#its been a difficult few days to say the least | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mystic-writings · 4 months ago

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we’re just fine | daryl dixon

PAIRING — Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader

SUMMARY — after the fall of the prison, you find yourself in alexandria, alone. two months later, your family finds their way back to you.

WARNINGS — angst, canon-typical violence/situations, pregnancy, fluff

WORD COUNT — 5,000

NOTES — idk what happened to me all i know is i blacked out and then this was made. enjoy i guess

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Despite the pure monotonous routine you’d gotten used to during your two months in Alexandria, you couldn’t say that it wasn’t sometimes extremely boring. Your only saving grace was the mealtimes you had with Aaron and Eric at the end of the day. At least they had the sense and experience outside the walls to be able to carry out a conversation that wasn’t about what food you were eating or how the weather was.

It was why you hated when they went out on recruitment runs. As their roommate, you felt awkward being in the home by yourself when they left the walls; as though you were intruding. You felt that way in a lot of aspects. An intruder on a perfect life that these people had grown used to in the wake of the apocalypse. A life where their only worry was whether or not Aiden and Nicholas would find the right ingredients for the food they’d planned on cooking during their supply runs.

But there was nothing to be done aside from making a meal for one, eating alone with only a soft classical music CD to fill the silence, and to wait for the couple to come back home so you would have normal people to talk to.

You were glad for them and the runs they went on, though. Or they never would’ve found you, and you’d likely be dead in a ditch by now.

Your hand shook as you gripped the handle of your blade, wide eyes searching the pharmacy for any signs of walkers, or people. Being on the road alone for as long as you had been was making you feel like you’d gone crazy. Maybe you had already.

Sweeping the small aisles, you found no signs of life. Most of the shelves were already empty, likely having been raided during the early days. Still, you grabbed whatever was available to you, shoving it into your bag before ducking into a corner, knees pressed to your chest as you rooted around for one of the final few cans of food you had left.

You’d been rationing out what used to be a plentiful supply for a few weeks now. One can of food per day, nothing more. A lot of what you had was thanks to the traffic blockages on the highways and interstates you’d wandered along on your way out of Georgia. What used to be two cans a day for almost three weeks turned into one for the past week and a half, bordering on two.

The lack of food wasn’t your only issue anymore. With no signs of life from your former group, you had every reason to believe that they were all dead. Logically, you knew they weren’t. You’d seen some of them escape in the firefight, yourself included. But without any real way of tracking them down, they were as good as dead. Not to mention the sudden and constant fatigue that the southern sun seemed to give to you, making traveling more difficult than you had originally planned.

Even with no end in sight, no real indicator that the man you called your husband was still alive, and no true hope for your future, you still persisted. You found places to sleep for the night, whether in abandoned cars or gas stations off of turnpikes. You found just enough food to supply you for a few more days if you managed to stretch it thin enough, and you kept going.

Just as you were about to crack open a can of corn, the crunching of glass and shuffling of footsteps alerted you to the body that had just entered the pharmacy. Its footfalls sounded too heavy and spaced out to be anything but a human.

Gripping onto your knife, you held your breath and gently placed the can on the floor. With your bag still on your shoulders, you kept your body crouched and your ears peeled, moving around the person — no, people — moving around the pharmacy.

“I’m telling you, we’ve already been here. There’s nothing left to take,” a voice reasoned.

The footsteps ceased for a moment, and you paused, praying they hadn’t heard you. “I know. Doesn’t hurt to check, though, right? I mean, we can’t exactly go back empty handed. Aiden’ll have something to say about it.”

“But we aren’t out here for supplies,” the other stressed, “we’re out here for people, remember? New members?”

“I know,” their partner chuckled, footsteps resuming as they rounded the last aisle. You ducked between the shelves closest to the door, hoping to just outrun them and not have to fight them. There was a pause, a palpable beat, before he spoke again. “But I think we might not be coming back alone.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the former’s words. He knew you were in here. He’d seen your can of food, or heard your shuffling around the pharmacy. In an instant, you were at your full height, eyes wide as your fingers clutched your knife tighter and you ran, against your better judgment, toward the pair. The blond was the one closest to you, his back facing your front. With as much energy as you could muster, you hooked your arm over his shoulder, dragging him to your chest as you pressed your knife to his throat. It wasn’t hard enough to do any real damage, but you knew that if you absolutely had to, you’d apply pressure.

“Who are you?” You spat, hand shaking as it gripped the knife. “What do you want?”

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s okay. We’re not here to hurt you.” The brunet immediately jumped into negotiation mode, putting his hands in front of him. The position reminded you of Rick, oddly enough, and your heart twinged as you adjusted your grip on the knife.

“Then what are you here for?” You spat. “Like you said, there’s nothing worth taking here.”

The faintest of whimpers escaped the lips of the man you held hostage, dragging both yours and the brunet’s attention to him. “We’re just—” the blond gulped. “We’re recruiters. We have a camp not too far from here. A safe one. We’re looking for people to join us. People who have— have experience, out here.”

His words, as stuttery and fearful as they were, confused you.

“I’m Aaron,” the brunet said, keeping his arms up in surrender as he slowly slid the backpack from his shoulders. “That man you have is my partner, Eric. Everything he’s saying is right, and I can show you. I have pictures and a brochure in my bag, if you’ll let me get it.”

Hesitantly, you nodded. Even if he had a weapon, most of your body was blocked by his partner — Eric. There was a highly likely chance that he wouldn’t try to harm you while you kept his friend in your grip, however weak it was becoming.

Slowly, Aaron reached into his bag, pulling out exactly what he said he would. With Eric still in your grip, he showed you pictures of the place he and his friend called home — Alexandria. “Look,” Aaron sighed, stepping back a bit. “You seem like someone we could use. You have experience that we lack. Plus, it seems like you’ve been out here by yourself a while. We have walls, food, running water, and proper shelter. And if you decide to come with us, our leader, Deanna, will interview you. If she allows you in and you don’t like it, you can leave any time you want. We won’t keep you there if you don’t want to be, okay?”

With a shaking nod, you let go of Eric, nudging him toward Aaron, who enveloped the other man in a tight hug. “I— I can leave if I want to, right?”

“Of course, you can. No one will stop you, and that’s a promise.”

It took a bit of getting used to, but you were glad that Aaron and Eric had found you that day. You’d been skeptical of things in Alexandria for the first few days, but you warmed to the entire situation a lot easier than you thought you would. You supposed it was because of how things were at the prison, but even then you weren’t alone.

Aaron and Eric, while not pushing the topic often, had managed to get to know enough about you and where you came from before they’d found you that they considered you a close friend.

You’d only told them the briefest of answers. That you were with a large group in Georgia from the beginning, that you’d been with one of them for most of that time — even, at some point, considering yourselves to be married, though the symbol you’d had to show it had been lost months ago — and then another group came along and took everything away from you, simply because they could.

The safety and privacy that the couple provided was something you were more than grateful for, even if you were sure you wouldn’t be able to have it forever.

Because while Aaron and Eric, along with the rest of Alexandria, provided a structure and a sense of normalcy for you, you couldn’t shake the grief that fell upon you every time you were alone.

The thought of Daryl being out there, combing every inch of Georgia for you while you were so far away, was enough to bring you to tears. It was another thing to think about the possibility of his rotting corpse roaming the woods in search of something living to eat. The thought that you’d never see him again, dead or alive. That you’d just push through life — however much longer that would be for you — without him, even though he promised you’d never have to go through something like that.

The thought of your baby never knowing who their father was, and their father never knowing who they were, either.

You could go an entire lifetime without ever seeing Daryl again, and the idea of it nearly killed you when he was still around. It hurt a hundred times worse now that it was practically a reality.

The night passed without word from or the arrival of Aaron and Eric. It was common for them to be gone a while at a time — this particular trip lasting almost a week — but you hated sleeping in the house by yourself now. You were so used to waking up to Eric clattering dishes in the kitchen that waking up midday when they were gone only proved how fatigued you seemed to feel nowadays.

Waking up to a knock on the door wasn’t unusual as of late, but it was certainly unpleasant. You were, however, grateful for the fact that when you were given a room at Aaron and Eric’s, it was on the first floor.

Rolling out of bed got harder and harder with each passing week, but you managed it anyway. The knocking persisted, and you sighed as you made your way into the living room, shouting out, “I’m coming!”

The knocking ceased, and you pulled on the fabric of your shirt before answering the door, only to find Jessie. “Oh, hey,”

“Hi, hon,” she smiled, and you felt bad for being upset at her moments before. “Pete sent me over, said you were supposed to see him this morning?”

“Oh, shit, Jessie I’m so sorry,” you said, brushing some stray hair from your face. “I overslept, normally Aaron—”

Jessie smiled warmly, reaching out and putting a gentle hand on your arm. “I understand, Y/n, no need to worry. Just get dressed and head over to the infirmary. It’s not like Pete’s in any real rush.”

“Alright,” you nodded, bidding Jessie goodbye and closing the door as she headed down the porch steps.

Padding your way through the home, you went back to your room, pulling on some fresh clothes before freshening up in the bathroom. Routines like these were simple, but they kept you sane. You’d had something a little closer to it at the prison, but it was nowhere near as nice as it was in Alexandria.

After eating a small breakfast, you were out of the house and on your way to the infirmary. The streets were quiet, as always, and the sun was anything but forgiving. People smiled and waved, and you did the same, even if you didn’t know half of the people in this place. Even after being here for two months, it was hard to remember such trivial things about so many people. Plus, putting names to faces was never one of your strong suits.

Stepping into the infirmary, you were grateful for the burst of air conditioning that fell over your body. Smiling, you greeted Denise and Pete, the former of the two sitting on one of the beds as she pored over the book in her lap.

“Alright, let’s take a look at you. Sound good?” Pete smiled, and you nodded back.

While you hauled yourself onto the bed, Pete readied the ultrasound equipment. Pulling back the loose shirt you wore, your eyes glued themselves to the obvious, albeit still small, bump you were sporting.

“Hey, I’m about four months along now, right?” You asked, eyes darting up to Pete, who confirmed with a nod. “That means you can see the baby’s gender, doesn’t it? I remember hearing that somewhere,”

Pete chuckled, powering on the machine and taking the gel from its holster. “Most of the time, yes. If you want me to look around for it, I can do that. After I make sure everything’s okay.”

“I really wanna know,” you said, wincing at the cold gel making contact with your skin. “It’d mean a lot. Then I can go full nesting mode. And so can Aaron and Eric, really.”

The ultrasound went off without a hitch. According to Pete, your margins were clear, and everything looked healthy with the baby. It was always a relief to hear. There was little room for error with these things now that you had scarcely little supplies to work with. Finding the ultrasound machine early on in the apocalypse was a miracle in itself.

“Okay…” Pete hummed, the wand moving and pressing over your skin. “The kid’s giving me a hard time with this one. And…” he pressed a few buttons, eyes focused on the screen before him. You watched his features intensely, as though his expression would give the answer away before he could say it. Pete’s eyes broke from the screen as he smiled, lifting the wand. “You’re having a little girl. Congratulations.”

Your heart swelled, a wide smile overtaking your features as Pete handed you a towel. “A girl,” you whispered, eyes locked onto your belly.

Before you were able to stop yourself, you were once more reminded of the likelihood that you’d never be able to share this with Daryl. Tears welled along your waterline as you sat up, swiping the scratchy cloth across your belly. Whether Pete noticed or not, he made no indications. You were thankful for it, and for him leaving the room to put the ultrasound equipment away.

When he came back inside, he pulled Denise from her books and into the kitchen to talk, but you paid no mind to them. They were talking too low for you to listen in, anyway, and you were too busy trying to quell your emotions on the makeshift examination table to want to eavesdrop.

By the time you were ready to leave, Olivia entered the infirmary, eyes scanning the room before landing on your frame.

“Y/n, they’re on their way back,” she smiled, and you nodded gratefully.

“They’re okay?”

The woman nodded. “Eric’s a bit banged up, hurt his leg I think, but otherwise they’re fine. And they brought a group. They should be getting here soon.”

Exhaling a relieved breath, you slid from the bed, bidding goodbye to Denise and Pete as you followed Olivia onto the street. You walked side by side in silence, mulling over what she’d said.

“You said they brought a group?” You asked, following Olivia up the steps to the house that held all of your inventory. “How many?”

Olivia huffed, brows cinching. “Deanna said it was a big one. That they had a lot of weapons, been on the road a while.”

Your eyes widened. “A while as in the entire time, or?”

“Not sure,” Olivia shook her head. “All I know is I gotta get the weapons cart to the gate, if you wanna help?”

“Sure. Should probably be there to get Eric to the infirmary, anyway,” you decided.

And, sure enough, Aaron helping a limping, sweating Eric through the gate was the first — and for now, only — glimpses of the new group you would get. Aaron smiled apologetically as he spotted you, tucked out of view from the newcomers.

“What the hell happened to you?” You said, looking pointedly at Eric, who grimaced as you took his arm from Aaron.

“Roamers,” he sighed. “It’s broken, I think.”

“You think?” You asked, eyeing the bruising flesh. “I can tell it’s broken. Come on, let’s get you to Pete.”

Aaron thanked you as you wrapped an arm around Eric’s waist, helping him up the road and back into the infirmary.

As Pete worked to wrap Eric’s ankle, you couldn’t help but ask questions about the trip.

“It was a disaster,” Eric groaned. “There were roamers everywhere. Plus, this group, they’re headstrong. Been out there a while.”

“How many of them are there?” You asked. “Olivia didn’t tell me.”

“Fifteen,” Eric hissed, squirming as Pete positioned his ankle properly.

Your eyes widened, throat going dry. “Jesus,” you huffed. “That many of them and they’re still going?”

“With a baby,”

“Oh my God,” you gasped. Your mind flashed with images of baby Judith, heart clenching. The fall of the prison meant that you never found out exactly who made it out alive, and you never dared to venture the thought of whether or not she did. “They must be some lucky sons of bitches.”

Eric laughed. “Not only are they lucky, but they’re tough. And really close. I think, once you get used to them, you’ll like them. They remind me of you when we found you.”

“So, scrappy, hungry, and tired?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Eric laughed, and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“If you need me, I’m four houses down.” Aaron pointed, Rick and Carl following his line of sight. “If I’m not there, Eric or Y/n probably will be.”

Carl’s eyes snapped back to the brunet, a mixture of confusion and skepticism floating within them. “Y/n?”

Aaron’s brows furrowed at the boy. “Yeah. She’s a friend of ours, came here a few months back. Why?”

“We, uh…” Rick stepped in, a hand scratching at his beard. “We used to know someone named Y/n. that’s all.”

“Oh,” Aaron nodded, stepping away and heading back home, where you and Eric were sitting at the table, sandwiches in hand as you giggled about something he wasn’t aware of.

Upon his entrance into the kitchen, you stood excitedly and hugged the man. “Glad you’re back okay,” you said, heading back to your chair. “I heard the group you brought was tough.”

“Yeah, they are.” Aaron chuckled, still mulling over the puzzle pieces in his head. “You said you were with a big group before, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Aaron huffed, glancing at his shoes. “I brought up your name to one of the new members — just a name, nothing else — he said they used to know someone with the same name.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest, limbs freezing as you were bringing the sandwich to your mouth. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to put the food back down, looking up at Aaron with shining eyes. “This man, what’d you say his name was?”

“Rick. Rick Grimes.”

If your heart had been fluttering before, it was banging like a drum in your chest now. Your stomach fluttered, your hand coming to rest on the swell of your belly, hoping to quell the anxiousness.

“Where are they?” You asked, and Aaron’s mouth only remained agape. “Aaron, where are they?”

“Down the street,” he finally said, voice cracking. “The house on the curb, the one you said you liked.”

Within moments, your food and friends were abandoned as you practically ran from the home, shooting down the porch steps and down the street. You were thankful that no one was out and about right now, or you were sure they’d think you looked crazy. You didn’t even register a person in your path until you’d already bumped into them.

“Oh! Y/n, are you alright?” Jessie asked, her hands on your shoulders as her eyes searched your wild ones.

“‘M fine, Jessie.” You muttered. “I’ve gotta go.”

You gave the woman no time to respond before you were wriggling out of her grip and hurrying down the street. Up more steps, you were greeted by the charming yellow door of the home you’d wished you lived in, knuckles rapping frantically and unyielding on the wood.

The door finally, after what felt like decades, creaked open. Your heart stopped in your chest as you took in the sight of your husband’s best friend, clean shaven and hair dripping from a recent shower.

Rick’s eyes flooded with tears as they met your own. In seconds, you were pulling him into your arms, grateful that you weren’t the only survivor of the Governor’s wrath.

You sobbed into his shoulder, gripping tightly to the clean white shirt he wore. “Rick,” you croaked, “is he—”

“He’s fine,” Rick whispered, heart breaking when your sobs worsened out of pure relief. “He’s just fine.”

When you finally found the strength to let go, Rick led you inside. “We thought you were dead,”

“There were times I wished I was,” you said, taking a seat at the edge of the couch. “I was by myself for just over a month. Found some train tracks, lost ‘em, then stuck to interstates, mostly. Got lost in the woods, found a small town, and from there, Aaron and Eric found me. I’ve been here for two months.”

Rick huffed a laugh, disbelief filling the sound. “Sounds like you had one hell of a trek.”

“I had a car, for a bit.” You shrugged. “Walkers ruined that part. I crashed it into a tree. Stuck to walking after that.”

“When did you…” Rick glanced down at your swelling belly, forcing a laugh from you.

Shrugging, you smoothed your hand over your belly. “Four-ish months ago. Didn’t find out until I got here. Been terrified ever since, really. Not knowing if Daryl was out there, if I’d see him again.”

“You’ll see him soon,” Rick assured you. “He’s talking to Deanna now.”

“And the others?” You asked. “Beth? Judith?”

“Judith is just fine,” Rick said, eyes leaving yours as he sighed. “Beth got caught out in Atlanta. A woman in a hospital killed her.”

Your stomach churned at Rick’s words, guilt crushing your lungs and bile rising in your throat. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your mouth to try and stop yourself from throwing up.

Rick nodded, resting a hand on your knee. He watched you stand, your arm resting over your belly, beginning to pace the floor before him.

“I have to… I need to go see the others. Daryl.” And without another word, you were leaving Rick behind in an unfamiliar home, nearly running down the familiar path to where Deanna and her husband lived.

The group milled about in the small courtyard in front of Deanna’s house, hidden behind the brick walls that fenced it in. Everyone was either sitting or leaning against something, sticking to a tight group, and completely blocking your path to the inside of the home.

With your mind so set on seeing Daryl, on simply getting close to him again, you failed to register Carol saying your name. Once again, you were pulled from your thoughts only when someone was right in front of you.

This time, Carol was pulling you into her arms, her grip on your body tight. You hugged her back, despite the sweat and grime that covered her. Soon enough, Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, and Sasha had joined her. You were surrounded by your family, all overwhelmed at your presence, but happy nonetheless.

When you finally requested to be let go, they obliged, and you finally spotted Judith in the arms of someone you didn’t know. Relief flooded you, seeing the baby healthy and happy as she could be.

“What happened to you?”

“We thought you were dead!”

“Are you okay?”

“Guys, I’m fine, I promise.” You chuckled through tears. “I’ve been here almost the whole time, and I’m perfectly healthy. The doctor said so this morning.”

You smiled as Carol’s eyes drifted from your face to your belly, shock overcoming her features, before her smile matched yours. She said nothing, but you were sure everyone else was either figuring it out or partially aware, just based on the interaction alone.

A loud scoff echoed from the porch door, followed by low, gravelly muttering. Your heart stopped at the familiar voice, before thrumming in your heart like a rapid drumbeat. There, walking with careless ease, picking at his thumbs, was your husband, covered head to toe in layers of dirt and grime. You choked a sob as the group seemed to part around you.

“Daryl,” you croaked, just loud enough for him to hear it.

Daryl paused at the top of the steps, his eyes locked onto yours through the hair he’d let grow too long. In a flash, he was down the stairs entirely, rushing to pull you into his arms. You met him in the middle, colliding with his body and bringing you both to the ground. With one hand cupping the back of your head and the other splayed between your shoulder blades, Daryl cradled you close to him, rocking you as you clutched to the leather vest on his back tighter, sobbing in his embrace.

“I thought ya were dead,” he whispered, fingers digging into your back. “I thought I lost ya,”

A choked sound escaped you as you shook your head. “Never,” you promised. “You could never lose me.”

“Yer necklace,” Daryl croaked, tucking his face into the side of your head. “I found it, on the tracks in Georgia. Thought ya were gone…”

“It fell.” You said, words hushed and shaking, as though they were a desperate plea. “Walkers were coming for me, too many for me to take on myself. It snapped off in the fight, I couldn’t go back for it.”

By the time you felt okay enough to stand on your own, everyone had departed from the courtyard, likely into Deanna’s home. With a vice grip on his arms, Daryl helped you stand. His eyes raked over your face, tear-stricken and flushed with emotion. No matter the state you were in, Daryl could never see you as anything other than utterly beautiful.

“You’re okay?” You asked, hands gently brushing the hair from his dirt-caked face. “You’re not hurt?”

Daryl shook his head, leaning into your delicate touch. Hands smoothed over cloth, over skin, dedicating the feeling of your body beneath his touch to memory. He watched your eyes flutter closed as he did so, relishing in the slight pressure of his palms against your skin. They slid down your hips, your waist, and Daryl’s brow furrowed. He’d committed your body to memory long ago — every curve, every bump, every scar. Slowly, and with a hand that was less steady than it had been a moment ago, Daryl’s fingers drifted delicately over your front, eliciting a small gasp when he found what he’d suspected.

The sound forced your eyes to open, meeting the bright blue of his own, widened in shock. Immediately, your stomach churned and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, a habit you’d been unable to shake since high school.

“Daryl?” Your voice shook.

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes darting down to where the backs of his fingers rested, the slight swell of your stomach confirming what he’d been about to ask. “When’d you… did you know?”

“No, no…” you whispered gently, shaking your head. “I had no clue when… I didn’t know until I got here. I suspected it on the road, but… no, I didn’t.”

A shaking breath fell from his lips. “And yer okay? Yer both— both okay?”

“We’re just fine,” you smiled, resting your palm on his cheek. “I promise. Your girls are just fine.”

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, a new wave of pure emotion rolling through his body. It seized his muscles, freezing him in place as he struggled for breath and blinked away tears. Girls. He was going to be a dad. He was going to have a daughter.

“Ya have no idea how much I love ya,” Daryl muttered, his head dipping low, forehead resting on your shoulder.

“I think I have a clue or two,” you joked, voice as soft as you could make it.

Daryl scoffed, lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It was short, shorter than you would’ve liked, but it carried as much love as all the other kisses you’d shared and stolen with the archer over the years. Still, he was here, and he was safe, and so were you. Nothing else mattered except that.

The horrifying reality you’d thought yourself to be in was nothing but that — a mere thought. For now, you and Daryl were safe. Together. As a family.

And you knew that, as he slipped the necklace back onto your skin, this time on a leather rope tied tight, there was nothing either of you wouldn’t do to stay that way.

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

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taglist form here!

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x pregnant!reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon angst #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader

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tmpestuous · 1 month ago

Text

someone to stay

summary: bucky offers you solace as your mental fatigue rears its head.

pairing: boyfriend!bucky x reader

warnings: angst, reader anxiety/depression, fluff, non-sexual nudity, a comforting buck <3

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this was inspired by my own issues right now because i definitely need it at the moment :’)

Getting out of bed was always the most difficult part of your day. Even when you were feeling okay, even when nothing was immediately wrong. You would wake up and stare into the void, blankets smothering your body and eyelids still heavy from the bit of sleep you’d managed to get.

There wasn’t anything pressing your anxiety, but having been out of your routine for a few weeks always left you feeling unmotivated. After having been sidelined from missions for a multitude of reasons—injuries, mental stability, and a dwindling success rate—you had nothing to do. None of your side hobbies entertained you long enough to keep you busy, so you fell into the same cycle. You sometimes wished you could sleep all day or even just stay stagnant in bed, but you knew it’d only make the fatigue worse.

Today, however, was not one of those days where you pushed yourself out of bed. Not bothered to check the time, you closed your eyes again. It was raining outside anyways, the perfect weather to stay cuddled in bed for. Soon enough, you found some sleep again, even if you’d regret it later.

Bucky, who was not sidelined from missions, had just come back from one, more than eager to see you. He was back earlier than expected, so he only figured you wouldn’t be in your usual spot waiting for him in the hangar of the compound. It was a bit past noon, so he assumed you were keeping busy elsewhere.

After a quick debrief, he made it to your shared room, only to be led to confusion at the curtains still drawn and all of the lights off. He knew how much you hated sleeping in too late, only ever sleeping past 9 if you were really exhausted and/or hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. Even then, you never let it get past 11 before you were up and out of bed.

Bucky knew you were taking your suspension a bit rougher than expected. He hated seeing you upset and he was even willing to skip out on a few missions to stay with you, but you’d insisted otherwise, saying “the bad guys don’t take breaks.”

He never liked leaving you. Most of your missions had the two of you together, SHIELD thinking you worked well together even outside of your relationship. Going on missions without you meant he was always stuck with some reckless, inexperienced agent who wasn’t half as skilled as you a lot of the time. It was why he only liked the ones where he was with Sam or Steve, at least not having to stress about saving anyone.

He missed you on every single one. Your quips, how satisfying it was to see you kick people’s asses, and how swiftly you did just about everything. But Bucky also knew you needed a break. Your anxiety was more rampant lately, and it was affecting all of your skills on the field. The decision to bench you didn’t come easy to anyone, but especially not you.

You honestly had little to no idea what had you so anxious to start with, but anything else that triggered your anxiety only amplified it. Bucky was so reluctant to let Steve suspend you, but after you got seriously injured on a mission for lack of attention, he couldn’t argue against it anymore.

“You can’t be serious,” you said to Steve, tears in your eyes. “I’ve been injured so many times, why does that even matter?”

“It’s not just the injury,” Steve countered. “You’ve been off your game. I can’t risk losing one of our best members because you’re distracted.”

“I’m not dis—”

“You being distracted is how you ended up with a broken arm and a head injury,” he cut you off, making you look away from him. “You’re gonna end up dead if you keep on like this. I can’t deal with that loss, and neither can Bucky.”

Snapping your gaze back at Steve, you scoffed.

“So this is about Bucky?”

“This is about you, Y/n,” Steve said, his tone slightly more irritated. “He begged me not to bench you, said you just needed some time but even he knows putting you on the field again is risking your life.”

Wiping your tears away, you said nothing in response. You knew he was right, but the last thing you needed was to give in. It’d make you crumble, it’d make this whole situation real and you knew where you’d end up.

Your conversation ended when Bucky walked in the room.

It was the right decision after all. However, Bucky’s chest ached knowing how low you were feeling. Knowing that you were doing everything just to get by, yet nothing at all. He hadn’t seen you in a melancholy state for years, but it always scared him. He barely made it out of his own episodes sometimes, panic manifesting through his bones. His worry only worsened at the thought of not being able to pull you from the darkness, the way you’d done so for him many times.

Seeing you under the sheets, sound asleep past noon didn’t settle Bucky’s own anxiety. He was out on this mission for eight days, but you’d sounded okay when you spoke to him over the phone every night.

Were you not getting any sleep? Were you falling asleep really late? Or was your current funk really getting to you?

Bucky set his duffel bag on the floor, shutting the door behind him. He decided against opening the curtains until you were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your sleeping body, placing his flesh hand on your cheek gently.

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning down and kissing your forehead a few times. “Let me see those pretty eyes, doll.”

Furrowing your eyebrows before peeling your eyes open, you were greeted with your favorite super soldier, a smile creeping on your face.

“Hi,” you said groggily, Bucky kissing your forehead again. “You’re back early.”

“Got the job done quickly,” he fed your curiosity. “What are you still doing asleep, doll? Are you okay?”

“What time is it?” You said, still unmotivated to get up from your lying position.

“Almost 1,” Bucky answered before your eyes widened and you sat up, frantic about how the morning got away from you. “Hey, hey,” Bucky placed his hands on your shoulder, easing the tension a bit. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with oversleeping once in a while.”

You shook your head, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as you rubbed your eyes. “I shouldn’t have slept that long.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then your cheek, then pulled your hands away from your eyes. The bags under them didn’t go without notice, Bucky getting more worried than earlier. He knew you weren’t sleeping well, and him not being here to soothe you must have made it worse.

“Is everything okay?” He asked again, never getting an answer from you.

You sighed. “I don’t really know, I’m just- I’m always tired and don’t wanna do anything even though I know I shouldn’t just stay in bed. I was gonna wake up early today to see if I could get moving but then I barely slept and thought a few more hours could be useful but now—”

“Shh,” Bucky said, pulling you into his embrace, rubbing your back softly. “There is still a lot of time left in the day, but I don’t mind sleeping this Sunday away with you after the mission I just had.” He kissed the top of your head a few times. “We can shower then eat and then rest. Sounds good?”

You nodded, with a muffled ‘okay’ into his chest before pulling away, Bucky standing and grasping your hand in his to head to the bathroom.

Bucky turned the shower on, letting it run to get warm before turning back to you. After you helped Bucky take his tac suit off, he helped you shed your pajamas. The both of you took your underwear off, Bucky checking the water before you stepped in.

You always enjoyed showering with Bucky, most after a mission when you were both tired. Though this was different since you weren’t the one coming home, the sentiment of being tired remained the same.

Bucky could tell you were tense, that something was still bothering you. He never wanted to pry, so he massaged the tension out of your shoulders, getting you to relax your posture a bit. You both worked your way around lathering each other with soap, your eyes doing their usual routine of scanning Bucky’s body for any cuts and bruises. Bucky decided to wash your hair, finding any means of making you feel relaxed. You sighed under his touch, leaning your head forward to rest against his chest as he rinsed your hair.

“Steve mentioned you going back on the field again,” Bucky eased into the conversation. “You feeling up for it?” Much to Bucky’s surprise, you shook your head, prompting him to lift your face in his hands. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You know you can talk to me.”

Sighing again, you leaned into his touch. “I’m not ready.”

“I thought you wanted to get back,” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows.

“I do,” you nodded. “But I just feel so… out of it. Like my mind is out of fuel and it’s putting my body on pause. I have no energy lately, I don’t really know what’s wrong with me.”

Bucky looked at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. He’d been there, where his body was craving one thing but his mind just never allowed him to satisfy any of his desires. Depression didn’t always look the same, but he could tell when it was starting to consume you.

The restless nights, the fatigue, the lack of energy and motivation. It was a stark contrast to your usual, productive self. Sometimes Bucky would have to slow you down for doing too many things at once, so it pained him to see you not want to do anything at all.

He decided right then and there he’d take a pause from any missions until you were okay. Until he could see the spark in your eye again, the pep in your step. The energy being revitalized.

“It happens, baby,” he reassured. “You’ve helped me through some of my funks, so let me help you out of yours, hm?”

“You don’t have to, Bucky,” you shook your head, but he shushed you, a chaste kiss placed on your lips. “I’m serious, you don’t have to pause your life for me. People still need help and I’ll get out of my fatigue stint eventually, so—”

“You know you’re not gonna convince me otherwise, right?” He shut you up again, offering you a smirk and another peck to the lips. “I would drop everything for you. At any time, on any day, at any given moment. You are my world, doll. If you’re not okay, then my world isn’t okay.”

“But what if they really need you—”

“They won’t,” Bucky grabbed the comb to detangle your hair. “Now come on, let me help you ease your mind, hm?”

Knowing you couldn’t say no to him, you turned so your back was facing him, Bucky smoothly getting any knots out of your hair.

He knew how much you loved it when he did your hair, knowing the process was super long and you didn’t want to do it half of the time. When he first heard you complain about having to do it, he made you teach him your whole routine for whenever you were feeling unmotivated to. It was one of many things he eagerly learned for you, always wanting to pamper you.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed over the fact that you had him back, here with you as he did everything in his power to clear your head from the anxious thoughts, you couldn’t help but tear up.

When he finished detangling your hair, holding it up with a clip, he saw you crying, quickly pulling you in his arms, kissing you everywhere he could.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Once he let you return the favor of washing his hair, you made him sit on the built-in bench in the shower so you wouldn’t have to reach up the whole time.

Bucky loved touching you, but he swore to everything that he loved your touch even more. Your hands were so soft and gentle, with each lather and rinse of his head.

“Your hair’s getting long again,” you said, running your fingers through Bucky’s brown locks, the length now passing his ear. “Are you gonna cut it?”

Bucky shrugged, his hands finding comfort in your waist as you stood in front of him. He placed a kiss on each of your hips then your stomach before looking up at you.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he answered before standing, kissing your lips again. He knew how much you liked his short hair when he first cut it, but deep down you loved his long hair too. You just never forced him to keep one or the other, knowing how many memories his hair held.

Bucky loved how well you knew him, how well you understood him. It was the main reason why he took his time to do the same for you.

Once you were both out of the shower and dressed, Bucky picked up his phone to order some food. You’d told him you were craving Chinese the night before on your phone call while he was away, so he ordered all of your favorites as you finished drying your hair in the bathroom.

After eating dinner, Bucky slid under the covers of your shared bed, extending his metal arm for you to grab as you slid in next to him. Your head found its usual spot on his chest, both of his arms encasing you in the pressure you sought so many times, your left leg over his right one.

“Thank you,” you said softly as Bucky rubbed your back just the way you liked it. “For never judging me.”

“I would never plan to,” he said, using his right hand to lift your chin up. “We’re human. We have our moments where we need a break, a reset. You taught me that when I needed to hear it. Don’t think that it excludes you, my love.”

Leaning up, you pressed your lips against his in a soft kiss that said more than enough.

Pulling away, you looked into those blue eyes that meant the world to you.

“What would I do without you?”

“Force yourself to do your hair routine every week,” Bucky joked, making you roll your eyes playfully with a smirk.

You pressed a kiss on his chest before laying your head on it again. “I love you.”

“I love you more, doll,” he said, massaging your scalp to soothe you until you fell asleep.

Bucky could watch you be this peaceful forever, vowing to spend the rest of his days making sure you were okay. He always knew you’d return the favor, enjoying every moment spent with you like this, comforted best in his arms.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff

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ceilidho · 16 days ago

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 19)

masterlist

A blood-orange sun hangs low in the sky.

You might think it ominous on any other day, but not this one. What more adversity could stand in your way?

Instead of sharing a saddle with John, you ride the same horse that Graves rode out of town. Days spent on horseback have finally caught up to you, pain radiating up and down your legs, a soreness embedded deep in your inner thighs, the skin positively chafed from the constant friction. At least you no longer have the handcuffs digging painfully into your wrists, the metal cuffs long since unlocked using the key in Graves’ pocket and discarded, now lost some acres back for the coyotes and the hares to prod at and sniff.

You drift in and out of conscious awareness, coming back into your right mind every mile or so, losing track of time along the way. Sometimes you blink and trees disappear out of sight, already ten miles back. Scouring the landscape for something familiar only to come up empty.

Recent events lour over your conscience. It’s difficult not to let it get to you. So much has happened in such quick succession that part of you still thinks you’re dreaming in the abandoned shack with Graves sleeping just a few feet away.

A distinct sound scrapes against the inner recesses of your mind and eardrum. If you were to look behind you, you’d find the source of it wrapped in a shroud and dragged behind John’s horse. Drying blood stains the fabric. The head, obscured under the fabric, jostles from side to side as it passes over rocks and undergrowth.

It’s beyond you now though, the future shuttling forward at an unfathomable speed and taking you with it, willing or not. The world hurrying on to repeat its past mistakes.

So you don’t look behind you.

“Won’t be much longer,” your husband murmurs from beside you, speaking just loud enough for you to hear him over the influx of thoughts in your head, which rapidly empty out at the sound of his voice.

“We can stop for a break after?” you ask, turning your head enough for your eyes to land on the hard, bristled line of his jaw. He nods.

“Just gotta get this part out of the way.”

He says it so casually, like a bit of unpleasantness that has to be dealt with; no way around it. Unfortunately, a body isn’t something that can be just swept under the rug. No matter how much your muscles beg for a moment’s reprieve, you won’t get it until all the loose ends are tied up.

“How do you know the land around here so well?” you ask as John leads the two of you deeper into the plains.

“The boys and I have been out here before. Grew up in this county anyway; been wanderin’ these parts since I was born.”

You can’t imagine John as a young boy, uncertain of his place in the world. He seems like someone who emerged from the womb ready-made, already able to skin a deer and build a bushcraft shelter by hand. But he must have been young at one point.

Finally, he comes upon a suitable place to bury the body.

Deep in the wilderness, he digs a shallow grave with the short shovel strapped to his horse, sweating up a storm before the hole is big enough to bury the body. You dismount your horse and wander off while John handles the burial.

This is the part where you have to turn away and pretend it isn’t happening. You stave off the urge to plug your ears and close your eyes. Dogear any page in your life except this one. This is the only memory that you want to fade into obscurity, pretend that it never happened, that this was some bad dream that you only half-remember twenty years from now.

You glance back only once to find John breathing heavily at the edge of the hole, having just hauled himself out. Sweat slicks his brow and drips down the side of his face near his temple, a dark flush spreading over his cheeks from exertion. Even his shirt is damp with sweat under the pits and around the collar.

You force yourself to look away. Now is not the time for your libido to trouble you.

Graves’ body lands with a dull thump when John rolls it into the makeshift grave. You bite your lip and let your eyelids slide shut. Then he starts the process of covering the body, shoveling the dirt back into the hole. It takes a while. An offer to help hovers on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite make yourself say the words.

A half hour later, it no longer matters, the hole covered until the only thing demarcating the grave is the layer of upturned soil, slightly darker than the dirt in the surrounding area.

“That’s it,” John announces, making his way back to you with the shovel slung over his shoulder. You can smell the ripe scent of sweat wafting off him even from a foot away. “Let’s head out; we’ll wanna make camp before it gets dark.”

You don’t answer. Not verbally anyway. The guilt almost makes it hard to breathe. In all your stupidity and poor decision-making, you’ve inadvertently made John an accomplice in your crimes; forced him, in fact, to commit one as heinous as the one that had started this whole debacle.

You travel the next mile in relative silence, scouring the landscape for a neat patch of land to set up camp. The sun plummets towards the ground at a faster and faster pace until it’s tugged below the horizon, vanishing with a green flash. Then it’s too dangerous to keep going, the way back far too dark to keep traveling down.

John builds a small fire after tying up the horses for the night. The temperature drops exponentially as the sky darkens, the cold sinking low to the ground. You help with gathering the kindling, mostly twigs and clumps of dry grass, then take the packs off both horses to use as makeshift seats by the fire, unrolling the sleeping bags as well.

It comes as a relief to finally sit down after the fire is struck. Rest is a double edged sword though; the longer you sit with Graves’ old pack propping you up, the more the pain has time to sink its claws in deep.

In the hours since he shot Graves, neither of you have spoken more than a few words to each other. You certainly haven’t brought it up. The memory of Graves revealing the truth of what you’d done back east to John looms over you. It’s inevitable that you’ll talk about it eventually though. It’s heavy in the atmosphere, almost oppressive; the weight of everything said and unsaid. You can’t take back what Graves revealed to John. At some point you’ll have to face it.

At what point will you have to beg for forgiveness? It sits on the tip of your tongue.

The small fire crackles in front of you. Red tongues of flames lick at the darkness, the light extending out in a circle around the two of you. You’re grateful for the warmth though, particularly after spending the previous night in the cold.

“Nothing to eat, m’afraid,” he says apologetically, brow creasing. “I didn’t exactly pack before coming after you.”

You shake your head. “That’s fine. I’m not hungry anyway.”

In a few more hours, you might work up an appetite again, but for now, you couldn’t be further from it. All you want to do is lie down on your bed back home and sleep through to the next day.

“Yeah,” John sighs. “Me neither.”

He picks up your hand and holds it in his for a time. It’s strange how such a small gesture has become such an immense comfort for you. You wish you could thread your fingers through his and bring his hand up to your lips to kiss all over, but you’re too tired for a gesture of that magnitude.

When he lets go of your hand, it’s only to transfer it to your face. His thumb runs over your split lip, pulling away when you wince. “Looks like it’s healing on its own.”

“That’s good,” you mumble. “…It hurt a lot more yesterday.”

John’s nostrils flare. The fire reflects off his eyes in such a way that, for a moment, it almost looks like it’s coming from within him. “I’d kill him again if I could.”

Your stomach clenches at the ferocity behind his words.

“You—you shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” you croak. “Not when he was—” right, you don’t say. Right to haul you out of town by your hair and drag you back to the scene of the crime, back to pay for what you’d done.

“Now I ain’t gonna hear you go spoutin’ that horseshit,” he growls, clasping you by the back of your neck and tugging you to his side. It’s so sudden that your butt skids across the ground, raking up a small mound of dirt with the weight of your body.

You look away, unable to meet his eyes even as he pulls you forward until you’re nearly nose to nose. “It’s not—”

“Yes, it is, darlin’. That shit weren’t none of your fault. You ain’t done a thing wrong by keeping yourself safe.”

It’s almost hard to hear. It’s taken you months to scrub the dirt from your soul, which until recently was raw to the touch and pained you to even think back on. And the hopelessness. And the longing, the irreversibility of it; irreversible in the way that you couldn’t turn your pain inside out. You could never go back to the way things were because the only way out was to keep on trudging forward.

Like rain in a drought, you’ve been missing someone’s mercy. You’ve been waiting for someone to come and forgive you for your sins; someone to absolve you of them.

You lean forward, burying your face in his neck. Not making much of a sound except for a harsh exhale, your throat quavering with something unsaid.

Then you grip him by the back of his shirt and pull him to the ground with you.

Out in the open like this, John doesn’t dare remove your clothes, but he does reach beneath your dress to pull off your underclothes. He’s silent through it all, eyes fixed on yours. Never wavering or dropping your gaze. It’s intoxicating to be stared at with such a fierce intensity. Vaguely overwhelming, the sensation creeping up your chest and lodging in your throat.

The light of the fire he built for the two of you flickers across his skin, illuminating his face in shades of orange and gold.

He holds your gaze when he rucks the skirt of your dress up and crawls down the length of your body until his mouth is level with your center, slick already dripping from your sex. Your breathing goes haggard, anticipating his mouth before it’s suddenly there between your thighs, planting a gentle kiss on your inner thigh before dragging his lips over your sensitive skin until they brush your clit. Your mouth opens to a soundless gasp. Electrical impulses travel up your spine, your arching back following their trajectory.

He pulls back to stare at your dripping hole. “Missed me, my love?”

You’d answer if you could form words, but then you realize who he’s talking to and your mind goes blank.

When he runs his tongue up the seam of your pussy, you jolt, legs slung over his shoulders kicking at the air. He eats you out with gusto, with reverence, sighing into your pussy that it’s been too long, that he’d worried himself nearly half to death over you.

Rough hands hold you by your waist and pull you down onto his face. Long, crude licks of his tongue, rubbing the flat of it over your clit until you’re a roiling, twisting hotbed of pent up arousal.

The urge to suppress your noises is almost overwhelming. When you twist your head from side to side, there’s nothing but miles of land; trees and shrubbery and a deep, impenetrable darkness. Not another person around for miles. It makes you shiver when you stare out into it.

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—” you gasp, chest getting tighter and tighter until you expect it to burst but it doesn’t. It stays all pent up, all itchy and scratchy and you can feel the sweat slicking the small of your back and the blood furiously rushing to your cheeks, heating you up from the inside out. Sweat-laden and flustered.

Your toes curl in your boots, throat tightening up the closer it gets. All it takes to push you over the edge is John cupping his hands under your butt to tilt your hips up, licking you from hole to hole. The impertinence and thrill sends a rush through your body, the coil in your belly twisting and releasing, core pulsing around nothing. Your body gives a violent jolt when he gives your clit one last wet, suckling kiss.

“Are you comfortable like this, darlin’, or should I wait until we’re home?” John asks when he positions himself over you again, beard still wet with your desire and a big hand cupping the front of his trousers. You stare down at the hair dusting his knuckles and the bulge straining against his pants.

The shadows make it seem even larger than usual. Your throat goes dry the longer you stare down at where he fists his length through his trousers.

“Darlin’?” he repeats, drawing your attention back up to his face.

“Oh?” you ask, cheeks heating. “I’m, um…I’m quite comfortable.”

It seems absurd to have such a conversation when your husband’s hand is reaching into his trousers to pull out his cock and fuck you with it, but the nervous tickle in your belly is far from unpleasant.

He’s so careful with you, cognizant that your muscles are already sore and aching from days of being on the road and the abuse Graves put you through. Gentle hands maneuver your legs around his hips and move your hair from your face. Again your belly flips.

Your grunt is involuntary when he first pushes in, walls stretching around the head of his cock. It hasn’t been long enough for the blunt intrusion to be painful, but it’s overwhelming all the same. You wince and grimace through it all.

“Easy does it. You’re alright,” John shushes when you whimper, rough hand cupping your cheek. It sends a thrill down your spine, but doesn’t lessen the intensity.

He stays like that for a time, hovering over you and stroking a thumb over your cheekbone until you relax around his girth, gradually finding your breath again. In and out; one after the other. When he pulls his hand away, it’s to plant his forearms on the ground beside your head and grind his hips forward, taking your breath away.

“Oh Lord,” you wheeze, then brace your hands around his neck.

“You’re doing great, darlin’. Just hold on; I’ve got ya.”

It’s nothing like the times before; your arms link around his neck and your breath goes shallow, hitching with every measured thrust. It’s too much and not enough. You feel windswept and battered, bruises smarting now that you’ve had time to feel them, but still you need more from him.

He works himself into the wet flex of your pussy with slow, heavy thrusts. Taking his time. Not rushing it just yet because though the threat of you being taken from him still looms over his head, he’s sated his bloodlust. His reassurance now comes in the form of your legs spread to receive him and the fat head of his cock fitting snugly in you.

The heels of your boots press firm against the flesh above his buttocks. Taking him this way with your clothes still on feels debaucherous, filthier than usual; like you were so desperate to have your husband inside you, that you couldn’t even be bothered to remove your garments.

He must feel the way that thought heats you up because he rasps, “Need a lil somethin’, love?”

Before you can even answer, he’s reached a hand down and tucked it between your thighs to strum the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex.

“John—”

Your fingernails must dig into the back of his neck because he grunts. Serves him right, you think, digging your nails in all the harder when grinds a knuckle against your clit and you briefly see stars.

You’re splintering down to the root, coming apart in his hands like clay; when he says your name, the darkness fades and for a moment, you’re in the light, a shaft of it haloing your face. Chasing it no matter how fast it runs. A hare in a snare, a shadow captured in the palm of your hand.

It comes fluttering down from somewhere beyond sight. Gasped out in another voice, a truer voice. From the depths of you, true as stone and air.

“I love you.”

Give it time and it’ll come naturally. Now, it comes as a gut punch. Even John stills over you when he hears the words, and you can feel the shudder that runs through him under your fingertips. There’s no time to sit and talk about it though, not with the frenzy that comes over him, blue eyes glazed over by a manic glint.

He braces one hand on the top of your head and surges forward, so rough with you that your teeth clack together, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Say it again,” John growls, leaning down until his mouth is right next to your ear.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—”

Then it hits you. A wall of heat. Your belly rolling and cheeks burning, walls squeezing around John’s cock, tighter with every thrust. You yelp when he lifts himself off you to yank the skirt of your dress up higher and presses his hands to your inner thighs, spreading your legs wider for him. Bullies his cock into your channel even as you try to squeeze him out, pounding into you until the lurid torrent of words spilling out of his mouth go slurred and his release floods into you, his hips slapping against yours until he’s emptied the last of his spend into your womb.

It’s a while before either of you can move after that. Your energy melts into the ground like rainwater, purifying the earth. Maybe life is already germinating beneath you, grass seedlings about to burst from the dirt, flower buds curled up in tight coils until they’re ready to bloom.

Your hands shake when you lift one up to wipe the sweat from your face.

When he finally pulls out of you, the feeling of his come leaking down your inner thighs makes you fussy. You lift your thighs just enough to let him pull your drawers back up before lying back down, no energy left in you to do more than that. You only scrunch your nose a little at the feeling of your combined juices already wetting the gusset.

Time seems to come apart and then piece back together. You roll over onto your side and nestle up against John’s chest, staring up at him wordlessly. His eyes stay shut for some time until he feels your stare on him and they peel open, the color of his irises barely discernible in the flickering light.

“Somethin’ on your mind?” he asks in a tone so devoid of accusation or condemnation that you’re almost thrown by it. He says it like it’s just another day, like something horrible and monumental didn’t just happen.

It takes you a while to find the words. Even when you do, they come out jumbled and disjointed. “How long have you…—when did you find out?”

“‘Bout what happened back East?” he clarifies, blunt as usual.

The question makes you swallow impulsively, anxiety secreting from you again. “Yes.”

John looks up into the dark sky, quiet for a spell. “Not until recently. The arrest warrant drifted across my desk probably around the time Graves first stopped by. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together after that—you showing up in a tizzy around the same time as the warrant was issued. General description matched as well.”

You feel a bit foolish in retrospect, certain that you were getting away with it all this time.

“You know my name.”

“I do.”

“My real name.”

“In a manner of speaking. Got yourself a new last name since then though, didn’t you?”

Your lips pull up at the corners involuntarily. “Yes. I guess so.”

You can almost hear it now. The penultimate note of the overture writhing against convalescence like you might stay this way for a second longer. But it isn’t right to keep feeling the same old pain. At some point, it has to heal.

“Hey,” John says, giving your shoulder a little shake to draw your attention back to him. The look in his eyes is serious. “This is as far as the story goes, alright?”

You stare up at him silently until you nod against his chest.

“You’re my wife. End of story. The rest ain’t anyone’s business but ours.”

Off in the distance, an owl hoots, and its call hits your ear as a distant evocation to sleep. You press one last kiss to his chest before rolling off him, letting him put the fire out before the two of you turn in for the night, and then drawing a blanket over the both of you.

And then, you go to sleep.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #john price/reader #price/reader #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #captain price x reader

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marysfics · 16 days ago

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Whispers of Love

Alexia Putellas x Pregnant!Reader

Long Soft Smut

It had been a long day. The heat hung heavy in the room, making it difficult to breathe as you sat up in bed, staring at the now-darkened TV screen. You turned it off with a soft sigh, already feeling the weight of exhaustion setting in. It had been one of those sweltering days in Barcelona—hot enough to make you feel restless. The heat was one thing, but your little girl inside you was another. She had been particularly active today, kicking you with an almost playful intensity that made it hard to get comfortable.

You ran your hand over your swollen belly, sighing again as you adjusted your position on the bed. The third trimester had been harder than you expected, each day dragging a little longer than the last. But even when it felt like your body was reaching its limits, there was one constant that kept you going—Alexia. Your wife.

You missed her so much. It had been a busy day for her at the club, and although you’d woken up together, you barely had time to say more than a few words before she had to rush out. You smiled softly to yourself, remembering the way she kissed your forehead this morning, the promise in her eyes as she left. She had been your rock through this entire pregnancy, making sure you felt supported even when everything felt overwhelming.

As the heat made it even harder to focus, you shifted on the bed, lifting your arms to pull your t-shirt off. The fabric clung to your skin, the weight of it too much to bear in the sticky air. Once it was off, you settled back against the pillows, leaning against the headboard. The soft, cool feeling of your skin against the cool sheets was a small relief.

You couldn't help but chuckle softly to yourself as you looked down, realizing you were now dressed in just Alexia's boxers and your Calvin Klein bra—completely unbothered by the state of your appearance, but somehow feeling at ease in the quiet of the room. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to clear your mind, though the discomfort in your body and the fluttering kicks from your baby made it harder than usual to relax.

The house was peaceful, the only sounds the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of the sheets as you shifted on the bed. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to find the slightest trace of sleep, but the heat and your little one’s movements kept you from drifting off. It was a restless night, but at least it was quiet.

That was until you heard the faint jingle of keys from downstairs. The soft click of the door unlocking broke the silence, followed by the quiet thud of Alexia’s training bag hitting the floor. You smiled to yourself, feeling a warmth in your chest at the sound of her return, even though it had only been a few hours since you’d last seen her this morning.

You heard her footsteps now, light but purposeful, as she probably took off her shoes at the door before tiptoeing through the house. It was a familiar rhythm—the way she moved after a long day, still with that hint of quiet energy that you had come to love so much. You could imagine her smile, the one that she always wore when she came back home to you, even if she was exhausted.

It was late, already past 11 PM, and you knew she must have been thinking you were fast asleep by now. She didn’t want to disturb you, probably thinking you’d been resting all evening. You couldn't help but chuckle softly at the thought of her tiptoeing around, as though her mere presence might wake you.

Despite the quiet of the house, there was an undeniable pull to the sound of her entering. Even from upstairs, you could feel the weight of her presence—the quiet comfort of knowing she was finally home. And, as much as you longed for her touch, you stayed still, content to listen for now, waiting for her to reach you in her own time.

The soft creak of the stairs broke the stillness, signaling that Alexia was making her way upstairs. You could picture her, her movements slower now, the weight of her long day settling into her steps. As much as she always put in her best effort at the club, you knew she must’ve been exhausted, and still, she was careful, tiptoeing as though she didn’t want to wake you.

You closed your eyes, your heart warming at the thought of her trying to be quiet even though you were wide awake. It was a small thing, but it was just one of the many reasons you loved her so much. She was always looking out for you, even when she didn’t need to.

The sound of her footsteps got closer, and soon you could hear her at the top of the stairs. You lay still for a moment, letting her approach, and then you felt it—her presence, even before she entered the room. There was something calming about it, like the air was just different when she was near.

The door creaked open gently, and there she was, standing in the doorway. Alexia paused for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, a faint smile curling on her lips when she saw you still awake. "I'm sorry, Amor. I didn't mean to wake you."

You smiled, a little breathless at the sight of her, despite the day’s tiredness etched across her face. "I’ve been waiting for you," you replied quietly, your voice full of affection, as you reached up with one hand to pat the bed beside you.

Alexia’s smile widened, walking over to the bed and sliding in beside you, her warmth filling the space next to you. She leaned down and kissed your forehead, her lips lingering for a moment, soft and gentle.

Your wife's lips brushed gently against yours, soft and tender, lingering for just a moment longer than usual, as if she couldn’t help but savor the quiet intimacy of the moment. When she pulled back, her eyes softened, and without a word, she bent down to place a kiss on your swollen belly. Her lips were warm against your skin, and you could feel the love she poured into every touch.

She straightened up and reached for the soft bedside lamp, flicking it on with a gentle click. The dim light illuminated the room, casting a calming glow across the space. But as her gaze drifted back to you, her breath caught in her throat.

She had always thought you were beautiful, but now, seeing you like this, her heart fluttered with a new depth of love and desire. The way your body had changed, carrying your child—your daughter—it was as if you were glowing with life itself. The sight of you, pregnant and radiant, made her both fall deeper in love with you and feel a stirring warmth in places she hadn’t expected.

There was a slight pause, and she smiled, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of sincerity. "You look beautiful, mi amor," she murmured, her fingers gently tracing the curve of your belly. "So, so beautiful."

You let out a soft laugh, adjusting slightly on the bed as the heat of the room made it hard to relax fully. "It’s just the pregnancy glow, I swear," you chuckled, your hand lightly brushing over your exposed skin. "It’s hot in here. I had to get rid of the t-shirt."

Her eyes never left you, drinking in the sight of you like she couldn’t get enough, her fingers still caressing your swollen belly. The love in her gaze was undeniable, and even though she had seen you every day, this moment felt new. You were both changing, evolving, and it was in moments like this that she realized just how deeply she was in awe of you.

"How was your day?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with curiosity. You had missed her all day, and you wanted to know how things had gone for her, even though you knew she must have been exhausted.

Alexia sighed, her hand moving from your belly to rest gently on your side. "Long," she said with a smile, but there was a softness in her eyes. "Busy, but… it’s always worth it. It’s always better when I get to come home to you."

Her words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you could see how much she meant it. You had both come to rely on each other in ways that were difficult to describe—there was a strength in your connection that had only grown since finding out you were expecting.

"It’s always better when we’re together," you murmured, your voice thick with affection as you reached up to touch her cheek, your fingers trailing lightly over her skin.

She leaned into your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she kissed your palm. "Always, mi amor," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Always."

Alexia leaned down again, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was slow and filled with a quiet longing, the kind that made your heart flutter in your chest. You responded instinctively, parting your lips to let her in, the warmth of her mouth sending a rush of heat through your body. Her kiss deepened, her tongue gentle and deliberate, coaxing a shiver of desire through you.

As she kissed you, one of her hands moved from your side, gliding down to rest on your upper thigh. The touch was light at first, but then her fingers began to knead your skin softly, sending a ripple of pleasure that made you moan quietly, the sound escaping before you could stop it. The sensation was almost enough to make you forget everything else, but Alexia pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes full of tenderness and something deeper—something that made your pulse race.

"Are you tired, mi vida?" she asked, her voice low and filled with concern. She always checked in with you, always made sure you were okay, and you loved her for it. It made you feel safe, loved, cherished.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, and shook your head softly. "Not anymore," you admitted, your voice shy but sincere, your cheeks flushing as you spoke. "I want you."

Even after all these years together, Alexia could still make you blush with just a look, a touch, a single word. It was one of the many things that made your love for her feel so new, so full of wonder. You shifted a little, your heart racing as you met her gaze, waiting for her response.

"What about you?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. You needed to know—her needs, her desires. You had always been in tune with each other, and you wanted to make sure she was okay, that she felt as ready as you did.

Alexia smiled softly, a bashful but sincere smile that made her eyes shine with something playful and warm. "I’m okay," she said, her voice a whisper as she leaned in to kiss your cheek. She pressed another kiss there, then another, each one a gentle, loving promise. "I’ve been wanting you all day."

The admission made your heart skip, and you felt a surge of warmth spread through you. There was no hesitation in her words, just raw, honest desire. She had been thinking about you, wanting you, just as you had been wanting her.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the closeness between you both—how deeply you understood each other, how completely you shared this connection. It wasn’t just physical. It was emotional, it was spiritual, it was everything. And as Alexia’s lips trailed over your skin, you knew you wanted nothing more than to be close to her in every way possible, to feel her love as deeply as you could.

"You’re mine, mi amor," you whispered, the words slipping out almost without thought. "Always."

Alexia’s smile widened at that, and she kissed you again, this time deeper, more urgent. Her hand found its way back to your thigh, and the fire between you both began to build once more. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your breath, the beating of your hearts, and the quiet, unspoken promise that this moment was yours alone.

Alexia pulled back, her eyes locking with yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was that look again—the one that made your heart race and your cheeks flush. That quiet intensity, a mixture of love and desire, that only she could make you feel. You smiled shyly at her, your gaze dropping for a brief second, unable to hold her stare for too long, though you loved how she made you feel in that moment.

She didn’t say a word, just gently caressed your belly, her fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns over the curve of your bump. Her touch was light, tender—soothing in its familiarity. It was a gesture that had become so natural, a way for her to connect with you and the life growing inside of you.

With a quiet sigh, she pulled her shirt off, the movement graceful and confident. You instinctively tried to help her with the clasp of her bra, but with your growing belly, shifting in the bed was a little more difficult than usual. You tried your best, but Alexia gave you a playful look, the kind that told you not to worry—she had this. You both laughed softly at the exchange, the room filled with a gentle, comforting atmosphere. She didn’t need your help, but you loved how she let you try, even if it was just for a moment.

Her eyes sparkled as she moved to remove your bra next, her fingers grazing your skin. But she paused, caught in the fabric of the bra, and a small smile tugged at her lips as she marveled at the softness of it. The way it felt against her fingers—no cups, just the fabric—seemed to stir something inside her, and you could see it in the way she looked at you. A soft sigh escaped her lips, her gaze lingering.

Her hands found their way to your breasts, cupping them lightly, her touch reverent and gentle. You gasped quietly at the feeling of her hands on you, the sensation sending waves of warmth through your body. Her touch was soft but deliberate, as if she were savoring each moment, each caress. It made you feel so good, the way she moved with you, the way her hands knew exactly where to go to make you feel safe, loved, and desired all at once.

You let out a soft moan at the sensation, your body instinctively reacting to her touch. Alexia’s eyes flickered with satisfaction, her lips curling into a small smile as she heard you. It was always a quiet exchange between you both—one that didn’t need words to be understood. She was there, present and attuned to you, and in return, you gave her everything.

Slowly, she pulled your bra and boxers off, the fabric sliding over your skin with a careful slowness that made every movement feel intimate. She helped you shift, settling you onto your side, and for a moment, you just let yourself breathe. The room was still, the only sounds your quiet breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets.

Alexia slipped in behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist, her body pressing gently against yours. Her presence was grounding, and you felt the weight of her love in the soft pressure she applied, a perfect balance of closeness and comfort. She spooned you from behind, her body fitting perfectly against yours, the heat of her skin against yours soothing in its familiarity.

You sighed contentedly, resting back into her embrace. Her fingers trailed lightly up and down your arm, a calming rhythm that made everything feel right. She held you just the right amount of pressure, enough to make you feel safe, cherished, and loved without being overwhelming. The warmth of her body against yours, the sound of her steady breathing, made the room feel like your own little world—just the two of you, entwined in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

"I love you," she whispered against the back of your neck, her voice soft, but full of meaning.

You smiled, closing your eyes as you nestled deeper into her arms. "I love you, too," you murmured, feeling the steady beat of her heart against your back, knowing that in this moment, you were exactly where you needed to be.

Alexia’s lips pressed softly against the back of your neck, her breath warm against your skin as she kissed you tenderly. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you leaned into her more, the comfort of her closeness grounding you. Her hands moved with purpose, trailing slowly from your breasts down your body, as if memorizing every curve, every inch of you.

Her touch was gentle, careful, and filled with reverence. She moved slowly, savoring the softness of your skin as her fingers dipped lower, finding their way to your most sensitive place. The moment her fingers grazed over your bud, a soft sigh escaped your lips. You couldn’t help it. Her touch felt like it had all the time in the world to explore you, to make you feel safe and cherished. Your head fell back, resting against her shoulder, as you allowed yourself to melt into her embrace.

She felt safe in this—being with you, loving you. You could tell in the way she moved, in the way she took her time with you. Her hands circled with care, slow and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you felt every part of her love. You could hear the soft moans escaping her lips, the sound of her getting lost in the moment, in the intimacy between you both. You loved it. You always did. It was a reminder that you were not just her partner but her everything.

Her motions were soft but skilled, each movement calculated and perfect. She knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you feel good, how to bring you closer to the edge without rushing. Your body responded instinctively, and without even thinking, you tried to open your legs a little more, giving her more room, trying to adjust your body to the best angle. The weight of your swollen belly made things a little more difficult, but Alexia never faltered. She worked hard, her determination and care evident in the way she positioned herself, adjusting so that she could keep making you feel good.

She didn’t rush, taking her time to make sure you were always at ease, always comfortable. She was patient, never pushing, always focused on you, and that’s what made the experience so tender, so full of love. You felt her move with you, her fingers working in slow, steady circles that made your breath hitch and your body tremble beneath her touch.

"Mi amor," you breathed out softly, your voice thick with affection and need. "You feel so good."

Alexia's response was a soft murmur against your ear, her breath warm and steady. "I just want to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice full of love and devotion. "Always."

You smiled, feeling completely enveloped in her warmth, in her love, in the trust that you shared. In this moment, there was no other place you'd rather be—just the two of you, intertwined, making love slowly and tenderly, no rush, just love.

As Alexia’s fingers continued their soft, persistent circles, you felt the pressure building within you, that sweet tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core. You could feel your breath quickening, your body responding to her touch with each slow, purposeful stroke. She knew how to push you to the edge, to bring you closer and closer without letting you fall just yet. The sensation of her fingers on you, so skilled and tender, had your body trembling beneath her.

You sighed, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure intensified, the heat pooling low in your belly, spreading through your veins. It was so close now—so close to the release you so desperately craved. Your hips rocked instinctively, pushing into her touch, urging her on, desperate for that final push that would send you over the edge.

Alexia’s lips brushed your ear softly, her voice a low, hushed whisper. “I’ve got you, mi amor,” she murmured, her words wrapped in warmth and promise. Her fingers pressed deeper, moving faster now, pushing you right to that point where you couldn’t take it anymore.

But then, with a small, teasing smile, she withdrew her hand, just enough to leave you hanging, teetering on the edge. You gasped, your body shuddering in protest, desperate for the release that she was expertly denying you. Before you could protest, you heard the soft rustle of her shifting beside you.

You glanced over, confused and intrigued, as she reached into the drawer by the bed. You knew she always had a plan, a way to keep the tension building between you both. She pulled out a small toy, and your breath hitched at the sight. It wasn’t just any toy; it was sleek, smooth, and as she held it in her hand, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rising between you two, the temperature in the room escalating in sync with the growing desire.

Alexia’s gaze met yours, full of quiet confidence, as she slowly trailed the toy down her own body. You could hear the soft sigh that escaped her lips as it pressed against her, her fingers teasing herself in the same way she had been teasing you—deliberate and slow. Watching her, seeing the pleasure flicker in her eyes as she did it for herself, made the heat inside you flare. It was an unexpected, electrifying sight, one that had you aching with desire. The sight of her like this—so beautifully undone, yet still so in control—made your pulse race.

The contrast between the softness of her movements and the growing urgency between you two only fueled the heat that had been steadily building, and now it felt as if the very air between you both was charged. Watching her pleasure herself, seeing the way she writhed and moaned softly with each careful movement, made the desire within you almost unbearable.

Her gaze never left yours, even as she rocked against the toy, the pressure mounting in her own body. "I need you," she whispered, her voice low, rough with need. "But I want you to come first. Let go for me, mi amor. Let me see you fall apart."

The combination of her words and her teasing touch was too much. You could feel your body tightening, ready to burst. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but it only heightened the pleasure that surged through you, pulling you closer to the edge with every second. Your body tensed, your breath shallow, and with one final, skilled movement, Alexia pushed you over that cliff. The release was sudden, intense, as your body shook with pleasure.

The sight of her—of Alexia, lost in the moment as she let the toy press deeper, her own release not far behind—made everything feel hotter, more intense. You could feel her reaching her own high as her body quivered beside you, her moans soft but filled with the same desperate need you’d felt just moments before.

As your breathing slowed, and the aftershocks of pleasure faded, Alexia’s hand returned to you, gently cupping your face as she kissed you softly, lovingly, as if both of you had just shared the most intimate connection.

Your wife’s breath hitched not much later, her movements becoming more frantic as the pressure built, the tightness in her chest and stomach growing. You could see it in her eyes—the way she was teetering on the edge, just like you had been moments before. Her grip on the toy tightened, her body arcing slightly as she gave herself one last push. With a soft moan, she finally succumbed, her body shuddering as she went over the edge, her release washing over her in waves.

Her breath came in shaky gasps, her body trembling as she came down from the high, still holding onto the toy, the sensation lingering as she caught her breath. She leaned into you, her face pressed against your neck as her body melted into yours, the aftershocks of pleasure making her feel weightless.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, letting the warmth of her body calm both of you. There was no rush now—just the soft rhythm of your breathing together as you lay in each other's arms, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

After a few moments, Alexia gently pulled away, her eyes soft and filled with love. She moved carefully, reaching for some wet wipes in the bedside drawer and cleaning you both up tenderly, her touch gentle as she wiped away the remnants of your shared pleasure. Every motion was slow, deliberate—she took her time, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you felt cared for.

When she was done, she tossed the wipes into the bin and then returned to you, her arms pulling you back into her embrace. She settled against you, her head resting on your chest as you stroked her hair, both of you enjoying the stillness that followed.

"Mi amor," she whispered softly, her voice quiet but full of affection. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you replied, kissing the top of her head, feeling her heart beating steadily against yours. You both stayed like that for a long while—just holding each other, breathing together, letting the closeness wash over you as you drifted into the peaceful silence that came after a perfect moment.

#woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso smut #woso one shot #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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manikas-whims · 5 months ago

Note

request for LADS

what if u have to fake date the guys for some reason but its starts becomin difficult for ur heart cuz you start catching feelings

thank you 🙏

thanks for this request! ♡ i went a lil overboard with this LOL. WARNING ⚠️ long post..

Fake Dating the Love and Deepspace men but you catch feelings pt. 1

ZAYNE

❄️ Tara keeps trying to set you up with one of her colleagues, and no matter how subtle she acts about it, you're getting tired of it. Thus, you come to this decision! You request Zayne to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

❄️ The matter of his own feelings aside, Zayne just thinks that fake dating someone to avoid potential dates is incredibly crazy. “You can simply ask your friend to stop.”

❄️ His suggestion is baffling. You feel like an idiot for ignoring the obvious solution. But only a moment later realize that even asking her to stop won't likely deter Tara. At least not until she sees you with a person better than any of her chosen candidates.

❄️ So you decide to let go of the little self-respect you have and beg Zayne to do this for you. He is amused by this ridiculous proposition but agrees nonetheless since he can never really say no to you.

❄️ It's an amazing experience cause Zayne is the perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for— handsome, smart, caring, strict when needed, protective and very accommodating.

❄️ The first time Tara meets him, her eyes literally glow with admiration. And she pats your back like a proud aunt, winking suggestively as she does so.

❄️ However, Zayne has always been great at adapting to the situations at hand and soon your arrangement starts becoming a bit of a problem for your delicate heart.

❄️ It is one thing to show him off to your colleagues. But Zayne has started doing stuff like dropping you home everyday after work, his only explanation being “that's what he would do if he was your REAL boyfriend”.

❄️ And this isn't all. He's taking breaks in the afternoon to have lunch with you everyday and make sure you don't miss any meals. He slips your hand inside his coat pocket on particularly colder days. He even focuses on the little things like wiping a coffee stain from your bottom lip or gently pushing the stray strands of hair behind your ear. All this while, his explanation is: it's what he would do if he were your real boyfriend. And you aren't sure your heart will manage long if this goes on.

❄️ The real issue arises when one of your colleagues point out how they've never seen you kiss. And this makes Tara perk-up too.

❄️ In your defense, you spout some nonsense about how Zayne is kinda shy by nature and doesn't believe in PDA much. “When we're alone, he's very passionate.”

❄️ This leads to Tara and a bunch of colleagues secretly tailing you when Zayne comes to pick you up one evening. For they also wanna see this passionate side of him.

❄️ “Um..Zayne, can we kiss?” You whisper, your eyes averted, and fingers fiddling in nervousness. Its not that you are worried about the "kissing" part. Thats easy. You are actually worried about kissing Zayne.

❄️ As for Zayne, he is confused and shocked at first. Even blushes a little. But thanks to his perceptive nature, he quickly spots your colleagues and understands.

❄️ So as you clumsily teeter closer to him and raise yourself on your feet to reach his height, he chuckles at your efforts as well as the pained expression on your face.

❄️ “Relax.” He commands and magically, his words do calm your nerves a little.

❄️ He smiles then, his big arms wrapping smoothly around your waist as he lowers his head and lets his lips gently linger against yours, igniting a desire within you.

❄️ When he finally pulls back moments later, you nearly loose your footing.

❄️ This is it. The last shred of your sanity blown away. It may have only been a few moments but the kiss leaves an impact on you. Your heart can't take it anymore. Because you enjoyed the kiss more than you should have. And its made you realise that you may have actual feelings for Zayne.

XAVIER

⭐ There's this creepy resident at your apartment complex who's been trying to make moves on you but he's just been so nice and subtle about it that you have no idea how to turn him down. Thus, instead of that, you ask Xavier to play your fake boyfriend for a while.

⭐ “This doesn't seem like a good idea.” He says, hesitantly scratching his cheek.

⭐ Xavier also believes beating the shit out of the guy is a better option, and a permanent solution. But again, you can't do that because the guy hasn't actually done anything threatening or concerning. Thus, any sort of unwarranted violence against such a guy will only result in more problems for Xavier and You.

⭐ So Xavier sighs, and nods with a smile. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”

⭐ “Just do things only a boyfriend would do whenever that guy is around.” You tell him and he nods.

⭐ And so it starts with you dragging Xavier out for morning laps and evening walks around the complex, and you always make sure to hold onto Xavier's arm whenever you spot the strange guy.

⭐ But as the days go by, you sense as if Xavier may be a little too good at his new job.

⭐ One evening as you are working out at the gym on the top floor of the apartment complex, the guy walks in and approaches you. To your annoyance, he begins his usual small talk. But he's barely strung two words together when you feel the warmth of a hand gliding along your waist.

⭐ You look up to find Xavier, his clothes sweaty from workout. He tucks his chin on top off your head, his arm around your waist tightening ever so slightly. “Do you know this guy?”

⭐ It takes a moment for you to realise you're gawking! At the same guy you had asked to pretend to be your boyfriend. And it's not just his fingers stroking circles on your belly but also the way his voice sounds more intimate!??

⭐ Quickly, you compose yourself and stammer a response. “N-Not really. He's a resident just like us.”

⭐ And with that said, you're being steered out of the gym, Xavier's arm never leaving your waist.

⭐ Ever since you've known him, he rarely breaches your personal space without permission. A gentleman through and through. It's you who's been messing with his hair, squishing his cheeks and poking his chest to tease him all this time.

⭐ But ever since you asked him to play boyfriend, he's the one initiating skinship at the most unexpected moments. It's as if this fake dating arrangement has given him a free pass to do everything he usually holds back from.

⭐ Now he holds your hand whenever you're walking together, idly plays with your hair strands when hanging out at your place, and ALWAYS makes sure his arms are around your waist or face nuzzling your neck in the presence of that strange guy.

⭐ You may have been the one who requested him to do this but you aren't so sure about this whole thing anymore.

⭐ A few weeks have passed but the guy is persistent. Now he's always trying to find you when he's sure Xavier won't be around.

⭐ “It's not working. We need to do something more convincing.” You say in a deflated tone. You and Xavier are standing in the hallway of your floor, having just returned from a mission.

⭐ And that creep is lurking at the end of the floor by the elevator, waiting for Xavier to leave so he can ask you out yet again.

⭐ Xavier tucks a hand under his chin, his nose scrunching in thought. “Something more you say..”

⭐ Then in the very next moment, he pushes you against your own apartment door, a hand coming to rest upon it to keep you in place; his other hand gently cradles your face, arching it slightly before he presses his lips against your own.

⭐ Only a moment later he pulls away, then kisses you again. This time with more fervor than needed to fake it. And when he breaks the kiss again, his lips gravitate towards your neck.

⭐ “Xa..Xavier..?” You're stunned. You're not even sure how you are meant to react.

⭐ Xavier pushes away from you slightly and turns his head, his gaze directed right at the strange man. “She’s mine.” He asserts.

⭐ The man is as shocked as you are and immediately runs away.

⭐ Xavier looks back at you and flashes his usual soft smile. “This should convince him enough.”

⭐ Seriously!? Who cares about that guy anymore? Your heart is the most convinced that you may possibly be falling for Xavier.

RAFAYEL

🌊 “Miss Bodyguard, would you like to date me?” Rafayel asks one day out of the blue, and you are left feeling equal parts flustered and confused because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?

🌊 He enjoys watching you trying to act nonchalant when your fidgety movements and flushed cheeks clearly tell him otherwise.

🌊 Finally he explains how he has accumulated quite the fanbase, thanks to not just his art but his gorgeous looks. And now these same loving fans are becoming slightly toxic with how they stalk him around, making it impossible for him to even go out in peace. Aa such, he wants to promote you from the position of his bodyguard to fake girlfriend.

🌊 You don't like the sound of it. You can already smell trouble from afar but you know he'll keep pestering until you relent. So you agree to it in the end.

🌊 Only later you realise what you've actually gotten yourself into.

🌊 Rafayel is already kinda clingy by nature but now that you've agreed to his dating charade, he's fully taking advantage of it.

🌊 Everytime he drags you out to a public spot, he makes sure that the two of you hold hands. And rather than going to places that may inspire him for his paintings, he drags you to expensive fashion brands stores.

🌊 Even as you refuse to let him buy any of it, he makes you try on the outfits for hours, making you turn this way and that, asking you to pose in specific ways as he snaps numerous photographs (which he'll definitely use as reference for his portraits of you). And just when you think it's over with all the fancy clothes, he makes you try on footwear next.

🌊 He's also buying you all these gifts you never asked for. He's basically spoiling you with things you can't otherwise afford.

🌊 He's also posting a lot of cringe yet cutesy couple photos with you on his social media accounts.

🌊 And you may not admit it but you are beginning to enjoy being spoilt like this.

🌊 Weeks pass without you even realising. This arrangement is becoming more and more dangerous for your heart. Because lets be honest Rafayel may be enjoying playing around with you like this but the same can't be said for you. You know that if this goes on any longer, your heart is bound to make space for him.

🌊 “How much longer do we need to keep this up?” You ask one day.

🌊 He merely winks at you. “Just a little longer.”

🌊 You try your best to keep your emotions in check. You just need to endure him and his charm for a little longer. Heck! You kill wanderers for a living so the matters of heart shouldn't be anymore difficult than that. Right? Right?

🌊 Oh how foolish you are.

🌊 It happens during a private gala Rafayel is invited to and of course as his “girlfriend”, you're supposed to go with him.

🌊 That, and the other reason being this crazy musician who will be there. Apparently she's been hitting on Rafayel for a while now, and your appearance may finally make her retreat.

🌊 So there, amidst the crowd of snobbish strangers, Rafayel asks you for a dance. And in the dim glow of the hall, paired with a slow, romantic tune, he feels closer than he is. And it happens..your resolve falters.

🌊 He wiggles a brow towards the corner of the room, and surely enough, you spot the aforementioned crazy musician. Indeed, she doesn't seem very happy with the way Rafayel has his arms around you.

🌊 And to deliberately spur her further, he lowers his head. His breath is ticklish along your skin as he whispers in your ear. “You’ve moved along quite well to my tune. You're a good dancer.”

🌊 For some reason, you don't like those words. Rafayel complimenting you so freely cannot be a good sign.

🌊 “Just endure a little longer, Miss Bodyguard. Tonight will be the last run of this charade.”

🌊 Then he tucks a lose strand of hair behind your ear and leans his face in, his lips gently brushing along yours before pressing harder.

🌊 The kiss is slow and lingering, just like the song being played. But it seems that the moment you begin to give in and truly relish it, the moment ends. He pulls away and smiles.

🌊 Yet you can't muster enough strength to smile back for its happened. Your resolve is broken. Your heart has already reserved the best spot for him. And you aren't ready to let go of this charade any time soon..

here's [PART 2]

i have 4-5 more LADS requests to finish. i'm working on them and will post them soon ✌️😊

THANKS FOR READING ♡

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darlingdekarios · 11 months ago

Text

abandon all hope.

RATING: explicit. 18+ only. — LENGTH: 9,131— Raphael x f![warlock]tav [reader]

CONTENT: being a patron is being a sugar daddy/mommy you can't change my mind, set during Act II canon, small amounts of alcohol consumption, toxic behavior/ expressions of possession/ownership, "fluff", SMUT [unprotected p in v], KINK(S) [praise kink, orgasm control, hair pulling, biting, scratching/clawing, blood, breath play, dacryphilia, just a little degredation, size], there's a lot of poetry in here I did my best, Haarlep cameo, the least Raphael could've done for killing an Orthon for him is fuck us ffs, have fun thinking Raphael is bad at sex I'm built different, this got out so out of hand

you had become his absolute favorite - his most precious client and prized treasure. it's become increasingly difficult not to admit that you're truly his forever...and he's ready to hear it.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #raphael smut #bg3 smut #raphael fanfic

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andreawritesit · 4 months ago

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hello love can i request cregan with reader who’s like his opposite, she hates seeing animals hurt, can’t stand the sight of blood stuff like that. maybe he doesn’t know how to handle her at first

Fandom: House of the Dragon Pairing: Cregan Stark x Wife! Reader Warnings: Mentions of hunting, blood, dead animals, Cregan being the best Words: 1,240

You stood at the window of your chambers, letting the crisp and cold wind hit you. It was a sharp contrast to the life you were used to as the Lady of a Southern house. Just a few moons ago, you were basking in the warmth of the Southern sun and now here you stood, in the heart of the North, married to Lord Cregan Stark.

Your marriage was one of alliance rather than love—a union forged to strengthen ties between your houses. You were known for your gentle nature and had always been uncomfortable with violence and bloodshed. Your heart ached at the sight of suffering, be it human or animal. Cregan, on the other hand, was a seasoned warrior, a man hardened by the cold and the responsibilities that came with his title. He was a leader who had seen his share of battle, a man of few words but much action.

The first few weeks of your marriage had been, interesting to say the least. The Northerners had their own customs and their own ways of living. And unfortunately for you, they proved to be completely opposite to yours. Cregan, used to the harsh ways of the North, found it difficult to understand your sensitivity. He respected your kindness but was baffled by your inability to handle the realities of the world.

As the wind got harsher, you pulled the furs on closer, a shiver running down your spine. Even though you had come a long way in your marriage, your mind often replayed that one incident you wished you could erase from existence. You cursed inwardly as your mind went straight to that day again.

It was a cold morning when Cregan decided to take you on a hunt with him. You wanted to tell him no, to tell him how much you hated seeing animals get hurt but your mother's advice rang in your ears of "never disobeying your husband". So you nodded and went with him. Somehow, you had managed to stay away from the hunting party, instead sitting on a boulder nearby under the watchful eye of your husband's loyal guards. After some time, the hunting party returned. Among the game they had caught was a wounded deer, still alive and struggling. You gasped, your eyes filling with tears as you rushed to the animal, ignoring the blood that stained the snow. You knelt beside the creature, your hands shaking as you tried to soothe it.

Cregan watched from a distance, his expression unreadable. He had been raised to respect the necessity of hunting, understanding that survival often required hard choices. As he approached, he saw the distress in your eyes and felt a pang of guilt. Kneeling beside you, he placed a hand on your shoulder.

"My Lady," he began softly, "this is the way of life here. The deer is suffering; it would be kinder to end its pain."

Your head whipped towards your husband, your expression one of disbelief. "How can you be so…cold?" you whispered. "It’s still alive. It deserves compassion, not death."

Cregan hesitated, torn between his practicality and an urge to comfort you. He understood your distress but in his world, emotions had no place in survival. He held your shoulders and helped you stand up. Without saying a word, he took you aside and nodded to one of his men who ended the deer's pain swiftly. The tears that had formed in your eyes finally started flowing, your heart aching for the poor animal.

That evening, you found yourself in the Great Hall, surrounded by the Stark family and their bannermen. A feast was being held to celebrate the successful hunt. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat, and the walls echoed with laughter and the clinking of tankards. Cregan sat beside you, a rare smile adorning his face. He didn't smile much in front of everyone. You had seen a fair share of his smile though. You felt out of place, a stranger in your own home. The conversation around you was filled with tales of battles and hunts, stories that made your stomach churn.

A loud cheer erupted from the other end of the table. A group of men had brought out a large boar, its tusks glinting in the firelight. The sight of the dead animal, its eyes still open, made you feel dizzy. You looked away, your hands trembling. Cregan noticed your state and held your hand in his, squeezing it lightly. "Are you alright, my love?"

You shook your head, trying to steady your breathing. "I just…I can’t stand the sight of blood," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don’t have to stay," he said, his voice softening. "If this is too much for you, we can retire for the night."

You nodded, grateful for the reprieve. As you both stood to leave, Cregan watched you, a sense of unease settling in his chest. He realized that he didn’t know how to handle your delicate nature, how to bridge the gap between your vastly different worlds.

A particularly strong gush of wind knocked you out of your memories. You took a deep breath and finally closed the window. After pacing around in the room in vain, you decided to visit Godswood instead. That place always brought you a sense of calm. Putting on another fur cloak over the one you were already wearing, you quietly left.

Cregan was finally done with most of his work for the day and decided to spend some time with you. Your maids let him know that you were in the Godswood so he wasted no time and came to see you.

He found you sitting beneath the heart tree, your fingers brushing over the soft, snow-covered ground. Cregan approached quietly, not wanting to disturb you. He sat down beside you, the silence between you comfortable. You glanced at him, and at the same time, he turned to look at you. You gave each other warm smiles and turned away. You watched the snowflakes fall, each lost in your thoughts.

"Do you love this place?" Cregan asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "The North, I mean. It’s so different from what you’re used to."

You smiled, a soft, wistful expression on your face. "It’s true that the North is harsh, and the people here are different from what I’m used to. But there’s a beauty in it, a purity. The snow, the silence…it feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something."

Cregan looked at you for a long moment. "I’ve been thinking," he said hesitantly. "About what you said…about the deer. You’re right. It deserved compassion, even in its last moments."

You looked at him, surprise clear on your face, and then a soft chuckle escaped your lips. "You don’t have to pretend to agree with me," you said softly.

Cregan shook his head. "I’m not pretending," he said firmly. " You’ve shown me that there’s strength in kindness and courage in compassion. Perhaps, sometimes it is better to let the ice melt."

A smile settled upon your face, a warm, radiant smile that made Cregan’s heart beat a moment quicker. He reached out and took your hand, a gesture of both apology and promise. You both sat there in the quiet of the Godswood, two souls from two different worlds, making a better one for themselves.

#hotd x reader #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark fanfic #andreawritesit

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nyoomerr · 7 months ago

Text

Shen Yuan entered Luo Binghe’s life like any other good thing he’s ever had: with great difficulty, and accompanied by copious amounts of sex.

The difficult parts don’t bear talking about. Luo Binghe still feels his stomach drop at the reminders of those first few mercurial months of knowing Shen Yuan, at the way Shen Yuan had unintentionally dismantled most notions of what Luo Binghe thought a happy ending should be like. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite enjoy thinking about that time: it had been, in some ways, a more miserable challenge to overcome than his time in the Abyss had been.

(It had been, in many ways, the only challenge Luo Binghe had ever had to face that was directed inwards. There was no straightforward evil to banish or monster to slay. There was hardly even a wife to seduce, given the fact that Shen Yuan had let himself be seduced by Luo Binghe’s image long before Luo Binghe himself had ever arrived in Shen Yuan’s world to begin with.

There was only this: in order to grasp the incandescent happiness that Shen Yuan presented - that Luo Binghe deserved - he had to admit that every moment of so-called happiness he had experienced for the last century had been a fool’s imitation of it. In order to be happy with Shen Yuan, he had to admit to being miserable without him.

It was humiliating, and it was nauseating, and it had even made Luo Binghe cry once, where he thought Shen Yuan wouldn’t be able to see him.

He’d been so, so glad when it turned out Shen Yuan wouldn’t even look away from that - from Luo Binghe at his least lovable.)

No, the difficult parts of Luo Binghe’s conquest of Shen Yuan are best kept carefully out of mind. The other, better parts of that conquest - the parts involving hot skin against skin, as close as Luo Binghe could get to fitting Shen Yuan within his own flesh where he could never part from him - those parts are far more pleasant to remember, and Luo Binghe works to make new memories of that sort every day.

Despite its pleasantness, however, the sex is not Luo Binghe’s favorite part of his courtship with Shen Yuan.

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, voice just an octave shy of a proper whine, “surely we can spend summers in my world? You can’t really think this heat is more pleasant than modern AC, ah?”

Luo Binghe hums, leaning in to run his mouth across the plane of Shen Yuan’s neck, savoring the smell of Shen Yuan’s sweat. His skin is tacky from the heat; Luo Binghe briefly fantasizes about being able to stick himself to it permanently.

“Wasn’t it Yuan-er who begged to see the Fire-Driven Herons’ migration? It only happens once every decade, after all.”

“I know that,” Shen Yuan says, scowling. “I was the one who told you that.”

“Yuan-er is the most knowledgeable about this world,” Luo Binghe agrees.

Shen Yuan sighs, squirming half-heartedly in Luo Binghe’s lap - a wordless threat to get up. Obediently, Luo Binghe waves the fan in his free hand a bit quicker in Shen Yuan’s direction, threading delicate veins of qi into the generated wind to ensure it’s pleasantly cool. Satisfied, Shen Yuan settles back in, starting up one of his charming lectures about the fauna of Luo Binghe’s world.

Luo Binghe listens more to the cadence of Shen Yuan’s voice than to the words themselves. He doesn’t often find it necessary to know the ecological features of a beast in order to slay it, or to capture it for Shen Yuan’s zoo, or to cook it into a proper meal.

Still, this is what Luo Binghe likes best - what he likes even more than sex, which he’d thought to be his favorite activity from the ages of 17 to 132.

Lounging on the ground, Shen Yuan sat snugly in his lap and held close by Luo Binghe’s free arm, allowing himself to be pet and cuddled as if it were a natural part of a trip to see some ugly birds migrate -

Pressing his nose into the nape of Shen Yuan’s neck, left bare by Luo Binghe’s own hands that had been responsible for putting Shen Yuan’s hair up in its current complicated hairstyle -

Idly fanning Shen Yuan to keep him cool even even while Luo Binghe himself is the greatest source of heat when pressed so close in the summer sun like this -

Over a century into his so-called happy ending, Luo Binghe has rediscovered his greatest pleasure to be physical affection of a non-sexual sort, and Shen Yuan gives it as freely as he breathes.

Oh, he fusses and complains and acts as if he must be coaxed into loving Luo Binghe, but it is such a poor act that Luo Binghe can’t help feeling nothing but warm indulgence towards it.

“Don’t be so bold,” Shen Yuan will scold when Luo Binghe buys lube without hiding his identity, and yet in the next moment he’ll casually thread his fingers between Luo Binghe’s to hold his hand all the way through their walk down the main street of town.

“Who taught you to act like this, ah?!” Shen Yuan will complain when Luo Binghe ensures his subordinates know what an honor it is to be allowed to look at Shen Yuan, but then it will be Shen Yuan himself who will seat himself directly at Luo Binghe’s side instead of any more appropriate location for a Lord’s wife.

“There’s no need to be so sticky,” Shen Yuan will sigh when he catches Luo Binghe practically running back from the kitchens with breakfast, eager to return to his sweetheart’s side, but then Shen Yuan will happily eat from Luo Binghe’s own chopsticks, even during meals taken in the main dining hall.

Despite all his aired grievances, Shen Yuan himself breaks countless social boundaries a day without even blinking. He truly thinks nothing of it, believing these gifts he presses into Luo Binghe’s heart to be nothing but normal for a couple. Normal! As if Luo Binghe has not heard tavern songs about the Demon Emperor’s shameless new male wife, spun by every servant and enemy alike that has visited the palace and been struck to flustered embarrassment at the way Shen Yuan acts!

Luo Binghe wants to roll Shen Yuan up in one hand and eat him. He dared to say as much to Shen Yuan, once; Shen Yuan had merely rolled his eyes and told him that he wasn’t into “vore.”

(Luo Binghe had made a note to research this “vore” when they next returned to Shen Yuan’s world. He’s learned that he can coax Shen Yuan into a great many number of things, if he does it slowly and lovingly enough. The delay will give Luo Binghe time to figure out a way to both take Shen Yuan’s flesh and blood into his own without then being left without a Shen Yuan to hold in his arms.)

Certainly, some part of Luo Binghe knows this quirk in Shen Yuan’s behavior to be a byproduct of the world Luo Binghe had stolen him from. The standards for modesty are warped in that place, and Shen Yuan had been gently raised by the hand of that world to not notice anything odd about it.

A god is no less sacred for having come from the heavens where more gods reside, though. Nor does a man feel faith to any of those supposed unseen gods when one presently sits in their lap, free to worship with prayer and touch alike. None of the other people of Shen Yuan’s world had offered Luo Binghe something so precious as the free flowing love that Shen Yuan shows him. None of them had been so foolish, and so sweet, and so carelessly thoughtful despite a cute mean streak hidden within, and -

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, and Luo Binghe bites at Shen Yuan’s neck to prove he’s listening. Shen Yuan sighs. “Bing-ge, you aren’t listening to a word I say.”

“I am,” Luo Binghe says, “I just bit you to prove it.”

“Wha - how does that prove - oh, you’re hopeless!” Shen Yuan cries, squirming again, this time with a stronger intention.

Displeased, Luo Binghe casts aside the fan he’d been using to cool Shen Yuan, moving instead to curl both arms around Shen Yuan’s middle. When Shen Yuan keeps squirming, he trails one hand down to rub at Shen Yuan’s thigh, listening for Shen Yuan’s indignant protests. Luo Binghe may have grown drunk on the simple act of holding Shen Yuan without the need for it to be sexually pleasurable, but he isn’t above using sex to keep Shen Yuan close if he must. He refuses to give up even a millimeter of contact with this precious person unless there is no other option.

“You’re insufferable,” Shen Yuan complains, slapping at Luo Binghe’s creeping hand several times. “We’ll miss the migration we came all this way to see if you keep this up!”

“I’ll miss Yuan-er’s closeness the most,” Luo Binghe says gravely, and Shen Yuan snorts.

“Insufferable,” he repeats, and then gives his most put-upon sigh. “Can’t you just settle for holding my hand for at least until the birds leave?”

Happily, Luo Binghe stops feeling Shen Yuan up and intertwines their hands instead. Shen Yuan praises him for his patience, as if the simple feeling of their palms pressed together isn’t more pleasurable than the greatest heights of ecstasy found in any bed.

One day, Luo Binghe will confess this to Shen Yuan: that he’s truly deviated far too much from the erotic character Shen Yuan had read all about in that other world. That somehow, when it’s Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe feels so overwhelmed with simple affection that his greatest desires are as chaste as a young boy’s. Oh, he still enjoys the sex, but -

But ah, what he really loves most is this.

#i was rotating binggeyuan in my mind too much and accidentally wrote this. surprise!#might clean this up / extend it a bit and post it on ao3 after i finish my fth fic #svsss #binggeyuan #bingyuan #fic drabble

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ssprayberrythings · 7 months ago

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facing it together | CL16

charles leclerc x female!reader

warnings: emotional angst, pregnancy, accident, mention of loss, blood, hospitals, mention of loosing a baby

note: i took some inspiration for this from an episode of one tree hill (my favourite show) when haley gets into the accident while pregnant in season four / also i don't know much about medical procedures so im sorry for any inaccuracy and/or sounding unrealistic

word count: 3.7k

masterlist | taglist

You and Charles hadn’t been dating long but you were already head over heels for each other, knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your lives with each other.

Your relationship however had recently been thrown a curve ball in the shape of a positive pregnancy test. At first you were both stunned and at a loss of words but once the shock wore off, you were able to have a proper conversation on what you wanted to do and you both agreed you wanted this.

There were some obstacles as Charles lived in Monaco when he wasn’t going across the world with his career and you lived in London where you had your job and your friends.

That was the first obstacle which didn’t take long to resolve, you wanted to be with Charles and if that meant moving to Monaco you were all in.

The next obstacle was moving. Moving was a difficult task for anyone let alone a pregnant woman whose boyfriend could only be of help during small breaks at a time.

Which was why you both had decided to hold off on the moving process until it was the summer break for Charles and he could fly to London to help you fully and so until then you decided to stay in London.

You would’ve loved to been able to go and see Charles during some of the races but your first trimester was nothing but a nightmare.

Your morning sickness was basically all day, your body ached and most of the time all you wanted to do was sleep. Charles understood completely and would reassure you that you were housing your unborn child, he prioritized that above everything else.

Another obstacle was the media. You and Charles hadn’t been dating long, less than a year and now you were having a baby. You were afraid of what people would say which was why you held off telling anyone especially the fans at least until you were situated in Monaco with Charles and then you could figure it out from there.

Once you hit your second trimester, you started feeling better which brought both you and Charles relief. You had also been able to join him at Silverstone seeing as it was where you lived. You thanked London for being rainy because it allowed you to wear a hoodie to cover the bump you had started developing.

It had been a decent race given the weather. Charles managed to get P4, he would’ve loved to have been on the podium for you but you reassured him you were proud of him regardless of where he placed, plus you reminded him with no podium celebrations gave them more time together which uplifted his mood.

Luckily there was a bit of a break between Silverstone and the Hungary Grand Prix which meant Charles could not only spend time with you but could also help you start to pack up your apartment.

He had stayed as long as he could in between the races but unfortunately the time came when he had to go. You sadly smiled at him as you stood by your door

“It’s only a few weeks baby and then we’ll be able to start being a family” you reminded him as he put his hand on your small but noticeable bump.

It was still a little early for Charles to feel your baby but you could sometimes feel little flutters, regardless he still enjoyed having his hands on your bump.

He nodded at your words “I know I know” he said as he closed his eyes temporarily before opening them again and leaning down to give you a kiss before going on his knees to talk to your bump

“Hi baby of mine, its your Daddy” he started as you smiled looking down at him “I have to leave you and mommy again but I promise you soon we’ll all be together and then before we know it you’ll be with us in our arms” he said “I cant wait to meet you, I love you” he said giving your bump a small kiss before getting up.

You shared another kiss and then he grabbed his bag, leaving. You sighed, you couldn’t wait till you were back in his arms and could officially start this chapter of your life together.

The events that followed however was by far the biggest obstacle you, Charles and your unborn baby would have to face.

You had been packing in between watching your boyfriend’s qualifying on Saturday and then ready to watch the race on Sunday especially given there was only an hour time difference.

Sunday rolled around and you realized you didn’t have anymore packing foam. You groaned of course right as the race was about to start so you quickly shot Charles a text, knowing he wouldn’t see it until after.

'Y/N: Good luck baby! Me and Baby are rooting for you! ❤️ '

You sent it and then got up, putting your coat on, slipping your boots on and being sure to grab your purse that had your wallet in it. You left your apartment, locking up and started your way to the hardware store.

You were a careful person when you crossed streets and always made sure to double check for any cars coming especially since the pregnancy, you couldn’t risk anything. If only today had been like others.

It all happened so fast, you started stepping on the road to cross to the other side when a car came zooming and before you or the driver could react, the car had hit you pretty badly, knocking you out almost immediately.

The driver instantly pulled his phone out calling 911 before checking on you. You were bleeding from your head and your white coat had blood stains mixed with road dirt.

The paramedics arrived as fast as they could and took care of you. The police had also arrived and had escorted the driver away to deal with him once he was all cleared.

You however were in pretty rough shape and once the paramedics realized you were pregnant too, they knew they had to move faster to hopefully be able to save you and your baby.

Charles’ POV

That race had been so exhilarating. I had managed to get P2. Immediately I jumped into the teams arms once the car was parked and I was out of it.

As I got congratulated from everyone I smiled, thanking them and then made my way to the cooldown room. I spoke casually with Max and Fernando who were the other drivers on the podium.

Eventually came time for the podium ceremony. I smiled at everyone down below and after the national anthem came time for the champagne showers. Once that was all done, I had some time to go back to my drivers room to freshen up a bit before some media interviews.

I reached for my phone once I entered the room and a frown appeared on my face. There was only one text from you and it had been from before the race.

That was unusual seeing as you would usually spam text Charles and after his P2, you would’ve already sent congratulations with an excessive amount of emojis.

Suddenly I felt uneasy, not sure if I should give you a call to check in. Before I could pull up your contact to give you a quick call an unknown number was calling me. The area code was from the UK, the only person I knew from there who would’ve been calling was you.

I answered immediately “Hello” I said waiting for a response but instead was met with something that sounded alot like sniffles from crying “Hello” I said again a bit louder

“Oh sorry, is this Charles? Y/N’s boyfriend” an unknown voice asked

“Yes. Who is this? Is she okay?” I asked, the uneasy feeling never leaving me

“This is Janice Im a friend and a co worker of hers, she gave me your number after she found out about the baby incase anything happened” she started saying

“I don’t know how to tell you this but she was in a pretty bad accident, she’s in surgery right now” she finished telling me.

Suddenly I felt dizzy and off balance. I sat on the couch in my drivers room and took in her words ‘accident’ and ‘surgery’.

“Charles, are you still there?” I heard Janice ask even though I was struggling to find my words. Then suddenly it hit me and I realized what was happening.

“Yes I’m here. I’m getting on a flight as soon as I can. Please text me the details” I told her before hanging up.

The next few moments passed as a blur as I quickly dressed into proper clothes, not even caring where I through my race suit, someone could come in here after and tidy up. I grabbed my backpack and flew out the door. I needed to find Fred and then leave.

I saw Fred luckily right when I rushed down the steps standing with Carlos

“Ooi mate where are you going in such a rush” Carlos asked seeing how frazzled I must’ve looked

“My girlfriend she was in a bad accident, I need to get to the UK” I rushed out

“Wait what happened to Y/N” he asked

“Im not sure I just know she’s in surgery and I need to be there for them when she wakes up” I explained then remembered no one knew about the pregnancy

“What do you mean them?” Fred asked

I sighed, the longer I stayed here the more stressed I became “She’s pregnant. We were keeping it a secret until we were ready to tell people other than family” I said as Carlos and Fred both shared the same expression of shock and happiness but then remembered what had happened to Y/N.

“Go, it’s fine, we’ll come up with a reason why you had to leave” Fred said matter a factly “Go to the airstrip. I’m gonna call ahead for a private jet, you’ll get there quicker” he said before stepping away, pulling his phone out to make the arrangements.

I shared a look with Carlos before he nodded at me and I was out the doors. The lives of the two most important people in my life hung in the balance and I couldn’t get to them any quicker if I tried.

After a flight that I swore took a lifetime, I finally arrived at the hospital Janice had texted me the address of. I rushed in to the front desk

“Hi my girlfriend Y/N Y/L/N was brought in, she was in an accident” I told the nurse slightly out of breath

“Hold on let me check” she said typing away in her computer before bringing your file up “It looks like she’s in recovery. You’ll have to wait in the waiting room and the doctor will be with you in a moment to fill you in” she explained

“She’s pregnant, is there anything on the baby?” I asked my heart aching at the thought of possibly losing the baby. “Im sorry sir, there’s nothing on the baby yet” she said sympathetically. I nodded and went to sit down.

I hated hospitals. After loosing my father and Jules, they just made me feel very uneasy. I found it hard to sit still, every time I sat down my leg bounced to the point I had to get up and pace instead.

I just needed them both to be okay. I didn’t want to imagine what life would be like without either of them.

“Family for Y/N Y/L/N” I head a doctor ask, I quickly walked over “Thats me, I’m her boyfriend and the father of her baby” I told him. I tried to gage the look in his eyes but he was hard to read which didn’t help my uneasiness.

“Your girlfriend was hit pretty hard, she has a couple broken ribs” he started explaining “She also hit her head which caused some bleeding in the brain but luckily we were able to stop the bleeding, unfortunately because of that though she’s currently in a coma. We have hope she’ll wake up, it’s just hard to tell when that’ll be” he finished as I took in all of his words.

“And the baby?” I asked hearing my voice crack

“At this point it’s hard to tell, Im sorry” the surgeon said “I can give you her room number though and you can go sit by her bed. Hopefully she’ll be awake soon and we can get an ultrasound done for the baby” he told me as I nodded afraid to speak.

Once I had her room number I took the elevator up and walked in when I reached the door. She was laying so peacefully, it almost looked like she was sleeping minus the monitors around her and the bandage wrapped around her head. I wanted to break down but I knew I needed to be strong for her and our child.

I carefully sat down in the chair next to her bed, reaching for her hand, holding it gently and placing a delicate kiss on her bruised knuckles.

“Oh mon amour” I whispered “I need you to wake up, not just for me but for our child” I said still whispering slightly even if no one was around “You’re my whole world, I cant lose you, either of you” I said placing a hand on her bump.

There was no movement or any change for the first few hours, I was starting to lose hope so I went to the one place I thought might be able to help.

I quietly walked into the prayer room, taking a seat in one of the back isles. I wasn’t an overly religious person which was why I wasn’t here for God but rather someone else.

“Jules, if you can hear me I need you to do me a favour” I started closing my eyes “Please please pull some strings and do what you can up there to help her and our baby, I cant lose them too” I said as I felt a tear fall from my eye

“As much as I know you’d take care of them up there, I don’t want that” I continued opening my eyes and wiping the tears that started to fall “Just please, you and Papa, I need you two to help us out down here” I finished before getting up and walking back to her hospital room.

Y/N’s POV

Everything hurt. I felt this weight on me but I couldn’t figure out if it was really there or if my body just felt heavy. I used every bit of strength I had to try and open my eyes which wasn’t easy, especially with this weight on me.

Eventually the light started to shine through and after a couple blinks my eyes focused on a white ceiling. I couldn’t move my head too much but I was able to take a glance around me, I was in a hospital.

I thought back to the last thing I remembered and suddenly it all came rushing back, where I was going, starting to cross the street, the impact of the car, then after that it goes dark.

I noticed a head on my lap, confused at first but then soon realized it belonged to my boyfriend. He must’ve been sleeping. More of the day came back to me; texting him before the race, not being able to watch it.

My throat was extremely raw but between my slight movement and struggling to take a few breaths I was able to muster out his name which got his attention immediately.

“Oh my love youre awake” he said, I saw tears forming in his eyes “Wait here drink some water, the doctor said it might hurt to talk at first” he said as he leaned over grabbing a cup from the bedside table, helping me drink the water. It helped with the raw feeling.

“Thank you” I said softly “What happened?” I asked even though I remembered some of what had actually happened.

“You were in an accident. Someone hit you with their car, the paramedics said your head was bleeding when they arrived on scene and it caused a bleed in your brain but the surgeons were able to stop it” he started explaining what happened after it went dark.

“You also have a couple broken ribs but they’ll heal with time” he finished stroking my face

“I was so scared when I got the call. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast to get out of the paddock before” he told me softly. I could tell he was barely holding it together.

“Im okay. Im here” I reassured him taking his hand squeezing it so he knew this was real, he nodded.

“What about the baby? Is the baby okay?” I asked suddenly as I glanced at my bump

“They haven’t been able to do an ultrasound without you awake but they aren’t sure, they said we should be prepared for the worst” he told me sadly. I sighed, there was no way this could be happening. Before we could say anything more to each other, my surgeon came in

“Oh Miss Y/L/N, it’s lovely to see you awake” he smiled at me, I did my best to smile back, he had saved my life after all.

“Im assuming your boyfriend told you everything I passed along to him so I wont bore you with the details again” he continued “I will say your broken ribs should take about 6 weeks to heal and you’ll have to come back for weekly checkups for your head until we can be sure it hasn’t started bleeding again” he went through his doctor notes.

I nodded along with him “And one last thing, I’ve called the on call obstetrcian to come and do an ultrasound to see the status of your baby. She should be here any minute and once she’s done, depending on what she finds we may have to take follow up steps but we wont go down that road now. I’ll send a nurse in after the ultrasounds done to check on your vitals and then we can talk about discharge” he finished. I thanked him before he left.

“Mon amour are you okay? Thats a lot to take in” Charles asked gently holding my hand

“Yeah yeah I’m okay, I just don’t know what we’ll do if we lost the baby” I shared with him using my other hand to rest on my bump

“We’ll figure it out together” he told me leaning over and leaving a kiss on my forehead.

After a few minutes passed, another doctor came in

“Hi I’m Doctor Smith” she introduced herself as she wheeled in an ultrasound machine with her “Lets see what’s going on with your little one” she said trying to be optimistic although everyone knew the results may not be good.

I carefully lifted my gown up to reveal my stomach where she squeezed the ultrasound gel on then used the wand to move it around, turning the machine on.

Charles held my hand, not sure if he realized how tightly he was holding it but it didn’t matter I was squeezing his hand just as tightly.

The room was silent while Dr. Smith continued to move the wand around starting to get a bit nervous until suddenly the silence was filled with a heartbeat.

At first we didn’t know if we had heard it correctly but then she moved the wand slightly over and the heartbeat became louder and clearer. I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding in and felt the tears falling.

When I turned to Charles he was also crying. I did my best to pull him closely to hug him, he wrapped his arm around me kissing my head. “They’re okay. They’re okay” he said as I nodded against him.

“You have a very strong and healthy little boy here, I don’t see anything to be concerned about” Dr. Smith told us

We pulled away from each other and looked at her “Did you say boy?” I asked. She suddenly became aware of what she had said

“Oh im sorry did you not want to know?” she asked, I shook my head,

“No no it’s okay, we just hadn’t gotten around to finding out yet” I explained as happy tears continued to fall.

She smiled at me “I’ll give you a moment and then I’ll be back with your surgeon” she told us as she used a cloth to wipe the gel off my stomach and then left the room, leaving the ultrasound machine in the corner.

“Charles we’re having a boy” I said to him seeing he was in shock “Are you okay?” I asked worried since he hadnt said anything

“Oh yeah i’m okay mon amour, I’m just taking everything in, I was so worried we had lost him” he told me

“Come here” I said carefully moving over remembering about the broken ribs “No mon amour you shouldn’t move” he quickly said

“Charles please come sit with me�� I asked him, he saw the look in my eyes and knew there was no point in arguing so he carefully got up and sat next to me on the bed, being mindful of my broken ribs and the wires.

I looked at him “We’re all okay, me you and our little boy” I reassured him placing his hand on my bump, he nodded.

“I love you so much” he told me kissing my head again

“We love you just as much” I said back to him closing my eyes and enjoying being in his arms, knowing our baby was okay and eventually I’d be okay too.

"Oh wait how did the race go?" I asked suddenly remembering, opening my eyes and looking at him

He chuckled slightly "I got P2" he told me a small smile appearing on his face. I gave him a similar smile back and kissed his cheek carefully

"Another thing to be happy about, congrats baby" I told him putting my head back on his shoulder as he entertained our hands together and kissed the top of my head.

There may have been some obstacles thrown our way and more to come but together we could face anything.

thanks for reading, i hope you liked it. i wanted to write something other than pure fluff so i hope this does well. let me know your thoughts and feel free to add yourself to my taglist for my future works <3

taglist: @namgification @itsyagirlmeee @asparklysoul @bwormie @meadhbhcavanagh @talksoprettyjjx @ari-nicole

#ssprayberrythings x formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #cl16 #cl16 x reader #f1 imagine #imagines #cl16 x you #forza ferrari #cl16 one shot #cl16 imagine

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ceoofyearning · 5 months ago

Text

I only pray, don’t fall away from me

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The world feels like it’s falling apart around you, but Azriel finally comes home and helps you hold all the pieces together.

Tags/Warnings: Hurt and Comfort, depressive themes & thoughts, anxiety, nightmares, mentions of a minor character death (not the mc/reader) || please mind the tags.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: this week was though so here’s a bit of a hurt & comfort fic; hope your days are kind to you guys xoxo

Links: Fic Masterlist | My Art

You’re so damn tired.

The last few weeks have been difficult, to say the least. The healing house has been filled to the brim with the wounded and sick. Altercations with Beron’s soldiers by the border have been increasing at an alarming rate, while countless spies from the continent have been winnowed in after being caught by Koschei’s contingent forces. You can’t even begin to imagine the state of the civilians that might’ve been caught in the crossfire.

There is tension in the air with the threat of the inevitable war looming on the horizon. It doesn’t help that the winter chill, in all of its foreboding fury, has come to ravage the lands and its people. You love your work as a healer, you really do. Some days, the thought of the good you do, the people you help, is enough to keep you going. But too often, it feels like a thankless job that leaves you drained to the core.

In your free time, you’ve been parsing through ancient texts in search of information on Death Gods and anything that could be used against Koschei. His looming threat is a cloud of dread that hangs over everyone, especially Rhys. The least you could do is to help carry the burden. It’s not like you could sleep, anyway. These days it is as though your mind adamantly refuses to let you rest. At the very least, the task keeps you distracted when you’re stuck alone in your apartment.

Ever since Azriel had been sent to the continent for a reconnaissance mission nearly a month ago, the apartment you share has started to feel a little too big, too desolate. Before you knew it, the white walls had been transmuted from your home into what felt like the bars of a cage.

The two of you haven't been apart for so long since the mating bond snapped. You didn’t think you'd feel his absence as acutely as you did, but it felt like the loss of a limb where the wound refused to heal and you were already bleeding out. His part of the bond is blacked out completely, a devouring void where Azriel’s comforting presence should have been. It’s for your own safety, he said. But you can’t help it. You’re plagued with worry, with imagined hurts and tragedies, amplifying the brewing conflict in your mind.

It is easier to catch yourself when Azriel is near. When the thoughts begin to swirl like a hurricane around you - winds whipping, oceans rising - it feels like Azriel’s arms are the only safe harbor you can rely on. But Azriel isn’t here now.

What frustrates you most is that you’ve been better recently. You’ve been good. You ate your meals, slept reasonably, even had a goddamned routine set up. You guzzled down your tonics in hopes of smoothing out the edges of your frayed mind, that perhaps it could lend you some semblance of normalcy. But no. Weeks of being haunted by nightmares, of overextending yourself, of loss and suffering seeping under your skin day by day have taken its toll.

You are just too damn tired.

A child died, barely over thirteen years old. She was bastard-born, which meant she had nothing to her name other than the rags on her back and her birthright to suffer generational oppression and cruelty. This is the worst winter the Night Court has had in centuries, and she didn’t even have a decent roof over her head. Needless to say, she hadn’t been in the best health. But despite that, the moment her cycle had come, the men forced her to go through the clipping. In her struggle, the imbeciles accidentally nicked a vital artery. Normally, her Illyrian healing would’ve granted her a strong chance for survival, but she had been so sick, her body weakened by hours spent in the frigid cold.

By the time you had been summoned to heal her, she no longer had the strength to recover. Numbness washed over you at the image of her unseeing eyes, the same shade as Azriel’s in the right light, trained toward the vast empty sky. You have a feeling it isn’t a sight you’d forget any time soon.

You don’t know how long it’s been. The room is shrouded with a thick blanket of darkness, the only respite coming from the dwindling candlelight by your bedside. Only silence exists within these four walls, interrupted by the occasional patter of water leaking from the kitchen sink. You burrow deeper into the sheets, inhaling the trace of Azriel’s scent that still lingered like it would somehow quell this ache inside you.

Despite spending most of the day bedbound, you’ve barely had any sleep. There is no respite to be found in the dreaming, only nightmares lying in wait. It seems your mind has a knack of bringing your worst fears. Azriel bruised, bloodied and utterly alone, lost, somewhere in the vastness of the continent, hazel eyes - his, then hers, then his again - glazing over, crimson seeping into the arid ground below.

For the last few weeks, you’ve gathered your grief and worry like rocks to wear around your neck. Your body is heavy, the phantom weight sinking and settling within the marrow of your bones, refusing to leave. It feels like you could stay in this bed forever until you dissipate into nothing but sand, smoke and thought.

You managed to send out a request for the texts Rhys needed translated, but not much else. You’re thankful he directly portalled them on your worktable because you don’t think you could brave the journey to the library today. You don’t think you could do much of anything today, in all honesty.

So there you lay, bundled up in a collection of blankets, at least three inches of cotton and down that never seem enough to warm you. A book rests in your hands, yet your eyes remain unfocused, not truly seeing the words.

You run your thumb over the crisp paper, knowledge older than you, older than this city and yet you couldn't even bring yourself to focus long enough to dissect their true meaning. Your will is liquid in your hands, slipping through the cracks in between your fingers. Accidentally, you tug too hard on a page and it tears easily beneath your touch. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve been horrified by what you’ve just done. But as you are now, it is difficult to care.

That’s what you feel like at this moment, you realize. These past few weeks have left you feeling spent, worn out, paper thin. Absently, you stretch out your hand towards the candlelight, close enough to feel the warmth lick against your cool skin. The flame casts a brilliant silhouette around your shadowed hand. It’s a wonder why golden light doesn’t seep right through.

That’s how Azriel finds you.

The front door of your apartment creeks open, letting in a flood of muted morning light. Your first instinct is to retreat beneath the covers to shield yourself. Azriel calls your name in the silence, worry permeating each syllable. No doubt, he is cataloging the mess your shared space had become in your unintentional neglect.

You say nothing, wondering if you could just close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, anything to escape his scrutiny. A breath of relief escapes him when he finds you in bed. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits beside you.

The urge to curl tighter around yourself is strong. But he repeats your name and, as though he had cast a spell, you unspool before him, your muscles unwinding, one fiber at a time.

“Can I touch you?” He asks, voice painfully soft.

“Okay,” you croak out from beneath the blankets.

Azriel gradually draws the sheets away from your body, giving you ample time to protest if you’d like. Then, he rests his hand on your shoulder. Unbidden, a shiver runs down your spine, followed by a stuttered breath. You don’t realize how much you missed his touch until his textured hand begins its soothing path up and down your back, his heat sinking into your skin.

Shame washes over you despite the bone-deep comfort you find upon his gentle ministrations. You don’t want him to see you this way. Azriel deserves better, the voices in your head insist. He deserves a mate whose mind does not devour itself at every given opportunity, a mate who does not quake beneath the weight of the world and the idea of their own immortal existence.

As though detecting your train of thought, his shadows leave their preferred perch on his shoulders to pool around you instead. Tendrils of darkness brush away the tears on your face, while some thread through your hair like a gentle breeze.

On the other hand, Azriel urges you to rest your head on his lap. He begins to run his hand through your hair, uncaring of how greasy and tangled it has become. Eventually, his voice pierces the silence, injecting warmth into the distance between you. He hums a tune you do not recognize, but you can't help but cling to each winding note like a lifeline. Azriel has always had a beautiful voice - depthless, silken and soothing. It feels like a privilege to hear the song that he normally reserves for his shadows.

You must’ve been a pitiful sight to behold, and yet Azriel never looks at you like you are. He always treats you like something to cherish, something to love, like you’re someone he’s spent lifetimes desperately waiting for and you’ve been entirely worth the wait. A traitorous part of you feels like you’ll never deserve it, this love.

Azriel must sense the hurricane of emotions waging a one-sided war in your head, despite the mental shields you adamantly keep up. But he doesn’t tell you to stop, doesn’t brush off your worry with empty words and false promises. Instead, he simply says, “I love you.”

He speaks it as though it is a fact like one would say that the sky is blue, and the grass is green, and the world would keep on turning in peteruity, orbiting the sun the same way you’ll continue to orbit around each other. His chapped lips ghost over your temple, murmuring your name like a plea, a prayer.

“More than anything in this world,” he adds as he pulls you into his embrace.

Your body is pliant for him, arms winding around his neck like that is where they’re meant to be. His arms wrap around your waist to hold you impossibly closer. Webbed wings stretch to curl around the two of you, creating a cocoon of darkness that keeps the rest of the world at bay. With your head resting on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat thudding in chorus with yours.

“I love you too,” you reply after a long stretch of silence. “But sometimes I wish you could’ve had a better mate.”

“There is no one better,” Azriel insists. “There is only you, my love; through light, through darkness, through whichever end. Only you.” And you feel the truth of his words as surely as the twinned beating of your hearts. Sometimes it’s hard to convince your traitorous mind that you could have this, that someone could love you so deeply despite having seen you at your worst. Azriel presses another kiss against your cheek, and despite yourself, you begin to believe his words.

You don’t know how long Azriel holds you like that, but it finally feels like a stretch of eternity you could bear.

“What can I do to help, love?” Azriel prompts, cupping your face in the cradle of his scarred palms - their texture, a familiar comfort.

You turn over his question in your head for a few moments, savoring his scent, the sensation of his skin against your own. A part of you is tempted to ask him to lay beside you for the rest of the day, for a week, for an entire lifetime. You know Azriel would if you asked it of him. But beyond this room, the world continues its elliptical path around the sun and time still ticks on regardless of how disconnected you feel from your own reality.

“A bath,” is all you manage to say.

Azriel nods, before reluctantly peeling himself from you. “Have you eaten?”

“‘M not hungry,” you mumble as you sink back into the sheets, sighing as the comforter swallows you up. In truth, you can’t remember when your last meal had been. Hunger didn’t seem so pressing in the last few days.

“That’s not what I asked.” Azriel’s tone leaves no room for argument or negotiation.

“No,” you finally answer, although with much trepidation. “Not yet.”

He hums, clearly displeased, but says nothing else. You can already imagine the frown that must be stretching across his face. But it seems Azriel’s presence alone is enough to quieten your mind, at least for now. You must’ve been dead tired because it doesn’t take long for the rhythmic sound of Azriel's familiar footfalls to lull you into dreamless sleep.

"Love," Azriel whispers, his hand hovering over your shoulder, rousing you from your shallow slumber. You blink languidly until molten eyes come into focus. The candlelight flickers, and shadows dance across his face. Azriel’s normally sharp features are softened by the tenderness in his expression. You’ll never tire of waking to the sight of him.

With a groan, you half-roll half-stumble out of bed. Azriel stays an arm’s length away in case you need him, but he’s careful not to crowd you. His shadows have no such reservations, however. The dark tendrils fretfully twine around your arms, making you smile. You thank them quietly, and for a moment, they seem to dance with delight. Regardless of your initial unsteadiness, you manage to pad all the way to the bathroom.

Upon crossing the threshold, the sweet scent of jasmine immediately overtakes your senses. The tub has already been filled up, steam rising from the sun-covered surface. You begin to unbutton your tunic, clumsy fingers tumbling through your first few attempts. Azriel steadies your hands with his firm grip, his shadows gently circling your wrists.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your tunic, and you nod, not wanting to think anymore. His movements are precise, almost clinical, while he undoes the first five buttons, before bunching the garment in his hands and pulling it over your head entirely. Your skin breaks out in gooseflesh once exposed to the cold air. Azriel is careful to keep his gaze on your face, even as you step out of your undergarments.

Azriel only betrays his composure when he traces your cheekbone, like he can’t quite help himself. From this distance, you have to crane your neck to look up at him. For a moment, the two of you only stare at each other. The bond glows bright between you, the golden thread gleaming as though it hadn't spent the last few weeks completely stretched thin.

But then, Azriel withdraws, tilting his head to the steaming tub. Obediently, you step into the water’s warm embrace, the heat nearly stinging your skin. Logically, however, you know it’s only because you’ve allowed yourself to stay in the cold for too long.

A relieved sigh escapes you as you sink further into the tub. One of his shadows rushes to pillow your heavy head as it rests on the tub’s rim. You thank the sweet little thing, and swirls of black sway back and forth like a dog wagging its tail. Meanwhile, Azriel takes his place by the head of the tub, sitting back on his heels.

“I’d like to wash your hair,” he says and you're touched by the earnest quality his voice takes.

“Okay,” you breathe. You’ve never been good at denying Azriel anything, nor did you want to. The more the ice beneath your skin thaws, the more you find that you want him near.

Azriel begins by running his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp as he pours warm water over your head. With a pop of a bottle, the floral scent of shampoo fills the air. He lathers the substance on your head, his touch tender even as his fingers work through the knots in the strands, untangling them with care.

After a while, he rinses off the suds and coats his hands with oil. He begins combing his fingers through your hair, starting from the ends and working his way up. The rhythmic motion of his fingers is calming as he draws circles against your scalp. You find yourself melting into the moment, feeling utterly content for the first time in what feels like a very long time.

Once done, Azriel grabs a small towel and asks, “Do you want help washing?”

You shake your head, wanting to do this for yourself, at least. Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he spares you a soft smile. With that, Azriel leaves the towel by the tub and politely excuses himself from the room. With the door left slightly ajar, you could still hear him move around the apartment followed by the lyrical clinking of silverware against ceramic.

It takes you a few minutes to gather the energy to lather yourself with soap, and a few more to finally rise from the bath. But once the grime is off your skin, you feel a bit of the weight wash off with it too. You feel a bit more like yourself.

After drying off, you tug on the silk robe Azriel has left for you, securing it loosely around your waist. Upon exiting, you spy him by the dining table, scooping a generous serving of soup into a bowl. The mouthwatering aroma of rich broth wafts through the room, and you realize just how hungry you are when your stomach growls in protest. You approach him from behind, making sure that each step is audible.

Azriel continues to set up the table, but you can tell he’s aware of your presence from the way his shoulders seem to relax. The sudden urge to have him close is palpable, an instinct so deeply ingrained into your being. So, gradually, you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face on his back. You take a deep inhale, breathing him in - a lungful of moontime mist and cedarwood smoke.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you murmur against Azriel’s back, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“I’m glad to be home,” he whispers. His hands abandon their task in favor of twining his fingers with your own.

Azriel turns to face you and holds your face in his hands. Beneath the swathes of sunlight, his eyes are alight with golden flame, flecks of green scattered over his irises like an afterthought. There is nothing but love in his gaze, nothing but acceptance.

“Thank you,” you say, tilting your head so the words could kiss his lips, not quite touching but close. “For being here, for loving me, for choosing me, everyday.”

“I will always choose you,” he vows, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Today,” another peck on the tip of your nose; “Tomorrow,” one more on your cheek; “And all the days after,” he finishes with a chaste caress on your lips.

Then, he rests his forehead on yours, your bodies slotted against each other like a lock and its predestined key. In Azriel’s presence, you find it easier to breathe, easier to simply be. For the first time in a long time, your mind is clear and your heart beats in a calm, languid pace that matches his own.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you request, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel’s gaze is searching, scouring for any hint of anything short of absolute certainty. Perhaps you should tell him that in this world of constant change and chaos, he’s the only one you’re certain of.

Azriel must be satisfied with what he finds written across your features because he replies, “So kiss me then,” the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips.

You’re surprised to find that it’s easy to return the playful expression. Your rise to the tips of your toes while your fingers thread through his raven black hair. When your lips touch, it is as though the world breathes a sigh of relief. Reality realigns and everything outside the two of you and your shared breaths turns inconsequential. He moves against you with practiced ease, like the natural ebb and flow of the tide.

An eternity of this, you think, doesn’t seem so daunting after all.

AN: i’m not sure if that was too much but thank you for reading 💙 As always, i’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes, please lmk thru dm! 💙

Also, I just wanted to yap about the Az fics im in the process of writing:

1. Vampire!Azriel x Reader (Working tittle: Ashes in my wake)

I just love the idea of cannibalism (or yk, blood drinking) as a metaphor for love in literature so here we are. ( @/annikin-im-panicin this is ur influence) This one is a bit of a dark fic (nothing too crazy tho, I think), so i’m not sure how it’ll be received. But the idea has been haunting me for yonks so I just had to write it.

2. Tattoo Artist!Azriel x Lucien’s Best Friend!Reader (Working tittle: Drink dry the river Lethe)

This one is a multichapter fic (maybe 4-7 chapters, we’ll see) so it might take me a while before I start posting, but i’ve mostly finished writing the first (very smutty) and second (very angsty) chapter. I ‘m not entirely sure what direction to bring this yet but maybe you guys can help me decide?

Unrelated to Az, but i’ve been brainworming a poly dark-ish innocent!reader x Feysand fic, and a slightly less dark and more sappy(?) poly warrior!reader x royal!nessian fic. I’m so excited to start these but my pile of wips is giving me the stink eye 😂

#my fic #azriel #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #queued because posting gives me sm anxiety #acotar fic #azriel fluff #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #acotar azriel #acotar fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x you #azriel angst #mind the warnings my loves

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ctheathy · 9 months ago

Text

The Claim of an Operational Sin

Claude Frollo x Reader

Suggestive Oneshot

Is this damn priest dilf energy or nah

Author's note: Have you ever disliked a villain so much you wanted to hate breed them and make them your bitch? Read this, cuz you can :)

You're one of the few ladies the tyrannical man has taken interest in. Something he'd refer to as being bewitched by those who are innocent. Intrigue driven by his own lustful desires similar to his captivation by the beautiful dancer, Esmeralda. But unlike her, you were certainly not as lucky preventing your imprisonment and attempting to escape the minister's grasp.

Frollo/Reader [Romantic Tendencies(???)]

[Gender-neutral Darling|Female Darling|Male Darling]

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

!Female Reader! • Seductive/“Succubus” reader • Imprisoned reader • We're basically gonna be assaulting him WOOHOO • Threats • Reader is unfearful of death • Arousal • Teasing, but it's bordering on degradation • Desperation • Drooling/Salivating • Kissing • ...Leaking...iykyk • He's an old man who's never satisfied his primal desires, what did you expect • This entire fic and concept in general is TW worthy tbh-

I REGRET NOTHING ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“...You are a bloody!” Frollo spoke sharply. Taking a deep breath as he looked at you with a bitter gaze. His eyes were cold now, a sour expression on his face. His eyebrows were raised, as if he was trying to control his anger. He was currently in front of you in one of the many dungeon cells underneath the Notre Dame. “... How long do you think you're going to be alive? If you keep acting like this.” He said, sounding almost like he was threatening you.

And despite his subtle warnings, you kept your time in the cell undisturbed, paying no mind to his little hissy fit. To the point it looked like you were straight up ignoring him, which only fueled his already angered state. Demanding you to not even think of not listening to him whenever he spoke. But in all honesty, his constant irritation was just getting you more entertained by the man. It was like watching a child throw a tantrum. Well. You were more than ready to show him that he picked the wrong lady. That your abduction was an easily regrettable decision for him. He was stuck here with you, not the other way around.

Grinning with anticipation, you leaned against the wall with a careless posture. You couldn't care less about what series of threats he had to offer. “Mhmm? Won't that something you should be worrying about as well? Lusting after women and harassing them for centuries can cause for quite the revolution, if I may” you were sneering with sarcasm. “The most recent victim has certainly been influential. Miss Esmeralda, was it? It’s difficult to control yourself, isn’t it~?” you mocked

“... Silence yourself!” He yelled in a half-angry, half-desperately demanding tone, something that noticeably made you laugh out loud. Frollo felt a hit of shame and embarrassment by the fact that you've taken note of him lusting after her. It was a sin ...he wasn't supposed to feel this way. And it was that gypsy who has bewitched him! Tainting his purity with her alluring words and movements. At least, in the minister's head it was, blaming a fairly innocent soul for his own shameful and unholy impulses.

“Many peasants have faced the consequences of the witches’ actions through either custody or death. So choose your words carefully.” trying to warn you and keep you in line, but your reaction would be ...unexpected. “So what? Everybody will die one day.” You glanced back up to the priest and cocked your head to the side. “Perhaps nature shall take its course in the next future for me too. Who knows? Which would be beyond fine with me” you murmured with yet another chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “But atleast now you still have somebody to turn to, wouldn't you say?” He noticed you sending him a wink of mockery, but was too baffled by your sudden statement.

The eyes of the minister widened, as he heard you say that. “You... You don't value your people's freedom. You... You don't care about your own existence." He gritted his teeth. You could practically see his temper exploding. He never understood how somebody could be so unflappable towards the idea of their own very demise. He felt like he had no control over you, which infuriated him greatly. Though you remained in a calm posture, a look of disinterest in your eyes as he felt the need to mention it. “Look," you began with a bit of attitude, unconcerned about how far you might be pushing him over the edge with your next few words.

“Don't treat your lustful motives as superior over what I lack. Eventually, natural selection shall take its course for all of us anyway. And I'll greet it with open arms as soon as the time comes” you half assed with a small smirk. But Frollo? He did not like that one bit, seething with rage as he snapped

“You don't care if nature takes its course, huh!? Well, I will be the one to take its course, if you will not! I am going to give it my best to make you suffer. I shall tear you down with my own hands.”

You took in his words, as your grin slowly started to expand a little the more he went into detail about his description of how exactly he was gonna take your life. You softly chuckled at his threat, hanging your head down as your hair was resting over your eyes, covering them up as you continued to giggle with pure amusement. “Awh..~” you glanced up at the man once again, some of your teeth exposed with your grin as your eyes were smugly half lid. You readjusted your hand as you gently, yet firmly grabbed him by the jawline, placing your thumb right under his chin as you pressed his skin. “It is truly adorable how undeniably obsessed you are with me. Do you clop to the idea of hurting me too?”

You curled up your index finger as it caressed Frollo on his cheek, your little smirk becoming smaller, but still being very visible nonetheless. “I'm quite flattered, my sweet~” your prying eyes were full of glee as you fluttered your lashes, attracting the man even further if that was even possible. You took a step even closer towards him, your chest almost pressed onto him as you got further into his personal space, so inviting...

And oh dear God. Everything you just said... Your smirk, your stance. It didn't take a genius to figure out that you were attempting to seduce him. You were trying to provoke him. And it was working. “H-hngh..!?” Frollo's breathing grew shallow. Every muscle in his body was starting to tighten in exasperation. He was shaking in anger. That's right. He was angry- so unbelievably, extraordinarily angry. But, he was also... Tempted.

And though his body was noticeably still somewhat stiff, you did not miss him beginning to melt into your touch, despite the obvious death stare in his eyes. He was so easily affected and getting worked up by your shenanigans, it was almost cute. Almost. You smirked to yourself as your soft fingers continued to tease his facial features. You were completely leaning into him at this point, both breasts squished onto him as you kept the eye contact with assertion.

Your free hand even wandered over towards the back of his neck, your fingers gently digging into his spine as you rubbed them up and down, but slowly beginning to add more pressure. “You seem to be making yourself comfortable with me quite swiftly, minister...” you stood on your toes to add on height and match his level, “Is that something you enjoy? Making quick development instead of taking things slowly~?” Frollo's heart literally started beating faster. The way you were saying these things. It was so very seductive. And your finger that was caressing him? You... A-Ah...

“H-How dare you!” His tone sounded so frustrated, like he was trying to hide something. Something he wouldn't want you to find out. You could practically see the rage in his eyes, but the way you spoke? And the way you got so close to him, you could practically feel his anger, his resentment, slowly melt away. His head started to turn red, as he gritted his teeth. He really couldn't take it, you had completely caught him in your trap. And you did that so... effortlessly.

It made him feel weak and submissive, a foreign feeling to the priest. You were completely dominating him. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. You made him vulnerable. You got into his... frozen and rock cold heart. You were in control now, and he was just so very powerless to your charms. His entire body was beginning to tremble. His breathing, it was slowly getting quicker and more shallow. It almost felt- the way you touched him, with such delicate care. The way you were teasing him like this. His entire body was starting to feel so hot. He felt the blood surging, pumping him up, preparing him for something he didn't dare to acknowledge.

And being less vigilant, he admitted to his thoughts much more easily. “It... astonishes me... when you... make me lose control” He said, the tone in his voice being a mix of anger and lust. Of desire. Of passion. Words that you hadn't really expected. You'd never guessed for a response like this. It was so sensual. He was clearly losing control now. The way he had just admitted to you that he was enjoying this? It felt as if he was a man on a chain. And you were the one holding it.

This was not supposed to be happening. Not like this. Frollo was... He was tempted. He was extremely tempted. He did not want to be tempted! He did not want to be lured by your feminine allure and your seducing gestures! Why. Why were you seducing him!? He was supposed to kill you, not fall for your antics dammit! He was literally getting flustered now, much to his embarrassment. And the way you pressed your body against his, as if trying to get as close as physically possible? It was really, REALLY making him nervous.

“Don't... you even DARE ...think that I am enjoying this! I... I am simply attempting to ...to” he began to trail off, unable to even think straight. And the more he was trying to desperately deny your claims, the more amused you became with the show. Without warning, you took another step forward and pressed your hips against him... pinning him with one of your thighs. Both of your bodies rubbing on one another as you adjusted your position again. Wanting to see just how hollow his words actually were.

And now he was definitely flustered. And you could tell. His breathing hastened, and he was literally going bright red. Frollo was trembling. And the fact that you could sense just how aroused he was, just made it worse. Because... Your intimate areas were rubbing against his, and there was not a single inch of space between the two of you. “S-Stop... this, you... Y-You witch..!”

His eyes widened as soon as you stepped into him further. You were just getting as intimate as could be. Your thighs and hips were rubbing against him. And it was making him... He was literally drooling now. Frollo was speechless. And he literally was making a mess out of himself. Like... He looked like a fool! One of the most dangerous people in the country, was... drooling... His mouth was open slightly, looking like he was going to say something. But instead, he closed his mouth shut again, and looked almost ashamed. As if he had been caught doing something humiliating.

Your eyes just lit up at the sight while you showed off your teeth with a shit-eating grin, confirming how amused you were by the situation. You tried making yourself even taller than before, as if trying to take away his confidence height-wise as well. You were having this heart-to-heart exchange with him face to face. Your face now literal millimetres away from his, intimidating.

But then you did something that caught him off guard, as you licked off the saliva that was dribbling down his mouth. Your tongue firstly stroking his spit-covered chin before seductively brushing it up to the crook of his mouth where the running drool started. But your tongue quickly wandered to his upper lip, sending a shock right through his veins. Your warm and sweet tongue began teasingly brushing left and right over the entrance of his lips, attempting to pry them open for a good three seconds before pulling back. You glanced at him right in the eye again, a cheeky glint in your eyes. “Aww, you poor man~ He almost spilled..~ Are you actually gonna soil yourself in front of me?” you purred with a tease.

As soon as you started licking the drool off of his lips, He got an electrical shock. A wave of pure nervousness and tingles running down his veins. The blush on his cheeks was getting redder, and you could hear his heartbeat. The saliva that was dropped, got licked up by you. You were staring at him so seductively. A warm, sweet feeling, of just pure ecstasy was flowing through his body.

And the way you were so close to him. You really were an actual princess. Or the queen of sin, rather. He looked like he was about to just collapse. Frollo... His wide eyes were now looking at your lips when you pulled back, and you could see the desire in them. And when you licked the saliva from his lips... He almost- almost let out a moan. He was literally about to melt away.

The priest's entire face flushed a deep, deep red. His blush was... it was so obvious to you, along with the fact that he was salivating at this. But the fact that you licked it off...? You could practically see his entire world begin to break down, right after that. You didn't just break his walls down. You obliterated them. He didn't know what to say. You were just... Ah, God. so, so cruel.

The way you did just that. The way you licked it. It was... Oh, heavens. You would be an absolute demon in bed. He blinked, shaking his head and basically still drooling all over himself. Damn it. What in the world.

“You... You b-bitc-... Yo-... wh-” He couldn't get a word out. He was too stunned. All of the blood in his body seemed to be rushing down to his cheeks at once. And he could feel a warm liquid start to soak into his undergarments. Yes. That thing, the thing that he desperately didn't want to get hard. He clenched his jaws shut, as he started to sweat. He didn't know how to react or respond. You were playing with him at this point. You could practically see the steam rising off of his head. And he could feel the liquid seeping into his cloth.

This whole situation was just mortifying to Frollo, both for his reputation and pride. He tried to take a step back, but he was getting too caught up in his own... reaction, to realize he had his back pressed against the wall in here. He could feel his breathing getting heavier. And just his reaction of shock was more than enough to keep you going, as your hand clung to the back of his neck, your fingertips digging into his flesh again. “I can’t help but wonder what other places are getting hot and moist for me” you purred with a mischievous chuckle, leaning in close to his face once again.

“I recommend you stay in line” you murmured with a sense of warning as you took his bottom lip between your teeth, the tip of your canine pressing into it. Your hot and damp tongue came in contact with it as you pressed it against his parted lips, teasingly tracing it against the entrance of his lips but never actually going inside his mouth... Smearing your saliva over the base of his lips, while you seductively sucked his bottom lip, just watching how long he could keep it up before losing his sense of self control

His body was quaking. His frame was like a leaf in the wind. He was being absolutely manhandled. The way you nibbled his lip, you were making his legs go weak. There were no words. There were just... sounds. Sounds coming from his throat, as the heat and moisture inside him really began to build up. The way you continued to use your tongue. The way you continued to play with his lip like a cat with a ball of yarn. It felt like this was never going to end. And he... his moans. You could hear his voice. Those soft moans, that were only for you to hear. He was losing focus, and he did not care. His body getting wet. And it was all your fault. You were doing this to him. You were teasing him, playing with him like a puppeteer.

His lips were now opening up for you. His mouth inviting. Something which made your eyes darken with glee as you got the ultimate invitation from him. Not hesitating for any second thoughts. Your tongue slowly wandered in and began brushing against his inner lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of having your tongue deep into the back of his mouth. You pressed it in further, going slightly deeper as you rubbed your tongue against his gum tissue. Before reaching the inferior labial frenulum, as you teasingly slid your tongue over it. And that... that was an especially loud moan, coming from a person like Frollo, who's usually calculated and reserved. Reserved on that level, as it was clear he was enjoying this right now.

He was being completely seduced and he didn't care. His vocal groans were beginning to fill the room. The way your tongue was exploring his mouth... It was sending shivers down his spine. His eyes widening as he felt himself start to become damp. Your hand, wrapped around the back of his neck with your fingers pressing into his flesh. He liked how you were being so rough and so dominating at the moment. But your comment, about his other... moistened areas. He felt a hot liquid rushing through his body as he thought about it, as if he was being cooked alive.

He was just completely, utterly, and miserably lost in you. His eyes were staring at yours, with that warm glaze of lustful desire. And he was letting his inner demons play with his soul. They weren't being suppressed anymore. They were getting out, completely free. He was struggling to keep himself from just giving into you. He was almost tempted to just... get on the bed, and invite you on top of him. His lips were now completely split apart. His mouth was inviting you to go in deeper. To do whatever you pleased. The tip of his tongue was inviting you. And you could practically taste his wet tongue. His breath was starting to falter. The way you rubbed against his gums, the movement was so perfect and experienced. Frollo's entire body felt hot and wet. And it was making him want more. So much more.....

You could definitely tell he was getting desperate. His tongue eagerly and impatiently begging for it to intertwine with yours. He wanted your tongue at the back of his throat... And feeling eager, he desperately began to lick at you, desperate to taste you. And wanting to feed into that desperation, you began moving your tongue up and down, making the tip of his tongue rub over yours. Right before your tongue began wandering, slipping it flat on top of his. You slowly began pressing your tongue to the back of his throat, using his tongue as a guide as you slid it down to his tonsils, rubbing them. Sometimes pulling back for just a few seconds before teasingly sliding it down again, keeping him needy for more.

He was practically begging for it by now. His mouth was literally begging for your tongue to get deeper. But you were just teasing him so hard, and that's what was making this so hot. The way your tongue was moving, it was like a damn tongue dance. And you were playing the damn instrument that was his mouth perfectly. Teasing his tongue, nibbing at it and just being absolutely filthy with him. His mouth was just yours now.

You were literally eating him, was the only thing Frollo could think. He couldn't help but groan out as soon as your tongue went deeper inside his mouth, sliding alongside his own tongue. Your warm, wet tongue was rubbing against the sensitive skin in there, and you were teasing his mouth. You were making him melt. You were... making him weak. His neck and back started to arch involuntarily. The way you slid it down his throat as it touched his tonsils... The priest's body was starting to jerk. His eyes went blank, as he let out moans and gasps. It felt like you were controlling his mind and body, and that only made him feel even more desperate and in need of you.

Frollo was in a trance, practically. You were just so tempting. So delicious. His voice was turning into pure moans as he opened his mouth, letting out the sound of a beg. It was as if he was trying to say he wanted it. That this was what he wanted. His jaw was opened, his hands were hanging limp besides his body, behaving so submissively. The minister, who had been feared by everybody around him, was just completely done for.

You pulled back for a bit, as he moaned out in relief. A string of saliva now connecting your tongue with his mouth. “Don't go rabid on me now. You've been wanting this for a long, long time, hmm?” you teased him as one of your hands travelled towards his chin, before you started pressing your thumb into his mouth. You pressed your finger on his tongue, sliding it further to the back of his throat, threatening to make him gag if he disobeyed and forcing his jaw open even further. “Be a big boy and open up wide for me..~” you purred with a sadistic giggle, tempting him by sticking out your tongue.

There was no way out of this. His expression now completely rearranged from frustrated, to a look which was flaring with excitement. He was literally sweating. In one move, you had basically turned him from an egotistical man, into your own personal toy at your disposal. You owned him. Even when he got some of his control back when you moved your mouth away from him, he didn't wanna stop what you were doing. He was just hopelessly addicted to you, His brain was you. Nothing BUT you.

“You're playing under my rules now, minister.”

And he was just another piece of your collection to satisfy your needs.

#disney #disney x reader #disney villains #disney villains x reader #claude frollo #frollo #claude frollo x reader #frollo x reader #disney imagines #disney smut #the hunchback of notre dame #the hunchback of notre dame x reader

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fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Text

On her back

Male Reader x Bae Joohyun

Length: 2958 words

Tags: Daddy kink, Master kink, breeding kink, literal breeding, like impregnation, rough sex, mating press (for literal, REAL mating), from loving to degradation, emotional manipulation, teasing, overstimulation, multiple creampies, spitting, toxic relationships

TW: rough impregnation, emotional manipulation, the usual "On her" stuff

Inspiration/Credit: not possible without @sooyadelicacies, my great co-writer and inspirator

(A/N: Reminder that OC is an asshole and that this is fiction. Anyways, rough daddy kink breeding sex, yay. Enjoy a subby!Irene lol. Btw, it's been more than a year since Part 1 came out!)

“I’m here if you need a break from all these youngsters xoxo”

You are alone in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz, quietly sipping on a cool, refreshing beverage with your airpods in. You need to destress and know just the person to see. You put your drink down and begin to close your eyes, settling in for a quick nap before you arrive at your destination.

Maybe it was only a few minutes, maybe it was much longer than that, but you feel the car stop and you begin to wake.

"We have arrived, sir."

Looking out, you find a beautiful secluded home surrounded by lush greenery. One of your many getaways.

"Thank you, as always," you say politely as the door opens up for you and you're handed your luggage. You stroll up to the door and put in the passcode as well as the biometric scan of your fingerprint. But before you turn the knob, the door already opens and you are greeted by a stunning beauty.

"Irene," you say simply.

"Hello, my love."

"It's been a while," you add, a sigh on your lips, but you keep it down.

"It really has," the small woman responds, hands fidgeting on her sides as she just stands there, her boundless beauty that will persist for decades to come filling the air like the strong, vibrant smell of ripe fruits.

"God, you're so fucking pretty."

This time, the sigh is at least palpable in the aftermath of your words when your arms reach out to her. Joohyun tenses up for a seconds before your embrace reaches her, caresses her back and finds rest on her butt. With ease, you pick the petite idol up and Joohyun's legs instinctively wrap around you.

You kiss her gently, lovingly. "Still tensing up? I thought I trained it out of you?" you tease.

She blushes. "It's been a long time, Ma—"

"Shh, not yet. There will be time for that. I need my lover right now, not my toy."

A soft smile on her face. One in a million, quite literally: days and weeks and months go by where she can never feel like this around someone else. They all make her put on the cold, reserved, distant smile, but with you finally by her side, she melts.

At least the temperature of her palms cupping your face is able to melt ice in seconds. Joohyun leans close to you and presses her lips on yours, her passion coming over you in a quiet explosion. A tad bit quicker, a little more tongue when she parts your lips, now you pull her in closer.

"God, I've missed this," she coos and you brush away her astray hair.

"I have been busy... the young ones are quite—"

"Difficult? Always have been. Think of me back then."

You can't help but smile at the memories, though they also make your cock twitch against its cotton prison. Joohyun giggles. She must feel it poking her exposed midriff.

"Those were fun times, but you know I'm still as tight as ever, only with more experience now. I promise I'll take away all of your stress today."

"I know you will. That's why you know of this place. It's a short list, Irene."

She smiles happily and melts her lips into yours once more.

With her secured around you, you wander off, straight to the bedroom, careful not to bump into anything on your way. There are easily a hundred idols you'd just violently throw onto a bed like this and then destroy their tight pussies, but with Joohyun you remain careful for now. Lay her down on it, never disconnecting your lips.

Joohyun starts to undress immediately and instead of following suit, you decide to watch her. Many months ago was the last time you've seen her bare body—at least in real life, up close. There are dozens of videos you've filmed with her and she even sent nudes last month, a rarity for the outwardly timid idol.

"You're skin," you groan and reach for her bare tummy, then breasts. "Still porcelain, still smooth and perfect."

"Th-thank you. I made sure it's perfect, just for you."

"Not for the fans, not for the members? Not for your own self-gratification?"

"Only for you, my Master."

There she goes.

"Music to my ears. Hearing such obedience. It's rare to find that nowadays, I wonder if my methods are getting stale?"

You muse, but she knew it was your way of asking for her opinion, her advice. Bae Joohyun was an intelligent woman and admirable leader after all, and she knew all the tricks in the outside idol world and in your bedroom.

"Are you concerned about the outcome, even with all your leverage? Or is it getting too boring for you?" Before Joohyun can continue, you rub in between her legs, over her modest panties to find a little bit of wetness there. Joohyun opens her mouth; no moan, no breath, she just sinks into the sheets. "I-I just don't see the problem."

"They are just so damn cocky and continue to be. Disobedience, arrogance, self-centeredness, it's all running rampant nowadays."

"We weren't any better back then."

Press a finger onto her pussy lips, the fabric disappearing a bit into the increasingly aroused hole.

"Oh, you think so?"

"Ye-yes, Master. Suzy, IU, Jennie, even I—we were all a lot of trouble for you. I remember the reeducation training with Jessica and Nana. Maybe some things never change—ah, fuck."

Joohyun moans when your tongue trails along the side of her body, up to her collarbone where you place kisses. She is now trapped underneath you and with all your experience and ease, you join her in her (almost) nude state.

Instead of your finger you place a knee on Joohyun's covered heat and she instinctively grinds on it and loses herself in needy, desperate, good girl whines. She starts to pout and you rake your fingers through her hair like—

"Like in good old times." Your deep groan fills Joohyun with love.

"Yes, Master."

"You know how to grind on this knee. You know how to make yourself look submissive. You know how to combust into nothing but bliss when I just command you too.

"Don't you, Irene?"

"Y-yes, Master! You're so good to me."

Joohyun hesitates and whimpers for a moment, looking at you.

"Master… call me Joohyun please. Irene is for everybody else, but I am Joohyun and I am yours, my Master. Your whore, your slave."

The shortlist came with perks. She could make such requests of you.

"Jennie was one of the worst, but she is one of my biggest sluts, so I guess it only makes sense." You think out loud.

"Joohyun, is it true Red Velvet will have their last comeback soon?"

She can only nod and hum.

"I'll have to fuck you after then too… to breed you."

Her eyes widen and you feel a great dampness in her folds.

"Master, it will finally be my turn?"

"We've discussed this before."

"I-I know… but I said you could breed me before then. You know I would give up my career for you, Master. I only wish to be your cumdump."

There she goes, melting into a shape you have foreseen years ago. Of course she has been ready for it, but the time is right right now.

"Good girl."

You pull aside her panties and give her pussy lips tiny smacks. Joohyun starts to mewl and whimper in this perfect pitch, the pitch only your hand can make her reach.

"M-Master, hng!"

"This hole is ready to be bred." Indeed, you find it to be exceptional compared to even to your best youngsters, perfect, especially the wetness is extraordinary. "Now spread your legs and tell me how much you need it."

"Master, I've needed it since I underwent your training. I didn't allow any man to touch me but you, Master. I am pure. I-I stopped any form of contraceptive. I've been waiting. I'm ready to walk away from being an idol because all I want is you, Master. I see comments online, I know people call me Mommy because of my age and looks, but the only Mommy I want to be is for your child, Master. Breed me please. I am your good girl. I always have been. This whore, this slut, needs her Master to complete my training, to make me your breeding bitch."

You deem these words to be enough, excessive even. There was no need for all of them to be said out loud, you could clearly see it in her eyes, the wanton desire for your cock creaming inside her. Some people might call it cruel to her, but the last person to call it cruel is Joohyun herself.

You penetrate her gracefully, something she has not experienced ever. There was always a need to destroy her pussy; after all, Joohyun was once a defiant bitch. Nothing of this is left as she ecstatically welcomes you inside, dopamine flushing her brain, passion in the way she moans, laughs when you bottom out.

"Daddy!"

"Squeeze tight, Joohyun. I need you to make me cum as often as you can and keep it all down, so you better be the tightest girl ever tonight."

"I'm Daddy's tight girl, just breed me and I'll not lose any of your seed."

"Stick your tongue out."

Joohyun does as told and you let some of your saliva spill out onto your tongue before it oozes down to her. You always found her cock drunk expression thrilling, this one probably being its greatest form when you start to thrust into her as she still tries to catch your gift.

She pouts, as your saliva misses her just a bit and drips on her body.

"If they saw you now—Irene, everyone's ice queen—reduced to nothing but my personal whore, a Daddy and Master kink too? Some people think you're a bitch in how you behave and treat others. They are right in a way, aren't they darling?

“You are my bitch.”

"Ma-Master, you are right," Joohyun moans, her response interrupted by ragged breaths. "I-I'm your bitch, a bitch in heat. Do-do you like the hot pussy of this ice slave?"

Has she always been this humorous? A circle around her clit, just a rub, and her eyes are wide open. Joohyun looks so different in bed, a different kind of gorgeous from her stage presence during songs with the velvet-concept. You appreciate both, but this is clearly your favorite.

"Good that it's still tight," you groan and pound her harder. "I bottomed out a thousand times and still your grip is... fuck."

"Yes, Master, please praise my pussy more!"

"Isn't this enough praise, bitch?" you say in rhythm to slower but significantly harder thrust, the type to make inexperienced girls limp and screaming. Not Joohyun, she takes it well, though her voice still breaks at the rough pleasure forced upon her needy sex.

Joohyun stretches her arms out, holds onto the frame of the bed while you force her feet further apart and higher in the air. She looks stupid, an embarrassing position for an idol of her class to be in.

"Yes, Master!" she suddenly howls when your finger presses into the flesh of her thighs. "I don't want to dance anymore, make me unable to dance!"

"When I'm fucking done with you, don't even think about getting out of bed." You lean down to her sweaty, burning face and nibble at her jaw. "Don't move on your own before I've filled your entire womb!"

"Yes, Master.” Joohyun struggles to catch her breath, her words somewhere up in the air along with your face deliberately drooling down on her. “It's time isn't it? Please make me pregnant. I've been waiting for so long, Master, I've been patient and good—"

"In due time, Joohyun, but you will take it all the way in your womb until you're dripping and spilling seed everywhere. One day.” Your promise is sincere, partially because Joohyun’s rippling pussy has your voice a bit strained. Rejecting her would be pointless, really, her pussy could just will you in and if she’s really not taking contraceptives—

“I've heard your contracts are up in the air. Are you really going to throw it all away for your Master?"

Joohyun puckers her lips for you to kiss, barely able to squeeze out words through them and her forced out moans.

"Yes, M-Master! I don't care about the contracts, I only want your child."

"Then show me that cute little face," you say, teasingly leaning down to her lips searching for yours but not getting them. "The one you make when you cum on my cock like the good slut I trained you to be."

Joohyun is almost at that point of peak devotion, where she can almost will herself to an orgasm just from your command, but it's still too many almosts. You still have to lay a hand on her clit, the other on her waist and move both your hips and hands in quick, stimulating fashion until Joohyun squeaks like it's her first time in your bedroom.

The night you tamed her, many, many moons ago, was a great achievement, because you know she would still be drop dead gorgeous when you decide to do this to her. Without giving Joohyun any signs of your imminent orgasm, you cream her the moment the pleasure over takes her.

Her cute expression of bliss and submission to your superior frame is flooded with ecstasy and pride when you flood her cavern and womb with a thick load that is meant to stick inside her and eventually form a baby. Joohyun frantically holds onto your arms stabilizing her ever twitching body, her glassy eyes looking at you in reverence and servility.

"Th-thank you, Master," she whispers, her face and chest flushed with happiness, both a bit puffed from pride and soreness as her walls still milk you. "It feels so warm."

"I know what you're feeling," you coo into her ear and feel her burn up even more. "Finally, no condom, no contraceptive, nothing blocking my seed from blooming in your tight tummy. Every orgasm before this pales in comparison, because this one was real.

"So I'm giving you more."

"Ma-Master, I don't deserv—ahh!"

You put every vampire to shame when you furiously bite down on a pale sweet spot between Joohyun's neck and shoulder. Unlike vampires however, the faint taste of blood pulls you back to reality, that it's better to just fuck Joohyun's cum-filled cunt deeper than getting your teeth into her deeper. Nonetheless, the euphoric girl has both arms around you and tightly clings to you.

"Ma-Master," she cries out. "I ca-can't take it any-anymore."

"Don't care," you growl, empathy foreign to you. "I don't care if your pretty feet or legs or hips go numb. You'll take my cock until I want to stop."

You glare at her, eyelids hiding sniveling, tears begging for mercy as once again, overstimulation breaks her. What a weakness to still have. It’s part of Joohyun, sure, but you thought she would’ve grown past it, especially for this moment.

"You wanted this Joohyun. You wanted Master to breed you. You begged for it, don't you fucking bitch to me now. Did I make a mistake in choosing you? Are you really ready to give up your idol career if you can't handle me like this?"

Every word sliced into her. It's been ages since you broke her down like this, not just physically and sexually, but verbally. It was like she was your trainee all over again, a dominant, crushing hand on her throat, an unrelenting pelvis crashing down on hers.

"I will fuck you for however long I want..."

You pause for a moment and choke her even harder.

"Suzy can take it. Why can't you?"

"I can, Daddy!” Joohyun screams, finally fighting for herself against herself. “Make me a baby mommy, don't listen to my stupid mouth. You, you own this pussy!"

Feel Joohyun's pussy struggle to take all the cock and cum when you fold her to a painful degree and watch her face become just a canvas for tears. It's also red, like her bleeding shoulder or her round butt which you spank over and over again, red like her sore pussy lips or her insides.

"Good thing that you're still tight," you scold Joohyun and spit at her face. "At least your pussy is trying to make your real dream come true."

"Master, I'm cumming."

"Shut up. I don’t care. Put your own fingers around your throat. Spread your pussy lips. Look at me, while I destroy you.

"While I end your career, Irene."

A second load, pumped and mixed into the first and ultimately overflowing from Joohyun's gaping hole. The moment you pull out, she knows that this will be it. She is going to be pregnant, no way around it.

You gently cup her face, look at an expression of bewilderment, hurt, happiness, sadness, pain, confusion. Not the first time that you've destroyed a young woman like this while making her pregnant. A kiss to ease the pain a bit, she thinks, but it's just a set up for a reality check.

"I'm a bit disappointed," you tell her. "I needed your full devotion, but it seems you have forgotten how to take a second load.

"That said, I don't regret it. You're beautiful and ready. I think your group deserves one more comeback, then you can tell them what happened."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"You can stop choking yourself, by the way."

"Yes, Daddy. I-I love you."

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #male reader smut #red velvet smut #irene smut #bae joohyun smut #joohyun smut #red velvet irene smut

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davosmymaster · 2 years ago

Text

No Time To Die

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no explicit smut but sexual themes, whump, a lot of angst, blood, graphic wounds and procedures (?) probably not medically accurate, could be almost gore if you squint, hurt/comfort, two dorks in love, canon-typical violence, near-death experiences. Not based on the game, I don’t know anything about the game and I don’t want spoilers please.

PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 9.6k.

SUMMARY - The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

A/N - I honestly don’t know what this is. I tried to look for angsty and whumpy fics and couldn’t find any that hit the spot just right; so I wrote my own. This story is set in some time between 2010 and 2020, or so. Bill and Frank are still very much alive. The only warning apart the amount of blood in this, it’s my own knowledge of the English language.

'Breathe'

With a shiver, you try to comply with your own command. The action itself confuses you, and you don't know where exactly in your mind that thought came from; or why. All you know is that a moment ago you were nothing, absolutely nothing, not even human. You forgot your own existence in a still ocean made of black thick ink. The ink is now backtracking, though, but the remnants of it stay in your foggy mind, clouding it as your consciousness comes back in waves.

Waking up from a dream is easy, you just come back into yourself from a nice trip to your own imagination. Regaining consciousness, however, is a little more difficult. Instead of going somewhere, you go inwards into yourself. Your overworked mind, already tired and busy with keeping you alive, doesn't care much about bringing you to any other place so you can die peacefully. No. And the awakening is not as it should be either.

Coming back into yourself is your body crawling its way to the land of the living, with your flesh drenched in tears, blood and sweat; and nails digging firmly into the dirt. At least that's how it feels as you go back and forth between the two worlds, rocked violently by the waves threatening to drown you in its heavy never-ending dream.

You wake up tired, and cold. The first sense that returns is touch; and with it, a pulsing pain radiates from under the right side of your collarbone and all the way down to your chest and back. The —obvious— wound is warmer than the rest of your body. It's like you've grown a second heart right at the borders of the wound; it throbs relentlessly. The second is taste. Your mouth tastes like salt and melted butter; despite not having eaten either in at least three days. Around the dryness of your tongue you feel a sticky liquid swirling around in your mouth, plastered to your gums.

Whatever it is, you cough it out of your mouth. The old blackened blood splatters on the wooden planks below your mouth. Then, a second later, you feel a sprawled hand on your back; and the rest of your consciousness returns with it.

He calls your name. And he, whose presence you'd have recognized even blindfolded, even miles away from there, doesn't appear in your mind for a few seconds. But even half-conscious and at death's gates, his name leaves your mouth with a sigh of relief.

Joel.

"I'm here," he says, his palm now pressing a bit harder into your back, trying to comfort you somehow. If you had been fully aware, you'd have been embarrassed at the relieved groan that had escaped your lips while saying his name. "How are you feeling?"

His voice sounds less muffled now, but the pulsing pain intensifies the closer you are to the surface. A second groan escapes your mouth as the warmth under your collarbone becomes impossible to ignore.

"I know, I know" he says.

Your eyes flutter open. From your point of view there's not much to see except torn wallpaper, your blood stains, and the shadow of a window. You're on the floor, your cheek pressed against the dusty carpet, your body very still laying on them, and Joel rubbing your back.

The room is dark. His fingers enter your field of vision, they dip on the wet blood stains and turn around so Joel can see the sticky fluid staining his fingers. He takes a breath, a gasp, really.

"Goddamnit," he mutters under his breath. His hand stops rubbing your back, and as black stains crawl from the corners of your vision, trying to take you under the waves again, he talks to you:

"I need to turn you around..." he says with a gentle voice. It's like the icing on top of a sour and burnt cake; he's trying to sound caring, but that doesn't change the fact that it's going to hurt like a bitch. "You hear me?" he says, and his voice breaks for a second. Your ears ring, the next thing he says your brain doesn't process it, your vision has been clouded by darkness again...

A scream tores your throat as a shooting pain lights your body on fire. It feels like lightning going through your backbone. Suddenly, the waves are very far away and you're feeling way too conscious for your liking. Despite your pain, Joel is still as careful as he can as he lays you on the floor, now facing the ceiling instead.

The throbbing pain continues, and you blink to get rid of the tears that distort Joel's face. His hand wipes the tears from your face.

"I know," he says. He has a crease between his seemingly angry eyebrows that you had never seen before.

Both hands are roaming your ribs now, before you can even say anything. His warm hands give you shivers as he touches your naked skin. The pain is so unbearable that all you can do to mitigate it is hold your breath. If you could move, you'd be right now curled on the floor like a pretzel. You are not crying anymore, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't close.

"Can you breathe?" he asks then, when he doesn't find any cracks in your ribs by touch alone. You don't respond because you can't find your own voice, and he sounds desperate at this point. "You coughed blood, I need to know if any of your lungs are collapsing."

"It-it hurts..." you wheeze, your eyes tightly shut. For a split second, you wish you were back to being nothing. Being nothing sounds way better than having a gunshot wound in your chest. The bandages, tight over your bones and shoulder, don't mitigate the pain either. If anything, they worsen it. It feels like a tight sock over a painful pustule on your heel.

Worst part is you know all this pain is for nothing; you know you won't make it. If you go back to the QZ, you will be executed. If not, there's nobody to help you except Joel. But even if there were doctors or hospitals, you highly doubted you could find the necessary tools to extract a bullet and stitch the wound. That is, if you manage not to die of blood loss.

"Where?" Joel asks. Even beyond all this concern and well-hidden panic, he seems to cling to an ounce of hope. "Tell me where it hurts."

Your fingers gently trace your skin until they reach the area under your collarbone, and you sign to your back too. There's a bandage there, but nothing else, and that's when you notice you don't have a shirt on, just your blood-soaked bra.

"Is it bad?"

"Not that bad. The bullet went through," he said. That explains the pain on both sides of your body; you have a literal hole in your chest. "And it clotted soon enough to stop the bleeding, but you lost too much blood anyway... Anywhere else?"

Your whole body hurts and this abandoned house suddenly feels like penance, but you don't want to scare him further, so you shake your head no very slowly.

"Alright," he mumbles. Joel nods once, and it looks like he is reassuring himself. His eyes betray him, he looks like he is very far away from here, very buried under all the scenes playing on his mind; but despite his stillness, his lower lip quivers.

You can't move your right arm at all, but with the other hand, your fingers lightly touch his knuckles still resting on your stomach. He winces, and your fingers are wet with his blood too. He must have beaten to death whoever shot you, that you are certain about.

Your voice, little more than a weak breath, whispers:

"I-I want you to do it."

The crease between his eyebrows deepens. He seems confused rather than angry; the reaction you were hoping for. You take a breath to repeat your own words, but he squeezes your hand.

"Don't," he says.

"Joel..."

"Don't even think about it," he snarls. "You are perfectly fine, don't be dramatic."

You don't know what hurts more; his pain or yours, but his denial makes your eyes wet with tears again. This is already hard, but he is making it even harder. All he will achieve by trying to keep you alive is either prolonging his pain or getting himself killed. You both know this is no world for the injured and the sick, not out of the QZ, at least. And in most cases, not inside either.

All you ask of him is to not leave you for the infected to find. Is that too much to ask?

You want to insist, but you know he won't have it. Joel has lost so much already that the thought of losing what little left he has is not even going to cross his mind. Not until it's too late, at least. Also, you don't want your last moments with him to be a fight. You are tired of fighting, of swimming against the current. You just want to let go for once, give in to the external forces, close your eyes and peacefully breathe.

What's more, you should have already known that he wouldn't do you that favor. He is too selfish for that.

He pats your cheeks gently with his large hands, and your eyes, already rolling back into your skull, get focused on him again with a few blinks. You breathe slowly, trying to focus on him, on the world around you slowly twisting and turning.

"...that's it," he says, it doesn't sound like his first sentence, so you guess he's been talking to you before. When you look back at him, his breathing is shallow, and you know he is trying to take a hold of himself too, trying not to give in to panic. "Good girl, that's it. Keep your eyes on me."

Exhausted and hurting as you are, keeping your eyes open it's like asking you not to drop a weight that you cannot, in fact, handle; but you try nonetheless. It's your fault, really, for letting yourself go, for trying to give up on your fight earlier than you should. Joel is here trying to keep you alive, mending all your broken ends and stitching them together —he has always been good at that— while you're just trying to give up on him —you are really good at that too—.

Giving up on Joel has been one of the hardest things you've ever had to do; and now you're letting him go for the last time. Part of you is glad you don't have to keep watching how he chooses Theresa over and over again. You are even relieved that fate —or whatever there is out there— is forcing you out of the equation. After all, you would never have given up fully on him.

He refuses to kill you, what he doesn't know is that you've been dead for a long while now. Him being your executioner would be the kindest act he could have with you, the most intimate thing you'd ever share; your last moments. You want it to be him, you want him to free you from this torment.

He refuses, though; and it feels like a punch to the pit of your stomach. You shiver.

He gets up from his place on the floor, where you are lying just over the carpet. You follow him with your eyes and see a fire cracking up in a fucked-up chimney. He stokes the fire, throws some more wood on it and then comes back to you, covering you with his jacket, the very same jacket you had on before he turned you around. It's warm, his, and you have to stop yourself from sinking your nose into the collar.

"I had to take off your shirt to patch you up," he says, but he doesn't say sorry. Ever. So you guess it's his way of apologizing.

You simply nod, aware that you had wished for this very moment to happen many times before. You had dreamt of his rough hands over your naked flesh, caressing the sides of your body. You had dreamt of him watching you with those chocolate eyes as you took your shirt off, deep black pupils spreading over the brown as he watched the lace fall like a helpless witness.

But now the bra was covered in blood and he was watching you anywhere but the lace. He had a frightened and concerned look on his face, rather than aroused. A look that would have made you feel guilty and ashamed if it had happened in the other scenario. And instead of undressing you, he was covering your body with his jacket as if you were his child.

"What's wrong?" he is asking now, instead of whispering 'I want you' and it hurts all the same to know he's not ever going to say it, and that Tess now will have all those words for however long their lives are.

You guess they were made for each other. And it makes all the sense, really, no one like Joel would ever look at you twice. You were grateful that he even allowed you to be his friend.

"Nothing," you respond.

It's always 'nothing' when it comes to Joel. It's always that nothing whenever he notices you are under the weather. It's always nothing when you are hurt, when someone tries to rob you and they leave an angry black eye on your face. It's always nothing; and he never believes you.

"I don't make promises, you know that," he says, taking your left hand in his. "but you will be fine, I swear."

You don't know what to say, how to explain that you are not scared of death, that you are just scared of not seeing him again. But you can't, so you say nothing and just nod.

Does he want to hurt himself? Okay. You can't do much while lying on the floor anyway.

After that, both of you stay silent. Joel seems to be avoiding looking at you. His eyes are stuck in the fire creaking in the chimney, but they are too restless to be present and conscious of the yellow and orange haze.

Your palm lands on his thigh, your fingers gently brushing the denim. You want to comfort him somehow, but, at the same time, you are scared he will reject your touch and reassurance. That's all you can do for him: no words, no further touching, just a featherlight touch that indicates you are still present. There, with him.

"I thought we couldn't make a fire."

"Don't be dumb. The windows are all broken, it's winter and you are in shock. How else would you heat up?"

"Got it. You're not in a talking mood," you huff. "Alright."

Silence settles between both of you. However, one of his big, rough hands travels to where your fingertips are gently brushing his thigh. At the touch, even if you don't want to let go, your fingers begin to back off. He's not in a good mood, and you seem to be pushing his boundaries a little too much. Except that, instead of letting you go, he catches your hand in his and puts it back over his jean. This time, it's him who brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

For a minute, the only sound in the living room are both your breathing patterns, the flames licking the air and the wind rushing through the broken windows.

"I'm sorry..." you start. And immediately, his brown eyes are all over you again. Your voice sounds exhausted, more than you'd have liked. "...I fucked up the mission. I know-"

"You haven't fucked up anything," he interrupts. That's Joel, all stoic, swallowing his feelings and denying everything that it is not up to his standards. "Would you mind to just rest-"

Your eyes well with tears.

"Joel, for once... Just for once, don't lecture me, don't ignore what I'm trying to say just because you don't want to hear it," you tell him. Then, he thankfully presses his lips together in a pained grimace, but stays silent nonetheless. "I fucked up the mission getting injured. I know it isn't my fault, but it doesn't matter whose fault it is. If you wanna go on without me, I won't blame you."

His fingers are now squeezing yours, but you know he is not even conscious of that. He leans in a little, his cheeks now reddened in anger. He looks like he is about to spit on your face.

"I'm not leaving you anywhere," he says. He looks offended that you even thought he was capable of that. "You and I are gonna get to Lincoln, either if you like it or not. There, Bill and Frank will help you. We have traded all kinds of things with them, and I know they are very well supplied."

"Why would they help me?"

"They are not just people we trade with," he says. His fingertips brush a strand of hair out of your face. "I know they will."

"What if they changed their minds?"

His pupils lock into your own, his jawline swells as he grits his teeth.

"I'm persistent."

The mission was supposed to be an easy one. Walk out of the QZ undetected, walk fifteen miles to the town of Lincoln, just outside Boston, get our things and come back. Our cargo were the two last spools of aluminum that Joel had promised to trade with them and two packets of seeds. Theirs? Two pounds of rolling tobacco and a gun. Tess couldn't make it, she had appointments with other smugglers, probably the ones who snuck the drugs in; which was more than half of their business. If it wasn't that important, she wouldn't have stayed in the QZ for anything in the world. But Bill and Frank were also important, and Joel couldn't go alone.

The two of you should be home by now, and you wondered if Tess was regretting her decision of asking you to go with him. Last night you had both snuck out of the Boston QZ; and it usually didn't take more than six hours to get to Lincoln. But just outside the city you had bumped into raiders; and a stray bullet had hit you. Now you were stranded in a small cabin lost in the woods, about seven miles away from Lincoln; and unable to walk a single step.

And to top it all off, Joel was enraged and neurotic.

Still with the same expression, he takes your wrist and squeezes two fingers into it. Even if you had preferred him not to, knowing that your heartbeat got wild whenever he was around. You let him check on you, hoping that if your symptoms got better he would let you have a quick nap. Your nervousness, however, doesn't improve despite your efforts of trying to calm yourself down.

"Since when are you a doctor?"

He lets your wrist go, then gets back on his feet and gets his rifle.

"You should rest. You'lll need it," he says, now heading to the entrance. He's gonna be standing on guard all night, you are sure of that. "We're leaving tomorrow morning."

That is when you lose it. You can't believe he is that blind, that caught up in his own world.

"I know in your perfect fantasy this is just a scratch, but I truly can't move, Joel. Even laying here awake is hard. How am I supposed to follow...? Joel!"

But he's out of the house before you even finish the sentence.

[***]

Joel doesn't keep his word.

A few hours later, not even near dawn yet, you get pulled back from a dream. Your eyes take a few minutes to register your surroundings; again. And the memories gallop back to your mind in a rush; accompanied by the burning and piercing pain on the upper right side of your chest. Your eyes shut tight, and you inhale a shallow breath. Even breathing hurts.

"We need to go," Joel whispers. His voice sounds muffled, especially over the sound of your beating heart. "C'mon, wake up."

He is once again rocking you rather than shaking you awake. Just to be able to fall asleep you had rolled back into your chest, cheek once again firmly pressed against that twenty-year-old dusty carpet. When he came back from checking the perimeter, not even five minutes after your argument, he placed his backpack right under your stomach so your right side was elevated. You wouldn't have been able to fall asleep if it wasn't for that. The pain was maddening, atrociously painful. Joel had found you gritting your teeth even in your sleep.

He had said you'd leave the next day, but you felt like not even minutes had passed.

"Morning," you complained, half a grunt accompanying your words. Joel shook you gently again when he saw you relax a second time, and your voice came back. "Y-you said...mor-"

"I know what I said but we can't wait any longer," he answered. "I'm gonna sit you up."

Fear pumped enough adrenaline into your system to wake you up. The ache from before rushed back into your mind, and your 'please' and 'wait' left your mouth like a prayer.

"I can do it," you said, but it sounded more like begging than an affirmation.

"I know you can," he lied. As your eyes opened and you saw his expression —eyes focused on you, trembling hands, half of his face hidden in the shadows, the other half gently licked by the orange-like haze of the dying fire— you understood that you had to be in a really bad condition for him to look at you that way, and feel the need to lie to make you feel better. But then, a second right after that, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes fluttered between your face and the surface of his jacket over your shoulders. His stoic mask was back on. "I'm just gonna help you, okay? But you do it."

He did not, in fact, let you do it.

You had managed to lift yourself barely an inch over the carpet, using all the strength left in your healthy arm, when both his hands curled around your side and pulled you up to his chest. Clenching your jaw, you allowed him to drag you a few feet back and into a seating position against the wall; your whole weight over the left side of your body.

"Don't lean on the other side, your shoulder blade is broken."

"Oh..." you almost chuckled. "Great."

For a second, Joel looks at you as if you were completely insane. He reaches for his backpack, crouching on the place where you were lying just seconds prior. Then takes his flask and doubts when passing it on.

"I'm not that desperate for water," you respond, reaching for the flask and drinking a gulp of the liquid. You swallow despite the soreness in your throat. "Next thing you'll do is spit food into my mouth."

"Not even getting shot shuts your fucking mouth, does it?" he says, grossed out at your comment. However, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Relaxing him has a calming effect on you too.

You try to pass him the flask again, but he refuses.

"No," he says. "Drink it all. You'll need it."

You look at him with narrowed eyes, confused. It's hard to keep a single thought in your head other than the throbbing pain in your chest and back, but you still try. Rather than asking him how you are supposed to walk seven miles, with the aluminum and his pack, you try to approach the matter another way.

"What's the plan?"

He takes a deep breath.

"You're not gonna like it," he says, his deep voice almost slurring the words. It's barely a whisper. He looks into your eyes, then. "I'm gonna carry you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

There's not an ounce of doubt in his eyes. Joel has that look of determination, the one you only really see when he has his eyes set on something really fucking important for him; most times that includes his own brother or not talking about the times before the outbreak. And with that look on his face, you know there's nothing you could possibly say or do to make him reconsider his own words. He's stubborn like that.

You still try.

"It's seven miles, Joel..." you tell him on a thready voice, a whisper. And Joel sighs through his nose —as if he had forgotten. "And we have to carry..."

"We leave everything here," he says. "Come back for it later."

"They won't let us in empty-handed."

"You don't know them."

For Joel to be so certain about it, certain enough as to put both your life and his on the hands of strangers; you understand that their relationship goes beyond trading. Joel had told you about them, about their situation and the first time Tess and him had shared dinner with Bill and Frank. Still, you were suspicious of them, and you thought that he was too; up until now, at least.

"It's still seven miles," you tell him, and you know him, you know he's about to stop talking to you and leave the room if you don't, at least, partly give in to his reasoning. "...are you sure you wanna do it?"

His pleading brown eyes engulf you, then, with an emotion he had never showed before. His gaze diverts for a second to your wound, to the bandages that, as you look at them, you find they are once again covered in blood. They are soaked in it, the skin surrounding it has a large black bruise —internal bleeding, you guess. And when you try to take a full deep breath, you find yourself unable to, at least not at full capacity.

The understanding hits you, then. You don't have much time left.

"I don't have any other choice," Joel says, but what he means is 'I don't want to lose you'.

"Okay."

Not even a full second has passed from your reluctant acceptance, but he is already on his feet. Joel walks to the only table in the room, takes your gun and puts it in his hip, right inside the jean. The only other thing he takes apart from ammo is another set of bandages —and he silently thanks whatever it is out there that he put those there a month ago—. He doesn't have anything to clean the wound, though; and one of his biggest fears is that it might already be infected. Even bandaged it looks bad.

He approaches you, crouches down so he is facing the wound.

"I'm going to tighten the bandage, and I have to keep the pressure," he says, loosening the knot. His fingers are once again stained with you blood, and he has to fight the images of him pressing on your wound from a few hours ago, when he had found you and, with trembling hands, had tried to stop the bleeding coming out in waves. He looks at you, trying to forget the awful picture of your eyes closed, your body limp on the ground. "Bite something."

You reach for the sleeve of his jacket, the one hanging from your shoulders; and put the padded cuff of his jacket into your mouth.

Joel doesn't give you a warning; and you're not sure if that's a good or bad thing, either. He presses the heel of his hand right over the covered hole in your chest, with such strength that you wonder if he will end up breaking your clavicle in half. As he presses your body against the wall, you can almost feel the cracked bones in your back smashing against each other.

Needless to say, the pain is blinding. The view of the room, the feeling of his heat around you, the scent of him under your nose... all gone in a matter of seconds. Your vision turns white, all your senses stop functioning. Over the scream that falls from your lips, muffled by the jacket, you hear him say:

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He lets go, and your vision immediately darkens, the shadows flowing from the corners of the room quick to reach you. With your last grip on reality you feel yourself melting against the wall, slowly slipping to the side. Joel catches you before you hit the floor.

Cold water is what brings you back. Your breathing quickens at the coldness of it, and the next thing you feel are his wet hands palming your cheeks, throwing water from his flask all over your face.

"C'mon," he mumbles. "I need you awake."

Your eyes flutter open, your whole body relaxed now that he's not applying pressure; but alert enough that your unfocused eyes make a single shape out of him.

While coming back into yourself, Joel does not have any time to lose. He takes his jacket over your shoulders and slips your left arm inside the sleeve, the other, where the wound is, he decides to leave it as it is; and buttons it over your chest so you're not exposed.

"You good?"

In any other situation you'd have said some joke, or just something to piss him off. But as of right now, nothing comes to your clouded mind; and even if something did come, you're too exhausted to even do the mental effort to say it. So you just nod.

"Okay," he nods too, talking to himself inside his head, then takes your face in his hands and looks into your eyes. "You're fine, you hear me? I'm gonna carry you and you're gonna be on my back; so I need you talking all the damn time, alright?

You nod again.

"Starting now."

"Y-yes... okay."

"Good," he says. His hand crawls to the back of your neck, and he joins both your foreheads. He takes quick breaths. He's terrified when he whispers. "You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you."

"Y-you... are?"

"Mm-hmm," he says. And as his words settle into your brain, you feel your chest warm. When you open your eyes and he separates, there's a tear on his cheek, but he's quick to wipe it off. "I'm gonna open the front door."

It's just an excuse, you both know it, but neither dares to say anything. None of you wants to talk about the elephant in the room, the fact that your chances are slim even if this works.

Joel returns quickly, with his lashes wet and reddened eyes. It makes you speechless, to know that all this effort and tears are for you. You'd have never, in a million years, thought you'd ever see Joel Miller cry; let alone for you. He had always been so quiet, so detached from everyone, even from Tess.

Without a word, his hands get hooked on the underside of your thighs. He lifts you up, seemingly effortlessly, and your inner thighs surround his hips. You take a deep breath, again —or at least try to— as you try not to blush and show those feelings you buried long ago. This is not the time, nor the place; so you allow your head to follow his range of motion; forwards. Soon, your nose is pressed against the lapels of his denim shirt. With your good arm, you grab one of his broad shoulders. The other falls limp, and even that little movement hurts like hell.

He freezes, his shoulders now stiff under your hand. His beard grazes your jaw as he tries to look at you, so still in his arms.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..."

Better than okay, you want to respond. Better than I've been in a long time. But you don't.

He leaves you on the table, on the edge, with your legs dangling. His eyes waver for a second as he leaves you there, his hands squeeze your knees in such a brief movement that you wonder if he was even conscious of that. He looks like he wants to say something, but he can't think of what, so he turns around and bends his knees a little to get you to a good height.

"I need you to push yourself up with your good arm," he instructs. "and keep the other still, okay?"

"Okay," you respond, fighting the urge to just nod instead.

Not even following his instructions to a t saves you from the pain. The effort, even with your arm limp in the air, makes your body shudder and an agonizing stab runs through your whole spine. The scream that tores from the depths of your throat is so intense that Joel hesitates to put you back on the table, his back trembles for a second as his body shivers in distress. But, in the end, he has you in the air with a good hold.

He waits, but doesn't hear anything except shallow breaths, doesn't feel anything but the weight of your head over his shoulder.

"You with me?" he asks. He is seconds away from aborting the mission.

"Y-yeah..."

Your arm surrounds his neck loosely. Your fist is closed tightly, grabbing the other shoulder, and he wishes he could touch you, give you some kind of comfort, but he can't let go from his grip under your knees.

Joel does not have the privilege of time, every second is precious, so not even giving it a try, he starts walking as if you weighted nothing. He crosses the front door and the freezing cold wind of the East Coast cuts your cheeks. If he notices —and you know that he has, wearing just his shirt in the middle of the night— he doesn't react.

"Remember what I told you?" he asks.

In less than a minute he has crossed the space from the cabin to the highway, where you were surprised by raiders. You look around, see the bodies of five men sprawled on the floor; lifeless, drowning in a pool of their own blood. One of them has his face mauled to nothing. The sight is so sickening —or maybe you are getting so ill— that a sudden dizziness takes hold of your shivering body.

"Hey..."

"I'm sorry..." you start, teeth chattering from the cold. "I'm sorry I screamed into your ear earlier."

A sound, half a relieved sigh and half a chuckle, leaves his mouth.

"I'm half deaf from that ear anyway."

A light chuckle falls from your lips too. Joel keeps walking west through the highway, and you keep yourself desperately clinging to him for dear life. The moon is your only other companion; without her, you both would be completely blind in the darkness of the night.

[***]

Joel probably hadn't thought about the possibility of taking breaks along the way. That's why, fourty-five minutes later, and under a beautiful sunrise of orange tones, he's struggling to keep going. His knees are screaming for him to stop, his biceps and hands tired of walking with a person's weight over his shoulders. And for the first time in years he remembers the times before the outbreak, when he was capable of lifting and moving huge pieces of furniture; often times on his own, other times with just Tommy.

He might have overestimated his own strength, assuming he was as strong as before. But it seems that not only his mental health has deteriorated after Sarah's death, no. All of him has become older and darker and more broken since then. He hardly recognizes himself in the mirror anymore.

"Joel?"

"Yeah..." he gasps, out of air. "Sorry, I got distracted. You were saying...?"

It is in moments like this that he hates not to be that same person he was before. He wonders if he is, finally, paying for his past sins, for all the people, infected or not, that he has killed.

It is unfair, the fact that you're paying for his piper.

"You should stop for a while," you tell him, your voice low like a whisper. The warm air from your mouth slithers across his skin, up his neck, over his ear, and almost sends a shiver down his spine.

"No."

"Joel..." you huff. Before speaking again, you take a big gulp of air. "We are not getting anywhere if you don't take breaks. You'll just wear yourself off before we reach the halfway mark."

His mind refuses to agree, but it's as if his body takes a relieved breath when he hears the words. Little by little, his body starts to listen to you before his mind does. His thighs are screaming, sore from the pain of exertion; and before he acknowledges, even, his body has stopped moving.

"Okay," he gasps, quick tired breaths quickly entering and leaving his lungs. "...but just a minute, we don't have time for this bullshit."

"Okay," you say, in the same tone he used earlier with you; when he lied and said he knew you could sit up on your own. "Just a minute."

He pulls to the side of the road, and with the last of his strength he kneels down and tries to lay you on the ground as carefully as possible. You fall on your ass on the wet ground, but at least you don't hurt yourself on the spot. He asks you for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours if you are okay.

"I think I'm doing better than you," you respond, but your voice is so exhausted that Joel would love to just lay next to you and lull you to sleep.

He turns around, his whole weight sitting on the grass as he takes gulps of oxygen. His eyes shut tightly, he wipes off a tear of sweat from his temple and looks at you.

Wide-open eyes stare back at you, but just for a split second. He gets closer, his thumb brushing the shoulder of the brown jacket, his brown jacket. His eyes pierce yours.

"Are you sure?"

"That bad do I look?"

Joel doesn't look at you, not at your face getting paler by the second or the dark circles under your eyes, or your hair now dishevelled. He sees you on his memories and can barely recognize you; your skin and eyes always glowing under the sun, your hair always perfectly done. Your job was often to act as an HR for their clients, and very rarely took actual FEDRA jobs that stained your hands; you weren't like Joel, you didn't care about rations or money or whatever.

Expert fingers gently tug at the buttons, unbuttoning them so he could take a look to the wound. He had barely a glimpse of it when your fingers stopped his hands. Joel looks at you with those puppy eyes, as if you were about to faint in the next second.

"If you wanted to see me naked you didn't have to wait until I got shot, you know?"

You had said it in a playful manner, kidding, as a joke; but he saw beyond that. Part of you had only expected him to laugh, the other was dying —not pun intended— for him to kiss you. You'd have never said it if you weren't in this position, you'd have never gotten in between Joel and Tess.

However, he didn't laugh, didn't make any funny remark. The way he looked at you, from under his eyebrows, lit a spark of hope somewhere inside you. Deep, deeper than your conscious mind would have ever reached. Joel didn't say anything, not even chuckled. His eyes came back to the wound, and uncovered the full sight of it.

He had to fight a shocked gasp. His eyes fluttered, while holding his breath, between your own face and the wound. The bandage was still soaked in blood, that he had expected, but not the large bruise growing into your neck; or your right hand slightly paler than the other. He lifted, with trembling fingers, a corner of the bandage, and his action caused a trickle of dark blood to gush out, as if he had crushed a piece of watermelon between his fingers and it was now running down his arm. He looked below, inside his jacket, and saw a trail of blood that landed right into your navel.

This time, it was impossible for him not to react. Not only his face, but also his body. He tried to get back on his two feet again, but before he finished the action, your fist closed around his wrist.

"Joel..." he heard you call.

"We need to go, now."

Pressing your lips in a sad smile, you pulled him to the ground and he sat, mesmerised on that face he had only yet seen once; that time when he got too drunk on a Friday night and told you about Sarah at three in the morning. He felt his pulse quicken, his heart beating at the ends of his fingertips.

"It's okay," you told him. Your gentle touch brushed his palm, danced around over his tan skin. "You can rest."

Joel felt like he was in a fever dream. The setting certainly felt like it. You hadn't left the Boston QZ in a long while, and he had never pictured you out of those big silver walls either. He had not agreed to Tess' idea either, the dangers beyond the walls were almost impossible to escape. Still, Tess and him knew the city, they could get out fairly easily, had done that for a couple years to share stories over dinner with Bill and Frank. And Joel had loved the idea of seeing you sitting at that dinner table next to him, surrounded by a garden full of flowers, going through the dresses in the boutique that Tess had sworn you'd love.

He had not signed up for this.

"We need to go, please..." he tried a second time, but you just shook your head. He understood, somehow, what you meant.

"A minute won't make a difference," you told him. In reality, you wanted to tell him that you'd be dead when he got the both of you to Lincoln, anyway. "If you are tired we will never get there."

Useless and powerless as he felt, his only option was waiting. He took your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and took a deep breath. You had never seen him so upset.

"What are you so scared of?"

At your words, his lower lip quivered slightly; it would almost have gone unnoticed if it wasn't because you had been watching him attentively for so many years. He looked at you, eyes barely half open, from under his eyelashes.

"You're very important to me," he said. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, he seemed to be even more breathless than he was before. Joel had a hard time admitting his feelings, even to himself. "I don't know if you understand to what extent you're important to me."

"I know..." you answered, nodding, your hand squeezed his for a second, trying to give him strength. "But you have Tess home, and your brother loves you... It will hurt for a while..."

"Shut. Up."

His eyes were tightly shut when he said it. It was a metaphor, almost, the way his eyes were closed not just to the physical world, but to the whole situation too that he couldn't escape from.

The tip of your tongue wetted your lips.

"What I'm trying to say is... it will pass..."

His chest heaved, his gaps the only sound that filled the space between the two of you. And you continued:

"People die all the time, Joel; and most times we can't do anything about it."

His body rushed at you, his hands locked perfectly on both your cheeks, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally in place.

"Not you, you hear me? Not you," he almost growled, his face a mixture of anger, determination, and grief. "Never you. You're not allowed to leave me. I will never forgive you."

There was something hidden between the lines, something Joel wasn't saying. It was something you had denied yourself for a long time, for years, something you had insisted on not seeing because you didn't want to see it. Because, deep down, you were afraid that Joel would never love you back, that he would break your heart, that the only good man you'd ever known inside the walls of the Boston QZ would also be the one to abandon you to your luck.

Joel had been your family for so long, and you had unconsciously protected yourself from seeing him as something else. But now there it was, clearly, latent in his confession. Your punishment for years of silence was now time, or rather, the lack of it.

"I'm not giving up," he said. "and I need you not to give up either."

He's close. His hot breath smells sweet -so instinctively Joel- and it's all around your face. His flesh is warm over the freezing skin of your cheeks. His body around you is shelter, is home.

Joel is soon leaning in. He's all erratic breathing, rapid heartbeat and trembling hands; and as you close your eyes to allow his presence to swallow you like a black hole, he closes his eyes too.

He doesn't let go, not just yet. He breathes in into your quick breaths the same way you revel in his.

"I need an answer," he whispers over your mouth.

"I won't, either."

At first it's like a collision. He kisses you angrily for a split second, demanding and impatient; then, once he knows this is really happening, once he does understand that this is —finally— not a dream, he relaxes into your touch, your fingers delineating his jawline, caressing the beard there.

He's quick, quicker than you'd have expected him to be; definitely quicker then he would have liked. He separates, then; and looks down at his jacket and the drops of blood staining the insides of it. It's not enough blood to send you into shock again, but it means part of the wound is ripping. You need stitches, not just a couple of bandages.

"Enough resting then," he says.

[***]

Seven miles is usually nothing for Joel. In the first few months trading with Bill and Frank, Tess and him usually walked the fifteen miles that separated the city and the town at least twice a month. But this is all the more difficult, not just carrying you there, but knowing that he is running out of time.

And you seem hellbent on making the journey even more difficult.

"So...Tess?"

"Pass."

You huff, and the warm air sends a shiver down his spine; but he says nothing.

"Okay."

Your voice sounds so disappointed that he feels a pang of guilt. You know him better than to insist, and he knows that too. The guilt increases, though; and now he's inhaling a big gulp of air while still walking as fast as he possibly can without hurting his own knees.

"We fucked a few times, before," he says. "but that doesn't mean anything. She's my colleague. That's all."

If he was better with words, and feelings, he could say that he didn't feel anything for her. He could say that their hookups were nothing, just a fun thing they used to do before, before he realized that the one who he really wanted was you. A few months back he had realized that it never actually satisfied him, that those moments with Tess weren't as fun and innocent as they seemed to be before. They had talked about it, of course. He didn't want to play with her feelings, and that had been the end of it. She was just as fine without him, anyway.

"I thought you two were dating."

"If selling drugs for a living is what you call dating, then yes."

Without even looking at you, he knew you were smiling, he could almost feel your lips stretching over his shirt.

"I..." you said, then he heard you take another deep breath before talking again. "I'm sorry I asked you," another breath. "I... ran out of things to say."

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"You can say anything," he says. "Anything you really like, even a story."

Anything just to know you're there...

"Well..." you started. Then, a wheezing noise filled the air, followed by a gasp. "I... liked rock music-" silence. "...back in the day."

"You okay?"

Your fist tightened around his shoulder, your forehead pressing against his trapezius. He heard that wheezing sound again, followed by a pant. His hands squeezed harder the tender flesh under her knees.

Joel tried to look at her, but all he could see from his peripheral vision was the top of her head and one eye tightly closed. His throat turned into knots.

"Baby..." that was the most gentle tone you had ever heard coming from his mouth. "C'mon baby. Hold on, we're almost there."

His whole body felt paralyzed, and he had to force himself to keep walking.

What he didn't know was that your lungs were burning. They felt like a pair of balloons squeezing against your ribs, trying to expand beyond its cage. And it made all the pain in your back, from the shot, double as painful. The air you tried to swallow so bad, sounded like a whistle, like the breeze through an almost closed window. You were suffocating.

"Talk to me, c'mon."

With a painful drag of air, you complied.

"I can't..." your fist tightened around the fabric of his shirt. "I can't."

"Goddamnit..." he was panicking now. "Okay, that's okay baby. Just hold on to me, don't let go."

Unable to do anything else, you just nodded as best you could and kept on holding on to him. His eyes desperately looked for signs of the town, and far away, in the distance, the row of trees ended; and he walked faster, hoping that Bill had already seen the both of you through the cameras.

"J-Joel"

You struggled to find air, and, therefore, the words.

"Easy, easy" he said. "Just a bit more. You can do it, I know you can."

His words lingered in the air, unanswered, not even him fully believed them. Joel was starting to feel his own shirt wet with blood from your wound. The feeling made him sick, his own imagination as he pictured what Bill was watching through the cameras, made it all a hundred times worse.

He kept hearing the panting, the wheezing, becoming more desperate by the second. He realized, with horror, that you were suffocating righ there, on his back; from a collapsing lung, he guessed.

He shouted Bill's name as he saw the fence that separated them from the town. Joel wasn't sure if he could hear him, but tried anyway.

He felt your grip on his shirt hesitate, and he had to fight the instinct to squeeze your hand; if he had done it, you'd have fallen from his own grip. He heard you try and say his name.

"Save it," he responded, even if it came out not as reassuring as he would have liked. "Don't try to talk."

Before he reached the fence, it was already opening. Bill came out running, yelling something that he was too distracted to distinguish, Frank came behind him. Joel felt his knees wobble once through the gate. And now kneeling on the floor, he called your name, tried to turn his head to take a glimpse of you.

"You did it. We're here."

He noticed, then, that everything seemed all too silent. Everything that happened after that, happened very quickly. The hand that had been gripping his shirt slipped, limp over his shoulder.

His mind disconnected, completely unaware of the other two people approaching. He released you with all the care that a person could have had, and his arms immediately caught you in an embrace. The sight of your closed eyes made him panic, and not having even checked your pulse, he buried his face into your neck and sobbed.

Trails of blood ran through his forearms, and he threw up all the words that passed through his mind; a string of 'please stay' and 'I'm sorry'.

"Joel," Frank struggled with him, fingers digging into his shoulder. "Joel you have to let go. Let us help her."

He was too far gone, so much so that once your body hit the floor, Frank didn't allow him to touch you again. He sobbed, and, for a second, Bill saw himself in him. He would have never thought he would see Joel in this state, but yet there he was. He kept pressure on the wound, and saw himself in Joel, and Frank in you; and promised he would never let this happen to the two of them.

Never.

[***]

The sun comes out the next morning. As it always does, as it always has. Orange light and blue skies illuminate the room, the clouds shine a different color; and Joel blinks; absolutely exhausted, devastated.

His body is heavy, even if he's not holding any of his weight. He's sitting on the cold tiles, on the floor, his sore knees and thighs in the space under the bed, his head lying on the mattress, his whole body is bent over and it feels like jelly. His eyes are the only thing moving, they look at the window and see the night sky turn into daylight.

Joel couldn't possibly say that he slept in that position; because he didn't actually sleep. He hasn't had a second of sleep since you got shot two days ago. Lying on the bed, is you, dormant; and his thumb draws circles on the back of you hand even if he's not paying attention to it. It comforts him to a degree, at least.

Suddenly, pretty much everything has lost its meaning. Frank opens the door an hour later, almost tripping with the tray of food and water that he left the night before for Joel. He hasn't touched any of it. In fact, he forgot about it, but if it bothers him, Frank doesn't say anything. He takes it in his hands so he can take it to the kitchen downstairs.

"We played 'I will survive' in the radio" he whispers before leaving. "It's a 70s song, but Tess will get the meaning."

"Thank you," he mutters, his mouth pasty from barely speaking in the last twenty-four hours. Funnily enough, the only word he's said to them is 'thank you'.

"You're welcome, Joel," he says. After a few seconds, waiting, he makes a dissatisfied sound. Frank approaches Joel, his palm squeezing his shoulder. "You should eat something, at least. Is there anything you want?"

Joel looks at him, lifting his cheek from the mattress for the first time. His eyes are blood-shot and black circles adorn his eyes.

"Coffee."

"Not coffee, you need sleep."

He huffs, his eyes lost in the window again. Frank, knowing he won't get anything from him again, vanishes behind the door and into the kitchen. He will bring him warm food later, hoping the smell will make him eat something despite his unwillingness to listen to any signal of hunger from his own body.

A few moments later, your hand slips from his. As he loses your touch, a pang hits the pit of his stomach. But then, as he lifts from the mattress again, your fingertips lightly touch his chin, your thumb lovingly brushing his beard.

"Baby?"

Maybe he lost his sense of time, because he didn't expect you to wake up yet. In any case, when he sees your eyes open he practically pounces on the bed. He sits on the edge, and swallows the image of you looking at him.

"Morning."

He smiles at your words, feels his strength coming back into his body.

"You're here," he says.

Even beaten up as you look, he thinks you are gorgeous. Your face has regained its usual color, the bruising is coming down, changing colors little by little, the wound is stitched and bandaged, and the blood flow seems to reach your fingertips normally once again. Joel has no idea how Bill fixed the collapsing lung, he had said something about medical knowledge being necessary in the field too, but he hadn't paid attention. He doesn't care about the details, though. He just cares that you're safe and sound, and despite the close call, that has seemed to be the end result to this whole dilemma.

There's no blood in sight, not even in the bandages. Frank had washed the blood from your hair the day before, and Joel had helped with the rest. He wished he could have you like this everyday: happy, clean, safe...

In the last few hours Joel had discovered he was jealous. He wished he had a town like Lincoln all to himself, just so he could see you picking flowers in the front garden.

"I'm here," you told him. The words felt like strawberries in his mouth. "and I'm not giving up on you."

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, leaned in for both your foreheads to meet, and kissed you.

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