#dreams that i still holding onto and clutching it towards my chest as i'm crying. im still alive yet i havent done any of that

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.27)

Chapter 27 The sun was shining through the sheer hotel curtains which blew gently in the breeze. The room smelled lovely, the stale cigarette smell now replaced by the warm salty scent of the ocean. I was laying in bed, waiting nervously for Matty to wake up. I watched his bare chest rise and fall with his breath, his skin almost glowing in the morning light. I couldn't shake my anxiety, unsure of what was going to happen when he woke up. I took slow, deep breaths, trying to slow my racing heart.

Matty groaned in his sleep, rolling onto his back, eyes unopened- his first sign of movement since we fell asleep last night. Well, since he fell asleep last night. I, on the other hand, spent most of my night tossing and turning, my body exhausted but too anxious to properly rest.

My head lay in the crook of his shoulder- my spot. I tentatively kissed his collarbone, running my fingertips gently across his chest. He groaned again, this time his brow furrowing in my direction in sleepy confusion. His eyes squinted open and I watched as his face slowly registered my presence. His eyes shot wide open.

"Oh my god," he said in shock.

He rolled back towards me, frantically enveloping me in his arms and holding me tight. My fingers found their way around his waist and I snuggled in deeper against him.

"Oh my god," he said again in disbelief. "Oh, my god," he whispered in my ear, happiness streaking his voice now. He squeezed me tight against him, as if afraid that I might disappear.

"Hi baby," I said quietly, a little smile growing on my lips.

"I thought it was a dream," he breathed, incredulously. "Anna, what the fuck, how did you get here? Oh my god," his hands on my back travelling up and down, making certain I was in fact real and not just a dream.

I looked up at him, placing a hand on his cheek. "I promise I'm real," I said with a smile. "I missed you so much," I said, tears pooling in my eyes.

He looked at me with such love in his eyes, I felt my stomach flip flop. Then, he turned to kiss the palm of my hand, just like he always did. My heart started to glow, relief sweeping through my body. This was Matty. He was finally here. My tears began to pour, unable to hold them back any longer.

"Heyy," Matty said softly, his brow furrowing as I sobbed deeply in his arms. "No need for tears, darling. We're here. We're here together. Everything's fine now." he whispered soothingly, still a bit confused about how I was here, but confident now that we were together.

I hadn't let myself admit it until now that I'd been worried that maybe he'd stopped caring about me, maybe even stopped loving me. His distance had made me so self-conscious. It was such a relief to see him back to normal, his sober actions reassurance that he never stopped.

"Darling," Matty said gently, trying to get my attention. I couldn't stop crying. After another few minutes, he tried again, this time clutching my face lightly with his hand, stroking my cheek with his thumb. I gulped air, attempting to stop the flow of tears, only half successful as I finally looked up into his eyes, which only triggered another wave of fresh tears.

"Anna, what's wrong, my angel?" Matty said, beginning to sound concerned as I buried my face in his chest. He held me, patiently letting me cry however long I needed. I would have felt grateful if I had any room left to feel another emotion, but I was too overwhelmed to fit any more into my heart. I felt everything. I was relieved, sad, scared, happy, exhausted, angry, worried... I had felt so alone in all my feelings and pushed through them all for him, I no longer had the strength to keep pushing.

Matty ran his fingers through my hair over and over as I cried, the repetitive motion comforting. My breath slowed as I focused on his heartbeat.

I finally looked up at him, his face breaking into one of pain when he saw what must have been a pitiful sight. He briefly pulled away, only for a second to grab some Kleenex from the nightstand, then pulled me back in to dab at my tears and running nose as he waited for me to speak first.

"I can't do that again, Matty," I said, my voice shaking, piecing together my overlapping thoughts. "I can't. And what's terrifying is that I will... I will always do it, every time. Every. Single. Time. Because I love you more than... more than anything," I said as I shook my head in frustration, not caring that what I was saying didn't make sense. "I want to tell you I'll be there for you through everything, but I don't know what's more toxic- you self-destructing like that or letting myself love you as much as I do. Because at this point it feels like you could do anything and I'd still love you."

Matty looked at me, trying deeply to understand, but failing. "I'm so sorry darling, I really am. Please help me understand. Is this about my... my drinking last night? Did you... see that?" He was furrowing his brow as he looked down at my shirt, embarrassed, unable to bring up any memory of the night prior.

My heart sank. I knew he wouldn't remember last night, but it upset me anyways. It felt so unfair that I had to be the one with the burden of calling him out on this.

"Last night?" I said, my voice now angry. "Last night? Are you really going to continue this charade and act like you haven't been doing that every night since you left?" He looked heartbroken and ashamed, but I continued. "Matty, I know what you've been doing. You can't treat me as if I'm the love of your life when we're back home and then expect me to not realize what you're doing when you suddenly can't find a single spare minute to text me that you love me once happy hour starts." My body was now shaking, I couldn't stop it.

"Anna," Matty said quietly, his eyes now brimming. "You are the love of my life," he said, his face a look of distraught disbelief.

I shook my head silently, biting both my lips as my heart broke. "No..." I choked. "You can't call me that and then do that shit to yourself. You can't hurt the person I love more than I've ever loved anything before in my life and then tell me you love me..." I shivered as my anger slowly morphed into fear. I placed both my hands on his chest, and between tears, I looked up at him pleadingly. "I can't watch the love of my life break himself apart like that. I'm not strong enough to pick up your pieces." I began to sob again, hiding my face behind my hands.

He pulled me into his chest gently, resting his chin on my head and holding me as I cried.

"Anna," he said sadly, his own voice now shaking. "I can't even being to tell you how sorry I am... Sorry doesn't even begin to explain..." his own big sniff interrupted his sentence. I jumped in, unable to contain my feelings, as if someone had turned on the tap of my heart.

"Matty. I love you more than anything. It's terrifying. It's so terrifying..." I whispered as I looked up at him. He pressed his forehead into mine apologetically as I took his hand into mine, bringing it up to my mouth and pressing a kiss into his knuckles with wet shaking lips. "I'm so scared of losing you. I can't lose you..."

"You won't, Anna. I promise," he said as he interlaced his fingers with mine, bringing my hand to his heart. "I didn't realize how it would affect you. Or I didn't let myself realize it... Because it was easier to numb myself instead... like an idiot... I was selfishly thinking of my own grief." He shook his head angrily at himself, his curls brushing against my eyebrows as he did. "I needed to escape it so badly, but I didn't realize that escaping meant leaving you behind on your own. I was too focused on not feeling anything to consider how you felt," he said between shaky breaths. He clutched my hand against his chest. "I love you so much, Anna. I love you more than anything. I'll never do that to you again, I promise. I'll figure something else out, I'll do it the hard way, I don't care. Whatever it takes. All I care about is you. I love you, Anna," he whispered, pressing his forehead even harder against mine.

"I love you too, Matty. So much," I whispered back, squeezing my eyes shut as my heart burst with love. Things were finally starting to feel better, and it was such a relief.

"Not more than me. Never more than me," he said earnestly, the side of his nose now pressed against mine. "I don't deserve you. I've always known that, but I'll do whatever it takes for you."

"It won't take much," I said with a small smile, as he scoffed sarcastically in response. I ignored him. "You deserve all the love I have to give and more, Matty."

"I'll never agree with you," he said, his tone serious again as I felt his breath on my skin, his lips brushing against mine. "You deserve the world. My angel. I can't believe you're here..."

I kissed him gently, and he met me with soft lips, kissing me back sweetly, over and over. He held the back of my head tenderly, every kiss an apology and a promise. I accepted them all, forgiving one after another. My heart poured out of my chest and into his, as did his to mine, filling me up to the brim.

Our kisses grew longer and deeper, passion seeping into our mouths as our bodies grew hungry for each other. Our tongues swirled as our bodies rolled over on the bed, Matty gently pulling me on top of him as I pressed myself into him.

Suddenly my mind flashed back to last night, Matty's drunken voice echoing in my mind, "Don't hide yourself away, c'mere... I wanna take you home and fuck the shit outta you... I wanna make you feel good..."

My mouth froze as last night's residual panic surged through my body. I pulled my face away, squeezing my eyes shut in an effort to block out the memory as it bulldozed through my mental wall.

"Darling?" Matty said looking up at me, his brow creasing in concern. "What's wrong?"

I climbed off Matty, crawling to the edge of the bed and sitting down. I had forgotten how that happened last night. I placed my elbows on my knees, resting my head in my hands as I took in slow deep breaths. Matty came to my side immediately. His hands hesitated, realizing I had intentionally made space between us, then settled with placing his hand on the bed behind my back. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, worried.

"Not now... But last night..." I started, trying to stay calm in my triggered state.

"Oh god," Matty said, clasping his hand to his mouth.

I turned to reassure him quickly. "No, it was nothing really. I just got a little triggered last night and I forgot about it until now," I said. "You were... you were in such a bad state when I saw you last night so I showered you and put you to bed naked, but I was getting dressed and you said some stuff while I was naked and I felt too vulnerable and uncomfortable... The whole day had been so stressful and emotionally draining, and you were just being drunk and horny, saying things that basically any boyfriend would say to his girlfriend... I just..." I shook my head in my hands, annoyed with myself for being so fragile and hung up on trauma that felt so irrelevant to my life now.

"Anna," Matty said as he placed his hand gently on my waist and kissed my shoulder tenderly. "Sorry can't even begin..."

I interrupted him right away. "You don't need to apologize. It has nothing to do with you."

"But it does- it has everything to do with me. I know what you've been through, I know to be more delicate with that type of talk, but I put myself in a state where I could hurt you..." he shook his head. "I'll never forgive myself..."

"Really, Matty. You just called me sexy and said you wanted to have sex with me. That's not a crime- I'm your girlfriend. I'm the one who should be apologizing right now. I ruined such a beautiful moment just now..." I started to self-criticize.

"No, I'm sorry, but no, I won't let you go any further. I will not let you put yourself down for having valid emotions surrounding your trauma. I simply won't allow it," Matty said firmly, his face soft and radiating kindness.

"Hey, you're still in the dog house, mister. You're not allowed to tell me I'm wrong," I said, crossing my arms and huffing grumpily, trying to hide my smile. I forgot how seen he made me feel. It felt nice to be so deeply trusted and fought for. I was my own biggest enemy sometimes. It was comforting to have an ally. 

Matty opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. He sighed. "I think we could squabble about this for ages if we wanted to," he said, raising his eyebrows at me with a half-smile.

I couldn't help but smile back at him, "...Like you said, we're just a couple of little messes, you and me."

His smile turned into a full one at that moment, then he pressed his forehead against mine again. "I wouldn't rather be a little mess with anyone else," he said softly as he took his hand into mine.

"Me either," I whispered back as I closed my eyes. We sat there like that for a few minutes, just being with each other.

"Here. I'll be the big mess, you'll be the little one," he said with a smile as we lay back down on the bed together. He spooned me from behind, pulling me in tightly against him.

My heart rate slowed and my fingers stopped shaking as we lay there in silence just breathing together. I relaxed enough to feel like my body wasn't about to combust anymore, but I still needed to ground myself, and I had so many thoughts swirling in my head after our conversation that the room no longer felt big enough for all of them.

"I think I might go for a little walk, if that's okay," I said as I turned around in Matty's arms to face him, looking up into his warm chocolate eyes.

His brow creased. "Is everything okay?" he asked nervously, his thumb rubbing my lower back.

I nodded confidently at him, "Yes. Everything's much more than okay, actually," I smiled. "I just had a really overwhelming last 24 hours and I think I just need some fresh air and a stroll around the pool or something to declutter my mind." Matty's face didn't relax, so I raised my eyebrows with a pout before adding, "Too many thoughts for such a small girl." That made him laugh, and I joined him. It felt so good to laugh together again.

I kissed him on his nose, then on his lips, taking my time. "I promise everything's fine, just a short little walk," I said as I sat up, grabbing a bottle of painkillers that sat prominently on his nightstand and handing them to him. "You can take some of these, drink some water, wash your face and get dressed and by the time you're done I'll be at breakfast- you can meet me there?" I offered, hopefully.

Matty didn't look all that reassured, but he didn't hesitate for a second. "Alright. I'll come meet you at breakfast in a bit," he said as I pulled on a pair of jean shorts to wear with shirt I slept in. I slipped on a pair of crocs before stepping back to the bed where Matty sat upright, watching me. I knelt on the bed, Matty's wide eyes looking up at me with worry. It wasn't my intention to worry him.

"Did I tell you that on my flight here, there was an elderly couple sitting across the aisle from me?" I asked him warmly as I tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear. He shook his head, eyes locked onto mine hopefully as I continued. "They were so sweet to watch. The husband was so kind and caring to the wife, comforting her during takeoff, making her laugh, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as they gazed at each other... I couldn't watch it," I said, Matty's face falling. I lifted his chin to look up at me. "I couldn't watch it because I reminded me of us. He treated her the way you treat me. I felt like I was looking at us in the future- taking a flight somewhere for a romantic getaway, holding hands, wearing wedding bands, still sickeningly, deeply, madly in love," I said, smiling at him with hearts in my eyes. His face melted, his smile growing wide. I leaned down to kiss him and he pulled me in closer. I sunk into his touch, sighing into his mouth as I held his face in my hands.

When we parted, I stood up, adjusting my shorts as he looked up at me. 

"Maybe one day when we're old together, I'll finally stop being such a daft prick," he said hunched over with a self-patronizing sigh. 

I smiled and shook my head as I walked over to the door. "And the day you stop being one is the day I won't be interested anymore- I'm not interested in fluffy, pretty, easy love. I want the real stuff. I want you, Matty. And everything that comes with it."

Matty gave me a sheepish smile and a wave as I pulled the door open. I blew him a kiss, then let the door slowly shut behind me as I headed out the hotel, my mind swimming with the memories of my 24-hour whirlwind of a day. 

[thefangirlthatwaited]

A Genshin Impact Story - Autumn Morning (Chapter 28)

Full Chapter on A

Zhongli x Original Female Character

Last night was a fairly harsh one. I was running through the streets of Liyue but at first, I didn't know what. I just knew there was something big that was after me and I had to protect my child. I had my baby clutched to my best as it cried and I tried my best to south it as I ran. If it kept crying it would alert the monster to us. I then ducked into an alleyway in the hopes of losing my assailant but to no avail. I heard the footsteps as they began to catch up to me. My legs and chest were burning and I tried my best to push through the pain. I couldn't fall here. Not after everything, I've been through. Around turn to another alleyway and then a dead end. No, no. NO! I've been through here dozens of times growing up. There was never a wall here. 

I lay my hand on it and sense that it was recently added with Geo. Whoever was chasing me did this. It was a trap. The footsteps slow as my assailant reaches me. I suck in my breath as I turn to greet them. It was not a man but not fully a monster. From behind you would think it was a man but I was looking at him dead on and he was no human. "Morax'' I whisper as he takes a step towards me. "Please, you don't have to do this," I say, taking a step back till my back is flush with the wall. "Oh, but I do. You took something from me. It is only fair I do the same in return." I pulled my child tighter to my chest as he loomed over us. His face had black scales on the edges that connected to his chest and arms. From his head two horns that matched the dragon slit eyes he had. When he smiled I saw the fangs. His mouth hovered inches from my neck as he whispered. "You took my Gnosis from me to create this child. That means it belongs to me." "No, please." "Do not worry. I will take good care of it."

Before I could say more his fangs sank into my neck and I screamed out in pain. When he pulled away, my child was now in his arms and blood dripping from his mouth he smiled. "The people of Khaenri'ah died years ago. It is time that you join them." Then with his claws, he pushed into my chest grabbing my heart and I opened my eyes screaming and pulling away from Zhongli. I was panting while holding onto my chest where just a moment ago my heart was ripped out. "Chyou," I could hear his voice but I couldn't orient myself. "Chyou, look at me." Zhongli takes my other hand and slowly pulls me to him. "Breathe." He then takes a deep breath to show me what he meant and I copy him. Once, twice, and three times before my heart rate slowly returned to normal. "Now look at me." I didn't want to. In my mind, I still saw the creature that took my child from me so I shook my head. "Chyou, you need to look at me. I will not force you, but you need to break through this fear."

I swallow the lump in my throat before I look up. I jump back when my nightmare becomes reality. "No, no." I close my eyes, shaking my head. "I'm awake. This isn't a nightmare." "I am not the man you see in your nightmare, Chyou." He takes my hand and places it over his heart. "This heart beats for you and you only." I shake my head pulling away. "It beat for another once before." "Guizhong." I nod my head. "Guizhong is gone, Chyou. My once may have once been hers but now it only belongs to you." "Lies." I hissed. "I am not lying to you, my love." My head snaps up. He said love. "What did you call me?" "My love." I blink trying to register the word. "Love." "That is right. You are my love. I love you Chyou." This wasn't a dream nor was it a nightmare. This was my reality and in that reality, the man I love said he loved me back. The creature from my dreams would never. "You love me?" I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. "I do." I dive into his arms as he pulls me close. "I am sorry it took me this long to admit it."

Full Chapter on Ao3

[flamboyant-king]

that’s meta

[greta-van-chaos]

Telephone

Pairing | Sam Kiszka x Reader

Warnings | Some cursing, emotional towards the beginning fluffy at the end

~

Being apart was getting harder by the day. Sam had already been away five months and it was killing me. We spent most of our down time on the phone but there were days when the time change didn't allow us to talk as much. I'd stay up all night on the phone with him but within a month I was barely sleeping, spending every waking moment thinking about him. I'd keep watch of the boys social media accounts for new posts and I watched all of their interviews religiously.

"How much longer are you going to be away? I can't take this"

"I don't know" He sighs deeply into the phone and I feel tears start to well in my eyes.

"Sammy-" My voice breaks and I pull the phone away from my face to sniffle. "God, I miss you so fucking much" I try to quiet my sobs but I know he can hear me.

"Don't cry dove, as soon as we have some down time i'm catching a flight"

"Promise?" I whisper, choking back tears. He utters his end of the promise and I hesitate before speaking again, not trusting my voice. I clear my throat and try to hold myself together "How was the show tonight?"

"It was great! The crowd was amazing. This girl came backstage to get an autograph and Josh was all googly eyes over her" Sam laughs but I gulp and try to hush my negative thoughts to no prevail.

"You're not going to find someone new, are you?" I sigh, knowing I shouldn't have let the words pass my lips. Sam can have a uncharacteristically short temper whenever I question his loyalty.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Of course not."

"I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry Sammy"

"Y/n, I love you and only you. That is never going to change."

"I love you too... I just get so worried... It's not that I don't trust you-"

"It's okay dove, I'm sorry, I should go easy on you. Why don't you get some sleep and I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

"But I want to talk to you"

"We'll have plenty of time tomorrow" He says, his voice taking on an unusual tone.

I shake my head and ignore the oddity of his diction. "Okay," I let out a prolonged sigh before resuming my speech. "I'll talk to you soon" I pinch the bridge of my nose in attempt to stop my tears and close my eyes.

"Goodnight Y/n, I love you"

"I love you too Sammy"

I hear the disconnect tone and huff, shoving my phone onto the dresser without bothering to plug it in. I pull the thick comforter of our bed up to my chin and wrap my arms around a pillow as if it were Sam. Every night since he's left I've cried myself to sleep and tonight was no exception. I slowly drift off to sleep, my pillow damp and my head pounding.

~

In the middle of the night i'm awoken by clanging in the kitchen, I sit upright in bed, staying incredibly still, straining to head anymore noises from downstairs. When I hear the sound of a squeaky cupboard opening I jump out of bed and grab my phone for a flashlight. I tap the screen but nothing happens, I continue to tap in a flurry of concern clearly not remembering that I didn't plug it in. I curse under my breath and throw my phone onto the bed, hoping I'll be able to reach the landline downstairs if need be. I slip out of my room, the cold air raising goosebumps on my bare legs. I have also made a habit of only wearing Sam's shirts when I sleep. I slink down the stairs, keeping the lights off. When I enter the kitchen I see a figure and I freeze, their back is turned to me and in a panic I flick on the lights with my fist as hard as I can and let out a shrill scream. The assailant turns around and my legs go weak, falling into a kneeling position with my hands clutching each other at my chest.

"Sammy?" I squeak, my eyes becoming watery. He turns around and gives me a look that says he's been caught, I laugh. "I'm not dreaming, right?"

"No, you're not dove." He peers over the island that stands in the middle of the kitchen "Are you alright down there?" He says, a sarcastic overtone to his voice as he looks down at me.

I ignore his question and stand up on trembling legs "You're home?" I rub my eyes with my fists as I walk over to him.

"Yes, I am very much home" He laughs

I throw myself into his arms and start sobbing "I can't believe you're here, why didn't you tell me?" Our previous phone call has completely left my mind as my eyes rake over him, he's so perfect.

"I was going to surprise you in the morning. I wanted to wake up next to you and see your reaction but I ended up knocking a mug over trying to make tea."

I let out a belly laugh and pull away, taking a strand of his hair between my thumb and forefinger, twirling it "Your hair has gotten longer"

"That's what hair does, it grows" He laughs and I stick my tongue out at him. "Go back upstairs, I'll be there in a minute with some tea, seeing as you're awake I'll make you a mug too" He winks at me and I nod, obeying him and going back upstairs.

I wait for him in bed, wiggling my legs in excitement. I pull his t-shirt down and sigh as the soft material caresses my fingertips. I hear footsteps on the stairs, a smile splits my face when he walks in. He's in a t-shirt and plaid pj pants with his hair now in a bun. He hands me a cup of tea and walks around the bed, setting his own down and getting into bed.

"How long are you home for?" I ask, turning so I'm facing him.

"Two days, both of which we are spending together" He says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I'm so glad you're home" Tears start to form in my eyes again but I hold them back as I crawl into his lap. "I missed you so much, I never want you to leave me again" I whisper

"Come with me then"

I pull back to look at him, stunned "You mean on the tour?"

"Why not?" He asks, moving his hands to hold my hips.

"I-I'd love to!"

"Well it's settled then!"

Excitement creeps into every part of my body and I dive forward capturing his lips in a kiss. His fingers dig into my hips and I take the elastic out of his hair so I can card my fingers through it. I pause and take a minute to admire him, to take in every single detail of his face, his perfect lips, his beautiful doe-like eyes. I run my finger down his nose and tap the tip of it "You're beautiful" I whisper.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you"

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[mypoisonedvine]

please I need more of 40s alpha bucky becoming the winter soldier, i need to know what happens I need them to be together again I'm dying

coming right up, anon! it gets smutty under the cut... additional warnings for violence, threatened/implied noncon (very brief), angst, and also use of a syringe so needle phobics watch out

read part 1 first

"The woman... the Omega..." Bucky mumbled. "She knew me... she had my mark."

"No she didn't."

He furrowed his brow.  "She showed me..."

Pierce sighed, glancing over to the HYDRA scientist who looked back at him sternly.

"She's too dangerous to be left alive," the man sighed, shrugging in his labcoat. "We can't deprogram a bond like that."

"We'll take care of her," Pierce promised.

Bucky launched from the chair, snapping his restraints like paper. "Touch her and I'll fucking kill you!" he bellowed, tackling his handler to the ground.

Pierce just laughed as another scientist jabbed Bucky with a needle, dosing him with something strong enough to kill any other man but just enough to knock out a super soldier. Pierce stood up and dusted himself off as he watched Bucky go limp and be lifted back into his chair.

"I can see the fight in your eyes, Soldier," he taunted as he leaned in to his face. "I know you really would kill me, if you could. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, right? But don't worry about your mate, we'll make it quick and painless. Hey, maybe beforehand me and a few of the other Alphas will show her a good time, poor thing's been without her mate for 70 years... I bet she's raring to go."

Bucky's arm twitched as his eyes started to fall shut, a tear falling down his blank and motionless face.

"Wipe him," Pierce instructed to the scientist, turning and walking away as the electric whirr of the machine charging up filled the room.

//

Steve was impressed with how accurate and imminent your prediction was; HYDRA was hot on your trail and desperate to eliminate the biggest threat to their Asset. Knowing they were coming made it easier, but it was still a brutal fight.

You and Steve tried to stay together, but they were smart, they used the perfect bait to lure you away.

"Tell me where he is," you demanded from the HYDRA agent as you held a blade to his neck, "then I'll kill you."

"Isn't it supposed to be 'or I'll kill you'?" he frowned.

You shook your head. "Not the way I operate."

Opposite to the reaction you were expecting, he grinned widely. "He's here."

Your heart stopped.

"On the roof. He's here to kill you."

You dropped the knife and ran straight for the stairwell, ascending them like they were nothing and calling out for your Alpha.

You found him there, waiting, gun trained on you. Raising your hands in surrender, you yelled to him again.

"Bucky," you called across the windy roof, eyes nearly blinded by the bright afternoon sun. "Alpha."

"I'm not who you think I am," he yelled back. "I'm not your Alpha."

It hurt to hear it in his voice, but you knew it wasn't him. Cautiously, you stepped closer. "Before you left, you told me you didn't want to mark me and leave me behind," you recalled. "But I wanted it. I wanted to be bonded to you more than I'd ever wanted anything."

He could clearly see you were coming closer, he even tightened his finger over the trigger of his weapon, but he was waiting. You kept walking to him, slowly.

"I've never regretted it," you continued, "not even when I thought you were dead, not even when I had to spent a lifetime-- more than that-- apart from you."

Finally you were face to face, and you stepped closer until his gun was pressed right into your chest.

"You can shoot me now and I still won't regret it," you promised. "I love you."

Shakily, he lowered his weapon. "Omega..." he breathed.

"Your Omega."

He pulled you into him and you sobbed as you felt him come to life in your arms-- the real him, your Alpha, your Bucky. He held you close and breathed against the top of your head and it was like a dream coming true decades after you'd forced yourself to let it go.

But you'd never given up. And now you had found him again.

Agents started to come onto the roof and Bucky spun the two of you around, firing with his right hand and using the left, metal arm as a shield for you.

He carried you and you didn't even know where he was taking you, but it didn't matter. In his arms, you were home.

//

You hadn't stopped coming or crying for at least an hour. Bucky had all but split you open on his knot all night and he didn't show any signs of stopping.

He apparently intended to make up for lost time. And you'd lost a lot of time.

"Just one more, I know you can give me one more," he groaned furiously rubbing your clit as his knot began to swell again.

You could give him anything, as long as he asked for it like that.

You'd lost count of how many times he'd told you to come for him, and how many times you did it immediately.

"I can see how full you are," he whispered as he rubbed your stomach gently. "So much seed in you that your body can't hold it all."

You looked down and yep, you were distinctly bloated from his come alone; it made you a little dizzy to even look at it.

"The idea of you alone during your heats, no one to protect you, it kills me," he explained with a growl. "I won't let you go again. I can't."

"Then don't," you sighed. "Never leave this bed, fill me with everything you have."

"Did anybody ever help you through them? The heats?" he asked. "I wouldn't blame you, they can be so painful... I just need to know so I can make sure you forget about them."

"No, Bucky, never-- I never let anyone touch me."

"Steve could've helped you, at least some..."

"He wouldn't have, he loves you too much. And I wouldn't accept anything less than you, ever. You're my Alpha. We're bonded. There's never anyone else."

That didn't seem to satisfy him, his eyes darting away as he swallowed. Your gut sank with the realization he probably wasn't being totally honest about why he asked.

"Your ruts," you gasped. "Were you alone for all of them?"

He shut his lips tighter.

"Bucky, it's okay, just tell me. I was asleep for 70 years, I skipped most of them, but you... you had to live through them all."

"They gave me betas, and omegas," he mumbled, "but I don't... I don't really remember. I know they wanted me to. They threatened to hurt me if I didn't, because they knew I'd go crazy after so many ruts alone, but I can't remember if I really did it. I remember... I remember crying, and begging for you."

"Alpha," you breathed as you felt new tears run over the stains of your old ones. "It's okay. Whatever happened, it's okay now. We're together again. Everything's okay."

You wiped his tear away with your thumb, holding his face tightly, weaving your fingers into his long hair.

"I'll always be your Omega," you promised.

He leaned in closer to you, kissing your cheek before pulling back a little. "It's faded," he whispered as he ran his thumb over the mark on your neck. "The last time I saw it, it was still fresh."

"It's older, sure, but it's stronger than ever, Bucky."

//

Steve's eyes went wide when he saw you in the hall. "Surprised to see you out of the love nest so soon," he smirked.

"It's been three days, I don't think that counts as soon," you scoffed.

"It does to him," Steve frowned. "He's asleep, isn't he?"

"Yep."

"I know he wouldn't let you out of his sights if he was conscious," Steve chuckled.

At that moment, you heard Bucky call your name and run out into the hall, only a bedsheet covering his groin. You spun around and smiled when you saw him come running towards you, embracing you with his free arm.

"You should've told me you were leaving, I got scared when I woke up without you," he admitted weakly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry!"

He pulled back and clutched your face in both his hands. "I'm waking up next to you every morning for the rest of my life, you understand?"

You nodded dutifully. "Yes, Alpha."

"One hand on the sheet, please, Buck?" Steve winced, looking away.

“Whoops,” Bucky groaned, reaching to cover himself as you laughed softly.  

“Let’s go back to bed, baby,” you decided quietly, taking Bucky’s (free) hand in yours and waving goodbye to Steve, who was already making his way as far out of earshot as possible.

[redwinterroses]

hey so here's an idea for a "two best friends but one turned evil and asked the other to kill him before he went too far gone" trope (you know exactly what i'm referring to)

the first character, looking into his friends eyes, stabs him in the heart. then they both fall down and the first character is left on his knees, head down, holding onto the sword embedded into his friend's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

he doesn't touch the sword again and instead ties a ribbon around it in memory of the one he lost

you're welcome :)

- anon fierri

Not that this has been on my brain all day or anything, but... well. Okay. It has been. And then @/3lsmp posted that stuff about a zombie AU and-- well. This happened.

Yay for my first shulker box fic! (1,728 words, with mirrored/connected first and last lines)

Zombie stories don't have happy endings so... neither does this. Be warned.

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.

.

Jimmy’s waiting when Scott gets back home.

He stands in front of the door to the house they’ve been living out of, with none of his gear or weapons on him. He’s leaning against the old oak that grows next to the sidewalk, one foot perched on a root that ripples out of the ground and cracks through the old concrete. The sun is setting behind him, but the twilight shadows don’t quite hide the bloody stain that spreads from his right shoulder.

Scott’s feet come to a stop of their own accord, and he very specifically does not move his hand to the hilt of his sword. He shifts his satchel— filled with goodies he managed to find today; he discovered an entire village that hadn’t been raided yet— on his arm, its weight heavy after an afternoon of walking. He hates the wary tone in his words when he calls out:

“Jimmy?”

Jimmy, looking up to see him, gives a shrug. “Told ya this would happen,” he says, and there’s a quirk to his smile that could break other hearts.

((hard to break what’s already shattering.))

Scott swallows. “Show me.”

Jimmy pulls the collar of his shirt to the side, and Scott winces at the bloody mess that is his mangled shoulder.

“Skizz got me,” Jimmy says. “It was stupid— I should’a been faster, but… I mean, it was Skizz, ya know? He still kinda looked like himself, and I thought… I dunno what I thought. But by the time I realized he was already gone, he’d got my shoulder in his teeth and…”

((the earth is crumbling away beneath him. this is a nightmare. time to wake up now.))

((please wake up now.))

“Hey, don’t worry.” Jimmy covers the wound back up. “It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“It doesn’t— No, Jimmy that’s not the way to make me feel better.” Scott takes another step forward, his arms aching to reach out and his gut telling him to get away get away get away— He can feel his throat closing, swallowing emotions he refuses to feel.

“Look— ” Jimmy takes a step forward and Scott backpedals, half-unsheathing the blade at his hip. He hates himself for it instantly, but the instinct—

The instinct is what keeps him alive.

Jimmy just puts his hands up placatingly. “Hey, hey— I’m not that far gone yet.”

“You’re fine.” Scott tries to sound scornful, and nearly succeeds. “We’ll get you patched up and you’ll be good as new in a few days. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

With a laugh, Jimmy shakes his head. “Nice daydream,” he says. “That would be cool.”

They stand there, in a silence that shouldn’t have been awkward, for a long moment. Then, at the same time:

“Scott, you know— ”

“So I picked up a— ”

Pause.

“You go first,” Jimmy says.

((Jimmy always puts others first.))

Scott grits his teeth and forces his voice to be light and cheerful. Nothing is wrong. They’re fine. “I found canned soup!” he says. “Five cans— one’s a little rusty, but I’m sure it’s fine.”

“That’s… um. That’s good.”

Scott steps around Jimmy—

((not too close. don't get too close— no. damn you, coward, get as close as you want, there’s nothing wrong— ))

— and moves toward the house. “So…” he says, “I’ll just… start up the fire? Get dinner going? I think we’ve still got some— ”

“Scott.”

Jimmy’s voice stops him, and Scott winces. He drops his head, unable to look Jimmy in the eye.

“Don’t make me do this,” he says. His voice struggles, and his free hand goes to his throat, as if he can pull the plea from his chest. “You… you can’t make me do this. You can’t.”

((i can’t, i can’t, i can’t— ))

“You gotta.”

((too close!!))

Scott’s head snaps up, and one hand flails behind him, catching against the siding of the house. Jimmy is right there—

((danger! danger!))

But other than the tell-tale red gleam in his eye and the bloody stain on the shoulder of his shirt, Jimmy looks the same. Same golden hair, same dimple as he quirks half a sad smile, same gentle hands spread wide. Unarmed, though that won’t matter soon. He stands close enough that Scott could reach out and touch him— punch him, maybe, for being such an idiot… or wrap him in an embrace that will never let go.

“Skizz got me an hour ago,” Jimmy says, and his voice is as low as a secret. “I’ve got… what. Maybe twenty minutes? Another hour if we’re insanely lucky?”

“You’re fine,” Scott says again. But this time it comes out as a plea and not a statement.

“I’m not.” Jimmy shakes his head. His eyes shift to the side. “I… to be honest, I’m already feeling it.”

“Feeling— feeling what?” Why was he asking. What a stupid question.

And yet… yet he had to know.

Jimmy drops his hands to his sides, and they clench and unclench. Scott watches, mesmerized, his heartbeat fluttering in time with Jimmy’s hands curling into white-knuckled fists and uncurling into trembling claws.

“I can’t— I can’t describe it. It’s like I’m on fire. Only I’m drowning at the same time. Or something. And I— ” he takes a deep breath, and meets Scott’s gaze. A low growl comes into his voice, and the hands squeeze tight into hard twists of bone. “I look at you, and all I can see is how easy you’d be to kill right now.”

Scott’s sword is drawn before his denial can catch up.

((instinct keeps you alive))

Jimmy looks down at the shining blade, and finally his façade of cheerful nonchalance wavers. There’s a crack in his voice as he says, “There we go. That’s… that’s the way it’s gotta be.”

((i can’t, i can’t, i can’t— ))

And then, as if he can hear Scott’s internal scream: “I don’t— I don’t want to become like one of them. I don’t want… you to see me like that.”

Like one of them. Scott’s memories skip over images of white-eyed creatures, people he used to know, monsters with mindless hunger driving them to rip, to shred, to devour—

Jimmy wakes up crying some nights. He tries to be quiet, Scott knows, but in the single room they’ve barricaded against the darkness, every sound is magnified— and Scott's always been a light sleeper. He knows Jimmy dreams of them, dreams of blood and gore and of being left alone— or worse, of being the one to do the shredding.

He knows because he’s dreamed it too.

“I won’t let that happen,” he says, his voice firm. But there’s a tremble in the sword between them.

“You didn’t let it happen. It just… it just did, dude. That’s life.” Jimmy takes a deep breath, and with a far too gentle hand, takes hold of the sword blade and guides it to rest over his heart. “Anyway, you promised.”

.

.

.

“Right so, if I get bit, you have to take me out before I can hurt anyone.”

“Ew. What a horribly morbid things to say.”

“I’m serious! I couldn’t deal with it if I turned into one of those things and came after you or any of the others— ”

“It’s not gonna happen, so don’t be stupid about it.”

“Come on— just say it. Promise me that if I start to turn, you’ll… ya know. Kill me.”

“Jimmy— ”

“Promise me, Scott.”

“…Fine. But only if you promise the same.”

((it won’t happen. it'll be fine. they’ll be fine.))

“Of course, dude. I promise.”

.

.

.

“You promised.”

Scott’s face is wet with hot tears that he can’t feel himself crying, and he wants to drop the sword— wants to fling it away from both of them and let fate do its worst. Who cares if he dies too?

((jimmy cares. If you let him destroy you, it’ll destroy him first.))

“Damn you,” Scott whispers.

Jimmy smiles.

The sword enters his body too easily.

It slides between the ribs, the only sound the soft catch in Jimmy’s throat as the blade bites into his heart.

For a frozen instant, they both stand there, outside the house they’d claimed— the home they’d defended. Jimmy looks down at the weapon in his chest, one hand reaching toward Scott—

And he falls

((he falls and falls and falls and Scott is falling too and the sword clatters to the ground and he’s clutching at Jimmy’s face and bundling the body to himself and pawing the hair away from his eyes and Jimmy’s hand is on his and— ))

There are no final words. No poignant goodbyes, no tearful proclamations or whispered last regrets.

There is only an ending.

There is only Scott, silent and dry-eyed, kneeling on the ground under the oak with Jimmy’s lifeless hand clasped to his chest.

.

.

.

He doesn’t move, even as night falls around him—

((them))

— and the cicadas start their mournful chorus. Doesn’t stir until something rattles down the street and he dimly realizes that Jimmy would murder him if after all this, Scott went and got himself shredded by a zombie anyway.

Jimmy’s body is heavier than he expected, and yet somehow lighter than it ought to be. As if it’s missing everything that made it Jimmy. He drags it—

((him))

— inside the house and wonders what exactly he’s supposed to do now. Dig a grave, he supposes, but— where? In the yard? It seems so… anticlimactic.

((death is anticlimactic. life is the climax. death is… an afterthought.))

He leaves the sword where it fell. He can’t… he can’t bear to touch it now. Scott doesn’t believe in curses—

((yes you do yes you do you’re cursed this place is cursed and that sword is cursed and the ground where it lays is cursed and— ))

— and yet he can’t bring himself to fetch it. Someone else can find it.

He’ll dig the grave tomorrow.

Tonight… tonight he sits. Keeps watch. Hopes beyond hope that Jimmy will stir— knowing that if he does, it won’t be for any good reason. Knowing that if he does, he won’t be able to kill him a second time.

Tomorrow he’ll leave. Find a new place— far away. Sometime, maybe sooner, maybe later… he’ll find the end of his road too.

He hopes Jimmy will be waiting there, when he finally gets back home.

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter 4

Okay, y'all. I'm posting this just before I go on vacation. If you want to be added to my tag lists, send an ask. My work is not to be reposted anywhere. A big thank you to those who have proof-read this for me. I don't know what I would do without you.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: language, violence, angst. This is where it gets rough.

Chapter 3

Chapter Four

You sit up violently with a scream, clutching at your chest, but it’s not really your chest you’re worried about. You scramble for your friend, but he’s not at the edge of the cave, it’s still dark outside. You’ve probably been asleep for an hour, no more than two.

“Poe!” You call frantically. “Dameron!”

He skids back into the entrance, back into your blessed view, buckle undone on his trousers. “Hey, I’m right here. What happened?” He asks, reaching for your arms.

Your hands press shakily against his chest, desperate to feel his solid heartbeat. “I—“ you stutter.

It was just a dream.

“You’re freezing.” He comments, rubbing your arms to get you warm.

“Wh-what were you doing outside?” You ask, teeth starting to chatter as the shivering hits you.

“Taking a leak. I was just outside.” He leads you back over to the fire and drapes his jacket around your shoulders. “Here, sit in front of the fire, sweetheart. Let’s get you warm.” He builds the fire back up, and while the heat of it dances across your skin, it never goes any deeper.

He starts to stand up but you grab his wrist pleadingly. “Don’t leave me?” You whisper. He seems taken aback by the sheer desperation in your voice, so he nods and settles behind you.

“Close your eyes. I’m right here.” He says softly and you pull his arm around you, needing him close. He presses his forehead to the back of yours and you can feel his breath on your neck. You can feel your hands trembling as you clutch at his and he holds you tighter.

“Do you think,” he starts, lifting his head to speak softly into your ear. You start at the noise and turn to listen better. “Do you think Leia is sobbing uncontrollably right now because of how much she misses me?” He asks quietly and your lips pull up at the corners against your will.

“I’m sure she’s managing somehow. It’s difficult, but I think she can hold on.” You reply, shifting to lay your head back down.

“I hope so. I’d hate to be the reason she suffers so.” He says dramatically and you snort loudly before you can stop yourself. “Bless you.” He adds, his voice dripping with a grin.

“You definitely cause her to suffer.” You mutter and he squeezes your side, exactly where you hate. You squeal and squirm, trying to get away, but he grabs you and presses you flush against him.

“You’re so mean to me.” He sighs, dropping his head against your shoulder, but his nonsense worked, you feel a little better as he holds you so you can sleep.

***

Poe Dameron is…. confusing. And soft. Big giant Ewok. Ever since you woke up this morning, he’s been gentle. Cracking jokes to get you to smile, walking next to you instead of in front of you, taking your hand more often.

About mid morning, you stop for a break. Your legs don’t feel any better and you almost wish you had taken Poe up on his offer to massage them. You ease down onto a log and he hands you some food from his pack.

You close your eyes against the light, sweat trickling down the back of your neck. No matter how many times you wipe it away, more takes its place. You can see Poe in your mind’s eye, leaning against the trunk of the tree across from you, legs crossed at the ankles. You can hear him chewing on the snack he noisily unwrapped.

You can hear a strange noise, almost like a whooshing, or a whistling as something big moves through the air. You try to open your eyes to look around, but your lids won’t cooperate. You feel something swing past your ear, rustling your hair into your face. A big spiked log heading straight for Poe. You scream his name, trying to move to get to him. The spiked log flattens against the tree and you see his legs go slack. You scream, the sound ripping from your throat in anguish as you struggle against whatever is holding you in place.

“Y/N! Y/N!!” Poe’s voice reaches you. He’s shaking you roughly as you fight against his hands. It takes you a minute to realize he’s the one holding you, and another to pry your eyes open and look at him. He’s blurry, confusingly so, until you realize you’re crying. “Hey, you’re okay. I’m right here.” He says, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m right here.” The tears spill over and he brushes them away with his thumbs, searching your face. “You fell asleep on me.” He says, half a smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I don’t like it here.” You whisper, throat sore from the scream. “I don’t like it.” You shake your head, dropping it against his chest. His big hand cradles the back of your head, stroking your hair softly.

“I know. Just a couple more days and then we’ll go tell Leia that this planet won’t work.” He promises.

“Except it’s almost perfect.” You groan.

“Not if it’s doing this to you. Hey, look at me.” He says gently, guiding your head back. “Wanna leave? We’ll go back right now.”

You want to. You want to take him up on it so badly. Your hands twitch towards his, but you force them to stay still. “No. We have a mission to complete.” You mumble and he sighs.

“Alright. Just say the word, sweetheart, and we’re gone.” He assures you and you nod.

***

“Know what I would kill for right now?” He huffs, lifting you over a log.

“A more capable partner?” You mutter dully.

“Ice cream. Cold, sweet, melty, chocolate, beebleberry, denta bean.” He hums, wiping his face. “Mmm. Denta bean.” He licks his lips and your eyes are suddenly drawn to them. He’s hot. His face is flushed from sweating and so much hiking. He needs to take a break.

“Hey, hey. Poe.” You grab his arm and he spins into you abruptly. “Sit. You need water.” You tell him, pushing him down onto the ground. He pulls you into his lap with him and you can’t stop the smile that cracks through.

“Are you okay?” He asks, tucking hair behind your ear as you fumble for his canteen.

“I’m fine. I promise I won’t fall asleep this time.” You say.

“You can sleep on me any time.” He huffs. You pick up his canteen and frown.

“Drink.” You insist, holding the skein to his soft lips.

He parts them, allowing the cool liquid to flow in. His dark eyes never leave you as he drinks. After a few seconds, he captures your wrist and lowers it.

“We either need to find a safe water source, or head back to the ship.” You say after a minute. “We’re almost out of water.”

“You’re the boss.” He cracks a smile, adjusting his head against the rough bark.

“Technically, you’re the commander on this mission.” You remind him.

“Oh yeah? Well, technically, you’re smarter.” He admits shamelessly and you roll your eyes.

“Ever have fried ice cream from Corellia?” You ask, shifting to sit back next to him.

“No. Is it delicious? It sounds pointless. Wouldn’t it melt?”

“Nope. They do this thing to it that super freezes it so it only gets a little soft in its crispy shell.” The taste of it, salty and sweet ghosts across your tongue and you clamp down on the sound wanting to escape. “After this is over, we’ll go and I’ll buy you some.” You promise.

“It’s a date.” He says, dropping his hand onto your thigh in the absolute most friendly way possible, but your stomach still flip-flops in your midsection.

“You know, this is the dumbest mission ever. We’ve been sent to a planet that’s never been explored and we’re wandering around aimlessly trying to map it in just a couple days.” You groan.

“Know what I think?” He says, turning his handsome face to look at you.

“That Leia must have been desperate to get you out of her perfect hair? I just don’t see why she had to drag me down with you.” You sigh and he drops his head forward, chuckling.

“You’re so funny.” He says and then lunges, capturing you around your waist and rolling you both into the ground as you shriek. You cling to his shoulders as you land on your back, his hands cradling your head to protect it from the hard ground.

“Jerk.” You huff. Then you blink, seeming to realize just how close his face is to yours. His soft brown eyes are searching yours, his charming smile slowly fading.

Bryce’s smiling face flashes in your mind’s eye and you twist your face away with a groan. He blinks in confusion.

“You weigh a ton.” You protest and a soft chuckle skates across your cheek.

“All muscle, sweetheart.”

“Sure. If muscle here means bantha burgers.” You tease, but it’s fake. Regret settles low in your belly and you’re absolutely not sure if it’s regret at not kissing Poe, or letting it go so far. Unfortunately, Poe Dameron is literally the easiest person in the galaxy to be around.

“Maker, you’re mean when you’re—“ he cuts off and pushes himself off you.

“When I’m what?” You prompt.

“...camping.” He says finally and you know that’s not even close to what he was gonna say.

“We should keep moving. Find some water.” You mumble, pushing yourself up and gathering your things.

“Yeah. ‘Course.” He joins you once more, but this time in silence.

***

His shoulders are tense. Pulled almost all the way up to his ears. His shirt catches at his spine, bunching at the gap at his neck and sticking to the rest of him. He hasn’t spoken in over an hour and you’re terrified that he’s mad at you.

You follow dutifully behind him now, no longer next to him as you were this morning. A dozen times, you’ve opened your mouth to call his name. But then you shrink back, hiding in your own cowardice.

The image of that knife plunging into his chest slams into you full force and you squeak, mouth opening, his name on your lips before you can catch it this time.

“Sh, you hear that?” He asks, holding up his hand to stop you in your tracks.

Bubbling, the sound of a river flowing swiftly. Water. He turns to glance at you before his hand latches tightly onto yours and then he’s pulling. He drags you along, hardly able to keep up. You round the base of a tree and there it is, crystal clear, blue, fast enough to be safe. You quickly mark it on your holopad, noting the direction it’s flowing in. Poe steps forward, but you pull him back, fear twisting you.

“Let me test it first.” You say quietly, avoiding his eyes. You dig into your bag and pull out your kit, dipping it into the water at the bank’s edge. You fill a small vial and dump the tester chemicals into it. You swirl it around as they change colors and you hold it up for him.

“Is blue good?” He asks warily.

“Blue is good.” You confirm and he drops his bag, giving a loud, echoing whoop that disturbs a butterfly resting nearby. He scoops you up in his arms, pulling your bag off and swinging you around as he walks you into the freezingwater.

You shriek, holding onto him as it stings your legs. “Poe!” You protest and he laughs, sinking down to his waist, and Maker, it’s even fucking colder.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” He moans loudly, sinking in up to his shoulders. After the initial shock, you do have to admit that the cool water is lowering your body temperature considerably. You duck under the surface, holding your breath and getting your sweaty hair wet.

You come back to the surface to see him watching you. “Better than ice cream?” You ask and he tips his head back, laughing jubilantly.

“A million times better.” He agrees.

“We should refill.” You say, thinking again. You head for the shore, grabbing both of your canteens and holding them under the water. They fill to the very brim and you screw the lids back on, enjoying the heavy feel of them once again.

“Are you done?” He asks from directly behind you and you jump.

“How do you move so quietly in fucking water?” You ask, turning to face him.

“Special skill.” He says shortly, a toss away answer.

“Poe,” you start. You want to apologize for this morning, the abrupt shut out.

“Sh.” He says, applying just a little pressure to your shoulders until you sink to your knees, shivering in the frigid water. He moves behind you, tipping your head back gently until your neck is stretched as far as it’ll go.

“I’m sorry,” you start again.

“Sh.” He hushes you again, his big hands fill with water and he lets it flood your hair. The cool water instantly dispels the heat in your scalp and it feels so good. Your eyes flutter shut as he keeps doing it. He guides you to lean forward slightly as he pulls your hair out of the way. More scoops of water splash over your burning neck, sending chills down your spine.

You stare at your rippling reflection in the water, Poe behind you, taking care of you. Always fucking taking care of you.

Oh.

Oh.

Maker, you’re blind.

You blink the tears away, choosing to pretend that it’s the river water. You grab his hand awkwardly from behind you to stop him and you stand up, turning to face him.

Your best friend, probably the only person you’ve ever cared about more than yourself.

“Poe,” you breathe, your fingers curling into the front of his soaked shirt.

Why fight it?

“Y/N?”

You tug, just hard enough to let him know what you want. He moves forward, closing the distance and then your lips are on his. They’re soft, and currently immobile under yours as the shock settles in. But that’s okay. Your hands slide up to hold his face, curling around his ears. You shift, lips moving against his, and he snaps out of it, opening his mouth for you. His hands blaze a trail down to your waist as he pulls you closer, pressing you against his chest. You lick into his mouth as he moans, fingers twisting into your shirt. He kisses you harder, more urgently than you’ve ever been kissed by anyonebefore. Your fingers card through his hair, holding him as close as you can. Your heart is slamming against your ribs at the taste of him.

“Well, what do we have here? Two resistance rats.” A voice says and you jump apart, your heart coming to a dead stop in your chest.

Three StormTroopers stand on either side of the bank, blasters aimed directly at you. Poe reaches for his own blaster, but a laser pointer trained right over your heart stops him.

“Try it. Please. I’m begging you. I haven’t been so bored in ages. A little target practice would be great.” One of them snarks.

“You could probably use it, too.” Poe says before he can stop himself.

“Out.” Another one orders, waving his gun and gesturing.

Poe hesitates. He wants to fight, it’s what he does. There’s only three of them, after all. But then, you’re there, in harm’s way. You think back to your comment this morning about him getting a more capable partner. You’ve never wished for anything harder.

One of the troopers pulls the hammer back, leveling the blaster at you. Poe looks at you, gritting his teeth together before trudging to the edge of the water. You follow, hating that he’s giving up because of you, because you’re so weak. You hate that you got him caught, because you distracted him with a kiss.

And then guilt floods you as your hands are handcuffed behind your back roughly. The kiss. You wonder if it even matters now, you probably won’t make it home to tell Bryce the truth anyway.

But that doesn’t stop the guilt from filling you. You wish you had taken Poe up on his offer to leave this morning. Now you’ve gotten him caught. They nudge you in the direction of the river, downstream and Poe glances over his shoulder at you, his usually warm eyes cold.

You’re a terrible friend.

Chapter 5

Everything Tag List

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[daydreaming-in-letters]

School Prize Night

(A Good night, Mr Cavill Sequel)

Part 1 - Through my eyes

07/07/2021

Pairing: teacher!Henry Cavill x plus-size teacher!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 2,531

Warnings: rpf, body issues, self-loathing, angst, sexual innuendos, comforting, fluff, Henry being the sweetest boyfriend a (plus-size) girl could ask for

Summary: It's School Prize Night at Miss Y/L/N and Mr Cavill's school. But as she is getting ready for the event, she finds it impossible to accept her reflection in the mirror.

A/N: As I already feared, this dream of a man simply refuses to leave my thoughts. And so I used the first day of the summer holidays to come up with a four part sequel to Good night, Mr Cavill. So here is the first part. I'm afraid it has become a little angsty, but I promise to make it up to you with a lot of teasing and passion in the other parts.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

For a long time she had been wondering what to say whenever someone asked her what her special talent was. Now she knew, pinching her paunch harshly between her fingers until it formed a prominent, round bulge. Self-loathing. That’s what she was good at. A profession she had perfected over the last years.

And as if to prove her point, half the contents of her wardrobe lay scattered around her feet, mocking her with all their colourful beauty that magically turned into hideous abominations as soon as they covered her form. If she didn’t know any better, she would let herself believe that she was somehow cursed—a gorgeous princess trapped inside the body of a manatee. But sadly it wasn’t that simple and instead of an evil witch she could only blame herself for the reflection she saw in the mirror.

Giving herself another once over, she actually considered covering her eyes to spare herself the view, when thankfully her eyes seemed to have mercy on her tortured soul and salty tears began to blur her vision. Too late, as she noticed. The gears of self-hate had already started to turn and once they were in motion, nothing could stop them, pulling her deeper and deeper into the darkness.

She hardly realised that her whole body was trembling by now, her knees finally giving out underneath the weight of the world that pressed down upon her shoulders, making her sink onto the plush carpet with a heartbroken sob while the world around her fell away.

“Darling?” The familiar voice came from somewhere down the hallway, but she couldn’t hear it in the state she was in. “Do you have any idea how to tie a decent Windsor knot? I’ve watched this stupid video about a million times by now and I just can’t seem to—“

His heart almost stopped beating as he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes immediately falling onto the pitiful picture of misery that used to be his girlfriend, crumbled into a tight package in front of the mirror.

“Y/N?” But instead of an answer there just came another soul shaking sob from the huddled creature and he didn’t waste another second to get over to her. “Whatever is the matter, love?” His voice was warm and soothing as he squatted down beside her, but it was still not enough to break through to her. Desperate to find a clue as to what might have caused her distress, he took in the setting and when his eyes finally landed on the pile of clothes that surrounded her devastated form, he suddenly understood.

With a sigh he sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug before he pulled her onto his lap. “Sh, darling. Don’t cry,” he cooed, rocking her in his arms like a child. Slowly his hand drifted across her hair, as if his touch could just stroke her pain away, his lips tenderly pressing down on the crown of her head, before his cheek finally came to rest there.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do,” she croaked hoarsely, and the only thing that pained him more than the agony in her voice were her next words, “considering that you will leave me someday soon.”

He knew that it was only her insecurity speaking and yet he felt a bit slighted that she still couldn’t fully believe his feelings for her were nothing but true.

“Now why would I do that?” he muttered into her hair as calmly as he could, “I love you, Y/N, and as long as you don’t want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

Something about his words must have finally gotten through to her as he could feel the sobs die away bit by bit and he was almost positive that he would find a small smile on her face when she wriggled out of his embrace, but to his surprise he was met with a pair of defiant eyes.

“How can you be so sure of that? It’s only been three months, Hen. That’s probably just the hormones talking, and once they’re back to their normal levels, you’ll finally see the real me. And I can’t blame you if you want to run as soon as you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Hey!” he barked, his hands clutching her face in a firm grip to make her look at him. “You know how much I hate when you talk about yourself like that.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s easier to love yourself when one looks like you,” she spat and he regretted his harsh words instantly as he saw the tears that were threatening to fall again.

“Oh, no, darling. No, no, no. This is not about me and my body image, it’s about you.” He sighed again, his jaw clenching dangerously and he needed to close his eyes for a second to force his anger back down to its source. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see yourself the way I do, maybe not, but that doesn’t give you the right to question the way I feel for you. You see, just because it’s hard for you to love yourself, doesn’t mean it’s hard for me as well.”

And there they were, the tears that had been threatening to fall again, streaming down her cheeks freely now. “I’m so sorry, Hen. I should never have—“

“You bloody well shouldn’t have,” he said sternly, but then his eyes softened like they always did whenever he looked at her and he pulled her closer to press his lips to her forehead in a symbol of forgiveness.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, her head fell down onto his shoulder and she nuzzled his warm skin affectionately. “Ugh, I’m such a mess,” she mumbled, and he could feel her lips move against his skin.

“No, you’re not, darling. Like so many, you’ve been traumatised by an ideal created by the media and greedy companies, telling you to constantly chase after their standard of beauty instead of focusing on those things that truly matter.”

For a moment, a deafening silence settled between them, but he knew she simply needed a while to think about his words. And just when he could feel the uneasiness of doubt crawl from the pit of his stomach, she sighed, a deep sound of realisation that soothed his worry.

“I guess you’re right,” her muffled voice came to his ears from the crook of his neck. “You always are. Perfect idiot.”

Her little remark coaxed an amused chuckle from his chest and he could feel her body tremble in his arms from the vibration. But when his face fell upon their reflection in the mirror, the short moment of lightness suddenly died away and he wished with all his heart that just once he could give her his eyes before he would lift her around her body so she could feel what he felt whenever he looked at her. Grasp the reason why he loved her so much and why he never wanted to look at anyone else for the rest of his days. If only—

Silently he signalled it was time for them to get up and as soon as he stood, he offered her his hand and pulled her up against his chest. Colliding softly with his firm pecs, she could feel his lips brush against her ear, his deep voice causing a shiver to run across her skin.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, his hands drifting over the small of her back and down to her full cheeks, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Of course I do.”

“Then close your eyes.”

And so she did, without hesitation. Slowly she could feel his hands glide up her body again, stopping at her waist when he ordered, “Now turn around.”

His strong hands guided her as she carefully obeyed his wish again and she could feel his hot palms come to rest on her stomach, her back securely leant against his chest.

“Hold out your hands, sweetheart, palms facing upwards,” he demanded, and she wasn’t sure what exactly caused the heat to pulse through her nether regions, his hot breath that fanned across her shoulder, the authority in his voice, or the enticing combination of both. She had no idea what he was up to, but she couldn’t help the slight pang she felt when his hands suddenly left her body. He must have picked up on the little twitch of her lips before she could stop herself from pouting, judging from the triumphant chuckle that made his chest quake. Cocksure bastard.

But then she could feel his touch again, his fingers gently gliding along her forearm until his hands pushed underneath hers.

“Let me show you something, darling.” And as if the dark timbre of his voice would actually leave her a choice but to let him take over from here, his lips ghosted across the sensitive spot of her neck to ensure her compliance.

She was still trying to concentrate again when she felt something squishy and warm underneath her fingertips and it actually took her a second to realise that he had brought their joined hands to her belly. On reflex, she tried to pull away, but his grip on her tightened to hold her back.

“No,” he growled, his lips close to her ear again. “I want you to feel yourself, to try and see yourself through my eyes. Just a few minutes, that’s all I ask.” But still he didn’t proceed until he could feel her resistance melt away. “Can you feel how soft your belly is? So velvety smooth, it’s practically inviting you to touch it, to caress it, to relish in its malleability. Mmmh, so wonderfully soft,” he moaned his appreciation, making her insides tingle pleasantly.

“And here, can you feel this?” He guided her hands towards her hips, pressing her fingertips into the supple flesh. Slowly moving back and forth, she could make out the small ripples he had probably wanted her to notice. “I know you hate your stretch marks, but whoever decided to call them that probably had no idea what they truly are.” He made a short pause to emphasise his next words. “They’re tiger stripes. And you earned them all on your way to becoming the strong tigress you are. So be proud of them.”

She had wanted to protest when his lips pressed lovingly to her temple, a gesture that always made her soft for him, and her will to speak up against his sugarcoating of her flaws fizzled out.

“Mmmmmh,” he sighed again, as he lead her hands to her rear, “now let’s come to one of my favourites.” Slowly he made her hands move in circles across her behind, as if this was necessary to help her visualise the incredible magnitude of her butt. And to top it all off, the absence of her visual sense seemed to further enhance the depths of the dips and dents that coated its surface.

“It’s not only the luxurious lushness of your behind that compels me to run my hands along it as often as I can and squeeze it tightly. No.” He growled lowly again, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he made her fingers dig into her cheeks and this time she found it impossible to hold back a moan. “I wish you could see the way it jiggles and quivers with every thrust of my hips when I take you from behind. It’s magnificent.”

“Oh God, Henry,” she mewled when she could feel the treacherous wetness pool between her legs, soaking her panties in an instant. She wanted to pull away again, but this time to spin around and press her body against his while her lips devoured his filthy mouth before it could drive her completely insane with need. And yet again, Henry was stronger, securing her in her current position for just a little longer.

“I see you’re starting to get the point of this whole exercise. Good for you, darling.”

“Henry, please,” his teasing made her whine, as it always did, and she almost missed how he hooked her fingers underneath the straps of her bra to peel away the obstructive lace.

“Sh, don’t fuss. This is the best part, I promise.”

And with that he closed her hands around her voluptuous breasts, massaging them tenderly. “Did I promise too much? This really is the good stuff, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever held anything as fluffy as these two delights in my hands. I still remember the way they moved to the rhythm of our lovemaking that first night. So enchanting. But you know what is even better?” he asked, his head dipping down to nuzzle her neck yearningly. “To rest my head upon your chest after we both came undone. I love to be embedded by this softness while I can listen to your heartbeat. There is something so utterly bewitching about witnessing how it slowly calms down after I made you touch the sky.”

Without thinking twice her eyes flew open, just in time to catch a glimpse of all the affection his heart held for her as it reflected so openly in his blue eyes.

“Oh Hen!” And finally he didn’t hold her back when she tried to spin around, cupping his stubbly cheeks gently in her hands. “I love you so much.”

And without giving him the chance to answer, her lips found his, moving with them until she didn’t know anymore where she ended and he began. Her head still spinning slightly, she broke away, their heavy pants the only noise that filled the silence for a while.

“And I love you.” A beaming smile curled his lips, passing on to hers while it slowly set her on fire. “Even the parts you despise. Maybe I love them the most. And I will not stop loving them for the both of us until you can love them too.”

She didn’t know what she could have possibly replied to that. He was right, it was still a long way to go. There would always be difficult times. After all, self-love wasn’t a permanent state she would be in for good once it was reached. She rather saw it as a concept, an idea she would possibly never reach in her life, but at least she could count on him to be there and help her see through his eyes whenever she was struggling.

“Now, can I make a suggestion regarding your outfit?” he derailed her train of thought. “Take the white summer dress with the pink peonies I love so much. You know how great your ass looks in that, don’t you?” He smirked while, once again, his fingers dug into her behind.

“So you keep telling me, Hen.”

“Because it’s true.” His lips briefly brushed over the tip of her nose. “And it will remind me all night long of all the things I’m going to do to you as soon as we get back here.”

Part 2

***

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[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | ONE

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 2,725

warnings: thoughts of suicide! unsuccessful attempt! depression, grief, angst

18+!!! minors stay away! TRIGGER WARNING.

Nothing made sense anymore. The world was upside down, all messed up, and you were hanging by a thread. How could it have been a year since the incident? How could you be okay with being older than her now?

Grief is something that nobody expects to be easy, but you never expected it to be quite so hard. Every day people promised that tomorrow would be better, but it never was. It never got better. It never got easier. You were fairly sure it never would, because if it still hurt this bad after thirteen months, twenty-two days, and six hours, how could one more hour, day, month, or year bring any sort of respite?

It couldn't. It wouldn't. Sometimes you wondered if this was your punishment. Maybe you felt this way because you deserved to, because you had earned a life time of suffering when you let her die. Sure, big sisters are supposed to look out for little sisters, but at the cost of their life? That couldn't go unpunished.

Every day was the same since she died. Wake up, wish you hadn't, feel everything and nothing all at once, and go to sleep. It was a strange and horrible existence; people weren't meant to feel so many big things at the same time. The guilt, the shame, the anguish, the longing... it consumed every part of you like a black hole until you were left with nothing. Until you felt nothing, thought nothing, you were nothing.

They were all the same until today. It was your birthday, your eighteenth birthday to be exact, and for once that ever present black hole in your chest was gone. Instead of waking up to the constant weight of all those heavy emotions on your shoulders, you woke up with the familiar numb emptiness you felt at the end of every day.

There weren't words to describe how much that terrified you. Every single day since your sister died, you'd wished endlessly for those painful feelings to go away. You'd begged for relief, for peace, and you'd taken solace in the hollow of the evenings. Waking up already vacant and listless did not bring the comfort you dreamed of.

You were officially older than her. You'd finally reached that first milestone she'd never reach, and the thought of it punched a hole in your chest so large you wondered if there was anything left of you at all. It wasn't fair--how could you celebrate the big ticket birthday she'd yearned for so anxiously? You couldn't.

You didn't deserve to celebrate. You didn't deserve to achieve all those goals she never had the chance to. You didn't deserve to live through all the years, experiences, moments that she never would. You didn't deserve to live.

It was all your fault, after all. It was your fault that she was there that day, it was your fault she lingered behind, and it was your fault she died. If you'd just gone shopping like she'd asked instead of insisting on going to the park, she'd still be here. If you hadn't frozen like an idiot, she'd still be here.

With a mind swimming with all the reasons everything would be better if you just weren't around anymore, you snuck out of your bedroom window. It was finally dark outside; you'd managed to make it through the day for your parents. But, with the day over, you couldn't hold on any longer.

The letter you'd written for your parents to find was tucked under your pillow, and with one final glance around the bedroom you used to share with your sister, you made peace with your life. This was for the best. Everyone would be so much better off if it had been you instead of her, and now you were going to make things right. It wouldn't bring her back, but at least you wouldn't be there as a reminder of what should have been.

As ready as you were, you didn't really have a plan. There were a million possibilities as far as how you could execute your desires, but none of them seemed right. It had to be fast, though, and something that didn't require much work. If it took effort, conscious thought and execution, you wouldn't follow through. You'd learned that the last time.

That was how you ended up on the roof of one of the more swanky apartment complexes. It was a tall building, taller than those surrounding it, and a fall from that height would surely do the trick. Strangely, the moment your feet dangled over the ledge with your bottom firmly planted in place, your mind went blank.

All those thoughts of the stress and pain you caused went silent, and you finally could breathe. With a deep exhale, your body relaxed for the first time since the incident; you didn't feel any of the bad things anymore. There was no pain, no grief, no sadness, nor were there any of those empty or numb feelings. You just felt peace.

The peace was short lived as you looked down to the street far below, though. This was it, this was the end, and suddenly your mind was racing with all the what if's. What if it could get better? What if it didn't work? What if this made everything worse? What if this was a mistake?

What if, what if, what if, "Whatever, just shut up." you gasped, clutching your head in your hands to keep it from spinning. "Get it together, (Y/N), this is the right thing to do."

Pulling out the letter you'd written to your sister, you opened it and cried for the first time in months. You'd long ago stopped crying; despite how many horrible things you'd been feeling, the tears just never came. But reading the words you'd written to her, thinking of her as you came to terms with your decision to join her, it was as if a metaphorical flood gate opened.

Thirteen months, twenty-two days, and seven hours. You couldn't wait any longer. You couldn't do it, do anything, anymore; you just needed to rest. The clock was running out, and your time was up.

"You can do this." you whispered, "For once in your life, do something right."

With shaky hands and weak knees, you scrambled up onto your feet and stood atop the ledge. You weren't that tall, but somehow the new perspective made the drop look so much longer and your stomach heaved with fright. Sobbing, you stumbled back to your knees and threw up the little bit of cake you'd forced yourself to eat earlier that evening.

You wiped the sick from your mouth and stood up again, this time with panting gasps for air and knees that shook so violently you feared you might fall before you were ready to. Maybe that would have been for the best, though, because the longer you looked down the more doubts you had. No one would ever know it was an accident if that were the case.

A sudden noise behind you startled you, and your heart seized in your chest as your knees gave out and you tipped dangerously over the edge. You didn't fall, though, because a sticky substance latched around your arm and dragged you back over until you were laying on the roof. For a moment you just laid there, staring up at the empty sky where the stars were all drowned out by the city lights, and you tried hard to figure out what had just happened.

"Are you okay? Oh--oh my god, are you hurt? What were you thinking? Shit, oh shit, Karen, what do I do?" A masked head leaned over your face, blocking the starless sky from your view, and all the feelings came flooding back like a tsunami. "Um, can you hear me?"

One feeling stood out against the current, and your body tensed as you were overcome with seething, white hot rage. An anger like you'd never felt before; you were furious. How dare he stop you? How dare he ruin everything?

It was Spiderman, the friendly neighborhood hero who'd been gallivanting around Queens for some time now, and that made you even angrier. Spiderman was one of them, one of the ridiculous superheroes who'd killed your sister without a single care in the world. He was one of them, and he'd just stopped you from finally fixing everything they had ruined.

You stood so fast you nearly threw up again, but you swallowed the bile down and hissed, "You should have let me fall. I wanted to fall."

Spiderman pulled you back with a firm grip on the web that was still wrapped around your arm, stopping you in your tracks as you stomped back toward the ledge. "Hey, stop! I'm not going to let you do this." he shouted, but his voice was more nervous than commanding.

"Get out of here, Spiderman. You're not saving the day by stopping me, okay?" you snapped fiercely. No matter how hard you pulled against the webbing holding you back, you couldn't break free. It didn't budge when you pulled at it, clawed at it, or even pried it. "What the hell is this shit?"

He pulled you in further, and you stumbled over your feet as you tried to keep your distance. "I'm not going to let you do this. You don't need to do this." he repeated, this time more firmly.

For a moment you were silent, studying the masked hero as he stared back at you with a hidden face. "You don't even know me. Why do you care?" you tried again, but your voice was softer, more fragile. The numbness was creeping back in again and you knew that you wouldn't be able to follow through anymore, even if he let you go.

"I do know you, (Y/N), and you don't need to do this. We can--I can help you. Let me help you."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. How the hell did he know your name? Did you know him? Even though your mind was running wild with unanswered questions, you seethed, "You can't help me. Unless you can go back in time and kill me instead of my sister, you can't fucking help me."

The eyes of his mask widened at your shout, and he stammered, "I--no, I can't do that, but I can help you. I can be your friend, you... you can talk to me. I know what it's like to lose someone, (Y/N)."

You scoffed, "Do you know what it's like to watch a family member die right in front of you? Do you know what it's like to see someone get killed, and it's all your fault? You can't help me!"

"I do, actually." he stated.

Your entire body slumped at the revelation, the anger leaving you as the numbness finally took over completely. It was silent for a few long moments as you cried noiselessly, the only sounds being those of your still frantic breathing and the bustling traffic far below. "If you know, then you know why I have to do it." you whimpered.

Spiderman dropped the web keeping you in place as you collapsed onto your butt, your legs too weak to support you anymore from exhaustion. "I know why you think you have to, but I also know why you're wrong. This isn't the answer." he responded, tentatively taking a few steps closer to you.

You didn't respond, looking up at him as you wiped your cheeks and nose weakly, and he took the chance to continue, "I'm going to make you a deal. I'm going to take my mask off and show you who I am. If you still want to do it after, fine, but at least you'll know who will be blaming themselves afterwards."

True to his word, his fingers creeped under the edge of his mask as he stared you down intensely. Your breath faltered as you watched, completely still as you realized he was serious. Spiderman was going to reveal his identity to you, and you knew that once he did it was game over. As much as you felt the world would be better off without you, you couldn't bare the thought of leaving someone behind to feel the way that you did.

So, stubbornly, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly and refused to look. "I'll wait here all night if I have to. Besides, I could just say my name, you know. I'm pretty sure you know me too."

"Don't." you pleaded.

"Open your eyes, (Y/N). You want this, right? Knowing who I am shouldn't change anything, then." he urged, his tone soft despite his harsh words. "It's Peter. Peter Parker. I've sat behind you in at least two classes since freshman year, and I've lent you pencils before. You always give them back, and you always let Flash copy your homework even though he's a total dick to you. You--"

Your eyes snapped open as you cut him off, "Stop! Just because you know things about me doesn't mean you know me."

It really was Peter Parker, and the numbness faded a little to make room for anxiety and guilt. You knew Peter had lost too much in his life; his parents and his uncle, too. Could you add your name to that list? Could you jump when you knew he'd blame himself for the rest of his life?

You couldn't. You wouldn't. Peter's brown eyes were filled with worry and sadness as he studied you, his mask clutched tightly in his fist. When you remained silent, he sat down and spoke quietly, "I know enough to know the world would suck without you. I could be your friend, you know, you don't have to do this alone."

"I don't need friends." you huffed.

Peter frowned briefly, before rubbing his nose and hiding it again. "I did just tell you my biggest secret, (Y/N), so I think we kind of have to be friends now." he finally rebutted, a faint twinge of humor in his voice, "You might not want friends, but you do need one. I'll be your friend."

You stared back at Peter blankly, uncaring as he shifted uncomfortably in your silence. Why did he want to be your friend? He already got what he wanted. You weren't going to go through with your plan, and he wouldn't have to live with guilt like you did every day. So, why was he still here?

Part of you wanted to believe he really cared, because he seemed to pay a lot of attention to you to notice the little things you did, but you knew better. He didn't really care about you. He only cared that you knew his secret and now you had leverage over him. You could out him if you wanted to, and that meant he had to keep tabs on you.

"I don't need friends." you repeated stiffly, "Don't worry, Parker. Your secret is safe with me."

His eyes widened as he stammered, "That's not--"

"Save it, Peter. Can you please just get this shit off of me so I can go home? I want to go to bed." you cut him off with a deep sigh, gesturing to the web that was still hanging from your arm.

He looked like he wanted to argue, to further plead his case, but after a few moments he visibly wilted and gave in. "It'll dissolve in two hours. I'll... I'll see you at school, (Y/N)."

It was a statement, but it sounded more like a question. You knew he was still hesitant to let you out of his sight, fearful that you'd go back on your word and follow through, and this was his way of confirming you wouldn't do just that. Achingly stretching up off the ground, you muttered, "Yeah. Bye, Peter."

Peter tugged his mask back over his head, but didn't make any move to leave until you were opening the door that lead back into the building. As you stepped through the threshold he gave a forlorn wave, before jumping over the ledge and swinging away. The door shut behind you as the weight of the world settled on your shoulders once again. You'd failed, like always.

[mothandpidgeon]

THE SINS OF THE FATHER - a Molly York story PART 2

(gif by @pajamasecrets)

PROLOGUE - PART 1

MASTERLIST

Characters: Dave York, Molly York (Carol and Alice, too)

Words: 3500

Rating: T

Warnings: character death (canon), loss of a parent, angst, training your daughter to be an assassin?

Summary: After contacting a mysterious acquaintance of her later father's, Molly York learns more about the man. And about his death.

a/n: I'm a little obsessed with this fic right now. I love writing soft!Dave and his daughter. I know this isn't the mean daddy Dave smut we usually love, but I'd love to hear from you if you're enjoying this!

Thanks @purplepascal042 for helping me with this part! Love you, B!

/ / / / /

Dave is exhausted from jet lag, sprawled on the bed, still in his shirt and slacks. The last job took a lot out of him. He needs a shower but his body won’t budge.

“Daddy are you sleeping?” Molly asks from the doorway in a stage whisper.

“What’s going on?”

“Will you help me with my homework?” she asks. She’s clutching a worksheet and a pencil.

“Sure. Come here,” he says and she climbs onto the bed beside him. “What’ve we got?”

“I have to interview a grown up about their job. For Career Day,” she explains.

Dave looks over the page, his tired eyes barely focusing. “Did you ask Mommy to do this?”

“I want you to do it,” Molly insists.

He lets Molly read him each prompt and he answers as simply as possible. She dutifully writes down each answer in scrawling pencil.

“How do you spell ‘investigation?’” she asks.

“Sound it out,” he encourages. He’s so burnt, he’s not sure he can manage to spell it either.

“‘What is your favorite part about your job?’” she reads.

Dave sighs longer than he means to. “Coming home to my family.”

“No, Daddy! It has to be about work!”

The address Capra had given Molly was a boarded up movie theater off the highway about 30 miles outside of DC. Molly told Carol that she was shopping for dorm decor when she’d left the house full of nerves. She’d gotten so good at lying, sometimes she believed her own.

The parking lot was empty, the cracks in its pavement filled in with grass, punctuated by street lights every few yards. Molly had expected to meet at a coffee shop or a restaurant, not some out of the way place. She was sitting on the trunk of her car, her leg bouncing, when a black BMW pulled up. The woman driving it looked to be in her late 40s, her hair pulled back neatly. When she stepped out of her car, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose and eyed Molly up and down.

“How old are you now? 20?”

“18,” Molly told her.

“You’re the older one?”

“Yeah,” Molly said.

Capra approached her and she hopped down from the bumper.

“Didn’t your dad ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” she asked.

Molly hesitated. She had her pepper spray in her back pocket and she was much younger, probably quicker than this woman. But Dad wouldn’t give her Capra’s number if he didn’t trust her. Still, Molly decided to lean against her car and keep her distance.

“You know a lot about me for a stranger,” Molly replied.

Capra grinned. She nodded her head back and said, “Walk with me.”

Molly paced the pavement with her, glancing at the woman beside her. She was slim with sharp features, whispers of frown lines in her face. Capra offered Molly a cigarette which she declined.

“Is Capra your first name?”

“It’s what my friends call me,” she replied.

There was a darkness in her tone that made Molly edgy.

“Did you work with my dad at the agency?” Molly asked.

That would explain some things. But Capra laughed.

“No.” Capra observed Molly and then her lip twitched up into a wistful smile. “Jeez I bet everybody tells you you look just like him.”

Molly’s stomach churned.

“Were you and my dad-”

“No,” Capra said. “God no. Your dad was...a complicated guy but not when it came to his family.”

Molly nodded, not sure if she felt relieved or if that just gave her more questions.

“So how did you know each other?” She asked.

“It’s a long story,” Capra said, scratching her forehead. “We did some freelance work together.”

Capra made some small talk, asking Molly where she was headed for college, what she’d be studying. Molly had so many questions of her own she could only manage short answers. Finally, she had to ask the question that had been nagging at her the loudest.

“Do you know what happened to my dad? How he died?” She’d stopped walking.

“I know the same as you,” Capra said.

“Which is?” Molly asked. She wasn’t going to accept such a vague answer.

Capra gave a wry smile. She flicked her cigarette butt to the ground and twisted it into the pavement under her shoe. Molly’s heart sped up. She’d caught Capra in a lie.

“You’re a clever one,” she said.

“It wasn’t an accident, was it?” Molly asked. She searched Capra’s face for an answer. “Please.”

“I wasn’t there,” she replied.

“But you know. Please. I need to know.”

Molly felt like she was holding her breath. Capra looked away, then back at Molly.

“You don’t want to know,” Capra said.

“I do,” Molly said. She balled her hands into fists so she didn’t shake Capra by her shoulders.

“He wouldn’t want you to know.”

“How do you know that?” Molly spat. “What the hell do you know about him? I’ve never even heard of you. You don’t know.”

“Trust me, there’s plenty about your father you didn’t know,” Capra snapped back.

Molly was so frustrated she wanted to cry. Instead she let out a growl and turned back towards her car.

“Fuck this!” She stomped away.

She’d crossed half of the parking lot when she heard Capra call after her. Molly squared her shoulders, tried to compose herself, and turned around to glare at the woman. Capra was clutching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut. Finally she dropped her hand with an exasperated sigh and pulled out another cigarette. Capra lit it as she closed the distance between them, blowing smoke out of her mouth and shaking her head. She held the cigarette out to Molly.

“You’re going to want one of these. And you’re going to need to sit down for this.”

Dave parks the car in the driveway. Molly is sitting in the passenger seat, still grinning from her first experience at the shooting range.

“Now remember,” Dave says before he opens the door, “this is our secret. So if Mom asks where we were, just tell her our cover story.”

She nods eagerly but then her lips twist into a thoughtful frown.

“It’s lying,” she says.

Dave feels guilty for a moment. Deceit is practically second nature for him but what kind of father teaches his daughter to be dishonest?

“But it’s a white lie,” she justifies to herself. “Right?”

Dave kisses the crown of her head.

“It’s alright, baby. Everybody has secrets.”

Molly felt dizzy. The story Capra told her made her feel like she’d gone from a tilt-a-whirl into a funhouse. Everything was distorted and she was upside down. Already, she was replaying her memories of Dad with this new context tinging them like a dark filter.

Dad kissing her on the forehead before bed. Hoisting her onto his shoulders on the 4th of July. Singing along to “Baba O’Riley” and drumming on the steering wheel. Dad killing people. Earning blood money. Dying by someone else’s hand.

“It’s a lot,” Capra said. They were sitting in Molly’s parked car, the windows rolled down, the sound of the highway traffic washing through like white noise. “But he did it for you.”

Molly’s eyes flicked to her. She hadn't asked for anybody to die.

“He was trying to take care of his family,” Capra clarified.

She let Molly sit in silence for a while as she sorted out what she’d just heard. Molly felt like she was grieving him all over again. Except this time she mourned the father she knew.

“My mom-"

“She never knew,” Capra said.

Molly nodded weakly.

“It was a secret because he loved you.”

Molly felt a tear slip from her eye. She didn’t want to feel hurt. She didn’t like feeling deceived. She wiped her face and set her jaw.

“What happened to Mac?” she asked.

She remembered meeting the man who had killed her father. Everything that had happened just before he died was so clear in her memory. She could still see Mac’s face, his friendly smile.

He’d seemed like such a nice guy. She remembered asking him a load of questions as he rode with them to school and he’d laughed and told Carol what a bright girl she was.

It sickened her to know he’d been right there. So close. And she was so small and clueless. Had Dad known what was coming?

“He lives up in New England,” Capra said. “Retired.”

Molly turned to Capra, anger burning in her chest.

“He’s still alive?” she asked.

“Afraid so,” Capra said.

Molly looked back out the windshield, took a deep breath. Retired. Dad would never get to retire. Go golfing or build model cars or whatever old men did.

“And you do...what my dad did?” she asked.

Capra didn’t confirm or deny it.

“You can’t discuss this. With anyone,” she informed her.

Molly nodded again. She wouldn’t dream of telling Carol this. She would protect her from the truth just like dad had.

“I’m sorry about this,” Capra said before they parted ways. “You’ve got my number. Give me a call if you ever need anything.”

As Molly drove home, thoughts solidified in her mind.

Dad was a killer. But he’d been a killer before, in the Marines. He’d still loved her. He went to her karate matches and read her bedtime stories. She might have lived her whole life without ever finding out what Dave York really was.

If he hadn’t died.

He could have taught her how to drive. Taken photos before senior prom. Visited colleges with her.

He would have danced with her at her wedding. Helped her fix up her first home. Held her future children in his arms.

If he hadn’t been murdered.

And what about mom? She wouldn’t have worried about calling plumbers and taking her car to the mechanic. Run herself ragged getting Alice to dance class and Molly to archery competitions. She wouldn't have had to sleep alone every night.

If it hadn’t been for Robert McCall.

Molly could absolve her father’s sins. But Mac she would never forgive.

“Young lady, open this door right now,” Dave barks.

“You told me to go to my room! I’m in my room!” Molly snaps through her bedroom door.

She’s given Carol lip all morning and he’s had enough of the attitude. Every day, his sweet little girl is fading more and more into a stubborn teenager.

“You do not slam doors in this house.”

“Leave me alone!” Molly yells. “I hate you!”

Dave knows that she’s angry and she’s got a bad temper. That these outbursts are the first signs of puberty rearing its ugly head. But, still, her words punch him right in the gut.

“If that’s how you’re going to speak to your father, then you’re grounded,” he manages.

“Good!”

Molly had been reserved ever since Dave’s death but, after meeting Capra, she felt her melancholy harden into bitterness. She went through college. She didn’t make a lot of friends or date many people. She studied, she practiced her marksmanship, she trained.

As soon as Molly turned 18, she was back at the gun range. It had been a long time since Dad had taken her for target practice but she was pleasantly surprised by her grouping. She’d had a good teacher.

She liked everything about shooting. Not just because it had been a secret she shared with her father. She liked the ritual– loading the magazine, carefully picking up the gun. She liked the focus– taking a deep breath and looking down the barrel. She liked the power.

Mac’s grin stayed fixed in her mind. She thought about it when she pulled herself from bed at five in the morning to do push ups. She pictured it when she worked herself into a sweat at the gym’s punching bag. She imagined it when she put holes through the head of the target at the shooting range.

She didn’t think she’d have the chance to do that in real life. But she dreamed about it almost every night.

Molly had always stayed close to home but she visited less and less. Alice started college in New York so Carol had an empty nest. Molly could hardly bring herself to visit her mother anymore.

Molly had always been good at keeping secrets but this one was the most difficult. Every time she saw Carol, Molly imagined how devastated she would be if she knew the truth. It had become too painful pretending and so Molly simply avoided most situations where she would have to.

Capra stayed in touch, calling every so often to check in. It was clear to Molly that she felt responsible for this angst but there was no one else to talk to about it.

Some people were driven by ambition or lust or creativity. During college, it felt like Molly ran on anger. It helped her concentrate, to work hard. She graduated at the top of her class and had no trouble landing a job that paid well.

Adulthood was different.

Dave had been wise enough to set up trusts for the girls so Molly hadn’t racked up student debt. But now she had rent and bills and car insurance. She couldn’t stuff herself with fries from the dining hall and call that a meal. She had to work long hours for a demanding boss. She had to take care of herself. She had to go through the monotony of life.

When it came down to it, she just didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore.

Molly still held a flame inside. Mainly, she kicked herself for not getting to the gym more often. She hated that she was moving on. She had dulled as she got older, as she followed the news every day and saw that the world was a shitty place where justice was scarce.

Molly was in her childhood bedroom, going through layers of old school papers, polaroids from her friends’ bat mitzvahs, and certificates from karate tournaments like an archeological dig.

Carol was finally selling the family home. Downsizing. The girls were there to help clean things out, decide what should go to the Salvation Army and what would be going home with them.

It pained Molly to think about the house with another family living inside it. Even now in her late twenties, she still walked in the door and expected Dad to come around the corner from the kitchen, to say, “Hey, kiddo!” the way he used to. Once the house was sold, she would never experience that sensation again.

It was strange, Molly thought, how you could live somewhere for all of your life and then, one day, you’re locked out forever.

Carol was moving to a two bedroom condo closer to the city so she couldn’t take all of this junk with her. Molly packed a bankers box with some trophies and a few of her favorite books and brought it down to the kitchen.

Alice was leaned against the island, lazily sorting through cookbooks. Although the day called for packing boxes and hauling trash bags, she was dressed to the nines. Molly wondered if her sister owned casual clothes anymore. Alice had gotten a job at a fashion magazine and, although it seemed like she was low in the pecking order, she acted as though she was Anna Wintour herself.

“That’s all you’re taking?” Carol asked, eyeing the box.

Molly shrugged. She already had already taken the things that were most precious to her long ago.

“You know, Mom, if you don’t want to move, I can help you with the mortgage,” Molly said.

Molly had been saving up to buy a place of her own but she would happily give that up for her mother. Nowhere would ever feel like home the way this house did.

“It’s time,” Carol said. “I don’t need this much house to myself.”

Mom didn’t look her age but the bags under her eyes had grown more defined. She’d stopped coloring the streak of grey hair that had come in at her temple.

“It’s a good idea,” Alice jumped in. “Mom needs to get out there again. She hasn’t met any guys in the suburbs.”

The idea of Mom dating always made Molly bristle. She didn’t want Carol to be lonely but couldn’t picture her with a man who wasn’t Dad. The same way she couldn’t see her living in a different house.

“I’m going to work on the study,” Molly said and retreated to the home office.

This had been Dad’s room and, even though it had accumulated a mess of things over the years— old workout tapes, discarded hobbies, books about tidying— it still felt like his sanctuary. Molly picked through a shelf and found Dad’s high school yearbook. She hoped Mom wouldn’t mind if she took that home with her. She liked pictures of her father in his youth, skinny and bright eyed with scruffy hair.

Molly sat on the floor in front of the built-ins and fished out a few baskets and shoe boxes from the cabinets. The first one contained family photos. Vacation in the Bahamas, Alice’s 4th birthday party, Molly dressed as a ninja for Halloween. She went through each one with great ceremony. Molly already had a bunch of photos of her and Dad so she tucked these back in their box and put them in the ‘keep’ pile.

The next box was filled with cards. Sympathy cards. Molly sighed as she went into them. One from Carol’s coworkers with a rose on the front. Sending you comfort. A small card that looked like it had come with a floral arrangement from cousin John. He’ll be missed.

There was a card with a painting of a serene beach scene. With deepest sympathy. Molly opened it and read the short message.

So sorry for your loss. It feels like we’ve lost one of the family. Send my love to the girls. - Mac

The cold rage that had burnt out reignited in Molly’s stomach, her entire body so tight she almost shook. She could feel tears sting in her eyes.

That motherfucker. That fucking asshole had the audacity to send a sympathy card. To send his love. That piece of fucking shit. Molly almost crumpled the card in her hands, as if she could wring his neck through it, but just then Alice wandered in. Molly dropped the card into her lap.

“What are these?” her sister asked, crouching down and grabbing a photo. “Aw! You looked so cute!”

Molly swallowed hard and tried to slow her heart rate as Alice sifted through the pictures.

“Christ, why does Mom still have these?” Alice complained, picking up one of the sympathy cards.

“They’re for Dad,” Molly said.

“It’s not like he got to read them,” Alice replied.

She tossed it back onto the floor.

“Why are you always such a bitch about Dad?” Molly asked, the animosity she’d discovered in Mac’s card spilling out of her.

“Sorry I don’t worship him.” Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s not like he was ever around. And when he was, he spent all of his time with you.”

Alice crossed her arms and looked away self-consciously. Molly felt a jab in her heart. She knew Dad loved Alice. He’d done awful things so that she could take dance lessons and go off to a good school where she could study whatever she liked. Things that eventually got him killed. But Molly couldn’t tell her sister any of that so she just stared at Alice with her mouth half open.

“Girls, when you’re finished up there, lunch is ready!” Mom called from the kitchen.

“Call me a bitch…” Alice grumbled as she left the room.

Molly pushed the cards into the ‘Trash’ pile.

“Ow! Daddy! Molly hit me!” Alice whines.

“You hit me first!” Molly growls.

Dave glances at them in the rear view mirror.

“Is that true?” he asks.

“No!” Alice says.

He knows she’s lying. Molly’s sitting there with her arms crossed as Alice clutches her elbow dramatically, lips set in a pout.

He knows what he’s supposed to say. Some bullshit about being the bigger person, two wrongs don’t make a right. And if Carol was in the car maybe he would. But the world doesn’t work like that.

“If you hit somebody,” he warns, “don’t be surprised if they hit you back.”

Molly took Mac’s card with her. It was sitting on her passenger seat when she pulled away, Carol standing on the lawn, waving. Send my love to the girls. Every time she thought about it, she got so pissed off she wanted to puke.

She couldn’t even wait to get home before she was dialing Capra, one hand gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles ached.

“What’s up, kid?” Capra asked.

“I need to find Mac.”

/ / / / / part three soon!

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[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 05 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (04)

Next part (06) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22 , who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Touch

You're right back into the dark spot you were. If it wasn't for Carol, you'd be in bed all day, completely lost. She keeps you moving. She helps you shower, chattering even though you don't answer. She helps you get downstairs, allowing you to do something for lunch or dinner. Carol's patience is unbelievable. You wonder when she'll get tired of you too. When she'll leave, with rude words and no further explanation.

Being here without Daryl is weird. Unusual. You didn't know the exact place he occupied in your heart, but now it's pretty clear. But you don't know how it happened. You thought this constant necessity of being with him came from the situation. From the safety he provided. When he's next to you in bed, your head on his chest, you know he won't let anything hurt you. Not even the nightmares had that power anymore, the bad memories are just that. Memories. But now... Daryl is more than a hero to you. He's something else entirely. He's the only one you'll ever want to have this close. The only man you'll ever want to hug, to lean on, to hold next to you during the night.

But what's the use of such acknowledgment now? Daryl left. He literally ran from your touch, from you. And of course he did. You came into his life, a broken, vulnerable thing, needing him so desperately. Of course he'd only endure you for a while. Now, he's done with that and whatever you feel doesn't matter. It's over.

“(Y/N), honey?” Carol calls, coming to sit beside you on the couch. Judith left half an hour ago, but still, you didn't move. You just stood there, drowning in the new, stupid feelings you just found out. “Don't cry, sweetie.”

“It's been six days.” You whisper, a hand on your heart. “He left because of me. I-I pushed him into going who knows where.”

“Daryl didn't go because of you. He went because of himself.” Carol takes a deep breath, talking low. She's always scared you'll slide back into the walls you built around you, so she's always careful. “He's complicated. He's been raised to believe nobody wants or cares for him, or...” When her voice fades, you look up, meeting her eyes. “Or love him.”

This makes you giggle, humorlessly. “What? He's... He's amazing. He's kind and smart, and strong, and handsome, Daryl is... Daryl is honest. And noble. How can he think people won't care for him?” The words flow out, too fast, because it's absurd to hear Carol saying that. It sounds like a joke. “You can't expect me to believe Daryl doesn't see all that.”

Carol's lips break into a smile, you don't get why. “He doesn't.”

“Then I'll make him see.” The same moment the words come out, you remember that he left. That he rejected you. “Well, I...”

“You have feelings for him, don't you? This isn't just about him saving you. There's something else.”

Fixing the blanket around your shoulders, you don't even try to dry off the tears. There will be others to take their place. “It doesn't matter, he...” You've been rejected before. You've had a crush on guys who didn't like you back. But this... This actually hurts. Hurts more than the wounds that still mark your body. “Y-you didn't see it. It's like... He doesn't even want to touch me and when he comes back I'll make sure he won't have to keep helping me.” You're sobbing by the end of the sentence, your body shaking as you cry.

You know you'll be lost without him, never able to feel like that again. The sensation he brought you is unexplainable. Irreplaceable. No man will ever make you feel that way, but that's not his fault. Maybe it's yours. Maybe it's nobody's fault. Everything you know is that you won't let anyone get this close ever again.

“Alright, honey. It's alright.” Carol hugs you, holding you tight as you cry on her shoulder. “Trust me when I say Daryl has very strong feelings for you too. He's just not very good at showing it.”

“Don't.” You mutter. “You can't say these things just to make me feel better, I know he doesn't.”

“Listen, honey. Listen.” She pulls away, drying off some of your tears with her thumbs. “Daryl is scared of how he feels towards you. Believe me, I know him.” Refusing to believe her, to have any kind of hope, you shake your head no. “The reason why he's running from it is that he thinks you can do better. You're young, beautiful, and sweet. He doesn't think he deserves you.”

“Why would he think that? Is he stupid or something?” You manage to say in between sobs, hugging Carol again.

“He can be stupid sometimes, yes.” She rubbs your back. “He will be back and I'm sure you'll get this right. Both of you.”

You don't answer, you just stay there, crying.

More days go by, and you only know he's alright because Rick has a radio, and he talks to Michonne daily, so everyone knows they're both alright.

The only thing that keeps you moving is little Judith. You also got to meet some of the other kids, since Carol decided to bring them here to play with Judith. You love having them around, it makes you forget about things for a while. Carol even introduced you to Melanie, a pregnant woman, and she also starts hanging out at your house, making you her official babysitter. She got here a few months ago, already pregnant. She used to go scavenging before, and that's what she wants to do for this community when her child is born, and she trusts you to be with them while she's away. Knowing you might have something useful to do makes you feel better. Makes you feel like you have something to offer and being with the kids is amazing.

But, eventually, everything comes crashing down, mostly at night, when you lie down all alone, surrounded by darkness. You often dream of Daryl. He's back, with you, not pushing you away. But when the morning comes, his usual place in the bed is still empty.

As the sun sets, you have Judith on your lap, her head on your chest. She's calming down after crying for her father. It took a long time to make her settle down, and now you're trying to make her sleep a little. Rubbing her back, you keep singing the only lullaby you can come up with. “Lavender's green, dilly, dilly, lavender's blue. If you love me, dilly, dilly, I will love you. I love to dance, dilly, dilly, I love to–” You're cut short by the door being open. Terror creeps over as you look up, and the fear is replaced by a mix of so many feelings you can't even name.

Daryl stands there, his eyes locked on yours and despite the distance, you can see the amazing, breathtaking shade of blue that makes your heart beat faster. You hold onto Judith when she moves a little, but she soon settles down again. But your eyes are focused on Daryl, and as much as you want to look away, you can't. It's stronger than you.

“Y-you're alive.” You stutter, holding back the tears. It's been two weeks. Too long, it felt like endless months. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” He simply says. “I'll... Shower. ‘M covered with walker's blood.”

“Ok.” He finally moves, going upstairs and you can finally breathe.

Daryl is back. He's right here and everything you want is to jump in his arms. But you can't. He doesn't want to have anything to do with you. He's done with taking care of you. You have to keep a distance.

You're trying to calm down, focusing on humming the lullaby to keep Judith in her peaceful sleep, trying not to think about Daryl, up there, under the same roof. You try not to think about his arms, always so warm and gentle around you.

“(Y/N).” Carol gets your attention, and you see her coming downstairs, being followed by Daryl. “Let me take Judith to see her dad.”

“Sure.” You burst out, watching as she picks Judith up, careful not to wake her up. “And you two need to talk so I'll stay at Rick's for a while.” She says in a low voice, giving Daryl a look.

You're frozen as she moves to the door, not wanting to risk look at Daryl and burst into tears.

You wanted him back, of course you did, but now, you don't know what to do. You're too scared of your feelings, of what you might do.

“I-I'll head upstairs.” Grabbing the clutch Denise got you, you stumble to your feet.

“We need ta’ talk,” Daryl says, but you ignore him, struggling with the clutch in a way you never did before.

“No, we're-we're fine. I'm fine.” You succeed to climb the first step, but on the second one, you move the wounded leg before you move the clutch, and this added to the whole situation makes you lose your balance and crash down. Luckily, your weight falls on the good leg, but that doesn't mean your body won't complain. A groan leaves your lips, and you feel Daryl's arms pulling you.

“(Y/N), be–”

“Don't touch me!” It's useless now. You're crying, your heart is broken and you can't take it. You can't control it. “Y-you don't like it when I touch you so don't touch me!”

“What the hell makes ya think I don't like when ya touch me?!” Daryl suddenly yells, his voice matching yours. He seems to regret it though, his eyes softening. “What... Who told ya that?”

“I don't need anyone to tell me anything. I'm not stupid.” It comes out in between the sobs as you sit down on the steps, throwing the clutch away. “You don't need to take care of me anymore! I... I'll get better and you won't have to think about me anymore. I can deal with the pain, the fear the nightmares! I can! If you don't want me anymore it's fine!” You yell at the top of your lungs, not proud of the way you're breaking down. But what can you do? Your heart is broken.

“I ain't–”

“You don't have to go in a hell of a long run to be away from me! I can just find another house to live in and get the hell out of your way if that's what you want and I'm so damn sorry I need you so much, Daryl. I'm so damn sorry I like you, or-or–” You lose your train of thought, sobbing uncontrollably, looking at the floor because you can't bring yourself to face Daryl now.

“Ya got it all wrong.” He mutters, coming to sit on the stairs, but you move back, pushing yourself against the wall. If you get any closer to him, you'll fail. You'll hug and hold and kiss him.

“Stop it, Daryl! I know you're tired of me so j-just stay away if that's what you want.” The tears soak your face, and you have your eyes closed as if it could hide you from him.

“Ya got it all wrong. Ya shouldn't want ta’ touch me or be around me. Yer so... pretty n’ young n’ good, ya shouldn't want ta’ touch me or be around me. I don't deserve to be with someone like ya n’ yer stupid ta’ want to be around me.” He yells back, raising his voice above yours, but despite the hint of anger, you don't feel scared. But you do need time to take in what he's saying. What he means. “Yer too young. M’ jus’ an old, dirty redneck and I don't... I went out so ya could have some time ta’ get over this. Ta’ not want me close anymore.”

“What are you saying, you idiot.” You stutter, playing back everything he said. “You can't decide what I should or shouldn't want! You have to decide what you want and I'll decide what I want and if these two things come together, then we work from there.” You move a little, the sting on your leg making you uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, you finally regain some control of yourself, but the tears just keep coming. “I just need to know i-if you don't want... If you don't want me. Me touching you, or hugging you because if that's what you want, it's ok, I'll... I'll stay away.” It hurts to tell him this, and you're terrified of what he'll say next. If that's what he wants... What are you going to do?

“I shouldn't–”

“This is not about what you should, it's about what you want!” You burst out, tired of the argument. You just need to know what is and what isn't, so you can decide what to do next. “You were gone for two goddamn weeks, killing walkers and being in constant danger so just tell me what you want.”

“I want ya.” It comes out like a grunt, too fast and low, and it makes you wonder if you got it right. Daryl looks down, his shaggy hair hiding his eyes. You don't understand why he's so... Scared. Why he thinks so low of himself when you can only see the good, the great man he is. The very best.

“T-then don't push me away. Just... Just stay.” Lowering you're voice until it's barely a whisper, you dry some tears away. “I-I mean, I know that going out there it's your thing, I didn't mean it as you gotta stay here, I just mean it like... With me, you know? Go on runs, but stay with me. D-don't leave me. Well, do leave if that's what you want but not because you think I shouldn't be around you.” It sounds confusing, and you hope he gets it because you don't think you can explain it better.

“M’ sorry.” He mumbles, and this time, when he sits beside you on the step, you allow yourself to hug him, too desperately, feeling more tears coming. “ ‘S alright, babygirl. M’ sorry.”

Without saying anything, you surrender into his embrace, thankful for having him back after so long. Not even the noise coming from the front door makes you pull away.

“I see you two got along,” Carol says, sounding relieved. “You should just be straight forward with each other. It'll save both of you a lot of trouble.” When you hear her coming closer, you raise your head just a little bit to look at her. “(Y/N), why don't you let me help you with showering. There's still sand on your hair. Then you and Daryl can lie down to rest.”

You don't want to let go of him yet, but Carol is right. “Sand?”

“I was with the kids on that playground and little Mike threw a handful of sand at Judith but he hit me instead.” You explain it, using the wall to help you up. But Daryl is quick to assist you.

“So yer takin’ care of the kids? And outside?”

“Well, Carol was with me the whole time and it was only half an hour or so.” You let him carry you upstairs, not saying anything about it. Walking is a lot easier now, but you appreciate the gesture. “But I'm like the babysitter now. I really like it.”

“Bet ya do. I heard ya singing for Lil’ Ass Kicker.”

Your cheeks start burning. You had no idea he was listening. “Yeah...” Daryl leaves you in the bathroom and Carol comes soon after.

Showering is less painful now since you can manage to stand up long enough to clean yourself. But washing your hair is still a challenge, and that's why Carol is here. As she washes the sand away, she tells you of her daughter Sofia. About how she got lost and how Daryl restlessly searched for her. And the sad ending of that story. Everyone at the end of the world has a sad story to tell.

Once you're free of the sand and dry, you put your clothes on. You can't find any of your lycra shorts, so you stick with the tank top and panties before going to bed. It's very cold tonight, so you grab another blanket before lying down. You're just about to wonder if Daryl will come when he opens the door, and a smile immediately spreads through your lips.

“Hi.” Trying not to sound too excited, you mutter. It's hard to keep your eyes open, sleep threatening to overcome you.

Daryl grunts something you don't understand, taking off his jacket and leaving it on the dresser. You already moved to the side, giving him space. He pulls the blankets away before lying down, and you giggle to see how he tries not to move the mattress too much. Once he's settled down, you turn on your side, facing away from him, getting comfortable. You wait for him to do the same, but he doesn't move. By the time you had him sleeping here, you know he sleeps on his side. Not like this, staring at the ceiling.

“Are you comfortable?” You ask, eyes already closed.

“Yeah.”

“Uhm...” Turning around just a little bit, you grab Daryl's arm, pulling it until he's on his side, letting his hand fall on your waist.

“The hell ya doin’?” He mutters.

“Just letting you I want you to hug me. So if you want it too... You can.”

Daryl stays motionless for a while until you feel as he fixes his position. You're glad he won't see your smile, the happiness spreading through your face. Getting the hint, you carefully push yourself back a little, closer to him. His hand brushes on your thigh, and he abruptly moves it away, startling you. Your heart sinks a little, wondering if he'll fall back into whatever he was before.

“What?” Your voice is weak, making it clear you're scared.

“What are ya wearing?”

Oh. You didn't think it would be an issue. “Underwear.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. “All my shorts are dirty so I didn't have anything else.”

“Ya shouldn't be dressed like that when ya have a man on yer bed.” The words come out too fast and a little confusing.

“Daryl, I feel completely fine being here with you. Even though I'm in panties.” Being honest, you decide to let your heart out. This will be easier if you just say things straight forward, as Carol said you should. “And...” Searching for his hand under the blankets, you slowly bring it to the top of your thigh. The sensation of his fingers on your skin is warm, despite his fingertips still being cold. “I want you to know that you can touch me. I don't mind.” You whisper, eyes closing to take in the feeling of his touch a little better. “Actually, you're... You're the only man I'll ever want to touch me.” Maybe it's the sleep, pushing these words out. Maybe it's the long time you had Daryl away, thinking he was done with you. You don't know. The words came out and there's no way to take them back. And you don't want to. It's the truth.

He doesn't say anything, he doesn't move. Not for a while. You're about to ask him to say something, anything, when you feel his hand moving. Slowly, very slowly, his thumb starts caressing your skin. It burns in a good way. His hand then slides down, gently, from the top of your thigh to your knee. You feel like he's testing it, not sure why. Maybe he thinks you'll just give up the idea, be suddenly disgusted by his touch. But that's so far from the truth.

“That's nice.” You decide to say, giving voice to what you're feeling, so he'll know.

“Huh.” He sounds like he doesn't believe you.

“It is.” To reassure him, you move even closer, until your back is pressed against his chest. “Believe me.”

“Alright then.” He removes his hand, but it comes to embrace your waist, his grip firm around you, holding you close to his body. “Go to sleep now, babygirl.”

“Good night, D.”

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd @browneyes528

[itsadamcole]

arranged - pt.2

fem!reader x drew mcintyre

reader and Drew go to America for reader’s surprises ...

word count: 5.5k+

warnings: prince!drew, just a lil bit angsty, definitely more fluff than part 1, smut :)

— and here’s part 2. enjoy —

part 1 || masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

You and Drew land in Orlando. It's late January, and a huge temperature difference. It feels more like summer in Florida than it does in Scotland, where it's super cold right now.

A smile hasn't left your lips since you took off, and you're excited to see Candice.

Speaking of Candice, she waits by baggage for you. When you see her, you drop Drew's hand and your things before running over to her. You hug her tight and she says, "Okay, okay. Relax, princess. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too," you say, looking at her. "I haven't seen you since the wedding."

Candice laughs and says, "It wasn't that long ago." She looks at Drew. "Your husband has gotten handsomer since I last saw him."

You giggle and say, "It hasn't been that long, Candice."

She smiles and says, "So, anyway. Come on. The trainers and doctors want to give you a full physical at Full Sail to make sure you're cleared to be in the match this week on NXT."

Smiling, you say, "Sounds great." You look back at Drew. "Ready?"

He nods and says, "Of course."

Candice drives you both to Full Sail University, where NXT is broadcasted from. She asks questions about what married life is like, how Scotland is, and how it's been over there since you married Drew.

It's a short drive to Full Sail from the airport so she doesn't get to many questions in.

During the physical, the doctors and trainers make sure your in tiptop shape to compete. You've lost some muscle mass since you haven't trained in months but it's not that big of a deal. They do the whole work up.

After you've been medically cleared to compete, Hall of Famer Triple H finds you. He says, "Y/N, welcome to Full Sail. We're very happy to have you here as part of our roster in NXT, even though it's for a short amount of time."

You smile and say, "Thank you, Mr. H."

He hands you a black leather folder and says, "Inside, you'll find a part time NXT contract that will have you as part of the NXT roster for six months. Your husband says that after six months, you will no longer be able to compete. As a part timer, you're slotted to be in three matches, one match every two months."

Your eyes widen and you look at Drew before you say, "I thought this was a one match deal."

"I pulled some strings," Drew says before winning at you.

Triple H says, "As of right now, your matches will be against Candice this Wednesday at NXT, a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: London in two months, and a match against an opponent of your choice at Takeover: Glasgow in four and a half months."

Your jaw almost hits the floor and you say, "Takeover matches? Like, actual pay-per-view matches."

Everyone in the room laughs and Triple H says, "We wanted to make your last few matches memorable ones. I've spoken with William Regal about this and he's on board. Are you?"

Quickly, you read over the contract and sign it. "I'm on board," you say.

"Welcome to NXT, Y/N," Triple H says, holding out his hand.

You shake his hand and smile. "Thank you for this opportunity," you say.

He smiles and walks off. You look at Drew and he has a huge smile on his face.

"I haven't seen ya so happy about something before," he says.

You smile back at your husband and you say, "I'm living my dream because of you, Drew. Thank you."

Drew says, "I just got us here. Yer talent is the reason yer living yer dream."

"You've never seen me in the ring before," you say, giggling.

Your husband says, "I get t'see ya in the ring on Wednesday."

You smile and shake you head, leaving to go to the hotel to get some sleep so you can train all day tomorrow before Wednesday.

***

Wednesday gets here too quickly. You've brought your old gear with you to wrestle in. It's definitely more revealing than you remember.

You stand in your little dressing room and look in the mirror at yourself.

The shorts got tighter and shorter, and the crop top now tightly hugs your chest. Your cleavage is very exposed and you hope to God that you don't have a wardrobe malfunction while in the ring.

Now that you're the princess of Scotland, you have a lot to be conscious about.

Someone knocks on your door as you're tying up your boots. "It's me," Candice says. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you say.

The door opens and Candice walks in. She smiles when she sees you in your gear. "Damn, you looked good in the gear then and you look good now," she says. "Anyway, I was thinking. I want to cut a promo before our match tonight. Just a short one. I'll say how a princess shouldn't be in the ring with someone like me and we can go from there."

You nod and finish lacing up your boots. "Sounds good," you say. "I'm assuming that my signing has been a secret?"

Candice nods and says, "Yeah. Drew's being kept out of the crowd until our slot so it doesn't give it away too early that you're here."

Someone calls your name and Candice's name. It's time.

"I've never been so ready to get back in a ring," you say. "Ever since I left, it's been marriage and princess lessons. I'm ready to wrestle again."

Candice smiles as the two of you walk to the backstage area. "You better be," she says.

Several NXT superstars are in the backstage area. The Undisputed Era, Finn Balor, Io Shirai, Timothy Thatcher, Tommaso Ciampa, Rhea Ripley, Johnny Gargano, Indi Hartwell, and Shotzi Blackheart just to name a few.

You stretch out as you wait for your music to hit.

It's been too long since you felt this rush of adrenaline. Before every match and every promo for Ring of Honor, you'd feel a rush of adrenaline to get you pumped up. You last felt this in your last ROH match a few months ago. It's been too damn long.

Candice's music hits and she walks out. You listen to what she says carefully.

"Rumor has it we're in the presence of royalty tonight," Candice says. "Apparently some princess signed with us a few days ago? That's the rumor anyway. I don't think she even deserves to be in an NXT ring."

That's when you're handed a microphone before your music, I Like It Heavy by Halestorm, hits. Of course it's a clean version of the song because this is WWE but it's fine. You're making your entrance for the first time in months.

The crowd loses it as you walk toward the ring in your sparkly red and black gear. You step into the ring.

The music fades out and you're face to face with Candice. She smirks and asks, "Oh, did I hit a nerve, princess?"

You hold your microphone up and say, "I don't deserve to be in an NXT ring?" You scoff. "Please, Candice. I've fought to be here."

Candice says, "You're Scotland's princess. That's the only reason you're here."

These comments are hitting you hard, but you fight through.

"Listen here," you say. "I am a NWA Women's World Champion, a two-time NWA Women's World Tag Team Chanpion, and Impact Knockouts Champion. I deserve to be in this ring for my talent, not by my title."

Candice says, "Then let's go. You're dressed. I'm dressed. Let's get a referee out here."

The crowd cheers and you yell "bring it" into the microphone before throwing it down.

The match begins shortly after. You have Candice in a headlock and you're trying to bring her down onto her knees. She pushes you off of her into the ropes. You bounce off and hit her with a clothesline.

You say, "Oh, look. The princess is the only one still standing."

The crowd laughs and Candice hits the mat before getting up. You're locked in a grapple with her a few seconds later. After a bit of struggling, Candice knees you in the stomach. You cry out and clutch your stomach, falling to your knees. She hits you with a running knee to the jaw, and you sell it well. You fall into your back, knees bent with your feet beneath you.

Candice pulls at your hair to get you up, and the ref warns her of the hair. She says, "Get out of my ring."

You snarl, "Go to hell."

Then you elbow her hard. She backs off you, creating enough space for you to perform a spinning heel kick. She falls but you get her up into your shoulders into a fireman's carry.

You hit the Falcon Arrow on her and go in for the pin.

One. Two. Three. The bell rings and your music blares. The crowd goes insane. You spot Drew in the front row where he would mostly be off camera. He's looking at you in awe as he applauds. You smile as the ref holds your arm up, declaring you the official winner.

***

Days pass by since your match with Candice. It's all you talk about whenever you get the chance. Drew just smiles and listens as you tell him about the rush you felt being back in the ring.

You're driving to your hometown, a little suburb outside of Manhattan. It's been a quiet ride, and that's because Drew is asleep.

Timezones and jet lag have not been your friend during this trip, but it's easier for you to get used to the time change than it is for Drew.

You pull up to your childhood home and tap Drew's shoulder. "Hey, sleeping beauty," you say. "We're here."

He stirs and looks out the window. You smile and he says, "This is yer old house? It's so small."

"I didn't have much," you say. "My parents scrapped together what they could to pay for wrestling school when I was 14 until I was 17. I told myself then that I'd make it in wrestling and I'd pay them back for what they paid for me to go to wrestling school."

Drew looks at you and asks, "Can we go inside?"

You shake your head and say, "It was foreclosed. It belongs to the bank or something. It would be illegal to go in."

Your husband looks back at the house, which has fallen apart with age. It's a one story house. It has one bedroom, a tiny bathroom, and one room that holds the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas.

Drew says, "This while time ya were over here struggling, I was living it up as the prince of Scotland with my rich parents. I used to throw tantrums because they wouldn't get me the newest toy or take me on vacation with them, and your family couldn't afford either."

"We made it through," you say. "My parents live in a beautiful two story house in the nicer part of Manhattan. I paid them back right before I left for Scotland. Every story has a happy ending, Drew."

He smiles a bit and he asks, "Even ours?"

You smile and say, "Especially ours." You lean over the middle console and press a kiss to Drew's cheek. Your lips linger a little too long and he turns his head. You pull back a bit and meet his eyes.

That's when the butterflies flutter in your stomach and your heart races in your chest.

Slowly, both you and Drew lean into each other. Your eyes flicker to the lips you've only kissed twice, once at your wedding and once at a public event right after the wedding.

One of Drew's hands moves and rests on your cheek. You instinctively lean into his soft touch a bit.

Your lips are centimeters away from Drew's. Your noses touch as Drew's other hand moves to cup your other cheek.

"Tell me to stop if ya don't want this," Drew whispers.

You nod a bit and say, "I want this, Drew."

Then his lips brush against yours. A feather light touch. It makes you lean in more because you want more.

Drew guides your lips to his. Your eyes flutter closed as you kiss Drew. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he cups your face.

His facial hair tickles your chin and upper lip as the soft kiss continues.

It's like your first kiss all over again. Your first kiss was at your wedding in front of thousands of people. This one feels different. You never felt butterflies or your heart race when you kissed Drew at your wedding. You do now.

Drew pulls back and looks at you.

"How come ya never kissed me like that at our wedding?" he asks.

You say, "Because I didn't want it then. I wanted it now. I wanted the kiss."

He smiles and pecks your lips one more time before saying, "Show me yer favorite spot."

Giggling, you say, "I can't drive with you holding my face. Hold my hand if you wanna hold something."

Drew smiles and lets your face go. He takes your hand as you drive to your favorite spot.

Your favorite spot, or your safe spot, is a small park. You pull up, and get out.

The sun is setting, and you have a perfect view.

After taking Drew's hand, you walk over to a park bench. You sit down and Drew sits beside you. He wraps an arm around your shoulder as you both watch the sunset.

Drew says, "Ya don't have t'stay if ya don't want."

You look at him and ask, "What are you talking about?"

"In Scotland," he says. "Ya don't have t'stay. Being king isn't that important t'me if it means that ya don't get t'keep wrestling. I saw ya in the ring the other day, and it's all ya talk about. Ya love wrestling, and I don't wanna take that away from ya."

You turn so you're facing him as you say, "I'm happy in Scotland. Yeah, it was hard at first. I had to come to terms with possibly never wrestling again, and I did. Until you surprised me with this trip. I love that you did this for me, and for that, I'll help you become king and I'll be the best damn queen Scotland has ever seen." Drew smiles and you throw your legs over one of his legs.

You continue with, "Plus, I may or may not have fallen for you completely so I'm not going anywhere. Til death do us part, remember?"

There's almost a sparkle in Drew's eyes when you tell him that you might have fallen for him.

Your husband smiles and says, "I, uh, might've fallen for ya completely too."

You smile and lean into Drew. You kiss him slowly and softly. He kisses you back, pulling you closer to him.

The kiss is slow and full of passion. Your heart pounds in your chest as your lips move against Drew's.

Drew pulls back again and he says, "Let's find somewhere t'stay tonight. Do ya have a favorite hotel?"

You nod and say, "Yeah, it's in the city. Let's go."

The two of you get up and head to your favorite hotel.

***

The San Carlos Hotel. It's a cute little hotel, and not over the top fancy. You rent out a suite for the next few days, and they tell you that your stay is on the house because you're royalty. Sometimes being a royal has its perks.

The suite is a one bedroom suite. A full bathroom and walk in closet. Plus a living room area with a couch and a flat screen, and a kitchen.

Drew smiles when you unlock the door. You both walk in and you say, "Home sweet home while we tour New York."

He looks at you and say, "I'm glad ya didn't take the out when I offered it, Y/N. I didn't know ya were happy in Scotland. Honestly, I thought ya were miserable."

Giggling, you walk up to Drew and say, "Scotland is a beautiful country. I'm happy to be its princess, and eventually queen."

Your husband says, "Scotland's beauty is nothing compared to yers, Y/N."

Your cheeks heat up and say, "You are one unbelievably cheesy prince, you know that."

He laughs and says, "I take good pride in that. It's a talent."

Laughing, you begin to unpack. Drew disappears into the living room.

Once you've finished unpacking, you walk over to the window. You cross your arms over your chest and look out over the city that never sleeps.

Cars are still on the road and people are milling around on the sidewalks even though the sun has set.

You smile and keep looking out the window, until a pair of arms wraps around your shoulders. You don't have to look to know it's Drew. You lean back into him.

"I'll miss New York," you admit. "The city is always buzzing. It's the city that never sleeps, you know."

Drew presses a kiss to your temple and he says, "Just because we're gonna be king and queen doesn't mean we can't leave the country. We're not locked down in Scotland when we ascend the throne."

You sigh and say, "I know."

The two of you stand like that. You both look out over the city for several minutes.

Drew asks, "So, I did good?"

Nodding, you look up at Drew. "You did more than good," you say. "This has been the best trip of my life, and I'm glad you're here with me."

Your husband says, "I hope we can actually try at the relationship thing. I have a lot to learn still and-"

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to Drew's lips to cut him off. He's caught off guard by the kiss but he kisses you back.

After a moment, you pull back and say, "We're gonna try at the relationship thing." You smile. "But I know that you know a decent amount about some parts of a relationship."

Drew says, "I know a lot less than ya think I know."

You turn in his arms and ask, "So if I asked you to, I don't know, take off my clothes, you wouldn't know how to do it?"

His face gets flustered as he stammers, "Well, I, uh, I know how to take off clothes, Y/N."

"I would hope so," you say, teasing him.

Drew smiles and says, "Listen, I don't know much about relationships but I know a lot about the physical parts."

You stare up at Drew and say, "Show me what you know."

"Y/N, we just talked about trying the relationship thing," he says, smiling. "I don't think we're ready for the next step."

A smile forms on your lips as you say, "We've already skipped a step or two. What's one more?"

Drew pushes some hair out of your face before he cups your face. He says, "I wanna do this the right way, Y/N."

You look up at Drew and you say, "There is no right way when we're in this situation."

He laughs softly and says, "Yer not wrong."

Leaning your head up, you say, "So show me what you got."

Drew smiles and leans down, bringing his lips to yours. The kiss is slow at first, full of passion. You wrap your arms around Drew's waist, holding him close to you.

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, asking for access. You part your lips slightly. His tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a soft sigh into the kiss.

Your heart is racing in your chest at the thought of Drew taking off your clothes. You've seen him without a shirt on, but he's always seen you clothed.

While you're busy thinking, Drew's fingers have started working on the zipper of the jacket you're wearing. He pushes the jacket off of you and you pull away from the kiss.

Your eyes meet Drew's and he asks, "Ya really want this?"

Nodding, you say, "I want this." You untuck the shirt he's wearing from his pants.

Drew smiles and picks you up by your waist. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks toward the bed. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck. You take out the hair tie that's keeping his hair in a ponytail.

"I don't want your hair up when we're together," you admit. "I like it down."

Your husband lays you gently on your back on the bed. He looks down at you and says, "Anything for my princess."

You giggle, "So cheesy."

Drew leans down and kisses you. Your fingers slide up into his long locks. One of Drew's hands roams your body over your clothes while you start to unbutton the button up that he's wearing.

Several months ago, you and Drew wouldn't even touch each other. Not even hand-holding. Now, you're underneath him on a bed.

Things have definitely changed for the better over the last few weeks between you and Drew. It feels like euphoria when he kisses you or touches you. You can only imagine how it'll feel when his fingers find their way into your pants or under your shirt.

You're barely able to control yourself as Drew's lips move from yours to your neck. Your eyes flutter closed and you run your fingers through Drew's long locks. His button up now hangs open after you got it unbuttoned.

Drew kisses and nips at the skin on your neck as you push the open button-up off his body. You run your fingers gently up his now bare arms until your hands cup his face. You bring Drew's head up, bringing his face out of your neck. You're breathing a little heavy as you meet Drew's pretty blue eyes.

You lean your head up and press your lips to Drew's hard. One of Drew's hands runs down the side of your body, grazing the side of your breast. You almost shiver with anticipation as Drew's fingers reach the bottom of your t-shirt.

He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you. You sit up a bit and lift your arms over your head. Drew pulls the t-shirt off of you and discards it somewhere in the room. You're left in just a plain, black bra and pants. You didn't think you'd be doing this or you would have worn a fancier undergarment.

"God," Drew says, eyes wondering over your half naked upper body. Your cheeks get hot as he looks at you underneath him.

He shifts his weight so he's kneeling between your legs. He pulls your hips toward him. You feel the bulge in Drew's pants against your clothed crotch and you gasp slightly. Your husband sits on his heels as he looks at you.

You stare at Drew, waiting anxiously for him to make a move. Your heart racing wildly in your chest.

Drew hooks his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off your body slowly. They join your shirt on the hotel floor. He leans down and starts to lightly kiss your belly. You giggle and look down at him. His lips trail up your belly until he reaches the bra you're wearing. He undoes the front clasp and the bra falls open, exposing your breasts to Drew. Your breath hitches as he uses a finger and plays with one of your nipples. He kisses the other breast before sucking on that nipple.

You bite back a moan as you slightly arch your back off the mattress. The hand playing with your nipple moves down your body. Drew's fingers slip into the waistband of your panties and you sigh. You lick your bottom lip as his fingers inch closer to their target.

Your husband's eyes flicker up to your face and he watches for your reaction as two of his fingers run through your slick folds. Your eyes flutter closed and you smile, grasping onto the blankets on the bed.

His fingers tease your clit and you say in a whispered tone, "Don't tease." Drew teases your entrance and you let out a quiet moan.

"That was the prettiest things I've ever heard come from ya're mouth," Drew stares.

You get all flustered and say, "It's not nice to be a tease, Drew."

He presses a light kiss to your jaw and mumbles, "Tell me what ya want, princess."

Almost begging him, you say, "I want to feel your fingers inside me. Please."

Gently, Drew starts to pull off your panties. The fabric is thrown to the floor and you pull off the bra. You're completely naked in front of Drew, and you feel comfortable. You trust that Drew won't do anything to hurt you. He's the kind of man to make sure that you're okay with something before he does it.

Drew runs a finger through your soaked folds before he pushes that finger inside of you. You bite your lip to hold back your moans. Drew's hovering above your naked body. His lips are on your neck again, nipping at the skin and definitely leaving marks.

His finger moves in and out of you. You let your lip go and let out the moans you were holding in. Then Drew adds a second finger. You gasp and moan, "Drew."

"Making ya feel good with just my fingers?" Drew mumbles against your neck.

You nod frantically and say, "I love your finger."

He smirks and says, "I can promise ya that they love ya too."

The speed of his fingers quickens and your hips buck off the bed. You moan his name and a few profanities. A knot forms in your stomach.

You're intoxicated with how Drew is making you feel. You love the feeling of Drew's fingers inside of you. His touch makes you feel euphoric and waves of bliss overcome you with every flick of his wrist.

Your walls clench around Drew's fingers and you cry out, "Drew, I'm about to cum!"

The Scotsman's voice drops a tone and he asks, "Ya gonna cum from my fingers, princess? Do I make ya feel that good?"

Nodding, you desperately say, "I need to cum. Please."

"Go ahead, my love," he says.

Your legs begin to shake as you release all over Drew's fingers. More than you ever have for anyone before. Moans pass your lips as well as Drew's name mixed with profanities. Your breathing is labored as you come down from your high. Drew kisses you as you try to catch your breath.

Your lips move feverishly against his for a few moments before Drew gets back on his knees. You sit up with him between your legs and undo the button on his jeans. You look up at him as you push the dark blue fabric off his body. He's left in his boxer shorts as he sits back. You crawl onto his lap, straddling his huge bulge. You run your fingers down Drew's chest and he looks up at you.

"I have t'get something if we're gonna do this, princess," Drew says, pecking your lips. "Unless ya want to start producing heirs t'the throne right now."

You giggle and say, "Let's wait a year before we start doing that."

He smiles and snakes his way out from under you. You sit on the bed and watch as he grabs a little silver package out of the travel bag. He walks back over to you and you move to the edge of the bed.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull them down. Drew watches you as his erect member pops out of the boxers. His big, and thick. You swallow a bit and look up at Drew.

He's smirking down at you before ripping the tiny package open and sliding the contents on himself. Drew pushes a piece of hair out of your face and says, "Be a good princess. Get on yer back and spread those beautiful legs for me."

You don't say anything, you just do as your told. You scooch yourself back on the bed and lay on your back. You spread your legs a bit as Drew crawls up to you, hovering over you between your legs. The tip of his member runs through your folds and you sigh.

"I've been missing out on a lot," you admit, looking up at Drew.

Your husband lightly kisses you as he says, "I have a lot t'offer."

Smiling against his lips, you say, "I can see that."

Drew props himself up on his arms, hands on either side of your head. You stare up at him before he asks, "Are ya sure ya want this?"

You nod and say, "I've never wanted anything more."

Then he pushes inside you. You gasp at the small amount of pain you feel before it goes away, turning to pleasure. He thrusts slowly into you, moving deeper every few movements. His length starts to fill you little by little. You're a moaning mess beneath Drew, nails raking up and down his back.

When he's fully inside you and you're adjusted, his hips speed up. He starts thrusting harder into you. Grunts leave his lips as moans leave yours. You wrap your legs around his waist so he has better access.

"Oh, fuck," you cry out. "Don't stop, Drew. Oh, faster. Please."

He listens to your wishes and he moves faster. He leans down and brushes his lips against yours. You lean your head up for the kiss and he pulls back slightly. You chase his lips and they barely touch his.

The tip of Drew's member finds your g-spot and you cry out. That's when he knows he's found the target, and he moves faster. His member slams into your g-spot over and over again. You scream out his name mixed with profanities several times as he fucks you into the mattress.

The same knot from earlier forms in your stomach as Drew builds you up to a second orgasm.

Drew's finally kissing you. Your lips move against his breathlessly and your nails dig into his sides. He twitches inside of you and you mumble, "I'm about to cum, baby."

"Me too," Drew says. "Together."

You nod. He moves a few more times before you both cum at the same time. You around him and him into the condom.

Drew kisses you messily as you both ride out your highs. Your hands are on his face as you messily make out with him.

He pulls out of you and pulls back from the kiss. You whine a bit as he ties off the condom, throwing it away. Drew helps you under the comforter before joining you. Drew spoons you from behind with one of his arms draped over you. You hold his hand as you press your back to his chest.

Both your breathing and Drew's breathing have returned to normal. He leaves soft kisses on your shoulder and a smile is on you lips.

"That was amazing," you say. "I really could've had that the entire time instead of fighting with you."

Drew lets out a breathy laugh and says, "I should've just talked to ya about everything sooner. We could'a done that a long time ago."

You giggle and say, "Now that we have done that, I don't know how long I can go before we do that again."

Your husband says, "Whenever ya want, princess. Hell, if ya wanted another go then I wouldn't say no."

Looking back at Drew, you say, "Calm down. You just made me cum twice within several minutes. I need some time."

Drew smiles and says, "Of course. Were ya seriously about that waiting a year before we start trying for a baby?"

"Of course I was," you say, turning and facing Drew. "I would love to have a baby with you, but I want to make sure that it's something we both want. I'm ten year younger than you, Drew. We have some time."

Your husband smiles wide and kisses you. "I am so in love with ya, princess," Drew coos against your lips.

"I'm so in love with you too, Drew," you respond.

Months ago, you hated the thought of marrying Drew just for him to become king. You never even wore your rings behind closed doors. Now, it's changed into something more. An actual relationship where you love Drew and he loves you.

That's all you hoped for when you said 'I do' to the prince of Scotland.

—

tags: @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

[crybabykiko]

Brainrot Kinktober 10/29

treat like gold

Lingerie: Alisa Haiba x Fem!Reader

Warnings: not a lot ??? I don’t think? Light voyeurism, light exhibitionism, Dom!Alisa a little bit, never thought I’d write scissoring but that’s in there, fingering, some bad words, ummmmmm yeah I think that’s it? Just wanna be topped by the woman of my dreams

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: lmfao I found out Alisa is an Aries and chaos ensued I’m so sorry 👀 also ty @whet-ones-write for being my lovely beta reader bc sometimes we can’t all die like men also kiska is just a Russian pet name, it’s the equivalent to “kitten” in English!

Brainrot Kinktober Mlist

Red has always been her color. No matter what she wore, no matter how many runways she walked, no matter how many campaigns she had booked- she always stood out the most in red. It was her lucky color, and her lucky red pumps that got her the deal with the biggest up and coming intimates brand, TLG Lingerie.

Red was her lucky color, and the bane of your existence.

Being friends and living with a model obviously had its perks- her agency pays your rent; and you live in a fucking penthouse for starters. You get to go to a ton of industry parties, and of course, getting to see your amazing best friend live her dreams and cheer her on felt good. But you’d be a liar if you didn’t admit that it was also self-indulgent of you to be her assistant- you were the one that told her agency to send her on the TLG go-see… you’re the one who suggested the stylist change her from the white piece to the red one… you are the reason that those test shots of her in a fiery red bra, stocking, and garter set are sitting on your kitchen table right now- and let’s not even get started on the red marabou babydoll that you insisted she wear. You did this to yourself.

Fucking masochist. Now look at you. You’re a mess.

Your fingers were knuckle deep in your own wetness, your free hand aggressively kneading your breast as you rutted your hips against your hand, softly reciting her name as your face twisted in a torturous buildup. There was no way to prepare for the way the door flung open…. you hadn’t even heard her come into the penthouse.

“Hey, Y/N I was going to order Thai for din- OH!”

Your motions ceased, the feeling of your orgasm was instead replaced by a burning heat and anxious nausea as your eyes met Alisa’s in the doorway. Neither of you could move or speak- it felt like life was moving in slow motion.

“I didn’t know you were busy, I'm sorry,” Alisa spoke.

Her eyes were unmoving, not only looking at you but through you. Her breathing wavered as she bent over to pick up the discarded takeout menu. You finally regained enough composure to cover yourself- still dazed and utterly mortified.

“I didn’t know I had that effect on you.”

You wanted to feign ignorance, hell, you wanted to die- but in this moment playing dumb was the only thing you could do- until she picked up the still you had casually slipped into your pocket when she originally had the TLG shoot.

“You know, you could’ve just asked for a still,” she lamented, starting to make her way over to you. While your eyes widened with fear, her’s awakened with intrigue. She sat at the corner of the living room sectional tracing the corners of the photograph with her fingertips, eyes fluttering back and forth between it and you.

Finally settling her gaze, Alisa laid back, settling into your mattress with a sigh. Your body tensed as she stared- her eyes have always been her sharpest feature against her delicate appearance.

“Go ahead,” she goaded. “Finish what you started.”

It was a pointed command. Biting her lip, she pulled away the throw blankets that you had been so desperately clutching, cool air hitting your skin as you let out a shaky exhale. You stomach twisted ín self- consciousness, but you couldn’t stop either- an unexplainable tether pulled you. Readjusting yourself on the couch, you rested your back flush against the supportive cushion, spreading more to give her a full show of your puffy, slick-coated lips and inner thighs. She flopped onto her stomach, peering up at you from the foot of the couch intently.

“I- I-...” Finally, you were able to utter a syllable. It wasn’t of much use.

“You what?” She teased tilting her head curiously and almost in an innocent fashion. “You weren’t this stiff a minute ago~”

Your cheeks were hot, but your core was even hotter. Slowly, you slid a finger across your clit, jerking at the contact while she watched. As you rubbed some more tiny circles, one by one the soft whimpers from before started to fill the room yet again. You and Alisa kept eyes locked on each other as you curled in one of your fingers, then another, the open mouthed ‘o’ spreading across your face as her eyes darkened even more. She was beautiful- but sinister in her line of questioning.

“Does it feel good?”

You nodded.

“Do you do this often? Do you play with yourself and wish it were me?”

You fixed your lips to say no but nothing came out as you saw her begin to unbutton her blouse. It would’ve been a lie anyway. You’ve wanted her for as long as you’ve been friends. You’ve wanted her ever since you met.

“You shouldn’t be using photos of me if you have the real thing,” the fabric flowed off of her body to reveal the bra from the photographs- the fiery red lace and golden ‘TLG’ hook in the middle. Alisa began to crawl toward you, stopping just short of your feet to shimmy her way out of the pencil skirt she had been wearing for all of her go-sees that day. The matching red thong came into view, the full effect of the photos paling in comparison to the actual sight in front of you.

“Especially not when you can have the real thing anytime you want.”

By now her face was so close to yours that her breath tickled you. You had unconsciously sped up the motions of your fingers, a third falling in line with the others and pistoning itself in and out of your pussy. Alisa cooed and mewled, nodding at you with sweet praises falling from her lips. Taking your free hand, she guided you to her own chest, hands just grazing her barely covered tits- then to her lips, pulling two of your fingers into her mouth. As your jaw was hanging open, all you could do was manage a half sob from the back of your throat. The dizzying feeling of what was happening combining with the lightheadedness you were already feeling begin to well up inside of you.

There was a moment of stillness from you as Alisa leaned down to eye your glistening heat. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as her fingertips found a way up your chin, brushing past your lips as you began to suckle almost instinctively. Pleased with your eagerness, she looked up at you through her thick lashes, batting her eyes.

“How about we just… touch each other hm?” The suggestion hung in the air, only punctuated by your ragged breathing and a desperate “please” that squeaked from your throat, raw from straining and holding in the moans of your impending high.

“I’ve barely touched you, y/n.” she hummed. “You’re so desperate. It’s cute.” Her little giggle made your walls clench haphazardly at her teasing. Slowly, she slipped herself out of the red fabric at her hips, neatly placing the bundled thong in your mouth as a makeshift gag.

“I can’t let you have all the fun…”

Alisa’s finger trailed up your slit, collecting the pooling wetness that coated your lower half. She smiled, taking it into her mouth, humming at the taste of your essence. Her weight shifted as she moved herself to dangle over you, repositioning one of your legs and interlocking your fingers with hers to hold a semblance of balance as she lowered her own hips to meet yours. Slowly, she ran herself against you, making sure to guide your hips to match her own ministrations. You strained against each other, juices mixing as you began to work up an even pace.

“How long have you wanted this?” Her flowery moans filled the room with an unexpected rasp, one contrasting that of her normally demure voice. She was a completely new person- a sapphic vixen driven by nothing more than the feeling the sins of your flesh.

“I - fuck,” you panted, taking a sharp inhale as you felt two of her fingers suddenly begin to slowly stretch you. “Fuck, I’ve wanted this so bad.”

Her other free hand began to pinch and tweak at your hardened nipples, wanton cries spilling out of your lips and into hers, muffled under her kiss.

“Mhmmm, I know you have, kiska,” Alisa moaned, craning her neck down to your earlobe, gently blowing on it as she continued to grind down into you. Your walls flushed with heat at the roughness of her mother tongue combining with her soft voice.

“Everyone wants to fuck me. I’m Alisa fucking Haiba.”

Your walls clamping onto her fingers was confirmation enough that she was right, a smug chuckle and click of her tongue resounding in your ear as she locked her gaze with that of your own.

Her clit slid against yours with each buck of your hips, the sudden motions combined with her fingers curling against your soft walls again sparking the painstaking buildup of a knot in your stomach. Alisa’s eyes never left yours as one of her delicate, expertly manicured hands found its way to each side of your neck, gently squeezing. No sound escaped your lips, but your jaw was stuck open as she started to speed up her movement, rutting her cunt against yours even more aggressively than before.

The pleasurable friction between you two had your eyes screw shut before you could even get one last look at her face. You came undone with a shrill cry, hips bucking almost manically as you rode it out. The self satisfying smirk on Alisa’s face said it all.

Wiping the hairs from your sweaty forehead she kissed you again, hopping up and darting toward the stairs, leaving you panting breathlessly.

“What about the food?” Your voice was barely above a hoarse croak. It was scratchy and raw, even though you had barely made any sounds. Too much straining had taken its toll, and that was evident.

“That can wait,” she called. She was halfway up the stairs, looking down at you from the landing’s balcony.

“I’m gonna go put on the babydoll…. and get my toy box.”

Brainrot Kinktober Taglist (if your url is bolded, check ur privacy settings!): @ukaic @definitelythotful @shrimpypenis @nonexistent-social-life @crushingonsuga @revolutionary-chocolate-cake @right-shoe-jpg @sugawara-sweetheart @nxynxy @aoba-baby @arianna20 @scorpiosanssexy @ceo-of-daichi @dinosaurtsukki @turquoiselace @nonamemaximum @omibaby @chokemelevi @bokuakadaily @haikyuuangst @cutie-aesthetic-palace @whet-ones-write @superdepressedhoe @iwachanswh0re @crushzone @kiseox @mysticalroadnightempath @toobsessedsstuff @trouvelle @kodzu-ken @elianetsantana @sonyaroses-blog @tsukkisbitch @mrs-kuroojinguji @tendousfingers

[dex-xe]

I'm so proud of you. Cap and Alison 😊

Alison & Captain Fluff #11: “I’m so proud of you”

(This ended up being more angsty than I wanted it but its still super fluffy and sweet and  I’m really happy with how it turned out,, the obvious answer was I think for Alison to say it to Cap about coming out but I decided to flip it a little!! Thank you so much for this ask, this was a really fun one!!)

TW:// grief, death, etc

Prompt list

Inbox

It was the opening night of Button House Hotel. The entire day had been filled with Mike and Alison rushing frantically around the house arranging and rearranging the flowers, making and then remaking beds, placing the little finishing touches to their masterpiece, their life’s work. Five long years of hard graft was finally about to pay off as the arrival of the very first paying guests was imminent.

Alison dashed through the corridors in search of Mike, clutching a red ribbon in her fist. Her husband had taken a backseat for much of the opening night preparations but had made one single demand: he wanted to cut a thick red ribbon over the front door with a pair of novelty-sized scissors, to be met with mediocre applause from the crowd. So there Alison was, mere hours before the first guests arrived, sprinting through the house to try and make Mike’s dreams come true.

“Alison!” Someone called after her as she ran. “Alison!, Alison!” She spun around dramatically to find the Captain jogging down the hallway trying to catch her attention with his swagger stick. “Alison! Wait a minute!”

“What, Captain? I’m a little busy, if you can’t tell,” Alison huffed, continuing to march away from him towards the stairs. “I’ve gotta stick up this ribbon so Mike can have his ridiculous ‘small town mayor opening a leisure centre’ moment. Thank the Lord it’s before the guests arrive and only in front of family, hey?”

“I would just take a moment of your time, Alison,” the Captain quickly overtook Alison’s marching and stopped abruptly in front of her, blocking her path to the stairs.

“What is it?” Alison asked turning the ribbon over in her hands.

“Are Michael’s family making an appearance? For the grand opening?” The Captain asked.

“Yeah, they should be here soon,” Alison said. “They wanted to come for, and I quote, ‘the best day of their son’s life’. So, you know, it’s good to see how much they value our wedding day.”

“Right. And your mother and father shan’t be here?” He enquired.

“That would be a little difficult,” Alison mumbled.

“They should surely be here to witness their little girl’s achievements, yes?” The Captain cleared his throat and smiled down at Alison. “They should be able to relish in the success of their darling girl.”

“I’m not sure Eastwood Cemetery really allow their residents day trips,” Alison smirked.

If the Captain had any blood, he was sure it would drain from his face, and neck, and chest, and all the way down to his toes. Perhaps it would have drained right out of his soles and left him a mere pool of anxious WWII commander on the corridor floor. Alison clocked the horror on his face and chuckled at his agape mouth and wide eyes.

“It was a long time ago, it’s alright to joke about it now,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“You’ve never said anything?”

“You’ve never asked.” An awkward silence fell between the pair, with the Captain not quite sure of an appropriate response. “Is that all you wanted, Cap?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I- this house, I mean- I think it will make a rather wonderful hotel.”

“You’ve changed your tune since we first moved in,” Alison said, a smug smile overtaking her. Despite the time pressure, she couldn’t help but want to relish in the usually authoritative and disdainful Captain eat his words so she leant back against the wall, satisfied to rejoice in his grovelling.

“Well yes, I understand I was hesitant at first. But I know yourself and Michael now, and I respect that you are doing what is best for yourselves and this house. And us too. I just wished to say that I-,” he trailed off and glanced down at his shuffling shoes.

“You wanted to say what?” Alison asked.

“That I’m so proud of you,” he finished meeting Alison’s gaze, blue eyes boring into her soul. “I am so very proud of you.”

Alison’s lip began to quiver, her face crumpled and fat tears threatened to spill over onto flushed cheeks. She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve, not wanting the Captain to react irrationally at her emotion, as he was prone to doing.

“Oh dear!” The Captain floundered. “Alison, I’m afraid this hasn’t quite had the desired effect. Do not cry! I shall fetch Patrick, he’s rather better at this than I am.” He waved his arms dramatically around Alison, as if trying to comfort her without touching and making himself feel ill.

“No!” Alison tried to grab his arm, moving straight through him. “No, it’s okay! I- thank you. No one has said that to me in a little while, Captain, that’s all.”

“Well, hmm. Yes, I understand that now, what with your parents being- I mean to say that I am proud of all the work you have dedicated to a house I’ve seen neglected for so many years. I was rather apprehensive to place the house in new hands, especially such young and inexperienced ones. But you have taken us ghosts into consideration and given us appreciation we have not seen in many a decade. Your hotel will be wonderful, and you have done a bally marvellous job these past years.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Alison sniffled quietly and gazed up at the Captain.

“No need to say anything. My musings are finished now, you may return to the party planning.”

“I- Captain. I know I get on your nerves, you don’t exactly hide that well.” The Captain moved to interject, but was left opening and closing his mouth like a confused fish. “I know we argue, but I really appreciate your support. I’ve never really had- I’ve not had that for a long time.”

They smiled at each other, ethereal in the beams of dusty sunlight coursing through the window.

“I love you, Captain,” Alison whispered, afraid of what the Captain might say. “I wish I could hug you, this is so unfair. All I want is to hug you!”

The Captain chuckled and wrapped his arms around Alison’s shoulders, not touching her in the slightest but kidding them both into appreciating the physical affection.

“And I, you.” He muttered, quiet enough they could both ignore it had ever happened. Nobody need know the secretive affection the Captain held for Alison: he had never been a father in life but in death was more than willing to take that role and hold her the best way he could, if only for a fleeting moment.

[pixie88]

A Free Man

A/N: Those that Lovelink know Damien Jones or his counter Austin. I was thinking about doing a Damien FF and after yesterday’s date I definitely needed to do it! Thanks to @khoicesbyk​ for the idea and giving me the push to write this. MC is named after her MC in the app. Normally I have to write SMUT after a few drinks haha. It’s pure smut with a little fluff I hope you like it!

A/N 2: Re-uploading because Tumblr is a b***h and took it down, I’m uploading again. Tumblr you need to take a closer look at some of the stuff on here that REALLY violates the community guidelines. #justsaying

Find my other Lovelink FF HERE on my masterlist under Lovelink - One shots. Along with my Rory Bear & Shopping Trip (Rory O’Brien), My Science Buff & The Naughty Teacher (Marco Bottazzi), Photogenic (Dominic Wright) & Tattoo Artist to Businessman (Blake Bailey) FF. 

Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Comments always welcome!

Word count: 1757

WARNINGS: ⚠️ NSFW & Fluffy fluff

Disclaimer: Characters are property of Lovelink.

Pairings: Damien x MC - Kara

Enjoy!

I'm standing in the prison car park just staring at the door, I look down at my watch 10.37 AM. 7 minutes late what if something has happened? I pull out my phone and load up Lovelink.

*Damien last active 8.09 AM*

Then I hear the creaky iron door open. I look up there he! My Damien a free man!

He looks around then spots me, the brightest smile appears on his face as he starts sprinting towards me.

My eyes well up, his arms wrap around me, he lifts my feet off the ground and spins me round "KARA!"

He pepper kisses all over my face before his lips crash against mine, his tongue invades my mouth "God, it feels so good to be able to do that without worrying about a guard catching us or counting the minutes until our time is up! That's all thanks to you Kara. Most people wouldn't have stuck by me like you have" he lands soft kiss against my lips.

"Damien, guess what?"

"What?"

"You are finally a free man!"

He grins, "Come on, I need to refuel, then burn some energy," he puts me down and gives me a look that warns me that we need to leave now before he takes me right here.

"Let's get you home!"

We get into the car, "I never thought I'd see the back of that place"

He's looking out the window, staring. I reach over, take his hand in mine "Your future starts today"

He kisses my knuckles "Our future! Kara you are my future"

My cheeks burn "What do you want to eat?"

"Besides you? Something greasy, a burger oh, and fries and a chocolate milkshake"

I laugh "OK, I think there's a diner just down here"

We pull in and head inside, we order Damien leans over the table and takes my hands "You have no idea how much I've missed touching you"

I bite my lip, he gaze makes me squeeze my legs together "Oh, I think I do!"

"2 Cheeseburgers with fries, 1 chocolate shake and 1 strawberry shake!" the waitress puts the food down in front of us.

He face lights up "Thanks," he says as she leaves us to it.

He takes his first bite "Oh..My..GOD" he says between chews.

I can't help smiling at him "Kara, are you sure you don't mind me staying with you?"

"Hey! Now you are out I don't want to spend a minute away from you!"

He chuckles "Good because I wouldn't want to be anywhere else"

~*~*~*~

We pull to my apartment building "Home sweet home" I tell him.

He looks up at the building "Nice area so much nicer than where I've lived before" he smiles at me.

"Come on, let's get you inside" we head up, he's close behind me.

I open the door and before it slams shut his lips are on mine like I'm the air he needs to survive. His hands roam my body desperately, his lips move to my pulse line, I push off his jacket needing fewer clothes between us.

His hands slide under my thighs before he lifts me up, I wrap my legs around his waist. He moves us across the room our lips not leaving each others, he lowers me onto the kitchen counter pulls back just a little to look at me as his hand glides up my leg and under my dress "Damien?"

He smiles "I can't believe this is real," I blush, he reaches his goal, he pulls my underwear to the side. The pads of his fingers brush against my core making me shiver "God, Damien!" I see him grinning as he's standing in front of me.

I pull his t-shirt over his head, run my hand down his chest and abs.

"Oh!!" his fingers dip between my folds and play against my clit, I reach for his belt and unbuckle it. I slip my hand beneath his jeans, I can feel his hard shaft trying to break free, he groans.

I pull him back to me, kissing and nipping his neck "Kara....fuck" I dip my hand under the waistband of his boxer, grasp him and start working up and down. His head collapses against my shoulder, both trying to catch our breath as we match each other's rhythm.

"Damien....I..." I don't need to finish my sentence he pulls down my underwear and removes his "Wait, there's some condoms in my bag" he reaches behind me and grabs one.

"How long you had these in there?" He smirks.

"Before my first lesson at the prison, but we never got a chance to use them" I wink.

"I'll make it up to you now" He rolls it over his hard member.

His lips smash against mine as he pushes pass my entrance filling me. I wrap around him adjusting to his size, his pace is slow to start with "Harder Damien" a growl catches in his throat.

He draws out all the way to the tip before he thrusts harder all the way to the base, each thrust is more powerful than the last.

I dig my nails into his back, and he hisses "Ohhh...baby!"

He reaches between where our bodies meet and works against my clit "Fuck...." I feel him grin against my lips.

His pace speeds up I grip his shoulders anchoring myself, I can't hold back anymore, I clench around him as I fall over the edge "Damien YES!"

"God Kara! Shit" I feel his body jerk as he hits his own peak.

Both panting, he places a soft kiss on my lips "Wow that was..."

He lift me up of the counter "I'm no way through with you yet!" he takes us over to the couch.

"Damien!" I giggle.

~*~*~*~

"No!! I didn't do it! NO!!" I stir the room still dark, I turn on the lamp"No! It wasn't me!! Kara Please!!" I hear Damien scream I turn over, he still asleep, he must be dreaming.

I touch his face and whisper "Damien, hey, it's ok! Wake up" I stroke his face, he's sweating.

He begins to stir gasping for breath, after a moment he realizes where he is "Hey, did you have a bad dream?" He nods "Aww baby! What was it about?" He casts his eyes away from mine "Hey, you can tell me"

"I...I was arrested. One of Bennie's goons set me up, Kara, I was so scared. The worst part was you actually believed I did it!"

I turn him to face me "Hey, I would never do that because I know you aren't capable of that. It was just a bad dream"

He looks at me with sad eyes, "I know but it felt so real"

I place my finger to his lips shushing him "You know what's real? Me here with you" I place his hand on my chest.

His face starts to soften, his hand come up and hook under my chin he pulls my lips towards his, I rest my hands against his peeks.

He stops "Kara, I love you"

I smile, "I love you more"

He laughs before claiming my lips with his. The kiss starts of soft before becoming more intense, his tongue swirls with mine.

I pull away "Let me show you how real this is" I place little kisses down his neck, chest, he groans. I brush over his boxers to find him ready for me, I hook my fingers under the band of his boxers freeing him.

I grip around the base before circling his tip against my tongue "FUCK, KARA!" he groans.

I take him fully in my mouth working up and down his hard shaft. His hand clutches my hair moving me to his rhythm "Crap...baby....that feels" each time I draw back I lightly graze my teeth against him making him buck his hips up.

I pull him out "Feel real enough for you?" before he can answer I work my mouth along him again.

"Fuck...yes" he arches off the bed.

He pulls me up towards his lips, so I'm straddling him, I reach over to the bedside table and grab the foil packet. He pulls away takes the packet out of my hand rips it open between his teeth in one swift moment he slides it on.

His hard member runs along my apex before entering me making me cry out "Oh!" he moves slow stretching my walls, he pulls me back to his lips as his hips thrust up against mine.

I sit up a little and move my hips with his"Kara..you feel so..ride me baby" as he thrust his hips up and plunge mine down causes him to go deeper.

"Damien, just like that..oh" I press my hands against his chest.

"Baby...that's it ride me harder...fuck" I speed up my rhythm his hands clutch my hips moving me to his beat.

He sits up grasping my hair capturing my lips with his. His kiss is rough, his hips thrust up harder and faster. His arms wrap around me, pressing me tighter against him.

"Come for me Kara! I know you're holding back!" he thrusts up harder, pushing me towards the edge a few more thrusts "Yes Damien YES!" this send towards his own climax "Kara!!" he collapses backwards on the bed with me against his chest, both trying to catch our breath.

~*~*~*~

The next morning I left Damien in bed sleeping while I jumped in the shower, behind me, I hear the door open.

I feel his presence behind me, his hand moves the hair away from my neck, and he begins to kiss against my pulse line, his other hand cups my breast.

"Morning" He whispers, I turn in his arms and gently kiss his lips as his hand dips between my legs and brushes against my centre.

I moan against his lips, he lifts me up and press me against the glass. We get lost in each others embrace.

Later I'm just about to I head over to my dresser as I look up at the mirror my heart melts. In red lip stick, there's a love heart with a message that reads.

Kara, Will you be my girlfriend? D x

"You found it, then?" I hear him call over from the doorway "So, what's your answer?"

I run over to him, crash my lips to his. He pulls away slightly "Is that a yes?"

I nod

"Well, that causes for a celebration" he walks us backwards until we fall onto the bed.

"I love you Damien"

"Guess what...I love you more Kara!"

[muffindaddystyles]

HIP DISLOCATION AT FIRST SIGHT.

Summary: where you're a waitress at Harry's favourite friends-hangout spot, he secretly likes you and you're having a rough day.

Warning: angst and fluff.

You're a beaming sparrow rolling onto balls of your feet from one booth to another taking orders and being sure of customer's satisfaction at it's peak. Sure, managing a five to nine waitress job isn't anyone's dream but paying tuition fees and bills can make anyone work.

Harry loves to be at this resturant you work; perhaps there's something 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 he loves rather than goofing around with his friends at late hours in any of the booths in far corner.

When he first came here it was for a date who stood him up and you wouldn't lie that you kinda tiny bit of manifested for it but went through a broken heart seeing Harry's sad eyes after him lingering to that one hope that his date would show up.

He was relieved that you helped him at that time with you again and again popping your head just to ask him, if he needs any refills for which he would just kindly quip 'thanks love, bu' it's already tipplin' out from rim.' Or you askin' him if he'll like to fill his belly with some appetizers? Poor him didn't ate anythin' from menu just waiting for his date that day.

From that you got to know he's such a gentleman who got his heart stepped on.

He found you enticing. So, fuckin' beaming even with all of the customers tantrums. Them fussing around for the mess their kids created and Harry couldn't take his eyes away from the slight curve your body molded into when you walked away from him.

With his few more visits you got accustomed that what he likes and the one favourite dish of yours from the resturant you recommended him one time, he licked the plate clean giggling coyly at your reaction.

But today it's different. He's chatting around with his friends, they look super chill, comfy clothes, relaxed postures and a train of light conversation that never seems to end.

You were admiring them from your spot waiting for the tray of food for the table 201 ready to take Harry's and his friend's order after that, suddenly a whine escaping from your lips and you bended your calve to soothe out the drastic pain in your hip-bone.

Zoe one of the hostess gave you a sympathetic smile handing you the tray, "hurtin' like a bitch." You hissed to her toes curling. You've been having this pain for like a week but whatever exercises you're doing it wouldn't budge to ease out.

Maintaining a decent gait you headed towards the last table of your shift before closing, smiling at all of them sweetly, whatever you did not to lock your gaze with Harry it anyhow happened by Cupid's wishes.

"Hi everyone, I'm your waitress and will be takin' your orders." You chirped taking out the sequin notepad from the front pocket of your lace apron and Harry's friends couldn't help but to notice how the tips of his ears turned red, eyes glassy with adoring sheen and lips quirking up shyly.

You noted down everyone's littlest of details turning your head down towards Harry, your voice immediately cooing into a soft one softer than you usually use to be polite with costumers.

"And Harry you'll have your usual?" He cleared his throat coughing into his elbow and everyone stifled a fond laugh just for his sake, "yes, please." His please was so gentle that it melted you over the pastel mauve tiles almost making you forget your pain.

The moment you spinned with your back behind them Harry's loving female friend pinched his cheek, "looks like someone gotta girl crush."

Everyone was chatting but Harry's mind and heart was all for you, it didn't slip out from his sheer notice that you're having it rough today; ponytail loose, cheeks flushed not with the warmth you feel from Harry's presence but with the pain zapping in your leg like an electric shock.

His eyes stayed glued to the way your nails coated into hot red nail polish aren't drumming against the counter as they usually do when you wait for the order instead they're clutching around the edges tightly paling your knuckles and now Harry feels concerned.

Another contraction but you didn't startled yourself. No way you're gonna get made fun of yourself infront of Harry, it would be so embarrassing.

Harry peers up at you with a frown when you heads to their table for refills but you didn't meet his eyes. What his friends will say? That you're a cheap waitress drooling for a bambi eyed, hickorey curls, sunny guy.

But damn when your hands wavered while lifting the jug to pour a glass of water, and you sucked your bottom lip to swallow your agonising gasp Harry wanted to lurch from his seat and ask you what's happening because it's frustrating at this point looking you being so wrecked.

You weakly smiled at all of them. Harry wants to stop you by grabbing your hand but he wants to respect you and doesn't want him to cross his boundaries.

You're back with a tray loaded of food and you're putting plates onto the table when an unbearable contraction of pain twitched inside you badly and you cried out a scream of horror, the tray slipping from your hand to the far corner of the table. The pain's so much your breath has got stuck in your chest causing you too see white.

"Y/n!" Harry panics hot on his feet scooping your side in his arms when you lurch forward unconsciously, even the tears aren't falling from your eyes stayin' at the bayline and you cry out in spurts of breaths dropping Harry's heart to his arse when he got the indication you couldn't breath.

"C-can't...b-" Harry immediately rubbed your back in soothing circles whispering with his honey rasp, "breath fo' me yeah, darlin'?". "S'alright. Jus' breath alon' me." You nod and everyone watches you in shock pity. At Harry's countdown you exhaled and inhaled breaths, his friends are in awe a love-at-first-sight, baby-steps love story is unraveling infront of them.

Harry makes you sit at his seat and you giggle shamefully breathily eyes glossy, "Thank you Harry. Can you..can you call zoe for me? She's right behind the counter." The words burning inside your throat and you're expecting another zap.

Harry's a bit hurt. He doesn't even know why! He wants be the one to take care of you but why you aren't gettin' it, why!?

You want to apologise to his friends but all the words just vanishes when zoe comes padding hurriedly Harry behind her with ever sad eyes, "bubs what happened?"

You're about to speak but another contradiction like someone's pulling at your vein and you're a goner but Harry's by your side holding your hand ignoring the twitch from your hardcore grip as if you'll fracture his hand too, "ah fuck! I think so I broke my hip. I'm fuckin' sure, it feels like dying." You scream jerking your leg and even though Harry's friends shouldn't look at you two with so much awement at the moment but they're still doing so because fuck they all are planning the same sight of both of you at the time of your labour because it may seems like you're popping out Harry's child outta your vagina at the moment.

"M'takin' ye' to hospital." Harry says with stern firmness in his voice because fuck boundaries he can't see you in such pain, "s'okay zoe can you take me to hospital?" You hissed writhing but Harry cuts you off. he's loosing his shit, "I don't care, can't see ya like this lemme help ye'."

Next thing Harry's helping your limpy body outside into the backseat of his car and the whole ride he's beside you one of his friend driving the car, you were a blushing mess at some second but another arching your spine so hard and Harry's instantly wrapping you up in his arms whispering sweet nothings through your tears.

You've gone through a little surgery and it's hour after you're shifted into a room that Harry takes a sigh of relief, you groan fluttering your eyes open the very first sight of yours is Harry into his yellow jumper and plaid trouser looking a tad exhausted.

You're on anesthetic and you're sloppy.

"Hi love feelin' kay? You went through a tiny surgery." He informs you but you pouts in response ignoring everything coming straight to the point, sober you would have never got guts.

"A-are ye' me boyfrien'..?" Your words are bit lisped and poppish, Harry chuckles swiping his thumb at your forehead.

"No' yet. Will be if ye' wan' me to." You bobbed your head like a good little girl observing your odd surroundings and fat tears sticks to your cheeks.

"What happened buns? Should I call doctor? Y'hurtin somewhere?" But you denied lower lip swelling for no reason or maybe medication.

"I've so mu-sh uni work to do, an' I've nothin' to wear on our date." Harry giggles wiping away your tears kissing the apples of your cheeks, stroking your head and you mewled like a kitten making Harry's throat go dry.

"No worries bunny. We'll go on a date whenever you'll want to." He just wants to shower you in his undeniable affectionate kisses but he's holding back, "fo' now go to rest. I'll have m'sober bunny peeking from the meadow in mornin' yeh?"

"Promise me you wouldn't leave?" You asks with doe eyes and he just wants to smash his lips to yours. Fuck. He waited so long.

"Did I, before'?" He asks you kissing your forehead gently trying not to irritate the plaster of your hip. You shook your head tucking your chin inside the comforter, "then I wouldn't even now."

In the morning you find your fingers buried into soft mess of curls and he was already up before you could try to even move your finger, "Harry?" Your voice hoarse from the drowsiness and he cups your cheeks asking if you're feeling dehydrated but you chuckled shaking your head.

"I feel high." He tucks his bottom lip inside his mouth at the fact you look more ethereal from this close, "high from anesthesia." He quips.

"Do you remember anythin' from last night?" He's anxious now how he'll bring to actually ask you out, "I do, from me litreally shouting like a lady bout to give birth to crying for not havin' any dress for our date." He's amused not just at the fact your memory didn't slipped but that you're more chatty and bubbly outta your waitress persona.

"Then it's solid?" He asks timidly and you nod humming coarsely leaning to peck his lips but he grabs you by neck not letting you pull back, thumbs all stroking, mouth moanin' for you and eyes closed into bliss.

"Wanted to kiss ye' so bad from so long." He deepens the kiss not caring if any doctor comes marching right now.

"Now I'm all yours to kiss. Kiss me whenever you want to."