#but i want to hear it when he starts writing songs that feel at peace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tomriddleslove · 4 months ago

Text

61 letters.

✩ Mattheo x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hopefully this says i'm back with a bang? There are some TW but I don't want to spoil anything, so please scroll down to the bottom if you want to see those first.

Songs: Strangers - Ethel Cain

inspiration came to me from reading @dylsluvrs so please go read!!

The warmth from the fireplace crackled soothingly; a barely noticeable rhythm that lulled you to sleep as you leisurely turned the pages of your book, your free hand carding through Mattheo’s hair.

The distinctive smell of sandalwood and cigarettes came second to the scent of burning wood and old books - so hauntingly comfortable.

“Are you going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” He rasps, eyes also shut. It seemed he too was seconds away from falling asleep, his head resting in your lap.

It was perhaps the only time he could properly fall asleep. With you, that is. Sure, the fireplace was cosy, and the sofa was nice and comfortable, but even the finest of beds and the warmest of rooms could not send Mattheo into a peaceful slumber. It was who he was with that mattered, and to him that was you.

Why? Because you were his everything - it was as simple as that. He didn’t have to think twice to know that you were the breath that sustained him, the blood that coursed through his veins and the light that shone into his eyes.

You were the sun and he was merely your shadow, drawn to your light and lost in your absence.

So yes - you were his everything. But he was just your friend. Mattheo didn't know what would hurt more, being a stranger to you or knowing he was close enough to know you but too far to have you. He was accustomed to the latter, and he could only pray he’d never have to experience the former.

No, he couldn’t experience the former, because life was no longer his life without you in it.

“Probably not. I’ve got to turn in that astronomy report.” You hum back, peering down at Mattheo, his eyes still shut.

You admire the delicate curve of his long lashes, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

You watch him with a soft smile, feeling the familiar pang in your chest that always comes when you're with him. He looks so peaceful, so at ease in your lap, as if this is where he truly belongs. A sigh escapes your lips, and you want nothing more than to gently trace a finger along the line of his jaw, committing every detail of his face to memory. You want to hold onto these moments forever, to keep them safe in the corners of your heart where no one else can touch them.

It's funny, you think, how life has a way of sneaking up on you. How someone like Mattheo, with his rough edges and restless spirit, could become such a constant in your life. He’s unpredictable and chaotic, a storm that never quite settles, yet with him, you feel a sense of belonging you’ve never found anywhere else.

He stirs, turning onto his side as a small sigh escapes his lips. His voice is more of a murmur than anything, a quiet “please?” whispered.

“We’re off for summer tomorrow, it's probably the last time I’ll-” He starts, a lump forming in his throat as he falls silent. He won't see you during the summer, because he’s back at the Riddle manor. A thought he's tried to avoid greatly till now.

“I know Mattheo, but it’s not as though you'll go completely cold. You’ll still write to me, won't you?” You say, shutting your book completely.

He opens his eyes, looking up at you, and there’s a flicker of something vulnerable, something raw. “Of course, I will,” he replies, his voice firmer now. “I don’t think I could go that long without hearing from you.”

You nod, a warmth spreading through you. “Then it’s settled. We’ll write, and it won’t be so bad.”

You know it’s not the same, that letters are a poor substitute for being here, together, but it’s something. It’s a promise, a thread that will keep you connected even when you’re apart.

Mattheo couldn't possibly not write to you - you grew up in silence, being neglected and ignored. Silence was everything to you, and in the worst way possible. It was part of the reason Mattheo was so dear to you - he was everything the people in your life couldn't be. He was always there for you, he’d never once dismiss or abandon you. It was unnerving at first, having someone's full undivided attention, but Mattheo taught you that it was something you were owed, something you'd deserved because nobody should ever be ignored. And god be damned if Mattheo ever did anything similar to that, no.

Hell would have to freeze over before Mattheo could ever hurt you like that.

Summer arrived with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft hum of distant laughter, leaving memories of Hogwarts feeling like a distant past. From the day that you bid farewell to Mattheo on the express, the gnawing sensation of grief ate away at your insides till you were reduced to an anxious wreck.

It felt oddly empty. You found yourself listening for the sound of Mattheo’s voice in every breeze, waiting for the familiar swoop of an owl delivering his letters. Each morning, you’d check the window, hoping to see a note from him, a line of messy handwriting that would make you smile.

His murmured promises echoed in your ears tauntingly - like an alarm that pierced through the devastating silence, each as worse as the other.

You told yourself he was busy - You knew what it was like at the Riddle manor. Amongst a murderous psychopath as a father and an equally (if not crazier) and crueller mother, Mattheo would not be granted a single moment of respite. Yet somehow, even if it felt selfish, you still felt angry. You knew Mattheo. He had promised he’d write, knowing how much it meant to you. He knew how important communication was to you, how being left in the dark made you feel. How every moment of silence cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

Mattheo knew about your childhood, how you were left alone in that big, empty house while your parents lived their lives. He knew about the cold dinners, the quiet nights, the way you had to fend for yourself because no one else would. How you craved connection, the reassurance that you weren’t alone. It was why he promised to write, why he promised to always be there. But now, with each day that passed without a letter, it felt like those promises were empty.

The silence was more than just an absence. It was a reminder of every time you had been forgotten, every time you had been left behind. It was the echo of your parents' indifference, now mirrored by the one person you thought would never do that to you.

The days blurred into one another, each one a monotonous stretch of time that seemed to go on forever. You wandered through the house aimlessly, your mind numb with boredom. Books that once brought you joy now lay forgotten, and even the sunny garden outside held no appeal. The silence was all-consuming, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket, smothering every spark of energy or hope.

Just before you were ready to do something—anything—to break free from the oppressive quiet, the sound of scratching broke through your thoughts. An owl, clawing at the window. The sound startled you, and for a moment, you stood frozen, heart pounding. Then, you all but scrambled out of the bed to unlock the window, nearly knocking the owl off its perch as you did so. It hooted in annoyance, ruffling its feathers, its eyes glaring at you as if to say, "Be careful!"

"Sorry," you muttered, but your hands were already reaching for the letter tied to its leg, a sense of urgency driving you. You snatched the letter from its claws, your fingers trembling as you tore it open. The seal wasn't Mattheo's, but at this point, you didn't care. It was a letter. It was something. You unfolded the parchment, your eyes quickly scanning the familiar handwriting.

Hey [name],

Hope you’re doing well. Summer can be kind of a drag, right? All this quiet after the chaos of school—it gets old fast. Anyway, I’ve been keeping in touch with Mattheo. He’s been writing a lot, actually. Seems like he’s pretty caught up in things over at the manor. Typical Mattheo, you know? Always juggling a hundred things at once. I guess you’ve been hearing from him too?

I’ve been wondering what you’ve been up to. We didn’t get much of a chance to hang out at the end of term, and I thought it might be fun to catch up. Maybe we could meet up sometime, get out of the house for a bit. I know a few good spots—quiet, away from everything. We could just hang out, talk, or not talk. Whatever you feel like. No pressure. Just thought it’d be nice to see you.

Let me know if you’re up for it. Would be great to catch up.

Take care,

Theo

You read the letter once, then twice, then once more, to make sure you were reading it correctly. Mattheo had been writing, but not to you.

He was ignoring you.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, the ache in your chest growing sharper, more painful.

Why hadn’t Mattheo written? Had you done something wrong?

The pit in your stomach could only feel deeper as your mind mulls over every possible thing you could have done to get Mattheo mad at you. Nothing came to mind. He had been the same Mattheo, resting his head in your lap, his voice soft and sleepy as he asked if you were going to Hogsmeade. There had been no tension, no argument. Just the usual comfort and ease that came with being around each other.

What was it about you that made people leave? Your parents, distant and cold, always too busy for you. And now Mattheo, the one person who made you feel like you mattered, was doing the same. The familiar sting of rejection clawed at your heart, a wound that never seemed to heal.

You reach for a piece of parchment, blinking back the tears that cloud your eyes as you begin to write back.

Hi Theo,

Summers been…. Alright, i guess. I hope you've been keeping well, though knowing you i'm sure you've been up to something interesting. I haven't actually-

He hasn’t-

Is Mattheo-

I’d love to see you some time. We really don't see each other that often. Would this Thursday work? I'll bring some pastries with me :)

-[Name.]

Your fingers tremble as you attach the letter to the (rather agitated) owl. He pecks at your finger in rebuttal, but you pay it no mind as you watch him soar off. It was something - having someone to speak to you, even if it wasn't Mattheo. You couldn't bear to confront the idea that Mattheo was purposefully not writing to you, that he was ignoring you. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you try to look forward to the prospect of seeing Theo on Thursday.

But every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was Mattheo.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced through the leaves of the old oak trees. The park was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant laughter of children playing. You walked beside Theo, your footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath. The warmth of the late afternoon sun kissed your skin, but it did little to thaw the cold ache that had settled in your chest.

“.... and that's why I told her to piss off, I couldn’t stand the old sod nagging at me about the history of ancient faeries any longer.” He mutters, a small huff of amusement escaping his lips.

A small smile tugs at your lips, barely there. You wanted to enjoy yourself, you really did - but you wore your heart on your sleeve, and every second that you felt like you could finally breathe again, the image of Mattheo flashes back into your mind and you're back drowning in your sorrows once more.

Theo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, gentle but probing. “You’ve been really quiet lately, [name]. Are you alright?”

You glanced at him, his concerned expression making your chest tighten. You shrugged, trying to mask the hurt that you felt. “I’m fine, just... thinking, I guess.”

Theo stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His eyes were soft, searching your face as if trying to read the thoughts you kept hidden. “Is it about Mattheo?” he asked softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Mattheo’s name. You had been trying so hard to avoid thinking about him, to not let the silence drive you mad. “I... yeah, I guess so. I haven’t heard from him all summer. It’s not like him to just disappear like that. Do you think he’s... okay?”

Theo’s expression flickered, just for a moment, before he forced a smile. “He’s fine,” he said, too quickly. “I mean, I’ve been hearing from him. He’s been writing to me.”

A pang of something sharp and bitter shot through you. “Oh,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “What’s he been saying?”

Theo hesitated, as if he hadn’t expected you to ask. “Just... stuff. You know how he is. He’s been busy, I guess. Hanging out with new people. He mentioned some girl, but I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

Your heart sank at his words. Some girl. The phrase echoed in your mind, a painful reminder of every fear you’d tried to suppress. “Did he say why he hasn’t written to me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theo looked at you, his eyes filled with what seemed like genuine sympathy. “He didn’t mention it, no,” he said quietly. “But I’m sure he’s just been distracted. You know how Mattheo is. He doesn’t always think about how his actions affect others.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they only deepened the ache in your chest. You had always known Mattheo was reckless, impulsive, but not to you - never to you. But that’s how it always was, wasn’t it. Everyone thinks they’re the exception.

Were you really that foolish?

“Maybe you should write to him,” Theo suggested, his tone light, almost casual. “I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, maybe I will.” But even as you said the words, you knew you wouldn’t. The thought of reaching out, of writing a letter that might go unanswered, was too painful to bear.

As you walked with Theo, his presence a comfort, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The park around you was filled with the sounds of summer, the laughter of children, the chirping of birds and yet, with all that -

all you could hear was the silence from Mattheo.

The Hogwarts Express puffed out clouds of white steam as it pulled into Hogsmeade station, the sound of the whistle cutting through the cool autumn air. Students poured out of the train, chattering excitedly, their voices blending into an unintelligible yet comforting background noise. You stepped off the train with Theo by your side, the familiarity of the scene bringing a small smile to your face. Despite everything, Hogwarts was a home to you, and it was nice to finally be back.

Theo’s arm brushed against yours as you walked, his presence a now familiar and comforting thing. Summer had been unexpectedly pleasant with him, his letters and company filling the void that Mattheo’s silence had left. He had taken you to the local fair, where you’d ridden the Ferris wheel and eaten too much cotton candy - holding onto his hand as you stumbled back home having indulged in one too many treats. For a while, you’d almost forgotten the ache in your heart, but it never truly went away - rather it mellowed down into a gentle throb, just about there. But when the sun was shining, and you could hear Theodore's laughter in the background as the evening’s breeze began to settle, it disappeared.

Even if only for a moment, it disappears.

“Excited to be back?” Theo asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, it’s good to be back. I missed this place.”

“You mean you missed me, right?” He grinned, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You laughed, the sound a little forced. “Of course, Theo. Who else would I have missed?”

You settle into a light conversation with him, answering without your mind even registering what you were responding. The towering silhouette of Hogwarts castle came into view as you rounded the final corner of the path. The sight of the familiar stone walls sent a wave of mixed emotions crashing over you—nostalgia, warmth, and a painful reminder of who you hadn’t seen yet.

Friends gather in the great hall, conversations of far gone reunions and sordid summer holidays drowning everything out. It was alot - almost too much. Theodore had just gone to greet his friends, promising to meet you in your room after.

You nodded, giving him a half-hearted wave, but as soon as he disappeared into the crowd, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washed over you. It wasn’t just physical, though your body certainly felt the weight of the long journey back to Hogwarts. No, it was deeper than that—a bone-deep weariness, a numbness that had taken root over the summer and never quite left.

You just wanted to be alone. Away from the noise, away from the chaos, away from the confusing mess of emotions that had plagued you all summer long.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped out of the Great Hall. Your feet carried you automatically toward the Ravenclaw Tower, the promise of peace and -most importantly- silence pulling you forward. You could practically feel the soft duvet of your bed calling you, a safe place to curl up and shut out the world.

But just as you turned the corner, your entire world came crashing to a halt.

Mattheo was there, standing at the bottom of the staircase. He wasn’t just waiting—he was pacing, his expression frantic, as though he had been searching for you for hours. His dishevelled appearance and the wild look in his eyes took you by surprise, and before you could even react, he rushed toward you, almost slamming into you as his hands grabbed your arms.

“[name]” he breathed, his voice raw, like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Thank Merlin. Are you okay? I’ve been going mad, I—why didn’t you answer? What happened?”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. The sight of him, so frantic, so genuine, only made your heart twist painfully inside your chest. For a second—just a second—you wanted to melt into his arms, to let the relief wash over you because finally, here he was, the Mattheo you had been waiting for. But then the summer flashed through your mind, the days of silence, waiting by the window for letters that never came.

Theo’s voice echoed in your head, reminding you of the late nights spent wondering if you ever truly mattered to Mattheo at all. He’d mentioned Mattheo being distracted, writing to someone else. It had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You wrenched yourself free from his grasp, your voice colder than you’d ever intended. “What do you mean, what happened? I’ve been waiting for you, Mattheo! You’re the one who disappeared!”

His face fell, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What? No—I’ve been writing to you. Every week! I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Don’t lie to me, Mattheo.” You stepped back, putting distance between you as anger bubbled up inside. “I didn’t get a single letter from you all summer. Not one. And you expect me to believe you’ve been writing?”

For a moment, he looked completely lost, his face contorting into an expression of confusion. “[name], I swear. I’ve sent you letters, I’ve been trying to—” He ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling to make sense of it all. “I’ve been so worried. When I didn’t hear back, I thought... I thought something happened to you.”

You could see the panic in his eyes, the way his hands shook slightly as he reached out for you again, but the doubts were already there. How could he be telling the truth? Theo hadn’t mentioned Mattheo writing to you at all—just someone else. And now Mattheo stood before you, claiming he had? Why wouldn’t Theo have told you?

“You’re lying,” you whispered, and the words tasted like poison. “You’ve always been so good at making me believe you cared.”

“Lying?” His voice cracked as he took a step forward, but you recoiled, the hurt too deep, too fresh.

“Don’t.” Your voice broke, your throat tightening as the tears threatened to spill. “You left me, Mattheo. You didn’t write. You didn’t care.”

“I do care!” He was desperate now, his eyes pleading as if he could pull you back with his words alone. “I’ve always cared. I’ve been going insane not hearing from you, thinking something was wrong—”

“Then why did Theo get letters from you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them. “Why did he know what was going on while I didn’t hear a thing? You’re telling me you wrote to me, but Theo told me you’ve been busy all summer—writing to someone else.”

“I don’t know why you didn’t get my letters. I don’t—Theo told you what?” Mattheo’s face went pale, his jaw clenching as he tried to find the words

You shook your head, the ache in your chest becoming unbearable. “I waited for you, Mattheo. Every single day. I waited for you to care, but you didn’t. You weren’t there for me.”

His hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of your words had physically struck him. He looked at you like you’d just shattered something inside him, but no words came. For a moment, you thought he was going to say something, but his mouth remained open, silent, as if he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

The silence was deafening, and it felt like your heart was being crushed in your chest. You couldn’t bear to stand there any longer, not with him looking at you like that, not with your emotions tearing you apart. It would be better if you had just hit him - perhaps then the look of hurt on his face wouldn’t have killed you.

“I thought you were different, Mattheo,” you whispered, barely able to hold yourself together as you took a step back. “But I was wrong. You’re just like them - you’re everything they said you were.”

Your words break him, crushing his heart till he can’t speak - all he can do is stare. If he calls for you, you don’t hear it. Your ears are ringing, tears blurring your vision as you stumble away from him, running up the stairs to your dorm.

The ache in your chest felt unbearable, an emptiness that consumed every part of you. You had wanted to believe Mattheo cared, that you meant something to him. But now - now it felt like all of that was a lie.

The door to your dorm creaked open, and Theo stepped inside, his face softening as soon as he saw you. He knelt besides you, pulling you into his chest without second thought. The smell of sandalwood and cigarettes consumed your senses - so similar to Mattheo yet indescribably different.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

But you couldn’t answer. You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt as the sobs wracked your body. You didn’t even have the energy to question why Mattheo hadn’t fought harder, why he hadn’t explained. All you knew was that he hadn’t been there when you needed him most, and now… now it was too late.

Theo’s arms tightened around you, his hand stroking your hair. “You don’t need him,” he murmured. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

And for the first time all summer, you didn’t pull away from the comfort he offered.

As the weeks passed, Hogwarts seemed to return to its usual rhythm—students bustled between classes, the crisp autumn air rolled in, and laughter echoed in the common rooms. But for you, things were far from normal.

Mattheo had all but disappeared. He no longer showed up at meals. When you did catch a glimpse of him, it was fleeting—just the ghost of the boy you once knew. His skin looked pale, as if he hadn't slept in days, and his eyes were hollow, dark shadows etched beneath them like bruises.

Every time you saw him, your heart clenched painfully. There was a gnawing ache in your chest, an almost instinctual pull that made you want to go to him, to ask what was wrong, to demand why he had let everything fall apart between you. You thought of all the times he'd been there for you, all the whispered promises that felt so real - so fucking real.

But just as you would muster the courage to go to him, to ask what was happening, Theodore would appear.

It was always so sudden. As if he could sense your hesitation, your uncertainty. He would sidle up to you in the corridors, flash you that easy, comforting smile, and all the questions you wanted to ask Mattheo would slip away. Theo felt like a warm, familiar blanket, pulling you away from the confusion and the hurt. His arm would wrap around your shoulder casually, steering you in the opposite direction, and somehow you would find yourself walking away—again.

"Come on, " Theo would say softly, his voice gentle and soothing. "Let's grab something to eat. I could use the company."

And you'd follow him. Without protest, without a second thought. Every time.

Each time it happened, it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Guilt, confusion, frustration—they tangled up inside you, twisting like a knot that was getting harder and harder to untangle. You knew you were avoiding Mattheo, and deep down, you hated yourself for it. But the hurt was still raw, and every time Theo was there to distract you, it felt easier to run away from it. You’d rather live in your ignorance, than face the closure of knowing Mattheo truly didn’t care.

And so, when you saw Mattheo the next day, looking sicker, more broken than ever, you swallowed the urge to reach out to him. You turned your head and pretended not to notice.

Theo would be there soon, anyway.

If you had told your 1st year self that you'd be here, moving in to your first apartment mere years after graduating from Hogwarts, you wouldn't have believed it. Having graduated top of the class you scored yourself an apprenticeship with one of the finest potion masters in all of the wizarding world, working tirelessly under their watch. It was strenuous - yes- but coming back home, your home, made it all worth it.

The apartment was beautiful. It felt like a perfect blend of you—bookish Ravenclaw touches scattered throughout, with shelves brimming with weathered novels, delicate blue curtains draping from the windows, and the familiar scent of parchment and ink lingering in the air. And yet, there were still signs of him everywhere—Slytherin green woven into the decor, trophies, and accolades displayed with quiet pride. It was a home, not just a place to live, but a space you had both created together.

You smiled softly to yourself as you glanced around. It had been a long journey to get here— but now everything was in its place, as it should be.

As if on cue, you heard the door click open behind you, and a smile tugged at your lips before you even turned around. The sound of his footsteps was unmistakable, steady and familiar. It had become part of your routine—this quiet comfort, this gentle rhythm of life. You hadn’t expected it, not after everything that had happened, but it had worked out. You had worked it out.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into a warm embrace as a soft kiss pressed against the side of your neck. You closed your eyes, leaning back into the comfort of his hold, letting the world fall away for just a moment.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, sending a familiar warmth through your chest. His breath brushed against your skin.

The faint smell of cigarettes clings to him, and the routine is as comforting as it is repetitive.

A small exasperated sigh escaped your lips, though it was betrayed by the soft smile that followed. “What did I tell you about smoking? You’re going to ruin your lungs.”

"Old habits die hard," he chuckled lightly, his voice filled with that casual ease you had come to love.

You shook your head playfully, turning slightly in his arms to look up at him. “Oh, come on, Theo. I’ve been hearing that for ages.” You grinned, swatting at his chest lightly as you pulled away to busy yourself with tidying the room.

Everything was ok.

Life had settled into something comfortable, predictable even—like the rhythm of waves softly lapping against the shore.

One Sunday morning, the sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. You were curled up in bed with a book resting on your knees, enjoying the slow, peaceful quiet. Theo was still beside you, his arm draped lazily across your waist as he dozed off again, looking utterly relaxed.

You turned the page, the sound of the paper rustling softly, when the familiar tapping of an owl at the window caught your attention. Before you could even react, Theo was already stirring, groggily pushing himself up from the bed. "I’ll get it," he mumbled, stumbling toward the window.

The owl hooted impatiently as Theo untied the letter from its leg, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the unfamiliar seal. He tossed the envelope onto the bed beside you without much thought, his hand brushing through his dishevelled hair.

"Mail for you," he murmured, flopping back down onto the mattress.

You smiled absentmindedly, still engrossed in your book as you reached for the letter, but the moment your eyes landed on the seal, your heart sank.

It was a formal letter, the type you never want to see.

With a sense of dread curling in your chest, you tore it open, your fingers shaking slightly. The words on the parchment swam before your eyes, but as they slowly came into focus, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Mattheo Riddle….. Condolences….. Dead…… Ongoing investigation…… Suspected…..

Dead...

Dead..

Dead.

4 letters. One word, four letters. Did you know the English alphabet can produce endless combinations of words? But this—this was the only combination that mattered. Four letters that changed everything. Four letters that turned your world inside out.

Your mind went blank. The rest of the letter became a blur, the details escaping your grasp. Everything around you seemed to dissolve as if the air had been sucked out of the room.

Dead.

Your heart raced, pounding against your chest so violently it hurt. The word echoed inside your mind, repeating over and over like a broken record. You read it again, hoping—no, praying—that you had misunderstood.

But there it was, clear as day.

Mattheo Riddle was dead.

The room seemed to close in on you, the walls pressing down as your world collapsed in on itself. The edges of your vision blurred, and your breath came in shallow, jagged gasps.

"Hey... what is it?" Theo’s voice felt distant, like it was coming from another world. His arms wrapped around you, his warmth pressing against you, but you couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel anything but the gaping void that was swallowing you whole.

Dead.

The tears wouldn’t come. It was as if your body had shut down, refusing to process the enormity of what you’d just learned.

Theo’s hands were on your shoulders now, his voice full of concern as he pulled you into his arms. "What happened?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with urgency. "Talk to me."

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t breathe. The room spun, and the only word you could focus on was that single, damning word.

Dead.

You don't remember the next few weeks after that.

The numbness that plagued you back in your final year of Hogwarts - the one that settled and almost disappeared, hit with a force so strong you cannot remember a single thing since the day you found out.

You thought - you really thought you were over him. You thought that you were happy with Theodore now, so desperate to believe the delusion that you didn't realise you sought him out in every breath you took, every dream you followed.

It was for him - it was always him.

And now that you knew he was gone, really gone, there was no more pretending.

It was a quiet Sunday morning when you found yourself moving almost instinctively, your body on autopilot. Theodore was gone, at work as usual, and the emptiness of the apartment echoed around you, too loud in its silence. You wandered from room to room, searching, but for what? You didn’t know. Something—anything—that could pull you out of this suffocating fog, something that could make the world feel real again.

Your feet carried you to the attic. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. Maybe an old photograph, a piece of parchment with his handwriting on it—something that could remind you of what once was. Something that could bring you back to him, even for just a moment.

You started going through one of the boxes, its contents an odd collection of mementos from school—quills, ink bottles, a stack of old essays, and a few scattered photographs from your Hogwarts years. Your hands moved mechanically, sorting through the mess, but your heart wasn’t in it.

Then, something caught your eye—a wooden panel in the wall, slightly crooked. It didn’t fit with the rest of the smooth, untouched surface of the attic. Your curiosity piqued, and with a frown, you crawled over to it. You tugged on the panel gently at first, then harder, until it came loose with a soft creak.

Behind it was a box, hastily stashed away, hidden so well that you never would’ve found it if you hadn’t noticed the crooked panel. The box was small, nondescript, but as you pulled it out, you felt a strange sense of foreboding settle over you.

It was heavy, heavier than you expected.

Your heart raced as you carefully set it down in front of you, fingers trembling slightly as you pried it open. Inside, the contents were a chaotic mess—parchments, crumpled and folded haphazardly, stacked one on top of another.

You cursed yourself for knowing him. For knowing him so well - you didn’t need to see the inside. The handwriting alone was enough to tell you-

Mattheo.

The world around you seemed to stop.

Dear [name],

It’s so strange not being able to talk to you every day. I know it’s only been a week since the summer holidays started, but I can’t help missing you already. The manor feels empty, as always, but it’s worse this time. I keep thinking about you—about what you’re doing right now. Are you relaxing, reading? I bet you’re buried in some book I’ve never heard of. Probably something that would go completely over my head if I tried to read it.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in. I know you’re probably busy settling in, but if you get the chance, write me back. It doesn’t have to be long or anything, just a quick hello would be enough. I miss our talks. I miss you.

I’ve been practising the spell we were working on before break—you know, the one that had me nearly blowing my hand off every time? Yeah, that one. Still haven’t gotten it right, but I’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe you can show me what I’m doing wrong when we get back.

Take care of yourself, okay? Hope to hear from you soon.

Yours, Mattheo

Dear [name],

It’s been nearly two weeks, and I haven’t heard from you. I’m starting to get a little worried. Did something happen?

I keep telling myself you’re just caught up in everything, and that’s fine. I know how it gets with your parents. But... I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. You know how I can get sometimes—overthinking every little thing.

Still, if you get the chance, just drop me a quick note. Let me know you’re okay. I keep checking for owls like a madman every morning, and I’ve started to get weird looks from the house elves. It’s embarrassing.

I miss you. A lot more than I expected, if I’m honest. Write soon, alright?

Mattheo

[name],

It’s been almost a month now, and I’m starting to lose it. I don’t know what’s happening, and no one’s telling me anything. Are you okay? Did something happen? If you’re in trouble—if someone hurt you—tell me. I’ll come find you, wherever you are. You know I would. You know I’d drop everything if you just said the word.

But I don’t know if you even want that. I don’t know if you hate me, or if something worse is happening that I can’t see. It’s like I’m blind, walking through this fog, and I can’t find my way out. Not without you.

I keep telling myself you’ll write back tomorrow, that this is just some horrible mistake. But tomorrow comes, and it’s the same damn silence. It’s driving me mad. Please, for the love of Merlin, just write to me.

Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you don’t hate me. Tell me anything.

Please.

I love yo-

Yours, always, Mattheo.

Please.

I can’t. I'm going fucking crazy - I can't. I need to hear from you, something. Anything, Tell me to piss off, tell me you hate me, tell me I'm terrible. I just need to know you’re ok.

I don’t care if you never want to see me again, if you hate me—I just need to know you’re okay. I can’t sleep anymore. I can’t eat. Every time I close my eyes, I see you, and then I remember that I haven’t heard from you in over a month and it makes me sick. I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m losing my mind, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I don’t know if I can handle this anymore. Not without you.

You were always the one good thing in my life, the one thing that made sense in all this chaos. I need you to tell me you’re okay, [name]. Please.

I’m running out of ways to ask.

I’m running out of hope.

Grief - grief was a scary thing. Grief had no mercy, no, she was merciless. She lingered - she hid behind you and never really let go. Every time you though you were ok she'd re-emerge for a bit, just to remind you she was there.

Now? Now she was suffocating you, clawing at your throat. She was tearing you apart, her claws digging into your skin, ripping lawyer by layer till there was nothing left. She was consuming you - and The harder you fought, the deeper she sank her teeth in.

The apartments a mess. A nearby shelf—one that held neatly arranged books and trinkets from your shared life with Theodore—was what you first noticed. Shattered on the floor, like a beacon amongst shattered glass and wooden splinters.

Mattheo had died believing you hated him, that you had abandoned him, and all this time, Theo—

Theodore.

The realization hit you like a second wave, colder, sharper. Your heart lurched violently in your chest, and your rage found a new target. You grabbed a vase from the table and hurled it across the room, watching it smash against the wall as a fresh sob escaped from your lips.

You didn’t hear the front door open, or the sound of Theodore’s footsteps hurrying toward you. He was suddenly just there, eyes wide, filled with confusion and concern.

“[name]? What—what’s going on?!” he demanded, rushing forward to catch your arm, trying to stop you from doing more damage. “What are you doing? Calm down—”

But his words only fuelled your fury. You ripped your arm away from him, turning on him with sheer devastation. “You! You did this!” you screamed, your voice hoarse from crying. “You took them—you took everything from me!”

Theodore’s face paled, his mouth opening as if to argue, but no sound came out. His silence was an admission, and it broke something deep inside you. You launched yourself at him, fists pounding against his chest, though your strength wavered with each hit. “You lied! You ruined everything! Mattheo—he—”

You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you collapsed into sobs, your knees giving way beneath you. Theodore tried to catch you, but you shoved him back, crumbling onto the floor as your body heaved with uncontrollable sobs. You buried your face in your hands, pulling at your hair, wishing you could rip the pain from your very skin.

Theo crouched beside you, his hands hovering near your trembling form, unsure if he should touch you or keep his distance. “Please—” he started, his voice low, pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I thought—”

“Don’t you dare!” You looked up at him, tears streaming down your face

“Don’t you dare try to explain this away. You stole from me. You stole him from me!” Your voice cracked, and your chest tightened painfully as another sob wracked your body. “He’s dead, Theo. And I—I never got to—”

The rest of your words were swallowed by the weight of your grief. You clutched the letters, crumpling them in your fists as if they could somehow fix everything, as if holding them tighter would bring Mattheo back.

Theodore reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched, pulling away from him like his touch burned. “Don’t touch me,” you hissed, your voice broken and trembling. “You… you did this.”

For the first time, Theo didn’t argue. He didn’t try to defend himself.

“Please. Please - God please. Please bring him back. Please let me - Please,” You break down, clutching the letters to your chest as though you wanted to piece them together, to draw the essence of Mattheo that lingered in every word, in every drop of ink.

and maybe—just maybe—you could bring him back through the agony of your grief.

But no matter how tightly you held on, no matter how many times you begged-

he wasn’t coming back.

My Dearest [name],

I love you. I regret not saying it every second, of every day. I regret not saying it once in any one of my letters. 61 - one for each day of the summer. And I couldn’t say it.

Every heartbeat chants your name, every breath whispers your presence, for you are the pulse of my existence.

I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember - it would be impossible not to when I only really started living the second I met you.

God, you’re everything. You really are. I cant- I don’t know what I’d do without you. I haven't really done anything - not since the day you told me you hated me.

They wanted me to kill you. I’d have always known you'd do so well, securing a potionsmaster apprenticeship. It was everything we spoke about.

I couldnt be there too.

Leave it to you and your stubborn, infuriating little mind to show it to the whole world. You knew - you'd always known the risks of so openly opposing my side the wrong side. And you still did.

Giving everyone hope, as you always do. You’re truly an angel.

Trading my life for yours? It wasn't even a question.

I don’t know how to put this into words without breaking, but I need to. You’ve been the best part of me, the only part that ever felt real. I still remember the first time you looked at me—really looked at me, not the boy people whispered about, but me. The way your eyes found mine, and it was like you saw through every single layer I’d spent years building around myself. You made me feel like I was someone worth being seen. And for that, for everything you are, I’ll always be grateful.

You were the best thing that ever happened to me, [Name]. You let me have moments of you, of your warmth, and I think that’s what made me believe - just for a second- that I could be better. That I could be something with you.

If I could go back and change it, I would. I’d rewrite every moment, every mistake. I’d fight for us harder. I'd say it when you'd run your fingers through my hair, reading your books as you always do. I'd say it every morning; make it the mantra that I mutter before we'd I'd go to bed. I’d tell you I loved you every single day, so you never had to doubt it, never had to wonder if you meant the world to me.

Because you do. You always have.

Even now, when everything’s falling apart, you’re still the best part of me.

You always will be.

With all the love I never got to give you, Mattheo.

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Manipulative relationships, no HEA.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys fic #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle angst

589 notes · View notes

bisexualiteaa · 20 days ago

Text

I’d let the world burn for you

Silco x fem reader (ANGST!)

Synopsis: When Jinx undergoes shimmer surgery to save her life, but what if it was his lover instead of Jinx?

CW: season 1 spoilers, established relationship, reader sustains a near fatal injury, heavy talk of needles, shimmer and its effects, brief mentions of bl00d, brief mentions of a knïfe, talk of drügs, surgery, angst with good ending, possible grammar/spelling errors, proofread

A few great songs that I listened to while writing this incase yall are interested! I truly can’t recommend this soundtrack enough, it’s so perfect ♥️

AN: this idea came to me spontaneously and I kind of just wanted to see where my mind could take it! It is 1am however as I post this so please be kind. 😭 Also felt like changing it up a little bit with some angst thrown into the mix, I’m enjoying writing for Silco but of course, asks are open if yall want anything in particular! As always, I hope you all enjoy! ♥️

Where did it all go wrong? It was the question he’d been asking himself for far too long now, wondering what he could have possibly done, how this unspeakable act could have been avoided. Yet through all the possibilities there wasn’t an answer he’d come to that satisfied him enough. No answer that brought him enough peace.

One moment he was in his chair, leaned over his desk with a drink in hand as he looked over the papers that sat in front of him. The next, Sevika was carrying your limp body that sat unmoving in her arms. Now here you were, coldly strapped to a surgical table, making you look more like a test subject for something horrific rather than a patient seeking care, your breathing so faint that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, afraid that if he did you may stop breathing all together. “How did this happen?!” Silco asked, hands gripping the edge of the table so tight that his knuckles were turning white, anger heavily entwined in his tone as he looked to Sevika. He needed answers and hated that he didn’t have a single one. “I don’t know, I was inside when it happened. I’d heard what sounded like a scuffle from not too far but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Figured maybe a topsider had tread into the wrong territory, or was a deal gone bad. Then when I stepped outside I just saw her lying there” Sevika answered, looking to you as your body lay bound to the table uncaringly, a pang of sympathy in her gaze as she looked upon you in such a tragic state. As much as she didn’t understand your dynamic with Silco, she couldn’t deny the fact that she’d started to warm up to you a little over time. Seeing Silco happy because of you gave her a semblance of peace, and everyone took notice of the way that you seemed to brighten up the place a bit whenever you were around. She admired the way that he was willing to burn the world to cinders and ash for you, how you were the calm to his raging storm. You complimented one another perfectly. Despite her lack of understanding of your relationship, you didn’t deserve what had been done to you, and they both had a feeling it was likely a strategic hit. One meant to rattle Silco, throw him off his game and distract him, yet all it seemed to do was fuel his already raging fire. “And you didn’t even think to check?!” He asked, blind rage flowing through him like the very blood in his veins. “How was I supposed to know it was her? You can’t expect me to keep my ear out every time there’s a fight! For fucks sake, they happen too often here!” She defended, making him sigh heavily with agitation. She was right, it was rather unreasonable of him to expect such a thing but he felt so helpless in this moment, he couldn’t stop himself from lashing out. Seeing you hurt to such a point as this made him angry. Ultimately he was out of control in this situation, and it left him seeing red.

He smoothed his hands through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling to the bright lights, trying to collect himself the best he could for the time being. “Find who did this” he ordered, ready to give whoever did this to you as taste of his wrath. “Are you sure you want to stay here for this? I can watch over her if you’d rather. I can’t imagine this is going to be easy on either of you, especially her” she offered, knowing this would be hard for him to watch, and even harder on you to have to go through it. “No, I need to be here. I can handle it, I need to know she’s okay” he replied before looking to you, grabbing your hand gently in his, touching you so softly and carefully as if you were made of glass and could shatter at any moment. He wasn’t there to aid you when you’d gotten hurt, the guilt of it ate away at him, forcing him to stay here with you now, even if the sight of you in such pain tore him apart inside. “Who could do such a thing as awful as this to someone this kind?” He asked, his question rhetorical but gods how he wished he had an answer. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t, but it baffled him nonetheless. “When you find who did this, be sure to send them to me. An act this egregious will suffer a great consequence” he finished, watching her nod her head silently in acknowledgment before walking out to find who did this to you.

“This process will be…demanding. Sometimes death is a far greater mercy” Singe spoke as he walked over to his tools, ensuring everything was prepped for your procedure. “She can take it. I know she can” Silco replied, looking to the scarred man as he pulled out a syringe and a vial, filling it with a yellowish-green liquid. “Before I begin, I must know; are you prepared to lose her?” Singe asked, a question that made Silco furrow his brows in confusion as he looked to the doctor. What kind of question is that? It was a preposterous question, one he couldn’t possibly think of any other response to than the one he was about to give. As he was about to speak, he heard you sputter into a short coughing fit, blood splattering along your lower lip and chin as you winced and groaned in pain, writhing beneath the binds that held you to the table. Silco’s eyes widened with a gasp as you did, all but hurling himself toward you to check and see if you were okay. He leaned over you, hand cupping your cheek as a look of concern flashed across his face, trying to read your expression and watching your breathing as he called your name in the hopes it would get you to look at him. He wasn’t looking for a sign, anything to show him that you were okay. Yet your eyes were too heavy to open, body too weak to respond the way he wanted you to.

“She won’t die, doctor. She can’t” he finally responded, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek as his hand smoothed through your hair, sweeping it from your face in attempts to keep it out of your eyes should they open again before the process began. He hovered over you protectively, thumb caressing your skin in a soothing manner. It was a soft gesture you’d always done to him, a gesture he’d adopted from you after the countless times you’d done it to him. From wiping the tear from his eye after his injections, to simply doing so to grab his attention, it was something so soft, so gentle, so you. It only felt right to return the gesture. “I understand” the doctor replied, pulling out a chair, the hiss of the metal scratching against the floor a vile sound that filled the air for thankfully only a moment before he trailed over to the table and behind Silco. “But please understand, this is for your own sanity” Singe said as he injected half of the syringe of liquid into Silco’s neck, helping him fall to the chair he had pulled out. The dizziness and weakness had already begun to set in, the world moving around him slower and more blurry than normal. Everything was slightly muffled as if he were underwater, finally making it click what he had injected him with. It was a sedative.

You gasped for air as your eyes opened, coughs sputtering from your throat that felt dry as sandpaper. Your eyes scanned your surroundings, fear evident in your gaze as you looked to the bright lights then searched your surroundings, panic striking you as you fought against the straps holding you against the table. You yelped in pain as an injection was soon pushed into your veins, causing you to look down at what was happening. The bright purple liquid shining beneath your skin told you that it was Shimmer coursing through you now. It left trails up your arm from the injection site, purple and black trails that looked as if it were reviving your cells and killing them at the same time. It was terrifying, and the pain was insurmountable, leaving you to groan in pain and muscles tensed as you squirmed on the cold, metal table.

For a moment, the pain seemed to let up long enough for you to turn your head to the other side of the room to see Silco in a chair, slumped over. He looked tired, but something wasn’t quite right, he wouldn’t be so tired as to sleep while this was happening. Your breathing was harsh, ragged even as you tried to focus on his expression but the ebbing pain, mixed with the effects of the shimmer as it reached your blood stream and found its way through every vein and artery now made it nearly impossible. “Sil…” you called out for him weakly, attempting to reach out towards him but your hands were bound to the table, leaving you to lie there helplessly. You felt so cold, so sore, but above all else, you felt so alone. Was this death? Rebirth maybe? You weren’t sure, all you knew was that it was extremely unpleasant, your body and mind screaming for it to be over. Unfortunately your painless moment had quickly come to an end as more of the iridescent liquid seared through your veins once more, only serving to turn the veins within your arm more and more angry as you winced in pain. You gasped and sputtered as it climbed up your arm, past your shoulder into your neck before spilling from your tear ducts and mouth as you coughed, desperate for air to fill your lungs. You felt as if you were nearly drowning, as if you were being given far too much for your body to be able to withstand. A shrill, excruciating scream escaped you as you begged for it to stop, detesting cries leaving your lips as agony consumed you whole. It felt like torture and all you could do was endure it. “I understand this must be painful. I’m afraid it will only get worse” the doctor spoke, his apathetic words doing nothing to soothe your pain or calm you as he brought another needle to your cheek. “No! No, please no…stop!” You yelled, trying your hardest to jerk away from the needle but it was no use, like a caged animal, there was no escape from this. You closed your eyes as he pricked you again, making you cry out once more in pain as your body was shocked and overwhelmed from the sheer amount of trauma being done to it. He only seemed to smile as he did all this to you, watching you writhe in agony and cry out in pain only seemed to bring him joy in a way that you loathed. Everything around you was getting fuzzy at the edges, you couldn’t tell what was real and what was not. From there, it was all a blur. Your mind blacking out from the immense amount of pain in such a concentrated period of time. It had felt like an eternity before it all was finally over.

Silco opened his eye to see his hands resting against his thighs, the world spinning around him as he did his best to shake the effects of the drug he was injected with, trying to ground himself to reality. How much time had passed? Was the procedure done? Had he healed you? All questions that he again, did not have the answers to, but at least they were easier to access being that he was here in the room with you. He looked up from the floor to the table, seeing you were no longer bound in those awful straps, but that your eyes were still closed, not looking much different than when he first brought you in here. He groaned with confusion as he fought to catch his breath that seemed a little harder to obtain than normal, stumbling to his feet and towards the doctor who was currently washing a blade with his back turned to Silco. He turned momentarily when Silco pushed him against the sink, grasping him with all the energy and strength he could muster, looking upon him angrily with a fire raging in his eyes. “What have you done?” He rasped out, voice laced with vexation and eyes filled with malice as he waited for the doctor to answer him. “I saved her life” he responded matter-of-factly, making him only scowl deeper as he quickly snatched the knife from the sink and pointed it at Singe, not believing him.

“Sil…?” You called out weakly, voice hoarse from all your coughing, screaming and crying but just loud enough for him to catch. His eyes widened with surprise as he heard you, head turning to look at you reaching out for him. Your eyes searched around the room for him as you’d only just returned to consciousness. In a moment’s notice the knife came clambering to the ground as he stumbled over to you, doing the best he could to get there quickly despite the effects of the drug still weighing pretty heavy in his system. He grabbed your hand as he made it, resting his other against the table and using it to hold him up as he hovered over you protectively again. Silco felt you weakly squeeze his hand back, prompting him to pull you up into a hug so fast you could hardly recognize it had happened. “Thank gods you’re here” you spoke. He was so overcome with joy and relief to see that you were okay, or at least responsive, which compared to how you were before, was already a massive improvement. “I’m here, darling. I’m here, I’ll always be here” he assured, his hand smoothing over the back of your head as he held you protectively in his arms. He nearly cried as he felt you wrap your arms around him in return, kissing your head gently as his heart raced, pounding harshly within his chest from all the adrenaline coursing through him.

His heart broke as he saw the effects the procedure had done to your body, looking to the purple and black streaks running up your arms, tainting your perfect skin. He’d recognized those effects from anywhere. Shimmer. Rage overtook him once more as he turned to the doctor upon his realization. “You used Shimmer on her?!” He asked, voice raised in disbelief that he would use such a harsh, untamed chemical on you under the guise of trying to help you. “It saved her, didn’t it?” The doctor replied, making him seethe with exasperation. “It could have KILLED her!” Silco spat, not taking kindly to Singe’s apathetic tone, but your soft touch brought him back to reality. Your hand cupped his cheek, turning him to face you in the hopes that you could soothe his anger, and you managed to do so with ease. His eyes fell to yours as he turned, that wicked, violent look in his gaze beginning to fade away as he looked at you, seeing a new shade residing in your irises than before. He was doing his best to not allow the scars that had climbed up your arm to your neck to break this tender moment, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt that he caused you this pain, he caused these scars, these changes. Yet you continued to smile at him as if he hung the stars in the sky above. The atrocities he would commit for you to see that smile stay stretched across your sweet lips. To keep you safe and happy. He would kill for you, die for you. “It’s okay, I’m here love. There is no need for such violence, I promise” you spoke, your kind voice so strained, but you were right, he had saved you, something he was thankful for, he just wished it could have been brought about any other way. He fought so long and so hard to keep you as far away from it as possible, yet here you stand, saved by it. It was a conflicting feeling. Now all that was left was to find the vile person caused all of this to come about, but perhaps that was better suited for another time, another day. For now, all he wanted was to get you home safe, to enjoy the time he has with you now that he wasn’t sure he would have when he and Sevika had first brought you here. You needed the rest, your body was tired and so sore. Your recovery was his top priority, so for now his vengeance would have to come another day, but he could rest easy for now knowing that you were still here with him. The world would live to survive another day, but make no mistake, he would burn it all to the ground for you if you asked him to.

376 notes · View notes

coffeeshades · 5 months ago

Text

credits to the gif maker!

GUILTY AS SIN...? - PART I

summary: one summer with the man you can't have, but can't stop thinking about.

pairing: cillian murphy x popstar!reader

word count: 5.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, slight age gap, mentions of alcohol and divorce. no use of y/n, heavily inspired by ts and ttpd. if i missed something please let me know. (also this is a work of fiction, none of it reflects how i feel about the people mentioned in this, most importantly cillian's wife, who im sure is a sweetheart irl. it's fiction, just relax and enjoy it, and if not, move along, friends.)

a/n: hi everyone! this turned out pretty long so i will be splitting it into parts so it's easier. next part will be posted soon. i hope you all have as much fun reading this as i had writing it. enjoy!

part two

The breeze riffled through your hair as you drove, the sun warming your skin through the open windows. The Irish countryside stretching out before you, lush and green, with rolling hills and quaint villages dotting the landscape. The scent of wildflowers and the sound of nothing but the wind in the trees filled your senses.

It was rare, really. The silence, the feeling of complete freedom, and the solitude that enveloped you. A fleeting escape from the chaos of your everyday life.

The ping of your phone interrupted the peaceful moment. You tapped on the pop-up notification after briefly glancing at the directions to your destination. It was a message from Cillian. Well, two, actually. One was asking how far you were, and the other was a Spotify link followed by a question mark. Ever since he started hosting his bbc radio show, he's been sending you potential songs for his playlists to get your opinion. Not that he needs it anyway. But you always appreciate being included in his process.

Your lips curled into a smile as you clicked on the link. The familiar sound of The Blue Nile's "The Downtown Lights" flooded the car, instantly making you feel a wave of nostalgia. It's been ages since you've listened to that song. The synth-pop melody carries you up the pine-dotted path to where his house perches atop a hill, overlooking the crashing waves below. You've been here a couple of times, and yet it never gets less breathtaking. The Victorian architecture contrasting beautifully with the rugged coastline, creating a scene straight out of a painting.

The car glides right past the wrought iron gates, and you cut the engine in front of the stone steps leading up to the grand entrance. You shoot Cillian a quick text letting him know you're here, unbuckle your seat belt, and hop out of the car.

The June sun beats down on your skin instantly, heat radiating off the cobblestones as you open the backdoor to look through your bag for a hair tie. The smell of saltwater mingles with the sound of gulls overhead, sending you into sensory overload. "Gotcha," you mutter to yourself as you finally find the hair tie and pull your hair back into a loose bun.

"You drove here?" you hear him call out from behind you, his voice tinged with surprise. "And you're alone?" you turn around to see Cillian walking towards you, a curious expression on his face.

"I actually had to throw a tantrum to convince them to let me come alone," you reply with a chuckle, feeling a sense of pride at your small victory. "I was like, It's Ireland. What's the worst that could happen?"

Being who you are means being guarded against any potential danger or harm at all times, being driven to almost everywhere, and always having a security team around.

Cillian laughs, a sound that makes your heart flutter and makes you want to hear it again and again. "Well, I'm glad you made it here in one piece, love," he says with a grin. "You're not a very good driver."

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. You did regret your decision to drive from the airport 10 minutes later when you realized you were on the wrong side of the road. But he didn't need to know that.

"I made it in one piece, didn't I?" you playfully retort, trying to salvage your wounded pride. Cillian chuckles and shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye. You stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. He looks good, you thought. Unbelievably good. Well rested. His jet black hair was perfectly styled, even though you know he didn't put any effort into it—the slightest hint of silver at the temples, his sharp jawline, and those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. Though they looked a little tired, as if he had been through a lot since the last time you saw him.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling a rush of heat on your cheeks.

"It's good to see you," you finally manage to say, trying to sound casual. Cillian's smile softens, and he replies, "It's good to see you too." He opens his arms, inviting you in for a hug. The soft fabric of his t-shirt brushes against your skin as you embrace him, and for a moment, everything feels right in the world.

"Come on, let's get inside," he says, leading you towards the house. Once inside, you make your way to the kitchen. The house was quiet; you wondered if anyone else was home. Cillian's family wasn't by any means loud or boisterous, but the silence felt heavier than usual.

"You hungry, love?" Cillian asks, opening the fridge, pulling out a white ceramic container, and setting it up on the kitchen island. You take a seat on one of the stools while he stands across from you.

"For something sweet?" you smile, seeing the container filled with what seems to be a piece of strawberry sponge cake. His mom must've made it. "Always," you reply. He hands you a spoon and takes one for himself, the two of you sharing the dessert in comfortable silence.

Until he broke it.

"How was Madrid?" he asks softly.

"It was good, great crowd," you reply, taking another bite of the dessert. "But tiring," you add, feeling the exhaustion of the long trip settling in.

"How many nights did you perform?"

"Four."

"Jesus, that's quite a lot, isn't it?"

Your eyes meet his; confusion clear in your expression. "You think that's a lot? Didn't you used to do four or five nights in a row of the same play?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "for months…?

"Yeah, but that was a different kind of exhaustion," he explains, taking another bite. "Performing the way you do in front of a live audience for three hours is a whole different ball game, love."

Love.

There it was again. That godforsaken term of endearment that he seemed to throw around so casually. It made your heart race every time he said it, even though you knew it probably meant nothing to him. But the way he looked at you now, with a hint of admiration in his eyes, made you wonder if maybe—

"Want the last bite?" he offered, taking you out of your thoughts. He pushed the container towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. His gaze was intense, as if silently urging you to take it.

"Oh, hello," a voice exclaimed from behind you, breaking the moment. You drop the spoon on the counter, a little startled. As if you were caught in the act of something forbidden. You turned around to see Yvonne, Cillian's wife. She said your name with a surprised tone, making you feel guilty for some reason. "I didn't know you were here," she continued, her eyes flickering between you and her husband.

You started to rise from your seat, confusion clouding your thoughts. That's weird. Cillian usually lets his wife know when you're visiting, but this time it seems like he didn't. She walked towards you, enveloping you in a hug. "When did you get here?" she said.

"Not long ago," you replied, relieved that she didn't seem upset. "I, uh, wanted to take a break and thought Ireland might be a good place to do that," you added, hoping to diffuse any tension that may have arisen. She nodded understandingly. "And you're staying here?"

"Oh, no, no," you quickly assured her. "I rented a place nearby, so you don't have to worry about me."

"Nonsense," Cillian interjected. "You can stay here. There's plenty of room."

"She's already paid for it, Cillian," Yvonne retorted, giving him a stern look.

Something was definitely off.

This was the last thing you wanted. You've specifically chosen the cottage for two reasons. First, to have space. The whole point of this trip was to finally have peace and write music. You've been stuck for months, not being able to find inspiration in your usual surroundings. Everything felt dull inside you all day—an emptiness that was smothering.

Second, you needed to stay the fuck away from Cillian. Being close to him was dangerous territory, one you didn't want to navigate right now. The plan was to come and visit and occasionally hang out and that's it. The thought of being in such close quarters with him was overwhelming. Staying here meant risking your heart and sanity.

You hesitated, also not wanting to intrude on their space, but Cillian insisted.

"Okay…How about if I stay for a couple of days and then move to the cottage?" you suggested, hoping to compromise. "Sounds perfect to me," he said.

This was going to be a long summer.

For the next few days, you dream too much, don't write enough, and try to find inspiration everywhere. As you settled into the routine of staying at Cillian's, you found yourself enjoying the peaceful surroundings and his company more than you expected. The days seemed to blend together, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that left your heart racing.

But you also felt constantly distracted by his presence, making it difficult to focus on your writing or anything else, for that matter.

All you could think about was him.

The piano room surrounded you with its warm, inviting atmosphere, and you found yourself drawn to it more often than not. The big windows overlooking the garden let in streams of sunlight, casting a warm glow over the bookshelf. You felt the softness of the carpet as you sat on the grand piano bench, running your fingers along the keys absentmindedly.

You started humming a tune that had been stuck in your head for days, the words appearing softly and effortlessly as you played:

Please

I've been on my knees

Change the prophecy

Don't want money

Just someone who wants my company

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Who do I have to speak to

About if they can redo

The prophecy?

The humming went on whenever you didn't know what to say next, filling in the gaps between the notes on the piano and the lyrics:

A greater woman has faith

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

I'm so afraid I sealed my fate

No sign of soulmates

I'm just a paperweight

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

Spending my last coin so someone will tell me

It'll be ok

[Hum, Hum, Hum]

The melody filled the room until you stopped abruptly, frustrated that the lyrics weren't coming as easily as before. You closed your eyes with a groan, trying to clear your mind. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath, elbows resting on the keys of the piano.

"You good?" Cillian's rough voice broke through your frustration, causing you to look up and offer a weak smile. You don't know how long he's been standing there or how much he heard of your struggles. "Just hitting a wall with this song," you admitted, running a hand through your hair.

"Ah, I see," he nodded sympathetically. He moved towards the records stacked on the shelf and pulled one out, placing it on the turntable. "I don't want to mess with your creative process or anything, but maybe a break with some music will help," he suggested.

Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" began to play, taking over the room with its haunting melody.

"So you play one of the saddest songs ever?" you deadpanned, "Thanks."

He chuckled softly, "You were playing some pretty intense stuff; I figured it would fit right in."

Oh, so he did hear you.

"Ah, I know it's different from my usual stuff," you said quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious about your music. "I might scrap that one. They might not be onboard with the change."

"And why's that?"

Thom Yorke's voice faded into the background as you contemplated his question, unsure of how to respond.

You shrugged, "I listen to sad music, not make it."

"I liked what I heard," he reassured you, "and change is good. It keeps things interesting."

His low voice was soothing, and you found yourself feeling more at ease with the idea of trying something new. Pop has been your comfort zone for so long, it's what stands out of you, but most importantly, it's what sells. At least, that's what's important to the industry. Maybe it was time to push yourself out of it.

"I guess you're right," you replied, a faint smile creeping onto your face.

"As always," he said, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. He stood leaning against the table where the record player sat, arms crossed, looking as if he had too many things to say and not enough words for them.

"Would this be a good time to ask you if everything's okay?" you inquired, noticing the weight of unspoken thoughts in his eyes. "With Yvonne, I mean," you added, nervous to bring up the topic.

That first day, when you arrived at the house, you could sense there was something going on between them. Something bad. The tension in the air was so obvious, but you didn't want to pry. However, as the days went by, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she hadn't been around or the absence of a certain ring on his finger.

"And here, I thought you were never going to ask," he replied, his words laced with sarcasm.

"I was waiting for you to bring it up," your voice trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. "I-I didn't want to overstep."

He studied you for a moment, or at least, you assumed that was what he was doing. Finally, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat,"We've separated."

A cold feeling settled in your chest as you processed his words. The reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly everything made sense. "Cillian," is all you managed to say, the concern evident in your voice.

He still wouldn't look at you. Knowing him, in moments like this, he wouldn't want to be coddled or pitied, so you save your apologies for later.

"What happened?"

He waved his hand dismissively, still avoiding your gaze. "Nothing, really," he said, his tone final. He didn't look upset, but rather resigned to the situation. "It hadn't been working for a long time; we both knew it was coming. I guess we were holding on for the boys more than anything." You could see the sadness in his eyes, despite his attempt to appear nonchalant. The weight of his words hung in the air, leaving you feeling defeated and unsure of what to say next. You don't think there's anything you can say that will make this or him feel better.

And boy, did you wish you could take away his pain with just a few words.

Cillian walked slowly over the piano, stopping in front of it. He streched his arms over the wooden soundboard, gripping the edges tightly as if seeking some sort of solace in the instrument. He finally looked at you.

"Why didn't you say anything, Cill?" you asked softly, "I would've—"

"You would've what?" he interrupted, his voice strained with emotion. "I didn't want to worry you, you have more important things than my marital issues."

You could see the pain in his eyes, and it tore at your heart to see him suffering in silence. "You're my friend. These things are important to me, Cill," you said gently, reaching out to touch his hand in a gesture of comfort. He flinched slightly at your touch, but then relaxed, leaning into your hand.

He didn't say anything, but you knew he appreciated your words. You could tell by the way his shoulders slumped in relief and the way his fingers loosened their grip on the edge of the piano.

One morning, you woke up to the wind gently rustling through the trees outside your windows. The morning light was clear and clean, leaking through the glass and falling against the walls of the room in soft patterns. It felt too early to be awake, too peaceful to disturb the tranquility of the moment.

You roll over to look at the little clock on the bedside table: 6:20 AM. It wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep, so you threw the covers and climbed out of bed, feeling the cool wood floor beneath your feet as you walked to the bathroom.

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth, trying to wake yourself up fully. Holding up your hair, you tie it into a ponytail while walking over the bedside table to grab your phone and airpods. You put one in your ear and hit shuffle on one of your morning playlists. You couldn't function without some music. "Keep On Loving You" by Cigarettes After Sex starts playing.

On your way to the kitchen, you walked by Cillian's room and noticed the door was slightly ajar. Who the hell sleeps with their door open? Psychos, probably. Curiosity getting the best of you, you peeked inside to see him sprawled out on his bed, body illuminated by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains—characteristic warm and cool shades revealing every hollow and speck of bare muscle. He slept with every limb stretched out, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. It was a rare sight, quite poetic.

He looked so peaceful, completely unaware of your presence. So you let your mind wander.

You imagined yourself crossing the room, pulling yourself on top of him. You imagined the way his bare body would look beneath you, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his dark hair messy around his face, his skin warm against yours. His hands—rough and soft at the same time—running over your thigh, your breast, your neck. You could almost feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze as he looked up at you.

But then reality snapped back into focus.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath. This was just a fantasy, a dangerous game to play with someone who was somewhat off-limits. But truth be told, the temptation was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment. It was all you could think about ever since he told you about his troubled marriage.

It took a long time for your heartbeat to slow. You headed to the kitchen to get some coffee, hoping that the caffeine would help clear your mind. As you rummage through the cabinets for a mug, his voice startles you from behind. "Need some help with that?" he asks, making you jump.

For a moment you thought you were still imagining things, but you turn around to see him standing there with a t-shirt on as opposed to five minutes ago. Great, him walking around shirtless in his kitchen, sleepy-eyed, messy hair, and rough morning voice would've been lethal.

"I've got it, thanks," you reply, shaking the mug slightly in your hand. You quickly pour yourself some coffee and try to focus on the task at hand: looking for the sugar.

"Sleep well?" he asks, voice still husky from sleep, his accent more prominent. He's rifling through the cabinet for a mug of his own. You can't help but notice the way his muscles flex under his dark t-shirt as he reaches up. You hum in agreement, trying to hide your blush as you take a sip of your coffee. "You?"

"Grand," he replies, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. You exchange small talk about the upcoming day, but your mind keeps drifting back to how good he looks in the morning light.

"Any plans for today other than locking yourself in the piano room?" he teases, and you shoot him a playful glare. "Maybe I'll actually venture outside for once," you quip, laughing.

"How does the beach sound like?" he asks, "The boys are coming over, and they're bringing some friends, and I thought a trip would be a nice change of scenery."

"I could use some sun," you admit, feeling a smile tug at your lips.

"Let's make it a beach day then," he suggests, setting his mug on the sink. "We leave at 10, piano woman."

"Ha ha, very funny," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "But I'll hold you to it, annoying man," you reply.

"Annoying man?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was your favorite person."

"Only on days that end in 'y'."

•••

"Are you done with your sad boy music?"

Cillian bursts out laughing, the sound taking you by surprise. He's been playing Radiohead on repeat for the whole car ride, and you were starting to feel like you were in a melancholy music video. "I like their music as much as the next person, but I think I need a break from the sadness," you say.

"Fine, fine," Cillian concedes, reaching for his phone to change the song. The bleak atmosphere in the car lifts as "Linger" by The Cranberries starts playing, filling the space with a more pleasant vibe. Cillian glances at you, he's wearing dark shades that hide his eyes, but you can still see his stoic expression softening as he catches you smiling at the change in music.

"Better?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Instead of answering, you start silently singing along to the lyrics, gesticulating dramatically for added effect. Cillian smiles at your antics, his own lips twitching in amusement as he watches you. The boys were so caught up in their conversation with their friends in the backseat that you were pretty sure they weren't even paying attention to the music or your impromptu performance. With a small smile on your face, you face out the window and enjoy the rest of the car ride in content silence.

When you arrive at your destination, all of you unbuckle your seat belts once Cillian puts the Bronco in park. You all pile out of the car, stretching your legs and taking in the sights around you. You close your eyes for a second and take a breath. The sea air—you loved that smell.

•••

A few hours later, after countless swims and some snacks, you find yourself lying on a beach towel, book in hand, feeling the warmth of the temperature on your skin. You're reading a book you picked up at an airport several months ago by Elin Hilderbrand, or the queen of beach reads, as many call her. You were completely engrossed in the story until you felt Cillian settling down next to you.

His hair was damp from the water, and his skin was slightly glistening. Gosh, he looked absolutely stunning. "Mind if I join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," you reply, closing the book and sitting up. "Having fun?"

"Lots," he says with a smile, reaching over to grab his sunglasses. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. The laughter and chatter of his sons and friends coming from the water redirects your attention back to the beach scene before you. You look back at Cillian, his eyes fixed on his sons.

"They love you, you know," you say softly, watching the genuine joy on his face as he watches his children.

"I don't know if I'm doing it right," he says, eyes still fixed on the boys. "I worry I might've fucked them up by letting my relationship with their mother fall apart."

He continues, "Sometimes I feel they resent me for it."

"Why do you feel that way?"

"I don't know, they just seem distant sometimes. Like they're holding back."

"Hey, that's normal for kids to have mixed feelings about their parents' separation. I was so happy when mine got divorced because it meant no more fighting, but it was also tough to adjust to the changes. It's very conflicting stuff," you say, huffing a small laugh. "Also, they're teenagers now, right? That's a tough age to navigate even without the added stress of divorce."

Cillian nods in agreement, exhaling out a yeah.

You squint against the sunlight beaming behind his head before continuing.

"You're a great dad, you always have been. Just show up and be there for them when they need you, even if they don't always seem to appreciate it. They'll remember it in the long run," you offer, remembering how much your own father's presence meant to you after your parents' divorce. "And I'm not a parent, but what parent feels like they're doing everything right all the time, anyway?"

Cillian turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment before offering a small smile. "I guess you're right," he says sincerely.

"Fork found in kitchen," you retort, breaking the tension with a bit of humor.

He chuckles, "That's clever."

"Well," you continue, "I've been accused of many things over the years, but being unoriginal isn't one of them."

He laughs. Just like he did back in the car: a genuine, carefree laugh that makes you feel a little lighter.

"Want to go for one last swim, piano woman?"

You roll your eyes. "Will you stop calling me that?"

"Not likely," Cillian replies with a grin. "It's too fitting."

You stand up and stretch. You're wearing a one-piece teal-ish swimsuit that you swear you only chose based on comfort and not because it makes your ass and breasts look fantastic. Cillian's eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks away, and you swear you can see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. He doesn't move.

"Are you coming or…?"

"Right, one last swim," he finally says, standing up and following you towards the water.

Maybe that one last swim wasn't a great idea after all.

And why is that?

Because not even five minutes into the water, you thought it would be a good idea to jump from a high rock, and now you're sitting in the car with your knee scrapped, throbbing in pain, and regretting your impulsive decision.

•••

"You're so fuckin' stubborn."

You try to move into a more comfortable position while ignoring the pain shooting up your leg by pressing a hand against one side of the door to keep yourself steady. "And you're so clearly overreacting."

Cillian pushes his bedroom door open. He's also clearly pissed. The ride back to the house was deathly silent. Well, not silent. His sad boy music made a return, and this time with Broken Social Scene. You couldn't ask him to change the music without starting another argument. Even the kids were quiet, beyond asking several times if you were okay, which you assured them you were. Obviously a lie.

As Cillian walks around the room, you reach for your midi white beachy dress and look down at your knee in horror. It's no longer just a bruise, but a gash that is slowly oozing blood. Not as much as before, but still. It looks nasty underneath the shirt Cillian used from his car as a makeshift bandage.

He grabs the first aid kit from a shelf and turns around to face you.

"Take off your dress."

"Pardon me?"

"Take off your dress so I can properly clean and bandage the wound," Cillian repeats, his expression serious. You look down at the blood-stained fabric as if you needed any more confirmation. "Off, C'mon."

You stiffen at his demand, your body going completely rigid at his bossy tone. You watch him stride into his bathroom. He pushes aside some stuff on the counter and tosses the kit onto the counter.

Okay, yeah. He has good reason to be upset. You had no business jumping from that rock.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he'd said before, right when he went to get you. And now you can see the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

You can hear him shuffle in the bathroom while you remove your dress. You still have your swimsuit on underneath, but you feel exposed without the extra layer. Maybe the pain is catching up to you or the fact that you have upset him or that he's waiting for you in the bathroom to take care of you but tears sting your eyes as you try to process the situation. You take a moment to collect yourself. You cannot go in there like this, he cannot see you this vulnerable. At least, not now.

He's braced against the counter, head hung low, when you push open the bathroom door. You nearly back out to give him some space or time to compose himself, but his eyes meet yours and his expression straightens. He clears his throat and then freezes. "I—you're wearing your swimsuit."

"I am. Were you expecting me to change into something else?"

"No," he grumbles, "I mean, nevermind."

He turns back and starts grabbing sterile gauze, his movements slightly jerky. He gestures for you to sit on the counter. "Up."

"I'm not sure I can do that given my—" Before you're done speaking, he scoops you up and sets you on the counter. Your hands are locked around his neck, and his are firmly gripping your waist. They fit perfectly there, like they're made to hold you close.

He reaches behind him, both your faces close together now, and grabs your wrists, pulling them away from his neck and onto your thighs. He puts a hand on your uninjured leg, his touch gentle yet firm. "This is going to hurt." You stare at his impossible blue eyes and think to yourself: yes, this is going to hurt.

"Oh, shit shit," you gasp, gripping his forearm. "Holy fuuuck."

"I've got you, breathe," he commands, and you allow yourself to focus on his voice, letting it ground you. The antiseptic burns both your nostrils and knee as he continues to clean the wound, the pain shooting through your leg causing you to clench your teeth.

"I'm sorry," you breathe out.

There's nothing but silence in response.

"I told you multiple times not to go up there," he finally says, his voice tinged with frustration. "And yet."

"I know," you whisper, feeling guilty.

"Don't do that again," he commands, his accent thickening with emotion. "You could've hurt yourself even more."

"I know," you repeat, not sure how else to respond.

His head is bowed in concentration as he finishes cleaning the wound, his hands steady despite the anger in his voice. You can see his dark eyelashes fluttering slightly as he works. He applies a little more pressure to the bandage than he should've, and you let out a soft moan. This doesn't go unnoticed by him.

The air in the room seems to shift. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something soften in his gaze before he looks away.

"You're not supposed to like that."

Your cheeks heat up immediately.

He's gotten closer to you, your hands somehow made their way to fist his navy blue linen shirt. His body is between your legs, the delicate material of his pants brushing your skin. His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't say I mind it either." Your heart races at his proximity, unsure of what to do next.

His hands slide up your thighs, gently caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He's going to kiss you, and you can't help but wonder if it's the right decision to let him.

But now is not the time to be rational about it.

"I'm not gonna stop you," you say quietly, "I wouldn't know how."

His eyes darken, pupils dilating with desire. He doesn't move.

It's like you're both aware of the line you're about to cross, so neither of you moves.

You keep your eyes firmly on his face. His lips inch closer to yours, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin. Your body is angled towards his, hand gripping the edge of the counter. Your slightly damp hair, now cold, making you shiver.

He's impossibly hard against you, the material of his pants is thin, and you're aware of every inch of him pressing against your throbbing core.

"And I wouldn’t know how to stop kissing you," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. He shifts slightly, causing his erection to press even more firmly against you, both letting out a soft moan. His mouth hovers just inches from yours, just kiss me, you thought.

There's a knock on the bedroom door, which is, by the way, open.

"Dad?" You both freeze.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar, offering a sliver of privacy but not enough to shield you from any potential interruptions.

"Yes?" Cillian calls out, trying to sound casual despite the intense moment that was just interrupted. "We're ordering takeout, do you want anything?"

"No, buddy, we're good, thanks," Cillian replies, his voice strained as he tries to keep his composure. You hear the steps retreating down the hallway.

Cillian steps back, and the absence of his body against yours is jarring. It clearly would've been a mistake to take this further, but a mistake that would've felt so fucking good.

"We shouldn't do this."

He clears his throat. "Yeah."

He moves towards the door, his movements tense and purposeful. "I'm gonna—" he says, motioning the door.

"Yeah," you quickly reply, "I got it."

You watch him leave, the air heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

a/n: thank you for reading! please share your thoughts with me, let me know if you guys enjoyed it :)

part two

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy angst #cillian murphy fluff #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fic

482 notes · View notes

kth1fics · 5 months ago

Text

Twisted Fate (M) | MYG

Twisted Fate

⟶ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader (Y/N) ⟶ Genre: Oneshot, Smut, Rated R | 18+ ⟶ Tropes: Vampire!Yoongi, Strangers to Lovers, Royalty AU, Supernatural AU, Fantasy AU ⟶ WC: 4.7k+ ⟶ Warnings: blood (obviously), some degrading, biting / blood drinking, breast play, choking, sparkling jealousy, unprotected sex, there’s a third party at play, some bondage, fingering, oral (f), threats, reader has a nickname. ⟶ Beta: n/a (no beta just complete yolo - if it doesn't make sense don't worry about it) ⟶ Summary: A slice of vampiric lifestyle here inside the Briarwood Manor walls after you ultimately picked the Lord you wish to serve. ⟶ Author’s Note: I actually feel very bad that most of all my hosted collaborations are incomplete. It happens though, ya know? This Yoongi is a part of the Briarwood Manor Collab, hosted by myself! I never expected to be writing this fic, honestly. But I hope it does well and is good enough! Please leave any feedback or comments on a reblog, post, or even my ask box! ⟶ Song Recommendation: Sweet Sacrifice by Evanescence

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

“Hello, puppet, did you miss me?”

The low mischievous voice whispers a chill in your ear. His cold hand comes to rest on your bare shoulder, stroking your soft skin. If anyone were to see they’d think his touch is sincere and tender, a loving gesture to greet his lover, but they’d be so very wrong.

A puppet is what you are to him, nothing more. To serve however he sees fit. The nickname is quick out of his mouth the moment you pick him under the shine of a blood moon. You aren’t so sure what drew you to him in the first place. Maybe his aura played a trick on you, taunted you with his beauty and looks. An elegant and stoic composure mixed in one. The most unresponsive to the personal sacrifice (you) during the ritual.

You still remember the lifeless blink of his eyes when he first looked at you. From there you should have known he didn’t see the life inside of you. The vampire whose fangs ghost over your neck and haunt your nights is far from a lover. He’s an obligation. A duty. The choice you were forced to make among the six other princes.

Some nights you question what would have been if you picked someone different. How would the others treat their Church’s generous gift? Would you be more than a puppet?

His hand sends a visible chill through you. The sickly sweet voice of Lord Yoongi that you dread has returned after weeks away. There’s no doubt in your mind that there’s a toothy-grin widening on his face when he inhales your scent. You were just starting to enjoy that temporary freedom from his demanding fangs. Oh, how you wish he was gone just a while longer.

Yoongi had been away visiting a nearby kingdom to the West for business. Both Lord Namjoon and Lord Hoseok accompanied him. You know very little of their endeavors. Council work if anything. Matters that a blood-bag, such as yourself, has no business knowing. You are thankful for the pleasant peace of the manor while you had it.

You remain quiet, but your heart pounds in your chest. Anyone in an earshot can probably hear it pumping through your veins. Yoongi sends a full attack to your nervous system and he hardly touches you.

“Let’s pretend that’s excitement,” he comments as a nimble finger runs along your neck.

“H-How was the trip?” You ignore his first question completely. Faking a soft smile to please him.

“Nonsense,” he mutters as his mouth hovers the crook of your next. Your body already expects the snag of his teeth any second now. “Take off that pathetic excuse of a dress the servants dressed you in. I want you in my quarters. Now,” Yoongi whispers with demand.

You feel that there’s no room for objections, you’ve learned the hard way once or twice before. Disobeying Yoongi only makes things harder for you.

The first step you take halts as you feel his hand tug at the lace to your bodice. It snaps easily, loosening the material for an easier escape. Yoongi trails you, watches you with a burning hunger, as one by one you shed your clothes on your way to his room.

There’s no shame walking down the corridors of the manor, you’ve gotten used to these trips. Seen many others in the same position. It’s the way of life here.

Yoongi’s room is one of the furthest from the grand room. It requires walking the stairs and passing several other spaces before reaching the crystal knob of his door. On occasion, his impatience forces you into the music room where he lays you on the piano lid and does exactly what one can imagine.

Although, tonight doesn’t feel like one of those nights.

“You haven’t answered me yet,” his voice hums, “did you miss me?”

You don’t loath the man, but you know what he does to you. How you are easily frail compared to him and fear slipping up. The sharpness in his fangs and in his words and the strength in his grip and demeanor. You do not miss his beastly moods when he sucks your blood savagely and brings you to the brink of tears. To where you fall far too weak to put up a fight.

There are no soft sides to Yoongi, not from what you’ve witnessed anyway. When he’s finished with you, you’re sure he’ll do it with no remorse.

You want to answer truthfully. Saying ‘no’ is on the very tip of your tongue. Maybe his absence did make you feel useless in a way. But you also felt relief by being away from the ruthless need of your body. And for that, you feel a tang of guilt. Making you question how you actually feel.

“Yes, my Lord,” you speak sweet yet flat. “Your presence was greatly missed.”

Finally, you’re met in the center of his room. The still cool air swallows you as you stand there awaiting his next command. The click to the door shutting behind you resounds out loud. It leaves you trapped inside the vampire’s chamber.

“Of course you did,” he smirks to himself as he slowly undos his cufflinks. His eyes continue to scan you, admiring the shape of your body and nudity. “Go on. Sit.”

You see the nod of his head from your peripheral as you stare blankly at the dark silk comforter. A canopy hangs from the ceiling above, draping thick charcoal black curtains. There’s a litter of candles scattered throughout, none of which are lit. You’re granted very little light from the cascading moon from outside the tall paneled windows. It’s darker than usual due to the storm clouds.

Everyday his chamber is cleaned and dusted even when left unoccupied. Yoongi likes his stuff maintained, presetine if he could. If one thing is out of alignment he will notice it. They have workers for several reasons, many for pure enjoyment and food.

As you take a seat on the side of the bed, Yoongi hovers. He stands close, taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to look at him. His grip is menacing, you’re aware of how easily a man with his strength can break your bones.

“Whore,” he comments as he looks down on you.

His voice cuts through you like a knife. Clear and loud. He watches the way your eyes flicker in shock and widen. Heat plasters to your face as his grip tightens.

“Do you think I don’t know?” He huffed a laugh. “Why don’t you tell me what I'm speaking about?”

“Y-Yoongi I –”

He slips a finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue to prevent you from forming any more words.

“Take my name out of your dirty mouth or I'll do it for you,” he threatens.

“I’m sorry!,” you attempt to say out of pure reaction.

Yoongi leans in flashing you a smile, revealing his sharpened canines. His eyes turn a blazing ruby red, popping out of his stark black hair.

“I’ll release your tongue and when the second I do, I expect you to tell me.”

He waits for your acknowledgement before his fingers find their way back to cradling your chin.

“Lord Jimin,” the name falls out of your mouth just as your eyes fall to the ground. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do,” you fester up.

How could you? With no guidance from the Lord you picked. He left you at the manor with very little discussion. There’s unspoken rules you’re still learning to this day. How are you supposed to know what Lord Yoongi wants when he doesn’t speak the words into existence?

“You’re not his,” Yoongi states. He rests one knee on the edge of the bed beside you. His other hand traces up your arm lightly all the way to the back of your neck. With his position, he brings your head back up to look at him. “I don’t care what he says. You picked me.”

“He would have killed me if I denied his advances,” you mention. Confusion and panic swells deeply in your eyes. “He only just –”

Yoongi snorts, displeased beyond belief. “He wouldn’t unless he wanted a war. He knows you belong to me and took the opportunity to take you when I was gone.”

“–Just bit me!,” you managed to get out.

“Hm?” Yoongi’s eyebrow quirks.

“He only just bit me. I swear there is nothing more!”

You plead with your eyes. You’ve never wanted to upset him in any way. The role you play is one you take seriously. If you were murdered by a fellow ally of your Lord, that would have madden him further, no?

Yoongi’s touch turns featherlight, nothing compared to how he touches you when he lays with you. Rough and demanding. Guiding you exactly how and when he wants it. It’s what you’re expecting from him.

He leans down close, slotting his head next to your neck as he breathes in your scent. “I’ll keep you locked up in my room.” Yoongi’s lips touch against your skin, you can’t help but shiver. “Spread your legs.”

Yoongi’s cool fingers ghost your core, leaving traces as they pass each inch. You feel the threat of his fangs against you, making your body heat up quickly. It is safe to say that you do miss the way he touches you. Feeling his grip all over your body, it brings you to places you’ve never – and will never – admit.

“But I'll have no property of mine” – he continues with his earlier words – “be shared like a whore on the street.”

You politely move your head to the side with his hand as direction, bracing for the impact of his teeth. They lightly drag along your jugular until he finds his desired spot before sinking them into your skin.

The feeling hurts like a razor sharp sting as you release a groan. Yoongi’s hand secures you in place as the other presses against your heated core. His fingers slip between your folds, gliding them across your clit and into your pussy. Drawing out the wetness he searches for.

There’s a trickle of blood that breaks through the seam of Yoongi’s lips, dripping down the front of your chest. He’s sloppy, unusual for him. Probably from the weeks away. You stay stagnant, letting Yoongi do as he pleases.

“Lay back,” Yoongi pushes you down before you feel his lips pressing kisses on your thighs. He continues to press two fingers into you while he reaches for your nipple, swirling around the hardening bud.

You close your eyes as you let out a shuddering breath. Your entire body is warming up, aching silently for more. Maybe he misses you?

“Do you want me to touch you more?” The voice is so low you can barely hear it over the heavy rain outside. When his touch does everything to ignite that burning sensation inside, how can you not want more?

“Yes,” you whimper when another kiss lands on your inner thigh. You feel your pussy tighten from the want, the need.

“Yes?” He questions, as his fingers pinch down hard on your nipple. It sends bolting zaps of pain through you, making you yelp at the action.

You feel his plunging fingers curl up inside you and drag against your walls. Your legs move on their own accord, body only reacting to the joyous sensation.

“Oh God, yes! Please touch me!” You plead.

Once your desperate words leave your mouth, he latches onto your clit, sucking the sweet tender bud eagerly. He pairs it well with the pace of his fingers in your aching core, possessive hand roaming your front as his body slots between your legs.

Your curious eyes travel downward to spy Yoongi’s black hair nuzzled between your thighs and feverishly licking at your leaking arousal. It takes everything in you to not place your hands in his hair, you know he doesn’t like being touched. But it looks so soft, so long and pretty.

“I don’t want you to ever think about being bitten by anyone else,” he growls. “Your blood is mine and mine only.” You feel your leg being lifted enough for Yoongi’s fangs to pierce the skin on your inner thigh.

His words and actions make you whimper. Yoongi’s tongue laps over the bleeding blood on your skin.

“I won’t,” you affirm as you toss your head to the side. Absentmindedly your fingers thread through his hair, it feels like the finest of silks. “I only want you to bite me, Lord Yoongi.”

Your confession pleases him. He replaces his fingers with his tongue, diving it deep into your leaking hole. A moan slips from your mouth while your fingers fasten a lock in his hair. Lewd noises spill into the air from the vampire sucking and licking at your core, devouring the taste of you.

Doing what he says always grants you intense pleasure. Being good tends to satisfy you, you realized that a long time ago. Once Yoongi draws you agonizingly close to a climax, he withdraws his pursuit. Leaving you in a cloud of haze.

‘Is that it?’ you think to yourself. Why the sudden stop? Did you do something wrong?

Yoongi reluctantly pulls from you, forcing your hands off his hair with a sinister smile. Blood and arousal is smeared across his mouth and chin.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper the question.

You’re left huffing and puffing as you feel your orgasm slipping away from you. His menacing stare down doesn’t ease your mind and you feel your body shriveling up from under his scorching red eyes.

“Time to learn your lesson.”

Yoongi manages to pull your body up the bed to the headboard. Fastening two hard metal cuffs to each of your wrists. You’ve been here once before in a playful gig, but the motivation behind Yoongi’s tone sends a shiver to your spine.

You obey, as you should, while the darkness of the drapes shroud around the bed. You’re left with red glowing eyes staring straight down at you once again. His ethereal features, as beautiful as they are, frighten you to say the least. There's anger swirling inside of him. The angel you view Yoongi at shows how the cut of his eyes are deadly, the shape of his jaw is sharp and the curve of his lips stands against the casted shadows of the dark. You feel the anxious fear bubbling up inside your body, a spike of nerves setting aflame.

“What?”

He can read you like a book. Heart pinging higher than the normal rate. A confused quirk of your brows. Even the clearing of your throat and desperate breaths have him understanding your senses. Your body language tells him everything he needs to know about your fear.

“Brianne!” Yoongi snaps his fingers together as he calls upon a servant.

On cue, the door to his room opens and closes. She walks as punctually as ever, hands clasped in front of her apron as she curtsy bows to the vampire.

“My Lord,” she smiles. Paying you no mind as you lay naked and latched to Yoongi’s bed. “How may I aid you?”

“My puppet here is in need of a lesson. Care to participate?”

“It would be an honor,” Brianna bows.

Unspokenly, she begins to shed her clothes piece by piece. Yoongi hums to himself as he does the same. You are left strapped there, witnessing the entire event in confusion.

It’s as if this has been done before. You watch with worry as Brianne steps out of her skirt and pulls out the ties of her hair, allowing it to cascade around her shoulders. She steps toward the bed, eyes nearly lifeless, as she glances at you. There’s several, very visible, bite wounds on her body.

Quickly, Yoongi meets Brianne from behind. His hands guide her atop the mattress as she kneels near your feet. You curl up further, drawing your legs into yourself as your mind races with endless possibilities of what’s about to happen.

“Puppet?”

You flinch, very noticeably, at the bark of your nickname. You hadn’t realized how on edge your nerves are until now.

Yoongi follows behind Brianne, being sure to peer over her shoulder at you with his ruby eyes. Brianne is displayed before you, legs spread apart as she kneels, tits in full view. Yoongi’s crafty and daft hands sliding across her front and touching every piece of her. It’s a taunting scene, mentally riling you up inside.

“I want you to know,” Yoongi begins with a devilish low growl, “How easy it is,” he pushes aside Brianne’s hair to expose her neck, “For us to take a whore.”

Yoongi latches his mouth down on Brianne, forcing a muffled groan out of her throat. He bites, and bites, and bites, until there’s a chain of red leaking down her shoulder and arm. Some meet the mound of her breast, where Yoongi happily is cupping with his own hand while the other is gliding down her front and rubbing circles on her clit.

You watch in shame and fear. Seeing the way Brianne thrives from the mutilating hands and mouth of the Lord. Pleasure crosses her face, pain and ecstasy. She has no embarrassment with the noises that leak out of her. You swear you see her face mocking yours as you turn away.

“Look at me,” you hear the demanding growl of Yoongi.

But the burning heat of anger tingles your face. You fear disobeying him though. It only can make things worse.

“Puppet!” he growls over Brianne’s moans. Yoongi pushes Brianne down on her hands, her head closer to where you curl up against the headboard. “Look at what I am doing!”

You hesitantly glance over, hating the scene you see. Yoongi’s possessive hands scratch Brianne’s back as he lines himself behind her. There’s blood covering his front, smearing down his chest as his mouth gaps open. You squirm uncomfortably. As much as you loathe what’s happening, how your heart is thumping with disbelief and hatred, it bothers you even more that it turns you on.

Yoongi spits down at the junction between Brianna and himself and lathers his cock with his free hand. He slots himself inside her roughly, pulling out a loud moan from Brianne and forcing tears to swell in your eyes.

“Look at me!” He commands again, and this time you stare at his glowing eyes.

Locked in and afraid to move. Sure you can see Brianne through the edges of your sight, you can see the way Yoongi’s abs flex with each harsh thrust he inflicts on her, the way her audible noises fill the room just like the way Yoongi’s cock fills her pussy.

He keeps his stare with you, eyes threatening. “How do you feel when I choose someone else? To make them feel this good while I feed and fuck them? Do you think you’re so special to go around and give yourself up like Brianne here?” He grunts between breaths, making sure to give Brianne a good ramming as her hips get pulled back into him.

Yoongi continues to speak to you, “Do you want to end up like this?” He quizzes you again. He forces Brianne to flip over, revealing all those scattered bite marks on her body including his own. He arches her back by holding a hand under her. You can’t help but to flick your eyes down at it.

There’s a burning rage brewing inside of you, watching the way your Lord takes care of another. Bluntly in front of you as well. You don’t think you’re anything special, just a gift from the Church. There’s no doubt in your mind Yoongi has all the freedom to do what he pleases, but you’re mad that you aren’t the option when you were only raised to be such.

You remain silent and fear stricken. There’s upset and anger on your face and he can see that. Pathetically, you are his. You picked this. But desperately you want to only be his.

“No,” you whimper out. There’s a sad tear that rolls down the curve of your cheek.

“‘No’ what?”

There’s thorns forming inside of your throat, digging into it as if your voice doesn’t have freedom.

“No I don’t want this!”

Yoongi continues to thrust into Brianne, but his attention is on you. His hand closes down on her throat, squeezing slowly to prevent airflow.

“Have you learned?” His fingernails begin digging into Brianne and you hear her noticeable gasp. “That a whore is used by many and can be,” – he squeezes firmer, watching Brianne’s hands clasp around his wrist in protest – “killed with no feeling of guilt?”

There’s a gargle replacing the moans in Brianne’s mouth. Her eyes are bloodshot and full of tears. Yoongi pays no attention, he knows what he’s doing. But he keeps his ruby eyes on you, stalking your next actions.

“Yoongi, stop!” You shout with warning, “She’s going to die!”

“So?” His voice is cold.

“Stop!” you plead. “Stop it, stop it, stop it! I get it! I’m sorry! Just stop it!” Each hopeless syllable falling out of your mouth amplifies higher until you shout.

Yoongi finally halts his actions completely, releasing his grip on poor Brianne and pulling out of her. She gasps as her lungs fill with air, hands clutching her throat. Yoongi rolls her over, letting her legs hit the floor beside the bed and commands her to stand.

He analyzes her, wipes away the wet tears from her face before patting the side of her head. “Gather your things,” he beckons. “Please seek Lord Jimin and tell him you are but a gift from me.”

Brianne attempts a hoarse response but her throat is far too fragile to speak. She quickly gathers her belongings and rushes out of the room, holding her throat with a hand the entire time.

As the room falls silent, you can’t help but stare at the naked vampire in front of you. He’s thin, toned, skin milky pale due to his vampiric complexion and lack of sun. Cock stands out, still hardened as a hand runs along its length.

“Never become a whore, puppet. It’ll get you killed.”

Yoongi turns to look back at you, seeing how shriveled up you’ve become. He knows the power he holds and the loyalty you only wish to fulfill. It’s how you are raised. You want to act on your own actions, but Yoongi is the shotcaller. The owner of you.

“I’m only yours,” you state with a nod.

Like lightning, Yoongi returns to you. Finger’s dipping into your cunt again. He groans with the seeping wet arousal leaking from you, making sure to comment on how you must have been turned on all along. He pushes deep inside your needy walls, stoking and thrusting his fingers at a quick pace almost as if he wants you to cum right then and there. His tongue works on your clit, swirling delicately around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pleasure between your legs causes you to tremble, Yoongi’s name falls out of your mouth as you tug on the cuffs chaining you to the bed. You’re beginning to feel the start of your delayed climax from before. Your breaths become shallow pants while you can’t help but ride Yoongi’s mouth desperately.

Your hazy mind takes away your active awareness and forces you to enjoy the senses you hear, feel, smell, taste, and see. Yoongi works his way up past your navel, peppering kisses on his pursuit to your clavicles. His teeth glide over your skin only enough to scratch you as you whimper from the loss of his tongue.

Somehow you end up on your knees and straddling Yoongi’s pelvis. He flipped you quickly to slide himself under you. The chains twist, forcing your wrists together. His hair fans out around his head as he rests on the pillow, eyes lazily looking up at your hanging breasts. You feel the cold hard hands on your hips as he leads you onto his cock, letting you slide against his length and spread your arousal on him.

You use your arm to muffle your moan as he slips his tip inside of you. The promise of his length inside of you makes you eager so you press down. Letting an inch deeper before he pulls you back up to begin the process again.

Yoongi leans up from under you to latch his mouth on one tit, sucking harshly at your nipple before sinking his fangs enough to draw blood. The sting hurts, you whine on the impact as he simultaneously draws your hips down onto him. Stuffing his thick cock inside your tight cunt.

You want to lean on him for support but those blasted chains hold your position high. In reaction, you bite your own arm as you feel the way Yoongi fills you up and feeds on you. The joyous satisfaction you gain from pleasing the Lord is soon to follow.

Yeah, there is no way you wish to be a whore. Yoongi is more than enough.

“You like it. Don’t you, puppet?” Yoongi chuckles. He pulls on your hair sharply, twisting your head to the side to admire his earlier bite mark. “You like being my little puppet and filled up like this, huh?” Yoongi grinds his hips into you, his other hand firmly guiding your body to ride him.

You’re left breathless, painfully in pleasure, but fully enjoying being filled to the brim by his cock. The recklessness of his grip on your hair and bleeding from his beautiful bites. It’s so devilishly good, you could never wish to be anything more than his puppet.

“Ah, please,” you groan. The sound of skin against skin resonates throughout the darkened room. It’s mingled with your beautiful cries and his low guttural grunts.

“I love it,” you confess.

You don’t ever want to be used to getting filled so well. You don’t want to be curious about the other princes and how they would treat you. Something about Yoongi is exactly what you need, you just never knew before. Is the lesson supposed to make you have this realization?

Yoongi releases a low groan against your skin, murmuring, “you feel so fucking good. You taste so fucking good.”

Once again, Yoongi sinks his teeth in you. The pain draws you closer to your impending orgasm and you yelp outloud.

His thrusts become even more determined. Your chest arches into him as you tug on the cuffs that limit your hand movement. The noise from the headboard thuds rhythmically against the wall as your cunt clenches.

“Cum on me,” you hear the words tickle your ears. Yoongi’s hand wraps around your head and leads you into a bloody, searing kiss. He hushes your moans as his tongue dives past your teeth.

Metabolic tasting liquid seeps into your taste buds but you aren’t focused on the flavor. The cradling hand on your cheek and gentle soft strokes of his fingers on your hips are. The deepened kiss, full of lust and passion, sends you to overdrive as you whimper through your crashing orgasm.

Your legs shake against his sides in the same pace of your walls gripping his cock. Your blood trickles down on Yoongi’s chest as you ride out the waves of pleasure. Wet squelching sounds happen at the intersection between you and him as his thumb runs circles against your clit.

You feel your eyes fluttering shut as you groan. Your rolling orgasm kicks your body into realizing how much strain it’s handling. The harsh mixture of pain and pleasure. Your body is beginning to fall limp, the life and energy inside of you finally hitting their max. You want to collapse but Yoongi continues to thrust into you, perhaps chasing his own high.

“Ah,” you breathe as Yoongi’s mouth detaches from yours. His eyes focus on the mess of arousal on his lap, the way your cunt disappears his cock entirely. There’s a vice grip on your hips now, all you can do now is be a toy for him.

A puppet, so he’d say.

Your head begins to spin as your vision fades into darkness. The last thing you see is the beautiful features of Yoongi, enjoying full on gratification from your body. Blood covered across his smooth poreless skin and black raven hair.

moodboard credit: @kth1

#twisted fate #briarwood manor collab #bangtansorciere #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #yoongi x reader #vampire!yoongi #suga smut #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts vampire #kth1 #bts one shot

397 notes · View notes

hazelfoureyes · 7 months ago

Note

Little question: Would you ever consider doing anything alastor x pregnant!reader? (Human or demon form)

Have a good day deer 🫶 your writing is scrumptious, we appreciate you ❤️

Thank you 🥺わI feel like I’ve been avoiding it because I want it so badly ?? I don’t even know where to START? I guess no time like the present

It started before you even woke up. Alastor’s large and sensitive ear pressed against your stomach, his anxiety only quelled when he could hear both heartbeats in you. Duplicity. Soon enough you’d have two of everything. To his great upset, you still weren’t showing. He had nothing to parade around the hotel and to other overlords. Look what Alastor could do— a marvel, a miracle, a threat of his long lasting presence on top.

He read, often. The titles definitely changed once he knew you were expecting, though. He learned your body would always be changed after this, down to the molecular level. What better way to ensure you were always his? For eternity?

He knew you didn’t feel anything yet, no flutters or kicks, but that didn’t stop his hands from slipping down your stomach as he leaned against you from behind. Maybe he could feel something. Maybe his child would be a fast learner, given its lineage. He’d have to check, often and thoroughly.

Which was made easier by the fact he never left your side for much longer than an hour. An hour full of tense smiles and anxious ticks. Alastor would shadow portal out of the room the moment he could, sometimes while people were mid-goodbye, protective hands on you before he was fully materialized.

When he wasn’t beside you, his shadow was. It would grin and flit around on the walls, making sure it was seen by others. People noticed, but no one questioned it. Alastor was a weird man with weird ways of handling his business, after all. And he’d clearly made you his business. He couldn’t wait until he could make it clear you were more than just someone he’d taken a passing interest in.

Every little hiccup and stumble you made had his heart in his throat, a sweat breaking out faster than he could compose himself. He sometimes wondered if he could convince you to just never leave the hotel. And avoid the stairs and that shoddy balcony, while you were at it.

He only found peace at night, you tucked in close beside him. His hand always on you. So much as a slight shift in your sleep and he was alert, ears and eyes turned in your direction.

Until he couldn’t keep still, anxiety and excitement blurring together and compelling him to lean down and press his head against your belly and listen for his new favorite song. A beating melody he’d broadcast across the pride ring when it was time to announce hell’s newest native child.

「 ✦ Largely Smutty Masterlist ✦ 」

Alastor with baby Alastor

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #Alastor x you #baby daddy alastor #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #fanfiction #fluff

830 notes · View notes

seiwas · 1 year ago

Text

₊˚⊹。—will i ever bring you peace? | gojo satoru

wc: 1.4k

summary: gojo can’t give you a quiet life. no matter what.

contains: written with f!reader in mind but no pronouns are used, hurt/comfort, jealous!gojo, more of gojo’s internal thoughts, mentions of an oc, gojo deserves all the luvin!!

a/n: split this into two parts: the first half (the prev part), lighter and more central to reader’s perspective, while the second half (this one), darker, and more central to gojo’s perspective. best read after ‘so this is what it means to be in love’ because there are some references made! reading the other parts, while not necessary, will add more to the experience (some references are made)! song i listened to while writing this was peace by taylor swift!

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5a. this feeling inside of me— <- you are here -> +04. take my time (i'll spend it all on you)

“Would you ever want a quiet life?”

The pond below you ripples as the koi fish swims away.

You turn to face Gojo, hands hanging over the bridge railing, remnants of soft youth in his cheeks at 24.

“I’d say it’s pretty quiet right now.” he answers, signature teasing lilt to his tone. He gestures around him, focusing your attention to how tranquil it is right now—sun beaming and the sound of nature in birds chirping and water trickling.

You roll your eyes; it’s always the distractions and non-answers with him.

The silence between you is the product of years spent getting closer to reach this point; a silence of knowing that gives Gojo the space and time to reveal things on his own.

“You already know my answer to that.” he says after a while, looking back down to the pond beneath you.

And you do—with his small smile, almost resigned. There’s no point thinking about it. Just like when you’d asked him about love. It’s just not meant for him.

“Would you?” he throws the question back at you, turning to you when he asks it.

It’s a silly thing, to let hope like this bloom; you both know it’s well past that point now, too deep into chasing his vision for the future of jujutsu society—but it’s free to dream, right?

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.”

Gojo’s starting to hate that sinking feeling in his stomach lately—knots twisting before they burst into fits of pop! pop! popping!

It’s uncomfortable and annoying, seemingly getting worse the more he sits in these political meetings with you and ‘Kazuo’—or whoever this politican is, pulling your seat for you and making you laugh; the gentleman etiquette. He even lets you call him by his first name.

There’s a slight tic to Gojo’s brow as he sits across you, leaning on the back of his chair with his arms crossed and leg propped up on the other. Obviously, you’re just being nice, nodding and smiling as you listen to Kazuo run through the document for this meeting beside you.

But it still makes Gojo ache.

He hasn’t been to many of these meetings, but he’s gathered enough to know what kind of guy this Kazuo is: well-dressed, good smile, good teeth–all things he has himself–but also, a gentleman, good-natured and hardworking, kind and gentle, and most of all at peace. Rumor has it that he’s looking to settle down soon, away from the politics to a nearby town just on the outskirts of the city—not too far but also not too close.

Seeing you smiling with him now just brings it back, that conversation you had years ago at 24 gnawing at him.

“Would you ever want a quiet life?” you had asked, and when he threw it back to you—

“I would, I think. Some peace from all this.”

It aches.

Gojo waits for you at the end of the meeting, watching as you and Kazuo continue to exchange pleasantries. He knows there isn’t anything to it, but there’s that knot in his stomach again, pop! pop! popping! and it worsens when he hears the secretaries gush about how you and Kazuo look so compatible, perfect—fit to get married.

How disrespectful to your relationship, Gojo thinks.

He huffs, quiet enough not to cause a scene but loud enough for you to hear him—to know that he isn’t in the mood for any of this. And in the perfect way you’ve synced yourself to him all these years, you smoothly transition into giving Kazuo your well wishes, accepting his handshake as your eyes meet with Gojo’s for him to do the same.

When you both step out of the room, you make sure to hold his hand tightly, surely, in all the loving ways, but he grips back only lightly, leaving a small space–that infinity–between your palms on the way back home today.

When Gojo thinks about it, it isn’t even because he’s lacking. He’s worked hard and continues to do so everyday, treating you well, loving you in the ways you deserve.

But will it truly ever be enough?

How can it be when you deserve more, so much more than this life you’ve been chained to since you were young?

Jujutsu society has been so rough to the both of you, that he thinks you, out of all people, deserve at the very least, some peace. Now that his vision is turning into a reality, maybe you can take a step back and afford a little more leniency.

A good life, with a good partner, who will love you in peace.

Someone like Kazuo.

Not him.

The thought is unusual; Gojo’s never really been one to feel insecure, but he thinks that, when you love someone this much, you’ll always want the best for them, even when you realize that the best might not be synonymous to being yours.

Gojo can’t give you a quiet life.

No matter what.

Who he is is so intrinsically linked to this society and the direction it's taking that it’ll follow him wherever he goes.

He sinks deeper into his pillow.

“You okay?” you come out of the bathroom, dressed in the matching pajama set you both got a few weeks ago—his, buried somewhere in the mishmash of your laundry clothes.

The thought sears itself into his mind, how your lives now are so intertwined.

He doesn’t answer.

How can he ever let this go?

It aches. Again.

The bed dips as you get into it, lifting up the comforter to snuggle into him. His back is facing you, unmoving, but your heart beats against the warmth pressed to your chest.

You hope he feels it, how it’s for him.

“Wanna let me in your head a little?” you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your nose at the nape of his neck. You use the same body wash but Gojo has always retained a scent that is distinctly his own—a bit sweet like the strawberries he loves eating and something close to baby powder, as unassuming as it may be.

His breath hitches before he starts fiddling with your fingers resting on his waist. He’s biting his lips, you know.

“Do you still want a quiet life?” he mumbles, almost a whisper. You wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t so pressed up against him.

You’re confused, a little shocked, but mostly confused because where did this come from?

Gojo holds his breath, waiting for your answer. He can’t turn to look at you when you do, afraid that what he’ll find—what you’ll want, won’t be something he can give you.

“Doesn’t sound too bad, I guess.” you answer, lips tickling his skin. He can’t release his breath; it’s the answer he’s been dreading.

There’s silence, a stretch that feels too long but only spans a few seconds. His mind plays an endless loop; the single thought that that isn’t the life he can give you.

Should he break up with you?

How is he supposed to tell—

“I like this life now better though, with you.” you squeeze him tighter, kissing the side of his neck that you can reach.

He stiffens in your hold, but you can feel the thrums of his heartbeat. It comes slowly, but he releases the breath he was holding before relaxing a bit, something you hope is from relief.

“You sure?” he asks, trying to sound teasing, but you hear through it. Of course you do.

“You’ll be stuck with me forever, you know.”

You can swear he sniffled.

“Doesn't sound too bad to me.”

He shifts, turning to face you, and when he sees you—

—it’s like falling in love with you again, he thinks.

The ache is still there, but it’s different, replaced by something burning, almost bursting; the feelings he can’t contain—he wants to say it: I love you; thank you for loving me, but the words are lodged in his throat and his eyes are watering, collecting like pools of rain along his lash line before spilling.

Gojo doesn’t cry often, but when he does, you try to kiss away every hurt, every pain, that comes with it. So there, by his eyes, are your lips, soft and tender, kissing away his tears as you cradle him to your chest, letting him hug you for however long he needs to be held like this.

It’s relief, he wants to tell you, that you don’t have to worry; these are good tears—grateful that he gets to have you in this life because you like it better.

But there’s no pressure, there never is with you—you’ve always been like that. You don’t question him right now, trusting that he’ll tell you all about it tomorrow like he always does.

For now, all you want to do is hold him, quiet down all the noise in his head and keep him right by your heart, loving him close.

a/n: the first and second part wouldn’t have fit in tone if i put them in one fic, so i split them! the first part is lighter and just overall good vibes if you're up for that!

thank you notes: to niku @stellamancer for listening to me and being there when i seriously needed it writing this!! & to dilly and somi my bbgirls!! @crysugu @soumies for always cheering me on, especially during the slump!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #satoru #shotorus.writes #col #gojo x you #gojo x yn #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x yn #jjk x y/n

1K notes · View notes

starclancy · 1 month ago

Note

How would the Straw hat crew react to female reader singing “Carry on wayward son” (from Supernatural) but she is singing it in a soft calming tone like if she is doing something, like cooking, or cleaning, or doing some work, and they think she has a beautiful voice?

Tysm for this ask it was so fun to write!!

~ Calming Melody ~

PAIRING: Reader/Luffy, Reader/Zoro, Reader/Sanji, Reader/Robin, Reader/Nami, Reader/Brook, Reader/Franky, Reader/Usopp,

CONTENTS: 🩷 - fluff

WORDCOUNT: 1110

Request status: Open

Luffy

Luffy was sprawled across the deck, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his skin. The faint sound of Y/N’s voice drifted through the air as she hummed and sang while cleaning the galley.

He perked up immediately, sitting upright. “Whoa, Y/N! Your voice is so cool!” he shouted, barging into the galley without a second thought.

“Luffy!” Y/N laughed, pausing her scrubbing. “Don’t just yell at me like that!”

“But it’s true!” he insisted, grinning ear to ear. “Sing it again! Sing it louder this time!”

Before Y/N could protest, Luffy started singing—or at least tried to mimic her tune with his own enthusiastic (and tone-deaf) twist.

Zoro

Zoro was in the training room, lifting weights when he heard it. At first, he thought it was just his imagination, but as Y/N’s voice carried through the corridors, he stopped mid-rep to listen more closely.

Her soft, calming tone reminded him of the peace he felt during a quiet afternoon nap. Curious, he followed the sound, finding her calmly chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

“You sing a lot while you work?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Y/N looked up, slightly startled. “Oh, sorry. Did I bother you?”

“Not at all.” Zoro smirked slightly, crossing his arms. “It’s… nice. Keep going if you want.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he found himself lingering nearby, pretending to check his swords just to hear more.

Nami

Nami was mapping in her corner of the ship when Y/N’s song reached her. At first, she didn’t pay much attention, but the melody wormed its way into her focus. The soothing tone helped her relax and concentrate, drawing a soft smile to her face.

“Y/N,” she called out, stepping into the kitchen. “Are you trying to put us all in a trance with that voice of yours?”

Y/N laughed, wiping her hands. “I didn’t think anyone could hear me!”

“Well, we can, and it’s gorgeous. You should do it more often.” Nami leaned against the counter, smirking. “Though, don’t be surprised if the others start making requests.”

Usopp

Usopp was tinkering with one of his gadgets when Y/N’s voice wafted through the open deck. He froze, his hands mid-motion, as he strained to hear better.

“Is that… Y/N?” he whispered to himself. A grin spread across his face, and he quickly abandoned his project, heading to the source of the music.

“Y/N! That was amazing!” he burst into the kitchen. “Your voice is so good, it could probably charm sea kings!”

“Don’t exaggerate, Usopp.” Y/N rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“No, really!” Usopp gestured dramatically. “With that voice, you could tell an entire story and make everyone cry by the end!”

Sanji

Sanji was already in the kitchen, working on the crew’s next meal when Y/N started singing. He froze mid-stir, the spoon clattering into the pot as he turned to watch her in awe.

“Y/N… your voice is incredible,” he said softly, his usual flirtatious tone replaced by genuine admiration.

She blushed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were listening.”

“Listening?” He grabbed her hands dramatically. “I feel like I’ve just heard an angel! Please, Y/N, let me cook to your beautiful melody forever!”

Y/N laughed, playfully pushing him away as he swooned. “Get back to work, Sanji!”

Robin

Robin was reading on the upper deck when Y/N’s soft singing reached her ears. She closed her book, her lips curving into a gentle smile as she let the soothing tones wash over her.

Finding Y/N in the galley, she lingered in the doorway, not wanting to disturb her. When Y/N paused, Robin clapped softly.

“Beautiful as always, Y/N,” she said, stepping into the room.

“Oh, Robin, you’re too kind!” Y/N said, feeling shy.

“Not at all,” Robin replied, her eyes twinkling. “Your voice brings a rare peace to this ship. Thank you for sharing it with us.”

Franky

Franky was busy hammering away at a repair on the ship when he noticed the mood shift around him. Something in the air felt… calmer. He set his tools down and followed the sound, eventually finding Y/N humming as she worked.

“Y/N, that’s SUPER!” he exclaimed, striking a pose.

Y/N chuckled. “Thanks, Franky.”

“Your voice is like… the soul of a rock ballad but way more chill!” he said, grinning. “You ever think about starting a band?”

“I think one noisy ship is enough for me,” Y/N teased.

Brook

Brook was the most thrilled of all. As a musician, he had an ear for talent, and Y/N’s voice captivated him immediately. He practically floated into the room where she was singing, his violin in hand.

“Yohohoho! Y/N, your voice is music to my ears—quite literally!” he said.

“Thanks, Brook.” Y/N smiled. “Do you want to play along?”

“Of course!” Brook started playing a gentle accompaniment, his notes harmonizing with her voice perfectly. By the end of the song, the whole crew had gathered to listen.

“Encore!” Brook declared, bowing dramatically. “Your voice deserves to be shared with the world, my dear!”

166 notes · View notes

touchme-teezme · 29 days ago

Note

hi mimi! idk if u take requests but last pick was everything to me like i lovedddd the book that inspired you 😭🥹 can i PLEASE get a san version with the “did you want to watch me burn” poem? just destroy me. my heart is yourssss

This Time.

PAIRING | collegeboy!san x fab!reader

TAGS | arguments, smut with a plot, kissing, oral, angsty unprotected breakup sex, san has great pull out game, and a (sort of?) cliffhanger… again? idk i suck at writing tags and proper endings lolololol

RATINGS | NSFW 18+ (minors pls DNI/if it makes u uncomfortable don’t read it)

SONGS | No One Noticed - The Marías, Not You Too- Dr*ke & Been Like This - Doja Cat

SUMMARY | The breakup for this couple was on the horizon. One of them was in denial, and it’s not you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you all for showing Last Pick a lot of love & anon for enjoying it. since a san version was requested, here ya go :) lmk which member should be next if you'd want me to actually make this into an angsty atz smut series. kinda like the idea they’re all connected?¿ like a smutiverse… im a little tipsy rn writing this part. also if u catch mistakes, no u didn’t. kk bye love uou

inspired by a quote from Save Me An Orange by Hayley Grace: what more did you want from me? i gave you my heart my soul my body i let you build a home inside of me but you still went to the store and bought a lighter just to set me on fire did you want to watch me burn?

You’re usually an optimist but it wasn’t until San smashed the vase you bought and painted together at that one arts and crafts store that you realized optimism could only take you so far.

A screaming match broke out immediately. Words bounced off the walls, echoing in your small apartment as fingers were being pointed. He followed you around the entire house as you tried to walk away from the conversation, pinging in your ear like a fly.

San gets emotional when he cares. It was the first thing you liked about him when you first started to talk. How nice would it be to be with someone so well in-tune with their emotions that they don’t why away from it?

If only you’d known it would result in this.

The relationship was done for. It had been for a while. He had been far too busy juggling classes, work, and his new friends who seemed to suddenly fill all the time he used to spend with you. You’d barely even seen him in weeks, and when you did, it was like you were fighting for scraps of his attention.

San’s voice cracked as he shouted behind your head. “You think I don’t know I’ve been busy? I’ve been juggling everything, trying to keep it all together, and you—you—think I don’t feel guilty? You want me to just drop everything? Stop hanging out with my friends? Quit school? What do you want from me?”

He was following you now, not letting you get a moment of peace. You forced yourself to focus on the task of cleaning up the shards, trying to block out his words as you looked for the broom around your house.

“Do you think I want this? You think I want to feel like this? You think I want to hurt you? But you keep demanding more from me, and I can’t do it anymore! I can’t just stop living my life to fix yours!”

“Oh fuck off!” You barked back, finally finding the broom that was in an odd spot in your wardrobe (probably because San had placed it there the last time he used it). You were now growing more annoyed.

“Don’t curse at me! Listen to me for goodness sake!”

Your hands trembled around the broom handle, but you marched towards the vase shards and started sweeping, trying not to hear the poison dripping from his mouth. You had given up on fighting—there was no point anymore. He was too far gone, wrapped up in his own world that was so difficult for him to show up.

“You’re too much, alright?” he spat, his voice cracking with frustration. “I can’t breathe, I can’t think. Every time I try to focus on something else, you’re right there, needing something from me. I can’t fix this. I can’t keep being suffocated—“

You dropped the broom.

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time, and in that moment, you never felt like this about him before.

“Do you hear yourself?” Your voice was shaking, but it was steady, sharp. “In that whole rant you just forced me to hear, not once did you mention us—not once did you mention me like i’m not in this fucking relationship with you! Not once did you mention all i’ve done for you, and the only time you did was to insult me!”

San opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just stood there, eyes wide, lips trembling.

You stepped forward as if to challenge his speechlessness, your heart pounding in your chest. “What the fuck are you still doing here then?!”

The room fell silent.

And then, out of nowhere, he tried to reach for you.

It was a movement fuelled by panic if he was truly honest, it was a final desperate attempt to fix things without actually knowing how.

He just knew that he had to have you in his arms and you’d melt. His hand caught yours, pulling you closer, but you yanked it away.

He stepped closer, his breath ragged, reaching for you again with a look in his eyes that was pure guilt you knew all too well.

Your stern face broke when he managed to get you in his large strong arms that wrapped around you.

You stood there, shaking, breathing hard, barely able to hold back the tears.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Your cracking voice was muffled against his hard chest.

And then, in his painful silence, he cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours.

You did not stop him.

In fact, you couldn’t.

His next kiss was more desperate and frantic than the last, like he was trying to compensate for all the times he had utterly let you down.

When he finally found the self control to pull back, both of you were panting, faces flushed, hearts racing. He looked at you with a mix of fear, guilt, and longing in his eyes. He wiped your damp cheeks, cupping the sides of your face.

"I don’t mean to," He whispered. “I-I swear, everything I said, I-“

You shook your head in denial, wanting to just shut him up with more kisses knowing if you both talked, you’d eventually argue.

For once, you didn’t want to fight. If the relationship was crashing and burning right now, might as well get one last lick out of it, right?

Metaphorically, and quite literally.

San groaned softly into your mouth, his hands coming up to tangle in your hair and snake to the small of your back as he deepened the kiss with his tongue.

"You drive me insane," He breathed against her lips, breaking the kiss to look into her eyes.

It was true, you always had, in the best and worst ways possible. The feeling was mutual as you stared back at him.

He couldn't resist your pull, the way you were in the moment consumed him entirely. His hands roamed your curves, and reached down to grip your ass firmly as he walked you backwards towards the couch.

You let out a soft gasp, your fingers digging into his waist as you let yourself get sat down with him positioned above you. His knee perched up right between your slightly parted legs.

The friction his knee brushing between your legs sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. He could feel your pulse quickening, and your breath hitching as he sucked and kissed the sides of your neck.

Your hands slipped beneath his black shirt, seeking for skin. With a slight eager tug, he took it off without any argument, revealing his lean muscled torso that you did not hesitate to touch and admire knowing it was going to be the last time.

Instead of letting that knowledge crush you or him, with a low moan, he just leaned into your touch.

“Tell me to stop…” He breathed out, hands on your shoulders to steady himself. He struggled to maintain control as his arousal throbbed against the inside of his zipper.

“Keep going.” You replied in a husky whisper.

With a groan, he gave in to the temptation. His tongue met yours, as his hands slid down to your chest to cup your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, having to bite back a smirk when your back arched into his technique.

Your nimble fingers freed him from his jeans. Unbuttoning, and then zipping down before massaging his hard on through the fabric of his underwear. A breath of relief escaped his lips when his throbbing cock was finally freed.

He helped you out of your top, watching you stroke his impressive length in your hands from above. His hands glided down your back and unclasped your bra, letting your breast sit in all its glory.

He was going to take care of you first until your mouth engulfed him without missing a beat.

“O-oh my god.” His hips bucked involuntarily forward as your skilled hand continued to stroke, the dual sensations of her and her fingers wrapped around his member threatening to overwhelm him.

San’s eyes rolled back as you took him entirely into your mouth. His body weight leaning on his forearms that were on either sides of your head, holding onto the back of the couch for dear life.

Your skilled tongue and throat working in tandem to bring him to the brink of madness. The wet heat blanketing his aching cock was almost too much to bear, each bob of her head sent him more and more over the edge.

"Oh f-fuck!” His mouth hung open as he fisted your hair and fought the urge to thrust deeper.

A part of him couldn’t make sense why this was happening now of all times. He could’ve just taken your desperation to touch him for granted but something about it didn’t feel right.

With effort and a hell lot of focus, San gently stopped you before he could cum. He stroked the side of your face when you looked up at him confused. He shot one of the sweetest dimpled smiles at you.

Seeing that dimpled smile light up your face.

With a hand behind your head, he laid you back on the couch gently. Your hands politely stayed on your own chest, cupping them as you watched his next move.

In one swift motion, he tugged down your underwear with your pyjama shorts and tossed them away.

One of your legs get thrown over his shoulder, and he used his other hand to part your leg wider. His head moved down to your glistening sex and his tongue licked a strip up your folds.

Air got caught in your throat. You let out a shaking deep breath through your lips. His hand on your thigh moved up to your chest, intertwining his fingers with your fingers against your racing heartbeat.

You gripped onto his fingers every time he’d do something that sent shockwaves through your body either with his lips, tongue or his nose. He kissed your sensitive clit, alternating his tongue between that and pounding into your entrance.

“San,” You whined, which only encouraged him to keep going. You tilted your chin upwards, facing the ceiling as tears began welling in your eyes. Unclear if it was the pleasure or the sinking feeling in the out of your stomach.

Then you felt that body shock again, jolting you as you let out a loud moan.

You met his eyes. Those cat-like eyes staring back at you between your legs with laser focus before lazily shutting when he turned his head to the side to lap up your slick arousal from the inner part of your thighs.

He got up and took off his underwear before hovering on-top of you, centring his hard shaft just past your entrance as he supported himself up by the armrest behind your head.

His chain necklace to drop down and dangle in your face.

He gazed into your eyes, reaching down to rub your slick folds once more. He leaned down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips as he readjusted his hard dick between your legs. Your hands wrapped themselves in the dip of his waist as your knees pressed against his hips.

“We can’t keep fighting forever,” You told him in a faint whisper.

Leaning down, he distracted you by capturing your lips into a tender loving kiss to slowly pushed in. He felt your teeth on his lip as your walls adjusted to him.

“I know.” Was all he could murmur against your face as a hand cupped one side of your face.

He kept having your lips in between his as he started to move, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm designed to slowly ease into you. Small gasps escaped your lips and you clutched onto his biceps for support while your neck stretched upwards.

“Baby, you feel incredible.” He picked up the pace slightly, his thrusts growing deeper, and more insistent, as he chased the intense feeling coursing through him.

The way your body clenched around his length, the soft gasps falling from your lips.

With your moans of approval, he seized the opportunity to go even deeper and quicken the pace in your wet welcoming heat. He pulled in your mouth for intoxicating searing kisses he couldn’t get enough of.

“I miss you,” You whimpered out the truth between the kisses. “S-so much.”

He snapped forward with new determination accentuated by the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each other.

He let go of your mouth to focus on your chest. "I'm right here baby." He mumbled over your breasts as he cupped one in his large hands, brushing over your nipples before reaching down to lick.

He alternates between wet kisses and whirling his tongue, aimed to only give you pleasure. In his defence, he hasn't had the opportunity to do this in a while.

You grabbed a side of his face to look into his lustful eyes. “I really did love you.” You breathed out.

“I love you too.” He replied, too entranced by the moment to catch that single word in your sentence.

You crashed your lips against his. The technique of his kissing made you moan loudly into his mouth, and then against his jaw with your eyes shut when he was hitting the perfect spot over and over.

Your body was tensing up tighter and tighter as the pressure of the inside you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

“I’m close,” San panted. “Come for me. Come first.”

As a result of his husky words, your walls clench around him, and your climax comes crashing in. One passionate thrust as he buried himself inside your convulsing sex, the intense orgasm shook your entire body violently.

While your final convulsions faded, you slumped against the couch, panting heavily. Meanwhile, San rode off your enjoyment only to abruptly slip out of you before blowing a load inside you without a condom on.

He released himself from your legs that were wrapped around him and hurried to your nearby bathroom, his hard-on in his hands.

You lay there in a daze, trying to make sense of everything, feeling a mix of confusion and shame. You covered your face with your hands, desperate to hide from the reality of the situation.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up from the leather couch to sit up, its surface sticking a little to your sweaty skin, before you reached for your underwear lying forgotten at your feet.

You managed to get most of your clothes back on when he returned. The sight of him—his broad athletic build and that confident stride—distracted you just long enough for him to lean down and kiss you, his hands gently resting on the side of your neck.

You instinctively covered his hand with your own, locking eyes with him.

“Everything okay?” His voice was soft.

You stayed quiet for a moment, the weight of his question sinking in.

He kissed you again, his lips warm and insistent, and for a moment, the thoughts swirling in your head began to fade.

Before you knew it, he lowered himself down onto the floor across from you, wanting to pull you on top of him to straddle him.

“Stop. No more.” you murmured, pushing him away gently.

Your heart pounding as your knees pressed against the hardwood floors when you realised you were already sitting on his thighs.

San sharply sighed, a little disappointed, but he didn’t fight it. He let go of his grip on your waist, and you slowly kicked yourself off him.

The two of you lay on the floor, side by side, your breaths finally slowing after whatever that was. The silence between you wasn’t comforting in the slightest.

He reached for his underwear with his feet, slipping it on slowly, his eyes never leaving you. He was trying to read you, trying to understand what was going on.

You turned your head to look at him. His eyes turned to the ceiling, his expression unreadable, distant even though he was right there.

“San,” you began softly, your voice breaking the stillness. “I think we—”

His phone buzzed, cutting through the tension, and he glanced at it with another sigh. You felt the moment slip away as he got up and fumbled for his phone left in his pants by the couch.

“It’s Mingi,” he muttered.

“San,” you tried again, your tone heavier this time, begging for his attention. But he’d already answered the call.

You stayed on the floor, your chest tightening as fragments of their conversation reached your ears.

“Dude, what? I’m in the middle of… Huh? No, I haven’t heard from her,” San said, his tone sharp but tinged with concern. “She’s been dodging everyone since that night at Yeosang’s when you wouldn’t shut up about your conquests.”

Your frown deepened as you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. His brows furrowed, his full attention on the call like you weren’t even there.

“Well, maybe you should go check on her then,” San said, leaning back against the couch. “What, come over? Her place or yours?”

A pause, then his expression shifted—confusion, followed by clear exasperation.

San ran a hand through his messy hair. “Fine, whatever. I’ll come over later.” He hung up, tossing the phone onto the floor like it had personally wronged him.

“Mingi needs help with something,” he said it like that was enough explanation.

You stared at him, baffled and angry, “So you’re going?”

He turned to you, guilt flashing briefly in his eyes before he looked away. “I don’t have a choice,” he said quietly.

The words hit you like a slap, but what was worse than the sting was the inevitability that this was always how it would be. You, waiting for scraps of his time, his attention. Him, running off to play hero for everyone but you.

“You always have a choice. You just never choose me.”

Guilt and shame took over his tired expression, “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You shot back. “You couldn’t even let me finish breaking up with you before answering his call.”

“What? Babe, it’s not like that. Look, he really likes her and—“

“Save it,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Since you’re always serious about everyone else, just go.”

He hesitated, his hand hovering near his phone. “You’re being—”

“Go,” you repeated firmly, tears welling in your eyes but your tone unwavering. “And don’t ever come back this time.”

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to defend himself, or to stay, but then he stood up. He pulled the rest of his clothes back on, grabbed his phone, and shoved it into his back pocket without a word.

He glanced at you on his way out, his gaze searching for something, anything, to make this easier. He convinced himself he’d call you tomorrow, that this wasn’t really goodbye like the other times you both have tried to end it. He didn’t realize how serious you were this time.

He walked past the shards and the broom and left. The door clicked shut behind him.

#ateez #choi san smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #choi san #ateez oneshot #atz smut #san x reader #atz x reader #ateez fic

160 notes · View notes

littlemissayu · 3 months ago

Note

Hi, I really love your twisted wonderland fics, especially the ones where the twisted wonderland boys are being fathers, had me fangirling for hours!!! So I was wondering if you could do a Twisted Wonderland Boys x Reader: WEDDING EDITION!! (Proposal, Ceremony(with Wedding dance song), Honeymoon(kinda saucy)), Also with some Chaotic shenanigans? I've been watching a lot of Rom-Com movies lately, especially My Best Friend's Wedding.

A Quick Trip to The Alter

A/N: I wanted to write some sort of wedding headcanons so thank you for the suggestions!! I really love domestic so its nice to get to do it. It might have taken me a while to get to this due to working on something separate, but now I'm gonna spend some time trying to update more.

A/N#2: I don't remember the last time I was editing this but geez, it's taking me long to post anything at all, I've had ZERO inspo the whole summer, and now school's starting up again by the time I'm writing this author's note, but let's hope I get this out b4 September lol. Let's also hope somehow school will motivate me to be more active in posting A/N#3: I lied I wasn't gonna get this out before September, I apologize. As I am writing this authors note it is 9/17/24 and i've only finished Riddle's part....

Pairings: Heartsabyul x FEM!reader (romantic)

Proposal-

It's romantic obvi, he's so awkward, not to mention atp that he's proposing you guys have been dating for 5 years MINIMUM.

It was a sunny afternoon and the two of you were having tea out in your backyard right by the newly blooming roses. The table was filled with white rose red and (ur fav color). As you two were sitting Riddle was so obviously nervous, and when he spoke up you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“ Dearest, we’ve had a wonderful 5 years together, you’ve been the greatest addition to my life. Without you I feel like a kingdom without its ruler, lost and chaotic”

Riddle’s face was redder than his hair you might’ve mistaken him for a Christmas tree skirt.

“There is nothing more fulfilling than spending all my days in your presence. Your absence is my worst nightmare and your smile is my greatest treasure. A treasure I want to cherish for the rest of our existence”

You finally notice the black velvet box in his hand. He drops to a single knee in front of you, at your mercy. Looking up at you with pleading eyes he ask-

“My Darling Rose, will you become my Queen of Hearts?”

Ceremony-

The ceremony is in a banquet hall, filled to the brim with red and roses. Your favorite color and the blood red compliment the white decor and clam lights.

Riddle was at the end of the aisle, the nervousness on his face was evident. Trey as his best man at his side Cater in tow. And when you finally walk down the isle it's like time freezes in place, and his heart stops, seeing you all done up in your stunning attire, hair, makeup, and just everything about this moment was perfect. His heart warmed, a feeling of home washing over him.

"My dearest, Y/N, you are my peace and my home, everything that I am and will be is with you. The name on my heart is yours. I will spend every second of everyday devoting myself to you and our love. Being your husband is a title I will cherish for all my days"

Wedding song: Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Rey(instrumental orchestral version/Great Gatsby ver.)

Riddle would want the first dance to be romantic and classy just like you guys and this entire wedding, so y'all are totally slow dancing to this song, because the orchestral version just sounds romantic and grand(especially the ver. from the lady on TikTok who was walking down the isle to it iykyk)

Honeymoon-

I feel like ya'll would go somewhere in the country side, whatever the equivalent to the french countryside, where you guys will be in a beautiful vacation home there surrounded by fields of wildflowers and small fruits growing on bushes nearby, with a small town down the road. While Riddle would enjoy going out into he town with you and learning it's history and culture, he'd also enjoy other honeymoon activities in the comfort of your comfy vacation home, besides even the bedroom is so gorgeous it's only right to use it for one of it's many purposes.

Proposal- It will catch you so off guard. Picture this it's a night after a long day at the bakery and the two of you are walking home together as usual. He asks to walk a long route because it's more scenic and your like sure so you guys are walking and you stumble across a huge willow tree, specifically a weeping willow and you see two initials one are his and the one at the end of the plus has your first initial and his last initial so you joke how it would take a wedding ring to make that happen and he just says "So let's make it happen, Y/N L/N, would you make the decision to not only share a last name, but a lifetime together?"

Ceremony-

I dunno why but I'm convinced yall get married in a garden or something. Think about it a nice forest with luscious trees and greenery, complemented by the fresh white and complementing amber color, as you make your way down the isle the standing their a we smile on his face as you come down the isle. His family and yours watched the two of you in awe and filled with love in their hearts and their eyes.

"Y/N, so much is beautiful about you, your eyes, your hair, your teeth, your smile, your warm embrace, and your sweet face. But nothing can compare to the beauty of your love, the most precious gift anyone could give me. Now I don't have to waste a second yearning for your love cause now I'll wake up to it in the morning and it'll give me the peace I need to sleep at night. I will spend every second of everyday trying to give you the love you give me tenfold and more because you are so worthy of that love and anything you could ever ask for. Thank you for being mine."

Wedding Song: Just the Two of Us by Bill Withers and Grover Washington Jr.

Vintage, romantic, classy. This is the song Trey would guide you in an intimate waltz with all his friends and family watching. Romance is in the air and everyone can feel the love between you two. And while the two of you are waltzing he's whispering all the things he plans to do to you the minute you're left alone.

Honeymoon-

Now if you've noticed I am RUNNING with this greenery theme but you two would spend your week away together on a lovely lake house that you rented for a week(or however long). The sweet sounds of birds chirping and the sun peeking through the small crack in the curtains as the sounds of the outside relaxed the two of you. The smell of the forest filled your nostrils from the small crack in the window. resting you head on his bare chest and the two of you are cuddled up under the covers. No view the lake could give would be better than the sight of him on top of you.

Proposal-

Think about it like this, the two of you are on a vacation together and he takes you to a private romantic dinner to commemorate your last day there (and take some cute pics for the gram). You finish taking pics and he mentions the beauty of the view. "But it would be more beautiful if you were in a wedding dress" you turn to look at him "And why would I-"

"How about a diamond to become a diamond for starters?"

Ceremony-

An evening/late afternoon ceremony. It's in a gorgeous town hall with marigolds and roses to compliment the warmth from the love that was bouncing off the walls. And as you walked down the isle in a dress that complimented and flattered you in ways that didn't seem possible. And as Cater looked at you, making steps closer and closer to be his wife, his heart melted. Only you could tell that at this very moment he wanted to shed a tear(ugly cry) at the sight of you. Everything in this moment felt complete.

"Thank you for giving me your love and affection. Nothing about you could ever compare to the love of anyone else, you are my home and my heart rest in your hands. Your delicate loving embrace holds my heart dear and guards it from the dangers of the world. My love for you is everlasting, every second of everyday my love for you will increase tenfold and all I want is to serve and love you the way you deserve as not only the fantabulous person you are but the way my wife deserves"

Wedding Song: Die with a Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga

Man maybe it's just cause I'm obsessed with this song, but I can just picture Cater and his new stunning wife dancing in the romantic lighting of the wedding reception to this heart warming song, that makes me wanna fall in love with someone so baddddd.

Honeymoon-

Whatever the equivalent to Greece in twisted wonderland that is exactly where your going. Think mamma Mia vibes. Maybe you're on an island, an island by the mainland with a Airbnb (well the test equivalent) that's right near the water with a stunning view, and you guys are near a market place too. You're out on the balcony where you're looking out into the sea as your husband wraps his arms around, his bare chest out and his head resting between your neck near the bruises and marks from the night before were, ones that he made sure were their himself.

Proposal- A part of me wants to say that he just randomly asks one day while you guys are eating dinner but I'mma trust him and say that he put some effort behind this because he loves you. So let's say you two were at a dinner with his family, and strangely enough the topic of marriage is brought up every so often. "You know lilies are pretty wedding flowers" "Don't you think that a summer wedding would be better than a winter wedding?" "Isn't the idea of settling down just darling, especially if you've been dating for a while, just seems like the logical next step doesn't it?". The only reason you weren't heavily suspicious is cause they always pondered out loud when you two would tie the knot. So by the time you left you hadn't really thought much about it. As you two head back to the car Ace asked if you wanna take a walk by the park that was only 20 minutes away walking and you were down. The walk was mostly quite the two of you just enjoying the scenery that there was to appreciate in the Queendom. Once you get to the park you two are walking deeper and deeper when you notice a small empty area near the flowers where fairy lights are set up? The fairy lights are hanging up on the branches of two trees and it was stunning, Rose petals dabbled around the area and you look at it in awe as your distracted you hear Ace clear his throat and you turn to him, on a single knee.

"Y/N, we've been together for, a while and I think I'm ready to spend my life with you, not as my girlfriend but as my wife, so would you like to be my wife?"

Ceremony-

An intimate wedding in a stunning garden. And there is totally fairy lights because when I think of Ace for some reason I think of fairy lights. Like imagine the fairy lights entangled in the seat to light your way to him and all the Rose petals and the smiles of your families. A beautiful arch adorned with roses the color of blood and ones a pure white as a compliment. Hints of gold everywhere really harp on the warm feel. Ace looks at you smirking, trying not to laugh, not cause anything's funny, just cause the fact this is even happening feels so unreal, you're seriously about to become his wife.

"Y/N, thank you choosing to stay by my side. I can be a hassle sometimes, you tell me as much, but you've never left. You've loved me and cared for me every step of the way. I plan to spend the rest of my days living up to being the perfect, or somewhat perfect, husband you deserve. I don't think I'll ever reach that standard but I'll do my damned hardest trying to. If you were to cut my heart open all you'd find is you, anything and everything about you. That is what I live for, to be your husband."

Wedding Song: I Think They Call This Love by Elliot James Reay

This song is so damn romantic and if Ace had to define you guys love I'm confident this is what he'd pick. If you haven't heard it listen to it please this song is so good and I really think it embodies Ace's love. If you've read my Rom-Com song picks you'll understand why, this song and that one have the same vibe in my opinion.

Honeymoon-

Yall totally going to like the TWST equivalent of Portugal. Imagine site seeing, Ace would say it's boring but he'd secretly be invested in the beauty of the culture and history. Especially all the palaces and market places. He loves it, the views are fabulous, the foods fantastic and the people are great. But his favorite part of this place isn't the white sand beaches, the detailed architecture or even the culture that was built into the place. His favorite part is when you two are left alone in your resort room when he's left to be between the warmth of your legs. Eyes to eyes, skin to skin. Yeah that's definitely the best part

Proposal-

He's nervous af. Sweaty palms, racing thoughts, stuff movements. This man is STRESSED. You two are taking a romantic blastcycle ride at sunset when he stops a cliff with a stunning view of a valley. You can just feel the nervousness radiating off of him and you rub his forearm to calm him, chuckling you ask him what's up and his face becomes flushed as he looks over his shoulder to the view right by the two of you as he begins to speak

"Y/N, you know that I love you.I'd do anything to ensure your happiness, even if it was without me. You're special to me, and that's why I hope you can have your happy beginning with me. Will you marry me?"

Ceremony-

Totally in a like a small chapel, with friends and family surrounding the two of you. The blue chrysanthemums and white jasmines decorate the chapel. The soft music of the wedding march playing as you make your way to him. He's sobbing. uncontrolably. You're just such a vision in white, you're beauty filling him with warmth but his love for you is really what has him in fat tears running down his cheek as he looks at you ever so lovingly, making your way to the start of your life together, forever.

"Y/N, I can barely describe my love for you. It transcends any word or saying or thought. I treasure anything and everything you say, do, think, or express. Your joy is precious and I'd do anything to preserve it and help it grow. I will do my best to be a dutiful and worthy husband. No gem could compare to the pricelessness of your love, everything I do will be to show my love for you."

Wedding Song: Line without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery

I have zero logical explanation behind this pick besides the fact this songs like Deuce, not voice wise, but tone wise. Something about this song is so moving and so Deuce kind of love, like this is how he would describe his love for you, but to him it'd never feel like enough, there's so much more to his love for you.

Honeymoon-

Sweden(the TWST equivalent ofc), like imagine you two staying in a quaint yet busy cute Swedish town. The warm lighting of the place and the warmth of the food, the people, the culture. Imagine waking to the sight of pure snow sitting on the buildings and people starting there day, the smell of fresh winter and the warmth of the hot chocolate warming you right up. But nothing can compare to the warmth you get from your now husbands bare skin against yours, warm and comforting. Your limbs entangled together under the sheets, very satisfied from the night before.

A/N: the fact this took me months get over with is ridiculous, let's hope the school year somehow, motivates me to write more. I dunno I guess when I don't feel busy I forget about all my writing but when I feel busy I wanna write desperately. Anyways, Ik I always say this then never release anything BUT FLOOD MY INBOX BABES. I will force myself to sit in front of my computer til I get something out of myself. You guys have great ideas and I'd love to recieve more to release more content, besides the ones I think of ofc.

If y'all think this deserves to be a series lmk, I think I'll actually be up to it

Heartsabyul Masterlist

TWST Masterlist

Grand Masterlist

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fluff #riddle rosehearts x reader #cater diamond x reader #trey clover x reader #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader

240 notes · View notes

wnbnny · 6 months ago

Text

꒰ forever and a day ⭑ ꒱ - y.jh

genre ⋆ slice of life, est. relationship, fluff w small bit of angst, jeonghan x fem.reader! | wc ⋆ 0.9k | author's note ⋆ i was listening to fireworks & rollerblades & forever & a day is my favourite song on the album so i decided to write abt it >< listen to forever and a day as you read <3 | not proofread bc i wrote this at 3 a.m >< tw ⋆ reader is mentioned as 'wife', insecurities

i started driving through the hills, told me to come and get you

"hannie?" you called out softly, head peeking out from your shared bedroom's door. jeonghan raised his head, locking eyes with you. "yes?" he hummed, eyes filled with an unreadable softness and emotion you couldn't quite place.

no words convey the way it felt for me to finally hold you

"can... can i join you on the couch?" you asked tentatively, not wanting to bother him and disrupt his peace when he looked so cozy curled up on the couch. "of course baby, you don't have to ask. c'mere," he stretched out his arms, an open invitation for you to mold perfectly into.

in my arms just long enough to know

you took a step forward, and it wasn't long before you had finally crossed over the expanse of the living room to stand in front of him. you climb onto the couch, afraid to accidentally step on his limbs, tangled up in the heavy yet soft blankets. settling your head on his shoulder, you were enveloped in a comforting warmth, jeonghan's arm subconsciously pulling you closer into his side. the tv was playing an old rom-com, and the two of you settled into comfortable silence as you cuddled.

know every word you're gonna say before you even think it

"she's so pretty," you comment, eyes fixated on the actress on screen. it fills your heart with a pang of mixed envy and sadness, insecurities coming to the surface. what if jeonghan thought you were ugly and left you for someone better? there were so many prettier women out there, ones that had beauty you could only dream of. the nagging feeling in the back of your mind grew even louder, drowning out the background noise. your hands, tangled in the blankets, fisted them slightly, clenching as you tried to futilely conquer the negative thoughts. jeonghan frowned, noting your fidgeting which could only mean one thing. "hey, you're prettier," he remarks, looking down at you. "thanks," you murmur, but jeonghan can immediately tell you don't believe him. "i mean it." he furrows his brows, and cups your chin to make you face him. his brown orbs bear into yours, hoping to get the message accross. you nodded slowly, the dullness in your eyes slightly disappearing, but not completely gone. he would work on convincing you, jeonghan vows. for now, he settles back into the cozy silence as you watch the sitcom.

but somehow, every joke you make is funnier each time around

"did you hear about the new store? you should visit it sometime, i've heard it's really good," you ponder. you and jeonghan are at the park, out on a date. "sounds great, but it would be better if i had you to accompany me," jeonghan leans in, a playful smirk on his face. you giggle and blush, rolling your eyes in faux annoyance. "oh, shut up, you big flirt."

your laugh is such a perfect sound

jeonghan watches as you giggle as you chatter with your friends, a fond smile on his face. you look radiant and happy, and he vows he will do whatever he can to always keep that smile on your face.

these butterflies lived a million lives to say

you blush, watching as jeonghan leans down to tie your shoelaces for you in the middle of a movie theatre, butterflies in your stomach. "done," he finishes with a smile, standing to press a featherlight kiss against your knuckles as you beam up at him.

i swear I've known you longer than

"oh my gosh, remember when we first met? i literally spilled coffee all over you," you laugh, on another day with jeonghan, this time at a cozy cafe. "you looked like you were on the verge of crying," jeonghan chuckles, then adds softly, "you were cute."

i don't believe in destiny but i might have to say

"hannie?" you ask, and he hums in response. "yes?" "do you believe in destiny?" you ask, curious. "hmm... not really. i think you get to choose how your life turns out, whether through your actions or decisions," he explains, and you ponder on his answer thoughtfully.

your melodies, they're changing me

this time, you and jeonghan and sitting on the floor of the living room, christmas lights twinkling merrily on the colourful christmas tree in the corner. jeonghan is singing, strumming on his guitar, and then cozy warmth of the hot cocoa you hold in your hands envelops you in a soft, fluffy cocoon of love.

i'm yours, forever and a day

you and jeonghan stand under an archway, hands intertwined and cheeks flushed, giddy with excitement. he was dressed in a sharp tuxedo - and you in the most stunningly beautiful white dress that seemed to flow like water. "i, yoon jeonghan, promise to take y/n l/n as my wife, to have and to hold, from this day onward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part. i promise to love and cherish you, to be the rock for you to lean on when you're down and had a bad day at work. i promise to be the one you can trust and confide in, to pour your burdens and insecurities to, and if i could, i would take them all from you, so that you may always have that radiant bright smile on your face i love so much. i promise to love you, forever and a day."

mastertag : @starseungs

344 notes · View notes

pokechbi · 1 year ago

Text

🎀No Rest for the Wicked🎀

(Somnophiliac) König !!

im impatient and couldn't for the life of me wait for the poll to be over in a week, so here you go! Somnophiliac Konig FTW !!!

- 18+ NSFW, so MDNI! 🔞

- Fem anatomy used

- WC: 2.2K (not proofread bc again, my coochie wrote this)

I added a sound for this one, since this is the song i listened to while writing it! love me some lumi athena <3

This one's just plain filthy! Enjoy 💗

Whenever Konig sees you sleeping, his mind can't help but wander to what you're dreaming about. He can't help but stare at you for long periods of time, just thinking about you, letting his mind be utterly ravished by you. It always starts out innocently: He watches you breathe deeply, your chest rising and falling with every expansion of your lungs. He watches as your lips part, eyes moving around behind your eyelids as you dream about whatever it is that was on your subconscious mind.

He talks to you gently as you sleep, knowing you can't hear him. His nightly one-sided conversations often range from seemingly insignificant confessions, to admitting his filthy obsessions over you that he would surely be too ashamed to say out loud.

"Mein schatz...You drive me so crazy. Every second of the day, I just want to touch you...to love you. To be inside of you..." He'd say, feeling himself getting worked up just watching you take his words in, without knowing you are. He contemplates what else you can take in without knowing. He'd imagine you just lying there, your peaceful sleeping form blissfully unaware as your sweet plushy walls subconsciously clench around him, pulsating with every beat of your heart.

When you first started finding yourself falling asleep near him, he would never think of doing such a thing to you, even though it darkly plagued his mind every time you slept near him. It drove him crazy, just watching you. He didn't know why he was like this, and he would always stop before you woke up. A much different ending than how it happened nowadays. But before you became aware of what he was doing, waking with a confusion and a sopping wetness between your legs, feeling the pleasure and utter ecstasy running through your veins, part of him always had the impulsive need to run his hands over you while you were asleep, and more. It would start small, like gently running his large hands over your face, testing how much of a heavy sleeper you were, how much you could take before your pretty eyes fluttered open in confusion and lostness.

There were times when you stayed asleep through all of it. From when his heavy breaths caressed your sleeping face, practically drooling as he grinded himself against your ass, feeling himself harden and jerk with every touch of your skin against his. He'd move his hands to your breasts, fondling your nipples and watching as they hardened against his fingertips subconsciously. He watched as your breathing hitched in your sleep, your dreams probably taking a very nasty turn. He'd take the fat of your thigh in his hand, lifting it and gently turning you on your back, as to not wake you by being too rough (even though he wanted nothing more than to absolutely ruin you). He'd shuffle down, placing his head between your legs as he inhaled your scent. It fueled him, made the blood rush to his cock at the speed of sound. He'd start off gentle, ever so slightly flicking his tongue against your sleeping clit, testing your limits to see if you'd wake up. He'd go in for more once he saw that you were sleeping deeply, sucking at your little bundle of sensitive flesh, your thigh jerking subconsciously. It entertained him, and had it not been for the human body waking itself to external stimuli, he could entertain himself for hours. Just watching how your body loved him even while it was asleep.

He'd smile deviously, eating you out and helping your cunt become a sopping, weeping mess in preparation for his growing cock. Once you were absolutely dripping wet, he'd slowly rise to lie next to you, turning you on your side and spooning you. He'd lift your leg up, holding them wide open as he slid his cock back and forth between your pussy lips, groaning quietly as he coated the head in your wetness. Once he was hard enough, he'd enter you so painfully slow, his eyes rolling back into his head as he held himself from pounding his dick into your cervix. He'll be propped up on his elbow, watching your face carefully to make sure you're not waken up by his insatiable appetite for your sweet little hole. Not being able to grunt and groan caused him to practically drool, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead as he fucked you, nice and slow. And when he feels like he's had enough, he'll close your thighs over his cock, slipping it between the pooling wetness right under your pussy. And once he's found the perfect spot, feeling your clit graze the swollen, throbbing head of his dick while your thighs caress the rest of his shaft, he'll start going to town.

He'll pick up speed, pressing your thighs tighter around his shaft, feeling the familiar tightening in his core, signaling that he's about to spill his hot, sticky cum all over your thighs and cunt. His cock hardens as he breathes shakily, digging his fingers into your thighs, not caring about waking you at this point. The coil in his balls snap, and his dick pulsates as he spills his cum all over your pussy and thighs.

"Mein gott..." He whispers, his voice practically a grumble. "Look what you do to me, schatz."

You'd wake up in the morning feeling sticky between your legs, your eyes peeling open lazily as you reach a hand down to your cunt, collecting the sticky substance around your fingers. You bring it up to your nose, smelling the sour smell of sex and semen. You turn to look at a sleeping Konig, and you just knew. You knew that deep breathing, that smell of sweat and manly musk that he radiated when your pussy had just put him to sleep. You smiled triumphantly, feeling proud of yourself because of the fact that you had him so damn pussy whipped, even when you were sleeping. You in your most vulnerable moment, the moment where you felt the least sexy, had managed to turn this battering ram of a man into a horny, desperate filthy mess.

And then there were the times when you did wake up, mid thrust, confused and lost but the only thing you knew was you wanted it harder. You needed it harder, faster. He knew you'd woken up, now mercilessly pounding into you, replacing every waking thought that dared to generate with the feeling of pure, utter euphoria. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing as if his life depended on it. All you could think about was his dick, hard and throbbing as he laid behind you, holding your thigh up as your walls squelched and wept around him. He let out a string of German expletives, all of his sounds previously held back now releasing themselves ten-fold.

"Scheisse...my pretty liebe. Did I wake you? How does it feel when I fuck you awake, hm? When all you can think about is my hard cock, going so fucking deep that I touch your womb, hm?" He says breathlessly in your ear, his grunts and groans dominating your gentle, sleep-laced moans and whimpers as he fucks you harder. "Mm...Konig. Feels so good, baby. Please...faster?" You ask, your voice shaking and still grumbly with sleep. Your eyes had barely managed to peel open, keeping them squeezed shut as if the feeling of his fat cock inside of you would leak out if you dared to open them. "You want it faster, my schatz?" He asks, his voice hiding a bit of taunt to them. "Mhmm. 'm gonna cum, please...go faster" You ask, the need for him practically dripping from your lips.

"You will cum when I say you can, yes?" He taunts. Your mouth hung open in disbelief, whimpering and tears brimming your eyes. You were so close, so close to releasing yourself all over his cock. He loved to dangle orgasms in your face, loved to see how you crumbled to a sobbing, horny, squelching mess under him as he denied you the release you so badly needed. He loved when you cried for it, tears staining your cheeks and lips going puffy as you bit them hard, trying not to cum against his wishes. What happened when you broke that rule was a story for another time...

"Such a good little schatz, listening to me so well, yeah?" He whispered in your ear, letting go of your thigh and wrapping his hand around your hips, resting on your swollen, throbbing clit. You jerk as the pad of his thick finger circles your clit, and you start to feel a familiar warmth pool in your bladder instantly. He continues sliding in and out of you, bottoming out as you take every inch, right to the damn hilt. He fucks you harder and faster, your tits bouncing and jiggling as he watches them. He chuckles lowly, grunting in your ear as he plays with your clit. "Look at you. Such a hure for me." (whore) "Letting me use you while you sleep. You like it, don't you? You like when you wake up, my cum all over your pretty little thighs, right mein liebe?" He whispers, taunting you as you feel yourself start to stumble over the edge. Your head goes hot with impatience, shaking violently because you can't hold it any fucking longer.

"P-please, Konig. 'm gonna cum. 'lease let me cum." You beg, finally peeling your eyes open to look at him. He looks down at you and smiles, leaning down and kissing your forehead. "How can I say no when you beg so fucking good for me, dear" He replies, lowering his lips to yours. Your lips part and your jaw goes slack as he quickens his pace, the swollen head of his cock relentlessly pushing into your plushy little spot, conjuring what will be one of the strongest orgasms your body has ever managed to produce. "Cum for me, baby." He breathes. Your breathing hitches as you moan and yell into the kiss, your lips open and smashed together as you both groan and moan into each other's mouths. He presses his forehead to yours, beads of sweat colliding and slicking your skins as he rubs your clit harder, fucking you like the world will meet its demise if he doesn't fuck you so deep you feel his cock in your throat. You feel the warmth from your bladder spill into your clit as you squirt all over his fingers, your juices pooling under your thigh as you yell and moan, the only time you felt compelled enough to scream. He chuckles devilishly as you cum, your soft walls violently pulsating around his dick, his hand covered in your squirt. His hand moves back to your thigh, his death grip causing your flesh to mold around his fingers as he holds it up.

You feel his cock harden and his grip around your throat tighten again as he gets close to his edge, kissing you hungrily as you shake and spasm under him. The overstimulation makes your brain go absolutely stupid on his dick. The way he kisses you borders around dangerous, his insatiable appetite only growing as he gets closer to finishing. He groans against your lips, his hips faltering as you feel his dick pulsate inside of you, spilling his hot seed all over your walls.

"Oh, scheisse. Scheisse scheisse. Du fühlst dich so verdammt gut" (You feel so damn good). He moans, his voice shaking with pure euphoria. You breathe heavily, your thighs shaking as he pulls out from you, a sickening squelch ringing out as he does so. He lands on his back, lowering your thigh gently as he heaves. His hand releases your throat, peeling your wet hair from your face, slick with sweat. You lie there, completely dumbstruck, your mind racing miles a minute and trying to recover from the utter loss of brain cells it just endured. You hear him shift to look down at your leaking, sopping pussy, praying he'd let you recover from how he had just fucked you stupid.

He shakes his head, positioning himself beside you again. "Tsk tsk, you're leaking, dear. Can't have any of my seed escape you, hm? Let me just-" You whimper as he slides his still-hard cock into you gently, feeling his cum pool in your deepest parts as he fucks his seed back into you. "Need to keep you filled up, mein schatz, yeah?" He breathes, kissing you on your cheek, flushed a deep shade of red. You nod your head at him lazily, your eyes fluttering closed once more, your body completely spent. He chuckles lowly as he kisses your face gently, covering you with the cool comforter as the smell of pure, raw sex permeates your senses.

"Sleep now, mein liebe. I can't promise I won't bother you this time." He whispers, his voice laced with a smile. "There is no rest for the wicked, dear."

3K notes · View notes

sturnsdc · 4 months ago

Text

Cake

pair: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

synopsis: a secret relationship can be hard to maintain, especially if it’s kept secret out of fear of someone.

Daryl finds himself in a dangerous situation when the truth is uncovered, and he must make a decision that will change everything.

did he make the right choice?

warnings: ANGST, typical TWD scenes, fools, violence, mentions of death, fight, abusive father is mentioned, slight fluff, somewhat obsessive behavior, happy ending, depressive thoughts (due to a breakup).

era: prison

words: 9,3k

A/N: i said i was inspired by “Cake,” but then i was also listening to the album “Silence Between Songs” by Madison Beer, and i got inspired by the songs “At Your Worst,” “Dangerous,” and “Spinnin”... so, yeah.

btw, i don’t know why, but i always end up writing some scene with Daryl’s father, and it’s always violent. I’m sorry.

dividers from: @cafekitsune ! ♡

main masterlist daryl masterlist

if both of them had to describe last night, they would say it was magnificent, even perfect. After being together for some time, they finally decided to take the next step, calmly and lovingly. Daryl felt loved in a completely different way, in a way he had never experienced before. He gave a significant part of his soul to Yn that night, and he knew she did the same.

however, when he woke up, Daryl’s thoughts shifted after a few minutes, and soon his mind started racing, filling him with doubts about his partner.

‘what if she regrets it?’

‘what if it wasn’t as good for her?’

his eyes wandered over his now-exposed scars, and he could feel his entire body tense up.

‘what if this is weird for her?’

‘what if she expected something else?’

his mind didn’t seem to want to give him peace, and Daryl began to grow more anxious with each passing second. He even felt tempted to get out of bed and get dressed, to at least avoid the embarrassment of being seen once again in one of his most vulnerable, and in his view, "disgusting" states. However, before he could act, a few kisses on his neck pulled him out of his thoughts, and as he looked down, he was met with a smile on his girlfriend’s face. That made him breathe a sigh of relief, although the doubts still lingered.

“hey, sleepyhead, how long have ya´ been awake?” the girl asked, snuggling into her boyfriend’s arms.

“jus´ a while. Ya wanna keep sleepin´?” he asked, trying to hide the trembling in his voice, caused by nervousness.

“no, but i wouldn’t mind stayin´ in bed with ya all day tho,” she confessed, still smiling, watching as her boyfriend blushed at her comment.

“gotta go home at some point,” he replied with reluctance, sighing afterward, and she nodded, feeling defeated.

“it was worth a shot,” she said, leaning in to kiss Daryl’s chest.

they stayed in bed for a few more minutes, in complete silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Yn could sense that something was wrong, the atmosphere felt a bit tense, and she swore she could hear Daryl’s thoughts forming, but nothing came out of his mouth.

“Dar,” she called out, catching his attention. He looked at her curiously. “´s everythin´ okay?”

the boy remained silent for a few seconds, considering his options, but the questions seemed louder and were all he could think about, so he decided to take a risk. He had to know the truth, even if it hurt him.

“we okay?” Yn didn’t expect that question, and she coughed, surprised and confused. “sorry, didn’t mean to—”

“we’re okay, Dar,” she replied firmly. “´s this about what happened last night?”

Daryl’s silence seemed to be the answer, and then she understood, so a small smile formed on her face. She tried to make her words sound as sweet and firm as possible, so they would reach him.

“i really loved what happened last night. Ya made me feel safe, loved, and wanted. I enjoyed every second with ya, and i would love to experience it again,” she confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed by how excited she sounded. Her face flushed at her own words.

“ya don’ regret it?” he murmured, and she quickly shook her head.

“never, i loved it,” her hand gently caressed his chest, sharing her body heat with him, relaxing him. “how did ya feel last night?”

“safe,” he answered. “ya always make me feel tha´ way, but it was different, don’ know,” he shrugged, and though his response was brief, she understood that he had enjoyed it too.

she observed him for a few moments, and out of embarrassment, he avoided her gaze.

“ya want breakfast?”

and so they ended up in the kitchen, both fully dressed now, more relaxed and finishing the breakfast they had prepared together.

“so now yer goin´ back home, right?” the girl asked, and he nodded in response. “see ya later at the lake?”

“sure, what time?” he asked, placing his now empty plate aside.

“around 3?” He nodded again, then got up to leave the dishes in the sink. “i’ll wash it, don’ worry.”

“ya sure? can help.”

“nah, i got it,” she said, so he shrugged.

she wrapped her arms around Daryl’s neck, their faces much closer now. He quickly placed his arms around her waist, and then she felt completely at peace, knowing this was where she belonged — in his arms.

they gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment, not even needing to speak. It was something they both loved, the ability to understand each other in silence, sharing the calm and love they felt for one another.

but they wanted more, so soon their lips met in a kiss full of emotions; confessions; a secret love they wanted to keep for the rest of their lives; a shared dream.

they wanted to stay like that forever, but they had to pull apart, both now with small smiles on their faces.

“see ya at 3,” Daryl said, though inside, he knew he didn’t want to leave, that he’d rather stay there, in that same position, kissing his girlfriend again.

“sure babe,” she replied, but neither made any move to leave until Daryl finally did, letting go of her and walking to the door. “bye,” she said, still smiling as she watched him walk toward the door, opening it and holding it for him.

he stepped out, but turned to look at her one last time. She leaned against the door, and they exchanged one final glance, almost unable to believe how perfect life felt with each other. He then approached her again, giving her one last kiss before leaving.

what they didn’t know was that they were being watched by someone who shouldn’t have been returning home yet but had decided to, and now felt their blood boiling at what they had just seen.

by the time Daryl was nearing his house, he began to feel that something was wrong, as if something bad was about to happen, and suddenly, a wave of dread hit him when he stood at the front door. However, he went inside anyway, and the first thing he received after closing the door was his father’s fist crashing into his cheek, sending him reeling in shock.

Daryl growled, tasting the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth, but he knew this was just the beginning.

“wha´ have i taught ya yer whole life? huh? how many times have i told ya to stay away from whores?” Daryl froze on the floor upon hearing those words, and his father took advantage of that to start kicking him with all his might, over and over. “how many times have i told ya they’re all the same?” the boy couldn’t even defend himself, as the man didn’t even let him catch his breath. “ya know how they are, and yet ya chose to be with tha´ bitch! fer what!? to hook up with ´er and be like yer brother?” he stopped kicking him after the question, but his breathing was erratic, and he was ready to hit him again.

“she’s not like tha´…” Daryl responded with difficulty, coughing up blood from his mouth, staining the floor of the house. “she’s not…”

“liar!” then the man threw himself onto his son’s body, slamming his fists into his face again and again. “yer a fucking liar! ya’ become a pussy ´cause her!” his voice was filled with disappointment and anger. “yer gonna leave that bitch.” Daryl wanted to interrupt, wanted to defend himself and yell at him. He shook his head while blood poured from his mouth and his face grew numb. “yes, yer gonna. Yer gonna leave her, or ya know i’ll kill her. Ya know i can do it.” he stopped hitting him, bringing his face close to his son’s as he spoke in a threatening tone. “yer gonna leave that whore, ya can come up with whatever excuse ya wan´, i don’t give a damn, but yer gonna leave her, and if i ever see her again…” he paused, catching his breath. “if i ever see ´er again, her head will be hangin´ on yer damn door, do-you-understand?”

Daryl remained silent, feeling powerless, afraid, sad, and in pain. So much pain.

“do you understand!?” he flinched at the shout, but then nodded, making the man finally release him, leaving him lying on the floor, bleeding and with horrible marks on his body that would take time to fade.

his father then went to grab a beer from the fridge, placing it for a moment on his bloody knuckles before opening it, all without looking at his son again, who remained on the floor.

Daryl thought about his options, though he felt dizzy, and his body was growing colder and heavier.

he knew his father was a dangerous man; he had lived under the same roof his whole life, but he didn’t remember him threatening Merle in the same way, though he knew he was capable of carrying it out.

‘she shouldn’t suffer’ was all he could think, and the fear that something might happen to her consumed him. He couldn’t let her suffer, not because of his stupid father. However, Daryl knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t let him go easily, especially if she saw the state his father had left him in, so he had to think of a way to convince her to stay away, had to do something to make her not want to come near him again.

anyway... he would probably think about it later, as his body started to feel too heavy, and his eyes closed without him being able to stop it.

the last image in his mind before losing consciousness was of his girlfriend. The only person who had respected, accepted, and loved him despite all the bad things that came with him. The only one who wanted to see the good in him, even when he couldn’t.

she had always been there, and she knew the things his father did, which was why their relationship had remained a secret all this time. Now he would have to convince her to stay away, even though their last interaction had been an immense display of love, after having shared the best night of their lives.

that day, Daryl didn’t show up at the lake as they had agreed, which worried Yn. Her first instinct was to be concerned, immediately thinking that something could have gone wrong at his house. However, Daryl had made her promise not to come near that place, no matter what, so she decided to give him some space. ‘Maybe he’ll come to my house later,’ she tried to convince herself.

that day, she didn’t see him again, and the worry kept her from sleeping all night, even though she had to go back to school the next day.

it was hard to get up for school, considering how heavy her body felt from exhaustion. However, the desire to see Daryl and make sure he was okay was much stronger, so she forced herself to get up, taking a record-breaking shower and putting on the shirt her boyfriend had left a few weeks ago, which still had his scent, giving her comfort.

when she arrived at school, she started walking through the hallways looking for her boyfriend, but there was no trace of him anywhere. The same thing happened in the classes they were supposed to have together that day.

‘where is he?’ she asked herself over and over, checking the doors and windows of every classroom and hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in the most unexpected places.

but he was nowhere to be found.

after school, she retraced their usual spots again and again, and the idea of going to his house became more and more tempting.

‘what if something happened to him?’ ‘what if his father did something?’ ‘or Merle?’ her mind wouldn’t let her rest, and the worry planted a painful weight in her chest. ‘what if he’s regretting it?’ her thoughts started to turn against her, and the anxiety began to overwhelm her even more than before.

this became her routine for a few more days, until she finally got tired of keeping that promise and decided to follow her gut. Before she could even consider it a few more times, her feet had already taken her to the entrance of the Dixon house, and she knocked on the door as calmly as she could.

she realized she wasn’t prepared when the door opened, revealing her boyfriend’s bruised face, who looked just as surprised to see her.

“wha´…?” but he didn’t finish the question, instead clearing his throat, his expression hardening instantly.

“i was worried. You hadn’t shown up, and i didn’t know if… ya were okay. Dar, what happened to ya?” she tried to approach him, her face filled with concern, but it soon turned to confusion when Daryl dodged her touch. “are you mad at me?”

“i told ya not to come here. Why couldn’t ya jus´ listen?” his tone was angry, and his gaze was cold, which caught her off guard.

“i was worried, i thought somethin´ really bad had happened, and the anxiety was killing me, ’m sorry.” she still tried to remain calm.

“ya couldn’t wait a little longer, could ya? always so damn clingy and anxious.” his venomous words struck a different kind of pain in her chest, wounding her.

“Dar, what do you mean?” she let out a nervous laugh, not understanding what was happening so suddenly.

“we had sex already, the hell ya want now?” he raised his voice, startling Yn.

“you think ’m here to have sex again?” now she sounded offended. “You disappeared fer days, Daryl! i thought somethin´ bad had happened to ya, and i held back fer days, and when i finally come to check on ya, i see yer bruised face, and i get this shitty attitude from ya. What the hell?” she waited for a response, but he stayed silent. “gonna tell me what this is all about?”

“ya shouldn’t have come,” he replied.

“cut that shit. What did i do to ya?” his evasive responses only fueled her anger and confusion.

“’m sick of this! yer so annoying. I just wanted some time fer myself, and ya weren’t supposed to come here!” he took a step forward, and she stepped back. “jus´ leave me the hell alone. Don’t wanna see yer stupid little face ´round here. ’m done with this.”

“what?” her eyes widened, and she felt frozen in place, unable to believe what she had just heard. “can i at least know what changed?” this time, her voice came out low and weak, her eyes fixed on his.

“just can’t do this anymore. I tried, but yer… too much.” before she could respond, he slammed the door in her face, leaving her standing there.

she could feel her heart breaking, and she even started to feel sick. She took a weak step forward, considering knocking again, but quickly dismissed the idea. She couldn’t bear another humiliation. Her heart couldn’t take it.

when she got home, still in shock from the recent events, it was time for dinner, but she couldn’t eat. Her stomach had completely shut down, so she decided the best thing to do was change her clothes and lie down in her bed. When she did, she didn’t even have the strength to pull the blanket over herself. Instead, she curled up in a fetal position, breathing shakily until everything hit her.

tears began to flow from her eyes, her body started to shake, and she realized how tense she was only when she tried to move her fingers, feeling the intense pain from clenching her fists tightly as she cried.

she had never felt like this before.

Daryl was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She adored the way his fangs showed every time he smiled, or the way his eyes seemed to light up whenever he looked at her. He was usually rough, but when he touched her, it felt like he did so with the utmost care, trying not to hurt her, even when he was just hugging her.

she couldn’t forget the afternoons when he watched her study for her exams, even kissing her when he got tired of congratulating her for answering correctly.

she couldn’t forget their dates at the lake, or the hunting practice in the woods.

she couldn’t forget the nights spent listening to music in his room, or the first time they both smoked.

she couldn’t forget the mornings spent watching TV while eating breakfast.

she couldn’t forget the first time he gave her flowers, telling her about their history and meaning, making it a tradition for both of them every month since that moment.

she couldn’t forget the first time she had her period, and Daryl had to learn every possible way to help her because he had promised not to let her suffer for anything.

she couldn’t forget the first time their bodies came together, sharing the most special night where she gave something she could never get back.

he had taken everything with him, including that night.

when Daryl walked back into his house that day, he ran into his father, who looked at him with the same contempt as always before sitting on the couch with another beer in hand and the TV on.

Daryl took a deep breath, trembling, and quickly locked himself in his room. That day, he felt something die inside him. He had always promised to keep her safe, that she wouldn't suffer again if he could prevent it. But he never expected that, in order to save her, he would have to hurt her himself.

the image of Yn’s face turning into an expression of pain and despair would haunt him for the rest of his days, but there was no turning back now, not anymore.

days passed, and when Yn returned to school, she looked destroyed, which caught the attention of everyone who knew her.

she was described as a kind soul, a gentle and selfless person, someone full of light despite all the crap she had been through. That’s why many were surprised when they saw her so close to the younger Dixon, someone who seemed to be the complete opposite of her. They couldn’t understand how someone like her ended up falling in love with someone like him, and many of her “friends” decided to turn their backs on her when she "didn’t understand" their warnings.

“he’s going to break your heart,” they told her over and over, but she would just frown and defend him to the end.

‘they were wrong, he wasn’t the problem,’ she thought day after day, even when her best friend tried to make her see that it wasn’t true.

setting foot on school grounds brought back a wave of sadness she had tried to avoid that morning, and soon she felt her eyes burning, eager to release the tears still stained with Daryl’s name. However, before she could turn and run home, her friend’s face appeared in her field of vision, clearly worried but ready to help.

for a while, every day was like that, and it only got worse when their eyes met in a hallway or when they had to share a class. Both had to muster the strength not to run into each other's arms and beg for forgiveness, and with every second apart, they felt a part of them breaking, unable to heal without the other’s presence.

months filled with pain, tears, and immense suffering that sometimes kept them prisoners in their beds, unable to get up and face reality. At least in their long, unhealthy hours of sleep, they could be together again.

it took Yn a year to go through the worst of it, even though she had already finished school. She couldn't even enjoy her graduation and fled the place shortly after receiving her diploma. Neither attended dances, celebrations, or events they might have at least considered if they had been together.

then it took her another year to try to piece together her heart, though the new parts weren't enough to make her feel whole, they made her feel stronger and more protected from her emotions.

during all that time, she was only able to talk to one person—Mel, her lifelong best friend—who offered her a new chance when they both applied to a university in Boston.

it was far, an opportunity to start fresh, without him.

‘sounds good, right?’ that’s what she tried to think, and that’s what led her to accept the offer and take the scholarship.

she was going to forget him completely.

well, at least that’s what she thought would happen, but every passing day, she realized how much it still affected her. At first, it was anger, and when she arrived and settled into her new home for the next five years, she was so excited about the idea of starting over that her mind decided that to maintain that peace, it would make Daryl Dixon her number one enemy. And for a few months, it worked—she regained her self-esteem and started to feel more confident in herself. But then, the first guy tried to get close to her, and that’s when everything started to fall apart.

she tried, she wanted to give each guy who seemed genuinely interested in her a chance, but she couldn’t even breathe near them without her mind searching for something in them that reminded her of what she felt with Dixon.

she grew frustrated every time she realized she didn’t feel safe with them, didn’t feel even half as loved and respected as she did with Dixon, and whenever she looked into their eyes, all she could see was either a purity she didn’t want and couldn’t accept, or a lust that made her feel disgusted and vulnerable.

they weren’t him, and that was something that made her angry.

during the three years she had spent in Boston, she never had an official relationship, and she never neglected her studies. She only made time for taking care of Madison, Mel’s daughter, who she cared for even more than her best friend did.

unfortunately, Mel gave in to the temptations of university life and let herself be swept away by momentary pleasures, having to deal with the next nine months of her second year of school while pregnant with a little girl whose father remained unknown. And when the baby was born, Mel continued her old ways, leaving Yn to raise her.

Yn tried again and again to make her see reason, especially when the baby began to speak and called her "mom" instead of her real mother. But Mel didn’t change, and even though their friendship became more distant, Yn could never leave the little girl uncared for.

however, despite everything that had happened over the last three years, when Mel suggested a weekend trip back home, she accepted almost without thinking, feeling her heartbeat quicken and something inside her light up like a flame.

so, the three of them made the trip back. But just when it seemed like they would finally make it home, things took an unexpected turn. The sick began to appear everywhere, ending the lives of many people... or not?

Yn didn’t understand anything; before her eyes, she could see death rising and walking, seeking new victims as if everything they once were vanished in seconds.

‘what the hell is happening?’

YN'S POV

Dear Diary,

a year and a half has passed, or at least i think so.

things have really changed since the last time i talked to you, about a year ago, right?

Mel 's dead.

those walkers killed her, took her from the camp we had built, and almost took Madison the same way.

now we don’t have a place to live, and we go around together, trying to survive this disaster.

i still don’t know anything about Daryl. The last time i wrote to you, I think i mentioned that i looked for him from day one. I don’t even know why. I’m still mad at him, and i don’t think i could bear to see him, but something inside me wants to know he’s alive.

damn, he hurt me, and i still care about him—it's pathetic.

but i know he was made for this world, for this. I think even if everything got worse, he’d be the last man standing on earth.

still, i haven’t tried to look for him recently. I just focus on keeping Madison safe, fed, and teaching her as much as i can.

a while ago, she started calling me “mom” permanently. I’ve tried to correct her, but she won’t stop, she keeps calling me that.

would she be happy to know i’m taking care of her? i remember how she screamed while they killed her, begging me to save her because she didn’t deserve to die—especially not Madison.

i love that little girl. I’d give anything to keep her safe.

well, there’s not much ink left in this pen, so i guess it’s time to leave you. It was a good chat. Now we’re going to check out a store we found. Hopefully, when i open this thing again, i’ll have more to say than this.

bye, i guess.

i closed the notebook gently, placing it back in my backpack, which i slung over my shoulder as i stood up from the log i’d been sitting on. Beside me, Madison looked up at me, copying my actions as she got up from her own log. I extended my hand to her, which she quickly took, following me toward the store i had seen a few hours ago. I had kept an eye on it, making sure nothing was going in or out, and nothing was moving inside.

i put her behind me. She keeps watch—she’s very smart and observant, noticing things with impressive ease since what happened with Mel. Meanwhile, i took my gun, feeling the weight of my knives, ready to be used if anything went wrong.

we searched the place, and i stuffed as much as i could into my backpack, trying to make as little noise as possible and moving as quickly as my body allowed. Then Madi gently tugged on my shirt, catching my attention. When i looked at her, she pointed to the store’s entrance, where an unknown woman, armed and looking in all directions, had just walked in.

i considered my options, but she was blocking the exit, and another woman with a sword strapped to her back was following her.

i looked back at Madi, trying to explain in sign language that she needed to hide and that i would handle it. Mel and I had learned this form of communication in college, and now it’s what keeps us safe. Madi only understands the basics, but that’s enough.

Madi took the backpack and hid, and i tried to approach the women discreetly, but eventually one of them saw me and pointed her gun at me.

“what are you doing here?” she asked rudely, narrowing her eyes as she looked me up and down. I raised both hands, still holding my gun. “Drop it,” she ordered. I raised an eyebrow but complied, tossing it to the ground and kicking it toward them. The woman with the sword picked up the weapon, and then the other one spoke again, “i asked you what you’re doing here. We’ve been watching this place for a while.”

“apparently, not long enough,” i responded. “just came for supplies. We all need to survive these days, don’t ya think?” i said in a tone bordering on sarcasm, and neither of them spoke. They just exchanged glances. Then i heard the gun’s safety click off, and the other woman made a move to draw her sword.

“are you alone?” asked the one with the sword, to which i swallowed, feeling the familiar tension in my body, along with cold sweat and shortness of breath. “are you alone!?” she asked again, more harshly.

“mama!” Madison shouted, scared by what she was seeing, then ran to me, hugging my legs. “please, no!” i closed my eyes, sighing in defeat, realizing i could no longer hide her.

that’s when i heard the gun's safety click back on, and i opened my eyes to see both women lowering their weapons and looking at us with pity.

“what’s her name?” asked the woman holding the gun, looking at Madi attentively.

“Madison,” i croaked, still afraid.

“and you?” asked the one with the sword.

“’m YN,” i answered warily. But then both women crouched to Madison’s level, smiling at her.

“i’m Maggie, and this is Michonne,” said the woman with the gun in a much sweeter tone. “we’re not gonna hurt your mom.”

“ya won’t?” Madison blinked, and i could feel her relax a bit. I looked down at her, and she raised her head to look at me, as if asking whether we could trust them.

“will ya let us go?” i asked before Maggie could answer Madi’s question.

“are you alone?” she asked, this time looking at me, but unlike before, her gaze was honest, much softer. “Do you have a group?”

“nah,” i swallowed, feeling distrust flood through me. ‘What if they’re just pretending? They could easily catch us off guard and attack, or try to take Madi.’

“we have a group. We’re staying in a prison not far from here. Let us take you both there,” Maggie said as they both stood up. “we have a doctor, food, clothes for children, and we all sleep in the cells.”

“if it’s so perfect, why ´you here?” i asked, narrowing my eyes.

“cause we wanna give those people the best. The group is getting bigger, and we need to make sure everyone is okay,” Michonne replied.

“we have a council. They’ll decide if you can stay, but i’m sure they will. They wouldn’t let you go back to this. I give you my word,” Maggie said.

“and we can leave whenever we want?”

“yes, you can go if you choose to.”

“we just need you to answer three questions,” Maggie said, and Michonne nodded.

‘I hope I won’t regret this. I just want Madison to be safe.’

we've been in this place for a couple of hours, and i’ve already lost count of the people who have tried to talk to me or meet Madi. It's overwhelming. In all this time, i had forgotten what crowds feel like, the people enchanted by children, and the panic of losing sight of a child among everyone.

an old man made sure we were fine, and the committee accepted us much faster than i expected, especially when they asked about Madi and i told them our story.

people talk about themselves very easily, and that’s how i learned who is part of the original group and who arrived later. Most of them seem to come from an enemy group.

after settling into a cell, two women came in after asking me, and they were the most interested in talking to me. One is named Carol, she’s very pleasant and knows how to interact with Madi without making her uncomfortable. The other is Olivia, and she’s spent the last few minutes non-stop telling me that one of her heroes should be back soon, and that i’ll surely love him as soon as i see him.

she hasn’t even told me his name, she just keeps talking about how much this man has done for all of them, bringing food and being “a great protector.”

Carol hasn’t said a word about him, she just smiles and tries to change the subject, asking me questions to get to know me better, but without being... overwhelming.

then the sound of a motorcycle made several people move toward the entrance, including Olivia, who murmured something about that man.

‘Is he really that incredible?’ i wondered for a moment, but soon decided to ignore it, chatting with Carol about everything and nothing at the same time as i braided Madison's hair, who was sitting with her back to me.

“Carol is in that cell, sir,” i heard someone say in the distance, so i figured my conversation with the kind woman would soon end.

“woman, hell ya doin´..." a man entered the cell, and it was then that i felt like i was the teenager from a few years ago again.

he’s standing there, right in front of us, his wide blue eyes full of surprise.

i can feel myself stop breathing, and without realizing it, i let go of Madison’s hair, who turned to look at me in confusion.

“mom?” i heard her ask me, but her voice sounds... so distant, i can’t even focus much on it.

he’s right here, alive.

he looks older, and he’s growing his hair out. I remember when he used to complain about how tired he was of cutting his hair so often and how one day he’d stop obeying his father and let it grow, like some of the band members he used to like.

he’s more tanned, probably from all the hours outside. I used to make him wear sunscreen, and he pretended not to care, but i know he listened when i talked about its importance and what could happen to his skin.

he has a beard now; it barely grew when we were last together, but he shaved because he didn’t want to irritate my skin, even though i told him it was okay.

his eyes are unmistakable, i could recognize him by them alone. I know because i could spend hours just looking into his eyes, until he blushed and turned his face away.

his body is bigger now. He used to have muscles, but nothing like he does now. He looks even better, stronger.

then my mind starts to play tricks on me. I can remember the nights he’d knock on my window, hoping to sleep beside me because only then could he have a peaceful night. I can remember the dates, our first kiss, the first song we listened to together, the first time we shared a cigarette, the first time i heard him say my name, the first time he looked at me, the first time we went shopping together, the first time he cooked for me, the first time he taught me to hunt or use his crossbow. I can remember the words of love, the times he defended me, the times he gently pulled my arm to make it clear we’d do some class project together, and the times he’d pull me by the waist so i wouldn’t leave. I remember our first time, and the love i felt when he undressed in front of me, letting me see not just the nakedness of his body but also his soul.

“mom” before returning to reality at Madison’s call, i remembered the day of the breakup. The day my world crumbled because he looked at me like i was some kind of dessert he could consume before leaving, making me feel guilty and broken for the next few years. I remembered my pain, the times i couldn’t get out of bed, the times i wished it were all just a nightmare. “Mom!” And then the image cleared.

he’s here, the same Daryl Dixon who made my life a living hell from that day on.

“we're leaving,” i whispered, almost breathless, trying to think clearly but failing as i couldn’t string words together in my head.

‘I have to get out of here.’

DARYL’S POV

since that day, nothing has been the same. I had to stop myself from running to her every time i saw her at school, and the pain was so that i even considered dropping out, getting away, and disappearing from her life.

i could see the damage. Damn, i can still hear what they used to whisper about her every day, and i remember having to punch every idiot who thought they had the right to say something bad. She doesn’t know that, of course.

every day i remember how her eyes lost their light, like i had ripped her soul out with my words.

until the last day i saw her... she could never be the same. What my old man made me do killed both of us at the same time.

i found out she moved in with Mel, and i felt happy knowing she was achieving one of her goals. Besides… her best friend was going to take care of her. She did it for two years by keeping us apart.

i had to start working, at least to get a place to sleep, though it was really a shitty home, but it was what i could afford.

there were nights i cried thinking about her. Too many to give just one example. Sometimes i didn’t even have to wait until night. She was the only good thing in my life, and he ruined it, i ruined it by not being strong enough, by not being able to protect her like i promised i would.

i still see her in my dreams. She’s older, and we live together like we always should have. We talk about starting a family, moving, getting a dog, and living in peace. The worst part is waking up.

when all this shit started, i tried to find her, but with Merle, it was too complicated, and we had to join a group.

now i try to find her in every place we go, but there are no signs.

i wanna believe she’s still alive. She’s always been strong, much stronger than she thinks. That’s one thing we’ve always been different in. She wasn’t made for this, but she’s so smart she knows how to adapt, how to make plans and stay safe. She never needed me, but she doubted herself so much that she felt safer with me.

hell, if she only knew it was me who felt safe.

most of the group doesn’t know about her, only Rick and Carol, because those bastards know how to get information out of me. But even they don’t know what she looks like because they’ve never seen the only picture i keep of us, from when everything was okay.

that’s why i felt like i was going to faint when i opened the curtain of an empty cell and found Carol, a little girl… and her inside.

i could see the expression of surprise on her face, how she went through so many emotions in seconds while the little one tried to get her attention.

“mom,” i heard the girl call her over and over again.

‘Did she have a daughter?’ ‘When?’ so many questions started flooding my head, but i tried to come back to reality when the little one raised her voice, finally pulling YN out of her thoughts, though now she had an expression of pure pain.

“we’re leaving,” i heard her say, and then panic overwhelmed me.

“no,” i quickly responded, making all three of them turn to look at me. The little girl and Carol in confusion, but her… her gaze was unreadable, like she wanted to tear my head off and cry for the rest of the day at the same time. “i mean…”

“Madison, come with me for a moment? I want to introduce you to Judith,” Carol said to the girl, who looked at YN. She just nodded, now staring at the ground and not saying a word. Carol took the little one’s hand, and they both got up and walked out of the cell. The woman gave me a supportive look before leaving.

NORMAL POV

both are trying to keep their composure, but the truth is they´re failing miserably. Still, can anyone blame them? they never believed this moment would finally come. All the situations they imagined, all the possible responses they once thought of, everything vanished the moment Daryl walked into that cell.

she couldn’t look at him, almost as if she was afraid to, and he... he couldn’t stop looking at her, fearing that if he stopped, she might disappear in front of him.

“we’re gonna leave, don’ worry,” she said in a low, trembling voice, loaded with the emotions she was trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress.

“ya don’ have to,” he replied softly. However, he received no response, so he tried again. “ya’ll be safe here, Yn…”

“shut up,” she quickly said, finally looking at him, her eyes wide and red. Hearing him say her name after so many years ignited a different flame inside her.

all the anger she had built up towards him, towards the things he said and made her feel, everything was coming back.

“we’ll be fine, we’ve always been,” she said, her voice filled with anger and frustration.

Daryl could feel the deep pain in his chest intensifying. It was as if all the worst scenarios he had imagined were coming true.

“listen, i really…”

“no,” she interrupted him, stepping back when he unconsciously took a step forward. “jus´ forget it, we’ll leave, and it’ll be easier that way.”

“don’ risk the kid over this.”

there were a few seconds of silence, and Yn’s eyes slowly filled with tears from all the overwhelming emotions.

“can’t be near ya, Daryl, i really can’t do it,” she confessed, almost whispering. “can’t be in the same place as the person who destroyed my entire world in a matter of minutes like nothin´ else mattered. You treated me like scraps of food you no longer wanted, like a piece of cake for… for your discard… and then you walked away. You know what it took to recover even a little of what you took? what it was fer to understand that ’m not just a piece of cake or somethin´ insignificant? damn it, Daryl! i can’t get back my last year of school, my graduation, the moments that should have been happy and memorable but instead were depressing, horrible, ´cause the pain was so intense i could barely stop crying. How ´you expect me to be near you when all i remember is the suffering you caused? how!?” she didn’t even realize when she started crying, but when she finished speaking, she felt her cheeks burning from the hot tears, her throat aching, her eyelashes wet, and her eyes irritated. Still, after releasing what she had been holding inside, she took a moment to think, using the silence of the man to do so.

she thought of Madison, the little girl who had been by her side just minutes ago in that place, settling into what could be a definitive, safe place full of more children of various ages, with animals and people interested in getting to know her. Then she sighed heavily, wiping away her tears and regaining her composure.

“i’ll think about staying, fer her, but please don’ come near either of us.”

Daryl couldn’t even speak; he felt he would break down in tears if he dared open his mouth. So he simply nodded slowly before turning around and leaving the cell as quickly as he could, allowing them both to catch their breath.

it definitely hadn’t gone as he had dreamed.

however, there was one detail that didn't leave Daryl's mind.

she was wearing his shirt, the one he had left at her house a couple of years ago.

weeks had passed, maybe months, and Daryl had honored her request to stay away from them, though that didn’t stop him from watching over them as best as he could. He always asked, always showed his concern, and that was something everyone in the group had noticed. But they also noticed the sadness in his eyes, different from what they had known before. Even his appearance seemed more unkempt than usual, and at times his attitude was more hostile.

Yn wasn’t much better, and her obvious avoidance of being near the archer only confirmed the group’s theories, though no one said anything. They feared losing the trust of either one.

she tried, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She would glance at him out of the corner of her eye, listen in on the conversations of the women who were in love just to learn a little more about him. Even the romantic dreams had returned, and she could tell they were affecting her when she woke up with her heart racing, as if they were still together, as if nothing had happened, only to come back to reality and feel all the frustration return, leaving her in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

now, in the current situation, we have a more dramatic scene unfolding.

Yn had gone on a supply run with Glenn, Rick, and Maggie. At first, everything was quite normal. Everyone followed Yn’s plan, as she was now in charge of planning most of the missions, sometimes joining them like today. However, there was something no one had considered this time: the structure was much older and more unstable than expected, and there were some intruders inside that weren’t visible from where they were investigating.

that’s when two walkers managed to corner the young woman. In a desperate attempt to draw one of her knives, she tripped, and one of them lunged at her, pinning her down and preventing her from using the hand with the weapon, while she desperately tried to keep its face away from her body with the other.

“help! help!” she screamed desperately, kicking and struggling to get the walker off her. But it seemed impossible. It was enormous.

her trapped arm began to go numb, and her body thrashed violently in an attempt to free herself, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

then she felt the walker stop moving, and some blood splattered on her face. Soon someone pulled the walker off her, and she saw Rick, panting. When she looked at the floor, she noticed the second walker was also down, apparently was unable to reach her because part of its clothing had gotten caught on a protruding nail in the doorframe.

“thank you,” she said, panting and still on the ground. But when she looked at Rick’s face, she noticed how it paled as he stared at her, more specifically at her abdomen. So she decided to look down too, and that’s when she noticed the new problem she was facing.

the side that had gone numb must have hit something as she fell to the ground, tearing her shirt and her skin, causing a worrying amount of blood to spill out, made worse by all the movement she had made to shake off the walker. Now she had a severe open wound, gushing blood, staining her side, leg, and the floor. It was a mess, and seeing it made the young woman start to panic.

“no, no, Rick, i can’t die, not here, not like this. I need to see Madi, i have to get to Madi, to Daryl, i…” she began to say quickly, snapping Rick out of his shock. He shouted for the others and bent down to lift her. But the abrupt movement made her whimper, feeling how the wound seemed to stretch. “Stop, stop,” she sobbed, terrified and clutching the man’s clothes, now equally stained with blood.

when the others arrived, they had similar reactions, and soon they had to head toward the car they had come in. This time, Glenn was behind the wheel, Maggie next to him, and Rick and Yn in the back seat, trying to control the bleeding.

saying that many were horrified would be an understatement. Carol felt as if her soul had left her body and quickly covered Madison’s eyes, leading her away from the entrance where the girl had been excitedly waiting for the woman’s return.

however, nothing, nothing could have prepared them for how Daryl reacted upon seeing his best friend enter with Yn, bleeding in his arms. The man turned pale and ran to find Hershel, shouting his name desperately and helping him prepare the bed where they needed to lay her down.

the woman had arrived almost unconscious but finally passed out when her back touched the sheets. That’s when the old man took over treating the wound, and Daryl, without hesitation, offered to donate whatever blood was needed to save her. This is what brought us to the current situation, just a while after Hershel left the cell to inform the others. Daryl was looking at the photo he cherished so much, until he heard small footsteps approaching, and then a small figure appeared. Her face was tear-streaked, red, and she was pouting.

Madison.

the man swallowed hard, trying to think of how to handle the situation, but nothing came to mind.

“she dead?” the little girl asked, almost whispering. She took a few steps to stand next to the man, who was sitting in a chair by the bed.

“nah, she’ll be fine,” he nodded, though it seemed like he was trying to convince himself of that too.

then the girl did something unexpected: she threw herself into the man’s arms, crying uncontrollably again. Daryl felt his heart break at the sound of her sobs, but even so, it was hard for him to return the hug. It took him a few seconds to decide, but he finally let his hand stroke the little girl’s back, trying to comfort her.

when Hershel returned, the girl had to leave for a moment, but by the time the process was finished, and Yn was resting and out of danger, no one could get Daryl or the girl to move from the side of the bed.

it wasn’t until midday the next day that Daryl managed to get the girl to go outside for some fresh air and eat a decent lunch with Carol, but he had to promise her that he would stay to watch over Yn.

it’s not like he planned to leave anyway.

however, when Yn opened her eyes, she didn’t expect to be in an unfamiliar cell, much less in a bed, with Daryl Dixon sitting right beside her, looking at her in surprise.

“i thought i told ya to stay away,” the girl said, her voice hoarse but without a hint of anger.

“’m sorry, i got scared when they brought ya and…” he stopped talking, looking at her now-bandaged side and swallowing hard.

Yn looked as well, and then all the memories started flooding back, making her sigh deeply.

“that was close,” she said, fidgeting with her hands, avoiding his gaze.

“i thought ya were goin´ to die. I felt like i was goin´ to lose my mind.”

“why?” she frowned and turned to look at him.

“´cause no matter how many years pass, Yn, i’ll keep worryin´ like the first day, even if ya don’ wan´ me around,” he confessed with a bravery he didn’t even know he had.

he saw her eyes widen for a moment before returning to normal as she cleared her throat.

“you have no right to worry about me, not after…”

“i know what i did to ya, i know what i caused, and i can’t even forgive myself fer it, but please, listen to me now,” he pleaded, making her fall silent. He was tired of this situation and was going to speak once and for all. “that day, when i came home… he had seen it, he had seen our goodbye and how we treated each other.” He swallowed but kept looking at her. “he gave me a beating that knocked the shit out of me, ´n said he was goin´ to kill ya. He said so many things… and i promised to protect ya, Yn, i swore i´d do whatever it took to keep ya safe. And i had no way of doin´ it, but then ya came to my house, and don’ know, i took the chance to push ya away, even if ya had to hate me in the process,” he confessed, feeling a weight lift off him. “i never wanted to do what i did to ya, but i’d rather protect ya, and i can’t regret that.”

“Daryl, why didn’t you talk to me? we had been seeing each other in secret for a while, we could have hidden it more, we could have pretended…”

“nah, he would have killed ya. Tha´ day he was listenin´, and he made sure we didn’t get back together. He followed ya durin´ the first year and made sure i knew… i didn’t want him to hurt ya, but to do that, i had to hurt ya myself.”

they were both silent for a few minutes, but then she couldn't take it anymore.

ignoring the protests of her body, the girl stretched out and hugged the man beside her, surprising him. However, this time he responded quickly, inhaling her scent and merging into her warmth.

they were both home.

“i can’t forgive you so easily, ´cause i can’t forget the last years of my life, but i believe in your story… and i can try,” she whispered.

“thank you.”

“mom!?” both heard the little one, who joyfully threw herself at them, earning small laughs from the adults.

“hey, little one, be careful,” Yn said, pulling away from Daryl and letting the child lie down next to her, between the two adults, as the man remained seated by the bed. “have you met Daryl, Madi?”

“we talked a bit while ya were restin´,” the man said.

“well, Daryl, this is Madison, Mel’s daughter,” Yn said, unknowingly answering a question that had been on Dixon’s mind for a while. “Madi, this is Daryl, an old friend of mine,” she said this time, not taking her eyes off the man, who was looking at her as well.

it would take time for her to forgive him and move past what she had lived through. He needed to regain her trust and show her that he was worth the risk of trying.

and he is ready for that and more. He won’t let her go again.

YN's POV

Dear Diary,

it’s been a while since i last talked to you, huh?

i think you’ll be glad to know that i kept my word, and this time i can say that things are better. Maybe better than ever.

we found a group; they’re good people with the same goal. I guess this is what it feels like to have a family.

he’s here too.

he’s alive.

for a while, i didn’t want to know anything about him, i even thought about leaving with Madi.

but i suppose it was inevitable.

he explained what really happened that day.

i can’t help but think that maybe things would have been easier if he had just told me… but i can understand why he did what he did.

still, i was upset for a while, knowing that we could’ve found a solution that would have spared us so much suffering...

anyway, now we’re in the same place, and since Madi met him, she can hardly stay away from his side. She follows him everywhere, except when he goes on supply runs. She loves him, and i understand why.

he tries every day to earn my forgiveness; he works so hard, even though i’ve already told him the truth.

i’ve already forgiven him.

still, i’m scared of how much Madison cares for Daryl. I’m scared she’ll get too attached and start calling him… you know what, or that something will happen, and i’ll have to watch her suffer.

but i guess those fears won’t go away anytime soon.

for now, i can tell you that we’re okay, safe with these people. Safe with him.

taglist: @jamiesturniolo

#sturnsdc #the walking dead #twd #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl twd #twd oneshot #the walking dead series #Spotify

134 notes · View notes