#i jumped to set and i landed on one foot

[winterzz7]

the good thing about being hypermobile is that i can land on one foot and roll my ankle and be absolutely fine afterward

[gojorgeous]

"business or pleasure?"

pairing: gojo x fem!reader summary: the gojo clan decides it’s time to secure an heir… and you’re the lucky woman selected for the job… content: HEAVY breeding, arranged marriage, language, praise, dacryphilia, p->v, fingering, mating press, a lil’ blood (if you squint), pet names, implied multiple rounds, gojo just generally being a menace, no established relationship, reader and gojo literally just met, reader is literally there for the purpose of getting pregnant, positive pregnancy test at the end, ideas of women as baby incubators :x, consent king gojo. wc: 3.7k a/n: I HAVE RETURNED!!! Hey!!!!!! Long time no see, babes. I was looking at my account and I haven’t posted a fic in *cough* TWO YEARS. There is simply no way that’s real 😭 Anyway, I’ve returned with something slightly different: A Gojo fic. You’re welcome. Mwah. Also, please send messages I miss y'all. happy new year bbs. and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

It’s only your third time in Japan. The first had been to visit family friends when you were eight, the second for a girls’ trip after you graduated college. You liked it. Tokyo was bright and busy and full of shops and things to do. The countryside always offered beauty and peace. But this third time was different. No shopping, no temples, no amusement parks. You were here for business, not pleasure. 

You run a finger along the edge of a mahogany bookshelf. Your feet are killing you, a flick of your ankles tossing your heels across the room. Your nose wrinkles when you land on a particular title. The Art of War? Interesting choice… You scan the other books, and your brows rise when you find a strange combination of academics, young adult, manga, and high fantasy? A multi-genre reader, then��

You absentmindedly rub at the arch of your foot, pushing out the ache as best you can. A day so full of stress has left you weary. Your mother hadn’t stopped hovering until the moment you’d escaped into your car, a new husband on your arm. 

You sigh. You could still hear the shower running along with said husband humming loudly to a tune you didn’t recognize. At least your groom wasn’t shy. 

A glance toward the bed has your brows raising. Were those… squishmallows? One looked like a shark, the other like a… sushi? You press your lips together, avoiding a laugh he would surely hear. You make your way to the mattress, sighing when you finally get to sit. You pull the sushi into your arms, hugging the pillow to your chest, but it no longer seemed so funny anymore. You had bigger things to think about. Your legs press together in a mix of anticipation and anxiety. All the way from America you’d come to marry the Gojo heir. It had been a rushed arrangement. Apparently, the Gojo clan had finally put their foot down and decided their heir should finally get to the business of making another heir. There’d been a search far and wide for the best match and somehow, they’d settled on you. An accomplished sorcerer yourself and abilities in your blood that only strengthened those of the Gojo line, you’d been an suitable pick. It didn’t hurt that you were young, healthy, and (upon a trip to a renowned fertility clinic) proven to be very fertile. 

Your parents had been oh-so eager to accept the Gojo clan’s proposition. The Gojo heir’s power hadn’t been matched in nearly 400 years. Any and every family would jump at the opportunity to be tied to them, especially through marriage and heirs. You were surprised you’d been chosen considering all of the options there must have been. 

Satoru seemed… fine, you thought. You hadn’t had much time to talk with him privately. The first time you’d met had been on a phone call with both of your sets of parents present and the next had been at the altar. At one point in the night he’d asked a waiter to refill your wine glass and he’d been a rather good dancer. Other than that, you’d been pulled apart at all odds and ends until you’d come back here: his apartment. 

You’d expected something a little more lavish for your wedding night, especially considering the spectacle that your wedding had been. Ice sculptures, thousand dollar bouquets, and diamond encrusted wedding rings had turned to an elegantly decorated bachelor pad. A glance around revealed a space that was obviously lived in, with odd mixes of $10,000 dollar chairs and… squishmallows.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, eyes peeling over the half-moons of your nails and the heavy gems that now sit on the fourth finger of your left hand. They are a weight you feel the pressure of. A pressure to live up to expectations, to produce a much-desired product. 

A door opens down the hall and you realize the pounding of water and the lilting of a hum has ceased. Your husband is done with his shower. 

A few seconds later he reveals himself, prancing down the hallway and into his bedroom like it’s just another Tuesday and not his wedding night. A plush blue towel is slung low around his waist and from the rivulets of water running all over his body you judge that he hadn’t even taken the time to properly dry off. Not that you mind.

You’d known your new husband was beautiful but you’d never imagined he’d be so… so goddamn seductive. 

Washboard abs, toned arms, sculpted back, wet hair and icy eyes… he was the image of a god. 

“Sorry for making you wait. I really needed that.” 

Gojo prods at his temples, eyes squished shut in what looked like a moment of pain. You’d heard of this problem from the clan. He hadn’t worn his blindfold all day for the sake of the wedding. It was no wonder the effects were catching up with him. 

“No problem.” 

A small smile reveals just a few blinding teeth and you could swear your vision went out for just a moment. 

“You hungry?” 

You arch a brow. The man had eaten two full plates and practically half the cake not yet an hour ago. 

“Can’t say that I am.” 

“Hm.” 

He nods and you watch as he plucks a stray candy off his bedside table, tossing the wrapper to the floor. 

“So, uh-” You watch the butterscotch bulge in his cheek. “You really wanna do this?” 

You glance at your half-naked husband who is practically a walking temptation. You take a breath. He’s standing so casually, as if this is a normal conversation to be having and not something life-altering.

“You don’t?” you ask.

All that gets you is a shit-eating grin. 

“Never said that.” 

You can’t help the smirk that crawls across your lips. 

“Well, we might as well get it over with, no?” 

Another flash of pearly whites. 

“Get it over with, hm?” 

You miss his meaning, pulling at a loose thread on the bedspread. 

“It shouldn’t take much effort. I’m on so many fertility meds you could probably spit on me and I’d get pregnant.” 

You pick at the thread a little more, biting your lip when you realize it’s one of those strands that’s infinite. 

“That so?” 

You jolt when a speck of wetness lands on your cheek. A quick glance reveals a fuzzy blue towel far too close for comfort. A half-naked Gojo is a whole lot closer than he’d been just seconds ago. How is he so quiet? 

Blue eyes bore into yours, water dripping down white strands and onto your skin. He’s so damn tall. He has your neck craned all the way back just to meet his gaze. 

“Yes.” You swallow. “It was part of our prenup.”

Dazed. You’re absolutely dazed. 

“Well, we probably shouldn’t risk breaking a legally binding contract, hm?” 

Closer. He’s coming closer. Too close. 

You lean back, scooting yourself up the bed in a feeble attempt to get a little more space, your emotional support sushi tumbling to the floor. He follows right after you. 

Something primal thrusts through your veins at the sight of a man, sopping wet and smirking, crawling after you, some mix of teasing and pure drive hidden in his eyes. Gojo doesn’t stop, not until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard and his arms cage your waist. Close. Too close. 

You’d thought he would have dried a bit by now, but water still slicks off his skin and hair, showering you lightly. You shiver and your husband notices. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and you get a breath of the sweetness of butterscotch and mint toothpaste. 

“You say stop,” he breathes, “and we stop.”

He leans closer, so close you can smell the eucalyptus and myrrh of his shampoo, the musk of his body wash, the candied sweetness of his breath. Those piercing blue eyes flit to your lips and back up again. 

A breath, a pause. 

“Stop?” he asks. His eyes are piercing.

You shake your head. 

“Go.” 

Lips, teeth, tongue. All of it hits you at once. For a moment you’re too shocked to respond, but then his weight is leaning on you and his hand is on your waist and his mouth tastes like candy and- and then you’re kissing him back. 

A heavy hand digs into the flesh of your waist and your hands find a patch of damp white hair to tangle in. 

He tastes good- too good and when a deft hand guides you down to the mattress you start to think that this whole baby-making business might not be so bad after all. 

Teeth knock, tongues touch, and you are on the edge of what would have been a particularly throaty moan when he pulls away. 

His attention shifts elsewhere, kisses trailing down your neck and hands straying to your hips.

“Have you-” a kiss to your collarbone. “Done this before?”

You freeze.

“What?” 

Gojo raises his head a bit and the most irritating kind of smirk plays on his lips. 

“Don’t know- thought maybe this was a virgin for your super rich husband kinda thing?” 

You shove his head back down.

“Shut up.”

He chuckles and the sound vibrates against your skin. 

“Okay, sp no need to go slow then…” 

His lips continue their assault, brushing and grazing over your skin until it lifts with goosebumps. Your breaths come a little faster, a little heavier and you gasp when his hand curls beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Oh? What’s this?” His fingers brush against the garter that rests at the top of your thighs. Your cheeks heat. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why had you agreed to wear the damn thing? You reach down, hoping to quickly rid yourself of the scrap of fabric before you can become oven more mortified. You’re just about to clamp down on it when Gojo catches your wrist. “Ah, ah. No need to be so hasty.” Your hand is easily pinned down to the mattress and, for some reason, you don’t fight it. 

Your breath catches when your skirt lifts only for Gojo to dive beneath it without a second thought. You feel his teeth grazing across the skin of your thigh. 

“Gojo-” you breathe, squirming. 

His head reappears suddenly, another one of those mischievous grins gracing his lips. “Satoru when I’m about to be inside you, baby.” 

He disappears again and you gasp and wiggle when you feel his tongue laving across the inside of your thigh. 

His teeth graze you again, but this time they clamp down on the garter and you feel it slowly sliding across your skin, down, down, past your knee and eventually to your ankle where Satoru finally yanks it past your foot with a final tug. 

You stare at him, wide eyed and lustful. That had to have been one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. 

Satoru plucks the garter from his teeth and dangles it in front of his eyes. It’s a white, lacy little thing that matches the shade of his hair. He’s grinning again when he slides it onto his wrist like a bracelet– no, like a trophy.

“Thanks for the present.” He’s still grinning, still staring, his fingers still fiddling with the hem of your skirt. “How attached are you to this dress?” he asks. 

You blink, swallowing nervously, unable to break away from his gaze. It’s too strong, too mesmerizing. “Not… attached at all,” you manage. It’s true. Somebody else picked it out, and you’ve only been wearing it for about an hour– and it’s not like you can’t just buy a new one now with access to the Gojo bank accounts. 

His grin somehow grows even wider. “Good girl. Just what I wanted to hear.” 

There’s a splitting sound and suddenly your dress is tearing straight down the middle. It’s slow and controlled and you wonder if he’s practiced at this or if his strength is just that regulated. You find yourself hoping it’s the latter. 

The dress is ripped from your skin and you see it land somewhere across the room. You hear something shatter along with a thud, but Satoru seems anything but worried, so you ignore it. 

You’re bare in just your undergarments, a lacy white set that you’re now half proud of and half embarrassed by. 

Satoru whistles and his hands settle on your waist. “Damn, baby. Why’d you keep all this hidden for so long?” 

You scoff, your confidence surging. You reach for him, grabbing a scruff of hair at the back of his neck and pulling him close. “You’re the one taking your sweet time, Toru.” 

The sound of the nickname on your lips makes him shiver and you smirk triumphantly.

“Hmm…” is all he says as his fingers trail lower, lower, lower, until they’re dipping beneath the band of your panties. It’s somewhere between tortuous and ticklish and you squirm. “Ah, ah. Hold still for me, now.” He presses one hand to the valley between your breasts, holding you down as his other hand continues lower. When his thumb finds the wet spot on your panties and presses down your back arches and your breath escapes. 

He chuckles. “Little needy, aren’t you?” His thumb moves a little higher, grazing your clit, and you whimper. 

With one deft movement he unclasps your bra, tossing it aside. You register for just a moment that your chest is now completely bare, but soon enough his mouth is closing around your nipple and all else is forgotten. 

“S-Satoru!” you whisper. Your voice feels hoarse, even if it has no reason to be. 

His thumb continues its assault between your thighs. “So wet already, baby…” He sounds ecstatic. The grin on his lips makes you whine. “Let’s get these out of the way…” Before you know it, you hear more tearing and then cold air hits your cunt. You cry out when Satoru’s thumb returns to its ministrations, but this time there’s no cloth barrier to dull the sensation. Your hands push out and your nails curl into his bare shoulders. You need him closer.

“Satoru…” you breathe. “Kiss me…” 

That shit-eating grin returns, but he follows your command. “As my wife wishes.” 

When lips meet yours it’s hot and messy. Your nails claw down his back and you’re sure you’re leaving marks. If he minds, he certainly doesn’t show it.

His thumb continues at your clit as a finger prods at your entrance. When he slides in slowly, you gasp. He murmurs something about you being so sensitive, and proceeds to quickly find that gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. Before you know it he’s adding a second finger and soon your hips are rocking against his thrusts, meeting his pace as you chase your high. 

“God, you’re so wet.” he whispers against your lips. True to his word, he’s been kissing you, never letting up in his attack on your mouth. “Bet you taste like fucking heaven.”

You whine, your hips stuttering against his hand. “G-Gonna… I’m–” 

He grins again, and pulls away just enough to meet your gaze. “Go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” Your eyes flutter shut, your head rolling back– “Nuh, uh. Keep those eyes open. Wanna see every second.” 

Your breaths flutter and you whimper loudly, the sound bouncing on the walls. You’re not sure why you listen, why you fight to keep your eyes open, locked on him, but you do. Maybe you’re afraid he’ll pull away and leave you wanting… or maybe you just want to please him.

You feel your muscles clenching in your stomach, hear the sloppy sounds of Satoru’s fingers thrusting in and out of you, see the gleeful anticipation in his eyes. His thumb rubs a particularly delicious circle around your clit and you feel yourself thrown over the edge. 

You can’t help but be loud. You hold his gaze the whole time, whimpering and whining his name as you gush all over his sheets. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching, holding him inside, desperate to be filled. You hear him panting above you, like watching has somehow taken his breath away. 

“Good girl,” he whispers and you feel a second wave of pleasure ripple through you. 

You feel weak by the time your orgasm leaves you. Your muscles are limp and your cunt is so sensitive that you flinch when Satoru removes his fingers. He brushes a tear from the corner of your eye and you watch as he brings his sopping fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices clean. He moans, a deep throaty sound, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. You watch his eyes roll back in his skull, watch his throat bob as he swallows. Your lips part at the sight. 

His fingers fall from his mouth with a pop and his grin returns.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “Heaven.” 

He’s back on you in a second, licking a stripe from your collarbone to just beneath your ear. His hips slot between your own and a strong hands hook around the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. You whimper. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so completely and utterly exposed. 

“On to the main event, yeah?” The twinkle in his eye has your heart racing even faster. His fingers catch the towel that is somehow still wrapped snugly around his waist. With one tug, it’s gone and your mouth is watering in anticipation. 

Your jaw drops lower, if it’s even possible. He’s… huge. Long and pretty with veins that you know are going to rub just right. His tip is pink and leaking, ready. 

“Satoru, it won’t–” 

His lips connect to your pulse, licking and sucking when you feel him prodding at your entrance. “It’ll fit, baby.” 

He slides himself through your folds, gathering your juices and torturing you every time his tip bumps your clit. By the time he’s finally lining himself up, you’re practically begging. 

The first push is heaven. You’re both moaning when he prods past that first tight ring of muscle and you’re gasping, crying out his name and clawing at his back. He keeps pushing, filling you inch by inch until he’s pressed snugly against your cervix. You thank him aloud when he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of being filled to the absolute brim. He only kisses the tears from your cheeks. 

The first thrust has you seeing stars, little white spots clouding your vision. The second has your nails embedding in his skin hard enough to draw blood. He doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, it has him moving faster, grunting in your ear and whimpering your name.

“Sooo… f-ahh-ucking t-tight…” he whispers. 

A hand slides between your sweaty bodies, a thumb rubbing familiar circles against your swollen clit. You cry out, clenching down like a vice. 

“F-Fuck, princess.” 

His thrusts rock your body and the sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the air. You feel that familiar coil begin to form, to heat at your core. Your muscles tighten and your legs begin to shake. 

“Atta girl. Cum on my cock, baby.” 

You whimper at the praise, at the incessant rubbing of your clit, at the relentless pounding of your cervix. It’s all too much, too good. 

“Satoru…” you cry. Your legs burn and ache. Satoru has your knees pressed so tightly to your chest you’re afraid something might snap. It only adds to the tension beginning to unravel at your center. You feel as if you’re burning, as if you’re going to snap– and then you do. Heat unravels beneath your skin and your mouth falls open in a silent cry. Your legs tremble and your toes curl and you vaguely hear your husband whispering a mix of curses and praises in your ear. You’re still lost in the sensation when he starts groaning and you feel him flooding your insides with shallow thrusts close to your cervix, filling you with rope after rope of his hot cum. You’re still panting when you finally regain your mind. Satoru’s still on top of you, completely limp with his head buried in your neck. You curl a hand into his hair, silently holding him close. That was some of the most mind-blowing sex you’ve ever had. You smirk. Yeah, maybe this baby-making business wasn’t going to be so bad. 

You shiver when you feel Satoru licking and sucking at your skin. There’s a tenderness in the action that makes you pull him closer. He hasn’t even pulled out yet, but you can already feel him hardening inside you, ready for another round. 

“Think it stuck?” he asks. You smirk and answer with a breathy laugh. 

“Don’t know.” Silently, you think that there’s no way it didn’t. You can feel his cum dripping down your thighs and there’s just so much of it.

He lifts his head, eyes bright and sparkling even in the dim light. He grins. “Guess we’d better make sure.” 

~

With the rate at which Satoru fucks you it’s no surprise when you get two positive little pink lines a few week later. You tell Satoru by unceremoniously dropping the test in front of him while he’s drinking his morning coffee. He only grins and kisses you before he bends you over the counter, whispering something about needing to show you how appreciative he is when he slides inside you. The next morning you wake to Satoru’s lips on yours, a brand new credit card, and a new car in the driveway, fitted with all of the newest safety features (only the best for his wife and baby, he says). You sigh and smile when you see it. Yeah, this whole baby-making business definitely wasn’t so bad.

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[writtenbymoonflower]

Heyoo! How are you dove? Can I request more roommate!poly!marauders x shy!reader pleasee! Your fics have a special place in my heart

roommate!marauders is my drug <3 thanks for requesting hunny! fem!reader x roommate!marauders

cw: thunderstorms, poor boundaries with roommates

659 words

You didn’t realize the sheer volume of the downpour outside until the chatter of your roommates in the sitting room couldn’t be discerned over the pounding of raindrops reverberating off your window panes. You weren’t complaining, though. You were cozied under a multitude of soft blankets and fluffy pillows, your reading lamp emanating a soft glow onto the pages of your book, the smell of rain wafting into your room. 

That was until your lights slowly flickered a few times, before shutting off completely, leaving you in pitch black darkness. This was shortly followed by a shrill scream, then a crash, making your drop your novel. You untangled yourself from your covers, setting your book back on the bed, before venturing out. You held your hands in front of you as you stumbled around in the dark. You felt around for your doorknob, swinging the door open. You didn’t make it far before you tumbled into a tall torso and lanky limbs. 

“Shit, dove! Sorry! I didn’t see you there.” Remus blindly reached a hand out in an attempt to steady both of you. 

“It’s okay! I think that only raccoons can see in these conditions.” You attempted to joke. He rewarded you with a small chuckle. 

“Are you okay, though? You didn’t fall or anything?” You could hear the worry laced in his tone. It made your heart weirdly warm to know that he was concerned for you. 

“No, I’m all good.” You reassured. “Are you okay? I heard a crash.” You stepped further into the living area, carefully watching your footing. Remus chuckled again. 

“You wanna tell her what happened, lads?” His tone filled with unusual mirth. You could vaguely make out the forms of the other two boys in the dark. You heard Sirius grumble, though it was James who spoke up, much more timidly than typical.

“Well uh- we didn’t expect for the lights to go out, you know? Pads got a little spooked and screamed.” You could feel Remus shaking beside you with nearly-silent laughter. “And uh- Sirius spooked me, I guess. And then I dropped a plate.” He trailed off. Remus was now laughing loudly at his friends’ expense, but you could tell that there was no malice given or received between the boys, with them also joining in. You weren’t laughing, though. You resisted the urge to flounder over to James and check him for injuries. 

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” 

“No we’re okay, babydoll. It’s in the kitchen, we’ll worry about it later. Come over here, though. You’re gonna trip.” Sirius’ hand circled your arm gently, pulling you towards him and James. You weren’t sure what you were in risk of tripping over, but you let him maneuver you as he liked. You were startled by the sound of sparking, making you jump back into Sirius’ chest. 

“Sorry, lovely. Candles.” James set the soft, flickering light onto the coffee table. Remus appeared right beside you again. 

“You’re all jumpy, dove. Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus cooed as James lit another candle. You jumped again as another hand grazed your back. 

“Y-yeah.” The dark was very unsettling. Purple light flashed through the house, quickly followed by a loud boom! 

“EEK!” You weren’t the one who made the sound, but you were pulled onto the settee, tumbling on top of Sirius’ frame, face landing in his inky curls. 

“Christ, Pads.” James flopped down next to your tangled forms. He pulled you off to settle you between him and the high-strung boy. “You’re gonna kill her before the lease is up.” Another wave of thunder clapped through the house, this time Sirius only flinched. James pulled you closer to him in response. 

“Oi! I can’t help it. You know storms make me flighty.” He argued, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you back against him. “It’s okay though, I’ve got this dolly to keep me safe.”

[sometimescharlolette]

A MAN A MAN A MAN: Pedro Pascal x reader

Synopsis: You show the trend to your boyfriend and Pedro says he can do it. A/N: Hello pretty people, the video of this trend resurfaced on my TikTok and I thought about writing a cute nonsense with Pedro Pascal. I hope you like it, kisses 💜���

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You were nestled comfortably in Pedro’s arms, the warmth of his embrace making the couch even cozier. He flicked through channels absentmindedly, the movies passing in a blur as he searched for something to watch. Your head rested on his shoulder, your fingers scrolling through TikTok when a familiar trend appeared on your feed—'a Man a Man a Man.'

The video played, showing a man struggling to lift his girlfriend onto his shoulders before finally succeeding with a confident stance. You grinned, watching the playful chaos unfold. Judging these videos was a guilty pleasure of yours—silly but undeniably entertaining.

"What’s that?" Pedro’s deep voice rumbled beside you, his curiosity piqued as he peeked over your shoulder.

"Oh, it’s a trend where guys try to lift their girlfriends onto their shoulders," you explained, showing him a few more clips.

Pedro pouted, raising a skeptical brow. "And why wasn’t I invited to try?"

You chuckled, caught off guard. "I just figured you wouldn’t want to."

"Nonsense. I always want to do something that makes you smile." He booped your nose playfully, his warm gaze fixed on you. "Now show me again so I know exactly what I’m getting into."

You replayed the video a few more times until Pedro nodded, determined. He stood up, adjusting his stance behind you, his hands already resting on your waist.

"Alright, you give a little jump, and I’ll catch you," he instructed, his grip firm but gentle. You nodded, bending your knees slightly before jumping—not up, but forward. The force nearly sent both of you tumbling onto the couch.

Pedro let out a breathy laugh. "This time, jump straight up, love."

You giggled, nodding as he demonstrated the movement with exaggerated effort. "Got it!"

His hands returned to your waist, and this time, you pushed yourself upward with just enough force. Pedro caught your thighs, hoisting you up onto his shoulders. His cheeks tinged a soft pink as he steadied you, gripping your legs tightly to keep you balanced.

"You did it, love!" You beamed down at him, pride evident in your voice. Pedro, grinning, released one hand to flex his bicep dramatically.

"Baby, baby—" you started, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips as he shifted beneath you.

"Relax, I got this, honey" he reassured, and before you could protest, he spun you around in a slow circle.

"Pedroooo!" Your voice rose in alarm, fingers gripping the nape of his neck as you braced for the inevitable.

And sure enough—he stumbled. His balance wavered, and just in time, Pedro caught hold of you, carefully setting you down onto the couch before he lost his footing completely.He landed beside you with a breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

"Okay… maybe I don’t got this."You burst into laughter, collapsing against him as he wrapped his arms around you once more.

"That was terrifying and adorable all at once."

"Next time, we practice with pillows before" he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as the two of you dissolved into laughter again.

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: CHASING FOREVER

paige x azzi

word count: 7.5k

A/N: This is just something cute to start the week off because I might be a little busy this week!! A couple of people requested a one shot of them in the future so this is my attempt at that.

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Paige and Azzi had been best friends since they were teenagers, long before they ever set foot on UConn’s campus. Their bond had always been special, the kind of connection that felt easy from the jump, but somewhere along the way, friendship turned into something more. By the time they were dominating college basketball together, they weren’t just two stars—they were each other’s everything.

Winning a championship at UConn in 2025 was supposed to be their peak but their lives together were just getting started. The WNBA draft forced them to figure each other out more. Paige was taken first overall by the Dallas Wings, the future of their franchise, while Azzi landed with the Washington Mystics that same year, a dream come true for the hometown kid. It was exciting, but it was also a little heartbreaking. They were used to spending everyday together, sharing everything—practices, late-night talks, the weight of everything together with the other by their side. Then they were in different cities, on different teams, with different schedules.

For two seasons, they made the distance work. Texts, FaceTimes, and living together in the offseason and playing unrivaled together kept them connected, but it wasn’t enough. Paige tried to convince herself she could handle it, but the truth was, she couldn’t imagine building her future with Azzi from halfway across the country. She didn’t want to go half the year being away from the woman she loved anymore.

Requesting a trade and being adamant it was to Washington wasn’t an easy decision. Paige knew what it would look like. She wasn’t just any player—she was the former ROY, an Allstar, one of the centerpieces of a team that had just made it to the semi-finals. She knew there’d be backlash, that the media would question her loyalty, maybe even call her selfish. But none of that mattered to her. Azzi mattered. She always had. And Paige wasn’t going to let fear or criticism from people who didn’t know her stop her from choosing the person she loved more than anything in the world.

Present Day

The final buzzer echoed through Capital One Arena, signaling the end of the game: Mystics 78, Sky 70. The crowd erupted in cheers as the team playfully celebrated another win. After being ushered by the media personnel Paige and Azzi walked off the court, exchanging a quick smile before heading to the press room.

Now seated at the long table, microphones in front of them, the two of them fielded the usual postgame questions.

“Azzi, you really took over in the fourth quarter with those back-to-back threes. Can you talk about what was going through your mind in those moments?”

Azzi nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Honestly, I was just focused on staying in rhythm. Aaliyah and Shakira set some good screens, and I knew if I got the ball in my spots it was as simple as shooting in rhythm.”

“Paige,” another reporter chimed in, “you had a double-double tonight and were pretty dominant on the defensive end. How does it feel to be able to make such an impact on both sides of the floor?”

Paige leaned forward slightly. “Defense has always been something I take a lot of pride in. Azzi and I talked before the game about how we needed to lock down their guards, especially in transition, and I think we executed that really well as a team tonight.”

Another hand shot up. “This team has been on fire lately, winning six in a row. What do you think is clicking for you right now?”

Azzi glanced at Paige, letting her take this one. Paige smiled, shaking her head slightly used to Azzi’s interview antics at this point. “I think it’s just trust. We’re trusting each other, moving the ball, and staying disciplined on defense. Everyone knows their role, and when we play like that, we’re tough to beat.”

As the questions kept coming, Paige and Azzi fell into an easy rhythm. Years of playing together had made them naturals at complementing each other in every space they were in. Paige handled the deep technical breakdowns, always more of a nerd when it came to basketball, while Azzi added lighthearted quips that explained what Paige’s complicated breakdowns meant that drew quiet chuckles from the room.

It was in the middle of another question—one about the chemistry on the court of the young winning team who had a lot of noise surrounding them about being contenders—when a tiny voice cut through the air:

“Mommy!”

Both of their heads turned instantly, their attention snapping toward the sound like a reflex. Standing off to the side with one of the team managers was their daughter, Aliana, her custom Mystics jersey fitting her perfectly. Her curls were slightly messy, and her big, brown eyes—an exact replica of Azzi’s—were wide with impatience.

Azzi laughed softly, her expression melting. “One second, baby. Mommy’s almost done,” she said gently, her tone completely different from the way she was talking with the reporters.

Aliana’s lip jutted out in a pout, and Paige, never able to resist her soft spot for her daughter that looked exactly like her wife, sighed quietly. “Come here,” she said, her arms outstretched.

Aliana didn’t hesitate, rushing forward as fast as her little legs could carry her. Paige scooped her up, settling the toddler into her lap. Aliana immediately tucked her face into Paige’s neck, her tiny hands gripping her mom’s jersey for comfort.

The reporters murmured and smiled at the unexpected moment, some of them jotting down notes while others simply watched the family interaction. Paige adjusted the microphone slightly and continued answering questions, as if having a toddler nestled against her was the most natural thing in the world.

Throughout the rest of the press conference, Aliana stayed quiet, her big eyes peeking out from Paige’s shoulder as she watched Azzi’s every movement. The look of pure adoration on her face didn’t go unnoticed by the reporters, or by Paige, who couldn’t help but smile.

When the session finally wrapped up, Aliana started to squirm, her little arms reaching toward Azzi. Azzi took her without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, baby girl,” she murmured.

As the three of them began walking toward the locker room, Aliana’s excitement bubbled over as she was finally able to talk to her parents. “Mommy, Mama! You both did so good!” she exclaimed, her tiny hands clutching Azzi’s jersey.

Azzi smiled down at her, gently correcting, “We played well, sweetheart. But thank you.”

Paige rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Az, she’s three. I don’t think she cares about grammar right now.”

Aliana tilted her head curiously. “What’s...gramma, mama?”

Paige smirked, exchanging a playful glance with Azzi. “See? Exactly my point.”

Azzi chuckled, adjusting Aliana in her arms. “Grammar is something we’ll talk about later. But for now, what was your favorite part of the game?”

Aliana’s eyes lit up. “When you made the big basket! And then everweone clapped so loud!”

“That’s because she’s a sharpshooter baby,” Paige said. She reached over to brush her fingers through Aliana’s curls. “What about Mama? Did you see my block in the second quarter?”

Aliana gasped as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “Oh! I saw it! You were so tall, Mama! The other lady was like—” She mimicked someone getting blocked, throwing her hands in the air dramatically before collapsing back into Azzi’s arms with a giggle.

Paige laughed, her chest warming at the sight. “Exactly! They tried to say I wasn’t a shot blocker. Can you believe that?.”

Azzi grinned, jumping in to tease Paige. “But who was it that tipped the ball back to you to finish your highlight?”

Paige smirked, her tone matching Azzi’s. “Oh, you mean your assist? Don’t worry, sexy, we’ll make sure your highlight reel is just as good as mine.”

Aliana, not quite following the playful banter but enjoying the energy, threw her hands in the air. “Mommy and Mama are the best ever!”

Paige and Azzi both laughed as they reached the locker room. Azzi pressed a kiss to Aliana’s forehead, her heart full as she looked between her wife and daughter.

“You know what?” Azzi said, shifting Aliana slightly so Paige could open the locker room door. “She might be right.”

Paige grinned as she held the door open for them. “Can’t argue with that.”

…

After a quick clean-up in the locker room and changing into their clothes, they were finally ready to head out. At the car, Paige buckled Aliana into her car seat, making sure everything was secure while Azzi put their bags in the trunk. They both closed their respective doors at the same time and turned toward each other, smiling as their eyes met.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to pause, the two of them always taking time for just one another in their hectic lives. Without a word, they stepped closer, and Azzi’s arms slid up to wrap around Paige’s neck. Their kiss was slow and lingered for some time as they sighed into each other.

The sound of tiny hands knocking on the window broke their spell. It was barely audible, but they both heard it. Azzi turned her head, laughing softly as Paige glanced over her shoulder. The tented windows of her car made it hard to see inside, but they both knew who it was.

“Guess we’ve got an audience,” Paige murmured with a chuckle, reluctantly stepping back.

Azzi grinned, her fingers trailing lightly down Paige’s arm and squeezing her hand before letting go. “She’s impatient, just like her mother,” she teased.

Paige rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help smiling. She opened the passenger door for Azzi, who slid in with a quiet “Thank you,” before making her way to the driver’s side.

As Paige climbed into the car and started the engine, Aliana’s little voice piped up from the backseat. “Are we going to get ice cream now?”

Paige glanced at Azzi, raising an eyebrow in silent amusement at their daughter’s never ending energy. Before Paige could say anything, Azzi turned toward the backseat, grinning. “How can we say no to that pretty face?” Azzi said, making the little girl smile.

Paige shook her head with a small laugh, glancing at her daughter through the rearview mirror. “Ice cream it is,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips as Aliana let out an excited squeal.

When they pulled up to the ice cream shop, Paige backed the car into a parking spot and immediately noticed the small crowd spilling outside of the shop. A few fans, still wearing Mystics jerseys with the numbers 5 and 35 displayed, were chatting animatedly and glancing at their phones as they ate their ice cream. Azzi followed Paige’s gaze and gave a soft sigh.

“You in the mood for interactions today?” Azzi asked, as she watched Paige look down and scroll through something on her phone.

Paige paused, letting out a small breath. “Not really,” she admitted, rubbing her temple briefly. “I have a bit of a headache so I’m looking for–” she was interrupted as Aliana’s excited voice rang out from the backseat.

“We’re here, we’re here!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she looked out the window.

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. C’mon,” she said, giving Azzi a reassuring smile as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Azzi reached over to give Paige’s hand a quick squeeze. “Let me know if it gets too much,” she said, her gaze lingering on Paige’s face.

“I will,” Paige replied. “You worry too much.”

Azzi just smiled before stepping out of the car. Paige followed, walking to the backseat to unbuckle Aliana from her car seat. Their daughter immediately wrapped her small arms around Paige’s neck as Paige lifted her out, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Mama, hurry!” Aliana called to Azzi, who was near the open trunk of the car, adjusting her jacket.

“I’m coming bossy, I’m coming,” Azzi replied, laughing as she closed the trunk and joined them.

The three of them began walking toward the ice cream shop, hand in hand—Aliana happily swinging her legs as Paige carried her. Almost instantly, murmurs rippled through the small crowd outside as people recognized them. Phones came out, fans whispering excitedly to each other and pointing.

Paige leaned closer to Azzi and muttered under her breath, “Here we go.”

Azzi stifled a laugh, leaning slightly into Paige’s side as she whispered back, “You’re a people person, remember?”

“I said that one time,” Paige replied, rolling her eyes playfully. But she adjusted Aliana in her arms and smiled warmly at the fans as they approached, giving a small wave.

Fans immediately began to gather around them, their excitement clear as they approached the couple. A young girl wearing Paige’s #5 Mystics jersey held out a Sharpie. “Paige, can you sign this for me? You’re my favorite player ever!” she gushed, her voice trembling slightly with excitement.

Paige smiled warmly, shifting Aliana in her arms before taking the marker. “Of course. Thank you for coming to the game,” she said, as she quickly leaned down and scribbled her signature on the jersey.

The same fan asked for a picture so Paige handed Aliana off to Azzi so she could take a few pictures while Azzi signed things.

After a moment of this a teenage boy wearing Azzi’s #35 jersey held out his phone.

Azzi, can I get a picture with you? You’re a DMV legend, seriously!”

Azzi grinned, passing Aliana over to Paige and stepping closer to the boy. “Legend, huh? Big shoes to fill,” she joked, posing with him for a quick photo.

In Paige’s arms, Aliana giggled as she clung to her mom’s neck, watching the behavior of the fans curiously. After Azzi returned from taking a few pictures, Paige handed Aliana over, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Your turn,” Paige said with a playful smirk.

Aliana squealed happily as Azzi lifted her, settling her on her hip. A group of women in their twenties approached, each holding printed out action shots of Paige and Azzi. “You two are literally couple goals! Can we all get a picture of you together?” one of them asked excitedly.

Paige gave a polite smile, gesturing subtly toward Aliana. “We’d love to, but we’re keeping this one out of fan pictures for now,” she said, nodding at her daughter.

“Totally understandable, we can do single pictures if that’s ok” one of the women said, her tone genuine. “But you two are amazing together—on and off the court.”

“Thank you,” Azzi replied, her smile widening as Aliana reached up to mess with her hair, giggling again. “We appreciate you guys supporting us.”

The interactions continued for a few minutes, with fans asking for autographs and photos, Paige and Azzi trading Aliana back and forth every so often so she wouldn’t be in any random instagram pictures they couldn’t control. Each time they exchanged her, Aliana burst into giggles, delighted by the little game they seemed to be playing.

Eventually, Aliana leaned in close to Paige’s ear, her tiny fingers tugging at her mom’s face to push it towards her. “Mama, I want ice cream now,” she whispered.

Paige chuckled, nodding slightly before looking over at Azzi. “We’re on borrowed time with the princess here,” she said, flashing her wife a look.

Azzi turned to the fans with an apologetic smile. “Thanks so much, everyone, but we’ve got one very impatient ice cream lover here,” she said, gesturing to Aliana, who was now laying her head dramatically against Paige’s shoulder.

The fans laughed, stepping aside to let the family through. “Enjoy your ice cream!” one of them called out as Paige and Azzi finally made their way into the shop, Aliana perking up instantly at the sight of the brightly lit display of colorful scoops.

As soon as they reached the counter, Aliana wiggled excitedly in Paige’s arms, her big brown eyes lighting up as she pointed at the rainbow sprinkles on display. “Mommy, I want rainbow sprinkles!” she yelled with the kind of enthusiasm only a three-year-old could muster.

Azzi laughed softly. “Whatever you want, baby girl,” she said warmly, glancing at Paige with a smile.

When they reached the front of the line, the teenage boy behind the counter greeted them with wide eyes, clearly recognizing Paige and Azzi. “Oh wow, you’re… uh, you’re Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd, right?” he stammered, barely able to keep his composure.

Paige smiled politely, nodding. “That’s us,” she said.

As the boy’s gaze lingered on Azzi a little too long, Paige subtly shifted closer to her, sliding her free arm around Azzi’s waist. Azzi smirked at the gesture, her eyes sparkling with amusement at Paige’s antics as she leaned into Paige slightly.

“What can I get for you?” the boy asked, his voice cracking just a bit as he tore his eyes away from Azzi and focused on the display.

Azzi laughed softly before answering. “We’ll take one vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles for her,” she said, gesturing to Aliana, who was practically bouncing in Paige’s arms. “And…” She glanced at Paige, raising an eyebrow. “What are you in the mood for, baby?”

Paige gave her a playful side-eye before turning to the boy. “Just a scoop of chocolate for me, in a cup.”

“And I’ll take a scoop of strawberry in a waffle cone,” Azzi added, her smirk widening as she glanced at Paige. “Anything else, love? Maybe some whipped cream for your jealousy?” she teased quietly for her to hear.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Just order the ice cream, Azzi,” she said, shaking her head as the boy quickly began preparing their order but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her.

Paige noticed, her eyes catching the way he fumbled slightly with the scoop in his hand, his gaze still lingering on Azzi a little too long for her liking.

Azzi, oblivious—or perhaps simply unfazed—continued speaking to Aliana. “Rainbow sprinkles, huh? Great choice, baby girl,” she said, her lips curving into a smile that made the boy freeze mid-motion.

Paige shifted her weight slightly, stepping closer to Azzi. As she did, her left hand casually rested on the counter, the silver band adorned with sparkling diamonds catching the light perfectly. She pretended to adjust her watch with her other hand, ensuring the boy’s eyes couldn’t miss the ring gleaming on her finger.

“Everything okay over there?” Paige asked as her gaze flicked to the boy, who quickly snapped back to attention.

“Oh—uh—yeah!” he stammered, now flustered as he scrambled to scoop Aliana’s ice cream. “Sorry, uh, what flavor did you want again?”

Azzi glanced at Paige out of the corner of her eye, biting back a smirk as she caught on to what was happening. “Vanilla,” she said smoothly. “With rainbow sprinkles, please.”

The boy nodded quickly, focusing entirely on the task at hand now. Meanwhile, Paige leaned a little closer to Azzi, her arm brushing against hers. “You know,” she said, “it’s funny how some people forget to focus on their job and not a pretty married woman.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, her hand instinctively resting on Paige’s lower back. “Jealous of a teenage boy, are we?” she teased quietly, glancing at Paige with a raised brow.

“Not jealous,” Paige replied, though the playfulness in her eyes betrayed her. “Just making sure everyone knows what’s off-limits.”

Azzi laughed at that, her own left hand rising to brush a stray hair from Pagie’s face, conveniently flashing her stacked engagement and wedding ring in the process. The hard to miss diamond caught the light, and the boy’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red as he hurriedly finished their order.

“Here you go!” he said, setting all the ice cream down on the counter. “Enjoy your day!”

“Thanks,” Paige said, her smile sweet but tinged with satisfaction as she took the cone and handed it to Aliana, who squealed in delight as Paige handed the boy a $50.

As they walked toward a nearby table, Azzi leaned into Paige, her voice low and teasing. “You’re ridiculous for being jealous of a teenage boy, you know that right?”

Paige grinned, slipping her arm around Azzi’s waist. “I wasn’t jealous. Just appalled.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing as they settled at their table.

As they sat in the booth, Aliana was perched comfortably on Azzi’s lap, her small hands carefully clutching her cone, she was completely engrossed in devouring her ice cream. Paige sat beside them, her arm draped over the back of the booth. She chuckled as she noticed ice cream starting to drip down Aliana’s chin.

“Hold still, baby girl,” Paige said, grabbing a napkin and leaning over to gently wipe Aliana’s face. “You’re making a mess.”

Azzi laughed softly, glancing at Paige as she swiped her spoon into Paige’s barely-touched bowl of ice cream. “You know, if you’re not going to eat this, I might as well.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Help yourself, thief. I didn’t realize you ordered two desserts.”

Azzi took a dramatic bite, savoring it. “What can I say? Your ice cream always tastes better than mine.”

“That’s because it’s mine,” Paige shot back. “If I wanted to share, I would’ve gotten a bigger bowl.”

Azzi shrugged, unbothered, and took another bite. “Guess you’ll just have to stop me then.”

Paige leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Oh, trust me, I will.”

Azzi leaned in and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Paige’s smirk deepened as her eyes flicked down to Azzi’s lips licking her own. Azzi raised an eyebrow silently asking her what she was going to do about it. Before their game could escalate, a small voice broke through their moment.

“Mama... Mommy,” Aliana said, her voice drawing their attention. Both women turned to look at her, their teasing forgotten.

Aliana tilted her head up, her big brown eyes wide and innocent, her dimple peeking through as she smiled up at them. Her face was smeared with vanilla ice cream, and a tiny portion sat on the tip of her nose.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh as she reached out to gently swipe the ice cream from her daughter’s nose. “What is it, princess?”

Aliana grinned, holding up her sticky cone proudly. “This is the best ice cream ever!”

Azzi chuckled, pulling back her daughter’s curls into a ponytail so she wouldn’t get ice cream in her hair. “Yeah? You think so, huh?”

Aliana nodded enthusiastically, her giggles bubbling as she looked between her moms. “But... I think you love each other more than ice cream.”

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look, both breaking into warm laughter. Paige leaned over, pressing a kiss to Aliana’s sticky cheek. “You’re not wrong, pretty girl.”

Azzi smiled, wrapping her arms more securely around Aliana and resting her chin lightly on her daughter’s head. “But you’re our favorite, even more than ice cream.”

Aliana beamed, her dimple deepening. “Good! ’Cause I love you both more than ice cream too.”

Paige’s eyes widened in playful surprise, her blue eyes sparkling as she leaned in closer. “Oh wow, that’s a big deal. You sure you can commit to that?”

Aliana nodded enthusiastically, her face lighting up with pride. “You guys are my favorite-est!”

Azzi shook her head in amusement as she reached down to wipe Aliana’s face. “Ana, baby, you don’t have to add the -est at the end.”

Paige chuckled, her hand resting on Azzi’s as she teased, “Maybe she’s just really emphasizing it for dramatic effect.”

Aliana giggled, her little face scrunching up with the effort to understand. “I just really reawly love you guys!”

Paige smiled warmly, pulling Aliana closer to kiss the top of her head. “We really really love you too, princess.”

Azzi kissed the other side of Aliana’s head, her voice soft. “You’re our whole world, baby.”

Aliana snuggled into her moms, her ice cream temporarily forgotten, a happy contentment washing over her. “I love you soooo much,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

…

Later that night, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Paige had just finished putting Aliana to bed while Azzi was in the shower, taking some extra time to wash her hair. The bathroom door opened, and steam flowed out as Azzi stepped into the bedroom, her hair still damp.

Paige, already sprawled out on the bed in her pajamas, let out a low, playful whistle. “Well, damn,” she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Shut up hornball,” she muttered, though her tone was affectionate.

“Is she asleep?” Azzi asked, rubbing a towel through her curls as she made her way to the dresser.

Paige nodded, her eyes following Azzi’s every move. “Out like a light,” she replied, leaning back against the pillows.

Azzi finally tossed the towel aside and turned toward the bed. The warm glow from the bedside lamp bathed the room in a soft light as she climbed onto the bed, settling herself over Paige to straddle her hips resting her hands on Paige’s stomach.

Paige���s gaze softened, her hands instinctively resting on Azzi’s waist. It always amazed Azzi how her wife looked at her as if she were the most breathtaking thing in the world, even after all these years.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the silence filled with a comfortable warmth as they took in each other’s presence after their long day. Then Azzi leaned down, her damp curls cascading to one side as her lips met Paige’s in a kiss.

Paige sighed into the kiss, her thumbs brushing lightly over the fabric of Azzi’s shirt where it rested on her hips. Azzi pulled back slightly, her brown eyes meeting Paige’s. “Are you tired?” she asked softly.

Paige shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “No. You?”

Azzi mirrored her response with a small shake of her head. “No,” she murmured, leaning back down to plant soft, lingering kisses along Paige’s neck.

Paige closed her eyes, her breath hitching as Azzi’s lips trailed over her skin. Her hands instinctively tightened their hold on Azzi’s waist, pulling her just a little closer.

When Azzi found a particularly sensitive spot, she bit down gently, eliciting a low groan from Paige. Azzi chuckled softly against her skin, her breath warm as she said, “You gotta be quiet.”

Paige mumbled, “Yeah, yeah I will.”

Azzi smirked, pressing another kiss to the same spot she’d bitten, satisfied with the way Paige’s body responded. “You always say that,” she mumbled, her lips brushing against Paige’s skin as she continued kissing her neck, “but then you’re not.”

Paige let out a soft scoff, her hands gliding up Azzi’s sides. “You don’t really have room to talk.”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, lifting her head just enough to shoot Paige a look. “Whatever,” she muttered before trailing more kisses down Paige’s neck, taking her time to savor the moment but also moving with a little quickness having been interrupted the last few times.

Paige’s breathing grew heavier as Azzi moved lower. Paige’s hands slid to rest on Azzi’s shoulders, grounding herself as the warmth between them grew.

Azzi paused, sitting up briefly to tug off her shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her damp curls framed her face as she leaned back down, her lips now traveling further down Paige’s body.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in Azzi’s curls as she tried to keep herself composed. Her jaw tightened, her chest rising and falling a little more rapidly as she fought to stay quiet.

But just as Azzi reached Paige’s waistband, a small, sleepy voice called out from the other side of the door. “Mama?”

Paige froze, her eyes snapping open as her hands flew up to cover her face. She groaned quietly, the sound muffled by her palms.

Azzi stilled, dropping her forehead to Paige’s stomach with an exasperated laugh. “Of course,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with slight amusement.

Azzi sighed, still resting her forehead on Paige’s stomach, reluctant to move and completely let go of the moment. She stayed where she was, just in case whatever was happening on the other side of the door resolved itself quickly.

Without lifting her head, Azzi called out, “Yes, sweetheart?” her voice is gentle but carries through the room. She knew Paige might need a few more seconds to gather herself before speaking.

There was a pause before Aliana’s voice called back, recognizing Azzi’s voice. “No, I want Mama!”

Paige let out a soft laugh, running her hands over her face one last time before lowering them to her sides. She looked down at Azzi, who was still sprawled against her with a small grin.

They both chuckled before Paige finally yelled, “What’s wrong, baby?”

The answer came almost immediately, and they could practically hear the pout in Aliana’s voice as she replied, “I wanna sleep with you.”

Azzi sighed again, this time with a mixture of amusement and defeat, her lips curling into a smile. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s lips before sitting up. “We tried,” she muttered, a playfulness in her eyes.

Paige smiled, watching as Azzi stood and moved to open the door. Azzi scooped Aliana up effortlessly, cradling her against her chest as she walked back toward the bed. Aliana, as if on cue, practically threw herself into Paige’s arms, a loud giggle escaping her.

It was always amusing to Paige and Azzi how, at times, their daughter would make up her mind so suddenly about who she wanted to hold her. One moment she’d reach for Azzi relentlessly, the next, she’d be crying over Paige, with no rhyme or reason.

“Mommy, where’s your shirt?” Aliana asked innocently, her wide brown eyes filled with curiosity.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh. “Mommy was hot,” she replied easily, raising an eyebrow as she climbed back into the bed with them.

Aliana scrunched up her little face and pouted slightly, “It’s cold in here.”

Paige grinned at her daughter’s observation. Without warning, she tickled Aliana’s sides, causing the little girl to burst into uncontrollable giggles. The playful sound filled the room as Aliana squirmed in Paige’s arms, losing her train of thought.

Paige laughed along, her heart swelling with the simple joy of the moment, before she finally relented and stopped. “Alright, alright time to go to bed, smartie pants,” she teased, kissing the top of Aliana’s head before leaning over to kiss Azzi softly.

Azzi, smiling at the interaction, reached over and turned off the lamp, the soft glow of the room now replaced by the darkness of the night.

Aliana, still giggling a little, settled onto Paige’s chest, her tiny body relaxing as she snuggled in. Paige gently pulled her thumb out of her mouth, trying to encourage her to break the habit early.

After a moment, Paige pulled Azzi closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips. The softness of Azzi’s body against hers was grounding, like a constant she never wanted to let go of.

Aliana, not to be left out these days, huffed in a mock-disgruntled way, pulling Paige’s face toward hers and giving her a small pout. “No kissing, Mama. Only for me” she said, making Paige and Azzi laugh softly at the interruption.

“Goodnight, princess,” Paige whispered, talking to Azzi but kissing Aliana’s forehead.

“Goodnight, my love,” Azzi added softly, leaning over to place a quick kiss on Paige’s cheek.

The room fell quiet, except for the soft breaths of their daughter as she drifted off to sleep while Paige and Azzi laid there mumbling to each other quietly about everything and nothing.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up alone, the large bed beside her empty. She stretched, groggily pulling the blankets around her as she lay there for a moment, her hair sprawled across the pillow in soft tangles. The quiet morning settled around her until the sound of Aliana’s voice reached her ears from downstairs.

“I want Mama!” her daughter’s voice rang out, followed by Azzi’s, a little gentler, “Mama’s sleeping, baby. Patience, remember.”

Paige smiled to herself at the sound, but then a sudden clatter broke the peace, and Azzi’s voice, a little louder now, called out, “Aliana Bueckers you know better!” Paige couldn't help but chuckle softly under her breath at her wife’s tone.

Paige groaned softly and stretched again, dragging herself out of bed. She quickly pulled her hair into a messy bun and shuffled to the bathroom to brush her teeth before heading downstairs.

When she walked into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was Aliana, sitting in her high chair with tears streaming down her face, clearly upset. Azzi was standing by the stove, holding a spatula, her back slightly turned toward the table.

Before she could process much else, Aliana’s arms shot out toward her, wailing, “Mama!”

Paige’s heart twisted but she immediately moved toward Azzi first, gently taking the spatula from her hand. “I got it, baby,” she said softly, planting a quick kiss on Azzi’s lips, “And good morning, beautiful.”

Azzi smiled at the affection, her eyes soft, but Aliana’s whine grew louder, impatient at the attention between them. The little girl reached for Paige desperately, her arms outstretched. Lately, whenever Paige showed Azzi any affection, Aliana seemed to try and push Azzi away, saying, “No, Mommy!” as if she couldn’t stand the idea of sharing Paige’s attention.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound of Aliana’s jealousy endearing despite the chaos it created.

Azzi sighed and smiled, stepping back slightly. “You don’t have to baby. I got it.”

Paige kissed Azzi one more time, murmuring, “Go, relax. I got this.” Azzi didn’t argue this time, offering Paige a smile before walking out of the kitchen.

Paige turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake before going over to Aliana, her arms opening to gather the little girl into her arms. “Hey, baby girl,” Paige whispered softly, kissing the top of her head and calming her down with gentle rocking.

It took a few moments, but soon enough, Aliana’s tears subsided, and she relaxed in Paige’s arms. Paige smiled down at her daughter, brushing a stray curl from her forehead before speaking again.

“You need to apologize to Mommy, pretty girl,” Paige said softly, her tone a little more serious.

Aliana whined at the idea, her lower lip trembling, but Paige’s voice remained firm. “Aliana.”

Reluctantly, Aliana stopped whining, looking up at Paige with big, innocent eyes.

“You love Mommy, don’t you?” Paige asked gently.

Aliana’s eyes immediately brightened, and she nodded enthusiastically, her dimple popping out as she grinned. Paige’s heart melted, and she gave her daughter another kiss on the forehead.

“Exactly,” Paige replied. “And you did something you weren’t supposed to, baby.”

Aliana’s face fell, a small pout forming on her lips as she looked down at her hands.

Paige’s voice was gentle but insistent as she continued, “What did you do wrong, sweet girl? Can you tell me?”

Aliana’s pout deepened, and her little eyes glistened with the start of more tears thinking about it. In her three-year-old words, she hesitated for a moment before speaking up, her voice tiny. “Threw fruit... momma made me... and I’m not posed to…”

Paige hummed, nodding as she listened. “And why is that bad, baby?”

Aliana looked up at Paige, her bottom lip quivering as she answered in her best logic, “I need to be gwateful... and use my words…”

Paige’s heart swelled with pride as she listened to her daughter’s simple but important understanding. She nodded, her smile tender. “Exactly, baby.”

She gently wiped away Aliana’s wet cheeks, smoothing her hair back. “You don’t need to cry, sweet girl. You’re not in trouble. You just need to understand why what you did was wrong.”

Paige carefully lifted Aliana onto the counter. Aliana’s small face remained serious for a moment before it softened into a look of understanding.

“There’s no need to cry, okay?” Paige reassured her gently, resting a hand on her daughter’s back. “We just want you to learn, so you can be the best girl you can be.”

Aliana gave a small nod, her lips still pouting but her little body relaxing into Paige’s touch.

Paige helped Aliana down from the counter. The moment her feet hit the ground, Aliana ran, her little legs moving fast as she darted toward the living room. Paige smiled as she watched her daughter, the sound of her bare feet slapping against the floor filling the house.

Azzi was sitting on the couch, a book in her hands, but she immediately looked up when she heard Aliana’s excited giggles. She put the book down and smiled, watching Aliana’s wild morning hair bounce with each step.

Aliana clumsily climbed up onto the couch, her tiny hands grabbing at the cushion before she scrambled into Azzi’s lap, her eyes wide and sincere.

“I’m sorry for doin’ somethin’ I’m not posed to,” Aliana said, her voice a little jumbled as she tried to get the words out. “I love fruit... I pwomise I’m gwateful mommy.”

Azzi’s heart melted as she smoothed out Aliana’s wild curls. “It’s okay, sweet girl,” she whispered, kissing the top of Aliana’s head.

Aliana’s face lit up at the words, her little dimple popping out as she looked up at Azzi with wide eyes. “You not mad at me?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “I could never be mad at you.”

The two of them stayed there for a while, Aliana nestled comfortably in Azzi’s lap, watching her as Azzi continued reading. Every so often, Aliana would try to “read” the book too, her eyes tracing the words, but it was clear she was more focused on mimicking Azzi than actually recognizing the text. She’d point at random words, saying them as if she understood, but it was all just part of her little pretend game.

The warmth of the moment wrapped around them both until Paige’s voice cut through the quiet. She stood at the entrance of the living room with a smile.

“Breakfast is ready, bookworms,” Paige called out.

Azzi and Aliana both looked up, Aliana’s face breaking into a grin. “We coming, Mama!” she giggled.

Azzi smiled at Paige, before giving Aliana a gentle squeeze. “Come on, baby, let’s go eat,” she said, helping Aliana slide off her lap and stand up.

Aliana, still holding onto Azzi’s hand, ran ahead toward the kitchen, giggling all the way. Paige watched them go, her eyes full of love, before she followed them into the kitchen,

They sat down at the kitchen table, the morning light streaming through the windows, casting a soft glow over the scene. Aliana, sat between her two mothers, clasped her hands together in front of her. Her small voice was a little jumbled as she started her prayer, mimicking the words Paige had taught her.

"Th-thank you for mommy, and mama... and... food..." Aliana stumbled through the words, her little brow furrowing as she focused hard, trying to remember everything. Paige and Azzi both smiled down at her, their hearts swelling at the sight of their daughter trying so earnestly.

When Aliana finished, she looked up at them with her big brown eyes, full of innocence and pride for having made it through her prayer. There was a brief pause before, with no warning, Aliana grabbed both of their heads and pulled them together in a surprise move.

Paige and Azzi blinked in shock, but before they could react, Aliana giggled, her tiny hands pushing their faces together. “Kiss!” she demanded with a smile.

Caught off guard but amused, Paige leaned in and kissed Azzi softly, the light touch between them full of affection. Aliana beamed at the sight, her dimple deepening as she witnessed her parents sharing the love she had so often seen and now randomly enjoyed.

With the kiss over, Aliana clapped her hands together, clearly satisfied with the result, before turning her attention to the food on the table.

"Yay!" she cheered, reaching for a fork, eager to dive into her breakfast.

Paige and Azzi laughed softly, their hearts light as they both picked up their utensils.

…

Later that day as they walked back into the house, the weight of a long practice settled around them. Both Paige and Azzi had already showered, their muscles still buzzing with the remnants of the workout.

Aliana, as usual, had run herself ragged in the practice facility. The little girl had spent the better part of the session darting around, mimicking the moves of the older players, laughing as she tried to keep up with them. By the time they’d made it home, she had passed out cold in Paige’s arms, her tiny body nestled against her mom’s shoulder. Paige walked carefully, trying not to disturb her, the soft weight of Aliana’s breath against her neck lulling her into a sense of peace.

They reached Aliana's room, and Paige gently laid her down on the bed, pulling off her shoes and tucking the blankets around her. She lingered for a moment, brushing a few stray hairs from Aliana’s face and kissing her forehead softly.

Turning to Azzi, Paige smiled softly. “I’ll grab our bags from the car, baby you can go relax,” she said, her voice warm, filled with the ease of being home.

Azzi returned the smile, but before Paige could step away, Azzi pulled her closer, cupping her face with both hands and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss started slow, tender, but quickly deepened as Azzi shifted the energy between them. Paige’s lips parted in surprise as Azzi’s hand slid down her back, pulling her closer, the heat of their bodies radiating through the air.

Azzi’s lips hovered against Paige’s, breath warm as she whispered, “Meet me in the room when you’re done.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat as Azzi pulled back, her hands moving to strip off her shirt, revealing the toned muscles of her back. She turned around swaying her hips with an effortless confidence as she walked toward their bedroom.

Paige stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide as her mind raced to catch up with the sight before her. The sight of Azzi’s back, the way her body moved with such natural grace, sent a jolt of desire through Paige. She blinked, her heart pounding, before shaking herself out of her daze.

Without a second thought, Paige turned and practically ran down the stairs, eager to finish what she'd started.

By the time Paige reached the top of the stairs again, her breath still uneven from her run, her eyes searched the room for Azzi. She found her, of course, sitting on the bed. The sight of her wife in their private space, in their sanctuary, made the rest of the world feel distant. Paige closed the door behind her, her voice slipping into the room with. “Can’t wait, huh?”

Azzi, hearing the door close, looked up slowly. Her eyes locked onto Paige’s, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "You better hurry up," she teased, her tone drenched in that sultry, warmth that always made Paige’s pulse quicken.

Paige couldn’t help but smile, a gleam in her eyes. “Trust me I’m taking my time with you today,” she murmured.

Paige’s fingers brushed against the hem of her shirt, swiftly yanking it over her head, her eyes never leaving Azzi's. Paige lingered for just a moment, hovering inches away from Azzi, the heat between them building as if the room itself could feel the anticipation.

Without warning, Paige grinned, using her strength to roll them both to the side, pulling Azzi on top of her. Azzi’s laughter bubbled up, a sound Paige adored. The weight of Azzi’s body on hers sent a surge of warmth through Paige’s chest as she didn’t hesitate to pull Azzi closer, her hands sliding firmly to her wife’s hips, giving her a playful tug. Azzi’s lips met hers in an urgent, desperate kiss, their mouths moving together in sync, catching up on all the little moments they'd missed.

They slowed the pace, savoring each kiss, each touch, as if they had all the time in the world, and for the night, they did. The world outside their bedroom felt far away, and even though their daughter slept soundly just down the hall, Paige and Azzi had carved out their own world in that moment just like they promised to always do when they said their vows.

[cybergirrll]

coming home

hamzah x reader (fluff)

hey guys!! this is my first little one shot on here (sorry it’s so short😮) i used to write for someone else but kinda stopped doing that a while ago. i love writing tho and i noticed the lack of hamzah fics soo here we are!! enjoooy

the soft sound of rain pattered on the dark windows as you slowly creaked open your apartment door. the living room was empty and quiet. hamzah’s cat red jumped off of the kitchen counter and trotted over to you, purring as she rubbed against your legs. you squatted down to pet her, smiling softly.

the warm, diffused glow the few lamps in the living room emitted washed a sense of calmness over you, a relief from the bright fluorescent office lights you sat under all day. your head hurt from computer screens, deadlines, and annoying co workers. you just wanted to see your boyfriend.

“where’s your dad, huh?” you cooed softly to red, giving her one last pat before you stood up, placing your bag on the counter before making your way into the bedroom.

hamzah was sitting at his desk, his curls messy, sweater a grey-ish blue matching the light that reflected off of his glasses. his brow was furrowed, focused on the email he was typing, faint muffled music sounding from his headphones. you smirked, slowly creeping up behind him.

he nearly jumped out of his chair when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind, your laughter muffled against the soft cotton of his sweatshirt. “jesus,” he whispered, taking his headphones off.

“hi.”

“that scared me. i almost passed out.”

“don’t be dramatic.”

you glanced at his screen and realized he was in fact not writing an email, but grinding away on level 50 of some random typing game. “working hard on that?”

he chuckled, prying him off of you so he could spin his chair around, sitting you on his lap all in one swift motion. “yeah, i was gonna impress you with my awesome typing skills. i was bored, i missed you.” he smiled, brown eyes dark and sweet in the ambient lighting.

you gave him a quick kiss, a hand tangled in his curls as he spun the chair back around, facing his desk. blue jumped up onto the desk, a paw landing on the keyboard, unpausing the game and filling the type bar with a slew of jumbled letters. a big red x popped up on the screen, with an option to restart the level.

“are you kidding me…” hamzah groaned, picking up blue with one hand and giving him an angry kiss before setting him on the floor. you grinned, laying your head against his chest.

hamzah kissed your forehead. “how was your day?” his voice held a tone of sweet adoration to it now, slipping strands of your hair in between his fingers and watching as they slipped out of his grip and cascaded back onto your shoulder. he gently swept away your bangs so he could see your eyes better. “it was okay. stressful,” you mumbled, feeling safe and content.

“yeah? wanna talk about it?”

“not really, i just wanna be with you.”

“alright. yeah. that’s okay.”

hamzah smiled, still completely not over the fact you loved him, he didn’t think he would ever be.

rain torrented down on the window at a fast pace now, a pumpkin candle on the nightstand flickered and reflected onto the window, revealing the droplets of water against the dark night sky. red was asleep on the foot of the bed now as blue swatted at something invisible on the floor.

you felt completely at peace now that you were home.

[bluekidchaos]

Silco x Reader

i have nothing coherent to say but i've been rotating this man inside my mind like a microwave dish for a week straight and need it out of my system, so here is huh, sucking silco off while he smokes

Pairing: Silco x Reader

Warnings: 18+, blowjobs (turns into face fucking??), pet names (pet, love, dear), hinted dacryphilia, dirty talking (mix of praise and degradation), boot humping (huh ?? what ? who said that, guys i think there's a ghost here), no use of pronouns but female parts mentioned

Words: 1.5k

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

silco coming back to the last drop after a meeting with the other chem-barons notably frustrated, huffing and muttering under his breath about "imbeciles and morons"

as he sits himself down in the big leather chair behind the desk trying to light a cigar but the lighter won't work in his angry grasp, getting him on edge even more until he throws it across the room in a fit of rage

you sigh as you get up from your position on the couch, so far seemingly unnoticed by the man, and pick up the lighter

making your way over to the desk silco finally looks up at you, his eyes softening a little when they land on you, you perch at the edge of it and hold the lighter up to him

he puts the cigar up to the flickering light and takes a long drag before exhaling, already feeling more relaxed as he inhales the tobacco. silco leans back into his chair and takes another slow drag while looking you up and down closely

"bad meeting?" your foot coming up to rest in between his spread thighs on the chair, the question of what he needed from you unspoken but understood

he grunts in response, "bad week overall.." the hand not occupied with holding the cigar lands on your foot, stroking up and down the expanse of your calf giving you your answer

almost like it was instinct you slide down from the desk and down on your knees in front of him, now trapped between him and the desk

his hand comes down to stroke a stray strand of hair back behind your ear and you nuzzle your cheek into his warm palm

silco leans down in the chair to your level, nose almost touching yours, "how about you make me forget what a bad week it was, pet?" the heavy smoke envelopes your senses for a second before you jump into action

you start by slowly dragging your hands up his thighs, letting one hand graze over the bulge in his tight pants while the other comes up to unbutton them

silco raises his hips slightly off the chair to help you lower his pants and underpants for easier access while you grab his cock out of its confinement, giving it an experimental stroke you hear silco gasp above you

the hand left on your cheek moves around your head and tangles in your hair, his eyes never leaving yours as you finally lean forward and lick his entire length

when you reach his tip you stay there giving soft kitten licks, you make sure to keep eye contact with silco while doing it, you loved seeing his reaction while you pleased him

his grasp on your hair tightens a bit and he sucks in a sharp breath as your tongue flicks at his tip, you can tell he's about to chastise you for teasing him so before he can get a word out you take his full length into your mouth, well as much as you can at least

silco finally breaks the eye contact, throwing his head back with a grunt as you take him down your tight throat, "fuck, good pet"

the pet name makes your pussy throb and you can't help but to clench your thighs to try and create some friction

he lets you set the pace at first, bobbing your head at a comfortable pace while letting one hand stroke what doesn't fit in your mouth, you trace your tongue along the veins decorating his dick and give his tip a couple of flicks whenever you come up for air

the hand not occupied with helping your efforts travel up his shirt, letting it rest against his stomach, using your nails to scratch at him from time to time to aid the sensations and you can feel him shiver under your touch

silco is now completely relaxed in the chair, head leaned back and cigar in his unoccupied hand, inhaling and exhaling thick smoke, the almost indifference he shows you makes you even more turned on somehow

to anyone else, it would look like he's ignoring your efforts but you know him better, the hand clenched in your hair, the heavy breathing, and the few noises that escape him give away how this is really affecting him

you decide to tease him more, not going down fully this time, just keeping the tip in your mouth to suck on while your hand jerks him off lazily while looking up at him

silcos head snaps down to look at you, his eyes burning with desire and frustration, "now, now, pet.." he growls out at you, "let us not get lazy when you were doing such a good job before" he adjusts the grip on your hair to a makeshift ponytail before searching your eyes for consent

you give him a small nod and try to smile up at him but he presses your head down on him fully now, nose pressed into his pubes, and holds you there

he leans his head back again and lets out a low moan at the feeling of your throat constricting around him, he revels a bit in your small struggle, the feeling of one hand scratching his stomach and the other desperately clinging to his thigh before letting you up for air

when he finally pulls your head up you take a deep breath and cough, you try to blink the tears clouding your eyes away so you can meet his gaze

silco groans at the way you look up at him, lips red and swollen, tears running down your cheeks, but it's the way you smile up at him that has him throbbing for you

he pulls your head down again, this time setting a brutal pace that has you barely catching your breath and you can't stand it anymore, the ache between your thighs is getting too much and you need something, anything

you whimper around his cock, the vibrations send a jolt of electricity up his spine, you look up at him and try to make a pouty face, which considering your mouth is stuffed full of his cock is pretty hard

silco knows your every expression however and you get your point across either way, he chuckles at the desperation in your eyes, "hm, poor you, need something to soothe you? is my cock in your mouth not enough for you?" he mocks you

but he moves one of his legs between your legs and you feel yourself get wetter at the display, "there, there, pet, make yourself feel good while i use your throat as i please"

you can feel your cheeks heat up at his words, you can't believe this is happening but you're honestly too turned on to think about it for too long before you roll your hips against his boot

the feeling of finally getting some friction against your clit makes you moan around his cock and you roll your hips again and again and again before you've set a pace likewise to the one silco is guiding your head at

silco was already close but the vision of you brings him to the edge, eyes closed and tear-stained cheeks while you were humping his boot, your noises muffled around his dick but the vibrations are making him go crazy

you feel yourself getting closer to ecstasy with every roll of your hips, you're sure you've made a mess on his boot by now but you couldn't care less, all you could think about was dragging your tongue around silcos cock while his hips meet your face and humping his leg like an animal in heat

both of you could tell the other is close now, you hollow your cheeks around him and that's enough to bring him over the edge with a shout, emptying himself into your mouth and you try to swallow every drop of him but there's too much and it spills out and around his cock

the feeling of your mouth tightening even more as if that was possible makes silco tense and he pushes his leg into you more, putting unexpected pressure on your clit just as you made contact with him again and you feel yourself being pushed over the same edge, warmth spreading through your whole body as you ride out your orgasm

silco carefully lifts your head off of him after a little while and you take a deep breath again, you start coughing as some of his cum slides down to wrong pipe

he rubs and pats your back until you've calmed down and brings you up into his lap, letting you curl up against him as you both catch your breaths, "thank you dear, are you alright?"

you snuggle into him more as he brings his jacket over you as a makeshift blanket, you can feel soreness in your jaw and thighs creeping in but you were too tired to care right now, "hmm, sore, tired"

silco smile agaisnt your head before giving it a quick peck, "rest my love, i'll be here when you wake up to take care of you" and with the sound of his smooth voice whispering in your ear you finally fell asleep

[jamespotterismydaddy]

The Wolf's Betrothed

dark!aemond x niece!reader

summary: prepare to be kidnapped by your delulu uncle

A/N: this is based off a request that asked for non-con so this is the closest i've written to it but i still think it's dub-con??? idk pls lmk what you think

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, incest, smut, knife kink, blood kink,, breeding kink, forced marriage, murder

word count: 1,929

You feel content. Cregan Stark is a good, honourable man and he will make a fine husband, is what you continue to repeat in your head as your carriage makes its way to Winterfell. You travel without your family, being sent early to meet your husband to be and you’re nervous. You met few Northernmen on Dragonstone and you fear the cold, but you know it’s for the best. This alliance could be the thing that puts your mother on the throne. Though, as you get closer to your destination, a sense of dread begins to set in. 

That’s when you hear it, the beating of wings, shortly followed by screaming. The carriage comes to a halt so swift that you’re thrown from your seat.

“Princess!” One of your handmaidens exclaims as she helps you back up.

“I-I’m alright.” You say as you find your footing. You make your way to the door. “We must go.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the guards?” The other girl says nervously.

“They’re as good as dead.” You say as you throw open the door. Your men that are left, fight for their lives against the few green soldiers. They don’t need many when they have a dragon. You glance up to the sky and see her… Vhagar.

“Fuck.” You murmur as you hop to the ground, your handmaidens on your tail as you begin to run towards the forest.

You pant as you go, trying not to trip on your long skirts, snow filling your boots. You know you need a plan but the only weapon you have is a small dagger and you’ve never been a great talent in hand-to-hand combat.

You’re close to the treeline now, barely 200 yards away. You know Aemond won’t torch it if he thinks you’re in there. All you have to do is make it. To. The. Treeline.

But you don’t. It goes up in flames in front of you and you have to turn and shield your face from the heat. Your handmaiden, who was in a much less elaborate dress than you, made it further, and she goes up in flames with it. You turn, grabbing the hand of the other girl and begin to go south before you see three men waiting for you. You turn north and begin to run but you don’t make it far before Vhagar lands in front of you.

“No…” You breathe out as you backup, your handmaiden clinging to your arm. You know you’re caught now.

Two men catch up to you and grab you each by the shoulders, giving you no time to draw your dagger as Aemond descends his dragon.

“Dōna mandianna.” (sweet niece) He says as he approaches. “Sepār hae gevie hae nyke mōrī ūndan ao.” (just as beautiful as I last saw you) He tilts your chin up gently.

“Release my bride. You can do as you wish with that one.” He says to his guards as he glances at your handmaiden. The two men grab her.

“Princess, help me!” She cries out as she’s taken away.

“She’s no threat.” You say to your uncle, glaring up at him.

“My men deserve a reward.” He says offhandedly and you begin to wish she had died in the fire as well. You wish you died in the fire. His hand comes up to caress your face. “I have missed you.”

“I miss my brother.” You say with hate in your eyes.

“Hmm, an unfortunate circumstance.” He replies.

“Kinslayer.” You spit out at him.

He sighs and puts his hand on the small of your back. He is courteous with you, for now, as he leads you toward Vhagar. You let him, biding your time. He straps you in in front of him, his fingers gentle with you, as if you are the most precious thing he has ever laid his hands on.

No chance to jump then. You think to yourself, wishing you could’ve taken him with you once Vhagar was high enough to make the fall fatal.

You don’t speak to each other as he takes you closer to Winterfell. You look solemnly at the scorched land. It’s a pity to see, especially since it is the start of Spring. It should have been the start of new life, not the end of it. He holds his hand out to help you down the dragon and you accept it, glad that he chose not to make you grovel. You know he could. You know he’s not above such things. He keeps his hand on the small of your back as he leads you through the castle, the place crawling with Greens.

You arrive at Lord Stark’s chambers, Aemond letting you in. You’re slightly surprised when you don’t see Cregan but you think perhaps that your uncle is keeping him in the dungeons instead. “And what of my husband?” Aemond freezes when you use the word. 

“That cunt wasn’t your husband.” He says lowly.

“Wasn’t or isn’t?” You ask, not fully believing that he would kill the lord of Winterfell. You back up slightly. Aemond may be in front of the door but you wish to put some distance between you.

“I would not let them trap you with that mutt.” He says as he steps forward. You step back. “You deserve someone worthy of your status.”

“Aemond…” You breathe out, your eyes well with tears.

“It was always meant to be you and I. I’ll take care of you… I love you.” His eye gleams, his words full of possession.

You’re aware that you’ll only have this one chance so you reach for the sheathed dagger. You know you can’t kill him, but you can break him. You lift the blade to your throat in one quick motion but it’s too late, Aemond’s hand is on yours before you can break skin. He yanks the dagger from your hand and throws it to the side.

“Why would you do that!” He looks manic, frightened as he holds your wrists in his hands.

“Cregan!” You cry out as a last resort. You know it’s futile but it’s the only thing you can think of. “Cregan!”

Your uncle slams a hand over your mouth, hot rage in his eyes. “Stop screaming for him! He’s dead! I killed him.” His other hand falls to your waist. “If it is a husband you yearn for, I can fix that.” He takes the hand off your mouth to grab his own dagger.

“I don’t want any husband. I want him!” You slam your fists against Aemond’s chest.

“No you don’t!” He shouts back and he shifts behind you, pulling your back to his front, holding his dagger to you with one hand and your chin with the other. “It is that silly feminine loyalty. But don’t worry, it will be towards me soon enough.” 

He holds your face tightly and lifts the dagger to your lip, cutting ever so gently. Just enough to get a drip of blood. He lets you break yourself free and run to the door so he can slit his own lip. You yank on the door handle but it’s locked and before you can even turn, Aemond’s hand is in your hair, pulling your mouth towards his. The kiss is messy and bloody but by Old Valyrian standards, you are wed. Your uncle barely gives you a chance to come up for air as he slips his tongue into your mouth. You whimper slightly as he sucks on your lip, mixing your blood further. 

“You didn’t think I was going to bed you without making you my wife first, did you?” He says so softly, the kind look in his eyes misplaced. “I would never do that to you.”

“Please don’t.” You beg him.

“Why must you look so frightened? I only want to make love to you, to my bride.” He moves behind you, nimble fingers undoing your dress. “I don’t like it when you fight with me. I want us to be happy.” He tugs the gown down so you’re only in your shift. Just the sight of your ankles, your shoulders is enough for him to go crazy with lust. He can feel himself growing in his trousers the longer he looks at you. “My beautiful girl, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” (my bride) He coos, mesmerized by you.

You’re pulled in for another kiss and you nip at his lip. He groans as he parts his mouth from yours.

“Be gentle with me and I shall do the same with you.” You know it’s a warning, a warning that you should most definitely heed. “We will have more time to play later, darling but for now, we must consummate immediately.” He says as he leads you to the bed by your hand. He places a palm on your tummy. “I shall pray to the Gods’ that my seed takes tonight.”

“Of course, husband.” Your voice is emotionless but he still seems pleased by your words.

He smiles and then lifts off your shift. His cold fingertips trace over your breasts and collarbones, and down to your navel before he hooks them on your small clothes and pulls them down. “Your beauty is unmatched, my love” He says as his eye runs over your body. “Lie down on the bed for me.” He watches you walk and obey as he undoes his trousers. Your husband doesn’t take any of his clothes off, only pulling his cock out and beginning to pump it as he gazes at you. You’re nervous as he is incredibly well-endowed but you are inclined to believe that he won’t be rough with you.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He says as he climbs between your legs, noticing your fear. “It won’t hurt for long.” He takes a moment to rub his cockhead over your cunt, using his precum as lube before slipping in.

You gasp at the intrusion, the feeling of your maidenhead breaking as he defiles you but he doesn’t move at first, only peppering kisses across your face that are almost… comforting?

“I’m going to move now.” He says and begins to slide in and out, causing you to wince.

“Not yet, it hurts…” You say to him but he just runs his thumb over the cut on your lip.

“You can take it, darling.” He replies as he thrusts in and out of you. He licks the blood off his thumb before using it to rub your clit. You hate how you enjoy the feeling. “Good girl.” He says as he begins to pick up speed. He rubs harder, clearly far too close to cumming himself and not wanting to be the only one. “I love you.”

You turn your head away as he says it and he begins to fuck into you harder, pinching your clit now and causing you to scream. If he can’t make you love him, then he can just make you cum. 

As soon as he feels you begin to squeeze your walls around him, he finishes, sheathing his cock as deep as he can inside of you in hopes of breeding you.

“My perfect wife.” He admires as he runs his fingers through your hair. He presses a kiss to your lips before resting his head on your breasts so he can listen to your heartbeat.

You lie there, confused. Part of you wants him to fuck you again, the other part hopes he falls asleep so you can drive his own dagger through his heart.

Oh the woes of newlyweds.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 7 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[hushedlover]

Can i request a Mike Schmidt who actually got good sleep but his baby sitter/new found crush looks like she was hit by a train and he’s like “just sleep here” and his own thoughts come in with “take my bed.” (Which she tries to deny)

The sound of the front door closing and keys landing in the dish on the foyer table woke you up. You peeked your head over the back of the couch to look at Mike. He’s peeling the security vest off but for the first time ever he looks like he’s slept a full night.

“Hey. Abby still sleeping?” He calls over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Too early for her to be up,” you call back. Something in your voice sets off alarms for Mike. He glances back at you and sees you staring off into space, unfocused eyes blankly settled on the back of the couch. There are deep bags under your eyes and your hair is a hot mess, looking like you’d been tugging at it all night.

“You okay?” He calls tentatively. That gains your attention. Your eyes snap up and focus on his face. Immediately you send him an unconvincing smile as you stand from the couch. You begin gathering your things, keys and bag, while heading for your shoes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just- just tired. You seem well rested though,” the smile you shoot him this time is genuine, a softer version of your usual one. “I’m glad. You need the sleep.”

You drop your keys as you’re getting your shoes on, cursing and bending to grab them. Some part of the action through you off balance, and the next thing you know your butt is firmly planted on the hard wood floor. A dull pulsing pain emanates from the point of contact with the surface and you drown, looking down at the floor accusingly.

“Okay, come here,” Mike grunts as he slides his hands under your armpits. With a quiet groan from both of you, he hoists you to your feet. You stumble and regain your balance before looking up at Mike.

“Thanks,” you mutter as heat floods your cheeks.

“No problem,” he says, his brows furrowed slightly. You go to reach for your keys that are seated in his hand, but Mike pulls them back. “Listen, you’re exhausted. I don’t really want you driving home right now. Why don’t you sleep here?”

More heat rises in your face and you shift on your feet nervously. His face is close, almost too close to yours, his brown eyes demanding your focus and attention. His light scruff is distracting, so are his lips, and you almost get lost in them before remembering to respond.

“Oh no, Mike. I’m fine, really. I wouldn’t want to intrude, plus I’m sure Abby will want to watch TV and I don’t want to take over your couch,” You stutter and trip over your words as you try to rush them out.

“What do you-? Oh! No, no I meant like,” you swear you can see red tint his cheeks as his eyes dart away from yours for a second. “I meant sleep in my bed.”

Both of you go silent and stare at each other with wide eyes for a second. You distantly wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in your chest. Or maybe see your pulse jumping in your neck. Suddenly, Mike snaps out of the stupor.

“Not like that! I mean- No, I um, I mean I’m not gonna be using it since I’ll be up and I just washed my sheets and stuff so-“

You choose to save him from his own suffering.

“I would actually really appreciate that.” Just on cue, you yawn softly. “I think I’d be a hazard on the road and I don’t want that to be on your conscious.”

You send him a sheepish smile, hoping he detects the humor in your tone. He must, because his face lights up in a grin. You squeak in surprise when Mike suddenly squats in front of you, gently grabbing your foot and slipping off the one shoe you managed to get on. He stands and helps you shrug off your jacket.

You distantly register the sound of your keys crashing into the tray as Mike leads you down the hall and towards his room. His hand on your elbow is a warm comfort as he guides you to sit on the mattress. He tugs the blanket loose and gently pushes you down. You blink up at him sleepily as he pulls the blanket up to your chin.

“Stay as long as you need. Really. You do so much for us. Just… rest. Yeah?” He smiles down at you and right now you could swear he’s an angel. You feel your lips quirk up out of reflex and your hand reaches up, but you stop yourself before you can brush his cheek.

“Thanks,” you whisper softly. It’s hard to keep your eyes open now. The pillows, the sheets, the blanket, everything smells like Mike and it’s making you delirious. It’s a weird comfort, like Mike is actually holding you in his arms. The smell gets stronger and you want to open your heavy eyes to see why, but the feel of slightly chapped lips against your forehead tells you why.

That’s the last thing you register before sleep drags you into its clutches.

[trulyumai]

care for me?

pairing: Messmer the Impaler / Wife! Reader

synopsis: exhausted, you try to stay up for the arrival of your husband. only he doesn’t come back the same man.

wk: 1.1k

warnings: mention of death, violence. mostly fluff

A/N: EJ come, water! (no seriously enjoy Messmer lovers) this was a request, thank you for the suggestion anonymous!

Enjoy!

It was so cold.

Dreary winds busted across the little home, invading the shack with freezing temperatures that nipped at one’s bones.

The girl of said residence could not battle such a feat alone; so she lay bundled up in many cottons and wools that cascaded her form just in front of the fire pit.

With her teeth clanking together, she drew in a particular large blanket that seemed to swallow her whole being.

She was trying— attempting, to stay away for her husbands arrival.

“He— he will be here soon,” giving herself words of comfort, little fingers smoothed over the skin of her arm.

Back and forth they went, seeking any form of warmth they could gather.

But, she was getting tired. It had been hours since his departure.

So, with a defeated huff, her lashes fluttered.

Eyes now shut, her form slumped against the wooden boards.

Maybe she could greet her doting husband upon the fields of dreams

Everything went wrong.

His mother… his own mother…

A cry, weak and low left Messmers lips as he shuddered in pain—agony.

Instead of telling the citizens, the people what had been done of the shadow lands of between, his mother lied.

She blamed the knight of flames for his part in the destruction. Blamed him for the plans, the deaths, the innocent lives gone—

“O, Mother!” Just outside the home, Messmer sat. His head tilted towards the ground in shame as his long nails twisted and pulled at his cheeks.

Blood seeped down almost instantly, yet he couldn’t find the energy to care.

Tears streamed down his face in waves, meeting the bloody patches along the way.

His nails tore and scratched at any skin that came in contact, only making his wounds worse.

“Does thou… not perceive mine own consciousness?” A yellowed Iris glanced forth upon the house.

His home.

Only now realizing he made it back, a shudder ran through him.

“Wife,” he whimpered. “Please… forgive me.”

Only the sound of wind greeted his ears, as his now bloody and weakened form pushed against the stone. Slowly making his way to the wooden door merely a foot away.

The flowers lay dormant, the fields around him lay bare and dead. Much like the lands he left behind his wake.

With bodies, upon bodies—

“Augh! No more!” With a slam, the door receded against his strength, banging out against the wall behind.

The ball of blankets jumped up in surprise, a head peeked out from the warm egg shaped cocoon the girl placed herself in.

Messmers eyes softened upon such a sight, he couldn’t help but let out a little smile seeing the girls attempt to warm herself.

“little wife,” he called. Already on his way to the girl sitting about the floor.

“husband!” she cried, reaching out her hands to signal for the man’s embrace.

He gladly accepted, sweeping her into his arms and cradling her head soothingly.

“I’ve missed you,” little sweet kisses dotted across his neck, to his jaw and up the face.

“What— what happened?” Her lips met with a red and open wound, to which the flame winced at.

He had forgotten about such a display.

“It’s nothing, dear wife,” big palms rubbed along her sides. “an accident, nothing more.”

Fear began to corrode his mind, it crumbled and tore at the seams of sanity.

People will come for him.

For his betrayal, his slaughter.

His wife— gods what has he done?

A hand pulled him back, it was soft and careful as it cradled the man’s left cheek.

“It’s okay,”

She didn’t know what was wrong, only that something was amiss.

For the man was troubled, that much was clear.

“I… listen closely, my heart.” Setting her upon the ground he looked down at her form, so much smaller than his own.

His back had to bend uncomfortably to meet her gaze but he ignored such pain.

Big palms surrounded her face, angling her eyes to meet with his.

“We need to go, does thou need anything before our leave?”

“Leave?” She shrieked. “This is our home… why would we leave so—“

“Please, please wife understand me so. I cannot dote on such a matter yet but please.” A desperate yellowed eye looked upon both of hers

“I will protect thee. With mine own blade, with mine own body. But we need to leave, most ardently”

Confused and somewhat scared, the girl could do nothing but nod her head. Even when he placed a mirage of kisses upon her, she did nothing but look upon the man.

Almost as if to study him— understand him.

Soon, she was lightly pushed into the direction of their room.

“Grab what thy can carry and need.” Messmer had said.

So she did.

She grabbed her favorite blanket, the one that had been with her since birth.

She grabbed her jewelry box that lay full of gifts from the knight.

And finally, she grabbed the last vials of homemade oils. Lavender scented, which always seemed to calm her husband down whenever it graced her soft skin.

Seeing his wife’s hands full, Messmer acted. Gently picking her up, the objects shifted about as a bridal style posture was given upon her.

Head now bumping with his armor with every movement, she decided to speak.

“Are you alright, husband?”

This was an opening.

A pristine opportunity to tell her of his forthcomings.

Of his tidings with his mother.

Of the burning lands.

Even of the soon to be castle that will be there home for god knows how long.

Messmer only looked down, peacefully admiring his wife so.

“Everything will be fine, my wife. Thou can sleep while the travel begins.”

He was a coward. Biting down upon his cheeks blood ran across his tongue, to the back of his throat.

Past all the lies and short comings, two thing stay true; he adored his wife

and he would do anything to protect her.

[dirtyvulture]

Pandora's Box

Tomb Raider!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Enchantress!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: Natasha has spent years hunting the elusive Pandora’s Box, which many say doesn’t even exist. What happens when she not only finds it, but accidentally unleashes the sinister force hiding within?

Word count: 1736

AN: The people have asked, so I have delivered. Thanks to the anons for inspiring this one. Enjoy! :)

Image courtesy of @natromilf 

“Shit!”

The curse word echoes in the chamber, making Natasha feel like for once she’s not alone. She jumps back, barely in time for the ground beneath her feet to crumble and fall away into the dark abyss. She doesn’t even hear them land, surmising she must be several hundred feet above sea level now. Her path lit by the heavy but powerful headlamp strapped to her forehead, she moves more cautiously now.

“Latvia? Really, Nat?”

“It’s a beautiful country,” she defends, pushing Clint’s legs off the desk where he had his boots resting on her world map. “Besides, Slorenia doesn’t exist anymore. But historians say Latvia is one of the countries that absorbed it after the war in 1624.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little too obvious to search Slorenia or Latvia or whatever the hell it’s called now?” Clint asks. “Surely someone else has already gone looking there.”

“But I haven’t,” Natasha says. While her ego did go to her head sometimes, there was no denying she was one of the greatest archeologists and explorers of the modern day. With her years of research and experience, and a kickass team to support her, few ancient mysteries had stumped her yet.

But this one–the Pandora’s Box, as it was known in the archeological community, had sent Natasha spiraling for years. While the name was inspired from the Greek myth, there was discourse between scholars on how much of the story was rooted in reality. Natasha was deeply fascinated by its rich and dark history, and despite the protests from her team that she was chasing a fairytale, she continued to search for clues and leads.

She was determined to prove its existence and uncover the story behind it. If anyone was qualified to do that, she was.

The cave is humid and wet, but the air is heavy and fresh, as if there were not many living creatures to inhale it. Natasha feels more at ease as she hikes through the cave, marching along at a steady pace and keeping away from the edge of the narrow path that borders a cliffside. 

She’s unsure how deep the cave goes, or if she’ll even find what she’s looking for, but she’s certain she isn’t here by accident. Her teammate Steve had found an obscure news article dating a few years back of three Lativian teenagers who went exploring an unmarked cave, but were spooked out by a woman’s voice begging them to “set her free.” A team of police ventured in, but the cave was simply too large to conduct a proper search in a reasonable amount of time. No woman was ever reported being found in the cave since.

Natasha halts when her beam of light reveals a stone bridge, with a near ten-foot gap in the center. There’s no other way forward besides going back, and she doesn’t want to waste time with that. She tightens the straps of her backpack and practices taking a few large steps, then jumping off her right foot, bunching the muscles in her calf and thigh. 

She has one chance. 

A regular person would just turn back, or maybe use a rope to cross the gap. But not Natasha. She kept herself in superior physical shape for these adventures and had full confidence in her abilities. She goes up to where the bridge ends, peering over the edge for fun, and her stomach flips at the height of the drop. 

She can’t see the bottom.

Adrenaline pumps into her muscles and she mentally steels herself for the jump. She counts back six steps from the edge, taking a deep, calming breath, then runs full-tilt towards the gap. On the sixth step, she launches herself over the abyss, aiming to grab the exposed rebar jutting out like gnarled teeth on the other side. Her gloves protect her hands from scraping, but she stops with more impact than she anticipated and the rebar slips right through her right hand.

Her bodyweight tries to drag her down into the abyss, but she refuses to let it win. Staying calm, she finds a new hold amongst the rubble, shoving at it aggressively before she trusts it to hold her. With both hands now properly anchored, she slowly eases herself up and crawls onto the remains of the bridge, her heart pounding so hard against her chest she can see the visible thumping.

She drinks a few sips of water from her pack before she feels oriented enough to continue, more motivated than ever. 

“It can’t actually exist,” Steve says, sipping from a glass of Coke while Natasha and Clint nurse beers. “I mean, we’re talking about witchcraft. Supernatural stuff. There has never been scientific evidence for it, anywhere in the history of the world.”

“This could be the first then,” Clint says. He was always more of a believer than Steve was, but that was why Natasha liked working with them both. 

Steve shakes his head. “What makes this mystery so different from the others?” He directs his question to Natasha. “You’ve spent years looking for Pandora’s Box. I’ve seen you pass over cases in just a few months because you don’t think it’s worth pursuing. What makes this one different?”

Natasha stares into her beer as the white foam melts away. She wants to give him an articulate answer, but the truth is, she doesn’t really know. She was a second-year student in college when she was first introduced to Pandora’s Box, and had been intrigued ever since. Did it hold the solution to world peace, or was it just another instrument of destruction?

Natasha’s legs are heavy from the effort of an additional hour-long hike since she jumped across the gap in the bridge. She stops only to refuel with some protein bars and more water. She doesn’t know how much longer she should go on for until it’s time to turn back. As much as she’d like to, she can’t explore this cave forever. 

She comes to a fork in the path and contemplates her decision. The right path is open, and leads around a bend she can’t see after a hundred feet. The left path is covered by a rock ceiling barely above her own height.

“Go left.”

Natasha obeys the voice in her head without further hesitation. 

“They called her the Enchantress,” Clint reads from the textbook. “That much scholars can agree on. Everything else is pretty much up for debate. Some say that she could fly, move objects with her mind, or even tell other people what to do.” 

“All nonsense,” Steve dismisses. “No human being can do any of those things.”

“They never said she was human,” Natasha points out.

“Then what else could she be?” Steve asks. “A god? A witch?”

“An enchantress,” Clint repeats, slapping his hand on the textbook for emphasis.

“No such thing,” Steve insists. “She was just some poor kid who got killed in the war, and then the locals made up stories about her to scare invaders. And future historians, because no one can seem to agree on what really happened or where she ended up.”

Natasha clicks her tongue; she hates it when Steve simplifies the facts, even if they are accurate. But that isn’t the whole truth and they both know it. Natasha wants to learn who the “Enchantress” really was and if there was any justification to the horrors that made up her life.   

The narrow path suddenly widens into a large, circular room. In the center, is a pedestal, conveniently highlighted by a ray of sunlight pouring in through a hole in the ceiling. Natasha feels her stomach clench when she eyes a box atop the pedestal, barely bigger than a laptop, wrapped in rusting chains and intricate carvings. She tries approaching with caution, but the pull of curiosity is too great and she rushes to the pedestal for a closer look. The box is made of wood, the chains metal, and the engravings are painted over with gold.  

Natasha has enough sense to survey the room for any hidden doors, windows, or even people, before she touches the box, but she seems to be alone. She picks up the box delicately, wondering if the transfer of its weight will set off a trap. 

Nothing happens.

Tucking it against her chest, Natasha notes it’s not as heavy as she thought it would be, but the significance of what it might hold weighs like a metric ton on her mind. She steps away from the pedestal, and feels a tile depress under her foot.

A volley of rusty arrows shoot out of the wall from either side of her. A sharp pain radiates from her left thigh and her leg buckles. She throws her arms out to brace her fall and watches with immediate regret as the box tumbles to the floor faster than she can catch it. 

The box lands on a corner and Natasha hears the wood crack. The chains might as well have been for show at the way they disintegrate and the lid flies open. A blinding light white fills the room and Natasha curls into a ball on the ground, her eyes squeezed shut.

“Enchantress.” Natasha hears a soft whisper, so faint she thinks she’s imagined it. She’s too scared to open her eyes and curls up tighter. 

“Pretty little thing,” the voice says, with a slight accent she can’t place. “Thank you.”

Natasha swears a hand, solid and hot, presses against her cheek for a moment, leaving her skin burning. Then the white light extinguishes as suddenly as it appeared. She hesitantly cracks one eye open, then the other.

She’s still alone in the dark, damp room. Blood soaks her pant leg where the arrow tore through her flesh. The box lays open, empty, next to her. She touches her cheek, which is flushed with heat but she’s unsure if it’s from her own blood flow pounding beneath her skin.

The silence feels never-ending as she sits there, staring at the box. She can’t believe she dropped it, but more so that it was completely empty. Or was it? Natasha knows something is wrong, an unexplainable shift in her gut that she can’t interpret in the moment.

She quickly bandages her leg, then reaches for the box, closing it up pointlessly and limping out of the cave.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Just wrote something short to test the waters, so let me know if you'd like me to continue :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 12,907 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, domestic violence and abusive relationship (reader and her partner—some description of minor injuries, threats, intimidation, verbal abuse, coercion, control), descriptions of injuries after infliction, violence, angsssst, happy ending

You glanced back over your shoulder. Daryl copied the action the next moment, checking to see how close the ragged looking group of walkers behind the two of you were. “We should probably take care of them before we get a real herd going,” you said, stepping over some brush. You loosened your knife in the sheath at your hip.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “Prob’ly.” He started to raise his bow to his shoulder and revolved in place.

You fully withdrew your knife. You turned back too now, shoulder to shoulder with him. “Do you want the group in the front or in the back?” you asked, shaking your hair out of your eyes.

Daryl firmly planted the grip of his bow into his shoulder and fired at the walker in the lead. The bolt swooshed through the air and landed with a satisfying thunk in the head of the walker in the lead, just below the left eye. “I’ll take the front,” Daryl drawled.

You gave him an appreciative smile and nodded. “I thought you would.” You peeled off from him and quickly flanked the five or six walkers left in the front, ignoring their attention and slight changes of direction as they reached for you. You heard Daryl’s bolts hitting their marks and focused instead on the group at the back. You readied your knife in your hand, but stooped to pick up a large rock sitting on the soil surface. You threw it and struck the closest walker in the side of the head, and even throwing with your non-dominant hand, it was enough to drop it. Then you went to work with your knife, quickly dealing with all but one particularly large one.

You glanced toward Daryl and saw that he had set his bow down and pulled his own knife from its sheath. You returned your attention to the hulking mass of rotting flesh slowly limping toward you. “Ugh,” you groaned. “Got a ripe one over here!” you called out.

“Yeah, well, I got my own problems,” he shouted back. Daryl was staring at the last walker which appeared more like a bipedal tumbleweed. The entire upper body and head was entangled in layers of blackberry brambles. Daryl was backing up as it advanced as he tried to figure out exactly how to take it down.

He took another step back and that’s when it happened… Something tightened around his ankle and his foot was pulled out from under him. His back hit the ground hard, forcing the breath from his lungs, and suddenly he was dangling upside down with the walker grappling toward him. His knife, dislodged from his hand by the fall, was shining on the leaf litter out of reach.

“Daryl!” you screamed, seeing him hauled up in a rush of movement and dangling from a snare. “Shit!”

That brief moment looking away from the lumbering walker in front of you was enough for it to nearly reach you. When you looked back, all you could do was throw your hands up in an attempt to push it back, but the rotting skin slipped off and your fingers squelched into the decomposing flesh. With a gag of disgust, you jumped backwards and steadied yourself, glancing frantically at Daryl again. He was grappling with the brambly mass in front of him, dangling in front of it like a worm on a hook. “Hold on!” you screamed, returning your attention to your own adversary. You wound up and kicked it as hard as you could in the stomach. The heel of your boot sunk in but the rest of the sole connected with the sternum and the walker did tumble back and fall to the ground. You rushed it and plunged your knife into its head with a grunt of effort before frantically stumbling to your feet and racing to help Daryl.

He was now straining to keep the bramble-wrapped walker away from his head and neck. You vaulted over the still corpses on the ground and raced toward him. Without a thought, you seized the tangled mess of briars in both hands and whirled it away from him, throwing it to the ground. You slammed your boot down on the body, as close to the neck as you could, and then thrust your knife through the woody tangle and down into the skull. It twitched and fell still.

The quiet seemed somehow overwhelming now as you straightened, glancing at the gore on your hands and boots. You pulled a scrap of fabric out of your back pocket and wiped off your hands. Your chest was heaving and you tried to catch your breath as you turned back to Daryl, still hanging upside down, his face bright red and his wavy hair dangling down.

“A little help?” he growled.

You stomped over, exhausted from the fight, and leaned in close to him. “Please, tell me you’re clean,” you said, searching for any bites or scratches on the parts of him you could see. You actually clasped his face between your hands while he was hanging there and turned it side to side to check.

“Nah, ‘m good. Just a little banged up. Now, would ya get me down from this damn snare before I pass the fuck out?”

You straightened up again, relieved now that the danger had passed, and laughed at the sight of him. “You should see yourself right now,” you said, grinning.

“For fuck’s sake, would ya get me down?” he growled again.

“Down? No problem,” you said, spinning your knife in your hand.

“Wait—Dun—” He dropped with a thud onto his back as you cut the rope and the air left his lungs for the second time. Your pleased laughter was a soundtrack he’d accept despite the betrayal.

You dropped down to the dirt beside him, your chest still heaving with exertion. But you were smiling and then laughing still as he looked over at you and let out a small pained noise accompanied by an unamused look. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You’re really alright though?” you asked, shuffling your boots in the litter and soil in an attempt to clean the gore off them. Daryl stared up at the canopy overhead from the flat of his back. The tree branches looked like dark fingers reaching toward the sky, silhouetted in the afternoon light. He didn’t respond so you leaned in over him. “Hmm?” you prodded him again. “You’re good?”

Your face appeared above his and you brushed some dirt from his cheek with a clean corner of the cloth from your pocket. And for the third time his breath left his lungs, but this time was much different. His eyes flickered between yours, studying their flecks of color and the ring around your pupil. Your hair hung forward, framing your face. His stomach somersaulted. “‘M good,” he finally managed. “Thanks for the save, by the way.”

“Of course,” you said, leaning back on your palms so he could sit up unobstructed.

“Ya alrigh’?” he drawled, glancing back over at you. He loosened and undid the snare around his ankle, discarding it.

“Me? All good.” But you held your palms out toward him and wiggled your fingers and he could see that your hands were actually quite cut up. “Just a bit scratched. From the blackberry briars he was tangled in.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. “Mmm,” he hummed, reaching for his pack a short distance away. He dug inside until he found the little bag of first aid supplies that he kept stashed in the bottom. “We oughta clean those up. ‘Specially since ya were wrist deep in that slimey one just before.”

“Ugh,” you groaned, your nose wrinkling with disgust. “Don’t remind me.”

Daryl pulled out some alcohol pads and hastily tore open the packaging. “C’mon. Lemme see.”

You held your hands out, resting them palms up on your knees. Daryl gulped nervously (hoping you didn’t notice) and took each one in his in turn, rubbing the alcohol pads over your palms and fingers. You couldn’t be sure if the goosebumps rising on your skin were from his steady, gentle touch or the chill left behind as the disinfectant evaporated. You tried hard to reason it away. “Thanks,” you whispered as he finished. He only nodded.

“Getting caught in your own snare. That’s a new one,” you commented, smiling at him again.

He scoffed. “That ain’t one’a mine,” he said, grabbing the discarded line and holding it up. “Wasn’t set to catch small game neither. Somebody prob’ly put it up for the dead.”

You laughed lightly again. “They would have had a hell of a surprise if they were around to see their catch.”

“Mm,” he hummed, tossing it aside again. “Looks old. Surprised it still worked.”

You climbed to your feet, dusting off your pants. “We should probably get back. It’ll be getting dark soon.” You offered him your hand to pull him to his feet, but he didn’t take it and shot you a look.

“Yer all cut up,” he scolded you. “The hell ya thinkin’?”

You glanced at your hand again and shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Daryl shouldered his bow and bag, collected his spent bolts, and nodded. “Let’s head back to my bike. I think we’ve done enough for today.”

“Two rabbits and a few squirrels,” you said, stepping into stride behind him. “It’s hardly enough to feed even two families.” He could hear the disappointment in your voice.

He glanced over at you and gave you a small smile. “S’enough to feed a few, which is better than nothin’.”

You sighed. “I know. I was just hoping for a deer. Something substantial,” you sighed.

“I know,” Daryl said, glancing over at you. “Maybe next time, yeah?”

You walked in silence for a few minutes, heading back toward Daryl’s motorcycle. When you reached it, he strapped down his bow and pack and climbed on. He seized the helmet sitting on the back before you could and handed it to you, giving you a pointed look. “I still can’t get over that you make me wear a helmet and you don’t wear one,” you said, buckling the chin strap. He hummed some kind of non-committal response and you shook your head at him. He leaned forward and you slipped in behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle securely. You tried to ignore the heat that suddenly pooled in the middle of your chest and spilled outwards. How many times had you ridden on Daryl’s bike at this point? And yet every time—without fail—you felt yourself blushing as soon as you settled down behind him.

He cleared his throat and turned slightly to the side so you could hear him better. You leaned forward to listen, pressing your body against his, and despite the layers and layers of clothing between the two of you he felt like his skin was on fire. “Ready?” he drawled.

“Ready,” you said. Your cheek pressed into the back of his shoulder for just a moment as you adjusted your grip. “Go fast,” you sighed, and he could hear the smile in your voice.

He let out a low, gravelly laugh that you adored. “You got it, boss,” he said, and he fired the motorcycle to life.

The ride home flew by as you bathed in the wind and the exhilaration of flying down the road, and your arms around Daryl didn’t hurt either, though you tried hard not to acknowledge that to yourself... Soon, the gate was visible in the distance and Daryl slowed and weaved his way through the defensive roadblocks and around the crumbling potholes in the asphalt. Suddenly, he felt you stiffen behind him as he rolled up to the gate.

“Oh, shit. Oh, fuck…” he heard you murmur behind him.

He slowed to a stop at the gate. “What’s the matter?” he asked over the idling engine.

Your hand departed from his side and landed on his arm. “Look to the right,” you said, your voice thin. “That’s—that’s the truck they took on the run. Something must have happened. They weren’t supposed to be back for three more days,” you said. Your heart was hammering and you felt like you couldn’t get enough air. Daryl thought he could feel a slight shake in your fingers as they left his arm. “I need to get home. He’s going to be pissed,” you breathed. “Shit.”

Daryl felt his own body stiffening now too. His knuckles went white on the handlebar grips. The gate rolled back to admit the two of you and Daryl drove the bike inside. The rattle was loud and clanged in your head as it shut behind you.

“Stop here. Please,” you said urgently, almost as soon as the motorcycle had cleared the path of the gate. Your eyes darted around inside, expecting to see him standing somewhere watching for you.

“What? Ya said ya need to get home?” Daryl drawled, but you were already climbing off his bike, nearly falling as you hurried and the toe of your boot caught on the seat. Daryl flipped out the kickstand and climbed off too, watching you trying to undo the chin strap of your helmet, but your fingers were shaking. “Y/N—I can take ya right to yer house.” He moved around the bike and stopped in front of you, taking over undoing the strap on the helmet for you. You stood with your chin tilted up, and he could see the worry in your eyes. You looked nearly frantic.

“Thank you,” you murmured after he final got it undone, pulling the helmet from your head and shaking your hair out. “Me pulling up behind you on your motorcycle is not going to help the situation,” you said, holding the helmet out to him.

“Listen, if ya think he’s gonna give ya a hard time, maybe I should come with ya and—”

Your eyes were fearful and you shook your head. “No, Daryl—I appreciate it but that wouldn’t… I mean, he—I don’t think that would help either. I—I think it might make it worse. I’m sorry. I just—I have to go,” you said, already walking backwards away from him, your hands gripping the straps of your pack with white knuckles. “I’ll see you later, okay? Make sure Carl and Judith get fed with that game, alright?”

“Yeah. See ya,” he drawled, watching you turn and hurriedly jog down the sidewalk until he couldn’t see you anymore in the growing dusk. There was a hard pit in the bottom of his stomach, like he had swallowed stones. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He turned and strapped the helmet down on the back of his bike and climbed on again, riding it back to Aaron’s garage and quickly parking it. He pulled the game stringer and his gear off his bike and threw the tarp over it. His stomach was churning as he made the walk home alone.

The house was quiet with only a few lights on upstairs, but he found Carol seemingly waiting for him on the porch. She gave him a smile as he came up the steps. “Hi,” she greeted him. “How was it? Have a good day?”

He set the game down, slinging it over the porch railing. He nodded thoughtfully. “Alrigh’,” he said a little dully. “‘Til we got back.” He dug around in his pocket for a cigarette before he remembered that you’d stolen the pack earlier in the day and threw it out, telling him he needed to quit or you’d be burying him in an early grave. His teeth worried his bottom lip.

“What do you mean?” Carol asked, her bright tone diminished.

“We got back and saw that the truck they’d taken on the run was parked outside the gate. When she realized he’d be back and see that she wasn’t at home—” Daryl’s teeth ground together and the muscle in his jaw clenched. “She—she seemed scared. I mean, she was shakin’. She wouldn’t even lemme drive her back to her house and drop her off. Said it wouldn’t help the situation.”

Carol’s face was dark now, her mouth drawn in a thin line with the corners tugging down. “No. No, I don’t think that would have helped... Rosita and Glenn said the main bridge washed out. They couldn’t get to the community college. They came back until they can figure out a new route.”

Daryl leaned back against the railing and nodded. He gulped and shook his head, staring down at his boots and absently picking at a loose stitch on the sheath of his knife. “He’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he growled, shaking his head. “I dun understand why she stays with that prick…”

Carol sighed and nodded. “They were together before everything fell apart. I think that’s part of it.”

“He treats her like shit,” Daryl spat. He nestled the side of his thumbnail in between his teeth and bit down until he tasted the earthy tang of copper.

Carol’s expression was pensive. “Daryl—I think—I think it’s worse than that,” she said softly. Daryl’s head snapped up as he hurriedly looked at her, his eyes locking with hers.

“What d’ya mean?” he growled. He had his own suspicions.

She didn’t say anything but held his gaze steadily.

Daryl’s hands clenched and unclenched in a fist. “Ya think he’s puttin’ his hands on her?”

“I really don’t know. Not for sure. He’s certainly abusive to her… emotionally, mentally. He’s a controlling prick. But—I still don’t know anything for certain. I’ve tried to find out, to pay attention but I’ve never seen anything to prove it.” She shook her head. “I have seen bruises on her. She always has a story. And in this world it isn’t exactly unexpected to be bruised up, right?”

“Bruises where?” Daryl growled, his eyes narrowed and piercing.

“Her shoulders. Her arms and wrists. Once, on her neck,” Carol said. “That’s just what I’ve been able to see from time to time. But she’s always had an excuse.”

“And yer just tellin’ me this now?” Daryl growled, fuming at the mere thought of how that asshole could have put those marks on you. “How long has this been?”

“I’ve had suspicions since—since the quarry,” she admitted. Daryl swore and paced a big circle around the porch before his eyes landed on her again.

“Ya shoulda fuckin’ said something!” he barked at her. “Does Rick know? Does anybody else know?” he demanded.

“Daryl, I don’t know anything,” she said gently. Carol did look guilty, but she remembered what it was like back with Ed… The cycle of abuse was like a narcotic you were unwillingly being dosed with and she had always tried to hide it too. “There have been lots of times where he most likely couldn’t have been physically hurting her because he would have been caught. When things have been close quarters, you know? At the quarry… on the road.” “Most likely,” Daryl repeated, nodding at her. “Most likely? And is that s’posed to make it better?”

“No. No… not at all,” she sighed. “We’ve all heard them arguing, heard how he talks to her, seen how toxic that relationship is.”

Daryl’s blue eyes seemed to blaze with some inner fire as he listened to Carol. “If he’s layin’ so much as a fuckin’ finger on her and I find out, I’mma fuckin’ kill him. I’m gonna drag him outta that house and beat him into the fuckin’ ground with my bare hands,” he growled. “I dun even care what happens to me. He's done."

Carol nodded. “I know. I know you would. And that’s part of the reason why I haven’t said anything before. But I also don’t know anything for certain.”

“Have ya asked her?”

Carol nodded. “I’ve tried, a few times, in a few different ways but—any hint of me trying to talk to her about that relationship and she may as well be running the other way. I mean, no one could have convinced me to leave Ed back then... The fear keeps you trapped there. Leaving doesn’t even feel like an option because it’s so unsafe. If he beats the shit out of you for not being home when he thinks you should be, what would he do if you tried to leave?”

“But she’s got people. She’s got—she’s us. She’s got me.” Daryl sighed and his shoulders slumped, some of the rage dissipating into a helplessness. “What do we do?” He ran his hand over his mouth and chin and straightened up. “What if he’s—what if somethin’ bad is happenin’ to her righ’ now? I told ya she was scared.” He straightened up. “I’mma go over there,” he said, determined. “I gotta check on her.”

Carol sighed. “Daryl, I don’t think that’s a good idea…”

“Why? Somebody should protect her!”

“It’s not that simple. Haven’t you noticed how he gets around you? He’s threatened by you, intimidated. Jealous. It makes it worse. Unless you’re prepared to break in the door and have this all out right now—”

“Well, maybe I am,” Daryl growled.

Carol shrugged. “That’s up to you. But if they are just arguing, if he’s not physically hurting her right now, you showing up there and reminding him who she was with all day could put her in even more danger.”

Daryl paced anxiously on the porch, rubbing his hand over his face thoughtfully. “Fuck,” he growled. “She dun deserve to be with that asshole. Her of all people… She—she deserves somethin’… better. She dun deserve that.”

Carol smiled at the softness on his face as he talked about you. “No. Neither did you. Neither did I. But life isn’t fair.”

Daryl froze and his eyes shut. His breath became shaky. When he spoke again, his voice broke. “Why? Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked, looking up at Carol. His expression was desperate.

“Did you tell anyone?” she asked him and she already knew the answer.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The house was dark as you crossed the porch and made your way to the front door, but you knew better than to think he was asleep. You drew in a shaky breath and your fingertips were trembling as you reached for the doorknob. It turned and you pushed in, trying to steel yourself for whatever was to come.

You’d barely made it inside onto the rug in the entryway when he kicked the door shut, forcing it out of your hand. You couldn’t help the gasp that left you. He locked it behind you and pointedly put on the security chain. You were sandwiched between him and a sealed exit and you could read his rage in the blackness of his eyes.

You still had your pack on you but he wrenched it off you, twisting one of your arms painfully when it caught in the strap. He threw it carelessly and it slid a good distance down the hallway. Before you could do anything, you were aware of his hand withdrawing your knife from its sheath at your hip. Your breath seemed to catch and crystallize painfully in your lungs as he turned the steel blade and it glinted in the low light.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he growled, holding the point of the knife mere inches from the center of your breastbone. You had to regulate your breathing so it was shallower or you swore the tip would pierce into your skin. “I get back and the house is empty.” He wasn’t yelling at you, not yet, but this quiet tone felt maybe even more dangerous.

“I was just—out hunting,” you stammered, pressing yourself back into the wood of the door behind you, trying to gain a millimeter of space.

He kept the knife tickling at the cotton of your shirt and grabbed a fistful of your hair with the other hand, cruelly yanking your head back and down so your chin lifted and your neck was exposed. You felt some strands give way in his grip and tried not to cry out, but a whimper escaped your lips. “Then where’s the game? Huh? I don’t see a fucking rabbit or squirrel. Nothing.”

You could barely speak. “N—no luck,” you said.

He laughed a dry, perilous sounding laugh. “No surprise there. You are fucking useless,” he spat. “Who were you with?”

You stayed silent, your mind whirring. “No one. I went by myself, I swear.” You did your best to keep your voice steady.

You saw the knife glint again out of the corner of your eye and then felt the cool edge of the blade alight on your neck, just enough so he knew you could feel it. “You lying fucking whore. You think I didn’t ask around as soon as I realized you weren’t here? I leave for not even one day and you run off into the woods with that fucking redneck!” You could feel the heat of his breath and his spit landing on your skin. “Huh?!” he roared. “Answer me, bitch!”

You squeezed your eyes shut as he yelled into your ear, leaving behind a high-pitched ringing. Your whole body was shaking now. “I’m sorry,” you managed in a desperate, hoarse whisper. “I’m sorry. We were just hunting, I swear. We were just hunting! I would never—” Tears burned in your eyes, blurring your vision.

“What have I told you about him ? Huh?! We both know I can’t trust you to keep your fucking legs closed. I can’t believe this shit,” he growled. “I’m gone half a day—"

“I’m sorry,” you breathed.

He backed off, just slightly, but you could see the sneer on his face, the rage still burning in his eyes. “No, you’re not. Yet. But you’re gonna be. You wanna run around with other men like a slut? I guess I have to teach you another fucking lesson and remind you who the hell you belong to. You’re mine! You go where I say, when I say! You talk only to who I fucking say you can talk to! And you stay the fuck away from that redneck trash or I swear to God, I’ll kill him. I’ve warned you before. I’ll slit his throat in his sleep. You so much as look in his direction again, and I’ll fucking kill him. And then I might just decide I’m done with you too…” He seized you by the throat and threw you to the ground, hard. You fell to the floor on your hands and knees, bashing your kneecaps and knowing they’d be bruised the next day. Pain shot up your wrists too, but you didn’t have a moment to even catch your breath, to even try to think of a way to escape or defuse the situation. “Get up. Get the fuck up! Get upstairs and keep your mouth shut!” He grabbed you by the hair and half-dragged you to your feet before shoving you toward the staircase.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl cleaned the game on the front porch and then spent the whole night awake, pacing. A few times he started to make his way toward your house, but stopped halfway as Carol’s voice rang in his mind. “You showing up there and reminding him who she was with all day could put her in even more danger.” He’d turned around and come back home, only to resume his restless, aimless waiting. He kept reaching for his pack of cigarettes absently and then remembering the way you’d leaned in and pulled them out of his shirt pocket. The touch of your fingers separated by just a thin veil of cotton had raised goosebumps and electricity up his back.

The internal conflict warring inside him was threatening to make him sick. He found himself nearly breaking the porch railing he was gripping onto it so hard. It was the wee hours of the morning when he finally surrendered, swore under his breath, and went down to his room to collapse into bed. He stared at the ceiling until the sun came up.

He waited until the house above was noisy with footsteps and sound clanging in the kitchen before, he peeled himself off the mattress and went up. Carol was in the kitchen when he stepped out and she immediately dried her hands hurriedly and nodded toward the hallway. Daryl followed her lead and walked out onto the front porch. The grass still had dewdrops clinging to it and Alexandria was still waking up.

“You look like shit,” Carol said in an undertone to him as he settled back against the railing.

He scoffed. “Thanks. Wonder why,” he snapped back. “What?”

She sighed. “Don’t be mad—”

His brow furrowed and cast his eyes in shadow. “Carol—”

“But I went to their house last night,” she said.

Daryl’s eyes snapped up to hers. “The hell ya mean? After what ya told me ‘bout makin’ it worse?” he growled.

“It’s not like I waltzed up to the door and rang the bell,” she retorted, giving him a stern look. “I watched the house from across the street. I wasn’t seen. And even if I had been, I’m not you. But I wanted to be there just in case…”

“Just in case? In case of what? What the fuck good is that gonna do if he’s beatin’ the shit outta her behind closed doors?” Daryl growled. He rubbed a hand over his face, frustrated and infuriated. “Well?” he pressed her.

She shook her head. “Nothing. I thought maybe I could hear yelling at one point but the house was completely dark, locked up. Shades all down. Nothing. It’s hard to say.”

“Why the fuck are ya even tellin’ me this then?” Daryl barked.

“I’m trying to help,” she snapped back. “Listen, Deanna has called a town meeting tonight to make some announcements or something. Everyone is going to be there. If she’s not, well, then we’ll have to do something… go over there. I don’t know.”

Daryl sighed. “If she’s not, I’m gonna break the door in. And then I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Everyone was gathered around several blazing firepits, chatting, laughing, drinks in hand. The mood was convivial, unless you were Daryl. He had posted himself out on the edge of the group where he could watch everyone come and go and so far, he’d been left alone. That was until Carol spotted him. She came over after waving at a few of the ladies she baked casseroles with and having a very animated conversation about fruit cake made with expired canned peaches.

She slid up beside him, a wide and annoying smile still plastered on her face. “You look like a gargoyle over here, Daryl,” she scolded him from the corner of her mouth.

He only continued to sweep his eyes over the crowd. “Ya think I give a shit?” he growled back.

“Well, if you’re trying to draw attention to yourself, you’re doing a great job by scowling at everyone,” she said, stopping to return a wave from Olivia from across the party.

Daryl bristled. “ ‘M sorry, but one of us is a little fuckin’ worried righ’ now,” he snapped. “I ain’t exactly in the mood to have a chat with some suburbanite about fucking peaches.”

Carol took a sip of her drink. “I’m gonna let that slide considering the circumstances, but you know perfectly well that everything I’m doing here, including chatting about peaches, is for our family.”

Daryl sighed and softened a little. “…’M sorry. S’just—”

“I know,” she interrupted him, softening now herself. The worry crept onto her face now too. “No sign of her yet?”

Daryl shook his head. “No. Or him.”

Carol checked her watch. “There’s still time.”

Each minute felt like an hour, a tortuous, slow hour. Daryl’s eyes continually swept over the crowd, checking every figure, every gap for your silhouette, and finally, when he was nearly frantic with worry, he straightened up. “Hey—” he said, nudging Carol. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. At that distance, across the party, he couldn’t tell if you were hurt. All he could really see was that your boyfriend had his arm wrapped around your back and his hand was resting on your hip. Was his grip a little too tight? Was he holding you too close, like he was asserting control over you? Or was Daryl imagining that?

Carol saw you walking in at your boyfriend’s side. Glenn and Maggie stopped the two of you and you hugged her briefly and chatted for a moment, laughing at something she said, before the two of you moved away. Carol breathed a small sigh of relief at the sight of you. “Okay,” she murmured. “She’s here…”

“Yeah,” Daryl drawled, squinting at you. Every time a shadow shifted across your face, he imagined that it was a bruise.

“At least we can see her and she’s—she’s mostly alright,” Carol said.

“Is she?” Daryl growled back, feeling another upwelling of toxic rage. He watched you follow along beside your boyfriend until you both sat down in one of the rows of chairs facing the small, makeshift podium where Deanna would speak. Your boyfriend’s hand landed on the back of the neck and he leaned in to whisper something to you and Daryl’s hands clenched into fists. It could have been just a normal touch between a couple, but to him it looked possessive and he felt another burst of hot anger in his chest. Daryl discarded his empty bottle on a table beside him and watched as you got up and made your way over to the refreshment table while your boyfriend made himself comfortable. Daryl nervously licked his lips and Carol followed his gaze.

“‘M gonna go check on her,” he drawled.

“Be careful,” she warned him. “Daryl—He’s right there.”

“I can fuckin’ handle him if I need to,” Daryl replied and then he stepped into the crowd and made his way through.

You were reading the handwritten label on a beer bottle when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder and turned to see Daryl standing there. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you breathed with a nervous laugh. “You startled me.” You quickly glanced over your shoulder to see if your boyfriend was watching you. “Just—grabbing some drinks,” you said.

But Daryl was staring at you intensely and his expression was drawn and anxious. “Are ya okay?”

You swallowed at the thick lump in your throat that had just materialized. “Fine!” you said brightly, but you couldn’t look him in the eye. “I should get back—"

“Y/N—” His hand landed on your arm and your body arrested all movement without you consciously deciding to stop. His brow was furrowed heavily, his blue eyes flickering over you. “Really. Are ya okay? What—”

He heard your breath shake as you exhaled. “Daryl, I can’t. Not here. Not now… I can’t talk to you,” you said in a low voice. You glanced over your shoulder again to see that your boyfriend was (thankfully) in conversation with Deanna’s husband Reg and clearly hadn’t noticed Daryl standing with you.

His stomach sunk. “What d’ya mean ya can’t talk to me?” Your eyes snapped back to his face, to the concern, to the unease.

You looked back once more. He was a mere ten feet away, waiting. You couldn’t be seen talking to Daryl. You couldn’t. His threats rang in your mind like alarm bells. “I—I just can’t. I’m sorry. I have to go.” You withdrew from him abruptly and returned to your seat, handing your partner the beer bottle and sitting stiffly beside him. Daryl was left with that same sick feeling in his gut…

It wasn’t long before Deanna went to the podium to the sounds of applause and happy jeering. Daryl posted himself to the side of the group, almost at the exact end of the row you were seated in. You did your best to stare forward, but you didn’t hear a word out of Deanna’s mouth. All that seemed to be in your head was a rising hum and your own heartbeat. You found your eyes repeatedly drawn sideways to look at the broad-shouldered archer but would quickly catch yourself and face the front again.

For his part, Daryl looked on, fuming. Your body was rigid and far from at ease. When he watched your boyfriend reach over and place his hand on your thigh, he’d had enough and he made a hasty exit.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Carol came bounding up the steps onto the porch to find Daryl leaning back against the railing and sharpening his knife, just for something to do, something to keep his hands busy. The methodical, rhythmic movements felt at least a little calming. But Carol’s expression was dark and any calm he had achieved evaporated quickly. He gave her a questioning look. “S’goin’ on? Party all wrapped up?”

“Yeah. And I had to stop by to check on the Thompsons, that elderly couple? Their house is right across from the clinic,” she explained. “Daryl—when I was leaving, I caught a glimpse of Denise answering the door and letting Y/N inside.”

Daryl felt like his blood had run cold. He straightened up, discarded his whetstone quickly, and snapped his knife back into the sheath on his hip with a sharp sound. Carol eyed it uneasily. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she warned him.

“If I did, we both know it’d be because that fucker deserves it. But for now—I’mma just see if I can talk to her. Ya didn’t see him there ?”

Carol scoffed and rolled her eyes. “He and Pete both left the bonfire drunk.”

Daryl shook his head. “Birds of a feather,” Daryl drawled. He started down the steps. “I’ll be back later. Probably.”

Carol watched him until his broad-shouldered silhouette blended into the darkness.

There weren’t any lights on in the front of the building when Daryl reached the clinic, but he could see a faint glow from the back hallway when he pulled open the door and stepped inside. Muffled voices drifted out from the same direction as the light and Daryl made his way toward them. He recognized both you and Denise talking in low voices.

When he rounded the corner and stepped into the hallway, he saw that the first room was the source of all the light and sound and the door was standing wide open.

For a moment, his brain didn’t seem to grasp exactly what he was looking at, only really that he shouldn’t be seeing it. You were sitting on the edge of an exam table and Denise was beside you seated on a tall stool with gloves on. Daryl’s brain seemed to catch up as he froze in the doorway and he finally consciously registered what he was looking at. Your shirt was off and rumpled beside you on the table. Your upper body was bare except for your bra and Denise was stitching a wound on your side. The skin on your back, shoulders, and arms was a mottle of dark bruising, cuts, and abrasions down to some particularly angry looking marks encircling your wrists. There were constellations of little marks scattered across your skin, some new and some long-healed. He couldn’t have been in the doorway for more than a second before you and Denise realized he was there, but it was enough time for him to experience a dizzying torrent of emotions.

Your eyes went wide as you turned and realized he was standing there, and you grabbed your shirt and hastily began pulling it on, your fingers shaking as you tried to button it. “Daryl—” In the same moment you jumped down, accidentally knocking the metal tray of supplies to the floor where they clanged loudly. “Shit!” Daryl was already rushing away when you looked at Denise.

“I thought you said you locked the door!” you said.

“I—I thought I—Y/N, your stitches,” she called after you, but you were already gone, chasing after Daryl.

“Daryl! Wait—Daryl!” you called after him, still fumbling with buttons as you chased after him through the clinic.

He burst out into the night and you were just behind him, catching the door before it could completely close and racing across the porch and down the stairs.

“Daryl, please—”

He finally stopped on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps, frozen, and you caught up to him. Even standing behind him, you could tell his chest was heaving and when he turned to look at you, you read many things on his face at once. His blue eyes were glassy with tears but they seemed to shift with internal turmoil. His hands were clenched into fists. Rage was boiling beneath the surface. He spoke carefully when he finally managed it. “‘M sorry,” he drawled, ducking his head. “I didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that...” he said.

You just stared back at him, your eyes still wide, your fingers still on the top button of your shirt. “It’s okay…” you said softly, your stomach churning.

Daryl gulped and paced back toward you, his eyes landing on your face again. “But he—did he—?” He couldn’t even get a fucking sentence out. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw clenching. He swore under his breath, trying to maintain control. “He did that to ya,” he said, his gaze intense. “Last night. Just ‘cuz ya weren’t home.” It wasn’t a question.

You felt your face burn with heat. You gulped, but didn’t answer.

Daryl’s breath came faster as he nodded. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, so hard he tasted blood. His heart hammered against his rib cage. “How long has this been goin’ on?”

Again, you didn’t answer and only ducked your head, unable to look at him anymore. Shame washed over you.

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip and nodded. Those tears in his eyes born of rage and sadness and horror at seeing all the injuries on your body blurred his vision. “I’ve heard the way that piece of shit talks to ya sometimes—I mean, we all have. The way he tries to control ya. But this? All this time he’s been doin’ this to ya, and ya didn’t tell me? Why didn’t ya tell me?” he begged you as if he needed the answer to breathe. “Or if not me, someone. Carol. Maggie. Somebody!”

Your stomach was churning and then clenching into a hard pit. You opened your mouth to answer, but it was a long moment before any words came out. “I didn’t want—to drag anyone else in,” you said weakly. “And I thought—I always thought it would stop once… I don’t know, once things were stable. Like, at the prison or once we got here. But it didn’t. And—I guess, I thought I could handle it. And I felt like I was in too deep. And I felt—I felt stupid for letting it happen to me,” you said, your voice breaking. Daryl’s heart ached. “I mean, I can fight. Why do I let it happen to me? But—when I used to try and fight him—it made it so much worse,” you said, and you ducked your head again. He watched your body start to tremble, like some involuntary fear response at the mere thought of it. “The things he’s—he’s—"

“It’s not yer fault. And ya ain’t got nothin’ to be ashamed of. It ain’t as simple as fightin’ back or just leavin’…” Daryl swore under his breath again and ran a hand over his face. “Fuck, Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me?” he said again. “Ya coulda told me.” He was seething now, again picturing the kaleidoscope of injuries he’d seen on you. “Some of those cuts I just saw on ya,” he said, “he used a knife? Huh?” You didn’t answer but he didn’t need you to. He shook his head. “Nah. This is done. He’s done. Go back in there and have Denise finish fixin’ ya up,” he said. “Then ya should probably stay with her tonight.”

You felt bile rising into your throat. “What are you going to do?” you asked him.

“What d’ya think? I’mma go to your house, drag his ass into the street, and beat him to a fucking pulp,” he growled.

Fear tightened your stomach into a hard pit. “Daryl, don’t—please, you can’t do that.”

“I can and I will,” he growled. “He ain’t layin’ another finger on ya.”

You shook your head, your eyes wide and fearful. “Earlier, when I said I couldn’t talk to you—he—he’s threatened to kill you. If he sees us together again... He’s jealous and—and he told me if I so much as look at you—I think he knows that—” you broke off abruptly, wondering if you were even making any sense to him at all.

Daryl gulped, his shifting suddenly going completely still. “Knows what?” he asked, his heart still hammering in his chest, but now perhaps for a slightly different reason.

You simply shook your head again. “Listen to me, Daryl—best case scenario, if you go there and attack him, you’ll get yourself exiled from Alexandria. And that’s best case. Please,” you begged him. “You can’t. Please… He won’t hesitate to kill you if he gets the chance.”

“I’d like to see him fuckin’ try,” Daryl growled.

You stepped in close to him, your expression desperate, and you gripped the front of his jacket. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you,” you whispered, your eyes flickering between his.

He gulped and his hands landed gently on the small of your back for just a brief second, and it was electric. “Neither do I. But turns out somethin’ real bad is already happenin’ to ya. And has been for a long time. Besides, like I said, ya think that asshole can take me? Fuck no.”

You shook your head. “Just—for tonight—please… Go home. Cool down. Think this through. Please. I’m scared of what he’ll do to you.”

Your voice was so pleading, your eyes shining with tears, that it somehow overcame his rage and he caved. He ducked his head and his shoulders slumped. “Fine. Fine… for tonight. I’ll wait. I’ll go home. But he’s gonna get dealt with. I’m gonna deal with him. And ya shouldn’t go back there...”

You let out a long sigh of relief, though you still felt jittery and sick. Your fingers slipped from the front of Daryl’s jacket. “He’s passed out drunk on the couch,” you said. “It’s the only reason I could sneak out here to see Denise.”

Daryl had the brief thought that now was the perfect time to beat the fuck out of him then. But he’d already agreed, given you his word. “Still,” he said, drawing away from you. “Go get fixed up. I’ll—‘m gonna figure this out. I promise.” He had a hard time leaving you. He watched until you were pulling the door open to the clinic again, and you glanced back at him one more time, and his heart jumped.

Daryl walked home in the lonely dark, his insides somersaulting between fury and fear for you and regret and a deep ache. Carol was waiting on the porch, pacing. She stopped as he came up the steps, her expression desperate.

On seeing his face, that look didn’t change. “What happened?” she asked.

He swallowed the nausea rising into his throat as images of your injuries flashed in his head. “He beat the shit out of her last night. She’s all bruised, all cut up. Marks all over. Bad ones on her wrists, like—like he held her down.” He didn’t want to linger on why that might’ve been. “Carol—He used a knife on her,” Daryl growled, a shadow deepening on his face.

“God,” Carol breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God…”

“Denise is putting stitches in her side, patching her up.”

“What do we do now?” Carol asked in a harsh whisper. “Should I go wake up Rick and Michonne? We can go to Deanna and—”

He shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut. “I promised her I wouldn’t do anything tonight,” he drawled.

Carol looked shocked. “Well, screw that! She’s in danger!”

“I couldn’t say ‘no’ to her. Ya didn’t see her. She was panickin’, beggin’ me to just wait and think shit through. Ya dun think I wish I was killin’ him with my bare fuckin’ hands righ’ now?” He broke off and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I think—bringin’ a bunch of people in, ev’rybody findin’ out—s’gonna be traumatic in a different way for her.”

“Yes,” Carol nodded. “It will be. We both know that. But to get her out of it, we have to.”

“The thing is,” he started, but he broke off and nervously sunk his teeth into the corner of his nail, “—some things she said… I think—I think she was tryin’ to protect me by stayin’ with him.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

After Denise had finished stitching you up, she’d offered you her spare room. You’d accepted, but only stayed for about an hour. Your anxiety was far too high to allow you to sleep. Some of your fear had initially passed since Daryl had agreed not to go storming off to your house tonight. But—you were slowly seized with growing worry that he’d go back on his word… You knew how angry he was. You’d seen the inferno in his eyes, burning blue like the hottest part of a flame. And when Daryl was pissed, especially in regards to the treatment of one of his own, he could be brash. “Shit,” you muttered, tossing the blankets off and hastily pulling your boots back on. You’d just go to his house and make sure he wasn’t about to do anything stupid… Yes. That’s all you’d do. You’d just go to check on him and make sure he wasn’t getting ready to go storm in on your drunken asshole of a(n) (ex)partner passed out on the couch and beat him to a pulp.

Alexandria was dark and silent except for the chirping of a few lonely crickets and the echoing of your steps as you navigated the shadowy sidewalks. Daryl’s house was dark too as you stared up at it, pausing on the small patch of lawn between the sidewalk and the walkway up to the steps. It had to be the very early hours of the morning now. You took a deep breath and went up. Surprisingly, the front door was unlocked preventing any hiccup in your plan. Soon you were standing at the top of the basement stairs.

"Daryl?" you called softly down. It was dark down there, but not entirely. You could tell he had a dim light on. He was definitely awake. Of course he was. "I'm coming down," you said.

When you passed the doorframe at the bottom of the steps, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed with a bottle in his hands. He was staring at it like the label was in a foreign language, even though you could read "Buffalo Trace" from where you stood.

"Daryl?" Your voice seemingly broke his trance. He looked up at you, almost sheepishly, but only for a split second.

Daryl gulped at the tightness in his throat and turned his gaze back to the bottle in his hands.

Your stomach somehow seemed to both sink and twist at the same time and you opened your mouth to say something but you came up empty at first. After a long moment, you managed, “Where'd you get that?” as you gestured to the bottle.

"Found it on a run a while back. I always got a bottle of somethin' tucked away, ya know. Never know when ya might need it." He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"So, you're just planning on getting drunk then? Is that what this is?" you asked, and you couldn't keep an edge out of your voice. For the first time since you'd come in, Daryl looked up at you—really looked. He stared for a long moment and then reached over and set the bottle down on his nightstand with a loud clack.

He stood up, his broad shoulders and chest on full display as he paced over to you, his blue eyes narrowed. You found yourself backing up and suddenly your back hit the wall. A small gasp of surprise left you. Daryl still stepped in one more time, breaching that small buffer of space you usually maintained and staying there. “Are ya plannin’ to go back with him? Stay with him?" he asked in a low voice.

You let out a shaky breath. “I—I’m trying to protect you and everyone else. What am I supposed to do?”

"Yer s'posed to leave his ass before he fuckin' kills you. Or before I kill him," Daryl growled. His anger hadn’t abated since your talk outside the clinic. On the contrary, you were sure he’d been sitting here and stewing on everything he’d seen.

You gulped, your eyes flickering between his. “If I try to leave, then he will kill me and who knows who else he’ll come after,” you whispered. You hesitated briefly. “You. He’ll probably come after you. But if I try to go, he’ll definitely kill me.”

Daryl let out a long sigh and placed his palm flat on the wall beside your head, leaning toward you. With his other hand, he brushed a stray strand of your hair away from your face. "Ya really think I'd ever let a damn thing like that happen?" he whispered. “I told ya already. I’ll deal with him. I’ll protect ya.”

Your heart was racing and your chest heaved with your breath now. You don't know for sure who started it—not for sure. It could have been that you reached up and placed your palm in the center of his chest and spoke his name. Or it could have been that Daryl simply crashed his lips down on yours, gripped your hip and pressed against you. It didn't matter. The next moment you were entirely wrapped up in him, entangled in each other. Before you knew it, he was kissing your neck and his hands were wandering your curves, gently floating over you, aware of your injuries beneath the thin layers of fabric. He couldn’t have forgotten them if he tried, and so he touched you so carefully...

Your fingers were in his hair and beneath his shirt, running over his strong muscles and hitching on his scars. Daryl lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing him heatedly as he carried you toward his bed. You ignored the twinges and aches in your sore and battered body. It was easier, because kissing Daryl seemed to block out or dampen your pain. He tipped you back onto his bed gently, crawling over you, desperate to keep his lips on yours or kissing your soft skin. One hand on your hip and the other smoothing over your arm and then lacing with your fingers, the heat between the two of you building to a temperature that would surely consume you both.

But suddenly—reality came back and with a tremendous effort your ragged breathing turned into saying his name again. He felt you pulling back, pulling away. He leaned up over you and his blue eyes flickered over your face.

“I—I can't,” you gasped, and it sounded like it broke your heart to say it. “We can't...”

You watched the turmoil roiling in his eyes. You hoped he could see how desperate for him you were... and understand why you couldn't. It was a line you wouldn’t cross, despite everything he’d done to you.

"He dun deserve ya... not that I do either," he breathed, still caged over your body, the heat of him pouring into your skin. He brushed your hair back from your face so tenderly that tears filled your eyes and you pulled in a stuttered breath. "But at least I'd always treat ya righ'. I'd never lay a hand on ya. Ya know that." A tear broke out and ran down toward your temple. Daryl wiped the streak from your cheek. "I know," you said.

"We can have this. We can be happy. I can keep ya safe.”

"I can't ask you to do that."

"Then don't. Just let me do it."

Your eyes searched his face for a long moment. Another tear broke free and ran down by your temple and into your hair.

“He’s dangerous, Daryl.”

“So am I.” He ran the pad of his thumb along the line of your jaw. “So are you. So is this, us together.” He heaved a sigh. “Ya can’t be with him anymore. Ya know that. Ya think he might try to kill ya if ya leave, but he’s going to kill ya if ya stay. Please. Lemme do this for ya.” He was asking for your permission, though you doubted that not giving it would hold him back forever… Daryl had his limits. And someone laying their hands on you was far beyond them.

Finally, your lips parted and you breathed ‘okay’ into the air between the two of you.

Daryl’s fingers brushed back through your hair again. “Okay?”

You nodded. “Okay,” you whispered again, your eyes looking a little wide and fearful, or maybe surprised that you’d agreed.

Daryl breathed a sigh of relief and then his lips were on yours again. You hummed into the kiss and returned it fervently, the heat building between the two of you quickly again. What you were feeling was almost overwhelming, and you felt another tear leak out from the corner of your eye again and run downwards. Daryl clasped your face and pulled back for a moment, parting his lips from yours with a deep aching sense of loss. But he studied your expression again, his blue eyes flickering over your features as if he was memorizing them. “Are ya okay?” he asked.

You must have heaved in a stuttered breath. You nodded. “Yes,” you whispered. “Daryl—” you pressed your hand to his chest and Daryl felt his skin flare with heat and electricity at your touch. “I’ve—I’ve wanted this with you for so long,” you admitted. “You have to know that. ”

He gulped nervously and nodded. “Me too,” he said. You were still caged beneath his body, his hand on your hip, but he suddenly moved to the side and laid down next to you. “But—maybe we should slow down,” he said. He wanted to be completely entangled with you, but he also greatly wanted to care for you after what you had just gone through, and what you were going through now. “Yer hurt. Have ya slept at all?” he asked, his hand running down the length of your arm from your shoulder to your wrist.

You shook your head, and it was like at that moment that all the exhaustion hit you—physical, emotional, and mental. Your body grew heavy and sunk weightily into the mattress beside him. You turned onto your side to fully face him. “No,” you murmured, studying his face.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya should sleep,” he said, gently slipping your hand into his. “Nobody will hurt ya tonight. Or any other night, for that matter, if I have my way ‘bout it. ‘M righ’ here,” he said. He glanced down at your hand in his and his fingers slid up, gently nudging the cuff of your shirt aside. He ran his fingers lightly over the bruising encircling your wrist and a thick lump materialized in your throat. He lifted your wrist gently and pressed a kiss to the underside, before giving you a look that you couldn’t quite put a word to—all you knew was that it shot straight to your core, and you were suddenly screaming inside about everything that had been done to you and about how much time you had wasted and about how much you had wanted to be more with Daryl and never thought you’d be free to pursue it and—

Your body betrayed you with another shuddered breath as you tried not to break down again. “I’m okay,” you breathed. “I’m okay…”

“Yer safe. I promise,” he whispered back to you. “C’mere,” Daryl said, and he pulled you in close and held you against his body. The weight of him, his steadiness, his warmth, his comforting smell… it always made you feel safe when you had glimpses of it, and now you had it as close as possible and you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt so secure.

You draped your arm over him and tucked your head up under his chin. His arms stayed around you and you felt him leave a kiss in your hair. “Go to sleep,” he drawled softly. “I’ve got ya.”

And within minutes, out of complete exhaustion, you did.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Both you and Daryl were deeply asleep, tucked against one another in his bed, for the rest of the night, until… the sharp sound of shattering glass and a hot blaze of light startled the two of you awake.

A strangled scream left you as you tried to comprehend what was happening. Daryl was instinctively shielding you with his body as both of you tried to get your bearings, but the character of the light now blazing in the previously dark room was unmistakable and quickly had him bailing out of the bed and grabbing a nearby wool blanket. Fire. Some boxes near the foot of Daryl’s bed had caught and quickly gone up in flames. Daryl tossed the wool blanket over the top and hurriedly smothered it, stamping out any remaining hot spots before standing over the scene, his chest and shoulders heaving with panicked and bewildered breaths.

You were sitting up in his bed, your back pressed against the wall and your knees pulled up to your chest. Your eyes were wide.

“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked urgently. You nodded. His eyes flickered back over the scene. The small basement window was shattered and glass was everywhere, but there was also the unmistakable sting of alcohol in the air. He rubbed a hand over his face. His eyes landed on a brick on the floor and then the round glass bottom of a bottle or jar.

You spoke it before he could. “He did this,” you said, shifting and feeling like you couldn’t catch a breath. “He—he must have seen—”

Daryl’s hands clenched into fists. He hurriedly began tugging on his boots. “Stay here,” he said, his voice a dangerous low growl.

“Daryl—”

“Nah. He’s done. This is over.”

“Daryl!” You were still scrambling out of the bed and frantically pulling your boots on, unlaced, by the time he was bounding up the stairs.

You chased after him but the front door was already open and he was barreling down the sidewalk. The sounds of your startled yells and the clattering of the two of you had awoken some of the other members of the house. You looked up the stairs to see Maggie, Glenn, and Carol standing there looking perplexed and concerned. You gulped and nervously ran your hand back through your hair before glancing at the front door standing open again. “Um—Fuck, go get Rick and Michonne,” you said urgently. “Now! Tell them to head toward my house! Daryl’s going to kill him!”

Without anything further, you tore off after Daryl. The sun wasn’t up yet but the faint pink glow in the sky was enough to illuminate Alexandria in a wash of rosy hues. You ran as fast as you could but were hindered by the looseness of your boots. It felt as if you were running in sand and time seemed to slow. All sound vanished until the only thing you could hear at all was your own rapid breathing and the pounding of your heart. Your mind raced. Your footsteps reverberated through your body, rhythmic and jarring. You had to find Daryl. You had to make sure he didn’t get himself into deep shit because of you… because after what had just happened, you had no doubt that he would kill your ex.

Sure, it would probably be seen as justified considering the Molotov cocktail that had just followed a brick through his window—your stomach clenched. That could have been so much worse than it was. What if it had landed on you and Daryl? You wondered if your ex had been staring in through the window. The thought made your skin crawl and a nauseous wave rose into your throat. But you didn’t have time to linger on this thought any longer. Your house came into view ahead and there was a crumpled, writhing form on the lawn, cast in shadow. Suddenly, time returned to normal speed. As you got closer, the shadowy mass dissolved into two distinct human figures.

“Daryl!” you yelled. You ran as fast as you could and skidded to a stop. Daryl had your ex on the ground, firmly beneath him, and was pummeling him in the face and body with hit after hit. He didn’t even seem to hear you. “Daryl, stop!” You rushed forward and grabbed his shoulder but he shook you off absently.

The overwhelming smell of booze seemed to ooze outward in a cloud around your ex and that explained why it looked like he’d barely been able to put up any kind of resistance.

Rapid footsteps ran up behind you and you turned to see Rick, Michonne, and many of the other members of your family standing behind you. “Rick—do something! He’s going to kill him!”

Without hesitation, Rick and Michonne rushed forward and took hold of Daryl, hauling him off the now still and battered figure laying on the grass. Daryl continued to struggle against them, swearing under his breath and yelling threats at the prone body ahead. What finally stopped his pacing and frantic efforts to get back to dealing out a hefty prescription of justice was you.

You rushed forward and skirted around Rick to clasp Daryl’s face in both hands and make him look at you. “It’s over!” you said urgently. “It’s over! You got him. It’s okay!”

When his eyes found yours, the strain and tension in his body melted away and he stopped fighting. Your hands slipped down to his chest and you pressed your palms to him gently. He softened, his chest still heaving as he caught his breath. “Are ya—are ya okay?” he asked you again.

You nodded and then looked down at his clenched fists, which were shaking. “Your hands,” you said quietly. His knuckles were cracked and already swelling.

“‘M fine,” he said.

Rick left your ex’s side and returned to Daryl’s, looking at him with an intense expression that clearly suggested he needed a fucking explanation in less than three seconds.

“Ah, fuck,” Daryl murmured under his breath, ducking his head. You stepped to his side so he could speak with Michonne and Rick, but you kept your arm looped through his and your palm flush to the bare skin of his forearm. He was grateful. It was grounding him. “This asshole—just tried to kill us,” Daryl said between breaths. “He broke my fuckin’ window with a brick and then threw a goddamn Molotov through the window, barely missing catching my fuckin’ bed on fire.”

Rick’s jaw clenched but he paused and took a measured beat. “How do you know it was him?” he asked.

Daryl scoffed. “Ya mean besides the fact that when I went tearin’ out here he was runnin’ as fast as his drunk ass could away from our place?” Daryl glanced over at you and you tried your best to give him an encouraging nod. “How ‘bout ‘cuz I had someone he considers ‘his girl’ sleepin’ next to me in my bed because he beat the fuck outta her two days ago? She had to sneak off to even get help from Denise. Rick, man, he’s been hurtin’ her this entire time. Who else would it be?”

Rick’s face darkened and you saw the muscle in his jaw tense again. He glanced at you. “Is that true?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Denise has been helping me since we got here when I—when he hurts me too badly but I made her swear not to tell her anyone. But it’s been going on almost as long as he and I have been together. Years. You can talk to Denise. I’ll tell her it’s okay…”

Carol stepped forward. “Rick, I’ve had suspicions since the quarry,” she agreed, trying to give you a small, but sad, reassuring smile.

“There’s glass and scorch marks all over my room,” Daryl said. “This asshole deserves every hit I gave him and more. It coulda gone way worse…”

Rick exchanged a look with Michonne and sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Alright… All of you, go on back to the house. We don’t need a bigger scene than we’ve already got. Michonne, go get Denise to have a look at him and then—we’ll move him somewhere secure. I’ll talk to Deanna once the sun’s up…” He rubbed a hand over his forehead and sighed again.

Now that your adrenaline was waning, exhaustion returned along with a tremendous amount of pain in your body from pushing it to run. It must have been visible on your face, because Daryl asked again in a low voice, “Are ya alrigh’?” His brow furrowed deeply over his eyes.

You gulped, feeling the weight of the last few days like an iron anchor on your chest. You nodded. “Yeah. I—I think so. Sore. Tired.”

“C’mon. Let’s go home,” he said, gently touching the small of your back. Fluttering erupted in your chest.

You briefly stared up at the house that had been your “home” since shortly after you’d found Alexandria. But Daryl had always been your true home… and you’d known it since almost the moment you’d met him. You turned your back on it and walked with Daryl and the others to the only place where you felt truly safe.

Maggie and Carol had managed to squeeze you into hugs tightly on the front porch, but you had no energy or desire for anything else besides tending to Daryl’s hands and collapsing back into bed, even if there was still shattered glass and the smell of smoke in the room.

Daryl sat you down on the edge of the bed and insisted on patching up the window with cardboard and clearing away the remnants of your ex’s attack. You tugged him down to sit beside you when he’d finished and dabbed at his knuckles with a damp cloth, cleaning away the dried blood. Your eyes lifted to fix on the speckles of blood on his shirt and Daryl quickly glanced down and saw what you were staring at. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously.

“Let’s get you a clean shirt,” you said gently, reaching for the top button. “Can I?” you asked. He nodded. Not a moment of hesitation. You undid the buttons, your fingertips occasionally brushing his bare skin and sending him reeling or gulping thickly, and pushed the shirt back off his shoulders, finally tugging it free. Your eyes traveled over the scars on his chest and stomach. You’d seen them a few times over the years, but it struck you at that moment how alike you both were in this way. You too had constellations of violence on your skin. Your hands pressed gently to his chest and your eyes were glassy when you looked up and met his again. Daryl seemed to understand in that moment, what you were trying to say… You went to a clean pile of clothing draped over a chair in the corner and brought him a clean t-shirt. He quickly pulled it on and then gave you a long look.

“Ya ain’t scared of me now, are ya?” he asked, and your eyes shot back up to his.

“What? Are you kidding?” you brushed your fingers into his hair, moving it away from his face. “Of course not, Daryl. I’ve seen you fight bad men before now.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod, relieved. “I dun ever wanna scare ya,” he said.

Your warm hand came to rest on the side of his neck. He loved the weight and softness of it. “I know,” you said. “You won’t. You never have.”

Your eyes closed and you leaned in and found his lips with yours, kissing him softly and slowly. His arms wrapped around you and tugged you in, held you close. The kiss deepened, hungry and eager and filled with unsaid things. When you finally broke apart, Daryl nodded toward the pillows. “Think ya can sleep?”

“If you’re here? Yes.”

The two of you settled down beneath blankets and on soft pillows, but the most comforting was Daryl’s touch and weight against you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl tightened the chin strap on your helmet and gave you a small, fond smile. You grinned up at him, brimming with life and light. And you should be. Your ex was long gone, exiled from Alexandria and dropped off in parts unknown with a few supplies. Daryl had made sure he was there when it happened and also made sure that he knew if he saw him again, he’d get a bolt in his head before he could open his mouth.

Daryl leaned in kissed your cheek and then snuck another one on your neck, causing you to laugh. Your hair stood on end with the best kind of goosebumps. You bit you bottom lip and smiled up at him again. “C’mon. Let’s go show ev’rybody what we got today,” he said, patting a hand down on the deer meat strapped on the back of his bike.

He climbed onto his bike and leaned forward and you slipped in behind him, wrapping your arms around his middle and settling in close. The heat that pooled in the middle of your chest was the same as always. How many times had you ridden on Daryl’s bike at this point? And yet every time—without fail—you felt it as you settled down behind him. His hand left his handlebar and smoothed over yours for a moment.

“Ready?” he drawled.

“Ready,” you said. Your cheek pressed into the back of his shoulder as you hugged yourself to him. “Go fast!” you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice.

He let out a joyful laugh that you adored and smiled to himself. “You got it, boss,” he said, and he fired the motorcycle to life.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story. I made some intentional choices about the reader that reflect the fact that anyone, ANYONE, can be a victim of domestic abuse and violence. She is a survivor who knows how to fight, but still is subject to the abuse of her toxic and violent relationship. She had a support system, but still was unable to leave. She felt shame and guilt and hid it as is very common. DV is all too common and is very complex. Most people must attempt to leave an average of seven times before they are successful. If only we all had Daryl Dixon to rescue us. <3 Protect yourself by running a background check on people you date and being cautious about online dating. Watch for signs of a potentially dangerous relationship such as love bombing, insisting on moving things forward too fast, controlling behavior, and isolating you from your family and friends. Trust your gut. Trust that if ALL your friends and family don't like someone you date, there's probably a reason. Be safe. Love you. <3 If you or someone you know needs assistance with domestic violence (USA) call 800-799-7233 or text BEGIN to 88788. In the UK, help is available here: https://www.gov.uk/guidance/domestic-abuse-how-to-get-help#get-help-and-support

[blackynsupremacy]

THIS CHRISTMAS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: celebrating christmas with your husband and daughter has never been sweeter.

contains: holiday cheer and fluff, established relationship, reader and nicholas are married, wife/mom!reader, husband/dad!nicholas, just holly jolly vibes, kissing, cuddling, a little suggestiveness, nicholas calls his daughter “butterfly”.

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS SHAWTIES!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy

“mommy! daddy! wake up! it’s christmas!”

the elated voice of your five-year-old daughter, armani, woke you and your husband, nicholas, up out of your slumber as she was jumping at the foot of your bed in her pink, buffalo plaid pajama set along with a matching pink, silk bonnet to protect her freshly, braided hair with beads. with a yawn and stretch, your eyes slowly open to look over at the digital clock on your nightstand that read eight a.m. sharp.

“mhm—that’s right, ‘mani.” you rub the sleep out of your eyes to clearly get a glimpse of the pristine blanket of snow that covered every inch of the yard like a winter fantasy. you found that to be absolutely perfect for a day like this. you open your arms to your daughter who wastes no time to snuggle within your lap, you hug her to your chest and place a kiss atop of the silk of her headwrap.

“you ready to see what santa got you, my love?” you question with a whisper, armani hastily nodded, but she was hesitant.

“yeah—but, not without daddy.” she responded also in a whisper. you smile. armani loved you both immensely, but it was no lie that she was a daddy’s girl, so you let her do the honors. the little girl rolls over to shake your snoring husband’s shoulder.

“daaaaaddy! wake upppp!” she urged pushing him as if he were an hundred pound log that was impossible to move.

“nooo, five more minutes…” nicholas grumbled, pulling the covers tighter over his body.

“nuh-uh!” with a pout, armani shook her head. “i can’t waitttt! i want to see what santa got and i don’t want to do it without you, pleaseee!” with a pout she begged and crawled over nicholas, hoping her father would muster the strength to free himself from the warm cocoon of blankets. armani repeatedly tapped his head and shoulders, causing you to chuckle. you loved that she was tenacious, a true fighter who knows what she wants. nicholas couldn’t knock it at all. with a sudden burst of energy, his arm came around to entrap armani in an embrace in which she squealed loudly.

“daddy’s up now! good morning, butterfly.” he greets planting a kiss on the giggling girl’s cheek. you’ve always loved that nickname for her. when she was first born, he coined that for her because it was like she was in a cozy cocoon as a baby and as time passes by, she continues to grow and change into something as beautiful as a butterfly. you and nicholas were just a young twenty year old couple in college that happened to fool around one too many times which resulted in you getting pregnant. you were terrified because you thought that nicholas would surely leave, but it was the exact opposite. he was on his way to star in a soap opera and he still wanted to be there for you and his child, knowing he could support you both. it was a tough journey, but you found a love that grew deeper. when your daughter hit six months, nicholas popped the question. it wasn’t a huge wedding because you just didn’t have the time to plan all of it, but it was still a joyous day nonetheless.

armani excitedly greets him back with a kiss on his cheek, his eyes then land on you watching the whole thing as your melodious laughter fills the room. he observes with a mischievous grin,

“what’s so funny, gorgeous? i bet you want what she’s having. c’mere!” he quips and you try to protest, but it’s too late as you’re already scooped by nicholas’ free arm to be glued by his side while your daughter resides in his lap.

“merry christmas, girls!” he enthusiastically chimed and you simultaneously return the greeting. armani urges you both to get a move on and open some gifts. all on one accord, you and your family washed your faces and brushed your teeth before venturing downstairs to the lit, decorated living room with nicholas by your side and armani on his hip. she’s so spoiled! the christmas tree was a sight for sore eyes as presents galore were perfectly aligned around the tree.

“yaaaaaay!” armani squirms within her dad’s arms for him chuckle and release her to the floor, her tiny feet scurrying around not knowing which present to open first. you and your husband were exhausted from setting out these presents while armani was in a deep slumber, so you took a seat on the couch and took out your phone to capture this moment. armani was estatic as she opened every gift to reveal an item that she wanted on her list. a barbie dream house, lol dollz, squishmallows, and the top two for being extra good during her first semester of kindergarten: a brand new bike and a tenth generation pink ipad with an apple pencil.

“look what i got! you see it, mommy? look, daddy!” she ran up to you both to reveal the packaged devices in which you both will set up later for her.

“that’s awesome, butterfly! that’s what you get for being such a good girl all year. i’m so proud of you—now, what do we always say when we get something, hm?” nicholas communicates, leaning forward on his knees while caressing his thumb over the honey skin of his daughter’s face to which she grins. you coo at the interaction.

“thank you so much! this is the best christmas ever.” she comes in to individually give you each a hug.

“that’s my girl!” nicholas commends returning the hug.

“you’re welcome, ‘mani! santa’s glad you’re enjoying everything.” you say with a knowing wink towards your husband.

“i got something for you too! wait, don’t move.” she hurriedly ran upstairs to retrieve the gift she made in school which was expertly hidden in her bedroom until christmas. as armani walks down she calls out in the distance,

“i’m coming. close your eyes, okay!?”

you and nicholas smile, complying to her request. you could hear the patter of her tiny feet scurry to you closer.

“you can open them now!” she proudly announced. you and nicholas are amazed to see the crafted gifts your daughter put so much thought into. for you, she made a bracelet that resembled those from taylor swift’s eras tour, successfully spelling the word, “MOMMY”. although you weren’t a big fan, you can’t resist belting out some songs with armani when the opportunity is presented because she adores the singer. for nicholas, it was a calender for the upcoming year, featuring her own unique artwork for each month. armani made it because nicholas’ schedule can get so hectic, so she thought the calendar would help him to keep track, he cherished it with his entire being. you both could cry in gratitude, but you scoop her into a group hug with a simultaneous “thank you.” after exchanging gifts with one another as a couple, nicholas thought it would be a great idea to to bundle up in the new matching north face winter gear he gifted for the family to have some fun in the snow while it was still early.

armani didn’t need an ounce of candy from her stocking for her to bounce off the walls in anticipation as you all got washed up and dressed. as soon as you stepped foot outside, all you could do was stare in awe at how much snow covered the area. it was like straight out of a christmas movie. you could already hear the soft clacking of your daughter’s hair beads as she moved around to scope the yard.

“be careful walking, baby girl, i don’t want you to fall, ‘kay?” you instruct and she responds with a nod.

“yes, ma’am. may we go now, daddy?” she questioned to nicholas, tugging on his arm. he looked at you both a mischievous smirk. lord, what is this man up to now?

“i don’t see why not, butterfly—the last one to make a snow angel is a stinky grinch!” he exclaimed to let go of armani’s hand to get a head start into the icy, white powder on the ground.

“oh, no he didn’t! c’mon, ‘mani.” you giggle and race with your daughter to follow after nicholas. before you know it, you’re all in your own space of snow, sprawling your limbs up and down to sculpt the perfect snow angel in the frosted covered earth. nicholas was first to get up from his spot to marvel at the indention he made. like the strong gentleman he is, he reaches out his arms for you and armani each to get you out of the snow. you take your phone out to snap a photo of the family of angels. as you were saving it to a special album in your phone, you didn’t expect for your back to be pelted by a speedball of ice, causing you to yelp at the sensation. you turned slowly with a playful menacing glare towards nicholas and armani who seem to look so “innocent”.

“a’ight. ‘fess up! who did that?” you interrogate them, crouching to the snow as you plot to get your lick back. once your icy spheres of ammo are locked and loaded within your gloved hands, you give them one more chance only for them to point the finger at each other.

“it was daddy!” armani defended.

“nah, don’t listen to her, babe. i swear i saw the whole thing. it was definitely armani.” nicholas rebutted with his hands up in surrender. you smirk with a low chuckle as if you were a supervillain,

“then i guess you leave me no choice.” you say, lifting your arms to aim the snowballs before throwing them in their direction to hit nicholas in his chest and armani in her stomach, causing you all to laugh, but now this means war. you all spent the next hour with your family running around the yard trying to see who can get the most hits followed by building your own snowman. you notice your daughter starting to shiver from the cold and that was your cue to go back inside for breakfast.

after dressing comfortably in a fresh pair of matching pajamas, nicholas sets the atmosphere by gathering some wood to burn in the fireplace while you and armani put the spread of breakfast along with mugs of hot chocolate together on the table. everybody took their seats, it was a lovely meal where you ate and talked about anything under the sun. you all took turns to decorate your hot chocolate with whip cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles. you giggle seeing that nicholas went overboard with the whip cream. after he took a sip from the red mug, it was all over his nose and upper lip.

“butterfly.” he calls, causing armani to turn her head. once she gets a glimpse of nicholas’ appearance, the room was instantly filled with her giggles.

“can i get a kiss?” he requested, grinning widely with his messy face.

“noooo!” armani refused her beads clacking as she shakes her head. nicholas pouted,

“why not, butterfly?”

“because you’re a mess, daddy! give mommy one.” she points in your direction to which you wave your hands in refusal, “mm-mm, ‘mani! i don’t want that either. take one for the team.” you say with a chuckle, taking a sip from your mug.

“okay, but if daddy kisses me, i want another present.”

“what would that be, boo?” you ask, yours and nicholas’ brows raise in piqued curiosity.

“hmm—y’know i love you and daddy so much?”

“of course and we love you so much, butterfly.” nicholas affirmed and you nod in agreement by placing a kiss on her forehead.

“i want a baby!” the five year old announces with a beaming voice. you choke on your drink a bit at hearing the words come out, nicholas calmly chimes in to clarify.

“you mean like a baby doll or a real baby?”

armani sighs and palms her face, eager to get her point across. “a real baby, daddy! i just want someone to play with—so, if i give you a kiss, there’ll be a baby next year?” nicholas gave you a glance as you both pondered on the thought. it wouldn’t be so bad. you felt you got some footing on this parenting thing. your careers are established and you’re financially stable. there’s no denial that your baby had grown so fast. it felt like yesterday that she was barely crawling on her first christmas and now, she’s making and giving away her own gifts. you see it from her side as well, having siblings could be such a blessing when the foundation of the relationship is real love, so you give in.

“okay, armani, you got it, but you gotta be patient—really patient.”

“yes!” the girl cheered, she raised her arms before patting her face towards her dad, “hurry, daddy, hurry!” nicholas didn’t waste time to lift her in his arms to plant a sweet kiss to her face which was now covered in the whip cream. she squealed at the sensation to wipe away the mess.

once the kitchen was clean and you made some phone calls of holiday greetings to some family members, you all lay back on the sofa to have a christmas movie marathon starting with none other than home alone. you all enjoy in the classic slapstick hijinks of kevin mcallister. nicholas being the movie geek he is, spoke softly to put in some commentary regarding the film.

“you guys know that black and white crime movie he was watching isn’t real, right?”

“really? how you do know?” armani curiously asked.

“i, uh—mm, i looked it up because i wanted to watch it, aha!” he cleared his throat and bashfully chuckled, wrapping his large arm around you as armani snuggled closer into his chest. by the time the movie ended, your daughter was already snoring away. it was only half past noon and she was tuckered out from all of the holiday excitement. now, with armani peacefully napping in her room, the house was filled with a serene silence. you and nicholas settled in your own bedroom. he leaned back against the headboard pulling you into his side, his warmth radiating against you as the comforter concealed your bodies. there was a pause of silence before nicholas broke it.

“babe, did you mean that earlier?” he asked softly, glancing down at you. “about having another baby?”

“well…” you trail off, cutting a piqued glare towards your husband. “that depends on what you think about it.”

nicholas chuckled, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “well, i guess we have to think about it, don’t we? it’s a big decision.” he paused, a playful grin spreading across his face. “but i can’t deny that the idea of another little one running around would be kind of—sweet.”

you bit your lip with a smile, feeling your face heat up and your heart flutter at the thought. “i think armani would be such a great big sister. she’s already so nurturing as it is. plus, she’s playful, imaginative, and dramatic—thanks to her dad.” you smirk at his feigned offense,

“i beg your pardon. i think she takes that dramatic part after you.”

“says the literal actor.” you quickly retort. he raises his right hand in surrender,

“got me there.”

you both dissolve into laughter for it to die down before resuming the conversation. nicholas expression turned more serious for a moment, gently taking your left hand within his and peering into your eyes. “but it’s not just about armani, y’know, it’s about us too. are we ready for that?” you took a moment, reflecting once more on the joy that armani brought into your lives despite the circumstances. “baby, i think we could handle it. we have our jobs and our home. plus, we make a pretty good team, you know?” you pause, another thought popping into your mind that could further convince him,

“besides, this could be a chance for you to not be the only guy in the house. you’re a boss at being a girl dad no doubt, but deep down you’d want a little nick causing havoc with you.” with a chuckle, his gaze softened, and he leaned in closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “you had me convinced at havoc.” he pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw before peppering more along the line and descending to your neck. he then held onto you to lay you down against the mattress, straddling your body.

“you think we should start trying now?” his smirking lips ghosted over yours for a second before closing the gap between you in a slow, sensual kiss. after indulging in each other for a moment, he pulls back to place his forehead on yours with a gaze mixed of both romance and lust.

“there’s still one gift we haven’t exchanged yet.” he teased, returning his lips to yours as his hands slowly go under your pajama shirt. you giggle and hum softly encouraging him as you felt the temperature of your body rise with every touch to your skin. just as he was about to lift it up, there was a knock at your bedroom door,

“mommy, daddy! can you help me? i wanna play on my ipad.” you and nicholas quickly separate with a sigh and chuckle as you were both back to reality. nicholas rolls himself from on top of you and pulls the covers away to stand and stretch,

“i’m coming, butterfly! gimme a minute, okay?” he calls out before turning to you,

“duty calls. i’ll handle this now then i’ll handle you later?” he asked shooting you a wink.

you giggle with a nod, he was the same flirt that you met five years ago.

“go on. do your thing! i’ll be waiting with your gift right here.” you slyly respond, laying across the bed with your chin resting in your palm.

“oh, you better.” he said, opening the door to greet your daughter and promptly attending to her needs. as you peer out of the window at the snowy blizzard outside, you realize that this christmas, you couldn’t ask for anything better than what you have right now.

[kingkunigami]

— Kunigami Rensuke

Masterlist.

Keeping every other player on their toes was the true goal. Reminding them that he deserved his place— that he was meant to be here. But Kunigami wouldn’t deny that obtaining a prize that every other man on the field coveted was a good enough reward. He really was the wildcard, in every sense of the word.

Warnings: 18+, dubcon, spit, Kunigami’s got an oral fixation, blow jobs, no prep, unprotected sex, light choking, squirting, creampie.

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x f!reader.

Word Count: 2.8k.

If there was ever a man who didn’t appear to want the prize he’d rightfully won, it would be Kunigami Rensuke. Lingering in the doorway as you felt the cool chill seep into the room from behind him, prickling against your form as goosebumps began to appear against your forearms. The sheer lingerie doing little to hide your exposed skin as you shuffled on your knees against the soft sheets, your nipples hardening against pretty lace as you watched his tongue slip out to wet his lips.

It was as though this prize wasn’t good enough, that he was still searching for more. Every trophy and accolade he rightfully stole from every other player put on the field would never matter until his name was positioned at number one.

Keeping every other player on their toes was the true goal. Reminding them that he deserved his place— that he was meant to be here. But Kunigami wouldn’t deny that obtaining a prize that every other man on the field coveted was a good enough reward for now, stealing a last minute shot at goal instead of passing to Chigiri to land the ball in the top left corner— barely an inch from the post. A chance that had paid off well now that he was standing where the other twenty-one men on the field wished they could be.

No one would deny that he’d been through a lot to get this far— probably far more than most. A man that had tasted the disgusting bile of failure rise in his throat, the defeat one he promised himself he would never feel again. Arguably working far harder than his teammates to reclaim his position at the top, biting at the ankles of his competitors as he allowed natural selection to take place.

And Kunigami couldn’t lie, it felt good to be victorious. So used to the pack mentality of victory, succeeding at the hands of others. But this one? It was his. You were his. And he would return to the rest of his team with a story to prove it.

He took four long strides to meet you at the foot of the bed, like a lion stalking its prey as he towered over you. His hand was gentle when he cupped your cheek, leaning into his touch as you grasped onto the warmth of it. Feeling a rush of blood pump through your veins when you looked up to meet his burning gaze, enough to scorch your skin as you felt it set fire to you all the way down to your core.

“They were right,” He murmurs, “You are really pretty.”

Your heart jumped at his words, thinking about what sort of things the footballers said about you. Picturing them crowded around in their changing room at half-time, doused in dirt and sweat as they spilled their pure depravity. Talking about every filthy thought they had about you, or the lewd opinions of those who’d had a taste. Your clit pulsing in response as you swallowed thickly, wondering what Kunigami’s role had been in the conversation.

“So,” He hummed, tracing the calloused pad of his thumb over your glossy lips, the stickiness tacking you to him, “What can I do to you?”

“Anything.”

“Shit,” A groan rumbled from deep in his chest, his eyes fluttering as he felt his cock pulse beneath his shorts, “Anything?”

“Yeah—” Kunigami pushed his thumb past your lips as soon as he felt you part them to speak, pressing down on the pad of your tongue as your lips closed around it. Staring up at him obediently through thick lashes as you hollowed your cheeks, causing a deep blazing heat to burn in his pelvis.

“Fuck,” He growled, pumping his thumb slowly as his palm caged your jaw. Tilting your head as he used his strong grip you open your mouth, pursing his lips as he spat into your open mouth, “Hold it.”

You felt the moisture collect at the back of your throat from the way your head was tilted, your tongue wobbles as he draws back to dip his thumbs into the hem of his shorts. Pulling them down enough to free his heady cock, the tip swollen and bruised deep crimson as a a pearlescent glob of pre beads at the tip. You whimpered at the debauched sight, his spit gargling at the back of your throat as you squeezed your thighs together in a feeble attempt to alleviate the ache throbbing between them.

“Fu-uck,” Kunigami groaned as he felt the warmth of your mouth engulf him when he guided his cock inside you, deliberately smearing his pre against your pouty lips as he watched you begin to bob your head obediently.

The sordid stories he’d heard in the showers after practise were nothing compared to the sight of you in front of him like this now. His cock disappearing inside your wet mouth as his hips stilled to watch the way you leaned forward to try and take more of him.

“Cute,” He hummed when the confidence grew inside you as you tried to take a little too much of him, feeling his swollen tip hit the back of your throat as you pulled back with a gag. Spluttering as spit began to drool down your chin, landing on your chest as you regained your breath. Kunigami couldn’t help himself as he leaned forward to tug at the straps of your bra, tugging them along your shoulders as he pulled the cups down enough to free your round tits.

He sucked a hiss through gritted teeth when you tried again, your spit drying against his length as you engulfed him in warmth once more. His slender fingers reached down to toy with your stiffened peaks as he tugged one between his thumb and forefinger, “You like that?”

You tried to speak around him, slurring your words as he smirked in satisfaction. Pulling your nipple away from your body to let it go, your breast bouncing back into place in favour of him reaching his palm around the back of your neck. Cradling your head at the base of your skull as he begun to thrust his hips forward into your mouth, deliberately trying to press his leaking tip against the back of your mouth with each forward motion. Drawing more debauched noises from your throat, as more spit pooled down onto your bare breasts.

“You’re such a mess,” He groaned, his hand tight at the back of your head as he held you down on his length. Watching as pearly tears begun to clump in your lashes as they blurred your vision, gagging as his thick tip pressed against your throat. Cutting off your oxygen supply as he continued to hold you firm and steady, jaw locked with intent as he pushed you further. Your nose buried in the messy nest of hair at the base of his cock as you took in every inch of him; Cutting off any chance of breathing, thick tears now streaming down the apples of your cheeks as your hands came up to claw at his muscular thighs. Leaving dark, crimson lines against the skin as you clawed at him for relief.

“That’s it, you got it—” The lack of oxygen how had your eyes rolling back into your skull as Kunigami finally took pity on you, easing his grip with a sharp hiss as you marked him, “Good girl.”

Glistening strings of spit and pre snapped off between your bodies, sticking to your chin as you looked at the deep gashes you’d left against his skin. Low enough on his thighs to be seen when he was wearing his shorts out on the pitch, and that’s exactly what Kunigami wanted— his teammates would probably think him far too much of a prude to do anything with you, but he’d show them. A cocky, knowing smirk on his lips when he prepared in the locker room before practise.

You squealed when he bent down to curl his palms around your thighs. His heavy cock glistening with your spit as it bobbed from the sudden motion, pulling your legs out from beneath you as your back met the satin sheets. Pulling you to the edge of the bed as though you weighed nothing until your ass was practically hanging off the edge of it. Thighs either side of his muscular frame as he was gifted the perfect view between your thighs, noticing the dark stain on the fabric as he brushed his knuckles against it. Smirking when your sensitive body jolted upon contact.

“So you said I can do anything,” Kunigami mused, pressing his thumb down against your clothed clit, “That mean I can fuck this pussy raw?”

“Yes,” You gasped, shamelessly spreading your legs wider to give him more access as he began to trace his fingers along the apex of your thighs, dangerously close to the hem of your panties.

The position he had you in left you nowhere to plant your feet, almost uncomfortable as you fought to hold your legs in the air, pressing your legs against his hips as Kunigami pulled your panties to the side to reveal your lustrous cunt to his eager gaze.

“Shit,” He shook his head, darkened eyes hidden behind his messy mop of ginger hair, “Is there anything I can’t do?”

“No,” You answered truthfully. So desperate for some kind of relief you truly would’ve allowed him to do anything to you in this moment, to use your body in any sick and twisted way he deemed fit.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” Kunigami snarled, roughly pushing your thighs back towards your chest as he curled his tall body over you. His rigid cock laid flat along the length of your creamy slit as you felt his weighty balls press against the curve of your ass, “And you’re gonna take it.”

The thick veins that forked along the length of him grazed your clit as he smoothed himself in your slick, the swollen tip of his cock catching against your tight ill-prepped hole as he pressed two fingers inside you crudely. A debauched squelch sounding around the room from how wet you are, as he began to scissor them roughly in a feeble attempt at prepping you for the sheer length of him.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the feeling of him breaching your tight heat, stealing the wind from your lungs as the length to his cock immediately had him spearing your insides. What he made up for in girth, he compensated for when his swollen tip nudged your cervix.

“Oh, fuck.”

With his feet still poised on the ground, Kunigami hovered over you and began to fuck into you hard and precise. Determined to have you remembering him over all of his competition— Wanting to be your number one.

You felt the weight behind his thrusts as his full balls slapped against your ass with each forward motion, echoing in your ears but drowned out by the sultry moans that escaped past your parted lips. His darkened eyes almost black as they stare down at you with such scrutiny that you can’t match his gaze, letting your head lull to the side as he keeps himself folded over you. Your tits bouncing with the ferocity of his thrusts.

No longer the prized golden boy you’d once seen at the start of the program, now a tainted man with the weight of the world on his shoulders as he let every ounce of emotion pour out into his pace.

Kunigami pressed his palm flat against your sternum before sliding along your clavicle, weaving his fingers around the column of your neck as you felt the tips of his fingers press into your jaw. Turning your head back to face him as you met his gaze, clenching around him in response as his palm began to tighten around your windpipe.

The head of his cock kissed your cervix with each forward motion, and he was so deep inside you were certain you could feel him in your lungs. The constricting of air only increased the sensation as your walls pulsed around him, squeezing his length as you began to feel the telltale signs of your release. Far too pent up to try and fight it as you lay helpless beneath him, feeble attempts at his name spilling from between your parted lips.

“They didn’t fuck you like this, did they?” Kunigami was eager to prove himself to you. Hungry and desperate for this sick source of validation that would hold him above all the others, to place him at number one, “They didn’t make you feel as good as me?”

And you couldn’t answer even if you’d wanted to. The pleasure building inside you made it difficult to think of anything other than the way he managed to keep you dangling on the edge of your release. Desperate for something that would have you tumbling over the edge, to have you coming undone for him.

Sacrificing his grip around your neck in favour of pressing a palm flat against your pelvis, pulling back the hood of your clit as his calloused thumb pressed messy circles against it. The weight of him enough to increase the pressure to breaking point as you began to writhe beneath him, trying to ignore the dull throb from your bladder as you fought back the relief. Your pliant walls tightening around him in response as he sneered down at you through bared teeth.

“I can’t, I’m gonna pee!” You flushed, wide panicked eyes staring up at him.

“Don’t fight it, just let go.” He pressed down harder, strumming your puffy clit as your toes began to curl. Crying out his name as you felt a warm, wet stream of squirt begin to gush against his pelvis. His hand quick to intercept it and have it flying in all directions. Soaking his palm and the sheets beneath you as he grinned in satisfaction.

“That’s it—” He groaned, ignoring your pleas for him to give you a moments respite, “Just like that.”

You weren’t sure you had anything left to give as your climax hit you like a freight train, trembling around him as Kunigami still managed to coax more streams out of your willing body. Almost as wet as the tears that streaked down your temples from overstimulation as your body trembled beneath him.

“Bet no one else has made you do that, hm?” He groaned, the crude squelch echoed in your ears as the heat boiled inside you.

Kunigami pressed his hands against the back of your thighs as he resumed his frantic pace, the muscles in his body constricting as he used you for his own release. Working himself towards his climax as he leaned his weight over you to smash his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss that was all tongue and teeth, feeling you clench around him at the sensation as he found his release. Groaning against your lips as his warm breath fanned your skin and he spilled his release into your velvety walls. His hips still rutting as he fucked his cum deep inside you, reluctantly pulling away when he had nothing left to give.

He kept his grip on your thighs when he pulled out of your spent cunt, watching your fluttering hole slowly start to push his spend out in thick white globs as it drooled down your slit towards your asshole. He wished he’d brought a phone in to document the scene, a filthy snapshot to share in the lockerroom the next day to prove his worth. His fingers quick to collect his spunk as he scooped it up with his fingers to push it back inside you, cherishing the final tremors of you around him as he pulled your panties back in place. Giving a final pat to the crotch as he pulled away from you, staring down at you with a shy smile.

It was like he was a different man now, smooth hands stroking along your aching thighs as he pressed a kiss to your knee.

“I— uh, can I get you anything?” He mumbled shyly, the powerful intense man gone as he finally revealed the soft glow in his auburn eyes.

“You don’t have to,” You smiled, letting your fingers run through his hair as your nails grazed his scalp. Letting his cheek rest against your inner thigh as he stared up at you.

“Well— do you want to cuddle?” He seemed nervous to even ask.

“Isn’t that a waste of your time?” You whispered, knowing the real reason for why each man was really here.

“It would never be a waste of time,” Kunigami moved to hover above you, his sticky cock pressed against your inner thigh, “And besides, I’ll be back again tomorrow.”

[crowsofdarkness]

Arranged: Chapter Nine

*gif not mine. credit to owner*

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12 & ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: If anyone who is interested wants to be tagged, let me know!

The smell of coffee was trapped in my nose as I poured two full cups before setting the pot back, a smile on my face. Thoughts of last night kept replaying in my mind and I haven’t been able to stop smiling since I woke up a bit ago. 

Bucky had returned home last night sometime after midnight and let me know with a soft kiss to the forehead before retreating back into his room. When I awoke this morning, there was a note from him saying he had a meeting right away at 10 am but was free the rest of the day so we could do whatever I wanted. 

The only thing I wanted to do was pick up where we left off last night before Steve interrupted. 

With both mugs in hand, I quickly made my way down the long hallway towards Bucky’s office, knowing I had a few minutes before his meeting and figured he would like a warm cup of coffee to start it. 

The door was open so with a soft knock, I walked in only to freeze in place at what I had seen. 

There was one man who I had remembered seeing outside of the lab the other day holding open a briefcase that held 10 vials of some kind of blue liquid. 

Dr. Banner, I remember Bucky and Steve calling him that. 

There was another man, darker skin than the rest, and he stood behind Banner with a hand ghosting over the gun on his hip. 

Steve and Bucky were standing across from the two men, them each holding a vial of the liquid. When I walked into the room, both of their eyes landed onto me. Anger filled Bucky’s eyes and he hurriedly placed the vial back into the briefcase before slamming it shut. 

His jaw glanced while lips snarled  in anger, eyes cutting deep into me. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Bucky asked. 

I held up the cups of coffee before setting them down on his desk. “I thought you would want some before your meeting. Clearly it started earlier than you said.” 

Bucky gripped my elbow and led me into the hallway, spewing curses falling from his lips. 

“Did you even bother to check the door?” He snapped.

I ripped my arm out of his grasp and placed my weight onto my left foot. “Yes, it was wide open and I even knocked before coming in.” 

“Go upstairs, I’ll talk to you later.” 

I sliced my eyes into him. “Are you going to tell me what I just walked into?” 

Bucky grasped my wrist and began leading me towards the stairs which only made me more furious and this time, I yanked myself free while pushing him back slightly. 

“Don’t you put your hands on me again!” I pointed a finger at him. 

He ran a hand over his face. “Y/N, I’m not saying it again. Go upstairs. NOW!”

I jumped slightly at the sudden change in his voice but didn’t let it phase me. 

“Is it drugs? Is that what this whole secrecy is because you’re selling or buying drugs?” I questioned with my arms over my chest. “Was your guy going to shoot the doctor after he gave you those vials? Got what you wanted so now you don’t need him anymore?” 

“It’s none of your business,” Bucky began. 

“The hell it isn't!” I snapped, my voice without a doubt being heard by the men in his office. “You brought me into this mess the second we signed the papers!” 

It had only been a few days but I was already sick of the lies and secrets, I needed Bucky to tell me the truth on what he’s into. I was his wife now. 

“Why did you even sign them?!” Bucky wondered, hands on his hips. “You hesitated signing them.” 

“Oh my god,” I pinched my eyes shut, a sudden headache rattling my brain. “It was nothing, Bucky; nerves.”

“Bullshit! Why did you hesitate?” Bucky drilled the question again.  

“Because I don’t want this!” I screamed. “I wanted to marry someone I love, someone that I can see having a family with. Someone that doesn’t hide shit from me. And someone that doesn’t fucking kill people for a living!” 

Bucky’s eyes flashed with hatred at my words. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” 

I scoffed while standing on my toes. “I thought that after last night we were finally in a good place. I was starting to feel something for you. How fucking wrong I was.” 

He sliced his eyes into me. “What kind of woman needs her parents to set her up in a marriage? How pathetic. I’m starting to think I should have found the first broad I found in the city and married her. At least she would give me what I want.” 

My heart shattered, falling into the depths of my stomach and I could feel the corner of my eyes well up. But I refused to let him know that his words cut deep. The Bucky from last night was nowhere in sight. This one was meaner and I suddenly wanted nothing to do with this one. 

“Go fuck yourself, Bucky. We might be married now but that doesnt mean I have to be seen with you,” I seethed. 

With another shake of my head, I left him to go back to whatever he had been doin prior in his office; tears falling freely over my cheeks. 

Silence. 

That's all that was heard throughout the large home for the last couple of days, me being the only one here. After our huge fight, Bucky left for a business trip, Barb’s words. She was here the first day he left but I told her she didn’t need to stay for me and gave her the rest of the week off. 

Something she was grateful for. 

Steve had to go with Bucky, meaning that if I were to go out it would be on my own without any protection. Which really didn’t matter to me because I ended up being held up in my room. He had sent me a text earlier today to let me know that he would be arriving back home tonight. I didn’t even bother to reply. 

There were some hurtful things hurled by the both of us and it wasn’t something I was going to sweep under the rug. I would be willing to apologize, only if he was as well. 

My phone began to buzz on my table and I answered it with a groan, not bothering to check who was calling. 

“Well hello to you too, dear. Rough day?” 

I sat up in bed more and sighed. “Hi mom. Sorry, I was asleep.” 

“Oh sorry for waking you. I just wanted to check in and see how marriage life is going?” 

“Great,” I lied, not bothering to tell her about the fight. I didn’t want her to think things weren’t great. 

Even if they weren’t. 

“Good! Your father and I knew Bucky was the right choice for you, you two complement each other so well.” 

I shook my head. “Mom, do you even know who he is?” 

“He owns the laboratory in town. All the papers say he’s been finding the next cure for some kind of sickness, ya know? He’s such a good man, Y/N.” 

“Look, I’m tired and don’t really feel like talking right now. Can I call you later?” I asked. 

“Sweetheart, everything alright? Because if it’s not, you can talk to me.” 

I scoffed. “No offense mom but the reason why I’m feeling like this is because you guys forced me to marry this complete stranger who you know nothing about! I barely know him and you and dad practically threw me into his arms. Did you even ask if he wanted this? Because he fucking doesnt!” 

“Watch your language, Y.N! I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut while pressing a hand to my forehead. “I’m really not in the mood to deal with this shit now.” 

Before I could hear my mom yell some more, I hung up the phone and tossed it into the drawer of the table next to me. The last thing I wanted at this moment was to deal with her disappointment in the fact that I wasn’t giving this marriage a try. 

I went back to the book that I had almost forgotten I was reading before the phone call and let the rest of the night pass with no other issues, that was until Bucky returned home. With my open door, I heard Bucky ascend the stairs, letting out a deep breath once he reached the top. I peaked over the top of my book and looked out into the hallway where Bucky stood with his hands deep into his pockets, tired eyes staring at me. 

Even if I was upset with him, he still looked breathtaking in his black sweats with a matching sweater. His usual combed back hair was a mess, strands falling all into his face due to the traveling. His whole aura screamed ‘cuddle with me’ but I needed to hold my composure; I wouldn’t fold first. 

My eyes returned back to my book and I heard Bucky let out another deep sigh before he disappeared into his room, the door slamming behind him. 

Some time had passed and my eyelids became heavy, sleep slowly overtaking my body and I set the book down, ready to close my eyes and forget about the last week. My phone, however, began ringing non stop in the drawer next to me. I ignored it, thinking it was my mom again, but when it rang for a third time, I knew that it had to have been something more important. 

“Hello?” I answered. 

“Hi, is this Mrs. Barnes?” 

My heart flipped. It had been the first time I heard myself being called that. 

“Uh, yeah. Who is this?” 

“This is Detective Roth with the NYPD. We’re calling on behalf of your parents.” 

I sat up in bed with a quick start. “Are they alright?” 

“No, I’m sorry. They’re bodies were found in their homes just a few minutes ago. We believed that they were murdered.” 

The detective's voice had become white noise as my brain began processing the new information. 

My parents were dead? 

Murdered?

In their own home? 

I then remembered the phone call I had with my mom just an hour ago and I let out a strangled sob, realizing that was our last conversation. My bottom lip trembled as I let out a shaky breath before the tears began to fall, droplets falling onto the blanket and a loud sob choked its way out of my throat. Tears collected into my eyelashes and I swatted them away. 

“No!” I wailed, tossing the phone across the room. “NO!” 

Sobs attacked my entire body as I writhed underneath the blanket, the pain overtaking me as I continued to scream. 

“Doll?” 

Bucky’s voice was muffled through my sobs and he was blurred due to the tears filling my eyes.

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky was in my bed in an instant, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. I grasped at hsi shirt, tears staining it immediately. I sobbed, loudly, as I tried to tell him what happened. 

He hushed my cries with a kiss to my hairline and rubbed circles on my back, hoping it would calm me. 

“What happened, Y/N?” Bucky asked once more. 

I looked up at him, tears falling from my swollen eyes. “My parents are dead. Someone killed them.” 

Sobs broke out of me again as my body writhed in his grasp and I buried my face back into Bucky’s chest. I hadn’t noticed the large scowl that came to his face as he wrapped his arms even tighter around me. 

“It’s alright, doll. I’m here.” Bucky cooed into my ear.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hello :) could you do a poly!marauders with a reader who has a really bad fear of spiders and then helping her? (Like she will cry at the sight or can’t sleep if she’s thinking of them haha) :))

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: poly!Marauders x Reader

You were tucked comfortably into bed, surrounded by the warmth of three of your four boyfriends—Remus on your left, Sirius on your right, and James sprawled across the foot of the bed, his head resting on your legs. Peter had just popped out to grab some snacks, which left you all in a peaceful, sleepy state.

Or at least, it was peaceful until it happened.

You had glanced up at the ceiling to admire the star-shaped stickers glowing faintly in the dark. But instead of the comforting sight of twinkling stars, your eyes landed on a spider. A big, hairy, terrifying spider dangling right above you.

A spider.

Your heart dropped. It wasn’t just any spider—it was massive. Okay, maybe not massive, but to you, it might as well have been the size of a dragon. Frozen, you let out a small whimper, your eyes glued to the eight-legged terror.

Sirius was the first to notice your panic. He dropped the magazine he was flipping through and leaned closer. “Babe? You alright?”

Your body froze, and a strangled squeak escaped your lips.

"What's wrong, love?" Remus asked, his voice soft with concern. He leaned up on his elbow to look at you, but all you could do was point a trembling finger at the ceiling, eyes wide with terror.

Sirius frowned, following your gaze. The moment his eyes landed on the spider, his own face scrunched up. "Bloody hell, that thing's huge."

That was it. Panic set in, and you scrambled to the foot of the bed, practically clambering over James, who was still half-asleep, blissfully unaware of the eight-legged horror hanging above.

"What—ow! What’s going on?" James groaned as you elbowed him, trying to escape.

"Spider!" you cried, voice cracking as you buried yourself behind him, using him as a shield. "There's a huge spider on the ceiling!"

Remus sat up, sighing deeply. “It’s just a spider, love. No need to—”

But then he saw it, and even the normally composed Remus faltered. "That’s... quite the specimen."

Sirius, already on his feet, grabbed one of James’s trainers off the floor. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ve got this. I’ll be your knight in shining armor.”

James groaned as Sirius stepped on the bed, ready for battle. “Hey! Careful where you—OW!—step!”

But as Sirius swung at the spider, the little devil dropped lower from its web, dodging him. That was enough to send you into full meltdown mode.

“I can’t! I—can’t sleep knowing it’s here! It’s going to crawl on me! I’ll die!” You wailed, tears welling up as you hugged James’s back for dear life. “No!” you yelped, grabbing his arm. “Don’t squish it! Then it’ll haunt me forever. Just—just get rid of it!”

Remus shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “I’ll get a jar.”

“I’m not sleeping if it’s anywhere near this flat, Moony,” you warned. “You have to throw it far.”

James gave you a comforting smile, kissing the top of your head. “We’ll make sure it’s gone.”

Sirius climbed onto the couch, making exaggerated swipes at the ceiling with James's trainers. “I’m gonna get you, little bugger—”

“Sirius!” you shrieked, half laughing, half sobbing as he missed it completely. The spider scurried toward the corner, which sent another wave of panic through you. “Get it away!”

Remus sighed and calmly approached with the jar in hand. “Padfoot, quit messing around.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Sirius said, jumping down from the couch with a dramatic flourish. “You heard the lady, no squishing.”

“Careful, Moony! It’s coming right at you!” Sirius shrieked.

At that moment, Peter strolled back into the room, holding a bag of crisps and a bottle of pumpkin juice. "What's all the noise?"

James, with you still clinging to him, pointed upward. “Spider crisis.”

Peter looked up, spotted the spider, and to everyone's surprise, casually walked over with a tissue. “You’re all acting like babies.” He reached up, gently plucked the spider from its web, and without so much as a flinch, opened the window to let it out.

Silence filled the room as all four of you stared at Peter, dumbfounded.

“Did... did Peter just save us?” Sirius muttered, lowering James’s shoe.

James blinked, still processing. “I’m questioning everything right now.”

You, on the other hand, exhaled a deep breath of relief and finally let go of James, wiping your teary eyes. “Th-thank you, Pete. You’re my hero.”

Peter grinned, giving you a little bow. “All in a day's work.”

Remus chuckled and patted Peter on the back. “Well, thank Merlin someone here can handle spiders.”

Sirius quickly recovered and threw his arms around you dramatically. “But it was me who grabbed the shoe first! I was ready to lay down my life for you, love.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his over-the-top antics, feeling the tension ease from your body. “Yes, Sirius, you’re very brave.”

“Oi, what about me? I cushioned her from all the drama!” James said, twisting around to pull you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you snugly. “Best spider shield in the business.”

Peter flopped down on the bed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Next time, just call me. Spider-slayer Pete, at your service.”

You couldn’t help but smile, surrounded by all four of your boys, safe and sound. “I feel like I should bake Peter cookies now.”

“Hey, don’t spoil him! He’ll get used to it!” Sirius teased, poking Peter in the side.

You chuckled as you started to stand up to bake cookies for Peter when you suddenly looked around, "You guys are sure it's gone right?"

Sirius slung an arm around you with a devilish grin. “Oh, it might have babies. They could be anywhere now…”

Your face drained of color, and you swatted his arm with a groan. “Sirius!”

James shot Sirius a warning look but couldn’t help laughing as well. “Alright, mate, stop scaring her.”

“I’m just teasing!” Sirius pouted, pulling you into a playful hug. “I’d never let a spider near you, promise. Not while Pete's around.”

You buried your face in Sirius’s chest, half-laughing, half-sighing. “You’re the worst.”

Peter sat next to you, patting your knee comfortingly. “You know we’ll always protect you. Spiders included.”

With James still holding you, Sirius on one side and Peter on the other, Remus beside Peter, you finally started to relax, your heart calming down. “Thanks, guys,” you whispered.

James kissed your temple. “Of course, darling. We’ve got you.”

Sirius snickered. “Now, if it was a snake, that would’ve been another story…”

You groaned again, but this time it was full of affection. “Never change, Sirius.”