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zwhoreo · 6 months

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Why be sad when you can be horny instead? Luffy cheering you up by eating you out #TeamSmut

I’M POSTING AGAIN!! now with my THIRD story about luffy eating you out on the deck of the ship

cheering you up - luffy x f!reader

smut

summary: while you’re lethargic and sad from being on sea for so long, luffy offers oral sex to cheer you up one night

contains: oral (f receiving)

words: 1.9k

_______________________________

You’re sad, not by any particular event but just by the way monotony permeates. The sea is large. It takes a long time to sail between islands, exciting adventures that take a few days are framed by weeks and weeks at sea with nothing other than your friends, your boyfriend, yourself. That last part doesn’t sound so bad, right? Your friends, your boyfriend.

Luffy rests his chin on your shoulder and begs for attention. He’s sprawled all limp and tangled and he’s been whining for the last hour about how bored he is, how much he wants to go exploring and do something fun and even this fancy ship gets boring after awhile, he doesn’t want to look at the fish or play on the deck anymore. You love him but he’s just been so bratty recently, uninterested in anything. You aren’t sure how to entertain him and he just always, always wants to be with you and it’s getting exhausting, you’re so, so tired. So you rest in bed and pet his hair as he complains about wanting to go on adventure and be somewhere else.

Everyone else is irritable and tired, especially because of how hot it’s been recently and nobody likes to rot in the sun in the middle of the ocean. You know what happens with your best friends, where you see them so much that there isn’t much new to talk about? So you’re mostly quiet when you’re sketching with Nami, or reading with Robin, or fishing with Usopp. Or napping with Luffy.

It’s late in the evening but you’re taking a nap anyways, you’re feeling sort of depressed and lethargic and it’s all catching up to you at around 6 PM. You ask for Luffy to come cuddle you even though this is his time to beg Sanji for more food after dinner, the only time of the day he’s really been at his full energy. But he won’t turn you down so he squeezes your hand and pulls you into bed with him.

You lay down. You get under the blankets and take Luffy and tuck him against your chest like a stuffed animal. You can move him around however you want, he won’t mind. He huffs contentedly and quickly goes to sleep with his head between your breasts, clutching you around the waist, snoring loudly.

And even though your eyes hurt and your body’s sore and all you want is to let the rest of the evening slip by in dreams you can’t somehow. You just stay awake with this sweaty boy in your arms, squeezed too tight, and he isn’t a quiet sleeper even when you try to still him so he just squirms and murmurs against you and there’s nothing you can do.

You turn your attention to caring for him, just trying for some sort of comfort. You kiss his greasy hair and whisper little compliments, you massage his back, he loves your touch so much, smiling against you in his dreams. This makes you happy but you still feel sick in your heart, uncomfortable and tired and lonely. The room suddenly feels too hot, oppressive, you need to leave and go get some fresh air.

So, because you don’t want to wake him, you eventually ease a pillow into Luffy’s arms in the absence of your embrace. You slip out of bed, you need fresh air.

There’s a spot you’ve found, a support platform halfway up the tallest mast. You go here when you want to be alone. You’re rocked and the world tilts as the waves crash beneath you, climbing higher, higher. Your feet are bare against the rope ladder, thick knots digging into the soles of your feet. But now on this platform you can breathe. You can see every single star and galaxy from here, black purple blue, a glimmering ballroom of constellations that mirror the wine-dark sea. You are the world’s meridian.

Your body turns off, mind drifting away because you’ve always loved outer space. If you were floating a million light years away then everything would just disappear which sounds nice right now. You close your eyes. You are the universe.

But your body is shaken by the sudden rocking of the mast, you have to scurry to keep from falling as the wood creaks. The loud snap of elastic, a body slams next to you with a clumsy bounce and there he sits, legs spread, looking at you with huge, curious eyes.

“Hey Luffy,” you move close to him. You don’t want to be in the stars if you can’t take him with you.

“Whatcha doin’?” He's quiet, wistful. He looks a little hurt to have been left alone, he doesn’t understand.

“Just needed some air. It’s ok, you can stay,” you say even though he would’ve stayed anyway.

He takes your hand, tracing your fingers, off in his own little world. You feel sad and lonely again. This is your boyfriend, why can’t you talk to him? Tell him how you feel. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t understand, really, he’ll just be there for you. But don’t make him worry, don’t make him upset. But no, tell him, you have to talk to him or you’ll cry right now. Right now.

“I’ve been sad,” you whisper to the ocean below.

“Hm?” Luffy’s arms wrap around you slowly. He presses his cheek to yours, searching your face, so confused. “How come?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain. Sometimes I just get kinda depressed being on this ship for so long between islands, you know? Especially when everyone else is bored and tired, and when the weather’s bad. And we’re low on food, I’m sick of fish. I’m just getting frustrated all the time and I hate it.” Once you start to let it out you can’t stop. You wipe your face with your hands, sniffing.

He listens, not speaking, not moving except for those hands rubbing yours. And when you’re done he puts his chin on your shoulder. “Yeah, me too. I get what ya mean.” But soon his face is against yours again, so tender now. “Can I help make you feel better, though?”

You smile. You’re so glad you told him, he’s so sweet and good to you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Hey, this’ll make ya happier! Nami told me we’re close to an island, the tide’s changing or somethin’!”

“Really? How long?” He’s right, you do feel happier.

“Mm, I dunno that part.” His chin’s back on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I shoulda asked.”

“That’s ok.” You sigh, but you’re still smiling. “It’s enough to know we’re close.”

“Yeah, but you’re still not feelin’ well. An island in the future is no good if you’re feeling bad tonight, huh?”

“My body hurts… I’ve been sitting and resting too much, I think.” It’s true, your legs are sore and heavy. Bones have turned to stone in their hibernation.

“Yeah? Let’s take care of that.” His hands go to you, rubbing your thighs beneath the silk of your night dress, your waist, your shoulders. “Mm, hey, you wanna play? Would that make you happier and make yer body not hurt so much?” He’s murmuring into your ear, smiling with his teeth.

“What kinda play?”

“Sex? You wanna have sex? It’s been awhile.” Luffy licks his lips, mind racing. “I could… eat ya? Y’know, that thing we do sometimes? Where I-”

“Please,” you say so quickly. Maybe this is therapy you crave. Release all this time before you start anew, release it for him to devour.

He laughs loudly, sitting back against the mast. “Heh, ok, lie down and lemme hold you. I got you, love.” His eyes twinkle.

You face him, you get on your back on the wood, head turned away toward the endless stretch of night and sea. And Luffy wraps his arms around your thighs, propping your legs up, spread for him, you feel him nuzzle your thigh and huff against you as he returns to this scent he loves.

You both breathe as one in a long, deep rhythm as his nose presses against you there, right there. Soft moist warmth for Luffy, damp lacy fabric perfect to chew and taste. Teeth gnaw on you through your panties, dull but hungry. You pulse there with every swallow against nothing, nerves lighting you up down to your toes.

“You’re teasing me…” you whine, reminding him of where he is.

“Heh, sorry.” But he’s lost in you, he’s not in any hurry. Until, of course, his tongue catches the arousal that drips out of you and that’s where he needs to go, he decides.

So he casually rips away your panties and smiles at what’s his. You’re at the center of his world and this is how he’ll feast on the meridian.

He quickly bites your clit, not hard but enough to make your whole body twitch. He’s so good at doing what you’ve taught him. And god he does look stunning from here, he pushes his hat back and shiny, jet-black hair tickles your inner thighs. You run your hand through it and tug, curling your body up to stroke his cheek and now you’ve got his attention, you just wanted to see those big, chocolate eyes.

It’s with care that he dips his tongue lower, slowly lapping at you as you get wetter for him, he’s getting loud now as he usually does and the vibrations from his moaning makes you tremble in his arms. And when you tremble, he squeezes you tighter. Warm arms, so different from the sky.

Closer, closer, it’s almost painful it’s so deep and perfect. Your hips move on instinct, riding his tongue, pulling you into this vortex, deep and deeper it comes in waves. The ship rocks and you sway together.

He buzzes against you with a shiver and a sound of joy when your orgasm hits deep. You moan and reach for him immediately and he looks up at you, mouth soaked, he asks, “ya done? Feel better?” smile unbroken.

“Mhm, a lot better.” And he’s in your arms now. You cuddle on that little wooden platform beneath the moon. The heartache and soreness and exhaustion is all new and perfect now. So much better.

“Hey thanks for cheering me up. You felt so good, Lu.” Your voice is a quiet whisper on the wind as you stroke his hair, his muscles twitch around you with the remnants of that powerful joy.

“Heh, tasted good. Glad you’re ok. This mean you’ll come back and sleep with me now?” He’s tilting his head like a little puppy, your scent warm on his breath.

“Yeah. But I wanna watch the stars for a little longer.” You lay against him. You’re sitting, now, interlocked and inseparable. You drip down there from him, so warm against the wood, nerves still on fire. And those stars up there are all suns, you know. They’re all on fire too. You’re amazed at how alight the night is. And this wind from the east, I guess this is what it means to be close to land. Those clouds, maybe that’s what they mean too, shot with colors from no direction, full and aimless.

Luffy is content with you. He’s ok with you watching the sky. All he says is, “that’s alright. Long as I can stay here and hold ya.”

#luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #one piece smut #luffy x reader smut #luffy smut #luffy x f!reader

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leclerc-hs · 6 months

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after hours - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader Summary: based upon ‘After Hours’ by the Weeknd….kinda? Warnings: angst? bad writing lmao, some smut Word Count: 1,955 Author's Note: Feel free to send in requests. I know I'm not the best writer but I have fun doing it anyways lmao kk love u all!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

IT WASN'T ALWAYS like this. This mess of a situation that had caused utter chaos and pain that now lays awake inside the both of you. You used to be happy.

“Without you I can’t sleep,”

In the midst of a restless night, you couldn’t help but toss and turn. You were thrashing around and the sheets were at complete disarray from your constant kicking and rolling around. The oppressive summer heat was merciless as it couldn’t help but creep in through your windows and into your apartment. You had stripped down into a mere spaghetti strapped tank top with the most diminutive semblance piece of underwear. One would question the classification of such a minuscule garment. Sleep, in these circumstances, appeared to be pointless.

You spent, what felt like hours, relentlessly scrolling on your phone in hopes you would eventually grow tiresome. And it was working at first. That is, until you saw the Instagram story of him. Him at the club with friends. While you lie here completely alone and restless.

The initial reaction to seeing this story was to roll your eyes. By the time 5 minutes had passed and you were still staring at it, you couldn’t help but feel sick to your stomach. It just doesn’t make sense. How is it that he can be out partying while you’re in bed incapable of sleep. Did he not care? Did he ever even love you?

You began to laugh at yourself. Of course, he didn’t love you. If he loved you, he wouldn’t have kissed another girl. He would’ve fought for you more.

“Girl, I felt so alone inside of this crowded room,”

The swarm of heat surrounded him. But not from the humid summer air like you. No, his form of insufferable heat was from the crowd of drunken bodies that filled the club. His friends had dragged him out. Told him he needed to ‘stop moping around’. Told him that he ‘needs time with his boys’ to cheer up.

The irony of this all weighed heavily upon him. A relentless reminder of the gaping void you have left behind. It was as if you had woven yourself into the very fabric of his consciousness. A presence that refused to be ignored.

It had only been a few weeks since he saw you last. But still, you would never leave his mind.

But who is he to complain? Who is he to even care about how he feels when its him who had destroyed one of the only good things in his life. It was all a mistake. One he would absolutely take back and delete its existence if he had that kind of power.

“I know I made you fall,”

“I just don’t understand how you could do this to me,” Your voice trembled with each shout of a word that you let out. The very walls that surrounded you felt as if they were caving in. It was unbearable. The act of betrayal was too blatant to ignore.

Your boyfriend in tabloids kissing another woman. Kissing another woman. Kissing another woman. Publicly.

The words repeated in your head like a broken record.

“Mon amour,” he started. You cut him off almost instantly. You could not be silenced.

It was too quick. So quick, you couldn’t even process the rage that was igniting within you. One second, you held his phone in your hand. The next second, it was shattered all over the floor beside him. Smashed from impact of hitting the wall. A mirror of what your trust for him looked like.

“Don’t call me that,” you seethed. You ached. “I’m not your anything.”

His mouth opened ready to fight back. Ready to do anything for your forgiveness. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t handle it. He needed you.

“Not anymore,” you continued before grabbing your purse. “Don’t contact me. I can’t look at you.” You couldn’t even cry. Your eyes were red, puffy, and completely dry. Your body couldn’t even handle making more tears.

The worst part about this entire fight? Did you really want no contact, or did you just yearn for him to fight for you? The question loomed over you.

Honestly, it’s a fine line. Deciding if the no contact really is the best option or if all you wanted was for him to show more effort for you. To try harder. Would you forgive him? Would you move on?

“It was simply a blessing waking beside you,”

He couldn’t help but reminisce on all the mornings you spent together. Even at the club. He was shameless.

The morning sun slowly began peeking through the cream-colored curtains of your bedroom. It was one of your favorite times. The time where you’re on the cusp of being lucid but not completely there yet. This time full of raw love and passion.

His fingers slowly trailed up your ribcage and to your nipples before giving them a slight pinch. Goosebumps arose wherever his fingers trailed.

“Mon amour,” his hips started rolling slowly into you. Your nipple still pinched in between the rolling of his two fingers. “Give it to me” he said.

You were a moaning mess. “Please,” you were begging. Begging to reach that peak you oh so needed.

“Tell me what you need,” The pace of his hips increased. The sound of skin to skin slapping mixed with the sounds of both of your moans filled the room and only pushed you towards the edge more.

“Is it me, amour?” He started. “You always take me so well. So, fucking tight mon amour,” Charles was relentless now. His hips picked up pace urgently. He was feverishly reaching for that peak as well. He fucked himself into you so hard it was as if he was trying to burn the memory of you here with him for forever.

“What a fucking salope,” He edged you further. “My fucking salope.”

“Come on, mon amour. Make a fucking mess of me,” It was right then. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. Your own thighs squeezed tighter together as you pulsed around him. His orgasm following soon after.

Charles breathed heavily behind you and placed gentle kisses along the backside of your shoulder blade.

“You did so well, mon amour,” He pecked more kisses. “I never want to wake up without you.”

“Sorry that I broke your heart,”

It was well late into the night. In the dimly lit room, you found yourself wrapped in an emotional embrace. Hard knocks were heard on the front door of your apartment causing you to jump up in surprise.

“Mon amour,” you heard him speak first on the other side of the door. You immediately stopped in your tracks. Your throat felt constricted. Those two words burned in your memory. It was as if mon amour had become your name. You couldn’t even remember the last time Charles used your real name.

The tumultuous mixture of anger, betrayal, and love clawed at you. Making it difficult to discern your true feelings.

You hesitated. Whether you should open the door or not. His knocking became insistent. Loud. Each moment that passed his fist against the door went harder.

Out of respect for your neighbors, you let him in. At least that’s what you told yourself to feel better.

Charles was leaned against the door frame for support. He looked tired. A look of anger was in his eyes. He wasn’t in the right state of mind. He knew he had no right to be mad at you. But he was. He was being completely irrational as he marched his way over here.

“You are going to sit. You are going to listen to me,” He demanded as he pushed into your apartment. He gripped your wrist as he pulled you into the apartment and to the couch. You accept it anyways. Not because he deserved it, but because you need closure.

“The picture looks wrong,” he began. “I just need to explain this to you. Even if it doesn’t change anything.” He kneeled before you, in between your legs as he explained himself. His green eyes, a tad darker with a reddish tint lined around them, were staring solely into yours.

With a slight nod of your head, you let him continue.

“It’s all wrong. It’s not an excuse, but I did not kiss her back.” His words were sharp. As if he wanted to burn those words into your brain.

“Pictures say otherwise, Cha,” you felt like you were going to throw up. This conversation burned tears into your eyes, but you did your best to hold them back.

“She was a fan. She came up to me and grabbed me,” his hands slipped onto your knees and squeezed them tightly. “She grabbed me and kissed me.” His voice was cracking slightly as he let his head drop and rest on your legs.

You knew this information wouldn’t change much. It was still a kiss. One that shouldn’t have happened.

“Whether she kissed you or you kissed her. It doesn’t change. Don’t you see?” You moved your knee so he would lift his head up. “It’s not going to change anything.” You said. You weren't even positive if it wouldn't change anything. But it was all that could come to mind. “It shouldn’t have even happened.”

“Mon,”

You cut him off by standing up. “Would you stop calling me that!” You were shouting now. Walking from the confines of his presence. It was too much. He was too close. You couldn’t think properly.

“I can’t,” He arose from his knees and stood beside the coffee table. “I will do anything.” It was then. His voice finally cracked, and you could sense that tears have started falling from his eyes. He didn’t even bother to wipe them as he sat down on the couch. Exactly where you were last seated.

In a moment that could only be described as naïve or perhaps even foolish, the depth of your love for him exceeded all rationality. You couldn’t even stand to see him crying, even if he was the one who ignited these issues into your relationship. You still wanted to comfort him regardless. He didn’t deserve it and you knew that. But in this moment, you couldn’t even care if it made you weak. Because you wanted to feel his embrace too.

You trailed back across the room to sit beside him to wrap your arms around him. The two of you entangled on the couch seeking some form of comfort. He didn’t deserve it – the comfort. Most importantly, didn’t deserve you.

“I need you to leave,” you began. His arms wrapped tighter around you. He didn’t want to let go. It was as if his grip onto you as if he was physically holding onto what remained of your tattering connection. “Please.” You were begging as your head rested in the crook of his neck.

You only felt him shake more. Undoubtedly, crying. But he understood.

“I just need space,” your voice was a fragile whisper. “I still love you. I miss you. I wish this never happened to us.” His lips pressed to any inch of skin that was within proximity. You felt his hot tears slip onto your skin with each kiss he pressed.

The plea for space, while still expressing love and longing, demonstrates the need for personal boundaries and self-care.

“I will keep fighting for you,” He pulled away before standing up from the couch. “I will do anything. I promise you that. You are the love of my life.”

It wasn’t until then, that you felt your tears spill out of your eyes. With a small nod of your head, he walked out of the apartment with his heart still latched onto you. Yours with his. It was a tapestry of emotions left in wake.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic

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nkogneatho · 2 months

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ALSO HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY!!! on this day, i want you to remember something:

Feminism is not about becoming a "man". It is about having the same rights as them. It's about having an opinion about your issues and not be oppressed by men.

Feminism is not a trend, it is a fight for justice and rights that has been going on for centuries.

"What about the men? What about their issues?" Men are allowed to have issues. However, men need to realize that you already enjoy so many privileges. You're the one who set this system up for yourself. Why are you complaining then? Why do you want to be oppressed so bad?

You are not superior when you claim "Oh, i am not like those feminists. I am not like other girls." The fact that you are putting your gender down like that is shameful.

You being transphobic to transwomen doesn't make you cool or "I don't want to support this new bullshit trend." It is not a trend. Transwomen have existed as long as humans. There is very little representation in history is due to transphobia and people straight up denying trans existence. In some Asian countries including mine, Transwomen are considered form of goddesses and their blessings are very powerful.

A housewife is just as much valid as a full-time working woman . A woman working on a farm is as much valid as a woman working in a big corporate.

A woman who wants child is as much valid as a woman who wants none. A woman who wants a perfect marriage is as much valid as a woman who would like to spend her life alone.

once again, happy women's day <33

#pasi.txt #happy women's history month #happy women’s day #women's day #feminism

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solemnarration · 2 years

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the girl with the books | r.l

pairings: remus lupin x reader (she/her pronouns) genre(s): marauder era, strangers to lovers, fluff, humour summary: james and sirius notice that it’s not the books that keep remus in the library, and are determined to know whether you – the object of remus’s affection – return his feelings. word count: 3.0k warning(s): none note: this is a 2022 update of the fic of the same name that i wrote back in 2016! my writing has improved by leaps and bounds and i couldn’t help but edit and improve the fic that a few of you seemed to really love :) i hope you enjoy it if you liked the original, or that you find something new to read

The Hogwarts library was the place where you found the most solace. Even on the few days that the Scottish countryside provided undisturbed sunshine, like today, you preferred to curl up with a book on one of the grand wooden tables. You enjoyed your time in the library; reading fiction or researching different topics that you were curious about. While your friends encouraged you to enjoy the warm day with them, you easily waved them off in favour of the dimly lit library.

Remus Lupin could be found in the library as often as you, except it wasn’t the books that kept him coming back. The sight of you sitting in a corner reading by yourself was enough to draw his attention every few minutes. He couldn’t even help himself, his eyes had no choice in the way they continually found your figure, but he was in no place to complain.

Remus sat with his three best friends at the other end of the library, and they were less than happy to be spending the first sunny day of spring in the library rather than bothering the giant squid in the black lake. Now that the weather was no longer freezing, Sirius and James were desperate to cause some mischief, and Peter was happy to comply.

“What is it that you find so fascinating about a hall full of books?” Sirius inquired, lifting a book up from the table, grimacing at the idea of spending his free time reading, and carelessly dropping it back onto the table.

Remus flinched as the sound resonated throughout the library, capturing your attention as you gave the four friends an inquisitive look. For a moment, Remus held his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from you as you gave him a speck of casual attention. Realising it was just James Potter and his friends messing around, you happily returned to your reading without a second thought.

“It’s not about the books, Padfoot,” Remus snapped quietly, glancing away with reddened cheeks, the heat of your gaze on him still warming his body. “And I didn’t force you to be here,” he reminded.

“Well, no,” Sirius sighed. “But it’s terribly tragic for you to spend the first nice day Hogwarts has seen in-“

“A decade,” James chimed in, exaggerating to help Sirius make a point.

“A decade,” Sirius agreed with a nod. “Inside a hall full of books instead of playing outside with us! As your friend, it’s our duty to convince you to abandon this wretched place and do something more fun.”

“Well said, Padfoot,” James agreed, tall frame spread languidly across three chairs in a makeshift bed. “Dare I say, revolutionary. So, black lake, Moony?”

“I’m perfectly content here, thank you very much,” Remus refused, thoroughly entertained by James and Sirius’s usual dramatics.

“Who could be content in such an oppressive place,” Sirius complained, as if he himself didn’t have good grades and didn’t spend time studying in this very library. “Other than Lily,” he added, recognising the smitten glint in James’s eyes that he got every time he brought her up.

“She’s so responsible, my lovely Lily,” James sighed, pleased with himself. “I’m going to marry that girl, just you wait and see. It’s the only reason I come to the library with her.”

“You come to the library to chat up Lily? No wonder you aren’t dating yet,” Sirius teased. As James and Sirius went back and forth poking fun at each other, Peter pondered Remus’s words.

“If you’re not here for the books, what are you here for?” Peter wondered aloud, causing Sirius and James to glance expectantly at their friend.

Remus rolled his eyes, intending to fabricate a fantastic comeback that would distract his three friends, but even the thought of you caused his stare to drift back to where you were, now getting up to choose a different book to check out of the library.

He loved the way you did that. Even if you finished a book in your time at the library, you always made sure to bring a book with you.

Remus loved the way you did everything, really. He had always liked you, ever since you loaned him a quill when he forgot his during Defence Against the Dark Arts. Even now, it was his favourite class just because it made him think of you.

“Moony?” Sirius waved a hand in front of Remus’s face in an attempt to grab his attention. “Remus, what are you staring at?” he followed Remus’s gaze and saw exactly what he was staring at. “Oh,” he said, finally connecting all the very obvious clues together. “It’s not a what, it’s a who,” Sirius practically giggled with glee.

James’s head snapped in your direction, scrambling to sit up and launch himself next to Sirius in an effort to get a good look at you. This commotion once again drew your attention, leading James and Sirius to act as naturally as they could. They picked up the books stacked in front of them and made a big deal out of reading the text aloud, the act so comical and over-the-top that it couldn’t possibly be convincing.

You grinned to yourself, shaking your head in amusement, and slipped behind a bookshelf to look over the Herbology section. Frank Longbottom had recommended a delightful title on growing Dittany and other healing herbs, and you took the older boy’s recommendations very seriously.

Once you were out of sight, James tossed his book thoughtlessly aside, snatching Remus’s book from his grasp to gain his undivided attention. “Who is that, Moony my dear?” James asked, adjusting his glasses. They had slipped down his nose when he whipped his head around to look at you, and the act had made the boy a little dizzy.

“Who?” Remus asked, knowing that his performance was pitiful and unconvincing, and pretending not to understand regardless of this fact. “What do you mean?”

Frustrated that Remus was lying, and subsequently that he was an absolutely terrible liar, Sirius exclaimed, “The girl you were staring at!”

“Who is that girl? Do you know her?” James asked excitedly, taking a more enthusiastic approach than Sirius in hopes that it would make Remus open up about his crush.

“Girl?” Remus repeated, squinted as if he was giving this conversation a real good thought, before widening his eyes sarcastically. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sorry boys.”

James and Sirius shared a look – having a silent conversation that Remus would promptly regret keeping them in the dark about his crush – before rolling their eyes and sighing. They had decided it: they were just going to have to catch you when Remus was gone.

A few hours later, it had darkened considerably since you first entered the library, and once you realised that you had been hauled up in the library for a considerable amount of time, you realised how hungry you were. Perhaps camping out in the library all day without a proper lunch wasn’t your best idea, but at least you knew dinner would be ready soon.

Rising, you stretched your legs before collecting all the books you had flicked through that day and moving to stow them back in their original places on the tall Hogwarts library shelves. Most of them were within a reasonable reach, slotting easily into their previous spots as you strolled happily throughout the library. However, one of the books was at a considerably higher place on the shelf, and you couldn’t put it away even on the tips of your toes.

With a huff of frustration, you stood flat on your feet and were about to reach for your wand when someone took the book from your grasp. “Here,” a voice said from behind you. “Let me help you with that!”

You turned just in time to see Sirius Black easily putting your book away for you, his friend James Potter standing nearby with an uncharacteristic spring in his step. Though James and Sirius were always a ball of energy in the classes you shared with them, the grins they sported today were difficult to identify. Perhaps mischievous would be the best way to describe the perfect simpers on their faces.

“Thanks,” you acknowledged his help with furrowed brows, wondering what Sirius and James could possibly be so ecstatic about. When the two boys simply stared at you, unmoving, you figured that they wanted something from you. “Did you two need something?” you asked, their unwavering smiles growing slightly unnerving.

“Oh!” Sirius seemed to realise that they were staring at you, and how disturbing this might be to a girl they had hardly spoken to. “Right! Yes, actually. We wanted to have a word with you.”

“Okay,” you nodded as if this wasn’t unusual. James and Sirius certainly didn’t seem to think their behaviour was odd, so you figured they were harmless on this particular occasion.

“We were just wondering if you knew Remus,” James explained himself, barely keeping still with excitement. “I mean, you do know him, don’t you?”

You nodded, still weary of where the conversation was leading. Sirius and James were known to be pranksters, and you weren’t sure if you were the next victim of one of their jokes. “Yes, I know Remus,” you confirmed. “He’s your friend, right? I speak to him sometimes when we’re in the library at the same time.” When Sirius and James linked hands and started jumping up and down, utter confusion overwhelmed you. “Uh, why do you ask?”

Noticing your discomfort, James and Sirius stopped jumping in favour of smiling at you. “I’m sorry, what was your name again? We share a few classes but between listening to the Professor and keeping James in check it can be hard to keep up,” Sirius said, his natural charisma making him instantly likeable.

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” James said politely. “Now, this may seem quite blunt, but we want to set you up with our friend Remus,” he said matter-of-factly, followed by an encouraging nod from Sirius.

Your eyes widened at the confession. “Oh,” you said awkwardly. “I’m not going to lie, I had no idea that’s what you were going to say.”

“We have that effect on people,” said James, nodding sympathetically, as if people often had this reaction to the things they said. “So? What do you say? Give our mate Remus a chance?”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you shook your head, trying to smile politely.

The smiles on Sirius and James’s faces faded. “Why not?” Sirius inquired, tilting his head to the side as he observed your nervous expression. “Do you not like Remus?”

“Why wouldn’t you like Remus?” James added, appalled and affronted at the mere idea of someone not liking their best friend. “You like reading, don’t you? Well, Remus might even have you beat! He’s the world’s biggest bookworm.”

“Incorrigible,” Sirius agreed. “Can’t get him out of this bloody library. And you aren’t helping, either,” he added.

“I’m not?”

“Of course not!” James exclaimed. “You only keep him here even longer than usual! Even on a day as lovely as this.”

“Perfect for wasting time,” sighed Sirius, lamenting the wonderful day outside they had missed out on. “So, how come you don’t like Remus?”

“That’s not it,” you said hurriedly, struggling to get a word in amongst their quick banter. “It’s just,” you sighed. “Why are you asking me this anyway?” you changed the subject, hoping it would take some of the heat off of you.

Luckily for you, it worked. “Well, Remus seems to have developed a crush on you,” James said casually, as if he wasn’t bearing one of his best friends’ deepest secret. Well, second deepest secret. “It’s really quite adorable. All the typical crush symptoms. You know, longing gazes,” James began listing the many qualities he had noticed in Remus during the last few hours. “Romantic, hopeless sighing whenever you’re around, losing focus, refusing to play with his best friends even on a day as perfect as this.”

“The list goes on!” Sirius exclaimed. You had to smile at the two friends, not only were they quite comical, but they seemed to be buzzing with endless energy. “I think it would benefit you to give Remus a chance. He’s rather attractive, our friend.”

“Though, not as attractive as us,” James added, winking to show that he was joking.

“Well we can’t hold everyone to such impossible standards,” Sirius said sympathetically, nodding to himself. “Still, he’s quite attractive! Charming and kind, too. All the things girls like. So are you in?”

“Well,” you stammered, feeling your face burning with embarrassment when you saw how intently Sirius and James were looking at you.

To save you from your answer, the sound of Remus’s footsteps and voice interrupted your sentence. “What are you boys still doing here,” he froze when he came into view, noticing the way Sirius and James had cornered you. “Y/n?” he asked, the picture of you hanging out with his two best friends nothing short of foreign and unfamiliar. Remus sighed in annoyance when he saw Sirius and James exchange guilty faces. “What have these two told you?” he asked you, already dreading your answer.

“We didn’t tell her much,” Sirius said, quick to defend their actions. “We’ve just been… talking,” he added, purposely leaving out the subject matter. James nodded rigorously, smiling innocently at Remus with visible panic in his eyes.

“I’ll talk to you both later,” Remus said to his friend, tone firm and borderline scolding. Then, he faced you with what looked like an apologetic smile. “Do you need help putting that away?” he asked, nudging his head to the last two books in your arms

You smiled, instantly more comfortable now that Remus was there. With a nod, you left Sirius and James behind in favour of putting your books away. “Listen,” Remus began, gently taking your books and putting them on the correct shelf in the Herbology section. “I’m really sorry for whatever Sirius and James said,” he let out a nervous laugh, easily reaching the high shelves thanks to his tall height.

“Don’t be,” you shrugged, charmed by Remus’s very presence. Something about Remus’s gentle spirit contrasted comfortably with Sirius and James’s craziness, and it settled your heart in a wonderful way. “They meant well, I think,” you smiled up at Remus. “Your friends are really nice.”

“I wouldn’t say nice, perhaps deranged is more accurate,” Remus joked, a pleased smile gracing his lips when you laughed. “But they’re pretty great. I can always count on them to say things I’m too scared to say,” he admitted, trailing off into a comfortable silence.

“I don’t know about them being deranged, but they did have some interesting things to say,” you admitted, fully intending to tease Remus once you realised his friends were telling the truth. He really did have a crush on you. “All about crushes, and longing gazes,” you added, grinning when you saw Remus turn slightly pink at your insinuation.

Remus groaned, lifting his hands to cover his face in embarrassment. “Oh Merlin,” he muttered, nervous laughter bubbling from his mouth. “I’m so sorry! If anything they said made you uncomfortable, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you shook your head. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. Stunned by the sheer force of their energy? Definitely. But not uncomfortable. I guess it was just hard to believe,” you admitted. “Still is, really.”

“What, that I fancy you?” Remus asked, uncovering his eyes once you assured him that you weren’t upset. “Why is that hard to believe?”

“I don’t know, you’re… Remus Lupin,” you explained terribly. “You’re a Gryffindor and you’re funny and popular. Your friends didn’t even know what my name was and I’ve been in your class for nearly six years now,” you recalled, shrugging your shoulders good-naturedly.

“Sirius and James hardly remember their own names, I wouldn’t take it personally,” Remus wisecracked, though there was a seriousness in his eyes that made you believe his words. “Besides, the trouble is only just starting!” he added. “Now that they know your name, you won’t be able to get rid of them.”

“Sounds terrifying,” you joked back, grinning.

“There’s no escaping those two,” Remus said dramatically. “I’ve been trying to shake them for six years now, but they don’t seem to care.”

“Maybe I should change my name,” you offered.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Remus burst out, laughing at your banter. You grinned at each other, so absorbed with the other person that you didn’t notice Sirius and James poke their heads around the shelf to eavesdrop on your conversation. “Y/n, do you think,” Remus paused, intimidated by the adorable way in which you turned your head and smiled at him. You were overwhelmingly perfect, and it was really starting to distract the poor boy. “Would you maybe…”

“Would I maybe?” you encouraged.

“Would you maybe want to go to Hogsmeade with me? This upcoming weekend? If you’re not busy that weekend, I mean,” Remus said, barely getting the words out without struggling.

“Oh,” the smile on your face widened almost impossibly so. “I think I might be busy,” Remus’s face dropped, eyes averting to his feet to hide his disappointment. “Changing my name to avoid these two boys I just met. However, their friend is pretty cute, so perhaps I could postpone my plans,” you added quickly, not wanting your joke to go badly.

Remus’s head rose quickly to meet your eyes, a relieved sigh leaving him. “Really?” he asked rhetorically, and before you could confirm your answer, you heard loud cheering come from beside you. Within seconds, James and Sirius leapt out from behind you and tackled Remus into a hug.

“Yeah Remus!”

“That’s our best friend!”

“Our best friend is finally going on a date!”

“Don’t scare her off,” Remus warned, pushing James away as he started peppering kisses across his face. “Seriously, stop it,” he laughed, not meaning a single word.

“No,” Sirius said proudly, pulling you in to join their hug. “Y/n’s just going to have to get used to us.”

You quite liked the sound of that.

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hesthermay · 2 months

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𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

PAIRING: tech x gn!reader

SUMMARY: "when i met ana, i knew; i loved her to the point of invention." -sarah ruhl

WORDS COUNT: 1.1k

RATINGS + WARNINGS: general audiences. fluff. valentines day blurb. use of y/n. au where everyone is happy on pabu.

NOTES: bada bing bada boom this is 4 days laaaaaaaaate so sorry humblest of apologies please love it

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

“Tech?”

“Yes?”

“...what is that?”

Life on Pabu was breezy. Safe, protected, warm, and happy; Pabu was cut from a different cloth than the rest of the galaxy, light despite the unrelenting weight of Empirical oppression. Thus was why the Bad Batch had chosen it to hunker down and perhaps create some roots somewhere not centered around war and pain.

With the entrance of the Batch on Pabu, came the entrance of Tech into Y/N’s life.

Peculiar, that one was, but you couldn’t help but find yourself enamored by him. Naturally, it was a slow progression between the two of you, with a friendship forming before the man even started processing the second layer of your relationship. Even with the ever so gracious help of Omega, Tech was oblivious to the little hints, the tension that organically formed, and could not fathom why you would go out of your way to do the simplest of things for him.

Tech was more than capable of feeding himself, yet from time to time dinner was brought over with claims of having extra. He knew there was no way you, who lived alone, would have this much leftover food for one meal yet the possibility of you intentionally making this just to bring it to him was unrealistic—and even further, impossible.

It had been Hunter who had let him in on the not so hidden fact that dinner nights with you weren’t really meant for them all. Yes, you were all of their friend—but those visits, that thought and care was for Tech. He had argued, of course, and it had been Omega this time who informed him that that was just what you do.

“What they care for someone, they do things for them,” she explained as if it was the most obvious thing as she tinkered with some gadget. “Y/N makes dinner for all of us, but they always make your favorites, Tech. You know,” she turned, grinning at her brothers, “they always carry a cloth in case you need to clean your goggles.” With that, the girl stood from her seat, gathering her things and exiting the room, leaving behind an air of wisdom of someone much older than her. She did that often, and that was why Tech slightly believed her.

Upon further research, Tech discovered what was known as a love language. The dots, how ever he missed them before, finally connected in his mind in the late of night.

Rules he upheld with his brothers and Omega, he was more lax with you. Your presence when he was not in the mood to socialize was more tolerable than the rest, and he recalled all the times he had observed and factually stated that you were beautiful to himself. Beauty, though subjective in nature, was a natural occurrence in life. And Tech was not afraid of the truth, and the truth was that you had been beautiful all along, and he had thought of you slightly more special than most others he knew.

That was what had led them to this moment. Tech had stayed up all night, working into the wee hours of morning on as many projects as he could manage. And then, waiting until he knew you would go about your usual tasks of the day, he trekked to your home and installed every creation he had produced.

“You complained that the cover over your walkway floods your garden when it rains, so I created a funneling system to redirect the waterflow elsewhere,” he answered, pushing his goggles up his nose. “And you mentioned a draft because your front door would not close all the way, so I fixed it. And the side window that was previously cracked has been replaced with an upgraded version.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest as you watched him rock ever so slightly on his feet, glancing at you here and there but not keeping his eyes on one thing too long, and it struck you that he must have been nervous. While Tech was known to fidget, nerves were not something he displayed signs of hardly ever, and heat gathered in your cheeks.

The sun was warm, Tech was as handsome as ever, and your smile could not have been any larger. “An upgraded version, huh?” Your eyebrows raised playfully, voice light as you took one step closer.

“Yes, upgraded,” he affirmed seriously before continuing, beginning to walk away. “As per your complaints, the window offered no privacy nor did it—” he cut himself off, stopping in his tracks when he noticed you hadn’t walked off with him. Instead of grumbling or giving a sarcastic quip, as he was ever inclined to do, he backtracked until your hand was grasped in his. He tugged your arm lightly, beckoning you to follow him as he resumed his explanation. “As I was saying, nor did it filter any of Pabu’s natural light in your home, so…” he trailed off until the two of you were planted right in front of the said window on the side of your house.

It was your bedroom window to be exact, and true to his word, it was no longer cracked.

But instead of regular transparasteel, the surface had been frosted over. You could no longer see right into the room, but instead see little designs in the glass, swirls and such riddled all over the place. “I made this last night,” he offered, looking between you and the window, voice much softer than before. “The light, it will not be as harsh on you, and you now have privacy while still having the effect of an open window, which…” he exhaled ever so slightly, the weight of your hand in his heavy on his mind as he looked over at you once again, “which I know you love.”

He was right. You had mentioned that the solution to your problem was as simple as some curtains, but then that would eliminate the natural light as a whole and that was the opposite of what you wanted. You had not had the skills or the mindset to create the solutions to these problems, though not detrimental in severity, but for some reason Tech had taken it upon himself to be the one to remedy them.

“Tech…” you whispered, looking at him with a tender love he was not used to receiving. It made his heart rate accelerate in his chest, as he thought back to all of the acts of service you had done for not only him but his family as well.

You had loved him to the point of service, and Tech had realized that he loved you to the point of invention.

“No need to mention it,” he whispered back, unable to fight off the blush in his cheeks as you smiled at him. “That is just what people do when they care. You taught me that.”

all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my work as your own.

#this was meant for valentine’s day!#oops :P #anyways it’s cute i like it #the witch: writes #tech x reader #tech tbb #tech x you #tech oneshot #the bad batch one shot #the bad bad x reader #tbb x reader #clone x reader #clone x you #tcw x reader #—signed; tech

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

Text

Sense

❧ Pairing: Alpha!Daryl Dixon x Female Omega!Reader ❧ Era: Season 2 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—a/b/o dynamics (leave me alone), rough sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, doggystyle, unprotected sex, knotting (shut up), heat/rut (fuck you), outdoor sex (?), like one or two mentions of breeding, swearing, Shane being creepy ❧ Word Count: 9.2k

❧ Prompt: "What do you even see in this guy?" from the Norman Reedus Whores Discord Prompt Challenge (more info here)

❧ Summary: It's that time of year again, the time when yours and Daryl's highest point of sexual desire sync up. There are a few problems, though: Daryl's preoccupied with finding Sophia, and Shane is getting a little too... attracted to you.

❧ A/N: Here it is, my first foray into omegaverse. You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain, as they say. I've become the villain. Nevertheless, I'm pretty happy with how this turned out and I didn't cringe too much while writing it so hopefully you don't cringe too much while reading it either (but it's ok if you do—omegaverse is always a little cringe).

Gold-tinted light streamed through the thin fabric of the polyester tent, allowing tiny particles of dust to shine as they floated past the ever-widening beam that shone across your eyelids, causing them to flutter open with a wince.

Something about summers in Georgia seemed to make the sun even more intense, and the heat that radiated from it even more oppressive. You wiggled yourself loose in his arms, tightly wrapped around you from the back. He always tended to cling tighter to you in his sleep, as if it was some kind of unconscious instinct.

With a huff, you turned on your side to face him, tucking your head between the crook of his neck and the pillow in an attempt to escape the bright light of early morning, and to cling to the last remnants of sleep for as long as you could.

It was also an excuse to take in his scent, strong and woody, yet somehow also soft and musky. By force of habit, he held you closer, his arm tightening over the curve of your side as his nose gently nuzzled your cheek, tickling you awake.

“Goddamn, it’s bright,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the morning light from burning his eyes. Blue eyes are more sensitive to sunlight, and his were no exception.

“Mm…” you hummed. Despite your state of consciousness, you felt more like you were in one of those dreams that are so vivid they almost seem real, with fuzziness blurring the usually harsh edges of your perspective. Mornings were always like this, slow and quiet. Even with the world gone to shit, at least you still had this, that one constant—waking up next to him, in those bulky arms made muscular from years of hunting with that silly crossbow. Well, you used to think it was silly. Now you couldn’t complain, since it certainly came in handy against the walkers.

Ah, yes—the walkers. The only thing that could possibly ruin the peace of your morning. That, and Sophia was missing. Still missing.

Daryl had been beating himself up about it for the last three days, not able to rest a second since coming to the Greene farm. He was hellbent on finding the child, relating the situation to the time he’d been lost in the woods when he was even younger than her. Only difference for him was that no one cared enough to look for him.

But it was an inopportune time for the young girl to go missing. You could smell it on him.

A necessary fact of life. It would happen twice, maybe three times in any given year, but it was enough to threaten his ability to find that little girl. It was radiating off him stronger and stronger with each passing hour, starting around dawn just the day before. For Daryl, it came quick and fast, a scab demanding to be picked, an itch begging to be scratched, a biological imperative he had no choice but to succumb to at some point, but he was determined to keep it off as long as he had to.

You worried for him, knowing how strong his urge was, and how much it clouded his mind and ate at his insides. For some men like him, it was much less intense, much more tolerable. For him, however, it was nearly painful, but he had to put it off, he thought. He couldn’t put himself before that poor soul lost in the forest, before the grieving mother whose glassy eyes haunted him everyday that child was gone, in danger of being torn apart by flesh-eating monsters.

“Daryl,” you mumbled, feeling him begin to squirm restlessly against you. You knew him well enough to know he was trying to shake the rut out of him, trying to ignore it, though he knew it wasn’t good for him. You tried to hold him steady, pulling the blanket further up his body as if to keep him contained, but the fresh sweat beading on his bare chest was a reminder of just how terribly hot he already was. “Why don’t you stay here today, huh? Don’t go out there… Just rest.”

Just rest, a phrase that had been on your lips many times before, but always seemed to go unheard by the stubborn man. Such a suggestion was practically against the man’s religion, if he had cared enough to believe in one. There was less and less to believe in these days, anyway.

“Nah,” he replied gruffly, suddenly sitting up in your shared cot to squint in dismay at the sun streaming in. “That kid’s still out there.”

You huffed and watched him move like a rabid animal as he frantically searched for his clothes, cursing under his breath when he picked up one of your jeans instead of his. “Told ya to keep your clothes separate, woman,” he huffed, shaking his head as he buttoned up his raggedy plaid shirt.

“Mm,” you hummed with a smile, amused by his characteristic grumpiness, though you knew he was a little more irritable than usual, despite his denial. “Keeps my scent on you… Speaking of which…” You sat up to stretch, taking a deep breath as you did so. Even in your own state of slight discomfort, you were always much better at handling it than he was. “Your scent is getting stronger, you know.”

He tilted his head in slight annoyance, knowing that was your way of nagging him about his rut. “I’m fine,” he said simply. “Just stressed.”

You narrowed your eyes at the notion. “Your smell doesn’t get stronger when you’re stressed, Daryl. It gets stronger when you’re—”

“Damnit, woman!” he barked. “I ain’t ruttin’, Christ.”

“Mhm, sure… Well, my heat’s coming.”

Even after three years of being with you, he still turned a light shade of red whenever you so bluntly referred to sex. Still, if your heat was coming, that meant his rut was coming, too. At this point, they were synced, not an uncommon occurrence for mated alphas and omegas such as yourselves.

Daryl had never quite come to terms with being an alpha, but that’s what he was, and though he often found himself frustrated with his condition, at least he had you.

And, oh, you…

You with your scent, the one that he’d memorized and somehow could conjure up in moments when he needed you most, but that wasn’t good enough. He needed you next to him, physically. He always did. He knew that from the moment he first held you that he wouldn’t be able to go without you again, without feeling your closeness, or taking in your sweet, floral scent.

Sitting there before him, his ratty grey t-shirt two sizes too big draped over your shoulders, just perfectly accentuating the outline of your breasts as they rise and fall with each breath, you looked… ripe.

Ripe in that you were at your most delectable state, your highest point of primal attraction. You were always beautiful, of course, but in your heat, you were irresistible. He hadn’t been oblivious to it the past few days, weeks even. He knew your body so well now that he had your heat down to an exact science. He knew it was coming, and if your heat’s coming, then his rut is coming, but he didn’t have time for that now, not with the responsibility he had put on his own shoulders.

Still, it was hard to say no, hard not to get back in that cot and take you, tightly gripping your hot, aching body against his as his swelling knot grew inside you, binding you to him even long after he’d released himself into you.

No time for that, though. Not when he had a job to do.

“I know,” he said, acknowledging that you were on the verge of your heat, that you were going to need him just as much as he needed you soon. “But I gotta look.” He turned to strap his crossbow over his broad chest, the one that made you lick your lips just thinking about your hands all over the muscular tissue. “Gotta find that little girl.”

If there was one thing you loved about Daryl, it was his compassion, his willingness to risk his life to save the weak. Maybe most people didn’t get to see that side of him, but now that he had the opportunity, he could fully be the good man you always knew he was. It was sweet, but it was selfless. Too selfless.

You tossed the blanket from your body, exposing your bare legs to the air, drawing his eyes immediately to the darkened bit of fabric at the front of your panties, just barely covered by the hem of his shirt.

With your sudden movement, he caught a deep whiff of you, a more pungent scent than usual emitting from your core as you walked a few steps towards him.

The feeling of your hands on his chest sent a powerful signal to his brain, one that rang out like a siren, screaming at him to give in. He could tell what you were doing just by the flutter of your lashes, the smirk in your lip, the curl of your fingers as they trailed playfully up and down the collar of his shirt. You wanted him to touch you, to make that slight pain in your core go away before it got too intense, to rid you of that heat building up inside you like a house fire. He wanted that, too. It was impossible not to let your body press up against his, not to feel the hardness of your aroused nipples against his chest, not to rest his hands upon your hips as your forehead touched his.

“Please stay,” you whispered over his lips. “I need my alpha.”

Those words were strategically chosen. You knew reminding him of his possession of you, his omega, would get that chest of his pumped full of hot air and his cheeks reddened with a surge of blood flowing to his head. Not only that, but the possession in your voice, the tone that reminded him that he was yours just as much as you were his.

He could only muster a few deep, strangled sighs as your hungry lips pursed to kiss just below his ear, making his hands grip harder at your sides and pull you closer until he could feel your heat against his groin, your core getting hotter and hotter with each passing moment, and your scent becoming so irresistible that he found himself subconsciously, ever so slightly, grinding his lower body against yours.

With a turn of his head, he let your lips meet his, despite how much he knew he was just teasing himself, and you, now. There was no way he could stay, no way he could let that helpless child stay out there any longer. Still, if he could allow himself just one moment to satiate his need for you, he would, even if it only eased a small part of his primal lust.

“I want your knot,” you whispered sloppily, wildly as your tongue became more desperate to taste his, breaching the entrance of his mouth to lap up his taste.

He growled low at your words, his hand rising up to tangle in your hair and pull your face as close as it could get. The other hand found itself squeezing your bottom, fingertips digging into the plump flesh as he held you steady to better thrust himself against you, your slick beginning to seep through the thin fabric of your panties and onto the surface of his jeans.

“(Y/N)...” he panted. “I—I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” you panted back, now putting your own hand on the back of his head to pull his lips back to yours. When his lips peeled away, you used your free hand to drag his down to cup your clothed mound, allowing his fingers to graze the puddle of wetness. “My body needs you, Daryl… Just you. Only you.”

Another tried and true method for getting him to shut up and screw you, but the closest you got was thrusting back and forth on his palm, using it to relieve the slightest amount of tension from your aching body. It worked for a moment, but soon you nearly sent him backwards with the force of your body writhing on his hand, and you knew you couldn’t get anywhere with it—you needed the intense friction of his cock, the feeling of it pulsing inside you and hitting the deepest part of you just right.

“Oh, God,” your lips mumbled as they sloppily massaged his. “Fuck me now.”

He pulled his hand away swiftly, using it to separate his body from yours, as he was sure he couldn’t go another moment of being that close to you without ending up back on that bed.

“Later,” he said, followed by a hard swallow as he tried to calm himself down. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down the side of his face and wettening the short strands of caramel brown hair stuck to either side.

His body heat showed no signs of dropping, not until he could get far away from you, and he could already tell that if he stayed with you today, he wouldn’t leave for hours after he’d knotted you. There was too much work to be done, and his own biological need would have to wait. He just hoped you could wait, too, though something about the deep, trembling frown dragging on your face told him you couldn’t. At least, not without some struggle.

“Hey,” he said, trying to muster up the strength to touch you without losing it. His hands cupped your cheeks, on fire from the sheer intensity of your internal heat. “I gotta try to find that kid. It’s eatin’ me up inside.”

You mustered a small smile. He was always so damn selfless, it infuriated you. Well, it was what made you fall in love with him, besides the innate biological attraction that drew you to him. Your life philosophy had always been this: there are plenty of alphas, but a good alpha is hard to come by. Daryl was a good alpha, the only one you could tolerate, the only one you could love. You were sure of that.

Soulmates… As cheesy as it sounded, you knew it from day one, from the moment he walked up to you in that sleazy dive bar, face blurred from the cigarette smoke curling in grey clouds all around him, his hands tucked deep in his jean pockets as he cleared his throat, then stuttered, “C-can I, uh… Can I buy ya a drink?”

If you couldn’t tell by his scent, you would’ve thought he was a beta, but his scent was always strong—you were sure it was because he was immediately attracted to you, and your scent hit him like a semi-truck, too. It was love at first… scent.

No, Daryl was unlike any other alpha male you’d ever met, but he was one. That was impossible to deny.

“I know,” you said with a nod. Lifting his hand from your cheek, you pressed a light kiss to his palm, then nuzzled deeper into his touch. That damn man’s hands... Being held by him felt like being a porcelain teacup carefully tucked away in layers of sturdy bubble wrap, cushioned and protected from any cracks that could threaten to mar your fragile surface. “But your rut is eating you up inside too… It’s not good to hold it back for so long.”

He rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but be grateful for your concern, even slightly amused by how precious you were. “Always naggin’ me, woman, ya know that?”

“Mm, you wouldn’t last a day without me nagging you,” you laughed. Biting your lip, you reached up to fix his hair, still scraggly from his pillow. He scrunched his face in exaggerated annoyance, though even he couldn’t help but muster a boyish smirk at your doting.

As your eyes met his, another deep surge of pained arousal swept through you, triggering more slick to pool in your already soiled underwear. It was tempting to strip yourself of your shirt, knowing such a sight would be the ultimate trigger to get him to lay you down, but in your heart of hearts, you knew he needed to do this for your group. If you had to wait, you would wait, but you couldn’t wait much longer, you feared.

“When will you be back?”

“‘Fore dark.” He huffed and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, as anything else might’ve been dangerous. Noticing your eyes lower in disappointment, he nudged his forehead against yours. “Hey, omega,” he said softly. “You gonna be okay til I get back?”

No, you wanted to say, but you knew that would be a bit dramatic. Still, you knew from past heats that your need for him only grew stronger when he was gone, and if you were already leaking with slick now, who knows how bad you might get in the meantime.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I’ll be fine… I think. What about you?”

He scoffed playfully. “Woman, I’m gon’ be fine. Just be ready when I get back, a’right? I’m gonna need you even more.”

“Yes, sir,” you laughed. “Be careful, okay?”

“You too, and…” His voice trailed off, his face becoming less animated and more stern with each passing moment he went over the words he was about to say. “Stay in the tent.”

Never before had you gone through your heat around so many other alphas. Rick and T-Dog didn’t worry him much—Rick was married, bonded with Lori, and T-Dog seemed respectful of your bond with Daryl, but then there was… Shane.

Shane was an odd one in that though he was ostensibly an alpha, he seemed too emboldened, often disrespecting Daryl’s claim over you. On at least two occasions he had gotten much too close to you for your liking, and Daryl already had a pretty strong hunch that Shane had slept with Lori, a marked omega not unlike you.

It infuriated him, and he couldn’t even fathom how Shane could still be breathing at this point. If he caught even a whiff of that man on you, he’d strangle him with his bare hands, he was certain of it.

Knowing just how much Shane’s dilated eyes followed your body on a daily basis, he was sure your heat would attract him like a moth to a flame.

“Keep that thing on ya if you gotta go out,” he added, gesturing to the hunting knife he’d given you as it lay on the foldable bedside table. “That pig cop bastard touches you, I’ll—”

“He won’t touch me,” you interjected. “Your scent is strong enough to keep him away… My big strong alpha.” Your fingers tickled his chest as you smirked, holding back a chuckle at the cheesy compliment.

His heart fluttered, as it always did when you broke out the “big strong alpha” card. He was a sucker for it.

“A’right,” he said. “I love ya, sweet girl. Be back soon, hopefully with that kid.”

“Love you, too, Daryl.”

As he requested, you stayed in the tent for a while after he’d left, occupying yourself with the usual routine for your heat.

It wasn’t ideal, but the cot in your tent was the only place to make a nest of his clothes, a safe spot to immerse yourself in his scent until he came back to you.

Even that proved difficult, as you became quickly lightheaded, losing your balance each time you bent over to pick up another one of his shirts.

“Shit,” you cursed, holding your forehead and shutting your eyes tight to try to will away the dizziness. Every omega’s heat was different, and yours always had the worst dizziness, the worst fever, the worst throbbing pain in your womb.

It was your body’s instinctual way of demanding to be bred, and thank God you still had your birth control pills, even if your irrational, heat-ridden mind desperately wanted to carry Daryl’s child more than usual. There couldn’t be a worse possible time to bring a child into the world, you were sure.

The pounding in your head started now, in sync with each quickening beat of your anxious heart. It was as if the further Daryl got from the farm, the worse your symptoms became, the more every cell in your body screamed bloody murder in an attempt to call him back to you.

“Ah!” you quietly cried out. Doubling over in pain, you flopped yourself back onto the bed, its surface now draped in layers upon layers of every article of clothing Daryl had in his possession.

You buried your head in his pillow, trying desperately to surround yourself in his scent. It eased the pain slightly, tricking your mind into thinking he was there with you, holding you, but you lacked his warmth, his unique touch, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you to sleep as he held his deflating knot inside of you.

You reached down to find his favorite white undershirt, the one that always had the strongest scent. In desperation, you tugged off your shirt and laid the undershirt over your bare breasts, massaging them over top of the fabric.

It couldn’t beat the real thing, the real feeling of his chest pressed up to yours, but at least you’d get more of his scent on you, and at least your sensitive nipples could feel the familiar tickle of the ribbed fabric of that old tank top.

“Daryl…” you moaned shakily under your breath. You hadn’t realized just how bad it was, how much your heat had worsened just within a matter of the three hours he’d been gone.

The wetness was beginning to soak through your new pair of panties. You reached down to slip your fingers below the fabric, scooping up the slick as you tickled your aching clit.

Even just a little sensation was too much, and not at all the sensation you needed. Your body needed Daryl’s touch, not yours, not anyone else’s but his. The feeling stung, made you flinch in combined pain and pleasure. It might not have been him, but your hand was going to have to do if you wanted any semblance of relief before he got back.

You thrusted hard against your hand, arching your back with each movement as you desperately tried to soothe your body. All you could do was try to trick your heat-induced brain into thinking he was there, touching you… And moments later, when your fingers dug into you, squirming as they went in deeper and pumped hard to stimulate you, it almost worked.

“Oh, yes…” you sighed. “Daryl… Oh—”

“(Y/N)?”

Shane’s voice made you shoot up, sitting up straight to face the opening of the tent where the man’s silhouette was displayed from the outside.

Shit, you thought to yourself. What the hell does he want?

“(Y/N), you in there?”

“Yeah,” you huffed, quickly redressing yourself in Daryl’s shirt, then crossing over to haphazardly step into a pair of sweatpants. “Gimme a sec.”

Now semi-decent, you unzipped the flap of the tent, and swiftly stepped out to close it, hoping Shane couldn’t see the nest you’d made, or the wet spot on the bed.

Instead, you felt his eyes on you, trailing up and down your shirt, narrowing at the slight hardness of your nipples, still aroused from your touching.

“Everything okay?” you asked him, hoping to get him to leave as soon as he showed up.

He shrugged and folded his arms. “I was gonna ask you the same question. Ain’t seen ya since yesterday… Been in your tent all day. Thought you’d be out, I don’t know… doin’ laundry or somethin’.”

You scoffed, slightly offended by the assumption, though it wasn’t like there was much else to do. “I’m not feeling great,” you said simply, but you were sure he could tell why.

Indeed, he could. The scent was enough, much more potent and sweeter than usual, yet with much more of Daryl’s heavy scent than he liked. It was a bitter reminder that you were claimed, and the smell repulsed him, yet only made him want to cover it with his own.

“I know,” he said. “Your, uh… Your scent.”

Embarrassment. That was the only word you could think of to describe how you felt, and annoyance at his invasion of your privacy, but you weren’t confrontational enough to say anything. Not like Daryl.

“Yeah, well, uh… Did you need something?”

He lifted two silver pails in each hand, and you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Was gonna see if you’d help me pump some water from the well, if you’re up to it. Everybody else is busy, and I could use another hand.”

You always did have a hard time saying no, even if you knew your body was weak with your heat, but water was important, and maybe it could take your mind off your condition until Daryl would return, you reasoned.

Still, it was awfully bold of him to ask that of you, knowing you were in heat, and that you were with Daryl. You did as Daryl had told you—you took your knife and carried it in plain sight in the holder on your belt.

Each step you took alongside that man towards the well made you ache even more. Every muscle burned, and every dizzy spell became stronger until you sat with a huff on the wall of the well, taking a sip of your canteen as Shane readied the rope to lower his bucket.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” you sighed. “Just… I get really winded when I’m… Yeah.”

Shane nodded, watching closely as the water dripped from your chin, trickling onto your shirt and down below your collar.

“Don’t envy you,” he said. “Never been more inconvenient timing…”

“No,” you agreed. “No there hasn’t.”

You watched as he lowered the bucket, then pulled it back up with a strain of his muscles. Show-off, you thought, catching onto his less than subtle attempts to seduce you.

Filling his canteen from the pail, he sat himself down beside you, much too close for comfort.

His smell wasn’t too strong, but strong enough to make you sick. Any alpha’s scent besides Daryl’s would’ve made you nauseous now, and with Shane so close, his shoulder touching yours, you felt the bile in your stomach begin to rise at the base of your esophagus.

If he hadn't been there, it would’ve been nice. The warm August breeze tickling the nearby wind chimes, the birds chirping in the golden light of late afternoon, the placid quiet that settled in when all other sounds ceased… And then he nudged your shoulder again, offering you a misplaced smile before wrapping a loose arm around your shoulder, causing your spine to straighten in slight shock at the feeling.

“You all right?” he asked, rocking you back and forth with his hand curled on your shoulder.

Your cheek twitched in disgust at the whiff of his scent, much more powerful than usual in your heightened state. Aware of his scent rubbing off on you, you wriggled uncomfortably, thankfully causing him to remove his arm.

“I’m fine. Just need to get back soon. If Daryl knows I didn’t stay in the tent he’d skin me alive,” you laughed nervously.

“Where is Daryl?”

“Oh, um… He’s out looking for Sophia. Trying that new lead near the abandoned house.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thought he’d be here with you… With you like this.”

That’s none of your damn business, you thought, but of course, you were much too nice to say that, so instead you defended him.

“Well, he knows how much it means to everyone if we find her… He cares.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, thinking about him, his selflessness, his bravery, his kindness. Maybe he didn’t always show it, but ever since he lost Merle, he’d been coming into his own, embracing his true nature instead of trying to be something he wasn’t.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, and just that simple, dismissive sound was enough to get your blood boiling. “Think he oughta care more about you.”

“He cares a lot about me,” you quickly replied. “You don’t know anything about Daryl.”

“I know he should be here takin’ care of you…” He leaned closer looking you forcefully in the eye. He had a much more stern, intense look than you’d seen in him before.

His hand caught you off guard as he tugged on the collar of your shirt, revealing Daryl’s mark on the junction of your neck and shoulder. “Hey!” You pulled away, standing up to your feet and looking back at him with wild, confused eyes. He’d never touched you like that before, and it terrified you, knowing how many male alphas could turn violent at the drop of a hat, and Shane was particularly volatile, more so than Daryl or Rick or T-Dog. He was the only one who truly frightened you at times, and immediately you cursed yourself for agreeing to go anywhere with him.

He stood up to pull harder on you, tugging more at your shirt collar to glare at the scar made by the indentation of Daryl’s teeth over years of him marking you in that same spot.

“What do you even see in this guy?” he asked. “Sorry excuse for an alpha.”

You pulled away one last time, nearly ready to pull out your knife if you needed to.

“Fuck you,” you replied. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Don’t have to explain shit to you, Shane. I came out here to help, not to listen to you insult Daryl.”

You sidestepped around him to lift the filled pail. “I’m taking this back to camp. You can do the rest on your own,” you said, but he planted himself firmly in front of you, pushing you back towards the well. “Shane,” you said, “get out of my way.”

Before you knew it, he was lunging towards you, eyes locked on the crook of your shoulder, opposite of Daryl’s mark. If he’d gotten any further, you were sure he’d try to mark you by force.

Holding your knife to his neck, you pushed him away with all the strength you had. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you panted.

He shook his head, as if trying to shake out whatever desires he had. “I—I don’t…”

You didn’t wait for him to explain himself. There wasn’t any way he could, after all. He had come close to violating you, to marking you as some kind of encroachment upon you, upon Daryl’s mate.

The breeze hit you as you walked, wafting Shane’s faint smell up into your flaring nostrils. That bastard, you thought. The nerve… I can’t stand his fucking smell.

You couldn’t bear to bring that scent into your tent, so you sat several yards away from the camp, perched on a log as you hugged your legs against your chest, trying to let the scent of Daryl’s shirt envelop you.

That, and it seemed to be the only solution to easing your cramps, twice as bad as your run-of-the-mill menstrual cramps. The heat was unbearable as the sweat on your brow dripped and caught in your eyelashes, clouding your vision for a moment. You balled your fists and rubbed your eyes, and all the while, you swore you could smell Daryl’s scent getting stronger, as if it was carried by the breeze that gently flowed through your hair.

It was hypnotic, drawing your eyes up to instinctively look in the direction of the wind.

There he was, strutting towards you across the grassy field, sweat glistening on his bare, summer-tanned arms as his eyes narrowed at you. His look was somewhere between scolding and smoldering, with a heavy dose of desperation thrown in.

One thing was certain: he had one thing in mind when he saw you.

Picking up his pace and stepping with long strides, practically jogging, he tore his crossbow from his back and flung it to the ground, a coarse grunt combined followed by a deep huff as he swiftly moved closer, like a caged tiger about to be let out.

“Daryl?” you called out to him. You found yourself walking towards him, too, eyes locked on his heaving chest as his hands frantically worked to unbutton the top of his shirt.

The closer he got, the stronger his musky, earthy scent became—more potent and virile, more intoxicating as his energy surrounded you.

His hands separated now, one tugging on the middle button of his shirt, the other desperately loosening his belt buckle, the movement allowing the toned muscles of his arms to flex in the glow of the golden afternoon.

He’d been unsuccessful in his search, and the frustration of not finding Sophia only made his instinct stronger, his need greater, his arousal becoming more and more unbearable the longer he looked at you.

As he approached, there was only one thing on his mind, one sole purpose for him to commit to in that moment: taking you, filling you, breeding you.

Now with both hands on his belt, freeing the leather from the loops of his jeans, he dropped it carelessly, then quickly moved to the button.

He was only about two yards away, but it was too far. Your feet picked up the pace, until finally you were in his arms, limbs and tongues tangled around each other, breaths heavy and chests heaving, cores hot and aching.

Shane’s lingering scent didn’t even occur to you then, not even as Daryl’s nose sank into the crook of your neck, his hand pulling back the collar of your shirt as his tongue traced over the raised scar of his mark, tickling you.

Your own hands clung tight to his shirt, nearly tearing it as with every passing moment you became more frenzied, more impatient to feel his hot, bare skin under your fingertips.

When the warmth of his mouth slowly left your shoulder, and his rose up to narrow at you, somewhere between hunger and primal rage, you panicked, grasping his sweat-drenched cheeks in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. He pulled back with a low growl.

“Why’s his scent on you?”

Your hands tightened on his cheeks as you turned to stone, wanting nothing more than to ignore his questioning and carry on with the natural conclusion of your synced biological states. Daryl, however, was not going to forget so easily.

He knew you would never sleep with Shane. That was out of the question. Besides, if you had, Shane’s scent would’ve been much, much stronger, but it was concentrated on your shoulders, and it was fading, but repulsive nonetheless.

“He—”

“That bastard touch you?”

You froze for a moment, simultaneously terrified of the inscrutable look in his eyes, and aroused by the very same look.

“Tryin’ to put his filthy scent on ya?” he asked, more demandingly now, and yet with an oddly lustful lilt to his otherwise angered growl. “I’ll kill him… I’ll—”

“He barely touched me.”

Under your fingers, you felt his cheeks trembling in rage, his skin heat up from the inside out. He looked ravenous—out for blood, Shane’s blood. You couldn’t care less about that, though, as your body screamed to be touched, begged to be put out of its misery from the only person who could ever relieve you.

“He’s not my alpha,” you reminded him. “You are.” Even just a matter of moments was too much to handle like this, with the heat oppressing you from every possible angle, suffocating you. Being away from Daryl during this time was hard, but being too close and not having him touch you was worse.

You lifted your shirt above your head, rustling your hair in the process, then hurriedly removed your bra, finally freeing half your body from its cloth prison. Under normal circumstances, you’d never strip yourself out in the open, but right now? You were far enough from the camp not to care, and the heat was closing in all around you.

Pupils dilated, swallowing the usually gentle blue in a black hole of lust, his eyes glued to your bare breasts. If your goal was to distract him from his fury, it was working.

“Alpha,” you said softly, wrapping your arms around his hot, clammy neck, drenched in sweat that could’ve been from the Georgia summer heat, but you were sure it was also just his condition, his rut taking over every function of his aching body. “You’re the only one… My mate.”

His eyes darted to your shoulder, his mark. It was his physical reminder that you belonged to him, that the first time you made love during your heat, he loved you enough to leave that unique, intimate mark in the shape of his teeth, one he’d never given to anyone else before, and never would again.

Most of all, it reminded him that no one else could touch you, that he was the only man who could know the intensity of your sweet scent, the softness of your body, the sounds of your heavy whimpers as he filled you until his knot swelled, keeping him in place.

When his fingers trailed along the raised skin of your scar, you shivered at his touch. His face turned soft, yet strained with lust. Tilting his head, his other hand held your chin, maneuvering your head so he could nudge his nose against your cheek, his heavy breath blowing gentle, yet insistent, puffs.

His lips softly brushing against your face, he whispered in your ear: “You need me, huh?”

Clutching your hands to his shoulders, desperate to tug off his shirt, you whimpered under your breath, sighing deeply all the while.

“Omega needs ‘er alpha?” he asked lowly against your ear.

Unable to restrain yourself any longer, your hands scrambled up to tangle in his hair, pulling his lips to yours.

“Now,” you mumbled into his mouth. “Need you… now…”

He nodded frantically as he worked to undo the last buttons on his shirt, then carelessly tossed the fabric to the ground.

“Right here?” he asked, panting between kisses. Usually, such an idea would be out of the question for the private man, who never liked the idea of being so vulnerable out in the open like this, but he didn’t care much now. The tightness in his jeans and the dull ache all throughout his body made him lose sight of that, as much as he could. Privacy be damned. “Ain’t… ain’t you w-want your… nest?”

Shaking your head vehemently as his lips chased yours, desperate to cling to them, you pulled him down with you as you lowered yourself to the ground, until you sunk down into blades of sage green grass, faded by exposure from the hot summer sun.

Daryl’s laugh melted on your tongue like an ice cube, its cadence swallowed by your open mouth as you devoured him.

His weight on top of you provided some relief, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed was his body inside of yours, inhabiting it, reminding you again and again just who it belonged to. You didn’t really need the reminder, of course, but the thought of belonging to him was all the more arousing.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in tranquilized bliss when his body weight shifted, and he quickly pulled your pants and sodden underwear down to your ankles, where you kicked them off with a wiggle.

Before you knew it, his hands were hiking up the back of your thighs, resting them on his shoulders as he dove down to lick the slick that had settled between your folds. As the tip of his tongue swirled around your clitoris, your shoulders tensed and you let out a sharp hiss. It was already so sensitive, aching for more friction to stimulate the bundle of nerves.

He lowered his hand to curl two of his thick, calloused fingers inside of you, while his tongue sucked and lapped at the sensitive bud that begged for attention.

“Ah!” you cried out wildly, shaking as your hands gripped the grass, pulling it out in frustration. His fingers were not yet deep enough to relieve you of your desire, but his tongue moved so expertly that with each swirl you felt a new little shockwave pulse through you. “Yes! Oh!”

His fingers sank deeper now, pulling in and out of you rapidly, the palm of his hand hitting your sensitive outer parts each time.

Peeling his mouth away, he watched as the clear liquid pooled onto his hand, the slick glistening in the last light of the golden summer afternoon.

“Never seen ya make this much, girl,” he panted, pumping faster and faster to get you properly loosened up. After all, his knot would need enough room to sink inside you. “All this pretty slick… Just for me.”

With that curl of his fingers, you gasped, arching your back and throwing your arms over your face as you tried not to scream, but the feeling was intense. You were always so much more sensitive in your heat, and however he touched you, you were going to feel it ten times as strong.

“F-fuck!” you croaked out against your arm. The harder he went, the more your voice stuttered, the more your body bounced with his hand burying into you. “Alpha-a-a!”

“Shhh,” he said, holding his finger to his lips as he leaned over you, his other hand ceasing its harsh movement to gently caress your aching clit. “Keep it down, girl.”

He looked quickly back in the direction of the camp and the Greenes’ farmhouse, hoping they were still a good distance away, and that the view of the two of you couldn’t be so easily seen from behind the bushes and the smattering of oak trees.

Lunging up to fling your arms around him, he grabbed onto you in surprise at the sudden movement, and huffed as your lips attacked his cheeks, then trailed down to his mark, the small indentation of your own teeth on his shoulder.

His hand didn’t forget its job, though. He cupped your mound to once again penetrate you with his fingers, spreading them open inside you to better stretch you out.

As his fingers dug into you, your teeth sunk into his flesh, reopening the old wound once again until a few drops of blood could be tasted on your tongue.

He held you tighter with his other arm, digging his fingernails into your back as he groaned. “(Y/N)…”

In a fit of impatience, you reached down to begin tugging his unzipped pants from his body. He smirked against your lips, amused by how much you needed him. He needed you, too, though. It was torture not to be inside you, but he knew himself well enough to know he could hold out for a while, though not for long.

He maneuvered himself to help you remove his jeans, your hands constantly fighting with his, though both had the same goal. Both of you were wild, returned to a primal state of need and desperation. You were bound to each other by flesh and scent, and it only made the need for each other so much stronger, so unbearable in the most blissful way. It was torture, it was agony, and yet it was the most pure, beautiful feeling of yearning.

When he was bare, unburdened by the restraints of his clothes and now free in his natural state, he bent his knees under your thighs, and with his hands, pulled you up to his core until the tip of his cock met your slit.

He cursed himself for losing his patience, as the feeling of you grazing against him sent a sharp electrical current through him, more potent than anything he’d felt before.

“Fuck,” he cursed, holding you tighter by your lower back as he lowered you onto his cock.

Your head once again buried in his shoulder, you groaned as he let you sit, his cock burrowing deeper every second. “Oh, God… Daryl…”

“Just… stay still for a minute.”

He took a deep breath, holding you in your position as you sat upright with his legs underneath, and his cock now as deep as it could go. All you needed was for him to move and you’d be writhing, with an imminent release soon upon you, but he just needed the stillness for a moment, to bask in the feeling of completeness, of filling you perfectly and so effortlessly, as though your bodies were made for each other.

He felt your slick drip down his inner thigh, and with that, he fell forward, taking you down with him until your back was once again against the grass.

“Oh!” you cried in shock.

His hand trailed up your sides, then in a split second, he pinned your arms above your head, just as he began violently thrusting, hovering over you with an intense look of purpose.

His thrusts were fast, sloppy, wild… Yet his cock was angled so perfectly, and the friction of his body hitting your clit with each movement was inching you closer and closer to the climax, the one you needed to feel relief from your heat.

Usually, he went slower, much more precise and sensual, but in his rut, he couldn’t hold back like he did. It was pure, uninhibited, primal lust, and you felt it, too. Clenching your teeth and letting out a hiss, you struggled to tug your arms out from the grip of his hands. Sensing this, he loosened his hands, allowing you to lean up to pull him to your face, his body still wildly moving in and out of you. Your head leaned in to catch his lips with yours, and soon your tongues were inside the other’s mouth, swirling around in untamed circles.

You always needed the closeness of him, to feel his chest pressed against yours, so you held him tight as his cock pumped back and forth within the walls of your twitching entrance.

With a strained grunt delivered straight to your gaping mouth, he reached down to manually wrap your legs tight around his lower back. Your heels dug into his ass, keeping him steady for a moment as he paused inside of you to take a breath.

In the crook of your neck and shoulder, he kissed your mark. Mirroring his action, you did the same to his, while the nails of your tightly drawn fingers made shallow scratches in the skin of his back.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “You feel so good, omega.”

You laughed and grabbed his cheeks to turn his face back to yours. He looked a sight—red blotches adorning his cheeks, hefty beads of sweat trickling down his strained forehead, lips quivering and drenched in your saliva and slick. Sweat-soaked hair framed his face as the darkened strands stuck to the skin. Redness had even pooled in his chest, which heaved exhaustingly over yours.

As he caught his breath, you snaked your hand between your bodies, lowering it to your clit. The closer you got to your orgasm, the more stimulation you needed to maintain the tingly feeling in your core, so you circled your finger rapidly, feeling yourself on track towards bliss.

The sudden attention made you flinch and clench around him, sending him grunting as his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck!” he groaned. “Ah, yeah… Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pumped himself inside you again, hitting your most sensitive spot while you touched yourself, and it was only a matter of seconds now until you reached your peak. He knew that, too. His body was in sync with yours by now, and soon your bodies would be locked together, but first you needed to have your own release.

Still, he felt his knot begin to form around the base of his cock, swelling as he moved back and forth. As he hit into you, your entrance stretched more and more, preparing for your orgasm, and his knot.

“Oh, God!” you whimpered. “I—I… Daryl…”

“I got ya…” he panted back, in that deep, raspy whisper. “Come for your alpha…”

It was the last straw, the last little bit of motivation you needed as he thrusted into you harder, and your walls began to pulse with each shockwave of your orgasm.

Your body went limp underneath him as your mouth hung open to release a series of low moans. “Jesus…” you sighed.

He smiled and lowered himself to kiss you, taking in every labored breath. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” you laughed deliriously.

He lifted his head back up, holding himself above you with his arms outstretched to support his body weight as he began to thrust again.

But he could sense something that froze him in place, a whiff of putrid scent lingering on the breeze.

“Shit,” he huffed.

Catching the last remnants of Shane’s scent, he growled and pulled himself out with a small cascade of your arousal.

“Turn around,” he said lowly.

Not waiting for you to answer, his hands gripped either side of your waist to maneuver your body until you were on all fours. “Daryl,” you panted in surprise.

The incessant pounding in his head was too loud to hear your voice call out to him, too loud to hear your strained whimper as his cock filled you again, this time with his knot so close to its most swollen state.

You felt his body align with yours, gluing itself to your back. His teeth dug hard into your flesh, with each deep, purposeful thrust making you groan in combined pleasure and pain.

To his frustration, Shane’s scent became stronger, more potent. It was sickening, but you couldn’t even notice it, not when Daryl’s scent surrounded you in a thick, hazy cloud.

No, you didn’t notice. You couldn’t even see Shane approaching in the distance, but Daryl did.

He growled against your shoulder, eyes glowering to meet Shane’s as he froze in place. He must’ve been going out to collect firewood, as he usually did around this time, but that was of no consequence to Daryl, whose rage-induced lust only got stronger.

Shit, he saw Shane’s lips move to say. He was too far away to hear, but still close enough to see the look of panic, and jealousy, on his face.

Under normal circumstances, Daryl would’ve jumped up and ran to put his clothes on, but there wasn’t going to be any separation of your bodies now, not even if he tried. He couldn’t betray his primal need, and neither could you. Besides, it was the perfect opportunity to let Shane know just who you belonged to.

“Oh, fuck!” you blurted out as his body thrusted hard into you, his cock penetrating the deepest part of your insides. “Daryl!”

He dug his teeth deeper into your shoulder, making you cry out once again. “Alpha!”

“That’s right,” he panted into your ear. “I’m your alpha… Scream for me.”

“Oh, yes! Daryl!”

He didn’t want you to keep it down now. With Shane near, that hideous reminder of his scent on the air, he needed you to scream, to let the bastard know once and for all that you were bound for life to him, no one else.

Shane was still dumbfounded, intrigued by the sight, but repulsed, too. He simply couldn’t look away, until Daryl’s snarl became so violent that he found himself backing away, finally yielding to the superior man, the superior alpha.

Daryl’s lip quirked slightly to one side. His show of dominance had worked. He could be embarrassed about it later, but now? Now, he felt his knot swell up again, almost so big now that he could no longer pull himself out.

You felt it, too, the tightness at your entrance as his knot stretched you much further than it had in a long time. He could only knot during his rut, but you knew this was no ordinary rut.

“Feel that?” he sloppily groaned against your shoulder. “Feel my knot?”

Rendered speechless, you nodded frantically as your arms threatened to fold underneath you. They shook to stabilize you, but soon his body stopped moving entirely, and all you could feel was that knot keeping him in place, seconds before his climax.

“Fuck!” he cried out. “Shit, I—I’m…”

You felt his cock begin to twitch deep inside you, spreading his spend in the deepest recesses of your core, where you felt his warmth embrace you.

With a gasp, your arms finally gave out, taking Daryl down with you, and with your head buried in the grass, you let out a deep sigh of relief. Something within you switched off, and finally, your heat was over.

Exhaustion swiftly took over Daryl, and he rolled onto his side with you in his arms, and you knew the two of you would be like this for a while, possibly all night. His knot would take hours to go away, it usually did.

You felt his lips gently purse against the skin of your neck, repeating several times as he worshipped you and the taste of your sweat.

“Shit, that was good,” he huffed, laughing a little to himself at the look on Shane’s face. Soon he’d find himself fuming again, needing to throw a few choice words at the insufferable man, but he’d rather bask in the afterglow for now. Besides, he was king of the jungle now, as far as he was concerned.

Blissfully unaware of the situation, you giggled and wrapped your hand around his. “Mm, so good… And you tried to tell me you weren’t rutting.”

He shook his head and bit your neck just a little, eliciting a small faux whimper from you. “Hey!” you laughed.

“You know just how to push my buttons, huh?”

“Better than anyone else.”

Holding each other in the grass, night fell over you like a blanket, and soon all you could hear were crickets and toads, and the faint tinkling of the wind chimes from the Greene house porch.

Soon you were lulled to sleep, with Daryl just barely dozing off, but he tried to keep awake, in case of the off chance a walker stumbled out of the woods.

In the morning, he’d have to corner Shane, to further reiterate the point he tried to prove earlier, to reassert his dominance.

That could wait, though. For now, he just held you, wondering what you were dreaming about.

He just hoped he was in it.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

✏ Taglist

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hesitantvampirealien · 9 days

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notifications disabled for this post. Send me any potential corrections through the asks or private messages.

I know i said I wouldn't do public angry rants anymore, but this is a nevessary rant. I ask you to read the entire text before interacting with the post (obviously)

stop misgendering gerard on purpose

you know very well what kind of person you sound like when you do that.

it's just lowkey comical (if not enraging) how some refer to them with the one pronoun they don't use, as far as I'm aware at least, but I've never seen anyone say they used all, only he/they, if I'm wrong you can tell me (but I'll need a RELIABLE source to what you say to make sure you're not just making shit up to have the right to disrespect someone without being rightfully scolded), so using "she" just makes you incredibly disrespectful. Like... you think a he/they can't wear a dress? you think a he/they can't show femininity? you think a he/they isn't allowed to not look like a straight cis guy all the time? You think just because someone doesn't use a male label then they automatically must be female and can't just be neither, or use no labels at all? You think a person can't be happy showing fenininity if they're not a woman? you think that's not possible? you think that's WRONG, perhaps? because THAT is what you sound like. Not only to me, but to many people that I've seen complaining inumerous times about this INSANE disrespect

following the same logic, do you think, for example, because I'm wearing makeup in most of my photos and don't fit in one particular binary gender, i don't have your permission to be a he/him and i have to be what YOU say i should be? because that's what you sound like when you do that

and i can already tell someone's gonna be butthurt and tell me I'm exaggerating so they don't have to feel shame for being a disrespectful little bitch. Gerard is a person, not a fucking character you can headcanon things about.

Not to mention that this kind of disrespect is one of the reasons why some masc or neutral trans people also feel extremely unsafe wanting to use or do things considered feminine, because look at how you're fucking treating a person that you don't even actually know. It's not 100% correlated (well... it is, a little bit) but don't even get me started on the shit my masc or neutral fellas have to go through because of people who very obviously also love to give them a hard time just because they don't fit in your "preferred gender label" and make them feel like shit for existing because you keep throwing them in the same pit as cishet men who fuck things up and say all of them are the same (newsflash, you're being just as oppressive as the cishet men). Like, I'm sorry (I'm not sorry) but most of you, if not all of you, are those exact same people, who do the exact same things and behave the same way, you're just doing it in different intensities. Just go fuck yourself already, seriously. I genuinely mean it with all my heart.

if I'm wrong about the he/they, do tell me and show me the reliable source so i can be sure that I'm actually wrong and can correct myself properly, but I'll most likely keep the post up since i also brought up another issue regarding this kind of disrespect.

#gerard way #mcr #my chemical romance #mcrmy

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rendawngrimes · 2 months

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Yandere Harry Potter Alphabet! <33

Dark (ish) themes below the cut!

I’m so so sorry if there’s any grammar or timeline mistakes :(( (He’s a cutie pie :3)

A-affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

- Harry loves holding you, he’s almost always touching you and he tends to keep close.

B-Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

- He could possibly have to get rid of a few people, but he wouldn’t really try to go out of his way. Perhaps using the unforgivable curse, but I doubt it.

C-Cruelty: How would they treat their darling?/ are they cruel to them

- he’s never cruel! :(( he loves you!! Harry would never be cruel, he’d probably tease, but nothing that bad!

D-Darling: Aside from (possible) abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

- I honestly don’t think he would make you do a bunch against your will, maybe a few small, simple things like making you eat your food, He wants what’s best for you!

E-Exposed: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

- He bears his whole heart (and more) to you! He is a little vulnerable, so you can use it to your advantage….but why would you want to!??

F-Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

- He’d be a little annoyed, sad even..he’d tease you about it a little though!…he’d most likely end up casting some sort of charm to make you shush up

G-Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

- NO!! absolutely not! This isn’t some kind of sick, twisted game to him! And he hates seeing you attempting to leave!! :(

H-Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

- I honestly think your worst experience with him would be when he first kidnapped I mean.. saved you!

I-Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

- He’d probably just want to be happy with you….forever and ever and ever and ever….

J-Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

- Harry is honestly a jealous behind! before he “saved” you he would see you talk to other boys and he’d complain to both Ron and Hermione..!

K-Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

- He’s really clingy and overprotective, you’d be sitting on the couch, relaxing a little and he would come along and just plop down with you! Too many hugs!

L-Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

- Ever since you both first met, you became friends, he obviously liked you…so he would do small, tiny things to get your attention..

M-Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

- Not really, he’s just a lot more touchy.! sorry this one’s short :(

N-Naughty: How would they punish their darling

- Nothing mean, he’d probably just scold you a little, if you still don’t listen..he’d smack you around a little bit (GENTLY…ish)

O-Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

- I think the main one is….the right to being alone!! Its gone! You can kiss it Bye bye!!

P-Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

-Harry tries to be patient, but sometimes you make it hard..! Why would you do that to him?? he just wants to make you happy!! :((

Q-Quit: If their darling leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

- i don’t think he could ever move on..he loves you!..but that’s ok because he has a trusty map that’ll always tell him where you are! (It’s his elite employee!! Hehe)

R-Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

- Whenever he sees you cry over it, his heart cracks a little and he tries to comfort you, but letting you go is a big no no :((

S-Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc.)?

-When he first met you, he was in the library, with Ron and Hermione, you asked if one of them could help you find a section of books, and you all became friends, over time Harry noticed how Professor Snape would yell at you, how people would laugh at you, he needed to get you away from those meanies!! >:(

T-Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

- as I said a little earlier, it would make him upset, he’d do his best to comfort you!!

U-Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

- Nothin much besides the fact he’s a wizard! 🤠 (yehaw!!) but in all seriousness, Not really, he’s on the gentle side though!

V-Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

- Honestly, I don’t think there is anything you can do, with all the magic, and the map :( although there’s a tiny chance Ron or Hermione would save you!

W-Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

- gently! He’d gently hurt you, he’d feel bad!..you made him do it anyways! :(

X- Xoanon How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

- Harry probably wouldn’t worship you, just love you!..a whoooleee lot :)

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

- maybe a few years of being one of your best friends

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

WHAT!? NO NEVER!!

Whooo yay that’s my first time ever writing on an app!! I’m so proud >:3 thank you sm for reading🫶 if you have any requests or tips on how to get better please tell me<33

#yandere harry potter #yandere headcannons #harry potter #yandere #writing #first writing

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1solone · 3 months

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This is probably going to tick some people off, and I hope it does. But I’m going to keep on sharing it and saying it. And once again, I am not a Swiftie, but I am a human being, a Dad AND, a Monstrous Football fan.

I am extremely disappointed in so many of you who think that "not being a fan" of someone means you're entitled to shit all over them.

I want to remind you of something.

Your children are watching you complain about Taylor Swift sitting at a football game, being happy, and cheering for a man she loves in what appears to be a very loving, respectful relationship.

Your Children are watching you judge a woman for literally just EXISTING and taking up space happily.

And you know what? Ms. Swift has won 324 awards? How many do you have?

She brought $5 BILLION dollars in consumer spending and boosted the U. S. economy so significantly, that leaders from other countries actually beg for her to play there?

Did you know that there are over 20 college courses about her skills as an artist, lyricist, and musician - including at places like Harvard, Stanford & UC Berkeley?

Did you know that Taylor Swift quietly donates mass amounts of money to local food banks in every city she performs in?

AND DID YOU KNOW …

That Taylor Swift was sexually assaulted by a radio DJ, and she got him fired? When he sued HER for over $3 million for defamation, she counter sued for a symbolic $1 in a court case that took 2 YEARS for her to win. And, she did that just to show women that fighting for what's right has no price tag & to never be silent in the face of oppression.

WELL IF YOU DON’T CARE BY NOW, YOU SHOULD.

Because your daughters, nieces, and your nephews are watching you run your mouth. And they are seeing the world hate a woman who does so much good, simply because she exists in their line of sight.

DO BETTER PEOPLE.

Teach your boys to respect women. Teach your girls that as women - they are ALLOWED to take up space.

Fix it. Become aware of your words. Because we all have the ability and the obligation to fight for the future of our children with simple moments. And we need to consciously choose to be better for them.

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miguelsfangservice · 7 months

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BEYOND THE SPOTLIGHT

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x F!Famous Idol Reader

Warnings: Negative and positive stereotypes about the industry (idk, probably later in the story), and not the best english lol (sorry in advance). Summary: It doesn't matter he's at HQ trying to keep the multiverse afloat, your face, your voice, your smile and laugh follows him everywhere. No, he is not loosing it (yet); it's just that its kind of inevitable when most spiders under his command are... how did Gwen called it? Ah-staning you? Well, he can't really complain, it's his girlfriend,after all.

“The first time you hear it it may seem shallow, but I’m telling you,bro,when you pay close attention it’s one of the best pieces of art depicting the oppression of individuals for expressing their sexuality, y’know what i mean.”

An awkward silence settled in the room before Pavitr and Miles let out some nervous chuckles.

“I thought it was a love story” Miguel's ears hurt just by hearing Pavitr retort with his mouth full of god knows what..

“...I’ve listened to it a couple of times and I have to agree with Pav.”

Before Hobie could open his mouth to reaffirm his earlier claim, Miguel slammed his fists on his desk.

“Do I need to remind all of you we are trying to have a serious discussion here?”

Silence. For at least a few seconds before Pavitr can’t resist anymore and turns to Hobie once more.

“What part of the song are you referring to, because I think-”

“It’s specially obvious at 1:30 when she sings-”

“Get out- If you’re not taking this problem seriously,OUT”

“ But I'm…” Miles tries to argue back, but at this point and with how exhausted Miguel is, he just doesn’t care about whatever they have to say.

“THE THREE OF YOU, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT”

While leaving his office, Hobie and Pavitr still have the absolute audacity to continue their discussion in hushed voices (mostly Pavitr, Hobie does not care if Miguel hears him”; Miles doesn’t speak again but Miguel can see him trying to hide his amusement.

If Miguel had eaten anything, if he had gotten enough sleep or, most importantly, if he had seen you at least once today, he miiiiiiiight’ve been in a better mood to confirm that yes, Hobie was right, it was kind of your intention to convey those themes in your last single.

He would know, he was there giving you feedback and taking care of you when you put your heart and soul into writing that song.

Also, even if he had the mood to discuss it with those kids, he wouldn’t try his luck and let them get suspicious enough for them to put everything together and figure out he’s been dating you for over a year now.

Miguel wouldn’t hear the end of it if any of the spiders knew about their huge and scary boss dating the “pop divinity”, the “fan´s delight”. Besides, it would get a lot harder for you to sneak into the HQ to spend some time together after your rehearsals or just when about every spider went home.

Although, he couldn't deny he was getting tired of keeping the relationship a secret; he hated hiding to every person he deemed close to him the fact that he wanted to spend the rest of his miserable (and probably very short) life with you.

But he knew you were not quite ready yet. Not until you were able to live with the fact that yes, your boyfriend is Spiderman, and he’s not only putting his life and sanity at risk in your universe, but also putting an unimaginable burden on his shoulders by trying to keep several other universes safe.

You already had a lot on your plate with the sudden burst of fame and all the work you were putting into creating your first solo album.

Sometimes, Miguel kinda wished you were still doing activities with your girl group, it put a lot less pressure on you and your health. But he felt guilty just for thinking about it.

This was your dream, having your own solo activities, showing the world your songs and what you were capable of. And he was so proud of you, so happy to see your face light up after you finished writing a song or when you learned a difficult choreography.

Miguel O’hara had the heart of steel to do a lot of harsh things, to take the decisions no one else wanted to take for the sake of hundreds of universes and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to see your sad face if he ever questioned what you were doing to achieve your dreams.

“Lyla, I'll be calling it a night. Got to get home.”

Just when he was about to exit, she appeared right in front of him with a huge magnifying glass in which he could see her eye getting bigger, examining him; Miguel grunted and tried to brush her off as if she was a bug

“This early? Who are you and what did you do with my boss? I’m gonna put the emergency lockdown if you don’t answer me right now-”

“I’m trying to recall at what point of your creation I made you this damn noisy.” he hissed, walking faster and then swinging away from her. “Besides, no te hagas tonta (don't act dumb), you know damn well where I’m going and with who.”

“And I appreciate the trust you put in me by telling me your secret–” she started saying, solemnly.

“We both know I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But, as your best friend and the one who knows you best–”

“Firstly, I don’t have a best friend and secondly, the one who knows me best is Y/N, not you!” Miguel interrupted and pointed a finger at her, trying to poke her, but his complaints were ignored as Lyla continued with her ramblings.

“I think I have enough authority in your life to give you some well needed love advice” Miguel couldn’t help but snort at the ‘authority’ affirmation.

At this point he decided to completely ignore her voice and focus on getting to your shared home; it had been a long day and all he wanted to do was bury his face in your shoulder and try to sleep with his girl by his side.

❃❃❃❃

A/N: Well, this is my first fanfic for the fandom. If you liked this, please, consider following, leaving a comment, like or reblog, I would really really appreciate it, specially cuz I'm not sure if anyone would like to read more about this.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #spiderman 2099

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softguarnere · 2 years

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Hiya lovely!! Could I please put in a self-indulgent request for a Lieb oneshot (or hcs, whichever you'd prefer!) where he always has to be close to or touching his S/O, whether in little ways or big? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

I have a personal headcanon that his main love language is Physical Touch so he's big on PDA & having his S/O close to him brings him a lot of comfort, whereas having them far away feels empty 😅

Thank you so much in advance!! 💖💖💖

Touch Me, Love Me, Can't Get Enough

(5 times during the war that Liebgott wants to hold you and 1 time after)

Joseph Liebgott x reader

A/N: Aly, bestie, the way that this request had me giggling and twirling my hair and kicking my feet the second I read it!!! I absolutely love this headcanon, and I'm so honored that you asked me to write it 🥹 I had waaayy too many ideas, so I decided to go with a 5 times +1 time fic for this one. I hope that you like this 💕🕊️ (As always, this is written for the fictional depiction from the show -- no disrespect to the real life veterans!)

Warnings: angst, discussions of concentration camps, depictions of war

It's one of those things that you don't notice until someone points it out. In this case, the someone is Sobel and pointing it out is him huffing that "Private Liebgott has no sense of personal space" when he passes the two of you heading back to barracks one night after coming back from a weekend pass. You're suddenly hyper-aware of the way that your arms bump into his every now and then as you walk due to your close proximity. You've both been drinking, though, so it's not like you really have all your cognitive functions about you; occasionally bumping into one another is like a tether making sure that neither of you falls over or wanders off. Sobel's criticism is easy to brush off.

Other people's comments? Not so much.

"It's hot as hell in here," Skip complains, using his sleeve to mop the sheen of sweat off his face. "Glad they're not takin' us to the Pacific; this heat is all I can stand."

Malarkey shoots a glare to someone passing by who jostles him as he slaps down his next card. "Speak for yourself."

"What? You tellin' me you like it this warm? Five minutes ago you were talkin' about how happy you'll be when we get off this boat."

"I meant them." Malarkey nods towards you and Liebgott. You both look up from your cards, confused. "I know that you guys have to constantly be touching each other or whatever, but how can you stand it when it's this hot?"

Constantly touching each other? What's that supposed to mean? You're just playing cards to pass the time while the boat chugs towards England, and you're sitting next to your friend . . . whose left arm is pressed up against your right. Sure, you could blame the closeness on the crowdedness of the boat, but Malarkey and Muck are sitting across from the two of you, and they have space between them.

At the same time that you start to lean away, Liebgott shifts beside you, wrapping his left arm around you and pulling you into his side. He fixes Malarkey with a cool look. "And what of it?"

You try to keep your expression cool as well, but you're having to concentrate on it. The oppressive heat from the boat is what's making it hard, you want to tell yourself, despite the fluttering feeling in your stomach at this close contact -- which is even closer than usual.

The Oregon boy shakes his head and slaps down another card. "Enjoy the heat stroke, I guess."

His point is proven, but Liebgott doesn't move his arm from around your shoulders. Instead, he smiles at you. Not his usual smirk that he throws around when he's pulled one over on someone; this smile is soft and warm.

Well, if you're going to help prove a point, you might as well commit to it. You smile back and lean further into his embrace.

"Flash!"

"Thunder!"

You lower your gun and squint through the darkness as a figure emerges from the bushes in front of you. If one good thing came out of all of those night marches that Sobel sent Easy Company on back in training, it's that you could recognize the silhouettes of your fellow soldiers in a heartbeat, even in the worst lighting. Your heart thrums when you realize who's coming towards you.

"Joey!" You really shouldn't put your gun down, not now that you're on the ground and in the midst of chaos, but you throw both arms around him. He does the same. He smells like the war -- that cologne that war produces that's a mixture of fuel from the C-47s, the sweat of excitement, and the faint smell of his shampoo that still lingers in his hair.

He melts into your touch. At some point between the boat ride and the news that you would be jumping into France, you two had decided to make it official, even though in some ways, you had always been a couple. Joe has been more open with the ways that he initiates physical contact with you since then. In a way, you can't really blame him; he comes from a big, affectionate family. Being away from their love and warmth has been harder for him than most people realize. It's like he craves physical touch. Good thing that you like his affection.

"Are you okay?" He whispers, still holding you tight.

"I'm fine. Are you?"

He nods. Reluctantly, he draws back from your embrace so that he can look at you. In sunlight, you love the way that his brown eyes turn into pools of amber honey. Now, in the darkness, they remind you of the new moon -- mysterious, but a comforting presence that never leaves you.

"There were some paratroopers back that way." You jerk your head slightly to the left. "Stuck up in trees. I was worried . . ."

"I know. Me too."

Off to your right, the sharp staccatos of machine gun fire pierce the night. On instinct, you both ready your guns and crouch down.

"We gotta move," Joe whispers. Then you both push through the darkness and into the bushes that he had stepped out of moments before.

He leads the way, but moves slowly, keeping you close. It’s like that the rest of the day, too, after you link up with other people from E Company and finally find where you’re supposed to be. It’s subtle, but Joe bumps his shoulder against yours throughout the day, like he’s got to remind himself that you’re near. That, coupled with the glances that he casts your way when no one else is looking, is enough to make your heart clench.

That’s the thing about Joe Liebgott – he’s great at physical affection and showing you that he wants it, but words don’t come as easily to him, and telling you what he wants and needs is an entirely different matter. You’ve always wondered if maybe a past lover scorned his verbal affections, because he seems so unsure of himself whenever he uses his words, which is so unlike the cocky, confident Liebgott that everyone else knows.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you finally have a moment alone.

Joe immediately holds out his hand to you. When you take it, he intertwines your fingers and squeezes. He starts to shrug, but when he catches the look on your face, a crease appears between his eyebrows as he thinks. “I just wanna keep you close.”

“I’m right here.”

“I know. It just feels like if I can hold onto you . . . then nothing will happen.”

A memory of fellow paratroopers and their parachutes all tangled in the trees earlier that morning hits you. You had worried that Joe might be one of them, and he had worried for you as well. War is an uncertain and fickle thing. Anything can happen to anyone. You had accepted that fact when you joined the airborne division. Sure, you would do anything to keep Joe safe, and he would do the same for you. Having him by your side is a comfort, and you know he feels the same way.

Anything can happen in a war zone. But if anyone is stubborn enough to stop anything from going wrong, it just might be Joe Liebgott.

III

Nothing is guaranteed in a place like Bastogne. Least of all who you get to share a foxhole with. Most of the time your foxhole partner ends up being whoever was in the nearest one when a fresh round of shellings begins and you need a place to hide. You spend many nights curled up against your fellow soldiers for warmth, leaving the next morning knowing more about them than you ever had before.

If you had it your way, you would be sharing with Joe, to make sure that he’s alright. But as it is, you really only see him occasionally when you get to line up for warm food – a commodity that’s becoming more and more rare as the quality of it gets worse and worse. Sitting with the rest of Easy, he’s subtle, knocking his knees into yours whenever he sits beside you, or even kicking the side of your boot with the toe of his; anything to establish contact. There’s hardly any time to talk, but the longing in his eyes is obvious enough.

If you knew that you wouldn’t get in trouble, you would hold his hand, or wrap him up in your arms. Being away from him is hard for you, so you can only imagine what it must feel like for him.

“Funny, I always thought that hell would be hot. It’s a little colder than I pictured,” a familiar voice says as Joe drops down into the foxhole beside you. He winks. “Hiya, sweetheart. This foxhole taken?”

There’s no use in trying to hide your smile. “I don’t know. Usually I require a reservation, but for someone so handsome, I think that I can make an exception.”

“Come here.” He lifts his arm and throws it around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you open your blanket and throw part of it over his legs before all the heat can escape you. The helmets you both wear cause some difficulty, but he rests his head against yours as best he can. He sighs. “I’ve missed you so much, (Y/N).”

You plant a small kiss on his cheek. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“God,” he groans. “I swear it’s killin’ me, being away from you.”

A joke he once made at the start of your relationship flashes across your mind. If you move out to Frisco with me after the war, I’ll have to invest in a better air conditioner, you keep me so warm.

“Why?” You tease. “Do you miss having your own personal radiator?”

A cloud of condensation forms as he huffs a laugh, his warm breath fogging the cold air. “You remember that?” He smiles when you nod. Pressing your helmets together again, he shakes his head a little. “No. I just miss holding you.”

You lean further into his side. “Well then hold on a little tighter. We gotta make this last before the next shelling starts.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “We always make it count.”

“Oh thank Christ, look who’s back!” Luz exclaims when you walk into CP.

“We saw each other earlier, Luz,” Webster laughs.

“Not you.” Luz smiles at you, either not noticing or not caring about how it makes Webster’s smile falter. “(Y/N)! They finally let you outta the hospital?”

You smile as you drop your bag onto a nearby chair. “Something like that.” You lower your voice to a stage whisper, offering the radioman a wink. “Had to go AWOL. Don’t let any of the medics know.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He winks right back.

From the couch, Sergeant Lipton coughs. He offers you a smile when he catches his breath. “It’s good to have you back, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, Sergeant.”

“Yeah, maybe now things won’t be so depressing around here.”

“Awe, Luz, you really think I liven things up that much?”

Lipton reaches up and smacks George with his stack of paperwork. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear that he’s said something that he shouldn’t have.

“What?” Luz asks. “It’s not like she wouldn’t know.” When you offer him nothing but a confused look, he shakes his head. “Liebgott’s been all weird since you got taken to the hospital back in Foy.”

“Weird how?”

“Oh, you know: moodier than usual, distant, quiet, quick to anger.”

“So just regular Liebgott then?” Webster asks.

George shakes his head. “Like, if someone tried to draw him from memory or something, I don’t know. He’s just not himself.”

“Well, where is he?” You and Webster are supposed to be waiting for someone to tell you which platoon to join, but you’ve already made up your mind that you’ll be damned if you don’t join your old one. This far into the war, it’s unlikely that anyone would really care if you just walked back in and took up your former place, but still – red tape, and all that. But now the thought is even more tempting. What’s wrong with Joseph? You want to find him.

Lipton offers a vague wave of his hand. “Around here somewhere. Listen, (Y/N), why don’t you join back up with your old platoon? I’m sure they’ll be glad to have you back.”

“And I’ll be glad to be back.” You nod your appreciation and then grab your bag, trying not to leave the room too quickly. During your time in the hospital, all you thought about was getting back to Easy Company, and back to Joe. Now that he’s so close, it makes you feel a little giddy and a little nervous, knowing that in a few seconds, you’ll be together again.

In the hallway, you go to turn a corner and nearly smack into someone coming towards you. They reach out and grab your elbows to steady you. “Are you okay?” Babe asks when you’ve regained your balance. His eyes light up as he takes you in. “(Y/N)! You’re back!”

“What?” A voice from further down the hallway calls. A few of the other Easy boys step into view, and quickly engulf you in a warm cloud of welcome backs and good natured handshakes. All except for one, who hangs back.

You catch Joe’s eye through the crowd. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost; he’s still, staring at you like you might disappear if he blinks. When you finish shaking Tab’s hand, you step towards him and it’s like a spell breaks. In a few quick strides he’s in front of you, and then suddenly his hands have come up to caress your cheeks as he takes you in.

“You went AWOL,” he guesses.

“I had to get back to my company,” you say. You throw your arms around him and squeeze him into a hug, whispering into his ear, “I had to get back to you.” He squeezes you tighter.

“I don’t wanna let you go again,” he whispers. You hear him draw a breath, like he’s going to say more, but he stops himself and rubs his hand up and down your back.

Behind you, you hear some of the boys quietly make their exit from the scene. (Most of them, anyway. You can hear Talbert telling Shifty that he owes him a dollar, and Babe is muttering to someone that he knew it – you don’t have to guess what it is.)

Joe doesn’t seem to mind. He’s always been open in his affections for you in the little ways in public, like bumping into you, and this very open gesture isn’t technically very different since it serves to confirm what most people already suspected . . . as well as telling some of the ones who didn’t to back off.

Still, it’s a little unlike him. Something has changed.

You card your hand through the back of his hair. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just missed you is all.” He huffs a small laugh as he pulls back from the embrace, casting a smirk over your shoulder. “And giving the others something to talk about ain’t half bad.” You swat his arm affectionately, but there’s no malice in it. This is just how Joe is when it comes to voicing how he feels; giving you a bit of his feelings and then deflecting before he can be scorned. You want to show him that you appreciate the effort.

You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. When you start to pull away, his gentle fingers catch your chin and bring you back into his orbit, pressing a quick, soft kiss to your lips.

As if he can read your thoughts, he assures you, “I’m okay. Better, now that you’re here.”

Hot, salty tears have been burning your eyes for the better part of the afternoon as you fight to keep them back. Back before the war, your teacher used to make you do breathing exercises in school in the mornings. You try to remember them now as you gasp for air, trying to look calm as you head back towards the town, following the trucks carrying to men back to CP or to where they’re billeted.

“(Y/L/N)!” Someone calls up ahead. In the back of one of the trucks, Nixon leans down, holding out his hand and motioning for you to hurry.

Despite how sluggish and out of breath you feel, you increase your pace to a slight jog, catch Nixon’s hand, and swing yourself up into the back of the truck, taking a seat beside him. His hand pats your shoulder but then stays there, like a tether that helps bring you back down to earth.

“Are you okay?”

You shake your head. You don’t want to cry in the back of this truck. There’s no shame in it, but the afternoon has been so hectic that you would rather have a moment alone to unpack the horrors of what you’ve just seen.

“It’s just as bad down the road at the women’s camp,” you tell the intelligence officer over the roar of the engine. Even just thinking about it causes you to shudder.

Nixon pats your shoulder again. “Do you need anything?”

“Where’s Liebgott?” You want to be held. You want someone to comfort you and tell you that this has all been a bad dream. You want that someone to be Joseph.

A deep frown settles on Nixon’s face. “We sent him back already. He . . . needed some time alone.” He thinks for a minute, then says over the sound of the trucks, “You should go to him, (Y/N). He needs you.”

And you, him.

When you got back to Haguenau, during a moment alone, Joe had opened up a little more than usual. It had been late at night, lying beside each other on one of the small bunks. Something about the cover of night makes it easier to whisper your secrets, and it’s especially true of Liebogtt. In the quiet of the room, his arm around you, he had said that he felt like one of the ruined Haguenau buildings while you were away in the hospital. “A skeleton,” he had described them. “They’re all crumbled and half-alive. I don’t know if that makes sense. That’s what it felt like with you away; like I’m something only half here, half a memory. Unstable. Lonely.”

That’s what you feel like now. The horrible things you saw have confirmed any thought you ever had about pure evil existing in the world. Anger starts to burn in your chest like an ember; this is why you’re fighting in the war. And if that’s how you feel . . . You need to find Joe. Now.

It’s tempting to run to the house where he’s billeted, but you don’t want to make a scene. You walk as fast as you can, only breaking into a run once you’re inside, sprinting up the stairs.

“Joe?” He’s lying on the bed, his back to the door. He goes still when he hears you come in.

Shutting the door behind you, you press further into the room until you’re standing over the bed. “Can I sit?”

When you take a seat, he pushes himself up and turns to face you. Red rimmed eyes and wet cheeks tell you that he feels the same way that you do about what you saw. The tears you’ve been trying to hold back all afternoon finally spill over, but your ignore them and bring your hand up to Joe’s cheek, using your thumb to brush away his tears.

He brings up his own hand to rest on top of yours. “You saw it too?”

You nod. “I had to spend the afternoon at the women’s camp down the road.”

Joe leans forward, pressing your foreheads together. “Did you have to tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

“That they had to stay in the camp.” Anger bleeds into his sadness as he says it. He sounds disgusted and hurt.

Almost none of the women prisoners you had encountered spoke any English. You and another female paratrooper had had to attempt to communicate with them using scattered English and a few German and Yiddish words that you had learned from Joe throughout the war. Joe is fluent in both of those languages. He probably had an easier time talking to –

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut: he had to tell them that they would be staying in the camp.

“Oh, Joey.” You throw your arms around him, pulling him in closer. Your earlier thoughts of wanting him to hold you feel almost selfish now, when he so clearly needs it. Carefully, you card a hand through the back of his hair. You desperately wish that you could do something to help him, but what is there to do in a situation like this? “What can I do?”

He gasps, harsh and wet sounding, and you wonder if he also held back his tears all afternoon. “Just hold me.”

That, you can do.

+ I

Joe is either a night owl or an early bird. There’s not really an in between. Some nights he falls into bed early, and then quietly gets up and takes his leave in the morning, ready to help usher the other early risers of San Francisco to work. Some nights he stays up late, wandering the apartment and smoking on the balcony until you wake up to find the bed empty, and then keep him company.

The nights when he heads to bed early are your favorites. You’re not sure when you started to notice it, but at some point you learned that, no matter how deeply asleep Joe seems to be, if you come to bed after him, he immediately rolls over and throws out an arm, searching for you across the expanse of bed. Once he finds you, he pulls you close to him, wrapping an arm around your waist and nestling his head on your shoulder. You’re not sure if he knows he does it or not. It might just be something that his subconscious automatically does. It might be a conscious choice. Either way, it’s sweet, and you don’t bring it up for fear that he might stop.

He's also taken to muttering in his sleep, which is a more recent development – he never did it during the war, that you’re aware of, but now you sometimes catch broken sentences and soft I love yous thrown out while he searches for you in the bed.

Tonight is no different. As soon as you slide under the blankets, you feel him roll over, and a second later, his arm is wrapped around you and he’s very close. You run a hand through his hair as you settle in, and his deep, even breathing momentarily hitches in his throat. His arm squeezes you tighter.

“You always hold me so close,” you giggle, watching his sleeping face. He likes to hold onto you, to have you near, and it must say something that he prefers it, even when he’s unconscious. A piece of hair has flopped across his brow, and you gently push it back so that you can see him better. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. Not worried about anything at all.

Suddenly, you remember something he said back during the war. I don’t wanna let you go again. “Don’t worry,” you whisper, just in case he can hear you. “I’m not gonna slip away.”

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