#oh the anger and despair was beautiful

[animentality]

controversial hot take of the day:

game of thrones fans deserved what they got in 2019.

they deserved it.

nine years.

NINE years.

NINE YEARS they circle jerked themselves all over the rest of us, with the "omg game of thrones is the best story ever written in the history of humanity" and "it's so dark and there's so much sex and violence and it's so hot and it's sooo mature, it's not boring and sexless like lord of the rings-"

yeah well, Lord of the fucking Rings stuck the landing, didn't it?

it also had a fucking ending.

game of thrones fans probably won't see a novel ending. so the TV show ending is their canon ending.

and they deserve it.

they talked it up for nine years, acted like it was this perfect beautiful thing that would go down in history as the greatest story ever to grace this earth, and if you didn't like it, then you were called some kind of moron.

by fucking soccer moms with the literary comprehension of a tortoise, and cis white men who think anything with tits, rape, and people being beheaded is "deep" and intelligent.

I remember being pestered nonstop by my peers and my coworkers to watch it, because it's part of the "cultural zeitgeist" and it was a "part of history."

Well, well, well.

Icarus called to tell you your time was up, but you didn't listen until you hit the ground.

But those wax wings sure were beautiful while they existed, weren't they?

[janiehellion]

Wildflower Woes

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl Dixon hates you. Or does he? And do you only love the flowers that grow in your own garden, or do you love the wild ones too? Because with eyes watching in the darkness of the night, nothing is ever quite as it seems.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: S1!DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / HURT / ANGST / VOYEURISM / MASTURBATION / EXHIBITIONISM / DUB-CON / LANGUAGE / CUM PLAY / SEMI-PUBLIC

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.000

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: NON-CON ELEMENTS

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

As you walked behind Daryl, your eyes drifted from the road ahead to the ground beside your feet, where something caught your eye and distracted you rather fast from everything else around you—a bunch of wildflowers that had bloomed along the side of the road. They were not only the kind you’ve always loved, but they were also a small reminder of what life really was like not so long ago.

Without a second thought, you decided to step off the path, with your fingers reaching out instinctively to touch the nearest blossom in silent admiration.

"They’re still so beautiful, despite everything," you whispered quietly to yourself, not wanting Daryl to hear what you were saying. "I remember how I always thought these were just pretty-looking weeds as a kid because Mom and Dad always had them everywhere in our garden. God, I miss them so much."

Kneeling down beside the flowers, you allowed yourself a quiet moment of peace, thinking back to a few weeks ago when everything was still normal. To those weekends gardening with your mom while your dad cut the lawn or filmed you and your mother to capture memories for the future. The time when your parents were still alive.

But that short moment of peace was quickly shattered by an all-too-familiar sound that made your heart skip a beat and sent a shiver through your body. Spinning around, your eyes locked on the rotting figure of a walker emerging from behind a tree, and panic flooded your mind.

"Shit!" You screamed, stumbling backward and falling hard onto the ground, and in your desperate attempt to avoid being bitten, you reached for your weapon, only to realize the handle was tangled with the strap of your backpack. Despair washed over you as the walker got closer, its hands reaching out to dig its fingers into your flesh.

Just then, Daryl heard your scream. He spun around, his crossbow aimed at the walker, and in the blink of an eye, the creature dropped dead at your feet with a bolt in its head.

"What in the hell were ya doin'?" Daryl shouted, his face full of anger as he rushed over.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you stumbled to your feet, your voice trembling. "I… I just noticed the flowers! I’ve always liked flowers and these—"

"Flowers? Ya nearly got yerself killed over some damn flowers?" His eyes narrowed in frustration.

Daryl’s voice was bitter, full of anger, as he grabbed your arm and pulled you roughly back onto the road. Before you could react, he stomped his boot into the patch of flowers, grinding them into the dirt in front of your eyes.

"Can't believe ya'd risk yer life for this bullshit!" He said, as he pulled his bolt out of the walker and walked back to you again.

His grip on your arm tightened, and he yanked you forward. "Look at ya," he growled, full of disgust. "Ya think this is some kinda shitty garden party? We're fightin' to survive, and yer out here actin' like a pussy over a bunch of fuckin' flowers! ‘S that what's gonna save us? A fuckin' bouquet?"

His words made you flinch, and you were unable to hold back the tears that had already formed in your eyes. When you looked back up, Daryl's face was only inches from yours.

"Oh, look at ya, so delicate and pure!" He taunted with disdain. "Yeah… Ya gonna stop this shitshow with a bouquet, huh? Gonna wave 'em around and make all the walkers bow down to yer flowery grace? What’s next, princess? A fuckin’ garden gnome to guard the damn camp?"

You tried to steady your voice, fighting back your sobs. "Listen, Daryl… Thank you for saving me, really! But I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble! I just... I just wanted a moment of beauty that reminded me of—"

"A moment of beauty? Ya think yer gonna find some happy endin' in the middle of all this shit? It's like yer livin' in a fuckin' fantasy! Newsflash: This ain’t a damn fairy tale!" Daryl cut you off with a mocking laugh.

He stepped closer, invading your personal space. "Oh, I see. Ya got this big-ass plan, don't ya? Ya gonna sprinkle some petals ‘round and charm all the dead assholes with yer pretty flowers, huh? Hell, why not add a unicorn that shits glitter while yer at it?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but his insults didn't even give you a chance. "Oh, wait, I got it! Ya gonna build a fairyland where everything is perfect and we all live happily ever after! Ya gonna knit a quilt with flowers on it, and everyone will forget 'bout the damn world fallin' apart! That’s yer big-ass plan, ain't it?"

Listening to him, you struggled more and more to hold back your sobs, but you finally found the confidence to respond. "That's not true! And I didn’t say that. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" Daryl interrupted again, his voice almost yelling in anger. "Ya think that’s gonna change anything? Get real! Out here, ya don't get to have yer shitty moments of peace. Ya either get yer head outta yer ass or ya die!"

He shook his head, scoffing at you. "Tell me! What’s next, huh? Ya gonna start singin' lullabies to the walkers? Maybe ya should bake ‘em some cookies and ask ‘em to join the damn camp," he spat out, finally turning away and leaving you standing in the middle of the road, knowing that you’d follow him one way or another.

And you did.

Aside from Daryl's few mutterings of frustration, the walk back to the camp was quiet. He didn’t offer you an apology, nor did he ask why you seemed so fascinated by those wildflowers in the first place. Instead, he simply continued to walk ahead, throwing you angry sidelong glances from time to time, while his annoyed curses and angry mumblings barely reached your ears anymore.

You allowed the minutes to pass, and just as you were beginning to accept being his supply run partner a little bit more, Daryl's voice was heard again. "Quit yer damn whinin'! Pretty flowers ain't gonna keep ya alive!" he said, his anger not yet gone. "All this fuckin' bullshit just makes ya look weak! Ain't nobody got time for that. Ya gotta get that into yer head!"

He looked ahead, and with a sudden, quick move, he lifted his boot and stomped down on another few wildflowers growing along the side of the road. Your jaw dropped in disbelief, and your eyes widened in shock and hurt. The purpose behind it—to obviously hurt you—only made you clench your fists tighter, your nails digging into your palms.

But you stayed silent; the last thing you wanted was to give him any more reason to bully you and to fuel his anger. Instead, you focused on keeping your breathing steady, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you continued to follow behind him.

As you both finally approached the quarry, Daryl’s anger reached its breaking point, and in a rather sudden decision, he stormed off the path, disappearing into the woods without another word and taking the rest of the supplies with him.

"Yeah, yeah, run away, you fucking dickhead," you whispered to yourself before putting the backpack down next to the RV. "What a damn idiot! Just because he’s got a stick up his ass doesn’t mean he is allowed to shit on everything that others care about. He thinks he’s so tough, but he’s just an asshole who’s always acting like he’s the only one who matters around here! And here I was, thinking I might actually like him and have a soft spot for him. Guess I was just kidding myself. What a fucking joke!" You continued and let the sadness come out quietly as you were left standing alone.

"Can’t believe he thinks this is some kind of, I don't know, redneck survival training. ‘Oh, look at me, I’m so tough! I’ll just destroy whatever makes you happy!’ Well, newsflash to you too, Dixon: You’re not the only one who’s capable of surviving! Jesus…"

The sudden sound of footsteps approaching stopped your rant, and you turned to see Dale walking towards you with a look of concern. "Hey there," he said with a smile, taking the backpack into his hands. "You look like you’ve had a rough time out there today. Is everything okay? Where’s Daryl Dixon?"

You hesitated for a moment, the situation that has happened before making it hard for you to find the right words. Finally, you sighed and responded.

"I couldn’t give less of a fuck where that man is right now! I mean, listen, Daryl’s been—well, he’s been a jerk, like always. He got mad about a few pretty flowers that I found. You know, the wild ones that I showed you the other day when you were talking with Shane? Well, Daryl ended up stomping all over them because he had to save me from a walker, since the flowers distracted me and nearly got me killed. And now he’s just gone off into the woods without a word. He even took the rest of the supplies we’ve found with him. Can you believe that, Dale?"

"Oh, yes, I do remember the flowers; very nice to look at. My wife would’ve loved them as well, believe me," Dale’s eyes studied you as he listened to you, trying to understand what had happened, "but I’m sorry to hear about what has happened. Sure, Daryl’s got a lot of—let’s call it rough and tough edges. But I’m sure he’ll be back soon with the supplies; don’t you worry about that."

His words and warm smile helped to calm you down a little. "Yeah, I guess you’re right," you sighed, feeling a little better. "Thanks, Dale. I just needed to let off some steam. And maybe Daryl's right, some of those flowers weren’t meant to survive this cruel world…"

Dale nodded once more but looked slightly concerned because of your answer, though he decided not to address it, nor did he press any further. "Anytime. Now, let’s get these supplies sorted. I bet that Daryl will calm down soon enough as well."

You couldn't help but laugh at the thought. "Yeah, maybe. And pigs might fly too."

Soon enough, you were busy sorting the supplies when you heard footsteps approaching again. This time, it was Daryl who did come back from the woods, but his face showed that he was still annoyed.

"Here," he snapped, tossing his bag of supplies onto the ground. "Forgot to leave 'em here. Don’t expect any flowers or fairy dust."

You looked up from the supplies, sighing loudly. "Yeah, thanks," you answered quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. "I guess it’s good you’re back. The camp needs those supplies."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Ya know, if ya spent less time daydreamin' and more time focusin' on what’s important, then we wouldn’t have to deal with this shit."

"Is that so?" You shot back, struggling to stay calm. "And what exactly is ‘important’ to you, Daryl? Destroying everything that reminds people of normalcy?"

He snorted at you. "Normalcy? Ain’t no such thing in this world no more. If ya can’t handle that, maybe ya should stay behind."

His words hurt, but you forced yourself not to fuel his anger. "Well, maybe if you weren’t so hell-bent on destroying everything that might still matter to others, you’d see that sometimes people need a bit of hope, however small."

Daryl stared you down. "Hope? Hope won’t keep ya alive. Only havin' a pair of balls and havin’ a clear head will do that. And from where I stand, ya got none of that."

"I guess we’ve all got our own way of coping with this new world," you said quietly, not really knowing what to answer him anymore. 

His eyes studied you. "Copin'? Ya think I’m just ‘copin'’ here? I’m tryna keep us alive, and all ya do is mess 'round with flowers like it’s some kind of goddamn gardenin' hobby."

You took a deep breath. "I’m just trying to hold on to a bit of what makes me human. I know it might seem pointless to you at the moment, but those flowers... they remind me of something good, something that I miss."

Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well, good for ya. Maybe ya can save the world with yer damn flowers, while the rest of us are riskin' our asses."

Before you could respond, Andrea approached you, having overheard the conversation. "Hey, is everything alright?" She asked, her eyes looking from you to Daryl.

"Just a little disagreement," you answered, forcing a smile. "Nothing we can’t handle."

Daryl took a step back and shook his head. "Yeah, well, I’m done wastin' my time here. Gonna get some rest."

As he walked away, Andrea rolled her eyes and turned to you with a smile. "Don’t let him get to you. He's an asshole. But you’re doing the right thing by holding on to what makes you feel human. You’ll get used to him eventually."

Later that evening, as the campfire was burning down slowly and the rest of the group went to go to sleep after their meal, you sat quietly on the side, lost in your thoughts. Daryl had withdrawn from the group, sitting alone by a tree as he stared into the flames from afar. Eventually, you stood up and walked off to your tent, but the next morning, a flower appeared by the entrance, carefully placed where it was visible but not too obvious.

"Is he for real?" You said to yourself, not really sure why he'd even continue to make fun of you like this in the first place.

While you were helping with camp chores a short time later, you spotted Jacqui kneeling by the water, washing the clothes. Taking the chance to get some answers, you approached her.

"Hey, Jacqui," you began, trying to sound neutral. "I found this wildflower in front of my tent. Any idea who might be leaving them? I don't know if Andrea told you, but I had a problem with Daryl yesterday, and I thought he left the flower there just to keep on making fun of me."

"Of course Andrea told me, how come you think she wouldn’t? You can’t keep secrets around here!" Jacqui looked up, laughing out loud. "But come on, are you for real? You think it was Daryl Dixon? Really? Come on, that's too funny."

You blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "Wait, you think it’s funny that I’m even considering Daryl after him acting like a total dickhead? I just thought—"

Jacqui laughed again, shaking her head. "Oh, come on. Daryl? Why should he continue to make fun of you like that? I mean, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a beer can at your head, or leave a skinned squirrel in front of your tent or even under your pillow, but flowers? You're overthinking things. Honestly, I'd bet it's Shane."

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. "Shane? Seriously? That’s what you think? But Daryl literally bullied me because of them."

Jacqui stood up, stretching her arms. "So, what? I’m just saying that sometimes it’s better not to overthink things, especially when it comes to the Dixon brothers. There's nothing that'd benefit him in mocking you any further. Anyway, I’ve got clothes to get back to." With that, Jacqui wandered off, leaving you confused and a bit embarrassed.

"Hey! It’s not like I expect him to start a flower shop anytime soon, okay? It’s just super weird!" You shouted after her, shaking your head slightly, before you caught sight of Daryl from a distance, kneeling over his crossbow. The sight of him—mumbling to himself and clearly busy with whatever he was doing—irritated you, and you decided it was time to confront him directly.

"Daryl, can we talk for a second?" You finally asked and approached him hesitantly.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. "Whaddaya want, woman?"

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady despite the frustration you felt about him still being angry with you. "I found this flower this morning. Right by my tent."

"Yeah? And what’s that gotta do with me?" Daryl’s eyes narrowed, his tone defensive.

"I just thought that maybe you’d know something about it. I mean, I didn’t think it was a coincidence, since the flower is like the same from—" You started, but he didn't let you finish.

"Hell, I dunno nothin’ ‘bout those damn flowers. Ya think I’m runnin’ ‘round playin’ flower fairy for ya now or what? It wasn't me. Keep dreamin'," Daryl cut you off, his jaw tightening. 

His voice was harsh, his tone dismissive. "Just stop pissin’ me off; yer just lookin’ too much into shit. It’s just flowers. Quit tryna make somethin’ outta nothin’."

Your frustration was growing, and you took a step closer. "I’m just trying to understand. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to understand something. Look, it doesn’t make sense for this flower to just—"

Before you could finish, Daryl cut you off again. "Hell, just drop it! Got enough problems without ya comin’ at me with this bullshit. Ain’t in the mood for yer crap no more."

Just then, Shane appeared with a wide smile on his face. "Hey there," he said, leaning against a nearby tree. "I couldn’t help but notice you looking a bit stressed. You up for some fishing? Could use some company, if you’re interested, that is."

You glanced between Shane’s big smile and Daryl’s scowling face, and with a small nod, you agreed. "Yeah, that actually sounds nice. I could definitely use a break right now. And it’d be nice to eat some fish every now and then."

Shane’s smile widened. "Perfect! We’ll have a great time, I’m sure of it; even if we don’t catch anything, it’ll still be fun. I’ll go get everything ready and come back to get you when I’m done."

"Why don’t ya both just try to drown while fishin’ then? I’m sure ya’d both do a great job at it," Daryl suddenly mumbled, turning back to his bag.

"Excuse me? What was that? What did you just say?" You asked, trying to keep your voice calm, but your confusion was obvious as you watched Shane walk away. "And what the hell are you even doing there in the first place, Daryl?"

"None of yer damn business," he snapped back at you with annoyance. "Maybe ya should spend less time bein’ a pain in the ass and more time doin’ somethin’ useful. Like catchin’ more than just one damn pitiful fish with that Romeo ya got over there."

You shook your head, feeling your frustration boil over. "You think you’re the only one who cares about survival? We’re all trying to get by, Daryl. But as a team! Together, as a group of survivors! And you? You’re just being an asshole."

Daryl’s gaze hardened. "Oh, that so? And what’s yer excuse for bein’ a pathetic, whiny mess? Thinkin’ yer entitled to shit? Get over yerself."

Before you could respond, Shane reappeared with some of the fishing gear. He then noticed Daryl’s bag next to his crossbow and raised an eyebrow. "Thistles? What the hell are you gonna do with thistles, Dixon? Prick us to death?"

"Guess we’ll be havin’ a fancy-ass thistle salad for dinner. Real gourmet shit," Daryl answered sarcastically. "Ya can eat parts of 'em, if ya so keen on knowin', but I bet ya knew that already, ain’t that so officer fancy-pants?"

Shane’s face turned serious as he glanced between you and Daryl. "Dixon, you got a problem with something? ‘Cause you’re acting like a real jackass for no goddamn reason at all!"

Daryl turned back to his bag. "Nah, just tired of watchin’ ya’ll pretend to be so high and mighty. Don’t need no charity fishin’ trip from ya, Shane."

Shane’s jaw clenched slightly, but he tried to sound calm. "Funny, Daryl, really funny. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before you start a fight you can’t win."

Daryl’s expression grew darker. "Ain’t here to be ya damn buddy, Walsh. Got my own shit to deal with, so why don’t ya just keep yer damn opinions to yerself?"

"Alright, alright. You do you, Dixon," Shane answered, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile as he looked at you again. "Come on, let's go fishing then; I’ll ask Jim to be on the lookout in the meantime."

You watched Shane walk away, then turned back to Daryl, who was now looking at the thistles in his bag.

"Great, really great. That went well," you sighed, shaking your head, but Daryl didn’t respond and instead continued to fumble with the thistles. You soon walked away, joining Shane by the water. 

"Let’s get this set up," he said, handing you a fishing rod. "We might as well make the best of it."

As the time went by, the conversation drifted to other topics. Shane talked about his past life, even sharing police stories that made you smile despite yourself.

"Thanks for this," you soon said. "It’s nice to get away from the group a little, even if it isn’t far, and just... be."

Shane nodded, focusing on his line. "Yeah, I figured you could use a break. Daryl’s got a way of being a pain in the ass."

"I guess that’s one way to put it," you laughed back. “But he isn’t the only one around who isn’t very great to get along with. The real pain in the ass around here is Ed, and that’s a fact.”

“Ed, yeah, don’t remind me. But you do realize that talking about Ed would be a pain in the ass just as much, don’t you think?” He smirked, casting his line again. "But speaking of Dixon, you know, it’s actually funny. Because I’ve seen that asshole sneaking around your tent more than once. Creepy as hell if you ask me."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait... What are you talking about? What do you mean? Daryl Dixon? What? When?"

Shane shrugged casually. "Well, I’ve already seen him lurking around your tent when you first got here weeks ago, like he’s some kind of damn stalker. Even seen him hide behind some of the cars at night. Also quite funny, because Jim was the one who caught him near the RV first, since he’s more or less the mechanic around here. Did you know that being an auto mechanic was Jim’s job? Who would’ve guessed?"

You frowned at him, processing this new information. "Shane, could you please stop trying to change the damn topic for a moment? This isn’t about Jim right now! Just tell me if you’re serious about Daryl sneaking around my tent!"

"Relax, relax! But yeah," Shane laughed and shook his head. "I mean, Daryl’s always been a bit of a freak, but that... that was something else. Fucking creep."

You bit your lip, feeling confused. "I don’t know, Shane. I mean, sure, he’s rough around the edges, like Dale pointed out before too, but..."

"But? But what?" Shane asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You hesitated, then sighed. "It’s a little stupid, okay? But when I first got here, I kind of had a fleeting thing for him. But not for long; I mean, I didn’t know anybody around here; you were all just strangers, so of course I didn’t know what he’s actually like."

Shane’s face quickly showed disbelief and a bit of anger. "You’re shitting me, right? That piece of shit who literally told us to drown? You had a crush on him?"

You shook your head, feeling quite embarrassed. "No, listen, it wasn’t exactly a crush! Please, don't call it a crush, okay? I simply thought there was more to him, you know? Maybe under all that anger, there’s someone who… cares."

Shane shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight that you could see his muscles twitch while he was gritting his teeth. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That hillbilly dipshit? He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, just like his brother Merle. And now he’s got you thinking he’s some kind of misunderstood hero? That piece of shit couldn’t even fit into the anti-hero category if he wanted to! I already told Lori and Carol to keep Carl and Sophia away from him and his brother! Because they’re both a bad influence!"

"It’s not like that, Shane! I know he’s very difficult, but..." You started, but he cut you off once more.

"But nothing!" Shane snapped. "God, you sound just like Dale! Please now, just listen to me. You deserve better than that. Someone who actually gives a damn about you. Not some freaking weirdo who creeps around your tent at night. I know that I should’ve told you sooner, and I’m sorry. But you think Daryl’s going to change just because Merle’s probably dead? Nah. He’s just going to keep treating you and all of us like shit. But I’m here, and I actually care about you and the rest of us. And I did care right from the start."

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by his words. "Shane, please, this really is turning into an awkward conversation right now. I just need some time to think and not a motivational coach with a shotgun and a fishing rod."

"Fine. But just remember what I said. Daryl’s not the guy you think he is." He leaned back, crossing his arms. "And you know what? The two of you are a perfect pair of fuckin’ clichés. The tough redneck guy and the naive dreamer princess. It’s pathetic."

You hesitated, unsure of how to continue the conversation. "Okay, okay, I got it! Stop! I meant to ask you a different question anyway! About a flower I found by my tent. Did you leave it there for me?"

Shane shook his head. "Me? Leaving you a flower? No. Don’t have time for that. I have to keep this group safe, after all."

You sighed, feeling a bit of relief. "I know, I know, it's just that... Jacqui thought it might've been you. Guess she was wrong."

Shane shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to talk any further. "Yeah, well, let’s just finish up here and head back."

A short time later, you and Shane packed up your gear and headed back to the camp, where the rest of the group, apart from Daryl, was already sitting around the campfire and talking. about the usual things, all the while you couldn’t stop thinking about what Shane had told you as you stared into the fire.

And as the night finally fell over the Atlanta camp, Daryl found himself in the shadows and lost in thought. He had withdrawn from the group throughout the rest of the day, thinking about how Shane and your fishing trip had annoyed him and left him feeling more than just pissed.

He moved quietly through the trees, his steps almost making little to no sound while his mind was full of conflicting thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. He was still angry with himself over everything that had happened—his rage towards you, Shane’s arrogant attitude, and his own pushed-away emotions that he couldn't really ignore.

Standing by the edge of your tent, he looked around to make sure he was alone and out of sight before he crouched down, pulling out a small bundle from his pocket—another wildflower, the exact kind that you liked so much.

"Fuckin' ridiculous," he mumbled to himself and snorted. "Here I am, sneakin' 'round like some kind of goddamn lunatic."

He put it gently on the ground, just near the entrance of your tent, where you had to notice it one way or another. His fingers moved along the petals of the flower as if it could somehow help him feel better with his guilt. "Goddamn it, Daryl," he whispered to himself. "Ya really fucked it all up, like ya always do. Stompin' on 'em flowers like a fuckin' idiot. What were ya even thinkin'?"

His eyes narrowed as he remembered how he had responded and how he had used his insults and rage to try to push you away. "Ya didn’t mean it," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Ya were just so pissed off. Shane’s up her ass all day, and ya had to be the one who’s had to do somethin'. Hell, she's gonna think it was him now anyway, with the way he’s been actin' 'round her, that's for damn sure."

He stood up, avoiding stepping on the flower. "But ya know what? It ain’t 'bout him. 'S 'bout yerself, ya fuckin' idiot. Ya can’t just keep watchin' her and expectin' her to see ya for the piece of shit ya really are."

He looked around when he heard a noise, seeing you coming from a distance, and quickly moved to hide behind a nearby tree. His heart was racing in his chest; adrenaline and shame were rushing through his body, but he couldn’t let you see him; he couldn’t let you know that he was here, after all.

Daryl crouched down low, pressing his back against the bark of the tree he was leaning against. "Every damn night," he whispered quietly, "watchin’ her shadow. Shit, she doesn’t know. Fuckin’ hell, if she knew... I’m a goddamn creep. But I can’t stop. I just—I need to see her. Need to know she’s there."

His eyes followed you as you got closer, but he didn’t move. He was observing you and watching to see if you would notice the flower immediately, or if you wouldn’t until the next morning.

"She’s gotta know it’s me," Daryl thought, his mind racing and his body beginning to sweat all of a sudden. "She’s suspicious already. Can’t let her know the real reason why. She’d hate me for it."

His knuckles went white as he clenched his fists tightly. "I’m a fuckin’ idiot. That’s what I am. Tryin’ to make it right with damn flowers, but I’m still the asshole who’s watchin’ her like a damn perv. She’s got no idea," he whispered to himself again. "No fuckin’ clue what’s really goin’ on. Hell, if anyone 'round here knew, they’d run me outta camp. Can’t have that. Don’t want her to know; don’t want anyone to know."

"Why’d ya let things go this far?" He continued to tell himself. "Why’d ya let yerself get so fuckin' close to her? Ya think she’s gonna understand why yer such a fuckin' creep? Fuck, think again."

As you opened your tent, Daryl's eyes were watching you with nervousness. Even though he knew it was wrong, he was unable to accept the fact that he had been watching you most of the time at night, unable to take his eyes off your tent.

"Ain't gonna make excuses," he muttered. "Been an asshole, and I know it. Been watchin' her—sometimes even more than I should. Fuckin' hate myself for it. Every damn time I see her, she reminds me that I’m a damn bastard, and I can’t stand it."

Thoughts of how he had treated you kept coming back again and again to his mind. "I act like I don’t give a shit, but I do. Hell, I care more than I wanna admit. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so goddamn hard on her. Dunno. Maybe I thought it’d keep me from feelin'... this way."

Daryl stayed right where he was, watching you leave your tent open as you eventually got inside. "Fuck," he whispered to himself. "This ain't right. She deserves better than this. Deserves someone who’s not a fuckin' creep. Can’t help it. I keep comin' back here, leavin' these stupid fuckin' flowers, hopin' she might see some part of me that’s not completely fucked up."

He sighed, feeling his thoughts pressing down on him. "Yer a mess, Dixon. And ya know it. Yer leavin' flowers to try to make up for yer own damn behavior, and it ain't ever gonna be enough."

Upon entering your tent, you did notice the flower that was lying by the entrance. In fact, the flower was too familiar, and the thought of Daryl lurking around nearby made you shiver, but you didn’t acknowledge the flower directly. Rather, you purposefully chose to ignore it because Shane's remarks regarding Daryl had made you feel a little uneasy, which you could not quite shake, but it also somehow excited you to no end.

"Alright, let’s make this good, and let’s see if he really is sneaking around here," you then murmured to yourself with a smirk on your lips as you thought about your plan. "I’m gonna give him a show he won’t forget anytime soon."

You began to undress slowly, your fingers sliding over your skin as you glanced at the open gap of the tent, a deliberate choice to keep it ajar.

"Is this what you want, Daryl?" You whispered to yourself as you pulled off your shirt and slid your jeans down. "Do you want to see me like this?"

With every piece of clothing that you let fall to the ground, the blush on your cheeks turned redder. The thought of him possibly watching you from the shadows, all hidden and quiet, made you shiver with excitement and nervousness, because of the other dangers that might be hidden in the shadows. “Don’t think about anything else right now; I’m safe. I’m safe.”

Your fingers fumbled with the hooks of your bra, and you let it fall from your shoulders before you squeezed your breasts with your hands, the feeling of your fingertips brushing over your hardening nipples making you moan. "Look at me," you murmured, "see how I’m touching myself, how I’m getting so fucking wet because of you right now."

Your hand slid down your stomach, your fingers sliding into your panties, with the wetness of your pussy making you gasp as you started to rub your clit in slow circles. "You like this, don’t you? Watching me at night, knowing I’m thinking of you?"

You soon pulled your panties down your legs and tossed them aside, showing yourself off completely before you laid down and spread your legs, giving a full view of your wet pussy. With two fingers, you traced the outer folds before slipping them inside, letting out a quiet moan. "I know you’re out there," you whispered, "watching every fucking move I make."

As you began to fuck yourself slowly, your other hand continued to pinch and tease your nipples. "I can almost feel your eyes on me," you mumbled, "watching as I fuck myself. Is it turning you on, Daryl? I bet you're already so fucking hard."

You added another finger inside, curling them slightly to stretch yourself more and tease your G-spot with each thrust. "I bet you’re dying to feel what this is like," you taunted quietly, "to be so so fucking deep inside me right here, right now."

Your fingers moved faster, your hips moving in time with the thrusts of your fingers, and you were already getting closer to the edge just by thinking about the fact that Daryl was probably watching you. "I bet you’re imagining how fucking tight I’d be around you," you moaned. "I know you’re just as fucking turned on as I am."

Among the trees, Daryl remained hidden in the shadows. His eyes were locked on you, unable to look away even as his heart pounded violently in his chest. The way your fingers moved over your breasts, the playful, almost desperate way you touched your hard nipples—it drove him wild, and the image of you parting your pussy and pushing your fingers into yourself was nearly unbearable. Every little movement you made seemed to burn itself into his mind.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he mumbled while his gaze shifted a bit as he attempted to stand up from his position without making a sound. He forced himself to remain motionless, but his hand went almost automatically to his zipper.

The simple sight of you, all naked, completely defenseless, and so vulnerable, was making him lose his mind. He could see how your body tensed and arched with every touch, and his eyes tracked every movement of your fingers as they slid in and out of your pussy.

"Fuck, not again; why’m I doin' this?" Daryl grumbled to himself, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock inside his pants. "This ain’t right. She’s right there, and I’m just—fuck!"

He glanced down at his own body, his cock pushing hard against his pants. It wasn't easy to ignore the pulsing need that was building up inside him—a need that seemed to only grow with every quiet moan you let out. His heart was racing, and he could feel the sweat starting to run down his forehead.

Daryl’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of his pants; he was trying to calm himself down at first, but the sight of you getting yourself off was making it nearly impossible to think straight. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he muttered again, struggling to keep his breathing steady. "Ya can’t just give in. Not yet. Ya gotta keep control."

He watched you spread your legs wider, your fingers moving faster now, and it was all he could do to keep himself from making any noise. His eyes locked onto the way your body responded—how your hips bucked with each thrust of your fingers.

"Look at her. She’s so fuckin' beautiful," Daryl let out quietly. "So damn hot, and here I am, just watchin'. Like some sick fuckin' perv."

With a quiet, frustrated growl, he tried to regain control of himself, his hands clenching more tightly. Even though his cock was begging for attention, he was unable to let himself go.

"Keep it together, Dixon," he told himself, his voice trembling. "Yer not gonna just—give in. Not yet. Not like this. She’s... she’s right there. Goddamn it! Fuck!"

But Daryl's control was breaking fast, each breath that he took only making it harder to keep his impulses in check, and it was pushing him past the point of no return. The temptation was just too great, and he couldn't control himself any longer. His hands, which had been clenched tightly into fists, now finally moved to undo the zipper of his pants.

His cock sprang free, the sight of it being so hard making him shudder, and the moment his hand wrapped around it, he let out a quiet groan.

"Goddamn it," he mumbled, his voice full of frustration and lust as he started to stroke himself slowly. "She's gonna fuckin' kill me."

He couldn’t help but imagine your hands being on him—almost in the same way that you were touching yourself. He could hear your every moan, every breath, every whimper, and it only made him grip his cock tighter, his strokes becoming faster and more needy.

"I bet ya like that, don’t ya?" He grumbled to himself. "I bet ya fuckin' know I’m here."

It was impossible for him to ignore how badly he wanted to be the one touching you, to be the one making you sigh and moan for him.

"Jesus," he panted out and gasped. "Ya just keep fuckin' doin’ that, don’t ya, princess? Fuckin' hell..."

Struggling to remain silent, his free hand felt for the tree next to him, and he pressed it against the bark to steady himself. Though he was getting close to the edge and the tip of his cock was coated with pre-cum, he was determined not to cum just yet.

"Damn it, Dixon," he hissed at himself. "Look at ya, gettin' off to this all over again. Yer a fuckin' mess. Fuckin' pathetic."

There was still a part of him that wanted to stop, and he battled the shame and guilt that was building up and rising within him. But as your moans grew slightly louder and as you suddenly whispered his name into the darkness, it only pushed him further into his own desperate need.

"Hell’s she sayin'?" Daryl mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus and concentrate on your voice. "Shit, she’s sayin' my fuckin' name..."

The sound of his name on your lips, even if it was only a silent whisper, made his cock twitch and pulse, and his strokes became more urgent with the intense need to finally cum.

"Fuckin' hell," he growled, his breathing coming out even more uneven. "She's gonna make me lose my shit. Just... just keep talkin', princess."

The way you were saying his name, the thought of you knowing he was watching, made it impossible for him to stay still. Finally, he couldn’t resist any longer. He stepped closer, his throbbing cock in hand, and let out a growl to make you notice him as he slipped inside your tent. "Ya really thought ya could just tease me like this?"

With your fingers still buried deep inside of you, your eyes snapped open. "Daryl?" Even though you knew that he was watching you, you let out a gasp, and your voice trembled slightly.

"Yeah," he said, taking another step closer. There was something else that turned him on even more than just the shock he could see in your eyes. "Thought ya could put on a private show for me, huh?"

You swallowed hard, your eyes never leaving his as he stood directly over you, his cock still hard and pulsing with every stroke of his hand. "A show?" You asked, your voice sounding a little shaky.

"Damn right. A show," he answered with a small smirk. "With me seein’ everythin'. Couldn’t stay away."

You pulled your fingers out of your pussy and tried to stand up, but Daryl pushed you back down with one of his boots on your shoulder. "Stay where ya are," he growled. "Don’t ya dare stop."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as you looked up at him, your heart racing. The realization about the rawness of the moment hit you, and you nodded slowly, your fingers sliding back into your pussy as you lay back down in your tent. Your eyes were locked onto his, and he could see the mixed feelings of shock, excitement, and lust in your gaze.

Daryl’s hand soon moved in rhythm with yours again, his strokes becoming faster and more urgent as he watched you. The sight of you, so shameless and wet for him, made him lose himself even more. "Ya know," he said, his voice still low and rough. "Ain't thought I’d see this day. With yer all spread out like this, knowin' I’m here, watchin' ya fuckin’ yerself. 'S a damn mindfuck."

You moaned in response, your fingers working in and out of your pussy with an increasing speed of your thrusts. "And you think you can just walk in here?" You taunted back and teased him. "You think you’re gonna get what you want, Dixon?"

Daryl’s eyes never left yours, his cock throbbing with need. "Ain't just here for the damn show," he growled. "I’m here to fuckin' claim ya. Ya got that?"

Your eyes widened, and you barely held back a loud moan, your fingers pushing deeper into your pussy. "And what makes you think I’ll just let you?" You challenged him back, your eyes wandering from his cock to his face again.

"Oh, I think ya fuckin' will," Daryl said, his voice full of confidence. "'Cause I fuckin' want to. And it’s my turn to take what I want."

Every movement, every quiet moan, and every word you both whispered to each other heightened the lust and need for the both of you. Daryl’s strokes on his cock became more frantic, and he could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his balls growing with every stroke, but he was determined to hold off until he had fully taken in the sight of you.

"Gonna make sure ya know who’s watchin'," Daryl said quietly. "Gonna leave my mark on ya."

He positioned himself above you, and without saying another word, he pointed his cock at you, making sure that his cum would land where he wanted it to.

"I ain't done," he growled, his eyes locked on you. "Not yet."

He took another step closer, his hand still jerking his throbbing shaft, while his other hand reached out, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up slightly, just enough to make you look at him with wide eyes.

"Do ya want me to finish like this?" He mumbled, his voice already hoarse. "Or do ya want me to make a fuckin' mess 'round here in yer tent?"

You didn’t have a chance to answer before he let go of your hair and moved his cock closer to your body again. He had seen enough, felt enough—he was on the edge and couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a low groan, he started to jerk himself off harder and faster, his eyes never leaving yours, and without warning, he came hard, his hips bucking wildly and his cum shooting out, landing across your body, most of it on your breasts and chin.

"Fuck," he muttered, still stroking his cock, but slowing down. "Look at ya. Just a fuckin' mess now."

You lay there, slowly pulling your fingers out of your pussy, your body covered with his cum. "You know," you suddenly started, your voice quiet but teasing. "You might be the first wildflower that might leave a thorn in my side."

A smirk formed itself on Daryl's lips due to the mention of the flowers, but it was quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment, and he shifted uncomfortably as he put his cock back into his pants. "Shut ya damn mouth, woman."

Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed your head roughly by your hair, and yanked you up to meet his eyes. You couldn’t help but whimper as he was staring at you up and down, so dangerously close.

Daryl grinned at the noise you made and grabbed your neck with his other hand, the thumb going to your chin and gathering the rest of his cum that was slowly sliding down on it.

"Eat," he insisted, but before you could answer or protest in any way, he put his thumb against your lips and pushed it inside your mouth, waiting for you to suck it off.

And just as he pulled it out again, his mouth came crashing down on yours in a rough and primal kiss. It was demanding, and his teeth moved against your skin as he went down to the side of your jaw, sucking on every bit of flesh on his way down to your neck before biting down hard into it, leaving his mark.

His gaze then fell to your fingers, still glistening with the juices of your pussy, as he held you in a tight grip to keep you from falling due to your trembling legs. Slowly, teasingly, he reached out and brought your fingers to his mouth. His tongue slid over your skin, licking and sucking them off intensely, devouring every bit of what was left of you on them.

Daryl enjoyed the taste of you, and his eyes never left yours as he pulled back a little, his hand roughly grabbing your chin. "Don’t ya fuckin' forget this," he growled, letting go of you and watching as you stumbled back onto the ground in front of him before he finally turned to leave. "Yer mine in ways ya don’t even understand yet."

TAG-LIST: NONE. BECAUSE MY WRITING SUCKS.

[fishnapple]

How to love yourself better? A request letter from yourself. (Channelled message)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (Read this post : personal reading)

1. White

Dear myself,

If I could light a fire right now, I could, just to see if that fire can compete with my light, our light. And yet I got a feeling that fire will burn brighter than us, just because it had someone to start it. But ours didn't. We stowed our fire away, our light, for fear of burning the eyes of the world? Or for fear of being engulfed in the sea of darkness outside?

Have you ever seen a solar eclipse? People gathered to watch it, a brief moment of the sun being eaten. A brief moment. Imagine how the world would be if that brief moment turned into a very long moment, an eternal one? Panic, fear, despair. We have prolonged our solar eclipse for far too long, let the Sun has its shine. Does it sound arrogant when I talk of us as the Sun? No, you should get used to it. To be the light, the be seen. Even when the Sun seems like a solitary existence on the sky, it's not, so are we.

I wanted to tell you many beautiful words, give you praises and a pat on the head. Sounds embarrassing, right? We should learn to do that more often. And then practice it with other people too, we all need it sometimes, a lot of times.

Do you know what will happen when we turn the anger on ourselves? Somehow, it will ricochet inside us and finally shoot out at other people. It's painful, for us and for them. Let's hold it in our hands, watch it breathe and stroke it gently, find where does it hurt and tend to it, then poof- it's gone. You catch anger not by throwing it around and putting it in a cage but let it heal and fly away on its own.

I'm sure that sometimes you will find yourself drowning in life, in other people's water. Losing yourself could be your worst nightmare. But you will never lose me. It's odd how we're surrounded by people but feel like we are alone in our struggle. Where did all the people go? Are they also drowning like us? In a different sea? I hope that all the seas are connected to each other so we can all find others to swim with us.

Till the next sun rise, yourself.

2. Pink

Oh, how I want to just throw away everything and run barefoot on the sand. To lie face up, watching the clouds passing by for hours. To paint the wall bright pink and yellow (this combination might hurt your eyes if you stare too long, though). But we're not a kid anymore, or so people have told us, much like how we've told ourselves, convinced ourselves to behave.

It's fascinating to watch the process of our resistance to what is taught to us. Why do we resist it so much? It feels like being gravely offended. We have our principles, and now we have to listen to others telling us what is right? What is wrong? Let me tell you, in a small whisper, it's actually nice to listen. Just listening, not obeying. It will feel like swallowing a rock. Maybe we could learn from the chickens a little, metaphorically. They swallow small rocks to aid in healthy digestion. So let's swallow some of the hard lessons.

You always like to think in concrete fashion. You try to touch your thoughts with your own hands and knead them, mould them into whatever you want. And when you're dropped into a relationship with someone, you find yourself lost that ability. It's all a jumble mess. You find your hands reaching out, grasping for something. How about the other person? Are you afraid that you will lose yourself if you hold on to them? It's fine, you won't. It's just an outdated belief that you've held on for far too long.

As we were talking about swallowing, you may want to watch what you're swallowing into your stomach, literally. Watch what you eat! Don't make yourself, ourselves suffer by bringing unhealthy things into our body. We may want to live long, you know.

Hey, if you find a dance class is too embarrassing, how about we turn off the light and dance with each other in the middle of the night. Nobody will know, but we will feel good (I'm not trying to be a flirt with myself here)

Your best friend, love.

3. Red

Make me a cup of tea, please.

Let's have a chat, just us, lying around lazily, sipping our favourite tea, imagining some weird scenarios to entertain us, playing some puzzle.

I don't have much to tell you because we talk to each other every day and I know you always try to be better for us. I love you and I'm proud of you. Let's be vain and give ourselves applause every day. Make it a pinky promise.

A reminder when you're feeling sluggish and slow, we are going to exactly where we need to be. You are guided and protected.

Keep on shining and be the little kid that runs around in the rain.

I love it when you're running wild, letting yourself, me, free, splashing colours everywhere. I just want to grab other people's hands and drag them to the dance. I love it when you're laughing, loudly, even better when you jolted others around you, oh, their surprised look, priceless.

Just be sure to take care of your body. Don't over tasking them. Work hard, play hard, but rest hard also.

Have you been thinking about going on a trip somewhere? No? Then, allow me to make a gentle request. Let me put the idea in your head. Go on, go to wherever you're thinking, there might be a surprise waiting for us, *hint: it will make our heart flutter*.

Let's make it a ritual to go on a trip every year. Let's give our mind and spirit a makeover. Dust off any tangled mess we have and prepare a space for new things to come into. I'm so excited.

It's got me thinking lately, there's this small blinking light in the back of our mind, sometimes I can see it, sometimes I can't. I want to find out what it is. It's like a signal, trying to reach us, can you feel it? Sometimes, there's this odd feeling swelling inside that you can't put your hand on and naming it. I think if we can sit still, quiet, in the dark, we could see it better. It's guiding us. To where? I got a feeling that it's somewhere deep, somewhere with a treasure, waiting for us. If we can uncover it, it will be the greatest gift that the universe has ever given us. So let's go and find it.

Love, myself.

4. Green

I have some news for you. Brace yourself for changes. They're coming, very fast, very soon. Sit yourself tight. I don't want to give spoilers, but I guess we will receive some sudden confessions or offers. What you will do with those confessions is completely your choice. You don't have to feel guilty if you don't return their feelings, my dear.

I think the way the universe is sending us this kind of surprise is telling us to reconsider our 'single' thinking mode. We have stood alone, strong and independent for so long, I think it actually makes us a little too comfortable in being alone that the thought of getting into a connection with someone can be daunting. Will we lose our freedom? What if we are dependent on them? This time, the universe is saying: 'you and your worries will not make a good journey together, break up with those worries, here, I will throw in some opportunities for you to practice '.

If you don't want romantic connection at the moment, fine, different types of connections will come. No matter what, the universe is determined to get us involved with other people. It's for our own good. I have to admit that it's hard. It's not easy to change our way of thinking and believing. So surprises will be needed.

When opportunities come, the gate is opened, we just need to receive them. Walking through the gate will feel like walking out of a confinement into the wild, lively world outside. We will be propelled into a new path that we hadn't even considered in the past. Beware of what you said in the past about how you don't want to do something, you can't imagine yourself doing something. Well, guess what, we are going to do just that, joke on us.

So, in the meantime, even if you're resisting, it's fine. Just take care of yourself, of us. Obsessive worrying can sadden our body.

Something is going away, giving space to a new energy coming in. This new energy will be softer, more loving. The harshness of the past will go away soon. Trust me.

Love, Your companion.

[xueyidweams]

you’re a memokeeper, a pretty strong one at that. you’ve had your eye on this pretty but cunning gambler for a while; fate always seemed to bring you two to the same place. you see him drinking away at a bar one day, you’ve been visiting Penacony for some time and know that the bar plays tango every week on this day so— why not use it as an opportunity to get into that pretty brain of his?

You put on your sultry voice, your body language relaxed and elegant as aventurine eyes you up after your invite for a dance. he accepted, took your hand and let you whisk him away to the dance floor. whether because he thinks of this as networking or simple pleasure of having one’s body close to another is of no matter to you. you give him a small smile as you slide your hands up and down his arms slowly, sensually. there’s no denying that, you aren’t trying to, how can anyone resist those eyes anyways? you make sure that every touch, every brush of your bodies is deliberate and with a purpose. push into his mind, you think as you dip him and he looks into your eyes. tipsy but not drunk and clearly enjoying this if him bouncing back to you every time you twirl him away is any sign.

his eyes are truly beautiful, yet terrifying. just from one look at his eyes there has been a tug at your heart, its painful, its of love and its of struggle and its strong yet oh so weak. You twirl him and dip him, your fingers curling around his waist, faces too close for this to be anything but flirting and chasing.

and you finally do it, you truly look into his eyes as you two are twirling each other in a warm yet unfamiliar way.

at first your heart is warm, your— no his mother’s voice filling your ears. her scent is so comforting, so familiar, so strange and so distant that you don’t even know if you can call her your mother. your heart screams with grief, tears itself apart with guilt and your soul bears its fangs with vengeance as you’re in a deserted place… your sister is crying and you don’t know what’s going on but it hurts so much to see tears on her face..

aventurine has taken the lead by now, your slightly limp movements and glazed eyes telling him all he needs to know and yet, he doesn’t hide his wounds and cuts. he lets you see him bare, he lets you look at his disgusting self— a gambler damned to always win, a kid with no one to embrace in the thick and suffocating darkness. he lets you see it, he lets you look and he doesn’t know why. maybe the alcohol. maybe.

your heart hurts so much, your soul wails and your teeth tear and bite as you kill others just like you… they had dreams they had families and now they had no one— just like you. and yet you had to kill them, if you want to make it out of here alive and burn everyone who has led you to this moment— you had to live and step on people just like you. the emotions are too much to bear, it should be a memokeeper’s dinner but it’s filled with such despair that your brain refuses to take it and you’re breathlessly pushed back to reality, the song on its final note, aventurine’s eyes looking deep into yours. your tears filled with pain that you have not experienced, filled with vengeance and anger that burns and yet it is not yours. and yet it hurts like it is.

he sees your tear stained face, pulls you up from the dip and you feel the brush of his finger and the coolness of his rings on your burning skin, and when he speaks his voice is filled with such mundane sadness that it tears you apart, “so what do you think, memokeeper?”

[randomshyperson]

I'll Crawl Home To Her - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: A rewrite of the fight scene in WandaVision, with a less aggressive but equally painful discussion. 

Warnings: canon-typical Westview angst, talking about magical submission and free will, established relationship, some grief mentions, rough kissing just because I can, love confessions/reaffirmations | Words: 1.644k

A/N-> I'm just rewriting loose scenes from WandaVison, none of which are really going to end up in anything bigger. But I hope it's a decent read. 

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

“It’s not often that you get a dog and bury them the same day.”

To your line, Wanda could have chosen to mumble in agreement. She could have said she was sorry, or she could have chosen to remain silent.

Instead, she chooses sarcasm, as if she had a good idea of how ridiculous everything was starting to get around that town.

“Well, life moves pretty fast out in the suburbs.”

You end up sighing, able to feel the anger slowly building up in you. Wanda continues to put toys away, and you decide to wipe your hands on the nearest dishcloth before turning to your wife.

"I spoke to Norm this morning." You start with a serious look on your face, and Wanda, oh your beautiful, stubborn wife, makes a mocking expression. You don't understand why she's acting this way. "He told me things that really frightened me, Wanda."

It was her turn to take a deep breath, the confidence in her expression wavering for a second. There was only one balcony between the two of you, but somehow the emotional distance was immeasurably greater.

Wanda looks you in the eye. "What's that supposed to mean, darling?"

“You tell me.”  You hit back without hesitation. But what you get from Wanda is a tired sigh, falsely innocent.

"I didn't know it was charades night again." She continues to mock. 

You can't remember if Wanda was ever cruel, but it's a fact that you can't remember anything that happened before Westview.

"I got scared because he was scared, Wanda!" You insist, approaching the counter to lean on one hand, while the other gestures your despair. "It was like a different person, a real, suppressed personality crying out to be released. It was accidental, of course, to discover this. But I'm not an idiot, Wanda. I can see what you're doing. The things that are changing around us every time something gets out of your control. And I don't understand why, and you won't talk to me, and I'm so scared!"

The tears in your eyes match hers. "Stop." She pleads earnestly, but you shake your head.

"You don't want this." You say.

Despite the emotion in her eyes, and the thick tears, Wanda gives a short, ironic laugh, her head tilting slightly. "Don't I?"

"If you did, I wouldn't know. I wouldn't be able to see, to question.” You sigh.”You’ve always been so... extraordinary." Her expression suddenly flinches at the compliment. "Your abilities, your power, I can't tell what happened before this place, but I know about now. There's not a trace of doubt in my mind about you, about how magnificently powerful I've always perceived you to be. Not even about how much I love and trust you." Wanda swallows dryly at your words, but you give a sad sigh. "Then I don't understand why you keep letting me see the flaws. If you're going to lie to me, leave me in the dark. Because I think I'm losing my mind little by little. I can't ignore the suffering of those people, and I can't ignore the uncertainty that grows in my chest every second. I can't remember anything, Wanda. I see those pictures on our walls, those fabricated memories, and nothing reaches me. I can't even recall if I had any kind of family before this place."

Wanda comes around the counter with a certain desperation, her hands reaching for your face. "You have a family. Me and the boys, why can't that be enough?"

Your hands reach for hers. "It's not that, sweetheart. Our family is perfect. This life is the closest to heaven I could get. But I can't be at peace with it at the cost of other people's suffering. I can't ignore their pain."

"I'll help you think of something else." She responds with a nod, pulling your face in to kiss you firmly.

Kissing Wanda has always been intoxicating, a sensation that's easy to get lost in. But fresh in your mind is your coworker, terrified and begging you to get away from this place. Get away from your wife.

You pull away, breaking the kiss and ignoring the way your whole body protests. Wanda is equally out of breath, but the gleam in her eyes hides a deep irritation.

"Wanda, I-

"Save it." She interrupts, turning her back on you. You catch a glimpse of a new form of anger and hurt in her eyes at being rejected. You sigh impatiently, following her instantly. 

"You're not going to run away from this conversation, Wanda, I need to know what's going on in this place!" You practically beg, yelling at her back because Wanda just keeps walking towards the stairs. You huff angrily and teleport immediately into her path. She jumps slightly in fright, grimacing with impatience and taking two steps backward, away from the steps as you insist; "Please. Talk to me."

"There's nothing to say if you don't believe me when I tell you there's nothing wrong." But you shake your head at the words, one hand pulling your hair back. Wanda chuckles humorlessly.  "See, you already have an opinion on the subject. On me. I'm already the villain in your story, darling, so why don't you keep digging behind my back and end this whole thing?"

She mentions going upstairs again, but you stand in her way, one hand pulling her face towards yours. The kiss is more intense than the one in the kitchen, heated enough for Wanda to gasp into your mouth.

She's ready to reciprocate with the same eagerness when you break it, the hand on her cheek caressing her skin.

"Because I love you, Wanda Maximoff." You whisper against her lips, and it's not just the words, but the devotion in your gaze that makes Wanda's legs wobble. You offer her a small smile, an air of lost battle in your expression. "There is no part of me that would plan and act against you. Even here, with the truth scratching at the walls, where I could if I wanted to access the suffering of these people, I wouldn't turn against you. I can only beg for a little mercy, my love. Take the pain away from me, the doubt. I will be loyal and complicit in any of your desires and decisions."

Wanda sobs, hugging you before you can say anything. You can't remember anything that came before, but she can, as clearly as if she were there. And Wanda loved every trace of your old self as much as she loves this Westview version, willing to do anything she asks. It's not so different from the person she lost, with the most striking exception that makes it clear in that moment, that nothing could ever replace the real you. 

You would have taken Wanda out of that fantasy. For better or worse, even if she hated you afterward, even if she never forgave you, you wouldn't let her cross lines through grief, you wouldn't let her lose herself again. After all, that's what you swore to do after witnessing first-hand all the guilt she carried for Ultron's madness and the accident in Lagos. Your true version would never let her drown in sorrow and hurt people again.

But the Westview version, so sweet and devoted, would stroke her back and say the same thing you always used to say, even if now you can't remember it.

"I'm sorry if I made you cry, princess, I never meant to. Look at me so I can bring your smile back."

Wanda holds on a little tighter, tears staining your blouse. The vast majority of the times she had heard this phrase, it had been at much less dramatic moments. While she had a passion for sitcoms and things that made her laugh, you liked more emotional movies that could make you cry. And every time you had a movie session, you would tell her that, easily achieving your goal of putting a smile on your girlfriend's face. But there were also times when the situations were dramatic - a poorly planned workout where Wanda ended up hurting you and tears of guilt escaped her and you tried to make her feel better by saying that same phrase. Or when you had a fight and it got a bit out of hand, and you started your apologies that way.

Or when Thanos took you from her, and Wanda had to hear it twice because of a time stone.

She doesn't want to hear it for a third occasion. 

You're ready to say something, maybe apologize, when Wanda breaks the hug. But she holds your cheeks and presses her mouth to yours. Slowly, allowing you to taste even the saltiness of her tears. There's a shaky sigh escaping from between your lips as she breaks away again, but your affected gaze changes to a curious one as red irises stare back at you.

"I'll make it better." She whispers, nodding slightly. You swallow dry, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against hers.

The only thing you whisper is exactly what makes her hesitate. "I trust you, Wanda."

She ignores the internal conflict and lifts one of her hands to stroke the back of your neck. It must be easy, especially within Hex, to change your mind. To make you no longer question.

You repeat that you love her, and Wanda brings trembling fingers to your forehead. 

She suddenly becomes very aware that consciously, she could never do that to you. She would rather you found out everything and hated her than take away your free will. To turn you into another puppet.

She sighs shakily, ready to say she'll put an end to this whole place when the doorbell rings.

Nothing could prepare her for seeing her twin brother again, but that's another story. Besides, not that Wanda has any idea, far away from there, a fallen Avenger is being stitched back together while calling her name in their sleep.

[perfectlyoongi]

A CONFIRMATION - Yoongi, wc: 1.020, u know the drill -just trust me.

The rain was heavy, loud, noisy, attacking the windows with the fury of anguish that lingered in the grey, thick, resentful clouds of that night. The wind was pressing, setting in the streets and neighborhoods of the city, devouring all the life it saw, envious of its simplicity and eternity.

But the real storm had originated in your house, in your room, mere words ago.

“You always knew that, didn’t you?”

Your eyes burned with the pain of betrayal, red with the aggression of hurt, tearful with the intensity of agony.

“It has always been my knowledge, yes.”

Always.

Your started to walk around your room, trying to release some of your anger in the hurried steps you took, painting tumultuous paths between your bed and the door over and over and over again.

“And didn’t you think it was better to tell me that before we went this far? Before I gave myself completely to you?”

You spoke to yourself, letting all your frustrations escape your lips. It was a song of despair, a symphony of regret running away from you with every step, every word, every tear trapped in your eyes.

How could’ve you been so dumb?

You knew it was a mistake. Your whole story – a mistake. From the moment you allowed yourself to fall in love with Yoongi to the moment you let yourself be carried away by his hollow, empty, manipulative words that involved you in a relationship too perfect, too beautiful, too good to be true – or sincere.

How could’ve you been so naïve?

How did you allow yourself to be carried away by promises addressed to the stars, how did you allow yourself to fall into confessions declared to the skies? Nothing he said, nothing he confessed to you, was directed at you. All the words he said to you were never really meant for you – they were always given to the possibility of the universe, offered to the infinity of time and space, never lingering in the moment, in you.

“Tell you… what?”

You stopped walking and looked at Yoongi, his eyes closed in pure confusion, his speech too light to be a tease or a lie.

“What do you mean what?” you huffed and sat on the bed, tired, hurt, broken. How your head hurt at that moment. “I asked you if you liked me, if you loved me.”

“Yes.”

Yoongi was still confused, an almost comical expression on his face as he tried to follow your reasoning, all is intellect practically nil when it came to you, to your relationship.

“You said no.”

“Oh!” Yoongi sat beside you when your explanation lightened a little the darkness in which you had left him. “I don’t love you because I believe that’s not enough.”

You looked at him in the middle of the storm, the rain slackening in line with Yoongi’s words, the wind momentarily withdrawing so that the following words could be heard clearly and without any hitch. That moment belonged to Yoongi, and the universe, devoted to your love, complicit in your passion, was ready to praise the true feelings that were in his soul, in his heart.

“Love ends up dying one day. A lie, a betrayal, or simply because it ceased to exist. Love is ephemeral. And what I feel for you, what we have, I know will transcend our time and the entire universe.”

“That doesn’t justify your reaction, why you were so rude when you know what it means to me.”

You never forced him to use the three words that flowed so freely from your lips whenever you saw him. You never forced him to be uncomfortable around you for your sake. But all you asked, all you wanted, was a confirmation of a question. A simple ‘yes’. And he attacked you with the cruelty of his thoughts, with the intellectuality of his feelings.

“I want to give you everything. I want to do everything for you. But I can’t give you what you ask, I don’t know how to give it to you. For now.”

For now. But already a little late.

Tears finally began to flow as the rain finally stopped. Looking at Yoongi, seeing how naturally he handled that argument, it was too much for your already broken heart.

There was a long pause.

“But I want you to understand what goes on inside me. I want you to know what I really feel. It’s not love, because I don’t believe in the existence of something so small and strong. It’s something big, that contains multitudes and that doesn’t fit in me. It’s something that forces me to confess to the stars, to promise the sky a continuation in the next life because this one is too small to love you completely, to love you as you should be loved. I am devoted to you, completely surrendered to you and your existence, bewitched by your soul.”

Yoongi had held your face in the middle of his speech, forcing you to look into his eyes, into his soul, and realize that only truth was uttered by him.

His thumbs wiped away your tears, smoothing your cheeks with the care of someone who really cares, someone who really loves.

“But if you prefer, I’ll say it. With all the letters and syllables, in as many languages as you want.”

But you shook your head and, in a last effort at comfort, you let your head hide in Yoongi’s chest, allowing him to envelop you in a tight embrace, feeling the pieces of your heart come together again with each caress given by Yoongi.

And, in the warmth of each other’s arms, you and Yoongi shared the rest of the night in the silence of your room and in the calm that came after the storm outside, letting the sounds of the city lull you into a necessary sleep, letting the love between you covered yourselves in that small space, with the assurance that your feelings had been heard, understood, accepted. After all, there were many ways to say you loved someone.

[walkingzombiegirl]

"Does it hurt?" Satoru whispered, staring down at his hands still shoved into fists turned white with anger. With despair. With the gut wrenching twist he hadn't felt in so long and that he silently had wished he'd never have to feel again.

The world danced around you both, the clanging and yells of pain and triumph ricocheting through the cold air. It complimented the smell of blood and look of it as it ran down the sides of your white shirt, sinking into the ground with a kiss. One soaked in death.

"Only a little." He heard you whisper, his eyes, though covered, were all on you. Bright and beautiful and all at once, just as he always was. You grinned at them, and he wondered how.

"You're dying." He stated coldly, staring at the sky. He couldn't ask the clouds to bring you back down when you finally left the body behind him. He couldn't beg or plead or threaten them with his name or his sight. They would laugh in his face, just as they had before.

"I know." You replied, a small choke passing your lips that glistened with the same crimson as below. "Nothing a cursed technique or a shot of liquor could do for me now... it's my time you know."

His jaw clenched, oh you, darling, you and those tricky letters, how he hated when you said those words. From sorcerer to sorcerer, each dropped at their time and he was made to watch you tremble, to shake his head but refuse to question whatever god or deity or force would will it upon his friends so young. Their time. Such a small clock. Such little hands. So why did it seem like his was so large? Still ticking and ticking and driving him forward while all of those were left at numbers behind him.

"I-" "Hate that phrase... I know." You choked again, but this time you didn't stop, coughing and seizing, his body reflexively turning around to help you. But there was nothing he do. Not then, not now.

"One day, you'll learn to accept it." He swore he wouldn't, because if seeing that light in your eyes dim in the way all six of them watched now meant that he would have to tell that force it was right, he would take an oath of silence for life.

"You will. You've already begun too."

Those words haunted him. They haunted him the few hours between the moment you laid in his arms until the moment you were back in them.

The clouds had room for more, it seemed.

[belovedmusings]

“I’m not going anywhere.”

+ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS +

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Satoru survived being severed in half thanks to Yuuta’s Reversed Curse Technique and subsequently claimed victory, but you keep reliving the moment you saw him die before your eyes. You wake up beside him one night crying from a nightmare of it, and wanting to make you feel better and remind you that he’s okay and he’s not going anywhere, he lets you take him any way you need him.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader with minimal gendered language, reader insert without using “y/n”, graphic nightmare at the beginning but it’s quick, fix-it, hurt/comfort, soft and emotional sex, handjob, fingering, Satoru’s 6-inch fingers, slow sex, praises and declarations of love, lots of kissing, love bites, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, Satoru’s big cock :’) <3

Music recommended while reading: My Love (Sia), positions (Ariana Grande), Souvenir (Selena Gomez), Religion (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: no I’m absolutely not over wtf happened in ch 236 and yes I’m 100% crazy enough to still believe him when he said he’d win. He’ll win and I trust him. I have to or I’ll go crazy. Here’s this emotional smut to cope.

Read below cut:

He was winning. He was fine, he was smiling and now—

He’s not. He’s not moving, he’s not doing anything but he’s in half he’s in fucking half and there’s so much blood—

You scream. You scream but it sounds like it’s underwater and you can’t breathe, you can’t feel anything but despair and pain and dread and anger and disbelief and fucking devastation. Satoru is— he’s— oh god, he’s—

“Hey.”

You’re sobbing. Tears stream from your eyes but you can’t feel, you can’t see anything, you can’t hear, you can’t exist without him—

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”

That voice snaps you back to consciousness, a deep gasp from you following. Warm hands are on your shoulders, and you look up at the source, eyes landing upon Satoru’s concerned face. His beautiful, alive face. What? How?

“Hey,” he murmurs again softly, brows furrowed in worry as he rubs up and down your arm soothingly. “Shh, shh, shh…you’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”

A dream?

“No it wasn’t,” you shake your head, voice broken. The lump in your throat won’t go away as you continue to cry. “You were…you were gone and I—”

“I’m right here,” he cuts him firmly, squeezing your arm. “Look at me. I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I’m fine. Promise.”

Your eyes search his face, his body, and blindly you reach out, touching his clothed abdomen, feeling over it to make absolutely sure he’s not lying. When you feel nothing but solid, warm flesh underneath, even when you touch down to his thigh, you relax, sniffling. He’s completely intact. He’s okay.

You remember then what had happened after he had fallen. You’d gone into a panic, threw up, and blacked out after sobbing uncontrollably after tearing your eyes from the screen that displayed his lifeless body.

When you woke up, you were lying against a wall, Shoko watching over you, telling you that Yuuta managed to get ahold of him while Yuuji and Higuruma were fighting Sukuna. He’d used his Reversed Curse Technique to heal him, and he was up and fighting again, this time facing off with Kenjaku.

It was jarring to see him back alive, like you were seeing the resurrection of a god. But it was okay. He was even stronger than before, and along with the others, he was capable of defeating both of the threats.

His victory had restored balance once more.

He’d come off of that battlefield on his own two feet, sweaty, heavily banged up and exhausted, but he had a brilliant smile on his face that said everything is fine now, and he’d welcomed you into his arms without hesitation.

“Oh god,” you breathe out, “It was a dream. Thank god.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in, planting a kiss on your temple.

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He asks, “You gotta trust me, silly. M’ not going anywhere.”

You huff, nuzzling into his chest. “Don’t call me silly because I’m worried about you.”

He sighs softly, rubbing your back. “Fine, fine. But seriously, I’m fine. So no need to worry, okay? I’m right here, however you need me.”

He is. You can feel him in your arms, you can feel him holding you, and yet in your sleep-fogged mind, you can’t help but still retain some anxiety that you’ll wake up again and he’ll be gone for good. That you imagined all of those victories in order to cope. You need to feel more of him to confirm he’s real.

“However I need you?” You ask, drawing back to meet his eyes, gleaming in the dim lighting of the moon. He nods.

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be otherwise? I’m yours to do with as you please.”

You can’t help it; his tone always brings out a special playfulness in you. “As I please? You sound so easy.”

“Easy for you,” he grins wolfishly, and you roll your eyes fondly before sobering up.

“I need more reassurance,” you tell him. “I want to feel you.”

He eyes you curiously, nodding. “Sure thing. What do you have in mind?”

You reach up to touch his face, brushing your thumb between his eyebrows to work out the furrow, then dancing it over his brow bone, then his cheekbone, and finally his lips. You pad it over the soft skin there before leaning up and kissing him, relaxing at the familiar taste of his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, lips moving with yours in a combination of slow and sensual.

The hand that was resting on his jaw slowly travels down over his neck, where your thumb runs over the column gently, grazing his Adam’s apple a few times before moving on to his collarbone. You explore that spot for a few moments and then massage down his shoulder, over his pec, flattening your palm to feel the beat of his heart.

It calms you to feel that strong thump thump thump against your touch, impassioning you enough to make you deepen the kiss and slip your tongue into his protestless mouth. A soft groan sounds at the back of his throat, and that spurs you on to continue touching him, running your palm over his muscles that were once lithe, but after time spent preparing for battle while he was sealed away to occupy himself, have turned thick and solid. You ghost over the ridges of his abdomen and shiver, feeling each contour through his shirt.

It sends a wave of heat through you and your ministrations turn heavy with desire, finding the hem of his shirt, sliding your hand underneath it and massaging over the hot skin of his naked chest. He groans and guides his own hand from your waist to your ass, clad only in underwear for comfort to sleep, giving it a generous knead.

“Mmh,” you breathe into his mouth, letting him go further to grab your thigh, hooking his hand under your knee and hiking your leg up around his hip.

His tongue runs over yours dirtily as his hand slides back up to the apex of your legs, reaching around to cup your mound through the thin garment over it. His middle and ring fingers massage over that little sensitive pearl just begging to be touched, making you moan softly.

Your lust is deepening by the second and it makes you grow bolder, palm on his abdomen lowering to the front of his boxers and caressing the sizable hardness it finds there. Subconsciously you start to move your hips with his touches, kiss turning sloppy the more you pleasure each other.

The drags of his fingertips get a little too difficult when the fabric over your core gets soaked through, so he easily amends it by slipping his fingers beneath the edge of the article, touching you without any barriers.

“Satoru,” you moan louder as he teases the swollen pearl beneath his digits. He hums in his throat, and wanting to even things out, your hand dips below his boxers, wrapping around the hard and hot erection he’s been sporting since you started kissing him.

A bead of precum at his tip makes the slide a little easier and you feel him start rocking into your hand, meeting your strokes, a breathy groan sounding from him.

He wants the upperhand, of course, so he elects to push two of his lengthy fingers into your entrance, causing you to gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate. The man’s digits are long enough to reach your cervix without even trying and he presses pointedly against it, wriggling the tips of his fingers against that sensitive spot teasingly.

“God, Satoru,” you mewl, touching him with more purpose, circling your thumb over his tip.

“Ngh,” he groans in response, moving his hand so that he starts finger-fucking you at a pace, the wet sounds reaching your ears along with the heavy pants from the both of you. You clench around him and he speeds up, abusing that part deep inside of you just with his hand.

You love it when he fingers you but it’s not what you want right now—not truly.

You look up at him, shuddering at the look of unbridled lust pooling in his cerulean eyes. He always gets this certain wild look that gives you goosebumps.

“Satoru,” you manage breathlessly.

“Yeah?” He asks, just as winded.

“I want you inside me. I need to feel you.”

He sucks in a breath and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling his fingers out of you. He rolls to lay on his back, raising his hand up to his mouth and running his long tongue over the digits coated in your essence, a deep groan sounding after. It invigorates your desire for him and hurriedly, you remove your soaked underwear, freeing him of his own boxers afterward.

He sits up for a moment to get his shirt off, tossing it off the bed and then grabbing your hips, making you straddle his thighs. His hands hook under your shirt and you raise your arms so that he can remove it, the two of you now bare as the day you were born.

He wastes no time in kissing you again, this time more desperately, using one hand to guide your hips over his large cock, the other holding it still. He slides inside as you lower yourself, girth forcing you to stretch generously.

“Fuck,” you breathe into his mouth. You’re familiar with his impressive size by now but it never ceases to light a fire with your nerve-endings, length stuffing you full even before he’s bottomed out. You shudder and push him down to lay out on the bed, following him, breaking the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck. His palms grip the tops of your thighs as you lay on his chest, your skin touching everywhere. He’s so warm and sturdy beneath you, you feel like you could stay like this forever, tucked into him, split open on his dick, nestled deep inside you without any effort. You breathe in and get hit with the scent of his skin, musky and sweet in a way that’s unique only to him and completely intoxicating to you.

You push your nose more greedily into the column of his neck, moaning as he starts rolling both of your hips together slowly. Like this, his abdomen provides the perfect firm muscle to grind your swollen pearl on, heightening your pleasure.

He bends his legs to provide himself with a little barrier so that when he pushes your hips down, they don’t have anywhere to go, forcing you to take his cock deeper. It prods at your cervix and forces hot chills over your body, your hands bracing on his shoulders helplessly as he does all of the work.

You inhale deeply as he grinds up into you, walls fluttering around him, eliciting a groan from his syrupy voice.

It sends a shiver through you and wanting to chase it, you flick your tongue out over his collarbone, licking along the flesh to taste him.

“Oh,” he grunts, sucking air through his teeth as you feel him twitch inside of you. Encouraged from his response, you do it again, closing your lips around the spot and sucking. A stuttered breath is pulled from him, your hold on his arms tightening.

Like this, you just feel so safe, so content. He’s all you could ever need. Sure, he’s insufferable sometimes and his personality goes overboard naturally, but he’s never too much for you. He’s serious when he needs to be and so sincere in his sweetness, in his affection—you don’t know what you’d do without him. You thank any god that might exist along with the stars that he survived, that he prevailed and that everything is fine now. Your chest swells with all of the gratitude in the world and it spills over.

“Satoru,” you breathe, feeling tears prick at your eyes, “I love you so much.”

You feel him swallow thickly as his hands rub comfortingly up and down the expanse of your back, kisses being pressed to the top of your head.

“Me too, baby,” he replies softly, voice slightly strained with the distraction of heat around his cock. “I feel the exact same way about you.”

You sigh shakily, littering sloppy, wet kisses over his neck, starting to roll your hips in time with his.

“I’m always gonna be here,” he continues between labored pants, “You…you can’t get rid of me. Mmh—you’re stuck with me for life.”

Your kisses begin to be accompanied by involuntary whimpers, the sensation of him locked inside of you along with his smooth skin rubbing against your sensitive bud starting to overwhelm you.

“I’m gonna…h-hah…love you so much you’ll be annoyed with me,” he continues, sucking air through his teeth, “oh fuck…so glad I have you. I really am.”

You sniffle, a watery smile spreading over your lips. A few tears escape your eyes but this time they’re of joy.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you say with your entire soul.

“Nothing can keep me down for long,” he assures you, “I promise, okay? I promise.”

You nod against his neck, moaning when he speeds up, hands controlling your movements to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Sh-shit, Satoru,” you mewl, feeling your climax start to approach. His breathing gets heavier and more ragged, chest rising and falling so prominently that it jostles you on top of him, indicating that he’s just as wrecked as you are.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he exhales thinly, “Oh shit, shit, god you’re so tight…I’m gonna…”

You choke on a gasp, eyes squeezing shut. He always rambles when he’s nearing his finish, control on his words slipping, and you think it’s the hottest thing in the world.

“Ngh,” he gasps out, guiding you faster on top of him. You clench at the feeling, nearing the peak—“oh fuck, it’s gonna, it’s—a-ah, ah, fuck…”

You feel exactly when he cums, cock twitching hard as he spills against the entrance to your womb. The feeling of release pouring coupled with his incessant grinding on your mound pushes you to climax, a full body shudder taking over you as you tighten around his member.

He groans at the feeling, giving you another spurt of release, hands moving up to hug you close, pressing his cheek to your forehead.

“That was so good,” he breathes.

You nod in agreement, kissing his neck once more.

You know this is the part where you get off of him so you can clean up to get back to sleep, but you don’t want to move at all. You’re completely sated now, and the feeling of his softening cock inside of you is comforting. Undeniable proof that he’s right here with you in the form of a dull stretch in your core.

“Let’s stay like this,” you tell him, and he chuckles softly.

“It’s just that good, isn’t it?”

You snort softly, raising up to meet his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”

His smile is lazy and mirthful. “Ah, but I’m your little shit. By law you have to deal with me forever, sorry.”

He shrugs in a way that indicates he’s not sorry at all, and your grin widens.

“I’m happy to deal with you forever.”

His beautiful face is radiant with the next smile he gives you, and when your lips meet in a soft kiss, you realize that all of the anxiety and fear that nightmare had left you with has been melted away.

Satoru is real, and he’s okay. He really isn’t going anywhere. He’s safe and warm and set to live a long and happy life by your side.

When the kiss ends you lay back down on his chest, and he takes to drawing invisible circles over your back with his fingertips, the steadiness of his breath, the sureness of his heartbeat, and his comforting scent all lulling you to a peaceful sleep with the promise of his presence tomorrow.

___

A/N: I actually miss him so much to the point where it’s debilitating. I’m literally a widow at this point I might as well put a picture of him in a fuckin locket and wear it like he sent it in his last letter to me, like Gege u bitch that was our husband

Please don’t repost my work but feel free to reblog/share. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed :)

[judesmoonbeauty]

Chaotic Night: William Rex

☾ CW: Gore, Blood - Just a smidge. ☾ MDNI: Brief, heavily suggestive theme. This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy is not guaranteed. Cybird owns everything. Thank you so much for your support, and I hope that you enjoy the story! ☾.

— Rained poured into the empty room.

A deep crimson rain, deeper than any ruby.

Amidst this, he walked while humming a tune along with the screams of anger and pain.

He laughs, not minding that the raindrops are sullying this body,

It’s so beautiful, it’s otherworldly…….

As if by some mysterious magnetism, I can’t take my eyes off him.

(Ahh……)

(…..How beautiful.)

— A few hours before.

The appearances of the cursed changed due to the “Queen of the Night” extract being mixed in because of Roger.

(Everyone looks different. Will is -)

William: Kate, is there anything wrong with your body?

Kate: Nope, I’m fine. But…Will, your head….!

Will had horns springing from his head. The curved horns that grew skyward were a gorgeous jet-black color.

William: …..It seems I took on this appearance thanks to the Queen of the Night extract.

Kate: Do you feel any pain in your body…?

William: I don’t feel any pain….but, I’m not pleased that I can’t lay my head in your lap.

Kate: I’m sorry. If I had been more alert, I could’ve prevented the contamination…

William: …No, you don’t need to apologize.

William: I was aware that Roger purposely placed the bottle on the table.

Kate: What?

(If that’s the case, why did Will just take the medicine….)

Kate: Will, you took the medicine because you trust Roger, right?

William: Indeed. …..Roger is a man who views us as prime test subjects.

William: Most likely, the Queen of the Night extract’s safety was tested on one person beforehand.

William: It’s been proven safe, and Roger’s cursed research is progressing,

William: There’s no reason not to cooperate. Wouldn’t you agree?

(William knew all of this, and still consumed the contents….)

(….There was no need for me to worry, or fret.)

Will accepted everything knowingly, and while I was relieved, at the same time a stain spread across my heart.

But, before I could realize what that stain was, Will smiled with a suggestion.

William: Just as our appearance has changed, so the strength of our curses have increased,

William: Don’t you think it’s a good night for condemnation?

Hearing that a criminal group who commits heinous deeds was holding a costume party on Halloween night,

William wore his horns, and I wore a simple costume.

—With that, the evil king’s condemnation began.

William: Those who’ve committed murder, must end their lives the same way.

Will’s cursed power and sins have amplified due to ingesting the extract for the Queen of the Night,

It became possible for him to exercise his ability on any who heard his voice, without looking in their eyes.

Will brings about death after death, as I walk along the hall with him.

William: Cut off the head of the subordinate you committed a crime with.

William: Shoot the vital points of the comrades you don’t like.

Chaotic, whimsical death sentences.

It’s likely that limiting the targets and killing them off slowly, is to instill terror and despair.

— And then, gleaming silver blades cut off chunks of flesh, and bullets pierce bodies from all angles.

Each time, dark red petals spray out, and rain down incessantly.

William: ~♪

As voices of pain and anger echo….William happily hums a tune.

However, the people realized this was something unusual, and started attacking us as we mixed in.

William: Those who try to harm us, should switch targets to their own companions.

With those words, the murderous intent aimed at us shifted to other people.

(Oh……)

(…..How beautiful.)

The fear I felt in my heart when I first saw these deeds, was no longer there.

I thought he was beautiful as he laughed while covered in blood.

William: I’m growing bored with these same deaths. It’s about time to end this.

William: Those who lament their own powerlessness in the face of my power….slice your throat.

As soon as the remainder heard Will’s voice, they picked up their weapons and held them against their necks.

The cruel act of the Queen of Hearts, is to decapitate them,

It will likely make headlines, and will be something to be feared by criminals.

However, they weren’t the only ones to respond to his voice —

(Huh……?)

—My hand moved involuntarily and grabbed the cold, gold knife I had hidden in my clothes.

Kate: …..

I comfortably held the knife to my throat, with my own hand.

I tried to ask Will for help, but my voice wouldn’t sound.

(This can’t be….! What should I do…like this…..)

Even as my hand shook at the fear of my impending death,

Perhaps, because of the power the curse had over my body, I didn’t drop the knife.

The blade of the knife glowed as it slowly tried to dig into my skin.

Just as I was on the verge —

William: ….I did not give you that knife to harm yourself with. Kate,

William grabbed my arm, stopping the knife from advancing.

Kate: W-ill……I…..

William: ….When I gave the order, I said, “Those who lament their own powerlessness in the face of my power.”

William: Do you feel powerless?

When I was asked that question, I remembered what happened at the castle before arriving at the venue.

[Flashback Begins]

William: It’s been proven safe, and Roger’s cursed research is progressing,

William: There’s no reason not to cooperate. Wouldn’t you agree?

(William knew all of this, and still consumed the contents….)

(….There was no need for me to worry, or fret.)

[Flashback Ends]

At that time, the identity of the stain that dropped into my heart, was a sense of powerlessness.

Kate: William, you can perceive everything, and your ability is heightened, you’re flawless……

Kate: I started thinking that maybe I didn’t need to worry….or try to protect you.

This led to my sense of powerlessness, which led to my listening to Will’s order.

William: Kate. I am a human being.

William: ….Since I am dressed like this today, perhaps that doesn’t go without saying.

As if to loosen up my stiffened heart, Will points to his horns saying this jokingly.

William: Since we’re human, there are good times, and there are bad times.

William: I just so happened to be in a good mood today, I don’t know what tomorrow brings.

William: In these uncertain days...do you really think that I don't need you from now on?

Kate: That’s….

Kate: …I don’t think that.

Kate: I want to say that there will be days that I can be your strength, Will……

The same time I said that, my grip loosened on the knife and it fell on the spot.

Perhaps, because my sense of powerlessness vanished, the effectiveness of the order ceased.

Will picks up the fallen knife and puts it back in my hand.

William: …I think so too.

William: I, need you. Kate, my beautiful and brave knight.

At the words of my loved one, the stain in my heart disappeared.

Then we kissed like we were drawn to each other.

Kate: Will….., no, more…..!

After completing our mission and returning to our room, Will immediately embraced me.

Like my body was saying what it needed, I was repeatedly pushed to the highest heights, until I let out whimpers.

William: …Really? If that’s the case, I’ll stop going so deep.

Will moved his hips to gently thrust into my shallow area, the stimulation was weaker, and it was frustrating.

Kate: Don’t, be mean…..

William: Wasn’t it “no more”.

Kate: ~~, It’s not no more.

Even though Will knows everything, he still wants me to say it though it’s embarrassing.

At that moment, I suddenly realized.

(Before on the mission, I almost died by Will’s order…..)

(Will would never do anything to put me in danger)

(Also, Will notices things my own heart isn’t aware of….)

(Maybe that order was meant to draw out my weakness, and resolve it)

William: …It seems like you’re thinking of something other than no more.

Kate: It’s about you, Will.

William: Hm? Then, I’ll listen, Kate.

William: To everything you think and feel…..

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.saradika-graphics/@.natimiles

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko Please comment below if you wish to be included in translations!

This is only my second William translation....it's a learning curve, but I hope I didn't do too bad. They are mad about each other!

[bellewintersroe]

enemies to lovers headcanons with nix, winters, speirs and liebgott pls 🥺? (love ur writing btw)

thank you!!!!!! I love this request omfg hehehe and I’m so excited to write it, I hope this does your idea justice 🥰🥰

Easy Boys x Reader ~ Enemies to Lovers.

Ron Speirs:

I wrote something here but I accidentally deleted it and now I can’t remember but oh well. I think something along the lines of the fact he’s superrrr intimidating to you at first.

lets say you’re a pretty friendly person, you’d think he was super standoffish and maybe a bit arrogant? Idk it’s a weird take but let’s go with it.

anyway you don’t really talk, but when Ron starts to notice you more often (he always notices you the whole time) he can tell you don’t like him or something.

idk but one day when he’s just like oddly nice to you, like overly nice you suddenly feel bad and after months (or years) of avoiding the man you feel a pang of guilt.

he’d probs offer you some cigarettes or his coat or something whilst it’s raining in Germany.

the small gestures when Ron is finally relaxing towards the end of the war become more common and you decide you actually never hated him at all, you just completely misread him.

lets be honest you’re probs still intimidated asf by him, like the first time you two are walking alone just one on one it’s nerve wracking.

hes a lot more gentle? And soft spoken that you ever realised, like you’re just discussing something and you’re actually taken a back at how nice his voice is? That sounds odd, but then you look up to him and you kinda share a smile and that’s the exact moment when you can pin point the feelings between you both.

“you know I used to be scared of you.” You’d admit to him after a night of drinking in the eagles nest.

ron would just smile and legit just KISS YOU?!?

“uh did you mean to do that?”

“yeah…. Did you not… like it?”

you’re kissing again and suddenly the idea of somewhat disliking each other seems so stupid, Ron was there the whole time, yet only now did your relationship blossom into something so sweet and beautiful.

Joe Liebgott:

The most PERFECT example of enemies to lovers ever fr.

like you thing he’s smug and arrogant and he likes to tease you, like he says ur hot when your angry but then you snap back and he thinks ur a bitch and then the two of you avoid one another like the plague.

if you’re all sat in the same group you can guarantee he’ll throw some snarky comment your way and you’d hit one right back at him.

“Drop the attitude doll, just cos you’re hot.”

Backhanded compliments? Sometimes they’re kinda confusing but they’re reoccurring from entering Europe, it’s like Joe can’t actually be mean?

idk but you two will bicker and even when the feelings of hatred and despair begin to fizzle ever so slightly you still keep up to the image of disliking one another.

“I hate you.” But side eyes to watch the other persons response u know??

the thing is, you match each others personalities perfectly. Like you’re both feisty asf.

it’s one day that you’re a little downbeat and Joe decides he wants to make a snarky comment to you (to get your attention/ watch your reaction) that his heart legit drops out his asshole when he sees you cry.

like he actually make you cry. Fuck! It’s gone way too far and some of the boys are like; “oh way’da go, liebgott!”

He feels super, super bad, but just thinks you fully despise him now so he avoids apologising to you. In reality you’re more upset because something clicks that you don’t hate him, at all- so when he made a comment on a particularly rough day it bothers you in a different way than usual.

Has it clicked that the two of you like each other yet?? Idk idk.

anyway I can imagine one day Cobb makes some rude ass comment to you, and just as you’re about to open your mouth to spit something back at him, Liebgott interjects, feeling some form of anger like no other.

“Hey, watch your fuckin’ mouth, Cobb. Why don’t ya back the fuck off?”

it catches you both off guard like uhhhh- do you acknowledge that Liebgott just publicly defended you?? It shut Cobb up, so when Joe is satisfied and a little nervous with his work, he leaves.

idk I just feel like it would make you wanna chase after him and when you thank him he’s super relaxed and just… open?? Finally, there’s no facade that the two of you dislike each other, not remotely.

the conversations start up properly, like for some reason Joe would be nervous around you, he’d be so calm and speak so softly you’d tease him like is that the same person?!?

teasing each other like crazy becomes more of a playful/ flirtatious thing and neither of you can deny it.

“you know doll, maybe you never considered the fact you’ve actually been in love with me this whole time.”

“maybe I have.” “What??” “What?!”

let’s just say the feisty nature between the two of you is shifted into the bedroom… maybe all the tension of ‘hating’ one another paid off?

Lewis Nixon:

Honestly I’m struggling to think of scenarios for Lewis and Dick because they’re you’re superiors, like both of them are extremely respectful and professional men, I’m not quite sure how you’d end up becoming enemies?? For the sake of the fact it’s fiction, let’s just make something wild up.

so maybe bcs Lew is a big drinker and you’ve warned him time and time again to cut it out, you get so annoyed at him you just snap? Like you’re a little impatient with him, but he’s also not really giving you, the company nurse, but regard in return.

lewis would probs sign and roll his eyes and just walk away and it’s kinda awkward asf, and let’s say you’re shy, you just kinda avoid him like crazy.

so there’s more of a tension between the two of you, like you sigh every time you see him with an alcohol bottle, talking about his rich upbringing. Even tho Lew is extremely modest and doesn’t brag, maybe you just get the wrong end of the stick/ misunderstand? Idk people are complicated.

I feel like even tho it’s awkward you two would end up alone somehow? Like you’re stood waiting and you’re kinda forced to talk.

“Look I know you hate me and all-”

“I don't hate you, Captain Nixon.”

The interactions kinda pick up after he’s divorced, like you end up helping him with an injury he gained after a night of boozing. You don’t lecture him but you’re a lot more patient and understanding.

and uhhhh this does something to him. Like he’s confused, whys he feeling all these feelings towards a lady he’s barely interacted with?

oooo one day the tension between you guys would become too much and he’d kiss you and you’re both like wtfff- but it feels so good and so right so you just continue.

You two become masters of having a secret relationship and when the others find out it’s super unexpected and everybody’s a little baffled cos they figured the two of you hated one another??

It makes a good story to tell the grandkids, let me tell you that.

Dick Winters:

Ummmm this guy, yeah I’ve struggled to think of a scenario where he’d ever be anybody’s enemy (apart from the Germans obvs). But personally, he’s too respected, too calm and gentlemen like for you to be his enemy.

in this case maybe it’s more of a ‘we once had a thing but he stopped it and now I'm upset at him’.

like before you get serious, Dick has to stop the relationship because he knows it interferes with fraternising rules. Working together and being in a relationship would never ever ever work. The army forbids it.

it sucks and because he’s such a nice guy that sucks even more, like you can’t even look at him without wanting to cry, so you just completely blank him and try to push him away as far as humanely possible. Considering the circumstances you’re under, this isn’t very easy, nor is it very achievable.

dick always keeps an eye out for you, even though you don’t notice, he’s always asking others if you’re okay and if you’re taking care of yourself.

ofc there’s bigger things to worry about than your relationship ending, so the two of you would probably end up being completely professional with any interactions you have.

ouch it hurts both of you, but neither of you know it’s a mutual feeling? The longing for one another is so painful considering Dick thinks you hate his guts.

after the war is over and you leave the army, only then does Dick call you up one day and tells you everything.

like he wastes no time, trust me, and you’re in complete shock, because this man who became a total stranger to you is practically telling you he loves you?!??

ugh ofc you feel the same and the relationship back to lovers kinda begins to there.

But fr Dick Winters ending a relationship with you is legit your arc to become a villian- it’s no surprise you go a little crazy when he had to end things.

all you can say now is how glad you are things actually worked between you both, and be enthralled by the fact Dick practically waited for you the whole 3 years he knows you.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

If a version of Midnight Sun existed for each following instalment of the Twilight series (New Moon, Eclipse, Breaking Dawn), what do you think they’d be called/what would you call them and what (new) scenes would be in them?

Anon, you speak my greatest dream. I want this in my life. If no one else does, then I am the sole person who does. If there is not one person who wants this, it means that I have died.

I need this.

But for now, I can only imagine (and no doubt fail miserably to what it would be in actuality).

New Moon

The thing is that Meyer would also want to call this New Moon for the reason that she called it New Moon for Bella: this is a book about hopelessness. Edward leaves, Bella's soulmate, she literally cannot survive without him and this book is her discovering "oh, yeah, I literally cannot survive without him" (and making friends with Jacob but let's be real Meyer was never that into that).

It's a book where the moon, the light, is gone.

For Edward, we have the same narrative, he tries to leave Bella for her own good, fails, has a miserable time, and comes crawling back only to find that he's made everything worse.

But because Edward is more dramatic, and to thematically work with Midnight Sun (named thus as Bella is the unexpected sunlight in what should be the darkest of Edward's nights) we have Polar Night which is the phenomenon opposite of Midnight Sun where instead of the sun never setting at all we have the night never ending.

As for what would be in it. My friend, my beautiful friend, everything would be in it.

We'd get the scene where Edward bullies his family into leaving, many of them having reservations, and then steals all Bella's photographs and tries and fails to steal the stereo out of her car. We'd get scenes of Edward fantasizing about Bella marrying and holding hands with MiKe NEWtoN and it being entirely too much for him. We get all of the birthday party, period, which from Edward's point of view would no doubt be insane.

We have Edward so fucking depressed that he feels he's bringing the family down and chooses to leave on the vague pretext of catching Victoria. Then he doesn't catch Victoria and loses her in Mexico but is so depressed he just keeps going south until he hits Brazil.

Where he stays, and per what he says to Bella (which is undoubtedly not the entire truth) he was fucking miserable and did nothing for months. Did he have a Hallucination Bella who told him not to eat human food because it'd make him sick? Did he write a rock opera about Bella Swan only to realize it didn't live up to real life and burn it in a fit of despair and anger? What about the family calling to check in? We know that happened, Rosalie could reach Edward and he answered, so did they just call and quietly try to ask if Edward's coming back home or not? You know? Anytime? Edward?

And then of course his pleading for death with the Volturi, being told no, planning his elaborate massacre-suicide before settling on good old suicide without any murder and Bella being alive and that whole debacle from his point of view including "OH NO OTHER MAN MOVED IN" when he realizes Jacob's... kind of... a thing...

Everything would be new in part because we see so little of Edward and given the insanity in Midnight Sun that was never in Twilight I can't even guess to what Edward got up to for months in Rio.

It could be fucking anything.

Eclipse

Or "Edward did a bad thing and is now very nervous" the novel. As for what it's call, this is less clear as we have to go with the sun/moon themes here, and Eclipse is already taken. If we're allowed weather related events maybe "Eye of the Hurricane" as there's a storm out there and this book is about Edward barely holding his shit together. This is his nightmare scenario in every way.

Bella has a new love interest, a friend she believes is platonic who is very interested in her, and worse, Edward actually does admire and is hands down in Edward's opinion the better man for her to be with. Bella's changed when he was gone and is now an adrenaline junky, what else about her has changed? How much did he miss? She's involved in werewolves who all hate Edward, for good reason, and want her to leave him, for good reason. Edward has discovered that he actually can't leave Bella, Alice was right, even though he wants to be that strong desperately. Bella got the family to agree to turn her and they'll do it, Edward's barely gotten her to agree to be turned by him instead, but she's hemming and hawing about marrying and committing to him and she wants him to bang him (which will likely lead to her death)

Edward is straight up not having a good time, bro.

So, we'd get Edward's insane plans to keep Bella and Jacob apart, his meeting Bella in the road after her looking like he'd love nothing more than to pull The Terminator where he chases her car down. We get Edward's increasing nervousness that Bella "wants to be with him forever" but "doesn't want to marry him" (which for Edward, understandably as he doesn't have Bella's background, is something that just doesn't compute). And there's Jacob, kissing Bella, warming her up at night, thinking very dirty things when Edward's sitting right there internally screaming.

And of course, offscreen things with the family, likely venting about the Denali who are leaving them to die because they won't let them kill the children Native Americans, wondering if they're all going to die in this fight, even more of the tent scene with Jacob (which I'm sure, somehow, I'm sure, got very homoerotic in there). Probably sobbing to Alice "I fucked up" and then hating Rosalie BECAUSE THIS IS ALL HER FAULT HISS HISS.

And of course, what we know he sees from Bree and perhaps the discussion with the family that Bella never got to be privy to.

And I imagine a lot of fantasies of Bella pregnant with Jacob's beautiful babies.

Breaking Dawn

I'm going to bow out for this one too, Meyer would want to name it that. Maybe we get "Hailey's Comet" or something, in that Edward has related Bella to a comet streaking across the bleak sky of his life and this is him learning to accept to be happy and perhaps good things are allowed to happen to him.

But anyways.

I mean.

We get Breaking Dawn.

We get Edward gearing himself up for sex and asking the family how to bang a woman. We know he did this. Canonically he confesses to Bella, in the weirdest manner possible, that he asked his entire family how to do it (and it made it clear that Carlisle didn't really approve and was pretty :/ and "don't do it" about all of it). We get the family probably watching Alice like hawks because they're waiting for her to tell them if Bella lived or died through intercourse. We get Edward interrogating the maid in Portuguese and god knows what they even said to one another but it had to be wild.

We get Edward planning Bella's abortion, the betrayal by Rosalie yet again, and then more planning of her forced abortion with Jacob and his opinion on Jacob turning from "respected rival" into "my only friend".

Then we get Edward's complete flip on Renesmee which must have been... I don't even know. But he'd be thinking she's the spawn of Satan before that (in the most Edward manner possible) and then that she's Jesus after that (in the most Edward manner possible).

Then of course there's "my son, Jacob" and honestly probably fantasizing about an adult Renesmee pregnant with Jacob's beautiful babies. Let's be real here. and just...

Look.

I can't predict this.

What we saw of Breaking Dawn was already insane and this would only be more so because it's Edward. There's so much we don't see as Bella pays 0 attention to the other vampires and to the family at large and Edward would just...

I have no idea.

It would just be madness.

TL;DR

I need this.

[propertyofwhitney67]

For the event could you do whitney x f!reader with the pregnancy and jealousy prompt? I love your writing!

So Simple

M!Whitney x F!Reader

Prompt Event: Pregnancy & Jealousy

Words: 814

Tw: pregnancy

Note: Oh my goodness, thank you so much <3

Whitney was late, again. I angrily stewed on the couch, rubbing my heavily pregnant belly, waiting for him to come home. He’s been coming home late recently, and I’m scared he’s cheating. Why come home to your moody pregnant girlfriend when you can be with some skinny bitch that’s begging to suck your cock. 

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. I know he loves me, but I also know what he was like before we got together. I sighed, leaning back into the couch and rubbing my belly, baby kicking back in response. 

Miss Wellington jumped up on the couch, resting on my belly. “What are we gonna do…?” I whispered, petting her. She didn’t respond, only yawning and nuzzling into my stomach. “Thanks…” I grumbled to myself. I tried to keep myself up by watching tv, wanting to be awake when Whitney came home.

I was nodding off, Miss Wellington’s purring lulling me to sleep, when I heard keys jingling in the door. The lock disengaged and the door opened, Whitney quietly entering the house. Miss Wellington yowled and jumped off the couch, trotting off towards Whitney. “Shh, don’t wake your mother.” He sounded tired as he answered her yowls, demanding food.

“I’m already awake.” I called out, sour demeanor obvious in my voice. I checked the time on the clock, 1:13am. I could feel anger and jealousy bubble up, he’s supposed to be here with me, not out with some whore.

He entered the living room, standing at the other end of the couch. “What are you doing up so late?” He looked exhausted, still wearing his jacket and keys in his hands, “Are you ok?” He asked, seeing the distressed and angry look on my face.

The simple question sent me over the edge, “Ok!?” I tried to get up but failed, I was far too along to be getting up without help. Instead of asking for help up, I picked up a pillow and threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest.

“What the hell!?” He yelled confused, catching the pillow before it fell to the ground. He tossed it back onto the couch, “What’s wrong with you?”

I was so angry and upset that I began to cry, “What are you doing out late every night, huh!?” I threw another pillow at him, “Fucking some whore!?”

He dodged the pillow, “What the hell are you talking about?” Miss Wellington yowled again, demanding food. “Hang on princess.” This was taking far too long for her, and she let him know, biting his leg and running off. “Fuck!”

With tears running down my face, I picked up another pillow. “Seeing some whore when you should be here with me, your pregnant girlfriend!” I was distraught and running out of pillows to throw. I knew I should have bought more, they would’ve looked good with the couch. “Do I not look good enough anymore?” My voice started to crack, my anger quickly turning to despair. I was terrified I’d have to do this all alone, without him. What would I do then?

He sighed deeply, dropping his keys on the coffee table and taking off his jacket. “You’re ho-beautiful,” He quickly caught himself, not wanting to take the possibility of angering me further. “And I’m not out with some whore.”

I sniffled and wiped at my eyes as he sat down next to me, “Then what the fuck are you doing out so late?”

Slowly he reached out, cupping my face. “Not cheating on you.” He rubbed my cheek with his thumb, “I’m…” He sighed again, “I got another job…I wanted to make sure there’s enough money for when the baby comes.” He looked embarrassed, thinking he wasn’t doing enough to provide for us.

Of course it was something as simple as that, why didn’t I think of that? I got too caught up in the fear of losing him, I couldn't see any other possibility. “Whitney…you do more than enough for us.” I guided his hand to my stomach, where the baby was kicking.

Whitney’s shoulders relaxed as he felt the baby kicking, “I know slut, I know…”

I smiled at the familiar nickname and hugged him, resting my chin on his shoulder. “I just wish you would have told me, I was scared you were cheating on me.”

He hugged me back, “You’re the only slut for me.” He pulled back, smirking. “Besides, no one else can do the things you do.”

I hit him with another pillow, “Shut up and help me up, I wanna go to bed with my boyfriend.”

Whitney laughed, helping me up, “Come on, let’s go to bed.” He kissed the top of my head and led me to the bedroom. “I love you, slut.”

“I love you too, asshole. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

[iliketangerines]

cowgirl/reverse cowgirl

a/n: hmmmmm, feeling rather very much hurt/comfort but without the hurt

pairing: tsu'tey x gn!na'vi!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), cowgirl, him being horrendously horrifically down bad for you

Tsu’tey stares up at you, his hands holding onto your hips, and his breath soft as he watches you grind down on him

you look ethereal like this, the moonlight shining through the strands of your hair that had come loose from your hair, and your brows furrowed in concentration as you focus on bouncing on his cock

the light frames your head, a bright halo around your head, making you look like the Eywa herself, and in a way you were

birthed and born in her embrace and imbued with her life, shining bright in the dark and glowing radiance with every step you took

he would gladly kiss your every step, to worship and pray to you, to touch you with his calloused and rough hands until you purified him

every step you took, every breath you took, it was like he had risen above the skies, flying high on his ikran and admiring the beauty of his home

your lips are swollen, from him, from his lips that had touched yours and tasted you and worshiped you, and the sounds that come from your mouth have him spinning faster and faster down into the abyss of his craving for you

oh he could forever be here below you, would let you take him to the stars beyond and back if only you would kiss him again

Tsu’tey would never be able to get enough of you, to consume you would not be enough, he craves you like his body craves food and thirst

you are essential to his being, you breathe life into his body, you bring a softness to his demeanor and smooth down the jagged edges

you had cradled his heart in your hands and had melded it with your own and cared for it as if it was Eywa herself

he rubs his thumbs into your hips, blinking up at you slowly and listening to your soft breaths and small whimpers as you ride him

you smile down at him, soft and gentle, and slide your hands up his stomach to his chest, your touch firm but soft, the rough pads of your fingers rubbing at his hardened skin

and yet, your touch only had him melting into you, like a morning dew sliding off the leaves and onto his awaiting tongue

it felt like the fresh breeze that rushed past him when he rode through the sky and the clouds on his ikran, it felt the fresh spray of water when he rode on his pali past great waterfalls

every part of you felt like experiencing the beauty of every part of this world, shining and gorgeous and breathtaking

you’re slow in your movements, hips purposeful in their movements, rolling down onto his slowly, the only sound in the kelku  being the sound of your synchronized breathing

you lean down, pressing your chest to his, and you mumble out that you see him, eyes full of the stars and the shining light of the atokirina surrounding you both

you see him, despite his roughness, despite his harshness and sharp tongue and even sharper blade, past the stress and anger and despair

because you see him, his heart, his soul, and Tsu’tey mumbles out that he sees you too, and he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss you again, filling his hed with only the thought of you

there’s no rush, no other world or star than each other

[justcallmecj]

Pact Mark Location Headcanon: Satan

And it's finally the boy who started this whole series! Literally, I accidentally made a really cool hc for Satan and decided I may as well do the others as well.

Again, under the pretext that you are together, either all the brothers or just you two, you pick!

Satan

On the shoulder:

Alright, this one stems from a place of comfort for Satan.

Satan has always struggled with his anger, however, you seem to be the only person who can quell this feeling.

And all he needs is a solid hand on the shoulder, a presence to tell him 'you're not alone. I'm here'. A feeling to ground him.

So his Wrath mark manifested on the spot he finds comfort and peace in.

It sits right on top of your shoulder, exactly where your own hand rests when he's stuck in a rage.

Oh and he absolutely loves it when you wear anything off the shoulder/a tank that shows off the mark. He gets all smug about it and happy when his brothers look pissed at seeing it.

It could also be on the back of your upper arm because that can be a grounding place for him as well.

Over the heart:

And this is the one that started it all!

Now, the reason for this one isn't obvious until it gets explained, so let's do that.

Think about it. Where does one feel wrath? When I think about it, wrath is the most heartfelt emotion of the sins. Wrath is all consuming, often pushing back any other emotion and thought and simply being.

The placement of the Wrath mark being over the heart reflects that. Reflects the heart, the emotion, the importance of blowing off that anger in the moment.

And, in a way, it also reflects the quick slip into despair a person can fall into when they realize their actions and their consequences.

I know this is deep, but so is Satan. His sin is so deeply rooted in him, so much so that it is the reason he exists.

And I think Satan would pick up on this. He would see the meaning behind it and while it seems like something straight out of the cheesy romance novels he loves to read, he'd see a beauty behind it.

Dang that last one get deeper than it originally was but oh well!

I will say it again, feel free to comment some of your own location headcanons! If you want, I can write some scenarios of either your hc or these ones.

[pascaloverx]

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter One

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

preview chapter two

The night ends up being good, taking away the pain in your head that doesn't seem to go away. Serving at Pedro Pascal's table is much calmer than you thought it would be. You just need to control yourself so you don't ask for an autograph or over-treat him. Oscar Isaac is also here, having dinner with him. You believe they are just friends having dinner together but you don't want to assume anything.

"I don't know what you did, but the manager is calling you. And I'm telling you, he's in a horrible mood." Your coworker speaks close to your ear and you feel butterflies in your stomach. It can only be about the incident with Pascal. You prepare to hear some nonsense.

"If I don't get out of there in five minutes, rescue me. I feel like even my third generation will be insulted today." You say looking at your colleague as if you know you got screwed. She nods her head positively with a look of empathy. You head towards your manager who is standing near the back door, right where the whole incident happened. You're officially screwed.

"Can you explain to me how you cause an accident with a celebrity on the same day that I made it clear that nothing could go wrong?" Your manager says, while you are confused.

"Sir, as much as it seems like it wasn't me who caused the accident. It was a coincidence, nothing more than that." You speak softly, trying to stay calm.

"There are no coincidences in the world of customer service. This is a renowned restaurant, not a corner diner. My team must be impeccable. Your mediocrity offends me to the point that I won't even ask for your advance notice. Remove your things from my establishment and go to HR as soon as possible." Your former manager speaks, with a tone of contempt.

"You are being unfair, I did my best to carry out my tasks with mastery." You speak almost out of despair. This job is all you have.

"What I am or am not is none of your business. Oh, and don't use this work as a reference, I will make it my personal goal to ruin any job opportunity you have." It was at that moment that his emotional shock turned to anger. Resigning is bad, but getting in the way of having another job is too much.

"So if I have nothing left to lose, I'm going to take this opportunity to be very realistic." You speak losing the last bit of control you have over yourself.

"And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, almost mocking your face. You then take the jug of orange juice and throw it at his head.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll leave with the rest of my dignity." You say, turning around and noticing that people in the restaurant have noticed your disagreement with the manager. Everyone's eyes were on the situation you had just been in and you felt embarrassed. You even wondered where Mr. Pascal was, since you hadn't seen him.

"Are you looking for me?" Mr. Pascal speaks behind you, and you jump discretely scared.

"Do you have a habit of surprising others unexpectedly?" You say, composing yourself and walking towards the employee area. Surprisingly Mr. Pascal accompanies you.

"It's not a habit of mine but I think it's happening a lot when it comes to our dates with each other. I apologize if I'm being intrusive." Mr. Pascal speaks sincerely in your tone of voice.

"You don't need to apologize, I may have been rude. This night suddenly turned into chaos." You say it, trying to be as subtle as possible, but the truth is that you're screwed and you can't even hide it.

"I witnessed the scene with your old boss. I must say that despite the waste of a beautiful orange juice, he deserved every drop of that juice." Mr. Pascal speaks, almost containing his laughter, and you feel happy to amuse someone that night.

"Do you need anything, I still work here until I take off my uniform." You say, imagining that he followed you because he needed something.

"Actually, I came to give you something. I know it doesn't make up for your dismissal but I think you You deserve it for your effort." He hands you a piece of paper, more specifically a check.

"Sir. No need to give me a check for the inconvenience, seriously. At the end of the day, this job wasn't the best." You say, trying to return the check but Mr. Pascal doesn't accept it.

"Take it as a tip for causing all this and for you getting fired because of me." Mr. Pascal says, forcing the check into my hands. You smile thinking that you are incredibly lucky of being in the presence of a celebrity that you like but that your boss made you feel as if you were insignificant.

"Thank you, sir. It was an honor to meet you." You say, taking the check and putting it on your uniform, not seeing the amount or anything. Mr. Pascal takes your hand lightly and you feel as if the world stops for that split second in which he held your hand.

"It was my pleasure, I hope that if we meet again, your life will be in a better situation." Mr. Pascal speaks with an unusual kindness, his smile could light up a village but you could only focus on the fact that he was lightly holding your hand. Your hand in his and his hand in yours.

"Good evening, Mr. Pascal." You say it as soon as you can come to your senses. He nods as if accepting my goodnight and then he returns to his table. And you return to your reality.

[aki-anikk]

Tw: angst, and That's All i think? Well maybe that they are young, not full on teenagers but kids.

Was intended for male reader but can be read as gender neutral or female too! :)

Please dm me if i can fix something.

(sorry if it came out weird, first time writing a ff)

You don't know when it started, but what you do know is that.. whenever you see him - your heart speeds up, your cheeks flush and... You just can't take your eyes off him.

Which usually resulted in you getting yelled at by him. You knew his face so well, every little wrinkle when he frowned at you, that scowl when you gave him flowers, the gritting of teeth when you talked to him with those hopeful, soft eyes.

Oh how you loved that boy. For Simon Riley, you were like a love sick puppy.

Yet he didn't seem to want it, pushing you away, ignoring you and telling you many, many rude things. Just so you would leave him alone.

But how could you? How could you do that when you saw the other side of him? How he cared for the homeless dogs, how one day he beat up some people that bullied his friends.

It didn't matter that he wasn't like that for you.

Well, he was at the begining.

At first he was nice, he talked with you and even helped you when other kids picked on you, so how could you not love him? Yet sometimes you wished you didn't, it felt like you destroyed everything between you two because of feeling this weird, this warm tickle whenever you saw his smile.

The moment when you came to him for the first time to confess your love, full of hope, with even a boquet, that you spent at least 2 hours to pick flowers for, to make it big, perfect, just for him.

But his reaction wasn't what you expected. There was suprise, confusion and then... Anger. He didn't take them, and every next time he didn't even touch them. He hated how you looked at him, he hated these sweet smiles you sent him - not even aware of doing it.

He hated you.

He had other problems to deal with, his father, school, and people who always seemed to pick on him, without even any reason. He didn't need someone to follow him around like a dog, someone who no matter how much he yelled, hurted and snapped at, would always come back. Never, not even once, looking at him with anything else but affection.

One time he couldn't bear it anymore. He walked back from school after being teased by his classmates about you and he was going back to a home where his hell would continue.

He felt overwhelmed, needed to let it out. And who was there? You. Again.

Of course you were. You always were.

When he turned around and he saw you with yet another boquet... It was too much.

The flowers were beautiful, clearly carefully picked and put together with care to make it special, just for Simon.

Those eyes filled with Hope that maybe, just maybe he would change his mind, and this time and accept you. No matter how many times he pushed you away, you never lost hope.

He finally felt something snapping inside of him, not being able to bear it anymore. Those eyes, that smile, the confessions. He couldn't.

And for the first time he took the flowers you gave him. Your eyes widened slightly, you wanted to smile, Hug him, anything.

But everything was crushed the moment he rose his hand and threw it on the ground, stomping on your hard work. Your sign of love.

"If you love me, then don't ever come close to me again"

Those were the last words you heard from his lips. He walked away clearly angry, not even looking back. Leaving you frozen. You were just staring at the destroyed flowers as you held in your tears.

You felt a lot of things that moment. Despair, pain.... Oh you were so hurt. How could such a small heart like yours not break at this?

Your first love had just ended, before it even began.

But one thing didn't change, the feeling of care you held for him. It was engraved into your soul and would never leave it, no matter if it healed, it would leave scars.

So you left.

Just like he asked.

But not because you hated him, not because he hated you.

You did it because it was the first and only way he allowed you to show his love for him.

'if you love me, then don't ever come close to me again'

So you didn't come back, and this way you had shown, that you truly loved him.

Neither of you knew how to handle that pure and childish love, so it had to be finally broken.