#this shit came to me one night and then BOOM it was on the document idk about anything in between

[biscuityskies]

Shit writing Saturday <3

Haven’t done one of these in a while! To be fair… haven’t written smth I was excited to share in a while. Here’s this!! Lmk what you think 🥰🥰

Cody continues to stare, unseeing, out the viewport.

“I don’t know these stars,” he murmurs finally.

Kenobi says nothing. Cody knows he’s listening all the same.

“When I… grew up, on Kamino. There were rare cloudless nights. The seas would still for maybe only a few hours at a time, and the clouds would part around these brilliant points of light in a pitch black sky.”

He closes his eyes. He can just about see it; the rain-slicked platform, the cadets all hushing each other as they hurried outside, hoping no longnecks would catch them, no trainers would see them. Hoping that Fett himself was asleep, that his own cadet had been enough of a handful that day that Fett wouldn’t catch them either, all of them breaking rules.

“We would find our way around the biggest stars, first. The brightest. The ones that were always there. Those were our trainers. The guiding stars to direct us to where we needed to look. And then… we started naming the other stars. And we named them after ourselves. After each other. Our batchers, our squaddies, anyone. There were so many stars in the sky… but there were so many of us, too, what felt like enough to give each of those stars a name. The command formation has me, Bly, Fox, Wolffe, and Ponds, about two fingers’ width up from the star that was Alpha-17.

“Each of those names on that report—” Strato. Pusher. Scald. Cinder. Fuck, he knew where each of their stars was.

His eyes snap open again. Unfamiliar stars fall past him. It’s a cold sort of comfort, to distance himself from the urge to scream that rises in his throat.

“Cody,” Kenobi whispers, near silent.

He drops his forehead to his knees. “A swath of the sky has gone dark,” he replies. “And there’s nothing I can do.”

[wearyeyebrow]

Candid

Another task, another spreadsheet, another picture taken without his consent - Lucifer is wound tight. As the evening drones on he can't help but glance at the clock anticipating a night alone with you, preferably spent on his knees. NSFW. Tags under the cut.

Tags: Established relationship, Sub Lucifer, Dom MC, 2nd person perspective, they/them MC, AFAB MC, Transman Lucifer, edging, multiple orgasms, tribadism, oral sex, d/s dynamics, hurt/comfort, scene negotiation, porn with plot - do let me know if I've forgotten anything significant.

-

The student council room is quiet in the late afternoon and a great place to study. You’re sprawled out on a giant oak table cursing Solomon's illegible handwriting when footsteps echo down the corridor. You recognize the crisp click of Lucifer’s stride alongside Lord Diavolo’s heavier footfall, their voices too far away to pick up. You try not to eavesdrop, really, but they stop just outside the door left ajar.

Diavolo’s voice booms. “So the deadline snuck up on me - I’ve just been so busy with staff interviews. It’s a budgeting matter and you’re good with numbers so bringing it to your attention felt like the best place to start.”

Lucifer is quiet while scanning the papers in his hand, shuffling a few back and forth. Diavolo is childlike next to him, shifting from foot to foot.

“It’s doable but I’ll need to get started tonight if we’re going to get this in on time. The entire thing needs to be reworked…” he trails off and furrows his brow, holding the paper away from his face. You’re fondly reminded of how often he neglects to wear his glasses.

“Thank goodness! I knew I could leave it up to you.”

Lucifer only hums in acknowledgement, still squinting. The afternoon sun catches against the door and he’s set alight, beautifully framed in the archway. It’s easy to spare a drop of envy for one of God’s greatest creations, but his two-ton frown keeps most people at arm's length.

You blink at an unexpected flash, watching as Lucifer flinches at the sound of a shutter. He twists to glare at the guilty party.

“Lord Diavolo, I request you delete that immediately.”

“But it’s so rare I get a candid photo of you - it came out so well too, see - you look beautiful!”

Diavolo tries to hold up his phone but Lucifer looks just past it. “Delete it.”

“Come on Lucifer, it’s just one-"

“I’ll delete it for you if necessary.”

“But Lucifer-”

Suddenly, a third voice joins them. When or how Barbatos got there, you aren't sure, and you've long stopped asking.

“My Lord - pardon the intrusion, but your next meeting starts in ten minutes.”

“Is it that time already? Well, we’ll just have to table this conversation!”

“Lord Diav-”

“Thank you, Lucifer, for auditing the extracurricular budget, I appreciate your hard work! I’ll see you tomorrow.” Diavolo pockets his phone and takes off with Barbatos close behind.

Lucifer’s jaw is set in stone as he watches them go. Their animated chatter echoes down the hallway until they turn a corner and disappear. He clears his throat and turns to address the room. 

“Good afternoon.”

You snort. “You know, I bet I could  accidentally  delete Lord Diavolo’s entire photo gallery and he'd be none the wiser.”

"You needn't intervene on my behalf.”

“Of course I don't need to, but…” you sigh, “Do let me know, the offer’s always on the table.” You motion for him to sit and he does, closing the door behind him. He taps the documents in his hand on the tabletop, straightening the edges. Everything is in order until he thumbs through them again.

“What’s Diavolo put you up to this time?”

He doesn't look up. “I'm sure you heard enough to piece it together."

"Mm. When's it due?"

"Next Saturday."

"Don't you have a bunch of other shit to work on?"

Lucifer sighs. "It can't be helped. I'll manage." The setting sun catches against the metal rim of the window and he squints, massaging his temples.

Asking if he wants help is another way to say you don't think he can do it. His sin twists any offer of assistance into something to be ashamed of, and you know this. He also knows you know this.

You sigh, a little exasperated. "I realize that I'm talking to a brick wall here-”

“And yet you persist.”

“May I still come by tonight?”

“I…” he pauses, bowing his head in the fading afternoon sun, “I will hardly be at my best."

“I know.”

His eyes flicker to yours, softening at your gentle expression. He brushes his fingertips against your hand. "...I’ll be in my room by eleven."

-

Lucifer admonishes himself for almost nodding off again. So many numbers, so many Excel spreadsheets. He cracks his neck and continues typing, trying to make something of money the school doesn’t have.

His body is exhausted but his mind is wide awake, thoughts racing in the background, droning and cacophonous, itching and alive. He's moved to his bedroom for the evening and taken his work with him - his office is accessible, his bedroom is not. He’s kept his gloves on to avoid picking at his cuticles but he can’t help drumming them on the table, annoying himself with the sound.

He breathes a sigh of relief the second he hears a knock at his door and unlocks it with a wave of his hand, deactivating a few dozen curses.

You poke your head inside and see him at his desk, looking exactly as he did that afternoon.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft in the late hour, "How are you holding up?"

He manages a sardonic smile.

"Figures. Worse than you thought?"

"I’m surprised Excel isn’t a domestic export.”

“But it's supposed to be  so  much easier than doing it by hand.”

“Yes,” he drawls, “Easier. I just love redoing my work when it crashes - I love everything about it.”

You lean against the doorframe. “I dunno, you say that you love it, but your tone makes it sound like an anathema to all that is good in this world.”

His shoulders loosen a little when he laughs, lips curling into a slight smile. “How was your evening?"

"Not bad." You keep talking and wander over to his desk. "It was Satan's turn to cook dinner so the food was great, and Levi joined us too - oh! Mammon got a present from Luke in the mail."

"What was the occasion?"

"To hear Mammon tell it, he saved Luke from  great peril," you chuckle, "Of course, that’s not how Luke puts it. Mammon managed to get his hands on some Ursa Major Honey for Luke’s entry in the Devilsfood contest. Only the witches know how. Beel may have eaten most of his gift, though…"

"Mm, typical on all fronts." His tone is incredibly fond.

"We missed you at dinner."

"Since it was Satan's turn to cook, I doubt that."

You snort, "I saved you a plate. It's in the fridge when you want it… or until Beel eats it, I guess."

"Thank you." He sighs and sits back in his chair. “I... I’ve missed you. Solomon’s kept you busy and I’ve had so much to do - I hope you'll tell me if you ever feel neglected."

"Not neglected, just worried. When's the last time you slept properly, sweetheart?"

His face warms and he clears his throat. "I'd rather not worry you further."

"Humor me."

"...Five days, give or take."

"Lucifer…" You maneuver around to the front of his desk and lean on the edge. "I know you don't need as much sleep as I do, but you can still get sick, and your headaches won't get any better."

"Sometimes sleep is a necessary sacrifice."

"I'm well aware, doesn't mean I have to like it."

He only hums, distracted by your hand on his arm, straightening the creases of his shirt.

"I'll be forthright," you murmur, "I know how I’d like this night to go. You up for it?”

"...I was hoping you'd ask."

"You sure?" There's your hand again, this time in his hair, nails just grazing his scalp, sending pleasant tingles down his back. You're close enough now that he can smell the subtle scent of your shampoo, familiar and inviting. It sets him at ease.

"Please, stay."

“Then, leave your work for the evening. What do you say?”

His desk lamp casts a warm, orange glow over the bedroom, casting heavy, almost architectural shadow. Your features are augmented, posed in sharp relief against the muted colors of his bedroom. Merely a few seconds have passed since you asked him a question, but he already feels like he’s taken too long to answer.

“...I shall put my things away.”

You hum and give him a moment to straighten his desk, lingering just outside of his personal space. Even in the privacy of his bedroom Lucifer is impeccably dressed. You follow the crease of his pant leg down to his polished loafers. He makes every move with purpose and each thing has its place. It's only the slight tremble of his hands that gives away his fatigue.

You think back on that afternoon. After Diavolo had left, you’d seen Lucifer in your mind’s eye - the hard line of his clenched jaw softened into an expression of relief, into an expression you covet.

You breathe out slowly, trying to hide your anticipation, and walk across the floor to his bed. The covers are smooth and unwrinkled, perfectly pleated as he feels they should be. You grab one of his pillows and make sure he's watching when you place it at your feet.

He feels the weight of your stare but looking at everything still left to do makes his head hurt. He has so much to do tomorrow and so much he should have done yesterday.

Your voice cuts through the fog. “Lucifer - come here.”

He quickly places his pen in its holder, almost knocking over the inkwell, before crossing the room to meet you at the foot of his bed.

He kneels of his own volition. Your pleased smile makes his heart pound.

“I didn’t even have to ask.” You muse fondly

“How…” he swallows, “How would you like me?”

You brush your thumb against his cheek. His eyelids flutter shut and he turns toward your open palm. “I think… just like this. This is where I want you tonight, on your knees.” His face heats up but he manages to meet your half-lidded gaze.

“I’ve noticed, you know?” You say, studying his face, tilting his jaw in your hand, “You’ve had a lot of things forced on you lately. I’ve offered my help yet you refuse it. Why?

He tenses. “I am merely reaping the consequences of my own actions. I refuse to burden you with my responsibilities.”

Your brow furrows. “Okay but, what about those pictures? He knows they make you uncomfortable and I don’t like that he takes them anyway.” Your hand is soft against his cheek. “I won’t take action if you don’t want me to, I promise. I just want to understand, Lucifer. Saying you don’t know why is also acceptable.”

Lucifer eases into the comforting weight of his position beneath you. His posture sags, just slightly, and the sharpness of his brow softens. There's a faint tint of red to his cheeks. He tentatively leans forward, not meeting your eyes.

“I… I am not fond of them, but… they’re just pictures. I shouldn’t be so bothered. The less bothered I am, the less often my picture will be taken.”

“Why shouldn’t you be bothered?”

“It’s an innocuous thing. Something as small as getting one's picture taken isn’t worth getting upset over.”

“I disagree. You’re bothered by them, and it isn’t difficult to respect that by not taking your picture.”

“There are better things you could spend your time on.” He tries again, weakly, hoping it doesn’t stick.

“That’s up to me, isn’t it? Don’t I get to decide what to spend my time on?”

“Yes, of course.”

“If I can't stop him then I want to get rid of them for you.”

“I…” He looks down at his hands, “I will think about it.”

“I’ll ask you again tomorrow morning, then. I promise I’ll drop it after that.” He nods and sinks further, wanting nowhere else to be. "Don’t worry, I won't let anyone else see you like this.”

"Never?" He’s keen for one last bit of reassurance.

"Never."

You lean down to kiss him. It's lingering, gentle, and sweet. He follows when you pull back, so you kiss him again, greedy this time, to sait him, but it's not enough, never enough, and you tell him so between kisses.

"Please..." he breathes, when you finally part.

"Please what, darling?" A shudder runs through him.

"May I service you, may I  please  you, in a way that only I can?"

"And how do you want to do that?"

"I..." he swallows thickly, “I want to do whatever you ask of me."

Your gentle laugh cements him on his knees. "How could I ever say no to that?" The affection in your voice makes him dizzy. A hand slips down his jaw to direct his attention. "If at any point you object to what I ask, you will tell me - that's your first order of the night."

He nods in agreement. As with any magic, intention matters, and you want him on his knees willingly. The pact remains inactive; each time he follows an order is done of his own free will.

"Your second order..." you thumb his lower lip, "You look so good on your knees.. I want your mouth between my legs."

He swallows. "It would be my pleasure."

"Stoplight system like usual."

“Understood.”

You lean down to kiss him again. It’s heady and languid, desire bubbling just beneath your skin. When you pull back he is a picture of perfect obedience, kneeling with his hands in his lap.

You languidly place a leg over his shoulder and he kisses your knee, inner thigh, before grabbing the edge of your shorts. He doesn’t go any further, instead catching your eye. You hold him in anticipation, sizing him up, waiting for him to ask.

Finally he swallows. “...May I?”

You smile and lift your hips so he can slide them off, leaving you bare before him. He takes the time to fold them before leaning forward and kissing up your thighs, shifting forward so he can wrap his arms around your hips.

His eyes flicker upward when he takes a long, slow lick, savoring the way your breath hitches. He yearns for your approval.

“Mmm… that’s it,” You breathe, lost in a hazy moment of affection and power. Lucifer kneels before you because he wants to be here, because he chooses to be here.

He groans low in his throat and sinks his fingers into the meat of your hips, holding onto every little noise you make, tasting the salty, musky tang of your arousal. The scant stubble of his cheek rubs against the smooth texture of your inner thigh. He yearns for the way your whole body chases his mouth and rocks against his face, folds sticky and wet, groaning when you tug on his hair.

"You're so good with your tongue, fuck-" You can't hold his gaze, too lost in how it feels, throbbing while he leverages his entire body for your pleasure. He flicks his tongue just right, sliding it back and forth, only stopping to breathe, using his calloused fingers in the interim, tiny tight circles, watching how your head tilts back.

"Can't get enough of you Luci." your praise blooms in his chest and floods his body. He shudders, little sounds escaping his every exhale. 

You’re already close to the edge, but an image of him burns in your mind’s eye. 

“L-lucifer - stop.” His tight grasp on your hips is immediately gentle and tentative. He stills himself and settles back onto his heels, shoulders heaving, lips shiny.

“What’s wrong?” There's a plaintive edge to his voice, a delicious contrast with the mask of power he usually wears. It's difficult to ignore the ache between your legs.

You wrap a stray tendril of hair behind his ear. “Not yet… I want - I’ve been imagining this all day, you on your knees - I want to see it, wanna see you sweetheart. Touch yourself while you please me.”

He tenses. His mind starts to conjure an ineffable mess of images and sensations. He can't stand the way his muscles twist, the way his skin is mottled and stretched - a punishment of his own making. He deserved it after the fall. He should be better than this. He should have  been  better. His mind always questions what you'll think of him, what others will think of him. It's the antithesis of pride, shame on full display, yet he wants your eyes on him, he wants to believe in how you see him. He tries to rationalize. It doesn't matter, you've seen him before, you know him. Yet something in him screams and claws, wound tight, tight, tight.

His silence makes you pause, makes you wonder whether you should check on him, but then he breathes out slowly.

“Where would you like me to start?”

You consider him for a moment. “Take your vest off and unbutton your shirt. You may leave it on as long as it’s unbuttoned.”

His mouth is dry. He doesn’t make a show of removing his clothing but he does so dutifully and completely, staying on his knees at your feet. He folds his vest and sets it just out of reach, leaving his red button up hanging loosely from his shoulders. His face is flushed a delicate pink that travels all the way down to his chest.

“What-” he clears his throat, “What would you have me do next?”

“Take your trousers off. Remove your briefs too - and your socks.” His hands hover awkwardly over his waistband. His reluctance is obvious. 

You lean forward and kiss his temple before placing a gentle hand on his neck. Your voice is soft and warm in his ear. "Do you remember my first order? What’s your color?”

“...Yellow.”

"Good job. Do you want to leave them on?”

“I…" he exhales with great difficulty, shoulders tense, "I am not sure, I apologize.”

"Mm, what if you took off your briefs and then put your trousers back on?”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would I-”

“Would it make you feel better?” He doesn’t say anything and you can feel his cheek burn against your own. “Would it, Lucifer?”

He sighs, and the annoyance in his voice is tinged with something like relief. “Very well.”

You make a sound of agreement and then kiss his neck before drawing back to your full height.

“Briefs off, then. Put your trousers back on but leave your fly open and belt off.”

You give him privacy by turning around and adjusting the pillows behind you, waiting until you hear him still.

You’re met with the sight of his pink, flushed cheeks. The heavy meat of his chest is partly hidden by his open shirt. You follows the delicate trail of hair leading from his navel to the dark curls between his legs, just visible in his open trousers.

“Look at you -” you breathe, “ Fuck  - you look good.”

He’s caught between pride and shame. He’s dizzy, his heart is hammering in his chest, and he wants to tell you exactly what you’re doing to him. The throbbing between his legs is almost unbearable. He wants to beg. He wants to touch you, he wants your hands on him, but he can’t, he can’t. Everything is too tight, too tense, his mind is too  fast-

“Please - “ he whispers, before he can stop himself, “Tell me what to do. Give me an order.”

"What do you want, Lucifer? How do you want to feel good?”

"It does not matter what I want.”

Your gaze softens as you consider him, leaning down to kiss his temple. You speak low in his ear. "It always matters what you want. Answer me.” You kiss his neck and he whines a desperate little  "oh-"  shuddering as he inhales, delicate and wanting, before resting his forehead on your shoulder.

“I…” he licks his lips, “I want you to use me as you see fit.”

You kiss the shell of his ear. "You’re sweet and submissive just for me, aren’t you baby?” He nods, unable to voice it, unable to touch it, but he can acknowledge it and that’s good enough. “I want you back between my legs, but this time I want you to touch yourself while you please me. I want to hear you. What do you say?”

He whimpers. “Yes - I...” He pulls back from your shoulder and shifts down onto his knees between your open legs.

Your hand runs through a few strands of his hair. “Touch yourself for me, gently, slowly. Wanna see you feel it.”

One of his calloused hands disappears into his unbuttoned trousers. He sucks in a breath, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s it… slow circles.” You lick your lips and savor his soft keening. “I want to take my time with you tonight.”

He’s already a little breathless.

“Mm…” You start to play with yourself, getting off to the image in front of you. Lucifer on his knees, stroking his clit at your command, a beautiful, willing submissive.

“May I…?” His eyes dart to your folds, wet and glistening, just a few inches away from his mouth.

You ignore him. “How do you feel?”

“G-good, ah - I-” he keeps his eyes on your, groaning when you part your lips. His breath is hot against your.

“What do you want, Lucifer? Be specific.”

“May I please you while I - while I touch myself?” His face burns.

“Good man… go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He breathes. You shift your hips forward to meet his tongue. He groans when they connect, dipping his tongue inside of you, breathing harshly through his nose, mouth open wide, lips wet. He’s rocking his hips into his own hand, legs spread, sinking lower.

“That feel good, baby?” You whisper.

He moans what sounds like an affirmative.

“You’re stunning…” You run a hand through his hair, “So fucking perfect-" your chest constricts at the way he looks at you, up through his lashes, completely adoring. “You make me so…  fuck  I wanna come. Make me come?”

You can barely see his irises, his perfect hair tousled and thrown to the side. He pulls away, just for a second, just long enough to whisper a desperate  please. 

“Fffuck - Luci- baby…” You fall onto your back and let the pleasure wash over you. He knows just what you like best and his little noises spur you on.

Your whispered praises and directions flood his mind. He’s dripping onto his own hand, viscous fluid staining the inside of his trousers. He revels in how you writhe above him, in the heady taste and smell of your arousal - all because of him. He throbs and he wants this, he wants to feel your release, to hear more, more. He moans when you grab his hair, needy and wanton, suddenly muffled by your cunt as you starts to fuck his face.

“Keep - right there, right there-!” He does exactly as you’ve instructed, doubling down, licking your clit just right, and finally you tense, muscles tight, before an elastic  snap  washes over you, throbbing and lingering, a wet sweltering heat. He takes his time, just how you like, gently licking as you come down.

Your chest heaves and you drop your tight grip on his hair, instead running your fingers through it. Soft praises leave your mouth, syrupy sweet, too good for him, but he relishes in it, still touching himself on his knees.

There are a few minutes of blissful calm as you catch your breath, before sitting up to place a hand on his cheek. Your hazy expression meets his own. “So good at making me come, so good on your knees - thank you.” He leans into your hand and his flushed, red lips press into your skin.

“So gorgeous,” you whisper, “Still touching yourself… You need me baby?”

He nods into your leg, now completely doubled over. He shivers at your soft hands on the back of his neck. “When was the last time you made yourself feel good?”

“Weeks at least,” he murmurs, surprising himself with how easily he answers.

“Oh sweetheart…” he throbs at the sincere affection in your voice. “I want you to take some time for yourself, for some stress relief, even when I’m not there. Especially then.”

He starts to shake, now resting his weight against your calf, head bent between your thighs.

“Lucifer… let me look at you.”

He slowly raises his head with purpose. The plaintive, needy look in his eyes makes your heart stutter.

“Come here, Lucifer.” You pull him forward into a kiss, leading until you’re both standing. The blood rushes to his head and he sways a little, but you hold him steady. He shivers when you lean in close and kiss his neck, hands wandering from his shoulders back down to squeeze his ass.

“Mm… I want you on your back.” He does as he’s told, settling where you’ve arranged the pillows. You crawl over him, shadows falling across your body, stunning and ethereal above him.

You kiss his jugular and his breath hitches when you slide your tongue up his neck. He's achingly conscious of the hands on his hips and your breath in his ear.

“You need me?”

“Yes,” He whispers, arms wrapped around your back, feeling your skin flush against his.

“I love you like this. Love you all the time but…” he’s so wanting and open and  vulnerable , “I wanna find out just how wet you are, wanna make you feel incredible. You want that?” His pulse is racing.

He wraps his arms around your back, dragging his blunt nails up your spine. He breathes in deeply, nose pressed into your neck, nodding yes, yes.

You lean to the side and trail your hand down his belly, stopping at his waistband. You wait there for him.

He swallows, voice cracking. “Go ahead."

He lifts his hips and you pull his trousers down, dropping them off the side of the bed. Your hands settle on his thighs while your eyes wander.

He glistens. Sticky, viscous fluid string between his parted legs. His curls are damp and stick to his lips, clit heavy and swollen, flushed red. He’s taken by the way your breath catches, pushing him away from the edge of doubt. You did this to him. He trusted you to do this to him, to make him wet, to make him ache.

You catch his eyes as you straddle him, hovering just over his clit. He reaches for your hips.

“Above your head.” He reluctantly retracts, stretching his arms above to grasp onto the pillows. His chest arches forward, face flushed, and beads of sweat line his forehead. He’s quivering, dripping wet, but he obeys and withstands. The way you look at him makes the room fade into the background and muffles his every passing thought.

You grasp his waist and lower yourself, adjusting until you find it, until you brush his clit with your own  just right.

He gasps, eyes squeezing shut, and you groan. His clit is hard, brushing through your folds with every gentle thrust.

“Yes…” he sighs in relief, fists clenching into the fabric above him.

You've been sated by your first orgasm, able to focus on his pleasure. The pace you set is slow, feeling him slick against you. 

“I…”

“You want something, Luci?”

His chest is blotchy, mouth dry, panting. “More - I… faster, please-” You continue at a slow, steady pace.

“Missed this sight,” You whisper, lips kiss-bitten and full above him.

He aches to say every passing saccharine word, dripping with pride at how you make him feel, how you look, who you are. He feels a cool hand on his cheek. “I think I’ll let you simmer. How long can you hold off for me, I wonder?”

“As - as long as you desire,” he breathes.

“Then tell me when you’re close.” You speed up, just enough to make his head tilt back into the cushions. His biceps flex as he fights to stay still, to stay exactly as he’s been instructed.

You lean forward and starts fucking him faster, panting and reveling in the way he starts to writhe.

“I’m… ah - I’m getting close-” You hum in acknowledgement and keep going until you hear a familiar rise in the deep pitch of his voice, and feel the way his body tenses.

“There- I-!” You still.

“No-! No, fuck,  please- ”

“Not yet baby, not yet,” you pant in his ear, “Hold it back…” and smile at his trembling effort. “Focus on how it feels to be denied what you need so badly.”

You pull back and he groans at the translucent, sticky fluid that stretches between you. You sit on his thighs.

“Look at you… so needy and wet - you want my fingers, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes please-” his chest heaves as he starts to forget himself.

It's after the third edge that he really starts to beg. He is held in place by your gentle fingers, letting him whine, watching him finally let go. It’s not enough, not enough and then too much, until it only takes a few small circles to get him close, until he's whispering  please, please, please  under his breath, as you bring him to the edge and back again.

His perfectly pleated sheets are a mess and his legs are spread wide before you. He can’t think and it’s utter bliss. Your soft fingers tease him, pushing the hood of his clit up and over the head, back down again, and again, watching him twitch. He's torn between keeping his eyes shut and looking directly at the erotic sight of your hand jerking him off.

“That feel good? Answer me, Luci.”

“So - so fucking good, so - keep-!” You smile, savoring him like this. “I’m - I’m close, oh there - please there-” he begs, gasping, whining, but you pull back just when you feel him start to tense, leaving him just on the edge without anything to push him over.

“No, no, no I was - I was there, please keep going,  please-!”  He pitifully tries to hump your hand, wanting anything, any more friction, he was so close, so agonizingly close.

You drag your finger just over the tip of his clit and he sobs.

“What do you want, darling?”

“I want - I want to come, I need - please make me come, please,  please-”  His eyes are misty, his cheeks are red, and hair is a tousled mess. He can only feel and want and beg, overwhelmed by the feeling of your fingers still stroking his clit, but it's not enough, not enough. He wrenches his head to the side and covers his eyes with his forearm.

“That’s it Luci, let go - tell me..." He shivers and jolts at your fingers on his abdomen, tracing up his belly. “You need it, baby?”

“Yes,” he whimpers, “Yes, please, I need - I need it.”

You shift down his body, nails soothing over the tops of his thighs. Just as he removes his forearm you finally lick his clit. He gasps, before whining, high pitched and utterly debauched. He covers his mouth, embarrassment flooding his cheeks, but you rub your thumbs into his thighs.

“Wanna hear more of that,” you whisper, “Wanna make you come, since you asked so nicely, since you’re doing so well for me.”

He tilts his head back when you start licking his oversensitive clit. His thighs tremble.

Finally, finally you wrap your lips around him and suck. His clit is heavy and thick in your mouth, full and swollen.

“Yeesss, yes, yes…”

He sobs your name, feeling himself clench,  “- shit-!”  You suck hard and it takes all your strength to hold his hips against the bed. He thrashes, white knuckling the sheets. “Oh fuck - yes I’m - there, there, please -  please -!”

You keep going, just as promised, sucking and licking, exactly how he needs, for just as long as he needs. His voice gets higher and higher, breathy, tensing, toes cracking until all is still and he freezes, forehead touching the pillows behind him, neck delicately exposed, and he lets go.

“ Yesss  … ohhhh fffuck,  fuck yes , yes-!” He sobs with deep seated relief, euphoria flushing his body.

You want him to linger in it, to feel tension dissipate as the embers die down and warm his body. He gasps, writhing as his entire body jerks with intermittent aftershocks. You hold him there for as long as you can, sweet caresses of his clit, doing your best not to overstimulate him, to let him down gently.

As his body starts to relax you kiss his inner thighs and nuzzle into his skin, tracing your nails over his legs. His breathing slows as exhaustion matures into a hazy comforting wading pool, until the world spins in slow motion and he's finally still. You slowly slide up his body, taking him in. His half-lidded eyes follow you, face slack, lips curled into a barely there smile, genuine and gentle. The hand on his cheek is met warmly.

“Good job love,” you whisper, “So good for me. You okay?”

He licks his lips and leans up with just enough energy to meet you. You guide him back down and kiss him like he deserves, whispering little affirmations between them. It’s like he’s floating in a space of unreality and he lets himself linger, for just a bit, enjoying the way he can quietly give and receive a softness he’d forgotten he was capable of.

You gently run your hands over his skin and he does the same, tilting when you kiss his neck, sighing when you kiss just under his ear. You lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, until one of you starts to recognize the sound of a clock ticking. You nuzzle against his sweaty skin.

“Wanna get cleaned up? I don’t feel like a shower tonight but I’ll take one if you want.”

“Washcloth is fine,” he murmurs.

“Okay.” You kiss his temple and then reluctantly slide off the bed and head for the bathroom. You pee and clean yourself up a little bit before returning to him with a washcloth in hand.

He’s slowly unfolding another comforter, back in his discarded trousers and unbuttoned shirt.

You come up behind him and kiss his shoulder. “M’sorry, I forgot to put a towel down.” He shrugs, still a little out of it, eyes glazed over.

You let him finish before having him sit in front of you, gently wiping his face clean as he leans into your hand.

“I’ll get changed,” he murmurs, faded and wobbly. You give him his privacy in the bathroom and change into a pair of pajamas left in his room for nights like these. He returns wearing his own and immediately sinks into bed. You roll onto your back, beckoning him, and he settles into your side.

After a few moments of peaceful silence, Lucifer speaks. His voice is muffled against your skin.

“If you do decide to delete those pictures you’ll have to do it twice - once in his phone and once in his backup.”

“Mm. Why don’t I pick Leviathan’s brain - I want it to be permanent.”

“Might as well be if you’re going through the trouble.”

“It isn’t trouble.”

The tension in his body slowly dissipates, yielding the enormity of his weight.

“Then… I’ll let you take care of it."

[gachagon]

Oh wow! It's cool that you're doing drabbles. Good luck! As for my request: could I ask for an Isagi/Bachira fanfic with one of them proposing to the other after winning the World Cup? I think it would be really cute

This idea at first seemed really hard for me since I've never written proposal fics before, but the more I thought about it the more ideas I had. And soon I had way more words then planned on the document lol. This was very fun to write, and I had a lot of back and forth over who I thought would propose first. I originally was going to have Bachira propose because I thought it would be cute, but I realistically think Isagi would ask the question first now. Now the only question I have is who's last name would they pick?

anyways pls enjoy this fic! 2k words just for you lol

Words: 2k

Pairing: BachiSagi

Isagi Yoichi has won the World Cup on japanese soil, though the one thing on his mind during the after party is to see other half and talk with him. He scans the bar for Bachira, until he gets a short message from him, saying he has a surprise for him. Unbeknownst to Bachira, Isagi has his own present to give, one that he has been hiding for many years since they've known each other.

Isagi’s blood was on fire. He couldn’t quite get a grasp on what he just did, though he was vaguely aware that he had scored at least. The game felt so long, and yet so short at the same time. Before he knew it, he was being lifted up high on the shoulders of his teammates. They were congratulating him, ruffling his hair, practically throwing him around in their excitement. Yet now that he was so high up off the ground, his eyes scanned the crowd of people in the stadium. They roved in search of one specific person until he saw a familiar gold gaze locked onto him, an ecstatic expression on Bachira’s face. 

It was then that everything came into clarity, all at once the roaring of the stadium, the announcer’s booming voices over the intercom, his teammates' praises of him. And with the noise came the sudden realization of what had actually just happened. 

Holy shit, we won…A grin spread across his face then and he joined in on the shouting. Isagi had played countless games before, had spent years in the Blue Lock program, and when he finally graduated and was picked to play in the Japanese National Team like he always dreamed, he had set his sights on witnessing this moment first hand. And at the age of 21, he had finally managed to do it. He had won the World Cup for Japan. And on Japanese soil, no doubt. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Drink’s practically crowded the table at the bar, in fact Isagi was certain that nobody had even ordered food. His team was so excited to start celebrating that they had carried him all the way there, or dragged him along by his arm to start the party.  

“Isagi, get over here, you gotta try this!” Raichi and a few of the others had seemingly ordered a large cacophony of drinks that Isagi couldn’t even begin to name. 

He shook his head, “No, no…Thanks, but I think I’ll stick to regular sake instead…” It was the only thing he was really used to and he didn’t want to be totally wasted on the night of his big win. 

“You guys are pigs, you know that…Just cause he won doesn’t mean you can trash the place…” Chigiri’s annoyed tone spoke from behind. He had a disgusted look on his face as he eyed the crowded tables full of forgotten drinks. 

“Ah, let ‘em be. This is a big day for everyone, they’re gonna drink themselves to sleep tonight.” Kunigami said with a lazy smile. 

“Don’t encourage them, Rensuke…” Chigiri sighed. 

“If they make too much of a mess, I’ll clean it up. I just hope the staff don’t get sick of us…” Kunigami eyed the poor bar attendants who had been busy making drinks for just about everyone in the team and their friends who had tagged along. It would be a busy night for all of them, certainly. 

Isagi also looked around, as he noticed that there was someone who had yet to show up to the party. 

“Hey…where’s Bachira?” Isagi asked. In truth, he had been looking for Bachira all night since they had corralled him into this bar, but he hadn’t seen him anywhere. For some reason, he was suspiciously absent from the party. Isagi felt a small pit form in his stomach, a sense of disappointment he wasn’t used to when it came to Bachira. 

“I texted him a while ago, but I don’t know if he ever responded.” Chigiri said.  

Isagi’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he immediately took it out. 

Monster: Hey! Come outside! On the balcony! 

Monster: I have a present! 

Isagi’s head shot up and he looked to where the bar’s balcony was. Outside, Bachira waved at him from the window with a smile on his face. “I’m going to the balcony. See you guys later! Oh, and please don’t put any more on my tab…I don’t think my wallet can take it anymore…” He quickly left the others to party without him, and slipped outside into the cool night air. 

Bachira grabbed Isagi’s arm and dragged him out of sight of the big balcony window. “Ah, hey Bachira, where are we going?” Isagi asked. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say hi to him, or hug him. 

“No time for questions, just keep moving! It’ll be totally worth it, I promise!” Bachira said as he continued to pull Isagi along. He followed close behind, smiling. 

Soon, Isagi found himself in a pretty familiar place. The lampposts and signs were a dead giveaway, but once they stood in front of the fenced in soccer field Isagi was certain of where they were. 

“Is this…Ichinan’s old field?” It looked a bit different after all those years, but the more he looked around, the more he was certain of it. 

“Yeah, but that’s not the surprise.” Bachira said. He turned Isagi around fully, and then pointed up. “That is.” 

Isagi was left speechless. Normally, the Ichinan field would sit directly behind his old school and he remembered how he would always have to rush to practice from one side of the building, to the other. Yet what greeted him now on the side of the building was a mural that was not there before, one that showed him in his jersey and a ball beneath his feet in the middle of play. It covered the entire side of the building, and was unmistakably a portrait of Isagi playing on the field. 

“I…This is…” He didn’t know what to really say. “This wasn’t done…today? Was it?” It couldn’t have been, such work would take a month at least. Bachira scoffed.

“Of course not. We started working on it a while back when you were in France.” Bachira answered. “We had to work quickly too! We wanted it to be done in time for the World Cup, you know, as a present for when you won.” 

Isagi choked out a laugh, as he felt tears brim his eyelashes. “And what if I had lost, huh?” 

“Eh, we’d come up with some reason. And making it to the World Cup is still a huge deal!” Bachira nudged him. 

“Who’s this ‘we’ you keep mentioning…?” Isagi couldn’t imagine Bachira painting it all by himself, though it wouldn’t have surprised him if Bachira tried anyways. He’s amazing like that…Isagi thought as he glanced at Bachira. 

“Me and Mom, obviously. She was really happy to do this, when I brought it up to her. This is her biggest mural yet, you know.” Bachira sighed. “I’m not that good at art, but I learn quick. See, I did the grass there beneath your feet!” 

“Oh really? What else did you paint…” Isagi and Bachira walked up to the mural, and the two spent a while as they went over all the small details. Bachira and Yu, his mother, had split most of the work pretty evenly. Bachira got to paint the grass, and the ball, and his mother spent time painting Isagi’s jersey and his cleats. 

Bachira was really proud to have done Isagi’s face. “Wow, it looks just like me.” Isagi said in a wondrous tone. 

“My mom kept having trouble with it, because she kind of hasn’t seen you in a while…” Bachira chuckled. “Great thing I’ve got such an amazing memory, huh? I couldn’t forget your face if I tried.” 

Isagi laughed alongside him, as he stared up at the mural. His gaze landed on Bachira’s again and they looked into each other's eyes for a moment. “This is incredible, Meguru.” Isagi said with a soft smile. “You’re incredible.” 

Bachira looked away just then, as he blushed in that familiar way that Isagi loved. “Geez, this is supposed to be a gift for you, you know…” Bachira said. 

Isagi laughed, “Yeah I know. Thank you…” Isagi felt an indescribable warmth fill his heart the more he continued to look into Bachira’s amber eyes, and soon he leaned towards Bachira and pressed his lips against his. They had shared many kisses before, in secret mostly so that there could be no scandal involving rivals on different teams. Though this kiss was sweeter somehow, and was different from the casual affection they had grown to show one another over the course of their relationship. 

Isagi placed his forehead against Bachira’s with a content smile on his face. “I love you.” Isagi had also said this many times before, but it also sounded sweeter than normally. 

Bachira threw his arms around Isagi’s neck in a tight hug, “I love you, too! I’m glad you liked your present, at least…for some reason I felt really nervous when we were planning it, but eventually I got the hang of it as you can see!” 

“Meguru.” 

“And let me tell you, learning to paint in like a month is no easy task, even for me. My mom had quite the work cut out for her when she handed me those brushes, but it all turned out perfectly in the end!” Bachira rambled on. 

“Meguru…” Isagi said again with a chuckle. He always does this when he’s happy…

“I’m thinking maybe I could even paint more murals in the future, of course when I’m on break. I can’t give up my soccer career to be an artist that’d just be ridiculous-” 

“Will you marry me, Bachira Meguru?” Isagi could perfectly see the moment when Bachira’s brain caught up to what he heard. His eyes widened as he looked at Isagi, who had that same content smile on his face. 

“What…?” 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you’ll have me, anyways.” Isagi shrugged as if it was the most normal response to anything. As if he hadn’t asked Bachira something absolutely insane. 

Bachira seemed to short circuit for a moment, before he began to speak again. “I…But we’ve only been dating for 3 years now!” He exclaimed. Isagi’s head tilted to the side, “Oh? Really? It seemed so much longer to me.” he said. “Besides, I’ve loved you for more than 3 years. You know that, right?” Isagi could recall exactly the moment he had fallen in love with Bachira Meguru. It hadn’t happened 3 paltry years ago, or even 5. He hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen for Bachira until he was ripped away from him during the Second Selection, all those years ago when they were all so new to Blue Lock. 

Bachira searched Isagi’s eyes, “But what about soccer! You’re going to give up playing or what? We can’t married so soon-” 

“That’s fine. I can wait.” Isagi said. “I’ll wait for as long as I have to. Even if it means waiting for you to win your own World Cup!” He laughed at Bachira’s shocked face. Bachira babbled as if trying to find some other excuse for why this couldn’t possibly happen. “We’ve spent so long trying to catch up to each other…I guess waiting isn’t normal for us, huh?” Isagi commented, and this finally made Bachira break out of his haze. 

“You would wait for me…? Really?” Bachira’s voice was so small then, tinged with a vulnerability that Isagi hadn’t heard before. 

“As long as it takes.” He answered. 

Bachira smiled, as tears beaded along his eyes. “Then yes, Yoichi. I will marry you! Maybe not…right now, though. In a year or two, perhaps. Or when I win my own World Cup…” 

Isagi smiled wider and kissed Bachira again, though he couldn’t fight off the pure joy that radiated throughout him in that moment. It was a fire that was hotter than the one he felt when he had one earlier that afternoon. Did I really win the World Cup just a few hours ago…? It felt like it had already happened a lifetime ago. 

The longer he pressed his lips to Bachira’s, the more he couldn’t believe today happened. In his eyes, he had achieved the impossible twice in an evening. 

[xangareplaced]

February 14, 2024

I’m trying to document this one for the books… because it was a memorable birthday to say the least 🤭

We can start off with the innocent stuff first. So woke up early to go to church since it was Ash Wednesday. Told her I’d be there and she was there too. I didn’t see her at mass cuz ofc we were fucking late. But I messaged her once mass was over so I could at least see her and give her a hug. Had to walk all the way across the parking lot but ugh I love her hugs. Asked her if she was doing anything today and she’s like no I’ll just be at home working on the yard. So I told her I’d drop by later to see her at her place. Gave her a few more hugs before I went back to the office to get the baptism paperwork signed for klang. Ugh I wanted to kiss her so bad in the parking lot. And she was so sweet too, she was like yelling happy birthday 🥺 made me happy.

So fast fwd went to Costco then home. Waited for the church to call me back and say the paperwork was done. Went and picked that up. Laid on the couch watching movies waiting for booboo to come over and snuggle. She caved and said she’d come right after work but then she left early too to go gym 😒 brother went to go and leave to chill with his coworker so I left to message key to tell her I was coming over.

I asked if she wanted food and she was like no I’m so mad rn. And sent me a screenshot of what her ex texted her about their car and some bs about how key’s a liar and now she won’t pay the car payments until June instead of March like she was supposed to.

So I told her to not reply and let it be. And then I’d be rushing to see her asap. I drove over and gave her a big hug. She broke down and started crying. I told her to let it all out but she was like no. I’m tired of feeling like this and always crying. So I scooted over on the couch to bring my leg up and just held her. I said come here and we were just in each others arms for a lil bit. Then we were watching this show in HBO I think it’s called Tokyo vice? On opposite ends of the couch yet again. But she was still upset so I decided to at least just keep my leg up and hold her. I would kiss her on her shoulder/back area and she would lean her head towards me. She was still emailing and texting coworkers since she took the day off. Then idk what came over me really. But I asked if I could have some uninterrupted time with her and if she could put down her phone.

I gave her a kiss on her cheek and said, you could use a distraction right about now and it’s my birthday… and BOOM. It’s like complete 180 and I could see the fire in her eyes. She was like you’re right.. it’s your birthday and started making out with me. At first it was all sideways, then I laid myself down and pulled her on top of me. Made out some more, stuck my tongue in there and ooh she was so aroused lol. I could feel the heat swelling between her legs. My hands always wandering. I’d give her pecks in between just to tease. And she’s be like what? Is this okay? Almost seemingly self conscious. And I was like no, I’ve just been wanting this for like 3 weeks now. And she’s like oh?? I didn’t know. So we paused for a sec cuz I was like. Girl. How you not gonna know when I fucking drove in Friday night traffic to come see you only to find out halfway thru my drive that you had to go into work. And then instead of me turning around I still came to your work and hung out with you for HOURS just talking only to not be invited over to fuck. And she’s like lol I didn’t know. And so I didn’t want things to get weird so I’m like well now you know and went back to kissing her. And of course you already know we’re fucking dry humping the shit out of each other. So she’s worked up and I’m worked up. I finally get her to start working down my neck and onto my tits. UGH I’ve been wanting those sucked for so long. Im glad I wore a vneck lmao cuz she was struggling there to get to them. I asked if she wanted me to take it off or if she liked the challenge. She was like I’ll take the challenge. And sucked me so good. Fuck I’m getting wet just thinking about it again. We came back up and my wandering hands went up to one of her tits now. And so I was like “if I remember correctly, these were suuuper sensitive” as I rubbed right against her nipples. She shuddered a moan and agreed mhmm. So I asked if I could see them and she’s like whatever you want, it’s your birthday. So she pulled up her sports bra and FUCK. them titties be so nice. I immediately started sucking on one while groping the other. Went back and forth between the two but I def end up going for the anatomically right one (so my left in POV). Ugh I love hearing her moan.

Im starting to forget what happened next but I think we got interrupted by one of my phone calls so I had to answer. Then she was sitting and I went to sit on top of her to tell her I’m sorry. And she’s like don’t. It’s your birthday. So I start bouncing up and down on her and aggressively making out. And at one point I just grab her neck and face and tongue the shit outta her mouth. And then she pauses and stops. And she’s like mmmmmm. And I say what? What’s the mmmm 😏 about. She’s like nah nah it’s your birthday. And I’m like babe WHAT. what do you want? And she finally caved and says she wants head and loves getting head. So I aggressively kiss her back. But in my head I’m like fuuuuck. Idk if I can. Cuz like (and I end up telling her this too), I’ve never eaten anyone out before. Like I’m a full on pillow princess. And she’s like no it’s okay. And I’m like no I want to. Are YOU okay that I don’t know what I’m doing? And she’s like the way you be moving that tongue in my mouth makes it hard to believe that you’ve never done it before. So I finally convince her to take off her bottoms and I just dove right in tbh. Lol. I mean I had to foreplay a lil to make sure she was ready. Licked up her thighs, kissed the sides of her lips. But she was practically begging for me to eat her by then. She grabbed my head and pointed me directly towards her pussy. I tried not to go straight for her clit. But ended up anyways. Played with that and she squeal moaned. Then I dug my tongue deeper into her crevices. Fuck she was so wet. Landed my tongue in there for a min. Then went back to sucking her clit. Then I stuck a finger. Then two cuz I was like fuck I wanna make her cum. She was so tight for two but I wanted her to feel me. Did the sucking fingering thing for a bit and had to calm down cuz I was getting aroused too much. She pulled me up and just started making out with me again. She’s like I still can’t believe you’ve never done that before. And again things are getting blurry in my mind again but I think at this point she wanted to return the favor and told me to take my pants off. Which I happily obliged. She had me sitting at on the couch while she moved to the floor to eat me out while kneeling. Ugh I could’ve stayed like that for hours. I didn’t cum from it but give me a few hours and I sure as well might’ve. I wanted to kick it into high gear cuz she kept teasing me between her tongue and her fingers. So I ask come and sit on my face. Then she pouted and was like “I’m busy” hahaha so I poured back and I’m like no. Come sit on my face. You don’t gotta stop. I just want you to come sit on my face 😏 I didn’t win clearly but somehow we moved from her eating me out to us both being on the floor but her on the bottom again. So I held her arms up above her body and I just know she got a kick outta that. She fucking loved it being all dominated and shit. Lol. I also went down on her longer this time. And fuck she was screaming for it. She was gonna cum. And GYAT dayum I was drowning/suffocating in her pussy. I couldn’t stop cuz she was getting there so I just didn’t breathe and kept lapping at that spot in her pussy. Fuck. Came all over my face. Lol and then I wiped it all over her shirt cuz I couldn’t handle 🤣 also I don’t remember now if at which point if I took off my shirt and bra before or after this. But we kept humping and shit and my titties were bouncing all over her face. I think at one point too we realized she gave me a hickey on my right boob. But that’s ok. It’s so close to my nipple that you would basically have to see me in a bra to notice.

We had to end early tho cuz the shop was closing up and her cousin had to come home forreals this time. OMG did I even mention the halftime break before all the pussy licking because her cousin came home to have a smoke break? Lol so many fucking interruptions. But still a good night of fucking. A night of many firsts. And I can’t stop thinking about it. But I’m glad it happened. Even if it don’t happen again.

I think at the end before I told her I was gonna go home, we were just pecking at each other’s lips. And she’s like thanks for the distraction. And I told her thank you for my birthday present. And she smiled and kissed me more saying happy birthday. Eeeeep. I cannot. Best birthday ever.

I’ll see her tomorrow as I go back to the city and before she goes to work. We don’t have to have sex again, I’m hoping to just come over and cuddle. That’s it. Fingers crossed.

Until next time my Xanga ✌🏽

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 8,912 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, sexuality, anxiety, fear, nudity, violence, gore, death of a character, typical TWD A/N: Here we are! The very final part of this series and it's a long one. It's definitely bittersweet. 257 page document and almost 130,00 words. Thanks for sticking with Y/N and Daryl this whole time. Hope you like it. A/N: This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Y/N and Daryl head to the meeting place to try and put an end to Negan and The saviors.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl was staring over at you beside him in the bed. The sheet was swirled around your hips, allowing him to memorize the delicate angles of your shoulders blades and to trace the shadow of your spine down to the dimple in your lower back. You were sleeping soundly beside him somehow, probably just out of exhaustion. The two of you had practically torn the house apart last night tearing into one another feverishly with desire and scenes from it played on a loop in his head; your legs wrapped around his hips as he pressed your back into the wall, sweat beading up on both of you, your head thrown back and your eyes closed as you gasped in pleasure, completely letting go and surrounded only by sensations of him.

Daryl had pressed kisses and nipped at practically every inch of your soft skin, knowing some would leave faint bruises and reveling in the surprised noises his lips and teeth were eliciting from you. He could practically still feel your fingernails down his back, your lips crashing into his, your fingers in his hair. He could hear your laughter and see the fire in your eyes and blush in your cheeks when you’d both clattered into the nightstand as you tore each other’s clothes off and sent the lamp shattering on the floor. It had been a whirlwind of desire and passion and was borne of both of your fears and anxiety about what was coming. It was needy and full of love. It was heated and wild. Daryl had never experienced anything like it and neither had you... The feelings and sensations had been all-consuming and almost overwhelming. Unstoppable.

But afterwards, once you’d laid spent on the bed for a time, tangled with each other, you kissed him so softly and tenderly and with so much love he’d melted into warmth, and he’d returned it and told you how you were everything to him, how much he loved you, how he needed you to breathe, to live. And you’d returned every word. He was bewildered and still in disbelief that you felt the way you did about him. Your eyes drank him in and then you’d pulled him gently under a warm cascade of water and showered together, washing each other’s hair, caring for the bumps and bruises you’d inflicted on one another earlier in the lustful crescendo and physical venting of your frustration and worries, smoothing the rich lather over one another, refusing to part for a second. And this was delicate and tender. Your hands were light on each other. Your kisses were soft but still full of heat.

You’d collapsed against him in bed, completely content with his arms around you, but Daryl hadn’t been able to sleep a moment. Now it was almost time for him to wake you. It was nearly 3 am, and the plan was to meet Rosita at the gate at 3:30. You’d travel under cover of darkness to the place where Negan was to meet you that afternoon, allowing them both to conceal themselves in the trees on opposite sides of the field. And then you’d wait.

Daryl adjusted the sheet over himself as he rolled closer to you, needing to feel your skin against his. Both of his hands smoothed over your back and you felt so small and delicate beneath them. You stirred a little beneath his touch and he kissed your shoulder and swept your hair aside to kiss your neck. You let out a soft sigh and sleepy moan and Daryl wanted so much to stay hidden with you in his arms forever. Why the fuck did this goddamn world have to be the way it was? How was it that he’d only found something this good when everything else was utter shit? The constant shit coefficient, he thought to himself. Something Merle used to say.

“Do we have to wake up?” you breathed quietly, turning and curling into him, your fingers finding his bare chest and moving down his side to hold gently to him.

“Yeah. S’time,” he drawled. Your eyes flitted open and for a moment Daryl thought he saw a flash of fear in them, but the next moment it was gone.

“Okay,” you said.

The archer reached out and smoothed his fingers through your hair. Your hand covered his and you laced your fingers in between his.

“It’s almost done,” you said. But Daryl didn’t find that reassuring. You saw that he looked careworn and worried and pressed his hand over your heart so he could feel it beating. “Hey. Everything is going to be fine,” you said. “I love you.”

Daryl felt a swell of emotions, everything all mixed together at once. It was dizzying. “I love ya, too.” You leaned in and kissed him softly. The next moment you both rose and dressed and soon you were outside the gate with Rosita, on your way to the meeting place.

It was still almost pitch black when you arrived, except for the faintest glow of a lighter blue on the eastern horizon. The three of you walked the area in silence, shoulder to shoulder. There were a few walkers and you put them down like a well-oiled machine. You all picked the spots where Rosita and Daryl would post up with their scoped rifles. Daryl gave Rosita a boost so she could climb up into a large oak tree. She settled into the crook of two diverging branches and nodded, glancing down at you. “It’s good. I have a good view.” Her camouflage clothing made her nearly impossible to see against the leaves and bark.

You walked with Daryl across the open clearing and into the small copse of trees on the other side. After you’d found a suitable spot, he gave you a long look, frozen with his hand on the strap of his rifle.

“There’s still time,” he drawled. “Ya ain’t gotta do this. We can find some other way.”

You stepped close to him and rested your hand on his strong chest, feeling the beating of his heart beneath your fingers and the expansion of his lungs with each breath. “I do have to do this,” you said. You stared up into his blue eyes. “Everything is going to be okay,” you reassured him.

His eyes flickered between yours but your reassurance didn’t relieve the pit in his stomach. He cupped your face and kissed you, pouring everything into that kiss and soaking you up, breathing you in. “Alright. Let’s get this done.” He knew there was no talking you out of it.

You pulled your pistol and handed it over to him. “Just hold this for me for a little while,” you said. But you kept your knife in its sheath for now in case a stray walker wandered by. “Daryl Dixon. I love you. More than you know,” you said, taking one last long look at him.

His forehead was deeply lined with worry, but his voice was steady. “I love ya too.” And then he watched as you headed into the darkness to wait in the clearing while he took his place. _ _ _ _ _ _

The wait was agonizing. You were practically sick with strenuous anticipation but finally, after what had felt like an eternity, you heard a vehicle in the distance. You rose from your seat on the ground and stood in the small circle of depressed grass left where you’d waited. Your jeans felt damp with moisture from the morning dew that hadn’t yet evaporated and you squinted in the direction of the road. Eventually a tall, lean figure, immediately recognizable as Negan came into view. Despite the heat of the sun, he was wearing his characteristic leather jacket. You were surprised but relieved to see he was without Lucille. You began approaching him cautiously, aiming to meet him halfway, knowing that would be a good spot for both Daryl and Rosita’s fields of view.

You were about a third of the way there when he suddenly froze and spoke. “Y/N, is that a goddamn knife I see on your hip? What in the fucking hell did you think unarmed meant?” he growled. His voice was deepened in anger and booming across the open space to you.

You pulled it from the sheath and tossed it out away from you over your shoulder. “I needed something in case of walkers,” you said. You eyed him suspiciously but he seemed to relax. You noted that he had a pistol in a holster at his side.

You both resumed your approach but something over his shoulder caught your eye and every muscle in your body tensed. “I said come alone!” you spat at him. “I said no one else!” You started to back away but far from looking concerned, Negan simply laughed.

He whistled and Dwight came into view, but he was entirely different than when you’d last seen him in Alexandria, when he’d come to pledge to help you fight against The Saviors. He was now clothed in a filthy sweatshirt and sweatpants that looked like they could have been the very same ones Daryl had worn, and his face was covered in bruises. “This? Oh, this isn’t someone, Y/N. This is my new dog, Dwight.”

You gulped and your heart started to race. Oh, fuck. He knew. “What did—"

“Can we not lie to each other, Y/N?” he growled, interrupting you. “I fucking know that you know what he did. I FUCKING KNOW!” he roared at you, his usually handsome features distorting and his face burning red with anger. “Did you really think that I wouldn’t FUCKING figure out what sneaky little rat cunt was feeding information to Alexandria? How goddamn fucking stupid do you think I am?”

You were paralyzed and were praying that Rosita or Daryl would pull the goddamn trigger. They had to know something was wrong. Was Negan far enough into the field now that he wasn’t blocked by other trees?

“Get the FUCK DOWN and get the FUCK over here, dog!” Negan growled at Dwight. Dwight fell to his hands and knees, his head down, and he crawled the rest of the way to Negan. When Dwight reached his side, Negan glared down at him. “Now stand the fuck up right here, right next to me and keep your eyes on the goddamn ground.” His voice was dripping with contempt. Negan looked back up at you. You realized that Dwight standing next to him was, in all likelihood, blocking Daryl from taking a shot at Negan. “Are we doing this or what?” Negan said. “Come over here so I don’t have to fucking yell and you can tell me why in the hell I shouldn’t just wipe all three communities off the goddamn map.”

Somehow you steadied your nerves after seeing Dwight so changed and you walked the rest of the way toward him cautiously. Negan seemed to calm as you came closer and you caught him looking you up and down. “Lift your shirt up, Y/N,” he said.

“Fuck you,” you spat back at him.

He rolled his eyes. “I said lift it up, not take it off. There’ll be plenty of time for that later if you’re interested,” he said with a grin. “I want to see your waistband. Make sure you’re not hiding some cute little peashooter.”

You begrudgingly lifted your t-shirt up enough so Negan could see the waistband of your jeans. “Turn,” he said, moving his forefinger in a circle. You scoffed, but complied and turned around so he could see you weren’t hiding anything.

“Good,” he said as you came to rest back in your original position.

“I’m surprised you didn’t ask to frisk me,” you snarked at him. He let out a chuckle and that wide goddamn smile grew on his face as he looked at you.

“Holy shit. I do miss you, Y/N,” he said. “And not just for the great ass.” You were taking a breath about to open your mouth to say something snarky back when suddenly Negan pulled his pistol and shot Dwight right in the fucking head. You watched the blowback of blood splotch Negan’s face like it was in slow motion. The cloud of gunpowder drifted lazily on the heat of the afternoon air. Dwight’s body crumpled to the grass in a heap like a wet towel and you stood paralyzed, in shock, staring at the place where that living man had just been standing. Your hesitation from the shock of what the fuck you had just watched only lasted for a split second but it was long enough for Negan. Dwight’s body hadn’t even finished falling when Negan lunged forward and grabbed you, spinning you roughly and pulling you back against his body, one arm looped around your neck.

There was nothing you could do. He had you.

“Fool me once, shame on you,” he hissed into your ear. “Fool me twice…” His arm around you was tight. You could feel his tensed muscles straining as he pulled you back against him. But there was a sharp biting to the muzzle of his gun pressed into your back. “Now what did I fucking tell you, Y/N? I said no goddamn Daryl, didn’t I? And you just can’t obey me, can you? I know he’s here. There’s no way he’d let his little lovebug come out here on her own.” Negan suddenly roared and his deep voice was so soaked with bone-chilling anger it completely paralyzed you. “Get the FUCK out here now, Daryl! Or I’ll shoot her in the fucking heart!”

Sweat was dripping into Rosita’s eyes as she peered through her scope. “Shit. Fucking shit!” The only thing she could see was you in the crosshairs. There was no way she could take the shot without risking hitting you instead.

And Daryl’s view was no better. His stomach had plummeted into the fucking depths of hell. When Negan roared for him to come out, the archer tried to think fast. What the fuck were his options? None. He had none. Maybe he could bargain for you. He’d go with Negan as his prisoner if he just let you go. He had to try. He had to try something. He was nearly hyperventilating. Calm. He needed to be calm for you if he was going to get you out of this.

“I’m not fucking playing games, Daryl!” As he roared angrily, his arm tensed and tightened around your windpipe.

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and drew in as deep a breath as the paralysis in his diaphragm would allow. Then he shouldered his rifle and grabbed your pistol instead, stepping out from the copse of trees with it aimed in Negan’s direction.

Negan laughed into your ear and then you felt his teeth on it, biting. You tried to recoil from him but his arm held you tightly in place. It was terrifying how the man could go from roaring in anger to chuckling like he was having the time of his life with the flip of a switch. Daryl was still a way off, approaching with your pistol aimed. “Who’s your other friend?” Negan hissed into your ear. “The one over in the trees to the right.”

How the fuck could he know? How the fuck could he possibly know?

“I asked you a goddamn question, Y/N, and I fucking expect an answer.” Another squeeze on your windpipe.

“Why does it matter?” you wheezed out.

“Hmm. Good point. I’ve got everything I need right here,” Negan said. He pressed the gun into your back, eliciting a painful hiss of air through your teeth.

“How’d you know?” you asked, your hands gripping his strong arm in an attempt to lessen the pressure on your neck.

“Because I fucking know everything. You should have learned that by now.”

You were up on your tiptoes and the way he was pulling you back arched you into him, pressing your body against his. You were repulsed by the feeling of him against you. He laughed again, seeming to sense that you were raking your brain trying to figure out how he knew Daryl and Rosita were there. “That boy Eugene can build just about anything when given the proper motivation,” Negan said. His voice was silky and low. “When you said you wanted to meet, I tasked him with coming up with a way to make sure you really came alone. And you know what that son of a bitch came up with? Modified a camera to read thermal heat signatures. Now, I’m not even gonna pretend to understand how the fuck that works, but he did it. So, all I had to do was pull up, turn that shit on, and survey the meeting place. And with little Dwighty-boy under my thumb there was no rat to run off and warn you! And wouldn’t you know, when I fired that baby up there were three human-shaped heat signatures instead of just one. You must really think I’ve lost my touch if you thought I was going to take you on your word…” Your whirling mind was interrupted by soft footsteps in the grass nearby.

“Let her go,” Daryl growled. He was close enough now that Negan could talk to him without raising his voice. Your pistol was still aimed at Negan in Daryl’s hand but with the way Negan was holding you, you couldn’t imagine that Daryl could actually get a clean shot.

Negan laughed heartily. “That’s cute. You do know I have a gun pressed into your dearheart’s spine, right?” You felt the muzzle of the gun leave you for a moment as he showed it to Daryl, but a second later the bite of the steel was back. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little Mexican stand-off!” Negan said. “But there is one thing I have that you sure-as-fucking-shit don’t. Leverage.” Negan leaned down and you felt his face in your hair. He drew in a deep breath and let it out dramatically. “Mmm-mm-mm! Smells sweeter than I remembered.”

The muscles in Daryl’s jaw flinched as his teeth clenched. “If ya let her go, ya can take me instead. Hell, ya can kill me right now,” Daryl said.

“Daryl! No!” Your eyes went wide and round with fear. “Daryl—” But Negan’s arm tightened against your throat and you fell silent.

“I’ll put this gun down and ya can kill me right now,” Daryl said again. “Just let her go.”

Negan was smiling a self-satisfied smirk and chuckled again. “Oh, how I love having you both by the short and curlies,” he laughed. “Now, why the fuck would I want to make a trade like that? I can get out of here with Y/N and fucking kill you later. Besides, the idea of me having little Y/N here,” he pressed the gun to your head and his arm unwrapped from around your throat and you felt his hand running down your side to grip your hip. “Me having her would torture you in ways I can’t even imagine. That’s so much better than just, pfft, shooting you in the fucking face.”

“Fuck you,” you spat at Negan. Angry tears were burning in your eyes but you were determined not to let them spill out. “You can take me but I won’t give myself to you ever again. And I know that’s the one rule you’ll keep. Willing ass only, right?”

The gun bit into your back again and Negan’s fingers swept the hair off your neck and then gripped around your throat. His hand almost reached all the way around your neck. “Oh, give it time, doll… The things I have in mind for you, you’ll be begging to be my wife again in no time, just to have some light, some sound, some warmth, something to eat besides tinned cat food. There’s something called learned helplessness. You ever heard of it, Daryl?” Negan’s voice was casual now, like he was having a friendly conversation over a beer. “These psychology researchers would deliver a tone before shocking rats in a cage. At first, when the rats learned that the shock came after the tone they’d try to escape as soon as the sound played. They’d scramble and run, looking for a way out.” Negan’s fingers drifted down from your throat and swept to your collarbone. “But eventually, when they realized they couldn’t escape, when the tone came, the rats would just freeze. They’d just wait for what was coming. They’d learned they couldn’t escape and they accepted it.”

Daryl’s hand started to shake a little with rage. If looks could kill Negan would have been dead ten times over. “I ain’t lettin’ ya take her. And ya won’t hurt her,” he growled.

“Now, why the fuck would you think that?”

“Because you’re obsessed,” Daryl growled.

“Ever heard the phrase ‘If I can’t have her, no one can?’” Negan’s tone was dark and for the first time you truly realized he might kill you. Your stomach turned. This was so fucking stupid. How had you been so fucking stupid? You were blinded by your desire to save lives, to protect the people you cared about, and to just get this whole fucking mess over with. “This is me. I’m Negan. If it ever comes down to me or someone else, even Y/N here, I will be the one to fucking walk away.”

“Daryl—Daryl, look at me,” you said. The archer’s narrowed blue eyes met yours. “Just shoot. Just shoot. You have to end this. It’s okay... Just shoot,” you said. “You can—you can shoot him through me,” your voice broke as you urged the words to fall from your tongue.

“Wow,” Negan exclaimed. “Holy fucking shit! That is some goddamn insane shit you just said, Y/N! Fuck me! No wonder I like you so much. That takes some massive gonads! Can you feel my cock getting hard?” he asked, pressing his pelvis into you. “Goddamn…” He let out a low whistle and looked up at Daryl, still laughing. “Oh, you can’t do that though… Can you, Daryl? Kill the love of your fucking sad, pathetic, little hillbilly life just to get the Big Bad Wolf?” Negan laughed into your ear again and you squeezed your eyes closed as you felt his breath on your neck. He pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below your earlobe, knowing this must be killing Daryl to watch, and the stubble on his face was rough against your skin. “He can’t do that to you, baby. What the hell were you thinking spouting out that—”

But Negan never finished his sentence.

Daryl couldn’t explain it but despite the rolling boil of rage in his chest, or maybe because of it, time seemed to slow down in front of him and his hand suddenly had never felt steadier. He saw Negan as a target on the other end of the sight on the barrel of the gun and knew in his core that if he pulled the trigger at that exact moment that the bullet would find the intended target. And he squeezed off a round and watched through the hazy cloud of powder smoke as the bullet buried into Negan’s head.

What he hadn’t expected was the sound of a second shot.

It took him a moment to understand just what had happened. Had Rosita fired too? But as Negan’s now lifeless body crumpled beside Dwight’s, you fell too. Daryl expected you to bounce back up, to rush away toward him, but when you fell you just were lying there still on the soft grass.

Then he was a blur of movement and was beside you instantly on his knees. “Y/N? Y/N!” Your eyes were shut. Daryl’s hands immediately lifted you to cradle you against him, trying to rouse you, and that’s when his hand came away warm and wet and crimson from your back. He stared at it in a cruel realization. When he’d shot Negan, perhaps as some reflex on dying, Negan had squeezed the trigger of his gun and a shot had gone into your back.

Rosita was tearing across the field as fast as she could, her lungs on fire, and when she arrived beside Daryl on the ground she looked down in horror at your still body. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” she gasped. “Daryl—”

But her presence and voice seemed to snap him back to action. “Go get Negan’s vehicle. It’s closer. Go!” he roared. She pushed Negan’s corpse over and found the keys in his pocket before running as fast as she could to the waiting Jeep.

Daryl was still trying to rouse you. “Y/N! Y/N, open your eyes! Y/N, open your eyes dammit!” he roared. “Look at me! Y/N!” But your head simply lolled a little as he jostled you. He hesitated only one more second before pressing his fingers to your neck. Pulse. You had a pulse. He let out a rush of air, or maybe it was ripped from his lungs. “I’m not lettin’ ya die, dammit! Ya ain’t—ya ain’t dyin’ on me! I need ya!” He tore his shirt off. He lifted you enough to see the blood soaking the back of your shirt and dripping onto the grass beneath you and he pressed the bundled fabric of his clothing as hard as he could to the spot that seemed to be the origin of the crimson river.

The roar of an engine behind him pulled his eyes from your paling face and Rosita came roaring into view in the Jeep, which slid on the grass a little as she stomped on the brake pedal. Daryl stood, lifting you in his arms like you weighed nothing and Rosita hopped out to pull the back door open. The archer slid inside. Rosita rushed to grab the guns from near Dwight and Negan’s bodies and threw herself back into the Jeep, slamming it into gear and turning in the direction of Hilltop, her foot to the floor.

Daryl could feel your blood soaking through his shirt. Every passing moment his terror grew and you showed no signs of stirring. He cupped your face with his free hand, wincing as his fingers left smears of your own blood wherever he touched you. He huddled forward and pressed his forehead lightly to yours and Rosita could tell he was talking to you, whispering, but she couldn’t make out the words. Her stomach lurched every time she glanced in the rearview mirror.

She pressed her foot to the floor and the Jeep leaped over the pavement, but still she willed it to go faster…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl sat slumped over, his head in his hands, frozen. He vaguely registered a door opening somewhere behind him and he straightened up enough that he caught sight of his hands and saw the dried blood all over them. In some spots it was thick and flaking off while in other places it filled all the lines of his palms like someone had purposely painted it there, a red wash over his skin. He stared down at his hands, his vision going in and out, blurring and then sharpening, blurring and then sharpening…

The door opening had been Rosita entering the medical trailer. She hesitantly made her way over to Daryl and lightly touched his shoulder. He flinched, startled, and turned to look up at her with a dazed and desperate expression. She gulped and gave him a sympathetic look, her brow drawing downward over her eyes, but he didn’t seem to really be registering anything. He looked completely unlike himself. She pressed a damp cloth into his hands and he mechanically began rubbing away the dried blood on his skin, moving simply because she’d prodded him.

Her eyes drifted over to the bed Daryl was slumped beside and her throat constricted. It didn’t even look like you. Your skin was so ashen. Her stomach twisted. She should have stopped this—should have pushed back about the plan, but she’d been so blinded by her own hunger for revenge and this was where it had led. “Daryl—you should let the doctor give you something… some fluids, some medication—”

“No,” he croaked. The towel in his hands, now smeared with rusty red, fell to the floor carelessly.

Rosita gulped and rested her hand over the wrapping around the crook of her elbow absently. As if on cue, Dr. Carson appeared around the curtain divider. His eyes fell on you lying on the bed first and then drifted over to Rosita again.

“She probably is going to need another transfusion soon,” he said softly.

Rosita nodded. She, luckily, was blood type O negative, the universal donor. “Anything she needs,” she agreed.

Daryl’s eyes lifted and fixed on the doctor. “Why ain’t she awake yet?”

“Her body went through a lot of trauma with the gunshot and then the surgery… that with the medication, the painkillers, anesthesia still wearing off it could take a while.”

Daryl slumped again and rubbed his hands over his face.

Rosita glanced at Dr. Carson. “Can I talk to you?” she tilted her head away from the curtain divider and he followed her around it to the other side. “Tell me,” she said. “How is she? Really?”

“She lost a lot of blood. The bullet hit her right scapula and shattered it but that also stopped it from going clear through. If that had happened, she probably wouldn’t have even made it here. I was able to get the biggest bullet fragments out and I had to put in some plates to stabilize the area. My best guess is that everything will be fine. She’ll wake up, and except for some residual pain in that shoulder and maybe a little reduced mobility, in all likelihood, she’ll be just fine after she’s completely healed.”

Rosita wanted to heave a sigh of relief but she knew there was a qualifier. “But you’re saying there’s a chance she won’t wake up, that she lost too much blood,” she said.

“Yes. There’s a chance,” he said. “You should prepare him for that if you can.”

She shook her head. “There’s no preparing anyone for that,” Rosita said. “How long until we know?”

“If she doesn’t wake up in the next day or so I’ll start getting concerned,” he said quietly. “But all her vitals are trending in the right direction.”

“A day. Alright. Thanks,” she said. Dr. Carson breezed away and Rosita stepped around the curtain again. This time Daryl was right at the side of the bed and he had your left hand pressed between his, his eyes closed. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was praying.

Rosita pulled up a chair and set it slightly back from the bed you were in, feeling like she needed to be there but also needed to give Daryl some space with you. After everything their family had been through, all the people they’d lost, she’d never seen him like this. She was never a religious person, especially after the apocalypse, but at that moment, looking at how Daryl was with you, she sent a prayer into the ether.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl had finally collapsed on the edge of your bed out of pure exhaustion. His will had been strong to stay awake, to sit a vigil beside you, but his body eventually had other ideas and finally gave up.

But the slightest movement of your hand in his and he was sitting up stock straight, staring down at it and wondering if he was imagining things. His heart was hammering with renewed hope. There was a soft noise that fell from your lips and he knew he wasn’t imagining that. Daryl was instantly on his feet. “Doc!” he roared, and Dr. Carson was there in an instant. Daryl watched as a grin widened on the doctor’s face and he finally felt his body relax some.

Dr. Carson pulled a small penlight from his shirt pocket and clicked it on. You were moving your head a little on the pillow, but more than that, your left hand was squeezing onto Daryl’s and your grip was strong. “Y/N? Can you open your eyes?”

It seemed to take some effort but they fluttered open and Daryl gripped your hand in both of his and let out a gasp of relief.

Dr. Carson flicked the light over each eye and straightened up with a smile. “Normal pupillary response,” he said, grinning at Daryl. “How are you feeling?” the doctor prodded you.

You gulped and seemed to take stock of the moment. “Like hammered dog shit,” you rasped.

Dr. Carson and Rosita chuckled while Daryl let out a gruff laugh and squeezed your hand in his. He smoothed his fingers through your hair and you turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

“There you are. You’re here,” you said softly. Dr. Carson and Rosita, who was still hanging back, both stepped around the curtain divider to give you and Daryl a moment.

“Course ‘m here,” he drawled, still stroking your hair gently. “And so are you.”

Your eyes closed for a moment and you drew in a few deliberate breaths. “What—what happened? Negan—did he get away and—”

“He’s dead,” Daryl said. Your eyes snapped back over to his face. They were a bit round and unsure.

“What did you just say?” Your brain was a bit foggy. You wanted to be sure you had heard correctly.

“He’s gone. Dead. I—I shot him,” Daryl said. “With your gun.”

“You shot him,” you repeated.

“Mhm,” Daryl said, nudging his nose up in a nod at you.

You finally glanced over at your right side, the apparent source of the pain that seemed to be radiating in waves. Your arm was in a sling and fixed close to your body. “You shot him,” you said again. “What—what happened to me?” you asked. “Is my arm broken?”

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip anxiously for a moment. “When I—I shot Negan he squeezed off a round from that pistol he had. It went into your shoulder. Shattered your shoulder blade. Ya had to have surgery. Dr. Carson fixed ya up. Put some hardware in.”

You stared at him with your brow drawn slightly down but eventually nodded to show you understood. “So, I’m bionic now, is what you’re telling me.” There was a somewhat playful look in your eyes, but Daryl didn’t smile.

“Y/N—‘M sorry. S’my fault ya got shot,” Daryl said and you could hear the tension, the anguish in his voice. “Ya almost died. Ya coulda died…” Now his blue eyes turned downward and he couldn’t or wouldn’t look at you.

“How could you think this was your fault? If it was anyone’s fault besides Negan’s, it’s mine,” you said. You squeezed his hand as tightly as you could but you were feeling weaker by the second. “The whole plan was mine. And it was shaky at best but I—I didn’t care. I just thought I could end it. It’s not your fault. I told you to shoot him through me, remember?” Your voice failed and you leaned back into your pillow and closed your eyes. “I feel really tired…”

Daryl looked up at you again, guilt still swirling in his stomach. “You lost a lot of blood,” he drawled, his stomach twisting with fear again as he remembered how his shirt had soaked through with your blood and then it was running all over him and the back seat of the Jeep. “Just rest now, alright?”

But you forced your eyes open again and looked over at him. “What happened? With the rest of The Saviors?” Daryl could easily read the anxiety on your face but he shook his head.

“Rick and Michonne came back. With the scavengers. It’ll be over soon. Ya ain’t gotta worry,” he said, hoping to soothe your fears. “Everyone is safe back home. Some of The Saviors tried to get to Alexandria but those bombs you and Rosita wired up? Blew a bunch of ‘em to hell. Don’t worry about anything. Just rest.”

But you gulped and started to shift in your bed, grimacing with every movement but apparently determined. At first Daryl’s heart sank. It looked like you were moving away from him. But when there was as much space as you could create on the bed your eyes found his again before glancing at the created spot next to you, and he understood. “Come up here. Please,” you whispered. Your voice was a little raspy again. “I need you.” There were tears glistening in your eyes. It was settling in how narrow of an escape this was.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya,” Daryl said, worried about bumping your arm. The bed was narrow.

“Then get up here,” you said again. “Please.”

How could he deny you that? Daryl toed off his boots and very carefully settled in next to you on his side, facing you as you pressed back into your pillow. He rested his hand on your uninjured arm and studied your face in profile. Your eyelids were growing heavy again and each blink lasted longer and longer. “Daryl…”

God, his name leaving your lips was still the most wonderful thing he’d ever heard in his life. “Hmm?” he hummed, his finger drawing idle circles on your soft skin.

“I love you.”

Daryl’s breath caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get the words out without his voice breaking. He leaned up on his elbow and kissed you when you turned to look at him, gentle but yearning. “I love you,” he said quietly when he pulled back. “Now rest.”

And now, having heard those words and with the weight and warmth of him beside you, the familiar smell of leather and the outside air and smoke, you did.

_ _ _ _ _ _

A few days later You were sitting up in your bed with Rosita on one side and Daryl on the other. You fingered the cards on your lap and gave Daryl a long look. There was a pile of poker chips on the table beside you and you pushed them onto your bed and looked at Daryl again. “I think you’re bluffing,” you said. “All in.” You gave him a satisfied smirk. His blue eyes narrowed and stared back at you.

Rosita let out a scoff and threw her cards down. “I’m out. I fold,” she said, leaning back in her chair, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well?” you prompted Daryl. “Show ‘em.” You flipped your hand. “Two pair.”

Daryl let out a low growl and turned his over. “I got nothin’.” You laughed and grinned at him.

“I knew it!” You started to gather the chips up with your uninjured hand, piling them on the side table again, adding many more of Daryl’s to your stash.

“Considering how well she can apparently read you, it’s amazing it took the two of you so long to figure out you were crazy about each other,” Rosita pointed out.

Daryl shot a glare at her. “Ain’t quite the same,” he said.

The game was interrupted when Enid came around the curtain divider with a huge bouquet of tulips in her hands. “From Ms. Thompson,” she said, shuffling some things aside to make room for them.

You let out a small, uncomfortable groan. “Can you tell them to stop?” you asked Enid. “It’s getting embarrassing…” You trailed off glancing around at all the flowers and cards and other gifts covering every available surface.

The next second, as if on cue, Jesus stepped in with a loaf of some sort of bread in his hands eliciting another groan from you. “What the heck…” you trailed off. He laughed heartily.

“This one is from Mr. and Mrs. Devon. I think she said beet bread, but honestly I’m not really sure,” he said, setting it down and eyeing it uneasily.

The two of them, Enid and Jesus, were staring at you expectantly.

“…what?”

Enid grinned. “Are you in the mood for more visitors?” she asked. You gave her a questioning look.

“Uhh… I guess… as long as they aren’t bringing more strange vegetable loaves…”

“What about a lot more visitors?” Jesus prompted.

“What is—?” But you didn’t even finish your sentence before Aaron rounded the curtain, with Gracie in his arms. Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes immediately welled up with tears to see your dear friend. And he was actually smiling. “Aaron.” It was all you could get out. Daryl was looking at you fondly and got up from his place beside you to make room.

“I can’t even tell you, again, how mad I am at you for doing something so insane, but also how glad I am that you’re alive. And I wish I could hug you, just one giant bear hug, but I won’t,” he said, nodding at the sling on your arm. He adjusted Gracie in his arms and beamed at you, nodding. “It’s over,” he said.

You wiped away a tear that managed to leak onto your cheek. “It’s over.”

Aaron grabbed your hand in his and gave it a brief squeeze before moving down the side of your bed to stand by Daryl, who he did grab into a one-armed hug that made you laugh. The next thing you knew, the small area of the medical trailer you’d been occupying, already adorned with gifts and notes from the Hilltop residents who remembered you from your time there, was filling with… everyone. Daryl’s family, now your family, was filing in. Michonne, Sasha, Carl, Rick and Judith… all of them were there and whole, looking extremely relieved to see you awake and alert, but obviously also still worried about your condition. Maggie came in too. You glanced around at them, a little overwhelmed, and your eyes landed back on Daryl, who was standing at the end of your bed and had one corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. He turned to look at Rick.

“Hey—Didya get it?” Daryl drawled.

“Oh, right. Carl, take Judith for a minute,” he said, handing off the bouncy little girl to her older brother. You watched, puzzled, as Rick disappeared around the curtain for a moment and then reappeared with a bag in his hands.

“Normally, we would have wrapped it better for you,” Michonne said, “but, you know, the apocalypse and all,” she joked.

“I wish we could honestly say it’s from all of us, but it’s mainly from Daryl,” Aaron said.

Rick set the bag down on the bed and you gave Daryl a questioning look as you managed to use your one good hand to unfurl the scrunched brown paper top and reach inside. You froze when your hand closed on a familiar feeling bundle. Your eyes zipped back up to Daryl’s face and the little smile he’d been wearing grew into a knowing smile at the look on your face.

“Are you shitting me?” you asked. Aaron let out a hearty laugh and it warmed you to hear it. You hadn’t heard him laugh since Erik’s death. You pulled out a sealed bag of coffee beans and stared at it, before glancing back at Daryl. “Where in the hell—” You upended the bag and poured out about seven more bags of coffee beans. “I don’t—what—” You shook your head in disbelief and grinned at the archer. “I mentioned this to you once… like… I don’t even know how long ago…”

Daryl shrugged and hummed a noise of acknowledgment.

“Where in the hell did you find these?”

“Figured that asshole probably had a stash of ‘em in The Sanctuary,” he drawled. “Asked Rick to go look. I was right,” he drawled.

You shook your head as you stared at him, your heart brimming, completely full. “I feel a little bad about rubbing how bad you are at poker in your face now,” you joked, eliciting laughter all around.

Rosita stepped forward and gave you a look. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, okay, maybe I don’t…” you said. “I don’t—thank you,” you said, glancing around at everyone. “This is—I mean, it’s just coffee but… thank you. And I’m just glad to see all of you.”

Dr. Carson poked his head in. “Alright. That’s enough excitement for one day. Y/N still needs to rest. Everybody out.”

Aaron gave your good shoulder a gentle squeeze as he passed. “We’re staying a bit. So, we’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and Carol is on her way from The Kingdom.” You leaned back against your pillow and nodded, suddenly tired.

“Good. Tomorrow then.”

Everyone filed out except Daryl, who helped you repack the unexpected gift and clear away the remnants of your poker game. You sighed as he sank down in the chair at your bedside. “When can I get out of here?” you asked. “I want to sleep in a real bed with you.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up again and he nudged his nose up in a nod. “Couple more days.”

“I can’t believe you found that coffee,” you said.

“Should last ya a bit, right?”

“Yeah, probably, like, a whole week maybe,” you joked. Daryl let out an amused huff and smiled at you. He grabbed your hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your fingers.

“I wanna sleep in a real bed with ya too.”

“You can go sleep in a real bed without me,” you said. He’d been sleeping in the chair beside you since you’d arrived and you couldn’t imagine that it was at all comfortable.

“Nah. I couldn’t.” He leaned up and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back eagerly.

Epilogue

“Shoulder sore?” Daryl’s voice behind you followed by the feeling of his arms around you and then his body pressing into yours. He’d caught you out on the porch, watching the rain, rubbing your shoulder absently with the other hand.

You nodded. “Little bit. Probably from the storm.” You had a mug in your hand and there were curls of steam drifting up from the surface. Daryl peered over your shoulder into it. It was coffee, and he smiled. “But check this out,” you said, moving your injured arm so your elbow lifted slightly above the level of your shoulder.

“Progress,” he said. You were still working on getting full range of motion back. Dr. Carson said you may never be back 100%, he’d had to reconstruct so much after the destruction by the bullet, but you were determined. Daryl swept your hair aside and pressed his face into the crook of your neck and left a kiss on your skin, breathing in your smell. You were wearing one of his old flannel shirts and he pulled it down to reveal your bare shoulder, leaving a kiss there, too. You leaned back against him, content. He could see the very end of the surgical scar and his fingertip traced it before his lips found that too.

“You know what I just realized?”

“Hmm?”

“We both got shot in the right side. Dwight shot you, Negan shot Dwight, you shot Negan, Negan shot me. It’s like some fucked up connected cube of shooting.”

Daryl let out a huff and shook his head. “But we’re the only ones left standin’.”

You set your mug on the railing and turned into him, facing him now, your expression pensive, matching his. “What are you thinking?” you asked him.

He shook his head. “Honestly? Nothin’.” His hands went gently to your lower back. “You?”

“I’d like to go back to bed with you,” you said. “It’s storming. We don’t need to hunt in this.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ain’t gotta tell me twice,” he said. The next second he scooped you up in his strong arms and you laughed as he carried you back into the house and up the stairs, your mug forgotten outside. He set you gently down in bed, minding your shoulder, and then collapsed beside you, moving into you needily. His hands immediately slipped under your shirt and smoothed over your soft skin and you met his lips urgently with yours, tangling your legs with his.

Life since The Saviors was largely peaceful. There were still struggles. People needed things, the communities needed supplies… The walkers were still out there. But without the threat of Negan lurking somewhere in the shadows of your mind it felt like an entirely new world. It felt the way you had always felt when you were only with Daryl, but now it felt like it all the time. There was nothing else you could ask for. The two of you would have been content with each other and nothing else.

You knew there was likely to be another fight someday, but you also knew that the worst of your life was behind you. And Daryl had realized the same thing too. Neither of you could understand how in the middle of the fucking shitstorm of a zombie apocalypse, with the insanity of Negan, you had found each other and managed to make it through. It was something you talked with Maggie about a lot, and your heart ached that Glenn had been taken from her so cruelly, now knowing what they had because you had it yourself.

You were coming home after one such visit. Maggie and Jesus had made the trip and you all had gathered at Aaron’s, watching with delight as Gracie and baby Hershel cooed at each other. You found Daryl in the living room and gave him a curious look. He had an expectant expression on his face and you laughed and cocked an eyebrow at him. He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and ducked his head for a moment. “C’mon in here,” he said, his eyes flickering up to meet yours again.

“Okaaaay… you’re kind of freaking me out,” you said. You wandered over to him and his hands went to your hips reflexively. He seemed nervous but you couldn’t understand why. “What is going on?”

Daryl cleared his throat and then shoved a hand into his pocket. He opened his palm flat and you stared at what was sitting there. A delicate, silver ring. Your eyes shot back up to meet his. “I ain’t gonna get down on one knee or anything stupid,” he said, rubbing his free hand a little nervously over the back of his neck, “but, uhh, I want ya to be mine. Will ya?” He braved a glance back up at your face and caught the stunned expression melting away into a brilliantly happy smile that immediately sent his heart fluttering.

“Is that even a question? Daryl, I’m already yours,” you said.

“Well, I just… want to make it official,” he drawled. “If ya’ll have me.”

You gave him a somewhat teary smile and offered him your ring finger. He slipped it on. It was a perfect fit. “It’s official,” you said, grabbing him and sinking into a kiss. When you pulled back, you glanced down at the ring on your finger. “How’d you know what size? And where the hell did you find this?”

“I made it. Melted some shit down. Aaron helped me actually.”

Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You’re telling me Aaron knew about this and managed not to give it away? Wow… That’s actually shocking.”

“Anyway, the size… I measured your finger with a bit of string while ya were sleepin’,” he admitted. “Ya know, s’funny, ya sleep much deeper now.” You gave him a look. You hadn’t had a single nightmare since the end of the war.

“Yeah, I wonder why that might be,” you said sarcastically. No Negan, and Daryl always next to you? A recipe for a perfect night’s sleep.

The End.

[verdigrissoup]

For the WIP Guessing Game I'm doing, @spiritofcamelot wanted to know about my mysterious fic simply titled MMMMMM.

I hope you know I smiled like a gremlin when I got this ask.

In my phone I keep a lil document where I write down fanfic ideas late at night, and one day I apparently decided to write "M just starts stealing the m letters out of shit" and boom, a chaos fic was born. In a weird roundabout way, this fic somehow led to me coming up with the idea for my fey AU, though they're so far removed from each other now that it's hard to tell.

This one isn't on the priority list rn, but is definitely one I intend to finish in the future :) Have an excerpt:

Gareth Mallory’s background check was not as through as it should have been, but that was neither here nor there considering he had been successfully installed as the head of MI6 for six months now without problem or scandal. 

It was a good job for Mallory. It kept him busy, kept him entertained. It was important to keep Gareth Mallory entertained. Otherwise, he’d have to start making things interesting himself.

After seven months, Mallory was bored. Luckily for him, ideas often came from the most unexpected of places. 

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🚨Thurs 17 Dec ‘20🚨

No one will argue, this year has been the worst and I'm not really into that whole 'silver linings to bad things' bit, but... BUT! If the demise of live shows and rise of livestreams meant Zayn deciding to perform for us?! Well. I would be willing to reconsider my whole ass philosophy on life! Unfortunately, despite the excitement (or was it hysteria?) he inspired last night by getting all our hopes up, it might just be a music video? We'll see though. He definitely did register a new song, UNFXWITABLE (!), and then, and THEN: slid a single photo into his instagram story, a truly beautiful old baroque theater stage, fitted with live show speakers and a tantalizingly closed red curtain. The stage lights are on, the seats are empty... prepping for zomething?? It was discovered to be the St George Theater in Staten Island, very exciting, but today more video of them working on whatever they're working on surfaced (a snippet at the theater with a bit of an unknown song audible) that makes it seem more likely they're working on a music video than a livestream set up. Still, we can DREAM. At the very least we're getting a new song any minute now and at best-- Z3 and a video AND a liveztream?? (or prerecorded, that's FINE.) The pap pics the other day were him leaving a menswear boutique (sorry I said home, my bad, it was the usual 'front door to car' walk though) leading to speculation he was getting fitted for zomething zpecial... maybe we'll get to see it soon!

Likely on account of the added European show tickets going on sale today, Louis came online to check in, and also to laugh at old videos of himself, send larries into a tailspin, and best of all, weigh in on and shut down discourse left and right THANK YOU SIR! Louis is happy to walk us all through how not to get Live In London video taken down (“do it on a burner account haha?” tips from the master truly, no one would know better so listen to him); he denies having such an account himself (“maybe I should”) though unlike Liam (see below) HE doesn't go that extra step into obvious lie territory and say he's NEVER had one. On how he deals with comments about his height (which are up again these last few days due to a video circulating that uses math to conclude once again that he is in fact, as documented, 5'9”), “I rise above them,” he zings back, and in appreciation of someone who actually got the joke, “you're on my level,” DOUBLE PUNNING, BOOM but that's not all: he finishes off with the comment that finished ME off, “such a peculiar debate.” REALLY. Peculiar specifically, not like strange or weird or annoying you just... went right in for the Eroda copyrighted word huh. OKAY. Also: no, probably no collabs on LT2 (“doubt it”), yes he loves twitter “in doses, no better way to talk to you lot” (you mean even better than via t shirts?? sounds fake but okay), tells us he is “100% for sure” is gonna get the vaccine, and that “cucumber is shit” which isn't really a discourse we needed him to solve that I knew of but like, okay! Sorted! Antis seethed about him talking to larries and larry UAs and picking a video of him and H singing You and I to reply to, and probably cucumber enthusiasts and anti-vaxxers were unhappy too, but the rest of us? WINNING.

Liam is all over, first appearing in a fisherman's cap that nicely sets of his full and fluffy beard, then demonstrating answering questions for the Naughty List insta filter. He says he has never made a fake social media account, so I guess he's not lurking here reading these or I would guess that if I believed THAT for one second, he also says yes I have lied to my best friend so I'll just chose to believe he means us by 'best friend' since here he is, lying away. Dixie is absent from the recent promo, which is a blessing not just because they don't mesh particularly well but also because she's gotten even more terrible on main, moving from simply allying herself with racists to producing her own racist content- if we're lucky she'll simply fade away along with xmas and we can move on without any of that thank you very much. Liam is still a good BFF to us though: today he's offering himself up as prize in a raffle, you can enter to win a 'once in a lifetime VIP Experience in 2021 with Liam' for a low low £5, funds going to Stagehand's #ILoveLive campaign to support industry workers. And on the 17th day of christmas, my LP Advent Alarm woke me up with... Roman Kemp leading us through a weirdly peppy breathing exercise, backed with both soothing spa music and a sample of Liam's voice taken from the sleep story played over and over at near random intervals! I said it before and I'll say it again, they REALLY should have recorded all the material at once last month, but tbh I am enjoying the chaotic daily scramble to find something to put on the thing that's come of them being caught short maybe even more than I would normal content, it's getting downright experimental and I'm fully here for it. It's got that classic janky af for no reason 1D feel you know!

Rob Sheffield found better things to say about Watermelon Sugar, naming it his number one song of 2020 and calling it “a lost Stevie Nicks/ Stevie Wonder duet” plus gifting us a Harry quote: “that one we reworked a bunch of times, and it died a couple times, then it just kept coming back. We fully killed it a few times, but it kept coming back in. So I thought, There’s a reason it’s surviving.” And Chris Pine- who also says that he's all done shooting his part of Don't Worry Darling- said, “Harry Styles is an absolute delight. He's one of the most professional people I've ever met. Couldn't be kinder, more gracious, I mean, really, I was stunned by this kid. He's off-the-charts cool.”

And finally, as 2020 draws to a close we are being flooded with a barrage of our guys being declared winners of incredibly narrow categories (Harry on a list of 'groundbreaking magazine covers' for example), but I think the winner of MY list of 'Highly Specific Accolades' is sewn up for the year already; Heartbreak Weather is officially “the first [advertising] campaign to utilize weather-tracking technology to target content to users”! I'll definitely be keeping my eye out for competitors but beating that for reaching for a category will be TOUGH.

[ladyideal]

The Faceless Shadow: I

Word Count: 2073

Warnings: spoilers of s1 finale, mention of rape, mention of murder, Billy Butcher, language, alcohol

Summary: Five years later, you enjoy life after years of hardwork bringing NYC under one rule.

A/n: yeah... let's just yeah.

Five Years Later

$1.50

You frowned at the prices of the last stack of newspaper in front of the glass window. Billy Butcher's face smirking up at you from the front cover aggravated you. Sure it'd been some time since the Mallory incident, but you'd lost men to Lamplighter when Frenchie left his post. Begrudgingly, you threw in the needed money and snatched the old, wrinkly paper out of its casing.

Using people was what he enjoyed doing, and what he would continue doing in his quest for vengeance. Losing an associate was pitiful, but to one of your made men? There wasn't going to be a second chance. Zero wasn't happy, and you certainly were ticked off at the past still. Tucking the newspaper clip into your jacket, you headed back to the club. 

Ten fronts. All ranging from clubs to restaurants. Mostly legitimate, in terms of paying taxes. New York City was divided into Staten Island, Queens, Manhattan, Bronx, and Brooklyn. Zero headed Queens, and your third took over Staten Island. Although your main headquarters was situated in Brooklyn, you enjoyed the sights and the skyscrapers of Manhattan.

Including Vought Tower.

Vought. The head of supes and all things capitalism. The main reason why you kept all business on the very down low, despite the very club that even some of The Seven visited regularly. Blackmail: A very old fashioned, but reliable form of silence. 

Rounding a few corners, you slowed to a halt in front of the vip line. The DJ was in by now, and the lines outside grew by the minute as the sun dipped below the horizon. Two bouncers in black stood outside, flanking both sides of the entrance and refusing bribes for those wanting to enter early. The Vortex was a popular club, and business was booming. Noticing you, the two bouncers stepped aside. And with a polite nod, you entered the club, much to the dismay and protests from behind.

Music pulsate as lights from the dance floor shined and glittered within the dark. The DJ was in, and every body cheered. Rounded tables littered around the edges with plenty of people of all ages, drinking, grinding on one another, and flirting with the multitude of waitresses and sex workers. Smoking was prohibited within, but all was allowed on the outdoor spaces filled with recliners, a pool, and a jacuzzi. 

Ignoring the cat calls thrown your way from those relaxing in the lounges, you headed deeper within the nightclub. Taking a few turns into a less populated section and nodding again at the bouncers standing guard at the bottom of the VIP stairs, you headed up. At the landing, all eyes nervously turned to you.

And rightly so. 

Most knew you were high up in the family. You've made it that way for a reason. The less people knew, the better. Very few people knew who you truly were. With a quick wave, a smile, and a polite hello, you ducked onto another flight of stairs towards your office. 

"Oi, dick face, what are you looking at them for?" Came from behind. Last you knew before you closed the door, was the sound of a brawl. Sighing, you plopped into your office chair and-

"Boss, I've got the year's expenses on your desk." Grace spoke from the speakerphone, effectively shattering your peace. 

"Thanks Grace," You mumbled, pushing the stack of documents to the side. All you wanted was to grab a drink, keep an eye on the offshore accounts, and call it a night. Definitely didn't want a headache with the financial advisor on how to keep your fronts legit. Taxes could go fuck themselves, if you had a say in it. "I'll take a look at them later. Just log it in for next year's tax season."

"Oh and one more thing."

"Yeah?" You reached down into your mini fridge for a beer.

"Well- it's." A nervous pause. "There's someone on the line asking for you." Another pause. 

"Who is it?" You asked, popping the cap off and leaning back into your chair.

"Butcher."

There was a long pause of silence as you tumbled the name on your lips. It had been years since you last saw him, much less even contacted. Ever since the Mallory incident, you immediately cut ties with the former SAS Special Force. Two of your men were burned by Lamplighter, and you haven't quite forgiven him.

"No. Tell him I'm busy. I don't want to speak with him. He can go find help elsewhere."

"He insisted."

Unfurling the newspaper from within your jacket, you laid it out on your desk, frowning down at the same man that wanted to speak with you. The small picture of Butcher himself scowled up at you on the front page, making headlines for brutally murdering Vought's VP. You sighed.

"I'm sorry, I tried. But he's a-" A nervous chuckle. "He's a weasel."

You waved the apology away. "Put him through. We'll talk about this later."

An audible gulp. "He's on line 2 whenever you're ready."

Green light above Line 2 flashed steadily on your landline. Rather reluctantly, you leaned forward and plucked the landline phone up, already regretting giving Butcher your office number. Leaning back once more, you dimmed the lights down and closed your eyes. "We agreed to never contact again."

"Hello love." A familiar voice spoke loudly against the backdrop of New York traffic. 

"No. Whatever the hell you have planned, I don't want part of it. Things are finally looking up, and I'm not going to fuck up this chance. Vought's stocks are booming. I'm making money, don't have to worry constantly on anyone placing a hit on me. Zero is having the time of their life. I'm out of that mercenary life, found a different calling. "

An annoyed sigh. "How is Zero?"

"Married with their husband. Life is good," You shrugged. "If you've got nothing else to say, then I'm heading off to finish this fucking beer. Goodbye Butcher."

"Give me one fucking minute, love. I'll explain everything."

Got nothing to lose. "Forty five seconds and counting."

"Becca. I found Becca. Me wife has a son, Homelander's son. The cunt fucking raped my wife, fucking hid her away for so long. I was there. I saw her. Green lawn. White picket. I can find her with your help. You, mate, as a person of your skills." A pause. "Sitting behind a desk. Wasted."

"Look what Lamplighter did. Burned two of my men. Burned Mallory's grandchildren. Nothing to bring back home, not even their teeths," You hissed, slamming the beer onto the office table. Bubbles sloshed down the bottle, pooled, and dripped down onto the carpet. "It has always been about Becca with you. Becca this, Becca that. No, Butcher. Screwed up that one chance. I'm not doing it. You just don't care. You use your friends, then throw them to the side like fucking garbage when you're done."

"It'll be different this go. None of that "secrets and lies" bollocks. And that Mallory shit ain't gonna happen this time. I swear to God."

Drip. Drip.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hating every syllable the man on the other line breathed out. With a shake of your head, you sighed, reigning in your anger and pulling out a cabinet for paper towels. "Alright, motherfucker. What did you do? The cameras at the club picked you up."

"We just dusted a supe." Butcher smugly spoke, confidence oozing through the line. 

"Bullshit."

"Translucent." 

That cheeky bastard. "How the fuck did you do it?"

"Well. Big lump of C-4, packed right up his fudger. Boom," He was excited. "Boom. Claret everywhere. Fucking diabolical."

"But…?" You cut into his amazement. 

"He coughed up a solid lead. Spilled the beans in a big way. Now, we play this right, we could shake up the whole hornets' nest, bring down Seven and Vought at the same time. Y/N, you are the only one I can trust."

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of your name, dance so delicately on his tongue. It was as if the man was putting you on a pedestal. "Names are powerful, Butcher. You know this. However, since when have you ever trusted anybody?"

There was a sly pause on the other end. 

Fights were less often nowadays. Since the fall of the fifth family of New York, there was no need for the heightened anxiety to be on the lookout. Nowadays with your tight grip, it was just petty gangsters that riddle the streets, pretending to be big and bad. Some killed, robbed, or graffitied, all in the name of trying to impress you. No action, no thrilling action that needed your every second of attention. 

And if you were going to be honest with yourself, you missed the action, the absolute adrenaline pumping thrill of physically working towards a common goal. There was a camaraderie in that sense, where no place else could ever replicate, but neck deep in shit.

"Oh, fuck me," You mumbled in defeat. 

Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @mournthewicked @bluesclues-1234 @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @groovyfluxie @keijibum @also-fangirlinsweden @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @your-sparklywinnercollection @yakuzussian-2nd @supergeekfangirl @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations

Karl Urban: @fandomsfeelsandfamily @justa-traaash @yueci @writerdee1701 @hlabounty96 @lacychick

The Boys: @space-cowboy2227

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Tea Time #6

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

So these little Tea Times were written as little filler-memory chapters to place in between the main story line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Short and Sweet

↞♞♘↠

“Hey shorty have you finished signing off on these release forms?” Hange asked as she tapped into Levi’s office. Her question garnered crickets as he remained focused on his menial duties.

“Shortyyyy~?” She sang with a spring in her step as she entered and shut the large door. Levi paid as much attention to her as he did a fly perched upon his windowsill. He flipped over the last document and signed it.

“Captain short-stacks?” She prodded with an intricate skill at pressing his buttons.

“Fuck off shitty glasses.” He finally piped up aridly, his exhale ruffling the corners of his papers.

“I see you responded to the second one. I now endow you with this title-” Hange declared with a booming voice when a pen was thrown directly at her forehead. She barely caught it before impact and cackled at their childish antics.

“Oh come on, Levi. It’s a cute nickname for such a cutie patootie captain~” She cooed in an insanely sweet voice that made Levi feel like he was overdosing on rotten corn syrup.

“Coming from you, using me and cute in the same sentence is revolting. It would be a shame if I were to vomit on these documents.” He gagged in unamusement as he flicked his wrist which held the folder towards her. She gladly accepted it with a shit-eating grin.

“Well that wouldn’t hurt anyone other than yourself would it, shortkins?” She countered playfully. With the swiftness of a veteran scout, Hange poked Levi in the head with his pen and dodged out of range of any punches he could have thrown.

“Thanks Levi Shortyman, see you at breakfast!” She yelled over her shoulder as she skipped out of the room. Levi released his broiling irritation like a simmering kettle with a deep breath and attempted to rub the pet names out of his temple.  

After a strenuous day of training the new batch of cadets that ran from the crack of dawn to a little over an hour ago, you found yourself in the kitchen babysitting a kettle of hot water. Leaning against the counter, you rested your head in your hands as the gentle humming of the stove sang you a lullaby.

“There you are.” A low voice dragged you out of your temporary humid home. Turning your head, you lazily smiled at Levi and gave him a languid wave.

“Tired?” He asked rhetorically as he approached. You nodded once and picked your head up out of your palms.

“Who knew training 30 inexperienced teenagers would be this taxing.” You exhaled. He tutted his tongue and came to lean against the counter next to you, his lower back resting against the cool surface. He regarded you as what little vigor you had left drained out of your body and into the wiggling kettle. A part of him desired to uncross his arms, scoop up your deflated form, and let his shoulder support your sleeping head. Much to his frustration, not even your exchange of fresh confessions could not fully decimate his wall of, dare he admit, awkwardness.

Of course he was experienced in fleeting romances; physical indulgences that ended with snips of threads. But he was a virgin to this type of love. Every touch to you was precious and he felt himself overcalculating his motions.

“Now you know how tiresome it was to train your group of brats.” The jest within his tone warmed his otherwise impassed features.

“I guess everyone is a brat until they capture your heart, Levi.” You pouted slyly and gave his arm a weak poke.

“No one has but you, idiot.” The casual nature of his tone even surprised him with how fluidly it slipped out of his mouth. The strangeness of dewdrops on a newly bloomed petal curdled between the two of you. Thankfully the shrill whistling of the kettle overpowered any bumbling reply you could have generated.

“What kind are you making?” Levi cleared his throat as you doused the stove and moved the kettle off of the flame to cool.

“A batch of chamomile for Hange and I. English breakfast for Erwin and Mike-they still need the caffeine tonight-and of course earl gray for you.” You struggled to suppress a yawn as you recited the flavors. Levi felt his bones soften to jelly at your thoughtfulness.

“None of your special tea this evening.” He mused with disappointment in his tone. You admired the scrunch of his nose that you knew he was oblivious to.

“Nah, I ran out a few nights ago.” You hummed as you began laying out five cups on the counter.

“You didn’t grab the tea bags yet.” Levi stated. With a spry push-off, he strode over to one of the many cabinets that overhung the counter. You smiled in appreciation and turned back to the hot water.

A clanking followed by a dull thump brought your attention back to him. The scene unfolding next to you caused you to inhale sharply and inflate your cheeks with your impending laughter.

Tiptoes propelled him upward just short of firmly grasping the tea tins. Two out of the 3 tins had been acquired in the lower cabinets but the remaining one was perched on the highest one on the shelf. Levi bounced on his heels once in an attempt to stretch his spine longer but he gained only enough height to allow his fingers to brush the bottom of the wooden chamber.

You silently observed him struggle with guilty amusement. In candid moments like these he was just so… adorable . When he stretched again, the hem of his crisply ironed shirt rode up and the downy smooth skin of his hip peeked out. His raven locks bounced with his body and just barely shielded his deeply furrowed brow.

“Which one of those lanky ass trees put them up so high?” He grumbled under his breath.

You really tried to spare his dignity. You really did. But you couldn't keep away any longer as he wiggled upward.

As you padded over to the little ball of anger you comically frowned deeply to continue to quell your impending giggle. Honestly you couldn't blame him for not being able to reach. That cabinet was placed so annoyingly high that even you were only barely able to grasp its contents.

Levi immediately halted his movements when he noticed your presence at his side. His head swiveled sideways and met your gaze with a childish frustration.

Holy fuck don't laugh.

Your gentle nudge pushed Levi to the side with a stiffness in his form. He eyed you as nabbed the tea tin in a single hop.

“Shorty.” You teased with a fond smile that was devoid of anything but kitten-like affection. Leaning down, you pecked him on the lips just before your giggle broke free from its imprisonment. Then you snatched the tins and returned to your brewing station.

Levi remained camped out on the other side of the kitchen. He felt a bubbling warmth swarm his cheeks as his mind replayed your honeyed voice saying the nickname he could care less for.

But when you said it, so sweetly and lovely... walls he felt whipped.

"Aww-why does she not get sass for calling you shorty?" Hange whined from the doorway. Her sudden appearance only fueled your laughter as you placed the tea leaves in their respective cups and began showering them in a hot bath.

Levi scowled at the woman and brought a hand to rub his jawline, masquerading his rosy cheeks from her pointed view.

“Your fucking off time has not expired yet, Hange.” His warning was muffled as you handed your old squad leader her tea.

Levi learned an important lesson that day: he didn't mind being teased if it was by you.

Honorifics

↞♞♘↠

“I’ll make sure he reads through these, Armin.” You smiled sweetly at the boy and he nodded with a grin of his own. Levi’s eyes flitted from you to Armin in a wordless manifestation of ~is that all~ from his desk.

“Thank you, sir.” Armin saluted and politely slipped out of the door to Levi’s office. You sighed peacefully as silence fell between you two.

“I’ll admit there tends to be interesting plans that come out of that coconut hair.” Levi commented and placed the papers aside.

“Thank you for giving his ideas an extra look, Captain.” You said, masking your fledgling slyness with nonchalant innocence.

Levi suddenly felt like he was being waterboarded when that single word left your lips. His eyes narrowed as you rounded the corner of his desk and idly began flipping through Armin's plans.

"What did you just call me?" He pressed, feeling frozen as an alluring blend of bewilderment and desire swam through the ice of his surprise.

“What do you mean, sir?" You responded with a shrug. Your thumb preoccupied itself with the smoothness of the paper while your mind indulged itself in your fantasized musings.  

“That.” He emphasized his speech with a crispness of a seasoned officer.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, captain. Maybe you misheard me.” You continued with an added layer of heated sultriness. Levi's initial shock had dulled to a buzzing hum as the atmosphere between you switched from feigned innocence to dripping in lust.

You hadn’t addressed him with honorifics since you had been promoted to a squad leader. The double entendre and impish aura had his head swirling with an exhilarating dizziness of lust and vigor. Levi bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to keep yourself from seeming just as needy as he was beginning to feel.

And walls the way your eyelashes fluttered like a doe’s to the bashfulness of your posture was all so very- submissive. It excited Levi’s nerves and stirred his legs to twitch in anticipation of contact.

“Then why don’t you come over here and repeat yourself so I can hear you clearly.”

He pushed off the desk and swiveled in his chair to leave his lap exposed to you. You greeted his invitation with a smirk and painstakingly slowly made your way over to him. You grasped the arms of his chair and swung your legs over his, hovering over his lap for a moment to deprive him of his much desired contact. He almost let out a noise of frustration when you finally settled into him, smugly rocking your hips forward as you scooched into his chest.

“Can you hear me now, sir?” You cooed at the shell of his ear and gently nibbled on the soft flesh of his earlobe. He exhaled as your mouth moved southward.

Levi gulped. Your syrupy words and steamy breath began heating his insides from the nape of his neck. He felt himself twitch upward as your plush thighs once again rubbed against his straining erection.

A wave of satisfaction rushed through you when you felt how hard he was already. He wasn’t always very vocal in his desires as a lover. But with each passing day you became more intimate with what made him tick and could instantly tell he was beginning to enjoy this power play. He had been powerless over many things in his life, and in the most primal yet nurturing way, the thought of lording over you with pleasure drove him wild.

Levi felt like his body was screaming with this invigorating rush of arousal. It was a sensation you had given him countless times before. But the feeling of power that you were inflating into him blanketed him in a new rush of exhilaration that had butterflies flitting against his chest.

Quickly catching onto your plan to tease him, he was not going to let you get away with it. He was your captain , after all. He suddenly clasped your hips with a force that made you whimper. He adjusted you so that your hot core was pressed intoxicatingly close to the taught muscles of his thigh.

He regarded you, pupils dilated, as his hands forced you along the expanse of his thigh. Your hips instantly responded to his actions, rolling yourself against him as sparks began flying through you.

“Hmm. Is this what you wanted your captain to do?” Levi hummed lowly, bouncing his leg upward as he ground your hips harder onto him. Your lips detached from his neck as your head fell to his shoulder, the sweet friction making it hard to focus on anything else.

“I-dammit Levi I was the one who was supposed to seduce you.” You moaned breathily; a mixture of defeat and excitement as his movements further ignited your bundle of nerves.

“I’d say you were pretty successful.” Levi praised, leaning in to capture your wanton lips with his own. The kiss deepened to match the fervedity that glued you to one another. The sinfulness of the way your body gave into his guidance and the lingering awareness that the two of you had forgotten to lock the damn office door only fueled his rough touches.

“I still haven’t gotten an answer to my question, brat.” He reluctantly broke away, humming with a hungry gravel as he squeezed your ass with passionate intent.

When you didn’t answer, Levi tightened his hold and rocked his hip so fluidly that you felt like you were caught in a current of bliss. Both of you were drowning in the heavy petting; you relishing in the pleasurable friction that his muscular thigh brought your clothed core and him feeling your wetness through his trousers as he brought you teetering over the edge with just a flick of his leg and a roll of his hips.

Your plan had instantly backfired, and although you were the antithesis of complaining, it felt lewd to express your desires aloud. But by the way his eyes bore into yours, dripping with metallic lust and silently commanding you to tell him made you whimper and grind against him with even more desperation.

“Tell me.” Levi huskily instructed, immediately halting his flow and keeping you agonizingly still. Your legs were softly shaking at the loss of contact, hands balling the fabric at his shoulders.

Electric tendrils bounced freely in the space between you as you looked down at him, your chest heaving and panting.

Wordlessly your hand reached for his. Your intertwined palms moved up your torso, brushed over your breasts, and stopped at your neck. Levi felt your rapid pulse point under his thumb and his own heartbeat became erratic. His eyes widened at your bold move.

His grip lay loose, hesitant against the sensitive area. Hurting you, especially accidentally, was the last thing he wanted to do. As a child he saw how his mother was mistreated, cast aside and abused by hungry men. But the way your teeth toyed with your plush lips and your eagerness to retake your spot on his thigh caused blood to rush from his head down to his cock. You gave him a willing smirk. If you wanted him like this he would gladly give it to you.

“Make me cum.” Your voice oozed with silken demand while your neck craned to expose the smooth flesh to his palm.

And just like that, the electricity crackled.

Levi slammed you back down onto him and guided you at a heavenly pace while his other hand applied pressure to your neck. He almost came himself as he watched you unfold on the precipice of your ecstasy; writhing in pleasure under his control and using him to chase your orgasm beneath his grip.

You didn’t need to vocalize with words that you were close for Levi to know. The nectarous moans of his name and the erratic nature of your thrusts were sensory overload for him as he unbuttoned your pants.

In exchange for slowing his pace a bit, he slipped his free hand into your underwear. He reveled in your high-pitched gasp when his coarse fingertips made contact with your clit. The combined warmth and pressure from Levi's hands on opposite ends of your body catapulted you into your orgasm as you rutted against his thigh. Your vocal cords vibrated in sensuous moans against his constraint.

As you recovered from being perched on your high, he brushed his thumb lightly up your neck and let it rest along your cheek. He peered at you dazed in the afterglow of want and appreciation. Teasingly, he wiggled his fingers over your over-sensitive clit and chuckled in amusement when you squirmed in place. With a delicate sweep that would put a painter to shame, he drew his hand out of your pants. The velvety knot recoiled in your stomach when Levi brought his slick fingers to his lips and sighed in contentment.

Oh you were so ready to wipe that beautiful smirk off of his face and reclaim what you rightfully started.

Your arms drew along the expanse of his arms, sliding you down and out of his lap until your knees pressed onto the chilled wood floor. Levi’s eyes trailed yours as you slithered downward, argent orbs darkening when you palmed his straining crotch.

You wasted no time in unbuttoning his pants and releasing his cock from its confines. His eagar member was glossy with precum, revealing just how much you had riled him up. Your tongue started at the base, licking a hot streak languidly up his shaft and swirling your strokes when you reached the tip.

Levi released a heavy breath when your mouth took him fully. As your head bobbed along his length, not once did he drop his head back as the pleasure began to build. Through his panting, lip-toying, nostril flaring, and eventual groan of euphoria, the molten silver within his eyes occupied your gaze. You watched as his brow knitted and features contorted in rhapsody all while his commanding focus lay unwavered. The forge fire raging in them held your head to him and made you flush under their intensity as you swallowed and released him from your mouth.

“I wish I had called you captain earlier.” You winked up at him, a blissful half smile forming on his features.

“Be careful what you wish for.” He chuckled and leant you his hand to help you up off of the ground.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

[New draft]

I’m finally getting hitched Tying The Knot Official Words

Wedding Vows

by roy harper, putting the laughter in manslaughter since 1983

A couple years ago, you asked me why I loved you, and I said “I-I don’t know.” Except you weren’t really happy with that answer, I could tell, so I tried to put it into nicer words. I mean, I’ve loved a lot of people in my life, or at least I thought I did. Look how that turned out. And, you know, I kind of write them off when they leave me, or when I leave them, because obviously that means it couldn’t have been love in the first place. But then I know that’s a big fat fucking lie because I still remember all of them, still remember exactly how it felt to tumble head over heels. So maybe they reason they stayed with me forever, despite one of us leaving, has to do with them and not me? And I was about halfway through this awful explanation when Dick gave us a call, told us that dealer we were tracking had just put his dirty little hands in Bludhaven, so we went to go deal with that. 

Both of us were glad that conversation was over, and I’m pretty sure you forgot all about it. But I didn’t. I never forgot about it, and I realized I never really answered your question. So, here goes.

I mean, I thought I was so smart when you met me. Sure, I was at my absolute lowest. But I was 25 and reckless, and the heroin had me feeling like a real person for the first time, you know? A human being, with the kind of secrets a grown-up kept, telling the kind of lies grown-ups told. And I thought I loved the way grown-ups loved. Always on the move, always leaving. Because it was either leave or get left. And I thought that was love. And I thought that was a brilliant idea. I was all dark and tough and had this tragic backstory, and I thought I was fucking irresistible, but only for a night. I thought I was fucking irresistible for a night, and after that I wasn’t worth shit.  

Now, I’m looking back at 25 year old me and the only thought going through my head was, what an asshole. Just, everything about me was supremely dickish. But most of all, it was the way I treated relationships. Do you remember that time you, me, and Kori went to that carnival? And Kori won that strength competition and we got free cotton candy? And I just gorged myself on candy floss, man. I was worse that Wally used to be, back in the day. And then we went on all those carnival rides and I thought to myself, I’d be fine. I run around jumping off rooftops with grappling arrows, and I used to practice marital arts with Dick Grayson. Motion sickness doesn’t happen to me. And then like half an hour later I was puking my guts out and you stood there and laughed at me? That. That’s how I treated love. I gobbled up everything I could get, and it was way more than I could handle, and then I’d throw it all up and run away. 

I’m not 25 anymore, but it feels like I’m still running. Except I can’t get away with what I used to do, ‘cause Kori can hear my fucking heartbeat and you check my arms for track marks all the time and Dick bribed his way into being my second emergency contact after you. So I hide away in my room and sort of melt onto my sofa. But not the good melting, like the way I melt into your mouth like you snipped all my strings. The gross kind of melting where I’m curled up onto the couch and I just wanna hack all my hair off with a knife and it feels like my brain is leaking all over the sofa and I know you killed most of my old dealers but I wanna bring them back to life because just one more hit, I just need one more hit, and I wanna drink myself into a rage but you locked away all the alcohol with a bat-lock that even I can’t break. Figures. It’s funny. You’ll shoot yourself in the neck before you go to Bruce for anything, but if it’s for me, you’ll swallow your pride in a second and get whatever the hell you need. 

I guess I’m just scared. I’m scared that I’m imaginary. I’m scared I’ll always end up reinventing myself every day to spare other people the trouble of having to do that for me. That what I want everyone to see always takes precedent to who I really am. I’m scared that I’ve finally lost it, that I’m crazy, that I’ve finally gone mad. But I’m even more scared that I’m perfectly sane. Because if I’m sane, then what excuse do I have? What excuse do I have for treating people the way I do, like they’re problems that I have to solve or explain or else I’ll just fall behind everyone else.

And that’s where you come in. Fuck, Jay. That’s, that’s when you came in.

I tried to word vomit that last part to you one night when you thought I was drunk and I thought you were drunk but neither of us had had a drop, and we hid behind the curtain of alcohol to have a heart to heart. And you told me people don’t have to be solved or explained. We’re all just ghost stories, and maybe we should just try to stay that way. Because we spend our days doing wonderful things, horrible things, and sometimes there’s no reason behind it. Or, wait, fuck, no. There is a reason. But that reason’s too simple and too straightforward to really be satisfying, you know? And then we keep forgetting the lesson that we learned and re-mystifying these problems that we already solved because deep down we don’t actually want to figure out why we love each other but hurt each other and-

Fuck. Sorry, Jaybird. This was supposed to be a simple answer to a simple question.

I think. Um. No, I don’t think. I know. I know I love you because I have to.

There’s no “why” about it. Any more than there’s a reason why Kori loves the dew drops that gather in the morning grass, or why that old hag in the apartment next to us can’t keep a plant alive for the life of her. I mean, I guess there is a reason. There’s always a reason, there’s always a “why.” I don’t really understand it, though. And you know how much that bothers me, you gotta know how much I hate that. Maybe if I dug around in myself for a bit, really thought some stuff through, talked to some people I thought I was done talking to, I’d figure it out. I’d figure out where all this love comes from. What it’s for.

But then the question would be answered. Why do I love you? Boom, I’d have an explanation. The ghost story would be over. And there’s really no point in telling a ghost story that has an ending, all nice and neat and wrapped up in a little package.

Right now, I think I’m finally at a place where I can just let it be. It’s just you and me. Me sleeping ‘till noon, then waking up to see you in my kitchen, looking like a fucking greek god reincarnated, a smile on your face that I don’t think anyone else but me gets to see, flipping an omelette with the same ease and grace that you flip knives. Me in fiddling with a couple spare parts, adding on to my arrows, and you either sliding up behind me, wrapping your arms around my waist and whispering in my ear how good I look in this old tank top or you throwing a greasy rag at my face and laughing at how it messed up the bun I had my hair put up in and telling me to wash up, dinner’s in 10. The two of us crowding around a set of blueprints, scheming and figuring out how to best hurt this one greedy asshole and send him down the highway to hell. And you honestly know all my secrets, all the dark thoughts I had when I was doped up and hating the world and everyone in it. And I’m the only one who knows what really happened in that funky green goo you call a Lazarus Pit, I’m the only one who knows what you went through under the League. The fact that we don’t have any secrets gives me this feeling in my chest, it’s warm and golden and sorta like how you feel with Dick Grayson smiles at you, except this time I think I caused it.

I just hope to god I’m right when I say “I love you.”

‘Cause I do. Jason. I love you. I just, fuck. I like being around you. And for the first time in a long while, I don’t think I’m going anywhere.

Fuck. That was stupid. This barely even made sense anyway. 

[Are you sure you want to delete this document?]

[Document deleted]

[New draft]

Wedding Vows.

From Roy Harper. To Jason Todd. 

I was trying something new with this and I have no idea whether it worked or not but oh well here it is.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Protective

In which jeff is really protective over Y/N, because he has a crush on her

warnings: cursing

a/n: for the very lovely anon who requested a Jeff imagine. Thank you so much! I had to change it a little bit but the main thought behind it is still there.

I kinda got inspired by ‘nobody puts baby in the corner’ from @fanficimagery. I just had to think about that imagine when I read the request for this one and thats that. I hope you like it! Please tell me what you think.

word count: 1.5k

All she did was sit there and sort bills from the month prior. But that was all it took for Jeff to be mesmerized for an hour. Y/N had glasses sitting on her nose and some loose strands of hair framing her face while she concentrated on the pile of paper in her lap. Jeff couldn't help himself. She was beautiful. If he could he would ask her out right then and there, but sadly, there were a few factors that made this move harder than it already was. 

One: She was his friend’s assistant, which meant that if things would get awkward between them, Jeff couln’t avoid seeing her every day for a very long time. Though, that was something he would take the risk for. Just the sake of knowing if she felt the same was enough, honestly. But it was difficult.

Because Secondly: She was a tad younger than him. Which shouldn't bother anybody, honestly, considering that their friend group’s age ranged from pretty much toddler to grandpa. Both, mentally and physically. And there had been people dating in their group whose age gap was even bigger than Jeff and Y/N’s. She was legal to date too, so why was he so hesitant about it? 

Well, Jeff wanted to believe that he didn't know, but deep down he did. Sometimes his age made him insecure, but he wouldn't admit that. Not to himself and most certainly not to his friends. He wouldn't let any oh so reasonable argument ruin the feeling that filled him with warmth when he looked into her eyes, the tingle that made his breath hitch when their skin touched, or the smile he went to bed with, every night, because of the thought of her.

Yes, she was younger, but that just made her so much more adorable to him. All he wanted to do was to protect her, cuddle and hold her while enjoying her warmth and scent that crawled back into is nose now that he thought about it. Especially, now that Natalie seemed to have gained an sort of untouchable status: She wasn’t obliged to do any stupid shit David came up with, including paintballguns and make-out sessions. Y/N on the other hand, had not reached that level of appreciation from her boss just yet. She still had to go through all that. Which was, why Jeff found himself a lot closer to her more frequently. Ready to protect her face or body at any given time, just like he did right now.

Jeff sat on the floor across from her. He studied her features, relishing the silence that didn’t happen too often in Davids house. She never noticed when he looked at her. Or at least, she didn't show any signs of recognition, which just made it so much easier for Jeff. And on top of that, thrilling. Was she ever going to notice? Was she ever doing the same thing to him when he wasn't watching? 

She was. And Jeff never noticed, either. 

Screaming boomed from down the hall and soon david was chasing someone through his house, flamethrower in hand and a crazy laugh pulling on his face,making the whole scene even scarier. Y/N flinched, too focused on her work to look up and leave her neatly stacked papers out of sight.

‘’Ahhhhhh!’’ 

‘’Watch out!’’ David came running through the living room. In an Attempt to jump over Y/N and the papers, he tripped, knocking the stack over. Papers flying everywhere, he crashed to the floor right in front of her. Jeff had reacted pretty quickly, pushing Y/n to the side to protect her from any harm the flamethrower could have done and proceeding to hover over her frame for a couple more seconds.

‘’Dude!’’ Y/N breathed out and Jeff wasn't sure if her comment was directed towards him or her idiot of a boss. He ignored it and studied her face for any injuries, then maneuvering his body  towards David, who was lying on the floor, clutching his stomach from the laughter bursting out of him. 

‘’What the fuck, bro?!’’ But David didn't seem to mind. He was happy to have had somebody film this incident, he would post on his youtube channel later that week. Jeff turned his attention back to the woman on the floor. His hands were still wrapped around her shoulders and her stare was fixed on him for a solid minute. 

‘’Are you ok, doll?’’ He checked her body once again before looking back into her eyes.

‘’Yeah.. Yeah, thanks, I…’’ Y/N stopped for second scrunching her nose in the process and let her eyes wander around the room. ‘’Do you smell that?’’

With that, Jeff noticed the smell of fire. He didn't think much of it before, thinking it was still from the flamethrower that had now been shut off for everyone's safety. But Y/N was right, it smelled differently. Jeff looked around and found the source of the smell on the carpet less than a feet away from him and her. One of the paper had caught fire and was about to share its flames with the carpet beneath it.

‘’Woah!’’ Y/N scooted further back while Jeff lunged forward to put out the fire. He was quite fast and managed to sooth the situation with his foot and soon the fire was out.

‘’Bro, you always do this shit! You could’ve hurt Y/N! And look at the fucking mess you’ve made.’’ Jeff’s blood was boiling. He motioned to the scattered sheets of paper on the floor, Y/N had sorted a few seconds prior and his heart ached as he noticed the blank expression on her face. He had watched here organise these documents for hours and now she could start all over. 

Jeff clenched his fists approaching David who was just holding his camera and reviewing the footage Jason had recorded of him. He snached him on the collar of his shirt and pulled him forward, making David press out a screechy ‘woah’ by the outburst of his friend’s sudden anger. 

‘’Jeff calm down!’’ Somebody screamed, but Jeff didn't listen. His mind was set on David, who had been backing into a corner as soon as he caught sight of him.

‘’Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you! Have you even noticed, what just happened or can’t your brain take in more than one information at once?!’’

David’s eyes widened at his words but the anger in Jeff did not stop from rising, slowly reaching up and making his heart beat even faster. -how could someone be so inconsiderate?- The shaggy haired boy put up his hands in defense, closing his mouth after an attempt of a counter argument. He knew he had fucked up, and seeing that Jeff really cared about Y/n didn't ease David's mind in the slightest. He had never seen him this angry, not even when he was acting for the vlogs. 

‘’Yo, I’m sorry I fucked up, okay?’’ David could see the heat vanishing from Jeff’s face and dared to let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

Jeff shook his head letting go of David, who had relief rushing all over him. ‘’Just be more careful next time.’’ He went back to help Y/N, turning back to his friend one more time. ‘’I can’t hurt you, because that would cost too many people I love their job, but just know that you are fucking stupid.’’ 

David stood there dumbfounded as he watched Jeff help his assistant collect the papers and following her in the hallway, where they disappeared. Y/N had shot him an apologetic look while mouthing a ‘sorry’ before leaving the room. Jason and Natalie were speechless, too.

‘’Does Jeff have a crush on Y/N or something?’’, Natalie joked to lighten up the mood, but David was stiff, training his eyes on the corner his friends had just rounded. That had definitely been noted.

Jeff and Y/N had settled down on her bedroom floor, spreading out the papers that survived the incident and started sorting them once again. Y/N was quiet. Too upset with the previous happenings and her work, which had been ruined so mindlessly. Jeff watched again as he placed the last papers on the floor.He never wanted to agitate Y/N in any way.

‘’I’m sorry about that…’’ His head hung low as he let the guilt take over his features. Jeff didn't even bother to look up, too deep hung the guilt in his face. He had forgotten about the image he wanted to portray in her presence and scolded himself for the sudden outburst.

‘’It’s alright.’’ A small smile snugg on her lips. ‘’Honestly, I’m glad somebody finally told him…kinda’’

They both looked up, a hint of a smile on their faces. Jeff found himself getting lost in her eyes again. He loved being her friend. Though, he would prefer to be more than that, he would give her all the time she needed to realize how perfect they were for each other. But until then, he would just enjoy the time with her and cherish their every moment.

[shirorinyuaaru]

A Soldier’s Countenance

Chapter 4 - Of Synchronicity and Desire

You should have known laying your feelings on the table would lead to something deeper. A relationship hidden in the shadows, desire thinly cloaked behind pretense, Levi has to make a decision.

Maintain control or throw caution to the wind.

This chapter is 18+ for graphic content

If you want to know my inspo for this chapter, listen to Bang by Armchair Cynics.

Training Grounds 0630 Hours

Levi’s Squad was becoming suspicious of the dynamic change between you and the Captain. Since returning from your week of helping Hange with her strange experiments, it was almost as if you and Levi danced around each other. Regardless of the increased space between the two of you, Mikasa was especially aware of the gentle gazes you awarded each other when no one was watching. Furthermore, when you sparred with Captain Levi there was a level of synchronicity not previously present. Instead of the tense atmosphere they had witnessed the last time you made the - stupid - decision to challenge your raven-haired superior, there was an air of mutual respect and intense focus.

It was obvious you still had an edge when it came to hand-to-hand combat, but what could the others expect when you spent almost your every waking moment at Levi’s side? From training in the morning, attending to your duties as his assistant, and extra practice at night alongside Mikasa and Eren, you had excelled.

Today was no different than any other; it started with twenty laps around the green, 50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, an ungodly number of squats, and ODM gear practice. Once again you were ending with sparring. Krista had finally recovered from the injury you had unintentionally given her and had switched partners to Sasha to avoid another incident. That left you to either take on Mikasa, Eren, or Captain Levi if you were feeling especially daring.

For now, Levi had paired you with Mikasa. He looked to you both as excellent examples of proper technique, sometimes stopping the others to have them observe a specific set of moves that you had both previously executed. He could scarcely hide the pride that shone in his stormy eyes when he watched you hold your own regardless of who you were pitted against; it was difficult to keep the stony expression he wore on a day-to-day basis.

Mine. That’s mine, he would appreciate silently. Never once did he have to doubt your strength or worry of possible injuries on your behalf.

That didn’t mean you came out of sparring practice unscathed, however. It was common for you to show up to Levi’s office with his morning cup of tea, new bruises lining your arms and, once in a while, your cheek or jaw. This was especially true when you faced off against Mikasa, who never held back. You were rather gleeful whenever you got to face her, regardless of the injuries you were sure to receive - it just meant you were both pushing yourselves to the brink.

In your usual fashion, you utilized your legs more than your arms when taking on your onyx-haired colleague. You found it easier to land a blow if you kept a reasonable distance from her. Whenever you got close, she would manage to land a solid punch or worse - throw you over her shoulder and onto the ground. It was more difficult for her to grapple you if you went in for a well-placed kick due to the speed you moved at.

“I think you’re going easy on me, Mikasa.” You teased, eyeing her movements carefully.

Mikasa’s lip quirked up ever-so-slightly, mirth filling her expression. “When have I ever gone easy on you, Y/N?”

“I don’t know - the last time we sparred I distinctly remember winning.”

“So you admit that the only way you can win is if I go easy on you.”

“No, but it definitely wasn’t a very satisfying win. Too focused on Eren?” You teased.

She blushed slightly, her small smile turning into a frown. “What about you? Seems like you’re pretty keen on observing the Captain lately.”

You moved towards her with caution, considering your chances of landing a kick to her knees to knock her off balance, not responding.

“Oi Brats, less chatting more ass-kicking.” Levi barked at you, crossing his arms impatiently.

He received no response from you either. Nor did he hear one from your agile partner.

It seemed your good-natured teasing only stoked the fire building in Mikasa. Your sparring session ended with you on your ass, arm painfully twisted behind you. “Jesus, Mikasa, I yield,” you hissed, hyper-aware of the throbbing in your shoulder.

She released you with a satisfied smirk, stepping away. “Just so you know, I plan to win tomorrow too.”

“I expect nothing less,” you grumbled, rubbing your arm and soothing your damaged ego.

“Hit the showers, Brats. You look disgusting.” Levi remarked, dismissing you all with a wave. However, before you could join the others you felt a gentle tug on your wrist. “Wait.”

You quirked an eyebrow, turning to gaze into the slate-gray eyes you came to adore. “What is it, Captain?”

“Come with me. I need you to take some documents over to Erwin.”

You were distinctly aware of the observant eyes glancing at you as they made their way back to the barracks. “Right now? I’m pretty sure you don’t want me stepping into your office smelling like shit, Captain Levi. What if I dirty your floors again?”

“Oi, Cadets keep walking! Eyes forward!” Levi boomed, watching the other members of his squad scurry away at his demand. He made sure they were out of earshot before continuing.

“You can shower in my room.”

You practically choked on your own breath. “I’m sorry?”

“Dammit Y/N, you aren’t deaf. You can shower in my room.”

“What about a change of clothes?”

“We’re the same size. Wear something of mine.”

Needless to say, you weren’t used to the forward nature Levi was presenting to you. You almost wondered if he had an ulterior motive, but shook the thought aside. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

—

Levi’s Office 0800 Hours

You were both uncharacteristically quiet as he led you through the door separating his office from his private quarters. While you weren’t unfamiliar with being there, the last time you had set foot in his bathroom was when you injured your hands scrubbing his floor.

“Go ahead and start the shower, Y/N. I’ll bring you a towel and something to wear.”

You felt your face flush and cleared your throat, “I’d be naked.”

“And?”

“And your shower door is glass, Levi.” You hissed, pressing your cool hands to your cheeks in a desperate attempt to soothe the burning of your skin.

Levi smirked, slowly backing you into the door to the bathroom. “Is that a problem? Are you telling me after the daring lecture you gave me the other day you’ve suddenly decided to go shy on me?”

The burning sensation afflicting you only worsened as he placed his arms on either side of you, pinning you in place. “That’s - I - I don’t even know what we are . How am I supposed to calmly let you into the room when I’m fully exposed to you?” You muttered, trying to avoid his intense gaze by turning your head away.

“What do you want to be?” He murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“I’m more interested in your answer, Brat.”

“I -” you huffed in irritation, frustrated that your body was betraying you in more ways than one when you desperately wanted a clear mind. “I want to be - I want to be the person you turn to at night when you need a break. I want to be the person providing you comfort after a particularly rough expedition. I want to be the reason you come home,” you whispered.

“What I’m trying to say, Levi, is I want to be yours.”

Levi sucked in a breath, pink dusting his cheeks. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected you to be forward with your answer - he just was unprepared for the intimate sincerity he detected in your voice. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke.

“We’d have to keep it secret, at least for a while.”

“I know.”

“Not everyone is going to take kindly to a relationship between you and me.”

“I’m aware.”

“And when all is said and done, are you prepared for the possible fallout that comes with - eventually - going public?”

“Are you?”

Amusement shown in Levi’s piercing eyes. “I don’t think I’ll know until it happens.”

“That’s how I feel.” You paused, glancing at your captain carefully. “Is this what you want? I don’t want a decision being made one-sidedly, Levi.”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his answer. When push came to shove, he never was very good at expressing his feelings with the candor you were capable of.

For you, that moment felt like an eternity.

“Levi?”

He gently rested his head on your shoulder, steadying his breathing. “You know I’m fucking terrible at this.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I need an answer.”

“Right.”

More silence.

“I want to try it,” he said after a while, “I’d probably never stop beating myself up if I didn’t at least see where this went, especially after I drank a fucking glass of whiskey just to be able to be honest with you.”

You carefully lifted your hand to caress his cheek, keenly aware of the way he tensed under your touch. “If that’s the case, I’d like - um - I’d like for you to join me.” You cursed yourself for the wavering in your voice, wanting to seem confident for the both of you.

Levi’s head shot up so fast you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had given himself whiplash. His eyes were wide and he gaped at you openly. “I’m sorry, did I hear you right? You want me to fucking join you? In the shower?”

“I mean - you normally take a shower after training anyway and I figure this would be faster…” you trailed off, running a hand through your h/l h/c hair. “You don’t have to, but if you’re going to see me naked anyway I don’t exactly see a problem with us both being in the shower.”

“The difference is that you’d see me naked too, Y/N.”

“And?”

“And,” he huffed, standing up straight. “I don’t know if I can control myself being that close to you in that situation, regardless of if you smell like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You said it first, not me.”

“Are you going to join me or not?”

“I - fuck - are you even listening? What if I jump you in the goddamn shower?” Levi hissed, glaring at you.

You quirked your brow at him, crossing your arms. “I’m not exactly a blushing bride, Levi. I’ve done…things.”

“You haven’t done things with me.”

“Not yet.”

“Not y- Jesus Christ.”

“If you don’t want to then just say so. I’m not about to take offense to it.” You replied evenly, trying desperately to calm your rapid heartbeat. “We can take it slow.”

“I…wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“So?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?”

“You’re lucky I’m not making you beg,” came your sly remark.

How the fuck does she go from shy and quiet as a mouse to a bold, teasing brat with the snap of her fingers?

Regardless of his surprise at your confident change of tone, he couldn’t let your challenge go unanswered. After all, he was a sore loser. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who should make you beg, Y/N. After all, I fully intended to bend you over my desk the other day.”

“I’ll ask you one more time. Are you joining me?”

“I can’t exactly say no when you act like such a confident Brat now, can I?”

—

Levi realized rather quickly that Y/N liked her showers hot - if the steam billowing from the bathroom indicated anything - as he gathered towels and clothes for the both of them.

“Oi, you better not be wasting all of the hot water in your masochistic attempt to burn yourself alive.” He called, only half-kidding.

“Maybe if you hurried up that wouldn’t be a problem.” You responded cheekily, folding your dirty clothes and setting them to the side. Though it was you who made the bold declaration that you should shower together, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You didn’t hate your body per-se, but the scars that riddled your skin like rough strokes of paint on a canvas gave you pause. It meant you had survived countless encounters with death, that you were a soldier with experience, but you couldn’t ignore the wistful desire for clear, unmauled skin.

“I’m coming,” Levi grumbled, “don’t get your shorts in a bunch, Cadet.”

“I can’t - I’m not wearing any.”

Levi could hear the shit-eating grin in your voice and snorted, pushing aside the nervousness knotting his stomach. “Last chance to back out. I’m outside the door.”

The silent question did not go unheard by you. Is this okay? The gentle concern he showed you in private made your heart swell.

You took a final, resolute breath. “You can come in.”

The moment he crossed the threshold and first laid eyes on you, he was sure his heart stopped beating. Levi swallowed thickly, his eyes growing cloudy as he took in the sight before him. Your skin glowed gently in the light of the room, your scars shining proudly as if like lightning in the middle of a storm. A delicate dusting of pink was present on your cheeks, which you tried to hide with your confident stance, head held high.

“Will you be joining me, or do you just plan to stand there while the water goes cold?”

“Can’t I admire what’s in front of me for a second without your nagging?” He deadpanned, sarcasm evident in the dry tone of his voice.

“Not if I can’t admire you mutually.”

Levi wasn’t completely unfamiliar with intimacy when it came to the bedroom, but his knowledge was limited to one-night stands to scratch an itch. Letting down his walls and laying himself bare was foreign territory and led to pause. After a moment of hesitancy, overridden by the image of embracing you under the unremitting pressure of the water, he stripped.

You eyed him hungrily, unable to control your wandering gaze as Levi undressed. The first to go was his shirt, unbuttoned with the utmost care. With every flick of his wrist, a new expanse of skin was revealed to you. The scars that lined his porcelain skin only served to make him more alluring. Levi turned from you for a moment, wordlessly folding his shirt and placing it atop yours, before returning to his original position and unbuttoning the white pants of his uniform.

You wondered if his slow, purposeful movements were meant to tease you, your breath becoming more ragged with each one.

His eyes met yours, that vulnerable gaze returning. In one swift motion, he lay bare before you, stepping out of his pants soundlessly. Before you could speak, he moved towards you with the utmost care, ignoring the disorganized mess he left in his wake.

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed, cupping your cheek.

Your e/c eyes fluttered shut at his feather-light touch. “Not as beautiful as you,” came your stertorous response.

Levi swallowed thickly, motioning to the shower. “We should probably get in.”

“Right.”

After an instant of awkward shuffling, you both let out a groan of relief at the sensation of warm water pelting you both, as if washing away the nerves that threatened to burst forth from your hearts.

“Feels good,” you murmured, allowing the water to soothe your aching muscles as you set to removing the sweat and grime from your skin.

Levi only grunted in response, unable to tear his eyes from you. His hair clung to his face, obscuring his perfect view of the awe-inspiring sight in front of him. He knew he should start washing as well, but found it impossible to focus on the task.

Control yourself, his brain hissed.

“Levi?”

“What?” came his slightly surprised response as you jarred him from his trance.

“I asked if you’d like me to wash your hair.” The innocence in your voice only spurred him on more, so instead of a response, you got a strangled noise and a nod.

With a tender caress of your hand, you turned him away from you and lathered the shampoo in your hands. He reveled in the feeling of your fingers gently scratching his scalp as you worked the soap into his hair, letting out a relieved sigh.

The feeling of his body under your ministrations caused your heart to constrict painfully in your chest. Wondering how much you could get away with, you pressed yourself against his back, gently pushing his head towards the water.

“You can rinse it out,” you said breathlessly, beginning to feel a familiar warmth building in your core.

“Y/N what are you doing?”

“Helping you get clean.”

“No,” he continued, trying desperately to focus on the task of washing out the shampoo, “what are you doing pressed up against me like that?”

Don’t lose control.

“Is it too much?” You breathed, wrapping your arms around him to feel his chest daringly.

“It is if you expect me to keep myself in check.” He asserted, grabbing one of your hands in a vice grip.

Don’t. Lose. Control.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

That was all it took to snap the thin threads keeping Levi from his desire to absolutely wreck you . He whipped around and pinned your hands to the wall before you could react, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. It was a fierce battle of teeth and tongues; you fought against his hold as best as you could, the desire to tangle your hands in his hair impossible to ignore.

His grip on your wrists only tightened as he ground his hips against yours. Levi was in charge of the pace, and he’d be damned if he let you take it from him.

“I’m going to leave you a writhing mess, Y/N.” He growled, his voice hoarse.

You could only let out a moan in response, grinding against his hardening cock. You wanted to feel him - all of him. You wanted to know what his tongue felt like on your pussy, how his fingers felt as they teased your clit, and how full you would be with him bottomed-out inside of you.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Levi, fuck, I-” you keened, biting your lip.

“I can’t hear you, Cadet.” was his demanding reply.

“Please, Captain, let me touch you - let me taste you.”

He released the bruising grip on you immediately, his normally gray eyes black and clouded with lust. You pushed him back by his hips, giving yourself room to get on your knees in front of him. Eye-level with his twitching length, you licked your lips greedily. With a fleeting glance at Levi, you wrapped your hand around him and pumped in a teasingly slow rhythm.

Levi sucked in a breath, his hands tangling in your h/l locks. It was taking all of his self-restraint not to shove your pretty little mouth onto his throbbing member. Luckily he didn’t have to wait for the blessed feeling of your tongue long.

“Levi, you’re so perfect.” you hummed, licking him from base to tip, swirling your tongue around his head before swallowing him down. You could taste the salty, heady flavor of his precum as you took him as deeply as you could. It only served to spur you on more; your mind was clouded with lust and a desire to please.

He hissed, his head slamming into the shower wall behind him.

“Fuck, Y/N… How are you so good with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

His praise was music to your ears, and your only response was to bob your head rhythmically, forcing yourself to take more of his cock with each forward motion. Before long he was an absolute mess, panting and writhing under your touch.

“Stop - Stop.” He breathed, pulling you off of him. “I won’t be able to keep my promise to ruin you if you keep going.”

“I think I ruined you instead.” You challenged, licking your lips seductively.

“Oh, Love,” he purred, the pet name making you squirm, “you have no idea what I plan to do to you.”

Grabbing the soap next to him, he motioned for you to stand, lathering his hands.

“First, I’m going to clean that filthy body of yours from head to toe. Then I’m going to taste that delectable pussy of yours and fuck you with my mouth till you’re begging for release.” His hands moved purposefully against your skin as he washed off the remnants of the day. You were painfully aware of his desire to tease you as he massaged your torso, avoiding your breasts entirely.

“Levi, please…”

“Please what, Y/N?”

“Please touch me.” You begged, reaching for his hand.

He pulled away from you immediately, leaving you cold and wanting. “I thought I taught you patience during our training - I’ll touch you where I want when I want. You’ll just have to be good for me and wait.”

You whined, fisting your hands at your sides and shutting your eyes, willing yourself to stay still for him.

“Good girl - You’re so good for me.” He purred, resuming his ministrations.

Levi washed you at a painfully slow pace, making good on his promise to clean every single part of you. With each motion of his hands, you could feel yourself getting wetter. Frankly, you were so wet you weren’t sure if you were dripping or if it was just the water cascading over your skin. Regardless, he still hadn’t touched you where you desperately wanted to, obviously leaving your breasts and core for last.

“Are you ready, Love?” He murmured in your ear, the desire in his voice evident. “You’ve been so patient - so good. I’m going to reward you for your efforts.”

Before you could respond he began massaging your breasts, pinching at your nipples and tugging them gently. The stimulation made your knees week and you struggled to keep yourself upright, settling for leaning back against Levi’s chest for support.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?”

“Yes, Levi - fuck - it feels so fucking good.”

“You can barely stand; I wonder what’ll happen when I finally taste you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, the sultry tone of his voice driving you insane. “Please. Please, Levi - Babe I’ve been so patient. I need you.”

Levi chuckled and pressed a kiss to your neck. “Do you want me to give you what you want?”

“Yes.”

He turned you to face him, kissing you again - his love for you evident in every movement. As quickly as it began, it was over. Levi knelt between your legs, quirking an eyebrow at you as if asking for permission once more.

You nodded enthusiastically, gently threading your fingers in his raven-colored hair.

Satisfied with your consent, he leaned in, licking your slit experimentally. The loud moan you released echoed against the walls, spurring him on. He took your hips in a bruising grip, burying himself in your folds and relishing in the sweet taste of your slick. He lapped at your folds enthusiastically, reveling in every sound you made.

You sounded more divine than all of the music in the world.

It took all of your willpower to stay standing when he sucked on your clit with fervor, his index and middle fingers finding your opening and sliding in with ease. He pumped them in a slow, purposeful rhythm, taking his time to stretch you. Levi was well-aware that you could probably take him right then with how aroused you were, but he desperately wanted to draw this out.

I want to burn this into my memory - How she feels. How she makes me feel. How I can ruin her so easily.

“Jesus, please Levi, I need to feel you. I want to feel you.”

How could he deny you when you asked so sweetly?

He removed himself from between your legs after a final kiss to your labia, his longing gaze finding yours. Levi stood, backing you against the wall of the shower and lifting your right leg to rest on his hip. He lined himself up with your opening and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Is this okay, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you breathed, looking at Levi lovingly.

“There isn’t any going back from this.”

“I know.”

“You’re really sure?”

“It sounds like you’re trying to talk yourself out of it more than me, Levi.” You chucked, cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you want to stop? We can stop.”

“No.” He assured, biting his lip, “I just want to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m more than ready.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. He slid into you with one fluid motion, taking a minute to savor the feeling of your tight walls against his cock.

You both let out a quiet moan, Levi’s grip on you tightening as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The feeling of him deep inside of your pussy was absolutely divine . You were so full, so satisfied just reveling in the sensation of you both being one. He felt amazing.

It felt as though you were perfectly made for each other.

After a moment to collect himself, Levi willed himself to move. He tried desperately to maintain a cadence with his thrusts, but it was becoming more difficult with each gasp and moan you released. He was well aware of the sharp sting of your nails clawing at his shoulders - it only served to make it more difficult to keep in control.

It was as if you could read his mind when you responded, “Let go, Levi. Just let go.”

He didn’t need any further encouragement.

His hips snapped forward with reckless abandon. Levi thrust into you roughly, his nails digging into your leg that he held against himself.

Mine. Mine. All fucking mine .

With each powerful thrust he gave, you began losing yourself in the splendor. The familiar tightness of an impending orgasm made itself known and you tried to tell him between frenzied breaths.

“Levi - I - Fuck - I’m gonna - Please I want to cum .”

“God - Yes - Fuck Y/N cum for me. Cum for me, Love. I want to see you unravel.” Levi growled, feeling his own impending release surface as you clenched around him.

By now his thrusts were absolutely brutal - no measured tempo to be found. It was frantic, carnal, desperate desire to finish that guided his motions. He wanted you to scream for him. He wanted you to come undone in his arms - all for him.

He never said he wasn’t selfish.

It wasn’t long before you saw stars.

“Levi!” You yelled, digging your nails into his back and drawing blood as you came. Your body shook with the power of your orgasm, only being held up by the firm, steadying grip Levi had on you. He didn’t stop his ministrations, leaving you overstimulated and begging for him.

He had succeeded in ruining you.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m going to cum” Levi hissed, his head falling into the junction between your neck and shoulder.

“Cum on me, Levi. Cum for me.” You said breathlessly, wanting him to feel just as good as you did when he orgasmed.

With a final stroke, Levi pulled out of you and jerked himself to completion, cumming all over your stomach and hips. Spurred on by the intense sensation of his orgasm, he bit into your neck, hoping to leave his mark on you.

You both slumped onto the floor of the shower, holding each other and trying to collect yourselves.

“I love you, Levi.” You murmured, pressing your head to his chest.

Levi wrapped his arms around you gently, hoping to prolong this moment with you as long as possible.

“I love you too.”

The water in the shower had long grown cold.

Neither of you seemed to notice.

[crackerjackawrites]

Walking Inferno (2600 Words)

A hired killer is in for a horrific surprise after his most recent hit. (originally written February 2021)

Don Giuliani - or just Don, as he liked to be known by his employees - sat in the large, leather bound chair at his desk. Papers were spread out across the table and a cigar sat in the nearby ashtray, still leaking smoke into the room. It was like a damn hotbox in there, and somebody needed to open a window (it wouldn’t be Don, he had people for that). Opposite Don sat Payton Gonzalez, a broad-chested bull of a man. His brown hair was beginning to recede, but it gave him a wise look, made up for what was going on up there in his head. Nothing, by Don’s estimate.

“So,” said Payton, his voice strong and confident, “What’s the next hit?”

“I’ve got the papers here,” replied Don, and he began to rummage through the papers on his desk. “Somewhere here.”  

Eventually, Don pulled out an envelope from beneath a spread of important documents, “Here,” he muttered, and passed it over to Payton. Payton opened the file, it had a name in large letters at the top of the page,

“You’re kidding,” said Payton, “John Smith?”

“It’s great, huh? Like he’s some sorta fuckin’ character!”

Payton smirked, and carried on reading. Below the name was Mr. Smith’s date of birth, April second, 1968; his place of work, Reeves and Bromley Ltd.; and his address, Rotterdam Apartments, 247th Street, Manhattan. Also in the envelope was a picture of John, he had blonde hair and his chin was dotted with stubble, he had light blue eyes and thick eyebrows above them. The image showed him walking into work wearing a bomber jacket and dark jeans.

Payton dropped the papers onto his lap, “So what’s this guy’s deal?”

“It’s not him we have the problem with, it’s his daughter. She’s suspended her deal with us, so we’re gonna teach her a lesson. Hopefully she learns something here, or we’re gonna have to go after her other papa too.”

“How do you want me to go about it?” asked Payton.

“Car bomb,” said Don, “that should get the message across.”

“Of course, sir.”

Payton stood on the street opposite John’s car, two blocks away from Reeves and Bromley. It was coming up to 6pm, so John would be leaving work any second now and heading for his car. The bomb was planted. All Payton needed was for John to turn the keys and boom, he’d get the paycheck.

John strolled around the corner, he wore the same jacket that he had on in the image from his file. He looked like he was in a rush to get home. Good. John unlocked his car, got into the seat, fiddled with his keys for a second, pushed it into the- Boom! Payton had forgotten how quickly those things go off. People started screaming all around him. Payton joined in the panic, he knew how suspicious it would look if he didn’t. He always wished he could walk away with the swagger of an action hero from the movies, but his job never let him, so he had to make do with shouting and running away. One of the worst compromises in his life, he thought. Either way, this was another successful hit, some extra cash in his pocket.

Don Guiliani’s place looked abandoned, Payton guessed that was on purpose. The dark green paint on the door was peeling, revealing the rusted metal beneath it, and the windows were boarded up with rotting wooden planks. The bricks looked like they hadn’t been washed in years. Payton knocked on the door and the rusting peephole scraped open.

“Passwo-”

“Cinnamon Roll,” said Payton, he was sure Don got a kick out of making him say that every time he came in.

“Alright, man!” moaned the voice from the door, “Why’re you in such a fuckin’ rush?.”

The door opened, and Payton walked through, shoving the doorman with his shoulder. The building looked just as run down on the inside as it did the outside, Don really needed a designer. Payton made his way through the corridor, straight towards Don’s office. He knocked, 1-2-3, pause, 1-2, the second code that Don had given him, after “cinnamon roll”.

“Come in, boy,” called Don from within the room, Payton opened the door, “How did it go?”

“Fine,” said Payton, “You got the cash?”

“Of course,” Don reached down below his desk and pulled out a briefcase, he clicked open the locks to reveal wads of notes laying within, “There we are. Exactly what I promised it’d be.” Don locked the briefcase again.

“Thanks,” grunted Payton, and he grabbed the case. He got up, walked straight out the building, and continued all the way to his apartment. He’d count it up when he got back.

That night, Payton dreamed. He dreamed of fire, of his skin boiling until it melted from his bones. Molten metal piercing his charred flesh, burning his insides. He screamed until his throat either dried up or turned to ash, he couldn’t tell which came first. He dreamed of a man, a man who hated him. He cried for revenge. He cried to take Payton’s life.

Payton shot up from his bed. It was dark out still. He never had nightmares. Who was that figure? The devil? Payton wasn’t a particularly religious man. Was it John? Payton had never had that type of reaction after a hit before, so he doubted it. John wasn’t special in any way. Not to Payton at least. He checked the time on his phone: five forty-three. He had to get up at seven, no point in trying to sleep again now.

A few hours later, Payton stood at the entrance of Solar Mechanics, his other place of work. Much like Don’s, Solar was a pretty run-down building with tattered brick work and creaky garage doors, this one at least looked lived in from the outside, though. This definitely wasn’t the first time Payton had gone to work the day after a hit, but something felt off today. It was probably the dream. Payton tentatively stepped through the garage door, keeping his guard up more than usual. Payton locked eyes with his manager, George, from his small office space across the service area. George got up and waved at Payton.

“Hey, Payton!” he called from across the room, “I need you for something, asap.” He said asap like a word, not an acronym.

“Yes?” snapped Payton.

“Woah there, tiger.” He chuckled, “I just need you to do a service drive with one of the beasts over here.” George walked over to what he called “the beasts”, the section on the service floor reserved for the most powerful cars in stock. Payton followed.

“A Bugatti?”

“A damn powerful one too,” George chuckled again, “released this year.”

“Damn.” Payton muttered.

“Uh-huh.”

“And you just want me to take it out?”

“Yep. I’ll get you the key now. I only need you out there for like 30 minutes. No biggy.”

“Yessir.”

George returned with the key and bowled it to Payton. Who snatched it out of the air with ease. Payton stuck the key into the ignition and turned, causing the engine to ignite with power.

“Oh, baby!” called Payton over the light, satisfying rumble of the engine, “It's hot!”

“Enjoy!” said George, smirking. He slapped the back of the car like it was a racehorse and Payton drove out of the front of the garage smoothly. Payton drove aimlessly for a while, but came to his consciousness when he realised where he’d driven.

The sign of Reeves and Bromley Ltd. loomed over him and, for a while, Payton just stared up at it in awe. Shit, why did he come back? He didn’t mean to. Was it fate? Payton slowly drove away from the sign and around the corner, the same corner where the bomb had been planted. It was like he was on autopilot. Payton drove up the street, straining against all his willpower not to look at the space where the car had sat. But he gave in. There was still a large, black scorch mark on the road. The body of the car had been towed away but still little pieces of metal lay across the road like soldiers in a war they’d already lost. Payton could hear a crackling, like fire. He whipped his head around… But saw nothing. He turned back, to face an inferno across the street. The spiral of fire lashed out in all directions, it roared at Payton. People started screaming all around him, running from the flame. But Payton was frozen in fear. He squinted into the fire. It looked like there was someone in there. There was someone in there! A dark humanoid figure stood, wreathed in the blaze. It began to walk toward Payton.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he cried, scrambling at the door handle. He finally grasped hold of it and yanked, nearly pulling it clean off. He pushed open the door and practically fell out the door, only to find himself face to face with the raging blaze. The figure inside lifted their finger and pointed at Payton. It spoke with a strained voice,

“You…”

Payton started to back away, “Who- Who are you?”

“You… know... me.” And Payton did. He didn’t know how, but he now recognised the figure as John Smith. John’s corpse continued, “Why… did… you… kill me?”

“It was what I was told to do!” Payton panted, “If you wanna take it up with anyone, make it Don - Don Giuliani. Please!”

The fire surrounding John weakened, and he stepped forward, revealing his charred flesh and ashen bones. His voice became less strained, it still had a low growl to it “Does that justify it for you? That someone else asked you to kill me?”

“No,” Payton nearly tripped on a pothole, “Of course n-”

John erupted into flames and screamed, “Then why did you do it?” John began to extinguish again, “What did I even do?” John was now practically just a black skeleton, some small embers flickered beneath his remaining flesh.

“It wasn’t you,” muttered Payton, “It was your daughter.” Payton suddenly realised that the two of them were standing in the middle of an empty street, everyone else fled when John had appeared.

“Laura?” the small embers across John’s body started to multiply, “She was in the mafia?”

“Until recently,” Payton was starting to calm down now, the site of a burning corpse standing before him almost felt normal, “She stopped her deals, Don wanted to get back at her.”

John’s blaze roared up again. Payton could feel the heat, even from this distance, “So you killed me?”

“Like I said,” this scene felt entirely natural to Payton now, “it wasn’t my choice-”

“Every time you kill someone it’s a choice, and I know this wasn’t your first time.”

“Please, you should take this out on Don. I’ve got a kid at home! You know what that’s like.”

John tutted, Payton wasn’t sure how, “I know that’s a lie, Payton. I was in your apartment last night. I saw you... alone.”

“Shit,” Payton muttered. Before he could say anything else, John started walking towards him. All the familiarity Payton had felt was melting away, and he stared directly at the molten cadaver of the man he had murdered the evening before. Nearly all his flesh had melted away now, small scraps of skin were still smouldering on his skull and his tendons were beginning to break under the heat; leaving him to stagger forward with an uncanny speed.

Payton backed up into an alley, he was too far in when he realised the mistake. The two tall buildings on either side cast dark shadows into the alley, the shadows only broken by the roaring fires that were spilling out of John and towards Payton. He was trapped. Unless? Payton spun around to face the wall at the end of the alley, it looked just about climbable. He took a step back, hearing the crackling flames behind him, and ran at the wall. He leaped and caught the top of the bricks with his fingertips.

His muscles straining, Payton slowly pulled himself up the wall. But then, a searing pain caught his left thigh. Payton turned, and found John’s arms clasped onto his leg, the torrid heat was branding his thigh. John yanked Payton down with ease and threw him into the row of trash cans that lined the alley. John scrambled to his feet. As he was getting up, Payton noticed his left pant leg had a large hole burned into it where John had grabbed him. The burn went all the way through to his flesh, where it was bright red and scabbing.

“Don’t worry,” said John, his voice becoming more strained and alien as the fire surrounding him grew, “I’ll find Don after we’re done here. At least you’ll have the pleasure of knowing you weren’t the only one to die.”

Payton backed up against one of the walls, “Please! John, please. You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but I do. If I kill you then I’ll be free of this life. Free of this torture!”

John took a step closer to Payton. Payton took a step back. John took a step closer to Payton, but Payton was up against the wall now. John took another step and Payton could feel the heat singeing the hairs on his arms. John moved his arm back and thrust it into Payton’s chest. Payton looked down, John had burnt a clean hole straight where his heart was. John yanked his arm back out and Payton sputtered, boiling blood pouring out of his mouth. Payton looked up, his vision blurred, and could just make out John holding his heart in one hand. John slowly tightened his grip around the heart until it popped, spraying blood over Payton’s face. Payton’s vision slowly dimmed, with John’s chuckle the only thing left to keep him company.

Don Giuliani sat in the large, leather-bound chair at his desk. He had finally decided to sort out the clusters of papers that had lay strewn across it every day for too long to remember. He was finding all the old hit profiles that had been given back to him from the agents, he really should’ve shredded those as he got them. It was lucky that he hadn’t been caught. A cop could easily bust down the door and execute him on the spot with all this evidence. He was putting the final file into the bag when he heard a shout from the hallway.

“Holy shit! He’s burnin’ the fuckin’ door down!” It was Oz, the doorman.

“What?” called Don, storming into the hallway. He looked at the large, metal door and, sure enough, the rusted steel was melting right before his eyes. “Holy shit.”

Oz shoved past him, his face a portrait of terror. Don looked back at the door, something was stopping his instinct to flee. The door began to glow orange with heat, then yellow, then white. Something punched through the door, sending globs of molten metal over the floor, it looked like a black, skeletal hand. A leg kicked a hole through the door afterwards. Then an entire charcoal skeleton stepped through, it was wreathed in flames. It looked straight at Don.

“Hello, Don.”

“J-John?”

[politics-notmything]

I can't pretend that it's okay when it's not. (Part II)

This is Part II in the series. Reading Part I is recommended, let me know if you enjoyed and if you want more! Love you all!

TW- bad language, talk about rape and religion, talk about abortion. (let me know if there’s anything else I should add.)

Anne woke up with Parr beside her. What did she do to deserve her? Cathy's leg was dangling over the bed and her laptop was nearly falling off. Anne grabbed the laptop and was craving some Netflix. (When their relationship started becoming serious Cathy said that there should be no secrets between them and Anne happily told Cathy her password and figured she could do anything secret like plan an engagement on Kitty's MacBook.)

She punched into her girlfriend's passcode and the screen revealed a small word document. Pinterest was open beside it and the search was titled 'Baby rooms.' Anne diverted her eyes to the word document beside the tab. Each page was colour coded, pastel green, pastel blue, pastel yellow, pastel pink. Anne realised that Cathy had been getting inspiration for the baby's room. Anne closed the laptop slowly and smiled at her sleeping girlfriend, she looked so peaceful.

"Where have you been all my life?" Anne muttered before wrapping an arm around her girlfriend and snuggling down beside her.

"Babe? Annie? Wake up, baby." Cathy tapped on Anne's arm as she opened her eyes with a moan. "Anna's making pancakes, she wants everyone down to see her land the flip," Cathy explained. Anne closed her eyes again and rolled onto her back,

'I don't want to." She moaned.

"Cathy rolled her eyes and got into bed with her, "Let me rephrase that." She wriggled her arm around Anne's shoulder and pulled her in tightly, "Both of you need to get up." Cathy placed a hand on Anne's stomach and Anne snuggled into Cathy's chest.

"I don't know what to do." She mumbled so only Cathy could hear, "I want to keep it, I really do but I feel like I can't. It isn't really mine and it isn't ours. we still need to tell everyone and I don't think I can face that." Anne confessed not looking Cathy in the eyes,

"Annie, im not going to lie to you, this is going to be hard and im going to help you get through this, every second of it  and anyone who says you were wrong I will kill them." Cathy defended and Anne buried her head into Cathy's shoulder for support and comfort.

She felt safe in Cathy's arms with her warm breaths against the back of her pale neck,"This is why I want to marry you." Anne yawned before snuggling back up to Cathy to sleep again.

Marry? She wants to marry me? Cathy was shocked, Anne Boleyn actually wants to be my wife? A small snore came from Anne's pale pink lips that Cathy had found comfort in so often and she arose from the bed. She walked softly over to her cabinet being careful where she stepped and opened the top drawer. She picked up a pair of fluffy cyan socks and shook them so a small black box with a green trim fell into her hand. She placed the socks back into the drawer and opened the box, taking out a beautiful ring. The ring was solid 14K yellow gold with an assorted pattern of emerald and diamond.

It sparkled in the light and Cathy couldn't help but awe at its beauty. It was wonderous, the way it shone in the light, the 6 emerald gems reminded her of Anne and that's why she bought it.

Two weeks from now, Jane had booked a trip for them to all go to Disneyland in Orlando and Anne had always romanced about kissing Cathy under cinderella's castle and that's where Cathy is going to propose. It would start as normal, Anne would drag Cathy towards the photographer, scan their cards and ask for 100 photos and she wouldn't care about the price. Then, halfway through the photoshoot, Cathy would pull the ring from her pocket and Anne would be too busy posing to know what was going on. Cathy would get down on one knee and-

"I swear to our lord and saviour Jesus Christ! You two are up here and the-" Aragon stopped when she saw Anne sleeping soundly and Cathy holding the ring. Her tone softened, "Shit, im so sorry, that could've really backfired!” Aragon apologised before walking over Cathy holding the ring. "So, your actually gonna do it?"

"Yea, when we go to Disneyland." Cathy gulped and looked at the other Catherine for support.

"If you looking at me for confirmation-"

"Well, yes." Cathy interjected, "Your Catholic, isn't this whole thing against your religion? It might also mess up our relationships with the other queens and I don't want that." Cathy explained before putting the ring back in it's bok and then back in the sock.

"Look, im not going to judge or stop you. I've seen you two together sometimes and the bond you two have is unbreakable! I'm not gonna stop true love." Aragon then continued, "it was only a matter of time anyway. People have been putting bets on you two."

"wait, what?"

"Oh yea, Kitty bet me 10 that Anne was gonna propose first, I countered that in saying Anne wouldn't be ready and you would make the first move. Jane told us to stop arguing and that you'll do it in your own time and Cleves said that you're both desperately in love and will probably end up proposing at the same time anyway." Aragon explained and Cathy couldn't help but laugh at the statement and then letting the queen continue, "Like I said, people are betting, it's only a matter of time! You two are made for each other and nothing should keep you apart."

"Thank you, Catherine." Cathy enveloped her in a hug as the smell of pancakes crept through the door.

"I'll let you wake the gremlin up. I hate dealing with a tired Anne." Aragon gave Cathy one last supportive smile and left the room.

"Okay sleeping beauty!' Cathy walked over to the bed and gave Anne a little peck on the nose, "It's time to wake up, for real this time!"

Cathy held Anne's hand as they walked down the stairs,

"I think I'm gonna tell them, Cathy, they need to know," Anne explained

"I'm not going to stop you, Annie, you should know that by now, I'm with you all the way!" Cathy rubbed circles on the back on Anne's hand and she turned around to face her girlfriend.and

"Thank you,  babe' Anne said and Cathy could see it in her eyes as they interlocked their lips, she was genuinely grateful for everything and Cathy was going to keep it that way.

"I found them!" Anna's voice boomed in the hallway that leads to the kitchen,

"Honestly! It's been 2 hours since I knocked on your door this morning Anne, you need to eat!" Jane fused,

"She's probably already eaten." Cleves mocked and 'not-so-subtly winked at Parr who still had her hands-on Anne's waist.

"I hate you Cleves," Cathy remarked before lading Anne to her seat. Cathy could feel Anne's pulse racing and helped her sit down onto a chair for fear that she might fall, Kitty (who knew about Anne's 'big secret') gave her a reassuring smile from across the table. She'd been in Anne's position before. She’d also had her life and freedom taken away by a man who just wanted to use her for her body, to please only himself and having known what that felt like, Kitty would be there for her cousin without a second thought. 

Cathy soon arrived back with two plates, one with 3 pancakes for herself and another plate of 6 for Anne all covered in Nutella and cream, just how she likes them. Anne thanked Cathy with a kiss on the cheek and picked up her fork before dropping it back onto the table. The queens looked up from their breakfast and Cathy put a warm hand on Anne's thy.

'We have something to tell you all." Anne mumbled.

"Annie. I can say it, it's fine." Cathy whispered in her ear,

"thank you." Anne said loud enough for only Cathy to hear.

"Last night, I found out something very important about my girlfriend. And as a disclaimer, before we start if any of you give her any kind of shit for it I will personally murder and then Tumblr shame you all. Understand?" Cathy stood up and put a defensive hand on Anne's shoulder as the queens nodded.

"why Cathy whats happened?' jane interrupted.

"Anne was-"

"Anne is pregnant." Kitty confessed and her quick comment was met with speechless faces and a look of death from Catherine, "I'm sorry Cathy but I couldn't keep lying to you all. I heard Anne crying a few weeks ago and sand brought her a pregnancy test. She needed support and I was there, she hadn't even told Parr at that point!"

The queens stayed silent as to process the information

"Whos the father then?" Cleves asked upfront.

"I don't know," Anne answered to have confused looks thrown her way.

"Like she said, we don't know. He took advantage of her on the street when she was walking back from the theatre." Cathy explained to the now shocked but somewhat understanding queens.

"Are you gonna keep it?" Cleves continued to push Anne for answers.

"Who cares what she does with it!" Aragon shouted, "You have to take this to court, the man has to be punished!"

"I don't know who he is." Anne shrank into her chair

"Fuck that! You've been raped, Anne!" Aragon shouted and Anne flinched at the word, " Christ! That's worse than being beheaded, Anne!"

One of Anne's problems with the situation was that she'd been the vulnerable one. She hated being overpowered or beaten. She was a strong and powerful woman and this thing had broken her into thousands of pieces.

"Catherine!" Jane hushed.

"No! I may not like you but this is bullshit!"

"Aragon-" Kitty tried to reason but the older Catherine continued,

"You've been put through a lot Anne but at least Henry got consent! We need to know these things! How could you be so fucking stupid?" Aragon stood up and slammed her hands on the table,

"It wasn't her fault!" Cathy defended. "Do you think she chose this? Do you think she wanted this?" Aragon moved back a little, "or does your 'bible' say it's okay to use women like that-"

"I'm going to abort it!" Anne spoke up,

"What?" The two said in unison.

"I'm going to abort the baby. It's not really mine but this doesn't mean I don't want to have kids." Anne glanced at Cathy and she smiled,

"If it's what you want." Cathy accepted and Aragon sat down with a huff.

"I'll call the hospital," Jane suggested. "I don't think we'll be going out today," she looked at Kitty, "can you and Anna go put on a film?" Kitty nodded and dragged Cleves out to the living room with a giggle! "Come join us when you're ready." Jane addressed the final 3.

Once Jane had left the air transformed into an uncomfortable silence. Cathy sat back down and wrapped an arm around Anne. Anne snuggled back into Cathy and when she hummed, Aragon suddenly realised. Cathy was going to propose to Anne. The two had bonded so strongly over their traumatic pasts to become this force of nature that's stronger than the universe. This combination of love and happiness that they found in each other is why they can get through this without a court case and will be able to put their pasts behind them, marry and have a family with children of their own that will bring them so much happiness and the cycle will carry on. They can get through this, who was Aragon to say they couldn't.

"I'm sorry." She said, "it's your choice and you two can overcome this, you've done it before." Aragon smiled at the queens, Anne whispered a small "thank you." and she left the two alone together.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Mind of Misery: Manipulation, Part 8

[ And so the journey begins.  Three Separate stories to tell here all happening Simultaneously.  Attacking from three fronts, is this the beginning of the end for The Nine?  Please Like, Share, and Follow us!   We are hoping to get new people coming our way, and could use the love! Thank you everyone!!!!! ]

Cast:

[ L.K ] -  Lazarius Kashebahl, Marseille, Raelyndia Duskhollow

[ P.K ] - Kretus Dark

[ V.D ] - Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin

[ J ] - Jursol, Jimba, Mawa

[ T ] - Talisin aka The Boy

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[ V . D ]   Verzatea had remained just behind Lazarius, but still at his side. Her patience was in tip top condition, equal to her curiosity as she listened closely and observed with great caution, documenting Lazarius's every word as he unraveled the mystery of the situation.

Where would they go? What was safest? The pause that followed the first initial thud would involve chills rolling down Verzateas spine, her golden irises leering into the darkness with confusion that swiftly turns into uncertainty with each increasingly loud boom. Pame had turned to inspect the back of the room, trying to pinpoint just where the noise had come from, eager to determine the threat level.

Though the huntress could feel the rising fear in her chest, her heart hammering against her rib cage until the fear reached an ultimate high with the gasp and horrified holler of the stone of a man.

At Mars's cry had Pame set herself to work, instantly facing forward to focus on the doors. She forced down the rising hysterics whilst adjusting the young  child so that he was slung over her shoulder similar to how Mars had carried him and made a mad dash toward the other end of the room.

Verzatea gave forth a soft whimper as it all unraveled, the sudden darkness and high tension mingling with the palpable fear had sent her battered mind back to an old time.. A flashback to a state of genuine horror-- one which distracted her when all fell to darkness.

She'd quickly reach to grab for the Inquisitor out of pure instinct, but since she realized he wasn't where she last saw would the fear only skyrocket. But it did rip her from that flashback, allowing Tea to refocus.

Even if she was borderline hysteric as Mars commanded to 'Find him'. How swiftly chaos ensued would never fail to unnerve the Confessor, her voice shouting her panic and frustration into the darkness:

"Hes gone!"

Pame had, by then, closed the distance between herself and the door without the sigil. She had made this decision based on the offhand comment from Lazarius about deducing it as the door to not enter. Feeling or not, Pame trusted Lazarius's words. And there really wasnt much time to decipher riddles, so she made a split second decision.

She'd swiftly slam the bottom of her left boot against the face of the door, applying all of her weight into this forceful kick in an effort to send the door flying open. Her night vision had done her wonders in the past, but as she turned to investigate the state of the group would her eyes catch the hideousness of the monster in question.

The kaldorei gave a soft exhale of disbelief, astonished by its size and grotesque hideousness. But she couldn't linger for long. Her eyes instantly set to searching for the Inquisitor whilst shouting back toward the rest of the group, her voice projecting in hopes to guide them despite the lack of vision.

"To me! Follow my voice, quickly! Marseille, Jursol, Verzatea!"

Pame had remained relatively calm. In truth, she was terrified. But hesitating would result in unnecessary death which, to her, would be dishonorable... Death should either come naturally, or after a hell of a fight.

And she didn't intend on dying that day, especially not this easily. Surely everyone else could share in her stubbornness, even if they dealt with the stress differently than her high functioning self.

[ J ]   Jursol was trudging on though the bloody mess without much mind, but something felt off. It was quite. Too quite. As they made their way up to several doors, she stopped and was allowing Lazarius to tell them what door to enter. There was literally no other way to go but though one of these doors.

Boom.

She heard the sound of something coming. Unsure of what it was as she turned her head toward the sound. More booms were heard. Jursol readied herself for combat as she hunched down with her pole arm in hand. Her attention turned to the Shal’dorei as he spotted something coming their way.

His sudden fear was cause for alarm as he ran. Her eyes widened as she saw a sight that was nothing she’d seen before.

“By da Loa! What is dat thing?!”

She yelled as she moved close to the others. Her raptors crowded around them best they could to protect them. Each one clearly frightened, but none giving up on protecting them. However as they saw Lazarius be engulfed by what seems to be tentacles, they moved closer to Jursol.

This was far from something they’d seen before. Even Jursol was backing up some from him. The sight of the beast coming was enough to cause them all to run. Each one likely panicked as they rushed to pick a door. Fear only grew as the touch was out out followed by the mans screams.

She heard the Shal’dorei saying that Lazarius was gone and that was cause for more alarm.

“Dis be bad Juju! We must be moving now or he gone to!”

Her voice was no longer calm.

“I be sure Lazarius be alive, but we can not be waiting here. Otherwise we be dead before we can be helpen him!”

Jursol heard the sound of the door being forced open as she and the raptors moved fast. It was hard to see with the sudden loss of the torch, but she followed Pame’s voice to the door.

“ENTER ... ALL WILL BE ANSWERED.... ALL SHALL BE RESTORED...”.

[ L. K ]   The booming voice called outward through the darkness; through the sounds of the insect like hissing and clicking, through the sound of the war drums thundering, and over the slithering wriggling charters of the enormous head crawling down the hallway.  

“Get the door open! Get inside!”

Marseille had thrown everything he currently had at the beast, daggers were embedded within its face muscles, protruding from the eyes above its teeth and even several in the sewn portions of its eye lids, and yet it would not stop.

He flipped his spoon and hatchet from his belt loop and began to ignite the arcanic tunes across his flesh. Once he was certain the others were in the room he would prepare himself.  His body tense, muscles spasmodic and surging with adrenaline.  

“Keep them safe Pame...”.

He thought to himself silently. And just as he was about to rush for the being and attempt to end it from haunting them even more, a thought slowly popped into his head.  

It was Siida, laughing, smiling at him.  His eyes welled and her voice sung through his mind.

“I did know you were bluffing, and I will hold you in my thoughts as I always do, keep them safe and return as you stand...not that I wouldn't enjoy tending to you should you ever need it."

He snapped back to reality as Pame called for them to follow her voice and he would immediate turn and race for the door.  Being the last one through he would enter and just as he turned to shut the door, the head spewed out from the hallway into the main room they were just standing in.

A wave of red insect like tentacles came surging forward from its body and tethered themselves around Marseille and began pulling him out toward the head that wriggled and flopped about with its jaws flapping.  

It’s teeth clashing against one another as it flopped like a fish on the deck of a boat.  Marseille was being dragged to his death.

He held tightly to the door jam, desperation in his eyes as he prayed his allies would save him before his death.

[ J ]   Jursol has no time to react as she saw shit hitting the fan fast. Her body reacted before she even thought about it. She made a mad dash forward towards Mars, her raptors remained back protecting anyone behind them.

They’d be snapping at anything that got near them. Jursol raised her pole arm above her body, lunged forward with a very loud amazon yell. Her weapon managed to remove one of the damned tentacles as she held onto him best she could.

“HURRY! WE DON HAVE MUCH TIME! GET DIS BEAST OFF HIM!”

Jursol was careful in her stance holding him, but was not about to just let him go without orders.

“BY DA LOA,  HURRY!”

She screamed as she tried to hold Mars leaning back to try and slow the beast taking him.

[ V . D ]   With a ferocious snarl the kaldorei bursts forward purely on instinct. With the freedom to aid in saving the life of their own, Pame lunged forth with precision and prowess, her swords deftly removed from their deaths on her hips.

As she lunged and gravity began to pull her back down mid-stride, the woman concentrates the entirety of her strength into her cleaving swings as both swords come down in wide arcs, the blades hacking into the tentacles with as much strength as she could muster.

[ L. K ]   Despite their best efforts, the beast would be fighting them every step of the way.  It was snarling and spitting and splashing the blood all over while Marseille struggled to remain hanging on.

Jursol had split one of the tendrils in half and Verza did the same; and just as it was expected to let go, a third that had wrapped itself around his torso pulled viciously.  

Marseilles fingers were pried from the door jam and his helpless body was slammed into the devouring mouth of the head creature.  As his screams echoed across the threshold at them, one thing became certain.  A dozen more were coming for the rest of them.  They had one chance to slam the door shut. Otherwise they would be next.

[ V . D ]   Devastation fell upon Pames face, her hands shaking viciously as she lingered in the pool of blood, all that had unfolded despite their best efforts had shocked her to her core. She could still feel the shadow of a touch from the shaldoreis fingertips on her glove.

She had attempted to grab his hand when he let go of the door jam, and yet... He was gone. Before she could even blink. Cruelty of fate escaped no one. Not even those as old and wizened as elves.

But one thing was for certain, it was the only thing that grounded Pame despite the agony building within after witnessing her dearest of friends devoured. Times were grim, certainly, but the others were alive. Lazarius was missing.

They couldn't risk lingering for too long. Thus, with that same ferocious growl the kaldorei sheathes her swords and twists around before grasping for Jursols arm to guide her back to the others.

Once inside, she'd swiftly reach around and close the door behind them, ensuring it was such firmly. A grim expression laid claim to the kaldoreis features, her eyes full of great sorrow as she looked around at those who remained. Verzatea had pools of tears building in her eyes, her voice momentarily lost from the sheer shock of it.

[ J ]   Jursol had been next to Pame trying to save Mars. Following Pame behind the door after they lost their grip, Jursol began to feel rage. A rage not normal to her. It was as if even the Loa became angered. Her body shook as she turned to her raptors.

“We be finishing dis. None get in da way. Dis end now. Blood has been drawn. Dis be personal now.”

Her voice was deep, and held an echo that was not there before. Her eyes began to glow as she made a tight fist with her claws.

“Da deal made shall bear fruit. My children.”

She said to her Dino’s as she pat them each on the head.

“It be time for no more mercy. We be gettin our revenge in due time.”

Jursol moved slowly forward as she bowed her head to Pame.

“You be stronger den ya know. We be needin you ya help us press on. Da longer we wait, da more risk we be takin. We must finish what we came for. Lest his sacrifice be in vane.”

Calmly placing her hand on Teas shoulder as she knelt down.

“We be havin Justice soon enough. He be wantin us ta finish da job. Da Inquisitor be still alive. Don give up now my friend.”

It was a small sign of her affection, but there was little time to mourn now. They had to keep going.

[ V . D ]   Pame held the same passion as Jursol, her eyes permanently narrowed into an expression of determination and passion. With the powerful speech set from the zandalari Pame further acknowledged her with a nod of understanding.

Tea, as well, had found her composure with forcibly breathing through her nose, her mouth breathing consistent to old bad habits when her nerves got worked up, and as she began to breathe properly her panic dissipated.

Golden eyes stared mournfully toward the door where last they scrambled through, her brows twitching momentarily before she'd concede and begin to stand whilst pulling the boy back up into her arms.  

Everyone else had their duties, she'd not slack when plenty of stuff was to do.

"We need to keep steady, we will mourn after. We must watch for any traps,"

Pame remarks, her tone quite bitter.

"If you lot agree, I'll take the lead. I can see best in the dark, I can guide us through the twists and turns. Jursol, will you and your raptors protect our back and sides?"

"Thank you Jursol..,"

Tea breathes out shakily, glancing up toward the zandalari before smiling gently,

"It seems this has shaken me more than I was anticipating..."

And... A heartbreaking thought had appeared in her mind, nagging her with its corrective thoughts... Was Lazarius right all along? Was love not only pointless,  but dangerous?

Such a thought would lead the Confessor to fall into a facade of emotionless silence, her lips pressing into a firm line as she stares forward, squinting into the darkness.

"Whatever is decided, lets get on with it," the sindorei remarks, "I imagine plenty awaits us in these halls..."

[ J ]   Jursol nodded in agreement as she motions for the raptors to take up the rear. She made her way to the raptors as they prepared for whatever was ahead.

@siidaraykashebahl​

@frompage112​

@zandalaridruidofgonk​

@pyravari-kashebahl​

@whatadarkbitch​

@miss-irascible​

@thebladeitself​

To be continued in “In Mind of Misery, Manipulation, Part 9″

[blkmxrvel]

Carol Danvers Fluff A-Z Headcanon

Pairing: Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel x Female!Reader

Request: -

Warnings: None

A/N: I’m pretty sure you all saw this coming. And if you didn’t.....well.

A = affection (how affectionate are they in day to day life? Do they show affection publicly or keep that more in private?)

Growing up on Hala (we all know she didn’t but you know what I mean), Carol was always taught the less affection the better. She willed herself to never care or let her personal feelings get in the way. To her, the mission at task was always the most important.

But when she met you, all of that changed. She never understood why she wanted to hold your hand, or why she always started glowing when someone said something remotely offensive to you. 

Once she got over all of that however, you can best your bottom dollar that Carol was the most affectionate person you’d ever met. She doesn’t believe in showing you off in front of anybody, or anything like that. She knew you were hers, so affection didnt’t happen much when you were in public. But! At home around people you were both comfortable around, she would never stop with the pet names, holding, and random kisses. You never complained, and she never stopped.

B =best memory (what is the best memory they have with you)

She has two, even though they didn’t happen at the same time they’re both the same thing. The first time she met you. 

Before she had gone missing, you two were in the same troop in the Air Force. The day she walked on the field, she couldn’t take here eyes off of you. You smiled at her and she had committed to her memory. You two had became the best of friends after that.

After the six years, you were at Monica’s house when she and Fury came to the house. And Carol swears that everything came back to her in that moment. It was like you were the one with powers, the way a orange silhouette followed you around. She soaked in the way your body felt against hers when you hugged her.

Everything came flooding back. The laughs, the cries, the anger and the love. She had remembered it all.

C = cat or dog person

Cats, duh. Have you met Goose? Okay we know that he’s not an actual cat, but the way he looks, how fluffy he is has inspired Carol to never own any other animal. D = dreams (what do they want to do in life?)

To protect. That's always been her purpose. On Kree and even before the crash, she always wanted to protect her people. You, Monica, Maria, Fury; are her people, and she will be damned if she lets anything happen to any of you. E = evenings (how do they spend their evening? So they go out? Do they read?)

Sleep, sleep, sleep and more sleep. Trying to save planets and the universe really takes a toll, so she naps as much as possible. Most nights though, she loves to just cut on her favorite slow music grab a book and lose herself in it. Its her second favorite relaxation method. F = first date (what was it like?)

Fucking extravagant. Who would've thought carol was such a romantic. There were candles everywhere, soft music playing and an empty restaurant just for the two of you. You spent the entire evening having your every desire filled and it couldn't get any better than that.

G = giggle (what is their laugh like? What makes them laugh?)

Im- We all know, and if you don't I'm so sorry. With her stature and build you would think her giggle is dominant and deep, but no no. It's light, airy and makes your stomach do flips. It's adorable and you love to watch her eyes scrunch up when she does it. H = hugs (do they like hug? What kind of hugs do the give?)

Carol has the absolute best hugs. She's tall so naturally her arms go for the middle, and they're long so she's able to wrap them alllllll the way around and pull you in. She squeezes firm but not hard enough to make you lose your breath. Her eyes always close a little bit to savor the moment as she rests her head on top of yours. And She always smells like apples and vanilla so it makes the experience that much better. I = instrument (do they play an instrument?)

She loves the piano. The soft, serene music it makes is a sharp contrast to what she's usually used to: chaos, chaos, chaos. So she's delighted to let herself go in something so...grounding. J = joy (what brings them joy in life?)

You, Maria, Monica and Of course goose are her favorite people. She prides herself on human interactions with the ones she loves, so being around you guys makes her the happiest. Fighting to protect you all is great, but that means nothing if she doesn't have a bond with the ones she is protecting, you know? K = kisses (what kind of kisser are they? Shy? Passionate?)

You know….Carol is a certified #top but I think her kisses would be so soft and gentle most of time. She’d grab you by your face and start with your nose and cheeks, before placing the softest of kisses on your lips. It's so soft it tickles, making you and in turn her always laugh.

There are those occasions after a near-death mission or event where softness is not the needed medium. In those cases, passion is everything. Actions speak louder than words, and she’ll make sure that she speaks clearly.

L = love (how do they act when they have a crush)

When Carol Danvers wants something, she makes sure everyone knows it. She never missed an opportunity to compliment or flirt with you. She regularly invaded your personal space with hugs, cheek kisses and high five. Whenever someone would try to make advances on you, all she had to do was make her first glow a little bit and boom.

And it wasn't just her trying to make sure no one made a move on you. She would consistently dodge everyone else who tries to slide on her. If it wasn't you, then she didn't want them.

M = memory (what’s their favourite memory?)

Oddly enough, the night in the bar she'd spent with Maria. It was after a really long day training, and they decided to let off some steam. After getting more drunk than what medical professionals recommend, they had spent all night singing karaoke. They didn't get a single word or melody right, but who cares?

N = no (what is their pet peeve?)

The three i’s: Intolerance, Ignorance, Insolence. She absolutely cannot stand (ironically enough) people who have no respect for others. In the air force, she has been treated way less than everyone else just because she had a vagina. And Maria had it worse than her, just because she was black and had a vagina. They both got shit for liking women. The skrulls has their entire planet and families destroyed, just because the Kree people thought they were better than them. She couldn't ever wrap her head around people like that, but she could blast them into a new galaxy :)

O = occupation (what’s their dream job?)

Serving her country. But since she has too much power to be just doing that, she wants to serve, protect and restore the entire universe. She wants to shield everyone from harm and avenge the death of everyone Thanos took from them. (See what I did there?)

P = parent (what kind of parent would they be?)

Oh, Carol would most definitely be the parent who's their kids best friend. She knows how to get down with the best of them, and her children are no exception. Can you imagine what it would be like having a mini carol blasting around the house? All the little (and big) things they would get into? My, Oh, My. Q = questions (do they believe in the super natural? Aliens? Anything along those lines)

What do you think? R = romantic (are they romantic during the relationship?)

Carol puts romanticism to shame. If she isn't constantly sweeping you off your feet,  whether literally or figuratively, then she's doing something wrong.

Flowers and foods from different planets. Vacations to different galaxies. Never having to make breakfast or drive ever again. Long soliloquies when she can't wait to see after a long mission. Never having to go a day without her after they defeat Thanos. Sometimes they can get overwhelming,  but you know she's coming from a place of love.

S = smile (what makes them smile without fail)

Happy you, happy maria, happy Monica,  happy goose, happy life, happy universe, Happy Carol.

T = together (how clingy are they? How long do you two spend together per day on average)

Because of her current task of trying to fix the universe, she doesn't see you nearly as much as she would like to. But when she is without dont expect to be able to shake her off, not that you'd ever want to. She would be all over you with kisses, hugs, cuddles, sex and love. She had to get as much of you as she could before she had to leave again.

U = unbearable (what habit do they have that’s unbearable? What habit do you have that they find unbearable)

You hate to be the kind of s/o where they say they’re absolutely perfect...but Carol is absolutely perfect. There isn’t anything wrong with her. You could ask for anyone better. V = videos (do they take lots of videos or photos during your relationship?)

Surprisingly, yes. Obviously she's not from this era, being born in the 60s and on other planets for the past 15 years. Her first time seeing a cell phone was one thing, but seeing her face on one in real time, doing what she was doing was a different breed. Once you taught her how to use the camera as well as social media (“so you're telling me that I can see what someone else is doing on the other side of the world?) all she could do was document her life. Her life that consisted mainly of you, Monica and Maria was all over snapchat, Instagram and Facebook. It was the small things she chose to record and photograph. The things that were important but not big enough to where she can automatically recall. She chose to record things that she wouldn't even think of on a regular basis, things that would jog her memory and make her smile. Because who knows? Maybe someone else can come along and take her memory again. Or read her thoughts. She needs something that can make her remember.

W = wedding (what was the wedding like?)

Everything the both of you could ever ask for. It was outdoors, both your families (avengers, skrulls, flerkens, the usual) were there. You both work pristine beautiful dresses that had everyone in awe. There wasn't a dry eye in the courtyard as you two were pronounced wife and wife.

X = eXtra (what’s an interesting fact about them that they don’t tell anyone about?)

Psssttt. She loves country music and painting, dont tell anyone.

Y = yuck (what do they hate? Could be a food, sent, word anything)

Besides those special type of people, carol absolutely despises the summer. You would think, living in California, she'd be used to it but no. She hated the sticky sweat and the humid air. Winter was the summer for her. Z = zzzz (how heavy of a sleeper are they? How do they sleep? What mood do they wake up in? Really any sleeping headcanons)

Carol sleeps like she's heavily, heavily sedated. It's quite remarkable, you think. She usually sleeps on her back, or side but she's always attaches to you. Whether you're on her chest or she's facing you with your arms around each other.

Now, I've seen sooooo many people say that Carol is a morning person, but I have to disagree. Do you really think she's gonna do all that work, sleep that hard and wake up chipper? I think not! She does everything in her power to stay asleep, you are not going to object, you hate the mornings too.

It's always a game to see who can sleep in the longest. Spoiler alert: Carol usually wins.