#and always so much PAIN and SADNESS and SHAME and ANGUISH

[lowgothree]

009. ༺ALWAYS, ALWAYS༻∘

a/n: last chapter why am i kinda sad, lol😬

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: happy ending 🥳. smut (am i going to hell for this? idk probably). reader is damn near mute at the start. they're both so very down bad. l-bombs. this is almost double the length of the other chapters so y'all better love me.

previous. next. masterlist.

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she half expected you to shut the door in her face. she wouldn’t have blamed you if you did — but you didn’t. you opened the door and you’re listening. 

what she thought she could get from olivia, that same thing she’d been craving and fighting for years, she gets so easily with you. just by your eyes meeting hers. you’re looking at her again — albeit in annoyance and hurt — but it’s still you and it’s still her. how it’s supposed to be. and there it is again. that feeling she had been uselessly chasing with olivia –– that pull. a feeling she only gets with you. she’s addicted to it. the way her heart begins to beat faster, how her eyes seem to be fixated on your pretty face, the way her body reposes in the wake of you. she feels so alive when she’s near you. 

she whispers your name, unlike the last time you’d heard her say it –– guilt ridden and shameful –– she says it in pure relief. her shoulders visibly relax when you don’t shut the door on her. she visibly relaxes at just the sight of you. as if her time away from her took away her ability to breathe and seeing you again, right in front of her and beautifully you, gave her back her air. 

“she isn’t you…” paige repeats, longing for you to say something. anything.

“what do you want me to say, paige?” you roll your eyes. “you want her? go have her.”

“i don’t.” she shakes her head, stepping forward, close enough that she could almost feel that familiar warmth of your body again. “i want you.”

her gaze disrupts any calm you might’ve felt. her words cleave the quiet. it leaves you silent. completely silent. 

“you were right. i was running…because i was scared.” she swallows thickly and you pause. she was scared? “but i’m not afraid anymore. i’m done running. i’m here and i won’t leave again. never again.”

“scared of what?” you almost don’t recognize your own voice, too in shock to process your words before they leave the gap between your lips.

“of this.” she gestures between the two of you. “i’ve never felt the way i do when i’m with you before. i just want another chance. i want to be yours and i want to spend the rest of my life making this up to you.” 

you hold your breath, remembering just how much you missed her. you missed her touch, her smell, her face, and the way she looked at you. you’re frozen at her words, at the tender look of desperation she gives you but you shake your head despite yourself. “i can’t be with you if you aren’t sure…”

the statement makes her heart sink. she had brought this on herself, she knew that. but it didn’t make it hurt any less. she doesn't like that she was the source of your anguish, it pained her. she’ll do anything to take that pain away. 

the frown on your face said it all; that she’d hurt you, that you were upset, and that you cared about her. that’s what she had relied on. it gives her the courage to reach out and touch you, to give herself that closeness she’d been craving since the minute she left. she grabs your waist and smiles at the way your body recognizes her touch. “i’m sure.” 

suddenly your mouth felt dry. sure, you had played this exact scenario over and over again in your head but you never expected it to actually happen. so you stay silent, desperately searching for words that never leave your mouth. 

“baby, i promise. i’m so sure. please.” she stresses, she’s sure. 

you’re staring at her, in shock and heart pounding, having a mental debate. holy shit say something. anything. but you can’t.

“just let me fix it…” she leans in, testing to see if you’ll pull away. you don’t. “let me deserve you.” 

you nod, finally able to speak again. finding yourself unable to deny her –– to deny yourself. “okay..”

and then she leans in more, letting her lips take their place on yours. she pulls you even closer and you walk backwards into the apartment, paige shuts the door behind herself. she pulls away from the kiss to smile at you. 

“i love you…” she whispers and you pause again, body almost malfunctioning. she what??

paige takes your silence as discomfort and immediately backs away from you with widened eyes. “oh…um, i’m sorry –– i mean, it’s true but you don’t have to say it back or anything i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable i just, fuck.”

you grab her hand, smiling softly at her. every hair on your body standing in the wake of her confession. “i love you too…”

at that moment paige feels almost every emotion; happiness at your words, anger at herself for running from this, guilt because she had hurt you. but you kiss all those thoughts away until her brain can only ideate one concrete picture: you. always you.

she can’t help it, she grabs your face and presses her lips to yours again. your kiss is hesitant. on one hand, she doesn’t deserve to taste you after what she’d done to you. on the other hand, she tastes so good. fuck, she taste like yours. 

she wanted to atone, to show you that she’d realized the error in her ways. she wanted you to forgive her completely for letting her fears hurt you. because you taught her something she’d never dreamed of learning before you. you taught her how to pay homage. 

“you know what else i missed?” she whispers in your ear making you laugh despite yourself. paige could always take the edge off. always able to make you laugh no matter the circumstances.

“i’m sure i could guess…” you let your hand reach underneath the hem of her hoodie so you could feel the bare skin of her waist.  she laughs too, with her whole chest and it’s beautiful. you’re just staring at her, basking in her euphoria and your heart swells. you’re in love bad.  “you’re so pretty…” you mumble, unable to stop yourself.

she smiles wide, all teeth and red cheeks. “stop…”

you shake your head. “no…you’re my girlfriend now so i can call you pretty as much i want to.”

her grin only seems to widen if possible and you can’t help but mirror it. “i love hearing that…”

“yeah?”

“mhm…i love hearing pretty much anything you say but especially that.” she kisses your jaw and you bring your hand from under her shirt to the back of her neck. “my girlfriend…” she whispers in awe and it makes you laugh again.

she starts to kiss your neck and your laughter immediately ceases. you also missed the sex. a lot.

you hold onto her for stability as your breathing quickens. “you never…told me what that other thing you missed was?”

“thought you were gonna guess?”

“i said i could guess.” you hum, pulling her face from your neck so you could hover your lips over hers. “but i wanna hear you say it.”

“well, you just forgave me so i wasn’t sure if it was a good time –– ”

“what do you have against makeup sex?” you tilt your head and she laughs. she doesn’t respond immediately but she places a chaste kiss on your mouth before she sucks in a breath.

“your room or mine?”

you don’t even answer her question. it doesn’t really matter, but hers is closer. you kiss her again as you back into her bedroom. 

she always liked being this close to you. close enough to hear your heavy breathing and to feel the warmth of your skin under her palms. she pulls you even closer. she gently pushes you down onto her bed, straddling you. “did you miss having me like this, baby?”

you shudder, nodding. “mhm…” and then you take a good look at her attire. “are you hot?”

she smirks. “you tell me.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re annoying.”

paige chuckles but nods. “yeah…normally it’s cold as shit in this apartment but for some reason it’s literally hell in here.”

“ac broke. and you’re kinda overdressed.” you lay back on her comforter, rubbing her thighs. “i’m surprised you didn’t say anything sooner. you love to complain.”

“i just got everything i want…i have nothing to complain about.” she smiles and then groans, not thinking twice about taking her hoodie off. “gotta get that fixed, babe…” she starts kissing up your neck and then tugs at your shirt for you to take it off.

you lift it over your head with a hum before laying back down so she can resume her kisses. “yeah. maintenance guy comes tomorrow.”

“good.” she nods in acknowledgement. “take off your pants.”

“i wanna touch you first…” you whisper but paige just shakes her head.

“no…i want to give you a proper apology.”

you chuckle. “well, i’m not gonna say no.”

you watch her body in anticipation as she climbs off of you and slowly takes your pants off. she settles between your legs, locking her arms around your waist to keep you pressed firmly down into the bed and your breathing quickens. she kisses your stomach and then both your thighs, sucking little reminders into the soft flesh so that you can remember how she felt tomorrow. it makes you squirm but her grip never falters.

“stop teasing.” you buck your hips but she holds you there. that’s another thing you loved about paige. she’s so strong. when she finally does put her mouth where you want it, she’s lazing about it. but still exact.

she eats you out with precision only a woman begging for forgiveness could have. you can’t help the sounds you’re making but you’re far too turned on to be embarrassed by them. 

it’s all you can do to slump in her hold and just watch her, the way her mouth devours you and the way her eyes watch your every reaction. the sight is so lewd you could cum from just watching her work.

“feels so good…” you mewl, clinging to the bed sheets so hard your fingers cramp. she looks up at you, reaching for your hand to lace your fingers with hers.

she knows it does. she learned exactly how to please you and she was proud of that. she knew exactly how you liked it.

she knows when you’re about to come. almost before you do. she makes sure to continue doing exactly what she’s doing because she knows that’s what you’d be begging her for if you could speak right now. but she’s happy all you can do is be pretty and take it. take her apology and cling onto her.

she rides it out for you, only pulling away when you’re too sensitive for her to keep going. she smiles at you. it’s smug.

“shut up…” your chest is heaving and there’s a thin layer of sweat coating your skin. she feels almost prideful that she did that to you. she gets the sudden, intense desire to touch you so she does. she reaches up to caress your cheek. 

“so beautiful…” her voice is starstruck again and you chuckle tiredly. 

“enough.” you whisper tiredly. “come here…your turn.”

she slowly moves closer to you, you lick your lips when you notice how red she is. how turned on she is just from pleasing you.

you help her out of her pants, and then you sit up so she can straddle you again. she hovers over you and you stare at her for a moment. “what do you want?”

she knows better than to be shy about it. she trusts you too much to be shy about it. “your fingers. please.”

you can’t help but snicker.

“please? when did you get manners?” 

“i’ve always had manners.” she mutters.

“you sure about that?”

she nods, eyes sparkling at you and you poorly attempt to bite back a smile. 

“cute…but save it for azzi or something.” you chuckle before you circle her clit with two fingers. she immediately groans and the sound is mesmerizing. “feel good?”

she nods again and you don’t even try to hide your smile this time. “how good?”

she sucks in a deep breath when you pick up your pace a little. “really good. don’t stop.”

“wasn’t planning on it.”

“i kinda expected you to get me all worked up and then leave me like this as punishment.” she half laughs, half whimpers.

“hmm…i didn’t think about that. maybe i should just –– “ you slip your fingers away from her and she whines but you chuckle softly. “i’m just kidding…i’d never do that to you.”

“and miss a chance to torture me? i don’t believe you.” she can barely speak in full sentences with how good your hand feels on her. 

“and miss a chance to see how pretty you look when you come?” you mock her tone of voice when you rebuttal.  “never.”

she moans, something she rarely does and this time it’s your turn to be smug. she hides her face in your neck, embarrassed by how quickly you can weaken her.

as much as you want to make her look at you, you don’t want to embarrass her further so you just move your fingers harder against her.

“you smell really good…” paige mutters in between soft moans and then she cringes. “sorry, that’s probably weird to say right now.”

you dismiss her, fingers never changing pace. “no…it’s okay. thank you. you’re really sweet when you wanna be.”

“i’m always sweet.” her voice is practically slurred as she starts to feel the knots building up in her stomach. “i’m so close…”

you keep going until her legs start shaking, pulling your hand away from her and kissing her sweetly.

she pushes you to lay down again so she can wrap her arm around you and cuddle you. for a moment, you’re both silent. just settling in the afterglow, kissing softly here and there and smiling at each other. until you speak.

“you know…” you pant against her lips, she rubs your thighs and hums as you pull away slightly to talk. “i’ve wanted you since you moved in here…”

“yeah? why didn’t you say anything?” she chuckles, pulling you impossibly closer.

“i don’t know. so many reasons.” you stare into her eyes, meeting her smile. she leans in to kiss your jaw and then whispers in your ears. 

“name a few.”

you roll your eyes, they’re all obvious. “olivia for starters –– ” she groans, hiding her face in your neck which makes you laugh. “plus, i didn’t wanna rock the boat.”

she shakes her head, pulling back to look you in the eyes. her voice is pure silk when she whispers softly, “from the moment i first saw you…that ship sailed.”

you snicker, putting a hand over paige’s face. “cheesy…”

“you love it.” she kisses your neck again. “you love me.”

you nod in agreement but that isn’t enough. most likely, it never will be. she lets her hands trail your waist exploratorily. “say it.”

you shudder at the command in her voice. even if you could deny her, why would you want to? 

“i love you...”

#rock the boat! #paige bueckers x reader #god i'm so awkward abt this chapter too!! #might deactivate my whole shit rn #we'll see

[trigunsbbygirl]

I read both your Vash and Knives reverse isekais and loved them. I wad just sad that the brothers were split up again, so what if you wrote both brothers appearing in our world? That way they can be together and be happy?

ofc!! they deserve to be happy and just be silly little brothers together again hhbmmn

anyways sorry in advance I think I was possessed by like Miku or smth bc I do not shut up about music for the first like 600 words idek why

also kinda bring up potential v relationship for a bullet point or two, but yeah, many thoughts on the two of them..

•do not split them up! (I say after having split them up lol)

•but what I mean is, congratulations! you now have two(2) roommates!🎉 (rip if you live in a v small apartment lol)

•like I said in my Knives isekai hcs, he gets into composing music, but! this time Vash learns along with him and they make music together often. when they collaborate the songs usually end up being longer than 5 minutes and they always have intense emotions put into them. there'll be a soothing piano/violin/flute part before it crescendos into chaos.

•this is kinda their way of dealing with their past with eachother. they haven't talked about it all yet, (they will eventually, it's just a very big can of worms to open that will probably take years to go through and neither one is quite ready) but for now, making music together like this is how they deal with it,,

•over time, especially after Vash and Nai have started deailing with everything,, their songs together do get less anguished, pained and sad, and overall feel much more light. they took a bit of a break during that time, but after the two got past the hardest parts, they wanted to make a new song together and it was rather peaceful. a bit melancholic at times but the song ended happy.

•Vash gets into writing lyrics more than Nai does, although Nai does read over Vash's work and gives suggestions when asked. but when Nai does write lyrics, damn does he do an amazing job.

•Vash does the singing too! unfortunately, I don't think Nai would be too into singing, maybe just being a low harmony just barely audible against Vash's voice and the music. it's a shame, he probably has an insanely good singing voice;(

•if you're into singing Vash begs you to sing the songs he writes, even if you're not great at it. if you agree, he's got the biggest grin on his face, his eyes sparkling. Vash listens very intently, taking in the way you sing every note and syllable. he's committing it to memory and when you're done, Vash bombards you with compliments, saying you should sing more.

•Nai is a little more subtle with asking you to sing any songs he writes, but the way he stares at you a day after you sang for Vash is not. Nai won't ask for you to sing for him, rather, waiting for you to come to him and ask. (it's something Vash is trying to work on with Nai, that it's okay to ask for stuff and that you won't appear weak or next or whatever. idk how to explain it but I hc Nai trying to twist his wants/emotions to appear that you want it rather than him bc of pride and stubbornness? if that makes sense)

•anyways, you tell Vash about Nai staring at you a lot lately, and Vash thinks for a moment before saying he thinks Nai just wants you to sing for him, but he's just stubborn. Vash suggests that you ask if you could sing one of Nai's songs since he doesn't think Nai will actually ask.

•when Nai is listening to you sing, he switches between listening with his eyes closed and watching you carefully. it's honestly a little nerve-racking, but when you're done singing he opens his eyes with a small smile barely showing on his face and says, "you have a nice voice."

so sorry I went crazy with music for a second anyways

•Vash forces Nai to join in on movie night every weekend. Nai doesn't really care about movies but Vash loves them and there's so many he wants to see!

•Nai will watch them but he's got a scowl on his face the whole time, especially if it's a romance or comedy. or both.. he does like mystery and horror movies if they're done well. (I think he'd really like 1982 The Thing (much to Vash's dismay.) Nai really likes the practical effects and mood of it.)

•Nai is also lowkey really happy that he can watch cowboy movies again. unless a movie has really caught his eye, he usually picks westerns. they both really like Rango!

•Vash on the other hand, hates horror movies, especially if they're gorey. but, it was Nai's turn to choose so he'll try to endure it. he stays glued to your side, hugging your arm, and if he's too scared by the end, Vash will ask to sleep with you.

•Vash loves animated movies and comedies! he rewatches a lot of movies like Into the Spiderverse, Puss in Boots. he loves signing along to songs in movies, it's really cute.

•stupid thought that just came up but, if somehow Vash hadn't learned about rabbits and he watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail, he'd sit there wondering if that's what rabbits are actually like.

•there's a song called SEKAI-chan and KAFU-chan's Errand Ensemble and I can envision Vash and Nai having moments like the song.

like Vash wants a certain food, but they don't have ingredients and Nai is like just wait, we're going to the store tomorrow we'll have this instead. but Vash refuses and forces Nai to do rock-paper-scissors, and when Vash wins he's forcing Nai out the door.

•Vash usually forces Nai to go shopping with him. the times that he doesn't, Nai notices that Vash buys a lot of donuts and so Nai brings himself with everytime now so it doesn't happen again. Vash whines saying that they're cheap, but Nai argues that they've got so much dessert at home thanks to Vash already, they don't need more. Vash has a donut restriction now;( 3 a week and he can only bring a box home once a month. the only exception is when Vash makes the donuts himself. you guys always have so many donuts.

•Vash and Nai get insanely good at Mario Kart and they're both brutal too. they get really good at sniping with green shells and bananas it's a little scary. so, good luck getting first. Vash may be nicer and cheer you on if you get into first, but Nai is ruthless and competitive;; (okay there may be a few times where he let's you win but he'll never admit it, even if it's obvious.)

•they aren't afraid to play dirty either lol. they'll punch and push eachother and Nai will use his blade tentacles(?) to try and obscure Vash's vision. Vash will try to just grab Nai's controller and keep it away from him.

•you know it's just silly sibling rivalry, but sometimes you worry it'll just turn into a fist fight. it never actually does and when they're done playing Vash turns to Nai and says "haha good games, I had fun:)" and Nai replies, "likewise."

•it's the same with other games like that too.

•while Nai is more into cooking, Vash loves baking! you always come home to see Vash decorating a dessert or pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven. he's really excited and wants to try as many foods as he can. there's so many different types!

•Vash tends to make a lot of deserts and bread, especially donuts, so when that happens, he's offering them to the neighborhood or apartment complex.

•Vash also shows Nai recipes he wants to try eating and begs Nai to make them. Vash helps by cutting any vegetables or shredding food, but Nai does the mixing and cooking. you've asked if they needed any help but Vash just smiles and says that 'they've got it and that you don't to worry about anything. you just sit back and rest until the food is ready!'

•it's the least they could do they think, since they most likely can't get a job, you know, with no ssn, birth certificate and identity cards..

•you still do the dishes though and Vash always tries to help. if you refuse he kinda sulks before just wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. it makes it a bit difficult to move around but you don't mind. he just wants to hang out with you<3

•getting into romance hcs a little, neither of them would make a move on you until after they've started talking and working on their past. not only are tensions high between them, but it would also be too many emotions to deal with. especially Nai. he hardly even acknowledges you in the beginning.

•Vash on the other hand jokingly flirts with you, and if you're comfortable with touch, pats your shoulder, puts an arm around it, hugs you and so on. but it never passes from friendly gestures, even if he does like you.

•if they find out they both like you, it kinda gets tense in an awkward way. they just started learning how to live with eachother, now they have to navigate having feelings for you?

•Nai is actually the first one to bring it up to Vash, stating bluntly that they both like you and it's getting annoying skirting around it. there really isn't too much to talk about, they decide to let things play out. if you end up having feelings for either twin, the other would be happy and supportive. if you like both Nai and Vash, it takes another little talk between all three of you before they're nodding along and saying that they could definitely try for you. it's a little bumpy at first, but you guys make it work<3

•also they don't try to fight over you or try to win you over in any way. Vash may be a little more touchy and Nai more expressive with you, but it's just to try and show you that they like you.

•Vash loves painting everyone's nails. Nai grumbles a little, but he always indulges Vash as long as it isn't a neon color.

•Nai dresses formally in a comfortable way, a (usually white or light blue) button up with the sleeves rolled up and dress pants. it's always either black or white socks and they go past his ankle too so you can't see his skin when he sits down</3 he also always irons his clothes after they've been washed.

•Vash on the other hand dresses a lot more casual, maybe picks up on streetwear? lots of hoodies though, he loves them! his wardrobe is colorful, but there's still more red than any other color

•after 120+ years, they finally get to celebrate a birthday together:(!!! and really, I think it's the first time they'd actually celebrate their birthday in general, Nai seeing no point in it really and Vash thinking he doesn't deserve to celebrate it.

•but! it's their first birthday together again after they've made up so Vash wants to go all out and celebrate eachother and the fact that they have made up.

•lets ignore that money exists for a bit but, Vash goes ALL out. he's decorating the whole living room and kitchen with streamers, balloons, flowers, anything he can get his hands on. Vash buys his and Nai's and favorite drinks and snacks, he's setting the snacks up in fancy looking plates, and even if it were just juice, he's pouring it into wine glasses.

•he gets a fancy two teir white cake with the edges frosted a light blue, with those pearl candies evenly placed on them. there's also frosted flowers placed in certain areas too. the top has happy birthday! written in cursive. (I can't describe it for shit but trust me it's a really pretty cake.)

•a week before, Vash is begging you to take Nai grocery shopping on the day of their birthday so Vash can set everything up.

•Nai knows something is up when Vash refuses to go shopping, trying to keep a straight face, but he decides not to question Vash. he supposed it had something to do with their birthday, so the two of you go shopping.

•Nai can't lie, he's actually really happy to be spending birthdays with his twin again after so many years. he may not have celebrated his birthday, but it was a bit of a lonely and upsetting day. he's thankful that he can be with Vash in peace now, that their presence with eachother is no longer filled with exasperation and violence.

•when you two get home and Nai opens the door, Vash is there, pulling on the string of a confetti popper, yelling out happy birthday before throwing himself at Nai for a hug. Nai only grunts a little, taking in the decorated house as he wraps an arm around Vash. "you know we're going to have to clean this all up?"

Vash only laughs, pulling away with the biggest grin, "it's our first birthday together in forever! of course I had to go all out!"

•even though it's just the three of you, it's a lot of fun. Vash completely spoiled Nai with presents (some heartfelt, others practical, and a few that were just gag gifts. Nai scowls at those much to Vash's joy.) Nai had gotten him a lot more useful/practical gifts, but he did buy Vash a geranium earring and when Vash opens the box, Nai explains that he has the second earring. Vash tears up, immediately putting it on and forcing Nai to put on the other one. he takes a lot of selfies with Nai after that.

•towards the end of the day Vash is asking to make a pillow fort so that you all can have a movie marathon of everyone's favorite movies. it's a little crowded at first with how tall they are, but you all get comfy and they end up cuddled against you.

•you and Vash fall asleep first and Nai notices that, he turns off the movie and device before quietly getting out of the fort to put away leftover food and drinks. once he's done, Nai gets back in and gets back into the position he was in earlier, cuddled up to you, deciding to sleep as well.

#trigun headcanons #trigun x reader #vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #millions knives x reader #reverse isekai

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hey friend!! Me again!

Can I please request:

Daryl Dixon x Wife!Reader (Prison Era)

After the group escapes from Woodbury and Daryl and Merle reunite, Daryl is forced to choose either his wife and family or Merle! Maybe wife tries to convince and in the end you choose what he picks!?

Love your blog and your writing!! ❤️

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

― pairing: daryl dixon x wife plus size!reader

― era: eeason 3

― summary: as sad as it was to say, with merle gone, your relationship with your husband grew stronger than ever, and now that he's back, you're afraid that your marital bliss might have been short lived.

― warnings: arguing, fat shaming, sexism, merle just being merle, mentions of drug deals, mentions of past arguing.

― wc: 1117

⋆ a/n: AHHH THIS WAS SUCH A FUN WRITE. i don't know, maybe some may see this as daryl being out of character, but this is just what i would imagine daryl choosing. thank you for your request! it was a super fun one even though it took me literally centuries to make!!

masterlist | AO3

Merle had always been a thorn in Daryl and your asses. Him and you had been together before the fall, and it was safe to say that your relationship was strained would be an understatement. You couldn’t stand the older brother’s constant rude comments and crude teasing, or the fact that he always felt the need to bring Daryl with him on his drug runs, risking his life more than once, and even getting him arrested at one point. You couldn’t just bail out one Dixon brother, but if you had the choice, you would’ve left Merle there to rot.

He was the reason why Daryl and you were on the brink of breaking up, that you had fought all the time and couldn’t even function as a stable couple. It was like Daryl was a whole different person when his brother wasn’t around, he was the man that you fell in love with; the one that was sweet and showed his love in his own way, not the one that would pick fights or explode on you, leaving the house for prolonged periods of time in a fit of rage.

You were ashamed to say that the apocalypse started, it had brought out Daryl’s soft side for you, rushing home as soon as he could to come and get you. Sadly, when he showed up, Merle was right behind him, bitching about how you ruined a deal that would have brought him a lot of money, and it just wasn’t a loss that you could bring yourself to care about. Soon, all of you soon found that money would forever be irrelevant as the dead had begun to eat the living.

You were grateful for Shane’s group allowing you guys to tag along despite the pair being quite the characters.

When Rick had confessed that he left Merle handcuffed to a roof, there was a shameful spark of relief, but before that flame could burn brighter, Daryl’s painful cries of anguish were quick to extinguish it. Even though the two of them had a funny way of showing it, they loved each other, so much to the point where he had demanded to be taken to where his older brother had been holed up, and when they had come back, that’s when chaos had ensued.

He had never held you as tight as he did then, when you guys were at the CDC, when Carl had gotten shot and then Daryl had gotten hurt looking for Sophia, and then when the farm had been over run.

It had been a long time since then, and what’s left of you guys had begun to create a new home, in the prison.

It was peaceful for a while, even after Lori’s death and the birth of Judith.

Then there was the Governor. When you had heard he had taken Glenn and Maggie, it was like you were losing everything all over again, and to add on top of it, Daryl had been taken.

You swore your heart sank when he had come out with Merle.

“He’s not coming with us!” You heard Glenn tell as you guys arrived at the car. “Like hell he ain’t!” Daryl argued. “He tortured me, and Maggie…” Before he could say anything else, Maggie had cut him off.

“Enough!”

“Daryl.” You called his name to draw his attention towards you. “I hate to say this, but they’re right. He is an asshole.”

“Well, ain’t it nice to see you too, tubby.” Merle laughed. “Fuck you, Merle.” You bit. “Alrigh’ enough.” Daryl said sharply. “C’mon little brother, you gonna let her talk to me like that, your blood?” You scoffed, “Blood? Please. You haven’t acted like you’ve been blood since the day I started living with you.” You turned your attention back to Daryl.

“Looks like you’ve got to choose.” Merle snarled with a smile.

Daryl was conflicted.

On one hand, Merle was right, they were blood, brothers to be precise. He must admit that yeah, he wasn’t the best, but they went through everything together. On the other, Daryl had entrusted you with parts of him that he would never tell Merle in fear of being called a pussy or worse. You cared for him, reassured him, calmed him down, you had become his vice, his wife. Yes, you guys had gotten married; it wasn’t anything too big, just Daryl slipping on a wooden ring he had made you, the both of you acknowledging your newfound titles together.

“Dar,” You said as you pulled him out of his thoughts, “Think about what we’ve gone through, what we’ve been doing, what we’ve been building. We have something good going for us. Do you think we would have gotten married, let alone still be together if he was still around?” You asked the last part quietly, but it seems as though Merle had heard it.

“Well, I’ll be damned, it looks like you’ve gotten comfortable Darlena.” He eyed you up and down. “I thought you would’ve gotten rid of her by now, but I guess you’re pussy whipped for a fat broad.” For the first time, Daryl stood up to his brother, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“Watch what yer sayin’ about my wife, jack ass.” Daryl all but growled at him. You could tell a fight was about to break out between the two of them, and you’d see in before. When they would fight when you all lived together, punches would be thrown, things also thrown at one another, a scene that you would be forced to clean up as Daryl did the same, albeit guiltily.

“Hey, hey, hey. Everyone just calm down.” Rick said as he tried to quickly diffuse the situation.

“Nah,” Daryl said as he let his brother go, “were done. C’mon.” He left no room for argument as he grabbed you by your hand and tugged you towards the car where the rest of them waited. There were stars in your eyes as you allowed him to lead you away, Merle’s threats and calls falling on deaf ears.

The ride back to the prison was tense but comfortable, your head resting on your husband’s shoulder as he stared out the window.

“Hey,” You called out to him softly. He turned his head to look at you, his teeth nibbling at the skin of his lip. “I know what you did was hard, and I appreciate what you did for me. I love you, Daryl, and I won’t ever forget about this.” His grip on your hand tightened as he released his lip.

“I love ya too, sunshine. Yer my family now.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy

#✰ ― meau's inbox ! #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x plus size reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #fanfiction #fluff #angst #husband daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon blurb #daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #twd #the walking dead

[madcatdaderpydrawer-blog]

Whump 7

He’s deserves this. He knows he does. It doesn’t stop the pounding in his head, ringing practically deafening all other thoughts. The way his heart twists in a bitter anguish he’s all to deserving of. 

Moon had been scolded prior to his patrols that night for the amount of damages his twin had obtained when he had been infected. It was.. a lot to take in, in far more detail then he ever would’ve wanted to know. Even just thinking about it made him want to cry, but he didn’t deserve the privilege of release. Not after what he did. He could barely focus for his entire patrol, all the information he had learned festering in his head. By the time the hour was over he was barely holding on by a thread, rushing into the naptime room and slamming the door shut before collapsing into a heap on the floor.

Why is he the one miserable? He wasn’t the one who got beat, practically got tortured because of HIS inability to keep himself in check! Stupid, monster FREAK! Despite his best effort, he can feel himself spiraling. But for once he doesn’t want it to stop. Why should it stop? He deserves this. Moon deserves so much worse then he’s been given. He’s lucky to even BE HERE! Memories wash over him as he wraps his arms around himself, trying to physically hold him together. His talons get caught on the ridges in his arms, and his fingers curl into the gaps in his suit subconsciously. He wouldn’t blame Sun if he never wanted to see him again. He could’ve killed him, the only reason he didn’t was to keep him like some twisted toy! Because for some ungodly reason pain is the only damn thing that can get through to him. The only thing he deserves. He’s always been worthless, dangerous, scary, and yet they trusted him! Sun trusted him, and he BETRAYED HIM!

Moons talons wrack harshly down his arms, the screech of metal and plastic filling his audio receptors. His arms explode with agony and a soft sob bubbles out of him. But this is what he deserves, right? He deserves to be miserable, cold and in pain. He should be-

Warm. Warm, soft yellow hands gripped his own tightly. When did they...?

Sun takes his brief pause to gently pry his hands out of the gouges marking his arms, intertwining their hands. He could feel his body trembling, and his heart twinged with sadness. There was a distant look in his eyes that struck something deep within him, and he was fairly certain that Moon wasn’t fully there right now. Giving his hands a light squeeze, he tries to usher Moon toward the nap room door only for him to freeze in place.

“N..No.. basement.” He whimpers out, and Sun bites his lip. As much as it would probably be safer to bring him down to be repaired properly, especially due to the extent of the damage, after the infection the employees hadn’t been very kind to him. With how vulnerable he was physically and emotionally, any interactions would go very poorly. He squeezed his hands again, conceding with a soft sigh.

“Okay. No basement. I’m going to fix you here, alright?” No response. Sun gently dragged Moon further into the naptime room, sitting him down on a comfy pile of pillows and pulling out some electrical tape and baby wipes. He gently cleaned off the wounds, wincing as the coolant is cleared revealing the extent of the damage. He tried to keep him preoccupied from the pain while he worked, rubbing circles on his cheek with one hand while he worked. Gradually, that foggy look in his eyes started to fade, being replaced by a crushing shame. Sun frowns at that, gently nuzzling into his neck. 

“Is alright. Your fine.”

“.... I was doing.. so good, too..” Sun hummed empathetically at that. Moon had been struggling with self destructive behavior for a while, tending to hurt himself in his fits of panic, but he’d been getting better recently. Well, for the most part..

“It’s alright, Moon. Everyone relapses sometimes. You’re working on it, and that’s all that matters... That’s all that matters.”

#fnaf security breach au #tw self harm #though its accidental #still pretty damn prominent #redemption au #post infection #daycare attendant #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf sun #sunrise #sundrop #whumptober #tw self hatred

[chouxtranslations]

Shizun - Story arcs summary (SPOILERS!!)

I’m taking a break from translating for a while. So I thought I’d post a summary of the story and some of the lines that I really liked.

ch 1 - Prologue.

Mo Changkong is imprisoned for 10,000 years for his crimes and leaves to find his Shizun.

Ch 2-7 - Intro.

Mo Changkong rescues Lu Yunzhen from death and moves in with him. They dispel their first spirit.

Ch 8-14 - Skin painting demon arc.

Jin Yunu sleeps with Long Jingtian, who then hires our main duo to exorcise him. Hijinks ensue and Jin Yunu ends up moving in with our protagonists as a housekeeper/house pet.

Ch 15 - 22

He Mengmeng hires our protagonists for an exorcism. Our gang deals with an incel programmer and settles into their role. Once again our protagonists impress other people involved with their abilities, this time with some Buddhist monks who were also trying to exorcise the ghost.

Ch 24 - 32

Third shidi is here! Our beloved fox idol Hu Sui has arrived to take care of his Shizun and we get a lot of funny hijinks.

Ch 33 - 46

Lesbian bee arc! Lu Yunzhen’s friend Ming Jie gets lured by an online idol who happens to be a bee goddess who’s just trying to make a good world for her followers. Unfortunately for her, she is very, very dumb. Fortunately for her her best friend An doesn’t mind at all and they have an absolutely lovely backstory.

She wanted to be the strongest queen by An’s side.

Ch 46 - 66

Flashback arc. Hu Sui sets up an elaborate scheme to trick Mo Changkong into revealing what happened in the past. Hu Sui berates Mo Changkong for keeping it all to himself, reveals that both shidis still consider him family and have been trying to help him for 10,000 years.

“A-Sui, let’s go home”

Hu Sui leaned on his shoulders and remembered about the past in a daze. His vision was blurry and his heart felt shaken. He didn’t know what to say.

The mountain path was dark, the steps were steady.

The stars filled the sky and the milky way showed their path...

Mo Changkong quietly said, “A-Sui, I’m sorry.”

The most proud of demons said the most clumsy of spologies.

Hu Sui’s eyes suddenly filled with tears again. He rubbed into his da shixiong’s back, until his stupid shixion’s clothes were dirty...

The ten thousand years of pain and anguish aren’t important anymore.

Wujian peak isn’t a home if a single one of them was missing.

He’s going to go home.

Ch 67 - 74

Second shidi is here! The steadfast crown prince He Jinnan was an old man in a young body since he was a kid. There there, grandpa, it’ll all be alright. He reveals that there must have been a greater conspiracy in the past and apologizes for not helping enough back then.

“Shizun was right, your nature isn’t bad.” He Jinnian sighed quietly and smiled wryly. “Even thought you always acted mean and said you hated me and A-Sui, you still designed cultivation arrays that are good for mortals, helped me go through the sword forms, and you always noticed where A-Sui went and helped him come home when he got lost...”

Mo Changkong denied it subconsciously, “No, Shizun made me do it.”

Shizun always talked about friendship and companionship. Shizun always told him to take care of his shidi. He was worried that Jinnian would be too useless and be an embarrassment to the sect, he was worried that A-Sui would get into trouble and make Shizun sad. That’s why he did it begrudgingly.

“Da shixiong, when you were at your most despairing, you came to us for help, but we didn’t realize...” He Jinnian lowered his head in shame. “You’re an never before seen talent, with a natural born sword heart. Everything was easy for you. But I’m just a talentless trash. No matter how much I trained I couldn’t learn Shizun’s sword forms. That’s why I was envious of you, I hated you. That’s why, when you described your troubles, I didn’t have patience, I didn’t listen, and I didn’t realize what was wrong...”

Mo Changkong was bad at communication, especially around this subject. He thought they were speaking of someone else and casually responded without even listening to the whole thing. “That kind of trash should die.”

That might have been the last straw for da shixiong. There was no one else he could turn to for help and fell into hell until he became insane.

Mo Changkong denied it again, “I didn’t.”

He knows that he was wrong, he knows that he should have died. But he couldn’t bear to leave Shizun. He really did know, but he couldn’t leave, and he didn’t know what to do.

He Jinnian quietly replied, “You weren’t wrong, you were just ill.”

Mo Changkong looked at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, we discovered it too late. In A-Sui’s message it proved that Shizun was right.” He Jinnian reached out his hand, grasped his struggling shixiong, and held him tightly. This was a hug that was late by 10,000 years. This was an apology that was buried in his heart for 10,000 years. “You’re very ill. Please don’t be afraid, please don’t be worried, don’t take it all on yourself, let us help you, please?”

This is his most stubborn feelings.

Mo Changkong wasn’t used to being treated this way. He stood still, then tried to reach out his hand and pat his shidi on the shoulder. After a long time, he remembered the phrase that Shizun had taught him.

“Thank you.”

Ch 75 - 93

The transmigration arc+honeymoon arc! Another one of Lu Yunzhen’s friends is in trouble and they have to transmigrate into a fictional world to help.

We have a confession!

“I’m not gay, I don’t have any feelings towards other men.” Lu Yunzhen was still stubbornly holding onto his pride as a straight man. “Changkong is a sword spirit, he doesn’t have a biological gender. When he woke up, he thought he was a man so he’s a man. ... Honestly, I like him regardless of what gender he would have been.”

Ch 94 - 108

Super cute dating arc. Now that they’re official everyone is being nosy about it :3 Old friends keep showing up and it’s hilarious.

“Am I the only person in the world who’s ever come out of the closet?! Is this some kind of strange thing?” He asked He Jinnian desperately, “How did the news get about so fast?”

Ch 109 -114

Cat arc. Shizun is a cat. Cat zun.

That is all.

Ch 115 - 133

The setup for the final battle, we finally learn about the villain and the deaths that originally led to Mo Changkong’s imprisonment.

Ch 134

The truth is revealed. Mo Changkong used to be Yunzhen’s sword, as a sword cultivator he was absolutely obsessed with it. But, he had lost the sword while saving some people and became absolutely dejected. When he finally found Mo Changkong, he had been corrupted into a demon and gained sentience but no longer had any memories of his life before. Desperate, Yunzhen declared himself Changkong’s Shizun and took him in. He always felt like it was his fault that Mo Changkong couldn’t be the most perfect sword he was meant to be and that the corruption was his fault. He decides that he would do whatever it took to make sure Mo Changkong cultivates into a sword god to fully cleanse himself of demonic influences.

What he doesn’t know is that Mo Changkong had only ever wanted to be his sword and didn’t want godhood at all. Now, Mo Changkong is still a demon, and Lu Yunzhen is too weakened to wield him again, it’s all too late, but they still have each other.

Ch 135 - 142

Finale!

They finally confront the villain who had been setting them up this whole time and uncover the petty grudge that had been going for over 10,000 years.

Lu Yunzhen has long since decided that since he lost Mo Changkong last time trying to protect innocents, neither of them were going to make that mistake again.

“Changkong, I love this world.”

“Changkong, I love you.”

They overcome the final hurdle and earn their happily ever after!

The end

What’s missing from this summary: our protagonists being absolutely besotted with each other. The most embarrassing of flirting. Lu Yunzhen being obsessed with his sword and carving brands into it over and over agian, not knowing Mo Changkong will do the same to him later down the line. Lu Yunzhen being that one danmei protagonist who has loads of friends and their wonderful chemistry together. Etc etc etc. Man I love this story! 

#shizun

[yostresswritinggirl]

In those 5 years I have waited, it's only until now did I realize that you had abandoned me.

When the time comes where you came across this memory, I hope you have forgiven yourself like how I to you.

"My beloved Emperor... Smile one more time for me, I hope I will get to see it one more time."

Smiling as I was led to the execution ground, mouthing this words to you. My tears won't flow out, my eyes hurt so much. Everything is so blurry but you will always shine like gold in my eyes.

"On this day, please forget your shameful past and be reborn into a great dragon with a golden future."

As I felt my neck got severe from my body, I closed my eyes. I do not wish for you to see my horrible eyes. May your memories about me will always be peaceful.

As the traitor's head got severed, all the people cheered as they have now gotten their punishment.

Yet the Emperor was quiet. As he stared straight at the execution place, his eyes were lost. His mind wandering from afar.

3 weeks later, rumors has it that the Emperor went crazy. He killed and killed, making red stain his palace. Others said he got possessed, while others say he showed his true colors. The once kind and gentle Emperor in their impressions were gone, replacing him with a tyrant in their eyes.

He went out to walk around in his garden. When he saw a spot of blooming flowers in a small, inconspicuous spot.

He saw someone taking care of the flowers, as he went closer, the memories that he buried about his past resurfaced.

"What are you doing?"

The young prince asked the gardener, the gardener answered, "Planting my favorite flowers, dark red carnations."

"What does those mean?"

"They meant 'Deep Love' my prince."

- 🥗 Anon (Don't ask, I just want to share it 😭 HURT/NO COMFORT IS THE BEST FOR STRESS)

Day after day, months after months, years after years I will always be waiting for you.

Right here, under the tree where we first met, where we said our vows, where we made our promises to each about our future. Even if this tree wilt, my love for you will always be alive and strong.

So don't make me wait for too long okay? I miss you so much.

- Hu

As Hu reads this childish letter, he remembers the pain, anguish, despair and sadness of the past. When the tree was wilting, he waited underneath it. Waited and waited till his eyesight blackened, till his chest became stiffer, till his tongue slowly lost it's function.

His organs were failing due to the tree wilting.

- 🥗 Anon (Look, this might not make sense but I KINDA LIKE IT BUT I CAN'T EXPRESS IT PROPERLY) Hu, my oc, is a tree demon but since he overcome the calamity, he obtained the ability to become human but with a twist. If he ever fell inlove with being that doesn't love him back (It all comes from his view, meaning if he think the other being doesn't love him his true body will wilt) he will wilt kinda like hananaki or something disease 👍 YEAH HE DIED LMAOOO

I am so confused about what I'm supposed to be doing with this lmao are these two pieces even connected *pats back* You're dumping angst on me when we're both stressing here, don't drag me down too, I'm so braindead

#exile.goblet #🥗 anon

[writerlys]

WHEN will my normal-sized amygdala return from the war

#I am so tired of feeling So Much all the time #and always so much PAIN and SADNESS and SHAME and ANGUISH????? #I am so tired of having to actively regulate my emotions when normal people seem to be able to do it without stopping everything #dbt is so helpful but it's SO exhausting because it's so much WORK #it's like I'm in a constant battle with myself to act Normal and I have my skills to help me but it's a struggle every day and I'm just... #TIRED... like so .... Tired #I wish my brain would stop hurting me. I wish I could stop veering toward self destruction the second I feel like things are falling apart #I'm so tired of this intense fear of abandonment that rules my entire psyche #I'm so so so tired of not feeling good enough and not being able to believe people when they tell me I am #I hate that I am so frustrating #i COULD try to stop this massive spiral of sadness that's been hitting me for the past week #or i COULD just listen to the same five songs on repeat and pretend like I'm handling it #*taylor swift voice* can you stop #me prodding my amygdala with a stick: grow please!!!! #when dodie said 'I hate myself' she made several points #brain please don't #ramblyssa strikes again

[1kook]

commercial break: eleven

this is a netflix & chill drabble <3

SUMMARY You’re too bright, too… there. His shell is too small.

WARNINGS sadness, vulnerabilities, insecurity, self confidence issues, an idea of “feeling ugly”, tw // mental breakdowns and feelings of regression, crying, jk doesn’t want anyone near, oc tries her best to comfort him

RATING e for everyone

WC 1.2k

NOTES i love the idea of jk being the perfect man, but I also want to show moments where he isn’t so perfect and where he’s not the mature man oc thinks he is… I love my boy so much 😭😭 also it’s 1am helloooooo ALSO it’s formatted ugly bc I’m posting this from my phone 😀 I’ll fix it tmrw promise

Jungkook hates to admit it, but some days are harder than others.

Some days, Jungkook wakes up with an uncomfortably stifling feeling in his chest, one that threatens to wiggle its way into the loneliest parts of his heart and find permanent residency. A drowsy one, makes him linger in bed well past his preferred wake up time, the blackout curtains in his room ensheathing him in a sea of darkness that his heart is adamant on replicating. But it’s worse than drowning, because his lungs are clear; it’s just that he doesn’t have the strength, the willpower to force another breath— he just wants to lay there and do nothing.

“Good morning,” he hears from beside him, and a different weight presses against his side. You’re warm in the morning, soft too. He likes how you feel, he always does. But not today. Today, he doesn’t know how he feels about the overwhelming presence at his side. You’re too bright, too… there. His shell is too small. “You sleep okay?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. The words don’t catch in his throat, but in the recesses of his mind instead, overlapping and overflowing until it feels like tv static, fuzzy and blurry— confusing. You shift beside him, and his heart kicks up an anxious rhythm. It’s not the normal butterflies that beat their wings against the walls of his rib cage when you smile, nor is it the thundering gallops of a dozen horses when you touch him just so. It’s this nauseating, terrified feeling, one that screams at him to answer lest he upset you with his silence.

There’s a hand on his chest, and he doesn’t like how it feels right now, just another suffocating layer to add on, but even worse he doesn’t know how to tell you that.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to. It slinks away, but that warning bell in his head is going off anyway, makes him look over at you in panic, only to find you propped up on your elbow, inquisitive eyes focused on him. Your features are still soft, and Jungkook is pretty sure there’s traces of last night’s makeup clinging to your lash line. You’re so pretty— you always are. Jungkook can’t handle this right now. You’re too pretty, and Jungkook feels ugly. (Ah, so that was the feeling.) You can’t look at Jungkook when he’s ugly, you won’t want Jungkook when he’s ugly.

“Hey,” you say softly, gently. Jungkook’s heart aches. A pair of fingers brush along his cheekbones, drag through the wetness that escapes the corners of his eyes, trails down toward his ears—when had he started crying?—where you delicately tuck his hair back. “I’m gonna get started on breakfast,” you tell him, voice hushed, whispering. Jungkook is hanging onto every single word, feels like you’ll disintegrate before his very eyes if he isn’t careful. You can probably tell. “You don’t have to eat right now, but it’ll be down there if you want, okay?”

You move to get off the bed, scooting away from him, leaving him behind. He’s fine with it until he isn't, until your hand touches the door knob to his room and a shameful sniffle escapes him. Loud too, loud enough to make you turn back in surprise. And that alarmed look on your face is enough to make Jungkook want to hide, hurriedly rolling over onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow, arms clutching at the softness as he cries. You hurry back. He doesn’t want you to leave, but he doesn’t want you to see either. He doesn’t know what he wants.

“No,” he begs, turning the other way when your face comes up beside him, kneeling beside his side of the bed. “Don’t look at me— please.”

There’s a hand on his back, and Jungkook hates how much he loves it, hates how much he instinctively yearns to find comfort in you at a time like this. He was getting better, he’s been getting better. He swears he has; he has journals full of feelings to prove it, vulnerable text message threads with Namjoon to prove it.

But he won’t lie. The Valentine’s Day incident had left a bad taste in Jungkook’s mind, and these past few months have been hard. He feels like he’s regressing, like he’s back to being a teenager all over again. By itself, that knowledge sucks. Combined with the warm palm on his back and the loving voice calling his name— combined with the fact you've been watching Jungkook these past few months each and every time he’s woken up like this… it’s humiliating. “Don’t look,” he chokes out, each drag of your fingers through his hair sending a confused pang of emotions straight to his heart.

“Why can’t I look?” you ask quietly, toying with the strands of his hair. He sniffles. “What would I see?”

“Me,” Jungkook sobs, wishing the mattress would just up and swallow him.

You’re silent, a fact that Jungkook wishes he could appreciate had it not made the sounds of his anguish even more obvious. It makes him self-conscious, more than he already is, so he forces himself to quiet down. It doesn’t feel better, but it does let him hear your next words. “I like looking at you,” you tell him, and the bed dips down beside him. After a moment, you speak again. “Do you feel ugly today?”

Careful, calculated. Like he’s a ticking bomb and you don’t want him to blow. Briefly, he had explained it before, skirted around it in embarrassment as he talked about the way he felt. It had been months ago— maybe the weekend after Valentine’s —so he’s surprised you remember. Jungkook nods.

“Then I’ll wait,” you announce, and eventually he feels you settle in beside him. His head is still turned the other way, hiding shamefully, but he can feel your warm breath against his skin when you slowly cuddle in close. An arm wraps itself around his back. He doesn’t mind it this time— he just wants to be held now. “I’ll wait until you feel pretty again.”

Part of Jungkook wants to snap at you; he doesn’t want to feel pretty, he’s never felt pretty. Jungkook felt average at best, and on days where you stroked his ego, maybe even handsome. But pretty? That’s not something that’ll ever happen, and he doesn’t want you to waste your hopes on a possibility that does not exist.

But that’s mean, and he doesn’t want to chase you away, scare you away, even if he doesn’t want you to see him like this. So Jungkook shuts his mouth, stays still, tries to match the soft rise and fall of your chest against his side instead.

Some days he’s fine in a few minutes without a single tear shed. Other days are long. Other days are so painful and uncomfortable, he just wants to hide. He wants to climb into his shell and never come out, hide his ugliness from the world and never have to worry about being seen again.

You don’t lie to him, don’t feed him empty promises while you wait. You just lay silently at his side, pulling him closer when his sniffles get louder. You don’t say anything unnecessary and you never make it about yourself.

Lately his shell has grown bigger, wider, comfier. Big enough for someone else to squeeze in, hold him close when he doesn’t feel like himself.

He doesn’t hate it.

#networkbangtan #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jjk #bts #bts x reader #bts x you #mine

[hurting-fictional-people]

Continued from here

-

At first, Hero doesn’t notice the slight changes around them.

They wake up, and the pain wakes as well, flooding them with its burn and stealing away their breath for the few instants they take to accept and relax into it before opening their eyes. Villain’s curled-up figure, snoring softly from the armchair next to the bed, is the first thing they see.

Hero lays their head back down and sighs when last night comes back to them. They wish they couldn’t, but they remember it all too well – every kind word, every worried touch and whispered confession.

Embarrassment burns their cheeks at the thought of Villain seeing their scars, the horror written across their face when they did. They were never supposed to see those – no one was, not when all of them were results of Hero’s fails, of Superhero’s discipline. They were a shame Hero carried for not being good enough, and one Villain should never have seen.

They give Villain a side-glance, sighing again at how uncomfortable their position looks, their body too big for the tight space of the armchair.

It’s only then that something clicks into place.

Hero doesn’t own an armchair.

They jerk upright, and immediately fold forward, holding their stomach when pain shoots through them. Hero catches the anguished whimper before it escapes, and only a huff of air leaves in its place. It’s still enough for Villain to open their eyes and sit up too.

“You’re awake,” they state with a yawn, giving Hero a once-over that stops at the clean bandages and makes their stomach churn.

“Where am I?”

Villain’s smirk sends waves of fire through Hero’s blood. How the fuck were they so stupid to trust Villain when they were at their most vulnerable?

“Welcome to my place. Do you like it?”

Hero bares their teeth in indignation and grips the sheets with the hand that isn’t holding their injury. “Take me the fuck back.”

“Oh, no can do, sweetheart. I gave you the nice guest room, though, I think you’ll like it,” Villain says, already standing up and calmly walking around the bed. Hero doesn’t move from their spot under the duvet, not when they can barely move without grunting, let alone get up and follow the bastard. “What do you say about breakfast? I’ll be right back with it.”

Hero can only watch as they leave the room, and the lock clicks behind them.

They fall back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling hopelessly.

Villain locked the door. Hero’s hands tremble at the thought, at how the room suddenly seems so much smaller. They had said they’d be back with breakfast, hadn’t they? But how can Hero trust Villain after they kidnapped them?

The feeling isn’t unknown, though. Hero is way too familiar with the helplessness of being locked away from the world, isolated until they were desperate enough to comply. So forlorn they were the perfect vessel for learning, as Superhero would say. It hadn’t happened in a long time, not since they started obeying the orders without question, but the terror of being alone for hours that turned into days that turned into weeks never truly left them.

You are too unruly, Hero, Superhero always said, scowling at them after they refused an order or made a mistake, if I don’t discipline you, you’ll be just like any villain. It’s for your own good, and one day you’ll see it.

And then the door would be locked, and they’d be alone. Alone until they forgot what it was like to talk and be answered, alone until they gave up on any form of pride and just screamed at the walls that they were sorry, please, I’ll do anything, alone until–

“…hope you like toast, we didn’t have pancakes, but I do know how to make really go– hey, Hero?”

They look up to see Villain walking inside, carrying a tray filled with food. Hero doesn’t cry – you don’t show weakness, Hero, ever, or will I have to teach you how to control yourself too? –, but a sob gets caught in their throat.

They aren’t alone. They are not alone. Hero shakes their head to push away the memories and glares at Villain, carefully pulling themself into a sitting position.

“Why am I here, Villain? Am I your hostage? Your prisoner?”

A shiver runs up their spine at the thought, at the punishment they’d earn for being caught by Villain of all people – being caught without putting up a fight, of all things.

“You are hurt,” they say as if that’s enough of an answer, and sit down in the armchair again, placing the tray in the bed between the two of them and pointing at the piles of food there.

Hero crosses their arms and waits.

“Just eat, Hero, we’ll talk about it after breakfast, okay?”

“How did you even bring me here?” Something vicious is curling around Hero’s heart, something unwelcome, something painful, something they aren’t ready to admit feels like betrayal. Villain doesn’t owe them anything, Hero has no right to feel it, and yet, there it is. “Did you drug me while I bled out?”

Villain averts their gaze and sets their jaw. “They hurt you,” they seethe, the rage only barely contained in their voice.

“I didn’t even tell you why or how I got hurt, you can’t–“

“I’m not stupid. You said enough for me to guess it.” Villain looks up with such unrestrained hatred, that even though they know it isn’t directed at them, Hero can’t contain a flinch.

They straighten up as best as they can to hide it, though, keeping all of the pain carefully hidden away from their features. “Superhero helped me become the hero I am today. Each of these scars is a mark of shame, of my failure. So if you want to blame someone for them, blame me.”

But instead of appeasing Villain, the words seem to have the opposite effect. They clench their fists, nostrils flaring, pupils swallowing their irises whole. “Keep talking and I won’t be able to contain myself next time I see that sad excuse for a person.”

Hero pales, trembles. And Villain, of course, notices.

“Superhero has abused and gaslighted you, and you still blanch at the idea they might be hurt,” Villain sighs, looking up to the ceiling as if searching for an explanation there. “Scars aren’t shames, Hero. Scars are traumas, and there’s absolutely no context in which they’d be a form of discipline. That’s blatant abuse.”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” Hero says rigidly, staring down at their hands. Somewhere deep inside them, hidden so far away they barely remember it’s even there, there’s a young Hero nodding and crying along with Villain’s every word. But Superhero’s words sound louder than any old, forgotten, version of Hero ever could. We don’t speak ill of our people, Hero. And if you do, you’ll have to face the consequences, they’d say between each crack of the whip.

“Just eat,” Villain sighs, hiding their face behind their hands and rubbing their eyes.

There’s so much worry mingled with ancient fear inside of Hero, they don’t even question how fast they answer to the command. They are hurting and confused and betrayed, and their mind can’t help but fit in its usual mode of complying with each and every order. Just like all good heroes do, Hero, you must obey your superiors, and therefore help the people. Show me you can obey and I won’t need to hurt you anymore.

They eat breakfast in silence, and although Hero’s mind keeps bouncing around the argument and their future, something that went unanswered keeps bothering them until they can’t help but spill it out.

“Did you drug me to bring me here?”

Villain looks them dead in the eye, lets them see the guilt lurking there – but also the truth. “Yes. You are hurt and I wouldn’t leave you like this to be even more battered by your beloved Superhero.”

“You had no right,” Hero whispers. Tears well up in their eyes, and the air gets caught in their throat, turning into gasping breaths that are not enough. Suddenly, they can’t breathe. They can’t think. Villain drugged them after Hero trusted them and let them see it all, they drugged them and took them away and they had no way to stop and they still have no way to stop it–

“Hero!” Villain shouts, holding their shoulders and giving them a little shake. It hurts their wound and makes them gasp, but it isn’t enough for Hero to stop quivering.

“You drugged me–“ is all they can rasp out, fighting to regain control of their swirling emotions.

“I gave you a mild sedative and brought you here, that’s all I did,” Villain says hurriedly, “you didn’t wake up because you were really tired, not because I knocked you out. I’d never take your will away like that.”

“But you did!”

Their stomach hurts and their chest echoes and Hero feels like they’re falling and falling and the fall never ends.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be this upset about it,” Villain exclaims, holding their hands.

Hero snaps before even they realize what they’re doing – one moment Villain is holding their hand, the next said hand is flying through the air and connecting with Villain’s jaw with a dull thud and a sharp pain in their abdomen. Two gasps of pain sound at the same time, and both Villain and Hero curl forward, holding their respective injuries.

“You punched me?” Villain says, unbelieving. For one moment, one fleeting instant, Hero freezes and waits for the blow to be returned, only twice as bad, or maybe for them to be left alone as punishment. And then the moment passes, and Villain’s stunned eyes come back to focus. Hero pants and glares at them, but even though they’re still mad and scared, there is also guilt overlaying it all now.

“You drugged me!”

“I also kidnapped you. And it was a mild sedative, you could’ve woken up– why are you so hung up on the drugging?”

As if in answer, Hero’s heart starts to pound. It screams from their chest, thrums inside their ears. Their tongue doesn’t voice any of the truths laying there, though. Not when they can still feel the bitter taste of betrayal – what would Villain do with the knowledge of how many times they were drugged as a punishment? As a ‘calming technique’, according to Superhero? As a ‘teaching mechanism’?

“Does it matter?” they bite out, shifting their weight and holding in a moan when the wound shifts as well. “I never should have trusted you.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But that doesn’t mean anything, not really. Superhero’s said it before, and they ended up hurt either way.

“You can’t keep me here against my will. Unless you plan on tying me down and locking me up, I’m going to leave whether you want it or not.”

Villain takes a sharp breath and grits their teeth. Although goosebumps spread across Hero’s skin, they don’t back down.

“Why would you go back to them?” Villain sags on the chair, and even though their face is somber, there is something in their eyes that looks so much like pleading that Hero holds their breath. “I can protect you. You can even ‘save the city’ or whatever, I won’t stop you. But why go back to the person who hurt you? I see the fear you’re hiding, Hero. You and I both know that the only thing waiting for your return is more pain.”

“What do you want me to do? Stay here? Become a villain myself?” they scoff.

Something flashes in Villain’s eyes, something so weirdly close to pain Hero find themself at a loss for words. And then it’s gone, as fast as it appeared, and Hero chooses to believe it was only their imagination.

“Do as you wish, but I won’t be responsible for your being hurt again,” Villain says in a final tone. “And if I have to tie you down and lock you up until you’re healed and able to defend yourself, then so be it.”

“So the ‘playing hero’ part is over, huh?”

There’s so much hurt, so many places. In their belly, in their contained tears, in their heart. Hero grips the sheets and glares at Villain’s narrowed eyes.

“I never said I was playing hero,” they respond coldly, “I’d rather be damned than be anything like Superhero.”

Villain gets up after that, but stops at the door and turns around to look at Hero. They stare at each other, and in their gazes, something builds and something breaks, and as words form and die in the tip of Hero’s tongue, they seem to do the same in Villain’s, for they simply sigh and turn their back, leaving the room without another glance and locking the door behind them.

(part 3)

#whump #whump writing #superhero whump #villain caretaker #hero whumpee #superhero villain #hero whump #villain x hero #villains and heroes #traumatized whumpee #wounded #solitary confinement mention #noncon drugging #panicking #implied past torture #kidnapped whump #manipulated whumpee #manipulative whumper #conditioned whumpee

[summerofsnowflakes]

Wicked Games II

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (Avenger)

Word Count: 3.9K

Summary: You need to give him up, but it’s just too good.

Previous Part 

Warnings: 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Implied Smut! It gets a little hot and heavy but no actual smut in this chapter. Cheating, Heartbreak, Angst and a full scale breakdown.  

A/n: I know this second part took some time but I’m hoping it was worth the wait... lol I’m sorry in advance 

The summertime air rested over Brooklyn like a warm, thick blanket, but it wasn’t the humidity that was suffocating Bucky’s lungs today. Shame and guilt devoured him the entire journey home, it weighed him down as he trudged sluggishly up the stairs of his apartment building.  He was certain she would smell his lies and deceit; that she would take one look at him and know what happened on that mission, on every mission with you. 

He'd been lying to himself for months, deluding himself into believing it was just sex. Maybe it had started out that way. But your familiarity was addictive. He knew your body, had committed every inch of you to his mind all those years ago. You knew his in the same way, even though he’d evolved over the years, gaining visible scars that rested over his emotional ones. You knew what made him tick.

When he looked at you, he could see your experiences, the lifetimes of pain and torture. It couldn’t be hidden and with you he didn’t want to conceal it. You understood it like no one else could. He’d never successfully replicated the feeling he got with you, with anyone else. He could feel more with you in one evening with you than he had throughout his entire relationship with his girlfriend. 

Last night all your emotions were heightened, and it went further than he’d expected, further than you usually allowed yourselves to venture. Your sad whimpers, your broken cries still vibrated against his chest. The echoes of your pleas for his love rang in his ears. It broke every barrier he’d ever set to protect himself and you. 

He couldn’t get you off his mind, anxious to know who you were with and how you felt. Were you suffering as much as he was right now?

There were too many possibilities and too many possible answers. He would drive himself crazy before the night ended.

He stood outside his front door, a stranger in his own apartment building; lost in the dull, drab hallway, whilst the memories of last night attacked him. He’d long forgotten about opening the door. He was a statue, frozen by anguish as his brain chased the thoughts that circled his mind, round, and round until he felt dizzy.

Bucky was lurched back to reality as the door swung open clumsily in front of him. He jumped back down the hallway, clutching the handrail to stop himself from falling over. He let out a shaky breath, his eye wild with fear, his cheeks flushed with guilt.

Music blared from inside the apartment, the sounds of shitty pop floated to him as he shuffled back sheepishly to face her. Bucky never used to care about her taste in much, it used to be cute. It was so different to what he liked, but today it acted as a shrill reminder of how incompatible they were. 

Bucky shuffled back to the doorframe awkwardly, dread filled his body as she came into view. He looked at her face watching as her eyes travelled up his body and waiting for her to slam the door shut in his face.

But he wasn’t that lucky, her face lit up with pure joy. The full trash bag she’d been holding dropped to the floor with a heavy clang and she jumped into the arms of the man she loved.  Bucky tried to emulate her happiness, her excitement, her love but it was all so fake. He was a deceitful imposter in his relationship.  

He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her into him, the scent of her lavender shower gel invaded his nostrils. His stomach dropped; bile rose up in his chest, guilt wracked against his rib cage. He hated lavender, he wanted his senses to be flooded with the smell cherries and vanilla. That’s how you always smelt, he craved you.

“How long were you standing there?” She teased playfully, nestling her head into his chest.

“Not long.” He mumbled, wishing he could pull away from her as she worked to close the distance between their bodies. She ran her hands up and down his back, itching to keep her hands on him. He’d only been gone two days; he couldn’t understand why she’d missed him so much; or maybe he could, he left you two hours ago and felt like a junkie going through a detox from the way his hands shook desperately for your touch.  

She pulled back and smiled up at him gently. Her smile used to have an effect on the beat of his heart, but not anymore. Now it only served as a reminder that his heart belonged to someone else, it always had. 

He smiled back; but he was certain all he could muster up was an uncomfortable grimace. “I just need to take this down to the trash shoot, go in and make yourself comfy. I want to hear all about your mission.” She placed a kiss to his cheek before skipping off down the stairs.

Panic seeped in and took hold of his body. She knew; or at least she would know soon enough. There was no way of hiding it, not with your teeth marks imprinted on his neck.  

He clenched his fists, stepping into his apartment. The air was fresh with cleaning products, it was smothering, he couldn’t catch his breath. He stood in the threshold of his own home, rocking back and forth on his heels. He looked around like it was the first time he’d ever seen it.

He couldn’t do this, not without seeing you first.

He backed out of the room, into the hallway. The front door was left wide open as he crept back into the hallway, he prayed that she wasn’t there. He couldn’t look at her again, the ugly truth would spill from his pores. 

He peeked over the banister, down the many flights of stairs, waiting to catch a glimpse of her skipping back to him happily. When he was certain the coast was clear he bolted. He moved at lightning speed, determined to make a clean getaway. 

He could envision the hurt on her face when she realised, he was gone. His heart clenched at the image, knowing she’d blame herself for him leaving. He’d done this to her before, leaving without an explanation was an art he’d perfected. 

It wasn’t until he made his way down into the subway, far underground, that he felt as though he could breathe again. Hidden from her hopeful eyes in their apartment window, he was safe. Despite the air being warmer down below, he felt as though he could breathe again.

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

Asgardian Ale. An invention of utter beauty.

Bucky to himself grinned merrily, his mind foggy from the golden liquor. He couldn’t get drunk off regular alcohol, only drank it for the taste. Thor’s home brewed alcohol was a different ball game. 

The Asgardian had stashed bottles of it all around the tower over the years. Bucky had stumbled across some of the hidden gems when he first moved into the tower and had been helping himself to a sip or three from time to time. 

He was drowning in a tsunami of his own creation, caught between thoughts of her and you. Sitting by himself, woefully alone with alcohol to comfort him seemed like the best way to clear his mind. Four rather large sips into a bottle of the potent alcohol and he’d drank himself silly.

He hazily surveyed his old empty room, the moonlight streamed in from the city. There was nothing left in this room, not even a bed, but a thin layer of dust on the hardwood floors. He hadn’t lived at the tower for a long period of time and given their history; Tony had kept Bucky as far away from him as possible. He’d been given a room on a completely empty floor. It still felt more homely than his apartment, but maybe it was just because he knew you were two floors below him.

He sighed to himself loudly, falling back against the bedroom wall with a loud thud. He wasn’t well versed in the art of drinking, his body was in a state of total confusion, heavily floating on the solid floor. His head felt lighter, not weighed down by the constant of dread of being caught between two women. For the first time in days, he was certain of himself and the situation. Through the clouds of his intoxicated mind, thoughts of you pierced through.  

He heaved himself off the floor, the half empty bottle of alcohol completely forgotten, as he stood up, he lost his balanced and stumbled forwards. He caught himself before he toppled over completely, chuckling to himself as he regained his footing.  

He staggered merrily down the stairs and past the living room. Beelining for your bedroom, he barely registered the film being played or some of the team cosied up on the sofas together.

He was a man on a mission. 

Bucky may not have noticed them, but Steve noticed him, letting his gaze drift from the television screen to his best friend. His eyes flickered down to his watch; it was past eleven; way too late to be wandering the halls of a building he didn’t live in. 

He eyed Bucky suspiciously, noticing the way he wandered his way down the hall. Bucky came to an abrupt stop outside your room and Steve straightened in his chair, craning his neck to keep the other man in his eyeline. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bucky, watching as he rocked back and forth, bouncing his weight from one leg to the other nervously. He stood outside the door for several moments, raising, and dropping his fist to the door until he finally knocked and disappeared seconds later. 

Curiosity nipped at Steve’s fingers as he tried to piece together a plausible reason for Bucky to be at your door.

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

Bubbles of nervousness exploded in Bucky’s stomach as he stood outside your door. He was relieved to see the light peeking through the bottom of the door, but something stopped him from knocking immediately. He raised his hand and dropped it instantly; once, twice and on the third attempt his balance gave out. He fell forwards, his fist unintentionally wrapped against the door. 

His cheeks-tinged pink with mortification. It shouldn’t feel possible to be self-conscious about his knocking ability, and yet he wished he’d done a better job. He held his breath as he waited, time stilled to a complete stop.

You cracked the door open, peaking your head out tentatively and sighed as you set your sights on him. A sigh of relief or heartbreak; you weren’t sure yet. 

Your eyes were red, recent tears wiped from your puffy cheeks. Your lips turned up into a timid smile. You looked away as your eyes met, your gaze falling to the floor. You moved aside, letting go of the door and granted him access to you once again. 

You cursed yourself for smiling at him, for allowing him to make you forget the pain for just a second. You wanted to be stronger, to close the door on him entirely, but your heart had already been reeled back in before your head could begin to lay down a counter point. 

Bucky saw it, the hurt in your eyes, the evidence of your tears, the pain etched onto you face. Your eyes always gave away your secrets to him. You may have a shiny steel exterior, your poker face unmatched by anyone else on the team and yet he could read you like a book. He saw through the façade you tried to put up and he knew it was his fault. It was a sobering punch to the gut. He trailed into the room quietly, his intoxicated brain filled with solemn thoughts. 

You closed the door, your hands resting on the doorknob, holding onto it to keep yourself from falling over. You took a deep breath and prepared to face him, but you were ambushed by his large body latching onto yours. His strong arms engulfed your smaller body, his head fell into the crook of your neck as he pressed your bodies together. The heat radiating from his chest was a welcomed comfort. 

He made light work of spinning you and scooping you up off the ground. Pulling your bodies closer together, impossibly close. He breathed in your delicious scent and smiled into your skin as you wrapped your legs round his torso. You felt the rapid beat of his heart as it hammered loudly against his rib cage. It matched the pace of your own heart. 

You stood in the centre of your room holding one another, breathing each other in. You rested your chin over his shoulder, taking slow and steady breaths as his luscious dark brown hair shrouded your sight. 

Bucky buried his head back into your neck, his lips grazed your soft skin. He had to hold back he fought the urge to sink his teeth into your skin. His right hand trailed up your back softly until he reached the base of your neck. He wrapped his fingertips around the back of your neck, gripping your body possessively. 

Bucky didn’t have a clue how to articulate himself verbally, he rarely did, but he hoped to show you. To bring you comfort through his actions.

The longer you stood there, tangled up together, the blurrier your bodies became. It was unclear where his body started and yours ended. Your mind willed you to pull back, but you’d never felt safer, and you knew Bucky had no intention of letting you move. 

Bucky swayed unintentionally from side to side. He thought he’d hidden his drunk stupor well, but he’d moved too clumsily, and the stench of 1000 year old alcohol wasn’t easy to miss.

You turned your head to the side, nuzzling your face into him until your lips hovered over the shell of his ear. “Bucky… Why are you here?” You whispered softly. You were sure if it was a question or a plea, but you needed to know.

A shiver ran up Bucky’s spine as your words reverberated through him, but he remained silent. He shuffled back until his legs hit the edge of your bed and dropped you both down. But there was more distance between him and the bed than he first realised, and he wasn’t sober enough to land steadily. 

Your bodies began to collide as he crashed into the soft bouncy mattress, the soft cotton sheets felt cold against his warm body. The speed of the crash sent your body flying forwards, but even inebriated his reflexes were quicker than most. His large hands gripped your hips, steadying you so you didn’t smash head-first into him. His eyes flew open, worry lines etched into his forehead as he inspected you for any signs of hurt.  

You stared down at him, and he looked up at you, neither of you daring to breathe. This felt far too intimate. Under the usual circumstances this would’ve been normal, the adrenaline of a successful mission pumping through your veins or under the influence of alcohol, but tonight you were stone cold sober. You’d spent the last three hours crying over the man that now traced soft soothing circles into your skin. 

Unable to hold it back any longer, Bucky’s face broke out in a wide grin. A soft childish chuckle escaped his lips, it was an angelic sound that made your heart flutter. His eyes flickered shut, relaxed smile still resting on his lips. He didn’t like domesticity with her, it always felt forced, but with you it felt right.

For a second you were certain he’d fallen asleep by the way his chest rose and fell at such a steady, calm pace. But his hands slipped from your waist, and he laced your fingers together, engaging in an unspoken, unplanned handshake. 

“What’s going on Buck?” You asked again as you lifted yourself out of his lap. You wanted nothing more than to keep doing this with him. But he wasn’t yours.  His eyes shot open; his peaceful smile faded, and he tugged softly at your hand still intertwined with his, signalling you to move back. “Where are you going my sweet girl?” 

You felt your heart stop. You tried to find your words, to think of something to say but he had you caught you off guard, at a total loss for words. You were nervous, it was clear for him to see. This was a side even Bucky hadn’t seen before, and he couldn’t help but smile at you.

You allowed him to pull you back into his lap, placing your legs either side of him. His heart swelled as you looked everywhere but his eyes, fighting against your own smile. He hooked his hand under your chin forcing your gaze upwards. You melted under his piercing blue stare, you felt him studying each curve and crevice of your face. His cold metallic hand cradled your face, his thumb caressed your cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He uttered gently, his flesh hand ran up your bare thigh, inching towards your heated core. “And so sexy.” 

“Stop.” You laughed. You placed your hands flat against his chest and pushed away, but his hold was stronger than yours and he wasn’t letting you move. He had you right where he wanted you and there was nowhere else, you’d rather be.

“Not a chance.” He chuckled; his voice dipped seductively into a lower octave. He moved in closer, your eyes fluttered shut as his lips hovered over yours. You nudged your face forward pressing your lips to his lightly.

“Do you know why I can’t stop?” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours once again. You shook your head fervently as you chased his lips. “Because I’m in love with you.”

You froze in your place, his words washing over you. You pulled back to look at him, to make sure this wasn’t a part of some wicked game. A million emotions coursed through your body.   

Bucky watched your face contort and change as you made sense of his admission. He tried to hide his disappointment that you didn’t respond instantly, he knew that wasn’t fair to expect of you. He’s just dropped a massive truth bomb. 

Bucky saw the transition from shock to happiness, the way your eyes relaxed, the turn up of your lips. He couldn’t hold back any longer and crashed his lips against yours. His mouth moved needily against yours, his tongue traced along your lips begging for entrance. You gave into him, moving against his mouth hungrily.

A Bucky shaped fog enveloped your mind, reeled you back in and placing you under his spell. You laced your fingers into his long dark hair and tugged at his roots, Bucky released a throaty moan into your mouth. You were utterly lost in him.

Bucky’s mouth trailed down your skin. He pressed soft, wet kisses everywhere that was accessible to him, your lips, your cheeks, your neck. He just needed to feel you against him, to prove it was real. You rocked your hips against his, brushing your panties up against his hardening arousal. Your lips parted as you dragged your hips back and forth, releasing small sighs of pleasure. 

Bucky pulled back and admired your beauty; your eyes clenched shut, mouth agape, your chest heaving as you got lost in the throes of your own desire. He leant back in and pulled your bottom lip down in between his teeth and tugged harshly, eliciting a needy whine from your mouth. 

Your hands slipped between your bodies; you dragged your fingertips down his t-shirt, feeling him shiver under your touch as you danced along his toned stomach. You fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, but Bucky placed his hand over yours, stopping you. Bucky pressed a reassuring kiss to your lips. 

“Not yet baby, I just want to enjoy this for just a little bit longer.” He muttered, lifting your hand to his mouth, he placed soft kisses to each of your fingers. 

You felt as though you were caught somewhere between reality and fantasy. Bucky was giving you everything you craved from him, it was perfect. Here he was showering you with love, affection, intimacy, so why did it feel like you were saying goodbye? 

You went rigid with fear, there was an undeniable sinking feeling in your stomach as the questions swirled round and round. Bucky felt the shift in the air around you, he felt your body stiffen again. He looked at you, but your eyes were closed. You opened your mouth to speak and shut it several times. It looked like you were muttering things to yourself, but you were just building up the courage to talk to him. 

“Bucky, why are you here?” The words tumbled out of your mouth at lightning speed. Your eyes were still clamped shut; you knew if you looked at him you stood no chance of staying strong. His hand caressed your cheek softly, “I thought it was obvious, I’m here because I want to be with you.” 

“Please.” You brokenly begged. You weren’t sure what you were begging for. You dropped your head onto his chest, you screwed your eyes shut tighter than before, so much so that it hurt. You had to do something to stop the tears from falling. 

“We don’t do this in New York, that was your rule.” You mumbled into the cotton of his t-shirt. You moved out of his grip and this time he let you go. You needed space to think, your mind always got cloudy when his hands were on you. 

“Screw the rules. We’re past that now.” 

You barely heard him over the beating of your heart that deafened your ears. You looked frantically around the room for something of comfort, but fresh hot tears blurred your eyes. You clamped your hand over your mouth, but Bucky still heard your muffled sob breaking from your lips.

You weren’t able to hold back the floodgates any longer, wave after wave of pain crashed into your body. It took hold of your body and dragged you under. You fell to the floor like a broken toy falling from a child’s hand. 

Bucky watched helplessly as you fell to pieces, your cries grew louder, and your body shook. This is what he had done to you. It was the highest form of torture watching you breakdown, knowing it was because of him. It was freshly plucked straight out of his nightmares. 

He dropped down to the floor in front of you. He was on his knees praying for forgiveness and begging for you to come back to him. He reached his hand out tentatively, taking yours in his. The cold metal against your clammy skin pulled you back to the surface. 

You sniffled softly, tears still rolling down your cheeks and opened your eyes once again. You didn’t dare to look up at him, instead you watched your intertwined hands, admired the gold lines that shone proudly against the black vibranium.

When your breathing returned to an even pace he squeezed your hand gently, just to remind you he was here. “I’m in love with you and I can’t stand not being with you for another moment.” He muttered quietly.  

Vulnerability was difficult for Bucky, you knew that and yet he spoke with complete certainty, as though they were the easiest words that’d ever left his mouth. “It’s always been you.” 

He inched closer slowly, giving you every opportunity to reject his advances, but you allowed him to hold you. He brought his lips to your ear and muffled sweet praises to you; his hands roamed your body affectionately. Wherever he touched you, an I love you followed. 

You learnt into his touch allowing yourself one last moment of comfort before you tore it all down. 

“I love you too.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, you thought he hadn’t heard you. He had and his touches became firmer as he heard the words he’d so desperately been wishing for. It was a glimmer of hope. 

“You do?” He asked, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, the lump in your throat reformed. You knew you would regret what came next, you did before the words had even escaped your brain. “But I can’t do this… We can’t do this anymore. It has to end.” 

You wished so badly that you could take it back. You sat back and watched Bucky’s face contort in confusion, he shook his head frantically willing you to stop talking. 

It was your turn to watch the person you loved fall apart at your own hand. Bucky’s head fell forward, dropping between his shoulders in defeat, tears fell from his eyes onto the carpet. “But why?”  

“You know why Buck.”

“No, no no. That’s over, I don’t want to be with her anymore. I want you.” He pleaded desperately. He tugged your hand, trying to pull your body back into his arms, but this time you stopped him. “I love you.” He promised. 

You scoffed and pulled your hand away from him entirely, sitting back against the frame of your bed. Bucky watched you with needy eyes. 

“So, you ended things with her tonight before you came here?” You asked dryly, already knowing the answer. 

Bucky’s face fell, he grew white as a sheet. He opened his mouth to speak, an excuse dancing on the tip of his tongue, before shutting it again. You didn’t deserve excuses or lies, but he couldn’t get the truth out either.   

“That’s what I thought.” You laughed humourlessly. 

In the pit of his stomach, he knew he didn’t have a chance at winning you back now, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He searched the room frantically, looking for something to pull you back, but there was no trace of him in the room. In your life, why should there be, you weren’t his. 

He so desperately wanted to surge forward, to throw himself at you and have you catch him. He needed to latch his arms around your waist and bury his face into your body, to be overwhelmed by your intoxicating scent. He wanted to kiss you everywhere his mouth could reach, to worship your body and show you how much he truly loved you.

He knew he couldn’t, you wouldn’t allow it this time. He was a broken man; you were the only tinkerer able to fix him and you had condemned him to this fate. He stared into your lifeless eyes, they glistened from the fresh tears you were holding back. “Do you not believe me? That I’m lying when I tell you I love you?”

“Of course, I believe you.” You affirmed, breaking away from his hypnotic stare. “But until you leave her, it means nothing and it’s not fair to keep putting my heart through the ringer just because you’re a coward.” Your honest words stung cutting him deep beneath the surface; he dropped his head in defeat.

Fresh tears escaped your eyes, “you need to leave Bucky.” You muttered; you voice broke as his name left your lips and you felt both of your heart’s shatter.

Bucky remained silent, listening to your words as they swirled round and round in his brain. He would no doubt, be haunted for days, weeks, months to come by those words. He took a deep shaky breath, releasing a despaired sigh. He nodded to himself and stood up from the floor.

He had no intentions of making this anymore difficult tonight, but when he reached the door, he couldn’t stop himself from taking one last glance at you. Your forehead rested against your knees; your soft cries were muted but still present in the room. As he stared down at you, few of his own tears had fallen down his face freely.

You felt the shift in the air as your door clicked shut, he was gone, and he’d taken a part of you with him.  

Tags: @einfachniemand @theselilwonders @ryjo-92 @ramp-it-up @sillyteecup @lonelydance @riiyy @anh1020​ @tumblin-theworldaway​ @sergeantbuckybarnes @harrysthiccthighss @beminetokeep @leyannrae @lovely-geek​ @rivers-rambles21​

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #Steve Rogers #the winter soldier #Sebastian Stan #marvel #MCU fanfiction #mcu bucky barnes #angst #crying #heartbreak #cheating

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 9

It hurt to write this but it needed to be said. I love these dummies and I'm glad you all love them too. Love hearing from all of you - dms/asks are always open!

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst, language (let me know if I missed anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Playlist

------

Can your brain be at war with itself? When he considered his feelings he found that it could. Her declaration was a balm, the missing piece of the puzzle. A cavern within his soul that had been empty for far too long and desperately needed filling. The other side was pure rage. A hurt so deep and intertwined with the anger that it burned him.

It swam through him with an ardour that was palpable, sweating out of his pores and puffing out with every exhale.

Maybe that same cruel, hurt part of him wanted to make her wait, see if there was truth in her honeyed words.

I’ve waited for you half my life, Spills; let’s see how long you can wait for me.

The thought would always shame him in its cruelty. A spiteful little dig at her that he imagined would sooth the hurt he felt but it never did. Just made him feel worse. It was strange to him that the one thing he’d wanted for as long as he’d known her would be to hear those words. I love you too Francis, and the first time they’d almost knocked him over. Even seeing them written out in her message had taken the breath from his lungs for a second, but it wasn’t enough. There were so many things he needed to get off his chest.

One week turned into three, and after a month he’d had enough.

---

His nerves were shot as he made his way over to her place, his guts twisting up with anticipation and when she opened the door his heart was racing. He had so much to say, so much to get off his chest and when he saw her his first instinct was to kiss her. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and take her to bed, bury all his frustrations into her body but he couldn’t go down that road. It took every ounce of self control to deny her embrace.

“Please Spills, don’t - please don’t, if I hug you now I won’t stop there and I’ll lose my resolve. Please - we need to talk first.” He held his hands up to forestall her advances and the hurt look on her face almost broke him. There was too much to say.

——

Seeing him at your door, deep frown on his face and unwilling to even come close was like a punch to the gut. He was here, finally, after everything that had happened and his absence he was finally within reach. Or at least that’s what you thought at first, seeing him now it was clear that although he was here physically, he was somewhere far away emotionally.

The euphoria you’d felt at finally hearing from him, the text he’d sent asking if he could come over was now replaced with a nervous fear. Was he here to tell you he didn’t want you?

No, this is Francis, my Francis and things will work out. Please let things work out.

He made his way through awkwardly, a far cry from the confident Francis who brought you food for your hangover. It made you uncomfortable, made you nauseous - a swarm of flies buzzing in your stomach.

“Did you want something to drink?” It felt so foreign coming out of your mouth, you’d never had to ask him before. If he wanted something he’d usually just help himself.

“No thanks.” He sat on your couch and you came to sit beside him, careful to keep your distance and when you were both facing each other he sighed loudly. His eyes were focused on you but they were sadder than you’d ever seen.

“I was supposed to be married.” He came right out with it.

“I know.” It was all you could say. It was hard not to wring your hands, the anxiety was running rampant.

“Right now, I’m guessing Claudia and I would be arguing over where to live - on our way home from our honeymoon.” He sighed loudly. “She ended up going anyway.”

He was staring at you and you couldn’t really describe the expression. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t fear or distrust. “Spills, what am I supposed to think? I know that you’ve always known how I felt about you.” He was trying not to get too agitated, trying so hard to reign in his feelings and you couldn’t argue, all you could do was sit and let him get it off his chest.

“It’s so hard for me not to think that this is all a ploy you concocted to keep me for yourself. Never actually wanting me, but not letting anyone else have me. Please - tell me I’m wrong.”

You chewed over his words, as much as they hurt - you couldn’t blame him for thinking these things. Your timing had been abysmal.

“I know Francis. I know why you’d think that and if the roles had been reversed I’d probably be thinking the same thing but you have to know it’s not like that. You have to know how I feel about you, how I’ve always felt about you.” You wanted to reach over and touch him, maybe if you could just hold his hand, run your fingers through his hair - he’d be able to feel what you felt. Transfer it onto his skin somehow but you couldn’t yet. He was still too raw and it would make him angry. Would see it as another ploy to entrap him.

“How? How would I know that? How could I possibly see this as anything other than manipulation? Your timing is bullshit.” You saw it then, the look on his face was anguish.

“Do you have any idea how much I worked to convince myself that this would never happen?” He was gesturing to the two of you. “How hard it was to be so far away from you, and hear that you were just happy to be with someone else? How fucking hurtful it was for you to suggest that I be your last resort in case you were single at thirty? What am I supposed to think?”

His emotions were getting the best of him now and you saw his eyes shining. He was so angry, and you deserved this. “Claudia was there when you didn’t want me Spills. We may have fought, and disagreed on things but she wanted me from the get-go. It didn’t take her fifteen years to admit that she might feel the same way about me that I felt about her.”

“Francis I-”

“No. Let me finish- please. Let me say everything I need to say because it’s eating me up inside and I won’t be able to look at you if I keep it in another second. I need you to understand that although I love you - with everything that I am, I was ready to let you go for someone else. I had a life planned with that someone and that just a whisper of you possibly feeling even a fraction of what I’ve felt for you all this time, fucked me up. I threw it all away, I ruined my wedding. I did something I never thought I’d ever do - I betrayed her.” The tears were rolling down his face, he couldn’t stop them and your body burned to console him. Your hands itched to wipe them away and you had to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I am so angry, Spills.” His voice was cracking and he couldn’t look at you, he was hunched over, elbows braced on his knees as he held his face in his hands. “I’m so angry and I want to forgive you and just ignore all these feelings and love you, take you to bed and show you how much I’ve wanted you but I can’t right now.” Your eyes were burning, a painful lump burning in the back of your throat.

Am I too late? Please Francis, please look at me.

“Francis, please - I know you’re angry, and I know I hurt you, but you know in your heart that I love you. Please look at me, please - we can fix this.” You tentatively scooted closer and he looked up at you. Big brown eyes sparkling with tears over the hurt you’d caused.

For a moment you saw him much younger. You saw the sweet, beautiful boy you rejected staring back at you and you couldn’t help but touch him. Softly putting your hand on his shoulder, feeling it tremble beneath your palm and he slowly shifted towards you. That was all you needed. You pulled him to you, letting him crush you in his embrace.

“I’m sorry Francis, I love you and I’ll wait as long as you need me to wait. Please don’t push me away.” His face was pressed into the crook of your neck and you could feel his anger and his sadness as he held you close. You were rubbing his back and scratching at his scalp, trying to soothe him as best you could while whispering your feelings. Everything - anything that would convince him that you were on his level.

“Let’s start slow, and figure this out together. I shouldn’t have waited so long and I shouldn’t have denied my feelings for you. You’ve always been the one for me and I should never have made that stupid pact with you. I should have kissed you back. I’m sorry, I love you, believe me - please.” You were holding onto him tightly, pulling him to lay on you on your couch; he was wrapped up in the space you made for him.

“I want to, god I really want to Spills, you’re the love of my fucking life and I need you.” He was squeezing you tightly and you couldn’t help but pepper his face with kisses, little kisses between I love yous, your lips stained with the salt from his tears and you saw the deep breaths he took with every declaration.

“Keep telling me, please just keep telling me.” His eyes were closed, his words were whisper soft.

“I love you Francis, I love you.” You must have told him half a hundred times and you’d keep going until he believed you.

---

You both lay there for a long time, quietly soaking in each other's warmth, he’d kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable with you underneath him. His weight was reassuring and you pulled his shirt up slightly to rub the warm skin of his back.

All of the time wasted apart was devastating, you could almost see it then. The alternate timeline of your lives together. Maybe you’d have gotten married before he left. Maybe you’d have a couple of kids by now. A house. A dog.

“I don’t want to be, but I’m still hurt and upset." He sighed.

"I believe you, and I love you, but I think we should take things slow.” He pulled you out of your reverie, lifting up off you as he spoke. You missed his warmth instantly but he pulled you up with him and sat back on your sofa, tucking you into his side.

“I’m okay with that. Slow is good.” You kissed his cheek as he rubbed your back.

“I should go.” He was reluctantly getting up and for half a heart-beat you held onto him, he gave you a little smile. “If I stay, I’ll never leave. Slow, right?” He was putting his shoes back on and walking towards your door and everything in you wanted to beg him to stay but you knew he was right. If you’d jumped into something right now without giving him a chance to heal and come to terms with his choices he would hate you.

“Francis?” He turned towards you. “Will you take me out on a date?” You wiggled your eyebrows in the way you knew had always made him laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“I’d like that.” He kissed your cheek, just barely grazing the side of your mouth and he was gone. Leaving you with your heart, and skin burning for him.

We can go as slow as you like.

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

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#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales #oblivius #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales/you

[authorkun]

[𝙎𝙪𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙖𝙘] (005)

"𝙉𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚."

Fushiguro stated. While still cool on the outside, internally Megumi was pleading with himself that it wasn't true. Gojo sighed. "It's starting to look like a possibility." "Why are the Elders here though?" The raven head questioned. "The council are making preparations." Masamichi stepped in. "They're already assuming the worst?!" Megumi snapped. "He's still alive! He's still-!" A hand made a stop motion.

"I think you should leave the matter with us. You and Kugisaki need rest. We'll have Shoko look at your wounds later, for now rest." Masamichi held a commanding tone, although gently said. Fushiguro hesitantly nodded before picking up his peer, and started his way towards the dorms. 'M/n is not dead right? He'll make it-.' 

Once more his train of thought was interrupted by the faint yell from the infirmary. "He's crashing! The internal hemorrhaging won't..." The rest became muffled, when the sound of a door slamming shut echoed the empty hallways. 'Please stay alive, I can't lose you too.'

Timeskip

Report:

900 hours. Due to prior events from the day passed; both first year student: Itadori Yuuji, and second year student: L/n M/n (also special grade Jujutsu sorcerer) of Jujutsu tech university have been pronounced dead. "I can't help to think that it was my fault." The snowy haired sorcerer chuckled bitterly. A hand was curled into his hair, as his fingers tugged at the strands. "It couldn't have been. Those incompetent fools are." Nanami reassured from across the male. 

The two were seated across from each other in an empty room. Only two couches sat idly in the center. "The fact that the council is filled to the brim of cowardly heathens, has already been established. But hey, what can we expect." Gojo sarcastically answered. "Shouldn't both of us be experts in this?" Nanami held a stoic stature. 

"We all knew what we were getting into. Death was just another thing apart of the list of risks." Kento spoke. It wasn't a lie, the two had suffered such losses and learned what the consequences truly were. 

"It was inevitable." The word itself, pissed off Gojo to no end. Inevitable. Such a pathetic word, made by mortal chains who were paranoid of life. It always made him feel small; the word reminded him of how helpless he truly was during situations like this. 

It angered him, heck, he was livid in fury. But the more he tried to refuse reality, the more times he ran into the same wall. Helplessness.

Timeskip 

"Sukuna's host?" Shoko pointed towards the table, Itadori laid. "And...L/n." She lead the sentence on. Caressing the second-year's face, she clicked her tongue. "Anyways, I can dissect him however I want, right?" She asked referring to Itadori.

"Just make use of him." Gojo asked. "Of course I will. Who do you think you're talking too?"

"..."

"And we have direct instructions from the council for L/n. Those old farts aren't any fun. I was kind of curious of what was inside of that pretty little head of his."

With Fushiguro and Nobara

"He told us to "live long", but all your problems vanish when you you die. Was he your first comrade you've lost?" Nobara asked. Currently the two were sat on the steps of the entrance. "He was the first classmate." 

"Hmmph you seem oddly fine. After all that second-year died too." "I could say the same for you." Megumi shot back. "Well I only knew them for about two weeks. I'm not such a soft woman...that would cry over the death of people like them." The female's voice cracked, as her lip quivered.

"It's so hot though." Kugisaki complained, changing from the depressing topic. "Yeah, I wonder when we'll get our summer clothes." 

"What the hell? You're more depressing then ever.." Nobara sneered. "Megumi!" A voice interrupted. "Is this a wake?"

"Zenin-senpai."

"Don't call me by my family name. Maki. Maki!" Maki sounded out her name. Suddenly murmuring from behind a tree caught the three's attention. "He really did die too. Yesterday too! Another boy in first-year."

A tick mark formed, as Maki started to sweat. "Say it earlier! I'll seem like a cold-heartless devil!"

Panda and Inumaki stepped out from their 'hiding' spot. "Actually that's exactly what you are, you know?!" Panda yelled back.

"Tuna-Mayo." 

"Who are they?" Nobara pointed towards the three strangers. "They're out second-year senpais. Zenin-senpai, she's the best at handling charms out of us students. Inumaki-senpai is a specialist in spells. His only vocabulary is onigiri ingredients. And panda. 

There's another, Okkotsu-senpai. Along L/n-senpai, they were the only ones I could openly respect. He's overseas right now." Megumi explained. 'I wonder how Okkotsu's taking it. If he even knows yet. He and L/n-senpai were close.' "Are you just going to leave the panda's introduction at "Panda?" Kugisaki cut off Fushiguro's thoughts. "Oh sorry guys you're also still in mourning too." Panda bowed.

"We know how you must be feeling right now. We both lost L/n and Itadori. L/n was like family." Maki reassured. A small frown though lingering. "Mustard leaves-bonito flakes." 

"Through the grief though, we want you guys to attend the Kyoto sister exchange." Panda finished.

"What's that?"

With Gojo

"You know, I have a pretty shitty personality, Don't I?" Gojo asked from his slumped position. "I know." Ijichi sighed.

"I'll seriously slap you later, Ijichi." The threat caused a shiver to go down the male's spine.

"Why would someone like me, someone who doesn't have characteristics of a teacher, take a teaching job at a technical college? Ask me." "Why is that." Ijichi shookenly asked. "Because I have a dream."

"A dream you say?" Gojo leaned back in his seat.

"Yeah, as you know from what happened to M/n and Yuuji, the establishment is the den of evilness in the world of sorcery. It doesn't take much brain power to know that the council of elders are a council of fools, and idiots. 

It's a bargain sale for rotten oranges. I'll hit reset on the shithole that the world of sorcery is. I could easily kill those at the top, but they would simply be replaced, and no one would follow someone who'd kill the higher-ups. That's why I chose education. To raise strong and clever comrades. That's why sometimes I dump my missions on my students."

Ijichi gave an unimpressed look. "Not because you wanted to skip out of them?" "They're all extraordinary. Especially that third-year, Hakari and second-year, Okkotsu. They'll become shamen who could even rival me." Gojo's fist clenched as he glared at the table in front of him.

"Yuuji was one of them." Through gritted teeth,  his glare downcasted. "M/n...was the only one who could surpass me."  

"I'm going to start now." Shoko pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. Ijichi started shaking in fear as he pointed behind the female. "Huh, what's wrong." "G-G-Gojo." An amused smirk formed as he saw behind her. Itadori was sitting up with a mildly confused expression. 

"Woah, where's my clothes?!" Itadori exclaimed glancing downwards. "H-H-He H-H-He's a-a-alive!" 

"Don't be so noisy Ijichi."

Shoko pulled her mask down a disappointing look sent to Itadori. "That's a shame." 

An awkward silence befell. "Ummm this is embarrassing." The pink head nervously scratched his neck. 

"Welcome back." Gojo placed his hand out. "Yo! I'm back!" Itadori slapped the outstretched hand. "Good to see you're alive." "It's good to be back. Can I get some clothes though?" Gojo and Shoko nodded at each other before heading out of the room. "We'll be back."

When the two left, Itadori started grabbing the garments from a bag. While changing, his eyes caught an oddly familiar tuft of  (h/c) colored hair from next to him. 'That's impossible.' Tugging his shirt on, he inspected further. Pushing back the cloth covering the body, Yuuji's eyes widened in realization. 'No!' "I-Ijichi w-who's this?" He asked pointing towards the male. "That's L/n. He was a second-year here." 

From the confirmation of his identity, a feeling of grief and sadness started to form at the pit of his stomach. Tracing along the scars that littered his neck. A worried frown formed. 'What happened to you?' 

Although, inside him, where Sukuna sat, the king of curse's 'throne' stood empty. Sukuna watched in horror as Itadori had pulled the sheet back. Something continued to eat away at him. He couldn't die again right? He just saw him again. He never told him of the past. 

The same sick feeling filled Sukuna as felt as though he was going to puke. "Not again!" His anguish screams filled the domain, as he threw, and broke numerous skulls that had made up the pile.

"Not again please." Sukuna faintly pleaded, as his kimono and hair dripped with water. Back on the outside Itadori had clenched his nails into his fist. Small droplets of blood seeped from his grasp.

"Why'd you have to go and die already?"

M/n POV

The coldness was the first thing I felt when I woke up. While the breeze was soft, the coldness of it all was unforgiving. It was all to familiar though. That day... 

"RUN M/N! DONT LOOK BACK!" 

It hurts. Stop.

"Your whole clan is pathetic~"

Stop please. It hurts.

"What are you going to do? You're too weak."

A pain filled scream echoed throughout the darkness, one I could only assume as my own. "What do you want? Please stop!"

"You killed us! It's your fault!" 

The voices bounced off the walls from every angle. "What do you want from me?" I cried out. 

The echoing voices seem to pause. Silence. A singular figure started to emerge from the snowy ground.

"You're not real. You died 10 years ago." My feet moved, as I started backpedaling. The figure, a woman. A yellow kimono dressed her body. Long (h/c) hair framing her chest, and face. (E/c) orbs which seemed so foreign. "I'm here my love. You're here with me." She reached out a palm towards my face, the only reaction was a flinch which was returned.

"It's me n/n. I'm back." Her soft tone felt deceiving as she stuck out her arms towards me. "It's been so long." Shaking my head, I refused to accept. "You're dead, stop this. Please." Fingers started to tug and pull the messy strands of hair. 

"M/n, please." Warmth filled my core, as I was pulled into an embrace. My legs wobbled as we both fell to the floor. Sobs started racking my form as the woman, I've only known as my mother held me in her arms. "M-Mom? Why'd you leave me? I-I'm s-sorry, I was t-too weak-!" 

"Hey, shhhh...It's okay. You did everything you could. It's not your fault at all sweety." Coming face to face with her, her thumbs wiped my eyes. "You're the strongest person I know M/n."

"Y-You left though! Y-You l-left and I d-d.." Words started getting choked up as a lump formed in my throat. "And that's one of the biggest burdens and regrets I have to carry." She spoke calmly pushing back a strand of hair. 

"You've done so many good things and helped people in need. I've been with you ever since I passed. To think, my own son was such charmer though." She quirked a brow teasingly in hopes of lifting the mood. A small chuckle escaped. "I missed you." A bittersweet sigh left her parted lips before a smile graced her features. 

"As have I." A comforting silence filled the void as we sat in each other's embrace. "M/n, although I despise it with all of my heart, you can't stay." Eyes widened, I pushed her body back.

"What do you mean? I just got here?" A frantic expression slowly forming. 

"M/n..."

"I just got you back! You can't leave!" She once more stuck out her hand stroking my cheek. "M/n, you are the strongest person I've known my entire life. You've saved hundreds if not thousands. And you have people who love you back there! If you stay, you'll break their hearts." A shaky breath left, as tears started to fall again. 

"I know. I'm so selfish! But I can't find the heart to see you leave again."  Pushing my head into the crook of her neck. "You have too. You still have so many first's you have to fill though. Get married, live your life. It's not your time yet. I'll be with you every step of the way." She smiled, kissing my forehead. 

"I love you M/n." 

"I love you too." Her figure started to fade into small cherry blossoms. "It's time to wake up M/n~" With that, she disappeared entirely. A bittersweet smile managed to appear. Collapsing into the snow, I let the coldness finally envelope me as my eyes shut closed.

'It's time to wake up.'

#jujutsu kaisen #seme male reader #jjk #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jjk megumi #jjk sukuna #jjk gojo #jjk itadori #jjk nobara #jjk inumaki #jjk panda #top male reader #male reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk zenin

[cheekygreenty]

Good 4 u - The Darkling x Reader

Here’s a draft I found, I remember quickly writing this on the train home from college, listening to Olivia Rodrigo’s song on repeat until I got sick of it. Enjoy bahahahah 😂😂

Alina this, Sun-Summoner that, Sankta Alina the other. It was annoying to constantly hear her name on other people's lips, Aleksander's especially. You should have known his obsession with her would turn into love but you were blind.

He said she was nothing worth his salt, Alina is the key to more power, he would say before he proclaimed his eternal love for you, showering you in love and pleasure. When your relationship fell apart and your heart broke, he took a piece of you with him, the temperate part, the side of you that was calm and rational. For now you were the walking form of resentment. He never cheated but this was much worse.

Aleksander didn't seem fazed, at all. No tears for the death of so many good memories, no sadness for the end of a chapter in his life. Maybe he experienced time differently from you because who in Saint's name pursues somebody so quickly after a breakup? Somebody who's already sure of their feelings long before they change their life around.

You held back your gags as you watched the two fawn over each other at the Winter Fete. She wore his color, black, and you had to admit she looked half decent in it too. You didn't hate her, she never did anything to you. But him, Oh saints you would kill him where he stood if you could. He looked happy, unlike you. It's like we never even happened, what the fuck is up with that?

There was a time when he looked at you like that, eyes full of adoration and love. Now he looked right through you, treating you like a stranger. 'He took out the trash' Zoya shrugged when you drunkenly told her what happened. Maybe she was right, maybe he never even loved me, maybe I was there to pass the time.

He was so unaffected by your break up it made you livid. Every glance spared in his direction radiated anger and disgust. You didn't even try to hide it anymore.

Your demonstration was about to begin. You were helping the Inferni twins show off your fire skills before Alina would end the show with a bang. You didn't care for parties shared with the Grand Palace and were guaranteed to leave right after your little firecracker of a performance, but some part of you itched to stay until the end.

You could see Polina get up on a small pedestal, signaling for you to get to yours. Aleksander stepped to the side, Alina at his arm. Gross. The power beamed off of him, he was doing good without me. What a shame.

You played around with the twins, completely forgetting the room of diplomats and even Aleksander, who never spared you a look. The fire felt good on your hands, swaying from side to side as you molded the element in your hands before splitting it in two, shooting it at the twins. Using your powers gave you a sense of calm and peace, but it never rid you of the rage you felt. Maybe you were too emotional.

You got down with a smile as the claps eased out. You went to leave, eager to leave the stiff atmosphere of the room. At least you showed up. But his voice made you stop at the door. Instead of it giving you a shiver of pleasure, it straightened your spine in defense.

'Her name is Alina Starkov' Someone pass me a bucket. His hands came together, submerging the room into darkness. Alina began her show, the light letting you catch a glimpse of him. As opposed to the entirety of the room, you only had eyes for him. He looked at her as if she was a goddess, he worshipped her. Fury rose in you. He looked at me like that first, or was it a lie? Maybe he never cared.

You wished for nothing more than for Alina to reject him, see him for the man he truly is. If he could play you the way he did then Saint's knows what he'll do to the poor young girl. You were headstrong and stubborn and he still managed to screw you over despite your built-up walls.

But what if they last? He'll have more power, the Sun-Summoner by his side and Ravka under his rule. And you'll still be you. An Inferni with a grudge.

Before you knew it, the room returned to its previous state and the diplomats were bowing down to their Sankta. You missed the whole thing brooding over Aleksander, who still stared at Alina like she was the air he needed to breathe.

You scoffed and walked away, not wanting to be in the same room as him anymore. What a dick. You strode around the Little Palace trying to cool down. One champagne glass turned into two then five. Still you felt the nagging tickle of anger. You suddenly heard shouts and signs of a fight, racing over to the room it was coming from. Even tipsy, the soldier in you replied immediately.

'This is for Zlatan' You ran through the door seeing an oprichniki slicing Alina's throat open. Oh Saint's no. You pounced on the man, quickly catching sight of Genya already on the floor tending to Alina. Apparently, you weren't the only one who heard the scuffle as the General's guards flooded the hallway, taking the rogue soldier from you. Your mind snapped back into reality, searching for Alina but finding a young Inferni in the black kefta. A double for security. Smart.

'Inform the General' Genya spoke, leaning over the body. Your blood ran cold, he would probably ignore you. But you did as she asked, running to where you saw him last. You searched for his black kefta in the sea of extravagantly dresses diplomats. You spotted Ivan chatting in the corner with Fedyor, 'Ivan where is the General?' You hid your blood-stained hands behind your back in an attempt to prevent unnecessary panic. 'In his quarters' He nodded his head towards the big double doors.

You walked away with a mumbled thank you. In his quarters. If Alina's absence was any indication of what he was doing, it would be a miracle if you didn't slap him the second you got the chance.

Your knock was sharp and loud in contrast to your shaking hands. Then you heard it, her laugh. You've got to be kidding me. Your bloody hands braced themselves against the doorframe, clutching the wood for dear life. Better the door than his face. As his face passed in your mind, the door opened just a tad, his body towering over your own. The smile he wore quickly washed away, replaced with a stern look.

'Y/N what are yo-' You stopped him with a signal of your hand, you didn't have the patience.

'Marie got attacked in the fitting room. She's dead. He's detained.' He looked at you passively, obviously wishing it was anyone but you knocking on his door right now.

'Wait here'

He shut the door again. But you could make out his conversation with Alina in the dead quiet of the hallway. You sent a silent prayer to the Saints about your previous argument. Let her see him for what he is.

You slowly backed away from the door, not wanting to hear anymore. You heard his boots step out into the hallway and took his silence as a sign to walk ahead to where the man was being kept. For you, the tension was awkward and insufferable but for him it was probably normal, although you knew he felt your pulsating rage.

There was nobody on this side of the Palace, his quarters weren't available to everybody and that made you thankful because what you were about to do would definitely be regarded as treason.

He didn't have time to register you turning around or the hand that slapped him across the cheek.

The noise echoed down the hallway, your hand stung, maybe that was too hard.

His jaw clenched but he didn't retalaite. Why was his ignorance such a trigger for you? It was what started this, him pretending you didn't exist caused you to fly off the walls.

You shoved his chest with all your might. Do something. He let you push him away but never looked you in the eyes.

'Are you going to say something?' You were furious, venom dripped from your words but had no effect on him. 'The big bad Aleksander lost for words? First I've ever seen it'

He turned his head towards you, looking into your eyes for the first time in weeks. It surprised you because you didn't miss it.

'What do you want me to say?' His voice was void of any emotion, no anger or pain, his composure never dropping. He was the complete opposite of you. Saints, you were the crazy ex.

You didn't reply. The truth was you didn't know what you wanted him to say. Nothing he could muster would fix this situation. His actions were irreversible and Alina was still in his chambers, the room where so many of your fondest memories took place.

'I wish to transfer to a camp. Permenantly.' You had been mulling over the decision for days now. You had put in a request with Ivan a week ago but never got an answer.

'I need you here teaching the students' So Ivan did send it on. Was this another one of his ways of ignoring you?

'Tough. I don't want to be here.' You faced your choices with logic. Your anger would never go away, the hurt of your first love betraying you soaked deep into your bones. Aleksander was immortal, he would never leave this Palace. You had no other option. He sighed loudly.

'Y/N let's keep our personal and work li-' You went for another slap, he deserved it, but this time he caught your hand mid-air, pushing you away gently. You walked backward, disgust turning in your stomach at the response your body had to his touch. He was an amplifier and the surety he brought you would always be there regardless of your feeling for him. You hated it.

'Good for you Aleksander. You got the girl, the power.... at least let me have something' Your voice cracked slightly. You wouldn't cry in front of him.

'I'll have Ivan sort it out'

With that, you left the hallway, completely forgetting about the task at hand, happy to finally have a day where he didn't cross your path.

Aleksander stood there watching your back as you walked away from him. You would never know the pain and anguish he felt every time somebody mentioned you, or when he thought of you. He loved you deeply, more than anything in this world, so he had to let you go. He would hate himself if anything happened to you in his fight for Ravka and Grisha, so he had to push you away.

He was selfish for ignoring you but also keeping you around. He knew it hurt you to see him around Alina, he knew all of it. He truly did. But he was too greedy. His own actions were confusing him. Push her away, make her hate you but keep her safe, keep her with you. It was impossible, either one or the other.

As you rounded the corner, he memorized you, all of you. It would be his last memory of you.

'Good for you Y/N, leave me and be safe'

My masterlist 🖤

Taglist ( tell me if you want to be added!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend

#shadow and bone #the darkling #grisha #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #alina starkov #general kirigan x reader

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader] SMUT

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 8: The Truth ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2200>

Warnings: more angst and feelings! 18+ SMUT; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), f receiving oral, fingering… very soft sex andddd a praise kink because it’s Din’s first time giving oral :’)

AN: Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! i think i’m still semi-shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

Din didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t understand. Not the Manda’lor? How could that be possible? If you weren’t the Manda’lor, then... who were you? As if you were reading his thoughts, you closed your eyes and turned around so you were facing the brick wall behind you, and tried your very best to explain the truth. You had to at least make an attempt. You ignored the choked nervous knot in your throat. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

How could you ever even begin to explain this to him. You’d never spoken about what happened back on Mandalore to anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all this time. It was so painful. But you had to try.

“My mother was Duchess Satine Kryze, and I am, by technicality, the Princess of Mandalore. I always will be. When my mother died, fifteen years ago, I became heir to the throne. I became the Manda’lor, and... everything was fine. I had everything under control, and, dare I say, I was a good leader. Until one night, there was a planned attack by the Imperials on my city and they slaughtered everyone. They raided homes and killed children…” a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Moff Gideon came to see me. He wanted… the darksaber. So he had his troopers raid the palace and they found it. And once he wielded it, he became the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And, I still don’t have it back… I’ve-- I’ve never felt so helpless. And responsible for the murder of my people.”

You were crushed. You thought by admitting all of this, it would take the giant burden you’d been holding this entire time off your shoulders, but it didn’t. It only made you dread all the built up pain and anguish you had in your heart… for letting this happen and for lying to Din. You really had failed everyone around you, but most importantly, you’d failed yourself.

Bringing your hand to your wedding ring, you twiddled it around your finger and took a shaky exhale. “Din, I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I can leave, and you’ll never see me again. I promise you that much. But I will get the darksaber back and I will be the rightful ruler of Mandalore. These were my people he killed. He stole it from me. And I won’t let the Imperial’s take anymore than they already have. Not without a fight.”

Compiling all the remaining bravery left in you, you turned back around to face Din and opened your eyes.

And your heart stopped.

His eyes were big and brown and sad. He had short, shaggy brown hair and a light stubble which grazed his jaw. His pink lips were parted slightly as he looked at you with his own eyes. No visor modifying his vision of you. This was raw, and completely him. He’d taken off his helmet.

You tried to ask him why, but no words came out.

“So that’s why the Imperials were chasing after you?” His jaw ticked but Maker, his voice without the helmet was as soft as silk. Rich and velvety.

He was handsome too. More handsome than you could’ve ever even imagined. In a rugged way, not in your typical Prince of Mandalore way. But you liked it a lot.

“Yes,” you swallowed thickly. “Moff Gideon imprisoned me in the palace and he never wanted me to leave. He made me promise to never tell anyone that he had the darksaber, because no doubt, any Mandalorian who found out the truth would venture after him to try and reclaim it for themselves. I was forced to live this lie. But I had to do something. That’s when I sent out the distress signal to coverts around the galaxy. That’s when you came for me, and helped me escape.”

Din tried his hardest to process your words. It… made sense. His gaze fell from your face and he looked down at the ground. He looked so sad and your heart ached. If there was a way you could fix this, you were pretty sure you’d do anything. In that very moment, you didn’t even care about the Mandalorian throne or the darksaber. You just cared about Din.

“Din, I’m so sorry.” you began, preparing to fully beg for his forgiveness, but before you could say anymore, his lips came crashing into yours.

He didn’t have anything to say to you, really. He was just so enamoured by you, that he didn’t care. You could lie to him a million times over and he’d forgive you, because you were just too perfect. You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he loved you.

He should be mad, he knew that much. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you when all he could think about was just how beautiful your lips were. The entire time you were talking, he was fighting the urge to kiss you. Until finally, he just couldn’t resist anymore.

His mouth was soft and fit perfectly against yours. Your eyes snapped shut and a surprised moan fell from your lips as he took you in his arms and held you. You loved the way it felt… his hands on your body and caressing your skin. Was this… the first time he’d kissed? He was so passionate yet gentle, and Maker, you didn’t want it to end. He was absolutely gorgeous, and such an amazing kisser. When you thought he was going to break away, you raised your hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, swiping your tongue over his lower lip and signalling for him to continue the kiss. He did so, and you opened your mouth, granting him deeper access.

A minute or so later, when the both of you were practically gasping for breath, he pulled off you and rested his forehead against yours. If he was unsure about his feelings before, he knew for certain now.

“We’ll have to leave at dawn,” Din said eventually, huffing and looking into your eyes. His hands were still planted firmly on your hips and he nudged his nose against yours. “There’ll be less Imps around, the earlier we leave.”

You were baffled. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“We’re getting the darksaber back,” he confirmed. “You’re getting the darksaber back. You are the rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

You couldn’t believe it. He still wanted to help you, even after admitting to him that you’d been lying. He no longer had a duty to protect you, and yet he was doing this not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

“Are you sure?” you gasped, completely exasperated. “Are you sure you still want to help me?”

Din nodded his head wordlessly before kissing you again. “We should rest before our escape tomorrow,” Din breathed. “I have a room here.”

“Take me.” you begged, curling your body into his.

Din’s room at the covert was no different to the many other rooms that were habited by other Mandalorians. It was a small boxy room with a bed in the corner. At least it was a real bed though, and not Din’s poor excuse for a bed back on the Crest. He closed the door behind him and turned on the light, although it wasn’t bright whatsoever. It barely illuminated the room in this dull, amber colour, but it was just enough to cast your shadows on the wall.

You gulped, not tearing your eyes from him once. “I think you’re very handsome,” you blurted out, smiling when you noticed a rosy blush cross Din’s cheeks. “And I think it’s a real shame that you have to hide your face. I just know that those brown eyes could charm you out of trouble.”

Din chuckled nervously. “I think you’re very pretty too,” he said. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

You shook your head, the smile never leaving your lips once. “No.”

When Din kissed you, it felt like heaven. As the moment became more and more heated, both of you ended up undressing, and discarding your clothing and his armour into a pile on the floor.

Din carefully laid you down on his bed and hovered over you, planting kisses down your neck, along your collarbones and down your chest. He brought his hand over to your breasts and began with giving them a few experimental squeezes. He brushed his thumb over your hardening nipple and pinched it, earning a moan of pleasure from you.

Not taking his lips from yours, he dropped his hand down your body and to the hem of your panties, dipping his finger under the waistband and feeling just how wet you’d already become. He chuckled to himself, his thick and deft index finger tracing quick and tight circles across your clit. You arched your back into him, a foggy haze crossing your vision as he worked you into a complete state of euphoria.

You chanted his name like it was a prayer, caressing his biceps and holding onto him. After he drew out your first orgasm, he tapped on your thigh. You lifted up your ass so he could pull down your panties and take them off completely. You were an absolute sight to behold, there was no denying that. Your folds were slick with your arousal and Din done everything he could to contain himself. Licking his lips, he knelt down between your legs and began to lap his tongue around your bundle of nerves, even sucking occasionally on your sweet spot.

“Does-- does that feel good?” Din asked, briefly pausing just before you were about to cum again. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and Din just wanted to make sure you were alright. “I’m-- I’ve never done this before.” he confessed.

“Oral?” you asked breathlessly, rolling your head into the pillow.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nibbling and pressing lovebites into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Never took off my helmet.”

You moaned something incoherent when the curve of his nose rubbed against your clit and you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your core.

“It’s good Din, so good,” you sighed longingly. “You’re doing so good. Please don’t stop.”

So Din kept at it until eventually you were a heaving, quivering mess, and he drove out your second orgasm. When he pulled away from you, a trail of his saliva pulled between your wet cunt and his lips, but he immediately licked himself clean and leaned over your body so he could kiss you again. The way you could taste yourself on his mouth felt so erotic.

You pulled his hard and leaking cock from the confines of his underwear and began to pump at his length. He was hot and heavy, and somehow, he was even better than you had imagined. Even as you stroked him, you yearned for him, and you could feel your cunt clench around nothing as you wished for him to fuck you already.

Din loved how you were a needy, squirming mess beneath him. He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed his engorged tip inside of you, taking a few moments to allow you to adjust to his length. The wet noises as he thrusted into you were lewd and obscenely loud, and if you were with anyone else you might’ve felt embarrassed -- but as Din built up his rhythm and held on to your hips, you couldn’t even think straight enough to feel embarrassed.

“Din,” you cried out, letting your fingers curl in his brown locks of hair. “Oh Din.”

His own hips began to stutter and with a loud gasp, you felt his cock convulse inside of you and a spurt of his creamy hot seed rope your walls.

Din let himself soften inside of you as he caught his breath, eventually rolling off you and laying by your side. He wrapped his arms around you and spooned you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until eventually, you fell asleep in his arms.

“You will reclaim Mandalore,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

_________________________________________

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

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#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x you

[cornacopicimagines]

A Rose Blooms │t.h

pairing: prince!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 8.4k (WHOOPS)

warnings: arranged marriage, SMUT (we been knew), slight praise kink and 10000% breeding kink, therefore unprotected sex, swearing, slight cockwarming & good lord there is so much

summary: Perhaps God does have a sick sense of humour. To allow such misguided souls to one another. Souls that shouldn't be allowed to feel the sense of happiness he can provide, that should accept their dire situations. The Prince of Wales and his new bride can attest to the quite well. 

a/n: what do y'all mean a historical prince au!tom holland with major smut and breeding kink is not a thing. i know the sluts want it, even if they never ask for it. i must provide it.

masterlist

━━★✼☆｡

y/n of Burgundy was a splendid piece of artwork. A sweet and humble French Princess with a huge dowry and a bright future. It was as if DaVinci had casted the girl from Venus's shadow and gifted the baby to displeased parents. Parents who so wished for a boy, that the arrival of a healthy girl is so overlooked that the girl is better off dead. The sadness is heard across not only France but the entirety of Europe. Poor y/n of Burgundy! The Unlucky Princess of Burgundy! It's all she hears; she is deemed a tragedy before her life is even written. Perhaps that is her greatest misdeed in this life, that because she is born the wrong sex to what is expected she is casted to the side as a woman destined for slight and anguish for her entire life. Even if this is the case, y/n wished to think of herself as unwritten for the moment being. A woman waiting for a calling no matter how big or small. A woman who's only current wish to sit atop this windowsill, letting the cool September French breeze kiss her flushed cheeks. Alas, even this is stripped from her.

"Get off the window, y/n!" her mother's shrill voice shrieks as The Duchess yanks y/n to the floor. It's harsh and frantic, as if an arrow is to fly through and hit her. Her tightly coiled chest hit's the wooden floor hard. It knocks the only wind y/n really has left, a wasteful shame.

"I am sorry mama," y/n responds quietly, her hands desperately pat to find a piece of wood that will not cut up into her as she attempts to regain her balance. Though her room is filled with four maids not a single one offers their own hand to help her. She knows it is because of her mother's cowl. If they dare so move in a direction towards her, The Duchess will become a Fury of Hell himself.

"The breeze is so sweet at this time of afternoon." Finally, y/n does place her feet back on the floor with a small clack of her heels. She takes a moment to take in the state of her gown. While she has countless others, something about the pure white of the satin being destroyed by the inevitable dust that has collected is disheartening even to her. The pattern of bright red roses now looks more of a dull blood grey than a true flower.

"The breeze is something so frivolous my dear," The Duchess is suddenly content with her surroundings. "Busy yourself with something more intelligent, it makes for a much better bride." 

"Thank you for the wise advice mother," y/n snaps, her fingers gripping the ruined material of her gown. "I'll be sure to not engage myself in something that gives me the slightest bit of freedom in the lifeless castle," it was no louder than a whisper. Her braided hair still muffling the sounds.

As if her words seemed to not even reach her, The Duchess mumbles in agreement before taking her leave. The door shutting loudly behind her, the air was finally safe to breathe. The maids immediately begin to swarm her. Like flies to honey; they grapple her, prod at her and pinch her. It was too much. It was as if a million ants had swarmed her body, nipping at any piece of flesh they could just because it was what they were meant to do. An instinctive need to draw more blood than necessary, it was overwhelming. They inspected her perfectly capable hands, wondering if their incompetence has cost them their heads because y/n of Brittany split her blood and The Duchess refused to let them help. She was suffocating.

She didn't mean for it to slip, it just did. Her voice raised, "Get out." It was softer at first. "Get out," they still didn't move, still abusing her. "I said get out!" Everything stopped for a moment, the air her mother had ensued had now come back. The maids all took a single step away from her. y/n felt the tears threaten her, warning by dancing across her lower lashes. "Do none of you listen, get out for Christ’s sake!" That's all it took, in a matter of seconds y/n was finally alone. She could hear the faint song of the trees whispering to her, it was calm, but she couldn't appreciate it. She dropped to her knees and began to softly weep into her palms. The groans muffled by the skin of her hands and the tears halted from falling by her fingers. In this moment and forever ahead of her, she was desolate.

But like all things, even this bleak minute of sorrow was cut to an end by the deafening sound of her father's boots storming down the hallways towards her room.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom spectated as the pole shattered into a thousand pieces. The splinters hitting ever edge of the arena. He watched as the knight fell limp and as his horse rode on through the chaos. The young prince roared out of his seat, his knees hitting the harsh wood of the royal box. His name echoed on the young knight's medallion above his breast. He had picked the winning side and rightfully so, Sir Harrison had never been defeated. For a moment, Tom turned around to face his beaming mother. A woman who loved the games, Tom always relied on his mother to accompany him to these festivities but his father. The Prince would always ask graciously but was refused every time. Constantly belittled for the consul of old men with a working cock between them, it was a joke. The King had many failed efforts to rile the English people to cause, Tom had offered a large gathering to help inspire the people. The King told his son this would cause nothing but useless panic and many painful deaths. Scoffing, Tom waltzed back to his seat. It was uncomfortable, it felt as if ants hand made their nets below the seat's support. He wished to ride alongside them.

"You cannot and you will not," The Queen smiled at him, waving to squires as they led the horses away. Tom's head swivelled around to meet his mother's. "I refuse it my son."

"I had said nothing mother," Tom replied quietly, he too doing his duty to the lower noble men who had come out today. Each one sweatier than the last. "Perhaps you are hearing things, 10 childbirths can change a woman's mind," Tom stifled a laugh, too which he received a slap on the arm for.

"Don't play smart with me son," The Queen spoke coolly, her countless rings clanged as she rose from her seat. Tom followed suit, allowing a hand for his now middle-aged mother for gracious help down the impossibly large stairs. "I almost lost your father to one of these silly little cock shows, I will not go through it with you my boy."

Tom raised an eyebrow, watching his mother's golden trim become bleaker by the stain of the grass. "I had half a mind to believe you enjoyed these silly little cock shows," Tom played. The Queen peered up at his through hooded lids. It was dangerous waters even for him, a man who has seen the blood of war. He allowed his mother and her ladies to return to Windsor, watching as if to wait for the shark to disappear.

"Your Royal Highness, if I may have a word," a soft voice called out from below the podium. Tom paced to the edge and stared down. Constance, he thought to himself as he smiled wickedly. She was a short and mildly plump woman, with wild unruly hair that had to be constantly shoved out of her face. He remembers her name because of how sweet his name sounded dripping from her tongue. Countless nights spent in the throes of passion, wearing moonlight as cloth. Tom knew he had dishonoured her just by bedding her, but he couldn't help himself. She was the first woman who really took an interest in him. Still, he had to come to her aid on multiple occasions. While he likes the way, she grips at his biceps, he however, doesn't like when her father comes storming into court demanding his daughter's honour back because Tom had prayed on her. Perhaps, it was the odd lack of ladies that would flock to his side or maybe it was simply because he wanted a little bit of fun before the inevitable. 

"You may, my Lady," Tom smiled widely making his way to her side. He could tell the mud was ruining the polished leather of his boots, he completely forgot about his favourite riding boots he had put on in hopes that he may indulge himself in the sports. Still, he pushed the though deep down at met her eyes. He not an unusually tall man but the way he almost dwarfed her was delectable. As he watched her squirm, he wondered as to why she would speak with him where anyone could see. There was no danger for him, but the world's eyes were on her.

She played with the small ring on her pinkie finger, riding it up and down the skin. "Why did you not tell me," she whispered, refusing to look up at him. Tears began to well.

"What on earth do you mean?" He queered, genuinely curious as to what had got her all worked up. His hands went to stroke her cheek gently, but she abruptly pulled away from him. This time her eyes did meet his, the salty liquid glossed over her eyes.

"It is bad enough that I am called the Prince's Whore but now they are cursing my name because I have ruined the royal couple!" she cried out, her deep green dress swallowing the mud below. "That a stupid maid slut has stolen you away from the beautiful French Princess!"

Tom saw nothing but red. Not because of Constance but because of what she said to him. He had begged his parents to let him choose his own wife. If he was to rule England after his father's passing, he wished to at least have a woman whom he truly loved by his side. He said nothing to her as he stormed away. The small drizzle of rain hitting his skin as he picked up his speed. He knew that his father was in a council meeting alongside his mother. Perfect opportunity to unleash his rage. He faintly heard her calling after him, that was muffled by the buzzing in his ears.

He had been told who he was meant to be and what he was meant to be from the moment he was born. Hardly ever seeing his mother or younger brothers because he was eldest, never knowing true companionship because he would be constantly cooped up listening to his advisors and tutors as they taught him the art of war and foreign policies. This was his one chance to spend his life with a woman who understood him and would grow a loving family much in contrast to what he had.

His hands pushed the heavy wooden doors, they hit the walls with a large smack. The entire council stood for the Prince, with the exception of his mother and sickly father. He walked past them with ease and took his seat at the opposite end of table. His eyes focused solely on his father as he absently noted the appearance of his son.

"Wonderful of you to finally join us," The Duke of Essex smiled weakly, in any attempt to deflect the tension elsewhere.

"When were you going to tell me?" Tom spoke, his voice barely above a whisper and laced with venom. His elbows digging into the cool wood of granite of the table. He watched his father finally face him; the man was a wreck. His greying hair stuck to his hair with copious amounts of sweat, his brown eyes had sunk deadly back into the sockets and his skin was pale and filled with wrinkles. "When were you going to tell me father?"

"You were spending too much time with that scullery maid," The King respond calmly, still flipping through royal documents. Tom was on the verge of an explosion. If the Prince was known for something, it was his anger. Much like Mount Vesuvius, he didn't get angry often, he hated how it affect those around him. The times he is pushed to the breaking point however, he was destroy everything in his path. "We had to put an end to it."

"We?" Tom pushed.

"Your mother made the arrangements; she is being brought here as we speak." Once more, the King had no interest with the devastated look on the Prince's face. Too caught up in an attempt to stile a cough.

"You promised me my own choice of bride," Tom seethed. He faced his mother, if the King wouldn't listen perhaps the Queen would.

His mother sighed; the silk of her sleeves draped over the arms of the chair. "That was before you had instinctively made the choice, we hoped that perhaps you would have fallen for the daughter of a Duke or at worst an Earl. You were going to marry that girl, after everything her family has done against the court. We couldn't allow it."

Tom jaw clicked. "Who is she?" He was done arguing, done protesting.

"You'll marry the granddaughter of the French King; y/n of Burgundy," his father spoke up before his mother could sugar coat it. "The family sent a portrait of the girl as the first payment of her dowry; it has already been placed in your room. Hopefully, you can find the slightest bit of attraction for your new bride before the wedding."

"Will I get to meet her beforehand?" He at least hoped to see the girl with his own eyes before calling her his wife. Finally, the King met his eyes. He dropped the quill on the desk as locked his eyes, leaning towards him.

"Did you really think you'd get that luxury?"

━━★✼☆｡

The sea breeze prickled at y/n skin as she sat atop the deck. She could tell they were getting closer. The wind went from a soft tone to a howling scream, something her great aunt had told her all about. English weather could go from a perfect sunny day to god's worst mood. In all honesty, she preferred it to French. It was wild and unpredictable, something she so desperately needed.

She remembered how she got into this predicament as she lay down a 9 ace on the table. Waiting for the ship to land.

"You'll leave tomorrow, it will take you a good couple of days to get there." Her father exclaimed, picking a raspberry from the plate and eating the sweet fruit. y/n stood in silence, still reeling her tears back into her eyes. She refused to weep in front of the Duke. She moved around the large room, in order to hear his words. "You'll make a fine queen," he smiled, placing his hands atop her cheeks. y/n smiled warmly before raising a concern.

"How do you know this will be different than the last?" she asked quietly, staring down at her shoes. Her father sighs before picked his coat up from the chair.

y/n placed her bets, her hand is exquisite. Three queen and a pair of Kings. If she doesn't win, it's as if God is going against her. The men that sit beside her raise their brows in confusion. She's not backing down.

"Because, you know their language and their culture from Great Aunt Mary. You were her favourite after all," her father tells her, the memory of the old lady teaching her English brings a curve to her lips. That was not the answer she was looking for, however. Her father knows it as well, he knows the answer she wants but he cannot give it to her. "Trust me pumpkin," the endearment is wonderful. Unlike her mother, y/n's father has always been kind to her. She doesn't know if it because she is his eldest daughter or because her brother is a lousy boy and she is the only child with a head still attached to her shoulder blades.

She releases her tension; she knows whatever comes out of this she must go along with it. She must accept whatever situation is handed to her and accept her duty as a future queen and mother to the English Throne.

y/n squeals, her hand's won. The rest of the chips are placed in her corner, she is asking if they want to go another round but instead, they all huff and walk away from her. y/n feels her heart sink into her stomach. Perhaps the English wind has turned their moods sour. Soon enough her worries are washed away as the boat docks into Brighton and y/n hears the cheers for her. She can't exactly make out what they are saying. Sadly, she doesn't get a chance to even greet her new subjects as her new English ladies are gently pushing her towards the carriage. The only thing she can do is wave and smile at them, hoping to instil a fraction of hope for the new royal couple. As she steps into the carriage, a huge white dress follows her. The abundance of ladies and herself are stuck in the cramped space for a little over an hour before they start agreeing to change her dress into the one being coddled.

"Why? This is dress is perfect as it is," y/n laughed gently, her fingers playing with the pearls that lace the neckline.

"Forgive me, my lady, but His Majesty; The King has requested that you wear a white gown." One of the younger girls pipes up. Sighing, y/n nods her head to agree and goes to stop the carriage.

While they don't completely undress her, she knows that the smock under her dress is shear and leave nothing to the imagination. Quickly they strip her of the current dress, even unlacing the corset before adding another one. As they place the soft silk of her veil over her head, she can hear the ringing bells at Westminster. It hasn't completely dawned on her what she is exactly going through. Marrying a man she has never met. Marrying a man for all she knows could be a tyrant. She's heard quite a few English Monarchs fall under that said category. Her heart started to jump now; she could fell the beat thump against her vocal box.

The people began to line the city. Countless bodies waved at her as she strolled through the city of London. The abbey somehow seemed ten times bigger in person. White rose petals fell through the air as the coachman opened the door for her. The walkway was paved with red velvet. Her heels felt as though she was ruining the beautiful material as she walked.

Tom can physically hear her pounding heartbeat from where he stands. He can't exactly make out her face, but he can see the white gown strutting towards him. It's the same patterns as the dress his mother wore more than 20 years ago. He's seen it in countless paintings, his mother scowling as she attempts to salvage any positive thing out of such tremendous pain. Harrison lays a hand on his shoulder; the contact makes him jump.

"I heard she looks like a siren," he joked, dusting a small particle of fluff off Tom's shoulder. "Perhaps she'll sound like one too," the comment was enough to grant the knight a hard whack on his arm from the Prince. He truly did wonder if she would as beautiful as the painting which depicted her. A small red rose for his house in her fingertips as she grinned softly. It was as if she was staring into his soul.

Tom reached out to allow her aid in getting up the stairs. She graciously accepted muttering a small thank you as her other hand lifted the countless layers of fabric to mend her steps. Her touch was soft, something he wasn't used to. The gentle touch of a noble woman, even if it was only upon his fingers. The entirety of Westminster Abbey went silent as the faced each other.

y/n could barely hear anything over her rampant anxiety. Though she was eased slightly as she blindly grasped at his fingers, she was afraid she gripped a little too tightly. Finally, she stood in front of him. The gown dipping down the stairs to end in her ladies' hands. She wondered what she looked like to him. Wondering if it was a glorious sight to witness a new bride waltzing towards him. Or if it was one of dread, to be in holy matrimony with someone you've just met for the first time. She's still trying to decide between the two.

The ceremony was beautiful. A simply yet elegant affair, as two young royals wed. She knows that she is marrying the Prince of Wales, a worthy husband for any noble woman. Yet she can't help the dread that builds as the Archbishop drones on. The hymns falling deaf ears. She tries to pay attention, but she can’t, all she can hear is the drumming of her heartbeat. It pounds against her ribs, creating echoes in her head. Before she knows it, his hands reach for hers. There was no strength in his grip unlike beforehand, it was soft and gentle. As if she was a beautiful yet delicate doll, that she would completely shatter if he pressed just that bit too hard. Their fingertips locked; her skin fell into the ridges of his knuckles.

“I proclaim thee, y/n of Burgundy to be my lawfully wedded wife from now until the end of my days,” he hesitated. She could hear it in his voice. “She shall sit beside me as I rule the kingdom.” The ring passes down her skin, the metal biting at her finger.

She repeats him. “I proclaim thee, Thomas – Prince of Wales to be my lawfully wedded husband from now until the end of my days. I shall sit beside him as he rules this beautiful country.” She smiles at the end, though she never intends to. y/n thanks her ladies that they cover her grinning face behind the thick white lace of her veil.

The entirety of Westminster Abbey is silent, no one dares even breathe as Prince Thomas coils his fingers around the tipping of the lace. He lifts it over his now wife’s face. He taken aback slightly. The painter wasn’t paid enough, clearly. She was even more beautiful standing in front of him. The same clear complexion now glistening in the soft sunlight of England. He doesn’t pry of course; it would be rude of him. Just to stare at his bride, as if they were the only people in the hall. Good lord, does he wish it was.

His hands reach her cheeks. Tender once more, he brings her forward. She shifts on her feet as they meet. A quaint and soft kiss, unlike anything either of them has felt ever. He can’t remember the last time, it was this – well, gentle. Thomas doubts he has ever kissed a woman of such luxury in his entire life up to this point. y/n is the first to pull away, her fingers resting lightly on his raised wrists. Their eyes meet for a moment, a short moment.

Westminster Abbey erupts into celebration. Red rose petals fall from the ceiling and music begins to flood the area.

As she stared around, y/n began to think to herself. I do not know what will come out of this, but I already can see that joy my presence brings to these people. I shall not let them down.

Prince Thomas of England, Heir to The English Throne and y/n of Burgundy, Granddaughter of The French King had been wed. They were now locked in holy matrimony, a feeling unlike any other. Both horrendous and hospitable.

━━★✼☆｡

The Hall is a grand party. Laughing and singing is heard from every corner, mugs of beer and wine are flung across tables and scraps of food are being thrown to the dogs. y/n has never seen such a scene unfold. Too contained by the prudish French court. The most scandalous thing she has seen is a risqué dance meant to be for a married lover.

That is what she always despised about the French Nobility. Their secrets. Whispers and Rumours spread faster than fire. If you had committed some heinous act, the entirety of France will hear about it by the end of the week. Perhaps that is another reason why she felt so trapped in Burgundy. y/n could never do a single task on her own before her ladies’ loose tongue would find their way back to her mother. A delicate little flower, such a waste of potential.

Tom noticed her prodding, her fork twirling the few peas left on her plate. He hadn’t said a word to her all night and yet he looks at her if she’s unwillingly to speak. Does she know any basic English? Perhaps not.

“How are you liking the food,” Tom asked her, leaning into her. She smiled up at him, he spoke to her in French. It made her heart swell for a second. y/n turns to face him, smiling warmly. Tom wishes he could keep that smile forever.

“It’s is very well Your Grace,” y/n replies to him. Her flawless English rolling off her tongue with a petite French accent. It’s like heaven to his ears and he’s taken aback. “My Great Aunt was an English Countess, I loved her very much. I was fluent in English before I was 8.” She explained, almost as if she had read his mind.

“You need not call me Your Grace,” he teased, it was somewhat natural for him.

“Then what shall I call you?” y/n queered.

“I am your husband now, whatever pleases you pleases me,” Tom replied, turning back to his empty plate in an effort to hide the rising red flush on his face. y/n knew she should leave it at that, so she turned her attention elsewhere.

“Are royal weddings usually this,” she paused, “loud?”

Tom laughed quietly, he too turned to face the ruckus crowd. Men laying in the laps of maids, dogs feasting over food that had been flung across the floor. Loud chants to the beat of the music filled the hall. He would have been completely embarrassed by the state of his people in front of his new bride, if he hadn’t seen the amused look on her face. “Not usually, I have only been to one other wedding and that was extremely sombre.”

“How so?” she asked, sipping from the freshly poured wine.

“I went to my uncle’s wedding a few months ago. He had also married a noble woman like yourself, but the poor thing was only 11. My uncle was 35 and counting.” He wishes it was different but like all things in this world, he is powerless to the wills of those who think they are higher than others.

He peered at her; y/n was already looking at him. An eyebrow and a lip raised in disgust. It was quaint.

“I wish I could be more repulsed by that,” Tom wondered if she was joking or if she was serious. He couldn’t tell just by the use of her tone. He did however note her wit. Something he so longed for. They talked for hours, sitting by one another and discussing anything that arrived at the conversation. Tom can’t decide whether it’s her honey-like voice or her banter but it’s making him feel things no one should for someone they are being forced to wed.

Just while they are comparing the contrasting jousting techniques, the joyful music suddenly stops. It’s a quick snap and the entire hall is now dead quiet. The Earl of Salisbury mounts himself on one of the tables. His cheeks red with drunkenness.

The Earl points directly at y/n and Tom as they sit in confusion. “The final tradition, an honour for any noble man. The Great Bedding!”

y/n turns to Tom, clinging slightly to his sleeve. He takes immediate notice. “Thomas, what is The Great Bedding?” There was great concern in her voice as she watched all of the men rush towards them. He didn’t get to answer as the women abruptly hauled him out of his seat and down the hall, away from her.

y/n didn’t fear too well either. At least a dozen grimy hands placed themselves all over her body, pulling harshly as they brought her into the air. Dancing her down the halls. She constantly whacked their hands, to no avail of course. They only dropped her once they got to a dimly lit room.

It was already buzzing with people. Hustling around a single bed, covered by finely woven silk. The men dropped her gently, placing her feet against the ground. y/n tried to turn around to give them a piece of her mind but was stopped as her corset began to become loose around her waist. Incredibly uncomfortable, y/n looked up to distract herself in any regard and found Tom at the other side. The maid’s hands undoing every buckle of his coat, tiny fingers unthreading the lavish ropes across his body. y/n blushed at the sight.

Tom was trying his hardest not to look at her, not to stare as countless men of the court undressing her. He could hear the bulky wedding dress hit the floor of the room, he could feel her eyes on him, and he could see the variety of unknown nobles swarming them in any hopes to achieve the right to gossip tomorrow morning. It was despicable.

He climbed in first, the cotton of the blankets itching his skin as he settled. The only comfort he found was in the softness in his unkempt hair. Not restricted by the gel he was forced to wear.

y/n slowly followed his lead, it was dead silent. No one dared breathed as the new Princess of Wales found her spot next to The Prince. All the while, the exact same priest Archbishop chanted away, and priests flung holy water at the bed. Some of the liquid found itself on her skin. Finally, the crowd bowed to the couple and began to take their leave.

Tom watched in peace; he would be alone. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh, perhaps he would be able to get some well needed sleep. That seemed achievable until he felt a cold grasp around his wrist. His eyes shot open to find his father’s glare directly at him. “Don’t let the spring pass, I hope to see a grandson in the next few months,” The King spat.

It had been hours since the quarry of guests had left the room but the the monarch’s words etched themselves into his mind. Echoing nonstop, getting wilder as Tom felt y/n settle herself next to him. The mere presence of her alongside the duty he had to fulfil was too much for him. Tom shot up and quickly gathered his things, hauling his boots and clothes. He couldn’t be near her for another moment, too afraid of what he might do if she was subject to this sort of cruel punishment. Tom quickly decided he was sleep next door, just far away to have the thoughts no longer plague his mind but not too far that he would impose the wrong meaning on her. He reached for the door when she chimed in.

“Where are you going?”

He halted instantly. He wished that they could have gotten along like most royal couples should. A cold and initially distant meeting, then hopefully something would blossom over the years. Instead they had gotten along quite well, too well in fact. He was used to going slowly, taking his time in bedding a girl. A constant glaze over the court every few days, then promiscuous banter and in the span of months he would have her melt in his hand with a simple word. Now, he was feeling flustered and out of control and all of it was happening over a single night. Tom pressed his forehead against the wood, taking a deep breath. He turned to look at her, just like a painting coming to life. Her hair was down, unlike anything he had ever seen. Not grimed with sweat and dirt nor was it pinned underneath a headdress or away from her face. This time, the soft curls framed it. The nightgown clung to her shoulders; the fabric dangerously close to falling off. It made his life that much more difficult.

“I am sorry. You are a beautiful woman, but I just cannot fulfil the expectations that are placed upon me tonight. I will be sleeping in the room next door if you need me,” Tom blurted out. He waited for a response before he could speed out. She sat there, like a perfectly sculpted statue. It was torture.

y/n sighed, “nothing has to happen tonight.”

“But they will ask, they will pry like they always will,” he countered.

“Who says we have to tell the truth?” y/n giggled. God, it was a symphony to him. Tom watched her leave the bed, waltzing around to meet with him at the door. He wanted the tell her to stay exactly where she is, not to move even an inch closer but with ever step she took, his breath hitched higher in his throat. “I would prefer to spend the first night of my marriage with my husband, whether something happens or not.”

He swallowed thickly, “you are incredibly calm.” He now met her, his full attention on y/n as she chuckled in delight.

“I am filled to the brim with anxiety, just not that same fear that you are feeling,” she told him as she sat down the small longue in the middle of the room. She took the wine from the table and poured each of them a glass. Tom was hesitant at first, still wishing to flee the room and into the safety of his own solitary. Still, he found himself pacing towards her. Taking soft and flinching steps until he sat beside her.

“Then what is the fear?” He took the other glass, quickly chugging the alcohol. y/n said nothing but just stared at him in confusion. “The fear you feel, why?”

It was now her turn to become flustered. He looked genuinely curious as to why she was feeling doubtful, but she was unsure if he truly wanted to know the answer. Her father made her promise never to speak of it to anyone, a shameful secret that would ruin her future if it was released. But Tom was now her husband. They were bonded by law, a thought she really didn’t wish to dwell on. Surely, whatever she told him wouldn’t cause them any stress? Still, it would be rude of her not to tell him the reason after he had just clearly demonstrated his own fears in the commitment. “You must promise not to become angry.”

Tom nodded his head gently, even more intrigued then he was before.

y/n quietly exhaled, avoiding looking at Tom. “I was married once before, he passed from the sickness 3 months into our matrimony. Perhaps it was God way of guiding me to a better future, but it ruined almost everything. His death caused create strain for my family as they attempt to rebuild myself as if I was not capable of it myself. I am terrified that I am cursed, that I shall find myself falling in love with you only to be weeping over your coffin months later.” She had poured her soul out, shared such a personal section of her life. She was ashamed to see his face. Too afraid that pure anger and disgust would paint his face.

“Who was he? The man whom you had married?” Tom asked her again. His voice calling out as she stared directly at the purple velvet beneath her dress.

“The Prince of Spain,” y/n squeaked.

“That inbred!” Tom joked, suddenly becoming relaxed by the mere mention of the Spanish Royal Family. “I am surprised you got three months and not three days, that kid was on death doors for his entire life,” Tom was now in a fit of laughter. It wasn’t directed to her but more that they allowed such a beautiful woman to be the wife of such a dull man. y/n peered up, thoroughly embarrassed as she gave him a light whack. Tom finally came down from his laughing fit, staring directly at her. “You are cursed Princess; you are just coddled. Forced into a life clearly not meant for someone like yourself.”

The mere mention of the cradling of her life got y/n riled up, “that’s another thing! The Spanish constantly treated me as if I was some porcelain doll ready to shatter if they dared even look at me! I felt like a child trapped in a woman’s body and he touched me like that as well. God, I was finally ready to truly live my life and then he just was too soft, I wanted something much mor-” Oh. Oh God. She had run her mouth too far, dug her own grave with her rambling. Her hands clamped against her mouth as a heat rushed to her face. She could see the French ships arriving for her next month, giving her passage because she was not in pristine condition. Hopefully Tom didn’t pick up on what she was inferring.

“You aren’t a virgin?” his voice was quiet, almost dark. She felt her entire world shatter. Tom scooted towards her slowly, it was completely unnoticed. She was too deep in panic to recognise the growing flirt rising in the Prince of Wales. y/n shook her head feverously. “That little tick took you?” When he put it like that, it made her stomach tingle. She had never heard such a sentence used in that tone. She was drowning in thoughts.

“I didn’t know what I was doing, that’s why I was so unsatisfied,” she tried to explain, her hands now bunched up the fabric against her knees. “He was just so soft, too soft and I wished he would have-”

“Would have what?” he toyed. Tom doesn’t quite know why he was acting like this. So intent on prying her little secrets out of her. Usually, he would have just simply got straight to the point but now, seeing her become red with frustration was a view causing him great pleasure. Any abstinence he hoped to place upon himself earlier in the night had been thrown out the window. He finally felt back in control, something he longed for. Something she was serving to him on a silver platter.

“I..” she began but the words got caught in her throat. Her tongue stopped completely, almost refusing to finish the damning sentence. She wanted him to be rougher with her, she wanted him to treat her like a woman and not a girl. “What happen to you wishing to keep your hands to yourself?” She attempted to change the topic, trying to flee but to no avail as he quickly caught her wrist in his palms. Their skins igniting on sight.

“Don’t try to change the subject Princess,” he purred, standing up to meet with her at the side of the bed. Her title now held a completely different meaning, it wasn’t being used to describe her. It was being used to utterly destroy her; a nickname only meant to be whispered in the dim light of a dozen candles. “I can see right through you,” Tom’s calloused fingers met the loose fabric on her shoulders, dancing over her collarbone. It was soft but held meaning. “I can see that you wished he touched you differently. Touched you like a real woman, rougher and passionate.”

His words were damned. She should feel ashamed that she was feeling light-headed just by the grazing touch of his fingers above her perked breasts. “Yes,” it was the only thing she could get out. The only single three lettered word that allowed itself out of her mouth. Tom pressed his lips to her neck, underneath her jaw.

“Perhaps, he too was inexperienced.” He spoke through small pecks. “Allow me to show you something different, something better,” it was barely above a whisper, but y/n heard every word. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he peered at her.

“I would enjoy that very much,” y/n responded just as quiet, all the gentle touches he currently had placed upon her turned darker. He pulled her into his embrace quickly before tripping her feet from under her and ending atop her on the messily made bed. His hand instantly found the inside of her thigh, his finger bruising her skin. It was delightfully, the slight pain sending shivers down her spine.

Their lips met, gentle at first. Her hands moulding themselves against his jaw, moaning into his mouth as he pushed her deeper into the mattress. She wished she could stay like this forever, wrapping in Tom’s embrace as they mended together. Alas, he pulled away from her. Lips separating with a small pop and a soft whine from y/n underneath him. Tom took a distinct look at her; she was sprawled out and whimpering for something more. Did she give this look to him as well? Did she use the melody that was her voice to beg him to do anything? Tom didn’t particularly wish to replay the thought in his head but yet, he couldn’t help himself.

Her nightgown quickly found itself discarded; her nipples perked in the cold. His lips immediately latched on, massaging the soft tissue. He never knew something could feel this smooth, without any flaws or imperfections. Even though he knew he could spend an entire night between the valley of her tits, he too longed for something more.

In a matter of moments, he found himself staring directly at her sex. A glorious sight to behold, glistening with her arousal in the pale moonlight. She was practically dripping onto the sheets below her. He placed a soft kiss to her pelvis, she jumped at the contact. “If you feel uncomfortable, you need to tell me,” he told her all the while his fingers toyed at her hot hole. Dipping even so slightly into her heat. She was already in euphoria just from the slightest bit of pleasure. y/n nodded her head before locking eyes with him.

He didn’t waste another second, quickly licking a fat stripe through her folds. The taste was pure heaven, he didn’t give her a moment to register the feeling before diving right back into her juices. Sucking and pulling at her, wasting the night away feeling her thighs clamp around his head every time he flicked her clit coupled with a singular finger prancing in and out of her.

y/n wasn’t quite sure how loud she could truly be. She knew that even though they were in the far south-east of the castle, there could be a dozen scullery maids listening right outside the door. Or if someone was trying to achieve some sleep right beside them. At this very moment though, with Tom’s head in between her thighs devouring every inch of her throbbing cunt, she couldn’t give a single fuck. y/n allowed the string of curses and praised to tumble from her lips as she clasped onto the bed sheets for dear life.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Tom remarked, releasing her for a few seconds, “for such a pretty and delicious pussy.” He chuckled darkly. y/n wanted to bite back at him, but she was cut short but the addition of another of his digits sliding into her tight entrance. y/n clasped down hard on her hand. A foreign feeling began to drive itself into her stomach. While unusual, it was not at all exotic to her. It was thrilling, feeling her walls contract around his fingers as y/n began to instinctively rock her hips against his digits.

“God,” he purred, “that’s it, make yourself cum on my fingers Princess. Let me see that gorgeous face while you do it.” Tom had now retracted his mouth from her, completely mesmerised by the way her eyes screwed shut as she reached her peak. A cacophony of beautiful and dazzling sounds stumbling out of her mouth as he felt her climax all over his hand. Such a tantalising sight for any man.

y/n was too deep in her own return that she didn’t notice the retraction of his presences from the middle of her legs. So, when he felt his hands roughly pull her to the edge of the bed, she almost choked. The exhilarating feeling of his strained cock rubbing against her drenched folds made her forget her place. Made her speak before her mind could catch up. “I want you to fulfil the expectation.” She told him, her eyes never wavering from him.

Tom halted all his movements. It was painful but he needed absolute clarity before he did anything without her reassurance. “You need to elaborate Princess,” he told her darkly. He knew exactly what she was asking of him, he knew exactly what she desired.

“I want you to come inside of me,” she spoke as if she was a different person. y/n doesn’t quite know whether it’s the shift of mood or her own personal feelings but either way, she wanted to feel their juices mix and then leak out of her. Wanted him to fill her right up to the brim until the possibility was certain.

“You want me to fuck my seed right into you?” his words were dirtier than she expected but so was he as he slid in and into her. His naval hitting hers with a loud smack. He refused to move until he had played with her just that tad bit more. y/n’s head thrashed into the sheets behind her. She was so full, never has she felt this complete in her entire life. He wasn’t even moving but she could feel every inch of him deep inside of her.

“God yes,” she whimpered. “I need it so bad,” she was going to drive Tom insane. Just by a simple sentence, he was going to lose his mind and cum right now without even doing anything. 

“Want to carry my child, our own Prince or Princess,” he pulled back out of her and slammed right back in, knocking the wind out of her y/n. It was so profoundly dirty, just discussing it. It thrilled her to the very core, child-bearing was meant for women not girls. Perhaps that is why she is so drawn to the talk, the talk of something so primally feminine set her entire body on fire. She couldn’t speak a coherent sentence instead she just let out a continuous plea.

He began slow, hips rocking to find that perfect beat. He revelled in the only sounds in the room, the sound of his cock hitting the divine spot inside of her over and over again and her delirious moaning. It was a symphony he was lucky enough to hear. He wanted to hear more, listen to the pure sounds of him railing into her. So, he picked up the pace. His thrust became not only deep and harsh but fast.

God, if he could immortalise this feeling he would. The feeling of her walls constricting around him as he pounds right into her, the feeling of her legs wrapping around his constantly thrusting hips and the feeling of her sweating skin underneath his fingers as he grips for support. It’s like the Lord himself made her tight little cunt just for him.

“You’re so big,” y/n praised mindlessly. He’s never had someone say that to him without it sounding forced. It’s so raw that he can’t help but go even harder into with each praise that falls off her lips. “Fill me up, I want to feel you all inside of me.” It’s a dangerous game, she’s tapped on something so feral inside of him it hurts.

y/n wants to prop herself up and explore his body while he pounds into her, but she simply can’t. Her limbs give out with every thrust. Her entire body spasms each time he hits the perfect spot inside of her. She a moaning mess, trying to maintain any sense of normality but failing miserably. It’s a constant state of pleasure, she’s afraid that she’s lost track of time. That is until the faint, but all the desirable fit finds itself lit in the pit of her stomach.

“I’m almost there,” she whispers, it’s the only thing she can get out. His thrusts, that once had gained a steady and harsh rhythm are now falling. He’s losing focus with each grip he receives. With her words though, he gives her the final stretch. No longer does he has some form of structure but instead he’s just railing her like a wild animal.

It’s an explosion and neither knows why but it’s addictive. y/n climaxes around him, her toes curling as her final orgasm hits her long and violent. Shaking underneath, him as she unknowingly milks his own finish out of him. Tom’s fucking his cum right into her, he doesn’t stop for a second. Too focused on the goal ahead of him. Placing it where it counts. It’s a feeling he wants to never forget, better yet it’s a sight he wants permanently etched into his memories. As he pulls out of her, their climaxes tumble out of her. Dripping down her leg.

“Hold your legs up Princess,” he teases as he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I heard it works wonders.”

The rose blooms only for those who care properly for her.

━━★✼☆｡

a/n: please don’t flop, omg this is so long and no one asked for this shit. please don’t flop chile 🤡

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