle so long on her feet nowadays.

“Maybe you should coem stay with me, come to rehab in Birmingham. Bubba, your mom is still struggling.”

You’re more than shocked to hear Jordan pipe up, it reignites something else in you.

“No you don’t get to have a fucking say. You left me, you don’t text anymore, you don’t call. I’m only your kid when it’s convenient for you, which is about 10 days every year. You don’t even try with me, you washed your hands of me a year ago and you don’t get to come back now. You gave me up.”

Your sick of being the understanding one, sick of being the one everybody could burden with their problems, sick of being the fucking scapegoat in every situation.

“Look kid, i think you need to have some more respect for your mothers.”

Lia.

Fucking Lia and her audacity and her fucking butting into all of your family problems.

“No you don’t get a fucking say, you move in a couple of months ago to support my mom and all of a sudden your my third fucking parent. You’ve got nothing to do with me, You don’t get to have a say in anything, you aren’t apart of this fucking family.”

Leah looked like she was having about 30 wars with herself inside of her head, like she was struggling to figure out which side of her brain she should side with.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, you need to be respectful to Lia.”

You were sick of everybody telling you that you had to respect people, that you had to follow fucking rules. They wondered why you’d spiralled.

“No, fuck this, fuck you, fuck jordan, fuck everything. I made a series of decisions, ones that I am happy with, this is how I am living my life.”

Leah took a deep breath, before turning to face you.

It was hard looking at her eye to eye, you were putting her through a lot right now, and a part of you deep down felt bad about it. You didn’t want to make your mom feel in pain, you didn’t want her to suffer, it was the last thing you wanted. Without her, you’d be as good as nothing, you’d have absolutely nothing. But you were lashing out, you were as frantic as your sore chest and pumping heart would let you be.

“Bubba. You don’t seen what’s wrong. I do, Jordan and I are sitting here talking to a girl that we don’t know. This isn’t our daughter, this isn’t the girl we’ve raised. You’re going to go to rehab, you’re going to detox, you’re going to get properly clean and once you are we’ll have this conversation again, see if you have a different perspective.”

You didn’t want to have this conversation when you were clean, you wanted to have it now.

“No. If you gave a shit about me, like you’re acting to, you wouldn’t have fucking broken up in the first place. You wouldn’t have torn my life apart, you wouldn’t have done this to me. You wouldn’t have stopped cring about me, you wouldn’t have stopped loving me. Let me go, let me leave. You fucking did this to me and if you want to make it up to me you’ll let me leave.”

You saw Leah’s face fall to another level.

“I can’t do that bubba.”

You felt like you were spinning out of control, like you were in a car that had just fallen over a cliff, and you were slowly doing flip after flip as the car catapulted towards the rocks at the bottom.

“Mom, just let me leave, let me go, please mom, let me leave, let me fucking leave.”

Leah just shook her head at you.

“Bubba, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, it might not ever. I know me and your mom breaking up was hard for you, you didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry for that, but neither of us could handle keeping you in a household without love, and I know it’s different now, I’m so sorry for that, I wish we could go back. But we can’t, me and your mom don’t love each other more, we can’t just love each other. We love you though, we love you more then anything else. We would both pick you above anybody in the world, you’re our beautiful little girl, you’re our girl. You’ll never not be our daughter. We chose you years ago and we would choose you again today, everyday, for the rest of our lives. No matter what you do.”

There are big tears dripping down your moms face, you’ve seen her cry plenty in your life, Leah Williamson is known to be an emotional person, but not like this, not with this much anguish and pain in her face, never like this.

“You don’t love me, you can’t fucking love me, I’m not like either of you. I break people apart, I’m a catalyst, everywhere I go, I tear people a part, I wreck their lives. I wrecked my parents, I wrecked you guys relationship, I wrecked my own life. I’m a fucking semi-truck that bulldozes through peoples lives, just let me leave and you guys can be happy again.”

Leah takes a double take, her fists are white from how hard they are holding onto the arms of the chair she’s sat in. You’re surprised she doesn’t yell back at you, but instead of meeting your aggression with an equal amount, she composes herself.

“Bubba, do you know how much I love you, how much your mama and I love you? If you could take all of the words in the english language, it still wouldn’t be enough to describe how much we love you. And if you could gather all of those words together, it still wouldn’t be enough. What we feel for you is everything. I love you more than everything. You don’t pull people a part, you’ve made your mama and I happier than we ever would have been without you. You light up our lives everyday, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but just seeing you everyday is my biggest achievement, it’s the best part of my day. Seeing you grow up to be the person Jord and I raised will forever be the best part of my life. You didn’t tear us apart, if anything you were what kept us together for so long, because being around you made us both so happy, that all of our problems didn’t matter as much. Eventually it was too much though, it had nothing to do with you, it never will, it never did. You’re the light in our life, you are our whole universe. We just want you to be okay, you don’t have to be who you were, people change, but you need to be okay. You’re not okay right now, there isn’t anything wrong with that, it’s okay to not be okay, but me and your mama will find you help if you don’t seek it our yourself. You need to go to rehab, you can’t live your life like this, it isn’t sustainable. Drugs ruin peoples lives. I don’t need to throw stats at you for you to understand the magnitude of drug related deaths, because that’s how this will end, with you dead. You’ve been through so much bubba, you’re so strong, but you don’t always have to be strong, you’re allowed to break down, you’re allowed to have bad days. But drugs isn’t a way to fix that, it’s not a safe coping mechanism, you can’t rely on drugs to solve every problem that you have. You need to get clean. We love you so much, our beautiful girl.”

Everything hurts, your heart, your head, your body. Your eyes and head aren’t clear, it’s like there is a fuzzy haze covering everything, but you believe what Leah is telling you, she’s telling you the honest truth, and you can’t deny that.

#woso #woso community #sammykworshipper thoughts #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #leah williamson x reader #jordan nobbs x reader #jordan and leah #jordan nobbs #golden retriever leah vibes #leah williamson is mother #leah williamson fic #leah williamson imagine #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #sammykworshipperfics

579 notes · View notes

honeyhotteoks · 8 months ago

Text

i genuinely can't stop thinking about yunho as a fallen angel... like...

yunho’s catholic confirmation name is stefano, which is i believe a reference to saint stephen. saint stephen is the patron saint of several different things, but the one that caught my eye was the patron saint of coffin makers. ive had that knowledge churning around in my brain for a long time, especially after watching the kdrama doom at your service, but after seeing these pictures my mind is absolutely spinning with fallen angel soulmate yunho brain rot……… so come along with me

•

fallen angel yunho. he's been wandering the earth for years, passing through life and people and history and he's never known the reason that he was cast out until he meets her, you. he hears you first, a distant voice in the back of his mind, a prayer to his saintly name, a name he hasn't heard in what feels like a millennia. a whisper to saint stephen, the man he used to be, many years and many bodies ago.

no one prays to him anymore, not really. certainly not a voice like yours, ringing clearly and angrily in his ear, a bitter request for a coffin to be ready in early spring. he thinks about the way it's almost winter now, the air turning crisp, and he wonders what in your life has you so angry and yet so practical about death.

he thinks of you for days, weeks, idlily waiting to hear the voice again. he dreams of it, sometimes wakes from a stone sleep to your bitter tenor, the clear catch of tears in your throat, but it's always a memory. he finds himself wandering the city for you, searching through churches, reverent houses of worship that you might be hiding away in. he doesn't expect to find your voice ringing out clear as day across the crowded room of a museum, full of life and joy and the picture of health.

he finds a way to speak to you, he's practiced in the art of conversation, of seduction even when the end goal isn't sex. he just wants to know you, to hear your pretty prayer in person, to understand your voice just a little and why in the world you were praying to him and not god himself like everyone else. in the midst of many, he makes a space for you both alone, the connection and the pull immediate and essential.

for a while, you make him smile, laugh, relax, he feels more at ease and more like a person than he ever would have expected. he doesn't understand you or your prayer though, not until you cough painfully, fitfully into your sleeve and he sees the bright kiss of blood at the corner of your lips. he never imagined you sick, but he supposes it makes sense. in all the versions of meeting you he imagined, this outcome wasn’t one he ever entertained.

he's never watched someone he's loved die before, at least not since his first life, and shamefully he barely remembers the names of his family from then. but somehow he knows he'll remember yours, the way he aches is altogether new and even though he knows it would be better to watch over you from afar, he just can't. and it doesn't help that you keeps finding your way to him around every corner of the city, coincidence after coincidence. so easy to joke about how it must be fate when it is in fact fate, pulling you tightly together and tying the knot tight.

he allows himself to love you then, and you allow yourself one last, good thing. he never lies about who and what he is, and you never really believe him, for all you know he's just a figment of your imagination. a hallucination from one of your tumors like the doctor warned you about. you think if cancer can give you one gift before dying, at least it's him.

for a little while yunho thinks his purpose in falling from grace was to love you, after all you prayed to him, no matter how bitterly. but he understands the truth the moment he meets your daughter, the moment he realizes his purpose for you is much more than momentary, final happiness.

and so he carries you forward through those final months, easing your pain and your giving you one last chance at real, lasting love. and he helps ease you into the other side, his promises whispered tearfully into your hair, that he'll see you again but only after he stays by her side. your child's own guardian angel, happy to watch over her and guide her until it's her time to come home too.

and of course, that means he has to wait. you both do, but he's already waited, even when he didn't know what he was waiting for.

#this is straight rambling #but i know i can commit to writing this fic #so please have a wildly fleshed out idea #honeyhotteoks updates #yunho brain rot #cw cancer #cw death #but like i’m so sorry yunho is prime soulmates fic fodder #like red thread of fate!!!!!!

149 notes · View notes

christinarowie332 · 1 year ago

Text

stupid kids in love

part three to “stupid horny fucks”

warnings : angst , SMUT !!!! , kinda fluff . sub chris if u squint . cock warming . m! receiving , f!riding . SMUTTTTTTTT

—————-

“what?” i cut him off , it feels like a punch to the gut . a thousand different things race my mind , the loudest drowning the rest out . what the fuck does that mean .

“look i don’t fucking know what to say . it was a stupid thing to do i know but you don’t understand, i have literally been fucking fighting myself with the knowledge that i am literally obsessed with you . i’m talking like … i can’t actually imagine myself with someone that isn’t you , and i know u shouldn’t have a one time fuck with a friend or someone your in love with but i fucking did , and i’m sorry that i made it awkward and i’m sorry you don’t feel the same and i’m sorry i didn’t tell u before and i’m sorry that i don’t fucking regret it .” chris finishes his incessant ramble and i’m stood frozen . literally everything he has just said was insane . like it feels like a dream . maybe a nightmare.

“chris”

“and i’m sorry that it happened the way it did , i feel like fucking shit knowing that was your first time and it was bad , i wish i could go back and stop myself . i’m so fucking sorry” he cuts me off , basically pleading with me . i wouldn’t be suprised if he got down on his knees and started praying. with all of his apologies ,all i can think about is holding him , he has absolutely nothing to be sorry for , i feel the exact same as he does. so why the fuck am i still frozen. WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL FROZEN .

“chris i love you”

“please just hear me out- wait what” he cuts himself off and meets my eyes . his eyebrows soften before they furrow in confusion. i step forward , taking his face in my hands , searching each of his eyes , watching the tears that were flowing over his cheeks stop . i didn’t notice until now ive been doing the same , they pool on my chin , dripping down my collarbones and soothing the same place he had kissed me a week ago .

“chris i have loved you for years . don’t u dare apologize for anything, i was insecure and overthinking. i don’t regret the sex if you don’t , it was fucking perfect. please don’t run away now .” i say quietly, i silently pray he understands. that he believes me .

“u were the one who ran away” he says , refusing to meet my eyes , it was as if he thought that if he looked up , i would disappear. i grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me , his usual confidence gone in my grip . “and i will spend forever trying to make it up to you chris .” i reply , my lip shaking under my teeth as i try and hold back a sob , he needs me as much as i need him . he’s wanted me as long as i’ve wanted him . i have nothing to worry about .

we stay in silence for a while , before i tug him forward into me . his arms latching around me tighter then ever . i’m not going anywhere, i want to say . but the pressure of his body against mine finally silences the voice in my head , i completely melt in his grip . the scent of his cologne and just him flood my senses as my face rubs against the soft material of his sweatshirt .

he tilts my head to look at him , the blue of his eyes almost gone as the darkness of my hallway makes him seem like a shadow . almost unreal to look at . but he is real . i know this because his lips touch mine in a way they never have before , slowly melting into his touch as his tongue softly caresses mine , his hands move from my back . slowly trailing to my face as he pulls me closer , deepening the kiss impossibly closer . i kiss him back with the same amount of passion. no . love . that’s the only word for how his lips move against mine . how his hand moves to my neck, his thumb brushing against my pulsing veins . he could have his hands wrapped around my neck and i would trust him . i would let him squeeze the last breath of air in my lungs just to have this be my last memory.

i walk him to the wall , my lips never leaving his , his back hits it and as soon as it does he flips us around , pinning my back against the cold object . his body is basically attached to mine as he presses his pelvis to me, slowly rolling his hips against mine as i match the movement. our pace quickens , the soft kiss turns into a hungry one , soft groans as we explore each others body like the first time , his hand reaches towards my thigh and trails towards my knee, lifting my leg as i wrap it around his waist . my hand that was once on his face makes it to his chest as i push him towards my living room , never once breaking contact with his lips .

the moment i feel him hault and hit the edge of the couch , i push him down . immediately straddling his lap and pushing his hair back through my fingers , feeling the soft strands gently slide over my skin . i re-attach our lips , he pulls away but i chase his lips still looking for contact . “y/n this isn’t-“ i kiss him again , cutting him off but he moves back and swerves my attempt to carry on .”y/n listen to me “ i look from his lips up to him, “i need you to know that this isn’t the only think i want . it’s not just for the sex , i want you . i need you. it’s always been you . i should have said that before but i was just-“

“stop apologizing.” i say putting my hands on his chest to i can see him properly, “chris , we were stupid horny fucks , it was both of us , i don’t fucking regret it so just kiss me!” within a second of my words leaving my throat, his lips were on mine again . his hands travel to my ass , lifting me as i grind against him , my hands grab my t-shirt , lifting it over my head . his eyes fly to my chest , before dunking his head into the skin and sucking dark marks into it making my head throw back and my hand to grab his messy hair . after a few seconds i tug on the brunette strands , making his lips detach from my throat and look at me with the most attractive expression i’ve ever seen . his lips were plump and pink, along with his nose and cheeks, his eyes droopy and black as his pupils dilate . his lips were slightly parted so i took the chance to slide my thumb against his bottom lip , pulling it down and watching him squirm underneath my core , feeling his very hard dick against my clothes .

“for someone who doesn’t care about the sex , your little friend sure does …” i whisper while moving my hand to his face , tracing his cheek bone with my thumb gently . moving my hips against the hard object prodding at my pelvis . he whines slightly at the movement, making my lips turn into a smirk , producing a breathy laugh from him . “are you okay with this?” i ask playing with the hem of his shirt , asking to take it off , he nods and starts to help me . i smack his hand , resulting in a very confused look from him , i ignore him and pull it over his head , throwing it to the ground and getting off his lap to kneel in front of the couch. “and …are you okay with this ?” i ask looking up at him through my eyelashes , putting two fingers under the band of his sweatpants , running it across the ragged elastic material . he nods quickly and i take my hand away . “chris , words please baby” i say sitting on my heels and waiting for him to answer me .

“yes, fuck please” he says , letting out the air he was holding in anticipation. i smile at him and place my fingers under the band again , pulling them down . he raises his hips letting the sweatpants free for me too move down his legs , letting them pool around his feet . my hand ghosts over his cock , slowly moving up and down the material of his boxers , feeling him twitch . ”please” he breathes out . “please what?” i reply , loving the power this gave me . i could practically feel the pool between my legs , it should be teasing him but all it’s doing is making me wetter . he doesn’t need to know that though .

“touch . please just touch me y/n” he says , attempting to pull his boxers down. i take the fabric from his hands and pulling it down the rest of the way . his dick springs up and almost hits me in the face , making us both laugh, but he quickly gets serious when i grab his dick with my hand and spit down on the tip . his head throws back , shakey breaths and whines from his throat as i kiss his tip , tongue rolling around the sensitive skin . i take half of him in my mouth, letting my hand work the rest . slowly sliding my head up and down his dick , my lips rolling over his veins as he takes my hair into a makeshift ponytail and pushes he down further . my nails drag into his skin as i try not to gag as his tip hits the back of my throat , leaving red marks down his thigh , lewd sounds coming from both of us as i moan around his cock.

he pulls me up by my hair arruptly , my chest sliding against his dick as i come up , making him shutter and whimper. “what?” i ask , thinking i did something wrong or that he was in pain, “i was literally about to cum down your throat?” he says breathlessly, tilting his head slightly and furrowing his eyebrows .

“and u think i didn’t want that?” i ask as confused as him . he just relaxes and smirks, looking down at my lips and kissing me slowly . i pull away , pushing my sweatpants and my underwear down together , wanting more then anything to feel him inside of me , i straddle him again , letting my folds slide against his dick . he grabs his dick and slides the tip up and down . “jesus y/n” he says , referring to the fact i am basically fucking dripping at this point , i just roll my eyes and change the subject, “you ready?” i say , he smiles . “shouldn’t i be the one saying that?” i just tilt my head at his words , raising my eyebrows. “yes y/n” he continues .

as soon as the words leave his mouth i sink down on him , too fast . i can literally feel myself burn , he notices and kisses my lips again , brushing the hair from my face with one hand , wrapping the other around my waist to lift me up . “you okay” he speaks with concern , i humm in reply and slowly start to lift myself on him . slowly the pain turns to pleasure. feeling him deep inside of me . rolling my hips to get a deeper feeling , i drop my head to the crook of his neck leaving open mouthed kisses on the skin , breathing heavy and letting soft moans fall from my lips as he starts to thrust upwards . his hands are on my waist , before moving to my ass , helping me lift myself on his dick , he grips it hard enough to leave bruises , but the feeling in my stomach overshadows that pain as i feel the knot slowly start to gain more tension.

“chris , mmh, fuck” i breathe out before putting my hands on his chest and pushing myself up to look at him .”chris- FUCK … chris i’m close.” he lets out a strained moan , before nodding frantically and bringing his hand down to my clit , running fast circles on the bundle of nerves . my nails dig into his chest as i half-ball my fists and run them down his chest . he bites his lip harshly , attempting to muffle his own noises, but ultimately the sounds that leave his throat are breathy groans as his dick twitches inside of me .

the room that encapsulates us are filled will loud grunts and high pitched moans as we both completely undone around each other . i clench around him after i feel his warmth shoot inside of me , painting my insides white as i come almost straight after him . a string of curses leave our mouths before i collapse on his chest. listening to his quickened heart beat in my ears , feeling his hands rub up and down my breath as we both come down from our highs .

after a while i go to get up but he stops me . “is anyone home tonight?” he asks me , running his fingers through my sweat drowned hair .

“no why?” i ask , relaxing into his touch . “let’s just sleep like this” he says grabbing a blanket and covering us both on the sofa . i nod and lie back down on his chest , resting my head on his shoulder , breathing in his scent on his neck . he grabs he around my shoulders and wraps his legs around me , swinging us to the side so we can lie down on the sofa properly. his dick slides out slightly so i take the opportunity to wrap my legs around him and push myself closer to him . he lets out a small whimper at the sensitivity and i giggle , apologize and kiss his neck as i get comfortable against his body again .

“hope you know we’re defo not gonna be friends after this” he says , making me look up to him .”ur my girl now , you know that?” he says smiling and placing a small kiss to my forehead .

“yeah i’d fucking think so”

—————

hope i did y’all proud ☝🏻 i feel like im going to hell for writing this .

—

taglist:

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kvtie444@kenzieiskoolaid @urmyslxt @chrisenthusiast @mattslolita @iheart2021chris @parkerssecrets @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @paper-crab @daddyslilchickenfingers @strniohoeee @ermdontmindthisaccount @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lustfulslxt @lunarsturniolo @chrisolivia4l @freshlovehacker @its-jennarose @kitaysworld @liz-stxrn @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @flowerxbunnie @mattsbratt @slut4chr1s @oversturn @mbbsgf @fredswh0re @nickenthusiast

230 notes · View notes

princessfbi · 8 months ago

Note

Cuddling with caretaker in a warm shower/bath + buddie

Buck shuddered against him, making the water ripple around them in tiny waves against the porcelain of the tub. The smallest of whimpers croaked past dry swollen lips and Eddie shushed the noise as it puffed against the hollow skin of his throat.

“I know, baby,” he said, dipping the washcloth into the water before squeezing it at the base of Buck’s shoulders so the water would cascade down his spine.

Eddie had tried to talk Buck into letting him stay out on the side so he could have the complete space of the tub for his long limbs to curl into. But one choked plea and a pair of red rimmed, exhausted blue eyes had had Eddie stripping off his clothes and joining him. Buck had barely let Eddie get situated before he turned on his front and curled into Eddie’s chest, shivering from the fever induced chill that had been wrecking his system for over forty-eight hours.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Buck so sick. Worry had prickled under his skin and latched on with nettles so he couldn’t shake it off, practically drawing blood the longer and longer Buck’s fever raged on.

At least he wasn’t heaving though. Not that Eddie thought he could. Buck had barely been able to stand let alone work up the bile and empty air and the very few sips of water he’d managed to get down.

His stomach, however, hadn’t seemed to get the picture.

Every chance Buck drifted off to sleep had been interrupted with a whine and a curl of his body. He’d thought the hot bath would help. Or, if anything, would allow Buck’s body to unclench so he wasn’t in so much pain!

It had worked for a while. Eddie’s butt had gone numb and the water lukewarm that he’d had to add some more hot water by stretching up to the turn the faucet with his toe. But Buck had relaxed against his chest and hid his too cold nose against the base of Eddie’s throat. Eddie had kept up his ministrations, trickling water down his back and sweeping his hands so he could give him just a little bit of warmth; so he could take the pain away for just a little bit longer. Eventually, Buck had drifted and if he hadn’t been asleep then he’d at least gotten close. Eddie would’ve happily stayed there for ever.

Buck twitched against him and Eddie braced himself for the worst of it. His arm was half way out of the tub to grab the trash can he’d pulled over before they got in. Eddie locked down the panic in his throat that wanted to claw its way to his heart with all the racing thoughts in his head.

No. No please. He can’t keep doing this. He needs these fluids. He’s already suffered enough. Please. Please. Please!

He’d promised Buck no hospital but that creeping realization that the very real possibility that he may have to break that promise very soon was getting closer and closer each second Buck didn’t get better.

Buck pressed his face into the hollow of Eddie’s throat, stiffening like he was frozen in time, and Eddie waited.

There wasn’t much else he could do. Not without IVs and people with more medical knowledge than he had under his belt.

But then Buck sighed and he sagged further into Eddie’s as the water shifted around them.

Eddie pressed a kiss against Buck’s head and dunked the washcloth back into the water.

“It’s okay,” Eddie said as he curled an arm around Buck and squeezed out the water over Buck’s spine. Buck whimpered again as he burrowed impossibly close and settled deeper into Eddie’s hold. “It’s okay.”

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #my fic writing #Buddie fic #writing talk #prompt game #royal decree #hatamighijyab

144 notes · View notes

rollingsins · 2 years ago

Text

all hers, part xviii

summary: R and the Scooby-gang put into place their Ghostface trap.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, violence, murder.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: thought it was time for the GF reveal! were you right? wrong? idk, let me know!

You make it to the school in the passenger seat of Sam’s car without speaking the entire journey.

You feel hollow. Like the world is crumbling around you, and Sam must feel it too. Her grip on the wheel is tight, sturdy, like she knows exactly what she has to do now.

What you both have to do now.

Get him. Kill him. For Tara.

Mindy’s waiting outside the school when you pull up.

She peers into the backseat, looking for Tara, looking a little confused when she can find her.

“Where’s Tara?” Mindy asks.

Sam brushes her off.

“Change of plan. Tara isn’t coming. It’s just us.”

Mindy’s eyes widen.

“Sam,” She says, voice slow. Her eyes dart to you, “We can’t do this without Tara.”

“Tara isn’t coming,” Sam stresses, “And we need to do this. For Tara, do you understand?”

Mindy blinks. She fidgets with her phone.

“I’m going to call her first and check.” She eyes you, no doubt terrified of the consequence if something were to happen to you. Tara isn’t shy about her love for you, and she certainly isn’t shy about what would happen to anyone who ever hurt you.

“She’s been arrested,” You say, voice impatient, “She won’t pick up. The only way to help her is to catch this guy.”

Mindy gawps.

“She’s been arrested?”

“There’s no time,” Sam says, urgently, “Mindy, come on. YN, go to detention.”

She puts her hands on your shoulders, squeezes tight.

“And good luck.”

The plan is so stupidly simple, yet there are about a hundred ways it can go wrong.

You run through them on your way to detention, mind whirling, barely having the strength to put one foot in front of the other.

Firstly, the band of so-called Ghost-face protectors is possibly the worst collaboration of people in the entire school to do the job. Chad’s a meathead. Liv, his ditzy companion. Mindy is all ludicrous theories and useless horror film knowledge, and you’re either so small or so weak your hundred pound, five foot one girlfriend can put you on your back without so much as breaking a sweat.

Your only saving grace, it seems, is Sam.

You’d left her with Mindy, shotgun in hand, dressed in a tank top and a pair of old ripped jeans, looking very much like she’s about to rip through a horde of zombies, rather than take on a single Ghostface.

The only bright side to this awful situation is you no longer have to worry about Tara at the end of Ghostface’s knife. But the alternative - Tara locked in a jail cell for the rest of her life, is almost as bad.

Principal Garcia greets you, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else on his Saturday off. Sam had called ahead about Tara and he either doesn’t care, or can’t be bothered to ask how she is.

Instead, he sits at the front of the classroom, peering down at a newspaper through his spectacles as you settle into the front desk, nervously tapping your foot against the ground.

Your eyes draw to the clock on the wall.

The quiet click. The sound of Principal Garcia flipping his newspaper every now and then. Your heart is in your throat and it’s pounding so loud it drowns out almost everything else.

This has to work.

It if doesn’t - you’re fucked.

You look behind you, to the closets lining the back of the room and pray Chad and Liv are already in there. You have one of Sam’s handguns in your backpack. You keep it on your lap, resting your hand on it, needing it close.

Minutes pass.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

No sign of Ghostface.

Your eyes glance up at the clock once more.

You swallow. Start to think maybe this entire foolhardy plan is all for nothing.

And then you see it.

Through the crack of glass in the door, the bone-white of the mask. The long, black mouth. The hood. And before you can so much as cry out - Ghostface is ramming into the classroom, his knife raised.

You scream.

Principal Garcia’s head jerks around.

Ghostface’s movements are steady, calculated. He rushes forward and in one easy swing, he slashes his knife towards Principal Garcia and slashes through his raised forearm.

“Sam!” You cry out.

Ghostface’s head whips around to look at you. Principal Garcia crumbles to the ground, gasping, holding his bloodied arm.

The cabinets burst open.

Chad and Liv stumble out. Chad lets out what can only be described as a war-cry and charges forward, taking Ghostface off guard and tackling him to the ground.

You stand, hands shaky as you reach for the pistol in your backpack. You click the safety off and raise it. Chad has Ghostface pinned down. The knife in his hands clatters to the ground.

You squint, heart pounding as you try to find the shot. But their bodies are entwined, Chad’s grip on Ghostface lessening slightly as Ghostface juts his head upwards and smacks it into Chad’s.

Chad cries out.

Ghostface musters the strength to shake Chad off.

You fire out a shot.

But your grip isn’t steady. Your aim all over the place. The bullet whizzes past Ghostface and lodges itself into the blackboard.

Ghostface reaches for his knife and stands. He’s tall, menacing. He steps closer.

“Sam!” You cry out.

The mask tilts. The knife in his hands gleaming. He takes another step closer, confident. Like he knows you’ll miss again.

“Don’t come any closer, asshole.” Liv says. You feel her behind you, at your shoulder, “Shoot him, YN!”

You fire again.

And miss.

All those practices with your Dad. All those bottles you’d blown clean open have nothing on the real thing. The adrenaline is too much. The fear of him is too much.

“Where’s your girlfriend, YN?” He taunts. He flashes the knife, stepping closer once more. Another step and he’d be close enough to disarm you. You stumble back, gun in your hand shaking madly.

“Guess she’s finally getting what she deserves,” He says, “And now I’m going to give you what you deserve.”

The classroom door rams open once again.

It draws both of your attention. It’s Sam, Mindy at her side. Her shotgun is drawn, her eyes blazing.

“Back up asshole,” Sam says, voice even. Her hand isn’t shaking, she’s calm. Steady. You know she won’t miss.

“Take off that mask and I won’t blow you bit from bit,” She says. She moves a little closer.

If Ghostface knows he’s cornered, he doesn’t act like it. He turns from you like you’re not a threat, looks over to Sam and tuts at her.

“Sam, Sam, Sam.” Ghostface says, “So protective. Such a good sister. I wonder if you’d still protect her if you knew. If you knew what sweet baby-Tara did in her spare time.”

Sam cocks the gun.

“Last chance,” She growls, “I won’t ask again.”

The adrenaline in your body evens out. Your heartbeat slows, the determination in your eyes settles. You steady your hands, knowing what you have to do.

Sam wants him alive. Sam wants him to see justice.

But if he’s alive, he can talk.

If he’s alive he’ll tell everyone what Tara’s done. And you can’t have that.

You lift your gun, only slightly. You close one eye, the way your Dad had taught you.

You feel ethereal. Out of body. This is what Tara must feel like when she does it. Vision tunneled, like there’s only one thing in the world you want to do.

And then you shoot a bullet right into Ghostface’s chest.

Liv screams.

The sound of the gun firing leaves your ears ringing.

Sam blinks, startled, as Ghostface stumbles back, clutching the bloodied hole in his chest.

He crumples to the ground, right next to Principal Garcia, gasping.

You charge forward, kicking the knife out of his hands.

There’s only one thing on your mind. You have to know who it is. You have to see his face before you blow it clean off.

You lean down and rip the mask off the fuckers face.

Liv gasps. Chad gawps.

Sam’s grip on the shotgun wavers.

You blink down in surprise.

It’s Richie.

His eyes are wild, hazy. Blood pours thick and fast out of the bullet wound in his chest. The look in his eyes is terrifying. Pure hatred, hatred of you. Hatred of Tara. His mouth opens like he wants to speak, but he’s too injured. He’s moments from death, you can see it in his face.

Sam almost drops her gun. She sinks back, caught only by Mindy who steadies her shoulders.

You swallow, mind racing.

All those nights with him, the games with him. He’d slept only doors down from you and Tara. Tara had been so insistent it was him and you hadn’t listened. Because it didn’t make sense.

Why?

He’s dead before he can give you an answer.

“Holy shit.” Chad murmurs. His hands grip Liv’s shoulders. He looks to you, wide-eyed, “Are you alright?”

There’s a frog in your throat. You clear it once, twice, unable to take your eyes off the man who had tormented you for the past few weeks.

“He didn’t get me.” You say. You suddenly remember Principal Garcia and look over to him. He’s clutching his arm, eyes as wide as everyone else's, but other than the gash, he looks okay.

“Sam,” You murmur, looking over to her.

Her face is white, no doubt her entire world crumbling around her.

“Sam, are you okay? We need to call the police.”

“They’re on their way,” Mindy says, rubbing Sam’s back, “I called them preemptively. Thought we might need them.”

You place your gun on one of the desks, move over to where Sam is sitting. You crouch down, rest your hands on the tops of Sam’s thighs.

“Sam,” You say, “It’s over. It’s going to be okay. This is going to save Tara.”

Sam blinks back at you but she’s barely there. She looks as though she might pass out.

“Sam,” You promise, “It’s over.”

The police arrive not five minutes later.

The Sheriff blazes through the halls, stares wide-eyed at Richie’s dead body, Ghostface mask clattered next to him.

They take your statements, one by one.

Mindy tells them in great detail about the plan to capture him. Principal Garcia is rushed off to hospital to treat his arm. Sam sits quietly, not uttering a word until she’s spoken to.

“My sister-” She says, voice hoarse. She’s blinking, slow, “You’re going to let her go now?”

The Sheriff pauses.

“It’s not that simple, Sam,” She says, “We have witnesses- she was the last person to see my son alive-”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Snaps Sam. She gestures to Richie’s body, “We’ve given you him. Clear as day. He framed my sister and you need to let her go.”

Sheriff Hicks considers this.

She looks over at Richie’s body, a little mournful, “If you’d kept him alive we could have interrogated him and cleared Tara’s name for good-”

“It was self-defense.” Liv says, immediately, “He came at YN and the only way she could protect herself was by killing him. Right guys?”

Mindy and Chad nod in unison.

Sheriff Hicks stares at you.

“Why would he kill my son?” She asks, and it’s urgent. Her eyes flitter, a mesh of grief and sorrow and confusion, “He didn’t even know him. Why would he kill him?”

“I don’t know.” You say. You swallow, “I’m sorry, Sheriff Hicks.”

She stares back at you a moment.

Then she’s nodding, blinking away the array of emotions she’d briefly allowed you to see.

“That’s for me to figure out,” She says. She looks over at Sam, “We’ll release Tara. But Sam - that doesn’t mean she still isn’t a suspect. If we find any link between them-”

“There’s no link.” Sam says, “My sister is innocent.”

The Sheriff nods.

“I’ll call the station.”

She moves over to speak to another officer. The relief on Sam’s face is palpable. You squeeze her thigh, mirror her relief with yours.

Tara’s coming home. You’d given the police what they wanted - a suspect to pin the murders on. She’d come home and you’d kiss her and hold her and never let her go again. Your veins flood with dopamine, the nicest high you could possibly imagine.

Tara’s safe.

But Mindy's frowning. You move over to her, frowning a little.

“What is it?” You ask.

Mindy turns to you, the look in her eyes urgent.

“Richie was there that night,” She says, “The night Tara was attacked. He was there with you and he wasn’t Ghostface. Not that night.”

You blink.

Mindy seizes your arm.

“There’s two, YN,” She says, “There’s fucking two of them.”

And your blood runs cold.

#all hers #ghostface!tara #mine #fanfic #scream vi #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader

596 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 2 years ago

Text

Ghosts

[Waiting For A Lifetime IV] Part 1 2 3 4 ?

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader + Aemond Targaryen x Reader + others (;

Summary: Ghosts will ride on to haunt you. Ghosts will come from your past, carrying a holy axe. Ghosts will taunt you you. Ghosts will come from your your memories, intent on burning the bridges at last.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, Modern AU, smut (biting, hair pulling, but its honestly its vanilla, crying [they get pretty emotional], vaginal penetration, cream pie, cock warming), surface level knowledge on asoiaf lore, internet translated high valyrian, angst, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: welcome my meowmeows today we die- i i mean dine 😃 i say MDNI but its at the very end so once you reach that part, you can always choose not to read it. please keep in mind that I have little knowledge about any asoiaf lore so if you would like to correct me, have at me Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @pearlstiare @llovinjoonie @sabrina6272827 @ayamenimthiriel @comicsol1999 @fictionalcomforts @mirandastuckinthe80s @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @panagiasikelia @mlwriting5 @bibli0thecary @ateliefloresdaprimavera @margaglitterdeath @fan-goddess @bibli0thecary @iamlost @queenofshinigamis @thebullship @slavyanskiyahui

"What are you doing?"

I look out the balcony. A wind blows across my body. My frilly lingerie flows in the wind.

"Come back inside, it's cold."

I lean on the fence. I look down at the view of Dorne as far as the eye could see. I release a breath.

I hear my name get spoken. It was no alias. No made up identity. It was my name. He calls out my name.

"I'm not cold," I mutter, mostly to myself.

A hand comes around my waist. I sigh as I am pulled in against a warm body. He hisses and presses his lips on my head, "you're ice cold, baby."

I shake my head, refusing to lean against him, "the sun hasn't shone yet. What do you expect the whether to be at this time?

He pushes my hair back and leans in to kiss my neck. His stubble scratches my skin. His deep voice utters, "I'll make you tea and breakfast..." both hands come to my stomach as he pulls me closer, "then toast, or waffles, or pancakes, or bac-"

He flinches and tightens his hold on me when there is a loud crash from the street below. He pulls away from me to check what happen. I don't look, instead I go inside.

"Fucking car crash," he calls out as I walk over to his bedroom, the bedroom that I had been staying in for far too long.

When I get there, I begin to pack my things and dress up. I catch my face in the mirror as I put on my pants. I freeze because of it. I trace the scars on my chest, from a dagger, I look at the marks at the curve of my jaw, from a sword, then I look at my hands, calloused centuries of memories. I feel hollow... hollower. I am reminded of my loneliness. I was devoid of purpose.

I look over my shoulder when I hear him call my name again. I hastily put the rest of my clothes on.

My purpose was not with him.

I shove clothes in my bag and zip it close.

He could not give me purpose.

I exit the bedroom before he can enter, and I head for the door. He catches my arm and stops me before I can walk any father. He says my name. I ignore him. He tugs my arm desperately, just how he repeats my name. I look at him, stoic, "I have to go."

His thick brows furrow. His jaw clenches. He shakes his head. He tightens his grip on my arm and steps forward, "I'm going to make you your fav-"

"I can't do this anymore, Bobby," I mutter sharply under my breath.

He freezes. I pull my arm away from him. I clutch my bag and face him fully, "our time is up."

He shakes his head. He places his hands on his hips. He calms his breathing. He speaks lowly, "stay for breakfast."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "you have been nothing but-"

"No."

"-kind, and sweet, and caring-"

"No. Please. No!"

"-and you are reason why I have gotten the closest I have to feeling love like this after such a long time-"

Bobby mutters my name and walks over to me. He clutches my bag and urges me toward him, "and I can show you more. Please, please just-"

I press my fingers on his lips. I shake my head and look at his glassy eyes. I brush back the short dark hairs by his forehead as I continue to disagree, "you deserve better than this."

"No I-"

"You deserve someone who's going to love you back."

"I don't want someone to love me back!" He grabs my shoulders, "I just want you."

I mutter his name but he does not hear it as he talks over me with a million offers, a million solutions, a million things he could and would do, so long as he could keep me.

I release my bag and clutch his shirt. I clench my jaw as tears leave my eyes at the sight of the ones streaming down his face. I release a sigh and lean into him. I silence him by claiming his mouth with my own. It is sad, it is desperate, it is salted with tears.

He pulls me against his chest. He does it with much vigor, intent on trapping me against his chest. He rubs my back and chases my mouth like it was his lifeline. He pushes me back. I let him push me back. He seals me against the wall and his arms, but then he dig his fingers into my waist band.

"Bobby-" I catch his wrists.

"Please," he mutters, kissing me again, "I'm good at his. I'm good at this... can make you feel good. Please."

I push him away before he can undo the button.

He whimpers. His voice cracks, "please- please, I can make you love me."

I shake my head. I ghost my fingertips on his temple, "not in this lifetime," I touch my lips on his cheek for the final time, "goodbye, Bobby."

I snap to my side, reeling out of my thoughts when I hear someone cough. I am back in reality, evidence was the sight of King Viserys' raised brows. I shrug and turn back to the artifact hung on the wall, "Dornish art to me is..." I brush away the memory that flooded my brain as I offered a smile to the man beside me, "heart ache and heat."

Viserys chuckles as he glances at the display, "that doesn't sound very enthusiastic. Are you not a fan of the Dornes?"

I release a breath, "I speak this with nothing but honesty," I raise my hands, "but I am biased to the aesthetics of the Targaryen dynasty."

The king laughs, "spoken like a true poet."

I press my lips into a soft smile, "well, I am a lover of many arts, my king." I motion to the exit of the exhibit, "perhaps, I think, you would enjoy this area of the museum much more, your majesty."

I lead the king (and his bodyguards) to the next section of the place. Immediately, the king reacts to the sight of the massive dragon skull in the middle of the room. He laughs as he nears the thing. I smile at the sight of his excited face.

"Balerion," the king says.

I tail after him as he moves to the inscription for the object, "indeed. The Black Dread, mount of King Aegon the first, King Maegor the first, Princess Aerea, and King Viserys the first."

The king chuckles under his breath as he shakes his head, "skoros iā ossȳngnon ziry would emagon issare."

What a terror he would have been.

I nod my head and look at the skull, "a fearsome and terrorizing beauty indeed."

Viserys turns to me just as I motion to the walls and begin to ramble about the history of it all, particularly nerding out over the massive painting depicting dragons, Targaryen princes, and civil war.

"You need not remind me of the history of my ancestors, pet," he says, walking up beside me, with his hands behind his back, "what I am more interested in is the rest of your tale with the prince."

I turn to Viserys and give him a smile and shrug, "as I said your grace, I have recounted all the memories I've had with your brother, prince Daemon the eighth."

The king makes a face, "huh," he raises a brow and narrows his eyes, "I don't suppose you have memories with prince Daemon the seventh then?"

I chuckle, "no," I shake my head, turning back to the painting, "only with Daemon the first."

The king laughs under his breath and turns to the painting as well.

"Oh yes I do hope you're enjoying yourself, brother."

Before I could react to the words that were spoken, I am pulled back and kissed on the neck. I turn from the painting, one of the many that visualized the Dance of the Dragons, then over my shoulder about the same time Viserys does.

"Daemon-" the king barks, eyes looking out to room, warry of everyone around. He does not continue when he hears the prince pipe up to me, "did he do anything unsavory to you, my love?"

This time, both Viserys and I speak his name, albeit starkly contrasting.

"Daemon," I mutter, as I try to push him away, "please, we are out in public. Some-"

"I don't give a fuck," Daemon cuts me off, ripping me back into him, "answer the question."

"Daemon," Viserys grumbles, stepping close, "unhand her."

"No!" Daemon snaps, shooting a look of daggers to his brother.

I gasp as I press my fingers to his lips. I slowly move away from him. "My love please," I whine, "the king has been nothing but kind to me and all he is asking for you to conduct you-"

"I will not have anyone, even the king, separate me from my bride," he yanks me close to him, arm coming around my shoulders.

My hands clutch his arms.

At that moment, because of how it reflected the light, Viserys spots the silver ring on his brother's bride. His eyes twitches as he rethinks the story of the personal vows. He scoffs, eyes darting back up to Daemon, "you do realize doing this makes her life more difficult."

Daemon turns to his brother, lips curling into a smile, although he was not amused by the thought even a fraction, "well then let me take her to Dragonston-"

"Keep your voice down," Viserys hisses, stepping closer.

Daemon pushes me behind him and moves towards the king, "lo ao sagon olvie gaomagon lēda aōha urnēptre hen kustikāne naejot ñuha ābrazȳrys, ao sȳrje sagon jāre sir."

If you're quite done with your show of strength to my wife, you best be going now.

"Daemon," I call out

Viserys makes a face as he scoffs. He shakes his head, "I'm doing this to protect you, Daemon."

"Well I don't want your protection," he mutters, "I can protect myself. I can protect her," he quips, "what I need is your-"

"My what?" Viserys cuts, "my blind obedience to your wishes?" He lets out another scoff, "perhaps you should have been born first and become king."

Daemon holds his tongue. This is why Viserys will never know that the word his baby brother meant to say was blessing.

Viserys pulls away from Daemon and masks his expression rather quickly when he hears one of the bodyguards tell off some people from trying to enter this part of the exhibit and for attempting to take pictures.

I watch as the lines on Daemon's face tighten. I watch as he presses his lips together in tension where Viserys loosens his jaw and takes a breath.

The king turns around, clapping his hands together, putting on a grin, "well, if I must leave, then I should have my photo be taken with the staff of the museum." He turns to me, "would you be a dear and invite your colleagues over for a photo?"

Daemon turns to me as Viserys points, "I should like one with Balerion."

I smile and nod, "of course, your grace."

When I move off to round up the museum personnel, Daemon grabs my arm and knits his brows. He presses his lips into a pleading frown and makes up for the space between us.

I sigh and shake my head, "calm down," I mutter in High Valyrian. I reach out for his cheek and brush his skin, "nothing will happen with me. I will be back soon."

Viserys knits his brows as he watches Daemon mutter pleas in their mother tongue not to be left alone. He feels a sting in his heart at the desperation of his brother. He is deeply disturbed by everything.

He then thinks about the admission he heard earlier, about when Daemon wandered off drunk and arrived at his 'wife's' home, nothing but actual sleeping happened. He wonders if Daemon will lose interest once they share a bed.

I sigh when Daemon steals a kiss from my lips. I brush his hair back and give him a smile before I walk off to do my business. Daemon refuses to release my hand until the very last moment. He leaves his arm hanging in the air as he watches me walk away.

Viserys watches Daemon watches me.

"Brother," Viserys says, "I am genuinely concerned for you."

Daemon turns to him, all the softness in his expression fading. He pettily ignores the king and turns to the painting on the wall. He crosses his arms and stares blankly.

The elder of the two sighs and beholds the same painting before him. Viserys thinks about the artistry but only for a moment because he beholds the fury of the dragons, the fury of the princes, the fire and the blood. He looks upon the legacy of his house, the strife of his kin, the romanticization of it all. Then he looks upon his brother. He looks at how his violet eyes glistened with the light from the room, and yet the light in his eyes was not there.

And he looked again when their picture was taken, how he smiled softly at the camera as he stood next to whom he was so adamant to be around. Viserys saw the change.

Daemon places his arm over both me and one other employee. I turn to Bertha as she grins and says, "the prince has his arm on our shoulders."

I grin back at her as Daemon smiles at me, "well, I must constantly be surrounded have a beautiful woman in my arm," he turns to Bertha, "now I have two."

Bertha giggles as I shake my head.

I turn to Aemond to my right. He is rigid beside me, and so pull him close and offer a smile. He mumbles under his breath, "I can do something if you're not uncomfortable with having your photo taken."

I give him a quick smile and shake my head, "it'll be fine."

Aemond clenches his jaw. He turns away just before Daemon shoots him a look.

"Alright everyone," the photographer says, "big smile in 3, 2, 1."

The photo ends up on the news, on the TV, on the radio, on the internet, on the magazines, on the newspaper.

King Viserys and Prince Daemon honor Museum of Ice and Fire with a visit in line with upcoming Cultural Arts Celebration

The Blonde Brothers reunite with a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire in honor of incoming Cultural Arts Celebration to be held next week.

Targaryens storm the Museum of Ice and Fire, leaving everyone swooning and saluting

Prince Daemon flirts with local museum curator during a visit to Museum of Ice and Fire

Upon reading seeing the photos attached to one of the many headlines tied to that day, Bobby drops his mug and misses the table, causing it to crash and break and spill all over the floor. He hisses as the hot coffee splashes on his leg and yet he pays no more than a second's thought on it as he leans into his computer and clicks the link on the screen.

He stares at the photograph of the prince with his arm over two women, one of which he knew for she was his ghost, his love, his heartbreak and heat.

He lets out a shaky breath then pushes himself off his desk chair. He grabs his phone and calls a contact, biting his fingernails as he did so.

"Hell-"

"Martell," he says, which is enough of a formality you could ever get out of him at this point, "I need you to pull out some old files and redo some research for me."

Alternatively, Aegon was hammering his head over and over again on his table as he wasted the little time he had on break by obsessing over the articles he saw on the internet.

He wasn't hungry anyway.

No, that was a lie. He was starving, but he already finished his snack after stuffing the fish and chips he had in his mouth far too quickly for anyone's good. He hadn't even realized he finished it, nor that he was eating, really, upon until he looked to his empty plate with shock washing over.

Now he had just made himself miserable and didn't feel any fuller than he was before eating.

He looks at the time and laughs bitterly to himself. This was supposed to be the time his saving grace came, but he knew no one was coming today.

He messages his brother again. Scrolling up from the first message he sent today down to the last.

DUDE WTF THE ROYAL FAMILY IS AT YOUR JOB? BRUH BRUH brush bruh AEMOND THE HELL IS HAPPENING oh is it the king wtf is the king doing there THE BLOND BITHCES ARE THERE aemond are you dead?????????? AEMOND WAHT THE FUCK Link attached WHAT THE FUCK YOU SITTING THERE NEXT TO HER Link attached Link attached Link attached AEMOND YOU IDIOT BITCH ASS CUNT RESPOND TO ME i hope youre miserable i hope you see them make out again can you ask her if shes coming ............ i know she wont but do it anyway fuck you bitch Image Attatched

"Quit flippin' on ya phone and get back to work boy," Aegon's boss calls as he enters the storage room, "breaks over."

Aegon stands and nods, "yeah, boss."

Aemond sorely ignored his phone as it blew up. It was bad enough that his head was plagued with the images of a doting couple sneaking glances and touches of each other, he did the right thing by putting his phone on silent.

He was currently on chapter 15 of the book he found entitled Blood Magic, Soul Ties, & Rebirth. In truth, it was nothing like he expected it to be. It was written more like a diary rather than a document like he had expected. It was all written in the perspective of the author, much like the tomes of the old history of Westeros, but, in his opinion, not at all academic in nature. Upon seeing there were parts that spilled into fantastical accounts Aemond understood why this book was still very much under review in the museum, and not somewhere in the national library. What exactly was it?

The chapters would start with personal ire:

Eman suffered rōvēgrī va se [account] hen [magic] se [ash]. Nyke ilimagho se [loss] hen mirre whom nyke jorrāelagon. Nyke [scorn] nykēla syt se [mercy] [exchanged] syt ñuha [soul], skore nyke ojūdan. Gaoman daor jaelagon naejot glaesagon, yn nyke glaesagon syt zirȳla.

I have suffered greatly on the [account] of [magic] and [ash]. I mourn the [loss] of all whom I love. I [scorn] myself for the [mercy] [exchanged] for my [soul], which I lost. I do not wish to live, but I live for him.

And then would go about to explain the process of a certain spell or incantation, all of which involve the spilling of blood, be it animal or human.

Se [spell] syt ease hen riña sikagon. Issa [recommended] bona gaomā bisy [month] iā [less] gō se sikagon hen aōha riña. Kesā jorrāelagon ānogar hen iā [elk], iā molry hen iā [elk], lanta [hooves] hen iā [elk], ānogar hen iā atroksia, ampa [feathers] hen iā atroksia. Istia perform se [following] [incantation] rȳ se zōbrie bantio.

The [spell] for ease of child birth. It is [recommended] that you do this one [month] or [less] before the birth of your child. You will need blood of an [elk], a horn of an [elk], two [hooves] of an [elk], blood of an owl, ten [feathers] of an owl. You must perform the [following] [incantation] at the dark of night.

Finally ending with ominous warnings that tread the line between a word of caution and a threat.

Sagon [warned] bona se [cost] hen ānogar [magic] ēza zȳha [weight] isse ānogar. Daor [amount] hen āeksion kessa [save] ao hen se [consequences] hen skore ao jaelagon naejot [reap]. Sagon [warned] bona ao daor undo līr iksis gaomagon Se ao daor [exact] līr kessa sagon se [payment] syt aōha actions.

Be [warned] that the [cost] of the blood [magic] has its [weight] in blood. No [amount] of gold will [save] you from the [consequences] of which you wish to [reap.] Be [warned] that you cannot undo that which is done and you cannot [exact] that which will be the [payment] for your actions.

Aemond narrows his brows and cocks his head at a particularly random hark.

Eman issare maghatan arlī naejot ābrar ondoso se dārilaros se oh skorkydoso nyke jaelagon [instead] naejot emagon rhēdan zirȳla rȳ se remȳti hen mēre hen [heavens] iā sesīr rȳ mēre hen [hells]. Oh valzȳrys [would] ao [loathe] nyke syt [reaping] nykēla hen qrimbrōstan irudy ao teptan nyke?

I have been brought back to life by the prince and oh how I wish [instead] to have met him at the gates of one of the [heavens] or even at one of the [hells]. Oh husband [would] you [loathe] me for [reaping] myself of the cursed gift you gave me?

He straightens in his seat when someone comes in and announces he's done for the day and that Aemond should probably get going too. He nods his head in regard and puts the largish book down, debating whether or not anyone would look for it if he took it home with him.

He checks the time on his phone, swiping away his million notifications from his brother, then raises a brow at the email notification he got from his cousin, Alicent.

All the while the king and queen were discussing Daemon over dinner.

Aemma grins, "so you've given him your blessing!"

"Lovie, it's like you've not heard a word I said," Viserys says as he licks the side of his knife, which was covered in sauce.

"Visy, I heard you loud and clear, and I'm glad that you've opened up your heart for this," she smiles as she cuts up her meat.

The king rolls his eyes, "I gave him an ultimatum."

"Exactly," the queen shakes her head and repeats her husband's words, "1 week, 1 month, 3 months, half a year until a years passed. If he still feels the same as he does now, then I shall be attending a wedding at Dragonstone by this time next year and my Rhaenyra can expect cousins most swiftly!"

He sighs and drops his cutlery, "my dear," he licks his lips, "I don't want you to get your hope up over something that could well not last."

Aemma eyes him darkly, "well you ought to not jinx it with you sourness."

"Aemma."

"Viserys," she places her own silverware down, "you told me yourself that you saw how his eyes lit up at the sight of her."

He rolls his jaw and leans back on his chair.

"You and your brother have may act like you're constantly at separate ends of pole, but I know that each time you snarl and snap at each other with fire at the back of your throat, neither of you care any less about the other."

Aemma presses her lips together as Viserys looks at her face. He sighs. He reaches out for her cheek, stroking her fair brows, memorizing the curve of her lips before leaning in to kiss her. He would be lost without his light, his Aemma. He wonders if, truly, that was how Daemon felt about this woman.

Well, Daemon let his actions speak louder than his words that night.

The moment we arrived to my home, after Daemon begrudgingly waited out my shift in one of the royal guard's car, I was immediately swarmed by him, him and his hands, his lips, his voice, his breath. Daemon caught me against him and refused to concede, to yield, or even to loosen he grip.

He barely even let me lock my front door on our way inside. I was glad I managed through his tender and eager, open mouthed attacks.

"Kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," Daemon mutters as he pulls me into him not even a second after letting me go to close the door. He shoves my hair off to the side and attacks my nape with kisses, leading me backward as he blindly navigated my home in the dark.

I hiss then chastise him with giggles when he runs into my lamp, "Daemon please."

"It's so fucking dark."

I pull away from him and take his hands that were clutching my torso, leading him off to my bedroom.

The moment I open the door, he charges at me with more kisses, this time, the light from the street lamps and the moon made it easier for him to navigate to the bed.

I release a sigh when he pushes me back on the mattress, chest pressed against mine, hands caressing and massaging every part of my body. He breathily repeats his words from earlier in between kisses, "kesā daor henujagon nyke arlī, ābrazȳrys," he begins to rip at my clothing, "iksā ñuhon," he heaves, "mirre ñuhon," he presses his forehead on mine, "ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon, ñuhon -"

You will not leave me again, wife. You are mine. All mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine.

I shift on my spot and sit up as I help Daemon undress me before he sequentially helps me undress himself.

I whimper as he pushes me back down and grabs my thighs. I squeak out a moan, catching his face in my hands, as he hovers over me.

I cry his name out when I feel him brush his hardened and pulsing length against me. He hisses as he looks down. His hands leave my thighs, one landing by my side, propping him up, the other coming to my wetness, stroking me there sweetly, "such a pretty girl, my love... so ready for me."

I whine as he amuses himself by fondling with my slick. He touches me as light as a ghost and teases my weeping entrance like a devious little boy, hellbent on making chaos of everything.

"Daemon."

"Shhhh," he leans in and licks my lips, "ivestragī nyke emagon ñuha kirimves." Let me have my fun.

I chase after his mouth but he pulls away too quickly, continuing to make a mess of me.

I bring my fingers to his nape, nails digging into his scalp, firmly tugging at his blonde locks. I plead, "Daemon."

He pacifies me with a kiss but does not cease his teasing ministrations. I moan when I feel his two digits barely sink into me. He laughs against our kiss and has to pull away from me all together, both hands sinking into the cushion by my sides, to calm himself down.

I huff in frustration and impatience at his deep chuckles. I decide to take matters into my own hands, literally, and shift beneath him, grabbing his thick member, easing him into me.

His amusement curdles into a moan at my touch. We both audibly react when he slowly sinks into me. He cusses where I call out his name. He breathes hotly against my neck as I wrap my arms around him and seal my legs around his waist.

He suddenly finds it in him to laugh again. He does so with much excitement.

And though I whimper at the feel of him jolting within me, I cannot help but feel a sense of contentment wave upon me. I rub my cheek against his head and scratch his scalp gently. We stay like this for a long while. I do not mind it, not really, I like him like this. But with every second that passed, it felt like my pulse was banging harder and harder.

I whine "ñuha jorrāelagon, kostilus dīnagon, nyke jorrāelagon ao sir" My love, please move, I need you right now.

Daemon chuckles and kisses my jaw, hands squeezing my thigh firmly as he slowly lifts his head up, "so impatient."

I rock my hips beneath him as I nod, "need you so bad."

Daemon obliges and begins to slowly thrust into me. He kisses my lips and makes a sound that is a laugh mixed with a moan, "I know, baby," he digs his nails into my flesh, "I know," he repeats more solemnly, "I need you too-- need you so badly."

My breath hitches when he picks up his pace. He quickens just a little bit, so subtly, and it grinds at my brain. Each time he moves, he exits wholly and enters fully, he stretches me out so nicely and fills me up so good.

I pant against his shoulder and sink my teeth into his muscle, licking and sucking at the area.

He moans at the feeling. He then shifts me in my spot, pushing me up, allowing himself more leverage from above me, making me cry out when he hits a part in me that touches seemingly every nerve of my body.

I screw my eyes shut and feel my eyes water at the sensation. I throw my head back and rip at his shoulder blades.

He huffs against me and continues in his pace, andante, taking his time to move from tip to hilt, savoring each moment, each stroke, each huff, each sigh, each whimper.

He continues like this. He is steady like this. He is beautiful like this.

My fingers and toes curl at the feel of him. My belly flutters. My breath strains. My mind fogs. All because of him, because of how I take in his scent, how I taste his skin, how I wrap around him.

"Dārilaros," I mutter against his ear, "ao ȳdra daor gīmigon skorkydoso olvie nyke bōsa naejot gaomagon ao hae bisa."

My prince, you don't know how much I long to keep you like this.

Daemon thrusts particularly deeply.

Tears pool at the corner of my eyes. Air catches in my throat. I choke on a sob as emotion floods through me. I am hit with this epiphany so very suddenly. I was, next moment, cathartic over the fact he was real, he was here, and he was mine. After all these years, after the dredging, after the lamenting, after the hurting, here he was, a sky above me, a sanctuary around me, a hearth inside me.

He loves on my face, peppering my skin with with kisses, "pār gaomagon nyke va ao," he presses his hands on my waist, knocking into me with forte, "umbagon lēda nyke," he moans against my lips, "sagon ñuha lenton,"

Then keep me on you, stay with me, be my home.

When my hands dart to his cheeks. Only then do I realize that he, too, was teary eyed as my thumbs find the dampness on his face. I open my eyes to look at him but shut close again when his mouth finds mine.

Daemon eases into his accelerando, gently and caringly thrusting faster and faster, staying deeper and deeper until he barely pulls out and he's just trapped into me.

He nips at my lip as I my hands dart to his hips, ripping at the skin there. He continues in his tight movements until he ultimately hooks his hands at the back of my knees and pushes my legs up, breaking into me vigorously until I couldn't think and I could only feel and scream out his name.

And as I climbed up to my high, I called out to him. And as he eased up into his, he called out to me.

And then it all comes crashing down. And then I can't breathe or move, I just tighten and whine and break against him.

And then I feel him follow suit. And then he looses his mind and his tempo, he just pounds and melts and falls into me.

And I feel my whole body burn, I feel my nerves rip into a symphony of pleasure. I feel his heat spill into me. I fill him fill me up until he's completely spent and even after that. I feel my body flinch around him. I feel him bottom out and run over in me. And I missed it. I missed this so much. I missed him so much. I missed him.

His erratic movements lull into slow tender one again, yet he doesn't cease his rocking until I'm shaking and wailing and dripping all over. I feel myself overflow with him, in both literal and metaphorical. I feel my whole body burn while he heaves atop me as he delicately touches down. He rests his entire weight on me; he's an invited and longed for blanket, a heaviness that I have dreamt of having pressed against me for so long.

I feel his heart hammering in his ribcage as mine beneath him did the same. His strangled breath echoes mine. My name spills out of his lips like a prayer. He nuzzles his face in the crook of my neck. His hands rub my legs that were wrapped around him. He was fastens them around his hips, as if my limbs were not tight enough, as if it was possible for him to move closer into me than he already was.

I cradle his head in my hands and adjust my face beside his.

"Avy jorrāelan," I speak softly against his ear, "eman jorrāelatan jeme ñuha ābrar se kessa jorrāelagon ao sesīr tolī."

I love you. I have loved you all my life and will love you even after.

Daemon responds with a kiss, with a rub of his nose, then with his words, "ñuha gevie lenton," he lifts his head up, sighing as he reached out to my cheek, "ñuha vok dārilaros."

Im that moment, I see a vague outline of his face even with through the darkness of my bedroom, but more than that, I hear the affection in his words. The sincerity locked in his voice, "syt ao ossēninna tolvie zaldrīzes, geron tolvie rizmun, iderēbagon tolvie rūklon, se jiōragon se olvie jelevre isse ñuha irosh sepār naejot sagon able naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion."

My breath hitches, "Dae-"

"Avy jorrāelan."

My beautiful home, my perfect princess, for you I will kill every dragon, walk every desert, pick every flower, and offer the very breath in my throat just to be able to see your face. I love you.

I feel tears rush down my face when I lean up and kiss him.

678 notes · View notes

pabtsblueliving · 2 years ago

Text

Hot Summer Georgia Nights

Really wanted to write this from the poll ( it had the most votes ) even though i left voting up for a few hours LOLLL

Here’s how you and Daryl met :) Enjoy <3 xoxo

warnings: mention of abuse, cigarette smoking, and slightest mention of drugs/alcohol.

Your sitting in the hot sun on the porch with Judith, sun beating down and the summer bugs chirping reminded you of those times that felt almost like yesterday.

You had known the Dixon brothers from the oldest boys endeavors; drugs, drinking, girls, and trucks. You never knew him well though, You had grown up a few homes down from them, and you were the same age as the youngest, Daryl.

You were in a lot of the same classes as Daryl in high school. He was quiet, reserved, has a few friends but never made himself too known. You often took walks around your neighborhood when the heat was too much to bear in your home, often walking by the Dixon residence…sneaking a peak at Daryl, crouched down next to a motorcycle with a cut-off button up shirt.

Not to his knowledge, at least then, you had always had a thing for him. His eyes, his spikey unruly hair, his muscles, his voice. Everything, You’d just been afraid of rejection.

There was a particularly sticky day, and luckily there was a public pool open during the summer a few blocks away from your home. You and some friends had to head over to beat the heat.

You were perched on a towel, feeling parched. Your two girlfriends face down, attempting to gain a sunkissed tan while sitting by the side of the pool.

“I'm gonna go grab a soda, you guys want?” You asked, putting your sunglasses on top of your head.

They both smiled and declined, thanking you. You adjusted your suit and made way to the snack bar. You were waiting in line when you saw him. Daryl. He was with his two other friends, heading your way. You looked over, then went back to paying for your soda.

You turned around to walk back to your friends when your and Daryls’ shoulders knocked together, your soda flying out of your hand. You sighed and knelt down and he turned around quickly.

“Sorr’ bout’ that…” He spoke quietly, he scratched the back of his head.

“No…I…Didnt see where I was going.” You said, a rose color spreading across your cheeks.

He looked towards his friends, they shook their heads and had a questionable look. Daryl looked towards you as you picked up your cup.

“Le’ me just…get you nother’ one. I owe you…” He dug his hands into the pockets of his swim trunks, pulling out a few dollar bills.

“Wait, no its ok seriously…I didnt wan-” He cut you off, handing you a new soda.

“I don’ mind” He gave you a small smile. You returned it.

“Thanks” You blinked and he continued on to his friends, and you did to yours.

A few hours later, you were on your porch, smoking a cigarette. You heard crashing and yelling a few houses down, you tried to look, but didnt feel like moving from your spot.

“...Yeah, and screw you asshole!” You heard a familiar voice yell, and then a door slam.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you took another drag turning your head, then you saw him under the street lights,

He gruffed and rubbed his eyes, then feeling your presence. He turned to you and walked over,

“Hey, could’ I git on’ of those?” He mumbled

“Yeah, sure” You gave him a smile and met him at the broken gate of your front yard.

You handed it to him, and gave him a light.

“Wait…I kno’ you.” He looked at you.

“You made me drop my soda” You chuckled

He shook his head and sighed, “Damn, yeh. Sorry bout’ that…” He blushed a bit and took another drag.

“Do you…” You pointed to your porch, “wanna sit?” You asked, this was a long shot.

He looked over to his house, then back to you, and looked down. He rocked on his feet. On the inside you screamed at him to say yes.

“Beats goin’ back there.” He mumbled. You smiled and opened the gate, letting him in. He sat on the steps.

You both sat, and smoked in silence before you spoke up.

“Ive seen you around, youre Merles brother right?” You asked

“Jesus, unfortunately…” He said, chucking his cigarette. “But uh…yeah, youre in my history class, I seen you too.” He said

“So you do recognize me…not just cause you spilled my soda…” You smirked a bit, and lit another cigarette, handing it to him.

“Yeah I guess, whatever.” He scoffed, and smiled a bit…

Present Day: Alexandria

“...Y/N…Y/N!” Daryl snapped his fingers.

You shook your head, “what?” you asked looking up at him, judith playing with a set of cars next to you.

“You here? You looked like you were on another planet.” He stated, taking a seat next to you.

“Yup, just…reminsiting.” You smiled, and Daryl gave you a sweet smile and gave you a kiss on the head.

“What? The heat reminding you of those hot summer georgia nights?” He raised an eyebrow.

You looked at him, and gave him a kiss.

“Exactly.” You smiled.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fancfiction #norman reedus #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl

242 notes · View notes

yanderespamton78 · 1 month ago

Text

okay wait i have a thing to say about folly

Disclaimer!!! I wrote this post before even knowing that The Cleave existed so if it seems odd then that's why

if everyone else has already caught onto this pls ignore me i tend to only realise these things after everyone else does but im sharing it nonetheless

okay so folly is evil. we can all agree upon that. she is NOT KIND.

but the other day i was thinking about her and started to wonder, what if shes really the victim here??

so if you look on the wiki you know that she works for MR/is in MR'S cult. But why? Its mentioned that she wanted something, although we dont know what. and there are a few bits of her dialogue that i find interesting.

THIS. this. very important. we KNOW that follys mask is broken, of course, but according the wiki theres a good chance that this genuinely had a negative effect on her. theres a comic that relates her "lacking a sense of self" to her mask falling off. although i cant actually find the comic its from as the source sited leads to a different folly comic uuhh its probably true also its what i based most of this off of.

and also ive found that folly does have a few weak spots. although most of the time she keeps up the mysterious dream parasite show up and she seems to also keep it up off screen (her killing melanie) you can sometimes see it slip off. or there are just some parts that make me scratch my hypothetical beard. eg:

this one may just be me going insane but the way she says "He's broken." seems kind of?? ooc?? she says it... kinda.. sentimentally?? maybe with shock?? MAYBE WITH EMPATHY???

ahem "The gospel of lies that 'goodness' gave me was a shell of real happiness" that kinda. makes me think. she tried to do the right thing BUT WAS BETRAYED

and finally THE ONE THAT REALLY MADE ME THINK.

SHE WASNT ALWAYS LIKE THIS

SHE WAS BETRAYED

what if this betrayal is what led to her mask breaking?? to her "losing her sense of self"??

and the thing i would like to end this off with

cults always target vulnerable people. people who are homeless, depressed, generally desperate, ect ect are more likely to buy into what youre selling because they have nothing to lose. and the brainwashing that happens in cults can be VERY effective if done right

what if Folly really is just a victim at the end of the day? She trusted someone, she tried to be good, but that didnt help her. this person shattered her mask, and caused her to lose herself. then MR steps in. It offers a solution to all of her problems, as long as she signs in to a feewww little terms. what if she acts the way she doesnt because shes been brainwashed into believing its the only way.

once again if everyone else has alreaady worked this out or this generally just sounds like insane ramblings please ignore me tbh i dont even like folly that much just i was thinking about it and i do have a shocking knowledge of cults. people dont just join cults for no reason they need to be desperate SO WHY IS FOLLY IN MR'S CULT

okay thank you if you read this goodbye :3

AHEM ONE MORE THING FOLLY IS BALD SHES BALD SHES BALD AND SHES TORTURING PEOPLE WHO HAVE HAIR /REF (gets pulled off stage by a giant hook)

#we're getting into the stage of obsession where im writing analysis posts now oh god #ugh i bet everyone else has already worked this out DONT CARE IM POSTING IT THIS IS IMPORTANT TO ME #folly #folly regretevator

16 notes · View notes

randomfoggytiger · 5 months ago

Text

Collector's Edition: Reworking Requiem and Mulder's Return (Part IV)

More Requiem AUs!

Loose chronological order below~

Katherinexx1's Miracle

He didn't notice it right away, but she had created this heart-shaped figure on her belly placing her hand next to his.

Pre-Requiem: Scully finds out the big news before Mulder leaves for Oregon again.

JET's (mulderscreek, tumblr, freeservers) Snippet Fic

She conceded, "So our track record has been iffy at best during the most recent Decembers. But last year wasn't too bad."

"Yeah, I think the highlight of the month was when I was attacked by zombies."

Pre-Requiem: There is no baby, and no abduction-- only Scully picking up Mulder during the holidays.

XPhileChai's Life is like a new case - you never know what you're gonna get.

She opened her eyes and met his. He saw the change in her eyes go from "calm and happy" to "oh, yeah, I'm in a car on a stakeout".

Pre-Requiem: Mulder rushes Scully to the hospital, where they discover she miscarried one of two babies.

@alsoablankslate/tabulaxrasa 's (LJ, tripod) Things Outside

The sun was setting, and the sky was a wide swath of indigo out the kitchen window. Sometimes it was very beautiful here. Summer here was like springtime in DC, maybe. How you were always conscious of it, of the rightness of the season, the perfect fit of area and temperature and color and the smell of the air.

They couldn't find out about the baby.

Pre-Requiem: Mulder is never abducted-- instead, he and Scully are put under house arrest.

@myownsuperintendent (Ao3)

“Marry Me” (Ao3)

He hadn’t expected her to say that soon, but he knows she means it. Her practicality makes him smile.

Pre-Requiem: Mulder recalls how he and Scully discovered her pregnancy before he left for Oregon; and decides to seal their partnership with a proposal.

Fic: “No Secrets” (Ao3)

“You could have died if I hadn’t gone back and looked at your medical records from last year. If I hadn’t figured out what was happening and how to reverse it. And you…you weren’t going to tell me?” Her voice is no longer even now, but she’s not yelling either; it sounds like all the air has gone out of her.

“I didn’t think there was anything we could do about it,” he says, but he realizes how stupid that is even as he’s saying it.

Post Requiem: Scully not only finds Mulder after his return but also heals his brain disease.

@drbedeliadumaurier/heartsfilthylesson's scully finds out she's pregnant before mulder leaves/isolated systems - Chapter 2

Beside her in a near-stranger’s living room, Mulder seems both somber and hopeful. He reaches for her hand and Scully knows his thoughts are filled with stolen ova and failed IVF and the child she lost and the one he’s not aware she’ll have. She needs to tell him.

Pre-Requiem: Scully knows, and decides to tell Mulder the news after her chills in Bellefleur.

Donna/donnah’s (Gossamer, mulderscreek) Alternatives

"I just, I just . . . I just hit the ground."

"Just lie still."

"Why is this happening to me?" He brushed a tear that escaped her eye and trailed down her cheek.

Requiem: Mulder drags Scully to the hospital.

Pattie’s Erlenmeyer Injustice

Not a day goes by that I don't think of the implications of this job, and especially this partnership. The knowledge that one or both of us might be killed or permanently injured in the line of duty hides in the backdrop, waiting to be cast and played out, by directors unknown.

Requiem: Mulder chooses to leave with the alien ship.

@tatooedlaura-blog/tatooedlaura/Laura Sprys's Oregon

The pull to go to them overwhelmed …

The need to join, to stand in the light, defied nature …

But he remained rooted in place.

Requiem: Mulder doesn't leave with the ship, and is panicked after receiving a panicked phone call from TLG.

xphilernj’s (Ao3, Two Close for Comfort) Find the Future - Chapter 1

Upon their arrival at Dulles International Airport in D.C., Mulder was fit to be tied and Skinner was ready to clamp the handcuffs on him and throw Mulder in the trunk of his car.

Requiem: Mulder rushes back to Scully’s side.

Maidenjedi's Would That I Could Travel Both

She held her breath as his arms wrapped around her, and felt his reluctance to leave her as much as his eagerness to go, to discover, to find the all-encompassing Truth.

Requiem: Amidst a selection of AUs, Mulder didn't get his answers but did have a happy ending.

Erin M. Blair’s The Blessing

He stood in the doorway of her hospital room and walked toward the chair by the bed. Pulling it as close to the bed as possible, he sat gingerly on the chair's edge, then gently held her hand in his.

Requiem: Scully floors Mulder with her pregnancy news.

bellefleur’s "Arms Wide Open"

I look over to see my partner's mother standing a few feet away from me, stock still and drained of color, with her hand covering her mouth. It's takes me a minute, but as I register the fact that her first sight was of me sitting in the hallway with my head in my hands, and then with obvious tear tracks on my face, I begin to comprehend her reaction. She must have immediately thought the worst.

Requiem: Mulder hears the news from Scully; and panics, fleeing the room. Maggie helps him get his head in the game.

dmwones's Anagrams

"We can attempt to stabilize Dana for as long as possible. Give her blood transfusions, and corticosteroids. One to treat the low platelets, the other to help the fetus' lungs mature. But it's not a cure. Her body is under duress and HELLP syndrome is life-threatening. We can maybe buy a few extra days. But you're going to have to make a decision."

Requiem: In one of many AUs, Mulder is never abducted; but Scully and their baby still suffer complications.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

27 notes · View notes

callibones · 2 months ago

Note

UM HI HI HI ITS ME. 🩸🟪 AND I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU I AM VERY SORRY!!!

this week ive been exceptionally busy. a lot of stuff has been piling up for me with university and work and it didnt really give me a lot of time to look at tumblr OR read the fics! ill get to them! i didnt forget i swear ive just been EXHAUSTED this message is just being pulled out of my ass since i didnt expect to write to you today so i dont have any topics planned to ask you about. i didnt wanna take the time to think of something because i didnt want it to seem like i was ignoring your poast (despite the fact you wouldve never known if i had seen it or not .. but MENTALLY i'd feel bad, you know?) but uh. yeah

i don't know how people talk. um. how are you? has your week been particularly busy? what DO you do outside of tumblogging actually .. im curious

OH AND ALSO i very much appreciate the backstory info you gave me on callibones. i MIGHT take inspiration from it for my fanart? maybee? and uh i will send that to you SOON! very soon. i guess in the meantime id just wanna polish it more before sending it to someone out of like. principle?

i looked through your friends blog.. i like the concept of a blood bag person thing. there were probably better ways of saying that but IDK!! once again though i think it is Extremely Drawable so i have a small request ..

and regarding CALCIFER .. i think i would appreciate a deity to deity chat. or an potential acolyte to deity chat or I Mean Ha Ha. and those pronouns are Pretty Cool if i do say so myself! im worried directly sending in an ask would be strange so since you said you were friends with them can you parrot my question? i rlly wanna know whether drawing fanart of their OC is okay. sorry what else. im going to try and plan my next correspondence out ASAP so ill probably go through the cedardivine post before the post you made with a ton of fics? just because the list is shorter. idk what ill do after that--maybe ill rank them or something and you can tell me how wrong my opinion is or something Haha! just kidding im always right. i create new truths as we speak. as im typing this im overwriting just a little bit more of the world's knowledge. im just cool and awesome like that. theres nothing else i can think of at the moment to ask you.. OH UM when you mentioned callyris i realized "hey wait dont i know a blog called that" and Look Who It Was! so thats neat i also think i found another blog that may be under your posession but i dont think i can ask about it at the front desk.. so when i message you in some other manner ill probably ask you about that! who knows i might even be Completely Wrong

well anyways sorry for the delay. it will probably take a while longer for me to compose my thoughts so the delay will continue but. idk. i hope this message isnt TOO INCOHERENT but again i am not proofreading at all for this one.

also im definitely using gooby forever now. thats great. what a peculiar phrase.

GOOBY!!!!

hi hi hi hi! i took a million years to get back to this so NEVER apologize or rush about sending me things. anon asks r a tough way to communicate cause i dont got an online indicator for u so i just gotta guess... and u dont got a notification for me! i hope u see this even tho its been a bit.

ive been busy too cause university's also piling up for ME. i'm gonna respond to this one first, and then i'll take a crack at your mysterious coded message! and then i have to do a million homework because grad school. outside of tumblogging im trying to destroy the world with the infinite power amulet, so i'm majoring in general supervillainy! and also urban planning

for the blood bag: @rigormarcy LOVES fanart. marcy, if u see this, respond with your ref, 'cause you have a super drawable OC! the fans wanna draw u so bad. So Bad.

u found another blog that might b me? omg.... here. how bout this. send me an ask with just the name and i wont publish the response. if youre REALLY curious. but youre probably right, because i invented every blog on tumblr GOOBY

#🩸🟪

4 notes · View notes

majesticwren · 9 months ago

Text

due to high demand - me. I'm high demand. this entire project is being written entirely for my pleasure, be warned I'm being extremely self-indulgent - I've decided to write a little prequel to the events that take place here. this is set in 2018 and is the beginning of Fletch x OFC. billy will have his own little prequel at some point. enjoy.

Trigger Warning/s: alcohol consumption, mention of addiction, mention of sex, mention of trauma, sexual harassment, swearing, OFC is her own trigger warning she is damaged goods and slightly toxic, kyle is a little baby, mark is being overprotective and extremely toxic sorry not sorry, angst, mainly friends to lovers/impossible relationship dynamics.

nuclear season: part I -> | part II -> | part III -> prequel: part II -> | part III -> | part IV -> Masterlist

January 2018

There was always something melancholically romantic about an empty venue after a show. Seeing a place that had been crowded, hot and loud for hours suddenly empty and silent had a particular bittersweet vibe to it.

Erika sat on one of the foldable chairs at ringside, one leg crossed over her knee, swinging her foot to the beat of the seconds, looking around as she waited. Trying to pass the time, she fiddled with a lock of her hair.

The lights of the venue were now all switched on, making the ring at the centre of the room look extremely surgical. A couple of RevPro workers were dismantling it, pulling the apron and starting to take down the ropes. Erika moved her attention to another person on the other side of the room who was folding up the chairs, ready to load them away.

Erika tapped her foot on the floor. It was sticky under the sole of her show because of the spilt over drinks. She took some time to count the abandoned plastic cups and forgotten items she could see all over the place, making it look like the crowd partied hard. Which wasn’t far from reality. They had a good crowd at the show that night and everyone seemed to have enjoyed themselves wrestlers and guests alike.

She was proud of many of the pictures she had taken. There was a content smile nested on her lips as she was aware she had probably made rent with that event.

There were many pros to working in wrestling. It was a career she hadn’t considered before, even though she had been around the scene for years since her brother was such a massive fan and had been wrestling already for over ten years. So, she had her fair bit of knowledge and was charmed by that world but had never thought it possible to make a career out of it.

Still, now she wasn’t entirely convinced her dream had come true. Somehow, she thought she didn’t deserve it and considered it a privilege. She had hurt and disappointed so many people before, too used to being a problematic teenager than this new responsible adult that Erika was convinced it was only a matter of time before she fell into her old habits again.

But, at the moment, she was enjoying doing what she was doing and paying her living doing liked most. Photography was her life. She loved taking pictures, framing moments and making them hers forever. Plus, her job was fun and granted her the possibility not only to travel and meet many people, but she got to do it all with her dear big brother.

The most important part of following that dream, though, was that it gave her the chance to leave Australia for good. She had followed Mark to the UK only for a few weeks now and yet she hadn’t missed home once. She was always convinced that remaining in Brisbane would have meant the withering of her. There was too much of her past there and she just knew she would have never escaped it.

But, no matter how far she travelled, there was a fear always hidden inside of her that painfully reminded her how easily she could have slipped and ruined her life again.

So easy. So tempting.

“Hey, there,”

She jumped, startled when she heard that voice so close. Erika gasped, placing a hand on her chest as her gaze distractedly lifted on the tall, slim boy approaching her.

“Sorry, mate, didn’t mean to scare ya,”

Erika focused her attention on Kyle and melted into a smile, shaking her head. “Please, don’t be sorry. I was miles away.”

He approached her with a soft smile crossing his fair features. He looked like an elf, with his sharp edges, high cheekbones and glimmering, light eyes. There was something about the boy she was attracted to like a magnet. She couldn’t explain it but she couldn’t take her attention off him either. Although she didn’t trust herself enough to let herself go in that feeling. She and boys weren’t a good match. Her past was full of bad decisions and she had no intention of making another one.

Especially with a pretty, sweet boy like Kyle seemed to be. Especially since he was so close to Mark not only as his colleague and team partner but being taken in like a little brother as well. She just couldn’t risk it.

“Can I sit?” He pointed at the chair to her side.

“Of course,” Erika nodded, trying to shake the cringe off herself. Her skin rippled in goosebumps only thinking about having him too close. She couldn’t think too clearly when he looked at her, which was just ridiculous.

He dropped his bag with his ring gear on the floor and fell heavily on the little chair distending his long legs. “So, what do you think about the show?”

“I think it was great!” Erika smiled, looking at him and damning herself for the excitement it gave her to share a moment alone with Kyle. She felt the butterflies in her stomach warming up. “That move you did,” she tried to regain focus, looking back on the ring, “off the top buckle? That was so good!”

“You think?” He wondered following her eyes to the ring. “I thought I landed badly and everyone noticed.”

“Well, if you did, I didn’t see it.” Erika didn’t mention how closely she was looking at his moves. She cleared her voice, lifting her professional camera. “I took a cool shot of your front flip mid-air, wanna see?”

“Hell yeah,” Kyle scooted closer, looking over her shoulder as she fiddled with her camera.

Erika tried her best to remain calm and not react to his closeness but it was hard. His scent was inebriating, he smelled of clean linen and lavender. It made her mouth water and her hands shake with the desire to push her face into his neck and inhale.

She shrugged off a shiver, concentrating on the dozens and dozens of pictures she was scrolling through and then smiled when she finally found the one, showing it to him from the small camera screen. “There it is. It will look a thousand times better once I develop it. But even like this, it looks pretty good.”

“Shit me,” Kyle attentively took her camera into his hands, handling it with care as he looked into the screen, examining the picture she took. “Is that how I look when I do it?”

Erika nodded. “Cool uh? You look very good.”

“Could I have a copy of the picture once you develop it?”

“Of course! I mean, I generally do give the guys I work for a hard copy and a file copy that I share with the wrestlers too. So, you’ll be good to go.”

“Can I have a look at the rest of the pictures?”

“Yes,” Erika cleared her voice, “I mean, I haven’t peaked through them so most of them will be off-focus or blurry but sure.”

As he pressed the little arrow button, starting to look at all the pictures she had taken of the evening, Erika slowly started to feel a warm feeling spread through her. She was suddenly fidgety, wondering what went on in his mind as he looked at what she could do. It was somehow intimate, showing to him. Erika’s pictures were used by companies and wrestlers alike on their socials, but no one knew it came from her, there. This felt like Kyle just had access to a very personal window of how she viewed the world.

“Wow, you are good at this,” Kyle smiled distractedly, still scrolling through her work. “These are so good.”

Erika blushed. And immediately froze, feeling panic settling in her nerves. She looked away, imposing herself to find some control over her emotions. She had never blushed before, not for a boy anyway.

“Thank you,” she pushed her hand out, hinting to him to give her back the camera. “It won’t take me long to get the pictures fixed up and printed, so you can see them once they are done.”

“Do you have a studio?” He wondered with interest stretching on the chairs by his side.

Erika shook her head. “I will in a few weeks. I am trying to get a lease on a tiny hole of an office from where I’ll be able to work. I am planning to have a proper dark room and maybe even a desk space to hire an assistant. But for now, I am doing it the old-fashioned way,”

“What’s that?”

“My laptop.” She explained shrugging, “It’s a bit of a hit or miss kind of job, sometimes it pays well, sometimes it doesn’t. But I think I can make it work better If I get access to an office space.”

“Like an investment.”

“Yes,” Erika smiled, appreciating his care to know details about her more than what she was supposed to. “Exactly that.”

“Are you coming out with us tonight?” He then wondered leaning his head to the side.

She felt his eyes on her and wanted to bask under his attention. She had never had a problem with that. Generally, she thrived when she was under the spotlight. She was a very confident young woman aware of her appearance. Maybe too much, sometimes. She had won many things, in the past, because of her pretty face. Especially hearts. She was used to having it her way, but when she decided she wanted someone there wasn’t escaping it. Except with Kyle felt different. She didn’t want to conquer him or win him over. She liked him. Not only his appearance, even though his large smile made her feel things she had never felt before. The real deal was the kindness of heart he had; he was so polite in the way he behaved, and he wore his heart on his sleeve and wasn’t apologetic about it.

Plus, he was spoiling her. Kyle made her feel seen and listened to in ways she wasn’t used to. Which said a lot about the relationships or situationships she had in the past.

And that was precisely why it was so dangerous to play with that fire and she did everything in her power to fight against it. She could see it would lead to ruin for all parties involved.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” She looked away, sadness settling in, aching in her chest.

She wanted to go. She wanted to spend some time socialising. She wanted to be around him. But precisely because he seemed to want her there, she was better off staying away from booze and pretty boys.

“What!? Really? There’s a darts tournament between the guys, sure you want to miss that? I mean not to brag, but I’d beat you at darts.” He winked.

Erika felt flushed. “I’d love that because I think I might be good a darts” she damned herself as soon as she said that, “But I have an early train in the morning. Can’t miss it.”

“Oh, I see. Well. that’s a shame,”

“Next time, maybe?”

“You are on.”

“Oi,” A deep, thunderous voice echoed through the empty venue. Both she and Kyle jumped on their seat, turning over to find Mark waiting. “Ready to go?”

Erika huffed, looking over at her brother studying them. He didn’t seem too happy and she knew why. So, even before he could say anything, she jumped up and grabbed her back and jacket, putting some distance with Kyle.

“What were you doing?” He wondered quietly once she was close.

Erika shrugged. “Nothing, we were waiting for you.”

Before he could say anything more, Kyle approached her side and the two exchanged a fist bump. Mark didn’t continue, but she could see the concern hiding in his gaze. And it hurt her.

Mark hid behind a smile as he welcomed the boy, “Hey, mate,” he was so affectionate to Kyle that it made her heartache. She was happy they met. Kyle was a good friend to her brother. But, again, that was yet another complication and another reason for her to stay as far from the Aussie as she could.

“I’m gonna head home,” she started, hinting at the door as she fixed her bag on her shoulder.

“Yeah?” Mark looked at her, “I thought you were coming to the pub?”

“Nah,” Erika shook her head. She wished she didn’t but her gaze wandered on Kyle briefly. “I am quite tired. I think it’s for the best.”

“Okay,” Mark pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead. “Grab a cab though. I don’t want you around the underground alone at this hour.”

“I’ll call one now. You boys go ahead and have fun. I’ll leave the light on in the hall for you when you come home.”

She watched them approaching the venue door. Mark pulled Kyle under his arm as they walked and they merged with some of the other wrestlers on the show that same night. A few of the boys waved goodbye at her before they left. Just then, she approached the bar counter, releasing a soft sigh.

“Hey,” she hinted at the barman cleaning up, “would you be so kind to call me a cab, mate?” She wasn’t even trying to hide her disappointment. Just thinking about all that she may be missing made her heartache. It felt like the more distance there was between her and Kyle, the more she hurt.

Pathetic. She had to snap out of that little crush and get over it. And fast.

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he stepped towards her, “can I get you a drink while you wait? On the house,” the boy winked at her. His flirtatious behaviour bounced right off her. His charm too, didn’t bother her.

“Nah, thank you, I am good.”

She could see the barman’s interest following her movements as he leaned on the counter in front of her. He was an attractive man, sure, and she had no doubt his pretty face and that little stunt of chatting up the ladies probably got him places before. She knew it all too well. She was it too. But even though she knew well how it worked and she felt like she should have been fluttered by his attention, maybe even intrigued, it just slid off her without making her feel a thing. If not slight discomfort.

Before he could say or ask something else, Kyle ran back in, approaching her. “Hey, Erika?”

“Yes?” She immediately turned towards him, not even noticing how much her heart and body moved for the Aussie. “What is it? You ok?”

“Yes, yeah,” he nodded, sliding a hand to the back of his neck. He was blushing so sweetly it made her think about strawberries. Though his eyes were bright and sharp as he looked at her. “I was wondering, could I have your number?”

Erika choked. She knew everything wrong with that. It was the same reason why she wasn’t allowing herself to go out. It was why she avoided being around the house alone with Fletch when Mark wasn’t around. It was why she had avoided being around him in general. Except when she didn’t and fell into whatever it was that attracted them like magnets.

It was stronger than her common sense, she was nodding even before she could think straight and kept being selfish as Kyle offered her his phone for her to type her number in.

He was smiling like an idiot. Or maybe it was her.

When he got his phone back, he held it like a trophy. “Thanks,”

“Don’t tell Mark,” She suggested, probably saying the first smart thing in a minute.

Kyle offered her the largest of smiles and then dashed off.

As he left, she felt all the warmth he brought with him leaving her body and making her feel empty.

“That little prick has balls,” the guy behind the bar chuckled.

Erika smiled, still looking at the door. “That he does.”

“So, how is it that a pretty girl like you is not going out celebrating with all those boys?”

Erika tapped her nails on the wood, starting to feel an itch under her skin. She wanted to be vague, she knew what was the polite, British way of just generally saying stuff without actually saying anything to strangers. But she was too tired for that too. Politeness hardly got her anywhere.

“Well, let me tell you,” She began, “Got a crush on that little prick,” she vaguely pointed at the door, “he is my brother’s best friend and I can’t afford to fuck that up so,” she huffed, “I am staying well clear and doing everything in my power to get over him.”

“But you just gave him your number.”

“Yes, I never said I was smart at it.”

The guy behind the bar smiled. “I’m Matt, by the way,”

“Erika,” she said as they shook hands.

“So, Erika,” he looked up at her, hitting her up with a gaze she was sure had conquered many hearts before, “Want some help forgetting about the little prick?”

The proper way was to politely decline, get a cab, go home and do her best to accept going to bed alone. That would have been the new adult, mature way to deal with the situation. She was well aware of what was expected of her. But still chose otherwise.

The comfort of her old ways, knowing exactly what would have happened and how she would have felt was much better than knowing how much she was going to be eaten up by regrets, alone, in her little room.

“What time do you get off?” She wondered melting into a smile.

She didn’t much care for the guy himself. But he offered a distraction and it seemed like a valid idea not to think about Kyle.

“Half an hour.”

She nodded and took a seat on one of the stools, “In that case, I’ll take that drink, thank you.”

February 2018

A few weeks later, Erika stood in the centre of the small room she could call an office.

The place was a little dishevelled. It was dark, cold and a little dump; the rent was overpriced, but it was hers. The walls could have done with a new touch of paint, and she was convinced the space would have looked much more welcoming and personal with pictures hanging up; the carpet seriously needed a deep cleaning, and the sad curtains by the windows needed to be retired, but she still looked at it with the most pride.

A smile crossed her lips, and her heart was leaping out of her chest as she toyed with the set of keys the agency gave her. She still didn’t feel secure enough to trust her dream coming true, but that was a pretty big step forward compared to where she had come from only six months before.

“Hey-o,” she recognised Kyle’s voice immediately as he chirped from the entrance door, “anybody in there? Erika?”

Her heart jumped out of her chest.

“Come on in!” She welcomed him, skipping back to the door where she found the Aussie. “What are you doing here?”

As soon as he saw her, he whipped out a massive smile and pulled, from behind his back, a big bunch of colourful flowers and a bottle of bubbles. “Well, I thought the situation required celebrating!” He offered her his presents.

Erika’s chest tightened as she took the flowers and brought them up so she could smell them. Then she took the bottle too, looking at it with interest. She melted into a sweet smile, immediately damning herself for what she was feeling.

Whatever tied her to Kyle only got stronger and deeper day by day. She tried to fight it. She tried to deflect and lie to herself, pretending that ignoring it all was enough to make it disappear. And yet, Kyle was constantly there to remind her how wrong she was.

She just needed to look at him to feel a magnetism pulling her towards him, making her hands tremble with the need to touch him. But it was a constant battle she fought, leaving her feeling cold and empty every time she denied herself her wish.

And yet, he kept coming. He kept being there, around her, everywhere, even when they were far from each other, she still felt him. Every day he made it a point to wish her good morning and good night. He’d ask her about her day and listen with interest to everything she had to say. He’d make her laugh. He’d give her compliments. He was just present in her life. How she wished she could say confidently they were only friends.

But friends didn’t desperately wish to kiss each other.

Thinking about that made her realise she was looking at his lips and she had to force herself off the thought.

“Thank you, Fletch, this is so sweet of you,” she looked up at him, leaning her head to the side, “I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Why did you think I asked you the address of this place?” He chuckled, “I wanted to make sure you welcomed this new chapter with the right energy.”

Erika smiled, absolutely smitten by him and his selfless, unashamed caring.

“Thank you,” before she could even think clearly and stop herself, she leaned in for a hug. Her intention was for it to be quick and polite. That was what friends did, wasn’t it? She couldn’t be further from the truth.

Kyle welcomed her with a soft hold and, by the time she wrapped her arms loosely around his waist and pressed her face into his chest, the world stopped spinning.

Erika tightened her hold around him, only for Kyle to do the same, taking the initiative to lean his chin on the top of her head, cradling her softly.

There was no salvation after that for her. Erika was toasted. Her heart was beating so fast inside her chest that she was sure he could feel it too. Her stomach twisted as warmth flooded through her, fuzzing her thoughts and waking up a hunger, a desire in her lower abdomen that would only hurt with every second she wouldn’t give into it.

“I wanted to be here for you, today,” he gave away, brushing a soft, intimate kiss on her temple.

Erika looked up at him and Kyle’s bright gaze fell into hers as he dived into her eyes. He was so close his scent was inebriating her senses. He looked so pretty she couldn’t take it.

“Did you come alone?”

Kyle nodded, “Your brother doesn’t even know I am here.”

Erika felt so dirty for lying to Mark.

They had kept a low profile, pretending nothing was going on and they hadn’t spent the past weeks texting. Sometimes they’d text from across the same room and Mark would take the piss out of Kyle for texting his “little lady”, not knowing she was the one receiving his interest. They made a little joke out of it, but Erika didn’t find it funny.

She hated shutting Mark out. He knew everything about her and could read her like a book. But he didn’t know that part. She was terrified of his reaction if he had known what was going on between her and Kyle, which was nothing. She lied to herself too, constantly. Even though the second she found herself around Kyle it was undeniable she was the most clueless of them all.

Erika gulped, looking down at Kyle’s lips again, unable not to, his mouth was so attractive to her. Especially when he was so close.

Kyle dared to cup her face in his palms. Erika sighed, closing her eyes and letting herself go in his soft hold. His hands were big and warm. And she was dying to feel them all over her.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered, so close to her face she tasted his breath on her tongue. A hot shiver crossed her. “I like you, Erika. Been liking you a while.”

“Kyle,” she tried to find some common sense, although only the idea of refusing him ripped her chest apart. “We can’t.”

“Why?”

“Mark,” she was still holding the flowers and the bottle of bubbly in her hands, and even though she was trying to fight for her life not to succumb to him, she didn’t even dare to move an inch away. “He’d never approve.”

“Leave him to me. I am sure if there’s someone he’d like to be with his sister, that would be me.”

“No, Kyle, it’s not you the one he wouldn’t approve of. It’s me. I am not good for you,”

“Let me decide that.”

“You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me,”

“Then tell me. I want to know you.”

Erika chuckled dryly, quickly dismissing him. He would have run away, as far as possible from her if he had known half of the things she did.

“I mean it,” he continued, “I want to know everything about you.”

“You make it so hard,” she whispered, moulding herself in his hold as Kyle softly caressed her jawline.

“I am not hearing a good reason to stop.” He leaned in, brushing his lips on her forehead, “Tell me no and I’ll fuck off. But if you want it too,” as he moved, hovering above her, Erika moved her head, raising her chin only so their lips would touch. “Then,” he continued, whispering so close to her mouth it gave her goosebumps.

Before he could continue, Erika took the worst decision of her life and, dropping the flowers on the floor, she grabbed him by his t-shirt and pulled him down in a kiss, desperately clinging onto him and releasing everything she had stopped herself from feeling for so long. Selfishly taking everything she wanted from him.

Kyle blindly closed the door behind him and then his arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him. His hands ran across her body, feeling her curves, grabbing on her clothes, only to pull her tighter against him.

Unapologetically, Kyle slipped a hand into her hair grabbing a handful and made her bend underneath him, deepening their kiss. As soon as their tongues crossed and his flavour exploded into her mouth, Erika released a soft moan, feeling her body waking up completely.

However, before she could slip into deeper waters of desire and future regrets, Erika gathered the strength to push him off herself.

“Kyle, please stop,” her breath was heavy as she kept her hand on his chest, not to keep him far from her but to feel him.

“Did I do something wrong?” He wondered, checking she was ok.

Erika shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts. Because the only wrong she could identify in that entire situation was the distance between them.

She had a taste. She scratched the itch. That was going to be it. It was going to have to be enough.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. We can’t happen. Please,” her heart shattered into a million pieces seeing the look he gave her. “Please,” she whispered again, almost getting lost in his eyes.

Kyle accepted her choice and let her go, taking two steps back. He leaned picking up the flowers and passed them over to her, shrugging awkwardly. “Here, take them.”

She felt defeated as she accepted the flowers back. She couldn’t bear the idea of seeing him leave and didn’t want to accept them being done. It was supposed to be the way, just severing their little fling or whatever, but she was stupid and selfish.

“Do you want a little tour?” She wondered, hoping Kyle would indulge her.

He didn’t disappoint and melted into a gentle smile, nodding. “I’d love to.”

They held hands as she showed him around, telling him everything about how she envisioned her studio.

March 2018

Erika stood ringside, her trusted camera at hand as she watched the match through its lenses.

The crowd was hot tonight. They clapped and booed, chanted and roared and were generally super involved in the matches, which was something she always loved to see.

Erika moved around the ring, taking every occasion to grab a shot, just like she always did, capturing as much of the energy in the ring as she could.

The two boys going at it right now were new in the company, she never met them before, but that didn’t change a single thing in the way the crowd perceived them. The heel was doing his job, flipping everyone off at any given occasion only to get everyone’s boos up. And the other, being the good guy he was, was there to make him regret it every time.

How she loved wrestling. It was such a theatrical, highly athletic pantomime.

The match ended with the good guy pinning the heel. The crowd went wild. Erika too, smiled, as she kept taking her shots of the guy celebrating.

Then, as the guys cleared out and the announcer moved back to the ring, starting to explain the next match on the mic, Erika moved too towards the wrestlers’ entrance, readying her camera to capture Aussie Open’s entrance.

Of course, she was working for the wrestling company and her work needed to be equally good for all the participants in the events. But she couldn’t help herself from having favourites. The number of pictures she had taken of Kyle and her brother that she had never sold because they were candid shots of two guys and had nothing to do with wrestling was embarrassing. Especially of Kyle’s. She loved taking his pictures. But that was a secret, of course.

Still, she patiently waited there, camera at hand, kneeling to take a good shot of them coming out in their new shiny, matchy gear.

Aussie Open was announced and their music started as they rolled out, basking in the crowd's welcome.

Erika smiled behind the camera, taking her pictures as the two posed and then moved with them to the ring.

Mark and Kyle slipped through the ropes and circled the apron, looking into the room, and pointing at people in the crowd only to get a reaction. They were both talking some shit either to the crowd or to each other, fully committed to their role.

Then, as Kyle confidently strode by the corner she was hanging around, he broke character one moment to look down at her, offering her one of his sweet smiles. “Hey, baby,”

Erika took a picture of him, grabbing that moment for herself. He called her baby now. Not always, but when he did it made her feel warm all over. It was so hard for her not to reach out and touch him.

Mark approached Kyle and landed a heavy hand on his shoulder, bringing him to turn as the announcer presented their competitors. Erika moved around the ring again, towards the entrance, ready to go back to being a hundred per cent professional.

She kneeled by the crowd, exchanging a quick, polite smile with a couple of guys by her side who seemed to be enjoying the show just like everyone else. She leaned ready to take her shots.

And then Erika was stricken. Nothing could have prepared her for the frosty feeling taking over her as the heavy hand of a stranger landed on her ass, giving her an unrequired smack. She felt the stranger’s touch straight into her stomach and it made her twitch as his fingers dared to squeeze on her.

She turned quickly towards him and raised her camera, taking a shot of his face. She acted out of instinct, not thinking about the consequences. It was the only thing she could consciously think of doing. No words were coming out. Not even anger. Just pure, disgusted surprise.

“Hey,” he angrily confronted her, trying to grab her camera, “Cancel that, you bitch. I haven’t permitted you to take a picture of my face.”

She wanted to say she hadn’t permitted him to squeeze her ass either. It was on the tip of her tongue. And yet. Nothing came out.

Erika stepped away, hiding her camera behind her back, feeling something close to fear choke her as the guy stood up, ready to chase her. She truly thought he was going to hurt her.

“Hey, hey, you prick,” Kyle shouted, jumping off the ring, and intervening. By then, everyone’s attention was on what was happening there.

Mark followed Kyle as they both stepped in between Erika and the guy in the crowd, who was proud and drunk enough to face them, even when he was no match for either of the Aussies.

“I’ll break that hand of yours, you cunt,” Mark barked.

Kyle stepped in between them, shielding Erika with his body. “You ok?” He touched her face, looking down at her.

Erika didn’t refuse him. Her hands travelled to his wrists, as she moulded under his touch appreciating his closeness. “Yes,” she huffed, her eyes escaping Kyle’s as she looked back at her brother, making sure he didn’t do anything stupid. “I’m ok,” She then tapped on Mark’s shoulder, “Don’t bother,” she suggested, even though the guys seemed to be ecstatic to receive attention. “Mark? Please, leave it alone.”

“Maybe you should get her to wear something more covering. You can’t blame me.” The guy was drunk. He was mumbling his nonsense only looking for a fight and Erika hated that she didn’t want her brother to give it to him. “When they look like sluts, I say they look for it-”

There was no stopping Mark after that.

Before she could even think about trying and stop him from jumping to the guy’s throat, Kyle scooped her away, trapping her in between his arms, and protecting her. This time, she hid in between his arms, closing her eyes. She didn’t want to see what she had caused.

The crowd shouted so loudly it made her head hurt.

The announcer, from the ring called for security that came through to break the fight and to kick out the people who disturbed the show.

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

Kyle shook his head, kissing her forehead tenderly. “Don’t you dare to apologise,” he chanted to her ear, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Later on, that same evening the mood was off.

After the incident, going back to the regular flow of the show had been difficult. While Kyle and Mark were supposed the be heels and treated as such, the crowd started loving them after they displayed chivalry. Everyone kept asking her if she was ok from that point on. And she hated it. Erika just hid behind her camera the rest of the evening, pretending detached politeness, but didn’t ever move from ringside.

Now they were gathered for a drink and some late food at a local pub just around the corner from the venue where the show took place. Erika sat in her booth enjoying a plate of steaming hot chips as she watched Kyle play pool with two of the boys from the show.

When he smiled, she smiled too, wondering what had been said to make him laugh.

Mark heavily dropped himself next to her, placing his beer and a massive portion of nachos, blocking her view.

“Hey,” she welcomed him with a smile.

Mark was deadly serious. “I know something is happening between you and Kyle.”

“OK?” Erika frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be vague with me, I’ve suspected it for a while. I see the way you two look at each other. And tonight, with the way he protected you-”

“Mark,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “You did the same thing.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me the way you two were hugging was nothing.”

She didn’t look at him. “It was just a hug.”

“I love you. I will always love you. You know that. And believe me, it hurts me to say this. I know I’m being an ass right now, but I want you to stay away from Kyle.”

Every word that came out of Mark’s mouth slashed through her like a knife. It was a painful reminder of everything she had been, everything she had done. Everything her brother had to fix for her. Not leaving any space for the person she was desperately trying to become.

“Why?” She challenged him, gulping down her pain, and looking straight into his eyes.

“You know why. I can’t stand the idea of watching you hurt him. Because you will. Maybe not willingly. But he doesn’t deserve it all the same.”

Erika's chest ached. She looked away, trying to hide away her pain. She wanted to shout and cry and kick, but couldn’t. Somehow, she trusted her brother more than how she trusted herself. It was easier to accept that he must have been right about her. It must be like he said. She wasn’t good for Kyle and would have never been good.

“I mean it, Erika. I’d break the world for you. But I’d do the same for Kyle.”

“You are breaking me right now,” she shook her head and then looked back at him, anger flooding through her gaze, lighting her up. “You think I haven’t tried to stay away? See? I knew you’d end up telling me this and I did. Stayed as far as I could. Pretty difficult to do when we live together, travel together and work together,” Erika shrugged. “But it is as you said. I obviously can’t offer anything better to someone than failure.”

“That’s not what I meant,”

“Don’t you dare try and justify your cruelty. You said it, loud and clear. I am not good enough for Kyle. Thank you, brother, for reminding me.”

She grabbed her stuff and got up, storming out.

Something stirred inside of her. It was an old, familiar feeling of how she was used to dealing with strong emotions from before. Part of her was trying so hard to be better. But she didn’t know how when even her brother, her only anchor in that world, didn’t believe in her.

Anger and pain were easy to suppress or ignore when she was self-destructing, taking everyone else down with her in the process.

#kyle fletcher #kyle fletcher smut #kyle fletcher x reader #kyle fletcher x ofc #aew fanfiction #kyle fletcher fanfic

19 notes · View notes