#i hope his children are safe at least
Note
Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo
Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶
true colours; luke castellan
wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader
synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.
warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending
notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈
You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky.
This year, there were two.
As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls.
You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.
Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love.
It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day.
It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen.
Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility.
Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him.
Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you.
“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”
(You came in fifteenth.)
You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?
It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away.
“You alright there, sunshine?”
He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile.
“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.
You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.
The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you.
Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes.
“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls.
Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does.
They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”
He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”
Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him.
So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice.
You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you.
Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”
It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer.
Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.
Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun.
“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt.
You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”
He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh.
“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on.
Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear.
You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.”
If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is.
"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink.
You haven’t talked to him since.
It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too.
“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”
The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale.
“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”
You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”
“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you.
“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”
“Lee!”
“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.
You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”
“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.
The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next.
“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”
There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek.
“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin.
“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?”
“No to the first, yes to the second.”
You wish you said no to both.
The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers.
He will not. Stop. Looking at you.
The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.
Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:
You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there.
It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way.
Luke, calling your name.
At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”
He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”
There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him.
His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear.
“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”
His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.
“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks.
“I’m not—”
“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.”
He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it.
“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!”
His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”
“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”
“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm.
“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”
“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”
There’s a lull.
“What?” You blink stupidly.
“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”
His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”
A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”
His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”
“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."
You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.
“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.”
The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”
“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty.
“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”
The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”
“Not even a little.”
“But you’ve got so many other—”
“I want you.”
“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”
"Your knee is fine!"
"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"
“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”
It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in.
He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.
“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”
Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”
He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”
You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.
“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”
Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth.
In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.
When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.
She's given you two more rainbows.
#perrie’s fics#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#charlie bushnell#perrie's requests#pjo#pjo x reader#pjo fic#luke castellan fic#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan fluff#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo tv show#heroes of olympus#percy jackson
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes
Summary: Things have returned to normal, or at least they seem to have. Nothing can ever go your way, though, can it?
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 7925 words
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, face sitting, grinding, spanking (it's like once and not even on the ass), Kyle is definitely a munch, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, reader is a little shit, angst, PTSD, nightmares, trauma, mommy issues, family issues, language, the author's bias showing just a tad.
A/N: Have you ever cried while writing smut? I have. Had two mental breakdowns during the course of this chapter, the worst of the two during the smut scene. Sobbing while writing the reader getting her back blown out? That's a new one for me. But, I did it. I finished Chapter 16 this week. I'm feeling significantly better than I was, at least physically. Giving it to you a day early because I feel bad about not posting last week. The events of this chapter pick up pretty much where the previous one left off. Timeline wise, this chapter is spread over roughly a week-ish. And special thanks to the battle rattle anon for inspiring part of this chapter 🫶
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(This is my all time favorite gif of him I swear I stare at it way too much)
You’re clawing at the door frame, desperately clinging to the last thing you can hold on to, the last shred of your life as you know it. You fight the hands pulling at your arms, threatening to pull you away from the comfort, the warmth, the safety of your home, of your pack.
Your mothers grief-stricken sobs reach your ears, her cries of desperation as they rip you from her, your father’s hate filled gaze directed at you over her shoulder as he holds her back. She loves all her children, but you were always her favorite. The bond between you two was always the strongest.
Now you know why.
The arms rip you from the doorframe seconds before the door slams closed. It’s like a gavel strike declaring your fate, cutting you off from everything you knew. You’re pulled back from the door, from the house that had become your safe space, from the pack inside.
They’re not your pack anymore. The thought is like a sharp knife, severing the lifelong bond in your mind. You’re not a part of them anymore. You’re alone in this world, cut off from what you knew, and it’s all your fault.
If only you could have presented as an alpha, like you were supposed to.
You’re sobbing, breaths coming in choking gasps. Your chest feels tight, your body tense and aching as you fight against the constricting hold around you.
“Easy, easy.” A deep voice murmurs in your ear, your senses beginning to return. “Yer alright, kitten.”
Your breaths continue to come in shaky gasps as you start to recognize your surroundings. You’re in Johnny’s room still. His arms are wrapped tight around you, your own pinned against your chest. You had fallen asleep before you even realized it, exhausted after your night with Johnny.
“Ye were havin’ a nightmare.” He says, projecting his natural beta scent in an attempt to get you to relax.
You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the scent start to numb your brain. The tears continue to slide down your cheeks, but slowly your breathing begins to normalize. Johnny begins to loosen his hold around you, not letting you go, but enough that you don’t feel like you’re being constricted anymore.
“Si gets them too.” Johnny continues, speaking quietly. His breath is warm as it fans your ear, reminding you that you’re awake now, and your nightmare is behind you. “Woken up tae elbows and fists in my face many times.”
You keep your eyes closed, taking in deep breaths as Johnny lays with you in silence, his fingers gently stroking your arms. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. You hadn’t meant to have a nightmare. Not in front of them. You knew it would happen eventually, but you had hoped you could avoid it as long as possible.
You don’t want to reveal your weakness, your pain, your inner struggle to them. They have enough of their own, they don’t need to know how broken you are too.
You lay there, slowly calming your breaths and the slight tremble in your limbs as you wait for Johnny to begin questioning you. He’ll want to know, he’ll want to hear what it is that’s plaguing your mind. You’ll have to tell him, you’ll have to explain everything and then he’ll want to know more. He’ll want to unearth the brokenness and the pain that you’ve buried so deeply like an archaeologist looking for the secrets of an ancient civilization.
You don’t want to reveal it, you want to bury it again, lock it back in the recesses of your mind where it can’t hurt you. You want to compress it back down until you feel safe again without the threat of the past hanging over your head.
Johnny continues to relax his hold around you as you begin to calm down again, the tears finally slowing to a stop. You take deep breaths, trying to match Johnny’s even breathing behind you. You wait for it, the inevitable question, the prodding, the digging. He’ll want answers, he’ll want to know what plagues your mind, how much it’s been happening, why you haven’t said anything.
You’re not sure how much time passes as you lay there, counting breaths. It’s silent in the room, in the barracks. Even outside it’s quiet, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting patiently for the shoe to drop, for the truth to get revealed.
You can't wait any longer. The tension is too thick, the thought of waiting for the question to break the silence is too much. You'll rip the bandaid before he can try and force it from you. “I don't-”
“Ye don't have tae tell me.” He cuts you off before you can even start, the words slicing through yours, stopping you from spilling your darkest, innermost thoughts. “We all have them sometimes. No shame in that.” He tightens his grip on you for a moment, pulling you closer against his chest. “Simon doesn't even tell me all of his. Thinks he might scare me off, or somethin'. I'm no’ gonnae force ye to tell me anythin’ if ye don’ want to.”
You're taken aback by his words. You suppose they all have to be plagued by nightmares of their own, with the kinds of things they have to see when they're in the field. Ghost had told you a bit about the nightmares that haunt him, and that had only been one tragedy, one mission. You suddenly feel silly. The kinds of things you’re afraid of, the nightmares that terrify your mind suddenly seem inconsequential to the things they must dream about at night.
You wiggle in Johnny’s arms until you’re facing him, his eyes half closed as he stares down at you. You shift forward, pressing your face against his bare chest. His head tucks so his chin rests against the top of your head as he holds you, his breathing slowing just slightly as he drifts back to sleep. You don’t sleep, laying there awake as you listen to the slow, rhythmic beating of Johnny’s heart.
He’s snoring quietly, breath fanning across your hair as he sleeps peacefully. You let your fingers trail over his skin as you wait for his early alarm that will signal the end of your quiet moments of bliss, snapping you both back into your realities. You trace the scars lining his skin, all of them with their own stories, just like John’s.
He makes a garbled, snorting noise as your fingers brush over his ribs, his entire body twitching. His hand moves, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “Tickles.” He murmurs, lifting your arm so it’s draped around his neck. He's asleep almost immediately, as if he hadn't woken at all from your tickling.
You continue to lay there as he sleeps, your mind drifting between sleep and your racing thoughts until Johnny’s alarm goes off. He groans, reaching across you to turn it off. He lays still, breath still fanning over the top of your head. For a moment you’re worried he’s fallen asleep again, but eventually he moves, rolling on top of you.
He presses his face against your neck, letting out a quiet groan. He’s heavy, but a solid weight above you. It’s comforting, the weight of him like a blanket keeping you safe. He presses gentle kisses against your neck, his fingers trailing across your shoulder before brushing over your mark. You let out a whine, arching against him.
“Screamin’ Jesus.” He curses, getting hard against your thigh.
“Don’t you have to go work out?” You ask as he begins to grind against you.
“Would rather stay here with you.” He growls against your throat.
“Won’t you get in trouble?” You gasp, bucking up against him.
“Worth it.” He grunts, kicking the sheets off the end of the bed.
“Someone missed the morning workout.” Kyle says as you and Johnny sit down at the table for breakfast. You’re the last ones there, despite Johnny skipping his early morning workout.
You take your normal spot between Kyle and John, sitting gingerly on the hard bench. There’s still a distinct ache between your thighs from Johnny’s enthusiasm and intense stamina last night and this morning.
“Aye, don’t worry. I still got a good workout in.” Johnny says cheekily, winking across the table at you.
You’re afraid you may combust as the other three pairs of eyes at the table look at you. It’s no secret what you were doing last night, or this morning. Johnny, as in most aspects of his life, is loud in bed. Kyle had known you were going to, and so had Simon, but you find your gaze turning to John as your face warms.
You’re not quite sure what you’re expecting as you look at him. It’s not like he had forbidden you from pursuing relationships with the others, or even shown any distaste at the idea. You were open to love the other members of the pack, just as they did one another, just as he did.
His face is stoic as he stares at you, before it begins to lighten, a gleam shining in his eyes. “Did he take good care of you?” He asks, the corner of his lips twitching.
You swallow thickly, your face getting warmer as you nod. “Yeah.”
“Good.” John grins. “ Then I suppose I can forgive him for sleeping in this morning, so long as it doesn’t become a habit.” He casts his glance across the table.
“I’m a bad influence.” You say, spooning porridge into your mouth.
“Certainly worth the trouble, though.” Johnny says, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “Especially when you do that thing with your tongue-”
Johnny’s words are cut off with a pained yelp as Ghost kicks him under the table. “Don’t go spilling all her tricks.” He grumbles, eyeing the tables around you.
You think your face might be permanently warm at the thought of anyone nearby hearing the topic of your conversation. Of course they know, but hearing about it was something entirely different.
Kyle walks you back to the barracks after breakfast, your hand in his, fingers laced together. His thumb rubs the back of your hand absentmindedly, shoulders brushing as you walk. Neither of you say anything, but you don’t have to. Unlike Johnny, Kyle is happy to exist in silence. They’re so very different, despite both being betas.
Your brothers had often joked about betas being boring, and how glad they were that neither of your parents were betas. You’d disagree now, after spending some time around betas. They’re just as complex as alphas and omegas, in their own ways.
Boring was the last thing you’d describe Johnny as last night.
Kyle holds the door for you as you enter the barracks, following you down the hall. You stop in front of your door, your hand pausing on the knob as Kyle leans in close to you.
His chest presses against your back, breath fanning your ear as he speaks. “Can’t wait to find out about this trick you do with your tongue.”
Your face warms again, your heart thudding in your chest as you turn to look up at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips. “You could find out right now.”
Kyle’s lips lift in a smirk as he leans in closer, trapping you against the door. “I’d love to, but I don’t think the Captain would be quite so forgiving if I skipped out on this training.”
You stare up at him, lost in his big brown eyes. “Soon?”
He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. “Of course. Just say the word.”
He leaves you there with your heart thudding in your chest, your stomach churning in excitement. You’d be more than willing to go that extra step with Kyle right at this very moment, but the subtle ache between your thighs thanks to Johnny is a good reminder why you should wait. You want to enjoy your time with Kyle.
You know it will be worth the wait.
“How have you been?”
You shrug, sinking back into the plush chair. It’s warm in the office, a stark contrast to the cold downpour outside. “Fine.” You answer, running your hands over your jeans. “Tired.”
“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises an eyebrow at you. “Have you not been sleeping well?”
“I’m...having a hard time falling asleep.” You say. It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the whole truth.
“Why do you think that is?” She asks, writing something down.
Your palms begin to sweat. You hadn’t planned on going into too much detail about this with her, but you knew she’d likely notice and remark on your tired appearance. “Been thinking too much.”
“About what?” She probes, staring at you.
You know you don’t have to tell her anything. What you share is up to you. Yet, you can feel the words bubbling up, threatening to spill over before you can stop them. “My family.” You say, releasing some steam from the boiling pot inside you. Tears burn your eyes, threatening to fall as you continue. “Especially my mom. I miss her a lot sometimes.”
“You had a close bond with her.” Dr. Keller says. It’s not a question.
You nod. “The closest out of all of my siblings.” You snuffle, wiping the tear trailing down your cheek. “Makes sense why.”
“Sometimes we have traits or behaviors that show before we present that hint at our possible status. Having a stronger bond with one parent over another, especially in mixed status packs, can signal what one might present as.” Dr. Keller says. “Were you the first omega to present in your pack?”
You nod. “Yeah. My older brothers were alphas, and I don’t know about my younger siblings.”
“That could all contribute to a strong bond with your mother.” Dr. Keller leans back in her seat. “I’m assuming you haven’t had any contact with them since the institute.”
“Not since I was taken from home. The institute didn’t support keeping those connections with previous packs and...I don’t think they would have reached out anyway.” You say, picking at the fabric of your pants.
“What makes you say that?” Dr. Keller asks.
You pause, not sure you want to open that bag of worms. If anyone is safe enough to do it with, you know it’s going to be Dr. Keller. She won’t judge you, she won’t think you weak or silly for having such thoughts, such fears. She doesn’t care how broken you are. You’re not part of her pack. She’s an outsider, a doctor above all.
“Well, they did send me to the institute, didn’t they?” You finally say.
Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she drops her gaze to her notebook, writing something down. “I suppose you have a point there. Hypothetically, if you were given the chance to, would you want to talk to them again? It’s not uncommon for omegas to seek out their previous packs and families after they leave the institute.”
Your stomach twists at her question. Even if it is only hypothetical, you had existed for years in the institute thinking you’d never get to see or hear from your family again. They were behind you, lost to you. They wouldn’t accept your attempts to reach out to them, even if you knew where they were. Even after leaving the institute, you knew the chances of seeing them again or even just hearing from them was almost none. You have a new pack now, your old one doesn’t matter.
That’s just the life of an omega.
Would you want to? In this hypothetical world where this question exists as a potential option, would they even answer if you called? Would they accept an invitation to see you again, if they were given the chance? Could your father feel regret after all of these years for what he did to you?
“I...” You frown, tears pricking your eyes again. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s a complex situation. If you ever wanted to, though, I’m sure they could make it happen.”
Your gaze snaps to hers, the shock at her words clearly written on your face. Of course they probably could. It was their job to hunt down hard to find people, and with the CIA at their backs, you’re certain they could track down your family easily. Would they do it for you, if you asked? Would they allow you to have that connection with your old pack while still being part of theirs?
“Most people keep some form of contact with their family, even after they move on to their own pack.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s not unusual, even among omegas. Just something to think about.”
“Do you still talk to your family?” You ask her, partly out of curiosity.
“I do.” She smiles. “I talk to my parents pretty regularly, and my older brother occasionally. He’s involved in this world too. He was in the Army originally, but now he does whatever it is he does.”
You’re surprised by her answer. Not so much that she still talks to her family, but that she’s familiar with this world. It makes sense, how easily she existed in it, beyond just being a professional. “Do you think it had something to do with you being chosen for this position?” You ask.
“Most likely.” She grins. “Laswell probably wanted someone who is at least a little familiar with this world, but also someone she knew would work well with you.”
“I think she made the right choice.” You say. It’s the truth. You like Dr. Keller. You trust her. You’ve grown comfortable in her presence and you look forward to your appointments with her. It almost makes you feel bad for withholding the truth from her.
“Good. I think so too.” She says. “So, did anything exciting happen this week?”
You chew on your lip nervously, your hands disappearing into your sleeves as your face warms a bit. “Johnny and I...had our first time together.”
“Oh?” Her eyebrows raise. “And that’s something you wanted?”
You nod. “Yeah. I’d like to get close to all of them, well, as close as Ghost will let me get.” You bite your lip again. “Ghost...gave me some pointers on how to handle Johnny. It worked. He...let me take control. I liked it.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Dr. Keller says. “I think it’s great that you’ve discovered this about yourself. I know omegas are so used to being controlled in society. I think it’s great that you’ve found a place where perhaps you can take a little control back.”
She’s not wrong. Your entire life has been dictated for you, controlled by someone else. The baton of control was just continually passed from your father, to the institute, to the CIA, and now to John. Though John has granted you the most freedom of everyone that’s held control over you, there’s still requirements for obedience and submission to him. You’ll never be your own person. That’s just the way society works, and you’ve come to accept that.
Yet, you’ve never felt quite so powerful as you did in bed with Johnny, when you’d gripped him by the mohawk like Ghost had instructed you to. When you saw the change in his eyes as you took over, controlling him, telling him what to do. You liked it, exerting control over someone else for a change. He just let you do it. It still sends a thrill down your spine at the thought of the possibilities, the things you can do now that you’ve discovered this part of yourself. You’d never show it in public, but behind closed doors...
The book was right. Perhaps omegas can be powerful.
“What are we doing?” You ask, staring up at John as he straps a tactical vest onto your body.
“We’re doing an exercise, and you’re going to help us.” He answers, double checking the vest before putting a helmet on your head. “Think of it as hide and seek mixed with tag.” He finishes strapping the helmet to your head, taking a step back. “How does it feel?”
“Heavy.” You feel weighed down with the vest and the helmet.
“You’ll get used to it.” He says with a smile, guiding you towards the door of the warehouse.
It’s dark inside, nearly pitch black except for the light coming in from the open door. There’s fake walls set up in front of you, with space just in the middle like a sort of hallway that disappears into the darkness.
“Your job is to get from this side of the warehouse, to the other without getting caught.” John says. “No weapons, just you trying to evade us and get to the other side while we try and catch you,” John lowers the goggles on the top of the helmet, the world coming alive in shades of green around you. “And night vision goggles. Be smart about it. Understood?”
You nod, looking around with the goggles, trying to adapt to using them. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. You have a thirty second head start. Use it wisely.”
He leaves the warehouse, closing the door behind him. You’re left in complete darkness, with no sound but a fan running somewhere, probably to dampen any sounds that might echo. You stand there for a moment, trying not to breathe too heavily, as it might echo in the warehouse. You stare at the door behind you for a second before you begin to move forward, the adrenaline starting to pump. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they catch you. Are they working together or individually? What kind of strategy will they use? What strategy will you use?
You begin to pick up speed, running until you reach the end of the first hallway. It splits off in both directions, and you hesitate for a moment. Be smart about it. You don’t have many advantages in this situation. They’ve done this before, both in training and probably in the field as well. They’re highly skilled soldiers, trained to hunt down people in all sorts of environments, sometimes with nothing more than their scent.
Scent.
Of course.
You take off down the right hallway, following it as it twists and turns like a maze. A giant maze. There’s so many hallways, so many places to run, but not many to hide. That’s not the point, though. You have to get to the other side of the warehouse before they do. You have to track your way through this maze without getting caught by four special operations soldiers.
Simple enough.
You pause at a corner, undoing your vest so you can slip your sweatshirt off. You’re just putting your vest back on when the door opens, bathing the ceiling with light for a moment. It’s started. They’re inside. You can’t hear anything over the hum of the fan, and that’s almost more terrifying to you than if you had been able to hear them. The adrenaline is pumping now as you toss your sweatshirt in the corner before quickly backtracking and heading a different direction.
You try to keep your breathing quiet as you weave through the maze, doubling back and touching the walls every so often to try and leave your scent behind and confuse them. You take deep breaths through your nose as you go, trying to catch any whiff of them, any sign that you might have crossed their path or be getting close to them. They’ll reach the same area of the maze as you’re in eventually, sooner rather than later. You need to start pressing forward. You’re not just evading them, you have to reach the other side before they catch you.
You slip around a corner, pressing up against the wall as something moves behind you. You hold your breath, quiet footsteps passing by your position. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, the instinctual fear of being hunted rising in you. You take a couple of quiet deep breaths, slipping your shoes off to grab your socks before slipping them back on. You peek around the corner, finding nothing.
You toss one of your socks in the corner before doubling back, pausing as you cross one of their scents. Johnny. You recognize the citrusy tang in the air. Christ, you’ve never heard him be that quiet before. You continue on, your heart racing in your chest as you carefully weave around corners, slipping through hallways. They’re close to you now. They could be around any corner.
You pause as you cross the scent of leather and musk, something prickling in the back of your mind. It’s a fresh scent. You pause for a moment, looking in the direction he went before slipping around the corner. You still have your other sock clutched in your hand, knuckles white as you grip it tightly.
You should be nearing the end. The warehouse isn’t that big, even with all the doubling back and dodging you’ve been doing. You toss your other sock in a corner haphazardly as you decide to stop doubling back and go for the exit. You have to try and get ahead of them, as well as find your way through the maze to the exit door.
Simple enough.
Except, you have no idea which direction the exit is, or which direction you’re heading. You could be going backwards for all you know. You weave through the halls, around the corners, focusing on finding the end of the maze.
In your concentration you fail to notice the scent, weaving through the halls mindlessly as you attempt to reach the end of the maze. You pay for it as the sound of boots on the concrete floor rushes up behind you. You let out a startled shriek of surprise as your feet leave the floor, your body ragdolling over someone’s shoulder.
“Got her!” He yells out, weaving around a couple corners before light floods the warehouse, making you wince.
Your squint as your feet hit the ground again, the night vision goggles lifted from your face. Your nose crinkles as you stare up at Kyle’s smug face, his lips pulled up in a smirk.
“No fair.” You pout. “I was so close!”
“You were, but you got sloppy at the end there.” He says, undoing the strap of your helmet to help you take it off. You’re sweaty underneath it, hair sticking to your forehead. You’re glad you ditched your sweatshirt now.
“Not bad.” John says, exiting the warehouse, Ghost and Johnny following. “Nice strategy.” He says, tossing your sweatshirt to you.
You shrug, hugging it to your chest. “Had to think fast with what I had on hand.”
“Running around with no socks on too.” Ghost says, holding up your socks.
“Left you a little present. You can keep them if you want.” You smirk.
“Don’t want your nasty socks.” He grumbles, tossing them to you.
“That was fun.” You say, grinning up at them. “Like being hunted.” You don’t miss the quiet rumble in John’s chest at your words, his eyes darkening just a bit. “Can someone help me out of this now though,” You say, reaching for the velcro straps on the vest. “It’s squishing my boobs.”
The TV is playing some show, but you're not really paying attention. You haven't been, not for a while now. Your adrenaline had still been pumping a bit after your participation in the exercise earlier, putting you on edge the rest of the day. It had been a bit thrilling, the idea of being hunted like that. You can understand now how omegas enjoy being hunted, beyond just the inevitable end.
The thought of that being how the exercise ended, all four of them at once, out where anyone could see you...your skin begins to prickle as heat blossoms in your veins. Kyle would get to take you first because he won, he caught you so easily. Would John go second, or would he allow the other members of his pack to go first? Ghost would be rough, taking you from behind, hands bruising on your hips. Your teeth sink into your lip as you imagine him over you, a position you often found yourself in during your training with him. He's just so big, so strong. They all are.
You won't be able to control yourself during training if you keep going down that thought path.
John would be gentle, piecing you back together after the others have had their way with you. He'd take care of you, like a good alpha, dragging one more orgasm out of you after you think you can't anymore.
You let out a shaky breath, trying to calm your scent. You're stinking up the rec room with your fantasies. You turn your head to look at the TV, trying to focus on what's happening on the screen in an effort to distract yourself.
It doesn't work, the subtle dampness between your thighs ever present on your mind. You have half a mind to get up and seek out Kyle, but like a miracle he appears in the doorway of the rec room. You see his nostrils flare, the lift of his shoulders as he inhales. He can smell your arousal, the spike in the sweetness of your scent. You have no doubt about that. He doesn't say anything, though, instead he approaches the couch silently, kneeling at the end.
He settles himself on top of you, resting his head on your chest. He lets out a breath as he settles, keeping some of his weight off of you, but he's still pressed against you like a weighted blanket. You fight the urge to shift beneath him, to press your hips up against him, to seek any ounce of relief for the warmth between your thighs.
You're not sure he's watching the TV either as he lays there, relaxed over you. Your fingers trail patterns across his back, gliding over his soft shirt. He's in blue today, one of your favorite colors on him. He looks good in anything, the perks of being pretty, but blue is one of your favorite colors on him.
It's silent between you for a while, Kyle relaxed above you while you fight to relax beneath him. If he’s affected at all by your scent, he hides it well. You have half a mind to ask him to take pity on you, to slip his hand beneath your sweatpants and ease the ache between your thighs. He had said whenever you wanted it. All you have to do is ask.
You shift slightly beneath him, lifting your hand to his head. “Kyle?” You ask, gently trailing your fingers over his scalp. He'd gotten his hair buzzed recently, the curly strands shorter than normal.
He hums in response, the sound rumbling through your body from where his head rests on your chest. When you don't reply right away he lifts his head, blinking up at you with those big brown eyes.
“Kiss me?” You ask.
Your heart starts to race as he pulls himself closer to you, his body dragging against yours. His eyes dart to your lips before they look back into yours for a moment. He leans down, slipping his arms underneath your back as he closes the gap between you. His lips are soft against yours, his kisses gentle and controlled as he holds you like you might break in his grasp.
“Kyle?” You murmur against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck.
He hums again in response, pulling away just slightly to stare down at you.
“‘M not gonna break.” You say, dragging your nails over his scalp again. “Kiss me like you mean it.”
His lips twitch in a smirk before he leans down, pressing his lips hard against yours. It’s a searing kiss that nearly steals your breath away. His tongue prods at your lips, and you part them to allow him in. He tastes like the tea he had been drinking after dinner, rich and earthy with a hint of sweetness from the sugar he added. You moan softly into his mouth as his tongue flicks against your own, your thighs squeezing around his waist at the thought of that tongue between your legs.
He smirks against your lips as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking, his body shifting over yours so he can press one of his thighs between your legs. You move instinctively, your hips grinding against his thigh. Finally you're getting some friction, some relief from the ache.
“Fuck.” He breathes, pulling you tighter against his chest. “That’s it.” He groans, pressing his thigh harder against your grinding hips. “Gonna cum on my thigh, just like that?” He nips at your jaw, trailing kisses down the line towards your neck. “Haven’t even touched you yet.”
You try to muffle your moans as you continue to grind against his thigh, the friction on your clit pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Kyle?” You gasp out, gripping the back of his shirt. “Gonna fuck me on the rec room couch?”
He lifts his head from your neck, staring down at you for a moment. “Fuck, you’re right. Your room or mine?”
“Yours.” You say, hanging on for dear life as he scoops you up off the couch, wrapping your legs around his waist.
He walks you to his room, carrying you the entire way. He kicks the door shut, beelining for his bed. He drops you down on the mattress, your body bouncing as he hastily peels his shirt off, revealing an expanse of smooth skin marked here and there by scars. You immediately reach out, trailing your fingers over his skin. It’s just as soft as it looks, your fingers trailing the lines of his muscles.
His hand flattens over yours as it reaches his chest, pressing it into his warm skin as he leans down, kissing you again. His hands slip under your thighs, lifting you and switching your positions so he’s seated on the bed, and you’re in his lap.
“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He says, looking up at you.
“I think it’s been mentioned before.” You say with a shrug, smiling down at him.
“It’s the truth.” He says, slipping his hands under your shirt. “Deserve to hear it all the time.”
“Bunch of handsome men complimenting me constantly?” You say, lifting your arms over your head so he can remove your shirt. “Can’t complain about that.”
“Luckiest men in the world.” He says, smoothing his hands across your back as he presses his face into your throat. “Pretty little omega.”
You shiver as his teeth nip at your skin, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. You arch against his chest, pressing yourself closer. There’s a bulge in his pants, a shiver of pride running through you at the thought that you did that to him. You elicited such a reaction from him.
“I never properly thanked you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“For what?” He asks, staring up at you curiously.
“For taking such good care of me during my heat. Couldn’t have been easy, seeing me like that, knowing you couldn’t even touch me.” You grind your hips against his, his teeth sinking into his lip as you grind against his bulge. “Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself while thinking about me?”
“Too many to count, love.” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours. “Sounded so sweet, getting ruined by our alpha.”
“Been so patient, waiting for this.” You gasp, still rocking in his lap, the wetness between your thighs intensifying from the friction. “Tell me how you want me.”
“Sit on my face.” He growls, pushing you off his lap so he can lay down on the bed.
You shove your pants and underwear down your legs, fighting the urge to be bashful. Kyle has already seen you at your most vulnerable, been up close and personal with your most private parts. Yet, it feels different like this. More intimate, and less of a necessity.
You take his hand as he offers it, letting him guide you to kneel over his face. You grip the headboard as you hover over him, his hands settling on your hips.
“Wait-” You say, before he can pull you down onto his face. “What if I suffocate you?”
“Then I’ll die a happy man.” He says, tugging you down onto his mouth.
You let out a gasp as his tongue drags through your folds, already soaked from his teasing. His tongue flicks across your clit, eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. Your hips jerk when his mouth closes around your clit, suckling at it with a lewd smack of his lips.
“Fuck!” You gasp, grinding your hips against his face as he continues to tease your clit, drawing patterns on it with his tongue.
You’re close already, your legs trembling around his head. He holds you steady, keeping you still above him as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it harshly. Your knees attempt to squeeze around his head as you cum, soaking his face with a cry. He continues to lap at your folds, licking up every last bit of your release before he finally lets you move off his face.
You drop to the side, staring down at him as you try to catch your breath. He licks his lips, his face shiny with your juices. He reaches a hand over, tangling his fingers in your hair as he pulls your face down to his, kissing you. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue and lips, already starting to get wet again.
Kyle wraps his arms around you, flipping you onto your back under him. He hovers over you, the bulge in his pants very visible, even from this position.
“Sweet little omega.” He says, nipping at your lips. “So fucking perfect.”
“Kyle,” You gasp, pulling him down into a kiss. “Need you.”
“I got you.” He soothes you, pressing another kiss to your lips before he sits back on his knees between your legs, staring down at you. He drags his fingers through your folds, still just as slick as they had been before your orgasm. “So fucking wet.” He groans, hastily undoing his belt and pants, kicking them off the end of the bed.
You stare at him in awe, his cock just as beautiful as he is. Long and thick, curved just slightly. You can’t help but ogle him as he wraps a hand around the base, squeezing it. He’s hard, raging hard, the tip leaking precum already. He really has been so patient, waiting for this. You almost feel bad making him wait so long, but he had agreed to be patient, if only to keep Johnny from making everyone’s lives miserable with his pouting if he didn’t get to go first.
It’s only fair that you let Johnny go first too, considering Kyle will likely be the one you spend the most time with. It’s only natural, thanks to your bond with John. Kyle’s your beta, just as much as John is your alpha. You’d like Johnny to be your beta too, but you know without that bond with Ghost, it’ll never feel quite the same as it does with Kyle. Regardless, you’ll continue to treat Johnny as if he was your beta.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Kyle asks, watching you as you get lost in thought.
You truly do it at the worst possible times.
You lift your gaze to his, staring into those big brown eyes. “Just waiting on you to hurry up and fuck me.”
You let out a yelp as Kyle’s hand smacks your inner thigh, the sound cracking through the room.
“Don’t get cheeky now.” He warns, rubbing the spot on your skin that’s quickly turning warm from his smack. “Just making sure you’re alright.”
“Fine.” You say, spreading your legs further for him. “Be better if you finally fucked me.”
Your laugh is broken by a moan as he drags his head through your folds, his hand falling to grip your waist.
“That needy for me, huh?” He asks, teasingly pressing the tip of his cock into you before pulling back.
“Just worried you might not make it since you’ve waited so long.” You gasp, trying to move your hips to take him deeper into you, but he pins you with the hand on your hip.
“Careful what you wish for.” He says, the warning clear in his tone. You handled Johnny just fine, you can certainly handle Kyle.
You hope.
He finally takes pity on you, sinking his cock deeper into you. You moan at the stretch, flopping back on the bed as you try to relax around him. He rolls his hips in short thrusts, sinking deeper and deeper as you open up to him. You reach for him as he sinks even further into you, his body folding over yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring up at him as he seats himself completely inside you, hips pressed flush against yours.
“Hi.” You breathe, getting lost in his soft gaze.
“Hi, love.” He grins down at you, fingers brushing your cheeks as he leans on his elbows above you. “Doing alright?”
You nod, squeezing around him. “Yeah. Feels good.”
“Good.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Been waiting so long for this. Feels better than I imagined.”
You let out a quiet whine, clenching around him again. The thought of him imagining this, trying to picture what you’d look like, what you’d feel like while he waited patiently for his turn has your body burning hot. You shift your hips below him, causing him to move inside you.
“Kyle?” You breathe, shifting again. “Please move.”��
“I got you, love.” He smiles down at you, pulling his hips back before slowly pressing forward again.
Your head falls back as he moves, keeping his pace slow and languid. Heat burns through your veins, your very nerve endings alive as he slowly rolls his hips into you. Something thrums in the back of your mind, the mark on your shoulder almost tingling as you stare up at him, your fingers trailing over the mark on his shoulder, a mirror of the one on your own. A shudder runs through him as your fingers brush the scar, his lips parting in a low groan. You clench around him at the sight of such unbridled pleasure on his face, pulling him closer against your body.
He drags your pleasure out as he makes love to you, slow and passionate and deliberate with every movement. You know you won’t last much longer, the sensations beginning to overwhelm you.
“I’m close.” You breathe into Kyle’s ear, pressing kisses across his neck. “Don’t stop.”
“Gonna cum for me?” He groans, keeping his thrusts steady. “Gonna let me see that beautiful face as you come undone for me?”
Your back arches as you cum, pushed over the edge by his words. Your nails bite into his shoulders, but he offers no complaint as he continues to roll his hips into yours, working you through your orgasm as he chases his own. His pace picks up slightly as he gets closer and closer to the edge, your eyes on his face, wanting to watch him now.
“Your turn.” You breathe, still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm as you clench around him.
His head tilts back, lips parted in a deep moan as his hips jerk. His cock twitches inside you, his thrusts getting sloppy as he cums. You trail your hands over his back, sinking your teeth into your lip as you watch his face morph into complete bliss. You’ve never seen anything quite so beautiful.
He collapses on top of you, just managing to keep his weight off of you thanks to his elbows planted on the bed beside your head. You continue to rub his back, fingers tracing the smooth, sweat slicked skin, only pausing to trace the scars that you find. Kyle presses soft kisses to your face, slowly trailing lower across your jaw and neck. He presses a kiss to your mark, a shudder running through you. He lets out a groan as you clench around him, shifting so he’s face to face with you again.
“Give me a minute.” He says, slipping out of you as he presses a kiss to your lips.
“Tired already?” You ask cheekily.
“No,” He says, kissing you again before slowly sliding down your body. “Just need a minute to catch my breath. Besides,” He settles between your thighs, pressing them open so he’s face to face with your pussy. “I’ve got a mess to clean up.”
You stand outside the door of John’s office, brows pulled into a frown. You have a feeling you already know what he’s going to say, yet your mind keeps reeling, coming up with the most fantastical ideas as to why you were summoned to his office in the middle of the day. It’s weird that he’s in his office in the middle of the day. Usually they’d be off training, but he’d pulled them all into a meeting this morning after breakfast, one that had gone into your usual lunch time, and then they hadn’t gone to train after you finally got to eat.
“Come in.”
Your hand pauses on the handle as you hesitate, almost as if you could prevent what’s going to happen by just not going in. It’s a ridiculous thought. Avoiding this will only likely get you into trouble.
You step into the office, the air inside different from any of the other times you’ve been in his office. John’s face looks grim and focused behind his desk, and it’s not hard to tell you’re not facing John right now, you’re facing Captain Price.
You take the seat across from him at his desk when he motions to it, trying to fight the tears threatening to brim in your eyes as you stare at him. You won’t cry. You knew this was going to happen eventually. You knew going in what was going to inevitably happen. You had been well prepared for this part of your new reality, yet you don’t want to acknowledge it now that you’re staring it in the face.
“I know you’ve likely already figured out what’s going on.” He says, his voice gruff and deeper than normal.
You can see it in his face. He’s fighting his own battle with having to tell you. You hadn’t expected it, to see him struggle with it. He knew it as well as you did. He knew it better than you did, and yet, you can see the turmoil behind that focused gaze.
He lets out a sigh as he continues, hands closing into fists on his desk, his tone almost apologetic. The words sting despite the fact you had known they were coming, despite the fact you had expected them when you walked into the office. “This morning we had a debrief for a new assignment. We’ll be leaving tonight. All four of us.”
Taglist:
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#x reader#Kyle gaz Garrick x reader#gaz x reader#John price x reader#captain price x reader#Johnny soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#Simon Riley x reader#Simon ghost riley x reader#a/b/o#alpha/beta/Omega dynamics#omegaverse
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kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader
Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he takes the step up into the front door. It gets caught on the latch, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside.
“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?”
Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light.
Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat.
He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside.
It’s good to be home.
He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated.
“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone.
“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.
He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive.
He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways.
Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.
Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves.
When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate.
Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m twenty minutes away.
You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast.
Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently.
You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in.
“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness.
You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side.
“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.”
You smile into his palm but don’t say anything.
“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.
You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.
“Did you…” Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?”
“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”
You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”
“All dinners are your best.”
You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.
“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.”
“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?”
“She won’t let me eat.”
Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.”
“What are you gonna do, H?”
He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, of course. What can I do?”
He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.”
You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for.
“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you.
“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.”
Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.
“You love eggs.”
“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks.
“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?”
“Avery’s always nice.”
Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.”
Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”
“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.”
Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.”
You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”
Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away.
“You comfortable enough?” he asks.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.”
“But you had fun, right?”
“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.”
“Exhausted?” you ask.
“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.”
“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.”
“You did not.”
You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”
Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy).
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.”
Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek.
“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.”
“Love you, Steve.”
“Love you, too.”
#kisses before dinner universe#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#dad!steve harrington#dad!steve harrington x reader#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader#steve harrington x afab!reader#afab!reader#mom!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fluff
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Disclaimer
I am not the biggest fan of dc but I do know the story and everything, so if any character from the batfamily is wrong please tell me so I will try to fix it.
Another story of Neglect
You were another one of Bruce's children, born by one of his nightstands with a model to which he just gave child support and didn't really visit.
You never cared, you didn't even know that he was your father since you were happy with just your mom and the life you were living at the moment, but everything changed because of a stupid drunk driver that ended up crashing the car against your mom's one and killing both of them at the impact. You were only 12 and your life just changed in one night.
You had no one else, or at least no one that could take you in since everyone was busy or couldn't be bothered to have another mouth to feed so you ended up in front of Wayne's Manor, two suitcases full of stuff plus all the boxes from your old room and house that you managed to save from the relatives who tried to grab everything valuable in the house.
After getting in your room and setting everything up, making sure your photos with your mom and you were safe and sound, you tried to interact with your new family, wanting to make the best out of a bad situation but you didn't think that they would be so different from what you saw in the media.
•Bruce Wayne: you heard that he was a playboy but very nice to his kids, you saw how he looked at Damian or Dick, a look full of love and adoration that your mom used to give it to you.
But to you, he looked at you like you were just a nuisance that wasn't supposed to be here, he made sure to tell you the first day that you came here to not expect much since he wouldn't have the time to take care of every small needs and to just tell him or Alfred if you wanted to do something out of the school activities since you would be changing schools.
You tried to interact with him, to learn from what he likes so you could just try and hold a conversation with him but he always left you behind for another one of his kids that needed him at the moment, leaving you there with a small smile and just a small light of hope that maybe he will come back to talk to you.
But he never did.
•Richard/Dick Grayson: you thought he was the nicest big brother you ever seen, especially from what you saw him talking or playing with Damian, Tim or even Jason.
(You did find out pretty soon that they were the famous vigilantes since they didn't really keep it hidden from you, especially since you saw them in costumes and even training while they ignored you or didn't even notice your presence.)
You tried to talk to him but he was just like Bruce, leaving you for Damian mostly or using any excuse to not spend time with you.
Even when you tried to ask him to do some acrobatics since you knew he was from the circus, he just gave you an excuse 'sorry but it's been a while since Damian and Tim saw me and I wanted to go out with them, maybe next time (wrong/name)", leaving you before you even had the time to correct him about your name.
•Jason Todd: honestly he was the most decent family member, second to Alfred who treated you better whenever you were left alone, since he just straight up told you that he didn't care and to not bother with him.
You did try a few more times, thinking he was one with a tough exterior but a softie inside, thinking that he just needed time but him accidentally punching you in the face and leaving you with a black eye from you walking up behind him made you understand that he didn't care, especially with the way that he looked at you with an annoyed expression before walking away.
At least you didn't have to spend months trying to gain his favor, he already made it clear that he didn't care about you.
But it still hurts you know?
• Tim Drake: he was the only one you couldn't really put a pin on who he really is, not of some double life or something like that.
It's just that sometimes he would act nice, talking to you but the next time you would see him, even if the time passed between the two intervals could be of 1 hour, he would act like you were an annoying thing or would just ignore you.
You understood that he was sleep deprived and just started leaving him some candies that could help him sleep, wanting to help in a small way, especially since he was the only one you could actually help a little.
And the last, but especially the worst one was none other than Damian Wayne/al Ghul since he first acted like you were gonna steal something from him, especially considered that you were a year or two older than him.
He harassed you, using his animals or just his assassin skills to torment you for years even though you never gave him reasons to do so.
Not more than once you had to patch yourself in the bathroom because of his harassment, the scars still visible but luckily in places you could hide so no one would question you for them.
After two or three years he finally stopped and went to be one of the family members to give you attention to completely ignore your existence, acting like you weren't even someone worthy of his attention.
You always wanted to just hit him back but it would be relatively impossible to even try to land a hit on him because of his assassin training that he had.
But one thing you still had that connected you to your old life, to when you were happy and still with someone who loved you was dancing, which you still went to practice everyday and tried to invite your family but everyone was either busy or straight up told you that they didn't care.
Only Alfred would show up but it was also rare, but it would fill your heart with joy everytime you saw him in the audience of whatever ballet you were casted in, even if you weren't the main protagonist and just a side character.
You also tried to be the best in school, just to show it to Bruce and make him proud like your mother was whenever you were in the top but with a family filled with geniuses like Tim Drake and Damian Wayne, it was difficult to even compare to them.
But every day, you still had hope that maybe, if you opened the doors of your heart they will finally enter and make you part of the family.
That you can finally be accepted again, and maybe even join them in their vigilante jobs but alas, they always had excuses, excuses and even more excuses.
You were getting tired of all their excuses.
After a while you understand that maybe the problem is not you, it never was.
You opened up many times in the past years. You gave them every piece of your broken heart to hold but they would always break it in even more little pieces.
But, not everything always goes to plan does it?
So, instead of continuing to try, you also decided to ignore them back and live your life, counting the days of your eighteen birthday so you could finally get out and be free from the mansion you were supposed to call home.
Part 2 is here!
#yandere batfam x reader#yandere batfam#yandere batfamily#batboys x reader#dc universe#spiderman#platonic yandere#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere batman#yandere dc
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Lost & Found
Parental!DogDay & Child!Reader
A/N: Hey there! First post, I know, but I couldn’t help but share this. A friend of mine encouraged me to, so I hope other people like it as well! This is only the first part and I have much more planned for this story, I hope you enjoy! I know this ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but that may or may not be intentional. Find Part 2 here!
Spoilers for Poppy Playtime Chapter 3: Deep Sleep!
Warnings: Mentions of character death, blood, gore, and the like. Child experimentation will also be mentioned. This story will contain references to the information in the game as well, if uncomfortable with any of those topics then please proceed with caution.
________________________________________________
DogDay and the others knew well that something was amiss in the building, several of the Smiling Critters had sought him out due to the fact that he was the leader. CatNap was the only one that had been distant for a long time now, becoming something that he couldn’t recognize.
And then it happened. The Hour of Joy. The metallic scent of blood was something he could never rid his nose of, his ears still rang from the sound of screaming from both children and adults. The Prototype had clearly been convincing the cat of the Smiling Critters, for nothing but praises fell out for the creature amongst that dreaded red gas that poured out of his perpetually gaping maw.
DogDay had been able to reach the others first, encouraging them to not stand idly by and follow something as monstrous as The Prototype and his newly fashioned pawn.
It ended poorly, their rebellion was met with nightmarish hallucinations and a set of claws that sliced their bodies to ribbons.
Even they were not impervious to the red gas that covered the ground like a dense fog, announcing CatNap’s presence before he could be seen. Few of them remained, far less than what once was. They rotated hideouts regularly, knowing well that they had to keep moving to avoid CatNap’s patrols.
Currently, the place they had sought refuge in was some long abandoned room of the orphanage. Those that remained were silent.
CraftyCorn was frantically drawing something on a dirtied sheet of paper, the colors bleeding against her hooves as she struggled to keep a steady grip.
Bobby BearHug was huddled in a corner, clutching a blanket that was shredded in places and nearly fell apart as she held it to her chest, her body shook from silent sobs or perhaps fear of what would come.
DogDay himself was solemn, resting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. They had just lost Hoppy days prior, or at least it had seemed like days. Any semblance of a concept of time was lost in this pit of despair, the inability to even catch a glimpse of light that wasn’t artificial was disheartening and disorienting. The others in the room were in no state to actively patrol, their minds in shambles and in various states of decay.
There was no optimism to be found, he knew that. Any attempt to even lighten the mood would be met with dismay and the kind of disgust that caused nausea to wash over oneself and clouded any other senses. They had lost far too many for any form of joy to be found.
CatNap may have been the one to end their lives, following the guiding hand of The Prototype, but their blood was also on his hands. Their screams kept him awake, the fear in their voices as they called out and weeped for help kept him going.
Slowly, he rose from his seated position to his feet, the sun pendant that hung from his zipper clinked against the metal with the motion and swung gently before resting against his chest. It was enough of a sound to draw the eyes of CraftyCorn, to which DogDay gave a dip of his head. “I’m sorry to startle you, that wasn’t my intention,” he started, voice rough and scratchy from disuse as he met the eyes of the other.
“I’ll take the first watch, be safe and try to get some rest, please.” The please sounded pathetic in his own ears, a sign that despite his attempts to remain strong for the other survivors, he was suffering from the grief and loss of their shared companions.
The idea of losing them too was something he refused to linger on, a small sliver of hope remained in his heart despite the horrors that threatened their very lives.
CraftyCorn didn’t seem to mind the interruption, even going as far as lowering her hooves as she looked over at him, the red crayon in her grasp rolled to the floor with a quiet thump. “Be careful, DogDay.” Her voice was soft, it was a comfort in this trying time. As gentle as the very petals of the flower she once smelled like, an extension of her kind yet hardy nature.
He wanted to reassure her, to give her some hope that he might return. But that wasn’t a guarantee, he knew that.
Regardless, he nodded before approaching the door, opening it slightly before listening carefully for any sounds. Relieved to have been met with relative silence, he crept through the door before shutting it behind him. Complete silence was impossible for him to achieve, given his size and the overall state of the orphanage itself.
His movements were slow and deliberate, each placement of his hand or foot was mindful of the debris that lined the halls. Shattered picture frames with glass littering the floor and various toys that had once belonged to the children here were a common item to stumble across. There had been moments when the odd toy activated or some rotting piece of wood snapped under the pressure of a bed that rested upon it, but it was silent other than that.
His ears were active in keeping note of his surroundings, as his nose focused on the horrible scent of lavender and the intensity of it. It stuck to every crack and crevice of this building, yet it was relatively faint at the given moment, a positive in an otherwise grim situation. His eyes swept every open door that he passed by, peering into the room for several moments before moving on. To say he was tense and alert was an understatement, every fiber of his being stood on edge as he patrolled the halls.
He froze in his tracks as a sound caught his attention, a sound that he hadn’t been expecting to come across. It had been a sob, a shuddering and weak sound that left from an open door in front of him. Had he not been focused as intently as he was, he could’ve missed it. DogDay stayed in that position as he listened further, making sure that he hadn’t been imagining such a sound. His doubts were shattered as he heard the sound repeat, the fear in the weeping was unmistakable.
The thought didn’t even cross his mind that it could potentially be a trap, that some sick monster would be willing to mimic such a heartbreaking sound.
#dogday#poppy playtime#deep sleep#catnap#gender neutral reader#mute reader#child reader#wholesome#fluff#smiling critters#craftycorn#bobby bearhug#smiling critters & reader#x reader#smiling critters x reader#dogday x reader#craftycorn x reader#bobby bearhug x reader#poppy playtime x reader#poppy playtime x child reader#fanfic#lost & found
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Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part II
Warnings: I haven't read the book (yet), Coriolanus thoughts, mentions of poverty, mentions of violence
Summary: Coriolanus thought he would never see you again after you won the Games and he got banished to the districts. But when he does, he is left to question whether or not he can imagine a life with(out) you.
Words: around 2k
Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader
A/N: You all asked for it so here it is: Part 2! Thank you so much for all the love on the first one. It truly blew me away!! I really hope you like this part just as much. I tried to capture Coriolanus inner conflict here. Also there will be a third and final part! :)
Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here
Part I | Masterlist
He hadn't thought he would ever see you again. Not after the gamemaster had sent for him once the games were over and he had found the evidence against him placed on a table.
Evidence that he had helped you, although the rules forbid it.
He had known. There was no denying that and it was below his dignity to pretend so. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do except stare at that evidence and wonder if it had been worth it.
If you had been worth it. Ruining his life.
As he had watched you crumble under his painfilled screams in the arena he had been sure to have ruined yours, but now he figured it might have been mutual.
It was what happened in the games, was a part of it. Only he had never been one and there was a sick feeling inside of him as he thought of how he had been used, had used you, had used resources to save you despite the knowledge that it crossed a line.
It was easy to watch the games and all the ways they manipulated people. Turned children into killers and brought out the deepest, darkest parts of humans. How they got manipulated in turn, by the gamemakers and the capitol. Even their mentors. And sometimes how they manipulated the public and the capitol in an act of quiet revolution.
It was oddly fascinating in a way, to see through those lies and perceptions and untangle them. Like they were all pieces on a chess board and he just had to watch them push each other around, taking out one by one.
But to find out that he had been a part of it too, that he had been played made him feel like just another pawn.
But you had won. Even if he would pay the price for it now, he had gotten you through the games. It filled him with pride and a little...relief to know that he had kept his promise.
He hated not knowing if you were safe now, but at least he had held his word. If something happened to you now, it wasn't on him.
But then why was there no comfort in that thought?
Why did there seem to be no comfort ever again, with you gone and his life torn to shreds. All his hopes and dreams crushed within one night.
Had it been worth it?
It didn't matter if he had done it for the scholarship or to save you. But then why did he suddenly feel filled with doubts?
All his life there had only been two colours: black and white. There was no grey, because he firmly believed in wright or wrong. He thought it pathetic when people weeped over the games and how tragic they were, yet found the uttermost entertainment in them.
The games served a purpose and they promised him one of his own, a university career, so he served them. It didn’t matter what he thought about it.
But now he seemed captured in between those two opposites. He knew rationally that it had been wrong to manipulate your chances so you could win. And he saw now where it had gotten him.
But wouldn't he do the same again?
Being with you, gazing into your eyes and wishing you were by his side was wrong. You came from two different worlds and the odds were against you. But then how had he turned into this man, thinking about a woman, letting his feelings guide his decisions and cloud his judgement?
And it went beyond the grey.
When you had stepped into his life you had introduced colours to it he had never seen before.
Red, not the university red, but the colours of your lips, the blood driping down your arms.
Blue, not the lifeless district blue, but the dress you had worn when you had sang during your interview and he haid laid in a hospital bed, mesmerized by your every word and sound.
Brown, the colour of dirt and poverty, but seemed to exist in uncountable shades on you.
And now that had all been ripped from him, just because he had played smarter than the other students.
His days as a peacekeeper were as dull and lonely as he had expected. He kept his gaze narrow, his weapon close and he didn't let his mind wander.
Because then he would mourn all he had lost and it would turn to anger. Fury. A turmoil of emotion he didn't know how to handle.
Sometimes he wondered if his life had only existed in polarity before and you had shown him spectra and ranges he had never learned to balance.
And it made him mad. At you. Because how dare you show him what love and lust felt like, how light it made him feel and how there seemed nothing else to exist in his thoughts anymore, only to rip it all away and show him the other side of it. The loss and the grief, the uncertanity and fear. The lacking.
Sometimes he wondered if he was going mad. Here he was damned to a life in the districts, a simple life, despite knowing he had been born for big things. It was in the name. Snow lands on top.
He pretended to be numb and hollow on the outside, but inside of him raged a storm of emotions that broke him bit by bit. Soon there would be not much left of his pride. To his sanity.
He had convinced himself he wasn't thinking about you anymore.
That his dreams of you were just evidence of his growing madness. And that the hopelessness he felt when he persuaded himself you were likely somewhere far away and not thinking of him anymore didn't exist.
But all the lies he had build opon came crashing down when he caught a glance of that blue, that red and brown and he knew. Knew without a doubt.
His hand was locked around your wrist before he could think about the movement and he dragged you away and into a dark alley, his big hand clasped over your mouth to swallow your screams and his body trapping yours against the wall.
His gaze flickered around to make sure no one saw you, then he allowed himself to look at you.
Your eyes were wide open, staring at him in a mixture of shock, fear and disbelief. Carefully he lowered his hand, his hand tangling in your hair. He had always wanted to do that.
But he didn't step away. He needed to make sure this was real, that you were real. “You're here."
You swallowed, eyes flickering over his face and then the uniform. You frowned, then carefully touched his head. "Your hair- it's gone."
"Not completely."
"It's short." You smiled and he felt his lips curve into one as well, all previous anger swallowed by the reality that you were here. That he hadn't lost everything. He had you know.
"Why are you here? Why are you one of them?" He ignored the way your tone changed and you practically spit out the word. "They found out how I helped you. It was against the rules."
He couldn't keep to himself any longer, not after he had fantasised about you for so long and his hand travelled over your neck, your jaw, cupped your cheek.
Finally, you were his.
He would have leaned down and kissed you, but the look in your eyes stopped him. "I thought you were hurt. I- I thought you were dead!"
Tears were shimmering in the soft light that the moon cast over your face and he caught them and wiped them away with his thumb when they spilled over your cheeks.
"It wasn't my voice in the arena. They used the birds to-" "I know that!" You let out a breath. "But everything they said- you said that to me. Word by word."
He waited silently for you to continue. "But then the screams-" "They weren't real", he tried to soothe you, but you shook your head. "But if everything else was, then...", you trailled of, but he knew what you thought anyway.
"They manipulated you. That's why they used my real words against you, to convince you that it was really me, my voice, so that you would believe everything."
"So they didn't-" You looked at him with so much fear that he almost smiled. "They didn't do anything to me. I sat there watching like I did the whole time."
"But then...how they did to it? And how did they listen to us all this time?"
He knew what you were really asking. Had he known? Had he known about it, but never thought it important enough to mention or worse had he intentionally not told you, because of his own motifs?
Shaking his head slightly he let out a sigh. "I don't know", he admittted. "How do they do anyting?"
You looked at him a second longer before nodding, deciding that you would trust him.
His hand ran down your arms now and he noted in satisfaction that you shivered under the touch. He was sure it had nothing to do with the cold.
"Where were you? After you won?"
After he had yelled at the game master to let you out. Many times.
"Here and there." You shrugged, but he wanted to know more. Needed to know more.
“That's not enough."
Would it ever be? Now that he was in the district and you were here too. Was that enough?
It wasn't the big house, the uniform and status. It wasn't Tigris smile. And it wasn't power.
It was just you and him, a whole lot of dirt, hunger and sickness. Lacking. Was that a life he could settle for?
Until now this had only been a station in his life. He would get back to the capitol and claim what belonged to him or else he would not see a future for himself.
But now things were different.
"I didn‘t know where to go. I thought after the games my life would be different, but I am still here and everything's the same except that I'm a killer.“
You closed your eyes and an expression of pain crossed your face. He let out a breath as he tried to soothe away the frown. "Don't say that." "But it's true." You looked at him with loathing in your eyes.
"You gave me the tools to kill and I used them. We’re both guilty."
"So? Everyone is. It's what needed to be done." He didn't get your fuss. All that mattered was you and him and you had gotten that.
"I would still make the same choices." "You would?" He nodded. "You matter more than them."
You frowned, heaviness in your eyes. "I don't." "To me you do."
It was true. He didn't know much, didn't understand these new feelings, but this one thing he could promise you was the truth.
Closing your eyes you leaned your foreheads against each other's, finding a glimmer of peace in each others presence. "To me you do too."
It was barely above a whisper, but he opened his eyes to search yours. For a moment you were locked in each other's gazes, but even though it felt like it in this moment, you would never have all the time in the world.
Cupping your cheek a final time Coriolanus closed the distance between you.
Your lips were dry and tasted a little like salt where the tears had touched them, but he savoured the feeling. Your body was trapped between the wall and his and he wanted to explore every part of it, make you completely and utterly his.
The kiss was all shades and ranges of colour he didn‘t know existed and he only knew he wanted more of it. It was addicting, this new feeling that only you seemed to hold the key to.
When you broke apart a sad smile hung on your lips. Before he could ask you about it you cast your eyes down. "They are talking about us. In the capitol. When they used your voice and I...fell for it- they made it into a whole story."
He closed his eyes. He had considered that possibility, yet he hated how he felt the control slipping from him. He had always contained an image and now he felt like other people were deciding it.
"They will forget about it." "They won't. You know it. I can't ever go back."
When he opened his eyes again he saw shock and understanding in yours. "But you...want to go back", you concluded and he didn't deny it. It had always been the scholarship for him, the way up.
He was a Snow, born into greatness. It was his duty to claim what should have been his all along.
You ducked away and took a step to the side, bringing a distance between your bodies he hated.
"This is not my life." You knew that, didn‘t you? Or had you expected him to give up everything for what…love? This feeling of lightness and colour and sweetness?
Even if it gave him a flicker of lust and the power he yearned for, it was not the same.
Because even if your love was strong enough, it would never exist without hunger, worry and a job below his worth. And he was tired, so tired of living like that.
That was why he had taken on the mentorship in the first place. Why he had even gone to such lengths to get the public to pay attention to you and then to save you.
For a different life. A better one. A life in the district was far from it.
Your eyes flickered around as you took in your own district. The one he had spent his last money on just for the possibility to see you again.
And you were standing right in front of him, yet you seemed even farer away now than you had in the arena.
"But it's mine."
Silence settled between you as both of you considered the meaning of your words.
"So all of this...for nothing? You say all these things to me, that you won't let me die and that I'm different and then you break the rules to save me only for what?!"
You shook your head furiously. Desperately. "So you can go back to the capitol and pretend this never happened?!"
He should have felt outrage, but for the first time since he had been sent to the gamemaster and learned his fate he felt numb inside.
"No."
You stared at him in bewilderment, your face a portrayal of the storm of emotion he had felt trapped inside of him for so long. "I would never pretend", he took a stride towards you.
“You changed me. And I think I changed you."
His hands found your face again and to his own surprise you let it happen. "We belong with each other."
You stared at him, a deep sadness in your eyes as you silently shook your head.
"Only not in this world", you whispered, ducking away from his touch and disappearing into the shadows without another word.
He stood there, staring at the spot you had vaished, a part of him leaving with you.
Part 3
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Hey love ur fics so muchhh was wondering if u could write a fic about g!p wanda and innocent fem reader, corruption kink ofcc. Reader hasn't even had her first kiss and Wanda teaches her how to tongue kiss and so much more(just v penetration no anal). Heavy breeding kink as well plsss
FOLLOW MY LEAD
PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader
WORD COUNT: 3,750
WARNINGS: smut, corruption kink, older!Wanda, innocence kink, breeding kink, Wanda has a dick, making out, kinda slow burn, age gap (legal), best friends mom!Wanda, sex in a pool, degrading, praise kink, cunnilingus, Mommy (W), mentions of masturbation and failed masturbation, some angst and fluff, think that’s all :)
NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!
Wanda watched with a smile as you licked the icing off of the cupcake she had given you. She had been inviting you over for weeks now and it’s been getting all the more difficult to ignore you. You were best friends with her twin boys and had been for a few years so them leaving for college wasn’t easy. They were both traveling across the state to study while you chose to stay back in your home region, Wanda couldn’t have been happier with your choice. You didn’t have many friends to spend time with in your lonely hours and the mother next door pitied you for it, or at least that’s what you thought.
In reality, she had been harboring a growing attraction towards you for months now. You never really saw her beforehand, she was often times on business trips or working at her home office during her children’s teen years. But you didn’t mind, she wasn’t the reason you spent so much time with Tommy and Billy, but now she was the only reason you had to visit the house you called home for so many years.
“The oven will be going off in just a moment, do you mind taking it out while I head to the bathroom?” You complied and she sent you a grateful smile along with a quick peck to your head that caused redness to paint your cheeks. Ever since your friends left you, you’ve been forced to notice all the moments you shared with the woman. She was beautiful, that was a fact. But not only did she bless you with her looks, she also was the only one who ever made you feel so safe and welcome. You couldn’t understand what you felt towards her, after all, she’s a woman, and you’ve never felt this way for the same gender.
All your life you were told to marry a man someday, to love him dearly and bear his children, but the more time you spent with her the more you realized that wasn’t what you wanted. You spent nights dreaming of her in many ways you wished you didn’t. There were times you’d be woken to a dampness on your panties when your consciousness blessed you with the images of her on top of you, kissing down your body before it ended. You just wanted to know what would happen next, and you were often left daydreaming about how it would go. It only brought a further amount of aching, but you didn’t know how to get rid of it. You were too afraid to do research so you suffered alone, praying that it would go away soon enough but it never did. No amount of praying or hoping could stop your needs.
Wanda was just as bad, only she knew ways to ease the ache. Nights were spent in her bed, alone, wishing you were next to her. She imagined waking up next to you, kissing across your face to wake you up. You’d toss and turn just a bit before opening your eyes and shining your adorable smile in her face. She’d kiss you with love before it became deeper, then she’d go just a bit lower and kiss your neck. She’d relish in your soft moans that nobody had ever had the privilege of hearing besides her. Then she’d drag her hand down your body delicately, teasing your hardened nipples before dipping lower and reaching the waistband of your pajamas. She’d dip her fingertips inside after hearing your small pleads and would gently rub your clit in small circles, letting you feel her length against your thigh. She would be aching, her tip drooling as she used one hand to stroke herself slowly, allowing both of your sounds of pleasure to echo throughout the room. You’d beg around her, feeling her fingers reach that soft spot deep inside of you and focusing on the tightness in your stomach. She’d pull your shorts lower along with hers, giving you permission to let go as she rubbed her cock against your folds, releasing her cum across your skin. You’d beg for more in that sweet tone, and she’d have no choice but to say yes.
Her thoughts of you plagued her mind throughout the day and with no one else to help her, she was stuck taking care of her needs alone. Her hand would wrap around her length, stroking slowly just like she did in her dreams, only this time it was you doing it. She’d call out your name while picturing you beneath her on your knees, staring up at her with a gentle gaze as she instructed you on what to do. She knew you were all alone as well, no one to help ease your wetness in the ways she wished to do. Only if you’d give in, only if you’d notice her lingering gazes and finally leaned up when she kissed your forehead, causing her lips to join yours. If only she had you in all the ways she wanted.
Wanda washed her hands in the sink before dabbing the water onto her face, looking at herself through the mirror with shame. You were still so young, so naive, it would be wrong to take that from you, but she wanted to so badly. She wanted to be the reason you smiled, the reason you could genuinely be yourself. She wanted to be the one who listened to your rambles about what others found stupid, but she could never think such a thing. Anyone would be lucky even to be blessed by your presence, she wasn’t going to lose that. She knew she had to make a move soon or she’d risk the chance of losing you without even having you.
She looked down, noticing her slightly hardened length was peaking through her jeans. She cursed to herself and tried to adjust it well enough to hide. Usually, she could keep it hidden from you, but this pair of pants seemed to not want to work with her. She was hoping you wouldn’t notice, but the moment she stepped into the kitchen and saw your gaze fall for a split second, she knew you knew. She could sense it from the small gulp you let out, your back instantly turning to face her as you made the excuse of mixing more icing. You were celebrating the return of the twins for the summer and she asked for your help, knowing how much you loved baking especially with her. She also used it as an excuse to see you again, just like she did every time she saw you.
She gained the courage to step behind you, lightly brushing her crotch against your bottom as she leaned over you. She sniffed the air filled with the smell of funfetti mix, it had always been the boy's favorite even well into their teen years.
“Well, doesn’t that smell absolutely divine?” She leaned her chin on top of your head as you hummed, too afraid to talk as you knew you’d let out something embarrassing with the way she felt against you. Your hands trembled ever so slightly as she placed her hand on your waist, using it as a hold as she reached for the spatula not far away.
“Did you bring your bathing suit, sweetheart?” She asked, receiving a small nod from your end as you reached for the object in her hand.
“Good girl. The pool is finally all cleaned thanks to your help, it’s only fair you get to be the first to test it out with me.” With her. Meaning she’d also be in a bathing suit, showing off her curves that you found so enticing. You feared how you’d act around her, even if you thought you were well at hiding it.
“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, sure.”
The decorating process continued to flow easily with much teasing from Wanda’s end, curse her body language. She was a very touchy person, that was well-known to you. You didn’t think it was all that special, until you noticed the fact that she’d only ever share a handshake between her closest friends. Was there something different about you?
You worried she just saw you as a daughter figure knowing how you were often neglected by your own parents. You didn’t want her to see you as a child anymore because you weren’t, you were a nineteen-year-old who was more than capable of handling things on their own. But what if she didn’t think that? What if she saw you in the ways everyone else around you did?
“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” She called out, breaking you out of your trance as you blinked a few times. You were met with her soft smile in return, the same one that brought butterflies to your stomach.
“Is everything alright, dear? You looked a little sad there.” You sighed before giving a small nod, only ending up in an even deeper frown from the older woman. She was now dressed in her bathing suit, a bikini top along with swim shorts, even the simplest outfit sent you in spirals. You were currently covering yourself with a towel, your legs and shoulders being the only thing Wanda was able to see, but even that was enough to send her thoughts to places she wished they wouldn’t go.
“Oh, I’m fine, Miss. You- you look really beautiful.” You wanted to slap yourself for letting those words out, but it brought a blush to her cheeks, that was all you could’ve hoped for.
“First off, there’s no need to call me Miss, I believe we’re way past that point. And second of all, I appreciate it, dear, I haven’t worn these in years so I’m surprised they still fit.” She chuckled and looked down, hearing small sounds of your feet colliding with the floor as you came closer.
“Well, maybe you should wear it more often, I’m sure you’d catch a lot of attention.” But she wanted yours. She only wanted your attention, she couldn’t care about anyone else’s. Not when you stood there so perfectly without even realizing it. She’d make you see it. She’d make you see the beauty that shined throughout you.
“And why is that?”
“Like I said, you’re very beautiful, Wanda. Pregnancies affect all bodies, even years after. But, personally, I see them as signs of life. I wouldn’t have my best friends if it wasn’t for you, so I find every sign of that very, very pretty. I just wish everyone saw it that way, especially you.” You trailed off with a shrug, seeing her eyes light up with every sentence. You were never good at giving compliments, but with her, it seemed to flow with ease. You knew she deserved to hear them as you could tell no one spoke so highly of her often. You didn’t understand how, one glance from her could send anyone to their knees, but everyone seemed to be too afraid to say it to the highly-ranked businesswoman. Even you were nervous to say it around her, but her response always helped release that fear.
“I- thank you, Y/N. Nobody has ever spoken so highly of me.” She felt so vulnerable in the moment, where did things change? Only minutes ago she was teasing you relentlessly, now here she was with her heart swarming from your welcoming smile.
“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.” She nodded softly, wishing she could cling onto this moment forever. You were only feeding into her lust, forcing her to want more when she didn’t believe that was possible.
“What do you say about some lemonade, yeah? You can head outside and I’ll be out in just a minute with our drinks.” You complied and opened the screen door, giving one last glance before removing the towel placed over your shoulders. Wanda bit her lip as she eyed your figure, her gaze falling onto your bottoms. You wore a bikini, showing off every curve you stored that she had dreamed of. You were even more pleasing to the eye than she knew of.
“Here you are, darling,” She handed you the cold glass as you swam to the edge of the pool, your sunglasses resting on top of your head and tangling with your wet hair.
“How’s the water?”
“It’s good, pretty warm which I expected.” She gasped lowly as the wetness came higher up on her body. You swam over to her, grabbing both of her hands and pulling her in further. She let out a small yelp as you caught her, your faces sharing low proximity to the point you could feel her breath on yours.
“Uh, sorry-” You tried to pull away but were quickly stopped by her hands on your lower back. She brought you impossibly closer and you could feel her length pleading to be freed. In all honesty, she had been trying to disguise it since the moment you let your skin be shown. You were like a goddess, entrancing everyone possible and forcing their heartbeat to rise.
“I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I’m only going to if you want me to.” Your lips parted in shock as your eyes widened, your expression was starting to worry the older woman. She was ready to pull away until you stopped her, making the first move as you planted a meaningful peck onto her mouth. She felt her muscles tension start to die down while her hands held you tightly, traveling down to the exposing clothing you wore and squeezing your ass. You gasped lightly, allowing her tongue to move further and enter your mouth. She pressed your body against the wall, letting her fingertips toy with the waistband of your bikini bottoms before hiking your thigh against her waist, giving her easier access to trail it down your legs.
“You’re an even better kisser than I imagined.” You chuckled at her words, biting your lip as you felt her teasing your folds.
“You’ve- you’ve imagined kissing me?” A small whimper made way from your vocal cords and Wanda nearly came from the sound alone. She needed you so badly, there was no way she’d be able to stop now.
“Oh, I’ve imagined doing so many things to you, baby.” The recollection brought a new sense of arousal to her. The nights she’d stay up, moans bouncing off the walls as her mind went wild.
“I think of you too, Wanda.” You shyly, remarked, looking down as you spotted your legs opening more on their own. It was as if they were on their own accord, chasing after the high you’ve been wanting for months now.
“Yeah? Tell me, do you touch yourself when you think of Mommy, hm?” The nickname nearly brought a shake to your legs, your eyes traveling to the back of your head as you released a weak moan.
“I’ve- I’ve never-” She clicked her tongue loudly and for a quick second you felt her still and your body wanted to disagree, but the shame you held was too much. Maybe you really were too innocent or young for her, so naive to think you had a chance.
“I’m the first to touch this sweet, sweet pussy? Oh, baby girl, you have no idea how happy that makes Mommy to hear.” Your hands came up to her shoulders as you held yourself up, trying your best to not let her see your weakness. But Wanda saw everything, she always knew.
“Mommy’s got you, little one, she’s not going anywhere.” You could tell she was holding back slightly as she continued to rub your clit in small, gentle circles. You didn’t want her to hold back, you wanted to satisfy her needs correctly.
“Please, Mommy, I don’t want you to be gentle.” Your pout could’ve easily sent her to heaven, but she chose to remain calm and guide you to sit on the edge of the wall. Up to your knees were chilled with the water while the rest of your body soaked in the heat of the sun. Wanda instantly separated your legs and placed soft, yet bruising kisses on your thighs. She wanted to leave a mark. She wanted you to go home tonight and be forced to remember your previous activities, she wanted you to suffer so badly until you needed to see her again. She wanted to be your only escape, she wanted that hold over you that no one else could have.
Her tongue collided with your weeping cunt, giving you no preparation as she instantly caused the tightening in your stomach to worsen. Months and months of edging was catching up to you, but you didn’t want to fail her so quickly.
“You taste fucking amazing, princess.” She was sloppy with her movements, holding absolutely no care or shame as she only focused on your flavor. You were like her favorite fruit that she couldn’t quite get enough of, always reaching for more and telling herself it’ll be the last one, only the last one never came.
“M-Mommy-” She pulled away for a quick moment, leaving a small peck to your pulsing clit as her eyes landed on yours, guiding you into continuing.
“I feel funny.” You expressed, leading her to smirk in response.
“Oh, my poor baby, can you tell me more about how you’re feeling?” She fauxed a frown before continuing, her tongue sliding in and out of your tight hole as her moans vibrated against you. Your breath sped up, your chest heaving as tears pricked your eyes.
“It f-feels weird…in my stomach. I- ah! I-I kept feeling like this for..months!” You gasped when she sucked harshly on your clit. You’ve never felt so ecstatic, so small.
“I’d think of y-you, Mommy, and then my- my head would get f-fuzzy and it would feel all tingly down below.” You choked on your words, trying to manage out some sort of evidence that you were still in control of your body, but deep down you wanted to give her all sorts of power.
“Mhm, and how would you help those tingly feelings?” You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your hips starting to move on their own against her face, your body begging for more.
“I don’t know, I- sometimes, I-I’d rub my thighs t-together, but I never knew what to- what to do.” She was so engrossed in your words and the way you were clenching around nothing, her cock was nearly drooling as she failed to satisfy herself. Now that she had you, she wasn’t going to waste the chance of getting a taste of your sweet cunt.
“Mhm, and it felt like this, right?” It never felt nearly as good, but you nodded anyway.
“Do you think you can do something for me, pretty girl?” Once again, you nodded, this time a whimper following as your hand fell to your breast. You tweaked your hardened nipples as instinct, you didn’t even realize what you were doing until you noticed her watching your movements.
“I want you to hold it, just for a few more minutes, okay? I know you can do it, you’re my strong girl!” She climbed out of the water, letting you lay down as she settled over you. The towel was warm due to the sun but her hot kisses were even warmer. She placed them against your neck, smiling into them as she noticed the forming visible marks.
“Mommy’s gonna go in now, is that alright?”
“Okay, Mommy.” You nearly squeaked when her tip entered you, the small amount already seeming to stretch your walls to the max. You grappled onto her chest for support, unable to stop yourself as your lips followed. She moaned lowly at the contact, her hips jutting forward just enough to cause a weak whine.
“Mommy, it hurts.” You ushered out, your teeth grazing against her sensitive skin and resulting in a groan.
“Fuck, Mommy’s so close, baby. C’mon, be a good little slut and I’ll let you cum with me.” You nervously brought a hand down to cup her balls, using your thumb to gently rub the skin as she bit her lip to suppress any sounds.
“Pl- please, Mommy, I wanna hear you.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she nodded, letting go of her lip as her mouth parted. Her pace quickened enough to have you mumbling incoherent sentences.
“Kiss me, darlin’,” She muttered before grasping the back of your neck and guiding you into her. Your mouth’s connected in a searing kiss, one that brought further ache to your core. Her tongue ran over your lips as she begged for you to let her in, which you quickly did. She explored your mouth as if a traveler on a conquest, only stopping when she gasped as liquids spurted onto her crotch. She looked down at you, eyes blown out and full of lust while holding shame and guilt.
“‘M sorry, I-I tried-” She shushed you quickly, stuffing her head in your neck as she sniffed your scent. You were so unbelievably intoxicating, that she couldn’t get enough.
“Oh, sweetie, Mommy’s so proud of you.” She praised. “So much so that I’m gonna give you a little gift,” Her sloppy thrusts stilled as you felt warm juices invading your tight hole. She was painting your walls with her cum, pressing even deeper as she watched droplets escape you.
“Oh, fuck! I’ve been wanting to fill this cunt for too fucking long, baby girl, you have no idea how badly I need this.” You clawed her back, leaving hints of red marks as you drew lines with your nails. They weren’t very long, but the pleasure became too much and you quickly found yourself digging into her skin.
“You’re going to look so perfect carrying my babies. And when you go back to college, or when you walk around town, all the judgful looks will remind you of how much of a slut you are for your Mommy.” Suddenly, you remembered the two boys who were meant to be arriving in only a few hour's time. Your eyes shot open, your body trying to move from hers as she only continued to hold you tightly.
“No, love. They won’t be here for a while, and I’m going to spend every second I have left fucking you.”
#wanda maximoff fic#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff comfort#wanda maximoff imagines#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader smut#wanda maximoff x reader fluff#wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff x f!reader#wanda maximoff x reader angst#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x y/n#scarlet witch#scarlet witch x reader#scarlet witch x you#scarlet witch angst#scarlet witch x reader smut#scarlet witch smut
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hi red !! i'm sending through a rec for your climacteric event hehehehe <3
spencer reid x fem!reader with the colour prompts red 1 ("You're bleeding."), green 2 ("You're safe here, I promise."), and purple 1 ("You know you're my best friend, right?") please? LOVE YOU LOADS RAHHHH
SCARECROWS [CLIMACTERIC]
1. “You’re bleeding.”
2. “You’re safe here, I promise.”
1. “You know that you’re my best friend, right?”
WARNINGS: reader injury, blood duh, mentions of being stabbed <3
spencer reid x reader || hurt/comfort || 1.6k || event page!!
a/n: you adding the direct quotes made my job so much easier in finding them rip 😭 thanks for the request ml <333
main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!
Sometimes you wondered why you joined the FBI.
If by making one different decision you’d be in a completely different career in a different part of the country with a husband and children living in a two story house with a white picket fence.
Spencer would probably fill you in on the butterfly effect, how a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could change the trajectory of the wind and spin into a tornado, or in your case, leave you stranded and unarmed in an overgrown cornfield with your only company being the crows flying overhead.
It was arguably, definitely, your fault, but what were you supposed to do when the unsub was running off into the night after you’d finally tracked him down.
He’d slipped under the radar for too long, you weren’t going to let it happen again.
Though you weren’t going to lie, you were starting to regret not waiting for the rest of the team.
How were you supposed to know that the welfare check you were sent on would turn into a chase?
They were twelve minutes out last time you checked. You didn’t have signal anymore, who knew how close they were now.
All you knew was that you were a sitting duck with an empty magazine in an unfamiliar location with a light level so low you could barely see your own feet.
You’d lost the unsub a good few minutes ago, and you weren’t about to stand around with nothing to protect yourself with, so you started running back the way you came, hopeful that it would bring you out back at the farmhouse, with floodlights and a phone signal.
You weren’t that lucky.
You never were.
—
“Oh my god—“ Emily sounds like she’s seen a ghost as she cups her left hand over her mouth, her right lowering to her side until her gun is limply resting in her fingers.
Her face is a mix of relief, astonishment and absolute horror, and as the team follow her gaze they mirror one by one until the whole group is frozen in abject shock.
You were alive, thank god, but you were also stumbling backwards out of the corn field like a final girl in a horror movie, completely disheveled and torn up with your attention completely focused on the rows of stalks in front of you like you were afraid something was going to pop out and finish you off.
The sight was enough for Spencer to feel like he was going to throw up his stomach, although whether out of relief or anxiety he wasn’t exactly sure.
Either way he was pocketing his gun and practically sprinting in your direction the second he got a full view of you, no care for what you were running from in his mind whatsoever.
At least you were okay.
“Hey-” His hand barely grazes over your shoulder before your instincts kick in and you swing your elbow outwards with the intent of sending it straight into his face.
It hits him directly underneath his nose, sending his neck back sharply to stop any worse injury occurring under the force of your arm.
It doesn’t deter him though, and he doesn’t so much as even cover his nose from the pain as he takes your arms in his hands to swivel you in his direction so that you can see that you aren’t in danger.
“Hey- Hey, it’s just me you’re okay, you’re safe here I promise,”
The flicker of absolute terror in your eyes makes him swear his heart is going to shatter, and even as he watches it fizzle out under the realisation that he wasn’t someone to be afraid of that small pit in his stomach didn’t disappear.
You looked bad.
Your hands were grazed and raw, you were covered in mud, half of your shirt had been ripped from the hem and tied around your left thigh — presumably as some sort of makeshift bandage, and you were so much paler than you usually were, all of the colour completely drained from your face until you looked almost translucent under the mix of moonlight and blared foglights.
“You’re bleeding— Did I do that? I’m sorry—” You reach up your hand towards and he swerves to take it in his own with a shake of his head, clasping his fingers gently around your shaking palms, careful not to irritate the angry red covering them.
“Don’t worry about me, are you okay? What happened?” His eyes roam anxiously over your frame, lingering specifically on the torn piece of fabric around your thigh that is slowly but surely turning from a charcoal grey to a dark maroon the longer you stand talking.
“I- He ran and- and I followed him and then I lost him and- I don’t- He doubled back on me and I didn’t-” Half of the words coming out of your mouth were almost completely incoherent, and he could see your pupils refusing to dilate even under the direct beam of one of the SUVs’ headlights.
“Okay okay, calm down, take a breath for a second,” Spencer gives your arms a small squeeze to cut off your attempt at an explanation, glancing over your shoulder where the team is still grouped together, with Morgan and Hotch on the phone — presumably for an ambulance and some backup respectively— and the others watching you cautiously, unsure whether they should join in on Spencer’s examination of your health.
“How did you hurt your leg?” You follow Spencer’s gaze downwards towards your thigh, and it’s like the second your eyes recognise what it is you completely loose control of all of your motor functions from waist down.
“Woah—” Spencer takes the sudden change in your weight distribution in his stride, or at least he tries to, shifting his arms underneath your armpits to stop you from hitting the ground underneath you and supporting your weight with his own as he stumbles a few steps backwards. “Guys—”
Emily is at your side immediately, alleviating some of your weight onto herself so the two of them can hold you upright.
“He had a weapon…” You wince under the searing pain in your leg, the adrenaline wearing off fast and hard now that your body knows it’s no longer in danger.
“What kind of weapon?” The concern seeps from Spencer’s voice to soak into your skin, leaving your heart to accelerate under the knowledge that you were injured bad.
“A uh… fork, like a gardening fork… He stabbed me with it…” Although more coherent now, your voice was slowly fading into small mutters and whispers, like the exhaustion in your body was catching up to your mind and making even your tongue too languished to move. “I’m really tired…”
“Hey no- not yet-” Emily shakes her head with a conviction. “There’s an ambulance on the way, you have to stay awake until then,”
“But…”
“Emily‘s right, stay awake you’ll be fine,” Spencer sounds like he’s more trying to convince himself than you as him and Emily support your weight back towards the cluster of SUVs, and the added weight of your head resting against his shoulder doesn’t help his anxiety whatsoever. “Hey, come on…”
He lifts his shoulder slightly to shift your head and you let out a soft noise of discontentment. “I’m awake I’m awake, just conserving my energy…”
“Just keep your eyes open okay?”
You give him a small hum as the two of them sit you down on the hood of one of the cars, and Emily leaves you in Spencer’s care to check with Morgan on the arrival of the ambulance.
“You know that you’re my best friend, right?” You turn your head a little further into Spencer’s shoulder as he becomes the sole pillar of your support, blinking slowly in an attempt to keep your eyes open.
“Don’t say that to me right now,” He shakes his head with furrowed eyebrows, a dark line forming between his eyes as the skin pinches together in his worry.
“But you are though,”
“You can remind me of that after you’re in the hospital,”
“I hate hospitals,” You let out a small, fatigued huff, rolling your eyes at the prospect. “I’m gonna be in there for god knows how long and I just wanna find this guy before he hurts anyone else…”
“Well, he has hurt you, and that’s what’s important right now,” Spencer’s tone contradicts itself between concern and relief. You’re alive, but you’re not in good shape. “We need to make sure that you’re okay before anything else,”
And in an act of holy divination — or just coincidence if Spencer was concerned — right as he mentions making sure that you’re okay the blaring lights of the called ambulance come into view, joined by a shrill, sharp ring that seems to echo over the field.
You all but hobble over to it once it’s parked, successful only in the fact that Spencer is actually supporting more of your weight than you were.
At least he stays by your side the entire time.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#mgg#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#climacteric 🪶
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fail-safe
pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 8k
glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.
alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]
notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist
Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.
The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.
He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.
You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.
Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.
He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.
He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.
You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.
Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.
“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”
He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.
He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.
“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”
“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.
“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”
“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”
You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”
“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.
You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.
You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.
You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane.
You go where your love goes.
“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.
“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.
“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.
“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”
“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.
“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.
He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.
Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.
“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.
“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it. “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”
It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.
“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”
“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”
He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.
“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.
He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.
Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.
“Did you win?”
“Nope.”
“Let me throw that out for you.”
“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”
“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”
“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”
Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.
“Sure.”
( ♡ )
You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.
As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.
You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.
You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.
Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye.
You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself.
So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.
“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”
“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.
Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”
You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.
The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.
“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.
“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.
“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”
There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.
You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.
There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.
“Yoongi.”
“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.
“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”
“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”
You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”
“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.
“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?
You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.
Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.
You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”
He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”
“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot.
Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.
“I will teach you next week.”
“Oh my-…”
He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”
“Ouch.”
“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.
“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”
“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.”
“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion.
You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.
“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.
“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.
He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.
“You can have the helmet.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.
He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.
Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place.
It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.
You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.
“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.
“Why are you up?”
“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor.
“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.
It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.
You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to. You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.
Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.
“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.
“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.
You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”
“But that’s still easy.”
“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.
He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”
Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.
You���ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.
“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”
You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.
“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder.
You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”
“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.
He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.
“Yoongi?”
“Hm.”
“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”
He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”
You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.
Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.
You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.
He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.
Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.
( ♡ )
Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.
Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.
When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.
You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.
Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation.
It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears.
“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.
Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.”
The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.
You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.
Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.
“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”
He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her.
Yoongi’s your next plausible option.
“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.
“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”
“Heh.”
Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”
You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”
“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”
“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.
“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.
The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.
“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.
“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,
“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.
Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”
“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.
“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know, try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”
“But it is.”
You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.
You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.
By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.
The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.
“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.
He thinks that you don’t get him at all.
“What do you meandon’t?”
Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”
“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”
Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.
“Can you be my first kiss?”
“Are you insane?”
“Ugh.”
You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.
You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.
You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.
“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”
“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.
“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.
You try until the solemnness turns into pity.
“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”
Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.
“You already know what I’m going to say.”
( ♡ )
You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.
You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts.
You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.
Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.
Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.
Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.
You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.
“What the fuck?!”
Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.
“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.
“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”
“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.
He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.
“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”
“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”
“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.
“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”
“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”
You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.
You leave your home without saying another word.
.
.
.
Namjoon’s panicked.
He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.
He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.
Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.
He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.
The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.
Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.
“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.
It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.
“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.
Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”
Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.
“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.
“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”
Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”
It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas.
Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.
Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.
They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with.
Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it.
There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.
“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.
“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.
“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”
The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”
You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.
Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.
#HOW R WE FEELING TARGET AUDIENCE!!! :O#yoongi imagine#yoongi oneshot#yoongi oneshots#yoongi series#yoongi angst#yoongi angst imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi au#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi scenario#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x you#bts yoongi imagine#bts yoongi x reader
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Back At It Again
Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader
Warnings: unrequited feelings, childhood friends to something more than friends but less than lovers, mentions of charles' past relationships (charlotte and giada), hints towards there something being wrong in charles and charlotte's relationship, lorenzo gives reader a bit of a reality check, reader's lowkey delulu for charles (like some of y'all), a few time jumps, monaco curse, france 2022 DNF and my personal vendetta against ferrari is showing again sorry.
Word Count: 3.9k
Author's Note: I feel like I never write charles outside of the daddy & me + three series so here you go, sorry for breaking your hearts in advance :))
---
Attached at the hip. Everyone knew wherever Charles was, you were only but a few feet away.
It had been like this since you were children, Charles sat next to you in class when he was there. The boy leant over, peeking at your page before scribbling the answers onto his own paper and flashing you a smile.
If you stopped to think, maybe he had you wrapped around his finger since then.
You had always had a soft spot for the driver; except back then, Charles was just Charles. A sweet, soft spoken, smiley little boy with a horrendous bowl cut - something you still teased him about.
A photo hung on your living room wall; you and Charles as children on the front steps of your elementary school, the ice cream that Lorenzo had bought you two dripped all over your faces, hands and uniforms.
There's a big grin on Charles' face as he looks towards the camera but you? You were looking at him, the adoration written across your face.
Sometimes you wondered if you had stopped yourself then, if you would have ended up where you were today.
As much as you held a soft spot for Charles, he held one for you; you were his safe space.
When things got tough and he didn't know what to do or who to turn to, it was you he came running too and you took him in, consoled him with open arms every single time. You dropped everything and everyone the moment Charles came running.
The man had a hold over you, something everyone but you and him seemed to see.
You were madly in love with him and frankly, it clouded all of your judgement. You held him to the highest of standards, you just hoped that one day he'd see you in the same light.
---
You found yourself in his driver's room. Charles had invited you along to your home race in Monaco, he had just started with Ferrari and after his split from Giada, he needed some support. You being the good friend you were, well.. you were there for him anytime he called.
He was excited, his first home race with the team had always dreamt of racing with and you, as his best friend, you were just as excited.
Charles found himself starting in P16 but he was certain he could fight his way up, he held out a hope that he'd win but at the very least, get the car into points for the weekend.
Things were going okay in the race, Charles was slowly but surely moving up the leaderboard but it was barely the beginning of the race.
Lap 8 was unfortunately as far as Charles's Monaco Grand Prix went.
The Ferrari driver made his way back to the garage after an incident with Nico Hulkenberg. Charles passes by, quietly making his way to his driver's room to change and you wait for a few minutes before following him, knocking on the door that was shut.
"Charles?" you called from the other side, "can I come in?"
"Yeah," he says and you find him sitting on the bench in the corner of his room. He looks small, broken; it broke your heart to see him like that.
The door shuts behind you but you stay in place, your back to the door as you look around; various shades of Ferrari red, the logo of the prancing horse engraved into the wall.
It made you wonder if Charles ever regretted it.
He had barely started with Ferrari but he was young, so young and to have a world champion as a teammate, not to mention the pressure that comes with being a Ferrari driver on his shoulders at the age of 22 was a lot to handle.
He looks over at you, glancing at the empty spot beside him and you take that as a signal to join him, walking over and sitting next to the man.
"You okay?" You asked quietly and he shrugs. He won't look at you again but you don't miss when he brings his hand up to his face, the back of it wiping across his cheeks. "Charles," you whispered, your hand resting on his knee.
The driver finally looks over at you and it breaks your heart to see him like this. You tsked, arms open as he fell against you. Your touch brought him comfort, you rubbed his back softly as his breathing slowed, calming himself down. His skin was warm and sticky under his fireproofs, the material stuck to your hand and your chin rests on his head as he moves closer to you, holding onto you.
"It's not your fault," you whispered and Charles shook his head, you can feel it against your chest. "It is. If only I turned another way-"
"Charles, no." You stopped him, giving him a nudge to sit up so he could look at you. "Listen, I might not be a racer but even I could see that what happened was Nico's fault. You can't blame yourself for that, there's nothing you could have done differently. I'm sure the team knows that, ask Seb - I know he'd tell you the same thing."
He sniffled, pulling the collar of his top up to wipe his face. He pulls the thing off, tossing it in the corner of his room.
It's quiet again, the two of you sitting next to each other in silence, Charles stared at the wall and you, well you were looking at him - you were always looking at him.
He turns to you, his hand coming up to touch your face, cupping your jaw. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to speak. There's a small smile on his face, "thank you, y/n, for everything."
You return the smile, your hand wrapping around his wrist before giving it a small squeeze. "Anything for you, Charles, you know that."
---
Summer break rolls around, Charles is now in his second year with Ferrari and things are going reasonably okay.
He ended off the first half of the season with a DNF in Hungary but he was certain things would pick back up in Belgium after the break.
It's a typical Sunday in Monaco; sunny, hot, people were at ease, out for a stroll or a drive but the Leclerc's were having lunch at Pascale's.
She had invited her boys over for lunch, to have them all home at the same time was a rare treat these days. It was a family day, which meant no girlfriends but you were there but you were always there. Charles' parents, especially his mother, had always seen you like another one of their children; the daughter they always wished to have.
Lunch was on the balcony today, chatting with a side of people watching. Charles sat next to you, his arm stretched out over the back of your chair as you laughed at something Arthur, who sat next to their mother, said. Lorenzo eyes the two of you from the head of the table, his arm on the edge of the table, chin resting on the palm of his hand.
The plates were empty when you stood, starting to pick them up. "Let me help," Pascale goes to stand but you stop her, "no no, you relax. You made lunch, it's the least I could do."
She smiles at you, thanking you as you cleared the table and took everything inside. You had just put away the leftovers and were about to start on washing the dishes when Lorenzo came in, bringing in the empty wine glasses.
"Thank you," you smiled at the oldest Leclerc brother.
He nods, leaning on the counter as he watches you wash the dishes. "What?" You look over at him, setting the plate in the dish rack carefully. "Worried I'll break mama's good china?" You joked and he smiled, shaking his head.
"Are you okay?" You ask seriously, despite you two knowing each other for years, it was unusual for him to just hang around like this.
"Yeah, are you?"
Your brows furrow, setting the washed glasses into the dish rack. "I'm fine, Enzo. You're sure you're okay?" You asked, your back to him as you wiped your hand on the hand towel.
He shrugs and you take that as a drop in the conversation, about to walk back to the balcony but he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "I love you like a sister, y/n, so this is why I'm telling you this." He starts.
Worried would be an understatement, all the possibilities spin around your head, from good to bad and you're still racking your brain as to what he wants to tell you.
"Don't let Charles stop you from living your life, y/n." You look at him confused, blinking a few times before you speak. "Wha- Lorenzo, he's not stopping me from doing anything."
"I know he's got you fooled, has you thinking that you'll be next, that he'll come running to you and never leave but he always does. I love him, he's my brother but he's a fuck up when it comes to relationships. He loves you, we all know this but in his own fucked up way, he think you'll always be there for him and that's why he keeps stringing you along. He's in a relationship, y/n, don't forget that."
"Lorenzo, why are you-"
"Listen, I just don't want to see you hurt. I don't want you to wait on him and then when you finally realize he's using you in his own messed up way, that it'd be too late and your whole life has passed you by."
You pause, unsure how to process what he's just told you. You know he's right, you wished he wasn't but he was.
You did the only thing you could think of, the only thing that could keep this going - somewhere in your own fucked up delusions, you knew couldn't lose Charles, doesn't matter if you got hurt in the process.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Enzo." You say quietly, the man nods, sighing. "I know you do, you know exactly what I mean, y/n. Just be careful, okay?"
You don't answer but he looks at you, "do you understand me?" He asks once more and you nod, Lorenzo finally lets go of your wrist.
"Hey," a voice comes from behind Lorenzo; Charles. "Tout va bien?" (everything okay?)
Lorenzo turns to his brother, a smile on his face before he speaks. "Ouais, je parle juste du travail de y/n." (yeah, just talking about y/n's job.)
The man nods, glancing at you for confirmation and you smile, giving himself a subtle nod. Charles hums, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. "C'mon, mom wants pictures." He sighs, grabbing your hand to pull you out with him.
You glance over your shoulder, looking back at Lorenzo who gives you a warning glare; he was looking out for you, despite his words cutting into you.
---
Laid to your left on the bed, your hand felt over the empty space to find your phone. Squinting, you checked the time - 4:53am.
Who the hell was knocking on your front door?
You pulled the robe on as you stood up, wrapping it around you and tying the knot as you begrudgingly followed the noise to the door. It didn't even occur to you to check who it was before you had already turned the handle.
Much to your surprise, it was Charles with his luggage in tow.
"Charles?" You blinked, rubbing your eyes to make sure you were seeing right. The man steps past you, letting himself into your apartment. He leaves his suitcase by the door, slipping his shoes off before heading to the kitchen. "Yeah okay, come on in then," you mumbled, shutting the door behind you.
He comes back, sitting himself on the couch. There's something in his hand, he pops one into his mouth - grapes. "I don't know what happened." He sighs, passing his hand over his face.
It takes you a second - who can blame you, it is 5 in the morning after all - but you finally connect the dots. He's home in Monaco, he raced yesterday, in France.
"How'd you get here? Isn't everything closed, wait did you drive?"
Charles shook his head, "took the last train out last night, well this morning."
"Okay," you hum, walking into the living room. "Do you want to go home? I can give you a ride -" "No."
"What's going on, Charles?"
You were genuinely confused and concerned about him. You had seen the race, you knew things went sideways fast and it's not like him to come home in such a rush, even if things did go wrong.
He sighs as he leans forward, his elbows on his knees as his face drops into his hands. "Things are bad."
"Meaning?"
"Charlotte," he admits.
This isn't the first time Charles had come running to you when things got tough between the two of them and frankly, it was often that he showed up at your doorstep with nowhere else to go.
"I can't see her right now, y/n." He looks up at you and you nod, walking over to sit next to him. "She's still your girlfriend, Charles. Whatever the issue is, you can talk it out."
"She doesn't understand, y/n - not the way you do." He turns in his seat to look at you, he looks so tired and broken; god, he's lost all the boyish joy you had always loved about him. Some would say it's age but you knew it was more than that. It was Ferrari and all that they made him out to be, the pressure of the world on his shoulders and he's trying, he's pushing and it never seems to be enough.
Ferrari is red; red like the colour of blood, the blood of their drivers, their broken hopes and shattered dreams. You don't escape that place without a fight, and a brutal one at that.
You can't help but reach out to him, your hand pressed to his cheek; warm, the stubble that's formed over the weekend prickled at your hand.
"You're my best friend, you understand me more than I understand myself sometimes." He chuckles, smiling at you.
"I'll always be here, Charles. You don't have to think twice about that."
He nods, smiling at you. "Can I.. stay the night?"
"Isn't.. she looking for you?" You asked hesitantly and he shakes his head. "She thinks I'm coming home on Tuesday, told her I'd be spending some time with Pierre and his family."
You think about it for a second, you know you really shouldn't let him stay. If you were such a good friend, as you had always claimed to be, you'd send him home, let him work out whatever issues he was having with his girlfriend but alas, you were but a woman and a selfish one that is.
Whatever you could do to keep him in your grasp, to live in this delusion for only a second more, you'd do it.
You justified it to yourself; he looks so tired and broken, you can't possibly kick him out.
"Yeah, stay as long as you need." You tell him and he smiles, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Tu es le meilleur," (you're the best.) he says, getting up and making his way down the hallway.
You assumed he was going to the bathroom but when it goes quiet in the hallway, you head over to check on him. "Charles?" You called, seeing that the bathroom door was open and the light was off but when you see your bedroom door open, you peek in to find him in bed.
Charles has always been comfortable in your space; too comfortable if anyone asked.
He was curled up on your bed, the duvet pulled over him with his socks left on your bedroom floor by the bed along with his hoodie and shirt discarded on the chair in the corner. You shook your head, tossing the robe on the chair before getting on the bed. You got into bed as quietly as you could but Charles must have felt the dip in the mattress, rolling over towards you, his arm stretched over your lap.
You smile to yourself, your hand reaching down to twirl a few strands of his hair.
As you looked down at the man, his brother's words rang in your hand.
Your blood runs cold and you feel sick, but you can't bring yourself to move.
---
Christmas has always been your favourite time of the year. Your apartment was decorated from the time November 1st rolled around. You had all out this year despite the fact that you were going to visit your sister in the states for the holidays.
You had just put the tray of cookies into the oven when there's a knock on the door. You make your way over, peeking through the peep hole to find Charles there.
"Hey," you give him a small smile when you open the door. He smiles, a bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. "Can I come in?" He asks - shockingly.
You step to the side, letting him in. You shut the door behind him before turning around to face the man. "Happy holidays, y/n," he hands the stuff over to you," this is for you."
"Thanks," you take the flowers and the bag, setting it down on the counter as you grab the vase for the flowers.
Per usual, he finds himself on the couch as he looks around. He took in the stuff you had put up since the last time he had been there; a tree in the corner filled with ornaments, garlands, you've changed the curtains on your windows and the hand towels in your kitchen, even the throw pillows were different.
He's sure your bedroom has had a Christmas makeover.
"You okay?" He looks over at you when he notices you're quiet. You nod, setting the flowers into the vase, "I'm fine."
You take a seat on the couch across from him, your legs folding under you when you sit. Charles looks at you a bit confused, not sure what you're doing all the way over there. He pats the spot next to him, "come sit with me, y/n. I missed you."
Rolling your eyes, you scoff at his words.
Now he was really confused. "What's wrong?"
Your hands fold over your chest, looking over at the man. His white knitted hoodie was a size too big for him, swallowing him whole. He looked adorable, you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms but you can't let yourself fall into this again; things never change.
He never changes.
"I'm sick of this, Charles."
"Of what?
"This," you gesture between the two of you, the man's head tilting to the left, brows furrowed. He's still unsure what you meant by that.
"You do this every time, Charles. You don't miss me, you miss the idea of a relationship, someone to be at your beck and call. You know I'm always here for you and because of that, you use me. When things get tough in your relationships or you're single, like you are now, you come running to me and god," you huffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "It's like I never learn, I'm so stupid that I let you in every time."
Charles looks at you, his jaw hanging open a bit. "Y/n, come on- that's not true."
"Yes it is," you nod, sighing. "When you broke up with Giada, you clung to me, Charles. You spent every moment you weren't racing with me until you started seeing Charlotte. When things got tough with Char, you came to me, you hid here until you felt like you had to go home. Somehow you used me as an escape from your real issues, you made me feel special, like you loved me-"
"I did love you, y/n. I do love you." He says, his fingers poking into his chest to emphasize his words. You scoff again - the audacity of this man.
"Don't say shit like that, Charles. you know it's not true. You came to me when things got tough and no matter what was going on in my life, I dropped everything for you. I was always there for you and now that Charlotte's gone, you've come running back to me in hopes that I'll distract you until you find someone new."
"God, why are you making me out to be such a horrible person? I love you, y/n, I care about you. I really do."
"I know you love me, and that you care about me, Charles but I cannot keep doing this."
He sighs, passing a hand over his face. You take his silence as a chance to say what you have to say. "Either we become more or we're nothing at all."
"Y/n, please. Don't be like that," he looks over at you, shaking his head in disbelief. You give him a small shrug, unsure what else to say.
Charles stares at you for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly he's supposed to say. You were his best friend, the only person he had actually trusted enough to confine in, to turn to in times of hardship and you had the audacity to throw that back into his face?
He watches as you stand, walking to the door. "What's the answer?" You asked and his brows furrow, you open the door this time.
You clarify the statement for him. "Are we more or nothing ?"
You're standing there, the front door to your apartment wide open and Charles can't help but laugh when he stands. "You're not serious."
"I am," you nod, taking his words as an answer in itself. "You need to go, Charles."
"Y/n, don't-"
"Charles stop, we all know you don't want more with me, I can see that clearly now. You laughed in my face, that's enough. There's no need to humiliate me anymore, please just go."
He nods, walking over to you. The man stops in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek. "Look at me," he says but you look everywhere but at him. "Y/n, look at me."
You finally do, your eyes meeting his. "You're serious about this?" He asks. "Yes," you nod, "unless you want more."
A tiny piece of you hoped he'd say yes but he lets go of you, moving his hand from your face. "Okay."
"Okay."
Charles leans towards you, his lips pressed to your cheek before finally taking a step back. "I'm sure I'll see you around," he says to you quietly and you nod, chewing at your bottom lip. "Sure."
He steps out of your apartment, walking a few feet down the hallway before he calls for you. "Bye y/n."
You watch from the door, nodding towards him as he steps on the elevator. You've both got a clear view of each other. "Goodbye Charles." you call out to him just as the doors slide shut.
The front door to your apartment shuts as well, your back pressed to the cold wood. Your head tipped back as you sigh. You aren't sure how you're supposed to feel because right now you felt empty and lost; you hoped it wouldn't be like this forever.
That chapter of your life was over and you hoped that one day you'd find the happiness you deserve.
---
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Photos of You
Fem!Reader x Subbish!Daryl Dixon
word count: 20,498 (I hope)
NSFW.
Warnings: Explicit, full of horny, Minors DNI. Pillow humping, Sexual photographs, Vaginal sex, Oral sex, Talks of alcohol, vague talks of Daryl's child abuse. That's pretty much it, can't think of any more trigger warnings.
"Hey, look what I found!"
Daryl turned his head away from what he was currently occupied with, a box full of abandoned books in the corner of the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rick had sent you and Daryl to scavenge for, well, anything useful actually. The children needed new books to read, The pantry could always use more food, And you can never have too many medical supplies in an apocalypse. you and Daryl had thought you hit the jackpot when you came across an old, rather large, thrift shop with enough clothing and books to keep Alexandria stocked for a while. Daryl even found a recliner he seemed to like. Unfortunately, the universe has decided to make your lives a billion times more difficult ( as usual) by sending a decent-sized herd in your direction. you both made it out fine, with only a few bruises and at least 50 of the undead bastards still on your tail, so you both decided to look for a place to wait them out until morning. and like a beacon of light shining in the cold, damp night air, you both stumbled across a dilapidated shack with a set of metal doors protruding from the ground beside it. thinking it was your best chance at a safe shelter for the night, Daryl quietly opened the doors and moved down the stairs to scan the room for potential threats. Once he gave the all-clear, you shut the doors tightly and not even five minutes later, heard the shifting and shambling of the rotting undead above your heads.
turning on your flashlight, you scanned the room to take in your surroundings. it looked to be a makeshift bunker of some kind. It was pretty large, walls made from some kind of metal. In the left corner of the room, there was a bunk bed with gray sheets, colorful quilts, and rather comfy looking pillows. In the right corner, a little kitchenette with various appliances and cabinets for storage. In the middle of the room there was a wooden table with two folding chairs, cards and other assorted items strewn about the surface. you had to admit, besides how cold it was
"Do you think anybody lives here?" you asked Daryl as he started rummaging through cabinets to look for spare supplies. You watched as he brought two fingers down and gave the counter a quick swipe.
"Nah. S' a lotta dust"
You moved further into the room towards the table, where a storm lantern sat, untouched for months or even years. you pulled out your metal zippo lighter and palmed it fondly for a second. Daryl had given this to you months ago and it was one of your prized possessions to date. You recalled a time when you thought he would never give you a gift, or even talk to you for that matter. When you two first met, he wouldn't even look at you and only threw you the occasional snarl, and now he was one of your closest friends. He had really grown as a person since Atlanta... And you had grown fond of him.
Snapping back to reality, you tried to focus on the task at hand, lighting the lantern. with a single flick, the lighter produced a perfect flame. The damn thing was always reliable. The lantern roared to life and gave the room a soft orange glow. You moved around the room, lighting the other three lanterns that were meticulously hung for optimal lighting. You glanced over to ask Daryl a question, but it died on your lips as your eyes found him. From where you were standing, you had a perfect side view of his face. The light hit him as it danced in flickering shadows across his features. He knelt over a chest filled with blankets on the floor, concentration painted on his knitted brow. He looked pretty like this, his bangs falling lightly over his eyes while he moved about. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, one of his many admirable idiosyncrasies, like when he fidgets with something in his fingertips, or rubs his chin with the back of his hand.
You break from your thoughts again, mentally scolding yourself for once again getting side-tracked thinking about Daryl. You decide to at least try and look around for things that could be useful, focusing on a nightstand next to the bunk beds. It was a shoddy thing, looked like it was built out of a pallet and nailed together by a blind child. It had a drawer though, so that was a start. opening it, you find quite a few... interesting things. A chain of at least 15 condoms, a really expensive looking vibrator, a polaroid camera, a few boxes of film, and some already taken photos. Upon closer inspection, the photos revealed a couple in some very compromising positions. One photo in particular was a view of a woman laid out on a bed, sweaty and tense, breasts on display for the camera with her back to the sheets. You immediately begin striding over towards where Daryl was hunched over a box with an amused look on your face.
"Hey, look what I found!"
Daryl turned his head away from what he was currently occupied with, a box full of books in the corner of the room.
"whatcha got there?"
You lower your hand, silently offering the pictures to him. He flicks his head to the side, effectively moving his bangs from his eyes for a better look. His cheeks fired up as he flipped through each picture and felt the embarrassment welling up in his chest.
"These too," you said lightly as you held up the chain of condoms and the vibrator with an amused look in your eye.
Daryl's blush spread from his cheeks to his shoulders, and his ears were comparable to the color of a ripe strawberry at that point.
"Some couple back a' Alexandria gon' enjoy 'em," He managed to utter. But oh, how he wished it was the two of you putting them to use instead.
"Oh hell no! this bad boy is mine!" you said, holding up the vibrator, "They can have the condoms though."
Daryl did NOT need that image in his head right now. Of you all laid out, that thing going between your legs, your moans filling his ears, maybe his name spilling from your lips...
The truth is, Daryl had been harboring a crush on you since the prison. He had to admit, the beginning of your relationship with him had a rough start. He was mean to you for no reason other than he was too scared to get close to you. Wasn't any easier with Merle in his ear all the time, "Tha' girl ain' gon' wantchu baby brother. you're just a lowlife." But after Merle was gone, Daryl had slowly realized that he hurt you over time. You avoided him around camp and used every excuse in the book to prevent spending any time with him. When Hershel's farm burned down and the group was on the run, Daryl would ask Rick to give him as many watch shifts as he could with you. And when the group found the prison, He did the same thing. Taking shifts with you up in the guard towers, bringing extra snacks he found on runs with him so you two could eat. Eventually, Rick started pairing the two of you up on runs, and you two made a flawless team. you both maneuvered expertly, like you were fine tuned to each other's movements and reactions. You both worked on the same brain wave, which came in handy when you needed to make quick decisions on an impulse. And eventually, the archer began to develop feelings for you. At first, he would find himself looking at you, admiring how your body moved when you took out walkers on the fence. Then he started thinking about you, finding little things on runs that reminded him of you and pondering o if you would like them or not. He didn't usually bring them back though, Merle still in his head telling him that it didn't matter how many gifts he gave you, you still would never see him like that. Eventually, the thoughts wandered. They progressed, and sometimes even followed him into the confines of his cell late at night, swirling in his head like a catchy song.
click.
The sudden sound caught him off guard. He looked up to see you chuckling to yourself with that bright smile he adored. He would do anything to see you smile like that, even if it killed him. He watched you with adoring eyes as you pulled the freshly taken picture from the slit in the camera and shook it back and forth. He felt embarrassment creeping up his neck again when you took a look at the photo and smiled. He took a deep breath to compose himself and choked out, "ya gon' lemme see the damn picture r' wha'?." He's trying his hardest to sound nonchalant, but deep down he was nervous, and sweat forming on his palms was certainly showing it.
You hand him the picture, and he replies with a scoff. "tch! I look ridiculous," He remarked while throwing the picture down on the floor.
"No, I think you look great."
He stiffened at that. Fuck! one more thing he's going to think about later when he's alone. He could already feel himself growing in his pants as he groans just low enough so you can't hear. 'Really? jus' a compliment 's giving ya' a hard on? c'mon man,' He reprimanded himself in thought. The silence thickened, as you shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot with a sad-ish look on your face. 'Oh shit, she thinks she made ya' upset. respond asshol-"
"Well, I guess we should eat," you said, cutting off his thought process.
'fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,' "Sure." 'you fucking coward'.
After that, you both sat down to eat your glamorous dinner of canned pork and beans. The uncomfortable energy had faded at that point, which was another thing Daryl loved about you so much. You never dwelled on anything longer than necessary, and you always knew how to make the mood right. When you got up to go get something from the kitchenette, Daryl couldn't help but replay what you said in his mind. 'You look great,' what did you mean by that? maybe he imagined the whole thing. Yeah, that must be it. His eyes drifted down to the legs of your now empty chair in thought, where your backpack was propped. And maybe he was imagining this too, but he could swear he saw the corner of a polaroid picture sticking out of the front pocket...
That night he laid down on the bottom bunk of the bed in quiet thought, agonizing over his lack of response earlier, thinking about the picture. He wondered if you would silently resent him now because of it, or even more, he wondered if you wouldn't take his picture again. He always hated having his picture taken as a child. Once in a while, his mother would pretend to give a shit and try to take family photos to hang on the walls. He hated the pictures she took because his bruises were always visible, almost as if to taunt and humiliate him when he'd walk by the frames in the hallway. He's been sour towards pictures ever since, avoiding them like the plague. That was, until about an hour ago. He found himself hoping you would take pictures of him, even with him maybe. God, he would let you do anything to him as long as it made you smile.
His thoughts wandered again, making his cock stiffen in the tight confines on his jeans. Fuck! He couldn't do this now, you were asleep right above him! The thought of you catching him made the burning feeling in his core worse somehow, as his pants became uncomfortably snug. He flipped over on his stomach in an attempt to diffuse the situation that had been building since the two of you entered this godforsaken bunker, but failed miserably when his sensitive tip brushed against the mattress, causing him to hiss out in pleasure. Fuck, he was a goner. Just then, he noticed the flannel shirt you had left on the floor next to the bunks. He felt shame at the idea that flashed across his mind, but convinced himself that it wouldn't hurt. He was about to do something he hadn't done since he was a horny highschooler. He pulled your flannel up onto the bed by the sleeve and brought it to his nose, taking a big whiff of the area around the neckline. He groaned in satisfaction and flipped on his back as he pushed his pillow on top of his hips and placed your shirt over his face. He reached down, lifting his hips off the bed just enough so he could free his red, throbbing, cock and push it against the surface of the pillow. The contact made him dizzy with anticipation as he thought about what he was going to do. He started moving his hips up in a thrusting, grinding motion slowly so as to not wake you up, moaning a little with each pull and push.
He thought of you as he chased his pleasure, as he always did. He thought of your hips and how they swayed when you walked. He thought of your hands, and how they felt that one day you grabbed his arm to show him something. He thought about that time you insisted on putting his hair in a ponytail, and how was he going to deny you when you looked all sweet and happy? The feeling of your fingers pulling at his hair to get it in the hair tie will be forever engraved into his brain. He thought about you on top of him, riding him while he holds that vibrator to your clit and brings you to your climax.
He whimpered a little bit, pushing the shirt into his face to envelope himself in your scent. you smelled so good to him, like that lavender soap you loved and leather books. The best goddamn smell in the world, or at least he thought so. His hips started to speed up as he became dangerously close to his high. The stark contrast in temperature between his hot, twitching dick and the cool, soft pillow sent shivers down his spine. The friction, The thought of you, Your smell, Your hands, Your mouth. It was slowly becoming too much for him to handle. He needed to cum. He needed to cum to you, FOR you. Then a thought hit him, what if you kept the polaroid because you were attracted to him? what if you kept it because you wanted to... use it. What if you thought about him like this, all sweaty and desperate for you??
oh
OH
That was it, That thought is what made his nerve endings light up all over. His climax came in white hot flashes of pure pleasure, His thick cock spurting long streams of warm cum all over his pillow and bare stomach. He moaned wildly into your shirt as he bit down on the collar, riding out the waves of his orgasm with reckless abandon and no concern for noise.
He laid there slick with sweat and semen, his hair stuck to his face and neck, breathing heavily as he shivered through the post orgasm cooldown. He stayed there for a good minute, still giving little thrusts that made him whine with sensitivity from the overstimulation. Ridiculing himself in shame over what had just happened, He slowly placed your flannel back on the floor where it had previously been and tucked himself back into his pants. He would just clean himself later. However, When he pulled his pillow back up to his head, he realized his mistake. in all his horny desperation, he had forgotten about the fact he had just cum on his pillow with no way to clean it. 'Way ta go dumbass, ya' ruined yer only pillow.' He shook his head as he threw the pillow under the bed and laid back down. Only one slightly embarrassing thought still crossed his mind before he fell asleep, 'I wonder if she'll take more pictures of me.'
Little did he know, that's exactly what would happen.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Morning came, and aside from the shame Daryl felt deep in his gut, the day went pretty well. You returned to the store you two were at the previous day, loading everything you could fit into the storage truck (especially Daryl's chair) and heading for home. The ride home had an awkward air to it, even though you tried your best to lighten the mood with jokes and gossip about the people of Alexandria. Daryl just couldn't keep the conversation going, too busy thinking about last night.
He lit a cigarette and opened the window to get some fresh air. You took notice of how the afternoon sun made his skin shine, and how his lips wrapped around the damn thing perfectly.
click
Daryl turned to you, watching you shake out the film again and giving it a good look.
"S' this gon' be a thing now?"
"Oh, absolutely."
He let a small smirk grace his lips and heard another click to his right.
"What? I rarely see you smile," You said, defending against his scrutinizing look. You gave the photo in your hand another studious glance. God, he was pretty. from the long, brown hair that graced his forehead, down to the stubble on his chin you dreamed about rubbing on your thighs. What would it feel like to have those angular lips drag across your body with need and desire? What sensations would those rough, callused hands make you feel? You bet he's rather dexterous on account of all the whittling he does with those arrows, and the pure skill his fingers use to expertly skin a deer. You bet he's really good at applying pressure in all the right places...
"Hey! Daryl, what the hell?"
Your attention is gripped by Daryl grabbing the camera from your lap with one hand and bringing it up to his face in one swift motion. He snaps a picture of you and glances at the road while he waits for it to print.
"'S my turn, sunshine."
Was he... Trying to be playful right now? The only other time he was playful was that night when you were both up in the guard tower and you challenged him to a game of knife throwing, to which he responded with a competitive grin and a, 'You're on.' You both threw your knives at a very well made target you had drawn yourself that was taped to the pole in the middle of the tower. The rules were simple, First person to hit the bullseye would emerge victorious. After three or four throws, you landed the shot perfectly, causing Daryl to sarcastically accuse you of cheating. Those nights in the tower were some of your favorite memories. Snacks shared over mutual silence, just enjoying each other's company and occasionally talking about random stuff. Such a simpler time.
"Are you gonna let me see the damn picture or what?" You remark, mocking him about the comment last night.
"Nah, don' think so." He retorted, taking a drag from his cigarette and puffing it in your direction.
You faked an offended look, watching him stuff the picture into his back pocket. You think nothing of it as you both make your last turn towards home...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A week later, Rick took it upon himself to throw a party for the new group that had arrived at the gates. You had to hand it to Him, The idea to put signs up on the major roads and train tracks had been a huge success. Alexandria had gained quite a few new members since then, most of which were actually decent people, which was hard to come by these days.
You invited Rosita over so you two could pick out clothes and do makeup together. You enjoyed quality girl time since You didn't have any sisters growing up. Rosita always helped you piece together outfits for these events, she was the self-proclaimed best stylist in Alexandria, not that you would disagree.
You stood in front of the mirror, Feeling the fabric of the dress between your fingertips. It was cute, a red sun dress that hugged your hips and showed off a considerable amount of cleavage. She paired it with a set of black strappy heels that accentuated your calves nicely. She also insisted on you keeping your hair up with two strands down in the front to, "make your collarbones and cheeks really stick out," or whatever.
"Damn mama, You look sexy as hell in that dress, I'm jealous. Daryl's going to love it."
You threw her a sour look.
"What? you know I'm right."
Deep down, you knew she was. "I just don't think he likes me like that Rosa," You said with a sigh. You gave yourself another look in the mirror with a droopy expression.
"That's a lie. Anyone would take the chance to be with you. If I swung the other way, I would sleep with you the minute I saw you, hermosa. And I KNOW Tara would too, That girl has a looking problem."
"Rosita!" You turn back to her with a shocked laugh.
She just shrugged and continued on, "What about that thing you told me about?"
" 'Sita..."
"You saw that man on the bottom bunk of that bed, Masturbating, right underneath you! And you still don't think he has a thing for you?"
You started to feel flushed, "That probably wasn't because of me."
"you're oblivious. Wait! was it big?"
"Oh. My. God. Stop."
Rosita cocked an eyebrow at you, expecting an answer.
"I- I didn't get a good look. It was dark and I didn't want to invade his privacy like that, so I just popped my head back up."
You remembered hearing him breathing heavily and dropping your head over the side to see if he was okay, Only to be met with the sounds of moans and whines and his face covered in some sort of cloth. probably to keep himself quiet so he didn't wake you... It definitely didn't work. You hate to admit it, but you listened to him carry on for another few minutes. Hearing him whine and moan so close to you had your underwear soaked and your legs rubbing together. When he reached his climax, it took everything you had not to make any noise. He was so vocal, and you were just aching for any kind of relief.
You couldn't help but touch yourself after you were sure he had fallen asleep.
"Bor-ring." Rosita said with a disappointed look, followed by her ushering you to come closer so she could start on your makeup. "Next time, Hop down there and assist him."
You chuckled, "Unfortunately, Rosi, I don't think there will be a next time. Now hurry up so I can start on you!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daryl heard a knock on his front door and shuffled off his new chair and up the stairs to answer it. He was not at all surprised to see Rick on his front stoop, holding a bag in his hand.
"What'd Ya want? M' not goin' to tha' damn party, so ya' might as well stop tryin'."
Rick knew Daryl hated these parties, but had to attempt to sway him to come anyway. When Daryl walked back into the house, Rick followed in hot pursuit all the way to his room in the basement.
"Come on, brother. Just give it a chance, you might enjoy yourself," Rick said as he stepped through the doorway.
Daryl flopped down on the wooden chair that he had pulled out from his workbench to face Rick, " 'S not gon' happen."
Rick had seen the way Daryl looked at you, like a desperate puppy who couldn't breathe unless in your presence. He was about to play dirty, but this was his last resort.
"Y/N is gonna be there."
For a split fraction of a second, Rick saw a hint of excitement in his eyes. But just as quickly as it was there, it was gone.
"an' why's tha' matter?"
Rick walked towards Daryl with the bag still in hand, lowering his voice a bit.
"Wouldn't you like to look at her in person instead of staring at that picture you like so much?"
Daryl stayed silent. He couldn't trust his voice not to come out shakey.
"Here, I brought you some clothes and some other stuff."
Rick tossed the bag in Daryl's lap. Daryl opened the bag to find a pair of charcoal dress pants and a dark green button up shirt, along with what looked like hair gel.
" 'M not wearin' this shit." He said with a disgusted look on his face. "Don't even know how ta'."
"I can help you, And she'd like it. you know I'm right."
Daryl grunted in response, embarrassment welling up in his chest.
"Fine."
"Good. Now take a shower and put those on and I'll help with the rest." Rick said as he walked out of the room. "I'll be waiting out here.
Daryl drug his feet to the bathroom that was connected to his bedroom and started stripping layers. As the water started to run, he got lost in thought. If Rick could tell he liked you, did you know too? What if you saw him and laughed at him because he looked dumb? Rick better know what he's talking about. He picked up his bar of soap and got to work on his legs, scrubbing vigorously until his skin had a pink tint to it. Now he was getting a little self conscious, trying to make sure his skin and hair was clean for you. He really would do anything to see you smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I look ridiculous."
"No you don't, now sit down and hand me the comb."
Rick was a persistent son of a bitch, Daryl had to give him that.
Rick ran the comb through Daryl's wet hair, slicking it all back and adding in some gel as he went.
"Alright, looks good! Oh, just one more thing." He unbuttoned the first two buttons on Daryl's shirt, causing him to let out an uncomfortable groan.
"Never leave the top two buttoned, Girls love to see a little chest."
Daryl threw the comb in Rick's direction as Rick dodged it and laughed. "I used to do this for my little cousin, He was a few years younger than me and he loved it."
"ya well 'm glad ya had yer fun, playin' dress up like I'm a damned doll."
Rick just chuckled in response and exchanged goodbyes so he could go get dressed and ready himself.
Daryl looked in the bathroom mirror, His nerves were getting the better of him. What was he doing? pretending like he wasn't redneck trash and dressing like an idiot. If Merle could see him now, he'd be having a field day with this. How was he even going to talk to you like this? You'd probably be too busy laughing to talk.
Well, at least he would see you smiling.
He shook the thoughts away and mentally prepared himself for the shitshow this was about to be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rick smiled to himself as he entered his room to change.
He was happy to help his brother with any lady issues.
He was even happier that Rosita had come to him with this idea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You slowly approached the front door to the party, silently wishing Rosita had never talked you into this. "Damn Rosita! And damn rick and his stupid parties." You thought to yourself as you took a deep breath in and closed your fingers around the chilled door knob. With a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped inside.
The smell is what hit you first. Warm, home-cooked food and alcohol. A soft, upbeat tune played from somewhere deeper into the house. Before you could even process what was happening, Maggie had walked up to you, grabbed you by the hand, and pulled you into a circle of people to chat, muttering something about needing to introduce you to the new people. You met a few new folks, Including some new guy named Mitch who was an architect before the world fell apart. you two got to talking, but in all honesty, you were only half paying attention once you realized Daryl wasn't there.
As if the universe listened to your thoughts, the door slowly creaked open and in came Rick and Daryl. And he looked... wow. All thoughts escaped you as you looked him up and down. He cleaned up well, His hair slicked back and that tight-fitting shirt made your head swirl with desire. The two buttons had been popped open at the top, giving you an excellent view of his collar bones and upper chest. Then his eyes met yours, and it was like there was no one else in the room. Quite a few people turned to stare, mostly from your group, probably in surprise at how clean he was. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and decided to throw him a little wave and a smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daryl left his house and started his stride to the party in the brisk, cold night air. "Ya really let Rick talk ya inta this huh? ya stupid bastard, she's gon' laugh atcha when she sees ya like this. swear ta god im gon' kick Rick's ass later." He approached the front door of the event, hearing the music and laughter buzz through the door. He considered going home and changing out of the stupid outfit to save himself the embarrassment, just sitting in his new chair all night and reading one of the books he found on that run last week. He had only been out for ten minutes and already missed the warmth of his bed and the comfort of his old ratty shirt. Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around to find Rick smiling at him.
'fuck, too late now. The bastard caught me.'
"You'll be fine."
Daryl just offered a grunt in response as Rick opened the door and led them both inside.
The first thing Daryl noticed was you, it was always you. No matter if you were wearing the dirtiest rags you could find, or the most beautiful thing you owned, he would always be able to pick you out of a crowd. No matter what. The second thing he noticed was what you were wearing, and he would be damned if his heart was still beating after. He raked his eyes over every inch of you he could, taking in every agonizing detail. The black heels made your legs look strong yet delicate at the same time. his hands itched to run his fingers over your thighs while you sat on his lap, taking the pleasure you wanted from him. He longed to leave that red dress that showed the delicious swell of your breast on the floor of his room. When his eyes lifted to yours, he swore the world went quiet. your eyelashes fluttered as if you were trying to figure something out.
'Here it comes.'
But it never did. You only smiled at him and offered a small wave. And he offered one back.
Only then did he realize people were staring at him and he shrunk back into himself. He tore his eyes away from you and started walking towards the kitchen.
'Where's the alcohol?'
He made a B-line for the open liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Bourbon that would be his best friend for the night. He already felt sweaty and was thankful that cologne rick had let him borrow. He was still going to kill him later though.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rosita swiftly walked towards you and you were already rolling your eyes before she ushered you to an unused corner of the room.
"Tell me you just saw what I saw, because I think I just had a stroke Y/N."
"Stop."
"Girl, that man showered and dressed up for you. His hair is out of his eyes, this may be a marriage proposal."
You had to admit, you were having less than pure thoughts about him right now, specifically his chest, which you thought about on a nightly basis at this point. That shirt brought out his ocean colored eyes perfectly, and you often wondered if you dove deep enough into them, would you ever be able to swim back to the surface? Did you even want to? How would they look closed tightly underneath you in an expression of pleasure? How would his mouth look pleading for more? How would that hair of his look spread out on the floor around his head like a chocolate colored halo?
"I have to admit, He does look rather handsome in that shirt." And you meant it. you REALLY meant it.
"Oh my god! You were totally just having a sex fantasy weren't you?" She said when she saw the ever so slight tint to your cheeks.
"Keep your voice down!"
Rosita gave you a knowing look and smile before you walked away and headed for the kitchen to get a glass of water. Lord knows you could use a cooldown right now. Once at the sink, you pulled a red party cup from the stack on the counter and filled it up with the tap. Turning around, you find Daryl in the corner, sipping a glass of amber liquid.
"Hey."
He looked at you and nodded in response.
Fuck it, why not bite the bullet?
"You look nice. That shirt is a pretty color."
All right. this time his heart might have actually stopped. His body tensed and the room suddenly shot up a few degrees.
'Oh no, no this again. say sum dumbass, tell 'er she looks good'
"Ya- mm," He choked up a bit and lifted the glass in his hand to his lips to take a sip of liquid courage. "Ya look great too. 'S a nice dress."
"Thank you, Rosita lent it to me for the night, along with this tacky purse."
You gestured to the oddly shaped handbag that was draped around your shoulder. The thing was sort of ugly-cute, but it was the only bag large enough to hold the things you wanted to bring tonight. Oh! That reminded you. Somehow without Daryl noticing, you pulled your beloved polaroid camera out and prepared it for a picture. Luckily, Daryl was staring straightforward and lifting his glass for yet another sip, making it the perfect opportunity for a photo.
click
Daryl recognized the sound all too quickly and made an annoyed face. You had been terrorizing him with that camera for the past week. Snapping pictures of him while he was working on his bike or checking the snares outside the wall. You had to have at least 7 of them by now.
He shifted his eyes between you and the camera before you finally lifted the picture to your eyes and smiled.
There was that warm feeling in his chest again.
Your gaze moved from the picture, to him, and back to the picture.
"This one is definitely a keeper."
"pfft, I look ridiculous."
"You look handsome." You have absolutely no idea what just possessed you to say that. you were sure Daryl was going to leave and never come back. Why would you say some stupid shit like that? Why wasn't he saying anything back?
Well, the truth was Daryl was in shock. He must be hallucinating, because He could have sworn you just called him handsome. Were you flirting with him or just being friendly? He tried to come up with something witty to say, but all he came up with was, "Stop."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night moved like molasses in January. You talked with a few other people about upcoming events, future runs, and guard shift schedules. You introduced some of the new people to long time residents of Alexandria you thought they would get along with.
Rick approached Daryl at some point in the night and attempted to get a conversation out of him. Deciding he had enough of Rick's shit for one day, He started towards the porch to have a smoke. Grabbing the bottle of Bourbon, he stumbled a little when he took a few steps and almost fell into the door. Shit, was he really that wasted? Whatever, a little more couldn't hurt. It was a party right?
You noticed him leave the room out the corner of your eye and contemplated following him to make sure he was alright. You felt ridiculous for even thinking like that. Daryl was a grown man who could take care of himself, he didn't need you bothering him all the time. But maybe he would like some company? He never seemed to mind spending time with you, sometimes it seemed like he would even seek it out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air outside was a nice change from the stuffy atmosphere in the house. Stepping out on the porch, you immediately noticed Daryl leaning on the railing, a cigarette between his lips and a bottle of alcohol to his left. You cleared your throat to alert him of your presence and prevent him from getting startled. The moment he saw you, His face broke into a dorky grin and he dropped the cigarette into the ashtray on the banister.
"Hey, 'S you"
Was he drunk?
"Ya here ta see me?" He looked around for other people you could be there to see.
He was so drunk.
"D'ya want sum?" He slurred as he lifted the bottle towards you.
He was wasted.
His eyes looked so happy as he offered you the bottle. You had never seen him like this, it was uncharted territory in your friendship. You realized he was waiting for a response so you just smiled and shook your head no.
"How much have you had?" You said as you approached the banister and leaned on it with one arm.
He lifted the bottle and squinted his eyes at it like he was trying with all his power to see, then brought his thumb and pointer finger to the side. He looked like he was trying, and somewhat failing to measure how much had been taken from the bottle. When he was satisfied with his measurement, he held the two fingers up in your direction.
"'Bout tha' much."
You thought this was the most adorable thing you had ever seen, besides that time Judith had chocolate cake all over her face and threw some at Carl. You sat there admiring Daryl with a smirk as he picked up his cigarette and took a drag, a swig of Bourbon followed closely after.
"Daryl Dixon, you are the pinnacle of health, you know that?"
" 'anks, Got it from ma dad."
Your face drooped a little at that. You remember Daryl telling you stories about his family on one of your late-night guard tower talks. He didn't outright tell you his dad was abusive, but he gave you enough pieces to build a very depressing puzzle. It wasn't a very happy puzzle either. You recalled the story about his 13th birthday. His mom forgot what day it was and His dad passed out on the couch watching old black and white movies. But Merle? Merle tried his best to give his little brother a good day. He bought Daryl a little cake from the convenience store in town and presented it to him at the local park. Daryl always said that Merle could be mean, but he still cared for Daryl as best as he could. As best as he knew how.
You took your camera out of your bag again and Daryl looked at you in sad confusion.
"why ya' always tak'n pictures o' me?"
You sighed and began piecing together your explanation. He probably wouldn't remember any of this anyway, so why not?
"Because you are Beautiful, Everything about you is. You are strong, and capable, and when the light hits you at the right angle, it's impossible to resist saving the moment. Your facial expressions are so unique and rare that it makes me want to capture them all and hang them up for everyone to admire. I would paint murals of you if I could find enough wall space to do so."
You hesitated for a split second before bringing your fingers up to his chin.
"You are the most amazing man I have ever met and you don't even know it, do you?"
He stood perfectly still, but not tense this time. He narrowed his eyes in focus like he was trying to sober up to remember this moment.
"y-ya really think tha'?"
Instead of responding, you just moved to his side and brought the camera up to put you both in frame. You got a little closer to him so your head was almost resting on his arm
"Of course I do."
...
Click
...
You brought the camera back down, Grabbing the fresh film and shaking it to cool it down. You turned over the photo, only to realize Daryl had been staring down at you instead of into the camera. You chuckled as you turned towards him to show him the picture.
"Hey big guy, you were supposed to look a the ca-"
You stopped your sentence when you met his eyes. He was still looking down at you. It felt like he was staring into your soul with puppy eyes and nestling his way into your heart with each passing second.
In all your months of friendship, nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. You felt two arms snake around your back and a head rest on your shoulder before you realized. Daryl Dixon was hugging you. And... sniffling?
"Daryl, are you alright?" You asked, worried you might have hurt him in some way.
No response.
You pulled away from him and saw that his eyes were a little wet, so you brought your thumb up to wipe them away. Normally, you wouldn't even think about being this close because he hated when people touched him. But right now, He looked like he needed it. It hurt you to see his beautiful eyes filled with tears, no one this sweet should cry.
"No ones ever said tha' 'bout me."
Your heart broke just a little bit more.
"Well it's true. Now, I'm going to tell Rick I'm calling it a night. Wait right here so I can walk you home."
Just as you walked away, Daryl grabbed your wrist to get your attention.
"Ya don't have ta leave 'cause of me."
Even when he was drunk, he was still as considerate as ever.
"Honestly, I'm getting sick of being here. It's too hot and my feet are starting to hurt from these damn shoes." You offered with a light-hearted laugh. "I'll only be a second."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Leaving so soon?"
You loved Rick, but sometimes you were really sick of his shit.
"Yeah. I'm taking Daryl home."
He raised a playful eyebrow at you. The asshole.
You sighed with annoyance, "He drank too much and I want to make sure he gets back okay."
"Well, that's very nice of you."
"Shut up rick."
He laughed that annoying laugh and gave you the go ahead to leave while Rosita gave you a look. You swore to yourself at that moment you would never show up to one of these parties ever again for as long as you lived.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Alright, come on." You motioned for Daryl to follow you.
He silently obliged.
"Alright, now give me your arm so I can keep you from falling down the steps."
He held his arm out for you and you wrapped your own around it. When touched him, his skin buzzed from the contact. He had never been this close to you, and his drunk brain questioned why he hadn't tried to sooner.
You successfully led him down the front deck steps and towards the road with few complications. He was still stumbling like a child trying to walk for the first time, and you found it pretty adorable how he put his hands out a little when he felt unstable. You both walked for a few moments in silence until Daryl lost his balance over a curb and fell into you, grabbing you for support, almost sending you barreling over.
“'M sorry. ya shouldn' have ta take care o' me like this.”
"I already told you, I don't mind it sweetheart."
He flushed at the pet name as he straightened up. Those goddamn pants Rick gave him were already too tight, but it was even more so now.
"Do you have your keys?"
"Hmm?"
"Your house keys bub. Do you have them? The door is locked," You asked him in as clear a voice as you could. He fumbled through his pockets as you waited patiently for him to produce them. He checked his last pocket and felt something jingle. Pulling them out, he placed them in your hand and watched you search the key ring for the correct one.
When you slotted the key into the door, you felt Daryl wrapping his arms around your waist from the back. You froze as he buried his head into the hair that fell against your neck. You heard him take in a large breath, like he was trying to smell something.
"Ya smell so good."
A heat grew in between your legs and you couldn't move. It was wrong to be turned on by Daryl when he wasn't in the right state of mind, but the way his body felt pressed against yours had your cheeks warm and your eyelids feeling heavy. You almost collapsed when his embrace got tighter.
"D-Daryl, honey, you have to get off so I can open the door."
"Mmm." He reluctantly let go of you and you shakily turned the key and opened the door.
"Can you make it from here?"
"Huh?"
"Nevermind, that answered my question." You chuckled and stepped inside.
"ya have such a nice smile. Makes me happy ta see it."
"Thank you. I'm almost upset you won't remember any of this. come on big guy, let's get you settled and in bed."
By pure luck, you somehow managed to conquer the stairs to the basement with Daryl in tow. You opened the door to his room and ushered him inside to sit him on the bed.
"Hold on, I'll be right back. Change your clothes while I'm gone." The thought of him naked briefly made its way across your mind, but you shook it off and focused on getting him something to drink and eat. You entered the kitchen and made a mental note of things you would need. First off, water. You grabbed a bottle from the fridge and set it down on the counter. Next you needed something easy on the stomach. Looking in the pantry, you spotted a pack of saltine crackers. Perfect! That's what you used to eat when you had the flu. If it could work for sick ass you, it could work for drunk ass Daryl. You figured he would need something for the inevitable headache. The medicine cabinet was just over the refrigerator, you remembered from when Abraham needed antacid and the only person who had some was Daryl. It was a struggle to reach, but ultimately a small hurdle to clear. You mentally patted yourself on the back for a successful and bountiful expedition, and headed back down the stairs. You knocked on the door and heard an affirmative grunt from the other side.
"Alright, I have some water for you, some food too. and ibuprofen for the headache. Don't drink too much, you're gonna be thirsty in the morning."
Looking over at him, you noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt. Now, you knew Daryl had been through a lot during the end of the world, and most of it left scars. But some of the scars littering his torso looked old, really old. You deduced that these were most likely marks left by his father, and most of them looked like healing came rather hard. How could anyone do this to a child? Especially someone as sweet as daryl?
You realized he was looking at you, waiting for you to continue.
"I brought you some crackers too, Eat them in small amounts or you will regret it."
He stared at you as you walked towards his nightstand and placed the items there.
Months of watching you. Months of hearing your sweet voice. Months of watching your thighs peek out from your shorts, and Daryl had enough.
You were startled as you felt a rough force pulling you downwards and it took you a second to realize where you had landed. Daryl wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him, His warm lips found their way to your neck.
"D-mm." Your words were interrupted by Daryl moving his hips upward. You could feel how hard he was and it made you cry out with pleasure. He was holding on to you with pure desperation, Every inch of your body felt like it was burning up.
He moved his lips away from your neck to speak, "I need ya', please Y/N. I need ya ta take me. Y-Ya can h-have me any way ya want. I need ta feel ya." He punctuated the sentence with a thrust upwards that left your head empty and your mouth unable to function. "I-I want ya so much, sunshine. Want ya ta hold me down an-...an`." His hips bucked up wildly and He let out a grunt as his hands left trails of fire down your shoulders and arms.
"Daryl, w-we can't."
He grunted in frustration and looked up at you with big, sad eyes.
"Why? You don't want ta? With me?"
His voice wavered on the last two words and you felt terrible, but he was under the influence and you were worried he didn't really want this. You just didn't want to take advantage of him...
"You're drunk Daryl. I don't want you to regret doing this," You motioned between the two of you, "With me. You might not even remember."
"S-so ya do want ta?"
You leaned down to place your lips on his forehead.
"More than anything."
You took his hands in yours and spoke.
"I'll tell you what, If you remember this in the morning and you still want it, you come find me."
You couldn't help but frown a little as he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes full of sadness. You brought your finger up to his forehead and ran it over his brow bone, then down his cheek and on to his bottom lip. He kissed your fingertip and you smiled.
"Tomorrow, imma come find ya."
"I'll hold you to that, love."
Daryl sighed as you wiggled out of his lap, already missing the warmth of you against him. He flopped backwards on the bed and grabbed his pillow, shoving it under his head.
You padded your way back to the front door where you had left your heels and purse, all the while thinking about what just happened a few moments ago. Daryl fucking Dixon was kissing and begging for you to take him, and you felt him... All of him. You wanted nothing more than to rip off the layers of clothes that separated the two of you to feel him even more. Tonight's events got you thinking, what if Rosita was right? What if that night in the bunker, he was thinking about you? You shouldn't get your hopes up, he was most likely just drunk and horny. You've never seen him show any sexual interest in anyone, so he was probably as pent up as could be and just relieving a little bit of the pressure. As unlikely as it was, you hoped he wanted you like you wanted him. His words were like fireworks in your mind, bright and explosive with sparks of color.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
After such a long night, your bed felt like a toasty marshmallow. Your feet were aching, your thoughts were racing, and your body was at its limit. You needed a day of rest and at least three ibuprofen, but a glass of milk and 6 hours of sleep would have to do.
Before heading to bed, you pulled out your leather bound journal and added your new pictures from that night to the pages of your choosing, along with descriptions of each. This was a new thing you started doing after the day you found the camera. You got a few of Glenn and Eugene talking about video games, one of Carl stuffing his face with cupcakes, which was definitely a keeper. Your fingers stopped when they reached the pictures you took of Daryl earlier, especially the one of him looking at you. You decided to keep them out of the book and put them in your nightstand, along with your camera, for safekeeping.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first thing Daryl noticed was the jackhammer someone let loose in his skull. The second thing Daryl noticed was the unbearable amount of light seeping through his basement window. Seriously, who gave the sun the right to be that fucking bright? He sat up and rubbed his eyes to try and rid himself of the mount Everest sized migraine, effectively making it worse. Great, a wonderful start to the day. He figured he might as well brush his teeth to get rid of alcohol breath. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A bottle of water, some pills that looked suspiciously like ibuprofen and... Were those crackers? No way he would have gotten these for himself, he's never done that before, just came straight home and passed out. which means someone brought him home. Someone very considerate.
He took the ibuprofen and washed it down with some water, then ate some crackers to settle the unease in his gut. He tried to desperately remember what the hell had happened last night. He got to the party with Rick and... drank. Ah, that explained the memory loss. He remembered you, and that dress. You took a picture of him, he remembered the camera lens pointing at him, but nothing else. He felt the gel Rick had lent him still stiff in his hair, which meant he had to wash it out. No way in hell he was taking another shower, so a quick wash in the sink would work good enough. He dipped his head down and turned the water on. If he saw Rick today, He made a mental note to hit him.
He lifted his head to stare into the mirror, and his hair was back to its normal self. Perfect! time for toothpaste. He thought about you and tried to recall if he even talked with you. After all, even though he would never admit it to Rick, he DID come to that party for you. He hoped he wasn't an asshole to you, he had a habit of being like that after enough to drink. He needed to figure out what happened, and he knew that someone at that party would have answers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"yes?"
Rosita looked tired when she answered the door, eyes droopy and face turned down in a frown. Her face changed when she saw who was on her front stoop. "Well, if it isn't Romeo. Tell me, what can I do for you at 'way too early for this o' clock."
"Wha' happened a' Rick's dumb party last nigh'?"
"Straight to the point then." She motioned for Daryl to come inside, but he shook his head no.
"Jus' tell me."
"Other than you showing up looking like Al Capone? You drank a lot and Y/N... Took you home." Rosita gave him a suggestive look and if he was being honest with himself, he was shitting bricks. Did something happen with you last night? He would remember if you two... Wouldn't he? Of course he would, it was you, and you were unforgettable. His stomach was churning nonetheless though.
"Ya' didn't hear anythin' else?
"Well...''
"Jesus, jus' fuckin' tell me."
"Alright, Alright."
And she told him everything. She told him about the conversation she overheard on the porch, or at least the little portion of it she heard before she gave you two some privacy. She didn't have to say anything else though, Daryl started remembering a little. And then he remembered a lot. Then he remembered all of it. Everything.
He needed to find you.
He needed to find you NOW.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The knocking on your door grew quicker and louder with each passing second. Who the fuck woke you up and what the fuck did they want. You swore on your mother's grave that if it was Rick, you were going to beat him with your slipper.
"Y/N, are ya home?"
You cut him off mid-knock by opening the door.
"Daryl, are you okay? Is someone hurt?"
The look on your face almost broke him in two before he remembered why he was there.
"Can I come in?"
You opened the door and made a mock butler stance, bowing your head and gesturing towards inside. He walked inside and shut the door behind him rather quickly.
"Jesus, somebody is antsy-"
He got close to you, close enough that you could smell the scent of that cologne still radiating off him in waves.
"Did ya mean it? please tell me ya meant it! tell me ya want ta and we- I-. 'Ve been thinkin' 'bout this forever. dreamin'."
You looked at him in confusion, studying his hopeful features. To be fair, you had just woken up and were not firing on all cylinders. You usually needed a cup of coffee and some food in order to even see correctly. Then it hit you.
oh.
That's what he was here for.
"Yes, I meant it." You DEFINITELY meant it. You wanted him more than anything.
"Good," Was all he said before attacking your lips with his in desperation, as if you would vanish when he stopped to take a breath. His lips were surprisingly soft and warm, like a fresh meal just waiting to be devoured. Your hands threaded through his messy hair, tugging just a little. He groaned and you pulled him down so his head was level with your mouth.
"Any way I want?" You asked, mimicking his words from the previous night.
You heard his breathing stop suddenly for a moment.
"A-any way ya want."
"Follow me, beautiful."
He obeyed and trailed after you, hand in hand, up the stairs towards your room. His nerves were starting to catch up to him and he wished he was as confident as drunk ass Daryl right now. What if you didn't want to be with him and you only wanted to satisfy an urge? This time he didn't let what Merle said, or even his own overthinking, get to him though. You wanted him, you really wanted him, and nothing else in the world mattered to him right now except that. Even if you only wanted him for pleasure, he could learn to live with it. As long as he got to be close to you. He told himself that multiple times as you led him down the hall, and the truth was, it was a lie. He wanted to be with you in every sense of the word. He wanted to wrap his arms around you at night, and confide in you about his worries, and take pictures of him, and put his hair in a fucking ponytails every day so he could see the smile that lit a campfire under his heart.
You opened the door to your room and led him inside. "Everybody crashed somewhere else for the night, so don't worry about being loud. Although, you really didn't seem to care when we were in your room." You shot him a sarcastic grin but stopped when you turned to look at him. He had an embarrassed aura about him and his eyes were diverted to the left. You put your arms around the back of his neck and spoke in a low, suggestive tone, "Your little noises made me so wet, sweetheart. Couldn't stop thinking about them all night."
His cock jumped a little at your words. He was growing in his jeans, and you seemed to take notice. You turned around in a brisk stride towards your bed, and swayed your hips with each step. Daryl was quick to follow as you sat down on the edge and beckoned him.
"Undress yourself for me, sexy."
He stood in stunned shock as he tried to process what you just said. Y-you wanted him to strip for you? He'd never done that before. Well, he had never done much of anything before actually. He wasn't technically a virgin, but just barely. Despite his nerves, he was aching at the thought of being on display for you, so he slowly shucked off his vest and started working at the top button of his sleeveless flannel. No matter how hard he wanted to be sexy and keep eye contact, his brain failed him and his eyes drifted down to focus on his hands. He managed to get two buttons undone before pausing.
You knew immediately what was wrong and you stood up to take his hands in yours.
"I-"
"It's alright Daryl, I uh- I already saw last night, remember? You don't have to continue if you don't want to. You can keep your shirt on, or we can stop if that's what you want. No pressure, all you have to do is tell me. But I want you to know that you are the most breath-taking man I have ever met, and nothing can ever change that."
You rubbed his hands with your thumbs and smiled up at him, trying to tell him how much he meant to you without uttering a single word. His eyes almost welled up in tears from the onslaught of emotions you made him feel. You dropped his hands and softly grabbed his chin, waiting for his answer.
He somehow mustered up the words in his chest and spoke, "I don't want ta stop. P-please."
His little beg went straight to your core. "Then don't," You said as you sat down and leaned back on your forearms.
With each button that came undone, more of his toned chest was exposed to the chilled air in your room. He looked up to see your expression as he reached the last button, your expression looked... hungry. No one had ever stared at him like that before. He weirdly liked it. He watched your eyes rake over his torso as he shrugged out of his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He was so hot right now, so completely turned on while he stood in front of you, as vulnerable as could be. 'Slow down ya dumbass...'f she wants a show 'en giver 'er a show,' He thought to himself as he reached for his belt. He got the buckle free and pushed his hips forward ever so slightly as he slowly pulled the belt out in one tug. He felt stupid for the attempt until he saw you rub your legs together the slightest bit in arousal. He pulled his jeans down over his hips and ass, making his erection slightly more visible to you, and he saw you lick your bottom lip and pull it between your teeth. That meant you liked what you saw, right?
Sensing his question in the air, you spoke, "You are doing so good Daryl, you look amazing for me. Such a god boy."
Your words spurred a sudden confidence and arousal through him. He turned his head to he side, shutting his eyes tightly as he hooked both his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers. He hissed as he dragged the boxers down his legs, making sure his cock was pushed down until the elastic caught on the rim of his sensitive head. He stayed there for a second, making sure you got a full view of his heaving chest and veiny shaft.
"Daryl. stop."
Fuck! Fuck! you didn't like it. You thought this was stupid and he was trying too hard. You decided you didn't want to do this with him-
"Can I take a picture of you? Like this?"
Y-you wanted a picture of him? Like this? T-to keep? God, his cock was throbbing at that thought and he couldn't form words right now, so he just weakly nodded his head.
"Don't move. you look perfect just like this." The praise was making his head weak and his skin glossy with sweat.
You reached into your nightstand and pulled out the camera which was, thankfully, pre-loaded with quite a bit of film. He watched you lift the camera to your eye and speak, "Look at that, so beautiful." You could see the effect your words were having on him. "Look at that sexy chest, and that thick shaft. I bet you are going to feel amazing buried inside me Daryl." He whined a bit and moved his head to the side, most likely to hide his embarrassed flush.
*click*
"Look at me, sweet boy."
He obeyed.
*click*
"F-fuck. Y-ya love takin' pictures, don't ya?" You could hear how horny he was by his speech, and it was really starting to get you going.
"How can I resist when you look so damn tempting. I'm gonna stare at these when I miss you and get myself off to he thought of your hands on me Daryl."
"Ahhhh," He moaned as he lowered the boxers enough to let his hard cock spring upwards and bounce a bit. He just needed relief, just a little relief. He was big, bigger than average, and you knew it.
"I want it in my mouth baby, only for a second, will you let me?" He nodded furiously and already walked towards where you sat on the bed.
" 'Ve never had s-someone- not with their-"
"I'll make it feel good for you sweetheart, I promise. Just enjoy the way it feels." You said as you brought a hand to his pink tip and lightly ran it over his slit.
"G- ahh." He started whimpering lightly.
"I've barely touched you yet angel, and you're already singing for me. Are you sure you can handle more?"
He nodded in response and you closed your hand around his length and started slowly stroking. His hips were shaking a little, this poor man was so pent up it wasn't even funny. You then leaned your head down a bit and opened your mouth to drop his tip on your tongue, and his knees started to wobble when you took him into your mouth fully. Your throat was like heaven around him, hot and wet and tight, so tight. You kept eye contact with him as you worked at his cock, smiling a little when you saw his head throw back in pleasure. Your tongue traced every vein on his girthy meat until you were satisfied you had memorized and mapped out every single one, and by the time you were done, Daryl was panting for air in between moans.
"Now, what was it you told me you wanted me to do? Hold you down and..?"
The sound of his dirty words leaving your lips was the most erotic thing he had ever heard.
"Come on, big guy, use your words."
"H-hold me down an- an f-fuck me 'ntill I can' T-take it." His words were failing him and he felt stupid for not being able to say a single dumb little sentence. He wanted nothing more than to be underneath you while you used him for your pleasure, as long as he got to touch you.
"Lay down then honey,” you said, pulling his arm towards you.
He still couldn’t believe what was happening, even though it was unfolding before his eyes. All the months spent telling himself hell would freeze over before you considered him an option, and here he was, laying on your bed waiting for you to have your way with him. He watched in awe as you started removing your shirt.
“Do you want to help?” You asked him and he nodded in response. “Words baby.”
“Y-yes.”
He went to put his hands on your stomach where your shirt ended, but stopped before he could touch you.
“Are you okay Daryl?”
The genuine concern in your voice toyed with his heart strings in the worst way possible, and he was reminded of how much he actually adored you. You were so caring, understanding, and thoughtful. How was he going to tell you he didn’t know what to do? How was he going to tell you he was nervous to touch you and mess up? Luckily, you spoke up.
"You're overthinking Daryl, I can practically hear the racing thoughts. tell me what's going on in there." You lift your pointer finger and tap at his forehead.
Here goes nothing.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Daryl shakily spoke,
" 'v Jus' never done this before really with anyone and I-I jus' don' want ta mess this up because I r-remember tha' time at the prison when y-you and Rick were in the garden... t-talking 'bout your high-school days an' all the guys ya've... and..." His eyes lower from yours, and his voice softens to a whisper, "Ya' just have so much more e-experience 'an me when it comes to ta'... this."
Oh, that's what he's worried about?
You open your mouth slightly to begin your reassurance, to let him know it didn't matter to you and you want him no matter what, but he hurriedly started up again.
"I jus' want to make ya' feel good Y/N, I-I think about it all the time. when 'm alone a-at night, touching myself ta' the thought of ya'. the thought of bein' b-buried inside of ya'... I d-don't deserve ya'"
The fire that has been lit by Daryl is now burning with reckless abandon, only stroked by his breathless, heartfelt confession.
"Daryl, look at me."
His face doesn't move, still pointing towards the left of the room somewhere, obviously embarrassed.
"Look. at. me." You grab his chin softly, resting your thumb under his lip, and tilt his head towards you. When his eyes meet yours, your breath stops. You have never seen a man look more lost and full of need in your life, and it breaks your heart to see him like this.
"Daryl Dixon, there is not another man that has, is, or ever will be on this planet that I will want more than I want you." You lean down to his ear and lower your voice, "There is no man I would rather have buried inside me, experienced or not."
He moans lightly, and you feel his cock twitch under you.
"T-tell me what ta' do Y/N. T-tell what ta' do ta' make ya' F-feel good an' I'll do it. Please. I'd do anything ta' please ya'."
"Fuck, Daryl, I can't handle it when you beg like that."
"D-do ya' like it when I beg?" He looks uncertain, and you reassure him with a soft kiss on his nose. The sweet and seemingly innocent gesture makes his face warm.
"Yes, very much. Take off my shirt for me."
He obeys, hands shaking, but only slightly. His gaze burns trails of heat up and down your abdomen as he reaches out a thumb and places it over your naval, rubbing at the skin softly. He looks up at you, assumedly for permission, which you hastily grant with a controlled nod. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Daryl's hands trail up your stomach and towards your back, moving ever closer to your bra clasps.
His fingers work at the little hooks for a few moments before he turns a whole new shade of red and drops his hands to your lower back in defeat.
"Need help?" You ask quizzically.
"Y-yes... please. 'm not sure how ta' yet."
You giggle a little bit but immediately stop when you hear him groan in frustration. Oh no, you hadn't meant to make him upset. He wasn't used to a little playfulness in between the sheets. You pull the clasps of your bra and slide it down your shoulders ever so slightly, you want to leave him the pleasure of removing the garment himself. You grab his hands and pull each of them up to the bra straps hung low on your shoulders. As he pulled the bra free from your chest with a muted gasp, his eyes widened in awe. You both stayed there a moment as he studied every hill and valley on your chest. His eyes met yours in a desperate yet silent plea.
"You can touch me Daryl, go on pretty boy."
The nickname makes him involuntarily move his hips in a wave of unexpected pleasure. You take note of this and decide to stow that information away for later. Led bravely by your words, he reached his palm up and cupped it over your right breast, testing the weight of it in his large, warm palm.
"Shit, 's so...soft," he grunted, experimentally pinching your stiff nipple in between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation shot electric currents through your nerve endings and earned him a short but sharp inhale of breath from your lips. His eyes widened in horror as his hands recoiled from your skin. "S-Shit Y/N, Fuck! 'm sorry, did I hurt ya'? I told ya' I weren't no good a' this-"
Sensing the panic in his voice you cut him off without letting him finish his ramblings. "NO! No! Daryl that felt great. do it again, please. Your hands feel amazing on me." You waste no time in pulling his hands back to your chest and using his fingers to pinch your nipple again. All reluctance vanished from his features when he heard you moan in pleasure and press your still very clothed core against his very naked cock.
"Fuck Daryl. Good job, Good boy."
His cock twitches once again and he knows you felt it for sure this time. He turned his head and buried the side of his face into the pillow beneath him.
"Oh you like that, don't you? Do you like being my good boy Daryl?"
No response. He just closes his eyes tightly.
"Talk to me, sweet thing. I like it when you're vocal, It's hot."
Upon hearing you liked it, he spoke up.
"Y-Yeah. I do like it. I like being-... I like being your good boy Y/N."
You don't think his face can get any redder and the blush is now appearing over his shoulders and chest, as if his system is so overloaded it doesn't know what exactly to do.
"Don't move, keep your face right there, angel."
When the bed shifts he becomes a little suspicious but doesn't dare move after you told him to stay. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be your good boy. Daryl doesn't have to guess what you are doing for long, as you return and he notices the outline of the camera in your grasp. Fuck, you want more pictures of him.
Why does that thought turn him on so much every time?
He lifts his hands to the side of his head, gently tugging at the pillow... posing for you. He'd pose any way you wanted him to just to make you happy. He'd let you take a million photos if that's what it took.
"Somebody's eager. Do you like being my model angel? You like having yourself on display all desperate and horny for me?"
"Yes. L-Love being under ya Y/N. Love b-being yours ta look at. Never thought ya'd W-want ta-... see me like this...T-Take all the pictures ya want. P-please. Never stop. Please never S-stop."
*click*
You wiggle your hips a bit against his erection and his mouth opens as his back arches off the bed. He whines as his chest lifts towards the sky.
*click*
"So pretty. you look so good in these pictures Daryl. I may just have to put one in my wallet to carry around."
You still liked to carry your wallet around from before the world went to shit. It makes you feel normal, like it's just another work day where you forget your keys and spill coffee in your lap. You could think of no better place for some of these photos than in your back pocket, tucked away in between the leather folds...
"Ya'd really do tha?" He looks surprised.
"Oh, absolutely. Now, what do you say about getting these sweatpants off of me?"
He offered no verbal response, just the hasty movement of his once nimble fingers, now clumsy as he fiddles with the knot on the drawstring of your pants. You internally laugh a little. You had witnessed Daryl's dexterous fingers build hundreds of arrows and carve a multitude of sticks. and yet here he was, fumbling with a simple knot that, quite frankly, wasn't very tight.
It made you beam with pride that you could reduce him to this.
"What was it like, your first time?" You inquired incredulously. You were filled with curiosity as you remembered his flustered statement from earlier.
After finally loosening the knot from your pants, and resting his hands on your hips, he answered, "was alright I guess." His expression became sheepish and you knew he was being stingy with details on purpose.
"You don't have to talk about it, But I'm not not going to judge you."
He contemplated for a split second.
'welp, here goes'
"Must'a been 'bout sixteen 'n Merle, He t-took me ta some druggie's house. Druggie's sister was a' least five years older 'n me. She did some... Work on the side. Merle thought it'd be good for me, "It'll make ya a man," 's what he said. S-she-"
He paused for a second, looking up to you for what you assumed was reassurance. You had never seen him look so vulnerable. You placed your hand on his chest, just under his left collar bone. He breathed a bit and continued.
"She took me ta one of the spare rooms an' I told her I'd never done anythin' like tha' before. She told me it wouldn' be an issue and we continued... I- uh, I didn' even finish. She never breathed a word ta Merle and 'm thankful for it."
He looked uncomfortable, and you felt terrible for him. You were the first person to admit that your first time wasn't the best, when you impulsively slept with your lab partner in sophomore year and faked an orgasm to get out of there, but this was definitely worse.
"And you never tried again?"
"N-nah... never wanted ta... 'till now," He replied with a wavering tone.
At least you've had some good experiences. He hasn't had any, and that thought just made you want to give him some.
"So you've never cum inside someone before?"
He weakly shook his head.
"Well then, we'll have to fix that then, won't we pretty boy? Now, I know for a fact you can cum..." You leaned down to his ear and whispered, "especially on pillows." You felt him stiffen below you.
"Fuck! Y-ya saw tha'?"
"I saw it and heard it, sweet thing, made me so horny. I just had to touch myself that night." You punctuate your sentence with a brisk roll of your hips that Daryl mewled at. "What were you thinking about?"
"Y-you."
Your suspicions were confirmed, and it gave you a rush of confidence.
"What were you thinking about me?" You wanted to hear him stumble over his words. you wanted to hear his shameful, dirty thoughts formulate on his tongue.
"Jesus fucking s-shit y/n. I was thinking about you and how ya sound 'n s-smell. I- fuck I love tha way ya smell c-couldn't help myself from..."
Your ears perked up, "from?
He tried to look away from you, but you wouldn't let him. Raising an eyebrow, you offer him a silent challenge to defy you.
His mind was racing now, afraid you might be disgusted with his confession. He needed to learn how to keep his big fat mouth shut. He just couldn't help himself though, he wanted to tell you everything. He wanted to tell you anything you wanted to know about him. He would do anything for you.
He would do anything for you...
He loved you.
In the next few microseconds, Daryl moved that word around in his head over and over again. It felt so right. Like the word had been on the tip of his tongue for a long time, just waiting to be spoken.
He figured now wasn't the best time to tell you though. Instead, he quieted his self deprecating thoughts and opened his now red, plush lips to answer you. He wouldn't let Merle's voice fill his head when he had your sweet one to do it instead.
A sudden wave of confidence rolled over him in ripples.
"Your shirt. Tha' green flannel tha' hugs yer chest like it was made for ya. had it pressed up against m-my face so I could smell ya all around me when I finished. Imagined if ya thought of me when ya t-touched yerself too. Wondered if maybe ya... used tha' picture ya took of me for... other things."
The smile on your face could be considered sinister from an outside perspective. "You have no fucking IDEA how hot that is Daryl. No idea at all. Jesus, Fuck, that just made me so wet. I think about you all the time when I pleasure myself, does that make you happy? Does it turn you on that I did look at that picture of you when I had three fingers stuffed inside myself to mimic two of yours?" You punctuated that sentence with a cock of your eyebrow.
Your voice almost sounded mocking.
It made your words even more erotic to him.
That was the single most arousing thing he had ever heard with his own ears. He didn't know if it was because of the current sexual context, or if it was just because they came from you.
He decided it was a combination of both, leaning more towards the latter.
You were overwhelming him and he loved every single second of it. All he smelled was you. All he saw was you. All he heard was your voice and your breathing. Everything was you. Just you. You. You. You. He needed to have you with every fiber of his being. He needed to be surrounded by you even more.
"Fuck me Y/N please. please please pleasepleaseplease. Can't- Can't stand not being inside ya anymore." He whined out the whole thing and it was almost incomprehensible.
"Whatever my good boy wants."
And with that, you put your hands on his and guided them back to the elastic at your waistline. Something about his hands in yours felt absolutely perfect, like they were made for it. That idea mixed with the feeling of his rough fingers brought a familiar swell in your chest that you often felt when you were in Daryl's presence. However, this time it was much stronger and much more warming. You wondered if it was because of the sexual contact or if it was just because of him.
You decided it was a combination of both, leaning more towards the latter.
You lifted your hips for his for a moment so Daryl could remove your sweatpants from the upper part of your waistline more easily. You pulled them the rest of the way down and removed them completely, along with your red silk panties.
Daryl's brain short circuited when your bare ass and pussy sat down just above his throbbing cock. He could feel your wetness leaking onto his stomach and the thought of tasting it crossed his mind. 'Later' he said to himself. He'd pleasure you with his mouth later if you would let him. And even though he had never eaten a girl out before, he would damn sure make up for it with enthusiasm to do so.
You looked at the soft panties in your hand and then back to Daryl, who had his eyes fixated on where your sex met his skin. He was so deep in thought he didn't even notice what you were doing right now. You could practically read his mind at this point, so you called out to him and held out your soaked panties towards his face.
"Go ahead baby. I know you want to."
He wasted no time in bringing the garment to his nose and giving a big, unashamed whiff... Then brought them to his tongue and licked a long strip of the crotch while keeping eye contact. The look on his face was like a starved man being fed a feast for four. His eyes darkened and he let out a moan of pure satisfaction before tossing them to join the other discarded clothes in the room.
You reached over to the drawer in your nightstand and pulled out a condom that you guessed was his size. Taking the wrapper between your teeth, you ripped the foil in half and pulled the condom out.
A memory from highschool flashed behind your eyes and you got a wicked idea. You made an "O" shape with your lips and suctioned the condom on them. You lowered your head to his cock and started slowly rolling the condom down the head and over the shaft, using your tongue as assistance.
You guessed by the little throb that pulsed inside your mouth that he liked it.
"Fuckin' Fuck!"
You giggled, "So eloquent."
"S-Shut up."
A Little amused sigh was shared between both of you.
This moment was so perfect, and it was about to get even better.
"Are you ready?" You asked genuinely, even though you knew the answer. You just wanted to make sure.
"Jesus Fuckin' Christ yes Y/N. F-fuck me already."
That definitely sounded like consent to you.
You gripped his shaft lightly as you positioned your hips over his in a kneeling stance, the head of his cock just barely beneath your entrance. Without warning, you started sinking him into your warm, wet heat.
Two things happened at that moment. You were overcome with pleasure and nearly collapsed all the way on top of him due to your wobbling knees, and Daryl let out a moan that could only be described as pure fucking bliss. If you were feeling pleasure, he must have been feeling heaven given the sheer volume and force the noise from his lips possessed. You didn't know if Daryl's neighbors could hear him right now, and quite frankly? You didn't give a single fuck. You wanted everyone in this whole godforsaken community to hear how good Daryl was feeling. How good you made him feel. You wanted that asshole Rick and Rosita to know that they got their wish and you were both enjoying every second of it. This spurred you even more, and despite your knees protest, you sunk down on him even slower to prolong the moment. Your eyes rolled back and you whimpered deeply as his meaty dick hit bottom and stretched you out sinfully. As soon as his cock was fully sheathed inside you, His moans turned to whines.
As his body fought for control over itself, he shivered and his hands became restless. At that moment he decided, somewhere deep down in his subconscious, that he was going to spend every second he had buried inside your wet, tight cunt. He was never going to waste another second without the feeling of you around him, whether it be your arms or your sweet pussy. The rest of his days were going to be spent with you. Of course, he didn't voice any of these thoughts. His mouth was too busy telling you how good you made him feel, even if it wasn't with words. He managed to open his eyes only to meet your piercing gaze, full of what appeared to be admiration. And if he wasn't buried inside of you, he could probably cry at your sincerity. He realized you actually cared. He realized you wanted him to enjoy himself. His whole life, no one had ever looked at him like that before you, like he was something to care for. After a moment, Daryl realized you were also searching his face for any signs of discomfort, and his heart melted at the sentiment. He gave you a slight nod and a soft, somewhat awkward smile.
A smile looked foreign on his face, given that he always seemed to be annoyed at one thing or the other. His frown was well known and well joked about between you and the other members of the group, especially Carol. You have very rarely seen even a ghost of a smirk flash across his face. While it was strange to see the happy expression on the mostly angry man, it was not unwelcome. A smile suited him, and you were determined to see it more often.
Agonizingly slowly, you lifted your hips and dropped them back down, the feeling it left resembled fire on your trembling walls. Daryl was laying back with a blissed-out look on his face like a man high on the most exquisite drug money could buy. That's what you felt like to him, a drug, Intoxicating to the point of suffocation, and he could overdose on you at any second. You altered his senses in the best ways possible until he couldn't form a single cohesive thought. Every movement of your insides that was awarded to him sent a jolt of electricity and pleasure up his spine, and he knew his right hand could never compare to this. With every passing second he spent buried inside you, he knew exactly how much you had ruined him.
Nothing could ever make him want it any other way.
You had never felt like this before with anyone.
No man had ever made you feel as empowered as Daryl was right now. Sex with most guys you knew just consisted of them trying to take what they needed from you, and then making up some lame excuse to leave. It always felt like a task for you, leaving you unsatisfied. Daryl was different in every way possible, he gave you everything. At this moment, he bared his entire soul to you, every vulnerability and insecurity on display, a sign of his complete trust. Even though he was a bit out of it, he still ran his hand up and down your back and chest, delicately pinching and caressing your breasts with fervor.
This was more than just sex to you, and it was more than just sex to him. The rhythm, the matching movements, the energy that was radiating in the air, all of it formed itself into the most delicately perfect dance, a waltz of two lovers. You couldn't imagine a better dance partner. Daryl was a masterpiece to you, an awe-striking painting that was made with billions of perfect brush strokes and a quality of paint that only true master artists possessed. He deserved to be admired. He deserved to be recognized. You wanted to paint murals of him and write songs about him, you wanted to capture his every expression in photos and fill the empty spaces of your existence with them. You wanted to be full of him in every way you could be because the laws of imperfection didn't apply to him in your eyes.
You mustered the strength in your arms to pick the camera back up from where it was resting, and bring it to your eye. You wanted to remember this moment forever, and you were going to snap as many photos as it would take for that to happen.
*click*
Daryl whimpered and bucked his hips.
Before you could realize what was happening, Daryl had a surge of coherence and used it to flip you over, keeping up the pace without a hiccup. You were surprised at how fluidly he managed the motion like he had done it a thousand times, even though you know he hadn't. You would be proud if you could muster up a thought that wasn't laced with lust and wanting, however, the rhythm of his snapping hips wouldn't allow that at the moment.
You opened your eyes to take in the sight above you, the camera still in hand. This gorgeous man's woodland brown hair was hanging from his head and swaying in the air with every thrust, and his eyes were strained shut with concentration. There was just enough space between you for you to bring the camera in front of you comfortably and snap a quick picture. His strong shoulders and forearms were flexing deliciously as he held himself above you, and the camera flash made the sweat on them sheen like he was glowing.
That one was going to look great later when you could focus.
You dropped the camera to your side and reached out your hands and placed them on his face, rubbing them over his brow bone and cupping his cheeks in your fingers. His facial tension dissipated the moment your skin came into contact with his, and he opened his eyes to greet the image below him.
"It's okay to go slow, my love. There's no rush. Just feel it. Just feel me." You stated in a husky, almost whispered voice.
He exhaled in response, and the sheer length of the breath served as a reminder of how much smaller than him you actually were.
"Wan' ya to feel good." He informed you, sounding mildly timid, yet still as confident as ever. He smirked at you and punctuated his sentence with a rather cocky roll of his hips that momentarily left you breathless.
"I feel fucking fantastic," you sighed, "I feel like you are wrapped around every piece of Me Daryl. I can feel you in my nerve endings, I can sense you in my lungs. Please don't stop. You make me feel like I am dying in the best way possible." You meant every word and so much more.
Daryl's expression changed from confident to loving in an instant, and he experimentally rolled his hips slower and softer, studying the movement of your face. He spent so long with his eyes shut from the pleasure that he barely got to see what you looked like when he buried himself inside you, and he could kick himself for wasting that time. You looked like a dream with your eyes fixed on his, that pure sexual expression painted on your features. Your hair spread itself out over your charcoal gray pillows and sheets like you were floating in a pool of water. He took notice of how your breasts were warm and sweet like softened butter, the small amount of light in the room cast shadows that contoured your figure perfectly. You looked like a goddess below him, chest heaving and long, feminine lashes blinking. Somewhere along the way, the comforter had been discarded from the bed to the floor, and the sheets had become rustled. They shaped themselves around the outline of you like a renaissance painting of a noble queen, the kind that would have men bowing at her feet.
It was his turn to take a picture.
Daryl leaned back on the balls of his feet and grabbed your thighs so he could pull your hips to meet his once again, letting his touch linger for a moment or two before grabbing that camera that you loved so damn much and charging the flash.
"Stay still." You hear him grumble out under his breath.
You gave him your best sexy pout and felt his cock jump a little inside you.
"F-Fuck," You heard him grunt out once again, "Fuck, you are so- such a-." He pulled the photo from the camera and studied it, shuddering out a breath as you clenched around him slightly. "B-Beautiful."
He dropped the camera down somewhere gently, and honestly, you couldn't care less about the fucking thing right now. All you wanted was to feel him moving inside you again. You didn't have to wait long, because he was back on top of you again in an instant, but this time it was different.
Daryl lowered himself onto his forearms and knees, making sure to bury his head in your neck and hair, keeping his chest connected to yours to the point where you could feel his heartbeat. He wanted to be able to smell your scent all around him when he finished, just like he did with your shirt in that bunker. He wanted to be surrounded by you as much as possible. He wanted to be totally overwhelmed by you. This new position allowed him access to places you didn't know someone could reach, and his moans and whines were bringing you ever closer to your end.
"Close." You struggled the words out, both a warning and a promise.
"Tell me. T-tell me where yer-." He was interrupted by an involuntary moan escaping from his throat, "Tell me where ta T-touch you. Want to help ya. Please I-I'll be good. Promise. Please please please," He trailed off.
He definitely knew how to get what he wanted.
You grabbed his hand and guided it slowly between your legs until the rough pads of his fingers found your clit and you cried out. He began carefully rubbing circles over that spot as he picked up the pace. This was absolutely devastating for you, the feeling of his fingers and his cock working in perfect tandem had you practically crying for him. Daryl's moans were becoming needier by the second. Every time he pressed down on your clit, you clenched around him tighter. You felt like wet velvet. Wet, hot velvet.
"P-Please cum fer me Y/N, want ta know 'M makin' ya feel good. 'M so c-close fer ya. Please let me feel ya cum 'round me." His voice was almost unrecognizable, filled with need. And it sent you over the edge.
Your legs wrapped around his lower back, and your fingernails dug into the flesh of his shoulders, leaving streaks of red in their path. The wave of your orgasm came crashing down around you, clouding all of your senses and making your vision go white. All you could feel is pure pleasure, and Daryl's hair in your fists. He wasn't too far behind.
Your legs constricted around him like a snake ready to strike, but if this is what being poisoned felt like, then he would gladly die right here, like this. The only pain he had ever felt was filled with hate and malice, but as your fingernails raked down his back, the fire he felt made him dizzy. The pleasurable pain spurred him on even more. Your scent surrounded him as he desperately pressed open-mouthed kisses wherever he could reach on your neck and jaw before he felt your sweet pussy pulse around him. The final straw was the feeling of your fingers pulling at his hair, and the coil inside his stomach snapped. He came in thick, hot spurts that forced a small scream from his throat as he humped into you needily. He melded completely into you, and you were so close at that moment, that you didn't even feel like two people, you felt like one.
The scene looked like something out of a movie. The sheets were misplaced and wrinkled, and clothes littered the floor, thrown off in the throes of passion. Countless polaroid pictures were spread out around the bed, surrounding you and Daryl, the camera long forgotten on the floor. You both came down from your high breathing heavily, slick skin now comfortable and chilled in contrast to how feverish you both were a moment ago.
And you just lay there, reveling in each other, in the feeling of one another's presence. Your skin vibrated with the feeling of your afterglow, and you both silently agreed to spend a few moments relaxing.
....
You felt him slowly gain control of his limbs and leave some soft kisses behind your ear. If anyone told you that Daryl fucking Dixon would be so soft and emotional after sex, you would have called them crazy. But right now, as he starts to trail the kisses up your jaw and cheek, making his way to your lips, you would believe anything. When his lips finally do meet yours, it's the sweetest kiss you think you could ever receive. He's so gentle and you can tell that he poured everything he was feeling into it, that way you could feel it too.
The silence was broken by him pulling out of you slowly, and you shuddered at just how empty you felt without him. You both groaned when he left you, and he noticed how you shivered.
"Are ya cold?." He asked, and he looked genuinely concerned.
The sentiment warmed your heart.
"I-," You went to speak but he cut you off.
"Cuz I can get ya a blanket, er I could turn up the heat. Here." With that, he lifted himself off the bed in search of the comforter, covering you with it when he found it.
"Thank you, Daryl, bu-."
"Or I can get ya some food if yer hungry, sumthin ta drink?"
"No no, I'm good baby. I really appreciate it, I do. but jus' want you to come lay with me. please? Hold me? If you want to, that is." You slurred out the words due to exhaustion
"Y-yeah alrigh'."
He went to take off the condom, probably to tie it off and dispose of it, but you couldn't have that. You've been dying to know what he tasted like for way too long.
"No, stop. Let me." You demanded as you sat up, the comforter falling to your lap. "Come here, please."
He complied, walking to the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You reached out and grabbed the tip of the rubber, working it off of his softened shaft slowly.
"Ya better hurry up, or imma get hard again real soon.''
The condom came off and you held it by the top as you opened your mouth, making sure to keep heavy eye contact with Daryl. His cum flowed out of the condom in thick, creamy globs, landing on your tongue in a sizable puddle.
"Fuuucck girl, yer gonna fuckin' kill me," Daryl spoke in his delicious southern drawl.
You fully expected him to stand there and watch you until the condom was empty, but instead, he grabbed your face and pressed your warm lips to his. This utters a noise of surprise from you until you feel his tongue enter your mouth and mingle with yours.
Oh, he wanted to taste himself with you.
That was bringing some familiar feelings bubbling up in your stomach.
You returned the kiss with equal amounts of passion and an eager tongue. The kiss left you both breathless as Daryl pulled away and you drug him down to bed with you. You both laughed lightly when he landed on top of you with an 'oof'. He rolled over on his back and looked at you, waiting for you to cuddle up next to him like you promised you would.
Eventually, you got the hint and made your way under his arm, laying your head on his chest.
Even though Daryl hadn't really cuddled before, it felt natural with you, like breathing. His mind wandered a bit, wondering if you enjoyed your time with him. 'Of course she did, you retard, she was screaming underneath you a few minutes ago.' At least his internal voice was actually helpful for once. He couldn't help but wonder though... Thankfully, he didn't have to.
"I can see your mind moving, sweetheart. Ask what you want to ask."
He was really thankful you could read his mind sometimes.
"Did- Did ya... Enjoy urself?" His reluctance was obvious.
He sounded small when he spoke. You didn't like it.
"Daryl Dixon, I want you to listen to me very closely. That was the best sex I have ever had. You are the best man I have ever been with, and I would definitely like to do it again. With you. In my bed. Or maybe yours. Possibly your new recliner. Your workbench. Maybe against the bike..."
"Alright, Alright. I get it," He let out a low chuckle, his mind put at ease.
The room was silent for a little while as you just enjoyed the silence that was so rare in a world filled with the shambling dead.
...
...
"So the bike, huh?" Daryl asked, laced with humor.
You looked up and met his gaze, smiling deviously.
"If you like that, you would love some of my other ideas."
His interest peaked. "hmm? Tell me all 'bout 'em."
You both chuckled.
"Well, I've seen you flipping that combat knife around..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtain-covered window, it danced across the hardwood floor smoothly. Right away you noticed three things. First, Daryl isn't next to you, which made you feel a bit sad at first. Second, You smelled something absolutely delicious, and you wanted to track down the source of the scent. You noticed the third thing as you were searching for your clothes, Daryl's shirt draped across the nightstand by the bed, which meant he was probably still there. You put it on, along with your discarded sweats from the previous night, and made your way downstairs. The smell got stronger and stronger until you entered the kitchen, the source of the odor. And there he was, standing in front of the stove in a pair of pants and no shirt. Suddenly, the smell wasn't the only thing that was delicious.
Daryl was dishing out pancakes when you walked in, a plate of bacon, and a cup of black coffee sitting next to him. He noticed you immediately and smiled softly. You walked up behind him while he was pouring more coffee from the pot into a second mug, and wrapped your arms around his torso. You noticed the scratches you left on him from the night before, and leaned your cheek on his back, feeling a sense of pride.
"What's all this?" You feigned ignorance.
"'S breakfast. for us." He looked very proud of himself.
If he got any sweeter, you don't think you could handle it.
"This looks delicious, Daryl. You did an amazing job," And you meant it, "You Look pretty damn delicious too."
He chuckled and you could feel his shoulders shake with the action.
"Tell ya what, finish yer greens, and ya can have dessert.'' The last word was a little heavier than the rest of the sentence, and you understood the implications. Who knew Daryl Dixon was so playful?
Having you in such close proximity was driving him wild all over again. He had never been touched so much by someone in such a short amount of time, and feeling your warm skin on his in a domestic environment was making him hotter by the second. He peeked over his shoulder to look at you and when your eyes made contact, he felt that electric spark all over again. You were a sweet little thing, pressing your lips softly against his back and touching his chest like this. He could feel the love radiating between you two, and it was laced with a barely tamed lust.
Were you wearing his shirt?
He might just have to fulfill the promise he made to himself the night before, and get a taste of you for breakfast instead.
How would he even initiate that though? He didn't really know what to do exactly because he was still new to this, but he did know that he wanted his tongue buried inside your moist heat until he couldn't feel it anymore. Do you even like that sort of thing? Would you want that from him? No. No, he wasn't going to let himself overthink this. You liked eager, right? Well, then he was going to be eager for you. He decided that what he lacked in experience when it came to this, he was going to make up for in his desire to make you feel good.
"Daryl, are you ready to eat?"
"Hell yes, I am." He replied to you under his breath.
"What was that bab- Ooh!" The wind was taken from your lungs in surprise as he swiftly turned around, picked you up by your thighs, and set you down on a nearby countertop. The shock factor soon wore off and faded into excited giggles.
"The food is going to get cold," You whined as his palm covered your sex, catching you off guard again.
His mouth came to your ear and you shivered, feeling his breath tickle the skin there.
"Food feels warm ta me." He really hoped you would find this sexy and not stupid. Just in case, he made sure to deepen the tone of his voice just a bit.
You found it very sexy.
He pulled away and made direct eye contact.
Was he really serious about this? Did he actually want to put his mouth on you, or was he playing around? You wondered that for a moment, his eyes bore into you like a needle in some fabric.
And then he slowly sank to his knees...
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Still keeping that intense eye contact, Daryl moved forward on his knees and pulled you to the edge of the counter by your thighs, then started working on the drawstring of your sweatpants.
You had to admit, your brain was short-circuiting a little. Was this really about to happen, or were you dreaming that Daryl Dixon was pulling your pants down from the ankles? The latter was very likely, considering you had dreamed about scenarios like this before, In this kitchen, With him. And he was about to make that dream come true, whether he knew it or not.
He made quick work of discarding your sweats, and you were thankful you had decided to forgo wearing panties today. The shaky nervousness from the previous night had obviously dissipated, and you were definitely glad for it. His gaze had moved from your face down to your cunt, greedily taking in the sight of you, almost as if he was memorizing everything perfectly. You were practically soaked already, and he felt a wave of pride wash over him.
At least he knew you liked this so far.
You grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing his eyes up to look at yours. The feeling of your fingers yanking the roots of his hair was something he could get used to.
"Please Y/N, please let me eat ya out. Ya like when I beg right? 'll be good. Promise. Please? Been dreamin' 'bout how ya taste fer a long time. P-Please use me, use my face, pretty girl."
His admission made you gush. You gripped his hair tighter.
Your tone dropped lower, and your eyes became lustful.
"Open your mouth," You commanded, and he obeyed.
You pushed your hips out, presenting yourself like a five-course meal just waiting to be devoured, and pulled his head forward until his now outstretched tongue rested against your folds. You moaned softly, eyes rolling in the back of your head. His mouth was devilish, lapping up your juices like they were the best thing he had ever tasted. To him, they were.
Daryl was feeling beyond amazing, you had the most exquisite flavor he could imagine, nothing could compare. He sped up his tongue, licking from the bottom of your sweetness, all the way to the top, then flattening over your clit. Your noises got louder, and your fingers pulled him closer by his hair. You chased your pleasure by jutting out your hips, practically grinding yourself on his face. He lifted your legs over his shoulders to give you a better angle on him, to make himself more accessible to use. Every sound you uttered made him swell with even more pride, letting him know he was touching you like you needed. He pushed his tongue inside of you, wiggling it around slowly in experimentation. He noticed you gripped his hair more when he angled it up, so that's what he did. Your thighs sandwiched his head in their pillowy warmth, and it was his turn to groan, although it was muffled by the flesh of your sex. He knew what Merle meant now about eating pussy, This was fucking fantastic.
You fed off of each other's noises and touches, each becoming more eager every time. You were getting close, and Daryl could feel it in how hard your thighs clenched around his head with every movement of his tongue. It was now or never.
Daryl brought his fingers to your entrance and moved his tongue to your clit, slipping two of them inside and curling them upwards slightly like he did before. It was like he had pressed a button when he stroked that spot inside of you, and it made you see stars. Your orgasm hit you so powerfully that you almost went limp when the first wave hit. You spasmed around Daryl's fingers like you had never cum before, your vision went white momentarily and you felt something else coming from inside of you. His fingers continued their motions inside of you, coaxing you through your release. You felt yourself getting wetter, Impossibly so.
Oh shit. Did you just-?
Looking down after you gained control confirmed what you suspected.
"Fuckfuck, Y/N. Wha' the fuck was tha'?" Daryl looked mesmerized, staring down at his now-soaked arm and chest, glistening in the kitchen light.
You were still a little light-headed, so your response was staggered.
"That was-... It's called squirting. It- It happens when a woman gets really aroused." You were still a little out of breath, so all you could do was lightly run your fingers through Daryl's hair, massaging his scalp with your nails. "It means you did a very good job." You closed your eyes for a second and spoke again, "Sorry for not warning you."
...
Daryl's lack of response mildly concerned you until you looked down and he was staring at his hand in what looked like awe. His hand moved closer to his mouth and he was... tasting it? He was sucking on his fingers like his life depended on it, taking as much of your juices in as he could.
"Mmm, fuck. Ya taste better 'n ice cream," He spoke, his words muffled by his fingers.
You responded with an amused chuckle, pulling him back up to stand in between your legs. Deciding it was your turn to taste yourself in his mouth, you pulled him in for a soft kiss, tongues mingling affectionately.
"We should probably clean up a little and eat," You suggested, remembering the food that was probably ice cold by now.
Daryl offered a satisfied grunt and kissed you quickly before wandering off to look for a towel.
You couldn't be happier.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The food was, in fact, ice cold by the time you got around to it. However, considering the fact that your legs wobbled a bit when you walked, you couldn't care less about how warm breakfast was. You would do it all over again.
You both talked about what the plans were for this week. Runs, weapons training, and the box of motorcycle parts Daryl found a few days ago in an old auto body shop. Somewhere during the conversation, you realized just how domestic this was, like you two were a married couple spending the morning together.
You liked it.
You loved it.
You loved him.
You both made it about halfway through your meal before you were ever so rudely interrupted by a slight knock at the front door. With an annoyed sigh, you padded your way there across the hardwood floor and unlocked the knob while twisting it. When you opened the door, Rick was standing on the porch, hands resting by his sides.
Rick took notice of your choice of clothing, specifically Daryl's shirt. He decided to play dumb anyway. He knew damn well that Daryl went to see you after he talked to Rosita because Rosita told him so.
"Can I help you with something, Rick?" You sounded mildly annoyed, which made him smile a bit.
"Have you seen Daryl 'round? 've been lookin' for 'im. Wonderin' if he maybe went out without tellin' someone again."
Before you could answer, you felt the presence of warm hands on your sides and a chin resting on your head.
"Ya found me," Daryl sounded annoyed too, "Ya need sum?"
You melted into Daryl's touch a little and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Rick. You could tell that Daryl's PDA put him off track for a second or two before that shitty grin of his returned even stronger. God, you wanted to punch him.
"I was jus' lookin' for you so we could go over the plans for the supply run in a few days," His words were filled with smarm, "But it can wait for later."
Daryl spoke before you had the chance to.
"Good, See ya later," Daryl closed the door before Rick could spout more bullshit, pulling you closer to him and sniffing your hair.
Who was this affectionate man and what had he done with the hardass you knew?
You both could hear Rick laughing as he walked off the porch, and Daryl groaned into your neck.
"'M gonna beat 'is ass later. can' believe he talked me inta goin' ta tha' damn party."
You laughed a little. "As much as I hate to say it, you should probably be thanking him. I mean. some good definitely came of it."
"Oh my god, you're right," He spoke sarcastically, fake shock playing in the undertones of his voice.
You stood there for a minute, laughing in his arms and reveling in the attention he was giving you. You had never seen him like this, so happy and loving, He seemed like a completely different person right now. Somewhere deep down, you knew this side of him would be reserved for only you, and it made the moment all the more special to you.
In truth, Daryl had never felt like this before. Of course, he felt love towards the group, but it was a familial kind of love, This was different somehow. He wanted to be your partner, your best friend, and your backup in dangerous situations. He wanted to patch up your cuts, share a beer with you, and protect you when you needed it. But most of all, he wanted to give you everything you could ever want from him. Whether that was a life of fighting and hunting or a white picket fence with a few kids, It didn't matter to him as long as it was with you.
Daryl picked you up by your legs, still giggling, and carried you deeper into the house to spend as much time as he could with you before you both had to face the life that waited for you both outside.
Neither you nor Daryl would have ever guessed that the dead would rise up and bring the apocalypse,
Neither of you ever thought you would find a family from a group along the way,
And neither of you ever guessed you would find love in a world where it was lacking.
And honestly?
Neither of you would want it any other way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"That was a genius idea, I have to admit," Rick spoke with playful admiration.
"I told you it would work, that girl has a serious thing for formal wear... and for Daryl," Rosita stated with a hint of smarm in her voice.
Rosita, tired of her best friend's shit, came to Rick a few weeks ago and they devised a plan. Rick's job was to throw a bullshit party for the newcomers and get Daryl to shower and wear normal clothes, Which Rosita knew would be easy once he mentioned you, then all they had to do was push you two towards each other all night. The outcome of that evening may not have been what they expected, but regardless, the result was still the same. At least now Rick didn't have to witness Daryl pine for you from afar, and Rosita didn't have to deal with you talking about him all the time and never doing anything. And what better entertainment was there than matchmaking during the end of the world.
Rick, who had placed a bet that Rosita's plan wouldn't work, pulled out her winnings from his jacket pocket, placing the chocolate bar in her hand, which she received with a smug smile. He really thought it would take Daryl a bit longer to lock this down, but this is what he gets for doubting his brother, and Rosita's matchmaking skills.
"As promised," He uttered in his southern drawl. "A bet well won."
"Thank youuuu Grimes," Rosita remarked sarcastically while tearing open the wrapper.
A few short seconds of comfortable silence passed before Rick spoke up with a genuine smile instead of his usual grin.
"It's nice to see them happy, they deserve it."
Rosita finished chewing her mouthful and swallowed to reply.
"Yeah. they do.... and so do you."
"Oh no, I know where this is going." If Rosita brought up Michonne one more time, he swore to God.
"Soooooo.... Michonne?"
"Goodbye Rosita." Rick had enough of this.
"Aww, c'mon! hear me out! So, she has been complaining about the lack of toothpaste, and I was thinking..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N
sorry this took so long to write, School sucks, and yadda yadda. To be honest, I just lost the motivation to write for a long time. I have shit grammar and my spelling is a hit or miss. English is IN FACT my first language, although you wouldn't be able to tell that from my writing. No amount of Grammarly can help me at this point, Fuck formatting anyway. No beta, we die like the show's ratings after season 7. Please enjoy and be sure to point out any mistakes in the comments so I can fix them.
#daryl dixion x reader#daryl x reader#rick grimes#walking dead#daryl dixon#twd daryl#twd fanfic#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon fic#daryl dixon fanfic#twd#x reader#female reader#reader insert#the walking dead fanfic#daryl dixon x reader#daryl smut#fanfiction#fanfic#rosita espinosa#rosita twd#rick grimes twd#x reader smut#smut fic#rick twd
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need pt 2 of the arranged marriage wit toji im begging
THE WAY YALL BLEW THAT UP AND I DIDNT THINK IT WAS GOOD OMG <333333 HERE IS MORE I HOPE I PUT THE SAME CRACK IN THIS ONE
Arranged marriageAU!Toji x reader PART 2
CW: Toji had gone on a business trip just when you and Megumi get sick, what will you do
You knew it was going to be a bad weekend when you woke up in the middle of the night to a raging fever. You squinted at your phone as you picked it up - 3 am. Fuck.
Megumi slept soundly on the baby monitor thankfully. A sick baby while you were sick was not something you wanted to deal with. Toji was away on a work trip this weekend and wouldn't be home until monday so in the event something were to actually happen this would not be the weekend for it.
You crept to the kitchen, throwing back Tylenol and brewing some tea. Every muscle and bone in your body ached, your head swam and you could feel a sheen of sweat along your skin.
As you sipped your tea and the Tylenol kicked in, slowly you were feeling better. Things could be worse but for the moment you could deal.
Until the faint sound of crying hit your ears. You leaned your head back preparing yourself for what you knew was coming.
Quickly you went up the stairs and to Megumi's room. His crying only got louder as you opened the door to see him standing in his crib, his face flushed red as tears stained his cheeks.
"Megumi baby what's wrong?" You felt the heat radiating off of him as you picked him up. "You have a fever too don't you?" He wailed as you tried to feel his forehead and to your dismay he was definitely feverish. You cooed at him as your tried to soothe his screaming.
"Maybe a bottle will help 'Gumi? Do you want a bottle?" He took a short breath before wailing again as you took him downstairs to the kitchen. It was safe to assume you weren't going back to sleep.
It was hard to do anything while he flailed and screamed in your ear. "Megumi it's okay you're okay baby but I gotta put you down for a second." you placed him on the floor beside you but he only then stood, gripping your leg as he wailed. You felt terrible to say the least.
You made his bottle as quickly as you could with him latched to you. A few drops of children's Tylenol to hopefully soothe his raging fever.
"Okay baby come here. You want up?" His cries died off as you picked him up and gave him the bottle. The tears dried and you paced around as you bounced him, hoping to soothe him back to sleep.
Eventually his eyes closed, and quietly you walked up the stairs and to his room. Just as you set him down and went to walk away his eyes opened and he cried once again. "Megumi, I don't know what to do." You picked him up again, his cries softened to sniffles as you bounced him. Your body ached with every movement.
He settled, his head resting on your shoulder but his eyes still open. The sun would be up but you were both riding on no sleep and a tired Megumi was not something you needed on top of you both being sick.
Walking to your room you tried to lay him down in your bed with you but he only cried. Sighing you stood and picked him up again. "I don't know how to help gumi. I'm right here. Mama doesn't feel good either." Nothing soothed him.
The entire day continued. Your own fever raged on, your head pounding as Megumi cried and wailed at every point. You had never wished so badly for Toji to be home.
It was late in the evening now on saturday, Toji wasn't supposed to be home until monday but you couldn't do this. You could feel yourself getting irritated and upset. It wasn't Megumi's fault and it wasn't your own either.
You stared at his contact on your phone. Would he be mad? Would he even do anything to help? He probably wouldn't even answer. Sighing you pressed the call button, Megumi crying in your other ear as you tried to soothe him at the same time.
It rang and rang, you felt tears brimming as you listened to it. He wasn't going to pick up. You pulled it away from your ear ready to hang up.
"Y/N? Is everything okay?" His deep voice sounded through the phone, you could have cried. You wanted to. You were.
Sniffling you stuttered trying to find your words. "Toji I'm sorry I-I-"
"What's wrong? Is that Megumi crying?" You didn't even notice the concern in his voice, over the tears and crying.
"Toji can you come home please? I can't-"
Before you could even finish he cut you off. "I'll come home immediately. It'll be a couple hours though. Are you going to be okay or do you want me to call someone?"
A sob left you, you couldn't even think you were so tired. "I-I'll manage for a little longer I think. I'm so tired Toji."
"I know mama, you're doing good. I'll be there soon okay? If you change your mind and want me to call someone I will just text me okay."
A shuddering breath left you, Megumi's own hiccups from crying sounded into the phone. "okay, thank you.."
"I gotta hang up now. Text me if you need anything okay?" The call ended and silent tears left you quietly as you pushed the damp hair out of Megumi's eyes. Both of you were feverish and no medication was bringing it down. "dada is coming home. You miss dada Megumi?" His little hands rubbed his wet eyes as you swayed softly hoping to soothe him. "I miss him too baby."
What you didn't know was Toji had missed you too. Since that night in his room, he's only been plagued with thoughts of you. He thought going on this work trip that he originally had not agreed to would allow him to put space between you two. To build the walls around his heart again but here you were, melting it. He had never moved so quickly after hearing you crying through the phone.
It had been an hour, then two, then three. It was pushing midnight and Megumi's cries never stopped. No matter what you did he continued. You had cried with him. Had cried even hard when he was sick all over you. He cried even harder when you had to quickly put him down to rush to the bathroom to be sick yourself.
Relief swept over you as the lock turned and Toji's large frame came into view. He kicked off his shoes and threw down his bag before swiftly moving towards you. Still in his suit, not even taking a moment to strip off his jacket. His hand cradled the back of your head as he pulled you and a crying Megumi into him. Kissing the top of your head, he mumbled against you. "You did good mama. Let me take him."
You mind reeled at the affection but you were too tired and too sick to say anything. Toji took Megumi from you, mumbling something to him as his tears slowed. "Come upstairs." You nodded, following behind him. At the top of the stairs you went to turn towards the hall with Megumi's room but Toji grabbed your hand with his free one. "Come this way."
You looked at him with large eyes but followed him anyway. He pulled you along to his room, past the sitting room, into the bedroom and then the large bathroom. Toji dropped your hand, still holding on to a sniffling Megumi who had stopped crying for the time being. He opened a door, pulling down two black fluffy towels and placing them on the toilet beside the shower. He even went as far as to start the shower.
"I'll take care of Megumi. Take some time to relax." He left the room shutting the door before you could even register what happened.
The shower was heaven, somehow the water pressure in his room was so much better and you knew you would be sneaking in here when he was gone to use it. You felt refreshed and mildly human again, still lightheaded and ill but not so yucky.
You wrapped the fluffy black towel around yourself before realizing you didn't bring clean clothes in here. It wasn't like Toji had never seen you in a towel or naked for that matter but it still felt odd to just walk out only in a towel.
Cracking the door open a tiny bit only to see Toji sitting on the bed, legs spread as his elbows rested on his upper thighs, still sitting in his suit. He looked up at you through the door as it opened. "Feel better?"
You opened the door all the way and nodded. "Yes thank you."
Toji nodded back before handing you a pile of clothes. "Here, I grabbed some clothes for you." You nodded your thanks before slipping back into the bathroom to change. Heat rushed to your face, surely not because of the fever, when you looked at the clothes. The black shorts were yours but the large black t-shirt was definitely his, it smelled like him too. A little too happily you slipped it on. It covered your shorts but it was so comfortable and soft.
You opened the door once again, holding your towel in your hand as you tried to dry your hair. Toji stood, towering you as he held out his hand. "Give me the towel." Unnerved you handed it over, he threw it into a basket in the corner of the room before turning you around and leading you back towards the bathroom mirror.
Toji moved around you, pulling out a hair dryer and plugging it in. Turning it on, he pointed it at your hair, softly moving through the strands. This moment felt more intimate then any time you had sex with him. The image was also a little funny. A huge intimidating man in a suit drying his wife's hair. Well forced wife. That thought ruined the cuteness of the moment.
You could feel your eyes getting heavy as he worked. "Oh wait, where's megumi?" Your eyes snapped up to look at him in the mirror.
He chuckled low. "I gave him some medicine and put him to bed. I grabbed the baby monitor from your room. I'll worry about Megumi."
Toji wrapped up the hairdryer putting it away once he was finished. You followed him out of the room and stopped short as he pulled back the fluffly comforter on his bed as if he was about to go to sleep in his suit.
"Well I guess I'll go to bed now. Are you sure you don't want me to take care of Megumi?"
He turned to look at you, his hands resting in his pockets. "No. I want you to rest."
You nodded and turned around to leave the way you had entered his room.
"Where are you going?" Turning to look at him as he had taken steps towards you as if to stop you if you got too far from him. "To bed?"
A smirk crossed his face. "You're sleeping in here."
"What? I-"
"I wasn't asking." Your eyes widened at his words but you followed as he beckoned you over.
You got under the blankets where he had pulled them back, hating how much more comfortable it was. Toji pulled the blankets up and over you before moving to turn on the lamp beside you and turning off the big light in the room.
"I'm going to shower. Go to sleep. If Megumi wakes knock on the door and I'll go check on him. Understood?" His voice was stern but there was an underlying softness to his words.
You nodded, not being able to hide how heavy your eyes felt. "Take this first mama" He handed you a pill and some water, choking it down before resting your head on the pillow once again.
He slipped into the bathroom and you slipped into a slumber.
Your eyes weakly opened as light from the bathroom shined into the room, framing Toji's body, making the water on his skin glisten. He looked almost otherworldly from your perspective. You could barely see the smirk that played on his lips. "Go back to sleep doll, I didn't mean to wake you."
Mumbling something in coherently you closed your eyes, his soft chuckling floating through the quiet room.
It could have been ten minutes or an hour since he came out of the bathroom but you couldn't mistake the way the blankets moved and the bed dipped next to you as Toji got comfortable next to you. You were much to tired to object to the way he placed his hand on your forehead to feel your temperature, or the way your body shook from chills.
"You awake doll? You're shaking."
Somehow you forced out a, "cold" through your sleepiness.
But you didn't protest when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against his warm and bare skin. You also didn't have any control over the content hum that left your body at the feeling of him against you.
You had fallen back asleep before hearing the soft chuckle that left his lips or the wide smirk that crossed them. "What am I gonna do with you doll."
Tag list for those who requested a part 2: @acroso @chilichopsticks @freshscrumptiousgoateepeanut @kodzukenwhore @maskedpacific @jdasiilva @xdrcula @jdjsj377777
#jjk x reader#fushiguro toji#jjk men#jjk toji#toji x reader#toji x you#jjk fluff#jjk#arranged marriage#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk fushiguro
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Hear me out
What about a moth! reader
Like the moth from sky! Children of the light that likes to fly around the hotel and honk at people sense they can't speak
And them giving candles as a way to ask"do you wanna be friends??"
(this is my first time ever requesting something so sorry if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ignore this くコ:彡)
……ANON MARRY ME RN CAUSE I USE TO PLAY THE HELL OUT OF THAT GAME!! RN MARRY ME
HAZBIN HOTEL X MOTH COTL! READER
prompt: a cute moth character enters the ring of hell due to a malfunction of the realms
STORY MODE: you were celebrating days of love as your ikemen softly puts a flower crown on your head as you honk happily. You hugged the Ikemen as he hugs you back, lifting you for a hug spin as he chuckles lowly.
He lifted you on his back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He pointed towards the valley realm as they wanted to celebrate your one year anniversary together. You started to spam honk excitedly as the Ikemen nods and runs into the realm. But something went wrong.
END OF STORY MODE: You just stand there as you smell blood and fire in the air. You were confused as you didn’t see your beloved Ikemen anywhere which made you honk out loud…you didn’t see their name either. You inhaled all the air you could and let out a big HONK! That got you the attention of a fellow moth man who smirked behind you. You jolted with a quick honk as Valentino poked your mask. “My my my~ what a cute little thing you are.” Valentino says picking you up like a child.
You didn’t want to die so immediately you pulled out your candle. That made Valentino drawn to the candle as he squeaks happily at the candle and take it. Before Valentino could talk to you, an arm grabbed you and sped away.
Who was the culprit who took you, it was Angel dust in his pink scooter. (A/n: don’t question the scooter) Angel heard that big ass honk and a light as he was curious and went to go look for it only to see you shaking in Valentino’s hold. He didn’t want to save you, but your small frame was shaking and he couldn’t stand it so he had to save you.
And now you are part of the hotel’s crew as they greet you with open arms.
Angel loves you dearly, you immediately warmed up to him giving him a bright white candle as his eyes shined at the light of the candle shaping like a heart. So when Angel took it and it dissolved in his hands. You were so happy you kept spam hugging him.
You literally follow all the members like a first time moth, holding out a candle as you want more friends!
Fat nuggets just oinks and follows you. You pet the cute demon pig who licks your hand back
CHARLIE LOVESSS YOUU😭💗 she picked you up and you honk hugging her back.
Vaggie admires you as well. You seem like a reliable person to bring hopes up.
Lucifer adores you..I mean you are just so affectionate. He immediately accepted the candle and he lifted you up. Kissing your head and gushing over you with tears yelling “I WANNA ADOPT THEM!”
I headcannon Charlie and Lucifer debating which color scheme suits you better as they try to take off your brown moth cape as you honk at them.
I always headcannon skykid moths to be at least like 4’9 and every time they gain winged light they get taller. 🦆✨but since you aren’t in the Sky cotl universe, you are so small so literally they treat you like a kid.
You know like your light decreases when a dark creature hits it or like basically darkness. (Especially during that damn fire trial😐) I can imagine moth! Reader having a night light that Lucifer made you with a duck light shining on the ceiling so you feel safe.
Husk doesn’t even understand what the fuck you are doing by honking at him and following him around constantly with a bright ass white candle.
Husk eventually accepted the candle which made you hug him alot..and oddly husk liked it. Now you gained a drunk uncle.
BIG HEADCANNON THAT VALENTINO WILL TRY TO ADOPT YOU, BUT ANGEL IS DEAD ASS SHAKING HIS HEAD NO AS THE OTHER CREW MEMBERS PROTECT YOU FROM THE GRASP OF THIS MOTH DEMON
As you kept getting adopted by random people, your ikemen was going around every season area asking other skykids have they seen you as he has a missing poster of you….poor Ikemen looks down seeing the flower bracelet you made him.
Back to you as you are making the whole crew paper bracelets thanks to Charlie’s trust exercises and activities.
I can see sir Pentious and you getting along to the point sir Pentious is like a caretaker when you don’t have anyone to be with. Even his egg boiz love to hang with you. Even if they don’t understand you.
You one time big honked and every light flickered since a ring of light was around you. So now the cast is little bit cautious at how “powerful” you are
Alastor would think you eat human/sinner meat as he would bring it to you, noting you don’t eat anything. 😭 DO YOU GUYS KNOW THAT GAGGING CAT?! THATS YOU WHEN YOU SMELT THE MEAT-
Alastor was so offended but he should’ve guessed that you weren’t a cannibal.
Niffty was teaching you how to clean and you accidentally drank bleach making niffty literally chase you around worried as you run.
You actually one time lost your light as you were crouched on the floor. Immediately Lucifer grabbed you up scared that you were dying as your body got out of the state and into your regular appearance.
Tbh Lucifer thought you was a scary demon crawling for your life, until you honked is when he realized it was his moth friend.
You fly around honking as you help razzle and dazzle with putting up banners. Razzle and dazzle pick you up if you don’t have enough energy to fly. You guys are flying buddies is what I headcannon.
I imagine husk is sleeping and you glide down from the stairs as you honk softly in his ear to wake him up. He grumbles at first so you decided to do a big honk. You inhaled as a ring of light surrounds the place as the honk rings out in the hotel.
“GAH!” Husk yells falling off the couch grabbing you as he thought you were trouble to only find out there wasn’t no problems. He grumbles angrily at you.
You once flew down like Batman and Angel recorded it founding it adorable.
Charlie had noticed you like to collect candles so she bought a stack of candles which made your eye light up and immediately run to your room with them.
Your mask definitely falls off your face, so imagine the whole hotel’s cast reaction to your face just being completely black with eyelashes (bruh skykid’s eyelashes are so damn pretty and long 😭)
When you went with Charlie to meet with the angels, Adam raised a brow at you because he never seen a “demon” like you. But he didn’t feel any angelic or demonic energy off you.
“What’s up lil dude…where’s your mama?” Adam says teasing you as he pats your head while Charlie watching nervously. You just honk at him and pull out a big white candle. Lute and Adam glanced at each other as Adam took it. The candle dissolved into a circle as Adam felt warm. You honk happily and hugged him.
“So can I keep this little shit?” Adam says to Charlie. “WHAT NO?!-”
I headcannon you once did the backflip emote and they all applaud you like “oh wow!”
Alastor and Lucifer are the smart ones to try to get you to call them dad…but you just honk and hug them like a little child happy to see them.
Of course Valentino is blowing Angel’s phone asking him if he seen a moth like demon….
Lucifer made you a duck cape. Like the cape was heaven sky blue with duck patterns in it. He found it so cuteee! 🦆💗
You honked madly at fat nuggets as the pig had eaten up your brown cape making angel dust make you a pink cape. It was bedazzled and it didn’t look like the sakura or valley cape you see other skykids wore once
#sky: children of the light#that game sky#sky children of the light#sky kid#sky cotl#skykid moth#Sky cotl moth#moth! reader#sky children of the light moth#cotl x hazbin hotel#cotl x reader#cotl! reader#hazbin hotel x cotl! reader#hazbin hotel x moth! reader#hazbin charlie#hazbin hotel#hazbin vaggie#hazbin husk#hazbin lucifer#hazbin vox#hazbin angel dust#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x platonic!reader#hazbin hotel x male reader#hazbin hotel x child reader#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel headcanons
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shadow of a heart | luke castellan.
pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader
summary: luke’s last day at camp and everything that comes with it.
wc: 3.1k
warnings: book spoilers and (shocker) luke being a bit toxic but its all internally
a/n: this is based on cosmic love by florence and the machine !! aka one of my fave songs of all time. sorry ik i disappeared for a while :( i hope this fic is good enough as an apology <33 also i think it is impossible for me to not talk about the stars and sky in a fic …
Luke could swear his heart was about to burst out of his chest. The sound of unclaimed children snoring and the sight of his siblings peacefully sleeping didn’t seem to help him calm down, he ran a hand through his face before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. He couldn’t risk fucking this day up. After all, waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and with his heart running a marathon wasn’t the most pleasant way to kick off his last day at camp. His last day ever.
“Don’t fail, Son of Hermes. Unless you’re a coward,” The Titan’s voice rang in his ears, causing his breathing to come out short and his chest to rise up and down at a fast pace. Luke gasped for air, pressing his free hand against his chest.
His body reacted faster than his brain. His mind blinding him with a fog of fear. Fear of not being strong enough for the Titan Lord. Fear of being too weak to take out the scorpion he currently had hidden under his bunk. Fear of losing his only family. Fear of losing you.
Luke had to take a second to remember the reasoning behind his actions. Reminding himself to not be scared, because why should he be scared? The gods should be scared, not him. If they hadn’t neglected and abandoned their children he wouldn’t have to do this. How dare they make him feel scared? After everything they’ve done to him, after all his losses, after all the times he had to press his hand against his mouth in the shower to muffle his sobs… why should Luke be scared?
His heart slowly returned to its normal pace and Luke took advantage of it to throw his bedsheets to the side and step out of his bunk, walking in careful steps towards the door, making sure to skip over the pieces of wood that always creaked under his feet. The six years he spent under the roof of the Hermes Cabin helping him learn the best ways to sneak out without getting caught.
At least something good came out of it, he thought.
And even if he got caught, what would the children do? They admired him. He was The Strong and Brave Luke Castellan, the most skilled swordsman in the last three hundred years. The campers would be too intimidated to rat out their counselor.
The certainty of his dominance over the campers was enough to fuel his last steps and open the door. Luke was greeted with a starry sky and a quiet night, the wood nymphs not humming in their sleep for probably the first time ever. He thought this was fitting. Camp Half-Blood being quiet on his last day. It’s almost as if the Camp was silently begging him not to leave.
Look at us. Look at how quiet it will be. Look at how dark the safe haven of the demigods will become. You’ll take the stars with you when you leave.
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the loud thoughts he was having. Luke had it all planned out, all he had to do was pack his things and leave.
No.
All he had to do was pack his things, make sure the Son of Poseidon dies, betray his sweet and brave little sister, betray you.. and leave.
Stay. Just stay. It won’t be dark if you stay. Don’t take the stars away from your family.
Luke was sure he was going crazy. He probably has been for a long time but he became certain of it when he gave up everything just to prove his loyalty to The Titan Lord.
But despite all the rage he had inside him, a part of him wanted to run straight to the Big House and tell Chiron all about his wrongdoings. He wanted to get on his knees and repent for stealing The Master Bolt and The Helm of Darkness. He wanted to cry into your arms and reassure you of all the love he held for you.
How could a silent camp be so loud at the same time?
Luke walked to the combat arena and took Backbiter out of its hilt. The weight of it not even coming close to the weight he felt on his shoulders. His hands shook as he stared at the blade, the mix of tempered steel and celestial bronze making him feel sick. A feeling of impending doom settling in his gut.
“It can kill mortals, demigods, and immortal divine beings,” He remembered his master’s words. Luke’s reflection on the blade stared back at him, his scar being more prominent than usual.
Was he cursed? Maybe he was doomed from the moment he was born.
He was fourteen years old when he stopped believing in salvation. The thought of there being a paradise where he’d end up happy and in peace seemed impossible to him, almost unimaginable. He had been fighting his entire life, not ever knowing peace or unconditional love a day of it. Sure, he assumed his mother loved him before she turned into... whatever she was now. But he stopped believing in the goodness of the world when he packed his bags at just nine years old and ran away from his house. After all, that’s what it always was: a house, not ever really a home.
He was sixteen when he found his home. After two years of grieving Thalia’s death and sobbing silently in the showers—not ever daring to let Annabeth see him as weak, he found his home. He met you. Someone who would listen when he’d ramble about his mother’s homemade sandwiches and cookies, the ones he always claimed were “Kinda bad and didn’t miss at all,” never forgetting to mention that his mentally unstable mother is probably so far gone by now and probably doesn’t even remember the recipe.
Luke twirled the sword with his right hand, trying to get comfortable with the newfound weight. He stared at Backbiter, noticing how it even made him feel scared, the darkness it held made him want to sneak into the Forge and melt it down.
He tried to calm himself down by remembering one of the thousand times he shared stories about his mother while you silently listened.
“I mean it, she thought those sandwiches were the peak of cuisine and yeah, I was nine so I guess it probably was, but... really? She could’ve done so much better. I suppose I can’t blame her for it, I would be a mediocre parent if someone like Hermes was co-parenting with me,” He explained while playing with your hair, his slender fingers moving in a delicate way while he kept his eyes on the campers risking their lives as they flew higher than they should with their pegasi.
You didn’t miss the way he laced his tone with disgust when he said his father’s name, but you knew better than to reprimand him for it. “Beckendorf is totally going to fall off that damned horse,” You chose the safe answer, changing the direction of the conversation to something more lighthearted.
Luke snorted next to you before poking your side with his free hand, “You’ve been in this camp for three years and you’re still calling them horses? Gods, what would Zeus say?” You could hear his smile even though he tried to mask it in his faux angry statement.
“What would Zeus say? I’m sure you would love to know, Castellan. You should ask him in two weeks,” You replied, turning your head to the left to face him and poking him in the chest. You took notice of Luke rolling his eyes when you reminded him of the most dreaded time of the year: The annual winter solstice visit to Mount Olympus.
“Don’t tempt me, angel. I’ll even tell him my sweet girlfriend was the one who ordered me to ask him about it,” He said, before leaning closer to you and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, his hand moving from your hair to your jaw, caressing it in the tender way he always did.
“Alright, alright. I get it, you win.”
A bright smile made its way to Luke’s face, “Just another day on the job.”
“Just another day of you being a huge—” Your statement was interrupted by a loud thud and the sound of campers screaming, begging for a medic. The two of you were quick to stand up and run to the stables just to be greeted with the sight of a group of campers surrounding a clearly injured Charlie Beckendorf.
“Fuck, Beckendorf. I’ll go check if there is a free spot in the infirmary for you but you need to be more careful when you play around with that horse.” You turned around, trying to ignore how worried you felt for your Son-of-Hephaestus friend, ready to sprint all the way to the Apollo Cabin.
You were a few feet away from the stables when you heard a yell coming from behind you, “It’s a Pegasus, baby!”
You screamed back a “Shut the fuck up, Castellan!” and tried to ignore the wide eyes you got from the younger campers who heard the not so pleasant word come out of your mouth.
Luke didn’t know how long he spent in the combat arena trying to get comfortable with the weight and darkness Backbiter had, but the sun was out and shining its bright rays down on Camp Half-Blood by the time he finally got tired. He panted and closed his eyes as he felt a wave of exhaustion take all over his body.
He just didn’t know if he was exhausted from training or exhausted from keeping secrets from you.
“Don’t get mad but that new sword looks kinda..” Your voice had him snapping his eyes open, the sight of you walking towards him making his body feel lighter. Luke felt so relieved to see you that he considered dropping down to his knees and breaking down crying over the weight he was carrying. If he hadn’t been in a public space he might as well have done it.
“It looks kinda?” He answered, running the back of his hand through his forehead, trying to get rid of the sweat trickling down from his hair.
“Kinda shit,” You continued. “I think the sword being double edged is cool but it’s stupid to have that. When would we ever maim a mortal? The tempered steel is useless.”
Luke gave you a small smile before looking away from you. When would we ever maim a mortal? You’d be surprised, he thought. He looked up again to meet your eyes, a frown taking over your features. Luke’s heart sank when he saw your worried demeanor.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” You whispered, walking closer to him and cupping his cheeks, running your thumb under his scar before leaning closer to him and kissing it.
Luke hummed at the sensation, he always felt less ashamed of himself and his actions whenever you kissed his scar or caressed it. He didn’t understand why but he liked having the knowledge of someone not seeing the scar as proof of his blatant failure, he liked knowing you saw the scar as another beautiful part of him—a part you loved.
He turned his head to the left, kissing the palm of your hand and replying with a low, “Don’t worry about it. You know how I always get when it’s the last day of Camp for the summer campers.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Luke always felt sick whenever this day arrived because he knew half of the campers he met this year wouldn’t be coming back. They’d be lucky if they even survived all the way to December.
“No, Castellan. I will worry about it. If it’s important to you then it is important to me,” you answered, matching his low tone as you stared into his eyes, feeling captivated by the light they held inside of them. You were sure a star fell straight into them and that’s why they always reflected light and love.
Luke sighed and took your hand that was cupping his cheek, intertwining it with his. “Fuck, I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself.
“You do know I’ll come back to camp for Christmas, right? Plus, we can Iris Message whenever you want. You don’t have to miss me, Luke,” you reminded him. Luke almost keeled over and vomited at the knowledge of you thinking you’ll see him again in Camp.
“I always miss you, angel. I’m even missing you right now,” Luke answered, leaning down to steal a quick kiss just to be stopped by a hand pressed to his chest. “What the fuck?”
“You’re sweaty as shit, Castellan. Go take a shower and maybe I’ll let you kiss me when you’re done.” That was enough motivation for Luke to mutter an annoyed “Fine,” and walk to the showers.
Luke spent more time under the showerhead than usual. It was his last day at camp, he reminded himself. He deserved to take a long cold shower without the worry of Mr. D getting mad at him for “Wasting the cold water on just himself.” He could use all the water he wanted because he was never going to step a foot inside this place ever again.
Plus, he could use this alone time to think. Think about the finality today will bring. An end to his years at camp. An end to his loyalty to the gods. An end to his bond with Annabeth. An end to his relationship with you.
That’s probably what scares him the most–the thought of you deciding to go against him. He doesn't know if he should let you know about the things that were bound to happen tonight or if he should just keep you in the dark.
Two frightening options: Bringing you to the light and showing his true self to you or keeping you in the shadows.. never fully knowing how broken and rotten he truly is.
He tried to not think about the second option for too long. Because even if you did find out and he went through with Kronos’s plan causing the sky to remain starless forever, he knew you would choose to stay in the shadows for him. He trusted you and knew you would rather stay in the darkness than go against him.
The rest of his day went by faster than he wanted. He sparred with a few campers, got used to Backbiter’s weight by fighting some training dummies in the combat arena, spent time with his siblings, and sat next to you in the dining pavilion. It all seemed like a normal day at Camp Half-Blood.
Well, at least that’s how it felt until Percy Jackson came back from his visit to Mount Olympus.
The campers celebrated his return by lighting up fireworks and cheering his name every two seconds. It all made Luke feel sick. Why didn’t he get treated like that when he came back from his quest? All he got was a scar, looks of pity, and dead quest companions.
No heroic welcome and no fireworks. Just burnt shrouds, mourners, and a feeling of self-loathing taking all over him.
“Hey,” your voice made him drag his gaze away from the green fireworks lighting up the night sky. He turned his head to the right, meeting your eyes and raising a brow.
“I am pretty sure you owe me a kiss,” he said in a playful tone, taking notice of how the light of the fireworks illuminated your face just right, making the light look like a halo around you.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it is impossible for there to be no light and for the sky to be starless. There will always be light as long as your heart is beating and your eyes are set on him.
“Huh, do I? I don’t think I do,” you replied, biting your lip trying to prevent a smile from taking over your face.
“Oh, shut up,” Luke answered, finally taking your face in his hands and kissing you. He almost fell to his knees at the feeling of your lips moving against his. The kiss was like a comet’s trail, leaving behind luminous particles of Luke’s hidden secrets and unspoken desires.
You pulled away first, trying to catch your breath as you kept your eyes closed and your forehead pressed against his. “What’s wrong?” you whispered, asking him the same question you did in the morning.
“Why do you ask?” Luke answered in between pants, his breathing uneven due to the intensity of the kiss you shared.
“You were.. somewhere else when I walked here. Lost inside your pretty little mind,” you explained. Luke hummed when he heard your answer.
“I just,” he sighed, pulling his forehead away from yours by raising his head. “What would you–” he cut himself off. “Never mind.”
“No, it’s fine. I want to hear it.”
“What would you do if you woke up one day and the earth was consumed by darkness? And I mean complete darkness, no sun and no stars.”
“Holy shit. Did you hang out with the Apollo and Athena cabin?” you held back an amused laugh.
“Just humor me for a second, please.”
“Alright, um..” you looked down, trying to formulate an answer to Luke’s strangely philosophical question. “I guess I wouldn’t mind as long as I could find you. I know I’d be able to find my way to you so I wouldn’t really worry too much.”
And that answer was everything Luke ever needed.
He spent some more time talking to you, memorizing the way you looked under the lights of the amphitheater in your Camp shirt and necklace. Trying to enjoy it because he will never have this sight again.
Luke excused himself with an “I have a gift for Percy, but I’ll come back to you. Just give me some time,” before walking all the way to the cabins and taking out the Pit Scorpion he had hidden under his bunk.
There was no fear in his actions this time. His heart was beating in a steady rhythm and his hands weren't shaking anymore. The weight of Backbiter in its hilt felt perfect against his hip.
There would be no fear in any of his actions anymore. Because he knows if he keeps you in the shadows you’ll eventually become a dark starless sky just like him.
#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#magnolia’s fics!
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Yandere Smiling Critters x male child reader
Request from Wattpad-! Here you go Dracunyan1987☆
An employee escorted you to Playcare, after the train ride and Elliot’s long speech of course. You were a new kid added to the bunch. You’ve been hanging around in Playtime co for a while, so the employees told the upper staff, then they told Elliot.
Elliot instructed them for you to stay at Playcare, so you’re here now. This place was huge. There’s… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 5 buildings, you counted. You looked up at the ‘sky’, and saw ‘clouds’. Further up, you could see glass, is that the real sky?
The same employee escorted you over to home sweet home, and you were pretty shy, due to you being new to the huge place. The tons of people, toys, big buildings, it's all so new. And kind of scary, due to the big toys. But you do like one.
Kissy… Missy? You think that's her name. She's really sweet.
You entered Home Sweet Home and saw a bunch of kids running around. And… Are those animals..? A dog, a bunny, a bear, a chick—
“Oh, hello!” Somebody greeted you, being out of your vision so you had to turn around.
“You’re new here right?” You nodded your head, being a little surprised by the sudden interaction.
“Ok! I’m PickyPiggy! What’s your name?” You said yours, and she brightened up by that. Even if you were shy, you could at least introduce yourself. Hm. You’re an interesting one.
“Here, follow me! I’ll introduce you to the other critters!” You raised your eyebrows at that, there’s more? How many? You hope there isn’t too much.
Picky took you somewhere, hopefully actually taking you to the critters. She did, no worries.
“Guys! There’s a new kid and—” The other critters were dealing with the kids, not having time for introducing themselves. “Oh.. Uhm..”
Dogday was dealing with telling kids not to be rude. Kickin was trying to get his soccer ball back from the kids. Craftycorn was trying to get her art supplies back from little 5 year olds. Bobby was being crowded by random 7 year olds. Bubba was looking for his math papers, that were stolen by kids. And Hoppy was being dragged around by younger children.
You, as a 6 year old, not knowing what’s going on, couldn’t even take a bit of charge. So you were standing there, waiting for something(other than this) to happen. Picky was getting impatient, so she raised her voice, just a little ^_^!
“GUYS! THERE IS A NEW KID HERE!! YOU NEED TO INTRODUCE YOURSELVES!!!!” It went quiet. Nobody expected for a critter to raise their voice! Picky had no problem though.
“... Oh uhm! E- Everybody gather at your tables and PLEASE resume your activities!” Dogday spoke up, if he could sweat, he would, he’s never seen or heard Picky yell before…
You hid behind Picky, somewhat trusting her more than anybody else at this place. Also you were shy. And new. I’ve said that already, right?
Dogday saw your shyness and reassured you, “It’s okay little one! This place is safe! Even with the chaotic kids… Anyways, we are the smiling critters! I’m Dogday! … Guys, introduce yourselves—”
“I’m KickinChicken! I like sports—”
“ANYWAYSS!! I’m Hoppy Hopscotch! I’m the better version of Kickin!” “HEY!”
“I’m Bobby Bearhug, I do love.. Stuff..”
“I’m Craftycorn! I do art, and accentuate creativity!”
“I’m Bubba Bubbaphant! The ‘smart one’, that’s what the kids call me…”
“I’m sure Picky Piggy already introduced herself to you, right?”
You nodded your head, still being behind her. You were such a cutie!
“Alright! There’s one more, but he’s.. Somewhere… I’m not sure where he is…” You looked around, trying to see if that ‘he’ is in the room.
“D- Do you mean that one..?” You asked, pointing to a high area. It looked like nothing was there, but you could see his white beady eyes in the shadows.
“Oh! Yeah! That’s Catnap!” Dogday said.
You stayed staring at him. Slightly wondering why he was up there and not down here. He seemed mysterious, especially with that purple color.
“Oh and— What’s your name buddy?” You tensed up, you have to say your name… Again?
Picky saw that you didn’t really like speaking that much, so she did it for you. “Okay kiddo! Would you like to do the activities, or take a tour of the place?” Well, you were hungry, but he didn’t state it as an option.
Your stomach spoke for you, saying you were hungry with a loud rumble. Some of the critters giggled from it, “Guys… Anyways, you’re hungry right? Do you want some food?”
You nodded your head. No duh you’d want some food.
After eating, you wanted a tour of the place. There were a ton of rooms, but since you came out of nowhere, there wasn’t really a room ready for you. The critters had a room, so you could stay there when it was time to sleep.
The critters now having an introduction, and a bright smile, you could trust them. For now.
You did the activity with Picky by your side, because you trusted her the most. You quickly did the activity, proving your smarts to somebody. Bubba Bubbaphant. He found you quite the smart kid, and it’s your first day here!
Good job.
For the next few weeks of being at Playcare, you had a lot of reasons for the critters to like you, you were also clingy to them, so they can’t ever be lonely.
They wanted to keep you here, particularly getting a little bit more mad than usual if somebody was rude to you. One time a kid stole your art supplies, Craftycorn got more mad than usual, she was kind of holding back on fully outlashing at the kid.
… You were doing something to them.
They didn’t want you to have your own room. They wanted to keep you in theirs.
Hm. You wanted to meet Catnap, but couldn’t, he didn’t come out at day, he came out at night. And at night, you were asleep. What if you secretly stayed up one day?
“Good night everybody!” Dogday said, everybody said it back, but you didn’t. (Almost) All of the critters noticed this, wondering why you didn’t respond back like you usually do.
“What if I stayed up..? I wanna see uh, Catnap. That’s his name, I think.” The critters looked at each other, communicating whether it was a bad idea. “Well, the workers never come in here. So we won’t really get in trouble..” Kickin spoke up.
They all agreed to stay up, for some time, not pull an all-nighter or something. They’re all talking, while you were silent. Finally, the sound of a door creaked open. There he was! Catnap!
It went quiet again, you got out of ‘your’ bed(Which is Catnap’s) and went up to the cat. You two stared at each other. You didn’t know what to say, Catnap didn’t want to talk. It wasn’t awkward, for you two at least. The other critters didn’t know what to do in this situation.
You let out your arms, signifying you wanted a hug. The other critters were wary about that, Catnap wasn’t really into that stuff, especially when it came to children.
But, he actually hugged you! Everybody in the room was bewildered by this! You really are the chosen one! Yeah you’re staying here.
Forever. Hopefully.
A/N|| I almost broke my back putting in the different colors on my computer🤣🤣
#poppy playtime#poppy playtime x reader#smiling critters#dogday#catnap#dogday x reader#catnap x reader#picky piggy#picky piggy x reader#hoppy hopscotch x reader#hoppy hopscotch#kickinchicken#bobby bearhug#bobby bearhug x reader#bubba bubbaphant#bubba bubbaphant x reader#craftycorn#craftycorn x reader#male reader#male child reader#smiling critters x reader#smiling critters x male child reader#smiling critters x male reader#smilign critters x child reader
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hi luv! i hope you're doing great. Saw your recent post and i do have a hc request (since im having a haikyuu brainrot rn 👀), what would you think of making papa!haikyuu hcs 😩. How would these volley boys make as a father! (especially kenma, tsukki and noya) and you can add your favs too 💕sjsjjsjs hope you have a great day ahead!
I'm doing okay, I hope you are doing good and that you have a nice day! I hope you enjoy this post and it is to your liking
Them as fathers
Characters: Kenma, Noya, Tsukki
Gender neutral reader, it is not mentioned whether the children are adopted or biological, Kenma’s is longer than the others because i had way too many ideas for him
Kenma Kozume
First things first: I don’t think Kenma would have more than one kid, if you really wanted to have more he would relent but he is perfectly happy with just one, he thinks 3 people is the perfect number for your little family.
You may think he wouldn’t be that involved in his kids life, but that is a big misconception,
No matter how much work he has to do he makes sure to spend time with you and your kid.
Kenma would never show his child on the internet in any way, he wants to keep his private life private and keep his child safe, he knows how cruel the internet can be, no way in hell will he put his young child into that kind of situation.
Once your child learned to crawl he brought the three starters of Pokémon black and white (gen 5 best games I don’t take criticism) to see which one your child would choose.
Based on what they chose he will be sulky or proud. (I nearly made this into Oshawott propaganda but I didn’t you’re welcome). But at the end of the day he knows that they just choose one based on colours and shapes, he would teach them once they are older how to perfectly choose a starter.
Best believe that as soon as your kid is old enough to understand things he will show them all kinds of (age appropriate) video games.
You enter his gaming room with some snacks for him and you can just see him play Slime Rancher as your kid sits in his lap, eyes glued to what their father is doing.
He already has started a Stardew Valley coop farm for you three to play together one day, he is just waiting for the day your child is old enough.
Now enough video game talk, (though I have so many more ideas about this lol) your child loves it when Kenma reads to them before they sleep, his voice is very soothing to them.
Once they are asleep Kenma stays at their side a bit longer, watching them sleep a serene smile on his face.
Kenma can’t say no to your kid, he will buy them anything they want. You sometimes wonder how he can be so responsible with his money in any other situation, but your child just needs to point at something and he will buy it for them unless you intervene.
Lastly, be prepared for Kenma and your kid to team up against you. Board games? Yeah they are a team even if the game isn’t a game for teaming up. (Monopoly is a nightmare with them, Oh you need a red? Too bad your kid and Kenma are trading it between one another instead of giving it to you) But you can’t really seem to mind when you see the way Kenma and your kid smile. (Unless you are like me and are fiercely competitive in games then you may want to strike Kenma down)
Yu Nishinoya
Noya would take longer to have children with you, at least until he is done travelling, he does want kids but is aware that travelling the world with them wouldn’t be ideal, he wants them to have a stable home.
Once you two do have kids, he wants at least 2 or 3. Noya wants a big family.
I feel like he is the type of Dad that throws his kids in the air and then catches them (he won’t do it high) and it always gives you a heart attack.
Instead of reading them good night stories he always tells them (embellished) stories from when he travelled the world, for example he once exclaimed to one of your kids how a mermaid vied for your attention but he fought them heroically off.
This does bite him in the ass years down the line once your kids are teens, they will bring these stories up whenever they can to tease him.
Asahi is basically an uncle to your kids, he often visits you and brings the kids many gifts. He loves to spoil them.
And yes Asahi designs the clothes for your kids as well, it often leads to many people asking you and Noya where you got the clothes for them from since they are such a high quality.
Yes, he will teach your kids “Rolling thunder”. No you can’t stop him. Even if your kids don’t play Volleyball they will still know the move.
This leads to your kids looking for his old jersey’s from highschool, putting them on and pretending to be their dad. No he is not crying, he just got dust in his eye.
Vacations and holidays are important to Noya, while he can’t travel the world with your kids, he will take them on memorable vacations across the country when they are old enough to remember them.
He wants them to have a happy and fulfilled childhood with as many experiences as they can have.
Kei Tsukishima
When you first brought up having children with him he asked “Are you sure you can take care of a child? Don’t you wanna practise with a pet rock first?” You lightly punched him in the chest for that and he had his signature smirk on his face.
He is honestly neutral on the aspect of having kids, he is not against it but also it was never his dream of having them, so he is fine with whatever you want.
Just like Kenma he would probably only have one kid, with his Job as a Volleyballplayer and everything he isn’t home that often, so if you had more than one kid he would feel guilty leaving you home alone with them.
Tsukki is probably the first one from Karasuno to have a kid, so he is smug about the fact that he is ‘better’ than the others in that regard.
The first team reunion after you two had your child will have him holding his child proudly, while he tells all the others how slow they are for not having kids yet, which has everyone rolling their eyes. He is very proud of his kid so that he will hold it up Lion King style so everyone can admire it.
Unluckily though he miscalculated the height of the ceiling and bonked your kids head on it, which left everyone in the room in a stunned silence (True story from my infant days, my dad did this exact thing with me)
You had made him change every diaper for 2 weeks for the heart attack he gave you with that, even if your kid was fine and wasn’t hurt.
Tsukki and you switch every night who is going to read your kid, while you pick different topics every time, he only ever chooses dinosaur stories to read to your kid.
Speaking of dinosaurs, Tsukki once claimed he had to educate your kid on certain things while you went out grocery shopping, when you came back you saw that the thing he was educating your child on was “The land before time” which made you smile.
Now no matter if the child is biologically yours or adopted, it somehow interhits his sass, which means you will be surrounded by two sassy little pieces of shit (affectionate).
Though you get both of them to calm down their sass by offering them some strawberry cake if they stop, it surprisingly works better on Tsukki then on your kid, who would have thought?
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x you#hq x reader#kenma kozume x reader#kenma x reader#kenma x you#kenma fluff#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader#tsukki x reader#nishinoya x reader#noya x reader#tsukki fluff#noya fluff#kenma headcanons#tsukki headcanons#kenma kozume#tsukishima kei#nishinoya yuu
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