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sohin-ace · 3 years

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Abbachio - Hangover

You walked inside the headquarters that you titled your home.

It was half past 3 A.M and you knew fair well everybody in the team was staying here for the night, and were most likely sleeping soundly like babies at this hour.

And so, with velvety steps and calculated slow movements, you entered the porch and quietly closed the door, moving in the dark as silently as possible.

You had just finished a tiring mission and the one thing you desired most at the moment was to crash into bed, maybe marry it since you were at it, barely thinking about the sticky blood, sweat and dried river water that stained you during your mission.

You huffed and kicked your shoes off, liberating your aching and swollen feet from them, directing yourself towards the kitchen to fetch some well-deserved water that your throat was oh-so desperately screaming for.

You were shocked to find the room lit at this hour. Your first thought was that Bruno was probably still awake and having a small break from his neverending pile of work.

Your expression completely fell, however, upon seeing that Bruno was not the one occupying the kitchen but someone else, greeting you with a heart breaking sight.

"... Leone?"

The male was slumped over the table, his head buried in his arms with one hand holding onto a spilling wine bottle, burgundy liquid running everywhere onto the wooden surface, the floor, and onto the male's clothes. Even some strands of his splayed out hair drank up the alcohol, dying them from silver to violet.

You gasped at the mess but was even more shocked by the implications behind said mess. He didn't even bother taking a glass, prefering downing the wine directly from the bottle. He wasn't planning on holding back tonight and it alarmed you.

You knew of Abbachio's tendency of alchoholism, but he was never so drunk as to black out this way and you weren't sure he would even be able to work tomorrow, or do anything else, for that matter.

"Leone..." You slowly approached his hunched over form and gently shook him. "Caro, wake up."

No response.

With you being all alone in the middle of the night, there weren't much you could do. But there were no way you'd ever leave him in this state.

Shaken with worry, you only did what your heart told you and moved the bottle away from his grip. It was almost empty at this point anyway.

You brushed his long hair to the side to let some fresh air cool his face down while you cleaned and mopped the tiled floor and table. Oh you'd make sure to lecture him about that later.

You thought about him, sitting next to you as you cleaned up. How tormented he was and how, just like the wine bottle, he spilled himself out in secrecy.

You bit back your tears. He was so alone. Tortured. It hurt you that your Leone, whom you loved so much, had to go through a trauma you could never heal for him. Or even soothed in the slightest. You were grateful that he even remotely accepted your affection, but still.

It wasn't enough, for you.

"I wish I could help you, Leone..." You murmured and caressed his soft hair, revealing more of his peaceful face, his smeared makeup not tainting any of his beauty.

Your heart clenched, he looked so calm, so sweet. How did he manage to make grief look so gentle, you would never know. You almost didn't want to move him and disturb him, but you had to.

Carefully holding his shoulders, you pulled him up, his weight much heavier than you'd have expected, even thought it should be no surprise. Abbachio was a burly man.

You craddled his head and placed him in a proper up-sitting position and he groaned.

"Uugh... Hhmmm..."

"Leone, wake up, love." You still held his face against your chest and patted his cheek to wake him, scared that he'd sway and tumble over if you let go of him. "You gotta go to bed. Come on."

"Hmmm.... Sssuuuree...." He mumbled, words slurred.

He was surprisingly compliant, you thought. When you were certain he could hold his own head up, you let go and grabbed his wrist, still drenched in wine.

You hooked his arm around your shoulders and wrapped your own around his torso. He made the effort to stay in balance while you hoisted him up to his feet, not without struggle and effort on your part.

You stumbled a bit, but managed to get him up, at least, holding onto him for dear life as you maneuvered his much heavier body around the kitchen.

He counted on you for support and was close to falling sleeping on you as he snored against your hair, the stench of alcohol reaching your nostrils. Man, why did he have to be the heaviest male of the group?

You brushed your exhaustion from the preceeding mission to the side and dedicated yourself to helping Leone. Rest could wait.

Thanks to the help of your Stand, you ended the course safely back to his room and opened the door, having more hands to do so.

You let him down to sit onto his bed as gently as you could and you felt he was about collapse again.

You instantly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him slump over your chest.

"Woa- Don't lay down just yet! I need to get your clothes off."

He only purred some low nonsense, as if to show his annoyance to you. Well, maybe he desperately wanted to sleep, but so did you.

"Don't 'brrr' at me, boy. You're the one who spilled wine all over your pants and top!" You scolded to deaf, or rather drunk ears. Not like he was listening to you, but still.

Huffing a bit, you took hold of the lace on his top and untied it, letting you slide the rest off his broad shoulders and back. It was much easier to slip the sleeves off afterwards, and you were almost proud of yourself.

"I'm gonna be such a good mom." You joked to yourself as you caringly held onto Leone's warm back and head to gently place him down on his bed before taking his shoes and pants off.

Once this was done and not without a pause to catch your breath, you went to the bathroom to grab a towel, dampening it in warm water before you came back to him and sat by his side. He had already fallen fast asleep, and was looking awfully adorable, if you were honest.

" 'Clumsy brat'," You chuckled with a whisper as you wiped the wine off his skin and the sweat and tears off his neck and chest. "That's what you always called me. Ironic."

You looked fondly over at him as you finished your self-assigned task, closing off by wiping his left hand. You thought over your options.

Maybe it was the fatigue blurring your moral code. Or maybe you were just blinded by this crazy thing called love. Perhaps he was just an enticing wizard who cast a spell on you with his lips. Whatever it was, you foolishly decided you would kiss him after you removed his make up, and so you did.

You gently removed what remained of his make up that wasn't washed out by the crying and the drinking. You sighed at your good job and leaned over, running your fingers delicately over his skin.

"This is probably wrong." You hesitated, questioning your choices, yet feeling brave. "But I think I can at least have that, right...? Pardon me for this, Leone."

You closed the distance between you both to press your lips ever-so-sweetly on his own, wanting to linger, but not quite feeling deserving enough either. It was short-lived but precious and tingly. You felt your heart flutter and you swore you also felt his hand twitch slightly next to you.

You sighed. You yearned for more. You wished you could just collapse and fall asleep by him. Your responsibilities thankfully got the best of you.

"I love you. Please love yourself too, we all want to see you better. I know I do. Depend on me sometimes too, okay?" You breathed out to him, secretely hoping he heard you in his dreams and maybe accepted your selfish and heartfelt request.

You were tired. You needed to sleep and you were afraid you'd act more and more foolishly if you stayed with him any longer.

You reluctantly leaned away from him and got up, making sure to tuck him in thoroughly inside the blankets before you left.

You'd leave a note to Bruno to not wake him up in the morning.

When Abbachio woke up in the morning, much later than he usually did, he was disappointed, yet not surprised to be struck with a splitting headache.

"Fuck..." He groaned, holding his heavy head in his hands, "Not again..."

He inhaled deeply only to realise he was strangely met by a sweet familiar scent mixed with the stinging wine he drowned himself in.

Out of doubt, he looked over the bedside table and found a water bottle and some aspirin as well as a small note.

He grabbed the note and squinted at it, trying to read it with his still hazy eyes.

'Water helps with hangover headaches. Tablets too, obviously :P . Take it easy, Bruno gave you the day off.'

Was that you? That was most definitely you, he thought. And that fruity scent on his face and hands must be you too. There were no doubt now.

It didn't take him long to put two and two together. He would have been much quicker-witted if he wasn't so hungover. He remembered you had a mission last night, you probably went home by then and helped him to bed out of sheer empathy, sweet as you were.

Abbachio sighed and rubbed his face. He was both ashamed and extremely grateful towards you. It must have been so draining to come take care of him after you risked your life out there.

God he felt like shit. Again, he was being a burden on the people he loved, all because of his selfish choices. But knowing you, you'd probably hate him thinking that of himself, and tell him you were fine with it and happy to help. You had such a kind heart.

"... How did she even get me upstairs...? This tiny dwarf."

He groaned and sat up, smoothing his fingers over his lips. He blushed at his own thoughts. He swore he dreamt of you kissing him as he was asleep, and the feeling was still pretty vivid.

But he couldn't be sure. Drunken dreams were weird sometimes.

Thinking of making it up to you, he took the medicine and downed it with water, his mind filled with thoughts of you only.

He deserved at least that.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #writing #x reader #reader insert #leone abbacchio #abbachio #leone abbachio x reader #abbachio x reader #part 5 #jojo part 5 #golden wind #vento aureo

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irrelevantwriter · 3 years

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House Call

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, reader being scared and horny, Rio’s BDE (y'all know what's up)

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Part 1. Rio shows up unannounced to talk business. Among other things.

A/N: It’s here...it’s happening. It took me a whole 2.5 seconds to become obsessed with Rio once I started watching GG. Ya’ll know how I roll. Anyway, this is me just dipping my toe into the water. I didn't get too deep with a plot (spoiler alert: there isn't any). It’s essentially just reader-insert into the show’s current plot, but with some smut thrown in. For fun. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Added a Part 2! Read it here.

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

“You okay?”

The sound of your friend’s concerned voice filled the line, pulling you back to the moment and the conversation you’d been engaged in before you’d burnt yourself in the spray of hot water.

“Yeah, just washing dishes.” You explained, cradling your cell between your shoulder and cheek as you maneuvered dirty dishes under the spout of water.

“So the meeting with the principal? How’d it go?” Rachel asked, getting you back on track.

You sighed, beginning to scrub at a stubborn coffee stain left behind on one of your favorite mugs.

“Fine. The kids are still having a hard time with the divorce so it’s…” You paused, unsure of how to describe the child-like brooding your son and daughter had taken to participating in since you’d separated from their father.

“Tense? Difficult? Weird?” Rachel listed off helpfully.

“All of the above.” You deadpanned, still scrubbing.

“You take the rest of the day off?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do with these kids. Paul said he’d come over later to talk it over.”

“How incredibly thoughtful of him.” Rachel replied, sarcasm and disdain dripping from her words.

“Well, it’s a start. And as much as I’d like to tell him to fuck off, I can’t. He’s still their dad.” You explained for the hundredth time, feeling the stress of your situation with your ex starting to creep into your body. Your shoulders felt stiff and your head began to throb with a dull ache. It was a familiar reaction these days. One you loathed.

You opened your mouth to steer the conversation elsewhere when the doorbell rang, chiming throughout the empty expanse of your home.

“Paul?” Rachel asked, obviously hearing the alert of someone’s company over the phone.

“I guess. Look, I’ll call you later.” You said with another sigh, this one more tired than annoyed. You gave up on the stained mug and moved onto drying it, shutting the water off as you did.

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” You ended the call, aware that you were short with her, but unable to feel sorry for it. You had plenty of other things to worry about, none of which involved your shitty ex or his new girlfriend.

You placed your cell on the counter and turned to make your way to the entryway, mug still clutched in your hand. The ceramic cup dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces when you saw who was already in your kitchen. You gasped, clutching your chest and yelping at the familiar man in black, the dark ink splattered across his throat the first thing you noticed. Your heart leapt, your body going rigid at the unexpected visit. Pop-ups like this were never a good sign.

“I let myself in.” Rio supplied, voice low and thick with authority and charm. He wore a smirk, lips upturned at your surprised reaction. He always seemed amused by you. That fact only served to unsettle you further.

“What’re you doing here?” You managed to say between shaky breaths, fear making your own voice quiver.

“Just checking in, mama. Can’t I do that?” He challenged with his arms spread wide, daring you to say otherwise.

You didn’t.

You went to move around the large kitchen island but the shards of broken mug prevented you from getting far on bare feet. Rio took notice and strode towards you, all clean lines and hooded eyes. He had a swagger about him that radiated. It sent a clear message about the kind of man he was. Confident. Skilled. Smart. There was an ease in his movements, but a beast lay in wait inside, ready to strike when the need arose.

His piercing gaze took in your dress, uncaring of being discreet or polite. He appraised you from the tips of your painted toes to the top of your head. It was as unnerving as it was thrilling. He crowded your space. He always did. While the scent of him filled your nostrils. Something spicy, but pleasing. It sat in your nose, and you knew from previous experience that you’d smell it for hours after.

You swallowed, wanting to avoid his close proximity. You hastily bent down to gather what you could of the jagged pieces, moving around his sneaker-clad feet that stood before you. You tried to ignore his presence, tried to appear calm and composed. It was an uphill battle. The man always knew how to throw you off. He knew how to keep people on their toes. It was yet another facet of him that you both coveted and despised.

You hissed, feeling the edge of one of the shards dig into the tip of your finger. You stood and sucked the tip into your mouth, trying to clear the area of the blood that had started to surface. His eyes were on you, watching you with interest and a certain level of lust that you didn’t allow yourself to explore. You stiffened when he reached for your wrist and pulled your finger away from your lips. He inspected the cut, his flesh warm and soft against yours. It was a side of him that eclipsed the man you’d come to know over the last several months.

“It’s not bad. I’ll be fine.” You whispered, attempting to pull your hand free of his. It was futile.

“Band aid?”

“Uh...yeah. In that drawer. Next to the stove.” You pointed in the direction of the drawer, holding your breath as he retrieved the item. This time, you watched him. Watched as he unwrapped the bandage and tended to your finger with all the care of a parent with their child. He held the appendage steady as he got ready to wrap it, but he stopped himself. He locked eyes with you instead, making you shiver.

“I make you nervous.”

It was a statement. A very true statement. And yet you found yourself shaking your head; ironic because your voice felt too unsteady to use.

Your heart stopped when he placed a tender kiss to the cut. The air around you crackled with heat and tension. It was unlike any feeling you’d ever been subjected to before. It was danger mixed with primal fascination...attraction. And it called to you like a raft in a sea of treacherous waves.

He ignored your silent response and sealed the band aid over your finger, ensuring the ends were smooth against your skin. He didn’t let go of you.

“Don’t lie to me, okay? Trust is an important thing. And we’ve gotta have it if we wanna keep doing business together.”

His calm demeanor and gentle chastising made you a puddle of obedience. Your need to please wasn’t just born from fear. It was something you’d been unable to come to terms with until now. You saw it for what it truly was. You wanted to please him. In as many ways as he’d let you.

You nodded in response, agreeing to his statement.

“Let’s try it again then, yeah?” He started, eyes roaming your face. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”

“The constant threat of my life makes it difficult for me to be calm.” You said, choosing to still be untruthful.

You forced yourself not to fidget as his stare scorched your skin. His black eyes roamed across the open expanse of your collarbone and to the modest neckline of your wrap dress. He licked his lips as he focused on the measured breaths of your chest, your breasts rising with each pass.

“That’s not the only reason.” He retorted with a shake of his head. He leaned in close, noses almost touching as he spoke. “Don’t move.”

You said nothing as he bent down, continuing your failed task of picking up the broken bits of ceramic. You observed him dutifully gathering each piece, piling them into one large hand. His face looked pensive, as if he was trying to solve an equation in his head. You leaned against the island for support and bit your lip, unwilling to give into the lecherous thoughts that haunted you at night and managed to infiltrate your dreams.

“Nice dress.”

His compliment made you pause, looking down to meet that familiar smirk. He’d set what was left of the mug onto the counter, the floor relatively clear of large fragments. His fingers now played with the hem of said dress, the flowy material dancing in the air and away from your body.

“Thanks.”

Your voice was small. The apprehension so clear that you could both taste it. He found it funny. You found it humiliating.

He slowly straightened, taking the fabric with him as he gathered it to just above your knees.

“Color looks good on you.”

Again, the juvenile warmth of his praise sent you reeling further into anxiety’s waiting arms. Inwardly, you were responding to every lick of his lips and quirk of his eyebrow. Your thighs shifted restlessly against each other, waiting for that satiation that you hadn’t felt in forever. Outwardly though, you remained as skittish as a wild horse. You were as much on the edge of pleasure as you were on retreating.

“Thanks.” You said with a pleasant smile, wanting to conceal the yearning that bubbled just under the surface. You smoothed out the hunter-green fabric that rested against your abdomen, hoping to urge his hands away from you and the dress.

No such luck.

Instead, he ran his fingers up your skirt and along the outside of your thighs and hips, almost meeting the edge of your lace panties. Your traitorous body showed its hand, your nipples hardening in eagerness. Rio’s gaze predictably caught the action. And his face showed his approval.

“How long you been divorced?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion at his sudden curiosity. But the switch in topic had you alert again and somewhat clear of the fog he was so insistent on throwing you into.

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?” You questioned, stepping back from his body.

His hands fell away from you finally, but they didn’t stay idle for long. They skimmed over your hips, pressing your backside into the edge of the kitchen island.

“Answer me, mama.” He demanded, head craning down to meet your eyes. The intensity of his stare made you shift on your feet. He had an amazing poker face. A skill that left you envious.

“Two years.” You dutifully supplied, leaning backwards every inch that he moved in.

“It’s been that long then.” He commented with a nod, a finger tracing along the neckline of your dress, hovering just above your cleavage.

“That long for what?” You asked, taking note of the subtle ways in which his face changed. There was no trace of the teasing, light-hearted flirting that you’d become accustomed to seeing from him. He was serious. Almost as serious as the times he’d threatened your life. His touch was more insistent, telling you what he wanted rather than hinting. His mouth lowered to your ear, his nose brushing against your neck in a far too erotic manner. Your fingers itched to anchor yourself to him. You denied the request.

“Since someone stretched you out.”

A gasp caught in your throat, though you didn’t know if it was more from his words or his touch. He’d managed to slip a hand under your dress, tracing the crotch of your panties with a dexterous finger as he spoke.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You stammered, knuckles tightening against the edge of the counter you were currently gripping.

“I mean…” Rio started, lips brushing against the shell of your ear with each syllable. His finger barely teased your slit, but his voice more than compensated for the lack of physicality. “You haven’t had someone here,” He emphasized the word with a firm press of his finger against the soaked material that hid your clit from view. “In two years. Maybe more.”

You whimpered, biting your lip as he continued to manipulate your body. Your head screamed at you to stop, to pull away. But the sensation of his body pressed so firmly to yours was far too comforting to deny.

“You don’t know that.” You attempted, though the effort was obviously pointless. It was true. Since your separation and subsequent divorce from Paul, you’d barely been on a date, much less had sex. Your body was fiending for it...for him. And he knew it.

He scoffed, finding amusement in your words. He pressed his finger along the same dampened area, seeing your eyes roll into the back of your head. He licked his lips when your hand shot out to grasp at his wrist.

“Yeah, I do.” He affirmed with a nod, finger still teasing over your lace-covered slit. “He stepped out on you, didn’t he?” He continued, his eyes taking stock of the way you responded to his touch.

You had trouble focusing on the conversation he insisted on having while his hand was up your dress and practically in your underwear. You didn’t feel the need to supply an answer anyway. He already had all the information he needed.

“He didn’t deserve you.”

You were jolted back to reality by his words, straightening your spine and pushing his hand from between your legs.

“And what? You do?” You threw back, agitation seeping into your tone. You felt like he was patronizing you. He was always one step ahead. Always aware of the skeletons in your closet before you were.

“Never said that.” He said with a shake of his head, not stepping out of your space. His hands were off your body now, but the stains they’d left on you would remain there. They wouldn’t easily be erased. And you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted them to be.

“Why are you here?” You asked, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“Business.”

“A simple call or text works for that.”

“Wanted to come in person.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. He wore an expression of smugness, as if he knew something you didn’t, which was often the case.

“What do you want then?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” He retorted swiftly, lips pulled into a thin line.

The seriousness was back, his eyes nearly swallowing you as all humor became sucked from the room. The nerves in your stomach came back full force, the fear aiding them in their efforts. He was challenging you, apparently done with your lying.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to even begin. He was too intimidating. Just too much.

“I-I can’t.” You finished lamely, shaking your head and looking down at your feet.

He tilted your chin up, his mouth only centimeters from yours as he dared you to move.

“Just say the word.” He rasped against your lips, his free hand cradling your cheek.

You let yourself stare back, taking in his dark lashes and the angles of his face. He confused you on many levels, angered you beyond belief. He made your life a living hell. And yet, you wanted him more than anything. More than the money and the thrill of crime. And somehow he was privy to it all. And he wanted to give it to you.

So you were going to let him.

“Kiss me.” You breathed out, your hands finally coming to rest on his chest.

He needed no further encouragement. His mouth settled over yours in a tangle of lips and tongues. He tasted like mint, his lips much softer than they looked. The scratch of his facial hair only added to the moment as you pressed further into him, asking him to take more.

He did.

His hands were rough, but not unpleasant as they trailed along your body. They had the marks of healed scars. Not to mention the blood of those who chose to cross him. They were everywhere and all at once. Your breasts, your neck, your waist, your ass. He kneaded where he knew you yearned for more and tenderly stroked the areas in between. You struggled to keep up as his hips pushed into yours, his own yearning making its presence known.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You managed to say between heavy breaths, Rio’s mouth attaching to your neck and sucking near your throbbing pulse.

“Why not?” He mumbled into your skin, hands unwilling to slow down.

“Things will get complicated.”

He pulled himself away from the crook of your neck, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen pout.

“Yeah, they will.” He said with a chuckle, that devilish smirk staring back at you.

It was all a blur after that.

Limbs intertwined together as you worked on the buckle of his pants while he pushed your dress up and over your hips this time. He harshly pulled the lace away, the elastic snapping against your thighs as it got caught before making its way to the floor. Your mouths didn’t separate, not even when he lifted you onto the counter. He pulled one side of your dress away, exposing the matching bra you wore underneath. Your pebbled nipples called to him and he responded, massaging the flesh with expert precision. You moaned and writhed like a woman possessed. Like a woman that hadn’t been laid in two years.

“Feels good?”

The roughened gravel of his voice made your walls spasm, the hint of self-assuredness causing a wave of arousal to seep from within you. You could only nod, wordlessly pleading with him to continue on. His touch ventured south to your spread thighs. You widened them, allowing him access to the place you needed him the most. He didn’t disappoint.

His fingers were long and probing as they penetrated your sex, slipping easily in. You gasped at the fullness, the stretch around him making your eyes squeeze shut. He let your body guide him as he rubbed at your clit, his fingers curling against your walls.

“I’m...god...I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, only somewhat embarrassed by the suddenness of your climax.

He worked hard and faster. Your nails dug into his back, your mouth landing on his shoulder as you struggled to not cry out. You bit down when the euphoria of orgasm washed over you, trapping his hand within you. He could feel every tremor he brought forth as you shook in his arms. It felt like it lasted for hours, your body unwilling to let the feeling be a fleeting moment in time.

“You still with me?” He asked, lips pressed to your temple.

You nodded, hissing when he removed his fingers from the confines of your body. You watched, feeling as if you were in a daze. He shifted his pants and boxers down, revealing his length to your ravenous eyes. The hand that had been so deeply embedded in you now wrapped around himself. He was long and hard, as rigid as his hands. You felt like a moth to a flame, hand reaching out to feel if he was real. He was.

You swiped your finger over the tip of him and were overcome with wanton pride at feeling the moisture that sat there. His jaw clenched in a way that you’d only ever seen him do in anger. He didn’t allow you to continue. In an instant he was wedged between your thighs, his body already pushing into your waiting sex. Even with the climax from his fingers, he was a tight fit. You both expelled breaths, his a mumbled curse and yours a throaty moan. You shut your eyes as a new burst of pleasure radiated from your core and traveled up your spine. There was only a brief moment of intimacy as he sat unmoving within you, letting your body adjust to him.

It was short-lived.

“Fuck...” He cursed as he began to fuck you into the counter, hands holding your hips in place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lavished yours with kisses and bites, each thrust of his hips causing his teeth to graze your skin. The chill of the marble countertop beneath your bare ass cooled your overheated skin. You bit your lip so hard you could taste blood as he filled you over and over, each pass making your walls accept more of him. He was deep and hitting that gloriously elusive spot that sat within your womb.

He cupped your breasts while you scraped your nails down his back, hearing him growl in response. The sound made you yearn to hear more. So, you did something you’d always wanted to do...you licked the ink on his throat. You decorated his skin with tantalizing kisses, your tongue aiding your actions. He shivered against your lips, the reaction making your walls clench around him. He was, at least for the moment, a slave to your ministrations. And it was a high unlike any drug you’d ever encountered.

It was animalistic fucking at its finest. He hit every nerve, soothed every ache. The union of your bodies was enough to send you sailing off the proverbial cliff, but his touch kept you tethered to solid ground, longing for more. He rocked his hips mercilessly into you, making your back arch at an almost painful angle.

“Right there, huh?” He teased, feeling you squeeze around him in raw desire. “Yeah, that’s the spot.”

You whimpered and tensed when he savagely rubbed your swollen clit, forcing your legs to tighten around him. He laughed, the sound ominous in your ringing ears. You could only hold on as he delivered the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. You spread your thighs wider, trying to get him closer than humanly possible. You opened your neck up to him, letting him have access to your bare flesh. You wanted him all over you and leaving a scorching trail of hunger in his wake.

It was manic. It was frenzied. It was passionate. And it all combined into a seductive elixir that made fireworks burst from within.

“Shit...I’m cumming.” You warned, feeling him double his efforts. Every muscle went taut with blinding pleasure as that coil finally snapped. You felt weightless, and yet the firm body still driving into your depths made you feel sublimely solid. And whole. More whole than you’d felt in the entirety of your marriage.

It was on the tail-end of your climax that Rio found his. His hips stuttered as he grunted and groaned, releasing himself into you and painting your walls. His fingers dug into the flesh of your inner thighs while his face burrowed into your chest and neck. It was as uninhibited as you’d seen him. And you were addicted to the sight.

You both heaved with shallow breaths, the exertion of each of your climaxes literally taking the air from your lungs. The room smelled of sex and instant regret as you straightened in Rio’s arms. He separated from your body, eyeing you as he redressed. You shifted your dress back together to cover your bra, the mess between your thighs preventing you from closing them completely.

Before you could say anything, Rio reached up and cradled your cheek. He played with your bottom lip, his thumb once again finding the appendage. His eyes took in every part of you, as if he hadn’t fucked you senseless seconds before. He licked his lips in that dangerous way that let you know his thoughts were on more than just money.

“Business is good?” He asked, warm palm still pressed to your cheek.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Cool, cool.” He nonchalantly replied, hand leaving your face as he stepped back from your debauched body. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said with a nod, pushing your dress further down over your thighs, a lame effort to protect any modesty you might’ve still possessed. He smirked at the action.

“Might wanna clean up the mess.” He said with a cheeky upturn of his lips, hands gesturing to the remaining fragments of ceramic that still littered the floor but eyes locked solely to the spot between your legs. The place he knew he’d left a part of himself.

You bit your lip and nervously played with the hem of your dress, feeling his eyes bore into you. Despite still being fully dressed, you felt naked to him. Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. You hated it.

He retreated, facing you as he walked backwards towards the front door. You watched him from over your shoulder, still unsure of what to make of the whole situation.

“And lock your door from now on. All kinds of madmen running around these streets.” He quipped, eyes lighting up at his own joke.

He was gone as fast as he’d arrived, causing havoc and then leaving without a second thought. The door closed with a crisp click at his exit, the house now feeling bare without his foreboding presence.

You didn’t move from your spot. You remained on the counter, Rio still leaking from your walls and your dress still disheveled despite your best efforts. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one riddled with panic. His unexpected visit left you with more questions than answers, all of which were tinged with fear. What did this development mean for you? Did it actually mean anything? Or was he simply taking what was so obviously laid out in front of him?

Did it matter?

No. It didn’t.

Because although he may have indulged your craving, your appetite was far from being fulfilled.

#rio good girls #rio #good girls rio #good girls nbc #nbc good girls #rio x reader #rio x you #rio imagine #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic

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sekceesimps · 3 years

Text

Shimmering Through Darkness (a Zhongli x reader oneshot)

summary: Rex Lapis finally retires and allows for Zhongli to spend time with his darling. Basically just tooth rotting Zhongli retirement fluff with a lil spice! (tried to make reader GN)

a/n Schlongli is so sexy I can’t. This man is literally my entire reason for shifting. Hope all of you enjoy some fluffy Zhongli. Leave some feedback and drop a request!

Sincerely Coffee

Rex Lapis had been tired for so long. His responsibilities over the thousands of years in existence had drained him of strength and the will to continue his rule over the land of Liyue.

He had been wandering the lands and been practically stripped of all purpose in his life. At least, that was until he met you.

Your meeting had felt fated and arranged by powers far more powerful than him. Zhongli truly believed that the two of you were soulmates and quite honestly he was probably correct. He was ready to spend the rest of his entire life with you, however long that may be.

Now the two of you had met by chance on one of your work ventures. He had been off at Wuwang Hill for funeral arrangements, a task that he found needless, but was thrust on him by the lack of workers at the parlor. You had gone there to investigate a slew of ghostly sightings, a task which you were loath to do alone.

He had run straight into you while you were wandering around the houses looking for clues from a mysterious particle. Instantly, he had been captured by your stunning E/C eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and body alert, but still relaxed. You had apologized for bumping into him and all he could do was stupidly stare at you open mouthed as you bashfully rubbed your neck with your hand. Ever the gentleman, he aided you with your commission and accompanied you back to Liyue Harbor. Well, next thing you know he’s inviting you to dinner and a few months later you’re living together.

Your relationship blossomed much faster than either of you had expected. Zhongli was not going to complain though, every action of yours, as simple as it may be, seemed to spark something within him. Your very existence gave him reason to live and to plan a future that wasn’t a dead end one.

He had been with many lovers over his years of existence, but none of them made him flustered or dream of keeping them close at his side. Zhongli prided himself on his calm composure, but when you gently ran your fingers across his knuckles or through his long dark hair, he was a blushing and speechless mess. To think that he was once the most fear striking and rageful Archon as you wrapped your arms around his lithe form and rested your chin on his head.

You hadn’t really been shocked when he had told you that he was Rex Lapis. He was probably more surprised than you when all you did was shrug and leave kisses across his jaw. You truly are perfect for him, he thinks as you pull him to your side on the bed and shower him with love that he had not experienced in thousands of years.

One of his favorite things to do with you is grasp your hand, lacing your fingers with his, and take you to all his favorite locations in Liyue. Really, his dates are just adventures of their own. He finds so much joy from being able to watch your eyes sparkle as he tells you a tale of a battle or an event that happened at a certain ruin or cliffside. His heart never fails to race when you rest your head on his shoulder and let him hold you close to his side.

Living together was not something he wanted to ask of you, as you had yet to be married and his traditionalist ideals feared offending you. The concept of marriage was one of which he was beginning to entertain more and more. However, when you begin to stop accepting commissions in faraway regions, choosing to instead stay by his side more often, it leads to you not really being able to have a stable place to lodge.

He was quick to use the Northland Bank’s funds to purchase a beautiful home slightly north of the bustling harbor. You were a little annoyed that he hadn’t consulted you and you could have paid for it yourself, however the pride in his eyes of being able to provide for you (ahem Childe provided for you, but neither of you say anything) just filled you with acceptance over the new developments. Shortly after, you decide to invite him to stay with you, not really knowing if he had even had a place to sleep in the first place.

Zhongli preened under the attention you gave him at home. Almost every night, the two of you had accustomed yourselves to wrapping in eachothers arms and basking in the warm embrace of the other. These wonderful moments in your shared home gave him more meaning than he’d ever had before. His existence was now only to please and provide for you and your happiness.

Retirement was an idea, just a faraway dream, that he could never be able to accomplish. He had his duties in Liyue! The people needed him to stave away threats and preside over the land. Yet, Zhongli no longer wanted to have dominion over Liyue, instead, he wanted to finally rest at your side. As the people of Liyue began to grow more self-sufficient, he began to see it fit to depart.

He had let the idea simmer in his mind for years, but now his plans could possibly reach fruition. He wasn’t like the Mondstadt Archon, Barbatos. Freedom was not his forte, he was the Archon of contracts. The great Rex Lapis had sworn to protect these people in the place he called home. As his definition of home shifted from the vast and diverse lands and mountainscapes of Liyue towards you and the warmth and love that you provided, his decision became clear. These people could care for themselves for the time being, and he wasn’t going to be going too far.

When he broke the news to you, he had blushed at the way a smile broke across your face and you embraced him with fervor. He had planned for you two to live in your small home near the Guili Plains, but your begging to live somewhere with a few more people prompted him to decide to move to Qingce Village. After all, his home was wherever you were.

You were the one who had to do most of the working and wage earning as he had no mora. He felt a bit guilty when you would come home exhausted every few days and he was just brewing some tea for the two of you. To be fair, the tea he made was very good and he was trying to master how to cook certain dishes so he could please you.

Traditional husband and wife roles had shifted considerably as Zhongli was staying home and cooking and cleaning while he waited for you to come home from work. Your home itself was located in the outskirts of the village, allowing for a slightly longer travel, but privacy that Zhongli now desired. He was more and more relaxed and trusted you enough to mostly shed his troublesome human form.

His draconic features were more apparent as he relaxed by your side in the spacious home. His golden eyes had a more prominent glow and two sharp curved horns protruded from his head. His nails were longer and more sharp and some days, parts of his skin would be shiny with scales. He was still in a human form for your convenience, however it helped him rest when he showed parts of his real body. Perhaps one day he’d show you his true self, but he’d have to do it in a secluded area, he is supposed to be dead after all.

Zhongli in retirement was far more interested in children than he would have thought. While you might not have been technically married yet, something which he was eager to fix, he still wanted to start a family with you. After several long talks you decide to hold off for the moment, whether you want to have children or not, Zhongli is anxious to one day expand the home the two of you have created.

Truly, he is much more domestic and eager to help you in any way he can. Especially in the bedroom. As he is slightly more dragon like now, those features seep into your more intimate moments. He’s more keen on marking and claiming you than he was before. Probably because he views you as his and is loath to allow others near you. He’s definitely more soft than before and prefers to have you guide the way. His yearning for that domestic life has really give you more control. It’s also given him a renewed focus on your pleasure and on taking care of you afterwards.

Zhongli is glad that he found you. You’ve given him a sense of normalcy, a home, and love which he has never really felt before. You are his guiding light, his reason for life, and person he wants to protect above all else. As his soulmate, you’ve cut through the darkness of the past several hundred years and provided him with everything he never knew he needed.

a/n I’m currently writing Genshin NSFW HCs and I elaborate more about Zhongli there, so keep your eyes peeled! Hope you enjoyed this piece though.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #fluff #oneshot #zhongli x reader #rex lapis #domestic fluff #x reader #morax #morax x reader #kinda nswf

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bleachhaven · 3 years

Note

Congrats on 1500 followers😊😊😊 can I request NSFW headcanons/scenario of Shunsui coming home late and waking up his wife for sex💋 Thanks!!!

Yes please goddamn it! I love these request for everyone’s favorite Bleach husband!

I have many feels about this man and I intended to write headcanons but this turned into a scenario instead. So this turned out to be almost 1900 words. I clearly got carried away, and it is evident that I have thought about this scenario way too much. I won’t apologize for it. Shunsui seduced me by simply existing!

Kyouraku Shunsui comes home late to wake up his wife for some lovin’ (smut)

One would think that after 10 years of being the new Soutaicho, Shunsui would be able to come home at a decent time. He does have two, not just one, fuktaichos after all. But that’s not the case most of the time. The Soutaicho’s work is never really over and definitely never on a time that was convenient for him or the people in his life.

With both him and his wife being in the Gotei 13, their busy schedules almost always ensures that they keep missing each other even if they do indeed live in the same house.

Sure they’d carve out time to be with each other, plan elaborate date nights overlooking sunsets with extravagant picnics...but still his job did take its toll. Some nights they’d both be home at a relatively decent time but they would be far too exhausted to do anything other than take a quick shower and go to sleep.

Lately, it’s been busier than most. The new Taicho of the 13th Division was being finally appointed. Kuchiki Rukia was an exemplary candidate, and Shunsui had every faith that she would do right by the division that was once held by his beloved best friend, but the paperwork for the new appointment and subsequent transition was, to put it mildly, a pain in the ass.

Today had been hectic. His last responsibility had been to visit the 13th Division’s barracks and make sure all the finer details were finalized with Rukia. Sure, someone else could have done it and he would have passed it on to the nearest unsuspecting subordinate had it been any other division. But it wasn’t. It was the 13th and the 13th was always Juu’s. Shunsui had to do it himself. It was the right thing to do.

However, that hadn’t really gone well at all.

The official business was, of course, successfully concluded. Nanao-chan had taken care of everything, and Rukia was not only ready but eager to take on her responsibilities starting tomorrow, after the official announcement at the Taichos’ meeting.

Except, walking past the Ugendo, and being reminded that Jushiro wasn’t there...it had put him in quite the dark mood. This announcement meant an ending he really was not yet ready to face. The 13th would no longer be Juu’s. Just another reminder that his best friend was gone and never coming back. It was...just painful in a purely illogical and gut wrenching way.

He’d wandered the seireitei streets, hoping to lose the cloud over his mind so he didn’t take it back home to his unsuspecting wife, but it hadn’t helped much.

When he finally got home, she was fast asleep. Maybe that was for the best. If she had been awake, she would have definitely wanted to talk it out with him. She could sense his mood in an uncanny way. But Shunsui wasn’t in a mind to talk. Not tonight.

They weren’t the kind of couple to wear fancy nightclothes to bed. In fact, they both chose not to wear anything at all. Shunsui’s body anyway ran quite warm and clothes would feel suffocating, so he slept fully nude. When he first met his wife, she loved her cute pyjamas and sexy négligée. Of course he couldn’t resist her in them. But after a while, he succeeded in convincing her the benefits of sleeping nude. Now, he knew, she wore nothing but panties under the covers.

He quickly took a shower to wash away the day’s grime and dried himself before dropping the towel on the floor. His wife would have his head for him leaving it there but...he had a lot on his mind tonight.

He slowly walked up to the bed and stood there for a moment looking down at her. She looked so peaceful as she slept. No concerns furrowed her brows, and her lashes rested upon her smooth cheeks. She was sleeping on her side, facing the side on which Shunsui slept, her hand reaching out as if she meant to hold him. As if she yearned for him in his absence.

The sheets were bunched up, barely covering her. One shapely calf teased him, inviting to be touched. He had no intentions of resisting he temptation. He slowly ran his hand up her calf, feeling the smoothness and the firmness of her leg all the way up to her knee. He kept moving upward, lifting the sheet as he went, to rest his hand on her thigh.

She stirred a bit, and twisted away to lie flat upon her back. He quickly retracted his hand. He didn’t want to wake her. Not yet anyway.

When she moved, the sheet moved with her, unwrapping her like she was his favorite candy ready to be devoured. Her curves in all their glory were bared to his eye.

Her nipples were already pebbling, teased by the cold air in the room. He aided the task by moving his index finger up over her abdomen, his touch so slow and feather light. He flicked a nipple and watched it stand upright as if begging for his mouth.

His mind made up, he climbed up on the bed. He took his time, unrestrained by anything demanding upon him. Tonight, even his wife couldn’t distract him by trying to pleasure him. Instead, he got to explore her body as he wished to do so.

He moved over her delicate neck, the back of his hand caressing the soft skin there. Usually, whenever they made love, he worshipped her body as if it’s the only religion he’d ever known. But tonight, his mood was different. Tonight, he wanted to devour her, not delicately or lovingly, but with a passion that would consume them like an inferno. It was already burning him inside, this desperate need to take her, and take her hard. Tonight he wanted to sacrifice them both at the altar of his darkest desires.

Almost as if she could sense his thoughts, her eyes opened to look up at him, a bit confused and still half asleep. “Shunsui?”

“Shh...” he hushed her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep. There it is again...that uncanny ability to read him like an open book.

He stared into her eyes, and she easily read his intentions. “I don’t want to talk about it, love,” he told her. “I just...want you.”

She didn’t say anything more. She simply held out her arms to pull him into her embrace. He fell into her, perhaps even crushing her, his body settling right between her spread thighs.

Their kiss was almost fervent with need. At least that’s what it felt like for him. No gentle romancing tonight. No soft seductive kisses or delicate nibbles. His mouth devoured hers, teeth biting into her full bottom lip. The wiry hair on his chest rubbed tantalizingly against her breasts. They both marveled at the contrast -soft curves against hard planes, smooth skin against the roughness.

One hand wound up in her hair at the back of her head, holding her still as he took what he needed from her. The other hand moved between their bodies to reach down and find that his earlier ministrations as she slept had her wet and ready for him.

“I don’t think I can wait, petal,” he whispered, scraping his teeth across her jaw. His hardness pressed against her soft thigh told her as much anyway.

She reached up and sunk her hands into his hair, undoing the ties. The pull on his scalp was painful but strangely arousing. Her gaze bore into his, and it drove him insane to see the same intense desire reflected back at him. “I’m not asking you to wait, Shunsui. Fuck me. Now.”

With well practiced rhythm, he buried himself in one thrust. Face to face, pressed up close like this, he could see her eyes close shut, and her teeth bite that lip as he stretched her. A bit of pain mixed with pleasure. It amazed him how even after all this time, that first slide into her wet heat could still feel like the first time he was ever inside of her. It had him ready to burst in no time already, and he hadn’t even moved yet.

“Love, I don’t think I can go slow tonight,” he said, apologetic that he might not be able to make it good for her like he was wont to do.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, taking him even deeper if possible. “I didn’t ask you to, did I? Just fuck me already, Shun,” she said, biting his ear playfully. His wife was a sassy little thing that drove him crazy sometimes.

With one hand resting by the side of her head for leverage, he held on to her hip with the other as he began to move. Considering how much bigger he was compared to her, he had to hunch a bit, but this was his absolute favorite position. He felt close to her in every possible way and he got to see just how she looked when she came apart for him.

As he moved over her, thrusting deep, her moans filled their room, like music to his ears. “Yes...god, yes. Just like that...” His wife loved to let him know just how well he was doing at pleasing her.

His thrusts became faster and harder. He was so close. So close that he was afraid he might cum before her, which he had never done in their entire marriage. But she was right there with him, taking his desires into her lithe little body as if she was made for him. The harder he went, the more she took it, finally until they both burst into pieces...his tension easing away as the intensity of the orgasm eased in.

They were both gasping by the end of it, trying to catch their breath. It has been a long time since they went at each other like this - intense and fast. A definite contrast to their slow, sensual lovemaking.

He realized his hand was still holding tight to her hip. He let go and reached up to cup her face. “Did I hurt you?”

“Mmmm...I don’t think so,” she moaned, stretching a bit, the movement hardening him all over again. Her eyes widened in surprise at his non-existent refraction period. “Again? Really?”

He grinned lecherously down at her. “I can’t help it when I have such a sexy little wife, now can I?” he asked teasingly. Playfulness was always a good distraction, and he wanted her distracted enough that she wouldn’t question him about the reason why he had woken her up in the first place.

By the time they were finally done with round two, the exhaustion of the day caught up with Shunsui, and he was out like a light, cradling his wife. The last thing he thought was how lucky he was that he had someone who truly understood him and what he needed.

She gazed down at his sleeping form with a sad smile. She knew her husband was troubled, and it was clearly evident that he was not willing to talk about it. After all, you weren’t with someone for years and years without learning to read everything they did and didn’t say. And with Shunsui, it was always the things he didn’t say or hid behind a playful seductive remark that revealed more.

She wouldn’t press him. Not until he was ready to tell her, which she knew with experience would happen sooner than later. So she pressed a soft kiss to his stubbly cheek, and settled down next to him. His arms unconsciously wrapped around her, cradling her in his body heat. It was always easier to fall asleep when he was next to her, so that’s just what she did.

Written for the

✨ 1500 Followers Celebration ✨

…and requests for this are officially now closed.

Thank you to everyone who sent in their requests! I had a blast writing them ALL. This blog is officially at 1600!!

We shall have another celebration at the 2000 milestone :)

—

Normal Ask Box is open for requests so send in your Bleach fantasies today!

Or check out more of my work through the Masterlist here!

#kyouraku shunsui #shunsui kyouraku #shunsui x reader #smut #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach #1500 followers celebration

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staygolddindjarin · 3 years

Text

Grief

Chapter Three: Flight Intelligence

Din Djarin x reader x Cassian Andor??

Series Summary: Raised on Mandalore, born into a bloodline of warriors, no one ever expected for the daughter of a Clan leader to go rogue. Leaving the life of security and making the journey to fight in the war against the empire meant many things... giving up the way of the Mandalore, and giving up a solid future. A future that involves an arranged marriage to a foundling from another clan.

Chapter Warnings: reader is underage still (but no spicy bc we don't do that here) some angst and yearning ig??

Words: 3.4k

A/n: thank you guys once again for reading and giving all those notes to the previous chapters!! Also who else is just literally dyijg for mando content bc i miss my boys so much and i want them back

Part 3/?

My body jumped in its place, quickly waking me from my sleep. I was startled by the loud sound of the banging coming from the outside of my bunk.

I shook my head, trying to get the tiredness out before swinging my legs over the side and hopping down from the high bunk bed.

My roommate was still sleeping soundly, which shocked me honestly. And I thought I was a heavy sleeper.

Perhaps I would have to learn to sleep through loud obnoxious noises in the future if I ever wanted to get some rest around here.

I pulled my boots back onto my feet and wrapped my vest around me. I was used to normally hot temperatures, and though this planet wasn't necessarily cold, it gave me a bit of a chill.

I seemed to be making quite a bit of noise but when I turned back to my bunkmate I saw her still sound asleep.

I was curious, how could someone just ignore everything around them and be at such a peaceful rest. Especially this place. She's apart of the rebellion, and she doesn't have a care in the world. I wish I could be like that.

I went up and waved my hands in front of her face a few times, snapping my fingers when I received no response. It made me chuckle to see she had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

I shook my head head, turning around to leave by opening the door with the panel on the wall.

"Leaving so soon?" I heard her scratchy voice erupt from behind me, and flipped back around to watch her get up from her bunk as well.

"Were you awake all that time?" I laughed, thinking I had been sneaky a few moments earlier.

"Maybe."

I rolled my eyes as I turned to leave but then a thought caught my mind and I tilted my head back in her direction.

"Hey, I never caught your name?"

She didn't respond at first, looking up at me from her task, which I didn't really identify what it was she was doing.

"Might be because I never gave it to you," She snipped back, and I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. She was rather brutally honest as I've seen so far, but she also seemed to have a sense of humor in her.

I didn't want to push her any further, I didn't want to get on her bad side. As confident of a fighter as I was, she looked like she could snap me in half if she tried. She must have been with the resistance quite long time.

I squinted at her before trying to leave one final time, but of course, she stopped me just as my foot crossed the threshold.

"Cara," She spoke up, and I smiled, not looking back to her as I kept going forward into the hallway. She knew I heard her.

I didn't know where orientation was being held exactly, and I didn't know where to go to find out. There were some stationary droids around where I had been wandering, and I asked them, but every time, they only told me a destination and not how to get there. I seemed to be going in circles in this base, turning around endless corners to try and reach my destination. I was about to give up hope and just head back to my bunk to see if Cara could help me, but when I turned around I collided with someone's chest.

"I figured I'd bump into you here," That thickly accented voice filled my ears once again and I couldn't help but squish my face up in embarrassment.

"At least I didn't fall down this time..."

"I was looking for you. Everyone is in the announcement hall, and we can't start orientation without all the new comers," He explained.

I was still rather close in proximity to him, so I stepped back, my eyes landing on my feet as I soon said my next words.

"I got lost... this place is like a maze," I explained in return, looking around the room we were in and trying to figure out where I was supposed to go even now. Really and truthfully I was simply trying to avoid eye contact with him.

"You think this is bad... you'll hate the base on Yavin 4," He mumbled before shaking his head and turning himself around to lead you both in a different direction.

"Is that where we're moving next?" I asked casually, but he seemed suprised as he nudged his head in my direction as we walked.

"You pick up information fast. How'd you know we were planning to change bases?" He smirked, but I didn't want to rat out my roomate, incase it could get her in any kind of trouble. I shrugged and kept walking alongside Cassian, trying to to look over at him.

I wasn't sure how I really felt about him. He was a good five years older than me at least. Maybe more. He looked young, but not too young, but then again so did I, and I was the youngest of everyone here it seemed.

We rounded a few hallways before coming to a large open room, where I quickly spotted my friends sitting scattered amongst several new faces.

I took the empty seat next to Merc, giving him a smile as we watched Cassian Andor at the front with two commanders, begining to explain the presentation to all the new recruits who had only earlier that day joined the rebels and their cause against the empire.

The whole time, I noticed that Cassian would give me glances. I tried to play it off like it was nothing, because he could have just been doing that for everyone in the room, but I wasn't the only one to notice those looks.

"I think someone might have an admirer," Merc nudged me, his voice was teasing though he didn't even look at me and his face was kept a serious one.

"Shut up, he doesn't even know me," I shot out quickly, following suit of him and not turning my head towards him but keeping it to the front where the demonstration of blaster safety was being shown. I didn't need to pay much attention to any of these things, because I had been firing blasters since childhood. Weapons are part of my religion.

"The fact that you knew who I was talking about says otherwise," He muttered, his facial expression gave off that of great interest in what was being taught to the rest of the group, now having moved on from blaster safety.

"Okay fine.... but why is he looking at me like that? I'm just a kid."

"I've seen a few of people look at you like that. It's not necessarily new."

I was about to snap my head in his direction and make him do the same so I could look him in the eye when I asked him, but I held myself together with self control, keeping my eyes on the commander who was listing ranks and the people that occupied them.

"Who?"

"I'm not totally sure about it yet, but Shyloh might be interested. Don't tell him I said anything, just incase I'm wrong..." he said, which if i was being honest I wasn't totally surprsied by.

"Who else? You said a few," I added on, to which he took a beat or two before responding.

"Din Djarin. Can't even see his face, but you know my super power, I can just tell."

Hearing his name brought a hitch in my throat. Man, it had only been a few days, but I swore I'd not missed anyone from our home planet as much as I missed him. It was frightening actually, to realize that the minimal amounts of time we'd spent together in the recent days before my flee, that I'd grown so fond of him. Fond enough to miss him at the mere mention of his name.

"We were betrothed by my father.... when I turned eighteen I was to be married to him," I let out, finally looking down at my hands for a moment, needing to take my eyes away from what I was supposed to be watching right now.

"I know. The whole tribe knew about it. Your mother was ecstatic when she found out Djarin had approached your father. Everyone thought that with his status that he would try and bargain into a more well known clan," He said, and I froze in my spot. My eyebrows furrowed and I couldn't help but feel a bit of shock.

"He approached my father? I thought that my father came to him with an offer of my dowry," I mumbled, letting my sight once again travel to the front of the room, only to be met with Cassian Andor's eyes and a smirk.

"You didn't know? When it was announced that you were to be arranged, Djarin came to the clan and asked for your hand directly," He gave me all this new information that I had not ever received before, and now that I had it, I wasn't sure what to do with it. I might have not even come here in the first place had I known this.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?" I whispered more to myself than to Merc in this moment. I was thinking about the answer in my head of what could possibly have kept me from knowing this.

"They didn't want to freak you out. No one from another clan has come so directly like that before," Merc stated what I already knew, and I wasn't sure if I should dwell on this fact too long. Truly ot would plague my mind later in the night, but now was not the time to strain my thoughts.

I decided it was best that my attention be focused on this orientation. The rebellion was my new life now, and I needed to give it my all. I wasn't on Mandalore anymore, so my thoughts shouldn't be with the people or the things that reside there still. That's my past. This is my future.

"We will be choosing your branch within the next week. We will be assessing you to the best of our ability to see where your strong suits are." The commander announced loudly, reeling me back into reality and alowing me to be focused once more.

"For those of you that have flying capabilities, I've arranged for time in our flight simulator to take place after we finish orientation," Cassian once more looked at me, and this time I smiled back at him, showing that I noticed.

"Very well then, Andor," The commander nodded to him before continuing. "Pilots, Shock Troopers, Weapon Enforcements, Drop Squads, Mechanics, and Battle Station Operations. We will filter you into the best place we see fit for you to use your talents, and strengths. Your rank will depend on your skill level, and that will be decided by the commander who assesses you," He went on. I understood the reason they had to be so thorough, but with barely having any sleep in the last fourty eight hours, it was almost guaranteed that I would start nodding off during the boring and repetitive parts of the orientation.

It went on for nearly another hour, and honestly I don't remember most of it. I didn't think it was truly that important if I forgot it so easily.

After we were all dismissed, a few people walked to the front of the room and lined up to speak with Cassian, but since I was being forgetful of why, I completely bypassed the line and tried to leave the room with everyone else.

"Maldrix."

I turned my head at my clan name being called, and Cassian stood right there, trying to get my attention before I left the room.

"Aren't you coming to the flight simulator?" He raised an eyebrow, as if I had forgotten, which I did. I didn't really think I needed to if I was being honest, I wasn't as good a pilot anyways.

"I'm sure someone far better can take my place," I furrowed my brow and nodded to the rest of the men that were in line to volunteer their flying services.

"We won't know who's better till we see you fly, yeah?" He smirked, making me feel like I had no choice in the matter. This guy really had a way of manipulating me simply with the way he said his words. Not even the words themselves, but the way they came from him exactly. It was familiar in a way I couldn't pin point.

"I'm just a kid, how good could I possibly be?" I suggested, but he shook his head and leaned towards me more.

"One way to find out."

Stepping into the simulator, I heard the sound of the prior pilot yacking up his guts in the corner. He was say, about ten years or more older than me, and supposedly ten times more experienced. I was the last to take the simulator, being that I had stalled until every othher pilot had gone.

I reached my hand up to close the hatch and looked out at the people staring back at me, watching me to see how my performance held up. I didn't think I would even make it five seconds without being gunned down.

There were a few rebel spectators on the sidelines, including some of my friends, but also a ranking General. General Organa and his right hand men were staring me down, waiting for the last pilot to make a round in the simulator.

I figured that a general should probably have have better things to do than sit in this cold warehouse and watch pilots fail. Maybe this was important to them, but so far, they had been enormously let down, and I would probably only do the same.

Cassian Andor was also watching me, his arms were crossed over his chest and he looked believing, just judging from his facial features.

"This should be interesting..." I mumbled half under my breath, closing the hatch over top of me, and switching on the simulator. Right away I noticed something wrong. The holographics around me were realistic, however, with one small movement of the stick shift, it would change speed. That's not right.

I hadn't ever flown an x-wing fighter, or even a simulator for that matter, but I know what basic controlls are and this simulator lacked a lot of them. I didn't wanna seem like a know it all or anything, but maybe this was just another good way to stall.

I flipped off the switch and lifted up the hatch, all the spectators looking somewhat shocked to see me quit so early, but not the commanders, and not the general. Cassian had a smirk on his face, and it soon spread into a smile. They all knew exactly why I was stopping so soon.

"I hate to be the kid who acts like she knows everything, but there are a lot of controls missing, and the stick shift is off balance," I added that last part just to be sure I had made my point.

"Told you," Cassian murmered to the general beside him.

"Very well, Andor if you would take her to the real simulator now, we must be boarding our ship to Alderaan," The general replied, nodding to me with a smile before leaving the room with the commanders.

"Real simulator?" I asked, hanging half way over the side of the confined cockpit. I wasn't short by any means, but the hatch you had to climb into wasn't either.

"You didn't think we tested every recruit for real, did you?" Andor raised his eyebrow, coming over to help me off the large platform. His hands lingered at my waist just a bit before letting go.

"Well I didn't exactly think you would waste the time, you all seem like you have better things to do" I replied, and he shook his head.

"This rebellion, as much as it needs pilots, will only take pilots that know what they are doing. Since you're the only one in this batch that really knows her way around a cockpit, you're the only one who's gonna be flying," He patted me on the shoulder before tilting his head in the direction of another hallway. I followed behind him as he made his way to another door.

"The only one? What about that other guy that went before me? He even has experience in the field," I suggested, but again I saw him shake his head.

"Oh, you mean the one who's lunch we had to clean off the hangar floor?" He joked mockingly before putting a code into the padlock by the door and letting it slide open. "If he was such an experienced pilot, he would have known not to try and fly the craft without the basic controlls at hand."

"Sure, but maybe he just never saw an x-wing fighter before," I didn't know why I was trying to vouch for the guy, maybe I just wanted him to take my place.

"Have you ever seen an x-wing fighter before?" He questioned, and to avoid inevitably being wrong all together, I chose not to answer that question. I didn't like being challenged when there wasn't an easy way out for me.

"Exactly," He seemed to fill in the gap anyways, and I could have sworn, something about him in this exact moment reminded me of someone.

"Alright. Since you're the only one here, I'll make this fast... usually I have to explain the protocalls for use of the simulator... but let's just say I did and get you started," He seemed to be as interested in this as much as he was irritated. Like he didn't want to be here but somehow I made it worth while.

"You wanna give me a leg up?" I joked, seeing as how the platform was just as high as the other one, except this time I had nowhere to step on the side.

He smirked again, and helped me up onto the platform bedside the machine before I was able to climb in.

"You only have time to go about two rounds before curfew," He said, making me scrunch up my nose a bit frim his words.

"Curfew? The great rebellion has a curfew?" I was probably joking around too much, but then again I usually did. The times when I was completely serious were rare, and when they happened something was usually wrong... or I was tired and hungry.

"At midnight they lock the doors to all the bunks. It's a safety measure just incase of an attack on the base."

Well I guess I better shut up then. My humor usually ends up making me look plain stupid sometimes, and even for maker's sake, I just can't seem to stop myself.

"What time is it now?" I asked, reaching up for the hatch.

"Fifteen till," He responded, swiping up on his wrist holo-projector to show the time. It was strange here. On my planet there were nineteen hours in a full day cycle. Less time to rest, and more time to dwell in the outdoors. More time to train for when I took the creed. But I didn't. Fifteen minutes till my birthday, a day that was supposed to hold incredibly strong meaning.

I closed the hatch of the simulator and began running the course.

"You scored high. I'm impressed," Cassian said, helping me off the platform, his hands again lingering on my waist for just a moment. His hands were gentle but I could still feel the placing of them after he took them away.

"I mean, I figured," I said sarcastically, honestly surprised I even scored at all. Truly this was a shock to me, that a speeder racer somehow was able to become a pilot for the great rebellion.

"I can go over the results with you tomorrow, but I think we better return you to your bunk," He swiped the panel on his wrist showing that there were only two minutes remaining.

"I might as well get comfy here, there's no way I'm gonna run to the other side of this base at this hour with the lack of sleep that I've had the past few days," I ranted, wrapping my arms around myself as it was a bit chill in here. Must be the draftiness of the unsealed windows.

"Well if you're not too sick of me yet, I have a place we can go until the doors open up," He offered, and quite frankly, I didn't even need to entertain his suggestion before nodding.

"When exactly do the doors open?" My only question danced out of my mouth and into the ears of the man before me who shrugged as he answered.

"Five sharp."

Yikes.

Tags (open):

@abysshaven

#din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin fic #din djarin imagine #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #mando x reader #cassian andor #cassian andor x reader #star wars imagine #grief #rough day

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

Halo

Summary: y/n feels guilty for missing harry

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, mentions of vomiting and nausea, mentions of implied smut

Word Count: 7648 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : don’t cheat and don’t do drugs, kids.

inspired by one of my anons. some parts are real and some parts aren’t :)

Tarnish (1) . Halo (2) . Reign (3) .

Reign Taglist

___

When the relationship ended, Y/N imagined being bed-ridden. A lack of motivation to do anything casual such as standing. Watching the television seemed to be a task that required all of her energy and full-attention to be able to understand the subtitles on the screen. Her friends would knock continuously on her door to be met with no response because she was asleep or Y/N couldn’t be bothered with pitiful conversation asking her if she was okay. She would be too tempted to ask how Harry was doing when she could easily pull out her phone and search his name in a few quick taps. These used to be easy; as easy as breathing and loving Harry was easier than loving herself.

How was he doing? Y/N hoped that Harry was regretting his actions. She was yearning for the vibration of her phone to restart her heart like an AED stuck to her chest, sending her pulses to remember that they were not what they used to be. Or maybe the snippy ringtone Y/N had set specifically for him and only him would ring through the air as she wallowed in a burrito blanket. Frankly too emotionally worn out to even move an inch as she watched her phone face down on the bedside table of her new apartment.

Life doesn’t wait until Y/N is capable of being back on her feet before thundering down with the foundations of living. Five days into the breakup did she realize that the money she had saved up would be spent faster than she can replace it if she stayed any longer at the hotel near the heart of downtown. It was a spur of the moment decision to ‘treat herself’; she thought she deserved it after being called names and thrown aside like a used toy. And on the fifth day, she was on the lookout for places to live in as she adjusted to her new life without Harry.

It wasn’t like Y/N was completely dependent on him. She had a well-paying job; just not as good as his. And she could afford a nice apartment, just not as nice as his mansion. Nor did it have the same toasty feeling that enveloped her when she walked through the doors. Y/N told herself that she would give it a few months; that maybe it was just the change in setting that misplaced every bone in her body because everything she did felt off. Deep down, Y/N knew that things weren’t the same without him. She could either live a life reminiscing how she--they--used to do things or she could change and adapt to this ball thrown at her.

The decision was in her hands, yet she hesitated with every gambling thought crossing her mind. On one hand, she was used to a routine. It was a routine that never got boring to her, solely because Harry found a way to make things interesting; refreshing. On the other, Y/N would be in a never-ending comparison of how much she missed him or pat her shoulders because she was able to compromise the old parts of her that existed when Harry was around and to integrate it with a new version that was wary of anybody getting close to her.

The challenge was not easy when the media got hold of the news. It seemed as if everywhere Y/N went---mixed reactions and judgement attacked her with doe eyes offering the best of luck or disgusted snickers telling that she deserved it and that they--Camille and Harry--were perfect for each other. But when Y/N quite literally was carrying a piece of him and her inside her stomach did she step up to what she had to become to raise her baby.

It seemed like yesterday when Y/N stared at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom of Harry’s home, pinching at a subtle layer of fat that she was sure wasn’t there a few days ago. Bloated cheeks that added a fullness to her face were substituted as the result of a bright smile plastered on her face because she Harry had pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before she left for work that day. The sudden aversion to fragrant foods she absolutely adored flew right over her head and excused as a bad batch.

And the most painful memory was the day Harry and Y/N’s relationship ended. The beginning of something new, something beautiful was right under their noses. Y/N wondered what could have happened if she didn’t find the letter. When the symptoms of pregnancy became more obvious each day; would Harry notice the change in her physique? The crinkle of her nose when met with a sandwich containing pickles that she used to love?

Y/N couldn’t help but envision holding the stick with a tiny ‘+’ pixelated by dark colours. Sitting on the closed toilet seat as she contemplated delivering the news to him in the early hours of the morning after she was awoken by a flush of morning sickness. Y/N daydreamed about watching his sleeping face smooth out of any lines as he dreamed peacefully and wondered if this was still a part of what he wanted with her. Maybe she would jostle him gently, rousing him with a poke as she kneeled on his side of the bed, flailing the pregnancy test between her fingers until he blinked the sleep out of his waterline. Harry would present her a doozy smile before realizing what she held--to which he would sit up faster than he had ever done, gazing at her with a pleading stare. For Y/N to confirm that yes, she was pregnant. Yes, they were going to have a baby and yes, Harry was going to be a father. A little family in the works.

But that daydream was reeled in like a fishing hook in grave waters as reality grounded her. She was apparently two months into her pregnancy when Y/N had mistaken the sickness as an inevitable reaction to finding out his infidelity. Hearing him say the term of endearment as if he had not used it with another person made Y/N want to grab him by the shoulders to hold a steady contact, jostling him until answers spilled out of his mouth. Answers that Y/N deemed justifiable but was there ever a good excuse for cheating? She wanted to strip him out of the apologies filling his mouth and get straight to the question of why he had done it. But even then, Y/N knew that there was no way she was going to be satisfied with his answers. It was just a matter of her accepting that the idea of ‘what could have been’ would live inside her head because she was the only one that knew about the life inside of her.

Harry had not made an effort to speak to her besides arranging the dates to pick up her things. She had to wear large clothes to hide her growing belly because Y/N wasn’t sure if she even had the right to tell him something so personal anymore. It fit well with the narrative that she was a depressed homebody that craved the touch of his fingertips on her skin, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the weight of his arms around her. Albeit that he was the father, Harry had obviously moved on way before they ended; a little over a year ago now to be precise.

Y/N was almost one-hundred percent sure that Harry had blocked her number. Scratch that, she was certain if the way her messages failed to send were anything to go by. She could handle seeing the handle of ‘read’ on the bottom of a message because at least she’d know that Harry did read it and that he was aware. But watching the encircled, crimson exclamation point appear was just another reminder that he planned to erase four years from his life to start anew.

____

So what if at four months, Y/N was attending another doctor’s appointment by herself, trying to amount to as little attention as possible? Well, today was the day that she was going to find out the baby’s gender. Her bump was definitely noticeable now and extremely uncomfortable especially sitting on a plastic, grey chair in the waiting room. The device in her hand felt like stone perceiving the icon of blaring red that indicated yet another failed message to the contact previously named ‘My Love’, now to just ‘Harry’.

Y/N: I’m finding out the gender of our baby today

Y/N: I’m hoping for a girl but either way, I just want the baby to be healthy.

“Y/N? Dr. O’Sullivan is ready to see you,” The nurse clad in scrubs walked out with a clipboard gripped in her hands.

Y/N stood up, pausing to retrieve her items. She took a breath before entering the room, catching sight of the doctor in his stereotypical white coat focused on the computer screen that showed her information.

“You know what to do. Good luck today,” The nurse mused, handing her a folded hospital gown to change into as she pointed towards the direction of the room with a little nook to change privately. After struggling a bit with pulling off her top, Y/N tied the strings of the hospital gown.

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He asked, standing up to gather the items he would need. Y/N made herself comfortable on the small bed, the white paper crinkling as her weight shifted.

She sighed deeply, “I’m alright. Really excited, actually,” A grin appeared on her face with just how close she was to find out the gender of the baby, “How about you?”

“Good as always,”

Connor O’Sullivan was the name of the doctor. They met when Y/N was in search of the top-tier family doctor’s around the city and instantly had a connection. He had a trustworthy aura that Y/N deemed acceptable to guide her to a healthy pregnancy. A friendship had definitely blossomed around the doctor-patient boundary but they stayed within their limits. Inside jokes existed but it had never crossed the line. And sure, touches to the shoulder happened once in a while but nothing had escalated further.

Y/N’s baby bump was exposed to the cool room. She shivered when a gloved hand applied the gel on her taut skin. Stretch marks were littering the sides of her tummy. It was itchy and uncomfortable. However, it was tolerable especially after applying a combination of creams and oil to soothe the ache. It was also another reminder that she really was about to become a mother.

“Cold?” Connor teased with an easy smile. Y/N rolled her eyes upwards in response, “You’re the doctor here,”

He chuckled, directing her attention to the small screen beside them. The static fizz of black and white slowly morphing to a more discernible image as he attached the device to her skin, finding the perfect angle to produce a clear picture. The first time Y/N saw her little baby; it was the size of a lemon. The next couple of visits showed progression in their growth; tiny baby feet, stubby legs, and sprouting fingers could be seen on the ultrasound.

They looked more and more like a proper baby now--like the ones one would see in the clinics and Y/N really couldn’t believe that she was about to find out their gender. Y/N couldn’t tell just by inspecting the picture because of her lack of expertise.

“You’re having a. . .” Connor began, edging his voice at the last word. He wiggled his brows as Y/N’s eyes widened.

She balled her fists, “Oh, hell. Just spit it out, C,”

“A girl. You’re having a little girl,” He peered up at the patient, watching tears fill the brim of her waterline as she gasped, palming her slightly open mouth.

“A-a girl?” Y/N craned her head to look at the square image, blurrier because of the tears but beautiful nonetheless. “I can’t believe I’m having a girl,”

The doctor wiped the gel off of her tummy with a cloth, switching off the machine as he waited for another reaction out of her. Y/N tossed her legs to the side, putting on her slip-on vans to fully-comprehend the news. “I’m having a baby girl,”

Connor nodded, releasing an ‘oomph’ at a sudden pressure around his middle. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tube of his stethoscope dangling against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, happy tears streaming out. He returned the gesture with soft rubs on her lower back.

“I’m sorry, I’m so emotional,” Y/N pulled away with a huff, using her fingertips to rub the wetness towards her temple. “I’m so happy but I just wished that he was--,” She cut herself off, pursing her lips as an image of Harry carrying their baby appeared in her head.

“I understand, Y/N.” Connor mirrored her distraught expression as he really did feel sorry for Y/N. However, he couldn’t explain the extra twinge in his heart at seeing her frown over a lost love. “You’re doing great on your own,”

She sighed for possibly the tenth time that day, “We both wanted to name her Halo if it’s a girl or Arlo if it’s a boy. It reminds me of what an angel she will be,”

“Wait until she gets older,” Connor joked to lighten the mood, receiving a glimmer from Y/N. “What d’ya say you get changed and I’ll print out this ultrasound, sounds good? A few more months then we can meet baby Halo,”

Halo.

___

Harry’s relationship with Camille was a dream. It was everything he imagined, maybe even better. The first time they dabbled on getting together was four years ago, before Y/N was even around in his life. There could be so many things right about a relationship and it could still be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the right place, the right time, or they simply had too many disagreements and flaws that both parties were unwilling to work it to make them--work.

Usually, the third time would be a charm but Harry felt that he and Camille didn’t need a third time. As he said, the past couple of months felt like a dream. He could close his eyes and still feel the soft skin of the woman he loves grazing his fingertips. He couldn’t help but transpire into a new chapter of their love; one where it wasn’t just them tumbling in the sheets. When the squeals in the kitchen while making breakfast were paired with pleads for whipped cream on their pancakes; a child.

Harry was old enough to know what he wanted--at least, he thought he was--and a family was in his books. He finally found a partner who had the same mindset in their future; Camille. At first, he was absolutely sure that Y/N could not be erased from; but her name wasn't set in stone and once he found someone better--no way in hell was he going to let that be a missed opportunity.

Camile sighed softly, laying on Harry's bare chest as he pulled the sheets over their clammy bodies. Their orgasms settled in their veins, the rush and panting breaths calming down with each blink of an eye.

With her finger swirling patterns on his skin, Harry stared at the ceiling in hesitant contemplation, “Babe, have you ever thought of getting off the pill?” She paused.

“Uh, sure, but then we would have to use a condom?” Her voice raised at the end in curiosity.

Harry released an awkward chuckle, gently swivelling her body off of him so he could sit up. Reaching over, his fingers found the flip of the light switch that turned the bedside lamp on. He smiled at her appearance, mirroring his stance as she sat on the bed, a sheet clung around her body.

He shook his head, “No, no. No condoms, no pills and, y’know. . .”

The confusion was evident on Camille’s features, “I don’t exactly understand what you’re trying to say, H--,’

“‘M asking if y’wanna try for a baby, love.’

Silence overtook the room. Harry held his breath in his throat, seemingly trying to swallow down the lump that had formed because of her lack of response. She cleared her throat.

“A baby?” Harry nodded with excitement despite the flat tone whipping past her lips. “I--don’t know how to say this, Harry. I’ve never wanted kids.”

His face fell, the words lingering around his head like a flock of birds. The dizzying epiphany rattled his head clear of any other thoughts besides the fact that there was a hole in his book; burnt and toasted with sparks inkling his skin.

“W-why not?” His palms fell flat on the silky sheets, fisting the fabric to keep him settled. “A mini you and a mini-me running around the house. Won’t that be fun, baby? Don’t you want that?”

It almost hurt Camille to see the grin plastered on his face, hopeful eyes practically begging her to change her mind. But she couldn’t.

“Harry, that part will be fun. What won’t be fun is getting huge, morning sickness, weird cravings, hormonal imbalance, the aftermath of labour, the sleepless nights, the puke, the changing diapers, the back pain, the headaches, the fights when they’re older and so much more” Her accent rippled with each explanation rejecting the idea.

Harry huffed, crossing his arms subconsciously to shield himself, “But it’ll be worth it,”

“It won’t be,” Camille scooted closer to him, situating herself on her knees so that she could look into his eyes clearly. “Look, I made up my mind ages ago and I thought you felt the same since you haven’t settled down yet”

“I was jus’ lookin’ for the right person,” His head dipped down, dropping his gaze their intertwined hands. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Cam. We can make it work. We’ll have our own family. We’ll be okay,”

She shook her head in refusal, “It will be okay for you, H.” Harry could feel her hands itching to slip past his. He held her tighter. He didn’t want to lose her. “You can get back to work immediately. I’m a model and it takes time to lose weight. Even when I do--I won’t look the same. It’ll take me months, if not years to even resemble my present body.

“I don’t care how your body looks. You’re still gonna’ look amazing. You think I won’t love you after birthing our little baby?” With brows pressed together, he pouted his lip in curiosity as she rolled her eyes.

Camille sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t want children, Harry. The sooner you understand that the better. It’s MY body. I’ll be carrying the kid around for 9 months. No thank you.” She stood up, stumbling slightly as the sheets tangled around her feet.

He followed suit. His height towered over her as she crouched down to collect the pieces of clothing strewn around haphazardly in a rush to have each other. “But it’ll be MY baby, Cam. OUR baby, don’t you want that?”

Fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, holding her clothes as she spoke, “I don’t, Harry. Why can’t you just accept that?”

In the heat of the moment, Harry couldn’t help but quell the ache in his chest with a memory he thought he had thrown away, “Because Y/N and I planned to have a family. A-and I thought you and I could have one too,”

Camille huffed, keeping her distance. She walked to the bathroom, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking cheated on her then,”

___

His fight with Camille left the both of them on edge, barely able to handle the thick tension surrounding the house. Even though she took refuge in the bedroom and Harry wandered to the kitchen to cool off; it was impossible for them to stay in one place without having another argument.

Harry didn’t mean to let the memory slip past his lip. He hated it when he found himself comparing his past relationships to his current one. He felt that there was no need to do so, especially when the point of all of it was to start anew. Harry guessed that his desire to have a family was too powerful to keep his thoughts in check. The ache bubbling in his chest rose to a boil with each rejection that Camille answered with.

It wasn’t like he didn’t respect her decision. He really did. But Harry didn’t know if he was going to be happy being with her without progressing into something more through the years. What he was asking from her is just as difficult as what she was asking from him. Camille didn’t want to have children and Harry didn’t want to not have kids. There was no room for compromise if they both, mutually, wanted to respect each other's' decisions’ to the absolute fullest. However, the chances of him living a content life were zero to none.

And that was how Harry ended up at a bar, alone, at nine o’clock in the evening. They were invited by his friend, Kora, to a birthday celebration. Harry was reaching the limit of his threshold having to fake a smile and a chuckle while saying, “Camille’s feelin’ a bit sick tonight. ‘S just me,”

The thing with this celebration was that Kora was initially Y/N’s friend. He and Kora had become close friends while he was with Y/N and he guessed that that was the reason why he was invited. Although, it made him wonder why one of Y/N’s best friends invited him when she was aware of what happened between them. Surely, there was no way that Kora would invite Y/N, Harry, and Camille to the same crowded space, would she?

The sudden nervousness swirling at the pit of his stomach came with a quick neck as Harry scanned each premise of the bar. It was difficult considering the dim lighting and endless amounts of heads moving against each other. He hoped to see Y/N; just to see how she was doing! But he also felt like puking the alcohol he consumed because--as much as he wanted to admit it or not--he missed her.

After a half-hour of being vigilant, Harry willed himself to relax by the counter. Leaning one elbow on the wood as he spoke to another person regarding his upcoming album.

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s goin’. ‘M really excited for it cause’ I’ve got a lot of inspiration for some reason,” Harry answered with unyielding precision.

“We both know where that came fro--Oh hi! Sorry, H. Gotta check in on, Johnny,”

He rolled his eyes under closed lids, sipping on his drink, eyeing Kora when he heard a quip of Y/N’s name. Harry inconspicuously moved closer to her, making sure that he didn’t catch her attention.

“You’re not here,” Kora yelled with a whine to her tone. Her drunk self was still coherent enough to embark on the bartender to make another drink for her. However, Harry guessed that her senses were obscured with the way she yelled through the phone despite it being held to her ear and the function tapped to ‘speaker’.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, Kora,” Y/N’s gentle chuckle rumbled through the speaker, making Harry smile. It was the first time he heard it in a while. He sometimes wondered if he had the right to feel relieved when Harry was the one that blocked her number in the first place.

“It’s my birthday! Why aren’t you here drinking with us?” Kora quietly thanked the bartender.

Harry’s curiosity spiked; why wasn’t Y/N here tonight?

“It’s because I’m pregnant, silly. Can’t really do that when I’ve got a bubba in my tummy,” Both women giggled, Kora, making a sound of acknowledgement, “Ohhh right!”

He really wished that he would have stuck by long enough to hear more of their conversation but Kora’s boyfriend was approaching her and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything if he was honest.

She moved on fast, Harry thought. He was definitely sounding like an entitled jerk. Hear him out though; Harry was happy with Camille. Yes, he had been cheating on Y/N for a whole year and yes, she had to find out through a letter but Y/N was pregnant.

Did she really move on that quickly?

___

Despite the guilt gnawing at her for missing her best friend Kora’s birthday, Y/N was also looking forward to getting some sleep. It was a couple of hours after their phone call together when the nauseating tightening of Y/N’s chest woke again and had been for the past three days.

It was a horrible feeling that spread from the confines of her stomach. The bile rising up from her throat that left a burning feeling from the acids that escaped her mouth as she quickly threw the covers away from her legs, running towards the direction of her bathroom where she emptied the remnants of her stomach from last night’s craving of pickles and hot Cheetos. Her chest heaved with exertion as she draped her arms over the white porcelain of the disinfected toilet, hunching over as her stomach seemingly pumped away toxins.

Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, visibly shuddering as she pointed a finger to flush the toilet. She had a feeling that she won’t be getting any more sleep despite the time being three o’clock in the morning. Halo was insistent on staying up past normal bedtime hours. Y/N sighed, walking lethargically towards the dresser to retrieve her phone before heading to the living room nearby.

Y/N: You up, doc?

The blue loading bar swooped to the right as Y/N sent a message to Connor. She was at the peak of her pregnancy and her due date was occurring within a few weeks. A lot had changed since the day she found out the gender of her baby. Between the emotional trauma of having been broken up with--the hard-hitting fact was that Y/N was pushed into a direction of pregnancy that wasn’t exactly her ideal path. She pretty much preferred the dream-like sequence of having Harry accompanying her to her ultrasounds.

Just as Y/N was about to delve into another imaginary scenario of Harry sending her cute baby onesies that he would absolutely need to purchase for their little one, the humming of her phone pulled her from drowning in pathetic wishes and desires.

Connor: What’s up, Y/N?

She jutted her lips as she typed out a response. Contemplating whether or not to send the message as Y/N’s thumb hovered over the arrow, she paused to wonder why she was feeling so guilty in texting another man months and antecedent her break up with Harry. He was happy with someone else, yet Y/N felt as if her feet were planted in a puddle of sticky glue; unable to move on from the life she built in her head. Although it hurt to admit that Harry only existed in her memories now, reminiscing the spoken words they have discussed was another stab to her already bruised heart.

Y/N: Halo’s keeping me up again..

Connor: Want me to come over?

To keep you company

The reply was instantaneous and she could not deny the flutter of her heart beating subtly despite the extremities it had endured. And Y/N couldn’t help but notice the jitter of her baby bump morphing a plump bulge where Halo had kicked it as if it was a stamp of approval of the man coming over.

It wasn’t the first time that Connor drove to her place at the brink of dawn to keep her company in case the sickness became too much for Y/N to handle. The first time was simply a desperate action because she was rattled by the sudden spike in dizziness and incoherence of her sickness that Y/N wasn’t confident in herself to handle it alone. Times after that were more for his comfort when Connor said that he would ‘rather be safe than sorry’ while he rubbed his palm up and down her back.

Minutes later, a knock on her door sounded, forcing Y/N to haul her plump body to the comfort of the sofa, pausing the rerun of a television show. She waddled towards the entrance, the fit of her pyjama waistband snuggly wrapping around her mid-belly. A stretch of skin exposed between her bottoms and her tank top.

“Hi, thank you for coming,” Y/N greeted shyly, widening the door to let Connor in as he chuckled, toeing off his shoes by the closet door.

He waved her off, “It’s no problem, really,” Connor assisted her back to her couch, aiding her by letting his hands stabilize in the air in case anything happened.

The moment their bottoms hit the cushions did Y/N realize the gravity of the guilt spiralling in her chest. Connor laughed softly, his back resting on the couch with his right arm resting on the top, fingertips barely brushing over her shoulder. He reached over the coffee table to obtain the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, picking one to munch on but not before looking over at Y/N.

“Want some?”

She snapped out of her daze, cheeks heating profusely at being caught blatantly staring at how Connor fit naturally into her home both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t have appeared at a better time when Y/N not only needed medical assistance and a support group by her side. However, she asked herself if he could be anything more than a friend. She shook her head ‘no’.

“No thanks. I’m quite full,” Y/N pressed a palm to her belly when a kick halted her breath. ‘Okay maybe a little,” She rolled her eyes, scolding Halo. “She’s a hungry one,”

“I’m gonna pop some more popcorn, kay? Be right back,”

Y/N heaved a sigh, watching Connor’s retrieving figure. Her admiration was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

___

Harry wasn’t so sober when he opened the door to his car. He wasn’t in his right mind either when he unblocked Y/N’s number and tapped on her name, switching the screen as it rang. He threw his head back against the headrest, biting his lip when the dial tone rang and rang.

“Hello?”

Harry’s breath hitched, losing his voice momentarily before his slowed brain caught up to move his tongue.

“Y/N? It’s Harry,” He spoke quietly, “Don’t hang up. Hear me out,” His ears stretched to pick up the click of a dropped call but he didn’t hear any.

“Heard from Kora that y’were pregnant, yeah? And I was wondering, whose is it?” The venom in his voice dripped. His drunken stupor rendered him unable to grasp reality.

“I’m not answering that,” Y/N’s tone was firm and direct. Harry could imagine her pursing her lips inwards.

“Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?” The parking lot was filled with cars yet Harry could see that he was the only one currently occupying one. If there was a better metaphor of feeling alone in a crowded place; then he would love to hear it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You cheated on me! You slept with another woman while we were together. You loved another woman while we were together. For an entire year, you lied to me and deceived me,”

“Jus’. . .answer the question,” He pinched his nose bridge, a headache pounding from the bottom of his skull.

“How dare you speak to me this way? You have no right calling me up out of nowhere,” Y/N lowered the volume of her voice, “and asking all these ridiculous questions,”

“S’not ridiculous,”

She gave a smile to Connor who entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling popcorn. Y/N clutched the phone to her chest. Connor situated his body beside her with a glimmering smile, his mouth twitching as he eyed her bump, “Can I talk to her?” A gentle question breezed past his lips, moving closer when Y/N gave him approval.

The man kneeled down on the floor, leaning his head downwards to speak to Halo, “Hey little one, y’gotta be nice to momma, okay?” His fingers waved when her feet kicked out. Connor looked up to Y/N with a proud smile, “Did you see that? She responded!”

___

Harry felt his heart clench as a new voice filled the speakers. His neurons were fried with each thought firing endlessly, “Who’s that?

“Don’t call me again,”

The dial tone rung in his ears, echoing in the quiet space of his Range Rover.

___

Pressing the power button for a few seconds, the device turned black and was left on the arm of the couch. The excitement in Connor’s voice brought a dreamy smile to Y/N’s face, chewing on some popcorn. The beating of her heart seemed to double at the sight of him being so thrilled with her baby.

“We can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re gorgeous,” Connor dropped his volume to a whisper to prevent Y/N from hearing, ‘’Like your mom,”

Y/N’s relaxed and comfortable state of mind mindlessly worked her hands to thread the hair on top of Connor’s head. Just like she used to do to Harry. Her expression dimmed at the thought, painting a faint simper when Connor looked at her in surprise before shrugging it off, continuing to talk to her bump. She shivered when a warm pair of lips attached to the skin of her stomach. Gentle pressure planting a kiss as Connor said his goodbyes to baby Halo.

“She’s a smart one, that much I can tell,” He confirmed, moulding his body to the lingering shape he had left behind in his previous position. And Y/N was flustered to say that she might have scooched a little closer to his body, snuggling her head at the junction of his shoulder.

“Can I?” She asked, doe eyes raising a question that would allow them to cross the boundary they had limited themselves to. He nodded reflexively as if he was awaiting this moment. Connor took the initiative to pull Y/N closer to him, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. The scent of the woman’s shampoo wafting through his nose and invading his senses in a sweet smell that he would gladly immerse himself to.

It was the most pleasant feeling for Y/N to completely let go of her former worries about starting anew when Connor was as cozy as a heater. He made Y/N feel safe and secure with his body shielding her and his actions hinting at a subdued attraction he hadn’t fully shown to her.

And Connor was proud of himself for not quite literally freaking out when Y/N smothered her face to his chest as time passed and the sun rays filtered through the blinds as she fell asleep. Her words mumbled in a jumbled mess about how she wished that morning sickness wasn’t called morning sickness.

It wasn’t totally accurate, she complained. She thought that it was a misleading name; catfishing perhaps. He had chuckled in response, tracing his fingers up and down her arm and feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

The orange hue of the bright star painting the sky lighter and lighter until the pitch-black sight morphed into a mixture of shades that could only be described as beautifully grandiose--just like Y/N’s sleeping face when the sun casts a shadow to highlight her nose, scrunching with the slight graze of the back of Connor’s finger rubbing the tip. Or the way the luminescence caressed the apples of her cheeks where her lashes rested, mouth puffing breaths of air as she allowed herself to be vulnerable for the first time in months.

___

A heavy feeling had settled into Harry's chest after Y/N hung up the phone. The new voice he had heard had unmistakably been a man's. Who was he? Was Y/N having that man's baby?

Before he could help it, Harry was seething. He saw red, and if he were in a children's movie there would be steam coming out of his ears right about now. How dare she move on so fast? How could she have a baby with another man so soon? But when he thought about it; Harry couldn't even recall how long it had been since they'd broken up. It made him feel somewhat guilty. He hadn't meant to forget her. It had just happened.

His guilt soon manifested into frustration-- her being pregnant was a constant reminder that she had moved on with another man. Insecurity clawed at his insides- did he really mean that little to her? 'You cheated on her', his conscience pricked, but he brushed away the thought. He hated being reminded of his infidelity to his fiancée.

His defence mechanism kicked in like clockwork, using aggression to shield his insecurities. He opened his messages app and clicked her contact, typing drunkenly.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*'

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet youu did'

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck u'

He smiled smugly at his phone screen, satisfied with what he had sent her. He shut his phone off, and started his car, ready to drive back home. He knew he was being irresponsible, but between his current girlfriend not wanting a child and his ex being pregnant with one; he couldn't bring himself to care. He drove himself home, only to find a terribly worried Camille waiting for him to arrive.

He glanced at the huge clock on the wall behind her. 1:32 am. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed past her to their bedroom. In his drunken gait, he knocked over a metal tray. The loud 'clang' made him hiss and clutch his temples, a headache pounding in his skull.

Camille sighed and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and muttering a "come here, H" Despite his sour mood, he found himself craving affection. What he wouldn't admit was that he didn't crave Camille's affection in particular. He just wanted to be held and feel safe in someone's arms. Anyone's arms. But despite himself, he mumbled, "m'sorry I left like tha'. Should'nt 've spoken to ya that way,"

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay, Harry, you're back home now. C'mon, let's get you changed and then let's sleep."

He bobbed his head up and down, willingly letting her drag him up the stairs to their shared bedroom, "Love ya,” Camille helped him out of his trousers.

She smiled softly, "Love you too, mon Cheri,” He giggled drunkenly at the showcase of her accent.

___

Harry woke up with a pounding headache, whining as his alarm rang at eight am in the morning. He opened his eyes to see that Camille wasn't in bed with him. His lips fell into a pout because of waking up alone.

There was a note on the bedside table.

'got called in for an emergency meeting for the show next week. be home by 5pm. love you!'

He sighed and reached for the glass of water she had left him. His brows furrowed when he didn't see Ibuprofen next to the water. Y/N left him ibuprofen beside the glass of water. Always. Harry snapped himself out of his daze, reprimanding himself for even thinking about her. Why is he thinking about her?

After a hot shower, Harry made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast. 'Eggs and toast', he thought. Placing 2 eggs in water and setting it on the stove before loading the toaster. He looked mindlessly through the drinks in the fridge, settling on 'Organic Orange Juice'. Y/N had introduced him to this particular brand after he had complained that all the others had too much sugar to be 'healthy'.

___

"This has no added sugar, H," she mentioned, "They sweeten it with honey."

___

Harry groaned, snapping himself out of the daydream, ashamed for thinking about his ex. Again.

He placed his breakfast on a plate and poured himself a glass of juice, sitting at the dining table alone. He chewed slowly with a mouthful as he unlocked his phone, beginning to go through his notifications.

Camille sent him a text. It was a selfie of her at her meeting, smiling and holding up a peace sign. He mirrored the expression, sending a text back

Harry: "stop being so cute"

He clicked the ‘back’ icon.

The second he does, his heart positively skips a beat. Not in a good way, either. Y/N's contact was just below Camille's, suddenly remembering the nasty things he had texted her the previous night.

"Fuck," He whispered under his breath, opening her contact. 'Read' was plastered under the messages he had sent. Y/N had seen them.

Connor had left a few hours later because he had morning rounds at the clinic the next day. Y/N had bid him goodbye with a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth,

“Thanks for coming, C,"

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace "Anytime, angel," into her hair. A warmth spread through her chest--one that she hadn’t felt in a long while.

After Connor drove off (with a final wave from his car window, of course), Y/N walked back in to settle on her couch again. Halo kicked a few times as she sat down, making Y/N squirm and giggle.

"Hi, you little goose! What's got you all excited, hm?" She rubbed over the area where Y/N felt the kick. As if, in response to her mother's voice, baby Halo kicked out again, right where Y/N's palm was. "Are you trying to high-five me, precious girl?"

Y/N cooed at her swelling tummy, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Or are ya just excited about Connor coming over to spend time with us? Got a good feeling about him, have you?"

She feels a gentle kick, it was almost as if the baby in her tummy wanted to say 'yes'. Y/N hummed softly, caressing her tummy, "Me too, angel. I've got a good feeling about him, too."

A few minutes later, Y/N reboots her phone her previously switched off phone so that she could see if Connor had texted her. He had.

C: Thanks for letting me spend time with you and Halo tonight. I loved it. I have a bit of time off on Sunday, do you want to get Pizza?'

Her eyes gleamed, but she hesitated for just a second. Connor had texted her. But so had Harry. He had sent her five messages, and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to see what he had to say.

She wanted to make sure before texting Connor back. Y/N was not sure what she was expecting or hoping for, but what she saw was certainly not it.

Harry: 'Your a whore'

'You're*',

'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet you did

'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'

'fck you'

She felt tears stinging her eyes, cursing at the pregnancy hormones that have gotten her feeling this emotional about drunk texts from her ex. Her body ignited with fury quicker than she realized she could. Y/N doesn't hesitate to click the 'block' button to his contact.

She didn't need a man like him around her or her baby. Or her potential boyfriend.

Y/N: 'Hiya!,'

'it was great having you over, and I'd love to hang out! Down for pizza anytime. Halo loves it too :P'

The reply was instantaneous

C: 'Great!'

'See you Sunday, then! What are your favourite toppings?"

Y/N smiled brightly, finding his curiosity incredibly endearing. She typed back a response, gleaming with joy at the fact that she finally had someone she could rely on.

___

"Fuck. fuck fuck fuck," Harry repeated, clicking the call button to Y/N's contact. He needed to apologize. Desperately. He needed her to know that he didn't mean any of those things; he was just drunk. Not that that was an excuse.

'The number you are trying to reach is not in service', an automated voice said.

Harry groaned in frustration, opening her message contact, typing out;

Harry: "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me. I was drunk. I'm very sorry, Y/N xx H."

He took a bite out of his toast before looking back at his screen to see if she had read the message yet. He almost wished he hadn't. Harry’s heart plummeted. His chest constricted as tears stung at the back of his eyes. Throwing up the meal he just scarfed sounded like an option right now.

A flaming red exclamation mark met his startled glance, and his chest heaved as he read,

'Not delivered,'

___

As usual, let us know what you thought!

Reign aka pt3 is already up on Patreon (link in bio!)

Reign will be uploaded on Tumblr on Monday, August 31. ___

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

Text

Three Days With You - Part Two

Summary: Draco has a rather interesting day planned for the two of you. Joined by familiar faces, old wounds resurface leaving the two of you with more questions than answers.

Warnings: smut,mature language and scenes, drinking, a fair amount of angst, mentions of blood

Word count: 3000

A/n: it’s 4am and I’m sleep deprived. This series is a bit plot heavy as opposed to WOS. I tried so very hard to fit everything under the 3000 word limit I’ve set for each part.

Song that plays as they dance: Fade into you by Mazzy Star

Part one | Masterlist

~~~

Sometime around Umbridge’s reign of terror, 5th year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

With his arms folded, Draco casually reclined against the wall and he watched you write lines with Umbridge’s quill. He tried to keep a straight face but it was hard not to wince as he watched the words etch themselves onto your skin.

It seemed that Dolores Jane Umbridgde wasn’t really fond of you. In fact, he was certain she despised you just as much as Potter.

This was your third consecutive evening in detention and as a member of the inquisitorial squad, he was tasked with the duty of keeping an eye on you.

And while you did a moderately decent job of keeping a straight face through the searing sensations, he could sense that you were clearly in pain.

“Murtlap essence.” Draco said quietly and you dropped the quill and turned around to look at him. “It should help with the abrasions.”

“Why are you talking to me, Malfoy?”

Draco arched a brow at your question but internally, he too was pondering why he was talking to you.

Nobody talked to you.

You always spent most of your time scribbling furiously into what looked like a diary of some sort. You barely had any friends and most of his so-called friends were very upfront about their disdain for you and your muggleborn heritage.

“Why can’t I talk to you?” He finally asked, walking up to where you were seated.

“Are you asking me or are you asking yourself?” You quipped and went back to writing lines with that wretched quill. You always seemed so unbothered by everything.

A part of his brain was telling him to shut up and another part of his brain was trying to come up with a witty response just to impress you.

“I’m asking you.” He sighed in defeat before crouching down next to you to look at the gashes on your hand. “Why can I not talk to you?”

“Hm, let’s see..” You said with a bit more salt than you intended to. “Your Pure blood ideals that classify people like me as mudbloods, the prejudice, not to mention Umbitch who wouldn’t be very pleased to see you talk to me while I’m writing lines for her.”

His fingertips ghosted over your cuts, barely making contact with the blood as he contemplated running outside to look for some murtlap essence himself.

“Dont.” You winced when his skin made contact with the cuts. “Just don’t. I don’t need your pity.”

His eyes caught sight of yours as you pulled your hand away and he immediately felt uneasy at the sight of them. It was a kind of wistfulness, a type of yearning and nostalgia for something that never was. Something that never could be. And it somehow made him want it even more.

Draco lifted his hand, letting his fingers brush against your cheek and he heard you reflexively draw in a sharp breath.

He found himself leaning in to capture your lips in his but you hesitated.

“It wouldn’t be justifiable if something happened in between us.” You whispered, leaning an inch away from him. “It would be highly inconvenient for you if someone found out.”

“Then I guess, no one must know.” His voice was hoarse before he crashed his lips into yours.

How was he ever going to explain himself if anyone found out? His whole life, he was taught to be repelled by your kind. He was, however, anything but repelled.

He was swallowing all of the little whimpers that you made and he was revelling in the feel of your smooth skin underneath your shirt.

How was he ever going to justify the way he was slowly allowing his fingers to trace your inner thighs before pushing your panties aside to press his finger into your wetness.

Gods, the sounds you were making when he pushed a finger inside of you.

Why were you allowing him to touch you like this?

Hair tousled, shirt unbuttoned with your breasts falling out, legs spread open for him to see. For him to claim.

“Is this okay?” He asked before taking a slow lick up your soaked cunt and you raked your fingers into his hair and gripped hard as you nodded eagerly.

One taste of you and instantaneously forgot everything that was expected of him. It didn’t bother him what type of blood ran through your veins. The way he wanted to kneel and worship your pretty and wet cunt was more sacred than the entire bloody sacred twenty eight.

When he finally lined his hardened erection up against your entrance, he noticed that you had suddenly tensed. Your hesitation was notable in the way you tilted your head and stared at the floor like your life depended on it.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, using his index finger to tilt your face back to him. “Tell me, y/n. Do you want me to stop?”

That was the first time he’d used your given name and saying it made his ears turn hot.

“No—No I don’t want you to stop.” You whispered, still refusing to look at him. “It’s just that—I’ve never..”

How could he have been so dense?

The way you were digging your nails into his arms, your whimpers, and the way you winced when he pushed his fingers inside you should have told him that you were a virgin.

He caressed your cheeks slightly and dipped his head lower to press a kiss onto your forehead before backing away.

He didn’t want your first time to be with someone like him, during Umbridge’s detention of all places with your cuts still bleeding and seeping into the cotton of his white shirt.

“Draco don’t.” You whispered his given name softly and grabbed him by the arm before he had the chance to walk away. “Don’t go.”

“But y/n—”

You pulled him in and pressed your lips on his before he could reason with you.

He had the choice to walk away from you, from all this but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt different with you.

He asked you one more time before lining himself up against you. And when you gave him a soft and breathy “yes”, he pushed.

Your walls clenched him in and you tried your best to repress your tearful whimper by biting down on the exposed part of his shoulder.

He made sure to be gentle with you when he made the first few thrusts.

Soon enough, your grip on his arms loosened. Your cries morphed into tiny little gasps and moans of his name and you began to kiss the same place you were previously biting.

And at that very moment he knew you had surrendered yourself to him.

Wholly. Completely. Entirely.

At the particular moment, you belonged to nobody but Draco Lucius Malfoy and he—

~~~

Present day, Pilgrim’s Inn, 9:27 Am

Draco, fixing you both a cup of coffee, stilled and snapped out of the flashback inside his mind when you let out a small grumble in your sleep and reached towards his side of the bed.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself when he noticed the visibly annoyed look on your sleepy face when all you felt were pillows and sheets.

As much he wanted to sit and watch you sleep like a mega creep, it seemed like a good time to wake you up.

~~~

He was still wearing the same trousers and black shirt from the previous night when your eyes fluttered open. Only this morning, the shirt was buttoned halfway, exposing most of his chest and torso. The sleeves had been rolled back and you felt your stomach twist into a knot at the sight of his dark mark.

It served as a constant reminder that you only really had three days with him.

Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, Draco stood up and walked towards the bed with a ceramic mug filled to the brim with coffee causing your lips to twist into a grateful smile.

“Drink up.” He said as he sat down on the chair next to you. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

After a big gulp of the coffee, you put the mug on the bed side table and looked at him.

“We do?”

“Of course we do.” He motioned towards a turquoise box on top of the dresser, sounding giddy and excited. He almost sounded like the carefree and careless Draco you loved to hate from the first few years at school.

You quickly threw the duvet off your body and scurried towards the dresser; the floorboards of the inn creaked as you did so.

“What’s in the box?” You turned your head back to look at him.

Draco’s cheeks were flushed and he was watching you with darkened eyes. His firm grip on the mug made his knuckles turn pale and you only realized you were standing in front of him naked when you saw the growing bulge in his pants

You ignored your own blood rush to your cheeks while you unwrapped the box to see what he was so excited about.

It was an oxblood red dress, with the softest fabric you’d ever touched. Long flowy sleeves and a plunging neckline, it was strikingly gorgeous.

“A Dress Draco?” You raised a brow at him.

“For our very first date. And for later..” he smirked and you scanned the entire dresser to find an appropriate object to throw at him.

“That’s some way to ask a girl out and must you always think about sex?!” You accused even though you were thinking about it too and reached for a book he’d left on top of the dresser to throw at him.

Before launching the book his way, you paused to examine the book on your hand that read Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage. It was only then that you realized that more than half of the books he had in the inn were about potions and alchemy.

How could you have not realised? Potions was the only subject he really seemed to enjoy at school.

Even during the nights you spent together back in school, you’d prop yourself up on his bed, wrap a sheet carelessly around your bare body and watch him stay up late to work on his Potions homework.

You’d always encourage him towards a career in potion making and he’d smile wistfully at the idea before turning to look at the snake and skull tattoo on his forearm. With a vacant look in his otherwise mercurial eyes, he’d remind you that he would have liked that if the circumstances were different.

You dropped the book back on the desk and instantly flung yourself into his arms.

~~~~

When he felt you wrap your arms tightly around his torso, Draco stiffened.

The way you were holding him made it seem like you were already saying your goodbyes and he felt as if someone had repeatedly used the cruciatus curse on him. He couldn’t bring himself to think about his life without you in it.

He wasn’t ready.

Draco quickly sorted out his scrambled thoughts and placed his oculomancy walls up as high as he could.

“As sexy as you are naked, I’d very much like to see that dress on you.”

You slightly sniffled before walking back towards the dresser to slip the dress on. The way you struggled with the zipper was adorable to him and he helped you zip it up with a crooked grin on his face.

Considering the present situation, taking you outside of the inn was risky so he’d taken it upon himself to arrange a perfect little lunch at the inn itself. Complete with vintage wine, a lavish main course and a decadent dessert to top it all off.

Sure, it took another huge wad of muggle cash, and coaxing the owner but the look on your face when he fed you a spoonful of chocolate mousse was worth it.

He was going to be the best fucking boyfriend on the face of this planet even if it was only for three days.

Draco took your hand, kissed you on the knuckle, guided you to the table, pulled your chair out for you and tried his hardest to not stare at your cleavage for more than thirty seconds.

Thank Merlin for all of the etiquette training he had to undergo when he was younger!

~~~

The two of you didn't really get around making much progress on the rest of the items on Draco’s itinerary filled with cliched tripes like reading poetry to each other and slow dancing to a song playing on the vintage turntable in the far corner of the room.

You’d never taken him for a romantic but he was adamant on the idea of finding “your song” from the tracks on the record that was spinning round and round.

When the both of you finally stopped bickering and agreed on a song, he stood up in front of you and offered you his hand.

Fade into you. Strange you never knew…

The chorus went as he took the lead and swayed you slowly across the room, careful not to trip on furniture.

Both of you barely made it to the end of the song and you weren’t even surprised.

~~~

“Gods you really do look beautiful in this dress..” he let out a low growl when he stopped dancing to pin you against the mattress and attach his lips to the pulse point of your neck.

To his utter surprise, you wasted no time in yanking his belt buckle.

“I need you…Draco Lucius Malfoy.” You pleaded as you started to pump his length in your hand. “I need you now.”

Urgency was dripping through every syllable that left your lipstick smudged mouth. Arousal was seeping through the fabric of your panties and Draco was afraid he’d come just by watching you like that.

“Say it again..” he whispered as he attached his mouth to your firm nipple. “Please—y/n, just say my name like that again..”

“Draco…”

With no hesitation or remorse, he pried your legs apart and pushed his cock right where it belonged inside of you. The way your body reacted to the motion drove him insane.

He often questioned his place in the universe, it was a constant battle between light and dark, between right and wrong.

But with you, he always felt like he belonged.

“You’re going to make me come…Draco..”

He buried his face into your hair and continued to fuck you like there was no tomorrow.

It was never like this with anybody else for him. And it was never going to be.

“I love you.” You whispered as you succumbed to your orgasm, heedless of the way your words would affect him.

How could you say those words out loud so often and not care about the consequences that came along with it?

“Don’t be selfish..” He groaned, feeling his own high approaching at the sound of those words. “Don’t you dare…”

“I love you.” You moaned, louder this time. “I love—”

He silenced you with a kiss before you could say it again. The weight of those words were always too much for him. Especially when he knew he had less than seventy two hours with you.

Draco began to think about all those years of childish games and wasted time as strong stinging sensations prickled up on his skin.

First, at the pit of his stomach. Then, on his left forearm.

He’d been called upon.

~~~

“Do not leave this inn. You understand?” He warned as he quickly redressed. “I’ll have someone sent over to look after you.”

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” You protested as you wrapped the sheets around your body and got out of bed. “I don’t need a babysitter,Draco.”

His eyes darkened and his expressions hardened as he heard your words and you gulped when he stormed over to where you stood.

“Listen to me carefully.” He gripped hard onto your shoulders and shook you. “Stay put and only open the door if you hear three knocks.”

It took a second for you to let his words sink in but you slowly nodded.

His cold hands cupped either of your cheeks and his forehead pressed up against yours; desperate and frantic eyes stared back at you.

“I have one more thing on my itinerary for us.” He said, conjuring the best smile he could give you before leaning in to press a slow and soft kiss on your lips. “I’ll be back soon.”

You held onto his words, dressed yourself in one of his sweaters, paced back and forth in the room, made yourself a cup of strong black coffee and even read through his extensive collection of books.

After what seemed like an hour, you heard it. Three very precise knocks on your door.

Very anxiously, you opened the door to find a brunette boy giving you a Cheshire Cat kind of smile.

He casually leaned forward to squeeze you into a bone crushing hug as if you were a long lost family member and you scrunched up your nose, awkwardly hugging back.

“I believe a proper introduction is long overdue.” He said as he let go. “Theodore Nott.”

“I know who you are.” You mumbled as you stepped back to let him in. “I have seen you in class.”

“Great.” He smiled as his eyes danced around the room to look at the books, the coffee pot, the turntable and the remains of what used to be the dress Draco got you.

A bright pink flush swiped across your cheeks as Theo disapprovingly shook his head. “I know you both spent half of the day shagging but please tell me you managed to do at least five activities from the itinerary!”

“How do you know all this?”

“Because I had to unfortunately sit and watch him put the blasted itinerary together.” Theo sighed, as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffee pot before reaching for a tiny flask inside his jacket. “Occulumancy aside, Ferret is also rubbish at hiding things from me.”

You let out a snort when you remembered Draco the ferret.

After your laughter simmered down, Theo took a rather cautious step towards you before offering you his flask.

“Nothing happened between him and Pansy that day y/n.”

Your heart started to ache as your mind started recollecting that day. That goddamned day.

“And you’re telling me this now because?”

Theo sat down on the floor and patted the empty space next to him with a sad little smile on his face.

“Closure.”

(To be continued….)

~~~~~~

Part three preview:

The two of you laid peacefully next to each other one top of a picnic blanket he’d conjured, somewhere in the middle of a forest clearing

The stark black sky was littered with a million shimmering stars. Protective wards were in place and the air was saturated with the scent of pine wood and moss.

From across the blanket, Draco reached for your hand and gave it a little squeeze and you turned to your side to get a better view of him—his silver hair giving the moonlight a run for its money.

“Lyrids.” He smiled, pointing his index finger at the sky as meteors started falling from the sky, one after another…

TDWY tag list: @nicofiliac @emma67 @kimberlyxmalfoy @palecaramel @letoof @ameliasbitvh @sycathorn-slush @dr4cking @malfoyswifeyy @arzfia @icedlattewithalmondmilk @alisslahey @lieswithoutfairytales @dracoslittlesunflower @dmalfoyswhore @serpentesonagli @dracomalfoys-wh0re

Join the series tag list here.

Love,

A very sleep deprived and delirious vi

#draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fic #draco angst #draco lucius malfoy #draco series #draco x reader smut #draco x you #draco x reader #draco smut #three days with you #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy

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stylistiquements · 3 years

Text

The Sorcerer pt. 2

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated. {Playlist}

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟮 : 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚

Being a friend is never an easy task, especially when the other person is no normal human being. When the realization reaches you it's accompanied by its own conclusions.

☾ Words : 4830.

☾ Warnings : angst, the tiniest bit of swearing (for once)

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The agitation of your eyes has fallen flat by now; Corpse had plenty of time to think -be obsessed- about it as days and night coagulated into nothing but an ultimate and meaningless node. Sleepless were the nights when he thought about you, considered what he could do to get back to you. The lack of sleep combined with the desperation and Corpse is pretty sure he wandered to every possibility he could think of before concluding that this new element wasn’t much progress. Less than 1% of global population have heterochromia, Corpse did the math. Somehow, it still isn’t enough to know where to look for.

He is just helpless. The wish is strong, unshakable and there’s always a point in those circumstances where the yearning turns into a new obsession.

When Corpse covers his face with a black mask, it’s an act of impulse disguised in a need to spare his own sanity. It doesn’t matter if it only makes sense to him, it’s too late to detach the thought of his brain. So, in one motion, the dark cloak waves in the air until it's secured on his shoulders. He slides the hood on his forehead. There’s really no need for Corpse to make it so ceremonial if not the responsibility he bears to carry on his body a tradition that has been lasting for centuries.

The light coming out of the sky is subdued to the right extent. The rain is delicately trickling on Corpse, turning the part of his fluffy hair that isn’t protected by the hood into damped and defined locks of curls that let droplets run on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t mind, that’s the weather he deems to be the loveliest. It allows him to gather and sort his thoughts out. It’s his bond with the rain; as if it fueled him with enough electricity to keep going.

Corpse makes his way through the meadow. It’s not as bright as in his dreams, dipped into a light morning mist, but the place smells like fresh and humid grass. It’s intoxicating and comforting like an old memory trying to reemerge. His shoes are getting coated in mud, making every step a little tedious but he only realizes it when he comes face to face with his home and his feet are almost stuck to the ground.

By “home”, I mean what’s left of it. In that Corpse is barely able to guess the structure of it.

Fuck. How long has it been since those ruins stopped looking like his home? There’s really nothing left if not a few brick walls covered by nature that struggle to rise from the ground. Corpse wanders around, trying to remember where each room once stood in the remains. He can’t get much except for the two parts he sees when he sleeps; the kitchen made out of wooden walls and the living room he only saw once. There’s still so much left uncovered and the mystery will now keep on forever. His humble house probably witnessed a few wars in its lifetime. Corpse feels bitter just thinking about it; a home built by love and destroyed by hate.

Corpse should’ve known, he should’ve known better that what he saw in his sleep was nothing but the oniric personification of his expectations. Nothing more, maybe less. He was a fool for letting his delusions feel like reality. But there’s the intention to deny the facts when his hand brushes the air and let appear the chimera of what, to him, should’ve still been standing in front of him; the picture of his true home. A pale copy deprived of any warmth, yet still visual enough to bring some sense of easing.

Corpse’s phone vibrates in his pocket and by the time his hand reaches the device, the house is back to its miserable state.

“What do you think you’re doing right now?” Sykkuno asks and Corpse huffs, bitter smirk carved on his lips.

Sykkuno knows. In fact, he figured out that Corpse would be here when he told him about his previous dream. Sykkuno knew that Corpse would feel the need to lock himself inside the memories he couldn't even remember. It hurts, but maybe the pain would be fruitful and he would finally recollect what’s missing, one last attempt to make you seem realer. This is just how his brain works and Sykkuno is a little too aware of that.

Corpse isn’t sure of what he’s doing either anymore. He thought that it would help somehow, he could’ve almost convinced himself completely, but here he is standing in the middle of an overgrown mess he once called home. There’s nothing left in here. He understands it now by the expectation versus reality that stands in front of him.

“The answers you’re looking for aren’t here, stop torturing yourself,” Sykkuno says with a tone that is so sweet and compassionate it fills Corpse’s mouth with a melancholic taste.

But he’s wrong on one point; Corpse isn’t looking for answers, he’s looking for what questions to ask. There’s so many of them and he’s simply not sure what is important and what isn’t anymore.

“I know,” Corpse mutters.

“Go back to your place Corpse,” he murmurs softly. “This isn’t home anymore.”

So what is? Corpse spent a lifetime running away and another one trying to remember what home feels like. Maybe, if you really think about it, it’s no longer about you. Maybe Corpse just doesn’t know how to be anymore. If only it could have been written somewhere; what he’s supposed to do, how he’s supposed to feel … but there’s no guideline for that type of situation. There’s no guideline and there should be.

There’s a minute of pure robotic silence and heavy breathing. The rain is streaming down Corpse’s cloak, the cold getting closer and closer to his core.

“Alright,” he whispers numbly.

Maybe seeing this place one last time is similar enough to what closure is. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he takes one last deep breath before leaving without ever looking back. What’s the point anyway?

“We’re all waiting for you, you know, so just go back to your place," Sykkuno says.

There’s really no reason for why you decided to narrate horror stories on youtube, nor to make of your appearance one of those many mysteries people love to speculate about. You wish there were something more, something meaningful, but it just stops at the fact that you’ve always felt drawn to horror and mysteries. A peculiar passion of some sort. Maybe, it shouldn’t have come as that much of a surprise when you became the secret bearer you are now. Could this be your official title? You wish it could. “Y/n the secret bearer” sounds pretty badass.

It was 5:55 when your eyes opened today, just like every day. The first merciless rays of the sun in a beautiful golden and pink hued sky rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. The morning air was raspy, landing on your skin to spread shivers on your bare arms. You could have buried your face in the pillow all you wanted, with a mind wandering wherever it felt like it, there was absolutely no way you’d fall back asleep.

Corpse Husband.

Now, your filled tub spreads steam on the tiles of the bathroom. Your hands scoop the water and pour the liquid on your shoulders to warm you up. It’s a little too warm, making your heart palpitate, but it’s embracing, light and easing your body until you’re completely comfortable. The smell of coffee hits your dozing nostrils with its strong scent. You enjoy the light music that waves through your ears and clear the morning fog out of your mind. The cup meets your lips and the liquid runs on your tongue. Spicy.

Your phone, flashing white light between your palms, is displaying none of the interesting information you’re looking for. Dream hasn’t shown any sign of life in a couple of days now. In fact, he hasn’t since he entrusted you with yet another secret he kept safe inside his pocket. Who knows how many others could be hidden in there. Probably too much for you to trust humankind ever again.

Corpse Husband.

You set the device aside and, on instinct, you close your eyes before immersing your head under water, letting it swallow you whole. You attempt to regulate the flow of thoughts that congests in your head. There’s this trick Dream taught you some time ago, a trick you could use to talk to him when he was gone and you needed him. He said it should remain for emergency purposes but maybe, if the number 5 case wasn’t enough for this audience to be necessary, checking on your missing friend would be. It should be.

The vibrations from reality get filtered, blurry, and you can feel your hair floating around your head. It’s light and heavy, your heart starts beating with more vigor. Your mind recognizes the place but your body can never get used to it; it’s the void, the nothingness, the dark. A mental place that belongs to you.

There’s nothing graphic about it and when you master it with enough precision, there’s no feeling attached to it either. That's why, for someone who is so used to experiencing material life, it took time to adjust. It’s more of a concept than it is a thing.

Dream’s name echoes a few time. Usually that’s when he appears, him and his white smiley mask. Yet, this time, you’re forced to open your eyes again and catch your breath before running out of oxygen.

Where could Dream be? That’s the inquiry that ping pongs inside your brain every once in a while when he disappears as he does, leaving additional questions to live rent-free in a place that is getting more and more cramped.

You bring your knees to your chest. Being friends with someone who isn’t even human, how are you supposed to do that? You sigh; there’s no guideline and there should be. How are you supposed to handle the idea that there’s always a profuse chance that Dream might never come back? A chance, or an important possibility.

The concept of Dream’s existence seems so easy to dismantle, so fragile for someone who’s supposed to live forever. The idea leaves you powerless, a little helpless.

He never dares to explain what happens when he ventures on foreign lands -to which the purpose remains a secret- and never considered answering any of the questions that used to burn your tongue so ardently.

At first, he had that serious tone in his voice, the bad kind of serious when he’d repeat “that’s not something a human should know”. Now he just laughs it off, probably thinking that joking would make the rejection easier. It’s not unusual that you even forget to ask or find yourself afraid Dream might start filling the gaps with answers. If you truly let it, the thought would penetrate inside your body and run through your veins to get you high on fear and worries.

Corpse Husband.

Maybe that’s why being friends with Corpse, knowing who he really is, doesn’t seem like that much of a good idea anymore. Could you really dread another loss? No, obviously, you can't.

At the request of a nervous Sykkuno, the amigops were reunited to play a round of self-indulgent uno before an upcoming livestream. It was like a secret reunion but, honestly, it's more of an excuse to clear some time off of their schedule and spend time together, just the 4 of them.

Corpse really doesn’t get why he accepted to play in the first place, believing that he would neither be a good partner nor of a good company in terms of conversation. But he felt like his friends needed him and how could he ever say no? He was rather wrong when he underestimated the assets of normal human interactions. But it’s good; it means he’s still able to think, it means he survived.

“Did Dream text you back?” Sykkuno wonders, high tone that lets Corpse know he hesitated before asking. When Corpse chooses to remain silent and play a card instead, Sykkuno senses the answer is nothing positive.

“Is this something we should be aware of?” Toast questions while drawing 2 cards.

“Not sure,” Corpse mutters, eyebrows frowning and eyes squinting on Sykkuno’s deck, trying to elaborate a strategy. Him and his teammate are so close to winning Corpse knows for sure they won’t. “Let’s say someone knows something they shouldn’t and it’s bothering me.”

“Can we stop playing riddle for a second?” Rae asks. “This is a little too cryptic for me.”

“Someone knows that Corpse is a sorcerer because Dream snitched,” Sykkuno informs as he readjusts his position on his seat and clears his throat.

Corpse lets a satisfied hum escape his lips, Sykkuno followed the plan accordingly when he played the card he wanted him to. Corpse has visibly no intention to focus on that conversation.

The truth is Corpse felt safe for a moment, knowing that you were aware of whom he truly is but, after processing the information you let him on, he concluded that he didn’t like that idea one bit. The fact that a human has more or less the concept of his existence between their fingers leaves him with a nasty taste of anticipation.

You could absolutely fuck things up for him and, knowing you, Corpse is aware he doesn’t have much time left before you start taunting him with his own nature. Trust is a long journey, especially for someone who has been betrayed for longer than a lifetime.

Maybe he should talk about it, express his fears and let you know how damaging, devastating it could be to his life. He wishes he could, he really does but there’s this sense of sorcerer pride that barely hangs above his head like a sword of Damocles and it feels like exposing his untamed emotions would be the final cut before that sword slices his ego to dust.

“Why would Dream snitch in the first place?” Rae’s voice gets more robust; considering Corpse as one of her protegees has never been an easy task and it shows. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Corpse mumbles. “I thought I knew but I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Maybe you should invite them to play with us sometimes. It’s better to keep an eye on them, right?” Toast intervenes.

“Uno!” Rae cheers without a warning, Sykkuno and Corpse exhale in unison. They both knew it would end up this way but it doesn’t revoke the slight frustration of only having 2 cards left in Corpse’s virtual hand.

“You’re talking about them as if they were an enemy but I think they’re rather a friend,” Sykkuno notes as he throws a +4 on the pile.

Funny what an odd timing can do. Corpse’s phone lights up near the candle. It’s showing a curious notification he could’ve never been able to anticipate, especially coming from you; [I’m still thinking about you] and Corpse’s heart hurts just a little while his breath gets caught up in his throat. His eyes flicker for a moment before he realizes what you really mean by that. He clears his throat.

“Acquaintance,” Corpse corrects. He knows his teammate is silently rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disapprobation. He should’ve probably kept his mouth shut, he realizes it now. Here we go again.

“Everyone is acquaintance to you, Corpse” Rae grumbles, getting ahead of Sykkuno’s thoughts with a tone that lets transpire the lightest glimpse of irritation.

“Not true,” he fights back. “You guys are my friends.”

Sykkuno makes this aww noise, heart getting a little softened by the confession he only half believes in.

[What are you gonna do about that?] He types.

“Nice catch, buddy,” Toast smirks. Corpse doesn’t know if he is referring to him slightly changing the subject or to him throwing a +2 on another +2 but there’s a beginning of a smile on his lips when he realizes he succeeded with setting a diversion for both of the issues he found himself dipped in.

[I don’t know, thought you were supposed to take care of it,] you reply.

[Don’t you like thinking about me all day long?] He adds with a sly smile.

[I’m not answering that question.]

[Yeah I wouldn’t like it either.]

He debates for a second. An idea bloomed in his mind a few days ago but he isn’t sure if he should let it out just yet. Why not? Corpse doesn’t know himself. Maybe that’s what he is trying to find out but he eventually has to give up. He has to because you won’t.

[There’s this spell you can use. It’s very easy and human friendly, you should try it.]

[You could’ve started with that a week ago,] you answer.

Corpse doesn’t respond, just huffs. He’s waiting, eyes fixed on the bright screen until his vision turns blurry, witnessing the three dots indicating that you’re typing appear and fade away a few times. Say it. He’s waiting and-

“Well, I wanna meet someone whom I’m gonna hear a lot about,” Rae says while drawing the 4 cards without even noticing.

“No one said you’re gonna hear more than that, ‘Raerae’,” Corpse scoffs, chuckling to mask the slight annoyance this conversation provides. “There’s nothing more to say.”

His eyes are back on the phone now. The dots disappeared for good this time. Somehow, Corpse is still waiting, feet wiggling under his chair as his fingers wrap with more confidence on the device in the palm of his hand. Just say it.

“You’re such a bad liar,” Sykkuno sighs.

“You know what? You should invite them to play uno on the next stream. I’ll leave my spot just to watch that.” Toast deviously adds to which Rae silently agrees.

No you wouldn’t. There’s a curious silence when Corpse chooses to let the words fade in his mouth and the conversation dries down. Toast’s pixelated hand gets filled with more and more cards which forces him to sigh heavily in frustration.

“This conversation is getting annoying,” Corpse mumbles under his breath.

[Fine, just tell me what to do,] you finally type and, somehow, it feels like you were knocked out of your own game.

When Dream finally finds his way back home, he lets his body sink into a chair in front of the fireplace, eyes closed and exhausted limbs that can barely move. The moon is taking its reign in a sky that looks like mixed feelings; half still awake, half already asleep.

The silence rings into his empty mind as he exhales. Being home after traveling for so long always brings a special sense of solace, a sense of belonging. He raises a finger and fire starts consuming the logs of wood in the fireplace. The heat, slowly easing the tension in his muscles.

Silence, it’s probably what causes the faint creak of his wooden floor to be so distinct. Dream’s first instinct is panic, they found him, his alerted eyes scan the empty room. There’s nothing but himself, the faint reflection of his shadows and the stone that the walls are made of. He likes the stone, it carries so much energy with it, but right now it sends awful shivers down his spine. Dream debates whether he should get up to investigate or not but fear already forbids it.

He finally meets an habitual energy and his breath cools down his burning lungs.

“What are you doing here, George?” He exhales deeply.

George reveals himself with an unabashed look on his face which, in itself, surprises Dream more than the fact that he’s standing here, in his home, unannounced. Dream pictured a clear sense of guilt on the way George would’ve appeared, eyes that would try to run away. However, George leans tall against the door frame, arm crossed against his chest. He looks almost as worn out as Dream is but there’s something on his face that unveils another type of fatigue. He doesn’t like that one bit. Not for himself, even less for George.

“I’m tired of you leaving for days, weeks, without informing me,” George says and it’s as cold as the expression that freezes the emotions out of his eyes.

Dream tries not to open his mouth before being sure of what the appropriate answer is. The silence is heavy and unsolicited, charged with the things that can’t be put into words. He tries his hardest to keep the confidence he always wears as a protection but it’s so hard when George comes into the equation, especially when the situation is accompanied by regrets.

“So that’s why you came all the way to Florida?” Dream scoffs. Right now, sarcasm is the only thing he can afford. He thought George would be the one trying to run away from the confrontation, but he’s the only one trying to cut down the conversation. He wishes he didn’t have to take that path, it’s nothing George deserves.

“Don’t make it sound like it’s not enough of a reason.” George sighs.

Dream avoids the eye contact by locking his gaze on the flames that are dancing in front of him. The stone is cold, too cold for the fire to provide enough warmth to counter it. The truth is far hidden in a complexity that can never be untangled.

“So where were you this time?” George continues, getting closer to his friend until he seats next to him. It feels like he shouldn’t, Dream wishes he didn’t.

“In Italy.” He tries not to wince by pinching his lips together when he realizes lying would have been a far better tactic to spare his companion.

George's hand reaches his head. It’s almost a desperate attempt to find a reasoning. Dream watches from the corner of his eyes the tortured mind that tries to make everything make sense in a puzzle that’s missing a few pieces.

“In Italy.” George repeats, raising a brow that makes his eyes more rounded. The fire intensifies in the chimney. It lurches dangerously. George’s tone gets more ardent. It’s still calm, as you would expect from George, but it’s loaded with resentments. “So you preferred traveling to my continent instead of asking me?”

George is waiting for an answer, eyes that won’t quiver away from the sorcerer. I just want to protect you are the words stuck on Dream’s tongue. Instead of letting them die in the air, he watches the flames that keep getting stronger and stronger. He wonders if the whole place is about to catch on fire. It would almost be fine, the words are more violent than the flames; too brutally accurate, too much of a revelation.

“I actually can't believe you right now,” George adds while shaking his head. There’s really nothing Dream can do about it. He lets the silence carry the message.

When George speaks again, his voice is back to its normal calmness.

“You’re making me one very useless familiar Clay, are you aware of that?”

He knows how to use Dream’s name as a weapon and it chimes in his brain so loudly it’s close to unbearable. But Dreams is oh too fucking aware of it. His cheeks are flushing with a glimpse of shame. Nothing bad must ever happen to George. That's why George role as a familiar is so complex. How is he even supposed to express that? Words are too far from reality, never precise enough. There’s no guideline for how to act when you want to protect someone so badly. There should be.

“I know,” he simply mutters because there’s nothing more to say. “I’m sorry.”

The fire is back to a more steady state. It crackles, pops lightly and George opens his hands to suck the warmth in his palm before rubbing them together. He doesn’t look that angry under the dull light. His dark hair are sweetly ruffled and his eyes are as soft as they’ve always been.

“Y/n has been looking for you too,” George says. “They’re worried too.”

“I know. It’s for them that I’ve been gone,” Dream explains.

“Yeah?” George hums and Dream follows the song. It seems like it was enough of an explanation for George to put his attention back on him.

“I’ve been looking for this book I talked to you about and it happened to be in Italy.” Dream says, pointing at the book that is laying on the kitchen table.

“Why would it be in Italy,” George asks as his brows furrow and he leans his head on the side.

“I don’t really know but it’s so old it probably visited a lot of places before,” Dream exhales.

“What were the chances for you to actually find it?” George questions.

“Very few, I guess I’ve been very lucky,” Dream answers while detailing the book from afar.

George gets up, his steps aren't as sure as they were a couple of minutes ago, creaking on his way. His fingers wrap carefully around the book and he describes it. It looks practically untouched considering how old it is. Its previous owners must have kept it with great care. The emerald colored cover isn’t displaying any title and when George finally opens it, the golden pages are adorned with rounds and organic letters; it was handwritten.

“You’re never lucky, Dream. It’s never luck with you,” George says as he lightly shakes his head.

“Well, believe me on that one; it was pure luck.”

It’s not something you would have expected to do in your life, yet you take this spell in an almost solemn way. The room is dark, only illuminated by candles you placed in corners of the room. The obscurity is almost reassuring that you’re doing this with enough respect for the sorcerer.

You drew a circle of sea salt and lit up some incent. The smell is strong, not far from heady. You placed two candles inside the circle; a black one in which you carved Corpse’s name and a white one in which you carved your own. Now, all you had to do was tie the two candles together with a string that would represent your bond and light the two candles until the tie would come undone, until this connection would come undone. Consumed by the fire.

That’s what Corpse said. It feels a little bitter for some reason but since nothing seems to be making any sort of sense, maybe it’s time to just let it go.

So, as the string curls around you and Corpse, you set your intention; I wish for my mind to know peace again. I wish for my mind to be spared of Corpse’s name. I wish for our sense deprived bind to stop being. You light up the two candle and patiently wait for the string to burn away.

The flames are captivating your attention. They are strong, almost unnaturally tall but mesmerizing as they melt down the wax and shrink the candle in size.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer," you whisper.

The moment lasts so long you have no idea how long just passed. Yet your gaze misses none of the spectacle. A glimpse of confusion crosses your face when the two flames are close enough to set the string on fire but can’t seem to actually do it. You brush it off until the flames are about to go out and the string is still spared. It won’t burn down. The curiosity gets validated when the remaining wax no longer provides any source of light. It’s done, or at least it should have been. So why is the bond still intact?

☾ A/N : So last chapter I said the next ones wouldn't be angsty but??? guess I kinda lied?? This wasn't the chapter I planned on writing at all (realized that 3k deep into what I was writing lol) but I thought we needed a bit of magic before moving on. Also I feel like I should mention that the spell is a real one and that you shouldn't do it until you understand the consequences of it. 💘DNF💘 now that we got this out of the way,, don't you feel like familiar Gogy and familiar Sykkuno are giving off the same energy?? idk I'm just too invested now but I'm excited to know what you thought of it anyway! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : dm me or ask me to get tagged :

@open-minded-chip-101 ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy ; @bizarrebibitch ; @bellomi-clarke ; @ladybismuth ; @katyasrussianaccent ; @satanhauntedourcats ; @owl-llie ; @teenloves ; @notannis ; @mcntsee ; @rottenroyalebooks ; @peachdoppi ; @mirahg ; @foxxtrot-116 ; @koi-soi ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ; @imsuchtrashhelp ; @clubfairy ; @boiled-onionrings ; @thatlonelyalto ; @thatsouthernblondewiththeass ; @tiaamberxx ; @thesecretwriterblog ; @takoyakiuchiha ; @danielle143 ;

#Corpse Husband #Corpse Husband x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x you #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse x you #Corpse Husband fic #Corpse Husband imagine #corpse husband scenario #corpse husband AU #the sorcerer

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captain-barnes-writes · 3 years

Text

Mafioso

Summary: Mob boss Bucky Barnes enjoys his vacation in Colombia in more ways than one.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Latina

Warning: Language, mafia, maybe a little dark?, age gap, daddy kink (or should I say papi kink😏), unprotected sex. Smutttttt—18+

[one-shot with possibility of a second part...]

NOT PROOFREAD.

Word Count: 5.9k

The thick air under the Colombian night sky had made James Buchanan Barnes break out into a slight sweat. Trickles of perspiration stuck to his forehead and his perfectly combed hair was starting to falter under the South American hot breeze. There was something in the air that night, the air so warm it even made someone like him, someone of his stature, want to wear a pair of shorts and a tank top. He’d pushed aside those thoughts though and opted for a dark ensemble that for the first time in a long time didn’t include a suit. He put the choice on the weather, but knew it was a mere excuse to a much needed laxed relaxation--his muscular frame donned a fitted midnight blue polo and expensive black chinos. A pure gold chain with a thick round pendant hung from his neck. Despite the somewhat more relaxed clothing choice, it still spoke greatly for the person he was, for the power he bore in his hands. He was away from New York, away from his many enemies, yet despite that he couldn’t let his guard down even while in a beautiful place like Medellin, Colombia.

He was a mafioso. Leader of a renowned and feared mafia, James, or as many of his closest confidants called him Bucky, was powerful beyond measure. One of the most remarkable features of the feared man was the way his dark profession didn’t at all really relate to the way he looked. With sharp blue eyes and dull clementine lips, Bucky stood over six feet tall and oftentimes used his honeyed voice to get his way. It was a shrill contrast to the person he truly was with his enemies, or those he was not familiar with, a booming menace with toneless manners and gestures. A darkened soul.

More often than not, he would not be recognized or even thought to be a huge asset of organized crime. He was too handsome, too respectful and was a masked businessman to the public but a true bandit underneath. The way he looked and the way dressed so professionally and gallantly with perfectly tailored dark expensive suits and shiny black leather shoes was his greatest disguise. Unbeknownst to whoever that he carried a sharp blade and fully loaded gun with him at all times.

The work was tiresome, physically and emotionally draining. For a man who was so often toneless in the way he spoke of death, in the way he so often wished it and caused it on others, and emotionless with tragedies, he was still a person beneath all the darkness—all the guns and all the violence. Upon a tormenting year filled with too much bloodshed, he’d decided to take some much needed time for himself in a place where there’d been similar violence and crime to that which he was partially responsible for back in the states, but still felt like a secluded place away from absolutely everything. With his turf being monitored by those he trusted most, to some extent he felt free.

For Bucky, Colombia had felt like an excellent choice upon making it and planning the trip to the t a few weeks prior. It’d taken so long to arrange in order to leave things in place and to choose those who were best skilled for the arduous job that was keeping order to such an unbalanced thing that was the mafia. He’d lied about his whereabouts to many, not wanting to compromise everything he’d worked so hard for.

Now Bucky was in the city of Medellin—rich in culture, food and most importantly filled with women. It had barely been his first day and he’d already eyed far too many beautiful women with their dark features and alluring accents. It was nighttime, past 9 pm and he’d just taken a seat under an umbrella-ladden table with a few of his many bodyguards. They were brooding and menacing figures in dark attire. They were simply doing their job, but Bucky wished they’d take it down a notch especially in a bar where nobody knew who he was and what he stood for. Though he couldn’t say that to them because letting his guard down meant showing weakness and he couldn’t have that. Not now, not ever.

The vibrant graffiti art on the rustic building the restaurant and bar was situated at went so well with the multicolor knitted flag garland that stretched from one side to the other. The twinkling yellow lights illuminating the beautiful scene before him; people dancing, foreign and natives of the land. Hands joined at the hip, on the shoulders, bodies moving one way to the other and faces etched with a liberating kind of happiness. It was a fresh spectacle he hadn’t witnessed in far too long.

The country that had birthed magical realism and the rhythm and sound of cumbia was lit with shining bulbs and people whose bliss was of no comparison and it was slightly, just slightly, rubbing off on him when he found himself with a small smile. The people dancing before him were in their own little world as the unfamiliar music emanated moves from them that he knew he probably wouldn’t be able to replicate.

And then there was her. A gleaming light of a woman with tan skin that glowed underneath the superficial lighting. Her face seemed to be in such a deep concentration that didn’t seem to emanate from stress or from taking on a hard task, but at the simple task of dancing.

She was the epitome of magic in his eyes—a Colombian who bore beauty so devastating it had dried his mouth. The tan skin, dark flowing tresses that reached her lower back and dusky inviting eyes. A charmeuse emerald green dress with a blood orange floral print design clung effortlessly to her body and much to his pleasure, the frill hem of the dress ended just above the middle of her smooth thighs. The radiant energy that emanated from her was more than Bucky could even imagine; she was more than he could even have imagined. Not that he had before. Compared to all the women he’d encountered during the last few hours he’d been on the foreign soil she took all the medals with her. She took absolutely everything and he wasn’t even near her, hadn’t even touched her, or felt the delicate skin of her neck or even felt the glossy lips that he felt desperate to take a hold of.

Her hips were shaking side to side, tips of her toes translating the music that she so deeply felt. Her bones were burning with the sound of her native music, the sound of Cumbia. Se me perdió la Cadenita’s tune playing in the background as the movements of her hips followed every beat far too perfectly.

She was dancing alone unlike the many people that surrounded the large dancefloor who had their partners. Many times, She found herself in this bar in the famous little plaza of Medellin. Frequented by locals and non-locals alike, it was always a party. The ambiance was a delicacy, the drinks were great and the music never missed.

Today, for the first time ever, she found herself arriving at the bar alone due to her friend ditching her for last-minute plans with her boyfriend. She understood, but still wanted to come out on her own for a much needed distraction because work had been hectic and her personal life was even worse. Drinks and a good sweat-inducing dance always did the trick. Just this time she’d have to dance with herself.

Or maybe not.

Y/N felt heavy cerulean eyes burning holes on her back. She’d peeked once or twice and was well aware of the handsome, well-dressed man sitting amongst a group of menacing looking men whom she could tell were most likely white. He was too, and while she wasn’t particularly attracted to white men, he was something else. Had a little kick, a little spice and how did she even know that? She didn’t, but the man was in Colombia so she’d deduced that he had good taste so far. Blue eyes, she’d noticed, short dark tendrils neatly combed and a trimmed beard. It wasn’t until she’d gotten lost in her own thoughts that her eyes lost sight of the alluring man and a flick of disappointment shot through her.

With a scoff, all her movements had come to a halt and she made her way to the bar area to get herself yet another drink. She’d had two so far and already felt the alcohol contents doing their godforsaken job, alleviating the stress from her shoulders,soothing her wracking brain and letting her have a form of tranquil fun. She wasn’t the best drinker and knew that two more drinks and she’d probably have blurry vision and slurred speech. Consumed in her own thoughts, she suddenly heard the bartender ask what she wished to order.

“Un mojito de aguardiente.” She responded.

“Yo tambien.” Me too. A voice chimed next to her. Strong and laced with a very thick accent that had almost made the words incoherent to any ear. It was the polo-clad man who’d been gawking at her from his table just a mere few minutes ago and now he was standing right next to her. He was so close, the skin of their arms were brushing against each other; she thought of how he felt so warm.

“Good choice.” She commented, eyes trailing up to meet his. An abyssal of blazing blue with a glint of mischief and many things she could not make of stared back at her. The crinkles at the end of his eyes came to shape as he offered her a small nod and smile. He was slightly taken aback at the way the English words slipped past the plumpness of her lips, slightly thick but still more than understandable. Far better than his Spanish.

“We both ordered the same thing so I think we both have great taste.” Bucky with all his influence and overwhelming power was overcome with a yearning for the woman beside him and felt as if he’d become prey to her. But he knew far too well that despite the confidence she so easily oozed and the way she had him almost salivating, she was the victim here. It would never be him.

When the bartender came back with both drinks, Bucky had immediately placed a one hundred dollar bill on his hand, paying for both drinks despite her protest, and told him to keep the change. The man’s face beamed and proceeded to thank him profusely to which he waved him off with nonchalance because to him a bill of such value was simple pocket change.

“You didn’t have to pay for me, really.” The woman pleaded, thick brows furrowed as she fumbled to get money from her purse. Bucky was amused as he placed his hand on her arm trying to stop her movements and at the sudden touch, her head snapped to look at him. It was then when her lips were agape with wide brown eyes that he thought she looked so young, and concluded that she was most likely in her early 20s. He became even more curious, pining to know little details about her.

“It was nothing. Just tell me your name, that’ll be enough.”

It was nothing. At this, she became a little nervous. She couldn’t deny he was really easy on the eyes, even that was an understatement, he was as handsome as men came. With the crisp and costly clothes he wore along with the heavy gold chain that adorned his chest and not to mention the fact that he had just carelessly spent 100 dollars on two drinks that couldn’t have cost more than twenty. And the burly men clad in black who stood at the far back of the large bar just staring at them, at him, not letting him out of their sight as if their lives depended on the very man himself. It warned her that he was a man of money and even the way he carried himself spoke of the probable immense power he held.

With a voice that faltered, accent heavy she responded with her name.

“Y/N.” He tried it, weighed it on his tongue and savored it because it complemented her so well. Said it loud so she could hear him and she did, becoming just a tad flustered as she opened her mouth and closed it again. No sound coming out.

“Such a pretty name, darling.” His honeyed voice caused a flutter in her stomach, but she put it on the alcohol and not at the way the nickname sounded too good coming from him. She felt flushed, and at the sensation that her face had become hot she placed her drink down and put her cooled hands on her cheeks. It was embarrassing that she’d become such a mess in front of him and to try to distract him from this she asked for his name too.

“Bucky.” He replied.

“Never heard of that name before...maybe just because I’m from here, um but is it short for something?”

Just like she had paused earlier when he asked for her name, he became slightly agitated too. He took a large sip of the drink, the aguardiente was a tad powerful but the anise accents mixed with lemon and mint were comforting and gave way to a refreshing taste. He turned his face to look at her after a few seconds, having mulled over the meek possibility of the girl recognizing him, elbows propped on the wooden bar counter.

“It’s just a nickname.” He finally succumbed to the way her doe eyes waited for an answer, but he’d lied to her face. It was actually short for Buchanan. Instead he would give her his first name, a simple name. He wished so ardently that she’d be moaning it in no time.

“My name is James.”

“Oh.” Was all that came from the beauty beside him as she sipped her drink. She didn’t seem to hiss at the alcohol and he deduced that she probably drank it quite often.

“How old are you?” Bucky enquired after she’d grown silent, seemingly too interested in the drink that was more than halfway gone. She’d had such confidence earlier on the dance floor, with hips that weaved and swung to the rhythm of the music and her face expression had been so jaunty. Carefree and relaxed. Now in his presence she seemed quite shy. He wondered why she’d taken on this form now, he didn’t think of himself as being too pushy. At least not now because there was no need, she was compliant enough. He only showed that harsh edge when necessary.

“22.” She uttered. He’d been right, she was in her early 20s. God, she was so young and he was already pushing 40. The age should’ve had him walking away, but he wasn’t at the thought of being between her pretty thighs savoring her, tasting her. He wanted to teach her a few things only men his age knew. Taking one last sip of her drink before placing it on the counter. Her waves cascading down to her lower back slightly moved as she yet again twisted to gaze up at him with burnt sienna eyes. She was sensual without even meaning to and he felt his pants tightening.

She adjusted her feet, feeling a slight ache at standing with the bronze pumps and placed a hand on her hip. The plunging neckline of the dress was enticing him. Smooth skin peeking at the bright material that complemented her far too well as if it was made just for her. He himself had just finished his drink as well, placed it on the counter and moved to adjust his pants. The pressure was becoming uncomfortable. He’d moved his gaze away from her to look at his surroundings, a mere habit of his. It was then that her eyes trailed to his hands and that the sleek black object caught her eyes. She stared intently, feeling herself more agitated, and the black metal gleamed as if to alarm her. She let out a small gasp and averted her eyes to look anywhere else, but him

She was panicking at being in such close proximity to a deadly weapon. It was normal to carry a gun and sometimes it did seem as a necessity to ward off danger, but it didn’t ease the discomfort Y/N felt. She placed a hand on her chest while placing the other on the counter and taking a deep breath. She was having an internal battle, one side was chastising her for judging Bucky for the simple act of carrying a gun while the other side was pleading with her to get away.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He whispered so softly in her ear suddenly. Hot breath fanning on her side of her face and goosebumps arising on her skin. She stuttered, not even coming up with a coherent thing to say. His hand found its way to hers, gripping it, and bringing it up to place his lips on it. His eyes ablaze that she felt them burning holes on her forcing her to yet again meet them.

“Come on, darling.” He hummed, waiting for a response. Her hand was still entwined with his but now he was just holding it at his side, not letting go. His other hand had fallen to the waistline of his dark chinos, the sleek object coming to view. Her breath hitched and she felt as if she was speechless. Had he done that on purpose? To show her that he had the upper hand and that she had no choice but to say yes.

In the most twisted way the one thing she was holding onto was the deep rasp and slowness of his voice and the mere invitation to leave with him had allowed a current of heat creep to her stomach, a pooling sensation in between her legs. She yet again put it on the alcohol because had she been completely sober she would’ve escaped already.

She blinked at him, words continuing to fail her. Bucky was growing impatient at the girl before him who seemed to be fighting with herself. He knew she’d seen the pistol hidden inside the waistband of his pants, but he didn’t even want to hurt her. Not like that anyway.

“It’s a gun, just for protection. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He defended.

She remained quiet and at the sound of no response, he let go of her hand and took hold of her face with both his hands. Gripping it, he brought his lips to hers in a forceful kiss. Her lips tasted like lemon and alcohol, so warm and soft he already felt addicted. She didn’t respond at first, her dainty hands coming up to grab the bottom of his arms to try to let go but it was no use because Bucky was far stronger. When his teeth lightly took hold of her bottom lip, she inadvertently let out a small moan. It was her first reaction and it had him wanting more. Groaning, he pulled away. Eyes filled with so much lust he thought it would seep out of him.

“Shit, come on.” His head turned to his men, signaling them it was time to go. She was going to come with him, she had to. He wanted her to grip the sheets of his bed tonight, bury her head in his pillows and moan his name. He gripped her hand again, dragging the girl through the exit of the bar. She wasn’t fighting, just struggling behind him with her bronze pumps.

In seconds, she was inside a sleek car with the engine revving and Bucky cruising through the Medellin streets. From her quietness, posture and the way her dainty hands fiddled on her lap Bucky deduced that she either didn’t do this often or at all.

In a haze, Y/N wondered what he did for a living. He had an expensive rental, donned tailored clothing of fine quality and had bodyguards for protection. They were trailing behind him in different cars, one in front and one at the back. With one hand on the steering wheel, Bucky rubbed soft circles on her thigh with the other . Her skin was smooth and it dawned on him than in no less than 5 minutes he’d get to have the woman next to him at his disposal. Completely naked and at his mercy. At the thought, he hardened.

“Touch me.” He commanded, voice laced with a yearning need it felt as if it was eating him alive.

“What?” Y/N sputtered, brown eyes growing wide. She wasn’t inexperienced, but this was a man far older than she’d ever been with. He seemed to be nearing his 40s with his fluffy locks already showing signs of graying. And she was still slightly scared that on the other side of his hip was a gun.

“Stop thinking about it. I said it’s not to hurt you.” He sounded slightly peeved, voice sounding a bit rough. He’d caught her eyeing his hip where his gun was. She nodded while taking a deep breath. She knew perfectly well what he wanted, her hands on him. With shaky hands, she began to unzip his pants and though he had groaned at the small action he stopped her with his hand.

“Just through the pants, baby. We’re almost at the hotel.” She blinked, pressing her hands to the prominent bulge on his black chinos. She began palming him through the thick fabric, feeling the ridges of his erection and she shameless bit her lip at the feel, at how big he felt. Through long lashes, she ogled at the man before her. Ruggedly handsome beyond words with a strong build she knew she’d be left aching. Even though she still felt remnants of uncertainty, she mostly felt a deep gust of excitement building within her.

Bucky’s mouth was watering at the actions of the young girl beside him, her small hand touching him in the most sensual way. And it felt like a huge step forward with her hands on him, but he also felt her lingering gaze. It prompted him to remove his hand from her thigh and accelerate on the roads he was not even familiar with but the need to get to his hotel was one of his top priorities. It was silent for the most part besides a few jagged groans that emanated from his chest at the way she was still touching him. It almost pained him to not be buried inside her yet. God, he just knew she'd be tight and sweet.

When they did arrive at the towering hotel building, he’d leaned over and wrapped her up in a sweltering kiss before he had her hand in his hand waltzing through the lobby and into the elevator. The tension was thick and he’d managed to get his hands on her waist pulling her closer to him. He knew better than to try anything on the elevator especially not with his bodyguards in tow.

With his key card already in hand, once in front of his suite, he hastily swiped it and dragged her inside. With a sigh of relief he pushed her against the door, shutting it. In a change of roles, she was the one grabbing at the collar of his polo and pulling him in her to crash their lips together. It was sexy in the nastiest way possible--mouths engulfing each other, him biting her lips, sucking on them and her fitting her tongue inside his mouth. It was sloppy and brought a wave of satisfaction, it just wasn’t enough.

With greedy hands he groped her ass, massaging the roundness through the soft charmeuse material of her dress before he lifted it up through her body forcing them to pull away in order to fully remove the dress. Once it had come off, he threw it in a heap on the floor and savored the girl in front of him. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed and her hair already in disarray she looked just about ready to take him. He could have just come at the sight of her with the pretty white lace set she sported. So tiny it barely covered anything.

“Look at you baby. You look so pretty, ready to take me huh?” He’d lifted her into his arms ushering her to wrap her tanned legs around him while his hands held the fullness of her bottom. She hated that he was fully dressed. She wanted to feel him against her, wanted to see the toned muscles of his torso and touch the bulge she’d had her hands just a few minutes prior, just this time without the thick material of his chinos.

She nodded at his question as a small yes fled from her lips when he brought their lips together again in another needy kiss. This time, he maneuvered through the large hotel room and finally dropped her on his bed. He’d stayed on his feet, removing his shirt and revealing his taut and strong chest.

“You look so good, Bucky” She hadn’t meant for her English to sound so thick, not only laced with a deep onset of lust but with complete delight at the sight of him. She blushed at the way she’d sounded, but he loved it. Loved the way his name fell from her swollen lips.

With a bite of his lip, he watched as her expression went from that of need to one filled with fear as he removed the gun from the waistband of his pants. The dark metal in his hand the only thing her eyes were focused on. He was amused at the innocence she carried. Even in a country like Colombia where crime and death rates were one of the highest back in the day because of people like him, she’d managed to keep that angelic essence. He admired her refusal to let go of it.

“I told you this is only for protection, baby. The only thing that’s gonna hurt you is this dick.” He was half joking, gun still gripped in his hand he walked around the side of the bed to place it on the white nightstand. It seemed as if even that wasn’t enough for her so with a roll of his deep blue eyes, he decided it was best he placed it inside the nightstand drawer. Sure, he had better access and more maneuver to reach for it if it was on top, but he wanted to fuck her so bad and wanted her to enjoy it not have a gun be the reason she couldn’t get wet over him.

She swallowed, a little more calm as she saw the weapon safely stored inside the drawer and offered him a timid smile. He chuckled at her newfound expression and felt the same yearning bubble up again. Desperate to feel her skin on him, he unbuckled his pants in a haste and threw them carelessly on the floor. If he wasn’t so damn hard to the point it pained him, he would’ve had her remove the pants with her small hands. Another time, he thought.

He climbed on top of her, expectant doe eyes staring back at him when his face prodded down at her. She reached her soft hands to touch his face and used it to pull his face towards hers. Lips meeting in a desperate kiss as if starved of human touch; so eager, so needy. His hands didn’t waste time exploring her body. They wanted to be everywhere at once, her breasts, her thighs and the sweet place between her thighs. For the time being, he’d stopped at the swell of her breasts, pushing down the thin lace cups and rubbing her perky brown nipples slowly. Fingers trailing on the smoothness of her areolas had turned to kneading. His lips had parted from hers and trailed down to the sensitive skin of her neck and made sure to take the skin between his lips. Sucking and biting at the skin until blood had risen leaving behind deep purple marks that looked rather painful. She was a withering mess underneath him, soft little moans falling from her swollen lips and thighs widening.

She was so compliant especially when he’d patted her thigh and she’d opened up to him without a single word. His fingers had grasped at the thin lace material of her panties too roughly and it had ripped. Y/N yelped and he didn’t know what to make of her face expression whether it was anger or disappointment that had shown, but he promised her he’d buy her more. Expensive lace just for his pretty girl.

Without waiting for a response, 2 fingers had slowly delved into her cunt. Long fingers forming a slow and torturous rhythm that had her wanting more. If this was his way of making her talk then he was on right track as her little whines grew the more he kept the same pace

“Faster.” Y/N pleaded, hands grasping at the sheets below her. He felt himself gloat as her soft voice egged him on, finally voicing out her needs. He’d given in, fingers pumping in and out of her in briskness all while loving the little sinful moans that she gave out. Within seconds, his tongue had taken place of his fingers licking a long patch of her pretty pussy before he brought them back inside her. Her cunt was soaking wet with her juices and she was so damn sweet. His tongue was swirling against her clit, a move that had her body shuddering in the process. His fingers continued their pace inside her while his tongue drew long licks on her little petal, sucking and swirling that within seconds she’d gripped his hair tightly and came without warning. She’d come right on his fingers, room filling with the sound of her cries. When he withdrew his fingers, glistening and sticky with her unbelievably sweet nectar, he licked a long stripe against her before coming up for air. He looked wildly erotic—hair unruly and mouth wet with the fruits of her orgasm.

When Bucky climbed his way back on top of her, she was breathing so hard her chest was heaving up and down, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, meanwhile her eyes were fluttering in the aftermath of her orgasm.

“Open your mouth.” Bucky ordered, voice laced with desire as he stared at the mess of a girl. Her brown eyes fluttered open again and with a bite of her lip, she opened her lips wide for him. Almost immediately his fingers were inside her mouth. He wanted her to taste herself, to taste how delicious she was.

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. You like it? Like the way you taste?” God, he sounded so sexy. She hadn’t expected him to be such a talker, but he was making her skin tingle with just the sound of his voice and with the things he spewed out during their sinful acts. She moaned with his fingers in her mouth and gave a slight shake of her head to let him know that yes, she tasted damn sweet but that she was sure he tasted even better. At this thought, she grabbed hold of his arm and pushed his fingers out. Taking charge for the first time that night, she pushed him on his back. His olive skin meeting the black silk of his sheets.

Mischievous burnt sienna eyes peered up at him as she removed his boxers causing the thick bulge to spring out. He was so big and thick in her hands, and she thought of how much discomfort the stretch would be just taking him.

She tried to focus on the task at hand, dainty hand wrapping around the thick shaft moving up and down. He was groaning above, husky and loud. It drove her hand to move faster against him, a line of precum already seeping from the swollen head. It was so enticing seeing the milky substance leaking from him that her head bowed and lips wrapped around the very tip. Tongue swirling against the tiny hole before she sucked it savoring the salty taste of him. She began to bob her head down the thickness of his cock, unable to take him all but making sure what she couldn’t take her hand would. He was just so damn big, she wanted to take him all but when he hit the back of her throat her eyes had watered and her throat hadn’t allowed more to fit in. But he seemed satisfied as his hand tangled itself in hair, urging her to keep the same momentum. Her red lips sucking him , coating him in her saliva. Almost too soon, he’d pulled her off him and pushed her on top of him. Swollen lips meeting in the middle, fervent and needy. She tasted like him but he didn’t care.

She wrapped her hand around his shaft again, pumping him once more before she lined up to her entrance. She pushed herself down slowly, taking him inside her warmth. It was an uncomfortable stretch, the dull ache clear on her face as she grimaced. She took her time, barely moving for a good few seconds before she felt his hands on her hips. Kneading the soft skin there, almost as if pleading for her to move. With the tips of her feet on both sides of him, she began a slow up and down movement. He watched as her pussy devoured his dick, disappearing inside her.

Her breathy moans, shaky feet and slow movements were driving him wild. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed. Bucky’s hips had began bucking up, fucking into her desperate to feel more of her tightness. It wasn’t long before he’d taken the reigns again and her body was shaking above him, helplessly taking the deep thrusts.

“Fuck, that’s my good girl. Your tight pussy can take this dick right, baby girl?”

“Si papi.” Bucky’s ears had perked up at the naughty words. She’d called him daddy in Spanish and it had his dick twitching inside her. He could just cum at the sound of that word.

“Shit, call me that again baby girl.” He pleaded, breathing loud as his thrusts continued to piston inside her before he came to a momentary pause. He pushed her body backwards, her back hitting the silk sheets with a small thud. He lined himself at her wet pussy and drove forward again, feeling her tightness engulf him.

“Fuck me papi. Fuck me hard.” She was driving him wild with her velvety voice and the vice grip her cunt had him in. He began with full rough thrusts, the sound of skin slapping filling the large hotel room. Her breasts were bouncing before him, gaining the attention of his lips and his mouth wrapped around her nipple before he gazed at her neck. Ladened with purple marks from his mouth, he wrapped his large hand around it. He’d taken her aback, eyes rolling as her breathing was slightly restricted. He was still fucking her to the brink of insanity and with the added pressure on her neck, she felt the familiar heat building within her stomach, balling up in a crazed manner. He pushed himself inside her with need, wanting her to break apart in front of him so he could follow suit with his own pent up orgasm.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming.” She yelped, voice hoarse with his grip on her neck. She was spasming underneath, tears rolling down her reddened cheeks as she felt the wave of ecstasy shake through her. Her cunt had tightened around his dick, still moving inside her, but the constriction had unexpectedly gotten him to the edge too. He felt himself come with hot spurts inside her, a loud groan slipping past his lips. His stomach shuddered, heaving heavily. He felt as if she’d milked him of all he had.

She grimaced when he pushed himself from her and collapsed beside her. She was spent, sore limbs and a terrible ache between her thighs she knew she’d be spending the night. There was no way she’d make it home without falling asleep. She turned to look at him, and he did too , sharing drained smiles. Noticing her eyes fluttering close, he pecked her lips softly, a stark difference from the roughness of their previous acts.

“I’ll take you to buy new panties tomorrow.” Was the last thing he said, before she succumbed to sleep.

oooooof, this took me hours to write but I felt so inspired. I watched the devil all the time and I, Tonya again (the mustache really does it for me honestly, he’s so hot) and I was like lemme just write a mob bucky one-shot.

Any tips or comments, lemme know. Hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. can someone please tell me they’re as disgustingly obsessed with Lee Bodecker as I am, I’m literally burning inside. The little pouch and the PEPSI CUP. OMFGGGGG

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Text

March 1885

his body slumps against yours the ghost of a whimper can be heard.

“levi ackerman. break my legs if you have it in you, but i’ll only crawl back.” and that's all he needs. your low whisper is all that is required for him to dedicate his heart to you.

devotion.

what it does to the heart is truly despicable.

is it not?

author note :: dates will vary for chapters so pay attention to the title, i hope you enjoy i have been planning this for a while now :-) pairing :: knight!levi x princess!reader genre :: everything really, angst... hm words :: 1k warnings :: corsets mentioned just wanted to add this here in case of body image issues etc

limited honour contents page (check to read in the correct chapter order !!!)

Your undying hatred for the colour green may just become the death of you.

The walls of your bedroom have forever been accented in it, the drapes which frame your windows are the same irritably murky shade.

The Palace gardens aren't home to much life meaning all you really get to see when you longingly gaze out of your windows is the same muddy olive. You long to be let out, allowed to see if outside of these walls there's a life filled with colour.

The only time you're ever blessed with the reward of colour is at noon. Sun settling down into the ridges of the sky you're able to relish in the tangerine infused cerise. It's mind numbing to watch and you eventually discover that you're never quite able to get used to it.

"Is it really that important for me to wear makeup?" You ask, legs dangling off the plush chair you're sat on. Your mother gives you a pitiful look upon hearing your question. Much too young to be concerned with marriage, yet much too old to not care for appearances. This is only the start of a life you don't wish to live.

She doesn't respond. Her fingers instead occupy themselves with the task of fastening her corset.

Before she pulls at the ribbon the ghost of a blooming bruise catches your eyes but you don't inquire. The last time you asked she made you swear on everything in the world to not say a word. So you didn't.

The cage around her torso is still unfamiliar and you wince at the way it squeezes against her uneasily. It looks like an uncomfortable second layer of ribs - instead of providing protection it only highlights pain.

"Don't worry. I'm used to it beaut. It's like makeup, you'll get used to makeup eventually." She tries to sound convincing but you don't buy it. You're sure the corset would be easier on her waist had she not fallen off Father's horse a few weeks back. Why can't she just not wear it this once? She is injured after all.

Drawing your brows back you can't believe anyone could ever be able to grow used to whatever a corset is. Up until recently you had assumed corsets weren't all that and were pretty easy to work with but seeing one face to face is completely different.

Mother and you are silently aware of the fact it presses arduously onto her purple bruising.

"It feels wrong." You finally say out loud.

“It feels wrong that you have to wear a cors-” She cuts you off before you can finish.

“Silence.” Voice unyielding and slightly irked you second guess wanting to voice your opinion out again.

But you’ve forever been stubborn and instead of retiring you match her pace cutting her off in the same fashion as she did you.

“Intoler-”

"And the makeup. It feels heavy and I don't like it. I think I look funny. My lips are far too red. This feels ridiculous. Can’t I make my own choices?"

Your mother says your name firm and fixed in simmering anger.

“I may be your mother, despite that I am still your Queen.” A hand is slammed down onto your vanity, flinching you aren’t able to move away in time — she’s thrown the book you were just reading away to the floor, allowing for the pages to bend uncomfortably.

Reaching out to grab for it again you’re held back by a firm grip on your arm. You don’t dare move another inch afraid what of what your mother is capable of doing.

Then it hits you. Shuddering you identify that the hand holding you back is smaller than your mother’s, twisting around your Knight is within view.

Eyes widening, horror fills you at his interjection he could be gravely punished for meddling in Royal affairs.

To your surprise he’s spared without a second thought.

“Levi, I forgot you were in the room. You may excuse yourself.” He can’t ignore a clear, direct order from the Queen.

The young knight looks between the two of you unsure for a second if he should depart but he understands he has no power in this situation. Even if he wants to aid you he’ll be unable to do so.

In less than a minute you hear the opening and closing of your door.

Levi has left.

"Remind yourself of your country. Our people are dying, starving from the famine." Her words are carefully chosen, she wants to leave a permanent mark on you.

"The sooner you or one of your sisters finds a marriage proposal from a neighbouring Kingdom the better off Obravia will be."

"But, makeup? What does make- Wait marriage? Right now? I've only just started my Advanced English classes and- And, Mama I'm fourteen??" Utterly flabbergasted is what you are. You know you're the youngest and it's one of your older sisters on the chopping block but it's difficult to fathom your mother is remotely okay with this prospect for any of her daughters.

Gentle expression long gone, bottom lip caught between her teeth her brows furrow. You can't tell if your possible defiance has left her breathless or if it's the work of the vice around her waist. Whatever it is you remain unwilling to meet her uncompromising stare.

"As you grow old you learn there are matters you will have no say in. Even as my youngest child you hold great responsibility within this Kingdom."

Her downturned frown twitches at your next movement.

Swiping a hand over your mouth your Mother's hard work is destroyed within seconds. The red lining of your lips completely smudged. You resemble one of the Royal Jesters.

Stupidly, you’re foolish enough to ask for what your heart yearns.

"And if I don't want to be responsible? If I want to spend my days reading books and studying? Unmarried?"

It doesn’t end well.

But when does it ever?

That night you end up leaving your chambers with even more powder and paint coating your face. It’s practically been pounded onto your cheeks without consent.

When you return from the ball you find your bookshelf empty, not a single novel in sight. Even the book she threw away has vanished.

It serves as your punishment.

Your reality check that Princesses do not receive everything they desire.

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : battle scars

— word count : 2.1 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : during a quick run, you fall into some trouble with some walkers though daryl’s love language is spoken with actions and not words.

— warnings : mentions witnessing death, near death experiencing, extremely minor cursing, mentions of blood and gore

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested 　/ requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

okay so i requested this a while ago to someone else and they said they’d write it but i never found it and i forgot who i asked so i might of missed it, but maybe a walker grabs readers hair or something so she looks for something to tie it up with and daryl gives her his bandana and she just decides to claim it or some cute shit like that??? it’s okay if you don’t wanna♥️♥️

Shap rays penetrate effortlessly through the barred windows, the tatty scraps of cloth providing little protection against the blinding morning sunshine. You pull your arm to cover your eyes, not quite ready to be released from the grips of your slumber.. the nights before a run have always been the most troublesome. Your mind running through every which way the day could turn out, pleading to your mind to focus on the positive outcomes that are always on the table of possibility. Both the positivity and negativity keeping you awake into the late hours.

The only consolation being when you were gifted the image of a blanket of stars over the dark sky, free from any light pollution that was known among many.

“ time to get your ass up, sleepy head. “

You don’t need to remove the arm that lays heavily draped across your head to know who’s familiar drawl that belongs to. Daryl Dixon. His voice in being a quite distinct quality about him. Though there’s more than that you think humorously as a smirk that lazily snakes its way onto your lips.

“ yeah, yeah. I’m up. “ you respond to him as you find yourself focusing on his form in the doorway, clutching the bed linen that serves as a makeshift door in his grip. Your mind wonders if you’ve ever seen him in a state of inactivity that held no tension .

Members of the group continue to filter into the main hall at a leisurely pace, sleep still clinging to their backs in a losing battle.

Sitting off to the side, your gaze settles to the lone male. Daryl nods from you to the space across from him, a bowl laid across from him.

“ thanks for saving me some breakfast. “ you speak, breaking the silence as you pick up the spoon and lifting a heap of oats onto it. Knowing you would need the energy, of course, the world ending brought a new meaning to breakfast being the most important meal of the day.

“ yeh, don’t need ya collapsin’ on me now. “

Amusement tugged at both corners of your mouth as you peer at him, even after all the time had passed, he still doesn’t want to show how much he cares for the people in the group. Even the newcomers from the Woobury group. Of course, you know.. you see what it means to him see everyone safe, to avoid losing yet another member of his new found family to the rotting fingers of death. The finality of death landing heavier blows on his already bruised heart over again is not something he wishes to fall victim to.

“ you know you’ll never get rid of me, I’ll haunt you from my grave! “ you say, joy lighting up your features as you chuckle, momentarily forgetting your breakfast.

A silence embeds itself comfortably between the two of you, something that becomes less and less awkward every time you find yourself in the vicinity of the man. Human contact and communication had to be quickly developed and it wasn’t long before you became comfortable chatting with everyone as if you had known them for years, but Daryl isn’t completely like those members in your group. He speaks with his actions and it took you long enough to realise that, which is why you found no awkwardness sneaking itself around your throat to force words to fall from your lips unwillingly.

“ so, where are we going first? “

“ ‘saw there was a sports store a few miles out a few days ago. they’ll have some’a those bike chains for those fences. “

Nodding in response, you understand it’s nothing more than a simple task. Though, nothing is truly simple now, even something so minor can cost you your life. The first few days you had spent up at the quarry were plagued with nightmares, every day when you saw the sun begin to dim roused a deep fear that bled into your heart, opening a deep pit in the bottom of your stomach, thinking about the rotting corpses and the frenzied deaths of those you loved. The night time cradled your worst moments, to have to close your eyes and to only be left alone with your thoughts would haunt you endlessly.

Shaking your head to yourself, you rid yourself of that dark energy clouding above you. You have dedicated a lot of time and drive to make progress, it’s not something you yearn to be thrown away as if it were nothing.

“ are we going to pick anything else up, or is it just those? “

“ nah, no use gettin’ ourselves killed. “ he responds, focusing on eating breakfast.

You nod your head swiftly, you certainly can’t argue with that logic! Knowing others have lost their lives or have been horribly injured attempting to go the extra mile.

“ well, I won’t be disagreeing with that plan. quick and simple. “

“ sounds like.. “

He lifts his line of sight to stare at you as his sentence trails off into silence, a passing moment crawling along almost uninterrupted before the realisation of what he meant erupted in your mind. He’s talking about you!

“ that’s so rude! “ you say with wide eyes, creasing up and shaking with laughter.

“ I ain’t wrong. “

Even Daryl begins to ease up and chuckle to himself, a small part of him had been cowering in the corner thinking that his words may have been too offensive, even for you. But seeing the sparkle in your eyes as you find amusement is enough to banish it permanently.

The two of you leave the confines of the prison, your arms are locked around his midsection as you are settled behind him on the motorcycle. The speed of it hit a steady pace, the scenery around you nothing more than passing blurs merging into a melting pot of Earth tones.

Slowing to a stop, the two of you get off the bike and make your way into the abandoned store, your eyes scan it in its entirety. Confidence fills you in the thought that it is older than you and definitely had seen better days. Dirt and grime lined the structure from the bottom, sliding up the walls to the top of it. Your brows burrow in repulsion, though surely it can’t be as bad as the prison. Or how it used to be..

“ stay back. “

You watch as he bangs a hand against the grungy window, hardly anything could be seen through the layer of dirt that had made its home there. A visual picture certainly would not be helping either of you this time.

It took around two minutes for a series of slams against the windows to startle you, your heartbeat begins to speed up slightly at the suddenness of the noise. Even when you’re expecting the arrival of walkers, they still manage to catch you off guard. The two of you nod to one another, you move to open the door for four walkers to pile out. Your attention is kept to the two who made a beeline for your body. You step backwards with your knife now in your hand, hoping to create distance between the two of them for you to be able to stab one of them.

One of them grabs your shoulders, immediately your hand goes to shove one of its away from yours. Momentarily it loses grip and trips into you, luckily your hand with the knife is faster than you realise and you feel the resistance its skull and brain give you but you’re stronger and ensure it hits the mark. The change is instantaneous, the walker descends quickly, taking you with it. All your strength and fight is dedicated to pushing the dead weight off of you, your arms make progress as it falls next to you with a thud.

Scrambling to the space next to you to retrieve the knife still sleeping snugly within its head, your breath is ragged from the physical exhaustion and stress of the situation. Your eyes are wide with fear and it takes more strength than you realise to pull it out with a sickly squelch, a darkened liquid coats the once shining blade. Though you have little time to study its form before you feel fingers clawing at your hair, the surprise causes you to drop the knife and your hands to move towards the decaying ones who have secured their grip.

Screams erupt from your lips as your fingers move upwards, pushing what you guess is the walker’s snapping mouth that feels so close. Close enough that you’re unable to distinguish if the breaths you feel close to your neck is from the walker or your imagination. Never before had you felt like a prey animal before, you’re too close to death for your liking, you’d seen people turn from being bitten and to be seconds away fills you with dread. Your fight becomes less and less by the passing second, your body is too tired to fight itself and the walker at the same time, incapacitation is becoming your reality.. warning to confront you one step at a time.

One moment all you can hear are snarls and a warm pain that shoots through the roots of your hair, the next it feels like time has stopped. The grip that was once securely locked is now absent, you don’t know where to look.. all you know is you don’t want to look behind you.

“ y’alright? “

Your sight moves upwards, squinting as you take in the face in front of you. It’s Daryl.

“ uh, I -- “ your voice breaks at the end as you reply, shock overwhelming your body. You drop your head towards the ground in disturbance, refusing to allow your emotions to spiral, you focus on a spot on the ground.

Daryl moves towards you, his gaze checking you over, though begins to search through your hair to make sure the walker has not scratched or punctured your skin with its filthy teeth. Seeing you in that state with the walker so close to dimming your light pushed him, pushed him to fight harder than he has with a few walkers. He knew he could have sent a bolt through its skull, but rage filled his entire being as it drove him. Sending him in its direction and sending a blade through it with his entire force.

“ hey, it didn’t get ya. y’hear me? it didn’t get ya. “ he says, bringing your attention back to him. Though whether it was confirmation more for his benefit or yours, he can’t tell.

“ I never even.. I knew, I.. “

“ y’ain’t got your battle scar yet. “

“ not with you around, luckily. “ you reply with a shake of your head, a soft tone is all you can muster in that minute.

Even in spite of yourself and how you feel, a light chuckle coming from you dusts the air gently as if it never occurred. Shaking your head with a smile that barely registers you push yourself onto your knees and make a move to stand. He’s there to help you up, a tender force clutches your upper arm that you almost fail to associate with him.

The both of you share the same thought unknowingly, that your entire being feels nothing but sensitivity. Shock from enduring the ordeal leaving your body made from nothing more than glass that could shatter at a moment’s notice.

“ hey.. “

A bandana is dangling in front of your vision, confused, you take it into your fingers. Your touch feels the rough material as you run your fingertips across it. Like a light bulb, understanding lights your features up with the power of a thousand suns. Your hair is gathered over to one side, collected to form something of a braid now rests over your shoulder.. with the bandana keeping it together.

“ thank you, Daryl. “ gratitude coats your words, you are extremely thankful for his intervention “ this is mine now though.. “ you inform him, a hand moving to finger the material that now has a new home in your hair.

“ yeah, y’wish. “

“ I meant what I said though, thank you. if you weren't here I’d be one of them. “ a sigh from your mouth releases, a shudder crawling its way through yourself. The shake being easily visible.

“ that ain’t ever gonna happen, I ain’t gonna let it. “

A dull smile pulls at the corners of your lips, a sadness coating your expression at his words. Moving towards him gradually, your arms slide around his midsection. Knowing that those promises can’t always be fulfilled, but that’s Daryl a thought crosses the centre of your mind. He always wants to save everyone. You barely register the light weight of two palms on your back, but a warm light grows in size within you at the realisation.

“ you can let this bandana be mine though.. my good luck charm when you’re not around. “

“ fine. “ Daryl gives in, a hint of laughter in his response as he speaks to you.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fic #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #the walking dead fic #twd fic

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