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jester-lover · 8 months

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Hi! How are you doing?

May I please request fem!reader having a 'Cinderella fairytale moment' with the first years?

You know like NRC is hosting a ball and they're waiting for her and then she enters wearing a ballgown and all eyes are on her because she looks so beautiful? If that's alright?

Magic Moment

W/ the First Years! + PLATONIC! Trein (I had to for this ask)

I’m doing wonderfully, thank you for asking! This ask is super cute and I’d happily answer more like it!

CW/ Fem! Reader, fluff, shyness, nervousness, average Sebek behavior (he’s my favorite), MR. TREIN BEING A BETTER ADOPTIVE FATHER THAN CROWLEY, I tried to leave the dress details vague, but the general ballgown shape is mentioned

The bustling sounds of the Ball were ringing through your ears as you slowly walked through the hall into the ballroom, your wide ball flowing behind you. Grim had already shot past and went straight for the buffet, which was expected but did nothing to stop your nervous mind.

Suddenly you felt a comforting presence beside you, and you turned around to see Professor Trein, wearing robes with a bit more formal flair.

"I can assure you that they won’t bite; those boys are rambunctious, but they have a certain level of decorum."

He had a rather comforting smile on his face, which you mirrored as a surge of confidence went through you.

"Thank you, Professor."

He nodded slightly as you turned on a heel, holding your head up higher with a small smile on your face.

The great doors opened with a small creek as you stepped onto the main staircase, the bustling crowd flitting throughout the ballroom as you stood at the helm of the stairs.

All eyes were on you, and the crowd seemed to shush a little as you glided down the stairs. The flowing dress made you seem like you were floating. As you stepped onto the main floor, the sensations hit slowly; the sweet smells of the chocolate fountain and the gentle viola and cello melodies set a soft mood.

However, all of the decadence was put to shame when you saw a familiar face waiting for you.

Ace

He had to cram himself through a crowd of eager boys, all wanting what he did, the first dance of the night with you

Ace’s usual smug grin feels a little shaky, just like his hands as they grasp onto yours

“You wouldn’t mind if we danced, would you?”

His voice is almost nervous as he takes in the sight of you, your beauty and how lucky he is to call himself yours

he guides you to the center of the ballroom, as the lights dim slightly and the music becomes romantically fast paced and delicate

His hands clasp at your waist gently as the two of you begin stepping in matching order

Your gorgeous dress flutters on the ballroom floor as Ace twirls you to the music

After the two of you danced till your legs were sore, you wander off by the gardens

“I feel like I’ve been a little quiet tonight, don’t get too used to it, okay?”

Ace’s usual quips become a little gentler, you can tell he really wants you to have a nice time, and also because he wants you to think well enough of him to spend more time together

He’ll take any chance he gets to prove himself to you

The night ends with a kiss on the cheek as his face turns redder than his hair

Deuce

Through the bustling ballroom, Deuce used all his track skills to get to you as fast as he could before someone else could woo you away

“P-please let me have a dance with you!”

You guide him to the dance floor as the music gets slow and soft, his hands still against your waist as his heart beats normally again

This sweet boy is trying desperately to remain respectful in front of a lady, especially one as special as you

as the two of you twirl through the night, his gaze never left yours, you felt yourself fall deeper in love with the boy in front of you

Deuce guides you off to get some light refreshments when the two of you seem tuckered out, and the two of you exchange pleasantries as the party dissipated

He walked you home after the Ball, dutifully watching for anything that could cause you harm until you stepped onto the Ramshackle grounds

You kiss him on the cheek and wish him farewell, as you walk back into your dorm to a chorus of cheering ghosts

"....A kiss...? Wow...."

Epel

Epel’s eyes met yours as fireworks seemingly erupt in his head

he rushed (undignified in Vil’s opinion) to you and softly grasped your gloved hand between two of his own

He presses a kiss to your glove as he confidently raises his voice

“Can I dance with you? I’ll be a good partner!”

(You swear you can see steam come out of Vil's ears at his abrupt question)

as Epel dances with you, he makes sure to keep the mood light and fun with a couple jokes and jabs at the professors expenses

his movements are quick as he guides the dance, but he makes sure to keep at a similar tempo to you so you don't look strange

the two of you are definitely the 'it couple' at the Ball, with your looks and attire

Epel gets bored of the attention quite quickly, and the two of you end the night somewhere quieter, like the calm balcony of the ballroom

he tells you stories of the perilous prep Vil and Rook made him do before the dancing, how hard it was to learn the old style of waltz they preferred

"It was horrible, but I guess it was all worth it, seeing how much fun you had and everything..."

The two of you part ways when Vil sweeps him away for pictures, but he promises to dance with you again when the chance arrives

Jack

His breath hitches in his throat as he sees you, his pace quick as he walks up to you with a mildly dazed expression

“Um, could I dance with you? If it’s alright with you of course…”

As the music softens, Jack becomes painfully aware of how soft and beautiful you are, and decides to treat you like a piece of glass

his hands hover, and his red face is tucked into your shoulder as the slow dancing begins

the closeness between the two of you is tender and kind, and he eventually loosens up a little as the pace of the cello gets steadily quicker

Jack's radiant smile as the two of you dance together is so perfectly domestic, you begin to ignore everything else

the two of you focus on only one another, and he loves hearing your soft laughter as he spins you in the air

since our wolf is one strong boy, he'll adore spinning and lifting you in your long luscious ballgown

"Hold on to my shoulders, I'll lift you up."

the night ends with him escorting you back to Ramshackle, his hand in yours as he grows more comfortable with physical affection

however, when you press a kiss to his cheek, Jack flusters again and rubs the back of his neck

"You look really beautiful tonight, and I had a really nice time dancing with you."

Sebek

A startled gasp catches in Sebek’s throat as Lilia pushes him to the front of the crowd and presents him to you

“Human! May I please have the honor of being your first dance partner tonight?”

the music is a lively tempo, Sebek looks straight ahead with perfect posture, dancing as if it means life or death

His serious demeanor is a little funny at first, but breaks pretty easily when he realizes how romantic the moment is

He calms down and acts more down to earth for the rest of the night, something that is truly a rare sight

His grip on your waist loosens a little bit as he hears the music slowly descend into a lower volume

Sebek sighs a little as he checks the time, knowing that the two of you have been dancing for hours

he strongly suggests that the two of you spend some time away from the commotion of the party (ironic coming from the loudest thing in the room)

You two spend an hour walking through the ornate halls of the ballroom, with him excitedly boasting about how the ballrooms in the Valley of Thorns far exceed the one you're in

"Perhaps, I may accompany you to the next big occasion..."

Sebek walks you back home slowly, trying to preserve some sweet time with you until you must part for the night

As you step onto the stairs to bid him farewell, you press a kiss onto his cheek, and he blushes a stark red; his mouth opens to speak but no words come out

for once in his life, Sebek is completely speechless.

☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾☁️☾

The cool night air that filters through the cracked windows of Ramshackle house serves to calm you down after a long night of dancing and socializing. You laid on the dusty couch, still clad in your oversized ballgown, sparkling in the dim candlelight.

Grim was asleep beside you, his warm fluffy fur pressed against your arm, and his gentle purring made your painted eyelids flutter with tiredness.

You thought back at the unforgettable night, dancing in his arms was a memory to cherish forever.

As you shook your arm to try and remove Grim, you realized he wouldn't budge, succumbing to your fate, you smiled and closed your eyes.

A wonderful ending to a wonderful night.

a.n/ Prof. Trein would be such a great father figure.

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undertheorangetree · 9 months

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Pomegranate Seeds

Summary- A retelling of the abduction of Persephone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Hades and Persephone AU. Star-crossed lovers vibes. Uncle/niece incest. Making out. Angst. Fluff. Titty sucking. Handjob. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Soft smut. Mild praise kink. Mildly OOC Aemond.

Author's Notes- Yeah I was a Percy Jackson/Greek mythology kid, thank you for noticing. I'm still playing incredibly fast and loose with the mythology tho so we're gonna have to make our peace with that. This is a beast btw, it's like 9.6K and you can find the rest on AO3 with the link below :)

divider created by @firefly-graphics

It is moments like these, she thinks, that she loves most.

Alone in the meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, the babbling of the creek as it flows over the rocks. Everything green with the exception of the purple, white, and yellow flowerheads but lush and everbearing and alive, the sun little more than a hazy warm glow, not yet hot enough to be overbearing. It is peaceful here, so much more than she is used to. She had come to an agreement with her step sisters, Baela and Rhaena, that they allow her a few hours on her own in this meadow, undisturbed by anyone else. Though her mother much preferred to that she remain alongside her sisters whenever she is out of sight, she, Baela, and Rhaena had come to an agreement that what her mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. And besides, they were never too far away from her. Being water nymphs, they could be by her side in less than a moment if she really needed them, so long as she doe does not stray too far from the river. And she has never been more grateful for it than she is right now.

Stretching her arms high above her head, she stretches out along the grass, enjoying the feeling of every blade of grass, the sweet smell of the blooms wafting on the breeze. Admittedly, this meadow had not been quite so plentiful when they had found it, following along the winding river, but she is the goddess of spring. Flowers bloom at her word and sun shines with her will. It had not been too difficult to turn this meadow into her own personal paradise, away from the chaos often wrought by her mother and brothers and stepfather.

There is a sudden change in the wind that causes her to sit up. Colder than it had been before, something more akin to winter than spring. The ground seems to rumble beneath her, shaking as if the sudden cold has sent it to shiver. Curiously, she turns her head toward the tree line, where the birches and willows keep the meadow shielded from view, only to find a man standing among them. Dressed in all black- breeches, cloak, and the shred of his tunic she can see beneath it- his platinum hair is almost jarring in contrast. He is not a big man, long and lithe, but there is an air to him that feels dangerous, dangerous enough to give her pause. He has not noticed her yet, face turned away, but she can see the long, stern plains of his face from where she sits, looking incredibly serious. That seriousness is only exacerbated by the dark leather eyepatch covering the eye closest to her, a deep red scar carved beneath it.

She does not think she has ever seen anyone here before, not outside of Baela, Rhaena, and herself, and his presence here is almost incongruous. Still, there is an air about him, one that makes it clear that he is a god just as she is, and that alone should make his surprise appearance less shocking.

“Hello.”

The sound of her voice seems to catch him off guard. Quickly, he turns toward her, shoulders tense, but they relax when he takes her in. She cannot imagine that she is intimidating, sitting flat in the grass all alone. “Hello.”

But it is that reminder of the grass that brings her pause. What is this man doing here? Where had he come from? It is not as if this meadow is easy to find, hidden amongst the trees as it is. She feels her brows furrow, head cocking in question. “How did you find this place?”

She had not put a glamour over this meadow, but she did not feel she had too. The forest, though light and airy, was a labyrinth of trees that seemed deterrent enough to keep any unwanted guests away. They were incredibly difficult to find your way through and she had been convinced it would be impossible to try- for God or mortal.

Near impossible, it seemed then.

His eye darts back to the treeline, taking half a step back. “If I am intruding, I can leave.”

“No.” She says it far too quickly and she can see the way his eyebrows raise in response to it, but she can’t find it in her to be ashamed. She is intrigued by this man, more so than she likely should be, and finds she wants to know more. To learn how he came to find this place. “Just because this place is unknown does not mean it is mine alone. You may stay. Beauty like this should be enjoyed.”

“Wise words,” he agrees, coming toward her. He hesitates at the end, torn on whether or not to truly join her, but it seems courtesy wins out as he lowers himself to the ground, joining her amongst the flowers. He looks entirely out of place, black against the blooms, but she says nothing, keeping her observation to herself.

They sit in absolute silence but she does not mind. He sits stiffly, as if uncomfortable, while she continues to take in all that is around her. From here, she can see the way the willows sway with the wind, the white puffy clouds floating by in the soft blue sky.

“I did not mean to,” he says. She looks at him, head tilted once again. “To find this place. It was not my intention. Though I admit I have never seen anything quite like it.”

She smiles, though he could not possibly know that he had complimented her. “It is a rare thing.”

“It feels almost as if it were from a painting,” he adds, looking around the meadow to take it in further.

She joins him in it, finding no shame in admiring her own work. It is a pretty place, though that had always been her intention. Olympus was beautiful in and of itself, but it was stark in that way. Ethereal and otherworldly, but cosmopolitan. Bright white marble, painted statues, stained glass. Everything beautiful, to be sure, but not in the untamed way that she seemed to crave. She preferred the beauty that was found in nature, in heavy branches filled with green leaves, tall grasses and wildflowers and crystalline waters.

“Do you know much about art?” she asks to fill the silence.

He seems caught off guard again from her question, but answers it anyway. “Not as much as I would like, but I can appreciate the beauty in something as well as any man. Though do not tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation.”

She laughs. “You needn’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Which periods do you prefer?”

They talk for hours, the conversation unfurling as naturally as a bird’s wing. Art, history, philosophy. There is no subject they do not indulge in. He becomes less awkward with time as he grows more comfortable around her and she almost pulls a laugh from him not once, but twice. It seems quite the feat, for a man as serious as this one seems to be, though she does not let her pride get the better of her. When she asks him how she managed to find her well kept secret, he had simply said that one always finds the best things when you are not looking for them. A non answer, but that was alright. She was sure she could coax the answer from him eventually.

“Forgive me, I never asked you your name,” she says after what must have been hours, half appalled by her lack of manners.

He does not seem to mind, a good natured half smile making its way onto his face. “My friends call me Aemond. You may as well.”

It is not uncommon, for Gods to prefer more earthly names. She is often the same. There is power within a name and for such an innocent encounter, she does not feel the need to have him call her Persephone or Kore or any of those that strike some rumination of power and fear. So she gives him her common name, the one she feels is more true to who she is, and he smiles in response to it, repeating it back to her as if to test it. She likes the way it sounds when he says it, the way each letter seems to roll off him tongue, and somehow hearing him say the word alone is enough to make her flush.

She turns her head to hide it and only then notices that the sun has dipped below the trees, leaving the sky a hazy orange. Her mother will be expecting her home soon and there is no telling how poorly she will react if Rhaena and Baela return home without her. She doesn’t doubt that Rhaenyra will send her great serpent Syrax after her should she be even a moment late.

“I have to go,” she says, unable to keep the apologetic tone from her voice.

Reluctantly, she stands, brushing the dirt from her skirts. His lips had parted at her announcement, but now he ducks his head in an understanding nod. She smiles at him, not truly wanting to go yet, and makes her way toward the creek to call upon her sisters to come and fetch her. She does not make it two steps before he is calling after her.

“Can I see you again?”

She turns back to look at him. The insecurity on his face does not seem to match his features, looking almost out of place there. Still, she finds it entirely endearing and she realizes that she would absolutely like to see him again.

“Yes,” she agrees softly.

“Tomorrow?”

She does not bother to fight the smile itching its way onto her face. “Yes.”

He matches her smile then before standing. He comes forward and takes her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there. “Then I shall see you on the morrow, my lady.”

She can do nothing but hope he does not notice how hot her face has become.

“On the morrow.”

Read the rest here

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon

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riverwindphotography · 1 year

Photo

Glowing Flows at Deer Creek

#riverwind gifs #winter #mountain stream #sunlight #nature

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vyglitchcraft · 7 months

Note

Please write a scenario where Smoke(MK1) sneaks into the reader's room at night to express his hidden love for them?

Smoke Flows Through The Gaps

MK1 Tomas "Smoke" Vrbada x Gen!Reader

Content: Smoke breaks into the reader's room, questionable activities, SFW, reader is asleep for most of the fic, short fic/scenario, Smoke can turn into smoke like in MK Annihilation

Plot: Tomas decides to express his love in a...questionable way

"Finally, done" you rolled up a scroll and placed it into one of the racks. Stretching your arms up, you heard your back crackling after sitting down for hours. "That should be all for now, i think" you kicked your floor mattress to unfold it and flatten it down so you could actually lay down on it.

Pulling your blanket up, you blow the candles out and slowly drift to sleep.

As you fell unconscious, the door to your room slides open, slowly, carefully. Smoke slowly passing through the gaps and going inside of your bedroom. Tomas plants his feet onto the ground causing one of the old floorboards to creek. He silently cringes at the sound, he doesn't want to wake you up.

Looking down at your sleeping silhouette, Tomas sighs and sits down next to you. He watched your breath become visible as it came in contact with the cold air. With gentle hands, he pushed your hair away from your face just so he could admire you even more. He's been away for weeks by now, only coming back earlier that night. He hadn't even eaten dinner yet or taken a bath, first thing he did when he came home was to see you.

Tomas laid down on the floor next to the mattress, his hands hovered right above your waist but he quickly pulled away knowing it could wake you up. "You're so cold...if only i could warm you up" he whispered to himself. Moving closer slowly, he pressed his forehead onto your shoulder. "I missed you, did you miss me too?" Your body didn't seem to react to him or his presence at all. Seeing this, he went ahead and hugged you, not tightly but just enough to feel your warmth.

"Did you eat today? What did you do before bed? Have you been studying or training? I wish i could ask you those things" Tomas sighed. "You know i never liked those nicknames you gave to me, especially when the others started to use it...but i like it when you call me those things" he pulled himself closer.

"You know, i always imagined that someday in the future, you would take my last name, we would visit my country, explore the world...will i survive long enough to see that future?" He went silent momentarily, his voice still low. "After all, my brothers and i...we keep fighting, what if one day i did not come back? Will you miss me then? Or would you move on quickly?" Tomas shook his head. "Nevermind..." He pulls away "i should head to sleep"

Taking a long look at you for the last time tonight before he stood up slowly "i...love you" went back into his smoke form, flowing out of your room as easily as he entered it.

#mk smoke #smoke x reader #smoke mk #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1

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pixelmensupremacy · 1 year

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Hideaway

A/N: Told you I had something prepared for the remake.

Word count: 3.9k

WARNINGS: Fem!reader, fluff, frottage, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cream pie

Countless raindrops landed on the roof and windows of the small cabin, creating for a somnolent ambience; endless flow of rain water- akin to a lively creek- flowed down the dust-stained glass washing off all of the buildup debris in the process. The not-so-distant echo of thunder rumbled through the ground, reminding of the dangerous presence that surrounded the small space; darkness had swallowed the light of day as the night had rolled around the corner and casted shadows upon the chill inducing grounds of the village and its outskirts.

Inside the miniature house the two agents were isolated from the danger of their hostile surroundings, oblivious to all that is awaiting them as they had given in to sweet slumber. For good or for bad that short lived moment of peace came to an end for (Y/N) as a wave of cool air brushed against her back, forcing her to stir awake. Standing up in the bed, she was suddenly reminded of the events leading up to this very moment; Leon’s horrific screams of pain echoed in her mind as she looked at him now laying, still asleep. Examining him with a quick glance, she noticed the unnatural, deep crimson coloring of his veins had completely disappeared; gently touching his forehead, she noted that his fever had also seemed to have gone away. Shivers ran down her spine as the cool breeze seeped through the cracks of the roof, yet they weren’t’ caused by just the cool temperature; the mysterious stroke her partner had experienced not so long ago had her question the unthinkable.

Brushing away any thought of the worst-case scenarios, she stood up from the bed and (Y/N) headed towards the woodstove; she frowned as she noticed the fire had burnt out. Luckily for her, amongst the ashes there was a good quantity of embers that would be more than enough to rekindle the flames. A content smile curled the corners of her lips once she felt the pleasant warmth caressed her cheeks; gradually, the temperature of the room rose. She glanced at Leon’s direction, only to notice his still sleeping form; she yawned as the sudden urge to join him aroused withing her. For a few moments she contemplated on taking turn to watch out for any hostile locals but she was quick to change her mind, for no one had found them up until now and she couldn’t help but feel sleepy just at the sight of her partner snuggled so comfy in the disgusting excuse of a bed. So, she laid back next to him careful not to wake him up; immediately, she was met with the heat that radiated from his body, luring her in. She rested her cheek against his shoulder blade and lazily wrapped her arm around his torso; mindlessly, she traced circles and other shapes on his torso.

It wasn’t long before the relaxation eased her muscles and her eyelids felt heavier and heavier with each passing second, though before she could fall asleep, she felt Leon move. Turning over on his other side, he was now facing her, his eyes were still tightly shut; his strong arms wrapped around her form, trapping her in a pleasantly warm, comforting embrace, his chin rested atop her head, pressing her ear against his chest. His heartbeat echoed in her ears in a consistent rhythm that just aided in her inevitable relaxation and his gentle touch on her tensed body lulled her into a state of utter tranquility, only for his raspy voice to abruptly anchor her attention.

“Morning, sunshine.” The words rumbled against her earlobe. His eye fluttered open and immediately searched for (Y/N) that almost disappeared in in his tight grip. “For how long have I’ve been knocked out?” He lazily rubbed his eyes, whilst his other hand still held onto her; she pulled slightly away so she could look at him. He looked just as perfect as usual though there was a hint of normalcy in him; his hair was a tad bit messy, the golden strands of hair fell in his eyes and nose in almost a casual manner. It was untypical look to their work environment, yet it seemed natural, domestic even and the more (Y/N) gazed at him the more she got used to it.

“A few hours maybe.” Her answer was sincere, for she too had lost track of time. His bare forearm covered his sleepy eyes, a heavy sigh escaped past his lips. “Though it will be great if we get moving now that you’re up.” She urged as the thought of their assignment reemerged in her mind and a sudden wave of anxious thoughts washed over her once again; though he only hummed and wrapped her, tightening his grip on her, with his nose- buried in her hair- he took a deep breath in, completely disregarding her demand.

“Just five more minutes.” He snuggled into her side so she was trapped in his suffocating embrace.

“Leon,” She giggled as a few strands of his hair tickled her neck. “We really can’t afford to lose any time. Every second counts.” She struggled to pull away; his glossy, baby blue eyes bore into her, his plump lips puckered out in a pout. She couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous he looked, silently complaining akin to a needy baby- it was almost adorable.

“You can’t expect me to want to leave right after I woke up and especially when I get to wake up to that pretty face of yours. I swear first you got under my skin, then my bed. What’s next my pants?” His husky voice was calm and serious, causing a rush of blood to travel up her cheeks. Despite knowing Leon, his cheesy- cocky even- comments had undoubted impact on her that she did poor job in masking. And he was aware of that.

“First of all, that’s not your bed and you should actually thank me for getting your heavy ass over here! Second of all it’s not my fault you can’t focus on our mission, which by the way we have to get done unless we want to lose our jobs.” She murmured but her voice was muffled by his suffocating embrace, yet that didn’t stop her from trying; baffled by her persistence, Leon couldn’t hold back a giggle as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, immediately silencing her just as abruptly as the remark that caused her heated rant this time successfully putting an end to her murmuring. Hesitantly at first, she reciprocated, her fingers clung to his messy locks as she gave in to his irresistible charm; her legs tangled in his, where her pelvic bone rubbed against his firm, muscular thigh. A breathy moan escaped past her lips once he pulled away, his celestine irises bore into her (E/C) ones; the intensity of his gaze alone was enough to send electric shockwaves to where her sensitive core was flush against his thigh.

Hungrily, her lips searched his as her hand gradually slithered down between his shoulder blades, where she would graze his still clothed back with the tips of her nails all the while her other hand tugged at his hair, coaxing a whimper that resonated against her lips. Her mouth fell open once his hands roughly groped her ass, unintentionally allowing him access inside; the whimper that got stuck in her throat got muffled by Leon’s vigorous tongue exploring her hot mouth. It wasn’t long before (Y/N) felt breathless; her nails dug into his scalp and her muffled moans turned into whines of desperation. She gasped for air, yet her grip on his hair didn’t allow him to pull too far away for her liking; glistening string of their mixed saliva connected their plump lips, heat radiated from both of them, driven by the burning flame that was their desire for one another.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, Kennedy.” She panted out, her lips barely brushing his as the distance between them stayed ever so microscopical. In response, he only let out a breathy chuckle before his strong arms caught her hips and brought her atop of him. She yelped as she suddenly found herself straddling his hips and she sensed undoubted feeling of something poking at her inner thigh; a rush of boiling blood rose up to her cheeks. Her arms reached for the headboard, holding on the wood as she balanced her weight above him; her gaze unintentionally met with his lustful one. The gorgeous blue of his irises was almost evaporated, eaten away by the gaping raven of his pupils that threatened to swallow her whole.

“You look even prettier from this angle.” She whimpered under the impact of his hands spreading out her ass cheeks only for his fingers to trace the spot of her damp pants and the rumble of his voice resonating so close to her ear only aided in further ruining her already soaked panties. Slowly, his hands slid up her waist, where they toyed with the hem of her shirt just barely brushing the heated skin underneath the fabric; she did the same to his skin tight turtleneck she secretly came to love, especially now that he was robbed of the gorgeous, earthy colored leather jacket. Shivers ran down her spine as the air caressed her exposed skin; the scarce light that lit the room illuminated her skin, adding a mystifying glow to her already flawless form. Leon felt the pressure in his pants growing by the second as the sight of (Y/N), straddling his hips had him light headed; if it wasn’t for her slight movements atop him that made his cock throb, he would’ve though he was still asleep, caught in a blissful fantasy he would never want to wake up from.

Leisurely, her fingers slipped underneath the dark gray fabric of his shirt, slowly pulling it up all the while she made sure to touch and caress every inch of his skin. Underneath her, Leon fought the urge to let out a moan, caused by the attention she showered his body with in every aspect possible; her lips peppered the outline of his pecs with delicate kisses, trailing up to the base of his neck, where she darted her tongue all the way up to his earlobe before she planted a single, feather light kiss to his earlobe, whilst her hips steadily rutted against his hardened cock, causing her soft moans to tingle his sensitive ear. His grip on her hips was ever so tight, contemplating on whether to stop her from getting him closer to his peak embarrassingly soon or to give in to the pleasure that had them forget about all of their problems. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he surrendered to the sensation and let it fully consume him. Entranced by her intoxicating aura and her enchanting touch, Leon let her take off his turtle neck and even aided her in doing so, though the exquisite sight of his marvelously carved chest was far from enough for her; eagerly, she tugged at the band of his pants then her fingers went for the buckle of his belt. Before she could slip her hand underneath the thin fabric of his boxers, a sudden force stopped her.

“You aren’t playing fair, sweetheart.” The smugness in his expression was renewed, cockier than ever as his calloused finger pads brushed the warm skin underneath her shirt; an audible exhaled escaped past her gritted teeth as she quickly got rid of the piece of clothing, leaving just her bra. A new spark of lust was set ablaze in the baby blue of his irises at the sight of her luscious form, finally freed from the vexatious clothes that hid her full glory. Leon felt weak at the face of the sudden, strong urge to trace the outlines of her delicate silhouette and shower her with his attention much like how she did with him but in bigger, grander scale. Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around her back, caressing her bare skin all the while he pulled her flush to his own; their breaths collided into a hot tornado of unspoken emotions and desires, their eyes- drawn by an otherworldly force- locked together in an intense stare. Once again, their faces were just a mere inches away from one another, the closeness of the interaction- silent- caused their hearts to dance in delight.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay here for five more minutes?” He joked, yet the need in his eyes revealed the core of his question.

“Five minutes.” (Y/N) breathed out, the words caressed his needy lips; her eyelashes fluttered closed as she let her desires take control and disregard any rational thoughts that refused to leave her mind. As darkness engulfed her vision, she felt Leon’s presence flooding her senses with intense- almost unbearable- pleasure and she enjoyed every second of it. The feeling of his velvety lips caressing her skin and his hands wandering across her exposed flesh had put her in a drunken state, where her world revolved around him and how good he made her feel; it was what she could only describe as heaven on earth. Her head rolled back, allowing for his little venture to expand all the way to the valley of her breasts, where his hot tongue would circle around the hardened buds. A hum resonated in her ribcage, akin to a purr that only encouraged Leon to take things further; he sucked on her nipple, nibbling it all the while his fingers took care of her other one. Her fingers tangled in his golden locks, yet she didn’t dare pulling on his hair, in fear he would retrieve and deprive her of the sensation of his heavenly mouth on her.

Slowly, his other hand made its way to her pelvis; bumps covered her body as excitement rushed in her bloodstream. A breathy gasp left her agape mouth as she felt Leon’s hand, palming her aching pussy; she bit her lip in a failed attempt to hold back a moan at the sensation of his leather fingerless glove rubbing against her twitching folds. He pulled away from her chest to glance at her; her eyes were still tightly shut and her bottom lips was caught between her teeth, her eyebrows were furrowed together in a frown that Leon couldn’t quite interpretate but the wetness that dripped on his palm was enough of an indicator as to how she felt.

“Hey, are you feeling good?” The familiarity of his voice, along with the hand the wrapped around her throat, anchored her back to the present moment; his lips gently pressed against her temple, whilst his fingers teasingly toyed at her entrance. She nodded yes in an eager manner, which in return caused him to chuckle. “Speak up, baby. Let me know how I make you feel.” His voice soft and calm had her weak in the knees, whilst his cautions grip on her neck made her lightheaded; peeling her eyes open, she was met with the slight smile that curled the corners of his lips and the comforting, reassuring look of his baby blue eyes.

“Please, Leon..” She trailed off, a whine got stuck in her throat as she felt his finger pad just barely brushing against her bundle of nerves. “Please keep going.” She looked at him, her needy eyes locked with his lustful ones, her hands moved to his forehands, where she squeezed at the tensed muscles; he struck her with what had to be one of the most charming smiles she had ever seen, followed by a wink that had her heart skip a beat. She let out a breathy moan; her muscles tensed and her grip on his arms tightened, in fear she would lose her balance. A teasing finger pushed inside her fluttering folds, causing her nerves to tingle but not enough to relieve her of the buildup tension. A hum resonated near Leon’s ear as he started pumping his digit in a back-and-forth motion, maintaining a slow and steady pace; he kept toying with her drenched hole all the while his other hand slithered down her throat and chest, where he squeezed at the soft flesh of her breasts. (Y/N)’s body trembled and her hips began rocking, desperately fucking herself on his finger as the friction- or rather lack thereof- drove her crazy. Yet before she could even grasp the delightful sensation she was so deeply desiring, it disappeared altogether. She whined; her needy gaze locked on his smug expression that made her blood boil.

“Leon.” She moaned out his name, her head slightly tilted to one side and her gaping pupils bore into him; guilt and sympathy ate at his heart at the sight of her so riled up and messy- his favorite look on her. He brought his index finger to her lips, coating her bottom lip with her arousal, shushing her wordless pleads. Her curious gaze reluctantly darted at him, immediately noting the smirk on his face that told her everything. She took his digit in her mouth, her tongue twirled around it, tasting herself off of the rough pad of his finger. Leon hummed in approval as his other hand crept to her ass, groping it and bringing her pelvis flush to his; it was (Y/N)'s turn to hum as she sensed his hard cock rubbing against her folds. He pulled his finger out, resulting in a popping sound to echo across the small space as she was forced to release his digit.

“Good.” He praised, his low voice resonated right through her and her dripping pussy; his lustful blues scanned her whole form one last time before he switched their positions so she was beneath him. (Y/N)’s heartrate picked up and her breathing grew shallow as the adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream. Immediately, her hands found their place on his shoulders; Leon lined up his dick with her wet entrance, pushing in just the tip. Her nails dug into his skin, the hot air of her frequent breaths tingled his earlobe, yet he wanted to take his time. Leon peppered her face with kisses, whilst his arms cradled her smaller form against his; electric shocks ran through the two of them as their bare skins were flushed together. Keeping his azure irises on her, he observed her face as he slowly pushed in. She hissed through gritted teeth as the sensation of being so filled was too much for her body to handle, though there was no apparent sign of pain nor severe discomfort evident in her body language. Still Leon was careful as he pulled out almost completely, leaving just the tip in.

Underneath him, (Y/N) squirmed as he kept pulling out painfully slow only to push in a sudden, forceful motion; it had her back arch in want, whilst numerous pitiful pleads rolled down her plump lips akin to a prayer, asking for his mercy. Her sweet sounds dripped on his ears much like honey he couldn’t get enough of to the point he ignored his own, other needs as he was too focused on her, drunk from the melody that resonated across the room; her moans and pants mixed with the wet sounds of his cock gently sliding in and out of her drenched pussy were the only sounds Leon was able to hear. Only when she moaned his name did he snap back to reality and truly felt the need that had bottled up within him to the point where he couldn't hold back any longer.

Hooking his arms under the crease of her knees, he placed her legs on his shoulders as he pushed back in her all the way up to the hilt; another louder, high-pitched moan ripped through her throat as he hit the spot that had her seeing stars. Only after a few trusts (Y/N) finally could grasp the sensation of her climax nearing; her back arched once more, bringing her body closer to his as if she desired for their bodies to merge into one. It appeared that was also Leon’s wish for he wrapped one of his arms around her waist all the while the other held her back. Every slam of his hips against her hips had her body quiver as electric shocks of pure pleasure shook her entire form; her eyes were sealed tight though a few droplets of tears rolled down her cheeks, merging with the beads of sweat that coated her smooth skin. Her nails dug into his skin, leaving behind reddened crescent markings, and the sensation of her walls embracing his cock so perfectly had him in a state of pure ecstasy. The movement of his hips grew erratic as he felt his peak threatening to wash over him; the intensity got too much, causing a groan to resonate from his agape mouth. The grip of his fingers on her hips got tighter, which was sure to leave behind marks in numerous shades of blues and purples. The golden strands of his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead; his muscles were tensed and worked up, yet he kept going, blindly chasing after the ultimate bliss the both of them desired.

His name bounced off the walls as (Y/N) moaned loudly; her whole form shook as the coil in her tummy unraveled abruptly, sending a wave of pleasure to wash over her. Her walls fluttered and clenched around his throbbing cock, bringing him closer to his peak; Leon whimpered, his thrusts grew erratic, his vision got blurry as a sheet of bliss embraced his entire form. His release ripped through him; loads of cum coated her twitching pussy that milked every last drop of him. Breathless, he crashed down next to his partner with his cock still buried deep inside of her. (Y/N) hummed in delight as she snuggled into his side, where her head immediately found its place on his chest; her hand rested on his stomach, drawing circles on his constantly rising and falling chest. His heartbeat echoed in her ears as his heart and breath returned to its normal rhythm. He kissed her temple, whilst his arm wrapped around her form. Tranquility eased into them as they laid still in the aftershocks of their afterglow, until their peace was shortly interrupted by the buzzing sound of the broadcast. Leon groaned as he was forced to get up and searched the device in the disregard clothes on the floor; hopping in his pants, he picked up.

“Leon, it’s been six hours since our last transmission! I was started to get worried about you and (Y/N).” Curiously, (Y/N) looked at Leon as she heard Hunnigan’s voice.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” The smug grin on Leon’s face did little to hide what the two agents were up to and the mess that his hair was only made matters worse.

“May I remind you that you two are on duty. Have you found the subject.” He let out a sigh of defeat as he shook his head no. “Well, you better hurry up before it’s too late.” The call ended as abruptly as it had begun; the two agents stared at each other, sharing the same look of what could only be phrased as ‘we’re fucked’ on their faces.

#resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon x you

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shebunie · 5 months

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Could you do one where reader is a samurai kid of a ruff back story facial scars or back and ringo and mizu see them fighting also huge and buff as shit 🙄🙄

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝙈𝙞𝙯𝙪 𝙭 𝙎𝙖𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙞! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁, 𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗿𝘆, 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘀, 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗮 𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟭.𝟭𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗲, 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗮𝗿. 𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝘀𝘀𝘂𝗲𝘀

A woman, training to be a samurai? How laughable. You were of no use, no value even when offered to a brothel. Not when your skin is imperfect, flawed, or undesirable. You were a disgrace. And so you went anew. Walked a path that shaped the person of who you are now.

You trained, with makeshift materials that mother earth provided. You had to make do with what you had. You trained again, with more precision and confidence in your steps. From the early cracks of dawn till the bed of night, you gave every drop of sweat, blood, and tears.

But as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you discovered a resilience within yourself that you never knew existed. The makeshift training ground, surrounded by the echoes of your own doubts, became a sanctuary of self-discovery.

With each swing of the makeshift sword, you embraced imperfection as a testament to your strength. The scars on your skin became a map of your journey, a visual story of battles fought and resilience earned. You realized that perfection was an illusion, and true strength lay in embracing your flaws.

However, at some point in time, you’d give up, out of frustration, and anger. Why couldn’t the gods have given you another life, maybe spare you mercy and take you right now?

I’m tired. Mind plagued with bitterness, sorrow, and demise. And scared.

“How long has it been like that?” Mizu questioned as she leaned by the entrance of the abandoned hut, eyes grazing over the scars littered on your body. Watching Ringo mend another fresh wound you obtained from a fight. From their fight.

She watched you wince and hiss, how your broad shoulders would rise and fall from behind. “Long enough.” You knew what the woman was implying. Calloused fingers of your hand trace along the scar on your arm. A constant reminder of the past.

Heart-shaped lips pursed together, hard in thought. Mizu called out to Ringo to leave you two alone when he finished patching up the wound.

Hushed creeks of the wooden floor and the soft thud of the sandals enveloped the silent room as the dark-haired woman came close. Standing behind you, feeling her gaze at the back of your head. She voiced

“Why risk so much of your life for us, you very well know you can’t save everyone.”

With closed eyes, you steadied your breathing as the mind flowed. You’ve always been living in this way, with the weight of the world heavy on your shoulders. It is what you are been used to — trudging on in life, putting the needs of everyone else before your own. Not a single complaint, not a single time had you griped about the unfairness of it all. Such is life, anyway, is what you always tell yourself— your mantra which often draws you comfort from. But when it all starts to get too much to bear; the burden weighing down to the bones, you finally decide to allow yourself a tiny space to breathe, just for a moment.

Your palpitations start to cease. A few seconds pass, and then a full minute, before you feel a weight settle beside you; you know, without a doubt, a slight turn of your head, you look over at the sword wielder. “I just, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

The night was heavy with the scent of impending danger, but in that moment, you found solace in the shared silence. The soft rustling of leaves and distant echoes of distant creatures became the backdrop to your quiet conversation. The sword wielder's eyes reflected the glint of moonlight as they met yours, and a hint of vulnerability lingered in their gaze.

You turn to face the dark-haired woman, and for the first time, vulnerability flickers in your eyes. The dim light casts shadows on the lines etched on your face, a testament to the battles fought and sacrifices made. You offer a weary smile, the kind that holds a lifetime of stories.

"I appreciate your concern if it was one." you scoffed your voice a gentle murmur that barely broke the silence. "But sometimes, we must risk everything for the chance to make a difference. It's not about saving everyone; it's about making the choice to stand against the darkness, even when the odds are stacked against us."

The room seems to hold its breath as you continue, your gaze fixed on some distant point, perhaps lost in memories or contemplating the uncertain future. "I've seen too much pain and loss. It's true, I can't save everyone, but if I can make a difference for even one person, it's worth it. We all have our battles to fight, and this is mine."

The dark-haired woman listens, her eyes reflecting a mix of admiration and worry. She understands the weight of responsibility, having seen the determination etched on your face during countless trials. Her fingers find solace in the hilt of the sword at her side, a silent acknowledgement of the shared burden.

"I get it, I do," she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "But what if your choices lead to your own undoing? What if the darkness consumes you, and there's no one left to carry on the fight."

Your eyes, tired and world-weary, met hers. The vulnerability in your gaze deepened, revealing the cracks in the armour you've worn for so long. "That's the risk we take," you replied, your voice now laced with raw honesty. "Sometimes, the line between saving others and losing ourselves blurs. But if we let the fear of that darkness paralyze us, then what hope is left?"

The fireflies danced in the distance, their fleeting glow a stark contrast to the gravity of the conversation. The sword wielder clenched her jaw, torn between understanding your noble cause and the gnawing fear that she might lose the one person who had become her anchor.

"I've lost too many people I cared about," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I can't bear the thought of losing you too."

For a moment, silence reigned supreme, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the night. You reached out, your hand finding hers in the darkness, a silent promise etched in that touch.

"We can't control every outcome," you said softly, your thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of her hand. "But we can choose how we face the inevitable. And as long as I can make a difference, I'll keep fighting. For you, for everyone."

The unsaid words lingered in the air, heavy with the unspoken truth that this journey, this fight against the encroaching darkness, might cost more than either of you were willing to admit. In that shared moment of vulnerability, the weight of the world pressed down, and the looming shadows seemed to grow darker.

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twigg96 · 10 months

Text

Into the Darkness, I become Stronger

Daryl X Injured! Reader

Time frame: The Prison (Slight Cannon Divergence)

Pronouns: She/her, You, Your, [Y/N]

Warnings: Blood, Gunshot, Kidnapping, Hostage situation, swearing, POV switching, Nonsexual intimacy, Sexual Intimacy,

Summary: When you and Phoenix go out to pick Elderberries for the Prison, a man from another group attacks you and knocks you out. Dragging you to a clearing in the woods he makes his demands. He wants to know about the prison and claims he and his people don't want to hurt anyone, but will in order to survive. He claims they need weapons and in order to get them... he's taking your daughter Phoenix as collateral.

It was just supposed to be a simple foraging expedition. Nothing major so you had only brought your knife and a few buckets to carry the berries in. Nothing you've never done on your own before. Hell even before the turn you had done this. You and Hershel had noticed the Elder Berry bushes growing near a creek several days prior on your way back to the prison after a walk to clear some of the walkers that had piled against the fence. You were fairly certain you were still visible from those on watch at the prison… you never would have left by yourself if you hadn’t been sure. You most certainly would never have taken Phoenix with you if you had known what was about to happen. But now, bound and gagged you glared at the attacker who snuck up so easily on you both. Who hit you while your back was turned and slung you over his shoulder like you were a sack of potatoes. The same asshole who played and talked so easily to your too trusting four-year old daughter... You sat watching on wondering if and when the others would take notice of your absence. How long had it been now? 10 minutes? Four hours? God time felt like an eternity yet moving so fast you couldn’t comprehend it. “Why is my momma tied up and bleedin'?” Phoenix asked timidly, her voice dripping with a fear that broke through your thoughts and brought you back to reality. A bead of sweat dripped down your face mixing with the blood from your fresh wounds that stung the cut as you watched her with worried eyes. “Because…” the man muttered, pulling Phoenix’s attention back towards himself as he handed her a fully clothed Barbie with matted blonde hair. It was a toy she refused to part with after her father returned home with it several months ago. Poor Barbie somehow managed to end up naked with no hopes of getting dressed by herself or your daughter. It was always up to the adults to help her change the doll into her new more fashionable outfit Phoenix had stored in her pockets and backpack. Your captor… while patient with Phoenix, seemed to also be having fun at your expense. He was watching you intensely, grinning at the way your tears intermingled with the blood that flowed from the fresh wound at your temple. “You’re mommy doesn’t like to listen.” The man muttered standing to his full height. He was tall... taller than you had initially thought, putting to rest any ideas you had of simply taking him down from where you sat. He had a long scar covering the left side of his face that crawled down his throat and a tattoo of an anchor on his left calf. Walking around your daughter you watched him carefully as he glared hatefully into your eyes once he was hidden behind her back. “You see,” the man paused as if to think about his words, placing his hands on either one of Phoenix's shoulders before speaking again. “I really needed to know something important. But your mommy doesn’t want to talk. She tried to hurt me.” The man growled indicating to his limp and stab wound he bore in his right thigh that just missed his artery. Lucky bastard got off easy. “So…” the man muttered, pulling his pistol from his hostler he pointed the gun at the back of Phoenix’s head. “I thought a time out after a real long walk would help mommy want to talk. If not… there is always… incentive.”

The clicking of the hammer sent icy chills down your spine. Your eyes widened and it was as if time itself was at a standstill. Every dust particle that blew past your face, every leaf that tumbled in the wind, every hair that stuck to your skin, every bead of sweat that dripped from your face seemed to stop in time as you stared at the man holding the gun to your daughter's head. Phoenix was a ghostly pale color as she realized exactly what was going on. Her terrified gaze trained on you waiting for you to tell her what to do next. You could only hope that someone was nearby... that the unfamiliar area to you was only slightly off the beaten path of the normal route your husband took when out on a run and he would find you if no one else would. But the silence of the woods was deafening. Swallowing the thick lump in your throat you shook your head, letting the fat tears you were holding back fall to your thighs. "Awe come on now darlin'." God you hated the way that word fell so easily out of that bastard's mouth. "Don't cry over something that ain't happened yet. You can prevent this. Just think long and hard about how many people you got in your camp... How many people ya love there... Ya don't want them to get hurt. So when I come over to ya and remove your gag. I want ya to tell me just what all you got in your camp. How many weapons and bullets. How many people. How much food... water. And tell me the truth... Because if you lie... trust me... we'll find out about it." You nodded in compliance, the sick feeling of fearful shivers coursing through your body making you feel weak. As the man stepped towards you, the barrel of his gun remained trained on Phoenix's head. "Don't worry sweetheart. Just keep playin' with yer dolls." He muttered, softly turning his attention to you as he pulled the coarse material from your mouth. "Now talk." You wanted to scream... to fight back. To break the bonds that held you like the superhero your daughter believed you were and defeat the evil that currently held you. But you knew better. Any retaliation would result in her death. He had the advantage. So you lied. Strategically. "W-we don't have much..." You muttered, your voice gruff and cracking due to fear and thirst. "Well I want to know about what you do have not what you don't." The man growled. You nodded glancing at your daughter before continuing. "We have about eight people... and maybe a gun for each person..." You lied straight through your teeth. The prison was well fortified with weapons Rick and the others had found before the fall of Woodbury. There were lots of people now too. A whole community. Phoenix's uncle Merle. Her father, Daryl. Everyone you cared about. You weren't about to sacrifice them all when you had a chance to outwit this guy... And the man seemed to buy it. Nodding along with every word. "So only eight people and eight guns to clear out the entire prison?" He asked seriously. You shook your head no. Another lie. "No. We have just been living in one of the smaller cell blocks. It was too difficult to clear anything more. Too many walkers." The man hummed looking from you to the ground in thought as if he was considering your words carefully. "Alright... tell your people we want six of your weapons." He growled turning the barrel of his gun on you now. "We'll let you have two for self defense... living in a prison must be dangerous especially with a little one." He muttered looking back at Phoenix with a soft gaze. Stepping around you, the man pulled out a knife and cut the bonds that held your hands. Your wrists were red and raw as you held them in front of yourself, rubbing them gingerly. "Luckily for you, you won't need to worry about her tonight." The man's words cut deep and sent another wave of sick fear through you. Looking up you watched as he held a hand out to your daughter who looked frozen in place. "Come on sweetie. It's time to pack up and go. Mommy has business to attend to. She'll come get you in the morning. We get to have a sleep over."

It was instinctual. You moved to fast to your feet and stumbled, your body too weak from the blow it had taken earlier and your blood not ready to pump so fast. It made your vison falter and fade, darkening as if you were about to pass out. Pain. Pain was all you felt after the shockingly loud bang of the gunshot. Pain that radiated through your left leg and up into your core. Pain that was all consuming and powerful. You didn't even realize you were screaming until the ringing in your ears had subsided. "I really didn't want you to do that..." The man growled stepping up to where you laid, holding tightly to Phoenix's wrist as she tugged hard to get away. "But I guess we can say we're kind of even now... right?" He hissed pulling your daughter, your world out of sight, her screams echoing in your tired mind as your vison went in and out of focus until suddenly you were seeing and hearing nothing at all. Visons of your life played on repeat in your mind like flashes in a movie theater. Your first ever memory. Your favorite memory with a sibling. Your first pet. The first time you met your husband Daryl as a young teen in high school. Skipping behind the bleachers with him during prep rallies and school assemblies just to talk and share things with each other you couldn't with anyone else... which eventually evolved into sweet secretive kisses. The first time you touched each other sensually. The night he proposed under the light of the full moon near the lake you both more time at than your homes. The day you both eloped deciding that traditional marriage was too... well traditional for you both. The day you told him you were pregnant and the day you both realized how scared of the future you both were. The day you told Merle and the way your husband's brother's face lit up as he touched your tummy and felt Phoenix kick against his hand. The day you gave birth. The moment everything changed and you realized that you hadn't known real fear until the turn. Blinking awake you winced at the pain that still ebbed through your entire body. You had so much to live for. So much to fight for... You didn't know how long you were out but you refused to let yourself give up there. Crawling to your feet you stood on shaky legs and began to stumble in the direction of where you believed the road could be. The sun was falling low in the sky and you knew darkness would soon follow. You only hoped Daryl would be home when you got there.

Hours passed before you ever reached a paved road that looked vaguely familiar. But you were sure to use your knife to carve symbols on trees that you passed so that you could get back to the spot you were at when you left to make the trade the next morning. Trade... God the word made you sick and brought a vile taste to your mouth. Trade was a word for goods and services... not humans and children... The sky had just turned dark and the moon had risen in the sky by the time you reached the prison gates. The walkers that had piled up were taken care of in the beginning of the night so as you approached you simply waited for whoever was on duty to open the gates. It didn't take long for Carl to come running over. "[Y/N]!" He screamed pulling the chain with a small grunt letting you quite literally tumble into the prison grounds with a soft whine. You felt his warm hands on your shoulders then heard the boy curse for the first time. You wanted to laugh but the pain was simply overwhelming. "[Y/N] where's Phoenix?" He asked panic dripping from his voice. But you could only sob. "I- Daryl." You got out. "I need Daryl." You gasped, trying to stand as a disheveled Glenn and Maggie came sprinting from the guard tower. "Jesus what happened?!" Maggie screamed rushing to your side. Carl shook his head. "Don't know... I'm going to get Hershel and my dad." He muttered sprinting off to the prison door. "Where's Daryl? I need Daryl." You whined, doubling over on yourself and falling to your knees as you tried to walk up the steep incline to the prison. "[Y/N]! Please be careful!" Maggie cried trying to assess your wounds. "Daryl? He's inside right now, I can get him for you if you need me too." Glenn offered and with a small nod he sprinted up the hill.

Daryl's POV~~~

It was quiet inside the prison. Eerily so. Daryl couldn't get a wink of sleep without you and Phoenix by his side. So instead he focused on sharpening the points of his arrows as he sat on the mattress he shared with you and your daughter up in the loft. Merle perched himself on the top step leaning on the railing. He seemed busy sharpening his own knife but Daryl knew better. He knew Merle was keeping an eye on him. Making sure he was ok with you gone, with you missing for so long. "So ya say this place has a stocked kitchen?" Merle asked softly, adjusting the way his right foot rested against the opposite railway. Daryl hummed providing a swift nod in response. "Think that wife of yours will make us hotcakes like she used to when she gets back?" Daryl blinked looking up at Merle's shit eating grin. Shaking his head he couldn't help but chuckle. He knew Merle was joking but he could still tell Merle was worried about you. "I'm sure if you ask nicely she will." Daryl muttered, placing his arrow back in it's quiver. Merle nodded smiling brightly at Daryl. "Good... I missed havin' hotcakes."

The loud unexpected bang of the front door to the prison slamming open shook Daryl into action. Jumping to the edge of the loft he peered down at Carl who was trying to catch his breath. Walking through the hall of the prison he adjusted his hat on his head as he stuck his head in his dad's cell and a few words were uttered which Daryl couldn't quite catch. As Carl got closer now with Judith in his arms Daryl leaned down catching out of the corner of his eye as Merle hoisted himself up to stand along side him. He watched Carl pop into Hershel and Beth's cell and he thought... for a moment he was dropping the tike off for a while as he and Rick went to deal with something... but as Rick stepped out of the cell and bolted out of the prison and Carl followed suite with Hershel hot on his heels, Daryl got a sick uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jogging down the steps of the loft, he heard Merle huff but knew he wouldn't say much in protest. Not when it was you and Phoenix out there... not when so much was at stake. Glenn met him at the bottom of the steps, a grim expression and blood covering his hands. "Daryl..." He muttered softly. Dread filled Daryl's soul as he shook his head. "Hey... Let me go first..." Merle muttered softly, placing his hand on Daryl's shoulder. In a strange way it was grounding to know Merle was there. To know that if... if what he thought could possibly be outside Merle would handle it. Because Daryl knew deep in his soul he couldn't do it. He wasn't Rick... He couldn't handle it alone. As Glenn glared at his older brother something snapped inside himself. "He doesn't need you, Merle." Glenn hissed. Merle huffed but backed off like a dog scolded. "Hey! Don't fuckin' tell him nothin'!" Daryl growled stepping into Glenn's face. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he was out of line. But his emotions were high. He'd ask for forgiveness later. Letting Merle skirt past him he kept his face as stoic as he could hold it as he walked passed Glenn and he followed his elder brother out into the yard to face his fear. Light shined down on Hershel and Rick as they examined the crumpled body of a woman laying in the yard. Beaten... battered... bleeding and broken... With no child... no Phoenix. Daryl wanted to scream. To cry. To break. Not his little girl... not his Phoenix. Not their baby... Not when he fought so hard to get them here. Not after everything he's seen. Not after Sophia... He couldn't loose her. He felt himself freeze for a moment. Hoping... praying that maybe if it happened if she was bit, you took care of it. He couldn't do it. But as you screamed out the doctor pulling a bloody rag from your leg he knew now wasn't the time to freeze or break down. [Y/N] needed him. His fucking wife needed him right fucking now. Daryl ran to your side as fast as he could his heart shattering as he every whimper and scream you uttered.

Your POV~~~~

You watched as Maggie poured some of the water from her canteen onto an old rag she held. Gently she swiped the now dried blood from your face before ushering you to lay flat in the grass. "I need ta look at your leg." She said softly, lifting your leg onto her own folded ones as she sat cross legged. Her fingers skimmed the underside of your thigh and with a sigh she shook her head as Rick came into view. "How is she?" He asked kneeling beside you he lit an oil lamp that was much too bright for the headache you didn't realize you had until now. Maggie shook her head but didn't say a word simply holding pressure to your leg as looked over other parts of your bruised body. "Rick..." You tried to talk but he shushed you placing a cool wet cloth across your forehead and his knees under your head. "Just rest..." He whispered softly, his fingers rubbing circles into your temples and easing the migraine. Although he looked around, the question was never asked of where Phoenix was and it killed you. Carl and Hershel were by your side before you knew it, Merle and Daryl not far behind. Like the blink of an eye and you had to wonder if you passed out or if they really were just fast. You couldn't hold back your emotions anymore at the sight of your husband. He looked like he was holding on by a thread. "Good evening [Y/N]." Hershel muttered, squeezing your free hand softly, letting Daryl take it from him as your husband took his place beside Rick. "How is she?" Hershel asked Maggie as he slowly knelt to the ground beside you. God that question was really starting to get old... Maggie shook her head once more. "She's got a lot of superficial cuts and nicks. But she was shot in the leg... it's still bleeding and didn't go the whole way through." She said confidently. "Holy... who the fuck shot ya?" Merle growled. You couldn't see him from over everyone else's head's but from the sound of it, he was pacing in frustration. A Dixon trait. "I-I don't know." You said softly finally letting the tears fall and sobs let loose. Covering your face with your arm you let yourself sob openly. "[Y/N]. You need to calm down." Maggie instructed pressing down on your leg harder to stop the flow of new blood. You could feel Daryl squeezing your hand and leaving soft wet kisses as his own tears met the back of your hand with fears that went unsaid. "Daryl I-I'm so sorry." You managed to whisper, pulling back your arm to meet his blue eyes. You felt your husband tense in your grasp but kept speaking. You had to let him know... "He took her. He took her before I could do anything-" Rick shuffled beneath you and you watched as he and Daryl shared a look. "He? What do ya mean he? The Governor?" Merle asked in rapid fire succession. You softly shook your head. "No... I- I don't know. He came at us from behind. Says he's in a group but I didn't get a name from him... I don't think their big. And I don't think they know about the prison." You said looking up at Rick. "He wanted to know about what we had. What weaponry... food... people." Meeting Daryl's worried eyes you continued. "He never hurt Phoenix. Not that I could see... He's using her as a bargaining chip. He wants six guns, I told him we only had eight. So he said we can keep two. He wants to... trade for her at the same spot he held her and I today." Daryl seemed to relax only slightly, taking a deep breath he leaned close to you, kissing your forehead gently and caressing your cheek softly. "Ya did good, Sunshine. Ya got home. Now let me take care of bringin' our baby home." His breath was but a whisper on your skin but it felt so soft and comforting all the same.

Hershel sighed pulling his kit closer to himself. "Do you think it hit bone?" He asked seriously. "Maybe." Maggie hummed moving her body up to take your hand down. "Ok. [Y/N]. I'm not gonna lie... this is gonna hurt like the dickens." Hershel muttered, lifting a pair of long and thin clamps. Handing a piece of leather to Maggie he sighed. "Put it in her mouth so she doesn't break her teeth." He murmured, pulling out a small metal dish to put the pieces of the bullet into. You had thought childbirth was bad. It was. But maybe only marginally worse than this. Hershel poured alcohol into the bullet wound to clean it out, fishing little bits of debris he found with the extra long clamps. You had thought when it all began that there would be a few pieces of bullet shrapnel in your leg. But now you understood that there was dirt, wood, and grass from your hike as well as the shrapnel. Worst of all the shrapnel refused to simply be pulled away from your wound, being melded with you either in your bone and having to be picked out one by one, or was so deep that Hershel nicked nerve every time he moved. You screamed and begged for a break, tears streaming down your face but he couldn't stop and risk loosing a piece in you, risk giving you lead poisoning, a lethal infection, or allow the metals in the bullet to seep in and give you cancer over time. As the moon rose to its position to it's peak in the sky, Hershel pulled the last piece of metal, holding it high in the air. "Ah... there it is." He said loudly to the relief of your family who had gathered. Maggie wiped the sweat that gathered on your brow. Rick, Daryl, and Merle had long since left your side. They hadn't strayed far. Just a few feet away to talk in peace about what you could only assume was the fate of Phoenix. Rick was looking forlornly at you as Carl, Glenn and Maggie all did their best to hoist you to your feet without making you sick.

Wrapping an arm around Glenn's shoulder's you pointed to your husband's direction. "I need ta talk to them before we go in." You muttered. Slowly the two of you made your way over to the group of men. Daryl was the first to turn to you both taking you from Glenn's arms into his own he hoisted you princess style despite your protests that you could in fact stand. "Bull shit... shouldn't be walkin' on that leg." He muttered laying a kiss on your temple. "[Y/N]." Rick said softly stepping forward. "We need ta know where ya were at when he attacked you... and where he took ya." You nodded and pointed in the direction of the elderberry grove you had been foraging earlier. "He attacked me over next to the creek in the elderberries." You stated watching as Rick grow serious and cock a brow. 'That's impossible... whoever was on guard duty should have seen you." He huffed, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. Staring back you shrugged. "Rick... I'm just telling you what happened. I don't know who all was on duty today but they didn't see us. So maybe that's a blind spot we didn't know existed until now or-" Rick shook his head glaring at no one in particular. "It's not a blind spot I can see that area on duty all the time..." You tilted your head, repositioning your hold on your husband's shoulders. "So what are you saying Rick?" You asked not trying to piss off the ex-cop further than you had to. Rick shrugged shaking his head, that wild faraway look coming back into his eyes. That one that just screamed that he wasn't all there. "I-I don't know... maybe someone in here is planning something with someone... out there." He hissed pointing exaggeratedly to the D Block then to the Elderberry bushes. Daryl shuffled you in his arms a worried look falling on his face as he looked between you and Merle who simply seemed far too understanding for the situation. "We ain't sain' that ain't a possibility... but [Y/N] said-" Daryl tried to explain once more. But Rick had shut down. It was clear in his eyes. "Hey! What we all need is rest... In the mornin' [Y/N] can lead us back to where ever we need ta be with six guns and a hell of a lot more with a group of us hidden in the bushes. Shit goes south we blow 'em away." Merle suggested. Rick sighed running a hand through his hair. "Yeah... lets just sleep on it and talk in the morning."

Daryl carried you slowly up the hill to the prison. The lamp and medical supplies were all cleaned by Maggie, Hershel, and Glenn. You made a mental note to thank them in the morning after you got Phoenix back. Merle walked side by side with Daryl. His gaze was firmly on your wounded form, scanning you for anything the doctor and his daughter could have missed. "Ya know this doesn't excuse you from makin' Daryl, Nix and I hotcakes right?" He teased smirking at you. The rumble in Daryl's chest was contagious as you both laughed, pressing your face into his neck. "Damn, Merle... you're right... if we make a pit stop on the way home tomorrow from picking Phoenix up, I'll even make elderberry hotcakes. How's that sound?" Merle smiled so contently and you couldn't blame him. Even though you knew this conversation was all a joke... that you didn't really have all the ingredients for your famous hotcakes... it was nice to pretend for a moment that in the midst of hell there was a moment of normalcy. "I think we can make that happen, little sister." Merle hummed reaching over with his good hand to squeeze your shoulder lightly.

The three of you stopped outside of the door to the prison, Daryl leaned against the concrete walls having placed you down, for the moment to smoke a cigarette before going in. He placed you gently in between his legs as he leaned against the brick wall of the prison, letting you lean your body against his own. You almost felt like you were highschoolers again... almost. Daryl combed through your hair with his free hand glancing down at your injured leg once in a while to make sure you were keeping it propped or up as he instructed. The smell of his cigarette wafted in the wind as he took a shaky breath listening to the first birds of early dawn sing their songs. Merle however. Merle paced back and forth out of sight of the metal door. He looked agitated and anxious. "Daryl I'm telling you..." He muttered, his voice a mere whisper. "I think Rick is to blame for this." You shifted uncomfortably against your husband's chest, not really appreciating the outfield accusation. But you had your suspicions too. Daryl however... Daryl was silent. The hand that was combing through your hair moved to wrap protectively around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. There was a tenseness you could feel in his actions. He trusted Rick and was still loyal to him. And you knew he didn't want to risk that trust and loyalty for anything... but that was his little girl out there... not Judith or Carl. Not that it would have changed things if it were... for Daryl. As if on instinct Daryl caressed your tummy with his thumb missing the baby that was once there. You felt him shift nervously behind you pulling your body with him so that you didn't fall. "Dunno..." Daryl muttered finally taking an extra long drag of his cigarette. "Think it's horse shit that we aint out there right now lookin' fer her though." Daryl growled. Merle sighed running his hand through his thinning hair. "Nix can kick some ass if she needs... she's strong like her daddy and momma. She can make it through the night." He muttered holding his prosthetic out in the moonlight. "And if there's a single scratch on that girl I swear none of them men will have any balls left to show for it..." Nodding you glared hatefully at the elderberry bushes as if they had done you wrong themselves. "I think we should ride out once light breaks and try to get a leg up on the situation..." You muttered. You could feel the low rumble in Daryl's chest as he hummed lovingly squeezing you before laying a sweet kiss to the top of your head then your lips. "Nah... You're gonna stay here, sunshine. Get yer rest. We'll need ya later in the day." The taste of his his cigarette permeated the kiss. But you didn't mind... you never did. "That bein' said..." He muttered, flicking his cigarette off to the side before hoisting you into his arms once more. "Lets get you to bed."

Daryl had been kind enough to carry you to the shower room to help clean you up and with a little assistance he helped you take a shower, being sure to keep your new sutures and gunshot wound as dry as he physically could as the two of you bathed together. As weird as it was... it was oddly romantic standing in the prison shower stall alone together with Daryl. The full moonlight cascading on both of your wet bodies detailing every detail of each of you. Even in the darkness of the night you could clearly see the shampoo suds sliding from the top of Daryl's crown, down his toned body as he rinsed his head under the water, letting you hold the button down to release more hot water for him. He softly massaged your back with one of the many clean washcloths and helped to clean your body of any dry blood that Maggie may have missed, being extra delicate when touching upon one of your wounds. "Damn, baby." His whispered voice echoed through the large bathroom. "Bastard really clocked you good." Daryl hummed softly, worry dripping into every word as he massaged shampoo into your own hair, being extra gentle with the newly formed knot that he found that made you hiss and pull away. His worried blue eyes followed you as you leaned back to rinse your hair in the stream of water. "It'll heal." You muttered softly closing your eyes to keep the suds from falling into your eyes. The feeling of his fingers intertwining with your hair relaxed you under the stream of the water. The scratching of his nails on your scalp was welcome and inviting on a day like today. "Tell me if I hurt ya." He muttered. He was always so sweet and soft with you. Sitting up when your hair ran clear you wrapped your arms around Daryl's neck and shoulders kissing him fully, lovingly, completely. Pulling you into his lap Daryl deepened the kiss. Sliding your uninjured leg across his body you straddled his hips getting comfortable with him between your legs. Kissing down the length of your neck Daryl left sweet possessive hickies, his hands traveling from your waist to your back before landing on your chest. You don't know if it was because another man had laid hands on you, if it was a distraction from the fact Phoenix was still out there, or if it was because you were hurt. But Daryl had never been more gentle with you in your relationship when it came to sex before. Bouncing you gently he insisted that you allow him to do most of the work, his breathing hitched as you clenched around him when he found your most sensitive parts. Holding you close to his chest he let your foreheads rest against one another's as you rocked against him, your nails digging into his shoulders as your moans echoed across the bathroom walls. Even as your emotions overflowed and tears fell during, Daryl wiped them away with calloused thumbs, taking the time to insure that you were ok before he continued, kissing your shoulders, your neck, your cheek just to let you know how loved you were and that everything would be ok. His fingers ghosted across your skin feeling the goose pimples that rose there, letting you scratch his biceps as you reached your climax, watching as your head lulled and fell into his shoulder to hide your screams of pleasure only allowing himself to finish inside you once he was certain you had finished yours.

You had thought after having the day you just had, having to take two showers and having mind blowing sex you would have fallen to sleep immediately. But that was the farthest from the truth. That night was the longest of your life. Neither of you slept a single wink. Instead when Daryl laid you down in your shared loft bed, fully clothed and mostly dried you two simply stared at the window. Holding each other as tight as the other could stand you both angled yourselves to watch the sunrise literally counting the minutes until you both could run out in search of your daughter. Daryl's finger's skated along your back and through your hair as yours traveled the length of his chest and abs. "Do you remember when we took Phoenix to the pool for the first time?" Daryl suddenly asked. Looking up into his eyes you noticed they looked far away and distant. You nodded smiling as you allowed yourself to lay your head on your husband's chest. "Yeah. She was so perplexed by her little swimsuit and swimming diaper." You giggled thinking about how when Merle held her for the picture she peed all over him. "Yeah... we put her little feet in the pool and she screamed so loud I thought for sure the chemicals had burned her." Daryl chuckled his hand now combing through your wet hair. "She was always a little drama llama." You giggled kissing Daryl's chest. "Yeah... but once we put her in her Minnie Mouse floaties she took off and no one could catch her... she lived in the water." Daryl laughed, physically having to cover his mouth to stifle the laugh and keep from waking the others. You nodded feeling a sick unidentifiable dread fill your chest as you wrapped your arms around him. Tears slipped down your cheeks and although you tried your damnedest to keep it down a sob escaped your lips. "Yeah... she always loved to swim." You hiccupped through the sobs. Daryl was silent, but the way his body shook you could tell he was crying too. "We'll make a pool here... so she can swim here one day..." Daryl huffed out through a strangled sob and you couldn't help but curl tighter into his chest, burying your face in his shirt. Bawling harder than you can remember you grasped at his shirt gasping his shirt you tried to keep silent, and for the most part you were successful. Even when Daryl urged you to cry openly, to fuck them all and their sleep. But it was your sleep that won over in the end after all of your emotions drained you dry.

The sun was high in the sky when you woke and instantly you wanted to throw up with fear and anxiety. Jolting out of bed you cried out in pain, nearly falling down the stairs, catching yourself on the rail with a clash. "[Y/N]?!" Carol cried out rushing up the stairs to help you down. Tears rolled down your cheeks as sobs ripped through you. "Where's Daryl? Did they-" You tried asking but Carol cut you off pulling you into a tight hug once she got you down the stairs. "He's outside. They didn't leave yet... He just wanted you to get your rest before you all went out later." You nodded resting back against the wall. "I know you may not feel hungry... but you should eat." Carol muttered sliding a bowl of oatmeal in your direction. To be honest just looking at the food made you feel sick. But as you picked up the spoon with a shaky hand and took a bite you suddenly realized just how hungry you were. Pulling the plastic bowl closer you took large bites. "Thank you. I didn't realize I was hungry." You muttered once you had finished the entire bowl. Carol nodded smiling somberly. "I... felt similarly when Soph was missing." She confided leave it at that you didn't dare pry or let yourself dwell of any possibilities too much. The sliding of the metal door drew your attention away from dark and depressing as Daryl and Merle stepped in. "Good. Sleeping beauty is awake." Merle teased winking at you. Daryl rolled his eyes and sighed walking over to lift you into his arms. "Ya ready, sunshine?" he asked. With an uncertain nod he carried you outside. Daryl sat you in the passenger seat of the car as everyone grouped up to chat. "So are you sure he said to meet for this time?" Hershel asked you, pointing to the sky you had indicated when telling them earlier. The question merely made you doubt yourself and the placement the sun was in the sky when you were attacked. But you nodded and pointed to where it was based on what you could see before you passed out. "Alright..." Rick muttered running his hands through his hair. "We got an hour before we gotta be there... [Y/N] said she marked the trail. We look for the marks on the side of the road and go from there." Rick muttered watching Glenn and Carl pack the six "guns" into the car for transfer. "Daryl you ride with [Y/N], Merle, and Glenn to the trade site. Carl, Hershel, Carol, Maggie, and I will be in another car parked on the road we'll watch you all enter the trade site and make sure there are no unwanted followers. Maggie and Carol will follow first to set up. I will be close behind Hershel and Carl will stay in the car as back up in case we need them... Make sense?" He asked looking between everyone making eye contact before nodding sternly. "Alright... lets get Phoenix back.

The ride to the place you were held was absolute hell. Merle would not leave Glenn alone. Glenn would not stop fanning the flames and making Merle want to tease and pick more. Every time you yelled at either one of them you felt like the bad guy. You felt like the mom to two rowdy teens on a long road trip... except you couldn't threaten to turn this car around. No this road trip was too important. As you pulled up to the first of your visible markings you pointed it out to Daryl then reached out the window with your indicator flag you all made out of a florescent orange hunting vest and waved it once to indicate this was the spot. Daryl pulled to the side of the road. The trail was too small for the car to go down, Loading up with as many guns as they each could hold you lead them down the makeshift trail you created. It was so much shorter than you remembered, but the blood from the day before still laid in the field, unchanged and unmoved. Standing at one end of the field you began to feel antsy as you watched the sky. Ten minutes... glancing around you didn't see anything. Not a person scouting the area before hand. Not an animal peeking through the brush. The silence was palpable. Taking Daryls hand in your own you kept your wits about you. You didn't want to seem too vulnerable with Phoenix's captors... but you neither of you could do this alone. Looking up at the sky they were now officially late. You stood stock still. Listening for any sign of movement. Had you gotten the place wrong? The time? Anxiety washed over you as the silence continued to prevail only interupted by the small snapping of twigs as Rick settled in his place nearby. There were now twenty minutes late... despite Glenn's constant pleas to stay optimistic. "Maybe they hit traffic... or they had an emergency." You never felt more nervous and sick in your life. The bickering between Merle and Glenn slowly but surely started once more and the tenseness that your husband held in his body the night before slowly returned. Twenty minutes turned to thirty which turned to fifty as Carl came out to find his dad. You had gone to the corner of the field and vomited twice in this time and were just starting to begin to give up hope when an hour and a half rolled around. "Maybe... we should come up with a plan B..." Rick's voice tore through the silence and through your emotions. Taking what felt like the first breath since you arrived you began to hyperventilate shaking your head. "N-No..." you whispered running your hands through your hair. You had seen enough 48 hours before to know you didn't have time to come up with another plan... This was your plan...

Just as you felt you might melt into oblivion a sudden loud crash through the brush caught everyone's attention. Within a second everyone had their weapon's drawn and pointed at the noise. The brush on the side where the man was to bring Phoenix shook and swayed. "Come out slowly and we won't shoot!" Rick ordered cocking his pistol. The bush suddenly stopped shaking and a small whimper came from within it. "Wait. I'm stuck Uncle Rick." You thought for a moment, you were going to pass out. Lowering your gun you holstered it limping forward. "Phoenix?!" You cried out desperately. "I'm here momma!" She cried stumbling out of the briars with a little whimper. To your horror and awe, Phoenix was covered in blood. Standing midway in the field you stared at your little girl. Her body painted in blood. Slowly she looked up at you, her blue eyes meeting yours as a twisted grin reached her face. "I used the knife daddy gave me." She said proudly holding out the small pocket knife Daryl had given her to use in dire emergencies. "I used it just like Aunt Carol taught me and I remembered how to get here... I was hoping you'd still be here!" She squealed happily running up to you. The horrific realization that, your daughter had most likely killed men and faced the undead hit you like a brick in the stomach. But as you knelt down in the dry puddle of your own blood swiping away any of the blood that was still damp looking for wounds, scratches and bites. "Did you make sure they wouldn't come back?" You asked seriously, hiding your shaking hands behind her back as you pulled her close to you, holding her close catching Daryl out of the corner of your eye as he moved to kneel beside you both. Your husband's own face was ashen pale as if he himself had seen a ghost. "I did. I stuck them in the head just like aunt Carol said to." Phoenix said handing her little knife over to Daryl to close before hugging him tightly. "Aren't ya proud of me daddy?" She asked excitedly. You watched as Daryl's face morphed from disbelief to stunned shock, rageful hate filled anger at the world for making his little girl experience this, before it landed on acceptance... at least for now. "O-Of course I am baby girl... so, so proud of you. But, I don't want ya to have do this again unless-" She nodded pulling away with a smile. "It's an emergency. I know." She said. "Can we go home now? I feel sticky."

It had been two days since the incident... Daryl refused to go out on runs certain his family wasn't safe unless he was there despite Merle's promise's to keep you and Phoenix safe. You currently sat outside in the courtyard with Carl, Judith, Phoenix and Merle listening to Daryl and Rick's fight. "My daughter had to learn how to put people down damn it!" Your husband screamed. You could hear both Carol and Rick muttering something to him but... Daryl wanted to hear none of it. "I don't give a shit that you were trainin' them Carol!" He bellowed pulling Merle's attention. "Ain't never seen him so pissed." Merle sighed tinkering with his blade. "I did..." You replied, glancing at your brother-in-law. "The day we lost you. He nearly killed Rick then." Merle blinked seeming to think on this as if it were the first time he ever imagined that possibility. "What we should be focusing on is that whoever was on watch didn't see the whole fucking attack that happened just over the god damned gate!" You heard something metal clang against the concrete floor, only assuming that Daryl had resorted to pitching things or clearing the tables with a single swipe. "Sounds like he's about ready to do it again..." Merle joked, swiping a stray piece of hair from your daughter's face. You sighed looking longingly at Phoenix. "We were lucky... I think Daryl realizes that. But the chances of us being lucky again. They're slim Merle." You hummed meeting his gaze. He nodded meeting your gaze from the corner of his eyes. "I know." There was another loud crash that made all of you jump an Judith to cry out. Carl was quick to pick her up and start soothing her. He was best at it, and despite the shit he gave you all, he still was a kid at heart. "Damn it Daryl!" Rick finally yelled back. "I get you're pissed! I do! But throwin' shit around ain't gonna fix the problem!" With a sigh you slowly stood. "I better go stop Daryl before he really looses it." You sigh.

You could hear the fight more clearly as you painfully climbed the hill to the prison block. "Ya can't know there's not more out there Rick! I want to be sure there's no one out there right now lookin' for us." Daryl hissed. Rick sighed nodding. "We can look while we're out on runs but we need you for that Daryl." Your husband shook his head, pacing back and forth. "Nah... not til I know who was on watch when they went missin'. I want to know they can't go on watch no more." Rick shuffled his feet and shook his head. "Look we need all the help we can get..." Daryl seemed to only get more aggravated at that growling before flipping a metal chair... or another chair... you found the reason of the last major crash. Looks like the first chair went through some old wooden creates the prison had. "Bull shit!" Daryl growled pointing at Rick. "Tell me it wasn't you then... you said there's no blind spots there so tell me why it wouldn't be you." He accused walking over to where Rick stood. You watched in horror as Daryl got in Rick's face just like he was in high school itching for a fight. "Guys!" You screamed limping over to the two, catching their attention just before they threw fists. "That's enough!" Daryl huffed backing off but not down. "Well?" He hissed. Rick seemed to be juggling his words carefully before he nodded. "I-I was on duty when it happened..." He admitted. "But I don't remember it at all." You sighed frowning deeply. It was as you feared. "Rick... could you have been on the other side of the prison?" Rick shook his head as Daryl paced back and forth running his hands through his hair a new wave of axiety rushing through him. "So anything could have gotten through or been peeking in while you had an episode?" He growled. Rick sighed obviously frustrated with the way the question was worded so you rephrased it. "So you just go blank for a little while... or is it like something else?" You asked seriously. Rick relaxed a bit. "It's not as bad as when I was... seeing her all the time... I still do... but it's different. I-It's hard to explain." You nodded looking to Daryl. "Maybe we should delegate the patrol duty for a little while... train the newbies? And you can... take a break." You suggested. Hershel nodded, picking up one of the chairs Daryl threw. "You'll still be head just... with less to do." He murmured. Rick sighed. "I always wanted to farm..."

A few hours passed by. You couldn't seem to keep your eyes off of Phoenix. It was still so miraculous to you that she made it back to you at all. That she defied all odds and made it home. You wondered what fresh hell she went through then decided that maybe it was better if you didn't know for now... she would tell you in her own time. Daryl was laying beside her in the bed. You both watched her little sleeping form as if she were the newborn you both brought home from the hospital again. You rubbed sweet circles into her back before curling tight against the two of them. "Our baby is home Daryl." You whispered kissing his lips sweetly. Daryl nodded kissing your forehead. "Went through hell an' back again... but the little demon looks like she thrived there... she looks stronger for it. That normal?" You giggled softly and shrugged. "Dunno... I think so nowadays... Look at Carl." You teased loving the chuckle that tore from your husband's throat. "Yeah I suppose so..." He muttered, pulling you down for another kiss. "I love ya, sunshine. Get some rest."

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reneeluv154 · 4 months

Text

I said I'm sorry

I hope you enjoy!!🤍🤍

This is a newt imagine, you got into a fight with Gally and got hurt, newt gets frustrated since this isn’t the first time this has happened.

“Newt, I said I’m sorry.” I pleaded as Newt dragged me into the medhut, He shook his head while gathering the tools he needed. “Sorry doesn't cut it this time.” He mumbled pulling up a stool.

“Let me see your elbow.” I moved my arm to show him my elbow. He sighed, “Y/n, you promised you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

“He started it! I was just-“

“Just be quiet.”

I was screwed, he was mad this time. After he finished patching up my cuts, scrapes, and bruises he spoke while putting away the tools he had used.

“Gally and his crew are a bunch of shanks, you know that. Feeding into what they say isn’t going to help anything.”

“Helps my anger,” I mumbled.

“Listen to me!” He banged a fist on the table making me jump.

“You never bloody listen to me and always end up getting hurt!”

I didn’t know what to say, I was scared, he had never raised his voice at me. A tear rolling down my face I forced out an apology.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“I just need some time Y/n.” He said, beginning to walk out. “Time?” I asked, he turned looking me in the eyes, I could see the sadness in his eyes, they were glistening with tears.

He nodded “Time to myself.” I walked over to him, grabbing onto his arm and cuddling into him. “But. I need you.” I cried.We stood silent and still for a moment. “I just need time.” I felt him pull away from me and watched him walk back to the gardens.

The sun had now set the dark sky enveloping the glade, The others were asleep while I sat at the small creek watching the water move, listening to the calming sound of flowing water.

What have I done? I thought. I knew Newt wasn’t going to be happy with me as soon as I opened my mouth to backtalk when Gally began bugging me.

I finally let myself cry, my head falling to my knees and whimpers falling from my mouth. “Love?” It was Newt. I never wanted him to see me cry or anyone for that matter, it felt humiliating. He sat beside me,wrapping an arm around my back.

“It’s late, you know, you should come to bed.”

“I’m sorry.” I sobbed.

“I can’t understand you.” He whispered, his hot breath against my cold ear gave me comfort.

“I said I’m sorry.” I locked eyes with him, his face immediately softening when seeing mine. “Your right, I should have listened to you, I really should have, I never wanted to make you angry”

“I’m just stupid, I-I’m stupid.” He shook his head and gently picked me up, setting me on his lap and giving my head a tender kiss.

“You're not stupid baby, I know it’s hard to ignore him, I just hate seeing you hurt, especially when I can't beat the shuck outta him.”

“I thought you were gonna break up with me.” He held me tighter.

“I could never break up with my little flower. I apologize for raising my voice, you didn’t deserve that, I was just worried about you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, but I know how to make it up to you.”

I moved to sit up in his lap, looking him in the eyes. “How?” I wondered.

He smiled. “Well, I’ll give you as many cuddles as you want and I’ll let you pick as many flowers from the garden as you would like for the next week.”

I smiled. “Can you sleep in with me?”

He chuckled, nodding his head.

“I’ll sleep in with you.”

I couldn't stop the large smile from growing on my face, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck. He let out another chuckle while standing, me still in his strong arms, carrying me back to our little hut.

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thisisawonderfulusername · 7 months

Text

a hike with your angel

aziraphale x reader

requested by: anonymous

summary: aziraphale takes you on a hike to tell you something special

warnings: just fluff

a/n: i've had this done for a while and just... didn't post it for some reason. hopefully it's good :)

when aziraphale invited you to go out, you were excited. while it was normal for the two of you to go out, it just never ceased to bring happiness to you. whether it was sitting silently in his shop listening to music, or going out for a meal, you loved it.

it was a passing suggestion in the quiet of the shop as you read a book.

"do you enjoy hikes, y/n?"

you looked up to him, "if there's something to look forward to at the end, yes."

he nodded to himself, and that was the end of that conversation.

maggie had suggested to him the idea of a nice picnic when he approached her with the question of how to confess his feelings, and he decided that she knew what she was talking about.

after a few days of planning, he showed up at the door of your quaint home. you were confused to see him, as you usually met him at his shop midday. "angel, what are you doing here?"

you had adopted the nickname for him when you heard crowley speak it, not knowing the meaning behind it until they told you later of their identities.

"well, i thought that we could go on a hike," he tells you, "i found a nice trail just outside of town, and crowley was kind enough to lend me his car."

you glanced out onto the street and saw that the car was indeed there. "well, that sounds like a lovely idea."

about a half hour later, you're going down a trail in the park, weaving through trees and listening to the sounds of the birds chirping and a creek flowing to the side.

"it's beautiful out here" you hum, admiring the greenery and wildlife.

"it truly is," aziraphale smiles, thinking of what lies ahead.

when you get to a clearing, you notice a blanket laying on the ground amongst the grass and flowers, a basket resting on top.

"ah, here we are," you're surprised when aziraphale walks toward it.

"did you set this up?" you question, a small grin spreading across your face.

he looks back at you as he opens the basket, "why of course" he smiles," you said you enjoy hikes if there's something to look forward to."

you admire the set up. it's like something you'd see in a movie. a red gingham blanket, a wicker basket- and he pulls out a bouquet of flowers.

"these are for you." he holds it out to you and you swear your heart is beating out of your chest as you take them.

"they're beautiful," you whisper softly as you admire it. all of your favorite flowers are presented in a magnificent arrangement.

nervously, he folds his hands together. "i actually have to tell you something-" he clears his throat, "something important."

you gently place the flowers down, "what is it?"

"well, you see…" he tries to remember the speech he prepared, the one he recited in his head the whole hike here like a mantra. apparently, he didn't recite it quite enough, because it just wasn't there anymore. "i… well, we've been friends for quite some time and…"

as he struggles for words, you hope that what he's trying to say is what you've been wanting to say for a long time.

instead of allowing him to continue the struggle. of formulating words, you gently cradle his face in your hands and kiss him.

every single feeling you've had for this angel is poured out through one action, and your heart is racing. what if you read into this wrong?

when you pull away, you look into his eyes, looking for any indication of what his reaction to what you just did was.

they were wide and for a moment you worried you had sent him into shock. until he finally spoke.

"i suppose that's a good way to say it."

you chuckle, "oh thank god that's what you were getting at. i was worried for a moment."

he smiles, "yes. i like you, y/n."

is your heart soaring? it certainly feels like it right now. "good. that would have been embarrassing if you didn't."

laughing lightly, he gently cradles your face in his hands to place another gentle kiss to your lips.

taglists

good omens: @chewbrry @cool-iguana aziraphale: none yet

#good omens x reader #aziraphale x reader #good omens aziraphale x reader #aziraphale good omens x reader

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valhallaas · 1 year

Text

Sun Across The Sky

pairing: jake hangman seresin x icarus!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: you flew too closely to the sun, but Jake Seresin would die before he’d let you fall.

warnings: smut 18+ (minors dni) p in v, cream pie, near death experience, mild angst

a/n: soft jake. i love soft jake. we all deserve soft jake for just a moment.

It starts at dawn. The slow-flowing creek, the wildflowers slowly overgrown on the bank, the canopy of vibrantly colored leaves swaying softly in the warm late-summer air, blending beautifully into the warmth of the orange sherbet skyline. Deep inhale, slow exhale. Your arms swing out and above your head, fingers dancing in the wind, reaching for the last of the stars before they disappear with the sunlight. The sound of running footfalls echo through the quiet as you bend forward, palms touching the blue yoga mat beneath you.

“You’re up early.”

Turning, one arm lifts up, placing you into the triangle pose. Jake stares down at you, backwards ballcap on his head, hands on his hips, and bare chest slightly heaving. The rising sun paints him in the warmest hues of oranges, yellows, and reds. Making his lightly tanned skin glow incandescently. His eyes crinkle with his smile — one that could rival the sun — sweat rolls down his body.

You raise your eyebrows at his statement. “I always wake with the sun.”

He says it like he doesn’t know that. You watch his grin widen, follow his movements until he's planting a kiss to your forehead before heading back to the house. Standing upright on your feet, you inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale. Moments pass but you still feel the heat, the lingering burn from his skin on yours. You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew. Glancing up, the clouds are cast with a golden hue, begging you to get lost in them. The warmth of the sun coats you, wanting you closer. A small smile tugs at your lips. The sky is calling you.

Jake’s stepping out of the shower when you finally make your way inside. Setting the yoga mat by the full length mirror, you watch him get ready. He’s built like he was carved from marble — shaped intentionally, painstakingly, wondrously — each hard-line and defined muscle. A god in his own right. But it isn’t his build or golden skin and blonde hair that inevitably pulls everyone's attention to him whenever he walks into a room — it’s his energy. His aura.

He’s like a beacon, a lighthouse, illuminating the entire room in the kind of magnetic energy that pulls your attention, just by being in it. When his eyes flick over to meet yours in the reflection, his brows raise, and you can’t help the flirtatious wink that causes him to shake his head with a light chuckle.

You turn to face him when he walks over to you. Warm hands grip tightly onto your hips before trailing up your sides, goosebumps breaking out across your bare skin. It’s not often he touches you like this. Normally it’s a hand on your lower back, a kiss to your forehead, lingering looks from across the room. You’re a secret hidden underneath the bed sheets, confined to the four walls of your bedroom. Nobody knows — nobody needs to know. More than anything you’re best friends. Never one without the other. You, Icarus, and he, Apollo. Your head in the clouds and the sun follows him wherever he goes.

Your hands run up his arms, rubbing at his shoulders, scratching up the back of his neck. One hand trails back down, index finger catching the chain hanging around his neck. You thumb at the dogtags, the imprint of his name against your skin. It’s the golden pendant that has your attention. A sun engraved into metal. His lips crash into your own when he pulls you by your own dogtags, a matching pendant hanging between them.

His tongue drags across your fluttering pulse, and when he sucks your skin hard enough to leave a bruise, your fingers splayed open on his broad shoulders, digging into the taut muscle that flexes as he draws you closer. Calloused hands pull at your sports bra, the cool morning air drawing your nipples taunt.

His hands slide down your back, holding you close as he leans forward and lays you down on the sea of blankets. You’ve been together too long for you to be embarrassed by the whimper of a moan that escapes you when his teeth tug harder on your nipple before laving the ache with his tongue while his hand palms your other breast, playing mercilessly with the nipple until your back is arching off the mattress, eyes rolling back.

His hand falls away from your breast, and you nearly squeak in indignation until the feel of his calloused fingers slides between your thighs. Fingers dig into the stretchy material of your shorts, your own hands trailing down to free your body of the material. Jake groans, watching you.

“I knew you weren’t wearing any panties.”

“Never do.”

You’ve never given it much thought, but if you had to imagine heaven, this would be it. A sunlit morning, tangled sheets, gentle words, rough hands. An endless loop of intimate moments, of vulnerable confessions, of whispered promises, of sex so intense your mind fractures and pieces itself back together. Your souls touch, they echo across countless lifetimes.

Jake’s thumb teases your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles that make your legs spasm every time the callous on the side of his thumb grazes the bud of nerves, lighting up every nerve ending in your body like a firework show.

You attempt to tug him closer, to shift your hips forward, to add more pressure, to silently ask him to go faster. God, please go faster. But he doesn't oblige. Rather, he pulls your hands off his body and locks them into an inescapable hold above your head, pinned against the pillows — a silent demand to not rush him, to let him take his time. A silent promise to make it worth your while.

When his thumb finds your clit again it's an even softer touch — a whisper rather than steady contact. And somehow, somehow that barely there touch, that torturously reserved brush of his thumb has your eyes flying wide and your back arching off the bed so intensely your breath lodges in your throat.

You tug, trying to get your wrists free, the demand to pull him closer nearly short-circuiting your brain, but his hold on them doesn't budge.

"Mmm, how do you want to come, honey?" He hums against your skin, biting down on the hickey he's leaving on the swell of your breast before moving his attention to the other one. His thumb keeps a teasing pace on your clit, giving you more pressure and easing off just when the pressure in your lower belly begins to build.

Up, up, up and then gone.

So close, so so close, and then poof.

Gone.

His tongue drags across your nipple before he pulls back and blows a cool breath of air across the glistening nerves, sending a rush of goosebumps across your entire body.

His thumb adds a little more pressure, a little more friction, and you’re sure you might cry. You might actually cry. It feels so good.

Your entire body is tense, nearly about to hit that peak when he pulls his thumb away again.

Your head slams back against the bed, frustration flooding your veins. Your orgasm is trying to break free, to claw its way out of you. Like water receding from the shore before a tsunami, the air in your lungs is gone, the control over your shaking legs, your shaking arms, your shaking hands — towed away from you.

He sucks on your nipple hard enough to fling white dots over your vision like confetti, and even now, you can feel the haughty smile tugging at his lips as he pulls back to watch you writhe under him because he knows, he knows you're too far gone to answer him.

"Like this?" he slides a finger into you and you nearly shatter. Nearly, nearly, nearly. Please.

You can't breathe. You can't think. You can't respond. You shake your head and tug your wrists feebly. You want him. You want him.

He adds another finger and you moan so loud it echoes back to you.

He curses, pulls his fingers away, and as you nearly break into hysterics at the loss of contact, at the loss of the climax that was so close you could nearly taste the endorphins on your tongue, he releases your wrists and wraps your legs around his hips.

"No. No sweet girl, you're going to come with my cock buried deep in your pretty pussy." His words are a promise against your ear and finally, finally he thrusts into you as he murmurs against your lips. "Come on my cock, baby. Let me see how fucking gorgeous you are when you come on my cock."

It's instantaneous. The tsunami hits with the first thrust of his hips and your throat burns with the scream that rips through your room. It's nearly a sob — a sob of relief, a sob of ecstasy, a sob of pure pleasure.

Every nerve in your body is a live wire, lighting up with the kind of mind numbing sensation that pulls you down so deep you can't process anything other than the feel of the waves. Like you’re just under the surface of the ocean, being pulled along with each rise and crash of the tide.

And then you blink and see the brilliant sunlight coaxing you back toward the surface, back to the air, back to reality. And it's only when you break the surface and your lungs unfreeze, helplessly tasting your first breath of air since they froze in your chest, that you realize the sun has been shrouded by a passing storm cloud, and the light, that brilliant light that brought you back is still here, radiating from the man on top of you. His face is nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his hips reaching a crescendo that sends another aftershock of pleasure flooding up your spine and he buries himself deep inside of you and stills, the heat of his climax pulsing inside of you, sliding down your thighs.

The room is silent other than your heavy breathing. Your fingers card through his hair, his lips grazing your collarbones. It’s only when your breathing steadies and your body completely relaxes that Jake scoops you up and heads into the shower.

“Ask the sunflower who she used to be, she will tell you she was the mortal who fell in love with me.” He hums.

Your head rests lazily on his shoulder, the warm spray hitting your back. This was the perks of waking with the sun. There’s no rush. Rough fingers trail up and down your spine. He didn’t need to get in the shower again, but he knows it’s a comfort.

“I think if I gave you my heart you’d treat it tenderly.” You whisper into his skin.

“Icarus,”

Meeting his gaze, your breath catches. Jake’s looking at you with such devotion, total adoration. There is no questioning how he feels for you. You know without a second thought that he’d go to the end of the world for you. Smiling softly, you push up on your toes, lips meshing softly with his.

It’s a Sunny afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky. A perfect day for flying. You and the rest of the dagger squad are sitting around the empty classroom. It’s a Friday, the last day of the month, and something in your veins sings. Turning to look when you hear approaching footsteps, your eyebrows raise at the devious look written all over Maverick’s face.

“Who’s up for a dogfight?”

You turn to meet your wingman’s excited gaze. In the end it’s always you and Coyote up against Rooster and Hangman. Nine times out of ten, you come out on top. Maverick is barking out instructions as you make your way to Javy. But you pause, brows furrowing when Mav repeats his words. Teams are being split up. Suddenly you’re looking into familiar sea glass eyes. A crooked grin taking up his face.

“Looks like I’m your wingman, Icarus.”

There’s no hiding your smile. When was the last time you had flown with Jake? When you were both stationed in Lemoore. God, that was right after you graduated Top Gun.

“You ready to win for once?”

“Ouch,” Rooster says appearing next to you. “That hurt.”

You snort, turning to Javy, his hand already out for your secret handshake. “See you up there.”

“See you up there.” You turn to Rooster with a grin. “Fights on.”

Maverick always makes the four of you go last. It’s a training exercise, it’s not supposed to be fun. When you love doing what you’re doing, and love the people you’re doing it with, how could it not be fun? You’re all so competitive too, so it makes it easier.

Up in the air, head in the clouds surrounded by golden sunlight, Jake’s voice in your ear — you’re right where you’re meant to be. A dynamite duo, the both of you falling into place like you’ve never been separated. Coyote gets marked first, and you can’t help your wince. Better him than you. Rooster’s pulling out all the stops, but he’s flying like he’s forgotten who his wingman is, and who’s team he’s on.

“That’s a kill.”

You giggle at the smirk in Jake’s voice. Can only picture the annoyance that decorates Rooster’s brow. Why Jake got under his skin so much, you didn’t know. They’ve gotten better, but it's still funny from time to time. You look over when Jake appears next to you, he nods, motioning for you to head back to base.

It’s a bird strike.

There are too many voices raging in your head, trying to be heard over the excessive blaring of alarms. It’s not your first time, the left engine is out. It’s fine. You know what to do. Jake’s voice echoes in your ears when you go to start the right engine. It’s on fire.

You’re burning in the sky. It’s fine. You’re cool, calm and collected. Until you eject and your parachute isn’t working. It’s not fucking opening. You tug and tug only to get the same result. If you make it out alive, you’ll never be able to fly again. It’s the first time you’ve ever taken your callsign to heart. Icarus. Would Apollo really let you fall? Catch fire by the very sun that he pulls across the sky? Would he stand by and watch as the wax melted from your wings?

You remember the poem your mother used to read to you. About how Icarus laughed as he fell. The sun painted everything in shades of gold. He was the center of the fire. Triumphant in his fall, even though he should be soaring. Death breathed burning kisses, blazing trails down your back. Your screams go lost in the wind. Pulling and pulling you could not bring yourself to laugh. Your Apollo would never let this happen to you. Images of Jake and the life you have, the future you want flash before your eyes. Your eyes meet the sun, and you feel its warmth. You know what it was like to fly, and now you know what it was like to fall.

One more time, one more tug. Your breaths are short, eyes glued to the ground that is coming up fast. One more tug. With all the strength you have, you pull, and by some miracle, the parachute opens.

Tilting your head back, eyes on the sun, you can’t help but laugh.

You can tell you’re in a hospital by the starile air. Your body aches, but at least you know you’re alive. You can hear the heart monitor, the steady beeping. But the sound of your name catches your attention. Jake’s sitting beside the bed, your hand wrapped up in both of his, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.

“— take her away from me. I wouldn’t survive.”

This is something you shouldn’t be listening in on. Jake talking to a higher power, about you of all things. You flex your fingers wrapped up with his, letting him know you’re awake.

“Fuck, honey,” he says as your eyes open. “You scared me.”

“Scared you? I lived up to my callsign, Seresin.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

You cocked your head, brows furrowing. “Wait so long for what?”

“I watched you fall, Icarus. Why did you wait so long to pull the shute?”

“I-I didn’t. The parachute malfunctioned, Jake. I can’t tell you how many times I pulled on it before it finally gave.”

Jake shakes his head, grip tightening on you. “Are you telling me I could’ve lost you?”

You smile, pulling your hand free to trail your fingers along his chain, thumbing over the rising sun. “I don’t think he would’ve let me fall.”

“Who?”

“Apollo.” You say, meeting his eyes. “He let his own Icarus fall, I don’t think he could do it a second time. I think he knew how much I needed my Apollo.”

He doesn’t say anything, eyes closing when your hand cups his cheek, five o’clock shadow rough against your palm. Your heart breaks when a tear falls from his eye. Pulling him to you, your lips clash with his, clumsily reminding him that you’re right here.

“I love you, you can’t leave me.”

As if. You couldn’t leave him if you tried. Drawn to him always. He’s the reason you're alive, you’re sure of it. So you smile, leaning in to kiss him once more.

“I love you too.”

#jake hangman Seresin x reader #jake hangman Seresin x you #jake Seresin x reader #jake Seresin x you #hangman Seresin x reader #hangman Seresin x you #jake seresin smut #jake hangman fic #jake Seresin one shot #top gun: maverick fanfic

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siremasterlawrence · 3 months

Text

The Haunted Cabin

Part 1

Stephen walks in to the main hall of a crack inducing creeping of a strange haunted of an old cabin out in the woods that he found to take a break.

The cabin swings cold with a freezing sheer shivering through that is at an all time high and a touch would send me up to his room for the impact

The light switch flips up as the lighting up the room with a flood of yellow soaring in to the room and everywhere covering up his face.

He places on hand on the rail and the other on the wall as I trace mu stepping up on to the top of the staircase and he is in love.He enters the bedroom of the cabin with a sudden urge.

The door slams shut as without a mention of a second thought his clothes rip off of his body stripping off of him and they fall to the ground.

He stood half naked with the exception of his underpants embracing the moon light shining on him and he so sexy because I had to have him.

Staring in the mirror a spirit of point glows up in an orb shape floating in front of him as he is spinning around of his body and it is only getting brighter.

The spirit floats upward in to the sky both of eyes are flowing through the sky spinning it and he is causing him to have a migraine as things get worse.

The room grows dimmer with a shade of a deep sea of darkness blanketing on the roof of the ceiling and a carpet of power flushes in to the room.

He is stopping standing till because he is truly unable to move as all his focus is left staring upward at it and a little at a time something is off.

The orb sucks up draining him of his ghostly essence balls of spiritual energy shooting out in to the sky and everything goes hay wire.

Stephen’s eyes close with the scene his bod collapses to the ground, head spinning and body is aching so sharply intense with utter pain.

He began to shake when all goes dark a force field overtakes his body and his body floats in to the air right under the magical ball.

The energy bounces off them like a force field zooming in the lights go off on like a ray of light and burning so bright with every inch of it.

The ball of other worldly magic zips down in of him hitting the sweet spot and like a dead puppet came to life standing tall mindlessly and obedient.

“Mmmmm! God! This stench of his body my scent is perfection. This booty is so full, so tight with massive muscles.” I say walking to lay on his bed.

“I am going to enjoy this flesh for as long as I want but for tonight let’s plan the rest of his life.” He smirks a bit inside not able to admit he likes this feeling.

“Fuck yeah!” I add.

Part 2

Rolling off of his bed rising to his feet as he is walking away from the room and opening his bedroom door in to the hallway as I exit his space.

The door to Robbie’s space creeks loudly in to the room bouncing off of the walls side to side and hit his ears as he woke up from a heavy slumber.

He sighs turning to face me as his eyes roll up in to the air and his scent rises in to the air when he places his hand behind his arms showcasing his armpits.

“Hey cousin! What’s going on here?”

“Not much cousins”

“How about I join you?”

“Wait! Bro we are cousins “

“So what? You are hot”

“Um….you are acting strange “

“I am feeling like myself “

“Spread those legs”

“Uuuugggghhhhh! STOP!”

“Fuck off! Why should I?”

“I love you “

“Hell no! Ugh!”

“Will you let me fuck you?”

“No….yes”

“Yyyeeessss”

Part 3

“Great he got to you too “

“Yes bros”

“My body is so sweaty “

“All three of my bodies “

“Stephen is burly hot”

“Robbie is pocket build hot “

“Colton burning up “

“Mmmmm”

“Everyone lick each others arm pits”

“mmmmm”

“Oh Master”

“We are your possession “

“mere items”

“puppets “

“wield us”

“let’s us be”

“your shield and buckler”

“FUCK”

The end

#stephen amell #robbie amell #colton haynes #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #ghost

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awingedinsect · 11 days

Text

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 10

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: cursing, alcohol use, Vessel is that bitch. Minor character death

“What do you think of my gift?”

Vessel head is bowed. He can feel the mark on his forehead flickering, burning; carving his flesh over and over.

“It’s beautiful.” He says.

He can feel the earth beneath his knees. What was once a blank plane is now something rich and almost real, a dark forest that creeks and twists with ancient power. It’s serene.

There’s a black cloak on his shoulders, the hood draped over his head. Another gift.

He looks up slowly, eyes scanning the trees as they whisper to him.

“Do you have a form?” He asks, hands clamped to his knees. “Can I see you?”

There’s a silence.

“I am something beyond sight.” The forest says. “I am a force, a saturation of thought. Any form I take does no justice to my entirety, nor any name, to what I am. Though to you, I am something you have needed since first you opened your eyes.”

Vessel feels something cold along his spine, slithering over his skin and dragging delicately like a mothers touch.

“…I believe you know my name.”

“Sleep.” Vessel whispers.

There’s a weight over his face. It turns his vision to slits as he looks up, feeling the touch drag along his shoulders and to his chest. His breath grows deeper as he feels his chin tilt up. “I am the author of your dreams. And you are the catalyst of my hunger. Worship.”

His lips part slowly, watching as his colorless surroundings seep fog into the little clearing until it rises up past his eyes. There’s a form in the haze; a singular bit of color that splits into six pieces that slowly gather before him.

Six glowing slanted eyes bore into him.

“Be my voice.”

When he looks down, he sees his arms covered in ash. His hands tremor and climb up over himself, admiring the palette of the trees as it bathes his skin.

“Does it please you to dress me like your home?” He asks. “…Why do I have a new face?”

“This place is what you make it, not me.” The eyes say, trailing over Vessel’s body. “The mask, is a sacrament of your surrender. You don’t need a face, only a mouth. And what is not necessary is not shown. Did you ask them to wear the masks?”

“…yes.”

“Is it almost time?”

“…yes.”

“Then stand, Vessel.” The trees twist and spread into four corners around him, the canopies spreading black and consuming above. He gets to his feet, setting the empty glass he finds in his hand on a table.

“Give your voice to me.”

He walks through the wooden door and opens it into a hallway, feeling the lights and the fog and the crowd all beckoning him. His cloak flows behind him and he reaches up, adjusting the mask one last time before mounting the stairs.

Worship. He thinks, unsure of what it truly means.

Worship.

He steps over wires, brain sloshing a bit more than it ought to be. But he’s truly not sure he could have gotten on stage at all without a bit of liquid courage. II is there, behind the drums. IV stands quiet and still with his guitar, arm free of the sling just for the occasion; it’s obvious how happy he is to be reunited with his instrument.

Vessel’s eyes move to III, dragging over him slowly as he makes his way across the stage. He didn’t talk much before the show, which was probably for the better anyway, if not a little concerning. He had hardly protested when the idea of the masks came up; something Vessel did not expect. Although if only one of them hid their face it might seem a little strange to the hundred or so people gathered in this tent to witness a mostly unknown band with a completely unknown name.

He wanders to the mic stand.

There’s a lot of eyes. More eyes than he had on him the first time. He’s safer this time, for sure; the paint, the mask, the hood… these things come together in a concoction free of normalcy and full of interest that has practically nothing to do with who he actually is beneath. All they want is a show, not him. But even with that thought he can’t look up.

There is a single pair of eyes he wants on him tonight and it’s not in the bloody crowd.

He pulls the mic of the stand and wanders off, trailing the chord head bowed. Can they tell he’s nervous? He prowls slowly as the music starts, looking down at himself bathed in the pale lights. The paint is honestly half-assed; splotchy and missing a whole few centimeters between his jeans and hips, displaying a glaring reminder of how rarely he sees the sun.

Whatever.

He picks up a water bottle and takes a small sip, before twisting the cap back on and just dropping it on the stage floor. He can practically hear III’s anger, and he can’t help but smile a little.

His lips hover over the mic, parting slowly.

“And I’ll see you when the wrath comes…”

“Do you have any songs you wanna add to the set, Vess?” II had asked. He sat with a pad and pencil on the couch. “That song you played at the bar, maybe?”

“Knocking on your bedroom door with money…”

“…actually, I’ve kinda been writing a new one.” He said, fingers twitching at his sides. “…I was gonna run it by you guys at practice, see what you think.”

“Building you a kingdom…” Vessel’s voice is low. Breathy. It draws a few screams from the crowd, something that does nothing to put out the fire simmering in his chest. God, it’s so much easier. He’s just a mouth, and they're just ears. And whether he understands it or not there’s a god who approves of that arrangement enough to make him promises he can’t begin to understand.

He glances at III, heart lurching when he sees the bassist strumming intently to his words.

“Dripping from the open mouth. I’ll show you what you look like…”

Both hand graze the mic, caressing the chord like his heart isn’t beating at twice its usual pace. “…from the inside.”

He steps up to the front of the stage, now casting a brief glance at all the sets of cold eyes now warming up as they watch him. It’s euphoric. Interesting. And it’s enough to make his back sticky with sweat.

“And I’ll see you when the wrath comes around.”

When the breakdown hits him, he can’t help but move. The sound erupts in the little tent like a call to a whole new plane of being and he closes his eyes, jumping side to side on the stage as the crowd reaches and roars for that plane. That Eden. His bandmates don’t hold back either, pouring their hearts through their fingers and giving everything they have to offer. And when he sees III actually kicking the air to the beat his face splits with a glistening smile.

He loves this.

Suddenly his head flares with a shooting pain. He doubles over, hands reaching up with the mic still trembling in his hold. He gasps and scrunches his eyes as a thought loud enough to terrify him seeps through the cracks of his skull;

“Don’t be driven to distraction. I will build you a kingdom, so long as you know to who you belong.”

His chin wobbles, a line of spit falling from his glossy lips. “Let’s load the gun.” He whispers below the music. “Load the gun…”

A wicked laugh falls out of his mouth as he straightens, forcing the pain deeper and raising his hands in the air. He ignores the wet tracks making their way down his face. He just smiles and bows his head, feeling the music flood his fucking form.

He floats on the brief silence as the song closes, chest heaving. It’s an intense quiet. Like a grave, at the bottom of the sea.

Then noise thunders into his ears like breaking waves.

They’re ecstatic; screaming and clapping and demanding more, maybe more moved than he is. He can’t believe it. Do they really like him- the music, that much?

He suddenly feels very awkward, aware of how lost he’d gotten and how insane he must have looked. He just stands there, stiff and still with a mic in his hands.

He gives them a little nod of thanks and retreats back as the next song starts up; one of II’s own.

• • •

Vessel’s still in his costume.

He feels a little silly, standing around in almost plain sight behind the tent. Although he’s sure that a lanky guy in paint and a mask isn’t necessarily the strangest nor most exciting thing to see at this festival.

He sits on the rigging, swinging his socked feet and looking up at the sky as dusk sets in over the chaos. He likes being secluded.

He takes a sip of his beer.

“That was insane.” IV says, pulling his mask off and leaning back against the structure. He drops his head back, swiping his face with his still-weak arm propped up on his guitar, and pops the cap off his own beer with a keychain. “God, I’m tired.” He says, taking a swig. “You?”

“…where’s III?” Vessel asks, voice a little quiet. He’s pretty drained after all that, body quite literally dripping with sweat. IV shrugs. “Off getting lit, most likely.” He says. “There’s plenty more shows to watch before the nights over, and he’ll probably be in as many pits as possible.”

“…and II?”

“Meeting up with some friends, I think.” IV rolls his head over, lashes flickering up at Vessel as he takes another sip of his drink. “What are you wanting to do, Vess?”

Before he can answer, II comes around the tent with a much taller man in tow. Vessel straightens, clearing his throat and blinking behind the mask. He wasn’t expecting company.

“Vessel! I want you to meet someone.” II says, pulling the guy by the arm. He’s a brunette, with soft features and a flushed, smiling face. He’s probably hit up a few drink stands himself tonight.

“Matt, Vessel.” II says, dropping the stranger in front of him. “Vessel, Matt.”

“Nice to meet you,” Vessel says, considering offering his hand but opting to just clutch his beer awkwardly between his knees. “Drummer, right?”

“Likewise!” Matthew says, still smiling wide as he shoves his hands in his jean pockets. “And yep, that’s me. Listen, man, I managed to watch your set- that was fuckin brilliant. Brilliant.” His eyes suddenly flick up and down Vessel’s body, smile quirking thoughtfully. “I like your style.”

If it weren’t for the mask, Vessel’s pretty sure his blush would be record breaking. But he just sits there instead, nodding and tugging his mouth into an award straight line of an expression that says “thanks” in the most casual way he can muster.

He fails a bit.

“What’dya think of the new name, Matt?” II asks, stealing the beer from IV’s hand and taking a long sip. “Does it suit us?”

“no man, it’s sick.” Matt says, turning to his friend, though his eyes are always just a fraction away from Vessel. “Though honestly, can’t believe you changed it! But ‘Sleep Token’ has a hell of a ring.”

IV snags his drink back from II. “Well, we didn’t exactly want to go down as the band that played before the damn crisis of the year happened.” He says. “Besides, it was time for a new vibe. Vessel actually came up with it.”

At the mention of the Blacklit room, Vessel’s body tenses. But he’s quickly distracted once more as Matt turns to him, grinning. “Oh really? What was the inspiration, then? Or does it just sound cool.”

“Um, both… I guess.” He smiles. “I mean, We all need Sleep, right?”

They all laugh a little good naturally, eyes gleaming as the dark sets in.

“Well,” Matt says, rifling through his back pocket and producing a pen and napkin. He starts scribbling it, eyes drifting to Vessel midway with a small smile. “If you ever wanna tell me more about it.”

He sets the napkin down on the rigging besides Vessel, casually dropping his pen back in his pocket.

Vessel swears he catches a wink before Matt turns back to II.

“Man, your percussions were wild. What was the name of that second song? Halfway through I swear…”

Vessel stops listening, eyes flicking down to the napkin as his fingers curl around it. There’s a little flutter in his chest, a smile fast growing on his lips as he unfolds it just enough to see the beginning of an area code.

He shoves it into his pocket, eyes twinkling under the mask and turning to IV.

IV takes a sip of his beer and offers him a small thumbs-up.

That night they all crash immediately. II, IV and of course III. After about twenty minutes of searching they managed to find the bassist in a mosh pit, screaming and shoving every person in sight until the whole thing nearly required security. He was wasted, and fell asleep against the backseat window with II on his shoulder as IV navigated them through traffic. Vessel sat shotgun, blinking away the alcohol with his hands in his lap, mask, robe and paint getting second-looks from other cars.

He thought he looked sick.

The next day they did nothing but practice until 5:00pm, when II suggested they all go get sandwiches. They did. And when they got home, the sun was already setting.

They all got ready for an early night.

“Anyone wanna watch some tv?” II asks, wandering out of his room in an oversized shirt and boxers. III is already digging through the fridge again, and II ducks under his arm, pulling out a beer before disappearing in the living room.

Vessel is leaning against the kitchen counter, a yawn trapped in his mouth while IV downs a glass of water before filling it up a second time for the singer.

“I’m good,” Vessel says after II, checking the clock on the wall. He nods his thanks at IV and sips the glass he’s handed. “I’m fuckin beat. Guess I didn’t sleep all that great last night.”

III is hauling a half-eaten banana pudding into his room, not bothering to say anything at all as he retires for the night.

IV looks at Vessel.

“You know, you do look off.” He says. “You feeling alright, bruv? …I heard you get sick last night.”

“What?” Vessel rubs his eyes. “Me? I…“

A horrified scream suddenly fills the house, turning his blood to ice.

“What the fuck-!“ III speeds out of his room, charging down the hallway to get into the living room where Vessel and IV have already gathered.

They find II on the couch, jaw dropped and wide eyes filled with the reflection of the tv.

“…found dead early this morning, in an abandoned home three blocks from his apartment.”

Vessel covers his mouth, a choked sound leaving him as he sees the face on the screen.

No way.

III and IV are already holding II, trying to quiet his cries. But Vessel feels empty. Devoid of reaction or even the ability to move.

“The man has been identified as Matthew Todd, a 22 year old college student.”

Tags: @thevenomousseprent @moonlit-valkyrie @mmendez0124 @yourviscera @rain-down-on-me @xzero01

#vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token art #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iii #art #sleep token #sleep token fanart #sleep token ii #vessel art #fanfic #sleep token iii fanfiction #jennifer’s body au

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thedirtybeanlife · 10 months

Text

Childhood Renovations Pt. 1

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

The Living Room:

Summary: Simon returns to his childhood home when sent off base for mandatory leave.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Childhood trauma, Cursing, Abuse, Drinking, Blood, Female Reader

He was going back to a place he'd hoped he would never see again. His old childhood home. A place that held every bad memory he had ever faced. The driveway looked the same, except for the overgrown weeds and grass. The front door, painted a dark red, stared menacingly at him as he exited the truck. This was it. All his adult life he had avoided even driving down the street, yet here he stood, a truck bed holding his belongings in a beat up duffle bag. His family had been murdered over twenty years ago, when he was freshly eighteen and had joined the British Military. His father was a horrible, nasty, abusive man who had no respect for anyone, not even himself. His mother, a delightful, loving soul who would do anything for anyone at the drop of a hat. His older brother, Tommy, who used to terrorize him with that God awful skull mask as a kid. They were gone now. It was just him and this house that knew the horror that had been experienced over the years.

The house had been his since his parents and brother died, he just avoided it. Why subject himself to such torture when he didn't need to? His boss had sent him on a mandatory leave as he had been pushing himself too hard. He never left base, always on a mission. When he was alone, there was no Simon Riley that used to live here, only a ghost of a man. A killer. A slave to his job. He wasn't meant to be here. He could already feel the clammy hands of his traumatic past gripping him in an unwanted hug. He grabs his duffle bag full of his very little belongings and slowly approaches the dark red door.

Dark red like the blood he sees every time he closes his eyes. From his childhood, his job. He swore to himself he would never look at this house again, yet here he was, unlocking the door and swinging it open with a loud creek. He walks inside and looks around at the dusty furniture. Everything looked the same just as it did when he was little, when he'd hide in his room to escape his mothers cries and his fathers wrath. To escape his brothers torment with that fucking mask, the one he now wore on every mission. He places his bag on the dusty, beige sofa and walks over to the wall, flipping the light switch.

Right. The breaker.

He walks down the hall and stops in his tracks as his eyes land on his old bedroom door, the wood nearly falling off the hinges from how many times it had been slammed open by his drunken father or his angry teen self. He swallows thickly at the memories and continues until he reaches the breaker at the end of the hall. He uses the flashlight on his outdated, cracked phone, shining the dull light on the panel as he flips a few switches, allowing the electric currents to flow through the house. The living room light is bright compared to the dark and dingy hallway. He makes his way back to the living room and looks around once more, his eyes landing on the dark spots that trail to the large coat closet. The closet his dead family members had been stuffed in and found three days after they had been murdered when he returned home after only his third mission as a Sergeant.

Simon doesn't give it another glance. The large, blonde haired man makes his way into the kitchen. His mothers sanctuary, as she called it one night as they sat up late in the night at the broken kitchen table after his first mission (his father had flipped it over in a drunken rage).

He sighs and looks away, running his large, scarred hand run along the splintered wood where she had sat that night, "I'm so sorry, Mama. I wish I had become a man when you needed me most," his voice is strained and full of emotion; a rarity for the man.

Simon refuses to go into any of the bedrooms of the one story home. The couch would have to do for the night, he decides as he pulls out his phone and sits on the torn and stained couch. It still reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap beer. He wondered if that's what he used to smell like as a young child. The thought blows over and he looks down at his now lit up phone screen, the cracked glass a second nature to him as he reads the screen.

5 missed calls from (Y/N).

He hadn't told his fiance that he was on leave, or that he was returning to his childhood home. She would never understand. He presses the call button anyway. It only rings out once before she answers.

"Si? You didn't call on your break. Is everything alright?" (Y/N) had always been an anxious overthinker.

"Sorry, Love. Got caught up in some stuff. Didn't mean to worry you," his Manchester accent is thick.

"Your Captain called me," she trails off, a knowing tone behind her words.

Fuck. He stays silent.

"I'm coming first thing in the morning and we're doing this together, Simon. This isn't something you need to do alone," her voice is soft and filled with love and concern.

"You don't- I can do this alone. There's no need for you to worry about me."

"I'll be there at eight with breakfast. Make sure you eat some dinner and get some rest. I'm not taking no for an answer,"

He smiles for the first time all week, "I love you," he whispers, his eyes closing as he leans his head back

"I love you too. I'll see you in the morning," and with that the call ends, only his breathing and the humming from the overhead light can be heard.

This was going to be hard, but with (Y/N) at his side he knew he would be able to get through it. She was his rock, She always knew the right things to say and do. His lover was the complete opposite of the two men who once lived here. The ones who were murdered and shoved in the closet as a threat to prove he was next. It was his fault they were dead and yet he was still here, sitting directly across from the blood stained wood.

The next morning he's awoken by a soft knock at the door. Simon Groggily gets up and walks over to the dark red door, looking through the small square window before unlocking the door and opening it, looking down at (Y/N) with a warm, grateful smile.

"Pancakes and your favorite coffee," she beams up at him and holds up the two coffees and a bag of food.

She didn't belong here.

She was too pure, and yet he steps aside and lets her waltz in, watching with a nervous gaze as she inspects the room, her gaze falling to the small blood stains. Her eyes dart away and she doesn't mention it.

He sighs quietly in relief as the brunette woman instead walks over and sits on the beat up couch, patting the spot next to her as she places breakfast on the coffee table with a small smile.

"I figured we could start on cleaning the place out when we're done. I brought all of my cleaning supplies," she raises one of her brows as Simon sits next to her, their legs pressed against the other.

"Okay," he says as he reaches for a coffee and takes a small sip of the hot liquid, nodding, "Thank you."

"Of course. I'm here for this entire thing, alright? Every step you take while fixing up this place, I'm right there with you,” she says reassuringly as she rests her small hand on his tattooed forearm, smiling up at him with loving eyes.

He nods and they eat their breakfast while she excitedly tells him all about the past two months while he's been gone for work. Simon had never been a talker, but he was a damn good listener, and Jess seemingly never ran out of words. It made for a perfect combination.

After eating and finishing their coffees, they walk out into the brisk Autumn air to gather all of the cleaning supplies. Simon reaches for a box of trash bags and pauses, his hand hovering over the box.

"I want to tell you stories of each room, both sad and happy. I think you have a right to know," the soldier says after a few moments,"It's just that I don't want to subject you to anything you aren't ready for," he looks over at her where she stands on the other side of her car.

"I mean what I said, Si. I'm here every step of the way, and if telling me your memories is something you feel is necessary, then I'm more than willing to listen to all of them," the short woman says softly with determined eyes, grabbing the bucket full of cleaning supplies and heading back into the house.

Simon nods to himself and takes a deep breath before walking back into the house with a newfound determination to face the years and years of his repressed trauma. With his girl by his side, and as motivated as she was, he had full faith this wouldn't be as hard as he originally thought. Simon walks into the living room to see (Y/N) already dusting things off and placing objects on the coffee table. She grabs a small picture from a drawer in the large cabinet by the dark red front door and looks at it for a moment before placing it gently face down on the coffee table, going back to what she was doing. The man recognizes the picture without even seeing it. He was the one that put it in there years ago, the last time he was here. The bent and worn corners of it give it away.

He looks away quickly.

Simon starts carrying most of the furniture out of the living room and taking it outside to haul it into the bed of his beat up navy blue 1995 Toyota Hilux. Walking back inside, he stops in his tracks as he sees Jess holding a small, round, purple chip in between her fingers.

“He tried to get better for her. He did. His anger just always got the best of him and he'd give up. That's the longest he ever stayed sober. Four months. I’d never seen him so angry like he was when he wasn't drunk.”

Simon’s father was sat on the beige couch in the living room, his mother resting under his arm as it sling around her shoulders in a loving embrace as they watched reruns of some show he didn't know the name of. Tommy was on the phone with one of his girlfriends, gloating about his new computer their father had gotten him fro his birthday. Ever since his dad had stopped drinking and started going to meetings at the nearby, the older man had calmed down. Simon enters the room fully and sits on the green recliner, quietly and stealthily as to not bother anyone with his noise or presence. The young boys mother looks over at him and offers him a warm smile before going back to watching tv.

“Get your homework done, Boy?” his father’s voice rings out, although it's not as loud and filled with bitterness like it normally is.

“Yes, Sir,” Simon replies.

His father hums in acknowledgement and takes another sip of his coffee, his new substitution for the cheap and bitter beer he would normally be drinking. Simon eases down into the chair some, releasing the tension in some of his muscles, not seeing any indicators of an outburst. The young boy silently watches the show on the tv, getting lost in thought as he zones out.

Suddenly a sharp pain buzzes on the left side of his head, “I believe you answer your fucking mother when she's talking to you, you ungrateful piece of shit!” his fathers voice fully snaps him out of his trance, Simons eyes landing at the coffee mug that had hit him in the head, now shattered on the floor beside him.

His eyes meet his mothers scared and worried ones as she tries to diffuse the situation, but it only results in her husband pushing her back down onto the couch as he stands up. The tall man storms over to Simon with a scowl on his face, grabbing the back of his hair and jerking his head to look up at him before throwing a punch at his face. A young Simon lets out a small cry of pain.

“I suggest you get your ass up and clean this mess before I give you something to really cry about. Get the hell up!” His father pulls him up by his hair and shoves him towards the large coat closet where the broom is stored. Hurriedly and shakily, Simon opens the door and grabs the broom, making quick work of sweeping up the shattered glass. He looks over and sees Tommy snickering at his kneeling form, talking to the girl on the phone about it as he laughs. His mother stays silent as she bites the inside of her cheek, not wanting to make it worse.

“Fuck this, and fuck you, little brat. I’m going to go get a drink,” his father grabs his coat and keys, storming out of the house, slamming the dark red door behind him.

His mother quickly scrambles over to her son and gently grabs the small broom and dustpan from his hands, setting it aside and cradling his face in her cold hands. She frowns as she looks at the trail of blood falling from under his hair and down his cheek. He hadn't even noticed it. The small woman grabs a napkin off the coffee table and lightly dabs at the blood on his face. The boy winces.

“Sorry, Love. Just let me wipe it off, yeah?” she whispers, shooting Tommy a sharp look as he quietly laughs at Simon’s pain, making the older teen shut up and go back to his phone call as he faces the other direction. She smoothed his hair down comfortingly as she dabs at the blood, holding the bloodied napkin against the crown of his hair where the blood was coming from.

Simon rests his small hand on his mothers wrist, looking up at her in defeat and sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Mama. It’s all my fault. I never should have left my room. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” the small ten year old begs his mother with tears in his eyes.

“You did nothing wrong, my love. Nothing. Don't blame yourself. It was going to happen eventually. Hold this to your head and I’ll clean up this mess,” she places a soft kiss to his uninjured temple and helps him stand up, ushering him to the bathroom so he can wash it off properly. She cleans up the broken ceramic shards and walks into the kitchen where Tommy is, dumping them in the bin and looking at her eldest son.

“Get your act together, Tom,” is all the middle aged woman says before walking towards the bathroom where she helps Simon bandage the deep gash on the side of his head.

(Y/N) pays attention intently and full of emotion as she listens to her fiancés story, a look of anger and sympathy flashing in his eyes.

“You were just a kid, Simon. How could he- I’m so sorry, Love,” she says as she looks back down at the chip, “Your mother, she seemed like a lovely person,” she says with a small smile as she looks back up at the tall blonde, biting back the anger she feels from the story of his memory.

Simon nods and offers a small smile in return, he walks over and gently grabs the plastic chip from her freshly manicured hand, taking it and squeezing it tightly before throwing it in the trash bag.

“It should've been thrown away a long time ago,” he mumbled before placing a kiss on (Y/N)'s temple, the same spot where the mug had hit him over two decades ago.

A comfortable silence takes over the couple as they exchange a glance and get back to work. (Y/N) empties things out and puts them on the table, and Simon carries the large pieces of furniture out to his truck. They work together in peace, something that Simon hardly ever felt in his eighteen years of living in this house.

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