#SEE YA IN LIKE. 5-6 BUSINESS YEARS.
Text
to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader (part ii) 」
content warnings ; fem!reader, implied fem bodied!reader, use of she/her pronouns, reader wears dresses and makeup, mild violence mention
contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, angst, angst with some comfort, some fluff if you squint
word count ; 4.3k
notes ; at long last, here's the much waited part two! truly didn't expect the first part to blow up like it did, but i'm ever so grateful for all the support and the patience for those still here!
parts ; one two three (tba)
“Lyla, show me the nearest florist from here.”
“The nearest flower shop? That’s gonna be Business is Blooming on 27th Street—”
“27th Street?!” Miguel exclaims, his shock at the distance startling him and making his hands accidentally tighten the belt he was fixing much too tightly. He lets out a strangled choking sound and quickly loosens it before his legs lose oxygen, a feat that he’d hate to do just minutes prior to an event that could possibly change his life for the better. “That’s at least fifteen minutes away and on the opposite side of Clark! I’m already late, aren’t there any other ones closer?”
Lyla’s smaller holographic form pieces together on top of his full-body mirror that displays him in a formal-casual attire consisting of a cream turtleneck, black dress pants buckled with a coffee brown belt and topped altogether with a sepia overcoat that hadn’t seen the light of day since he bought it all those years ago. She puckers her grinning lips, a little amused at the rarity of Miguel in such an outfit and thinking he looks like a cup of coffee.
“Well, there’s always that crowded grocery store on Main?” she suggests as she examines her fingernails, instantly changing the pattern of them with a snap of her fingers. “But that’s gonna cost ya another twenty minutes and you’re already what—? Ten minutes late?”
Miguel fights off a groan at her teasing. “Lyla, I’m serious. Are there genuinely not any other ones around here? Any local ones? C’mon, this is Nueva York, there has to be at least one.”
“You could always try the marketplace. But then again, it’s Sunday so might not really be wise to take your chances,” Lyla shrugs.
Miguel even wonders if men these days still even have the dignity to give their partners flowers after realizing there is a significant lack of florists in today’s day and age. He wouldn’t be like them; flowers are a timeless gift everyone enjoys and he thinks if he can’t get it for you, he might as well not call himself a man at all.
His eyes go to spot the window in the reflection of the mirror where the sun is beginning to finally set and the city’s nightlife is rising from the dead. Buildings of all heights buster from every corner and the open road that eradicates much of the land dissolves a weary pit in his stomach, obviously annoyed at the many obstacles that block his path. Miguel takes another glance at the clock, the minute hand inching closer and closer and closer to 6:00. The initial plans were to leave the apartment by 5:30, acquire some gifts for you and then travel to the restaurant by 6:00, but seeing as how he’s still trapped in his abode, Miguel thinks that he can only do so much.
But he realizes that’s for Miguel O’Hara, renowned Alchemax geneticist and full-time father. Miguel O’Hara, an everyday citizen, couldn’t possibly crunch so much in such little time.
For Spider-Man, however…
Lyla eyes him suspiciously and purses her lips when Miguel looks at his wrists and then at the window again. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miguel.”
“What’s wise?” he replies coyly, going to quickly shovel off his clothes to replace them with a familiar blue and red attire.
“I know whatcha gonna do,” Lyla says and glitches around him as he searches for his suit. “But it’s not gonna end well, I’m tellin’ ya right now, mister!”
Miguel shakes her caution off, too occupied with shuffling on his superhero suit onto his body before neatly tucking his other outfit into his hammerspaced pocket. “It’ll be quick, I swear. I just need to get her some flowers and then I’ll be on my way. Lock up the house for me, yeah?”
“You’re not gonna make it,” Lyla shakes her head. “Just ditch the flowers and get her something on the way instead.”
But the last of Lyla’s words don’t make it to Miguel’s ears, as he’s already slinging and gliding himself out of the window and toward the given address of the florist. Lyla can only watch in artificial disdain as Miguel’s figure grows smaller and smaller through the passing seconds. She sighs, rolling her eyes as she flickers off the apartment lights before disintegrating.
The roar of the city life grows louder and louder the more Miguel comes closer to the center of it where the flower shop lays. People gather in clusters bustling about all over, making him a little weary of himself as he stares at them from above a high tower. He’s not exactly an ordinary passerby that can easily maneuver their way through so easily—especially not with this getup. Spider-Man is also a name that rather became widespread across the city of Nueva York, meaning that even if one person were to see the flash of blue and red, he’s up for trouble.
The evildoers tonight seem to be at cease, thankfully. He hasn’t heard of any malicious plotting or future events that will take place today by any of the supervillains that hunt him down like deer recently. Then again, there’s always smaller crimes still waiting to be stopped, but he’s sure the cops will come around for those. Miguel convinces himself it’ll just be a one time thing.
Yet when the familiar song of police sirens blare through the city, he twitches at the thought of leaving such miscreants in the hands of police when he’s sure he can take them down like an army of ten men.
But the police have ten men on them, so truly he can just leave it alone, right? He’s essentially in front of the flower shop that’s seated below an apartment building. All he has to do is just jump down, get the flowers, and leave in the nick of time. He doesn’t have time to dilly dally with low-rated criminals.
Then again, when he spots the gang of robbers in two white vans speeding down the road at a blistering speed without any caution for pedestrians, Miguel grits his teeth. On their tail is a rally of five police cars that keep gaining and losing them by the second and Miguel isn’t sure whether the irritation was from his indecisiveness or the fact that if he didn’t do anything, there will be consequences.
Perhaps do both to ease his mind? No, he can’t do that. You’re most likely on your way to the restaurant, all dolled up and fresh-faced. He still would need the time to fix himself up in some dingy public bathroom. A cop car that’s been hiding in the corner joins the chase—that’s surely more than enough to take care of them?
Miguel’s eyes go back and forth... back and forth between the two sights. Anxiety is doing little to help his situation and a mist of sweat begins to form on his skin the more the seconds tick by, making the innermost part of his suit much more uncomfortable and moist. A clock hangs by an awning nearby that displays the haunting time of 6:03 PM, just twenty-seven minutes shy of the designated 6:30 meeting time.
He glances one more time at the chase, swallowing a thick lump in his throat when he sees the vans hurdle full speed toward an open street of walking pedestrians, all ignorant of the fact to what beholds them in just mere seconds.
Miguel curses under his breath.
It’ll only be this for today, no more after that.
Fatigued eyes go to watch as the last people leave the restaurant, leaving you isolated in your little corner both embarrassed and hungry due to the heavy lack of food served on your platter for tonight. The other waiters begin to scrub the tables and booths free of crumbs and topple the chairs onto them, indicating that tonight has drawn to its close. You think you’ve memorized the entirety of the menu at this point, considering it’s really all you’ve been averting your eyes towards to avoid the looks of others.
Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the waiters and waitresses pitifully gossiping about you and a heat flashes onto your face by how incredibly desolate you’ve looked in the past three hours. Internally, you thank them for their patience and how they’ve tolerated your excuses for your date’s tardiness-turned-absence, knowing that it must be a pain to look after someone that hadn’t even ordered anything besides water for the time she had been here.
You don’t even wait for your waitress to come to your table for the nth time tonight, going by your own initiative to pack up your things. Your phone is still devoid of any notifications from Miguel, as well, even after the four calls, occasional text checkups, and last minute voicemailed question of a needed rescheduling if he so desired.
What remains is just a grayed out Read, 7:47 PM underneath all the text bubbles.
“I… sincerely apologize if I loitered at all,” you murmur with your head half-down to the young host who shuffles the menus back into the lectern. “This was truly the last thing that I had expected from him…”
You instantly take back that statement the moment it leaves your lips. If anything, you should’ve known that this would’ve happened. Foolish you were—you’ve been with Miguel for the past three years, this was everyday behavior for him. You suppose this is how Gabriella must feel constantly and another heartache pits itself within you at the shared feeling.
The host shakes his head sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be our first case, I’m sure you didn’t have any ill intent. If anything, I’m the one sorry that he made you wait that long,” he replies with evident pity. “Whoever he is, he must be a dick for leaving such a pretty thing like you alone all night, ma’am.”
“Oh, he’s—” you fall short on your words, not even having the energy to sorely defend Miguel’s name. “Never mind…” you mutter.
“Do you need a cab?” asks the host, “Well actually, I’m about to clock out for tonight. I can drive you home, if you want. It’s the least I can do for you after tonight.”
You’re about to reply to him to turn down the offer, as you suspect he’s the type of guy to use women in these situations to his advantage, but the doors suddenly burst open to reveal the one and only in a hazy state and what seems to… flowers clutched in his hands? The petals, however, are corrugated and some have even completely drooped down from their stem. The paper that is supposed to guard them is wrinkled and torn at the corners. Almost all of the bouquet is wilted, much like your own composure for tonight.
Miguel isn’t much better. Hair and clothes a little damp, he’s frazzled and evidently guilty, as his face pales when he sees your contrasting appearance. You’re adorned in an a-lined, half-sleeved royal blue dress that made you look so regal in comparison to your daily white blouse-black pants outfit that he's seen too much of. Not to mention additional details of your styled hair and accessories just brought out the best of your beauty that was wasted on essentially nothing this evening.
“Mr. O’Hara…” you breathe when he passes through the door. The first thing that you notice automatically when his face properly comes into view is a sharply jagged, yet thin cut on the side of his cheek. “Did someth—”
“(Y/N), I’m so… so sorry,” he chokes out. “Something c-came up at work and they asked me to help them out… I’m sorry, I know I should’ve said no, but they were kind of on my ass about it and I got so caught up with it, so I wasn’t able to text you and—”
“She waited three hours,” the host drones and juts his thumb toward the dining area where all the chairs are laid atop the tables. Its lights flicker out, leaving only the foyer and smaller hallways lit so dismally in the night. “Until closing. She didn’t order anything in the meantime, so not only you left her alone tonight, you left her alone and hungry.”
“Hey listen, bud,” Miguel snaps at the host. He points a finger at him with irate in his eyes. “Not your business, so stay out of it.”
The host scoffs with a smirk on his face. “Not the first time I’ve heard that and certainly not the first time I’ve seen this happen. Guys like you always—”
You raise a hand to stop their bickering, afraid of what might happen if things escalate further as you really didn’t desire to do anything more than just sleep off your feelings. Both men stop and turn to look at you with concern on their faces.
“Do you still need that ride home?”
“Are you still hungry?”
A frustrated head shake finally silences the both of them.
“I’m fine, thank you for the offer, though,” you say quietly to the host. You turn to Miguel, who swallows at the sight of your tired eyes. “May we talk outside? I’d hate to stay here any longer than I need to.”
Miguel attempts to excuse himself one more time, but when you begin to pace yourself toward the door without waiting for him, he realizes he can’t exactly make any more decisions of his own any more this evening. Not after choosing his heroic duties again and again for tonight instead of tending to you.
The moon and stars tonight have made their presence with the special guest of light rain coming in for a visit. The whisper of a drizzle ghosts itself on your goosebumps skin and the chill of a wind nips at your flesh.
Miguel is quick to follow you. “I’m really sorry again, (Y/N),” he utters so softly that it makes your heart ache with familiarity. It’s the same tone of voice he’s used with Gabriella when at times, he wasn’t able to make it to her events or practices like he promised. “Are you still hungry by any chance? I know a good 24/7 diner that’s pretty close here.”
Without turning around, you politely shake your head and begin to search for any cabs coming your way. “I’ll be okay. I think I have some leftovers in the fridge that can suffice.”
The thought of you eating alone like he did on a night that you shouldn’t be sends shivers of guilt down Miguel’s spine. He curses himself at his past actions—deciding that it was stupid to catch those robbers who didn’t even put up much of a fight, to stop that gang brawl that was happening on the corner of 5th that was resolved the moment the elderly shopkeeper began to yell, to help that old lady that was certainly taking her sweet time to cross the street. They were such unbelievably mild crimes that he didn’t need to attend to, but did anyway even with the thought of you in mind.
Perhaps he should’ve had more faith in technology, because he’s sure Lyla was going to have much fun taunting him for the rest of the week.
“You can keep the flowers, too,” you say softly when a cab begins to pull up. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think I have a vase to store them in unfortunately.”
Miguel’s grip on the dismal bouquet tightens, not even trying to fight your refusal as you get into a cab. He stops the door from closing just as you’re about to, trying one last time to make up for his actions.
“At least let me pay for your cab,” Miguel whispers.
You know he’s sorry. You can see in his eyes the familiar gleam of woe that he’s given to his daughter. Your eyes go to flicker at the cut again, but you know that if you ask, he’s sure to give one his many excuses because it isn’t the first time he’s shown up with an injury before. And you don’t want to put yourself through that wall of verbal familiarity.
With sorrow gentleness, you pry his fingers off the edge of the car and shut it, putting a physical barrier between you and Miguel. The eyes of the driver goes to pitifully glance at your state before beginning to rev up the engine.
You don’t even have the courage to share a glance towards Miguel one last time before the cab begins to drive off—your wallow of disappointment is deep enough as it is.
The rest of the week is agonizingly slow; Miguel dares to say it’s torturous, even.
He’s thankful you’re still acknowledging his existence and talking with him, but your conversations lack the usual warmth and gentle playfulness they often had. It was already lonely enough dealing with the lack of a third person like him at home, but the feeling of isolation felt even more scarring this time because when he came home late after your babysitting session, you didn’t bother with small talk with him, the only thing that made him realize he didn't have to do everything by himself alone.
You didn’t ask how the late shift was, how were the bosses treating him, if he was getting enough rest… no, you only kept him updated on his daughter's schoolwork and any future events regarding her and her only. Your words never included him or you, only finishing off with a goodbye and have a nice night.
At least you were still kind enough to fix him the usual leftovers.
Work itself wasn’t much better. Conversations were brief and the lab in which you two worked privately was filled with silence that was only broken with the occasional demands and directions of lab work. Sometimes a forced cough would sneak its way through Miguel’s lips if the silence began to disturb him too much. He attempted to make some at the beginning, asking how your day was and whether your father was on your tail again, but he was met with short, sharp responses.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Perhaps.”
“I’m not sure.”
Never have such words been so agonizing before. Ironic that they are because Miguel often hated it when people rambled and preferred it when conversations got to the point. He supposes, though, you get to the point too fast for his liking nowadays.
When he tried bringing up an explanation for Sunday’s events, you’d quickly shut it down as tenderly as possible, saying things along the lines of “It’s alright, your schedule is hectic. I can understand.” or “I just hope your work didn’t give you too much trouble.” You’re so polite about it that it hurts him. Miguel would much rather have you lash out and insult him than have you soften the landing that does barely anything to ease him because it feels like you’ve put on that mask you put in front of others—professional and orderly—and Miguel didn’t want to be seen as just a mere coworker, let alone your boss, to you.
His pride bites at his ankles. Lies coming out of his lips too regularly, he had to fib to Gabriella the morning after her sleepover when she asked about the date that you had fallen sick and weren’t able to make it. The disappointment on her face mimicked yours too eerily. She asked him if they were going to reschedule it. Miguel could only shrug his shoulders—he wasn’t even sure if you wanted anything to do with him after that event.
At least nothing changed with you and his daughter. He’d still home to an apartment with you helping with homework or her helping with dinner or tucking her into bed. That’s all he could ask for right now.
Miguel still had the chance to redeem himself this week. There was the annual banquet held at a banquet hall to celebrate the yearly achievements Alchemax and those associated had accomplished, as well as discussing major plans for the future. It was a boring, yet formal event used for connections and idle chatter, something Miguel usually didn’t look forward to. Lyla suggested to him to convince you to go and that Gabriella would just have a one-time babysitter while you got to enjoy (or in your case, put up) with his company as he redeemed himself best as possible. You’re not one to talk with others you’ve never met, so he knew that you would most likely stick by his side for a sense of familiarity.
It took a while, but you murmured you’d go under your breath to shake him off your tail. Miguel was elated, but it was quickly shut down halfheartedly by the reminder that you were still somewhat upset by Sunday’s incident, saying you’d take a cab to the banquet instead of driving with him like he offered.
No matter, as long as you were there by his side.
Miguel made sure that this time, he’d be out the door much earlier than the last, promising to never keep you waiting longer than a minute. A text on his phone pings that you’re near the back entrance, where the parking lot was so it’d be easier to find you. He swerves a little too harshly into the lot—either from nervousness or excitement or both—at the mention and had spotted you near the staircase adorned in a floor-length blushed, ivory pink halter gown with luminescent tulle, making you look like the human embodiment of an ocean pearl.
His eyes are so fixed on you that he didn’t realize he almost knocked himself straight into an oncoming BMW. The owner, a crabby old man he recognizes from human resources, swears and honks at him, making Miguel hide his face before hurriedly parking a little more safely.
When he approaches you, he drinks you in your full glory. Everything about you is so fresh… so exhilarating. You’ve done your hair with a couple of clips this time, with more subtle jewelry this time. Your makeup looks tidy and perfect and Miguel enjoys the way it emphasizes your best features instead of morphing them. If only he was wiser on Sunday, he would’ve been able to savor a different version of you in blue.
Nevertheless, you still manage to take his breath away with just a simple breath like you always have. It’s just that it was only recently had Miguel realized you had that ability and he’d be alright experiencing it again and again if it was with you.
“Mr. O’Hara?” you say and wave a soft wave in front of his face to break his trance. Somehow, you begin to grow self-conscious. Perhaps he didn’t like it? Maybe it was too revealing… the slit at the halter neckline did somewhat peek at your cleavage and you weren’t used to baring your shoulders out. “I-is everything okay?”
Miguel blinks a couple of times. His surroundings finally come into focus like your figure, making him realize how long he had been staring. “Apologies. I… never got to tell you this on Sunday, but I hope to do it now, (Y/N)... ” he clears his throat and straightens his posture, remembering to act everything out as practiced, before softly whispering with evident fondness that, “You look beautiful, tonight.”
A spark of surprise shocks your features for a brief moment, before your usual modesty is displayed again. Eye contact is broken, for you can’t fathom the thought of someone like Miguel O’Hara, favored in every possible way, would be complimenting you so casually. “Oh um. Thank you,” you choke out halfheartedly.
Miguel leans over slightly over your figure and tucks a lock of stray hair behind your ear. If he wanted to truly make up for what happened, he was going to have to go all out tonight, even if that meant rocketing out of his comfort zone. He just barely catches you hitching a breath at the semi-intimate of physical contact as he tries his best to hide his own when he murmurs in your ear again.
“I’m not saying it out of manners, I’m saying it factually,” he mumbles, eyeing the passersby that stare in wonder at you. Some ego swells inside of him at the jealous looks that are given to him. “You’ve bewitched me and many others already.”
You stray your gaze away at him with your hands fiddling at the skirt of your dress. “You didn’t have to, but thank you for the dress, by the way,” you murmur timidly. “I’ve never heard of a brand called Lyla, but I admit, this dress of theirs is rather nice.”
Miguel furrows his brows at the mention before Lyla briefly appears on your head, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up before disappearing. It doesn’t take Miguel long to realize that Lyla had shipped something so pristine to you without his permission, though he supposes that she had done him and you a favor given how majestic you look tonight.
He lets out a soft breath of a chuckle before shaking his head. Maybe he’ll give her some upgrades in return.
You turn your head behind you, not knowing what he was looking at. “Is something wrong? Is there something in my hair?”
“No, no. Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts…” Miguel interjects before offering his arm to you. “We should get going. I’d hate for a dress like this to go to waste for only my eyes.”
Internally, Miguel wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be greedy and have you all for himself, savor your every move tonight, have you and him be the only ones in this place. He didn’t want anyone to look towards your direction and have you look at anyone else besides him. A little venomous thought of people not realizing you had so much more potential than they realized embeds in himself, and that their awe for tonight was too artificial. He wanted more and to give you more, but then again, he’s still Spider-Man at the end of the day, the impossible man that somehow does it all and faces the consequences head on. He can only offer a regular day citizen like you so much.
But for now, he’ll make do with what he can. Not as Spider-Man this time, but as Miguel O’Hara.
a/n ; hi yeah don't panic, there'll be a part three lmfao i lied lolol. most likely it'll be the last part to this little series i've got going, too, since i think making it a fully fledged series would kind of lead some things astray for me. that doesn't mean the end of the miggy o'hare writings, however! still will most definitely attempt to write for him bc bro's GLORIOUS
thank you all for the patience for part ii, and i hope to see that part iii comes out asap! i'll give updates for it as always, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and likes/comments/reblogs are always noticed and infinitely appreciated ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ !
taglist ; @secretlyrexlapis @urbimom @p1nkliquor @julesclues @averagefloydlover @apurpletrashcan @toofsfairys @raeisthebae (for those with strikethroughs, i'm not able to tag you for some reason :(!)
#spider man: across the spider verse#across the spider verse#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara smut#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#atsv miguel#across the spider verse x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#fem!reader
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Unfortunate Timing Prologue
(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist
Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)
5.7k words
Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.
Pre Apocalypse
You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.
It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.
You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.
You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."
You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’
It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.
"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."
You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”
“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”
That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”
He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?
You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’
When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.
Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.
When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”
You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.
You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”
You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,
“Same time next week?”
He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’
That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.
This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.
“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”
The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.
He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.
He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”
Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,
“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”
That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.
You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.
Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.
You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.
Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”
He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”
Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.
After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.
You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.
Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”
You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.
Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.
That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.
Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.
He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."
You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."
Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.
You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.
Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.
That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.
He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'
"I'm pregnant."
His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.
You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."
It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.
You both had time.
You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?
Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.
You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.
Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”
Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”
Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.
Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.
All you knew was the world was changing.
Part 2
Feedback welcomed and requests open!
Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#daryl imagines#daryl x female reader#daryl fanfiction#twd daryl#norman reedus#angst#fluff#smut
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I actually have my own little head cannons about percy and annabeth's own family, and I'm gonna share them for no reason other than being annoying <3
Percy and Annabeth have lived in unstable homes throughout their childhood; I truly believe that they got married in their early twenties after college
Annabeth hyphenated her last name! She becomes "Annabeth Chase-Jackson" because she loves the Jacksons and is a part of their family while also keeping her last name because she's THE Annabeth chase and it's iconic
I think that they always wanted kids together, but it was always a thought for the future, even when they got married and were busy with their careers
So yes, their first kid was a total surprise, but a very happy one
They were the first of the hoo group to have a kid
Their first kid's a boy (ik unpopular opinion), with blonde hair and green eyes.
I always imagined they'd named their kids something both unique and greek, with maybe a middle name after a lost hero? Giving the first name of a lost hero sounds painful, and also defeats the whole purpose of Sally naming Percy after the only greek hero with a happy ending. An example I like is Amycus Charlie Jackson. idk tho, something more normal makes sense too.
Amycus would probably be a stereotypical angel first child tbh
Because they had their first kid so early on, I think their second would be a couple years later, I think around 4.
They'd have a girl next, Daphne Zoe Jackson, with Percy's raven hair and Annabeth's gray eyes. She'd be a little more troublesome lol, but in a loving way!
I honestly think 2 kids are good enough but my heart says they'd have 3. He'd be a surprise baby, and on the younger end of the hoo group's kids (if not the youngest). I haven't thought of much characterization for him yet, but he'd get Sally's blue eyes for sure.
And they live a great life in New York, I'm sorry but they aren't moving to New Rome! Especially Percy, he's a New Yorker through and through
Annabeth works from home from time to time as an architect, mostly to spend more time with her kids, especially when they're babies.
Percy has a pretty chill job doing something in marine biology or marine vet, so he's there for the kids plenty too
Sally babysits the few times both of them are busy
Ya that's their perfect domestic life in my head hehehe >:)
thanks for the ask @littlesillyfilly!
i love all of these!!! super cute! i shall go through each one
1. same! some people think they don’t get married, but i hate the reasons why most people think that. as demigods, percy and annabeth didn’t grow up in a stable family setting. i think they would want that stability, and to do normal stereotypical couple things, because they crave as much normalcy as they can get.
2. another vote for the hyphenated name! that seems to be people’s favorite option
3. yes absolutely. they always have wanted kids. it’s not even a question in my mind
4. i agree, for some reason i’ve always had the hc that their first kid is either a total shock, or it takes a really really long time for them get pregnant. it’s one or the other 😂
5. completed agreed. honestly? i dont even know if many of their friends would have kids. i mean, frank and hazel, together or not, probably would i think, albeit much later than percy and annabeth. but i don’t know if i see anyone else having kids. i think its not super common amongst demigods, especially greek ones
6. absolutely 1000% agreed. i have always thought and said that their first is a boy with curly blonde hair and sea green eyes.
7. agreed! i like them doing a mix of things when it comes to names. and this is so funny because i always have liked the name charlie (after beckendorf) for one of their kids! it’s in my percabeth baby names list LOL. so i think i like their second son being named charlie, and then i have a girl name for their daughter that i love.
8. oh absolutely. first babies seem to always be so precious and sweet and easy. that’s how they get you. then the second one comes and all hell breaks loose
9. i agree that their second kid would come a few years later. they would need a hot minute to adjust. having kids as a demigod would be hard i think, but once they get the hang of it, they want more!
10. i absolutely agree that their next kid has percy’s black hair and annabeth’s grey eyes! personally, i always imagined it being another boy though. he is their charlie in my mind.
11. yeah, i think they would originally plan on 2 kids, but end up having three (if not 4🤭). and in my mind, number 3 is their girl! i’ve always imagined her with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes with a bit of green in them.
12. you are team percabeth living in new york? ok ok i like it. idk personally i feel like they would start out in new rome, for safety reasons. also having a community of demigod friends and family would probably be very comforting for them. but i definitely see them ending up in new york again! percy is absolutely a new yorker through and through!
13. aww annabeth being able to work sometimes at home would be cute. i can see that!
14. can i just say im so glad people are getting on board with percy becoming an aquatic/marine vet?? i’ve always been so alone in that thought, so seeing other people like it and agree with it makes me so happy!! he’d be sooo good at it! but yes, it’s a chill job so he can be around for the kids a lot.
15. sally and paul would love babysitting. 100%
i loved all of these so much and agree with nearly everything!! thank you for these!!
#percabeth#percy jackson#annabeth chase#pjo#heroes of olympus#pjo headcanons#percy jackson and the olympians#answered
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It's my first time asking a prompt to ANYONE, and I'm horrible at english so if the prompt is bad you can ignore.
So Adam is visiting earth one day in human form(because Sera let him for once) and as Adams roaming around the city (He can do whatever you want on earth) he sees the reader and he's like "Holy shit... He's hot." So Adam flirts with the Reader and the Readers like "Wtf?" But he just goes along with it. But soon Adam has to go back up to heaven and he feels really sad, so he like kisses (ig?) the reader and the reader again goes "WTF??? but Okay? He's cute, I like him."
So like, a few years later, Adam is strolling around Heaven when he sees reader again, and he's in complete disbelief that the hot guy from earth is in heaven. So Adam goes up to him, and is so excited because he's never felt like that meeting somebody, except for Eve and Lillith, Adam than helps the reader around heaven and stuff like that, and than maybe like a time skip where one of them proposes to the other? Idk.
It's shitty, I know. But I absoulutly love your writing :)
Shush bitch it's not shitty and it was so fun to write!! So here ya gooo xoxo/p
Love at first sight, I still believe
pairing: Adam x male!reader
warnings: language
note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers
This was supposed to be a quick thing, down to earth, get the shit heaven didn’t offer, leave.
Adam wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of walking around on earth, it felt dirty, impure. Sinners and Winners both roamed on earth and safety was never guaranteed and yet he came down there once a year when his creation day neared to get some of the food he liked so much that heaven refused to hold in store for him - like seriously, he was allowed to eat rips but some alcohol and chicken burgers were too much to ask for? Apparently.
He was just walking through the streets to get to the store he always visited as you came into his view. You were wearing some comfortable clothes, your hair all messy from a busy, stressful day at work and all you craved was your favorite drink. The angel in human disguise was interested immediately and therefore quick to catch up to you. “What’s a fucking pretty boy like you doin’ here,” the cocky smirk on Adams lips was huge and his confidence was on a level too high to even comprehend. You simply looked up at the tall man you’ve never seen before and raised an eyebrow at him. Adam was leaning against one of the shelves, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin tilted upwards which made himself seem even bigger than he already was. His human disguise came with a normal height, yet he was still taller than most of the other earthlings, looking over their heads with a height of 6 '5 feet. “Can I help ya, man?” was your casual response as you weren’t quite sure what exactly it was the stranger wanted. Adam craved his wings, he wanted to wrap them around you to pull you in but humans had no wings so as long as he was roaming on earth neither did he - it was a shame honestly. But his charm would work even without the golden feathers. “Oh fuck yeah you can, babes.” When the pet name left his lips you straightened your back and shot him a questionable look. “See, I’ve been looking for a pretty boy like you and your fucking ass seems to perfectly fit my type.” And he meant it because even though you were human just like all the others and for what Adam knew you could be the most horrible one of them all, you had a vibe. A vibe that told him you weren’t like the sinners, you weren’t like the other angels either. It was something about you that pulled him in, enchanted him even. And while your looks definitely played into it, it wasn’t fully because of them. There was something else, something he had no idea how to explain nor did he have a name for it. And if someone were to ask how to describe you in one word, Adam would have responded with ‘divine’.
You rolled your eyes at the attempts of the handsome stranger to flirt with you - the confidence he seemed to have was impressive, you gave him that, but over all? Way too much. He should try and play it smoother, less like he just wants to get in your pants and more honest - unless getting in your pants was his goal, then he met the wrong person by hitting on you though. Not that he would have known. “What’s next? You wanna ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven?” At that the taller brunette snorted and shook his head, “Oh fuck no babes, I come from up there and I ain’t ever seen a dude quite as sexy as you there. And I’ve been there ever since the start of humanity.” That made you furrow your eyebrows at him, “What, you wanna tell me you’re Adam?” And for a second Adam thought he had slipped up, that he had just revealed who he really was and that Sera would come for his ass once he’s back in heaven. But then he led the conversation in a different direction by shrugging his shoulders and responding casually, “Well, that’s what my fam calls me, you however can simply call me Dickmaster, shawty.” You simply rolled your eyes at that, dickmaster? Was this dude serious? Apparently he was. Because his eyes were full of confidence and his body language looked quite proud.
You wanted to put that confidence of his to a test though, so you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to your height, a cocky yet lazy grin met his surprised expression as you spoke, “That so? Is that what your girlies call ya?” Adam, who had not expected you to react that way, was absolutely overwhelmed, yet he craved you even more for pulling a stunt like that. Confidence made you look even sexier. But no answer left his lips, the first man was a little too stunned to speak so all he did was staring at you. “What happened to the confidence of yours, dickmaster?” The people around you were staring at you, curious eyes were watching closely as you two did, what you did. But you really couldn’t care, not when the man flirting with you was quite handsome, probably the most beautiful dude you’d find in this shitty town. The brunette in front of you continued to just watch you, his brain was not able to answer you at all, not when he was able to feel your breath on his face. “Think I can reboot ya brain with a kiss?” you cockily asked, because while kissing him seemed tempting, consent was important. When Adam gave you a small nod - that was literally all his body was capable of - you were quick to connect your lips to his. And despite how much shit this dude had been talking, his lips were surprisingly soft and he wasn’t a bad kisser either - the exact opposite was the case if you were being honest. But his ego was huge already, there was no need to tell him.
-
The years had passed but the memory of him meeting you on earth for the first time felt still fresh, like it had just happened a couple hours ago. Adam was walking the streets to his favorite guitar store to buy a new set of strings when he spotted a familiar face. A face he should have already forgotten about but yet couldn't get out of his head at all. Your face.
What in God’s mighty name were you doing in heaven? Had you been as pure as Adam had thought you were? Were you as divine as you had looked?
Your eyes met his and you frowned at him, Adam had already completely forgotten about the fact that he was wearing his mask and even if you would still remember his human disguise, there was simply no way you would be able to recognize him with his exterminator mask on. Adam however walked over to you, confidence filled his body as always when he casually wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You flinched away from his touch immediately, removed his arm from your body and took a step back to create a certain distance between you and him. “You wanna tell me I’m that forgettable?” the first man asked and for a moment you were convinced there was a flash of hurt in those glowing yellow eyes that were on display for you to see. “I’m pretty sure I don’t fucking know you,” and while you the familiar sounding voice from somewhere, you weren’t sure if it was just your mind playing tricks on you or if you actually ever met somebody with that voice. It had only been a couple days since your soul had arrived in heaven after all. “Fucking excuse me?” the man next to you exclaimed, his hand moved to cover the center of his chest in a dramatic way which caused your frown to deepen. “You wanna tell me you forgot about the fucking Adam?” And suddenly everything fell into place and the memories came back to you. Adam, that’s who that voice of the stranger next to you belonged to. But the dude didn’t look the part, not even in the slightest. That’s when the first man seemed to remember his mask - he was quick to take the thing off and shoot you a lazy smile, “How about that, you fucking remember me now?” Your eyes locked with his and you saw the same cockiness reflecting in those golden orbs that the brown ones had held when you had met Adam for the first time. He looked different, not in a negative way at all. And suddenly everything fell into place in your head, he hadn’t been joking when he had told you he was the Adam because he literally seemed to be the Adam. The first man.
The brunette seemed to notice that you caught onto it, that you had just wrapped your beautiful mind around the fact that he was in fact the first human oh did the realization look good in your eyes - that caused his grin to widen, “Knew you couldn’t forget a man as handsome as me.” You were the one that was too stunned to speak this time because was the first man really flirting with you? Yet another winner, just one out of all the others? You were really nothing special - especially compared to him. But yet he seemed to be interested in you - fuck he had ben ever since had first seen you. “Why-” you wanted to ask him why he didn’t tell you, why he was interested in you, why you. But Adam’s finger which the first man pressed against your lips shushed you. “We got time babes. Let’s start at the fucking beginning.”
-
When someone would’ve told you a couple thousand years ago that one day you’d end up in heaven you would’ve called bullshit on that - not because you had been a bad person but rather because you didn’t fully believe it was possible to end up in heaven. And if that same person would’ve also told you that you’d be dating Adam in your afterlife? Fuck you weren’t sure how you would’ve reacted. But there you were, at a rock concert with your boyfriend Adam. In Heaven. And on top of it was your relationship with Adam, the most healthy relationship you’ve ever had in all of your existence.
The both of you had been dating for a good two thousand years, sure you had your ups and downs, but that was normal, that was the case with every relationship. But you and Adam had managed to solve the problems, well to be fair Lute had helped with some of the harder things, but you had made it. So when the singer started to shout the lyrics of the song you and Adam had claimed at yours and Adam dropped to his knee, you choked on your breath for a moment.
The brunette pulled out a small box that was covered in golden velvet, opened it with skilled fingers and extended the hand he was holding it in towards you. No words were spoken, not that you would’ve understood each other over the fucking loud music and screaming crowd anyways. But you were quick to join him on his knees, pulled him into a hug and buried your face in his neck.
Yes.
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As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 8
Summary: Finding a new life in a new town, you stumble upon a Honey farmer at the town market. You both have pasts that have shaped the way you now live your lives, but can you find a way of putting them behind you to find happiness?
Pairing: ‘Lucas’ Syverson x Female Reader
Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sandcastle (Movie).
Ongoing Genre: Fluff, Angst, and Smut
Story Warnings: Slight Angst, Talk of a car accident in the past, Anxious Sy, Mild Embarrassment, First Date Nerves, Kissing, NSFW, 18+, Smut, Fingering, Grinding, Hot Tub Frolics, Handjob, Titty Sucking, Nudity, Blowjob, Oral Sex.
Chapter 8 Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink.
Wordcount: 2767
Here is my masterlist and AO3
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7,
As Sweet As Honey - Chapter 8
Sy poured three mugs of coffee, setting one gently down in front of you as you glared at him, he did a piss poor job of hiding his smirk which infuriated you even more;
“SY!”
“I’m sorry honey, but as this is the first time i’ve seen you angry and i know i shouldn’t laugh, but that is the cutest angry face i’ve ever seen”
“It really is” Mike added from the far end of the kitchen table, his feet resting on the chair next to him as he pushed another slice of toast into his mouth.
“No. You; quiet”
Sy pulled your chair out, rested a hand on each armrest and leant forwards;
“I’m genuinely sorry about the surprise of finding a stranger in my kitchen, but you really do have the cutest face when you are angry”
Before you could get another word out he pressed his lips to yours, and your rage dissipated to the point you deepened the kiss, the world slipping away around you until you heard a quiet cough;
“I’m still here ya’ know guys”
You and Sy pulled your lips apart as he rested his forehead on yours;
“I just got a premonition of what it's going to be like in our household in twenty years time when our own smart ass kid can’t take a hint to get lost”
Mike laughed as Sy pulled away and sat next to you, tossing a grape into his mouth from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table;
“Uncle Sy, I just spent far too many hours on a bus to get here, walked cross country so Dad didn’t see me, had to break into your house as you seemingly forgot I was coming. I’m staying here, at least in this chair. If you two wanna go fuck i’m not stopping you”
Sy took a deep breath;
“Jesus Christ, you are just as infuriating as your Dad was growing up”
Mike grinned and you could see the likeness between him and Walter. The dark hair and sparkling eyes, but also the slightly lopsided grin. You could only imagine the hearts Walter broke when he was Mike’s age.
“So Mike…”
“Yeah Sweetcheeks?”
“Why are you in town but hiding from your Dad?”
Mike looked at Sy and back to you;
“He didn’t invite you?”
Sy turned beet red and suddenly got flustered;
“I been kinda busy Mikey, i completely forgot about it if i’m being honest, plus we had other more important stuff going on which is why she’s staying here” Sy looked to you; “It’s Walter’s 40th Birthday this week. Trying to get as many of the old family back together as a surprise”
You nodded;
“Ahh I see. Thus the covert operation of Mike staying with you”
"Precisely" Sy nodded; "So errr… whatcha doing Thursday evening?"
"Nothing as far as i know"
Sy smouldered; "Wanna come to Walter's surprise party?"
You smiled, genuinely feeling relieved for the first time in 24 hours;
"I'd love to" you leant forwards and pressed a kiss to Sy, only for Mike to cough.
"Still here"
Letting out a deep sigh, Sy turned;
"Get used to it kid. I'm crazy about this woman."
-
After a shower you settled some essentials into the drawer Sy had emptied for you for when you stayed the night again in the future, before packing the rest. As you climbed into Sy's truck he gave Mike instructions to chop a pile of logs ahead of taking a nap, climbing into the driver's seat he smiled at you;
"I can guarantee he'll only do one of the two instructions i just gave"
Laughing quietly you smiled at Sy;
"The nap?"
"Honestly? With Mikey you never know. Even though he has probably been awake 48 hours he is just like a freaking ball of pure energy so he'll probably end up chopping the entire wood pile"
"So, you're the mean Uncle? Putting him to work" You said with jest
Sy laughed;
"It'll be easy for him, he works part time at my brothers sawmill in Portland, he's told me that Mike will literally go out on his lunch break from his IT department and chop through a couple of tonnes of logs just for fun… and posing on tiktok"
You nodded and unlocked your phone, scrolling through instagram until you found the thirst trap reel of Sy doing exactly the same, peeling off his shirt halfway through;
"Oh, you mean like this?" Turning the screen to him and you watched the blush rise through his face to the top of his ears.
“That’s completely different. And is not a thirst trap, it was a hot day”
“There’s snow on the ground”
“I was getting hot”
You smiled;
“It made me hot too” you said quietly, your comment almost immediately followed by a rumble of tyres of gravel where Sy wasn’t paying attention to the road and had pulled onto the verge.
“Whoops”
For the rest of the short drive to your cottage Sy paid attention to the road, pulling onto the driveway as the gravel crunched under the tyres of the truck.
“Never gonna be able to do a surprise visit with this gravel” he commented
“That’s the whole point”
Sy paused as he rounded the truck, considering your answer;
"I had never thought of it in that way. Now it makes sense"
"The fence too, and the roses and briars. Hostile architecture. Anyone tries to climb over the fence its so old and rickety that it's clear it'll fall over, likely tipping you into a patch of thorns"
You unlocked the door and deactivated the alarm, waiting for the three beeps before stepping inside and dropping your bags on the floor. The house was quiet, flecks of dust floating in the beams of sunlight that fell in puddles on the wooden floors. Sy stood in front of you, pulling you into his arms;
"So, what are your plans for today?"
"Lunch with Tam later, and I guess trying to find a gift for Walter?"
"So… no plans for the next few hours?"
You could sense the hopefulness to Sy's voice, and you could feel your body respond to the idea he was silently suggesting. Slipping your hand into his you turned and led him up the stairs, an appreciative hum as he realised you had agreed to his unspoken suggestion.
Stepping into your bedroom you felt like a Jane Austen character about to be ravaged by the handsome suitor, a bang of nerves nudging the arousal from top spot, Sy picking up immediately on your change;
"Are you ok? We don't have to…"
"No, I still want to. I'm just not super experienced in bed. You'll be the second guy i ever slept with"
Resting his hands on your upper arms Sy pressed a kiss to your forehead;
"Numbers don't matter. I wouldn't care if you had been with one or fifty before me"
Hooking his finger beneath your chin he tilted your head to meet his kiss, starting tentatively at first before it rapidly got heated. His hands cradled your face as you pulled his t-shirt out of his shorts, pushing it up his muscled torso. Digging your fingers gently to the wide chest, he pulled his shirt over his head before practically ripping your dress off, his hands moving to cup your breasts, feeling the soft flesh beneath the lace. Reaching around he deftly unhooked your bra with a practised skill, tossing it aside. You dragged your fingernails down his stomach before flattening your palm and slipping it into the waistband of his cargo shorts, feeling the rough bush of hair which his happy trail climbed from.
"I need you so bad" he admitted, taking hold of your other hand to rest against the obscene bulge tenting the front of his shorts.
With a sly smirk you moved your efforts to unbuckling his belt and unzipping him, letting the garment fall to the floor with a heavy thunk where his pockets were weighed down with keys and change. Just as you were going to get your hands back on him he surprised you by lifting you up and tossing you onto your bed, his big hands pulling your panties down your legs before he lay between your thighs, his mouth immediately on your pussy.
“Sy, I need you… I need you inside me”
He looked up and smiled;
“I know Honey, I need to be inside you too, but i gotta loosen you up first, don’t wanna hurt you”
“Ohh” you relaxed and let Sy go to town, enjoying the feel of his wide tongue and soft lips skillfully bringing you to the edge before you came. It was a soft and gentle orgasm, a starter to the meaty and filling main course that would follow.
Sy climbed up your body, peppering your skin with kisses before he settled between your legs. The weight of him was a comfort, thick corded muscle surrounding you at your most vulnerable, safe in the cage of his arms. He kissed you and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You found yourself instinctively squirming beneath him, the feel of his hardened shaft nestling between your soaked petals.
"Eager, aren't we?" Sy teased
"Please Sy, i'm ready"
Pushing himself up you watched as his positioned the fat tip at your entrance then paused and cursed;
"Fuck… protection…"
Your eyes went wide. In the past you had been on the pill but had stopped that as soon as you'd left James. Without any desire to even consider dating up until Sy you certainly weren't prepared;
"I don't have any…"
"When is your period due?"
"Umm…" now was not the time for your head to be considering your calendar; "By the end of the week"
"Okay… I can pull out, you should be past ovulating, right?"
"'Bout a week ago i had my ‘hungry horse’ three days, so yeah" referring to the short period of time when your appetite suddenly ramped up after you had ovulated.
Sy looked deep into your eyes as if trying to see any doubt;
“Are you sure about this?”
You were so turned on you probably weren’t thinking straight, your pussy making the decisions for you as you hooked your legs around Sy’s butt and pulled him closer;
“I need you inside me now”
“Okay okay, baby, relax for me”
Sy reached down and positioned himself at your entrance, his attention darting between where your bodies were about to be joined and your face, gauging your reaction as he slowly pushed into your welcoming body.
“Holy motherfucking…” Sy cursed as he stretched you out, yet his muttered words floated away as you were overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you.
You hadn’t realised you were holding your breath until Sy pressed a single kiss to your cheek and spoke softly;
“Honey, you’re gonna have to relax otherwise i’m gonna cum sooner than either of us want”
“I am… I'm trying to. I’m just waiting for the pain”
Sy paused;
“The pain?”
“Yeah… when you hit my cervix”
He held himself up on one arm as he softly cradled your cheek with his big hand;
“Oh Honey, I'm not gonna do that. I’m fitting just fine and don’t need to go any deeper, Hell, I ain't got no more inches to go deeper anyway. I’m guessing your ex was longer? And didn’t care that he hurt you?”
You nodded;
“But Sy, you’re not small, James was really long but really narrow…” you smiled up at him; “I like the feel of how thick your cock is, it feels really good”
Sy pressed a single kiss to your lips;
“Oh I'm not worried about my size Honey, I know I got a good deal. Now, how about I make you feel even better? How ‘bout I show you why girth is better than length?”
You smiled at him and nodded, to which he reached his head down and pressed a kiss to your lips before he slowly rolled his hips. You could feel the smooth slide as his cock rubbed against your inner walls, each ridge and vein caressing you whilst the bulbous crown curved up and cushioned against your g-spot. Resting your hands on his muscled back you let pleasure take over, suddenly realising just how skilled Sy was as a lover.
As the senses of summer filled the room you felt a bliss like you had never before. Muted light coming in the windows, the scent of the garden blooms in the air. Birds and crickets in the distance were the only sounds beyond those the pair of you were making. The air was thick and heavy, another summer storm brewing rapidly but the heat only made your lovemaking more intense. Almost every sense was fulfilled except taste, your subconscious deciding to go for the whole set as when Sy rolled his hips and filled you again, you craned your neck and instinctively licked the side of his neck, tasting the sheen of sweat that had appeared on his skin.
“Oh Honey, you wantin’ a taste?” Sy muttered menacingly; “You ain’t the only one”
Gripping your hips he pushed up on his knees, never pulling out of you as he rocked his pelvis, but your ass was resting on his thighs as he widened his stance on the bed. He slid one hand into the small of your back, supporting it as you arched your spine, his other hand resting on the bed beside your head. The angle gave him enough room to continue to fuck you as he kissed and sucked at your breasts, taking a mouthful of titty before switching to the other.
As the room grew darker you could sense petrichor in the air, that impending humidity before a storm broke. Sy growled as he felt your body tightening, and as his sound faded away a rumble of thunder followed as if an answer.
Shifting, Sy straightened his body, kneeling on the bed as he gripped your waist with both hands, rolling his hips with each thrust;
“C’mon baby, cum for me, i’m getting so fucking close, let me see you cum for me”
You were already so close you didn’t need Sy’s words, but as your hands instinctively reached for something to grip onto you felt your fingers straining against the cotton fibres of the sheets as your final barriers dissolved and your orgasm finally crested. Lost on a wave of utter bliss you were in a haze of euphoria, the world around you no longer existing apart from the groans of Sy as he came too.
You missed how Sy watched you in all your beauty, chewing on his lip as he placed his hand over your abdomen and could feel as his cock pumped ropes of cum into you. Thoughts he would never share surged through his mind as he knew gravity would be flooding your widened cervix with his seed, and it was if he could feel the searing heat he’d filled you with warming his hand through your body. Mesmerised by the notion he would see your belly swell over time he was lost in the moment, before you reached for his hand, your palm sweaty;
“Sy… lay with me. I need you to hold me”
As if coming out of a trance he shook his head before tenderly pulling out of you and moving back, setting you softly down before he curled around your body at your side, cupping your cheek and turning you until the tips of your noses met;
“Fuck me, that was amazing” he muttered.
-
Later you were both showered and redressed, Sy holding an umbrella for you as he escorted you back to his truck to drive you into town for your lunch with Tam. Pulling up to the kerb outside Antonios’ he killed the engine before jogging around to the passenger side, opening the door and holding his hand out for you, smiling kindly when he glanced at your shorts;
“No dress incidents this time”
“I’ve learnt my lesson”
Taking your hand he walked you up to the outside patio where Tamara was already waiting for you, giving her a smile and nod before placing a kiss on your cheek;
“Have fun, i’ll call you later”
The pair of you watched as Sy returned to his truck, smiling and waving as he drove off before Tam rested her elbows on the table and leant forwards;
“So… tell me everything…”
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Light My Fire | Chapter 5
Masterlist
< Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 >
Plot: having lost everything you are drowned in depression, which had happened to you a year ago. Now you need to struggle with the apocalypse as well with no sparkle in your heart. But there is one man who can light your fire to live.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader
Word count: 2.5k
Pronouns: you, she/her
Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, swearing, smoking, vomitting, Shane gaslighting, soft Merle (in his own way), hurt and comfort, fluffy Daryl, differences from the main plot may occur, bad English (not my first language).
If I miss something, please let me know. I hope you enjoy :).
Taglist: @your-shifting-gurl @bae-live-0 @richardsamboramylove55 @deansapplepie
The sourness gathered in your jaws, and cold sweat soaked your tank top. You realized you were almost throwing up because of the anxiety overwhelming you. Barely hearing a familiar voice calling your name, as it was ringing in your ears, you ran several feet, stopping near one of the trees and vomiting. Daryl came up to you, seeing your pathetic state.
“Are ya okay?” the archer’s voice sounded concerned. You breathed heavily, shaking your head.
“What’s goin' on with ya?” the man couldn’t stop but continued asking, hoping he could help you somehow.
“Nothing,” you replied, not wishing him to be immersed in your problems. He’s a great buddy but not a friend to spill everything on.
“Merle’s on a run tomorrow. Should he bring a pregnancy test?” Daryl shifted from one leg to another and started to chew his fingers. Every body movement showed how he was nervous and regretting what he’d just said. He understood it wasn’t his business, and this probably would make you push him away.
“Who taught you manners, Dixon?” you spat the remaining bitterness out of your mouth.
“Ya’ve been looking like shit for a fortnight,” the man bit his lower lip. “Being pale, crying, now throwing up. Thought ya…”
“I’m not pregnant, Daryl. Just a rebound effect and anxiety,” you straightened up, wiping your mouth with your forearm, and went past the embarrassed archer, getting back to the place you had been sitting the whole day.
“Wanna talk 'bout it?” he stood behind your back, keeping his distance, ready to leave you alone.
“Dunno,” you closed your face with your palms. “Just not sure you want to hear complaints from a stranger,” you sobbed as your own words hit your weak point: your fear of loneliness you’d been through this time.
“I’m not good at labels, but ya’re not a stranger to me, Y/N,” Daryl stood for a while, then decided to walk away before he heard your “okay.” He slowly came back to you to sit beside you silently, as if you were an animal he was hunting for, and any noise could scare you.
“So, if ya don’ need a test, then could he find medicines for ya?” Daryl turned his face to you, hoping to see yours.
“Thanks, ain’t no need,” you faced him with a sad smile. “I’m afraid it’ll do worse. I just need time, and this will go away. At least I hope so.”
You both looked into each other's eyes, sitting silent for a moment.
“Who hurt ya?” Daryl’s low, raspy voice sounded soothing, and his blue eyes still pierced yours.
“A lot of things and people,” you gasped, looking somewhere away. “I lost my parents a year ago, which led to depression. My boyfriend couldn’t bear it anymore and broke up with me half a year later,” your tears spilled, recalling Shane and Lori in the forest, then thought about Rick who would be there, and nothing similar would have happened. “I lost my best friend, almost my brother, right before the outbreak. I…” your voice cracked, “I’m so fucking tired, Daryl,” his heart flipped seeing your face grimace because of the pain you were suffering from. To his own surprise, he hugged you, gripping you by your shoulder and stroking it a bit clumsily but gently. You laid your head on his chest, which made Daryl tense his muscles for a moment, but he overcame the tension and relaxed. “I will not make it. I can’t. I’m fed up with everything. I did have hope I could overcome, but… I’ve seen something today I shouldn’t have to,” you silenced for a moment, not sure if you want to continue talking about it.
“I’ll hold any secret of yours if this is an issue,” Daryl’s voice became almost a whisper, while he didn’t stop comforting you, which he himself found so natural though still strange.
“I found my ex fucking with my best friend’s wife… Widow.” your lower lip quivered in pain, and your eyes stung with the new wave of tears.
Daryl frowned as he figured out who you were talking about. “Shane? Your ex?”
The man felt your nod and the warmth of the tears dropping on his shirt.
“He’s a dickhead and doesn’t deserve your tears,” Daryl’s hand gently squeezed your bicep, slightly gripping you closer to him. The archer was shocked by his own words and body movements as if he was not in control of himself. Everything wasn’t typical for him though he instinctively wanted to make you feel, if not fine, then a bit relaxed. You reminded him of a small kitten curled up in his big palms, shivering and crying. Such a small and fragile creature that needed protection.
“Thank you,” your whisper completely melted Daryl’s heart.
You were sitting silently for several minutes which seemed like an eternity. There was only him, and you were caged in his warm hug, sitting on the ground and hearing cricket sounds. This was enough for you to finally calm down. His body warmth and his natural scent mixed with tobacco and hand strokes were so soothing that it made you feel safe. You closed your eyes, relaxing into his hug.
“Talking about Merle. Could I ask him to find me a tent then?” you asked in a sleepy voice.
Daryl nodded. “Mhm. I’ll ask. And ya can sleep in mine today if ya want. I’ll be at Merle’s,” the archer’s low voice vibrating in his chest where your head was leaning made you feel dizzy.
“Thank you, Daryl,” you raised your head, aligning too closely with the man’s face, as his brain didn’t work out to lose the hug quickly. You met his crystal blue eyes, and his hot breath near your lips. Daryl, feeling butterflies in his stomach, forced his arm to loosen the hug so the awkwardly small distance became longer.
“Ya need ta eat and sleep, Y/N,” Daryl stood up on his feet and offered you his hand. You laid your arm in his and stood up clumsily, almost losing your balance. Daryl held you by your bicep. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“I’ll eat tomorrow, want just to sleep,” Daryl nodded, and you both walked towards the camp.
“Daryl,” you gently grabbed his hand, making him look at you.
“Wha’?”
“Can we get around the camp?” you looked up at him sheepishly, leaving his arm. “I don't wanna see either Shane or Lori now,” Daryl nodded in response, and you walked in another direction.
When you approached the archer’s tent, Daryl kneeled and unzipped it to take a blanket and make sure it would be cozy enough for you to sleep.
“Here it is,” the archer stood for a moment looking at you, waiting for you to get inside the tent.
“Thank you,” you replied in a sheepish voice.
“Stop it, please, ‘s nothin’,” Daryl felt uncomfortable as you were too thankful for such simple things, as he thought. In reality, he hadn’t just gotten used to it as no one had ever said these words to him.
“Good night,” Daryl whispered gently.
“Good night, Daryl,” you smiled at him and got inside the tent.
—
You woke up quite early when the sunlight was only showing on the horizon. The morning was quite cold because of the forest and water nearby. The air was so humid that it was hard to breathe in.
You covered yourself with a blanket and headed to Lori and Carl’s tent to grab your bag where your essentials were. You made it successfully without much noise and headed back. You put your bag on the ground and went nearby to find some wood and stones to set a small fire.
After the preparations, you took the jezve out of the bag with a coffee package and a bottle of water left from the previous brewing. Should be enough for two. You put some coffee in a jezve, poured some water, and put it on the fire.
When the coffee was brewing, you had a look at the camp which was still sleepy. You heard the sound of footsteps on the dry leaves and turned around to see Daryl walking out of the forest. You met his gaze, which made you smile gently. He was coming up to you, biting his lower lip and holding a flower in his right hand.
“Good morning, Daryl,” you said silently and put out two small cups to pour the coffee.
“Morning,” he sat in front of you with a grumpy face as he was too nervous and gave you the flower. “Sorry for being an asshole, Y/N.”
You chuckled and took the flower, tucking it behind your ear and giving him a cup in turn. “That’s okay, Daryl,” you replied, blushing, as he was so freaking cute, and it made you smile wider.
Daryl held the cup and wasn’t quite brave enough to look up at you. “Didn’t know I deserved this,” his gaze still somewhere on the ground.
“You are always welcome here until supplies stop,” Daryl finally looked at you, seeing you smiling. He blushed a bit and chuckled in response. You both felt so calm and relaxed.
“Morning little birdies,” Merle’s voice hit you both. You saw him going out of the tent, stretching his muscles after the night's sleep.
“Morning. Coffee?” you replied calmly, smiling while noticing how Daryl’s expression changed, the reason of which you didn’t get.
“Nah, thanks,” Merle replied to you and grinned at his brother, messing up his hair. Daryl jerked at the touch. “Got some business today. Looking for a tent for some stunning lady. But it can be unnecessary till she lets me know she could stay in mine before I go,” the man winked at you before you choked on the coffee.
“Merle,” Daryl almost growled at his brother.
“Wha’? If yer a pussy who cannot stay with a hottie in a tent, god knows I won’t miss the chance.”
“Merle,” the archer’s voice started having furious tones.
“Jus’ kiddin’ lil brother, keep calm,” Merle patted Daryl’s shoulder. “But if you change your mind…” the man paid attention to you still coughing.
“Almost died,” you cleared your throat, wiping the tears. “You’d better invite me for a date first,” you exhaled, hoping the spasms relieved. Merle sighed and walked up to you.
“If the younger wastes time, I promise, ‘ll do this,” the man took your hand and pecked it, looking into your eyes. “Have a good one, princess.”
You were watching Merle go away and then looked at Daryl, who was looking on the ground, already holding a cigarette and fidgeting his fingers.
“Daryl, are you okay?” you asked the man whose mood changed drastically compared to what he had before. The archer simply nodded and stood up.
“I’ll be tomorrow, want ta check another perimeter further from ‘ere. Maybe I‘ll find somethin’,” he mumbled, taking his crossbow.
“Take care, Daryl,” he looked at you, admiring you sitting in his blanket with the flower tucked behind the ear. Your eyes pierced his with an exhausted look. The archer nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, and walked away.
—
You were helping Carol in the kitchen. The woman couldn’t hide her happiness seeing you around, telling how nervous she was. You were just shyly chuckling in response, also feeling awkward as Shane and Lori were passing by you time after time. Sometimes Carl was trying to talk to you, showing you the pictures he drew with Sofia, and you were happy to talk to him, but Lori always called him, finding a new reason every time.
“Is it me or she doesn’t want you to communicate?” Carol asked silently, standing beside you to cut a few vegetables.
“You’re right,” you replied, glancing at the woman who was sitting near Carl, who was reading out loud.
Your attention was caught by a new sports car that arrived at the camp, making so much noise. Shane already ran up to the car, seeing it was Glenn, happy like a kid finding a new toy.
Then a van arrived at the camp. People around seemed cautious until they saw your group going out. You smiled with relief.
“Carol, I’ll be later. Maybe my new tent has arrived,” the woman nodded to you, and you went to the van almost running. Reaching out to the side of the driver's seat, you saw Merle was missing.
“Where’s Merle?” your voice got an anxious tone, your eyes roaming between people to find the answer when suddenly you saw another man wearing a sheriff's uniform going out of the car. “No way,” the air was caught in your throat as if you forgot how to breathe. “Rick!” you whispered.
“Y/N,” the man’s hoarse voice hit you, causing tears of happiness. You jumped into his embrace, caging him in your arms. Here he is, safe and alive as if nothing had happened before.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” your voice is trembling because of the tears washing your face. The man tugged you closer, his hand on the back of your head.
“I can’t believe it,” he whispered and turned his head to see if there are Lori and Carl when you felt his heart started almost jumping out of his body. You relieved the hug and saw Rick going towards Carl, already running to him. Shane standing near the sports car turned pale.
“Where’s Merle?” you repeated the question, seeing T-Dog and Andrea hesitating to answer.
“There was a problem in Atlanta. We needed to cuff him. He was behaving dangerously,” T-Dog mumbled, wiping the sweat appearing on his forehead.
“What?” you silenced. “How could you..?” You couldn’t find any words, feeling the emotions boiling in your chest.
“We didn’t have a choice,” Andrea’s voice caught your attention.
“What the hell does it even mean?”
Your blurred vision started to be clear when you saw yourself already screaming at Glenn, asking him to give you keys.
“Y/N,” Rick was coming up to you, “What’s the problem?”
“You cuffed a person in the city full of walkers, are you serious?” you were quickly cut off by Shane chuckling.
“Rick, don’t pay attention. She’s just hanging out with him and his brother.”
“Mind your own business, Shane,” you barked in response.
“Rick, should we cuff her as well? She absolutely went nuts without her pills,” you made several running steps toward Shane when felt Rick’s hands gripping you tightly.
“What did you just say?” you yelled at the man, trying to free yourself from Rick.
“One fool makes many. Ah, no, two fools.”
“Hey, hollyrolly, which part of 'Mind your own business' didn’t you get?” you barked in response to Shane, whose facial expression turned furious.
“Shut up, you both!” Rick shouted, “Y/N, let me explain,” the sheriff cupped your face so that you could see him and listen.
< Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 >
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixon / reader#daryl dixon / you#daryl dixon x you#daryl / reader#daryl / you#daryl x you#daryl dixon fanfiction#Daryl dixon series#The Walking Dead#the walking dead series#the walking dead fic#twd#twd fanfiction#twd fanfic#norman reedus#daryl dixon fanfic#twd daryl#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon x y/n
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Hello! I saw ur how animals love or something like that with Twisted Wonderland and I was wondering if u could do same with malleus, azul, floyd and Jade (maybe for their part + including Azul, u could make them in their "animal" form, I said "animal" bc they have half of the top of their body human only bottom is animal what I saw in the image) it's okay if u don't wanna! Sorry bad english
How Do Animals Love? Pt 2
Feat. Octavinelle; Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech and Malleus Draconia
How do they show love with their animal sides?
They/Them pronouns for reader. Reader is referred to as Yuu.
A/N: I intended to add the fish mafia to the first part but couldn’t decipher a damn thing about how morays or octopus show affection to mates or if they even do that so buckle up and get ready for my bullshit marine biology report lol ✨
Octopuses show affection with cuddling! They are very curious creatures and tend to learn about new things with lots of touching!
Azul more than likely won’t allow Yuu to see his animal form unless they are very close and they swear not to tell anyone how chubby he is in said form. Until then, he’s always got his hands on them, cradling their face and rubbing their cheeks or just wrapping an arm around them. Yuu is basically his personal body pillow.
His tentacles have a mind of their own. Azul can’t stop himself from wrapping them around Yuu just to hold them close. Yuu leaves cuddle sessions looking like they’re covered in hickies from head to toe. Those suction cups are no joke. Jade and Floyd tease them and Azul relentlessly for this.
“Hm? Oh hello, angelfish! No, don’t go, I was just doing some work. Sit here and let me hold you. We can do whatever you like once I’m done… My dear, why are you wearing that? Nobody needs to see the marks from my tentacles on your body! The twins are still bullying me after last time! … *sigh* You are lucky you’re adorable.”
Morays are weird little freaks of nature. Their “affection” is basically not biting the hell out of you so long as you give them food and pets.
In Jade’s case, he prefers pets! He’s a little touched starved so when he’s in need of love, Yuu can expect him to suddenly wrap them in a warm hug from behind or nuzzle into their neck to leave kisses or bites if he’s in a certain mood.
Sometimes Jade will show up to Ramshackle just for some love. There’s nothing he loves more than laying in Yuu’s lap with his arms around them while they stroke his hair. He also really likes massages. Giving them or receiving? Both, he’s happy either way.
“Yuu, my darling, are you busy right now? I had a rather long day at the Monstro Lounge and I could use a recharge… Oh, you give such healing hugs. How would you like to go for a swim with me today?”
Ever heard of the diver who fed a moray for 5-6 years so every time she went diving the moray would show up for pets? That is Yuu and Floyd.
Floyd likes to joke about how delicious Yuu look and playfully trying to bite their cheek. Yuu, taking the shenanigans a bit too literally, now gives Floyd snacks so he’ll stop staring at them with hungry eyes.
He’s not actually gonna eat them of course! But hey, he’s not gonna say no to free snacks. Plus the fact this little human’s first reaction to seeing Floyd is holding up a cookie or something is indescribably cute and hilarious to him.
“Oh woe is me, I feel dizzy! I could certainly go for some delicious shrimp right now… Lil Shrimpy! Don’t give me that look! You know I’m just teasing ya, c’mere. *smooch* I actually am hungry though. Let’s get Jade to cook us something tasty!”
Dragons hoard shiny things and other stuff they consider treasure. That includes Yuu.
Nobody actually knows if Malleus has his own dragon treasure hoard. There’s rumors that his hoard lies somewhere in an abandoned castle in his hometown or in a secret place on Sage’s Island. Surprise! It’s in Ramshackle Dorm. Malleus sees Yuu as his most precious treasure so naturally he ended up leaving shiny objects around the dorm. It started with little things like gold coins or little jewels until it became a full blown hoard.
Yuu just moves all of Malleus’s treasure items into an empty bedroom where nobody grim can mess with it. Now that room is kind of like their nest. Malleus loves to lay in there with Yuu in his arms, hidden away from the world. A room full of beautiful jewels and gold and other treasures but his eyes remain on Yuu.
“Do you like that diamond I found, child of man? You may keep it if you like… Lay here with me for a moment, darling. Does this not feel like a fairytale? A dragon guards a castle and inside lies mountains of treasure and a beautiful prince/princess… Only I won’t let any knights steal you away from me.”
#ren writes#twisted wonderland#twst#twst yuu#twst x gn reader#twst x yuu#octavinelle#diasomnia#azul ashengrotto#jade leech#floyd leech#malleus draconia
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So Damn Pretty
Chapter 6
Part 5 : Part 7 :
Pairing: Johnny Slaughter X Female Reader
Summary: Johnny is sex starved and you’re very attractive, so attractive that he doesn’t want to kill you. Instead he finds ways to keep you around longer.
Note: How was this chapter? Sorry it took so long been busy lol. Also I have like 18 story ideas for Johnny and some of them will be super freaky/fucked up but I’m not sure if that will be liked or not.
Warning: This is 18+ and please do not read if your sensitive to heavy descriptions of non/con and violence. Including bondage, blood, gore, assault, objectification and unsafe sex. For those who don’t mind, I hope you enjoy.
Johnny and I enter the house together. He returns me back to Sissy, who is working diligently on the washing. Just before Johnny leaves, he discreetly grabs my buttcheek really hard, making me embarrassingly squeak. He laughs out while walking away after seeing my red face. Now that Johnny is gone, I calm down, fix my appearance, and proceed to help Sissy with the laundry.
She notices me walking towards her and smiles. "Heya pumpkin, mind hanging out these for me?" She says this while soaking the clothes in a tub of clean water, twisting out the dirt, and scrubbing them. I grab the clean pile and place the damp laundry into a nearby basket. I go out to the backyard to hang them on this flimsy line. Though I'm extra careful when I come across Johnny's clothes, I display them more neatly than the rest.
While the washing dries, Sissy and I get to the dishes. We converse as we work. "Your help has been so wonderful, sugar." She claps her hands happily. "Hopefully I'll get to show my music collection later on." She makes It seems like something is going to happen to me. "Why are you hopeful, Sissy?" I ask.
She's developing a wide, devious grin. "Tonight is the night you're finally going to eat your' little blonde friends, and if ya' eat em’, ya' get to live with us!" Her smile drops when she sees my disturbed face. She grabs my hands and brings herself into my personal space. Making me uncomfortable.
"Promise me ya' eat the food, sug? I really like ya' and I'll hate for ya' to get killed like ya’ friends." She frowns, squeezing my hands hard and awaiting my answer.
"I promise." I tell her quietly, not really having a choice. I'm scared of how quickly Sissy can get upset. I can’t forget who she is underneath all that sweetness.
I don't want to eat humans, no less my friends, but what other options do I have?
"Johnny wants ya' to eat too, ya' know?" She slyly says stepping back, sprinkling more salt to my wound. "Ya' don't wanna disappoint him now." My heart squeezes at the thought of upsetting him.
"I'll do it; I'll eat." I tell her more confidently. She smiles joyfully. "That's a good girl!" After that, we return to work. I grimace, feeling emotionally overwhelmed and sticky. My thighs are covered in a mix of Johnny's dried cum and saliva. He just had to fuck me right after a lovely shower. Now I have to wait until tonight to have another one. That's if I survive tonight...
No backing out; I'll eat the food and earn my keep. I want to stay alive. I want to be with Johnny.
“We gotta feed Grandpa.” Sissy mentions interrupting my train of thought. She points to a bucket across the room that’s got a bloodied sack hanging over it, draining blood into the tub. It was not a very pleasant sight or smell. She grabs two vials from the kitchen sink, bringing them to the tub. Filling them up.
"We will feed him together and then make lunch; Pa’s here, so he’s making dinner tonight. You're going to love it! He's an award-winning cook, ya know." She tells me cheerfully as she finishes filling the vials.
We go to the living room, where her grandpa is. He appears to be on his deathbed. I grimace a little as I look him over. Is he even alive? Sissy informs me that he's incredibly over one hundred years old, and his secret is fresh blood. “The fresher the better!” She exclaims. “Especially from the pretty ones, it keeps him going."
She gives me a vial, pushing me forward. “This is Y/N grandpa; she is our little maid, and she's going to feed you' today.” Sissy giggles, grabbing my reluctant hand and bringing it up so the vial touches his dry lips, forcefully moving my wrist so the red liquid pours into his mouth.
I cringe from disgust as the blood slides into his mouth. He lets out these gleeful groans, sucking up the blood.
“There you go, grandpa, isn’t she lovely?" Sissy pulls me aside to give her veil of blood to him. "Grandpa has always loved pretty gals. Y/N, you've made him very happy." I sigh at her words, hoping I don’t have to do this every day. It's too gross.
By the time we finish up with Grandpa and fold the laundry, the afternoon slowly starts rolling into the night, and soon so will dinner.
Sissy and I are currently watering the flowers around the house, trimming the dead branches, and tidying up their appearance. While I finish the last rose bush, the smell of what’s being cooked for dinner makes its way to my nose. And shit, it smells amazing. "Ooh, I’m so excited for dinner, sugar; I know it’s going to be a treat!” Sissy exclaims. Opposite to her, I’m absolutely wrecked with anxiety. I’m going to be a different person after tonight.
The next thing you know, we hear that familiar bell ring. “Come on, sug, first ones in, first one served.” She skips over, grabbing my hand and pulling me along. She’s very forceful today.
I feel a lot tenser than usual; my stomach is hallow as I sit down at my usual spot with Sissy. This time, Bubba is helping Drayton with dinner. Dishing up everything, he’s wearing a feminine-looking mask while in a purple suit. I guess he dressed up for the occasion.
Nubbins and Johnny walk in, taking their usual spots, with Johnny right in front of me. Looking at me with his typical grin. I look down into my lap, unable to hold eye contact with him; he leaves me feeling so flustered.
Bubba comes behind me and places down what looks like a normal bowl of chilli, which I know is something much more sinister. Don’t think about it; if I start acting up, it will be the end. Take a deep breath and calm down; it’s just normal chilli.
Drayton, last to arrive, sits down with Bubba. All eyes are on me, like hawks waiting for me to take the first bite. I shut my eyes. It’s not a big deal; just imagine you with normal people eating a normal dinner. I shakily grab a spoon and scoop a sample of the food into my mouth. It’s tragically delicious.
Tears roll down my face as I hungrily eat seconds, and cheers and laughter roar around at me, Johnny and Sissy especially. Shining their pearly whites ear to ear. The rest of the family starts to dig in. Devouring their food down greedily—it's all just white noise to me.
Same as yesterday, Sissy, and I clean up after everyone. I’m silent while I clean the dishes, unlike Sissy, who is joyfully singing around the kitchen. I feel queasy, but I got to get over it. It doesn’t matter now; what’s done is done.
It’s late. After having another shower, I hoped to get some sleep, but it’s impossible, so now I'm just lying on my bed in just some panties and a shirt, staring up at the ceiling and watching the shadows move from the strong wind.
I hear creaking from the stairway as familiar, heavy footsteps come to my door. I sit up, waiting as the door opens. Johnny walks in quietly, closing the door behind him.
He turns around and, of course, grins. He checks out my appearance, his gaze heavy on my chest, nipples poking out of the cold, looking down to my bare legs on display.
He glides over to me and sits on the bed, making it creek. He takes off his shoes and climbs further up. Sitting next to me, he places his large hand on my thigh, squeezing it.
Johnny looks me in the eyes with lust and something new. “I’m proud of you.” He says softly, grabbing my chin for a kiss. My heart flutters and pounds. The love I have for him deepens. I kiss back at him, and soon our tongues meet and fight. He tastes like cigarettes and mint. I lightly moan into his mouth as he inches closer to me and grips my shoulders.
He pushes back against the bed, climbing over me and sliding his hands down my body, feeling me up. I spread my legs when I feel his hands on them. He rubs my clit through my panties. “This pussy always so wet for me.” He admires rubbing his thumb down on the wet patch. I gasp and move my hips against his thumb.
“Johnny, please, I want you.” I beg him. I want his fat cock in me already. I bite my lip, thinking about it. The girth and veins. The way it bounces against his stomach when he pulls it out makes my pussy clench. My cunt throbs the more I imagine it. Fuck, I’m so horny for him.
“Just take my cock, sweetheart; don’t worry bout’ a thing.” He gets off the bed and begins to undress himself. Pulling off his black shirt, revealing his deliciously scarred body and thick muscles. His jeans come down, letting his swollen cock spring out. I don’t take my eyes off him; he’s so handsome it’s mesmerizing.
Johnny grins, noticing my staring, but unlike before, I don't feel shy. It's different this time. I want this; I want him. I take off my clothes, starting with my shirt. I sit up and slowly peel it off, showing him my chest. I play with my tits, pressing my fingers into my nipples. giving him a little show.
"Look who’s enjoying herself now.” Johnny speaks as he comes up to me, pulling my hands away from my chest. He climbs back over me. I lay down while he sits between my legs.
He places his hot mouth on my hard nipple, sucking it. while his free hand pinches and twists the other. I pant while gripping his hair tightly.
He pulls back up, grabbing my underwear and sliding it off. I spread my legs further for him, giving a full view of my drenched pussy to his appreciative eyes.
"Fuck, darlin' I’m so glad I kept you.” His words shoot electricity down to my cunt. I'm feeling so hot under his stare. I need him to touch me.
"Johnny, I need you inside me, please." I beg him. Johnny hums, still staring at my bare body. He grasps my knees, spreading my legs painfully further. He smiles at seeing my clit twitch.
"Here, darlin' does this feel good?" Johnny rubs his thick shaft against my clit, giving me a smidge of relief. I reply back with breathy moans. He slips further between my legs, getting into a comfortable position.
“You did so good today, sweetheart.” He whispers as he moves further up, kissing me from my chest to my neck. I hold onto his wide shoulders while he teases me.
He's being surprisingly gentle. I must have really made him happy during dinner. He's so handsome, and he's being so sweet. I feel safe with him. I want more of this. I want to be his forever.
His knees sit on the edge of the bed as my legs sit on his hips. Johnny places his hands next to my head for balance while he slowly slides his throbbing cock into my pussy. We both groan at the sensation. I dig my nails into his shoulder hard, still feeling tender from our last fucking.
He’s moving very slowly, taking his cock in for only a few inches and moving it back out. Fucking me softly in missionary, he continues his gentle thrusts while looking down at my face. I keep clenching around his cock, wanting more, now feeling dissatisfied. I move my hips against him, wanting him to speed up, but he continues to be gentle, smirking as he patiently sits his cock still in me.
I whine as fat tears fall out, frustrated with a pulsing cunt and clit. I need more of for him. I whine as Johnny chuckles licking up the tears falling down across my face.
“So needy.” He groans, speeding up, getting a steady rhythm. I nod my head in agreement, moving up to kiss him deeply.
He groans and kisses me back, now getting rougher while shoving his tongue in my mouth. I moan in enjoyment, wrapping my arms around his neck as I finally get more of his cock. It’s hitting that perfect spot, making me break away from the kiss and throw my head back, crying out loudly.
His hair is falling out of place as his thrusts get harder, dark locks framing his face while he bites his bottom lip. My hands grip his wrists to steady myself. God, he is a sight.
I wiggle my hips into his thrusts, grinding on him. He groans and lowers himself, putting his head into my neck. I can hear his heavy breathing and low moans; it sends shocks to my pussy. My clit pulse is now hungry for attention.
“You’re such a slut for my cock, sweetheart.” He groans into my neck, and my clit twitchs in agreement. “Yes!” I moan while my hand slides down between us, rubbing at my clit. "Yeah, darlin, rub your little clit.” He moans, licking his hot tongue along my neck as he keeps hitting my sweet spot.
"You're going to cum with me.” He decides, speeding up his thrusts and making the bed creek loudly. He pounds into me faster, working us both closer. My free hand grips his shoulder as I feel that familiar sensation. I rub my clit faster almost there. “I’m about to cum Johnny.” I whine to him, my pussy tightening around his cock, making him grunt.
"Oh, good girl.” He grunts out while I cum on his cock. My cunt constricts his shaft as I orgasm. Johnny’s cock twitches, and with one final hard thrust, he finishes deep inside me. Drowning my pussy with his seed.
He pulls out his wet cock and rolls over next to me. He's running his hands back through his hair, catching his breath. “Johnny?” I say his name softly, turning my head to look at him.
“Yeah doll?” He asks as he sits up, stretching. “Could you please stay the night?” I ask with hopefulness.
"Sure, doll, after one cig.” He smiles at my request. I feel the butterflies again in my stomach as I witness a softer side of him.
I clean myself up as he has his post-sex cigarette. I get under the cool bedsheets. Feeling fucked out and tired, soon he slides into the bed next to me, warping an arm tightly around my chest as we fall asleep.
#johnny slaughter#johnny slaughter x reader#johnny slaughter fanfic#texas chainsaw game#texas chainsaw massacre#the texas chainsaw massacre#tcm fanfic
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hairdressing | hawks x reader
little short where a long term customer recommends her stylist (you) to a coworker of hers <3
(HELP IDK WHERE THIS CAME FROM LOL)
soft rock filled the small space as you swept across the salon floor, making a small pile of your last client's blue hair. you smiled to nobody in particular, taking a deep breath. you really did love your job. it was an art to you, and every person who passed under your hands for a cut or dye felt like a small masterpiece.
you worked out of a small salon in downtown kyushu, on the cutest street corner across from a bakery. it had three stylist chairs in their respective stations, each decorated to their owners' liking. yours had small (f/c) prints along the wall, little butterflies scattered around, and your mirror was lined with some miscellaneous polaroids and string lights. at first they were just for the vibes, but you quickly noticed the majority of your clients finding a significant amount of joy in taking their instagram photos with it.
the other stations had been filled with personality of their own, belonging to your salon co-owners, two lovely people you became quick friends with in cosmetology school. however, one had clocked out for the day hours earlier and the other had no appointments, so the shop was yours to enjoy while you waited out the clock. of the three of you, you were the only one who didn't leave after the last client. you hardly made appointments before 10 am, so if you had some extra time before 6 pm, you would tidy the salon and see if you got any walk ins. if not, you closed at your 8 hour mark. every once in a while though, someone would wander in asking for a quick cut and you were always more than happy to comply.
so now was one of those evenings. your last client, coming in for a fresh trim, had walked out at 5:20. and here you were, just humming along with the music and bobbing your head.
a soft buzzing from the counter tore your attention away from the pile of blue hair you were sweeping and brought it to your phone, with an incoming call. you smiled softly at the icon, a picture of you and rumi from the last time you two had been able to go out together. at this point, it must have been months ago. she was always so busy with hero work now, which you completely understood, it just made you miss the days before she was number 5.
you had gone to the same middle school and stayed connected since. of course she went to a high school to get her hero license, (before you, too, since you met in her last year, and your first) but you wouldn't let that stop you from seeing her on weekends, or stop her from forcing you to help with the classes she didn't understand. in exchange, she let you practice on her hair to help your chances of getting into a better cosmetology school. hell, she even let you dye it once or twice. ever since, you were the only person who's cut her hair, ever.
you put the phone to your ear with a smile. "heyy, hunny bun! what's goin on?"
you heard her playfully scoff through the phone, as if you haven't been calling her that since you were 15.
"hey babes, just had a question for ya." her cheerful tone was unwavering as usual, you could practically hear her confident smile through the phone.
"mkay, shoot."
"are you with a client right now?"
you tucked your phone under your ear with your shoulder, picking up your broom and starting to sweep the pile towards the automatic vacuum in the corner. "mmm, no, my last one left just a few minutes ago, actually." you heard her say something you didn't quite catch, like she was talking to someone she was with. "why? what's up?"
"do you still take walk-ins until 6??" her tone was more eager now. you smiled a bit, wondering what for.
"yyeeaaahh?"
"oooo! okay perfect, then i have someone who desperately needs your help." you could hear annoyed and offended protests come from her line and you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. "oh shut up, you've let it grow too long and you know it! stop acting like a stubborn child." she chuckled slightly before turning her attention back to you. "think you've got time for a quick trim for my friend?"
with a small smile, you turned to the clock on the wall. "yeah, plenty actually. how far away are you guys? should i put up the closed sign in the window in case someone else comes in?"
"nah, don't worry about that. we just got off patrol like four blocks from you. should be five minutes, tops."
you stopped your sweeping and froze, just a bit. "patrol? you mean i'm doing one of your pro hero friends' hair?"
"well you've been doing mine since we were 13, i figured it wouldn't be a big deal." she sounded so casual, which was in character for her, yet still astonishing to you, considering the circumstances.
"i mean yeah, but i know how to do your iconic haircut because i've been doing it for, i don't know, almost 10 years?? not to brag, but i'm probably the only one who can do it just the way you like. but if you bring me some big shot hero and i screw up his 'do, then it's all my fault." you chuckled slightly.
"ahh, don't sweat it y/n. i know you'll do a great job. besides, it's not like i'm bringing you chris hemsworth or something, it's just someone i work with every once in a while. feel free to screw up his 'do as much as you like." her end of the call was suddenly filled with miscellaneous protests and insistent "NO, DON'T DO THAT-"'s, followed by her cackling furiously.
you couldn't help but laugh yourself. "alright, well i'm gonna finish cleaning up from my last appointment. i'll see you in a few, yeah?"
"alright see you then babes."
"buh-bye hunny bun." you hung up, smiling softly, a bit excited for whatever was coming your way.
when the golden bell above your door rang just a few minutes earlier, you were reorganizing your hair colors. as soon as you turned around, you smiled and threw yourself at rumi in a big hug, laughing as she scooped you up and spun you around. it's a habit she'd picked up way back when she first started heavy lifting.
she squealed as she squeezed you, finally setting you down. "agh, i feel like it's been so long since i've seen you!"
you chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of your neck. "yeah, it's almost like that's because it has."
your smile changed into a curious look as you remembered why she was here, looking behind her at the eye-catching scarlet pair of wings on her friend. realization dawned upon you as your eyes met his, golden and piercing, even through his tinted glasses. you huffed a laugh and smirked, cocking your head to the side. he held out a gloved hand for a shake before stopping.
"oh-" he chuckled and bit the middle finger, pulling out his hand and offering it again, flesh and bone this time, for a friendly shake. "hey, i'm-"
"hawks. i'm familiar." you smiled and laughed softly. "call me y/n."
"pleasure to meet you, y/n." the way your name rolled off his tongue made you hesitate for just a moment, biting the inside of your cheek in thought.
"likewise... hey rumi?"
"mhmm?"
"remember when you called me earlier?"
she smiled playfully. "yeah, i think so."
"yeah, and you said, 'iT's nOt LiKe i'M bRiNgiNg ChRiS hEmSwOrTh'?"
"mhm mhm i think i remember that."
"so.. wanna tell me what the number two hero is doing in my salon, oh my God?"
she laughed loudly and patted you on the back. "y/n don't worry, i promise you have nothing to stress about. now i'm gonna pop into the bakey across the street and see if i can get anything before they close, why don't you go ahead and get started?" without waiting for an answer, she was already back in your doorway. "screw him up, yeah?" she winked playfully before closing the door and making her way to the crosswalk outside.
a moment of silence passed as you watched her make her way across the street before hawks spoke up.
"sooo.... please don't screw me up, too badly."
you laughed as you prepped the rinse station for him. "oh no don't worry, you're in perfectly adequate hands."
he let out an amused hum. "i don't know, adequate has to be an understatement, if you're the one doing rumi's hair. she told me you were the one who did her hair and makeup for that magazine she was in a few months back, said you style her for every event too." he shrugged off his jacket and slipped off his glasses, dropping them in one of your lounge chairs.
his easy going tone and relaxed smile had already made you feel more at ease. "yeah... well i mean, i guess i just know her, what looks good and what she likes, you know? we go pretty far back." you chuckled, motioning for him to come take a seat.
"well whatever you end up doing to me, i'm sure it'll look great." his relaxed, almost cocky smirk rested on his face comfortably. though you thought you saw it falter for just a moment when you pressed a hand to his chest to guide him back, neck resting on the edge of the bowl, head leaning into the sink.
"well let's hope so..." you smiled softly as you lowered your voice just a bit. "let me know if the water's too hot..."
he hummed as the warm water poured over his scalp, visibly relaxing. as easy going as he always seemed, it must have been exhausting to always be on guard, looking for trouble. "mm... 's perfect."
you bit the inside of your cheek again, smiling still. he exhaled softly as you massaged the shampoo into his scalp, looking like he was sinking into the chair even more.
"hawks..?"
he opened one eye, looking up at you. "hm?"
"you okay?"
"oh, yeah... sorry," he chuckles faintly. "just, feels good... sorry if that's weird."
"oh! no, ha, not at all."
as you go along with the rest of the wash, conditioning and rinsing, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever got attention like this. as far as the media could tell, he didn't have many personal relationships, and he reacted so easily to your touch, it was like he hadn't relaxed, had personal attention like this in a while.
you moved him to the chair without many words. as you comb through his hair, you look up for just a moment and catch his eyes on yours in the mirror. you continued what you were doing, holding his gaze.
"...what?"
his smile returned with an amused exhale. "nothing, just watching you work."
you returned the expression before turning your attention back to his hair. "okay.. so rumi said you needed a trim, how much exactly am i lopping off?"
"ah, probably an inch, hardly more. it's been getting in my eyes when i'm fighting, which is like skating on thin ice, so..."
you nodded, picking up your sheers. "okay, i get you."
"i usually get it cut every few weeks to keep it manageable, but the guy who was doing that before quit on me."
you tilted your head curiously as you began trimming around his neck. "really? why's that?"
"ah, i ended up having to see him pretty often, guess he kinda got fed up." he laughed lightly.
"every few weeks is already pretty often, why would you need to see him more often than that?"
"i solve issues before they can happen. but i also assist other heroes pretty often, walking into battles that have already started. and sometimes my own situations can still get out of hand. if i get banged up, chances are so does my hair. it's been burnt, ripped out, shaved around head injuries, pretty much anything you can think of."
as he talked, you pulled strands of hair to snip. every once in a while, you would notice small-ish scars buried under his overlapping layers.
"yeah, i think i see what you mean..." you gently run your fingers over one of them, watching carefully as his eyebrows quirk up slightly.
"yeah... anyway, guess the old stylist got tired of fixing me, and ended up quitting a few weeks ago. of course, i'm basically the commission's 'golden boy'," you didn't even have to look up to know his eyes were rolling. "so i guess he was the best in the area. that's why they're looking for someone new now, and why i've been looking just a bit overgrown." he chuckled lightly.
his eyes followed as you picked out your sheers and comb, making your way in front of him. his classic smirk stayed on his face as you leaned in closer.
your voice was low as you bent over just slightly, raising his chair. "sorry, just need to do your front parts quickly..."
"no worries..."
"so... if your image is such an important part of the job, why'd they higherups trust you to someone like me?" you smiled faintly. his eyes fluttered closed as you began to trim the hair falling around them.
"actually, that was mirko's idea. she speaks pretty highly of you, ya know. besides, she thought maybe, if you did a good job, she could convince the commission to hire you to take care of me." he winked playfully. though it was perfectly in line with his personality and was likely a regular habit for him, it still made your stomach drop for a moment. "if you're interested that is. she thought you might be. no pressure, of course."
you moved back behind him as you felt your cheeks heat up, putting down your tools before facing away. "uh huh..."
"wooow, i can see why she's got so much faith in you." his smile was obvious in his voice. when you turned back to face the mirror, you saw him admiring his reflection, hair still slightly damp and falling into his eyes. "i look sexy~"
you laughed and put your hands on his shoulders. "yeah yeah, i haven't even styled it yet."
he chuckled softly turning his head from side to side with a sly grin. "i'm not even sure you need to, sweetheart. you do know best, though."
it was hard to miss the flirty tone in his voice, and harder to ignore now that he was throwing in nicknames, but you were sure it was just his personality. he was a reputation charmer, after all. his ever-lingering smile made you grip your hairdryer just a bit tighter every time you caught his gaze on yours in the mirror.
as you were adjusting his fluffy hair, you noticed the texture was slightly lacking. "hey, your hair is kinda dry..."
he quirked up an eyebrow. "really? that's weird, i take great care of my hair."
"i mean it's not too strange, high winds will definitely do that." you looked around your shelf for a moment before picking up a few products. "i can fix it though."
he watched curiously as you pumped some leave-in conditioner into your palm, rubbing your hands together. as your fingers found their way into his hair, you first saw him relax before you felt him slightly lean into your touch. he sighed contently as you took your time massaging the product into his scalp, not wanting to interrupt how relaxed he looked.
"okay..." you spoke softly, voice low. "you're all done."
you smiled and unbuttoned the cape, watching as his smile grew. "honestly? bang up job, princess. i see why you get such glowing reviews."
you laughed lightly and shrugged. "thank you, but it's really not a big deal." you turned your attention to the shelf of product again. "oh, before i forget-" you picked up a small pink tub and handed it to him. "just use this in place of your conditioner and leave it for like 5 minutes, whenever you shower. should help with the dryness a ton."
he picked up his coat and took the container from you, his fingers lingering on top of yours for just a moment. "thanks... i owe you one." he winked again, and again you felt your stomach drop.
in a matter of perfect timing, rumi finally pushed open the door of your salon again, three little bags and a coffee in hand. "hey, sorry i took so long! i ended up getting something for both of you though!"
she handed you a small bag with your favorite pastry inside, still warm. you thanked her with a warm smile, turning to hawks, who looked less amused.
"poppy seed muffin?" he scoffed, his playful smirk returning. "you're hilarious."
"ahh, i know i am." rumi laughed lightly and threw her arm around you, still looking at hawks. "nice cut, by the way. told you she could restore your sight." the three of you shared a laugh as she took a swig of her coffee. "anyway, why don't you get out of here? i'll walk y/n home and catch you later, yeah?"
he nodded. "sounds good. hey, y/n, what do i owe you for the fresh cut?"
"oh, don't worry about it. it was just a trim and last month you totally saved my block from getting blown sky high, so we'll call it even." you smiled softly as he pulled out his phone.
"aww c'mon, at lease let me tip you."
you rolled your eyes playfully, deciding to not fight him. "i have a venmo qr code on my mirror if you really feel so inclined, but really, don't worry about it."
he sauntered over to your mirror and scanned it, tapping on his phone as he made his way to your door. "thanks again! i'll get your number from rumi so i can call you up next time i need your help." his flashed his pearly whites one last time as he closed the door behind him.
you turned back to rumi, who had begun to tell you all about everything that's happened since you last sat down together, when a knock sounded from your front window. you looked out to see hawks motioning to his phone and winking one last time before he finally took off.
you smiled and knit your brows in playful confusion until you felt your phone buzz. it was a venmo from hawks, with nothing but a small heart as the note. rumi almost spit out her coffee when she saw it, and your jaw was already on the floor.
this man had just tipped you $200.
***
as it turns out, the next time hawks would "need your help" was sooner rather than later. it was hardly 5 days later when you were walking from the coffee shop across the street to your own salon when your phone rang with an unknown number. you picked it up, expecting one of your clients maybe calling to reschedule or cancel. instead, you were met with the whistling of wind and a familiar smooth talking voice.
"heyyy y/n! it's hawks, i went ahead and got your number from rumi."
"oh-" you almost stopped in the middle of the crosswalk due to your surprise. "hey, what's up? did something come up?"
"nothing bad, no. are you at work yet?"
you smirked as you pulled out the keys from your pocket, trying to find the right one as you got to your door. "just arrived, actually. why?" no response. "hawks?"
as you slipped the key into the slot, you looked down at your phone and saw the call had disconnected. "okay.."
when a sudden rush of scarlet filled your vision, you yelped and almost dropped your coffee. hawks had practically fallen from the sky and landed right next to you, standing close, his cocky grin unwavering.
"oh my God, you scared the hell out of me!" you clutched your chest, laughing and waiting for your soul to come back to your body at the same time.
he chuckled and pulled something from under his coat. "sorry 'bout that sweetheart... would these make up for it?"
he held out a small bouquet of flowers in your favorite color.
"wh- what? why..."
"when you did my hair, i noticed the ones you had on your front counter were dying. i saw these on my way in this morning and they reminded me of you and your shop, thought they would look nice in the place." he smiled as you took them gingerly. "consider it a thank you!"
you opened the salon door with an exasperated smile, feeling it grow wider when he followed you in. "well they're beautiful and i appreciate them, but believe me, the VERY generous tip was more than enough."
you put the flowers in the now empty vase, adjusting them when he got close behind you. your eyes widened as his hand found your lower back, pressing slightly, his breath close to your neck.
"c'mon princess, just let me express my gratitude~"
you didn't realize you were holding your breath until he stepped back and you suddenly let it go. when you turned to face him again, his playful fun smile was back and he looked so casual, you almost wondered if you had imagined whatever the hell that just was.
"anyway, i've gotta be in soon, and i imagine you've gotta get your shop opened up, yeah?"
"ah...yeah.."
"then i'll catch you later. have a good one!" he left with a signature wink before taking off.
whatever that morning was, became a regular thing. every few days he would drop by for a visit for whatever reason- replacing your flowers, bringing you a pastry in the morning, offering to walk you home after work, even though you only lived a half a dozen blocks away.
and with every little reason to see you, came some "harmless" flirting that made your stomach do somersaults.
finally after almost three weeks he had actually come to you for the smallest clean up. while you lightly snipped his ends, he asked if you had considered the position of being his personal groomer. you told him you wanted to think about it more and he told you not to worry about it, but he did have a favor to ask.
in a few days time, he needed to be at an important event. just a hero dinner of sorts, it was meant to be all over the media though, so he needed to dress to impress. after seeing your work with rumi, the commission approved of you making hawks camera ready (upon his request, of course). it just standard hair and makeup, but it was an important job nonetheless.
against the better judgement you'd gained over the last few weeks of dealing with him, you agreed swiftly.
so here you were, outside his door with your cosmetology bag, ready to make up him and rumi.
rumi would take longer for both hair and makeup, so you decided to start with hawks. so she would be coming over later, which left just you. and him. alone. in his penthouse apartment. what could possibly go wrong.
aside front that he answered the door shirtless in sweatpants, nothing. so far.
he stood with one hand on the doorframe, the other on the door itself, towering over you with a sly grin. you had to force your eyes to stay on his face instead of wandering down to his incredibly cut core. you felt your stomach flood with butterflies as the softest flush covered your face, and he didn't take long to notice.
"you've got some good eye contact, sweetheart, i'll give you that."
his smile relaxed a bit as he stepped out of your way, opening the doorway of his apartment to you. you stepped in without mentioning any of whatever the hell just happened, biting the inside of your cheek with a soft smile.
you held up your bag, looking around. "where should i..?"
"ah," he began to move towards his living area, just a couple couches with a chair gathered around a coffee table. he plopped himself down on the soft rug of all places, in front of the table. "figured this might be a good place since, you know, you've got plenty of natural light to work with."
he was right, the entire wall across from his front door was basically made entirely of glass. it left a beautiful view of kyushu outside, with a terrace you imagined would be perfect to watch the sunrise from.
you smiled as you sat across from him, both of you cross-legged. "yeah, it's perfect actually..."
"perfect..." he mumbled to himself. his gaze lingered on you as you pulled out your makeup bag.
"so." you turned to him and scooted a bit closer, reaching a hand towards his face. "do you mind if i..." you hesitated, halting your hand just before your fingers grazed his skin.
he gulped and nodded, confident smirk faded as his pulse picked up. you lightly cradled his jaw and carefully turned his head from side to side.
"well you've got great skin... smooth, not oily, i doubt i'll have to do any base..." your voice was low as you spoke, talking more to yourself than him. he just hardly nodded as you inspected him closely. "i'll give you some highlight and contour though, just for the camera... your eyelashes are stunning..."
he cracked a small smile. "thanks.."
you returned the look and met his eyes. "you're welcome..."
time seemed to still between you for a moment. his eyes flicked to your lips for the shortest instant, you almost missed it. he inhaled deeply before clearing his throat and looking to the side. you sucked in a quick breath as you turned your attention back to your makeup bag, digging out a brush and a couple of small product bottles. you handed him a headband, still not looking at him.
"ah, so..." you took a deep breath before finally facing him. "here, i'll just go in with a thin base just in case. flash photography isn't the most flattering lighting,"
he chuckled softly, deep in his chest, and your heart skipped a beat.
the next few minutes went by with minimal conversation, mostly just you letting him know what you were doing now, and him nodding along or making small sounds of approval. silence otherwise filled the room as you tried to focus on your work, though his eyes constantly wandering over all of you made it slightly difficult.
when you finally made it to his classic eyeliner, you accidentally let your gaze wander to his lips. you pushed aside all your thoughts and impulses and channeled your inner makeup artist.
"hey hawks..."
he opened his eyes as you moved the eyeliner pen away. "hmm?"
"your lips are kinda pale, would it be okay if i put a little stain on them?"
"oh," he bit his lip and furrowed his brow. "yeah for sure, i'm probably a bit dehydrated." his smirk was back, resting on his lips comfortably.
"yeah.." you took another deep breath, trying to keep your face from getting too pink. "the lipstick i've got now should actually work fine, its somewhere in my purse..." you picked up your highlight stick and put your fingers under his chin to turn his head to the side. "i'll get it in a second..."
he hums softly in response. you carefully applied the highlights to all the right places, emphasizing his cheekbones and the tip of his already curved nose. you heard his breath falter, just slightly, when you cupped his face in your hand, using your thumb to blend it out on his cheek. to your surprise, he closed his eyes and leaning into your touch. it was your turn to have trouble breathing, even more so when he placed his hand over your own and looked at you with a piercing gaze. you stopped what you had been doing all together, frozen as he turned his head. he pressed a small kiss to your wrist, then another, his lips lingering for just a second longer this time.
at this point your heart was in your throat trying to process what was happening. when he turned his gaze back to you, everything stopped. his friendly smile was gone, replaced with a fierce look, demanding and intense. neither of you moved for a moment, just stared. your stomach jumped as his eyes moved to take a long look at your lips. the second his gaze met yours again, he pulled on your wrist, practically yanking you into his lap. his hands moved quickly, one pressing against your lower back (a touch you'd actually grown used to form him) and the other cradling the base of your neck.
you could feel his breath on your lips. all you had to do was tilt your chin and you would feel them against yours. his hand on your neck moved up into your hair, looking at you through half lidded eyes.
"can i kiss you?" he practically breathed out his words, softer than a whisper.
you took a deep inhale and closed your eyes. "yes."
you'd hardly gotten the word out before he pressed his lips against yours forcefully, hungrily. his kiss was demanding, like he had been waiting for the longest time to finally get this from you. you tangled your hands in his hair, smirking just a bit. it was soft.
he finally pulled away, keeping close to you. both your faces were flushed deeply, and yours only got worse when you remembered he wasn't wearing a top.
"y/n..." the way your name rolled off his tongue made you shiver. or maybe it was his hand on your back, creeping beneath your shirt.
"hawks-"
"kiego."
your eyes widened as he pressed his lips to your jaw, feathering kisses all the way down towards your neck.
"you... i want you call me kiego."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lil extra <3
rumi showed up just after you had finally started on kiego's hair. as expected, her makeover ended up taking significantly longer, but the three of you didn't mind. by the time you finished curling her gorgeous (but VERY long) hair, it was time for them to go. they both looked spectacular in their dresswear, and you had to struggle to keep your composure helping kiego with his tie. his sly little grin never left his face as you messed with the fabric, trying to remember how, instead of thinking about his lips.
when you had packed up all your stuff and started to get ready to leave, kiego stopped you.
"its already dark out! why don't you just kick back and stay here for a while, yeah? i'll only be gone a few hours. make yourself at home." he had leaned close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck. "besides, we've gotta... talk more, when i get back~"
you agreed quickly, not wanting to seem suspicious in front of rumi. as much as you wanted to tell her, and knew you would soon, you needed to get a few things settled first.
so here you were, sitting in his apartment. even though he was insistent on you making yourself at home, the most you had really done was play some music, use one of his water glasses, and kick back on his couch.
you checked the time again. as far as you could tell, the event had ended just a bit ago. you had checked a few news outlets, seeing some clips already uploaded from the beginning of the evening. almost every one of hawks was him refusing to shut up about the new stylist who had gotten him looking so nice, and furthermore insisting whoever it was, was a secret (for now).
those were your favorites.
in the middle of a clip you were watching of rumi going over her latest fight, you heard keys in the door. you sat up on the couch and watched hawks walk in, a tired smile decorating his face. his jacket was thrown over his arm and his tie was undone, hanging around his neck loosely. the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up his forearms, exposing a few cord bracelets.
"hey, sweetheart." he kept his gaze on yours as he tossed his jacket to the side, along with his tie. he slowly sauntered towards the couch, unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt. "glad you stuck around~"
his tone was flirty, but tired, and it was so attractive.
he settled on the couch almost on top of you, one of his legs between yours as a hand on your chest guided you to lie back.
"hey kiego..." you blushed and smiled as one of his hands found your waist. "how was the dinner?"
he pressed his body against yours, sighing as he relaxed into you. "exhausting... let's talk about it tomorrow."
you chuckled and tangled your hand in his hair, playing with it and massaging his scalp. he pressed lazy kisses to your neck, making you blush harder.
"be my girlfriend... stay over tonight... stay forever..." he said between kisses.
you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, melting into his gentle touch.
"okay.. <3"
DAMN BRO THAT ENDED UP BEING A LOT LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO BE- "little short" YEAH OKAY SHORTY,
5619 words, which is almost 13 full pages in google docs omg-
sorry and you're welcome <33
idk if any of my future writing will be this long but ig we'll see ! at least i can say i'm starting out strong lol
i haven't the foggiest where this idea came from and as of rn i have scarcely any others, so if anybody wants me to write something short or long or whatever to any specific idea my inbox is open for requests !!
sm love 💗💗
#bnha#bnha hawks#my hero academia#my hero fanfic#kiego takami#keigo x reader#hawks x reader#hawks mha#hawks fluff#bnha x reader#takami keigo#x reader#my hero#hawks fic#rumi#mirko#bnha mirko
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IT’S FINALLY HEREEEEEEEE
@badly-drawn-doflamingo asked me for some Corazon x male!reader like a month ago and I SWEAR it was just gonna be a little thing but it got out of control and anyway here it is
————————NC17 minors DNI———————
To Know, To Not Be Known
Summary: You’re a new Ensign at headquarters, fresh from the Academy but not nearly as strong as your fellow Ensigns. Thankfully your kind and very handsome Commander is here to help you train and work on those deep rooted self esteem issues of yours… but only if you muster up the courage to let him in.
Characters: Marine!Donquixote Rocinante, male!reader, Bellemere and Sengoku get cameos because I love them
Pairings: Rocinante x male!reader obivously
Warnings: Graphic violence, minor (original) character death, major character injury, small amounts of homophobia, discussion of trauma especially starvation, sex with an authority figure, oral sex, rimming, minor cum play, anal, Diglett has a size kink so that’s in here too, I think that’s everything but I might have missed something pls let me know
Word Count: 14k hahaha what is wrong with me
———————————————————————
“See ya later, Bellemere!”
You adjusted the collar of your uniform, inspecting it for any stains, and walked out of the dining hall. You waved to your best friend as she bussed her tray and headed the other direction. It would have been nice to have her, you mused, especially today of all days. Frustratingly, you and Bellemere had been put into different squadrons after graduating the academy. There, you’d been attached at the hip, The only two queer (or at least openly queer) infantry in your graduating class.
But now it was a whole new world, and everything was different. Marine Headquarters. Who would have guessed they’d place you here of all places? True, you had a devil fruit and that was interesting, but you’d never worked particularly hard back at the academy. Too busy goofing off with Bellemere and having crushes on boys who invariably turned out to be straight, in all honesty. You’d always done decently despite your slacking off, but never in a thousand years would you have guessed you’d end up at Headquarters. Fucking Headquarters.
Bellemere, on the other hand? That girl deserved it. She was up at 4 every morning to work out before morning workout. She could recite marine history from the end of the void century up until fifteen minutes ago. And her sailing skills? Top notch by anyone’s standards. All while getting more pussy than most of the boys you knew.
When you found out both of you were heading to headquarters together, you’d almost asked if she had pulled some kind of string to bring you along with her. But no—they’d requested you specifically. How the hell could you deserve to be here, with the elites?
Well, you were about to find out. Day one of training with the big boys was about to commence.
As you headed over to the training grounds where your squadron was scheduled to meet—6 AM on the dot—you couldn’t help but be in awe of the men and women around you. A man with hair at least three feet tall was deep in conversation with—holy shit, was that Monkey D. Garp?? And you could have sworn you just walked past a literal giant…This place was going to take some getting used to.
Arriving at your squadron’s assigned training fields—a grassy expanse littered with boulders and submerged in a thick early-morning fog—your heart leaped to realize that everyone else was already there and standing in ranks. Oh shit, were you really late on your first day? Frantically, you glanced at your watch. Nope, still 5:59. Then why…?
“Hey, recruit!”
A truly huge man was staring at you from the field, his coat around his shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, and not just because he was glaring at you with a vengeance. The man was truly… well, gorgeous. Tousled blond hair fell over his forehead, partially obscuring large, lidded red-brown eyes. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his white shirt barely obscuring his well-defined musculature. You could feel your jaw drop a little as you took him in.
Oh shit. You should probably say something back.
“Uhh—y/n l/n, reporting for duty, sir!”
You jogged over and fell into line, saluting the man who was clearly to be your superior officer. He slowly walked in front of you, towering over you as he glared into your eyes.
“And you’re here thirty minutes late because…?”
You flushed. You couldn’t deny, the way his eyes bored into yours was sending lightning bolts through your stomach. “I, um, I was told to be here at 0600 hours, sir!”
“And unlike all the other ensigns, you didn’t get the memo I sent to the barracks last night that I wanted you here at 0530?”
You gulped. You’d actually snuck into Bellemere’s room last night to smoke the weed she’d snuck in and watch old cartoons on her visual Den Den Moshi. And you hadn’t gotten back until almost 1, far too late to receive a message.
“I was asleep, sir!” You blurted out, the lie slipping between your teeth with surprising ease. The man staring down at you raised an eyebrow.
“Asleep, eh?”
Oh, shit. He doesn’t buy any of this, does he? Am I about to get killed on my first day? Yeah, this guy looks like he could kill me…
“Be here on time tomorrow.”
The man turned and walked away without another word, leaving you stunned. Did I… Did I just get away with that?
Facing the line of ensigns, most of whom were barely hiding their snickering at you, the man raised his hand. With a quick glance at you and a—was that a smile?— he snapped his fingers.
The world went silent.
Out of nowhere, the voices of the other ensigns were deadened. The sound of the wind, the grass—holy shit, even your heartbeat—had completely disappeared. The ensigns looked around at one another, baffled and frightened. Suddenly, a voice cut through the dense silence.
“Calm down. It’s my devil fruit.”
You and the other ensigns looked up to see your superior officer watching you, a small smile on his face.
“I’m Commander Donquixote Rocinante. I’ll be leading this squadron. We’ll be working here to start with, but we may be going to sea on missions within the next year or so.
The powers that be want me to tell you that you all are here because you’re elite, the best of the best that the academy has to offer. Personally, I think that’s a load of bullshit. You’ve yet to prove you have anything to offer on the battlefield and you certainly haven’t proven that you know anything about executing Justice.
It’s my job to keep an eye on you, and if I see any shit I don’t like, you’ll be up for reassignment in a heartbeat.” (Oh shit, was he looking at you when he said that?)
“Understood?”
Rocinante snapped his fingers, and with a gentle woosh the sound returned to the world.
“Now, let’s get started. Ensigns, give me 100 push-ups!”
The peaceful morning shattered as over two dozen of the Marines’ finest dropped to their hands and toes, yourself included.
____________________________________
The first three weeks of training passed in a blur. Commander Rocinante pushed your squadron hard, working mostly on hand-to-hand combat skills and marksmanship, Rocinante’s two specialties. Everyone else was obviously in the right place—your compatriots were strong and tough, pushing themselves well past their limits for their commander.
And he paid them back in kind. Commander Rocinante was proving to be a surprisingly charming, supportive superior. He often bought the squadron drinks after a long day of training, and his goofiness and clumsiness off the battlefield put everyone at ease. While fighting, like many of the Marines, he was serious and intense—moving quickly and elegantly and using his power to sow confusion and cripple the enemies’ senses—but as soon as training ended Commander Rocinante was the kindest, most open-hearted (and admittedly the most disaster-prone) leader that anyone could ask for.
Except he appeared to hate you specifically.
You knew why—you were by far the weakest member of your squadron. You worked hard, sure, but you couldn’t quite do as many pushups, run as many miles, dodge as many punches. If you were Commander Rocinante, you would have been annoyed too. Of course you would have. But he was just so—so cold to you.
He greeted the others with nicknames, arms around shoulders, jokes about whatever was in the news. You got a chilly nod; you weren’t even good enough for him to call you by your name. After training he was quick to call out the other ensigns for their hard work and improving skills with swords or martial arts. You got a criticism or you got nothing at all. Other ensigns ragged on the commander for his famous clumsiness and he laughed right along with them. You cracked one joke when he tripped on a rug and got nothing more than a dead-faced scowl.
It wasn’t like you didn’t get it. But still, it hurt like hell to be the only one who didn’t have some inside joke with him, the only one who he didn’t personally invite to sit with the squadron at meals, the only one who was this weak and useless and—
“Ensign! Keep your head up!”
At the sound of Commander Rocinante’s voice, you shook yourself out of your thoughts with just enough time to dodge a kick aimed at your left ear. Henri, one of your fellow ensigns, cursed as he barely missed you. “That won’t happen again, y/n!”
You swallowed and tried to clear your head. Maybe this was why you were always fucking up during training—couldn’t stay focused to save your life.
You returned Henri’s kick with a right hook, but he ducked before you could hit him. Losing your balance, you were left wide-open, and Henri used the opportunity to strike at you with his short sword. The tip of it brushed your skin as you leaped back with a shout.
“Come on, Ensign!” Commander Rocinante shouted from the sidelines. “Block him! Don’t just dance around like an idiot!”
Your stomach twisting at his insult, you unsheathed your own sword. What the fuck is his problem? Why can’t he cut me a break? With (frankly uncharacteristic) aplomb, you swung hard from overhead. Henri reached up to block, but your strike still had enough force to knock him back several feet.
“Yes!” It was your first solid hit of the fight, and the cheer came out before you even realized it. You glanced nervously back at Commander Rocinante, eager for his approval. Sure enough, the blond man’s lips were curled ever so slightly upward into a smile.
You grinned despite yourself. Finally, you were doing something right. Maybe now you’d feel his hand on your shoulder at the end of training today, instead of watching it touch someone else’s. Now all you had to do was—
“OOF!”
You grunted and stumbled back again as Henri swung back, the flat of his sword hitting you hard in the face. Tripping backward with the force of the hit, you felt your legs collide with something very solid—one of the large rocks that littered the training field. You lost your balance and fell onto the rock hard…
And your sword flew from your grip.
The next part happened in slow motion. You watched, upside down on the boulder, as your sword careened through the air, spinning as it did so. You watched its trajectory as it pointed downward and finally landed…hard…directly in someone’s foot.
Your face turned green when you looked up to see that the foot belonged to none other than Fleet Admiral Sengoku.
“Da-I mean, Fleet Admiral! Are you alright?” Rocinante was there in a second, helping Sengoku over to a rock to sit down. What the hell is he even doing here, anyway?
You were close to being sick with fear when Sengoku took a look down at his foot—and started laughing.
“There’s always one, isn’t there, Commander?”
“Fleet Admiral, we need to get you to the sick bay right now,” Rocinante said frantically, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull in panic as he stared at Sengoku’s wound. “Ensigns Aleppo, Kingston. Help the Fleet Admiral there immediately.”
The ensigns, a short girl with bright green eyes and a barrel-chested young man with a thick beard, obeyed quickly. As they positioned themselves underneath each of Sengoku’s massive arms, your commander turned his attention to you. With the most withering glare you’d ever seen from him, the huge man all but snarled—
“Ensign y/n. Be in my office in five minutes. Understood?”
Swallowing, you nodded. In the distance, you could hear Sengoku laughing as he was helped away.
“I remember when it was you, Rocinante! I remember when that was you!”
————————————-
Tick
Tock.
Tick
Tock.
The silence—broken only by the sound of the clock on Rocinante’s wall—was palpable, so thick you could almost see it hanging in the air. Rocinante stared down at you from the other side of his desk, head resting against tented fingers, his expression unreadable. You could feel the sweat beginning to form on the back of your neck.
Finally, you could take it no longer. “Commander, I am so, so, so sorry—“
“Silent.”
Your voice cut off suddenly. You hadn’t known Rocinante could do that—just shut off your sound like you were some kind of Den Den Moshi.
He stared at you in silence for several excruciating moments, watching you squirm in your seat. Finally, the blond’s lips parted.
“Ensign y/n… What the hell is going on with you?”
You blinked. Not what you’d expected him to say.
“They send you to me and tell me you’re one of the most promising ensigns we’ve ever had. Put me in charge of training you because for some reason they think I’m the man for the job. And this is the kind of shit you pull?”
You visibly gulped, still muted from Rocinante’s silent. What the hell was he talking about, ‘promising’?
“I’ve trained ensigns like you before, ones the Academy calls its best and brightest. They’re always cocky, arrogant little shits who put themselves before their missions and the people they’re pledged to protect. But you…” he leaned across the table, pressing his folded hands to his lips. “You’re clearly smart, strategic, yet you can’t fight to save your life. I can’t figure you out.”
Your face flushed. Him, spending his time thinking about you. The image of him lying on his bed, thoughts full of you, his hand perhaps unzipping his white jeans and —fuck, stop it y/n. Stop wanting stupid shit you can’t have.
You opened your mouth to respond, and mentally kicked yourself when you remembered that you were still muted.
“Oh!” Rocinante laughed suddenly. “Sorry about that.” With a sheepish grin (goofy and endearing despite the tenseness of the situation) he snapped his fingers. “Go ahead and speak freely, Ensign.”
You sighed. You’d felt your frustration building since the beginning of your conversation, and finally it began to spill over.
“First of all, rude putting me on mute like that.”
Rocinante looked away, traces of a smile still present on his face. “Sorry about that.”
“Second of all, what the hell do you mean calling me the best and brightest? I was like, a C student at best at the Academy. I have no idea why they sent me to headquarters of all places.”
Rocinante blinked, his expression shifting into one of surprise. “Did they… did they not tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
Rocinante bit his lip, as though trying to decide something. Finally, he appeared to come to an answer.
“Ensign, you scored higher on the intelligence test than anyone has in the last three years.”
Your mouth dropped as he fixed you with that intense stare.
“I’m sorry, what??”
“Problem solving, pattern recognition, navigation, strategic planning… you scored almost perfectly in all of them. People don’t just get that kind of result unless they really are something special.”
“I…” your mouth opened and shut dumbly, like a fish.
Rocinante waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t care about any of that one way or another as long as you show your worth in my squadron. Your fighting skills right now aren’t up to par, and you know it.”
Your eyes were beginning to feel hot, and you detested yourself for having such a childish response to all that was going on. Fucking hell, you were supposed to be a Marine.
“Commander—I can be better.”
“You will be. Get to the training grounds an hour early starting tomorrow.” He scowled and looked away, gritting his teeth for a moment. “I’ll be—uh—training with you privately in the mornings from now on.”
You felt yourself flush from head to toe. Private training with Rocinante? Every fucking day? You tried to ignore the image filling your head of your tall commander bending you face down over one of those boulders, filling you up with his surely massive cock, his hand tangled hard into your hair. Calm down, y/n, Jesus. The guy fucking hates you anyway.
You swallow, returning your attention to the man in front of you.
“Yes, Commander.”
“Good,” Rocinante said curtly. “Go get lunch. I’ll see you at our afternoon duty.”
You stood up, stumbling a little, unable to believe everything that had just happened. You hadn’t even gotten in trouble.
“Oh, and Ensign y/n?”
You turned back to look at him. “Y-yeah?”
“Those tests weren’t wrong. The-“ he bit his lip—“the intelligence ones I mean. Just because you’re not fighting yet doesn’t mean you’re doing poorly. Even the other ensigns can see it.”
It was all you could do to make it out the door.
Leaving your Commander’s office, your mind was filled to the brim with thoughts about him. The way he’d laughed kindly one minute—rich and melodic, like water filling a stone bowl—glared at you the next. His claims about your intellect; his judgement of your failures. Why couldn’t you get a read on him? God, why did that only make you want him more?
Sitting on Bellemere’s bed that night, you were even less sure.
“So he really didn’t even reprimand you for stabbing the Fleet Admiral? And you’re still convinced this guy hates you?”
“You don’t know what he’s like, Belle-chan!”
“I’ve heard stories about him. Everyone has. He’s supposed to be a pretty good guy. Didn’t he, like, get his promotion to commander because he helped smuggle a whole town’s worth of people off an island that was being destroyed or something?”
“And then he fought to grant them asylum and Marine protection, yeah. I’ve heard the story too.” You pursed your lips, looking down. “What I mean is, you haven’t seen what he’s like around me.”
Bellemere chuckled. “Ah. Yeah, fair.”
A moment of silence—silent like Rocinante silent like that impenetrable bubble around his office silent like his footsteps on the training field silent like his—passed before she spoke again.
“You like this guy, don’t you?”
Your pulse quickened. “What the hell are you even talking about?” You snapped, more aggressively than you intended.
Bellemere bursts out laughing. “That’s exactly what I thought.
“Look, y/n. The way I see it, you have a golden opportunity here. Personal training, every day, from a guy like Rocinante? I’d kill for that. Work hard. Be a better fighter. Show him he was right to give you the second chance he gave you today. Maybe he’ll respond to that.”
“And maybe he won’t.”
“So who gives a shit?? At the very least you’ll be way stronger than you were before. I thought that’s what you wanted.”
You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Bellemere tilted her chin up playfully, giving you her trademark cocky grin. “I’m always right.” She turned to look at you. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Are you gonna ask me about my crushes like a ten year old at a sleepover again?”
“I’m just wondering if…like, if you’re trying to be stronger… why aren’t you using your devil fruit?”
You frowned immediately, turning away. “You know it’s not safe.”
“Maybe not at the academy. But here there’s people who might be able to help you hone it. Maybe even… Commander Rocinante?” She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly to emphasize his name.
“Look, I just can’t, ok? I already accidentally hurt someone today, I don’t want to do it again.”
Bellemere shrugged. “Alright. Work harder not smarter then. Your funeral.”
You laughed despite yourself at the face she made. “Nothing wrong with doing it the old fashioned way.”
“I guess. But if I had a devil fruit you’d bet your ass I’d be using it.” Stretching, Bellemere put her feet up on her desk. “Anyway, you wanna hear more about this girl on my squadron? We had a drunk makeout session two nights ago and I haven’t even gotten to tell you yet.”
Smiling, you shook the thoughts of Rocinante and devil fruits from your head, at least for now. “Do you care if I open this sake I brought while I listen?”
“Bitch you had sake this whole time?? Give it here!”
——————————————————————
The next morning, despite your slight hangover, you somehow made it to the training grounds fifteen minutes before Commander Rocinante asked you to be there—the ungodly hour of 4:15 in the morning. Between sips from your thermos of coffee, you stretched, twisting your arms above your head, bending from side to side. You were completely bent over into downward dog—Bellemere had gotten you into yoga recently—when you heard the sound of a throat clearing behind you.
Whipping around (and nearly falling on your face as you did so), you see your commander towering over you, an uncomfortable blush on his face, his eyes directly on your… fuck.
“I’m, uh—glad you got here early, Ensign.” Rocinante bit his lip awkwardly, turning away to look anywhere but at you. “Let’s—let’s get started then.” He jogged toward the middle of the training field, making it about three steps before his foot caught on a rock. He went down hard, directly on his face.
Why the hell was he so bumbling and weird all the time? You pondered to yourself as you ran over to help the hulking man to his feet. He shrugged you off immediately as you touched his shoulder, flinching away from your touch. “I’m fine, Ensign. Go grab one of the weapons I brought from the armory.”
There were several different types of weapons for you to choose from, a mercy you were grateful for. Headquarters was so insistent on every Ensign being able to use a sword, but you’d always preferred something smaller, something for closer quarters. Picking up a pair of short-handled broadaxes on a whim, you followed Rocinante out onto the field.
He smiled a bit when he saw your choice. “An axe man, eh? Why didn’t you go for the halberd?”
You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s too big. Too hard to hit someone, I guess.”
“Not that you’ve been doing much of that anyway…” Rocinante chuckled.
“Hey! I hit someone yesterday, didn’t I?” You couldn’t help but grin along with him.
Rocinante laughed out loud. “That’s the most impressive thing you’ve done since you’ve gotten here. Sengoku is fine, by the way—you barely scratched him.”
“So he’s not gonna discharge me or anything then?”
“Nah. To be honest, we’ve seen recruits do worse than that.” Rocinante unsheathed his broadsword, examining it habitually for sharpness and cleanliness. “If you’re gonna fight with a weapon you like, I’ll fight with my favorite weapon too.” He set the sword down on the grass beside him, then cracked his knuckles.
Your stomach dropped. It was well-known that Rocinante was almost as deadly a martial artist as he was a sharpshooter. Crouching nervously, you balanced your weight and prepared to fight.
Rocinante struck first, a hard roundhouse kick aimed at the left ear. You just barely managed to duck, his black loafer skimming the top of your head. You swung one of your axes at his stomach (considering Rocinante’s height, this was about as high as you could reach) but Rocinante grabbed it, twisting it hard and throwing you off balance.
You hit the ground with a thud. One of your commander’s massive shoes rested on your chest, pinning you. Already??
“Get back up. Let’s go again.” He offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet. His hand was broad and very rough—years of fighting and sailing mapped in calluses across his fingers and palm—and you suppressed a shiver as you noticed how small yours was in his.
“Fighting stance, Ensign.” Rocinante prepared himself to battle you again. Shaking off your momentary reverie, you picked up your axe.
Here we go.
The first week’s training was full of many, many losses for you. The axes were definitely an improvement to the short sword, but not enough of one to make any real difference against an opponent like Rocinante. It amazed you how agile he was, how he attacked fluidly from all sides, how he dodged your blows so effortlessly.
How he tripped and fell flat on his face the second he was no longer in attack mode.
Hard to figure out, that man.
It went on like that, day after day of waking up at the crack of dawn, heading to the training fields to invariably get your ass kicked. But oddly, you didn’t mind. Rocinante was beginning to get more and more friendly toward you, letting that indecipherable guard of his down bit by bit as the days blended into weeks. Once he even cracked one of his terrible dad jokes about an admittedly unfortunate pair of shoes you’d chosen to wear—and you laughed despite yourself. Even if you weren’t getting any better, at least you were finally forming some sort of connection with your commander outside of the suffocating tension you were used to.
It was nearly a month into your personal training sessions that you finally had your breakthrough.
Rocinante was challenging you today. Keeping his distance, always slightly out of your range. At first it had been smooth and elegant, but at this point he was basically just teasing you—sticking his tongue out at you, taunting your attacks, giving you a hard time. You were finally starting to see that goofy side of him that everyone else loved, but you were so frustrated that you couldn’t enjoy yourself. You’d been getting faster. Why couldn’t you hit him even once?
“Ensign, think,” Rocinante advised you, continuing to duck and dodge around your attacks. “Find a way to hit me from a distance.”
Oh god. He wanted you to…
“I, uh, I don’t throw things. Like ever.”
“Bet you’ll be wishing you did when you’re dead on a battlefield.” Rocinante remarked. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”
“I said no, ok?”
“Fine,” said Rocinante with a somewhat childish smirk. “Then we’ll resume training as soon as you’re willing to do that for me.” And with that, he straightened up and walked over to a nearby boulder where he proceeded to sit there, staring at you, head in his hands. Fucking asshole.
With a sigh, you dropped your weapons to your sides. “Look, Commander, I… do you not know about my devil fruit?”
Rocinante blinked. “Your what now?”
“It, uh… should’ve been in my file.”
“Trust me, I read that thing cover to cover. The Academy must’ve forgotten to mention it, especially if you don’t use it very often.”
He read my file cover to cover he read it cover to cover “I, uh… I never use it, actually.”
Rocinante gestured to the boulder beside him Holy shit he wants me to sit next to him what if he puts his arm around me I will die I will truly die and you came over, dropping down beside him with none of the grace you were hoping for.
“So what’s the fruit then?” Rocinante asks, his tone not unkind.
“It’s called the Pitch-Pitch fruit, sir.”
“So I imagine it has something to do with throwing?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Wanna show it to me?”
“No, not at all.”
“Y/n…”
You turned to look at him, your mouth dropping open. He’d never called you by your name before, not without “Ensign” in front of it.
“I was terrified of my devil fruit when I got it. I was just a kid, and at first I hated the silence. When there’s no noise, your brain kinda fills in the blanks with whatever sounds you’re most afraid of. It was horrible for a long time.”
He’d never spoken to you so candidly before. Hell, you weren’t sure if you’d ever heard him speak to anyone so candidly before. While the commander was friendly and kind to all, you had to admit that you couldn’t recall a single time he’d ever spoken about his own past. Why to you?
“But my da—I mean, Fleet Admiral Sengoku—helped me turn my power into something good for me.” He chuckled and looked up, reminiscing. “I was almost a worse fighter than you are back then. Used to be as clumsy and awkward on the battlefield as I am off of it. He showed me how to use my fruit in combination with observational haki to give me a huge advantage.
“Now when I use my power, I can feel things with that haki to ‘hear’ all the things you miss out on when there’s sound. Everything from the energy of my enemies to the energy of a beetle digging a den five hundred feet away. I was so afraid of using silent for so long, but it turned out to be the thing that made me into a powerful fighter.”
You sat wordlessly for a moment, watching the towering man be more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. It was strange. But…nice.
Finally, you spoke. “So what you’re saying is, if I have this power…”
Rocinante nodded. “You should use it.”
You swallowed hard, then rose to your feet. “Alright.” Picking up one of your axes, you added, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Taking a deep breath, you squeezed your eyes shut. Please, please don’t let me hurt anyone. Lifting your arm, you tossed the axe as gently as you could in the direction of the large hill that stood at the edge of the training grounds.
With the whooshing boom of the sound barrier breaking, the axe flew from your hand so fast that it was completely invisible. A moment later, a rumble and a huge crash echoed from the hill as the axe flew cleanly through it and out the other side.
You turned, cringing, back to Rocinante. “So anyway, that’s the Pitch Pitch fruit…”
Your commander’s jaw was nearly on the floor, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Y-y/n… you’ve been able to do that this whole time??”
“Like I said, it’s really dangerous…”
“Yeah, you throw an axe at an enemy like that and you’ll kick their ass, no questions asked! Shit, I kinda wish I could do that…”
“So you think I should keep using it then? Even during training?”
“Hell yes I do! It’s the coolest thing ever!!” Rocinante’s eyes were lit up like a little kid watching a wrestler or a mecha battle on TV. “We’ll have to get you something lighter to throw during training, that should help mitigate some of the damage…but you should be proud you have that ability, Ensign y/n.”
You blushed. For the first time, you actually felt kind of… ok with your power. Rocinante was the first person to tell you it was anything but a nuisance at worst, a death trap at best. Looking at the massive hole through the hill at the other end of the field, you had to admit—maybe the man was onto something.
___________________________________
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Can you believe it, y/n??”
You flinched as Recruit Aleppo squealed into your ear, appearing from somewhere behind you.
“Jesus, Aleppo, I know! First mission, very exciting. Can you maybe not make me go deaf next time?”
“Oh, yeah,” the young woman giggled. “I guess that’s kind of our Commander’s job, isn’t it?”
You said nothing, instead choosing to gaze out onto the endless sea before you. It had been nearly six months since you’d been on a ship—the last time being when you’d arrived at Headquarters—and you’d forgotten how much you loved the smell of salt in the air, the strange quality of the breeze that seemed to carry adventure on its tongue.
“Crete-de-Vague Island is supposed to be super rich and fancy, yknow,” Aleppo was babbling on blithely. “They make the world’s finest furs there! Coats and shawls and purses… ooh, maybe we’ll have time to go shopping!”
You nodded briefly but otherwise ignored your fellow recruit. You were too busy reflecting on your conversation with Rocinante from that morning.
“I don’t think I’m ready for this,” you’d said as he helped you load weapons and supplies onto the boat.
“Trust me, y/n,” Rocinante had grunted, lifting a box onto his shoulder, “I wouldn’t be taking you along if I didn’t think you were ready for this.”
“This just seems like a big step, y’know? We haven’t been training for that long…”
Setting down the box in the cargo bay, Rocinante walked toward you. What he did next had nearly made you swoon.
Slowly, he’d knelt in front of you, bending his knees until his eyes had aligned with yours god the shades of red in those eyes… And then he had smiled—that big cheesy grin of his that he’d only very recently started sharing with you. Throwing up a peace sign, he had loudly proclaimed—
“I believe in you, y/n!”
The high was more than enough to carry you through the morning’s tedious preparations to set sail.
So he trusted you enough to send you on a mission, then. Finally, after so much time, you were beginning to break through into him, be a person Rocinante could put his faith in.
You wouldn’t let him down.
It took you all of five days of sailing to reach Crete-de-Vague, where you’d been asked to clear out some pirates who had taken over and started stealing those famous furs. A straightforward enough mission, it would seem.
In between training sessions and briefings on the pirates you were preparing to fight, the squadron’s attitude was lively. There was no small amount of alcohol consumed in the evenings, with your commander often at the center of the festivities.
He really was a wonder to watch, that man, the way he made every person on your squadron feel valued and seen and heard. As ridiculous as he could often be—tripping over his own feet, cracking terrible one liners—every single one of you looked up to and adored him.
One night after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself on the deck, a little drunk, looking out again onto the black and eternal sea that had captured your attention so thoroughly in recent days You were so captivated by the soft rise and fall of the waves that you hardly noticed the gentle footsteps approaching you.
When Rocinante leaned against the half-wall next to you, you jumped. “Jesus, Commander, warn a guy next time!”
That sheepish grin of his again, and he spoke, words imperceptibly slurred. “M’bad.” So he was a bit drunk as well, but then you weren’t particularly surprised. There’d been a lot of sake floating around tonight, and you’d watched him go head to head with Recruit Keiryo to see who could drink more (the commander had won, of course, being twice the size of both Keiryo and everyone else on the squadron).
“Yer not seasick, are you? First time I sailed more’n a few days, I was in the sick bay more than I was out of it,” Rocinante chuckled as he lit a cigarette, his eyes on the sea.
“Oh, uh…nah, I’m good. I have a pretty strong stomach. Didn’t have a lot of food as a kid, had to eat what we could find. It sucked at the time, but now I never get sick,” you commented thoughtlessly.
You regretted the words as soon as they’d left your mouth. Not even Bellemere knew the extent of what you’d been through before joining the Navy. The pirate boss who’d controlled everything leaving and entering your island, the droughts that had left your family’s little patch of farmland barren as bones, the way you and your mother had had to pick pirates’ pockets just to feed yourselves and your baby sister—oh god don’t think about her don’t think about your baby sister—the way you’d eaten your devil fruit because it was the only food you could find. No one here was ever supposed to know any of that.
But Rocinante turned to look at you, an expression you’d never seen before on his face. “So… y’know what it’s like to be hungry too. Figures. I knew there was a reason we got along.”
Your face was burning, heart beating fast. How the hell did this man keep burrowing his way into the bottom of you, pulling out the truths you were most scared of admitting and holding them up to the light to watch the beams shine clean through them? First the stuff about the intelligence test at the academy, then your fruit, now the stuff that woke you up in cold sweats at night. This strange need for me to know him, this stranger need for him to never know me…
“M’brother and me spent around two years havin’ to dig through the garbage for food.” Rocinante said abruptly. When you didn’t respond, his face turned pink. “Just, like… somethin’ you and I have in common, I guess.”
Eager to turn the conversation away from yourself, you replied. “I didn’t know you even had a brother. He in the Marines?”
Rocinante laughed out loud, partially from relief that he hadn’t offended you. “No. My brother… I don’t think he’d be caught dead in the Marines. But we haven’t talked in a long time, so… who knows, I guess?”
“Why don’t you talk?” You ask, somewhat distractedly. You’d just noticed how close the commander was standing to you. You could almost feel the energy sparking from his arm that rested mere inches from yours.
“Oh, y’know. He’s a terrible person.” Rocinante shrugged and looked away from you again, his face now bright red. It was clear that was the only explanation you’d be getting. “What about your family? You close to them?”
As he spoke, the commander gently rested his big, callused hand over yours.
Why were the two of you sitting here, having this conversation that it was clear neither of you wanted to have? Why couldn’t you just walk away? You could feel the irritation rising in you. After all this time, now he was trying to be close to you, now he wanted to be your friend, now he wanted to do…whatever the fuck he was doing touching you like this, like you’d desperately wanted, like you were furious to admit you enjoyed in this moment.
“Look, Commander. It’s frankly none of your fucking business, ok?” You yanked your hand out from underneath his large one and turned away, walking quickly back toward the barracks. “‘M going to bed.”
“Hey, Ensign?”
Great. Pulling the rank card on you.
“What?” You all but spat at him, wheeling around. The look on his face almost melted you. Soft, slightly disappointed but much more full of a strange sorrow you couldn’t quite place. Later you would realize it was sympathy.
“Whatever happened to you… I’m sorry.” He said, so softly it was almost a whisper. You felt your eyes welling up as you turned away and stormed back to the barracks.
You took one of Ensign Henri’s sleeping pills (idiot, just leaving them out like that) when you got back, stripping down and getting into bed in record time. Thoughts pounded through your head as you waited for the drug to hit you, desperate for the release of sleep. Why do I want him so bad? Why is he so insistent on knowing me? Why do I care? Why do I want him? Why do I want him? Why do I want him?
The last thought that you remembered before the haze of pill-induced sleep took you over echoed through your head like a ghost in a very old house.
What am I so afraid of?
—————————————————————
Aleppo hadn’t been wrong. Crete-de-Vague was beautiful.
As you hopped off your ship and walked into port, you couldn’t take your eyes off the town that rose above you, built into the hillside. Flowering trees grew everywhere, sending bright red petals and an aroma reminiscent of persimmon scattering onto the breeze. Huge Tudor-style houses, packed closely together by the necessity of city living, lined the steep cobblestone streets.
But the dock was nearly empty when you’d arrived. Strangely silent for a port. No workers to help with your cargo, no other ships to give you a sense of who was present in the city.
Well, except for one.
A massive barquentine ship, built from dark mahogany, floated hulking and foreboding in the dock beside yours. The sails were a deep shade of black, and the flag flapping above the crows nest was unmistakably a Jolly Roger.
The tension was blanketlike over the squadron as you all followed Rocinante past the docks and up the hill toward the center of town (minus Rhys and Hidalgo, who were guarding the ship and keeping the cannons manned). No one said anything about the other boat.
“Don’t forget, ensigns—they probably already know we’re here,” Rocinante was warning you as you approached the first buildings. “When pirates take over an island like this, they usually put eyes everywhere. Be ready to fight at a second’s notice.”
The buildings that had looked so glamorous from the port were beginning to bely evidence of a struggle as you got closer. Smashed windows, boarded up doors, smoldering cannonballs embedded in walls. It was clear that whatever was happening here had been hard on the citizens of Crete-de-Vague.
You could feel nausea setting in as you got deeper and deeper into the city. Not out of fear at what you were about to do—Rocinante’s proclaimed belief in you had seemed to get rid of that, even if you were a bit irritated with him at the moment. No, these houses with their busted support beams and rubble on the doorstep were burying themselves uncomfortably inside your memories of childhood. The way you and your friends had played on top of rubble from a statue blown to bits. The way you’d had to bolt if the pirates were around and hope to god some neighbor was kind enough to let you in. The way they’d broken down your door in the middle of the night and taken the last of your dead father’s pension and hurt your mother and oh god your baby sister
You were starting to feel dizzy on your feet, the edges of your vision beginning to blacken. Just as you were sure you were about to collapse, a massive hand rested on your shoulder.
“You’ll be all right, Ensign. Breathe.”
And while you shoved his hand off your shoulder
asshole trying to act like he knows my business
and walked ahead of him, you did breathe. And it helped.
As you approached a flat expanse between the buildings toward the top of the hill—ostensibly the square, although it had seen much better days—Rocinante used his baby Den Den Moshi to radio in to Sengoku, his commanding officer (you weren’t even going to pretend like you knew how that worked). “Yeah, we’re here. You said the mayor was supposed to meet us?”
Sengoku’s voice, crackling over the receiver and out of the snail’s mouth. “That was the plan, in the town square. How’s the damage to the city?”
“Looks pretty bad. There’s no people around either.”
“Yes, the person who reported the pirates said that folks there were afraid to leave their houses. I’m surprised the mayor isn’t there yet, though.”
“Yeah, we haven’t s—“
A dull thud, like a bag of sand, broke the silence of the empty square, echoing just behind you and the other recruits. Rocinante stopped speaking immediately, silencing his Den Den Moshi with a click and putting it into his pocket.
Slowly, you all turned around.
There, on the ground, in a position like a broken marionette, laid an older man—or at least the body of one. Blood drenched his white shirt and tie. Getting closer, it was easy to see that his throat had been cut—or rather, ripped open. An expression of pleading terror was frozen on his creased face.
The squadron was painfully, excruciatingly silent.
Then a high pitched voice from somewhere above you broke the taut quiet—“Don’t worry, the mayor made it on time after all! Didn’t he, boys?”
At least thirty additional voices shouted out cheers from somewhere on the rooftops.
You could feel the pall as every marine’s stomach dropped out at the same time.
Rocinante, however, seemed to have no such fear. His eyes were glowing with a breed of fury you didn’t know was possible from the normally easygoing man. He was staring at a nearby chimney with intensity—his haki must have clued him in to where the first voice was coming from.
“Squadron, prepare to engage.” He spoke, gritting his teeth, never taking his eyes off the chimney. Obeying your commander, the ensigns took fighting stances and drew weapons. You pulled two axes from your belt (you’d been carrying six at a time since you’d started using your devil fruit more) and got ready. This was what you’d been training for. This was your chance to show what you were truly capable of.
“Let ‘em have it, boys!” The voice behind the chimney roared. Stepping out from his hiding spot, you caught a glimpse of the man who’d been terrorizing Crete-de-Vague all this time. Skin so pale it was almost translucent. Long black hair twisted into a hundred tiny braids. Wiry build, sharp jaw, heavy shadows surrounding his protruding collarbone and shoulders.
Torrez Diego.
He almost would’ve been hot if he weren’t so scary.
But your chances to ruminate on your enemy’s fuckability were cut short as close to forty pirates poured down from the rooftops into the square, cutlasses drawn, guns at the ready. You watched a muscular middle aged woman with a mole on her chin fling herself at Henri, laughing as he frantically blocked her attacks. Rocinante was fighting two men at once, dancing between their kicks and blows (and quite frankly kicking their asses). Kingston ducked and barely avoided having his head shot off with a…holy shit, a fucking bazooka. These guys weren’t fucking around.
But you knew your directive. You stayed still and watched Diego closely. He was dodging the occasional shot from Ensign Parvati, your squadron’s best sharpshooter, which she was barely managing to fire in between rounds of grappling with a massive, rotund man who seemed to be excellent at throwing his weight around. You waited.
And when Torrez Diego suddenly smiled and raised his left hand, you grabbed your axe tightly and bent your legs, preparing.
When he shouted, “Seam tear!” You flung it as hard as you could.
Two things happened at once, as if in slow motion. First, your axe shot at impossibly breakneck speeds through the air toward Diego, booming through the sound barrier as it prepared to knock him through the next three buildings. Second, Diego’s devil fruit power—his seam tear— began to take effect. With the sound of a thousand pieces of paper tearing at once, a massive rip began at Diego’s outstretched hand. It traveled down the building he was atop and into the square, splitting the ground itself beneath your feet. The ensigns dove into chaos, leaping out of the way of the massive chasm that formed within seconds; the Torrez pirates simply laughed as they took cover on either side of it.
Meanwhile, your axe flew and flew through the air.
And missed.
Diego felt the axe whiz by his right ear and turned back, watching as it flew through three buildings before finally embedding itself in a steel wall.
A miss, after all this fucking practice, a miss. What the fuck is wrong with me?
And his attention turned to you.
“Well look at that! It’s not often you see an ensign who’s a devil fruit user!” Diego grinned, showing long yellowing teeth. Never mind about the hot stuff… “Why don’t you take me one on one, and we’ll see whose fruit is better, eh?” With a chuckle, he climbed off the roof of the building in a single jump and began walking toward you.
You weren’t a hand-to-hand fighter. Sure, you could hold your own with the axes, but not against someone like this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…
“Y/n!”
Rocinante grabbed your hand out of nowhere, pulling you along with him. With a surprisingly graceful leap forward, he tapped Diego quickly on the shoulder.
“Silent!”
You watched the now familiar blue shimmer of energy as it enveloped Diego, leaving him completely deaf and mute. His face paled as he touched his ears frantically, his eyes widening in shock.
It gave you just enough time for Rocinante to pull you into a side street. The two of you hurtled down it as Diego shook his head, finally coming to his senses, and began to pursue you.
You could feel the man’s presence behind you, sense his haki—something you were slowly learning how to do—but you were unable to hear his footsteps, his breathing, his furious jeers. The effect was jarring as you and your commander plunged deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine side streets of Crete-de-Vague.
“Commander, I let you down. I’m so sorry.” You managed as the two of you ran, Rocinante pulling you in what felt like random directions. Was he trying to throw Diego off?
“Don’t worry about it, Ensign. Happens to everyone. It just means we have to—he grunted as he yanked you hard to the right and up a small flight of stairs—“rethink our battle strategy a bit is all.”
“What about the others?”
“Y/n, our squadron is tough as nails. I have no doubts they’ll beat those pi—shit.”
A dead ended alley.
Desperately, you and Rocinante glanced around for doors, for something you could climb on to get over the wall, for anything.
There was nothing.
You could both feel Diego’s haki, getting closer and closer to you, and the man surely had only blood on his mind.
You were fucked, if neither of you could…. Wait.
Stupid.
You chided yourself mentally as you flung an axe at the wall before you. A terrific boom, and the two of you suddenly had an instant pathway right through the building and out the other side! …Even if it was a bit covered in rubble.
Rocinante laughed out loud. “Wow, very impressive, Ensign!”
You couldn’t help but grin back at him as the two of you continued forward. But as you looked behind you, your stomach dropped.
You had lost too much time on the wall, and Torrez was right on your back. Reaching for you, his lips curling to form the words. Seam tear.
A rip shot out from the man’s fingers, aimed directly at your commander.
“Rocinante!” You shouted, trying to alert him. Your commander turned back, and as if in slow motion he
Saw Diego.
Saw the rip.
Dodged it.
Tripped.
Coming in with the worst possible timing in human history, midway through his dodge to the left Rocinante’s foot hit a loose cobblestone. It sent him flying to the right somehow, too far, and you watched in sickened horror as Diego’s rip hit Rocinante hard and climbed up his inner leg, a spray of blood accompanying it.
“Commander!” You could barely even recognize your voice as your own as Rocinante went down, hard, his head slapping the pavement. You were at his side in a second, squeezing his hand (god why were you squeezing his hand after everything) as Rocinante groaned, tried to stand up, fell.
Diego was grinning at you, baring his long yellow teeth like fangs. He spoke, but no sound came out—but you didn’t need to hear him to know he was telling you all the gruesome ways he was going to kill you. If he would just let his guard down, you could throw an axe, but his attention was laser focused on you and your (bleeding semiconscious really very badly injured) commander.
And you remembered something you’d learned about the man in your briefing. He was known to be a sucker for flattery.
Thank god you’d actually paid attention.
“Commander, I know you’re hurt, but can you turn off his silent? Trust me.”
A snap of his fingers—he must have been just aware enough to hear you—and Diego’s voice boomed into focus.
“—plenty of things my crew can think of to do to little queers like you, and—“
“Jesus, you almost killed him! That’s a marine Commander! How did you do that?” You interrupted, looking up at him, cringing at your own bad acting and hoping to hell you weren’t being too obvious.
Torrez Diego paused for a moment, looking down on you appraisingly. Then he smiled.
“I’m the strongest pirate this half of the sea, kid. Bounty of 35 million, in case they didn’t mention it at pansy navy boy school. I’ve killed men twice as strong as your Commander here.”
You leaned forward, eyes wide. “You’ve killed others?”
“You’d better believe it. In pretty fucked up ways too, just ask my crew.”
“Would you, um…” you blinked innocently, pushing your ass out just slightly. Might as well play the game if you were gonna play the game. “Would you tell me about some of them?”
Diego grinned, clearly checking you out a bit in your new position. Wow. This guy was a fucking moron.
“You wanna hear about the time I keel-hauled a woman for cheating on me?”
You nodded, feigning excitement. “Grab that crate and sit down. Tell me everything!”
“Even the little baby marines are impressed by me, the greatest pirate in this corner of Paradise.” He chuckled. And he
Turned
Around.
Idiot.
With lightning speed you grabbed an axe from your hip and flung it hard. The alleyway was too tight quarters for you to miss again, and the weapon hit him right in the back, digging in so deeply that the blade protruded out the other side. With a sickening groan, Diego fell to his knees, touching the axe sticking out of his chest softly. He turned white-faced to look at you, opened his mouth as if to speak… and collapsed.
It only took a moment until the man was still.
“Rocinante!” You all but screamed, turning to your commanding officer on the ground beside you. He was attempting to sit up, his legs splayed out awkwardly in front of him, one of his white pant legs torn and irreparably stained with blood.
“Jesus Christ y/n, you really saved my ass with that one. You ok?”
“You need medical care, Commander,” you spluttered, face turning red at how casually he spoke to you in the face of such a severe injury. “Look, I’ve got my field medic kit and you know it’s one of the few things I’m really good at. Let me take a look at it.”
Rocinante hesitated, then nodded. Indicating the war-torn building to your right, he remarked, “Pretty sure that place is abandoned. Let’s do it there.”
You put one of his massive arms around your shoulder (so close he’s so close), using all your strength to hoist him up enough to make it to the door. Locked. You went to grab an axe, but Rocinante suddenly knocked it off its hinges with a kick from his good leg, leaning on you to keep his balance.
“Jesus dude, you’re fucking injured!”
“I haven’t been any help whatsoever today. Let me do something at least!”
You could feel his grin behind you. Trying to make you laugh, you knew. Keep the mood light so you don’t freak out about the fact that he might be bleeding to death. As annoying as it was, you could feel your stomach warming. Kind, that man.
You lay Rocinante down on a slightly moldy-smelling fur rug, one of the only signs anyone had ever lived here. The rest of the house was empty and covered in dust.
Quickly, you pulled your pack off and grabbed your medic kit, pulling out disinfectant, a roll of gauze, a needle with surgical thread.
“Ok, I—I’m gonna have to take your pants off, Commander.” You blushed deep red as you realized what you were saying. Sparing a peek at Rocinante’s face, his was somehow even redder than yours.
“Oh, I can—“
“No, let me do that part.”
“Fuck, ow, a little slower, y/n.”
“Sorry, sorry…”
Through an extremely awkward working dialogue, you managed to get Rocinante’s pants unbuttoned and slid them down to the floor until he was able to kick them off.
Just looking at his muscular thighs—scarred from what you assumed was years of training and battles—was enough to send blood flowing from your red face to a very different part of your anatomy. And the slight gap between those thighs and the hem of his boxers…
Fucking shit, y/n. Focus.
Swallowing hard (and hoping to hell Rocinante didn’t notice the sudden bulge in your pants), you moved to his right ankle, where the rip started. The injury was surprisingly not as bad as you’d expected it to be—instead of a leg torn in half, what you were looking at was simply a very long, very deep cut traveling up Rocinante’s inner thigh to his…oh fuck, it went nearly to his groin. This was something you could actually handle medically. It would remain to be seen if you could handle it for other reasons.
“Commander, how the hell did you avoid getting your leg completely torn to shreds here?”
“Armament haki. I’ll show you some stuff sometime.” Rocinante sat up to watch you as you examined his wound, supporting himself on his hands.
“That’s cool, Commander. I’d like that,” you said, smiling at him. He’ll be ok, he’s gonna be ok. “Ok, bite your sleeve or something. I’m putting on disinfectant, it’s gonna hurt.”
Rocinante nodded and did as he was told, grunting in pain as you splashed a liberal amount of the stuff up and down his leg, closing your eyes and thinking about anything else when you reached his upper thigh.
“Ok, I’m gonna start sewing you up. No anesthetic, but hold on, ok? Let me take care of you, Commander.”
You were almost embarrassed of the words coming out of your mouth—needy bottom shit—but you couldn’t deny how relieved you were that your friend and commanding officer was ok. And that you got to be the one to help him heal…
“You already saved my life once today, y/n. It’s kind of you that you’re willing to do it again,” Rocinante said with a grimace of pain as you began to stitch him up.
“Yeah, well… you’re kinda my mentor, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Rocinante grinned. “You think of me as your mentor??? Y/n… that’s so sweet!”
Your heart stuttered at his warm response, emotions swirling in your brain, unable to decide if you liked this or didn’t like this.
Rocinante continued. “After that fight we had the other night, I wasn’t sure you even liked me.”
“I like you. I just don’t like people bothering me about my past. I’m trying to move on, ok?”
Rocinante was quiet for a long moment, only the nauseating sounds of needle through flesh sounding in the room.
Finally, he spoke. “I know it doesn’t feel like talking about it will help. But I promise you it does.”
“What would you know about it? Other than you and your brother dumpster diving for a few years or whatever.”
Rocinante’s face was serious. “My entire family were treated as pariahs. My mother died because people wouldn’t give us medical treatment. We got attacked by both children and adults almost every day. Sometimes they’d sic dogs on us. Once they even tried to burn our whole family at the stake. And then in the end, my brother murdered my father in front of me.”
Your jaw dropped, and you stopped stitching, looking up at your commander with your mouth agape.
Rocinante suddenly smiled. “Wow, it feels so much better to talk about it! Ok, now you.”
“W-what??”
“Now you tell me yours!”
You spluttered. “It doesn’t work like that! What the fuck do you mean your brother killed your father??”
Rocinante smiled. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
You’re glared at him. “Not gonna happen. Now hold still so I can finish.” You had almost reached your commander’s groin, and while your hands were sweaty and your heart was racing, you weren’t about to quit with his wound half stitched (even if he was annoying the hell out of you right now).
In silence, you finished stitching your commander’s wound (your hand brushing excruciatingly, temptingly close to his cock as you did so) and bandaged his whole leg, neither of you speaking.
Finally, Rocinante broke the quiet. “Whatever it is, I’m really proud of you for becoming the man you are today despite it, y/n.”
You look up at him, the compliment kinder than anything you’d heard since your mother passed.
“…I’m checking your eyes for a concussion, dipshit.”
Wordlessly, you straddle him and push up onto your knees, pulling his head down to look into the taller man’s eyes. You can smell him—a mixture of blood, good tobacco, and better cologne—and you’re aware of the intimacy of the position. If you lowered yourself, you’d be sitting on his…
Don’t think about that now.
Think about the disarming reddish brown hue of his eyes. Think about the beads of sweat on his temple. Think about his hair, his golden hair that must be so soft to touch… think about…
“You’re an incredible marine, y/n,” Rocinante murmured. “An incredible friend. And a—“ he hesitated, but did not break the eye contact— “a really beautiful man.”
Your breath caught in your throat. Rocinante never looked away from you, but his hand gently touched your knee.
Don’t do it. No matter how much you want it. Don’t do it. Don’t let him in. Don’t.
Don’t.
Your lips crashed into Rocinante’s with a vengeance, your hands tangling up into that yes I was right it’s so soft golden hair, and he grabbed you and tugged you against him, moaning against your mouth as you clung to him.
“Y/n…” Rocinante gasped, his hands sliding up and down your body, under your white marine shirt to caress the newly developing musculature of your chest—all that training had been kind to you—and you should care you should stop him but you didn’t, you couldn’t, your tongue was in his mouth, your fingers were plucking at the buttons of his shirt, Rocinante, Rocinante….
“Wanted you like this for so long, y/n…” Rocinante was panting as he broke off the kiss to breathe into your ear. “I know it’s wrong, I know you’re my subordinate, but fuck, y/n… every single fucking day during training, every single fucking night when I couldn’t sleep… you’ve been stuck in my thoughts like one of your fucking axes sticking into a target…”
Raising your eyebrows, you glanced out the window at the axe sticking into (and through) Torrez Diego. Rocinante followed your eye and laughed embarrassedly.
“Ok, maybe not the best metaphor.”
“Commander, please don’t talk. Please just… take me,” you said softly. Your shirts were both off now, and you were caressing the stunning, well defined muscles of his abs and chest, your cock achingly hard in your pants. Scars—cuts, burns, long ropy deep ones of uncertain origin—littered the broad expanse of his torso, matching the ones on his legs. So he hadn’t been lying about his childhood.
As you pulled yourself closer to him, gazing up into his eyes, feeling his (holy shit it’s massive) hardening cock pressing against your ass, you couldn’t help but ask. “I didn’t even think you were into men. In fact, I’ve seen you on dates with women before.”
Rocinante shrugged, his hands sliding up and down your body, fingertips sending lightning bolts into your groin. “Gender is made up anyway. Anyone can be hot, don’t you think?”
“Eh. I’ll leave the women to you.”
Rocinante chuckled. “That means this man gets to be all mine.” With that he grabbed your ass hard with both hands, yanking you so close to him that you could feel his heartbeat reverberating through your chest.
“Fuck, Commanderrrrrr…” you groaned as he squeezed and caressed your ass, every motion sending a drop of precum leaking from your achingly hard cock, staining your standard issue uniform.
“Don’t call me that, don’t call me Commander,” he murmured roughly. “Call me Roci, y/n.”
Roci? You’d never heard anyone but his very closest friends call him that. You tried it out slowly. “Roci…”
His smile was like none you’d ever seen before from him, and it sent chills of want shimmering through you from head to toe.
“Fuck me, Roci!” You finally managed, grinding your hips desperately back and forth on his cock, trying as best you could to be careful of the new stitches but needing him inside you so badly that it hurt.
Wordlessly, Rocinante grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over, landing you back-first on the fur rug as he leaned over you, his face flushed, one hand sliding up to caress your cheek.
“Jesus, Roci, be careful—you’re still injured, y’know!”
He glanced down at his leg. “Eh. I’ve fucked people I wanted less with bigger wounds than this one. And besides, you won’t mind if I have to…readjust occasionally, will you?”
Smiling, you shook your head. “Not in the slightest.”
“Good,” he said softly. Leaning down, hand still on your cheek, Roci kissed you with a warmth and tenderness you’d never experienced before. Loving, gentle, sweet.
You knew it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t help but return the kiss—and the absolutely smitten gaze he gave you afterwards.
“Can I take these off?” Rocinante’s big hands were suddenly playing at your belt, and you felt your cock twitch hard at the proximity.
“Yes, jesus, yes,” you arched your hips up to allow him to remove the garment, biting back your moans as the fabric slid over your rock hard cock.
“And the underwear?” He asked, a note of hesitancy in his voice.
Not that he needed to hesitate. You nodded eagerly, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your boxers right along with his and sliding them off, discarding them on the dusty floor. You lay naked on the rug in front of him.
“Fucking hell….” Roci breathed as he stared at your cock. “Please, y/n… please let me touch you…”
You grabbed his hand yourself and moved it to the base of your cock, not breaking eye contact. You couldn’t believe you’d ever denied to yourself that you needed this. Holy shit. You NEEDED this.
Rocinante gripped you gently and slowly began to stroke your member, bowing his head to kiss your hipbones and exposed stomach as he did so. You knew what you were working with was pretty decent—plenty of guys had complimented you on your dick before—but you couldn’t deny that in your Commander’s massive hands it looked positively small.
Not that either of you minded.
The sensation of him gently squeezing your cock as he slid his hand up and down your length was enough to make you physically dizzy. Your head fell back with a moan as he caressed you.
“Please, Rociiiiii….”
When he gently swirled his tongue around the head of your cock, you were finished.
Bucking your hips up, you wailed, gripping the soft fur rug beneath you as your commanding officer took your member into his mouth.
Gently, Roci bobbed his head up and down along your length, sucking it deeply into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the underside. He followed the motions of his mouth with his hand, stroking you, his spit as lubricant. The room was filled with obscene noises as Rocinante positively worshipped you, soft hums of pleasure vibrating against your cock as you covered your mouth and tried not to scream.
He paused a moment and glanced up at you. “This ok?”
Your vision was blurred, your head spinning. You could barely manage to nod your head in response.
“Tell me.”
Your eyes snapped open to see Rocinante smiling at you, the tip of your cock still touching his lips, a twinkle in those red-brown orbs.
“Well, Ensign? How much do you like having my lips wrapped around your cock?”
You moaned in response, unable to form words. This was maybe the hottest thing that had ever happened to you.
Rocinante sat back, the friction of his hands and mouth on your cock suddenly achingly gone. “Tell me, Ensign. That’s an order.”
You couldn’t help yourself any longer. You bucked your hips desperately forward toward him. “God, Roci, it’s so good, it’s so good, fuck, I’ve needed this so long, please don’t stop, please, please…” you were babbling now, anything to get his lips on your dick again.
Finally, Rocinante obliged. Leaning up to kiss you quickly, his mouth led a trail back down your chest and stomach, following your happy trail to your cock. Briefly, he bent deeply and swallowed you completely, sucking you into his mouth hard enough to make you cry out in a mixture of relief and pleasure.
“Roci…” you managed to gasp, tangling your fingers in that soft, wavy golden hair of his. Your lover slid his mouth from your member with a wet pop, catching your gaze for a moment before he trailed his tongue lower. Pushing back your legs slightly, he slid his wet muscle along the seam of your balls, down lower, lower, ghosting across your perineum, and finally flicked it across your hole. Nuzzling his face softly against your inner thigh for a moment, he dove in and began to devour you.
Roci’s tongue moved in eager, hungry circles over your star, lapping at it ravenously, occasionally pushing his tongue inside you just to hear the moans you made when he did it. Softly, continuing to lick and suck at you, he gripped your cock in his hand and gave it several slow, deliberate strokes.
Your balls tightened, and before you even knew what was happening you were cumming, thick spurts of white-hot cum shooting over your stomach, your legs, your commander’s face. He grinned and closed his mouth over the head of your cock, swallowing what he could as you bucked and whined against him.
When you collapsed after several excruciatingly wonderful moments, Roci pressed a soft kiss to your hip bone before climbing back up to gaze at you. Your cum still dripped from his exquisite cheekbone as he smiled, looking down at you with an expression of nothing less than total adoration.
“You ok, y/n?”
Catching your breath, you nodded. “That was incredible.”
“I’m not finished yet, at least not if you don’t want me to be.”
Weakly, you brush your hand against his. “What did you—“ pant, pant. “—have in mind?”
Rocinante took your chin in his hand, enveloping you in a deep kiss. You could taste your own cum on his tongue, enough to make your spent cock twitch again.
“I seem to recall you saying something about wanting me to fuck you?”
You gazed up at him. If the cheeky smile on his face didn’t tell you everything you needed to know, his positively throbbing cock resting on your thigh certainly did. You almost lazily brought your hand to Roci’s cheek, wiping your cum off him with your thumb. He popped the digit into his mouth without breaking eye contact, sucking every last drop of you from your finger with an eagerness rivaling your own.
“Please, Rocinante…”
Releasing your thumb from between his soft lips, your commander leaned down and kissed you deeply, lingeringly. When he broke away, he was smiling.
“Mind lubing me up a bit first?”
Breathlessly, you nodded, your heart skipping a beat as he pushed two of his own fingers slowly into your waiting mouth. You sucked as eagerly as he had moments before, sliding your tongue over the rough pads of his fingers, tasting the salt and leftover gunpowder on his skin.
“Perfect.” Roci smiled as he watched you, slowly removing his fingers, the dim light glinting off a thin stream of saliva that he twirled around his index. “God, everything about you is so beautiful…” he breathed. “I hoped so badly that you felt this way, y/n. That you wanted me the way I want you…”
You felt your face redden as he smiled at you, touching his forehead to yours as his wet fingers trailed lower and lower. Brushing his lips against the tip of your nose, he reached your hole and slowly began to massage around the perimeter, causing a groan to escape you. “Roci, I need you, fuck…”
“My y/n,” your lover smiled, nuzzling his nose lightly against your cheek. As he did so, he slid one big finger slowly inside you. Your back arched against him as he pushed deeper and deeper, then gently added a second. You felt yourself stretching around him, a soft wail escaping your lips as he scissored his fingers inside you, watching your reaction, precum leaking from his big cock onto your leg.
“How does that feel, sweetheart?”
“S-so…good…” you barely managed to stammer, too love-drunk to even notice the pet name, bucking your hips against his fingers, trying desperately to fuck yourself on them. God, you didn’t know what this meant or what this was but you didn’t care in the slightest, you needed him so bad…
Roci leaned in and kissed you gently as he slowly began to slide his fingers in and out of you, sending you moaning into his mouth as he finally pushed deep enough to hit that spot (Jesus Christ and how he hit it) far inside you, sending a frankly very un-Marinelike cry from your lips. Your lover twisted his fingers, massaging you, chuckling softly as you writhed, dug your nails into his wrist, begged him with your entire body. More, more, more, please god more…
And then slowly he was withdrawing them, leaving you painfully empty beneath him. “Roci… please don’t stop…”
“Shhh. Relax, Ensign. Gotta take these out before anything else can go in. Although… I might need you to lube up that ‘anything else’ for me a bit as well?”
You were up and on your knees in front of Rocinante in a second, practically drooling as you finally got a good look at your commander’s dick. It was massive, easily 8 inches, and thick—you couldn’t help but worry a bit about how the hell it was going to fit into you. It curved up slightly at the pink tip, oozing drops of precum.
Rocinante noticed your apprehension and blushed. “I know it’s kind of a lot, but we can go slow…”
You wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, never taking your eyes off it. “I don’t care what speed we go at as long as I get to have you inside me.”
Rocinante brushed his fingers through your hair. “Let me know if you need to stop, ok?”
You nodded, and slowly licked a long stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. Roci positively shivered, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck, y/n…”
Gently, you continued to lick your Commander’s cock, covering it in your saliva, tasting the salt on his skin. When you flicked your tongue up over the pink tip, lapping up the drops of precum leaking from his slit, Rocinante’s hips bucked forward involuntarily, pushing himself into your mouth.
For a moment you sputtered, unprepared for the sudden invasion, and Roci quickly moved to pull back out. But you weren’t about to let that happen. Following his hips, you eagerly took more of him into your mouth, feeling your throat stretch as it filled with him. He was huge, so huge it almost hurt to have him so deep, and you had to fight to control your gag reflex as he gazed down at you, his face flushed.
“Holy fuck, you’re good at this, y/n…”
You smiled as best you could with his cock filling your throat and slowly began to suck him as he had you, coating his dick with your saliva, your own cock already rock hard again just from the feeling of him in your mouth. Bobbing your head, you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of him—a little salty, a little musky, a little sweet. Delicious didn’t even begin to describe it.
You were beginning to find your rhythm now, a slow pattern of in and out, deep but not too deep—but Roci suddenly pulled out, his cock bumping your cheek as you released it. You were almost disappointed—sucking him had been like nothing you’d ever experienced—but that flew out the window when you caught his eye.
“Come sit on my lap, y/n.”
Wordlessly you nodded your head. Your mind was swirling. Holy shit, you really were about to get fucked by your commanding officer. Holy shit, holy fuck…
Roci sat back on the soft fur of the rug and you climbed atop him in the position you were in before—achingly, breathtakingly close. His cock twitched as he pushed it against your soaking wet entrance.
“You ready, sweetheart?”
You could only reach up to kiss him in response.
Slowly, so slowly it made your head spin, Rocinante pushed the head of his cock into your tight hole, both of you groaning in pleasure as it began to slide into you. It was so big, holy fuck, Jesus it was big, and as it stretched you wider and wider you couldn’t help but wince.
Roci paused immediately. “You ok, y/n? We can stop if this is too much…”
“No! No, please don’t stop, please don’t stop, Roci,” you managed to gasp as you adjusted to him, your nails digging into his back as you pressed your face to his muscular chest, needing him like grass needed water, like seabirds needed wind.
Gently, he ran a comforting hand over your back and pushed deeper, helping you to sink down onto his cock until it was sheathed entirely inside you.
“Fuck, Rocinante..” you hissed into his chest as he filled you. Gently, almost experimentally, you raised your hips and slid up and down Roci’s dick once. The sensation was nearly enough to have you cumming again, and Roci himself let out a long, low moan as your muscles clenched tight around him.
“Let me do it, y/n… I promise it’ll feel so good…” your Commander gasped, gripping your hips. Slowly, he began to guide you up and down his cock, brushing that spot inside you again and again. You were vaguely aware of a trail of drool running from the corner of your mouth as Rocinante pumped a little faster into you, and you dug your nails into his back as he held you close.
The two of you were well and truly fucking now, your ass bouncing on his cock as you moaned against his chest, praises and needy begging slipping indiscriminately from your mouth as Roci filled you, hit that wildly sensitive spot over and over, harder and harder, as he made you his.
You managed to briefly look up at your commander, desperate to see that he was enjoying himself as much as you were. Your heart skipped a beat at the way he gazed down at you, his eyes almost wet as he held you, fucked himself in your tight hole.
He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.
“Y/n… holy fuck, y/n…”
Suddenly Rocinante’s thrusts were getting harder, rougher, his grip on your hips getting strong enough to bruise, his breath coming in little gasps.
“Y/n, i’m so close…”
Your own cock was twitching as well, begging for a second release, and you slid one hand from around his waist to jack yourself off hungrily.
“Cum in me, Commander Rocinante,” you begged, staring into his eyes as you stroked your cock, eager to paint his abs white while he filled you.
And with a strangled wail, fill you he did, his cock twitching as it pumped spurt after spurt of hot cum deeply into your hole. The sensation of his seed splashing against your inner walls was enough for you to follow, burying your face against Roci’s pectorals with a long cry as you shot another load onto him.
“Baby, baby, baby, baby…” Rocinante gasped, pulling you so close you almost suffocated against his body as he finished, his hips bucking against yours with a vengeance until finally he collapsed, muscles relaxing. A moment later and you collapsed with him, and Roci lay you both back against the soft brown fur of the rug beneath you.
A moment of silence passed, Roci playing with your hair as he gazed at you, one his arms still around you.
“My y/n,” he finally purred when he caught his breath. “My sweet y/n.”
“I can’t believe we finally did that,” you laugh, nuzzling yourself against him, happier than you could ever remember being.
“I can’t wait to see what the other Ensigns will think when I tell them I have a boyfriend.”
You sat up, an indignant blush creeping up your face. “Boyfriend? Who the fuck said anything about boyfriends?”
Rocinante didn’t flinch. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious where this is heading, don’t you?”
“No!” You stood up, wobbling a little on your post-orgasm legs. Jesus, this man is going to crack me open no matter what I do, isn’t he? “Fuck buddies, or friends with benefits maybe, but not boyfriends!”
Roci just laughed, which you found very annoying. “If you say so, y/n.”
“Commander! Y/n!!”
The voice of Ensign Parvati suddenly echoed from outside the window. “Are you guys alive? …We beat back the Torrez pirates! …Hello?”
Rocinante’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, I forgot about the rest of the squadron.” Frantically he looked around, grabbing his shirt and pants, crashing into everything that wasn’t bolted down as he quickly put on his clothes. “Christ, I am such a bad commander…”
It was your turn to laugh as you stood up, grabbing your own clothes. “You’re fine! Parvati said we beat them.”
He turned to smile at you, affixing his Marine cap to his head. “I can’t say I regret getting so distracted, to be honest.”
“Jesus, you’re corny.”
“You love it.”
You couldn’t help but grin back at him as the two of you finished getting dressed, ready to find your squadron and celebrate your victory.
And although he was not your boyfriend, although he did not know you—you would never let him truly know you— although he was simply your commanding officer who happened to turn lover, nothing more and nothing less—as you walked out the door, you pulled him down to you and very gently pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Maybe next time you and Bellemere smoked weed and watched old cartoons, maybe you’d see if he wanted to come along.
———————————————————————
God DAMN do I love writing me some slow burn 😍 This is my first time writing mlm so please let me know if there’s anything I can improve on!
Did I invent an entire island with a fur industry just so I could make my characters fuck on a fur rug? You’ll just have to decide for yourself 😏
I think there’s enough here to warrant a part 2, if anyone wants to hear it. I had a lot of fun playing with the idea of a character trying to grapple alone with their trauma and self esteem and meeting someone as incorrigibly healing as our darling Rocinante. If this gets notes, who knows what could happen…?
Also, shoutout to my real Torrez Diego, I sincerely hope you never read this fic but you’re cool and deserve to have a scary pirate named after you 💚
As always, thanks for reading!
#Diglett writes#donquixote corazon#donquixote rocinante#donquixote rosinante#bellemere one piece#Rocinante#Rosinante#rosinante x reader#one piece marines#please read I promise the smut is worth it#read and review#feedback wanted#one piece#one piece fanfic
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Love Him Madly
Matías Recalt x Gender Neutral reader
Summary: You're a musician, and you write a song about your boyfriend, Matías Recalt.
(It's originally written by The Doors, but I changed the gender and it's set in modern times).
I wrote 3 fics todayy, I'm so proud of myself qq
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3:00 AM
12 hours you have spent locked in your room. The only times you went out were to get food and use the bathroom. Crumbled paper filled with scribbled lyrics that didn't even make sense was scattered across your room as well as your own vinyls. You were busy writing down songs for your sixth album. It was called L.A. Woman. You were in desperate need of a shower along with a good night's sleep. You haven't slept all day and night. But you couldn't rest now, you had work to do. You promised the band you would be finished by the next day. Well, today, actually, it's early in the morning, and you have to be at the studio by 6:00 AM to present what you have written so far to the band. It had to be good and something that would catch their eye. Something that would hit the charts.
Your back was hunched due to looking down at the empty paper, and your hand began to cramp from holding that damn pencil all day and night. There was nothing good to write about. You have given your all in the last few albums. Your droopy eyes were going to give up any moment now. You looked through all your books and pictures for inspiration, from greek poetry to your graduation photos. All physical media was on the floor now except for your box dedicated to the love of your life, Matías Recalt.
Matías had been your boyfriend for 5 years now. You both met through friends, and the rest is history. You hadn't seen him in a while because just like you, he was busy with his celebrity status. He was an actor and spent the last few months filming for his newest movie, Society of the Snow, so you couldn't see him until he was done filming. You sighed as you opened the box, which revealed pictures of him as a baby to a teenager and finally an adult. There were also pictures of him and you. Your favorite photo included him asleep in a garden during one of your picnic dates. You placed little flowers you had picked in the garden on his hair while he slept peacefully and took the picture. He looked so beautiful. The real sleeping beauty.
4:00 AM
An hour had passed. You had spent one hour reliving the past with your boyfriend. It was worth it, though. You really needed something to cheer you up. So, you happily picked up that pencil again and began to write in the blank paper.
Don't ya love him madly?
Don't ya need him badly?
Don't ya love his ways?
Tell me what you say
The first few lyrics you had written in hours that you actually liked. You really loved him madly. Anyone would, too. You would do anything for that man. But you wanted to be his lover, not his devoted slave so you erased a lyric of wanting to do anything for him. Now, you were left with only 4 lines so far. Thoughts of Matías danced in your mind. His lovely smile, voice, and personality. You really needed him badly now. His touch and his words. You needed to hear him say, "I love you," again. You needed to hug him and feel his warmth. You thought about the both of you sleeping together, him being the little spoon and you being the big spoon. Your arms around his waist and your legs tangled with his. The scent of his shampoo still lingering in his hair, which filled your nostrils. It was one of your favorite scents, along with his natural aroma. The only place you needed to be in right now was in his arms. So, you grabbed a nearby blanket and rolled it. You hugged it tightly with your eyes closed, imagining that you were hugging him.
You loved his ways. The way he walked. The way he dressed. His way of living and just his lifestyle in general. Weirdly enough, you even fell in love with the way he slept. So peaceful and calm, with no worries in the world and you at his side. He was a kind and healthy soul, and you aspired to be like him. You wanted him to teach you his ways. He could tell you anything, and you'd be interested in whatever. He can make anything interesting. You also never got bored of looking at him. You could stare at him forever. If you had the talent, you would build a sculpture of him and show it off to everyone that this gorgeous man is yours only.
Let me tell you what, this man is an angel sent by God himself. You were alone before you met him, and he saved your life on multiple occasions. When you met him for the first time, it was like a fairytale.
Now, tell me,
Don't ya love him madly?
Wanna be his mommy? (Or daddy or other)
Don't ya love his face?
God bless the parents that raised him, you thought.
Again, you loved him madly. Your love for him was so strong that you would've been locked up in the old days for being so crazy in love. "They'd have to lock us both up, not just you." Matías would always say. You giggled. You remembered the first time Matías said I love you. It was in a note he had sent you along with a silver, diamond, heart-shaped ring. You gasped when you opened the box.
Dear Y/N,
Hi, I hope you love your gift. I had it made specifically for you, with your initials engraved on top of the heart. It's special. I remember the first time we've met, how pretty you looked when I talked to you for the first time. So cute, I'll never forget that face. I'll come back to you as soon as I'm done filming. I promise. I know you or me haven't said I love you yet, but I'll be the first, I love you. I hope that didn't make you mad or anything. I really love you so much. I mean it.
Love, Matías Recalt
You couldn't wait to see the look on Matías' face when you tell him for the first time, I love you. How his eyes would widened and he would blush. How he would be shocked that someone else actually loves him. Not for his looks or his money, just for him as a person. You loved his face. His pale skin, pink lips, and dark eyes. His face had "flaws" like acne, but you loved his acne. It made look more cuter, and you always told him not to be insecure about it. His dark eyes were small. You loved how his eyes shrunk whenever he laughed or smiled. Your heart would melt.
Don't ya love him as he's walkin' out the door?
Like he did one thousand times before
Don't ya love his ways?
Tell me what you say?
Don't ya love him as he's walkin' out the door?
Since Matías is a famous actor, he is always on the move and busy. You both go months without seeing each other physically. He has walked out the door one thousand times before. You loved the way he walked out. A specific time where he walked out was when he had a ton of luggage, sunglasses on, a white blouse that was unbuttoned with his chest revealed, and tight black jeans. The weather was blazing that day. You could see droplets of sweat on his neck and chest. His hair was starting to go frizzy from the humdity. He looked down at his watch to see the time. His side profile was like a work of art. Unfortunately, you couldn't admire him for much longer and he had to leave. Matías gave you a kiss on the lips, and he walked out the door for the one thousandth time.
All your love
All your love
All your love
All your love
All your love is gone
So sing a lonely song
Of a deep blue dream
Seven horses seem to be on the mark
Yeah, don't you love him?
Don't you love him as he's walkin' out the door?
When you and Matías were separated, all your love was gone. So was his. You couldn't visit each other for even a short time due to your and his busy schedule. The both of you were lonely. There was nothing you could do. While it was your passion to become a musician, you sometimes felt like quitting just to be by Matías' side. He also thought the same. Life meant nothing without Matías.
All your love
All your love
All your love
Yeah, all your love is gone
So sing a lonely song
Of a deep blue dream
Seven horses seem to be on the mark
Well, don't ya love him madly?
Don't ya love him madly?
Don't ya love him madly?
You wrote the same lyrics again because it was your favorite part of the song. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. You yawned and went up to show who it was. Probably one of your band mates. Your hand grasped the doorknob and twisted it. When the door sprung open, there was Matías. With his hands on his hips and a smile on his face.
You really loved him madly.
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Mr Van der Linde Pt. 4 - Dutch x Reader
Alright you horny bastards, here’s chapter 4. It took me longer than I’d planned, and I had a very busy month, buuuuut I’m hoping it’s worth the wait! Plus, this chapter is almost twice as long as the previous so that should make up for it too.
As always, this chapter is on ao3.
Summary: John makes last-minute plans for his birthday, and you can't say no to visiting him.
Word count: 12,203
Content warnings: drunk sex, smut :)
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10
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Happy birthday!
You set your phone down after sending the message to John, the last birthday in the academic year out of your group of friends - landing in late August. The plan was to celebrate when you all returned to university, considering that was only a few weeks away.
It’d been a couple of months since you all last saw each other, at the infamous Van der Linde party that had more than lived up to its expectations.
It was strange.
You hadn’t spoken to Dutch since then, and while he didn’t exactly have any way of contacting you, you assumed he would be capable of finding a way. If he wanted to, he would, after all.
Still, you were glad you left to go home with Javier when you did. You knew better than to make yourself readily available to a man, even if said man made your legs turn to jelly.
Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up from beside you on your bed to see a train ticket send over by John.
You gotta come down! Javi and our friends from home are going to a pub tonight. It’s an open ticket, so you can come anytime and I’ll pick you up.
John, this is for today! You suck at planning.
He replied with a few smiley face emojis, and you huffed back to lay on your bed. You could hardly say no to that, could you? He’d gone out of his way to buy you a ticket, all so he could see you on his birthday. You didn’t have plans today anyway, and it’s not like it was a long trip. Plus, you’d be out of the house; no chance for any awkward encounters with Mr Van der Linde.
That being said, you no longer harboured any embarrassment towards him. You’d retained your dignity this time around, and were more than prepared to be casual and nonchalant towards him if you did end up seeing him.
You had a few errands to run, but once you were back home you packed a small overnight bag and wore a casual outfit that was still nice enough for a night out. Jeans and a nice top had never failed you so far.
It was mid-afternoon by the time you sat down on the train, pulling out your phone to let John know you were on the way. He replied soon after.
We’re already out. Snooze ya lose
The fucker. Not like you could be mad at him on his birthday, though. Just as you were about to ask where they were so you could make your own way from the station, he sent another text.
Dad’ll pick you up.
What? No! A casual conversation in passing with the man would be manageable, but him coming out of his way to pick you up alone was a horrifying thought. Another text came through.
I gave him your number, he’ll let you know where he’s parked.
You were going to kill him. Or were you? What could you say? How dare you give your father – whom I’ve kissed, twice – my number and ask him to pick me up? No, for once, John wasn’t knowingly being a pain in the ass. Though, maybe there was still time to salvage the situation.
It’s okay, I can just get a taxi
Don’t be daft. I already asked him, he doesn’t mind. See you later
Fuck. You set your phone down on your lap and busied yourself with watching the landscape pass by through the window while you mentally braced yourself for seeing Mr Van der Linde once again.
As the second to last stop was being announced, an unknown number flashed up on your phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello.”
Well, that was the first time you’d ever been turned on by the world hello . That man’s voice was something else.
“I told John I’d get a taxi.”
“You should know by now that I am John’s taxi.”
You huffed a laugh, repositioning yourself in your seat. “Alright. I’m about five minutes away from the stop, where will you be parked?”
“There’s a drop-off rank by the exit if you know it? I’ll be there.”
“Sure, I know it. See you soon.”
“See you soon, miss.”
You hung up the phone, ignoring the playful lilt of his voice and willing your confidence in the situation to remain despite how strongly it wavered.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a large train station like in the big cities. Once you were off the platform, the exit was right by you and you could already see Dutch’s parked car. You approached, hearing the doors unlock as Dutch spotted you in his wing mirror. You braced yourself and opened the door.
He smiled warmly at you. That playful tone of his voice had bled through to his facial expression, it seemed.
You cleared your throat. “Hi.”
“You gonna get in?”
You lifted your bag into his field of view. “My bag.”
Dutch leaned over to press a button, and the boot opened. He tilted his head towards it.
You rounded the back of the car and lifted your bag into the boot. After shutting it, you slid into the passenger seat. When you turned to faff with the seat belt, Dutch’s hand reached across you and grasped the fasten. You turned your head to him and shot him a distrustful look.
The bastard just smiled, pulled the belt over, and clicked it into place.
“What are you playing at?” you asked, easily and willing yourself not to laugh, so as not to provide him with satisfaction by playing into his game. Something about his mischievous face made that a rather difficult task.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said casually, starting his car and reversing out of his spot slightly. As he did so, he put a hand on the top of your seat and looked out his back window.
“You know exactly what I mean,” you grumbled, and his smile grew as he pulled out to begin the drive.
“How has your summer been?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Just fine, thank you. How was yours?”
He rolled his eyes, drumming his fingertips on the wheel. “That’s a rubbish answer.”
“How?” you clucked at him.
“I’m genuinely interested,” he paused, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to give you a pointed look, “I’m not just trying to make small talk. What did you get up to?”
A smile quirked over your lips; too much time spent in hospitality and practising your manners, you supposed. “I worked, mostly. But I caught up on my sleep, read a few books and watched a few things on TV that I’ve been meaning to finish. So really, nothing exciting, but I enjoyed it.”
“Better,” he hummed, and if he didn’t look so hot when he smiled smugly like that you’d have been tempted to shove him.
“And you?” you sighed, not hiding your unwillingness to say the expected line in return.
“Went away with the kids for a week. Other than that, I worked. Actually,” his eyebrows pulled up as an idea came to mind, “you should come with us when we go next year.”
You snorted a laugh, then realised he was entirely serious. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Why would I go?”
At his silence, you glanced over and observed the half-smile on his face. “For my benefit.”
You scoffed, not wanting to reward him with a laugh again. As you recognised the roads on the way to his house, you realised he wasn’t taking you straight to the bar. “Oh, aren’t you taking me straight there? I have everything I need, you can just take the overnight bag back with you.”
“Oh, can I now?” he asked, teasingly.
“So you don’t have an extra trip,” you clarified, not wanting to come across ungrateful.
“Well,” he said gently, “we’re almost there now.”
“Dutch,” you tutted. “I’m already late.”
“Hush.”
With a defeated huff, you relaxed back into the seat and decided not to fight him on this. He was giving you a lift, after all. And truthfully, you didn’t trust yourself alone with him. The train journey, along with the time at home over summer, had given you a good chunk of time to think about the situation you’d found yourself in.
After the party, you’d been disappointed that Mr Van der Linde had acted as though nothing happened, but now you supposed it was for the best. Since, what was the alternative? The two of you start dating ? Or, you have a quick fling, that you’d have to keep from John for the rest of your friendship? No, no good could come from this.
You weren’t going there again.
When John had asked if you wanted to come and stay you were hesitant but decided that no , you do have self-control and kissing his father was a mistake. A lapse of judgement. You couldn’t do it to him. John was more important.
The car stopped and you automatically undid your seatbelt, exited the car, and removed your bag. “I’ll get a taxi to the pub,” you informed Dutch as he locked the car once you shut the boot.
“No you won’t,” he responded instantly, and you followed him up the drive and to the front door.
“What’s the point of your bringing me here to drop my bag if you’re going to insist on dropping me off?” you asked, wondering when you began feeling so at ease with him to treat him as though he was one of your friends, instead of a friend’s parent. Perhaps it was when you shared a drunken kiss. Those were known to bring two people closer together.
Dutch smiled to himself, opening the door and gesturing for you to come in. You rolled your eyes and ignored his chuckle as you entered, before making your way upstairs to dump your bag in the same spare room you’d used the first time you visited.
“Okay,” you said on your way down the stairs but stopped in your tracks when you found the hallway empty. You walked down and to the kitchen, finding Dutch pouring a glass of wine upon your entry. “I’m ready to go, but I can get a taxi, especially if you want a drink -”
“It’s for you,” he held it out, “so you can catch up.”
“I’m already late,” you laughed but walked towards the breakfast bar and took the drink anyway. You leaned on it while you had a sip. “I will drink this quickly .”
“Fine,” he shrugged, that stupid smile on his face once more. He looked you up and down. “You look nice.”
“Thank -”
“A little too nice.”
Here we go again . You tutted at him. “Really?”
He smiled; enough of a confirmation.
“Well,” you sighed stubbornly. “I don’t want to go there again. Not anymore.”
Dutch’s brow quirked, and you hated him for how much he loved these sorts of games, especially since he was so damn good at them. “Is that right?”
“Yes.”
He took slow steps to round the island and stopped behind you. His signature smell that propelled you into a hazy pool of lust reached you before he did, his hand coming to rest on the counter beside you. Then his other hand, on the other side. He’d boxed you in. “Is that right?” he repeated, lowering his tone.
You took another sip of your wine and swallowed. “Yes.”
“There’s no need to be nervous, my dear.”
“I’m not,” you answered instantly, but took another swig of wine and that coupled with the quietness of your voice proved that yes , you were nervous. No part of him had even come into contact with you, yet you felt like your legs would buckle at any given moment.
“That so?”
You nodded.
He straightened up, and he was so close you could almost feel him. “How about now?”
“Do you want me to be nervous?”
“Just trying to figure you out,” he murmured.
“And what have you deduced?”
“I’m glad you asked. You see,” he slid his hands slightly closer to you, lessening the space you were trapped in. “You and I are rather similar.”
“We are?”
“Mhm.”
“How so?”
“We want similar things.”
You swallowed. “Do we?”
One of his hands moved off the counter, brushing your hair away from your ear and neck, before lightly tracing your spine and landing comfortably on your lower back. “Yes,” he whispered, lips just an inch from your ear.
“I’m going to be late,” you announced quietly.
“You’re already late. Besides, John can wait – I've been waiting much longer.” With that, he pressed his lips to your neck. You tilted your head, effectively melting into him and his torso met your back at just the right time. His hand journeyed from your lower back to your stomach, thankfully holding you up against him.
You released a slow breath, feeling comfortable enough to lose yourself in the man as he took his lips from your skin. You turned in his embrace, facing him, and placed your palms on his waist. His dark eyes were entirely taken over by lust. He’d seduced you, so easily despite your inner monologue of protest. “You can’t just -”
Dutch cut you off by pulling you into a heated kiss. He took his time, slowly moving his lips on yours but with an undeniable sense of urgency. “You’re fucking irresistible -” he said in between his affections, both of his hands now grasping your hips.
“- This is a terrible birthday present for your son -”
“- What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him -”
“- Shit,” you put your hands on his chest to keep him at bay and to allow a moment of reprise. “Where’s Tilly?”
“Obviously not here,” he said, as though it was the most ridiculous thing for you to be concerned about.
You tsked through your teeth. “Obviously.”
Dutch leaned in to resume the activity, but your hands remained pressed into his (rather delightful) chest. “What if someone comes in?”
“I am fully aware of who resides in my house. And it is currently nobody but us.”
You huffed, his lack of understanding for your worries needling under your skin. “Well, what if you’ve gone senile? It’s possible that you aren’t entirely aware.”
He stilled, looking at you with incredulity. “You aren’t funny.”
You smiled in response, disagreeing with his statement.
“That what you’re into? Senior citizens , if that’s what I am?”
You held in your laugh and noticed the twitch of his amused lip. “Depends, are you always into girls half your age?”
Dutch glanced away with a quiet, defeated sigh. “Touché.”
Your laugh escaped, and you were reminded just how easy it was to be with him. The last thread of common sense that remained in your mind reminded you of all the reasons why you shouldn’t.
"I said I wasn't gonna do this again," you said, regretfully.
"So did I."
That alone was enough to scare you, because god how were you expected to experience this and just walk away from it? Your insides were on fire, your body thoroughly burning up with passion after such a minute exchange. When faced with the prospect of this actually not happening, it was a stark realisation of just how much you wanted... needed it. "Suppose we’ve already done it now."
“I like your way of thinking, girl,” his low voice dripped with pride, and it didn’t help.
He kissed you once more, and you swore you could happily just do this all day. His lips against yours felt like something you’d been looking for your entire life, and then there was him , broad and charming and mature and smart and he wanted you -
It’s John’s birthday.
“Right,” you proclaimed, and you’d have physically slapped yourself out of it if it wouldn’t make you look completely insane. You pushed his chest with more force, allowing enough space between you so you could slip out of his embrace. He reached for you again, and you put your hands up in surrender, stilling him. “No. I need to go. I’m already going to have to tell John my train was delayed,” you pressed your lips together, “and reapply my lipstick.”
Dutch chuckled fondly, dropping his hand down. “Fine. I’ll just wait for you to get back.”
You tilted your head at him exasperatedly. “ Dutch .”
He was gentle when he reached for your hand again, and held it, bringing your knuckles to his lips and folding your fingers closed around his. “Alright. I’ll drive you now.”
-
John was... very drunk.
It was his birthday, so you didn’t blame him one bit, but you’d honestly be surprised if he even remembered you’d been there come morning.
“Another shot for the birthday boy!” Javier announced, multiple shot glasses of... something somehow balanced between his fingers. He placed them down before jovially patting John on the back.
John didn’t take a single moment to ponder what was in his glass before it was down his throat, and you could only laugh.
“Javi,” you lamented fondly, “it’s all well and good turning all his insides to ethanol when you’re not the one that has to get him home alive.”
Javier laughed, picking up a shot and shunting it towards you, clinking his own against it once it was in your hand and knocking it back. You followed suit. “I’ll see if I get him to do a tactical -”
“Chunder?” Javier interrupted, “he’s already done it.”
“God damnit,” you sighed with a laugh, keeping an eye on the security guard who somehow hadn’t noticed the sloppy state of one of its patrons.
“He’ll be fine ,” Javier slurred, “always is, somehow. Things just work out for our Johnny.”
“Don’t they just,” you snorted, watching with amusement as he swayed to the music in his seat. Only a matter of time before -
“I love this song!” John grabbed your hand and pulled you up, nodding his head towards the more open area of the bar where a few people were dancing.
“Ah,” Javier hummed as he followed behind the two of you, “not long now before he passes out.”
You gave him a look of agreement; John was nothing if not a creature of habit, following the same cycle every time he had one too many drinks. Mentally, you made a bet that in twenty minutes the two of you would be outside, trying to flag down a taxi.
Twenty-five minutes later, and there you were.
“New record for him, ain’t it?” Javier commented as he tried to find an Uber that’d accept his ride while steadying himself on the lamppost and honing all his concentration on his phone screen.
“Yeah...” you shrugged your shoulder up in an attempt to straighten the John that was slumped on you for support, “remind me why I’m the one holding him up and not you?”
“Ah, I got one!” Javier ignored you, squinting at the screen to read the number plate.
With a sigh, you once again tried to readjust John to prevent him from falling face-first onto the concrete, despite how amusing that would be. Thankfully, the taxi didn’t take long to arrive, though since Javier’s stop was first, you were left alone to try and heave John out of the seat and into the house.
“Come on John,” you grumbled, supporting him up the few steps to the front door while trying to block out your own drunkenness, “work with me here.”
As you were trying to get his key from his pocket, since he had no desire (or ability) to listen to your instructions and get them out himself, the door opened, and Mr Van der Linde stood there with a blasé expression, dressed in joggers and a t-shirt.
Wordlessly, you removed John’s arm from your shoulder and handed him to his father, who chuckled at your eagerness to part with the responsibility of keeping his son upright.
“Good night?” he asked John, who answered by putting his arms around Dutch’s neck, and you laughed to yourself at how much like a kid he seemed at that moment.
Dutch rolled his eyes as you shut the front door, giving the stairs a weary look. “I’m pretty sure I can’t carry him anymore.”
“I don’t know,” you hummed as slow steps were made towards them, “he’s like a string bean.”
“And so is my spine.”
“Fair enough,” you chuckled. “Go on, I’ve got the back.”
And thus began the descent, and while he managed to pull his own feet onto each step, with each one John became weightier – or Dutch’s strength lessened, you weren’t sure.
The three of you made it up without any broken bones, and Dutch opened the door to the next flight of stairs that lead to John’s room. “I’ll get him into bed,” he positioned John at the doorframe before leaning towards you, a twinkle in his eye, and murmuring, “you stay right there.”
You bit your tongue and gave him a daring look, folding your arms across your chest. It’s not like there was anything you wanted more, the alcohol in your system making him look that extra bit more attractive, but you didn’t want him to know that.
Unfortunately, Dutch had already deduced that to be the case and gave you a half-smile after glancing down your form, then proceeded to get John up the stairs.
You took out your phone, quickly checking your appearance and being thankful that you didn’t look too dishevelled.
Dutch returned momentarily, pointedly closing the door and breathing a sigh of relief. “You don’t seem very drunk," he commented.
"No. John was already wasted when I got there so I presumed I'd have to look after him."
"My son. The liability," he proclaimed with mocking disappointment, and you laughed softly.
The following quiet pause hung in the air between the two of you, and you cleared your throat.
“Care to have a drink with me, now? The night is still young,” Dutch said charmingly, but you blanched at thought of doing anything while your best friend was under the same roof. You’re tired and ready for bed? That’ll work.
“It’s...” you checked the time on your phone, and your excuse thinned out into the air. “Jesus. It's only eleven.”
“Exactly.” Dutch began the journey downstairs to the kitchen, not leaving you with room to argue, and so you followed him there. You didn’t want to argue. You wanted to sit and have a drink; to spend time with him. But as usual, and rightfully so, your conscience willed you to protest. Perhaps reasoning that he hadn’t provided room to argue was a cop-out, but you stuck with the excuse all the same. Dutch took out two snifters from the kitchen cupboard along with an already-open bottle of brandy.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr Van der Linde?” you asked, eyeing the generous measure he poured for each of you.
“Now why would I do a thing like that?” he asked innocently, swiping the drinks up and walking into the adjoining living room.
“So you can make an advance on me?” you gently accused him, getting yourself comfortable on the sofa as he did the same.
“I don’t need to get you drunk to do that,” he tilted his head at you, handing you the glass.
“No?” you took a sip and ignored how many drinks you’d mixed that night, hoping your body would do the same. The brandy tasted more expensive than anything you’d ever drunk before.
The tension built as he took a sip of his drink, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on you. He didn’t need to clarify his answer further. “How cute,” he smirked, and you rolled your eyes.
“What do you gain from teasing me like this?” your soft voice betrayed your act; there was no fooling Dutch that despite your question you rather enjoyed his teasing.
He chuckled easily, watching his brandy swirl around the glass before taking it to his lips. His gaze flicked up to you and remained there for a short moment. “Let’s just say you’re rather expressive.”
“Expressive?”
Dutch hummed his agreement.
“How so?” you wracked your mind, suddenly feeling as though you were exposed bare in front of him. In your opinion, you’d done a semi-decent job of blocking the outward display of your desires. Though maybe you had, the strength of said desires made it impossible to hide them fully.
He tilted his head, examining you. “Your lip tightens ever so slightly,” he said softly, continuing his appraisal of your face, “those eyes of yours too, I can practically see your irises take over the rest.”
You scoffed. “All that tells me is that you spend far too long looking at my face.”
Your opponent's own face softened, Dutch’s hard features somehow gentle in the low light of the living room, illuminated only by a standing lamp in the corner. A small smile seeped onto his face. “It’s cruel to blame a man with refined tastes for admiring something so well crafted.”
“You and your tastes ,” you muttered into your glass, taking a swig.
“I must say, you do continue to impress me.”
“Yeah?” you raised your brows, patiently awaiting whatever silken spool he was winding you with.
He nodded, expression content but with an underlying playfulness; as though the two of you were in on some unspoken inside joke. “Your willpower far surpasses mine.”
You snorted a laugh, though it came out quiet and not fully committed. “You view yourself rather highly.”
“We must all have our own frame of reference.”
“I suppose,” you took another sip, the surface of your skin prickling thanks to the strong spirit. “How come you refer to it as willpower?”
“What would you call it?”
The way Dutch spoke to you, the way he asked his questions and observed your body language along with the answer you gave, provided an odd sense of security. It was as though he was sifting through your brain, almost getting lost in the abyss that was your thoughts. Every answer you gave provoked a new avenue of exploration, and it gave you a small measure of power to have someone listen so intently to what you had to say. In your experience with men, conversations had often been one-sided as they waited for your response only so they could have their turn to speak. Had his communication skills been refined with age, or was it simply him , harbouring a desire to learn more about you? “I’m not sure,” you settled on your answer, “but how do you know it isn’t just unreciprocated feelings?”
He smiled proudly at that, a laugh coming from deep in his chest. His eyes practically shone with awe, as they usually did when you tested his boundaries. You supposed this was what this whole thing was about – how many boundaries would the two of you test in the pursuit of... what was it? Pleasure?
“I know that’s not the case,” he said lowly.
“Like I said. You view yourself highly.”
There was a pause, Dutch sighing contently as the two of you took another sip. “I would like to return our topic of conversation to the subject of my tastes.”
“Well... what about my tastes?”
Dutch’s eyes glinted, as though that was a question he’d been waiting to answer. “We can talk about those, too, if you like. Though I already know what you want.”
“Is that so?” you swallowed.
His answer was a shuffle closer to you, taking your glass along with his and setting them down on the coffee table. He turned his eye line to your hair, of which he gently brushed a strand away from your face. “Yes,” he answered, keeping his attention on the movement of his hand. “You recall our earlier conversation.”
You nodded, despite it not being a question. Dutch lowered his hand; its journey slow as it made its way to your thigh. His palm rested there lightly, but it was self-assured. The sensation of his big, firm hands on you sparked something deep in your gut. His head tilted downwards, he looked at you through his lashes, and there was no denying the lust plain on his face.
But he wanted to play games, so you planned on giving him his way. Dutch may believe he’s the only one with the upper hand of knowledge, but you knew just what he wanted.
There was a part of Dutch that wanted you to give in, for need and desire to overtake your composure and to have you throw yourself at him. But the way you sat, unmoving yet relaxed, furthered his interest in you. He did love a challenge. And at the feeling of your thigh under his palm, he set himself the task of reducing you to your purest desires.
“I was reading a book recently,” he mused, gently running his thumb back and forth on your thigh.
“Were you now.”
“About the dangers of men and their greed,” he continued, “until they destroy all that lies in the path of their pursuit until there is nothing left. You know what happens then?”
His arm snaked around your shoulders, and you ignored it, but you couldn’t help softening slightly into his supportive limb.
“I asked you a question.”
“I don’t know.”
“Once they’ve destroyed all this earth has to offer, they in turn destroy themselves.”
“Forgive me, Mr Van der Linde -”
“Dutch, darlin’,” he interrupted absentmindedly.
“ Dutch ,” you allowed his name to roll off your tongue and didn’t miss the low growl of approval in the man’s chest as he leant further towards you. “I don’t see how this is relevant.”
“I’m not finished,” he said plainly.
“Then please,” you stretched your back minimally, enough for his eyes to dart to your chest, “continue.”
Dutch's attention turned to his hand, still on your thigh that he kneaded firmly then returned to its resting position, gripping you noticeably harder than it had previously. “I have always prided myself in valuing what I have , not allowing my desires to manifest in things I do not need.”
You waited patiently when he checked your reaction, his torso entirely pressed into yours.
“Yet...” his voice dropped almost to a low hum, close enough for you to practically feel the vibrations of his baritone. His face moved to the side of yours, his lips beside your ear. “Yet I find myself desiring. ”
You swallowed.
“The modern man is taught to give up his pleasures, a mere insult to our existence, considering inside us there exists the human, and the animal...”
He brushed his nose up the side of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair.
“To ignore either one goes against our very nature.”
“It does,” you said, intending your words to come out as a question but instead they reached Dutch as a confirmation.
“Instead of leaning into those pleasures,” Dutch’s palm slowly brushed up your thigh and he felt the muscle underneath twitch involuntarily, “they allow society to tell them what they want. Struck by a fear of delving into the recesses of their own minds to find out what they truly desire. Instead, they want to acquire for the sake of acquisition, things that serve no purpose. So now you see my problem - I find myself wanting to acquire what I currently hold in my hands.”
He squeezed your flesh, angling himself towards you, that carnal desire he spoke of hard against your leg. His arm that’d been over your shoulders returned to its owner and he brushed the back of his finger over your cheek. You tilted your head towards him, eyelids relaxed, and a warmth spread in Dutch’s chest at your slow undoing. Though, he still had some work to do. Experimentally, you leaned in, and Dutch took it as his cue to speak once more and took his hand away.
“But then,” - your next breath out was slightly audible - he already had you where he wanted you, didn’t he - “I was struck by an epiphany. I am not like them. You know why?”
You shook your head, releasing a shaky breath as Dutch’s fingertips returned, and slid up your neck until reaching your chin, holding it between his fore and index finger while he gazed intently at your bottom lip.
“ Those men, they don’t place value in the having of the thing. They want it until they have it, then they want something else,” he sighed contently, moving forward as though to kiss you but pausing, pulling your chin down until your lips parted and then continuing, instead taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. He dragged them against your skin until your lip released, and the slight part in your mouth remained, though now your bottom lip was redder than before – your blood rushing to sit underneath the surface. A beautiful sight.
You remembered then, your earlier intention of remaining sturdy, but didn’t have enough in you to cease the softening of your body bit by bit, falling gladly in the mould Dutch presented for you. There, the world seemed simple, comfortable, a place where you didn’t have to constantly think , and could just be...
“Man,” Dutch continued, now almost consuming you in every way one can be consumed, “when left to his desires will induce hell. I believe it is our business to find heaven, and I think I know the first place to look.”
“Where?” your question came out in a thin sigh, barely there at all.
He smiled, glad that you’d asked as much as he was glad that you were listening so well. He ran his lips along your jaw, his hot breath skirting down your neck and you could hardly notice his hand on your leg creeping up the remaining distance. “ Right between your thighs. ” He cupped your clothed pussy and squeezed .
Your gasp was staggered, a noise that wanted to be a yell, but you repressed it as much as you could. Finally, your hands reached for Dutch and gripped to the first thing they could find: the sides of his firm waist. You pulled him to you and demanded he kiss you back, which was no big ask for him.
While he could feel your wanting hands tugging, there wasn’t much direction from them except closer , so Dutch allowed his weight to lean in and convinced you to lay on the sofa until his frame covered yours. His palm remained in place, and you ground your hips up into it while kissing him fervently. It was the sort of kiss where both parties refused to back down, each of their desires – the irony didn’t escape you – wishing to conquer. But Dutch had the upper hand, being above you and controlling your pleasure just by squeezing . Your head dropped back, a sigh of ecstasy releasing, and all Dutch could do was growl.
“That’s right,” he praised soothingly, pressing his palm harder into your mound, “give in to me.”
You happily obeyed that command, wrapping your arms around his neck and shifting your thighs, the wetness in your pants growing to a level of discomfort. That, coupled with the sweat pooling on your skin, made you feel positively dirty . It was a happy state of being, to be so okay with that and truthfully, wanting more.
Dutch moved his hand away and you whined pitifully, him chuckling at the extent of power he now had over you and rewarding himself with a desperate squeeze of your breast.
There was a pause, one where you just looked at each other with chests heaving and desire rippling from your bodies in waves. All you could see in his eyes was a certainty, what for you weren’t quite sure, and his intentions were clear as day as he silently communicated them with you. The relaxation of your shoulders was enough of a response for him, and his façade of seduction slipped only for a moment as he offered you a warm, slight smile.
It left as quickly as it had appeared, Dutch opting for doing the one thing he’d thought of more than anything since he’d met you. He pushed the fabric of your top up your stomach, and you shifted onto your elbows to allow him to remove it. You hardly noticed his fingers trace around the wire of your bra until they reached the back, unclasping it in one swift motion. Holding your arms out, he took it as his cue to remove the garment and his gaze transfixed on your bare skin.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his index and middle finger slowly swiping up to run a nipple between his digits.
It was... different. He was admiring you, taking his time despite his arousal bursting at the seams (literally - you could see it). It felt like it had always been missing in your previous encounters, and while you recognised the sweetness in his zealous actions, this time you wanted to be rushed. Just a little, to allow yourself to remain in the heady state you’d found yourself in.
You interrupted his infatuation by leaning up, shucking his t-shirt up and he smirked while raising his arms. “My turn.”
“Of course.”
Dutch moved to sit back on his haunches, to allow you both a moment to drink each other in. He forgot that you’d already seen his chest, as delightfully toned and hairy as it was, in much better lighting some months previously. Sure, you could look at him all day if given the task but one glance at his skin was enough for you to want to feel it against yours while the opportunity presented itself. You sat up with a huff, practically pouncing on the unsuspecting man and taking a seat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Oh, darlin’,” he said with an air of surprise, and before he could start talking again you landed your lips on his thick neck, kisses and licks that turned into grazing bites evaporating all his thoughts from his head.
Despite his joggers and your jeans separating the two of you, Dutch was so furiously hard that it was more than enough friction for you to grind against. So you did, you rocked your hips over his length and build up that stimulation, tilting your head up with a breathy sigh and squeezing your legs around his.
Your eyes fell shut, the buzz of alcohol coupled with the buzz of arousal too tempting not to chase. Dutch’s eyes, however, were transfixed as he watched you. His big palms held your thighs while he enjoyed your show, the crease between your brows, the part of your lips, and the flush underneath your skin was a delight to watch. However, his favourite thing about your show was that it wasn’t for him; it was for you.
His dominance and desire to pin you down and fill you up was still there, somewhere, but drifted further away with every greedy grind of your hips. “You are perfect like this,” he said lowly, almost to himself, but you stalled your motions and blinked your eyes down to look at him questioningly. “Being selfish looks good on you,” he clarified.
Your laugh was muted when you rolled your eyes, and you opted for kissing him again and favouring slow movements of your hips.
Dutch allowed it, for a moment, but his practised patience was beginning to wear thin. “I think that’s enough teasing for me,” he muttered against your mouth.
While you were a sight to behold, he’d allowed you to turn him into a speechless deer stuck in a beam of headlights, allowed himself to give in and become pliant. That wasn’t how it was in any of his fantasies. There, he ploughed into you while you whined, and prepared your grounds for the sowing of his seeds. With an effective grunt, he gripped a hand on each of your upper arms and twisted you to lay on your back, resuming his dominating position over you.
You smirked up at him, a little surprised but with no complaints. This was really going to happen.
Dutch’s joggers now sat low on his hips, and your eyes were drawn to the dark hairs that led down into them. “Ah ah,” he teased, “it’s my turn now. Remember?”
You flicked your eyes up to him and shrugged, settling into the sofa and gesturing to your jeans to give him the go-ahead. His face lit up with poorly contained excitement, either that or you were beginning to read his emotions better, and he swiftly got to work undoing your jeans. He slowed enough to remind himself that this was rather a big deal and took his time as he dragged the material down your legs. He bit down on his tongue at the sight of you exposed, save for your underwear which was moist with your desire. Dutch was drawn to it, pressing the pad of his thumb over the wet patch and you were responsive as ever, moving your hips to chase the pleasure.
He would’ve been happy to watch you squirm some more, but you were nothing if not fair and decided to carry on implementing this rule system the two of you had created. You sat up, placing your fingertips on his waistband and glancing up to get permission. He nodded once and leaned down to kiss you while you slipped the joggers over his delightful thighs.
When the kiss broke, you widened your eyes in surprise when you looked down to see his cock, hard and frustrated.
“Where’s your underwear?” you asked him, and he tilted his head at you with incredulity.
“Why would I wear underwear to bed?”
Oh. You’d forgotten this was just his sleeping attire. “Good point,” you agreed. “That means I’m out of turns.”
“That’s alright,” Dutch leaned over you, hooking his thumb into your underwear, “I do believe it’s my turn, anyway.”
With that, your underwear was off, and you each took a moment to admire the other, your mind turning to filth at the thought of all he could do with... that...
The most appropriate way you could put it was that he was rather blessed. And soon you would be, too.
Dutch leaned over you, his skin on yours enough to keep your mind cloudy and content. “Positively... delectable,” he purred, lowering his lips to commence a slow kiss and you gripped his forearms; anchoring yourself to him.
“Now darlin’,” he huffed, attempting to order his scrambled thoughts, “I need to be fair and honest with you.”
You paused, frowning. “About what?”
“I told you earlier, I am not interested in desire. While I desire you now, I do not wish to desire something I cannot have.”
Your frown deepened, and you glanced down at yourself. “But, I’m allowing you to -”
“I know ,” he soothed. “I don’t just mean now.” Dutch paused for a moment, too many wonderful parts of you that he wanted to look at, so he instead opted for your face, which he was already rather fond of. “If I have you... then I must have you. If I become accustomed to the taste of your skin, I know, I just know...” he trailed off, running his hand up your flank and across your chest, lazily thumbing a nipple. “It will no longer be want. Having you, it will be a need .”
You relaxed, eyes returning to their softened state.
“Do you understand?”
You nodded.
“No - do you really understand? What me having you now entails?”
You nodded again.
“Words, darlin’.”
“I -” you faltered, understanding perfectly what was to come next but deciding instead to indulge yourself in the honeyed prose that oozed from his mouth. “Tell me.”
His brow raised, impressed that even in your lust-filled state you were able to continue the act of teasing. “Very well,” he agreed, scanning his eyes down your naked form underneath him, the head of his cock leaking onto your leg. “I will have this,” he lamented with a hand on your stomach before it drifted down to rub the sides of your folds, toying with the almost-pressure between his alternating fingers. “And I will have this. I will take from you, my sweet, and grip onto that waist of yours while I also give . I will give, I will pump you full of me until I have nothing left.”
You bit down on your tongue, rolling your hips with not an ounce of shame. “ Okay .”
Dutch smiled, pleased. He sat back on his haunches, taking a hand to the innards of your knees before kissing each one and opening your legs. He stared at what he found, cock twitching as it stood impatient against his abdomen, his tongue darting out on his lip absently. He brushed his hands up your thighs until they reached your waist, and he pulled you roughly towards him, towering over you as he chuckled darkly. A slight gasp left you, and you squirmed with how close he was to joining the two of you.
And there it was. You, needy and flustered underneath him, and it was beyond worth the wait.
Though it wasn’t necessary, Dutch resumed the stroking of your folds, this time dipping into your slit to tease your entrance. He bit back a moan, the hint of wetness, warmth, and plush flesh that he was about to experience very intimately almost making him lose his wavering control over the situation. Your walls clenched, willing him to relieve you and truthfully not believing you needed any form of preparation, but perhaps it was a precaution – or he was being a gentleman.
The fact was that Dutch just wanted to feel you, not only with his fingers but his tongue, too; though that would have to wait for another day lest he wanted to finish before he’d even started.
He slid a finger in without resistance, your body doing everything to ask for more , to keep what was already filling you. It slipped out a few inches and a second finger entered along with it on the next experimental journey in and you released a breathy moan, feeling nothing aside from pleasure. Briefly, you wished this had happened at the party a few months back so you could’ve done it while he wore his rings. Though, you weren’t in a position to complain.
Dutch’s approving hum accompanied his slow ministrations, crooking his fingers slightly so that they just brushed against the raised bump in your walls and your next breath came out lined with frustration.
“Come on, Dutch,” you’d intended to be assertive, but your voice hung in the air with a seductive tone, one that still had the desired effect as Dutch immediately removed his fingers and held his hand around his cock, leaning over you some. You smirked at his eagerness and didn’t miss the flash of annoyance over his eyes, though it was borne from a now-familiar fondness on his part.
“You are a rather,” he paused to run the head of his cock over your slit and you bit down on your bottom lip, “ demanding young woman.”
With his cock meeting your pussy for the first time, the stark realisation hit you of just what you were doing. It must’ve shown on your face, causing Dutch’s brows to tense with concern.
“Are you alright?”
You nodded, reminding yourself to take a breath and relaxed some. It was an odd mix of emotions, your excitement and nervousness coming together to make you almost giddy, and you laughed a little with apprehension. “John’s right upstairs.”
Dutch’s expression grew gentle, and he ran the head of his cock down your slit once more, leaning down to touch the tip of his nose to yours. “Then you better keep quiet.”
The barely-there sensation turned to a dull pressure, and then his cock slipped past your entrance and you moaned as he filled you, arching up and gripping the fabric of the sofa as you felt what must be the best sensation of your entire life.
He just kept going , and your attention was drawn to how big he was as he pushed all the way in to nestle his hipbones comfortably into your ass. “That’s not quiet,” he warned, voice restrained as he too kept his response to a minimum.
You chuckled, and Dutch felt it vibrate on his shaft and screwed his eyes shut as the delightful feeling you provided took over him. The man in him withered away, until he was more animal than anything and he briefly questioned whether desire was truly that bad. Then, he internally reprimanded himself for thinking about Evelyn Miller, however briefly, while he was nestled inside a beautiful woman.
“God,” you breathed, making it difficult for him to think about anything else other than you, “you feel so good.”
Dutch felt the heat rise to his cheeks and planned to blame the alcohol in case he actually blushed at your compliment. “Good? Darlin’ you’re...” his mind was empty. There wasn’t a word to describe the way it felt to have your warmth envelop him, even perfect didn’t quite do it justice. “It’s like you’re made for me,” he settled on, surprised his mind could even form a full sentence.
“Dutch?” you said seriously, tilting your head inquisitively.
“Mhm?”
“I have a confession.”
“What is it?” he smirked.
“I’ve been thinking about this for some time.”
He smiled, again feeling coy thanks to your words. It was sweet, and he hadn’t expected this to be so sweet . Then your following words brought him back to reality.
“And every time,” you sat up on your elbows, brushing your lips against his and feeling brave with desire, “you fucked me. Properly.”
Thankfully, Dutch registered your insinuation, and the lust returned to his eyes and wiped out the almost starry-eyed look he’d had in them previously. His hand cupped the back of your head and he kissed you roughly, his tongue invading your mouth as he slowly inched out. He let off, allowing you to take a breath and proceeded to slam his hip into yours.
Finally , that was more like it. Your gasp was high-pitched as he repeated the motion, gradually speeding up and fucking you deeper than you thought was possible.
Dutch’s fingertips gripped the sides of your hips as he tried to pull himself further in, despite that not being possible. Your words had snapped something within him, and he leaned down to suck harshly at your neck.
“Don’t,” a quiet moan broke your sentence, “leave any marks...”
And then, the suction increased, and you gripped a hand into the back of his hair and pulled him off despite yourself. Dutch smirked down at you.
“I’m warning you.”
“You are just a vixen ,” he said with a deep thrust, “so much more to you than meets the eye, sweetheart...” his breath was hot against your ear as he returned to littering your skin with affection, his hand coming between the two of you to knead your breast. Your hand remained in his hair, fingertips running across his scalp at the base of his thick curls, though you weren’t pulling him away this time. His tongue travelled around your neck and ears, leaving cool wetness in its wake as proof of the parts of your skin he’d tasted.
So far, your teasing had been well received. You wondered where his line was. “Am I?”
Dutch hummed his agreement, hardly listening and too infatuated with the feeling of your dripping cunt, soft breasts, and delicious skin. He’d turned quieter than usual while he thrusted into you. You took one look at his face, the furrow of his brow, the tightening of his lips...
He was focusing .
It was sweet, really, that your pleasure was at the forefront of his mind. It was a breath of fresh air that you needed, but right now, wasn’t what you wanted . Screw Dutch and his books and his high horse about desires, you wanted him . You wanted to see that animal he talked so fondly of that apparently inhabited us all. This was the man, but you knew it wasn’t entirely truthful. You wanted him to let go, to take what he wanted. To give into that desire. Fuck it .
“Wish I could say the same about you.”
He paused comically, stilling his thrusts and taking his lips from you, to meet you with a glare. “What?”
“Here I was,” you relaxed back theatrically, “thinking Mr Van der Linde would be all demanding and dominant like he is during the day...” you sighed for effect, “but no. I had to practically beg you to fuck me.”
Dutch’s face didn’t crack as he pulled out of you, moving to kneel on the sofa between your legs. The humour ran cold off your face, you were the one that wanted to find the line, after all .
“I -” you began, sitting up, “I was just teasing.”
He raised a brow, and you sighed.
“Sorry, alright?” you placed a gentle hand on his forearm, “it was a joke. Too far, clearly.”
The silence hung between you, and the lack of change in Dutch’s expression was almost eery. As you moved your hand away from him, he gripped your wrist and yanked you towards him, so close that with your face in line with his chest, you had to look straight up to see his expression. Contrasting the iron grip, his other hand gently caressed your face. “Oh, you are a foolish little girl.”
He was menacing. You couldn’t read him, whether this was part of a bit or whether he was genuinely pissed off you weren’t sure. Perhaps you’d gotten so caught up and forgotten the sort of man you were dealing with, or you didn’t spend long enough at the start trying to find out. “Sorry,” you repeated. “Please.”
“Now you see,” he squeezed your jaw, “ that’s begging. But I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you? Just a sweet little lamb following the scent of fresh grass right into the wolf’s den.”
He released you harshly, knocking you back and a strike of adrenaline ran through you at the dangerous look in his eyes. You didn’t have long to observe, as before you knew it, he’d flipped you over and hiked your ass into the air. Then, a slap reverbed around the room, followed by a sting of pain.
“Dutch!” you squealed quietly, and looked behind at him, “don’t - John!”
He put his hand to the back of your head and pressed your face into the sofa, leaning down to put his lips by your ear while his cock lay comfortably between your ass cheeks. “You asked for this, sweetheart. If it’s a dangerous game you want, it’s a dangerous game you get,” he bit your earlobe and released, “I pride myself in being a thorough man,” his cock began to slide into your cunt, “a man of my word .” He dragged your hips back to him with the hand that wasn’t holding your head. “Let this be a lesson, should you be tempted to try testing my integrity ever again,” you growled in your ear. “Now, princess, I think I’ll fuck all of that attitude out of you.”
With no time for you to protest, not that you wanted to, he began fucking you deep and fast, both pushing his hips forward and pulling you back. The angle was different, deeper as his cock dragged along your walls in a new way. Knowing John was upstairs was no longer a point of guilt for you, instead, it made it all the more exciting. This was wrong . You could get caught. You moaned at the thought, continuing in time with his erratic thrusts.
“Jesus,” he grumbled, reluctantly holding his hand over your mouth instead of on your head, “you’ll wake the dead with those noises of yours.”
With your head tilted up to accommodate for his hand, your back arched and Dutch furthered the bend by pressing his palm onto the middle of your back to provide an even needier view for him. “Stupid,” he grumbled between thrusts, “little, girl. Doesn’t know w-what's good for... her.” His words, while broken with grunts and restricted moans, went straight to your core. There you lay, presented like a common whore and unable to manoeuvre yourself into any other position while he pounded you into the sofa. Dutch had achieved his desired control, and you trusted him fully to bring you pleasure.
As if on cue, his hand moved from your back and round to your clit, rubbing harsh circles over it with his index finger. You moaned into Dutch’s palm, feeling your saliva seep onto his skin and feeling all the filthier for it. The man himself enjoyed it too, this was your truest desire. That tight and unwavering grip you had on your control must be tiresome, he mused while he continued to defile your cunt. “Just look at you,” he breathed, “little miss tries her hardest to be perfect, doesn’t she?” he asked, his tone patronising but only further your building arousal and you were sure you’d soon burst, “so squeaky clean yet here you are... filthy ,” he smacked your ass for good measure, “want someone to take control of you, hm? Someone to -” Dutch took a breath as he continued to hold off from finishing as long as he could. He flat-out refused to come until he got to feel your contracting pussy as you came around his cock. “Someone to look after you, someone who knows just what you need...”
He was truly a bastard. A bastard that had figured you out, and sounded proud for it. But what were you to do? Deny it? Keep up the façade - which, he was right, was truly tiring – or accept it? Allow this to be the one arena where you could just fucking let go. You nodded, despite the restriction of his palm.
You let go , of the pent-up arousal and control as it whooshed out of your body, from your abdomen and down your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes. Your legs tensed in an effort not to shake as you buried your head into the pillow of the sofa, aware of Dutch’s low moan of ecstasy followed by a sopping warmth entering you as he filled you up, entirely with him .
Your eyes had teared up, both from the exhilarating pleasure but too from the damn release . You relaxed into the sofa, feeling floaty and a little overwhelmed. But it was fine, you were fine. While he had been the one to warn you that there was no going back on this, you feared Dutch was the one that didn’t know what he’d gotten himself in form. This was what was missing from your life. This was the thing that poets wrote about, musicians sang about, and what the whole world seemed obsessed with. Love? Not yet. But that passion the two of you created? That shit was art .
“Darlin’?” Dutch questioned, pushing the hair off your sweaty brow and you blinked your eyes open with a tilt of your head backwards to look at him, his face full of concern. “Are you alright?”
You nodded, your best attempt at making sure he didn’t worry about you. He didn’t seem entirely fooled but also not entirely panicked. He gently eased out of you and lay beside you, coaxing you to turn over and lay against his chest. You did, a hand in his wiry hairs while you listened to the pounding of his heart gradually settle.
“Sorry, I - I lost myself a little there -”
“No,” you interrupted, and when you looked up at Dutch he thumbed underneath your eye to wipe the few fallen tears away. “No it was – it was just what I needed.”
That was all it took for Dutch’s face to relax, a genuine smile returning. His deep, brown eyes were a place of warmth, and no part of you felt like you had to appease him or lie to him or change yourself to behave perfectly. It was strange. It was like you, as you were, was enough . He kissed you gently. “Me too.”
While it was possible that your lust-induced brain was reading all the wrong signals, something about the way he looked at you was like a promise it would all be okay. That the two of you had a mutual understanding, that this was perfect for the both of you, not some gross fantasy shit as it had been in your head for over half a year. Well, maybe it was both.
You nestled your head into his chest, and he drew patterns on your back while the two of you lay naked on the sofa, returning to be wholly present in the room.
After a while, how long exactly you weren’t sure thanks to how serene the passing of time was, Dutch spoke.
“I’m sorry for not coming to find you at the party.”
“Oh,” you craned your head up to him. “That’s okay, I just assumed you were busy.” He nodded, a little relieved and you reminded yourself not to be too soft on him just yet. He was fun to tease, after all. “Plus, I don’t see it fair that I should sit around and wait for you.”
“Yes, you’re correct. Something came up that required my attention.” Dutch’s smile at you was proud, and the subsequent kiss he pressed to your cheek was almost endearing. “Good girl. That’s much more like it.”
You rolled your eyes, the praise stoking the fire still dwindling in your abdomen. “Don’t say that.”
“But why?” he questioned, leaning in to kiss your neck, “you’re such a good, good girl...” His kisses grew tender, yet sultry enough for you to make you melt.
“Shut up,” you laughed, and Dutch’s chest vibrated with amusement as he returned to embrace you. Your laugh was so true, and while a voice in the back of Dutch’s head reminded him that he was a serial romantic with a volatile tendency to rush into everything, he found he simply couldn’t help himself. This really was your truest form, not in a sense of your desires, but you . Carefree and unbound by whatever pre-conceived notions you had in your head about what part you were to play as you moved through life. He found himself adoring it. Adoring you. He kissed the crown of your head.
After another unknown length of time, your absent-minded tracing of his forearms reminded you that he had a watch. You titled his wrist towards you.
“Shit, it’s three in the morning.”
“How time flies,” Dutch murmured, and you were sure he was close to falling asleep.
“Hey,” you sat up, “we definitely can’t fall asleep here.”
“No,” Dutch sat up reluctantly, already missing your warmth and chasing it by wrapping his arms around your abdomen and placing a kiss on your shoulder. “Come stay in my bed.”
“What?” you tutted, “are you insane?”
“Some have said so.”
“No way,” you laughed, swinging your legs off the sofa and finding your jeans, your top... “hey, where did you throw my underwear?”
Dutch shrugged, immediately following suit and grabbing his joggers from the floor. You frowned at him. “What?”
You reached over to his joggers and into his pocket. Lo and behold.
“What?” Dutch repeated.
You dressed quickly, walking out of the living room and up the stairs, then into Dutch’s room. You sighed, deciding where to look first. After a minute, Dutch caught up and leant casually on the doorframe while you searched his room.
“What is it, you lunatic?” he asked casually.
You huffed, giving up rather quickly. “Where are they.”
“Where are what?”
“My pants. They grey ones, with the lace. I know you have them,” you pointed accusingly at him.
Dutch broke out into a grin, a laugh accompanying it that you knew would be much heartier if you weren’t sneaking around in the dead of night. He walked nonchalantly to his nightstand, opened the drawer, and then held up the pants for you to see.
The bastard! You could hardly believe what you were seeing.
“I have been looking for those,” you scolded, going to grab them but he just lifted him further out of your reach. “Give them back!”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he said, annoyingly.
“You stole them!”
“You left them here.”
“You’re a liar.”
Dutch smirked.
You made another futile attempt at grabbing them and failed. “They’re my favourite pair!”
“Mine too,” he said diplomatically.
“You’re a fucking pervert,” you narrowed your brow at him, placing your hands on your hips.
Dutch just shrugged. “None of us are perfect. Except maybe you,” he teased, giving you a patronising pat on the head.
So, even now, he still had time for games. You stripped off your jeans to reach your current underwear that he’d too tried to steal and pulled them off before redressing in just your jeans. “What are you doing?”
“Trade,” you held them out to him. “You can have these ones if you insist on being deranged. But I want those back.”
“Aw, no,” he shook his head disapprovingly, “it’s much less fun when you give them to me.”
“So you admit you stole them?”
Dutch didn’t respond, instead reached out and snatched the ones you held, joining them in his other hand.
“Dutch!” you said in a hushed voice.
“I’m a man with needs,” he countered, like a child hoarding toys they didn’t want to share, or a dog that had issues with resource-guarding.
“And I’m a woman with no underwear!”
“It’s a souvenir of our first meeting.”
“And what about that pair?” you shunted your hand at his newest theft.
He shrugged. “Sport, I guess.”
With a fold of your arms, you tried to give him an angry look but with his smirk, tousled hair, and fucked-out, tired expression, your smile cracked. The man was nuts, but you couldn’t deny that he was funny. “Fine. I give up,” you opened up your arms in surrender, then walked past him.
“You really aren’t staying here?”
“Not if I want to leave with my clothes.”
“I’m not interested in the rest of your clothes.”
“You have no shame.” Dutch smiled at that, pleased with himself. “And I’m tired. I will see you in the morning.” You gave him your best doe eyes and gently made your way towards him, brushing a hand over his arm. “Goodnight, Mr Van der Linde,” you said sweetly, leaning up to kiss him and when he returned your affections you reached for the pants clutched in his hands, for him to move them out of reach once more.
He chuckled, taking his lips from yours. “Nice try.”
“Bastard,” you grumbled, turning on your heels and exiting his room.
Once in the spare room, you quickly changed into a baggy top and wished you could have a shower, but that would have to wait. Although, something about falling asleep with Dutch still filling your insides was a rather erotic thought. With a silent thanks to the existence of contraception, your tiredness caught up with you and you didn’t even remember falling asleep.
-
Your choices came back to haunt you when you awoke the next morning, no longer feeling sexy and instead just feeling grimy. It was enough to get you out of bed, and you thanked the stars the shower was free.
When you walked downstairs, fresh-faced and clean, you were greeted with an empty kitchen but heard the television in the next room. In there, you found John, half-dead on the sofa.
“Morning Johnny,” you crooned leaning on the sofa with a teasing smile.
John’s response was a groan, and he shifted slightly from his face-down position to crank an eye open at you. If he only knew what that poor sofa witnessed a few hours previous.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“Please,” he murmured, and you almost felt sorry for him. However, the knowledge that he wouldn’t learn his lesson and would absolutely repeat his actions blocked your empathy from fully forming.
“Alright,” you laughed, making your way back into the kitchen and looking over the fancy coffee machine. After figuring out how to work it, you waited while the machine whirled, and it wasn’t long before the kitchen door opened behind you.
“Good morning,” came Dutch’s gruff voice, and you turned to offer him a smile. He seemed genuinely pleased to see you, and you supposed you did have a track record of disappearing before morning.
“Morning,” you greeted back, moving one of the cups out of the way for another. “Would you like a coffee?”
“Sure,” Dutch came up beside you, placing a ginger hand on your black while he pressed the button for a black coffee.
“Huh, you really are crazy.”
“You don’t like black coffee?”
“I read that those who do are more likely to be psychopaths.”
Dutch smirked, tracing his fingers up your back to your shoulder and leaning down to your ear. “Then you better watch yourself.”
You turned your head to him, and you half thought the two of you were about to share a kiss when the machine beeped to let you know it was finished. Clearing your throat, you gripped his mug along with John’s and handed them to him. “That’s for your son. He’s next door.”
“Aren’t you an obliging woman,” he took the mugs from you with a wink and walked into the living room. You heard them chatting, mainly Dutch poking fun at John, while you made your own drink and joined John on the sofa when you were finished.
“All in all, good birthday then?”
John nodded, placing his mug down on the coffee table and snuggling up beside you. You snorted a laugh, and when you glanced at Dutch you could’ve sworn a wave of jealousy passed over his face.
The three of you sat chatting for some time while the news played in the background until John began to get antsy at not yet having a cigarette. Dutch decided to join him for one, leaving you alone. That was when you saw Dutch’s phone on the table, and an idea came to mind.
You picked it up, smiling briefly and the sweet picture of his three kids that made up his background, then wiped that image from your memory to prepare for what you were about to do. They’d be at least a few minutes, and you’d hear the back door when they decided to come inside. You shucked off your trousers and hiked up your shirt, sliding Dutch’s phone to the side to access his camera. You lay on the sofa, attempting to find a good angle and being pleased the lighting was forgiving in here. Once in a position you were happy with, you snapped a quick photo, closed his phone and returned it to its spot. Swiftly, you redressed and sat back on the sofa, with a few minutes to spare before the pair returned.
You weren’t sure if there was anything planned for the day, and while you didn’t want to overstay your welcome you figured out another way to tease Dutch one last time before your departure. Who knows when you were to see him again, after all.
Once you’d washed up the mugs, you leant on the breakfast bar to pull out your phone and book a taxi while John and Dutch came in from the garden.
“You two up to much today?” Dutch asked casually, and John leaned up beside you.
“No, I’m actually going in a few.”
“You’re welcome to stay for a bit,” John offered kindly, looking slightly more alive after some caffeine and tobacco.
“Thank you, but that’s alright. I’ve got some stuff I need to get done.”
“Well, I can give you a lift to the station,” Dutch interjected, adding, “John’s probably still far over the legal limit to drive.”
John laughed to himself in agreement, and you paused to raise your brows at Dutch.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already booked my taxi,” you held up your phone screen for him to see, the taxi only a couple of minutes away.
Dutch’s face twitched at your defiance, and you made a show of walking around the kitchen and slinging your overnight bag onto your shoulder.
“See you in a few weeks, John,” you hugged him, and smiled kindly at Dutch once John released you. “Nice to see you again, Mr Van der Linde.”
“Yeah, thanks for coming,” said John, and Dutch gave you a barely noticeable shake of his head, but his playful smile was prevalent. “Goodbye, miss,” he added.
With that, a satisfied smile grew on your face, and you made your way out of the Van der Linde house once more.
#dutch van der linde x reader#dutch van der linde x f!reader#dutch x reader#dutch van der linde#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2#fanfiction#my stuff
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Heartwork- E.M. Pt. 1
Hi everyone! Let me start by saying that I am sorry for not being around in a while. Life and stuff, you know? I won't bore you with the details, but long story short, I've found some inspiration again and wanted to finish this fic I was requested. I really hope it's been worth the wait!
2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - Epilogue
Masterlist
You and Eddie meet again after several years apart.
TW- cursing, brief mentions nudity, drinking, mentions of smoking (lmk if I missed anything!)
Pairings- Eddie x Reader
Word Count- 1,779
(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)
You always liked Eddie. Not in the googly-eyed, heart-racing, butterflies-in-the-stomach way, but you used to be really great friends, especially when you hung out with him and your best friend pretty much every day in high school when they were together. You remember all the times the three of you sat on Eddie’s couch in the middle of the night, laughing and smoking together while a movie played in the background, just mood music for the three of you to talk about anything and everything until you fell asleep.
You honestly loved seeing Eddie and your bestie being all lovey-dovey to each other. You’d always give a little smile when you caught them in a tender moment, kissing each other sweetly, holding hands, brushing a piece of hair from each other’s faces… You envied her. You didn’t want Eddie, necessarily, but you did hope you’d find someone that treated you the way he treated her.
You stopped talking to them a while after you left for college. Not out of malice or any sort of fall-out among the three of you, but things just got busy. You were working on a degree, after all, and that takes a lot of focus.
You let your bags fall next to you as you walk into your new apartment in the heart of Hawkins. You never knew if you’d come back after you graduated, but in all honesty, after a lot of looking and a lot of thought, you realized you wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. So, you found a well-paying job at the bank as a junior finance advisor and tried to settle back into the place you’d always called home.
You decide to go out and celebrate at the Hideout, and you smile gently as you walk in for the first time in years, remembering that Eddie’s band used to play here. Maybe they still do. You find a seat at the bar and order some food and a stiff drink, thankful that the bar’s within walking distance of your apartment. You thank the bartender as she sets your drink down in front of you and take a sip, letting yourself look around.
It hasn’t changed a bit. Faded red-painted walls stained with cigarette smoke, a rickety oak stage, heavy velvet curtains flanking each side. So many nights spent here dancing with your best friend, whooping and cheering for Eddie and his band, black sharpie Xs on the back of your hands. You smile at the memory, lost in it as you suddenly ache for that friendship again, when you hear your name being called.
“Y/N?” You recognize that voice. You turn your head to the door to spot a tall man, shaggy mess of curls still intact, sporting a jean vest and a tattered band shirt. You set your drink down and stand, smiling ear to ear.
“Eddie?!” You both laugh as you approach each other and pull each other in, you squeezing his middle as his arms wrap around your shoulders. You part and sigh happily, taking him in. “You look exactly the same!” He laughs.
“And you look… completely different! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Chicago at that fancy school?” He places his hands on his hips, his smile intoxicating, like it always was.
You shrug, hands going to your pockets. “I just graduated a couple months ago. I thought about staying there, but it’s not home, ya know?”
“Yeah, I get it. Wasn’t the same without you, though.” You wave a hand dismissively.
“I bet you didn’t even realize I was gone, what with you and Y/BFF/N too busy ogling at each other every second. How is she, by the way?” You watch as his eyes go from joy to something darker, sadder, and you regret asking.
“Eh, it didn’t work out. She actually moved not long ago. Down south, near the river, I think.” You shuffle your feet, eyes flicking down.
“Oh. I’m sorry, Eds, I didn’t—” Eddie waves a hand, his smile returning.
“Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago now.” It goes quiet, and tension builds. Then, the bartender sets your plate of loaded potato skins down next to your drink, and you try to smile again.
“Wanna sit? I got some food, if you wanna share,” You offer. Eddie’s smile returns too as he nods, and you and he sit, trying to get the momentum going again as Eddie orders a drink.
“So, you still play with the band?” You gesture to the stage. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.
“No, not anymore. We all got jobs and shit now. Assimilating into society, as it were. Gareth’s engaged, that’s fucking weird.” You both laugh at that, “I don’t know, it’s just crazy to think about. We used to be freaks. Remember when people called us Satanists and stuff? Thought Hellfire was a cult? Now we’re just average fucking chumps with Social Security accounts and shit.” You raise your eyebrows, nodding at the insanity of it all.
“Seems just yesterday we were running around the park after dark, passing around a joint and pushing each other on the swings.”
“Yeah! I remember that. Good times…” He flicks his eyes up, remembering. “I remember once, we were in Y/BBF/N’s pool, and you forgot your swimsuit…” He laughs, and you suddenly remember, and your hands fly to your face, embarrassed laughs spilling out of your mouth.
“Stop! I don’t need to relive that!” You grimace at the memory. Your best friend’s swimsuit didn’t fit, so you opted to just swim in your underwear. What’s the difference, really, anyway? Well, turns out swimsuits are easier to keep on underwater, and your panties slipped down your ass as you climbed the ladder. You’re lucky it was just the two of them, but both Eddie and your best friend called you “Full-Moon” for a month!
“No, no! You looked good! Flaunt what you got and all.” You feel heat rush to your cheeks as you both laugh uncomfortably.
“Yeah, just like that time your pants split right down the middle, and somebody was going commando that day!” You retort.
“Oh, fuck! I completely forgot about that! What were we doing?” Eddie laughs, his brows furrowed in thought as he takes a bite of potato.
“Um,” You rack your brain. “Oh, we were… We were at the apple orchard! You tried to lift Y/BFF/N on your shoulders so she could pick the one she wanted!” Recognition streaks across his face as he laughs.
“Yeah, that’s right! God, and I had to waddle back to the van with both of your jackets around my waist so no one would see!”
“Right! God, that was a great day…” You muse, the laughter subsiding.
You continue reminiscing all through the night, not parting until the bar closes at 1 A.M. You wrap Eddie in a tight hug as the bartender closes the door behind you, locking it and turning the light off. When you pull away, you sigh. “I’m so glad I ran into you, Ed.” Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. You don’t remember the last time you smiled this much, but you bet it was the last time you were here with him. He nods, his hands going to his pockets.
“Yeah, me too. But hey, now that you’re back permanently, we can hang out again. Just like old times.”
“I’d like that. Um, here’s my new number…” You rummage through your purse to find your new business cards you just had made and hand him one. “My personal number is on there, so just give me a shout whenever.” He raises his eyebrows at the card, handling it like it’s a precious photo he doesn’t want smudged.
“Wow! Impressive! Was this whole night just a ploy for me to…” He reads the card, squinting in the darkness. “Seek financial advice?” You both laugh.
“Obviously! I just need to reel in new clients so I’m stalking old friends. You caught me!” You raise your hands up as your face feigns guilt.
“Well, I don’t make enough money to have any left over for warranting advice, but you’ll be the first to know if I do!” He promises. You nod gratefully. “Well, anyway, where’s your car? I’ll walk you.” You thumb in the direction behind you toward your apartment building.
“I actually walked. I just live a couple blocks away.”
“I can give you a ride. I’m parked right there.” He points to a black sedan, definitely an upgrade from the van he drove when you were all in high school. You smile lightly and nod.
“I’d appreciate that, thanks.”
You walk to his car and get in, looking around a bit as Eddie hops in the driver's side. On the dashboard you see a picture, yellowed with time. You pick it up, holding the edges gently, though one side is torn, and see you and Eddie smiling in front of a stage, the Hideout stage, actually. It’s a photo from Corroded Coffin’s first gig there. The ripped edge is right where your best friend’s arm is linked with Eddie’s. You let out a little gasp.
“You still have this? I think I lost most of my photos when I moved to college. Though, they might be boxed up somewhere in my parents’ attic.” Eddie looks down with a tentative smile as he starts the ignition.
“Yeah… after things ended with Y/BFF/N, I got rid of a lot of stuff with her in it, but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of this one. So, I just modified it a bit.” You feel sad bringing Y/BFF/N up, but you can’t help but ask.
“Was it bad?” Eddie scoffs, flicking his eyes to the window.
“Yeah.” That’s all he has to say, and so you leave it there, not wanting to push him. You direct Eddie to your building and lean over the center console to hug him before getting out.
“Thanks for the ride, Ed.”
“No problem. I’ll call you soon, okay? Now that you’re back, I’m not letting you go again, got it?” You feel your heart jump unexpectedly at that, but you nod.
“Got it. I’ll talk to you soon. Goodnight!”
“Goodnight, Y/N.” You close the door behind you and wave as he drives away before turning and walking into the building and up to your apartment. As you close the door, you smile, remembering everything, and you realize that this is the happiest you’ve felt in a long time. As you get ready for bed, you can’t help but hope that Eddie will call sooner rather than later.
#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie x reader#eddie munson x reader fluff#stranger things#stranger things 4#eddie stranger things#stranger things fic
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You should see me in a crown - Chapter 5 (Y/N Grimes/Negan Smith)
AO3 LINK
Chapter 4 // Chapter 6
Masterlist
A/n: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want more. Also, I haven't written in this verse in literally years so I hope it feels cohesive. Let me know! I have one more chapter planned but not written yet so it may take a lil while. If you guys want more than that you have to let me know. Also, I have a Joel miller x reader in the works requested to me on tumblr. We have made it to 15 followers on tumblr lmao come join in the squad!
Y/N is like 20 in this and Negan is whatever age he is in season 7 so if that’s too much of an age gap please turn back!
Warnings: 18+ smut do not interact if not 18+ afab!you, daddy kink, kissing, age difference, abusive!Rick Grimes, protective Negan, sexual touching, oral sex, multiple orgasms, cumming untouched, facials, attempted orgasm denial
Summary: Negan expresses doubts and things look grim for a while until they don't.
When I wake up the next morning, Negan is gone from the bed. I figure he's probably busy running an empire, so it makes sense, but part of me is still a little sad I'm alone. I have imagined waking up in his arms so many times it feels a little disappointing to be on my own.
So I put on my clothes then enter into the living room area and there’s Negan eating breakfast and reviewing some maps at the dining table. He’s wearing these black reading glasses that make him look very sexy in my opinion.
He looks at me, lowering his glasses on the bridge of his nose, then back to his maps. He doesn't greet me.
That’s strange.
“Hey,” I say. “Are you mad at me or something?”
“What?” he asks breaking into a smirk, but his expression is distant. “Mad at ya? What makes you think that?”
Maybe I'm just overthinking things, but something in his vibe is definitely different. He's looking at me guiltily like he's my teacher about to tell me I'm failing tenth-grade English or something. Not like a guy who wants to fuck me.
“Nothing,” I mumble, forcing the thought away. “So what are we doing today?”
“I was thinking,” he begins, avoiding my eyes. “I think it’s time to get you back to Alexandria.”
“ What?” I spit, feeling like I've just been socked in the chest. I don’t believe this. “After everything I told you about Rick you think that's a good idea?”
“What? No, not like that,” he replies dismissively. “I’d beat the shit out of him first to get him to leave you alone and all and I’d always be there to reinforce the idea, but then I think you should get home to your family after.”
“Did I miss something?” I ask, thinking he’s kidding. “I thought it was cool to stay here for a while…”
I try to sit down in his lap, but he frowns and pushes me away lightly.
What the fuck?!
“Shit, do you not like me anymore?” I ask incredulously, so deeply hurt by his rejection I don’t even tear up. “I mean, are you embarrassed by me or something?”
“Listen, Y/N, I’m not one to beat around the bush: I'm ending things between us,” he says softly, avoiding my eyes. “It’s for your own goddamn good too, believe me.” He narrows his own eyes when he sees the disbelieving look on my face. “I mean we’re mortal fucking enemies for Christ sake!”
“That can’t be the reason!” I nearly shout, absolutely flabbergasted at this turn of events. “You didn’t care about that yesterday!” I shoot back, still not fully believing him. “This is bullshit. I know you like me.”
“Do you?” he asks in amusement, but perhaps also cruelly. “Yesterday you thought there was a distinct chance I was a goddamn evil supervillain who was manipulating the shit out of you to get to your dear old dad. Maybe that’s all this was.”
I swallow, studying his face. Is he telling the truth? He can’t be, can he? I know what we’ve been feeling is real, right? I’ve never liked someone as much as I’ve liked him. But then something clenches in my stomach.
“Is that why you won’t all-out fuck me?” I ask, dejectedly, my heart now in my throat. “Or let me see your dick? ‘Cause you never really liked me?”
That would make sense. Maybe he really did play me. I’m crying now too, my lip trembling. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. That’s just fan-fucking-tastic. But it would explain why he’s been so slow to have sex.
“Hey, don’t fucking cry!” Negan exclaims, panic and guilt covering his features. And then his light eyes turn into an even worse expression: pity. “We’ve only had a thing for like a couple of days! You can’t like me that much. What about your merry band of Alexandria men? The ones who wanna fuck you and all. How about them? What do you have to cry for?”
“Fuck you,” I say, rubbing the tears from my eyes. “I made them up. There are no guys back at Alexandria who want to fuck me. I made them up to make you jealous. Because I like you, okay? You make me feel so safe and special. I don’t believe you could fake how nice you’ve been to me. But tell me right now it was all fake and I’ll b-believe you I guess. I’ll leave you the fuck alone. I respect boundaries…”
I am straight-up ugly crying right now like a little kid and I wipe my nose on my sleeve, sniveling. Be more pathetic! I think to myself. But that asshole really did hurt my feelings.
“Maybe I happen to believe you’d be better off without me,” Negan begins slowly in his deep, gravelly voice, not really meeting my eyes. “Maybe I believe I’ll hurt someone as genuine as you.” He looks up at me. “I’m an asshole, Y/N, what can I say? I have five wives. And you’re just this kid with a shining light in her. I’d kill anyone who lays a finger on you and I’d never fucking live with myself if I hurt you or put that light out.”
Oh. So that’s what this is about. He’s scared of hurting me. I’m flattered, but he really is a fucking idiot!
“So then don’t hurt me,” I tell him. “It’s that simple. I mean, you asshole, breaking up with me — whatever this is — hurts so fucking bad. Don’t do it. And choose not to hurt me in the future. And then keep making that choice. You’re a smart and capable man. I think you can treat me right if you try. And what am I? Some of grandma’s fine fucking China? I can take a little heartache if need be. I’m not a pussy and you said it. And here’s the last thing I’ll say about this: you’re catching feelings for me. I know it. I see it in your eyes.”
He blinks at me funny and I know I’m right.
“Need to get your eyes checked then,” he mocks stubbornly.
“Fuck you, don’t push me away because you’re afraid,” I tell him.
“Fine,” he relents with a sigh. “Let’s just say, you may have a smart little brain in that hot fucking head of yours,” he admits, uncrossing his arms. “Maybe I am falling a little too fast. And maybe it fucking terrifies me.”
Aw, that’s actually really sweet! I knew the feelings I’m feeling weren’t one-sided. I wonder just how deep he’s fallen because I know I am head over heels. He just had to be a dick about it though…
“I haven’t felt this way since…” he trails off.
“Since Lucille?” I finish for him.
“Fuck. How’d you know, kid? It’s like you can read my goddamn mind. But yeah, since Lucille. She was a real spitfire, same as you. Only you’re a bit softer and sweeter. She would have liked you…” he trails off again, looking distantly into the past and over his bat which is lying on the chair next to him.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Negan,” I tell him honestly. “I bet I would have liked her too.”
He reaches out a big hand and ruffles my hair and I swat his hand away, grinning stupidly.
“So now that we’ve got that angsty shit out of the way, you won’t try to send me home now, right?” I ask. “And you’ll kiss and touch me again ‘till I can’t breathe?”
He looks like he’s trying to resist, but pats his lap and I sit in it, my heart beating quickly.
“Maybe just maybe you’ve convinced me to let this shenanigan continue,” he breathes into my ear and I shiver.
“Apologize for scaring me,” I command, grinding down on his lap.
He grunts in surprise and starts to get a little hard.
“I’m not big on apologies,” he tells me cockily. “Plus maybe you scare me a little.”
“In a good way?” I ask, grinding down on him again.
“In what I now think is a very good way. And maybe I’ll make it up to you right now for failing to see it from the start.”
He reaches his hand down my pants and starts rubbing my clit and I let out a whine.
“You know what would really hit the spot?” I ask as he works me, trying not to sound so absolutely wrecked by him. “And would prove your undying devotion to me?”
“What’s that?” he asks cockily, sticking a rough finger deep inside me and I moan. His finger is so big and fills me up so much compared to one of mine.
“If I could see your cock?” I whimper as he begins to finger me at an earth-shattering pace, in and out.
He grins.
“How do you ask, baby?”
“Please, Daddy can I see your cock?” I ask nicely.
He reaches his other hand down and undoes the button on his khakis and pulls out a very hard-looking dick. I may not have seen too many dicks in my day, but I do know a nice one when I see it. It is long and girthy and the reddish head is nearly purple. Goddamn. My mouth waters.
“Can I touch it?” I whine eagerly, now soaking wet.
“There’s my dirty girl,” he chuckles. “But not until you cum.”
“Well then get to work!” I challenge, grinding into his fingers, dripping down into his lap.
“With pleasure,” he chuckles. “Ride my fingers, baby.”
He rubs my clit some more with his thumb and then curls his finger deep inside me. I practically seize.
“Jesus,” he laughs, his eyes lighting up. “All this for just one finger?”
“And your dick,” I remind him, moaning. “How about another finger?”
“So greedy," he chuckles in approval. "But anything for you, baby girl.”
He does as he’s told and I feel so good and turned on I’m going to cum soon.
“Now, tell me what you like about old Negan Jr,” he commands, licking the shell of my ear, stroking his cock. “Since you were so goddamn eager to see him.”
“Do you mean your dick?” I snicker incredulously.
“At least I don’t call it my goddamned ‘meat wand’ or my ‘quivering’ fucking ‘manhood’ like I bet you read in some of those romance novels I saw in your bedroom. That could be arranged.”
“Shut up!” I snort, wanting to ask him how he knows so much about romance novels. “Keep fingering me, asshole,” I say because he’s stopped. He starts up again, hitting just the right spot. I let out a low moan. “But I’ll bite. Your cock is so hot and big, Daddy. I don’t know if it will fit in me.”
“You are very tight, princess,” he agrees, adding a third finger, pushing in and out of me so fast I see stars.
“And it looks like it will stretch me so well,” I whimper. “Can’t wait to suck it.”
Negan groans.
“Can I touch it now, please?” I whine, dangerously close to the edge.
“Not until you cum on Daddy’s hand. Go on, baby girl,” he tells me fondly.
He fingers me so hard and so fast I lean back into him and cum with a small sob, and he doesn’t stop until I am an oversensitive, spasming mess.
“N-negan!” I moan desperately, only a puddle of a human being at this point.
But even then he doesn’t stop, grinning a wicked grin, and I am riding over the edge again and I cum twice around his fingers as he hits that perfect spot inside of me, letting out a little scream.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” Negan grins in my ear as my body stops its spasming. “That was so hot.”
“That’s the first time I’ve cum from you,” I remark, panting. “But not the first time I’ve cum because of you. That felt so good, Negan. Way better than when I touch myself. Can I touch you now?”
“Anything for my dirty girl. Go on,” he teases as I look into his dancing hazel-brown eyes.
I reach down between my legs and stroke his throbbing cock and the soft flesh is hard as diamond.
He groans deeply, smiling at me stupidly.
“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for that,” he tells me. “Wanted it to be just right for you.”
“Me too,” I agree. “But it always would have been just right. Don’t you know?”
I spit into my hand and start working his cock and Negan moans appreciatively into my ear and my heart pounds deliciously.
“Feels so good, angel,” he whines in my ear. Precum is leaking down my fingers. The shaft and fat head are so swollen. I love when he calls me that.
“Can I put you in my mouth, Daddy?” I ask, reaching down to touch myself, even though I am so spent. Heat still surges between my legs.
“Are you sure, baby? Don’t wanna make you lift a finger,” he tells me seriously. “This is allegedly my apology to you.”
“Who said this was for your benefit?” I ask. “Plus maybe I like spoiling you too.”
“Well, aren’t you a goddamn sweetheart. If you insist…Fuck!” He groans as I get between his knees and bring the warm head to my mouth. “Shit, Y/N, I’m not gonna last if you keep sucking me like that. Taking me so well…”
I am so wet between my legs. He tastes so good and those hot little moans and groans he makes against me are driving me insane. I take as much of his length as I can fit in my mouth which is about three-quarters. The rest I jerk with my hands.
“I’m close, baby,” Negan grunts. “God, just looking at you. Can’t remember the last time I was this fast to cumming. But watching you cum from my fingers alone, twice no less. That just tickles my fucking balls! Literally. Fuck!” he grunts.
And just as he’s about to cum, I think, I pull off of him completely and squeeze his cock.
“Y/N?” he asks desperately, staring down at me, thrusting his cock into midair. “What the flying fuck—“
“Think you get to act like you’re leaving me and then cum? Dream on.” I announce, playing him at his own game, getting back at him from before. I let go of his cock.
Negan starts to laugh, but then his face contorts into a look of utter reverence and he cums anyway, untouched, squirting cum all over my face. That asshole!
Looks like I fucked up the timing or maybe he’s just that in control of his body...Goddamn.
“Oh my god!” Negan laughs through panting, when he calms down a little, his mouth wide open. He looks awed, almost starstruck. “That wasn’t on purpose, I swear! You’re just that hot I couldn’t fucking help it I guess!”
He throws his head back, snickering with laughter as I wipe cum out of my eye.
“You’re so fucking adorable I can’t get enough of you. Literally. First, you give me an amazing blowjob, and then you think you can play my game? But you just weren’t fast enough, baby. I love it! I told you no one will ever be as bad as me. Oh, come on, lighten up.”
“Maybe I’m smiling under all this jizz…” I say. “You wouldn’t know though. Now, help clean me off, you complete motherfucker.”
His eyes soften down at me and he takes off his undershirt to clean me up. He pulls me up into his lap, against his bare hairy chest.
“You’re a sweetheart. Truly.” He tells me. I lean against him so tightly I can hear his heart beating, not wanting to ever let go. “That’s part of why you scare me so much. I’m sorry I was a dick, alright? That shit about sending you home was dumb of me to even suggest when I care about you as much as I do. I think I just don’t know how to deal with how I feel about you, Y/N. It’s new for me.”
“You’re also just a dick,” I point out. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Haven’t cum like that in ages,” he tells me seriously, his voice vibrating through his body against my ear. “Just from looking at someone like that. You’re so beautiful, baby. Can’t believe you thought you could play me! But God, you looked so pretty with my cum on your face,” he muses. “That image is going in the spank bank for sure. Even if you ditch me for my dick behavior. It’s gonna be in the motherfucking spank bank hall of fame.”
“You’re so gross,” I inform him. “And a dick and a jerk and an asshole, but somehow I still like you. So I guess I’ll take you back.”
“Who said you ever let me go? I’ve got you fuckin’ wrapped, baby.”
He leans down to kiss me long and hard and I positively melt into his mouth and I know he’s right.
“Negan!” Simon suddenly calls from another room. I look up and sit up straighter and so does Negan. “Bossman, we have a goddamn visitor. You’ll never guess who it is…”
A/n: Can you guess who it is????
Feedback please or just leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed!!!!!! Chapter 6 will be coming soon but I have to finish writing it and know that people actually want me to post it.
Chapter 6
Masterlist
#negan x you#negan#negan smith#my fic#negan fanfiction#negan fanfic#negan/you#negan x reader#negan/reader#y/n grimes#rick grimes#negan x oc#the walking dead#twd negan#twd#negan smut#negan imagine#fanfiction#ao3#twd simon
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I'm so curious about the Declan was abused by a priest au 👀
my friend Cami and i can't help it, we just look at promiscuous characters with intense trust and intimacy issues and ask "is anybody gonna hc a history of sexual abuse here??" and then don't wait for an answer adlkjfgh
this verse -- (dubbed "the Wesleyverse", after our OC priest, Father Wesley) -- began with "and i am not gonna think about the reputation the catholic church has for sexual abuse of young boys because i have already delivered plenty of trauma and angst upon my boys and it also it feels uncouth alkdfjhadgf 😅 bUT ALSO" which was met with a resounding "I WENT THERE TOO" from Cami, and it spiraled from there
i'm just saying, a quiet self-sufficient anxious boy with an unstable home life and who has already had the importance of keeping secrets drilled into him would be very convenient for a sexual predator. socially isolated and emotionally unfulfilled. the ignored child, the overlooked, no one's favorite -- desperate for the validation and attention that he doesn't get from his parents, at least not the way he wants it. resentful of his brothers and their specialness.
Father Wesley made him feel special. like he was the important one for once, more important than all the other boys, more important than Ronan who he could've chosen instead. Father Wesley gave Declan all the attention and praise and reassurance that he craved, and all it took was playing some private games. secret and unpleasant and ever-escalating "games" that made Declan feel bad in a variety of ways, but Declan was used to that. cleaning up after dad's and Ronan's dreams were games, according to Aurora, and those made him feel bad too. those were unpleasant too. those made him afraid too. those were things he couldn't tell anyone about too.
how is a 6yo supposed to know the difference between a secret that should be kept and a secret that shouldn't be? a game he has to play behind closed doors whether he wants to or not and a game he needs to tell a trusted adult about?
(there aren't many adults he trusts anyway. who is supposed to be more trustworthy than their priest? Father Wesley speaks for god, doesn't he? he's the highest authority. right?)
so anyway. all that lasted a while, maybe from ages 6 to 8, when Father Wesley stopped wanting to play with him. it took months for Declan to realize that he wasn't coming back, that for better or for worse it was over. (relieved, yes. hurt, also yes. abandoned. unfavorite. if Father Wesley doesn't love him anymore, does it mean god doesn't either?) he put it behind him, labeled it as over and done with, and he did everything he could to bury it and pretend it never happened. he never told anyone and he never intended to.
it's been 11 years since the abuse stopped, Wesley's been retired from St Agnes for 5 or 6 years, a whole lot of shit has happened and life has been very busy for Declan (set post-TRK, more or less lol). things are finally calming down a little bit. the Gray Man has the underground shit handled for the time being, he and Matthew are back in town (because reasons, don't ask about georgetown, it's not important) and his relationship with Ronan is stabilizing. everything is fine.
and then Father Wesley gets arrested.
Gansey forwards the article to Ronan. Ronan shows it to Declan when he's stopped by monmouth for whatever reason, like holy shit, this is crazy, can you believe this??? fucked up, amirite??
doesn't notice at first that Declan has gone completely still.
it isn't until he mentions that the police are going through all the evidence to see if they can identify the victims -- indicating that it's not just, ya know, possession of materials from the internet, but actual production, records of his actual abuse -- that Declan fucking bolts. and Ronan is like UMMM?? DON'T LIKE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT
and here's the thing about the Lynch brothers. they may not get along. they may have a lot of water under the bridge. they may be liable to attack each other at the drop of a hat. but the second someone else attacks one of them? they close ranks. Ronan may not like his brother all that much but it's still HIS brother, thank you very much, his family, and anybody who lays a fucking hand on him is gonna suffer the consequences.
he has to chase Declan down. checks his condo, checks his work, checks the Barns, even calls Matthew to ask if he's seen him. finally finds him at the absolute LAST place he expected -- the church. it's late afternoon on a tuesday or something and there's no one else there. it's just Declan, alone in the sanctuary, with a rosary that Ronan hasn't seen him actually use in years.
Ronan doesn't remember ever having seen Declan cry before, and he's not crying now but it's obvious that he has been. that he's fighting to keep control of himself now. says he came here to be alone.
Ronan says fuck that, he's not just gonna leave.
after a minute, Declan abruptly sits up, suddenly blank and businesslike and steady, and he tells Ronan to ask his questions. which is.........disturbing, for Ronan. because he's seen this face before. he's seen it a dozen, a hundred, a thousand times. it's the cool detachment that's always rubbed Ronan the wrong way, earned Declan accusations of being an unfeeling robot, someone who just didn't care as much as Ronan did about anything or anyone.
had this face always had all this under it? could he really just pull it on over top of.........of ALL THIS and pretend that none of those feelings were there?? hide them that well?? fucking hell.
Ronan refuses to ask any questions. he has plenty, of course, but he's not here to interrogate him. (he doesn't even know how to put his questions into words anyway, fuck, he's just trying to wrap his head around it.) Declan said he wanted to be alone, obviously he doesn't wanna talk about it, so Ronan is gonna sit here with him for as long as Declan wants to be here, and later if Declan wants to talk about it then, then they can talk about it, and if not, they won't, and that's it.
it's silent for a few minutes as Ronan sits stubbornly and tries not to look, but out of the corner of his eye he can see as Declan's face crumbles bit by bit. as he fights so hard to keep his composure and, without opposition to set himself against, fails.
(he's not used to Ronan not pushing back, not being combative or accusatory. he definitely never expected support. and it's hitting him that Ronan knows. that pretty soon, everyone in town is going to know. Henrietta is a small town, it's a gossipy church community, they're only a few years off from when predatory priests were headline news all over the world, this is not staying quiet. and there's evidence. identifiable evidence and a police investigation and calls being made to victims. there is no way that his name is staying out of this no matter what he does. the situation is officially outside of his control, and that's terrifying.)
he's never cried in front of Ronan before, not since they were very small children, but even his prodigious repression skills have a failure point and he's reached it. he's curled in on himself and there are gasping, gulping sobs in the silence of the empty church, and Ronan eventually throws caution to the wind and does what he would do if it were Matthew. he puts a hand on Declan's back, just maintaining contact, proving that he's there and he's not leaving.
........
SO ANYWAY
this verse goes on and on, my anon friend, this is the set up and we just kept spinning out the thread for literally a year at this point, i think it was jan 2023 that we started talking about this concept 😂 it's not always one linear narrative, we branch off into "ooh i wanna see when X happens" in a patchwork kinda fashion, just rolling around in the sandbox and exploring the premise and also all the relationships and the way this particular trauma interacts with all the other traumas and also Ronan and Matthew's traumas and all their dynamics with each other.
Cami and i lean toward the self-indulgence of letting the Lynches actually make the occasional healthy and productive choice, because there is nothing more cathartic and satisfying to us than having them actually talk to each other, so by god these little fuckers are communicating in a semi-functional manner most of the time. they love each other, goddamn it, they're gonna fucking act like it. also about 30k in we finally got Declan into therapy 😂😂😂 good god he needs it, lmao.
.......i also accidentally got REALLY INVESTED in an OC, Jeremy, who was Father Wesley's next victim, the one he moved on to after Declan. i did not mean to start shipping Matthew and Jeremy, but here i am, a Meremy stan. i love them. #otp
so. lemme know if you want more, lol. i've got so so much more alkfdjh
#and the answer is#Anonymous#Declan Lynch#Ronan Lynch#TRC#fics by me#in a manner of speaking#wesleyverse#csa tw#rape tw
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Burning Rubber
F1 Masterlist
Burning Rubber Masterlist
Chapter Four
▶️4.2
Underground_Zenith
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Underground_Zenith: Feels good to be home. Inglewood I’ve missed you baby💙
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25 October 2023
ItsAzhaTheDrifter
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ItsAzhaTheDrifter: This year’s drift season is over. Time for a needed vacation. Some surprises to come next year in regards of the drift, stay tuned!
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> ItsAzhaTheDrifter: miss you guys too! I’ll be there soon
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carmenmmundt: La plus jolie fille💞
ItsAzhaTheDrifter: Tout ce que tu es bébé🥰
27 October 2023
ItsAzhaTheDrifter
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Tagged: Underground_Zephyr
ItsAzhaTheDrifter: logging off. See you all next year🫶🏽
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29 October 2023
Underground_Anubis
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Underground_Anubis: start to girls vacay🤪
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> underground_zenith: Jamari quit crying
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3 November 2023
Underground_Zephyr
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Underground_Zephyr: pretty best friends😝😗
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5 November 2023
Instagram Stories
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6 November 2023
#formula 1 x black!reader#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x oc#formula one x oc#formula 1 x you#formula one x you#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1#formula one#f1 x black!reader#x black!fem!reader#x black!reader#x black fem reader#x black reader#lando norris x black!reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x oc#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris#burning rubber#hookhausens chips#hookahausen’s chips#f1 x reader#x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x female driver
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