#we both had unwanted dreams

[psirony-darling]

Shoutout to all the Daemyras who are able to rejoice after that season finale. I’m with y’all but I’m also too emotionally exhausted to fully appreciate the reunion right now, because it’s been a LONG summer.

[fingertipsmp3]

Now that I think about it last night’s dream really hit a bingo of recurring themes tbh

[running-with-kn1ves]

A/N: This came to me in some wackass half-dream haze and I felt so strongly about it that I spent way too much time on it :'0

Synopsis: Your annoying werewolf friend with benefits “accidentally” forgets to pull out one night.

CW: NSFW, Fem! Reader, friends with benefits turns yandere, yandere had previous FWB’s, baby-trapping, pregnant reader

Werewolf! Yandere X Fem Reader

“I'm so glad we can fuck like this,” Your, lack of a better word for it, fuckbuddy huffed in your ear. “No falling in love with me, not having to dote on you like an idiot of a boyfriend.”

You tried to block out his manic, cock-driven rants when you first started sleeping with him, how he was surprised you didn't pretend to bat your eyelashes and hold on desperately to his arm like a clingy lover after the first ‘session.’ so many other girls, other partners, other “sleepovers” he's had would get attached, annoyingly so in his opinion. 

A part of his hubris in creating unwanted lovers made you dislike him even further, even if he was good at making you claw at the bedsheets and beg for more of him inside you. 

How could he blame your fellow humans for falling for a beast so much larger, naturally protective and possessive while he was railing them? You were only safe from any kind of affections for him because of how irritating you found him as a neighbor in your apartment complex. Knocking things over with his giant tail, cussing in the middle of the night for breaking yet again another bed, or perhaps bedframe. 

Maybe if he didn't have such a sick fetish for humans like your kind, your frailty as a species and longing for such an obsessive protector, he wouldn't have so many admirers, and simultaneously so many nightly lovers. 

Despite his permissive behavior and attempts to disgust his fuck partners, they came crawling back hoping for more-- for a family and a life with a beast who no human man could match up to,in size, strength, or pleasure. 

but you were always welcome in his bed-- leaving before he tried to kick you out, taking your birth control immediately in a panic after, hardly making conversation in the halls-- it was a great give and take situation. You both satisfied each other, with no strings attached. 

He knew you were irritated by his teasing, by how he gloated in how much you loved his werewolf cock, how you probably couldn't wait to come back for more. You'd shove out of his way, annoyed and sick of his charades. And yet, like clockwork at midnight, you'd be at his door, or he'd be at yours-- and the rest would be history. 

That didn't make him any less insufferable while he was busy making you squeal, however. but it was worth it, the ecstasy you felt after and the seeming addictiveness his pheromones brought you. Your whole week was brightened, you were less irritable-- when you weren't around him, atleast-- and you felt fresher, more like yourself. 

It was hard not to come crawling back for that same euphoria again, even if it hurt your pride to do so. So you kept up a reluctant “friend's” with benefits relationship, Ignoring how he seemed to stop bringing anyone else over, blocking out how he tried to kiss you when you writhed beneath him. Even taking his time when he ate you out like a prisoner devouring his last meal. 

It felt far more…personal. Like you weren’t two strangers who had become accustomed to each other’s beds and ceilings. You didn’t even know what he did for work, what he ate for breakfast, or if he even had family. 

It meant hardly anything to you, knowing there was no chance for more seeing how guarded the werewolf was about relationships, no expectations extending for him to treat you to dinner or kiss you after making you cum. So why was it so physically exhausting when he became more gentle, less apathetic when he roughhoused with you on the bed as his form of foreplay? 

He actually let out a satisfied groan at witnessing the dips and flesh of your body now, smelling you from the sweat on your forehead to your knobby ankles. He grew quiet with animalistic intensity as the bulge in his sweatpants got damper, more constrained. 

What really hit the nail on the head for you was how your “sessions” got slower. He was savouring being inside of you, drawing out both of your orgasms instead of chasing it as roughly as physically possible-- like he had when he first laid eyes on your naked self. He dared to edge you at the cusp of an orgasm a few times, slowing and grinning at the burning in your eyes, your attempts to overpower him with no avail. You thought it was just some twisted game, another irritating part of his obsessive power grab that he’s been trying to wave over your head since you first met him. 

But no, he merely wanted that glare to be on him, to be eye to eye with you. No matter how many times you attempted to stare at the ceiling and prevent from falling into those hazel, speckled eyes, he kept his attention right at yours. He wouldn’t force you to look back, but he would never look away, like some kind of stalker you were letting on your bed and into your pants. 

You had tried to stay away, to ease your addiction of that pheromone-causing high that was making you more aroused and beautiful by the day-- but you caved. And that, was the moment you knew you had officially messed up. Hearing his jaggy, breathy, “You’re mine,” in the midst of his ruts was not as hot and heavy as most would perceive it as. It created a pit in your stomach, a feeling that never went away after he finished. You could only vaguely get up, taking your clothes and finding your way to the door. 

You avoided him indefinitely after that, ignoring the craving inside of you to be intimate with him, to know that he was near and ready to pounce on you. But after weeks of your fucking sessions coming to a strange halt, it was no surprise that the werewolf wouldn’t let you off easy.

“I slammed on your doorbell like 50 times last night. And you didn’t even say hi in the lobby, what the hell? Why’re you avoiding me?” He slammed his rickety green apartment door shut behind him without a forethought. “Listen, you made me drag you in here, okay? I wouldn’t have had to do this if you would just talk to me.”

You sigh, irritated and mind far too busy to deal with his mood swing.

“I wasn’t. I’ve just been busy. I don’t have time for, being here every night anymore.” You shrugged your coat off, trying to remind him you were still in control even if he was blocking your method of escape. 

“Oh, Is that it? Or have you found someone new instead to fuck you, someone else in this apartment building maybe?” He came up behind you, watching as you stared at the bed’s rustled sheets, white linen that you couldn’t tell had been washed or not. 

You let out an exasperated “ugh”. Of course his first thought was that you were busy fucking somebody else. 

But you weren’t given time to argue, to point out his hypocrisy. You were flipped on the bed, staring again at the blurry ceiling you’ve become so familiar with in his apartment. 

“No… You smell just the same, exactly as you should. Like me.” 

He pried your legs open to make room for straddling you, pushing his crotch directly below your jean’s zipper. 

“So what’s the problem? Why’re you so uptight, thinking you’re too good to come ‘round my place.”

He grabbed at your hips, your cotton shirt rolling up as he dug under it. And there, lied the problem. 

“Hey!” You shouted, trying to push his invasive hands off. 

“What--” Pulling down your shirt didn’t matter much, he had already seen it. 

“I was leaving you alone for a reason,” You gritted your teeth, sitting up on the bed. Both of you went quiet for a moment, his eyes wide, but not as bewildered in anger like you expected.  

You spoke quietly, trying to ease the tension. “I’m going to take care of it. I didn’t realize this would happen, I was doing everything right--”

“I can’t believe.. It actually worked.”

You looked at him, not with fear this time, but explosive fury. 

Now it was your turn to shout an unbridled “What!?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck, hair getting so long to the point it brushed against his short fingernails. “I can’t really remember! I just know something took over me, maybe it was the whiskey… but all I knew was, I needed to finish inside of you. I wanted to see you glowing and full, I couldn’t help myself with the idea keeping me going.” 

You were ready to release a full assault on him, eyes beginning to prick with tears of anger and absolute shock. 

“I wasn’t thinking, okay! It’s not like I’m particularly ready to handle a kid either. But.. I guess I wouldn’t mind a few pups; we’re not getting any younger. My mom’s been pestering me a lot lately actually…”

Your mouth sat agape, grabbing a fistful of sheets to prevent from hitting him, which would just end up hurting yourself. 

“I thought you weren’t interested in girlfriends or family or bullshit like that?! Mister, ‘I can’t be bothered with full-blown relationships’ wants to move along and ruin my life?!”

“Baby that was months ago, I haven’t seen anyone else in a long time; and y’know, that’s not normal for me. I think… you’re different. Something about ‘us’ is different. If it’s with you, I don’t mind the idea of seeing you carrying my children. It feels.. God it just sounds so sexy.” 

“ ‘Baby?!’ Okay, we are nothing to each other, I don’t even know where you work, where you’re from-- and all of a sudden you want to start a family together?”

The werewolf winced at your wrath, mildly annoyed at your loud tone and thrashing hands. 

“Is it so outrageous to believe that it’s a species difference? Werewolves have their mates, humans not so much. Is it crazy to believe we’re meant for each other, that I would kill for you? That you were SUPPOSED to be mine, and we only just now found each other?”

You were mind-boggled at the rush of information, not believing your eyes when you saw a near love-struck dog at your feet, the creature you once knew to be an irritating bachelor keen on fucking you ‘till your eyes rolled back, and that was it. 

The stress was getting to you, the fear for your future, the sudden “relationship” you had been thrown into with a man you knew nothing about besides the layout of his apartment and the ridges of his cock. 

“Hey, hey its okay. I promise its going to be alright. I’ll take such good care of you-- you’ll have nothing to worry about, I’ll be the perfect father for our pups; You’ll have a family, someone to take care of you, someone who loves you.” He stroked your head, watching as you furiously wiped away tears of anger and fear. “I’ve never felt that before… but I promise it’s not something I take lightly. I promise, you make my heart throb just as, if not more, than my cock. I promise.”

Was that supposed to be a compliment? Well, there’s not much else you can get from a fuckboy who’s main priority in life had been satiating his lust. 

You mumble something incoherent about needing to get back to your apartment, needing to get away from everything. But if the werewolf heard it, he didn’t acknowledge your desire to leave. 

“I know, I know it’s hard. I’m scared too. But I promise you’ll make the perfect mother. I can see it now, your pretty belly, your needs for me…we’ll be together, it’s new for the both of us. And, on the plus side, I can fuck you now without pulling out...”

You shuddered at the thought, hating the idea of how possessive he was seeming to grow, laying you down as he spooned you from behind, not daring to let go for a moment. Your jeans were clawed to scraps of denim as he tried to shimmy them down, no success other than tearing them into pieces. 

“Why don’t we try tonight? Make you feel good,” The werewolf was running himself between your inner thighs, pressing against your bare cunt before he whispered. “I know you’ve been wanting me too, all desperate without my touch, my scent. Let me take care of you, of us.”

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀⠀ "unwanted" MATRIMONY

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀byakuya kuchiki.

✧ summary to preserve the existence of y/n's clan, she is forced to wed the twenty-eighth head of the kuchiki clan—byakuya kuchiki.

✧ content warnings reader is described as a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. clanhead!reader x captain!byakuya. bleach verse au (no manga spoilers) byakuya is a noble, so they'll both be speaking as such. lowkey giving royalty au vibes. told in first POV — reader's. tropes included: arranged marriage, childhood rivals to lovers. usage of c*nt, missionary position, fingering, nipple play, praise and breeding kink, primal play, terms of endearment — blossom, my love, etc. plot with smut, fluff, and a touch of angst if you squint hard enough. lengthy, but the build up is worth it and necessary!

✧ author's note i don't have much to say, but here's to adding more bleach men to my roster. i knew i wanted to write for byakuya because that's my baby daddy, and now i finally have this idea i hope you guys enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. i would greatly appreciate it. ♡ MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS - DO NOT INTERACT.

 I must make my days do, lazing around in my private chambers as I am bound to a marriage I wanted no parts of. Especially not with Byakuya Kuchiki. 

 Lord Byakuya, as he prefers me to call him.

 Because I am the current and possibly the final head of the L /N Clan, I am forced to complete my duties as such. Those duties entailed me following through with my grandparents final wish: get married and keep our family name alive. 

 Which I have no issue with fulfilling. 

 My dreams are filled with having children with a man that loves me. To extend our family and grow old together where our souls will find each other in another life. 

 However, I hadn’t planned my marriage to be an arrangement that I wasn’t aware of because of an agreement our grandfathers had prior to me being born. 

 It’s shocking, honestly. More so, ludicrous for them to think this was okay. But I just couldn’t deny my grandfather. Not when his palm was in mine, lacking its warmth that’s usually there due to his near passing. 

 I remember tears staining my cheeks and a smile gracing his when he made his final request for me. 

 That was two years ago. Now, I am married. Have been for almost a year and every day I dread my decision. 

 How could I possibly wed a man as cold as Byakuya Kuchiki? We barely speak. We sleep in separate chambers. The most we see each other is during dinner because it would be ridiculous to have the servants prepare us food at different times. But even so, the silence and tension always remains deafening.

 And to make matters worse, we have yet to consummate our marriage. 

 This is something I cannot possibly do on my own. He may or may not be attracted to me, and I am convinced to assume the latter because he never utters a look in my direction. 

 It’s shameful how he treats me. The words he spoke to me the night of our ceremony is a constant memory I do my best to forget but cannot. 

 I’m officially married. Not the way I expected to be, but what other choice do I have? Grandfather has died and I made a promise to him to marry and bear children to keep the L /N Clan everlasting. Even if that meant being forced into marriage with my childhood rival. 

 As we sit side-by-side next to each other, bowing and thanking all of our guests for their blessings, I feel the coldness radiating off Byakuya. Of course, one of us has to be graceful and fake smiles while greeting everyone, so I am left to the task. 

 Byakuya? He doesn’t hide how dissatisfied he is with how this night is going. 

 To an extent, I understand. Forcing to wed after the loss of his wife, Hisana, is not ideal. Despite it being centuries since her soul has passed, I’m almost positive the heartbreak is still present. 

 Maybe tonight reminds him of her? 

 “Byakuya—what is the matter? Is everything alright?” I inquired. I turn to face him and await a response. 

 The squareness of his jawline catches my attention and I think how it was carved by the gods themselves. I’ve known Byakuya since we were both children, and seeing the fine man he has grown into today never ceases to amaze me. 

 His profile is… beautiful. I’m mesmerized by the softness of his pale complexion and how it contrasts with the darkness of his raven colored locks. 

 The further I stare at him, the more heat floods underneath my cheeks and my mouth watering at the sight of his beauty. 

 But when he finally speaks, all of the emotions I’ve felt have completely diminished. 

 “Do you feel no shame being forced into a marriage where your partner feels nothing for you?”

 Since then, I’ve kept my distance from him. I remember the pain that pinged my chest when processing the words that left his mouth. I remember rushing to my chambers after the ceremony and crying until it felt like a million shards of glass were piercing them. 

 Yes, I feel ashamed. But I never expected Byakuya to be so direct with me. He’s certainly not the young boy I remember growing up with. Where we would make everything into a competition. 

 Our swordsmanship. Our knowledge. Our abilities. Whatever can be turned into a challenge for us, Byakuya and I competed. 

 That led him to be a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and twenty-eighth head of the Kuchiki Clan. And me, the twenty-third head of my family. I initially wanted to enter the Shin’ō Academy along with Byakuya, but I chose to stay with my family and oversee our medicine and agriculture. 

 However, even when he entered the academy, he always made time to see me because we were friends before any juvenile competition we made. 

 So why can he not see his wrongdoings in our marriage? Could he at least try for the sake of me fulfilling my duties? 

 All that keeps me company are movements of the servants coming in and out of my chambers, along with the river that flows past my view. 

 As always, dinner is silent. 

 Byakuya has returned to the manor after attending his captain duties, and this is the only time of day where I see him. He is stripped from his formal wear and has been dressed in a simple dark blue yukata that has specks of cherry blossoms scattered across the garment. 

 If I didn’t loathe him so much, I could take my time appreciating how handsome he looks while being in the comfort of his manor. His locks are released from the kenseikan he wears that symbolizes his nobility as the head of the Kuchiki Clan. 

 I occasionally steal glances at him while he eats, and yes, while I do despise being in this forced marriage just as he does, I can’t help but be captivated by him.

 My lady parts wouldn’t allow me to deny the attraction. 

 As I watch my beloved husband, I think of all the sexual acts I would like for him to do to me. Please me in ways I could only imagine he can do. Make love to me and whisper in my ear how breathtaking I am.

 When I look at Byakuya, I think of all the times I’ve spent time with Lady Kyōraku and she tells me how madly in love she is with Captain Kyōraku. How well he treats her, and even with his demands in his new position, they spend much quality time together. 

 She even graced my ears with a few details about a picnic session they recently had where it led to activities that typically aren't done out in public.

 I wonder if my husband will ever be reckless enough to do an act as obscene as that. 

 Not likely. 

 I hate quiet, especially while we eat together. What is the purpose if no words will be spoken amongst each other? No eye contact. No going to bed together after we have finished. Why? 

 Why am I not able to be served dinner in my private chambers? Surely, I can make a request for this going forward. 

 Or�� perhaps there is a different way for me to get him to speak. 

 I take a sip of my cremè sake before clearing my throat. “How did your day treat you, my lord?”

 “It was fine,” he responds, flatly. Should I be shocked that he didn’t lift his chin when speaking to me? 

 “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

 “It can wait. I’m not up for discussion at the moment.” His dismissive tone has annoyance leaching onto my flesh, and I feel like I am on the verge of exploding.

 “Perhaps it cannot. I would like to discuss something with you, my husband.” The authority in my voice grabs his attention and finally, he looks up at me and catches my hardened gaze. 

 He deeply sighs, sitting down his bowl of rice and chopsticks. “What is it?”

 “Maybe we should… begin the process of annulment.”

 His face remains calm. Expressionless, like I always remembered. Does he care enough to show a reaction to me asking for a cancellation of our marriage? 

 This shouldn’t be a difficult decision for him, so why is he taking his time to respond? 

 The longer I wait, the more his lack of response bothers me. It’s not similar to before, where the quiet was filled by the sounds of us eating and the servants coming in to check on us.

 No, it’s the silence where if he does not speak, I will make the decision for him and walk out and permanently leave the manor.

 I think of all the conversations I’ve had with Lady Rukia, his younger sister. And Renji, his lieutenant, about how I should be patient with Byaykuya. That, eventually, he will come around and warm up to me being his wife. 

 But how long?

 How long would it take for us to share a chamber? For us to act like we’re in this agreement together? For him to look at me with the same attraction I have for him?

 How long? 

 It possibly couldn’t be more than a year. 

 This is not the Byakuya Kuchiki I grew up with. No, I wasn’t in his life those five years he was wedded to Hisana due to my own family issues. Maybe I could’ve been there for him and witnessed his change that caused him to be so apathetic. 

 However, this cold man that sits before me… I don’t know who he is.

 “Is there someone else you’re interested in?” He finally speaks, breaking me from my musings. 

 I draw my brows together, confused at his accusation. “Are you… insinuating that I am having an affair?”

 “We’ve been wedded for a year. No acts of intimacy have been done between us. Now suddenly you—”

 “Because of you!” My voice roars, interrupting whatever nonsense that he was about to spew. 

 I refuse to allow him to put the blame on me for the stillness in our marriage. I have tried, time after time, and all I am met with is a man that constantly rejects any type of advances I attempt to provide him.

 So, I continue. 

 “I have given you a year, Byakuya,” I begin, standing over him. He looks up at me and again, his expression remains undetectable. “The day of our ceremony, I have accepted that I will be your lady, and on that night, I was prepared for consummation. But what did you do instead? Humiliate me in front of all our guests with your trivial question!”

 My chest heaves an adrenaline I haven’t felt in a while. Maybe even never, however, leave it to Byakuya to rile me up this way. 

 “If you or anyone thinks I will bear children with a man that looks at me with utter disgust, then you all are sadly mistaken.” Are my last words to him before I rush out the supper room, tears threatening to fall, reminding me of the night we wedded. 

 I feel like such a fool. Disgrace descends upon me and my mind quickly goes to my grandfather and the words he spoke to me on his deathbed. Be strong, child, and fulfill your duties as the current head of the L /N Clan. Bear beautiful children with Young Byakuya and fall effortlessly in love. 

 Oh, grandfather. What am I to do? I can no longer stand to be in this marriage. Not like this. 

 Not with Byakuya. 

 By this time already, I had returned to my chambers and began preparing for bed. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me tonight, so some sleep will do me good. 

 But my suggestion of annulment will continue in the morning. 

 Just as I was moisturizing my body, a knock at the door interrupts my nightly routine and I immediately grow annoyed. 

 I know it isn’t one of the servants checking on me. They know when I don’t want to be bothered with. So that leaves the man that’s responsible for my current state of mind. 

 Ignore him, I say to myself. He’ll think I’m asleep and eventually leave. But no. He barges into my chambers, unannounced, and shuts the door behind him. 

 “Excuse me. I don’t recall giving you permission to en—”

 “Do you think this is easy for me?” He asks, paying no mind to my protests. “Being… married to you.”

 I turned my back to him and continued with the task I was doing before he interrupted. “Save me the boredom and keep it to yourself. No need to further remind—”

 “For a year… I have been… fighting these emotions. These… feelings that have been forming in my chest at the thought of you being my lady.” His admission shocks me… but I remain quiet and stare at him intently through my mirror and allow him to finish. “Do you wish to know how I feel about you, Lady Y/N?”

 My chest slowly heaves up and down and I hold eye contact with him. “How?” I breathed. 

 “You interfere with my routine. Daily… weekly… monthly. Just the thought of you has my mind spiraling.” He moves closer to me with every word he speaks. “A noble. A clan head such as myself, loses all sense of control with just a whiff of your scent. Your jasmine scent that drives me utterly insane. I simply cannot act with honor when I’m around you, so I purposely choose to ignore you.”

 “But… why?” I questioned. 

 “Because you are you, my lady. You may think I don’t keep my eyes on you, but I do. All day… every day. I… watch you sit by the river and simply smile at the sight of nature. From a distance, I hear how kind you are when you speak to others. It’s… enchanting.”

 I slowly release a breath and swallow a thick gulp. “So why is that you don’t speak to me? If I’m, as you stated, enchanting?”

 “Speaking is not what I wish to do with you when we are alone,” he admits. Arousal rushed between my legs at the true meaning of his statement. 

 “It is hard for me to believe that you have an attraction toward me, Lord Byakuya.” As if my words triggered him, he takes long strides to close the distance between us. 

 “Perhaps it’s because you do not look at me the way you look at others. I, too, should be questioning your attraction toward me.”

 I stand to meet with him, but fail miserably due his tall frame towering me. Still, I stand firm with my gaze. “Others such as who?”

 “Shūhei Hisagi,” he deadpans. 

 “You’re being ridicu—”

 “That smile… Your eyes… The look you give him… you have never looked at me that way before. He personally delivers the newsletter to our manor, which he doesn’t have to, but he does for you.”

 “Are you… jealous? Of the small interactions I have with Hisagi a few times throughout the week?”

 It is hard for me to believe that the honorable Byakuya Kuchiki himself is getting flared up over a platonic friendship between Hisagi and I. 

 Sure, there may be a chance he feels more for me than I know, judging by how his cheeks stain a light pink color when he delivers the newsletter. 

 But in no shape or form do I feel the same way, and I would never stoop as low as stepping out in my marriage. Even if my husband treats me like I am a fly on the wall. 

 Though, now, as he stands before me, slightly flustered, nostrils flaring, and a pinched expression—Byakuya is in fact—jealous. 

 I do not know how to feel about this, but I do know it is better than the distance I was getting before. 

 “Does this,” he grabs my hand to slip between us so I can feel his hardened erection, causing me to suck in a breath, “feel like I hold no attraction to you?”

 “Byakuya,” I barely said above a hushed tone. 

 He presses his forward against mine, whispering, “Everyday… I curse myself for these feelings I have for you, to the point where I attempt to avoid you yet fail horribly because I can’t help but watch you from afar.” His hand gently runs up and down my arm, and this bit of contact burns warmth to my flesh. 

 “I feel wrong. Felt, wrong for having such feelings for you, knowing my late Hisana has passed away. I thought my heart went along with her illness, however, you returned to my life unexpectedly.”

 I lick my lips before asking, “Are you saying you… love me, my lord?”

 “I desire you, my lady. Crave you in ways that make me want to act animalistic.” His lips ghost over mine before he falls to my neck and inhales heavily. “I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to have you on my tongue. To hear you beg for me to give you more than what I am giving.”

 “My lord… please.” 

 He shushes me. “Your beauty is beyond words. I have… never seen a rich, deep, golden brown complexion such as yours. You hold yourself with grace, but I know you’re a minx underneath these silk garments.”

 He begins trailing faint kisses along my flesh until meeting with my face once more. I stare at him and take advantage of his ash-colored hues that resemble the sky on a cloudy day. 

 I don’t recall ever being this close in proximity to Byakuya. I’m enthralled by the smoothness of his skin and the color of his lips that reminds me of a thousand cherry blossoms. 

 I want to kiss him. I, too, also want to know what it feels like to have the taste of him on my tongue. Just—

 “May I kiss you, Y/N?” The octave of his voice, slightly lower than usual, breathy with a touch of desperation… it does something to my core. 

 His cheeks flush red and my eyes widen at the sight of him. It feels like this is a fantasy, a moment I thought I would only see in my dreams. He is completely vulnerable, stipped down to where he forgets the formalities and calls my name. He is like this for me because of me. 

 When he is like this–I do not loathe him.

 “You may.”

 Byakuya gently presses his mouth against mine, our lips merely touching as if he is skeptical about what he is doing. He pulls back to look at me and I know desperation is shown on my face. And I know he feels the same.

 How he engulfs my arm with his hand, applying immense pressure to show his desire for me tells me so. 

 My breaths are staggered. I’m thinking, what will he do next? Will he turn around and return to his chambers, regretting this moment ever happened? No. He does not. 

 He caresses my nose with his, breathing me in before meeting with my lips once more. 

 This time, he cuffs my face and deepens our kiss. My hands latched  onto his wrist to hold him in place because I will not allow him to show any skepticism once again. 

 Byakuya takes his time exploring my mouth, but a touch of eagerness is shown when his tongue slips inside of me to get more. Heat hums throughout my body and I feel wetness pooling between my thighs due to the lack of under garments I am not wearing. 

 Is this what it feels like to kiss him? Is it normal for my limbs to grow weak? As if he read my thoughts, he sweeps me off the ground and wraps my legs around his waist. Our heads move side-to-side in unison while we devour each other’s grunts and moans. 

 We head in the direction to my futon and ever so lightly, he lays me down and pulls away from me. 

 “Strip for me.” His order is soft but filled with dominance I can’t be anything but submissive to. 

 I untie my silk robe, slowly until it falls off my shoulders and bares my body. His eyes… where I know Byakuya to be calm and collective during battle, right now a beast rages through him, and I am his prey that he is ready to feast on. 

 My legs spread, revealing my sex that is moist beyond measure. A growl forms in the pit of Byakuya’s stomach and it spreads chills down my spine.

 He palms my breasts while gazing at me and I shudder from his touch. I could believe that this is in fact a dream, but it is not. 

 No longer than a second later, and he pinches my nipple between his fingers. 

 “My lord,” I softly cried, arching my back. 

 “You are art, Y/N.”

 “Address me as your lady,” I demanded. 

 “Apologies, Lady Y/N.” He leans forward to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Is there anything else you would like for me to do?”

 “Strip for me as well,” I instructed, teasingly. 

 His yukata drapes low on his hips and I am met with his slender build. Squared shoulders. A trimmed waist. And an abdomen where I would enjoy rubbing my wetness along that leads to what will bring me pleasure tonight. 

 He stands to completely remove his garments and my mouth floods at the sight of him. His groin, hard and veiny, drips liquid that I’m yearning to taste. 

 Byakuya, as expected, is well trimmed, but leaves just enough hair, perfect to my liking. 

 He’s much larger than I imagined. A size I need time adjusting to, that’s for certain. 

 “Am I up to your liking?” He quips. 

 I hum, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “Perhaps.”

 The smallest chuckle, almost faint, escapes his mouth. “Perhaps…” He mocks, catching onto the lie that I uttered. 

  He kneels down before me and sucks my lower lip into his mouth while he widens my legs even further to bring pleasure to my cunt. Those slender fingers, so long and delicate, slip inside of me and I mewl at the slight intrusion. He massages my walls as if he is exploring, attempting to familiarize himself with how I pulsate around his fingers. 

 I break our kiss to moan his name, and my lord takes advantage of the opening to plunge his tongue in the back of my throat and sink deeper into my cunt. 

 I never expected Byakuya to be well equipped with his fingers this way. Those same fingers that are used for battle are currently being used to bring me to my release. 

 Soon, his lips find the valley of my breasts where he leaves bruises on my flesh with teeth. I whimper so pathetically, shocking myself at the sound that leaks from me. 

 He sucks on my nipples greedily, like a starved man that’s hungry for his lover, and this time, I let out a moan of his name. 

 “Byakuya…”

 He looks at me through his lashes and firmly grips my breast. “Remember, my lady. Address me as your lord.”

 “I am sorry, my lord. Please… I can no longer wait. I want to come.”

 “Where is that fire that was present earlier? Begging?” I clench around his fingers at the sound of him taunting me. 

 He flickers his digits quicker inside of me, pulling such obscene noises from my cunt that mingles with my moans and his praises in my chambers. 

 Byakuya, this time, does not kiss me. No, instead, he ogles me and gently holds my chin in place where I am forced to watch him deliver me a release I’ve been waiting a year for. 

 There was a time where I thought he didn’t have an ounce of attraction to me, and now here he is, pleasing me in a way I haven’t been before. 

 “Oh, Lord Byakuya… I… I’m about to come. I feel a release coming,” I purred. 

  “But I have barely touched you, blossom.”

 I latched onto his wrist and rolled my hips to meet his fingers thrusting inside of my cunt. “I—I know. I’ve been waiting for this… for so long.”

 “You’ve fantasized about me bringing you pleasure?” I nod, causing a small smirk to form on his lips. “Tell me more, Lady Y/N. What else do you want? Would you like my shaft inside your tight cunt?”

 “Yes.”

 “Tell you how breathtaking you look while being filled with me?”

 “Oh, yes. Yes, Lord Byakuya.”  

 The faintest, most gentle kiss is placed on the side of my mouth and I feel the tension at the bottom of my stomach unraveling.

 “Are you prepared to bear my children? To have my come flooding your cunt until it drips out?” He ghosts over my ear. “Will you take me?”

 “Bya… kuya…” My orgasm suddenly crept onto me and I’ve created a mess on his hand. 

 I throw my head back and moan to the gods above. I can’t stop shaking and he continues to pump his fingers inside of me. 

 For a year I thought this man loathed me, but tonight I am proved otherwise. 

 Lord Byakuya has described himself as a madman when he is around me, and it is shown when he doesn’t permit me the time to come down from my release before guiding his cock to my entrance. 

 I look between us, anticipating the moment he enters my body and wondering how I will take him. 

 He attempts to push himself inside, but is met with interference and clicks his tongue. Frustrated at the constriction of my cunt because his cock is aching to feel my walls. 

 “I see she is as stubborn as you are,” he taunts. 

 I slyly smirk at him. “Giving up—Ohh…”

 Byakuya does not allow me to finish my retort before giving me one long thrust between my folds to completely stuff me. My brows knits together at the slight intrusion and hint of pain that’s mended by my wetness. 

 I’m… stretched. How could he fit? He’s so… big. Large. I feel his veins pleasurably grazing me when he slowly begins to pull in and out. My cunt molds around his cock like he’s all she knows and I gasp with every movement. 

 My thighs are pushed back so he could see all of me, to see how I’m swallowing him whole. He swears underneath his breath and seeing Byakuya so vulnerable like this has me pulsating. 

 “You… are amazing, my lady. This cunt of yours… It's perfect,” he declares. “For a year you have been keeping this from me?”

 “More, my lord. Give me a bit more.”

 “So desperate for my come, are you?”

 I eagerly nod and grip his forearms to take his pounding. He wastes no time acquiescing to my request, increasing his thrusts to pull such lewd noises from me.

  I’m almost embarrassed by the loudness of my dripping sex. I’m practically making a mess on my futon and I’m mortified that the servants will need to replace my sheets. 

 Again, his mouth and hands are back on my breast, sucking and circling my nipples until they ache. Byakuya alternates between the two to show equal amounts of love and I have never felt so overwhelmed.

 He drives into me with so much passion while marking me with his teeth and alleviating the pain with his tongue. 

 “When I breed you, you will be completely mine, my love. You will be full of me, carrying my child,” he rasps, rutting into me with more force. “How many will you give me?”

 I gasped. “As many as you want, Lord Byakuya. Just please… make me come again. I feel it approaching.”

 “So come for me, blossom.”

 His thrusts are harsher than before. The head of his cock repeatedly presses my sweet spot and I feel the spark of electricity tingling in my lower back. My breasts are still occupied by his mouth, but they move obnoxiously with the rhythm of his poundings. 

 I cry his name, scream to my lord how wonderful this feels and tears prick the corner of my eyes. His free hand that was on my breast moves to thumb my clit to aid with my near release. 

 Byakuya moans soon joins mine to tell me how my cunt squeezes his cock, nearly strangling. And if it were to lose circulation, I would be the cause. But does he not feel how he throbs inside of me? 

 How he hopes to breed me so we will be bound for life? 

 “You asked me earlier… if I love you. Would you still like to know?”

 “Yes, Byakuya. Tell me… do you?”

 “I do,” he simply answers. “Since the day I saw you staring at the river and smiling at the water flowing. How could I not love you?” He brushes his lips across mine and lowers his voice. “How could I not love you after having you like this? Having your beautiful body, every dip and curve bare underneath me?”

 “Lord Byakuya… I’m coming.”

 “And you sound beautiful when my name drips from your lips. Continue calling me your lord until I have filled you with my come.”

 Over and over, he rocks into me at a frenzied pace, causing my orgasm to burst out of me. Tears stain my cheeks and arousal prickles my flesh from my overwhelming release. However, Byakuya does not let up until his thrusts are uncoordinated, indicating his own climax.

 Coming together as lovers for the first time after our ceremony has me seeing stars in my chambers. His load… it’s heavy. Hot and sticky. It mingles with my own come and creates a mess between us.

 Lord Byakuya, too, is a vocal lover. He comes down from his own release and whispers how ethereal I am. How he would never grow tired of pleasing me and filling my cunt. 

 But it’s the delicacy of him brushing my coils away from my face and placing soft kisses on my cheeks that causes my heart to skip a beat. 

 An hour has already passed, and we have been basking in each other’s presence. His embrace is comforting. It provides me with a warmth that was well needed to fill the coldness beside me when I slept alone at night for the past year. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence. 

 I know the reason for his apology, but ask anyway. “For what, my lord?”

 “For the discomfort I have provided you since our engagement. You didn’t deserve that… Before anything, you were a dear childhood companion of mine and I treated you horribly.”

 His kind words move me. I place my palm against his cheek and look up at him. “We can discuss it some more later on. For now, I would like to enjoy your company. Is that okay?”

 He kisses the top of my head and pulls me further into his arms. “Of course, my lady… Of course.”

thank you for reading. reblogs, comments, and likes are well appreciated. if you enjoy my work, please be sure to check our my masterlist for more. ෆ

[morbidmorbid]

Daryl finally reaching the point of the relationship where he can just surrender to the one he loves. Him, on his knees, face buried in your cunt just because he understands now just how much he loves you and can bare himself to you completely.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ADD TO THIS!!! THAT PERSON HAS SINGLE HANDEDLY LEFT ME FERAL OMG!!!! i need that man, I think we ALL need that man 💳💥💳💥

i got uuuuu and sorryyy i’m so late to this i’m a slow writer plus life but here u go !! um this wasn’t supposed to be.. all of this but i can’t help myself. explodes.

18+

⁀➷

it was challenging to get daryl to sleep sometimes.

eyes peel open, gradual, slow. sleep doesn’t weigh heavy on your lids, hadn’t deemed the chance to for prolonged rest was difficult to come by. still, finding idleness was an almost unfamiliar casual occurring and while slow to get comfortable with, it wasn’t completely unwanted. so when your muscles ache and the death in your face suffocates you, you take the chance of a bed and a falsified home even if it comes to be fleeting.

daryl sits perched on the windowsill, cigarette alight.

his dislike for new or change wasn’t the case now, perhaps it was that constant uneasiness that came with the ignorance of another world. daryl, in this state of the world, didn’t kneel to forged comfort—he’d told you that not with his words but with the emptiness in alexandria where his presence should be. he’s recruiting with aaron, he’s on a run, he’s not here. you understand his reservation and while you often touched convictions with him, this was a bit different, this one felt close enough to right.

you don’t bother maneuvering much, only turning a curious head over in his direction. the tidied sheets beneath you ruffle in contact.

“so that’s why i couldn’t sleep.” you say and it’s light, a quip that gently prods. it’s a joke at him forgoing the spot in bed beside you for hard wood beneath him and smoke in his lungs.

daryl takes a drag and pinches it between fingers. inhale, eyes you, exhale, turns away. “right, sorry.” he apologizes for it in his seriousness, watches your eyebrows scrunch in hilarious disbelief and tips in: “looked pretty damn sleep to me, though.”

he hadn’t bothered to crack a window amidst his smoke and it infiltrates the air. it fills your lungs and keeps you from biting back at him that, yeah, you might’ve been somewhere drowned in a dream—whatever those conjured up to be in this time—and it’s an odd thing. to sleep, to fall in deep enough to become unaware of the real around you, and you stick daryl on that development. perhaps things wouldn’t be that simple or easy, there wouldn’t be the opportunity, the comfortability in letting go for a breath.

if not for him perched right where he sits against the glass and looming around you in your vulnerability, likely ignorant to the umbrella of defense he creates.

the sun is long gone and doesn’t burn against the glass like before you’d dozed, only now the enveloping darkness.

“when did you get back?” you ask. his crossbow leans dirty against the wall near the threshold, arrows bloodied. daryl hasn’t shaken the vest or his shoes, nor the dirt on his hands and wedged beneath his fingernails. you reckon thirty minutes, though daryl surprises you.

another drag. “sun was still shinin’ over ya.” he says. it’s been a long while, then. had he eaten? or had he’d smoked his few stale cigarettes and chewed on his thoughts in the stretch of time and that itself is an upsetting possibility.

you purse your lips and your locked fingers dance against eachother, thoughtful. while he seems as he always is, he isn’t. there’s a reason behind everything, the good and the bad, and this one fell between both. “can you come over here? i’m cold.” daryl was a cautious man with little trust and that was good in this world, but right here his hesitancy to pursue not only this false town but you as well was not as pretty as good reasons go.

but that was selfish thinking and unfair to daryl’s morals.

he watches you and years prior he’d been unreadable, but you’re accustomed and he looks like someone who doesn’t believe your words. “it’s sweatin’ balls in here.” he unnecessarily shoots back. daryl, always running behind with your jokes, or maybe he understands but shies away from what you’re asking. daryl was always someone who’d have to work back into accustoms if detached for a while, always slow to reciprocate—even though he so strongly did—lest you’re persistent.

“well, i’m shivering.” you’re saying as you make to rub two hands together to search for warmth. warmth you didn’t need for it already filled you, but a tactic is a tactic.

daryl scoffs a laugh that’s too quiet to catch, but it’s seen. he stubs out his cigarette then, marks the wood in an ugly manner. when he makes the small walk towards the bed, towards you, you’re meeting him halfway as you walk on knees to the edge.

he stops when you speak up. “you’re not getting in bed with all that shit on, are you?”

“was.” he confirms and shrugs and it’s humorous to see how serious he is, how he doesn’t grasp onto the issue.

“take it off, it seems uncomfortable.”

“i ain’t uncomfortable.”

“daryl.”

daryl could be good with orders—could be, a meticulous sort of arrangement—when he agreed with them. this was a mixed case whereas he seemed pulled between the two; the look in his eyes and the firm stance before you screaming i’m fine, i’m staying put. then the other end of the stick with what he eventually complied with in the form of slouched shoulders, guard down, capable of finding that same comfortability in your ways that strived for his growth that he does in his own ways.

still, he grumbles. “ya killin’ me.” and then his jacket goes, his vest, his worn stitched gloves.

you know that daryl prefers to be prepared no matter the situation, doesn’t like to be bared to the world for not even a breath and his heedfulness is commendable. though right here in the warm box that isn’t your inauthentic bedroom but your presence, you recognize his needs are a broad category and this is one of the many.

daryl needs his own relief to come back to despite the state of the world—everyone else has their own, whether in another or in themselves or in between, and daryl deserved just as much.

when he goes to indulge you, two hands coming down against the mattress, you dodge. “don’t forget your shoes, dar.” and he’s all eye contact before finally crouching down. “no shoes in bed, it’s barbaric.”

“guessin’ i oughta get my underwear off, right?” he smiles a small one, sarcastic. “beat ya to the punch.”

you shrug for the joke and he scoffs at it. he bends at the knees nevertheless, lightly hitting the floor and fingers reaching to shove themselves in the heel of his shoe. one goes and joins the pile, but before he can twin the other foot, you’re bringing a hand to his hair. he’s a bit sweaty there, strands darkened in consequence and instead of grimacing, your chest swells with pride, gratitude; daryl’s a fighter and it shows even in the smallest things.

“thank you, by the way. really.” you say when you notice he’s halted his movements. he doesn’t budge even when you move from strand to strand, fixing him, watching his forehead come into view. his brows and shoulders remain lax which is good, encourages you. had it been before he would’ve been a quick hand on your forearm with alarm, unfamiliar in the intimacy, hesitant.

he doesn’t look up yet. “thankin’ me for?” and against your palm he leans.

“i don’t know, everything—for fighting.” you elaborate and it’s then that he’s lifting his head, squinted eyes sharp.

daryl was always shy eyes when commended. he holds your gaze in increments now and you take the moment to let your hands travel. they’re slow and deliberate where they land along the expanse of his jaw and against the hairs on his face. daryl moves with you in whichever direction you think to turn him, and while it’s cute and certainly heavy intimate development on his part, you don’t call him out on it for he embarrasses easily and having him shy away now was not a good call.

“ain’t just me.” he finally says and since he doesn’t like spotlight, “it’s you, michonne, rick—“

“i know.” you cut in. daryl reads into your simple response almost immediately if the expression he holds is telling; a bit taken aback, slightly flustered, understanding. there’s something in your chest that screams pride when daryl comes to realize when you’re making things about him, when you’re specifically singling him out, when you’re picking out all of his goods and positives and displaying them before himself.

daryl preens under your touch. the touch of yours that continues to travel, dancing in his hair, brushing against the skin of his face, running knuckles over cheekbones and forehead wrinkles. every crevice, every bump different. it’s distracting for daryl, you learned prior, lures his mind to a standstill, tugs the words back down his throat. he’s typically left with little to say to you when you’re on him like this, instead speaks with his eyes of a solace he finds between the both of you.

“your hands.” he eventually comments.

“my hands?” although now under scrutiny, they don’t pause their exploration.

“warm. said you were freezin’.”

your lips purse then at his delayed reckoning, laughter at the tip of your tongue. it slips despite your efforts, low and loose, makes daryl squint in situational ignorance. at the prison, daryl had once complimented your laugh under and against the metal of the cell beds, had thrown a ‘nevermind’ in quickly after you’d cooed at him for it.

“well, of course they’re warm now.” you bring them to his neck now, tip of your thumbs caressing his ears. “still cold all over, though.”

and instead of questioning you further, instead of coming up to engulf you in a hug, daryl brings his face into your abdomen. it’s not a punch of air that you lose, but your ability to form coherent thoughts. it’s him not exactly nuzzling, but breathing steadily into the cloth of your shirt, soft inhale, soft exhale. this means something because it always means something.

daryl hides the sudden salacious fervor on his face in the shield that your body creates. it’s obvious, so obvious, because he’s strong and unmoving where you attempt to lift his head.

while it is sudden, the dots seem to connect—daryl, with his lack of space to ever position himself to submit, does so openly right now because there is an opening for it. while he so genuinely kneeled for his shoes, you picked up on the way his pupils dilated when he did find your eyes—ever so brief during those three second variables. it was then that you knew.

“everything okay?” you ask lightly. everything is okay, daryl is so evidently okay which is why he pursues this. you ask anyway, though. daryl says he likes verbal confirmation and reassurance from you and he’d be a hypocrite to not like for you to reciprocate.

“mhm.” it’s muffled against your body which begins to gradually curl around him, between your legs which have swamped him in. “just ain’t comfortable down here.”

“really? you aching already?” you retort with a low laugh.

daryl doesn’t say anything else, nor does he make to stand.

“dick’s hard.” is what he comes up with and it’s so sudden and not at all vague.

you’ve thought it to be the case, so it doesn’t surprise you much. it was apparent the moment he hide himself in what you’d call shame. shame that looked to only follow him in the structure of built up carnal strain that’d been canned inside of him. daryl behaved like he didn’t have a clue that he had it or how to exactly deal with it. when the relationship had sprouted into a much more personal manner, it was always you who’d ‘handle’ daryl even when he struggled finding it in himself to.

he’s bringing hands up and they’re situating themselves on your waist. his hold isn’t suffocating, but it’s tight, fidgeting where he tries to keep his energy levels even.

“if you want something, daryl..” you begin slowly, anticipating where this will take you both. where your hands still sit in daryl’s hair, you pull again and he finally gives way and holy shit.

“ask ya for it.” he finishes, and before you can ponder too long why he already looks so fucking out of it, he’s already beating you to it. “think i busted.” he grunts around the words, fingers twitching against you and he forgoes his hold to wipe the back of his hand against his lips. it looks to be a habit that has budded from his nerves which he strives to conceal.

“did you?..”

daryl curls his lips inwards, another habit, adjusts his knees on the floor. “well, it ain’t piss.“

“oh. you wanna clean up and come up here? we can just—“ daryl was weird with embarrassment, and while it was fun to poke and prod, he’d probably string himself dry thinking back on this, so you try to move it along—not mention it for a moment longer.

“nah.” i’ll stay here is what he says with his actions, bringing his face back to your abdomen, kisses through the shirt. despite his own interference daryl is still there; he shows that he still feels the sensual crave all within himself with the way he simply picks back up regardless of the mess in his pants.

admittedly, it brings a slight tremble down into the pit of your stomach.

you’re whispering out a light okay as he proceeds, hands at your waist shifting and bringing your shirt upwards, tidbits of flesh now exposed. it seems purposeful because he’s then all dry lips and scratchy facial hair against your skin, drinking you in, dirty hands squeezing where they can.

you’re calling out his name to which he responds to with a stronger aggression in action; oddly firm presses of his lips evolving into these tiny nips of teeth, pushing against you enough to send you back onto your palms.

rare were the moments that daryl’s usually subdued needs make such a sudden head. when he’s functioning one moment, high off plenty cigarettes in his normal, and the next he’s chasing you lewdly like he’s just always been without fornication—and he has.

daryl advances south, hands still at your waist, breath fanning over your pants. they’re of comfort with no zipper or buttons to act as a task to undo, so daryl gets to you easily. his hands shake a little as he hooks fingers in the waistband of your pants, not all nervousness but moreso an eagerness that it seems he struggles keeping at bay.

though despite this, he handles you with a certain gentleness and allows himself this moment of vulnerability, of exploration in a way that leaves you both bare in every sense.

your bottoms pull down and you help to kick them off and away.

“gentle.” you say when he stuffs a sweaty face directly into you, hands cupping your legs from beneath, spreading them enough to fit himself comfortably between. “i’m not as flexible as i used to be.”

“can’t tell.” he shoots back in his playfulness that is typically delivered dryly.

he shifts on his knees again, but doesn’t seem entirely too bothered, instead doesn’t spend another second without a tongue pressed wetly against you through the fabric of your garment. he laps at the cloth, grunts incoherencies, presses thumbs into your under thigh, tries to hide the not so subtle clenching in his abdomen. he’s hard again, straining and obvious, at the mercy of his body’s natural instinct to relieve the pressure by humping, rutting, fucking up into anything, searching for something.

“daryl, daryl.” you hiss when he tries to get his mouth on you whole down there, not stalling for anything. “shit, you—let’s take it slow.”

and you know in his current state it’s absurd to ask, he’s already gone.

but still, he hears you because he’s reluctantly pulling away, obedient.

“alright, now take them off, please.” you order, bringing a hand to his hair again. it creates a sort of stability for yourself, whilst for daryl it only tips him more towards the edge.

and since daryl runs on orders, he’s quick to move again with hands sliding you out of the underwear and down your legs. you assist with kicking them off and away, and daryl doesn’t give you a breath in between because he’s a wet tongue on you in an instant.

it’s like something shifts in him—like something breaks, gives way to a heavily chased after relief—seeing the way his shoulders slack. you gasp, feeling the pleasure ripple up your spine, sit hotly in your gut.

“look at you, oh my god.” you begin to taunt and it’s s bit broken off, but still holds its weight. “you look so right down there.”

daryl gives a groan in return, fingers squeezing in protest, but you know he believes it, too.

your chest fills with a breath when he pops off, and it’s beautiful how concentrated he seems with the task. for once, his cheeks tint an airbrush of pink, featherlight and detailing to you just how aroused he is.

to use emphasis, in his still state, you use the opportunity to reel him back in at the hair. it elicits something loud and ruined out of him—a moan, a whine almost. he breathes through his nose when he’s tongue and teeth and cheeks all over you again, and it makes your back arch. the sounds he produces alongside the wetness that you are has you bringing ankles to his backside, locking him in and daryl’s moans are muffled and slightly garbled in reaction.

“you’re gonna—“ cracked. “you’re so good for me, you’re gonna make me cum.”

at that, he pursues you heavier now. like he’s eager to taste you, like he wouldn’t miss it for the world, daryl brings a hand up to rub what he can’t get. it’s wet and nasty and lewdly noisy, and your moans alike. with him using two times the pleasure, it sends you over just as fast.

your eyes squeeze tight as your body racks with the aftershocks, and daryl is ragged breaths somewhere in the void and you’re not sure if it’s him coming as well or the hand deep in his strands has him that strung out.

the wound up muscles in your body release as does your hold on him, and you’re falling to your back against the mattress.

it’s a while before your eyes are peeling open again, head lulled a bit. daryl stands to his feet again at the foot of the bed, cracked bones and all.

“hey.” he starts quietly, haphazardly wipes his mouth. he hovers over you laid out on the bed, arms encasing your head and body heat transferring. “we alrigh’?” his concern etches outside of his tone and into his hot hand that now covers your cheek and ear. his thumb runs over your moist cheekbones and his eyes stick to yours like syrup.

you nod. “yeah.” you assure and watch his expression ease up. “i’m definitely alright. are you?”

he mimics your nod. “mhm.”

“don’t.” you say when he attempts to embrace you entirely. “shower. both of us.” and when he doesn’t respond—“shower. you came twice in your pants.”

daryl shoves his face in the crook of your neck then, ears red.

when the water eventually does come down on you both, it’s shameless in its lack of purity. daryl, despite the night, used a handjob from you underneath the stream before he’d grown shaky in the shoulders and grumpy in the tone, apprehensive in his age. (“ain’t built for another, you’re killin’ me.”)

and he would know himself best because he’s droopy eyes and clean hair against the pillows afterwards, sleep weighing him down. he’s still like he doesn’t feel your gaze, but squints open an eye when you speak.

“i lied about being cold. wanted you in bed.” you smile to contain laughter.

daryl scoffs. “mhm, well .. shit worked.”

[lacollectionneuse1967]

slip of the tongue part 2 - jealous

Theseus Scamander x Reader

“He was all over you,” he hisses. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.”

summary: after confessing your feelings for (and sleeping with) your boss, theseus, you join his brother newt's team of wizards attempting to thwart the notorious gellert grindelwald. when you're tasked with distracting and seducing a powerful dark wizard on your first mission, theseus gets uncharacteristically and fiercely jealous.

fem!reader. theseus scamander x reader.

category: smut with plot

warnings: 18+ smut, (light) mdom/femsub elements, unprotected penetration, semi-public sex, jealousy/possessive behavior, also the reader suffers brief unwanted sexual advances in a scene

part one / part two

Your dreams are uninventive. Your nightmares are even less so. 

Often you are hounded by dogs: drooling, snapping canines, bloodthirsty past the point of cognizance, they’re more open mouths than animals. Or, you’re standing on the hill where your old orphanage used to sit in North London, barefoot on the roof while the rest of London floods below, water rising, you know you’re going to drown. Or some other tired, boring allegory for your past catching up with you, at last, your blessings, your wand, crumbling to ash—you know what the dreams mean and they don’t scare you anymore. 

But tonight you are perfectly dreamless. The dream dogs, the wintry world outside, the sound of the wind whistling through the empty London streets, it cannot touch you now. The fireplace is crackling and warm orange light spills in beneath the door from the living room.

Theseus’s arm is draped over your body, your head is on his chest. Every part of your body where your bare skin meets his buzzes with contentment. His room is like a sanctuary, his arms a house that holds you. 

You don’t think you’ve slept for even a full hour. It’s still dark outside when you feel Theseus jostling your shoulder. 

“Y/N. Wake up, darling.” 

You sigh in response and are about to put up a fight, but when you meet his eyes they’re full of sore regret, apologetic. He wouldn’t ask you to leave his bed unless it was important.

You emerge from the covers and start to stretch. 

“What time is it?”

“I’m sorry, love, but it’s nearly four in the morning. We have to be going, it’s urgent.” 

You turn to look at him, he’s raking a hand through his hair, sitting up in bed.

“Did you sleep at all, Theseus?” You ask incredulously.

“No, too much to think about. And besides, I knew if I slept I wouldn’t be likely to wake. Better you sleep…”

Your heart wrenched. In a swell of affection, you went to him, crawling back over his body on the bed.

“No,” he groans, but his hands come around you, sliding down to your hips, anyway. You kiss his neck, raking your teeth over the skin there.

“Don’t do this to me,” he anguishes. His grip tightens on your hip, it’s meant to be chastising but it makes you want him more. “Please. We need to leave, Y/N.”

It wasn’t easy letting go of him. You know he would’ve given you what you wanted with enough persistence. 

“Okay, okay!” You relent, kissing his mouth with a smile. “I’ll stop terrorizing you now.” You leap out of bed again without complaint. 

When he stands he’s serious-Theseus again, your boss. And you love him still. 

For his sake, you pretend not to notice his erection in his boxer shorts. It looks painfully hard. 

“Get dressed,” he says to you before turning to the bathroom. “We need to get to Hogsmeade.”

It was wonderfully strange to see him like this—hair in wavy disarray, looking soft and subdued, barefoot and in his t-shirt. You want to appreciate the sight, you want to talk about what had happened between you and all that had been said. But his mind is elsewhere, preoccupied, and it seems you are both running late.

At your insistence, he lets you apparate to your apartment for a change of clothes, but then the two of you are off, running down the stairs of his building into the dark world below.

————— 

Hogsmeade is more of a detour. There is an incognito meet-up organized with none other than Professor Albus Dumbledore. You’d, mercifully, taken a train--the Hogwarts Express. Theseus mentioned that Dumbledore was being watched by the Ministry, and that there were anti-apparition charms put up around the village and the castle.

You were just grateful to see him sleeping, at last, on the way there. 

It was barely daylight when the two of you arrived, the sun bleak and pink over the Highlands, providing no warmth. You were grateful for the coffee you'd nursed on the train, as you were grateful to relieve yourself of the confidential documents from the Ministry. Their weight was an invisible one for you, evidence of your betrayal.

"Some aspiring Auror you are," you thought to yourself, bitterly.

“I tried to organize them for you. I started to, actually,” You supplied sheepishly when Dumbledore regarded the haphazard stacks of parchment, laid out on one of the tables in what you assumed was his brother's inn.

Dumbledore smiled warmly at you regardless and thanked you sincerely. 

When you step out of the inn, you look to Theseus just as he looks over his shoulder at you. You're both more or less sleepless, and cold, and it seems the both of you have betrayed the Ministry and embarked on a hopeless mission, without many allies in the world.

But you were a united front.

It surprises you when he says, so earnestly that the tension in his shoulders seems to deflate, “God, I missed you. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you.”

You blush, but don’t break his gaze. You’re not afraid to let him see you anymore. 

“Where to, Mr. Scamander?”

He flexes his jaw like he’s not thinking about the plan at all, like he’s thinking about last night. But then, with a sigh, the moment is broken. 

“Germany,” he says. “It’s time you meet my younger brother and the rest of the resistance.” 

He says ‘resistance’ like it's some inside joke, some funny jab. You don't understand it until you arrive at the hotel room in Berlin. 

-----------

Other than the hair, that uncommon shade of reddish, honey brown, and the apparent kindness and sense of humanity, Newt is nothing like Theseus. In fact, when he comes over to greet you he can hardly meet your eye, his head is half bowed in the other direction, his mouth a nervous, flat line.

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I was sure that you'd do the right thing when Theseus sent you his letter. It was... very brave of you."

You look to Theseus in sharp amusement, eyes sparkling.

"Was there ever a question of whether or not I'd betray you? Did you really think there was a chance I'd turn you over to the authorities?"

Theseus places a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "You know if I were to die I'd prefer it to be at your hand anyway."

You want to roll your eyes, but you're not sure to what extent he's joking.

You shake Newt's hand. You're soon after introduced to a muggle baker named Jacob and an astute, somewhat brash Auror from America named Tina. You're not much of a people-person, but you find that you like them both, immensely. They feel genuine, the sort of strong, singular characters that couldn't deceive anyone if they tried. That is why Newt's explanation of your task for the night sends a bolt of dread down your spine.

"We need to need to retrieve a magical object from a German Minister's office. I-I can't say much, it's better you don't know, but it's safe to assume that a large portion of the German Ministry of Magic has already fallen. Helmut, Vogel--and who knows how many others are under the influence of Grindelwald."

"Which German Minister's office?" Theseus says. His hands are in his pockets, he's leaning against the windowsill, the picture of nonchalance, his hair swept back. He's so handsome you could cry.

Newt ignores him. "Now, tonight may be our only chance. There's a diplomatic gala at the ministry itself. I can get us all in, Pickett and I can handle sneaking into the office itself, but there are five people who know about the object being at the ministry, who will be on the lookout and who need to be distracted until we're out."

He doled out assignments swiftly. Theseus was to distract the head of security. Jacob, the two waitstaff who served as the Minister's private informants. For Tina, the German Auror, Helmut. And for you? The Minister himself.

"Which Minister, Newt?" Theseus asks again, the edge in his voice unmistakable, though you don't understand it.

"Baron Dietrich, the Minister of Finance," Newt says at last.

Dietrich. Most of your work for Theseus was domestic, but you try to remember what you can. Dietrich was some Bavarian-born descendent of the aristocracy. Hedonistic, high society. He fought in the war, but gained his reputation in the drinking clubs of Berlin. Even you knew he was ruthless, notorious. A brute of a man without much respect for the law. That was the extent of what you knew.

Newt is rushing to explain before you or Theseus can speak.

“Please, Y/N, Theseus." He looks between the two of you, trying to appeal to both. "Dietrich, h-he likes…he likes beautiful women and he-"

Theseus crosses the room to his brother in a single stride. "Yes, and do you have any idea what he likes to do to those beautiful women, Newt?” He's seething. “Even everyone at the British Ministry knows he brutalizes them."

“I-I wouldn’t ask her if it weren’t absolutely necessary. So long as she’s able to distract him at the party, keep him interested there, at the party, nothing will happen to her—to you!” Newt turns to you now, addressing you directly. “I’m sure of it…”

Theseus sucks his teeth and turns away from his brother, still fuming. “Absolutely not. You will not send her away from my side, that’s final. Not to that man.”

“Theseus, please-"

“She’s muggleborn, Newt! Do you know what men like Baron Dietrich do to wizards like her? If he found out, if any one of Grindelwald's followers did, she'd be killed.” Theseus is speaking with such firm authority, but you know him well enough to detect the barely concealed panic in his eyes, the fracture just beneath the fortress. “Send Tina instead, she’s an Auror.”

“But Y/N is exactly the sort of girl that Dietrich would be-"

“I want to be an Auror too,” your voice sounds strange to your ears when you find it. It has a clear, confident quality, musical and lucid.

Theseus looks to you in shock. You wonder if he knew about the promotion you’d been offered at all, if he knew all you’d sacrificed to stay close to him—your very dreams dashed to pieces. From his expression, naked and open as day, he did not. 

“I can do it,” you make an effort to sound settled. Unshaken.

Being a young, vulnerable girl in the streets of East London, at the orphanage after, and then being a woman at the British Ministry as an adult, you’d dealt with plenty of over-friendly and entitled men. Boorish men were everywhere and were not uniquely monstrous. You hoped Baron Dietrich wasn’t either. 

"It's settled then," Jacob claps his hands together, seeming relieved that the tension between the two brothers has evaporated. Theseus is slumped over, leaning back on the nightstand in apparent defeat. "We're going to a party!"

Tina places her hand on your arm, leading you towards the closet. She doesn't seem to be terribly affectionate, so you're grateful to her for extending you this small kindness now.

"Here, Y/N," She says. "Let's get you dressed. We have plenty of time to go over the plan. It'll be okay."

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

Your outfit, "disguise" you suppose, is nothing like the subdued robes of your companions. You don't know why you're surprised when they ask you to enter the ministry ten minutes after them, alone.

The skirt of your dress is flowy and short, like a dancer's, ending just above your knee, something that might've been acceptable a decade prior, given the fashion trends. It's made of delicate petals of off-white fabric, adorn with tiny silver and pearlescent beads, glittering. Meant to draw attention. It's sleeveless and the top is breathtakingly form-fitting, pinching in your waist and hugging every curve of your body, but you are gratefully afforded an elegant high neckline. Silk, ivory-colored, wrist-length gloves that do nothing for the cold cover your hands and a fur half-coat is draped over your shoulders. Your lipstick is a deep red.

You understand what it means, these luxury items, your styling, the fact that you were instructed to enter alone. By no design of your own, the implication was that you were an escort, a madame of the night. No wonder Newt had Theseus leave the hotel first, before he could catch a glimpse of you. You didn't dare imagine his reaction.

As you enter the gala, handing the doorman your fabricated invitation without a glance, every head turns to you. Chatter stills as you pass, the women gawk and the men look stricken, hungry as the pack dogs in your dreams. Plates and trays sail overhead and the instruments play on, unattended. The German Ministry of Magic has spared no expense.

Patrons lean in close and speak hushed and anxiously. You assume the upcoming election for the highest office of the International Confederation of Wizards is on everyone's mind.

You head for the bar with your head held high, hoping it doesn't show on your face, your discomfort at being so seen. You were told Baron Dietrich would be at the bar with some of his men. With a trembling, gloved hand you motion the barman over and order a drink.

You don’t dare look for your friends. You assume things are going swimmingly for them, but for you? You are drowning in your finery.

You’re not even alone for a moment before the wolves descend. You should've known a man like Dietrich would come find you.

"Mädchen!" He approaches you partially, but expects you to come the rest of the way, waves you over with a meaty hand. When you raise an eyebrow, haughtily, he switches to English.

"Girl, come here." The timber of his voice is low, gravelly. He has a heavy brow, his hair is thick and peppered with gray. The gray does nothing to diminish the impression of his strength. In a fight without your wand, he could have your neck snapped, broken and rolling around its stem, in a heartbeat.

You walk over, leaving your drink at the bar, untouched.

The gala is housed in a mammoth, marble room, twenty foot ceilings held up by smooth columns, something that reminds you of Gringott's. But around the massive bar at the room's center are half-circle booths and tables, spiraling out like lily pads. You slide into Dietrich's booth and his arm goes around you immeditely.

He smells chokingly of cigars, a perfumey, sickly sweet smell. He is a bloated, thick-limbed man. No, you couldn't have fought him off. There are so many uniformed men at his table that some of the younger ones have to stand. With a sting of shock, you don't see how you could be of any influence on these men at all, they hardly see you as a person, aren't speaking to you. You hope Newt and Pickett work quickly.

Another young man, dressed in what looks like a soldier's uniform, slides into the booth after you, sandwiching you in next to Dietrich. You let out of noise of shock and begin to push him off you when Dietrich grabs both your wrists.

"Don't be fussy. This is my young friend, newly recruited. I plan to make him my protégé."

The other men slap the boy over the shoulder, jostling him in congratulations. He smiles meekly. You could hate him for that meekness. That pathetic deference to power.

"We'll share you tonight, of course." Dietrich is looking at the boy, not you. "In my office."

Dietrich's hand clamps over your exposed thigh and his fingernails jab into the fat of your thigh. You don't react to the bright bite of pain. The other boy begins to lean into you, breath hot over your neck.

Whatever small bird lives in your ribs begins to beat itself against that cage, flailing and thrashing.

"No!" You can't help the edge of panic in your voice. Dietrich is too strong, so you don't bother, but you shove the boy off of you and out of the booth without much effort. The boy stumbles out, dumbfounded.

Dietrich snatches your wrist with real fury, bruisingly.

"What?! You're for sale, aren't you?" He won't hurt you in front of his men, not at the gala, but his face is so colored with anger that it's nearly purple.

"Please," there's a real plea in your voice when you say it, you try to cover it up with a hurried smile, you try to look charming. "Dance with me, sir?"

That seems to sedate him. He looks irritated, but pleased by your attention. At least he won't be able to molest you in front of all his colleagues and superiors.

He leads you to the dance floor and the entire way your mind is racing, scrambling for purchase, trying to figure out how you're going to keep him out of his office. He made it clear he had plans to go there later tonight with his men. With you.

And he was an even cruder man than you'd thought, he'd made no attempt to even flirt with or seduce you. His interest in you was moreso entitlement, the same interest a predator has for a slab of meat.

Your wand, concealed on your person, gave you little comfort. Newt had asked that you did not reveal yourself, didn't make a scene. But if it came down to it, you would fight Dietrich rather than submit to him. He was more than repulsive. He wanted to hurt you.

"Please," you think to yourself. "Please, God, don't make me-"

You startle at the large hand that grips your waist and spins you away, just before you reach the dance floor.

Dietrich, abandoned, turns in flustered outrage and is swallowed by the crowd. You're being whisked away before he can fully react, Theseus guiding you deftly out of the overfull room of diplomats.

You sob with relief. "Theseus-" you start, but he's leading you deeper, still, away from the gala.

It's not until you're in some pitch-dark, gaping mausoleum of a hallway that Theseus finally stops, pressing you delicately against the wall, holding your face in his hands like water, like something precious. He examines your body.

"Are you okay?" He asks, pressingly.

You could cry out in joy, the sight of his face is balm-like, giving you a familiar relief.

"Yes, yes!" You reassure him. "Is it done? Did we do it?"

Theseus nods in confirmation, still looking over you for injuries, turning over your wrists in his hands.

"The others are already out. It was quick. No one noticed a thing, we probably took too many precautions this time around..." He finally meets your eyes. The look in his is dark and indecipherable. When he swallows, it's raggedly. "You're really okay, Y/N?"

"Yes," you answer, hesitant at the intensity of his look. "Why?"

Theseus presses his body against yours harshly, you don't even have time to moan before he's swallowing it with his mouth. Your hands are all over him, but he gives you no room to move, it's as if he doesn't notice, the way he's pushing you up against the wall, kissing you like he wants to consume you.

"You're so damn beautiful," he mutters. "When you walked in I almost blew my cover just to go to you."

"Theseus," you pant. You're needy, you want him to keep kissing you but he's leaning his neck back, pinning you against the wall but holding himself away so he can look at you when he runs his warm hands from the backs of your thighs up to your ass. He hooks his fingers around the waistline of your panties and pulls them down so they're only hanging onto you by one of your ankles.

He leans in for another kiss, just as deep and wretched as the last, just as maddening.

He pulls away again with a pant.

"Your dress is too damn short," he curses under his breath.

"Are you angry at me?" You ask quietly, still writhing against him, desperate for friction, but suddenly self-conscious.

"No, no sweetheart," he soothes. "Not at you. You did so good. Such a good job." His praise has you leaning into his palm, which is cupping the side of your face.

You whimper, "I want you." You realize it's true as you're saying it. You can't ever lie to him. "I want you," you repeat, more insistently.

“He was all over you,” he hisses against your ear. “I am not a possessive man, but I could’ve killed him then and there. He doesn’t know what’s mine.” He punctuates the last word with a squeeze to your backside. 

"Theseus," you breathe out, helplessly. You can't believe this is happening. The wing of the German Ministry that you're in is completely dark, you can barely make out the tapestries and curtains hanging loose from the walls. But there's distant light at the end of the hall, and dim voices and music filter in and out from the gala a few rooms over.

But you want him to keep touching you more than you know better, know you should stop. More than anything.

He starts to hike your dress up, his movements urgent, when he stops abruptly. The spot where Dietrich's nails dug into your upper thigh is small, but he drew blood.

Theseus pauses, loosens his grip and lets you slide down the wall. With a slow-thudding heart you briefly fear he'll be so furious he'll run back to the gala, to find Dietrich, but he only bends down and kisses the wound, just barely, lips ghosting over skin, so gently you could cry. Kneeling before you, he looks like a prince, a knight. He's careful to avoid the wound when he lifts you back up against the wall.

You can't help but stare down at it, in awe, when he takes his dick out. Your body still thrills at the sight of it, there, huge, resting at your entrance. Theseus grinds a slow circle, sliding it against your wet folds, against your clit. You just stare.

He flashes you a lazy smile.

“What? You want me to help you put it in?” 

You moan, audibly. You're not doing a very good job at being discreet, but how can you when he says things like that to you and expects you to answer?

"Yes, please," you close your eyes, too flustered to meet his burning gaze when you say the words.

He grips the base of his cock and guides it into your pussy. Clamps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noises you're making, you whimper dumbly against his palm. Only releases his hand from your mouth once he's fully seated inside of you. The stretch is so big you know it would hardly take any movement at all for him to break that tension and make you come, drive you mad, unravel you completely. Just a few rocks against the wall, a few rolls of his hips and you'd be brainless and spent, crying out his name. You're already dripping around him. But you want to last longer for him this time.

He's looking directly into your eyes.

“You’re taking it, Y/N. You can choose where—in your mouth, on your face, inside. But you’re taking it all.” 

You nod. Then once again he's fucking you dumb, you don't even care that anyone could walk by, you're just thinking about how big he is, how good it feels. He's fucking your body slack now, you don't even have to do anything, he’s holding you up, lifting you onto and off of his cock roughly, debasingly.

His hands nearly circle your waist completely, they’re so large. Your mouth is stuck open, making stupid, feeble noises and he’s grunting small words of encouragement.

"Say my name," he says.

When you don't respond immediately, too blissed out to think, he slams your body down harder onto him and you nearly yelp.

"Hngh, Theseus. Theseus, please-"

You can feel him get almost unbearably hard inside of you, then he’s heaving you up and flipping you around, manhandling you, so your back is his against his torso, his right arm a bar across your chest, still inside. He brings a hand down roughly to your clit to touch you through it, and then you're both coming hard, your loud, jagged breaths echoing through the empty hall.

Your head spins, you're seeing stars.

"Baby," he says, when you don't come back to yourself immediately. "Was I too rough? Are you okay?"

You nod, breathlessly, but stumble when he finally stops supporting your weight. Your body is still juddering with pleasure, your fingertips quiver and feel numb as you smooth down your dress.

He's right, you think with a laugh. My dress is too damn short.

Theseus has the decency to look around the hall to make sure no one was watching, and to help you fix your hair and what's left of your lipstick. Your lips are pink and bitten now, swollen.

"They're probably wondering where we are. We should go." His voice is serious, unemotive, but there's something like devotion in the way he looks over you from head to toe, just one last time, to make sure you're beyond reproach. He hands you his jacket, which is huge on you, and slings your fur cape over his arm, bearing the cold himself like a gentleman.

A flurry of snow has begun to spiral down in the streets of Berlin, white particles curling and dancing in the wind. You've always found this type of snowfall to be so fanciful, the closest thing to magic in the muggle world. You walk back to the meeting point in comfortable silence, Theseus's hand clasped firmly around yours.

"He doesn't know what's mine," he'd said about Dietrich, about you. And last night, not that long ago, he'd said, "I love you."

Albeit, after you said it first. You look over to his oblivious face, checking both sides for cars before leading you across the busy street. His kind eyes, the line of his jaw..

You wonder how he could mean it... You'd so meticulously tried to conceal from him all the ugly parts of your life, your past, your fears, even your wants when they seemed to inconvenience him.

Could he love me? Could I let him?

"I want you," you'd said to him in the hall of the German Ministry. You realize now that you meant more than his body. For so long even just a look from him, just a word, was enough to sustain you.

But now you wanted more. Maybe it was selfish, undeserved, that the magical world was giving way to crisis, the dark forces were closing in around hope, and yet here you were, wanting to ask him for more...

part three here

author's note: hiiiiii! YES i switched to present tense from past tense in the last part, and no i'm not sorry... please let me know if you'd like me to continue this fic! i have a third & final chapter in mind. or i can take other theseus requests. the theseus brainrot is real... some AUs would be fun too! as always, feedback is welcome <3 taglist: @mystic-mara

[p0orbaby]

Actions Have Consequences

summary: you take the walk of shame to a very uncomfortable level

warnings: other than the barca girls being little shits, nothing!

a/n: a fun little part 2 to this

word count: 549

-

“You’re walking weird”

“I’m not”

You are. It’s glaringly obvious. And the wincing accompanying each step is making everything ten times worse.

“Deja de mentir. Ale, dile a tu novia que deje de mentir”

Alexia doesn't respond to Mapi’s petulant attempts at trying to weedle information out of you. Which you are grateful for. Saving your dignity is the least she can do after being the one to turn you into a snipers nightmare.

“En serio, what happened to you?” Patri chimes in, unwanted curiosity gleaming in her eyes as she strides across the room.

You feel your cheeks heat up instantly as you try to come up with a plausible excuse. “I just... overdid it at the gym,” you mutter, hoping it sounds believable.

It doesn’t.

Not with the way your voice cracks and the way Alexia tries and fails to hide her smirk.

Ona raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure, because we all limp like that after a workout. Tienes razón, Mapi. Ella está mentir”

Aitana saunters over next, a knowing grin on her smug little face. “Maybe she had a different kind of workout,” she teases, earning a chorus of laughs from the rest of the team.

You want to die.

Your reputation is ruined!

You groan, hiding your face in your sweaty hands. “Can we please just focus on training?” you plead, though your voice is muffled. Strained. Both from embarrassment and a consequence of you overusing it.

You make a mental note to take a bottle of apology wine ‘round to your neighbours.

Alexia gratefully steps in, her authoritative captain voice cutting through the laughter. “Muy bien, es suficiente. Manos a la obra.” She gives you a quick, supportive squeeze on the shoulder before moving to the front of the group.

Leading her pack away from the prey they have just mauled half to death.

The team reluctantly follows, though the giggles and whispers don’t fully die down. You try to focus on the drills, but every step reminds you of last night, and the sly glances from your teammates make it increasingly hard to shove the memories to the back of your mind.

As the session draws on, you manage to push through the discomfort thanks to your competitive streak taking over. By the time everything is done and dusted, you’re exhausted but relieved to have survived without further interrogation.

Mapi sidles up to you as you’re grabbing your water bottle. “You know, next time you could just invite us over to watch,” she jokes, winking.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “In your pervy little dreams, Maria”

She laughs, giving you a playful nudge. “No harm in asking ¿eh?”

Alexia appears suddenly by your side, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Ignórala,” she murmurs, kissing your temple.

You lean into her, grateful for her support, emotional and otherwise. “I always do”

Keira makes a gagging noise. “You two are disgustingly cute”

You stick your tongue out at her, and she laughs, heading off to join the rest of the team in the locker room.

Alexia looks down at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, about tonight…Segunda ronda, ¿sí?”

You groan, but you’re smiling. “We’ll see, Captain. We’ll see”

[dixons-sunshine]

The Archer’s Girl | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: When the world ended, you and Daryl narrowly escaped the clutches of the dead and found yourselves in a quarry camp with Merle and some other people. Unwanted, someone in the camp took a weird liking and disliking to you, and it made you extremely uncomfortable. Luckily, Daryl was there to stand up for you.

Genre: Fluff, some angst.

Era: Outbreak day; The Quarry.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU but can be read as a standalone.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of morning sickness.

Word count: 4.4k.

A/N: Damn, I love when two requests correspond with each other and I can get them both into one fic. It’s my favourite thing in the whole world. I feel like Daryl is kinda ooc in this, but I tried to imagine how he’d be with a woman he just met at the quarry and started forming a relationship with vs how he’d be with someone he’s been with since he was a teenager, and in my mind, he’d totally be softer regarding someone he already knows and loves vs one he’s just started getting to know. So soft!Daryl in this, it is! Anyways, I hope you like this!

Barely one minute prior, you had strayed from Daryl’s side to go grab some milk. You had told him that you would be right back, but with all the chaos that had suddenly unfolded in front of you, you highly regretted leaving him at all. With everything going to hell, you could be separated from the man you loved. That thought terrified you.

“Daryl!” you called out, attempting to push past the stampede of people trying to hurriedly evacuate the store you were in. You were abruptly shoved into one of the shelves, a sharp pain shooting up into your ribs. A loud curse escaped your lips as you clutched your side.

However, as you turned around, nothing terrified you more than the sight that beheld you.

On the floor, a woman was screaming in pure, unadulterated agony. On top of her was a man whose body appeared to be decaying, and he ripped a huge chunk of her flesh from her chest. His grimy hands were clawing at her stomach, and with little to no effort, he tore her stomach open. The sight was truly mortifying, and it would never be erased from your mind.

A hand grabbed your wrist from behind. You flinched and tried to rip your hand from the person’s grip, but the familiar voice of your husband calmed you down. However, when you looked at him, you were surprised to note the splatter of dark blood all over his clothes and face.

“S’me! S’jus’ me!” he hurriedly explained. He cast one glance to the horrific sight in front of you before dragging you along with him, the two of you moving quickly. He stopped momentarily in front of one of the shelves to grab two knives, carefully pushing one of them into your hold. “Ya see one’a these dead motherfuckers, ya stab ‘em in the head, alright? S’the only way they drop dead.”

“What? I don’t—”

“Dun’ think ‘bout it, Peach!” he cut you off, pulling you with him out of the store again. “They ain’t alive. The news weren’t lyin’ to us ‘bout the dead risin’. We got a real fuckin’ problem on our hands now.”

Choosing to trust his judgement, you nodded and hurried next to him. The two of you ran down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of your apartment. As you continued onward, you highly regretted deciding to walk to the store instead of taking Daryl’s truck. It would have been a whole lot easier to escape the mess surrounding you if you had a vehicle.

Just as the two of you arrived at your apartment building, about a dozen of the undead people were stumbling out of the door. Daryl quickly pulled you with him to the parking area instead, making a beeline for his truck. However, more of those things flooded the area and a couple of them were heading straight towards you, and it was clear that the two of you weren’t escaping without a fight.

“Ya got yer knife?” Daryl questioned, shooting a glance at you over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you told him, gripping the knife so tightly your knuckles started turning white.

“Good,” he replied, stepping forward to plunge his knife into the skull of one of the monsters. He withdrew the knife, holding it ready to use at a moment’s notice. “Ya gotta stab ‘em in the head as hard as ya can, alright? Dun’ think ‘bout ‘em bein’ alive. These assholes ain‘t livin’ no more.”

“Don’t worry about me trying to talk them out of eating me or something,” you scoffed, replicating the way he was holding his knife with your own. “I’m not that stupid. All these fuckers are getting from me is a fatal blow to the head. They’re not touching me.”

“That’s my girl,” he praised you with a small smile. However, his attention soon got diverted back towards the flood of the undead stumbling around in the parking area.

As the two of you continued onwards, Daryl repeatedly stabbed the heads of the monsters. By some miracle, the two of you made it to his truck without you having to do anything. However, just as Daryl was getting into the driver’s seat and you were opening the door to the passenger seat, a slimy, blood-covered hand gripped your arm tightly in its clutches.

You let out a small cry of terror, instantly alerting Daryl to your horrifying predicament. However, as you struggled against the literal death grip of the monster, its teeth trying desperately to take a chunk of your flesh, you realized that you couldn’t wait for Daryl to come to your rescue. By the time he would have managed to make it towards the other side of the truck, you would already be doomed. You had to take matters into your own hands.

Shakily, you drew your hand that held the knife back and plunged it deep into the thing’s skull with a sickening force. The monster miraculously fell limp with the first blow, its hand falling from your arm. However, before you could fully process that you had just killed something that was once human, Daryl took your face in his hands and checked you over, his eyes filled with fear. You had never seen him with as much terror in his eyes ever before.

“Are ya okay?” he asked in a hurried manner, his voice shaky as his blue eyes searched your body for any signs of hurt or discomfort. “Please tell me the prick didn’t get ya. No bites, no scratches, nothin’.”

“I’m okay,” you assured him, watching him calm down somewhat. “But we have to leave. Right now.”

“Yeah, let’s g—”

The deafening sound of a gunshot echoed through the area, followed closely by the rumble of a motorcycle. When the motorcycle came into view, you were both simultaneously relieved and disappointed to see none other than Merle Dixon. He stopped his motorcycle once he saw you, an exasperated look on his face.

“Y’all jus’ gon’ stand there and get eaten or get in the fuckin’ truck? I did not risk my life gettin’ here jus’ to watch y’all become a mid-day snack.”

Daryl opened the door to the passenger side and quickly ushered you in, shouting over his shoulder at Merle. “What the fuck are ya even doin’ here?!”

“Helpin’ yer sorry ass!” Merle exclaimed, shooting at another oncoming monster. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Daryl did not need to be told twice. He rushed to the driver’s side and hurriedly got in, starting up his truck and speeding out of the parking area, following behind Merle’s motorcycle. With all the chaos that had unfolded, the two of you hadn’t even managed to go grab some clothes from your apartment. However, by some stroke of luck, as you glanced towards the back of the truck, you noted that two duffel bags were resting there, as well as a bag with everything needed to construct a tent, as well as Daryl’s crossbow. You thanked your lucky stars that the two of you had gone camping for his hunting trip two days prior, and forgot to remove everything from his truck. The clothes were dirty, sure, but once you found a body of water, you’d be able to wash them. And Daryl’s crossbow would more than likely come in handy.

“Are ya okay?” Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. He was nervously chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes darting between you and the road.

You nodded at him, trying to calm your racing thoughts. In a matter of thirty minutes, your life had flipped upside down. You had killed someone, whether they were dead or not. The blood from the kill coated your skin and made you feel sick at your actions, but you tried to remind yourself that the thing you killed was not human anymore. If you didn’t kill it, it would’ve killed you. It would’ve killed—

Gasping, you sat upright and clutched at your stomach. Daryl looked at you worriedly, his eyes trailing to your stomach. His eyes widened in terror, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more, if that was even possible.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned in alarm. “Oh, god. S’somethin’ wrong with Peanut? Did those pricks—”

“No! No, nothing’s wrong,” you reassured him, your hand resting on your stomach. “It’s just... With everything going on, I forgot about the baby. I forgot about my own child, Daryl. What kind of future mother does that make me?”

Daryl moved one of his hands to rest on your thigh, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles on the fabric of your jeans. He sent you a small smile, hoping to bring you some comfort.

“S’okay,” he told you. “Yer not gon’ be a bad mom. With everythin’ goin’ on, yer body went into fight or flight mode. S’cause of it that ya managed to keep the baby in yer belly safe. And once they’re here, I know yer gon’ do yer absolute best to protect ‘em. They’ve got the best damn mama ever.”

One month had passed. One month since the dead had started walking. One month since everything you knew had gotten destroyed. One month since you had stumbled upon a quarry camp filled with other survivors with your husband and brother-in-law. One month since your life had been turned upside down.

“I hope so,” you mumbled, resting your hand that wasn’t on your stomach over his hand that rested on your thigh. “I really hope so.”

You sighed as you washed one of Daryl’s jeans, subtly listening to the other women making conversation, the women sitting quite a distance from you. Most of the ladies in the small camp you were in tended to keep their distance from you, deeming you damaged goods due to the people you were with. Well, more so because Merle was your brother in law. You and Daryl tended to keep to yourselves, with Daryl only speaking to others when absolutely necessary, but the same couldn’t be said for his hotheaded older brother. Merle had made quite the first impression on your fellow survivors, and not a good one. And automatically, by mere association, they had deemed you and Daryl the same. Most of the women simply referred to you as the archer’s girl, and you were pretty sure they didn’t even know your actual name.

Most of the women didn’t even bother acknowledging your existence most of the time. The only exception was a sweet woman named Carol Peletier, who offered you her kindness whenever she saw or spoke to you. She offered you advice on how to properly scrub stains from jeans, on how to fix up the holes in your husband’s socks, and so much more than that as well. She was the only one who you had felt comfortable enough sharing the secret of your pregnancy with, and even though she promised not to tell anyone, she silently offered you her support, and gave you advice regarding your pregnancy by telling you stories about her own pregnancy with little Sophia. Carol was your only true friend there, and you appreciated her on a profound level.

Without her, you probably would have snapped at the other women there for the judgemental looks they threw your way, so you deeply cherished the friendship you had formed with her.

The touch of a calloused yet gentle hand drew you from your thoughts. You looked up and locked eyes with your husband, his blue eyes staring down at you with a softness reserved only for you. You sent him a smile and dropped the pair of jeans you were washing on the ground, standing up to face him better.

“Ya know all’a that washin’ s’now ruined ‘cause ya dropped it in the mud, right?” he told you playfully, sending you a small smile.

You smiled and shrugged. “It’s your jeans. I’ve never heard you complain about a little mud on them before, considering those kills you have to skin that stained these jeans in the first place.”

Daryl chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, yer right,” he replied, before his smile fell and he adapted a more serious tone. “I have to go huntin’.”

“Again?” you asked incredulously, your mood visibly deflating. “You went on a hunt not even two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daryl said with a heavy sigh, fidgeting with his hands. “But that Shane prick demanded that I go on another hunt again for some reason. I dun’ know why, ‘cause we have enough meat to last us another week or so, but he threatened to throw us out’a the camp if I didn’t go now. We can’t leave. ‘Specially not now.”

Your lips formed into a small smile as Daryl’s eyes trailed down to your stomach, his eyes softening slightly as he thought about the life that fluttered there beyond the skin, the life that he had helped create. His very own son or daughter. A small being that he would go to great lengths to protect, even if they weren’t born yet. His little Peanut.

You stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek, before withdrawing again. You giggled at the blush that spread across his face, and you did not miss the way his lips twitched up into a small smile. He could say whatever he wanted, but he secretly loved your little public displays of affection. It was never something big, like some passionate kiss or a full-blown make out session or something along those lines. It was always something small and sweet, something quick to show your affection without drawing too much attention to the two of you. A subtle graze of your hand against his, quick pecks on the cheek, a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, you name it. You knew how to show him love in public without making him uncomfortable, and he loved you for it.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

Daryl noticed and subtly took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “Ain’t no tellin’. Walsh demanded that I find some venison, and that might take me a while. Dun’ even know if there are any deer here.”

You pursed your lips and nodded. “Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

Daryl nodded. Stepping out of his own comfort zone, he leaned down and pressed a feathery light kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he gently caressed your cheek. “Always am. And I love ya more, Sweetheart.”

With that, he turned around and left, leaving you standing alone with the unfinished laundry. Watching his retreating figure, you smiled fondly, completely missing the envious looks the other women were sending your way.

They had not heard your conversation, the two of you being too far away to overhear anything, but they did see the way the archer interacted with you. It was so vastly different from the way he talked to anyone, including his own brother, his own flesh and blood. It was clear there was a lot of history between the two of you, good and bad, and it made the two of you a strong couple. From what Merle had let slip in his high state once, the two of you had been together since you were both merely seventeen years old, and by the looks of it, the two of you were still going strong. The two of you radiated love for one another, and that’s more than most could say about their own past relationships.

Three days had passed. Three days where Daryl was nowhere to be found. Three days where you had to deal with Merle’s disgusting attitude on your own. Three days where you had to sleep alone in your shared tent, wishing, praying that he was there beside you.

It was clear the two of you shared something special, a deep, profound bond that went beyond what the naked eye could see, and it felt unfair to them that they couldn’t find love like that. And with the world at its end, they doubted that they ever would be able to.

It seemed like Baby Dixon noticed their father’s absence, and they weren’t a fan of it. For the past three days, you had not managed to keep anything down in the depths of your stomach. Any and all food you ate came right back up again within a few hours, and it was not exactly pleasant. Thankfully, nobody saw you whenever you rushed to the bushes behind the RV to spew out the contents of your stomach, so nobody knew of your pregnancy just yet.

And you had Carol by your side whenever your stomach rebelled against you, so that was a major plus for you.

“God, I hate this so much,” you groaned in frustration, eliciting a laugh from the woman gently rubbing your back.

“It’s what comes with the joys of pregnancy,” she laughed lightly, continuing the circular motion on your back until you felt better. Once you stood upright, she handed you a bottle of water, encouraging you to drink as much as you needed to. “Drink up. You need to stay hydrated.”

Once you had enough to drink, you handed her the bottle again. “Thank you,” you thanked her, giving her a small smile. “How’d you handle it? The morning sickness, I mean.”

“I was lucky enough to only experience a mild case of morning sickness,” Carol explained, wrapping her arm around you and starting to walk with you back to the main campsite. “You know, and I’m not saying this to pressure you at all, but maybe you should tell everyone about your pregnancy. It would be good for Glenn to be on the lookout for prenatal vitamins.”

“I can’t,” you denied instantaneously. “Then everyone will look at me like I’m carrying the black plague and see me as just another liability. I can’t have that. Daryl and I can handle things on our own until we absolutely have to tell everyone.”

“Okay,” Carol replied, before shifting the conversation away from something that quite obviously stressed you out, and she knew that stress was not good for the baby. “I drank a lot of herbal teas when I was pregnant. That seemed to really work for the nausea.”

“Just great,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Where the fuck are we supposed to find that?”

Carol smiled and gently rubbed your shoulder. “I’ll see if Dale has some. I remember him mentioning something about ginger tea.”

“What if he asks why you need it?” you asked hurriedly with worry evident in your tone.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” she reassured you. “I’ll just tell him I’m feeling nauseous. That something I ate isn’t corresponding with my stomach. Trust me, he’ll believe it.”

You sent her a smile. “Thanks, Carol. I mean it.”

She smiled at you before disappearing into the RV, on a search for Dale. You stood waiting outside, staring ahead at the treeline. You hoped that by continuously looking at it, your husband would appear from the trees with a deer over his shoulders, dirty but unharmed. Alas, as you had learned over the last few days that has passed, that did not work, and you wished you could go out there and look for him yourself, but you knew he’d be beyond mad if you did.

No, your main priority was your baby at that moment. Your husband had shown time and time again that he could take care of himself, so you chose to believe that he would be fine. You had to believe that, otherwise you would spiral into an abyss you did not want to go down.

The feeling of somebody standing next to you startled you. You stumbled and nearly fell, but the hands of the mystery person caught you. Looking up, you locked eyes with the self-appointed leader of the group, Shane Walsh. His brown eyes were staring down at you, a small grin on his face.

“Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized, slightly rubbing your arms.

“What’s your story, lady?” he asked curiosly, leaning back against the metal of the RV, his eyes trailing over you in a way you did not like.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, you shrugged his hands from your arms and took a step back, putting some distance between the two of you. You sent him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay,” you replied, hoping that he would end the conversation with that. However, the man had other plans.

“My story?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What’s a pretty girl like yourself doing with a low life nothing like Daryl Dixon? I mean, you could have anyone you want, but you chose him, the good-for-nothing redneck. Why?”

“Because I love him,” you stated matter-of-factly, sending him a harsh glare that only seemed to spur him on even more.

“Bullshit. There’s gotta be something to it,” he disagreed, chuckling at the glare on your face. “There’s no way that a guy like that managed to pull someone like you. It goes against all the laws of the universe. So tell me, what’s he got to offer? Is he paying you? Are you some prostitute he keeps around for his own pleasure or something? You certainly look pretty enough to have a guy pay you for something like that.”

Before you could stutter out an angry reply to Shane’s deeply offensive, deprecating accusation, a hand gently gripped your shoulder and pulled you aside. Looking up, you saw Daryl, an angry look in his eyes. Without a word, he stepped forward and viciously connected his fist with Shane’s nose, hearing the satisfying crack of the bone there.

“Son of a bitch!” Shane exclaimed, bending over to clutch his nose in his hands. “What the fuck, Dixon?!”

Daryl gripped Shane by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the side of the RV, a threatening glare on his face. Terror filled Shane’s eyes, something unusual for the for the former sherrif’s deputy. Everyone started gathering around the fighting pair, and Carol, who had rushed from the RV once she had heard the commotion, pulled you back from the battle ground, holding you firmly against her side.

“Listen’a me real fuckin’ close, Walsh,” Daryl spat angrily, his voice dangerously low. “I dun’ care what ya say ‘bout me, but if ya ever talk ‘bout my pregnant wife like that again, I’ll do so much worse than jus’ break yer nose. Ya dun’ talk to her, ya dun’ look at her, ya dun’ even breathe the same fuckin’ air as her. If ya do, I’ll skin ya alive and feed the remainin’ pieces of ya to the walkers. Do I make myself clear?”

“Fuck you,” Shane groaned out.

“Yer venison’s on the table. Next time, go hunt for it yer fuckin’ self.”

Without waiting for a response, Daryl shoved Shane harshly and turned around, meeting your eyes. Instead of finding fear in your eyes from his actions, he found adoration instead. You stepped out of Carol’s hold and took Daryl’s hand in your own, dragging him to your shared tent. You didn’t even spare a glance at the people, so you missed the way all of their eyes widened at the realization that you were pregnant, that they had been unnecessarily rude to a pregnant lady that had done absolutely nothing wrong to them. They had been harsh to an expecting mother and father, and for no reason at all. Everyone felt guilty, but the groan that Shane emitted caught their attention once again.

“I’m not mad, you know,” you finally broke the silence, watching the way his ocean-coloured eyes flickered over to you, the confusion evident in them. “Shane got what he deserved. Quite honestly, I planned on punching him, too. You just beat me to it.”

Back in your shared tent with Daryl, you were stood busy, gently cleaning the blood from his split knuckles whilst the man sat on the cot. Daryl was avoiding your eyes, feeling ashamed of his actions. In all the years that you had been together, you had only seen him lash out like that once—one time when you were drinking together in a bar when you were twenty-four, a guy had grabbed your breast without your consent, and Daryl had completely lost it. After that, he swore he would never act like that around you ever again, but Shane had made him break that promise.

“M’sorry,” Daryl mumbled, ducking his gaze to the floor. “I know ya can fight yer own battles. S’jus’... Hearin’ the way he talked ‘bout ya, like ya were some object whose worth he could judge... I dun’ know. It made me pissed. Ya dun’ deserve to be treated like that, ‘specially not when yer carryin’ a baby in yer belly.” He sighed and placed his good hand on your stomach. “Speakin’ of, m’sorry I revealed that yer pregnant. I know ya wanted to keep that hidden for as long as possible.”

You smiled and gently lifted his chin with your finger, gazing deeply into his eyes. “It’s okay. They would’ve found out eventually,” you told him, gently cupping his cheek. “Look at you, always so considerate about everyone else except yourself. You’re amazing, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl blushed. “Yer the amazin’ one,” he countered, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your stomach. He placed a small kiss to the clothed skin. “Peanut’s gon’ have one hell of a mama.”

“And one hell of a daddy,” you replied, bringing one of your hands to thread through his hair. “I love you, Daryl.”

“Love ya more, Peach,” Daryl murmured, closing his eyes at the comforting feeling, his head still resting against your stomach. “Love ya too, Peanut,” he whispered to your belly, and it made you smile.

The serene moment was soon interrupted. The soft calling from Carol grabbed your attention, and you giggled at the groan Daryl let out.

“Y/N?” she called out. “I’ve got that ginger tea I promised you.”

“Ginger tea?” Daryl questioned, looking up at you.

“Yeah. I got a bunch of morning sickness without you around for some reason. It seems like Baby Dixon doesn’t like it when their daddy’s not here.”

“Good,” Daryl chuckled, rubbing your stomach affectionately. “Then I guess ya won’t mind if I stick ‘round.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, pretending to think about it before letting out a light giggle. “I guess I’ll keep you around.”

“That’s real good to hear.”

Before you could respond, you heard the bellowing voice of your brother-in-law. You groaned in frustration, praying that Carol had gotten out of the line of fire, because your tent was about to become a war ground.

“When the fuck were ya plannin’ on tellin’ me ya got that lil’ whore’a yers pregnant?”

Daryl visibly tensed up at his brother’s words, anger flaring up in his eyes, and you knew that another beating was about to commence. “The fuck did ya jus’ say, Merle?!”

“Ya heard me, boy.”

God, you hated Merle with a fiery passion, and you doubted that it would ever change. But you loved Daryl, and you knew that as long as you had him by your side, you could face anything.

Yeah, your little Peanut was gonna have the best father ever.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 52 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As the perfect weekend comes to a close, you start to feel anxious about the way everyone else will perceive the engagement ring on your finger. If you could just stay in your peaceful bubble with the boys, you'd be all set. But Bradley might be about to face something much worse than an unwanted opinion. 

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, smut, pregnancy topics, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

From the moment you woke up on Sunday, Bradley had you melting. "Morning, Mrs. Bradshaw," he mumbled against your bare shoulder, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. His huge, warm body was pressed against your back, and his lips were soft as a breeze touching your skin.

You bit your lip when his big hand snaked slowly around to your belly, and you whispered, "Morning, Daddy."

His lips found the shell of your ear as he chuckled, and goosebumps rippled along your skin. "If you do want to change your name to Bradshaw, then we can order you a new credit card and new checks as soon as we get married. If not, will you at least consider my last name for the baby?"

You wriggled around in his grasp until he released you so you could roll onto your other side and face him. "I want to change it," you said firmly, kissing the end of his mustache and running your fingers through his hair. "I want to match with you and Noah." You could tell he sighed in relief as you added, "And of course the baby will match with all of us."

When you rolled him onto his back, his hands were on your butt, keeping you snug against him. His smile was cocky as he said, "I feel like rewarding you for making all my dreams come true."

Then he nipped at the tops of your breasts as they were pressed against his chest. "Oh yeah?" you whispered. "How are you planning to do that?"

His dark eyes looked a little dangerous as he said, "By doing anything you ask me to."

You squeezed him inadvertently with your thighs, and he smirked. He knew he had you. He was always going to have you. But you knew what you wanted from him, and you were about to say it when you heard another voice in your bedroom doorway.

"Mommy? Daddy? I'm hungry."

Bradley groaned as you rolled off of him and pulled the covers higher. "I should have known since it's eight o'clock," he whispered, kissing your cheek and then reaching for your hand to kiss your ring. "I'll go start breakfast."

Your eyes went wide. "Don't punish the child, Bradley."

He snorted and slipped out from the covers as Skittles trotted out of her bed to join both of the boys. Your eyes raked over Bradley's body and his snug briefs as he reached for a pair of sweatpants while Noah yawned. "Let's go, Bub," he whispered, picking his son up and turning back to you. "Take your time, but also don't be too long. I think he wants edible food."

Then they were gone and you took a few minutes to sprawl out in bed and examine your engagement ring. You just got it, and already you were wondering how soon you could feasibly get a wedding band to join it on your finger. "Oh," you moaned softly, realizing Bradley might want to wear a wedding band, too. "That would be hot."

You rolled out of bed, nearly falling to the floor as you quickly pulled on some clothing, and then you were rushing to the kitchen where Noah was eating some apple slices sprinkled with cinnamon. Bradley was leaning on the counter with baseball scores open on his phone while he brewed some coffee, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. 

"That was quick," he muttered when you made your presence known.

"Are you going to wear a ring?"

He turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face. "Like a wedding ring?"

"Yes," you replied quickly, because somehow knowing this information was extremely urgent to you. "Are you going to wear one?"

You must have sounded more aggressive than you meant to, because he told you, "I mean, I was planning on it, yes. Is that okay?"

Then your head tipped back and you moaned softly. "Oh my god, Bradley. That's sinfully hot. All of your old man stuff and your body and your voice. And you're going to wear a wedding ring, too?"

"Well, yeah. I thought we could get matching engravings inside our rings with the wedding date and a little crown." You had to press your lips together to keep from screaming, and he had the audacity to ask you, "Are you okay, Baby?"

"No! Obviously not! I hope you realize other women will see that ring on your finger and be jealous of me." You gestured to yourself, feeling like you had perhaps finally lost it over this man. 

Bradley smirked. "They already are though. Look at you. So pretty."

You threw your hands up in the air and let them fall to your sides. "I can't really deal with you right now. Go sit with Noah." He chuckled so you added, "I'm serious. Get your coffee and go." You started to rummage around in the refrigerator so you could make pancakes with fresh whipped cream, still hardly able to believe you were both pregnant and engaged. 

When you started setting eggs and cream on the counter, Bradley reached past you for the French vanilla coffee creamer and made your coffee exactly how you liked it. He left you the mug that said Noah's Dad as he muttered, "I'll have to get you one that says Noah's Mom."

"Maybe just wait a few months and get me one with both names on it."

"I can do that."

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

Bradley thought you looked tired as the afternoon wore on. It had been an exciting few days, but playing with Noah usually seemed to give you more energy, not take it away. After the three of you colored on the driveway and went grocery shopping and stopped at the park, he suggested you and Noah both take a little afternoon nap.

"Just a short one though," you agreed. "I wanted to talk more about weddings and babies." You yawned again and followed Noah into his bedroom. Once again, Bradley was left with Skittles looking up at him expectantly. 

"Okay, fine. I'll get your leash." Soon there would be an additional pair of eyes looking at him and making him melt. It was bad enough there were already three that he was completely weak for.

He made it halfway around the block with Skittles' little bag of poop in one hand when two women in skin tight athletic apparel ran past him. They said hi in unison while he nodded at them, and then they must have paused right behind him.

He heard one of them mutter, "Big guys with little dogs do things to me."

"Ask him out," said the other woman. "I don't see a ring."

Bradley groaned softly as he tugged on Skittles' leash while she sniffed a cactus growing next to the sidewalk. You and he had literally had a conversation about rings this morning, and now it was too late for him to make a quick getaway without picking up his dog and sprinting down the block. Perhaps he was the one who really needed to be wearing a ring this whole time, not you.

"Hey," the first woman said, and he turned around a little sheepishly. "Your dog is literally so adorable. What's her name?"

He didn't know what he was expecting as he said, "Skittles," but it wasn't for both women to look at him like they were on the verge of getting undressed on the sidewalk. 

"Oh my god, I'm obsessed with her! Hi, Skittles." Bradley swallowed hard and took a deep breath, opening his mouth to just end this thing, but she beat him to it as she knelt down to pet the dog. She looked up at him and said, "We're almost done with our run, and I'd absolutely love to take you out for some coffee if you're free."

All he could picture were the coffee cups he always brought home to you with Princess scribbled on the side. When he started to shake his head, she stood from the sidewalk. "I'm engaged," he replied. "But thanks for the offer."

Both women were pouting when he turned away, and one of them said, "Should have known," before they were on their way again. Bradley was immediately filled with that same feeling he had after he forced himself to go to the app dates. He just wanted to be back home where you were. Where everything felt easier. Where he could just be himself without trying so hard. 

"Come on," he told Skittles, and she looked up at him with her tongue peeking out and started to trot down the sidewalk next to him.

When they got home, the sun was getting lower in the sky, and the house was silent. His bedroom was empty, so he doubled back to Noah's room. Sure enough, you were snuggled up with him, sound asleep, just like Friday night. He could have happily watched this scene for the rest of the night. He kind of wanted to squeeze himself into the twin bed, too. Instead he started working on chores and folding laundry. 

It wasn't too much longer before you woke up and appeared in the kitchen with Noah who was whining about being hungry again. You still looked tired, but you also had a determined expression on your face. You shot Bradley a coy smile over your shoulder as you made grilled cheese sandwiches. 

"What's that look for?" he asked as you sat down with the food.

"Well, first of all, thanks for letting me nap," you said, kissing his cheek. "I don't know why I'm so tired today. Maybe it's from all the excitement of the weekend, or maybe it's a pregnancy symptom?"

Bradley's face lit up. "Both options are good. We can go to bed early tonight."

"Yeah... about that. You know how you wanted to reward me? And give me whatever I asked for?"

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

A few hours later, you were honestly still pretty tired, but Bradley was on his knees in front of you on the bedroom floor, looking up at you with his addicting eyes. You were wearing just your paper crown and your underwear, and he was already naked and ready. But you wanted him to beg for you, and he knew exactly what to do.

His hands and lips were soft on your sides and your belly, and his cock was hard. "Please, Baby," he whispered as he ran the tip of his nose up along your ribs. "You're perfect."

You pushed your fingers through his hair, tugging on the roots until he moaned. As his hands slid around to your lower back, you said, "Tell me what you want, and I'll decide if you can have it."

Now his lips were frantic against your body, his kisses growing in need as his breathing got more rapid. "I want you," he gasped. "I want to fuck my Princess. I want to love you. Please."

You yanked on his hair so he was looking up at you. "I only fuck knights. And only the one I'm engaged to."

Bradley groaned and kissed your belly as he tugged down your underwear. "Baby, I'm so hard. Please."

You smirked, clearly just as turned on as he was, but keeping it together. "You better be good for me."

He scrambled to his feet and onto the bed, and you straddled his hips. He was poking you with his length, but you took his hands in yours and placed them on your breasts. You closed your eyes and listened to that gorgeous voice whisper please a dozen times as his rough hands worked their magic. His cock was eager, tapping against your thigh with each wave of his arousal. Finally you leaned down and kissed his lips softly.

"Okay, Daddy."

His stamina was commendable, as always. You rode him through two orgasms as he hit the sweet spot inside of you while he played with your clit. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were wide as he watched you come for him. And then he had to beg again. 

"Please. Let me finish." But you shook your head and watched him pant. You weren't done yet. You needed another minute. "Please? Please? Baby, I'm begging."

His hands were tight on your thighs as you rolled your hips. "I'm not done yet. You have to wait."

The veins in his neck looked delicious, so you leaned down and licked them. The change in position had him moaning your name, so you whispered next to his ear, "You can come, Daddy." 

You almost screamed when his hips jerked up, his cock pushed so deep inside you. He was babbling unintelligibly about a wedding and the baby as he bucked beneath you, filling you up until his movements finally slowed. His face was slick with sweat as you pushed his hair back from his forehead, and you were delighted as he kept begging.

"Stay with me forever, Princess? Please?"

You fell asleep with your body wrapped around him.

Monday morning hit you like a ton of bricks. You were exhausted and overwhelmed from the weekend, and you realized when you were in the shower that you'd probably have to see Casey when you dropped Noah off. The boys were eating bowls of cereal when you finally made it into the kitchen. Bradley had your coffee ready, and you briefly considered whether or not you should be drinking so much caffeine. Your movements stilled as you remembered all of the champagne you drank recently. 

"You okay?" Bradley asked from his spot at the table. He'd been saying good morning, but you hadn't responded at all.

"Yeah. Just thinking about calling my doctor later."

He was smiling when you looked at him. "Great idea."

You needed to make a lot of changes, and you were starting to feel overwhelmed again. "Will you come to daycare dropoff with us this morning?" you blurted out.

You watched him check the time on the oven clock before he met your eyes again. It sounded so stupid; you and he worked out the schedule you had so that both of you weren't backtracking all over the city. He would be cutting it close to get to work on time, but he said, "Sure. I'll follow you there and then head to base."

"Okay, thank you," you replied, kissing the top of his head. "We'll leave soon."

"Not until you eat something." He pushed the box of cereal in your direction and finished getting Noah ready while you ate. The food made you feel a little better, but your engagement ring felt like it weighed a ton on your finger. You were going to get bombarded with questions and comments all day long, and you wished you could just stay home with Bradley and extend the perfect weekend forever. 

But soon enough, you had Noah in your backseat, and you were heading for daycare in your scrubs. You had him out of his carseat by the time the Bronco coasted into the spot next to yours, and Noah was reaching for Bradley with his free hand. At least he seemed delighted that both of you were here with him.

Bradley held the door open and kissed your cheek when you walked past. "I've gotta run in a minute," he reminded you, but that wasn't going to be a problem. You didn't want to be here for more than a minute yourself, because you could already feel Casey's gaze on your body as the three of you entered the building. 

"Hi!" she called out, clearly looking at only Bradley as she smiled brightly. "Did you have a nice weekend?"

"The best," he replied with a smirk in your direction as he wrapped his arm around your waist. 

Then you noticed the colorful prisms bouncing off the wall next to Casey as you stood in the sunlight shining in through the door. Your ring was massive and glittery and impossible to hide, not that you really wanted to. But you could tell second that her gaze landed on your hand, and a grimace settled on her face.

Bradley didn't seem to notice the showdown of sorts as he kissed your cheek before kneeling in front of Noah to tell him to have a good day. Casey looked at you with her sour expression, and you tried your best to keep yourself neutral, unsure whether you wanted to laugh or scream.

"Wow," she finally said. "That's a neat ring."

You nodded, and now you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your lips. It wasn't neat. It was perfect. It was stunning. You were about to say something when Bradley scooped Noah up in a hug and casually said, "Yeah, we're getting married."

Casey nodded, a jerky motion as she pressed her lips together, and then Noah turned and looked at her as he said, "And I'm going to be a big brother!"

"Noah!" you gasped as Bradley's eyes went wide. All of the baby talk during the weekend must have made an impression. You and Bradley had been talking openly about what was going on, and Noah must have picked up on things. He probably absorbed all of the information, including when you told Bradley that he'd be an amazing big brother. 

"Yeah, you are, Bub," Bradley said with a laugh before he looked at you. "Well, that cat's out of the bag, I guess," he whispered.

"We were not at all discreet when we discussed things in front of him," you replied softly, happy that he was smiling about it.

"That's... neat," Casey repeated, looking like she just ate a lemon. "Wow." She handed Bradley the clipboard while she glared at you, and you avoided her by giving Noah a kiss.

"I'll pick you up later," you promised him, and then he was walking back into the classroom with Casey who had her nose in the air. 

Bradley was checking the time again. "I need to go, Princess. You good?"

"Yes," you replied, watching Noah's little backpack disappear from view. "I'll see you at home tonight."

He grabbed you up and kissed you, giving a bit of a show to the family who just walked in to drop their child off. "I love you," he rasped before running out the door.

You also disappeared before Casey could return, and of course, it was a typically busy Monday at work. But Dr. Kelly gasped when she saw your ring, and the other nurses squealed when you told them Bradley proposed. Pretty soon you'd have to let them know you were pregnant, too, but since Noah wasn't here to blow your cover, you didn't mention it yet. You did however schedule an appointment with your own doctor. 

You got to assist with stitches, clean up a scraped leg while a little girl cried, and fend off a single dad who was blatantly looking at your boobs while he asked you out. Then you got to clean up the floor after a kid peed in the first exam room. You were just bracing yourself for a disaster when Dr. Kelly called you into room two where a boy had bite marks on his arm. "Happened at daycare," she told you, and you got the antiseptic ready.

If that kind of thing ever happened to Noah, you weren't sure how you'd be able to stay calm. Then you thought about the baby, and it threw you for a loop. You felt so protective of both of them already. You still had the scars on your arm from when you fell running away from Meredith. 

So you cleaned up his arm while you sang Noah's favorite song about dinosaurs, taking the time to be careful around the bruising. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, but he sat still for you. Then you let him have as many stickers as he wanted before he left.

You were exhausted and on the verge of tears when you left in your car at five o'clock. You should have known you'd be overwhelmed today, and you needed to get home and spend the night with Noah and Bradley like your sanity depended on it. Traffic was heavy, but when you finally made it back to the daycare, you rushed inside to get it over with.

Of course it was just you and Casey. She set the clipboard down on the edge of the counter but made no move to get Noah for you as you signed your name. Then a malicious looking smile found her lips. "He only proposed because you're pregnant. You know that, right?"

You already knew that's what people were going to assume. You even told Bradley as much. Casey must have been stewing over that information all day long, ready to try to make you feel bad about yourself. It didn't even matter, because you already knew the truth, but in that moment, you felt so damn petty. 

"Bradley actually proposed before he knew I was pregnant, and it was by no means an accident. But nice try, Casey. Now, would you mind doing your job and getting Noah for me? I can't believe I have to remind you what your job entails so frequently."

Her smile turned to a scowl, and you were ready to go a few rounds with her if needed as you slid the clipboard toward her again. You had the upper hand here no matter what, because the Bradshaws were all yours. But she didn't respond, rather she turned away from you and went inside the classroom to get Noah. The idea of knocking all of her neatly organized paperwork to the floor crossed your mind, but you decided to be an adult and just wait for Noah. You were almost immediately awarded with the sweetness only he could bring to your day.

"Mommy!" he called out, running across the small lobby to get to you. "I painted Skittles, but I made her green and yellow!"

"Show me," you said as you bent to pick him up, and then he was holding out his picture as you kissed his cheek. "She's stunning, sweet Noah. I love her."

"We can hang it up at home. On the fridge."

You nodded and carried him outside without looking at Casey. She could eat dirt for all you cared. "The refrigerator is looking really full of your artwork these days, but I'm sure we can squeeze it in. Now, do you want ants on logs or fancy apple snails with your dinner?"

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

"Well, I fucking did it," Nat said with an exasperated sigh when Bradley walked across the tarmac with her.

"Did what?" he asked, already slightly concerned about where this conversation might be headed.

She flapped her hands in the air in front of herself like that was supposed to mean something. "With Javy! I turned it from friends with bennies into a thing."

"A thing?" he asked, getting more confused by the moment. "What kind of thing?"

"A relationship!" she hissed before clapping her hand over her mouth like she'd said a dirty word.

"Oh," he replied with a laugh. "You're dating him? Like actually dating him? Is this your first boyfriend?" She kicked him in the shin. "Fuck!"

"Come on, Bradley! You know this is a big deal for me! Even admitting to him that I like him made me feel filthy."

"Jesus," he groaned, taking a step to the side to get further away from her as he walked. "I literally can't fathom what he sees in you."

She glared at him. "I could say the same damn thing about your sweet girlfriend. She could have guys eating out of her hand, but she somehow finds you charming?"

Bradley didn't want to say it, but you probably technically found Noah charming. And if last night's activities were any indication, you definitely did have Bradley eating out of your hand. All you had to do was just mention you wanted him to beg for you, and he was on his knees. He'd been that way since the beginning. He had no problem giving you control when you let him know that's how you wanted the evening to go.

"She's not my girlfriend anymore," he replied, watching her reaction from the corner of his eye. 

His best friend dropped her helmet and almost tripped over it as she reached out to wrap her hand around his forearm. She looked devastated as she softly said, "Oh my god, Bradley. She dumped you?"

His jaw dropped open as he came to a stop, and he glared at her. "Seriously, Nat? That's where your mind went? I proposed!"

Her eyes went wide. "She said yes? You're engaged?"

"Yes!" he insisted with his hands on his hips. "You're the worst."

But she didn't even hear him, because now she was screeching and stepping on his feet as she hugged him. "I'm so happy for you! That was quick, but holy shit, it just makes sense! Do I get to collect a finder's fee?"

When she kissed his cheek he said, "All you did was set me up on a bunch of miserable dates while she babysat Noah."

"Exactly! Mutual pining!" she replied with a laugh. "None of this would have happened if I didn't put the app on your phone, so you're welcome."

He tried to disentangle her from his arms so he could pull up the photo he took of the ring when he heard Maverick clear his throat. When he looked at his godfather, he didn't seem thrilled, and Bradley's stomach lurched when he said, "Rooster. We need to talk."

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

Okay, well Casey is the worst. And Skittles is a chick magnet, but we already knew that would be the case. Now let's see if we can get to a wedding and a baby before disaster strikes. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 53

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[viaviavie]

in which sebek steals a dance with you during the glorious masquerade event. you both make an entire spectacle on the dance floor. (alternatively, sebek is flirting with you and is trying to be super nonchalant about it by saying it's for the sake of Malleus' honor). sebek zigvolt x reader note: i was watching this and imagined every single twst guy doing this in glorious masquarade. but i love sebek smsmsm so its sebek today. also, did you know that crocodiles do courtship dances during mating season?

Masquerade balls were not the most accessible event from your modern world. To think that you would get the opportunity was but a fleeting dream. At least, that was the case until you were dragged along to Fleur City. How fortunate of Vil to tailor your own attire for you. The process was not free of charge, of course. All it truly costed was several days of Vil playing dress up with his human mannequin. Thankfully, the fires caused by Rollo's magic never left a scratch on your garments, and you were more than happy that the ball had resumed after the incident.

With such grace, you let out a fit of giggles as Rook twirled you around on the dance floor. "Well done, Trickster! It seems that Vil's dance lessons have finally paid off as well." The blonde lowers himself to a bow, and you return a gesture of your own with a wide grin. "Yeah! I gotta thank him once we get back. Those shoes he recommended me were very good too!"

Looking back on the sea of students and staff alike, you found some relief in Trein watching over Grim and Deuce as they raided the tables lined up with food. Everyone else seemed to be occupied, whether they were mingling with other students or eyeing Rollo with caution. Rook takes your hand once more, stepping into the imaginary box dictating your steps as you pivot backwards. He leans into your ear, hands lightly tapping at your shoulders as you both paused.

"Have you noticed how Monsieur Crocodile has been watching you?"

Eyes flickering upwards, you see the half-fae standing guard by Malleus and Silver. Whereas Malleus seemed engrossed in a conversation with a Noble Bell student, and Silver occupied with his duty, Sebek's gaze was trained onto you like a hawk. It was too intense, too different from the way he watches over Malleus and his surroundings with such caution. No, this felt much different.

Rook leans in closer, and you swear he is smiling at Sebek. You swear that Rook is trying to provoke him with the way he shifts closer to your ear. "He has been eyeing you for a long time now, Trickster." The song sways into motion once more, and you have turned around to face the hunter entirely. He finds himself amused over your pink cheeks, the way you shake your head wildly in denial. "Please, Rook. He probably doesn't want me dishonoring Malleus in some way, shape, or form because his lord is associated with me." You rambled nervously, swallowing to yourself as Rook takes your hand and turns you through the dance floor as the strings soften their volume.

"Non, non. I would be delighted to disagree." Rook comes to a halt, tilting his head to the side as he returns his hands behind his back. You pause, confusion overtaking your expression until you turn your head to the side, finally eyeing what had caught the hunter's attention. Striding forward was a seemingly coolheaded Sebek, a hand trained behind his back and the other, relaxed at his side. Fixing his signature smile, Rook bows slightly before the knightly figure.

"Good evening, Monsieur Crocodile! I have yet to see you on the dance floor."

Clearing his throat, Sebek nods at Rook with a tight jaw. "It appears that Epel requires your presence. May you tend to him before he gets swamped with too many unwanted admirers?" The three of you glance off to the side, eyeing a distressed Epel trapped in a crowd of students who seem too eager to ask him for a dance. You suppose that without Vil to overshadow everyone else, Epel's charms were rather hard to resist for some. Maintaining that smile, Rook leaves with a short nod to both you and Sebek, striding away from the dance floor with poise.

Hands fallen to your lap, you watched as Sebek take a step closer in front of you. Does he hear your heart pounding as he holds out his arm? Biting onto your inner cheek, you tilted your head to meet his eyes which were filled with nothing but sheer determination. "Prefect, may I have the honor of stealing you for this dance?"

He does not miss the way your cheeks burn red now, and you do not miss the way his ears matched the same color. Steal? That sounded intimate, in comparison to simply 'asking' you for a dance. Not that it mattered though, not when your heart was doing the flips in your chest for him. "But of course, Sebek. I would be delighted."

It takes you by surprise as he reached out for your hand, gently lowering his head to place his lips against your knuckles. If you were already flushed red, surely, you felt even warmer than before. You do not even register the way he places his hand on your waist, the other held high for you to clasp on. You waste no time either on shuffling your steps according to his pace, constantly adjusting and turning to his lead. Though his head was held highly, his eyes were still trained onto your face.

"I never knew that you were good at dancing." You tell him, taking a quick glance to the side to find Malleus and Silver observing you both, smiling at the sight. Sebek pays no mind to the crowd, grunting in response. "To master the art of dancing is another skill to perfect, should I be a knight worthy of the Young Master. Even beyond the sword, it is his honor that I carry."

The strings are soft and gentle as Sebek circles you, his hand never leaving your waist. To onlookers, it appears that Malleus's vassal in the making has a second master. He is close, yet keeps a distance to exercise his restraint. Sebek knows better than to impose onto your space, but he would not appear to be a stranger. After spending more than enough time with you, whether it be within the company of Malleus or not, it was safe to say you were at least acquaintances, if not friends.

Still, friends do not dance together so intimately in front of crowds, not like this. There was a certain delicacy to his steps, and you can feel his eyes on you even when your back his turned. When he takes your hand, he laces his fingers before pulling away as if you were set alight. You try to follow, give chase as you both brush elbows with a turn, barely catching his conflicted expression as he returns his hand to your waist. It is a neverending cycle of push and pull, chasing and running, wanting and longing.

With a pivot, you take a step towards Sebek's chest as he closes the distance. A quiet gasp leaves your lips as your chin lightly brushes against the padding of his chest, just as his hand presses against your lower back for support.

And just then, the music stops and all you hear are murmurs and whispers from the crowd.

You take the time to peer into your surroundings past Sebek's shoulder, marveling at the crowd that had seemed to circle the grand ballroom. Pairs of Noble Bell students are stationed at the border of the dance floor, centering you and Sebek in the middle of it all. The combination of a magicless student and a half-fae look out of place, not to mention how your attires seemed to stand out from Fleur City's garments.

Sebek comes to the conclusion faster than you as he huffed to himself. "Ah, it seems we are put on the spot." For once, he is quiet. Quiet does not always yield to meekness, however. He lowers himself to your ear, unable to see your piqued expression. "What shall we do, Sebek?" You feel him shift his head every so slightly, looking towards the direction of where Malleus was supposedly sitting.

The half-fae grunted, and you could feel his fingers on your hip tense slightly. "The Young Master's honor befalls on us both, so does the honor of Night Raven College." After what felt like a long time, Sebek slowly pulled away to look you in the eye. You were not shying away from him, too lost in the moment to consider the possibility of stage fright.

"Prepare yourself, Prefect. I shall not hold back on your accord if you wish." Bravado returns to Sebek's voice, almost similar to his usual tone when proudly representing the Briar prince. It is the way that his lips threaten to twitch into a smirk as you beam at him with an agreeable nod. "Good, looks like we're on the same page." You breathed out, the strings strumming to life once more. The tempo is faster now, and your head tunes into the beat quickly.

You surprise Sebek as you take the initiative first. Much like the Trickster you were, you circle Sebek once with an arm ghosted before his chest until you meet his front. Clenching his jaw, he was taken aback by a mere moment by your boldness before a smug smirk surfaces across his features. He takes your hand slowly, taking a careful step forward before falling into the beat.

You supposed that everyone had Vil to thank for teaching the inexperienced students on how to dance with one another. It was not the first time you would be dancing with Sebek, but this was an entirely different matter. There wasn't much of a dance routine to recall, but only trust that your partner would always be in sync with you.

Sebek never disappoints when it came to observation, and it didn't take too long for him to adjust to your movements.

The world spins with each turn and pivot, but Sebek never relents and neither do you. His cape is flying through the air, and the extensions from your clothes flow in sync with his movements. As you barely ghost your head from his chest, you continue to glance into the crowd. You were barely able to catch Deuce and Grim from the crowd, attempting to support you with a 'thumbs-up'. Then you could see Rollo and Malleus side-by-side, arms crossed and musing upon the sight.

Everyone was switching partners, leaping from one dancer to another. Sebek's gentle grip on you remained, and your hand never leaves his shoulder as you both spun.

There were so many people whose eyes were trained on you, and the idea makes your head spin until your dance partner noticed. "Prefect, do not stray your gaze from me." You are almost startled by how commandeering his voice had become. For a slight moment, you both pull away, an arm behind your backs and the other lacing fingers. His eyes trained onto yours, as they always were, Sebek gives you an encouraging smile. "Focus on me." You do not understand, judging by the way you cock your head to the side innocently. "Care not for what the others think of you. It is only you and I here."

It takes a moment for you to relax, returning his smile before you closed the distance once more with a sweep of your foot. "And what are you thinking of, Sebek?" You respond, and it is that look on your face that takes his breath away. As he sweeps at the floor with you, he struggles to find the words. Between dancing and thinking, both had begun to feel difficult with each second that passes while he remained fixed onto your eyes. Ever so quietly, he finally clears his throat to answer your question.

"I am thinking about how the radiance of Fleur City pales when compared to your expressions."

Everyone is leaping again, the colors of Noble Bell wash over into a blur as your lips parted with surprise. Words are trapped in your throat as you looked up at Sebek, eyes softening in thought. For a moment, Sebek's face froze, almost as if he feared your reaction when it was anything but rejection. Your silence would've pained him, if he weren't so captivated by your expression as the world continues to spin.

Finally, he breaks the silence with a whine.

"Please don't look at me like that, Prefect. I beg you." It snaps you out of your trance, prompting you to furrow your eyebrows slightly in confusion. "Why? I am only looking at you like you asked." Sebek's grip tightens only slightly, demonstrating even further restraint. Almost like an agonized hiss, he responds with an accusing glare. "That's exactly it! I cannot think straight when you look at me with such an endearing expression!"

If it was an indirect comment, it cracks a smile from your face. Even as your eyes flutter shut into your stifled laughter, you never truly face away from the half-fae. Huffing to himself, Sebek's ears flush a warm pink. "You dare provoke me like this?" He says quietly, but it is merely a warning before he puffs up his chest with pride, regaining a new sense of energy.

Squeezing your hand with care, Sebek cleared his throat with a scowl. "Very well, then I shall give you my all for tonight. Do not regret this." As surly as he attempts to be, it does not deter you from returning his gesture with a squeeze of your own. "Of course not!"

You no longer know how long you have been dancing for. It seems that a few pairs have resigned to rest, leaving behind more room for you and Sebek to explore. You've long stopped paying attention to your surroundings, far too concerned with the way Sebek mutters quick praises into your ear with each turn and twirl. He is swift with his feet, yet so careful to ensure you do not fall on his watch. Neither of you have yet to stumble, far too engrossed and connected to collapse now.

"Good, Prefect! Keep up!"

The music never stops, and it seems it has no intents of stopping until only one pair remains. If your feet were ever tired, you never notice, not when Sebek's hands are constantly finding ways to touch you. Even as you both part for mere seconds, it does not take long for him to come back. He returns to you, just as how you retreat to him, how you surrender yourself to him, how you trust him to not let you fall.

You never realize how he comes so close to your face, dipping you low until his breath brushes against the crook of your neck. Sebek's arm was secure in the way he kept you from falling onto the floor, despite how far he had lowered you. His hot breath brushed against your cheek, and you could feel his body tense as you tighten your grip on his shoulder. "Is it appropriate for you to be this close to me?" You murmured softly, meeting his dilated eyes, that beautiful shade of gold. "Does it cause you discomfort?" He muttered in turn, almost ready to shift away should you express it. Much to his concern, you shook your head with a coy smile. "No."

Sebek held a smug smirk, confidence reflected behind his eyes once more. Just as he heaved forward to pull you back up, his lips brushed against the slight curve of your ear. For a moment, you wondered if it was just your imagination when you felt a sharp fang press itself against your skin for a brief moment.

"Very good, Prefect."

It clicks.

This is no longer an ordinary dance. It is a game of hiding one's affections. For someone as loud and proud like Sebek, it comes to a slight surprise that he would indulge in subtleties to express his fondness for you. Once he had pulled you from his dip, something changes within Sebek's movements.

Sebek holds you as if he were possessed, eyes glazed with yearning. The song had begun to ride out its climax, intensifying just as your partner closed in on you like a predator trapping its prey. It's not just about upholding reputations now.

Leaning into your space, Sebek's restrained hand lightly clawed at your back as he presses you closer to him. Finally able to obscure himself from your vision, he struggled to keep himself from growling, however much he could hold back the fae within him.

"Be careful, Prefect. If you keep looking at me with those eyes of yours,"

Pulling away, he bares his fangs before you, teeth clenched with intense concentration. Perhaps the act of putting on a show was no longer on his mind, traded in for the experience of watching your lovely expressions as he continued to control your turns with each step and pull. Sebek would never let you turn away from him, and you wouldn't dare to tear yourself away from his powerful gaze.

"I might just devour you whole."

"Monsieur Crocodile! I did not expect such a display from him, I applaud his tenacity!" Azul sighed to himself, debating on whether he should or shouldn't entertain the blonde who had taken to himself with a handkerchief to his eye. Against his better judgement, he turns to Rook with an exasperated expression. "His tenacity is applaudable, yes. Still, I do not understand why you have to shed a tear, Rook."

"Have you not noticed, Roi d'Effort?" Rook clicks his tongue, his smile relaxing as he swoons over the sight of the pair returning to Malleus and Silver. "It is most common to part from your current partner and land in the arms of another for these waltzes. The entire point of this dance is to explore different faces, after all." Only then does it click for Azul who hums in amusement, seemingly impressed by the sentiment.

"Monsieur Crocodile has not switched partners at all, and the knight-to-be has no intentions of ever handing off the Trickster to anyone else." Azul certainly never coined Sebek to be quite the romantic.

From a distance, you nudged Sebek's shoulder with a cheeky smile. "I suppose this demonstrates the good will between fae and humans, doesn't it?" You teased, only to be met by a reddened Sebek. All the bravado he exhibited during that dance seemed to have disappeared in Malleus's presence, but it's not as if you disliked it.

"R-Right! You are correct, Prefect! This spectacle shall demonstrate the Young Master's benevolence towards humans, as well as all those who represent him!" Sebek rambled, unable to meet you in the eye. Rubbing at the back of his neck, Malleus could only smile to himself in amusement.

It seems that Lilia had won his bet; Sebek will not be expressing the entirety of his true feelings to you today.

[amazinglyashy]

hellow ash! Dropping here since I got hooked from the last post ehe. If it's okay...idk if its OOC but, can you do some shorts or fic on like mc just wanting a peaceful, quiet life? away from fighting or mental battle. Esp Raf and Sy, they canonly seem to be the ones with most hard-core agenda. What if MC just want peace, yet entangled with them is sureway of NOT having that life? can they make it happen? or will they just shield mc in her dream fantasy life while they battle the real world? as we know even mc herself is already target from many unwanted people...so how?? idk sorry for ramblinggg😫😫😫

(its kinda personal since if I could, I'd just live in a small town with a garden like harvest moon game, away from stress and ambitious grasp of capitalism, buttt yea that's a dream only 🥲🙃)

I'm a firm believer that MC is however me and my readers/requesters make them, so no worries about OOC here :D also don't ever worry about rambling, I always love your comments on my posts and works 😭😭❤️ I did my best, hope you enjoy!!

LaDS men when all you want is to live a quiet life -

Sylus -

He knows his way in and out of the world, and every which way to get what he wants. Still, knowing your wishes-

It's hard.

Not because it's not conducive in your relationship, no- he'd give you the world if you so much as asked him. But it is a bit... difficult, to say the least, trying to figure out how to acquire you the life you seem desperate for.

He does understand your reasoning, though.

He would do his best to first make some of his more rural safe houses even more habitable- style choices that fit your tastes, a nook for you to relax in or do work, and anything you could think of that would help with your hobbies. Those houses become your little retreat, and they always have anything you could ever want stocked to the brim.

Luke and Kieran visit you often, or will occasionally take you elsewhere for a day out in town or further in the city. Unbeknownst to you, it's usually when someone has been targeting you and Sylus is... taking care of it behind your back.

Even if he can't stop his work after being so deep after all these years- even if he can't stop the people who are constantly targeting you for simply existed- he's going to do absolutely everything within his power to ensure you get to live the life you have chosen.

Especially with him.

Zayne -

All he wants in life is to help you find your peace.

That's all.

If living a quiet life is what helps you achieve that, then he's all for it.

He may sheepishly admit to you just how worried your Hunter's Association job would make him, wondering if the next gurney wheeled into his operating room would be you after a particularly grueling battle, or after running into the wrong person who had been after you for what nestled within your heart.

So this is definitely a plus to him.

By extension, he's also perfectly fine if you want to be stay-at-home. He makes more than enough as a surgeon to support the both of you extremely comfortably, and he knows that life really... hasn't been the kindest to you.

He's used to a bit of a commute, just trying to fight out of his driveway in the city center, so if you want to live somewhere further out in order to have space to garden, he'll figure out how to make it a reality for you.

Sometimes, he'll come home with something new for you- a type of seed for the coming season, a new book, some fresh supply for a craft you've been working on- anything, and he takes a lot of pleasure in seeing the smile break across your face whenever he does.

Rafayel -

Oh that's easy. Four words-

Beach house + Sea God.

Easy.

Hearing your wish surprises him a little, but it's nothing if not relieving to him.

He's spent forever, and then again, just trying to find you and also ensure your safety- from both up close, and from afar. It's difficult with how much trouble you get yourself into, and with the trouble you don't get yourself into that just seems to find you.

Honestly, this just makes his life so much easier.

Rafayel is so used to soloing against people looking to do you harm or bring trouble to you, so this isn't too much different than what he used to do before you two met again. And if you come to live with him along the seaside, it's that much easier for him.

He's in his element, so discovering anything insidious lurking near is easy, and he can usually take care of the issue long before it could ever reach you, much less get to you and you finally getting to have a breather in life.

One of his favorite things is a quiet day at home with you, sitting high on a ladder as he works on another giant painting, working towards the top just so that he can peer out the window- he loves watching you work on the garden boxes he bought for you, even if you don't notice him yourself.

Xavier -

He's bared witness to everything you've been through- at least the worst of it. Anything he hasn't, you've definitely brought him up to speed with nervous laughs and late night conversation when the two of you were awake past when you should be.

So he knows.

He knows you mean it when you tell him your wish.

He also knows you more than deserve it.

Xavier will smile it off easily, asking you if that isn't already what you've been doing with him- snuggling during the colder months on the couch in his apartment, waiting for him to finish his assignments and come home to a half-finished movie and a stale bowl of popcorn you fell asleep eating. The butter was tacky now like the tips of your fingers against the blanket he'll need to wash tomorrow as he picks you up to take you to bed.

Living somewhere out of the city is doable to him, and he'll let you pick the place. Occasional visits into the city are a necessity, though- how else is he going to supply Jerimiah with the harvests from your gorgeous garden if not? It's a nice little living, in addition to whatever Xavier brings in.

It also helps him really appreciate the smaller things in life. He never really knew how much he would love dancing in the kitchen as the sun sets through the window, until now.

[multiversefanfics]

Girl Of My Dreams (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warning: maybe some cussing? angst, then fluff again Summary: Summary: You work at a small diner down the street from the compound which Bucky visits often, so often that you remembered his order, but things got a little shaken up when Sharon puts her unwanted opinions in it.

You haven’t talked to Bucky in months, every time he comes into the diner you serve him and that’s it. He tries to talk to you, but you tell him you’re busy even if he’s the only one in the diner. It’s not his fault that Sharon said what she said, he can’t control what comes out of other peoples’ mouths, but the whole “75 girlfriends” comment really got to you, he was a very attractive man, so does he actually go out and pick up girls all the time? Is he a player? A lot is going on and you have enough to worry about. Bucky on the other hand, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never felt like this about anyone before, he doesn’t want to lose you, but he knows giving you space may be the right thing to do he doesn’t listen to himself, he keeps trying although you two didn’t know each other for that long Bucky knew that you were the one for him. When he first showed you his arm you were intrigued, you asked many questions about it, and he had no problem answering them.

Bucky has never experienced that type of reaction when he told people about his arm, you didn’t make him feel like a robot or that he didn’t belong you made him happy and Steve and Sam saw that, but of course, Sharon had to go and fuck that up. Bucky stays in his room and only leaves to get food and go to the gym and every time Sharon comes around, he leaves even if he’s in the middle of a conversation and everyone understands they even warn him when she’s about to arrive, so he’s not caught off guard, which Bucky rarely is. There was a soft knock at Bucky’s door “Hey, Buck we were gonna go get some food do you want to come?” No answer, Sam and Steve shared a look and continued on their way, Bucky knew where they were going and after the last time, he was at the diner it was probably best he didn’t go with them.

A short time has passed, and Steve and Sam are at the diner and of course, they are in your section, you walk over and exchange greetings, you’re at work you have to pretend you’re happy. “Y/N please talk to Bucky; he doesn’t leave his room and he feels bad about what Sharon said.” You sighed slightly and rolled your eyes a bit “Why doesn’t he contact his 74 other girlfriends” Sam chuckled and looked you dead in your face “There are no 74 other girlfriends, Bucky isn’t the type to do that, hell I’m surprised at how good he was with you. Bucky is a loner, he’s over 100 years old with no practice when it comes to women, trust us.” Sam’s eyes went from super serious to pleading “Why should I trust you guys, you’re his best friends you could be covering for him.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stared "You don't have to but think about it. Would we really be okay with that type of behavior?" You shrugged your shoulders "I don't know what men think, but I'll think about it. I have to get back to work can you guys stay a bit and give me a ride?" They both nodded and you went to continue your shift, you had plans to talk to Bucky about what was said you just didn't know what you were going to say, and you didn't know what he was going to say.

Finally, your shift was over, and you met up with the guys. "Okay, I'm ready to talk to him." The three of you walked over to Sam's car, Steve opened the front passenger door for you and shut it after you were comfortably in the car, he got in the back and Sam drove to the compound. A short drive later you're outside the compound you take a deep breath and follow them inside, Steve showed you to Bucky's door, and you take another deep breath and knock on the door. "Go away, Steve!" You could hear his voice cracked from the other side of the door which made your heart break in half "It's not, Steve." You heard rapid movement and the door opened to reveal a very tired and sad Bucky. Your heart is now shattered. You did this to him, you hurt him. Well, Sharon did but you felt somewhat to blame. "Hi, Bucky." He blinked a few times and just stared "Y/N..." You rubbed your arm "Can we talk?" He nodded and moved to the side so you can walk in.

His room was dark and a mess. You didn't know Bucky that well, but you knew he wasn't a messy person at all. You sat on the edge of his bed and watched him walk over and sit next to you "Listen Bucky, I am very sorry for ignoring you, that comment really messed me up I like you a lot and I know I shouldn't have let her get in my head but that was the first time we hung out and to hear that I didn't know who to believe, I've been hurt before." You fiddled with your fingers while you tried to figure out what to say next, he saw your hands and gently took them into his. "I have never felt like this in my life, you bring out the best in me even if we only hung out once, the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me, and you confirmed it when I showed you my arm most people look at me and treat me differently, you don't and I appreciate that so much I cannot lose you."

You looked over at Bucky and smiled softly "You're not going to lose me, I'm here." He brought your hands up and kissed both of them "By the way I don't have 74 other girlfriends, I'm really hoping to have 1 that is if you want to." You smiled again and nodded "Of course I would love to." He pulled you into a hug sighing with relief "You already make me so happy" You pulled back softly pecking his nose "Now, why don't we clean up this room and go downstairs and I make us some food" He smiled and nodded his head. You walked over to the windows opening the curtains to finally let some light in the room. After cleaning Bucky's room for about an hour, you both go downstairs and into the kitchen. “Alright, what do you want to eat?” Bucky sat at the island and watched you look around the kitchen “What can you make?” You leaned against the counter and started naming things you could make “Ooh chicken alfredo sounds good” You smiled and started getting all the ingredients out, you looked back at Bucky who was just admiring you “Wanna help?” He nodded excitedly and stood up to come help “Okay, so what do you need me to do?” You looked around for the easiest task you reached over and handed him a pot "Fill this up with some water, maybe about halfway maybe a little more." Bucky can't mess up filling a pot with water, can he? "Is this good enough?" You nodded and instructed him to put it on the stove.

While you were cutting up the chicken you figured the water would be boiling but nope, he never turned the stove on, you giggled to yourself and turned the stove on when he wasn't paying attention. The two of you laughed and cooked. Finally, you were done and ready to eat, you both sat down, and Bucky looked down at his plate in amazement "This looks amazing" The two of you sat there in silence, enjoying the wonderful meal that you two prepared together, when in walks Sharon. You look up in disgust as she walks into the kitchen "Hey, one of Bucky's girlfriends is here, do the others know not to come by?" You could feel your blood boiling again and just as you were about to speak, Bucky spoke up instead "What the fuck is your problem?" Sharon looked at Bucky shocked by what he said but she stood firm "I just want her to know how much of a player you are." You rolled your eyes and continued eating, it seemed like Bucky had this handled, so you sat back and watched. "Y/N is my one and only girlfriend, and it's about time you respect her and me and everyone else in this compound." At this point, Bucky is now standing and staring straight into Sharon's eyes.

Sharon takes a step closer to the island. "Do you really want to go there with me Bucky?" Bucky walked around the island and stood firmly in front of Sharon, now it was time for you to step in you walked up behind Bucky and gently grabbed his right arm "It's not worth it, baby." You felt Bucky's arm relax and he slowly turned his head to look at you "You're right, Doll. Let's go continue our dinner in the living room." Bucky picks up your plates and walks into the living room, he sets them down on the coffee table and stands there with his hands on his hips. "Actually, you know what I have one more thing to say then I'm done." He turned around to face Sharon and took a deep breath "Ever since Steve stopped fucking you, you've been the biggest bitch imaginable, but one thing you are absolutely not going to do is, disrespect Y/N. You don't even know her and honestly, I would love to keep it that way so pack your shit and get out." Both you and Sharon stood there shocked. You never expected Bucky to say anything like that, that was the moment you realized you found the one for you.

Main Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys like it; I tried my best to make it good for you guys. feedback is definitely appreciated along with constructed criticism, please the more the better. Tell me how I can make it better for you guys to read. :)

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scorpiosaintt @buckysdoll85 @grdh90 @thedonswife13 @scott-loki-barnes @b3llair3

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

[kamotecue]

the one that got away ❆ l. williamson

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

summary: after you had torn your acl, it was deemed that you weren't able to return to your football career. so, what happens when you pursued something different, that the one you love, ended up being the one who got away? singer!reader

agony was what the blonde defender felt, it was the agony of losing you - the one that got away, for the english captain it was a relentless ache, the haunting melody of memories that lingers long after the music has stopped. her silent screams, the tumultuois storm of her emotions that threatens to consume every one of her thoughts and feelings. it was definitely a rollercoaster ride of emotions, the experience you both had together as a couple - the deep sense of grief and loss, the emptiness feeling that was impossible to feel, how every thought is consumed by the memories of you - how you'd both dance in the rain, her watching in amusement as you would always make blanket forts during movie nights, how she held onto you close as if you were going to disappear, and lastly, her favorite - the way she'd kiss you in private, how she showed you what it's like to be loved.

yet there it was, the winter of 2011 - you had suffered an anterior cruciate ligament injury making everything fall down, as much as you tried there was nothing that you could do. and so, you had left the football world, despite being the arsenal prodigy. a knock was heard, as you gazed at your bedroom door - the blonde defender had carefully opened the door, she looked at your eyes to see them filled with tears, knowing how this moment would change everything. your career ending injury, the one you sustained was not just a blow to your body, but a devestating blow to your dreams. you had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, to reach the pinnacle of yourcareer, only to have it all taken away in an instant.

"i won't be playing alongside you, as we thought, lee." your voice broke as you buried your face into the crook of her neck. the blonde reaching to softly rub your back, in an attempt to calm you which it did. the sniffles was heard throughout the house, yet all she could do was be there for you. it took you a while to accept circumstance, so you moved onto something else - music was the second, no third thing you loved - besides football, and the english defender. a year later, you took off into the music industry with a storm - you decided to form a band with your childhood friends, performing in sold-out stadiums, releasing a whole album - and it was even worse when the band had even gotten more famous.

in the early days, the love between you two was a bright flame, burning fiercely and passionately. but as your music career soared to unimaginable heights, the glare of fame cast a shadow over their relationship, changing everything. you had never anticipated the level of fame and scrutiny that would come with the band's success. everywhere you went, you were followed by a throng of fans and paparazzi, eager for a glimpse into your glamorous life. in which the pressure to maintain your image became suffocating, and you knew that any hint of scandal could spell disaster for your career. asmuch as you loved the blonde defender, you also knew that being seen with her in public could invite unwanted attention and speculation. that's why you couldn't bear the thought of her being surrounded by the media, or having her privacy invaded - as she loved being private. and so, with a heavy heart, you made the painful decision to push her away, thinking it was for the best.

at first, lee was confused and hurt with the way you acted, the unnesscary coldness. you tried to explain it, to make her understand the pressure you were under, but the damage had already been done, the trust between you two had been shattered, despite your best intentions - it couldn't be repaired. so as the distance between you two grew, your love began to wither and fade - the bright flame that had once burned so brightly was now nothing more than a flicker, barely illuminating the darkness that crept into the relationship. in the end, you were alone - your fame and success, a hollow comfort for the love that you'd lost. you often find yourself pondering, if you made the right choice, if pushing her away had been the only option, but deep down, you knew that the price of fame had been too high, and that you'd always regret the day that you'd let her slip away.

yet there you were, in front of her eyes - performing in front of 90,000 fans. she still loves you, and a part of her is hoping that you still do. and you do, you still do - there are countless nights were you're looking up at the hotel ceiling, a lingering ache in your heart for the love you had lost, the one that could've been yours if fate had not intervened. you'd often wondered how things could've been different if the acl injury had never happened, perhaps you would've never pursued music with such fervor, instead choosing a quieter life by her side. the lazy mornings spent in bed, tangeled in each other's embrace, and peaceful evenings watching as the sun would set, hand in hand. but reality was cruel, and the injury shattered not just your dreams but also the future you had envisioned with her. and as the final notes of your song had faded away, you closed your eyes, imagining for a brief moment that she was there in the crowd, that the blue eyes you had fallen in love with - and when you opened them, she was. a wide smile was seen on her face, as you noticed the tears in her eyes that were begging to drop, she was watching you with pride and love.

the crowd had cheered, as you looked away - greeted them with a small smile, as you bid goodbye. her eyes followed as you left the stage, a concerned look was seen throughout your bandmate's eyes. the crowd began to leave, one by one - yet a dazed look was shown on her face, you saw her, yet you haven't made the effort to do anything. maybe you shouldn't, maybe you couldn't or maybe you didn't have to.

"come on, lee - the concert is done." beth, her club and national teammate said, as a soft sigh was heard. she didn't notice a tour staff had walked her way. you had given orders to invite her teammate's backstage. the defender had only looked up when she took note of the unfamiliar ones, her eyes locked onto someone in uniform, the lanyard confirming that she worked for, or with you.

"ms. williamson, i presume? i was ordered to give you these backstage passes, as well as to escort you backstage." the worker said, as her eyes gazed to the passes in her hands, beth and a few others, their eyes had widened in shock. she slowly stood up before nodding to the girl, as every step began to feel a bit heavy for the defender, you walked back in forth in your changing room - wondering if it was the right choice.

it was, as the team had been led backstage, leah had caught the eyes of your three childhood best friends - people that she also knows, as she formed a friendship with the trio while you were dating. an amused look was seen on oliver's face, as he stood up to greet the team.

"never thought i'd see you again, lee." oliver's charming voice was heard, catching the eyes of his two other bandmate's "childhood friends". a soft smile was shown on archie's and adeline's face.

"neither did i" the english captain's voice was calm, gaining the attention of oliver who softly hummed.

"we've missed you, but she misses you more." oliver replied, he gazed at your dressing room door - it opened, revealing you.

[ataraxiaspainting]

Dealer.

Yan Dabi x F Reader.

Synopsis: Your date at the bar doesn't go so well. While crying, a scarred hand passes you a cigarette without a word.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, violence, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 600.

*~*~*~*

“How did you know?”

The stranger makes no move to answer your question that is laced with slurred wording and sniffles, instead opting to lean against the telephone booth’s door. He holds a mere box of cigarettes, but to you, he may as well be holding your world in his gloved palm.

After a while the man shakes his head, placing the tip of his thumb just beneath the edge of the unlit cigarette. In the blink of an eye, it was lit just like yours was seconds ago.

There are plenty of sounds to be heard tonight in this crowded city – cars revving up to undisclosed locations, people leaving and entering buildings, bright lights that come with little beeping sounds every time they change color. The City of Angels is what it is called, despite it attacking your dreams every evening you decide to give a man a chance.

What you will never forget though, are the sounds of ignition and the man’s grunts as the already dirty air begins to decline in quality. 

This time was no different – your date never showed up and you drank all alone until you could hardly walk.

“How did you know… I smoke?” You ask, inhaling the refreshing scents of smoke and alcohol. If only you had some of the latter to wash down all that overpriced bar food; you can swear that some of the fried dough is stuck between your back molars.

“Seemed like the type, honestly.” The company replies. Your opinion of him is at a standstill – he is both unwanted and wanted, all because of the nicotine-filled sticks in his jacket pocket. If it weren’t for that and you were sober, you’d call a cab faster before he even had the chance to speak to you.

“Am I supposed to be insulted?”

“No. Just an observation of mine.” He then resumes to not looking at you and instead to the inside of the telephone booth. Putting the sole reason you’re talking to him back to where it came from, he takes out a single small coin. It disappears into the slot as he picks up the phone, dialing away. Despite him not saying anything, you cannot hear anything else aside from how his fingers slide back and forth on the rotary dial like a carousel. “Can’t believe they still make these, huh?”

“Oh.” 

You didn’t realize you were staring for a bit too long, but he still hasn’t looked at you since passing along one of his cigarettes.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I get them sometimes. Used to it, you see.” He picks up the phone, leaning it on his shoulder to support it. “Your boyfriend dumped you?”

“He wasn’t really my boyfriend,” You answer, still drunk and not seeing the bigger picture. You’ll see it soon though, after this first encounter. “We were matched online, and this was supposed to be an introductory date.”

“That’s what I hate about those sites,” The man sighs. “They always pair up someone good with someone not good enough for them.”

“I suppose…” You respond, looking up at the smoky sky. With your hazy vision, the stars seem so close – like they can burn you if they want to. “Thanks for the cigarette.”

“Anytime, [First].”

You didn’t hear the other word, but Dabi didn’t care much that he slipped up. You’re drunk, after all. Soon enough ripe for the picking.

[skrrts]

baby blue & silly you (oneshot)

✧ afab!reader x choi san ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, romance, pure fluff ✧ word count: 4k ✧ warnings: pregnancy, mention of being drunk

When San and you quit your jobs to embark on the road trip of your dreams, you didn't anticipate how quickly things would change. After just a few months, future plans suddenly become the present reality. With the realization that there will be three of you in less than seven months, San is now focused on fulfilling another of his wishes: marrying you before your first child is born.

a/n: after some delay, i finally put out another san oneshot. it's semi inspired by a couple i saw on youtube who lived in a van and traveled the states before they got pregnant & san's live the other day how he would gently ruffle his children's hair. there are no major warnings other than pregnancy but there are no medical details, but please be aware for your own comfort. thanks for reading 🫶

San had his arms curled around your waist, his face gently pressed against the side of your stomach while his hand was gently brushing over your belly, that smile which made his face shine so brightly would not go away. In your hands, you carefully turned around the sonogram picture you received from the hospital.

His fingers were drawing soft circles over your belly: “I’m sure it will be a girl. Not that I’d mind a boy! Both will be great but I just have a feeling.”

You couldn’t hold back the chuckle and lowered the photo: “Is that so? You know it’s far too early to say it, you will have to wait at least another two months for that.” 

San looked up to you, gazes met as you reached out to mess with his messy hair. Ever since the two of you had come back from the hospital, you just relaxed in the van like that, your boyfriend insisting you needed to rest. 

The very least outcome you expected to receive was to be told that your stomachache was not caused by the food at the restaurant you two ate at. After checking how poor the reviews were and several guests complaining about food poisoning, you meant to just be sure when the doctor happily told you that you were pregnant. San and you stared at him, asking many times if he was sure and it needed a bit of explaining that your reactions had nothing to do that this was an unwanted child, not at all.

It was simply around five years too early.

Everything between the two of you grew naturally, you took your time dating, to meet all of your friends and family before moving in after one year. San and you did not want to rush through life, instead took all the time and after college degrees, you decided on a dream together: a road trip along the coast, two years without any worries and to be able to do just that, the two of you worked hard, saved up and then sold all of your furniture. The intention was to think of where you’d like to settle down while you travel, then get a small place of your own, marry, and around the time of becoming thirty, have a little family of your own.

It took two people to manage to get pregnant and when you left the hospital to sit down in the van, there was no question just how the baby would arrive five years early. A few months ago, there was this large celebration at a beach you joined in, the ocean at night, fireworks, maybe a drink or two too many, and lots of passion. 

Your road trip only started about half a year ago and it was both, too short and already too far from home. The shock and reality slowly faded into one and all you could do is try and relax because San shifted immediately. He insisted on driving, fluffed up the pillows of your bed, and now, was admiring a stomach that wasn’t telling about the life growing within just yet.

“I think, we should wait a little longer before we tell anyone. I know we are already at the eleventh week but you know. Ah, my mom will just freak out and tell us to get back right away.” 

There was this part of you that did not want to leave this dream just yet, the doctors said you were healthy and as long as you went to your frequent checkups and looked out for your food, it should be fine to go on for another two months. Comfort was another question but that was your first child, you just would pray it would be thoughtful like it’s dad.

“Mhm, I agree. I know that they would support us but worry, also I kind of like it is our little secret just yet and we surprise them with a big photo. People on social media always do those cool things when they tell their parents they will be grandparents soon.” 

San spoke and finally moved up to kiss you, his hand resting against his cheek: “You know how much I love you, Y/N? I know this is not how we imagined it to go but do not worry, I will take care of the both of you.”

You looked at him before chuckling: “Is that so? I feel like I have to look out for an overly excited to-be-dad now.”

You gave him a quick peck on his lips: “I do appreciate how you volunteer to look out for all of my pregnancy needs, mom had some really disgusting food cravings.”

You slowly sat up and San followed, stretching like a cat: “How handy we can bring you right there. Let’s get a few more pillows, yeah? Just so you are more comfortable, but Y/N...”

Suddenly his face turned serious and you turned around, looking at him. “Hm? What is it? What’s with that face`”

Your boyfriend sighed: “If you feel uncomfortable, let me know, any time! I know you feel like we have to push our trip for as long as we can and as much as I’m looking forward our kid gets to experience the world from the start, we can go back any time. You know my parents gladly let us use that little cabin on their property until we figured out where we go from there.”

You leaned over and gently tapped against his nose: “San, one of the reasons why I love you so much is because I know we can talk about anything. I promise you, it will not change, I’ll tell you. We do have some time left to figure out where we want to go. We should adjust our route a little, focus on what we really wanted to see and then, figure out all else.” 

There was a gentle smile on his lips as he nodded and kissed you again: “Okay, let me get dinner ready then! Yes, you will get more rest, even if you tell me you aren’t sick. You were told to take it slow for the rest of the week, so let’s do that!”

Wooyoung made the strangest noises when he was excited and for a moment, San held his phone off his ear. It had been two weeks since you learned about the pregnancy and now it felt like a good time to start planning.

You agreed to wait telling your parents and San intended to keep it that way but there was something else, a surprise you could not know and for that, he was in need for some assistance.

San always intended to propose to you on this trip and then marry by the time you settled again, now he had less than six months for both because the day your child would come into this world, he wanted both of you to wear his name.

“Will I be the godfather? That word is super boring but I am ready to be the favorite uncle! I will babysit for free, like you two will surely want some free evenings and I can come over and look out for her.”

It was funny how he too just seemed to agree the idea of your child to be a girl was natural

“Sh, slow down! That’s not why I called you, idiot,” San laughed but he was happy how his best friend did not judge or ask what happened to their plans, simply embracing his natural excitement. 

“Okay, okay, I am listening. What exactly do you want me to do?” San lurked over to the van, you were relaxing in one of the chairs you put up whenever you settled on a beach, browsing your phone.

This was supposed to be a surprise so he would work carefully and pray that Wooyoung would manage not to ramble about it by accident because he was too excited.

There was a moment when San considered asking Yeosang instead but thinking on how he was his girlfriend’s best friend, he'd feel too guilty to ask him to keep a secret from you.

“I am going to send you a few links, could you call them for me and see if they have a free appointment? I … want to ask Y/N to marry me soonand then, well. We have agreed we continue our trip for two more months and then, make our way home. Probably staying with my parents, anyway. I want the wedding to be amazing! Share it with the baby but also still comfortable for her. So I thought in about a month or two latest would be perfect.”

San spent days to find a location on your travel list that permitted the cliche and sappy beach weddings he loved to watch since he was little. The idea of seeing you walking through the sand in your favorite dress while the sun was setting over the ocean just made his heart melt. 

There was a scribbling sound on the other side of the line, and San knew that whenever it mattered, he could count on his best friend, with no hesitation. 

“Gotcha! I know you two have all of your papers on hand since you are the most thoughtful of the two of us. Then, we only need to figure out the date and payment, what’s the limit?”

San was glad that they just had a normal call and Wooyoung could not see his blushing face: “Ah, the budget… it’s a bit small. I always figured I’d have more time to add to my savings after our trip but I did prepare… just in case. I will uhm send it to you. It really is not too much but I know if the weather’s good and I will just prepare a few things myself, I looked at some tutorials, it’s doable.”

Wooyoung hissed: “Hell, you think your friends won’t gather some money for your wedding? You owe us a big cake when you get back here but count on it, I will give them a call and ask, making sure they know it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, I can sell it without the secret.” 

San pushed his hair back: “You really are something, Woo… Thank you.” 

He laughed on the other side of the line and ended the call. San slowly stood up and walked back to you, your eyes met him when he joined you, leaning down to kiss you gently. 

“How’s Woo?” you asked and put your phone aside.

“Mh, I think we no longer have to worry about him to suddenly showing up here with his own van but I think, he will always be a little pouty about how we went on this trip without him.” 

It had been an odd change, from seeing his best friend almost daily up to deciding to go on this trip with you but it was something San really wanted.

“Tch, he will forget about it by the time he learns he will be an uncle. I am almost afraid he will insist on moving in with us to babysit nonstop.” 

San could not hold back his laugh when you said it and your cheeks colored a little red: “What? I am not wrong, you can’t deny it.”

He shook his head, leaning in: “If anything, I just was thinking how accurate it is, almost as if he told me just that. Guess our daughter will be happy, lots of people fighting over who can babysit her.”

Yeah, as much as you playfully rolled your eyes again, San was convinced that it would be a little girl, with her mother’s temper and maybe his silly smile. He couldn’t wait to meet her. 

As you stepped outside of the van, the scene surprised you a little. San was still busy placing down two piles of buckets and differently shaped sand molds, next to small shovels. When he saw you, he smiled and walked over, lifting you for a moment to place a kiss on your lips.

“Good morning most beautiful woman in the world and my daughter,” he rubbed a hand over your belly which was finally starting to show signs of a progressing pregnancy.

“You sneaked out early, I woke up to breakfast but without my man,” you playfully complained and he winked: “That was because I had to prepare this.” San effortlessly carried you over and gently placed you down in the sand.

“I know we wanted to participate in this silly couple sand castle contest but as it seems we will not get the chance to do this, we just have to challenge one another. The store in town had all that we needed and I figured, we would have use for those anyway,” he pointed at everything.

This really was something only San would remember, when you read the article about it and joked it could be fun, it was just a short moment when waiting for the rain to stop but here he was, making sure you always felt appreciated, your wishes remembered.

“I hope you know I am an expert in the field? I was the number one babysitter in my neighborhood, I have first-class experience in setting up sandcastles,” you teased and San laughed as he settled down too.

“I will give my best then. I would say the winner gets to destroy the other’s, that seems fair and Wooyoung and I spent hours building ours just to tear it down at the end when we were young.” 

Of course, they would do this, it was cute to imagine the two best friends all small and then laughing at each other to ruin their own hard work and effort. 

“Sounds like a fair deal, I accept your challenge, should I set a timer?” You suggested and San nodded. Thirty minutes seemed like a good amount of time and you could not deny, it was a good idea to do it so early in the morning. Now that Summer was at its peak, it was not so easy anymore for you to spend all day outside, the heat was often just a little too much. 

The competition was not something important to you but once challenged, you always gave it your all and before you knew it, you were rather invested in the whole act. You started with the main part of the castle before adding little towers and a small water jump around it, with windows to look through and you even found a stick flying around next to you for a flage replacement.

When the timer was up, you could hear San laugh, and your cheeks blushed when you realized just how much effort you put into the details whereas San’s was not ugly but a little simpler.

“Ah, what to do about it, I feel we do not even have to figure out who the winner is between the two of us,” your boyfriend looked rather proud as he stood up and pulled out his phone.

One of the things the two of you did a lot was taking photos. This trip was meant to be an important memory of your life and you wanted to have many pictures you would be able to show to friends and family but now also, the idea to later show your child how it was born in such an import phase of your lives.

You stuck out your tongue and made a heart when San took a photo of you with your little sand castle. 

“A true queen, pretty but cruel, considering she’s about to tear down my kingdom,” he laughed and leaned in to kiss you but there was a small yelp as you simply pulled him down to you, lips meeting properly as you sighed into it, your arm curled around his neck.

“It’s okay because he’s also the queen’s to be consort and he will always have a home with her,” you whispered, ignoring how sappy this was.

San always enjoyed confirmations, he was almost like a cat receiving gentle head scratches as you ruffled his hair and looked fondly at him.

“How about we destroy the castle together?” you offered but he shook his head: “You won this duel truthfully and the to-be consort is honored it’s his queen that tears it down:”

For a moment, you wondered why he was smiling so knowingly but you chuckled and nodded: “Alright then, I shall be gentle.”

You carefully moved over to the castle and gave it a look, kids would love to build castles with San, he was good at doing things while still paying perfect attention to others.

You felt guilty to tear down his hard work and when you made it to his little tower, you stopped when something caught your eye. There was a small hole in the tower and a blue little pouch lurked out. Your fingers gently pulled it out and your curiosity was stronger than looking at him first.

There was a small paper roll held together by a silver band, your heart was beating loudly as you carefully pulled the ring off, looking at it and noticing how there was a very small but delicate stone set into it. Very likely, San must have prepared this before you left because it was a perfect fit, you knew without trying it on because your gaze wandered over the word.

‘Let’s build a sand castle together. One to stay in together forever, watch our children grow and be in even when we are old and crinkly. Marry me exactly today in two months?’

Tch, who made a proposal with a date already set?

Tears were flowing easily now, your emotions really were all over the place but when San was right by your side, laughing but with a hint of worry. 

“Hey, why are you crying my love?” he hugged you and you just hissed and laughed at the same time.

“You are so silly, proposing to me like that.” Your reaction seemed to ease his worries and he smiled: “Just needed to make sure it’s something memorable.”

It truly was, you finally got yourself together but allowed for him to gentle brush your tears from your cheeks. 

“Then you better hurry and put on that ring yourself,” you whispered. San looked at you, most fondly, full of love.

“I gladly will do that,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, before looking at your hand, the ring perfectly slipped on your ring finger and he lifted it, kissing it just as gently.

“I promise, I’ll forever look out for you, Y/N. No matter where we go and life carries us, I’m by your side.”

Your gazes met and you pushed yourself up a little, your hands resting on both of his cheeks before you kissed him deeply. 

“So will I,” you whispered, the ocean water gently playing with the rocks in the sea, quiet witnesses to your love confessions. 

“If I didn’t know it better, I’d say you are nervous,” Wooyoung grinned and San tried to rub the red off his cheek. Was he nervous? Of course! How often did you marry the perfect person and mother of your first child? 

Time flew by and before hew knew it, the two months were over. You two made the most out of it and there were little regrets. Now, tickets were booked to fly back to your city in two days, so his wife-to-be could settle down comfortably and enjoy the last part of pregnancy without worry . You found a service that agreed to take the van back to the city for a fee together with new cars. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung didn’t share their plans on coming here, they just showed up yesterday and now, San was thankful for, having two best men for the ceremony, it would make this memory even more meaningful. 

“Am I? Well, my best friend planned half of my wedding, how good I trust him completely,” San joked and grinned when Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“Well, you look great. Let’s go then, we do not want the bride to arrive before the groom.”

He wore a loose suit jacket with comfortable white pants and matching shoes, something that matched well with the beach, his hair undone since he knew you loved it more naturally. San fixed it a last time before exhaling, nodding to his best friend to indicate he was ready or well, he hoped he was. 

Thanks to the budget Wooyoung collected, San was also able to prepare a very small private dinner, your best friends to join for a little before it would only be the two of you. The set up at the beach was simple, with the sunset drawing close, there were lamps lightened up and a simple table with flower. San already talked everything through with the woman who held the wedding ceremony and the papers were signed beforehand.

“Are you ready Mister Choi,” she asked with a smile and he nodded. Wooyoung gave him a small pat on the shoulder, grinning but he also seemed somewhat excited. San was playing with his fingers as the three waited and then there you were.

Since it was only your two best friends, Yeosang was taking the role of your father, holding your arm comfortably. It really was quite the TV wedding with that floaty white dress, your belly now very visible with your child growing well and healthy. Instead of a bouquet, you decided you’d rather have a loose flower crown. 

You chuckled and San was just smiling like a fool as he watched you barefoot walking down the beach and he fixed his posture a little to stand proud and tall. When you arrived, Yeosang winked at San before letting go and stepping at your side, San reaching out to take your hand.

The ceremony was short because you did not feel as if you needed big words, instead, San was all lost looking at you, the way your eyes shined brightly, the wind playing with your loose hair, and that smile he fell for back in the day he ran into you at the bakery. 

When the question of all questions was asked, San freed one of his hands, placing it on your belly and he looked at the woman, nodding:

“Yes.”

The second ring was slipped right on the same finger, you insisted you wanted to wear both. The rings were simple but that was okay, neither of you needed anything fancy. It suited you.

His hand was a little shaky when you put the ring on his finger and before anything could be said, you pulled him closer and into a kiss.

Wooyoung was whistling when Yeosang just laughed and clapped his hand. 

“Are you happy now, Mister Choi?” you teased, whispering and he looked at you, kissing your forehead. “Very much, Miss Choi. Now, hold on.”

Your arms curled around his neck and he lifted you up again, still no sign of struggle as he carried you over to the small table set up, your best friends followed, chatting a little. 

For San, it was just you and him right now, the sound of the sea and the wind being guests to remember this day together with the both of you.

“Time for the cake then,” Yeosang kept it inside of the car in a cooling box to keep it fresh. It was small but pretty. You designed it and San could tell so because it looked like a little sand castle and a king and queen sitting on top. 

“Now the most important part, who will be the leading hand in this marriage,” Wooyoung joked with a grin and San loved how you never lacked confidence.

“Is that even a question?” San would lay the world to your feet as much as he could but the two of you were equally stubborn.

“I will take photos,” Wooyoung called out and moved over, preparing the camera, Yeosang stood next to him. 

“Ready?” you asked, the grin a little too mischievously. If he did not know it better, he would say you were up to something but then, it was hard to tell just what it was.

His hand gently placed on yours and he gave you a gentle nod: “Let’s do this.” 

The cake was small but firm, as you two carefully cut out a slice. You handed him a plate and San carefully placed it on a plate, picking up a fork. It was the moment he intended take a bit to offer it to you that his mind started to work.

The filling of the cake was pink. It was the very opposite color to baby blue and he felt silly that it literally took him so long to get it.

He proposed to you with a little sand castle and he thought this simply was why it looked like it but this was you revealing something to him.

There was proof of how Wooyoung’s minds proved to work the same.

The screaming sound of the two best friends happened at about the same moment when Yeosang and you laughed.

“I TOLD YOU IT’S A GIRL!”

[tkaulitzlvr]

SORRY - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you were drinking your sorrows away after yours and tom’s breakup, receiving unwanted attention at the random club you are at, until the last person you expected to see comes to your rescue.

content: angst + smut

a/n: again pulled this out of my ass this is becoming a very common theme LOL. this isn’t what i wanted to post but it’s been a week since i last put anything out so i threw it together, def not my best work and i feel like all i write is angst to smut whoops, hope u all enjoy anyway and thank u for 500 followers!!

the alcohol soon takes over as i down another shot, the liquid burns my throat and only fuels my recklessness. not that i mind, in fact, it is exactly what i need. tonight i don’t want to feel - tired of the everlasting burden of my emotions. i want to be numb, nothing but an empty vessel, letting the alcohol lead the way opposed to my diseased mind. music blares through the speakers, probably loud enough to cause some serious damage to my eardrums. but i don’t know how long i have been at this club for, though it is long enough for my hearing to become accustomed to the thick bass pulsating through my body, no longer wincing whenever i would near the speakers.

intoxicated bodies encircle me whilst i make my way to the centre, some just like me - alone and drinking away their self pity. others dance with their friends, slurred giggles leaving their lips as they sloppily sway their hips to the music, covered in nothing besides their skimpy dresses. those that i envy don’t dance alone, but with a man beside them, hands on their body, faces inches apart. they are able to focus on the one person in front of them, tuning out the hundreds of people surrounding them. but, each person that i see all have one thing in common - they fit in. and i want that too, so bad, instead of feeling so misplaced - that feeling ripe within me, apparent ever since he left.

everyone knew about tom and i’s breakup, hell, how could they not? ‘germany’s biggest heartthrob - tokio hotel guitarist tom kaulitz, parts with model girlfriend after two years!’ - that’s a headline most reporters dream of, christmas having come early for them when the news came out. and it spread like wildfire, his fans - who were particularly notorious for not being entirely fond of tom finding a long term girlfriend - had hit the jackpot. they speculated, some saying that i cheated on him, some insistent on me being too controlling - others even going as far as to say i made him choose between me and the band. but when it came down to it, they were just rumours, plain and simple. no one is aware of the true reasoning behind it - only the two of us knew why we parted.

it was a mutual agreement, yet tom was the one that initiated it. the distance inevitably put between us as a result of him travelling on tours, from continent to continent, state to state, meant that we rarely saw each other, this putting stress on the both of us. i wanted us to work, more than anything, yet the way we drifted apart from each other made it impossible, being with him feeling like a chore as every small disagreement would blow way out of proportion, usually fixed by sex, the cycle repeating for the last few weeks of our relationship, until it reached breaking point. and i didn’t want to be used for my body, though i knew deep down tom loved me for more than that, fixing our problems with physical intimacy was only a temporary solution - leading to us parting ways.

that was one reason for our breakup, however the other was far more serious, and tom wasn’t even aware of it - but i had been speculating for a while. with his frequent travelling, i knew that i wasn’t the only girl in his life. how could i have been? he would go without seeing me for weeks, and whilst he had changed past his womanising ways, it would be stupidly naïve of me to think that he had moved on from that lifestyle completely. or perhaps my mind was tricking me, the loneliness i was often left to increasing the paranoia. though he had never explicitly given me the impression he was cheating, the thought always nagged in my mind, making the breakup slightly easier once he announced that we were no longer working. he promised that he still loved me, that maybe in the future things would work out, but i knew that was just a way to make our separation less bitter.

the constant articles, pictures, videos, and speculations of tom with other women each week lead me to the present, drinking my sorrows away a month after our breakup, wishing that i had never let him go despite agreeing that us parting ways would be the best solution. i was tired too, sick of fighting for a relationship that was no longer there. sometimes it felt utterly one sided, like i was the only one willing to try. tom refused to admit this, reminding me that "i know how much he loves me". however we just didn’t work anymore, his claims of our love like empty spews of desperation, but any words uttered from his beautiful mouth were words of truth to me, until i came to the soul-crushing realisation that he doesn’t adore me the way he did when we first met, all those years ago.

but god, every time i see pictures of him with a girl that isn't me, my heart wrenches at the sight, slowly tearing my insides apart as i recognise letting him go as my deepest regret. and the anger at not only myself, but him for leaving me eats me up, alcohol and temporary fixes being the only thing that can put my ill mind at ease.

but tonight tom isn’t on my mind. i’m desperate, longing for the touch of anyone who will give me the attention. that is why i left the house wearing nothing but a tight black dress that barely passed my mid-thighs. tom would never let me leave the house in such an outfit alone. he was always over-protective over me, loving the idea that I was his and only his. however he had left me, and i don’t care how promiscuous i appear, because admittedly, i am more needy than ever. my body running way ahead of my mind, i move sloppily to the rhythm of the music, feeling two hands grab my waist gently, pulling me into them as i turn around, seeing a tall-ish guy with fluffy blonde hair smirking down me.

he wasn’t tom. he could never be tom. nobody could. not a single person on this earth could even come close to him, could make me feel the way he did, both mentally and physically. right now it doesn’t matter, i don’t care who he is, because, on the surface, he is a male giving me attention, something which i have craved over this last month of loneliness.

"hi there." I utter drunkenly, slurring my words and backing further into him, the alcohol sinking more and more into my system as i no longer care who is dancing with me, this being the first time i have experienced physical touch since tom. and oh god how i’ve missed it. i’m a mess; a desperate, foolish fucking mess. if tom could see me right now, he wouldn’t recognise me. hell, i don't even know who i am anymore - in all honesty i had lost every part of what i thought i was the second he had walked out of the door. somehow, through the alcohol and attractive man behind me, tom is all my mind can focus on - his body the only clear image in there, beyond the fuzziness from the alcohol. i utterly despise the way he has such an effect on me, knowing that he has already gotten over our relationship despite the years we spent together, even before we had started dating, we had been close friends. using all the strength within me, i drown out every thought of him, attempting to enjoy the bitter-sweet freedom and get over him.

"what's your name beautiful?" the mysterious guy shouts over the crowd, tightening his grip on my waist.

"doesn’t matter." i reply. honestly, it didn’t - i probably won’t see this guy ever again, not after fucking him anyway. in any other circumstance, i would be scolding myself for giving myself up so easily, selling myself like some cheap slut. now though, i’m no longer myself, turning to face him, latching my arms around his neck. "what's yours?"

"alex." he responds, clearly not looking to make conversation, his dick appearing to be doing all the talking. "do you wanna get out of here?" he signals to the door, my head nodding eagerly in response, craving for any intimate moment no matter who it is with. part of me convinces myself that i am with tom, that it is him i am leaving the club with, as i would every single time. i imagine that it is him holding me with such adoration, that it is him soothing me in every way possible, yet i know that he is never coming back.

my body pushes its way through the crowd, uttering broken excuse me’s as i walk by, legs becoming weaker by the second as my vision slowly blurs. i soon pick up on the reality of the situation, disgust and shame echoing within me as i realise how fucked up my mind truly is. i am about to have sex with a guy who I have never met before - whether or not tom had broken my heart, i deserved to have morals. the rationality ticking in by the second, i roughly pull out of alex's grasp, his tall frame turning around in confusion.

"i- i have to get to my friends." i lie, totally aware that i came here alone, my words barely audible as my breathing becomes uneven.

"no, come with me, don't be like this baby." he smiles, pulling me along with him, tears soon clouding my vision as the chances of me escaping the situation seem to slip through my fingers before i can gather any sense of what is happening.

"let me go!" i muster all the courage and strength within me and yank my arm away, stumbling backwards into the cold brick wall behind me, the harshness causing me to shiver as i bite the inside of my mouth, praying for something, anything, to take me out of this situation. alex nears towards me, our faces inches apart as he towers over me, my body weak and defenceless against his.

"stop being such a bratty fucking bitch and just come with me-" he begins, grabbing ahold of my arm, only to be pushed to the floor in a matter of seconds, my head looking upwards in confusion to be met with a face i dreaded and longed to see at the same time.

"fuck off!" tom begins, squaring up to alex, who is useless against him, the height difference almost humorous. if i hadn’t been scared for my life seconds prior, i probably would’ve laughed, though the only thing i am truly able to process is the confusion that soon replaces any fear within me. "you ever go near my girl again and i'll break your fucking jaw. you understand, hm?" he shouts, alex smiling to himself and walking away, clearly not looking for a fight, though his cold glare moments ago said otherwise. his girl. i am everything but, closer to being the complete opposite, though i am too startled to consider questioning his words right now.

my body refuses to move, paralysed in utter shock, wondering whether the alcohol is causing me to hallucinate. i hadn’t seen tom since the day i moved out of his house, and now he is standing in front of me. and fuck, he looks good. it doesn’t matter that it has only been a month, somehow he seems to look much better, and undeniably different. his hair, usually a dark shade of blonde, the thick locks tied into a ponytail, adorned with whatever cap matched his outfit, is changed, almost so drastically it is hard to recognise him. instead, jet black braids rest on his shoulders, the colour mirroring his entire outfit - dark and cold. his cap is replaced with a small bandana, fitted securely around his forehead, the silver piercing on his lips now just as dark as his hair, matte black, making the soft shade of pink on his lips stand out even more.

though his new look is certainly a shock, the more daunting realisation comes merely from his presence. he is here - standing inches away from me. i am unable to gauge his next move, his expression still just as harsh as it had been once he had threatened that guy. however, any doubts i have are quickly put to bed, his tensed frame nearing mine, planting a calloused hand on my shoulder before pulling me into a tight hug, his thumb caressing my lower back whilst his other hand rests in my hair. i sob into his chest, failing pathetically to hide my emotions as i cling on to him, my small frame shaking due to the cold berlin weather and my irrational state.

"i’m so sorry." he mutters, resting his head on top of mine. i cannot respond, choking on my tears and unable to do anything but hold onto him as if he may slip away. my vision is slowly blurring, the countless drinks i had making their appearance as i realise how badly i have fucked up by coming here. beyond my intoxicated state, i realise that i don’t want to be this close to tom. i long to scream at the top of my lungs, something about how he made me feel, how fucked up he is, and how much i hate him, but right now i am too shaken to even stand up alone, so i save my breath and prepare to spew my feelings out when i have the energy.

"we need to get you home." he mutters, pulling away after a couple minutes. i stare into his eyes for the first time since we broke up, his immediately filling with hurt once he registers my damaged expression. "god, this is all my fault." he whispers under his breath, guiding me to his car, grabbing his jacket that he always kept in the back for instances like this, knowing that i get cold easily. it brings me some comfort knowing that he kept the jacket there, though it probably means nothing. he places it gently over my shivering frame before climbing into the driver’s side and beginning to drive to my apartment. the house that tom and i shared was in his name, meaning that i insisted on moving out. despite us breaking up, he helped me find a place, a decent sized two bedroom apartment in the heart of berlin. though it wasn't nearly as perfect as our home, it was something, and i am grateful for it.

i face away from him, not willing to forgive him despite my vulnerable state just moments before. no matter how much he protected me just then, i can’t place my trust in him, my heart and mind still wary, the thought of him discarding me for other girls so nonchalantly after we parted fresh in my mind.

"i missed you." he announces into the empty silence, his head turning in my direction whilst i scoff in response. "don't lie to me tom." his words bring anger coursing through my veins the second they utter from his mouth, sobriety soon taking over me as the alcohol quickly wares off. if he missed me, he wouldn't have fucked every girl he has seen this past month, he would have come back, or better yet, he wouldn’t have left me in the first place.

"i'm telling the truth." he begins, hesitantly turning his gaze to meet mine, my eyes filling with tears before i can attempt to collect my composure. "i regret leaving you. i need you to-"

"do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? i haven't been eating, sleeping, you've just seen me almost have sex with a guy i'd barely known for five minutes for gods sake!" i shout, my voice breaking as the tears cascade inevitably down my cheeks, unable to hide my vulnerability in this moment. he winces slightly at the mention of me nearly sleeping with alex, his grip on the wheel increasing whilst his jaw is clenched.

he is hurt. i have known him long enough to be able to distinguish how he is feeling without him saying a word. the pained look on his face almost pleases me, glad to see him guilty over the emotional turmoil he has caused me, because i long for him to grasp even a small segment of how i feel, and my small outburst has definitely achieved that.

"i’m sorry. i never deserved you, now even less than ever. i fucked up, badly. i have no idea how to make it up to you. help me, please schatz. i want to be better, for you." he finishes, pulling into his driveway as the dark grey gates open, revealing the house that i share so many memories in, yet it feels strangely foreign, like i don’t belong here, and i never did.

"sure doesn't seem like it." i begin. "from everything i've seen online you seem to have gotten over me pretty fast. thought you were better than meaningless sex, but i guess not. same old tom." i scoff, shaking my head in disbelief of his empty words.

"what are you talking about? i haven't had sex with anyone. not since you anyway." he fires back, staring into my eyes, and for some reason, i don't think he is lying, the amount of time spent with him across my life meaning i can read him like a book.

"whatever, i don’t have the fucking energy for this. besides, you said you were taking my home. this isn’t my house anymore, incase you fucking forgot.” i state matter-of-factly, not in the mood for continuing this conversation, or even being around him.

"you can barely walk. no way was i leaving you to go home alone. you can spend the night here." he replies assertively, stepping out of the car as i do the same, slamming the door shut in frustration.

"you don't have to protect me tom. we aren't together anymore." i respond bitterly, looking down at the ground, wishing it would swallow me up. his hand gently grazes mine, testing his limits as he attempts to take his hand in mine, to which i quickly refuse, pulling away and looking at him in confusion.

"what are you doing?" i hiss, looking upwards as he puts his hands up, surrendering.

"sorry just, please come inside, you're freezing in that tiny dress." not having the energy to argue, i reluctantly sigh, following him inside, taking in the all too familiar surroundings and immediately reminiscing on all the memories i have here, longing to go back to the time when things weren't so complicated.

"look i-" tom begins, however his words are soon shortened to a stop as i quickly cut him off, lethargic and carrying a lack of effort to argue with him, because i know that no matter how long i let him speak, the conversation will only end badly, turning even more sour than it already is right now.

"i'm tired, please can we talk about this in the morning." i sigh, my head pounding as i groan out in pain, massaging my temples slowly and closing my eyes.

"okay, you take our- my bed and i'll sleep in the guest room. there's some of my hoodies in there for you to sleep in." he responds, a look of defeat evident among his complexion, relief coursing through me as i nod my head, walking up to his bedroom. the countless nights i spent in this room, wrapped in his arms, the countless mornings i woke up to his affection, the countless evenings we shared intimate moments all seem to be lost as i feel a stranger here, almost misplaced without a sense of belonging.

i open the wardrobe, immediately knowing which door has his hoodies from when i would often steal one, something he is used to me doing. i pick out my favourite one. it is simple - a white hoodie with writing printed across its front. to others, it holds little meaning, however even after our breakup, it holds thousands of memories, because it is what he wore when we had our first kiss, and the first piece of clothing he ever gave me, this small act something i won’t ever be able to forget. slipping my dress off and the hoodie over my head, his scent quickly envelops me, providing with all the security i have been longing for, my mind quickly breaking down as tears cloud my vision, my desire to have him holding me taking over as i wish that we would have never parted.

climbing into the soft sheets, i attempt to fall asleep, any element of lethargy in my body fading away as i crave to be in tom’s arms like i have been each time i have laid in this bed. his side is cold and empty, my body shuffling over to it as i snuggle into his pillow, reaching out pathetically to any remnant of him i have left. seconds feel like hours of me thinking of him, wondering if he cares anywhere close to the extent that i do, finding myself longing to take a small look inside his mind, because all i want is his love. the darkness encloses me, silence echoing throughout the empty house and only fuelling my wandering mind. every thought flashes back to him, and i loathe how he can consume my entire being without even being aware of the effect he has on me.

eventually, my eyes begin to droop, almost falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber, however before i can do so, the door creaks open, light from the hallway leaking into the bedroom, before it is cast out seconds later with the soft click of the door closing, footsteps nearing the bed as i feel it dip beside me. my body is afraid to move, instead laying still in confusion until i feel a single hand brush against my shoulder, causing me to whip my head around, tom’s eyes gazing into mine.

‘i can't do it." he mutters, scanning my eyes with his own, only the seas of brown are filled with sorrow, slightly distinguishable through the darkness.

as much as i want to tell him to leave, to scold him for disturbing me when i was finally close to falling asleep, i simply can’t. i am compelled to him, silently thanking his impulsiveness and finding myself pleading for us to work things out.

"can't do what?" i respond, laying on my side and facing him, our bodies at each side of the bed as he is slightly reluctant to push my boundaries.

"live without you, i can't do it. i need you." he replies, slowly reaching his hand out until it meets mine, his fingers clasping mine in the centre of the bed, this small act of physical affection being the only thing that binds us together, yet it is more than enough.

"you broke me tom." i whisper, blinking away the tears as i refuse to cry again, tired of being so vulnerable around him. “do you realise that?”

"i know, and i’m so sorry schatz. i’ll never be able to make that up to you. but i want to try, can you let me do that? please baby." his body slowly nears mine, until our faces are inches apart. he removes his hand from mine, my face falling in disappointment, however this quickly turns into curiosity as it moves only to reach up and caress my cheek, wiping the single tear that had fallen with his thumb. i wither helplessly into his touch, feeling completely and utterly trapped within his affection. i am bound to him, left hopeless and attached. no matter how much i try fight, it is useless, my body and my mind is unable to function without him.

"it’s only you schatz." he mutters, his face nearing mine as he captures my lips in a sweet kiss, the first one we have shared in over a month. the way his lips fit so perfectly with mine, their softness contrasting with the harshness he showed me all those weeks ago, makes me wonder how i managed to live without this feeling all this time. he is a drug, his kisses addictive as i find myself longing for more, desperate to make up for the lost intimacy as a result of our separation.

"i love you." he whispers against my lips, reattaching them almost immediately with even more desire than before, sealing every unspoken apology in the most beautiful way possible. the darkness between us is a barrier, preventing my vision from witnessing the man above me. tom reaches quickly to flip the bedside lamp on, faded yellow light leaking dimly around the room, illuminating his features as i can finally see every part of him. and oh god, is he perfect. his lips plump and parted, tinted with a rosy shade of pink, adorned with that same piercing that drives me crazy each and every time, tired and shaky breaths erupting from them whilst i stare into his eyes, deep pools of brown that i could get lost in if i look for too long.

his body. crafted by god himself - concrete proof that he really does have favourites. each inch of skin soft and sheen, resembling silk itself whilst my fingers slowly trail down it, melting into the pale surface , past his chest to his chiselled abs, gently grazing the muscle and refusing to break eye contact. my hand creeps lower and lower, tom becoming increasingly flustered until they reach the waistband of his boxers. at an agonisingly slow pace, my finger slips inside, fiddling with the waistband whilst touching the skin there, refusing to move my hand any lower whilst i take in tom’s expression. his eyes are flickering between being fully closed and half-lidded, barely noticeable wrinkles lining his forehead as his eyebrows knit together, lips parted with shaky breaths uttering from them, the cold air fanning onto my face, heavy against his warm kiss.

"fuck- please don't tease." he whispers, resting his forehead against mine and beginning to slowly kiss my lips once again, my body feeling full again as i soon realise how much i missed this feeling. complying with his plea, my hand slips further into his boxers, a choked breath muffling into my mouth as i begin to gently move my hand up and down. he struggles to kiss back, soft moans escaping from his lips and mixing into mine in the most delightful way possible as i pick up the pace.

"oh my god..." he trails off, his voice vibrating into the soft skin below my ear once his head falls just below it, my movements not slowing, the slight whines emitting from his mouth pushing me further, desperate to please him. the fast and sloppy kisses being placed onto my neck soon slow down, giving me the signal that he is close. he clutches onto my waist, his fingers running up and down whilst his legs slightly tremble, his release taking over as he lets out a loud groan, a string of curses following until he slips his boxers off, regaining his composure and climbing fully on top of me.

our faces are inches apart, my ragged breathing echoing my desperation to feel him inside me, because it has been so long since i have experienced the feeling, and it is like no other. his thumb runs along my lips, pulling the bottom one downward slowly and releasing it, before moving his head to the nape of my neck, placing slow and gentle kisses.

"you have no idea what i want to do to you schatz." he mutters against my skin, nipping at it gently, these words alone almost being enough to let go, to lose any remnant of composure i have and allow him to take me right there and then. his calloused hands reach for the large hoodie draped over my frame, pulling it over my head as i am almost completely naked, my underwear being the only barrier between us and exercising those silent promises of our love on the tips of our tongues.

"so perfect." he whispers, caressing my cheek lightly. pressing himself against me, his hand reaches to caress my now exposed breast, kissing and biting at any skin he can get access to, inaudible spews of satisfaction swallowing the silence surrounding us, my hands pushing his head further downwards ever so slightly, savouring the pleasure and wishing it would last forever. he slowly pulls away, maintaining eye contact as he reaches for my panties, swiftly tugging them downward and discarding them somewhere across the room, like the rest of our clothing.

skin to skin, the warm and bare air a mirror to our nakedness, we kiss with such hunger, such desire that our need for each other is palpable, so strong that i swear if i tried, i could feel it. because he is that love, his body living and breathing evidence that this love is real, not something that can only be felt inside, though the fire that his touch ignites within me is one that will burn forever, as long as he vows to supply the heat that is his affection. my hands clutch onto his back, his roaming my waist and pushing our hips into each other, ragged breaths echoing throughout the room as i find myself becoming too impatient. although part of me wants to savour this moment as it is our first special one in over a month, one part of me, the more irrational side, wants him to ruin me, wants him to claim me as his own and do whatever his heart desires. i am his to destroy, because if it means that i can be with him for eternity, then i am willing to do anything.

"tom…i need you." i whisper helplessly against his lips, no longer able to mask my hunger.

he places one final kiss to my lips, stroking my hair gently and positioning himself to my entrance. my eyes squeeze shut in anticipation, relishing this feeling and preparing for the intense pleasure that i have been so empty without.

“then i’m all yours.” he speaks softly, sliding into me slowly before i am able to repeat my desperate plea. because if i tried, i know that my speech would be inaudible, struggling to breathe at the feeling of him filling me up.

unaccustomed to his size, or any dick for the last month, i wince in pain before he is even halfway in, gripping his bicep and giving him the signal to stop. "wait a minute." i state breathlessly, biting down on my lip as he stops his motion, gently stroking my cheek with his palm and awaiting my permission to carry on. feeling him stretch my walls fills the hole within me, once hollow and empty, however the pain takes longer to subside, tom slowly biting and kissing the sensitive skin on my jaw whilst he waits.

"c’mon baby, you can take it." he mumbles against me, the raspiness within his voice vibrating up my spine, motivating me to tune out the pain and allow him to pleasure me. "okay." i whisper, pleasure soon starting to take over as he moves into me, stopping and throwing his head back as he bottoms out, his tip hitting my g-spot perfectly, this being enough for me to cry out, my screams echoing throughout the room, the air thick with passion. his eyes are screwed shut, sweat lining along his forehead, his breathing ragged and uneven, yet he only increases his stamina, picking my leg up and placing it over his shoulder.

the new angle sends me into euphoria, my vision turning white as i can do nothing but scream his name, my fingers raking down his back. he memorises the way he hits my g-spot, doing it over and over again, bringing me closer to my release, yet i can tell he is not there yet, prompting me to hold it so i can share my high with him.

"fuck me..." his voice trails off, his eyebrows furrowing as he savours the pleasure. my legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer inwards, if that is physically possible. somehow he is still going, not showing any signs of lethargy. he is desperate to meet his release, hips snapping against mine with such intensity, his head buried in the crook of my neck, the incoherent groans escaping from his mouth fanning over the bare skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"tom i'm so close!" i moan, knowing that i will not last much longer. i do not know if it is the absence of sexual intimacy in my life recently, or my intense desire for him, but this time around, my ability to contain myself is long gone.

"i know baby, i know..." he sighs out, the feeling him twitching inside of me silently letting me know that he is almost there too. "just hold it for me." overstimulation soon takes over, the feeling of him moving in and out of me providing me with such overwhelming pleasure that my mouth gapes open, no sound escaping as i am utterly speechless, drunk on the sensation and a complete mess beneath him. i could cry at the feeling, on the verge of tears with each stroke, wondering how this moment is reality, seeming entirely too good to be true.

"okay baby, let go." he breathes out, his voice shaky as it is soon cut off with a choked moan, his load shooting into me as mine soon follows. i swear i can see stars, my eyes not able to stay still, my whole body the same as it trembles uncontrollably, tom’s slow and steady thrusts sending me into oblivion as he rides out our highs, his lips hovering over mine. "oh my god" is all he can say, still inside me, his mouth eventually moulding with mine, the kiss filled with so much energy despite the amount of stamina that was used just seconds before.

i am not done yet, my body feeling like it has just started as i have the motivation to go one thousands times over, addicted to the way he feels. "let me be on top." i mutter against his lips, the pillowy skin battling to try continue kissing me. in one swift motion, he flips us over, moving upwards so that his back is resting against the headboard, his hands placed steadily on my waist whilst i sit on top of him. i waste no time, hovering over him and sliding downwards, letting him fill me up and sighing loudly as i do, tom tightening his hold on me and muttering a slow ‘jesus christ’, his voice low, words as sweet as honey as they sound from the back of his throat.

pressing open mouthed kisses against my jaw, neck, collarbone, anywhere he is able to access, he groans out in pleasure, his hands remaining steadily on my hips whilst i easily maintain my rhythm. with a slight change in the movement of my hips, his tip presses against my g-spot, the friction causing me to cry out, him doing the same as his head falls backwards, eyes squeezing shut, savouring the ecstasy. my hands lay flat against his chest, watching it heave up and down with each unsteady breath he takes, his muscles flexing with each squeeze of my waist, this only encouraging me to go further, the sight of him being pleasured by me almost pushing me to my release alone.

the feeling so good i question whether i have reached heaven itself, though my actions won’t get me anywhere near, my mind wanders how i survived for so long without him, without his dick inside me, without his hands on mine - because right now he is my oxygen, my sole purpose. i can barely catch my breath, my legs shaking uncontrollably whilst my hips circle around his, feeling every inch of him inside of me. my body leans forward, skin to skin, as i bite down on his shoulder, becoming increasingly tired, however i am so desperate for my release that i continue my slow and lethargic movements.

tom is quick to pick up on my change in speed, grabbing my hips once again and angling himself correctly, before thrusting into me from below, the sudden pressure causing a throaty moan to escape from my swollen lips.

"fuck…missed this, missed you so much baby." he mutters, his whole body tensing for a second whilst he begins to twitch inside of me.

"i’m close." he groans, meeting my lips in a sloppy kiss before i can respond. i don’t even bother trying to hold it, instead allowing my release to take over me, my vision turning white as i cling onto tom’s shoulders, my head buried in the crook of his neck, crying out in pleasure as it is so intense i almost feel myself slip away. his release soon follows, mouth gaping open, eyebrows furrowing and sweat glistening his chiselled frame, outlining his muscle in the most attractive way possible. he still strokes in and out of me slowly, his hands wrapped around my small frame, no space between us. my breathing ragged, hair a mess and body trembling, i pull away from his shoulder to look into his eyes, pressing my forehead against his as i can do nothing but admire him.

“shit- i love you so much." he manages to breathe out, moving a few stray hairs from my face and planting a last kiss on my forehead, slowly pulling out of me, the loss of contact making me whine slightly as i cling onto him, afraid of losing him ever again.

"i love you too." i respond, certainty uttering from every word as i find myself more in love with him, the best sex we have ever had replaying over and over again in my memory, our naked bodies pressed together.

"i promise you, i never slept with anyone else. i never even kissed another girl. i couldn't, it wouldn't have been right, not when you were the only person on my mind." he speaks slowly yet firmly after a few seconds of peaceful silence, pulling my body further onto his as he rests his forehead against mine, stroking my hair gently.

i move my head upwards, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "why not? there's so many girls that you could've had. what was stopping you?" i ask, lacing my hand with his and beginning to play with his fingers, the skin soft and smooth.

"the fact that they weren't you." he responds, gently lifting my chin upwards with his pointer finger, tenderly running his thumb along my cheek. "i never got over you. i hope you know that."

deciding that actions speak louder than words in this instance, i place my lips on his, sealing our love with a sweet kiss as he instantly kisses back, laying downwards flat against the bed whilst i am still on top of him. i slowly pull away, my entire body aching, eyes fluttering shut as a tired yawn escapes from my mouth. tom reaches over to turn the lamp off, laying down beside me and opening his arms out, my head resting on his chest, his thumb running comfortingly up and down my arm. "goodnight meine liebe." he whispers, my throat sore from our rendezvous, so i place a quick kiss on his chest in response, my eyes falling shut as sleep takes me. our legs entangled, bodies together, heartbeats aligned, i feel him now more than ever. not just physically, but i feel him mentally, spiritually, our mind and being merged together as one.

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