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lanabuckybarnes · 2 months

Text

Sergeant’s Got You

18+ Minors DNI

You’re stressed, he knows exactly how to make you feel better.

Note: I was asked for something like this, so it’s heavy on the love for his dog tags

Pairing: beefy Bucky (but he’s got that fatws attitude) x reader

Warnings: Dom Bucky, basically smutty right from the get go, filthy buck, he has his metal arm (I’m a slut for it), you like Bucky’s dog tags, like really like them, Petnames: sweetness, sweetheart, sweet thing, sweetie, good girl, baby, a LOT of dirty talk, sergeant kink, sir kink, oral (M receiving), unprotected p in v sex, he’s rough, degradation, feral Bucky, squirting, creampie, aftercare.

Word Count: 3.2k *insert cat HUH sound*

You were stressed beyond belief. Your mission ended up having a few more loose ends than anyone was anticipating leaving you to pick up the pieces. Now you were finally back in New York and ready to punch the next person who pats your back sympathetically with a ‘you tried’ look on their face.

Just as you were contemplating boxing the cupboard in the kitchen than wouldn’t stay open two strong arms pulled you back and into a hard body.

“You alright sweetness?” Bucky spoke into the locks of hair at the back of your ear. His cologne had you relaxing already, the fingers on his right hand hitched up your shirt to rub soothing circles over your hip bone. What really got you was the subtle grind of his hips against your ass; he was a filthy shit, you loved it when he knew what you wanted.

You flipped your body around in his arms, your fingers running up from his abs to his soft chest until they wrapped around his neck. He smirked, he knew exactly what you wanted him to do but he was a tease, you had to tell him or he wouldn’t. It’s just the way the world worked for you sweetheart.

You surged forward, desperate for a taste of the cherry lips you missed so much. You hated to admit just how much the man in front of you affected you, how often on your mission your hand snaked down your body and in-between your legs at the photos Sam sent of your lost puppy husband, his wide back and tiny waist wrapped in that blue Henley that had the arms pulled up to his forearm revealing the long veins and thick structure underneath. You needed him, now.

He pulled back just as your lips brushed his, a dark smirk and a filthy blue colour surfacing in his orbs. Fucking tease.

“You know you gotta use your words sweetheart” One of his big hands, his metal one, landed on the back of your skull, the metal thumb dancing over your bottom lip before you sucked it into your wet mouth. He growled at the innocent look you gave him as your tongue flicked over the tip before poking out and running up the underside of the shiny plates.

He pushed down, holding your tongue in place as it travelled, drool dripping from the muscle but he didn’t care, the sight of the rivulets of saliva sliding down the silver had him harder than a rock. One of the most technologically advanced pieces of handiwork and you were sucking on it like a little slut, pathetic.

He had you in his room before you could even blink, the rough slamming of the door vibrating the wall he pushed you up against.

“You’re a little slut ain’t you? Sucking on my thumb like my cock, getting your drool everywhere, you’re so lucky I don’t make you clean it up” he spoke as he hastily pulled your shirt and his off, his dog tags jangling softly as they fell back into place between his huge chest. You moved like a magpie, gripping at the shiny metal tags, giving them a squeeze, his name imprinting for a second of the fat of your palm before letting them slip between your fingers.

He watched you, ever fascinated at just how worked up you got about him, but it was your love for his dog tags that had him curious. You always, without fail slipped a finger around them, whether it was when you pulled him close for a kiss or if your slept on his chest, one of your fingers slipped itself through the chain and held them close to your hand.

He wasn’t stupid though, he could practically smell when you soaked yourself, always conveniently after his swinging tags made contact with your chin or ran up the column in your spine, the way that little pussy tightened around him when the old metal swept over your lips, tapping your teeth as you moaned out in pleasure. It made him embarrassingly weak too.

“You want me to fuck you cute girl?” He groaned into the crook of your neck, his plush lips suckling obscene dark marks downward till he reached the crevice of your breasts, your legs wrapped around him tighter as his hand grazed over your sensitive sides to the meat of your tit, gripping it softly and flicking a warm thumb over your nipple. You jerked into him at the shock of pleasure, your hand carding through his waves of hair and pulling him close as worked on the underside of your other boob.

“Words Sweetheart, I need words” He knew it wouldn’t be long till you hit that sub space, the same thing always happened when you were stressed, you needed your big Sergeant to take the wheel, use you a little bit.

“Please” fuck the whimper in your voice had him grinding up into you, the scratchy fabric of his jeans meeting the barely their material of the shorts you wore under your gear.

“Please what sweet thing?” he moved to watch the deep colour of your eyes swim with lust, eradicating any stress they once held, he was doing his job.

“Please use me Sir” you whined, fingers wrapping around the chain of his dog tags again to pull him close, finally getting that kiss you so desperately needed. His left hand cupped your cheek, rubbing a thumb over the high point softly, a sharp contrast to the bruising kiss you had going on. Teeth clashed with teeth, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he pushed closer, flicking his tongue viciously with your much weaker one, running against the top of it and sucking once it gave up it’s fight. He pulled you in again, tender with his lips this time, enclosing your swollen ones with his, his tongue running over your upper lip soothingly.

“Fuck! You’re making me go crazy” he chuckled as he moved off the wall, backing himself up to the bed till his calves hit the frame. He sat down with both of you, your body straddling him, his right hand pushing you back and forth softly on his bulge. The lust in his eyes mixed with a softness as he looked up at you, his metal hand still on your face although now his shiny forefinger and thumb hooked onto your chin, pulling you forward for a kiss, and another, and another. You whined, you didn’t want kisses and grinding, you wanted him to blow your back out, use your pretty face, anything but this.

Seeming to sense your thoughts he stopped your movements, the right hand coming up to join his left on either side of your face.

“What do you want sweetheart? You want your soldier to ruin you? I can feel how hot you are on my dick… you want it bad don’t you?” You moaned at his words, dripping filthily from his tongue, he sure had a way to fuck you up without even pulling out his cock.

“Yes, yes please. Use me” he smirked, satisfied at your whimpered begging. With a click of his tongue and a flick of his eyes he had you manoeuvring onto your knees in front of him.

He was a sight, he looked carved from marble, each bend of his body, every nook and muscle and vein delicately etched into rock solid stone to be preserved for a lifetime. His bulge strained painfully against his jeans, angrily awaiting your slender fingers offering it reprise from its tight cell. You were glad to give it just that.

Clumsily, you fiddled with the thick belt around his waist, smiling in satisfaction when the rhythmic clanks finally hit your ears. You flicked the button open and were about to pull the zip of his fly when his hand stopped you.

“With your mouth sweetness” his lip caught between his teeth, a soft blush decorated his face and chest as he watched you. Your tongue ran up the metal, the slight tang hitting your tastebuds, you flicked the little tab until sat snug between your teeth and pulled it down slowly, each tooth of the zip clicking as it finally opened.

Once you were done, Bucky pushed the thick material down his legs with a relieved sigh, letting it pool at his ankles before flicking them off with your help. His hard-on raged against the soft grey briefs, a pool of darkness lay at the head, precum soaking through.

His hands met yours, pulling them up his thighs and hooking them around the waistband of his briefs. He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling and neck craned as he watched you both inch down his underwear until it caught on his tip, he hissed as the scratchy fabric pulled over his silky head before it slapped deliciously onto his public bone and stomach.

“God” he chuckled breathlessly at the feeling of finally being free “look at you drooling all over yourself for me, you want a taste sweet thing?” His metal fingers had wrapped themselves around the fat base of his length, pushing it forward till the spongy tip hooked onto your upper lip, his salty precum smearing over it like a x-rated lip balm.

You pecked the tip of his dick, the tip of your tongue barely poking him as you did. You moved down, lips brushing against every angry vein on his cock until you met the metal of his hand in which you slowly licked a thick strip back up until you swirled your wet muscle against his head relentlessly.

“Fuck sweetheart, good girl” he groaned, head lulling back as his hips jittered off the bed softly, pushing his head into your awaiting mouth. You sucked him in greedily, selfishly inhaling his thick musky scent that had your pussy drooling against your lace panties, threatening to spill into your shorts— you didn’t doubt that if he had you naked, your essence would drip all over the wood of the floor— he’d have a field day making you clean it up.

“God you’re so good, ha— making your soldier feel so good, you like your sergeant all needy? Ready to pull you up off that floor and sink my cock into you” You moaned against his length, gagging softly when he jerked up into the back of your throat.

“Shit, Nuh uh get up here, I wanna cum in that pretty pussy, move come on” He pulled you up and off his length like you weighed nothing at all, his fingers ripping the shorts from your body and only stopping when he caught a glimpse of you’re soaked panties.

“Fuck girl, who’s got you like this hmm?” His thick thumb brushed small circles over your neglected clit. You moaned loudly, jerking off the bed with a shudder at the feeling, more of your slick pooling into your already soaked gusset.

“Mmm I can fucking smell you, smell so good baby… bet I could fuck you without prep, you want that?” He spoke, his voice deep, laced with primal lust— nothing like the composed grumpy old man everyone else saw— no, he was raw, unhinged, pupils blown wide with sexual desire. You wanted nothing more than his cock in you.

“Please Buck, just your cock I don’t care just please” you cried when he pushed particularly hard on your aching nub, your knuckles turning white as you fisted then covers beneath you; your legs shook as they threatened to close on his thick forearm, you were close already but you didn’t want to cum without him filling you out.

He gleamed at your form, fucked out, soaked and crying already— he’d barely fucking touched you— he couldn’t wait to see your face as he fucked you raw.

He ripped your panties with renewed vigour, the ruined material pulled away from your sensitive heat to hang around the your ankle that now sat over Bucky’s muscular shoulder. Your thigh quaked softly at the stretch but his cold digits ran softly against the tight muscle, soothing it for the time being.

His fat head tapped against your clit, each wet slap causing your body to twitch off the bed at the electric jolts of pleasure it sent up your spine. You could feel Bucky’s fingers circling your entrance, two of his thick fingers squishing into your tight hole as he prepped you lightly. When they left, a long line of arousal followed, connecting him to you, he growled at the sight before licking the wetness from his rough palm and middle finger.

“Mmm so sweet, if I wasn’t so fucking horny I’d make you cum all over my face… make you soak my mouth, shit” he was talking more to himself than you but you clenched around nothing at the thought, the thought of him eating you out for hours was not impossible, he’d done it before.

His thick tip drooling against your entrance pulled you from your trance, he pushed softly, hooking his head along the tight rim of your pussy as he stared up at you.

“you ready sweet thing?” He leaned over, right hand resting against the side of your head, his thumb flicking stray tears from your cheeks. You nodded softly, eyes unmoving from him, watching as his lips twitched in pleasure as his head popped into you, each inch dragging in slowly, aided by your soaked folds.

You moaned pathetically, his head running over your g-spot had you clenching around him, your orgasm hitting you quickly, your hands tightening painfully against the sheets as white hot pleasure soaked through your nerves. Everything was tingling, flashes of colour dancing over your closed eyelids.

Bucky wasn’t much better as he watched you, having to will his own orgasm down at the sight of you losing yourself over him already. You were a fucking sight to him, your tits bouncing with each sharp breath you took, mouth hung open allowing each whimper or silent scream to escape unabashedly.

“Ohh good girl, that’s it mmmm shit you’re fucking clenching me tight baby” Bucky mumbled, words falling from his lips in verbal mush, his own mind barely keeping up. When you finally came down from your high you open your eyes to look up at him, a shy little smile playing on your lips at the way he bore down at you.

“I’m so-“ you began but he pushed forward, sucking up your moan at the feeling of him hitting your cervix into his mouth.

“Don’t you dare be fucking sorry for that sweetheart, you hear? Fucking almost made me cum like a fucking teenager again, naughty girl ain’t you? I fucking love you” His hot breath panted against your lips as he growled at you, the last thing he wanted was for you to feel ashamed about the pleasure you were feeling. You blushed deeply, it was quite funny just how much his love for you made you blush, even when he was currently pushing against the deepest parts of you.

“Can I move baby?” He asked against your lips, smiling satisfyingly as you nodded before planting a wet kiss on your lips and pushing himself up.

He started slow, letting each vein pull against every nerve in your heat, his teeth clenching at just how tight you’d squeeze every time his head brushed against your sweet bundle of pleasure. His smooth pace never lasted long though, his hips jerked violently against you once he deemed you ready enough, your body slipping up across the sheets at each slam of his hips against your thighs.

He was leaning over you now, your leg pushed up between both your bodies, his dog tags clanging above your face at each jerk of his body. You reached a hand up, encircling the darkened metal, pulling on it as your body twitched with hints of a second orgasm.

“Shit! You like when my fucking tags hang over your face, fucking little slut aren’t you? You like being fucked like this? your sergeant fucking all that stress away? Mmm god, maybe I’ll put them around your neck next time hmm? Have you wear them when you’re riding me, let them fucking swing between those tits— god you’d love that” Bucky rambled, on and on, thrusts becoming sloppy as you clenched around him for the umpteenth time, only this time your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, you could feel yourself soaking Bucky’s dick and thighs— probably soaking the already destroyed sheets below you.

With one final thrust Bucky’s moan caught in this throat as he pushed himself the deepest he could go, hot cum soaking your cervix and pushing out against his length to run along your folds, mixing with your juices. His legs give out forcing himself against you even more, pulling a pained whine from you at the feeling. As your orgasms settled, your breathing slightly less laboured although still heavy, you pulled him close by his tags, kissing his blissed out face right on the lips.

“You were so good for me sweet thing, so fucking good” he praised, his metal hand running through your tangled hair, soothing your heated scalp.

He leaned back up with a groan, massaging your aching leg as he pulled it from his shoulder before slipping out of your pussy. You both moaned at the loss, your heat clenching against nothing as his cum slipped from your body in waves. He couldn’t tear his eyes from your heat, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watched intently. You giggled shyly at his intense expression, your aching legs closing softly in embarrassment much to Bucky’s dismay.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up” he smiled, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you to the bathroom. You snuck a glimpse of the sheets as he carried you, the whole area soaked in a mixture of you both.

“Oh my god” you whispered in disbelief against his head.

“What?” He replied as he set you down and began running a bath.

“The sheets are ruined, I can’t believe I did that” you eyed his naked frame from behind, his wide back flushed red but still absolutely stunning, each muscle rippling as he moved methodically, his small waist directing you to his thick globes. It was then Bucky turned to look at you, catching you ogling at his ass, he laughed when you turned quickly.

“It makes me proud when I look at those sheets, I mean who else can make you squirt like that? Fucking no one” he growled the last part against your lips giving you a quick smooch before turning the water off and lifting you both into the hot bubbled water.

His hands massaged your shoulders, working out the knots from your activities as well as any left over stress from your mission, not that there was any after he fucked it out of you.

You two sat in silence, save for the occasional sigh you let out when he hit the right spot, both savouring each other’s presence, reminiscing on the way you exhausted each other. You laugh when you remember his words.

“What? what’s got you all giggly?” he asked, nipping the skin on the nape of your neck.

“Nothing… just… were you being serious?”

“About what sweetheart?” He eyes you curiously.

“About letting me wear your dog tags” you suppress a smirk as you feel him twitch against your back, obviously your words sparking something in him.

“We’ll discuss it later” he rasped causing you to laugh out loud.

Your week had been stressful, with never ending problems and constant nagging from the higher ups to do the job but when you were in Bucky’s embrace, when you had those dog tags between your fingers or dangling over your face, everything melted away into nothingness, leaving you and Bucky alone.

So I lied mwahahahaha, I was going to post it yesterday but I love alcohol so I was drunk but here we are.

I’m a little nervous to post this one idk why.

I hope you enjoyed x

(I do not own any of the photos, credits to original owners)

#bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes imagine #mcu bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #beefy bucky smut #beefy bucky #james barnes #james buchanan barnes

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imsilay · 7 months

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à la folie

“to insanity.”

summary: You shouldn’t have been such a tempting little thing, because he was a jealous man and would want to keep you all for himself :)

not proofread sorry cus i wrote this in 2 hours or something idk. :>

word count: 2.3k (please take this as an apology)

cr: Dwisesz

König was thankful, he really was. God blessed him the most beautiful little thing in world. You. And he knew once he had you within his hand there was no going back. At first he tried to resist the temptation. You were just so young and naive. A little adorable thing who get along with everyone. He knew it would be a problem. He knew he would want to lock you in his house, or preferably chained to his bed, and keep you away from those who’d want to steal you from him. He knew his jealousy was not something he could control even if he wanted. Even when he was a little child he’d hide all his toys so other kids wouldn’t steal or break them. He’d keep them to himself and only for his playing. Even at his age he’d keep his weapons to himself, taking care of them well and not letting anyone to touch but him.

So he knew once you were his he’d want to possess every inch of you. He’d want to own every inch, no, every cell of your being. It was just his nature, it was how he grew up. Thus, he couldn’t get you out of his mind since he first felt your hands on his skin. It was a simple touch, you just had to check his wound since there was no medic around to treat that mountain of a man. Your delicate fingers helping him strip from his gear and hold his shirt up. You couldn’t help but admire how broad he was. His abs looked so hard and toned you had to bite inside your cheeks to not test it yourself. You quickly let go of his shirt letting him hold it to his chest as you focused on the task in hand. You chewed the insides of your cheeks to not make any mistakes or anything that would make him know how his body effected you. Oh, he could see that. Your cheeks flushed bright red and your pupils dilated as you try to hide your face from his predatory gaze with letting your hair fall into the sides of your face. Did you really get nervous like that from just seeing his body? Was that why your hands were shaking as you cleaned and covered his wound? It was really adorable to see you stumble and get all bashful when you gave him some aspirin for his pain.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get ladies nervous around him. His height and his body was a great effect on getting everyone scared of him which lead them to be nervous, frightened. Involuntarily intimidating people was something he couldn’t help, but he wasn’t complaining though. It always made things easier for him when he didn’t wanted to talk with anyone. It wasn’t like he didn’t wanted to, his usual behavior was cocky and energetic but only with the people he was comfortable with. And he couldn’t stop thinking about you since. Because why you weren’t scared of him the slightest, yet you were biting your delicious-looking pouty lips whenever you glanced towards him, thinking he wouldn’t notice or care, making him wonder why you were interested in him and not afraid like everyone else. Although he had tried to ignore you, your little temptations, his efforts were in vain. You successfully captured his mind, filling it with you so much that he couldn’t think anything but you.

After a few months of eyeing and sometimes flirting, you managed to break him. One night when you were about to go back to your quarters for a good sleep after your night shift, a large hand grabbed your arms and pulled you into one of the rooms. Another hand covered your mouth when you were about to scream. The room was dark and the scent lingered in was familiar, but you couldn’t make anything of it. Until the man pinned your body against the door and pressed his forehead against yours. It wasn’t because you saw his face, it was because you felt the fabric against your skin. It was Colonel. You stopped squirming once you recognized him. He pressed his lips on your forehead through his mask as he let go of your mouth. “Are you tired, Maus?” he whispered, his lips still on your forehead as he spoke. His voice was hoarse. Your heart was beating like crazy and adrenaline still rushing through your veins since he pulled you in. “Y-yeah, the night was long.” you stuttered with your slightly trembling voice. It was strange that how casual the conversation was despite your position. One of his hands came to rest on the side of your neck as the other still held your arm firmly as if he was afraid you’d leave. “You can rest in my room, i have a nice mattress.” he mumbled as his thumb stroked your pulse, feeling it increase under his touch. And just to feel your reaction to his touch was making him so fucking hard. His intentions were obvious, and he had no worries to hide it anymore. You were the one who started it anyway. You remained silent but he didn’t needed to hear your answer anyway. He already knew what you wanted and he was more than happy to oblige you. His hand on your neck found his mask and pushed it up just enough to reveal his lips. When he pressed his lips against yours he felt like he found his heaven on earth. Oh, how much he craved these delicious-looking lips. His other hand finally let go of your arm and found your hips. He lifted you up with ease and made you wrap your legs around his waist. Your arms wrapped around his neck, desperately trying to pull him more into kiss. He pressed your back against the wall ince again but this time you could feel his hard cock between your legs. When your nails dug into his nape because how feverish he was with his kiss and not letting you take a breath, he groaned into your mouth. Mistaking -actually just ignoring your pathetic attempts to push him because he didn’t wanted to let go of your lips- your action with a sign to continue he pressed his thumb to your chin, making you open your mouth enough for him to discover your sweet mouth with his tongue. The kiss evolved into a sloppy and messy one as he didn’t stop the attacks of his tongue and the grinding of his hips. You were already soaking from having him kiss you breathless and feeling his cock against your aching cunt. So once he run out of breath and let go of your lips, strings of salvia was connecting between your lips. He looked down at you, his hood fell back onto his face and masked his face again. You didn’t knew how he managed to but he found the light switch and turned the lights on, with you still in his arms whining and grinding whenever his crotch pressed against yours. “Don’t be eager, Maus.” he murmured when you whined as he placed you onto his mattress. His bed was big and comfortable fitting the colonel, unlike yours. “You will get enough of me today.” he promised. The thickness in his accent made your stomach tense. He looked like a god as he got on his knees between your legs, his bulky figure forcing your legs to spread open. You looked so tasty when you were sprawled in his bed, but you’d look delicious if you were naked. So his hands did a quick job to remove your top, unfasten your bra and nearly tore your bottoms with how eager he got to see more of you.

And there you were, on display for him and solely him. He drank up the sight in front of him, carefully tracing his fingers on your skin, from your neck to lower. His gaze was so intense and he looked so hungry for you it made you feel like a prey before a predator. So you tried to bring your knees together when his fingers got dangerously close to your crotch. His brows frowned quickly, he clicked his tongue with disapproval. “Nein, Maus. Be a good girl f’me. Keep those pretty legs open.” he stared down at you until you obliged his wish -demand- and spread your legs once again. “Braves Mädchen.” he purred as his fingers continued their path and stopped on your wetness. His thick fingers spread your folds so he could see your throbbing clit and soaking hole. “So fucking pretty.” he hissed as he palmed his cock through the fabric of his cargo pants. You gasped when the pad of his thumb started to draw slow circles on your clit. Your soft mewls only making it harder for him to hold himself back. “Feels good, ja?” he cooed when you got even wetter and whiny. The sight of you squirming just with his fingers made his heart skip a beat. He wondered how messy you’d get when he buried himself balls deep inside you. Oh, he needed that. He needed to be in that pretty cunt, he needed to feel your tight walls milking him, clinging to him for his hot cum. But he was a man aware of his size and he knew it would only hurt you if he put it in now, despite you soaking his sheets with your slick. So he slid his middle finger into your tight hole. You gasped and moaned softly when your cunt greedily sucked his finger in and wrapped around the thick digit like a glove. He could feel your walls clench around his finger and it only mad his cock throb in his pants. So he hurried to add another finger and to his surprise it went in pretty easily. “Does this pussy wants me so much, hm? She opens up for me so easily.” he chuckled lightly when you whined and clenched around his fingers again in response. “Atta girl.” he cooed when he decided you were opened up enough for him. He withdrew his fingers from your wet pussy and pushed them into your mouth so you would whine too loudly to have them back in your greedy cunt. His free hand quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants just enough to sprung his cock free. And god he was big. He sucked a sharp breath when he finally freed himself from the confines of his pants. Your eyes were blown wide with how big he was, not just the length of it- it was also thick. You knew it’d hurt with just the look of it. König realized how you looked at his cock. It pampered his ego, since he was a cocky bastard, and made him chuckle lightly. “Don’t worry Maus, König will make it fit.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and with a devilish grin, hidden under his mask, he stoked his rock hard length before lining it to your opening and slowly sinking in. "Scheiße." he hissed when your tight hole struggled to take him in. You sobbed and told him it hurt but he didn’t pulled out. Instead of words he kissed your lips to reassure you and his thumb drew circles on your clit, trying to make you forget about the pain and focus to the pleasure. After a few kisses and massages your muscles relaxed and finally he could slide further into you. Your walls were still tight, wrapping around his cock like a glove but not too tight to resist him. And once he was fully inside he groaned into your lips and dropped his head to your neck. He waited until your soft sobs vanished and replaced with pleas for him to move.

You grounded your hips drawing a deep moan from both of you. “Want me to move?” he whispered into your neck, his strong arms caged you underneath him as he stayed balls deep inside you. “Y-yes please… Move.” and he did. His hips started its movements slowly, still not wanting to hurt you or cause any discomfort. But when you whimpered softly as your nails dug into his back, breaking the skin and drawing some blood something in his mind snapped. His thrusts became stronger, faster, harder. He started to rut into you restlessly until you’re a sobbing and blabbering mess. “Slow- oh my…” you tried to tell him to slow down but go faster. You seemed to can’t think properly with how good he was fucking you. “Such a good pussy.” he growled as he straightened his back and grabbed your hips to fuck you harder. He wanted to ruin you so you couldn’t even walk out of his room without his help. He wanted to make you so dependent on him that you couldn’t even talk with others without him being your side. Or even better, if he was lucky, you wouldn’t get out of his room until he’s with you. He knew his thoughts were caveman like but he couldn’t help it. Just thinking about having you to all himself made his head spin. It was your fault tho. He did his best to ignore you, knowing his nature, but you insisted so there you were, moaning his name as he drew orgasm after orgasm from you. And finally emptying his balls into your wet core and plugging his semen in with his fingers. He made sure to not waste any drop. And when you whine about how rough he was he’d kiss you all over, apologize for everything and promise to not do it again.

And later that night when you tried to get uo for work in the morning he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you back into bed. “You have to rest.” he pressed tender kisses on your shoulders and promised he’d talk with your uppers himself. So you agreed to stay. But it didn’t stopped with one day. When you tried to leave he’d just get you confused then fuck you good in his bed, and the circle never broke after that day.

“Don’t worry, Maus. I will take good care of you. You’re mine now.”

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

not me starting new series instead of finishing my previous works _φ(･_･

anyway hope you guys liked it!

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iznsfw · 3 months

Text

Lucid Dream

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 7 - Kim Minju

IZ*ONE's Kim Minju x Male Reader Smut

8,525 words

Categories | married man!You, wife!Wonyoung, daddy kink, degradation, rough sex, OC is not a good person

Content warning | cheating, humiliation, Wonyoung slander (it hurt to write but I read "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn recently so I guess that went into the whole wife-hating thing)

Skipping again a bit (still will do Chaeyeon and Chaewon and everyone because IZ*ONE best girls). Expect a commission and an IZ Days of Xmas fics this month again <3 I love you all, you make me happy. And as always, sorry for the inconsistency!

Wonyoung is beautiful.

You stare at her as she undresses in front of the full-length mirror. She’s the kind of woman whose vanity seldom rolls eyes because her adoration for herself—smoothing down her dark hair, strictly adhering herself to that keto diet, doing her skincare with the dedication of one who prays nightly to god (pick any)—is wholly justifiable. Look at her. Anyone would understand.

The dress she wore for her hosting show slips off her body. Her abs reflect in the mirror, the result of hard work in the gym. Wonyoung’s waist is impeccable. Magazines have written over and over tips to attain it but it seems that the signature Bratz doll feature can only belong to Wonyoung. The makeup was cleaned up by her stylist but her eyes still shine, her lashes are still long, and her lips are still plump.

Wonyoung is standing there in nothing but her underwear, an attractive set of lace.

Wonyoung is the perfect female form, a goddess from above choosing a man from below.

Wonyoung is beautiful, a feat that no matter how amazing besides true, she remains the same old fucking bore.

“Did you like my MCing, babe?” she asks.

“Uh-huh.”

Her legs, long and thin, move in planned strides down the room. To the bed. You know where this is going.

Your feet are killing you. Recline, welcoming yourself into the softness of the expensive mattress and pillows your wife paid for all in all. “Wonyoung, I’m tired.”

She’s a celebrity. Of course, endless days filled to the edge with schedules chase after her. She ought to understand. The nights are her only rest hours, yet with this energy, it’s like Jang Wonyoung never gets exhausted. Always bubbly, always sweet, always so seductive.

All these are positive traits that any other man would adore and own had you not married her.

Wonyoung makes an adorable sigh. “But you say that everytime,” she replies sullenly.

She’s pushing her lips out into this cute pout while her brown puppy eyes beg you to give in like you used to. Once upon a time, you were putty around Wonyoung. Never could give an answer without your voice shaking. Never could come near her without blushing.

She’s the prettiest woman in the world.

You’re the most awful, undeserving man in the world, for all you could think, as you look at her, is: Fucking bitch.

“Well, maybe it’s because I’m always tired.”

“How about,” she puts a finger on her chin, “I do the job for you?”

Her knees are bruised. You notice this when she drops to them so she could pull your pants to the ground. So she’s been doing this for so long? Lowering herself for you? Sucking you off? You thought that she’d get the hint by now: you don’t want to have sex with her.

So instead, she uses her mouth. Better than her pussy anyway. What are you saying? She’s a tight woman. But it’s the same thing everyday: she gets on your cock and you hear her annoying voice straining as she rides you. Her cunt, soaked and useless, makes you want to call her its name. She’s always needy. It isn’t flattering when you don’t reciprocate it.

It’s a goddamned chore. Wonyoung’s throat welcomes you. The other way around, actually: your cock welcomes a claustrophobically closed passageway and has to deal with it until you cum. It’s an unwanted visitor. She rang the bell, said hi, and you let her in. Doesn’t mean you like her there.

“Doing so good, baby,” you say. Oh, yeah, doesn’t mean you mean it either—although you do feel Wonyoung smile happily. She’s happy when she makes you happy. When she makes you give her the illusion that you have any happiness in this worn-out marriage.

Her lips seal around you. You can feel them suckling. Your knees are tense. The moans are forced, though. Hearing them come out from your own mouth makes you want to place a pillow over your face and press it down as hard as you can.

She slides you down her throat. Admittedly, you love the way she chokes. Her eyes get all watery, like she’s crying from pain. That sounds appealing.

You’re a critically messed up man, you know. But they’re what make the world go ‘round. Why do you think they write romance books about them—the bad boy, the mafia boss, the killer? Plus, one of those “terrible” people inspires the biggest Korean celebrity to continue hosting, dancing, and singing. So who’s so terrible now?

To conclude, if anything, you’re the one responsible for Wonyoung’s success.

To conclude, you groan as desperately as you can then release in her mouth. Wonyoung gags. Another pretty sound. Her eyes look up while she attempts to swallow. Saliva sticks to her chin. Semen floods up to the roof of her mouth. It reminds you of how it ends up there more often than in her womb.

You would’ve made beautiful children with Wonyoung in another world where she wasn’t famous and you actually loved her. You would have been a softer, kinder man. She would have been a person who’s easier to love and make love with.

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, that… was incredible.”

If you weren’t a director, you’d be the one on camera. You’re a great actor when it comes to your wife. Your incompetence in the house is masked by husbandly exhaustion; an artificial gaze of attentiveness hides your indifference to conversation.

She smiles coquettishly. “I try.”

The wide closet parts. She chooses a pair of silk pajamas that hang around her thin frame. She climbs onto the bed and wraps an arm around you. Her skin is always cold to the touch. Like she’s dead or something. How interesting.

You stroke her hair. “I’d return the favor but… I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She kisses your forehead. Wonyoung’s a sweet girl. “Good night.”

You smile. Say it back. Her eyelids flutter closed. Her palms are flat against each other and are placed under her cheek. Cute, you guess. She sleeps.

You don’t.

You should have—nothing good ever happens after midnight.

2:05 a.m., more specifically.

Amazing how time slips through your grasp like air. You reach and reach, desperate for a return, desperate for a flash to the past. As always, your efforts aren’t fruitful. The seconds pour through the pinched waist of the hourglass and you can’t stand it on its other head. You’re unable to revert back to the moment you took your arm from underneath your wife’s skull. The moment you opened your phone. If you hadn’t, maybe things would have been different.

But it’s past two, and you’re resting your back on the pillowy headboard with your phone in your hands. The circumstances just play right into danger: Wonyoung’s asleep, the night is eerily quiet, and the screen is there, awaiting the secret routine. Which girls would you cum for today? Why aren’t your thumbs clicking over censored sites?

Your feed shows a naked woman, her eyes staring up and her mouth wide. Scroll past that—you prefer the amateur videos, where the expressions balance between exaggerated and naturally provoked. A ton of videos could help in the bathroom where you take your nightly “shower,” and it’s not one of those.

Maybe you need the real thing.

Look at Wonyoung. Perhaps you should have let her ride you just so you could cum in a warm pussy again. After all, it’s the least you could do when you were once a fan of her. That’s how everyone starts: puppy-like adoration. But she doesn’t have the star quality she once did onstage; the coy thoughtful princess you envisioned her as. That’s why you haven’t fucked her in weeks.

You’re about to wrap your hand around your cock and ready yourself for another night of conflicted pleasure. This video is perfect for that already. You could jerk yourself off then get a good night’s sleep. Simple. This is the safest option for a dangerous want. By just watching, you’re not cheating on your wife. It’s just porn. Jerk off, cum, cum again probably, then sleep. Nobody gets hurt.

“Fuck me… please,” whimpers the woman in the video. Her legs are spread open. Her partner’s swiping his cock at her lips while she looks at him with equal hunger, equal desire. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, a text message notifies you, peeking from the top of your screen. It dares you to click it.

And it says the exact same thing.

fuck me please, i cant take it anymore.

i miss you

You look around, like you’re afraid someone might see it. There’s only the dimness of your bedroom that greets you. It’s safe, but this message isn’t.

The number is familiar. Has one of your friends gone crazy? Or did they send a text to the wrong person? Take it for spam, a perfectly coincidental one, or a scam, a typical, preying-on-the-married, pwning message.

But why would a contact spam you at a time so strangely perfect?

Don’t bother. Your fist works on your dick as you watch the video. The woman’s so wet that although she isn’t squirting, her juices start to stick to the man’s thighs. Her mouth is wide open as he finally pounds her.

What you’d give to have good sex like that again.

XXX-XXX-XXX sent a video message.

Fine. Click it, you’re curious.

Oh, so apparently, the answer is your marriage.

The video shows a face that’s more intimate than familiar. The ebony-black hair already tells you who she is, as does her body. Her form is encased in a floral tank top and nothing else. Although her chest is covered, she’s still a little daring with how her nipples stamp the fabric. She turns herself around to let you admire the curve of her wide hips and her round butt.

There’s only one woman with a body so perfect. And she’s the one and only Kim Minju.

There are reasons for everything. This is yours for why you didn’t give this number a name:

No one needs to know just from a text that you cheated on Jang Wonyoung.

That was so long ago, back when you were still boyfriend and girlfriend. You were drunk and missed Wonyoung’s old self. Why did she have to be such a bitch? Why did she dedicate herself to work and leave you dry? It’s not like the industry would go bankrupt without her. Minju came over, listened to your complaints—every little whine about Wonyoung being busy, every little jab at her workaholic character—then said something along the lines of, why don’t you have a little fun while she’s away.

And you thought… yeah, that was a really great idea.

That was the beginning of the end. After multiple secret meet-ups and raunchy sex in alleyways, you didn’t contact Minju again. You forgot her. You thought she did, too. She should have understood that your infidelity, albeit alluring, would be a thing of the past.

But here she is, in your messages, with a pornographic clip of herself in a round-cornered bubble. She’s waiting for a reply.

Although you’ve long lost your aspirations to be a better husband, you type what a good man should. This man is proper, faithful, and loving. He loves his wife only and the only other people he loves with this deep of a bond is his family.

Stop texting me or I’ll block you.

It’s not enough. You’re not a good man. You aren’t proper or faithful or loving or any of that shit. You were about to masturbate to an internet celebrity after turning down sex with your wife. What about that makes you a good person?

:( you miss me sooooo bad it’s pathetic, Minju replies.

You look at her again. You may not be able to turn back time with your metaphorical hourglass, but you can turn this hourglass body into any position you want. You could push her against a window for all to see, perhaps fuck her to the floor, or slam her on a desk like a teacher would to a test paper. Minju would let you do anything to her.

Stop it.

She really has to. As much as you dislike Wonyoung, she’s your wife, and you vowed on your wedding day to only have eyes for her.

But you’re only one man against a body like Minju’s that curves in every right place.

Three circles float up and down in a contained bubble before she texts you back:

alright…what a pity :( i’m already outside!! i guess ill have to go back…

You’ve never bolted out of bed so fast.

You look back at Wonyoung as you stand in the doorway. She’s still in deep slumber. Now, are the curtains closed? The entrances locked? Scan the house thoroughly, until you inch your way to the front door.

Hesitate. You didn’t know you had a conscience but here it is. It tells you to wonder if Minju really is behind it, like she said. She knows how to use the privilege of being Wonyoung’s close friend. That’s how she came to your house like she used to with no worry for paparazzi or suspicion. Best friends don’t fuck their best friends’ husbands, right?

Open the door. This one did.

Minju grew more beautiful in her absence. Her hair is silkier this time and her shy smile is brighter. The long coat is smoothed by her fingers, and you wish you could be the brown piece of fabric her pale hands run down. What makes you guilty for thinking it, even when you’ve done it, is the fact that she looks so innocent. It’s like it would be a crime to even buy her a drink.

How could she be innocent with that photo she sent? The time you spent together: you folding her over a table and promising to fill her up? Fucking her while Wonyoung is busy and counting on you to welcome her home? Sending nudes like there’s no tomorrow? Nothing about Minju is pure, yet she acts like she could do no wrong.

“Minju,” you say. Your voice sounds fragile. She has a way of breaking you befote you’re breaking her into breaking another bed.

She blinks theatrically. Everything she does is angelic. “Glad you opened the door.”

The knob is cold in your fist. It chills your animalistic brain and urges you to consider the consequences. Right, it says, here’s what a human—a good one—would think. If Wonyoung wakes and sees you with Minju, she’d have a lot of questions. If paparazzi are somehow hiding in the forest that extends to acres before your house, everyone would know you’re cheating on her. Most of all, you’re married, monogamy and everything.

So what will it be? This is your last and only chance to send her away.

You know what you have to do. Take a few breaths. “You have to leave. I’m not joking, it isn’t right.”

In response, Minju unravels the ribbon of the layers sealed around her waist. It falls apart. You do, too.

She’s a real danger. As it turns out, the girl isn’t wearing anything underneath that trench coat. She’s an artist’s naked muse—bare long legs, wide hips, and a sizable bust that has sculptors carving something else.

The cold hardens her pink nipples. You notice how her breasts are much bigger than your wife’s. How her hips are more tempting to grab, so you do. How her body is meatier, a lot more enticing that you wouldn’t refuse a day without touching it.

Minju fuels your infidelity, and you won’t stop for it if it kills you.

She simpers, fingers curling into your work shirt. “Still wanna make me leave,” she asks, “when you can breed me all night long?”

You laugh, huffing it out as you pull her inside and close the door behind her. Minju looks gorgeous pressed to it. She looks gorgeous in whatever situation, actually. Her thighs squish against the carved design and look thicker as a result. More reasons to dive into that shaven cunt and abuse it.

“You’re not leaving until we make a fucking mess, Minju.” You take your shirt off. Throw it on the ground. “And we better make it quick.”

“Of course.” She nods. She’s slyer than a fox, but she submits to you without a second thought.

You lean in to kiss her. The heat is unbearable. You can feel it from Minju’s body transferring to yours. It’s the effect of her natural skills as your personal slut: trying to fit her tongue deeper in your mouth while you pull her close like she’d dare to run away.

You haven’t gotten this hard for anyone else. It’s always been Minju you fall for. You miss the way she kisses, the way she roams her hands all over your torso, the way she’s goddamned insatiable. Feeling it all now in one, heated moment makes you dizzy. You’re taking in too much of her, but without her, you’d go thirsty again.

Your fingers are in her hair; hers are on your waist. Your teeth are clamped down on Minju’s bottom lip; hers are apart and allow soft moans to pass through—one, two, three. You fit each other in so many wicked ways. They did say misery loves company.

Open your eyes. The dream doesn’t stop. Minju’s still pushing her mouth in your face and you’re letting her. You don’t know if you ought to be relieved or downright horrified. You’re cheating on Wonyoung again with a woman whose body is just a bit nicer. You should be furious at yourself. You aren’t.

You’ve made out with each other on the way to the dining room. You and your wife worked hard for its designed walls and sturdy, well-furnished ornaments. A lot of money was raked out to make this house the best place to call home. So, why do you want to ruin it?

Well, because of her.

Minju leans on the dining table with a funny smile on her face. “She really doesn’t do it for you, huh?” she asks.

It makes you wince how you know who she’s talking about. Who else is she referring to other than poor Wonyoung? Poor, skinny, ugly Wonyoung?

Nibble at her earlobe. Hear little gasps come out of her. “Don’t talk about her,” you say.

You don’t want to have any afterthoughts about fucking Minju. Besides, being reminded that you’re disloyal to a woman who loves you very much is painful, even to a man like you.

Wonyoung is an angel. Minju isn’t—but you run after her to darkness.

“Ohh, come on, I know I’m better than her.” Minju squirms with erotic moans. Your kisses are going south, and she loves their little detour. “You don’t fuck her like you fuck me.”

When was the last time you worshiped Wonyoung? Like what you’re doing to Minju now? Your lips haven’t passed over it in ages that you probably wouldn’t know where the bigs and smalls of her body are. Like there’s anything to know.

“Actually,” you snort, “I don’t fuck her at all.”

You stop chuckling. That was the wrong thing to say. That was the wrongest thing to say out of the millions of other cocky phrases you could’ve thrown to Minju. The look on her face, the one that’s of pride and submission and dangerous knowledge united, tells you to watch your mouth.

You’re five seconds minimum too late to listen.

Minju grins. There’s the answer she wanted. “That’s how it is? Just looking at a girl and thinking you wanna stamp a divorce approval on her forehead? Jesus. This is why I never got married.”

“First off, nobody put a ring on you because you’re a slut, Minju.”

“That’s only the third reason.” Her fingers drape the sides of your face and tugs you in. You’re invited to the sight of her infallible tits. “These are the first two.”

The girl isn’t as busty as that woman Wonyoung likes to call her industry mom, but you bet they’re better. No, it’s a matter of truth. Minju’s boobs aren’t too big or too small; just the perfect, filling size to hold onto when you’re railing her from behind.

You choose to suck on them for now. It’s like a trip down memory lane when you kiss down her neck and collarbone. You remember how good her smooth, soft skin feels beneath you, how her moans are a favorite tune. Minju bites her lip while you do so to her shoulder.

It’s crazy to think that she just so happened to be born with this. She was born to be a pretty face with a sex-defined body that you pull and push and pry apart. Best thing is, she’ll lay back down and beg for more. It’s like she knows her purpose, which would’ve shot down her dignity and humanity.

Her nipple pops in your mouth. Your sucking guarantees its hardness, and Minju starts whining. She arcs her body, wanting something rougher. Thus, you seize the span of her hip to rub her pearl with fierce speed.

“Oh, fuck, god—” What others might take for blasphemy, you take for praise. Minju’s already soaking wet. She would have had embarrassing laundry to do if she wore panties. Maybe it’s a good thing she arrived wearing nothing.

She’s still so sensitive. You caress her clit after a few kisses down her midriff. She fidgets needily like you aren’t already touching her. You’re nearly right—this touch is nothing when she needs something harsher. That something involves you treating her less than a human being, putting her down and tearing at her hair.

“Please just fuck me,” she whispers. “Breed me, breed me, breed me—”

Yeah, that’s what she wants.

You don’t need further motivation, not when you’re presented with the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen. Her fat lips are soaked. They frame the clitoris you’ve been stimulating that shines with slick. Then there’s the tiniest hole below it that begs to be used.

Your digits shove past all tightness. Her wetness allows a deeper exploration, so you curl your digits like you’re beckoning the orgasm forward. You know how easily you can get it out of her. All it needs to get Minju cumming around you is a slap, roughness, and giving her what she wants anyway. You know your methods, she knows hers. It’s a recognizable cycle that despite this, you can’t break.

Part your fingers widely to spread her. She’s so wet that she soaks your knuckles. There’s an ocean inside her waiting to be waved to shore. A storm, too, brews from the base of her throat as Minju whimpers. Her body lifts off the table but you force her down on it. She isn’t going anywhere, not without a fight.

Oh, and fight she does. She was an idol before an actress, so her muscles still memorize the circling motions that repeat on your fingers rather than move onstage. She sang once. That was a long time ago yet her voice sounds perfect as it strains her moans. Every little thing she does is a reflection of her past.

That’s why when she leans back, pupils dilating north, and says “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you get deja vu.

Your palm hits her clit, adding impact to your strokes. “There you go, little slut,” you snarl. “Are you happy now? Maybe even a little grateful?”

If Minju’s ass isn’t pressed down on the glass mantling your dining table, it hovers so her pink little hole receives you better. It’s not without the help of her weak hands clinging to the table for dear life, but she seems to be losing her balance. Her hips are shuddering. Her beautiful face is squeezed up into a blissful wince. Her breaths are becoming blunt little gasps that say none of the gratitude you want to hear.

You slap her boob. Red blooms from her pale skin that deepens when another impacts her bosom. The recoil dizzies you. If anyone’s getting the impression that you’ll slap her bouncy tits until you hear a proper word of thanks, they’d be right. First impressions are right just for once.

“T-thank you—” Her voice cracks, breaking like her. “Fuck, shit, thank you, thank you.”

Squeeze her cruelly and pull on the perky nipple. Your thrusts become mindlessly paced. Your hand returns to your cock while the other ruins her pussy. The pleasure is telepathic. It’s connecting you; her screams and squirms make you do the same. The electricity firing up in your veins is a shared network. When you point your fingers to her spot, she arcs her back in the same direction. How beautifully fucked up is that?

“That’s not enough. You didn’t come here for nothing. What do you want, Minju?”

Minju babbles. You got your gratitude but not a proper answer. To be fair, she can’t speak when you’re fucking her like it’s your dick inside her, and when your lips are all over her collarbone.

“And you better keep quiet,” you add, curling your thrusts, “or Wonyoung‘s gonna hear. Do you really want her to know her precious friend is a big slut?”

However, despite the rumors she starts, Minju could be a very good girl when needed.

“Need you to make me cum,” she whispers. Her midriff is fluid as water with the way it rolls, showing off the hourglass shape of her waist and a soft tummy. “Do everything to me you can’t with Wonyoung. P-please, I can’t take it.”

Even if she can’t (wrong by the way), you’ll make her. She asked for it. She walked up to your house with a purpose: to be used, to be treated like less of a human being. So it’s understandable that you slam her down the table and seal a hand around her neck.

She’s so light that the forceful push doesn’t break the fragile glass. But there’s something of hers instead that’s going to be broken.

“Oh fuck! It’s so–” Minju’s eyes roll back. “Ohh… oh!”

Little sparks of wetness shoot in the air. Your pace turns merciless. With just three fingers, you puppet her body. Strings are pulled—her arms raise and her long legs strain to pull you in. You push and she keens, you pull and she yells. You’re making her desecrate the place with her water.

“C-can’t breathe.” A squeeze of her beautiful features—eyelids wrinkling, mouth parting, cheeks filling with scarlet—occurs before she squirts again. She whimpers pathetically, sounding so pitiful you want to laugh. “Ah, fuck, daddy—”

Something stirs inside you. When men hear that name, it ought to feel purely platonic and familial. They’d hear it from their daughter and feel compelled to protect them from men who’d do to them what you do to Minju. But you much prefer hearing that two-syllable word when it comes from a naked woman squirting all over the floor, from whom once you register it, you’re urged to pin her down, tie her down, hold her down.

Ironically, you release her. That isn’t because it’s over though. “On your knees. Follow me.”

Minju releases a gasp, grateful for the oxygen. The color returns to her face yet she barely has the energy to get off the table. You’re a generous man, and hey, it still counts as helping. So you yank her hair and force her on the ground. She fucking moans, a feat deserving of a healthy spank to her ass.

You walk to the living room. She follows you withher hands and knees bearing the cold tiles. You lead her to the place where you spend your time watching movies, rehearsing, and hanging out with Wonyoung if she’s ever home.

Speaking of, glance at the door of your bedroom. It’s still closed. It’ll stay that way.

Look down after wondering why Minju’s noisier. She’s playing with herself on the floor with no care for the cold chill of the tiles or the little dirt wedged between them. She lightly rubs her abused clit, quivering at the contact. You expect that from her—she’s corrupted, an irredeemable cause. She’ll get herself off anytime anywhere.

But what’s unexpected is what those watery eyes are focused on: you, in a framed picture on the wall. You look younger, happier. You’re in formal garments standing next to Wonyoung in a church.

It was you on your wedding day.

You spit on Minju. “Filthy cumslut.”

The drool slides down her cheek like a tear. She darts her tongue out and licks it. One could’ve thought it was candy considering the lift of a smile.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” she says resolutely. Her fingers still toy with her entrance. They won’t serve her well when there’s a bigger, better thing behind your pants to do it for her.

Your pants are already off. “Get up. Get the fuck up,” you command, but you do it for her.

You grab her neck and force her up. The look on her face is addicting, the way the shock turns into carnal need, the way she bites her lip. You press her to the wall, right under the framed wedding pictures, and finally plunge yourself inside her.

“Oh, oh, oh!”

What did Minju do to get this tight? Her walls are squeezed closer around you than you remember. They’re still wet from her squirting, easing your burden of fighting against the tautness of her core.

Her groans are pitched just like how you pitch yourself in her and make her fight for it. She tries everything: gathering the strength she has to push her ass into your crotch, rolling her body, looking back to watch your cock disappear between her lips.

“So big, daddy!” she cries. With a lick of her lips, she turns to face you. “Mmm, d-do you ever get this massive when you’re fucking Wonyoung?”

That seals it. There’s no restraint in using her body. Her plump ass leading to her toned back is a temptation by itself. You’d burst all over it (maybe in it) if you weren’t already firm in breeding her. But dear god—it rises and descends into your angled pumps so effortlessly that you aren’t afraid to spank it like you’re angry at her.

“Keep your whore mouth shut.”

Spank after spank you bestow and you realize, oh, you and Minju are really made for each other. The more her ass reddens, the more hot pain sparks on your palm. She throws herself back hard, you piston her harder.

Your puzzle pieces stick together so perfectly that it’s a shame you didn’t meet under different circumstances. She could’ve been an adorable girl next door and you could have been a guy looking to slip her a love letter. She would’ve been your loving girlfriend, a beautiful wife, someone you’d actually enjoy touching, so different from the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.

But that’s never happening. Minju’s a slut through and through, and she’ll forever be a sin you won’t go to confessions for. She was made to be fucked then discarded of when she’s no longer of use. You see it in the way she’s in a mantra of craziness, the way she yells, the way she looks back at you like she’s daring you to hurt her.

You choose the dare rather than to tell her the truth. You curl her hair into a fist and pull her into you.

“God, I’m so close.” Minju’s trembling body grows warmer in your touch. “I’m gonna cum all over your big gorgeous cock. I can’t hold out longer, daddy.”

Your teeth dig into her earlobe. You could make her bleed and she’d still find a way to make the pain heavenly. “I thought I told you to be quiet. Is Wonyoung waking up and ending your life worth it for this?”

“What if I say yes?”

“Fuck.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice, making her see you’d give her away to get a night with me? You’ll give up all this stupid shit t-to be my daddy. Because Wonyoung’s just sooo worthless, isn’t she?”

Savage her cunt and shove your fingers down her mouth just so she could shut up. You love this. Minju’s always so ready for you.

No, actually—now that you think about it, you hate it. You hate how she’s curvier than your wife, how she’s more alluring than she could ever be, how she moans despite the blockage in her throat. Everything about her is so sexy that the sound of her choking up spit makes you throb.

This is the wrong time to have a conscience. You’ve already split her apart. You’ve already got your fingers in her hair that pull hard to the point that damage is highly likely. You’ve already—

—got Minju screaming, biting down on your skin as her legs spread. What a strange thing to have as a natural reflex. That’s all she knows to do: spread her legs, hope her innocent face attracts a guy into her home and his dick into her pussy. Her skin, white as snow, has become impure with red blemishes. You see her purple-bruised neck flex when she yells into your hand.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Minju yells. Her fingernails leave fine scratches on the wall. “Fuck, I’m squirting so much I don’t know what to do—oh fuck!”

You bump the manic girl up on your knee before spreading her legs. A godless squirt of her juices hits Wonyoung’s face, the savior being the glass protecting the picture. Others bless their homes with water blessed by esteemed priests; you like to stand out. Choose to have Minju’s unholy juice flood the photo you once held dear.

Did something possess you? An evil spirit, a god of fertility? All are clichés but you can’t help but think so when you notice how fast you’re pumping Minju. It’s like greed’s finally reigned you. It’s difficult to resist. Minju just wrings your cock perfectly dry with her tight cunt, keeps you speedy with her desperate moans. You’re vandalizing her with your climax and she doesn’t want to be clean ever again.

“You think you’re special, Minju?” You press her to the ruined picture. Her side profile mashes on the glass. “You’re nothing, only a useless hole, just like that bitch. Now clean it up.”

Her eyes light up in shock. Excitement? “What?”

You pull her head back in order to have her full lips pressed against Wonyoung’s face. The clear squirt is still dripping from it. Minju’s face is red, and although your cock left her moments ago, she insists on tensing like it’s there. Is that how she lives? Her way of bonding is riding on the high she got the night before and the night before that. She always has sex in her mind that thoughts of it occur to her as they would to an animal.

That’s right; she’s an animal. Perhaps even a dog would have more self-control than her, ironically.

“Lick your mess,” you command. “Now.”

Minju whimpers. You bury your fingernails in her scalp until she loses her fake hesitance. Her tongue glides on Wonyoung’s face and relieves her of the mess. Her lips part and close, taking in her own taste.

She looks like she’s making out with your wife. Her pretty face smudges the other pretty face in the picture and it’s so much hotter than it’s got the permit to be. Wonder how it’ll look if she’s actually kissing the real Wonyoung—picture them with their legs locked together and tongues coming out to play—and you’re hard enough for another round.

“That’s right. You want to be Wonyoung so bad? You want to be the one I drive into the bed everyday? So fucking make out with her.”

“Y-yes, daddy. Oh.” Minju’s moans fog the glass. “I taste delicious.”

It’s probably a hygienically reprehensible thing to do. But her mouth is dirtier than the picture anyway. You force her lips deeper into it until you pull her away, satisfied.

Not quite.

Rub her clit a few more times. Hose her squirt all over the floor. You’ll have a mess to clean up. Oh, there’s all the evidence: her squirt on the floor, her lipstick in the shape of a languid kiss on the picture frame, the mess she made in the dining table where you ate her rather than your food.

But it’s all worth it. An evil idea plants and sprouts in your mind. “Bedroom.”

Minju pants. Her hands are flat on the wall. She turns to you, saliva and lipstick smeared on her chin, and asks, “W-which one?”

“You know exactly where.”

Her wide eyes tell you wordlessly that she got the point. She’s well aware of what room you want to use her body next. It’s not even supposed to be a question given the ways and moments you fucked her there.

“But daddy—if, if she hears us?”

You grin. “Then you’ll have to be pretty fucking quiet.”

The best thing about Minju besides her body is her passiveness. She may act up sometimes but she still needs your cock, and she’ll do anything to get it. So when she hangs her head to hide her smile, you spank her. It speeds her steps to the staircase. Continue doing so all the way.

It’s funny how she struggles to even lift a foot. Streams of your cum and hers slide down her legs, staining the carpet. You’ll have to wash that out, too. If you have the maid do it, she’s likely to put two and two together.

Even from the back, Minju’s body is beautiful. Her reddened ass twists from side to side and brings attention to her wide hips. The deep line on her spine is a path you trace your fingertips on. She quivers.

“Daddy,” she whines.

Hit her butt. Let it fill your palm. “Keep on walking.”

It’s borderline dehumanizing. You’re treating her with a ferociousness a woman like her should never have to go through. The eyes of the painted men and women on your walls lock on her. It’s like their hard stares are real. Minju bears the blows to her cheeks during her walk of humiliation up the stairs. Tiny yelps are caused by each one. It’s in her to be quiet now that Wonyoung is quite near, although not as close as she is to another heavy orgasm.

You slap her pussy, making her shake, then lead the juices mingling in it up to her asshole. She chews on the inside of her cheek to hide her moan. She reaches the last step with a huge sigh of relief.

The finality of the torture doesn’t last long. Fuck, it doesn’t even exist. You collect the semen and wetness from her legs, then drag it right back to her pussy.

You shove your fingers deep in her cave. There. Now your cum stays inside her. After that, it’ll drip all the way to her womb. She screams through pursed lips.

Push her hard against your bedroom door. Her stomach’s flatness goes up to the point that it’s the only thing engendered into the wood. Minju’s tiny gasp is already loud for you. Her beautiful side profile is mashed deep into the solid barrier between the two women.

Minju whimpers. Is she scared or heavily turned on? The thing with her is she likes both. So, yeah—she’s wet at the thought of being caught with you, being fucked within a distance of your wife wherein she could finally pin down your infidelity.

The little angel closes her eyes when your words hover near her prone ear. “Shut up,” you warn, “unless you want to lose your career. Or this dick.”

You slip your shaft between Minju’s shapely thighs. A friction is nurtured and grown into rough, pant-accompanied humping that leaves both of you breathless. Her pussy lips splay warmly on you and you’re allowed to rub yourself on her clit.

Minju tenses up. Her breaths are kept to a hummed volume yet their huskiness gets you to fuck her legs faster. The core between them is so warm and you haven’t even welcomed yourself in it again.

You carefully open the door. You don’t know what you’re expecting: Wonyoung crying with her face in her knees? An anger you never knew she could have? But what shows calms you. There’s your wife who remains asleep on the bed. From the soft snores, it’s easy to tell she’s deep in a dream.

“Wonyoung’s so pretty, daddy,” whispers Minju. You push her to the footboard where she holds on tight. “Do you think she’ll want to join if she wakes up? Or she’ll leave you for me?”

“Are you sure you want to act like that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Depends on what you’re gonna do to me.”

Everything. You’re planning on doing everything to her.

Push her to the small pole of the wood. You’re forced to shove your fingers in her mouth again to keep her from yelling. The contact it makes to her clit is already overwhelming. But she’s all for overwhelming—she wants the kind of sex that leaves her beaten and bruised, the kind that leaves her sore and not knowing if she should tell you to keep going or halt.

You know what she’d choose.

Minju grinds on the pole. She’s dancing her hips again. Somehow, things of the past don’t leave her. Her idol days still leave an impact on her. The guy she made cheat on his wife a long time ago returned to her life to cheat again.

No, you’ve never been one for sentimentality, but things have somehow stayed the same. The slut that is Minju today was a slut all those years ago, too.

Grab her hips and force her to hump the ball of the pole. She soaks it instantly. Minju is corrupted to no hope of return. There’s your cum, leaking from her pussy and to the bedsheets. Her juices wet the pole and increase the creaking noises that would wake Wonyoung up if not for whatever dream she’s having.

“Oh, daddy! Oh, daaaddy—” she stammers, words bitten and broken in the major need to be quiet. “Just… fuck me. Please?”

“As long as you—”

“Be a good quiet girl, yes. I’ll do anything, daddy. Anything for this cock.”

She kneels down. Her tender mouth seals around your left testicle. You nearly shout right there and then. Minju’s running her lips on the underside of your swelling dick. She feels so good, and she is so good. She has all the tips and tricks to keep you hard memorized, if her brain wasn’t too full of other dirty thoughts.

The rasp in your throat materializes and makes her squirm her legs together. She puckers her lips then slips your cock through their joined entrance. Her almond eyes look wider tonight. Your tip pokes the back of her throat. She lets it rub there for now. You find pleasure in the texture that makes you leak. No, you can’t cum. Not yet.

Take a last look at Wonyoung before diving your rod to the depths of Minju’s throat.

It’s funny that the girl still has a gag reflex. Sucking dick is second nature to her. So is getting throatfucked. The walls of her oral hole flex to keep you in. She makes sharp inhalations only to take in the musky scent you thrust on her. In her?

Choking comes after. The orifice grows tighter which makes you fuck it harder. Saliva’s slick liquid state sheens your erection. Minju’s lost her breath a long time ago but she’s lost more than that now. The regular beat of her heart is gone. You can’t search her face for any color other than the palest white.

“You have to stop gagging, Minju,” you say. Don’t help her though; keep ruining that throat. “Maybe you really do wanna get caught. Makes you really wet, doesn’t it?”

She nods. Your hard tip bobs in her mouth as she does. Her pretty eyes, with their long lashes and big pupils that always seem to gleam with innocence, fill with watery tears.

“How cute.” You’re surprised that her hair is intact to her scalp after you pull it back. “But I make the rules around here. And I need you to seal that mouth shut and use it for good.”

There’s a possibility that, like Minju, you’re a dancer as well. But the upward grind of your body has no grace in it. It’s a rough, punked up beat that renders the girl humming and screaming. This roughness is nowhere close to natural.

You dip your cock in her just to see how far you could go, how far is needed to keep her quiet. Feed her more than she could suck. Every sensitive spot of yours is on fire thanks to Minju’s dutiful tongue and hard sucking. Your sack slaps her chin so hard it’s surprising it doesn’t hurt.

But, like you iterated, Minju isn’t normal. She takes the pain for pleasure and doesn’t give a damn if she gets wounded because of it.

The tears finally fall from her eyes.

The lines blur. Who is she—the woman asleep on your bed or the woman you fucked to be disloyal to her? Minju’s beautiful; so is Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung is beautiful but there’s a category of beauty wherein the girl you’re destroying right now falls in. That’s the section for women who look pretty when they cry, who’ve accepted they’re as fucked up as whoever finds them and takes them in for who they are.

Your wife is pretty. You guess. But Minju is a beauty who lets you do everything to her, and that makes her a little bit more important.

Defile, defile, defile. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you get cum in her hair—(”I have a photoshoot, babe, you can’t!”). Semen sticks to Minju’s locks right now. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you be this rough with her—(“And what if they see? I shouldn’t look dirty to the fans.”) Minju is sitting there taking it like she’s just a cum dump. Wonyoung wouldn’t let you tear off her clothes because “they’re couture so it’s not really mine.” The coat Minju wore coming here lies discarded on the first floor.

Wonyoung doesn’t let anyone defile her. It’s her most fatal flaw. It’s the flaw that makes her husband see all the tiny imperfections she doesn’t allow the camera to see and chase highs in another woman’s throat.

So when Minju cries, gags, chokes—you realize it’s all so simple.

Slip out of her. The delusions clouding your head make you steal a look at the bed. Oh, now it’s unbelievable. Wonyoung is still asleep.

Not that it’s any inconvenience to you.

You prop Minju up to the vanity table. The counter carries the heave of her small chest. She can barely lift her head up. It makes her carry a look of humiliation that’s not at all true. She’s the most shameless woman you’ve ever met.

“Daddy… daddy…”

Twist her chin so she can look at herself in the mirror. Her body is amazing despite the handprints and bruises peppered on her stomach, butt, and neck. She flusters but your finger presses on her lips before she can look away.

“Not a single sound,” you remind her.

She nods. Good girl.

Minju’s a capable girl. Well, mostly. She offers those amazing dicksucking lips, shapely curves, and sometimes, her ass for ruining its own tightness. But nothing beats the feeling of her cunt. It’s all the right things: wet, tight, and perfectly quivering as they wrap around your shaft.

Minju closes her eyes. Bites down on her lip. She fights to be true to her promise of silence. Being a good girl and bad girl simultaneously is one of her versatile traits. The table creaks louder than expected. You would’ve shot another look at your spouse again, but Minju’s pretty face is in the way. Her cheeks are scarlet and her brows bead with sweat. She really is a beauty.

Your strokes are ceaseless. The thing that shocks you the least is the fact that her legs look as if they spread wider and wider. She splits while you split her apart. Place a hand on her tummy to muffle the sounds of skin colliding and wood creaking, and reach a better end: your cock is hitting her guts, making a bobbing print on her flat stomach.

“Look how deep I am, Minju.” You grin wickedly at her reflection. “You call me daddy anywhere, don’t you? How about I become a real one?”

Minju bounces herself on you. That’s a yes. A definite, enthusiastic yes.

Your penetration is rougher, gliding on places she can’t even imagine. If you cum right now, and this far in, you’ll live up to your name of “daddy.” Minju isn’t the only one who has to keep promises.

Corner a pulse point on her neck. Her core squeezes and although its resistance is tough, your pumps are more so.

“You’ll be my secret good girl. Daddy’s gonna put a fucking baby in your stomach, and no one has to know it’s mine. No one has to know you’re mine.”

Minju pouts, not out of sadness but of the orgasm that’s creeping from her feet to her center. It’s so close she could reach for it, taste it like a strong wind. You allow the tiny breaths and pants that leave her to be exemptions from your bedroom law.

“Wonyoung would be so happy for you.” You lick the sensitive spot behind her ear. “‘That’s so great, unnie! Come on, tell us who’s the lucky guy.’ And you’ll have to stop yourself from telling her that I did it. Can you do that?”

Minju emphasizes each repetition with a responding throb and push of her cunt. “Yes, yes, yes—”

Allow that, too. Burst inside Minju. Flood her insides with cum that shall infiltrate her fertile womb. Soon, that tummy would be round rather than flat. It’ll be your baby.

Minju got what she wanted in the end.

The next day, Wonyoung will wake up crying.

It’ll happen early in the morning, when the moon is still up and sheets still wrap your exhausted form. But she’s sobbing so loud that it’ll rouse you.

“What’s wrong?” you’ll say.

She’ll tell you about a dream she had. Wonyoung’s going to narrate a complex dream of Minju, her beloved former member and best friend, seducing you. It happened right in the house and in front of her. You dared to do it to her while she was sleeping and thought she didn’t know.

And you?

You’ll take her in your arms, kiss the inside of her trembling wrist, and say, “Oh, honey—it’s okay. I’m here, baby. I’m here. I’m here.”

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zeezelweazel · 5 months

Text

Alexia Putellas| Wrong place wrong time|

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Tumblr decided to be a pain in the ass again and for some reason didn't let me edit my drafts so I'm creating new ones. Sorry to all the people that requested something and it got lost in my drafts, blame Tumblr.

Pt 2 here → With all the time in the world

TW: semi public sex, oral (Alexia receiving), dirty talk

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Training was especially tiring today, given that you've just came back from national break. But you have a champion's league game in a few days. You feel Ingrid patting your shoulder as she gives you a smile that screams 'I know, me too'. You continue sipping on your water as you make small talk with the tall Norwegian.

After a few minutes training is pronounced over and you groan as you're finally able to take of your sweaty clothing. You throw your shirt somewhere in the training room, making a note to pick it up later, and you search through your bag for a clean shirt. When you find your favourite sweatshirt that you stole from Alexia's closet you move to throw your sweaty shirt in the training bag. Before you're able to put on the fresh garment a hand roughly pulls you back. You're met with Alexia's dark eyes but have no time to question anything before the captain pulls you away.

"Alexia, hey! I still don't even have my shirt on! Where are we even-"

Suddenly Alexia pushed you to the nearest wall and placed a hot needy kiss on your lips. You quickly recovered from your initial shock and kissed back gripping Alexia's hips and pulling her closer to you. The blonde whimpered against your lips and started grinding her hips up against you, without being able to find the much needed friction she was hoping for. Oh, so that's what this is about.

You push Alexia back and smirk when she whines at the loss. You normally love to tease her when she gets all needy like this but there's no time now. You're both still standing in the hallway, were anyone could walk by and see you still topples. You mirror her action from before and pull Alexia with you, opening a random door and closing it behind you. It was a storage room, probably. You didn't have any time to look around because the moment the door closed you pushed Alexia against it.

She whimpered against your lips when you pushed your tongue inside her mouth. She tried to keep up but you were practically devouring her. After a few seconds you got impatient and with a final bite to her lower lip you moved away and slightly lower to nip at her earlobe. Alexia gasped and slightly moved her head to the side. You smirked at her desperate reaction.

"Couldn't wait to go home and get fucked properly, huh? Is your pretty pussy dripping for me?"

Alexia bit her lip at your hushed whispers. She answered your question when her thighs clenched tightly and rubbed against eachother. She really didn't know how she got so wet. Watching you train, your muscles highlighted with sweat and then seeing your abs when you pulled your shirt off...

Alexia almost moans at the mere memories of you. You push your hand under her shirt to squeeze at her breasts and Alexia moans quietly, looking at you with wide pleading eyes.

"Want me to fuck you against the door?"

You asked when you pressed your body closer, effectively trapping her between you and the metal of the door. Your heads had found themselves under the fabric of her sports bra and you immediately took a nipple between your fingers and tugged.

"Yes! Please, fuck, I need you."

Alexia thought she was going to combust from the need to be touched. She looked at you desperately, tears welling up in her beautiful eyes and you couldn't resist anymore. Without a single warning you dropped down on your knees and pulled Alexia's sweatpants and panties down in one go. Alexia immediately spread her legs as far as they could go, with the fabric down her legs restricting her movements. You chucked at her eagerness and brought your hands up to caress her strong thighs. Not wanting to tease the blonde you immediately went into action.

When you leaned in and placed a short and light kiss on her clit Alexia moaned, loud enough so anyone walking outside could hear. You only smirked against her cunt and slowly dragged your tongue between her folds. Alexia moaned again, this time it was a high pitched sound, almost like a whine. You moved your mouth quickly this time going from her clenching hole up to her swollen clit. It was pulsing and begging for attention but you decided to go ignore it for now, opting to move down to her tight opening and tease. Alexia had moved one of her hands to tangle in your hair while the other tried, and failed, to muffle her moans.

You continued devouring her pussy like it was your last meal on earth and Alexia was getting more desperate for release. She started rolling her hips against your face in a pathetic attempt to get off. You growled in warning after a particularly hard thrust pushed her pelvis on your nose painfully. Alexia was so far gone she couldn't control her desperate movements so you moved your hands from her thighs to roughly grab her ass, squeezing the soft flesh and using it as leverage to keep her hips still. Alexia whimpered at your rough touches and her knees buckled.

Soon enough her thighs started closing down around your head, a clear sign that Alexia was close to coming. You suddenly paused when you heard something over Alexia's muffled moans. Alexia whined and looked down at you, eyes confused and pleading. She tried to push your head back to her cunt but the sound of cleats rapidly hitting the cemented floor broke the horny atmosphere.

"You think she lost us?" Aitana.

"I don't know but we're dead if she finds us." Ona.

You don't know what the two young friends did but sounds like their in trouble. You looked up at Alexia, who's eyes were filled with tears at the sudden interruption. You know how much Alexia hates being edged, especially when she's this needy.

"We have to hide somewhere, quickly. How about this room?"

Alexia's eyes widen in fear when she hears Aitana's words and shakes her head slightly as if the girls in the other side of the wall would somehow get the message. You hate how Alexia's attention has shifted to what's happening outside so you bite the inside of her thigh and the captain barely contains a loud moan by bitting her lip. She looks down at you with a shocked expression and just as you're about to dive in again you hear another booming voice in the hallway.

"There you are! No- don't run away from me, I'll get you!"

Thank god for Mapi.

You don't waste a second before you dive back in. Alexia was distracted from the interruption and the fear of getting caught so when you sucked her clit into your mouth she threw her head back so hard you were worried she got a mild concussion and moaned loudly.

"Fuck, just like that! Please, I need to come."

You continue licking her up, slurping all her juices as Alexia squirms under your strong hold, moaning uncontrollably. It only takes a few more moments before her thighs start squeezing your head once more. You brush your teeth against her clit and your nails wrack down her ass and Alexia's eyes roll back in her head and she comes with a silent scream.

Her cum spills down your face and you don't stop, your tongue working between her folds and dipping in her hole before coming back up at her clit. It's sensitive and pulsing so when your tongue touches it Alexia yelps and pushes your head away slightly. You take the hint and rise up to meet her lips in a heated kiss, your tongue pushing it's way into Alexia's mouth. You smirk against her lips when Alexia moans as she tastes herself in your tongue.

Alexia is left panting against the door barely able to stand. When she opens her eyes she grins at you with that just fucked look that you absolutely love and it takes everything you have in you not to jump on her again. Instead you caress her face and smile when she leans in your touch. You press a quick kiss on her forehead and move down to whisper in her ear.

"When we get home I'll make sure to fuck so good you won't be able to walk for days."

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#wlw #female reader #smut #bottom character #dom reader #sub character #top reader #woso smut #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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lamourdelore · 6 months

Text

author!abby who writes a fictional novel based on you, but the two of you hadn’t spoken in years, she really didn’t think she’d be on your radar at all. yeah, sure — you did like to read. but you hadn’t even known about it when you were together. how would you even find out about it? abby sure wouldn’t be the one to tell you.

author!abby starts to worry about you finding out about her book when it starts selling well. she was happy, over the moon actually, but the fear loomed over like a dark rainy cloud, following her every where she went. confessions of love and words never spoken all laid out prettily in ink, and god did abby feel exposed.

author!abby who cries when she gets the news her novel is a new york times best seller. she’s stupidly happy about it and she’s feels proud of herself. almost as if you’re here right along with her, but you’re not. just this idea of you, placed inside this world she created — one where there is a happy ending for the two of you but then the doom of reality sets in.

author!abby nearly passes out when she runs into you. friday night, the moonlight hitting you so well, it truly wasn’t even fair. some other girl on your arm, and she only pulled you closer with abby’s presence.

author!abby still thinks you’re the most beautiful person, inside and out, and it pains her still to see you with someone else who isn’t her. of course she had been with other people, just like you, but there wasn’t anyone who fit perfect like you did.

author!abby wonders what she would say to you if your companion wasn’t trying to size her up. she was a femme which already made abby feel insecure. abby was your only history of dating a masc, which had always been a sore spot. she’s beautiful and the way she holds you, god it makes abby want to hurl.

author!abby thinks it’s silly she can’t just move on. you’re just a girl. granted, a girl who inspired her to write an entire novel. even then, she should be able to get over you. you’re stupidly perfect lips, those stunning eyes that maker her fall to her knees every time. it isn’t fair how much she still loves you after all this time. fuck.

author!abby also finds herself dreaming of you when she's lonely. it's harmless mostly, until she wakes up and you're not on the other side of the bed. then it hits her cruelly, you're not here and you've never even set foot in the apartment she moved into when the two of you broke up. she's living her worst nightmare.

author!abby really believes she's sick when you're untangling yourself from the girl you're with and you collide into her arms. you smell of cedar and vanilla and it intoxicates abby as she feels your arms around her waist. she feels light, the heavy weight of her solemn loneliness bites the dust in your presence.

"Missed my sweet, Abs. Fuck, it's really you and all that muscle, huh?" You kiss her cheek sweetly, so quick she's doubts if it even happens.

author!abby tries not to laugh at your date omitting an aggravated grunt at the interaction, but she decides ignoring it and having you in her arms is far more important. if it's only for this short time, so be it. abby knows she's blushing and hopes it believable the cold is to blame.

author!abby tries not to think of it for the next couple weeks. your kindness spreading to her like angel dust on skin, healing a heart abby had practically broken herself. abby wondered how serious it was with you and the other girl. the only thing she did know, was abby had made her jealous. the way she kissed you and grabbed your ass could only be the effect of bright, green envy.

author!abby starts outlining a new story and she knows as well as her publisher why and now she regrets telling him, but your pure presence had her writing again. the timing nothing other than comical. it shouldn't have, but it did.

author!abby is wearing nothing but black sweat pants and a white beater when there is a knock on her door. it's aggressive and harsh, and it surprises her when it's you. how did she even find out where you live? fuck, manny. it had to be.

author!abby takes in your appearance and it's clear you were dressed for a date, more than likely with the girl you were with earlier. evidently, you were dating her and god you were dressed to the nines in front of her. a cocktail gown with pretty black heels. she tries not to take note of your cleavage and your perfect tits, or the way the material was snug around your hips, accentuating them perfectly.

author!abby knows you're angry, and she isn't sure why. it's not like the two of you had talked since your run in. maybe abby had stalked your socials a bit, yeah. obviously. but she wasn't bold enough to actually reach out to you.

author!abby didn't have to think about it much longer when you threw the book at abby's chest forcing her to catch it. with a look of horror in her eyes, she knew you had found out about it and read it. eyes filled with tears, abby had caused you heartbreak once again. even if it was unintentional, she was the source of your pain and she hated herself for it.

author!abby hates the way you're looking at her, tears cascading down your plump cheeks, but your anger was still prevalent. you had every right to be upset and abby tried to think of it from your perspective. if you had refused to tell her you love her, but then wrote it all in a book and didn't tell her about it, there isn't a sliver of doubt she would be upset.

"I guess I should have listened to Manny and told you about the book." Absent mindedly chewing on her bottom lip. Abby avoids looking you in the eye. She can't even stomach your presence. It makes her feels sick, and happy, and awfully optimistic. It's disgusting.

author!abby knew a light-hearted joke wasn't the best choice she could make, but it was the only one she had. there wasn't much else she could do except wait for whatever blow she knew was coming. this was her own mess, there was no one but to blame but herself.

You ignore her comment. It makes you want to punch her and kiss her. "How could you look me in the eye tell me you don't love me and will never love me and then proceed to write an entire romance novel based on our relationship?" You were practically screaming at her, but your volume was reduced as chocked sobs fell from your lips.

author!abby wishes she could give you an answer that would help, but there isn't one. her reasons are selfish and nothing she says help you - not in the way you need. anything she could offer would provide little to no comfort.

"I'm happy now. I have a girlfriend whose good to me and it took me a long time to get there. To be happy without you and your cruel, vile words hanging over me and infecting my day to fucking day life." You regretted saying it the moment your eyes caught blue ones, guilt pouring out from within. “I’ve finally moved on.” "Then be happy. Just forget about what I wrote. It's stupid anyways, okay? Just a dream I got carried away with." It's a lame attempt and not enough effort is made to sway you to walk away from her front door. Abby pushed because it's the only thing she knows how to successfully do.

author!abby wishes you would go away because if you stand in front of her for any longer, she'll be inviting you in and lord knows she doesn't need this to happen. it's the last thing she wants and the absolute one thing she needs.

"It's not stupid, if it's your dream." You said, trying to reassure her. "You cared enough to write about it. I-, uh, please can you just tell me the truth? Please just tell me?" You pleaded wanting to hear what you thought of endlessly. "I wrote this for the girl I fell in love with, for the girl I still love and will always love and she's standing in front of me with the power to crush my heart in her hands if she wants."

#oh boy #yeah this was supposed to be a lil hc that turned into something a much more #wtf #anyways hi <3 #lesbian #wlw sapphic #abby anderson #abby fanfiction #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby anderson x you #abby x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson imagine #rayne writes

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danikamariewrites · 6 months

Note

i took a look at my room and started fantasizing ab azriel as usual. And it got me thinking ab his room aesthetic blended w his mate who is super girly. Like pink covers, satin pillows, baby pink everything. And imagine az with a mate who moves into his room and starts to bring in her own stuff, and he one day walks in and his dark room has pink bedsheets with the cutest stuffed animals. And to the right side of his bed are the weapons he uses to kill enemies. Like the sudden change in aesthetics is comical. He doesn’t even mind he just loves it, he’d ofc never let anyone else in his room, but his mate? yeah she can do whateverrr she wants in here. Could I please request this? Maybe the ic walk past his room and sees pink cutesy girly stuff and their jaw drop

Combined Aesthetics

Azriel x reader

A/n: I think this is so adorable. He would love the pink and all your stuff in his room and have heart eyes every time he sees you sitting on the bed that’s now the bed you share 😍

Warnings: none

You and Azriel have two very different aesthetics as you lovingly pointed out at the start of your relationship. While he gravitated more towards darker and minimal decor you preferred colorful and cozy.

At the start of your relationship Azriel mostly stayed the night at your apartment. He said he was comfortable there, plus he liked all your little knick knacks and decor. Your place felt like home to him. It’s a safe space for him and he feels at peace with you. A warm feeling always rising in his chest when his with you.

Even though his home is with the IC and his permanent room is at the River House with everyone else he can’t help but think of you as home. The first time you stayed the night in his room was when you met the IC. Azriel invited you over to finally meet his family who you became instant friends with which made Azriel very happy to see his two worlds no longer be separated.

Cassian grilled you immediately about your relationship of course. You joke back and forth with him and Rhys making Azriel smile. You and Nesta clicked instantly as well. And you were planning on spending time with each of them already. And of course Nyx stole your heart. The little boy clung to you instantly, wanting you to play with him all night.

Once dessert wound down the two of you headed up to his room. Azriel stopped outside the door gripping the handle so hard his knuckles turned white. You rest your hand on his to get his attention. Az looks at you like he forgot you were there for a second.

He felt like a teenager bringing a female to his bedroom for the first time and mother above did it feel nerve wracking. Az wasn’t nervous for you to stay the night. Truthfully he was embarrassed by how bare and dark his room is compared to yours.

“Hey, you ok baby?” He nods, “Yeah it’s just…I want you to feel at home here.” You sweetly smile up at your boyfriend. “Of course I will Azzy. It’s your room how could I not?” He nods stiffly and pushes the door open. You walk in first, Az follows and turns on the lights.

You stop to take in your new surroundings. Your heart broke at how empty his room is. You knew Azriel was minimal about how much space he takes up, but even in his own room? His personal space? It felt a little cold like his shadows.

The floor was wood, no carpet anywhere. Just a large velvet arm chair and foot rest by the fireplace. A simple clock on the mantle. Thick black curtains cover the floor to ceiling windows and balcony doors. His bed was simple. A black duvet with two pillows resting against the headboard. You were positive that if you pulled the cover back you’d find black sheets as well.

Tears pricked your eyes. You know the reason why too. Which broke your heart even more. It was the same reason why it took you months to convince him to have a section of your closet and a drawer in your dresser. Azriel never wanted to be a burden and take up too much space.

It had been minutes since you moved. Azriel was starting to get concerned. He turned you by your shoulders, instantly becoming concerned by your tears. You answer the heartbreaking look on his face with your own question, your voice coming out small, “why don’t you have anything?”

Azriel just shrugged. You pulled him into a tight loving embrace. Az rubs small circles on your back. “It’s ok love. I have enough. I don’t need material things, not when I have you.” He gently brushes the pad of his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears.

You nod giving him a small smile. “I love you so much Az.” “I love you too sweetheart.” He kisses the top of your head, leading you to bed.

——

A year later Azriel asked if you would move in with him. The mating bond had snapped and been accepted and he couldn’t handle the distance from you. Besides, you wanted out of your tiny apartment. This was just a stepping stone until you got a house for yourselves.

“Make yourself at home love. This is your room too, put anything wherever you want.” Your eyes light up at the opportunity to make Azriel’s room homey.

You put your two snow globes from the Winter Court on the mantle next to some other souvenirs you picked up from your travels. You even found stuff Az got from missions in a closet, adding it next to your stuff. A marble vase now sat on a low laying table in front of the hearth. And your pink fluffy arm chair sits across from Azriel’s velvet one.

When he helped you move it in he asked if you wanted to buy matching chairs to which you said no. You love the vast difference in style and want to keep it that way. You said mismatched items made his room feel homey. You wouldn’t say no to buying a carpet though.

A month later Azriel came home from a mission before dinner. He wanted a bath and a nap. Opening the door he found you snuggled up in his large arm chair, wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket reading a book.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the ridiculous amount of decorative pillows on the bed along with a new duvet, the plush doll from your childhood and the stuffed animal he got you.

You stared at him apprehensively, not knowing if he’ll be happy with this drastic change of color. You never wanted to disturb his space but you couldn’t have the bed so bare. It made you sad.

Azriel walked over to the bed running a scared hand across the white fluffy duvet. His hazel eyes finally met yours and relief flooded your features. Azriel is smiling at the new change. “It’s like your apartment. I loved everything in there, it was homey. I’m glad you got this.” You clapped your hands in excitement, “Yay! Oh and you’re going to love the bathroom. I got new products and added a few candles. Oh! And new towels!”

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips as you led him into the bathroom to point out what you purchased.

——

While Azriel was in his meeting with Rhys you were cuddled up in your chair waiting for him to come back. You had been sitting in his lap while he worked and desperately wanted his warmth back. Now that winter had settled in you were constantly shivering.

Another chill runs down your spine as you unwrapped the blanket from your shoulders. Padding across the bedroom you head down to the kitchen for some hot chocolate, leaving the door ajar.

Cassian whistled while walking down the hall to his room. He glanced sideways into you and Azriel’s room, stepping a few more paces Cassian freezes quickly, turning around and rushing back to poke his head in. The Generals jaw drops as he takes in the brightness of his brother’s room.

He was never really allowed in Azriel’s room. His brother liked to keep his life private and Cassian respects that. However…the door is open and he isn’t going to miss his one opportunity to look around. After finding the pink sheets, the flowery soaps, and vanilla candles Cassian smirked to himself as he took one last look around before leaving.

Turning to face the doorway he jumped at the sight of Azriel. His shadows flowing angrily around his shoulders and an unpleasant look on his face. “What are you doing in here?” Az asks in a dark yet oddly calm tone. Cassian began to stumble over his words trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t get Truthteller chucked at his head.

Azriel moved swiftly, grabbing Cassian by the collar of his leathers. “This is me and my mates room. So why are you in here?” He asked again with a more gruff voice. “I-“

“Az?” Your voice breaks him from his anger with Cassian. Your mate whips around to face you, letting go of Cass. “Hi my love. I was just asking Cass what he’s up to.” “Oh,” you say tilting your head curiously. “What do you think of the new room Cass?” You smile up at him hopeful.

“Uumm,” Azriel nudged him. A reminder that if he was rude Azriel would kill him. “I love it.” He says genuinely. “I always thought Az could use some more color and fluffy stuff in his life.” Cassian shoots Azriel a shit eating grin that you miss as you go to put down your mug on the table.

Still looking at Azriel, Cassian continues speaking, “I love the contrast between Azriel’s weapons just layin’ around and your pink sheets.” Azriel pushes Cassian out, slamming the door in his face. Cassian’s howling laughter reaches your ears through the thick wood.

You give Azriel a questioning look. “He had to leave, things to do and all that.” Az says. You nod and giggle seeing through his silly little lie.

“I’m still really cold, can I sit on your lap again?” You give him a small pout which Azriel melts at. “Always my love. I could never let you be cold.” Az sits in his arm chair holding up your fuzzy blanket, ready to wrap you in it. You settle into his embrace and he leaves small kisses across your forehead. If you two could stay like this all day you would be content.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

cold nights // part sixteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.3k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i am so excited for you guys to see everything I've got coming up for this series- ah!! also, should i post the masterlist for requiem soon?? i can't post the first part just yet, but i'm excited ab it so let me know if you guys want to see that to be able to get the vibes and stuff!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Hello there, Miss." Coryo grins at you, extending his arm to you to hold as you step out of your house and close the door behind you.

You pretend not to see, reaching down to retie your shoe which was already laced up perfectly. "Hi." You reply quietly, and his smile fades. You already seem in weaker spirits than you were this afternoon.

"Did you enjoy your nap?" He asks as you stand up straight again, making your way down the front path of your house to the street and he follows like a stray dog.

You turn when you reach the road, looking at him only briefly. "I did. Thank you." You mumble, unable to make extended eye contact without your heart beating out of your chest. It was hard to tell if you were awake or asleep when he was around.

"That's good." He nods, joining your side. He's there to walk you to The Hob, but he honestly was relying more on you to guide the way.

You don't say anything, walking with your arms crossed carefully, protectively across your midsection.

Coryo is worried, but he does know that you don't want to walk alone at night, so he tries to convince himself it's just that. Not him.

"You, uhm, you look nice." He tells you, taking notice of your change of clothes. It was refreshing to see you in something other than that short dress with the sewn-in shorts, though with the longer skirts you had worn today, it covered much more of your skin. Part of him missed the short dress that was now most definitely unwearable. It was your favourite, he remembered.

"Thank you." You say back, the hair on your arms pricking up from the chill that was starting to settle in. It wasn't a cold night, you didn't think, but colder than Twelve often saw in mid-August. Maybe it was just you. "You do, as well."

He laughs, and you look at him for the first time tonight. His blue eyes shine with the reflection of the sunset, and you're no longer cursing yourself for trusting him to walk you this afternoon. He wouldn't hurt you, and you knew that. Stupid dreams. Stupid nightmares. He saved you- he's the only reason you're alive today, you're certain.

"We're trying to blend in, Sejanus thought we were scaring people." He explains, laughter subsiding.

You smile at him. "I was going to say, that style doesn't feel like your own." You giggle. "But I like it."

"Why, thank you." He grins, tugging on the front of his white t-shirt as if he was adjusting a suit jacket.

Your dreams were just dreams. If he had that evil in him, could you live with it? That was what you had to figure out. Right now, though, with you, that darkness was nowhere to be seen. You were awake. You must be.

"How has Twelve been treating you so far?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious of his impression of your home as your feet crunch over the gravel path beneath you.

"Okay." Coryo shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It was hard to find someone to talk to us long enough to get a lead on where to find you."

"People tend to keep to themselves." You explain. "Also looking for me is an odd request."

"Why?"

Now it was your turn to shrug. "No one really wants to talk to me now, either." The stares you got were seemingly endless. People would stare, point, whisper, and it didn't particularly bother you, but you hated that maybe people were afraid. You feared that everyone thought the games turned you into something fragile, and they were scared of upsetting you with the wrong words or the alternative; you were a weapon ready to explode at any moment.

"That's because people are careless and cruel." Coryo replies, no hesitation behind his tone. "And they have no way of understanding... you."

"They're good people, honestly, I just-"

"I know that." He assures you, sensing your panic. "But it's not your place to prove to them who you are. Changed or not."

"Do you think I have changed?" You ask, genuinely curious despite the softness of your voice.

Coryo is quiet for a moment. "I would say no," He looks at you as you walk alongside him. "but you have, I think. There's more to you, now."

You chew on your lip, watching your steps as you pass under the streetlights.

He watches your reaction, nervous when you don't respond. "I don't mean that in a bad way." He clarifies. "To me, you're still you." He wants to tell you you're less naive, more experienced, that it will keep you safe, but he feels as though that wouldn't be the right thing to say. "But it's impossible to walk out of that arena the same person. We have that in common."

The flickering street lamps illuminate the blush on your cheeks for just a moment. "Thank you, Coryo. That means a great deal."

"Of course." He hums, walking close enough now to just brush your arm with his own.

Your heart leaps in your chest, from fear or excitement you aren't sure- but you're grateful to be able to finally hear the music coming from The Hob as you approach the rundown building.

There's nowhere else you would want to be any less than The Hob during one of Lucy Gray's shows. You loved her, The Covey, the beautiful and fun music they made together, but since you'd been home, it had been impossible to enjoy yourself there.

You didn't even try until tonight.

Your fears came true. Almost as soon as you and Coriolanus walked in, scattered eyes were on you. You could feel it like pricks in your skin. It didn't help that you were with a stranger. People were dancing, drinking, laughing, but you couldn't help but feel like the laughs were directed at you. Certainly, some staring was.

Coryo looks down at you, seeing your hands still gripped onto your own arms, holding yourself together. He wasn't great with crowds, and seemingly neither were you. His urge was to retreat to the nearest wall, and so was yours. "Let's see if we can track down Sejanus." He offers, holding his arm out behind you while he looks around.

He doesn't want to touch you for fear of making things weird, but god, would it just be so easy to slip his arm around your waist and guide you more effectively.

"There." He almost doesn't hear you over the music and the shouting surrounding you both, but he follows your finger as you point over to the bar, leaning down closer in case you speak again.

Sure enough, Sejanus is there chatting with some local guy. Coryo sighs. "I leave him for twenty minutes..." He chuckles, shaking his head. "I'll get him, are you okay to wait here?" He asks and you nod, giving him that smile of yours that he hasn't seen all night.

"Good. I'll be right back." He promises, stepping away and through the crowd to go get your friend.

You watch him go, but your attention is drawn when someone pushes past you rather abruptly which makes you jump. The girl looks at you like you're crazy, as you expected she would, so pulling yourself together again, you find an empty table by the side wall and go to sit down. This was too much for you already; you knew that before you even walked in the door, but you were just here to see your friends. Coryo would come back, Sejanus would be with him, and Lucy Gray would sing her songs while you laughed and talked like normal people do. As soon as they returned, it would be okay.

You keep your head down until you hear them bickering over the normal sounds of the bar.

"We're not here to make friends, Sejanus, we're here to-"

"No, no, I get that, but what's the harm?"

You smile at them, taking a shaky breath. "Welcome back."

"Y/N!" Sejanus grins, looking at Coryo briefly before taking the seat across from you. "Glad you could make it."

"Me too." You nod, avoiding looking at Coryo as he takes the spot standing next to you, considering there wasn't another seat.

"Here," He says, voice low in your ear as he holds a glass out to you. "Got you a drink."

"Oh, thank you." You mumble, blushing as you take it from his hand. You can't think of anything worse than being intoxicated and vulnerable in this environment, but the gesture was nice. You wouldn't deny him that.

He rests his arm on the back of your chair, leaning on it and you rest your arms on the table so you can place the glass down as you look at Sejanus. "Tell me more, what have you been up to?" You ask, desperate for some conversation to distract yourself.

"Well, we graduated." Sejanus answers, nodding toward the boy standing beside you.

"Oh, gosh, congratulations!" You smile, looking between the two of them. Coryo is stone-faced.

"I sent you an invitation." He says into the rim of his glass, looking down at you.

"Oh?" You ask, and Sejanus nods in confirmation.

"We were hoping you'd be able to make it. We were going to come get you." He explains, and Coryo lets the glass scrape against his teeth. It was his invitation that he sent, and he was the one who offered to come get you. Sejanus had nothing to do with it besides encouraging him to actually send the letter.

"I didn't- I didn't get it." You tell them honestly, brow furrowed. "I don't know if I could have... gone back, you know, but I would have at least sent a gift, or something. I am so sorry."

Coryo raises an eyebrow. "You didn't get it?" He asks, almost relieved by the idea.

"No, nothing."

"Oh. Well, nothing could be done then, I suppose." He shrugs it off. Maybe if you truly hadn't received the invite, you haven't received any of the letters he sent. Someone along the route to the address he used decided you weren't worth looking for, and that wasn't your fault. Lucy Gray had told him as much, but he trusted it more falling from your lips.

"Truly, though, I am so sorry I couldn't be there." You say, looking between the two of them with a newfound urgency. You didn't want them to resent you, especially if they thought they had been ignored. "I didn't know, honest."

"Don't worry about it." Sejanus assures you. "We didn't want to be there either."

"But I did, I would have loved to but it's just hard to get out of Twelve and I wouldn't have anywhere to stay and like I said I'm just not ready to go back but I really would have loved to be able to be there for you."

"Y/N, hey..." Coryo chuckles, leaning down again to be face-to-face with you. "We get it. We're not upset with you, I promise."

Promise. The two of you were always making promises to each other, apparently. It made you feel better and he knew that.

"O-okay..." You nod slowly, deciding now is as good a time as any to try your drink. You turn your face from him, having been just inches apart to take a sip. Beer was far from your favourite, but you were never much of a drinker anyway. You place the glass back down and smooth out your skirt over your lap, regaining your normal grin. "Well, Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything."

"Very good point." Coriolanus agrees quickly, tapping his hand on the back of your chair. The smile that crosses your face when you look up at him, thinking he understood and cared to respond makes him want to collapse in on himself and sink into the floor. You deserved so much more than being elated when someone understood you, and he could give you everything if you would just trust him.

"Y/L/N, how dare you show your face here!" A voice calls you by your last name and you snap your head in their direction.

Coryo furrows his brow, watching warily as a boy about his age walks up to your table. He's ready to step in, maybe this is why you hadn't been coming- because people, boys had been harassing you. He should have seen that coming. You were beautiful, every time he looked at you it was hard to look away again- obviously, this kind of attention would be a common occurrence. He lifts his shoulders and puts down his drink, but he looks at you and you're smiling.

"Hi." You giggle, actually giggle- and it makes Coryo almost just as angry as if this random guy had just threatened you.

He leans his elbows against the table. "Been a long time since I seen you. How you been?" He asks, sipping his beer as he makes dead eye contact with you.

"Only a couple of days, River." You grin.

"Oh yeah, that's right..." He hums. "Been real interested in that book you let me borrow, you know."

"Have you?" You smile, leaning in with excitement, ready to discuss it.

Who was this guy? A friend? Something more? The way you were looking at him, the fact that you let him borrow one of your books made envy swirl in Coryo's stomach. He hated it. He clears his throat to remind you they were there before you got sucked into talking about whatever book you gave the boy.

"Oh." You look up at him. "River, this is-"

"Yeah, who are these clowns? Botherin' you?" He interrupts you, and Coryo is more peeved about that than the fact that he was just referred to as a clown.

"Not in the slightest." You hum. "These are my friends, Sejanus and Coryo. They came all the way from the Capitol just to visit me, isn't that sweet?"

"Ah..." The boy hums, standing back up and holding a hand out for Sejanus to shake before turning to Coryo as he keeps his grip on the back of your chair. "Nice to meet you both, then."

"It's Coriolanus." He corrects you as he shakes the boy's hand, squeezing it probably more than what is polite.

"Oh wow." River's eyes widen and he chuckles, looking down at you again. "You're not really the friendly type I guess. Y/N here can make friends with just about anyone, I suppose."

"River..." You frown, shaking your head at him. Coryo clenches his jaw.

"I'm sorry! Sorry, I'm not great with new people either. That's my bad." He laughs it off, patting Coryo's shoulder as he drops his hand. "Anyway, Y/N, I didn't expect to see you out and about. Holdin' up okay?"

"I'm well. Thank you." You nod, taking another sip of your drink. River was a good friend, maybe even a great one. He works with your father in the mines, he started as soon as he turned eighteen a few months before you. You've become closer since then.

"Glad to hear it." He nods at you, looking around the crowded room. He bottoms his drink, shaking it in your face. "Time for a refill so I'm gonna leave ya be, but shout if you need anything, alright sweetheart?"

"Thank you!" You call after him as he turns to walk off, winking at you.

"Sweetheart." Coryo mumbles into his glass with a slight shake of his head as he watches the boy walk away. You didn't hear him, and he wasn't sure he wanted you to.

"Who's that?" Sejanus asks. "He seems nice."

"We went to school together, now he works with my father," You explain. "but I've known him most of my life. He's very kind, just a little... outspoken. He'll always tell you what he's thinking." You chuckle, and Coryo bites his tongue.

You catch his expression of disapproval. "He didn't mean any harm, just trying to be welcoming. He was nervous, I could tell." Returning your gaze to Lucy Gray up on the stage, you smile and give her a quick wave. She smiles back, nodding at you.

"You never mentioned him." Coryo comments.

"Well, I..." You stop yourself, staring down at your lap. "I had a lot on my mind..."

"Do you know anyone else? Give us the tour." Sejanus suggests quickly, pointing around the room.

You smile, forcing yourself to ignore your worries about how Coryo is feeling. "Almost everyone, yes." You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand as you speak.

"Is that why you didn't want to come?" Coryo asks you and you look up at him again, smile faltering.

"I- It's not that I didn't want to." You answer, fidgeting now with the fabric in your lap. "I just... I don't know. It's hard to... I don't know. Everything feels so difficult these days..." You laugh nervously.

There's that word he was so afraid of. Hard. In reference to something as simple as going out and spending time with your peers- people you had clearly considered friends before the games. It seemed like another lifetime to you, he could see it in the way you so intensely watched yourself pick at your own fingernails. He wished while laying in his bed at night that you were happy here, that your life was normal, even if he couldn't be a part of it; but that was unrealistic and part of him knew that.

"It's okay." Coryo reminds you quickly. "You don't have to explain yourself to us." He smiles, trying to be reassuring. "If you want to leave we can go. Just say the word, Y/N/N."

You shake your head, looking back up at him with that same glowing smile that subtly begs him not to worry about you- but he has to. "It's completely okay." You assure him with a quick wave of your hand. "Okay, so..." You drum your fingers on the tabletop, looking around and attaching names to faces.

"That's Sienna, I went to school with her sister." You point over to a girl in a group of a few others. "And she's with Fern and Hazel, Hazel's the one with the light hair." The boy's eyes follow where you're pointing as you look over at another group. "Oh, and over with River, the taller boy next to him is Rowan." You explain. "His little brother is friends with mine. Then over there, by the stage is Billy Taupe- that's Lucy Gray's boyfriend. Kind of, they're on and off these days."

Coryo nods, trying to commit these names to memory. He didn't plan on speaking to any of them, but if you wanted to, which he doubted, he would try.

"And that's-" Your voice cuts out so quick it's as if someone had slapped a hand over your mouth when another boy walked up to join the two standing by the bar. Quickly Coryo is looking down at you again as the blood drains steadily from your face. You cough, shaking your head. "Uh, I don't really know anyone else's names." You lie.

"You okay?" Sejanus asks you and you nod, quickly grabbing your glass and taking a few large gulps, the foul taste of beer forcing its way down your throat.

"Yeah, just, I haven't seen these people in a while."

Coryo watches, jaw clenched tight as River converses with the blonde boy who just walked up to him and your other friend whose name he's already forgotten. River takes a swig from his drink, laughs as he puts the glass down on the bar, and then points over to the three of you. He was telling whoever the hell that was that you were there- and clearly you weren't keen on him.

"Let's go, yeah?" Coryo suggests quickly, abandoning his drink on the table to step in front of you. He extends his hand to help you up which you gratefully take. He could feel your hand trembling in his.

He squeezes your hand gently, still shielding you from the group of boys. You didn't need to say a word. "Sejanus, I'm going to take Y/N home, are you okay here?"

"For sure." He nods, looking worried now at the very sudden shift in your energy and Coryo's clear protectiveness. "Do you want me to come?"

"No, no. It's okay." You smile, comforted by Coryo's presence behind you. "You stay and have fun."

"Alright, well, I'll see you soon?" He smiles and you nod, but Coryo is already guiding you away.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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moonchildstyles · 7 months

Text

lily of the valley

oleander final part: y/n never pictured that her night would end like this.

wordcount: 16.2k+

cw: lots of talk ab blood and the consumption of blood! some descriptions of people who have passed away, but thats really it!

—————

(Y/N) stood behind the apothecary counter, chin resting in her palm with her eyes gazing out the window. The rain had returned last night, bringing with it a lingering fog and cloudy sky. Barely anyone was out and about, leaving (Y/N) feeling as if she were the only soul left in the village. The same way she had felt since leaving the castle and ghosting through the world without anyone the wiser to what she had learned that night.

The last week had been one of wandering thoughts and conflicting dreams. More than once, she had woken in a cold sweat, a flashing nightmare of Harry hovering over her, his mouth full of sharp teeth and blood. She would wake with her heart in her throat and lungs tight, but the only thing that could calm her was the thought of Harry himself comforting her. She would replay a fantasy of him coaxing her down from her fright, those concerned eyes and gentle touch helping draw her in.

Soon enough, as the days packed on, those nightmares were few and far between, leaving (Y/N) with only questions and intrigue replacing her initial fear. Distance and time from him allowed the memories of his care to rise to the surface; his promise of never bringing her any harm and the actions to back it up were at the forefront of her mind.

He had said they would see one another soon, after enough time had passed to allow her to wrap her head around it all. (Y/N) was beginning to itch for that time to come sooner rather than later.

As if someone had been listening into her thoughts, a familiar bone white horse emerged through the fog, looking more phantom than animal. The rider had long dark hair and pale features. It was Harry's footman—Mitchell.

He was the one that hadn't learned his self-control yet. (Y/N) stiffened at the thought.

The horse was guided right to the apothecary where Mitchell hopped off the stead and tied the reins to the latch outside of the shop. (Y/N) didn't know how to keep her eyes away now that she knew what he was.

The similarities to Harry only increased as she looked at him through a different lens. They were both impossibly graceful, lacking any flaw. Mitchell moved with a restrained strength, as if he were holding back with every movement causing him to look almost mechanical. She wondered if Harry was always holding back in the same way, but had mastered the art of blending in.

There was no hesitancy this time when he came in. Stepping over the floorboards, he still lacked any real show of presence as nothing creaked under him or rattled around his weight. His sharp eyes landed on her immediately.

"Ms. (Y/N)," he greeted with a nod, his voice low and clipped. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a familiar, opulent envelope. The last time she had seen one of these was when her father had thrown the piece into the furnace, effectively banning her from going to Harry's home. "From Harry," he murmured, passing off the piece. He took great care in ensuring their skin didn't brush.

"Thank you," she answered, a small smile on her lips, "Mitchell."

This time, she didn't wait for the footman to leave before she was breaking the wax seal and opening the flap to the letter. Inside was a simple letter, written out in curling letters on elaborate stationary.

My dearest, (Y/N),

I hope I am not asking for too much to see you again so soon. I know we had agreed on coming together so I may offer answers to any and all questions you have, but if you would prefer to no longer see one another, I understand. If that is the case, tell Mitchell as much and I will no longer contact you if that will make you the most comfortable.

If you are still open to seeing me again, I would like to invite you back to my home. I will arrange for the carriage to ferry you up here, and we will spend the evening discussing whatever you please. If you'll have me.

I hope to hear from you again soon.

Yours,

Harry xx

Just as she finished skimming her eyes over the text, she saw Mitchell out of the corner of her eye attempting to flee just as silently as he had before.

"Wait," she said, stopping him in his tracks before he could push open the door.

He moved stiffly to face her, his dark eyes clear. "Yes?"

"Hold on," she floundered, searching the counter for the steel pen and inkwell she had stored under the podium. "If I put my response on here, could you take it back to him, please?"

Mitchell gave a single nod of agreement.

This letter had been exactly what she was hoping she would see today. The small correspondence sparked those dimming memories of Harry she had been treasuring every night before bed. She could hear the words in his voice, see his pinched features and worried brow.

The only problem she found within the lines was his choice of location. She didn't have the confidence to stage another sneak out in the middle of the night, not trusting herself to keep silent and away from prying eyes so soon after the last time. While she had done a well enough job, no one having approached her about anything they could have seen that night, she didn't trust that she could do it as well this next time when she had more nerves working against her.

He would have to come to her.

With her writing nowhere near as glamorous as his, she wrote out:

I would love to see you again. I can't go back to your home so soon, I'm sorry. Come to me this time.

I will leave my window open tonight and tomorrow. I will be on the lookout for you, and I will let you in through the shop door when I see you're here.

Her letters looked like sloppy black slashes against his own curling script, but (Y/N) couldn't think much about her handwriting before she was folding up the page and replacing it in the gilded envelope.

"Thank you," she said, handing the correspondence back to Mitchell.

She expected him to stay in line with his persona, silently taking the page before he would ghost through the shop and disappear in the night. However, when he lingered after removing the letter from her grasp, she flicked her gaze up to find him looking at her with intensity in his earnest eyes.

"Thank you," he insisted, unwavering in his eye contact.

(Y/N) didn't have to ask where his gratitude was coming from. He knew that she was now aware of his condition, but there hadn't been even a single whisper of such through the village.

"Of course," she offered, a quiet smile on her lips. "Hopefully, I will see you again sometime soon."

For the first time she had seen, the stoic mask Harry's footman always seemed to carry showed its first crack. The very corner of his lips turned upwards in a smile.

"I am sure we will."

With that, he took the now altered letter and placed it for safekeeping in his jacket pocket. He left the apothecary as if he were but a phantom passing through. The only trace of his presence was the bone white horse (Y/N) could barely spot disappearing through the fog.

—————

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) pulled in a resigning sigh.

Harry wasn't coming.

The sun had gone down hours ago, inducing both her father's bedtime and the rest of the village's. Even the pub wasn't garnering the kind of crowd that usually haunted those halls. This was the perfect night for him to visit. No one would even notice him and she could easily sneak him upstairs with the cover of the night and her father's heavy sleeping.

She had diligently waited just as her response said, with her window cracked open to allow any noise to filter through and her eyes periodically scanning the space. Nothing more than a few bugs fluttering through her herb garden and the bright eyes of a familiar cat could be seen in the dark.

If he was coming tonight, he would have already been here. (Y/N) sunk heavier into her thin mattress at the thought.

Another hour—that's what he had left. Then, she would close her window and go to bed. She will try again tomorrow.

Just as her plan came together, she could hear her name being whispered in the night. Much closer than that of a bug skittering through her garden and too vivid to be a dream.

Her eyes shot open only to see her window shadowed by Harry's broad form. He was lacking a jacket and waistcoat, only clad in fitted black trousers and a billowing top in a matching hue. This late at night, his eyes and hair seemed to be of a coordinating shade, leaving his skin especially pale in comparison.

"Harry?!" she gasped, startling on her bed, "Wh—How did you—"

He looked over his shoulder in a quick whip of his head before he turned to her once more.

"I will explain in a moment, but I think I see one of your neighbours," he murmured, gesturing to her window with a nod of his chin. "May I please come in?"

(Y/N) scrambled at the thought of one of her neighbours catching Harry perched on the sloping roof of her home, right where her window was open. "Yes, yes," she rushed out, keeping her voice low as she moved towards her window, "Just—Come in before anyone sees you."

Curling her fingers under the pane, (Y/N) slid it open just enough for him to slip through. Taking a step back, she watched as he fluidly climbed through her window, not even a hair out of place. He landed on her floor without a single sound, turning back to shut the window after him.

She hadn't realized just how heavy her heart was beating until the vacuum of her bedroom was restored. She settled some though she kept her eyes fixed on the broad of Harry's shoulders.

"How did you get up there?" she breathed out, trying to picture how he would have made it to the ledge so soundlessly despite her open window.

Harry's answer came in the form of a sly look shot over his shoulder.

Oh.

"Right," she sounded. Another part of his whole existence that she had no idea about. More questions were added to her ongoing mental list.

Harry looked out of place in her tiny bedroom. He was broad and space-filling. He had a presence here among the mishmash of stuff that made up her home, though it was far from suffocating. Standing with his back to her window, his form appearing that much longer with the help of the single flame of candle light casting shadows around him. He looked around her room, a tiny smile sitting on his lips.

"Do you mind if I look around?" His voice was so pleasant and unrushed, it almost made (Y/N) forget the gravity of their meetup.

Nonetheless, confined to her spot before the end of her bed, she nodded her head.

She watched as Harry took in her space the same way she had taken in his: with curious awe. All of her small trinkets, childhood journals, gardening momentos, and memories of her mother were plotted about her room for him to graze his eyes over. His hands were twined behind his back as he wordlessly stepped through the space, eyes lighting up as he looked over the small shelf her father had nailed into the wall when she had finally received her own bedroom. There was a twitch to Harry's lips when he saw the various lengths of twine she had laying over her rickety bedside table; she always forgot she had one waiting before she had pulled another to tie her hair back.

Her room was nothing at all like his castle. While he lived in rich color, exquisite luxury, and vast amounts of space, she had the opposite. Everything was muted in her room, leave for the dried flowers and tiny splashes here and there amongst her things. Harry could cross the width of her room in three strides with the length being met within four. It was far from the standards he likely had. Despite the obvious differences, (Y/N) could see the shatters of green appearing in his eyes the longer he made himself at home in her room, his features softening and bones relaxing.

She hoped that meant he liked what he found.

Just when she thought he was planning on spending all night dissecting any and everything he could find in her bedroom, Harry finally turned on his heel, hands still clasped behind his back, to face her with a gentle smile.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me again," he told her, voice a low rumble, "Have you had time to think?"

Sitting on the end of her bed, she gave him a small nod. Her bottom lip fit between the blunt ends of her teeth, worrying the sensitive skin. "I have a lot of questions."

"I figured you would. I am an open book, (Y/N)," he affirmed, coming to stand just before her, "Anything you want to know, I will answer to the best of my ability."

(Y/N) could feel his eyes on her as she shuffled back on her bed, folding her legs underneath her with her nightgown falling around her form. "You can sit with me if you'd like" she offered, eyeing the empty space on her mattress for him.

Her heart bubbled in her chest at the realization that she was asking a man to her bed. She had been so occupied on learning her answers and ensuring no one saw them together in the dead of night, that she had completely forgotten the fact that she was alone in her bedroom with Harry. When she had come up with this plan, she hadn't given much thought to the fact that she was supposed to be worried about her reputation (or her safety, if she was considering the non-human aspects of him). The racing of her heartbeat increased that much more when he cautiously took up her offer and crawled onto the bed in front of her. In the back of her mind, she wondered just how terribly her bed stacked up against the velvet covered monstrosities he had in his own home.

"Thank you," he said, settling himself amongst the folds of her quilt. His observing gaze settled on her with rounded corners to his eyes. "How are you?" he asked, sincerity in his voice, "Have you been well since the last time we met?"

"I am well, yes," she answered, dropping her eyes to her lap where her hands fumbled with one another, "Just thinking and trying to figure everything out. And yourself?"

"I've been okay," he answered earnestly, "But, much better now. I'm glad to hear you've been alright; I have been worried I frightened you or been too much that last night."

(Y/N) canted her head. "I wouldn't say frightened, no, but I've been overwhelmed." She swallowed. "Confused."

"I understand; I felt the same way once, too," he sympathized, his tone tender, "What has troubled you the most?"

Peeking at him through her lashes, she swallowed around her suddenly dry throat.

"The—um—the bodies," she whispered, a pinch appearing by her brows, "You said that you haven't been the one doing... that recently, but you had in the past. What did you mean?"

Just as troubling as it was for her to ask that question, it appeared Harry had the same issue answering it.

"I..." he started, cutting himself off before he could get very far with his mouth settling into a grim line. "There was a time right after I had... become what I am now, that I was not myself. I was confused, scared, and unable to think rationally. All I knew was that I was hungry. The food I could find made me terribly ill, and no amount of water, or wine, or anything could quench my thirst. I could only have that."

While (Y/N) felt as if she already had the answer she was asking for, she couldn't help but to pose her question anyway.

"What do you mean, that?"

Harry dropped his gaze from hers when he answered. "Blood."

Her fingers were a nervous bundle in her lap before her body stilled like the dead at his answer. The memory of the corpse she had found, bloodless and pale like snow, reentered her mind.

"Y-You drink it?"

"Yes."

Her heart hammered against her ribs, though the feeling made her think only of the blood rushing through her veins.

She must have sat there silent for too long, she realized when Harry piped up, feeling the need to mend the shock he had given her.

"It's not something I want to do, (Y/N)," he started, choosing his words carefully, "It is the only way I can continue living, but please believe me when I say that I have not committed those kinds of atrocities in almost one hundred years. The second I learned that I could survive off of animals, that's what I started doing. I haven't done anything like what has been happening since."

As uncomfortable as she felt, thinking about Harry drinking any kind of blood or taking any kind of life, she could live with the fact that he was choosing animals over those of her village. She had to eat too, and while she would have loved to keep every animal alive and frolicking around, she had to do what she had to do as well. She couldn't judge him too harshly.

"But, Mitchell. He doesn't know yet?" she asked, thinking back to the man with the long hair and ghostly demeanor.

Harry sighed, the same kind of sigh her father used to give when her sister was too stubborn for her own good. "He does know, but it is a hard transition. He wants to change, but he cannot always contain himself should an easy opportunity present itself. I am trying to teach him how to work past those urges, but it is taking longer than either of us would like." He dropped his head then. "I am sorry for what you have seen and what he has done when he is not able to think. I live with the guilt just as much as he does, but we are getting better everyday. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive both him and I."

(Y/N) pursed her lips. "I don't like it, but I can understand," she offered on a delicate breath. Truthfully, Mitchell sounded like a child: impulsive and taking steps forward before taking just the same amount back. "We all do things we are not proud of. I hope he can learn from this soon, and give these families peace."

"He will," Harry cemented, "I am going to make sure of it."

A beat of silence sat between them as she rifled through her head to decide on her next question. "Pardon me if this is inconsiderate to ask," she prefaced, "But, is your... condition the reason both you and Mitchell are so... pale?"

A genuine grin stretched across Harry's lips at her words. His laughter was a quiet huff from between his lips. "I would think so, yes," he told her, likely grateful for the easier line of questioning, "Every other vampyr I have met, we all tend to be on the paler side, lacking that life in our skin."

It was an odd thing, hearing him talk about all of the others he had met. She couldn't help but to wonder if Harry really was the first she had ever encountered without even realizing. "Is that why you are cold, as well?"

"Am I?" he asked, tipping his head to the side with a crease between his brows, "I suppose I've never really noticed. Though, the few times you have allowed me to touch you, you are so pleasantly warm I should have figured as much."

"You think I'm warm?" she asked, feeling a small sense of pride hit her chest. It was entirely silly to feel flattered over a comment about the temperature of her skin, but she couldn't help herself. She was a simple girl, at the end of the day.

"Very much so," Harry affirmed, dimples pressing into his cheeks as she smiled at her, "You are like the sun to me."

Now she definitely couldn't bite back her smile, dropping her head to watch her fumbling hands pluck at the seams of her nightgown. "The sun?"

"The very one," Harry teased, "Though I haven't felt the sun since I changed, I imagine the rays feeling like your touch."

"You haven't felt the sun?" (Y/N) blanched, a set of questions hitting her that she hadn't even considered, "But I've seen you outside?"

Harry gave her a pointed look, "Only on cloudy days. I learned the hard way a long time ago, but I now burn under the sunlight. It's a rather frightening experience, if I'm honest."

"You burn?" (Y/N) pressed, suddenly scanning her eyes down his form as if she could pick out any marks or scars upon his skin.

"As if I have touched fire," Harry grimly detailed, "But, I am lucky enough that because of what I am, my skin mends itself. I can't remember the last time I have had any kind of injury without an instant recovery or even fallen ill."

A new lens fell over (Y/N)'s gaze as she looked at him. Harry was always strong in her eyes, both physically and in the way carried himself so regally despite the swirling rumor mill. Now, though, the descriptor had an entirely new meaning. No wonder he was so flawless—there was nothing in this world that could even blemish him.

He was the perfect predator—and protector.

"You don't remember anything about the night you changed?" (Y/N) asked, mimicking the language he had been using himself.

He didn't even blink at her shift in conversation, instead furrowing his brow and canting his head as he threw his memory back.

"Not really," he mused, pursing his lips, "There are fuzzy bits and pieces I can recall, but nothing I can be sure of. Most of my life before is just as muddy, but I can remember a few things."

"So you don't know how you became this?" She couldn't imagine going to bed one way and waking up another, not a single idea as to what happened only knowing that she was not the same. No wonder Mitchell was struggling; how do you cope with something so overwhelmingly monumental?

"I don't know my story, but I do know how vampyrs can be made." He flicked his gaze to her as if to gauge her reaction, scanning for any minute change in expression. When he didn't see anything more than a curious blink, he cautiously continued. "There are three different things that can happen when we bite"—(Y/N) tried her best not to blanch at the blunt word—"someone. One is the kind that we use solely when we are eating, of course. That kind usually includes the end of a life." His own tone grew solemn at this example, that guilt he spoke of resurfacing, though (Y/N) appreciated his honesty. "We can make another vampyr in a similar way, though before the end, we have to have the control to stop. I do not know how it happens exactly, but there is something that changes humans and makes them like me. It can take time, but it can happen."

"Have you ever... made someone?"

Harry shook his head. "I've never considered making someone like that—it's too risky in my eyes."

(Y/N) slowly nodded her head, taking in all of the information she was learning. It was hard to think she was only in her bedroom, and not in some fantasy world that had violently merged with her own. "You said there's a third kind of... bite?"

"There is one more," he told her, sounding somewhat hesitant as he started, "It is called a Blood Bond. It is usually something that is shared between people that are intending to devote themselves to one another."

"How do they do that?" (Y/N) was intrigued now. This whole thing—being a vampyr—sounded so solitary, she didn't even think that there could be something like this within their culture. A union.

"They have to bite one another," Harry answered vaguely, "and share blood. Usually at the neck."

"And, it's like a marriage?" she pressed, trying to merge the concept with something familiar. Nonetheless, it was hard to picture her sister's wedding ending with she and her husband snapping at each other's throats.

"Something like that," Harry shrugged, "A bit more binding, though."

A troubling thought struck (Y/N) then. "Have you ever...?"

Harry all but blanched at her words. He shook his head immediately. "No, never. Mitchell is the only person I've ever kept in my life for longer than a month."

While she hated the thought of Harry being alone, solitary in his castle overlooking the village, there was a selfish part of her that keened at the thought that he had never devoted himself to anyone.

"How long have you known Mitchell?" (Y/N) rolled on. She wanted to get a picture of Harry's existence, even if she didn't completely understand the details yet.

A small smile plucked at the corners of his mouth then. "You really are quite curious, aren't you?"

Sheepishly dropping her gaze from his, she lifted her own shoulders in a small shrug. "It is alright if you'd rather not answer anymore, I know I can ask a lot at times. I do not wish to bother you or anything."

"No, no," Harry rushed, impulsively dropping his hand to land on her nightgown-covered knee, "Please, you are not bothering me. I love your curiosity. I told you: I am happy to answer anything you have for me. I want you to know me."

Matching her gaze to his, (Y/N) couldn't deny the genuine sincerity she found swimming in his irises. Refractions of crystal green had appeared in the pitch black, giving the look of a moonlit forest. There was a warmth to his expression, giving him the illusion of life with the dimples in his cheeks and the dazzling smile on his lips.

She couldn't imagine being anywhere, but here.

—————

"What happened after that?"

Harry directed his gaze towards the ceiling, searching the air for the rest of the story that lay in his head.

"Nothing too eventful, really," he mused, "I suppose that was when I started focusing on blending back in with the world. I felt comfortable in my control and wanted to stop hiding away so profusely—plus, I was beyond bored with my own company. Brooding can only fill so much time."

(Y/N) let out a tittering laugh at his words, leaning that much closer to Harry.

As he spoke about his life, telling her of all of the things he had seen, people he had met, and the details that made him up, the space between them had slowly dissipated until Harry was laying at her side. The longer they talked, the easier it was to grow closer and more comfortable sharing space. (Y/N) had even twisted until she was laying beside him, flat on her stomach with him on his back, hands folded over his stomach.

This close, she could practically count the lashes lining his eyes, the faint set of freckles that dusted his skin. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what he had looked like when he was human. Did he have perpetually flushed cheeks? Were his eyes always green, or just as dark as they were now? When he was cold, did the chill show on the tip of his nose?

She didn't allow herself long to wonder over those questions. Harry as it he was in front of her was enough—more than enough, really.

"Was that hard?" she asked, her voice a low whisper as if she was conspiring with him in the dead of night, "Trying to be human again?"

"At times, yes," he mused, his eyes on the ceiling as he found his thoughts, "Humans, without realizing it, will pick up on the things that make me different and avoid me out of survival—even when I mean no harm. It is hard to feel normal when that happens."

Laying her cheek down on her pillow, admiring him as her head sunk into the down, a frown plucked at her lips. She could imagine him after trips down to the village, shopping and trying to socialize, though it was no secret the townspeople would rather him stay away. More and more she learned, the less Harry was a creature of the night with blood-stained teeth, and more a lonely soul adjusting to something he never asked for.

"I don't avoid you," she said, a quiet attempt to make him feel less alone.

She had the perfect view of the smile that stretched over his lips at her words, dimples and all. The bed dipped as he manueavered on her small bed, laying on his side to face her with his own cheek pressed to the same pillow. Her breath caught in her lungs. She'd only been this close to him once before, when he had traced his nose over the column of her throat just when she had seen his lack of reflection.

This time, she had nothing else to focus on. He was her everything right then, everything around him blurring out of focus.

"I know you don't," he responded to something she barely remembered saying, "And I feel so lucky every time I remember that. You are one of the few, (Y/N), that hasn't run the other way. But those other times were never like this."

Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She loved the sound of her name in his voice. "Like us?"

"Yes, like us," he said, a rewarding smile on his lips for her, "While it concerns me that you seem to lack any real survival instincts, I am grateful that you are not scared of me." His eyes glazed over her features, taking everything about her in as she held onto each word. "I have been drawn to you for longer than I have been able to admit to myself. Every minute we spend together means something that I cannot fully express."

"Drawn to me?" she peeped, her blood bubbling under her skin.

Harry looked sheepish now, the way he flicked his eyes to her before letting them fall. She wondered, if he was the same as her, if there would be a flush to his cheeks, and a pounding in his chest. "You've intrigued me for a very long time, before we even started speaking in passing. I have made excuses to come down to the village, shopping with you when I didn't really need anything. Even though you didn't mean it, you made me feel less alone."

Tentatively, (Y/N) reached out a hand, her fingers holding a small tremor before she placed her palm on his chest. The chill of his skin could be felt through his shirt, leaving goosebumps on her arm. The slight cold was worth it when she saw Harry all but melt at her touch. She really must feel that warm to him.

"I have always been very interested in you, too," she murmured, unable to meet his gaze should that give away the exact feelings she was trying to say, "I never understood why anyone would try to gossip or say anything about you. I guess they aren't too far off, though—those rumors."

Peeking through her lashes, (Y/N) held a smile on her lips as she hoped her tease would land. When Harry huffed out a breath of laughter, his hand landing on her own on his chest, holding her fingers snug, her own grin grew three sizes.

"I suppose not," he smiled, pulsing his hand around hers.

Gazing at him, (Y/N) could nearly count the amount of green shatters floating to the surface of the pools of black. Everything about him was clear and steady, unwavering. "Thank you for coming tonight," she started, "My initial reaction was overwhelming, and I apologize for that. I would never want you to think that I felt the same way as the others or that you frightened me enough to never see you again."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, ducking his head until he was directly before her, the tip of his nose just barely missing her own, "I am sorry that I didn't assure you enough that you were safe with me and had nothing to worry about. I was planning on telling you myself, I was only waiting until I knew how to say it without using the wrong words."

"I think you've done alright," she smiled. If she blinked, would their lashes tangle together, or would she need to be just a bit closer for that?

"You have such a power over me, (Y/N)," Harry told her earnestly, his eyes swimming in devotion with his tone tinted in worship.

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) wondered if anyone had ever felt like she did in her bed right then. Did her mother ever feel this way for her father? Did her blood ever burn for him the way (Y/N)'s seemingly did for Harry? Did her sister ever feel her lungs squeeze and heart batter her ribs when looking at her husband? Did Mr. and Mrs. Wayfield feel their skin crawl with the need to join one another?

Or was (Y/N) the first?

Had everyone felt this way before, or had she invented the idea of falling in love right then?

It was impulsive, reputation-ruining, and entirely unladylike the way she surged forward and pressed her lips to his. If Harry had any inhibitions, he didn't show them with the way he reciprocated the contact in a heartbeat. Molding his lips to hers, he led her through the kiss. It was far from refined, (Y/N)'s lips clumsy and off centered but Harry didn't mind correcting her until his hand was holding her cheek steady and he was pushing and pulling with her moving in tandem.

Drawing away, (Y/N) pulled in a gasp. Her hand on his chest clenched the shirt covering his chest, nails raking along the planes of his muscles. Harry didn't offer her much of a reprieve before he was diving back in, the chill of his mouth feeling nonexistent with the heat that began coursing through her veins.

While she hadn't noticed it, Harry must have with the way he pulled away, allowing her suddenly aching lungs to take something in. He offered a smattering of kisses along her cheeks instead, affection pouring over every inch he could reach.

"I adore you, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping like the nectar from a flower deep into the marrow of her bones. "I will never get enough of you."

(Y/N) could only smile, a dreamy expression as she dipped her head back. A pleasant chill crept up her spine when Harry distributed his kisses down the column and over her thrumming pulse.

She could stay here forever. Never moving, never changing. Right here with Harry was her home.

"I wish I could stay," Harry murmured, responding to words she hadn't realized she said aloud, "But the sun will rise soon, and I believe you still need to sleep."

Drawing away, Harry righted her head with his hand on her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing her cheekbone. She wasn't sure if it was just her eyes or if it was truly there, but she swore there was color to his cheeks, a flush to his lips.

"I don't need to sleep," she countered, ready to dive back in.

Harry barely sated her with a single kiss pressed to her pout. "Yes you do," he insisted, "You are caring for your garden tomorrow, right? You need rest for that or you will be exhausted before you can finish."

For a moment, she hated that he knew anything about her and her routine. She didn't care for the sage or the rosemary or whatever she was meant to be pruning in the morning. She cared for who was in her bed.

"Don't look like that," he said, unable to keep himself from laying another kiss on her lips, "We will see each other again soon, I promise. I don't think I can wait very long, either."

"You can't stay any longer?" she asked, slowly releasing her hold on his shirt. From where she could see out her window, the sun was still down with the sky dark, but she figured Harry would know his limits and timings much better than she.

Glancing out the glass himself, she could see the gears turning in his head. "I can stay a little while longer. Until you fall asleep, yes?"

That was more than she could have wished for, truly. To fall asleep in his arms was the stuff of dreams.

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you."

Harry responded only by bundling her to his chest. While there was no heartbeat to compare to her own, nothing to beat in rhythm against her ribs, (Y/N) had never felt more comforted.

Sleep didn't take long, even when she had fought her tired eyes.

—————

(Y/N) shyly peeked through her lashes as she descended the narrow aisle between the church pews. For the third service in a row, her eyes met that of a dark figure seated in the last row. Harry flicked his gaze to hers for a heartbeat before he looked away, a conspiratorial smile on his mouth. She felt her skin warm as she followed her father out the church doors, rolling her lips between her teeth.

Ever since he had climbed through her window the first time weeks prior, Harry had been more involved in the village than ever. He had told her between breathless kisses in the quiet of her bedroom that he wanted to see more, that he could barely keep himself away—she was on his mind constantly. With going to his estate in the night wasn't always a smart option for her and her bedroom wasn't exactly easy to hide away in, he was going to find another way to see her. Since then, whenever the sun was shaded enough, he was ghosting among the village with a tendency to haunt the apothecary or anywhere else (Y/N) might have been. (She could only imagine the stack of lavender and tobacco bundles he had laying around his home with the amount of times he came in to shop with her). He had even started showing up for Sunday morning service for another chance to see her, despite neither of them particularly caring for the sermons.

Their moments were made up of subtlety with stolen glances and conspiratorial smiles, near silent conversations when no one was listening or the quiet confirmation that they were thinking of one another. They shared more secrets than she was sure anyone would even know what to do with.

She was the only one who knew the real him amongst the chatter, and she was the only person in the world who knew what it was like to kiss her. And, no one had any idea.

No one had seen the way he slipped scraps of notes into her hand when she passed off his herbs. No one else noticed the way they gravitated towards one another during the after church gathering at the pub. No one knew that he slipped in through her window most nights or how a letter on exquisite stationery would appear when he couldn't.

No one knew (Y/N) was in love.

So caught up in her head, she didn't even register the chilly air filtering around her as she descended the church steps being her father. She had followed mindlessly even when he stopped to make conversation with another parishioner, not noticing his pause until she tripped right into his back.

Turning around, her father steadied her with a gentle hand and concerned eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking over the bridge of her nose that had smacked right into his spine.

"Yes, sorry," she rushed out with a shake of her head, "I wasn't paying attention."

His worry seemingly settled in permanent lines across his face. "Are you sure? You're not growing ill, are you? You've been off in your head these last few days."

Unconsciously, her eyes trailed over his shoulder and towards the fringes of the group where Harry stood by himself. She could just barely see the amused curl to his lips. He had definitely seen her misstep.

"No, " she answered, blinking back into the conversation though now she had her own efforts focussing on keeping her features in line. "I'm just tired."

—————

"Harry," (Y/N) murmured against his mouth, "My father..."

Drawing away from her kiss-puffed mouth, Harry sighed. "I know. I am trying, but you have to understand my struggle, darling."

She couldn't help the plume of laughter that fanned from her lips at his words. He practically beamed at the sound, his deep green eyes glimmering in the low light of a single lamp.

(Y/N) loved the way he smiled when they were alone. It was a wonder thinking that there was time before she had even known he had dimples.

"I'm sorry," she told him, settling into the down pillow under her head. Harry hovered above her with a delicate hand roaming over her cheek, his other propping him up from where he laid at her side. She barely noticed the chill when they were like this, huddled under her quilt with the heat of their breath and curious hands. "I wish we didn't have to worry."

"Come to me tomorrow," he offered in an instant, a bit breathless as he dropped his hand to boldly skate down her side, "We can be alone then."

His palm settled over her waist with a pulse, fingers tightening just when he mentioned alone. Shifting in her bedding, he didn't hesitate to pull her closer to him.

From the heat in his refracted gaze and the exceptional curiosity of his hands tonight, (Y/N) had a blushing idea of what he wanted to be alone for. While it wasn't the first time in the last weeks that there had been the passing possibility of allowing him to push her nightgown up or pull apart her corset, this was the first time Harry had given such a hint to his own intentions.

For fear of assuming too much, (Y/N) slid her eyes down the slope of his neck. "I don't know."

Creases appeared between his brows as he gazed down at her. "What are you unsure about, darling?"

Avoiding his eyes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. "I—We—" she stumbled, tongue lazing around her mouth while she searched for the right words, "I want to be alone with you too, but... We're not married."

She didn't match his eyes for fear that she had misread the situations and every other before this that she had sworn Harry was worked up on her account. For all she knew, he wanted nothing more than to speak at full volume and have more than a squeaky bed to sit upon.

Ducking his head into her line of sight, he forced her to meet his gaze. "I would never want to do something that you do not want as well, (Y/N). If you would prefer we do nothing more until we begin publicly courting and doing things in order, then that is what we will do." His hand on her side softened. "This is already more than enough for me—I can wait."

Despite his kind words, (Y/N) didn't feel any of her stress alleviate. She had already known Harry would never rush her into anything thatch was not ready for, just as much as she knew that she did not feel any real inclination to wait until they were betrothed. But, neither of those truths made her decision any easier, not when there was more than just her own wants and desires to take into account.

"I know, and I want to, really," she said, reaching out to play with the loose fabric of his top, "I just—It's... I don't want you to see or think of me any differently afterwards. I know it is not proper to want anything outside of marriage—I do not want anything to change if I were to... indulge."

She hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him, specifically the kind of pressures that were placed on her for the simple fact that she was a woman in society. There were enough stories she had heard of women who had taken what they wanted, or fell in love with another and expressed that love, and were later shamed for doing exactly that—oftentimes by their own partners or people she trusted in her life. She didn't want to be cast aside in case he found that he no longer wanted her afterwards, after seeing how willing she was to be with someone that wasn't her husband.

Harry's features twisted with a frown touching his lips and his eyes saddening. "Have I ever made you feel as if my feelings would change should you spend the night with me? If I have, I want you to know—"

"No, it's not that," (Y/N) rushed out, already feeling guilty, "You've never made me feel anything like that. It's just that... I suppose I've made myself feel this way. I just don't want you to change your mind about me."

For all she knew, Harry would have sex with her and learn that he was only attracted to her for the fact that he wanted to be with someone after such a long time. It was not his fault she had these doubts, but they were ones that lived in her head.

Harry didn't shy away from her as she spoke. He only listened, patiently waiting for her to finish her thoughts.

"I will just have to prove it to you then, that I have no doubts about you or anything I feel for you." His words were solid, unyielding. There was no room for argument. "In the meantime," he contented, his tone decidedly softer as he shuffled closer to her, "Would it be enough to tell you that I adore you? That I care for you more than I have for anyone or anything before?"

(Y/N) suddenly felt shy under his attention. He had murmured as much to her in the heat of the moment before, but never so clearly and earnestly before.

"Harry," she started, settling her palm against his chest as if to contain him.

"It is true," he smiled, unwavering in the way he spoke ,"You are like no one I have ever known before, and I could spend my entire existence only wishing to learn you. I know we are not married, or even engaged, but I hope it is enough to know that I do love you."

Refractions of green sparkled in his eyes, brightening his gaze in a way she swore only happened when they were alone. Her heart bubbled and beat heavily in her chest. She could n longer contain the budding grin fighting to pluck at her lips.

"You truly mean that?" she whispered, selfishly asking if only to hear it again.

Dimples were thumbed into his cheeks. "Of course, I do. I've come to believe that the reason I was kept alive for so long was so that I might get to meet you."

Looking up at him with his words ringing in her ears, Harry was like the moon to her. Never had she heard devotion like that. Even in her most romantic of daydreams, she never could have imagined that harry would say something like that to her, his eyes fixed to hers and his touch an anchor. Her chest practically ached as she processed.

Her hand on his chest curled until she was fisting his top between her fingers. "I love you, too," she peeped out, the sound of her heartbeat sticking in her ears.

Harry didn't hesitate before he was sealing his lips to hers once more. It was a hurried, excited kiss, leaving their mouths just a bit off center and his nose mushed against her cheek, but (Y/N) couldn't help but to smile into the contact.

When he pulled away, (Y/N) could have sworn there was a flush of color to his skin. "If not for how badly I want to do this the right way, I would be proposing right now, (Y/N)."

"You don't have to," she murmured, surging forward and pressing another kiss to his lips, "This is enough for me." While there was still undue shame she was going to undoubtedly feel tied to any decision she made, she didn't want that to come before what she wanted when it came to Harry. "If you were still offering," she started, dropping her eyes to follow the line of his nose and the pillow of his lips, "I would like to see you tomorrow. At your home."

"Really?" he asked, his voice an octave deeper than she remembered.

She nodded, a soft smile on her features.

"Only if you are sure, my love," he murmured, "The door is always open for you."

(Y/N) could only answer him with a kiss.

—————

Pacing around her bedroom, (Y/N) counted, the numbers climbing in her head. Her simple white dress flourished around her ankles with every step, though she took care to avoid the creaky floorboards.

When she reached two hundred, she took in a deep breath and strained her ears to listen to the rest of the house. All she heard was the sound of her father's snoring, just as she had when she had started readying herself.

Releasing that breath, she took quiet steps to her slightly ajar window. She had run over this plan enough times in her head for her brain to go quiet as she finally put it all in place. Repeating her steps from the first time she had snuck out, (Y/N) made it out of her home in one piece before starting towards the long winding route leading to Harry's home.

It wasn't long before a familiar black carriage and bone white horses hit her line of sight. A broad grin took over her features as she pace doubled to reach the coach.

"Hello, Mitchell," she chirped, catching the familiar head of dark hair and pale features sitting in the coach box.

"Hello, Ms. (Y/N)," he smiled at her, formality still hitting his tone despite (Y/N) assuring him more than once that he didn't need to offer her any, "He's been eagerly waiting for you."

"I have been, too," she confessed through her grin, rounding the carriage with less grace than she figured she ought to have. Before she even had a chance to knock on the door or surprise him, Harry was practically jumping out of the box.

"(Y/N)," he practically sighed, wrapping her in his arms the second his feet landed on the solid ground.

Her own arms around his neck, she all but melted into his hold. Harry held her snug to his chest, his face buried in her hair. "I've missed you so, darling. I feel as if it has been years since I've held you."

"You were in my room just last night, Harry," (Y/N) laughed. As if she hadn't been feeling the same way today, though it was much more fun to tease him.

"Exactly," he countered, stiffening his hold on her to lift her feet from the ground. (Y/N) squealed a laugh in his ear as she clung to him. "It has been much too long since I've held you."

She could offer no argument to him as she wrapped her limbs around Harry, allowing him to carry her into the carriage effortlessly. (Y/N) felt breathless by the time he had her settled on the bench beside him, wrapped in velvet and warmth despite his chilled skin.

As she caught her breath, the horses started off in the direction of the castle, a rhythmic thumping starting with their hooves against the path. Harry looked down at her with amusement on his features.

"Have you truly not missed me, darling?" he asked, his voice a soft song filling the space between them. His hand was just as gentle as he removed hair from her face, giving him a full view of her eyes.

"I have," she smiled, shaking her head, "But, Mitchell..."

Harry waved her off. "He doesn't listen, believe me. He only wishes to see me happy."

"Are you? Happy, I mean?"

Dipping his head down until he could press his lips to hers, (Y/N) received her answer in a murmur: "Undoubtedly, so."

—————

"If you're ready, I have somewhere I'd like to show you."

Looking at Harry from over the rim of her wine glass, (Y/N) brightened. "What is it?" she asked after swallowing her gulp, the center of her lips tinted a berry red.

"Let me show you," Harry countered, standing from his place at the dining table before offering her a hand.

(Y/N) placed her palm in his without a second thought, fluidly following after him.

Her new gown flourished with every step she took with her hand cradled in the crook of his elbow, the white ensemble having been waiting for her when they arrived at the estate. Though it wasn't as grand as the red one that now hung delicately in the wardrobe, it was no less luxurious.

The fabric was a satiny cream, gliding over her fingertips when she first touched it. The neckline cut straight across her décolletage with the sleeves being nothing more than swathes of material that draped over her arms, leaving the boned corset to keep the bodice upright. The skirt wasn't full like her last garment, leaving the shape slim and sleek around her form. Harry had practically mooned at her when she descended the stairs after dressing, his eyes never leaving her for long.

With the way the fabric gleamed and shimmered, (Y/N) felt as if she fit in with the moonlight when Harry led her outside. At her side, he blended in with the dark night aside from his pale features, acting as the heavens around the bright moon.

The ground under their steps was dewy, appearing as if drops of starlight had landed on earth with the reflection of the sky on the droplets. Looking ahead, through the draping wisteria and dark purple blooms, was the greenhouse. The building was in much better shape than the last she had seen, now with a complete roof and frosted glass on every wall.

"You finished it!" she bubbled, eager to see if he'd had the chance to fill it with any exotic blooms just yet.

"I did," he smiled, his profile illuminated by the full moon, "I wanted to make sure I could take you here the next time you came."

Approaching the door, Harry pushed it open for her to enter first.

Inside, (Y/N) felt that same wondrous glee she did when he had shown her the ballroom for the first time. This small space put her entire apothecary to shame.

The space was warm and humid, condensation trapped along the windows. Strung along the roof were familiar bundles of all of the herbs Harry had come by to pick up over the last month or so whenever he wanted an excuse to see her, the air tinted with the matching lavender and tobacco fragrances. The greenhouse itself had shelf after shelf, stretching tables, and hanging pots full of different plants. There were still plenty of places to grow, more room to put more and more flowers and herbs, but there was already enough filling that space that (Y/N) couldn't help the joyous gasp she let out.

Harry allowed her to wander through, looking over every leaf and every shrub, fawning over the blooms, and finding things she had no name for. When she wasn't so lost in her daydreams, romanticizing everything, (Y/N)'s hobby was her plants. She doted on them like pets, and took care of them every chance she could. Being in a place like this, with Harry, in a gorgeous dress, was exactly what her dreams were made of.

Coming up to an unfamiliar plant, (Y/N) gazed at it with wide eyes. The open leaves resembled that of an open jaw, with spines on the very edge of the leaves acting as teeth. It was colored a bright, smooth green, not a single blemish altering the perfection. Curiosity took over as she reached out, attempting to touch the spines to see if they were as sharp as they looked. She jumped back with a yelp when the leaves snapped together upon contact, acting just like the gnashing jaw she had compared them to.

In an instant, Harry was at her side, cradling her back to him with her hand clasped in his.

"It didn't get you, did it?" he asked with a concerned furrow to his brow. He cradled her hand in his palm, the pad of his thumb brushing over her fingertips as if he could heal any wound with a touch.

"No, I am alright," she answered, canting her head as her eyes stayed locked on the biting plant, watching as it reopened its jaws for the next victim, "Does it always do that?"

Bundling her hand in his own, Harry followed her this time as she approached the trap once more. "Only when it is trying to eat," he shared, watching her with the same fascination she offered to the plant.

"It eats? What do you mean?"

"It is called a Venus Fly Trap," Harry explained, "Unlike the others, it eats meat—bugs and the like. When it thinks it's caught any prey, it'll snap closed and take its meal."

(Y/N) had never heard of a predator plant—had never even imagined something like this could exist. "You feed it?"

"It does rather well for itself, I choose not to interfere too much."

She tried to picture something that looked so flimsy, a pair of leaves that mechanically moved together, could trap a living being. "Has it ever bitten you before?"

"Once," Harry admitted, "It was more startling than anything. That is when Mitchell shared that we would most likely benefit from leaving it alone."

Without much thought, she reached out once more as if to test the theory that the trap was nothing more than a scare. Harry quickly had her hands bundled in his own, twirling her away from the exotic bloom. He shook his head when his eyes met hers, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"I have said it before, but it always surprises me how much you lack any sense of survival," he laughed, pulling her hands to his chilled chest, "Though I said it did not hurt, does not mean you should try it out yourself."

"Sorry," she answered, a sheepish smile on her lips, "I just wanted to try for myself."

"Don't," he teased, bringing her hands to his lips where he gave her a soft smattering of kisses along the fingertips.

A soft laugh plumed from (Y/N)'s lips as she watched him, wiggling her hands out of his to cradle his cheeks in her palms. "This place is wonderful, Harry. I had no idea you wanted to make something like this."

He leaned into the warmth of her touch. "I made it for you."

(Y/N) felt her features soften; her eyes rounded out, cheeks softened around the width of her smile, every muscle she hadn't even realized she was tensing now going lax. "Did you really?" she crooned, following the refractions of light that danced over his features from the moonlight streaming through.

"Of course, I did," he smiled, "I'd do anything for you."

It was a moment like this that she wondered if she could really handle being engaged for a whole two years the way her sister was. She had spent so many years dreaming up someone like Harry, she wasn't sure if she could wait that much longer to have him be hers in every real way. All she could do was hold him tighter.

Harry's smile widened as he gazed down at her. "I wish I knew what was going on in your head."

"Just you," (Y/N) answered, "Always you."

Turning his head in between her hands, Harry pressed his lips not puckered kisses against the palms of her hands. She could feel him smiling against her skin.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, my love, but I am forever grateful." He pulled her hands from his cheeks only to hold them against his chest once more. His features, though still swimming in adoration, settled into something more somber then. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something out here."

"Oh?" (Y/N) sounded.

For the first time since they met, (Y/N) saw a small amount of uncertainty leak into his gaze. "I know we have talked some about our future," he started, gaze traveling over her features to capture any and every reaction, "And, I have been thinking about something that I wanted to share with you."

"Okay," she nodded, trying not to betray her own nerves on her face, "Something good, I hope."

A faint dimple was pushed into Harry's cheek as he stretched his smile that much more. "I hope so, as well." Within a breath, he was entirely serious once more. "You know that I wish to marry you, right? Outside of just our talks in your bedroom, I have meant every word I have said about sharing my life with you."

"I do," she smiled, hoping to lessen his worry, "And I feel the same. I wish we could be married tomorrow, even."

Small traces of relief had his features loosening up, the cut of his jaw rounding and his brows relaxing. "I do as well, but I want to do that the right way, with a real wedding and everything else you could want. Though, I feel that the both of us are rather impatient." (Y/N) let out a small fan of laughter at his truth. "Because of that, I have been thinking and found some old correspondence with a friend that gave me an idea." He paused before continued, as if gathering his words. "Do you remember the Blood Bond I told you about?"

(Y/N) gave a silent nod. She could recall the short details he had shared with her and the way her mind had traced back to the binding more than once in her daydreams.

"I know it is a lot to ask of you, as neither of us really understand what a Blood Bond truly entails outside of theory, but I have wondered if... If you might be willing to complete a Blood Bond with me." He rolled his lips between his teeth wrestling with both his nervousness at presenting the idea as well as his hope for her answer. "I found letters from an old friend, someone who knew someone else who had completed the bond with another, and it sounded promising. There weren't many details, but they sounded happy."

"Were they—" (Y/N) floundered over her question, unable to find the right terms, "Were they both like you? Or was one of them like me?"

His mouth formed a grim line. "Both were like me. I can't find anything on any couple like us, unfortunately. I suppose we might be the first," Harry posited, the very corner of his mouth turning upwards.

While (Y/N) was more than warm to the idea of bonding with Harry—marrying him in the way they could without having the follow the steps of courting and engagement while also easing her father into the idea—she was unsure. The lack of details that even Harry knew tickled a part of her mind she had trouble ignoring.

"Would it...If we did, would it make me like you?" While she loved Harry for who he was, and understood his story, there was little desire in her to completely forgo her own life in favor of a still heart (and the blood thing was still very much not something she had interest in).

"I do not think so, but, again, I can't be sure." It appeared as if it pained him to give her so little detail. "But, I would never offer this if I did not think it would be a good option for us, darling. Selfishly, even if we can't share this with anyone, I don't know if I can wait much longer before I know I am yours and you are mine."

He peeked at her through his lashes, reflections of green glimmering in the pale moonlight. (Y/N) understood what he meant. While this would be another secret between them, something she couldn't even share with her father, it was enough to look at him and know that Harry was hers and she was his. It was enough to know that there was a place they belonged: at each other's sides.

Pinching her bottom lip between her teeth she asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore than I can imagine a regular bite does," he offered, giving a small shrug of his shoulders, "But, I can't be sure. I would do everything I could to make it as painless as possible, darling."

There was a part of (Y/N) that stayed wary, and urged her to do the same. It poked holes in the logic and filled everything with doubt. There was no easy way to be the first, there was no safe way. There was so much unknown about what could happen should she bare her neck for him and allow Harry to bind them together in whatever way the Blood Bond would do. There was even a chance that she could drop dead immediately after, leaving the rest of her life—including Harry—behind.

There was no way to be sure that nothing terrible would happen, but the rest of her wasn't certain if that really mattered. She had no way of knowing that Harry was telling the truth when he revealed his nature to her, or if she could be sure that she was truly safe around him. She had no way of knowing that she was doing the right thing by continuing to invite him to her and to fall in love with him on the way. But she did each of those things anyway, because she had felt in her bones that it was right. She had felt that she could trust Harry with everything—every fall down the rabbit hole of love, every time they were alone with her neck at his teeth, everything that her instincts told her was okay because she trusted him.

That trust in him piped up, flicking (Y/N)'s gaze to match his as he patiently waited for her answer. "Okay."

Harry perked up at the word. "Okay?"

The beginnings of an ecstatic grin bubbled over her features. "I want to bond with you. We'll learn all of this together. I don't want to go another day without being yours."

In the middle of the greenhouse, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest before lifting her off of her feet. (Y/N) giggled, looping her own arms around his neck and clinging to him as he spun her around. Her dress twirled around them, enclosing Harry in lily white fabric as if he were the center of a moonlit bloom.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over, his face burrowed in her neck with his nose skimming the column.

(Y/N) could only smile, her eyes shuttering closed. She buried her hands in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. This is the kind of joy she pictured when she finally found her one and she agreed to spend her life with him—another assurance that she was doing the right thing. Something so wrong or hasty wouldn't feel so good.

Positing her down on the edge of a sparsely populated table, Harry stood between her legs as he settled his hands on her thighs over her silken dress. He had a bubbling smile on his face as he looked up at her, his eyes almost entirely green with only his pupil and a few slivers of the familiar coal remaining.

"I will write to my friend, and see if he has any more answers. Then, when you're ready, we can—"

A furrow pinched (Y/N) brow as she spoke, "We're not doing it tonight?"

Harry paused to consider her question. "I thought... I don't want to push you or make you feel as if we have to do this tonight. I figured you would like more time."

While Harry was erring on the side of caution—once again being the more responsible of the two compared to her impulsiveness—she didn't want to do the same. She had no fear of the Venus Fly Trap despite almost being caught in its clutches, and she had no fear of Harry and the unknown.

"I don't need any more time," (Y/N) cemented, reaching to settle her hands on his shoulders with her fingertips digging into the luxe velvet, "I trust you, and I don't want to wait anymore. I waited my whole life to find someone like you—I practically dreamt you up. I don't need time to be sure."

As she spoke, Harry had his eyes fixed on her, watching her mouth wrap around every word and the devotion of which she hoped he felt. His own lips had fallen open in a small gape, eyes glimmering as if he were looking at the sun. HIs hands on her thighs pulsed, tightening his grip as if he could drift away at any moment.

He didn't have to say it for (Y/N) to know that he loved her. That he knew what it was like to wait and hope there was someone there at the end who understood.

Reaching to cradle her cheeks in his palms, he brought her in for a slow kiss, his lips slotted between hers with his nose brushing against her own. There was an urgency behind it that she had never felt from him before.

"I love you," he murmured.

The delicate curl of her lips had him pulling away just enough to drag his kisses over her cheek. "I love you, too."

"I'm not certain in what I'm doing, (Y/N), so I need you to tell me if I am hurting you. I do not want this to be ruined because of me, so please stop me if you feel the need." His lips never lifted from her skin as he spoke, his words being painted across in sweeps of his breath and skims of his nose.

"I trust you," she reiterated, dipping her head back as he descended lower towards her throat, "I love you."

"I love you, too," he responded simply, before pulling away, "But you must promise me. If there's even a moment where you are no longer sure, do whatever you need to do to make me stop."

His jaw was set and eyes hard as he spoke, determination settling on his features. "I promise," she said, her hands still firm on his shoulders, "If anything changes, I will tell you."

A small curl lifted his lips as he took her vow, features softening. "I will tell you before I bite, is that okay?"

"Please," she responded, relaxing into his arms as he wrapped them around her middle with his hands spanning the planes of her back. As much as she did trust him, the fact that his teeth would be biting into her neck in a few moments was most likely going to be her least favorite part of their bonding.

When Harry dipped his head down, the chill of his touch grazing her throat, (Y/N) expected to feel the scrape of his teeth, the point of something predatory catching on her skin. Instead, she felt the soft press of his lips and the drag of his nose over the column. He worked slowly, familiarly, kissing his way along until he stopped. He paused on the side of her throat, just under where her pulse thrummed.

"I'm going to bite here, alright?" he murmured, "Just long enough to forge the bond, darling."

She clenched her hands on his shoulders. "Okay."

Against her throat, she could feel his lips moving though there was no sound. She wanted to ask what he was saying, but before she had a chance that searing slice she had been waiting for finally struck.

The feeling took her breath away, her hands tightening on his shoulders. It didn't hurt like a cut from a knife or a stab from a needle, no—Harry's bite burned. It was a bubbling burn, as if something inside her was melting all within the span of a second. The searing brought tears to her eyes, stealing her breath before she had a chance to understand.

Just as quickly as the burning started, it was gone. In its place was something pleasantly cool, like a breeze on a warm day. Her vision cleared with her breath restored. She was hyper aware of Harry's shoulders under her hands, the warmth of his velvet jacket and the welcome chill from his skin. She clung to him, conscious of every stretch of fabric on her skin and every anchoring touch he gave her. It was overwhelming, verging on euphoric, urging her to shutter her eyes and absorb every second.

The moment could have lasted anywhere from two hours long to two seconds, (Y/N) had no way of telling by the time Harry pulled away. He kept his grip on her firm, his arms barred around her back as she came back down to the greenhouse.

With a fluttering blink of her lashes, (Y/N) saw Harry for what he was, for the very first time.

He looked at her with eyes darker than she had ever seen before, no semblance of any green she was accustomed to. She could clearly see a flush on his cheeks, appearing more human than she had ever realized he wasn't. The most jarring part: the blood dripping down his chin. It was a stark rub against his skin, staining his lips and coating his teeth.

That was her blood rolling down his lips.

For the first time since meeting him, she felt that fear she had lacked. It was nothing more than a zip up her spine, but it was there. If he were any other person, any other version of him in the years past, this would be the last thing she saw before she would be laid to rest on the forest floor with her throat ripped out.

As much as she was startled at the sight, the feel of her blood dripping down her neck, she also saw the way he was looking at her. Within the depths of his dark eyes, he was seeing her and tasting her and knowing her for the first time. There was no way that she had been the only one to feel that overwhelming euphoria, not when he looked at her like that.

In a distracted movement, he wiped his sleeve over his chin, intending to clear some of the crimson though most of it only smeared over his skin.

He was breathless as he spoke, "Ar—You're... (Y/N)."

Tears filled his eyes as he clung to her.

Though her hand shook, (Y/N) still reached to place her palm on his cheek. She couldn't avoid the blood on his skin, but she didn't have the mind to care as she attempted to comfort him.

"I'm here," she whispered, hooking her ankle around the back of his leg, "You did it."

His hands on her back curled until his fingertips were denting her shoulder blades by how tightly he held her. He shook his head as if to clear whatever was going on inside. "We—It's—Your turn."

In that second, she remembered the small detail she had willfully forgotten. For the Bond to go both ways, she would have to also take his own blood. The prospect of him biting into her didn't seem so bad anymore compared to this.

Her eyes dropped to his neck, floundering suddenly. "I—But, I can't... I'm not like you, I can't... bite."

The fact seemed to hit Harry as well, though his brain was still clearly flooded with whatever it was he was experiencing with his end of the bond forged. He blinked to clear his eyes as he dropped his gaze to her neck.

"I think—I can take care of it," he offered on a stilted tongue.

(Y/N) didn't have any time to question before he was bringing his arm around to his lips, pushing his sleeve out of the way until his pale wrist was on display. The same way he had sunk his teeth into her neck, he now did to his own arm, opening up a gash with decidedly darker and thicker blood than she had ever seen before.

She understood what he was doing for her—taking out the work so she could close her end of the bond by taking in his blood—but she still felt repulsed at the prospect of tasting any of the ichor oozing from his arm. She wasn't like him. She couldn't see any way she could enjoy the taste or the feeling of drinking his blood.

All it took was one glance into his shimmering eyes, the same ones that had pleaded to her to not be scared of him, that prosed over his devotion to her, that had her shakily taking his arm in her grasp.

"Wh-What do I do?"

"Jus' drink, darling," he swallowed, "Quickly. Before it heals."

For the sole fact that she wasn't sure if she could stomach seeing Harry bite into himself once more, she closed her eyes and brought his wrist to her lips. The second the blood filled her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to retch over and spit it out. It was metallic and heavy, coating her mouth in a way she couldn't compare anything to.

The first gulp was the hardest—the most troubling. Just as soon as she swore her throat was closing, urging her to gag and be rid of everything she was taking down, something changed.

Similar in the way that there was an overwhelming stillness when Harry had bitten her, she was now left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. Before she had been contently in her skin, aware of every motion and touch. This time, she was conscious of everything that wasn't entirely her.

She swore she could feel her own wrist warming, her own thoughts picturing her bent over Harry's arm, the feel of her dress under her palm.

These were Harry's thoughts and feelings she was experiencing. She was no longer just her in that moment.

The Bond was there, allowing her a peek into who it was that was at her side.

Including the immense amount of love he was feeling just then.

She had never been aware of a missing piece in her, never been aware that there could be more of her somewhere, until then. This is what Harry had been feeling when he bit her, when he looked at her with tears in his eyes and clung to her as if she were the only one to give him breath, to make him whole.

Pulling his arm from her mouth, she didn't think twice of the blood staining her lips or coating her chin before she was throwing herself at him. Looping her arms around his neck, she clung to him with tears leaking down her eyes.

That was the Bond she could feel pulsing through her system. Harry was now a part of her just as much as she was his.

There was no doubt their clothing was ruined, blood staining the material that they had no chance of removing, with the ends of (Y/N)'s hair caught in the crossfire, but she couldn't find it in herself to care for more than anything but Harry.

"I love you," she whispered, her voice brittle under the lump in her throat and the tears glazing her eyes. "We did it."

"We did," Harry sighed, the smile on his face apparent in his tone, "I love you so much, darling."

(Y/N) could only close her eyes, melting into his hold with the greenhouse falling away around them. She clung to him tighter.

"I've got you, darling," he murmured into her hair, his voice a soothing balm to her wired nerve endings.

Relaxing into the moment, a quiet smile etched its way onto her lips.

This was going to be the rest of her life.

—————

"Harry, be quiet," (Y/N) giggled into his mouth.

"Why?" he countered, only pulling away just far enough to speak, "It's just us here, remember?"

Drawing him back to her lips with her hands on his cheeks, (Y/N) could barely keep the smile off of her face long enough to kiss him back. She sunk further into the luxe mattress under her back with every earnest press of his lips to hers, the first swipe of his tongue darting out to run along the seam of her lips.

After stumbling their way out of the greenhouse and through the gardens, Harry had led her to his bedroom with a kind of giddiness she had never seen in him before. Despite the blood on his face, he was almost child-like in his wonder with the way he looked at her.

His bedroom was just as laden in luxury as the rest of the castle, though it was clear that there was someone actually inhabiting the space. She could see stamps of his presence everywhere; in the stationery on his desk to the unkempt bedding as if he couldn't be bothered to remake his bed everyday despite having nothing but time to fill. A pile of lavender bundles and chamomile blooms were stacked on his bedside, familiar twine holding the herbs together.

When he offered her the bathroom to clean off, (Y/N) didn't hesitate, wanting to clean herself from the crust that was forming on her chin and the bits of blood that had dried in her hair. By the time she finished, there was a nightgown waiting for her and an invitation on familiar stationery to join Harry in his room when she was ready.

Under different circumstances, she would have taken her time, luxuriated in the thick towels and scented lotion. There were different creams and oils that she didn't recognize, the kind she would have loved to take her time and learn. But there was someone waiting for her—someone that was as close to her husband as he could be without sending her down the aisle in a white dress.

She didn't want to leave him waiting.

(Though, she did notice that the bite he had given to her neck was healed almost completely. The wound that had bled enough to fill his mouth was now reduced to a pair of pin pricks on the side of her neck, just barely visible if someone was looking. She was going to have to ask at some point if that was the effect of the bond mending her skin).

That was how she found herself with Harry hovering above her, damp hair tossed across his pillow and her hands cradling his cheeks.

"I can feel you right here," he murmured to her in wonder, his hand on his chest where his unbeating heart sat.

Sprinkling her own kisses along his cheek, she smiled against his skin. "I can feel you in my heart, too," she whispered against his skin.

Drawing away, (Y/N) tried to chase him for another kiss before failing and sinking back into her pillow with a breathy laugh. Harry's smile widened at the sound. His gaze slipped over her with enough depth that she could have sworn his hands followed the trail, goosebumps erupting on her skin.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," (Y/N) said, stealing the same line he said to her more than once.

Matching her gaze once more, he looked at her with gleaming green shards in his eyes. "Just you. Always you."

Creases appeared by her eyes from just how far her smile stretched. She knew that line just as well. "Of course it is," she teased, petting the pad of her thumb along the height of his cheek bone,

"I mean it, my love" he smiled, sweeping a hand across her forehead to pull any stray hairs out of the way, "I have never felt before the way I do right now. Because of you."

(Y/N)'s heart surged at his words. She knew exactly what he was feeling. Through something she was beginning to understand as their bond, she felt the ardent truth in Harry's words as much as she could hear it. There wasn't enough vocabulary available to tell him what it meant to her to feel and hear his love.

Selfishly, she resorted to tugging him down for a kiss instead, hoping he understood just as well.

He smiled into the kiss, a good sign, just before he settled in with her.

With her legs spread wide for his hips to sit between, she couldn't help but to cling to him. There was no other way she could tell him how much she loved him, how deeply excited she was to spend the rest of the unknown with him. The feeling brought her back to the night before, when he had invited her here in the first place—when he had told her he loved her.

Despite the chill of his touch, she had never felt so warm when recalling the memory.

Her hands on his cheeks slid down from his face, following the line of his neck to his shoulders. The neck of his loosely buttoned shirt gave way under her touch, allowing more of his cold skin to sit on display for her to graze her fingers over.

With their mouths slotted together, (Y/N) grazed one hand up the column of his throat unsure of if it was her own warmth being reflected back or if he was feeling the same way as she and something had awoken in his body. Without thinking, she dragged her nails lightly down his skin, entranced by the new skin she had never touched and barely seen before.

Harry let out a low moan into her mouth, the sound rumbling against her own chest. Through the bond, she felt that touch of euphoria she was only familiar with through the bite in the greenhouse. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

Pulling away from her mouth, he dragged his kisses down the line of her jaw. "What was that for, darling?" he asked, his voice a deep grumble compared to the dulcet tones he typically served her.

"Did you like it?" she countered, a sheepish tone to her voice. She hadn't meant anything by it, really.

It was the smile she felt against her skin that had her relaxing. "I did," he answered, dragging his lips down the slope of her neck, "Is that what you wanted?"

"I always want to make you happy," she simply chirped back.

Drawing away, Harry hovered over her with a slight curl to his lips and only a sliver of green showing around his dark pupils. "Your job is terribly easy then," he smiled, "As I can't help but feel anything but completely ecstatic around you."

(Y/N) could only shake her head, suddenly feeling bashful under his gaze. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her with her face buried in his neck. She could feel the plume of laughter he let out as much as she could hear it.

Pressing his weight into her as he reciprocated her hold, he wrapped his arms around her middle in a snug hug. The length of his body was pressed against hers, including the hard to ignore ridge nudging between her legs. While it wasn't the first time she had felt as much between the sheets in her bedroom, it still took her breath away.

Harry undoubtedly felt her reaction, causing him to pull away just enough to look down at her. "What's wrong, love?"

She floundered over her words, unsure of how exactly to phrase what she had caused her gasp and the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. "You—I mean... You're—"

Pursing his lips, Harry held back his smile. "I know, darling," he smiled, "Don't worry, alright? We've done enough tonight, I don't think we need to add anymore new experiences like we had planned."

"But—" She unceremoniously dropped her gaze between them as if she could get a peek at what was prodding at her core. "I don't want to... You're not hurting, are you?"

He couldn't help the laugh that fell from his mouth then. "No, I am not hurting," he smiled, squeezing her to him one last time before relinquishing his hold.

Meandering out from between her legs, he moved to lay beside her. (Y/N) rolled with him, unwilling to let him go very far before he settled at her side, sharing the same pillow despite the vast amount of negative space available.

"You don't want me to...?" (Y/N) trailed off, unsure of what exactly she was asking. She knew Harry had asked her over, hoping to take advantage of the time alone without having to worry about the creaks of her own home. Despite the turns that night had taken, she didn't want him to believe she was no longer willing, even if she was a bit exhausted.

Harry's smile was tender on his lips, adoring just as his eyes were. He took one of her hands that had been clasped behind his neck and brought her palm to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the back in a smattering of kisses, he trailed that line up to her wrist and along her arm until she could no longer contain her giggling. The bright smile he gave in response had to match that of her own.

"Not tonight, my love," he crooned, "I know we had talked about how we wanted to spend this night by ourselves, but I know my outlook on the night has changed some." His gaze dropped to the pinprick marks on her neck, his features brightening that much more at the sight. "I don't feel any rush to do more. We have all the time in the world to learn each other in that way. I'd rather tonight be about you and I and learning the bond we now have."

Through that bond, she could feel his sincerity. There was no rush in him, nothing clamoring to take her virginity just to have it. It was more important to him to know his wife—his beloved, his bonded. Through his eyes, she saw the stretch of time they had together and the many nights they could fill between the sheets. There was no rush to be had when he had her for the rest of their lives.

"You're sure?" she asked, shuffling closer to him over the velvet duvet, "I don't want to disappoint you."

"How could you disappoint me, my love?" he asked through a dazzling smile, dimples denting his cheeks and perfect teeth on display. He brushed his hand over her cheek, fingertips grazing the fan of her lashes and the height of her cheekbone as if she were the most delicate of flowers in his garden. "You're here," he said in awe, "In my bed, brave enough to bond with me, and looking at me with stars in your eyes. How could I ever be disappointed with you?"

Heart thumping in her chest, (Y/N) looked at him and saw the life he had envisioned.

There were so many nights they were going to spend just like this, laden in velvet and kisses, chilling touches and warm gazes. They had all the time in the world, there was no reason not to savor these quiet moments with him.

All she could do was pull him in for a kiss.

—————

The following morning, (Y/N) was exhausted as she traipsed around the apothecary, though she felt as if she were floating off her feet. She took care to restock each and every cubby, straightening the displays and ensuring only the best of the best were placed out for customers. Her father was manning the register as she did so, leaving her to sit in her rose petal thoughts and appreciate the stiff muscles of her neck and bruises from her early morning climb back into her bedroom.

It was all reminders of the best night of her life, she decided. Her wedding night—even if it wasn't in the traditional sense.

There was a new piece that now lived inside her, a remnant of Harry's soul that now replaced the piece she had given him last night. It felt easier to breathe, now knowing that he was on the other side.

More than once since starting her day, her father had asked what had made her so chipper. She had only replied that she had slept well, or simply woke up in a good mood. She couldn't wait for the day that she could tell him that it was Harry that had her heart so full and eyes so bright.

The bell above the door jingled, alerting that a customer was coming in, though that wasn't what had (Y/N) perking up in her spot. There was a fumbling in her chest, as if her heart knew something she didn't.

Looking over her shoulder, her lungs squeezed when she saw who had walked through the door.

Armed with a draping bouquet of wisteria and the tiny bell-shaped blooms of lily of the valley, was Harry. He was dressed immaculately as ever, though she could see a color in his cheeks and his eyes almost glimmering with the amount of green shards that had surfaced. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father stiffen at his presence, though Harry gave her a passing glance with a lopsided smile before even acknowledging his presence.

"Mr. Styles," her father gruffly greeted him, "How can we help you today?"

"Actually, sir," Harry started, a pleasant voice to match his expression though (Y/N) could see amusement swimming in the depths, "I was hoping I could have a chance to speak with your daughter."

"She's busy at the moment, but I can help you with anything you need." Her father's voice now held an edge to it.

"Unfortunately," Harry said, skipping his gaze back to her where she stood with her hands knotted behind her back, "I don't think you can help me with this, sir. I was looking to ask for her permission to officially begin courting her—if she is interested, anyway"

(Y/N) had no hope of wiping the smile from her face, but she did everything she could to keep herself from launching into her husband. Instead, before her father could make any objection of any kind, she piped up with, "I am definitely interested, Mr. Styles. You have all the permission in the world."

Though she was sure that if she spared her father a glance he would be just as angry as the night he had thrown her invitation into the furnace, but she couldn't draw her eyes from Harry.

She couldn't wait to marry him. For the second time, technically.

—————

lily of the valley, though delicate, can stop the heart when consumed

ahhhhh that is the end of my little Halloween/fall story! now my break will be starting and ill be back with more writing after the new year!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas for anythign at all!

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ennabear · 2 months

Text

club sex w/ abby

free palestine / daily click / boycott tlou

cw: no physical description of reader, a sprinkle of mean!abby, praise and degradation, fingering (r!receiving), mentions of aftercare, MDNI

she was in love with all of you. from the way you twirled your body back and forth to the way she could beyond doubt see your glistening smile.

you were in love with all of her, too. despite the dizziness, you could still faintly make out her figure among your group of friends. she was standing and nursing a glass of something strong, staring at you.

the music continued, the bass seeming to shake the whole building. this was your favorite part about clubbing, you could dance freely in a sea of sweaty strangers. as per usual, you begged abby to come dance with you. and for the millionth time, you were met with a no.

oh how badly you wished the world would stop and wait for you. how badly you wished you could remember this forever, this feeling. the liquor taking over your head and creating this delicious high.

abby loved watching you get like this. part of her willed her to dance with you, but she hated dancing. she hated the crowded dance floor, the sweat, and the constant drink spilling. she had no choice but to sit back and watch you enjoy yourself.

as the time went on, song after song after song rattling the speakers, she began to grow needy. was it neediness? or rather, jealousy? the sight of you bouncing and grinding your hips in front of complete strangers drove her crazy. it created a fire in her that only you could extinguish.

almost as if your prayers were being answered, the world did seem so stop. the music slowed into a deep, melodic, synth rhythm. and your eyes caught onto her immediately. she was walking towards you, empty handed.

“come with me.” she said, her voice dark and raspy.

“what?” you yelled over the music. her words instantly getting overpowered by the deep bass.

instead of responding, she firmly gripped your wrist with one of her big strong hands, leading you to the bathroom. and by some miracle, it was empty.

she pushed you up against the door, her mouth meeting yours in a sloppy kiss. her breath was hot and sour, tasting of whiskey, and so intoxicating. her hands gripped the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

“mmph… abs. what’s this about?”

she pulled away slightly, lifting you up and setting you on the counter next to the sink.

“this what you wanted? huh? dancing like that in front of me all night.” she said, after locking the door with a click.

“yes. please, abs. i need you. please.” you whimpered at her words.

“okay, angel. just let me stretch you out first. okay? tell me if it’s too much for you.” and her mouth was back on your neck, her hands swiftly unbuttoning your jeans.

two of her long, pale fingers ran up and down your slit before abruptly entering you. the intrusion made you gasp, the familiar pleasure suddenly flooding back to you.

“fuckkk abs. you treat me so well.” you moaned.

“i know. you’re taking it so well. such a slut for me.”

her fingers continue to jackhammer into you, curling up and punching into that gushy spot that makes you borderline scream.

“abby pleasee, harder, please.” you begged.

“shh. don’t want anyone to hear us, do we? be quiet or i’ll stop. you’re doing so well angel.” and she adds another finger.

the sounds were obscene. you were trying your hardest to stay quiet, but the wet smacking of her fingers thrusting into you made it impossible.

your cunt felt deliciously stretched out as she continued her assault on your pussy. the pleasure was so intense you felt the need to grab onto something, opting for her golden braid.

“s-shitt. i’m so close. p-please keep going.”

she felt your wetness leaking around her fingers already, but she kept her steady pace. your cheeks grew hot, feeling your orgasm approach. abby wincing at the feeling of your hand pulling at her hair.

your legs spasmed and your hips bucked as you came. she talked you through it, kissing away the tears on your cheeks. the pace of her fingers didn’t come to a stop until you were squirming and panting.

“you did so good for me, baby. shhh, i’m here.” she said, taking your soaked panties and putting them in the pocket of her jacket.

once you came down, you slumped into her, resting your head on her shoulder. the exhaustion suddenly caught up to you, and the alcohol was almost fully worn off. abby helped you get your pants back on and stand up with you still clinging to her.

“ready to go home?” she asked.

“yeah. thanks abs, i love you.”

“i love you to sweetheart. let’s get you home and cleaned up.”

a/n: hiiii this is me begging u guys to send me more requests!!! plssss ily guys 🤗

#need her biblically #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x reader #the last of us #lesbian

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whatitshouldvebeen · 8 months

Note

Last last Johnny fic with the jealousy was so good ahhhhh

I can totally see him having a breeding kink, the narcissist in him would love it. Lowkey I think he'd have a housewife kink. Seeing you bearfoot in a sundress, round and pregnant hanging up laundry in a clearing near the sunflowers.

I don't think he'd be able to keep his hands off you

Here's... Johnny! This is kind of a sequel to this post

Johnny Slaughter x Reader

I Give & He Takes

Contains: reader is heavily pregnant, exhibitionism, vaginal and anal sex

MINORS DNI

Being near the beautiful sunflower fields turned doing the laundry into a delightful treat. In your cute white sundress, which occasionally rode up your round belly when you reached on your toes to pin Johnny's clothes for drying, you held his favorite black T-shirt close before pinning it up alongside one of your shirts.

Humming a tune from one of Sissy's songs, you were completely absorbed in your own world.

Suddenly, a touch jolted you out of your thoughts. Two strong hands firmly gripped your waist, then slid up to your hips before settling on your heavily pregnant stomach.

Johnny's whisper came as he rested his chin on your shoulder, his hands maintaining their hold around your belly. "How's my pretty girl?"

You giggled, leaning into his touch. "Better now that you're home."

He playfully nipped at your earlobe, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "And how's my baby?"

"They're kicking a lot today. It seems like they're impatient to join us," you remarked, and as if to agree, a series of kicks fluttered against Johnny's hand.

Johnny gently spun you around, his hands moving to grip your shoulders. His dark eyes roamed over you possessively, tracing every inch of you from the top of your head to the tips of your bare feet. The sun hung behind his slicked-back hair, casting it in a rich copper hue and forming a shadow that shaded your faces. You blushed under his intense scrutiny, biting your lip as you smiled up at him.

"Won't be long now," he said, his fingers continuing to caress your stomach as he directed his words to your unborn child. "As soon as you're out, mama and I are gonna give you a sibling. Mama's far too pretty not to be carrying my babies, after all," he murmured in a low tone, locking his eyes onto yours as his fingers began to lift the hem of your sundress.

"Johnny!" You gasped, glancing back at the family house and attempting to halt his hands' ascent with two of yours. "Everyone's home, and anyone could come out and see us."

"It ain't like they don't know we've been fucking, sugar," he said with a wry grin as he lifted your dress higher until it was crumpled up over your protruding stomach.

He leaned down and met your lips with his, kissing you fiercely. You wondered what has been getting him so riled up. Lately he's been more and more bold.

So, though you protested, you weren't surprised when he leaned you against the fence facing the sunflower fields. He looped his finger through the thin fabric of your panties and pulled it aside, spreading your ass with both hands and clicking his tongue appreciatively.

"Johnny, can we at least wait until it's dark?" You whimpered. He had you on display, with only his body to block the household's view.

His thumb pressed against your puckered hole, making you tremble. "Don't think we can, sweetpea." He moved to your slit, spreading you open. "What if the baby decides to come by nightfall? Then I'd miss my chance to fuck my deliciously round babygirl. No," his middle finger teased your entrance, "I think I'm done waiting."

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, and shortly after he slapped your ass cheek with his hard cock. A moan slipped from your lips, and you reflexively looked over your shoulder toward the house.

What you saw was Johnny pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it up over the clothing line. His muscles shone with sweat under the afternoon rays, and you saw a new cut across his abs.

"You get in a fight today, Johnny?" You asked.

His eyes crinkled as he laid his cock at the small of your back. "Admiring my latest scar?" He grabbed your hip with one hand and his cock with the other, looking down to line himself up with your slick entrance.

You couldn't deny how hot his scars were. Each new one he collected added to his already predatory look, so all you did was nod as he pushed into you slowly, hissing through his teeth.

"You're always so wet for me," he praised, pressing in slowly until you felt his full length fill your already-tight pussy.

Your knees trembled as he dug in long and agonizingly slow, pausing when he reached the hilt. Then, he bent his legs, and thrust up and into you as deeply as he could.

You let out another breathy moan before you could catch yourself, blushing hard. "You wantin' us to get caught?" You whispered in disbelief.

"More like I don't give a damn if we do. What's there to be embarrassed about? Got the world's sexiest woman wrapped around my cock," he said, gripping your ass cheeks and grinding up into you.

You knew there was no point in arguing —Johnny gets what he wants. So, fuck it. You arched back into him, allowing him as much access as possible.

"You lookin' real nice," he said. You felt his eyes drinking you in, reveling in the way you gave in to him. You couldn't help yourself. You are his, after all.

Johnny gripped your hair and used it as leverage to pull himself into you again and again, until you were completely lost in him, oblivious to your surroundings. His other hand was on your round belly, admiring his handiwork.

He let go of your hair and your head lolled forward, resting against the fence as he drove into you. Then, with no forewarning, he took his slick cock from your aching pussy. You whined at the loss, but only momentarily, as the head of his cock found your tight ring.

You heard him spit, and felt it land at the same moment he pushed into your ass. You had gotten his cock so wet that, with the addition of his saliva, he slotted into you with relative ease, letting out an animalistic groan.

"Oh fuck, Johnny!" You said, entirely too loudly. But being that your mind was completely lost in lust, you couldn't be expected to think. Which is exactly what Johnny wanted.

"What in tarnation is goin' on out-" the back porch door swung open and Drayton's voice sputtered as he spotted Johnny bending you over the fence in broad daylight, thrusting into you with wild abandon.

"Johnny- Drayton is-" you panted, struggling to finish your sentence.

"I know he's watchin'. He won't do anythin','' Johnny said. His hands gripped your butt cheeks so tightly that you felt your skin bruise, and you couldn't help but egg him on more, grinding with his motions.

The Cook wanted to intervene, to demand that you two get a room, but his protest died in his throat. He nervously looked around, then closed the door quietly behind him, pulling the shudders.

"Told ya, babygirl," Johnny said with a smirk, slowing his pace and savoring your tight warmth.

You shuddered, feeling intensely full, when Johnny's cock began throbbing inside you. "Fuck," he said breathily, his hips moving further into you. When the pulsations finally stopped, he pulled out slowly, spreading your cheeks wide to watch his length leave your welcoming depths.

"Good girl," he praised, laughing and slapping your now-sore ass. He turned you around and tugged you against his sweaty torso, kissing you fiercely before pulling back and rolling your dress back down. "Now get back to work, sugar," he said with a wink, and left you lying exhausted against the fence, too weary to feel in the least bit embarrassed.

It felt so good being the bad man's girl.

#johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre game #johnny sawyer #tcm smut #johnny slaughter x reader #pregnancy #pregnant reader

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sunnybunnyy2 · 7 months

Text

Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

Daryl Dixon x platonic!reader

Negan Smith x daughter!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.0k

TIME: season 7

Warnings: imprisonment, talk of rapists(briefly), talk of murder, mentions of Abe’s and Glenn’s deaths, arguments, mentions of saviours, mentions of what transpired in season six and seven, spoiler warning and bad writing.

CHAPTER 2 of the Dark Cell series

Series Masterlist Official Masterlist

This is long awaited! I'm sorry that this has taken so long but I have been making fanfics on Wattpad recently and if you are a fellow fanfic writer you understand how much unnecessary time it takes to come up with ideas and lines to make your character come to life. Thank you all for being so patient with me! Also, requests are open, and I will be redoing my master list, so look out for that. I have been influenced so yes, this is going to become a series so stay tuned! Now that I finished this part I have more motivation to actually write for this! I’d you want to be tagged in the series let me know! Thank you so much for reading<3

(if there is third person slip ups I’m sorry, I’m just so used to writing in third person :( )

The exchanges took place every night at around 1 a.m., and it had for the past seven days.

You would arrive carrying a plate or bowl of whatever leftover food you had managed to swipe from the kitchen or some dinner from the meals you would share with Negan.

You had aimed to make the food before you went down so that it was still hot but it was risky as, there was a large chance that one of Negan's men would notice and alert your father, which would raise suspicion.

The food consisted of Sandwiches, chicken, pasta, fish, soup and wraps.

You wished you could do it more often, but you knew that it would largely increase the chances of you getting caught.

You knew your punishment wouldn't be anywhere near how severe Daryl's would be. You also knew that as much as you pleaded your father would allow his pawns to have their fun in harming the long-haired man. You weren't quite sure why your father's men were so willing to starve and beat a man senseless to appear strong. Men and their egos you supposed.

Your father could preach all he wanted about how he would do anything for his daughter, how he would move mountains to appease you. How he would kill anyone who dared to disrespect you (he had) but yet he couldn't try and be a better man. He couldn't put his rage and grieve the wicked world had caused him and help people instead of torturing broken people and turning people who wanted to survive into heartless killers. Turn them into him.

You couldn't say you hated your father. You never could. But that certainly didn't mean you agreed with half the things he did.

You could tell he cared what you thought of him. You were the last thing he had of your mother, but that didn't mean he listened to you when you expressed your opinion.

You and your father were close before all of this happened, well before you found out about his affair. After that day you hated everything about him. Even when your mother got sick and he stood by her, did everything for her. You weren't sure if it was because of how guilty he felt for betraying her or because he loved her.

Normally you would insist on it being the first but now she was at a loss.

Since your mother's demise, your once childish but thoughtful father had turned into a power-hungry greedy man. At first you gave him the benefit of the doubt. He was grieving and was trying to find a way to cope with the loss of the woman he loved but it was as though he was forgetting that his daughter had lost her mother.

He wanted to make you happy, so he gifted you the biggest room in the sanctuary and allowed you to purchase whatever you desired without working, though you often helped with the growing crops in the back of the sanctuary. Your father never really liked the idea of her around the fence but he backed down after a heated argument between you. He did send some of his men to keep an eye on you, he tried to be discreet but his men were less than.

You always made sure to bring a large glass of tap water from your room down to his cell, wanting to at least make sure he didn't die of dehydration.

You knew that his physical health wasn't as bad as it was before but you knew that his mental health was still declining. He had been locked in the tiny cell for weeks on end, the only sound filling his ears was the constant lyrics of the song 'East Street'.

The bags under his eyes were proof enough of the lack of sleep he had been receiving. The way his eyes could barely focus on one thing when you would bring him his meals was another important factor in your conclusion.

Since your visits had become more frequent he had uttered his name quietly into the comfortable silence that had filled the cell as he hastily inhaled what was in front of him. It was so quiet that you had barely heard him, but once you realized that it wasn't your imagination you smiled softly to yourself before muttering your name as well.

In your mind, you were friends. You knew his name, he knew yours, you would bring him food, he would be thankful and you were both the highlight of each other's day.

Daryl- because he wasn't rapidly dropping weight as he had been before from his lack of food, which in turn kept his brain running so he could coax his thoughts into coming up with a plan to escape his captivity. Plus your company wasn't so bad he reckoned.

You- because you got to meet another survivor from a rivalling group, you had heard your father angrily ranting to his soldiers about how this mysterious group had taken out one of his many posts and killed everyone in it.

You were shocked at how brutal this group could be but you knew that your father could be even more heartless and it was proven when a week later whispers were passed along through the sanctuary that your father had partaken in another one of his lineups and had bashed in two members of Daryl's groups heads in with Lucille.

You knew that Daryl's group had killed countless people, saviours but at least their families and friends didn't have to see it, as apparently the people from the outpost were killed while they slept. It was a very cowardly way to kill but it was better in a way, they didn't see it coming.

You clutched the tray of food which consisted of a slice of ham from a pig the saviours had recently slaughtered as a way to celebrate the new community they had under their control, standing with the other few that they had taken over. With a side of carrots that you had picked herself to give him some energy.

Then finally a generous helping of mashed potatoes to fill him up, as you knew that a small sandwich was going to get him through the day. Well, you guessed it was two, as Dwight had made sure to feed him a dog food sandwich every other day to keep him going. A dark pork gravy from the brand Bisto (clubhouse is better but whatever) that was covering a large portion of the potatoes. Your father did always say that you made it taste even better when you made it.

Your eyes peeked around the sharp corner to make sure Arat was on her way to her break that she always made sure to hide, always quick on her feet to head to her room to get several strong minutes of shut-eye.

Your eyes caught sight of Arat quietly creeping her way further and further away from Daryl's new home. You waited a couple of minutes until you were sure she was in her room, possibly already captivated by sleep. You placed one foot in front of the other as you too, crept down the hallway, the fear of getting caught burning fear into her veins.

You balanced the tray on one hand as you reached into your left pocket, to pull out the cell key that you had stolen from Laura, well it wasn't quite stealing, she had dropped it and hadn't even noticed. You could still remember her confused face when she caught you on the ground after catching you mid-grab. You smiled at her and played it off as if you were tying your shoe, which she bought as she shot you a smile and continued on with her ranting.

You turned the key clockwise into the rusting metal, smiling in satisfaction when the lock clicked quietly as a sign that it was now unlocked.

The creak that was loudly pulled from the door as it was opened left you cringing as you quickly shuffled into the room, closing the door until there was only a fragment of it for a little bit of light but it wasn't large enough to draw suspicion towards your meetings.

You could already see Daryl gazing up at you as you pulled the door closed, before lowering yourself to the floor, holding your hands out as a sign for him to take the plate which he did. He had loosened up a large amount since you had started being him food a week ago.

He was still stand-offish and didn't like to talk about his group which you didn't blame him for, you were with the enemy, you were his daughter. You weren't sure if he knew of your status at the sanctuary but if he did, it didn't come from you. It had already taken a great amount of effort to gain his trust and you wouldn't want it broken just because of who your father was.

If he brought it up, you would talk to him about it, but for now, you didn't want to risk losing one of the only people that didn't just suck up to you because they wanted more points or because they were scared to face your father's wrath if they hurt your feelings.

"Hey, sorry I was late, Arat took longer than usual to hit the deck." You quickly explained as expected the food in a curious glint in his eyes. "It's ham. Sorry, I didn't know if you liked it but they just killed a pig and me and my-... I had some for dinner earlier, it was good... and there's potatoes obviously, there's some cheese in them too with carrots and gravy." His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in question just as he had been since you had almost slipped up. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned well... at least I hope it isn't because I ate the same thing but I guess we'll find out."

He let a harsh breath out of his nose that sounded similar to a laugh before he picked up the metal fork before shoving a large bite of potatoes in his mouth, a barely audible groan fell from his lips as he continued to inhale the food, not even bothering to use the knife that you had brought to cut the meat, opting to just pick it up with his hands.

If it was anyone else you would find the wild eating disgusting, but you understood. He was being starved as a torture method to force him into submission. You had seen this countless times, but nearly all had caved within the first few days. It was shocking to you how strong he was. If it had been you... you weren't sure how long you could last if you were in the same position.

From how wild he was eating you could only assume today wasn't the day he got fed from Dwight.

You assumed you did well with the amount of food you had given him.

You kept your eyes trained on the opened part of the door to make sure the coast was clear still. Normally this side of the sanctuary was almost always deserted, but since Daryl as been held here, you had noticed a lot of working people wanted to catch a glimpse of one of the Alexandrians who had killed numerous soldiers. You weren't sure if was from fear or awe.

"Why are you doing this." He asked as he looked up from his half-eaten plate of food, to examine you while you spoke as if to see if you would lie to him.

"I don't like how he's handing this. I mean... what your group did was wrong. Really wrong. But what he's doing to you isn't right. No one should have to deal with this. I mean other than rapists, pedophiles, or child killers. I mean murder is really bad but there are some ways to excuse it, like self-defence but I mean the worlds over. People kill each other every day to survive. Don't make it right but it makes sense. You did what you thought you had to, to 'save' your group." You ranted slightly as you looked down.

"So you're doing this because I deserve better?" Daryl asked with a quiet snort as though he couldn't fathom the thought of someone actually thinking he was a decent guy.

"Everyone deserves better in some way. But no, some people just need a little help sometimes. You do, so I'm trying to help you." You said as watched him proceed with eating.

He looked up at you after he took yet another bite of his food. "I ain't need no help." He dismissed with a huff as he finished the last of his food.

"Obviously you do. Everybody does. You're no exception." You disagreed as he watched for any signs of Arat possibly returning earlier than usual.

"So why ya helping me? I'm sure the big man has more bitchs." He all but growled as he thought about your father causing your face to drop slightly as he kept your eyes away from him, in hopes of him not being able to see your full life story from just the shine in your eyes. Daryl looked like the type to be able to, you thought.

"He has some other... people in cells-" You were cut off by Daryl as he let out a dangerous scoff that should have had you scared. You were in a closed space with someone who wanted your father dead, I mean sure he didn't know that you and the man he hated most shared the same blood but it didn't matter. You were a Smith and that would never change. No matter how much you hoped and prayed that your father would suddenly turn a new leaf, it never seemed to happen. So at some point, you just saved your previously wasted breath.

"Ya mean prisoners?" He spoke sharply, his words not a question but a statement, showcasing how enraged he truly was with her father.

"Yeah...prisoners. There is some down here, yes. But they deserve it." You said while shaking your head as you thought about the awful people that were locked down here.

"Ain't nobody deserve this shit." He said with his whole chest as his eyes scanned your face with a mixture of hate and disgust at your words. You couldn't blame him though, he was locked in a cell and you had just said that the people locked in them deserved it.

"They're awful people. Rapists, child killers, people who kill without reason-"

"I ain't no rapist and I ain't no child killers. Me and my people had every righ-"

"Nobody has a right to take someone's life. Who made us god? When did we get to choose who got to live and who got to die?" You argued as you furrowed your brows at the man's words.

"How bout' ya tell yer buddy that? He killed my friends." He raised his voice louder than necessary which earned him a dirty look from you as you peeked out of the sliver of the door that shined light into the cell and once you were sure no one was coming with guns raised you turned back to face him.

"You killed dozens of his men while they were sleeping. You do realize that, right? I'm not saying what he did was right either, but you're lucky he didn't kill more of your people." You ranted slightly as you looked at him in confusion, he was so stuck in his own misery that he wasn't thinking about how other people were affected by his and his group's actions.

"Lucky? He bashed my friend's heads in." He said angrily but it was quiet. As if trying to scare you into submission but you didn't back down.

"And I'm sorry for your friends. I really am. But you couldn't have thought that your group could get away with slaughtering- and it was a slaughtering, his men and get away scot-free. You killed his soldiers. He takes that shit as a personal attack. So when I say I'm surprised he didn't kill more of you I mean it."

"One of my friends' wives was pregnant' ya think she deserved ta see that? Now tha' kid's gonna grow up without a father."

"Of course not. That's awful and I'm so sorry...but some of the men and women you slaughtered had kids. Wives. Parents. They had people who loved them too. One of the men, Mike, had a pregnant wife at one of the other outposts. She was eight months and gave birth to her baby girl two days after he died. Alone. And a woman, Mel, just got married to the man she loved, they were trying for a baby... He killed himself last week. Hung himself in his room all alone." You paused for a moment to see if he was going to speak up but when he didn't, you continued.

"An-and a woman named Willow had a baby at another outpost. Now that baby has to grow up without a mother. Another man named Carlos was an only child and had to work for points to provide for his parents. They're old and can't do it themselves. Now they're barely eating and are so depressed that their health is deteriorating, we're not sure how long they have left. So I'm sorry that your friends lost people they cared about but you didn't just get your group hurt with your guy's actions. You guys ruined so many lives that night."

You finished your rant as you shook your head, looking up at him only to see him looking down at his hands, his overgrown hair hung low to cover his eyes, masking his true reaction.

"I'm not trying to say that your friends' deaths don't matter but you can't just go around acting like you didn't kill people either. Like everyone else's pain doesn't matter to not feel guilty. But it does." You said quietly before deciding you had spent long enough in the stuffy cell. You reached over, grabbing the plate from in front of him before pulling yourself to your feet. You waited for him to speak again but he didn't bother and once you turned around he noticed that he hadn't moved from his place.

"Good night." You shook your head before he pulled the creaky door open a little more so the gap was large enough to fit your body through, closing it until you felt the metal clank quietly against metal.

You pulled out the key and shoved it into the lock, twisting it quickly before you heard quiet footsteps walking down the hallway from where Arat had left from. It seemed like you had left at the perfect time, you supposed.

You quietly but hastily quickened your pace until you were at the same corner you had looked over from around fifteen minutes prior.

You watched as Arat ran a hand over her short black and bleached blonde hair as she let out a yawn, swaying on her feet slightly from the over-tiredness she was experiencing, which was probably in full swing by the shortness of her sleep.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief before you quietly made your way in the direction of her room, the plate held tightly in your grasp as you walked past the mostly deserted sanctuary, sending a small smile to some of the saviours on watch duty. Most sent one back your way, while others seemed annoyed at the fact that they had duty at all, leaving them too aggravated to bother.

You were about to turn the handle of your door when you heard a voice stop you.

"Baby? What are you doin' up? It's late." Your father's voice stopped you in your tracks. A part of you wanted to run into your room and pretend that you had been sleepwalking but you knew your father knew you better than that and could almost always tell when you were fake sleeping. It was an odd talent if you were to be frank. So you turned around with a smile and spoke.

"I couldn't sleep. Decided to take a walk." You lied.

"With an empty plate of food?" He asked with raised eyebrows a sarcastic smirk on his face.

"...I got hungry on the way. Just heated up some leftovers from dinner. Didn't know that was a crime, Dad." You huffed in an attempt to sound believable.

"It's late. You could have woken me up. I would have walked with you." He said as he studied you.

"Seriously, dad? Literal armed guards are crawling the place. I think I'm okay walking to the kitchen. Plus you barely sleep as it is." You rolled your eyes at his mindset.

"I always have time for you, hunny... so who's the boy? Or girl. I don't discriminate. Hell, ya could be in love with a goddamn pumpkin and I would still approve. Maybe a little weirded out but hey, we all have our kinks." He smirked but his nose scrunched up slightly as he realized he was talking to his daughter and not one of his henchmen.

"Oh, wow, you figured it out. His name is Donteatmyseedsplease. I didn't want to keep it from you but I don't think you would approve. I'm so very glad I have your support, father dearest." You said in an overly happy voice even your eyes rolled with almost every word you spoke. You turned back to your door and turned ten knob, not going in as though to not give your father the opportunity to join you.

"You'll have to bring him over for dinner sometime we'll have squash."

"That wasn't funny Dad."

"Damn, you know how to wound a man's ego. Good girl, I taught you well." He said in a proud tone.

"I'm exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about something actually..." You spoke as you pushed your door open even wider than it had been and started to make her way into your large room.

"That's never good." He groaned before he leaned over to land a kiss atop your head. "I'll see you tomorrow, baby. I'm busy but I always have time for you." He pulled away and sent a smile your way which you returned before closing the door and leaning against it. A sigh of relief left your lips as you realized you were in the clear.

TAG LIST: @cult-of-norman @book-place @ilovespiderpeople @kazunish @mysouleaten

(let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list for the future chapters!)

#the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x platonic!reader #negan smith x daughter!reader #The walking dead x platonic!reader #The walking dead xteen!reader #daryl dixon x reader #Dark cell series

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