#My terrible translation could make it worse

[unfortunate-brat]

Forbidden Fruit

winchester!twins x latina!reader

synopsis: when adam and eve stumbled into the garden of eden, god had only one rule. the fruit that came from the tree, with it’s beautiful green leaves and delicious looking fruit was forbidden. neither one would eat it, or they shall face a consequence worse than death. yet when both twins meet you, a face far too beautiful for a school like this, they face the same temptation that adam and eve once did.

series warnings: smut, angst, jealousy, dark themes, sibling rivalry

yazzy's comments:okay i do have to give credit to @floralscented because their stanford!dean fics came out before my own. i love a good twins au and love triangle. this will not have chapters in order as each piece can be read as a standalone. also ave and I were discussing this so they are also credited for the brain rot we had with these fuckers.

jackles crew: @deansbeer / @soldiersgirl / @stereotypicalbarbie

18+, must have age in bio to interact. minors and ageless accounts will be blocked !!

follow @unfortunate-bratfics for just new posted imagines !!

you met the boys in the fall at stanford during orientation, noting their similar features and contradicting behaviors.

michael, the oldest, was reserved. didn’t speak much and often used his eyes to communicate. his clothes were ironed and tailored to every single inch of skin. glasses perched on his freckled nose, pillows of pink pursed into a thin line unless he turned them upside down for a brief frown. hair parted and combed neatly to the side. you’d find him in the library, in his own reserved study room getting a head start on other assignments or reading greek history. book in one hand and an apple in another. the man was a health freak.

dean, the youngest of the two was more outgoing. that charming smile and way with words had anyone practically under his spell. usually his hair was spiky, not really combed out and left alone. unlike his older twin, dean had no issue speaking his mind, yet when it came to feelings he would keep them inside. his eyes always a soft green, ones any girl would lose themselves in. you’d often see him on the football field running laps or drills. being captain was a tough position but he made it seem easy. his diet was terrible, always ditching lunch breaks for burgers across the street. the cheesier the better.

both boys gained lots of attention that first year and though it took time to not confuse them, eventually people spotted the differences. knew which twin like or didn’t like, sometimes the hard way. michael didn’t like to make chitchat, so when the cheerleaders would spot him in the hallway and rush over, he’d flash them a glare before walking away. and when dean spotted those same cheerleaders later, flaunting his infamous smile, they’d walk away. dean hated how michael ruined his reputation sometimes, he wanted to fit in for once. or at least try to.

you had spotted signs to not get the twins confused, recalling michael always carried his watch and had a slightly darker shade of green in his eyes. though that’s if you could stand looking at him in the eyes long enough. the older twin was easily annoyed, looking down upon everyone like a god and his mortals.

when it came to dean, the young man instantly brightened up the room. his hair was either spiky or somewhat shaggy. eyes a bright green like a candy apple, lips curled into a sweet smile. a total sweetheart and the poster boy for any rom com. sometimes though, he carried a faint smell of cigarettes. if anyone were to ask, no he hadn’t been smoking.

·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙

Please note; I do not allow translations or redistributions of my work by anyone else except myself. MDNI, if your account is ageless or empty, I will block you !! Minors are NOT welcome here.

[simonknowsnothing]

My first Braime edit!

(almost my first edit)(so maybe full of problems)

I just think like, I need an Braime edit that shows their brilliant fighting capacity and strength and sword skills and hot burning chemistry and blablablablablabla something like that.

The scene is some kind of corresponding with the Chinese lyrics, so you may not get it, but whatever I still wanna share it😭

Music: 放肆 by Vae Xu

[themyscirah]

Reading shit comics kind of sucks but at least I get the satisfaction of proving my own point w this

[lovscb97]

tags: step-brother!park jongseong x fem!reader, d/s dynamics, dom!jay x sub!reader, manipulation lowkey?, implied male masturbation, kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), dirty talk, use of nicknames (baby, princess, jjongie, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), spit kink, begging, daddy kink, unprotected sex (plz don’t), breeding kink, choking, praise kink, creampie, fluff and uncertainty at the end, etc

wc: 4.12k

add. notes: ok i know i said i would Not upload soon much less written work either but guess who lied!!! no but fr my mood was pretty terrible yst morning bcs of some stupid classmates not contributing to group work but u know what i had food n ice cream w my friend n i felt a bit better at the least. it still doesn’t excuse their actions but ya anyways bcs of my peace of mind n bcs i finished my part for my presentation, i present to u a Very long stepbro jay fic hehe.. some parts or sentences may look familiar but that's cus i acc sent them to a blog here as anon messages LMFAO but yea i hope u guys enjoy :3 icon creds to @/purinkiss btw!

. . . 

ever since your parents’ divorce, your entire world shattered. it only got worse when your dad announced he’d be bringing home a new woman, much less one who had a child the same age as you. of course, you disagreed at first, throwing harsh words at him up until the point he forced you to meet the delinquent, dragging you by the arm to the restaurant where you were to have dinner with whoever these random people who were about to become part of your small family circle were. you’d even made a firm promise to yourself to not entertain them and to be petty, whether that translated through snide remarks or rolling your eyes, and you swear you really were going to go through with it—

that is, until you met jay.

jay was nothing like you’d imagined him to be. in your head, your new, soon-to-be stepbrother was an ugly, rude and snobby brat who didn’t give two cents about joining your family, the jay you met in reality though? everything but that. he was sweet, and polite, and absolutely fucking gorgeous; blonde hair swept back with a strand falling over his forehead, lean shoulders outlined in the tight fitting black shirt he’d decided to wear for the occasion, and a smile worth a thousand bucks or even dying for. any words that were previously on the tip of your tongue died down when he took your hand in his to shake it, the soft feel of his skin and his bright grin making your insides positively melt and the thoughts of your parents split dissipate within seconds. 

your stepbrother’s attitude and good looks carried through the months you spent with him too. if anything, it became even more reinforced with him taking care of you whenever you needed him. he’d handle sharp objects for you while making your favourite food, hold your hand on the street if you had to cross the road, carry your bags when they got too heavy, rush in front of the door to open it for you, and so, so much more. you were at a privilege to be able to watch him walk around with nothing but a simple shirt and sweatpants around the house too, shamelessly raking your eyes over his attractive features and boring them into his back when he leaned over the stovetop to cook you ramen. 

part of you felt like a perv, for behaving this way and finding him good looking even if he objectively was. you knew it wasn’t like you could help it, you had eyes and they obviously saw what was in front of you, but you tried shoving it down anyways. it also didn’t help that jay constantly hovered around you and made your relationship out to be so.. domestic. he’d narrow his eyes when he caught you talking on the phone to your friends about your latest hook-up, lecturing you on the use of safe sex and how college boys were no good for you until you were red in the face with embarrassment, or he’d offer for the both of you to hang out together after classes ended for you every other day, draping a blanket over your figures and scooching in close to you up until you could feel his body heat radiating off of him. your dad and his new wife thought nothing of it despite your mind spinning, cooing over how well you two got along and relishing in the fact that their children were such good siblings already.

oh, if only they were aware of the twisted fantasies swirling in jongseong’s mind.

because from the minute jay saw you, he knew he had to have you. your pretty face, your soft-spoken voice, and of course, your fucking body. he felt like he was about to lose his damn mind when he first saw you walk around the house in nothing but skimpy shorts and that stupid pink top that left nothing up to the imagination. to an extent, it almost felt like you were teasing him on purpose, especially when he’d find you seated on the couch with your exposed thighs and the subtle dip of your cleavage peeking through the measly clothes that practically coaxed him to sport a hard-on right then and there. it’d be the dead of night when he’d finally find some relief after a day of watching you parade around the kitchen, wondering what it would feel like to grip your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pull your nose flush to his pelvis with him nestled deep inside your throat. and it was only when jongseong came all over his hand and sheets for the nth time after fantasising about you that he realised he needed to do something about this, whether that went against his moral compass or not.

it started with light touches. 

jay would grasp your shoulder to move past you when you were in the way, barely mumbling an ‘excuse me’ to alert you of his presence so you wouldn’t practically jump out of your skin when he did so. his hand would linger in yours for a second too long when he tried not losing you in crowds, gently commanding you to stay close to him in that stern tone of his that made your panties stick to you. it was common etiquette, you thought, he was just doing his job as a brother would normally do for his sister, but the only thing in jongseong’s mind was to make you let down your guard, let it down so much that he could swoop in at the perfect time to take advantage of it. he knew it was wrong, so sinister and dark to want to fuck his own stepsister to the point the only way he could get it up was to the thought of you, but jay didn’t care about any of that at this point, far too fucked out in his own head to think of having eyes for anyone but you.

and as expected, all throughout this, you didn’t suspect a thing. how could you? jay was so perfect, so well-mannered and so attentive. he listened to you rant about anything trivial in your life and drove you around when you wanted to meet up with your girls. he’d wake up late at night if you had a bad dream, consoling you even through the sight of your tears making him worked up, and rub your back softly when you needed to be taken care of. he’d let you sneak back in the house after you’d told your dad you were going out to the library to study, making up excuses for you when your lies fell short. he had your back, and in turn, you had his, so you would’ve never thought of him as anything but a gentleman and big brother.

until everything he did grew into more. 

until having an arm behind your carseat while looking into the rearview mirror turned into placing his hand on your thigh, inches away from the seam of your skirt. until sitting next to him while watching a movie with a shared blanket turned into him nuzzling against you under the covered fabric. until having dinner with both your parents present at the dinner table turned into his foot grazing against yours ever so slightly.

until your honey-like voice calling out for him to help you get the glass on the top cabinet turned into full blown moans of you getting eaten out on the living room couch, echoing throughout the empty house because of-fucking-course, your parents were out for the night on a dinner date.

you weren’t even sure how it happened. one minute, you were struggling to reach on your tippy toes, your mouth instinctively moving to utter jay’s name because he was the only one besides you at home who could help out, but the next, he was pressing up against you to the point of grinding himself into your ass, causing you both to inhale sharply. you vaguely recall turning around, ready to ask what your stepbrother was doing when you’d caught sight of his darkened eyes, practically eyeing you like a piece of meat. and by the time anything even registered in your mind, his lips were already on yours, and his hand was dragging you over to the couch in record time.

“j-jay, we shouldn’t be doing this.” you stuttered out, your voice meek and quiet as you tried not to roll your eyes back at the sight of him slurping up your juices. he didn’t respond, instead opting to move his mouth up to focus on your clit, sucking it into the hot cavern and rolling his tongue against it to the point it had you seeing stars. you knew it was wrong, going against so many moral standpoints and rules, but god did it feel so good. you quickly came to understand that the jay who was going down on you currently was nothing like the jay who engages with you in your day to day life. that jay is gentle, well-meaning and answers all your questions despite how dumb they may seem. but this jay? he’s fucking filthy, messy to the point you can tell your juices are dribbling down his chin.

“fuck, you taste so good.” he gasps out when he finally decides to pull away. “thought about this so much when jerking off.” your eyes widen at his crude admittance, and you know you really should be disgusted at it, but something about the idea of jay being alone in the darkness of his room, hand wrapped around himself while saying your name under his breath only makes you wet, even more so than you already are. at the back of your mind, something screams at you to stop, but you’ve already gotten a taste of what your stepbrother can provide you, and you’d be damned if you didn’t stick around to find out more about it. 

“this is wrong.” you quietly admit anyways, even if it’s not what you want to say. but jay just hums, leaning down to hover above your figure as his arms cage you in underneath him, doing very little to help the fact of how much smaller you feel below him. his lips ghost the shell of your ear as you shiver at the proximity between you two, and he gently nips at it, leaving you biting your tongue to hold back the noises you long yearn to let out. “i know it is, baby, but doesn’t it feel so fucking good?” jay questions with a low chuckle, pulling away to cock his head to the side. you curse internally at the way the nickname sounds coming from him, a dust of light pink spreading across your cheeks because fuck, how can someone be so alluring at all times?

“don’t you want to feel even better, princess?” jay’s voice draws you out, and you hold back a moan at the way he grinds his clothed bulge against your bare opening, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s slowly convincing you over to the dark side. “don’t you want your big brother to spread this pussy open and fuck it ‘till you’re crying from how good it feels?” you almost nod, trying to resist the urge to buck your hips up to catch the sensation of his lower region against you once more. instead, you choose to turn your face away from his striking gaze staring you down, but jay just grips your jaw and turns you to face him once more, the action only making your insides swirl with delight.

“still, what if your mom and my dad find out?” you mumble, and jay just grins wickedly. he swoops in, dipping his head down to capture your lips in a searing kiss that makes you giddy with joy, sneaking his tongue past the opening of your mouth to lick into it. when he pulls back, there’s a thin line of spit connection you both, prompting you to squirm at the sight to which jay’s chest rumbles with laughter. “you’re so fucking cute, y’know that? been dreaming of having your pretty body underneath me since i met you.” he admits lowly, your wide eyes only spurring him on further. “wanna know what i think?” you slowly nod, unsure of where this is going. jay’s voice drops an octave lower as he leans in close and whispers—

“i think you’re a dirty, little slut who deserves to get fucked by her big brother.”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes you at his words this time, and that’s all the confirmation jay needs to sit up and tear off his shirt, bringing to life all the fantasies you’ve had about his body this entire time. you can’t stop yourself from reaching out a hand to touch him, nails grazing across the ridges of his toned stomach and the dip of his v-line that’s hiding the very thing you’ve been craving under his sweatpants. meanwhile, jay just watches you with lust swirling in his orbs, a small smirk playing at his swollen lips as he takes in the picture of your innocent little face ogling his figure. “you like what you see, don’t you, pretty?” he murmurs, biting his lip at the way you nod in shame. “don’t worry.” jay grunts, standing momentarily to loop his fingers inside the edges of his pants. “you’ll get what you’re craving real soon.” he winks before he’s yanking the only thing separating you both down, exposing himself in all his glory to your awaiting eyes at last. 

“goddamnit, it’s pretty.” you think to yourself when your eyes finally settle on your stepbrother’s dick. the tip is an angry shade of red, dribbling with a few beads of precum that your face falls at when jay swipes them away with his thumb as he wraps his large hand around himself. your disappointment is short-lived, however, because he’s back on top of you soon, holding the very same thumb up to your awaiting mouth to taste, to which you eagerly wrap your lips around, the salty flavour of him invading your senses. “good girl.” jongseong commends as you suckle at the tip of his finger, the praise going straight to your core. he pulls his hand away from you after a short while, that same wet thumb snaking its way down to find your clit and pressing against it, which does nothing but rip a noise of satisfaction from you. jay continues to rub at your engorged nub, his gaze fixated on the sight of your pussy as if he’s trying to commit it to memory.

“shit. i can’t wait any more.” he growls after another second, retracting his hand to wrap it around himself instead, pumping once or twice before he’s pressing the head against your awaiting entrance. you watch with bated breath as he rubs against your folds, slicking up with your oozing juices until your patience starts wearing thin. “jay,” you huff after a minute, legs kicking up in frustration as your stepbrother glances at you teasingly. “what do you want, angel? use your big girl words and tell me.” he smiles, almost innocent to the point you even forget the compromising position you’re both in.

“want.. want you.” you admit shyly, averting your eyes to a forgotten corner in the room as jay tsk’s. “look at me when you speak, whore.” he spits out, his entire demeanour changing in an instant. it only makes you leak even more, and you swallow thickly, eyes pleading. “please fuck me, please. wan’ you to do what you said, spreading me open and using me until i cry, please, please, please. jjongie, daddy, please, i—“

you don’t even get the chance to finish because by the time both the nickname and title leave your mouth, jay has long lost his composure, instantly pushing inside you as he attempts to bottom out his large cock. he hisses at the way your warm walls envelop him, and the only thing you can do is cry out at the way you’re being stretched out to your limit, finally having the emptiness inside you satiated with the presence of your stepbrother’s dick. “fuuuck, that’s it, look at this tiny, little hole sucking me in.” jay curses, and you flare red in embarrassment at his nasty words, ignoring the way they only make you gush around him even more. 

“i’m going to absolutely ruin you, baby.” is the only thing jay says before he’s pulling out and slamming himself back into you, leaving you to cry out as his mushroom tip instantly hits that one spot deep inside. his thrusts are erratic, filled with a fervour none of the other guys you’ve ever slept with had, and you think the way he’s fucking you now is definitely going to rectify his promise of fucking you until you’re crying, the occasion seeming to be very well on its way of happening. 

“fuck, there is no way this is the last time we’re doing this.” jay groans, the noise of skin slapping and your moans echoing throughout the living room as he continues absolutely drilling you. each drag of his cock drives into you with sheer power and raw desire to completely destroy you it seems, and you’re sure nobody is ever going to top it. “gonna use you everywhere, every time i please. you want that too, don’t you? tell me you do, princess. tell me and daddy will fuck you like he means it every single time.” he blurts out. the only way you can respond is through incoherently mumbling and the nodding of your head, far too dazed out already at the way your stepbrother is pounding into you, which only draws a breathy laugh from jay. “seems i’ve fucked you dumb already, huh? cock that good? so good it’s got my baby all dumb?” he taunts. you only whine at his words, drool spilling out from the side of your lips which jay wipes off with a chuckle.

“i’m already close, god.” he sighs, his movements unrelenting and balls tightening with the way they slap against your ass. “want me to cum inside you? for daddy to breed this pussy full? maybe i should do it and make you walk around with my seed lodged deep in your messy cunt.” jay hisses, his hand snaking it ways to your neck as he continues talking. “bet you’d like that ‘cause you’re a filthy fucking bitch. letting your stepbrother fuck your tight cunt as he pleases.” slender fingers wrap around the skin and tighten their grip slightly to restrict your airflow, and that’s all it takes to abruptly push you over the edge, leaving you dropping your mouth open in a silent scream as you cum. jay continues fucking you through your high, making out your small mewls amongst the lewd sounds of his cock shoving into your hole. 

“good girl, good fucking girl. did so well for me, came so much all for daddy. you’re so, so good to me, princess. fuck, i love you.” jay blabbers as he lets go of your neck, too lost in chasing his own peak to even realise what he’s just admitted. you don’t catch it fully either in your haze of overstimulation that he continues to fuck you through, but some unconscious part of you mutters it back as best as you can somehow. jay’s heart swells at the way you take him, so small and pliant for him to just use for his own good, and he leans in to smash his lips against yours, drinking in your loud sounds as his movements start to falter with his upcoming release washing over him. 

“just a bit more, pretty, just a bit. such a good fucking girl for daddy, letting him use your body, fuck. i’m gonna cum deep inside you, angel. gonna reward you with my cum. you’d like that, wouldn’t you? like me to creampie this precious hole?” jay stammers out, the coil in his stomach close to snapping. he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up his exterior, sweat dripping down his forehead and closed eyes as his tired hips continue ramming his cock into you. he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, cracking his orbs open to find your fucked out face mumbling for his cum, your legs wrapping against his waist to keep him locked into you. 

“cum in me, daddy, please cum in me. wan’ your cum, i’ll take it like a good girl. please, daddy.” you babble, and that’s all it takes to send jay over the edge too, loud groans leaving his mouth as he shoots thick ropes of white inside your walls, painting them with his release. he cums for what feels like forever, holding your body close to his as his cock throbs inside your spasming cunt that’s still greedily sucking him in, urging him to fill you up. he finally stops after seemingly a good minute, panting against your neck where he’s buried his face into as he lets the post-orgasm bliss wash over himself.

“fuck,” jay heaves a breath once he’s finally recovered, making sure to use his softening cock to keep you plugged up in fear his cum will drip down and stain the couch, much less make your scandalous activities known to both your parents. he knows he’s going to have to face the reality of everything soon, but for now, he chooses to ignore it, propping himself up with an arm as he takes a look at your tired face that’s still so beautiful even after he basically fucked you within an inch of your life.

“you okay?” he asks softly after a while, prompting you to open your eyes and look up at him. there’s so much love and adoration in them that it makes jay feel all gooey inside, and when you nod with a small smile on your lips, he can’t help but lean back in and kiss you, desperately wishing this won’t be the last time he feels your mouth on his. “you think we made a mess?” you wonder out loud with a giggle once he’s pulled away, and jay just laughs breathlessly at you, brushing a strand of loose hair out of your face to take a proper look. “i’ll clean it up if so, don’t worry, baby.” he reassures in a quiet voice, leaving you to hum in agreement as a response.

“jay.” 

“hm?”

“..what now?” 

jay inhales when you bring forth the question he doesn’t have an answer to, looking down at you to find your worried expression staring back at him. he coos when you jut out your bottom lip, brushing a thumb against your cheek smoothly as he sighs. “don’t worry about that now, princess. just sleep.” he murmurs. 

he can tell you’re not entirely satisfied with his admission, and that you want to say something more, but even if you do, you choose not to, instead opting to follow his advice and shutting your eyes by letting the fatigue from what you’d just been through take over your body. jongseong watches as you slowly close off your thoughts and mind, gently resting his body weight on top of you in favour of pulling you closer. he tries to avoid thinking of the inevitable that’ll come to wake him up, but he’ll deal with that later, choosing to bask in this moment with you for as long as he can before he has to face reality. instead, he presses a small kiss to your cheek, nuzzling it with his nose before closing his own eyes. he eventually drifts off to dreamland, where his thoughts will still be filled with your face.

. . . 

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[notlongtolove]

your hand in my hand

after derek’s less-than-intellectual speech about how he was not spending four uninterrupted hours on a train with reid, hotch’s solution was to pair you with spencer instead. and between your notorious driving and spencer’s—well, spencer’s worse driving, the only logical option was the train.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: mutual pining spencer and bau!reader embark on a 4 hour train ride and share some cute moments over a wordsearch book

word count: 3.1k

note: finished finals n hopped on a flight n came back n wrote this on 4 hours of sleep jst bc i couldn't get the idea of a train ride out of my head...

a line: The sight of your bag in his hand was one you could get used to. It was a sight that made you think of Sunday mornings and shared coffee mugs.

It’s beautiful out there— fields, little lakes and winter trees in February sunlight, every car park a shining mosaic. Long radiant minutes, your hand in my hand, still warm, still warm. -wendy cope

“I still think this is a terrible idea.”

“It’s only a four-hour train ride.”

“Yeah, but it could’ve been a two-hour drive.”

“Two? It’s three at the minimum. Danville is—”

“Not if I’m driving,” you smirk. 

“And that is exactly why I told Hotch I would not be getting in a car with you.”

Hotch had assigned you and Spencer to check out a secondary lead while the rest of the team travelled out to work a case. After Derek’s less-than-intellectual speech about how he was not spending four uninterrupted hours on a train with Reid, Hotch’s solution was to pair you with Spencer instead. And between your notorious driving and Spencer’s—well, Spencer’s worse driving, the only logical option was the train.

Not that it stopped Spencer from pointing out every possible flaw in your driving on the way to the station.

“I’m not that bad, I swear!” you had protested, rolling your eyes.

“You got two speeding tickets in the last month.”

“One month,” Garcia had chimed in over the phone. “And actually, technically, it’s three tickets.”

You groaned. “The third one didn’t count! The cop was just—”

“And don’t even get me started on your sense of direction,” Spencer mumbled. 

“Pretty girl, I love you, but I’d get in a car with Reid before you, and that’s saying a lot,” Morgan’s voice rang out from over the line.

“Thank you!—Wait, hey!” Spencer spluttered.

By the time you make it to the station, its clear that your BAU Jet Privileges had not prepared you for public transportation. “Wheels up in thirty” definitely did not translate to “trains only leave when you’re ready.”

“Can’t we just tell them we’re, like, important or something?” you grumbled, stretching to peek over the crowd in front of you.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Spencer muttered, clutching his satchel as he scanned the line. His brow furrowed in that nervous way you’ve come to recognize, the one he always got when cases ran too close to the wire or people hovered just a little too close in his personal space.

As they announced the final boarding call over the station’s intercom, Spencer’s anxiety ramped up, practically vibrating beside you. You, of course, were less concerned. “Relax,” you teased, nudging him. “What are they gonna do, leave without us?”

“Yes,” Spencer snapped. “That’s actually exactly what they’re going to do.”

When a harried-looking attendant opened a new line to speed things up, Spencer grabbed your bag—“God, what is in here?”—and marched you both toward the front of the queue.

“You two together?” she asked, as she gestured between the two of you.

“Oh, uh, no—just friends,” Spencer stammered, color rising in his cheeks.

She blinked at him. 

“Spence, she’s referring to our tickets.”

“Oh! Right, right.” He fumbled with his pocket as you handed yours over, suppressing a grin.

Flustered Spencer was your favorite Spencer. Of course, you’d never admit it out loud, but there was something endlessly endearing about seeing him off-balance, especially if you were the cause. Not the encyclopedia, not the profiler, just Spencer. It was a rare glimpse into the version of him you cherished most. The Spencer who remembered your coffee order, who stayed up with you in hotel lobbies when you’ve had one too many said cups of coffee, who once held your hand for 15 whole minutes after you found a kid’s drawing in a victim’s room and couldn’t keep it together.

It was also a little dangerous. Not in the same way your driving was dangerous (though Spencer might argue otherwise), but in the way where you sometimes wondered if you’d crossed some invisible line. If the lingering hugs and casual touches that weren’t exactly casual meant more than either of you were willing to say. But those were dangerous thoughts, ones best left in the quiet recesses of your mind. So you pushed them aside, as you always did, and focused on the here and now.

The here and now being Spencer, still blushing faintly as he grabbed your bag and adjusted it over his shoulder, his brow furrowed with some internal muttering about how much you packed. When the attendant waved you through with a tired smile and Spencer started making a beeline for your platform with your bag in tow, you couldn’t help but grin. 

“Thanks, partner,” you teased, earning a glare that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Just get on the train,” he grumbled, turning away before you could see the corners of his lips twitch upward.

The two of you made your way through the carriages after a brief but spirited debate about whether to walk outside along the platform to reach your assigned car or board the train immediately and navigate through it. Predictably, Spencer had won, and now you were squeezing past narrow aisles and weaving through clusters of passengers with a litany of “Excuse me,” “I’m so sorry,” and even a “I didn’t mean to step on your foot sir,” from you.

By the time you finally reached your carriage, the train had already started moving. Spencer shot you a pointed “I told you so” look that made you roll your eyes as you flopped into your seat. Spencer wrinkled his nose as he lowered himself hesitantly into the seat beside yours, clearly doing his best not to make contact with any of the surfaces he deemed less than pristine. His discomfort was almost palpable, the slight twitch of his fingers betraying his thoughts. Public transport wasn’t exactly his favorite—as he’d once explained in great detail, something about microbial colonies on handrails and seats. You leaned back, watching as he tried to situate himself, his satchel perched protectively on his lap like it might shield him from the horrors of public commuting.

“So,” you said, hoping to distract him, “what joys of reading did you bring along for this glorious journey?”

Spencer glanced at you, then sighed, reaching into his bag. “The Sign of Four,” he said, taking out a well-loved copy of the Sherlock Holmes novel.

“Ooh, a classic,” you replied with an approving nod.

“And you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he settled into the question, visibly relaxing, if only a little. His fingers smoothed the corner of his book, but his eyes stayed on you, curious.

You grinned, the kind of grin that promised trouble—or at least something Spencer would find mildly exasperating. Reaching into your bag, you dug through the chaos of receipts, snacks, and whatever else you’d deemed necessary for a four-hour train ride.

“You’re not going to watch something on your phone again are you?” Spencer said, his tone laced with a mix of exasperation and earnest concern. “You do realize that watching something on a phone during a train ride is fundamentally different from doing so on a jet, right?"

“Hold your horses,” you said, your tone light and teasing. “It’s in here somewhere.”

Spencer continued, "The vibrations and lateral motion of the train create a parallax effect that forces your eyes to constantly refocus, which can lead to ocular fatigue and even mild vertigo in some cases—”

“Calm down,” you interrupted, cutting off his impromptu lecture as you pulled out a shiny new word search book. You held it up triumphantly. “Snagged it in the station lobby.”

“I thought you said you needed the restroom.”

“I did,” you said, smirking as you flipped through the book’s pages. “And then I saw this. Couldn’t resist.”

Spencer narrowed his eyes, glancing at the bright, cartoonish cover. “It says meant for ages 10 and up.”

“And last I checked, I am most definitely over the ripe old age of 10, Genius.”

Spencer shook his head, a small, begrudging smile finally breaking through his earlier apprehension. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a lightness in his voice now that made you grin even wider

“And yet,” you countered, “here you are, stuck with me for the next four hours. Lucky you.”

Spencer sighed dramatically, but you didn’t miss the warmth in his eyes.

The train rattled gently as it picked up speed, the two of you settling into your books. Spencer had opened his novel, but the words on the page blurred as his attention kept drifting. You weren’t exactly helping—constantly shifting in your seat, furrowing your brow in concentration as you hunched over your word search book. He tried to focus, he really did, but his gaze kept flicking away from the neat lines of his novel.

You were stuck on the word minimal when he finally caved.

“Top left, vertically,” he said without looking up.

Your brows furrowed for a moment before Spencer reached over and pointed it out for you. “Oh, thanks!” you replied cheerfully, circling the word with gusto.

At first, it had been helpful, funny even, maybe even a little cute. But by the third time he chimed in with a casual, “Parachute. Bottom right, backwards,” you were ready to stage a mutiny.

“You’re ruining word search!” you declared, tearing the book away from his gaze, clutching it dramatically to your chest.

Spencer laughed, an unrestrained, boyish sound that made your cheeks flush. “It’s not my fault you’re so bad at it!”

You gasped, leveling him with a mock glare. “Spencer Reid, you take that back right now!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, still grinning, “but it’s like you have horse blinders on or something.”

“Oh, if you’re so good, why don’t you do it?”

It wasn’t a challenge so much as an invitation, but Spencer, being Spencer, took it as both. He snatched the book from your hands, scanned the grid, and completed the puzzle in a little under two minutes.

“Show-off,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help smiling as he handed it back launching into an explanation about linguistic patterns and visual recognition.

You both settled into a rhythm, solving the rest of the puzzles side by side. You held the pencil—because, as you put it, you deserved the pencil holding honor—though Spencer still pointed out words before you even had a chance to finish reading the list.

“Butterfly. Horizontal, top left,” he said without missing a beat.

“I saw that! I was getting to it!” you protested, circling the word with exaggerated flair.

Spencer smiled to himself as he watched you, his book long forgotten. Just as you had your favorite version of him, he had his own of you, one he’d never admit aloud. There was something about these little moments—when your carefully curated wit gave way to playful exasperation—that he absolutely adored. No clever retorts, no sharp-edged humor, just you. 

The two of you had been working on the word search together for a while now, the small book balanced precariously on the shared armrest between your seats. Naturally, you’d both leaned in closer without realizing it, the space between you narrowing as the train rattled along. But after a few jerks on the track Spencer notices you shifting uncomfortably in your seat, your expression tightening just slightly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice gentle as he glanced at you.

“Armrest’s digging into my side,” you admitted, twisting a little as if to escape the offending object, the smile you tried to muster falling a little short. 

“Ah,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact, “Put it up, then.”

The version of you from an hour ago might have quipped something sarcastic, turning the moment into yet another teasing exchange. But travel fatigue had set in, and the closeness of Spencer—his voice, his warmth, the way he seemed to notice everything—had you more flustered than you cared to admit.

“Oh. Okay,” you murmured, your voice quieter than usual as you moved the armrest up and shifted in your seat. The tension in your posture eased as you repositioned, feeling the strain fade. 

“Better?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as he studied your face.

“Mm. Slightly.” you replied, though the truth was that it was a lot better. Without the armrest, you found yourself acutely aware of how close he was—his arm brushing against yours, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his knee bumped against yours when the train swayed.

Spencer nodded, seemingly satisfied with your answer, but the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his lips. He shifted slightly too and returned his attention to the forgotten book in his lap. But his fingers drummed idly on the cover, and you could tell his focus was no longer on Sherlock Holmes.

“Let me guess,” you said after a moment, trying to ground yourself in the familiarity of banter. “You’re going to tell me the science behind why train seats are designed to be this uncomfortable?”

Spencer glanced at you, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Actually, I was going to say that the armrests are poorly engineered for optimal comfort. But now that you mention it—”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” you interrupted, groaning as you rolled your eyes, though your grin betrayed you. “Spare me the ergonomics lecture, Doctor Reid.”

Without the armrest dividing you, the space between your shoulders disappeared almost entirely, a quiet sort of intimacy neither of you acknowledged aloud. At first, it was just the puzzle again, you gently nudging the book towards him every now and then, his finger tracing a word before you could even spot it.

“Reindeer. Top right, diagonal,” he said for the third time, his tone just shy of smug.

You circled furiously with a huff. 

It didn’t take long for your enthusiasm to bubble over, the book tipping dangerously toward your face as you leaned forward in an effort to beat him to the next word. After the second near miss, Spencer plucked it from your grasp entirely, holding it at what he claimed was the optimal distance for focus while on a moving train—Though he still let you retain your pencil holding privileges. 

You leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, resting your chin in your hand as you scanned the page. Now, your shoulder didn’t just brush his in passing—it lingered, resting lightly against his as you stretched toward the book in his hands. The contact was unassuming, almost accidental, but you made no move to pull away, and neither did he. Spencer noticed—you were sure of it. How could he not? But if he minded, he didn’t say anything. You caught the faintest twitch of his lips, the smallest sign that he was aware. Maybe even liked it. 

You found yourself leaning more and more, your eyelids growing heavy as the minutes passed. Spencer’s presence was warm beside you, an unspoken comfort that made it easy to drift. It felt like the simplest, most natural thing to surrender to it. You’d handed Spencer the honor of holding the pencil 2 puzzles ago as your head slowly tilted, the weight of it pulling you so temptingly toward his shoulder. A soft sigh escaped you, and before you knew it, your eyes had fluttered shut. Spencer glanced down at you, the way your breathing softened, a perfect stillness that made his chest tighten. 

He didn’t know if he should move away. He knew he didn’t want to. So he stayed where he was, fingers curled loosely around the book, watching as the rhythmic back-and-forth of the train mirrored the gentle rise and fall of your chest. After another slight lurch, your head finally made contact with his shoulder. Spencer stilled, his breath catching in his throat. The way your hair brushed against his cheek while your knee pressed gently against his. How your hand lay across his on the book, a lingering trace of your last attempt to spot a word before he did.

It was all too much for Spencer—and yet, it was just right. 

He dared not move. He didn’t pull back, even though your hair tickled his face. His knee remained pressed against yours, despite the rhythmic sway of the train threatening to break the contact. His hand stayed where it was resting beneath yours on the book, his fingers loosely curled around the pencil, though the book was long forgotten. He stayed, in this unexpected, perfect stillness.

Before he could stop himself, his head had tilted and found its place upon yours. It was comforting, the contact grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. Spencer let his eyes close, the steady hum of the train and the warmth of your presence lulling him into a strange sense of calm.

When the train finally eased into the station, the gentle jolt stirred you awake. You felt your cheeks warm as the reality of the crowded station seeped back in, the intercom announcements and bustling crowds breaking the intimacy of the moment. Spencer’s eyes were still closed, his breathing even. With a small, almost reluctant sigh, you nudged him awake, the touch soft but insistent. He blinked, looking at you with a hint of confusion that melted into a small smile when he realized where he was.

“Hey,” you murmured, a touch of embarrassment in your voice.

“Hey,” he replied, a soft warmth in his expression. 

“You dropped my word search,” you mumbled, nodding toward the book now resting forgotten on the floor between your feet. 

 “Hm?” He sat up straighter, looking at you with a bit of sleep still clouding his gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you shifted, a little embarrassed at the way you’d curled into him, “I’m sorry I slept on you.”

Spencer’s smile was soft and reassuring. “S’fine. I didn’t mind.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, spreading heat to your face. You quickly bent down to grab your bag, fingers fumbling with the strap, hoping the movement would distract you. But before you could lift it, Spencer’s hand closed over the strap. You feel your heart thump at the gesture, the simplicity of it making you pause for a moment longer than necessary. The sight of your bag in his hand was one you could get used to. It was a sight that made you think of Sunday mornings and shared coffee mugs. Dangerous thoughts. 

As you stepped off the train, you instinctively reached for your phone, its screen lighting up with an influx of notifications. Hotch’s name stood out among the messages.

“Hm. Hotch asks if we need a driver for the ride back,” you said, raising your phone to show him, “Says he’ll send a van if we want.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he looked at the screen, the thoughtful expression on his face almost too easy to read. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice casual but with a note of curiosity.

You shrugged, the practiced ease of your movements not quite matching the fluttering in your chest. “I think we’re fine,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light, “unless you want to?”

“Yeah,” he smiled then, the corner of his lips tilting up, “Think the train was just fine.”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: north by clairo saw you in a dream by the japanese house

[helluvapoison]

heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶

btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)

Absolutely I Do

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

a little insight to your wedding with the king

[part ii (18+ only)]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?

• That would be Lucifer

• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving

• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another

• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!

• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you

• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver

• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”

• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle

• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels

• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror

• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away

• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle

• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”

• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”

• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?

• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly

• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours

• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)

• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”

• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for

• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy

[zhelin-thames]

Translated ver of this post by @doby-mans

Translated by google

Another idea I had for a DC x DP crossover, remembering canonically that Danielle went off on her own to different parts of the world.

This time, Young Justice. Danielle becomes part of the team, and everyone assumes she's a Martian, given that she focuses more on her magical abilities and skills like camouflage and phasing through walls.

But one day, Miss Martian falls ill and can’t use her telepathic powers to keep the team connected during a mission. They all turn to Danielle. Despite the setback, the mission goes well—they recover a dangerous magical artifact, a box with strange inscriptions. Finally, someone speaks up:

Superboy: “Why didn’t you establish a psychic link during the mission?”

Danielle: “Because I don’t have telepathic powers?”

Superboy: “We all know you’re a Martian like Miss Martian, so…”

Danielle: “I’m not! None of you understand the true nature of my powers, and maybe you never will! You don’t know what it’s like to be me!”

Robin: “What is it we don’t understand? Being different? Having powers no one fully comprehends? Being a teenager with raging hormones?”

Danielle: “No! Being an artificially created clone made in a secret lab!”

Impulse: “Let’s see, Superboy, Red Arrow, Robin… and now Danielle. Am I forgetting anyone?”

Danielle: “Wait, what?”

Superboy: “You’re not the first in that situation here. So, Martian DNA?”

Danielle: “Worse… The true nature of my powers… ghost DNA.”

Zatanna: “If that’s true, then you’re exactly what we need. According to the box’s inscription, only a halfa can open it.”

Danielle: Attempts to open the box but her hand starts melting. “Ah! I can’t… My ghost powers aren’t stable. This hasn’t happened in years.”

Robin: “Too bad there’s no other halfa to open the box.”

Danielle: “Well… that’s not entirely true. Besides me, there are two others. One is a dangerous villain—my creator—who disappeared years ago. And the other…”

Zatanna: “What about the other?”

Danielle: “The other… well, he’s…”

The entire Justice League, Young Justice, and Batfamily, who were either present or on the comms: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GHOST KING?!”

Danielle: “He’s the only other halfa left in this world, and he’s much stronger and more stable than I am. Do you want to open the box or not?”

Batman: “This could be important. Call him.”

Danielle: “I already did. I asked him to meet us here at the Gotham base.”

Nightwing: “We might have a problem. We were in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack when what looks like a flying boy froze her in seconds.”

Batman: “Froze her?”

Red Robin: “That’s not all. Joker, Penguin, and Two-Face were attacking on the same street, and the same boy let out some kind of super scream that knocked all of them unconscious, including their henchmen.”

Danielle: “Oh no… He’s mad.”

Robin: “Uh… The same boy just duplicated himself and locked every villain and criminal in the city inside what looks like a box made of his own energy.”

Danielle: “Oh no, he’s really mad.”

Danny: Appearing directly behind her. “Of course, I’m mad! I told you to call me the moment you became unstable! You know what could’ve happened!”

Danielle: “I know, I know, but you don’t have to worry. I haven’t needed an ectoplasm injection in years. Meditation usually works.”

Danny: “Have you been melting before?!”

Danielle: “Don’t be so overprotective. I called you for a different reason.”

Danny: “Don’t change the subject. Don’t make me ask Clockwork to keep an eye on you.”

Red Hood: “Clockwork?”

Danny: “The Ghost of Time.”

Batman: “We need help with this box.”

Danny: “And who’s this furry?”

Danielle: “That’s Batman, the hero of this city.”

Danny: “Well, terrible job. I’ve been here for two seconds, and I already had to clean up the mess. That box… it looks a bit like Pandora’s Box. Where did you get it?”

Wonder Woman: “But Pandora’s Box should be protected by…”

Danny: “Pandora herself. In my realm. Exactly.”

Danielle: “We recovered it during a team mission. Apparently, only a halfa can open it, but I couldn’t, and it destabilized me.”

Nightwing: “I don’t know what confuses me more: the box thing or how many powers this guy has.”

Danny: “That’s easy. I have classic ghost powers, including the ones I used around the city. But as King, I have access to ancient magical artifacts, like the Crown of Fire, which greatly amplifies ghost power. Along with the Ring of Rage, the power would be infinite, but I made a deal with the former king. He keeps the ring and his freedom as long as he doesn’t cause chaos. Then there’s Aragon’s Amulet, which basically gives dragon powers. There’s also the Ghost Key, which can literally open any door, whether in my world or this one…”

Danielle: “Is the list of magical objects really that long?”

Danny: “I was just missing the Reality Gems, which could change reality itself as we know it. But, of course, I already destroyed those…”

Batman: “The box is the priority.”

Danny: “Right. We shouldn’t open it. If it’s like Pandora’s Box, then whatever’s inside is very dangerous. But fine, if that’s what you want…” Opens the box and immediately both he and Danielle feel overwhelming discomfort. “I know this feeling. It’s… a Blood Blossom.”

[sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame]

En Sus Marcas part 2/?

Werewolf Valeria porn let's goooooooooooo

Part 1

Summary: act 2 of your first 48 hours at your new job of being Valeria's full-time live-in pet housewife 🫶🏾

NOT PROOFREAD 😭, poorly translated Spanish, 2nd person omnipresent, black reader, no use of y/n, degradation, size kink, strength kink kinda, breeding kink, readers still kind of dumb lol, I couldn't decide what to do genitalia wise because I can't imagine her having a strap hung up on a tree branch somewhere and taking the time to put it on lol, so either Valeria has a knot in this omegaverse style or she's just wearing a strap the whole time, whichever you'd prefer to imagine lol, either way I call it her dick/cock, vagina and boobs having reader, pillow princess reader, stone top Valeria, cunnilingus (r! Receiving), dubcon sex

Dedicated to the two ppl who said they'd been waiting on a fic like this and also my future spouse who will also be a werewolf with as much dom energy or more as Valeria but like, 120% more cognitive empathy mwah and a job that's not running a cartel 🫶🏾

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

"Run."

You were so obedient. The second she let you out of her arms you stumbled back, running sideways to keep your eyes locked on hers.

She wasn't lying about giving you a head start. She would've caught you in half a second otherwise. It wouldn't have been fair. It wouldn't have been fun.

She grinned at the sound of your rapid footsteps and heaving breaths. She was glad you hadn't been chased often, she didn't need the competition, but she'd have to teach you how to be worse prey. You were so delectable. Sweat dripping down your temple and she hadn't even started counting. And who goes out into the woods in nothing but their skimpy little nightgown? You apparently.

She started counting not long after you were out of her sight. She spoke loud enough for you to hear, which wasn't hard. You were not a fast runner.

"Diez,"

She was damn near salivating from your scent. You were such a desperate little whore. Dripping wet from just the idea of being threatened and chased.

"Nueve,"

She walked closer towards your scent. She was cheating, but who cares. You were going to lose anyway.

"Ocho,"

She growled, allowing her other form to peak through. Her nails sharpened even more, fur splintered out from her pores. Her happy trail becoming more prominent.

She growled. You were getting too far. Something else could start chasing you before she had you first.

"Fuck it, uno."

She broke into a sprint, trailing after your scent, all semblance of sanity leaving her with every step she took that drew your scent closer.

She maneuvered around the trees, jumping over brambles, following the sound of snapping twigs and the flashes of light pink peaking through the tangled branches blurring as she ran.

She was so irritated to find you gone. She could hear your little rabbit heart pounding in your chest somewhere close by, but she couldn't tell from where.

She let out a moan.

"You're hiding from me? That's good, princesa."

She trailed closer to your hiding spot. You had pressed yourself as flat as possible against a tree.

You were at least fully cognizant of the fact that it was a terrible hiding spot. You were a copyeditor, you hadn't run in years, and if you hadn't paused to catch your breath you would've served yourself up on a platter.

You couldn't ignore the fact that the thought of her tasting you in other ways made your pussy throb.

You heard her growl.

"Doing such a good job making this interesting for me, coñejita."

You couldn't tell where her voice was coming from. It echoed in the forest and seemed to envelope your entire being.

Was she some kind of siren?

"I'll tell you what," her low drawl split into a whine half way through the sentence. "If you come out now, I'll go slow when I catch you."

That sounded awful. Whether she meant killing you or not. Whatever she had to offer you, you wanted it fast."

"And if you don't, I'll make it hurt."

You froze. You stopped breathing, trying to will your entire being into complete silence.

At least you knew where she was now.

Her laugh was the most threatening sound you'd ever heard.

"Ay dios mio, coñejita. You forget yourself."

Warm, big hands gripped onto your waist.

She pulled you to her, pressing your ass against her front.

She couldn't possibly think that could fit inside you, did she?

"No te preocupes. Te lo recordaré." She whispered into your ear before pushing you to the ground, just catching you before your face hit the packed dirt.

You held your hands out in a feeble attempt to catch yourself.

She just laughed, your ass was still pressed against her and if she shifted even a little bit her dick would be rubbing against your soaked cunt.

"I'll fuck you right soon, nena. Just need to taste my pussy first."

Countries not to shiver at her taking such immediate ownership of your body. You didn't have much time to acknowledge it anyway with the long drag of her unnaturally long tongue sliding into your hole.

You let out a pathetic squeak.

Unfortunately for you, Valeria was excellent at eating pussy.

She didn't respond beyond growling more and grabbing your ass. hard.

She went from fucking you with her tongue to sucking on your clit, but it seemed her favorite way to torture you was long, slow strong licks on your clit. She was trying to drive you insane.

She wanted you to present for her, and present you did. You arched your back for her like a champ, ever so slightly rocking against her face which earned you a heavy slap on your pussy.

You yelped, "what was what for!"

"You don't control any part of this, princesa. Eres mi compañera y este es mi coño. Yo decido cómo te follan."

"I don't know what that means," you whined. Trying to reach back to shove her face back into your cunt.

Instead you got five more spanks alternating between your drenched cunt and your ass.

She sat up and pulled you with her until you were sitting in her lap, her cock frighteningly close to spearing inside of you.

"If you don't stop fucking whining, I'll have to stop playing with that pretty little pussy and fuck you until you shut. Up. Me entiendes?"

You whined, nodding into the ground. She smacked the side of your thigh.

"Say 'yes Valeria.'"

'Pretty name.' You thought before another strike came down on your thigh.

"Yes Valeria!"

She snaked her fingers up until they found your cunt, fucking one into you without any warning, forcing a gasp out of you.

"Feel good, baby?" She whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple while she wrecked your pussy with just one of her fingers.

She just couldn't stop playing with you, keeping the same even speed and watching her finger come out covered in your cum, your pussy gripping it so tight.

"Pussy doesn't wanna let me out.." she mumbled to herself.

She pulled out completely to shove two fingers into your mouth, making you gag.

"Get them ready."

Ever the obedient little slut, you did. She came close to cumming untouched with the way your tongue swirled around her digits. You and your adorable little oral fixation, sucking on her fingers like they were candy. She could've kept you like that forever but if she didn't get to cum inside you soon she'd fucking lose it, and there was no way you could take her without being stretched out properly.

She shoved her fingers a bit deeper down your throat, pressing down onto your tongue, relishing in the gagging noises and whines you let out and the sight of the drooly scrunched up face staring up at her pleasingly.

She slowly pulled her fingers out and immediately started fucking you. It was fast paced and rough. You could tell she was getting tired of not feeling you pulse on her cock, and so were you.

"Thaaaat's it, cariño, you can take it."

You were gonna cum already, of course. How could she expect you to last longer than ten seconds when she kept talking to you like that.

"Fuck, I need to cum in this pretty fucking pussy, you gonna let me in? Gonna let me get you pregnant baby?"

She started rubbing harsh circles on your clit with her thumb and your orgasm hit you like a semi-truck. It rolled through you as she stretched you open and turned you into a shaking mess with just her fingers.

"Fuck. Good girl." She was mesmerized by you, she stared at your pussy like it was a meal. If you hadn't been fucked into a subconscious state, you would've been a bit afraid of the intensity in her gaze.

She picked you up and pushed your back against a tree, licking a stripe up your pussy and pressing the gentlest of kisses to your clit before pulling you down and sinking her dick into you.

You winced at the bark scratching against your back with nothing but the partial covering of the silk night dress, but lucky for you, it was Valeria's job to make sure you couldn't focus on anything but the sensation of her thick cock stretching you open.

"Fuuuck." You tried to speak but you weren't sure you could manage much else than the soft whimpers leaving your throat. She was overwhelming in every sense of the word. Her size, her smell, the way she made you feel so small, but so cared for, she enveloped you. She was going to fuck you full. The tears started to well up in your eyes with every slow inch she eased into your pussy.

"Shhhh, good girl, you can take it, know you can."

"Can't daddy, it's too much—"

At that she bottomed out, grabbing you by the jaw and squeezing your cheeks, forcing you to make look her in the eyes.

"What did you just say?"

You froze, zoning in for the first time since you laid eyes on her, "shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spring that on you! Did I—" she gave you a shallow thrust and leaned in closer, somehow pressing herself in deeper.

"That's not what I asked, princesa."

Your eyes were half open. At this point you'd be grateful to remember your own name, let alone what she'd told you three seconds ago.

"What...what did you say?"

Valeria chuckled.

"Can't be that fucking stupid already, can you slut?"

You moaned trying your hardest to rock against her and get some sort of friction to ease the pressure in your core, only to be met with rapid spanks to your ass.

You helped at each hit before dropping your head against the tree.

"How can I be smart when you're splitting me in half, daddy?" You whimpered.

Lucky for Valeria, you'd known her for all of an hour and already knew exactly what buttons to push.

Her eyes darkened, she finally let go of your jaw and started pistoning into you.

"Yeah? Daddy splitting her pussy open?"

"Yesyesyesyesyes."

You didn't even know what you were saying, all you knew was you were seconds away from cumming again and if Valeria let you go you would've collapsed to the floor.

"You want daddy to fuck you harder, princesa? Want her to cum in you?"

"Yes, please daddy please please please I need it."

She huffed out a laugh, "good girl, how did you know daddy was gonna tell you to beg, huh? You're smarter than you look."

You kept whining, begging, doing anything you could to get her to cum in you.

"Que bonita, cum for me, nena. Right now, cum in daddy's cock."

You came shuddering against her and holding onto her shoulders for dear life while she kept rutting into you with the same speed and intensity.

"Fuck daddy slow down!"

She smacked your ass before grabbing your face again.

"No me digas qué hacer y mantén esos malditos ojos abiertos, me entiendes?"

You nodded even though you didn't understand a lick of Spanish. Just eager to do whatever the gorgeous woman fucking you said.

"Gonna cum inside you baby, gonna make you so so so full, and you're gonna fucking take it."

You nodded, or tried to while she kept her grip on you.

A few more deep, hard, slow thrusts and you found yourself cumming around her cock while she shuddered against you.

She huffed into your neck, leaving indents of her teeth in your skin while you began your pathetic attempts to catch your breath.

"Fuck...that was—"

You immediately yelled as she cut you off by pulling you to the ground and shoving your knees to your head, shoving her face into your pussy so fast you couldn't even find the time to be grossed out by the dirt touching you.

She gripped the fat of your thighs and ate you out with the ferocity anyone would expect of a beast.

Fuck. Your night got a lot longer than you'd expected.

☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽☽

You woke up in bed.

You were shocked to find that you were not only clean, hair washed and cared for better than you would put it up yourself. Your bonnet wasn't on, but your pillowcase was suddenly silky smooth and pastel pink to match the nightgown that looked completely different to the one you remembered putting on.

The kitchen smelled like bacon and eggs and something else delicious and you immediately tried to spring out of bed, figuring you probably got drunk and used all of the bacon you'd brought on your trip and forgot to put it away, or worse, started cooking it and left the oven on the whole night.

You were stopped in your tracks by the aches jn your legs and the lingering sensation of fullness inside you.

You shouted a little and immediately heard footsteps coming towards the door.

Valeria walked in, still naked.

"Oh. That wasn't a dream?"

She rolled her eyes like this was the most casual way she's ever met someone. Like you'd just asked her to reach something on a high shelf for you at the grocery store.

"Get back in bed. You're probably still sore from last night."

You let her herd you back into bed, tucking you into the covers like she hadn't spent the night rearranging your guts.

"Valeria?"

She didn't even look up at you, just raising an eyebrow.

"That wasn't a dream. We fucked. In the woods."

She laughed. "Si, la hicimos."

"You know I don't speak any Spanish, right?"

She crawled over you, kissing you on the forehead, then cheek, then lips before putting all her body weight on you and laying her head down on your tits.

"You'll learn."

You couldn't help it. She looked adorable like this. No matter what insanity had befallen you both the night before, a part of you just wanted to experience this minute of peace.

You gasped, she turned to and opened one eye to look at you.

"The wolfdog! Valeria, I forgot, it's probably still lost out there!"

You tried to roll out from under her.

She held you down and stared at you with complete confusion. She pinched at the bridge of her nose before getting up.

You blinked and Valeria was gone. Instead, a wolf was there, leaning its adorable head on top of the bed.

"Oh."

She shifted back again and walked off into the kitchen, leaving you to deal with the unreal amount of questions and complete shift to the laws of nature you thought you were somewhat familiar with.

"Princesa! Cómo te gustan los huevos?"

You sighed.

You reached onto the bedside table, finding your phone plugged in and fully charged.

You download the duolingo app again.

"Over easy please!"

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙

"Spanish or vanish." - Valeria Garza/El Sin Nombre, 2024.

Let me know what you thought I will probably never do this again but I crave validation for my writing

[coco-cinnamon]

Safe With You | JJ Maybank

୨୧ Warnings: Cursing, smut, angst, soft!sex, unprotected sex, soft!JJ, abuse, violence, has a fluffy ending, 18+ MDNI.

୨୧ Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Kook Reader

୨୧ Summary: In which JJ helps his girlfriend get away from his father when she goes over to his home to see him.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.5k

୨୧ Author's Note: this fic is from my old blog @babeydollx. this and most of my other fics will be reposted over here to my new blog. Also I fr have no idea why this fic is written from my pov and not Y/N's because that isn't usually how I write but I was too lazy to fix it, sorry! Maybe someday lol.

© coco-cinnamon 2024, please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.

I arrived at JJ's house to see him. JJ and I rarely got time to see eachother since we were on different sides of the island. My parents always had me busy with some shit all the time. It was exhausting and annoying.

I never had time for JJ anymore and I hated it. So, I decided that I would surprise him at his house to see him. I missed him so much and I knew that he missed me too. I couldn't wait to see JJ again and be in his arms.

I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. I waited for a minute or two but there was no answer. I could hear movement inside of the house so I knew that someone had to be home. You decided to try and open the door.

When I turned the door knob the door easily opened. I slowly walked inside and looked around. The house was messy and I could smell beer and weed. As I looked around, I jumped when I herd glass shatter. 

What the hell was going on? Was JJ okay? Was someone trying to hurt him? Millions of questions and thoughts flooded my head as I looked for JJ. The sounds were coming from the backyard. I dashed out to the backyard to see JJ on the ground with an older man on top of him and punching him.

"Stop! Stop hurting him! Please!" I screamed as I ran over to the two men in the backyard. I couldn't pull the older man of of JJ so I grabbed a empty beer bottle off of the ground and smashed it over his head.

Luke stopped punching JJ and got dizzy before collapsing on the ground. JJ sat up on the ground and looked over at me in shock. 

"What the hell are you doing here?!" JJ asked.

"I- I came to see you.." I said.

"Didn't I tell you to not come here?" He asked.

"You did but, it had been so long since I saw you so I thought I could surprise you. I didn't expect for any of this to happen. Who is he? Why was he hurting you?" You asked.

"He's, uhm... he's my dad." JJ mumbled. 9

"He's your father?!" I asked in shock. JJ nodded. "Why would he hurt you?!" I yelled.

"I don't know. Cause he is constantly drunk and high I guess." He shrugged. "I'm use to it by now, he's been doing it for years." JJ said. I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. This was absolutely heartbreaking. How could a parent do this to their child?

Before I could say anything else to JJ, someone tackled me to the ground harshly. I screamed when it happened. 

"GET OFF OF HER!" JJ yelled. Luke was on top of me. I tried to fight Luke off but he began to hit me hard. I screamed and cried more as he continued to hit me. I could hear JJ yelling and trying to pull his father off of me.

Finally, JJ had got Luke off of me and began to beat the shit out of Luke. I scrambled to my feet and watched the scene go down. I could feel tears streaming down my face still and I was in pain. After a few minutes of JJ beating Luke up, he finally got off of him and ran over to me.

He hugged me and I hid my face in his chest. I finally felt safe. I knew that even if Luke woke up again that JJ would keep me safe, he would make sure that Luke wouldn't hurt me again or worse. 

"Are you okay, Y/N?!" JJ asked worried as he checked me for any terrible injuries. 

"I'm okay." I said with a sniffle and nodded. 

"I am so sorry that this happened to you. You shouldn't have had to see any of this." JJ said with a frown as he hugged me again. 

"I'm sorry that you have had to go through this for years.." I said with a frown. "Why didn't you tell me this was happening to you?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. This isn't your burden to bare, Y/N.." He said. 

"JJ.. we're a team. You can tell me anything and everything, okay? Whatever you are dealing with, I want to be there for you to help you." I said. JJ nodded slowly. "Anyways, did you want to stay the night at my place tonight? My parents are out of town so we have the house to ourselves." I said with a smile.

"That would be nice. Thanks, Y/N." He said with a smile.

"Anytime." I said as JJ and I get ready to go to my house.

We arrived at my house and went inside together. I got both of us a water bottle and then we both went upstairs to my bedroom. I gave him his water bottle and sat down on the bed beside him and we talked for a while. After we both chatted for a bit, we both went silent not knowing what to do next.

"So, what now?" I asked looking over at JJ. He sat there thinking for a moment before looking back over at me. A smirk spread across his face.

"I have a few ideas." He said with a smirk. Before I could ask him any questions he kissed me passionately. I kissed back, melting into the kiss. The was he kissed me was magical. He always knew how to make me feel a certain way without even trying. 

As we made out, he gently pushed me down onto my back onto the bed. I ran my hands through his soft, blond hair as the two of us made out. Once we got both of our clothes off and out of the way, JJ was positioning himself between my legs.

I held onto his shoulders tightly and sucked in a breath as JJ slowly pushed inside of me. I gasped and moaned out softly. He groaned quietly as he bottomed out. He then began to thrust into me.

I gently threw my head back and groaned out. I held onto him tightly as he fucked into me, slowly picking up the pace. He continued to slowly pick up the pace until he was fucking me at an ungodly pace.

I moaned out even louder than I did before. I arched my back off of the bed and moaned out, almost screaming at this point. I could feel that familiar knot bubbling in the bottom of my stomach and I knew that I was going to cum any second now. I then clenched around JJ, signaling to him that I was going to cum. 

"Fuck, you gonna cum, princess?" He asked as he groaned out.

"Yes, fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!" I yelled. 

"Come on, cum for me." JJ said. With that my eyes rolled back and my legs began to shake as I came hard on JJ's hard cock. He thrusted into me a few more times before coming himself, shooting his load deep inside of me.

JJ pulled out of me and I laid their trying to catch my breath. He laid down beside me and he was also trying to catch his breath. After we both took some time to come down from that, JJ smiled and gently pulled me over and snuggled me.

I giggled when he did so. I always loved to be in JJ's arms. He always made me feel so safe. We both laid there together and talked for awhile while we were tangled in each other's arms. After we both talked and snuggled, we both fell asleep together.

I woke up the next morning to see that JJ was no longer in bed with me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before looking around my bedroom. No sign of JJ. As I was about to go look around the house for JJ, I saw a note on my bedside table.

I took the note off of the table and unfolded it before reading it. 

Thanks for letting me stay the night at your house, Y/N. Again, I am so sorry that you had to witness all of that yesterday and go through that. I promise I will come back later, I just have a few things to sort out with my dad. I love you, Y/N.

- JJ

I smiled at the note that JJ left me. I thought it was so sweet that he had decided to write me a note. I missed JJ so much already but, I couldn't wait to see JJ again.

Author's Note: tysm for reading, lovies!

[scftpcws]

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas | Teaser

✩Description: Requested by @nelo0wesker : “Enemies to lovers Armando X reader. Readers in the mafia while Armando in the cartel”

✩ Pairing : Armando Aretas x Fem!reader

✩ Genre : Dark Mafia Romance

✩ Warnings: 17+ (smut in later chapters, Violence, Drug usage, Gang Violence, Sexual/Dark themes, Child endangerment, source accurate violence, bad language, death, my awful spelling and grammar, my terrible Spanish translations (i’m a little rusty), made up characters

✩ Fandom: Bad Boys

✩ Taglist : @nelo0wesker @twinklestarslight @mzbeautii96 @geneziesm @mcotton0928 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sunrisesfromthewest

✩ A/n: i didn’t know how i could put this in one post so its going to be a multi part fic! i really hope yall enjoy this . i should be updating weekly (hopefully..) pls lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist or if you would like a rundown of the characters xx

anywayss…

Teaser under the cut !! * *‧.₊˚*੭*ˊᵕˋ੭.*

enjoy!! :)

Star Crossed| Armando Aretas

“But Dad, why?” she huffed, throwing her arms in the air in frustration.

“Because i said no.”

“But thats not a good enough answer.”

“Y/n, seriously, leave it alone.” he responded, shooting her a glance.

“But I have been training my whole life for this! How am i supposed to take over one day if you can’t trust me to do this?!” she was seething with rage, her nails digging into her palms. She had been told she could ‘go out in the field’ once she had completed her training and was now being denied that right. To say it pissed her off was a serious understatement.

“Mom would want me to do this!”

“Your mother is dead! She cannot want anything! You’re not going and that is final!”

She took a step back, tears welling in her eyes. Ever since her mother had died on a mission, her father had become cold and distant. It was almost as if he never cared for her.

“Thats not fair , and you know it,” she spoke through gritted teeth, her hands balled up in fists at her sides. “If you really don’t want me there despite me being your best agent, fine. But when it all goes to shit, don’t ask me to help.”

She left her fathers office, the thud of her boots following her. Her father sighed, holding his face in his hands. Y/n was just like her mother, dedicated, hardworking, and undeniably stubborn. She couldn’t understand why her father wouldn’t allow her to assist the team on this mission. She thought he was coddling her, holding her back from her full potential. But in reality, he was protecting her.

She stomped all the way to her room, throwing herself on the plush mattress. Her bedroom door clicked open, the sound of kitten heels on the hardwood floors piquing her attention.

“Little one, what did i tell you about shoes on the bed?” the sweet and comforting voice of her childhood nanny, Rosetta, made her huff out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “Sorry Miss Rosetta.” she apologised, unlacing her boots and placing them by her bed. “Good, now what’s with that face? Pretty girls like you shouldn’t frown like that.” Rosetta smiled softly, sitting next to her. Her hair was bouncy and smelled like shea butter and coconut oil. Her makeup was light and refreshing, making her look younger than she really was, though Y/n would never point that out because she knew how sensitive Rosetta was about her looks. she dressed unlike the house staff you would expect to find in a home like Y/n’s, more like a rich aunt rather than a nanny.

“Dad is being difficult again.” Y/n grumbled, crossing her arms, her lip slightly jutted out. Rosetta smiled softly at her, the wrinkles by her eyes becoming more prominent. “Now Miss Y/n, you know he is just looking out for you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, or worse.” she reasoned, petting y/n’s hair. Rosetta was painfully aware of what had happened to Y/n’s mother, and knew it was a sensitive subject, so she made sure to tread lightly.

Y/n stood from her place on the bed, pacing around her lavish room. “But i am not a baby anymore and he knows that! I am one of the most skilled people on the team but he still treats me like a child. It’s not fair!” she argued, her frustration becoming more and more apparent in the way she spoke.

Rosetta smiled, “Well i can’t blame him when you act like this. If i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were having a temper tantrum,” she joked, her tone light, a gentle grin on her face. Y/n rolled her eyes in response, walking back to her bed. Rosetta held her arms open for her, as she used to when Y/n was younger. She laid her head in Rosetta’s lap, allowing the older woman to rake her fingers through her hair, the tension melting from her body.

“Look, Munchkin, your Baba cares about you. He wants you to be safe, and so do i. He has already lost so much, he cannot lose you too.”, Rosetta affirmed, looking down at the sweet girl in her lap. She looked almost the same as she did when she was a child, still soft and precious, but fiercer and somehow more headstrong.

Y/n often despised the way that no matter what Rosetta said, she made sense, she always made sense. “Now dinner will be ready soon, will you be coming down?” She asked, looking down at the girl curled up in her lap.

“I will, but i’m not talking to him.”

The dinner was quiet as ever, just Y/n and her father sat at the table on opposite ends, the same way it had been since her mother died. Rosetta stood off to the side, refilling their glasses whenever they emptied.

“Silent treatment? Real mature Y/n, real mature.” he father stated, taking a sip from the glass of water Rosetta had poured for him. Y/n stood her ground. She wasn’t trying to be childish or petty, she was trying not to to say something she would regret later on, for she did not have a good grasp on the sharp tongue she inherited from her father. Though, it did make arguments with him all the more interesting. “The target is called Benit-”

“Im not going remember? why would you tell me?” she interrupted harshly, her jaw clenched and eyes glaring daggers at her father. “You exhaust me, daughter, you really do.” Her dad sighed, taking a forkful of food and putting it into his mouth. “I’m just trying to fill the silence that you insist upon, because you are too spoiled to take no for an answer, but i guess that is not good enough for you, because nothing ever is.” he grumbled, knowing perfectly well that she would hear every word.

“I insist on the silence, because at least when it’s silent my very existence isn’t being insulted.” she quipped back, cutting up her food and shoving some in her mouth in a hurried attempt to shut herself up. Her father may be head of one of the most powerful mafia families in the world, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t her dad.

“Well maybe if you just did as you were told for once, without questioning my every decision i wouldn’t have to call you out on your petulance!”

“Oh I’m petulant? Says the man who won’t let anyone do anything because he’s too afraid!”

“You are just like your mother, always flying off the handle, not thinking before acting!”

“Mom never listened to your stupid demands and orders!”

“Look where that got her!, the silence was so deafening you could hear a pin drop. “Honey I-”

“How could you say something like that? She did nothing but love you and this is how you talk about her? You berate her for the only mistake she ever made, which was protecting me! She was perfect, never cursed, was polite and knew how to handle herself without getting herself into trouble. You tell me i am just like her?! Well i wish i was like her, maybe then you wouldn’t view me so negatively . Or maybe you would, because that’s exactly how you view her.” Her fists slammed against the table as she rose from her chair.

“Miss Y/n-”

“Miraculously my appetite has gone, thank you for the food though Rosetta.” and with that, she left to her room.

“I dont even want to hear it, Rose” her father huffed, his brows furrowed and his hands clenched together.

“You are both in the wrong. That’s all.” She smiled, placing her hand on Claude’s shoulder, her thumb grazing the fabric of his well tailored suit.

“I know.”

“Hey Boss?” a tall man, of a muscular build walked up to the table, papers in hand. “Yes Lorenzo?” Claude responded, rubbing his temple with his fingers. “I got everything i could on our target from our guy inside, but his tracker just went dead.” Lorenzo admitted, his head low, making sure not to make eye contact with his boss.

“What do you mean his tracker went dead?” Claude breathed, his fist slamming on the table top, causing Rosetta to jump while she cleaned up. “I mean his tracker was on and then it wasn’t.” Lorenzo asserted, huffing out a breath.

“You think this is funny, Enzo?” Claude stood up, grabbing the collar of Lorenzo’s shirt in his fist and and pulling his face closer toward his own.

“No boss.” Claude stared right into Lorenzo’s eyes, his teeth clenched in fury.

“Fix it.”

“Well, we think he may have been discovered, and you know, blown his cover.” Enzo responded calmly, knowing if he reacted the way he wanted to he’d be out of a job, and possibly a life. “Damn you Aretas.” he sighed, his knees suddenly becoming weak.

“Boss!”

“Claude!”, Rosetta ran to his side, holding him up as Lorenzo helped her situate him in the chair. “Kill him, i dont care what you have to do to make it happen. i want him dead.”

“Miguel. Ven aqí (come here)” a gruff voice demanded silence from a small group of men playing a round of Cheat, at a table in the middle of a worn down garage.

“Yeah Jay?” Miguel answered, a sweet smile gracing his lips, his two gold canines on full display.

“Did you do what i asked you to?” he was strangely calm, his left eyebrow slightly raised in mock amusement.

“Yeah of course i did.” Miguel answered, his hands moving straight to his pockets. He was lying.

“What did i ask you to do, hmm?” Jay’s hand made its way to Miguels face, squishing the skin in his hand, as the panic started and sweat began to settle on his forehead. ‘oh shit, what did he ask me to do,’ he thought, trying hard to remember the simple task he was asked to complete.

“I asked you to count the money.”

“Oh yeaaah count the money,” his response was delayed and drawn out, a clear indication that he had not in fact counted the money like Jay had asked him to.

“You see, Compa (friend), i asked you to do one thing,huh? Una cosa (one thing) , and you couldn’t even do that,” Miguel looked his ‘friend’ up and down, he was clearly upset, he fucked up.. bad.

before he could utter an apology for his incompetence he felt the cool end of a gun against his temple. “One thing buddy, thats all i asked. Look man, I knew you were stupid, but i didn’t know all that food you ate inhibited your brain functions!” Jay’s words were like venom. He was never nice to anyone but this was too far, even for him.

“Look man, i got distracted, I’m sorry, i’ll count the racks up before Boss gets back, i swear just don’t shoot.” he begged, tears beginning to well in his eyes.

“I should shoot ya’ in ya’ head, maybe it’ll rearrange your brain, make you useful, hmm?” he spat, digging the barrel of the gun further into his skull. “Or maybe i should shoot ya’ dick off, maybe then you’ll spend less time thinking about las putas (the whores) we see on the street and more time thinking about the simple fucking things i ask your dumbass to do!”

“Please man, you know i have a wife and kids, man. I am begging you.”

“Damn, i forgot about that pretty little thing you call your wife. fuck, you think if if i shoot you i could play step daddy for you, hmm? Keep your side of the bed warm. Snuggle up with ya’ Mrs, give her some good- ”

*Bang*

The sound of a gunshot resounded through the garage. Miguel checked himself over for bullet holes as Jay’s body hit the ground with a heavy thud, his gun falling from his grasp.

“Louis.” Armando said, watching the blood pour from Jay’s lifeless body and pool around him. “Yeah boss?,” a young boy, no older than 19 stood abruptly from his seat at the card table, almost knocking his chair over.

“Clean that up will you? I hate rats.”

“Yes boss.”

“And Miguel? Go count the money before i bury you with him.”

“Yes, boss.”

Hope you enjoyed the teaser!! the first part will be out soon xx

[yeeterthek33per]

I want to hear you say it (Zećira Mušović x Reader)

A/n requested

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, jealous Z, unwanted flirtations. Terrible swedish translations.

As if today couldn’t have gotten any worse, it felt like a major kick in the stomach when you were forcibly dragged away from your own car after training and shoved into the back of Sam’s for team social night. 

It had started off with you nearly not waking up to your third and final alarm of the day leaving you running into training late, much to the annoyance of Emma and the girls who had to join you in sprints this morning.

After that rough start to training, you were then volunteered to introduce the new girl to the rest of the team, a young twenty-something fresh out of the Chelsea grassroots academy.

She was nice but a bit overbearing, practically hanging off you for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, this left you with little time to spend with your favourite person.

-

Zećira, much like yourself, was ridiculously grumpy all training. Normally she’d have you to herself for most of it. 

Of course, being a striker and a goalkeeper, you had separate sessions to each other, but the warmups are generally intermingled.

So, when you had paired up for drills, you were the first person to grab her, just about growling at anyone who tried to pair up with her instead of you.

That said, the new kid, Sally?

She doesn’t really remember, nor care…

To be fair, she’d been latched onto you like a leech the whole time. It was obnoxious the number of times she was verbally and physically throwing herself at you.

Zećira could ignore it most of the time, given she had to focus on her own drills with the others, but she couldn’t miss the tone of Sadie’s voice every time she came within hearing distance of you both.

It was a sickly-sweet tone with heavy undertones, and it annoyed the Swedish woman to no end.

Regardless, even if it was annoying her, you looked like you’d been completely oblivious to the most obnoxiously obvious flirtations Sarah sent your way.

That’s what frustrated her the most, your ignorance of the situation at hand and the way you let the twenty-two-year-old cling to you like that.

Now that you’re in the bar, Zećira is watching as Summer leans uncomfortably close to you, hand grazing your arm as she animatedly asks you question after question about your life and what it’s like on the senior team.

You don't step away from it, not really, although, it seems, even you have your friendly limits.

The goalkeeper feels her chest start to heat up with the familiar low burn of jealousy.

A cough from across the table catches her attention.

“Zee, the staring isn’t subtle.”

There’s a raised brow on Niamh’s face as she glances back and forth between you and the goalkeeper with a small smirk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Even if that’s the case, the poor newbie over there is definitely feeling your laser glare right about now.”

Zećira’s glare moves to the Canadian across from her.

“Good, I hope so.”

Both of them let out a small snort at the Swede, nudging her shin when she turns back to you, making her look away again.

“What?”

“For the love of god, just tell her, she’s definitely not into flirty pants over there, and you have the best chance out of literally anyone here.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about. You pair are crazy.”

The pair groaned and just shoved the goalkeeper away from the table and out of her seat.

“Go save the poor woman, at least. If you won’t acknowledge your blatantly obvious love for our Striker, the least you can do is pull McFlirt over there off her."

-

“Oh my god, you’re so right!”

Savannah’s voice was getting a little grating in your ears now.

Flinching away at the loudness of the laugh so close to your ear, you cover it up with a signal to the bartender to bring you another glass of Vodka Soda, given you weren’t driving now anyway and the trainers weren’t here to scold you for drinking midseason.

“So- “

A soft throat clearing from just behind your shoulder makes the newbie in front of you jump a little out of her focus on you.

The warmth radiating from Zećira with how close she’s standing to you makes you relax back into the goalkeeper but also lightly shiver with the proximity.

“Oh... hi. You’re Zekira, right?”

You look up slightly at the raven-haired woman just in time to see her eye twitch slightly at the pronunciation.

“It’s Zećira actually.”

“Of course, right.”

There’s a small, awkward silence before Zećira clears her throat again.

“So Selena-“

“It’s Savannah.”

“Right, I think Niamh and Jessie were looking to talk to you.”

The blonde lights up suddenly at the mention of the two, to which when she makes eye contact with them as they look towards the suddenly excited new girl, they glare back at her when she smirks at them.

Once the girl disappears to go find the Canadian and English friends, Zećira turns to you with a small smile that you gratefully reciprocate.

Leaning back into the taller woman, you offer her the seat now free in front of you next to the bar but she shakes her head, instead gently grabbing your hand, leading you towards the outdoor area of the bar, settling in by one of the heaters.

It’s not a particularly cold night, but it’s just chilly enough to have a reasonable excuse to tuck yourself under her arm and lean your head on her shoulder.

It was silent now, but not like before.

The quiet was a welcome one, and it was quite common between you.

Zećira was your favourite person for the same reason you were hers.

Not that either of you really knew that.

You were both quiet people. You enjoyed the company of the rarely brooding but often times peacefully listening goalkeeper.

If you’d needed to rant, she’s always been an open ear for you.

If you needed a hug, she’s right there to give the warmest, tightest, sweetest hug you’ve ever had. They’d send tingles down your spine, and her hands are always sure on your lower back as your arms wrap around her neck.

The smell of her shampoo leaves you feeling slightly dizzy when you’d bury your face there after long and tiring days.

Her hand would settle on your knee comfortingly when you curl up beside her while binging tv shows after every one of your breakups.

Her overall presence keeps you going day to day.

Despite that. You were only friends.

Good friends, but friends nonetheless.

Right?

“Hey, I have to pee, I’ll be right back.”

Zećira hums softly and lifts her arm to let you out of the booth again.

Making your way over to the bathroom, you do your business, and as you're washing your hands to touch up, the door creaks open behind you, and you lift your head to look at them.

It’s Savannah.

“Oh hey, I was looking for you, I was wondering if maybe we could, you know, hang out some time?”

“Like to practise and stuff?”

“Well, I mean more like, come to dinner with me.”

Oh.

Right as you’re about to answer with a soft no to let her down easy, the door opens behind her and Zećira walks in, looks slowly between the two of you before slipping into a stall herself.

There's a small awkward silence now as you shift uncomfortably under the stare of her.

“Look, as nice as you are, I’m not interested in dating right now. And you're far younger than me, I'm sorry but I'm just not interested.”

“At least give me a chance to- “

Zećira steps out of the stall at that exact moment, moving to the sinks.

“Look, kid, she said no, maybe take that as an answer instead of embarrassing yourself further, alright?”

She punctuates it with little flicks of water at the sink after washing her hands.

Savannah’s face turns bright red, and she mumbles a quiet apology and ducks out of the door swiftly.

You turn to the Swedish woman with a raised brow.

“What’s up with you, grumpy?”

She feigns confusion and looks at you funny, moving to dry her hands on some paper towel.

“What are you talking about?”

“You never get that snappy with anyone, even the persistent ones.”

Zećira steels her expression lightly but stays quiet.

“Zee…?”

It catches you off guard when she steps forward, hands grabbing your waist to walk you back into the wall.

The small “oof” you let out echoes in the small dimly lit bathroom, and your cheeks flush as her grip tightens on you.

“Zee… what are you- “

At that, she swiftly leans down to capture your lips with her own. A small gasp leaves your mouth but is quickly smothered, and one hand reaches up to grip the back of her neck while the other rests on her cheek.

The more your lips move together, the more antsy you get, and you nip at her lower lip slightly as she pulls back to take a breather.

Her lips are slightly swollen, and you can’t imagine yours aren’t the same.

With flushed cheeks, she dips back into you again, this time, though, her hands grip the underside of your thighs and lift you up onto the counter with a small squeak erupting from your lips.

“Zee, we’re gonna get caught -"

“So let them, even better if it’s that little-“

With a soft shake of your head, you pull her back in again to shut her up.

It’s a softer, slower kiss this time, one that she takes her time pulling away from.

With slow abated breaths, you move your other hand to cup the other side of her face.

“If you’re gonna kiss me like that in a bathroom, give a girl a warning first.”

Zećira blushes harder this time and almost pulls away out of fear of rejection, but you quickly tighten your legs around her waist, holding her to you.

“Something you wanna tell me, Zee?”

The small, curious, and teasing smile on your lips makes her stop.

Though, there must be something in your eyes at that point because she relaxes against you, hands moving back to grip your thighs again.

“Can I tell you later, because you and I both know what’s gonna come out of my mouth next and I really want to keep kissing you.”

A finger on her lips stops her from leaning down again and you raise a brow giggling softly.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Du betyder allt för mig.” (You mean everything to me)

Your heart races. You knew Swedish enough to understand what she just said, and it completely catches you off guard.

But you release a shaky breath and let your hand fall onto the back of her neck again.

“Inte vad jag förväntade mig....” (Not what I expected)

She stops for a second. You continue.

“But it’s what I needed to hear.”

Her breath hitches at that, and you tug her down again, her hands tightening their grasp, nails digging slightly into your skin, leaving you keening into her.

At the noise escaping from the back of your throat, she slips them up to ride under your shirt, tracing a small path into the skin beneath the fabric.

You make a half attempt to pull her closer yet, pressing yourself right to her, hips rocking into her softly.

She groans at the way your nails dig into her shoulders when she trails kisses down the side of your jawline, tracing a line straight down to the junction of your neck and shoulder.

Tilting your head to give her more access, your breathing becomes more ragged, and your eyes flutter shut as her teeth take the skin there and tug lightly, her lips soothing the ministrations behind them.

Shifting to give herself a little space, her fingers move to swiftly unbutton the fabric currently standing in her way and with a soft growl, she finally tugs it open, head dropping to press kisses to your collarbone, nipping occasionally.

“Fuck.”

You breathe out when Zećira’s fingers dip below the waistline of your slacks, half tugging at them.

“Off.”

The commanding tone is firm but a little breathless as she pulls back to look you dead in the eye.

Letting out a soft pleading whine, you obediently lift your hips to let her tug them down along with your underwear at the same time, leaving you bare to the cool air, to which you shiver slightly.

A slight brush of her fingertips on your clit is enough to have you whimpering into her mouth.

You’ve never been this sensitive to someone’s touch but there’s something about the taller woman in front of you now, teeth digging into your lower lip, fingers still teasing you, that has you losing your mind on a public bathroom counter.

“Please.”

It’s a soft, keening whine, but it makes her chuckle, and she hushes you, thumb coming up to tug at your lip before her other hand finally applies enough pressure to your clit to have you bucking up into her hand.

“So wet for me already, Princesse.”

There’s a small tone of surprise behind it, and you nod at her, guiding her hand down lower with small encouraging whispers of “Please baby. I need you.”

She traces small circles around your clit for a moment and slowly dips her index and middle finger down, working them into you from the awkward angle of the sink.

She uses her hand to muffle your moans before they become too loud and starts thrusting at a fast pace, fingers bending at the right spot, leaving you a moaning mess embarrassingly quickly, completely at her mercy as she fucks you.

Her wrist moves her thrusts into you a bit harder, and you have to fight not to moan any loader lest someone catch you like you’d been fearing this whole time.

When she ducks her head down to mouth at the skin of your collarbone again, you know you’re a goner. 

A whimpering, keening, moaning mess.

The fact she’s got you this close this fast has you a little concerned for your own stamina, but it’s wiped from your mind the moment her lips are on yours again.

Hearing you moaning like this for her only makes her double her efforts, fingers tapping your g-spot with renewed vigour, and it throws you close to the edge swiftly.

You can feel your legs start to tremble a little, and she can feel you tighten around her, her thrusts meeting a little more resistance now.

“That’s it, älskling.”

The soft praise only spurs you on and your hips lift to meet her thrusts and it takes but a few brushes of her thumb on your clit to send you over.

Thighs twitching, legs tightening around the goalkeepers hips as your back arches into her.

She’s muttering sweet nothings to you as you come down, soft muttered "you're so beautiful"'s and "Good girl"'s.

If you weren't already mid orgasm, that in itself would have sent you over.

“My sweet, beautiful girl.”

There’s a slight whine in your throat when her thumb moves against your clit a little, still sensitive from your orgasm just mere seconds ago.

“Zee.”

It’s a soft, breathy whine, and she smiles, removing her hand slowly and taking your lips with hers again.

“I love hearing my name on your lips, I need to hear it more, back to my place?”

You nod swiftly, letting her guide your underwear and pants back up, the haze of an orgasm still very much on your mind.

On shaky legs, you clean up a little, settling the sex-mussed hair on both of you and attempting, albeit failing, to cover up all of the marks left on your neck with her jacket which she settles around your shoulders after you shiver a little when you step out of the bathroom.

Thankfully, the bathroom is around a corner from where your teammates are tucked away in a set of booths so you both wave at them from a distance as you exit the bar, ignoring the looks you get from them.

Zećira guides you down the concrete sidewalk towards her car in the small parking lot beside the building.

-

Zećira can hardly focus on getting her keys in the lock with you nipping at her collarbone the way you are. That and your hands have slipped under the fabric of her button-up shirt to gently scratch at the skin of her abs.

“Älskling, please, need a second to get the door open.”

You feign innocence, a small pout on your lips, but they quirk up a little at her while she shakes her head lightly at the cheeky expression on your face.

Slipping your hands further up, she whines when you cup her through her bra, hands cold against her skin.

She curses the key in her hand when she finally gets the door unlocked, dragging you inside by the collar to slam you against it.

"Couldn't behave for one second to get us inside, could you?"

Chuckling, you tug her closer by the belt loops.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She rolls her eyes.

"I'm sure you don't."

Following swiftly with that, her knee presses between your legs, hands fully unbottoning and removing your shirt now, tossing it to the side.

"Eager?"

The smug grin on your face has her a little flustered, but she raises a brow down at you.

"I've finally got you here to myself, I'm not wasting anymore time getting you in my bed."

You chuckle softly, hands grabbing hers to steady them before pulling off and throwing her jacket to the side, hands tugging at her button-up to slowly remove it, softly grazing the skin of her shoulders as you push it off.

"We have all the time in the world, Baby. I'm not going anywhere."

She softens, and her hands grasp yours, gently tugging you down the hall to her bedroom, walking half turned towards you, eyes locked on yours.

"I'm right here, Zee. I'm all yours."

The soft reassurance has the last of her nerves settling once again, making way for the sweet, charming Zećira you know and love.

The shakiness in her limbs disappears altogether, making it easier for her to pull you back into her, hands settling on your hips, and she kisses you.

You lean up into it, pushing back as she applies a little more force into it, letting it fall naturally heavier with every move, nip, and caress.

A warmth starts to settle back into your stomach, and you nudge her towards the bed, to which she flips you back onto the mattress, hovering over you.

It's in slow movements, met with kissing you all the way back until your head hits the pillows.

You're craving her warmth a little more, so you tug the swede down onto you rather forcefully, leaving little room for argument as her hand slips under your shirt to grip at your chest, kneading the soft flesh there with a small sigh.

A whine slips out from the back of your throat when her fingers roll your nipple between them, pinching and tugging at the skin gently.

The taller woman pushes herself up slightly, kneeling, and pulls you up with her.

Soft, tender hands move to the buttons of your shirt, move, and undo each one slowly until reaches the bottom one, to which her two fingers under your chin bring your gaze back up to meet hers.

"Eyes on me, sweetheart."

You just about melt under the slowly darkening gaze of the woman.

The single flick of her fingers to unclip your bra and throw it to meet the discarded shirt has your mind nearly turned to mush right there.

With a soft muttered, "So beautiful."

She's swift to kiss you and push you back into the pillow, resuming her previous actions.

The cool air in the room does little to sate the heat taking over your skin, everywhere she touches, feels like a small fire under her fingertips, leaving you keening into her touch.

One hand remains on your breast, the other tracing a minuscule path over your ribcage and to the edge of your pants, tugging at the fabric.

She doesn't have to ask this time, though, as you immediately lift your hips to allow her to pull them off.

Her kisses trail away from your lips, shifting down across your jawline, to your collarbone, occasionally leaving small nips on the way down.

Down to your chest, lips wrapping around your nipple, suckling and leaving you a whimpering mess.

The more your whines turn to soft pleas, the more she smirks against your skin when she lets the nipple go and continues a featherlight trail of kisses across your stomach.

"Baby, please."

You can feel the wave of hot air come from her as she chuckles against you.

"What's the matter, darling?"

"I need you."

The keening whine behind the words just have her amused as you buck up into her.

"Yeah? Tell me where. Where do you need me?"

The fact she’s trying to make you think like this, is criminal alone, and it makes you whimper when she extricates herself from your vicinity, a soft but stern tone behind her words.

"Tell me, Y/n. What do you need from me?"

"I need your mouth, fingers, anything. Please just touch me, baby."

A smug, mocking tone makes you whine.

"But I am touching you baby."

Attempting to grab her and pull her back into you, she chuckles and tuts at you, pulling away from your grasp.

"I need you inside me, on me, anything please."

It seems she's satisfied with that because she leans down once again.

Peeling off your underwear, she groans softly at the dampened fabric, head immediately moving to press kisses to the insides of your thighs, hands slipping under them and urging your legs over her shoulders, manoeuvring herself to be directly over your centre.

Hot puffs of air directly hitting your clit leaves you gripping the sheets tightly, breathing more than a little ragged.

"Look at me."

Your head lifts from where it had fallen back, eyes flitting to meet hers in the faintly lit room.

"Good girl."

With that, her mouth is on you swiftly, tongue taking in your taste with a breathy groan.

The warm, firm muscle makes you buck your hips up with a small jerk.

"Jesus, Zee."

Your hand shoots to her hair, gripping the raven locks tightly.

The grunt you're rewarded with has your legs shaking a little with the vibrations and it only makes her grip on your thighs tighten.

Her tongue laps at you, lips taking in your clit with a sharp suck before releasing and returning to thrust into your entrance.

Inevitably, when you let your head drop back against the pillow, a sharp pinch to the leg jolts you back to watch her again

"Keep watching, älskling, don't make me ask again."

The slightly cooler warmth of her breath contrasts against the startling heat of her mouth as it once again latches itself around your clit.

With the way she's devouring you, it feels like her tongue has found a home between your legs, the skillful swift flicks and swipes have your legs trembling beneath the strong grip of her hands over the skin of your thighs.

The moans she's drawing from you feel unrestricted, being released with no thought to them like you’d always done with everyone else.

She makes you feel safe here, in the dimly room of her home, secure beneath her sure touch, without need to restrain yourself.

You feel freer and safer than ever.

One hand releasing your leg brings you back to her, to the warmth of her taking you in with small, breathy groans.

It trails over your hip, gliding over your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast before sliding off to slip your hand into it, tangling your fingers together like they had been in the sheets only moments ago.

The build-up in your gut suddenly alerts you to the oncoming orgasm, the wave having completely snuck up on you.

"F-fuck. Zee, I'm gonna.."

You barely have time to register the small hum against you that's paired with the harsh suck that sends you kareening over.

Her hand squeezes yours, your legs wrap tighter around her shoulders and head, and her eyes follow the way your back arches up and your hips buck into her mouth, her other hand forcing your hips back into mattress.

She can feel her own arousal building just at the sight of you writhing beneath her, chest heaving with the efforts of her mouth on you.

The way her already dark brown eyes dilate at watching you cum on her tongue, the flood of your taste meeting her tastebuds as she slips her tongue inside you to clean up.

Her hand never leaves yours until you're needily fisting at her to pull her up to eye level once again, wasting no time kissing her.

The sweet, slightly tangy taste of yourself on her lips has you whining softly, and it takes little effort to push her onto her back, straddling her waist.

"Okay?"

You raise a brow at the soft pout on her lips.

"Who said I was done with you?"

Chuckling, you lean down to capture her lips in a brief, soft peck.

"No one, baby, it's my turn, now relax. I've been dying to taste you."

Clearly, your words have an effect on her, because you can feel the shiver run through her beneath you, and the way her fingers grip your hips tighter along with the small sigh she let's out when your lips trail down her exposed collarbone.

You're met with little resistance once your teeth dig into the soft pale skin of her chest, above the line of her bra, as you pull her up to sit up so you can reach behind to tug open the clasp.

Tossing it away, her hands find the back of your head, pulling you back down to kiss her again.

A smile crosses your lips against hers, and you press her back down into the mattress once again, hands holding you up either side of her head.

It takes but a small whine from her when you kiss down to her chest to have you nearly grinding down into her again.

Instead, you focus on the growing want to absolutely ruin the woman below you.

Teeth nipping small marks into her chest, your lips wrap around her nipple, tugging at the nub and releasing it with a small pop, relishing in the ragged gasps coming from above you.

Her fingers have fully tangled in your hair, pleading tugs every now and then, urging you on.

You only chuckle softly at her insistence.

"What's the matter, baby?"

Taking on the same mocking coo she held with you earlier, which she whines and almost rolls her eyes at, your hands still, laying flat over her stomach with your hips settled on top of her own.

"Älskling, baby, please..."

You gently smack away the hand that reaches for you with a smirk.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

The huff she lets out only widens your smile.

"I did not tease you this much."

"Answer the question, Zećira."

Ignoring her indignant whine, you slide a hand up her chest again, fingers twisting and moulding the soft flesh of her breast.

Hearing in that moment, the moment she gives in, the exhale.

A soft curse in swedish, followed by a whimper when you playfully grind your hips down and she's pleading.

"Älskling, god, please baby, fuck me."

"What was that, baby?"

It earns you a small, frustrated whine.

"Your fingers, fuck me with your fingers, your tongue baby please, anything, I need you."

A triumphant grin crosses your face as you lean down to reward the woman, lips meeting hers, hand slipping down to tug at the button on her jeans.

The way she eagerly lifts her hips up, her own hands encouraging yours as you tug down the fabric obstructing you, has you grinning up at the goalkeeper.

Not wanting to tease the woman any more than you had already, you tug down her underwear almost immediately after.

Frankly, you didn't feel like waiting any longer either, only torturing yourself more the longer you waited.

Sitting back on your haunches, just below her knees, reaching out a slow, gentle hand to trace a path down from her stomach to her hip.

To her inner thigh before finally settling, hovering over where she needs you.

Your forefinger and middlefinger apply a small amount of pressure, testing the waters as she watches with shallow rises and falls in her chest.

"Älskling.."

It would sound like a warning if it wasn't paired with a sharp gasp, eliciting when you glide your fingers further down to slip them inside her.

She's soaked through, and you have to hold back the soft groan as you feel her clench around you.

The feeling makes you shift downwards almost immediately, making slow, long strokes as you do so, with gentle curves of your fingers.

Hearing her beg and curse for you like this, you never want this to stop.

With that, your mouth lowers to take her, her hand in your hair now an encouraging force on your head as your tongue drags over her clit.

Her head falls back onto the pillow with what you can only describe as a small pleasured sigh of relief, and you giggle softly, letting your drag down, and back up again, lapping at the wetness accumulating around your hand.

Your other hand keeps her leg steady against the mattress, allowing you easier access as your thrusts speed up.

"Fu-"

She's never been an overtly loud person, so having her moan and curse for you like this, underneath your mouthing ministrations, only drives you even more crazy.

"Så vacker." (So beautiful).

It's a soft mutter against the skin of her inner thigh, paired with small kisses that you trail up to her hip again, meanwhile keeping pace, fingers curling inside her.

With the way her hips buck up into your face, you get the inkling that you speaking swedish to her has her losing her mind above you.

Or it could be the fact you're buried between her legs eating her like she's your last meal.

You don't mind either way.

Getting to hear her like this fuels you alone.

It feels like no time at all passes before her moans shift, and she's crenching a little harder around your fingers while her own tightens in your hair.

"Fuck, Y/n, I-."

"I know, baby. Go ahead, cum for me."

Curling your fingers just right in time with her thrusts, her moans halt as she seizes up, legs trembling around your head.

She's absolutely beautiful when she cums, you've decided.

Her hands slowly release their grip on your tresses and the sheets below the both of you, breathing slower and deeper as she comes down.

Zećira's eyes meet yours once again, noting the shining smug but also awed glint in them.

In that moment, she's decided she's going to drag as many orgasms out of you as she can tonight, unable to be patient enough to wait to see the look on your face once again as your legs shake around her head.

"Get up here."

There's no hesitation. You're up straddling her waist once again as she's sitting up to grip your neck to pull you down to her level.

Her hands settle on your hips once again, sliding back around to cusp your ass, giving the cheeks a quick squeeze, and you giggle softly at the blissed out look in her eyes.

She's absolutely gorgeous with swollen lips, purple marks marring her collarbone, and hair mussed from your hands being buried in them earlier.

They quickly return to that position, fingers carding through the dark locks, thumbs coming to caress her face as you lean down again to kiss her, slower and softer this time.

Loving.

Caring.

Thankful.

Both of you are more than feeling all of that.

There's a shining, loving look in her eyes as she looks up at you, and you feel it flow through your chest in a wave of warmth that makes your skin tingle.

"Hey Zee?"

She hums softly.

"Du betyder allt för mig också." (You mean everything to me, too.)

She grins up at you and the sound of your giggle can be heard as she flips the both of you over onto your back with her on top, lips taking yours in a very much smile filled kiss.

"Feelin' okay?"

"Amazing, you?"

You've never felt safer than here, in her arms.

-

[cxrsed-angel]

epistolae|marcus x fem!reader

summary: After two months of not hearing back from your husband while he's fighting a war, you worry about him and fear that he he may not be coming back to you alive, you re-read his previous letters as an attempt to calm your anxieties.

w.c: 3k

warning: angst, allusion to oral (f!receiving), brief mentions of pregnancy/postpartum, badly translated latin forgive me I stayed up so late using 4 different translators lol

a/n: this is my first time writing for acacius/ non Joel fic and this is also for @jolapeno's dear-uary challenge, my prompt was: A times capsule of letters written at different stages of life, predicting or confronting the future. I hope I did it justice and it makes sense also I made canva letter graphics for fun but I know they're difficult to read the letters are also included in the fic like normally I just wanted to something different and fun. <3

It’s going on two months since you last received a letter from your husband. Weeks of trying your best not to think of the worst, but it gets harder as each day without a letter passes. He usually responds to your letters sooner. It had been almost a month since he'd been away fighting for more land yet again. You wrote to him a few days ago but still haven’t heard anything back, which worries you. For the two years you had been husband and wife, he wrote back consistently, never going more than a few days without a response. The longest it had been was three weeks at most, but now it's going on to next month, and still nothing. Two months have passed since he had left you, and your concern grows that he is injured…or worse. That this may be the time that he does not come back home to you. 

You remember the first time he had to leave after you married. It was only a week after the emperors sent him away to fight and conquer more land for them. You leave your bed and go to the desk in your room, where you write your letters to your husband and store the ones he writes to you. You open the drawer, flipping through them to find the first one he sent. At the bottom of the stack, you open the envelope, re-reading it like you've done what seems like hundreds of times. You hold the paper, reading it yet again. 

“My carissima uxor, my carissima amor, 

I know this will be our first time being separated from each other since we’ve married. I know it must be harder for you. I am used to being away, but I can only imagine how empty our room and our bed must feel for you. But I do not want you to be alone, isolated in my leave, missing me. You should perhaps read new books, maybe garden, or speak with the other ladies. It will be more bearable if you occupy your time by keeping busy. I know it is hard. I will not say that it gets easier, for it does not, but it can be tolerable. I miss you terribly, but I will return home to you shortly. I love you.”

 ~ M

You hold the letter, remembering how alone you had felt those first few days he had left. You were not from Rome and did not have any family here, and you only spoke to Marcus primarily after your wedding, so when he left, you had no one to talk to. The first day, you did wallow away in bed, isolating yourself. The emperor's palace you resided in felt massive and empty without Acacius walking the halls with you and helping you around. But once you received his letter and took his suggestion, it did help. You started drawing, attending different activities and plays to distract yourself, and it did help some. But you still missed him deeply, especially at night. You miss laying in his arms, feeling his hands caressing you, rubbing your back as you fall asleep. You miss the rare times you would wake up before him and could admire his sleeping form, admire how gorgeous and peaceful he looked while he rested, but he was right that it eventually became more bearable.

You flip through the other letters you had received from him, reminiscing, thinking about him. You open another and see the date.  It was a little after a year since you've married Acacius. At this point you had gotten more comfortable with your husband being away. You still missed him greatly but had found ways to make it more manageable, and receiving his letter such as this one helped you feel connected and close to him while he was miles away. You remember he had sent the letter was when he had been sent to speak to the general of Galli to prevent sending his men to another war, but he hated it when he was forced to play politician. He sent you countless letters during the duration of this trip. It felt nice to get them more often. It was a little after a year since you've married Acacius. At this point you had gotten more comfortable with your husband being away. You still missed him greatly but had found ways to make it more manageable, and receiving his letter such as this one helped you feel connected and close to him while he was miles away.  It eased your mind knowing that he may be miserable, but he was safe and had the luxuries of a bed and a bath provided to him by his accommodations. You pick one envelope from the pile opening it to read.

“Carissima, 

I am most miserable here, my accommodations are pleasant but it is not our bed or our room, it lacks your presence. I miss sleeping next to you, having breakfast with you, and seeing your new drawings or paintings of the courtyard. I am forced to play with politics, which is not my strong suit. I have attended meetings during the day, parties at night, and talked with numerous people. I am tired deliciae. But if it prevents another senseless war, then it is worth it. I enjoyed your letters, and reading about your days, and the small drawing of our garden you sent of me was beautiful, a pleasant reminder of home. Your drawing is improving much. I wish you were here with me, little dove, you'd make it much more manageable, fun even. I leave for Rome the day after next and should be home with you soon. Te amor.”

~M

You smile, remembering when he returned from his trip and brought you many gifts from Galli. Necklaces, bracelets, and rings, fragrances, and paintings. You've told him numerous times that he didn't need to bring back so much, but of course, he never listens. You fold the letter inside its envelope and return it to the others. It's late, nearing midnight, and you aren't tired but have nothing else to do to preoccupy yourself, so you decide to lie in bed. You close the desk drawers with the letters in it, then prepare for bed. Changing into a tinner tunic dress to sleep you.  

You lay in your bed, the gold silk covering your body as you rest your head against the comfortable pillow filled with soft feathers and covered in white silk, trying to fall asleep. Instead, you toss and turn, looking at the empty side of the bed. You reach out gently, rubbing the empty linens, feeling the absence of your husband. It was, as always, the most challenging at night, lying in the room’s silence and feeling how empty and alone your bed was without him. You close your eyes, praying to the gods that he’ll return soon, healthily, and safely back to you.  

The next day, you're cleaning yours and Marcus's chambers, stress cleaning if you’re being honest. You knew that you’re not supposed to clean that you were supposed to let the miad and the help do it, but you couldnt. You didnt want to go out there with the ladies of the court, you could handle their gossping or fake a smile at the insipid conversations about dress colors or who they fucked that week. Cleaning was at least a doable distraction. Scrubbing the floors provides a way of preoccupying your mind. After washing the floors, you move onto your books and Marcus’s papers around the desk. Deciding to organize your books, large piles of books surround you as you sit on the floor, legs crossed, putting the books into groups. 

  You’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You know it can't be your beloved returning because he would be greeted with a warm and loud welcome back to Rome, along with a party hosted by the emperors which he would have preferred to spead the evening alone with you. Because you knew it wasnt him you couldn’t bother looking up from the books when responding. 

“Yes? Come in.” One of the housemaids enters your room while you organize your book selection. 

“Mrs. Acacius, you have received a letter from the military.” The second you hear the word military come out of her mouth, you’re standing, stepping over the piles of books, nearly tripping over the pile of books on the floor as you rush to her looking at the letter. 

“Yes, um I’ll take it. Thank you very much.” You give her a small smile as she leaves, and you close the door behind her before looking down at the envelope and seeing the familiar Roman Empire seal on it. You slowly rub it, feeling your heart beat out of your chest. You couldn’t wait to see what your husband had written without bothering with a letter opener. Excited at the though that he had finally responded to you. Eagerly you tear the paper with your finger, tossing the envelope onto the floor. 

 As you open it, unfolding the letter expecting to see the comforting penmanship of your love, but you don't. Instead, you’re greeted with unfamiliar penmanship, its very obviously not Marcus’ handwriting, and your heart sinks, dropping to the pit of your stomach as you grip the paper tighter. You anxiously glaze over the letter, looking at the unknown penmanship, confused. Immediately, you start thinking of what could've happened to him, where he couldn’t write to you himself. Your hand feels clamming and sweating, but you try to calm your breath as best you can, which wasn't much considering it was still rapid. After a few seconds of analyzing the handwriting, you finally read it. Seeing the top of the letter is greeted with your name instead of one of the nicknames Marcus has given you. The sight of your name feels cold, a heartless greeting, unlike the warmth you were used to when receiving Marcus's letter. You feel your stomach starting to twist, but you start reading. 

“Ad uxorem Acacius, 

This is Tiberius. I am writing to you because your husband wished for me to inform you of his condition. General Acacius fell ill shortly after claiming the land we sought. He has been resting and unable to write at the time. The general also endured a slight wound in battle but is healing well. We leave to return to Rome tomorrow. 

General Acacius was too tired, and weak to write, told me to write, that he apologizes for the lack of letters and that he will be home shortly. 

Tiberius.”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you felt a tear drop onto the letter. You re-read it for what feels like a hundred times wishing there was more. Your hands are still shaky as you set the letter on the desk. You take a deep breath before going to your bed to sit. You try to calm your mind and reassure yourself that your worst fears haven’t come true. He was just ill and slightly wounded, but he was still coming home to you. You knew Tiberius was his second in command, and if something had gone seriously wrong, you would’ve been notified. Yet thet didnt ease your worries. You hope he hadn’t pushed himself too far to the point that he had gotten sick. Damn, those emperors and their incessant greed for land to control yet could not retrieve themselves. They can’t even manage the land they have already claimed. Unrest and turmoil fill the streets of Rome and have only worsened since you arrived. 

You crumple the paper, tossing it onto the floor before  lying back on the bed. You can't help but let the tears fall. A mixture of frustration and worry fills your brain, and you can't hold it in anymore. You stare up at the painted ceiling, wishing he could just appear in bed next to you, wishing you could be there for him, wishing you could see the state he was in. Wishing you could nurse your husband back to health yourself. The letter was vague and undescriptive, and it gave you no details about him at all. How ill was he? How injured was he? How bad was it that he couldn’t have written you himself? What kind of injury was it? A million questions flood your mind as you cry. All you wanted was your husband back in your arms. You missed him so much, and the month worth of emotions you’ve held in had reached the point had finally overfilled and you couldnt hold it in any longer. You turn in the empty bed that suddenly feels to big, and cry into the linens. You let yourself cry for as long as you feel like. It feels like hours of crying holding onto his pillow taking in the faint smell of your husband that lingered on the pillow.

After a few hours, when it felt like you have cried all the tears your body could make you get out of bed. You stand up quietly, deciding to put the books on the floor away, trying your best to do different activities the rest of the day to distract yourself, but you can not. Marcus’ state and health remain on your mind constantly. 

Later at night, you quietly look out the window staring as your mind wander, you decided to eat dinner alone tonight instead of joining most of the court in the dining hall, you could’nt stand being near the emperors hearing them cheer, laugh, drink, ignorant and careless to the effects their greed for control and land has. If you were in the dining hall you fear you would have hurled a knife at one of them which would get you killed, so your room was the best option. 

After finishing your dinner you, decide to draw yourself a bath, you grab some oils your husband had been gifted over the time of being General. Pouring olive oil, lavender oil, rose oil into the tub before getting into the hot water. The candles lit around the bathroom calmed your as you lean back against the tub closing your eyes. Once again thinking of Marcus, missing him, wishing he was in the tub with you. Your back resting against his his chest, sitting between his legs as he massages you. You open your eyes as if he would appear in front of you in the bath, when they opened. Of course though he doesnt. After your bath you dry yourself off with a towel and blowing out the candles in your bathroom and bedroom, getting to go to bed. You knew it would be hard to fall asleep as it as been for months. You lay in bed in one of your night gowns, sleeping just in your panties felt more comfortable. You close your eyes.

“Please. Please come home, safe, alive. Please Marcus.” You pray a similar prayer you had prayed everynight since he hadnt replied to your letters.  

You're deep asleep, clinging onto the pillow, imagining it was your beloved sleeping next to you.  The creaking of the big door to your bedroom opens slowly, causing you to stir awake. The noise startled You sit up confused, seeing someone walk in but unable to make them out in the darkness, which scared you. No one ever enters without asking or after you had asked so you were greatly confused. You thought this was it, they had woken you up to tell you that you husband had passed, died out in war. You sigh taking a breath before grabbing your robe that laid on a nearby chaise putting it on as you stand up. 

“Hello?” you call out, but immediately, once you see the figure in the shadow, you see a tall, board-framed frame his curls messily above his head, that you know who it is immediately. You can not mistake who it is. 

“Carissima…sorry to wake you.” Marcus’s deep raspy voice instantly responds, gaining your attention. You go over to your nightstand stand, lighting a candle. When you turn around, your husband's face is illuminated, his brown eyes evident with exhaustion. You look at him, and he looks sick and weak. You've never seen him look this tired. You go up to him as he grabs your hands, holding them in his larger hands, as tears start to slip down your face, you couldn’t believe he was home but you were also worried about his state and how bad his injuries were. 

“They…they told me you were sick? And injured? And I didn’t hear from you for weeks…I-I was so worried. What….what happened? Where are you injured?” you ask, assessing him, trying to find evidence of wounds, bruises, broken limbs, anything. He looks at you, softly kissing your forehead before pulling you against his chest and wrapping his arms around you in a warm, comforting embrace. Your cheek presses against the linens that wears under his armor, taking in his consolingpresence. His arms instantly provide a sense of home and peace you haven't felt since he left.

 “I am fine, Carmissisa. It was a simple cold, and my bad knees… it was a small pain, both of them combined did not provide optimal traveling conditions, my love.” He wipes the tears away with his thumb, holding your face softly. 

“I missed you, Marcus. When you didn’t write back, I-I thought I lost you.” The tears continue to fall, and he shakes his head before kissing the top of your head and looks at you warmly, reassuring you that he is here and safe. 

“I said I’d always return home to you. I promised you and intend to keep that promise dulicissima. I am sorry to have worried you, my love. ” He rubs your waist softly before his hand reaches your chin, pulling your lips onto his. Your eyes close, melting against him. His arms move closer to his chest as his arms move down to your waist. Your heart slows, finally feeling at ease and peace, feeling the familiar sensation of his lips. You lightly flick his bottom lips with your tongue, asking for more, and he obliges, deepening the kiss you press against him wanting to be closer to him, as close as you can be after months of being away from him. You notice him pulling away first, panting slightly, breathing heavily. He gently guiding you backward towards the bed until you feel it on the back of your legs. You get on the bed, laying back, watching Marcus kiss up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your tunic up around your hips. 

His hands move up your thighs as he lays in between your legs. His noses presses against your legs as he kisses up your legs, to your thighs, up your hips. 

 His kisses move up towards your inner thigh, his thumbs ghosting around the fabric of your panties before slowly taking them off his nose presses against your pussy as he presses his lips against it, giving it a kiss as his thumb rubs your inner thigh, drawing a whine out of you. 

 “Let me show you…how much I missed my wife.”

A Few Years Later…

You’re with your baby girl, Aelia, in the courtyard, playing with her as she lays on her back, wrapped in the linens you had sewn for after her arrival. You see your husband’s beautiful big brown eye in her as she looks up at you. She’s only a few months old, laying on a beautiful purple blanket Marcus had made for her when she was born, giggling and smiling at you as you shake a toy that made a noise she seems to enjoy greatly. You’re interrupted when you notice a guard bringing you a letter. Your name is written in the familiar penmanship of your husband. You pick up your daughter along with the letter and return inside the palace, going back to your room. You set Aelia down in her bassinet before grabbing the letter opener from the desk and opening the letter from your husband who has been away for a few days, eager to hear from him.

“My dulicissima,”

“I am returning to my accommodations after buying the home we saw earlier this year. I know you wish to accompany me, but it is a far journey from Rome, and you should be at home resting with Aelia, recovering postpartum, and relaxing. The meeting with the home’s previous owner went well, and we can move in at the end of the month. I am excited to move into our own home, away from my job, my previous job, I mean. I am not used to being retired, but I am grateful that there will no longer be any more long journeys away from you, fighting pointless wars. When I return, we can start preparing and packing to leave the Emperor’s place and enter a home of our own. I leave for Rome in the morning and look forward to being with you. Kiss Aelia for me, my love. See you both soon.”

~M.

tags: @baronessvonglitter 🖤

[purrlockswatson]

Phantom of the Opera (1990), you did Erik proud

Alternate title: Christine, we have beef!

(Meme inspired by this post.)

I have not a bad word for this Erik (and not just because I can feel a certain friend of mine holding a chandelier over my head). The 1990 adaptation made some big changes to the story, but it perfectly captured the childlike soul of Leroux's Erik that is often lost in translation but vital to him. (When I was explaining POTO to someone outside the situation, i. e. my mum, two things I kept using as comparisons were a child and Gollum - not because he's a chaos gremlin, I was trying to describe how he has a skewered perspective of the world that isn't evil but doesn't follow the accepted moral system. But that's for another time.)

I found myself trying very hard not to resent Christine - a first time for me. I will defend her choosing the Compte de Chagny over Erik, she doesn't owe Erik love, no matter what he did for her. The problem is that she took on a responsibility she couldn't possibly carry.

Never, ever assume to fully understand someone. Especially someone like Erik, who thinks and exists on a different pane as most people. Christine was wrong, terribly wrong, to assume she 'knew his heart.'

When faced with a person so sensitive, so particular, when you are the one person trusted by someone who trusts no one, don't make huge gambles like that. She shouldn't have assumed she knew what Erik needs better than he himself does - if he told you he is happy with where they were, then stay there with him! Instead, she pulled the 'I can fix him' and shattered him completely. I don't hate her for being unable to catch Erik when he falls, I hate her for blindly promising to catch him and failing him.

(I do realise how much of the above describes myself and my worries about how people treat me, so fair warning, I may be a bit biased.)

An opinion: in most versions of the story, Erik emotionally manipulates Christine, but here, Christine is the one who is emotionally manipulative. ('Manipulative' may sound malicious, but manipulators aren't always aware of what they're doing.)

In the second part of the series, she said at least three times 'If you love me...' Now, that is one of my least favourite sentences to see and hear in the best of times, but this is somehow even worse because Erik DOES do everything because he loves her. In other versions, there is the question of possessiveness against love when it comes to their relationship; in that context, I would accept her saying this, to remind him that he should love and not obsess over her. But here, Erik is not possessive.

As for Monsieur Carrière, I have beef with him, too. It's an even bigger, tougher slice of beef. He is irresponsible: not once, but twice, he got in relationships and then left his partners when they have children. The first time could be a mistake; the second time, especially when kept Erik's mother in the dark about his marriage, is inexcusable. Yes, he stayed with her till the end, but then left their son in a basement. Yes, he reached out to Erik in the end, but too little, too late. If Erik is emotional and irrational, it's because Carrière never gave him the guidance he should have.

Christine and Carrière love Erik, I don't doubt it. But it's still painful to see Erik fall down through everyone and everything that should have caught him: his talent, his parents, Christine.

If you'll excuse me, I need to cry in the catacombs and draw something miserable.

I talk about several other adaptations here!

[vettelsvee]

THIS IS ALL MY FAULT | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

sebastian vettel x platonic!photographer!reader

based on this request: Okay! So after watching the run Sebastian organized at Imola, I has the idea of reader being someone that works for him (not sure what for though) maybe getting really sick for running in the rain that day, which ends up with Sebastian feeling guilty over it. It’s a silly idea, really, but I think it has a lot of potential to vibes similar to what Sebastian seems to have with the drivers, kind of playing dad to the grid 🥺.

summary: you work as a photographer during the forever senna tribute seb prepared, but you end up being sick

word count: 1618

warnings: none of them really! seb feeling guilty because he thinks reader got sick because of him.

a/n: I'm finally back! sorry for not posting at all during all this past month, university has had me really stressed but I'm finally free from it until september! idk if this is actually something well written because i haven't written anything for a month! also, hope you anon like this even it's definitely crap 😭

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The rain kept falling on the circuit, but that wasn't such an excuse for Sebastian and his team to cancel what they had been working on for months.

The run that the retired driver had decided to organize on Thursday not only with Formula 1 drivers, but also with those from Formula 2 and 3, and even other members of the sport, in honor of Ayrton Senna and Roland Ratzenberger, was more than perfect. It was an absolute success. And Sunday, when Vettel would drive the car that once belonged to the Brazilian pilot who died 30 years ago on that same circuit, hadn't even arrived yet.

You had been busy taking photos of everything, as you were Sebastian's official photographer. Now, you were gathering all the equipment you had used because the cold you were enduring was barely bearable. You had been out in the rain all day, following Seb wherever he went, which had made you feel increasingly worse. Now, your hands couldn't stop shaking, and you felt like you were about to faint at any moment.

"Y/N, are you okay?" one of the team members asked.

"Yes, of course," you replied with a weak smile. "I'm just a bit cold. I'll be back to be the same me as soon as we get back to the hotel."

The man nodded, not wanting to press you further despite not being very convinced by your words after seeing your completely pale face.

You decided to continue with your work, ignoring anyone who approached you to exchange even the slightest word. You tried to ignore the growing headache, the fatigue, and the tightness in your chest, which seemed to be worsening. Although the rain had stopped and you were in one of the garages, the sky remained dark.

You were surprised to see Sebastian, still wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, just a few meters away from you. You shook your head, trying not to pay attention, and certainly not to worry. He was just your "boss," so to speak, and he was old enough to know what he needed to do to avoid getting sick. Well, he also had Britta, who was like a second mother to him.

A sharp pain pierced your temples. You staggered slightly, and if it hadn't been for your momentum making you lean your back against the wall behind you, you would have fallen to the ground.

"For God's sake, Y/N, you look terrible," he said as calmly as he could, though you could sense his nerves in his tone of voice. "You should go and have a rest. Like… now."

"Seb, we still have a lot to do. It's not just packing up the equipment, but also transferring the photos to the computer, editing them, then preparing the posts for you Instagram account..."

"Y/N, I love your work, but you've done more than enough for today," he interrupted, putting a hand on your shoulder, running his fingers carefully over it. "Now, I'll talk to Britta and we'll assign it to someone who knows what they're doing, okay?"

For a moment, you considered protesting, reproaching him that this was your job, and that's why he wanted you on his team since shortly before leaving Aston Martin, but the way he looked at you made you stop. He seemed worried, very worried. That's why you ended up not only reluctantly accepting but also letting him guide you to a nearby chair.

"Stay here. I'll bring you something warm."

As you watched Seb walk away, you sighed, managing to relax somehow. You saw him enter the Red Bull hospitality, and you assumed it was where he felt most comfortable. A few minutes later, you saw the blonde with two small steaming cardboard cups. As he reached your height, he offered you one of them.

"Thank you," you murmured, wrapping your hands around the cup and taking a sip. Chocolate, something you loved, and Seb knew it perfectly.

"Do you promise you'll go back to the hotel as soon as you finish your hot chocolate?"

"I promise," you assured him. "But I can't promise that..."

"Y/N, just no work for today," he cut in, seeing that you weren't going to fulfill what you had promised. "I want you to spend today and tomorrow resting. Sunday will be a tough day for us. You can do it, at least for me, or am I wrong?"

You nodded your head as if you were seven years old again. You knew you were going to rest as much as you could in your hotel room, but that didn't mean you weren't going to do anything. As you had already planned, you were obviously going to continue with your work. You couldn't disappoint Sebastian, not on such an important weekend like this.

[...]

Sebastian accompanied you to the door of your room, and despite having exchanged a couple of messages with you on Friday, having let you rest all afternoon and part of Saturday morning, and having agreed that you would come to a meeting room in the hotel at 12pm on Saturday to finalize the details of tomorrow's tribute, he didn't see you there.

"Have you seen Y/N?" he asked Britta directly, a little distressed. "She told me she would come with no doubt."

"And she did come," the ex-pilot's PR commented, "but I sent her back to her room as soon as I saw her shivering. Her forehead was burning, and she said she had a slight fever. It wasn’t just a slight fever, Seb," Britta assured him.

The man nodded but became even more worried. Quickly bidding farewell to Roeske, he headed towards your room. He saw the door slightly ajar, possibly your mistake. He knocked softly before entering, and the sight that greeted his eyes made him feel bad instantly.

You were curled up in bed, trembling uncontrollably. You had a small towel on your forehead with cold water to see if you could control your body temperature since you couldn't take your medicine again until the corresponding hours had passed, which was already the next day.

Your face was completely flushed, and your breathing was labored.

As soon as you realized Seb's presence, your eyes welled up with tears. You tried to force a smile, but all that came out were tears from how bad you felt not only for Seb to see you like this but also for ruining something so important.

"Seb... You didn't have to come," you stammered, your voice barely audible.

"Of course, I did! Don't be ridiculous!" he responded quickly, sitting beside you. He placed a hand on your forehead and realized Britta was right. "My God, Y/N, you're burning up. Why didn't you tell me you were feeling so bad?"

"I... didn't want to worry you," you admitted between tears of frustration and exhaustion. "Tomorrow is an important day. You need to be resting to give your best tomorrow. There are people who have come just for you, Seb, you can't let them down."

You noticed him tense a bit at the mention. His lips curved, and his jaw tightened. He took a deep breath and took your hand almost without thinking.

"This is my fault..." he whispered softly. He seemed overwhelmed with guilt, and much of it. You cursed yourself for making him think that when it was all really your fault. "Nothing is more important than your health, Y/N. I'm so sorry, really..."

"Seb, it's okay, really. These things happen; it's completely normal. There's probably someone else like me..."

His silence was the response you partly expected, but it didn't hurt until you saw him shake his head.

"I just wanted to give my best so that the photos would turn out perfect and you would have content worthy of all the work you've put into this..." was all you could say.

"You're already the best, Y/N," he said softly, tucking a strand of hair away from your face. "In fact, you're so perfect that you should stop being so perfect to start worrying more about yourself. And since you don't worry about yourself... let me do it for you, okay?"

Although you didn't agree with him and didn't believe you deserved his praise, you were too weak to argue.

Sebastian stayed with you all day, including the night. He made sure you were as comfortable as possible, brought you water, and soaked the cold cloth in water to lower your fever as soon as possible, miraculously something that worked. He didn't leave your side, not even when you had a coughing fit or sneezed without covering your mouth.

Your fever began to lower in the late hours of that day. Your breath calmed down, and the color seemed to return to your cheeks. Seb sighed with relief, quickly hugging you while continuously placing small kisses on your face and playing with your hair, making you laugh incessantly.

After ordering room service for dinner, since your appetite seemed to have returned, you fell asleep, at least apparently. To avoid disturbing you, Seb went from lying down next to you to reclining on a sofa next to the bed. His eyes were heavy with tiredness, but that didn't stop him from staying alert in case you needed his help.

"Rest, Y/N," he whispered, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead before caressing it. "I guess I'll have to take you out to dinner for the damages I caused."

You smiled at the last thing Seb had said, grateful that every time you got sick, you didn't fall into a deep sleep, and wishing that what Seb had said was true.

[zettaireido-emotion]

Camus character analysis: games VS anime

If you finished the Uta no Prince-sama anime and your opinion of this man is "wow, he's kinda terrible," I don't blame you. in fact I've seen a lot of people say this

In this post, I want to talk about his characterization in the games and give my two cents on what the anime was trying to do with him, especially in his single focus episode Saintly Territory (S3E6).

Disclaimer: I wrote this on a whim because I'm sick and stuck at home so if anyone reads this, sorry I might go all over the place

Spoilers for all of the games!

The "be my slave" thing

Starting with Anime Camus's most egregious crime: treating Haruka like a servant/slave (however you want to translate it)

Basically in his focus episode, Haruka is tasked with writing a song for Camus. She wants to learn more about him in order to write it, but Camus will only let her follow him if she acts as his servant. She accepts without complaining, Cecil is rightfully angry, Haruka continues anyway and the song gets completed.

Now, am I about to say that Game Camus would never do this? No because he literally does lmao.

The anime doesn't pull this "servant" plotline out of nowhere, here's the context in his route:

Haruka accidentally overhears Camus talking about a plot to assassinate Saotome on the phone. When he notices that she heard everything, he basically tells her that he has to kill her now. But if she served him, he'd be able to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't leak anything, so she could escape death.

Okay uh "work under me or DIE" isn't exactly better, nor is it a good start to a love story, but I'm not finished!!

(A side note: I have to add that the anime made him look like an even bigger asshole and borderline dumb when it came to the things he made her do. Like he expected her to know that snapping your fingers means you want coffee without prior explanation. bro

^This might have been for comedic effect but I promise he can be actually funny and endearing.)

What the anime couldn't cover

The Camus episode wraps up with Haruka pulling through and writing a song that makes Camus "sincere," he says it's cool at the very end and that's the episode. I think the problem is that we technically didn't see him being sincere or what that even means to him, besides when he was singing (banger song btw)

It's a shame because in a 20-minute episode you really can't show the game experience of slowly piecing together what this man's problem is.

First of all, in Debut and AS you'll be quick to notice that he always has homeland and duty on the mind, constantly reminding himself that he's in Shining Agency/Japan for a reason, and it's NOT to have fun or make friends

The truth is, he slowly starts to appreciate the banter with his colleagues, music, and working there in general.

But because of his initial mindset, he has to rationalize & justify every connection he forms, like "it's just for work" or worse: "actually it was ALL A LIE and I NEVER ENJOYED A SECOND OF THE TIME WE SPENT TOGETHER, I'm such a great actor haha"

He uses that to fool himself and to push the other person away so it doesn't happen again. This scene is probably the best example:

(I'll be using google lens because it's faster but I checked that the tls were okay)

He also does this in the Non-Fiction drama, which may or may not have actually happened, but I think it's still a pretty good reflection of what could happen in reality because he tells Ranmaru their bond was a lie, then mopes around in his guilt thinking about the good times and wondering why he's sad, and THEN later doubles down on the "it was a lie, I don't care about you" because he just can't let himself get attached to anything.

Basically, he's terrified at the thought of forming actual bonds because he genuinely thinks he's nothing if he stops being a cold weapon:

At one point he does admit he sucks (as a love interest)-

-which is pretty huge by utapri standards. I love these games, but the amount of times where a male lead does something icky, and everyone, including Haruka, acts like it's normal or like it's Haruka's fault is ehhh but I digress

Upbringing

Of course he's very proud of his homeland and status, but sometimes it's to the point of thinking he can't be anything other than his title. So why is he like this?

We got to hear about his childhood from Camus himself a few times, and it often ended with Haruka thinking "wait? that's kinda messed up?" and Camus insisting it's nothing/it's normal so yeah that's something...

His parents were in an unhappy arranged marriage, and his mother was forced to birth an heir which traumatized her so much that she can't see Camus without falling ill. Overall it's a pretty tragic situation since what happened to her was horrible, though not Camus's fault either. Even now she refuses to see him, and I wouldn't say that makes him sad because he never really met her, but simply knowing of her sacrifice probably adds a lot of pressure. As in, he only exists for this one purpose (inheriting his father's title and serving the country), so if he doesn't play his part correctly, it would have all been for nothing.

He was raised by his father not as a child or son but as the heir, always treated and judged as an adult (even during physical training apparently, make of that what you will)

When Haruka asks about childhood memories he has a very hard time finding something that doesn't have to do with his duties or the nation. And then admits he didn't truly have a "childhood" since he was never treated like a child

As for the queen, I think his love for her is sincere: she taught him a lot of things growing up, and according to him, she's also a victim trapped by her duties so he wants to ease the burden.

So hypothetically, if he found things or people that made him happy in Japan, he would feel obligated to lock them away because that happiness is incompatible with his life: he'll have to leave when his mission ends, he shouldn't be spending time on things that aren't "useful" as he doesn't have the free will to pursue them

In his mind he's completely tied down by the fact that he was born and raised for a single reason, and the fact that he does want to serve the queen.

(This is Saotome describing him btw)

Also it might sound ridiculous to bring his self-worth into question because of how pretentious he is, but I've counted a few situations where he seemed to have complete disregard for his own life, only worrying about Haruka and Cecil's safety in scenes when they were present. And he thinks wanting to be loved unconditionally is a childish thought he shouldn't have.

"Double Face" was a lie. There's like at least 10 layers

On the surface he does have two personas, his perfect polite butler act for the media, and his cold bitchy attitude off camera. But honestly, even when he's not acting as a butler, he's often putting up a front to hide any form of vulnerability (from himself as well)

His main struggle is finding who he is outside of what he's being told to do. Before, he never actually stopped to think about what he WANTS because it just never occurs to him, or if it does he ignores it.

That's why realizing that he has his own desires is essential to his character development, and him staying with Quartet Night (and Haruka in his routes) is so important. It's why Reiji feels the need to reach out and when he does, Camus either freezes up or tears up;

This all makes him the opposite of Ranmaru (being true to yourself and sincere), and similar to Ai (gradually learning to view the world in a less cold and logical way), but I kind of want to save that for another post lmao

He is especially hard on Cecil because Cecil says & does whatever he wants, and everything still works out for him, which is a way of life that Camus can't imagine for himself at all (despite maybe wanting it?)

That he can realize this and eventually admit out loud, despite all his pride, is also one of my favorite things about him

Season 2 does hint at something, so that's pretty cool!

Side note, I really love that his theme in the new Oracle series is "Change," the melting of ice.

So what was the anime supposed to do??

Of course there's no way to show all this in a single episode or even during the runtime of the anime, and I never expected them to because the story is very surface-level (that goes for all characters).

It's just unfortunate since the anime is the most accessible and well-known utapri media in the western fandom, and the character's main episode is bound to leave the biggest impression.

I understand the choice of being laser-focused on the servant plotline, it's supposed to be funny (?) and waters him down to a trope that's easy to understand at first glance (the step-on-me guy I guess)

Still, I can't help but compare it to Ranmaru's episode, who was also hard to work with in the games but was chill in S3E7 and got to pet cats. Anime onlys will never know how much Camus loves to dote on his dog smh.....

[xsolaresx]

daryl dixon.: love goes through the fire

pairings: daryl dixon x fem! reader wife!

summary: after being kidnapped and tortured by Negan, the reader does everything she can to make Daryl feel better.

warnings: angst! sad! graphic description of Glenn and Abraham's death! mention of torture! only depression from here on!

word count: 3,9k

Author @xsolaresx  

notes: English is not my first language, so there may be some grammatical errors.

ps.: if you want to translate any of my work, please send me a message and we'll talk about it.

The noise still bothered me every night. Whenever my eyes closed, even for just a second, the sound of the bat repeatedly hitting Abraham's skull and then Glenn's tormented me. 

One hit after another, and at the end Negan's diabolical laughter. 

I could still feel Glenn's blood dripping down to my knees, I was so close to him that after it was over I was covered in his blood and the scraps of skin that flew off. No matter how many baths I forced myself to take, that sticky feeling of fresh blood never left my skin. And sometimes I still found a patch of my skin with a crimson tinge impregnated in it. 

My dark circles told anyone who saw me that I hadn't slept for days. I kept reliving the moment like an endless loop in my head. I still remember how that day began, that week, that month, how the whole situation ended the way it did. 

Hilltop had enemies, and Alexandria needed food. One thing led to another. 

First the massacre at the outpost, then the kidnapping of Carol and Maggie. Everyone had questions about whether it was the right thing to do, whether killing so many people was worth it, whether it was worth seeing another sunrise under so much blood. 

But Carol felt more, the deaths she had caused were beyond counting on her hands. We all kill to survive, but she was molded in this world, she wasn't raised with Rick's hero instinct, or the strength that the trauma and torture that Daryl suffered at the hands of his father and brother did to him. It was too much for her, she couldn't look us in the eye anymore, so she ran away from everything and everyone. 

There was no concrete reason for so many deaths, they were evil, weren't they? They killed people, and they die at the hands of our people. We did what had to be done. We saved a community from the so-called Saviors, but it couldn't have been that easy, there were more of them, there always would be. 

Daryl had to see it first hand. Denise died in front of him by her crossbow. It made him furious, we saved Dwight in the burning bush, helped him and his wife only for him to do something terrible in the end. Daryl had shown them a way, but they couldn't believe that was salvation.

He had to go back there, he had to finish what he didn't finish. He thought it was his fault that Tara no longer had a girlfriend. If only I could have stopped him before...

Everything happened so fast, Maggie got sick, we had to get her to Hilltop. I thought I'd meet Daryl at night, in our room, I'd arrive and he'd be waiting for me, he'd apologize for leaving unannounced, we'd talk and make things right, and then we'd sleep together and have a new day. 

But that day never came. 

They surrounded us on the road, left us with no way out and took us exactly where they wanted us. The frightening whistles were the prelude to something much worse to come. After that I only remember seeing Daryl shot and bleeding being dragged to the wheel, Abraham offering himself up and dying by the bat. 

Little by little I saw the terror forming in Rick's eyes. In all the years I've been with him leading this group, this was the first time I'd seen the elder Grimes lost, with no way out and praying that this madman wouldn't take someone else from our family. 

But Dixon got angry, he tried to get to Negan. And the next thing I knew, the bat with the barbed wire was next to my face. Daryl screamed so much, screamed, cried. 

"It's all right, my love. I love you, it wasn't your fault” I could only look at him, knowing that he would be the last thing I saw before I left calmed me down. 

Negan started smiling and swinging his baseball bat between the two of us. "What the fuck! Let's see what we've got here, guys."  

“P-please... no-no” 

“You'd better shut the fuck up, Rick! Or your dear son's next.” Negan shouted when Grimes tried to intervene, he knew that if I died Daryl would never be the same. "So you're a couple? Dwight's best friend has a wife? hohoho this just gets more interesting!"

“If you lay a finger on her I'll kill you, you bastard!” Daryl wasn't the type to take a beating quietly, even though he was losing blood and had a gun to his head he was going to try and fight back.

“Ah, but I'll remember that very well, dear Daryl... You know what... I'm tired of all this, why don't we just get it over with, huh?” The next thing I saw was blood gushing everywhere. One second I had Glenn, my best friend, the person who had saved me in so many ways by my side, and the next I had a lifeless body. 

Daryl was taken away that night, as a guarantee that we would stay on the line. And only God knows what happened to him during those days.

I couldn't bear to see him so bruised and dirty the first time the Saviors came to Alexandria. That wasn't my Daryl anymore, he looked so fragile, wounded, defeated. He was no longer the survivor who could take it all.

“No! He's my servant now, you don't talk to him, you don't look at him, and I don't make you cut off any part of his body.” Negan shouted when Rick tried to talk to Dixon. “And that goes for everyone, even his wife, understand?” I couldn't walk away, I needed to hug Daryl, tell him that everything was going to be okay and that I was there, but I couldn't risk someone else in our family, so I just turned and walked to our house, mine and Daryl's, unable to hold back the tears any longer. The last thing I heard was Negan's shrill laughter. “That one knows how to take orders, Rick!”

A few days had passed since then, we hadn't heard from Daryl, Maggie was hiding in Hilltop, which was under threat from the Saviors. Rick went out every day in search of supplies for the Saviors, and I... couldn't leave the house. I couldn't leave the room, the bed where I could still smell Daryl.

Frantic knocks started at my door, and when I opened it, I saw Gabriel. "He's back, Y/N. He hasn't done anything yet, but he's back with Carl, they're at Rick's now and he's not back from his run with Aaron yet. I-I don't, we don't know what to do, Judith is there with them and..."

"Gabriel, breathe. It's okay.” I held the priest by the shoulders, trying to calm him down. Everyone was lost, scared. “Tell everyone to stay in their homes, they mustn't have come for anything else, so don't provoke them, okay?” 

“But Judith... I... I promised Rick I'd look after her...” 

“I'll go, okay?” I grabbed my sweater and left the house in the direction of Rick's. If Carl is back with Negan, it means that the boy went after him planning some revenge. He's so young, but he harbors so much anger, he's lost so much to this world. 

“Hold it right there, cutie,” one of Negan's henchmen stopped me on the front steps of the house. 

“I want to talk to him.”

“You can let her through, let's hear what the wife has to say” I stared at the man until he got out of my way. I was angry, the way he called me 'wife' only reminded me that every day Daryl was in prison, being tortured by him. “Hello, my dear, to what do I owe your presence in my humble abode?” Negan was sitting on the balcony with Judith on his lap asleep, Carl was next to him without the bandage on his eye with a sad and angry expression. I completely ignored the killer and turned to the boy.

“Are you all right, Carl?”

“Yeah. I'm fine, he didn't do anything,” he replied, lowering his head. I turned to Negan, who didn't look the least bit happy at being ignored. 

“I want to see him.”

“You're going to have to be more specific, sweetheart.”

"I want to see my husband, see if he's alive. You can search me, I don't have any weapons after you took them all. Take me with you to him." A devilish smile appeared on his face. 

“You know, I can see that you don't look so good after I took your man, but I don't know if I was very clear when I said that he's now my servant, maybe you won't like what you see, your husband isn't the most sociable.”

"I know he's not, but I've seen worse. I need to see him alive, it's okay if he's dirty." 

"Ah girl, you're a tough nut to crack. But I understand, I can't go too many days without seeing my wives, Carl here has met some of them and he can tell you how hot they are! Tell you what, I'll talk to Rick, we'll settle up and if I'm still in a good mood you can come with me." 

“Thanks”

“Oh how I like that word, thank you.” Then Spencer arrived, started his plan to take Rick out and ended up dying. Eugene was going to be taken away for making the bullet. 

“You're gonna take me, right?” I shouted as Negan neared the gate, about to leave. 

"Y/N... what? No." Rick tried to approach but I moved away, I needed to see Daryl.

“I almost forgot the wife, search her, you're coming with me in the truck”

I kept quiet the whole way, blindfolded, the truck had three seats, the driver was some kind of savior who kept quiet and Negan made me stay in the middle of them in case I decided to jump out during the journey. 

“I told them to give your husband a bath, you know, to make him look more presentable, but no intimate visits, I don't want him to get too comfortable with all this” Negan said when we stopped in front of a room. “I also took him out of his cell, that's no place for a lady like you, my love”. When the door opened I saw Daryl in the corner of the room, a little cleaner, but cowering in the dark with an angry look on his face, but when he saw me he turned away from the wall in anguish. Dwight was in the other corner, standing guard. “I thought you guys would be more comfortable with an acquaintance on guard.”

“Not the best, but thanks,” I said between my teeth, looking at Dwight, who couldn't take his eyes off Daryl.

"What the fuck, baby! If you thank me one more time I won't be able to let you go, you've become my favorite." Then he left, closing the door. I ran over to Dixon, throwing myself into his arms, but he didn't return the hug, still focused on the other man in the room. 

"No, no, please, look at me, darling. Don't focus on him, focus on me, please.” I ran my hands over his face and turned him towards me, tears starting to well up in my eyes when I saw the bandage on his shoulder where he had been shot. “I missed you so much, are you okay?”

“I don't think he's going to say much, he probably doesn't even remember how he does it, does he Daryl?” 

"Shut the fuck up Dwight! If you don't I'll come over there and smash your face in” I turned to him who just laughed weakly and left the room. 

“You have to get out of here, you can't stay, I can't protect you... them... them” his voice was broken, as if he hadn't spoken for days. 

“Shiii, it's okay, I just came to see you, he's taking me back, we made a deal... What did they do to you, darling?”

“It was my fault”

"What? No, it wasn't, everything's fine at home, everyone's fine” He pulled my hand away from his face, moving away from me. 

“It was my fault, Glenn, then Maggie, she died because of me” 

“My goodness, no” I moved closer to him so that no one would hear. "Maggie's fine, the baby's fine, we did it so he wouldn't get suspicious. Everyone's fine” Daryl pulled me into a long-suffering kiss and began to cry, grabbing me in a hug, I sat on the floor with him still clinging to me. Dixon looked so broken, he wasn't the same strong guy who did everything for Rick. We stayed like that for a few hours, I ran my fingers through his hair to calm him down, he didn't sleep, he was on the lookout for any threat, but he closed his eyes, enjoying the affection. Until our bubble burst when someone opened the door. Daryl got up at a speed I didn't think he could manage, weakened like that, and promptly stood in front of me, protecting me from whoever came in. 

"Visiting hours are over, honey. I hope you didn't take your clothes off after Dwight left." Negan entered the room with a smug smile, covering his eyes with his bat. 

“I'm very well dressed, much to your displeasure,” I said, getting up and standing next to Daryl, who promptly grabbed my hand. "I have to get back, but nobody's forgotten you here, okay? We'll get you out of this, sweetheart."

“I wouldn't be so sure, but now Laura will take you back, and I hope your puppy behaves better after the visit.” Negan left and a blonde woman came in, waving us out.

I hugged Daryl one last time, kissing his forehead and left the room. 

The days passed more melancholy and with preparations for the war against the Saviors approaching. Rick got help from the people at the Dump. We were on our way to Hilltop to talk to Maggie and get her support. 

But when the gates opened, my vision blurred with tears... Daryl was there, a little shy, but waiting for us halfway. 

I threw my backpack on the floor and ran as fast as I could to him, his arms already open waiting for me, and he kissed me with such urgency that I lost my breath. We stayed like that for a few minutes, crying and hugging, until Rick approached us in silence, his smile unmistakable. 

I broke away from Dixon, making room for Rick and the others to hug him. Joyful laughter with tears coming out of me. 

_______________________________

“We can't try anything without Hilltop's weapons, we have a lot of personnel, but it's still too little, and we're vulnerable that way.” Maggie said after we left Gregory's room, the asshole would rather spend his whole life under threat than fight back. 

“She's right, but maybe I know someone who'd be interested in helping... they call themselves The Kingdom.” Jesus intervenes, from the corner of the room, where we're hugging, Daryl squeezes my hand with an air of hope and I can't help but smile at him with confidence too.

“Do you think they'd be allies in the war?” Rick asks, shifting in his seat. The situation isn't the best, I realize that now. I was so numb from missing Daryl that I didn't focus on protecting the community, and Rick had to handle it alone. 

“They also suffer threats from the Saviors, but the community doesn't know about it, only the leader and people they trust.” 

“He doesn't want to create panic or riots for no reason,” I say and everyone agrees. “So, what are we waiting for?” With a nod from Rick, everyone leaves the mansion and heads for their cars. The whole time Daryl didn't let go of my hand and I didn't make a point of complaining, he wasn't one to show much affection in the midst of so many people, but after everything that happened to him, I understand. 

The Kingdom was very large, with many warriors training and many families, protected and happy. I squeeze Dixon's hand tighter when I see a couple with a newborn baby surrounded by elderly women. He stares at the couple and lowers his head.

When we enter the auditorium, the first thing that catches our eye is the huge tigress sitting next to a guy on a kind of throne. Rick shies away from approaching her, but they talk normally. Until Morgan appears, and Daryl asks me quietly where Carol is. “It's a delicate subject, but if Morgan's here she must be all right, you know she's tough.” He nods, even though his curiosity isn't quenched, he knows it's not time.

The King didn't accept our proposal, but gave Daryl the freedom to take refuge in the Kingdom for as long as he needed. 

“We need to go Y/N, they can go into Alexandria after Daryl.” Rick appeared next to us as I was saying goodbye to Dixon, I nodded and he walked away. 

“It's temporary, when this is over you're not leaving my side anymore, okay?” I held Daryl's cheeks and he bowed his head sadly. 

“I want to go with you, I want to help put an end to this”

"You'll help, my love. Staying here, safe. Maybe you can convince the King, we need him."

“You know I'm not that diplomatic”

“Let's look at this situation as an opportunity, what do you think?” I smile to break the mood, Daryl gives a sad smile. “I'll never leave you, my love” I say more seriously so that he feels the truth, these days away from him were the worst and I don't want it to happen again.

_______________________________

“Look, look, look, Rick Grimes has come to greet me on my doorstep!” Negan and his henchmen arrived shortly after we got back from the Kingdom, someone up there is surely on our side. "I love seeing your abandoned dog face, Rick, but today my business is with your little friend's wife. Why don't you bring her to me?" 

Rick nods begrudgingly, turns and starts walking towards the main house where we were all gathered, waiting for some sign of Grimes. 

“He wants to talk to you.” Rick approaches and says quietly. “Be careful, he's unpredictable.” 

"That's all right, Rick. I'll put him in his place, I've had enough of this.” I walk away quickly, anger overflowing just knowing that because of him my Daryl is shaken. 

“Y/N, no, wait.” Rick tries to stop me, but it's too late, I'm striding hard towards Negan. 

“I hear you want to talk to me.” That maniac's smile only gets wider when he sees me.   

"Oh, hello, darling. How are you? Miss your husband?" 

“You've got to be kidding... of course I miss him, if you don't remember you took him away from me and I'm very possessive of what's mine,” I say through my teeth. If he thinks I'm going to be compassionate and keep my mouth shut, he's mistaken.

"Wow, that's what I like about you, darling. You're tough as nails,” he says with a mischievous laugh. "The problem is that your husband was very moved by your visit, you know? And he must have thought it was a loophole for an escape." 

“Wait, what?” I say exasperated, I've always loved acting. “You mean you've lost my husband?” 

“I thought you could help me find him.” 

“You're unbelievable...” I whisper indignantly. “If you think he's here you can look, have your goons search every house, every manhole or cupboard in this place.”

“You're always a refreshment to me, darling, you always know what I want.” I roll my eyes as he sends his men to search Alexandria. 

As expected, they find nothing and leave, promising to return next week to collect supplies. 

“I have to go, Rick,” I warn Grimes. To avoid the risk of them following me, I waited a few hours after they left, and night came. I need to see Daryl, he won't stay another night thinking we've abandoned him. He gets up from the rocking chair on the porch of his house with Judith on his lap and approaches.

“Okay, but be careful, make sure no one's following you.” Rick hugs me in his fatherly way. We were always close like brothers, after I lost everything Rick was there as a leader for everyone. “And send him a hug, tell him we miss him.” 

“I will.” I say goodbye to him and kiss the head of a sleepy Judith, who gives me a smile. I grab a car and head out through the cellars of Alexandria, towards the Kingdom, towards Daryl.

_______________________________

“She's magnificent” Daryl was standing next to Shiva's cage when I arrived at the Kingdom. Quiet and shrunken, just stroking the snout of the tigress who melted at his touch.

“She is.” he confirms with a frown. I moved closer until I could see tears forming in his eyes. I quickly bent down, sat next to him and hugged him tightly, which he reciprocated. 

"It's all right now, my love. I'm here, you're not going to stay away from me any longer.” I tried to calm his crying, which was only getting more intense. I've never seen Daryl so broken, he seemed to be accumulating all the suffering, the pain, waiting to fall apart on me. He would never do that to anyone else. 

“I got scared.” Daryl says after he calms down. “I was afraid of losing you too, losing our family.” 

“You're not going to lose me, ever.” 

“But what if it does?” Daryl lifts his head with a more serious look. "When they tortured me, all I could think about was you, that you'd be alone out here, unprotected. They could do anything to you to make me accept the fact that I was nothing in that place. And I felt like nothing."

“No, no, no.” I pull Daryl's face so that he pays close attention to me. “You're not going to lose me, you know why? Because your wife is strong, she'll go through hell to pull you out of the fire and when I can't do it anymore I'll have our whole family helping me, because I love you, Daryl, we love you. That's what love does, it turns us into fighters, people who would do anything for the one they love. I love you, Daryl.” Tears flowed non-stop from my eyes and Daryl's.

“I love you, Y/N” His lips met mine fervently, it was a needy kiss, as if he had been thirsty for days and I was his oasis in the desert. I gave myself completely to him, wanting more and more all the time. 

We were too wrapped up in our bubble, completely forgetting that Shiva was still in the cage next door, and an imposing roar from her broke us out of this bubble of lust. 

“I don't think she likes not being the center of attention,” we laughed when we noticed the tigress's angry face at being left out. 

“She'll have to accept it, because now my only attention is on my wife.”