#and since season 2 aired tonight
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The Object Of All My Desires
Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader
Content: so much angst, unrequited feelings (or so law thinks!), pining, yearning, (verbal) fighting, cursing, reader refers to law as a “stalker”, which is valid tbh bc he’s being a little weird, but not really, strawhat reader
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: oh my god i spend so long on this and i just kept hitting mental roadblocks! but then, tonight i got the inspiration to write like ~500 words and finished it up. there were only meant to be 2 parts, but similar to the second season of bridgerton (which it’s inspired by) there will be a 3rd! (the 1st part is based on the first meeting of kate/anthony, this part is based on that entire pinning phase+the confesssion, and the last will be shorter and basically be a resolution of everything.) also, im looking for beta readers! pls dm or comment if you’re interested!!! and if you’d like to be tagged in the next lmk! thanks for reading <3
Part 1 • Part 3
The second time you and Law were around one another long enough to have to face the other and, god forbid, speak, would come 2 years after your first meeting. After all your training apart from your crew, you had finally united and started traveling together again. You and your nakama took on all the challenges Fishman Island had thrown at you and soon moved on to the next adventure: Punk Hazard. It was there you met the standoffish Captain of the Heart Pirates again, and he proposed an alliance to Luffy between your two crews. So here you are; in an alliance with a captain you’d managed to piss off 2 years ago, and who clearly still carries that grudge with him.
Law already doesn’t like being part of the alliance with Straw Hat- but you only make it 1000 times worse. It’s unbearable having to be on the same ship as you, let alone sit at the same table over meals or pass each other in hallways. Not to mention, you seem to make everything a competition. And he doesn’t want to be in as childish a feud as the one that the swordsman and the love cook have, but you’re forcing him to act that way. You’re absolutely insufferable, and how he ever found you remotely intriguing or pretty to begin with is beyond his comprehension.
And yet, Law can’t pull himself away from you, nor you from him. He lingers in dark hallways just to pass by you as you go about your errands on the ship. He stares long enough to burn holes through you, then turns away milliseconds before you catch him (or so he thinks.) But every time you approach the reserved man, he exudes an air of annoyance.
It all makes you wonder, “What’s his deal?” Besides your little tiff back in Sabaody 2 years ago, you’ve never done anything to offend him in his time on the Sunny… Maybe you just need to clear the air. Yeah, that’s it; confront Law and ensure there is no bad blood between the two of you. No grudges, just goodwill.
You hope.
~
The Strawhats and co (Law) are docked at a small island, just for a day or so. Frankly needs supplies, Sanji; ingredients, Chopper; medicine, Zoro; booze, etcetera. And since most of the others have something specific they’re in search of, you have a free day to explore and shop!
You bid Brooke goodbye and thank him for watching the ship, then make your way up the dock and into town. It’s a quaint area, but the market near the entrance of what resembles a town square is overflowing with interesting bits and baubles.
Though you are happy to have this time to yourself, you’re not alone. Law is a mere 20ish feet away. He doesn’t greet you or even make eye contact, instead choosing to lean into shadows and stand behind vendor booths. You can tell that he’s trying to go unnoticed, pretending to be interested in whatever wares the shopkeepers have for sale every time you turn back to check for him.
And it’s fine, for a while. This could be a good opportunity to try and talk to him and ensure that the two of you are on good, if not neutral terms. It’s a little strange that he’s following you now after the two of you have had close to no interactions during his week or so on board the Thousand Sunny, but you don’t mind.
You cannot, however, pass up the opportunity to harmlessly scare him when he gets momentarily distracted by one of the little shops. While Law is reading titles of comic books (how strange…), you double back so that when he looks up, he can’t find you. He scans the marketplace, but to no avail- you must have run off somewhere.
Then you tap his shoulder, and the man nearly jumps out of his skin as he whips his head around to see who it is.
“You really like stalking me, huh?”
“…I’m not stalking you.”
“No? Well, whatever you want to call it, it’s the second time it’s happened.”
“What are you-“
“Sabaody, 2 years ago.”
“I wasn’t stalking you then, either.”
“Fine; following me through at least 3 groves while trying to be quiet and stay out of sight.”
Law scoffs. “Whatever.”
“Hm…” You lean to the side to see what’s behind him; display shelves with various comic books. “What were you looking at?”
“Nothing, I wasn’t even looking here.”
“Ah, so it’s ok for you to lie to my face, but not me to you. Got it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
You nearly laugh. 2 years ago, after proceeding to follow you through several groves of the Archipelago, Law had insisted on knowing if you were a pirate or not, and the conversation had somehow escalated into an argument. It was a stupid little thing. But, you find it funny now, which is why you’re attempting to make jokes about the encounter and ensure him there are no hard feelings reserved over it. “Again, Sabaody.”
“Well… maybe you should stop carrying a grudge over that.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I only bring it up because I think it’s funny.”
“I think it’s childish.” Law doesn’t know why he says this, to be honest. He wants to come off as smart and witty, though he might not have executed it very well.
With a scoff, you cross your arms. “Law you’ve refused to even look at me in your time with my crew. When I try to talk to you, you act like you don’t hear me or straight up ignore me. Then you go and stare at me from across as if I can’t see you. And I’m childish?”
“Yeah, you are, and I don’t like you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Better than you being an awkward asshole with no explanations as to why.”
“I’m not fucking awkward, shut up.”
“Oh no, you just follow people around for the better part of an hour without talking to them. Very charming.”
Law huffs, unamused, and storms off without another word.
You sigh and continue browsing the stalls. “Ok, so, maybe there is some bad blood between us….”
~
Things are awkward between you and Law for the remainder of the evening. Not only is he avoiding you, but you’re also avoiding him. And though you still try your best to be at least a little friendly, he straight up ignores all of your attempts. Whereas before your little confrontation in the marketplace, the stoic man would have at least responded with an eye roll.
When it’s dinnertime, you take your seat next to Robin as usual. Casual conversation and laughter flow around the table easily and seemingly endlessly… until Law walks in. He sits in the only empty chair, next to Chopper’s, and nods at Sanji in thanks for the food. And you, foolishly, try to incorporate him into the conversation. Maybe you do it to try and heal the small rift between the two of you, or maybe you simply want to provoke him further (though you'd never admit it.)
“So, Law, how was your day?”
Everyone pauses their conversations to not-so-discreetly listen in. They had also recognized the growing tension between you and the ally captain, for seemingly no reason at all.
“Mind your own business.”
“Hard to do when you’re always in mine.”
He nearly spits out his drink.“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m starting to get sick of your behavior, y/n.”
“So sick that you just can’t seem to leave me alone?”
“Watch the way you speak to me-“
“My apologies Law, I’m so used to being watched by you rather than having conversations, I must have forgotten my manners-“
“Shut up!”
“Fuck you!”
Now that both of your voices are raised, the crew sees it fit to intervene.
“Watch how you speak to them, Trafalgar-“ Sanji warns.
Similarly, Robin tries to talk you down. “Y/n, he’s our ally-“
The attempts to calm what had nearly turned into a screaming match prove futile, as Law storms out. You scoff and cross your arms. He’s so infuriating, it makes you sick to your stomach.
Silence passes as your crewmates look between each other, none wanting to be the first to… console you? Admonish? Give advice.
“You two should talk, y/n.” Says Robin, ever so mature.
“If he wants to talk, he can come to me instead of constantly staring at me from across the deck without saying anything.”
“Well, he’s clearly not very good at showing it, but you realize that he likes you, don’t you?”
You blink and turn to look at her. This must be another one of her dark jokes. “Very funny, Robin.”
“Oh, y/n, come on!“ Usopp groans; he’s had enough of the yearning and tension. “You seriously didn’t know?”
“No! Because he doesn’t like me. He’s been holding a stupid grudge against me since the first time we met back in Sabaody-“
Nami backs up Usopp’s point; “A crush, y/n. He’s had a crush on you and he’s too shy to talk to you normally-“
“So, what, it’s ok for him to just watch from afar but then act like a jerk when I try and talk to him?”
Surprisingly, Chopper speaks up next. “…Maybe your intentions came off different than intended?”
This makes you bite your lip in thought. Perhaps they had.
Nami pats your shoulder, “Now, go work this out so the rest of us don’t have to deal with all your unresolved tension.”
You unintentionally pout; the last thing you want is to talk to Law right now. But, your crew urges you on, and all but pushes you out the door.
~
You find him pacing back and forth on the starboard deck of the Sunny.
“Law?”
He whips around and you swear you see his scowl become even more pronounced than usual. The crease between his brows deepens, as the corners of his lips turn into a borderline pout. “Not done tormenting me?
“Tormenting? I just… I came to talk to you.“
“I find that hard to believe. From the moment we met, you have been nothing but rude and a nuisance to me.”
You scoff, all plans of reconciliation forgotten. “Believe me, Law, the feeling is mutual.”
“Fuck off.”
“This is my ship, so why don’t you fuck off? Jump overboard for all I care.”
“Maybe I will if it gets me away from you.” Law turns on his heel and storms off the open deck and into a hallway.
“Good luck swimming, asshole!”
Your rebuttal brings him right back to his former position, face to face with you so that your screaming match can continue “I hope you know that every moment I have to spend on this ship is torture, y/n, all because of you.”
“I haven’t done shit to you, Law.”
“Then whose fault is it that I feel this way? Go on, name someone else so I can take it out on them instead.”
“It’s your fault if you feel any type of way about me besides amicably. I’ve been nothing but kind, and-“
“Bullshit. Whether you know it or not you’ve done… something to me, I can feel it.”
“Oh yeah? And since when do you know anything about how you feel, all you do is brood.”
“I don’t brood. And I know that you are the bane of my existence.” He spits back, making sure to emphasize the word bane.
You hold your breath, refusing to play into this childish argument any longer. Or maybe it’s because, even if it’s just a little, his words genuinely hurt. You realize then, that you don’t want to be the so called ‘bane of his existence.’ He takes your silence as an opportunity to continue, though at a much lower volume than before.
“… And the object of all my desires.”
After a moment of disbelief, your scowl turns to a raised brow. “Excuse me?”
“Every one of my waking hours is plagued by thoughts of you. It doesn’t help that I can’t go anywhere on this goddamned ship-“
“Don’t you talk about the Sunny that way-“
“- without seeing you!”
“Well you must enjoy being around me if you’ve decided I’m,” you create air quotations with your hands, “the object of all your desires.”
You feel so out of your depth now. All you know to do is to bite back with witty remarks, even when he opens up to you. And he seems to do the exact same.
“It’s a nuisance.”
Your lip trembles, but you refuse to cry in front of Law while he plays this sick mind game with you. “I didn’t know liking me was such an awful fate.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “There are so many other things I should be focused on, but all I think of is you. It’s not awful, but it’s making me weak.”
“You’re such a prick, Law.”
He’s bewildered, mouth gaping as he tries to understand what could’ve been wrong with what he’s just confessed to you. “I’m saying I like you, y/n, I- Do you hate me that much?”
“No, I don’t hate you, idiot! But you- when you started traveling with us, you made me feel like I had done something to offend you, and then when I confronted you about it in the market you started to really hold a grudge, then you - I just- that’s not how you treat people!”
“Y/n-“
“Are you messing with me right now, Law? Is this another play to try and gain the upper hand in this… ongoing thing we have?”
“No, I wouldn’t…” He trails off and shakes his head. He probably would, if he weren’t so enamored with you and on the condition he possessed the social skills to pull off such an elaborate scheme. “It’s not.”
You’re silent again, but both you and Law are refusing to break eye contact. He must notice your still watery eyes and trembling bottom lip because he steps forward. His hand travels to your arm, then your chin. Forced to look at him, you are pained to see a similar unhappy look in his eyes. Minus the tears. You could almost take him for sorry if it weren’t Trafalgar Law, of all people. So instead of falling into his arms like you suddenly feel a desperate need to; you step backward.
You fold your arms over your chest as you look off somewhere- anywhere besides his eyes. “Law, nothing good can come of this.”
“This? What is this, y/n?”
“These.. feelings.”
“You feel the same?”
“I didn’t ask to feel this way!” You bite back, “But… yes, I do.”
“So what should we do?”
“We aren’t going to do anything, Law. You just stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.”
“I thought you didn’t like that I was avoiding you?”
“Well now that I know why, what else can be done? Nothing can happen between us, Law. And we can’t allow feelings to complicate this alliance. I can’t allow that, at least; it’s too important to Luffy.”
He searches for reasoning that will trump yours but comes up with none. And so, with a heavy heart, he concedes. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Nothing happened.” Law confirms.
“And nothing will.”
You nod and start walking away. “Goodnight, Law.”
“Goodnight, y/n.”
And once you’re back safely in your room, the tears start to spill. You hate this- you hate him. You hate the way he makes you feel. You hate that you’re in love with him, and it took you this long to realize.
The tears don’t stop until you’re knocked out, and by the time you wake up, they’ve stained your cheeks.
Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake
#fanfic#one piece x reader#one piece#one piece x you#x reader#law x reader#law x you#law x y/n#trafalgar d law x reader#law angst#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law#straw hat reader#straw hat pirates
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⋆.ೃtreat me better ࿔*:･
paige Bueckers x fem!reader
words : 3k
themes :
-angst
-18+
-comfort
warnings :
-drinking
-slight sexual content
-homophobia
A/N - I got this idea at like 2 am and it took me three days to write it but I love it tbh.
No matter how close the game was, the girls will always go out after a win. Most times I choose to not tag along since i'll probably get pushed aside. This time Paige and the girls came home more excited than usual. They made it to the final four. I was laying on the couch watching a couple episodes of friends when the doorknob of my apartment shook open. The sound of Paige's keys jingling single handily lifted me off the couches cushions. My eyes lit up even more when Paige's bright eyes met with mine.
I was originally just a trainer for Paige when she tore her ACL but during all of that, I was also trying my best to improve my volleyball career. Once I realized that being Paige's trainer would lead to a bit more, I also realized that I would get invested in everything else. Now that she was healed I tagged along the other girls, helping them out when no one was there to help with their own injuries. Finally, the season was almost over. All the other people that helped out with the teams injuries were back and ready to work. So this was my chance to get back on the volleyball court and actually pursue something. Paige was there the whole way. Anytime I would push her away so that she could focus on her own goals she would say something along the lines of "you helped me so much y/n I can't just not give anything back" and I just couldn't say no when she had that sexy of a voice. Who said that. Everything was chill, me and Paige stayed friends and we helped each other reach our goals. It felt nice to have such a good friend by my side with all that I was going through.
Paige walked through the door and her bright blue eyes met mine. She had a couple tears of joy in her eyes ready to fall and once they did I was ready to gently wipe them away. I wrapped my arms around her torso while hers were lifting me up in the air. Wow she never did that before. A loud giggle left my mouth when i noticed that I was in the air now. The blondes arms had a tight grip on my waist, keeping me up with stability. When she finally let me down all she did was jump around the living room like a child. "Did you see me and Nika's blocks?" She yelled across the room while I stood in place with my hands on my hips. A very entertained look was on my face while I watched Paige leap through the living room. "Yes i did! I saw everything!" I rushed up to Paige to hold her in place and calm her down. Before I could pull her into another hug, our phones buzzed at the same time. Paige pulled hers out first and looked down at a text from KK asking if we were up for a party tonight. Without hesitation Paige grabbed onto my wrists and shook them around while begging for me to come with. "Are you serious Paige? We do this every time, i don't like parties...." Paige kept on whining while giving me puppy dog eyes. I guess this once wouldn't be bad.
WRONGGGG
So I gave in and went to my bathroom to get ready. Most of Paige's stuff was here already so she didn't bother going back to the teams house to get ready. I spent around 45 minutes getting ready. I don't know why. It's not like there would be anyone important there. It's just a party. Nothing more. I dragged the mascara wand against my eyelashes while blinking to dry them quicker. I took one last look in the mirror before going to my closet to pick out an outfit. My eyes were immediately drawn to a black tube top and some jean shorts. It was probably going to be cold outside so I grabbed a red zip up to cover my bare collarbones and shoulders. The only shoes I could find were my red converse which I was kind of lucky to have. I walked out of my walk-in closet to find Paige sitting on the edge of my bed, putting on a pair of shoes. The moment i stepped out, Paige's eyes were very obviously clinging to my body. She tried to hide the fact that she was staring hard at my top by complimenting me quickly. "Shit you look good! Everyone's gonna be on you..." Her words dragged on with very clear tones of jealousy. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a red button up flannel. Fuck me.
Once I had grabbed my purse and some lip balm, Paige held my hand while walking out the door and I locked it behind us. We walked over to Paige's car and the moment we got inside it was Drake on repeat. She sadly grabbed the aux before I could. The entire drive was filled with Paige's voice cracking every other lyric and me pretending to not know every line. The bar that the girls decided to be at seemed way nicer than the others. Of course I may have not been out either the girls a lot but the times that I was, most of the places they partied at were just a tad bit sketchy. Paige parked her car next to Aubrey's and stepped out of the car before brushing off her shirt by sliding her hands down her chest. She clearly wanted to look presentable. The second I heard Chase Atlantic playing on the speakers I couldn't resist from singing, almost screaming, to the lyrics. I waved to a couple of the girls who were sitting at a booth right ahead of me and Paige.
"What took ya'll so long?" KK said before shoving Paige's shoulder with a wide smile on her face. "This one did" Paige said gesturing behind her to me. "She must have someone to impress huh" Ice teased me while poking at my hip. I let out a forced laugh knowing that they were right. "Nuh uhhh. I just like doing my makeup to go out..." I lied quickly. Before anyone could make anymore remarks on how i cared about my appearance, Nika came around the corner with a plate of shots for everyone. I jumped up once she set down the cup and wrapped my arms around her back. "NIKA!" I squealed, clinging myself onto Nika's body. She leaned back a little, almost falling back from the intensity of my hug. "Woah! Heyyy!" Her arms settled around my waist, melting into my back. My eyes were shut against Nika's skin but when I opened them I saw Paige staring the both of us down with not an ounce of happiness on her face. I tried my best to not react but jesus it was hard. Is Paige Bueckers, my best friend, jealous that i'm hugging her teammate? Or am I just tweaking.
I stepped away from Nika and gave her a squeeze on her forearm before pulling Paige to the side and whispering to her. "You good? You looked pissed at me just right now." She did nothing but nod. Just a simple nod. She took a sip of her drink before going over to talk with Azzi. I looked around the building to see if there were any other girls scattered around the place but for the most part everyone seemed to be in the same place. I walked up to the table of our booth and took a shot before leaning my head on Paige's shoulder. Most people viewing from afar would think that we were dating but I swear we have no feelings for each other. Paige doesn't at least. I had been messing around with the short sleeve of Paige's flannel when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I spun around to find one of my old volleyball teammates staring at me. I didn't realize it was her until she gave me that 'bitch do you not know me' look. I gasped louder than ever before wrapping my arms around the girl. "Oh my God Liv?! What are you doing here?" I squealed while pulling myself out of the hug. "I transferred a couple months ago! I saw on your Instagram that you went here and decided to surprise you. Plus my boyfriend plays for the basketball team so..." I turned around to pull Paige over in Liv's direction to introduce the two girls. "Paige this is Liv!" I say, frantically tapping the blondes shoulder. "Remember we played volleyball together in high school?" Paige was silent but seemed chill. She just kept of nodding in agreement with the same enthusiasm I was giving her. "I'm gonna go catch up with her ok? Don't dance without me p!" I yelled out while walking across the bar to sit down with a couple of Liv's friends.
I ended up sitting between her and a brunette guy. I didn't want to rude, so I introduced myself to him before Liv could. "Hey I'm y/n." I held my hand out in front of the guy. He looked at me in the eye, making me notice that his eyes were even more blue than Paige's. Damn. He held onto my hand and shook it for what felt like longer than needed. He had a shy smile on his lips and did anything he could to not break eye contact with me. "I'm Carter." It felt like our hands were melting together before he pulled away to look at Liv. "Carter this is y/n!" Apparently me and Carter were quiet enough for people to not realize that we already knew each other by now. "Oh yeah she introduced herself already." He pointed his thumb to the side, motioning to me. A little time passed that was filled with mindless drunken conversations. My head had slowly fallen on Carter's shoulder and It took me by surprise when he didn't shove me off. So I pretended to sleep soundly when I was really listening in on whatever nonsense every what talking about now. I slowly tried to inch my arm through Carter's to loop our limbs together. This is when he knew that I wasn't asleep, he gently moved his arm away from his hip for me to fit my arms through before closing in on my arms. What the fuck am I doing. Now I tried my best to act tired when he tapped me "awake." I sat up and looked around while rubbing my eyes gently enough to not smudge any mascara. "I think I'm gonna head home now." Liv snapped her head to me and furrowed her eyebrows. "What why? We've only hung out for a little bit." She whined. "I don't know I'm just tired already." I groaned while standing up and grabbing my purse. I was about to leave when I felt Carter's strong hand hold onto mine while he lifted himself up. "Let me drive you home."
Me and Carter were halfway to exit when I remember that Paige was probably still waiting for me. Just as we were going to cross the booth that Paige and her team were at I changed my mind. "Actually Carter I'm sorry but I have a friend that goes home with me and I cant leave her alone." His expression changed immediately.
"I'm sure she'll be fine." He had his hand wrapped my wrist now.
"Seriously I would feel so shitty if I just left her." I laughed off what started to feel like fear.
"No. Come on stop being ridiculous, you need to get home." His hand started to tighten around my skin.
"Carter can you stop. Just let me go home with her." I started to try and shake my arm out of his grip.
"Y/n just fucking stop. Lets go." He tugged on my wrist, trying to lead me out the door. This was perfect timing for me to be in the girls' sight now.
"Shit! Carter let me go!" I stopped walking and stood still while trying to pry his hand off of my wrist.
Finally Paige looked up and saw what was going on. Not a single ounce of hesitation crossed her mind. She stood up and rushed over to me. "Hey man let her fucking go!" She stormed in Carter face while holding a hand around my waist, pulling me away from the brunette. Carter was startled away by the 5'11 girl that had just as much confidence and more than his own. I had a couple tear in my waterline but quickly got rid of them by blinking and wiping the wet streaks of of my face. "Woah back off, I'm just trying to take her home." Carter snapped at Paige. "No, fuck off." Paige turned around with me in her grasp and walked back over to the booth. Everyone but Caroline didn't even realize what just happened. "Fine, I wouldn't want to fuck a dyke anyway." Carter yelled back at both me and Paige. It took everything in me to not turn around and swing at Carter. So Paige did it for me. she threw a hard punch right at the brunettes nose, knocking him back against the floor. "Jesus Paige!" I wrapped my hands around both of her arms and pulled her away. Her adrenaline faded away in less than a second but I swear I could still see fume flowing out of her ears. She winced while rubbing her knuckle back and forth. "Lets go." Paige said coldly while look down at Carters now bloody face. I nodded silently before holding onto her hand and walking the two of us out the exit door. Surprisingly, Paige hand gotten even a little tipsy that night. As much as I didn't want to make her drive, I didn't want to get into a crash at 12 am so Paige drove me to my apartment and unlocked the door. "Paige no. come in." I refused to let her drop me off and deal with whatever anger was built up in her alone.
I practically dragged Paige out of the car and through my door. She seemed more drunk than I was right now. I walked her to my bathroom and tapped on the counter, gesturing for her to sit down on it. She lifted herself up and winced again after putting pressure of her wounded hand. Her legs were swinging back and forth while she fidgeted with her own thumbs and I grabbed a first-aid kit and some rubbing alcohol. Her legs were spread just enough for me to fit myself in-between. I rested against her thigh while holding her fist in my hand and gently swiping away the excess blood. "This is gonna hurt." Were the only words I let out from when she punched Carter to when we almost fell asleep. I dabbed a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol on the very tip of her knuckle, causing Paige's head to tilt back while she swayed her feet a bit more aggressively. "Shit!" she whined a bit before I pulled the cotton ball away and threw it in the trash can. Now that her fist was clean I could've just left it like that. I could've cleaned up the mess, put everything away and go to sleep. But of course I had to raise her hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on her knuckle. A lingering smell and taste of rubbing alcohol transferred to my lips but I tried to hide that. When I looked up, Paige's eye were locked onto mine. I did everything in me to attempt to look away but before I could I felt Paige's soft lips pressed into mine. I quickly got more comfortable with the kiss and slowly moved my hands to wrap around Paige's waist. I tilted my head to the side to perfectly fit her nose in between my eye socket and my own nose. She pulled away gently to look at me and protest what just happened. "I'm sorry-"
"Shut the fuck up."
I moved my hand up to Paige jawline and continued to wrap my lips around hers. I could feel that she didn't want to pull away but felt like she had the need to. "Sit up." I whispered through kisses and that she did. Paige stood up and moved her hands around my back, slowly moving them closer to my ass. I led her to my room and shut the door behind me before pushing her against the bed. I unlatched our lips to speak one more time.
"How long have you wanted to do this?"
"Long fucking time."
"I know."
I let my tongue slip in between Paige's lips, tangling itself with her own. Her hands were now running a long my back under my shirt. I pulled away for one last second to take of my shoes and jacket before fully crawling on top of Paige's lap and placing kisses down her neck and collarbones. Soft whines escaped the blondes mouth as I move closer to the opening of her flannel. Without removing my lips from her skin, I unbuttoned the flannel to reveal just a black sports bra. I looked up at Paige, giving her a look that was waiting for approval to take off her bra. She nodded eagerly giving me the chance to take it off. I couldn't help but stare at her tits before moving my lips further down her chest now reach her stomach. I traced my lips against each toned ab that she had. I could feel her stomach flexing against my mouth once I reached her bikini line. Now I gently unzipped her jeans and slipped them down her legs before tossing them to the side. The only noise I heard were the desperate whines leaving Paige's mouth, getting louder the lower I moved my lips. I practically tore her boxers off.
This is what I needed.
#paige bueckers#lesbian#basketball#uconn wbb#uconhuskies#smut#paigexreader#paige x reader#Paige bueckers smut
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To The Bone
Plot: You can’t stop shivering and Daryl can’t sleep. (Season 2-3 interim)
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Word Count:
1.2k (I can't believe I wrote something this short)
A/N: it has been so cold lately, hence this small, barely proof-read fic. I hope it gives u some warmth :*
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The farm fell and winter came.
There wasn’t a moment more heartbreaking to lose your home. Where the walls that fostered generations of Greenes would’ve warmed your heart, the cold and sprawling forest took their place.
Some nights the walls of a different home kept you warm. Homes that once belonged to people you would never know, absolute strangers that were just gone; dead or lost.
Tonight was not one of those nights.
Tonight, there were no strangers whose pictures still lined the walls— because there weren’t any walls. Only the forest and a small fire. Barely embers.
“They might see.”
Rick’s voice echoed in your head frequently these days. An hour wouldn’t pass before he had another demand to make. His last, before patrolling the camp’s boarders with T-Dog and Daryl, was to keep the fire down. Since the incident with Randall’s group and the herd that ripped through the farm, you had a pretty good guess who they were; the living and the dead. A fester of fear and exhaustion lodged in the back of your throat the night you lost the farm, and it’d kept you in line with Rick’s order since.
The fire was nothing but a soft glow. Enough light to see the colour of the fallen leaves beside your head, but that was it. No warmth and certainly no comfort was found in the glowing ashes.
Your shivering had started an hour ago and despite your best efforts to curl under the scratchy blanket, the damp floor of the forest chilled you to the bone. The others had fallen asleep by now, lulled by the aches of exhaustion and the body heat of their closest family, and if you hadn’t spent an extra hour on guard duty, you were sure Lori would’ve pulled you in alongside her and Carl. But the constant worries in your mind kept you awake and alert— so your guard shifts lingered longer and longer with each night, and by the time you retreated, your ‘bed’ for the night was only yours.
Months ago, when the farmhouse had been packed with suitcases and sleeping bags, you would’ve cherished the space. That was before the empty air became cold and bitter, biting at whatever slivers of exposed skin it could find.
Now, being alone felt almost like another type of fight. A struggle to just get through the night without catching frostnip.
There were footsteps ahead of you. It took a moment too long to register it— blame the exhaustion— but when you had, your mind was awake again. Light and calculated, they avoided the crunch of crisp fallen leaves like they knew the forest floor off by heart.
Daryl.
You knew it even before your eyes peeked open. Fighting against the weight of your eyelids, you narrowly watched his shadowy frame sneak through the sleeping bodies of your people, until he moved around the fire and behind you. Your eyes shut again and you listened for the soft rustle of him laying down a blanket.
Another shiver hit and your muscles clenched.
Beyond the clatter of your teeth, a second or two passed in silence. Eventually, your shiver subsided and your body relaxed again, but your jaw was still stiff from the frigid air. You yanked the blanket up further, covering you up to your red-tipped nose, and waited for the tension to pass.
Something touched your shoulder— a hand— and your head snapped to the side. It was Daryl, crouched behind you.
“’S jus’ me,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer.
In one swoop, he draped his blanket onto yours and laid down on his side beside you.
“Come ‘ere,” his voice was low. Not only quiet but soft, like he was worried it might break if he spoke any louder.
The blanket helped initially, you felt an extra layer of coziness engulf you, but when he finally moved closer...
It was almost instant, the way your body melted into his.
So tender and whole that every bit of you that had frozen from the constant death and heartbreak cracked open. It’d been months since you felt even a hint of comfort, since you’d even been touched beyond Maggie’s supportive hand at your shoulder. The way you curled into him was almost instinct; your nerves, once turned to ice, finally thawed again and felt.
Against your better wishes, your voice shuddered, “Are you sure?”
His arm snaked around you, pulling you closer by the waist.
“Can’t sleep with your teeth clatterin’ so loud.”
You huffed a breath, huddling your shaky fingers closer to your lips to catch a moment of the hot air. Even with his body heat sinking into your skin, your body was still stiff with the last effects of the chill, and you shivered once more.
He moved you— you couldn’t register where his hands touched specifically, but there were spots of heat up your arms and around your shoulders, like the touch of his skin was separated by thick gloves instead of the thin sweater you wore. You vaguely registered how cold your skin must’ve been for the sensation of his touch to be so numbed. Without any protest, nor much thought, you followed his directions, guiding you deeper into him. Even if it hadn’t been for that pesky crush of yours making you a willing listener of the man, his body heat alone was enough to convince you entirely. As long as you never had to feel that cold and disheartened again, you’d do whatever he asked. His hands stopped moving when you were facing him, forehead touching his chest and face almost completely hidden under the blanket.
Save those big, beautiful eyes that you looked up at him with.
“Thank you,” your voice was smothered under the thick fabric, but he knew what you meant from your stare alone.
He mumbled something, but you barely heard it, finding distraction in the way his chest rumbled with the effort— or the quick pound of his heart.
Daryl wasn’t particularly known as an affectionate man, hell, the stories you’d heard of his interactions with Merle sounded more like resentment than love. And for a while there, when he pulled away after Sophia, you wondered if he knew love existed beyond what his brother defined it as.
His pounding heart made sense, then. A life of inexperience didn’t give him the necessary bravado for sudden, almost intimate, contact with a person he only met a few months ago. No matter how necessary it might’ve been with the dropping temperature, holding you in his embrace seemed like an understandable source of nerves.
The feeling along your back, the slow rub of his thumb down your spine, became less fuzzy as your skin warmed up. By the time you lost your last chill, his heart slowed to a steady pace, and you could even feel the way he’d chewed his nail down to the edge through your shirt.
Thump.
When you inhaled, the air was still cold, but it was tolerable.
Thump.
His heat sunk into you, deeper with every beat of his heart.
Thump.
Daryl held you throughout his sleep. You weren’t sure how inviting your body could have been after hours of lonely shivers, but he held you closer and closer as the night passed.
Perhaps he just needed a little comfort, too.
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A/N: if daryl was ooc in this... no he wasn’t <3
also-- not sure if I should put a read more on this or not bc its so short... please lmk if it was taking up too much room in the tags/on ur dash :)
if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon / reader#daryl / reader#daryl dixon x you#The Walking Dead#twd fanfiction#Norman Reedus#daryl dixon imagine#norman reedus imagine#twd#madi writes
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Safe Place
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader
Summary: What starts as a night off alone escalates into some trouble in town. Luckily, when you’re employed by one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, backup is never too far away.
Tags/Warnings: category is- MUTUAL PINING[!!] they just don’t know it. mostly comfort/fluff. some violence in the beginning + 1 minor injury. mentions of alcohol and spice (cannabis) use. Reader is fadeddd most of the plot lmao. Protective/Soft Din 🥰 mentions of Force-sensitive Reader. also no Grogu today, it’s past his bedtime :(
Word Count: 8.6k
a/n: not me posting this on the cusp of season 3 finally premiering 💀 also this was supposed to be shorter but honestly, this thing got so out of hand so fast, idek why it drags on for as long as it does. but i was inspired by this very stoned prompt i thought of months ago with my favorite tin can babygirl and decided to finally finish it so. here we go. ✨
ps: i’m still trying out the 3rd person pov thing so lemme know if you hate it or not. also to settle any confusion amid the new szn, this takes place between s1 and 2 :)
Translation: Sen’ika = little bird
*
*
It’s supposed to be an easy night.
Mando is on a hunt and she’s been left in charge in his absence. Normally she would’ve argued coming along and you know, making herself useful as she’d originally agreed upon. But the Crest could only land so close and the additional foot travel was too long and treacherous for the Child to follow along. Plus Red trusted her enough to leave her alone with his foundling without making off with his ship and she had no other choice but to agree.
A few days had passed now since he’d departed. He estimated he’d return in about a week, so she was in no rush in waiting for him. Mando had settled them on the outskirts of town, far enough where they could lay low in peace but still close enough for her to make any emergency supply runs in town. She was left with everything she needed to care for the kid. And with specific instructions not to leave the Crest unless it was absolutely necessary.
Which is exactly what she decided to categorize this as.
The pair of double doors leading into the local cantina burst open and she stumbles back out into the streets, giggling to herself as she cradles a pair of warm cider bottles to-go in her pouch. She hadn’t planned on lingering at the bar but three drinks and a pair of shots with a group of local girls later, plans were changed. She was even invited out back to share a round of their spice joint, a generous offer she simply couldn’t refuse. She was now blissfully intoxicated and felt lighter and happier than she’d been in weeks.
The kid had finally settled in earlier and if his recent patterns served her correctly, he’d be down for the rest of the night. She was finally alone, a privilege she found extremely rare these days since joining Mando’s crew, which gave her ample time to wander into town. Was it responsible of her to leave the Crest and the kid alone? Most would argue it wasn’t, Red most of all. But he wasn’t here to say no! Plus, she had locked the ship down to keep the kid inside and protected from any potential stragglers. All goes well, she would be in and out before he woke up.
And she was confident about this because she’d already gone out just last night. Sure, she hadn’t been out this long, but again, Mando wasn’t expected anytime soon.
She liked exploring towns. It gave her a reason to not only scope out her environment, but to familiarize herself with the locals and figure out which spots in town were traveler-friendly. It was easy to wander when she was on her own, but now that she was a full-time employee, it had become somewhat of a rare treat.
It was week’s end for these particular folks, which meant most of them were out in droves tonight. She could still hear the fits of laughter and drunken serenades belting out of the cantina behind her as she walked away. The air was far cooler at night and the refreshing taste of it in her lungs gave her cloudy head the clearance it needed.
She was delightfully drunk and probably just as high, but she was conscious enough to know she needed to get back. Leaving the kid alone for a couple of hours was fine, but stretching it out any longer than that was far too much of a risk. Live music was playing somewhere from around the corner, locals dashing around her as they hopped from one cantina to another.
The energy buzzed around her like an electric current, yet she walked with a familiar ease. She felt oddly safe within the center of town. But as she drifted further into the outskirts, the street lamps dulled and the crowds thinned out. A pair of fraternal moons became her guiding light as she willed herself to remember the path back to the Crest.
And for a while, it was fine. Despite the silence, she couldn’t help but feel a bit more on edge out here alone than when she was surrounded by a bunch of drunk miners. She ignored it though, trying to tell herself it was probably the spice making her antsy. But the farther she walked, the longer her paranoia festered and itched and scratched until she realized it wasn’t the libations talking to her.
It was the Force.
She realized too late she was being followed until just before she was confronted. A Balosar male slinks out from an alleyway behind her, long and slim with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized coat. She wills herself to keep her eyes straight ahead but she could hear him glide over to her side to match her stride.
“Where ya goin’ sugar? The party’s that way!” he drawled, sending an immediate chill up her spine. Shit.
“I know where I’m going,” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to brush past him. “Have a good night.”
He reacts by slipping around her once more, this time blocking her path directly ahead. “Whoa whoa, take it easy!” His accent is thick and laced in what she can only describe as mock-innocence. “Relaax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt here!”
Her facial expressions remain unmoved, glancing up at him boredly. In reality though, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. The last thing she needed, especially right now, was unwanted attention from anybody, let alone from this total stranger. She moves to step forward but he cuts in her way, a sly grin stretching across his face.
“It’s okay baby,” Her stomach internally caved in at the pet name. “just tryna find where the cool people hang out.”
“Wouldn’t know where to point you to.” she replies flatly, straightening her back. “Excuse me.”
She attempts to move around him again, but his arm comes up to lay on the wall next to her and he leans forward to cave her in. “Where’re you from then? I’ve never seen anyone this pretty so far out here.” His free hand inches towards her face but she’s quick to turn her cheek, her jaw clenching behind her lips.
“And you never will.” she snaps back, already inching backwards.
This only prompts him to step closer, a frown crossing his slimy face. “Ey, you don’t have to be a bitch.” His tone switches almost predictably and her hand slips behind her cloak to reach for her holster.
“Back off.” she snarls him a warning with the coldest glare she can make.
He tries reclosing the gap between them again. “C’monn honey- ”
“NO.” Her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and she fully pushes her weight on him to shove him down. Her stand off is cut short though when he finds his balance and pushes back. She’s thrown back against the wall and before she can even process it, a pocket knife is jabbed against the skin of her neck.
Shadows move over his shoulder in her peripheral vision and when she follows them, 3 more Balosars creep out of the dark, hovering behind the first one in a sort of half circle around her.
It’s at this moment that she realizes 2 distinct things. Firstly, she doesn’t recognize them. In her 4 or so days since they touched down, she’d observed the villagers in her down time and gathered a very broad consensus of who was who— and in that time, she hadn't seen any Balosars in this town, which told her they were also just passing by. Secondly, she thinks as she watches the other 3 close in, she’s tangled herself in a very complicated web here. It was 4 against 1, with a notable size difference amongst all of them. She couldn’t see straight, was hilariously underprepared for a fight given the company she was currently keeping, she was fucked up and only growing more inebriated as her vices soaked into her bloodstream, and she was alone. No baby, no bar friends, no civilian witnesses.
No Mando.
Fuck.
A strangled little noise escapes her throat when the knife is pinched further into her skin and she curses herself at how whimpered it comes out.
“Fine, since you wanna do this the hard way..” the first Bathosar sneers almost mockingly, his frame towering over her own.
She’s curling into the overcast of her cloak when her fingers finally find the handle of her blaster, skin digging tightly into the cool of the metal. She looks into his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before the tension snaps.
Fuck it.
In an instant, a shot zaps out, aimed directly at his foot. He cries out when it makes contact, and she smashes her blaster across his temple when he folds over in distracted pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Despite her inebriation, she can sense the others jumping into action and she points her gun at the closest one, shooting him right in his chest before he can get any closer. She doesn’t have time to watch his body crumple to the floor as she turns to shoot at the other two, a rapid succession of plasma bolts whizzing out almost desperately. Her second target barely misses her line of fire and as she follows his trail, she fails to block the third Balosar from tackling her into the wall. She cries out as he harshly elbows her wrist to disarm her, the blaster forced out of her hand.
“Grab her!” She hears her attacker hiss from above her before she’s suddenly snatched from behind. Her arms are pinned to her sides as she’s grabbed and lifted several inches off the ground.
Her heart is pounding, blood pumping into her ears as she yells out. Her feet start kicking furiously in an instant, every functional instinct left in her telling her to fight back. “Get off me!” she shrieks, flailing until her boot finally connects with a knee. She hears him yelp behind her, his grip slipping. She jabs her elbow fully into his nose, sending them both tumbling.
Two separate voices are shouting incoherently above her in a blend of confusion and exasperation. She can see her blaster just feet away and she starts crawling, scrambling in a desperate effort to reach it, until she’s yanked backwards by her ankle.
“Pin her down.” she hears one of them growl maliciously from above.
Her stomach turns as she’s dragged back into her assailant’s grip, trails of her fingernails digging into the dirt floor. She feels her brain short-circulating in its panic so she resorts to one last defense tactic.
She starts screaming.
And it’s a shriek that’s piercing and raw and louder than she was planning it to be. But she screams anyway in hopes that anyone within the block can at least hear her, even if it’s another drunken villager on their way home.
“Shut her up!” A second voice hisses hastily, hands scrambling to smother her.
“NO- ” She bites down on the first hand that touches her face and only squeals louder, her pitch jumping another octave in her hysteria. She starts kicking again, nails scrambling in the dirt for a spare rock, a glass shard, anything physical to grab in her defense. When her palms only fill with clumps of dirt and sand, she clenches her fists around them anyway.
What started as a dreamy, whimsical high has quickly soured into a debilitating panic trip. Rather than floating in euphoric bliss, she feels tranquilized, her focus and motor skills severely hindered and overpowered by these 3 much larger adversaries. Her stomach is turning over under her ribs, waves of nausea churning with her rising panic. Her heart is pounding too fast she feels, and her lungs are tightly clenched despite how fast she’s gasping for air.
She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s flipped on her back, the welling tears spilling down her temples. Before she can scream again, a balled up handkerchief is forced into her mouth. Two of them meanwhile, are putting their full weight down on her to pin her limbs to the ground. The first one is limping over to them, his knife recovered in his hand while patches of fresh blood trail behind his injured foot. She audibly whimpers now, wriggling in their grasp like a drowning fish.
“You know.. I was gonna let you go after all this,” he starts, turning his blade over in his hand as if to inspect it. “But that was before I believed the rumors.” He pauses here, and the dread is only momentarily overwhelmed by her instinctive curiosity. “I mean- we all knew the bounty’s primary target was a Mandalorian with a green pet- ” Her stomach drops. “ -but there was no mention anywhere about his pretty little accomplice.”
She rustles again as he looms over her. “And I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think it was true at all. I mean, a Mandalorian with a business partner? And a girl at that!?” He almost laughs before he pivots. “But then we sees’ you in town, carryin’ this little guy around, and we think, maybe there’s some truth in all this, ya know?” Her stomach sinks even lower at the realization that they not only spotted her with the kid, but that they’d been watching her this whole time too.
Double fuck.
Suddenly, he’s kneeling in front of her, his injured foot tucked behind his knee, and she’s roughly sat up to face him by the snatch of her hair. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” She grunts helplessly when his blade is pressed deeper against her neck as the three men crowd around her. “you’re gonna point me in the direction of the gremlin, you’re gonna watch us shoot his kidnapper, and then, and only then, will I finally kill you myself.”
Her brows crease in pain as she tries to pull away from his blade, but the hand twisted in the back of her hair only pushes her into it. The handkerchief is yanked out for her to answer and his head tilts to catch her eyes. “So?” he snaps. “What’s it gonna be? Now or later?”
Her eyes harden, nostrils flaring. Honestly, right now, she just wants to tell him to fuck off. It’s not like this was her first time being mugged and/or threatened, and unfortunately not while inebriated either. But this one felt pretty damn close to getting got. Her brain is already scrambling between scattered half-assed theories on how to get her out of this.
Fw-ip !
A whizzing sound passes under her and it’s so subtle, she almost doesn’t notice it. Then there’s a pause of silence that’s almost too heavy to be coming from nothing before she notices that the first guy’s eyes have blown wide open. They make eye contact and she squints, almost confused.
Suddenly, he’s thrown back and he starts screaming before she realizes he’s being yanked into the shadows by his wounded foot. She can hear the mechanical whizzing again as he’s dragged, even over his friends’ shouting, and it takes another split second for her to realize it’s a whipcord. And just like that, the Force alerts her that she’s not alone again. But instead of dread, something else flutters in her gut.
The Balosar’s screams are cut short by a single blaster shot, and she inhales a gasp of air before a chill crawls up her spine.
Two heavy, familiar boot steps clunk in front of them as its owner steps into the dim lighting.
She exhales and pure euphoria blooms in her chest.
He’s towering over them, broad shoulders stiff and gloved hands clenched into iron fists, his armor gleaming like a beacon even in the cover of night.
She can’t stop the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Mando..-”
“Kill him!” One of the Balosars yanks her back into his chest as his friend scrambles to his feet, blaster already in hand. She squeaks and the sound seems to snap Mando into full action. She’s yanked to her feet as his arm wrangles itself around her neck.
From here though, she can see her Mandalorian in his full glory. She watches him stalking towards his prey, blaster bolts bouncing off his beskar like raindrops as the other guy empties his clip into him. And of course, when that doesn’t work, he headbutts him to stun him before striking. Despite the weight of his armor, Mando moves like a viper and is just as deadly.
She feels herself being dragged away and she grunts in protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s then she remembers one hand is still clenched. Without a second thought, she swings backwards, smacking the guy right in the face as she temporarily blinds him with a fistful of dirt.
“Agh- !” He shouts and she slips out his grip. She starts towards Mando, but then she’s grabbed by her hair and is yanked backwards with a cry. “Fuckin’ bitch- !” She hears him snarl before the back of his hand strikes her directly across her cheek.
She drops against the brick wall behind her, his body towering her, but from the corner of her eye, she spots Mando. The second guy is now motionless on the floor and his helmet is fully trained on the last one. And based on the swell of his chest and how hard he’s breathing now, she doesn’t need to gauge anything else; he just saw what he did and he’s furious.
He crosses the space between them and drags him backwards and away from her. The Balosar starts fighting back but he's quickly overpowered as he’s disarmed with an unnatural twist of his wrist. Mando spins him around and lands a punch directly into his face once, twice, thrice and then a final fourth blow before the guy falls to his knees. And it’s there that he goes for the kill, grabbing his head with both gloved hands and snapping his neck with an enraged grunt and a sickening crunch.
She watches the final body crumple to the floor with blown out eyes and her jaw fully dropped. She’s physically shaking, she realizes, and can barely breathe, let alone stand on her own. But when Mando finally turns to her, his chest rising and falling, she clings to the wall behind her to gather herself back up.
“What the hell happened??” Mando’s tone is harsh and agitated, even under his modulated panting. “You weren’t on the ship when I-”
He’s cut off when she runs straight into his arms. She all but collapses into his chest, arms coiled around his neck and her face smothered into his cowl. Before he can even process what’s happening, she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re earlyy!” She’s practically beaming up at him, one of her hands tracing the cheekbone of his helmet.
He’s speechless. First, a hug. And now she’s.. glad to see him? Not to mention how she’s smiling up at him with those big, adoring puppy-dog eyes. She’s never been this nice to him before, not even around the Child. “I- ” he hesitates before clearing his throat. “ -Yes. The target uh, took less time than I thought.”
This only makes her smile wider before she buries herself in him again. This time, her arms slip around his back, her cheek leaning into his chest plate. She could care less about how the edges of his armor were pinching into her skin, or how his fully loaded bandolier was pressed very uncomfortably into her collarbone. All that mattered to her right now, was this. “I’m so happy you’re here.” she all but whimpers, closing her eyes to savor the coolness of his beskar and the familiar scent of metal and gun smoke.
Now Mando was really stunned. But he can also feel the physical tremble in her muscles and the speed of her pulse, so he relents with a long sigh before a single arm drapes around her back. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone much softer this time.
She nods into his chest before pulling away again. “Y-Yeah I just- ” she takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale. “ -that was.. too close..”
“What happened?” He decides to ask again. “Are you hurt?” His hands quickly pat her down as if checking her for any other injuries before one of them comes up to gently cup her chin. He carefully tilts her face to get a better view of her red cheek and it doesn’t go unnoticed when she refuses to make eye contact. His helmet tilts ever so slightly. “Sen’ika..”
Her lips press together and her brows furrow as she flinches. “Well..”
“Did they kidnap you?” He asks, his other hand gesturing towards the 3 bodies behind him.
This makes her head snap back up. “No! No, they had no idea where I was staying. They were just trying to follow me back t..” she trails off the moment her brain catches up to her lips, and now that she’s face-to-face with him, she can practically feel Mando’s visor burning a hole into her forehead.
The pause between them stretches out uncomfortably before he finally speaks. “Where did you go?” His voice makes her insides squirm, like a teenager getting caught out after curfew.
“Uh..” She starts and suddenly she’s become hyper-aware of how hot her face is. She can’t remember the last time he was this close to her, and the realization of this somehow makes her self-conscious. She’s also still remarkably faded, too faded in fact to fake any semblance of sobriety. And if he’s already here, there’s really no point in lying to him, he’s way too smart for that. “..the bar.” she finally finishes meekly.
His shoulders slump as he exhales. “You got drunk?” he asks incredulously.
Her face brightens in embarrassment. “Okay, look- ” she starts and she can practically hear him groan under his helmet as he looks up to the sky. “-to be fair, I only went after the kid passed out, cause I knew he wouldn’t wake up.”
When she looks up, his helmet only tilts to the side, a silent move that only prompts her to keep going. “Ok, so there’s this pattern I’ve noticed, so when you give him a full meal and a glass of warm milk, and then you just let him play with his toys and get him to make them float around the room, after a certain time, he’ll get super tired and, like, fully sleep through the night. And I know that sounds like the most basic excuse in the book but I swear I tested this three nights in a row and it worked every time, okay so I wasn’t being totally stupid..”
She doesn’t realize how long she’s been rambling until she glances up again. He’s now leaned in closer to her, and for a moment she thinks he’s examining her cheek again. What she doesn’t realize is how carefully he’s looking into her eyes. He can tell she’s been drinking by now, and despite the trauma of the attempted assault on her just now, her eyes are still way too bloodshot to just be the liquor. Not to mention the hint of another smell on her..
She inhales sharply through her nose when she feels his gloved hands slip over her own. She gazes into his visor, as if straining to look for a pair of eyes behind it and leans in ever so slightly. She’s never been as curious to see what his expression looks like as she is right now. Her face softens as she stares up at him. “Mando..?” Her voice is just above a whisper and oh-so delicate.
She can feel his thumbs gently press into the pulse points of her wrists as he stares at her, and the surprising warmth of his touch makes butterflies flutter in her ribs. And just before she can open her mouth to call out to him again, he leans directly into her eye level.
“Are you high?” He’s audibly confused.
Her eyes turn into saucers in silent panic and it’s here that he can see her pupils are blown wide open.
“…Uhhhh…”
He sighs heavily as his head drops in defeat. It’s the only answer he needs.
“Okay,” he relents as he lets go of her. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”
He immediately stiffens once the words slip out. Oh, fuck fuck fuck.
No Din, no! This was temporary, remember?? She’d only made that abundantly clear the day she stepped foot on the Crest with a single bag and 2 datapads. It was always a mutual agreement though: she was to join him on the Crest to work full-time on tracking down a Jedi, with a deadline of at least a couple of months before he was to drop her off at a new planet of residency of her choosing. After all, she’d only just begun resettling her life and it was a path she intended to follow through on her own. Din understood this partnership was fleeting and it was unfair of him to call this ‘home’, yet for some reason, he insisted on slipping up in little moments like this again and again.
Though based on the glazed, clueless look in her eyes, she didn’t notice at all. “Okay.” she simply says, turning around to scan the alley for her belongings. As she skirts off in one direction, Din sees her blaster laying just a couple of feet away. He picks it up for her when a loud clanging catches his attention.
“Hey!” She calls out, straining to pull her bag out from under one of the bodies. Once she rolls him off with a kick of her foot, she holds up her bag and pulls out one of the sources of the noise. “Look, the cider survived!”
His helmet tilts almost disapprovingly, but he does nothing else as he holds her blaster out to her. “C’mon.” he all but huffs impatiently.
“Okay okay, sorryy- ” she slurs, stumbling over the same body as she returns and accepts her blaster. “One of these are yours ya know!” Mando is already walking away as she’s throwing her up bag over her shoulder, and she has to scramble to keep up with him, a move that makes her trip on her own two feet.
His helmet tilts over his shoulder at her. “Can you walk?” She’s not sure if it’s meant to sound demeaning or not, but it makes her puff her chest as she pouts at him.
“Of course I can walk!” she shoots back. “You’re just going too fast.” He grunts in response, helmet facing forward again and continues his pace. She’s not sure if it’s the spice but his strides feel more rushed than usual. His shoulders are also still fully straight, she notices and something tugs in her chest as she tries getting a sense of what his body language is telling her. She’s only a step or two behind him, and her eyes wander to the floor in front of her, the words spilling out before she can stop herself. “..are you mad at me?”
She almost sounds like a child, remorseful and heavy with guilt and she already hates how it comes out. But what punches harder is his response. Or his lack of it. Because he simply keeps walking at the same pace, fully ignoring her. No grunt, no hum, not even a sigh. And for some reason, this makes her ache. She stumbles over her own feet again and almost instantly she can feel tears threatening to well under the skin of her cheeks. She wants to curse herself for getting emotional, but it has to be liquor making her moods swing so drastically, she tells herself. Not that this thought doesn’t stop her from speaking again.
“I’m fired aren’t I- ”
Before she can blink, she runs face-first into a wall of beskar as he stops abruptly. She can’t help but yelp as she clutches her now-throbbing nose and when she looks back up, he’s turning to face her again. He stares at her until the silence frays at her nerves, and just when she can feel her face burning up to her ears, she hears a soft exhale from his modulator.
“C’mon,” his voice is soft as his right arm slightly pokes out towards her. “I can hear you tripping around from up here.”
Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Are you makin’ fun of me?” she asks.
“Does it sound like I am?”
Her eyes narrow this time. “Mayybe.” she coos. But she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and is silently delighted when he tucks her against his side. She finds it much easier to match his walk now and she can’t help the jump in her pulse as she’s pressed closer to him. In fact, she has to bite her lip to stop the silly grin threatening to spread across her cheeks. They walk in comfortable silence for a while before her spinning brain comes up with another enquiry.
“Mando?”
“Hm?” His response is barely registered under his modulator.
“How’d you find me?”
For a moment, Din doesn’t answer. And it’s not for the lack of one either. He’s just not sure where to begin. Does he start when he first re-entered the Crest to find the kid safe and sound but with her nowhere in sight? Or when he went back outside in hopes that she was on the roof stargazing or fiddling with the ship. Or when he started speed-walking through the nearby alleys because now he really couldn’t find her and just before his panic could bubble over, a single sound just yards away made his heart stop before he jump-started into a full sprint for her.
“I heard you scream.” he eventually replies and it almost sounds like his teeth are pressed together under that helmet.
She smiles at that. My hero. She almost wants to swoon until he speaks up again.
“I’ve warned you about being alone Sen’ika,” His tone is still soft, but firmer this time. She flinches and tucks her face down from him, nodding once.
“I know, I- ” her head swirls at the pang of shame but she swallows the urge to say anything other than what was necessary here. “I’m sorry.”
Another pause of silence. She decides to focus on their footsteps instead. There was something about the synchronized crunch of gravel under their boots that just satisfied every single sense in her. And it isn’t until she looks up and gets a full glimpse of the night sky that she realizes the spice is still very much in her system, unnatural neon lights and shapes bouncing across the stars. She stares in drunken awe up at them for a little too long and when she sees the Crest finally back in eyesight, she practically deflates in relief.
“Hey,” Then, Mando gently slides his arm out of their loop, leather ghosting down the length of her arm until he cups his palm over her fisted hand. “What matters to me most is that you’re safe,” he says softly. His visor turns to her, and he slowly opens her hand to slide his own into her palm. His gloved thumb gently squeezes her knuckles in what she can only gather as reassurance. “Okay?” His tone is so warm, it’s almost tender.
It catches her so far off guard, she’s pretty sure she short-circuited and is only still breathing on emergency autopilot. Her cheeks flush up and her eyes are blown wide open in the same sweet doe-like expression he adores so much, that he can’t help but smile behind the safety of his helmet. She blinks and she almost resets, clearing her throat as she looks straight ahead. She’s still blushing as she smiles and nods once. “Okay.” she replies sweetly.
Even his gloves are impenetrable, thick and almost twice as large in size. But she can still feel a warmth radiating from the other side against her skin. Suddenly feeling brave, she shifts, slipping through his gloves and slowly linking their fingers together. Mando stiffens at first, until her nails sink into the shape of his knuckles, and he internally melts. Before he can process his own reaction, he squeezes back, his thumb gently stroking over her own.
She looks up again, grinning from ear to ear. Clouds are dancing in her vision, stars swelling and shrinking in size across the painted skies. She dares herself to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead thankfully, only semi-lit under the glow of the moons, but his beskar has never been more radiant. The same colors in her eyes bounce off the high points of his armor, illuminating him in an almost ethereal glow. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering. He’s perfectly shaped from every angle. He stands tall and proud, and walks with an effortless swagger so few could replicate. His mere presence can shift the focus of an entire room. He’s daunting and striking and is the picture of discipline and strength. Yet he cradles her hand in his like she’s made of glass. She’s never seen anything past the chiseled cut of his helmet, yet he’s never looked more beautiful in her eyes right now. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she is right now; with stars in her eyes and the softest, most affectionate little smile spreading from cheek to flushed cheek.
“You’re so pretty~” she slurs out in the sweetest tone. From behind his beskar, Din’s heart jumps into his throat.
“You’re drunker than I thought.” He doesn’t skip a beat though, somehow keeping his tone flat and neutral.
“It’s still truee,” she shoots back, leaning against his side with a wide grin. “It’s always been true!”
He glances at her wordlessly and she smiles back at herself through his visor. He’s not sure what to say to that, if anything, he’s too flustered to think of a rebuttal. He’s never been called pretty by anyone, even as a joke. Eventually he clears his throat and looks away and she only grins wider. Did she just leave him speechless? She can’t help but try to read his body language for any hints.
BONK.
Unfortunately she’s so distracted by the dancing Mudhorn on his pauldron that she fully trips on the descending base of the Crest’s ramp. The only thing that stops her from falling on her face is Mando’s sudden grip on her elbow. His visor slowly turns to her again. And she knows he’s frowning this time. He yanks her back to her feet and they finally ascend to the deck. She sighs happily once she stumbles into the safety of the Crest.
As Mando closes and locks up the gangway behind them, a late thought suddenly strikes her. She turns to him with panicked eyes. “The kid!?”
“Shh-!” He quickly hushes her with a gloved pointer over her lips. She stares into her own flushed reflection as her voice echoes into the cockpit above. She’s hyper-aware of just how loud she’s being now that she’s no longer outside. Along with the scent of sunkissed leather directly under her nose. She doesn’t move until his finger slowly pivots to her right and when she follows his direction, she spots his hover pod, sealed up and safe and sound, just as she’d left him.
She sighs softly and her shoulders slump in relief. Mando leans in pointedly. “You’re lucky you were right.” he whispers into her hair. “He didn’t flinch when I got home.”
As goosebumps sprout up the back of her neck, he pulls away and crosses the room to the ladder. “I’m gonna lock us down. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Just before he climbs, he turns back to her. “Bedtime, Sen’ika. Now.” It's a gentle, but final warning.
She nods wordlessly and he leaves her in the middle of the room, dizzy and flustered. Her ears are also ringing now that she’s swallowed in silence. Eventually, she slowly pads into her designated corner. Her hammock is tucked away in the pocket of an empty storage closet, a thin makeshift curtain the only barrier between her ‘room’ and the deck. The walls hum around her and she realizes the heat has been turned back on, thankfully. She’s too drunk to fully wash up but she’s got enough energy to rip off her tight, itchy outdoor clothes and boots. She grabs the closest pajama-adjacent shirt and lounge pants she can find and wriggles them on.
She opens her hammock and finally allows herself to lay down, eyes turned to the dim ceiling.
How would it have felt if she’d laid her head on his shoulder?
No.
Would he have pushed her away? Or allowed her to stay?
Her brain’s focus shifts to the vision of his arms. His hands. His sweet, soothing voice.
I mean, he let her hold his hand, didn’t he? And hug him. Surely she could’ve gotten away with a little shoulder lean.
Gods, no.
Is he soft under all that armor? Does he run hot or does the beskar keep him cool? Is there a human face behind that m-
No! Stop it!
She physically shakes her head to break her train of thought. This was dangerous terrain. Just because you’re drunk doesn't mean you should be humoring these silly curiosities of yours! Her eyes squeeze shut and as she tries to take a deep breath, she realizes her heart is racing.
This is ridiculous.
Okay, so what if she has a crush on her employer?? It's not exactly a new phenomenon, and it certainly wasn’t the first boss she’d ever fallen for either. What was insane was what she liked about him. Because for the very first time, she couldn’t put a face to it. Instead, it was in his voice. His strength. His unwavering faith in his Creed, in the Way. He was loyal, honorable and resourceful. Stubborn as a Bantha, but quick to strike like lightning. He was also kind and selfless. He had the patience of a saint for the Child and innocent locals and despite his daunting appearance, he never hesitated to help out others, even if it meant pushing back on their schedule. There were actually various reasons why she liked him, and she couldn’t even put a name to a single one of them.
Not that any of it mattered. Because not a word of this would be uttered to anyone, let alone to him. Not to mention that this was a temporary gig, it’s not like she’d be around much longer anyway. The last thing she needed was to complicate this job for herself with her unprofessional schoolgirl behavior.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she shifts her focus to the only other thing clouding her judgment. Her head is still spinning but the heaviness behind her eyes makes it easy to keep them closed. She also focuses on slowing her breath, allowing her limbs to fully sink into the cradle of her hammock. A few minutes melt away and just as she finally feels herself beginning to drift..
“Pin her down.”
She physically jolts awake as the image of her ex-attackers kneeling over her flashes behind her eyelids. Her heart jumps to her throat as that same awful wave of nausea courses through her. Okay so clearly she wasn’t over what happened just yet. Her stomach turns again though this time for far more terrifying reasons.
She leaps to her feet before she can stop herself. She’s not sure what she wants just yet, but she knows whose presence she needs. She whips her curtain aside and almost jumps out of her skin when she sees Mando already standing at her doorway. “G-Geez- !”
He doesn’t flinch. He’s also holding a metal cup that he offers to her when she looks at it. “Drink this before you fall asleep,” he simply says.
“What is it?” she accepts it anyway, peering inside before taking a test sip.
“Just water,” Mando pauses and inwardly smiles when she gags at the aftertaste. “and powdered electrolytes to cut your hangover time in half. You'll thank yourself in the morning for it.”
“Mm, awesome!” she flashes him a pained grin and he almost chuckles. She’s so adorable like this, it’s almost painful.
He lingers for just a moment longer before he nods once. “Sweet dreams.” He starts walking away until a single hand on his arm makes him stop in his tracks. His helmet shoots towards her expectantly and when her eyes meet his visor, her voice suddenly clamps in her throat. She catches the almost-panicked expression in her reflection’s eyes and looks away. She almost starts apologizing, but he turns towards her instead, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”
“I- ” Her face feels warm again despite her growing anxiety and she feels betrayed by the flush burning across her cheeks. She huffs and looks down at her feet. “Never mind, it’s n- ”
“Sen’ika,” He doesn’t even have to say anything else. His helmet ducks to try and catch her eye. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle and reassuring that she has no choice but to succumb.
Fuck it, right?
“C… can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice is so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Her hand gently squeezes his sleeve, teeth catching on her bottom lip. “I don’t.. wanna be alone tonight..” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie.
It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from the cockpit. In fact, she can’t even hear him breathing. Fuck. Did she fuck it up? Is he weirded out? Is she fired? Again?? Fuck! Take it back!
She has no idea just how startled Din really is though. She can’t hear his heart doing somersaults in his chest or how almost-terrified he looks behind the visor. But then she looks up at him with those frantic angel eyes for just a moment, he knows that despite whatever’s asked of him, how could he ever deny his little bird?
She opens her mouth and he perks up. ”Okay,” he says. It’s just as soft as she asked and almost nervous. He nods to follow up and clears his throat. “Of course.”
Her eyes round and she blinks back at him, almost dumbfounded. Holy shit, it worked? “Yeah?”
He nods again. “Yeah,” he replies lightly before his helmet jerks in the direction of his bunk. “C’mon.”
He crosses the room to his bunk to open the hatch. The kid’s pod is hovering peacefully right by the door where either of them can reach him if they have to. She follows him wordlessly where he steps aside for her. “Pick your spot, I’ll be right back.” he tells her.
Ironically, she was no stranger to his bed. He’d offered his room to her plenty of times before she carved out a spare corner for herself to give him his privacy back. She never imagined she’d actually be sharing it with him for once. She downed the last of her water and put the cup aside before she stepped into the bunk. She decided to slide into the corner facing the wall to give him as much space as possible.
Mando’s only gone for a few minutes, but in her panicked, overthinking state, it feels like ages. She finds comfort in his sheets. After getting so used to this space then moving out for a stretch of time, they felt familiar and almost welcoming to come back to. She acknowledged this was mostly due to their scent, the warm, woodsy musk that she recognized as what was likely the scent of his skin. She nuzzles into his blankets, inhales and sighs into them.
Then his boot steps echo back into earshot. She rolls onto her back and props up on her elbows, watching his shadowed figure fiddling outside. After a particularly heavy sigh, he clicks a light off and steps inside. For a second, he almost looks like a shadow sliding along the walls. It’s then she realizes he’s not wearing his beskar. He's stripped down to his full flight suit, boots, gloves and of course, his trademark helmet. There’s still not a shred of skin in sight but this still gives her a full view of his own figure. She’s dumbstruck at just how broad he truly is even without his armor. Then, it dawns on her that he took off his beskar to make room for her and something flutters under her ribs.
He looks at her and she scoots into the wall. His gloves clench and unclench in a subtle twitch as he slides into the space next to her. It’s a tight squeeze, laying shoulder to shoulder, but it’s a fit that would’ve probably been unbearable with the few inches of additional armor on. She crosses her arms, making herself smaller and fitting around the bigger gaps between them.
They both sigh and for a moment, it’s quiet. Her heart’s weirdly racing and she’s not sure what to say. Or if anything should be said at all. He shifts next to her, and her first thought is that he’s warm, even under his dense flight suit. He sighs again, and it sounds spent. She wonders if his eyes are closed behind that helmet.
Her head cranes towards him. “Long day?”
A short huff cracks through his modulator. “Something like that.” He’s smiling behind that response.
She grins back and looks up at the dark ceiling again. Colors are still swirling in her eyes if she squints long enough, but they're fading, she notes. There’s another short pause before this time, he breaks. “If.. this is too uncomf- ”
“It’s not.” she cuts in sweetly, still smiling to herself. Despite the angle, he’s warm and sturdy and she’d never felt more secure sandwiched between a man and his metal walls. She gently nudges his side. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”
He huffs again and nudges back. “Any time.” he replies.
She giggles and pauses, words pricking at the tip of her tongue. She’s feeling brave again and in her growing drowsiness, she decides to throw caution to the wind one last time. “Mando?”
“Mm?”
She inhales and shifts, her chin gently pressing into his shoulder. “Can I be honest about somethin’?”
His helmet shifts to her expectantly before pointing his chin at her. A silent approval to keep going. “I’ve been surrounded by armies my whole life. For as long as I can remember. Rebels, mercenaries, outcasts. You name it, I’ve met ‘em,” She peers up at his visor, ensuring she’s making eye contact. “And I’ve never felt safer with any of ‘em than I have with you.”
He doesn’t so much as twitch, but she swears she hears his breath seize under the helmet. Once again, his chest blooms and swells and something warm settles in his stomach. He smiles inwardly and before he can stop himself, a gloved hand comes up between them, leather knuckles stroking along the shape of her cheek.
She leans into it for just a moment and then she breaks through, ducking under his arm to curl herself up into his side. She rolls onto her own side, an arm draped across his chest and her head resting below his collarbone. Surprisingly, he not only allows her position shift, but he wraps his arm around her and even pulls her into him. “I made a promise to you,” he says. His hand settles between her shoulder blades, his thumb tracing a single circle into her back. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe from harm. I intend to keep that promise as long as it takes.”
With her ear pressed into his shirt, she realizes that his pulse is racing against her. He also smells nice, like a combination of gunsmoke, the outdoors and the linen of his sheets. It’s woodsy and crisp, but it’s warm and homey and so intoxicatingly comforting.
She wants to say it.
She could get away with saying it if she played it right. But she's too drowsy and delirious and exhausted to keep thinking. He’s draping his blankets over them, tucking her into the ultimate heat source and she wants to soak in it. There’s a cool press against her hair and she realizes that his helmet is leaning into her. “Is this okay?” he whispers to her.
She nuzzles into his shirt and sighs contentedly. Sleep is pulling her into its depths faster than she anticipated but she has enough energy to sweetly mumble, “No. It’s better than okay.”
He exhales through his nose from above her and his hand gently rubs her back. “Get some sleep, mesh’la,” he purrs. “I’m here.”
She doesn’t know what that one means. She makes a mental note to ask tomorrow. Right now, she picks her head up to press a single kiss into his collarbone before plopping back down. “G’night Mando..”
His heart rate picks up again. He pulls her up closer so her head is nestled into the crook of his neck. This allows her to wrap both arms around him. His helmet tilts down and she swears she feels his eyes on her. “Good night.”
She closes her eyes and smiles, allowing herself to sink into his warmth and scent for the first and probably only time. Her words were never truer than in this moment; never had she felt safer than in this tiny bunk, wrapped in her Mandalorian’s blankets. She falls asleep shortly afterwards, her breaths evening out and her heartbeat slowing into a tranquil pace. This time, her mind takes her to more pleasant dreamscapes.
She can’t detect Mando at all, listening to her pulse as she sleeps. She doesn’t feel how long it takes before his gloves slip off in the dim lights and two arms fully wrap around her. She can’t sense his warm palms holding her against him, one across her back, the other coming up to smooth and brush her hair. And she’s long gone by the time he makes the conscious choice to give his helmet a break, telling himself he needs the air and it’ll be back on long before she wakes up tomorrow.
Somewhere in her subconscious, thoughts flash across her eyes; images of the Child, his laugh, his bright brown eyes, and his infectious joy. Repeated images of Mando, his visor, his cape, his arms. His sheets. His voice. His leathered touch. Their hands linked under a coat of stars.
She swears she feels a pair of ghostly lips brush against her forehead, if only for a moment, but she never quite figures out where they came from. Not that it matters. Because for now, this is enough. Even if it is only temporary.
* * *
a/n: stream season 3 only on disney + <3
#din djarin#the mandalorian#din djarin x you#din djarin x reader#din djarin fanfiction#din djarin x y/n#the mandalorian x reader#din djarin x female reader#mando x reader#the mandalorian fanfiction#mando x female reader
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it's a risk but babe, i need the thrill | joel miller x f!reader
part 1, part 2
summary: everything finally comes to a head
warnings: 18+!!! smut! unprotected piv, gentle smut
tags: angst, reconciliation, fluff, pining, smut (but it's light compared to the other two parts), halloween vibes (i was supposed to finish this in october, oops)
word count: 5.8k
a/n: guys. i am SO SORRY for the wait. this was so hard for me to finish i almost gave up so many times. i'm still unhappy with this but i can't make myself work on it anymore so here u go. thank you all so much for your patience, i really appreciate it. special thank you to @joelsfaveouritegirl for your support... i probably would've never finished this if it weren't for you, so thank you. <3. and thanks to all of you who kept me accountable. i hope you enjoy this fucking mess. also, this is probably the last joel fic i'll write for a while. i'm sorry. still, i hope you like this.
______________________________________________________________
There are only two seasons in Jackson, Wyoming: winter and not winter.
Where other states might have a gradual shift from warm to cold, in Wyoming, it’s like a slap to the face, quite literally. The moment you step into the evening October air, it feels as if you’ve walked into a wall of cold.
You shiver in your thick coat, and pull your scarf over your frosty nose as you meander down to the plaza.
While Jackson residents enjoy their time indoors and close to the fireplace during the colder months, they still love to celebrate outdoors, relying on their booze to keep them warm.
You don’t stop by Joel’s for a drink this time, he’s likely already in town square, dragged there by his daughter. Or… sort of daughter. He’s told you how he feels about Ellie, but the girl has her own opinions. Sure, she might deny that he’s like her dad, but she sure as hell treats him like he is.
You’re meeting them there.
The stars are already twinkling in the sky when you reach the throng of people. All of Jackson’s residents are in the plaza tonight for Halloween, dressed in homemade costumes and ones raided from the Party City in Idaho Falls. Jack-o-lanterns glow menacingly in corners and scarecrows are propped against brick walls. A few people in particularly frightening costumes prowl about, startling kids and adults alike.
Stalls line the edges of the plaza, each one providing something different. Tipsy Bison’s stall is run by Tommy, serving alcohol for the adults of the town. Seth’s stall is serving pork and brisket sandwiches. There’s a few stalls down the road advertising pumpkins and pastries, and you get a whiff of apple cider. Barrels of fire are scattered about to provide warmth. Lights are strung from the roofs of buildings, spread across the road, like clothes on a clothesline.
It’s incredibly cozy, and already, you feel much warmer than you did walking out of your house.
Within moments of passing Seth’s stall you hear Ellie’s voice ring out.
“She's here!”
You can’t see her weaving through the crowd but you can see Joel trailing behind, his arm trapped in front of him. He politely excuses himself and apologizes to those he bumps into as his daughter drags him through a crowd of people.
You can’t help but laugh, especially when you hear him say, “Jesus, kid, slow down.”
And then she’s in front of you, smiling and bouncing excitedly on her heels, dressed as one of the superheroes from the comics she reads. Joel is behind her wearing a black blindfold with the eyes cut out, and a felt superhero crest is stitched to the front of his black sweater. He looks very adorable. Clearly, Ellie forced him to dress up. His gaze catches yours, full of something you can’t quite grasp, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips.
“Hi,” he says, voice soft.
“Hi,” you repeat.
It’s been… well… you’re not quite sure how to describe how it’s been since you told him to stop kissing you.
It’s not like you guys have stopped seeing each other since then. Or that it’s been more awkward or anything. It just feels as if you’ve been depriving your body of what it needs, like you’re actively starving yourself.
You’d feel full while he was fucking you, and yet there was a hole in your chest, gnawing at your thoughts, a hunger so deep rooted that it’s been taking you longer to come.
Joel had noticed, too. Noticed your struggle and your frustration. He took it as something he was doing wrong, even though you insisted that wasn’t the case. Still, he took his time with you, trying to meet all your needs, and that, funnily enough, just made you feel worse.
Your meetings have grown fewer. Sometimes you would go a couple weeks without seeing each other—at least like that. Funny, how before you were so upset when he hadn’t been with you for a while. And now… now the distance is needed.
You still went out to dinner with him and Tommy and Maria. You still stopped by to say hi to Ellie and ask Joel how he’s been. Things have been normal, besides the overwhelming feeling of longing that strikes your breast the moment you see him.
You worry that it shows on your face, especially because of the dreams you’ve been having, like some lovesick teenager. Dreams that don’t involve just having sex. Dreams that frame the two of you as lovers, as parents as… growing old together.
Sometimes you’ll wake up crying, wondering if maybe you should just stop seeing him, talking to him, being around him all together. But then you’ll see him in town, or on patrols, and you know you’d never be able to stay away.
You swallow down the lump in your throat, and turn your attention to Ellie.
“Hey kiddo!” You greet, plastering a smile on. She doesn’t seem to notice your being off.
“You’re not dressed up,” she remarks, arms crossing over her chest.
“Um. Yes I am,” you gesture to your black sweater and black pants. “I’m a black cat.”
“You don’t even have ears or whiskers and a nose. That's a terrible costume.”
Joel squeezes her shoulder with a frown. “Hey, quit.”
“No, she’s fine. She’s right,” you sigh. “This was super last minute.”
“Cat is doing face painting down by the haunted house. You should let her paint some whiskers on you.”
You take a glance at Joel and he shrugs. God he looks ridiculous in that costume. Your heart constricts. You might as well be as ridiculous as him.
“That sounds great,” you say. Ellie looks like she’s about to drag you there when Dina comes running around the corner, practically slamming into her.
“Hey!” Ellie laughs, “Slow down.”
“You have to come with me. We’re going to do the haunted house, Jesse is already waiting for us. Come on,” Dina says, and pulls Ellie away before you and Joel can say a thing.
The two of you stand there for a moment, watching the kids with fond smiles before finally looking at each other.
His gaze seems to soften impossibly more when it lands on you.
“Your costume is kinda lame,” he says after a moment.
“Oh shut up.”
**
The paintbrush glides smoothly over your skin as Cat paints the tip of your nose black and whiskers on your cheeks. You keep sneaking glances at Joel who waits patiently for your face painting session to finish.
Once you’re done you stride over to him, grinning.
“Well?” You prompt, turning around and showing off your newly improved costume. “Not so lame anymore, huh?”
He chuckles, eyes roaming your figure. Heat simmers low in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes. “Much better.”
He pauses, eyes catching on your face. “Hey, wait.” He grabs your hand and pulls you in close. He’s warm, a nice contrast to the cool October air. You want to just snuggle up to him, wriggle your fingers up under his sweater to share his warmth.
“You got a little somethin’…” he trails off, hand coming up to press his thumb to your skin. He gently wipes off a stray black smudge from beneath your eye. It takes no less than five seconds, yet it feels like an eternity. Your chest presses into his, his hand is warm as it cups your cheek. His breath puffs against your lips, an almost kiss. And his eyes, focused so dearly on the smudge, slowly drift up to lock with yours.
“Perfect,” he mumbles, gaze never straying from yours. His hand never leaves your cheek, his thumb brushing carefully below your eye once more, a soft, subconscious caress now.
“Thanks,” you breathe.
Time feels like it’s stopped.
A kid rushes by with a delighted scream as another kid in a costume chases after him. You and Joel jolt apart, snapped back into motion.
He clears his throat and you swallow hard.
“You want somethin’ to drink?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
***
Tommy is beaming with his own little flush of alcohol when you and Joel come across his stall.
Maria hangs by his side, but her eyes follow every action happening around you. Ever the diligent leader.
“Howdy,” Tommy says, and Maria takes the time to glance over at the two of you with a welcoming smile.
“Hey,” Joel says, and you nod your head in greeting.
“You guys lookin’ for a drink?” Tommy asks. “We’ve got spiked apple cider.”
You bounce excitedly on your toes at that. Joel laughs lightly at the way your expression brightens. “We’ll take two.”
“Comin’ right up.”
“You’ve done a great job planning for this, Maria. Everything looks amazing,” you say.
She turns to you, and to your surprise, she looks a bit bashful. “Thanks. Everyone on the council helped a lot. I’m glad we can provide something fun like this.”
“The kids really need it.”
“I think the adults do, too. It’s nice to be able to scream without it being true fear.”
“Amen to that,” Tommy pipes up and sets two mugs of steaming spiked apple cider down.
“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel says, and hands you a mug.
“There’s a haunted house down the road, you guys should go check it out. Laney and Paul spent a long time on it,” Maria says.
“We will, thanks. See you guys around!”
You wave goodbye to them and make your way through the plaza. Joel’s hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady. You’re glad for it, as scarers prowl along the streets, jumping out randomly and thrusting their hands in your face.
The haunted house lingers at the edge of the road like a ghost. Party City decorations blot the yard: gravestones, plastic skeletons, witches with rotted cloaks. It’s like everything they could manage to carry was dumped here.
A line curves outside the door, kids bouncing on their feet as they await their turns. You feel a little ridiculous joining them, being your age, but Joel probably feels even more ridiculous so you push the thought from your mind.
“I’m actually kind of nervous,” you tell him as screams ring out from within the house.
“This thing ain’t nearly as terrifyin’ as the real world,” Joel says.
“Yeah, but still. I’ve never been a fan of being scared.”
Joel takes a sip of his spiked apple cider and shrugs. “I’ll protect ya.”
“My hero,” you coo and run your hand over the superhero crest stitched to his chest. He smiles.
Soon enough you’re at the door.
“You go first,” you tell Joel, and shove him in front of you, but you don’t let go of him.
"Good to know you're not afraid to throw me to the wolves."
"Your sacrifice will not be in vain."
He rolls his eyes but lets you fist one of your hands in his sweater and hold onto his arm with the other. You peer around him as the two of you venture inside.
A radio plays spooky sounds from all directions as you trail behind Joel through the house. Your eyes flit across every crevice, searching for who is going to scare you. Still, you don’t notice everything.
From seemingly nowhere, someone pops out in a Michael Meyers mask with a fake knife. You screech and hold tight to Joel. He hardly even flinches.
“How are you so chill?” you ask with a pout once you’ve recovered. Red lights flash in the hallway. Your voice is shaking. God, you’re a wimp.
“Because I’ve got someone I need to protect. I can’t act all scared, now, can I?”
You roll your eyes, knowing he’s just making shit up. He’s not scared at all.
You get closer and closer to him as the house progresses. Your hands are now interlinked, your cheek pressed against the warm muscle of his shoulder blades. You’re practically on top of him, trying to stay as close as possible.
Even with Joel acting so nonchalant, you’re scared. You get jump scared a few more times as you continue, thankful that your hands are preoccupied with holding onto Joel else you might’ve punched one of the scarers.
Eventually you make it to the end in one piece, your heart racing. You know it’s ridiculous—Ellie probably got through this with a straight face. Still, it’s kind of fun, being scared. You’re giggling into Joel’s sweater by the end of it, and he’s tucked you into his side, hand still interlocked with yours as you meander back to the plaza.
Warmth blossoms in your chest. Is this what it would be like if you were truly together? You feel the urge to push up on your toes to kiss him, but you shove it down. Guilt tugs at the back of your mind at the thought.
“You’re such a scaredy cat, I guess that costume is fittin’,” he muses, rubbing warmth into your waist.
“Sorry we can’t all be macho men like you."
You go to pull away, to create some distance. You can’t keep getting close to him like this. It weighs too heavily on your heart. But Joel squeezes your hand and tugs you back into his side, and you’re so very weak. You melt into him despite yourself.
“I think you rather like my macho-ness,” he says.
Heat pools in your belly at the smirk on his face, the darkness in his eyes. You avert your gaze with a small smile, warmth coloring your cheeks. “Yeah right.”
He turns toward you, towering over you. His hand splays heavily on your hip, and you shudder. “Playin’ coy now, huh? Where was this yesterday when—“
“Joel!” Ellie screeches, skidding to a stop in front of the two of you. You feel the urge to jerk away, but Joel only shifts so that he’s no longer in your face. He still keeps you close.
“What’s up kiddo?”
“There’s a campfire, everyone’s asking us to play a song.”
That piques your interest. Joel has played guitar for you a couple times, though he’s always very shy about it. You’ve stumbled across him playing on his own with no one to watch. It’s fascinating what the music does to him.
It’s like he’s transported somewhere else, his eyes closed as his fingers pluck the strings of his guitar, his foot tapping to the beat, his head nodding along as his hands tell a story through the notes.
You’ve never seen him play a whole song like that, he’s always noticed you before he could ever finish. And when you’d ask him to keep playing, there was a bit of stiltedness. You realized it was nervousness… he wanted you to be impressed, to like what he was doing.
You’re not sure how you ever could dislike his playing.
“You should do it,” you say.
Joel’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno—“
“What, you’re not scared, are you?” you tease.
“Don't talk to me about being scared. Pretty sure you stretched out my sweater with how hard you were holding onto me,” he counters.
“Will you two stop bickering like a married couple? Joel, they’re waiting. Come on!” Ellie says and grabs his hand, tugging him along. You laugh as you follow, though her little comment sticks in your mind.
***
Joel settles down on a log with his guitar in his lap. Ellie sits at his side. You got a spot a couple logs away, so you could get a good view of them. The campfire lights his silver hair copper, reflecting like stars off the wood of his guitar.
“Any fans of Bread here?” he asks, and a few hoots and hollers sound out. Joel laughs at that, and Ellie rolls her eyes. You've never heard of the band, but you wait with bated breath. They tune their guitars, and then Joel takes a deep breath and counts down.
One, two, three, four…
Soft strumming fills the air. Ellie keeps the main melody, but Joel plucks more of the details. He sings first.
Baby I’m-a want you
Baby I’m-a need you
You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about
His voice is smooth, a bit shaky from the nerves, but it washes over you like a warm wave of water. Immediately, you’re drawn in. It’s unrealistic, but you still think that Joel could save the world with his voice. It’s scratchy but soft, if one can be both of those things at the same time.
He looks up through his lashes, his gaze catching yours.
Maybe I’m-a crazy, but I just can’t live without
your lovin’ and affection… givin’ me direction
Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hours
Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be-a stayin’
Beside me…
Your breath catches in your throat while he sings.
It’s just a song, you tell yourself. But the way he’s looking at you… it’s as if everyone else has disappeared. As if the words were created specifically for you. As if… as if maybe he chose this song for a reason…
Ellie picks up the prechorus with her angelic voice, and you’re brought back into the present. But then Joel starts the solo, his eyelids fluttering shut as the music takes over him. His head nods along to notes as he plucks each one out with precision and skill. His foot taps in time with the beat, and people cheer, but you can’t stop staring.
The solo ends all too soon, but Joel’s voice merges beautifully with Ellie’s harmonies back on the prechorus once more.
Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be a stayin’
Beside me…
Used to be my life was just emotions passin’ by.
Then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry
He gives you a small grin, secret, for no one else but you.
You taught me why…
Baby I’m-a want you.
Baby I’m-a need you.
Oh, it took so long to find you baby
Baby I’m-a want you.
Baby I’m-a need you.
Your chest constricts at the sight of him, at the sound of the last few notes being plucked expertly by his fingers. At the blend of his voice with Ellie’s. You can't bear to sit here at this campfire, watching him only as a friend, a fellow neighbor, just like everyone else. You want him to sing this song for you. To know that it’s only you he’s thinking of as the last few strings are plucked by his nimble fingers, ringing out into the dark, cold night. That it’s only you he sees clapping and cheering him on. But you can’t even grant him that, already on your feet the moment the song ends, practically sprinting away from the campfire as your throat grows tight and tears spring to your eyes.
You hope no one has noticed. You hope the footsteps you can hear crunching on crimson leaves are just someone walking past. Of course they’re not though.
“Are you okay?” the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice asks.
God, no! Why!
You frantically wipe the tears from your eyes, sniffling snot so it doesn’t drip down your lip and betray you.
“Oh,” you start, and internally curse the way your voice shakes. You turn toward the one who has been unraveling you at the seams with a trembling smile. “Hi, Joel.”
“Christ, what’s wrong, baby?”
“Don’t—don’t call me baby,” you say, and it’s not at all what you mean to say. You mean to just reassure, to just brush this off and bury it deep inside and never let it out. But you don’t.
Joel’s face hardens, and he steps in closer with a hand stretched out but at the look on your face, thinks better of touching you.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Why are you crying? What happened?”
Nothing. It was just a pretty song.
Was it for me?
Nothing. I’m just being hormonal.
Do those lyrics mean something to you?
Nothing.
Enough. Enough with the excuses and the rules and the lies.
“You happened,” you spit.
He takes a surprised step back. “What?”
“You and your stupid fucking—your stupid fucking friends with benefits and your stupid fucking big heart and your stupid fucking guitar happened, Joel.”
This is probably the first time you’ve ever rendered Joel speechless outside of sex. He looks so stupid standing there staring at you with his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. And yet all you want to do his pull him in and hug him and tell him how much you love his stupid fucking face. Instead, you take a step back.
“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he mutters. “You’re freezin’. Let’s head back to my place, we can talk about it there—“
“No. No. I won’t let you just fuck me and then pretend like whatever’s between us doesn’t exist.”
“That’s not—“ he starts, but then must register what you said because his brows furrow over his ice cold gaze. “Me? I pretend like it doesn’t exist?”
“Yes!”
“No I don’t. You’re the one that told me you didn’t want me to kiss you anymore. You’re the one that’s been keepin’ me at arm's length all this time. You’re the one pretending.”
You go to yell back at him, to deny, but the realization that he’s right kills the words in your throat, and you fall silent.
Joel steps closer, his voice dropping. “You can act like I’m the one that’s been torturing you as much as you like, but it just ain’t true.”
His eyes flit across your face wildly, taking in the tears in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, the tint of your cheeks from the cold. He softens.
“Darlin' I... I have been in love with you since the first time I heard you laugh. Since the first time you even glanced my way. Every god damn day is torture wanting all of you when all I can have is some of you.”
You can’t speak, can hardly even breathe.
“If you don’t want to make this anythin’ other than sex, just tell me,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. His breath condenses into steam in the cold air. “Tell me you want to keep pretending, and we can keep pretending."
“I…I don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to keep pretending.”
His nose brushes yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Tell me you don’t want more.”
You swallow harshly. “I want more.”
“Tell me you’re sorry you made me stop kissing you.”
“Please, kiss me, Joel.”
“You’re not very good at followin’ directions, are you?” he says, grinning, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss when he pulls you in.
His lips are soft, deliberate when they meet yours. He coaxes you open, makes you slow down, pulls you into it so you feel it entirely. Reminds you of what you were missing when you forbade him from kissing you.
God, you missed it so much. Missed him.
Joel’s arms wind around your waist, his hands sliding along the fabric of your coat, and it’s so cold but god you wish you had less layers on right now. You’re sure the warmth of his hands could keep you from hypothermia.
“I’m sorry I forbade you from kissing me,” you say.
He hums, “I guess I can forgive you. Might need some convincing.”
“Oh shut up,” you grin, and pull him back in again.
“I hate pretending like I don’t love you,” he murmurs against your lips, hands gripping your waist.
“You… really love me?”
“Did you not hear my speech earlier?”
“I did. I just… can’t really believe it.”
He pulls you in close and gently grasps your jaw with his large hands. He kisses you again, thumbs brushing against your cheeks.
His lips find the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he says.
A kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”
A kiss to your eyelid. “I love you.”
When he pulls back, he’s smiling again. It’s strange to see Joel smile. He really doesn’t do it often around anyone. But you guess you’re an exception.
All that time you had spent pushing him away, agonizing over how much you loved him, fearing that he’d leave you if you so much had hinted that you were in love with him, only for him to be in love with you all this time? Holy shit. The world feels like it’s turned upside down.
“Okay, I think I believe you now,” you say in a laugh.
“You haven’t said it back, which I guess is alright—“
“I love you too, Joel,” you interrupt.
He softens again. “I love you,” he murmurs, and pulls you in again for another toe curling kiss. God, you were an idiot for making him stop.
He wipes the tears from your eyes with a calloused thumb. “Your face paint is smudgin’.”
“It was a stupid costume anyway.”
“No, it's cute. But…” Joel glances about, lips quirking in a smirk. He leans down, and his voice is so low you almost don’t hear it. “I think it would look better on my floor.”
“Well…” you fight the grin on your face, delighting in the heat curling low within you. “I guess since you love me and we’re kissing again and aren’t exactly friends anymore… we could really put that statement to the test.”
“I think we should,” he says, and leans down to kiss your neck.
You hum in approval. “What about Ellie?”
“She had plans to go to Dina’s after the festival,” he says, between kisses. “Come over, please? Or do I need to send you a letter with a wax stamp and everythin’?”
“Well… since you said please, I guess that will do.”
The whole walk to his place he has his arm slung about your waist, proudly displaying that you’re his.
You nuzzle yourself into his side, grateful for his warmth and companionship. Your heart feels so full, so light, as if you might actually drift up into the air. Thank god Joel is holding you to keep you grounded.
You smile at Maria and Tommy when you pass by them, and they exchange a look that says something like Finally.
Then you’re at his house, and he’s unlocking the door and letting you go in first. And this time when you’re welcomed inside, you’re no longer worrying about rules or how you feel, or how you might fuck this up. It’s so fucking freeing.
Joel doesn’t ravish you the moment the door closes. Instead, he kind of just stares at you.
You squirm under his attention, growing self conscious. “What?”
He smiles, hands gravitating to your hips. “Nothin’. I just love you.”
You grin. “I love you too.”
He kisses you again, and you don’t think you could ever get enough of it. You kisses you roughly against the door, hips colliding with yours, over and over, and soon enough you’re shaking with want. Mind muddled, whispering a single word into his ear, “Bedroom.”
It feels different here this time. All those times in the past had felt restrained, now, everything feels exactly as it should.
When before you used to strip down quickly just to get him inside you, this time, you both take your time. He carefully unwraps you like a present as he noses kisses down your throat. He peels your thick black sweater off, and slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders, his dark eyes locked with yours. Joel reaches behind you and undoes the clasp with ease. You can hardly hold back your shaky sigh.
Your hands smooth over his sweater-clad chest before pulling it up and over his head. That jagged scar is there on his stomach, a reminder of everything he’s been through. You run your hand along it, and he shudders.
“Sit down,” he says.
You sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels before you. Then, he grabs your boot-clad foot and sets it on his thigh. He undoes the laces and carefully takes the boot off. He does the other, and then hooks his fingers around your waistband and pulls it and your panties off together.
“I was right,” he says. “It really does look better on my floor.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you say, and pull him back into you. His lips catch yours gently, but the kiss intensifies when your mouth parts eagerly as his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips. His tongue slips in, and a moan tumbles out of you as your hands scrabble at his shoulder blades, your nails lightly scratching over thin scars.
His nose squishes against your cheek, and his large, hot hands slide up and down your body, like he just can’t keep them still. Like he wants to catalog all of you right now, remember it forever.
He rocks against you, still confined in his jeans, but you can feel the hard shape of him brushing against your sensitive core, the friction incredibly delicious. Your hands find his button and zipper, undoing them both with as much concentration as you can muster, though it’s really difficult when he’s kissing you like you contain all of the world’s oxygen.
Finally, he allows you to breathe, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin of your throat as he mouths hot kisses down your skin. He grips one of your thighs, setting it against his hip, large, rough fingers splaying across the whole of it. God, you love how easily you fit in his palms.
He grinds his hips into you over and over and you moan, aching for the feel of him inside you. You tug at his waistband again. “Joel, please take these off already.”
“Not yet,” he says, and releases your leg, his hand skating across the skin of your thigh, brushing gently along, making you shudder in his hold. You can feel the warmth of his fingers as he nears where you want him most.
And then, his fingers are on you, swirling in gentle circles, unraveling you at the seams. Your head hits the mattress and your back arches. He knows exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, has had so much time to practice. But this time, it feels so much better, knowing now that he loves you. That you’re more than just friends.
Your palms find his face and you pull him in for a slow, meaningful kiss, trying to tell him just how thankful you are for him. How glad you are that he loves you. How sorry you are for not letting him kiss you. It’s kind of hard to kiss him, though, when he’s making you feel this good. Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging at it, and he moans into your mouth.
He slips one, two fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace that has your hands gripping his hair tightly and your hips scrabbling for that pleasant release dangling in front of you. He urges you on with encouraging, quiet words, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your mind, body, and soul feel hot.
When his thumb finds your clit it’s only moments until you’re shattering against him, warmth flooding your body. Your hips jerk, your legs shaking as he takes you over the edge.
“Pants off. Now,” you huff between breaths, and he finally listens.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then, he shifts you up the bed… it reminds you of the first time the two of you had sex again after he was so busy. So much the same yet so different. His hand moves up your body, cups one of your breasts, kneading it gently. When his thumb ghosts over your nipple, you shiver.
“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he murmurs, and grasps your knee, pulling it over his hip.
And then he’s sliding in, and the stretch is blissful, so welcome, so familiar and yet so new. You hold onto him, keeping him close as he begins to move. You feel full, mind faraway with bliss.
“God, Joel-“ you hiss.
He groans out your name, and it rumbles through you like rolling thunder. Lightning lights a fuse at the end of your spine.
You’re out of control. He tends to do that to you. Make you angry, make you sad, draw all the emotions you tend to not want to deal with out of you. Frustrates you, makes you so hungry with want that you throw all semblance of rational thought away. And he likes it. You like it.
God, you love him so much.
You move together as one, pushing and pulling. Everything shrinks down to just this. Him. You. Where your bodies meet.
“More,” you moan, and he huffs out a laugh, but obliges, thrusting into you deeper, harder, and you’re as tight as a bowstring.
Every anxious thought, every worry, every single doubt dissipates with every movement of his hips. You shift your own to meet his thrusts, and soon he’s gasping into your skin, growling your name. His hand winds into your hair, and he breathes with you, eyes locked with yours.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs. “Come for me.”
Well, who are you to deny him? He pushes you over the edge in an instant, your body going taught, eyes rolling back into your head. His name flows out of you like a mantra.
Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel.
“I love you,” he says into your throat when he follows you, hips jerking with sloppy thrusts as he comes inside you.
Joel collapses next to you, pulling you into him, his arm slung heavily across your waist. When you can finally catch your breath, you say, “I love you, too.”
His grin is sated, eyes heavy when he pulls you in for another deep kiss. “We’ve said that a lot, huh?”
“Just making up for lost time. I think it’s alright.”
“I should’ve said it a lot sooner,” he says, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“Me too. Telling you not to kiss me was really dumb.”
“Probably not the smartest thing you’ve said.”
You scoff in mock offense, pushing at his shoulder. “Asshole.”
“Yeah, but you love me.”
You roll your eyes, but scoot further into him, laying your head on his chest.
It might have been a risk to fall in love with your best friend, but God, you’re glad you did.
“Yeah, I really do.”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller#joel tlou#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#game joel miller#hbo joel miller#this is trouble
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did you see this? https://x.com/achtungchio/status/1768089834222977466?s=20
Oh my God. Yes, yes I have indeed seen that post, but for those who haven't let's get a screenshot up:
This comes from a fan who attended tonight's performance of Nye and was at the stage door afterward and overheard this exchange between Michael and another fan. (A second fan has made another post here on Tumblr also confirming what Michael said.)
So...just to put things in perspective, it has been eight months since GO season 2 first aired, and one month since we've gotten a comment from David about what it was like to kiss Michael. And now we finally have heard from Michael about what it was like to kiss David, and everything about how this came about could not be more perfect.
I love that it was a question from a fan, instead of a print or TV interview. Knowing how Michael has interacted with the fandom for the last five years, I would fully expect him to give the cheekiest (and most honest) answer to a fan instead of an interviewer. It's probably also what he's wanted to scream out on Twitter since last July, but couldn't because of the Writers' Strike and then the subsequent fandom drama that occurred in late October.
His answer absolutely blows me away, for so many reasons. That you can just hear "It's everything you've dreamed of" so distinctly in his voice, for one. But also that it's gorgeous because Michael is giving away so much by saying so little. It's that he was being a complete tease with that soft chuckle (as the second fan mentioned) and by letting us imagine more than he told us--and also seemingly very purposely not stopping us from imagining it.
Also, the use of "you dreamed of" instead of "I dreamed of" almost seems deliberate, as if Michael used to dream about kissing David but hasn't had to for a long time because he's kissed him many times before. (It also made me wonder if that was a sly reference to those of us who have thought about Michael and David kissing, and the fact that Michael knows so many of us have thought about it. I'm probably completely wrong, but I feel oddly and unexpectedly seen at the moment. Haha.)
I am just delighted that someone finally asked him that, though. I think we've been dying for it, but also likely not as much as Michael has been dying for it. And how amazing would it be if this is what leads him back to Twitter to engage with the fandom and share a few more juicy tidbits that he's been keeping under wraps. Fingers crossed...
#unforgivablengk#reply post#michael sheen#welsh seduction machine#david tennant#soft scottish hipster gigolo#good omens 2#nye the play#national theatre#truth disguised as a joke#michael is about as subtle as a drunken llama on roller skates#there's teasing the fandom and then there's whatever these two are doing#they are perfect together your honor#mutual wanting#in and out of character#ineffable lovers#kissing#discourse
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It's Not Tonight
Summary: Tom Bennett slips in through your window.
Paring: Tom Bennett x Female!Reader
Word Count: 1.6k+
Warnings: Tom is a scoundrel, angst from a one night stand, masturbating, a smidge of voyeurism, kissing, grinding, sexual memories recalled fondly but also bitterly, overstimulation kinda?
Author's Note: It has been one year since I last wrote for Tom fucking Bennett and what better way to commemorate that than something short and smutty? This takes place end of episode 1 and beginning of episode 2, for season 1 WoF. Thank you so much my beloved @helaelaemond for being my muse, for your help with this piece! Without you, it would have just been sitting in my drafts. 💜
Dividers are by @saradika-graphics 💜
It had been two weeks since Tom slipped through your bedroom window, his features pink from the night’s cold air and a boyish grin curled on his lips. You squeaked your surprise, your eyes wide as he pressed close to kiss, the contrast of his cold nose and hot mouth making your skin rise, tasting the pint he must’ve finished before he came tapping on your window pane.
“Be quiet, pretty girl,” he had said, a murmur against your lips, and you sighed sweetly, his tongue pushing past your lips for another deep kiss. “We don’t want to wake no one.”
This was true, as your father would often vocalize on how much he loathed, “that damn Bennett.” You quietly pulled him towards your bed.
The next morning, your sheets held the tangy sweet scent of the euphoria he had pulled from you–several times–mixing with the cigarette smoke and a musk that was so distinctly his own. As you pulled them off to wash, you noticed his navy blue overcoat he had tossed onto your chair. You grabbed it as well, smiling with the thought it would be clean for when he came back.
But he did not come back that night, or the next one.
It was now fourteen fucking days since that night together. Though your agitation with Tom Bennett was not as adamant on your every expression, something pointed out by your mother, it still thrummed beneath in such a way that rattled your bones. His coat was now clean and folded across the armrest, a mockery of that short-lived bliss.
You were on your bed and reliving the warmth of his voice that had tickled the shell of your ear, how his fingers so carefully peeled away your nightgown and the undergarments you had worn, the gentle nip of his mouth that trailed towards your core…
You burned with this memory, same as you had that night, rutting your nightgown to your hips, your fingers touching and trailing back up the damp fold of your underwear that was shaped to your lips before you dipped below the waistband. Your arousal was slick between your folds, a slow circular motion, just as Tom had done.
When he did, he had asked you, “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”
That arrogant bastard–but your scoff came out as a soft moan, followed with his name spilling from your lips, breathless and still wanting, “Tom…”
“Yes, love?”
The voice struck cold against your spine, your hand pulling back and your eyes snapping open to see his lean figure pulling through your window. You struggled to find your voice. “I…” you were now burning from how Tom looked over you, aglow, aware, with his damn cheeky, boyish grin splayed across his perfect mouth, “...where the hell have you been?”
Tom only hummed in response, still smirking as he peeled off his shirt, his pale chest stained pink, and climbing onto your bed. You parted your legs to let him rest into the cradle of your hips, the nip of his skin against your plush thighs making your skin rise.
When you tried to move the offending hand, he was quick to catch your wrist, the crystalline blue of his eyes boring into you, and you stared at him a moment, watching as he brought your hand closer, pressing your middle and ring fingers to his tongue, his hot mouth closing and suckling them clean.
Your mouth opened with a soft gasp, squirming under his weight, from the sensation of his tongue licking your fingertips. He pulled your hand back with a lewd pop and let it fall back to your side, his grin still cheeky and now almost smug.
“They had me on remand for two weeks,” his voice was low, the blue in his eyes bright, “I came here to celebrate, but I see you started already…”
You should have pushed him off and then back out the window he crawled in from, but your body betrayed you with a warmth pooling between. Instead, you pushed to your elbows, one hand reaching to cup the back of his neck to pull him closer for a kiss, tasting the remnants of yourself, your tongue curling against the roof of his mouth.
Tom groaned, low, returning the passion until your breath was a heated exchange. He shifted his slender hips with a slow grind against your clothed cunt and you moaned softly, nails biting into his shoulders. He reached between, his fingertips almost tickling with his touch.
“So wet,” and he was still smug, “and it’s all for me.”
Your eyes were glazed already, your skin warming as you processed what he said, but before a smart comment could pass your kiss-swollen lips, his hot mouth moved to reclaim yours again. He was hard already and you could feel him, pressing against the seams of his pants, pressing against you until your heart rate could now be felt in your cunt.
“Tom,” you moaned again, your hips lifting for the friction, “I need you.”
He pulled to lay onto his back, unfastening his buttons while you slipped your panties off. You moved to straddle him, his slender frame caught between your plush thighs and his cock hard and flushed and pressed upwards, nearly touching his belly button, slotted between your soft lips. Black now almost swallowed the brilliant blue of his eyes when they focused on your nipples that were peeking beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown; you could feel him pulse beneath you.
Tom pushed up for another kiss, fumbling to help remove your final layer, your bare chest flushed against his as he pulled you close, and his chest hair tickled. His mouth moved towards the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest, the glisten of his spit with every intimate kiss placed.
Your back arched in response, rolling your hips against him. You reached to line him with your entrance, slowly sinking onto his length; you are wet, but there was a stretch still, a fullness that Tom fucking Bennett possessed, and it was delicious.
“Stop clenching,” he gritted once he was fully sheathed within. Your hands moved to his chest, pushing him to lay back against the pillows; it was your turn to wear the smug smirk.
His eyes fluttered as you slowly rocked against him, so deep you swore you saw sparks when he bottomed out. His grip dimpled with the hold he had on your hips, lifting his own in response to your motion. You gasped, soft in the quiet of the bedroom, and he repeated the movement.
“Fucking hell,” he rasped, setting a pace that sent a tingling sensation to the ends of your appendages, returning to claw at your lower core. “You feel fucking perfect.”
You are without words, your fingertips digging red crescents onto his pale chest for balance, chasing after your pleasure. The flutter of your walls around him had Tom groaning. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, and one of your hands lifted to touch his bottom lip and, again, his mouth closed around, his tongue coating them with his spit. You pulled back and slipped them between your blossom above where his in-and-out pace continued, a milky white ring forming around his base.
The touch was the tipping point, spilling your climax with a clenching response to the shuddering euphoria that rippled through you. You struggled to stay quiet and Tom was quick to roll you onto your back, pinning you to the mattress.
His large hand pressed over your mouth to muffle you, sliding back in and returning to his same brutal pace. You whimpered against his palm, still very sensitive with the final waves of your last release that was trilling your spine.
“One more for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, and your tears were already pearling, your walls clenching with your second peak–not as intense as the first, but a prolonged pleasure with the stuttering of his hips.
Tom pulled back, still hunched over you with his tension present in his shoulders and neck, his brow focused in a furrow as he pumped his fist, his pearly spend spilling from his flushed cockhead and across your stomach. He paused, leaning close to touch his forehead to yours, a sticky sheen from his peak, before his jaw tilted up to press a messy kiss to your hairline.
“Alright then.”
You blinked and he was gone, already standing and tucking himself back into his slacks before reaching to toss your nightgown to your grasp. You could already feel the heat of your returned anger spilling into your bloodstream, replacing the sweetness you felt only moments before. “You taking off to disappear another two weeks then?” Your voice was tight with the question.
His crooked grin flashed as he crawled back onto the mattress, his mouth hot and consuming, his kiss slow and searching until it drew a small noise from you. Then Tom pulled back again, grabbing his shirt. “I have somewhere to be tomorrow.”
“Court date?” You were flushed from the kiss, but your bitter tone remained.
“They only let me out cause I said I’d join up, but I had a change of heart on the way over,” he finished the last buttons before tucking it into the waist of his slacks, his perpetual smirk playing on his lips, “I’m a conscientious objector.”
His Mancunian drawl emphasized the final two words. “You’re a scoundrel is what you are, Tom.”
Tom only hummed, grabbing his coat and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “You would not have me any other way,” and he moved to steal another kiss, a clash of teeth and tongue that stirred your blood again.
But before your fingers could move to comb through his sandy locks, he pulled away, disappearing out through your window and into the night.
You fell back onto your sheets with their tangy sweet scent of the intimacy shared, of cigarette smoke and the musk that was so distinctly Tom fucking Bennett’s.
Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl
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#ewanverse#wof fanfic#wof fanfiction#tom bennett#tom bennett x reader#tom bennett x you#tom bennett x female!reader#it's not tonight
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Escape to the Eden Club - Sister! reader x Shelby Brothers
Summary; Emily Shelby wants to spend the night away from the confines of Small Heath and decides to head out to the famed Eden Club of London. All was well until a certain trio arrived and reigned havoc.
Author's Note; I took some liberties with the plot/ location of the Eden Club itself. That being said, this is still meant to be aligned closely with the fight scene from season 2. As always, let me know what you think.
Eager to escape into the cool evening air, Emily wrapped her shawl loosely around her shoulders and took stock of her purse. A small roll of bills, lipstick, a dainty opal hairbrush, and a shining Colt Pocket Hammerless Arthur had given her some time ago. With one last glance to the mirror, she smoothed out her dress and went for her bedroom door, shutting it softly behind her. Seeing as Polly would still be at the church for sometime, she decided it would be best to inform her brother on her intentions. Emily approached Thomas’ office and peered in to see the stout man sitting behind his modest desk. She rapped lightly on the door frame and was beckoned inside by just a flick of her brother’s eyes instead of a word. After only taking one step into the room she spoke in the most clear, confident tone she could muster.
“I’m going out with Ada this evening. I’ll be back by midnight.” Hoping the conversation would end there she turned to leave only to be stopped by her brothers words. Still not looking up from the papers spread across the wood before him he cleared his throat and said,
“Going out with Ada, eh? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?” Emily rolled her eyes, hoping her brother didn’t see, and replied,
“Because I didn’t think there would be any issue.” Emily didn’t like lying, a quality instilled in her by her Aunt Polly since her youth. Though, as a Shelby, it came naturally. Exhausting Emily further, Thomas continued in his questioning.
“Where about are you two going?” Calmer this time, as to not arouse suspicion, the girl replied,
“Just to dinner, in Digbeth.”
“The name of the establishment?” With more attitude, she replied,
“The Carriage.” The man sat for a moment, only sparing her one more glance as he searched her face for deceit. He apparently found none.
“Be back by 11.” Emily offered a small smile and made her way out of the home on Watery Lane, calling over her shoulder,
“I’ll see you at 11:30, Tom.”
The night was still young and the chance for her to walk the streets of Birmingham alone and untethered was an excitement of a life time. She wouldn’t just be walking the streets of her hometown tonight, though. After meeting her friend Scarlett by the cut they hailed a cab and set out for London.
The passage was just under 2 hours before they arrived to the Eden Club just outside of the city. After tipping the cabman and exiting out into the brisk night they set for the front doors of the avant-garde establishment. Scarlet giggled with excitement as they approached the doorman who knew better than to question two striking young women trying to enter the club. The main hall filled was filled with the smell of smoke and sex and the band played on to ring in the young night. It wasn’t often that Emily got to leave the holdings of Small Health, let alone the claws of her brothers. After Ada’s departure, Thomas was more worried than ever about loosing his youngest sister. This fear often manifested into the overarching control of Emily’s every move. He felt it was both an act of love and an act of necessity. Emily knew she was deeply loved by her brother and cared for him in the same way. Yet, at the end of the day, if Tom could have his thumb on the pulse of every member of the family, only then could he ensure their safety, or so he believed.
“Isn’t this amazing!” Scarlett squealed in Emily’s ear. Scarlett was one of the few friends that Thomas approved of. She came from a respectable, working-class family who raised horses and often did work with the Shelby family.
“I know.” Emily said back, raising her voice to soar over the loud music. The pair approached the bar and beckoned the attendant for a drink. Soon after, two men approached the women introducing themselves as Paul, a tall man with short black hair in a pressed grey suit, and David, a slightly stout man with dusty blonde hair and rosy cheeks who’s slim black suit made him look taller than he was. Paul explained that Emily had caught his eye from the moment she had walked in and it would be a crime to let a woman like herself buy her own drinks. It was only out of the confines of Birmingham that handsome men would approach her, unafraid of people she was related to. She could speak freely and finally feel a sense of control she was never afforded at home.
“Would you care to dance?” Paul asked the young woman and carefully took her hand in his. They left their drinks at the table where David and Scarlett sat completely enthralled with one another. He led her to the dance floor just as a new song started over at the bands stage. Spinning around the floor Emily couldn’t help but laugh at the happiness she felt in Paul’s arms. He leaned in close to her face and breathed,
“You are absolutely stunning.” His breath smelled of bourbon and lust. This was Emily’s dream; to be young and free. Finally she was living it.
She only noticed the violent outburst taking place across the large room once she heard the crashing noise of a wooden table full of glassware hit the ground. The band cut to a halt and gasps filled the audience. Out of instinct, Paul shoved Emily behind him as he assessed the situation. When it became clear that the men dressed in black meant to do harm he ushered his date back to their table to collect their friends and make a run for the door. Through the crowd, Emily peered over the bobbing heads of patrons ducking and running at the chaos she noticed a familiar jacket fly up as one of the unknown assailants struck another man across the face. As he turned to face another man she saw the face of her brother adorned with a busted lip and small drops of another mans blood.
“Fuck.” She whispered and made a run for her table. Scarlett and her companion had already gathered their things and stood to meet the other couple. The four of them hid behind the large sofa they had once sat on while they waited for a path to clear to the main exit of the building. Emily grabbed her friend by the arm and swung the girl around to meet her scared face. The two men were conversing anxiously at the best plan of escape while the women spoke in hushed words.
“It my fucking brother!”
“What?” Scarlett gasped “Are you sure?” The two women peered over the couch to see the men still going at it near the center of the room. This time, Arthur’s face came into view through the madness.
“Fuck it’s the lot of them. We need to go. Now!” Emily shoved the other girl forward and the men followed suit. A gunshot rang out through the building and they all dropped to the floor covering their heads. Paul grabbed Emily’s shoulders hovered his body over hers to protect her. When the men quit fighting and stood to see where the shot had come from all became quiet. The four took this opportunity to head straight for the exit. Emily only heard the indistinct echo of Tommy’s voice before clearing the doorway.
Pouring into the street patrons ran every conceivable direction to vacate the path of anymore possible bullets. After reaching the end of the block Paul spoke, out of breath.
“Is everyone ok?” Each took their turn affirming that they were not hurt, just a bit shaken. Emily turned to her friend communicating with just their eyes that they all needed to get leave before her brothers had a chance to exit the building. “Alright, I need to get you home.” Paul said and took Emily’s shoulder and David followed suit with Scarlett.
“No!” Emily said too forcefully, “I - We will get home, I promise. You need to get on your way,” she explained gently. Truthfully, she wanted nothing more than to go anywhere with Paul, that handsome, caring gentleman. He stood firm on his words and said again,
“Emily, really, I need to make sure you get home. I don’t know who the fuck those bastards were.” Scarlett let out a worried laugh at the irony of the situation and still couldn’t take her eyes off the doorway expecting any moment that the men would emerge and see them. Emily took her arm from him though it pained her to do so.
“Please, Paul, really. You need to get going.” She said urgently. He took a step back and dropped his eyes to the ground, looking hurt. Defeated, he touched David on the shoulder, prompting him to let go of Scarlett’s arm.
“It was lovely meeting you,” was all he spoke before turning and walking off into the dark alley way. Emily rifled around in her purse and pulled out some small bills shoving them into Scarlett’s hand.
“Go. Now!” She said before beginning to turn away.
“What? I’m not leaving you!” Her friend yelled back, grabbing onto her wrist, stopping her movement.
“Scarlett, go! Please. Before they come out.” She pleaded. Even her friend knew that there would be hell to pay if her family found out that she had been running around, getting into trouble with the Shelby girl. With eyes darting between the front door of the Eden Club and Emily’s worried expression Scarlett forced herself to embrace her friend.
“Please be safe.” Emily nodded in response and they both took off into opposite directions. After quickly crossing in front of the building, the younger Shelby tried her best to hail a cab as many former club goers tried to do the same. Every few seconds she found herself looking over her shoulder praying that she wouldn’t turn to find her brother’s red face looking back at her. After a few failed attempts she saw a empty taxi just across the way parked right next to the entrance of the club. If she hurried, she might just be able to make it before her brothers emerged. With a quick decision she bolted as fast as her heels would carry her across the street and made it just steps the the cab door before she felt the shoulder of a much larger man connect with her own. As she was shoved back onto the hood of the cab she couldn’t help but shout,
“watch where yer’ fucking goin!” Just as any other Shelby would. She watched in anger as that very man climbed into the cab himself and the car began to drive away forcing her to move back onto the side walk. Collecting herself and still cursing the man under her breath she only made it a few steps from her place in front of the club before she heard her name called from behind her.
It was John. The word pierced her soul like a knife. Without thinking, she swung around to see him standing only about 10 feet behind her as Thomas and Arthur filed out of the door. Without a second to reconsider, she ran. Though slowed down by her shoes and the lingering effects of alcohol, she carried herself briskly down the street.
“Emily Lenora Shelby!” She heard Arthur roar from behind her. Continuing down the sidewalk shoving between the still clearing crowd she did not stop. Just before she reached the nearest intersection a strong hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around causing her to stumble. She was caught by her oldest brother’s hands of either shoulder lightly shaking her to emphasize each word as they came from his red, blood splattered face.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Are you bloody mental?” She squinted to shield herself from the yelling as she put her hands to his chest to push him away. He wasn’t planning on letting her go lest she run again until he felt the hand of Tom guide him away from the younger girl. She almost preferred the outright rage of Arthur over the chilling coldness of Thomas, at least with the former, his true intentions were always clear. John soon arrived behind the men and took to consoling Arthur while Thomas pushed the girl to side of the road. Unwilling, she attempted to hold her ground against the man though a stronger grip on her upper arm and a stern look from his piercing eyes encouraged her to comply. She kept her head low has he was still catching his breath from the conflict and subsequent jog to catch his fleeing sister. Finally, in a low, gruff voice, he spoke.
“In the club, ye?” She nodded her head but still wouldn’t meet the man’s eyes. Instead, she peered past him to see John and Arthur leaned in close to one another talking. Arthur waving his hands around like a lunatic while John tries to calm him down. Out of all her brothers, her and John butted heads the most. Maybe it was the age difference, sitting at just enough years to give them not much in common but enough to argue about. Though, when it was all said and done, she knew John would have her back just as much, if not more, than anyone else. She met his eyes in a quick glance before turning back to Tom’s shoes. Now, the more pragmatic Shelby took in a deep breath to gather his thoughts before continuing the conversation with his sister.
“Why? Eh?” He said quieter this time. She couldn’t tell if his low voice was an attempt to deescalate the situation or to intimidate her into telling the truth. Well, the truth as it may be, wasn’t that interesting. Emily shrugged and only spared him a small glance up. She went to the Eden club that evening for the same reason as any other girl of her year would; to have fun.
“You have no business being at those clubs. Getting yourself fucking killed, right?” He said lowering himself to her level, even closer to her face. Her jaw tensed as she thought of a thousand words she could say back to him.
“Everything was fine until you bastards shot up the place.”
“Weren’t you just at the same club, Tom?”
“It’s none of your business what I do.”
Using her better judgment though, she held her tongue. The irony of the situation was not lost on Tommy. He knew that the standard he held for his sister was much different than he held for the men of the family, though he held it steadfast. At the end of the day, he knew Emily was a good girl. Smart, calculated, quick, and usually honest. When the silence hung in the air for too long, he took a gentle hand and guided her face to meet his eyes.
“Don’t scare me like that again.” He said pointedly with his finger pointed at her face. Emily pursed her lips and gave a curt nod before he pulled her in for a quick but firm hug and placed one kiss on the top of her head. Trying to break away from the clutches are her brother once more she took a step away from Thomas and said,
“I’ll see you at home,” before attempting to leave in the opposite direction. He let out a sigh once again and wrapped a strong, possessive hand around her arm once more. His lips parted and he eyebrow went up in astonishment, almost as if he was testing her to defy him once again. She looked in his eyes a moment longer, unwavering, before following him back to the other men. Thomas cleared his throat and released the grasp on the girl before speaking,
“Let’s just go home, shall we.” The four walked in uncomfortable silence back to the car, just over a block away from the fateful scene. As they walked, her oldest brother moved closer to her eventually putting a hand on her upper back and bending down to her level.
“You knows I just want to protect you, right, love?” He offered in a nicer tone than before. Emily knew and nodded a reply.
“I know.”
“It’s just you can’t go running around like that.” Before he could get another sentence out, Thomas called out from the front of the group.
“She knows, brother.” They eventually made it to the Bentley and it was John that opened the door for his sister to enter the back seat. As she took the less-than-sober step up into the vehicle her brother gently pushed her, just to see how unstable she was.
“Acting like a fuckin’ harlot,” John laughed quietly to chastise the younger girl. Quickly, Emily turned to face him hunched over in the car and raised her purse as if she was going to hit him.
“Oi, you fuckin’ bastard!” She seethed. Before the two could go at it Thomas darted a look at them in the rear view mirror and raised his voice in a menacing shout.
“Enough!” Was all it took for the pair to quiet down and sit silently for the rest of the ride home.
#cillian murphy fanfiction#tommy Shelby fanfition#Shelby family#peaky blinder fanfiction#Shelby sister fanfiction#tommy shelby x sister!reader#writing#Shelby family fanfiction#thomas shelby#peaky blinders imagine#tommy shelby imagine#thomas shelby imagine#futurefamousdeadmusician#fanfiction
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Past Lives | Izzy Hands x Reader
Izzy Hands x Gn!Reader
Summary: Quite some time has passed since you joined the crew of The Revenge per being saved, and you've grown particularly close to the one who brought you aboard. One night in particular is breathtaking and you decide you cannot contain your feelings anymore, but you had never learned exactly how to express these sorts of feelings to another person, let alone Izzy Hands. So, you do so in the only way you know how.
Warnings: slight angst/tension, slight avoidant attachment style (w/resolution though), kissing, some strong language
Word count: 2264 (some longer ones coming your way in the near future, though!)
A/N: hi hi lovely people! This is honestly the first x reader I've written since I was probably 14-15, so please bear that in mind! My interpretation of Izzy I feel like, isn't always 100% representative of him in the show itself, but I feel like I tried to capture him at his core while exploring this more sensitive side of him that we are getting in season 2, perhaps more of a what he is on the pathway to being, and therefore already is, if that makes any sense. Just has to be unlocked in levels. Plus, Izzy deserves the world so I just wanted to write something sweet to dip my toe back into this sort of writing. Anyhow, I'd like to get back into the habit of writing these so please, do request! I hope you all enjoy this one, comments are much appreciated xx
The stars illuminated the sky in such a way that it almost looked like a painting—a bit too picturesque, like one of those artworks that only aristocrats could afford to have on the wall of their ornate mansions passed through the centuries, or even built and curated just for them. Nonetheless, it was breathtaking, and the fresh air coursed through your veins and senses so effortlessly and made you feel alive. Nights like these weren't meant to be spent hidden away in your quarters and you knew that. Once you were sure everyone had retired for the night, you quietly crept onto the main deck, ready for your moment of solace that you had been seeking for weeks now.
You approached one of the railings, scanning across the deck still to see if anyone had been lurking nearby. The coast was clear, and finally, you found somewhere to lean on as you stared out into the night sky, the wind blowing through even the hairs on your neck, making them stand. On occasion, you'd be sprayed by the sea but it was the most at peace you had felt in weeks.
"Rough night?" you heard someone quietly call from a short distance away. You almost jumped, but you quickly turned around only to see Izzy Hands. Relief washed over you, as did a nervous feeling that had only begun recently. You inhaled sharply as Izzy waltzed over, thanking the stars for not illuminating this spot too much, therefore being no way he saw you craving that much air in your lungs. He leaned beside you on the railing, awaiting your reply.
"Not at all," you admitted. "Quite the opposite. It's so beautiful out tonight."
Izzy only nodded. He joined you in looking out at the landscape presented before him. In all of his years of sailing, it was all he had ever known--the sky and the sea, yet, he had never thought it to be this ravishing before. He never noticed how lovely it could be. Being here with you, he saw it all in a new light. He discreetly glanced over at you once again. He had noticed the way your lips slightly parted when you saw something you liked, and the way your shoulders lowered when you were relaxed. He noticed that you'd twiddle your thumbs when you were truly happy—in fact, you happened to be doing it right now. Izzy allowed his lips to curl into a smile upon realizing this. Finally, he broke the silence.
"I've never seen anything like this," he admitted, almost out of breath whilst he was still looking over at you. You still hadn't noticed.
"Isn't it...divine?" you chuckled. "Beautiful seems too weak a word."
"I feel the opposite. I don't think I've ever described anything as beautiful before."
"Really? Not once?"
Izzy shook his head. "Saving it for something special, I guess."
Silence filled the space between the two of you once again, but for once in your life, it was a comfortable silence. You looked out at the sea, but this time, you could feel Izzy's eyes on you. You attempted to discreetly glance his way, and you couldn't help but smile when you locked eyes. You looked away as you practically felt your cheeks burning and your stomach turning, and you hoped to the sea gods that you weren't falling ill. But these forlorn feelings felt honestly incredible, for once. A wave of confusion crashed over you, and it was growing more and more difficult to ignore.
"You alright?" Izzy inquired with genuine concern. This entire time, his eyes have not left you.
"What? Me?"
Izzy chuckled. "Who else?"
"Fine. Just fine."
"Just fine?"
"Do you believe in past lives?" you suddenly heard yourself ask, and already you were cursing yourself for it.
"Past lives?" Izzy repeated pensively. You nodded, looking over at him intently. It took him a moment to think of a response, and even still, he seemed unsure. "This sure as hell feels like the first time I'm living. Otherwise I probably wouldn't have made a lot of the decisions and mistakes I've made, I suppose."
You felt your heart sink, and it almost felt like there was no way to retrieve it. "I see. Well, goodnight."
Without letting Izzy have another word, you scurried back to your quarters, tears streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You awoke the next morning with a sharp pain in your chest. You winced as you forced yourself out of bed, though as you dressed, the feeling began to dissipate. You almost teared up again upon reminiscing last night. What were you thinking, asking something like that of Israel Hands? Where did that even come from? Why did his answer hurt so terribly? A million thoughts swarmed around in your head like flies, and there wasn't much you could do to swat them away. You felt like holing yourself up in your room but you knew that with Stede as one of the captains, this wasn't much of an option. After hovering your hand above the doorknob for what seemed like ages, you finally twisted it, revealing yourself to the crew. Already, everyone seemed to be intertwined in their usual antics and fuckeries--it would have been fun and refreshing to see if not for the somber mood you were in. Lucius waved you over, and you seriously thought of walking right past him, but he was your dear friend, like a brother to you and you wouldn't have forgiven yourself if you dismissed him. You trudged over to him, and he immediately recognized your gloom.
"Well good morning, mopey," Lucius teased, nudging you in the shoulder.
"Not today, Luci," you mumbled. "Not today."
Lucius' smile dropped, though he raised a brow. "Talk to me. Who do I need to punch?"
"No one. I'm just having a bad day."
"You are such a bad liar."
"I just don't wanna talk about it," you grumbled. Lucius was at a loss for words, but thankfully you knew just what to say. "The sky was lovely last night. If only you'd been awake to sketch it. You're the only one who would have done it any justice."
"Maybe I'll have another chance tonight," Lucius said hopefully.
"Maybe you will," you breathed out as suddenly, none other than Izzy himself appeared onto the deck. You gulped and turned away from him immediately.
"Whoa, whoa. What's going on with you and Iz—“
"—I don't wanna talk about it," you almost seethed. Before you knew it, a finger tapped your shoulder. You swiveled around, fighting the tears in your eyes.
"Got a minute?"
"Not exactly."
"What better do you have to do?" Izzy demanded. Your jaw dropped, and you were waiting for your thoughts to catch up with your mouth but they never did. "That's what I thought. Come on, Y/N."
"Later, okay? Not right now. Tonight," you promised. "That's my best offer."
"I'll hold you to it."
You immediately realized the mistake you had made, and how difficult and miraculous it would be to get through this entire day before possibly knowing what Izzy wanted from you.
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
The shadow of the moon was present once again, and for once, you dreaded the wonders of nighttime. It felt perilous and peculiar now, like a friend you didn't quite recognize anymore. But, a promise was a promise, you'd be damned if you broke one, let alone this one. As frustrated and almost devastated as you were, you'd never allow yourself to break a promise to Izzy. You pulled your favorite capelet over your shoulders and started toward the deck to find Izzy already waiting in your usual spot. You hadn't realized it until now, but this really was your and Izzy's spot. It's where you wiped away his tears when he cried in front of you the first time, it's where he sat with you countless times when you couldn't sleep, it's where the two of you conversed until dawn frequently. Always this spot. It took everything in you to fight off a pang of joy upon experiencing such an epiphany. Izzy didn't notice that you had appeared beside him until you looked over at him finally.
"Are you alright? You seemed a bit...I don't know. Not yourself this morning, and last night."
"I'm fine," you shrugged, knowing Izzy would see right through you like you were a phantom.
"I don't buy that for a second," Izzy rolled his eyes. And with that, silence surrounded you both once again. It frustrated Izzy to no end that he couldn't figure out what was plaguing you. He always felt as if he was able to put a finger on whatever it was that bothered you, he prided himself on knowing you that well. The last thing he wanted was for you to become a stranger after all the two of you had endured together. The thought of losing you filled him with a sorrow he had never felt before.
"I'm sorry about what I asked you last night. About past lives and stuff," you suddenly said. Yet another moment where your mind and mouth weren't synced. You regretted saying this as soon as you began to speak, but you knew that once you did, there would be no stopping, no taking anything back.
"What was that all about, anyway?" Izzy implored. You almost scoffed at his tone but when you met eyes with him, you instantly realized that he genuinely wished to know. His eyes sort of twinkled when he was curious, and this was the first time you noticed such an endearing phenomenon.
"I just," you exhaled, pausing before you spoke again, this time choosing your words carefully. "Why'd you save me that day at Jackie's?"
Izzy was taken aback at such a question. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Not at all, actually," you laughed in annoyance, which was only a coping mechanism for the extreme anxiety you were undergoing in this moment.
"I honestly can't give you an answer you'd want," Izzy admitted. "I just felt...called to. I could tell it would be nice having you around here. I wanted to give you a place you could call home."
"So, wait, you care about me?" you inquired seriously, which only earned a chuckle of disbelief from him.
"Of course I do, dammit!"
"I don't know, Iz, I just...from the moment we met I felt this connection to you and I can't explain it. No matter how hard I could try, I won't be able to. I felt like I was meant to be around you."
"You think I didn't feel that way, too?"
"You did?" you asked, a glint of hope looming in your voice.
"Of course I did. And, I do. I can't explain it either. But I felt as if we were meant to be around each other, in each other's lives. I don't know," he rambled nervously. This was the first time you had seen Izzy like this. It was a side of him you weren't even sure he possessed until now.
"I guess I sort of caked that to the past life shit," you sighed. "And when you said you didn't believe in past lives, I freaked out and took that as you not caring about me and everything we've built just felt like a huge lie."
"Everything we've built," Izzy repeated.
"I'm so sorry," you laughed embarrassedly. "I don't know what I'm talking about."
"No," Izzy cut you off, putting his gloved finger to your lips. You could feel Izzy's breath on your face. "If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have asked you to come with me. I had only known you for a few moments and I already knew you would be...important to me."
You were absolutely baffled. You opened your mouth to speak, and not a sound escaped it. Izzy took a step closer to you, slowly moving his hand to cup the right side of your face.
"And it helps that you are just...beautiful," he whispered as your foreheads touched. You could've sworn your heart was going a million miles a minute and that you would need some sort of village medic after this. As if it were instinct, your hand made its way into his carefully swept hair, and it felt like silk between your fingers. All of your worries suddenly melted away as you melted into one another, your lips brushing up against one another's. You nodded pleadingly, yes, you wanted this, followed by a nod from Izzy and finally, like puzzle pieces, your lips connected. It felt effortless and so, so right to share such closeness. Two becoming one, two souls merging to create a love bigger than either of you. A love that had been carefully crafted ever since the first day of meeting. A love that the both of you knew would inevitably take hold, because it always did in all the stories you devoured and then later went on to show to Izzy. A love that you had craved since you heard of the concept of it. A love that Izzy never thought he would attain in his lifetime.
You gasped happily for air, yet your foreheads still touched. Izzy gazed at you as if you were the only other person in the world and the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon.
"Perhaps I haven't had any past lives," Izzy breathed. "but I will have love for you in all my next."
#our flag means death#ofmd#ofmd s2#ofmd season 2#izzy hands#izzy hands x reader#x reader#gender neutral reader#second person pov#reader insert#izzy hands my beloved#the revenge#israel hands#ofmd izzy#ofmd izzy hands#fanfic#fanfiction#this is my first x reader in years pls be kind
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02/03-04 Daily OFMD Recap
TLDR; Reminder! UK Launch! Wee John Monday!; Cast & Crew Sightings; Day Of Damien Recap; New Nominations; StewAsACrew; S1 Rewatch Party; Tumblr Posts; Articles; Save OFMD Crew Mascot Jeff; Hoist the Ads Followup; Poison Into Positivity with a huge Donation; Morale/LoveNotes/Daily Darby all wrapped up in a Cameo from Rhys Darby Courtesy of @adoptourcrew
Heyyyyyyyy I'm back! I had a great day off-- ty for all the lovely well wishes! Annnnnnnd holy moly did I miss some stuff only being gone ONE DAY. I'm trying to catch up so apologies if you've already heard this or if I'm missing anything! Thank you to @sgtblackbirdpie for keeping me up to date on some stuff while I was out!
= Reminders for Tomorrow! =
= UK Launch! =
Reminders from our lovely @lamentus1!
We'll be tweeting #RewatchAsACrew #OurFlagBBC in addition to the usual #AdoptOurCrew #SaveOFMD
Season 2 will start at 10pm on Monday Feb 5, so that’s 5pm ET and 2pm PT.
If you are outside the UK and want to help support the launch, you can connect with a VPN using these instructions also @reallygoodplants has a great post on how to do so here on tumblr as well
= Wee John Monday! =
EDIT: Important update! Time is at 2130 UK time for the first new Wee John Monday! This will be one time only to try and start up before the show airs. Thank you @atomicruinsperfection for this info!!
Wee John Monday! Want to have your questions answered tomorrow during the show?
You can go a few different places to do so:
Discord / Twitter / Instagram
= Cast & Crew Sightings =
Our lovely captain decided to put himself up for Cameos at $499 a pop. If you're flush with cash and interested, feel free to check out Rhys Darby's Cameo.
I didn't put it here because it fits in the Moral/Love notes section--- but a fan GOT ONE OF THESE for themselves and all of us in the crew. Jump down to the very bottom for a love note from Rhys As well.
= Nathan Foad BTS =
Nathan Foad posted a bunch of new BTS in honor of s2 coming out in the UK tomorrow! Samba and Vico added a bunch of those to their IG stories as well. There were LOTS of pictures and videos, so many that I can't include them all. Here's a side post with a bunch of photos, but if you want to see them all, please visit Nathan Foad's IG Stories.
=Day of Damien 02/03 =
Our lovely Damien Gerard really felt the love yesterday! Everyone sent love notes, gifts, and generally tried to celebrate our lovely friend on Day Of Damien and it made his night. He sent us lots of kitties pics and videos in return.
= NEW NOMINATIONS =
Our Flag Means Death has been nominated for the 28th Art Director's Guild Awards for a Half-Hour Series!
= Stew As A Crew / S1 Re-Watch party! =
Soooo many people came out for the S1 Re-Watch Party and also Stew As A Crew! Keeping that engagement going across all the platforms! I tried to highlight several but there were so many more!
=S1 Rewatch Party=
Everybody came back out for the S1 Watch Party to help support S2 being aired for the first time tomorrow in the UK! Some highlights!
== Tumblr Posts ==
Don't Stream on Max - by @iamadequate1 is absolutely a must read. They did some SERIOUSLY amazing analysis and data collecting on all the shows max has cancelled recently.
== Articles ==
TV guide: 12 of the best new shows to watch, beginning tonight
Save “Our Flag Means Death” – Another Great Gay Series On The Chopping Block - From Feb 2
==Save OFMD Crew==
Save OFMD Crew have announced their mascot/ambassador-- JEFF! As you've been seeing in all their social icons. Check out their post here.
Hoist The Ads Follow Up
Since I keep seeing posts about hoist the ads being a scam again, I'm going to once again share the receipts for Hoist The Ads
Tumblr / Twitter / Instagram
== Poison Into Positivity ==
So yesterday, a bunch of people started receiving what looked to be scam from group called entertainmintco. We got notified by @adoptourcrew and @saveofmdcrewmates of it earlier in the day:
Warnings were sent out, and people from the leadership teams started getting serious with this group, but luckily it looks like it was a mistake that entertainmintco was willing to admit to.
They then put out a statement explaining the situation, and donated $1000 to an LGBTQIA+ Supportive NonProfit: Rainbow Railroad for the trouble they'd caused.
Annnd they also shared our petition!
So overall, everything turned out okay! Definitely a weird one! But $1000 donation to supporting LGBTQIA+? Fantastic! Seriously poision into positivity. Thank you @AdoptOurCrew, @saveofmdcrewmates, and @LCWebsXOXO especially for turning that scam into splendor!
Post Note: There's been some questions on if there's a focus group actually going on-- I don't believe so but I'm asking and will get back to you!
== Morale / Love Notes / Daily Darby ==
Now, I'm sure most of you have seen this by now because it's exploding everywhere, but just in case not, I am going to highlight it as the last thing for today.
@meowzawowza_ went out and got one of Rhys' Cameos for themselves and the crew-- ty @adoptourcrew for sharing it with us. I recommend watching them where ever you can because when I say my hope is renewed, I sincerely mean it.
There's nothing I or anyone else could say that would equal the impact of Rhys' message. Our captain sends his advice and love.
Tumblr / Twitter / Instagram
For more on the unedited parts of the video, @meowzawowza_ gives more deets: @ofmd-ann has a thread you can view here
"Life keeps rock'n ... You can't have peaks without troughs...thank you so much for being you and being so supportive ... love you, bye crew"
#daily ofmd recap#ofmd daily recap#ofmd daily recaps#rhys darby#adopt our crew#hoist the ads#save ofmd#save ofmd crew#ofmd#our flag means death#renew as a crew#save our flag means death#nathan foad#ofmd bts
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Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader)
a/n: again, no one asked for this, but i've been rewatching supernatural and there is something about season 5 Lucifer that just hits the spot for me. this one will be multiple chapters (i swear), a bit on the darker side. Cross-Posted on AO3
Warnings: Dub-Con (nothing too scandalous), Soulmates (but not really), follows season 5 storyline, Kinda Depressing, Strongly Inspired by "Preacher's Daughter" by Ethel Cain
Summary: Knowing God has an actual plan for you would be comforting for most people. You, however, seem to be always down on your luck.
PT.2
The foliage is damp with the night's air, water seeping into the fabric of your jeans, as you sit in the low bushes, watching. Smoke still fills your lungs, and grief still fills your heart, Jo and Ellen's faces etched just beneath your eyelids. Tears stain your cheeks, drying slowly on your skin, forming an uncomfortable crust. It's been such a long time since you've experienced loss such as this. One that rips something out of you and refuses to give it back. You must've grown too comfortable since Dean has been brought back, life needed to bring you back down. Your hands hurt from the tight grip you hold on a branch of a nearby tree, nerves locking you in place, as you watch Dean approach the Devil. Except, you're not there anymore.
It's warm inside Bobby's home, and you've changed out of your past outfit, scattering it on the floor, never to be used again. Still, you can feel phantom moisture on your knees, elbows, on the palms of your hands. Coldness, like nothing you've ever experienced, seeps deep into your bones, taking root within you. No candle, no prayer, no ancient exorcism can cleanse you of the revelations you've seen tonight. Your head feels heavy, when you drop it onto the pillow, as if some weight is pressing you further down, through the comforter, through the bed and the wooden floor. Through all the layers of Earth, until you're right where you're supposed to be.
It's unfortunate, you thought back then, compelled to reveal yourself from your hideout by one command you couldn't ignore, he looks just like any human. Tall and lean, with a little softness to his body. His clothes were unassuming as well, casual. As if he just took a stroll through the woods from a supermarket. No one told you the name of his vessel, who he was before he said yes, why did he do it. His eyes were ordinary as well. Blue and gray, aged, tired. Human.
It would've been so easy to pass him on the streets, not knowing. He could've been one of the patrons in the countless bars you've visited while on the hunt. Handsome, yes, with an aura of a beaten dog around him, that, in any other circumstances would've made him irresistable to you. You could never refuse a hopeless case, now you supposed you knew why.
Sam made you tea. It sits untouched on your night stand, steam flowing in dancing ribbons into the ceiling. Somehow, you can't seem to force yourself to drink it, even if you know the intention behind it has been kind. You couldn't eat as well, the smell of cooking coming from Bobby's kitchen reminded you too much of the smell of smoke coming from the exploding hardware store. And his smell.
Burning coals, cedar wood, jasmine, all of them were pleasant once. Now, you know they will always be stuck in your head with only one association. Lucifer.
Even thinking of his name brings a wave of shivers running down your back, as you curl into yourself on the bed. Your fingers scratch at skin of your jaw, trying to regain some sense of autonomy. Still, you can feel a phantom of his icy touch, where he grabbed your face like his hands were meant for it. And in a way they were. At least, that's what he told you.
The demons gathered around the mass grave didn't even react, as you ran out of your cover, pushed to reveal yourself by the sight of Dean's flying body. Because how else would he coax you out, if not through the hurt of your boys? In hindsight, you were glad Dean was unconscious for the most part of this ordeal. After the night's events, it was hard to look him in the eye, you didn't need him witnessing your downfall over your head as well. Sam tried to make his way over to you, feet sliding cautiously through the grass, but suddenly Lucifer's eyes were on you, and you could feel your fate get sealed then and there.
He clasped his hands in front of him, pursing his lips as he took you in, cowering on the ground, trying hard to find Dean's pulse.
- You boys brought me a gift - he mused, eyes crinkling with some strange emotion - You shouldn't have.
One gesture later, you're up on your feet, limbs trembling as he abandoned his shovel in favor of making his way towards you. You're frozen, fear seizing you in a tight grip, and you can't seem to think straight, as you watch him approach. Last day on Earth, you muse, life flashing before your eyes, when he raises both his hands. And then he grips your face, gentle yet confident, and the world around you spins. He's cold, so cold it's unnatural. Your lips fall apart in a silent gasp.
- Do you know who you are? - he asks in a quiet voice that suddenly makes you understand why he's temptation incarnate - Do you know why you were put on this Earth?
All you can do is stare, confusion creasing your eyebrows. His breath reaches your collarbones, as he lowers his head slightly. You can hear him chuckle to himself. The sound makes you shudder, fear and anticipation mix within your gut.
- All those years of hunting, struggling... - your life seems so trivial, coming from his lips - It all lead you here, to me. Doesn't that sound lovely?
It doesn't. It most definitely doesn't. Tears of confusion prick at the corners of your eyes, your breathing quickens. Panic settles into your nerves like a paralyzing blanket. Because here stands a threat of magnitude you couldn't even dream of. The Satan, the Devil, Bible's biggest villain. And he knows something about you, that you cannot comprehend.
- It's really quite pathetic, when you think about it - he muses, hands leaving your face in a flash, as he starts to pace in thought.
Swaying in your place, you risk looking at Sam, his confusion mirroring your own. Dean is still unconscious beside him. There's a thin smudge of blood running down his forehead, and you want to move so badly. You've spent years caring for these boys, being there for them, whenever they needed you. Yet, at this crucial moment all you can do, is stare in horror.
- My Father's last ditched attempt - Lucifer turns to you with a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes - To give me my own special little bag of worms. To own, to care for, to change my mind.
- What?
Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears. Lies. Those had to be lies. He's Satan after all, manipulation was his forte. Yes, that had to be it. Just another, messed up way at getting an upper hand over Sam.
This time, you nearly scream when he advances towards you, his cold hands immediately finding purchase on your face, covering your jaw and your cheeks. He presses against your face so hard, you have to take a step back as he comes closer still. Sam's figure flashes out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly you feel the rough surface of a tree bark digging into your back.
- You - for the first time you can hear some tension in his voice, something more than cold indifference - You were made for me, Honey. Just like Sam is destined to be my vessel, you're destined to be by my side. To own, to care. - he repeats those words like a mantra, and you want to throw up at how genuine he sounds.
He smiles at your terror. Tears start to flow freely from your eyes, falling on his cold fingers, skipping down his arms in smudges. His hands start to move, a perversion of a caress, as he ruffles your hair. Your head bounces off the tree, and you try with all your might to free yourself out of his grip. Your limbs flail at your sides, and you crane your neck so far back, your muscles start to strain. He doesn't let go, pressing himself closer, one of his hands coming up to grip your hair. Your nails dig into his cotton shirt, as you push against his chest to no avail.
- No - you whisper, your rejection falling flat against his unaffected stare - I'd never...
- See, but that's the best part - his sudden enthusiasm scares you deeper, than any passive stare ever could. - Unlike Sam...
You backpedal into the tree again, as he leans closer still. His cold breath mixes with your short, panicked ones, and your stomach churns, when he tilts his head in curiosity, as if he's experiencing this intimacy for the first time. And in a way, you suppose he is. Then, his eyes meet yours, gray captivates you, and you hold your breath on instinct.
- You don't have to say yes to me.
You're not even allowed the decency of taking a gasp of air, when his lips press into yours. It feels beyond weird. He's unnaturally cold, and there is a sort of unpracticed sloppiness in the way he fights for your mouth to fit against each other. Reminding you of your first, inexperienced romances, he smashes your faces together until you feel both sets of your teeth through the flesh. Then, he pulls back just a smidgen, taking in your terrified face. Something flashes through his expression, and he sighs, leaning back towards you, stopping just short of your left ear.
- Kiss me like you mean it, or I'll make Dean eat his intestines.
He looks at you, just once, letting you know this is not a game. Your heart stops.
Dean's unconscious body starts to move by the tree, and never in your life have you felt so helpless. So, when Lucifer unavoidably leans back down, you give him all you've got. Your body arches, hands come up to his hair, and you will yourself not to feel grossed out by the feeling of his cold tongue slipping past your teeth. It's a fight for survival, you remind yourself, as his hands move to your back, rubbing your skin like a horny teenager in a bathroom stall. The short supply of air you've been granted runs out quickly, and as pressure builds in your lungs, you start to push against the Archangel's chest. He doesn't register what you're doing, not at first, confusing your sudden unwillingness as some sort of late attempt at rebellion. That is, until you bang your fist against his shoulder, letting out a muffled scream.
Finally, he detaches himself, hair even more disheveled than before. You take a heaving gasp of air, as you brace yourself against the tree, your vision swimming ever so slightly. Lucifer watches you, his body hunched over, as if he's observing some middle schooler's science project. There are new tears in your eyes, just waiting to fall. Your hair is disheveled and your lips are puffy from his unpracticed assaults. His right hand comes up to his face, and he bites on his index finger in thought.
- You really are human - he muses to himself, and with every fiber of your being, you try to explode his head with your brain - That's no fun, you'll break so easily...
- Fuck you - your words make his eyebrows raise, and he straightens out with a flourish.
- Fuck you - he repeats, mocking your tone - Yeah, I probably will - you watch, disgusted, as he sends a wink towards Sam.
Then, he's back to his shovel, back to his mass grave, where he completes the ritual.
You can't move, not really, even when Sam tugs on your shoulder. Your head runs empty, realization of your current predicament far from registered in your brain. You stay frozen in your spot, when Castiel arrives, taking the three of you back to Bobby's house. Only, when the Angel's hand pushes against your rib cage, only when you feel Enochian symbols burn into your bones, do you lift your gaze. Apologetic doesn't really cover the way Castiel looks at you, and the pity painted on his face drags you down more than any Devil could.
Sam is the only one to truly understand, when you fall to the floor, shock, anger and dread spilling out of you like a broken faucet. He's the only one that truly knows how it feels to have your bodily autonomy stripped away by the literal Devil. How it feels to have a threat of such magnitude hanging over you, every day. Which is why, he's the one to lift you in his arms, and get you to the guest room, lead away by the concerned glances of the rest of the men. He's the one to make you tea, bring you fresh clothes. He opens the window when the smell of dinner makes you retch. And finally, he's the one to explain, what really happened back on that hill to the rest of the group.
From your fetal position on the bed you can hear Dean curse, throw something somewhere. All the ways he knows, how to show he cares. Despite everything, it makes you smile, face pressed to the pillow that smells like cigarette smoke and beer. You're doomed. There's nothing you can do against God's plan, and you can feel that thought take root in you like an invasive species ready to destroy every crop in it's path. Still, despite it all, a sense of security falls upon you like a decieving blanket.
- What sort of a messed up game is this? - Dean screams somewhere in the house, you assume it's at Cass, the only one even remotely aware of your destiny.
The idea, that God made you specifically to be Satan's personal therapist sounds far fetched at best, but given how the last couple of months have been going, you're more inclined to believe in the absolutely worst scenarios. You don't even need to hear Castiel's response. The sound of glass breaking is telling enough. Then, a door slamms somewhere, and the house falls into heavy silence.
You can't think. Can't allow yourself to fall apart more than you've had already. So, you focus on the sound of your own breathing, interlinked with your heartbeat. Steady, alive. Your eyelids are heavy, eyes burn with drying tears, so you close them and sigh. Exhaustion pinns you in place, sinking you into the blankets. Darkness welcomes you like a long lost friend.
Your boys will find a way, they always do. And Lucifer can't find you, not with the wards Castiel has put on you. You'll have to thank him i the morning, you think, and it's the last conscious thought you have, before slipping into sleep, shivering like an abandoned child.
#my writing#supernatural#lucifer x reader#supernatural x reader#supernatural fanfiction#spn lucifer#spn#spn x reader#spn lucifer x reader#supernatural lucifer x reader#there will be three more parts so treat this an introduction#and there will be smut in the future#also some dark themes but yall know me i can't write anything else#anyways someone talk to me about season 5 or ill explode
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Being Team Japan’s Manager
Future Mx. Iwaizumi
Hajime Iwaizumi featuring Team Japan x GN! Manager
Warnings: fluff, swearing, Oiks and Sumu in the same hcs
AN: this is an anon request!
Ughhhhhh *punch’s air repeatedly*
It’s fine, I’m fine, this is fine 😐
What do I have to be jealous of?
I mean, sure you’re engaged Iwaizumi Hajime, 28, Athletic trainer
And sure you’re the manager for the Team Japan Men’s Volleyball Team
😐🙄 anyways, needless to say I’m extremely jealous of you YN
You’ve been dating Iwa for a while now
Actually even since you both met in College 🥰
You somehow managed to bag one of the hottest men in the entire universe and we won’t question it
Because you 👏🏻 deserve 👏🏻 it 👏🏻
Anyways, you are Iwa we’re always pretty low key about your relationship
I mean, Oikawa knew
Oikawa knows everything 🙄
But otherwise, you were pretty on the dl
It’s not that you didn’t love Haji or want to show him off but seriously nobody likes a bragger
Even thought you’d deserve to brag YN
I mean you bagged HAJIME IWAIZUMI so please brag away 😌
I’d be walking around like “this is my partner Iwaizumi Hajime, 28, Athletic Trainer. Isn’t he GORGEOUS!!!”
Fortunately you aren’t me and you are a humble being, who values your privacy with your fiancé
You and Iwa got engaged before you came back to Japan and before you both landed the gigs with Team Japan volleyball
Of course you both knew you were applying for each job and you encouraged each other
They were your dream jobs after all!
Not sure what universe you are living in to dream about managing toddler men Yn but you do you 😅
Anyways, you and Iwa were extremely professional while at practice
Of course, Kuroo and the coaches knew you were engaged
But the team, the team did not
And there were absolutely no problems
😂😂😂 literally couldn’t even type that with a straight face
N E WAYS the guys were literally feral at practice and around you
You and Iwa both agreed that you shouldn’t wear you engagement ROCK at practice
Because like, it can get caught on the net, your finger could get jammed, literally so many problems
You wanted to get a band for practice but you just hadn’t gotten around to it
Not like you aren’t super busy or anything 😐
“YN WHERE ARE THE TOWELS?”
“YN do you have an extra nail file?”
“YN can you help with blocking practice?”
“YN where’s Bokuto?”
“YN Hinata’s locked in the bathroom again!”
Literally not busy at all 🙄
You literally crashed every single night when you got home and Iwa understood why
While he had a training room to seek refuge in, you had nowhere to run
You literally had a trail of 6ft plus ducklings following you
Every once in and a while you’d manage to escape to visit Iwa
You’d walk through the doors of the training room as Haji would watch
“Hey babe, how’s it going?” He’d ask as you’d put your hand up, collapsing on of the training tables
“Please Haji, just 5 minutes of quiet,” you’d groan out as you tried to recover
5 seconds later
“YN? YN!!! Hey there you are?” Hinata would yell with Kageyama on his heels
Iwa is just rolling his eyes in the corner
You stand up, fixing your hair and staring at the two dummies
“Yes?” You grit out
“Can you measure our jumping height? Kageyama said I’m still not as high as he is!” Hinata says
“You’re still shorter than me you shrimp!” Kageyama growls
“SAY THAT TO MY FACE CRAPPYAMA!” Hinata yells
“I would but I’d have to bend down,” kageyama smirks 😏
“Alright- Alright!” Iwa says, breaking it up as you sighed
“I’ll be there in 2 minutes guys, please try not to kill each,” you add as they leave
Iwa walks over to you grabs you and gives you a big hug, “love you babe, we will get your favorite tonight for dinner to make up for these idiots.”
Needless to say, Hajime was your savior the whole training season
And when it came to the actual Olympics he was there to support you the entire time
As you prepared for your first game, our favorite Argentinian v.ball player came to visit 🥰
“There’s my precious YN-Chan!” Oikawa gushes as you stare
You 👉🏻😐🙄 hello Toru
Kageyama and Ushijima are fuming in the corner because like why are you talking to HIM 😤
“So when is the big day Yn? Have you and Iwa-Chan decided when you’re going to get hitched?” Toru says
Team Japans heads snap to you 👉🏻👁️👄👁️ excuse me-
“Ha ha good one Oikawa,” Aran says
“Why would you ship YN with Iwa and not me!” Atsumu says offended
“Wait they don’t know?” Oikawa says
“Who doesn’t know what?” Iwa says, standing next to you
“That you and YN are engaged,” Oikawa says as Team Japan just stares at you
“Say sike right now!” Atsumu cries
You and Iwa 👉🏻😐🙄 well it was good while it lasted-
“Shittykawa it’s because they didnt know!” Iwa says
“YN really?!?” Hinata gushes 🥹
Flower MAN material YN write it down ✍️
“Dang! Well I guess congratulations!” Yaku adds
“It’s not a big deal guys, we don’t talk about it much,” you say
“Really Yn? Because I’d totally brag about being engaged to Iwa if I were you!” Hoshiumi laughs
He’s not wrong Yn 😏
“Omg wait Yn can I be a bridesmaids? Or a brides man or a man groom?” Bokuto :D
You 👉🏻😐😳 uhhh
“No Bokuto I’m going to be the best man for YN! Or brides person? Or person of honor?” Hinata questions
You and Iwa 👉🏻🤨 well at least they aren’t nervous anymore
“Now now everyone, I’m going to be the only person standing up for YN and Iwa,” Oikawa 🥰
“Over my dead body!” Atsumu screams
“Shittykawa shut up!��� Iwa shouts
You just sigh, absolutely living your life ♥️
#haikyuu!!#haikyu!#haikyū!!#haikyu x you#haikyu x reader#gender neutral reader#haikyu x gender neutral reader#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi headcanons#iwaizumi fluff#hq iwaizumi#iwaizumi hcs#iwaizumi fanfic#haikyuu iwaizumi#iwaizumi x y/n#iwaizumi x gender neutral reader#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi x reader#haikyu timeskip headcanons#hq timeskip#timeskip iwaizumi#iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer#oikawa toru#oikawa is annoying#miya atsumu#hinata shoyo#bokuto kotaro#kageyama tobio#hq team japan#team japan volleyball
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Hello. I hope I'm not disturbing you. Your articles about the Volturi are really great. If you accept request. Can you write poly yandere volturi kings and female soulmate reader? Please
❝please don’t take our sunshine away❞
✭ pairing : yandere poly volturi kings x reader
✭ fandom : twilight
✭ summary : (y/n) has always been a ray of sunshine, it didn’t matter if she was having a bad day or what she had a habit of making others around her feel uncontrollable happiness but sometimes that happiness comes with a price
✭ twilight masterlist 2
(Y/N) had always been known for her infectious happiness. From the earliest days of her life, her parents could hardly recall a moment when she wasn't giggling or blabbering away to anyone who crossed her path, even if she couldn't understand a word they were saying in return. Her bright, ever-present smile seemed like a permanent fixture on her face as she grew up, and it was a source of joy for everyone who knew her.
One crisp autumn evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the town square, (Y/N) decided to take a leisurely stroll. Her heart was light, and she hummed a tune she had heard earlier in the day. It was just another ordinary evening in her ordinary life, filled with extraordinary happiness.
But tonight, fate had something unexpected in store for her. As she rounded a corner, she collided with a tall figure, causing both of them to stumble back. (Y/N) quickly regained her balance, her ever-present smile still firmly in place. However, when she looked at the person she had bumped into, her smile faltered for the first time in as long as she could remember.
It was Marcus, a man who was a familiar face in the town but known for entirely different reasons. Marcus was a solitary figure, often seen on late-night strolls, and he always carried an air of sadness about him. His eyes, once bright, seemed dull, and the weight of the world appeared to rest upon his shoulders.
Without a word, (Y/N) made an impulsive decision. Instead of offering a quick apology and continuing on her way, she fell into step beside Marcus, matching his slow, deliberate pace. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was palpable, but (Y/N) didn't mind. She had always believed that sometimes, company didn't need words.
It wasn't until they reached the center of the town square, bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, that Marcus finally broke the silence. He turned to (Y/N) and asked, "Why are you following me?"
(Y/N) looked up at him, her smile returning. "I'm not following you. I'm just keeping you company."
He seemed taken aback by her response. "But I haven't said a word since you joined me. Why would you want to be with someone who's so...silent?"
She shrugged, her eyes reflecting the warmth of the lamplight. "Sometimes, silence is the best company of all. And everyone needs a little company sometimes, even if it's just silent company."
Marcus didn't respond immediately, but (Y/N) could see a glimmer of something in his eyes—a spark of recognition, perhaps. It was a simple encounter, an unexpected meeting between two very different people, but it was a moment that had the potential to change both of their lives in ways they couldn't yet imagine.
As they stood there in the quiet of the town square, (Y/N) and Marcus, the happy and the sad, the talkative and the silent, found themselves sharing a moment of understanding that transcended words.
As the days passed, it became a familiar sight to see Marcus and (Y/N) walking together through the town. What had started as an unexpected encounter had evolved into a quiet companionship. Marcus, once known for his silence, began to open up to (Y/N) little by little. They talked about the weather, the changing seasons, and the happenings in the town.
One chilly evening, as they strolled along a cobblestone path, (Y/N) turned to Marcus with a gentle smile and asked, "What's been weighing on your heart, Marcus? You've been carrying a sadness that's hard to miss. Is there something you'd like to share?"
Marcus hesitated for a moment, then let out a long sigh. "It's nearing the anniversary of when I lost my wife," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every year, this time brings back the memories, and it's hard to bear."
(Y/N)'s face softened with empathy, and she frowned. Without hesitation, she stepped closer to Marcus and wrapped her arms around him in a warm, comforting hug. Marcus was taken aback by the sudden gesture of affection, his undead heart skipping a beat at her unexpected warmth.
"I'm sorry for your loss, Marcus," (Y/N) whispered, her voice filled with genuine sympathy. "It's always hard losing those we love most. But always remember that they're by your side and in your heart at all times. You're never truly alone. Sure, they aren't here physically, but mentally and spiritually, they'll never depart you."
As (Y/N) pulled away from the hug, she met Marcus's gaze with a reassuring smile. But something in that smile caused Marcus's eyes to widen, a spark of intensity flickering within them. It was a momentary shift, a subtle change that (Y/N) might have brushed off as a trick of the light if she had been anyone else.
But Marcus was not just anyone. Unbeknownst to (Y/N), the warmth she had shown him, the understanding, and the empathy had awakened something deep within him. A possessive desire, a yearning for her companionship that bordered on obsession. It was a dangerous path that Marcus had unknowingly started down, one that would lead him to protect (Y/N) at all costs, even if it meant losing himself in the process.
As they continued their walk, the night around them seemed to grow darker, and the bond between Marcus and (Y/N) deepened, setting the stage for a connection that would become increasingly intense and complex in the days to come.
The small town had its share of curious residents, and one of the most inquisitive was Aro. He had noticed the change in Marcus's routine—no longer was he the solitary figure wandering the town's streets in the late hours. Instead, Marcus had been frequently spotted with (Y/N), a happy and talkative presence by his side.
One evening, Aro decided to approach Marcus as he was leaving his home. "Marcus," he called out, his voice polite but laced with curiosity. "I couldn't help but notice you've been spending a lot of time with a human lately. Any particular reason for your late-night strolls together?"
Marcus turned to Aro, his expression suddenly cold and distant. "Why do you care?" he replied tersely, his tone devoid of its usual politeness.
Taken aback by Marcus's sharp response, Aro stammered, "I was just curious, Marcus. No need to be so defensive."
But Marcus didn't offer any further explanation. Instead, he turned away and walked off into the night, leaving Aro standing there, perplexed by his friend's unusual behavior.
Aro couldn't shake off the feeling that something had changed in Marcus, something that went beyond the surface. Determined to find out more, he made a quick decision. He signaled to Demetri, a loyal friend who had a knack for discreetly following people, and quietly instructed him to tail Marcus without being noticed.
As Demetri blended into the shadows and followed Marcus at a safe distance, Aro couldn't help but wonder what secrets his darling brother might be hiding and what had caused this sudden shift in his demeanor.
Demetri returned to Aro with his findings, delivering a report in hushed tones as they stood in the dimly lit streets of the town. His observations were clear and concise, painting a picture of Marcus's growing attachment to (Y/N).
"It's unmistakable, Aro," Demetri whispered, his eyes cautious. "Marcus is falling in love with (Y/N). Their connection goes beyond mere companionship. He watches her with an intensity I've never seen in him before."
Aro's features hardened at the revelation. Love, in the vampire world, was a dangerous and forbidden emotion. It made their kind vulnerable, and Aro was determined to protect his coven's secrets at all costs. He couldn't allow Marcus to jeopardize everything they had built.
One night, when Marcus was occupied with a task away from the town, Aro made a chilling decision. He would confront (Y/N) and eliminate the threat she posed to their kind. He believed it was the only way to save Marcus from himself.
As Aro approached (Y/N)'s home, his heartless resolve held firm. He knew what he had to do, and he was prepared to do it without hesitation. But when he knocked on her door and saw her welcoming smile as she opened it, something within him shifted.
(Y/N) had no knowledge of Aro's intentions. She greeted him warmly, inviting him inside, completely unaware of the danger she was in. Aro could feel his undead heart skip a beat as he looked into her eyes, filled with genuine kindness and trust.
In that moment, something inside Aro awakened—a twisted, possessive desire that went beyond his initial intent. He couldn't bring himself to harm her, not when she looked at him with such innocence and warmth.
Aro abruptly excused himself, leaving (Y/N) unharmed but bewildered. He retreated into the shadows, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He knew he couldn't kill her, but he couldn't allow Marcus to continue his attachment either. Especially not when he found himself entangled in her web of sunshine, so he decided on a different course of action.
In secret, Aro began contacting (Y/N). Early in the mornings, he would leave bouquets of beautiful flowers on her doorstep, each with a note signed simply with the initials A.V. He couldn't resist the temptation of being close to her, of having her know that he existed in her world.
As these secret gestures continued, Aro's thoughts deepened, and soon they begin to take a turn for the worst. He found himself drawn further into the web of obsession and desire. (Y/N) remained unaware of the dark forces that now watched over her, and the consequences of this forbidden connection were yet to fully unfold.
Aro had made up his mind – (Y/N) could not remain a human who knew of both Marcus and him. The existence of vampires had to remain a secret, and he was willing to go to great lengths to ensure it. He needed a vampire who was willing to sire her, and he knew exactly where to turn – Caius.
Approaching Caius in the dimly lit chamber where the Volturi convened, Aro explained his plan. "Caius, I have a proposition for you," he began, his voice dripping with persuasive charm.
Caius regarded Aro with a skeptical expression. "What's in it for me, Aro?“
Aro smiled, knowing how to appeal to Caius's desires. "It's been centuries since one of us has sired a new vampire. Think of the power and influence that would come with having a fledgling under your control. It would be a demonstration of your strength."
Caius's interest was piqued, but he remained cautious. "And who is this human you have in mind?"
Aro provided Caius with (Y/N)'s address, allowing him to watch her from the shadows. At first, Caius couldn't see anything particularly special about her. She appeared to be an ordinary human, going about her daily life in the town.
However, as he continued to observe, he noticed something intriguing. People seemed to gravitate toward her, drawn to her presence as if by an invisible force. It was as if she possessed a unique magnetism that drew others in.
Caius saw the potential in her and believed that her gift, whatever it may be, would shine even brighter as a vampire. He agreed to Aro's plan, and they set the wheels in motion.
One fateful night, as (Y/N) walked home alone, Caius attacked her swiftly and silently. He gave her a small amount of his venom, enough to begin the transformation into a vampire, and left her there, gasping for breath.
Demetri, under Aro's orders, arrived just in time to rescue (Y/N) from the brink of death. He spirited her away to a secluded house far from the town, where she would complete her transformation in secret.
The transformation into a vampire was agonizing, filled with searing pain and screams that echoed through the empty house. Demetri watched over her, ensuring that no one would hear her suffering. It was a cruel and calculated plan, orchestrated by Aro.
As (Y/N)'s human life faded away, she was reborn as a vampire, her journey into the world of the undead marked by betrayal and secrecy, setting the stage for a dark and complex future.
As (Y/N) gradually regained consciousness, her surroundings were strange and disorienting. The last thing she remembered was walking home alone at night, and now she found herself in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by three strangers. Panic surged through her as she tried to make sense of the situation.
Aro, with his ever-calming demeanor, stepped forward and spoke gently, "Do not be afraid, my dear. We are only here to help."
(Y/N)'s eyes darted between the three men, her heart racing with fear and confusion. "Where am I? Who are you?"
Caius, the one who had turned her, took a step forward and offered a reassuring smile. "My name is Caius. We found you in a dire state, half-dead, and I made the decision to save your life."
(Y/N) was still disoriented, her memories muddled and elusive. She couldn't recall how she had ended up in this predicament or who these people were. But Caius's words had an immediate effect on her. Gratitude overwhelmed her fear, and she threw her arms around him, thanking him for saving her life.
Demetri, who had been silently observing the scene, felt a pang of discomfort as he watched (Y/N) embrace Caius. He knew that this display of affection was a ruse, a part of the plan to keep her in the dark about her true nature. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he saw her gratitude directed toward Caius.
Aro, too, felt a subtle undercurrent of jealousy as he watched (Y/N) with Caius. Though he would never openly admit it, he couldn't deny the strange pull she had on him, the unexplainable desire to be close to her.
But for now, they had successfully deceived (Y/N) into believing that her transformation was an act of salvation, rather than a calculated move to protect the vampire world's secrets. As she clung to Caius with gratitude in her newly immortal life, the complex dynamics among Aro, Caius, and Demetri were set in motion, with (Y/N) at the center of it all, unaware of the truth hidden in her missing memories.
In the moonlit expanse of the Volturi castle, Marcus paced uneasily through the grand hallways. His mind was consumed by one thought, or rather, one person - (Y/N). It had been days since he had last seen her, and a growing sense of suspicion nestled in his heart.
He had noticed the way Aro and Caius had been acting strangely lately, whispering secrets that excluded him and sneaking off to places unknown. Marcus had always been perceptive, especially when it came to the actions of his fellow Volturi leaders. These changes did not escape his watchful gaze.
One chilly night, Marcus decided he could no longer ignore the burning curiosity within him. He followed Aro and Caius as they slipped away from the castle and into the dense, ancient forest surrounding Volterra. He knew better than to question them directly; he needed to uncover the truth himself.
Hidden behind a thick cluster of trees, Marcus watched from a distance as Aro and Caius entered a remote cabin. The moon painted their silhouettes against the dark night. He waited in silence, the chill seeping into his bones as minutes turned into hours.
Eventually, the door creaked open, and Aro and Caius exited the cabin. Marcus knew it was his chance. As the two vampires disappeared into the night, he slipped inside the cabin, his eyes adjusting to the dim interior.
There, in the corner of the room, lay a figure he recognized all too well - (Y/N). But the sight that met his eyes left him stunned and furious. She was no longer the human he had known. She had been turned into a vampire.
He approached her cautiously, anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior. "It's dangerous for you to stay here," he whispered, his voice tinged with disappointment.
Before he could say more, the door swung open, and Aro and Caius returned, their expressions unreadable. Marcus straightened, his anger now unhidden. "What's the meaning of this?" he demanded in a low, angry tone.
Aro stepped forward, attempting to placate the brewing tension. "Marcus, (Y/N) is an extraordinary vampire. When she was human, she had the gift of attraction. But now, as a vampire, her power has intensified. The more time you spend around her, the stronger the pull becomes. It's... almost obsessive."
Marcus was concerned and infuriated. Caius, his sire, spoke up defiantly, "She's mine now, Marcus. I won't give her up."
The fury that had been smoldering erupted within Marcus, and he seized Caius, pinning him against a nearby tree. "This is not right," he hissed.
Aro intervened, "Let's not fight, brothers. There must be a way to share her."
The tension hung thick in the air, as Marcus, Caius, and Aro stood in the moonlit forest, their futures entangled in the presence of the gifted (Y/N).
"What do you suggest, then?" Marcus demanded, his grip on Caius loosening slightly as he considered Aro's words.
Aro smiled in his usual charismatic manner, despite the tense situation. "As I mentioned earlier, we could share her. She would only be aware of our presence, and occasionally Demetri's, to maintain the illusion of her normal life."
Marcus frowned, recalling Aro's earlier warning about (Y/N)'s allure. "But you said the longer someone spends with her, the more they fall in love with her."
Caius, still pinned to the tree, chimed in, "That's why we can't let Demetri be with her all the time. As long as he's only a protector of sorts, the pull to be with her won't be as strong."
Marcus considered the proposition, his anger slowly giving way to a begrudging agreement. The prospect of sharing (Y/N) was far from ideal, but it seemed like the only way to keep her safe and maintain some semblance of control over their own desires.
Reluctantly, he released Caius, who straightened his clothing. "We shall share her," Marcus conceded, a mix of resentment and longing in his voice.
With that decision made, the three Volturi kings now had (Y/N) all to themselves, each harboring their own desires and secrets that could either lead to unity or turmoil within the ancient vampire coven.
#x reader#x reader one shot#x reader oneshot#twilight imagine#twilight imagines#twilight x reader#twilight masterlist#caius volturi imagine#caius x reader#caius volturi imagines#caius#caius volturi x reader#caius volturi#aro volturi x you#caius volturi x y/n#aro volturi#aro volturi imagines#aro volturi imagine#aro volturi x reader#aro volturi x y/n#marcus volturi#marcus volturi x y/n#marcus volturi x reader#marcus volturi imagine#marcus volturi imagines#marcus volturi x you#twilight scenario#twilight x y/n#twilight x you#volturi x reader
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Dermatillomania (Daryl Dixon x Reader)
Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of the fall of the Greene Farm in a way your therapist would not approve of.
Warnings: Typical TWD content! Dermatillomania (BFRB's, self-inflicted injury), mentions of death, etc.
Word Count: 719
Era: Follows directly after the season 2 finale
A/n: Just a personal vent... Dunno if anyone else relates.
It hadn't been easy to stop necessarily, but anything other than going cold turkey hadn't really been an option. When you absentmindedly find yourself starting to pick, a quick reminder that it could get you killed is all it takes to shut it down. Most of the time anyways... Tonight though? Oh, tonight you've fallen into old habits so fast and hard that you're stuck there in that state, in the worst session you've had since it all began.
You're tucked away in your own little corner of the ruins and firelight, shadowed enough that no one's really paying attention to what you're up to. At some point, your arms have come out of the sleeves of your coat and it's shrugged loosely around you, leaving skin exposed to the chilly air. You don't notice.
It's all catching up now, all replaying in your mind like the final straw has been plucked. That horrible night at the quarry, the panic when what had been a safe place was so quickly turned into a graveyard. Leaving Jim to die. The terror at the CDC of almost being murdered as a mercy. Leaving Jacqui to die. Sophia... Dale... The farm could've been a safe place, you'd truly believed it until they were somehow just - everywhere. Patricia, Jimmy, Shane... Leaving Andrea to die...
You can feel how it's all too much for your mind to handle, how it's trying to relieve the pressure in this way. It's no good, but your body doesn't know better and you don't know how to make it stop. You can't make any of it stop. Your fingernails desperately search raw skin for any bump, or blemish, or imperfection. They're everywhere. Maybe you'd feel ashamed if bigger and uglier emotions weren't cramming it out of the way.
The cold air cools drops of hot blood on your skin, you can feel it, and yet you feel separate from it simultaneously. Like the same way you breathe without thinking about the breathing part. The fire crackles low and leaves rustle out in the trees as the others hunker down. Nobody's really sleeping though. Not tonight.
Daryl's keeping watch on the perimeter when his eyes settle on you. Your fingers pause in their assault; you can't continue with an audience. Please just look away so I can keep going, some darkness in your mind pleads. But no, you scramble to pull the coat over yourself to conceal the evidence.
"What's this?" He asks, his voice low enough that the others won't really notice.
"Nothing. I'm fine." You can't meet his eyes, shame has finally pushed its way to the forefront now.
You don't try to stop him as he slides the coat off your shoulder, revealing your handiwork. Even in the darkness, you're sure the ugly redness has to be so obvious. You're not only weak, you're weak and stupid.
He pulls your backpack over and digs through it. "Your first aid kit in here?"
You nod once, but that only initiates the tears. What feeling are they from? Anger? Guilt? Fear? This was always the worst part, hating what you've done and wishing for nothing more than to go back and undo it. After everything that had happened... pathetic.
Daryl finds the antibacterial spray and gets to work. His care and surprising tenderness only make you feel that much worse. You were so incapable of handling yourself that you've got a full-grown man treating you like... like the broken thing that you are.
After that he takes a couple of bandages and wraps them around your upper arms, fingers steady and slow. "Leave 'em alone an' let 'em heal. You're tougher than that." He packs up the supplies, helps you fit your arms back into the sleeves, then waits. You're not sure what he expects from you, but then he mimes a zippering motion. You comply and close up your coat. With a single nod, he turns and returns to his watch of the dark surrounding forest.
Maybe you're just thoroughly messed up, but you trade the repeating images in your mind for his words. The past. You have to leave it alone. You have to let it heal. You're here, now, in the present. Alive. You would be tough enough to stay that way. You would.
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Windswept - Part 1
Windswept - Part 1
Fic Summary: Still getting over his breakup with Ruth, Tom notices a familiar face has returned to Cornwall. Lonely and unable to sleep, he shows up at your trailer late one night. But as eager as you are to have him in your bed, you’re not interested in only being his distraction. (Part 2) Fics Masterpost.
Fic Rating: 18+
Pairing: Tom Grant/Female Reader
Warnings: Language, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Established Friendship, Unrequited/Unresolved Feelings, Smut, Angst, Unprotected Sex, Oral (female and male receiving) Fluff
Fic Song: Windswept by Moonfall (It’s such a good sad song, highly recommend listening)
A/N: This one is for @delving-verilly. Hope you like it, hun! Also, I needed to give Tom some love because he is absolute boyfriend material and deserves all the good things.
Tom still doesn’t know the full story.
After what went down with Ruth, she never fully explained her actions or feelings. It was hard when she hung around. Seeing her every day and being completely ignored was like salt in the wound. It was like he never existed, like their long relationship never happened. Tom had to put up with it for several months until she and her…girlfriend moved without a word.
It got better when she left. However, it still wasn’t great. He still wasn’t great.
How could he be? The only girl he had ever been with, ever truly loved, betrayed him, and broke his heart. Cornwall is small, the staff filled with regulars. They all know about what happened and any new hires quickly learn about it. Tom can hear them whisper when they see him or see how they stop talking when he enters a room. For years he’d wanted Ruth to join him and once she did, she tainted it.
Tom keeps his head down, does his job, and goes through the motions.
Little by little the hurt lessens, and the anger dissipates. But it never goes away. Not fully. He can’t help but wonder if he could have said something, could have done something, to keep her. Was it him? Did being with him repulse her so much that she needed to run to someone else?
It's that thought that stops him from seeking any sort of physical comfort. There have been women since Ruth, vacationers who’ve shown interest or flirted. He never lets it go further because even though he’s sure it wasn’t his fault, he can never be one-hundred percent positive.
It’s late one night, on one of his bad nights, that these thoughts swim to the surface. The weather’s been cold, so there aren’t any of his usual outdoor activities available to keep his mind occupied. When it’s nice out, he’s able to distract himself with surfing or swimming. But when it’s like this, when he’s forced indoors, he's left alone with his racing thoughts.
Unable to sleep, he heaves himself out of bed and gets dressed. Jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and his gray hoodie are all he puts on to save him from the biting wind. He likes walking on nights like this, likes the chilly air on his face. It helps him feel.
The moon isn’t even out. The park is quiet, with most of the seasonal guests long gone. Only a few full-timers remain. Tom stays because…well, he doesn’t know why he stays, to be honest. What else is he going to do?
He does a full lap around the trailers, head bent against the wind, eyes trained on his shoes. He doesn’t need to look, knows the route by heart after having walked it so many times.
Except, tonight, there’s something different.
He sees a light in the distance. It creeps up on him, illuminating the ground bit by bit as he approaches. It takes a moment for him to register what’s going on. When he does, his head whips up and he stops in his tracks.
The light shines through the window of a trailer that was closed, at least, it had been the day before. He certainly hadn’t prepped it for anyone. There’s a chance someone else did but still, he would have heard about it.
Especially that trailer.
That one is yours. Had been yours. Tom hasn’t seen you in well over a year.
Before he can stop himself, he’s walking quicker, his hands balled into fists inside the pouch of his hoodie. His lungs are on fire from the cold but he doesn’t notice. Walking right up to the door, he raises his hand to knock. Then stops. In his excitement, he almost forgot that there’s a reason you left.
He used to see you every three or so months. You’re a writer and use the quiet of Cornwall to escape and work. It was always a treat, a highlight during his usually monotonous routine. You two would talk for hours, share a drink or a cuppa, and occasionally watch movies.
And you flirted. A lot.
Tom didn’t flirt back of course. He was with Ruth and devoted to her. Blinded by those feelings, he didn’t realize you were developing your own for him until the last time you visited.
You were respectful, never crossed that boundary, but you were honest. You told him how you felt, how you felt romantically towards him. You were also clear that you didn’t expect reciprocation, yet needed to get your feelings off your chest.
Tom played like he was surprised. Looking back on it now, deep down, he wasn’t, had always wondered if there was more to your flirtations. He held steadfast that he only regarded you as a friend, which you understood. It had been awkward, to say the least. After that, you withdrew. The hangouts and movie nights ceased. Eventually, you stopped coming around altogether.
Tom didn’t need an explanation. He could read between the lines. Of course, he had Ruth then so he didn’t dwell too much on it. However, you did cross his mind from time to time. He’d see your books in a shop or someone would visit who reminded him of you and he found himself missing your company.
And now, you’re back.
Tom realizes he has no idea what he’s going to say. What he wants to say. He also realizes it’s incredibly late and, after a moment of consideration, he lowers his hand and turns away. He doesn’t get more than two steps before the door opens.
Spinning back around, he finds you framed in the doorway. “Hi stranger,” you say with a soft smile.
Tom has to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Hiya.”
“What are you doing out in the cold at this time of night?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“So you came to greet little ol’ me?”
“Didn’t know you were back.”
There’s a beat of silence and then you gesture over your shoulder. “I’m making some tea. Come in and warm yourself, silly man.”
The ease of your stance and smile makes it feel like old times. Tom finds himself smiling as well. “Yeah, alright.”
You step away and he walks into the trailer. It’s warm, which means it was prepped for your arrival. That, or maybe Tom is colder than he realizes. He closes the door behind him, watching you move around your kitchen. You must have just arrived because your suitcases are in the living room. A grocery bag sits on the counter, still full.
You reach in and pull out the tea. “You don’t have to stand there, make yourself comfortable.”
Tom walks towards the living room, brushing past you in the process. There’s a brief moment where he can feel the heat from your body and it sends a shudder down his spine.
You shudder too but for a different reason. “Fucking hell, you’re freezing,” you say. “Blankets are in the second bag to the right.”
He sinks onto the couch, grabbing the suitcase and opening it to find your favorite collection of fuzzy blankets. He’d almost forgotten, though he doesn’t know how. Usually, he can find at least two in every room of the trailer. They’re soft and purely for comfort’s sake. He wraps one around himself, discreetly inhaling the scent of detergent and that unique smell that is you. Looking up, he watches you move around the kitchen, unpacking your shopping.
You look good.
It’s so strange to see you after all this time. There are so many of your features he’d started to forget. Or maybe he made himself forget because thinking about your absence hurt too much. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Tom admits as you pull two mugs out of the cabinet.
You quickly rinse them in the sink. “Didn’t know if I was ever going to come back here, to be honest,” you admit. There’s nothing left for you to do except wait for the kettle. You lean against the counter, your fingers drumming on the surface.
“Where’d you go?”
“Home. Some book tours here or there but mostly stayed put.” You’re studying him as much as he’s studying you.
He wishes he could hear what you’re thinking. Your expression is calm yet your body language is tense. Normally when you returned, you would be spouting off stories about your travels or asking him what he’s been up to. He’s not used to this quiet version of you.
“Why come back now?” he asks.
“My agent doesn’t like my new stuff. Says it’s missing my old flair. Sadly, she’s right. I always wrote better when I was here.”
Tom is surprised when his heart sinks. A part of him selfishly thought you’d returned for him. It’s a cruel thing to wish for, especially since he had made it clear that he only considered you a friend, that his relationship with Ruth was important.
Seems like a bad joke the universe played on him. Push away the girl who shared her feelings while holding onto the one who didn’t.
“Shirley didn’t tell me you were coming back,” he says, hands curled around the edges of the blanket to hold it closed. He’s warmed up some yet the chill persists. Though, he’s not sure the weather is the cause anymore.
“I asked her not to.”
“Why?”
“You know why. Do I have to say it?”
Tom is spared from answering when the kettle whistles. You turn your back, busying yourself with making the tea. He notices you pour his into the mug he always favored, preparing his cuppa exactly how he likes it. Even after all this time away, you remember.
When you’re done, you carry both cups over to the couch and hand him his. He takes it graciously, the heat instantly warming his freezing hands. You don’t sit next to him on the couch like you normally would. Instead, you choose the armchair, tucking your bare feet underneath you.
“I’m sorry about Ruth.”
Tom averts his gaze and stares at the floor. So you do know. “Who told you?”
“Shirley, about twenty minutes ago. We don’t have to talk about it. I just…I wanted to say something. I know you loved her.”
“Yeah, I did.” Tom takes a sip of tea, not even caring that it burns his tongue. He welcomes the flash of pain.
You two fall into silence, quietly sipping your tea as tension hangs in the air. He hates it. Being around you used to relax him and bring him comfort. Now, it’s like neither of you knows what to say or how to act with each other anymore. When Tom looks up at you, you’re staring out the dark window. He studies your face, even though he’s seen it hundreds of times before, admired it even. You were always full of energy and humor. He remembers the laughing fits you two would have after the other said something ridiculous. He remembers how your face used to light up.
Now it’s stoic and pensive. Did he do that too? Did his rejection take your laughter and brightness away? Was that his curse? To take a lively woman and turn her against himself?
No, he can’t think like that. Won’t think like that. Not about you.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going to come back,” you say, more to yourself than to him. “Up until two days ago, I almost canceled.”
Tom processes your words, running his thumb along the handle of the mug clutched tight in his hands. “Why did you decide to come?”
“I missed this place,” you admit. “I missed the ocean, the quiet nights. I missed…I missed a lot of things about it.” You trail off, sipping your tea.
“Me?” he asks with a small smile.
You smirk and glance over at him. “Mighty presumptuous of you,” you tease.
“We were friends.”
“We still are, Tom. I never stopped being your friend.”
“But you stopped coming around. Never called or texted either.”
“I wasn’t doing myself any favors. And you made it perfectly clear where we stood. I figured distance would be best, for my own sake.”
“And was it?”
You finally turn away from the window to give him your full attention. “No. It didn’t make a difference.”
Silence washes over you once more as you drink your tea. Tom has no words, isn’t sure what to say to that. Does that mean you still have feelings for him? If so, he’s not sure how he feels about them anymore. How he feels about you. Everything is so different now. All he thought and knew had been a lie and now he’s left hollow and empty, a shell of his former self. How can you love a shell? Does he even want you to care enough to try? When you finish, you get up and take both empty cups to the sink.
Tom needs to leave. He needs to be alone with his thoughts. Everything is a jumbled mess and he’s starting to get a headache. Reluctantly, he stands, letting the blanket fall to the couch. “It’s late, I should let you get some rest.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty exhausted. We can catch up tomorrow or later in the week.” You’re washing the mugs, eyes trained on what you’re doing.
When Tom goes to slip by you, he feels that heat again and it stops him in his tracks. Like a moth to a flame, he steps closer. Unable to help himself, he turns his body towards yours. His arm slides around your waist and he presses himself against your back in what starts as a hug.
You instantly freeze, hands pausing their work. A moment later, you melt, leaning back into his embrace. The tension leaves your shoulders and you hum with satisfaction. Tom kisses the top of your head, closing his eyes and savoring the closeness. It’s been long, so long since he’s touched someone, been touched. And now that it’s you, a whole smattering of feelings and thoughts come crawling to the surface.
You turn off the sink, absentmindedly drying your hands on the nearby dish towel. When you turn around to face him, Tom cups your cheek and kisses you.
It’s impulsive, not something he is planning or even thinking about until the moment your lips are within reach. Your gasp in surprise and he takes advantage, slips his tongue past yours to lick at the inside of your mouth. He thought he’d be clumsy and out of practice but he’s not. The more he kisses you, the better he feels, and the easier it is to lose himself in your lips. You wrap your arm around his neck, your body yielding to his touch as he traps you between himself and the counter.
Desire twists his gut and makes his stomach fall through the floor. It’s like kissing you hits a giant reset button and he’s bombarded with a slew of sensations he can’t identify or process. At least not right now, not when he has you in his arms and you’re so fucking warm, and soft, and responsive…
Tom breaks the kiss to catch his breath, opening his eyes to find yours already watching him. Your chest heaves as you pant, and it’s then that he realizes you’re not wearing a bra. He can see your nipples through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and it does things to him, makes him want to touch and grope. His cock is already straining in his jeans and he knows you can feel it press into your thigh.
You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with another kiss, harsher and rougher, this time both hands cradling your face. A moan escapes and the sound makes him feral, fuels the raging inferno inside that wants to consume. He kisses you harder and slides both arms around your waist so you can barely move.
“Tom,” you manage to whisper.
He says your name back, deepening the kiss, leaning the full weight of his body against yours so you can feel all of him, feel what you’re doing to him. His hands seek the hem of your shirt, gliding underneath, desperate to feel your skin under his palms. The brief touch alone is enough to send sparks through his veins.
There’s suddenly a hand on his chest and you push him back, breaking the kiss and all contact. You’re panting, your lips glistening from his kisses. He knows you want him, can see that your pupils are dilated. He can still hear your moan echoing in his mind. He wants you too, wants to lose himself in your arms and bed.
“Tom, what are you doing?”
That’s not what he’s prepared to hear and he blinks at you in confusion. “Thought it was obvious,” he says. “I’m kissing you.”
He tries to step forward but your hand is persistent, keeping him right where he is. “Don’t,” you say, your voice dropping low and your eyes pleading with him. “Don’t do this. Not right now.”
It’s like someone douses him with ice-cold water. Every feeling and racing thought stops dead in its tracks. “What’s wrong?” he asks, wrapping his hand around yours. “Do you not want this?” He felt you kiss him back, felt the way your body molded to his. He knows you enjoyed it. At least he thinks you enjoyed it. Those anxieties start to creep back.
“Not if it’s just to make you feel something. Not if it’s just a distraction.”
The air is sucked from his lungs and he just stands there, staring at you while he takes in your words. Is that what he’s doing? He didn’t think he was. He was just reacting to what his body wants. And right now, it wants you like he’s never wanted you before. Never wanted anyone before he dares to think.
Tom tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He says your name, gently holding the hand that’s pressed to his chest. Once again, he makes a move to step forward and once again you stop him.
“Go home,” you say in a gentle voice, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “We can talk more later.”
As if in a daze, Tom finds himself leaving your trailer. Once he’s in the cold, he lets out a shaking breath. Steps hurried, he heads to his own trailer, his mind replaying the kiss over and over again. He’s frozen by the time he gets home. Inside does not offer the same warmth you provided. He strips down and climbs into the shower, turning the hot water on full blast.
Tom sticks his head under the spray of the water, letting the heat soothe his tense shoulders and finally chase away the chill for good. Bloody hell, why did he kiss you like that? He didn’t even ask, he just did it without thinking of the consequences. Yet, you kissed him back. You may have stopped him from touching you but you absolutely responded to his mouth. He can still picture it, still feel what it was like to have your body along his.
His cock gives a persistent twitch, reminding him that he’s still very much aroused.
Without a second thought, he wraps his hand around himself and starts to jerk off. With one hand pressed against the shower wall, he closes his eyes and thinks of you. Of your mouth, your taste, your body pressed to his…all of the little details come flooding back and he bites his lip, desperately wishing it was your hand touching him. He pictures you there with him, naked and dripping wet from the shower, your mouth glued to his as you get him off.
Would you tease him? Would you keep him on the edge, backing off with that smirk of yours as he rolls his hips into your palm?
Other images come to mind, hazy memories throughout the years that he kept locked away. You, in your bathing suit, laying out on the hot sand with your notebook, your lips wrapped around the pencil as you lost yourself in your thought. The way that bathing suit hugged your frame, he couldn’t help staring as he ran by with his surfboard.
Or when the both of you were on his couch, trying to find something to watch. You’d gotten annoyed at him for flipping through the channels and had tried to steal the remote. He had laughed, and held it out of reach, secretly loving the way your solid frame leaned across his to try and grab it.
It’s like he’s flipped a switch and his brain won’t flip it off. Every smile, every brush of your hand, every hug, every lingering look…
He comes with a strangled moan and your name on his tongue.
That tension dissipates and leaves his body shaking and boneless. Tom slumps forward, letting his forehead rest against the tiled wall. The shower washes his cum away and he watches it go down the drain. He’s confused and ashamed. Is he this lonely that he’s reaching out to the first person he feels some kind of attraction to? Or has he always been attracted to you and is now able to act on it? What if it’s the first? He can’t do that to you, especially knowing how you feel about him.
Tom’s aware that he shouldn’t have kissed you. It’s not fair for him to use you this way. Even though that was the best kiss he’s ever fucking had.
Swearing at himself, he turns off the shower and gets out. He dries himself with a towel, then leaves it on the floor as he falls naked into bed, face-first in his pillow. “Right mess you’ve made of this, mate,” he tells himself.
It’s late and he’s tired. He needs sleep. Hopefully, he’ll feel better in the morning.
Yanking up the comforter, Tom bundles himself with it, wishing it was one of your blankets. For the first time in months, he has a dreamless sleep. When he wakes up the next morning, he’s in the same spot where he fell. Rubbing his eyes, he extracts himself from the warm cocoon of his comforter and reaches for his phone to check the time. Shite, he’s gonna be late.
Bolting out of bed, he throws on his uniform, brushes his teeth, and runs his hand through his hair in a vain attempt to control the curls. Having zero time to mess with it, he deems it good enough and hurries out the door.
Only to run smack dab into you. Instinctively, he reaches out to catch you, his hands coming to rest on your hips.
“Whoa, where’s the fire?” you ask.
Seeing you here in the light of day reminds him that the night before wasn’t a dream. You’re really here and somehow in his arms again. Your hands are pressed to his chest and it makes him suck in a deep breath.
“Sorry, running late,” he says, though makes no move to let you go.
“Then I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” He tells himself to let you go yet it’s so hard.
You break away first, clearing your throat as you put distance between you. “About last night…”
“I’m sorry, I can’t…I want to talk but I have to go.”
“Right, of course. You definitely just said you’re running late. Sorry. Don’t let me stand in the way.”
Tom shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you like he wants to. He turns and starts to walk away when he has a thought. He turns around to face you. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?” he asks before losing his nerve.
Your eyes light up and you try to hold back your smile but he can still see it. “Yes. I’d love that.”
“Great.” Tom smiles, walking backward. “Around five?”
“I’ll bring the dessert.”
He’s about a second away from telling you that you are the dessert, yet he’s already made things awkward he’s not going to screw up again. Instead, he gives you a wave and turns back around.
It’s like a weight lifts from his chest and he can’t help smiling to himself.
Aside from being a few minutes late, the rest of his day is fairly uneventful. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little distracted. His mind can’t help but wander, thoughts consumed by you and you alone. He swears he can feel your lips still touching his and he catches himself standing there, unmoving, his mind racing with those run-away thoughts. He ends up calling it a day nearly thirty minutes early because he’s far too out of it to be any useful.
When he gets back to his trailer, he looks around and realizes it’s a disaster. It’s been some time since anyone has been over. He’s suddenly glad he left early because it gives him time to straighten up. Hurrying around, he gathers the scattered laundry, shoving it into the hamper.
Any trash goes in the bin and dishes in the sink. While he boils water for the spaghetti, he washes as many of them as he can, cursing himself for inviting you over when the place is an absolute mess.
A moment later, he realizes that he’s still wearing his uniform and his hair is all over the place. No, that’s not going to do. He wants this to be a date, is already thinking of it as one, and he’s not going to have his first date with you looking like this. He runs to the bedroom, opening the closet and swearing when nothing is hanging. Bloody fucking hell.
There’s a knock on the trailer door and he runs back, only to find the pot of water is boiling over. “Shit, shit, shit!”
The door opens and you poke your head in. “Everything alright in here?”
“Yeah, just making a right mess of everything.” He tries to take the pot off the stove and burns himself in the process. “Ow! Fuck!”
“Oi, move.” You sweep past him, plucking the dishrag off the counter and using it to help you grab the pot’s handle. After moving it to another burner, you turn to face it. “How bad is it?”
Tom’s hand is red but otherwise alright. Still, he lets you gently take it, relishing the brief contact of your skin touching his. “I’m all over the place,” he says, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat. Having you so close is making him dizzy.
“That’s alright. We’ll get you all sorted out.” You bend your head and lay a gentle kiss on the burn before releasing his hand. “There, all better.”
Tom smiles, taking in how close you’re standing and thinking how much he wants to close that remaining distance. His eyes stray to your lips but then you’re turning away towards the stove.
“Why don’t I get this going while you change your shirt? You got water down your front.”
Tom looks down and sure enough, there’s a large wet stain from when he rushed to wash dishes. Mentally, he calls himself every name he can think of as he heads to the bedroom. “Right, be back in a second.”
He kicks the door closed and then yanks off his shirt, digging through his drawers for something, anything that’s wearable. Thankfully there is one white T-shirt left. Not the best for eating spaghetti but it’ll have to do. In the bathroom, he attempts to push his hair back and does a quick check to make sure he’s somewhat presentable.
When he steps back into the kitchen, you have the noodles boiling in one pot and are pouring tomato sauce in another to heat it.
Tom leans against the doorframe, hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you cook in his kitchen like you’ve done countless times before. This time it’s different. You’re both different.
You glance up and catch him staring. “What are you smiling about?”
“I’ve missed you.” Tom doesn’t think it’s too forward to say. After all, it’s the truth.
“I’ve missed you too.”
You teased him about it last night but it makes his smile wider when he hears you say it. He wanders over, noticing for the first time that you brought a dish covered with foil. “What’s that?” he asks.
“Blueberry pie. Had a scene that was giving me trouble so decided to make some dough to clear my head.”
“Ah, so you were procrastinating and used tonight as an excuse not to write.”
Hiding a smirk you glance over at him. “You don’t know me.”
He chuckles. “I know you very well, actually.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you know about me?”
“You’re smart, good for a laugh,” he lists, eyes taking you in. You’re dressed in jeans and a warm jumper, though you’ve already kicked your shoes off into a corner somewhere with your socks. “You like to make yourself comfortable whenever possible. When you concentrate you get that funny little crease between your eyebrows.” He reaches out to poke the wrinkle on your forehead. “What’s got you so lost in thought, hm?”
“You were always far too perceptive for your own good.”
“Except when it counted.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud yet once he does, he can’t take it back. Damn it, can he not go for a whole day without his brain betraying him, bringing up Ruth?
You stop stirring, turning your head to look at him. “You cannot possibly be blaming yourself for what happened.”
Tom busies himself to avoid your gaze and your question. He grabs several of the dishes he just washed and brings them over to the table. “Sorry, didn’t mean to say that. I can’t seem to say the right thing around you lately, can I?”
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here to listen.”
Tom opens his mouth to play it off, to tell you he’s fine. However, when he looks up and meets your eye, his resolve wavers, and that protective shell he’s been trying to build for months crumbles.
“She never told me what happened, why she did what she did,” he says, leaning on one of the kitchen chairs. “Guess I can’t help wondering if there was something I could have done differently.”
You step away from the stove and come up to him. “Look, I don’t have the whole story, only what Shirley could get out while giving me my keys. But from what I heard, it doesn’t sound like it was your fault.”
“We’ll never know, now will we?”
“Probably not,” you agree. “And that sucks. It really does. But it will get better, Tom. I’m sure it doesn’t feel like it, but it will.” So many people have told him that. Yet, he believes it coming from you. Always able to read him so well, you drop the conversation and return to the stove. “Spaghetti should be done soon.”
Tom finishes setting the table and gets you both a beer while you serve dinner. The quiet domesticity of it is not lost on him. He relishes it and enjoys every moment. When he sits down across from you, he can’t help smiling. He lifts his beer. Chuckling, you pick up your bottle as well.
“What are we toasting?” you ask.
“To old friends,” Tom says. “And new beginnings.”
“Is this a new beginning?”
“I’d like it to be.”
You study him for a moment and then tap your bottle to his. “A new beginning then.”
It’s the most enjoyable meal he’s had in a long time. You two spend the time catching up, swapping stories, and updates. You tell him everything you’ve been up to since you left, from the new books you wrote to the places you’ve seen. Tom smiles and laughs so much that his face hurts. He forgot that he likes this, likes being in your presence.
The trailer feels warmer and brighter with you here.
The next thing he knows, it’s hours later and you two are still at the table, spaghetti long since cleared and a half-eaten blueberry pie sitting between you, as well as empty mugs that once held tea.
Tom doesn’t even know what time it is, doesn’t care since tomorrow is his day off. Though, even if he did have to work, he still wouldn’t have cared. It's the first time in a long while that he’s allowed himself to let go. To feel and stay in the moment. And how fitting that it’s with you.
Then again, you’ve always had that effect on him.
“It’s late,” you say after glancing at your phone. “Damn, I didn’t realize how much I’ve been talking.”
“You also ate a fair bit,” he teases.
You flip him the bird. “Very funny.” Tom laughs and it makes your smile wider. “I’ve missed that sound.”
Just like that, the mood shifts. Tom’s hands become clammy and he fiddles with his mug. “About last night,” he says. He’s been avoiding the topic, not wanting to spoil the mood. However, it’s something that needs to be discussed. “I’m sorry.”
It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking. The way you purse your lips leads him to believe he’s struck a nerve. “It’s fine,” you say with a wave of your hand, eyes downcast. “I know you didn’t mean it.” You’re hurt yet playing it off.
Tom hurries to explain himself. “I never said that.”
Your eyes flicker up to meet his. “What?”
“I never said I didn’t mean it. I’m not sorry that I kissed you. I’m sorry for not asking you first.”
He sees your lips part as you inhale and the urge to reach across the table is strong. “Well, I did mean what I said,” you tell him. “I’m not willing to be a distraction or a stand-in for someone else.”
“You never have been and never will be.”
Tom’s thoughts are a jumble. It feels like they’re stumbling over each other, making it difficult for him to decide what he wants to say next. Tentatively, he reaches across the table and holds out his hand. You stare at it for a moment, before laying your palm on his. His long fingers curl around yours.
When he says your name, it’s loaded with emotion. “I had a lot of time to think about that kiss,” he says. “Well, kisses, technically. And do you want to know what happened when I did?”
You nod.
“I lost myself in the memory. When I left your place last night, I couldn’t think of anything else. Kissing you felt like coming home after a long journey.”
“Tom…”
“Wait, wait, just…just let me finish,” he pleads. When you don’t say anything, he keeps going. “I didn’t notice until you left how much you were a part of my life. I loved the time we spent together. Looking back now, I can see it’s because everything is so easy around you. This friendship and these feelings, they’re not messy and complicated. They’re clear and powerful, and nothing I’ve ever experienced with anyone else. No one. Just you.”
Your bottom lip disappears under your top teeth and it conjures all sorts of images in Tom’s mind.
“Maybe it comes too late,” he continues. “But, if what you said last night is true, if your feelings haven’t changed, could we, maybe, give this a go? See where it takes us?”
“Is that what you really want?” Your voice is hopeful, though your expression is oddly schooled like you are afraid to believe what he’s saying, afraid to wear your emotions on your sleeve as you’ve done in the past.
Tom nods. “Yeah, I do.”
You abruptly stand, pushing your chair back so it scrapes against the floor. Tom sits back as well but before he can stand, you’re taking his face in your hands and kissing the life out of him.
With a moan, Tom yanks you onto his lap. You straddle him and his arms slide around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Bloody fucking hell his memories from last night don’t do it justice. Especially when you’re the one taking the lead, the one slipping your tongue past his lips and moaning as his hands slide down to grab your arse.
He hardens instantly and there’s no hiding it, not when your core is right there, grinding down on his bulge. He wishes neither of you was wearing jeans yet is too focused on your mouth to do anything about it. At least at first.
You draw back to catch your breath, but Tom doesn’t let you get far. He cups the back of your neck, holding you close as he gives an experimental thrust upward. You gasp and he swallows the sound, mouth hungrily searching yours.
“Tom, wait.” You’re breathless when you lean back to look him in the eye. “Are you sure?”
Tom nods without hesitation. “Yes, yes, I’m sure.”
You smile and he briefly loses control, yanking you into a harsh kiss in his excitement. Everything feels good, so bloody good, but also right. This, being here with you, it feels like it’s supposed to be this way. He’s aware there’s still a lot to talk about. Yet, he’s not worried. He knows you two will get there. He’s not going to concern himself about it right now. He’s going to stay in the moment and focus all his attention on making you feel as good as he possibly can.
Evidently, you have your own plan in mind because you reach between you to undo the button of his jeans. Your kiss is broken when you slide onto the floor between his knees.
Tom swallows thickly, lifting his hips to help you drag down his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free, the tip red and already beaded with precum. Your tongue darts out to lick it away and he sucks in a breath at the visual. When your lips wrap around his swollen head, he lets out a smattering of curses. Automatically, his hand reaches for your head, as if to direct you but he stops himself at the last minute and lets it drop to his side.
You catch the movement out of the corner of your eye. Pulling off with a lewd pop, you grin up at him. “It’s alright, babe. You can put your hand on my head.”
Tom doesn’t need to be told twice, especially when you take him into your mouth like that and slowly inch your way down his pulsing shaft. His hands immediately come to rest on your head and he pushes you down while he gives a small thrust up.
He feels your throat constrict around his tip and it rips a moan out of him. You glide back up, coating him in your saliva before taking him in again, this time with his help. It only takes one or two more times for you to manage to take him all, and when you do, he holds you there for a second, savoring the way you swallow around him.
After that, you’re back in control, bobbing your head up and down on his lap, taking him as far as you can every single time.
Tom drags his eyes open, head thrown back from the Incredible pleasure. When he looks down at you, you’re already staring up at him and the visual knocks the breath from his lungs.
You pull off with a gasp, your hand wrapping around his cock and stroking him while you catch your breath. Your thumb swipes at the string of spit and precum connecting your wet bottom lip to the head of his cock before your tongue darts out to clean it away.
“Fuck!” Tom swears. “I’m not going to last long if you look up at me like that.”
Smirking, you continue to stroke him with your hand while your mouth starts to suck at his quivering thighs. He knows he’ll have marks in the morning and that only makes him groan louder.
“I’m sure I can draw this out for you,” you pant, letting your lips run up and down along his shaft before your tongue takes a bold lick. “If you want me to.”
Tom is torn. Part of him wants to grab your head again and thrust himself down your throat until you gag. The other part wants to tear your clothes off, to get you naked so he can touch and taste…
You don’t give him a chance to decide. As if reading his mind, you take him into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, sucking hard enough for him to see stars. His hips are constantly jerking now. His hands grip your head and he lets go, lets you take the reins because right now he’d probably die if you stopped.
Tom feels himself getting close, feels the way his balls draw up and the pleasure reaches its crescendo.
He comes in your mouth, lost in the way he coats your tongue and makes your movements slicker, stickier. You keep going, keeping sucking him down until he relaxes in the chair, panting like he’s just run a marathon. When you pull off, he opens his eyes in time to watch you swallow.
Head pillowed on his lap, face inches from his softening cock you smirk. “You doing alright there, love?”
He doesn’t answer, has no words at the moment. All he does is grin and reach for your arms, pulling you up as he stands. His legs are wobbly and you both stumble, bursting into a fit of giggles even as he kisses you. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself, he just wants to feel your mouth on his.
Stepping out of his jeans, tripping a little over his shoes, he pulls you towards the bedroom. You follow, your lips never leaving his until he bumps into the door.
“Careful!” you laugh. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’d have a fun time trying to explain that injury.”
You grab the hem of his shirt and help him pull it off. Now he’s completely naked while you’re fully dressed. That won’t do. He needs to see your body, to touch and taste as much of it as he can. He reaches for your jeans and you stop him.
For a brief moment, doubt creeps in and he has the mental image of someone else stopping him, someone else excusing herself right when they get started.
That goes away when you force him to sit on the bed, giving him a quick kiss before stepping back. You’re not leaving, you’re teasing, and that grabs his attention away from the painful memory. You grab the hem of your jumper and pull it off, showing him the lacy black bra underneath.
Tom nearly swallows his tongue. When you wiggle your jeans down your hips, he catches sight of matching knickers and realizes, you’ve thought of this. Even though you weren’t sure of his feelings or intentions, you still wore something sexy for him. Just in case.
He can’t keep his hands to himself. Pulling you forward, he drags you onto his lap again, mouth hungrily devouring yours. The need to touch and explore overrides everything else and Tom carefully turns the both of you until you’re lying on the bed, underneath him.
When he draws back, the loving look you give him is like a punch to the gut. No one’s ever looked at him the way you are now. You reach up to run your hands through his curls and he snags your wrist, placing feather-light kisses there, then along your arm, in the crook of your elbow, up to your shoulder, and then ultimately to your neck where he wraps his lips around a spot and sucks greedily.
Your gasp turns into a moan as his hand cups your breast. The black lace is scratchy against his palm so he tugs it down, needs to feel skin-on-skin while he feasts on your throat. Your back arches, bringing your breast right into his eager hand. He thumbs your nipple, tweaking and teasing it until it becomes stiff.
Tom leaves your neck, bending his head to take the now hard nub between his lips. He flicks his tongue over it once, twice, then swirls in slow circles. You moan, hands burying themselves in his hair, now unruly from your fingers. He tugs down the other bra cup, switching his mouth to that nipple while his hand continues to squeeze and knead the other.
When he draws back to look at you, your pupils are dilated and it takes him right back to those feelings that surfaced yesterday in your kitchen. Except for this time, he knows what they are and can’t wait to explore them.
You sit up just enough to unhook your bra and toss it aside. Tom lays gentle kisses from one breast to the other, giving them a final appreciative squeeze as he starts to descend your body. Tongue and lips leave a visible trail of kisses while his hands, so eager, run down to grip your thighs. He wants you to know where he’s headed, what he wants to do to you, to give you the chance to stop him.
You don’t. You urge him on. “Tom, please, touch me,” you say breathlessly, biting your lip as his tongue briefly teases your belly button.
“Can I taste you instead?”
You suck in a breath and he looks up at you, waiting for the nod of approval before hooking his fingers under your knickers. He draws back, pulling them down and eventually off, finally leaving you completely naked beneath him.
His imagination failed him. You’re gorgeous and nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart races when he finally sees all of you.
His hands slip under your knees so he can spread your legs open. You’re so wet and glistening for him and he hasn’t even properly touched you yet. The realization that he’s the one to do this to you, the one to make you aroused from only kissing and groping, does something to him.
All that self-doubt, all that worry, and concern about himself disappears. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t do anything wrong.
He slides down the bed, lifting your legs over his shoulders in the process. At the first swipe of his tongue, your body jerks in surprise, only to relax into the mattress. Your taste lacks comparison. The heady, unique flavor quickly becomes his favorite the more he laps at you. With his thumb, he gently rubs a circle around your nub, emboldened by the way you moan his name.
He loves the way it sounds coming from you. His name has never been sweeter.
Tom wraps his lips around that sensitive spot and sucks, having to take hold of your thighs to keep your hips from jerking off the bed. Your fingers pull on his curls when they tighten their grip and it lets him know he’s doing good, giving you what you like.
He loses himself, his lips and tongue in a constant state of movement, swiping, teasing, flicking, stroking, over and over again until sweat breaks out across your body. Your thighs trap his head but he’s too busy to notice.
When he slips his tongue inside you, he can feel your body clench and it makes his cock start to swell. Imagining what that will be like, he moans himself and notices that you gasp when he does. So, he does is a second and third, until he's humming and tasting, wringing an orgasm out of your shuddering, constantly moving body. Eventually, his mouth returns to your nub. He slides two fingers into you, moaning when your walls cling to them. Rubbing and crooking them just the right way causes swears to tumble from your lips.
Your voice calls out to him in warning but he doesn’t let up. It only urges him on, makes him suck, and rub hard until your body is convulsing underneath him. Seconds later, you go limp, your chest heaving.
Tom’s panting when he pushes your legs off his sweaty shoulders, sitting back on his heels to look down at you. You look more beautiful than ever. The post-orgasmic smile that graces your features makes his heart threaten to burst from his chest.
Wiping his mouth on the back of his hands, he crawls up over you. You reach up to pull him down, touching your two naked bodies together for the first time.
Tom moans, stealing another kiss. Your hands run up and down his back, leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your body shudders and he briefly notices the coolness of the room. Blindly, he feels around for the comforter and draws it up to cover you both. The action breaks the kiss and allows you to speak.
“Make love to me, Tom,” you beg, your forehead pressed to his.
He shifts and presses his cock to your core, lightly grinding so his length drags through your wetness. He’s now slick with you and the thought is too much to handle. Part of him wants to take things slow and savor, yet another part, a part he’s silenced for a long time, wants him to go for it, to take you and make you his.
Tom cups your cheek and draws his head back so you’re eye to eye when he pushes into you for the first time. He gets to see the way your eyes widen before fluttering closed and hears your sudden inhale of breath as you throw your head back into his pillow. And when he’s buried to the hilt, filling you completely, he says your name, whispers it like a prayer.
Despite his hormones urging for more, he takes you slowly. He’s not in any rush. Why would he be? Everything he wants is right in his arms. The world outside his trailer no longer exists.
You are his world.
Your legs wrap around his waist and you pull him in each time he draws out, making sure he buries himself with every thrust. Your mouths cannot break away from each other. Over time, the energy in the room shifts. Gentle, lazy kisses start to turn, become eager, biting, hungry.
Tom starts to move quicker, deepening his thrusts until he’s grinding into your pulsing heat. Good god, he can feel you clench so much better than he could with his tongue or fingers. It’s like you’re squeezing the life from him and he doesn’t care in the slightest. He wishes for it, wants your body to clench his cock so tight it leaves an imprint of himself inside you. He’s well aware that’s not how that works but it doesn’t stop him from wanting it. Your heels dig into his backside, spurring him on.
Tom’s mouth seeks your throat, kissing and sucking as the mattress groans along with you. He wishes this could last forever, that he could stay inside you until the end of time. His body is shaking from exhaustion, aching, and trembling after being disused for so long. But he can’t stop, won’t stop until he makes sure you cum. He did it once, he can do it again. Needs to do it. Needs to feel it around his aching cock.
Needs one more reminder that he’s the reason you’re coming undone.
His hand pushes down under the blanket, gliding along the swell of your hip, then slipping between your grinding bodies. His thumb finds your oversensitive nub and you cry out at the first swipe.
“Tom! Tom, I’m close, so close. Please, more. Give me more!”
His thrusts aren’t gentle anymore, haven’t been ever since he started climbing his own peak. A few more sloppy rubs and you’re cresting that hill for a second time, your tight cunt clamping down on him and sending him toppling over the edge as he comes inside you.
Even then, he keeps going, his mouth seeking yours as he fucks himself through his release. This is nirvana, this is his happy place. He knows he’s done for. All those crystal clear feelings couldn’t be more front and center than they are now. He loves you. Most likely, part of him has always loved you yet he was blind to it. Until now.
He makes a silent vow that he won’t be blind to you ever again.
You both collapse in a sweaty, panting heap.
Your hand hasn’t stopped stroking his back and as he comes back to himself, he finds your other hand running through his curls. His cheek is pressed just above your breast, hot breath ghosting across your skin.
“That was…” When you trail off, he pushes his head up to look at you. “Tom, that was…” His smile falters as that sliver of fear comes back for just a second. “Fuck, I’ve never been made love to like that before.”
And just like that, the fear goes away. “Yeah?” Tom asks, a smile spreading across his face.
You nod, cupping his face so you can drag him into a kiss. “Yes. You blew my fucking mind.”
Tom deepens the kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek. He feels himself slip out of you and his heart slams against his ribcage when you whimper at the loss. He rolls onto his side, bringing you with him so you’re face to face, limbs tangled together.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Bloody hell, the way you make me feel.”
You kiss him once, twice, then a third before finally laying your head on the pillow. “Now you know how I’ve been feeling all this time.”
If this is what you’ve been feeling, he could kick himself for waiting as long as he had.
“What happens now?” he asks, afraid of the answer yet needing it all the same.
You trail your fingers up and down his arm, making him shudder. “Now, we sleep. And tomorrow, we’ll wake up, have breakfast, have sex again, then I’ll get some writing done and you lay here naked, distracting me from said writing.”
Tom grins, biting his lip in excitement. “I think I can do that,” he says, pulling you close. “What about after tomorrow?”
“Whatever we want, Tom. The world is ours for the taking.”
“Think I might like to travel some.”
“Well, if I finish this book, there’ll be a tour. I’d love for you to join me.”
“What’s the book about?”
“A woman goes on holiday and meets a handsome handyman who is as beautiful inside as he is out. He’s kind, funny, smart, carrying…everything she could ever want and she falls in love fast. He doesn’t right away but, eventually, he comes around.”
Tom’s heart flutters and his nose brushes yours as he nuzzles your face. “How does it end?”
“I don’t know yet. Maybe you can help me figure it out.”
“I think the man falls in love with the woman. Or at the very least, he realizes part of him always loved her. Then I think he asks her to show him the world. Maybe they marry and have a couple of kids. Though that might be too cheesy.”
“I think it’s perfect. He’s allowed his happily ever after just as she is.”
Tom smiles at you and leans in for another kiss. “As long as they’re together, he couldn’t be happier.”
#tom grant#tom make up#joseph quinn#joe quinn#joe quinn make up#joseph quinn make up#tom grant x reader#tom grant x you#tom grant x female reader
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Daryl helping the reader fall asleep or helping when she’s injured if ur up for that? thank u!! 💗
eeeee this was a fun one to write, thank you for such a sweet request! i imagine this to be set somewhere between season 2 and 3? like when they were on the road?
Pairing: Daryl Dixon / fem!reader
Warnings: none unless we count Daryl being a lil cutie
Word Count: 739
It had been a difficult couple of weeks. With no food, limited water and morale at an all time low, it was safe to say that the group was struggling.
There was only one thing keeping you going: the man hovering in your general vicinity, always keeping you in his line of sight, always with one hand resting on his crossbow.
“Come on, girl,” he huffed, his shoulder brushing yours as he matched your stride.
It had been a long, stressful day with absolutely zero chances to even think about taking a break, but Daryl’s gentle nature (with you, at least) made you feel as though you’d been walking for no time at all. He nudged you again, nodding his head towards what you could only describe as safety. There were actual buildings, with actual windows and actual doors.
The sun had long since set, yet you had only just managed to find somewhere to spend the night - a small, secure house on the very edge of what was a formerly-quaint town with, thankfully, no walkers lurking in the shadows.
You sighed in relief as your backpack fell to the floor, sliding your back down the wall until you reached the floor. Looking up, you saw the hint of a smirk on Daryl’s face as he tossed his bags onto the hardwood beside yours.
The group had dispersed into separate parts of the house, presumably raiding any and all cupboards, leaving you and Daryl alone to settle into the living room. Daryl wasted no time, finally loosening his grip on his crossbow and placing it on the ground. He quickly began to rummage through the piles of miscellaneous things of the past in the middle of the room.
“What ‘you looking for?” you hum.
“Nothin’ in particular,” he said, not looking up at you as he continued his search.
“Alrighty, then,” you laughed, shimmying yourself across the floor and closer to your bags.
You had wrestled a couple of your blankets out of your backpack when you heard a satisfied ‘huh’ from across the room. Glancing upwards, you see his fingers wrapped around a palm sized silver box.
His footsteps were silent as he walked back towards you, scooting himself into the gap between you and your backpack. Holding his hand out for you to see, you finally recognise the mystery item that he had plucked from the ground.
“Vintage,” you chuckled, giving him a smirk as you gently took the Walkman from his hand.
“Merle stole one of these from some chick at a bar,” he smiled, shaking his head. “I was so fuckin’ jealous.”
You smiled as you unwrapped the shitty, plastic earphones from around the device. Prying it open, you finally got to see what you’d be listening to until the walkman inevitably breaks.
“Phil Collins? Come on, man,” Daryl sighed, kicking his foot against the ground.
“What were you hoping for?” you teased. “A little bit of Kylie Minogue?”
“Kill me now,” he sighed again, shaking his head.
You hold out one of the earphones, leaving him with no choice but to tuck it into his ear.
“I hate you,” he whispered, still slowly shaking his head.
“You love Phil Collins, don’t lie,” you chuckled, raising your eyebrows at him. “Besides, this is a fantastic album,” you said, finally getting the tape player to function. “Face Value, baby.”
Daryl could only smile in response as the sounds of In The Air Tonight filled his ears. You began to settle against the wall as you put your earphone in your ear. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence throughout the song’s entirety, although the air between you started to change as Daryl listened intently to Phil’s words in This Must Be Love.
“I remember you sayin’ listenin’ to music helps you sleep. ‘Figured a house full of junk must have something useful to ‘ya.”
You couldn’t fight the blush that had quickly rushed to your cheeks, and evidently you couldn’t hide it either as you heard a soft exhale of breath escape Daryl’s lips.
“You’re too sweet, Daryl,” you smiled, pulling one of your blankets over his legs.
You moved to rest your head on his shoulder, his arm worming its way between your back and the wall for his hand to settle on your side. You felt your eyes begin to shut, slowly, as you lean further into Daryl’s side.
“Only for you.”
i hope you enjoyed this! if so, please comment/reblog, i'd appreciate it a lot <33
#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon/reader#daryl dixon fluff#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#twd daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#fic requests#send requests#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#knucklescum#daryl dixon#daryl dixon request#daryl/reader#daryl dixon requests#daryl twd#twd
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