#she doesn’t think you’re a threat to her at any point

[moghedien]

I did the resist the urge scene with Karlach, why was she kinda into the whole thing 😭

[ithebookhoarder]

Hello hi ! 🤗

Can you do a "bau reacts" when they are undercover in public and about to be found out so the reader just starts making out with them to pretend they are just a couple?

(BAU Headcanons) Making out Undercover

A/N: Mwahaha. Oh, this is a good prompt. Thanks for making me daydream all afternoon. Enjoy my lovelies 😉 Also, as a note, I'm writing the main BAU where I'm at watching it (season 13) plus Luke as he was requested previously 💕

Warnings: Mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, alcohol references, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Aaron Hotchner

We know Aaron doesn’t go undercover for most cases, so this would have to be a big case to get him into the field. 

This man would be in shock. Let’s be real. He would freeze in place and try to argue for a split second until he realises what you’re trying to do and why - even if you were already together. 

As soon as they’re gone though, you’d glance up and see his usual steely glare that tells you you’re in for a scolding once this is over. 

However, you’d have to be blind to miss the way he lingers for a moment, holding you close for half a second longer than necessary. 

“I feel I should remind you that we are in the field, and whilst it may have worked, I can’t endorse it as a tactic in future. Understood?” 

“So I’m hearing that we’re leaving this off of our case report then?” 

“Agreed. I don’t need to give Strauss anything else to use to go after us and the team.”

He would roll his eyes and take off after the Unsub, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he smirks as he goes. 

David Rossi 

He’d be a little embarrassed but mostly quite smug about the whole thing, even if you were supposed to be undercover. 

“Well, I can safely say in all my years in this field I don’t think that’s ever happened to me before.” 

He’d also refuse to let you apologise for your actions afterwards either. 

One, because he’s kind of flattered. 

Two, because he’s been around the block a few times and knows that sometimes you have to do what it takes to solve a case or protect yourselves. 

Three, you were supposed to be a couple and kissing is what couples do. He’s only sour because if anything he would have liked to be the one who kissed you. 

“Relax about it, would you? I won’t tell you some of the things Gideon and I had to do back in the old days. That was before all this new paperwork and guidelines, so that’s all I’ll say on the matter.” 

You make a point of remembering to ask him about that at your next night off over drinks. 

Derek Morgan

Derek is always up for anything so I feel like he’d be pretty relaxed about being undercover with you, even if you weren't together romantically. He has no issue playing your pretend boyfriend for one night, and is quick to wrap his arm around you. 

Which is why it would be such a surprise to him when it’s you who initiated the kiss. 

Derek would freeze for like a second, but only out of shock. However, you know he wouldn’t fight you on it. 

The second his brain catches up to his body he would be kissing you back, doing everything in his power to match your energy and sell this kiss. 

If anything, you’re going to have to be the one to break away once the coast is clear and remind him you’re still technically in the field and that your team is probably wondering where the hell you are right now - and why you stopped responding to your comms. 

“I’m just saying, if we get to do that then we need to be partnered up more often.” 

“Yeah yeah, Morgan. Let’s just hope Penelope didn’t see that else we’ll never be hearing the end of it.” 

Emily Prentiss

She’s been undercover plenty of times in her life and spent a whole chunk of time actually fake-married to Doyle for an op, so she’d be the most comfortable and understanding if you grabbed her for a kiss - especially if you were meant to be a fake couple. 

She’d work it out pretty quickly and would respond in kind, pressing herself against you and running her hands all over you. 

“Quick thinking with the kiss,” she’d whisper as she brushed a kiss against your neck. 

She’d also know exactly where the Unsub is afterwards too, having kept watch in her peripheral vision. 

She wouldn’t even have to break eye contact with you before she informed you, “3 o’clock. He just left out the fire exit.” 

With that, she’d be off. 

She also probably wouldn’t even bring it up again until you’re both back on the jet. Then she’d be smirking at you across the top of her drink and chuckling to herself. 

“Normally I’d insist dinner first but given that we caught that bastard I think we’re even.” 

JJ

JJ knows about going undercover and it takes a lot to rattle her. She would probably go along with the action, even if she’d stay kind of stiff for a good minute or so. 

However, she’s a good agent and knows about maintaining a cover so quickly catches on when you pull her in. 

She’d return the kiss, shooting glances out the corner of her eye when she thinks it might be safe to check on their target. If it doesn’t look like they’re buying it, she’ll turn things up a notch and spin you around so that she could take control. 

“My gun is under my jacket. Reach for it slowly if he comes any closer,” she’d warn, but thankfully you don’t need it. Eventually they leave, distracted by something else, leaving you and JJ to recover.

After catching your breath, you both take off in the direction your target just left in. You can tell JJ is trying not to laugh about what just happened, choosing to make it funny rather than uncomfortable if you weren't together romantically.  

Which means you know she’d enjoy teasing you about it in front of the others, making your cheeks burn as she announces on the jet: “For the record, even though it was a ‘cover kiss’ it was pretty good. Just saying. Maybe you should give Morgan some tips. That way he might get a girl to call him back after a first date.” 

Luke Alvez

It doesn’t matter if he’s ex-army or whatever. Undercover is not really Luke’s thing and even then, he is more used to infiltrating gangs than playing house. 

Basically, he would be surprised by your actions, despite being undercover together. Like, I can see his eyebrows hitting his hairline so fast, bless him. He’d look like a deer in headlights. 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow your roll-“ 

“- Luke. Shut up and kiss me. Now.” 

“I - ok.” 

Just like that, he’d take control, turning and pressing you against the nearest wall in an attempt to shield you from whoever was watching. He’d also be such a gentleman about it if you weren't already together romantically, keeping his hands on your waist and pulling away the minute he’s sure the danger has passed. 

Even then, he’d wait a minute before letting the two of you move from your position, just in case they come back. He’s your partner and he’s returning the favour for you keeping him safe, even if in an unsuspected manner.

“You good?”

“Luke. Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I was the one who planted myself on you.” 

“Potato, po-tah-to. Are they still over there?”

“No. They just left out the back.”

“Then let’s go, partner. Let’s catch this freak.” 

Penelope Garcia 

If Penelope is in the field then you know she is already hella nervous and out of her element. It doesn’t matter if there was a reason she was needed for this particular assignment, she would just take that as added pressure not to let everyone down.

Which is why I’m sure you’d feel worse about planting one on her - even if it does also help distract her from worrying for a minute.  

All I can imagine is her giving her trademark squeal of confusion and surprise, even if you gave her a hasty warning - and apology - about what you were going to do.

She’d be stunned at what was happening and probably takes a minute to realise she should probably try and kiss you back, or at least look less visibly startled about it. 

“I feel I should point out how unfair it is that this is permitted as ‘suitable workplace behaviour’ as we’re undercover, yet my flirtatious texts with Agent Morgan are not? I will be writing a strongly worded email when we get back, telling HR they can go shove their-”

“Pen? Hey, focus here. Unsub still watching us.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry! Ahem… as you were?”  

Also, you know that like a day or so later, once it’s all over, she sends you an email informing you that your new username on the BAU system is now ‘smoochykins’ and she will not change it until it becomes not-funny for her… which will probably be never. After all, Morgan has been ‘Chocolate Thunder’ for the last two years and is still going strong.  

Dr Spencer Reid

Spencer has been undercover before and is usually quite calm about it, even if it is faking a date or maintaining a story. Still, despite having to do your jobs, you’d hate to make him uncomfortable, knowing how he feels about any kind of physical contact - especially if you're not together. 

As he says, with the amount of bacteria shared by shaking hands you’d be safer kissing … guess it was time to take it literally. 

He’d be blushing like a tomato as you grab his jacket lapels and pull him close. And honestly? it’s kind of adorable. As is the way he tries to kiss you back, even if he still takes a minute to remember how to even move his body. 

I’m just picturing the Lila kiss in season one and how he eased into that and how stunned / embarrassed he seemed afterwards. He would pretty much be like that, but with a fake smile on his face as he rambled in your ear. 

“What was that?”

“I was covering our asses. We’re undercover, remember? We’re supposed to be a couple and couples kiss. Also, I’d thought you know, genius, that kissing and displays of public affection make people extremely uncomfortable.”

“No kidding… Morgan can never find out about this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. You got a deal, pretty boy. This is between us.” 

Masterlist

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

48 / 1.1k / shark mermen Ghost and Soap + lionfish mermaid reader, courtesy of @porcelainpot :)

...

The moment you and Soap lock eyes, you push yourself up off the soft sea floor. Tendrils of sand, gold in the sun, trail after your tailfin all the way back into the tangle of reef coral you’ve claimed as your home.

Soap laughs behind you.

Why is he so obsessed with this? This stupid game he plays. Ghost—who rolls over near the sunny patch where you were just lazing together—doesn’t care when you’re around. You don’t bother him; he doesn’t bother you. But Soap won’t leave you alone. He all but ignores the clear warning signs all over your body—the auburn striping your tail; your bright, fanlike fins; the enormous fuckoff venom-coated spines running the length of your dorsal line, arms, and ear fins.  

You scowl. Every time you think he won’t find you when you venture out into the reef, every time you let yourself relax after the day’s hunting is done, he turns up. Watching you the same way he’s looking at you right now: too fucking closely. His eyes flash with mischief and lock onto your fins through the sparse gaps in your coral cave.

“Think she bites?” he asks Ghost.

Ghost grunts. “Most things do.”

“Saw her lookin’ at you like she might want to take a piece home.”

“Doubt it.”

“Doubt you’d feel it if she did. Could hardly kill a minnow with those wee teeth. Don’t know how she hunts with ‘em.”

You duck down back into the entrance of your cave with a flick of your lacy tail. He’s talking loudly enough for you to hear on purpose. “You’re never getting close enough to find out,” you snap.

Soap’s smirk stretches into a grin. You took the bait. “Can’t hide in your cage forever, can ya?”

Ghost rolls back over. “She’s got more sense than the ones who swim toward you.”

“Oh, piss off. Fleein’ from a predator is what prey fish do. It’s a natural response.”

You lurk a little further outside your cave. “I’m not prey. I’m just as much a predator as you sharks.”

This time, Ghost is the one who scoffs. “Sure you are.”

Soap swims up closer to your hiding spot, eyes roaming over your form. You bristle instinctively and raise your spines in warning as he drifts closer. But it doesn’t drive him away. If anything, it seems to draw his interest even more.

“Ya’ve got an impressive display, I’ll give it that,” he says. “But you’re a scrap compared to us.”

“So? I don’t need size to defend myself.” You fan your fins up higher, emboldened as you rise with the current.

Soap grins even wider at the threat display. You’re all barbed fins, colorful scales, and angry pout. His gaze reflects the challenge you’re issuing him. “Careful sayin’ that. I’ll chase you if you tease me.”

Ghost lets out an irritated growl at Soap’s flirtation, knowing very well Soap only says these things to get a rise out of you. “Those spines aren’t just for show, Soap. You know what lionfish venom feels like. Bet hers is worse. Might kill you. You think it's worth dying just to prove a point?"

“I think spines break as easy as they sting.”

Anger surges through your chest. “Brute,” you snap.

Soap laughs. You don’t seem to notice you’ve drifted some distance away from your hiding spot, but he has. Ghost shifts, side-eying both of you more closely.

“I’m just curious, gorgeous.” His senses sharpen with the thrill of your threat display and your anger. Of course he thinks it’s sexy. The more you insult him, the more he wants to see what it takes to earn more than just that sharp tongue of yours. “Think touchin’ you might be worth the sting.”

“You’d be wrong.”

“You’re cute when you’ve got a problem with me. Gnashin’ like a miniature barracuda.”

You puff up a little more, daring to swim closer. You’re smugly satisfied when he backs away a little in response.

“Try it,” you bluff.

Soap’s eyes drop down, tracing the length of your fins, and he grins. He’s just as aware of the lethality of any lionfish's wicked barbs as he is of their beauty, but he doesn’t seem particularly deterred by the threats of this particular mer wielding them. “Bet you wouldn’t bite me too hard.”

“Soap.” Ghost’s voice is calm, but a warning lurks in his tone. “Don’t provoke her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Soap replies without looking away from you. “Bet those spines are brittle.” He reaches forward to touch one.

You hiss and whip your tail away on instinct, darting back. Your spines are still raised in defense. But your rational mind doesn’t want to risk him getting any closer. You don’t want him to know what happens if he's stung--that your venom is a faulty mimic of a true lionfish. He needs to think you're dangerous and keep his distance. And you need to keep your pride intact.

Soap hardly notices how upset you are. He’s thrilled to provoke an interesting new reaction out of you. Before he can reach out again, though, Ghost grabs his wrist and jerks him back, forcing him out of your personal space.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re not fast enough to avoid a sting.”

“You’re no fun, Ghost.”

“Fuck off,” you snap. Your heart is pounding. He got too close, way too close.

You retreat while Ghost has ahold of him, slipping down into your small den and out of sight. Soap calls after you, but he’s not surprised when you don’t come back out.

Soap rips his wrist out of Ghost’s claws with a muttered curse. At Ghost’s hard look, he snaps, “Like you wouldn’t do it too.”

“That’s not the problem. She’s a pincushion. You go pissing her off too much, you’re going to wind up full of poison.

“Aye.”

“And it'll probably kill you. Hurt the whole time doing it. It’s all fun and games until you’re dying because you just couldn’t help but poke a pretty fish.”

Soap scoffs. “You’re exaggerating. No sting can kill me. It'll hurt a little an’ I’ll be fine.”

Ghost gives Soap an unimpressed glance. “And if you're wrong? You think you’re strong enough to fight off a neurotoxin.” He snorts. “You want to test that hypothesis?”

Soap glances back at your den with a frown.

“Keep your bloody distance,” Ghost mutters, giving Soap a shove back toward the center of the reef. “She’s no prize.”

Soap gives in and turns back toward the reef, turning a restless corkscrew in the water. Still, the smirk reappears on his face. “Aye. Little nightmare, isn’t she?” He sighs. “All bite and no kiss.”

...

[part 1 ] / part 2 by porcelainpot here!! <3

more mer au / more Soap / masterlist

[feral4daryl]

I would love to see a fic of Daryl with pregnant reader (bonus points if there’s a breeding kink [if you’re comfortable, I didn’t see it in the list] that results in her being that way). She’s concerned about the changes in her body and that he doesn’t find her attractive in her condition. So, Daryl gets to share his love for pregophillia. :)

masterlist || MDNI

depths of your despair.

daryl dixon x pregnant!reader

summary: after a series of misunderstandings, insecurities regarding your pregnancy start affecting your relationship with daryl. but as soon as he becomes aware of that, he makes it up to you, worshipping your pregnant body like he should've done since the beginning.

warnings: 18+ smut, pregophilia, dirty talk, pet names, praising, cunnilingus, degradation, daddy kink, creampie, impregnation, arguments, rough sex, pregnancy sex, outdoors sex, slight choking, dacryphilia, self-consciousness, manhandling (if you squint), squirting.

word count: 8.1k

a/n: tysm for your request, i really enjoyed writing this one <3 it turned out a tiny bit more angsty than i intended it to but i promised it has a happy ending!

<flashback>

“Tha's righ', doll” Daryl cooed against your ear, harshly gripping your hips to keep you in place while he pounded your tight cunt at a fast pace. His chest pressing on your back, making your body shake with intense pleasure at his every thrust, each one deeper than the previous. You could feel his sweat wetting your body, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Takin' daddy's cock so well like a good lil’ slut” The contrast between praising and degrading turns your brain into putty. That man knew all your weakest spots, he always knew exactly what to say to make you weak in the knees, struggling to keep yourself on your feet. You couldn't think of anything else or anyone else in that moment but him and the feeling of his big cock almost ripping your little cunny apart.

Daryl's always been the sweetest to you, always making sure you were safe, giving you all the shoulders when you cried, but when it came to sex, he was always just so eager and desperate for you that he couldn't help but be rough. He made every fucking feel like the last one, as if it was his last chance to ever lay his hands on you. He made it count, making you wonder how you were capable to have lived so many years without that man before you met him.

You tried to keep quiet, careful not to catch the attention of any of those walking dead fuckers' roaming around the woods while Daryl harshly abused you against a tree, whispering the dirtiest words into your ears. But he wasn't making it easy on you, and despite your effort, your moans and cries were getting louder and louder as you got closer to your high. He reveled in the way you bit your lips and threw your head back to rest it on his shoulder. He took the opportunity to let go of your hips and wrap his big arm around your throat, his other palm now pressing against your lips in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Shhh...” He shushed you. “Be nice 'n quiet fer daddy, yea?” His teasing words and a small nibble on your earlobe from him were all it took to make your legs finally fail as you sank to your knees. Instead of holding you up, he nearly finished throwing you on the dirt, laying your body flat on it. The tickling of the leaves and the rough texture of the ground could almost bother you if you weren't so lost in pleasure. He got even rougher, if that was possible, banging his hips against your ass so hard that made your moans shaky and your eyes start tearing up.

He loved whenever he gave you so much pleasure that you cried on his cock, the sight of thick tears running down your cheeks only fueling his twisted desires for you.

“Aww, wha's the matter, sunshine?” He mocked you, his voice coming out a bit louder than he expected. His piercing blue eyes looked around for a moment, searching for any threats but never stopping railing you. When he found none, he fully returned his attention to you, noticing the way your moans had practically dissipated and your had your eyes shut tight, a clear sign that you were dangerously close to cumming.

“Gunna cum fer daddy?” The volume of his groans and grunts getting harder and harder to hold back. You weren't able to speak with his hand pressed against your mouth and almost couldn't breathe with his big bicep wrapped around your throat, but you managed to nod slightly.

“Fuck, 'm gunna cum!” His needy voice filled your empty mind and you felt his hips stuttering when the rhythm of his thrusts started faltering. “Gunna fill ya up, make ya heavy w' ma babies.” You widened your eyes out, it was the first time he ever said something like that. But you were willing to give that man all he wanted, make his every wish come true like your life depended on it. You wouldn't say no to him and honestly, the thought of caring his children strangely turned you on even further. A faint smirk managed to creep on your face.

“Ya wan' tha', beautiful? Ya wan' Daddy ta make ya pregnant, hm?” How could you ever say no to him when the neediness in his voice was so obvious?

“P-please, fuck a baby into me.” The strangled sound of your voice while you begged him to fill you up was the fuse for him to finally start shooting ropes of cum into your velvety walls. Your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you weren't able to stop your own orgasm from dominating all your senses. It was like the world stopped spinning and the whole Universe contributed to make that moment perfect.

As both of you came down from your highs, Daryl gently brushed a strand of hair off your cheek, tugging it behind your ear to place a soft kiss to your temper. In that moment, the sounds of your labored breathing as you struggled to catch your breath was all that could've been heard until he let out a light chuckle.

“Can't believe we did this.” You could hear a smile in his voice while he pressed his cheek against the back of your head for a last time before adjusting his position, sitting down on the dirt and gently grabbing your arms, helping you do the same. Even though you were in the middle of the woods, you couldn't care less about it. All you wanted was to be in Daryl's strong embrace. “But I'm glad we did” You whispered, snuggling his chest.

<end of flashback>

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~4 months later~

It still felt vivid.

It's like you could still feel his love from 4 months ago, the way he groped your body and made love to you like it was the last time. How ironic, if somebody told you that was actually the last time, you would have laughed right in their face. Now, as you unwrapped the towel off your naked body and tossed it aside to stare at yourself into the mirror, you wondered if you'd made the right choice, if you really should've let the heat of the moment get the best of you.

Your belly was round and your bellybutton was puffing out, an unusual look to you but it's been your reality for the past 4 months. You didn't really know how to feel about it. You were happy to be the one having the privilege to carry Daryl's baby, but at the same time it still felt so new and strange to you. And the way he felt so distant since the day when he knocked you up was not helping you feel any better about it.

He wasn't exactly neglectful of your needs as a pregnant woman. He was always around you, making sure you were safe, helping you through the symptoms of pregnancy, holding your hair up whenever you threw up. He was there, but at the same time, he wasn't.

4 months ago Daryl used to be so eager for you, always so thirsty for you. And now, he just left you aching for his touch. Whenever you tried to initiate some intimacy, he turned you down, leaving you confused at his strange behavior. He definitely wasn't the type of guy to refuse sex, at least not after knowing you, so you started wondering if you were the problem.

The stretch marks on your belly were getting more and more obvious as the time passed, your breasts all swelled up with milk. You gained some weight, and as you leaned in closer to check on your face on the mirror, you could see how round your face was getting.

Disgust.

That's what you felt when you looked at yourself. You were so sure your looks were the reason why Daryl wanted nothing to do with your body ever since you got pregnant. As that feeling filled up your whole body, you quickly started putting some clothes on, not able to look at yourself like that not even for one more second. Maybe he didn't like you in dresses, you wondered, trying to find a reasonable motive for his absence when it came to the moments of intimacy between you two that used to be so frequent and special in your relationship. Anyways, loose dresses were all that fit your body as your belly grew bigger and bigger each day.

It just broke your heart. The feeling of helplessness took over you as thick tears ran down your face, smearing the makeup you started to put on to see if it would make him even just a little bit interested in you. But just as all your other attempts, it was useless. You brought your soft palm to your mouth to muffle your sobs, but that only reminded you of how Daryl used to do the same exact thing to muffle your moans when he loved your body. More and more tears streamed down your cheeks as you reminisced your last time together like that.

You made a decision. You didn't want to suffer like that anymore, so you decided that you were gonna try to get his attention for the last time before shutting down completely. You didn't wanna give his love up, but you were so tired of practically begging for him only for him to brush you off every time. You sighed and looked at yourself on the mirror for the last time, wiping your tears away and taking a deep breath before going about your day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~Later that same day~

It was dark and Daryl still hadn't come home from his run. He was out scavenging, or hunting, you weren't even sure since you didn't bother to ask much. You had promised yourself that you were going to try to be intimate with him one last time, but that day he just vanished, leaving you waiting for him all day until you gave up waiting. You weren't only disappointed, you were almost angry at him, trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. But who were you trying to fool? That didn't make you feel better at all and you weren't sure if he noticed it.

It was happening again, that one familiar knot started forming in your throat as your lips pouted and you pulled the blanket over your head, feeling embarrassed at your own vulnerability. You brought a hand to your own belly, gently stroking it. Oh, how you loved that little bundle of happiness that was growing inside you. But at the same time, you felt so strange about it. You loved your baby, that's for sure, but you felt like it was the reason why Daryl didn't want you anymore. At the same time it made you hopeful of a new beginning in life, it was reminder of the day when Daryl stopped finding you attractive, even remotely.

Once again you weren't able to hold your sobs back, but this time, you were forced to abruptly swallow them down when you heard the creak sound of the door being gently pulled open. You knew who it was, and you almost wish you didn't.

“Pumpkin'?” Daryl's quiet voice filled the room as he called you that stupid nickname he only used when he knew you were feeling down. You didn't answer.

Light footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer to the bed before you felt the weight of his body on the edge of the mattress. “Y/N, hun'?” He called for you again, but when he got no answer for the second time, he reached for you, gently touching your arm from over the blanket.

“What do you want?" Your tone sounded a bit harsher than you intended to, but you didn't care. He sighed.

“I think we need ta talk, pumpkin'” He voice, making you even more frustrated.

“Quit calling me that, alright?” The muffled sound of your voice reached his ear, and he flinched a little at your sudden aggressiveness, removing his hand from you.

He was silent for a moment, digesting your strange reaction after speaking again with an even softer tone. “Aigh'.” He sighed. “Listen, Y/N...” It's like he was struggling to form a sentence. He was never really the type of person to have the right words or to know what to say to comfort somebody, but he tried nonetheless.

“I need ta know wha's happenin' if ya wan' me ta help.” He muttered. You almost felt guilty at the way you were treating him, but you had enough.

“Ugh, Daryl.” The way you said his name had a hint of scorn, a clear reflexion of the troubled feelings in your heart. You finally pulled the blanket off your face, lifting your body up to sit down on the mattress in a quick and almost aggressive motion. “Who the fuck said I need your help? Just leave me alone, ignore me like you always do.” You spitted out, looking deep into Daryl's widened out eyes. “I don't want you here.” You continued. You knew damn well you were saying all that because you thought that's how he felt, like some sort of revenge, but your heart was broken because of him. It was his fault and you were tired of pretending everything was okay. “Why don't you go fuck some other slut out there? Maybe they're better, thinner, prettier than me!” Your tone was filled with hurt as you voiced your insecurities. “Maybe you should be with them once and for all.” You practically whispered that last line, muttering under your breath.

The truth was you started considering the possibility of Daryl having an affair behind your back ever since you got pregnant. And you just couldn't take it, you couldn't help the way your heart shattered at the thought of Daryl putting his hand on another woman, making her feel good just how he used to do when he still loved you. You were so sure he hadn't left you yet just because he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing that he left a pregnant woman behind. You knew that was the only reason was he still bothered to even talk to you.

Daryl was so dumbfounded by your attitude, since you were usually such a sweet and caring person, that he freezed. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just sit there, looking obviously negativity affected by your harsh words, wondering what the hell did he do to deserve that kind of treatment.

“Y/N-” He started talking, but you were having none of it. You spent so long begging him attention that now you just didn't want it anymore. When he threatened to scoop closer in a final attempt to ease things out, you surprised him by pushing him away from you with your hand pressed on his chest. “Get out!" You practically yelled. That was the most shocked you've ever seen Daryl's face before. After a moment, he averted his gaze to the floor, looking lost in thought before standing up and nodding slowly, knowing better than to push you harder. He walked to the door and closed it behind him, finally leaving you alone as you wanted him to. Or at least that's what you thought.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ *One week later*

You haven't seen Daryl since your last one-sided argument. If you missed him before, now the feeling got even worse. Ever since he closed that door a week ago, you haven't even heard of him. Maybe he'd left you for good. But could you blame him? You literally kicked him out of your life like it didn't matter. But after all, he was the one that made it feel like it didn't matter. That's what you had to keep feeling yourself, trying to comfort your poor soul or make yourself feel any less guilty. It didn't really work, though.

You tried. When he was gone for the first day, you wasted no time before trying to make it up to all the time you lost longing for him. You flirted with random men and women, trying to catch a glimpse of that feeling you used to get when Daryl gave you attention, but it wasn't the same, it didn't feel remotely similar. Maybe pushing him away like that was a mistake, maybe you had really lost him.

But fuck it. You were pregnant with his baby and he still had the gut to leave you behind. You had every single right to be mad and to try to restart your life, this time away from him. Even though it had been only one week, it felt like an eternity, every second he wasn't there made you feel every cell on your body begging for him, but you couldn't give in.

Sigh.

Spencer. You noticed the way he looked at you before and after you got pregnant. His gaze didn't change, he still licked his lips and looked you up and down with that stupid smirk on his face everytime you walked by. He was often the reason for arguments between you and Daryl when you were still together, but now, there was nothing stopping you. Not that you were attracted to him exactly, to be honest, he kind of annoyed you, but you just wanted to try. You just wanted to give yourself a chance to be loved, actually loved, not only for your looks. Deep inside, you knew you were just needy to feel something, anything, but you couldn't be blamed for wanting to feel okay after such a long time of feeling neglected.

You turned your head to search for him just to notice he was already staring from afar. You turned your head to face forward again, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the way he looked at you. Now that Daryl was gone, that type of behavior wasn't unusual coming from Spencer. He got even more spunky than before, flirting with you every single time he had the opportunity to. You swallowed your pride, trying to convince yourself that you were actually into him, taking a moment to decide whether or not to approach him and try something. You knew he wouldn't reject you, you just needed to dominate your heart that was still very much in love with Daryl and move on with your life, and maybe trying something with someone new was the first step to finally get over him.

As you gathered up the nerve to walk over to Spencer, slowly turning your body, you gasped in surprise noticing that he was already standing behind you. You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear him approaching you.

“Easy there, doll.” He uttered. It felt weird to have anyone else that wasn't Daryl calling you pet names, but you quickly shook those thoughts away, trying to focus on the present. “Hey.” You answered, sounding significantly more uninterested than you meant to.

“What's eating you?” He pondered with a hint of playfulness in his voice and that stupid grin once again when he noticed your stiffness.

“Nothing.” You faked a smile. “What you been up to?” You tried to remain polite but flirty at the same time, trying your best to cover up how much you found him annoying. It was for the best, you thought. You just needed to adapt.

“Well...” He came closer. You had to fight all the urges to step away. “You know, the usual. I was just...” His fingers brushed your cheek before tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. Too close. But you continued playing along as he resumed his speech. “... Admiring your beauty.” God, could he get any cornier than that? It's like everyone that wasn't Daryl just looked so stupid trying to get your attention. There was you again, thinking about the archer. You sighed, failing to mask your lack of interest towards Spencer, but you managed to speak either way.

“Uh... Thanks...” You scratched the back of your head, feeling uncomfortable at his advances, but you tried to remind yourself that that whole thing meant a new start.

He looked so full of himself when he puffed his chest and had the audacity to say: “Can I follow you home?” You tilted your head in confusion. “Huh?” For the first time since you acknowledged his presence, he actually had your attention.

“Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams.” He said that as if it was the most genius thing one could say. You had to make physical effort not to throw up or burst out laughing right there and then. The hell was that supposed to mean? Were you really the type of woman to fall for corny pick-up lines? But... You didn't really had other options. You had to give him a chance, maybe he was the one.

Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything, so you just stood there with a stupid fake smile on your face. Spencer must've interpreted that as an invitation, because he leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You two weren't even 3 minutes into that conversation and he was already all over you. You wondered if that whole situation was awkward just for you, because he behaved as if he had you wrapped tight around his finger.

You really, really wanted to start running right away from him, but you were paralyzed, trying to decide if you should stay or go. But before you could make up your mind, he pulled you in by the back of your head, connecting your lips together.

Ugh.

It was probably the most awkward kiss of your life, as if you just forgot how to kiss in that moment. You widened your eyes out at the uncalled situation, and as he licked, bit and kissed your lips, yours remained stiff, like he was kissing you but you weren't kissing him. You felt deeply disgusted. What were you doing? Just like your lips, your arms were rigid on your sides, but his hands were roaming all over your body. You felt assaulted, even though you were allowing him to do that.

You wondered how the hell you ended up there: pregnant, with a missing boyfriend and making out with some douchebag out of emotional deprivation. In that moment, it finally clicked, you were just trying to fill the hole Daryl's absence left in your heart, and putting up with Spencer's audacious manners was no way of dealing with grief.

You finally pushed him away, accidentally sounding too annoyed. “See you around.” You spitted out before turning around and leaving him standing there in confusion, or maybe confidence, you didn't know since you didn't bother to study his reaction before quickly entering the house you were settled in in Alexandria.

You closed the door behind you, pressing your hands on your face, fighting the urge to scream and let all that frustration out. You slowly slid your back against the wooden door until your bottom reached the floor. If one word could describe you right now, it was helpless. For the hundredth time in the past few months, you started crying. It was like it was all you knew how to do since you lost control of your life. Oh, how you regretted that one moment 4 months ago where you slipped, causing your life to be destroyed right before your eyes while not being able to do a thing about it. Now not only you felt ugly, but you felt ugly and lonely. Your sobs got louder and louder as you wrapped your arms around your legs, lowering your head to press your forehead to your knees.

Knock-knock

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door. You abruptly interrupted your crying, feeling embarrassed at the possibility that someone's heard you like that. After a few seconds, you heard another knock. You sighed.

“Leave me alone...” You muttered loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. You knew it was probably Carol coming to visit, maybe bringing you some cookies or something like that to make you feel better. It was so sweet of her, but you hated how everyone was treating you ever since Daryl disappeared. You just couldn't take the look in their eyes, the so obvious pity they felt. After all, you were a recently abandoned mother, and Carol along with your other group mates, just wanted to be there for you. Little did they know they were just making it worse.

When you were starting to think the person finally left, you heard a third knock on the door. Whoever was there, didn't seem to be giving up soon. You almost felt grateful for having someone give a shit about you, but deep down you just wanted to be left alone. You breathed out for a last time before standing up with difficulty due to your heavy pregnant belly and reaching for the doorknob, contemplating whether you should let them in or not. Then, you turned it and slowly pulled the door open.

Your eyes remained glued to the floor, not having the courage to look into anyone's eyes right now. Then, to your surprise, a familiar hoarse voice made its way to your ears.

“The hell was tha'?” You swiftly lifted you chin up, locking eyes with him, the man who left you when you needed him the most. He definitely had seen your pathetic attempt of feeling appreciated with Spencer. For a millisecond, you were actually relieved to see Daryl, but quickly enough anger flooded your senses once again. It's like it was all coming back to you, the same exact feeling from one week ago when you saw him for the last time making your blood boil once again. How did he dare to disappear into the world and then come back as if nothing happened?

You didn't wanna waste no more time with him and that situation anymore, it was just too nerve-wracking and you just needed a break from all that. So you aggressively pushed the door aiming to slam it on his face, but he was more cunning and placed a hand on the way, stopping it from closing all the way.

“Please, Y/N!” He almost shouted, visibly impatient. You turned your back and started walking further into the house, ignoring his calls for you.

“Can ya please just talk ta me?!” He continued, following you around. You remained trying to disconsider his presence.

“Why r ya doin' this fer, woman?!” Now, he finally yelled. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you. In that moment, you felt like any hint of the caring man you once loved had faded away forever. The feeling hit you like a truck and you stopped your angry steps, turning around so your back was facing him. You couldn't stop your tears from falling not even if you wanted to, and suddenly, all your anger was replaced with a deep sadness. You weren't even trying to muffle your loud noises, sniffing and sobbing hard. When he saw you like that, he decided to just drop it and pretend like he hadn't seen you kissing that bastard. It felt a sacrifice to him, but he didn't want to make you feel worse than you already did.

For a few moments, Daryl gave you some space, not trying to startle you or make things worse. Then, after a while of silence and almost feeling as if you were alone in the room, you felt a warm breath hitting your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, something you hadn't felt in such a long time.

He studied your reaction, and when he felt it was okay to touch you, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back closer to his chest. That made you cry even harder, the sting in your heart getting worse. But at the same time, it felt so good to finally be in his embrace once again. You had missed his strong arms and his warmth so bad, it was a mix of confusion and relief. You wanted to push him away, yell at him, tell him to go, but the second his scent of cigarettes and wet grass filled your nose, you knew you wouldn't be able to. That's how much you missed him, though you weren't ready to asmit it just yet.

“Jus'... lemme talk to ya..." He whispered, placing a soft kiss to the skin behind your ear. And just like that, you melted in his hands. You had no idea what to say, but you were willing to listen to whatever came out of his mouth.

“I jus' wanna know wha' happened. I understand, 'm s'pposed ta know and 'm a dick fer not knowing, but... If ya don' talk ta me, I... I jus' won' know how ta make things righ'.” He was so gentle with his words, so caring. He sounded actually worried, making the situation so puzzling to you. You opened to mouth to speak, but nothing came out of it.

“Ya said sumthin' 'bout me goin' out with other women...” He spoke after a few seconds. “Wha'... Wha' was that all about? I would never...” Daryl didn't really have a way with his words, but you could see he was putting effort into talking to you and trying to fix things. The way he kept you tightly into his hug and his fingers brushed gently against your arm were actually being helpful, and your sobs slowly faded away as your tears stopped falling.

“You don't want me anymore." That's all you managed to speak before you felt tears threatening to fall once again, but you inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to keep calm. You couldn't see his face, but Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Wha'd'ya mean, hun'?” Those pet names never failed to make you weak in the knees. “I couldn't ever, ever stop wantin' ya. Ever.” He whispered the last word. As he did so, he traveled one hand down your plump belly, caressing it ever so gently. It almost made you want to cry again.

“Then where did you go? Why'd you leave me? Why'd ya even come back?” Even though you stopped crying, your voice was still unstable.

“...'Cuz ya asked me ta and I... I wanted ta respect yer choice. 'M here now 'cuz... I can't live withoutcha. I... need a second chance.” Now, he was the one with a shaky voice. Seeing him like that broke your heart.

“I told you to leave because I didn't wanna force you to be with me. I didn't...” You gulped. “I didn't wanna baby trap you or something like that, I don't know...” You sniffed. Throughout that whole conversation, you kept your arms stiff. But then, you lifted one of them to wipe your nose with back of your hand.

“...I don' get it.” He mouthed. You sighed, finally turning to look at him. After such a long time, looking into his eyes was a remedy to your infirm heart.

“Look, Daryl, I know I'm not in my best shape, alright? I know this whole 'baby' thing changed me, I know that my body ain't the same anymore. All these stretch marks, my face, my belly, I know it all deforms me and...” He just stood there with an unreadable expression. “...And you have every reason not to find me attractive anymore, and I'm just so sorry that I kept pushing you into having sex with me, I should've just given you some space, I...” Those stubborn tears you've been trying to hold back finally get the best of you. “I'm sorry that I snapped at you, I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch, you... You shouldn't see me like this, and... And I-”

Daryl interrupted your babbling nonsense, grabbing your face with both of his hands and pulling you in for what felt like your first kiss. It was probably the most gentle you've ever been kissed in your whole life. You didn't know you craved the warmth of his calloused hands against your wet cheeks that badly until you had it. Everytime a thick tear dared to run down your beautiful face, he quickly wiped it away with his thumbs. After what felt like an eternity, he slowly broke the kiss, but remained with his forehead pressed against yours.

“Yer the most beautiful woman 've ever seen.” His sweet whispers made you finally feel safe after feeling lost for so long. “N there's nuthin', nuthin' in this world tha' could ever change tha'.” You were left speechless as he contradicted you. “If only ya knew how badly I wanted ta touch ya... It's not easy seein' you walk 'round all heavy with ma babies, knowin' I was the one tha' made ya like this n not bein' able to eat you up alive... God, ya look so...” He let out a guttural grunt. “...So fuckin' hot.”

Your mind was rushing. So this whole time he didn't think you looked terrible? He actually... Liked it? In your head, it made no sense.

“If you wanted me so badly, then why did you reject me over and over again?” There was a very obvious hint of hurt in your voice, like you were trying hard to believe his words but your own insecurities were stopping you. He averted his gaze from your eyes for the first ever since you broke the kiss. For a moment, he looked in a contemplative state.

“I got scared.” He admitted. Your eyes narrowed.

“...Of what?” You asked. What could ever make Daryl, the most brave man you know, scared?

“Hurtin' ya.” You tilted your head, still not convinced of his reasons. Your silence served as a cue for him to resume speaking. “Seein' you like this... I jus' wanted ta protect you. I... I never thought I'd ever have a child of my own 'n... I don' know how ta say this, but...” His thumb brushed against your cheek once again. “...I thought ya were doin' this fer me. I thought maybe, I dunno... Maybe you felt like ya had to be there fer me, y'know, sexually...” He was stuttering and struggling to speak his mind. “I felt like if I said yes... I'd be forcin' ya.” He placed a peck on your soft lips. “But I do wan' ya. 'Ve been wantin' ta have ma way with ya fer so long...” He closed his eyes.

“Then what's stopping you?” You challenged him. You almost felt stupid for thinking he didn't want you that whole time and he was actually just trying to protect you. As those words left your mouth, his eyes snapped open, and suddenly, they had a different aura to them. They were darker.

I'm a swift motion, Daryl pulled you in for another kiss, but this time, a more needy one. Though his touch showed he was aching for you, it was still gentle. He didn't wanna hurt you, after all you were still pregnant.

He gently bit down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before letting it snap back. His piercing gaze found yours and the way he smirked at you made your body tremble in anticipation.

His hands found the strap of your dress, slightly fidgeting with the tied bow strap over your shoulder just to tease you. And when he finally undid it, your dress slid down your body and onto the floor, revealing your semi-bareness to him.

That's when it kicked again, your self-consciousness taking a hold of you and in a flash, you felt the urge to cover yourself up. Daryl hadn't seen you naked ever since the last time you were intimate together, you two even stopped showering at the same time due to all of the previous misunderstandings. It almost felt like one of those dreams where you're completely naked in school, vulnerably standing in front of the judging eyes of everyone else, even though you were still in your underwear. As you felt your face warming up in embarrasement, you shifted your hands to your swollen breasts and your legs instinctively closed.

Your shy manners didn't go unnoticed by Daryl's attentive eyes. “Hun'...” He brought his hands to your own, softly stroking them until you eased your grasp on your breasts. “Ya can trust me.” He murmured. You took a deep breath and you finally let your hands fall to the side, fully revealing your bra to his sight. A smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth and he looked lost in your beauty.

“God, look at those tits...” He said mainly to himself. The way your breasts were all swollen, all heavy with milk awakened desires within him he didn't even know he had. He reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, removing it and tossing it aside.

He wondered how he was able to deny his attention to those beauties for so long. If he had properly talked to you about his intentions from the beginning, probably none of that misinterpretation would've happened, he thought. But that time wasn't one to mourn, but to cherish. Without warnings, he grasped one of your nipples with his mouth like a starving man while gently but firmly squeezing your other one. You let out a small squeak of pleasure, blushing at his sudden eagerness. Some of your milk leaked, and he was quick to lap at the liquid, wasting none of it. The sweet and mild taste of your essence coated his tongue, sending shock waves of ecstasy all the way down to his cock and in no time, his pants started feeling way too tight. But in that moment, he just wanted to make you feel good and appreciated, so he payed little to no mind to his forming erection.

“Ya taste so fuckin' good.” He groaned against your skin. You were too embarrassed to say anything, but you loved when he talked dirty like that to you, it made your pussy even wetter if that was even possible. He kept his attention to your breasts for a while, teasing, flicking and sucking on them until your nipples felt sore. Then, he made a trail of kisses from your under boob until his lips reached your belly button, slowly sinking down on his knees. He placed soft kisses all over your round belly.

“Look at ya, carryin' ma babies like a good girl.” He looked up at you for a moment, biting his lips at you. You gave him a shy smile, clearly affected by his sweet praising, and he found you so adorable like that. He'd been wanting to put his hands on you for so, so long and he finally had the opportunity to. You looked prettier than ever and he was determined to convince you.

“Let's get ya settled, yea?” And with that, he carefully picked you up bridal style, paying attention not to hurt you. He carried you to the couch, laying you down on it on your back, too eager to go upstairs and to your room, he wanted it there and then. Now, feeling a little more confident thanks to all his praising, your legs instinctively spread themselves out for him, revealing a wet stain on your white panties, clear sign of your arousal.

That sight made a smirk creep on his face, his hands roaming up and down your legs as he pulled them even further apart. “Is this all fer me?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. You were so visibly surrendered to him, he could see how much you missed him because he shared the same exact longing.

His hands slowly made their way down to your core, his thumb gently rubbing your clit in circling motions over the fabric of your panties. You were so desperate to feel anything that you felt like his most subtle touch could make you cum in the same second. Still, you wanted more. You needed more.

“D-Dar...” You muttered under your breath, throwing your head back as his finger starting working your clit a bit faster and adding a little more pressure. “Wha' is it, doll, hm? Tell me what ya need.” His teasing words only made you more hungry for him. “Mmm...” You protested, struggling to put your desires into words. “C'mon, jus' say the word and I'll give it ta ya.” He encouraged you with the sweetest tone, slowing down his motions against your extremely sensitive clit just to tease you.

“Eat my fucking cunt like you mean it.” You spitted out, your voice all shaky with need, and even you were surprised at your own bold words.

“Don' need ta tell me twice.” He said before pulling your panties to the side in one swift motion and diving into your wetness, quickly starting his assault on your clit and lapping at your folds. He practically buried his face into you, eating you out like it was the last time. Your back arched in that same second and you already felt embarrassingly close to orgasming. He noticed the way you squirmed and moaned for him, grasping his hair with both hands and humping his face, smearing your slickness all over his handsome features.

And he let you use him for your pleasure however you pleased. That night was about you and about making up to all that wasted time. “D-Daryl...!” Your tone was one of warning. You were barely two minutes in but you could already feel the first orgasmic contractions forming in your lower belly. The way you said his name, he knew damn well you were about to make a mess on his face, and he was all in for it.

You threw your head back and let out a loud high-pitched moan as you coated his tongue with your wetness, and all he could do was hum against your sensitive skin, sending vibrations all over your cunt and intensifying the sensation. Despite your first signs of overstimulation, he continued enthusiastically lapping at your juices until you were a quivering mess under his tongue. You had to manually give his head a very gentle push so you could have a break from that intense pleasure. You chuckled at his excitement to please you. If you had ever felt insecure about any of that before, you couldn't remember it.

He lifted his head up, placing tender kisses on your pregnant belly once again, stroking it lovingly. “Ya want me ta fuck ya, darlin'?” He said as he crawled up your body, getting face to face with you. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing his lips against yours in a sensual dance. “'M takin' that as a yes” He voiced with a hint of playfulness. The thought of being inside you made his cock throb even harder inside his pants, and he knew he just couldn't wait any longer. He reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and taking it off. Then, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pushing it down his thighs alongside with his black briefs just enough to free his cock.

Oh, you missed it so fucking badly. You two used to fuck like rabbits before, and after going 4 whole months without getting dicked down by your man, you were more than desperate to feel him. Now, you finally understood your pregnancy wasn't any type of obstacle for sharing pleasure with him.

You stared down at his now visible erection. He was girthy, and you could feel your cunt stretching out just by looking at him. A small droplet of pre-cum threatened to run down his length, from the tip all the way down to his full balls. When you averted your gaze to his face, you could see he was admiring you while you took in the sight of his cock. Your eyes got all sparkly in anticipation, sharing a knowing look with him. You didn't have to say anything and he was always brushing his tip on your slit.

He gently tapped your clit with his tip, watching closely for your reaction, his smirk not fading away not even for one second. Your pussy was so slippery with your wetness that when he pressed his cock against your slit, it went in with ease.

“Fuck.” You moaned in unison. The feeling of his cock going in for the first time was always one of your favorite parts of fucking Daryl. He tried to hold back a little, still careful not to hurt you since you were pregnant after all, but when you wrapped your legs around his waist, he couldn't help but bury his whole cock inside you in one harsh thrust, yearning loud moans from both of you.

You didn't care at all if it hurt or not, you just needed to feel him inside you. He shut his eyes tight and it was obvious that he was fighting the urge to burst right in that same second. He gritted his teeth and leaned in to press his forehead against yours, slowly starting to move his hips. He wasn't exactly thrusting, it was more like humping his cock inside you, which made you grow more and more impatient. You needed him to pound you.

“P-please, Daryl, just... just fuck me already.” The clear frustration on your voice did it for him, and in no time, he started harshly banging his hips against yours, giving you no time to adjust to the pace. Squelching sounds, your moans and the sound of your skins slapping against each other filled the room in a dirty orchestra. The intense smell of sex made you dizzy.

You were so cock-hungry you could fuck that man for days straight without breaks, and as he gently groped your pregnant belly, you knew he wanted you just as much. You couldn't hold back a smile at the sensation of his palms and fingers gently caressing you, contrasting with his hard thrusts inside your pussy.

It was your favorite whenever he treated you like that, with a mix of tenderness and an urge to absolutely rail you. “Fuck, feels so fuckin' good inside this wet cunt.” The archer almost sounded vulnerable. “'M gunna give ya even more babies, princess.” He whispered, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. The thought of feeling his warm load inside you again made your mind rush and once again, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your high.

As the pleasure grew more intense, your tight walls clenched around Daryl's thick cock, making his legs tremble as he struggled to keep his composure. “Shit baby, if ya keep squeezin' me tight like tha' 'm not gunna last long.” He admitted through gritted teeth. “Don't hold back, give it to me.” Your encouragement words only fueled Daryl's desires even further.

You felt so full, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper, filling you up to the brim. He was still holding onto your round belly, gently not to hurt you, and when you clenched your cunt around him one last time, he moaned louder than ever before.

“Fuckin' take it!” His whole body was shaking as his orgasm coursed through his body. The sight of him like that was so sexy, so dirty and raw that you couldn't help but squirt all over his cock. You didn't even know you could do that, and Daryl looked just as surprised as you as you drenched his cock and lower belly with your arousal. He buried his length deep inside you one last time as the final spurts of his warm cum coated your insides, keeping that position.

“I love ya, Y/N. Dontcha ever forget that again, woman.” He said, placing sweet little pecks all over your face, making you giggle like a little child. “Yer stuck with me. Both of ya.” His hand never left your pregnant belly that whole time, and now, he gently brushed his thumb on it.

“I love you more.” You confessed, bringing a hand to his cheek to cup it, feeling the rough texture of his salt-and-pepper facial hair against your soft hand. As he slightly shifted his position with his cock still deep inside you, you felt how he was still rock hard and ready for you. After such a long waiting, he wasn't ready to stop just yet.

“Round two?” You asked, already predicting his answer.

“Fuck yeah.”

a/n: hi there!! just passing by to thank you for reading this. i know it's not even close to perfect but it took me 10+ hours to write, so i really appreciate you if you read it this far! as i've said before, i'm a beginner writer, so i'm still on the process of adapting and i'm really thankful for all the support you've been showing me. see ya!

[suashii]

— 𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ injuries ﾉ pet names ( darlin', sweetheart, doll :3 ) ﾉ mentions of food

so i wrote about horse riding but. . . know very little about horse riding! i did my best to research but there may be some details i got wrong so apologies in advance!

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“that’s it, pretty girl, nice and easy.”

the horse beneath you sighs and you do the same, relaxation and contentment in the breath you let go of. it’s been a while since you’ve gone riding, a few years at least, but being sat on a saddle with reins in your hands feels as natural as it used to when you’d ride nearly every day of the summer. you’re lucky that your favorite mare—clover—is still healthy enough to take out.

you gently squeeze your legs into clover’s sides in a silent signal for her to move from a trot to a canter. the sequence of her hoof beats effortlessly switches from the two-beat gait to one of three beats and her pace quickens. the wind against your face is stronger now but you welcome the sensation, a small smile making its way to your face.

as a kid, riding was fun and exciting more than anything else but as you’ve grown into an adult, the activity has become something more cathartic—a release of sorts. your stress slips away when you’re on the saddle, lost in the summery breeze. you don’t allow a second for the thoughts that constantly nag at you to linger. all of your focus is granted to clover and the field ahead, to how you feel here and now and how you wish you could feel like this all the time.

unfortunately for you, nothing lasts forever.

you hear the dog before you see her, barking discernible in the distance. clover must, too, her ears pointing back to listen more closely to the sound approaching from behind. as the barking grows louder, the horse’s neck tenses, and it only takes a second more for her to decide that the noise is worth investigating. you’re in alert mode now, too—no, it’s probably closer to panic mode. it’s been a while since you’ve had to worry about the horse getting spooked and even then you had your grandpa or parents to rely on to make sure nothing got out of hand.

you don’t have time to even think about what the right thing to do in this situation is before clover spots the dog bounding towards the both of you.

“clove—!” you try to calm her down, to let her know that the dog isn’t a threat that she should be scared of, but it’s far too late. before you can comprehend what’s happening, clover is rearing. the motion combined with your loose hold on the reins is enough to send you flying off the horse’s saddle. a scream is ripped from your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut at being in the air, destined to fall.

you hit the ground with an audible thud.

pain courses through your body—your back, your shoulders, your head. everything hurts and hot tears spring to the corners of your eyes but they pool there, refusing to stream down your cheeks. despite all the pain, the growing soreness, you find your mind wandering. where did clover run off to? what was the dog doing out here alone? she rarely leaves the house by herself. someone is yelling, they’re calling your name. is it boothill?

“shit, little lady,” he shakily breathes, “you okay?”

relief washes over you and for a short second, you think that you’ve never been happier to hear the farmhand’s voice. it’s tinged with concern, a characteristic you have yet to see him display—especially for you. it doesn’t stop in his voice either, you can feel it in how he takes a hold of your shoulders, his grip firm but not tight enough to cause you any unnecessary pain.

you take the risk of finally opening your eyes and instead of being met with the sun’s blinding rays, boothill’s face crowds your vision. his eyebrows are pulled together and for once, there’s no smirk or grin playing at his lips. upon seeing that you’re conscious, the tension in boothill’s forehead lessens. “there she is.”

his voice is soft, like if he speaks too loud he’ll break you. though it’s unlike him to be so mindful, you appreciate what you imagine is the temporary change. he opens his mouth to continue but before he can get another word out, the border collie, missy, nudges between the two of you as if she senses something is wrong. boothill shoos her away before turning his attention back to you. “you okay? what happened?”

you think back on the moments that led to this—you laid out on your back in the grass. “missy… i think she scared clover. she threw me off.”

that’s right, you have no idea where she went after being so startled or if she’s okay, at that.

“where is clover?” you dart up into a sitting position, palms against the grass. it’s a bad idea and you face the consequences of it immediately, head throbbing and the dull pain throughout your limbs becoming all the more noticeable. you suck in a sharp breath in response to the discomfort but realize that the pain you’re in doesn’t top your concern for the horse. “is she still around here? i need to go find her.”

“woah, woah, woah, hold your horses.” boothill frowns. he stands up and holds both of his hands out to help you do the same. for once, you don’t think about the underlying meaning of having your hands touch his, you just grab a hold and let him pull you up. you turn your head in every direction you can in search of clover, readying to pick any of them to start walking in. though, you can’t, not with the way boothill is holding your hands hostage. his gray eyes bore into yours. “you aren’t going anywhere but to the hospital.”

“what? no.” you shake your head and try to pull away but boothill doesn’t budge. the longer he holds onto you, the more aware you become of his touch—how warm his hands are and how, even though they’re rough and calloused, his palms are more comforting than you care to admit. “i don’t need a hospital. i’m fine.”

“listen darlin’, people who have just been thrown off horses ain’t known for their good judgment.” he squeezes your hands but then seems to think better of it, loosening his grip but continuing to hold them. he gets his message across though, with the hand squeeze and the almost desperate look in his eyes. you’ve never seen him so uneasy, heard him speak so seriously. his new demeanor has your feet glued to their spot on the ground and your gaze glued to his. “you’re going to the hospital.”

you’re rarely one to jump at the opportunity to agree with boothill but maybe he’s right. you’re running on adrenaline right now and your mind isn’t in the best place—you’re worried about the wrong things. and if the topic is important enough to have boothill practically pleading with you, you should take it just as seriously as he is.

“fine, i’ll go, but you need to find clover before we do.” that came off a little more demanding than you meant it to. you add, “please.”

he clicks his tongue and groans before telling you, “alright, i’ll find your damn horse.”

● ● ●

boothill is a man of his word and tracks down clover, putting her back in the stable before whisking you away to the hospital. the ride there feels like a visit to the doctor itself with the way the farmhand practically interrogates you about your symptoms. he’s concerned but can’t help but laugh when you tell him that he’s exacerbating any head trauma you may have sustained by making you think so hard.

despite your initial resistance to boothill’s insistence on going to the hospital, you’re thankful for his urging. turns out he was right to be worried—you got a concussion.

your helmet helped soften the blow but the physician who explained your diagnosis still recommended a few days off work to rest and recover. it’s not the best news to receive but considering things could have been much worse, you’re grateful to walk away with a relatively minor injury.

and if your doctor had any anxiety about you ignoring his advice, it was misplaced. because boothill has personally made it his responsibility to be sure you get better.

as soon as the two of you arrived back at the house, he steered you into the living room, sat you on the couch, and disappeared into the kitchen with a demand for you to stay put. you’re tempted to argue but your head hurts too much so you cross your arms instead, closing your eyes and resting your head on the couch cushion.

it doesn’t take long for him to return and his hands are full when he does—a glass of water in one, an orange precariously rolling on a plate in the other, and a bottle of pain medication tucked under one of his arms. he sets the drink and pills on the coffee table before plopping down on the couch beside you, the dip in the cushion enough to make you open your eyes.

upon grabbing your attention, boothill jerks his head in that direction. “take a couple of those.”

you sit up and unscrew the bottle, shaking out two of the pills and popping them in your mouth before taking a few sips of the water he grabbed for you. a beat of silence passes before you speak up. “you know, i could have done all this myself.”

“i’m sure you could have,” he tells you with a grin, hands busy peeling the skin from the orange. it’s still all in one piece. impressive, you think, but you aren’t surprised. it seems like boothill is good at everything he does. “just thought you might enjoy having me at your beck and call.”

you frown. what does he think you are? some princess who needs a servant? “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’, darlin’.” he slides the plate of peeled orange slices across the coffee table so you can eat them when you’re ready. he wipes his hands on his jeans before standing up and stuffing them in his pockets.

the farmhand is on his way to the door when he says, “i’m off, but holler for me if you need anything, sweetheart.” 

you never thought you’d see the day you would stop boothill from leaving.

“wait, before you go…” he stops and turns around, eyebrows slightly raised in silent question, urging you to go on. you had more courage to say what was on your mind when he wasn’t looking at you. though, you know it’s only right to let him know that you appreciate all he’s done for you today. so, you turn your gaze to the floor and let it spill out. “thank you for finding clover. and for taking me to the hospital. and for this.” you gesture to the fruit.

there’s a flash of sincerity that passes over his features before that annoying smile makes its way back to his lips. “so you can say thank you.”

you don’t know what kind of response you were expecting, but you should have seen this coming. it’s like he’s hardwired to tease you, even when you’re being genuine. “you can leave now, boothill.”

“yeah, yeah, i’ll get out of your hair.” in contradiction to his words, he stays put. and you can’t find it in you to be upset that he does because the humor has left his face, replaced by earnestness. “but you’re welcome, doll. it was really no trouble.”

he finally takes his leave and when you hear the door close, you let out a frustrated groan and lay your head back on the cushion. that nasty fall must have done more damage than you thought. why else would your heart be working overtime over a simple change of expression?

you shake your head to get rid of the unwelcome thoughts—thoughts of how generous and caring he actually might be—before you think better of the motion. it hurts your head and makes you wonder how long it’ll take before the pain pills kick in. they’ll probably work better if you have something on your stomach.

your eyes fall to the plate boothill left for you.

orange slices should do.

thank u for giving this a read! reblogs and comments are appreciated -`♡´-

[imaginespazzi]

Part 6: To Trying Again

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

I don't wanna mess this thing up (I don't wanna push too far)

(In which an "evil" writer might surprise you guys just a little bit with this part)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 5.6K

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies! This is sort of a filler-ish short chapter though I do think it's important to both plot and character development. I'd like to preface this by saying I've never been to Minsk or Park Pieramohi so I'm very much going off of pictures. Editing and I remain on very, very bad terms so pretty please let me know of typos so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

July 2018 

“You’re being too loud,” Azzi whisper-screams at the blonde girl in front of her as she closes the door to her room behind her with a little too much force. 

Paige turns her head back every-so-slightly with a pronounced eye roll, “will you please relax.”

“I would if you’d just be a little more careful,” Azzi glares, taking cautious steps as if the sound of her sneakers across the carpeted floor could potentially wake up any of the coaches. 

“Azzi,” Paige says exasperatedly, “the coaches are all the way on the other end of the hallway. Besides, they're probably all sleeping.”

And despite her stubbornness, Azzi can concede that Paige has a point there. It’s nearly midnight and the game against Spain earlier in the day might have had a final score that made it seem like the USA U17 women's basketball team had won handily, but the game itself had been draining to say the least. The post-victory dinner had featured a bunch of worn out teenagers gobbling their food without much conversation and a cohort of coaches who seemed like they needed an hour of drinking followed by good night’s sleep. But even the exhaustion of the day hadn’t been enough to prevent Paige Bueckers and her diabolical mind from coming up with the idea to sneak out into the city of Minsk. 

“No,” Azzi had said immediately even before the words had been spoken, that shimmering glint in Paige’s eyes a dead giveaway as she sidled up to Azzi at the salad bar. 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Paige had pouted. 

“You never say anything good.”

“That’s crazy. You’re so mean to me.”

“So mean,” Azzi had nodded in agreement, “so how about you go and bother someone else.”

“Azzi please. We haven’t had just Paige and Azzi time in ages. Don’t want someone else. Just want you.”

And after that well, there wasn’t really any chance of saying no. Azzi’s only fifteen and she doesn’t know that much about love, but sometimes when Paige looks at her with those earnest blue eyes and a smile that promises i’ll always be here, she thinks the way her heart starts to flutter erratically to a beat of and i wouldn’t want anyone else to stay, might just be the start of her finding out. 

“See,” Paige grins triumphantly as the two girls find their way out of their hotel and onto the street, “told you we wouldn’t get caught. Shit’s just too damn easy.”

Azzi rolls her eyes at the attitude, “don’t tempt fate.”

“Fate’s got nothing in front of Paige Bueckers. I make my own fate,” Paige winks as she links her arms through Azzi. 

It’s a mundane amount of contact, absolutely nothing special to it, but Azzi feels herself shiver in spite of the humidity that’s circling around them. She doesn’t quite know how it happened. One moment she was staring across the court, judging the skinny blonde practicing free throws and coming to the conclusion that she’d be no threat; the next moment said girl was next to her on the plane back from Argentina and Azzi, a self-admitted introvert, found herself rattling off about everything and nothing with this girl who seemed to have discovered the keys to all of Azzi’s locks. Hours of talking had bled into days and days had bled into months and despite the fact that facetime had taken the place of in-person conversations, the word friendship had seemed too cavalier a word to describe the relationship Paige and Azzi were building. 

Paige had whittled away all of Azzi’s carefully constructed armor until she was buried deep underneath her skin and Azzi’s sure there’s no knife in the world sharp enough to carve the blonde out from where she lives underneath Azzi’s ribcage. Azzi doesn’t want anyone to try and dig her out. She  thinks she might bleed out if they do. 

“Az,” Paige whines, waving her free hand in the younger girl’s face, “are you even paying attention to me?”

“That depends,” Azzi hums, “are you saying anything interesting?”

“I’m always saying something interesting.”

“You’re always saying something. The interesting is subjective,” Azzi teases, laughing when Paige pouts. 

“I sneak you out to give you an adventure and this is how you repay me? With insults?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her heart.

“Walking boring streets is not an adventure. Virginia has streets too.”

“It’s not about the streets, it’s about where the streets lead to,” Paige says with grave seriousness. 

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “are you entering your philosopher Paige era?”

“I’d make a good philosopher,” Paige waggles her own eyebrows as they two girls find themselves entering park Pieramohi. 

“Virginia has parks too, you know Paige?” Azzi says skeptically. 

Paige lets out a dramatic sigh, “will you just keep walking, woman. Sometimes I wonder if you even like me?”

It’s said like a joke but there’s a hint of insecurity beaded into it that buzzes in Azzi’s ears as she wraps a careful hand around Paige’s wrist, stopping the two of them where they are. 

“Hey,” she whispers softly, nudging the older girl, “you don’t ever have to wonder with me. I’m always gonna like you Paige. Even if you’re a pain in my ass half the time.”

“Had to ruin it with the last part, didn't you?” Paige complains but her eyes twinkle at the reassurance, “Just so you know I’m gonna be a pain in your ass forever.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Azzi promises as they continue strolling through the park. 

The silence is peaceful and the breeze that flows around them is like a comforting hug. And Azzi thinks that she’d be okay if there wasn’t a destination for them to get to, as long as the journey came with Paige by her side. 

“We’re almost there,” Paige says slowly, a slightly nervous edge to her voice. 

“You sure you’re not just getting us lost-” the teasing quip dies on Azzi’s tongue as she stares at the scenery in front of her. They’re standing on the edge of a bridge overlooking a lake and it looks like something out of a disney fairytale; the picturesque image of green trees silhouetted against a magically starry night is captured perfectly on the still surface of the water that’s flowing beneath. As Azzi peers across the railing, Paige right next to her, she feels her breath hitch at the reflection that peers up at her. Because the view in front of them is beautiful but Paige’s eyes are on Azzi and she’s staring at her as if the view is nothing in comparison. 

“C’mon,” the blonde says softly, lacing her fingers through Azzi’s as she tugs her along, “I have a plan.”

“There’s more?” Azzi asks in awe as Paige guides her to the gazebo in the middle of the bridge. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige says and oh- that shy smile is different. Azzi doesn’t think she’s seen that one yet and she makes a mental note to herself, to memorize it and store it along with all of Paige’s other smiles that make Azzi’s insides swoop like a rollercoaster. 

She watches intently as Paige begins to peruse through the purple rucksack she’d been carrying. The first thing out of it is a picnic blanket and then a horde of different snacks, all of Azzi’s favorites. Two plastic champagne glasses are next and then a sheepish grin as Paige pulls out a bottle of soda. 

“Couldn’t quite risk trying to get alcohol,” Paige scratches at her neck. 

“Next time maybe,” Azzi shrugs as she helps Paige set up the arrangement and she feels herself fluttering at the thought of doing this again and again and again. 

“How’d you even find this place?” she asks as Paige begins to pour out the soda. 

“You ever heard of googling?”

Azzi rolls her eyes at Paige’s teasing smirk, “how’d you even have time to do this?”

Paige is quiet for a second as she passes Azzi her glass, “wanted to do something special for us,” she says quietly, keeping her eyes intently on what she’s doing as she pours out a drink for herself, “wasn’t hard to find time for you.”

“You could be a poet, Paige Bueckers,” Azzi whispers and she knows it’s unfair of her but she thinks it anyway. As long as all your poems are about me. 

“The poets are lucky I chose a ball instead of a pen. They’d be out of a job otherwise,” Paige says, trying to ease back into the more familiar arrogance. 

“Always so humble,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes as she holds up her glass, “alright what are toasting to?”

“I came up with this whole thing. You can come up with a toast,” Paige scrunches her nose and Azzi shakes her head at it. 

She thinks for a second before smiling brightly at the girl in front of her, “let’s just keep it simple and toast to us.”

“How original,” Paige teases but she clinks her glass against Azzi’s anyways, “here’s to us.”

“Here’s to us,” Azzi repeats as they both take sips of soda. 

They melt into a comfortable silence, relishing in this rare moment where there isn’t a screen separating them from each other. Facetimes is a wonderful creation but a blurry screen, Azzi decides, doesn’t nearly do justice to just how damn pretty Paige is. Her hair is golden as it basks in the glow of the moon and Azzi wonders if the stars are jealous of how brilliantly the blonde’s blue eyes twinkle.

It’s Paige who speaks first, her voice hesitant, “you uh- you never asked me how my date went a couple of weeks ago.”

Azzi feels her whole body go rigid. She’d almost forgotten about Paige’s wretched date. The blonde had told her about it a couple of days before the actual event and Azzi had played the dutiful role of a best friend, teasing Paige with a light-heartedness she didn’t feel and congratulating her with an excitement that came from anywhere but from the heart. She’d purposely avoided Paige’s calls the day of the date and then two days after, coming up with some sorry excuse she no longer remembers. On the third day, when the hollow ache of i miss her voice in her chest had become too hard to ignore, Azzi had finally picked up the phone and diverted the conversation straight to a different topic. She hadn’t thought of the date since. 

“Guess it slipped my mind,” she says airily, fingers gripping the edge of the picnic blanket. 

“I could tell you about it now,” Paige says slowly. 

I’d rather you didn’t, Azzi thinks but that’s a thought that veers a little too out of the sphere of best-friend-isms and so she simply nods her head, “y-yeah tell me about it. How was it?”

“It was nice,” Paige begins and there’s something hidden in her tone that Azzi can't quite place but she’s a little too busy sulking at the idea of Paige with anybody else to try and decipher it, “dinner was good. Took her to a movie after. That was good too.”

“That’s cool P. I’m glad- I’m glad you had fun,” Azzi says nonchalantly, gripping the glass in her hands just a little too tight. 

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t really have that much fun,” Paige clarifies and Azzi gawks at her in confusion as the older girl fidgets with the frayed edges of the picnic blankets, “just didn’t- didn’t feel right. Don’t think she had much fun either. She never texted me after.”

“What a bitch,” Azzi bites out, suddenly irrationally angry at a girl she’d never met because how could anyone possibly not have fun with Paige, “I’m sorry P. You deserve-”

“I didn’t care that she didn’t text back-”

“Still. It’s just the decent thing to do,” Azzi rants. 

“Maybe,” Paige shrugs, “but I didn’t have time to care about that. I had other things on my mind. Like the fact that you weren’t talking to me.”

Azzi flinches at the accusation, rushing out her previous defense, “I was busy.”

“Bullshit,” Paige sneers. 

“Paige-”

“But I get it,” the older girl says softly as she reaches for Azzi’s hand, tugging the brunette closer to her and Azzi feels something inside her erupt at how close their faces are, “I probably wouldn’t have talked to you for two days either if you went on a date with someone else.”

“Oh,” Azzi breathes out and there’s probably something more eloquent she should say but there’s this realization of maybe you feel it too that’s beginning to creep up her spine, rendering her speechless as Paige continues to stare at her like she’s mapping out all the tiniest details of Azzi’s face. 

“The whole date, I kept thinking how you wouldn’t order what she ordered off the menu or that you would probably hit my hand if I tried to steal something off your plate but then give it to me anyway. And that the movie would never have been so quiet with you and we’d probably get yelled at for giggling too much and I-” Paige pauses, dragging in a deep breath, “I definitely would’ve kissed you at the end.”

A sigh of relief escapes Azzi’s lips, “you didn’t kiss her.”

“No,” Paige confirms as she drops her forehead against Azzi’s, “but I-,” the blonde gulps nervously and Azzi can’t help the way her hand reaches up to caress the blush forming on Paige’s cheeks. 

“Ask me,” she whispers.

“I really want to kiss you,” Paige confesses, voice shaking slightly, “can I kiss you?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, choosing to reply instead by pressing her lips softly against Paige’s. They move slowly at first, testing each other’s boundaries and savoring their first taste of each other. Azzi pulls the older girl onto her lap, hands firmly on Paige’s hips as the other girl clasps her own hands around Azzi’s neck.  It’s a little messy and uncoordinated and Azzi thinks they might need to practice a little more to really get it right but still, it’s everything.

And Azzi just knows

She knows it then just the way she knew Tim was meant to be her dad. The way she knew Jon and José were meant to be her brothers. The way she knew she was meant to play basketball. Azzi knows that she’s meant to fall hopelessly in love with Paige Bueckers. 

March 2033

There are three things Azzi should do. 

Push Paige away 

Tell her this a bad idea 

Run the fuck away

She does none of the above.

Instead Azzi kisses Paige back. 

And it’s still everything. Like the sun and moon are colliding and creating something so insanely powerful; something that feels so eternal. 

There’s nothing soft or slow about it as Paige presses every inch of herself into Azzi until she can feel Paige’s heartbeat as strongly as she can feel her own. It might be impossible but she swears their hearts are talking to each other, tapping out rhythms against each other’s chests that confess all the things their owners are too scared to say. And Azzi wants nothing more than to lose herself completely in the moment because Paige’s lips feel like a drug and Azzi thinks she might just be an addict in relapse. 

Except to relapse, you need to have recovered. And Azzi doesn’t think she ever fully recovered from Paige. 

It isn’t until she feels her back hit the edge of a desk and the sound of something crashing onto the floor infiltrates her ears, that Azzi finally comes to her senses. She tears her lips away from Paige as the older woman groans in protest, arms tightening their hold on Azzi’s waist so she can still have some semblance of control over the situation. And really Azzi knows she’s strong enough to escape Paige’s grip, could easily fight it if she wanted to. But well, she doesn’t want to. And Azzi’s tired of doing things she doesn’t want to do. 

“Paige-”

“If the next words out of your mouth are ‘we can’t do this’, Azzi I swear to god I’m going to kill you,” Paige threatens, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s. 

Azzi laughs softly and she can feel Paige’s whole body relax at the sound of it and like clockwork, she feels the tension beginning to release from her own muscles, “if you kill me then we definitely can’t do this.”

“I’ll revive you after or something,” Paige says with a half-smirk. 

“Or something,” Azzi rolls her eyes, “but we can’t-”

“Azzi,” Paige groans. 

“We can’t do this right now and definitely not here,” Azzi amends, alluding to the fact that they’re still in Steph’s office. 

Paige raises an eyebrow, cocking her head slightly, “but we can do this later? Somewhere else?”

The question lingers between them as Azzi bites her lip. She knows what this is, knows that it’s Paige putting the ball in her court. A ‘no’ would likely be the end of things and that scares her more than she’s willing to admit but she’s not quite ready to commit to a ‘yes’ yet, even if that flame of desire inside of her, the one that can only be lit by Paige, is blazing hot through her veins. 

“I don’t know,” Azzi says carefully, shivering at the way Paige’s thumb is rubbing circles against her waist, the flimsy material of her shirt doing nothing to prevent the goosebumps forming on her skin, “TBD.”

“That’s not a no,” Paige says carefully, hope blossoming freely on her face. 

“That’s not a yes either,” Azzi warns half-heartedly. 

“But it’s not a no,” Paige presses. 

“No,” Azzi admits, playing with the neckline of Paige’s shirt, “it’s not a no.”

And Azzi’s so scared of the future, scared that if she lets herself burn, she’ll incinerate everyone around her but there’s something in the way Paige smiles at her words. Something that feels a lot like a promise of i’ll be the rain that washes out the fire before you can turn us to ashes. 

“I can work with that,” Paige says softly, tilting Azzi’s chin up. 

“So desperate to get back into my pants Bueckers,” Azzi teases and she expects a witty remark in return but instead she’s met with nothing but sincerity. 

“So desperate to get back into your life,” Paige whispers, voice cracking on the last two words. 

Tears prickle against Azzi’s waterline as she stares in awe at the girl in front of her. Sometimes she thinks Paige doesn’t even know that there’s a halo of goodness sitting above her head, doesn't even know just how beautiful her soul is. Paige is stunning on the outside; it’s something no one can deny. But it’s nothing compared to how gorgeous she is on the inside, nothing compared to how kind, how humble, how forgiving Paige is. 

“Why?” Azzi asks, her tone rife with heaviness. 

“Why what?” 

“After everything, after all this time, why would you still want to be in my life?” the tears fall harder as Azzi struggles to breathe, “I- I broke your heart. I broke us. How could you possibly want that again. How could you possibly want me again?”

Paige's eyes soften as she cups Azzi’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away at the drops of water running down them, “because you’re Azzi. My Azzi. And I get it- I get that you’re not ready to be all in on this with me yet and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not completely ready either. But we can work on it right? Take it slow and see where it goes and maybe we’ll- maybe we’ll be even better this time.”

“You think so?”

“I believe so.”

Azzi presses her lips delicately against Paige’s, reveling in the way it makes Paige’s breath hitch. She pulls away faster than she would like herself and Paige chases her lips, eyes still closed. 

“What was that for,” the blonde asks, slightly dazed. 

“For being my Paige.”

***

Azzi taps her foot impatiently against her wooden patio as she glances at her phone clock for the umpteenth time. Paige is almost twenty minutes late to pick her and Stephie up to go to dinner at her parent’s house. The invites had technically been separate but Paige had insisted that they needed to go together because Paige didn’t want to walk into the house alone. Azzi’s not sure why Paige is nervous to see her dad and brothers again, not when she’s pretty sure they’re bursting with excitement to see the blonde whose pictures still have a permanent place on the family photo wall, but if Paige wants Azzi by her side, well she’s not going to say no. Not anymore. 

 It’s been a week since they’d agreed to take things slow and Azzi’s still not quite sure what exactly that means, but she thinks she likes it. She likes being able to call Paige and not having to come up with a lame excuse for why. She likes that she and Paige can take Stephie out for ice cream after Curry Camp and they don’t have to pretend they’re only tolerating each other’s presence for the little girl’s sake. She likes that they can brush their pinkies while walking and instead of jolting away, they simply just link them together. There’s boundaries of course. No sleepovers at either of their houses. No doing anything more than kissing. No kissing in front of anyone else and definitely no kissing in front of Stephie. No doing anything in front of Stephie really. And there’s still so much mountain left to climb but as long as they’re pushing up it together, Azzi doesn’t think there’s any incline steep enough to stop her from continuing up this path.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals as Paige’s car rounds the corner into Azzi’s driveway. 

Paige steps out of the car, arms wide open and ready to catch Stephie as the little girl goes tumbling down the front porch, aiming straight for the blonde. Azzi’s not an artist by any means but if she was, she thinks she could paint a thousand pictures of Stephie and her Miss Buecks. It terrifies Azzi a little bit, just how perfectly Stephie fits into Paige’s side but it calms her too because there’s a part of her that’s in love with how much they love each other.

“You’re late Bueckers,” Azzi chides as she follows her daughter’s path down the patio stairs. 

Paige grins, shifting Stephie on her lap as she opens the side door to her car to pull out two bouquets of flowers

“Will these make up for it?” she asks slyly as she hands the larger one, an assortment of pink flowers, to Azzi and a slightly smaller bouquet of purple hydrangeas to Stephie. 

“These are so pretty Miss Buecks,” Stephie gushes before pressing a kiss to Paige’s cheek left cheek and Paige beams at the compliment, “thank you Miss Buecks.”

“You took that long to get flowers?” Azzi asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, “you’re supposed to thank someone when they give you a gift.”

“Yeah Azzi,” Paige’s eyes glimmer with mirth, “thank me like Stephie thanked me. Don’t you think Mama owes me a kiss on the cheek Steph?”

Azzi narrows her eyes at the scheming pair in front of her as Stephie nods animatedly at Paige’s question, “yeah Mama you owe Miss Buecks a kiss on the cheek.”

Shaking her head, Azzi walks over to Paige taking deliberately steady steps. Slowly Azzi leans in, puckering her lips. Paige closes her eyes and Azzi winks at Stephie who’s eyes widen. 

“I’m waiting,” Paige sing-songs, a self-satisfied smirk taking over her features. 

And instead of the promised kiss, Azzi licks a sloppy strip down Paige’s cheek and the blonde shrieks as both Azzi and Stephie burst into laughter.

“EW AZZI GROSS,” Paige whines, hurriedly rubbing her shirt against her cheek, “is this what you’re teaching your daughter?”

“I’m teaching my daughter not to let anyone manipulate her,” Azzi says, giving Paige a careful look, “now why were you late?”

Paige grins sheepishly as she opens the door to the backseat of the door. A lavender car seat is placed on the left side of the car and Azzi feels her heart lurch with no one’s ever cared like this. 

“It’s pu-ple,” Stephie claps excitedly, “is it for me?”

“Of course it is,” Paige confirms, booping Stephie’s nose before looking at Azzi, “it’s just- we uh- we always have to take your car cause it has the car seat and moving it between cars is such a hassle. So I just thought- you know- I just thought it’d be cool- useful- practical- if I had one too? And this way if you ever need me to take Stephie off you then I uh- then you don’t have to worry about me driving. I don’t- I don’t really knows much about car seats but I looked it up online before and the person at the store agreed that this is definitely the best one- like I swear it’s safe-”

She’s cut off by the feel of Azzi’s lips pressed to her cheeks. 

“Thank you Paige.”

***

Just as Azzi expected, Paige merges herself back into the Fudd family with the same ease she’d first had when she’d carved out a place for herself almost a decade and a half ago. It’s a little emotional at first when Tim opens the door, a smile almost as big as him decorating his face as he pulls Paige into a hug even before she can say a word. 

“Welcome home kid,” he whispers into her blonde hair and Azzi doesn’t have to see Paige’s face to know that her best friend is blinking away tears. 

Guilt surges in Azzi’s stomach and she tries to swallow away the lump of i took this from her that’s blocking her throat. It had been so simple at 15 to give Paige a part of her world; Azzi hadn’t thought twice about it. And then with the snap of her fingers, she’d taken that world away. She knows her parents had never cut Paige out; hell they’d been at her wedding to some other woman -and Azzi had pushed them to go knowing Paige would need it- but it was a far cry from what they’d been. A far cry from when Paige’s schedule was a key factor while planning Fudd family summers. 

“Hey,” Stephie pouts, tiny hands crossed over her small body “I thought you always gave me the first hug Pops.”

“We’ll make an exception today,” Tim says with a wink before letting Paige walk into Katie’s arms and spinning his granddaughter around, “but you’re always gonna be my favorite.”

“I better be,” Stephie threatens and the adults around her laugh. 

And finally it’s Azzi's turn to be pulled into one of her dad’s patent bear hugs. She goes willingly, always at her most warmest in the arms of the man whose blood might not run through her veins, but whose love had always protected her from the cruelties of the world. 

“You look really happy today sweetheart,” Tim says softly. 

Azzi’s eyes flitter over her father’s shoulder to where Jon and José are embroiling Paige in a group hug with Stephie in the middle of it, screaming about finally having their “white sister” back, as Katie and José’s fiancé Tallulah roll their eyes at the group of them, and she can’t help but smile into her dad’s shirt, “I feel pretty happy today.”

*** 

“You cheated,” Jon yells. 

“Miss Buecks does not cheat,” Stephie yells back loyally. 

“Don’t get into this Stephie. You don’t know her like we do,” José glares at Paige who narrows her eyes at him, “she’s been stealing from the bank.”

“Miss Buecks does not  steal,” Stephie defends again, wrapping her arms around Paige’s neck from behind as the blonde presses a quick kiss against Stephie’s temple. 

“It’s okay Stephie,” Paige reassures, gently swinging the little girl into her lap, “some people are just sore losers.”

“Can’t be a sore loser because I didn’t lose-” José coughs and Jon corrects himself immediately, “because we didn’t lose.”

“Y’all let it go,” Tallulah groans, leaning her head back against the sofa, “it’s literally just monopoly. Please, I'm so tired.”

“Just monopoly? JUST MONOPOLY?” José guffaws dramatically, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who doesn’t understand that it isn’t just monopoly Tallulah. It’s about liars and cheats and honor-”

“Miss Buecks has plenty of honor,” Stephie says stubbornly, leaning her head back against Paige’s chest.

Jon rounds on Azzi, who’s been silently watching the situation, “did you help her cheat?”

“Excuse me?” Azzi asks, glaring at her brother from where she’s been comfortable reclining on the sofa. She’d opted to be the banker instead of playing, content just handing out money to the rest of them while watching the game unfold. But really she hadn’t been paying much attention to anyone else but her daughter and Paige. Stephie didn’t quite understand the rules yet and so she was always on someone’s team. It had been a given tonight, that of course she would be with Paige. And Azzi had watched, trying not to be too obvious, with a foolish grin on her face, as her two favorite people whispered to each other, Paige listening intently to all of Stephie’s ideas whether they were good or bad. 

“Oh good point,” José turns to look at Azzi too, “you’re the banker, did you help Paige cheat?”

“Mama would never cheat,” Stephie argues defiantly as Azzi pushes herself up from the sofa to send a menacing look to both of her brothers. 

“I’m not going to dignify that accusation with a justification,” Azzi says, standing so she’s towering over her two brothers who are still sitting on the floor, “now clean up the game. It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime.”

 They might be well into their twenties and José might be taller than her now, but they’re still not quite  immune to Azzi’s wrath. Tallulah and Paige snicker as the two men, sulking at each other, obey their older sister's command without another word. 

“You’ve gotta teach me how you do that,” Tallulah says, hi-fiving Azzi who smirks in response. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, “what does dig-ni-fy mean?”

“Mean she’s not gonna entertain your uncles being dumba-”

“Paige!”

“Being dumbapples,” Paige corrects and both Azzi and Stephie give her an odd look at her ridiculous attempt at saving the bad word from leaving her lips. 

“Alright Stephie-bean,” Azzi says, pulling her daughter off of Paige’s lap, “it’s late enough. Off to brush your teeth you go.”

Stephie looks hesitantly between the staircase leading up to the guest bedroom -where she and Azzi normally stayed- and Paige. 

“Can Miss Buecks stay with us tonight?” she asks softly, one hand bunching in Paige’s shirt as she stares up at her mother with large doe eyes, “please Mama.”

“Stephie I don’t think-” Paige begins, ready to stick to the boundaries they’d laid out for themselves and really Azzi should let her; should follow her lead really.  

Except the words are tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them, “yeah she can- she can stay.”

“YAYY,” Stephie squeals, jumping into Azzi’s arms as Paige stares up at her in surprise, “thank you, thank you, thank you Mama. I’m so happy,” she swings from Azzi to Tallulah, “aunty Tully did you hear? Miss Buecks is gonna stay with us and you can make her your famous pancakes in the morning.”

“I can, can I?” Tallulah asks with a raised eyebrow as she lets Stephie and her excited chatter lead her towards the bathroom. With Jon and José both having already started towards their own rooms and Azzi’s parents fast asleep, it leaves just Paige and Azzi in the living room. 

“You’re okay with me staying?” Paige asks softly, finally lifting herself from the floor and onto her feet. 

Azzi scratches the back of her neck, “if- if you want to. You don’t have to. I can- I’ll explain to Stephie-”

“I want to,” Paige says, taking a cautious step towards Azzi, “but the rules?”

“This doesn’t count,” Azzi justifies and Paige smirks, taking another step towards the brunette. 

“It doesn’t?”

“We said no sleeping over at each other’s places. This is my parent’s house. So technically it doesn’t count,” Azzi shrugs, trying to keep her face from breaking into a grin as Paige moves one more step closer. 

“And where exactly am I sleeping?” Paige asks with a knowing grin as she loops an arm around Azzi’s waist, briefly checking to make sure no one’s around. 

Azzi tilts her head, letting the grin break through, “I think Stephie would like it if you slept with us.”

“Ah well if that’s what Stephie would like,” Paige says, nodding commiseratingly. 

“For Stephie’s sake,” Azzi repeats as she wraps her arm around Paige’s neck, pressing her forehead against the older girl’s and letting herself just breathe in the peace that comes with being all consumed by Paige. 

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is laced with uncharacteristic vulnerability as she speaks again, “you won’t- you won’t run away again tomorrow morning will you?”

“No,” Azzi promises, gently brushing her lips against Paige’s, “I won’t run away again.”

[shroomdreams]

Fish Out Of Water

Jiyan x F!Mermaid!Reader

NSFW

CW: Strangers-to-Lovers, porn with plot, monster reader, light angst in the middle, first time, lots of foreplay, unprotected sex, p in v, cumming inside. A/N: I didn’t mean for it to get this long. I’m so sorry yall, I hope you guys enjoy! 6.5k words

Miles off the coast of a settlement in Tiderise Cliff, underneath the waves, a strange being gazes upwards and dreams of the breaching the unknown. You are a creature of the waters, some may call a siren. However, you don’t have aspirations of drowning sailors or anything remotely similar. Simply put, you want to learn more of the strange world above the waters you call home. The one thing that stops is that you don’t exactly look like the “humans” that populate the world. Few times your head pokes out of the water, they’ve mistaken you for something called a “Tacet Discord.”

Still, it didn’t deter you from observing them, watching how their bodies moved. You gained a better understanding of the human form after a year or two of observing them. Despite this, your plans to explore the land was interrupted by the chaos ravaging the area. You hid in the water, hoping for things to calm down.

When they did, you heard that there will be a festival celebrating the defeat of an enormous Tacet Discord. This was your chance! Even if you couldn’t stay for too long, this was your moment to take in the human culture and be among them. However, your first steps were rather shaky… Both literally and figuratively. For one thing, it was a massive learning curve trying to balance on legs, and you fell face first into the sand. Still, you had to press on, holding yourself onto a rock for stability.

“Excuse me, ma’am!” A voice sounds from afar. Looking up, you see a group of humans wearing the same outfits marching towards you. A few of them are looking away as they approach, while the leader of the squad walks up to you. “Are you alright? You took a fall over there…” He says, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Uhm… I’m okay, thank you.” The nervous look on their faces make you apprehensive. The leader scratches the back of his head, clearing his throat.

“That’s good. Have you been attacked in some way?”

“Er, no… I don’t think so.”

The humans seem to look at each other with a certain look, one you can’t really parse. The leader steels his gaze and straightens his back. “I see… Well, you should come with us. It’s dangerous out here. While we have dealt with the threnodian threat, we can’t be too sure…”

So you find yourself with a cloak wrapped around your shoulders, shielding your body from the sunlight as you walk among the humans. You learn that they were dispatched to patrol the perimeter around the settlement to make sure there’s minimal Tacet Discord interference. When you reach the settlement, the leader tasks for some of the humans to go back to patrolling while he and a few others make sure you’re okay.

“We’ll just conduct a quick medical examination, miss.” The woman in the white robe explains. You find yourself inside a tent with all sorts of important looking devices inside, sitting on an elevated surface. “Please tell me if there’s any sort of discomfort.” The woman presses a few instruments to certain parts of your body, sticking a tube in your mouth and taking it out after a certain point. She scribbles something on her clipboard.

“Your vitals are normal, and there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong.” The woman says. “However, there are still a few things I’d like to confirm. Would you mind waiting here for a moment?” After you nod, she walks outside.

“How is she?” A man in teal attire would ask. The woman bites her lip, looking at her notes.

“Results show me that she’s a normal human, but I noticed a few aberrations on her legs. They look like fish scales… and I spotted a tacet mark on the back of her neck. As for any injuries, there’s also a scar on her shoulder. I suspect that it was caused by a bullet.”

“So we have an unidentified resonator who seemingly washed up on the beach…” He rests his chin on his hand, eyebrows scrunched together. “This is troubling. Maybe the result of an exile attack?”

“Considering the patrollers found her without any clothes…”

The silence hangs for a brief moment.

“She didn’t mention any hostility, but we can’t be sure if she blocked out the memory or if she’s actively avoiding the subject. Either way, General, I suggest we handle this delicately.”

“Very well. Have someone bring her clothes. I’ll go talk with her, see if we can make a breakthrough.”

Back inside, you perk up when the tent flaps open, revealing a man with dark teal hair and golden eyes. You note the scales on his face as he takes a stool and sits down, making you look down at him. He smiles at you.

“Hello. How are you feeling, miss?”

You can’t help but smile back, leaning in a bit. “I’m feeling fine, thank you.” You pause. “Uhm, that woman from earlier… Is she coming back?”

“Ah, Dong Mei will return shortly. I’d like to introduce myself. I am Jiyan of the Midnight Rangers.”

Midnight Rangers… That must be the group who found you. From his attire, you get the feeling Jiyan must be someone important to them. The presence of someone like Jiyan suddenly fills you with unease, your eyebrows knitted together with worry as you shuffle awkwardly. Noticing your tension, Jiyan holds his hands up.

“Please, there’s no need to be worried. I merely want to know how you’re currently feeling, that’s all.”

“Well… I feel fine.” You answer honestly. “It’s a bit strange to have this many people care about me. I uhm, I would have thought strangers would be treated differently.”

Jiyan frowns at your reply. “Forgive me, but it’s troubling to hear you say such a thing. What makes you think we’ll just show you door?”

“Uh…”

The words struggle to form a coherent sentence in your mind, staring at Jiyan as you try and supply him with an answer. Nothing happens, leaving you in silence, your hands resting on your lap.

…You decide to change the subject.

“This settlement… They’re celebrating a festival soon, aren’t they?” You ask.

“Yes. Were you planning on attending?”

“Mhmm.” You nod. “It’s actually my first time here. I don’t really know of the customs or any of the rules.” You don’t mention the brief flash of sadness in Jiyan’s eyes as you speak. “I want to spend some time here, if only for a little while. I’ll be gone by the time the festival concludes.”

“Do you have a place to stay for a while? The festival wouldn’t be ready in two days.” Jiyan asks. When you shake you head, he closes his eyes in thought. “…If it doesn’t discomfort you, you can stay with us here until the festival. Will that be alright?”

“Really? But wouldn’t I be a burden to you?”

It’s Jiyan’s turn to shake his head. “Not at all. We have more than enough resources to accommodate one civilian. Now come along, we should get you cleaned up.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

That’s the end of that conversation, apparently, as Jiyan leads you outside. Throwing your cloak on, you follow Jiyan towards a wooden house. “You can take showers here, if needed.” Jiyan explains.

”Dong Mei will come here with your clothes.”

You walk inside the house. Leaving your cloak on a cubby, you walk further inside and find yourself in a room filled with tiny bodies of water, with a few people already inside. You timidly make your way over a pool, surrounding yourself in the water. The warm temperature of bath is way different than the cold sea you grew up in, but it’s pleasant. You scrub away the grains of sand from your face and allow yourself to be cleansed by the water.

After a moment of soaking in the water, you remove yourself from the bath and dry yourself off with a towel. “Hello, miss!” Ah, that must be Dong Mei. You poke your head out and see the doctor from before holding a bundle of clothes. “A helpful couple gave us these clothes, said it’s a hand-me-down from their daughters.”

Indeed, you’re now wearing a modest dress that makes you blend in with the crowd. You giggle, twirling around to make the skirt flare up a bit. After a bit of thinking, you decide to keep the cloak on you. Jiyan smiles when he sees you walk out the bath house with Dong Mei in tow.

“Did you enjoy the bath house?”

“I did. I haven’t had a bath like that ever!” You giggle, clapping your hands. Jiyan laughs along side you. “Uhm, now that I’m clean, may I go down and see the preparations? I know you said the festival wouldn’t be ready for a while, I just don’t want to be idle.”

“It’s no problem. Would you want me to accompany you?”

Dong Mei’s eyes widen, darting towards to Jiyan then to you. A mischievous smile grows on her face as Jiyan blinks, processing the words that escaped from his mouth. “Oh look at that! Haoran and the others came back. I’ll just leave you in the General’s capable hands.” She quickly makes a strategic exit, leaving you alone with Jiyan.

“...Ahem. Well, shall we?”

“We shall.”

The hustle and bustle of the settlement makes for an energetic environment. You ooh and ahh even at the slightest things. Jiyan smiles as he watches your reactions, chuckling as you point out items and decorations.

“Oh! Jiyan, what’s this flower called?” You pick up a pink flower with five petals, inhaling its scent. “I’ve never smelled something so sweet before… Can I eat it?”

“I’d advise you to not do so.” Jiyan replies. “This is a Pecok flower. Usually, the artisans would use it to make seals for important documents. It’s a pretty one.” He looks you in the eye as he speaks, gently taking the flower from you. He brushes the hair from your face, setting the plant in your hair. A slight blush graces your cheeks at the gesture, eyeing the flower from the corner of your vision.

You spend the rest of the day strolling around, pointing out some oddities and asking Jiyan for his opinion. As the sun sets, you realize that you have no idea where exactly to go. Despite the general saying that you could stay in camp, you aren’t entirely sure where exactly you’re supposed to stay at.

“Jiyan,” You look up at him with a small frown. “Where am I going to sleep?”

Jiyan is silent for a moment. “If it it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, then perhaps you could stay with me?”

Your eyes light up, beaming at Jiyan. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you Jiyan!”

Settling in for the night, you change behind a screen and into your night clothes, which is just Jiyan’s shirt. You place the Pecok Flower somewhere safe, kissing one of the petals before going back to your cot. It was actually Jiyan’s first, but he insisted you take it while he takes the sleeping bag. Yawning, you roll over and flash a smile to him.

“Goodnight Jiyan.”

“Goodnight.”

Laying on your back, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep…

In the wee hours of the morning, Jiyan wakes up first. He stifles a yawn, sitting up and stretching his neck. The sun hadn’t even breached the horizon, the firmament cradling the stars in its embrace. He turns to look at your sleeping figure. Your head is titled to the side, drool running from your mouth and staining his pillow. He takes in how your chest rises and falls, the fabric of his shirt riding up to reveal some of your more intimate parts.

The way the neckline droops downward, nearly exposing one of your breasts, while the hem of his shirt just barely covers your rear… Jiyan gulps, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He lays back down. A tangled mess of feelings creates a tapestry of emotions, hung up by his conscience.

You were a resonator who came from out of the blue, with an unknown past and naked as the day you were born. Would he be like the people who had done you harm, Jiyan wonders as he palms himself, shame creeping in his mind. He freezes when you yawn, turning his head to see you smack your lips and adjust your position, facing away from him.

…He decides to take an early bath.

When you wake up, Jiyan is nowhere to be found. Taking a spare robe and your daily clothes, walking to the bathhouse under the slowly rising skies. As you shuck off Jiyan’s shirt, you pause when you hear groaning from somewhere in the bathhouse. When you peek through the door way, your hands fly up to cover your mouth when you see Jiyan doing… something. Urged by your instincts, you quickly turn away as he lets out a loud groan, panting at the end.

“U-Uhm… Is anyone in here?”

He jolts in surprise, hearing your voice. “I-It’s me.” He replies, quickly throwing a towel over his lower half as you walk inside the space.  You look elsewhere as you make your way to the pool, setting down your towel before you slip in.

“Good morning, general.” You timidly greet, looking up at him as you sink into the water. Jiyan mumbles out his own greeting, unwilling to meet your gaze. The two of you sit in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds outside. Jiyan can’t help but sneak glances towards you.

“...Jiyan, are you okay? Your face is all flushed.”

“Ah- No need to worry about me. I just… Had to take care of something earlier.”

“I see…”

Ever bashful, you sink further down while only your head pokes out of the water. “If you want, you can uhm, join… me…” Your words trail off, too embarrassed to say the rest. Still, you perk up when Jiyan decides to indulge you, the water rippling as he sits down.  Though you aren’t exactly sure of the  proper bath etiquette, you decide to move closer to Jiyan. The general says nothing, though he rests a hand on your shoulder.

“...This scar. How did you get it?”

“Oh, that.” You look to your shoulder, tracing a finger over your scar. “Well… It’s a bit of a funny situation. I remember swimming in the waters, diving down to the sea floor to collect shells. When I went up to the surface, I heard someone yell,” You cleared your throat, putting your best impression of the person you heard. “’Tacet Discord! Quick, shoot at it!’”

The color drains from Jiyan’s face as you continued on with your tale.

“So I tried to get away, and they started shooting… Bullets, I think they were called? A lot of them missed me, but they managed to hit my shoulder. And well, here we are.” You giggled.

Jiyan doesn’t share your amusement, instead pulling you in close. “Why do you laugh at your pain?” He asked, searching your eyes for answers. He finds confusion instead. “The fact someone harmed you because they thought you were a TD… What if you were killed?”

You smiled sadly. “I don’t think anyone would miss me, Jiyan. I don’t have family waiting for me, and what little friends I had leave me in the end.”

“Still… I wish you didn’t have to go through that.” He says, rubbing your cheek. Leaning in to his touch, his breath tickles your lips, the close proximity unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

…However, the moment ended when you hear the murmuring of people approaching the area. You and Jiyan wrap up in the bathhouse, putting on your clothes and walking out, pinkies laced together.

Decorations slowly pop up in the area, banners and streamers being hung as vendors put up their stalls. You and Jiyan are the topic of hushed whispers and gossips as you strolled through the area. Though the festival starts tomorrow, a few vendors who managed to complete their stall began offering trinkets to you. Since you had no shell credits to your name, you manage to completely ignore most of them… Up until a certain stall.

“You there missy!” A woman would wave you over. She grins when you approach, pulling out a box. Flicking the lock open, she reveals an assortment of necklaces and collars. “That dress is real pretty on you… But you know what would make you prettier? Some jewelry, only for a few hundred shell credits.”

…You will admit, these necklaces are really pretty… But then again, you have no credits to you name. Still, it’d be nice to have one of these. As you’re about to decline the woman’s offer, you pause when you take note of a collar. The collar had a wavy pattern stylized in loopy shapes, with little beige rhinestones acting as sand at the bottom. The teal seashell hanging from the collar completes the look. The woman grins, taking the collar and placing it in your hands.

“Good eye, madame. This little beauty takes inspiration from the bay that surrounds us. Just for you, this collar is only worth two thousand shells!”

Two thousand shells… That’s still a lot. But as you were about to hand the collar back, Jiyan stops you by placing down a pouch of credits, pushing to towards the woman. She accepts it with glee while you stare up at Jiyan in shock. “Jiyan-”

“Don’t be so worried.” He smiles, taking the collar from you. “It really does suit you. Here…” He turns you around, eyes flicking towards your tacet mark. Carefully wrapping the band around your neck, his fingers graze over the mark, making you shiver. “How is it? Not too tight, I hope.”

“No, it’s perfect.” You smile, looking down at the shell collar. “Thank you, Jiyan… I’ll have to look for a matching shell.”

Again, you continue the routine of strolling through the settlement before retiring back to Jiyan’s tent. You’re back to wearing one of his shirts, and you sleep the night away...

Tomorrow, you’ll surely have the time of your life with the man who has been so nice to you. You’re sure of it!

When you wake up, a wave of mischief overtakes you, surged on by the excitement of the festival. Carefully climbing out of bed, you crawl over to where Jiyan is and hover over him with a smug smile. A dainty finger makes contact with his cheek. “Ji-yaaaan. Ji-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.” Poke poke poke- You pout, thinking your attempts of rousing him from slumber is a bust. Suddenly, you feel muscular arms wrap about your midsection and pull you down, tumbling until you end up pinned underneath your target.

“Getting rather antsy, aren’t we?”

“Good morning, Jiyan!” You chirp, smiling up at him. Jiyan’s gaze softens, before he gains mischievous glint in his eyes. You let out a squeal when Jiyan begins nibbling your cheeks, laughing uncontrollably as you feebly hit his shoulders. “Hahaha! Jiyan noooo! Stoooop! Hahahahaha!” This earns you a playful growl from the general, who starts prodding at your sides, sending you into a fit of giggles.

Jiyan eventually relents when you push him off, nibbling on his cheek as payback. The two of you get ready for the day, Jiyan preparing to leave in order to take care of some business. “I promise I’ll come back before the festival begins,” He says, adjusting your collar. Golden eyes paired with a small smile gives you reassurance of his oath. The general rubs your cheek before he sets off to secure the area. As you think about what to do for the rest of the day, you’re called outside by a familiar voice.

“Ah, Miss Dong Mei!” You greet, bowing slightly. “What do you need me for?”

“Well, since the festival starts later on, I figured I’d give you a whole makeover for when Jiyan comes back.” Dong Mei grins, taking your hand and leading you somewhere else. “It took us some time and we had to rush, but the girls and I got everything we need to turn you into the prettiest lady in Jinzhou.”

“But Miss Dong Mei-”

“No buts!”

So you’re dragged into a tent full of women whose smiles fill you with a sense of dread. However, you calm down when they gently preen and argue about what shade of eyeshadow is perfect for your skin. Eventually, Dong Mei proudly presents you in front of a mirror they borrowed for this occasion. The women pat themselves on the back as Dong Mei places the Pecok flower in your hair. Finally, you’re clothed in a short-sleeved dress that hugs your figure, accentuating your curves.

“What do you think?”

“Is this really what I look like? I look like a whole other person… Will Jiyan even recognize me?”

“Don’t be silly, of course he will. Oh! Here he comes.” Dong Mei saunters out the tent. Her conversation with the general is a bit muffled, your apprehension growing with each unintelligible syllable. It isn’t until Dong Mei calls for you did you snap out of your train of thought. With a small sigh, you shyly part the tent flaps, glancing at Jiyan’s reaction.

Pink dusts his cheeks, his eyes wide and twinkling with surprise, mouth parted open. Words seem non-existent as you timidly make your way in front of him, looking into his golden eyes. “Miss Dong Mei and the others gave me a makeover… Do you uhm… Like it?” It seemed like such a silly question to ask when Jiyan’s eyes scan your figure, and you take note that your legs seem to be exposed by the slit running up the side. Dong Mei elbows Jiyan, causing him to cough and straighten his posture.

“You look beautiful. Perfect for an outing at the festival.” He smiles, and you return the expression. Dong Mei giggles and waves you off as you link arms with Jiyan, walking towards the big event you’ve been waiting for.

At night, colorful streamers and lanterns decorate the starry sky as you and Jiyan strolled through area. Who would have thought you’d find such a wonderful friend when you ventured to the surface? Sure, you had an awkward start, but the elation you feel right now as you toss a lightweight ball into one of the bowls, earning you a pretty, albeit fake fish. Jiyan chuckles at you inspect the fish, turning it around in your hand. The stall owner generously gives you a bag to hold any trinkets you win, and you drag Jiyan to play more games.

Your bag of trinkets fills up, as does your joy. Currently, Jiyan had you sit down at a table while he went to get the two of you some food, leaving you to entertain yourself with the fake fish you earned earlier. It’s unlike any fish you’ve seen in the waters, but you wonder if such a creature could exist. The fake fish swims around in a tiny container, your eyes following its every moment.

“You seem occupied,” Jiyan says as he returns with a small carton box of fries, a few meat skewers, and two cups with pink liquid inside. “I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so I got us both strawberry. I hope you don’t mind.”

Shaking your head, you return the fake fish to your trinket bag as you indulge in the food. At some point, you take a fry and wave it in front of Jiyan’s face, clearly intending to feed him. Jiyan stares at you for a moment, before chuckling and biting the fry, giggles bubbling from your chest. Your eyes shine when you take a sip of the strawberry drink, making sure to savor every last drop.

“Whew… This festival is everything I thought it’d be.” You say, watching as lanterns float into the air. A sad smile graces your features as the water gently laps at your shoes. The two of you have decided to sit by the beach, where you could see the city of Jinzhou in the distance. Leaning into Jiyan’s shoulder, you look up at him. “Thank you for everything, Jiyan. I don’t think I would have had this much fun without you around.”

“...”

“...Jiyan? Are you okay?” The general had gradually stopped speaking over the course of your conversation, deep in thought. Just as you were about to poke his cheek, Jiyan gently grasps your hands as he looks deep into your eyes, his golden hues shining under the moonlight. “Jiyan?-”

Suddenly, Jiyan’s lips lock with yours, and you note the faint trace of strawberries staining his mouth. Jiyan leans in, one of his hands supporting your lower back as your hands fly up and grab onto his shoulders for extra support. You gasp when Jiyan pulls back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You gaze up at him with wide eyes and reddened cheeks, panting slightly as you processed just exactly what happened.

“Jiyan, wha-”

“I- Apologize for my rash actions… But I could not bare to keep it a secret for much longer…” He mutters. You could make out the faint blush in his cheeks as he holds your chin, giving your jaw light bunny kisses. “I cannot deny it anymore. I’ve fallen for you. You’re so sweet and genuine, I just couldn’t help these feelings sprouting inside me. So I have something to ask you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Time slows. Jiyan waits for your reaction.

What he doesn’t expect is for you push him off and for your dress to burst into energy particles, watching as your figure dives into the water. Jiyan can only stand up, watching as your tail waves at him before disappearing into the waters below. As he stands there, his mind scrambling to take in the situation, he notices your collar washing up beside him. The lonely shell glints under the moon’s pitiful light as Jiyan picks up your bag of trinkets.

The following day, Jiyan calls out your name at the beach, hoping he could at least draw you out. Dong Mei and the other rangers took some time off to help him in his search despite his protests. Jiyan clutches the collar in his hand as he scans the waters for any sign of you. “General Jiyan, we haven’t found anything.” Dong Mei says. She’s never seen the general so distraught before. “Perhaps we should send someone to look for her?”

“No,” Jiyan vehemently shakes his head. “She’s… She would just get scared off again. Thank you for your assistance, but this is something I have to tackle on my own.”

Without further instructions, Dong Mei salutes Jiyan and leaves with her fellow rangers. Jiyan lets out a deep sigh, staring into the water with a grim expression, his lips tightening into an uncomfortable line. Where could you have gone, he wonders as the sand crunches underneath his boots. His mind replays the scene from last night, his chest tightening when he takes in your shocked expression. Everything about you suddenly clicked that night. Your lack of clothing, the scales on your legs, and the bullet scar on your shoulder…

Still, Jiyan doesn’t give up. Day after day, he walks alongside the beach, hoping to see the distinct color of your tail in the waters. His soldiers mention how he always seem to smell of salt, and he finds himself losing his appetite whenever seafood is mentioned. However, his search is rewarded when he spots you near the shore, sitting on the sand. You dive back into the water, but before you could retreat to the depths, you hear him call your name.

You’re nearing the shallows, eyeing the shadow. You know exactly who that is. But could you really face him after what you did? He must be very upset at you. It’s so easy to just swim back into the deep and return to your simple life under the water. You could return to normalcy.

…But could you really do that? After the time you’ve spent up on the surface, you craved more. You want to eat yummy food, visit Jinzhou city, see all the pretty flowers you couldn’t see underwater. Most of all…

…You wanted Jiyan.

You breach the surface, staring up at the man who helped you navigate the world. Before you could speak, Jiyan breaks into a sprint and lifts you from the water, spinning you around and holding you close. You could feel his chest heaving. “…I missed you.” He whispers. Your heart breaks when you catch sight of his tear filled gaze.

“Jiyan… I’m sorry. It was all so sudden, a-and I…” You sniffle, feeling your own eyes welling up in tears. You curl into Jiyan’s hold, Jiyan adjusting his grip to hold you in a bridal carry, pressing his forehead to yours as you begin to cry. “I didn’t want to make you sad. I’m not human at all. Y-You deserve someone who isn’t… This.” Your hands clumsily wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. “You’re the g-general, while I’m just some nobody… You deserve someone better.”

“Shh shh shh… None of that. Love, I fell for you and you alone.” Jiyan murmurs, kissing your cheek. “I’m hurt that you ran away, but I understand why. You… You must have been terribly lonely all these years under the sea. It was my fault for scaring you off like that. I shouldn’t have dropped the news on you so abruptly. But I promise you this,” He plants light kiss to your lips as he closes his eyes. “I love you no matter what form you take. Whether you have legs or a fish tail, I’ll love you all the same. So please, don’t leave me so suddenly again.

“Oh Jiyan…!”

The waves crash against the rocks as you and Jiyan share a tender kiss, eyes closed as the water ripples around you. Opening your eyes, you shift into your human form as Jiyan smiles at you with blushing cheeks. The two of you make your way out of the water, and Jiyan cloaks you in order to preserve your dignity. Though if he was being honest with himself, it’s mostly because he wants nobody else to see your bare form.

If someone were to describe it, they’d say the trip back to the city of Jinzhou would be something out of a fairy tale, where you cuddled up to Jiyan as the truck makes it way back to civilization. Jiyan wastes no time bringing you back home, needy kisses on your neck and collar bones as you stumble through the front door. None of you realize just how starved the both of you were for attention before the cozy atmosphere of Jiyan’s home ignites that tiny spark.

After barely making it to the bedroom, Jiyan gently sets you down on the soft mattress of his bed, bashfully looking up at him through your lashes as he disrobes. Jiyan wastes no time kissing you again, tangling his tongue with yours and swallowing your moans, your legs feebly wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. Your soft curves contrast nicely with his muscular frame, the heated friction between your bodies making your head dizzy.

“Ah… Ji-Jiyan…” Whimpers fill the space as Jiyan nibbles at the flesh of your neck, biting and kissing such a sensitive place. Aiming to draw more sinful noises from you, Jiyan finally pays attention to your chest, pawing at one of them and gently kneading the flesh. The sensation was foreign to you, as you never paid much attention to that area before, but Jiyan’s mouth swallowing one of your buds was enough to get you moaning louder.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to do this?” Jiyan whispered, the pads of his thumbs drawing circles on nipples, teasing them until they hardened. You couldn’t reply, squealing when he suddenly tugs on your chest. “When you came to the bathhouse, I could barely control myself… You were so stunning,” He sucks on your nipple as you sob, your hands finding their way to his hair. “I wanted to devour you right then and there. But I couldn’t. Not with all those people around.”

Truly, you had no idea what you do to this man. You grip the sheets as you panted out, your chest littered with tiny bite marks and covered in saliva. Jiyan kisses your nipple one last time before settling between your legs. He was knelt on the floor of his bedroom as he parted your thighs, revealing your most intimate parts. You sit up, supported by your elbows as Jiyan licks at your inner thighs, shivering as his tongue makes contact with your skin.

“Mmmph!”

You throw your head back when he suddenly kisses the little pearl hiding in your folds, legs shaking as Jiyan licks up from your pussy to your clit. A yell escapes you when Jiyan’s mouth latches onto your clit, his groans sending sensual vibrations to your core, his fingers parting your folds to reveal your weeping cunt. This was a whole other range of emotions you never delved into before, but Jiyan is ready to take those first steps with you. Jiyan’s lips suckle on your clit with a vengeance as his fingers teased the entrance to your pussy, making you weep and cry out. “Jiyan! Oo-oooh- Hah! I-It feels… Good…!”

“Doesn’t it?” Jiyan asks, panting as his fingers tease your slit. “You’re being so good for me… Good girls deserve proper treatment.” You gasp when his middle finger slips in, Jiyan cursing when he feels your walls immediately tightening around his digit. His index finger has an even tougher time trying to join its twin as you babble about his treatment being too much. Your protests trail off when Jiyan finally manages to insert both of his fingers inside. Jiyan’s eyes widen when your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, your pussy gushing out a white liquid.

Heavens above, you came just from two of his fingers. Your walls pulsate around the intruding digits, either trying to pull them inside or push them out. Either way, you keen as Jiyan plunges his fingers all the way in, trying to loosen up the tension in your core. You feel like he’s thrown you into the deepest parts of the ocean, trying your best to swim against the currents of arousal trying to drown you. However, the loss of Jiyan’s touch when he pulls out his fingers makes you whine, sitting up again. Your face is all red and sweaty, drool running down your chin. “Why… Why did you…”

Jiyan says nothing, instead turning you on your stomach as he climbs back on the bed. You whimper, feeling his hands part the globes of your rear in order to reveal the mess you’ve made between your legs, arousal dripping onto the sheets below. Jiyan lets out a groan at the sight, feeling his erection twitch. “Brace yourself,” he kisses your shoulder and tacet mark as he lines the head of his rod towards your entrance, hissing when the tip kisses your messy hole. Your grip on the sheets tighten when the tip breaches the ring of muscle, soaked by your arousal. “C-Come on… Loosen up for me, love.” Jiyan whispers, one hand keeping your hip steady while the other rests on your hand. Attempting to comply with his request, you will yourself to relax, moaning as Jiyan inches inside.

With every agonizing second, you find yourself becoming increasingly breathless as Jiyan takes up more space. By the time he’s fully sheathed inside your warm, gummy walls, you’re eyes have rolled back into your skull as your tongue lolls out from your mouth. Jiyan pants, struggling so hard not to immediately thrust into your warmth. You’re oh so precious to him, he doesn’t want to break you during such an intimate milestone in your relationship. “Hey, angel… Are you still with me?” He gasps out, leaning down to press light kisses to your tacet mark.

Though you couldn’t respond verbally, you’re able to nod your head. Jiyan kisses your tacet mark again. “I’ll start moving now. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” When you nod your head once more, Jiyan breathes in and begins moving his length in shallow thrusts, testing the waters of your endurance. He listens intently to your pants and moans, and is quick to learn just what gets you going. Slick dribbles from your cunt as you become more vocal, spurring him on to speed up. His hips slap against your ass while his cock drags against your walls, searching for the one spot that’ll make you see stars. He finds it when you suddenly jolt and push back against his thrusts, and Jiyan starts attacking that sensitive area. Each stroke of his cock stimulates your sensitive walls as he takes in the sound of your voice breaking, struggling to say his name.

Still connected, Jiyan takes one of your legs and settles it on his shoulder, making lay on your side. The position has him reaching deeper than before, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Ji-Jiyan! Ohhhh! Mmmph- Haaaah! Oh- S-Sensitive!- Mmmp!” You could barely speak, eyes hazy and struggling to keep open from the pleasure he’s dutifully giving to you. Meanwhile, Jiyan finds himself in the same situation, panting and groaning out your name while he furiously ruts into your warm cunt. The headboard bangs against the wall as he passionately thrusts into your pussy, his cock twitching against your poor walls.

“I’m gonna cum…” He pants, leaning down and resting his forehead on your chest. Such an intimate act is offset by the harsh slapping happening between your legs, your pussy gushing around his length as you feel a knot building inside your tummy. Your eager moans are swallowed up by Jiyan’s mouth as his thrusts become rough and sloppy, slamming into your weepy cunny and stirring up your insides. Your muffled sobs are silenced by Jiyan’s own groans as the knot snaps, legs trembling as Jiyan spears you deep, feeling a warm liquid coat your walls. Jiyan curses as he thrusts a few more time, shoving his cum further inside as your cunt swallows every last drop.

The two of you stay like that for what seems like an hour before Jiyan finally pulls out, watching as the mixture of your arousals leak from your cunt. You’re trembling after the whole ordeal, hips bucking up and causing more of his cum to leak outside. Jiyan lays down next to you and pulls you in, kissing you again.

A few weeks later, you’re recognized as an official citizen of Jinzhou, and you’ve moved in with Jiyan. Every once in a while, the two of you would return to where it all started, at a beach at Tiderise Cliff. Jiyan joins you in the water, holding you close as you embrace him underneath the surface. You breathe air into his lungs, temporarily giving him the ability to breathe underwater.

You’ll never be lonely ever again <3

[letorip]

Which of Jenna’s characters do you think would be the clingiest? (I loved your headcannons ❤️)

most clingy

this was a very wholesome one to think about, i had great fun. thank you the anon who submitted this. same deal as last time, if you're tl;dr my take is at the bottom

wednesday addams:

she likes to put up a tough front of needing nobody and desiring to be alone, but once she falls for you, it's as bad as morticia and gomez

you live in a room on the other side of campus, and she's made it a habit of sneaking to your room almost every night. she scales the fucking dangerous, rickety old roof to get there each time, but she'll do it, because she'll get to sleep with you

sometimes it's to sleep with you, if you catch my not-so-subtle drift, and then other times it's because she wants to sleep with you

of course, she'll disguise it as "my room has broken air conditioning" or "enid is snoring," and you just smile, nod, and lift the sheets for her to get in

she's not a huge cuddler in the sense that she wants to lay directly on you, but she wants to be around, in the same bed

you do this almost every night, and if you don't, she's knocking on your door right when people are let out of their rooms in the morning to hang out (or make out) before breakfast starts

she's virtually moved in with you, at this point. she has a toothbrush in your bathroom, several outfits in your dresser (in her own drawer), and she leaves dead animal skulls and occult books around to "liven up the place." they definitely don't match your pre-existing decor, but you don't mind because it's wednesday

she's not super fond of pda of any sort, but she'll definitely be right by your side when you're hanging with mutual friends. she'll hold hands under the table or kiss you when there's a private moment, but she's not all over you physically when other people are staring at you both

she does definitely get super jealous

she'll make little comments like "bianca seemed friendly" or "divina finds you awfully funny." if you're tutoring someone in the library, guess who will also miraculously be at the library at the same time? sitting in a chair with a perfect angle of the table you're at and peeking over the top of her book

wednesday is almost always with you, because you're one of the few people she trusts and longs to frequently be with

tara carpenter:

you live with tara and sam, so it makes sense that you and tara slowly grow closer and closer until you start dating

she absolutely loves to have at least one point of contact with you whenever she can. she'll lean against you, lean her head on your shoulder, wrap an arm around you, just let your shoulders touch, or when she really wants to, she'll leave a hand on your knee

when you’re both watching a movie, she’ll cuddle up against your chest and start to fall asleep there, especially if it’s one she’s seen before. you turn the movie off but don’t move, because if you do tara will wake up

during the events of scream vi or any time there’s a ghostface threat levied towards her or sam, she’s especially attached to you. she doesn’t sleep as well and refuses to leave your side, as she’s paranoid ghostface will come to take you from her

you assure her that you’re okay and she can sleep, grabbing her hand and squeezing it three times (i. love. you.). it calms tara down a bit, and though she’s still worried and makes sure the apartment is locked and you’re all safe, it helps her sleep

when things calm down again, she’s not super clingy in the sense that she’s always with you. you’re both in college and have your own classes, and though she wants you near, you both can function as separate people. it doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to be with you, but your work and school keeps you both a bit more apart during the day

you both text frequently though, not because she doesn’t trust you and wants to be on top of you, but because it’s just nice to hear from you and you both love talking to each other. she’ll send you photos of cute dogs she sees on instagram or a reel she finds funny with a little note at the bottom that says ‘hope your day is going well <3’

tara does get rather jealous at parties. it’s not your fault you’re hot, but when other people approach you to “talk,” 9 times out of 10 you’re too oblivious to realise you’re being hit on

she’ll walk right over to the conversation you’re having with someone random and duck under your arm to wrap it around her shoulders. if that doesn’t work, she also has the tactic of narrowing her eyes, or if she’s feeling especially bold, just grabbing your wrist and dragging you away to shove you down on some random bed

people know in general not to fuck with tara when it comes to you. in a way it makes you her weak spot, but she will absolutely raise hell and stab whoever she needs to, in order to make sure you’re okay

shes definitely a cuddler. she’ll drag you back into bed and wrap an arm around your torso and hold you there. sam always wrinkles her nose whenever she walks past you both cuddled up against each other on the couch after a long day

lorraine day:

you meet lorraine as an actor in the adult films, when she’s still with RJ. it causes a bit of drama when she leaves him for you, but once you and her are officially together she never ever wants to leave your side

it even means she starts acting in them herself, and the best part is that with you, it’s not even really acting. she loves every minute and how free you make her feel, and because she feels it strongest while in your presence, she chases after it all the time

she’s a giant hugger, wether it be side hugging, or wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, to rest her head on your shoulder and watch whatever thing you’re doing

lorraine is so in love, and with you it’s a sweetness that shoots up her veins like heroin. you both eat together, sleep together, work together, and travel together

you always travel together except for once, when you had to go check on your father as his health declined. it was two states away and you went alone, because lorraine was due to keep shooting with jackson, maxine, and bobby-lynne. the entire time you were away after the filming wrapped, she stared out the damn window over the hill, waiting for you to pull up in your truck

it wasn’t long enough a time that she could’ve written a letter, but she felt like a soldier’s wife craving your call

when you got back she ran out to meet you and jumped into your arms. you twirl her around with a laugh and she’s crying into your hands and kissing your palms and then kissing you.

you laugh and say “lorraine, it’s been three days,” but she shakes her head and kisses you again. she’s so happy you’re home you go AT it that night, to the point where wayne knocks on your door to tell you to quiet down

she’s wanted to marry you since the minute she met you, and she tells you as such, even though it’s been a bit over a year

she doesn’t get super jealous, just because she knows fucking other people is just what you do for work. it feels different for you both, when you’re alone and when you’re in front of the camera. you’re both comfortable with yourselves and your relationship, and it’s the comfort she’s always wanted

i’m thinking of hourglass by catfish and the bottlemen, i think that song describes it perfectly

you’re always together, in your own perfect little version of heaven, and while it’s not clinginess from jealousy, it’s clinginess from love and being happy

cairo sweet:

cairo is not clingy whatsoever

not in the sense that she couldn’t give a fuck about you— though she definitely attempted to push that narrative at first— but in the sense that she knows she’s the best and she knows you’re both so incredibly solid. if anything, being apart makes seeing each other even better

she’s a romantic and a rich romantic at that, so whose to say she won’t go on a vacation for a few weeks without warning and then reappear at school for you to ask her where she went

part of her enjoys creating a mystery for you, and making you chase her. she likes the thrill of it, and in a weird way it shows that you care about her enough to find out where she’s been or what she’s doing. it’s somewhat refreshing, considering her parents are so careless and you care so much

she does get jealous when she sees you with other kids. you’re just as intelligent as she is, and you give tutoring advice and run several clubs, so there are always kids who need to speak with you. she knows it’s just part of your role on campus, but it does irk her a bit when she sees you talking to pretty girls who are all too suddenly interested in correcting their math test

most nights between you both are spent at her home, tangled up. she likes to drink wine, but you stay away from alcohol. that doesn’t mean you won’t kiss it off her lips, though

you both are avid readers, so sometimes she’ll lean against you while you both read separate books and sit in silence. it’s peaceful, and cairo always thought she’d want some whirlwind forbidden romance, which is why she’s so surprised she likes the quiet domesticity

she’s definitely somewhat a fan of showy pda in certain situations. she’ll sit on your lap in between classes and wrap an arm around your shoulders, and who’s to say the girl who she caught staring at your lips yesterday wouldn’t come around the corner at the same time to see you there

she makes it perfectly clear she doesn’t depend on you, though. you both exist as separate people. she finds couples joined at the hip as “vapid” and “full of braggadocio.” of course, she’s proud of her relationship with you, but cairo also values her independence and separation

not that many people were even aware you were together officially, until a good three months in. you would argue (flirt) in class during socratic seminars, but most kids thought you both genuinely hated each other

for what it’s worth, you enjoy cairo for all her cairo-isms. it may be cringe to other people, but you do fundamentally understand her in a way no one else really does, just because of how open and honest she is with you. it was a struggle for her at first, but she does appreciate you for it

another one down. really tried to stick to clingy but it definitely branched out to other stuff too because i think there are definitely many ways to be clingy. clingiest, i would say would be lorraine, with tara not falling far behind

[bunni-v1]

hii, can I request "First Years Finding Out Your A Girl" with sebek and ortho please?

Ortho and Sebek Find out You’re a Girl?!?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Swearing (as usual lol); Ortho being creepy; Misogyny mention <3; Reader goes by she/her and is biologically female; Book 6 spoilers (very light, but still there); Bunni hasn't read Book 7 and therefore doesn't know what they're talking about :)

Info: Ortho x Reader; Sebek x Reader; Fem!Reader; Platonic

🍓Hi. If you’ve read the first part of this, I copy pasted the intro. Not because I’m lazy or anything (I’m a little lazy, but I’m a full-time college student who also has a part-time job, so I think I can be excused.) It’s mostly because… It’s a good intro. If people are just discovering this stuff then they can read it, but if you’ve read the first part you can just skip to the good good yk. Anyway, long-ass babble session, but I didn’t include Ortho and Sebek initially because they’re kind of new to the First year group so idk. Felt weird including them. Also, I haven’t read book seven so Sebek I bullshit a lot lol. Anyway, they’re here now, and I absolutely ADORE Ortho, so sorry if my favoritism shows.

First Years

Second Years

Third Years

Dorm Leaders

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part. 

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

Ortho 

-Okay, so Ortho is a little creepy weirdo. He’s a highly advanced robot who likely has autism, and loves his big brother a whole fucking lot. 

-(Side note: Can a robot, child, or thing have autism? Does that mean Idia programmed Ortho to be autistic? How silly of him.)

-It’s my personal head cannon that Idia DECKED this kid out in as much high-tech gear as he could get his hands on. 

-He’s equipped with some of the most complex medical features, therefore he has access to a database of all students at NRC’s medical files. (This is not legal, but he does not care for the law.)

-“But Bunni, what does that have to do with the prefect?” Well, Ortho is ALSO equipped with the latest medical scanner on the market.

-Think like Baymax, yeah? He can scan everyone one time and know every piece of medical knowledge readily available.

-Well, Ortho, the sweet little creep he is, automatically scans the medical information of any new person he sees/meets into his database — just in case it may come in handy.

-So, before he even KNOWS you. Before he speaks a single word to you, he knows you’re biologically a female.

-He scanned you without thinking and just shrugged his shoulders at it.

-You’re not from here, and you got thrown into this, so you being a woman doesn’t really matter too much to you being at NRC. 

-It honestly could’ve been anyone getting stuck here, so why should he question it?

-However, he notices that you are referred to with exclusively “male” pronouns, so he marks in your file that you are trans and moves on. 

-Again, who cares? He’s a magical robot guy based on his brother's dead brother. Who was he to judge?

-When he finally ACTUALLY gets to interact with you after being welcomed into the first-year squad, he’s very respectful of your gender.

-You are a man to him, therefore he refers to you with exclusively masculine pronouns.

-However, everyone in your little group already knows, and they assume that Ortho knows. So when they speak about you, they use feminine pronouns.

-Ortho, sweet as he is, immediately questions everyone as to why they’re misgendering you.

-Protective of the people he cares for at heart, he doesn’t like the idea that your so-called closest friends are misgendering you behind your back.

-Doesn’t believe them completely when they explain, so he goes to you because you’re the only one who knows who you really are.

-“Prefect!”

“Hey, Ortho! What’s up? Miss me?”

“Of course I do, but I have a very important question.”

“Sure, what do ya need?”

“Are you a woman?”

-At this point 90% of your friends know, but there is a handful that doesn’t… and you can’t be having that.

-You, of course, assure Ortho that you are not only a woman, but that your friends are not misgendering you behind your back.

-Relieved, he takes several of your friends off a hit list and removes the trans man label on your medical chart.

-Asks why you hid your gender in the first place.

-Promptly adds Crowley to a hit list (again).

-Ortho, out of EVERYONE at NRC, has absolutely zero behavior changes toward you. 

-He’s equally protective as he was before, he spends the same amount of time with you as usual, he doesn’t suddenly have some weird crush on you, and he’s still trying to set you up with Idia.

-Honestly, everyone should take notes from Ortho. He’s the best at this whole thing.

Sebek

-On the other hand… do not take notes from Sebek! He sucks at this! He sucks really badly!

-Out of all the first years, Sebek is not only the least close to you, but he is also incredibly mean. So you just… feel no obligation to tell him.

-In fact, you kind of… sort of… actively leave him out of the loop for a really long time.

-I mean, it's not an unreasonable thing to do. He is constantly berating you and putting you down for being human. You have no idea how he feels about women and you don’t want to find out first hand.

-In all honesty, he is the only person (other than Azul and the twins) that you’re really scared of finding out, and take extra precautions to ensure he doesn’t find out.

-However, you attend NRC, and nothing ever goes your way at NRC.

-Despite every precaution you take to keep your gender under lock and key, you overlook one thing.

-Malleus Draconia.

-His complete and total lack of social awareness is your downfall here. He finds out, and despite everything telling him to keep his mouth shut… he doesn’t. Because of course, he doesn’t.

-At this point, you’ve gone through most of your misadventures, and most — if not all — of your friends know you’re a girl.

-Hell, even Silver knows now. Everyone BUT Sebek knows.

-And he finds out because Malleus casually mentions it over dinner. Not even directly about your gender, he just uses she/her pronouns.

-Sebek, being Sebek, respectfully asks Malleus if he meant to say he. Malleus, of course, says no without a second thought.

-The shock and horror on Silver and Lilia’s faces was enough to be further confirmation.

-And Sebek’s world shatters.

-He was completely left out of the loop and also has a moral conflict now.

-As much shit, as I gave Sebek (as everyone gives Sebek) he RESPECTS women. His queen is a woman, and his mother is a woman. 

-In his eyes, women are some of the strongest people around. Regardless of if they’re human or not.

-You, on top of being a human from another realm who had successfully quelled several of the strangest students at NRC’s OVERBLOTS and came out on top, was also a woman.

-If that wasn’t strength, he didn’t know what it was.

-However, his bias against humans strongly clashes with his respect for women in this case.

-And it just… messes with his head. 

-He doesn’t treat you worse, in fact, he’s just… really awkward around you now.

-He doesn’t know if he should apologize or berate you for being a human, so he just stays stiff and glares at you.

-It's honestly more scary than him constantly talking down to you.

-However, once the two of you actually befriend one another, he apologizes to you. For everything, and explains where he’s coming from. Why he acted the way he did, how he really feels about you, and all that sweet shit.

-Afterwards, he is genuinely the best at keeping your secret (if he even needs to at this point).

-If there is anyone you can trust to keep his stupid mouth shut at NRC, it's Sebek. 

-His honor and pride force him into silence when it comes to secrets he promises to keep.

-In fact, if anyone is on your trail about it, he’s the first one to jump in the way and scare them off/shut them down.

[tragedy-of-commons]

no pickles

stellaron hunters & gn!reader | wc: ~750

In which they get your order wrong. Kafka, dear friend that she is, decides to make it known.

tags/warnings: crack, reader is not described, vague canon-typical violence, comedy, found family, everything is platonic

notes: oops updated formatting

When you first joined the Stellaron Hunters upon Elio’s suggestion (death threat), you never would have imagined the scene unfolding in front of you now.

Silver Wolf is double-dipping a greasy french fry into a dollop of ketchup. Kafka is dabbing her mouth with a napkin after her only sip of whatever soda she decided to humor, and Blade is standing guard by your table like some kind of intimidating fast-food sentry.

You, squished between all of them, lament your existence. Sam got to stay behind to “keep watch”, but you know the truth. His robot suit would terrify any children within a fifty mile radius, and this CosmiBurger is teeming with them. 

“Silver Wolf,” you mutter.

“I’m not sharing,” she answers immediately.

“That’s not what I–! Ugh, whatever. I was gonna ask why you chose this place for lunch. Don’t you think it’s a little below our pay grade?” “We don’t get paid, newbie. Elio doesn’t cover us eating out, so we have to be cheap.”

“You’re just saying that because you blew our budget on Roblox Premium,” you deadpan.

Kafka interjects. “Look on the bright side, hm? The novelty here is something we rarely get to experience - and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bladie this happy.”

You spare a glance at your colleague. His scowl speaks for him.

Ignoring the fact that apparently Kafka’s got jokes now, you heave a sigh and poke at the lump of foil in front of you - a tangible warning of an impending stomach ache. The burger inside will have to serve as sustenance if you don’t want to wait twelve more system hours to eat.

Since Silver Wolf is now preoccupied with one of her handheld consoles, you don’t delay with your squabbling any longer. When you unwrap it and take your first bite, you’re blindsided by the overwhelming sour note of what can only be The Condiment That Shall Not Be Named. You can’t obscure the subsequent (ugly) scrunch of your brow and lips.

“Cyanide?” asks The Gamer That You Will Strangle One Day.

You glare at her and deposit your now even-more-unappetizing sandwich on the table. “You wish. They, uh, just got my order a bit wrong.” There’s a contemplative hum from your side that makes your heart skip a beat. Kafka stops playing with a strand of Blade’s hair to give you a coy smile. “Is that so?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you complain. “It’s not a big deal, I’m just not a fan of pickles.”

“You should ask for a replacement. After all, you did mention that in your order,” she drawls.

You bristle. “I doubt the employees get paid enough to put up with that.”

Blade speaks for the first time today in that gruff tone of his. “You draw the line there? You’ll slaughter on command but stop at inconveniencing the working class?”

“Everyone’s picking on me! Smear campaign!” you accuse, pointing at the brooding man.

You don’t expect a reply from him, which he honors by staring at your outstretched finger with what could be described as murderous intent. Kafka chuckles.

“It’s the principle of the thing, darling. I’ll handle it.”

“Wai–”

You don’t get another word out before she confidently rises from her seat and saunters over to the register, leaving you with your jaw on the floor. 

Silver Wolf is back to blowing bubblegum and spawn-killing some poor sap, but she makes the time to snicker at your plight. “That’s weak, newbie.”

All you can do is become an idle passenger in your own body as the scene unfolds in front of you. Maybe you try to stop her, but Blade’s lanky arm blocks your path. 

Sometimes you wish she’d just have a little more fear. Kafka converses with the cashier with her innate allure as you resign yourself to your fate of public humiliation.

The words audible over the ringing in your ears sound through the air in Kafka’s dulcet voice.  “They asked for no pickles.”

When she returns from the counter two minutes later with your presumably correct order, you’ve already decided that today has been the most harrowing twenty-four system hours of your long-life. Your stupor is cut short as the new pickleless burger is dropped into your hands like a gift from the Aeons.

“See?” Kafka teases. “It was no trouble at all.”

“..Thanks,” you cough into your hand awkwardly.

Lunch resumes its usual flow, but you’re still stewing in regret that boils down to a simple, bitter thought: You should’ve just ordered the chicken nuggets instead.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 32

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Threats of SA; Threats of harming an infant; Distressed baby

Rick had stopped at every sign, letting you out while Carol or Lori cared for Birdie. You had used a tube of the baby’s diaper cream to paint a white bird on each surface. There were likely better things you have used but this one, you knew Daryl would understand and follow. Anxiety was slowly crushing your chest and try as you might to swallow it down, it was nearly impossible to bear.

It was at least an hour of Birdie crying restlessly before the warehouse was found. The dead surrounding it were little in number, easily dispatched by those that weren’t a child, pregnant woman, or one who had a baby suckling at her breast. You carried a bag on each shoulder into the building, wishing it were enough to help you feel like you were doing your part. 

You sat away from the door, knowing that’s where Daryl would have placed you and his daughter, furthest from any entry point. It was also to hinder her cries from attracting anymore walkers. She was inconsolable, something—mother’s intuition, perhaps—telling you that she had been made worse by the absence of her father. And as much as you loved their bond, you wondered how dangerous it could prove to be to encourage it. 

“I said leave it, Lori!”

Your head snapped up to find Rick stalking toward the door with his wife on his heels, her hands below her protruding belly as she attempted to keep up with him. “Rick. Rick, we need to talk this out!”

“No!” He barked. “What we need to do is survive, and we can’t do that if I don’t stay focused.” When she tried again, he turned with a shake of his head, leaving her there with tears in her eyes. 

“Lori.” You whispered, getting to your feet. It was difficult to get off the floor with a baby but you managed. You couldn’t stand to see her like that. No, Lori wasn’t perfect and she made a mistake. She had been alone with a child, acting out of fear once she had been told her husband was dead. Maybe she had loved Shane. Maybe she hadn’t. No one talked about it and perhaps they shouldn’t. It was all irrelevant anyway. Lori was there and pregnant and hurting so deeply. “Hey.”

“Oh. Hey, uh—” The woman turned and wiped at her eyes as if you hadn’t already noticed the glimmer of moisture. “Hey, Y/N.” Her eyes were drawn down to the wriggling bundle in your arms, little squeaks and sniffles escaping from behind the blanket. “How’s little Birdie?”

“She’s fine.” You lied, flinching when the newborn screeched. Taking a moment to move her onto your shoulder and begin patting her back, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I think she’s missing Daryl.”

“Yeah.” A gentle hand reached to pet the back of Birdie’s head. “Y/N, I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Lori was always so strong for everyone, her thoughts on the decisions that would affect the group never going unspoken. But then, at that moment, she sounded so small, so uncertain. 

“Don’t be.” You caught her hand before she could pull it back, holding it tightly. “I love Rick but he’s wrong. He’s wrong and he’ll realize it. I’m just so sorry that he’s hurting you like this in the meantime.” You stood by your words. Rick was trying to do what was right for the group, but even that was being influenced by the anger he harbored. For Shane. For Lori. For himself. 

“I deserve it. 

You blinked, mouth agape. “You do not!” You shook your head incredulously. “Look, you made a mistake. Doesn’t mean you need to pay for it over and over.” She mimicked you, her hair swinging back and forth. 

“No, I really do.”

“Lori.” You said pointedly. She looked you in the eye, face wet and flushed. “I get it. You were angry with him for what he did to Shane. It was a lot to take in and maybe your first reaction wasn’t the best one, but you’re trying to talk now, trying to understand. He’ll come around.” You gave a shrug. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll sic Daryl on him.” You smiled when she laughed wetly. 

Lori reached for your shoulders, pulling you in for a wide hug that angled to one side, Birdie and her belly making it laughable. “Thank you, Y/N.” She wiped her face with one hand, cupping yours with the other. “You know, I was a fool for thinking you were trouble when Daryl carried you out of those trees. I’m sorry for that.”

You waved dismissively with a quiet pfft. “Don’t worry about it. I am trouble.” Her smile dampened but didn’t disappear. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Birdie began to root against your neck with a series of coos and squeaks. “And we wouldn’t have this angel if you weren’t.”

Chuckling you began to wiggle your arm out of your shirt, Lori stepping forward to help. “Now if I can just get her daddy to eat as much as she does, we’ll be set.” Before you could situate your bra, the baby began to fuss, growing louder with each cry. 

“Well, she sure sounds like her father.” 

“Facts.” You nodded, grinning and guiding Birdie to your breast. “Grab Carl and come sit with me? We can work on some math.”

The sun had set, the knot in your chest growing tighter with each minute that Daryl didn’t walk through the door. Beth had taken Birdie to give you a few minutes of peace with Carol sitting just behind you. 

“He’ll be here. Daryl’s smart. And so are you for the signs you left for him.” She was brushing your hair, pampering you the only ways she knew how with the limited means at her disposal. 

“I hope he’s okay. What if he’s hurt? What if he ran into the herd?” You were twisting the front of the sweater you had thrown on when the temperature had dropped even lower. 

“He’s smart, Y/N.” You heard the quiet sound of the brush being sat aside. The woman’s hands began to work at your shoulders, eliciting a moan from you and a chuckle from her. “He’ll be here.” You nodded, hearing Birdie begin to cry in the back of the warehouse. 

“I’m being summoned.” You jested. Carol was smiling when you turned around and levered to your feet. Birdie was still crying, the sound echoing like a scene out of a horror movie. “Carol.” Your voice had gone low, serious. “Why isn’t Beth bringing her?”

“She’s likely trying to soothe her on her own. She looks up to you and wants to help.”

Beth looked up to you? Oh, that poor child. You were no one’s role model. 

You listened for a moment more, your brow creasing, lips turning downward in a deep frown. “Carol.” You waited for her reply before continuing. “You remember how you told me that I would be able to tell the difference between cries?”

“Yeah?”

“I think this one is telling me something’s wrong.” Your stomach was churning, the knot of anxiety twisting in your chest was no longer for Daryl but for Birdie, a deep sense of foreboding that your child was affirming. Something. Was. Wrong. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s go check in then.” 

You nodded, feet moving with such haste that it took the other woman a quick jog to catch up. Birdie’s squalling had reached a new level, the breaths between cries barely audible in their stuttering. Without thought, you began to run, your tired body attempting to futilely resist. 

“Beth? Carl?” You shouted, the sounds of snarls and hands slapping the outside of the building growing louder with each inch of space you covered. “Beth!” The girl wasn’t answering. Lori and Maggie frantically called your name from somewhere behind you but Birdie’s desperate wails for her mother easily drowned them out. 

When you saw her, so small and fragile on the cold concrete, little limbs flailing, nothing else mattered. There was no blanket. No knit hat on her head. She was in only a diaper. 

“Oh god, Birdie!” What happened? Where were Beth and Carl? You didn’t stop, you needed your baby in your arms. The reasoning no longer mattered. You needed to ensure her well being before asking any questions. Nearly there, you exhaled. 

“Y/N, look out!” 

Without breaking stride, you turned toward Rick’s voice just in time to see the butt of the rifle. 

And then there was nothing.

Your head was throbbing, your pulse finding its way up to where the wet warmth was leaking from just above your right eyebrow. Struggling to open your eyes, you strained to focus through the rush of blood in your ears, the pounding of dead hands on the building’s exterior, desperately locating your baby’s panicked screeching. 

“Birdie.” You whispered, certain it was slurring. Your mouth just couldn’t form around the syllables. When everything finally cleared, you could see her. The tremble from the cold shook her tiny form. “Oh my god.” You whispered, attempting to struggle to your feet only to find that your hands were bound to a weighty shipping palette. 

Subduing your panic long enough to survey your surroundings, the glow of three kerosene lamps cast a pale yellow luminosity over the entirety of your group—similarly bound—with Rick and Beth struggling against the rope while the other heads remained bowed in a subdued level of unconsciousness. You turned your attention back to your newborn and renewed your fight against the restraints, your skin chafing and breaking open. 

“Mama’s here, baby girl.” Birdie would not be consoled. If anything, she grew more agitated. 

“So you’re the one stupid enough to have a shit-smearing biter magnet.” 

Your head snapped to the left, toward the roll-up doors. A group you hadn’t noticed leaned against the metal, armed to the teeth and reeking of mayhem. 

“The fuck do you want?” You snarled, a protective mother’s venom lacing every word. 

The single woman in the posse laughed, malicious and entertained. “Some fun.” She shrugged, her face split into a grin that made your teeth itch. “That’s really all there is left in this world. Survival and fun.” Lowering her rifle from its perch on her shoulder, she crossed the distance between the two of you and crouched. “We’re gonna take everything you have.” A finger traced your jawline, down your neck and circled your clothed nipple. “Everything.”

“Then we’re gonna let that gremlin bring the biters in to take care of the rest.” One of the men added without so much as a glance away from his handgun, the walkers growing louder as if they could hear and comprehend the promise of a fresh meal. 

Giving your breast a squeeze, the woman stood, scanning your group appreciatively before her eyes lingered on Lori. “Boys, you can take that one. I got no interest in that full belly.” She pointed the barrel of her gun at you. You never so much as flinched, your baby’s wails fueling a rage you’d never before felt. “I want her. And the kids.”

“You’re vile.” Hershel said in that level tone that usually ground on your nerves. In that moment, you found it more than fitting. 

“Ugh,” the female rolled her eyes. “Kill him first. No one wants those wrinkly old balls in their face.”

The words left you before you could even consider their consequences. “You’re gonna die today.” When she smirked at you, your steely glare remained. She lowered to a knee and pressed the muzzle into your chin. You barely contained a wince when your head was forced to tilt back. 

“What I’m gonna do is fuck that ruined pussy with this rifle and listen to your baby scream.”

Twisting onto your left hip, you brought up your right leg, your boot connecting with her temple just as she sat back. “Bitch.” You seethed, watching her topple over. Another man rushed you, his fist snapping your head to the side, reigniting the stars in your vision that you had only just managed to lose. 

“She’s gonna be fun, boys.” Staggering to her feet, she stumbled over to Birdie and pointed the rifle at the infant’s head. “Maybe I’ll just shoot the little one and let your screams bring the biters in when we’re done with you.”

“No!” Your anger faded to fear within a split second, the various voices of your then conscious and collective group pleading for your baby’s life. “Okay, okay. I’ll cooperate!” You bartered. “Just wrap her up. Please.” 

“I don’t think so, mama bear.” 

A noise from the front of the warehouse drew her attention, but not yours. Your wide, wet eyes were glued to that gun aimed at your daughter. Please, Daryl.

“Think the biters got in?” An older guy asked, hocking up mucus and spitting it at your feet. 

“Maybe. Go check it out.”

He obliged with a shrug, whistling the entire way until he disappeared into the darkness. 

The taunting continued, the other three group members moving from person to person, pointing out in disturbingly vivid detail what they liked or disliked about that individual. You paid them no more mind, instead watching the little contorted red face of your baby girl. You couldn’t warm her, comfort her. How could I let this happen?

“What the fuck?” 

Blinking back the fat tears you had given silent permission to fall, you followed everyone’s perplexed gazes toward the front of the warehouse. The old man staggered out of the darkness, a spray of blood his predecessor. His throat was gaping wide. 

“Gary?” The woman hyperventilated, her rifle nearly falling from suddenly inept fingers as his body collapsed to the concrete, not to move again. He must have meant something to her. 

Good. You smiled wryly. 

“Come out!” One of the other men shouted, prompting crazy lady to raise her own weapon. 

Your eyes flickered back to Birdie, yanking and wiggling against your bonds again, the ropes wet with your blood and unyielding. The baby was wearing herself out, cries simmering to shivering breaths and hiccups. The ropes did not give. Bitch could tie a knot, you’d give her that. 

“Oh.” The woman’s voice was suddenly excited as she bounced on the balls of her feet. “I think papa bear’s joined the party.” She made a show of deliberately placing herself just above Birdie, moving her rifle a fraction of an inch before you watched Daryl, blood-saturated and dirty, step out of the shadows.

“Don’t point that thing at ‘er again.” He wasn’t pleading. He was demanding. 

The woman’s eyes sparkled, her free hand covering her mouth in an oopsie expression while she redirected the gun—finger on the trigger—right at you. “Is this better, your majesty?” In a flurry of clicks and shouted warnings, Daryl’s crossbow was aimed at her while all other weapons held him in their crosshairs. 

“M’a give ya one chance to walk outta here.”

She cackled, throwing back her head. “I don’t think you’re—”

“One chance.” Daryl repeated, his mouth unseen from behind his weapon. “Ya’d do well to take it.” There was a tremble to his frame visible even from the distance that lay between you. If you could see it, so could they. The only difference being that you knew it wasn’t from fear. 

“I want him too.” The woman jerked her chin toward your partner. “Put down the bow, pretty boy. You’re not gonna waste any ammo today.”

“Won’t be a waste.” With a quick twist of his torso, three things happened simultaneously: The crossbow fired. The ropes around your wrists went slack, the sleek length of the bolt pressing just against your skin. And Daryl stepped back into the shadows, a barrage of bullets following his retreat. 

With the enemies’ attention on the unknown whereabouts of the archer, you scrambled across the floor and scooped up your baby, throwing yourself backward onto your ass to slide behind the pallets that had held you. Her skin was so chilled, her tiny frame shivering as her distressed cries renewed in their intensity. 

“Mama’s got you, baby. Daddy’s here. Daddy came for us. It’s okay.” One arm at a time, you managed to pull yourself free of your sweater and bundled her up. You drew up your knees and held her close to your chest, shielding and warming her simultaneously. “They won’t touch you again.” 

Glass shattered, the area dimming as a bolt destroyed one of the old lamps. 

“Come out, you bastard!” 

Another lamp fell victim to Daryl’s aim. 

“Where is he?”

With a final sound that echoed for more than a moment, the environment was cast into darkness with only the myriad of gunfire battling the shadows that Daryl was using to his advantage. With each discharge, you curled tighter around your daughter, her howls splintering every inch of your heart. You longed to hold her properly, soothe her, fight away the fear that clawed relentlessly to sink its claws into such a space of innocence. You wanted to join the fray, rip out their throats, but Birdie needed you exactly where you were.

And she would always come first.

The number of weapons that fired continued to dwindle, the cling of metal against the concrete preceded by a shout or gurgle. 

Your archer was taking them down one by one. 

You wanted to see it, wanted to witness them suffer, even if it was for a mere moment but you couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk Birdie’s safety. 

“Someone get him!”

“Where the hell  is he?!”

“The fuck should I—” Another gurgle, another thud. 

“Fuck!” The woman screamed, her voice carrying from somewhere further away. You couldn’t be certain if Daryl had intercepted her or if she was simply fleeing, but as long as she was far away from your group—your family—you didn’t care. 

“Y/N.” Carol’s voice somehow managed to break through the chaos in your head, your eyes searching her out in the darkness. “Y/N, he got them. Can you—” 

“Yeah.” You breathed shakily, unfurling from around Birdie to shuffle blindly forward, bowed over the little bundle to ensure you didn’t knock her into anything that might be in your way. “Yeah, I’m coming.” 

You found Rick first, cutting his ropes one-handed with a piece of glass from one of the lamps. Lucky you, it had been found by sliding your knee over it. 

“Take care of her, I’ll get everyone else.” He instructed. You nodded, knowing the deputy couldn’t see but it was all you had in you at that moment. 

“Where’s Daryl?” Beth asked, her young mind falling right into sync with yours. 

Why hadn’t he come to you immediately? Was he hurt? Had he given chase to the woman? 

You squinted against the flashlight’s beam, one eye clenching shut as you found Carol kneeling over one of the men, a bolt lodged in the right side of his neck. His head was at an odd angle, suggesting that the puncture had not been the end for him. 

With your family surrounding you, all eyes wide and cautious, looking for danger, watching for Daryl, you finally settled but only in the slightest. Muscles still tense, you shifted Birdie, drawing up your knees to place her on your elevated thighs. 

“Hey, there, little Dixon. Ssh, it’s all okay now.” Slipping a hand beneath the sweater, the relief of feeling warming skin nearly brought you to collapse. 

“How is she doing?” Hershel asked, his voice elevated to be heard clearly over the distraught infant. Your strength was nearly at its end. 

“She’s cold, Hershel. It—the sweater’s helping but she’s still so cold.” Your fingers were stroking her cheeks, brushing through wispy blonde hair, rubbing her belly over the sweater while careful of the drying umbilical cord. 

“Babies are resilient, Y/N. And this little doll just happens to have the genes of one of the most stubborn men I have had the pleasure of knowing.” A gentle hand rested on your shoulder. “I’d like to take a look at her all the same. May I?”

With a sniffle, you lifted Birdie, her tiny head just beneath your chin. One last gentle squeeze, you supported her head and passed her over to the veterinarian, scrubbing your hands over your face as you stood. You must have looked a wreck, but you needed to find Daryl, needed to hold him almost as desperately as you had needed to cling to your child. 

“Please! Just let me go!”

You spun where you stood, searching out the woman. “Daryl?”

“Were ya gonna let them go?” Daryl’s voice was menacing, his tone low and bleeding with promise of maleficence. You were acutely aware of others trailing as you followed the voices, moving boxes and stepping around tools to climb the stairs to the second level.  

“I—”

“Mm-mm. Don’t.” He spat, the sound of more containers falling over against the wall. “Don’t bother.” 

He came into view a little at a time, more with each step you climbed. His crossbow was on the floor. His crimson hands were empty. Still, the woman cowered, backing toward the windows with her body folded, palms up over her head in surrender. 

“Daryl!” You tried, but he didn’t acknowledge you. 

“Just let me go. I’m the only one left and I—Please, I don’t wanna die.”

Suddenly your feet wouldn’t carry you, heavy laden and stuck to the floor with the weight of your disbelief. You wanted to laugh just as much as you wanted to pluck the knife strapped to Daryl’s hip and slit her throat yourself. 

“Ya threatened my girl. Ya wanted to use my daughter as walker bait!” The archer hissed, his fingers flexing in and out of fists. “A fuckin’ baby an’ ya wanted to kill ‘er.”

You could hear the others at the top of the stairs, halting just behind you with the same interest of watching the scene play out, trusting Daryl to do what was right. 

But what was right?

“Ain’t gonna kill ya.” He finally said, tilting his head as the woman began to stand straight, the fear dissolving before your eyes. Daryl was a better person than you could ever be. If he walked away, it was going to take every single individual on that landing to restrain you. 

“Thank you. I’m so sorry. Thank you. I’ll disappear, I’ll change. I won’t—”

He moved so fast, grabbing her shoulders while driving the sole of his boot straight into her knee, the sickening snap of bone causing your stomach to roll while a sense of vindication washed over you. 

She needed to hurt. She needed to suffer.

Her screams stimulated the walkers around the building, their rotten fingers scraping against the metal, palms pounding, teeth gnashing. 

Daryl spoke loudly, holding her up by fistfuls of her shirt, his face inches from hers. “Said I ain’t gonna kill ya. Never said ya weren’t gonna die.” He shoved her, his boot once again connecting with her body, a kick to the abdomen with enough force to send her soaring backward. She crashed through the window, nothing but the splintered wood and shards of glass accompanying her to the ground.

Straight into the herd of ravenous undead. 

And her blood curdling wails of agony were music to your ears. 

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Hello, hope you're doing alright. I have a pretty twisted one shot request concerning our amazing Shadowsinger. I was looking at the super natural dark dialogue prompts list and I feel like the #24 and #36 would fit perfectly for my request.

So basically: I was thinking about Azriel capturing the reader. She's a spy from the Spring Court and she was on a mission wandering at the border of the Night Court. When the reader wakes up, she's tied up in Azriel torture room. She also realizes how Azriel seems to be drawn to her. As she tries to find a way to make him untie her, she remembers something about Illyrians obssesion with bargains and deals. She offers to make a deal with him that the first one to make the other cum earn a favor. If she wins he spares her life, and if not he can kill her. And like as they conclude the pack, a tattoo appears on both of them and bla bla bla... and she ends up winning this challenge maybe?

Can't wait to see if you'll be willing to write this! I think it would have a lot of potential if written by you. Anyways, keep up your good work. I love your writing.

Okay, I know I said my next release would be the POM bonus bits, and then I’d be working on my other pieces, but I got this request and had immediate inspiration for it, so here it is!

Thank you to whoever sent this in! I hope I did it justice. It was very fun to write! I hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

The prompts you requested to be included in this will be written in bold.

Note: I haven’t tagged anyone in this because I desperately need to sort out my tag lists and haven’t had the chance. I’ll add them later if I get the time. Sorry!

Warnings: Smut! 18+, minors dni. NSFW. Some details of aggressive behaviour. Azriel being a sore ass LOSER.

Lust is a Losing Game — Azriel x Reader.

You can feel the caress of Night before your eyes open.

Every single court you have trespassed and traversed has its own distinct feel. The Autumn Court feels perpetually — and unsurprisingly — like a stroll through a forest, touched by brisk air and hues of oranges, yellows, reds. Your home court — Spring — has a feeling of renewed hope; like the first rays of sun after a long, harsh winter.

The Night Court is blood-drenched, rippling darkness, and the allure of scandal, of want, of lust.

Night time is for secrets and exploration. It’s for burning the bridge between who you are in the daylight and becoming something…else. It’s exciting, and it’s coaxing, and—

Cold, sharp metal prods beneath your chin. Its point is lethal. Any wrong move, and you’re bleeding.

Perhaps even more lethal is the quiet voice that commands, “Eyes open.”

Slowly, you comply — because you are both intrigued and wise. Intrigued by where you went wrong and where you ended up. Wise, because you know that cold, granite voice.

It doesn’t surprise you in the least to open your eyes and find Azriel the shadowsinger stood in front of you, his blade at your throat.

You know of him, of course — spymaster of the Night Court, a rare species of fae, far more powerful than many realise. You’ve sat across from him during terse meetings between courts and been the target of those guarded, icy stares. You’ve never heard him utter more than a few words at a time; he is spoken for by reputation, by violence and threat and battle.

But you’d know that voice anywhere.

You peer up at him through eyes blurred by some sort of power. And when your lips tilt up into a smile, a subtle tick of his jaw tells you it incenses him.

“Hello, Azriel.” You rasp.

The blade presses into your skin as he asks, “What were you doing at the border of our court?”

“Picking wildflowers. Foraging berries. Making a daisy chain. All the things a lady loves to do.”

A quiet noise sounds in his throat. “Is that what you are? A lady?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be, shadowsinger.”

His answering smile is cruel. A harsher press, and his blade nicks your throat. A drop of warm blood blooms on your skin.

Your eyes, rapidly clearing, take quick stock of your surroundings. The room is dark and damp and cold, empty save for the chair on which you sit — to which you are constrained. You can scent the blood of a thousand previous victims of the shadowsinger, and you imagine the vacancy of the space must have been more intimidating to them, somehow, than if the room were filled to the brim with torture instruments. The lack thereof tells anyone who finds themselves here that the Night Court’s spymaster does not need such things to do his work.

You try to shift in the chair, and find yourself well and truly stuck in place. Your gaze drops to your feet, where shadows act as manacles, as firm and strong and steel. Though your hands are restrained around the back of the chair, the cool touch tells you that a shadow binds them, too.

Azriel follows your gaze. A smug smile graces his mouth as he watches you try and fail to move.

“An impressive little trick.” You offer, nodding to the shadows around your ankles. “Now be a gentleman and untie me.”

“Tell me what you were doing at our border, and maybe I will.”

“Tell me your secrets and I’ll tell you mine.”

“You’re not really in the position to barter, right now, are you?”

“And yet, here I am.” You smile. “Bartering.”

He stares down at you, shrouded in shadows, in night. His aloofness has been perfected over centuries, but you somehow know where to look in order to tell — you’re getting on his nerves.

A slight angling of his head. Shifting on his feet. He drags the tip of that blade up, not pressing quite hard enough to draw more blood, but to make a twisted heat enter your veins. The blade stops at your cheek.

“I don’t know how you do things in the Spring Court.” His breath caresses your face. “But I can’t imagine it’s part of your job description to be a smartass who can’t keep her mouth shut.”

Your eyes flick down to that blade. Back up to his gaze. “I can’t imagine it’s part of yours to lust over me so tirelessly.”

The shadowsinger actually falters.

Something tells you he would never do that in front of somebody else.

His teeth grit. He bites out, “Tell me why the fuck you were at the border—”

“I’ve seen you, you know.” A satisfied smirk curls your lips. You will not give away that your arms and legs are beginning to ache. “I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me for years.”

A clatter bounces off the walls as he tosses his dagger to the floor. Can’t be one that means much to him, then. You almost laugh, but a scarred hand is gripping your chin to the point of pain. He tilts — yanks — your chin up. “Pray, tell, how do I look at you?”

“With hunger.”

“Hatred.”

“Lust.”

“Loathing.”

“Like you want to touch me.”

“I am going,” he snarls, “to wrap my hands around your throat and—”

“Fuck me?”

“Kill you.”

A mocking pout puckers your lips. “Less sexy.”

"You must be a fool," his fingers bite into your skin, "to laugh in the face of such danger."

"What danger would that be? You've handed me your threats. What are you waiting for, Azriel? Kill me."

He could easily retrieve his blade and gut you then and there. You know it. He knows it.

And yet he doesn't do it.

He clenches his jaw so hard that you hear his teeth clash. He squeezes your chin, calluses and scars grazing you. It feels...good.

But then a growl is ripping from deep within his chest, and he's tearing his hand away and pivoting on the spot. He's confident enough in the shadow bindings to turn his back to you, clearly.

You just smile. He can't do it. Can't kill you.

"I'll do you the courtesy of asking one last time." His voice is strained. "Why were you snooping around our border."

"Perhaps I was hoping you'd find me and tie me to a chair. I'm into that kind of stuff, you know. We could make this fun."

"You think this room is intended for fun?"

"I think you and I could have fun anywhere, shadowsinger."

He says nothing. You watch as he sucks in a deep breath, steels himself. By his command, a shadow dances out and retrieves his blade from the floor. His fist flexes at his side.

Perhaps you can irritate him enough that he'll either kill you or let you leave out of pure exasperation. Or turn on the tears and plead innocence, that you're just a foolish, foolish girl doing her High Lord's bidding.

Or perhaps you can have fun.

You scan your brain for what you know about this court. How you can use it to your advantage — use Azriel to your advantage. An idea knits itself in the twisted avenues of your mind.

"This court has a thing for bargains, does it not?" You watch Azriel's shoulders tense at the sound of your voice. "How about making a bargain with me?"

He chokes on a scoff. "Why would I want to make a bargain with you?"

"Because you want me."

Slowly, he turns. His eyes are narrowed, mouth pinched. He looks two seconds away from using that blade to wipe your head clean from your neck.

But then he smiles, cruelly and coldly. "How very sure of yourself you sound."

You mimic that smile. "I am." Damn right you are. "So here is my deal: you toy with that lust however you like. We tease each other. Coax reactions from each other."

"Where is the bargain in that?" No outright refusal.

"If I make you cum first, shadowsinger," your eyes fall to his breeches. You could swear you glimpse the outline of a bulge. "If I make you cum first, I get to walk out of here with my head still attached to my body. But if you make me cum first...well. You get to know why I was snooping around the Night Court border, and you can send my head back to my High Lord in a pretty little box."

He stares at you for what feels like so, so long. Head to toe, his eyes rake over you. His shadows whisper in his ears, things you don't need nor care to hear.

Because you might not have his shadows, but you are a spy, just as he is. And you know his mind is already made up.

Shadowsinger, spymaster, feared member of the infamous Night Court — but still, a male weakened by lust. Lust for you that has driven him mad for a long, long time.

Still, he tries to keep up a front. He sneers at you, "You'd so willingly barter away your life?"

You smile. Simply, prettily. "It turns me on."

Oh, he's lost to his need. There's a newer scent that has joined the present ones of cedar and night-chilled mist and bloodstains. This one is deeper, smokier. Spicier.

He points his blade at you, the tip glimmering. And the shadow binds fall away as he demands, "Undress."

Your hands fall back to your sides. "Are you saying you agree to my terms?"

"Yes. Now take. Your fucking. Clothes off."

"What way is that to talk to a lady?"

"You are no lady—" His words fall short as, with a snap of your fingers, your clothes disappear. Leave you in nothing but your undergarments. His eyes drink in the brassiere, the silky little fabric that hangs from your hips. He swallows. "And I am no gentleman."

A spy you may be — someone who throws themself into danger and risk and dirt and blood, time and time again. But you never see a reason not to wear pretty underwear while doing so. And gods, in this moment, you're very glad of that choice.

It's the same colour as the siphons that adorn the male before you. The coldness in Azriel's eyes is replaced by intense, raw heat. He takes a step towards you, but you kick out a leg.

"Your turn." You say.

He pauses. Chucks his dagger aside again.

And then his clothes are gone.

He doesn't seem the slightest bit fazed by the fact that he stands utterly naked before you. So much golden, sculpted skin on show. All over, white scars tell the stories of previous injuries. His body is a novel written over time.

That silky underwear of yours is already soaked as you take your fill of him. For a moment, you think you might stumble in your bravado. He's huge and hard and standing to attention. Utterly perfect.

But you sit up straight in the chair and plant your hands on the arms. Your legs part, and Azriel hungrily tracks the movement.

"There is only one rule." You tell him. "We don't want to make this too easy, after all."

His jaw flexes. Eyes don't stray from the growing damp patch between your thighs. "What's the rule."

"You can touch me. You can lick me. You can put your cock in my mouth and my hand and rub it against my skin. But you can't fuck me."

He starts, pupils blowing wide. "But—"

"Not today." Your lips curl up. "But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me."

"You are wicked."

"Do you accept my rule?"

"Yes."

You are wicked, indeed. You widen that gap between your legs until you're hooking them over the arms of the chair. Baring your silk-covered cunt to him. His eyes damn near roll into the back of his head at the sight.

"Do you think you can stand to touch me without fucking me?" You hum, your fingers dancing down to that, sweet, sweet spot. You run them over the dampness, biting your lip. "I don't think you can."

"You underestimate me." Azriel growls. "And you're going to cum first."

There is no opportunity for you to volley a response. Not as Azriel surges forward and yanks you out of the chair, his arms securing you. His firm, velvety cock presses against your stomach. His lips slide over yours in a harsh, bruising kiss.

A male of natural elegance and grace, he doesn't even falter in the kiss or his steps as he marches you back, back, until you're pressed up against a cold wall. You nip his bottom lip and reach between your bodies, wanting to feel the pulsing weight of his cock in your palm, but his hands are grabbing your wrists and holding them above your head.

"No hands." He snarls onto your lips. "Just my cock and your cunt. Whoever cums first is the loser."

You almost want to laugh. So, so easy this will be.

But then he's letting go of your hands and pinning you with a knee. And out of fucking nowhere, a slim bottle appears between his fingers. You watch, leaning against the cold surface of the wall, as he pulls the stopper out of the bottle and tilts it towards you.

Oil drips onto your chest. Rolls down your breasts, your stomach. Azriel watches with predatory focus as it floods to where he wants it — soaking your underwear.

The blue silk darkens, sticks to your skin. Showcases everything that Azriel so desperately wants, but everything he will not get — today.

And then so quickly, he's hoisting your leg at his hip. So quickly, his cock is pressing into your soaking undergarments.

He positions his length between your thighs and guides it through your clothed folds. Both of you let out an immediate gasp at the taunting sensation — that a mere bit of fabric separates you from what you both want.

"Is this how you're going to play it?" Your head falls back, teeth digging into your lower lip. "You think thrusting through my clothes is going to stop you from cumming?"

"No." He makes a small noise, slowly rolling his hips. Watches his glistening cock rubbing against the silk. "But I think I'm going to make you cum fast from it."

"And then you get to kill me."

"And then," the head of his cock nudges your clit, "I get to kill you."

The sensation is divine, you can’t deny it. A coiled, aching pleasure that sits tightly in your lower belly. Azriel hears your intake of breath, and he smiles like this will be easy for him. You’re having none of that.

You’re thankful for your refined stealth and balance as you clamp your leg tighter around him, pull him harder against you. His hands press flat against the wall either side of your head, and you both gasp as his cock rubs so torturously against you, up and down and up and down.

“Gods,” He grunts, dipping down to brush his lips against yours. “This is torture.”

You smile. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to remove my underwear? You still can’t fuck me, though.”

A suffering groan chokes out of him, and he throws his head back. Because yes, he fucking wants you to remove your underwear. Yes, he wants to feel his bare skin rubbing against your bare skin.

But gods, the temptation to slide his cock into you is going to be unbearable.

But even though he knows that, and you know that, he smiles like this is nothing. He bites out, pleasure wavering his voice, “Why not? It’ll only make you lose.”

“I think you’re giving yourself a little too much credit.” You say, and then your underwear is gone, leaving you naked and dripping with nothing to shield you.

Not expecting it so fast, Azriel’s cock slides easily through your folds — and the head nudges your entrance. Very nearly slips in. He growls and halts the roll of his hips.

“Oops.” You smirk. “Careful, shadowsinger.”

“You’re fucking insufferable.” He bites back, and then he’s kissing you.

The kiss robs you of breath and of words. All you can do is twine your arms around his neck and welcome the sensation of him fucking through your folds, your wetness his pleasure. You’re lost to the feeling of him bumping against your clit, rubbing against it. Your legs are beginning to tremble.

“I want to fuck you.” Azriel moans, dropping his head to take in the sight of his cock against your pussy, never entering, never going deeper.

“I know.” Your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “And you have wanted to for a very long time.”

“Yes.” He can’t even deny it. “Yes.”

“You think about me.”

“Yes.”

“You wonder what it’s like to be inside me.”

“Yes.”

“But not today.” Your hands stroke down his muscled arms, and you moan as he grinds his cock against your clit. “Not today.”

“Nor any other day.” His hand fists in your hair, yanking your head up. “Because I will have your head. Cum for me, lady.”

He kisses you again, and gods, you want to cum. Every single inch of you begs and trembles for it. You’re clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you, fucking into you, spilling into you—

But through your pleasured haze, you remember: you will be victorious. Azriel cannot win.

And so when he’s kissing you and kissing you, moans catching in his throat and landing in your mouth, hips faltering with every thrust, you pull your lips from his and sink your teeth into his neck with a harsh bite. You’ve always imagined he’d like that.

And simultaneously, you lock him between your thighs and roll your hips torturously slow, dragging every last sensation from him.

Azriel’s cock, nestled snugly between the folds of your cunt, spasms and twitches. He slams his hands against the wall and goes still. Tries to pull back the control.

But it’s too late for that.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and then ropes of cum are spurting out of him and landing on your stomach, your breasts, your arms. Beads of it roll down his cock. He trembles hard, panting, groaning, growling.

And you suck harshly at his neck. Suck until it leaves a mark. And then pull away with a smile.

Breathing so, so heavily, Azriel’s gaze drops down to his cock like the damn thing has betrayed him. He’s wide-eyed and outraged. He’s not sure what’s just happened.

A horrid longing still aches between your legs and makes you want to continue until you’re exploding, too. But the triumph of a win is pleasure in itself.

“Well, well, well.” You glance down at the cum now coating your skin. “I do believe I was right.”

“What—” Azriel breathes, shaking out of his lust. “What kind of witchcraft was that?” He touches his neck, where you bit him. As though the answer lies there.”

You shrug. “No witchcraft, though I’m flattered you think so. You simply lost the game.”

“I. Don’t. Lose.”

“You just did.” You pat his shoulder. “There, there.”

He rips away, so fast that you almost fall. “Get the fuck away from me.”

“Gladly.” With a snap of your fingers, you’re squeaky clean and clothed once more. Azriel’s clothes return, too. “And I’ll do so with my pretty head still on my shoulders—

“Get out.”

“Because I won the game—”

“Get. Out.”

“A bargain’s a bargain, after all—”

“I will not tell you again.” His hand grabs the back of your neck, hard enough to bruise, and he marches you to the door, yanking it open. “Out.”

You’re thrown into a dim-lit hallway, your body colliding with a cold brick wall. You throw Azriel a smile over your shoulder, despite your teeth singing at the impact.

“Try not to wank over me too much!” You call, as he slams the door shut behind him. “See you around!”

It’s only once you’ve winnowed back to your own court, and you’re bathing the day from your skin, that you notice the small black band inked into your upper arm. You scrub at it until it’s red raw. It doesn’t budge.

The mark of a bargain. But you had always believed that the tattoos of bargains disappeared once the terms were fulfilled…

But if I win, and I walk out of here? Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me…

It had all been bravado. And yet…it had unwittingly been woven into the bargain.

Some other time, Azriel, you can fuck me.

That’s the only way you’re getting that mark off your skin.

[heliads]

Hi! Hi! I have been reading your Eric Coulter fics and I don't know if you're still into Divergent but i can i request a eric coulter x fem!reader where they go from rivals to lovers and literally everyone in Dauntless has bets on them to be together?

'rumors of rivals' - eric coulter

masterlist

Four’s got another pet project, but for once, it isn’t you.

It’s a habit of his, one he’d do best to kick. Although Four may like to keep his indifferent silence and pretend as if he were a shallow-hearted Dauntless through and through, he’s got a soft spot for the people he likes. He’s got a knack for finding similar souls and winning them over, even as he acts as if he couldn’t care less about any of you. He did this while you were an initiate, and now he’s repeating the process with one of his new trainees, a girl named Tris.

Since you don’t work the initiates, you haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Tris Prior, although you’ve heard Four talk about her often enough that you have a good gauge of her likes, dislikes, and every single conversation she’s had with your friend. For someone who claims that he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself, Four’s awfully attentive to Tris.

It makes you laugh, both when he’s around and not. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, it seems that even the toughest of Dauntless fall victim to their hearts every now and then. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, that’s one test you won’t be failing. Four may have fallen in love, but not you. Not a chance. The only decent one around here is Four, and he’s clearly besotted with Tris. No other men even come to mind.

Four and Tris catch up to you, and he begins the introductions. “Y/N, this is Tris, the initiate I’ve been talking about. Tris, this is Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine.”

Tris smiles at you. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Four has said a lot of good things about you.”

You laugh. “It can’t be more than what he’s said about you, trust me. I think all of our conversations are now about you.”

Tris laughs too, evidently surprised at your camaraderie. “I’m sure he’ll argue with that, but I’m glad to hear it. I have to say, I knew what to expect from a Dauntless Leader, but you’re way nicer than I expected.”

You grin. “Oh, trust Four to talk up my reputation. We’re not all totally dramatic around here.”

Four rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you’re not locked in one of the worst rivalries Dauntless has ever seen.”

Tris widens her eyes, curious. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Four doesn’t mean anything because he doesn’t know what he’s saying. There’s nothing there.”

Four scoffs. “Of course there’s something there. Tris, Y/N’s just denying it because she’s too embarrassed to admit that she’s totally obsessed with beating Eric at everything.”

Tris claps a hand to her mouth. “Wait, I know what you’re talking about. Everyone in the faction has been gossiping about Eric and one of the other Leaders. You don’t mean that–”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly. “The rumors are about me. They’re just jokes, though. Nothing to take seriously.”

Four arches a brow doubtfully. “Of course they’re not.”

You swat him in the shoulder. “Anything more on the subject and I’ll push you off a roof, Four. Watch your tone.”

Instead of taking your threat seriously, Four just cracks a rare grin and keeps his triumphant silence. In all honesty, he’s not wrong about the gossip, and neither is Tris. You have been rivals with a certain Eric Coulter for most of the time you’ve been at Dauntless, if not all of it, and beating Eric at anything from a fight in the ring to glowing recommendations from the other Dauntless Leaders does indeed make your day like nothing else.

At this point, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. There’s no way you could ever like Eric, he makes it impossible to so much as smile around him. He’s insufferable, that’s all, and he always has been.

You remember that from the very first day you arrived. Eric had been through initiation a year before you, so of course he swaggered about the faction like he knew everything and you knew nothing at all. It didn’t matter that you mastered every challenge that initiation set before you, it didn’t matter that, at the end of your training, you came out with the highest rank. No matter what, Eric would always boast that he’d done it better when he was an initiate. And, since the two of you weren’t in the same year, there was no way of proving him right or wrong.

Once you graduated initiation, your ill-fated relationship only took a turn for the worse. Both of you were gunning for positions as Dauntless Leaders, and did everything in your power to claw to the top. It was a common assumption that only one Leadership position would be vacated, meaning that one of you would succeed and one of you would do the worst thing possible for a Dauntless:  you would fail.

Instead, both of you were appointed as new Leaders, and now you’re forced to spend even more time with him than before. Eric is more hands on, especially with his new position as an initiation leader, whereas you’re more devoted to strategy and all the ways to keep Dauntless as a faction running as smoothly as possible. The two of you clash whenever you so much as step into a room together.

Over time, this rivalry has drawn the attention of the entire faction. There’s hardly a soul in Dauntless that hasn’t witnessed the two of you going for each other’s throats at some point. Last you heard, some faction members were even going so far as to place bets as to when the two of you would get together, but that’s absurd. You and Eric hate each other. There’s simply no way you’d actually manage to get over your mutual loathing to fall in love.

“He’s an unpredictable asshole, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you growl to Four.

Instead of being answered by your friend, however, a new voice joins you, one that makes you want to put your fist through a wall. “Are you talking about me again, L/N? I’m touched.”

Four and Tris exchange some interesting glances, which you definitely don’t appreciate. You turn to glower at none other than Eric, who’s somehow emerged out of the throngs of Dauntless milling about to appear right by your side. It’s as if he was summoned from your mere thoughts alone.

“So you heard me talking about an unpredictable asshole and immediately assumed it was you? That’s lovely, I didn’t know you had such great self-esteem.” You hiss.

Eric just grins. “You’re always so kind to me. Truly, it makes my day.”

You glance to your opposite side, hoping to deflect onto Four, but you notice that he and Tris have somehow disappeared into the crowds again, leaving you alone with Eric. You’ll have to chide him about abandoning you later, once you manage to shake Eric again.

Eric notices the changing subject of your attention and chuckles. “They left already? Can’t say I blame them.”

“Neither can I,” you fire back. “Having to spend time with you isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.”

“See, that’s the difference between the two of us,” Eric intones, holding up a finger appreciatively as he speaks, “There’s no punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s because I’m capable of doing anything to eliminate those who would rise against me. It’s what makes me a better Dauntless. I’m not surprised that you lack the courage.”

You groan in annoyance. “It’s a saying, Coulter. Goodness, I see why you’re not an Erudite. Critical thinking is not your strong suit.”

Unfortunately, Eric doesn’t seem particularly affected by this insult. “I’ll leave the critical thinking to you, L/N. The glory of battle is mine as always.”

You arch a brow. “Remind me who kicked your ass the last time we met in the ring? I’m sure the glory of battle was totally on your side then, too.”

Eric’s voice turns razor-sharp. “How about a rematch, then? Tonight. That is, if you can’t manage to talk yourself out of facing me again.”

You stop walking, meeting Eric’s eyes dead on. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Scared?”

“Not a chance,” he fires back. “I’ll see you then.”

With that, he stalks off, leaving you fuming yet again. You could name a hundred encounters that have taken place exactly like this one. It’s strange, you’ve always prided yourself on your control of your temper, but something about Eric Coulter just drags out every bit of irritation and passion from your heart.

Glancing around, you see that more than a few people have turned to look at you and Eric as you passed by, and are now whispering to each other. “Shut up,” you mutter at no one in particular, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to stop the flurry of gossip.

Great, now you’ll have another rumor to add to the mix. As if you needed any more. Grimacing to yourself, you set off again. You’ll be looking to tonight’s fight with Eric, if not for a release of anger than anything else. It would feel good to beat him up again, you decide, and it’s about time his ego got knocked down a peg or two.

Eric is waiting for you in the empty gym when you let yourself in later that night. The two of you arrive at the same time whenever one of you challenges the other to a fight. It’s become a sort of tradition. You know exactly when and where to find each other because you’ve done it so often. It comes to you like breathing, like living. Instinctive, intuitive. You and Eric may not see eye to eye on most subjects, but in the ring, it’s like he’s your double.

You and Eric face each other warily on the ring. There’s no one else here, not after hours, so the entire gym is empty. Even the smallest of sounds are amplified by the solitude, each shuffle of your feet from side to side sending ripples of echoes up to the high ceiling before bouncing back down again, creating ghosts of your every movement. The lights are dim. The shadows lengthen Eric’s already numerous tattoos, making him look as if the darkness could swallow him up entirely if you were to turn away for even one moment.

You lunge first, mostly as a feint to get his attention. At your level of fighting experience, both of you know better than to truly attack first. Eric aims a blow at your midsection, but you duck just in time, dropping low to kick his legs out from under him. Briefly, Eric loses his balance, but manages to regain it in time to send a returning strike your way.

On and on, the fight progresses, the tide rolling from you to him back to you again in an endless circle. Eric manages to pin you first and huffs out a triumphant breath, but you get him the next round. You’ve spent enough nights like this that every move seems familiar. Although the precise victor of the fights may switch off from night to night, the actions themselves have been done so many times that it feels like muscle memory.

You’re sure it’ll be a night just like any other, but then something strange happens when Eric wins again. Both of you have ended up on the surface of the mat, and after briefly striving for the upper hand, Eric manages to make it there first, and he swings his weight over you, pinning you to the ground. His hands lock your wrist onto the mat like cuffs. You try to throw him off again, but it doesn’t work, and the two of you rest there, panting from the exertion, but worst of all, looking at each other.

You wait for Eric to move off of you and begin the cycle again, but strangely enough, he doesn’t. Instead, Eric looks, he looks at you like he’s never seen you before in his entire life. You feel as if you couldn’t move a muscle, and lie there perfectly still. One twitch of a limb, one wrong breath, and he might react, or worst of all, leave. You don’t know why, but you know for certain that shattering this moment would destroy you both.

Slowly, carefully, Eric releases his hold on your arms, but you don’t swing at him. The erratic rise and fall of his chest has slowed as easy breath returns to him, but when he had held you down moments ago, you could still feel his pulse thundering in his veins, tumultuous and irreverent like the clash of a thunderstorm.

“Y/N,” Eric whispers, low in his throat and urgent. You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure that there is anything to say, not without giving something away, a secret so terrible and all-consuming that to utter it aloud would use up all of you, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a person who had once been you.

He’s waiting. For what, you don’t know. Or, you don’t want to know. Both of you are on a precipice, the edge tall and mighty, but unlike the roof back at the entrance to Dauntless initiation, you do not know that the fall won’t kill you. You could survive this jump, sure. But you could also break your bones in the leaping, and come out of this a ruined version of someone who had thought they knew everything about Eric Coulter, and then learned otherwise.

The indecision is too great, and so you do something utterly befitting someone of your station, and you run. Eric doesn’t move when you suddenly slip out from under him, nor does he stop you when you leave the gym. It isn’t a Dauntless move to flee from a fight, but then again, you transferred here from your home faction in the Choosing Ceremony, so the habits of the brave haven’t been instilled in you completely. You still, it seems, have a lot to learn.

The walk back to your apartment seems treacherous. There aren’t that many people out at this time of night, but you swear that of those who remain, every eye is on you. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Isn’t it true that these people have guessed what you are when it comes to Eric Coulter? If they see you, they will know.

You crawl into your bed and hope for sleep, but nothing comes. You stare at your ceiling in the dark, wondering what you’ve done. You’ve claimed to hate Eric for a very long time, but the way you felt in that ring, with him looking down at you– None of that was hate. You haven’t felt an absence of anger like that in such a long time that you’ve almost forgotten how to name that emotion entirely.

You get up the next morning, exhausted and confused, and complete your daily duties in somewhat of a haze. Every one of your moves feels mechanical. Eric is busy with the initiates, so your paths shouldn’t cross. When he finds you later that day, then it must mean that he sought you out intentionally. You’re not sure if that’s for better or worse.

You do your best to shake him, but he tracks you down eventually, pulling you into an empty room and shutting the door behind him. “Y/N,” he says urgently. “We should talk about last night.”

You don’t want to, not when the way he says your name reminds you of the way he’d whispered it last night, soft and careful, none of the things you have ever associated with Eric. It wasn’t as torturous as you expected, being alone with him without a fight to separate you. In fact, if you weren’t on guard, you would even admit that you liked it.

When you remain silent, Eric sighs, frustration beginning to tinge back into his breath again. “I know something happened. We can’t just pretend otherwise.”

You glance back up at him. “Can’t we?” You ask. “We can go back to fighting all the time. I’m sure it would come easily to both of us.”

You’ve become an expert at provoking him over the years, but now, in the face of all your attempts, Eric’s gaze remains neutral. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, you start to say, but for some reason the words dry up in your throat and the only thing that comes out is a terrible, awful exhale, “No.”

Eric hasn’t let go of your hand since he pulled you into this room. He seems to remember it now, his thumb rubbing light circles back and forth against your wrist. “Neither do I. Turns out, the only thing I like better than fighting you is when we aren’t fighting at all.”

You’ve never understood it when people say their heart skipped a beat, but you feel it now, the stuttering of desperate hope locked between your ribs. “So– you want–”

“You, Y/N,” Eric interrupts. “I want you. I always have.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like victory. Hot, brave, triumphant. A thousand nights undefeated in the ring couldn’t light you up with a fire half this bright. Sometimes, the rumors are true, and sometimes, the very man you thought was your greatest rival was instead your best love. Eric is all of these things, but most importantly, he is yours.

requested by @simoneashwinis, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alexs-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[awkward-tension-art]

Clone Force 99 (+ Howzer) S/O Cutting Hair to Escape

Random idea of the boys having an s/o with long hair and needing to cut it to escape. No this isn’t me projecting because I have long hair. Not at all. No projection here.

Tw: Gender neutral (I try to be inclusive of all readers), violence, hair cutting with knife, threats, brief mention of death, all of the boys being sweeties tbh

This isn’t proofread so I die like a man

“Are you willing to listen to my terms now?!” The Twi’lek had her fingers in your hair, pulling tightly. It hurt, badly. And she wasn’t alone. There were a couple of other criminals around. All their own blasters were pointed at either you or the man you loved.

You swallowed, staring directly at your lover. His blaster was steady. He had good aim, but was he confident enough to take the shot with you so close?

You had a knife, but the armor the twi’lek criminal wore was too thick.

But your hair wasn’t. In one swift movement, you slice the strands of hair she had gripped so tightly. Once you had ripped yourself away, taking her off guard, your lover took the shot.

Hunter

Once you’re in his arms safe and the threat has been taken care of, he’s pissed. Not at you, but at the fact that this happened to begin with. His senses should have detected the threat and he should have protected you. Instead, you nearly got hurt because he was distracted.

If you’re super upset about your hair, he’s going to try and be reassuring. You still look amazing to him, but he understands if your hair is important to you for whatever reason. He’ll wipe away any tears and just offer comfort for such a loss. Yea, it grows back sure, but that’s doesn’t mean it’s any less important to you.

Hunter will struggle to look at you for a while. Not because he thinks your impromptu haircut is ugly, he just blames himself for what happened. He feels guilty he let something like this happen and It reminds him that he failed you.

Even though he’s upset with himself that he allowed this to happen, he’s so understanding and comforting to you.

Echo

He’s gonna fret over you and make sure you’re not physically hurt. He’s apologizing for letting this happen and not thinking of something to get you out of the clutches of a criminal. Like Hunter, he feels some guilt over what happened.

Once he knows you’re alright, then he’s gonna be heart broken for you and your hair.

He loves your hair. He loves playing with it. And he knows how it’s important to you. Even if hair grows back, he knows what it’s like to have a part of you taken. So he won’t judge your tears or emotions over having to cut your hair in such a way.

He’ll hold you and comfort you, giving soft reassurances.

Though, once your hair does grow back, he’s gonna suggest maybe tying your hair up to prevent something like this happening again.

Tech

He’s panicking until he knows you’re alright. He checks you over for any wounds and once he sees that you’re not hurt, he’ll hold you close.

He kisses your forehead and doesn’t even comment on your hair. To him, you just did a very clever move to get away from a criminal. It’s a shame about the hair, but you’re alright and that’s what matters.

Tech isn’t unsympathetic, he just won’t fully know you’re upset until you say something. He’ll offer what comfort he can but he might not entirely understand why you’re upset. It’s just hair, and even if he finds your hair beautiful, it’ll grow back.

You’ll probably have to explain why your hair is important and why losing that large amount of it upsets you. Once you explain, he becomes more sympathetic. Later, he’s going to do some research for way to potentially help your hair grow faster.

While your hair is in the process of growing back he also researches ways to take care of it. Like special oils, soaps etc. he’s a sweetie that way.

Wrecker

Might be more emotional than you, to be honest. Like Echo and Hunter, he’s upset you were grabbed by a criminal. But the fact that you had to cut your hair to get free? He’s beyond upset.

He is in despair. Wrecker loves your hair so much. He loves to play with it. Help you style it. He even learned to braid just so he could braid your hair (and Omega’s)

As your hair is growing back, he pretty much showers you in compliments. He knows how much your hair means to you and he’s gonna do his best to make up for what happened.

Even when it’s short he’s still gonna play with it to be honest.

Crosshair

He holds you so so tightly when you’re free. Crosshair will be shaking so badly. His emotions hit him waves. First was fear. Then relief.

Then rage. Absolute rage.

You’re his love. And you were in danger. You were forced to destroy something important to you in order to get free.

He’d feel useless. Like he failed you spectacularly. And now you were forced to cut your hair because he was too slow to react.

His anger over your hair is in connection to how you feel about it to be honest. If you’re emotional over the loss, he’s out for blood against the entire criminal group that did this. But if, say, you’re minimally upset and move on quick, so does he.

You wore it long because you liked it long. So he liked it.

But, bright side, if you end up liking your hair shorter, he likes it too.

It’s your hair. So how you like it, he likes it. He’s a pretty simple guy like that.

Howzer

Surprisingly calm. Once you’re free, he’s holding you in one arm and using the other to shoot down the other criminals. Once they’re down, his focus is on you.

He’ll pet your hair and feel where it was unceremoniously chopped off. After a second he apologizes so softly for being unable to help you.

However, he won’t directly say anything about your hair other than ask how you’re feeling. If you’re upset, he’ll hug you, and reassure you that it’ll grow back. It just takes time.

To him, he honestly prefers shorter hair just on the basis of it being more practical for battle, but if you like your hair long, just like Echo, he suggests tying it up or styling it in a way that’s more battle friendly. He’ll even help you with it.

Bonus:

Omega (platonic obv)

She’s going to cut her hair. She sees her brother’s lover sad over their chopped up hair? Welp, you’re not the only one who had their strands butchered by a knife.

I’d imagine her brother and you return to the Marauder with cut up blonde strands littering the floor and her looking so proud with her….new look.

[moongreenlight]

GIRLIE PLS I NEED MORE YOUNG HOUSEWIFE x PRICE 😭😭

Instead of starting every ask response with “sorry it took me so long to get to this I suck” I’m just going to issue a blanket statement that I have like 45+ asks in my inbox rn and I get so overwhelmed looking at them that I just ignore them until I need to write something. I love you all for messaging me I love hearing your ideas and compliments please don’t stop sending them just bear with me as I sift through them. <3

Also- I got legit death threats on my first post like this. I’d like to make this ABUNDANTLY CLEAR that this is a LEGAL AGE GAP. It’s not grooming, it’s not predatory, it’s ENTIRELY LEGAL. You’re early twenties. He’s mid-to-late-thirties. Please do not bite my head off.

Anyway I’m back on my Price and his young housewife bullshit below the cut. Xoxoxo

Here’s the OG post if you need a refresher

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

There’s this scene in the MW3 campaign where Price and Farah are talking about where she got the missiles from and he’s trying to shoulder up with her, but she just shuts him down in the end. (Like always I hope you’ll trust me. Implicitly) (John Price the man that you are!!!!!!) and I really think that’s the household dynamic. He’s always the biggest in the room, but he’s got this incredible reverence and respect for women who can out-bitch him. Bends his rigid spine BACKWARDS for you. Would move mountains if you’d only ask.

Doesn’t always have to be serious things. Like maybe you’ve made friends with some moms in the neighborhood (it’s a point of pride for him that they’re all minimum 5 years older than you.) and they all go to this obscenely expensive Pilates class at six in the morning. You mention in passing that you’re signing up and the suburban white dad in him makes his ears perk.

“‘N how much ‘s this class going to cost me?”

“Dunno. Think it just goes on the account.”

“Course. Gym membership doesn’t cost enough as it is.”

And then all it takes is him seeing you in a matching workout set for all of his protest to die down. For SURE makes a comment about how he ‘didn’t know it’d be this worthwhile’

Loosely following that point, I think any real arguments get hostile very quickly. He’s not so egotistical that he won’t apologize, but I’m certain that it’s like pulling teeth to get him to that point. He can hold a grudge unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Borders heavily on immature when the two of you are in the thick of things. Starts shit just to start shit. (Secretly because he just loves makeup sex. Would rather eat you out until you’re sobbing than actually say the words “I’m sorry.”)

Having thoughts about him bringing you to some military ball. The both of you dressing up and sliding into the car that was sent for you just to sit on opposite ends of the backseat and not speak a single word. He burns through a cigar in record time and you toss back a few glasses of champagne. You both put on appearances getting out of the car. Hook your hand around his bicep while he shoves you inside with his hand on the small of your back. Hissing nasty quips back and forth about making this quick. Few hellos. Show your faces and then you can get home and get away from each other. Putting on appearances only goes so far, though, because when John is pissed- everyone feels it. Sucks the life out of a room and replaces it with an eerie feeling like a bomb’s about to go off.

He leaves you alone with a few other wives. Pulled away by Laswell with a promise of a ‘quick’ meeting. He comes back half an hour later fuming when he sees that somehow you’ve been pulled away from where he left you and found company chatting with his boys at the bar.

He gruffs some greetings before dragging you away by the arm so roughly that you have to stifle a yip.

“Are we leaving?”

“No.”

“So what is it, John? You’re making everyone think we’re miserable.”

“We are miserable.”

He’s yet to stop yanking you away. You have to do an awkward half-jog to follow him down a short hallway just outside the washrooms.

“Christ, would you just-“

“You look like a slag in that dress.”

He about throws you straight into the corner at the end of the hall. Muscles in his jaw ticking under the force that he’s using to grit his teeth.

“Sorry?”

His lips are brushing the shell of your ear. Bullying you further back into the wall. You’re entirely taken aback by his ferocity; especially because he usually prefers you wear something much more revealing than this. Some twisted point of pride, him seeing all the men your age drooling over you even after knowing you’re on his arm.

“Ought to let the boys pass you around. See if that won’t sort out that fucking attitude of yours.”

Theres some more protest from you, but it was entirely useless given how worked up he was. He ends up making good on his threat and shoving you into Ghost’s side when he brings you back out. He says something, but you can barely hear it over the blood rushing in your ears. Though you assume it’s a half-warning, half-explanation by the way Ghost snakes an arm loosely around your waist and gives a sharp nod. You get off relatively easy all things considered because Ghost is the only one smart enough not to take Price’s words at face value and sneak you away to some coat closet. That’s a permission granted only when John was present and in his right mind.

I cannot stress enough how much it gets him off to see you pregnant. Not like sexually, but he is nothing if not a glutton when it comes to feeding his ego. Likes it when you wear shirts that hug your swollen belly tight so he can see exactly how much your body is changing. Even better if they’re crop-tops that show off the skin that’s now littered with stretch-marks from growing his babies.

I have been saying this, but just to make it clear, he wants a small army of children. Like enough to have one of those trashy reality TV shows about how many kids you have. (In reality I’m getting 4/5 kids in total vibes) Loves coming home from work and seeing you carefully stirring a big pot on the stove while bouncing a baby on your hip, pulling a clingy toddler around on your leg, and situating your school-aged kids with their homework at the table.

But he most definitely hires a live-in nanny to help you out. Knows it’s not fair to leave you with that kind of responsibility. But also it just makes him so hot to see you mothering his kids that he needs to be able to take you away and not have to scramble to find something to occupy the kids.

Makes the nanny take over bath time more often than not so the two of you can take a bubble bath yourselves. He loves the casual intimacy of pouring two glasses of wine and having thirty or forty minutes to yourselves.

Having this visual of you before you’ve started having kids sitting in the tub after being strangely quiet all night. He offers you a heavily-poured glass of red and you’re a little glassy-eyed and staring up at him but making no move to take it.

“You alright, doll?”

“Mm?”

“Said you alright? Don’t want a drink?”

A long moment of silence from you. Long enough for him to perch on the rim of the tub and gently tip you up to look at him by putting a few fingers under your chin.

“John, I think I’m pregnant.”

“So no drink, then.”

[tra-archive]

Twitter has exploded with this whole “would you rather be stuck in the woods with a man or a bear” debate, and it shows that once again males cannot grasp women’s reasoning for choosing the bear.

Almost every woman I’ve seen online and talked to in person has picked the bear. Of course, males are using this as an opportunity to call out women for being dumb and not knowing how dangerous bears are. And of course, they’re wrong. So let me clarify something.

We are aware that bears are dangerous. We know bears can attack. We know they’re wild animals. We know not to fuck with bears, especially a mother and her cubs. We’ve heard all the graphic details about what happens in a bear attack. Bears are dangerous.

However, a bear operates on instinct. Bears don’t want to attack you, they’d rather be left alone. Bears will attack you if you’re perceived as a threat to them, their food, their space, or their cubs. Their behavior is, for the most part, predictable, and we have lots of knowledge on how to stay safe while in an area with bears. I’ve been hiking in bear country before, I’ve even seen bears by my house, and I followed all the tips that I was supposed to do. We left each other alone and I have never been hurt or even noticed by a bear.

So why are women choosing bears over men?

A bear won’t attack and kill you if you say you don’t want to go on a date with it.

A bear won’t rape you.

A bear won’t lie and manipulate you to get what it wants. A bear doesn’t hide the fact that it’s a predator that can be violent.

A bear won’t call you a bitch, cunt, whore, slut, feminazi, or any other degrading term.

A bear won’t try to justify sexual assault based on what you’re wearing.

Did a group of bears team up and torture a schoolgirl for 40 days until she died a horrible death? No, that was men.

Did a bear shoot innocent college girls because he was a violent misogynist? No, that was also a man.

Didn’t bears create an entire violent ideology that states they’re entitled to sex and that women should be forced to sleep with them? Oh wait, that’s incels.

Do bears make up almost 99% of sexual assault perpetrators? Nope, men again.

We know that all bears are dangerous. But we have no way of knowing which men are. Sure, it’s “NoT aLl MeN,” but it’s a significant enough number of them that we are wary of all. And instead of considering why women are choosing a wild animal over them and thinking “yeah, their reasoning makes sense,” many men have doubled down and said that they hope we get mauled by bears, further proving our point.

I CHOOSE THE BEAR.