#gets bored of him and puts him on a shelf yet gets pissed when he gets bored or even god forbid has FUN while waiting around for them

[rintosei]

POST ARGUMENT MOMENTS ; bachira meguru

-> man, i just want a bachira in my life ;-; fem!reader

bachira indulges in the way your body freezes when you see your favorite snacks atop the highest shelf of the kitchen cupboard, a place bachira holds over your head in relation to your height. a silly argument between the two created a silent treatment, and even if it has been just a few hours since your quarrel, you have not shown any signs of willingness to talk to bachira.

with bachira’s biggest trait being petty, he thinks it would be a good idea to place your favorite snacks on the top shelf, where you aren’t able to reach them. he knows you are going to be pissed at him, but he couldn’t help but find it funny to see how you try your best to reach your food.

a snort escapes bachira’s lips without him wanting to, almost choking on the chips he’s currently eating. it turns quickly into a coughing fit; seeing you jump up and down and fail yet again is too much for him. you let out a frustrated sigh as your fingertips merely brushed against the bag of chips you were aiming for, earning bachira a deadly glare.

you stare at bachira’s back, boring holes into him as he hunches up against the kitchen island table to hide his laughter. with your stubborn attitude, you decide to grab a chair from the living room, making yourself tall enough to grab your snacks. instead of carrying the stool across the kitchen, you decide to drag it across the floor, creating an unholy screech loud enough to make even yourself wince (it was supposed to annoy bachira, but it ended up annoying yourself).

bachira only shakes his head in amusement, popping the last chip into his mouth before he crosses you to the bin, patiently waiting for you to climb safely onto the chair and reach toward your bag of chips before he starts shaking it.

you yelp in fright, quickly holding onto the shelf in front of you to prevent yourself from falling. as soon as the "earthquake" stops, you glare at bachira once again, who’s sporting a smug smile on his face.

"do you want me to die?" you yelled, your voice trembling as hard as your hands were shaking. "did you want me to fall or something?"

"oh, so now you’re talking to me?" bachira taunts, crossing his arms in amusement as he watches you calm yourself down. "a second ago, you didn’t want to talk, but now you do."

"that’s because i was on the verge of falling off the chair you were shaking, bachira!" you exclaim in anger. "why would you even do that?"

"hm, it was just a funny thing i had in mind," bachira replies all-too-casually. "plus, all you can do is ask me to stop, and i will."

"never!" you exclaim once again, and when you feel the chair move again, your eyes widen and your foot becomes unstable. "bachira!" you cry out, tiles rushing towards you.

bachira manages to catch you on time, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. "don’t worry, i’m here."

you let out a shaky sigh, your arms tight around bachira’s neck. you turn to look up at bachira, your relieved expression soon turning stormy.

"i hate you so much," you say, but the look on bachira’s face softens your expression. he smiles softly at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

"mm, i know," he says, softly caressing your hair to calm you down. "i’m sorry." you don’t know whether he’s apologizing about his "prank" or their argument; regardless, you accept it, hugging bachira tightly.

"i’m sorry too. i realized that part of it was my fault as well. "i'm sorry for putting all the blame on you." you mumble into bachira’s chest, your voice muffled by his warm shirt.

"mm, we were both in the wrong, and then again, i guess i made the argument worse by walking out on you. i’m sorry for doing that. it was a habit of mine when i was younger," bachira tells you, kissing the top of your head. he slowly guides you to the living room, sits down on the couch, and scoops you up to sit comfortably on his lap.

“oh, wait, my snacks,” you remember, and is about to get up before bachira grabs you around your waist to stop you.

"you can have mine; it’s okay," bachira says softly, turning on the television and clicking on one of their favorite movies to watch.

"thank you." for making up with me as well as the snacks. Those words go unspoken, but bachira understands what you were trying to say.

"anytime, love," he replies softly. you give a soft kiss on bachira’s cheek, relishing the way his cheeks blush a rosy red.

#* ˚ ✦ bllk #bachira meguru #meguru bachira #bachira meguru x reader #bachira meguru x you #meguru bachira x reader #meguru bachira x you #blue lock #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock bachira #blue lock fanfic #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x y/n #bachira meguru x female reader #bachira x you #bachira x reader #bachira x y/n #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk headcanons #bllk bachira #bllk fluff #bllk scenarios #bllk imagines

[mydarllinglover]

Alone || Make up, Don’t Break Up

Previous

Natalia had hid away in the nursey for the rest of the day, it had been set up a couple of months ago, Rosita had taken over helping, Aaron helped where he could, but he was still managing taking care of Gracie as well as the loss of his arm.

She had pulled out all their clothes, deciding to reorganise it by colour, for each twin, to be put away in their separate drawers

This was probably her fifth time doing this, but she couldn't help it, when Natalia was bored with herself, had quiet time, or couldn't sleep, she found herself in here doing random chores, anything for a distraction, reminding herself that the twins were alive, and would be here any day, she'd managed to keep them alive, unlike the same nightmare that resurfaced every time she went to sleep, by herself.

The reason Natalia had become so attached to sleeping beside Daryl, when they were friends, was because she found that he had stopped her bad dreams, he didn't make her afraid, even in her sleep.

They were back in his absence and with the pregnancy, they had become even more vivid, even more real, like she was back in that house, back with them, killing them on repeat, killing her family over and over, like a horror version of groundhog day.

She paused her humming of eyes without a face, when she heard the front door open, it must be Evie coming home for bed, it was dark out.

No other sounds came except for the door, which was unusual, because even though Evie claimed to no longer be a child, because she had responsibilities and she was nine, now, she still bounded up the stairs rather loudly, every single time.

"Eves?" Natalia called.

She looked over her shoulder at the slightly open door, Daryl was stood there, leaning against the doorframe.

"Jude asked if they could have a sleepover, said it was fine, even though she didn't wanna leave you." He told her. "Can go get her if my word ain't good enough."

He was still pissed.

"No, it's fine." She turned back around, finishing up her task.

Daryl took a slow step into the room, he'd barely come in here, just let Natalia get on with it, considering she berated him the last time he put something in the wrong place.

"Looks nice." He commented, looking at the small frame on a shelf, containing a picture of Carl, Natalia, Judith and Sully, which was took on the porch steps of the Grimes house, Rick had forced them into smiling for a "Family photo" as he claimed that sometimes Natalia felt like his own kid.

"Mhm." She hummed, putting all her focus into the clothes, so far she'd been given outfits all the way up until they were six, when she shared the gender, the communities were quick to pass over hand me downs so she'd never have to worry about finding clothes to fit them, the collection seemed to grow after every drop off trade.

"Nat." He walked further into the room.

"Hm?"

"Bought the Mac n Cheese." He said, after a moment of thought.

She looked up at him, seeing the contents in a tub that looked like it could feed a family of four.

He watched her debate whether to accept it or not, but then finally caved, taking the tub and yanking the lid off, he handed her a fork before she dove in with her hands.

"'Anks" She murmured between a mouthful of cheesy pasta, topped with bacon bites, just how she liked it.

He sat down beside her, bringing his knees to his chest as he looked at the piles of clothes.

"I'm gonna stay around a bit." Daryl told her.

She paused, before swallowing, nodding slightly.

"Don't have to, if you don't want to be here, I can't force you." She went back to eating. "I'll manage."

"Nah, I want to. I gotta." He said. "They're my kids, I wanna be here for everything, for them. M'sorry for missing all of it. I wanna be a good dad for them."

"You will be." She told him, piling up a forkful of pasta. "I know you will. But, I was thinking, when the girls are a little older, not y'know, new borns" They weren't even born yet. "We'll go out again, start looking for him, and Evie will be older, she's already expecting the best big sister award."

He nodded, looking down, she knew he was disappointed, didn't like the idea of Rick being out there by himself in who knew what state, and what it meant to him to bring his brother back for Michonne. It hurt her to put him through it, she regretted getting pregnant for the countless time, even though she loved her babies unconditionally already.

"Here" she leaned towards him and he followed, kissing her sweetly before accepting the fork of pasta she held out for him, letting her feed him.

"I love ya." He rasped.

"I love you, too, I'm sorry for what I said, I was being a major bitch."

"You ain't gotta do that all the time, I know why ya say shit, I deserve it, when I'm being an asshole." He knew why she always apologised after their arguments, he caught on pretty early on throughout their friendship turned relationship, she didn't know that she was the only one who'd ever apologised to him for the way they treated him, he could handle her angry spouts, it made him feel warm when she took the time to try and make it up to him, no matter if he wasn't even affected by what she said. "What's all this?" Daryl asked, deciding to change the conversation, he wanted to learn about the girls, more, catch up after his time away.

"I'm separating their clothes for each girl, blue and anything in this pile is for B, green and anything in this pile is for A." Natalia explained, pairing up socks. "If we keep them colour coordinated, it'll help tell them apart as well, in case they're y'know, identical. Rick picked the colours, actually"

"A and B, that gonna be their names forever?"

"Well, I've been waiting to ask you about it, but..." She raised her eyebrows, as she paused the organising to have another forkful of mac and cheese.

Daryl let out a huff of air.

"What you wanna call them?" He asked.

"Evie's been pushing two names, that she's adamant on." Natalia shared.

He grunted in reply.

"I know she aint stopped with the Bambi idea, had Judith chanting it when they got back."

"Is it bad that It's kinda grown on me?" Natalia asked, unsure of herself.

"Aint that the movie about the deer who's mom gets shot and he's pals with a skunk?"

"You've seen Bambi?" Natalia grinned, looking up at him.

"Yeah, one of Merle's dealers kids was watching it, had nothing better to do." He shrugged.

Natalia began giggling, holding her bump as her body shook.

"Oh god, I'm gonna pee." She wheezed, covering her face as she attempted to gain composure.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"Nothing, nothing, just thinking about you and Merle watching Bambi, did you cry when the mom died, oh please tell me you cried." She cackled.

"Reminded me of my own ma dying, a little, yeah." He took offense, cutting Natalia's laugh short.

"Oh, right... sorry." She looked away.

"Think we should call B, Bambi. Fits. I like it." He continued the conversation of naming their children.

"You do?"

"Yeah. 'Sides, Evie picked it."

"Okay, so Bambi for B, uh, I kinda like the other name, Daisy."

"Daisy, the flower?"

"Yeah, she picked it cause of the necklace you gave her, a purple daisy. And D like her Daddy."

"Daisy and Bambi, alrigh'" He nodded.

"Now what about middle names?"

"They need them?"

"Yes, Daryl, they need middle names, Evie has a middle name, too."

"She does?"

"Y'know her name is Evelyn Ruth Baker, right?" She squinted at him.

"Oh, always thought of her as just Evie, course "Milo" gave her some oldass name."

"Daryl, Milo was a very good friend of mine who I had to leave in the woods to die."

"Don't change anything." He shrugged.

"And that's why I kissed him before you."

"You what!?" He demanded. "You ain't never told me this before!"

"I wasn't going to deny a man of his dying wish, and it was before I realised I was madly in love with you." She scoffed with an eye roll. "Anyway, what name goes with Bambi?" She moved on, before he got a chance to make her more mad or press the other issue further.

"You tell me." He shrugged again. "I'll like whatever you pick, even though you named yer first kid after a witch." He had to kick some sand back in her own face, Daryl Dixon was not above snarky comments, even at his big age.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked him, he seemed to be on something today.

"You laughed about my mom."

Natalia thought on it for a moment, before it hit her.

"I have one."

"Mhm."

"Elizabeth." She said. "After Beth."

"Bambi Elizabeth Dixon, yeah." He nodded. "What about Daisy?"

"I picked Elizabeth, so you can pick Daisy's." She told him.

He leaned back on his hands as he thought hard about it, Daryl didn't even see the point in having middle names, they only needed their first anyway.

"What about Caroline? Like, for Carol?" He asked.

"You wanna name Daisy after Carol?"

He shrugged.

"She's my best friend."

"Then what am I?" She sounded sort of jealous.

"My wife." He answered.

"Oh, that's it?" She looked down.

"What, that ain't good enough?" He was confused by her sudden change of emotion.

"Nothing... just I thought that I..." She cut herself off covering her face with her hands.

"Are you crying?" Daryl asked, concerned at her stifled sobs that came out of nowhere.

Michonne had warned him about her emotional breakdowns, who had yet to witness them first hand, when she had screamed, cried and broke a plate, because Eugene pointed out the obvious growth of the twins inside of her, lets just say, he was banned from making comments on Natalia's pregnancy until Rosita checked the said comment.

Natalia wiped at her face, getting rid of the tears that were down her face, he'd seen her cry before, but never to this extent, and only because her loved one was dead, not over...random things.

"N-no." She lied. "Just that, clearly I'm not as important to you as you are to me." She looked away as more tears came.

"Nat." He muttered, sitting closer to her. "You're my wife, which means you're the most important person in my entire life. You're at the top of every list, okay, Carol, she's just my friend, same as Michonne, Aaron, Jesus, Rosita, an' the others." He'd be sure to remind them that they did matter to him at some point "But you, you're my whole world, baby, nothing matters if you ain't in it."

"Awe, baby." She squealed, reaching out to hug him, the babies not making it easy for her, but he made it easier by inching closer and hugging her tightly. "Daisy Caroline sounds beautiful."

"You sure?" You sure you ain't gonna cry again? Was his actual question, as he lifted his head from leaning it on hers to look at her.

"Yeah, Bambi Elizabeth and Daisy Caroline. You like them, right?" She asked Daryl.

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sounds good, whatever you want." He assured, he didn't really care what their names were, as long as Natalia liked them, it was good enough for him. "Think we should get you to bed."

"And you, right?" She didn't know if she could bare another sleepless night without him.

"'Course and me." He told her, standing up from the carpeted floor, letting out a low groan as his knees cracked.

"Alright, Grandpa." Natalia joked, waiting for him to help her up.

"Watch it." Daryl said, pointedly, taking hold of her hands to hoist the pregnant woman up. "Ma baby girls ain't even here yet, an' Evie's not even ten, ain't no dating until she's twenty-one."

"Twenty-one?" She laughed.

"You think that's funny? You old enough to drink, legally, you old enough to make your own decisions."

"Says the man who led an eighteen year old to a moonshine cabin so she could have her first sip of alcohol."

"Her dad just died, I ain't going nowhere. Different times."

"Okay, officer daddy Daryl." Natalia saluted with one hand, the other supported her large tummy as she waddled out of the room.

"I like the sound of that." He smirked at her.

"Don't give me that look, you had your chance months ago, I'm scared anything now will send me into Labour."

"Ain't that a good thing?" His wolfish expression dropped, an annoyed one taking place.

"No." She looked over her shoulder at him, his hands were on her hips, guiding her into the direction of their room, the one he hadn't slept in, in a long time. "I'm letting them come on their own time, whenever they want, best chance of not needing a C-Section."

"You'd make it through though, right?" Daryl asked, concern written all over his face as he opened their door. "Siddiq's prepared for that?"

"Daryl, hey, yeah, of course he is" She comforted him, taking his hands and sitting on the bed. "It's just... y'know, a personal preference of not being cut open. But it's handled and everything's gonna be fine, he's prepped for everything that could and might happen, you ain't the only one who's hard to kill." She pulled him down to sit down beside her. "Here, she's a kicker." She placed his hand on the right side of her belly, where it was moving around.

"Which one's this?" He asked, feeling the tiny attack on his palm, his voice was low, full of wonderment and intrigue.

"That's Daisy, she's always active, this one here, she's a little sleeper, I get worried sometimes by how still she is." Natalia prodded around on her left side, trying to get Bambi to move. "You can talk to them if you want, they can hear you."

"Nah, that looks stupid." He grumbled, though he was trying to keep his voice gentle, just in case, as he rubbed her belly.

"Daryl, you're their father, they're gonna want to learn their dad's voice. I talk to them all the time."

"About what?" He looked up at her.

"Anything" she shrugged "What I'm doing, how I'm feeling, I talk to them about Alexandria, and The Hilltop, and The Kingdom, about Rick and Michonne, Glenn and Maggie, Beth, Carl, everyone. I talk to them about the prison, and the road, and my life before this, and their sisters, both of them... and I talk about you a lot, when you're not here, and I'm by myself, when I'm missing you, but how you're out there and what you're doing, and I'm proud, and also that I'm glad that you're trying."

Daryl bowed his head, ashamed that he hadn't made progress in his hunt for any signs of Rick, but also that he had abandoned Natalia, and the girls.

"I'm sorry." He rasped, his eyes were becoming blurry as he thought about how bad of a father he was being, not only to the twins but to Evie, and then how he was a horrible husband to Natalia. "I'm sorry for being shit to ya, you don't deserve that."

"Hey, look at me." She lifted his head, her hands on his cheeks, she was always good at reading him. "Don't, okay, I know I was mad earlier, I shouldn't of said that stuff, I was annoyed and in the wrong, but I didn't mean it. You're the best husband in the world, and you're already an amazing father to Evie, she loves you, and I know the girls will, too. You're too good for this world, and I can't put into words enough how much I love you, I've waited my whole life for a person like you to come into it, and clearly I know words aren't enough to convince you, because I've been trying for two years, been tryna convince you you're important to me for four, and yet it feels like I've known you an entire lifetime. I was mad because I miss you so much, it's like my whole world stops when you're not in it."

"I ain't gonna leave ya, not again, I swear to ya." He sniffled, dropping his head on her shoulder as his fingers tangled in her hair. "Love ya, so fucking much."

"Hey, Evie might not be lurking around as the language police, but Daisy and Bambi can still hear ya." Natalia teased,  earning a scoff from the man.

"Sorry." He grumbled to the two babies. "Daddy didn' mean tha', S'bad word."

Natalia smiled widely as he spoke to her stomach, playing with his hair, feeling warm at the blush creeping up his neck, embarrassed he was actually doing it.

"Hey, you woke Bambi up." She cheered, feeling the baby move around on her side of the womb, "Keep talking, she must like the sound of your voice."

"Really?" He looked up at her.

"Yes, c'mon."

"Alright." He sighed, trying to think about what to say. "You said you told 'em stories about everything, right?"

"If you're thinking about telling them stories about you and your brother before all this, don't even think about it." She warned, having heard a bunch of the illegal activities they used to get up to.

"Nah, time I fell off a horse, almost died, back at the farm."

Natalia raised her brows, she didn't think she'd heard this one before.

"Go on." She urged. "Girls, just so you know, this was before I met your dad, so anything dumb he did, was out of my hands from preventing."

"Alright." He cleared his throat as Natalia moved back on the bed, laying her head on the pillows as he followed, laying in between her legs, resting his head on his hand whilst the other one rubbed the large bump,  her hand returned to entwine in his messy hair. "When I was out looking for Aunt Carols daughter, her name was Sophia." He told his daughters "Took a horse out, didn't bother asking Hershel, Aunt Maggie's dad, that's when I didn't really like him, though, I shoulda asked, then I woulda known her name was "Nervous Nelly." That's important to the story. So I'm riding this horse around the woods, an' I found her doll in a riverbed, first clue that she was alive, spoiler alert, she weren't. Then, the horse, Nervous Nelly, gets spooked, knocks your dad off, I go flying down this cliff, tumble so hard, I get a damn arrow stuck in my side, head was cut up, the water was stained with ma blood, was looking bad for yer old man." He looked up at Natalia, see if she was listening as well, which she was, though she was trying to work out what actually happened or if he was being dramatic, for the sake of the story, with it being Daryl, there was honestly no telling, with the amount of shit he's been through and surprisingly made it out. "So I drag myself out, and I gotta patch up, using the sleeves of my shirt to tie around the arrow, couldn't just pull it out, that's dangerous, if it were yer momma, bet she woulda, though." She smacked his head in protest. "Wait till I tell ya about the time she got shot, and I hadda save her life."

"So you were at the bottom of this cliff with an arrow in your side?" Natalia pulled him away from his distraction.

"Yeah, right, so I'm thinking about how I'm gonna get back up, track down that horse so I can skin it and- give it a good telling off... but then I hear rustling in the tree's, coulda been an animal, coulda been walkers, anything, so I comb through the river, finding my crossbow before making my way towards climbing the cliff, got nothing but a stick, a crossbow, and a damn doll tucked into my belt."

"Damn, sure sad I missed seeing that." Natalia scoffed. "I'm pregnant, with your kids." She warned, before he could pinch her in retaliation. "Continue with your story."

"Stop interrupting me, lady. Anyway, I manage to get half way through, giving myself a pep talk to get the rest of the way up, then I fall all the way back down, fell so hard, I damn passed out. When I woke up, saw my jackass of a brother, yer uncle Merle, who I thought was dead at the time, cause of yer Uncle Rick, 'Nother story though. Turned out, he was never there in the first place, y'know who were there, walkers, and when I got to my senses, took 'em out, even had to pull the arrow outta my own side to do it, then, patched myself up, gutted a squirrel, got some food in my system, made myself a neat lil necklace and I climbed the damn cliff, all by maself, ain't a single person's help, I got myself back to the farm, they all came running fer me, thought I was a walkers, when they got to me, realised I was still breathing, yer Uncle Rick, he put his gun down, then this woman I used to be friends with, Andrea, son of a bitch shot me in the head, bullet whizzed right past my head." He did the motion. "Grazed me."

"Andrea shot you?" Natalia asked, her brows furrowed. "Knew I was justified in not liking her, bitch."

"Thought we couldn't swear around 'em?" He reminded.

"Daryl, they're babies, they don't know what that means, why did she shoot you?" She interrogated.

"Said it in my story, she stayed at the RV, thought I was a walker and tried to shoot me from the distance, had something to prove, but she missed."

"Too right, she missed. Why'd you never tell me this before?"

"I haven't?"

"Uh, no! I think I'd remember if you did!"

"Geez, must've slipped my mind, ain't that big of a deal." He shrugged, moving away from out of the hold from between her legs and settling his head on his pillows, beside her.

"Daryl, you got shot, how is that not a big deal?"

"I didn't die, right c'mon, bed time, you gotta get as much sleep as ya can, those bags are huge."

He earned a punch in the arm.

"If I knew this would make you way more feisty than usual, I woulda pulled out." Daryl commented, rubbing his bicep.

"Well, you best start practising, cause I ain't going through it again."

"You mean now?" He looked at her, raising his brows.

"No." She shot him down. "I meant what I said earlier, give me two-to-three months."

"Huh?" His voice rose, the usual hoarseness dropping.

"You try pushing at least one thing outta your dick and we'll see how you get on." She told him, turning on her side, nestling her head into the pillow, she had made a small line of pillows to make it more comfortable in bed, for her bump. "What got us in this trouble anyway."

"That's what your body's made ta do." He told her, blowing out the candles that were lit on the bedside tables.

"Go back to sleeping in the woods, asshole."

"C'mon, I was kidding, grateful of ya for popping these two out, but you're way more than that." He spooned her, rubbing her protruding stomach whilst he kissed from her shoulder all the way up to her cheek. "I love ya."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She rolled her eyes, but snuggled into his touch.

Quite a few moments had passed when she listened for his breathing, working out whether he was asleep or not.

"Hey, baby?" She whispered.

"Hm?" He mumbled, his eyes were closed and his chin was balanced on the top of her head.

"You awake?"

"Uh huh."

"I left the mac and cheese in the nursery." She confessed. "Don't wanna attract ants, but if I get up, it's so much harder."

He exhaled sharply, throwing his head back on his own pillows.

"I got it." Daryl told her, getting up from the bed.

"Oh, whilst you're up, we got some cobbler downstairs, Jerry sent it over with a pack of chips, I'm his guinea pig, he's experimenting, oh and grab a stick of cucumber."

"What, you want some slices?"

"No, that's okay, you can just get the whole stick." Natalia smiled up at him. "Thanks baby."

"Yeah, yeah." He shook his head, leaving the bedroom.

When he returned with her requested items, Daryl watched in wonderment how she devoured the food, before munching on the stick of cucumber, not even bothering to cut it up.

"What?" She asked, her mouth full of the vegetable, meeting his gaze.

"Nothing." He shook his head. "I don't like the way you're eating that, making me nervous."

He was already holding a pillow over his crotch, something he did subconsciously.

"I only bit it once, and it was an accident." Natalia glared at him, "I heard someone walk past and I got spooked."

"Was your idea, anyway." He looked away.

"You saying that if I offered to go down on you now, you wouldn't want it?" She asked, her hand on his thigh as she batted her eyelashes.

Daryl swallowed thickly, forcing himself to think straight.

"You for real?" He asked her.

"Of course not." She slapped her hand off, running it through her long dark hair. "I'm nine months pregnant, with twins, pig."

Next

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #carl grimes #carol peletier #daryl fanfiction #glenn rhee #michonne #rick grimes #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #twd daryl x y/n #daryldixonalonetwd #darylxnatalia #thewalkingdeadalone

[denscani]

I think it's fair to assume Dog Teeth likely won't be updated again, which is completely understandable, but i'm curious if you're willing to share what you had planned for your c!Tommy and c!Dream prison fic, set in the 'verse?

i technically have most of it in a draft.

the basics are:

it's dream pov. (therefore was unmotivated to ever finish it at the dsmp height/popularity band it used to be in). involves lot of introspection/inner ruminations.

it goes like canon, where tommy gets stuck in the cell with dream. sam has a retractable leash system for dream that attaches to the back wall and near the food chute. length of chain controlled by a remote-like device. (real chained dog vibes, mostly because I think dt!sam is also kind of a freak like that.)

...and tw here for basics of some of dream's thought patterns ...

while stuck in the cell w/tommy, dream basically thinks about:

a) how much he fucking hates tommy for being annoying/loud/in his space/stuck with him, getting him stuck there in the prison, how everyone is suddenly on tommys side when no one even blinked when he disappeared/got exiled at first, they all found him equally a nuisance to some degree, etc, etc.

b)thinks about how everyone looked at him on the beach, how he knows they want to ask why but his only real reasoning is because he could and because he knew no one could stop him. And, to dream, it was the most effective/fast/efficient (read: entertaining) way to keep tommy in line, and quiet, and semi listening to him for once. like grabbing an insect or weird fucked lizard or something that's been underfoot for so long everyone else ignored it, but you stuck it in a jar and rattled it around hard enough it stopped annoying you. and then kept shaking the jar cause you found it funny and amusing and it was something to do when you're bored.

c) thinks about the past and tommys evolution from burning down georges place to being slowly pressed under his boot to suddenly being gone and then seeing how tommys changed from being in the arctic and with techno. physical and emotional differences, like tommy is full height and tall as or taller than him now, filled out muscle wise--> techno isn't gonna let Tommy sit around and not do chores or mine shit with/ for him ---> dream convinces himself that yeah, well, tommy should thank him then. because dream doesn't think tommy would have been taken in unless he really was crawling up to technos porch like some wounded, skittish animal. annoying and loud, obnoxious pre-exile tommy would have been kicked out day one.

---

outside of the thoughts and ideas dream is cooking up and reflecting on in his brain dome, tommy is stubborn and angry and lashes out the more buttons dream pushes from across the cell (verbally).

basically it's like two different kinds of fucked up dogs put into a small cell and the lack of civility they have for each other is like asking two food aggressive mutts to share a single steak. This includes showing lots of teeth, and using them.

--> and before tommy eventually gets out of the prison cell, he starts making some revelations about dream being pretty top shelf miserable and sort of stuck in time (and mindset), and makes the assertion to dream that he'll be "moving the fuck on with his life" (basically tommy's exact words I penned in the draft), and dream wont be there to see it, etc etc.

(and, because this happens through dream's pov and eyes, dream goes back into stewing and ruminating once tommy leaves. dream thinks about the first day he went to visit tommy in exile and while nothing happens (no armor taken, no items broken, nothing yet), he thinks about how much tommy looked up to him during the moments between the anger. joking around still, the piss sheep, setting up tRent, etc, like dream was someone tommy trusted intrinsically, despite everything. and dream couldn't stop making the comparison in his head to how a dog fed enough times looks at the hand that feeds...and trusts it--needs it-- implicitly.)

Something like that anyways...

#dog teeth fic series #dogteeth fic #dog teeth fic

[roughentumble]

that idea of yours that's Geralt in a shitty relationship while Jaskier supports him as his friend while pining for him? I was thinking about it the other day with Geralt's gf just being a real asshole, wanting an 'open relationship' but only she's allowed to sleep with other people and when he tells Jaskier, Jaskier's a little furious, points out she's cheating on him and how if she wanted to bring someone else into the relationship she could've asked Geralt how he felt about a threesome or something with someone he trusts

And Geralt asks, hypothetically of course, "Would you? If she asked?" and Jaskier immediately scoffs and goes, "I'd be flattered of course but I have absolutely no interest in ever sleeping with her"

And Geralt's like !!!!! bc apparently Jaskier's only opposed to the idea of sleeping with her not Geralt and that's gotta mean something, right?

the words rattle around in his head as he lays next to his partner that night, thinks about how much he cares about jaskier. thinks about all the good times theyve had. maybe jaskier's noticed he's been down recently, has tried harder to cheer him up, something corny but sweet like breakfast for dinner while some upbeat playlist runs in the background, which devolves into dancing in the kitchen and laughing... until his partner'd called and brought the mood down. how more and more often jaskier is the break he needs from the stress of his relationship. thinks if only, maybe, in a different life, etc

but he's too wrapped up in the shit relationship to even think about getting an out, cuz theyve sunk their tendrils in too deep.

#in my head its like. geralt and jaskier are roommates and have been for years until this new partner #and geralt still technically lives w/ jask but spends a lot of his nights at the partner's place #the only reason he hasnt moved yet is cuz of their lease #but his partner holds it over his head as ''proof'' that like #he's too childish+afraid of commitment+a Permanent Bachelor and he needs to Leave His Bachelor Pad Behind. #which really doesnt describe his situation with jaskier at all they are Literally just Friends Who split Rent which is very normal #but geralt is unfortunately really really good at taking (even bad faith) criticism to heart and assuming he's doing something wrong #so he just kinda takes it and swears he'll change #while jaskier is in the corner tearing his HAIR OUT because geralt is perfectly wonderful and doesnt NEED to change thank you very much. #witcher tag #ogc tag #its a whole thing and jaskier is watching his best friend whom he loves waste away to an emotional leech #who simultaneously ignores him and yet demands all his attention. #gets bored of him and puts him on a shelf yet gets pissed when he gets bored or even god forbid has FUN while waiting around for them #'i think /i/ should see other people but make sure to wait up to make sure i make it home safe. and you shouldnt bother i'd get too jealous' #you know. real soul sucker type shit #(maybe not ALL these things at once but idk im batting a few concepts around)

[moxfirefly]

I have to thank @southernblossoms for this one, she got evil!Leo in my brain and he hasn’t left ever since.

TW: Violence, Gore, Blood, NSFW content below

Rated Explicit (18+ years)

“She said I'm looking like a bad man, smooth criminal

She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

She said that I don't look like me no more, no more

I said I'm just tired”

Leonardo always knew there was an inch inside of him that was darkness.

If left alone and unchecked, it would spread. Fester like some disease and he feared that someday he’d allow it to course through his body so freely.

And let it win.

It seemed today would be that unfortunate day. A night like any other, just more bloodshed than necessary. But hey, who said they should go and kill his father? Torture him to such an extent and string up his body for his brothers and him to find.

In that very moment that inch had grown in his soul to a degree that it blinded him. All he knew was to destroy, to hurt and erase those who had done this. He felt so cold, hands cupping his fathers motionless bloodied feet, the gentle tapping of blood and the cries of his brothers echoing in his ears.

So when Leo stood, bloodied (not bathed in his own), holding the head of the monster responsible, how could he regain peace? This had only brought a momentary second of reprieve and it was so fleeting. He looked into Shredder’s lifeless eyes, numbness spreading but a need that had started out as an inch. A need to kill everyone who had been part of this, directly or indirectly.

They all deserved so much worse.

They all deserved death.

Slow and torturous.

He had disappeared after that night. His brothers knew that this was the end of their leader, of their beloved brother who wanted to believe that good in this world could prevail.

For them they never imagined that Leo would just let the darkness take hold of him, nestle him with such a loving embrace. For him to embrace it right back felt justified, for his brothers it painted the gory picture of things to come.

They never expected to meet him in the opposition. To view him as foe and not family. Leonardo had quickly taken hold of the scum of the earth. He had molded the darkness to serve him.

Raphael thought Shredder was their worst enemy.

He never expected to have Leo claim that spot in a matter of months.

The Foot had fallen under his ruling, and he wasted no time in setting examples, and the bloody path those examples left behind never seized to churn the brothers stomachs.

There was no means of bringing him back, and perhaps it’s for the better.

Because whatever has eaten away inside of Leonardo cannot simply be flushed out of his body, nor ripped from his very soul. The body counts too high by now as he strays further and further away from what he was taught.

From what his father taught him...

_______________

You run with the unsavories. An eat or be eaten mentality that has caused you to survive years and years of gang wars and mutant freaks. Not like you’d throw about that last bit, much less when you’re standing single file, close to pissing yourself because he’s there.

And Christ he’s a sight to behold.

A rumor, a legend, a monster.

You tell him you’ve got valuable info, you know where to follow the trail that’ll lead to success. Even when your partner tries to push his chin up in front of Leonardo, you’re already wincing at what his demise will be shaped in.

Leo really loves cutting heads off.

A strong emphasis on loves.

You swallow, eyes flying anywhere but the rapidly growing puddle of blood that approaches your feet. Even then, your eyes stray towards the newest leader of the Foot, Leo punctures his katana into the head, a crude skewer as he lifts it and examines the severed body part as if answers lie in the gush of blood that falls. Those dark blue eyes move on you, you swallow.

He walks over to you, blade in hand, blood tap tapping onto the ground “Your information” Leo’s voice is weightless, bored almost. You motion towards your pocket, the crumpled up note with a poorly drawn map the key to your salvation. Leo reaches his hand in and you’re still, stiff and frightened by the intrusive touch and his proximity.

He pulls the note out and examines, the ghastly expression of horror on the decapitated head so close you can smell the coppery scent. “Can you get more of this? The coordinantes?” You crane your neck to look at him, his stature imposing. “Yeah, I’m your girl for that shit, swear on it” He flicks the blade and the sound of the head rolling makes your stomach flip flop along with it.

You feel the tip of a bloodied katana on your chin.

“Don’t make me cut off such a pretty head, hm?” You want to nod but the blade digs and Leo’s mouth twitches in something akin to a smirk. The small cut to your chin stings, but you wonder why other parts of you vibrate.

The danger, the adrenaline, Leonardo.

_____________

Your next meeting doesn’t quell your nervousness. Leonardo is an impressive sight as always and it’s imposible to ignore that maybe you won’t make it out alive every time you both meet. Unless proven useful, which you take to heart. You bring all sorts of information, names, rumors, possible gangs wanting to take him on, the police. Any word you heard in regards to him.

“It’s possible they might try to meet you half way, catch you off guard” The warehouse is chilly, that fall weather starting to hit but Leo’s unfazed, the black tails of his mask move with the gust of winds. “Stupid of them to assume that” The second floor of the warehouse seems to be his own, leaving the rest of the crew bellow. He sits on the windowsill, cloth running up his katana, it had been bloody when you were brought in.

“I’m just repeating what I heard, I’m sure you’re more than adept to take them on” You stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket, you’d been frisked not like you were stupid enough to bring a weapon to this.

But then again, the more he polished that sword, the more you wished you had something.

“What else have you heard? Any word on Karai?” The woman in question had appeared to have disappeared into thin air after Shredder’s death and Leo taking command of the Foot soldiers. Wether she planned to reclaim what was hers or if she had simply quit was beyond you and anybody else. “Nothing on her, she might’ve skipped town or the country” You offered, eyes following the sword as Leo placed it on a nearby table.

“She strike you as the type? A coward?” He walked over towards you, his expression so eerily unreadable.

Yet, your eyes wandered over him. Over muscle and scales. Overs scars and bruises. That illogical part of your brain making you wonder and fantasize, because fear could be exciting.

There was something exciting about Leonardo.

“Well?” He was in front of you, looking down at you. It hits you how minuscule you must look to him.

“Probably plotting? You did murder her dad” You find his eyes, you swallow.

“Well he murdered mine. Eye for an eye...” He spoke gently almost.

“Makes the whole world go blind” You finished for him, and maybe that was stepping on a line but you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch up. For a brief second you catch his eyes scan yours, move across your face and settle at your lips.

Passed your neck, towards your breasts.

He turns around and grabs his sword.

“One week, find more info on her, your pay is downstairs” You’re dismissed and before you process anything a Foot soldier is ushering you downstairs and shoving an envelope in your hands.

That night you dream about what your lips might feel like against reptilian scales.

—————————

Karai’s whereabouts are practically unheard off. If there was a trail it had run cold months back and judging from the word of mouth being passed around there wasn’t anything sustainable. You dig up anything and everybody. Every dirt bag with an agenda, ex Foot soldiers, opposing gangs, the mob and just about anybody you have in your radar.

It yields nothing.

You can’t return to Leo with nothing.

Rubbing a hand across your tired face, you make your way through the back alleys of the city. Your one week was coming up and all you had were weak possibilities and baseless assumptions. In your line of business enough information to create doubt can go a long way, but this was conspiracy levels bad.

So you thought and you thought quick.

Pulling out your phone you called him first. Perhaps a dumb move but at the same time you figured it showed that you were trying. You asked if the two of you could meet, the line briefly went quiet before your text tone startled you. He hung up and you were met with the address of a building in Brooklyn and to go up to the roof.

To say you were scared was to put it lightly.

You were shitting yourself.

The roof of the building had a green house which seemed unused but it looked like it was being kept up with the vegetation still green and alive. Your hand made for the door knob but something you could only name as a sixth sense made you freeze.

Leo was there, the shift in the atmosphere was impossible to deny. Your turned and blinked.

Wherever he had been, it must’ve been worse. There was blood on him, a fresh gash by his arm and the steady drip drip of blood hitting the concrete. “Jesus are you...?” You knew he was ok, but whomever had been on the receiving end of this had it by far much worse.

“Inside, go inside” He motioned for the green house and you did. Your eyes scanned around hoping to find something to help with. There was a nest of sorts in a corner, several blankets and cushions, a table and a chair amidst the plants. You found what you were looking for near the bonsais, a shelf with a box of first aid. Leo went towards a counter with a basin and a jar of water, he went about cleaning the gash on his arm.

You approached him with the box of first aid, blue eyes were cautious as you took out antiseptic and gauze. Leo had turned to face you, giving you more room to work on his arm as you bandaged it. “You alright?” Your voice held hesitation, Leo’s questioning gaze turned to amusement. “I’m fine, what I want to know is why you wanted to meet” You finished bandaging him and took a step back.

Pick your words wisely, you thought with a slight shutter.

“Listen I’ve spoken with any and everyone who might have any clue but Karai is off the radar”Swallowing a lump in your throat you shrugged off your jacket, worry manifesting in heat. “I know this isn’t what you wanted and I’m really fucking good at my job but this bitch is either underground or who knows! Dead for all I know!” The exasperation and worry was clear as day, he either took this the right way or the wrong way.

Wrong way being you end up pushed off this very building, at best ironically enough.

Leo swallowed the information, clearly bouncing it around his head. The dry specks of blood scattered across his green flesh. An odd silence fell amongst you both and even when he rose in all his imposing glory you kept your eyes focused on him. Getting a read on that cold calculated gaze of his was hard enough.

Your throat feels painfully dry once he has you backed up against the wall. Something about dying alone with not even an audience to witness it didn’t sit too right with you.

But then again, Leo’s large hand gripped your neck, nothing too tight but enough to alert you to its presence. Those blue eyes looked haunted but just beneath that laid something you couldn’t just place your finger on. The tips of his fingers lightly caressed you, one of them fascinated with your quickened pulse. You can’t blink, unsure what may happen and when he dips down your adrenaline makes you flinch.

Leo halts his movement, his blood feels like it’s pumping loudly enough for you to hear. Wide eyed you lean up instead and ghost your lips against his, Leo sighs through his nostrils and it stays that way. A pull but not enough of a push because there’s still fear in your blood and a hesitation that you can’t put a name to from Leonardo.

Your phone going off startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin and to a fraction of your dismay Leo takes a step away. One of your contacts name flashed on the screen which meant there could still be some good news. Your turned away to speak, pulling a marker from your pocket you write down some information on your forearm. It’s a quick conversation and once done you turn to see Leo putting together his gear again.

You bit your lip, whatever was about to happen would just have to take a back seat. ‘Fucking coward’ you can’t help but think about yourself.

“One of my guys says he might have it on good authority that Karai is still here” You watch him turn his head to listen, even if he’s got his back/shell to you. “Well?” He pushes while adjusting his swords.

“He says she might’ve just met up with...with one of your brothers” Tense doesn’t even begin to explain what his body did, the mear mention of his family was a sore subject and you had been warned to not even attempt to open that can of worms. Swallowing and feeling your throat stick from how dry it felt you see him pull out a key and toss it to you. “Send me that address, you’ll get your money at the warehouse” You barely manage to catch the key to the greenhouse, but still you raise a brow at the offering.

“Come back here when you’re ready” Is all he says about it, confusion is painted on your face but when he moved to leave he takes a moment to hold your chin. “Don’t make me regret this” He says and before you can attempt to ask he’s gone.

You stay there, twenty minutes or so in nothing but your thoughts and his words swimming around your mind.

Feeling heat between your legs and a lick of frustration consuming you.

_____________

Two weeks you contemplate the key in your pocket.

Two weeks you let your thumb hover over his number but never press down.

For two weeks you find your pillow between your legs, trying to reach the sensation he managed with just his body close to yours.

But nothing.

It’s not enough.

New York is covered in rain as you make your way through the sea of people. Regardless of the many umbrellas you still get soaked and by the time you’re up on that roof, hand digging out the key to the green house you’re drenched.

Inside you shake off the excess and remove your jacket. The cold hits you and you can’t help but feel silly that you’re here, maybe this is his way of taking you out, you’re not needed anymore by now you assume.

You turn on the few lanterns that are scattered through the room. Kicking off your boots you rub your arms and shiver, flesh breaking out into goosebumps as the door creaks open once more.

Leo’s equally drenched when he steps through, the black tails of his mask sticking to him. The two of you just stare at one another, steady drips of water and the rain outside picking up more strengh.

Carefully you watch him begin take apart his gear, leaving his katanas by the door. He’s trying to keep your apprehension at low levels, his steps slow and soft. You let your arms fall to your sides and as your heart tries to hammer out of your chest you don’t flinch this time, even as his hands go for the hem of your long sleeve. You take a deep breath as his eyes wander across your now exposed flesh. The fascination goes straight to your core, feeling yourself warm up as his hands rest on your stomach.

With trembling hands you unbutton your jeans and step out of them and the inhale Leo takes as he closes his eyes makes you reach for him. He holds you against him and sighs, large frame shuddering at the feel of your skin against his reptilian one. He buries his snout against your neck, breathing harder as his hands run all over your back and rear. Leo grips and kneads the flesh and a groan escapes against your ear that makes your wrap your arms around his neck. He feels the softness of your breasts against his chest, he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t been dreaming about them for months now.

You can’t wrap your head around it but he feels just as you fantasized about him. The roughness of his flesh, the edges of his shell and god his teeth nip at your neck with a growl. Wiggling out of his hold you start to undo whatever else needs to be taken off and Leo can’t help but smirk at your frenzied movements. He allows you to undress him, he’s gutted when your hands land on his waist as you start to kneel before him.

“No, no, kiss me first” He cups your face and presses his mouth against yours and that’s it, you’re done for, you’re hooked and can’t go back now. His kiss is possessive, forceful and it drowns every thought in your brain.

You pressed against one of the tables with the many Bonsais when Leo’a tongue slithers into your awaiting mouth. He sits you down on the table and nudges your legs apart to fit himself in between them, you crane your neck up losing yourself in his kiss. He can taste rain water, feels the sweat and rain mingle on your skin. God he wants to run his tongue all over you, eat you whole if he could.

It feels like forever when he pulls away, reluctance in his body. Blue eyes search into your e/c eyes, he wants to see something maybe your fear so he denies himself falling into this rabbit hole. Your hands press against his plastron and gently you run your nails down the hard plates, you shake your head fascinated by the texture. He’s rough but strong, a marvel of a species.

With some difficulty you managed to push your underwear off and spread yourself again for his viewing pleasure. “I want you,” You nodded, eyes falling to the hard length between his legs. Leo wraps a large hand around it and pumps slowly, body shivering at the sensation. “God I fucking want you so bad” You feel him come back to you, mouth on yours in yet another harsh kiss.

The tip of his cock nudges against your wet heat and he bites your lip at the sensation. Leo pushes into you so frustratingly slow, even as his girth stretches you to a point you’ve never been before. You want him inside of you now, and Leo couldn’t agree more. He bottoms out inside of you with a lengthy groan, head thrown back in ecstasy. “You feel... so fucking good” He growls out through gritted teeth, hips picking up speed as you wantonly take him in. You press your lips to his chest and moan with each slow but pronounced thrust of his hips.

His hand finds itself at the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair to keep your gaze on his. The slight tug burns so good and you can’t help but keep your pleasure filled gaze on his own. Lips parted you let him rock into you steadily until his thrust start to slam into you. The sensation spreads all over your body, little shocks of pleasure rocking your body.

“Mine, you’re going to be mine and only mine” He voices lowly, a threat laced in his passion. You’re too far gone to speak, nodding aimlessly at his every word, moans falling from your lips. “Nobody will own you like I do, nobody will touch you, Y/N? You understand? I’m making you mine” He pressed his forehead to yours, lost in this feeling.

“Fuck yes, yours, I’m gonna be all yours” You lick his lips and when he reaches a hand between both your bodies your mind goes blank. A vicious shudder overtakes you as you muffle a scream against his jaw. He fills you up so good and so warm with a strange vibration that sounds like an endless growl. Each rope he pumps into you making his eyes roll back. You’re shattered against, limp and raw throat from the scream that leaves your mouth.

He watches your come down, hand against your cheek, thumb running across your lips. When he pulls out just enough to watch his essence cascade out of your pretty little hole, he pumps himself back into you. His eyes say it all, from here on out whatever your life was up to this point is over and done with. Leo nuzzles you still lazily pumping himself in you, blissful to the little tremors your cunt produces around his member making him harden once again. Picking you up, bodies still joined, he makes his way to the nest of blankets on the floor.

You hold onto him, all you can do is hold onto him.

____________

It’s rather odd to be in this position. With an entire year that’s passed it never seems to feel normal, not that you’re complaining though.

Being in a position of power by proxy has its fucking fun rewards.

For example nobody in this city will ever contemplate taking you out. Unless they want a very pissed off Foot Leader to set fire to the city and maybe even the world. From opposite points to now standing at his side. No one is to address you as below them, or touch you or let alone breath the same air you do.

You can still hear the bones that were cracked when one particularly unruly Foot soldier made snide comment about you. Each crack of the mans arm being slowly twisted until his arm broke still rang in your ears to this day. Leo hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even scowled even as the twist turned to pulling the limb off.

He did in fact fuck you hard against the glass windows of the hotel suite he had you both in. The copper scent lingering on his scales, but enraptured with the heat enveloping his cock.

With the city at war everyone had began to run amok to do their own barbaric things. Each part of the city divided between gangs, mobs, mutants, police and civilians. You were out on active Foot duties, you were still free to do as you pleased but with protection and Leo demanded your whereabouts on the hour due to possibilities of abduction.

He knew you were a weakness.

But did he give a shit? Of course not. Let them try, he hasn’t needed an excuse for his tyrannical acts thus far, but if harm did ever befall you, you only wished you could witness what his methods would be to exact his revenge.

And he was so familiar with revenge after all.

You admire yourself in the full length mirror, examining the body that training under Leo has provided you. The mutant terrapin in question comes up from behind you and wraps his strong sculpted arms around your waist. You can’t help but smirk as he rest his chin a top your head. “We’re heading out in half an hour” He mumbles against your hair, enjoying the scent. You watch through the mirror as his hands rub up and cup your breast, with a sigh you rest against his strong build. “What’s on the agenda tonight? Purple dragons?” You feel him shake his head, fingers dipping inside the cups of your bra. “Mob,” Is his sole reply.

You bite your lip, gripping his wrists. “We’ll be late” You try to muffle a moan as he tweaks a nipple, he grinds against your backside. “I’m killing them regardless, and I much rather have the scent of your cunt on my hands while I listen to their boring excuses for parley” Your knees buckled when you felt his hand slither inside your underwear, finger already parting your lips and humming as he feels how wet you already are.

You feel his other hand wrap around your neck, keeping you upright and your gaze on the mirror as his finger dips into your welcoming heat.

He engulfs your every thought, every sensation; and what’s the fate of the world when you’ve got him? He chose you just as much as you chose him. You’ve never considered yourself good, scumbag street rat who just happened to make a living amongst the other scumbags. But this? With Leonardo and the trail of bloodied heads he’s left behind, it’s hard not to be excited to see gasoline be poured on the city. He trails his lips to the shell of your ear and you can’t help but grin.

“Mine” He says.

Burn everything.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt Leonardo x fem reader #leonardo #Leo #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #leonardo tmnt #leo tmnt #ns*w #oneshot #evil!Leo #dark!Leo

[hanazou]

𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖.

(while being shorter than him)

— a chaos of fun!

Word count : 1.5K

Shelf : Hardback

Genre : Romance and fluff, slight crack

Note : Sorry, anon! There was technical issue so I have to post this without your ask! I hope these are detailed enough to your expectations? I wrote more than I expected I would. Once again, thank you to the-foreigner for helping me figure out the tags!

Please enjoy!

 Where have you been all his life?

To say that Chuuya would simply be attracted to you because of your height sounds shallow, so let me phrase it this way; Chuuya is so used to having look up to people since many are taller than him all his life, both men and women, so it kind of does something different to his psyche when he sees you, being shorter than him.

Not to sound stereotypical but it's a given instinct that when you see someone shorter than you, you get the impression that they're cute and it triggers your protective instinct, right? This is what Chuuya feels about you. And since this sensation is new to him, he cherishes it.

Also, since Chuuya leans more towards masculinity, in your relationship with him, you're making him feel more manly. To speak a bit bluntly and in a nutshell, you boost his ego.

You make him feel even more confident and comfortable with himself. It's not that he wasn't confident before he dates you, you're just making him bolder with more sense of control and masculinity, making him feel validated. More dominant and more alpha.

But what does all of that mean, you ask? Here's the highlight of this post; Chuuya will pamper you as your prince charming while simultaneously being your playmate. Perfectly balanced.

Why? Because seeing you being petite, smaller than him, makes you appear as someone he should protect, but the romance doesn't replace the fun. When it comes to being Chuuya's darling, things never get overly cheesy. Yes he can be romantic (he is), but he's not the type to use sweet talks 24/7. He uses his "rough" ways to communicate his romanticism, one of them being your equal, hence the "playmate" dynamic.

Chuuya tells himself that you're his cute, little darling. He will say this to you straightforwardly except the "cute" part. If he casually and accidentally calls you cute from a slip of his tongue, you can definitely tease him back to get even.

He can be the big spoon and the "top" of your relationship, but he will be a switch if he's feeling sluggish. Being the "lead" sometimes makes him need a break, not from you, but from the energy it takes. Chuuya is an emotional guy and can be downright hysterical, and that takes energy, so he will turn to you for solace when he's worn out. To achieve that, Chuuya will utilize your height to bury his face into your neck or lean his forehead on your shoulder when work wears him down.

"Stay like this for a while," His voice blurs into mutters with his face on your shoulder. "Just three minutes."

Pat his head. Do it.

If you're the one feeling low, just put your head against his chest when you're both standing. Chuuya will be confused at first, but he'll silently ruffle your hair with your forehead still against his chest. It will be calming, I promise you.

Whether you're Port Mafia or a regular civilian (I find it easier for him to date someone from the PM though), you can count on Chuuya to be protective. He's already a protective guy by nature but when he sees you, his shorter darling, anywhere close to danger, that protective instinct doubles or even triples.

In fact, he wants you to rely on him. It's not that he wants you to be dependent—Chuuya just wants you to know that he always has your back. He's the combination of loyal and protective, so he wants to prove those qualities he takes pride in to you. Trust is a strong element for him, and by letting him know you count on him, you’re already securing his utmost loyalty and love.

One of the highlights of this post is his hat. You're shorter than him and it makes it easier for Chuuya to just plop his hat on your head on random occasions. No words, no thoughts, just putting his hat on you. It's the subconscious acts of love like this that makes him feel whole with you.

Kouyou will like you for colouring Chuuya's life. She'll make comments about how you both are fun to watch at, especially when you're both doing your silly dating antics, such as "My, my, energetic as always, aren't you both?"

Speaking of dating antics--Emotional maturity? We don't know her.

Doesn’t matter if you're only 2 cm or maybe 10 cm shorter than him. He will take any height advantage and have fun with it. A little too much, in fact.

Chuuya is not above using his ability to put objects in places he knows you can't reach but is close enough for you to struggle, just to watch you squirm. Confidence does things to this man, mischief being one of them. On the instances where you really can't reach up and it's not because of his tricks, something like this is bound to happen ;

"Huh, can't reach the top shelf, can ya? Don't worry, I've got you." He says, chest huffing with pride, before getting a ladder himself.

"...."

Mostly will lift you up to help since he wants to take the small chances to bond with you over simple moments. Short people solidarity. The height boost isn't much since short + short doesn't exactly equate to being tall, but hey, it's the thought and the comedic moments that count.

Speaking of comedic moments;

"Have you reached it yet?!" He asks loudly, craning his head from below you to see upwards. You're sitting on his shoulders and he's making sure he doesn't move around too much, or else you'll fall.

"Just a little bit more—!" You grunt, arm stretched. "Lift me up more, will you? Jump or something!"

"Do you want to fall? Forget it! Just reach higher!

"Maybe I can stand on your shoulders. Hold still--"

"Oi, this vest is 60,000 yen! And this is already the highest I'm lifting you! That's enough, I'll lower you down and just use my ability!"

"No! I'm already grazing it!"

And then you both will proceed to bicker in that weird, eye-catching position, for at least 2 more minutes. It will end if you either jump off him or he floats you down using his ability, and usually it's the latter.

[Sometimes the positions will switch (you lifting him up) but he's a solid 60 kg, it will be a challenge for your muscles and a good workout routine. Good luck getting him to agree to it though.]

[If that happens, chances are your legs will wobble just within seconds from lifting him. Good thing is it increases the humour and mischief in your relationship, downgrade is that it's too silly and stupid to look at to make it feel romantic]

Want to get back at his pranks? Here's a solution. Chuuya will vaporize if you use his clothes. He's taller than you, so let's say his shirt looks like a dress on you.

"W-What do you think you're wearing?!" Is what he shouts, but his flustered face says otherwise. [Bonus: for more critical hit, wear his choker(s). It does ‘things’ to him]

Yeah it's the little things like this that boost his confidence and optimism, and you don't mind him acting like the prince charming in an armour.

If anyone calls you (or even both of you) short, Chuuya will be pissed and defend you and himself since he assumes you also don't like being mocked for your height. He takes it upon himself to "fight" for you too. He has the "we're in this together" mentality.

And so do you. If any Port Mafia's enemies try to waver your confidence or Chuuya's by mocking your heights, it's going to be hell at that point.

If Dazai ever spots you and Chuuya together in public, he will say "Congratulations, Chuuya! You finally found someone shorter to date!" just when Chuuya mumbles "What's that shitty Dazai doing here?" under his breath.

Chuuya will try to kick his face while yelling "Huh?! What'd you just said about us!?"

Don't take what Dazai said personally, he did it to get on Chuuya's nerves, not yours. Instead, why don't you hold Chuuya back so he doesn't chase Dazai?

“Don’t you ever get bored arguing with him?!” You struggle to pull him back. You have to shout to outmatch his shouts.

Chuuya will be interested in height-related shenanigans with you, such as actually reading obviously fake advertisements that promises height growth and asking you if you're interested. He will only do this with you because he knows you won't make silly/berating comments about him. As I've said, trust is the secret ingredient in dating Chuuya.

"Hey, do you think this is real?" He shows you the poster he picked up. The dirt left by his sole on it is still there.

"Chuuya," You try really hard to stop sighing. "At this point, we have to stop lying to ourselves,"

But if the advertisement doesn't sound fake, let's say it utilises supposedly "effective acupuncture techniques", you will lessen the mature act and entertain him a bit.

In short, you and Chuuya will have an energetic and youthful relationship. It doesn't matter where you two are, be it in the cities or the ground zero of battle; if you two are there, people will see one hell of a lively, energetic, short duo.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

#chuuya #chuuya imagine #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuuya fluff #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #bsd x reader #bsd x fluff #bsd imagine #chuuya hc #chuuya headcanon #chuuya headcanons #bsd hc #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs #[📜] — book checkout. #[👻] — mystery visitor.

[lustinglilac]

Hey love! I absolutely love your OA Zidan imagines & I was wondering if you could do a full on angst to smut one maybe? Idc what the angst part is centered around maybe where he's mad at the reader? but for the smut could there be a choking kink??? Sorry if this is too detailed or you can't do it , thank u !!!

A/N: I had a really fun time writing this! Even though it took me forever. I really hope you enjoy & thank you for requesting 💜

Warnings: choking kink, condescending talk, angry OA (but then fluff), some arguing, NSFW under the cut, 18+ ONLY

*GIF NOT MINE*

“OA... I don’t understand what the issue is. I invited Maggie over for dinner and Nestor just so happened to be there when I did. Big deal!” She scoffed, walking to her side of the car door.

OA tries to steady his breathing, sighing harshly before pulling open the driver’s side of the door, “The point is he’s a manipulative, selfish prick who has no care about who he screws over—“

“Honestly Omar, if you could leave work at work, that would be so great.” She states matter of factly. She fastens her seatbelt, smoothing down her dress before crossing her arms over her chest, turning to stare at something, anything, out the window.

“Y’know... out of all people, I thought you’d understand that the most.” He chuckles humorlessly, “I’ll keep my opinions to myself from now on.” He turns on the engine, the noise drowning out her heart beating out of her chest as they head for their shared apartment.

Minutes later they’d arrived outside of their building, silently getting out of the car as she held back tears. God, she didn’t even know why she was so upset. Maybe at the fact that they let someone as irrelevant as Nestor get between them? She had no clue.

“I’ll be in our room if you need me.” Once inside, she steps out of her wedges, not bothering to look back at him.

Omar contemplates going after her, his anger towards Nestor really getting the best of him as he replayed the conversation in his head.

Loosening the collar of his dress shirt, he took a seat on the plush couch, leaning his head back against it with a low groan.

She willed herself not to cry, stripping out of her short dress and putting on something more comfortable for the time being. She realized the harshness to her words earlier, pinching the bridge of her nose before making the decision to go out into the kitchen for a glass of water. And secretly to see OA.

She padded quietly down the short hallway, reaching the fridge in no time, throwing a glance Omar’s way before averting her eyes.

He watches her manuever around the tiny kitchen area, an amused smirk playing on his lips as she reached up for the glasses that were usually kept on the top most shelf, a bad habit OA had yet to break.

Her stubborness taking over, not wanting to ask for help as she reached as far up as she could to no avail.

“Here— I got you.” In no time, OA had been behind her, one hand on her hip to steady himself before reaching above her and effortlessly bringing down a cup for her to use.

She huffs audibly, “I was— I had it.” Taking it from his grasp roughly before pushing past him, or at least attempting to. OA was quick to trap her against the island before she could go anywhere.

“Really? ‘Cause it looked like you were struggling.” He hums, face neutral as he looked at his partner. “Are you done having an attitude with me?”

She laughs unexpectedly at the tone of his voice, like a mother scolding a teenager for being bratty. In essence, that’s kind of what was happening here, too.

“I don’t know. Are you done acting like I can’t do shit for myself and need you to help me every two seconds?” She counters, challenging him as she felt his demeanor completely change.

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, letting it go just as quickly and leaning down leveling himself to her eyesight, “Sweetheart— I��d be careful what you say.” His eyes freely roam over her face, stopping for a moment at her lips and then down her neck towards her cleavage.

“Or what—“ Before she’d even finished that sentence, OA had crashed his lips against hers, tongue slipping into her mouth so easily as the glass nearly slipped from her grip before she set it down and kissed him back just as feverishly.

Her hands going straight for his face as he placed her down onto the island, all traces of anger and Nestor gone from their minds as he fumbled with the waistband of her shorts before ridding her of them.

She gasped as she felt the cool surface of the island beneath her bare thighs, leaning back slightly to catch their breath.

“Fuck Omar, I’m sor—“ She began breathlessly only to be cut off again by his lips before pulling back again.

He shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now, okay?” OA makes sure she understands before unbuttoning his own pants and pulling himself out with a soft hiss.

She nods at him and hums softly at the stern tone he exhibits, the wetness pooling between her legs, a nice contrast to the coolness of the marble beneath her.

OA kisses her neck leaving a mark on the side of it, that she would have no choice but to cover with makeup later, as his hands grab at her tits.

“OA... fuuuck.” She gasps as she feels his hand sliding lower, slotting between her thighs, spreading them just a little to help accomodate him. He pulls away from her neck and looks at her.

“Need me to fuck that attitude right outta you?” He speaks so condescendingly that it makes her nod without hesitation.

“Yes. Please.” She whimpers quietly, thighs threatning to shut around his hand as he kept up a taunting rhythm, circling her wet clit before moving down towards her opening.

Omar smiles, knowing she was right there, right on the brink of cumming for him before he removes his fingers holding them to her mouth.

She pants, breathless, the expression on her face a frustrated one as she looks from his fingers to his amused face.

“Suck.” He presses the wet fingers against her half-open lips, groaning praises when she finally takes them into her mouth and cleans them off with a moan. With his other hand, he manages to rip her tank top down, her breasts spilling freely making her shiver at the cool air on her sensitive nipples.

As he pulls his fingers out of her mouth, he scoots her off the counter onto the ground again, bending her over roughly, tits pressed flat to the cold surface of the marble beneath her.

“So pretty like this... just for me.” He grunts, watching her wet cunt clench around nothing but his words of praise as she arches her back slightly, giving him a show.

“Just fuck me.” She mumbles, nails impatiently tapping against the counter as OA takes his time.

He rubs his cock up and down her pussy a few times making her mewl in pleasure as she tried her hardest to push back onto him, growing irritable with every swipe of his dick up and down her folds.

Her eyes roll shut as he finally pushes in all the way, leaving her no room to say anything but moan and whimper. She was speechless to say the least, until he hit that one spongy spot inside her that made her vision spot.

“Baby— ooooh fuuuck. Feels so good.” She eventually manages to pant out a few words, biting her lip as he kept up a teasing pace.

“Yeah? Right there?” OA teases, grinding his hips into her as his hand came around to cup the front of her throat, pulling her against his chest. His other hand found her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts as her mouth fell open at the sensation.

“Omar, don’t fucking stop—“ She gasped, his thumb pressing softly on the pulse point right below her ear as she reveled in the feel of his large hand around her throat. She loved when he got pissed off, whether it was at her (rarely) or at something from work, it usually led to the best sex.

Her tits bounced with every movement as Omar sped up his thrusts, whispering about how he was gonna fuck her till she learned not to talk back to him. And she was cockdumb, loving every word he growled in her ear as he choked her. He kissed the side of her cheek softly as he brought her to her climax, her back arching slightly as he continued until he chased his own high.

They stayed like that for a minute or so, and also because she was unable to move yet, his thumb caressing the side of her cheek softly, placing kisses along her neck.

“OA... I’m sorry.” She sighs, pulling him out of her slowly, whimpering at the sensitivity and turning around to face him.

He lowers his head, pressing his forehead against her own, “It’s fine, baby.” He assures her, placing a chaste kiss to her lips before pulling back to look at her, his hands going straight to her thighs.

“You can always talk to me about anything. I don’t care— even if it’s the most boring thing in the world. I never want you to bottle up your emotions about things in your life, okay?” She nods, making sure he understood.

“Really? You’re gonna be sick of me by the end of it.” He smiles making her laugh.

“Never that.” She places her hands on his beard pulling him in for a soft kiss.

#oa zidan #oa zidan smut #oa zidan imagine #fbi cbs #fbi smut #omar adom zidan

[astaroth1357]

Congratulations!! So happy for you!! Do you mind writing a HC for the Tiny!MC, where the brothers see Tiny!MC in trouble with some lesser demons? Like, the lesser demon is bullying them or about to hurt them, how would the brothers react? You don’t have to write this if you don’t want to tho. Again Congratulations!!!

Demon Brothers React to Tiny!MC Being Threatened by Lesser Demons

You know, my first thought was "Which one of you fuckers lost tiny!MC in the first place?? Bad demons! Worse than usual! Keep better track of your itty-bitty human!"

Pretty much uses the same continuity to the rest of my Tiny!Series, I put this somewhere during the “Lucifer, I Shrunk Myself...” portion.

Warnings: Violence, Overly Protective Behavior

Intro:

Five minutes. Their demonic guardian said they were only going to put them down for Five. Minutes. It shouldn't have been that dangerous, or even risky, because everyone should have known that tiny!MC was under their protection. Sure, an itsy-bitsy human would make a perfect snack... but who would want to provoke the wrath of the student council for no reason??… Okay so, lesser demons aren’t exactly known for their intelligence but still...

This is not going to end well...

Lucifer

Doesn’t that lowlife know who he's messing with? Lucifer almost pities him for being so stupid, really…

He brought tiny!MC out to the gardens at their request because they were getting restless being stuck in his room. It wasn't supposed to be a dangerous area so he felt fine leaving them briefly to answer a call from Diavolo. When he came back he found a lesser demon standing over them... drooling...

What came out was a rather chilling side of Lucifer normally only seen by Mammon. One where he can walk up to a person, demon form out in full, then drag them away by the collar with an eerily calm smile on his face.

Tiny!MC didn't see what Lucifer did to the demon… but they did hear Cerberus get summoned before the firstborn returned to them. Their imagination worked to fill in the blanks…

Lucifer apologized to them rather kindly (a real rarity for him) but they noticed he cut their visit short and took them back to the House quickly. They got the sense he'd rather they be safe but bored in his room than entertained but vulnerable to such a dangerous world…

Mammon

Pfffffft, Mammon is protective of MC even when they’re normal-sized. Them being tiny doesn’t change much.

He had brought them along with him for one of his gambling nights. Unfortunately, he got too absorbed in the game to notice a group of lesser demons getting closer to tiny!MC than they really should have… At least until they shouted for his help.

It's rare to see Mammon mad. It really is. But there was nothing but pure rage in his eyes when he grabbed one of the demons by the throat and sent him crashing through the roulette tables. His speed made it pretty easy for him to round up all the others that tried to scatter and he gave them a similar treatment.

After everyone was thoroughly on the ground, bleeding, he asked the MC if they were hurt. If they were, then that'd just earn the downed demons another round of his fury. No one hurts his human like that! Big or small.

He'll apologize a whole bunch for letting his guard down… but also complain a little on the way back to the House because his luck was just starting to turn around too! 😖😞

Leviathan

Direct confrontation isn’t something Levi finds himself in often… but there can be exceptions.

He and tiny!MC were in one of the few stores in town that sold otaku goods and he had set them down to do some browsing in that hyper, distracted fanboy way he gets.

A couple of lesser demons were just some other patrons who happened by them, but who could pass up such a convenient snack?

Well, tiny!MC was convenient until the guys heard what was probably the world's most unholy hissing sound coming from the other side of the room…

Levi has never claimed to be at the peak of demonic prowess or anything, but just this once he was at their defense at a speed he’s never pulled off before. In practically a blink of an eye, he has one asshole lifted by the collar and the other getting crushed by his tail. It wasn't a pretty sight...

After the threat was dealt with, he snapped right back into the same ol'Levi like nothing ever happened, though. Blubbering apologies and frantically checking to be sure they were unharmed... What a somewhat terrifying sweetheart. 🤭

He pretty much refused to take them anywhere again until they were back to normal. Who needs the real world anyway?? His room is the only place they ever need to be!

Satan

You know this is exactly why he kept them so close in the first place...

Satan had to retrieve a book from the highest shelf in the RAD library so he set tiny!MC down in order to climb the ladder. A small gang of lesser demons decided to strike while he was up there browsing...

When he slid back down and turned to see the demons had surrounded the table that he left tiny!MC at, his shout alone was powerful enough to rattle the shelves behind him...

Needless to say, the Avatar of Wrath made very short work of the threat. And a library ladder can make a surprisingly versatile weapon if you put it in the hands of someone pissed enough to use it... and strong enough to rip it off its sliding track… What was it? Metal? Steel? Eh, not strong enough to stop an angry Satan anyway.

After the dust settled, he double-checked to be sure the MC was okay and apologized for being so careless... But they could tell he was still trying his best to regain his composure post berserker freakout. Someone's going to have to nurse those bloody knuckles for him later...

His overprotective instincts tripled afterward. If you think that Satan was ever going to put them down again then that’s a fantasy. Between the lesser demons and that sly bastard Solomon, tiny!MC was never leaving his hand at RAD again. Period.

Asmodeus

Excuse me?? Some lesser demon was doing what now?! Oh HELL no!! Not to his adorable tiny!MC!!

Asmo was shopping with tiny!MC and set them down outside a dressing room while he tried on a cute outfit. Apparently, a lesser demon was doing the same in the stall next to him and came out to find a little human waiting patiently outside… powerless… vulnerable… and tasty!

Asmo opened the door right as the demon picked tiny!MC up to have a bite. The fifthborn's scream shattered all the mirrors in the store like he was some kind of infuriated opera singer then he ripped the demon a very verbal (and physical) new one...

Once the attacker was pretty much decimated, Asmo tended to the MC like they'd just gotten dragged through an active war zone. He asked them, "Are you okay?!" so many times that the words "I’m fine" pretty much lost all meaning...

The sheer carnage left the store employees too damn petrified to ask him to leave so he bought the (now ruined) outfit he had on and took them right home. His sweet tiny!MC was definitely getting a spa treatment that night as an apology… Poor thing...

Beelzebub

Apparently, some people just want to go bear poking for fun...

He and tiny!MC were outside a food stall and he had set them down to go wait in line. In hindsight, he probably should have known the meals would attract other hungry demons… ones that wouldn't mind a free snack… And tiny!MC got cornered pretty quickly while his back was turned.

Those demons might have thought twice about their plan, though, if they had known Beel would attack them with the entire stall itself. 😰

Poor tiny!MC, by some miracle, barely got out of the way of the wooden structure crashing down on top of their attackers as if dropped by the heavens in a fit of rage... Those not crushed under the wreckage got squashed under Beel's fists...

In the aftermath, Beel was barely recognizable when he picked them back up, holding his bitty human so close that they might have suffocated against his chest. Even the stall's very upset owner just backed away from him after getting a ferocious snarl…

It took him a couple hours to calm back down… Then a couple hundred apologies to Lucifer who has to foot the bill for that guy's ruined livelihood… But hey, no one would ever be dumb enough to touch his tiny!MC again. 

Belphegor

Heeeey! Picking on tiny!MC is his thing! Like he’s going to let anyone else give them any grief…

Belphie likes to hide on the roof of RAD sometimes to take a midday nap so he thought it would be funny to hide tiny!MC from the others by taking them with him one afternoon. Both were peacefully napping when a lesser demon apparently had the same idea and found them.

Belphie woke up when he heard their distressed cries and saw the demon trying to carry tiny!MC away... Oh, he wasn't having that.

Belphie shot up and snapped the scumbag's wrist to get tiny!MC free before he effortlessly sent him flying over the edge in one fell swoop. Give this to the Avatar of Sloth, when he does get moving he’s pretty efficient.

The demon's fall got cushioned by a grove of trees below, which earned Belphie a slightly less severe lecture from Lucifer. He did, however, get a pretty rough one from Satan anyway because he took the MC like that in the first place…

Beel took custody of tiny!MC yet again but even he was grateful to his twin for protecting their little human. Tiny!MC noticed Belphie started sleeping a little lighter when he knew they were around, but he'd deny that any supposed “guilt” had anything to do with it… Whatever he says, I guess. 🙄

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

[roger-that-cap]

jack pendleton

summary: moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

author!bucky x reader

warnings: no legitimate warnings besides swearing, it kind of moves just a weensie bit fast but i think it’s cute, minimal angst, I WROTE THIS IN ONE DAY and that is a warning tbh so expect mistakes in this hunk a junk-

word count: 6.2k!

Searching for your new apartment was a terribly long and boring process, but even you couldn’t deny that finally moving in was heavenly. 

It was the first thing that you did by yourself after having a mutual break up with your boyfriend, and you would be damned if it felt anything but good. He confessed to you that he had fallen in love with a man that he met online. Not only that, but an Italian man that he was teaching English to over a website. He was brave enough to tell you as soon as he realized that he loved the man, so the heartbreak was minimal. 

You never told him, but honestly, you sort of respected him for that. So, with your hidden respect and gratitude, you wished him well and knew that you were going to be the one to find a new place. 

 So there you stood, right in front of your new place with a singular box in your arms, all the others in the smallest U-Haul available to rent that you drove there. You stared at your door for a moment, which read an embroidered C7, and then you fiddled with your keys to unlock it.  

  You had a lot of work to do. 

§§§

By the end of the fourth day, mostly all of your things were put away. You didn’t think you had much to begin with, but unpacking made you realize that you had more than you thought. So with your ambitious mind, you got everything done on your own, even the decorations that you had at your last appointment were on the walls. 

 By the seventh day, it was starting to feel like home again. And that called for a celebration. You got your purse and your car keys, your mind already in the shopping mall. 

  As you stepped out of your door, the door directly across from yours opened too. You didn’t pay them much mind besides flashing a smile and turning around to lock your own door, not even looking at whoever it was properly enough to see them. But when you did, you definitely did. 

 A man with long, brown hair and clear blue eyes was staring at you like a deer in the headlights, and you would have thought that he mistook you for a celebrity if it weren’t for the wrinkle of confusion on his forehead. The first thought that came to your mind was that he was as stiff as a board, and that it was almost comical. The second thought that came to your mind was that this man was very handsome, despite the way that he was looking at you like you had just said the dumbest thing known to man. 

 “Um, hello,” you said, not even having to be loud because you were just a few feet apart. You were tempted to be a smartass and say something rude about his incessant staring, but instead, you reminded yourself that you were going to have to deal with the consequences of your smart remark later on. Humiliation and awkwardness every time you saw him was not what you wanted. “Have a good day.” 

  You turned to your left and walked down the stairs, thankful that you lived on the edge of the hall and could just run down some steps to get away from whatever that “encounter” was. 

§§§

The mall was utterly packed, but that didn’t matter to you at all. You were there to browse for something that was going to make you even happier after your move, and a few people in line weren’t going to bother you. You went in and out of clothing stores, buying a few things here and there, and then on your way out, you passed by a bookstore. 

  You liked books, you really did. But you were avoiding that store like the plague. For you to go into a bookstore with so many options available, you knew that the safest route for your budget was to know what you were getting from the second you walked in. You stood in front of it for a second, debating on going in without looking online beforehand or just coming back another day. Your own feet answered the question for you, and then you were entering the huge book store.

 The shelves were high and wide and sturdy, dark brown and creating isles. Fantasy, Young Adult, Spiritual, Languages. The genres went as far as you could see. And that meant that if you weren’t wise, you could be buying a book from every aisle.

  You counted the number of shelves, seeing that there were almost thirty as far as you knew, and then took out the two dice that you took with you everywhere, for reasons like this. You were indecisive, and two little cubes with black dots on them were as sure as it could get. They were your Decision Dice. They had never steered you wrong before, and today wouldn’t be the day. You were going to roll twice, and if the sum was a number less than ten, then you would multiply it by two, which was your lucky number.  You liked to make things difficult. 

You saw a woman staring at you with cautious eyes as you bent down and shook your closed hand, and you heard her chuckle when she saw the two little cubes roll out of your palm. 

  “Four,” you murmured once you saw three dots on one and one on the other. You picked them up and shook your hand again. “Three. That makes seven, and seven times two makes aisle fourteen.” You picked up the dice (that you would never admit came from your grandpa’s set of Yahtzee) and walked past the still laughing woman in the science fiction aisle.  

  Of course, aisle fourteen was the aisle that you probably had the least business in. Romance. You almost walked away and went for the fifteenth instead, but then what would the point in rolling be? What would stop you from denying the Decision Dice in later situations? You sighed for a second after your own dramatics and looked the shelves up and down, trying to find a title that grabbed you. 

 You walked up and down the aisle, slowly combing through until you saw a book on the bottom shelf by some Jack Pendleton. You frowned. It wasn’t often that you saw men’s names in the romance section, and when you did, you hardly liked what they wrote. The love interest was always flat or too out there to be believable. The female love interest in men’s books always had to be “not like other girls”, and it was worn out. For some reason, you reached down for it anyway, ready to see what you had already seen a million times before. 

  What you really ended up seeing shocked you. 

It was about a man who served in the army oversees and came back an amputee, and became locked in a love triangle between his physical therapist and his best friend, all the while dealing with his sexuality. 

  That was a lot of man versus self. You wanted it. 

You stood up and without second thought walked to the counter, handing the cashier the book and getting out your credit card. 

§§§

You cracked open the book the second you threw your fast food trash away in your trash can. You made yourself comfortable on your little couch and put some light music on in the background, just so that it wouldn’t be completely silent. You didn’t do well with silence at all. 

 It took all of four pages for Jack Pendleton to surprise you again. His writing style was gorgeous and smooth, and you cold tell that he meant every word that was printed on the pages. His diction was brilliant, his descriptions even better. He didn’t give too much or too little, and you were already falling in love with it. 

  The main character, Elijah, was likeable but flawed. Within the first thirty pages, you could already sense that he was gaining feelings that he didn’t even know about for his best friend, Will, who wasn’t named until about forty pages at Elijah’ first physical therapy appointment. Will hadn’t even shown up yet. 

You had blown through nearly half the book when you realized that it was eleven at night, and that you had work the next morning. You swore to yourself and put a smaller piece of paper in your book this time, looking at it longingly and patting it on the spine before leaving it on the small coffee table. 

§§§

Work was horrible. It was boring, and you spent the whole first part of your day with a man who was mad at you specifically because you ran out of a special type of shoe that he needed to wear the next day. The store that you worked at wasn’t even really a shoe store. Then, he asked to see the manager. You were the shift manager. He got so pissed that he threw a hanger at you and stormed out, and all you could do was laugh. 

 You were so tired of retail, it wasn’t even funny. 

 You were a little more than a hundred and twenty pages in when there was a knock on your door, and it came right as you were about t flip the page. You resisted the urge to scream, completely and utterly fed up with the public for the day. There was no use in trying to ignore the knocking that already yanked your mind out of the fictional world, and so you left the book on your couch, sticking a piece of paper in it quickly to save your page. 

You swung the door open, expecting to find someone who wanted you to fill out a survey or maybe even someone from maintenance making sure that everything was okay with your apartment. You certainly didn’t expect to see your beautiful neighbor with a pie in his gloved hands and a pink flush on his face. 

  He spoke first. “Hi, I live across the floor,” he pointed towards the door that you knew he lived behind. “I was just coming to bring you a welcoming gift.”  

  You were stunned. The man who stared you down and didn’t even say a word to you was at your door with what looked like a homemade pie, and wow, was that a turn of events. It was something straight out of that cheesy romance section that you were in at the bookstore. “Wow, thank you. You made that?”

  The pink on his cheeks graduated to scarlet. “I-yeah, I did.” 

You couldn’t contain the grin that stretched onto your face. “That’s really kind of you, thank you. I’m sure I’ll love it.” You gently took it from his hands and smiled up at him. 

  “It’s also an apology, for staring at you like that when you were leaving.” You noticed his subtle accent and fought the urge to swoon. He was so adorably shy. “No one’s lived in this one for years, and I didn’t notice you moving in. Kinda scared me.” 

 “You didn’t see the moving truck?” You asked teasingly.

You saw the small grimace on his face, and your smile faltered. “I don’t really go outside much,” he said vaguely, and you felt that you hit a nerve. 

  You shrugged with the pie still in your hands, lips turning upwards at him. “It’s okay, I don’t, either.” 

  You were both smiling now. 

“Well, um,” he started to say, and you nodded your head at him, already knowing that he was about to go. “I have to finish something. I’ll see you later?” 

 “There’s a pretty good chance that you will,” you said, and he gave an awkward wave before turning around and walking away, right into his apartment without another look back. You cursed softly when he shut his door, and you looked down at the pie. 

You didn’t even get his name.

§§§

You realized after five days of nothing (and cleaning out the pan of delicious pie by yourself) that you weren’t going to see your neighbor by chance. You hoped that you would, more than you hoped for anything else before. But he was right. He didn’t go outside much. The doors in the building were all so loud that it was nearly impossible not to hear them opening or shutting, and you never heard his once. 

You had to do it yourself. Somehow, you needed to figure out how to see him again without it being incredibly weird, but you had a plan. In your eyes, it was pretty foolproof. Your mom’s chicken parmesan could never go wrong, and everyone liked to eat. You went to the grocery store without even having to roll the Decision Dice and got started on it the second you got home.

***

When it was done, there was a thin line of sweat on your forehead. You put a note to yourself in your head that the kitchen got insanely hot when you cooked, and you vowed to remember it next time. You took off your fancy apron and the chef’s hat that you wore for fun when you cooked and set it on the countertop. Now, the hard part came.

How were you supposed to get brave enough to bring a plate over to his place? Were you supposed to hope that he hadn’t eaten yet? Or, were you supposed to let him in to eat? Shit, that sounded too much like a date.

With all those thoughts in mind, you walked up to his door, C6, and knocked on it. You realized last minute that you forgot the plate on the table, so dinner was over at your apartment by default unless you did an awkward dash across the hall. The sound of boots coming towards the door were loud and clear, and then the door opened, barely giving you enough time to swallow your anxieties. You got a panging irrational fear that he wouldn’t remember you, but were relieved when he smiled down at you.

“Hi,” you said, sounding more like a telemarketer than a neighbor. “I made chicken parmesan.” It was silent for a few seconds as you both tried to make sense of what was happening, and you kicked yourself on the inside. “I made a plate for you because um, I wanted to thank you for the pie. It was really good.”

His face lit up, and it was like you were given a new burst of life and hope simultaneously. “Oh, thank you! That’s really sweet, thank you,” he repeated, his words getting slightly jumbled up the more and more he spoke. He was so cute. 

You realized that the both of you were just staring at each other, standing with smiles that were increasingly leaning towards more than polite by the second. “I can, uh, bring it to your door if you want.”

“I can come over, if that makes it easier.” Both sentences were spoken at the same time, and it caused you both to apologize once again at the same time. “No, no, I’ll come back with you,” he said when you two finally spoke your own sentences. 

You tilted your head. You were sure that he was shy, you could have bet money on him wanting to eat alone. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he gave you a small smile and stepped out of his apartment, and suddenly, you were aware of how he smelled like a bakery. Flower, sugar, apples, cinnamon, the whole nine. Your eyes widened when you smelled more of it when he shut his door. It smelled amazing. You didn’t want to be greedy, but whatever he had in there, you wanted a slice. 

   Your apartment smelled good, but in the opposite way. It smelled like sauce and spices and chicken, like a good kitchen. You almost laughed when you saw his eyes widen after he caught a whiff. His eyes scanned the table that was already set up for one, and he saw all the food in the middle and only grew more surprised. 

 “You did all of this yourself?” 

You didn’t think it was a big deal. You knew how to plate food and you knew how to cook it fine, but it wasn’t too special, in your opinion. It was second nature because of your mother, but you could always go for a nice compliment. “Yeah, I have fun cooking.”

  “It looks amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled at him. 

“Let’s hope it tastes as good.” 

It felt oddly domestic. You got his plate for him and watched him make his first because he was the guest, and you warned him about touching the hot pan, even though he didn’t seem worried about it with his gloves on. You asked him if he wanted wine, water, or soda, and he got his own glass of water after saying that he felt bad making you do it. By the time you sat down and started twirling your fork in your spaghetti, you were starving. 

 You heard him take his first bite more than you saw him do it. “Holy-” he put his hand in front of his mouth. “You made this here?” 

You laughed. “Mhm.” 

“Are you a chef, or something?”

You were flattered. “No, but my mother is,” and man, was she a cook. She could cook anything and make it taste good if you gave her a flame. Always, she had pressured you into knowing how to make a meal, because making a meal meant providing for yourself and everyone else in your family. You watched him cut into a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth, smiling when he gave you the “food look”. “She taught me everything I know.” 

“Well, I’m about to call her and thank her,” he joked, and you giggled, twirling your own fork and getting some spaghetti in your mouth. You tilted your head. It was pretty good. 

  “And what about you? You can bake,” and there he was, all shy again, and you loved it. “Where did you learn?” 

“My father’s a baker,” he said, and a slow smile spread across your face. 

“Well, would you look at that,” you said, nodding your head in thought. He smiled back. 

 “Would you look at that.” 

For a second, just like the two of you had done many times before, you were stuck in a world where there wasn’t anything else, not even the food. It was just his smile and yours, and the fact that somehow both of you knew that the moment was genuine. 

  “I’m so sorry, what’s your name?” He blurted, and you frowned. 

“My name?” A flame of embarrassment and shame shot through you. You were fawning over a man that you didn’t even know the name of yet. You sister would be disgusted with you. “Oh, have we really not said our names yet?” 

 “I guess not...” he said, voice trailing off at the end. 

“Well, good thing names aren’t that important.” 

He gave you an intrigued look. “Names aren’t important?”

“They can be, but sometimes they don’t mean a thing. You can learn so much about someone before learning their name, and when you do, nothing changes what you already know. I cook and I like spending money in book stores, and you bake and stay inside. That doesn’t change after we learn names.” 

 He looked like he had just reached cloud nine. “You like books?”

“Of course I do,” you said, and your eyes trailed over to the book that was sitting on your couch. “I actually took that little name bit from what I learned from a book, so I won’t take credit for that.” 

  “What book was so in depth and interested with names?”

“I don’t even think that the main focus was the name, I think it was the opposite. His name didn’t matter because all that mattered were the emotions that came with him.” You took a second to think. “And I also think that saying his name made it real for the main character, so the dude’s name didn’t come up until he was in mid conversation.” 

  At first, you were worried that you lost him. But you hadn’t. “He was in love with this person?” 

“Madly. But he was his best friend.” You were so excited. You were really talking to a man who liked to read? And one who liked to analyze what he read? This must have been heaven. “For a while, all we hear about is how amazing the person is that he fell in love with and about how he struggled with loving him because he was a man. We knew everything about him before his name was even said and before he was even present, and that’s probably what I like most so far about the book.” 

   Through your rambling, you failed to notice that he was looking more and more panicked. “Um, what’s the book called?” 

   “Here, I’ll just go get it,” you said, standing up and walking over to your couch, pulling it off and walking over to him. You set the book down, and watched his eyes grow so wide that he looked cartoonish. “Have you read it?” 

  He blinked at the cover. “Y-yeah, I’ve read it.” He looked at his watch, swore so emptily that you swore it was acting, and then gave you an apologetic look. “Um, I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  So, you did scare him off. You hid your frown with a polite smile, and tried to remind yourself that even though it felt like one, it wasn’t a date. It was you paying him back for making you something in his own kitchen. “Oh, alright. I hope you liked it.” 

 Maybe he heard something in your voice that you didn’t, because he stopped frantically putting his jacket on to look you in the eyes. “It was amazing, I mean that. And it was very sweet, thank you.”

  This is crashing and burning. What the hell happened? It was going so well! “Well, I’ll see you later,” you called out, and you watched him wash his own plate with a shocked look on your face. “Thanks,” you whispered, and he nodded at you, a tight smile on his face as he wrapped a gloved hand around the doorknob and left. 

***

Maybe you hadn’t scared him away, after all. 

You had full intentions of leaving him alone until he came to you, if it was ever even going to happen. You only left for work and debated on finding something simple to bake for him to extend another olive branch, but then you decided that you would let the universe control what happened, if anything was even meant to happen in the first place. There was a knock on your door, and there he was, with a pan of cupcakes that had blue icing perfectly swirled on top. 

  Alright, so you hadn’t. 

He gave you the cutest smile, and you couldn’t help but to give one back. “Hi, I’m Bucky.” You gave him your name, too. 

From then on, you two were practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t at work, he was over with you, watching a movie and talking about foreshadowing or how good the book version would have been if it came first. He was also one of the only people you knew who had actually read Tarzan, and you got a kick out of it. You got so close that you even met his little quartet of friends, Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who all liked you after the first meeting. You fit in with them like a glove. 

 Speaking of... “Why do you wear gloves?” You had asked him one day, and he stiffened up like a board. 

“I get cold easily on my hands,” he explained coolly, and you let it go. 

There were little things about him that you questioned every time after he went back home. You questioned how he never left his apartment but made enough money to keep it. You asked yourself how he was so busy in there, and what exactly he did. You wondered why he got so funny when you mentioned the book, and how nervous he was to talk about it when you finally finished it. All of those things slightly worried you, but they had nothing on the one, huge thought that loomed over all the others. 

 You were falling hard and fast for Bucky Barnes. A part of you could admit that you were already on the ground. 

  If started off slowly. You admired his mind and his smile and the way that his eyes shined when he taught you how to bake a perfect cake without all the fancy, expensive supplies. You loved the way that his cheeks glowed when you complimented him or touched his hair or his nose. You loved that he started calling you “darling” and the way that his Brooklyn accent left out the last letter. You loved the way that things with him already felt so natural, like you cooking dinner and him helping you wash and dry dishes after. You were in for the long haul before you could even reach for the door handle of the speeding car, and you didn’t really want to. 

   There was a knock on your door out of courtesy, and you called out for him to let himself in. You were way past knocking, but he was polite. You were tapping away at the keys on your laptop, humming to yourself as you looked into Jack Pendleton. 

  “Watcha doin’, darlin’?” He set down the items you two needed for homemade lasagna and his father’s recipe for some simple pumpkin bread on the counter. 

“I’m trying to find more books by Jack Pendleton,” you muttered, sighing when nothing else came up. “I can’t find anything.”

 “Why do you like that book so much, anyway?” You were far too into your laptop to hear the tremor in his voice. 

 “Because it was raw, and real, and it hurt my feelings.” 

Oh, and it had. Bucky witnessed the result of you finishing the book first hand. He walked in right as you got the first sob out and looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, but he came to you anyway. How were you supposed to know that the therapist, an equally important person in the main character’s life, was going to pass away not even days after he and Will got their happiness? 

  You remembered how he held you the whole time, and that for some reason, he whispered a very heartfelt, “I’m sorry.” 

  “If it hurt you so much, why would you want to read something by him again?” 

“It was brilliant, that’s why, cowboy.” You said, looking up and pointing at him with your fancy little stylus. He broke out into a smile at the name, like he always did. You called him that one time because you caught him watching The Longest Ride, and it stuck. 

  There was a stretched, tense moment as the sound of your typing filled the room. “I don’t think he has anything else out right now, darlin’.” 

“And how would you know, rancher?” 

He gave you that same deer in headlights stare that he gave you when he first saw you in the hall, only less confused. Then he sighed. “What’s in a name, anyway?” 

 You rolled your eyes, but you both knew that you were on the edge of laughing. You could never be serious with him. He was just so full of light. “You’re not going to get me quoting Shakespeare right now, I just asked you a dire question.” 

 He inhaled deeply, his face already boasting a rich scarlet. “How would you feel if I told you that I wrote that book?”

  Your world crumbled beneath your feet. You knew he wasn’t lying, because you knew that he had no reason to lie. His aversion to talking about Jack Pendleton and everything surrounding it made you believe what he told you right as you heard it. You gasped, and then saw him grimace. “Bucky, Jack stole your work?” 

  His face fell. “What?”

“Have you taken legal action yet?” 

  “No,” he said slowly, and then he took in another deep breath, preparing from something. “I don’t need to, because I am Jack.” He said slowly, a small and guarded smile resting on his face. You noticed that he looked the least comfortable you had ever seen him. “It’s a pen name.” 

  Different kinds of humiliation were coming in large, mean waves, and you bit your lip to prevent from talking. You had really gushed over a book right in front of the author the whole time? It was so horrible and embarrassing that you couldn’t even stop thinking about it. You felt like an idiot. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop talking?” 

There was a quick, hesitant intake of breath between the both of you. “Because I don’t want anyone that I know in real life to know about that.” 

You froze. There was no way that he was implying that what was in the book actually happened, right? 

 He took off both of his gloves, and beneath one of them was a silver appendage, very clearly a prosthetic. He was breathing heavily, like he had just lifted a weight off of his chest that was double his own size. You looked at it with a wild expression of your own, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

 “Almost everything in that book really happened.” You closed your mouth. “Some things are exaggerated, but nearly everything happened. Elijah is based off of me.” 

  Oh, fuck. That meant that he was actually bisexual, that he actually fell in love with his best friend, that he actually got his arm amputated after getting a grenade launched at him. His therapist actually died. You had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.” 

 “The main thing that didn’t really happen was the semi-happy ending for Elijah and Will. He and I broke up years ago. This all happened years ago.” Your heart broke again for him. “I put it under a fake name because it’s something very personal to me, but I felt like it should have been shared. Thought that it would maybe help some other kid who was going through it.” 

You knew exactly what it was. You had gone through it yourself. If you had read the book when you were much younger, you were sure that you would have been able to find some sort of peace in the turmoil that you caused yourself. Now, you were much better, and you loved the fact that you were part of the LGBT community, but that didn’t mean that the book didn’t mean something to you. 

The book was so raw that you should have known that it was real. There wasn’t a word that didn’t mean something, not a sentence that wasn’t thought out. It was such heavy material with realistic ups and down that you caught yourself relating with Elijah, not knowing that the real “Elijah” was right in front of you the whole time.

“But, um, I write science fiction under my real name, though.” You were too busy thinking about how you gushed about someone’s actual life story, and how that someone just so happened to be your super cute neighbor that you fell in love with. You gushed about his terribly sad life story right in front of him. “That’s why I’m always inside. I’m a hermit writer.” 

You didn’t even get into the science fiction aspect of the conversation. “I would have never read it in front of you or talked about it in front of you if I knew that, I swear.” 

“I know.” He slowly took his jacket off, and then you were seeing his arms in all their glory. It truly was a beautiful prosthetic, and from how much he used his hands, you knew that it was reliable and practical. “I just needed to tell you that.” 

You could sense his unease, and it made you feel wrong. It felt like you were taking steps back. “If this is about you being bisexual, I don’t care about that. That would never bother me.” 

 For the first time since his confession, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I know. And I know you are, too.”

“Really?”

“I’ve seen the bookshelf in your room. No straight person reads that many books written by and for the community. And you cuff some of your jeans.” You shrugged, a small smirk on your face. He got you there. “I need to tell you something else.” 

You didn’t know if you were ready for it, but if he was, then there was no way that you were going to stop him. “Of course, go ahead.” 

“First, I should start off with telling you again that all of that,” he pointed towards her computer, “was about eleven years ago. I’m not healing, not recovering, none of that. Yeah, I’m sad about my therapist every once in a while, but I don’t feel anything for the man that Will is based off of anymore. That’s all gone.”

You swore at yourself for feeling butterflies of hope. You squashed them all down and made yourself pay full attention to Bucky, even though your mind was starting to have stupid little fantasies about picnic and stargazing with him. This is what you got for reading romance novels. “Okay, Buck.”

“I’m telling you all of this because I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with you.” Your mouth hung open, and before you could even get a word out, he was all over it again. “I have been for a while now, and I think now is the best time to tell you.” There was a pause for you to cut in, but you couldn’t form a word. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way or if you’re weirded out by my story-” 

“I love you too.” You blurted, watching his face become shocked. “I’ve been dying to tell you that, you know?” 

He sputtered, trying his hardest to form a coherent sentence. “Now I know.” 

You felt a smile slide onto your face as both of your racing hearts stilled to a normal, content rate. In that moment, you swore that if someone came and checked, that your heartbeats were alternating, taking energy from each other to make one long beat. You just, clicked.

“It- none of that bothers you at all?”

“If anything, I feel bad. I feel like I intruded.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t intrude, Y/N, I’m the one who published it.”

“I’m going to hug you now,” you warned, and then you two met each other half way. Your face was in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. You smiled when you felt him gently brush your forehead with his lips, and all felt right.

You stood there together for what felt like forever but two seconds all the same, swaying a bit subconsciously. “Are you- are you sure about being okay with all of this? I know it’s a lot. And I just kind of sprung it on you.”

There he was. The shy Bucky. You knew that he could be insecure, and you knew that he was insecure about being that way. But luckily, you felt for him so much that you could assure him for the rest of both of your days with no complaints. If it took a thousand times a day for Bucky Barnes to know that you loved him and Jack Pendleton and Elijah Harris, you would do it two thousand times.

 “Out of all the books in the store, I unknowingly chose yours.” Your voice was shaky, but you meant every word you said and were about to say. “And out of all the people in the world, I intentionally, without doubt choose you.” 

***

If someone had asked you three years ago where you thought you were going to be in life in the same amount of time, you would have told them that you were probably still going to be working in retail. That wasn’t the case at all.

  Your mother gave you a loan when Bucky persuaded you to take your talent and passion for cooking and turn it into a business. You had a medium sized restaurant that you let your mother in on, and you cooked side by side often times. It felt just like it did when you were back in the kitchen of your childhood home, but now you were getting paid for it, quite a bit. 

  Across the street from your restaurant was a bookstore that held a number of books that were written by Bucky yourself, but your favorite by far was the cook book that was technically a baking book, full of all of the recipes that he felt like giving away. 

  You didn’t expect any of that to happen within three years, at all. But what you hoped to happen most of all did, and it was proven by the simple diamond on your finger that Bucky had given you. You wanted him to think that you were surprised when he popped the question, but you weren’t. 

  After all, you could see the outline of the box that he carried for three weeks straight. 

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #my fics #bucky one shot

[askdracomalfoyofficial]

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𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Note: The paragraphs that are in italic are the thoughts he is thinking —

TW: Mild thoughts of killing her. Swearing. Possession. Nothing to serious, but thought I would put this before-hand. Enjoy!

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It all started after I had called you a Mudblood. You see, my father taught me all about blood-status, pure-bloods being the highest form of witch or wizard. Magic comes easy to us, our veins are filled with it. We have control over it. Then theres you, someone who has Muggle parents, making you just that. How you had a outburst of magic is something I'm currently questioning. I can certainly see you being someone who's Drabble around with it, study it in your books.

But my father warned me about people like you. Warned me that your blood is dirty, and anyone whom surrounds themselves around you, or even do much as become friends with you is a blood-traitor.

Anyone under us, we don't care for.

Yet, there was something about you that had always piqued my interest somehow, someway or another. I can't tell you what it is, Granger. But, Merlin… I don't know how you are our Brightest Witch of Her Age became such a thing for a Muggle-born. You and your swatty ways, always raising your bloody hand in class every two, three seconds. Basically… dissecting the answers or things the Professors would teach us. God, how I wished I could cut your hands off, or cast a silencing charm on you so your mouth stops moving, you annoying wrench.

The witch with unruly messy mop on her head. Tame your fucking mane, Granger. Get some tips from Pansy for all I care, maybe then… you'd learn something. But, you're not someone who cares about appearances are you? You're the first girl I know to not. Doesn't surprise me.

He breathes out a sigh.

I bloody fucking hate you. You have no idea. I want to wrap my hands around your throat, and watch the life leave your eyes but not as much as I want to run my fingers through your hair, grab a fistful and yank your head back just to crash my lips onto yours. To make you feel the hate I have for you, to make your lips swollen. To have my tongue vigorously dance with yours, a duel to win. I want to press my lips to your neck, find your pulse and feel it beat against my lips then suck your breath from you. Suffocate in your aroma, to smell your hair and taste the salt of your skin against my tongue.

“For instance… I smell,” she leans her face more over the steam. “Freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and–“ Her words trailed off as she started to realize who it was.

Thinking about it is repulsive, thinking about you, specifically is repulsive. I’m thinking about all this, while you're smelling your Amortentia, and I bet what you're smelling is that daft bimbo, Weaselby.

Ah, the lovely Amortentia. The most powerful love potion that there is. It has a smell for each and every individual according to what attracts them.

Draco adjusts his stance, hands finding a home in the pocket of his trousers. Eyes on her, more so the back of her head, watching while she smells the steam that swirls endlessly up towards her face, and the way her hair grows with the humidity. In a way, it matches the way his had been tousled at his fringe. It looks as if someone had ran their fingers through his own hair and ruffled it up. Hers just looks like straight bed head, yet not taken care of.

His brow raised, looking through his lashes at her.

Weaselby smells like mown grass, well that's quite bloody disgusting. And, you're telling me that's what attracts you?

A scoff slipped out from somewhere in the room, and for a moment he panicked because he knew it came from him the moment Blaise lifted his eyes to look at him with a brow of his own raised. But, Draco's eyes were on the back of her head, which in that moment he regretted because she turned around and automatically met his. Jaw muscles worked as it snapped shut, clenching his teeth together.

Don't look at me like that. Who do you think you are?

Professor Slughorn dismissed the class, he hurried to get his things situated and left the room without so much as a second glance back at his fellow classmates; including her. But he could feel the way that her eyes bored into his back, setting his skin ablaze.

Eventually, Blaise caught up to him. “What was all that back there, mate?”

“What? What do you mean was all that?” He stopped in his tracks, and lifted his eyes to meet Blaise’s but grew uncomfortable and looked away, ah, the stone wall was helping particularly well in this moment.

“Why did you act that way after Granger smelled her Amortenia?”

Merlin! He wasn't going to let this up. Fucking always so observant.

“Because what she smelled was ridiculous.”

“No, what is it really? You can't possibly think I'm that stupid, Draco.” He persisted.

Draco’s eyes gravitated back to him. Jaw tight. “What would you like me to say, Blaise? Is there a specific thing you're expecting me to answer with? Because whatever you're trying to get out of me, isn't there. So, I suggest that you stop while you're ahead.” Was what he left the conversation with.

Blaise, if I told you anything, you'd think that I’ve gone bloody mental, shit, I'm beginning to wonder myself if I did.

All through the years I’ve been watching Hermione Granger, bullying her and her friends because I get amusement out of the looks on their faces. How I know that I piss them off, and I'm good at it. There was once a part of me who loved to watch her cry, to bathe in those tears that fell down her cheeks, those very cheeks I want to grab in my hand and attack her jaw with my lips.

Draco shook his head as if he were trying to dismiss the thoughts, dismiss the way he was feeling and thinking as they weren't quite appropriate.

This year was so utterly fucked. I just want it to be over.

He made his way through the corridors, retreating from Blaise and dipping around the corner. He needed some down time, perhaps the library would do some good. Settle down with a book, in a far corner sounded lovely.

An hour gone by, and he'd been so enveloped in multiple books because he couldn't just decide on one and he needed to distract his mind from the interaction with Blaise, and Hermione interfering his thoughts.

But low and behold, she came into the library. Of course! The know-it-all loved to read just as much as he did.

Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me.

Draco rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw tight and pretended to read but every so often his gaze would lift to where she was. She was huffing loudly, even two exasperated sighs left her mouth. His teeth gritted and the muscle in his jaw worked.

After a couple of moments, perhaps five minutes gone by of her continuing with her loud outbursts of breathing, huffs and sighs he had enough of it all. Draco slammed the book shut, picking up the others and went to return them to their slots. When he was done, he approached her. Shouldering the frame of one of the bookshelves.

“Do you need to be so loud? This is a library for a reason.” His voice was cold, like a cool breeze brushing through the space between them. By the looks of it, he could tell that when he spoke that he had startled her.

She turned around mid-way while pulling out a book. Her chocolate-colored eyes lifted to meet his with a glare. Her head tilted to the side, and a retort was just waiting to leave her mouth. Draco had noticed this when he seen her lips twitch.

“Do you wish for me to apologize to you? Because,” she scoffed, crossing her arms with the book over her chest and under one arm. “You won't be getting it.”

“Who said anything about you apologizing?” His brow raised. “It's the fact that you are in a library, being loud with just your breath.”

Hermione looked around them. “Seems to me like we're the only ones in here, Malfoy. So —” she put the book back and moved down the shelf more, opposite of where he was standing. “I don't really see a problem here, you're just always bothered unless it's you doing something someone doesn't like.” She retorted, rather calmly.

How are you always able to handle your composure when around me. Yes — keep going down the aisle, pretty soon you'll be stuck in that corner.

Draco’s jaw snapped, his throat clicked. He hadn't really observed the room when he came in, but she was right about it being empty and the only ones in there being them. What a situation to be in.

“And you breathing loudly happens to be something that I don't like. I wouldn't be standing here right now if otherwise.” A hand slipped from across his chest, as his index finger lifted from the light fist he held, raising it like he were thinking before taking a step closer, slowly. “I am always bothered by you. Your presence is insufferable. Anywhere I go, I always have to see your face, I'm repulsed by it.”

It's true, I am always bothered by you. You are insufferable, but I am sure I could put you into your place; if you'd let me. I may be repulsed by your face, but I can't help but also like looking at it, at those lips —

She laughed manically, like what he said was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard, or perhaps she had seen right through him. Hermione stopped what she was doing with the books, what book was she trying to find anyways? Her body shifted, feet angled towards him and arms remained crossed over her chest.

“You're the only one who thinks these things, and quite frankly they do not bother me.”

Man, you are bloody stubborn — not as much as I am.

He stepped closer, a hand coming up to grip onto the edge of the shelf. His own height towering over her own, blocking out the library light from her face. They were now sharing each other's exhaled breathes, and he knew she could feel the way his ghosted along her face. She didn't at all seem bothered by his presence now crowding her, backed into the corner of a bookshelf. He was looming over her.

“They don't bother you?” He asked and his tone dripped sarcasm. She shifted uncomfortably. “Do tell me, what does bother you then?”

“Why would that be something you're curious about? Since when did you care about what bothers me or not?”

Draco smirks, his head turning to the side while his eyes fell to the door of the library. Tongue grazing the bottom of his upper teeth. “You're right,” he turned his head back, glaring down through his lashes. “Why would I care? I don't care for someone of the liking of you.”

With that — he leaned down towards her more, for a moment he looked as though he were going to kiss her. But it was just to give a look of intimidation before his weight pressed into the hand that gripped the shelf to push himself off. Hands finding their way back into his trouser pockets.

I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much and you already know that don't you, Granger? Because I make it known, it's all over my face whenever you look at me, whenever we run into each-other. I hate you, yet I want to fucking kiss you, I want to do these things to do you that I, when I was younger couldn't see myself doing. Let alone have never done with a witch before besides Pansy, she always knew how to keep my best interests in mind.

I want to have my hands in your hair, tangled in my fingers and watch as your curled locks fall through. I want my hand around your throat possessively, let my thumb graze along your jaw and down the front of your throat like I'm thirsty for you and just want a little taste.

I want to have your clothes pooled at your feet while my eyes roam your naked canvas, I want to take in every scar, beauty mark, freckle. I want to do it all.

I want to trace the pads of my fingers down your spine, to your tailbone and trail them around to your hips.

I want to do so much to you — I want to possess you.

But then I'm reminded just by looking at you that you're a Muggle witch, and I fucking hate you, you're repulsive and insufferable. A know-it-all swat, who just can't keep her fucking mouth shut.

I'm conflicted, my stomach is in knots and this'll be the one thing that takes me to my very grave.

#personal #writers #dramione #dramionestan #dramione fanfic #oneshot #draco malfoy #Hermione granger #harry potter universe #Dramione fandom #my work #I hope you lovely Dramione shippers enjoy #possessive Draco #hateful Draco #toxic Draco #etc etc etc

[simonsrosebud]

Ok I love kalton so much I need to know: how does dalton take care of Kevin when he's being all moody like he often is? How does Kevin repay the favor when Dalton has a bad day? Kalton has legitimately improved my mood the past few days I love what you've been doing here <3<3<3

at first i read this as “how does he take care of him” as in like when they’re sick but this prompt is so much better

dalton has two sisters.  younger sisters.  that being said, he knows how to deal with moody children and teenage girls.

kevin isn’t either of those, but when he’s in a mood it’s not far off.

today, he’s pissed off.

he can’t help it.  they only have four freshmen this year, none goalies, and andrew decided to fuck with him at practice.  renee and neil had their appointments with betsy, and andrew refused to step on the court.

and since neil wasn’t there to get him back on, they had no goalie’s to practice on.

andrew knew kevin was leading today’s practice with reading goalie’s movements and shooting on the goal and he deliberately fucked it up on purpose.  by the time neil and renee rejoin them practice is already over.

dalton is picking him up from the stadium, and when he pulls up kevin is shouting at andrew, who looks unbothered.  “-here for!  you can’t keep pulling this shit over and over just because you’re fucking bored!  you think they’re going to tolerate it in ur pros?!  all i fucking wanted was one practice, andrew!  that’s it!”  and then neil says something he can’t hear, but it prompts a shouting match between him and kevin in french.  hands waving and balled fists at their sides.

and dalton knows better.  knows not to get involved and to just wait until they’re done.  so when kevin spits the last word and throws up his middle finger after turning away he starts the car up again.

kevin doesn’t talk the whole car ride, and when they get inside dalton cracks.  “i don’t know what happened today, but if you don’t want to talk it out then either go take another shower or put your sneakers back on.”

kevin looks over, and after a minute he sighs and laces up his shoes.

now he’s annoyed his boyfriend.  he doesn’t want to face andrew and neil yet.

except dalton doesn’t take him home.  he leads him to the ground floor of the building where the gym is.  he grabs gloves from a shelf, tosses them at kevin, and points to the punching bag across the room.

“i wanna spend my day with my boyfriend, not his alter ego.  the bag’s name is andrew.”

kevin huffs, and pulls his hoodie over his head.  he drops it to the ground to put the gloves on, and trudges over to the bag.  “come on, kev.  you’re pouting like my sister does when she’s not allowed to sleep over her boyfriend’s.”  kevin starts up and dalton goes to stand on the other side of the bag.  no one else is in the gym, otherwise he’d think twice before taking his shirt off.  “need incentive?  if you’re moody the rest of the day you’re not allowed to sleep over your boyfriend’s, either.”

kevin goes at the punching bag like it’s his job.  he hates to admit that it makes him feel better.  and when dalton pulls him away from it to kiss him it doesn’t hurt.

after he’s showered back at the apartment, he invades dalton’s space and lays his head on his lap.  “sorry for being a bitch earlier.”

it makes dalton laugh.  “you had a bad day, everyone has bad days.  so long as we know how to handle it.”

kevin shrugs.  “yeah.”  he tells him about why he was so mad, and takes a deep breath.  “i know he does it to get under my skin and it works.”

when dalton gets annoyed at something he tends to say so right when he walks in.  he drops his bag inside the door and toes his shoes off.  “some of my students are fucking dicks.”

kevin’s doing homework on the sofa, but discards it when his boyfriend climbs into his lap.  “what’d they do?”

dalton groans into his chest.  his voice is muffled by kevin’s hoodie.  “only half of them did the homework assigned last week, and one kid sent me an email today that said like ‘this class fucking sucks no one cares about blah blah blah do you wanna skip on wednesday’, he meant to send it to his friend in the class.”  he sits up.  “i try to make it fun for them.  it’s a gen-ed class so i know the majority of them are just taking it to get it over with, but i-i see so many of them wearing exy shirts from time to time and being interested in it so i try to talk exy- you know, oh, anyone go to the game this weekend and stuff like that, but they don’t care.”

kevin puts his hands on dalton’s cheeks and squishes them together.  it makes him smile for a moment, but he falls into kevin’s lap again.  “is there anything i can do?”

dalton shrugs.  that’s a no.

but kevin gets a little hung up on it, because he gets that those kids don’t like math but he also is on dalton’s side on principle.  instead, on friday, when the team all wears their jerseys to classes and such as per tradition, he gives dalton his away jersey to wear.  “i didn’t know the exy team did that.”

he shrugs.  katelyn wears aaron’s, and allison used to wear seth’s jacket over her own jersey.  “not really.  most of the relationships on the team are within the team.”

so dalton wears it, and ten minutes before his class kevin decides to use his clout and show up to the class with two coffees.  dalton lights up when he sees him walk through the doors.  “well this is unprecedented.”

kevin notices a few students perk up at his presence, and when more filter in they all kind of subtly stare at the two.  kevin just leans against dalton’s desk while he sets up.  when he goes to pass kevin, he grabs his wrist and pulls him back a little.  “hey.  some kids hate this class because they hate the class. not you.”

dalton’s smiling, but he raises his eyebrows.  “you know they’ll still hate the class even with you here.”

“let them, but as soon as i leave, they’re going to be kiss asses.”  and dalton wants so badly to kiss that smug smirk off his face, but his students are all here and waiting.

“i’ve got a class to teach, mr. day.”

“fine.”  kevin kisses his cheek, dalton sends him a look, and walks head held high to the door.  “you’re coming to the game, d, yes?”  dalton’s cheeks are furiously red.  he always comes to the games, he doesn’t even need to ask.

“bye, kevin!”

dalton jumps on kevin when he gets back to the apartment.  “you’re a pain in my ass.”

“i was right, though, wasn’t i?”

dalton mocks his words right back at him, and kisses him into the sofa.

#kevin #kevin day #bisexual kevin day #OC: dalton miller #dalton miller #kevin day x dalton miller #the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is #exy #aftg #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #neil josten

[littlefreya]

Heart of Darkness

Synopsis: Slight sequel to Overprotected. Walter’s longing wife comes to visit him at his office.

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC

Word count: 3.9K

Warnings: Explicit, graphic smutty sex, rough oral sex, choking, role play, pleasure denial, rough sex. MaleDom / FemSub. Slight fluff though. 

A/N: A special thanks for @agniavateira or helping me proof my work. I don’t own Night Hunter / Nomins or Marshall!

Title: Heart of Darkness

The heating is broken at the station. It’s either that, or Walter came up with some new methods of torture to interrogate his suspects. I’ve never seen him in action, I’m not sure if it’s the shame of this very darkness that lives within him, or his desperate attempt to keep me safe from the horrors of the night. His colleagues filled me in a while ago, mentioning he tends to go rough, violent, even brutal at times. 

They know very little for I bask in Walter’s darkness. I’m the first to witness the terror that consumes him and shadows his soul. I drink from his desire, joining him in this violent lovemaking. It’s the only thing that helps him cleanse his demons.

It brings us closer. 

And yet, he doesn’t want me here. He fights to keep me secluded as if I was some porcelain doll. 

As if I don’t see my share of blood and death every day. 

I walk through the chilled halls of the station, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. Even though I’m wearing a large, thick winter coat, it feels like it’s four degrees here. I shouldn’t have worn a skirt beneath all this, but how could I have known? I left five text messages which remained unanswered. It’s not unusual. He is busy, and sometimes he forgets. 

It doesn’t mean this doesn’t piss me off.

I find him in his office, with a phone pressed to his ear. His bulky body faces the window while he talks down some crime lab trainee for messing up the evidence. He turns to see who dares to barge his office uninvited, his blue eyes pale as glaciers. They immediately melt as he realizes it’s me. 

“I don’t care how. Get a new sample or I’ll make sure you’ll never hear the end of this!” He ends the call without a goodbye and drops the device on his desk. His arms grab the edges of the chair tightly while he stares down, letting his soft dark curls fall on top of his forehead.

“What are you doing here, pet? You know I don’t like you coming here.” 

I take off my long coat, hanging it next to the door. His office is only slightly warmer. It’s smaller, and Walter emits enough warmth on his own. Everyone is walking around in their coats and jackets but he's in a black wool sweater per usual, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his wide forearms.

“I missed you” I answer, pretending not to tremble but the fumes that come out of my mouth give me away. 

I take a small, slow twirl in the secluded space, inspecting the room. There's so little light in here. On the shelf, he has some books about the history of crime and criminology, with his diploma and badges of honour laid next to it. Not out of pride, but out of compliance. Walter is not an arrogant man, he’s actually the opposite. He doesn’t have time for chasing glory, all he does is out of pure heroism, some would even say out of altruism.   

The morbid photos next to his desk catch my eyes. Images of victims. They hang on a board latched to the wall, along with a map, and a thick, red string that trails the locations where the bodies were found. These are young women, mutilated, their lives were stolen from them by selfish monsters. 

I get to see my share of blood every day, sometimes even death. But, this is not something anyone should see. 

And this is what he sees all the time, probably also in his dreams. The ghosts of the girls he couldn’t save haunt him; it’s not his fault, but he’d never see it that way. For him, every girl who died on his watch is a girl he has failed.  

My fingers press against the ring on my finger, twisting it anxiously. I can feel my heart shrinking to the size of a walnut. I wish I could suck the pain out of him as you do with poison.

“I told you…” he speaks with a deep frown on his face, as if he is angry with me for entering his cave of horrors. He was in a foul mood before I got here, and I defied his request. I am the one teasing the tinders with more wind and fuel. 

All I wanted was to bring my light into his world, at least for a little while.

“You visit me at work all the time,” I answer, inching closer toward his desk. I try to ignore the sourness in my throat as the horrifying images on the wall stare right at us.  

He gives me a small smile, almost invisible amongst the wrinkles of grumpiness on his forehead. 

“It’s a part of my job to come to the hospital, and it’s the only one in the county.”

That’s how we met. 

I was in my first year of residency. The tall, burly man with the most caring blue eyes appeared in the hospital. I have seen Walter once before that, spending an evening at the local Irish bar with his friends. The toughness on his face was the only thing I remembered then. I thought he was hot, obviously, though I didn’t bother approaching him. 

I didn’t fall in love with him until I saw the ocean of benevolence he kept under that hard shell. 

He came to visit a victim and stayed the night to make sure the aggressor won’t return, and that the girl is taken care of. I felt his eyes on me every now and then, silently observing me when I was checking up on other patients. He tried to strike a small conversation, about the girl first, and then about my job at the hospital. I believed the British giant was just being polite and passed the long, boring night by chit-chat. I should have known I was being interrogated to see if I’m single or not. 

Suddenly, he appeared at the hospital every other day, to check up on “the girl”. The first night, he brought me some coffee because “I work crazy hours,” and he thought I’d like some to drink. Then, it was coffee and a sweet pastry to eat. For a week and a half, I had a constant visitor who took care of my caffeine and sugar intake. My colleagues teased me for suddenly wearing perfume to work, and how I’d blush whenever “Sir Big Dick” arrived.

On the last evening, he came to my department and found me signing some charts. I’ve told him the girl was released during the morning, but of course, he knew that. He smiled at me and offered me a single red rose instead, asking if I’d like to accompany him for a real dinner this time.

Four years since then, he comes to visit even when there are no victims. Sometimes, I’m worried he does that out of fear that something will happen to me, and not just out of a romantic gesture to see his wife. 

“Is it part of your job to stalk your wife?”

He slouches on his chair heavily, making it squeak beneath his weight. His eyes rise to gaze at my face. There is a weariness in them, the kind that even sleep can’t cure anymore. I fear the day when my husband will stray too far from the light, when the heart of darkness will clutch its ugly thorns in his tender flesh. 

“It is my job to make sure the citizens of this county are safe.” 

I roll my eyes at him, walking to stand behind his chair. My hands reach to clutch his broad shoulders as I begin to knead the tense muscles with mild force. He stiffens for a moment and then emits a soft groan, flexing and trying to relax beneath my touch.

“Do you bring red roses to all the citizens in our county?” I speak with a sultry voice, moving my hands to his collarbone. Walter closes his eyes and throws his head back, a deep groan vibrates from the pit of his throat. 

“Only the hot ones,” he answers as his hand finds my leg and snakes up my bare skin, running all the way up beneath my skirt to find the curve of my ass. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s freezing in here.” I answer, leaning into the warmth of his palm as he strokes up and down my thigh to keep me warm.  

“Why are you dressed like that, then?” he guides me toward him to sit in his lap. His hands run up and down my legs, exposing more of my skin while a soft smile spreads across his rugged face. “If I wouldn’t know better, I’d say you came here to seduce a police detective.”

I bite my lower lip, wrapping my hands around his neck while my ass sinks against his groin. I feel so safe in his touch, with his coarse hands that burn hot on my flesh. 

“Why? Is that a crime?”

“Actually, yes.”

I pull away from him, standing against the edge of the desk with a teasing smirk across my face. His hand reaches out to my knees, not wanting to break contact. He has been deprived of it all day long, abandoned in the cold. 

Now here I am, the only warmth he knows.

“Show me then.”

He licks his lips, still smiling as he is caught up with my little flirtatious act. “Show you what, pet?”

“What interrogation methods would you use? How would you squeeze a dirty little secret out a seductress like me?” I place the heel of my boot between his straddled thighs, preventing him from moving and asserting my dominance to provoke him.  

His eyes narrow at me while he considers the idea. I see how the ethical balance begins to tip, the ball falling from one scale to the other. His better judgment becomes lost in a thick cloud of lust. 

“You keep secrets from me?” he asks as he plays along.

“Maybe…” I stretch the word, giving him a wicked flirtatious smile. 

Somewhere deep inside this good man, there is a big black dog, hungry to rip this willing victim to shreds. 

He peers at my leg and then up into my eyes while his fingers reach to gently tickle beneath my knee. I hum in delight, throwing my head back, my leg losing its strength, my assertiveness leaning on the edge along with my ankle. 

“I’d begin by putting you in a position where you don’t have any power whatsoever,” he speaks in a voice that’s gruff and low, his fingers now pressing hard and I’m forced to straighten my leg and lower it to the floor.

The smile on his face becomes cold and his eyes darken as he moves to stand in front of me. His leans against me, his torso pressed against my chest, his chin against my forehead as he lowers his head.

“Down on your knees.” 

These words take my breath away, making my skin prickle with nervousness. I follow his orders with the obedience of a good wife. My knees lay pressed against the cold floor, I try not to tremble too much. I’m not sure if it’s just the temperature of the room, or the dark glare on Walter’s face.

His groin is at the level of my face, the outline of his cock showing through the fabric of his trousers as it begins to harden.

He reaches out his hands to cradle my face. Stroking my hair back, examining my face as if he is learning my features for the first time. The smile diminished from his face the moment I went down on my knees. Now he stares at me with the severity of his bad detective attitude.   

“You’re very pretty,” he compliments me, but it sounds more of a fact than anything sweet. His fingers caress my cheeks and then at the corners of my lips, forcing me to part my lips. “Pretty little mouth too, does it talk?”

“I ain’t telling you nothing, Detective” I play along, if I’ve known we’re actually doing THAT, I would have prepared a script. 

His hands run to stroke the hair away from my face, beginning in a tender affectionate touch, he collects every strand lovingly until my hair is bundled between his strong palms. I can feel the softness of his touch draining away. 

“Undo my belt.” He commands. 

“I don’t…”

“You don’t want me to ask again.”

My hands tremble with fear and excitement as my fingers fumble with the metal clasp of his belt. Walter’s eyes look at me carefully, completely devoted to this role. I wonder how much of his job is pretence and how much is actually him.

“What do you say if I’ll fuck your mouth until you cry?” 

He asks while reaching one hand to unzip his trousers, freeing his beautiful large cock and stroking it in front of me for display. I can’t help but lick my lips, like a hungry kitten presented with creamy delight. The little drop of pre-cum that trickles down his shaft is too inviting. 

“I’d say you still won’t hear a word from me,” I provoke. 

Walter gives a short smile, tugging my hair back painfully until I’m forced to part my lips open into a breathless gasp of pain.

 “Take me in your mouth.” 

Usually, when I please him, I’d begin with a soft teasing, licking my way up and down his hardness until I finally take him in and begin working him sensually.

I am not granted any of that courtesy right now.

Walter forces himself into the wet heat of my mouth with the delicacy of a grunt. A deep, throaty groan echoes in the room as he is surrounded by my hot saliva and is pressed against the softness of my tongue. 

I choke out a mewl as he completely fills my mouth, feeling the head of his cock nearing the back of my throat. My cheeks betray me, sucking by instinct to savour his girth. Every inch of my body knows Walter all too well, it succumbs to the man that owns it, physically and emotionally.  

I look up to him with helpless glossy eyes. Victory showers his face, golden and bleak at the same time. He lets his callous long fingers clasp around the hollow of my cheeks to force me to keep my mouth open wide just to please him.

I gasp for air as he pulls back slowly. Just a cruel act to make me think we’re done, but we are far from that.

“Loosen your mouth pet, I am going deeper.”  

He warns and shoves himself in again, this time deeper as promised, relishing on my muffled whimpers he puts one hand on the back of my head and begins to buck his hips. Fucking my mouth in the rhythm that fulfils his lust.

My heart pounds on my chest, my knees begin to hurt as I try to move with him. But I’m his good girl, breathing through my nose, letting my tongue lap around his lavished cock lovingly while he uses me as the wet hole he unloads into. 

His eyes are glistening, ecstasy drawing near. I look up to stare at him, admiring how glorious he is. My large man, so confident and dominating. His beautiful dark curls frame his square face, bringing out his high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. And damn, that voice, those low melodic hums of pleasure making my entire body shake.   

I choke onto his swollen cock. Tears stained dark grey thanks to my eyeliner and mascara, run down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry beautiful,” he speaks with cynical sweetness, his thumb wiping the tears away from one cheek as he carefully withdraws from my mouth, allowing me to breathe once again. “All you need to do is tell me what you’re hiding and this will end.”

I gasp for air, my chest slightly heaving while his fingers run under my eyes to clean the black mess that is smeared on my face. He remains silent, the wrinkles between his brows are deep and severe while he is still pulling his bad cop act. Yet the way his hands run over my face with care gives him away so easily.

“Is this the worst you can do? Some detective you are!”

I provoke him, laughing patronizingly with my voice still husky, the edge of my throat slightly sore from having to endure his size in its depth. Walter chuckles momentarily before grabbing my shoulders and pulling me up to sit on his desk. 

“Spread ‘em” he nearly barks, but it’s not really an order since his hands press my knees apart widely, exposing the dampness on my underwear. He smoothes both hands up my thighs roughly, his thumbs reaching out until reaching to my core. 

I let my head back, feeling how his thumb massages me, pressing against my covered clit and drawing circles against it.

“You like that, little slut?”

“Yes…” I throw my head back and moan, my hands holding hard at the edges of the desk while I spread myself to him as much as possible and grinding my hips to steal more friction.

“You want more?” he teases while his fingers slowly slip my underwear to one side, exposing me to the cold air in the room. I’m so drenched for him right now, held open, anticipating like sliced fruit. He reaches out for his cock and begins to stroke himself in front of me, a wicked grin adorning his face.

I’m very much aware he can finish himself just like this while leaving me here to beg out of thirst. Well, I can do that too. I lift my hand to touch myself, nearly losing balance but he shoves his thighs between my legs right away and holds my wrist away.

“Ah, ah” he forbids. “You’re not touching yourself, you’re still under investigation.”

“If you don’t finish me off…” I threaten him but my intimidation breaks into a pathetic cry as I feel the head of his cock rubbing against my clit. 

“You’ll what?” he asks, running the tip between my throbbing lips and up to my clit. Back and forth he tortures me, increasing the pace and then slowing down. His groans convince me he may be enjoying this more than actually fucking me, seeing me so helpless and weak, willing to cry and beg for him to just put himself inside me. “I’m still waiting to hear what you’re hiding.” 

I close my eyes, head thrown back in agony and pleasure at once, so close yet so far away as Walter pushes just an inch inside, and then pulls out and strokes me again. 

I am still not willing to break completely, what’s the fun in that? I know my man, and I’m aware of his darkest desires and capabilities.

Let him unleash his worst. 

“Not a word from me, Detective, you’ll just have to try harder.”

His nostrils flares. 

“Fine, then I’ll just have to punish fuck you, drill you like a whore.” He pushes all the way in, making me whimper with bliss as I am finally whole again. 

I’ve led him just to where I wanted. His body conquering mine, filling me with the pleasure that’s not just physical.

Somehow both his hands find their way to my neck, holding me constrained while he allows my body to stretch for him. He makes me stare directly into his eyes, holding my face close to him, his hot mouth hovers onto mine, our breath mingling.  

I wrap myself completely around him, my boots pressing onto his ass to keep him buried deep inside. My hands hang onto his shoulders as if hanging to lift itself. 

He begins to finally move, grunting against my ear, his beard tickling at my neck while he thrusts me fast and hard. I grind onto him, our bodies making the erotic sounds of wet bodies as they slam together. 

This isn’t romantic lovemaking, he’s not tender and caring. His force is controlling, consumed by his demons once again. He fucks into me as if he wants to rip me apart, his hands depriving me of air, tight, perhaps too tight. Yet it’s still love, he would have not been able to have this with any other person and I would have not given it to him if I have not loved him as much.

The desk moves as he pounds me, he stretches his arms somewhat to lean me back, so he can look at me as I squirm beneath him, choked, fucked, and beautiful in his arms. We have both long forgotten our stupid game. We were too lost in the act of seeking out pleasure in one another’s bodies. 

I look back at the man I love, feeling the tremor that dances between my legs. My entire body quivers. My muscles embrace him deep inside as I come hard around his cock, snapping my eyes open, gasping at his sight.

He has his fingers engulfed roughly around my throat, leaving blue bruises. If he’d want me to stop breathing at this moment, he could so easily just push slightly tighter. I’d die happy in his arms, but I know he’d kill himself before ever really hurt me. His hands finally snap from my throat and reach instead to hold my face, crashing his lips against mine into a deep hungry kiss before breaking away and letting out one final gasp as true bliss sweeps him away. 

For more than a few moments, Walter is lost, buried deep inside me, surrounded by light.   

That’s when I break, entangling my fingers in his big soft curls, I inch my lips toward his ear to whisper, 

“I’m pregnant.”

Walter backs his face away to look at me, first with disbelief, his eyebrows rising, unable to even form a word. I’ve never seen so many emotions at once. Then a smile appears, so wide I think his cheeks may hurt. His beautiful teeth show and he lets out a chuckle of joy, sounding almost half-believing. 

“Really?” 

I melt as I see the twinkle in his eyes. The man who is always so grumpy and gruff looks now like the sweetest, most caring person in the world. 

“Yes, we're going to have a baby.” 

He kisses me lovingly, his arms wrapping around my back and holding me tightly. 

“Detective Walter do you ha… SHIT!” A young cadet barges in, finding me with my legs spread around Walter while he is still panting heavily with his curls sticky at his forehead.

It’s as bad as it looks.

The frown immediately returns to Walter’s face. Looking at the cadet as if he is ready to murder him at the spot.

“GET OUT!” he yells, throwing whatever’s within his reach to force the cadet out faster.

I can’t help but chuckle, wrapping my arms around my mountain of a man, there is so much of him to hug, it always makes me feel so protected. He leans his cheek against my forehead and then lets out a deep sigh. 

That’s when I know the darkness is returning, and now he has a brand new fear in him. 

#Henry Cavill #Detective Walter Marshall #walter marshall #Walter Marshall Fic #Night Hunter #Nomis #HenryCavill

[atsukashii]

❝chance encounter❞ // k. takami

SYNOPSIS: ➛ bickering with Japans number 2 hero about ice cream flavours in a supermarket wasn’t how you expected to spend your Friday night

» CHARACTER PAIRING: keigo takami/hawks x reader

» WORD COUNT: 2.9K

» GENRE: normal?

» WARNINGS: swearing & fluff and just crack really

« masterlist || ao3 »

You had been craving mint chocolate ice cream literally all day. But then again, craving anything with exceedingly high levels of sugar and crap-loads of chocolate wasn’t anything new recently. In times like these, owning your own bakery was both the best decision you’ve ever made, and a huge mistake. Considering you had been up since three am baking away in the kitchen of your cafe and had snacked on basically one of every sweet thing that came out of the oven and anything you had in the display cabinet, if you kept this up you’d have to get a gym membership. But right now, you wanted mint chocolate ice cream. You look down at your stomach and for a moment, the thought of eating healthily crosses your mind. The thought is, however, instantly pushed out by the idea of you, on your couch, in your pj’s, with a pint of mint chocolate ice-cream, watching TV and de-stressing about the absolutely crappy day you had. That sounds way better. 

Walking straight down the candy aisle of the supermarket, you don't even bother glancing at your basket as you toss in chocolates, chips, soft drinks, and any unhealthy food you can physically get your hands on. Out of the corner of your eye, you see an old lady coming towards you with a trolley, who looks up from her list, and eyes your basket with disdain. 

Cut me some slack, you want to snap at her, I’m heartbroken and pissed off! 

You ignore the dirty look she gives you, and snatch a bottle of Coke off the shelf. You were very much aware that you currently looked like you had been digging through garbage all day. Your clothes - even though you wore an apron - no doubt have flour on them, your hair looks like a rat made its home on your head, and your eyes dry and itchy from crying. You knew you looked like a mess, you have just surpassed the threshold of actually caring about your appearance. Like your ex didn’t care about showing up at your shop with his new thing after dumping me only two weeks ago… 

The second your friend and co-owner of the cafe saw him in the store, they kicked him out, wielding the broom like a weapon. You had wished that they smacked him in the face with it, but fearing assault charges - they didn’t. He didn’t leave however, until after he had flaunted his new relationship in your face. You had thankfully moved on past the whole, ‘why’ stage of the breakup, and came to the conclusion it was purely because he was a trash human being.  However, to say that it didn’t hurt seeing him holding another girl’s hand and acting like he used to do with you, with someone else - well that would be a lie. It had been two weeks after all, and considering you had been together for two years - it felt as if those 24 months had meant nothing to him. 

So now, you wanted to drown your pain in chocolates, and mint chocolate ice cream and no one was going to stand in your way.

You walk over to the freezer section of the store with confidence in your step, suddenly excited to get home and start bingeing the romance section on Netflix. That enthusiasm quickly dies as you reach for the handle of the freezer, your eyes locking onto the empty row where your favorite ice cream flavor always sat. You’re joking… You blinked at the glass as if trying to force the food into being before you. 

There. Is. None. Left.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now,” you groan. Of all days for there to be a shortage, it had to be today. You look down at your basket of Oreos, pocky’s, soft drink, chips, and everything else you had craved the second you saw it on the shelves. I’d trade it all for ice cream though… Resting your head on the cold glass of the freezer, you let out a groan of frustration. This was just the topping to an already crappy day. It was ironic when people say not to cry over spilled milk - and here you were wanting to cry over ice cream.

“Tough day?” A voice startles you away from the fridge. Following the sound, your head snaps to your left where your eyes immediately meet a golden pair that have your lungs spluttering and frantically, trying to figure out how the heck to breathe. Okay, he’s attractive. Like really attractive. His golden eyes are practically glowing at you with amusement, his hair looking like liquid gold - and super soft. You kinda want to touch it. In washed-out black jeans, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket stopping the cold from the open freezers, he looks too attractive to be real. But then your eyes lock onto the red wings, peeking from behind his shoulders and you know who he is in an instant. The question though, was why the heck the number two pro hero Hawks was even currently talking to you right now. Realizing you hadn’t answered him yet, and instead, were just checking him out instead for god knows how long, you clear your throat and reply.

“Tough week.” You correct, pulling yourself together before looking down at your basket again, hoping it doesn’t look as pathetic as the rest of you. “And to top it off, there’s none of my favourite ice cream left.” Letting out a groan, you shift on your feet. You don’t know why you just said that maybe you didn’t want the attractive blonde hero to go just yet. 

With an over-dramatic wince, Hawks leans his shoulder against the glass, as chilled out as the food inside the freezer. “Ouch, I know that feeling. That’s true betrayal,” he says, his eyes playful. It brings a small smile to your lips, and he takes that as an opportunity to stick out his hand to you. “Keigo Takami,” Hawks introduces himself as if you didn’t know who he was. Maybe he doesn’t think you would know… With a friendly smile and butterflies flying frantically inside your stomach, you shake his hand.

“Y/n Y/l/n. It’s nice to meet you,” you reply, trying not to think about how big his hand is compared to your own. God, was there flour on your hands right now? You prayed you had managed to wash it all off fully and that you didn’t suddenly look as run-down as you thought you did. Quickly -but not too fast to make him think you didn’t want to touch him- you drop the handshake and wipe your hands as inconspicuously as you can, on your jeans. 

“Beautiful name,” he glances at the empty ice-cream shelf. “But a girl with questionable choices in ice cream flavours.” You gape at Keigo in utter shock. Oh, he did not just say that.

“You did not just say that.” You repeat out loud. 

“I’m afraid so.” He answers, one hand in his pocket the other holding his basket, and a care-free smile covering his lips. “Who likes mint choc anyways?” For a moment you sputter for a response at this blatant ridicule against the best ice-cream flavour to ever exist. You will happily fight anyone on that, including the number two pro hero in Japan.

“Intelligent people, that’s who.” You argue back. “I bet you’re the kind of person whose favourite is vanilla.” His golden eyebrows shoot up at your words. 

“What’s wrong with good old fashioned vanilla Y/n?” Your name slips off his tongue like pure honey and it would normally send shivers down your spine. No, you will not look past this obvious disrespect against your ice cream preferences, not even for hot guys. No, you will not.

“It’s the most boring flavour to ever exist.”

“And mint choc isn’t?” He asks like it's a loaded question. Shaking your head at both his uneducated taste buds and this whole conversation, it begins to dawn on you that you’re smiling. When was the last time you smiled a lot recently? You question yourself, trying to wind back through your hazy memories of the past two weeks - and coming up with nothing.

“Mint chocolate is the best. You should tell your taste buds that what the ice-cream they think they enjoy is crappy ice-cream.” and Hawks is grinning at you, it’s a smile that is contagious, and has your own growing bigger with every passing word. 

“I’ll be sure to let them know.” God this whole conversation was one of the weirdest you had ever had in your life. And the fact that you had it with a pro hero, and Hawks for that matter...that just made it thirty times more strange. Looking back to the freezer, you decide you still want ice cream and settle for strawberry and cream, which earns a look from hawks as you put it in your basket. 

“Shut up,” you defend, fake glaring at the blonde. Holding his hands up feigning innocence, Keigo shrugs at you.

“I didn’t say anything sweet-cheeks.” Your cheeks in question flush hotly at the term, and you quickly fiddle with the handle of your basket, giving you something to do so you don’t stand there looking like a complete idiot at his blatant flirting. 

“But if you’re going to question my taste buds, then yours must be just as bad. Because last time I checked, Wagon Wheels were still way better than Oreo's.” His eyes meet yours, delight swirling inside his liquid golden irises and you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out your lips, shaking your head slightly.

“Okay, you’re definitely crazy.”

“Only a little bit,” Keigo smirks before his smile falls at the contents of your basket. You square your shoulders, knowing that there’s a chance that he might give you shit for its contents like that old lady from before. But the words that do come from his mouth surprise you.

“Was that the last KitKat?” Immediately, you look at the red packaging of the chocolate block inside your basket, and then back to the pro hero who is now gazing at it like it's made of diamonds. Hawks look’s like you imagine you had when you’d grabbed it off the shelf, seeing that it was the last one and deciding that it had to be some sort of sign that things were looking up for you. That was, of course, before you had seen the travesty of the empty mint chocolate shelf of the supermarket freezer. 

“I’ll trade you.” Keigo suddenly says, making you eye the man. “I’ll trade you the KitKat for this,” he finishes, reaching into his basket and… pulls out a fucking tub of choc mint ice cream. Are you kidding me??

“You’re joking.” Staring at him, at the sheepish smile across his face, you shake your head.

“Afraid not.” He tilts his head at you. “That is unless you don’t want it…” going to lower the tub back into his basket, a noise comes out of your throat that has him smirking again. Embarrassment flooding your features, you shift slightly and glare at the hero.

“I thought you didn’t like that flavour?” You point out, wanting to know what the hell was going on. 

“Oh no I do - it's one of my favourites. I just needed a reason to keep on talking to you,” Keigo admits unashamedly as you feel your cheeks warm again. If I was ever questioning if he was hitting on me…

“Oh,” is all you can manage to get out before your brain begins to catch up with the world again. “Well, in that case, I’ll trade.” Agreeing, you pass him the chocolate block and he gives you the tub of ice cream, your hand brushes him and you try not to act like a crazy person about how attracted to him you are.

“Thank you,” you try to say but it comes out as a slight whisper. His mouth morphs into a cocky smile, which just makes you flush even more.

“No, thank you y/n” he says, shaking the Kit-kat for emphasis in his hand. “They’re the best chocolate to ever exist.”

“Finally we agree on something,” You laugh, finally turning you back on the freezer and begin to walk backward, away from the hero. When he notices you moving from him, with every step away from that you make, he takes one forward, following you through the store.

“No, we agreed on the ice-cream too,” he beams.

“That’s right because really, you were just being an ass and hiding that fact from me.” You sass back, spinning around so you can see where you’re going.

“In order to keep talking to you, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make.” He says, hurrying forward until you are walking side by side down a different aisle, moving slowly towards the checkout. Your footsteps are both slow and leisurely as if neither of you wants to reach the check out just yet. “But it worked, didn’t it? So I’d say it was worth your glare.” You turn that ‘glare’ back on him and raise an eyebrow at his antics. 

“You could have said something else you know.”

“Such as?” He asks, genuinely curious. You weren’t an intimidating person, so you weren’t sure as to why a guy such as Hawks would be wary of approaching you. Especially when the reality is that those roles are definitely reversed. Was your resting bitch face that bad?

“You could have said, ‘Hey, I think you’re cute. Can I have your number?” Rolling his eyes at your words, disbelievingly. 

“You’re telling me that line would work on someone like you?” Unsure if that was a compliment or not, you stop in the middle of the aisle causing him to stop next to you. You look into his eyes, trying to judge where his mind is but he’s hard to read. The only thing you knew, was that his smile seemed genuine and very amused by you. That was good enough for you.

“Try me.” You test, confidence coming up from who knows where. With raised eyebrows and calling your bluff, Hawks smirks at you. 

“Hey y/n, I know we just met but I think you’re really cute. Can I have your number?” He teases.

“Sure.” Keigo blinks at you for a moment, then two - as if he can’t believe the words that came out of your mouth. First, it comes out slowly, then all at once, the corners of his mouth pull up into a dazzling smile, and a deep laugh rumbles from his chest. It’s the smile though, and the happiness that seeps from him that has your head feeling dizzy. A small smile cracks across your face as you begin to rattle off your number. Keigo scrambles for his phone and quickly types it in, not missing a beat for a second. One he slips it back into his back pocket, you move your basket to your other arm and walk away from the hero. Only looking over your shoulder when you’re a few feet away. 

“It was nice to meet you Hawks.” Keigo runs a hand through his blonde hair, a delighted chuckle slipping past his lips that has you grinning. He had so underestimated you.  

“You’re going to keep me on my toes aren’t you?”

“Oh, you bet bird boy.” You say, turning away from him and walking to the checkout. Today might not be that bad after all, you think as the older lady scans your items and bags them. It’s only then that you realize again that the whole time you had been talking to Keigo, your crappy day had been forgotten and you had actually laughed. The entire thing, he did because he noticed you frazzled and looking down. Your respect for the hero grew, and it took everything in you to not turn around to where you knew he was now standing a few people behind you in the line. Instead, you left the store, the smile not moving from your face. You don’t even make it a few feet from the glass automatic doors of the supermarket before your phone pings, vibrating in your jacket pocket.  Reaching inside you look at the new text, immediately knowing who it’s from. 

From Unknown: Want to go get dinner with me sometime this week? - the KitKat fiend. 

You giggle at the way he ends it, and quickly tap out a response. 

As long as it’s not seafood I’m there. You reply, before you turn around, looking through the glass windows and finding his golden hair quickly. In the midst of a conversation with the store clerk, he suddenly reaches for his pocket and grabs his phone with furrowed brows. Suddenly, a beautiful, bright smile that even has the shop lady hesitating with her scanning just to witness it, stretches across his face. Keigo quickly fiddles with his phone before putting it away and turning his attention to the blushing woman behind the counter. Looks like he has that effect on everyone.  Your phone vibrates in your hand.

To bird-boy: It's a date. 

Who would have thought a small chance encounter with the number two hero where you bicker over ice cream would change your life in such a monumental way.

©️ 2021 all rights reserved to atsukashii, do not change, edit, translate, or repost any works on any platform.

#hawks fluff #keigo takami #takami keigo #bnha takami keigo #mha hawks #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami fluff #takami keigho fluff #lolsplaysbingo