#every walk is a scavenger hunt if you want it to be

[sometimesanalice]

What’s In a Name?

Summary: Bradley really loves the way you say his name. At the grocery store. At the bar. In his bed.

Warnings: fuff, and so much smut. Minors DNI

Length: 9K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(This is a one-shot for my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

Bradley loved hearing you say his name. 

He’d gone almost two years without hearing it. Back when he was ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ to you. Back when you weren’t sure how you would fit into the life he had built in San Diego when you had moved there for a promotion. Now he made it a priority to show you just how seamlessly your lives fit together, to remind you just how right you were for each other.

There were times when he still couldn’t believe that he was able to have you so entirely. You went from being just his closest childhood friend to being his everything. And now that he had you there was nothing he liked more than the sound of his name coming from your lips. 

He loved hearing it every chance he could. 

He’d never come so hard has he had the first time he’d heard you chanting his name over and over again as he’d fucked you in his bed. Your hair had been a riot on his pillow, your lips swollen from the attention he’d given them with his own. He’d just barely gotten you over the edge before he’d followed, so overwhelmed by your sweet voice so needy and breathy in his ear.

BradleyBradleyBradley

He had even changed his contact information in your phone from ‘Rooster’ to ‘Bradley’ one lazy Sunday afternoon when you had been dozing on his chest, adding a little sparkly heart next to it for good measure. In general, he wasn’t much of an emoji user, but he thought you might find it cute when you discovered it. He was very pleased with himself months later when he realized you’d never changed it back, pink sparkly heart and all.

He loved hearing you say his name at the grocery store. 

He had gone off to find his favorite brand of protein powder, the store had recently rearranged their health food section and he could never remember where it was stocked. He didn’t want to drag you around on the scavenger hunt, especially when he knew you’d rather be doing anything else than grocery shopping.

Once he had it, he’d tried a few different aisles before finding you standing near the baking things and spices, he would have recognized your curves in those jeans anywhere.

You were chatting away with an elderly woman like you were a pair of old friends. It didn’t surprise him, since you’d always been the type that strangers had gravitated towards, your warm energy apparent to who crossed paths with you.

Walking up to you, he put the powder in the cart with the items you had accumulated while he had been wandering the same three aisles over and over again before he found what he was looking for near the bottom shelf.

“Bradley!” you greeted turning towards him beaming, your smile pure sunshine, before cheerily spinning back to the older woman, “See, I knew he’d find us eventually.”

“And he’s just as handsome as you said,” your new friend replied, giving him the once over.

“Yes, he is. Very handsome and very tall,” you told her with a teasing lilt in your tone, glancing back over your shoulder to send him a wink.

He’d happily be objectified by anyone you wanted, including elderly women wearing fuzzy purple sweaters, just as long as it meant you were bragging about him to them. That they knew he was yours, and you were his.

“How can me and my six-foot-two-inch self be of assistance to you ladies?” he asked, putting on his most winning smile. It couldn’t be said that he wouldn’t commit to a bit when the opportunity was presented.

“Can you reach Ruth a couple of those containers of Hungarian paprika, please?” you asked him while pointing to the red and green tins on the top shelf.

He was glad you had waited for him. They were so pushed back that there’s no way you would have been able to reach them on your own without climbing on the bottom shelf for a boost. 

Safety first and all that, but also, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see the way your shirt would have ridden up your back. The dimples at the base of your spine were for his eyes only.

“Of course, I am at your service,” he pressed a quick kiss to your temple before stepping around the cart to grab the spice for the older woman. 

“Oh, and then maybe one for us too, Bradley. I’ve never tried making Hungarian Goulash before. You’ve made it sound so good, that now I think I have to.”

“If you want to make it, mine is the number one reviewed recipe for the dish on AllRecipes,” Ruth boasted, there was no hiding the pride in her voice. 

He hands Ruth the tins he had grabbed, and passes the other one to you to add to the collection in the shopping cart. 

“But what I left out is that I always use this specific brand of paprika, and that I make mine with half pork and half beef. I save that tidbit for friends and family, I couldn’t just give all of my secrets away to the internet people.” 

That had you laughing, “So sneaky, I love it! Thank you for sharing your secrets with us. Sounds like we know what we’re having for dinner tonight.” 

You were already opening pulling the recipe up on your phone for later. 

“I’m looking forward to it, especially since we know the tricks of the trade now.”

His eyes catch on the overflowing hand basket resting near the older woman’s worn Birkenstock mules. It looked heavy, almost like she didn’t originally plan on getting as many things as she ended up with.

“Can I carry that for you? Or if you have more shopping to do, I would be happy to go and get a cart for you,” he asks, gesturing to her overloaded basket.

“Oh no, those were the last things on my list,” Ruth replies, waving off his offer, “My youngest daughter is having her 50th birthday and the whole family is having a get together. I thought doubling my recipe would be fine, but I decided last minute to triple it.” 

She bends down to reach for it, but he beats her to it. His mom raised him right.

“No, ma’am, I insist.” He’s pretty sure he catches you checking out his ass when he stands back up, “I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Stay out of trouble.” 

He holds out his other arm for Ruth to take so he can escort her to the front of the store to pay.

“I don’t find trouble, it always seems to find me,” you joked.

“I believe that,” chimes Ruth.

He turns back to get a look at you, and sees you bringing your hand up to your forehead to mimic a full swoon.

He just smiles and shakes his head at you and your antics. Such a brat.

He helps Ruth at the check-out unloading the basket onto the conveyer belt, and then carries her packed grocery bags to her car getting them settled in her trunk. 

Once they’ve parted ways, he heads back inside to find you.

You’re standing in front of the cooler with all the dips and fresh salsas, your head cocked to the side as you deliberate your choices.

What he also notices as he makes his way to you is that you’ve caught the attention of another man, one who should be paying more attention to his bagged lettuce instead of eyeing his girlfriend. 

Sneaking up behind you, he wraps his arms around your middle lifting you up off the ground.

“Bradley! Oh my god, seriously?” He can’t help but laugh at how startled you are, he’s pretty sure if you were wearing pearls you’d be clutching them right now. 

��Here I thought you were a gentleman, helping sweet Ruth with her groceries. It’s rude to sneak up on innocent and unsuspecting women,” you protest trying to twist out of his arms once he has set you back down.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” he settles his hands on your hips pulling you back to his chest, letting his fingers slide through your belt loops, before lowering his voice, “Unsuspecting, maybe. But innocent? There wasn’t anything innocent the blowjob you gave me in the Bronco outside the Hard Deck last night.”

He knows the shiver that goes through your body isn’t from the cold case you are both standing in front of.

Looking over to his left, he sees the man who was checking you out putting down the bag of spinach in his hands. And he is hit with a feeling of smug satisfaction watching as the guy quickly wheels his empty cart out of the section completely.

“No getting handsy by the hummus, Bradley,” you tut, still set on giving him the cold shoulder, but the way you lean back against him gives you away, “Should we get that lemon beet kind again?” 

“Whatever you want, kid,” he murmured against your neck. “Plus, the word on the street is that you think I’m handsome, so that’s got to count for something.”

When you pull away from him this time, he lets you go. Getting a glimpse of the skin above the top of your jeans as you reach up to grab the square container of hummus.

You set it in the cart looking back at him as you toss your hair over your shoulder, before primly stating, “Oh, and Bradley, if you’re going to quote me I do believe I said you were very handsome.” 

And with that final word, you push off with the cart meandering to towards the fruit section, the sensual sway of your hips he knows is just for him.

He especially loved the way your voice sounded when you’d just woken up, when his name was one of the first words out of your mouth to start a new day.

There was nothing Bradley liked better than the nights you spent together in the same bed. It didn’t matter if it was his place or yours, just as long as he was able to wake up to find you warm and tucked away under his arm. 

“G’morning Bradley,” you’d whisper, voice soft and sleepy, a little raspy from disuse, as you turned to nestle closer burrowing your face in his neck.  He knew you liked a gentle wake up, and he was more than happy to trail his fingers along your back until you woke up a bit more. 

He was always up before you, his internal alarm clock permanently altered from his time in the Navy. For as much as you claimed to be a morning person, you were always the one snoozing yours in favor for spending a few more minutes in bed. It wasn’t something he’d ever expected to learn about you, and he liked being the one who got to share those intimately domestic moments with you.

The only surefire way to get you out of bed and moving on those mornings was the suggestion of hot coffee-- that or the promise of his mouth. 

He loved the way you said his name when you were surprised. 

When he’d gone to that furniture store you liked, his only plans were to find a new larger dresser for his bedroom. He had claimed he needed more space for his stuff, but really, he wanted there to be more room for you to keep your things at his place.

The home stylist at the store not only helped him pick out a new dresser he thought you’d approve of, but also convinced him to also purchase the matching king-sized canopy bed frame and set of nightstands. 

He was told the mood was “cozy mid-century chic”, whatever that meant.

Bradley knows he runs hot, you’ve told him enough times that he’s like a furnace. So when the stylist showed him the cloudlike and breathable comforter along with the 800-thread count white cotton sheets, he had them add that to his collection too.

You still wouldn’t move in with him, but he was working on it. He knew he’d reel you in soon enough. And if it took a payment plan, so be it. 

Although, he could only blame himself for the new lamps and giant rug he also purchased. He’d gotten a little swept up in the salesperson’s enthusiasm. 

Hopefully that guy got commission, he deserved every dollar. 

It had hurt a bit when he swiped his credit card, but it was worth it to hear the way you said his name when you saw it all for the first time after it had been delivered and assembled.

“Oh my god, Bradley!” you laughed, “I thought you said you were just getting a new dresser. Did you buy the whole store?” 

“What can I say? The salesperson was very good at his job, sweet girl,” he was trying to not let his leg bounce as he waited for you to say more. A little nervous now that he’d gone overboard and missed the mark, “Do you like it?”

“It’s absolutely perfect, Bradley,” you gushed as you slowly made your way around the room taking it all in. “It’s warm, it’s classic, it’s cozy. It feels like you. You’re going to have a hard time getting me to leave now, I love it in here.”

That was all he wanted.

He felt all the tension leave his body, grinning as he watched you sit down on the bed running your hand over the soft deep green duvet. It had become his favorite color the second he’d seen you in that green dress the night at the seaside restaurant when he’d told you how he felt about you.

“So, do you want to help me break it in?” he asked, pushing off from where he had been leaning against the doorframe and sauntered towards you. 

The way you slowly reclined back on the bed, your lips turned up in a mischievous smile was an answer in itself. 

He loved the sound of you saying his name at the Hard Deck.

Your voice was so familiar to him that he could pick it out anywhere. He was so attuned to the way you said his name that he could be in a conversation with someone in the noisy bar, but his ears would perk up if you said his name in a passing comment. 

It was like he was hearing his friends talk with one ear, while the other was always listening for you.

He could be with Mav catching up and chatting about the new plane he was working on, until:

“Yeah, I could use another one, let me see if Bradley needs one really quick and then I’ll go up with you.”

And then he would find himself standing next to you at the bar. 

He could be playing around of nine-ball with Hangman, until:

“No, you’re kidding me! There’s no way you caught Coyote doing that, has Bradley heard this one before? Oh my god, you have to tell him.”

And then he would find himself abandoning his cue on the pool table. 

“What the fuck, Bradshaw? You can’t just quit because I’m kicking your ass,” Jake would shout at him as he made his way towards you.

After all, you’d said his name and now he was curious.

He could be at the jukebox trying to find something better to put on than whatever terrible song Fanboy had picked, until:

“Oh! Bradley knows how to play that one, let’s see if we can bribe him to go perform it. I doubt we’ll have to try very hard, he’s such a little show off.”

And then he would find himself seated at the piano.

To everyone else he was ‘Rooster’, ‘Bradshaw’, ‘Lieutenant’, and soon to be ‘Lieutenant Commander’. 

To you he was Bradley. 

Seeing Bradley seated at the piano was a normal sight for you.

Since being permanently stationed in San Diego, he’d had all of the things from his storage locker shipped over, including his Dad’s old upright. He liked to play in the evening to decompress after his day and you liked to watch.

There was something about the way his large fingers moved over the keys so gracefully that was always so mesmerizing to you.

You still remembered how embarrassed he would get all those times when your moms would beg him to put on an impromptu piano recital. Usually fueled by a couple too many glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, you realized later on. 

Your mom and Carole had definitely been the “Wine Moms” at the baseball and tennis games they’d sat through in support of you and Bradley.

He would get a little sulky in the way that all self-conscious teens got, but he could never hold out for very long before pulling out the wooden piano bench. Bradley wasn’t one to purposefully disappoint his mom, their relationship special in the way that only a single parent and an only child could understand.

Once he realized it was a good way to get noticed by the girls in high school, he’d been quick to change his tune. And now it was clear he reveled the attention it got him when he sat down and started tapping out a carefree riff before launching into a song, all preening posturing and smug smiles.

You were usually right next to Bradley when he put on a show, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, always one to want a front row seat to see him in action.

Tonight the bar was a bit more packed than usual. It took a little longer to move around, and a little longer for Penny to make your drink since you had opted for something slightly more complicated than a beer.

Slowly, but surely, you wove your way through the crowd. Careful to avoid any stray elbows to avoid jostling your full drink as you made your way back to your friends where they were gathered around the ancient upright. You were nearly there when a burly man stepped around you, giving you a clear view of Bradley playing. 

And you were stopped short by the picture in front of you.

The performance he was currently putting on at the Hard Deck was different than anything he did at his own home. His leg bouncing in tempo as he shimmied perched on the piano bench, like it’s a struggle for him to be contained to one spot.

He was captivating in the way that he commanded the room. 

Maybe it was the way the way the muscles of his forearms were flexing as his fingers were precisely flying over the discolored keys.

Maybe it was the way the light sheen of sweat was collecting in the hollow of his collarbone.

Or maybe it was the way the veins were standing out against his neck, the way the thick tendon that ran along his throat had you transfixed as he threw his head back to sing at the top of his lungs. 

His sunglasses were sliding down his nose as his head bobbed between glancing down at his hands and scanning the room. He smiled when his eyes found yours over the top of his aviators. Your hand tightened around the glass in your hand, the condensation dripping down your wrist as you stood there and watched. 

You weren’t sure if it was your imagination or the tequila you’d been sipping on all night, but it seemed like he was working the keys of the piano a little harder, a little faster as he held your gaze. 

And then his tongue was slipping out. Just a bit, and just for you.

Thankfully no one could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat over the sound of everyone in the bar singing along. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on. 

The intensity of Bradley’s heated gaze, the way his body was moving, the way you wanted to crawl in his lap and lick the taut line of his neck and taste the salt of his skin right there in front of everyone.

You probably looked as desperate as you were feeling, because his easygoing smile turned more knowing every second your eyes stayed locked.  

“I’ll be right back,” you said to no one in particular as you abandoned your spicy margarita on the nearest surface to make your escape.

You felt like you were about to vibrate out of your skin.

It was easier to slipping away to the bathroom than had been trying to reach Bradley in front of the stage, needing a moment to yourself out of his heady orbit.

Locking the door behind you, you lean against the worn wood that was littered with stickers that had been collected and brought back from around the world. You try breathing in and out a few times, the way you’ve learned to do at your expensive yoga classes, in an attempt to slow down the rapid pounding in your chest. Actively trying to not think about the way he looked at you.

There was no question in your mind that you suffered from an incurable Bradley kink. Now that you could let yourself revel in all sorts of unfriendly thoughts about him, everything he did was a turn on for you.

You had a sneaking suspicion that he might have one too. His eyes always a got a bit more heated, and his hands would grip you a little tighter when you said it. 

You knew that if you were to slip your fingers past the waistband of the dainty lace underwear you had just bought that you would find yourself wet. 

And for a moment, you’re tempted to do just that. To let your fingers skim up your thigh, along the scalloped edge of the panties you’d bought specifically with Bradley in mind, to think of him as you slide your fingers inside of yourself. 

You’re feeling so high-strung that you know it wouldn’t take long to come. It wouldn’t be the first time you would have used the bathroom at the Hard Deck to get off.

Your hand is halfway under your sundress, when you hear the chanting:

Roo-ster! Roo-ster! Roo-ster!

In your mind’s eye, you can picture him standing behind the piano doing his version of a touchdown dance. 

You’ve teased him about it before, calling him a “slutty little songbird”, which he didn’t deny. He thrives off the attention, and you can’t say you mind watching him do that sexy little shimmy he is so fond of. 

You also don’t mind helping him find other ways to work off the post-performance high.

Knowing that he will probably be looking for you now that he’s done, you smooth down the skirt of your dress with shaky hands and make your way to the sink.

Standing in front of the dingy mirror, you can see just how much a wreck your appearance actually is. Your cheeks look warm, your lips are slightly swollen from Penny’s special spicy margarita mix, and your eyes have that certain wild gleam in them that only Bradley brings out in you.

You turn the cold tap on, and stick your wrists under the running water. Hoping the cool water on your pulse points will help ease the heat that is spreading under your skin.

While the chanting has stopped now, you can still hear the lively sounds of the packed bar. Figuring it’s alright to leave the safe confines of the tiny bathroom, you turn off the water and dry your hands, determined to not let anyone see just how riled up you were.

You’re barely five steps outside of the bathroom, when a strong arm wraps around your waist.

“Hey, kid.”

And just like that your heart is racing out of control again. His woodsy smell paired with the faint hit of sweat has your brain going fuzzy. 

“You doin’ ok?” he rasps against the shell of your ear. He has you pulled against his warm, broad chest and you can feel the echoes of his question reverberate throughout your whole body.

You pull out of his grasp to turn and face him, taking a small step backwards towards the wall.

“Uh-huh, yeah. Everything is fine,” you ramble, nodding your head as you try to avoid looking in his honey brown eyes.

“You sure about that?” he asks taking a step towards you, which has you retreating another one back. “Thought I should check on you since you disappeared there for a bit.”

“Just you know,” you trail off briefly glancing at him and gesturing pathetically towards the bathroom like that explains your clearly unusual behavior. 

“Mm-hmm, sure,” he allows, his head tilting to the side as he observes you. 

You know the exact moment when he realizes what’s going on by the way his cheek twitches as he tries to control the wolfish smile he is fighting back. And you’re suddenly feeling very much like his prey when he presses forward again. This time when you step back you feel the wall against your back as he crowds into your space.

“We should probably go back,” you stutter out when he cages you in with one hand above your head.

“Maybe,” he muses, tracing his thumb along your lower lip, “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s got you so ruffled?”

The way he is looking at you, the way he feels against you, it’s all too much.

“Bradley.” 

You don’t know what you were trying to sound like when you said his name, but there’s no missing the neediness in your voice.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. He takes your hand in his, guiding you to his zipper, letting you feel him through his jeans. “You got me all worked up too, sweet girl.” 

The sound you make is lands somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he has you leading the way up to the bar, using your body to hide his hard on as he pays. Not even bothering to wave goodbye to your group of friends as he hustles you to the Bronco. 

He definitely broke the speed limit and a couple minor traffic laws on the drive back trying to get you home to his place.

You had looked so flushed when he had been pounding away at the keys of the upright at the Hard Deck, and you had dashed away abandoning your freshly made drink. He might have sped up the tempo to wrap it up faster so that he could check on you, worried for a moment that you might have caught a bug or food poisoning or something. 

That was until he caught you outside of the bathroom, and saw just how flustered you’d been and he knew.

It took everything in him not to push you back into the tiny bathroom and have his way with you right then and there. He was hit with an image bending you over the sink, and showing you just how good you looked coming around his cock.

However, a hot and dirty quickie at the Hard Deck wouldn’t have been enough for him.

He knew exactly how he wanted you: flustered, flushed, and thoroughly fucked.

So yeah, he floored the gas pedal needing to feel your body under his as soon as possible.  And it didn’t hurt that it probably cleared out some of the engine build up in the Bronco along the way either. 

He pressed you against the door the second you’d gotten inside, letting you rock your hips against his thigh as he sucked along the curve of your collarbone. Your hands coming up to tug at the curls at the top of his head.

“U-upstairs,” you gasp when he grazes his teeth along the swell of your breast.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. 

He lifts you up, and your legs wrap around him immediately. It had taken all of his will power not to slip his hands up your frilly dress at the Hard Deck. He loved any chance to he got to get his hands on your ass.

He almost misses the first step going up the stairs when you drag your hot mouth along his neck.

“Wait, wait,” you pant in his ear, “Put me down.” 

“It’s fine, I got you,” he promises as he tightens his grip on you.

You pull away and shake your head at him, “I don’t want either of us to end up in the Emergency Room for a sex related accident. Could you imagine? Jake would never let us live it down, and Nat would be worse.”

“It’d be worth it though,” he winks at you.

“You say that now, until you’re stuck in a neck brace unable to fly or have sex,” you admonish jokingly, stroking the side of his throat with the scars he earned from that night at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party.

“Yeah, but you could still ride me. The way I see it, it’s a win-win either way,” he chuckles at the exasperated way you roll your eyes.

“You’re handsome, but I don’t think even you could pull off the color of those hospital gowns,” you quip with a quick peck to his lips, “Now, hands off the goods.”

Giving your ass one more squeeze, he lets you slide down his body. He may not have his hands on you anymore, but it doesn’t stop him from admiring your figure as you bound up the stairs in front of him. 

He stops short at the threshold of his bedroom at the sight of you pulling your dress over your head. Of all your soft skin on display for him.

There were times he still couldn’t believe he got to have you like this.

How did he think it could have ever just been a friendship with you?

He liked how comfortable you were in this space with him, liked how perfectly your things fit in with his. 

He liked knowing that one of the pillows on the bed smelled like you.

He liked knowing that if he went in the bathroom he would find your expensive shampoo and conditioner in there next to his. 

He liked knowing that if he opened the drawer on one of the nightstands that he would find your lip balm, your lavender lotion, a vibrator from your place that had found a home here, and a notebook and pen in case you needed to remember to do something because you didn’t like having your phone in bed.

What he currently liked most about his bedroom was the way your dress was decorating the floor, and the way you were kneeling on his bed like a vision.

You were wearing a matching pale pink lace set he’d never seen before. Your skin was peeking through the floral embroidery of the sheer mesh in an all too enticing way.

You were his sweet girl.

“Come here,” you beckon, inching closer to the edge of the wooden canopy bed. 

He’s not one to deny you, he’d willingly go wherever you wanted. He saunters in towards you slowly, putting on a bit of a show for you as he comes to stand before you.

“I like this, it’s pretty,” he hums as he runs his knuckles slowly over the edge of the embroidered cups, enjoying the way you lean further into him. 

Cupping your jaw, he pulls you forward for a lingering kiss. Being this close to you, the smell of your musky floral perfume is intensifying thumping of his pulse. 

Your hands slide under his Hawaiian print shirt, helping to ease it off his body and then tossing it somewhere near your dress. You ruck the tank he has underneath up his chest and he reaches down to pull it over his head as your hands run over the ridges of his abs.

His body has been humming for yours since the bar. The hurried encounter at the door barely managed to take any of the edge off, and he was still just as starved for you as he had been when he saw you holding that drink looking at him like he was something to be devoured. 

His left hand moves from where it’s been settled on the flare of your hip and up your back to the clasp of your pretty bra.

He’s been letting you take the lead, but you’re not nearly naked enough for him. 

“Hands to yourself,” you mutter as you work to get his belt undone, “I’m trying to get you naked you here.”

Part of him wants to take his time with you, to take you apart slowly and see what new sounds he can uncover. The other part of him wants to have you holding onto that rich espresso colored headboard while he shows you just how much he appreciates you wearing this little set just for him.

“You like my hands,” he murmurs against your neck. He is quick to unhook the clasp of your bra with one hand, easing it down your arms and flinging it behind him.

Yet another offering to his bedroom floor. 

And then he is trailing his fingers down your soft stomach, dipping them under the band of your matching panties. 

He groans when he discovers you’re already wet for him. He finds your clit, and teases you there making gentle figure-eights with his finger, “Got yourself so worked up you couldn’t even stick around for the end of the damn song, huh?”

You’re quick to abandon your crusade against his favorite pair of jeans, leaving him unbuckled and half unzipped, as you circle your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“God, your fingers feel so much better than mine,” you sigh against his mouth as he licks his lips before bringing them back to yours.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more.

He slips his tongue in your mouth taking advantage of your gasp as his circles against you turn from teasing to purposeful. The kiss turning messy with need. With want. 

“I know another part of my body that you like just as much,” he murmurs, as he palms your ass.

Your hand starts moving down his chest, down his stomach. 

“Nuh-uh,” he tsks, catching your tricky hand before it has a chance to reach his cock, bringing it back up to rest on his shoulder. 

“I want to touch you,” you whisper against the spot below his ear that you know drives him wild. 

“I’m getting you off right now,” he says firmly as he speeds up his motions against your clit.

It doesn’t take long before he has you panting against his mouth, your hips rocking against his fingers. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes, “Let me give you what you want.” 

He knows from the sweet whimpers you’re making that you’re close, he breaks away from your kiss to hold your half-lidded gaze as you come for him.

He will never get tired of watching you fall apart. 

He will never get tired of seeing you satisfied and spread across his bed. 

Giving you a moment to catch your breath, he shucks off his jeans and his briefs, releasing a small groan as his cock springs free. He’s been hard for you since he cornered you by the bathroom at the bar. Sending you a lazy-half smile at the way your eyes take him in standing there above you as he slowly pumps himself. 

He knows he looks good, it’s literally his job to keep his body in peak condition. 

But you make him feel good.

No one knows him better than you, makes him laugh harder than you, makes him feel as important as you do. Your appreciative gaze of his body is just another bonus to the many ways you make him feel good about himself.

He climbs on the bed, settling between the cradle of your open thighs.

“You gonna tell me what got you so keyed up, sweet girl?” he asks in-between scattering kisses across your cheeks.

“That’s classified,” you retort breathlessly as you wrap your legs around him. 

“Is it now?” he grinned, kissing along the delicate line of your jaw. He’ll let you keep your secret for now, he had other more pressing questions he wanted answers to, “Did you touch yourself when you ran off to the bathroom?” 

“No,” you whine, as he pulls your nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

“Did you think about it? Think about me?” 

He wanted to know. He needed to know that he drove you just as crazy as you did him. 

“Yes,” you gasped out in confession when he moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, “I’m always thinking about you.”

Good.

“Already know how you feel about my fingers,” he rasps as he kisses down your stomach, making sure to place one on the little tattoo near your hipbone. “Should I let you have my mouth too, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe working your hands into the curls at the top of his head, “Please.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees mouthing at the last little bit of lace still on your body.

He pulls off your pretty pink panties and throws them somewhere behind him, probably landing on that overpriced dresser he bought for you.

He loved that he was the one who got to see you like this. Your hair was a mess from his hands, you pupils were blown wide, and your flushed chest rising and falling with rapid shallow breaths.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says reverently before licking a firm stripe parting you open.

It’s not long before his mouth is meticulously working between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your clit, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder. 

He’s sliding his finger into you and then another, making room in your body, determined to pull a second orgasm from you.

You’re so wet for him, so soft for him, so sweet for him.

He knows what you like. He’s studied your body just as thoroughly he did the aircraft manuals he was given, if not more so.

“More,” you moan, your hips rolling from the stimulation, “I need more.”

Pulling away from you with one more broad lick of his tongue, he leans his head against the thigh that’s thrown over his shoulder, watching your face as he pushes another finger into you. The way you’re pressing your heel into the muscles of his back has him fighting the urge to grind himself into the bed. 

“You look so good like this,” he praises, taking in the way you writhe against the three fingers he has buried deep in you, as he squeezes you hip with his other hand.

He’s seen a lot of unforgettable sights from the cockpit of his plane, but nothing will ever compete with the way you look as you chase your release. Your eyes fighting to say open as you watch him watching you.

“Oh my god,” you exhale when he hits that spot inside of you, your leg starting to tremble with the need, “Please, I’m so close.” 

Using his fingers and mouth in tandem, he works you with same pressure, the same pace. He feels you clenching around his fingers a few moments later, your back arching in pleasure as you fly apart for him. 

Teasing his lips and mustache along the sensitive skin at the crease of your thigh, as you come down from your high, before kissing his way back up your body. Your greedy hands reaching out for him, pulling him to your mouth. He feeds you his tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

The way you’re whimpering beneath him is making him feel out of control.

“I want you inside me.”

Wrapping his large hand around his cock, he drags it through your folds few times before he finally lines himself up at your center. 

And then he’s finally pushing into you, savoring the way you cling to him as he gives you a moment to adjust to his size.

“Rooster,” you say with a sigh against his lips. 

He starts to move when your hips start to shift seeking more friction. And then he’s rocking into you with the smooth, deep strokes that never fail to make your toes curl. Once, twice, three times.

“What’d you say?” he asks, as he slows the pace down. 

Your hands are in his hair, and you tug on the strands when he pulls away to look at you. Your lips are swollen, but he knows that look in your eye.  He can already can guess what you’re going to respond with before your lips have even formed the word.

“R-ooster.” 

The word comes out a stutter, as he roughly thrusts into you again. 

He doesn’t know why he’s bothered asking, he should have known that you were going to make him work for the one thing he wants to hear.

“Say my name.”

He was so gone for you, he wants you riled up and feeling the same way as him. He wants his neighbors to hear you saying his name. Wants them to know that he’s the one making you feel so good.

“Lieutenant,” you taunt, not bother trying to hide the self-satisfied on your face.

If he wasn’t going to get what he wanted then neither were you. 

He pulls out of you completely, flipping you over on the forest green duvet. His hand coming down on your ass, a quick sharp slap.

The sting of it has you gasping into your forearms pillowed underneath your head, and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

Leaning forward, he kisses down the length of your spine admiring the way the goosebumps pebble on your skin now.

“Say my name,” he coaxes again.

He tugs your hips up and licks deeply into you once before pulling away. Watching smugly on his knees at the way your hips tilt up after him, your legs spreading further apart as you offer more of yourself to him.

“Bradshaw,” you counter.

Closer, but still not what he wants to hear. 

His open hand connects on the other side of your perfect ass, earning him a sweet moan from you.

Grasping his cock to slide it through your wetness, he stops just short of where he knows you want to feel it the most. 

He wants you dazed. He wants you desperate for him.

You’ve always been the type to take a mile when you’re given an inch. And he intends to only let you have exactly eight inches tonight.

“You want this cock?” he rasps.

He knows he’s got you where he wants you when you don’t reply with another bratty remark, only desperately nodding ‘yes’ into the mattress.

“Look at me,” he demands. 

You’re slow to lift your head up to look back at him, your eyes are a little glazed over as you take him in. You look as wrecked as he feels. He can only imagine what he looks like through your eyes. He can feel the sweat collecting at his temples, can feel the flush that’s working its way down his neck to his chest.

“You know what I wanna hear, kid.”

That makes you whine. 

“Oh, you wanna be my sweet girl now, huh?” he asks, squeezing your hips.

He wants to taste that lower lip, the one that’s pouting prettily at him as you nod for him again. Even now as you writhe against him you’re still trying to get your own way, still trying to get him to break first.

“Well, you know what to do,” he feels like barely hanging on now, “Say. My. Name.” 

He punctuates each word with the rock of his hips, his cock just grazing your clit. Enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to give you the stimulation that you want.

“Bradley!” you cry out.

He’s inside of you before you’ve even gotten the second syllable out. 

Groaning your name, he throws his head back at the sensation of finally being surrounded by you again.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he tries to ask teasingly, but it comes out more a rumble than anything else. “My sweet girl.”

Your pussy squeezes him harder at the praise as you roll your hips up more to better accept his body in yours. He loved the view he had, loved seeing how wet you were for him, loved seeing just how well he filled you, loved seeing you stretched around him.

He leaned forward a bit, brushing back your hair off your face to see you better. The change in angle making you gasp as you fisted the material beneath you.

“Say it again,” he prompts, smoothing a hand down your back, “I wanna hear you say it again.”

His name. 

The only thing he wanted running through your mind. 

His name. 

The only thing he wants coming from your mouth, other than the sweet whimpers and moans he is pulling from you. 

“Bradley,” you indulge, his name sounding something between a plead and a purr.

Without disrupting the pace he’s set, he nudges your knees further apart. Wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you up against his chest, needing to be closer to you. 

“Go on, let them hear who is making you feel this good,” he grunts roughly in your ear.

“Brad-ley,” the staccato of his name punctuated by his steady thrusts against you. Your hand digging into his hip.

Interlocking his fingers with yours, he lifts your arm to hook it around the back of his neck, holding you to him there. Turning your head, you greedily mouth at the column of his throat, frenzied and wet.

You were it for him, there was no question about it. And he would happily prove to you in all the ways he could think of that he was it for you too. There’s nothing he wants more than to make you feel good. To please you. To give you the best you’ve ever had. 

His other hand slides up from where he had been squeezing your waist to get his hand on your breast. He loves how perfectly you fit in his hand.

He meets you for a kiss, sloppy and perfect, messy and deep. 

He can’t control the sounds of satisfaction escaping him as you move together, feeding off of your sighs and moans. Your hands are grabbing onto whatever part of him is in reach: his hair, his thigh, his arm. 

Enjoying the drag of his cock as he moves in you, he lets himself get lost in the sensation of being connected with you like this. The room filled with the sounds of labored breathing, of your bodies coming together, of you saying his name over and over again.

You’re starting to tremble in his arms, he’s pretty sure your legs would have given out by now if it were for the way he was holding you against him. Your nails biting into the back of his neck, as he slowly drags a hand down your body to where you’re connected.

“I love this,” you murmur into the base of this throat. 

He doesn’t know if you realized you said it out loud, doesn’t know if you meant to say it out loud, but he loves hearing it all the same.

“God, you feel so good,” he can feel the sensation building at the base of his spine, “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

The way his circles his fingers against your clit has you gasping into his waiting mouth. 

“Bradley, please.” 

He’d give you anything. He’d give you everything.

“C’mon then,” he insisted hoarsely, pressing his forehead against the side of your temple, “Say it for me one more time, sweet girl.” 

He speeds up his fingers, set on ending you. Working your body with the precision that he handles his sixty-five million dollar aircraft. Determined to give you what you’re so sweetly asking for.

And it’s his name you gasp as you come undone.

Your is head thrown back against his shoulder as you spasm around his cock, your hips rolling as you are lost to the pleasure of your orgasm. He kisses your neck and lightens the pressure of his fingers on your clit, wanting to extend it out for you as much as possible, enjoying the tiny pulsing aftershocks he is drawing from you. 

It’s only when he feels you go boneless that he starts to lose his own composure. His breathing going completely ragged and hips snapping erratically against you as he chases his own climax.

A few more powerful strokes later he follows you coming hard with a groan, burying his face in your neck as he spills in you.

Somehow, he manages to get you both sprawled out horizontal on the bed without him completely crushing you.

“Holy shit,” he curses flinging an arm over his eyes, his other reaching out to touch whatever part of you he can find. There’s nothing but the sound of the blood rushing in his ears as he tries to catch his breath.

Time gets away from him as he runs his hand up and down your back. It could have been a few minutes or an hour when he feels the bed move, and you slipping out of his grasp as you get up to use the bathroom. 

“No, stay,” he attempts to pull you back to him, feeling the need to have you close again as he tries to settle back into his body. You’re seemingly recovering much quicker than he is at the moment.

“I won’t even be gone two minutes, you can time me.” He can hear the soft affection in your voice. 

“Don’t think I won’t,” he grouses halfheartedly lifting up the arm with his watch on. He manages to raise his head up in time to get a glimpse of your naked figure as you close the door behind you.

True to your word, you are back one minute and forty-seven seconds later. He opens his arms to you as you climb back on his bed and drape yourself half over him.

Much better.

He feels you shift yourself up a few moments later to press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder. 

“I just want to try something,” you murmur before making your way along the bend of his collarbone. 

Up the side of his neck.

He feels his pulse start to kick up again as you work your way up the line of his jaw. He tilts his head away to give you more access to his skin there, basking in the feel of your lips on his body.

“Bradley,” you whisper lightly against the shell of his ear.

The guttural groan that rips through him surprises him. He feels his cock twitch against his thigh, a visceral reaction to you.

And then you’re giggling.

“I knew it,” you get out between fits of laughter, “You’ve got a name kink.”

Your face pure joy at your discovery. He’ll happily let you tease him for the rest of his life as long as you keep looking at him like that.

“Nah, I got a you kink,” he says as he hauls you on top of him.

“I’m already planning on letting you have your way with me again tonight, Bradley,” you proudly declare, propping yourself up on his chest, smiling down at him. “You don’t have to try so hard, I’m a sure thing.” 

If he wasn’t already gone for you, the cheeky wink you sent him would have sealed the deal.

He feels himself already starting to get hard again, one of the perks of being a part of the 1%.

“Sweet girl, you’re gonna be the end of me,” he chuckles, running his hands up your back, “And I remember someone once telling me that they give as good as they get, so I won’t be dialing it in anytime soon.”

And then he is pulling you down for a kiss.

Later that night when you’re riding him so good, you get him chanting your name. 

Over, and over, and over again. 

A couple hours later, he watches you slip away into slumber, satisfied and spent beneath the fluffy comforter on the bed.  

His bed. Your bed. Their bed.

It was just as much yours as it was his, regardless of whether you were officially living together yet or not. He bought it for you, after all.

Even on the occasional nights you spent apart, you were still everywhere. 

He liked the plants you had picked to fill out the empty spaces in the room. He liked that the right side of the bed was your side of the bed. That those were your books on the nightstand, the bookmarks peeking out waiting for you to pick up where you left off. 

There was a trinket tray for your jewelry on top of the dresser right next to the to the leather watch display box that you had gotten him for his birthday. And the drawers of that well-made, but overpriced wooden dresser were filling up with more and more of your things, just like he had hoped for when he got it.

He smiled to himself as he gently stroked your hair. The last time he was at your place, he had accidentally seen the letter from your apartment’s leasing office confirming your decision to not renew your rental agreement and your move out date. He hadn’t told you he knew, he’d rather hear it from you anyways. 

You would always be worth the wait.

The packages that were delivered to the door?

His, for now, until you moved in a couple months from now.

The name signed on the lease for the condo? 

His, for now, until you were ready to ink yours down on a deed for a new home with him. 

The little velvet box tucked away in the back corner of his nightstand? 

His, for now, but always meant to be yours.

You can thank @mak-32 and her photo set of Rooster at the piano for this fic!

Also, many many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse​ for being my go-to gal! I wouldn’t have been brave enough to post the smut if she hadn’t given me the all-caps go ahead! 

Here’s Bradley’s bedroom, if you’re curious!

You can check my other fics out here!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks​ @starryeyedstories​

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic

[dixons-sunshine]

Holding On To You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite not being too keen on PDA, Daryl craved comfort too. He got that comfort by holding your hand in his. It wasn't always that simple, though. He had to work his way up to being comfortable with that. Luckily, you were a patient person.

Or, three different scenarios in where the archer shows progress in his comfort with you.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre-prison (on the road); pre-Alexandria; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, migraines, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: @louifaith, the muse you are, feeding our Daryl obsessed minds with your beautifully crafted scenarios. I wasn't feeling well today (a migraine and I was pretty dizzy) and didn't get much writing done, but this idea deserved to be written. There's a bit of Eugene slander in this but it's because I don't really like S5 Eugene. He's way better in the other seasons imo. Anyways, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The cruelty of life seemed endless. With the stability and safety of the farm being something of the past, having to scavenge for scraps and having to move from house to house every few days, and with the impending arrival of Lori's little baby, everyone's spirits were diminished. Everyone longed for the comfort the farm brought for those few weeks you had all been looking for Sophia, everyone wanted a decent meal to satiate their hunger and although Lori's unborn baby was a reminder that innocence still existed, it was also a cruel reminder that you all needed to find someplace to plant some roots, and fast—especially if you didn't want to attract the dead with the baby's loud crying.

You sighed softly as you quietly followed behind Daryl, yours and his boots making clear tracks in the deep snow. The archer, as observant as ever, noticed your shift in mood and turned his head, eyeing you carefully.

“Ya alrigh'?” he questioned, turning his attention back to the tracks in front of him. Your relationship was pretty new, only having been "officially" together since the two of you had shared a kiss back after the fall of the farm.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. “I'm fine.”

Daryl hummed, unconvinced. “Yer not fine. I know ya better than tha'.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile, walking a little faster to walk next to him. Daryl slowed his pace slightly to allow you to walk next to him at a steady pace, eyeing you as you adjusted your compound bow over your shoulder—a gift he had gotten you when you had mentioned wanting to learn how to hunt.

“I'm fine, I promise. I'm just tired, that's all,” you replied reassuringly, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with your partner.

Daryl shot you a worried look, fully prepared to head back. “If yer tired, we can go back. This trail ain't leadin' us anywhere, anyway.”

“I don't mean tired in the literal sense,” you corrected. “I'm just tired of all this moving around. Not knowing what our next meals going to be, if we even eat at all, not knowing when our current camp's going to be overrun with walkers, not knowing when Lori's baby's going to be here... It's mentally exhausting. We all need a break.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We could do with a couple' of days where we ain't gotta worry.”

Before you could respond, there was a snap of a twig ahead of the two of you. Instinctively, you and Daryl raised your respective weapons in the direction of the noise, expecting to find a walker staggering towards you. However, instead of coming face to face with danger, you saw a small deer walking over to something in the distance.

Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming to take the shot. However, your hand on his arm halted his intentions. He shot you a questioning look, but you only hushed him and beckoned for him to follow you. The two of you slowly crept closer, the scene before you becoming clearer. The small deer made its way to what was presumably its mother, nuzzling against her legs.

You smiled softly at the sight. Despite the fall of the world, beauty still remained. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was thinking the exact same thing at that moment, but he wasn't looking at the deer. He was gazing at you, taking in your radiant smile, the sparkle in your eyes, just everything about you. You truly were beautiful to the archer.

Hesitantly, Daryl brushed his hand against yours. Your smile widened but you made no move to grab his hand, not wanting to scare him off. You moved at his pace, and whether he held your hand at that moment was his decision.

In the end, the only thing he did was link his pinky with yours, and it was a perfect moment for you. In your mind, that was really good progress for a man who wasn't familiar with giving or receiving comfort. You'd wait as long as you needed to for Daryl to be comfortable around you. You'd never push him, never.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The road seemed endless. You listened to the incessant yapping from one of your newest companions in your group of ragtag survivors, Eugene Porter, and had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up. Despite the euphoria and relief that came with reuniting with your group and having new members that could help you all, you were tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. It was so much worse this time around than when you were initially on the road two years back. You were sporting a bruised cheek with deep cuts and scrapes littering the rest of your body, and you had a raging migraine.

And Eugene's droning wasn't helping matters at all.

As if sensing your deteriorating resolve at not biting the poor man's head of, Rick finally called for a break. “We rest here for now. We'll get moving again in an hour. Everything you want to do, do it now. Once we move again, we're not stopping until nightfall.”

Everyone soon dispersed, some heading to a nearby creek to refill the water supply, some starting a small fire to heat up some food and some even laying down on the hard ground to get some much needed sleep. You walked over to a tree and slid down against it, resting your head on your knees, willing the migraine away.

You soon heard a rustling next to you, before feeling a body sitting down next to you. You didn't even have to look up to know it was Daryl—the archer's presence was something you had grown used to and you could identify him anywhere.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, loosely hugging his knees. “Ya alrigh'?”

You hummed, lifting your head to look at him. “I'm fine,” you replied. “I just have a migraine.”

Daryl nodded, his face showing sympathy for you. “M'sorry we dun' have anythin' fer yer migraine. I know how bad they can get.”

You smiled and shook your head, placing your hand on the ground beside you, right between you and Daryl. “It's okay. It'll go away eventually. It's not that bad, as long as Eugene's quiet.”

Daryl chuckled, eyeing the aforementioned man who was sitting near the campfire. “Yeah, he's quite annoying, ain't he?”

“No, he's alright. He just needs to learn to be quiet from time to time.”

Daryl hummed and quieted down, simply basking in the early afternoon heat under the shade of the tree while the two of you observed the survivors going about their chores. However, Rick soon called for everyone to regroup, and you and Daryl got up to follow behind him.

You and Daryl walked at the back, giving you some semblance of privacy, and some semblance of relief from Eugene's rambling as he was at the front with Abraham and Rosita. Slowly and hesitantly, Daryl moved closer to you and brushed his hand against yours, before slowly interlacing his fingers through yours.

You smiled up at him, and he returned the smile with a small one of his own. It may not have been the first time that you've held hands with the archer, but it was the first time that you've done so with people around. Although Daryl slightly manoeuvred the two of you in a way that your locked hands wouldn't draw attention if people weren't directly looking at you, it was still a big deal for you. He was starting to show you off publicly. Although people back at the prison knew you as "the hunter's girl" because of an incident where a guy flirted with you and Daryl put him in his place, PDA wasn't something they ever saw from the man. He preferred to keep that part of your lives private—so this simple gesture was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand, a gesture you and Daryl had come up with to quietly tell the other "I love you". Daryl smiled softly and squeezed your hand back.

You truly loved this man, and he had shown countless times that he loved you, too.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You guys should come over again. This was nice,” Eric told you with a smile, him and Aaron walking out onto the porch with you and Daryl.

You smiled at him and nodded. “We will, especially if you're going to be serving that spaghetti you made again. It was delicious. Seriously, thank you. It's the best meal we've had in a while.”

“No thanks necessary,” Aaron replied, waving you off. “It was our pleasure.”

Daryl nodded, moving to shake Aaron's extended hand. “Thanks. This was a hell of a lot better than tha' party at Deanna's woulda been.”

Aaron nodded and withdrew his hand again, allowing Eric to take his place before moving over to give you a hug. You returned it before giving Eric a hug too, and then pulled back.

“We should get going. Once again, thanks for tonight.”

“Once again, it's our pleasure,” Eric laughed. “Goodnight, guys. We'll see you around.”

“Goodnight,” you greeted them.

“Nigh',” Daryl responded, turning to you and subconsciously extending his hand to you.

You smiled at him but didn't say anything, not wanting him to change his mind about it. You slipped your hand into his and walked with him down the porch steps and into the relatively quiet streets of Alexandria, music from Deanna's party playing very faintly in the background.

You and Daryl didn't instantly go home. You simply walked through the streets, familiarising yourselves with the community. Daryl never let go of your hand; he had even brought your hand up to his lips once to kiss your knuckles, and your heart swelled with love for the man.

The two of you had run into a couple of the people in the community who were returning to their homes after the party, and you had suspected that Daryl would pull his hand from yours, but he never did. His grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly during your interactions with those people, seeking your comfort around people he didn't know. It made you feel special, important. It made you happy to know that the man you met back at the quarry trusted you enough to bring him comfort.

Later that night, when the two of you returned to the empty house and retreated into the sanctuary of your shared basement, snuggled up together under the covers was when you finally addressed what he had done. Daryl was laying with his head on your chest, absentmindedly tracing shapes and figures onto your hand.

“You held my hand today,” you told him, softly threading your fingers through his freshly washed, brown locks, the shower having been courtesy of your skillful convincing.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed absentmindedly, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest.

“In front of people,” you said, eyeing his reaction carefully.

Daryl simply glanced up at you, his face not revealing anything. “Ya want me to stop doin' tha'?”

You shook your head. “No, I like it. It's just a little out of the ordinary for you, and it took me by surprise.”

Daryl was quiet for a few moments. “I always wanna hold yer hand when we're walkin' together. I jus' never had the courage to. Dun' want people to overreact when they see it. But, I dunno... I love ya and I'll be damned if I dun' hold my girl's hand 'cause of wha' people think.”

You giggled and kissed the top of Daryl's head. “So I can expect an increase in handholding?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I love you, Dar.”

Daryl placed a kiss to your chest, before laying his head back down. “Love ya more, sunshine.”

#krys writes .ೃ࿐ #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

[diejager]

Sweetie i know it's been a long time but i really need more Brahms! König🥵🥵🥵!!!!

I KNOW! I STILL REMEMBER THE DAY MY FRIEND ASKED ME TO WRITE THE FIRST BRAHMS!KÖNIG. And I still remember how musky and broad Brahms looked like in the movie….

Brahms!König pt.3 Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, imprisonment, possessiveness, tell me if I missed any.

You could hear their voices, the confused and worried tones of your coworkers through the thick, sound-insulating walls of his little cave. He’d taken you to his home, within the walls of the dilapidated mansion, tying you to his bed and leaving you vulnerable to him and anyone who’d stumble into your restrained figure. You writhed on his bed, the sheet-covered mattress smelling musky and thick, it smelled of sweat and blood and earth, something too masculine, fitting of his stature and being. Your gag was stinky and crusted, a salty and tangy taste lingering on your tongue that told you enough of the cloth’s original use. You would’ve retched if you weren’t gagged so tightly.

Your eyes scoured his room, the dark and dingy basement lit up by a single light of his lamp, left on the small workbench beside every kind of artistic materials, glue, saws, scissors, needles, wool and string organised in their own corner of the wall. Despite the bright light, the rest of the room remained shrouded in darkness, shadows dancing across the walls like demons and monsters coming to haunt you in weakness, coming to join your captor in his fun.

You dreaded the moment he comes back, the silence of your cage a striking contrast to the bustling house you were hidden in. You feared what he’d do to you now that he had you, knowing that he was grinding up against you and rutting your thigh, panting loudly and grabbing at you like a man starved for attention —perhaps he was one. All your training and instincts failed you, stripped from any weapons and your gear, boots unlaced and toes curling in your socks, you’d been left in your undershirt and pants.

In your whimpering and fright, you almost missed the loud, telltale steps of your giant protector, walking down the narrow path to his room. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. You glanced at him, and caught him staring back at you, your sweat-coated skin and flushed skin, naked to his cool eyes. He smiled through them, roving over your panicked expression, pinched brows and tense shoulders, down the slope of your abdomen and the curve of your hips before he moved, stepping closer and closer to you with a bright and needy gleam.

The bed creaked under his weight, slumping to the side as he sat down, his calloused hands cradling your face and coaxing you to look at him when you glanced away, his thumb rubbing the bags under your eyes. He cooed soft words and praises, as if he was calming down a cornered animal, waiting to hand you treats and praises, little caresses and adoring kisses.

“Look at you, Maus,” he sighed lowly, his auburn hair curled around his porcelain mask, tickling the edge of his ears, “You’ll be good for me, ja? If you behave, I’ll untie you, let you walk around our room.”

If you wanted a chance at freedom, you’d have to play into his hand, eat and drink from his big hand until he trusted you to leave you alone for an undetermined amount of time, hunting and scavenging the area he lived in. Gulping down you fear, you gave him a hesitant nod, eyes closed to accept the life you’d live for a while.

“Gute Maus.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #Brahms!konig #Brahms!könig #konig cod #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig #dark cod #tw: dark content #dark content #tw: kidnapping #tw kidnapping #dead dove do not eat

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Two | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Merle Dixon being Merle Dixon, Shane Walsh isn’t great either tbh

Word Count: 1K

Author’s Note: So it's been a hot second (writer's block is a bitch), but I really love this idea and apparently a lot of you guys do too! Thanks for all the love on the first part, all the comments and reblogs have meant the world to me. I really cannot believe how well the first part of this fic was received lol. Let me know what you guys think of this one, if you want to be added to the taglist, or just want to ask me a question.

Extras: Playlist

Daryl is, if anything, a man of his word. He agreed that he’d stay the hell away from Shane’s girl, so that’s exactly what he did. It wasn’t difficult; he is almost always on a hunting trip to keep the ragtag group of survivors fed and when he isn’t, Daryl can be found in his tent taking care of his crossbow and bolts. And since Merle hasn’t spoken a word to you since the little incident in camp, your path just hasn’t crossed his.

That is until his crossbow bolts go missing one morning. 

Daryl rips his tent apart in an attempt to find his missing arrows. A steady stream of expletives escape his mouth as he shuffles through Merle’s belongings, hoping that his older brother just so happened to take his bolts and stash them with his possessions -- it certainly wouldn’t be the first time that Merle took something of his and claimed it as his own. 

After about thirty minutes, Daryl lets out a frustrated sigh. If his bolts aren’t in here, that means someone in camp took them and that could lead to some issues. After the incident with you and Merle, Daryl hasn’t just kept his distance from you -- Daryl has isolated himself further from everyone at the makeshift camp. 

He’s not an idiot and he picked up on everyone’s apprehension in respect to the Dixon brothers since the first few days in camp. That seems to have only gotten worse after Merle’s decision to make a scene in the middle of camp. It doesn’t seem to bother the older Dixon brother; however, Daryl cannot stand how many eyes seem to focus on him whenever he makes an appearance in camp nowadays. Because of this, Daryl has made his trips to camp scarce -- only making his way there to drop off more provisions and supplies. He keeps his head down, he doesn’t speak to anyone, and he doesn’t cause problems.

However, Daryl does take the time to observe the camp and its occupants whenever he’s there. He takes mental notes of who casts him concerned looks. Lori and Carol will stop scrubbing laundry and round up their children every time they see him make his way to the RV. He notices Dale’s eyes narrow every time he enters the RV and how he races to check all of their supplies as soon as he’s stepped foot out of the vehicle. As opposed to popular belief, Daryl has never taken anything from the RV; however, he has left his fair share of scavenged nuts and berries and a handful of animal carcasses in order to keep the camp fed. He’s painfully aware of Shane glaring at him from atop Dale’s RV. He tries to ignore it, but he can’t help the way that it makes his skin crawl. And, against his better judgment, he finds himself keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first, but, as time has passed, he’s found his curiosity towards you shifting into what Daryl can only describe as protectiveness.

And that’s how Daryl finds himself awkwardly walking up to you as you scrub laundry against a washboard. You don’t seem to notice his presence as he approaches. He shifts on feet before clearing his throat, in an attempt to grab your attention. Your head shoots up and your eyes widen as they spot him standing in front of you. Daryl is prepared to turn heel and run in the other direction based on your reaction until a smile spreads across your face. You push your hair out of your eyes and drop the laundry in your hands into the basin in front of you before speaking. 

“Hey, Daryl. What’s up?”

“Ya know if Shane’s around?”

You move your head to look left, then right. Your eyes scan the camp before they land back on Daryl. You shrug your shoulders.

“Don’t know. I’m not his keeper.” 

Daryl releases a breath through his nose at your words. It’s the closest anyone in camp has come to making Daryl Dixon laugh as far as you know and it fills you with pride. You wipe your hands on your jeans and stand up from your position over the basin.

“I may not be Shane, but I might be able to help you.”

“Somebody took my crossbow bolts. Couldn’t find ‘em this mornin’.”

You immediately turn and start walking toward the RV. Shane had told you he was busy this morning with ‘inventory’ this morning. He already took your knife and pistol this morning, so you wouldn’t be surprised if you also found Daryl’s arrows. You explain this to Daryl as he walks behind you. If Merle was here, he’d be laughing at the younger Dixon brother. 

‘I leave you alone and you’re already following ‘er around like a lost puppy dog, little brother?’  

Daryl tries to shake off Merle’s voice echoing in his mind. He watches as you enter the RV and waits as he hears you rustling through the supplies. A few moments later you emerge with a handful of crossbow bolts. 

“I take it these are yours?”

Daryl nods and mumbles a quick thank you as he takes the arrows from you. He quickly counts them, ensuring that he’s gotten all of his property back.

“Do you make them yourself?”

He nods his head again, eyes still focused on the bolts in his hands.

“Could you show me sometime?”

Daryl looks up at you, his head cocked to the side slightly. He’s a little dumbfounded. He wasn’t expecting you to take an interest in his craftsmanship. Hell, he wasn’t expecting you to continue speaking to him after you found his arrows. Thrown off by your actions, Daryl simply says that first thing that crosses his mind as you look at him with an expectant expression.

“Sure.”

Taglist: @darylsl0ver @minervadashwood @hotgirlsshareaccounts @taterbbbug @dreamtofus @youcantstandit @ajlovesdilfs @prettywhenibleed @luvsvnlqt-things @evie-beanie @strnqer @marina-isabella @lissanovak @elissanatok @1tsk1tty @moejoeflow @ceoofdisappointment @jewellthebooknerd

#twd #The Walking Dead #walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #Rick Grimes #shane walsh #merle dixon #glenn rhee #lori grimes #the walking dead imagine #walking dead imagine #Norman Reedus #norman reedus imagine #norman reedus x reader

[pandoa]

every piercing petal

when they find you suffering from the hanahaki disease

~headcanons~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~ warnings: angst, mentions of blood, a little cursing

requested by @miriamladyvoid~✰

he stays with you. he sees the blood drip from each pastel-colored flower, noticing the way each cough from your now frail body pains you with every breath, and stays by your side. he may not know how to help, but the least he could do was wrap his own arms around you in comfort, right? he sits you down as you choke out the few petals that had still been stuck within your throat as a gentle hand innocently caresses up and down your back. leaning your head on his shoulder, he lets you rest yourself against him as if any form of sympathy would alleviate the pain in your chest. he asks no questions from you. he only wants to surround you in feelings of comfort.

riddle rosehearts, cater diamond, TREY CLOVER, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, VIL SCHOENHEIT, rook hunt, LILIA VANROUGE

he wants to find the bastard who broke your heart. who would break you so horribly to make literal flowers grow in your lungs? just who was this person anyway? he walks in and sees you bent over your own knees as you choke on the thorns that scratched your throat, trying to deal with the grief all on your own. he becomes angry that someone would make you go through such suffering. and so, he made it his goal to find the jerk that did this to you. even if the whole idea seemed too reckless. it just wasn't fair. why did you have to ache over something you just couldn't control? all because you were so innocent enough to fall in love? to him, this disease wasn't a sickness. it was a curse. and he knew you didn't deserve it at all.

ace trappola, epel felmier, LEONA KINGSCHOLAR, malleus draconia

he wishes to help you heal. even if it seems like it's hopeless. there has to be some sort of remedy to this. whether it's trying to help you gain the affections of the one you loved or searching high and low for a possible antidote, he does his best in attempting to expel the vines that wrap around your lungs. he plays cupid, matchmaker, scavenger, and even potion-maker to try and rid you of this morbid disease. he just wants to make your days of lamenting disappear. to bring back that smile that used to shine on your face before you had ever fallen in love with someone who's heart was not yours. he'd go to the ends of the earth if it meant he could stop the ache piercing your lungs. just please... don't lose your hope either, alright?

DEUCE SPADE, trey clover, jade leech, KALIM AL-ASIM, rook hunt, epel felmier, MALLEUS DRACONIA, silver

he's confused. maybe it's the way he just couldn't comprehend the facts behind the disease. or maybe it's the way he didn't understand how you could allow your own feelings for someone to grow into a sickness that literally grows flowers into your lungs. either way, he genuinely does not know what to do. he notices the way you cough, and cough, and cough—keeping note of the blood that stained each flower in the process. perhaps he could research this disease if he was the type of person to. who did you love in the first place? why would you let it escalate so easily? he's lost, but he'd do his best to try and comfort you. although... it wasn't him that you loved, right?

riddle rosehearts, ace trappola, JACK HOWL, ruggie bucchi, floyd leech, IDIA SHROUD, sebek zigvolt

he develops the disease too. he sees your body doubled over in a frantic mess, tissues of blood and piles of flowers now scattered around your feet. and before he finally processes anything, he starts to feel a sharp pain in his own chest. one that felt like a million thorns growing within his lungs. he wasn't the one you loved after all. it was apparent now. and while the pain in your throat was caused by your love for someone else, his pain was caused by the lack of feelings you held for him. it was as if the world had blasted him with a sign that said, "congratulations, they're in pain because of their love for someone else, which isn't you, so you get to suffer as well!" even if you had found yourself healed from this sickness, the young man discovers that his ending is all the same. you did not love him. nor would you ever. so he continues hiding his own feelings for you if only to not burden you further.

♥... ALL ...♥

a/n: last one was mainly for funsies >:3

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twstnexus #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #idia shroud #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #sebek zigvolt #♢the scribe♢

[grimesgirll]

you'd been begging daryl to take you hunting.

"why don't you take her?" rick implored. "she's not a bad shot."

"we'd be bowhunting, not rifle hunting." daryl distinguishes with a grunt.

"i can learn," you assure him, holding your compound bow in your hands. "technically, i've been shooting since i was seven."

"once a summer for fifteen minutes while peddling cookies," he states.

"c'mon, she learned a lot at camp." rick rebuts, grinning at you. "right, doll, didn't you learn how to build a fire and purify water?" you nod. "none of us have frozen to death or gotten diphtheria yet, so i'd say you should at least give her archery skills a chance."

"please?" you borderline beg, breath hitching as you see your morning not going how you planned. "i really wanna learn to track."

daryl doesn't say anything, just looks from you to the bow in your hand. rick interrupts whatever thoughts he has with a sigh. "daryl, why don't ya just take her? she clearly wants to go with you." he gestures to you. "how can you say no to her when she's asking so nicely? unless you think it's too hairy for her out there and we should just spend the day tucked inside here."

you whine at the idea. you want to be outside.

that spurs daryl into saying a rushed, "grab your heavy coat and your arrows."

you grin at rick who despite assisting in your victory, looks disappointed that you'll be gone for the day. while daryl is busy grabbing his crossbow, you slink over to rick, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“thanks,” you seal your gratitude with a kiss.

he wraps a firm arm around you. "you're welcome, sweetheart," your leader punctuates with a hand dug in your hair while he brings your face to his. you almost don't notice daryl until he's huffing by the doorway and you're kissing rick goodbye one last time and scrambling to grab your bow before dashing out the door after your boyfriend.

gone from alexandria, you and daryl take off on foot towards what he’d described as the best hunting grounds in the nearest fifty miles.

"be sure to quiet down," daryl tells you, abstaining from cringing as your boots crunch every leaf on the forest floor beneath them.

"sorry," you giggle. you try to quell your footsteps but it's hard when you're so captivated by the beauty of the woods.

before everything happened with the dead walking, you loved being outside. growing up in scouts and regularly camping had turned you into someone who was all too reckless outside for their knowledge of the woods. yes, you knew that predators and walkers lurked around every corner out here but you just want to crane your neck and stare at the sky through the trees, or let your eyes wander over the meandering streams.

that's why daryl is watching you like a hawk.

years of tracking has made him hip to everything going on around him. truth be told, if anyone or anything were on your trail, you were a dead giveaway. stomping about the way you are, you're bound to scare off any small game but he's trying to be patient with you. it's not like you had to keep it down at your hippie dippie kumbaya girl scout camp or on sunlit afternoon hikes. daryl, on the other hand, moved about undetected like it was second nature. had to be quiet if you wanted to actually to leave the forest with a meal.

he's watching you and the woods just to be safe. it's hard not getting distracted by you the way you're getting all caught up in the trees and the vivid greenery surrounding you.

the sight of you; pink lips parted just slightly with your head tipped all the way back to look for bird nests have his jeans getting cramped. you're just so excited to be outside.

it's not like you don't go on walks every day in alexandria with judith or join them on occasional outings beyond the walls. there's just not as much room for you to leave with how dangerous even just scavenging is turning out to be, so it's harder to get you out for a remote nature walk.

"what're we tracking for?" you ask.

daryl pushes a branch out of the way, holding it back as you pass under before catching up. "whatever you don't scare away with all that noise."

you snort. "so no deer?"

the redneck laughs. "not with the way you're tramping through here."

"what about pheasants?" you question, tiptoeing over a particularly rocky section of daryl's trail. "or do we need dogs to find them?"

"you don't need no damn dog to hunt pheasants."

"a decoy?"

"you just gotta' be patient." he clicks his tongue. "but it's not like you'd know anything about that." you let out a small whine and his breath hitches.

"just askin'."

"i know, girl."

"so what're you shooting for?"

daryl shrugs. "think' we can probably find something further up the ridge. rabbit, squirrel, something 'for you to aim at."

you nod and knock an arrow. following your boyfriend as he takes you past one of his favorite creeks outside of alexandria, leading the way as you pad along on the forest floor behind him.

your shotgun is slung on your back in its strap, understudying the compound bow you’d dug out of the armory. there were many fewer bow users in the apocalypse than there should’ve been. for every bow hunter, there were fifteen idiots blowing off the head of whatever or whoever they encountered with some barely functional, scavenged handgun. maintaining the skill and the arrows for a bow wasn't necessarily for the lazy.

you really didn't have much experience with archery or hunting for that matter. rick joked that you were a duck hunter but that had been dumb luck. while scavenging for gas along a riverside park, you'd seen some geese and fired your shotgun. rick couldn't be upset about the noise when your impulsive assault on the waterfowl was what filled your stomachs that night. and as a reward, rick filled you up just the way you liked it that night.

you'd go out firing on random flocks of geese more if it meant rick would fuck you the way he did that night. you were losing your mind - putty in his hands - from all the praise. his good girl who shot their dinner. marking every thrust with more praise.

the naughty bundle of nerves between your legs awakens at the thought of receiving the same treatment from daryl. he didn't love spanking your ass red or doling out punishments like rick, but you wanted to see his face after you caught something. after you shoot a deer with your bow. he would be so proud of you, giving you a celebratory kiss before helping you field dress your harvest.

whatever route daryl is following takes on an impressive incline, giving way to a fragmented vista of the tiny green valley. you wish you had binoculars. once your eyes stop scanning the sky for hawks, an auburn mess of hair catches your eye. even through his black windbreaker, you can see the outline of his muscles along his back. his form and thoughts of him taking you up against a tree cloud your brain until you hear your name.

"yeah," you answer, looking up at daryl who's stopped to pause below a short, dense pine. he motions for you to squat with him and you do, settling into a perched position with your loaded bow sat on your knees.

“right here is the perfect pass along the ridge to come up and over the mountain,” daryl explains, blue eyes catching a bit of sunlight. “a bunch of game will be scampering around as the day goes on. won’t see any deer right before noon though. not that they’d wanna walk up here with your loud ass.”

you snicker before sending him an apologetic look. “sorry, dare’. i’m not used to being quiet like that.”

i know, baby, he wants to say but just points to your knocked arrow. “wanna have that ready. never know when a squirrel’ll come skippin’ by.”

“yes, sir,” you croon, smirking at the way his eyes darken and he playfully ruffles your hair.

settling into a cozy state of surveillance, your eyes start to droop. rick had kept you up after daryl went to bed. this was before you woke up with the urge to accompany daryl on his hunt, so you probably only got four or five hours of sleep. typical rick keeping you up with sweet temptations like his hands on your breasts, his warm mouth on your torso, licking down to your clit and reigniting that fire that’s consumed your core earlier in the night.

you start to feel it stirring when your mind wanders to the man sitting beside you. you smile sweetly at him when he catches your gaze and ask an innocent question about pheasant hunting again that breaks the silence.

then you’re relaying the story about the time your cousin fell out of his tree stand after one too many beers.

daryl guffaws. “that’s some’ shit merle would do.”

"yeah, it was pretty stupid of him."

the quiet returns. you sigh. the silence meant to lull the local game into a false sense of security is boring you. you came out here for some one on one time with daryl and to learn to track, not to sit in silence in the cold for god knows how long.

you close the distance between you and daryl. tucking yourself into his side, you earn a look from him. "i'm cold," you commiserate.

the archer has to look away from your doe eyes to keep his zipper from popping. he mentally debates pulling you closer until he gives in and tugs you to his chest, ruining your position holding your bow.

both of you know you’re eventually going to do what you do best in the cold; get distracted by warming each other up. it’s evident from how you sink back further against daryl. nonchalant even when you feel his hardness against your ass.

“feeling warmer,” you update him.

“good,” he murmurs when you press your head back to his chest. you feel warmer; despite your layers, daryl has gotten your core going enough for you to feel it from head to toe.

you imagine a wave of pleasure, not just flickering body heat as you turn around and face his groin on your knees.

“not out here,” he mutters with a gasp of your name. his belt falls and your hands start on his zipper, progressing the metal zip all the way down until a sturdy hand grabs yours. “don’t you wanna catch something?” he reminds you of the reason you even trekked up here.

you shake your head yes.

“then what’s this all about?”

you roll your eyes. “dare’, I’m bored!”

“i told you that half’a hunting is waitin’!” daryl chides, pushing your hands down.

tears well in your eyes. the older man exhales; he’s fucked.

“dare’-,”

“don’t you start.” he tells you, grasping your chin in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. you tilt upwards eagerly into the kiss from the pine needle littered ground. “you’re gonna scare anything left up here.”

daryl disconnects from you when your bow is lowered to the ground. his thumb slips into your mouth and without hesitation, you treat his thumb to the same treatment he’d gotten last night.

it’s not long before he’s finally saying, “fuck it!” declaring out loud what you’ve been yearning for the entire morning.

with another smirk, you strip him of his pants until he’s popping out of his boxers. your mouth is on him an instant - it’s cold after all. first thing, you envelope him in your mouth, pulsing downstairs again when his hands find warmth in your hair. you don’t need him to guide your head down to the base of your cock for you to take him into your throat.

the black shotgun you’d proudly toted - even after it’d been confiscated at terminus - is deposited hap-hazardously on the ground while your bow is on the other side of your legs. daryl’s ditched his crossbow at this point, opting to explore the far reaches of your throat with his cock while the bow stands against the other side of the tree.

your boyfriend’s breath hitches again. you overfill as much of his cock as you can into your mouth until you slide yourself up and off, taking a break to catch your breath.

fucked out and face flush in spite of the cold, daryl is pleasantly surprised when you dive down to pay his balls some serious attention. you loll each one into your mouth, leisurely progressing up his length with gentle licks until you’re gingerly kissing the head, locking eyes with him.

disregarding the chill beneath your knees, you dip your mouth down on him again, licking a new trail up his rock hard cock. thinking about how painful it must be in this cold, you give into him when he thrusts into your mouth.

hands in your hair, daryl is in heaven. getting head under the trees? sign him the fuck up. you two have fooled around outside before of course but that wasn't usually by choice. without having to worry about a horde of walkers hot on your trail or horrors like cannibals hunting you, he could lean back and just enjoy the sight of you between his legs, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

for a moment, he worries that the sounds you make as you swallow his length will attract walkers but he's too hard to care. you bob up and down, trying to take more of him each time. his hands guide you until he's bucking in your mouth and feel him spill down your throat.

daryl's gonna have to take you hunting more often.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes #twd imagine #daryl dixon imagine #rick grimes x reader #former girlscout!reader #reader is down bad for both of them as per usual #rickyl #rickyl x reader #daryl dixon smut #established relationship #thinking about writing a part two... #guys i've been meaning to get to writing school aka the words to use instead of said tag but life's been busy! #once im not on the gap year doing random environmental intern shit the smut will be so good #i'll be in creative writing iii workshopping my brain dont worry guys #still getting the hang of writing smut #not beta read #darylcentric #dacryphilia if you squint #grimesgirll #getting it on in the great outdoors #blowy

[hellfireswhore]

Insomniac

Carl Grimes x GN! Reader

Summary: Carl grows concerned about you since you guys arrived in Alexandria.

Warnings: language

Pronouns: they/them

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Getting adjusted to new environments wasn’t easy, especially for you. Ever since the prison fell apart, your group has been placed to place every night. You’re exhausted. Then, you were invited to a community called Alexandria

After Rick told the group we’re settling here, you were relieved but uneasy. You didn’t completely trust anyone that wasn’t your family. You held all of your trust in your loving boyfriend, Carl Grimes.

“Hey,” a hand waved in front of your face, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Are you alright?” Carl questioned.

“Oh yeah sorry, I’m good.” Reassuring him. He nods and he turns his direction back to his dad, Rick Grimes, who was holding a meeting for a scavenge.

“Glenn, I’m gonna have you be a getaway driver, you’re good with a wheel.” Rick began looking at Glenn who responded with a nod. “Daryl, I want you to keep watch for anyone or anything who is a threat.” Daryl hummed toward Rick. “And Carl, you’re with me. I’m gonna need help gathering supplies and taking out walkers.” Rick finished and started to wrap up the meeting, leaving you confused.

“Wait, what about me?” You sat up from the table gaining his attention. “I don’t know, Y/N. You’ve been-“ “C'mon, Dad. y/n is one of the best at runs. They barely leave with a mark. Plus, they say you have bad luck without them there.” Carl cut him off. You looked at Rick hoping he’d have you tag along. Carl was right, you were the best at getting in and out at scavenged fast. He signed in defeat. “Alright, fine, you’re with me and Carl.” After that, everyone got ready and headed out of the Alexandrian walls.

———————————

After driving out for what felt like forever, you arrived at an abandoned Pharmacy that didn’t look like it had been touched. Me, Carl, and Rick stepped out of the car while Glenn stayed. Daryl helped us clear out the walkers outside the building while Carl and Rick took care of the ones inside. While they did that, I scanned the area to make sure no one else was there.

“We’re clear,” I spoke towards the Grimes. With that, we went around the store looking for supplies we needed. Deanna gave you the list earlier. You were walking around the isles and suddenly stepped on glass, it was a mirror. “Shit.” You whispered to yourself then you saw yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red.

The state you were desperate to hide is now noticeable: Exhaustion.

“Hey, are you okay?” Carl questioned. You looked up at him, not thinking about him seeing your eyes. “Yeah I just stepped on glass and it startled me, that’s all.” You walked past him continuing your hunting for the supplies, leaving Carl concerned. “Carl, did you find- what’s going on?” Rick asked putting a hand on Carl’s shoulder making the boy turn to the man. “Nothing, Y/N is just acting a little strange today.”

“How so?” Rick asked. “Well, I caught them spacing out during the meeting and just now, they brushed off my question and I noticed their eyes.” After Carl stated that, Rick started to walk towards you, “Y/N,” you turned towards the grown man. “I want you to sit in the car with Glenn.”

“What?! Why?!” You said with an angered tone. “Because I said so, now go.” Rick pointed towards the car. You scoffed and left the store.

“What was that for? They didn’t do anything!” Carl shouted making Rick turn and walk towards him. “Don’t yell. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Let’s just finish up in here and get home.” Carl sighed, continuing to help out his dad.

———————————

“Carl, let’s go, the sun is going down and we still have a long drive ahead of us,” Rick said grabbing the bag of all of the supplies they found. Daryl came out of hiding once Rick announced they were done. “Ya got what we need?” Daryl spoke. “Let’s hope. Deanna wasn’t too specific. Let’s head out.” Daryl hummed in response and hopped onto his motorcycle and started the engine waiting for Carl and Rick to get into the car behind him.

Carl hopped into the back seat and saw you. Your head was leaning against the window. He slightly shook your shoulder and noticed you were asleep. Rick got into the passenger seat and turned his head looking at you and back at Carl. “Thank god. Alright, Glenn, let’s get the hell out of here.” With that, Glenn started the car and drove off with Daryl leading.

After a few minutes on the road, Carl broke the silence. “Dad, why did you look at Y/N and said, “thank god?” He spoke. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing,” Rick responded, looking ahead. With that, Carl started to get angry.

“Worry?! I’m concerned! Y/N has been acting weird all day and you’ve been a complete dick to them for no reason!” Yelling at his dad, making Rick turn toward him. “If you’re concerned, maybe you shouldn’t raise your voice while they're sleeping right next to you!” Rick whispered yelling at his son. “Just cut the shit! Tell me! What is wrong with MY partner?!” silence filled the air, so quiet Carl could hear your breathing. “Rick,” Glenn interrupted. “Carl needs to know. He is Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Here’s the thing, Rick sees you as family, especially since you are dating his son and are still a kid to him. He’s secretive for the right reasons, and that’s to protect his loved ones. But, he knew Carl would be able to help you in this situation.

“Y/N…hasn’t been sleeping, at all,” Rick admitted. Carl sat there, waiting for context. “I don’t know why, but I’ve noticed them taking night watch hours on end and even taking others' places. Anything to avoid sleep, they’d do it.” Rick took a breath. “And, when you mentioned their eyes, I knew it had gone on for too long.” He finished.

Carl signed. How could he not have noticed his own lover was struggling?

“Thank you for telling me,” Carl responded after a minute of silence. Carl looked over at you, who was still sleeping. He moved your head to lay it on his shoulder, hoping it would make you relax more than the car window. Relief fell over him when he felt your breathing against his neck, you were finally getting some rest. Then, you started to snore.

“Woah! Didn’t know they snored!” Glenn giggled. Making Rick cackle as well. Carl smiled, “Hey! It’s never this bad!” He jokingly defended. “Just be happy they haven’t heard you. Their usually a light sleeper.” With that response, the grown men quickly shut up. Before this, if anyone would wake you up, hell broke loose.

———————————

You guys arrived back in Alexandria, it was around 11 p.m. Daryl parked his motorcycle and waited for you, Rick, and Carl. Glenn said his good nights to everyone and headed towards his shared house with his wife, Maggie. Everyone was out of the car, except you.

“I’ll wake them up-“ “hell no, man. Are you asking for an ass beatin’?” Daryl intruded on Rick stopping his hand from touching you. “Well, what do you want me to do? Let them sleep in a car that’ll grow humid?” Rick spoke with sarcasm. “I got it,” Carl spoke up.

He then started to lift you up from the back seat and started to carry you, supporting your back and knees. Your body began to adjust to the position and you rested your head on his shoulder. Carl then started to walk towards the front door. “Strong kid,” Daryl spoke to Rick once Carl took you into the house. “like father like son.”

After carrying you up the stairs, he walked into your room and settled you in bed. He removed your socks and shoes and pulled the blanket over you. Once you were settled, he kissed your forehead goodnight and started to leave.

“Carl..?” He turned around and saw you half awake. He thought you looked so cute in that state but he knew you needed sleep. “Hey, it’s okay, just go back to sleep.” He whispered softly putting a hand on your cheek. “Sleepover? Please?” You muffled, holding his hand on your cheek, looking at him with sleepy eyes. He grinned, “How could I ever say no to that face?”

Carl got comfortable and stepped into bed with you. He put his arm over you, spooning you. “I’m sorry…” you whispered. “Don’t apologize, hun. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? Just go to sleep.” You hummed in response and you fell asleep. He kissed your cheek, “Goodnight, my Y/N”

————————————

“Here you go. Got what you needed.” Rick handed the bag of supplies in front of Deanna. She went through the bag and looked at Rick with confusion. “How did you manage to get nothing on the list?” Rick also got confused. “Wait, what list?” “The list I gave to Y/N. They said you shouldn’t have the list because you have bad luck.” Deena chuckled at the end. “I guess you could say that.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

#the walking dead #carl grimes #fanfic #fanfiction #the walking dead x you #carl grimes x gn reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x male reader #carl grimes x reader comfort #carl grimes x y/n

[munsonluhvr]

EDDIE'S LOVE DAY SCAVENGER HUNT (DAY #4: LOVE LETTER EVENT)

contents: eddie munson x reader. sfw! Eddie sends you on a wild scavenger hunt to reminisce on your relationship - 2.7k

notes: my new addiction is adding little poems in my fics, it's so much fun. so sad that there's only one day left of the love letter event but i had so much fun writing them all!

love letters event master list

Eddie’s tongue sticks out between his teeth as he scribbles onto his last sheet of paper, the last clue to his scavenger hunt that he’s put together – just for you. It’s Valentine’s Day, his scavenger hunt love themed, all the destinations mean something to your relationship. You had been dating for a few months, Eddie putting in immense effort to show you how much he likes you and cares for you. This scavenger hunt is a labor of his love, something he had been thinking about for months.

You open your locker, ready to lift your stack of biology books into your locker, but you notice a small envelope tumble out and land in front of your feet. You frown, looking down as you hoist your heavy books into your locker that’s on the top. Once you push them in, you bend down to pick it up. It was slightly bent, the corners creased; it had been hastily shoved into your locker. You open it, taking the small note card that was placed in it.

In a place of sizzle and flame, Our first date memories claim. Where burgers sizzle and fries are hot, Find the next clue at this special spot.

Now you’re more confused. You looked around you, only seeing the hallway filling with students on their way to their next lunch or class. This must be from Eddie you conclude, and it made you suspicious when you realize that you hadn’t seen him yet today which is abnormal. You shift your school bag over your shoulder, tucking the clue into your jean pockets. You bite your lip, the poem reciting in your mind. It was clearly about Benny’s Burgers, the location of you and Eddie’s first date.

Your first date with Eddie had been perfect, just the way you fantasized it would be. Eddie had been such a gentleman, picking you up promptly at your house in his massive van, a small bouquet of pink roses which were your favorite. You had laughed all the way to Benny’s, Eddie on a roll with jokes and funny stories about the Hellfire club and his uncle whom he lives with. Dinner had been lovely, too, Eddie paying for dinner, allowing you to order as much as you want (you ordered quite a bit, which amused Eddie immensely). When he brought you back to your home, after a short joyride around Hawkins because you didn’t want to part with Eddie just yet, he walked you up to your front door, leaving a kiss on your cheek. Eddie shared later in your relationship that he had loved spending time with you that night, his feelings growing for you strongly and quickly, and he wanted to take it as slow as possible, embracing every sweet moment spent with you. A kiss on the lips felt like he was rushing it.

You blush at the memory, a hot flush coursing through your body. With the note in your pocket, you make your way to lunch where you’re sure Eddie will be. It became clear to you that Eddie had planned a scavenger hunt.

“So, what is this,” you say to Eddie as you sit down beside him at the lunch table, sliding the first clue across the table, interrupting his conversation with the members of Hellfire. They had all graciously accepted you into their group, at their beloved lunch table.

Eddie glances at it, tossing almonds into his mouth. He shrugs. “I don’t know what that is.” You watch as the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile. You cock your head, leaning onto the tabletop on your elbow. “Oh really? Then why are you smiling?” you say, suspicious of his facial expressions.

Eddie’s mouth drops into a forced frown. “I’m not smiling.”

You lean back into your chair, crossing your arms across your chest. “Eddie,” you say with a whine. “Be serious!”

Eddie laughs, glancing at the clue again. “I am being serious. It looks like a clue to me.”

“A clue to?” you ask, drawing the truth out of Eddie one question at a time. Eddie couldn’t resist, you always knew how to play his strings just right.

“Perhaps a scavenger hunt,” Eddie says with another shrug. “You’ll have to follow the note to find out.”

Beside you, the rest of the Hellfire continue to converse, stealing glances at you and Eddie once in a while. You smile, excited by the idea of a scavenger hunt. You look across the cafeteria at the large clock that sits on the wall. Five minutes until your next class. You grab the note, sticking it back into your pocket. You stand up from your seat, going behind Eddie. You place your hands on his shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Will do. See you at the end of it.” Eddie winks in response, diving back into his lunch.

You saunter out of the cafeteria and make your way to your next class. It was clear that the next note was pointing you to Benny’s and that’s where you go right after your last class ends. When you get to Benny’s, you have no idea where to begin to look for clues. You didn’t want to draw attention to yourself, inviting someone to think you were attempting to rob the place while you loiter around the building, attempting to figure out where Eddie could have put the next clue. With a sigh, your fingers twitching with uncertainty, you enter Benny’s.

The smell of warm burgers and hot fries enter your nose, your mouth automatically salivating. The restaurant was somewhat busy, a father with two children sitting at the table near the front window that looks out to the street, a man in a suit who devours a hamburger of to the right of the entrance, and two juniors who you recognize from school occupy the table in the corner. Where would Eddie hide the next clue? Your eyes scan the inside of the restaurant, no small envelope in sight. You do notice, however, that the exact table you and Eddie sat at on your first date was empty. In an attempt to relive that night that you hold close to you, a night that was so special, you seat yourself at the table, the same side you sat on that exact night. You smile to yourself, not caring how crazy you may look to the others that eat at Benny’s. The table is low, your knee brushing the underside of the table. You flinch, knowing that people stick their gum under the table, but instead you feel something flick against your leg. You back your chair up, bending down to look underneath. An envelope, taped to the underside of the table catches your eyes. Swiftly, you pull it, your fingers working quickly to open the next clue.

Beneath starts that flicker and beam, Where cars align and love’s in air, Find memories at silver screen’s fair, A place where love’s first kiss was seen.

You can’t help but giggle, catching on to Eddie’s theme of the scavenger hunt: all the places that meant something to you in your relationship, the locations of your relationship’s ‘firsts.’ The first clue was where you had your first date, now the location of your first kiss. You know exactly when you read it that it’s at the Hawkins Drive in Theater.

It was your third date with Eddie, your heart still beating quickly with nerves even though you had hung out with him several times. You had been tucked into Eddie’s arms, in his large van, a bucket of popcorn in between you, as you watched the movie that played out before you. Your eyes had almost fluttered shut on you, the comfort of laying in Eddie’s arms, the smell of his cologne relaxing you to the brink of falling asleep. Eddie’s arm was wrapped around you, his fingers brushing the length of your bicep. Your skin had tingled under his touch, a slight shiver taking over your body. “You gotta stay awake, you’ll miss the end.” Eddie whispers into your ear, his dingers continuing to stroke your arm. You smiled, leaning into his arms more; you had become comfortable with Eddie very quickly, a fact Eddie didn’t mind at all.

You glanced up at Eddie, his eyes already trained on you. “Okay,” you say, though it comes out in a groggy whisper. Eddie smiled, his other hand reaching up to stroke your cheek. The pad of his thumb moved back and forth slowly, his face coming closer and closer. You did your part by closing the gap between you, connecting yours and Eddie’s mouths together.

It was almost as if the world around you stopped, your heart thudding against your chest as your mouth moves with Eddie’s. The kiss is gentle and soft, the taste of his mouth sweet yet salty due to the popcorn you two had been eating. You sigh a little, your hand entangling into Eddie’s hair.  When your lips eventually part from his, you know the taste and feeling of Eddie’s lips is something you’ll need to experience over and over. To say the least, it wasn’t the last time you and Eddie kissed that night.

As you think that night over, you make your way over to the drive-in theater. Thankfully, it’s close by to Benny’s. You walk down the short path the drive-in theater, the area completely quiet and deserted. You cross your arms across your body, feeling uneasy about being in such a vast area by yourself. You move your feet quickly, deciding to find the third clue quickly and getting out promptly.

As you look around the field that makes up the drive-in theater, the large movie screen staring back at you, you’re befuddled at where Eddie could have possibly put the third clue. Your eyes settle on the building where they serve food and drinks when the drive-in is open. You move across the front of the building, your eyes scanning for potential hiding places. Towards one end of the building, you see the essence of a white object sticking out underneath the small, removeable ‘closed for the season’ sign that hangs on a set of nails. You lift the wooden sign up, finding an enveloped taped to the other side of it. Eddie was too good at hiding these notes, consistently surprising yourself when you locate another one.

In the park where whispers play, “I love you” found its perfect way. Beneath the trees and skies so blue, Our love declared, forever true.  

Another giggle escapes your mouth; Eddie is crafty with poetry, how are you just finding this out now? Again, you’re flashed back to the destination where you and Eddie said ‘I love you’ for the first time. It had been unexpected, just a slip of the tongue, though Eddie didn’t backtrack when the phrase exited his mouth.

“I love you,” Eddie says between laughs as he watched you roll up the bottom of your jeans. You and Eddie had been feeding the ducks, a small date to take a break from studying for your midterms. You had miss-stepped, plunging your foot into the edge of the pond, soaking your pant legs. Eddie let you grasp onto him, letting you find your balance, while you groaned at your mistake. You paused as soon as Eddie spoke, his words catching you off guard. You suddenly forgot that your pants and shoes were soaked with pond water, the bread you had been holding floating away to the ducks. “What?” you say, looking over your shoulder towards Eddie.

Eddie stammered, realizing how his confession, which he was planning to tell you over dinner at some point, had slipped out of his mouth in the heat of the moment. “I, um, love you is what I said.”

Your mouth gaped open, though a smile was quick to appear. “Really? Like you aren’t joking?”

Eddie shook his head, his eyes shifting from side to side until he let his gaze land on you. “No, but I was planning on telling you over dinner.”

You giggled, throwing your arms around Eddie’s shoulder. “I love you,” You murmured, tightening your grip around him. “I have since I met you.”

Now, standing in the drive-in theater, you can’t help but smile, the day so special to you. A day you think about often. Quickly, you high tail it out of the closed drive-in theater, your feet moving quickly.

Though it had one been a few hours since you’ve seen Eddie, you miss him, the scavenger hunt he put together showcasing how much he cares for you. You’re flattered, of course, your love growing for him even more if that’s even possible.

Once you get to the park, you go directly over to the duck pond. As you approach the pond, you can almost see you and Eddie standing at the edge, your outline doubled over looking at your went shoes and pant legs. You can almost hear Eddie’s laugh, see his mouth saying ‘I love you’ just as he had that day. Similar to that day, your heart swells at the memory.

You look around, seeking the location of the next clue. How many clues are left? The walk across the path to the pond, a colder breeze passing by you, causing a shiver to run through you.

You squint, noticing an object at the edge of the pond. As you approach the pond, you see a small clear back, with chunks of brown bread inside. You laugh, bending down to pick the little bag up. On the backside of the bag, you find another envelope.

Ducks quack, feathers flutter, Through twists and turns clues we seek, To the final spot, adventures peak. Scavenger hunt, a thrilling prize, Feeding ducks, a joy in their eyes.

Feed the ducks then come to my house! - Eddie

You smile, half satisfied that you successfully found all the clues and excited that Eddie has something planned for the evening. You do as you're told, tossing the pieces of bread to the ducks, and watching them paddle quickly over to you. They quack gratefully, eating each piece eagerly. Once the bag is empty, you make your way out of the park and towards Eddie’s house. For the first time, you’re thankful that Hawkins is so small that you can walk everywhere with ease.   

As you walk up the path to Eddie’s house, you can see his trailer, his large van parked in his driveway. Once you approach the door, you crack it open. “Hello?” you say, a smile on your lips. You’re excited to see Eddie.

“Look who made it,” Eddie yells from the kitchen. You open the door into his home, the smell of delicious food entering your nose. “It smells delicious, whatever you’re cooking.” You say, stepping into his living room.

A gasp leaves your mouth as you look around, the small table that’s near the kitchen in covered in a white tablecloth, yours and Eddie’s places set with white plates. A large bouquet of flowers placed in the middle of the table, flower petals sprinkled around the tabletop, candles flickers around the room. “Eddie,” you say, clasping your hands in front of you. “All for me?”

Eddie laughs, leaving the kitchen and moving towards you. “All for you, sweetheart. Did you like the little hunt I put on for you?” Eddie says, pulling you into him and wrapping his arms around you. Your head rests against his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso. “I loved it, it was so sweet. So many memories came back to me.”

Eddie nods, pulling back, brushing hair away from your face. He places a kiss on your forehead before ushering you to one of the chairs that’s placed at the table. “I’m glad you enjoyed it; it was something I had been planning for a while now.” Once you’re seated, Eddie moves back into the kitchen, grasping the bowl of pasta and red sauce he had made. He places it on the table, seating himself beside you. “I hope you like dinner, I spent all afternoon on it.”

“I know I will,” you say, reaching out to grasp his hand. “Thank you for everything; I loved it all, I love you.”

Eddie smiles, a blush creeping across his face. As you sit at the table with Eddie, beginning dinner, you are overcome with emotions; so grateful for having a boyfriend who cares so much for you, who puts so much effort into showing you how much he appreciates you. After a tiring scavenger hunt, it’s the perfect way to end Valentine’s Day with Eddie.

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson x you #steve harrington imagine

[iiconicxpersona]

My Girls. Joel x Ellie x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Ellie encounter David and James while out hunting and searching for supplies for injured Joel. After their traumatic experience at Silver Lake, Joel is left to pick up the pieces of Reader and Ellie's shattered souls.

Warnings: SA, mentions of r@p3, abuse, cursing, ANGST AF

Word count: 2.5k words

"Ellie, are you sure you don't want me to go with you? I can always scout for supplies after we get back?" You asked as you walked further down the snow-covered road.

Ellie hugged Joel's rifle close to her and walked alongside you. "I'll be okay. Joel's been teaching me how to hunt, and I want to try to do this on my own. Besides, we're losing daylight, and you know more or less what to look for than I do." She half smiled.

You nod in agreement. Deep down, your intuition told you that maybe separation isn’t a good idea, but you want to show Ellie that you can trust her. "Okay, well, stay close by, and we'll meet back here before sundown. If you run into any trouble or anything, radio me." Using your index finger, you motioned to the walkie-talkies clipped to your pockets.

"Okay, I will."

The idea of letting Ellie and Joel out of your sight, even for a moment, scared you to death, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and right now, you and Ellie were desperate.

Joel had been stabbed in an ambush the day before. He tried his best to tough through the pain from the open wound, but he lost too much blood and fell off the horse halfway to the nearest town. It took every bit of strength you and Ellie had to put him back on the horse. You sat in front of his limp body to hold up his weight while Ellie squeezed on the saddle behind him to help you hold him up until you found shelter in an abandoned neighborhood. Thankfully, none of the doors were locked, making it easier to drag Joel inside and down to the basement, where an old mattress lies in the middle of the room. The pain from the open wound and Ellie sewing it shut with a needle and thread she found in the house was enough to knock Joel into a slumber. But now his wound is infected, and everyone is starving to death. So, while Ellie decided to hunt for food, you must find medicine or anything else helpful.  

At the same time, you kept an ear open for clickers, scavengers, or calls from Ellie. You scout three houses with little to no luck besides bandages and aspirins. That isn’t enough to aid Joel's injury, but it’s a start. At least the aspirins could help break his fever.

You were heading to scout another house when a gunshot fired from the distance. Your pulse racing began deafening your ears, and your adrenaline kicked in as you ran in the direction where you last saw Ellie walking.

"Ellie? What was that? Are you all right?" You frantically asked on the walkie-talkie only to get static in return. She was still too far out of range. "Goddammit, Ellie! Answer me!" But again, there was static. "Shit! Fuck!" You breathlessly cursed to yourself as you continued running forward, unsure where you were going, but time was of the essence.

Trails of blood and footsteps finally caught your attention, and your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. Your mind was already imagining the worst. You knew you shouldn't have left her alone, and if Joel were here right now, he'd be cursing you and himself out for even allowing this to happen. Desperate for some answer, you tried to call Ellie on the radio again as you followed the bloody trail.

A small, nearly demolished shack became the stopping point, and judging from the smoke leaving what once was a roof, there was someone inside with a fire. You slowly crept closer to the shack and took cover behind the wall. You could hear two people talking, and one of the voices belonged to Ellie.

The trail of blood led up to a dead deer lying behind the older man Ellie was talking to, and you felt relief that she wasn’t physically harmed. You watched as she calmly spoke to the man neither of you had seen before. His back was towards you, and from a small opening, you aimed your rifle straight for his head in case he decided to try anything funny. Ellie had the same mindset as she kept Joel's rifle aimed at the man, but she slowly dropped her defenses as he kept talking. The man gave the impression that he was a good guy.

"I sent four of our people to a nearby town to scavenge what they could, and only three of them came back. And the one that didn't was a father. He had a daughter just like you, and her dad was taken from her. Turns out he was murdered by this crazy man, and get this... That crazy man was traveling with a woman and a little girl." 

Just then, your and Ellie's defenses shot sky high as her grip on the rifle tightened, and her aim pointed back at the man.

"You see? Everything happens for a reason. James, lower the gun."

That was when you and Ellie noticed the second man standing on the other side of the shack with his gun aimed straight toward Ellie. Suddenly, you began to see red as you shifted from around the wall and aimed your rifle straight at James. "Stay where you are! Drop the gun, or I will put one between your eyes, asshole!" You demanded James as he kept his gun pointed right at you.

The man chatting with Ellie chuckled at you and looked back at her. "I'm guessing this is your mother?" He sighed. "Okay, no need for hostility today. James, lower your gun. We're not a threat to these women."

"David, they're the ones who killed Alec." James kept his gun pointed at you.

"They didn't kill anybody, so lower the gun and give them the medicine they need for their friend," David demanded in a relatively calm tone. James hesitated while looking between the three of you before gazing at David. "James, I'm not coding anything. Lower the gun and give them the medicine now." David demanded.

James slowly lowered his gun and tossed Ellie the small black bag. You not once took your aim off James, nor did Ellie off of David as she slowly searched for the bag before making her way to your side.

"I know you two aren't with a group. You won't survive out there. I can protect you."

You kept your eyes locked on both David and James as you and Ellie headed back to the house Joel was hiding in. "I told you to call me when you needed help." You scolded once you were far enough and noticed the two men did not follow you.

"I know. I'm sorry, but-" She began, but you cut her off.

"No 'buts' Ellie! You should've called me or at least come to find me first! Do you realize those men could've taken advantage of you or worse? You're still just a kid, Ellie, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you!"

Your words had hit Ellie straight in the heart. You and Joel had treated her like cargo; Joel even told her that's all she was to you two. But deep down, she always hoped that that wasn't true. Maybe you and Joel cared for her, maybe not as family, but at least a friend. You two offering Ellie a choice between you and Tommy taking her to the Fireflies was hint number one that she was right, but your words confirmed the possibility that she meant more than just cargo.

You caught a glimpse of the single tear leaving her eye and felt a sudden wave of guilt wash over your entire body, but she tried to quickly wipe it off as the two of you walked in silence.

───※ ·❆· ※───

After giving Joel a shot of the medicine and changing his bandages, you spent the remainder of the night keeping watch while Ellie snuggled next to Joel for comfort and to keep him warm. The sight of them lying together warmed your heart, and the idea of starting a new life with them back in Jackson flooded your mind for a split second. However, the three of you were on a mission: take Ellie to the Fireflies and use her immunity to save what was left of the world. You and Joel agreed that the whole concept sounded too good to be true, but it may be worth it if the Fireflies could provide you with what you need to go your separate ways. Maybe.

───※ ·❆· ※───

The next day seemed to go by too fast. You and Ellie devised a plan to get David and his men as far away from Joel as possible. Ellie would take the horse to lead half of the men in one direction, and you led the other half out on foot in another. Joel would remain barricaded in the basement, but Ellie would leave her knife in his hands and warn him to stay awake and keep alert in case anyone would find him.   

Before you left Joel, you gently kissed his lips and said a quick mental prayer for the three of you before rushing out of the basement to follow through with the plan.

───※ ·❆· ※───

"HEY MOTHERFUCKERS!" Ellie shouted before shooting her gun at the group.

Just as you hoped, the group split in half and ran after the two of you. David's intentions were clear to you since the day before: he wanted Ellie. You knew that look. You had fallen victim to that look twice back. You were ready to kill him if he touched her, but you needed to focus.

The men behind you were coming up fast as they shot at you to slow you down, if not kill you. You managed to kill one, but two more were still hot on your tracks until they lost you between the trees. Your aim on one of the men was right on target, and just as you were about to pull the trigger, you heard a gunshot and the sound of the horse falling to its death. You ran towards the noise until David caught up and hit you across the temple with his pistol.

───※ ·❆· ※───

As your vision slowly adjusted to the small, dark room, the stench of death filled your nostrils, and you couldn't help but cough and gag. "What the hell?" You whispered to yourself.

Before you could examine the room, the two men who chased you shoved the door open and let themselves in. The harsh wind from the blizzard outside further wakes you up. "Ah, there she is." One of them chuckled before they shut the door behind them and quickly made their way toward you. You tried to fight them off, but the more muscular male hooked your upper body tight between his legs while the other sat on your thighs. "Oh, so we got a fighter; I like that." The man sitting on your legs pulled out a knife from his waistband, and the sight of the sharp blade made you try to fight even harder.

"NO, PLEASE DON'T!" You screamed. Your PTSD kicked into high gear.

"Don't scream!" The man demanded as he held the knife to your face. "Now we were going to kill you, especially for what you and your friends have done to our friends, but David still thinks there's hope for you and the kid. So, while he tries to convince her, he wants us to convince you to give up your friend and join us."

Ellie. Oh god, he has Ellie. "If any of you assholes touch her, I'll ki-"

Your words were cut short when the man with the knife punched you. Your head fell to the side, and ringing filled your ears, but that was when you noticed the decapitated bodies hanging from the ceiling. "I knew this bitch would be difficult." "Maybe we should just kill her." The two men mumbled to each other. "No, better yet, let's see what David's God blessed this woman with underneath all these clothes first." The man with the knife chuckled.

You began groaning and attempting to wiggle free from the men as fear took control of your body. The man on top of you used the knife to cut open your jacket and blouse until your bra was on full display. "Oh yeah, we're gonna have fun with this one." He chuckled. You began to cry out, but that only made the man hit you harder as he struggled to remove your clothes.

"Dude, hurry the fuck up before David shows up!" The man holding your upper body demanded.

"Hang on! This bitch is a fighter!" He laughed as you continued to cry for help. "Make yourself useful and shut her the fuck up!" He demanded the man holding your upper body before lowering himself to pull off your pants. The man holding you covered your mouth with his hand, and that's when you finally saw your opening. You bit down on the man's hand hard enough to bite off a chunk of his skin, with his blood coating your face before he let go of you, screaming in agony. At the same time, you wrapped your bare legs tightly around the other man's head and snapped his neck. The dead man had a gun in his waistband, and you grabbed it and used it to kill the man holding you down.

You stood there momentarily staring at the two men in shock until you remembered Ellie was still out there. You rushed to put your pants and boots back on, holding tight to the gun as you stumbled out of the shack. Your adrenaline is too high to feel the blistering winter hitting your exposed skin.

───※ ·❆· ※───

After running and panicking in circles, you approached the burning building in the distance. At this point, your body began to fight you as the adrenaline rush slowly wore off. You tried to run towards the building, but you no longer had the strength.

Once you were close enough, you could see Joel hugging Ellie, and for a moment, you thought your mind was playing tricks on you. It wasn't until Ellie saw you, quickly ran over, and embraced you in a tight hug that you realized it was real. She was here. He was here. And for the most part, they were safe.

Your hands slowly touched Ellie's head before you wrapped your arms tight around her and held her close while you both cried. Joel slowly approached the two of you and took you both in his arms. His mind was racing, and his heart was breaking at the sight of your bloody, swollen face and ripped clothing. He took off his heavy coat and wrapped it around you and Ellie before holding you close to his chest. Neither you nor Ellie could stop crying in Joel's arms once you both turned to embrace him. Guilt flooded him at the thought of being unable to protect either of you from the men in this god-forsaken town. A mistake he swore then and there to himself that he would never make again.

"My girls," Joel whispered.   

Author's note: Holy shit this was LONGER than I expected it to be, but I have been wanting to write a TLOU fic for a while. I hope you guys like it and if you want me to write more please let me know!

#the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #joel and ellie #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x you

[trulybetty]

dec' 03 x hot chocolate

Prompt: hot chocolate Pairing: joel miller x f!Reader Word Count: 3,196 Warnings: barely beta'd, all mistakes my own, this is au and way off the plot of anything to do with TLOU, mentions of coffee and festive fluff and introductions to our characters ☕ Summary: maplewood, a small town nestled in northern bc where people flock to see the festive decorations of main street and enjoy the festive traditions. finding yourself back home and working for the family business, you strike up a friendship with the town's local contractor. AO3: Linked

x. masterlist

The Little Coffee Shop Around the Corner - Part I

Joel Miller was the type who didn’t believe in buying coffee from a coffee shop. He had a perfectly good coffee maker at home that he’d had for a quarter century now. One that had moved countries and still worked just as well as it had done the first day he’d bought it. 

Well, that was until that very morning. 

With a sputter and a final wheeze, the machine gave up the ghost, leaving Joel staring in disbelief at his kitchen counter. Grudgingly accepting defeat, he grabbed his coat and ventured out to his truck on the brisk Maplewood morning.

He’d moved to the small Canadian town a handful of years ago with his daughter Sarah from Austin Texas. Many had questioned his decision to move not just to another country, but to a town that was drastically different and far removed from Austin.

He hadn’t answered with much more than a shrug.

His contracting business had been doing well enough to live an easy life, step back and enjoy someone else taking the reigns. 

That was until he became a widow at the age of thirty-six and all he’d wanted to do was get out of dodge. Everywhere he turned, there were reminders of her, making it too difficult for him to stay.

Sarah's arrival came after both of his parents had passed away. His brother Tommy had already moved to Wyoming in pursuit of joining a community that he insisted wasn't a commune, and he had settled down and started a family. This left him alone with Sarah, so when they were presented with the opportunity for her to receive a scholarship from a prestigious Canadian school with full access to their renowned soccer program, they eagerly took it as a chance for a new beginning. Despite its remote location in British Columbia, they saw it as a fresh start.

The transition had been challenging, no doubt about it. Neither of them possessed any winter clothing, and they both had to adapt to a new currency (Joel still struggled with the difference between a Loonie and a Toonie) while navigating unfamiliar locations. However, the warmth of the town's reception overshadowed all of those challenges. No one prodded for information or tried to uncover gossip; instead, they were embraced with open arms and quickly became just another part of the Maplewood community.

Sarah had quickly adapted to her new school, which didn't come as a surprise. Meanwhile, Joel had discovered that the town was in desperate need of a handyman, and soon enough Miller Contracting was back in business. 

Pulling into a parking space on the main street outside of the bookstore Sarah often frequented, Joel rubbed his hands together cursing leaving his gloves at home. Despite his years in Maplewood, winter still felt like a shock every time it rolled around.

After taking a moment to orient himself, he recalled that the coffee shop was located to the left around the corner. With this in mind, he began his journey to the end of the street. Luckily, his workload for the day was relatively light, so this unexpected diversion wouldn't cause too much delay

The stores had wasted no time in getting out their Christmas decorations, he looked across the street as he walked to the bakery - its window frames draped in holly and ivy, punctuated by glittering baubles were no exception. Merry Tree Trek, a Christmas tree scavenger hunt put on by the town's businesses was due to start the following day. One of the many traditions Maplewood had for the festive season. 

As Joel entered 'True North Brews,' the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and the gentle hum of conversation welcomed him. The shop was packed with locals, all happily chatting away as they waited for their orders to be ready. Standing in line, he scanned the menu, feeling out of his depth. This was Sarah’s territory - he usually was just there to provide payment before they headed on to whatever errand needed to be completed next.

He took in the festive decor as he waited in line. Christmas lights had been strung along the edges of the bar, while fake holly adorned every pillar in sight. Paper snowflakes hung from the ceiling and garlands of green and red festooned the fireplace. Which crackled merrily at one end of the room, and he smiled to himself as he watched an elderly couple sitting close together on one of the sofas near it - no doubt soaking up every minute of extra warmth they could get before trudging back out into the cold night air.

That’s when he noticed you behind the counter. You were relatively new, he knew your name and that you were the owner's daughter – Sarah had regaled your appearance in Maplewood several months back when you'd stopped by the bakery. Right now you were serving the town’s newest member of the tourism board, he couldn’t remember her name but knew he’d seen her with Marcus from the bakery here and there. Your eyes met briefly, and a hint of a smile danced on your lips.

Finally, it was his turn to order, “Hey Joel,” you said, recognizing him from his numerous visits with his daughter, “No Sarah today?”

He shook his head, “Just me.”

“In that case, what can I make for you?” you asked, your voice cheery in light of Joel’s look of utmost confusion.

“Just coffee, please,” he said, in a tone that suggested this was an everyday request.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “Coffee? Coffee means a lot of different things around here. What kind of coffee would you like?”

Joel scratched his head, looking a bit lost. “Uh, just your regular coffee, you know? Nothing fancy,” he replied, his Texas drawl more pronounced.

You leaned against the counter with a friendly grin. “How about trying something a bit festive? A peppermint mocha, perhaps? It's like a holiday in a cup!”

Joel's eyebrows rose in surprise, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That's far too fancy for my tastes.” he laughed, “Just a regular black coffee will do.”

You nodded understandingly but with a twinkle in your eye. “Tell you what, how about an Americano? It's close to black coffee but with a bit more character. It's on the house, and if you don't like it, you can come back, and I'll make you a straight-up black coffee. But, I have a hunch you might enjoy the Americano.”

Joel looked surprised but intrigued. “Well, when you put it that way... sure, I'll give it a try.”

As you began preparing his order, Joel glanced around, noticing the line behind him starting to grow. “Looks like you've got a busy day ahead,” he remarked.

You smiled, handing him the Americano. “Maplewood wakes up early during the holiday season. Enjoy your coffee, and remember, if it's not to your liking, come back up for that black coffee.”

Joel opened his mouth to respond, but the bustling line behind him urged him forward, cutting short the chance for a proper response. He settled for a quick, “Thanks,” and moved aside.

Later that day as you were wiping down the counters, your mother Jean and the current owner of the coffee shop, joined you out front. “I've been thinking,” she began, her voice laced with a blend of both excitement and seriousness. 

“That’s dangerous,” you quipped, ignoring the scowl she sent you as she made her way around the counter to the front of the store.

“I was thinking,” she said ignoring you, “that now might be a good time for me to step back with you back in town.”

You paused, cloth in hand. Coming back to Maplewood hadn't been your first choice, especially after things ended with Max. Your ex-boyfriend who had suddenly gotten too tied up in climbing the corporate ladder, after a business trip across seas, to notice the relationship unravelling. 

“I really don’t know how long I’m going to be here,” you replied, having already been in town a month longer than your original plan of just six weeks.

The statement was not an exaggeration; the apartment had been in Max's name, and the two of you had always planned to add your own on the deed. But procrastination got in the way. With rental prices on the rise and a sabbatical from work, coming home was your only option until you could figure out your next move.

She shrugged, “Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s long enough for me to do some travelling, get a taste of what an early retirement could look like.”

You sighed, “What’s the angle here, Mom?”

“What angle?” she responded as she fussed with the tree you’d both decorated with coffee-themed decor the night before for the Merry Tree Trek.

Your mother had a knack for mixing business with motherly concern in a way that only she could. She glanced at you over the rim of her glasses, a half-smile playing on her lips.

“No angle,” She said, adjusting a tiny coffee bean ornament. “I've been running True North Brews since before you were born, and it's been a dream. But, I'm not getting any younger, and the world's a big place. I'd like to see some of it while I still can.”

You couldn't help but smile at her adventurous spirit, something you had undoubtedly inherited. “You want to travel? Since when?”

“Since always,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “The shop has been in our family for two generations now. I'd hate to see it end up in different hands, or worse, closed down.”

The weight of her words hung in the air. Taking over the coffee shop wasn't something you had considered seriously. You had other dreams, didn't you? But then again, the shop was more than just a business; it was a piece of Maplewood's heart, and undeniably, a big part of your family's legacy.

Your mother continued, “I know you're figuring things out, and I'm not asking you to decide right this second. But think about it. This place could use your touch and your ideas. You've always had a knack for making people feel welcome, just like your grandmother did when she opened this place.”

You leaned against the counter, absorbing her words. The coffee shop had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember. Your earliest memories were of playing behind the counter, the smell of coffee always in the air.

Perhaps this unexpected turn of events was not just a setback but an opportunity, a chance to add your chapter to the story of Maple Brews.

“I'll think about it,” you said finally, a mix of apprehension and excitement bubbling inside you. But you still threw her a pointed look, “just thinking about it, okay?”

“That's all I'm asking,” she replied, her eyes softening. “Now, help me with this stubborn string of lights, will you? This tree needs to look perfect for when the scavenger hunt starts this afternoon.”

It was nearing closing when the ring of the bell at the front door rang signalling a customer. Looking up you saw Marcus, the owner of Maple Delights standing at the door, stamping his feet to rid his boots of the snow that had started the fall that afternoon.

“Hey Marcus,” you greeted, “can I get you anything?” you asked as you accepted a stack of pink cake boxes from him. Maple Delights had a long-standing business deal with True North Brews to sell their baked goods in their displays - one that extended beyond Marcus' tenure as owner.

He gave you a wide smile, “Actually, it’s what you can do for me?”

You raised an eyebrow, “Well, I’m intrigued.”

“So, the Jingle Bell Movie night later this month,” he said, posing the event as a question. It was an annual tradition of the town, with everyone coming together for an evening of festivities and movie-watching in the community centre. “I was thinking, what if Maple Delights and True North Brews tag-teamed the event?”

Your interest was piqued. “Go on,” you encouraged.

Marcus's eyes lit up. “I'll supply the treats—cookies, pastries, you name it—and you guys could handle the hot drinks? Hot chocolate, spiced cider, maybe some festive coffee concoctions?”

You nodded, already visualizing the bustling event. “Sounds like a perfect match to me. Maple Delights' treats and our drinks? The town will love it!”

“Hey, speaking of the bakery, question for you about the renovations you did when you bought the place. You restored it to its original façade, right?” you asked, as Marcus leant against the counter.

He smiled, a hint of pride in his voice. “Yeah, I did. Wanted to preserve a piece of Maplewood’s history. The building has such character, it felt right to bring it back to its former glory.”

“Well, it certainly is stunning. It must've been quite a project,” you remarked.

Marcus nodded. “It was a labour of love, but totally worth it in the end.”

Your mind was buzzing with ideas and your mother's earlier conversation replaying over in your head, “Who did you get in to do the work?” you asked, knowing that Maplewood wasn't exactly crawling with talented contractors and designers.

“Actually it was Joel Miller, he did the renovation.”

“Really?” you asked, surprised.

Marcus chuckled. “Joel really did some great work on the bakery. He's got a really good eye for detail. Took my vision and made it even better than I could have imagined.”

You were impressed. “Wow, well he did an amazing job. It was one of the first things I noticed when I came back. It adds so much charm to the street.”

“Thanks,” Marcus said, a warm smile on his face. “Joel's a really talented guy. He's a great addition to the community, both him and Sarah.”

“Well, if he did such a great job with the bakery, maybe he could help us with the coffee shop,” you said, half-jokingly.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You're thinking of doing a reno?”

You hesitated, feeling a bit exposed not having intended to speak out loud your internal thoughts, “It's something my mom and I have discussed in the past, but she's the type if it ain't broke don't fix it.”

Marcus laughed, “I can testify to that, I mentioned I was looking to scale back serving coffee in the bakery, and asked if she had any interest in the espresso machine,” you rolled your eyes knowing what was coming, you'd been begging her to replace the old machine for years, “told me that this one,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the tired looking machine, “worked just fine.”

You shook your head, “One of these days she's going to realize giving it a good thud is probably doing more damage than fixing it.”

Marcus glanced at his watch. “I should get going. Got to make sure we have enough gingerbread dough for tomorrow. Those gingerbread men won't bake themselves!”

“Thanks for stopping by. Let's touch base early next week to finalize those plans for the movie night.”

With a nod and a wave, you watched Marcus leave, but now the seed of an idea was planted in your mind. A reno could be just what True North Brews needed to give it a fresh look and make it stand out. But you weren't taking over, you reminded yourself, no -- it was just you helping out with the family business, nothing more, right?

The next morning, Joel’s kitchen still lacked a new coffee maker. The old one sat forlornly on the counter, a reminder of a morning routine disrupted. With a resigned sigh, Joel grabbed his coat and headed out to his truck. The town was slowly waking up, the street sprinkled with early risers and the promise of a busy day ahead.

As he pushed open the door of the coffee shop, the familiar jingle of the bell greeted him, along with the rich aroma of brewing coffee. You looked up from the espresso machine, a smile spreading across your face as you recognized him.

“Morning, Joel,” you greeted. “Americano?” you asked with a hopeful smile since he'd never returned for that black coffee.

Joel nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I think I actually like it a bit more than my usual.”

You laughed as you prepared his coffee. “Glad to hear that. We might make a coffee aficionado out of you yet.”

“Let's not get too ahead of ourselves.” he laughed as he watched you prepare his drink.

Handing him his coffee, you hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Actually Joel, can I ask you something about your contracting work?”

He looked surprised but nodded. “Sure, what about it?”

“I heard from Marcus that you did the renovation work on the bakery. It looks incredible. Said you kept the original design when you worked on it?”

Joel’s expression softened, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Yeah, I did. Marcus wanted to retain the historical look of the building. It was a great project to work on, restoring it to its original state while giving it all the modern requirements.”

You were genuinely interested. “That’s impressive. It’s such an integral part of the town’s charm. I’ve been thinking, True North Brews could use a bit of sprucing up. Would you perhaps be up for discussing a quote any time soon?”

Joel looked around the coffee shop, considering. “Sure, I’d be happy to. What did you have in mind?”

“I'm not too sure, mostly starting fixing what needs fixing and going from there, just keeping the cozy vibe but maybe adding a little Maplewood flair to it.”

He nodded, sipping at his coffee thoughtfully. “Sounds like a good project. Why don’t we sit down sometime next week and go over what you’re thinking? I can put together some ideas and a quote for you.”

“That would be great,” you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of giving the coffee shop a fresh, new look.

Placing his coffee on the counter, Joel handed you his business card from his wallet, giving you a quick glimpse of a family portrait tucked inside. 

“Here,” he said pocketing his wallet and handing you his business card, “why don't you give me a call and we can arrange something?”

You smiled as you traced the logo of Miller Contracting, “Sure, sounds like a plan!”

As Joel left, coffee in hand, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. Not only at the idea of possible renovations but for the growing sense of community you had quickly settled into while only being back for a short period in Maplewood. But before you could think any further about it, the bell above the door rang and a group of tourists trekked in, Merry Tree Trek maps in hand.

You gave them a wide smile as you welcomed them in, “Welcome to True North Brews, what can I get started for you?”

#december x 500 #the little coffee shop around the corner #maplewood au #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic

[cnnmairoll]

Dates They'd Take You to

Character(s) : Jing Yuan, Sampo Koski, Dan Heng a/n : Wanted to try to write for HSR, apologies if this doesn't reach your expectations! I'll try to write more hsr in the future so I can improve! Also this is the first time I write for multiple charas </3

Jing Yuan takes you on a leisurely stroll, embracing his laid-back nature and preference for low-energy dates. He suggests a delightful outing that doesn't demand much effort. Picture a tranquil afternoon walk around the charming streets of Central Starskiff Haven or a romantic moonlit escapade in the enchanting Exalting Sanctum. Alternatively, you could savor a cozy tea session together, engaging in heartfelt conversations that deepen your connection.

It does not matter when or where he takes you, every single day with Sampo Koski is an adventure, and that does not exclude your dates. Sampo's philosophy revolves around creating unforgettable experiences. Whether it's treasure hunting, embarking on a thrilling scavenger hunt, or any other exciting activity you can think of, he's up for it! And as a sweet gesture, before every adventure begins, Sampo never fails to present you with your favorite flower

When you go on a date with Dan Heng, you can be certain that books will be part of the equation. Given his love for reading, he would likely plan a delightful library date, where you can explore shelves together and share literary discoveries. Museum dates are also on his list, as he enjoys providing insightful explanations about historical events or intriguing artifacts. It's worth mentioning that Dan Heng has a unique habit of documenting your dates in a private file within his personal data bank, preserving those special moments for his own recollection. Rest assured, only he has access to these cherished memories.

#˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #honkai star rail #hsr #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #sampo #sampo koski #sampo x reader #sampo koski x reader #hsr sampo #dan heng #dan heng x reader #hsr dan heng

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 6

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Light Smut, NSFW, Minors DNI (as always)

Innopportune Timing

Out of the kindness of your heart, you let Kid and Killer sleep in your treehouse. First, you had wrapped up your more important items into a big leaf, mostly so that Kid wouldn't go through your shit, but if you were leaving this island soon, you would have to pack it up anyway. There were only a few items you wanted to take with you, one of which being your gun. It was fairly unique and you had made it yourself a long time ago, with some improvements since then. It was essentially a double-barreled revolver, set into an over-sized hunting knife. The blade was nestled right between the two barrels. Actually, you were fairly certain you had it with you when you encountered the newly-minted Kid Pirates. See, the cool thing about it was that you could hold the blade to someone's neck and have someone else at gunpoint at the same time. Which is exactly how you had gotten the best of your two friends at the time, Killer under your blade and Kid in your sights. You had sea prism stone built into it, otherwise Kid would have made quick work of you. Much like now, your observation haki sucked though and the next thing you remembered after that was waking up in a med bay with a head injury. It had probably been long enough that they'd forgotten about it. They'd probably been in much more memorable scuffles since then. Still, you didn't plan on showing it off any time soon. 

Killer was able to take the little tincture you had created for him and had quickly fallen asleep. With both of them in the treehouse, there was very little room to move. You had taken your things and put them on the roof, where you had slept. Occasionally you would sleep there of your own volition just to watch the stars. The leaves that made up the roof weren't that uncomfortable to be honest. You didn't hear Killer cough once during the night. That was good. You really didn't want to use your devil fruit. It took a lot of energy from you and you still hadn't completely figured it out yet. Especially with sharing your resources, you didn't have the energy to spare. Just because Killer was quiet, didn't mean you had slept well. Kid had an awful snoring problem. The Kid Pirates are having the best sleep of their lives right now. That's probably why they haven't tried to find their bastard of a captain yet.

The following day, you went about your normal routine and left them to themselves. The little dose of human interaction felt unfamiliar and combined with being cranky from lack of sleep, you wanted time alone. You walked along the beach, picking some non-poisonous fruits and snacking as you looked out at the horizon. Squinting, you tried to make out any sign of a ship. Nothing. Every now and then you could hear branches being snapped near the edge of the jungle. Seemed like Mini was hoping to scavenge your scraps. The beach had nothing to offer except for several semi-recognizable blue or white pieces. Killer's helmet. Finding more of them occupied the majority of your time until the sky started turning orange. If you found enough of them, you might be able to fix it. Technically, he owed you enough already at this point, but you genuinely did enjoy fiddling with and putting things together again. 

Returning to your treehouse, you put the fragments with your other things and checked on Killer again. You saw where Kid had at some point collected things that looked edible. Appraising the pile, you tossed about three quarters of the stuff out the hatch of the treehouse. Well, if he ate any of that, he's probably busy shitting out in the woods. You shook your head. He doesn't learn. Sighing, you made sure Killer was fine for the time being, and made your way back out of the treehouse. 

For some reason you couldn't shake this 'off' feeling you had and your feet had taken you to the spring. It was your happy place, offering some calming, meditative setting. I guess I could go for a dip. You couldn't swim, courtesy of your devil fruit, but this wasn't salt water and the water was only chest deep. The sound of the small waterfall that fed into the pool was always nice to listen to and the coolness of the water felt refreshing on your skin after a long day in the hot sun. Wading into the water, the shirt-dress you wore was quickly tossed to the side. You dipped your head under the trickling water falling from the overhead rocks and attempted to detangle your hair with your fingers. After you were satisfied with your work, you rubbed the dirt from your skin until you felt as clean as you were going to get without a real shower. You floated on your back and watched the sky turn pink-purple for a while, while the dripping and gentle splashing soothed you. Wading to the edge, you rested your head in your arms crossed over the still-sun-warmed rocks bordering the water. At some point you were lulled into a light sleep.

Your eyes opened at the sound of violently rustling leaves. Soft moonlight soon illuminated the Red Menace bursting forth to ruin your peace. You didn't move from where you rested but let out a groan.

"AND WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YA BEEN ALL DAY?"

You lifted your head and gave him an annoyed look. Who are you? My dad? "You missed me that much? I'm flattered," you sarcastically replied. You went back to being unbothered, laying on crossed arms and letting your eyes close. You missed the light tint of pink that dusted Kid's features, not that you could have seen it anyway in the dark.

"NO. I thought ya were going to bring back food! I had to find myself a bunch of shitty berries!"

"Proud of you," you grumbled. You heard him growl in frustration, surely trying to think of something slick to jab at you. When you continued hearing silence, you thought maybe he stalked off. To your horror, you started hearing the muffled plop of fabric on dirt and the clinking of buckles being undone. "The fuck do you think you're doing?" The change in pitch towards the end of your question was the only thing that betrayed your slight alarm. You didn't look towards him, partially because you didn't want to give him the satisfaction and partially because you were afraid you might like what you saw. Goosebumps crawled down your skin as you tried not to imagine what he looked like. 

"Ya forget who yer talkin' to, girlie." There was a shift in the water as Kid stepped in. "I do whatever I want." And right now Kid wanted to cool off some of his frustration that he was still stuck here. As a bonus, Kid wanted to fluster you. It was amusing to him and he wanted a distraction from this predicament. Distraction, at the moment, came in the form of the bare skin of your lean-muscled back. How easy it was to imagine it pressed into the black, silky sheets of his bed...

Girlie. Heat rose to your face. Ew, why do I like that?  Splashes alerted you to Kid's presence at the opposite side of the pool. A relieved breath left your chest. You thought he would place himself uncomfortably close to you. Sinking lower in the water, you slowly turned to face him. An eyebrow quirked up as you took in the sight before you. His scarlet hair was plastered to his forehead and his eyes burned a dark orange. Pale, muscular arms, well an arm and one-fifth of an arm, were stretched on either side of him as he leaned against the edge. You accidentally caught his gaze and frowned when a smirk spread across his features. 

"Couldn't resist turning around I see." Kid wished you would sit up just a little more. The tops of your breasts were dangerously close to breaching the water's surface. 

"Oh fuck off. I can see you trying to manifest the power to see through water." Even with your scars, you had no lack of self-confidence. That being said, you hadn't gotten a look in a proper mirror, only reflections in the water, so you only had a vague idea of their extent. But, you were highly sought-after before this life, and the cockiness from that lingered. "Glad I can only see out of one eye. I don't have to expose both retinas to your ugly ass." It almost pained you to lie. Almost. The competitive side of you took over and you were determined to win this battle of wills.  

Kid snickered. "Killer's told me I've a fine ass actually." Amber eyes wandered over the parts of you that Kid could see. The moonlight reflected a soft silvery light where it touched your scars. It reminded Kid of the way moonlight reflects off ocean waves. Kid was no stranger to scars or disfigurement. It didn't bother him in the least. Especially since he could tell you wore it with purpose, the badge of a fighter. "I might be inclined to show ya if ya beg."

"Me? Begging?" You scoffed. "I didn't even beg for my life when this happened." You angrily gestured to the ruined side of your face. Fuck you revealed too much, you dumbass. You bit your cheek to cut yourself off from saying anything more. 

His eyes widened for a moment. Kid didn't expect that. He wondered how far he could pry. This started as a little fun game but he genuinely wanted to know your backstory. There were obviously a lot of pieces to it and you seemed to be hiding them purposefully. "What happened?" He asked bluntly. Kid wasn't one to beat around the bush. 

You let out an irked huff. "Don't." What business did he have trying to get to know you? At the most you would be a passenger for a week or two and then you would fuck right off to tie up some loose ends. Since you had been alone between when it happened and now, you didn't realize how poorly you would react at being asked about it. You mentally kicked yourself for opening up the door to this line of questioning.

"Ya don't have to be shy with m-," Kid started to tease.

"I said LEAVE IT." Your prior life as a captain led you back into the habit of issuing commands. As you said it, you had lunged forward and pushed a wall of water towards him. It was pretty childish to splash someone, but your temper was known to get the better of you. Great, now he's probably going to drown me. You retreated back a few steps.

Kid wiped the water out of his eyes, with a wicked smile. "Yer a rotten little brat, ain't ya?" Kid stalked forward. He took great pleasure watching you shrink backwards. 

Before you had the chance to do anything, his hand shot out towards you. Where you anticipated to be hit or grabbed, a cold sheet of water hit you. Holding your arms up defensively didn't do much to block the water from going up your nose. In a fit of coughing, you lashed out again but this time was weaker, since the coughing devolved into half-giggles. This was so stupid. I'm having a fucking splash fight with Eustass Kid. 

This went back and forth a few more times. You were... having fun? Simultaneously you were trying to get the water out of your good eye and blindly splashing towards where you thought he was. An iron grip closed around the wrist trying to get him wet. You had finally cleared your vision and your now-free hand attempted to pry his fingers from your wrist. "Fine! I'm rotten. Are you happy?" You were still half-heartedly laughing. Something burned in your lower abdomen. Oh. That was a feeling you had nearly forgotten. It only got worse when he turned you to face him. 

There was the wicked smile again. "No." Kid tugged you closer until he felt your free hand splayed out on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you. "As the winner, I believe I'm owed a prize." 

Yanking your hand back to no avail, you glared up at him. You wanted to take back your other hand too, but you didn't want him to pull you flush against him. Maybe I do. You cursed the basic human needs of your body for causing your will to falter. Sliding your hand further up his chest, you hooked it around his tree trunk of a neck, giving a little tug to make him lean down. You wouldn't give Kid the chance to make the first move. This was going to be on your terms and your terms only. Kid barely gave you resistance, and it was probably only because he was shocked you didn't fight him on it. 

The second your lips met, your wrist was released and you felt his palm press into the small of your back, forcing you to be pressed up against him. You growled out of annoyance, though it certainly sounded like something else to him. Fuck it. You nudged him towards the shallower area where he could sit and still be partly submerged, sliding your tongue into his mouth while you did it. Pushing him down, you were semi-straddled over him. The kiss was broken only when you both had to stop for air, panting. 

"One hand isn't enough," Kid mumbled into the skin of your neck. His hand alternated between grabbing your ass and titties, which were just as soft as he wanted them to be. 

You let out a low laugh. "That's funny... I was thinking the same thing." You could feel his cock against the inside of your thigh. It was befitting of the giant man under you. In other circumstances, this would be considered romantic, an island oasis under the moonlight. The burning feeling at your core was only getting more intense. Your fingers grasped at his red locks as you kissed him again, letting out a satisfied moan when he bit your lip and moved to do the same thing to your neck. 

Both of your heads snapped towards a chorus of whistles and cheers. "Alright, Captain!" "Any more where she came from?" "Hey, where's Killer?" 

Your eyes flicked to Kid. His face was as red as his hair. Not with embarrassment obviously. Just anger.

"OF ALL THE FUCKIN TIMES TO SHOW YER SORRY ASSES!" Kid smoothly bucked you off of him so that he could remove himself from the water. He snatched his clothes, tossing your shirt closer to you when he came across it. "ONE OF YA IS GONNA SUCK MY FUCKIN COCK TO MAKE UP FOR IT." He stormed over to the group and demanded to be taken to the ship. 

The group of mostly men weren't deterred by Kid's yelling. They were gathered around him asking if he was fine and about Killer. While they were focused on him, you lifted yourself out of the water and threw your clothes on. So much for ending your dry spell. 

#eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #one piece #x reader #kid x reader x killer #eustass x reader #killer x reader #smut #it's been a while since I've written smut so let me dip my toes in again #be easy #marooned

[mybelovedwoo]

dates with ateez - headcanon

how would a date look like with ateez members

headcanon, romance, fluff

gn!reader x bf!atz

wc. ~0.4k

an: you can request headcanons if you want to!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here &lt;3

masterlist

hongjoong -shopping dates, where you both help each other to pick out outfits -just complimenting one another -studio dates, where you surprise him with food late at night -just eating delivery food and talking about anything and everything -him showing you what he's working on lately -making you playlists that you listen to together all the time

seonghwa -as funny as it sounds, lego dates -just the two of you building legos, or if you don't like it, you just sit there and admire him or cuddle him -just going on a walk, holding each other's hands -he pays attention that you walk on the inside, where it's safer -if you're cold he gives you his jacket

yunho -ohh game dates for sure -he hates losing, but sometimes he lets you win just for fun, and totally not because he likes to see you being excited about it -doing fun things, like going to a karaoke bar or renting a small boat and going fishing, or going to an amusement park and trying out every ride -lots and lots of laughter

yeosang -really random dates without any planning -picnic in the winter? sure. exploring a whole new city just for fun when it's pouring rain? sure. arranging a scavenger hunt at a place you don't even know? sure. -just a very sweet guy who listens to you all the time, and wants you to be the happiest -gym dates, if you don't like working out, you just sit there in the gym and watch him

san -the sweetest boy in the whole world -wants to do everything you like and makes you happy -you mentioned once that you would like to learn how to crochet, he books a course for the two of you the next day -he is the type of guy to bring you home, spending time with his family, showing his hometown around for you, telling you stories from his childhood -just staying at home and watching a movie -loooots of cuddles and kisses!!!

mingi -drive-in-movie, buying everything that is available at the buffet -not even watching the movie properly, but making fun of it, and laughing all night long -going to a concert of your favorite band together and going out to a bar afterward -always a lot of fun -just talking about nonsense things, non of you understand but it makes sense for the two of you -having a lot of inside jokes no one else understands

wooyoung -you'll never be bored with him that's for sure -going out all the time -going to all the restaurants in town, then rating them, and going back to the best on your anniversary -going to the han river at night, and exploring the city -never letting go of your hands and pulling you closer if somebody is a little too close to you -spending a lot of time with his family too

jongho -going to cafés, drinking americano, although you don't like it and always end up ordering something else -going to the park afterward, sitting on a bench, and talking about everything -he is a very good listener and gives the best advice -buying each other books and reading them, then telling each other what it was about -always buys you a gift, when you are on his mind, so the next date he can give it to you

#ateez #ateez headcanons #hongjoong headcanon #seonghwa headcanon #yeosang headcanon #yunho headcanon #san headcanon #mingi headcanon #wooyoung headcanon #jongho headcanon #ateez imagine #ateez headcanon #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #yunho x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez senario #ateez fanfic #ateez fic

[urfavstargirl1]

the darkest night - part 1 of 3

summary: 12 year old reader searches the woods for best friend!eddie who hasn't been at school in weeks. After finding him and learning the true reason for his absence, she comforts him and by nightfall, their relationship takes a new turn

cw: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, kissing, trauma (mentions of Eddie's dad going to jail), cursing, etc.,

a/n: absolutely had a lucky strike of inspiration from the song lyric shown below. I contemplated making this all one piece or a mini series and my impatient self wanted to already post it even tho im not done so mini series it is.

word count: 3.4k

The darkest night, never felt so bright with you by my side, 5 Seconds of Summer

May 19th, 1978

With every step you took, you could feel the dense earth soften beneath your feet. Stray leaves fell from the trees with every gust of that warm, almost summer, breeze. 

When you left your house, the sun shone brightly, beating down your back as you pedaled down the streets of your hometown, Hawkins, Indiana. 

After passing through your best friend Eddie’s neighborhood and later, his uncle’s trailer at the Forest Hills Trailer Park, searching for your beloved friend, you almost cursed him for practically sending you on some scavenger hunt and a tour of Hawkin’s greatest hits when he wasn’t at either place.

But you were determined to find him. And any sense of frustration at your prior luck seemed to dissipate as the shadow of the forest beyond the Hawkins National Lab protected you from that powerful celestial being of the sun above.

“Eddie,” you called out.

You trudged between the trees, pushing your bike alongside you, scanning the surrounding area.

“Eddie, where are you?"

The bird chirped from their spot perched in the trees overhead.

"It’s me, your best friend in the whole world, Y/N. Wherever you are, please come out, Eddie,” you yelled intermittently as you followed the trail of the old abandoned train tracks.

You took out your trusty compass and followed the path just south of Lover’s Lake. It felt like your little twelve year old legs had been walking for miles. God only knows how big this midwestern haven could span.

But after a while, you started losing patience. Where was he?

“Eddie, this is the worst game of hide and seek we’ve ever played. And besides, we’re too old for that shit,” you exclaimed.

Even alone in the middle of the forest, a small alarm sounded in the back of your head. If your parents heard you say such a word, you would be in big trouble. Good thing it was just you. 

“Eddie, you little shit,” you humphed as you approached the massive boulder the town seemed to agree on calling Skull Rock.

“Eddie, I swear to god if you–” You frustratedly said under your breath as you turned to the other side of the rock, and almost tripped on a pile of… Eddie Munson and his backpack?

“Eddie,” you gasped and looked down at him. His head hung down and his gaze was cast somewhere in the nearby distance, as if the pile of leaves a few feet away were that captivating.

“Eddie,” you dropped down to your knees, “Where the hell have you been?”

You instinctively wrap your arms around his stiff body, engulfing him in the tightest hug humanly possible. You held him like that for a few moments, softening your grip as any anger at having spent the whole day looking for him dissipated.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” you whispered into his neck, feeling the pricking of buzzed hair at his scalp against your skin.

You pulled away slightly, if just for a moment, to see his face. His chin was turned down and he avoided your gaze. For a split second, he bit his lip and looked up at you, frazzled and afraid.

You didn’t say anything. You just returned to your position with your head in the crook of his neck.

As you held him, neither of you said anything. All you can hear is the deep breath he takes, inhaling the comforting scent of your hair.

He slowly slithers his arms around you and holds you back, increasing the tightness of his hold till you can feel him holding on for dear life.

If something wasn’t wrong before, you could absolutely tell it was now.  

“Eddie,” you whisper as you pull away from his grasp, wanting to look at him face to face again.

“Hmph,” he grunts under his breath as he tightens his hold on you, not letting you get away so fast.

So you sit there and hold him. The sounds of birds chirping and the two of you breathing the other in, audible in the air. You stroke his head, with hair buzzed short, or rub circles along his back.

You’ve never seen Eddie like this. If you weren’t so worried, you might even be afraid.

“Eddie,” you softly ask after minutes of silence. “What happened to you?”

You can feel him shake his head next to yours.

“Eddie, I need you to talk to me okay?”

Eddie’s lip quivers, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I just want to know what happened.”

He shakes his head again.

“Please, Eddie,” you whisper and furrow your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the slow and steady stream of hot tears beginning to flow down your cheeks.

“Why weren’t you at school all week? And why are there a bunch of reporters at your house and your uncle’s trailer?”

Eddie winces and makes a noise signaling pain. But then he begins to feel the warm wet tears on your cheek smear into the skin of his neck and pulls away slightly.

He looks at you incredulously, in shock to see you cry over him.

You take a moment to look him in the eye. His big brown eyes are red and slightly puffy. He sniffles and you smile at him painfully.

“It’s bad,” he whispers and looks away.

You grab his hand and give it a tender squeeze. You don’t expect him to say too much after that. Even though it doesn’t satisfy your curiosity, you wanted an answer and he gave you one. He doesn’t seem well enough to do much more than that.

So you nod and look at him.  

“Really bad,” he adds under his breath.

“I’m sorry,” you respond, at least hoping he might be able to tell you when he’s ready.

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a while, but you continue to gently touch him by rubbing circles along his back or squeezing his left hand which hasn’t let go of yours since you first grabbed it.

“Who do I have to fight?” You asked, finally breaking the peaceful albeit confusing silence.

“What,” Eddie grumbles into your neck. You pull away and find a small smile on his perplexed face.

“Who do I have to fight? Whoever it is that made you feel this way, tell me their address so I can go and give them a piece of my mind. No one messes with my best friend and gets away with it,” you explained triumphantly. 

“Silly girl,” Eddie chuckles as he tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m serious Eds. I’ll call backup too.”

“What? You and Raggedy Ann and Andy gonna take on the man?” Eddie asks sarcastically as he absentmindedly drags his fingers along either side of your arm.

“Eddie,” you scoffed as you lightly smacked him in the chest. You made a show of looking around, as if there was someone to hide from, “I told you that in secret.”

Eddie giggles at your reaction, always loving the way he could push your buttons like teasing you about still playing with dolls. Any other moment it would have annoyed you, but now, it puts the biggest smile on your face.

“But if it comes down to it, then yes. We’ll do whatever it takes to fight for justice.”

Eddie’s hands fell defeatedly to your thighs and for some reason it made a weird shiver go down your spine. Before you could even think about why it happened or what it meant, a hardened look fell upon Eddie’s face.

“No need, sweetheart,” Eddie said tensely. 

Even though Eddie was your best friend, he sometimes called you “sweetheart”. He almost always only used it as a joke. Like if you said something goofy or made fun of him back, he’d say something like “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say sweetheart.”

Sometimes the other kids at school would hear you two talk to each other like that. A lot of them would ask if you two were dating. You could have sworn that even some of the teachers started to think so too because they would sit you two next to each other in class.

Even though it wasn’t true, because Eddie was just your best friend, you didn’t mind the special treatment from your teachers.

Otherwise, you had never really given much thought to the name before. It was just one of Eddie’s signature quirks.

But the way he says it now feels strange. There’s more weight to it. The way he says it. The way it feels in your chest when you hear him call you that. It’s all sort of different now.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t think Raggedy Ann and Andy have the power to defeat the darkness that is the Hawkins Police, or worse, my dad,” Eddie says as though he’s just told a hilarious joke.

Your head jerks back slightly from his abrasive words and casual tone. Eddie’s dad? And the police? What happened?

“What? Didn’t you hear, sweetheart?” Eddie grins at you in a way that makes your insides crawl. “Daddy’s dancin’ to the jailhouse rock.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together. Eddie wasn’t making any sense. His dad? Jail? And yet the thinly veiled Elvis reference wasn’t even the most surprising part.

“Your dad’s going to jail?” You say when the pieces finally come together.

Eddie never really had any great stories to tell about his dad. They had a… different kind of father-son relationship. Eddie once told her that he’d wished his dad could have taught him how to fish or play catch instead of teaching him how to hotwire a car.

“Looks like the cats out of the bag,” Eddie says with such casual confidence.

“Eddie, I don’t understand,” you grab his shoulders and try to find some sort of understanding just from the look in his eyes.

“Looks like little Eddie Munson’s an orphan now,” Eddie shrugs, still mysteriously smiling.

“Eddie, don’t say that,” you whine as you throw yourself against him in another bear hug. You don’t understand how he’s being so calm and casual about this right now. Or how he could make jokes at a time like this.

“It’s true,” he whispers as he gently tightens his grip around you.

“What about your Uncle Wayne? You could stay with him, right?”

Eddie loved his Uncle Wayne. He’d constantly tell you about the movie marathons in his trailer or the memories of Wayne taking him and his mom to Benny's Burgers on Sundays.

“Yeah, I moved in yesterday.”

You pull away and look into his puffy eyes. The brown of his irises a pool of pain and longing. Too much for any twelve year old boy to handle.

But that explains why Eddie’s been gone. 

Your parents watched the 6:00 news at dinner every night. They started talking about some high profile criminal case but with not many details able to be released just yet. You were sure Eddie and his family would make breaking news tonight.

“What do you say we just run away?” You asked.

Eddie scoffs, “Yeah? And go where?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “Anywhere.”

Eddie took a moment to think about it before saying, “Let’s go to London.”

“London? Why London?”

“It’s far enough away from here,” Eddie sneers.

“It wouldn’t be because it’s home to all your favorite bands, is it?” You ask teasingly.

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be in the home of the greatest rockstars to ever live,” Eddie says giddily.

You giggle and extend your pinky finger out, “Okay, pinky promise?”

Eddie smiles at you warmly. For the first time all day, he looks happy. He hooks his pinky finger around yours and says, “Pinky promise”.

You and Eddie continue to hang around his favorite hiding spot, Skull Rock, for a little while longer before heading back to his uncle’s trailer and your home before dark. 

When you get home, your parents engulf you in a hug and wail about your absence. 

“Where have you been?”

“We’ve been worried sick?”

“Don’t you ever leave without telling us where you’re going again!”

“We heard about what happened with that Munson boy?”

“It’s not safe for you to be out with him!”

But after a while it all just turned to noise.

You made it home safe and sound. No one got hurt. What were they so worked up about?

And you didn’t understand why they would say things like that. They had known Eddie for years now. He’s the same boy he always was. Eddie wasn’t the one who did the crime, so why was he getting punished?

The thought of all that happened that day kept you well up into the night. As you stared up at your ceiling, you couldn’t help but wonder about Eddie.

What was he doing? Was he sad that his dad was going to jail? Was he relieved to at least be with his Uncle Wayne? You bet he misses his mom now more than ever.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You turn your head toward the window and climb out of bed, your cotton night dress swooshing as you walk over to it.

You draw the curtains and look out the window to find Eddie down on the front lawn. He mouths something, but it’s too dark and he’s too far away to really see.

But you know what it is. This isn’t the first time Eddie’s done this. 

You see him climbing along the side of your house and up to the second story. You open the window when you see his figure come closer.

“Eddie, it’s one o’clock in the morning,” you whisper as he climbs through the window. He enters the room and stands before you. The streetlights outside illuminating his pale skin, white t-shirt, and plaid pajama pants.

“I know, I couldn’t sleep,” Eddie smiles at you, replying in a voice much louder than a whisper.

“Eddie shh!” You shush him and turn over your shoulder, worried the noise might wake your parents.

Eddie’s smile drops and you frown. 

“I know, I’m tired but I couldn’t sleep either,” you say as you wrap your arms around him. His muscles relax and he returns the gesture. 

“What’s keeping you up?” Eddie asked. Obviously the weight of the week’s events were heavy on his mind, but what could be on yours?

“I’ve been thinking about you. Worrying and hoping you’re okay,” you replied earnestly. There was nothing you had to hide. Not from him.

Eddie pulled away and looked at you incredulously. Stunned to think anyone could care enough to lose sleep over him. 

“C’mon,” you sleepily jerked your head to the side in the direction of your full size bed. It was about the same size as the bed in Wayne’s trailer. It’s funny how he had never really made that connection till now.

You don’t say a word as you pull back the covers and climb into the warm bed with soft pillows. You even make a show of scooting your Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls over for him. 

“Can you put those away,” Eddie cautiously asks as he hesitantly walks over to the other side of the bed, “I feel like they’re watching me.”

You roll your eyes and get up to put them in your closet. For a boy who loves scary movies, he sure does have a weird fear of dolls. Not that you would ever understand since you were too afraid to watch said movies with him.

You make your way back to the bed and see Eddie kicking off his shoes and moving to lie down with you. You get under the cover and he does the same. You face each other and in your borderline sleepy state, you smile at him, feeling much more at ease with him here.

“Does Wayne know you’re here?” You asked.

The few times Eddie’s gone to your house like this was usually when his dad was on one and Wayne was out at work.

“No, he’s got the night shift.”

“Oh,” you reply. You wonder if Eddie felt scared being in that home all alone. If it was still hard to sleep even though his dad was gone now.

Even though you secretly liked when Eddie snuck into your room at night, you always worried that you might get caught or Eddie would hurt himself on the way down or something.

But tonight, you’re glad he’s here without pretense of worry.

You snuggle closer to Eddie and rest your cheek against the cotton fabric barricading you from the skin of his chest. You can hear his heartbeat. The rapid rhythm like music to your ears.

Eddie wraps an arm around you and leans down to press a kiss against the top of your head. 

Eddie’s never done that before. But the act makes you feel warm and like your insides have turned to goo. You tilt your head up to look at him. His soft smile and sleepy eyes visible in the pale moonlight. 

For a brief moment, you smile back. 

There’s so many things you wish you could say but don’t know how. Eddie already knows that he’s your best friend. It’s obvious to anyone that you love and care about him. You don’t want to seem like you pity him, but you worry about how he’s doing with all the changes that are going on in his life. You want him to know that no matter what happens, you’ll be by his side. But how?

The only way you know how, the only way you can possibly sum up all of those feelings is to grab a hold of his shoulder, and reach up to bring your lips to the side of his face, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Not too soft but not too firm. One that lets him know you’re there. Warm and alive and together.

Your hand on his shoulder slides back down to his chest, where you can feel the vibration of his heart beating even faster than it did before. 

Eddie looks down at you and you look back up at him but you can’t quite read his face. His eyes are a little wide, but the rest of his expression is neutral. Not sure if your action was received the way you intended, you start to worry. Did he not like it? Was it a mistake? You think you should probably apologize…

But then Eddie cups your cheek and leans forward and before you can even do or say anything, Eddie’s lips are brushed against yours. His chapped lips press a soft kiss to your smooth ones. His lips linger as he applies pressure to yours. And somehow your body knows just how to respond. Your lips return the same pressure as you kiss him back, feeling him smile against you.

You didn’t even realize your eyes were closed till he pulls away and they flutter open. He smiles at you shyly and you gleam back at him. 

Eddie just gave you your first kiss. The first girl Eddie’s ever kissed is now you. 

Your mind is racing with thoughts. You can’t believe Eddie just kissed you! On the lips! It was weird and unexpected, but you kind of liked it, maybe even enough to want more.

For a moment, you contemplate kissing him again. Like a fool, rushing back in for seconds. But before you can, Eddie uses the hand along your cheek to pull you close to him, letting your head rest against his chest again. 

You’re lying breathless pressed against Eddie’s warm body. Perhaps it should be a relief that after an amazing yet unexpected first kiss, you don’t have to worry about what comes next. You could just enjoy it for what it was: a beautiful moment with the boy you love most.

But that’s just it. The boy you love isn’t the same boy anymore. He’s gone through some hard things. He’s changing right in front of your very eyes. And the love you once had for him isn’t the same kind of love you’re starting to have for him now. 

As summer begins to near, you realize it’ll be the first summer you spend together as something different. Because you aren’t kids anymore. You’ll never be those innocent kids again.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #​​ #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #urfavstargirl1

[niicoli]

IMAGINE

So every one knows about the whole of if you see a hot mom on the gram right and go into the comments and see a lot of can your dad fight or can your husband fight yeaaaaa

Not proof read and little suggestive at the bottom

———————————————————————————-

So imagine your out shopping with your precious babies Nanako and mimiko and little gumi and you know you fine, like lick your finger and hot to the touch fine.

And as your out shopping and getting groceries for the house with the occasional snacks for the house, because you plan on cooking tonight for your hubbies and the kids you have the kids pick up the food your looking for almost like a scavenger hunt but using the buddy system, cause who child is getting kidnapped not today.

And as your walking around of course some random comes up tryna run game while you’re out with your kids and I can just imagine the girls on either side of while eyeballing this man because they just like who are you and why are you talking to our mama.

But continuing on you let him try and shoot his shot and of course instantly shoot it down like no im sorry I’m married and he hits you with the well can your husband fight.

(Like yes sir THEY can fight most definitely go ahead get jumped if you want to)

But you just continue to laugh it off as you and the kids walk away…

Now when you’ve gotten home and have the kids their baths your in the kitchen cooking and seasoning ( cause who wants to eat bland food) and you hear the door open and two sets of footsteps.

And when you turn around you see gojo and geto coming into the kitchen with the girls on each back and megumi walking behind with his toy wolves , you tell them to go wash up while you go at the table.

As y’all are sitting down enjoying your meal and satoru ask how your and the kids day was ,YOU get outed not but the girls but by gumi talking about what happened at the grocery store and what the man said and now it’s all of a sudden quiet.

And you can only think “ gumi how could you forsaken me” because you know how these two can get , only for the silence to be broken by suguru laughing it off and saying “ well mommy is very beautiful “ only for him and gojo to put one hand on each of your thighs and squeeze while eating dinner.

As your cleaning up and taking your plates to the sink were gojo is washing dishes he grabs you and pins you to the counter while starting to leave love bites on your neck causing your face to flush and for geto to come in after putting the kids down for bed and to pin you against him and gojo.

And with the dishes forgotten in the sink as they lead you down the hall to where y’all bedroom is promising a night of passion and punishment because you forgot who you belonged to, but to finally cash in on that baby they have been waiting to have with you.

#gojou satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto x y/n #gojo x geto #jjk x reader #gojo saturo #jujutsu gojo #y/n #jjk megumi #mimiko and nanako #imagine #oneshot #drabble #satosugu

[void-ink-studios]

Letters From HR

It literally took one comment on AO3 to get the hamsters in my brain running y'all.

More Scarab backstory, some of the fallout from the Gala, and a bit more worldbuilding for the pantheon! And of course, more couple nonsense from these two dorks.

Word Count: 3,300

Scarab had been expecting the pile of paperwork to suddenly appear in the center of the Time Room. The Organizer had told them to expect it.

Well, maybe he wasn't expecting the stack to nearly reach the ceiling. Prismo didn't look happy to say the least.

"Aw man, really? Homework? Why's the stack so high?"

"Prismo, it wouldn't be much of a punishment if it were easy."

"Scrabby. Dude. Looking at this stack makes me want to throw up."

Scarab sighed, face palming. "Come on, the sooner we start this, the sooner we'll be done with it. I don't particularly want to be back in the Organizer's office."

Prismo groaned dramatically. "What if someone comes in here for a wish?"

"I'll take over the paperwork if a wish maker comes in here. But until then, you're helping. If we both work on it, it'll be done in no time."

"Fiiiiiine" he whined.

Scarab rolled his eyes, amused, as he divided the stack in half. He found with them a list of instructions and things to check.

"Okay, so, the folders are the information we're meant to reference... and the lose papers are what we're checking. We're just filling out any missing information we can find." The beetle could see Prismo's light fading from his eyes the longer he spoke. "Think of it like a game. A scavenger hunt. Whatever you need to get it done."

And so, they set off, pens and stamps being the only noise, sometime joined by Prismo's attempt at improvising a song or occasional comment on the papers.

"Heh, Scarab, did you know the Flame Keepers apparently request brunch every month? Man, didn't think one of the Higher Ups would have to deal with stuff like this."

Scarab gave an amused chirp as he finished another set.

"Well, that is the Organizer's job. She is meant to sort through any and all requests, schedules, gatherings, complaints, and changes that happen around here."

"Woah. Sounds like a lot. Makes me wonder why she bothered to speak with us in person."

"She's always busy. Very busy. But, she's the expert in multitasking. It's equal parts admirable and unsettling to watch."

Prismo hummed as he continued working. "You say that like you've seen it a bunch."

"Well, I kind of did, a long time ago."

Scarab continued on as if he didn't just drop a bomb on Prismo, who nearly dropped his pen.

"You? What were you doing to get in her office so often that you're familiar with her workflow? Some bad-boy backstory I don't know about?"

Scarab sighed, pondering if he'd answer for a moment.

"I was not a "bad-boy" as you suggest. I was an intern, once upon a time, you know. Not all of us can make a statement by accidentally teleporting into the Judgement Hall."

"Woah. And you interned with the Organizer?"

"She was the only one willing to do so. Orbo certainly wasn't going to, after I embarrassed him in front of the Judge. No one knew what to make of me. So, she volunteered to help my transition into godhood."

"Woah" Prismo whispered, and Scarab couldn't help but smile at the incoming onslaught of questions he was sure to get.

"What was... working with her like? I hear she's scary as heck."

"She can be... intense when she needs to be. But it is the nature of her work. She is the administrator of the multiverse, after all. But, if you submit your forms on time and read the directions, she's pretty reasonable."

Scarab thought back to those early days... when he was still just a little beetle, only freshly introduced to the world of gods and their nonsense politics. He felt so tiny then... Like anyone he walked past could and would step on him if doing so carried no consequences.

"U-Uhm... Hello? Is this the Organizer's office..?"

"Who's asking?"

"Scarab, ma'am. I was told to report here... A-Am I in the right room? This whole place is much... larger than the mounds back home."

There was a soft, almost chuckle, echoing through the room.

"Yes, you're in the right room. Come. Sit, Scarab. We have much to discuss."

The tiny beetle did so, tapping his claws together, his wings fluttering nervously.

"You made quite the impression on us, Scarab. It's not everyday a mortal manages to defeat a cosmic threat in single combat."

Scarab caught himself staring dumbly at the entity in front of him. He was unsure what to focus on. There were many eyes focused on him, but countless more floating around the office, and even more arms constantly moving behind her.

"Is something the matter, Scarab?"

He blinked, shaking his head. "N-No ma'am. But... forgive me if this is rude but I would've thought a goddess as important as you would be... bigger?"

The chuckle echoed again, not very soothing, but also not angry.

"I am the size you would find approachable. I look different depending who enters this room. This room does as well. It would do no good if gods of your size are unable to interact with me. But, you are correct, I am much, much larger than this in reality. To large for your mind to reasonable process."

"O-Oh. That's very impressive ma'am... So... what is it I'm meant to do? I am honored that you selected me, but forgive me that I'm not certain how I'm meant to help you..."

"I think you misunderstand, Scarab. You cannot help me, not in the grand sense. It is me meant to help you, little bug. You are going to be transitioning from mortal to godhood. It is not an easy one, and you will need someone to watch over you. While I do that, all I ask you is to listen carefully, and remember to stay aware. And perhaps help me make some corrections of those who do not stay aware."

Scarab bowed in the most respectful way he can, his wings out as far as possible. "I-I am honored, ma'am. I will try my best."

"I know you will."

Scarab shook his head as he was brought back to the present. Prismo was looking at him oddly, and he only then realized he has stopped writing. He tapped on his own head, trying to refocus, and resumed work.

"Did you like working with her?"

"...I did. She made sense to me when nothing else did, back then."

"Isn't she an all powerful, unknowable goddess?"

"Perhaps it's a bit ironic, but that doesn't change the facts. She was reasonable. She had clear expectations. She never tried to talk around what she wanted, or misdirect me, or hide meanings in double talk. She was strict, her expectations were high, but I understood them."

He tutted to himself as he noticed a major mistake in the form he was reviewing. Honestly, can no one read basic directions or labels?

"...I can understand that. I don't like it when people hide what they want either. Why not just say what you need to say? You'll get what you want faster."

"Exactly!"

The two of them lingered in that shared understanding.

"...It's part of why I didn't trust you for the longest time. You're... not like everyone else here. You're genuine when you say the things you do. For the longest time, I was convinced you were... an act. That you had other intentions, and if I could find the right thread it would all unravel, and I could finally understand you. But... there weren't any threads. You are exactly who you say you are. And I'm thankful every day for that."

Prismo gave him a goofy grin at that, one that deepened the pink in his cheeks.

"She have you doing stuff like this often?"

"Oh, all the time. It's been quite a while since I've last done this, but... what's the mortal saying? 'It's like riding a bike'? Like that. I feel eons younger doing this."

"Scrabby. I love you. But you have weird hobbies."

"I've always like pattern recognition. I will not apologize for it."

"And I've never ask you to. Just, remind me to get you some puzzles or something soon. I think you'd like them."

"I'll make a note of it..."

Scarab still wasn't used to people caring. About him, or his internal life. This thing with Prismo... it was still new. Precious. Alien, almost.

He remembers a time when it wasn't. When being cared about was something he understood as a mutual exchange.

"You seem quiet today, little bug."

Scarab jumped at the Organizer's voice. He turned from his papers to look up at her, clicking his talons nervously. "...I thought you preferred the quiet, ma'am.

"You're correct in that I do. But your quiet is not quiet right now. Your quiet is troubled."

Scarab itched under the mask. He didn't like it much, he couldn't see as well and it was hot, but... it was better than the looks he got otherwise. "...I'm not troubled, ma'am."

"It's foolish to try and lie to me, Scarab. And there is nothing to be ashamed of if you are troubled."

"You're a Higher Up, I should be bothering you with my petty woes."

"That is not for you to decide. I happen to like you. And I would like to know what troubles my intern. Does it perhaps have something to do with the mask you're now wearing?"

He lowered his antenna in defeat.

"...Yes, it does, ma'am. I... I do not understand the behavior of this place..."

"How so?"

"...Back at the mounds... everyone helped each other. We shared, we touched, we spoke plainly... but... here, everything's different... No one seems to have an honest word to say. It's all... confusing. I'm left to guess what people mean when they ask something of me and... I feel I get it wrong most of the time."

"Ah. I can see how that might be confusing and upsetting for someone who's known communal life until now. But the gods play petty politics. It is a game to them, a game of faces and half-truths and artfully decorated intentions."

"But... why? Would it not be easier to say what it is you mean? Why should I learn a separate language of half-truths when we could all just say what we intend? And then they treat me like I'm the strange one for meaning what I say."

"That, little bug, I do not know. But I choose not to engage in it. And you shouldn't either, if it troubles you this way."

"You don't have to. No one can give you strange looks for getting it wrong."

"You can."

"Only because I file my paperwork correctly."

"And that is more than can be said than most."

There was a silence between them.

"...They don't like my face."

"Really now?"

"They say I'm... creepy. That I'm not something anyone wants to see. And, because of that, I should drop my bid for Wishmaster. What do... you think, ma'am?"

"In regards to your first concern, I am not the best judge in aesthetic beauty. I don't have a face. Several gods lack one as well. Some are just floating numbers, or a tangle of tendrils. But I do not personally find you creepy. I have seen everything there is to see, and I have seen far worse than you, back in the Time Before Nothing."

She paused her writing for a moment. She opened a palm above Scarab.

"Come here, little bug."

Scarab gulped, putting his pen down and fluttering into her open palm.

"As for your concern of Wishmaster... I think you would make an excellent one. I think you have worked hard, and you don't play politics. A Wishmaster is a neutral party in the cosmos. You must be willing to grant the wish, either from the bravest hero, or the darkest of spirits. You must grant the same wish the same way, whether it be from your best friend or worst enemy. I think you have the temperament to make that distinction. If it were up to me, I would put your name at the top. And, even if you're not chosen, you will always have a place in my employ. You would make an incredible Auditor."

Scarab felt his eyes water and his smile grow wide.

"You do not have to mask here, little bug. I judge nothing but your penmanship."

Scarab's face plates shifted to tuck behind his head. He antenna shivered and his wings rubbed against each other into an eager song.

"Thank you, ma'am. I... needed to hear that."

Scarab sighed at the memory. He looked at Prismo, turning over what the Organizer had said about what it took to be a Wishmaster. Impartiality. No special favors.

While, to this day, he would question if that really described Prismo, he couldn't help but feel like Prismo was the best pick for Wishmaster. Scarab had watched him. Watched him give warnings for poorly thought out wishes. Watched him give chances to rude and vulgar before sending them on their way. Watched him bond and be friendly with those who would seek him.

Prismo was a good Wishmaster. Because he didn't play politics. He was everybody's pal, until you crossed his boundaries. And his boundaries are clear and simple.

Scarab had nearly reached the bottom of his stack, his talons going numb from the amount of writing, when Prismo spoke up again.

"It... sounded like you were close. How come you haven't talked to her until now? Just busy?"

"Hmm... Partially... It's true, when I become Auditor, I became very busy. As was she. But... no, that was not the only reason why... We... had a bit of a falling out. After you were chosen as Wishmaster."

"Woah, what? Was it something I did?"

"It wasn't really your fault. I admit that now, it wasn't your fault you were chosen. But... I don't know. It's... hard to explain. When someone that important likes you... you... you start to think anything can happen if you ask nicely. It was not her decision on who should be Wishmaster. But... I think something felt betrayed. It's complicated and messy."

Prismo hummed, moving over to wrap around Scarab a bit.

"...Do you miss her?"

"...I have you, now."

"That's not what I asked. Do you miss talking to her?"

Scarab struggled for an answer before letting out a defeated, tired chirp.

"...It doesn't matter. I doubt she'd want to speak with me after everything."

"Have you tried?"

"..."

"Oh, Scarab... maybe you should reach out. Say you're sorry, ask her something. Worst she could do is ignore you, Glob knows she has the shredder for a reason."

Scarab thought about it while Prismo rubbed gentle circles into his back.

He thought about their last conversation. Or, at least, the last one before the disaster at the Gala.

"Little bug?"

"...I don't want to talk, ma'am."

"I think do."

Scarab hissed. "What do you want me to say? That was my one shot! I did everything right! I was meant to be Wishmaster! And some... Some random mortal just pops into the Hall, and snatches it away!?"

"The Boss must have seen something in him. Something that got him Noticed."

"But I was Noticed! I beat a monster not even the gods could! That should've counted for something! But it hasn't! I'm still just a groveling insect to them! To all of them! To you!"

"You do not know what I think of you."

"I'm a toy to you! I'm a toy to all of you! I'm something to laugh at! You filled my head with dreams! You made me think I could ever be something... Something like you! Something respected!"

"I am many things Scarab, but you know better than anyone. I don't play politics. As I said, you would be the top of my list if it was my decision. But it wasn't my decision, it wasn't any of our decision."

"...Then... then why did you... why did you build my hopes up? Why did you insist on building me up?"

"Because I believe in you, Scarab. I still do. I regret none of what I said. And I'm keeping to my promises. You will begin training as an Auditor in 20 Time Waves."

Scarab felt the need to scream. She didn't get it. Why did he expect anything else? Why would a Higher Up see him as anything other than... than a cockroach, skittering across the floor.

"Orbo will be your handler. You will begin reporting to his office in 20 Time Waves."

With one swing of a stamp on a piece of paper, Scarab's fate was sealed.

"...I know this is not what you wanted, Scarab. But I do think this is the right course of action. And my office will always be open to you. I hope you know that."

"...Am I dismissed, ma'am?"

There was a heavy silence between the two of them.

"...You are dismissed, Scarab."

That was the last time Scarab had spoken to his mentor. His... one friend...

"Hey, Scrabs, there's something here for you!"

"What?"

Scarab signed off the last of his papers, the stack poofing away as he put it down, before crawling over to sit next to Prismo.

"What is it?"

"It's a letter. To you. From the Organizer."

Scarab stared at the piece of paper. It was her handwriting, that was certain. A... hand written note? He opened it.

"To my little bug.

"It's regrettable that the Gala was the first time we spoke in all these eons. You have changed. I am saddened that I have missed much of your time as Auditor. I only have reports, but it seems you did a remarkable job. I'm not surprised that you thrived.

"However, I am more saddened by what my negligence has allowed to take place. Should you ever return to your Auditor position, you will not be under Orbo's management again. You will be under my direct management, should your stay in the Time Room not be made permanent.

"While I cannot discuss details at this time, Orbo is being handled. The Judge will be hearing about it soon.

"I hope you know I was being truthful to you, Scarab. My office was always open to you. It still is. At least now you have a place to send mail. Do not misinterpret this as an order. But I do hope to hear from you soon. I'm most interested in what's transpired between you and the Almight Prismo.

"-The Organizer"

Scarab clutched the piece of paper. He held it like it was precious.

"Woah dude..." Prismo curled around the beetle again, petting his shoulders. "...I think you should write back. Tell her what you told me."

"...You think so...?"

"I mean, she wouldn't write if she didn't wanna talk, right? You should go for it."

Scarab didn't want to hope. But... well, he'd been feeling that a lot more recently. Hope felt dangerous, with no one in your corner. But he had Prismo. He had Cos and Death and Life. He had... a safety net.

Probably wouldn't hurt to have a Higher Up in that corner too.

"...Maybe I will... Can I have a pen and some paper? She always did like handwritten responses."

Prismo gave him a gentle smile.

"Of course, Lovebug."

Prismo held onto the final piece of paperwork, so they could send Scarab's response with it.

Scarab hadn't dared to hope things could get better in thousands of years. He'd accepted long ago that he'd be the pantheon's scapegoat. That no one would be on his side. That he'd forever be the skittering little insect at everyone's feet.

But that wasn't his life anymore.

He was loved. Things were improving.

And maybe... maybe he could make it even better.

#prohibitedwish #scarab x prismo #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #prohibitedwish fanfic #wrath of the wishmaster