#pecan sounds good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoshigray · 19 days

Note

Just want to start and say hiiiii I love the work you put out and I can't get over how amazing they are. Since you said your inbox is open I was thinking about Life Guard Choso and a little lips to lips action by the pool side at night. Include anything else you see fit I don't mind☺️.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg tyyyy !! and yippee, a choso request :DD haven't written for him in a long while

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: lifeguard! Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing; making out - sexual acts in a public place; hotel pool room - breast fondling + sucking - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! + f! receiving) - praising - implied v +p insertion (ends with cowgirl) - implied unprotected sex (psa: don't be silly; wrap the willy) - cameo: Nobara (best friend) - Choso having a lil crush on reader, and lowkey being horny on the job, lawl - reader lowkey being flirty and taking the lead role.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

“Hoooohh, Ch’soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…!”

As lifeguarding night shifts go, last night’s had to be the most bewildering Choso has ever endured.

He sits on the lifeguard chair, observing the indoor pool area inside the hotel where he’s working during spring break. Luckily, there weren’t many customers coming to use the pool during his shifts — especially the night ones. So, all Choso had to do was watch the hours go by, go to his lunch break, and occasionally come back if he was called in for the night shift.

What sounds like a manageable task turns out to be otherwise because someone is sitting at the edge of the pool and captures Choso’s observant brown eyes from time to time. It’s you, sitting at the edge with your feet submerged in the water as you converse with your friend — he picks up their name is Nobara – about the joys of your spring break adventures for the past few days.

Your frequent giggles and sweet voice are difficult for him to ignore, sneaking glances under his cap to see you, shooting himself internally for taking advantage to look at you in your cute one-piece swimsuit that hugged your curves nicely. And then the warmth of his blood swiftly changes to freezing temperature when your eyes land on him, averting his gaze back into the water before him.

The ripples of the water have him thinking back on the night shift last night, his cheeks reddening as he recollects the memories…

It was a lonely shift as Choso was the only person in the indoor pool area. It wasn’t until the hour touched two hours behind midnight when the door opened and came you. As someone who’s been lowkey crushing on you for the past few days, this immediately became the worst-case scenario for the young lifeguard, forced to gawk and examine your graceful swimming and two-piece figure.

He’s been doing that for a solid fifteen minutes, suffering in silence while his eyes scan the curves of your thighs and legs and follow the droplets of water trickle down to your cleavage. Eyeing you with such indecency, what an inappropriate thing as a lifeguard.

And it comes back to bite him on the ass when you walk out of the pool and approach him to his chair, startling the pecan brown-haired hotel worker. “Hey there,” you say so charmingly, practically inviting him with just the greeting. “I can’t help but think you’re lonely here just watching me swim…Would you humor me and accompany me? Would feel bad I’m the reason you’re here doing your job at such a late hour…”

Choso knew he should shoot down the offer as he was still on duty. However, judging by how it was nearly an hour and a half from closing the pool and that most of the other hotel workers were gone, a tiny part of him was pinching him to accept the proposal of his mini-crush. It’s just a swim, in the water and out, right…?

That’s what he kept telling himself as he was following and talking with you in the pool; although every time you referred to him by his name, swam circles around his rigid body, or tittered at his words, that statement was demonstrated worthless. The lights from inside the water illuminated your frame lured Choso in with every minute, your eyes sparkling like the broken surface tension of the water.

“Hey, Choso,” God, he couldn’t believe you were calling him by his name; it sounded too dreamlike to be reality. “Have you ever given someone CPR?”

“Uhh, yeah, like once or twice,” he replied while averting his eyes to the other side of the room as if that would help his pinkish blush not be seen by you.

“Really?” You probed, bringing your frame for the water to reach your chin. “You must know the procedure pretty well, then…Hey, let me test you then!”

Huh? “What now?”

“Okay, I’m gonna pretend to drown, and you do whatever lifeguard procedure you do to get me out of the water.” You said it with such a beaming attitude that Choso couldn’t tell if you were serious. They can’t be serious…And then, you took a giant breath before allowing your body to be completely submerged in the water, sinking to the pool floor.

Choso looked to where you were for about five seconds; you two were at around the 4th or 5th feet of the pool — there’s no way you had to be serious. But five seconds turned to ten, and you didn’t exhibit any signs of wanting to breach. It caused his jaw to drop; no shot, they’re actually serious!

With haste, Choso waddles down to your spot and drives himself into the water, taken aback in perplexity when you greeted him with a wave. He then brings a hand under your legs and one to your shoulder, breaching with you in bridal style. He voices his bafflement, “Wh–What was that idea?”

“Hahaha, took you long enough; you’re a pretty terrible lifeguard for taking your sweet time rescuing me!” You jest to him, the comment poking right through Choso’s stature and dignity.

“I didn’t know you were serious or not…”

“Drowning is always a serious issue,” you bat your eyes at him before poking the mark across his face. It wasn’t until then that Choso realized how close he had you, your face two inches away from his, and the top of your two-piece now in his line of sight for your cleavage to capture his dangerous curiosity. He turns his head to show some modesty he has left, but it’s too late; you saw him. A twinge of your lip forms a pleasant grin, “Well, you know what happens next, right?”

He blinks and brings his face back in your direction. Surely you didn’t mean that, asking the following to make sure, “Wh…What?”

“Mouth-to-mouth, of course!” Oh, this was going way too far, the poor lifeguard holding you frozen still at your goal. “Why, you don’t want to put your lips on me? Or were you sneaking glances at me these past few days for nothing?” Another arrow that shot him down; you knew!? “You’re not quite subtle, you know. Hehe, but I find that kinda cute.”

Choso tried to explain himself, but what only came out was stammers and squeaks. Your gaze had him internally nervous and exposed, so you had to poke him even more, “So? Are you gonna leave your drowning rescuee’s lips alone or save me?”

He gulped at the phrasing, struggling to find the words to give to you. Not you were giving him a chance because your face was moving closer to his every second he didn’t answer. And when your eyelids come down, Choso hesitantly does as well and brings his lips onto your soft ones.

The first peck was long, yet sweetly introduced you two together. You snaked your hand up his pecs to his neck, inviting him to kiss you a second time. His restraint dissolved with every sedation of your lips on his, and it vanished wholly when his ears picked up a moan. He becomes more adventurous and chews on your bottom lip, and the whimper you let out ignites something that he’s been dying to contain for this long.

A hot and steamy kiss that was built up to happen here and now, and Choso relishes having you like this like it’s a dream. You break the kiss with a gasp for air, panting alongside him with a smile. “Well then, do I have to tell you what should happen next, too?”

When Choso silently leads you out of the pool with him, you are pleased that you don’t have to.

“—Khhh, ohooo, ohhhmyGod, Chosoooo, your tongue feels so good!”

Choso moved you to one of the cushioned chaise lounge chairs to lie as he ripped you off your bottoms and greeted your lower half with attention. Being between your legs was far from what he ever imagined; however, with how you tase on his tongue and the wails you’re letting out for him, he can’t find it in himself to stop now.

He licks your clit with a circle, and you squeak at the motion. “Mmmm…feeling’ good there, Y/n?”

“Ohhh, yesss, oh yessss,” you respond with a hazed expression, letting your euphoric sounds fill the quiet indoor pool room occupied by you two. “Fuuuck, lick me more, please…”

Even your requests to him were dear to his ears, obliging your folds with feverish laps and swirls. Your cries become louder, legs jolting with ever every lave and suck of your leaking fluids. But Choso holds you by the thighs, massage them to relax your body. Damn, you felt so soft to his fingers, wanting to have his hands on you for as long as he can.

You bite your lip when your hand grabs tuffs of his down brunette hair, egging him to give your clitoris more kisses and hurried licks that almost have you choke on your spit. “Oh, myGod—Mmmph! You’re so good at this, Choso…Ahhhh, oh fuck, feels too gooood…!”

Choso lifts his head to lock his chocolate eyes with yours, examining your reaction when he switches his tongue with a forefinger bullying inside your vagina. The insertion has your bold jerk upwards, squirming at the finger that’s scraping the velvety texture of your vaginal walls. He then kisses from your thigh up to your abdomen, sucking on your skin to tease. Once he comes up to your top piece, he uses his free hand to bring it up and finally releases your breasts for his eyes to survey. His mouth doesn’t waste time having a nipple inside, licking on the bud as he gropes the other breast.

“Ahhnn! Hahhh, hehe, you look so hot doing that,” you comment, making the young man sneak a glance at you before he sucks and nibbles on the nipple. His finger inside your cunt goes faster, having you whine when his thumb comes to your clit. Swipes to the delicate button erupt howls from your agape mouth, “Ohhhh, Hoooohh, Ch’soooo, right there! Keep scraping me right there…pleaseee, don’t stop…!”

He withdrew from your nipple with a soft “pop” from his lips, bringing his face inches close to yours. “Gonna cum on my fingers, yeah?” He asks to distract you from the sneaking middle finger that invades between your folds. The two digits work together to reach places you couldn’t, rubbing and scratching your inner walls with tips.

“Yesss, yesss, I’m gonna cum…! More, more—Oh, Ohooo!” Choso kisses you again, and you happily mewl into his lips as your orgasm climbs up with the pace of his fingers and his thumb pressing and swiping on your clit. Your chasm clamps onto his digits, bringing your hands to his face to keep the kiss going as your climax hits you.

Shocks from your body prompt you to tremble under him, the walls of your slit contract around his fingers, and your hips involuntarily sway to ride out the phases of your clarity. You suck on Choso’s tongue; his groans are music to your ears while your hand travels down to his swim trunks and feels the tent of his groin.

He moans, breaking the kiss to look where your hand is. You chuckle, “It’s time to return the favor. Come on, let’s switch.”

He follows your lead and takes the position you had previously, watching you situate yourself between his legs as you bring his trunks down to have his erection spring out. He panics a little when you gasp aloud while marveling at his limb, “My, what a long thing you were hiding from me…”

Your compliment has the blush on his ears scorch him with unbearable heat, and you keep eye contact while your plump lips place kisses on the sensitive pink tip of his cock. He hitches his breath at the contact, especially at your hand, grasping his length and beginning stroking motions.

Your tongue dances around his glans and presses on the frenulum, nibbling on the rough skin while your free hand goes to his testicles, softly kneading them to provoke moans to leave his lips. “Such cute sounds from such a cute guy; keep making more for me, okay?” He places a hand on your head, a sign that you take initiative to pop his dick into your mouth.

Bobbing your head up and down, you take in Choso’s shaft inch by inch, the warmth of your mouth doing wonders to his senses. A hand grips the cushion of the tongue chair he’s lying on, and shivers crawl up his spine when you mumble after taking it to the hilt as your voice travels through his body.

“Mmmm…Nngohh, fuck,” he curses with furrowed brows, biting his lip when sensing your tongue lick the underside of his cock. Fuck, your mouth felt so damn good — it took everything for Choso not to rut into your mouth voluntarily. Your tight throat didn’t make it any better, and the walls enveloping his entire girth had him drooling.

Puffed cheeks suck on him leisurely, your lips coated from the saliva covering him, the noises so erotic and out of this world. You continue to massage his balls while your mouth occupies him, alternating with your hands to go down and suck on his balls roughly.

Here is where Choso finds it hard to contain himself with every second, his thighs jerking with every sign of pleasure, throwing his head back when his dick is back inside your gummy throat. Hips subtly propel to your mouth to create more friction, and he whimpers as you happily accept him with mumbled wails and restlessly jerk him off.

“—Kahhnn, nnmgh, shit, Yn,” your name sounds like a dazed slur, the hand purchased on your head eggs you to go faster. He almost bites his tongue when yours teases his urethra for more of his precum, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming…shiiit, ohh…!”

And you give him aid, sucking on his cock harder and bobbing frantically while you use both your hands to pleasure him more. The commotion of his lower half corrupts all of his senses, hanging by a thread to hang on and howl your name out. One last lap and harsh suck on his glans induces a choked groan, and Choso finally ejaculates into your mouth.

With the thirst pump, you instantly take him back inside your throat, drinking every bit of his load exuding from his throbbing member. He thrusts as you suck him, his orgasm shaking his being with every rut and sob. He heaves and pants, your name said in helpless prayers while you suck his soul out. And, God, does he fucking love it so.

You give him mercy and release his shaft, placing more tiny kisses on it while watching Choso’s quaking frame calm down. And when he does, you bring your body off from between his legs. “Thank you for saving me, Choso.” You crawl to place a gentle kiss on his lips with a hum, and then you relish the cute sounds he makes as your wet cunt meets his length.

“Let me reward you by pampering you more...”

“….—op, don’t starve at him so hard!”

“Is that him?”

Choso snaps back to the present when he hears familiar voices speak — it is you and Nobara he finds that are looking at you from across the poolside. Nobara being the one staring dead at him; your best friend’s eyes feel like daggers piercing Choso’s pale skin. It made him gulp with nervousness.

Then, she cocks her head and leans to speak. “Doesn’t look so bad; don’t know about that mark on his face, though…How long was it, again?”

“Shhh, be quiet!” You slap her arm to silence her, making the mistake of looking at Choso. You two lick into each other’s gazes for a few seconds, the warmth of your cheeks creeping up and having you two sever your faces elsewhere.

Nobara saw the exchange, listing a brow before asking you, “So, do you want me to give him your number, or would you like to fuck him again before that—Oww!!“ Another slap to her bare shoulder, she winces this time.

“Jesus Christ, shut up!”

@screampied 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

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gojonanami · 5 months

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TASTES SWEETER ON YOUR LIPS - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: on a rare day off, you decide to take care of the strongest sorcerer -- with something very sweet. ✴︎ contents: pure domestic fluff, based on that clip of gojo freaking out over pancakes in the phantom parade game, taking care of gojo the way he deserves - with sweets and yourself :), implied smut, some food play, mostly implied, ✴︎ wc: 754

It was a rare day off for Satoru Gojo.

No missions — overseas or otherwise. No training to deal with for his students. No annoying higher ups to deal with.

Just the two of you in bed. Satoru was sound asleep, curled up beside you, pretty long white eyelashes and pink lips parted. How was it possible to look perfect while sleeping? Everything about your husband was truly unfair.

But considering everything he did — you ran your fingers through his snowy locks — he deserved it. He worked so hard, always with a smile, barely with a complaint — you had to badger out of him half of the time, except about the higher ups — and always did his best for everyone around him.

And the opportunity to spoil him became rare, especially with how busy everything had been with Itadori, the special grades, and everything else he had on his plate. So why not today?

You sneak out of bed, being as quiet as possible as you head to the kitchen. You had found a recipe for soufflé pancakes with a chocolate and butter pecan sauce. Satoru had been complaining that he hadn’t had time to try the new trend recently — finding the perfect cafe for the two of you in Kyoto, but hadn’t had the time to get out there. But you thought why not beat him to the punch?

Anything to make him happy.

Satoru’s eyes fluttered open, the sunlight falling across his eyelids as he stirred, reaching for you, only to find an empty bed. He sighed, eyes opening and he could sense you in the kitchen, and you were — cooking?

He sits up.

What was that scent? It’s so sweet.

He’s wandering into the kitchen, yawning, as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as he buries his head in the nape of your neck sleepily.

“What are you doing?” It’s half a question, half a whine, “why’re you up so early—“ and then he spots the two plates in front of you, and he gasp, “what—“

“Surprise,” you giggle at his wide eyed gaze, “your six eyes are gonna pop out if you look any harder, baby,”

“Where did you—“

“I made them. I found a recipe and I had most of the ingredients on hand anyway,” you turn to face him, cupping his cheeks, “I know how hard you’ve been working, Toru, and I just wanted you to know I see it — and I’m here to take care of you sometimes,” you lean up and kiss his cheek.

And his lips curl into a wide grin, and he’s greedy, as he’s tugging you back, “you missed, sweetheart,” and he’s kissing your lips, and somehow you’re the best and the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, “I love you,” he murmurs, “how’d I get so lucky?”

“Keep asking yourself that,” and he’s picking you up and spinning you, as you gasp and giggle, holding onto him, “Toru—“

“Yes, my lovely wife?” You lean down and kiss his goofy grin off his lips.

“Let’s have some pancakes, ok?” And he only smiled wider, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Only if I can have you afterwards,” and you laugh.

“Deal,”

“Satoru, that is your third plate of—“

“These pancakes are so good! They’re so fluffy and warm and perfect—I’ve never had such a fluffy pancake!“ and he’s taking another large bite, “and the sauce? What the hell is in that sauce?”

“Toru—“ and he’s pressing his lips to yours, and you can taste the sweet syrup sauce on his lips, “what—“

“I think this sauce tastes sweeter on your lips,” he’s licking his lips clean, pressing a kiss to your neck, his cerulean eyes colored with lust, “do you have more?” And his eyes drift to the bowl of sauce on the counter, his fingers dipping in the sauce, before dragging it along your lips and then your jaw.

And your breath catches, as he leans over, his lips and tongue dragging along the same path he left, sucking at the sauce and your skin, before he reaches your lips. And his tongue darts out and tastes the sauce, before kissing you, sweet tongue slipping into your mouth, drawing a moan from your lips.

He draws back, spit clinging to the corner of his mouth, a grin on his lips, as you pant, eyes drifting to the sauce and back to him.

“…let’s go back to bed.”

And Satoru Gojo certainly had a very sweet day off with you.

✴︎ a/n: what is this? i have no idea. i actually really wanna try those fluffy pancakes they sound really good. but also gojo's too cute.

✴︎ taglist: @capitana18girl, @1cadence, @madam-milf, @ceceher, @forest-fruits-jam, @black-nirvanna, @naanamikentoo

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo fanfiction #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fanfiction #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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phasecornnuts · 26 days

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Hiiiiiiii! If you’re still open for requests maybe you might wanna write something where the reader casually mentioned that they/she had a partner on earth before they died and Alastor takes it a bit too drastically and has just been very salty and asking too many questions 😭 if you like that

Please & thanks ❤️

Hey guys I've returned! Sorry for taking a little while, I was busy with finals/I wanted to relax on my spring break so I didn't have a lot of time. I lowkey kind of cooked with this one too so enjoy :3

Also, I sorta made the reader be from around the same time period as Alastor (sorta late 1910s early 1930s) for extra spice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had become a daily routine for you and Alastor to have afternoon tea together in cannibal town. Always, between the hours and four and six o’ clock after Alastor had finished his broadcast and you, your hotel duties, the both of you would walk down to Rosie’s Emporium to nibble on finger sandwiches, candied eyeballs, and other treats.

The sun was still high in the sky, sending fingers of light through the windows of the cafe; the building was alive with the chatter of demons and hell-born alike. You and Alastor had just sat down, a short cannibal girl with a heart-shaped face and glowing brown ringlets placing your usuals on the table. Oh how beautiful they were! Too pretty to eat, garnished with tiny sprigs of mint (or, at least, it may have been mint) and resting on plates of delicate porcelain. With polished silver beside them, and matching teacups and saucers too, it all looked like a party for a girl’s favorite doll.

That is, if it weren’t human meat.

Looking up from your plate, you saw Alastor turn his head to follow the cannibal girl making you frown. His gaze returned to you before he caught you staring, a chipper grin on his face as always.

“She could be a dead ringer for Mary Pickford, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows perked. You hadn’t looked long at the girl admittedly, though you stared long enough to know that she was no Pickford. You pursed your lips,

“I don’t see it, Lillian Gish maybe.”

He looked at you like a mad-woman, “You don’t!?”

“No! Her eyes are much too large!”

Alastor chuffed, proceeding to rest his chin on his dark hand, “In the eye of the beholder I suppose.”

You rolled your eyes, “You only say that because of her curls,” you stated while picking up the teapot and pouring yourself and Alastor your cups, “Now, drink before it gets cold.”

For much of your lunch neither of you spoke, merely enjoying each other’s presence while pecking on some food here and there. Throughout the meal the waitress brought more plates, pancreas tarts, minced tongues coated with cinnamon sugar, and sweet pies filled with rotted venison and cooked kidneys, all Rosie’s treat. Alastor had been taken by the small pies in their mulled deliciousness, the meat so tender you saw his eyes water. He pleaded you to try one, though you couldn’t, your stomach filled to the brim from the other treats and delicacies.

Alastor picked up the small pair of silver tongs from beside him and placed two sugar cubes in his tea, “I do say, it’s nice to have a meal companion again.” He took a sip from his teacup and grinned.

You nodded in agreement, lifting the milk jug from the table and pouring a generous amount into your cup. “Likewise. Good dinner conversation is a horrid thing to lose.”

“Truly.” He took another drink. “Before you, I hadn’t had a proper luncheon since my mother.”

“From what you tell she sounded like a fine woman.” His grin lost its eeriness, becoming fond instead.

“She truly was, and such a fine cook too.” Alastor gazed at the fine pattern painted on the rim of his saucer, “her jambalaya was the best, our side of the Mississippi” he chuckled. He began to remember then, “And her gumbo and her crawfish etouffee and her pecan pralines”

It was odd to hear his voice so full of affection, but nice too. So strange, to think a man who broadcasted his murders of other overlords and feasted on their flesh was once a little boy who clung to his mothers skirt and happily ate her cooking.

“Maybe one day you’ll cook for me then?” you teased

“Oh why wouldn’t I for my favoritest of sinners?” He took your hand.

You leaned in towards him, a silent flirtation. “Or perhaps I could prepare something for you?”

He looked at you from his dark, hooded eyes, a certain intrigue radiating from them. “Would you now?” he said, leaning in closer.

“Oh I would, anything you’d like.” the tip of your oxford lingering at his ankle. “My food was good enough for my darling back on earth, why would an overlord of hell have any complaints? Other than not enough seasoning I suppose.”

That was when the laughter in his eyes died. Alastor bit the inside of his cheek before finding the words to speak, “Your darling?”

“Pardon?”

“You had someone,” He straightened up, pulling himself away from you, “back on earth?”

“I hardly see how it matters now.”

Alastor’s tone grew curt, had such a simple word bruised his ego?

He crossed his arms, “What were they like?” each word as sharp as his teeth.

You pulled your hands close to you, confused at his curtness, “They were….they were nice. Cordial, spirited, vivacious, however you would put it. If you’re-” Alastor cut you off.

“How did you meet them?”

“On the trolley.” That only served to make him scoff.

“Tch, how common. The trolley.”

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to deny the anger towards him that began to knot in your belly. “It was a different lifetime.” You asserted, a hard finality to it. Pushing yourself from the small table you smoothed your skirt and adjusted the ribbon that was tied so nicely in your hair.

Without looking at him you said, “Tell Rosie I’m grateful for her hospitality and I will try to find a way to repay her. Also that I’m sorry that I had to retire without saying hello but I feel rather…faint.” Before leaving completely you said, “See you back at the hotel.”

The rest of the day you hid in your room, sulking and pacing. Charlie had tried to coax you out, seeing how angry you’d been when you came back, but you denied every effort she had.

“It’s not good to stay cooped up in there,” the Princess pleaded.

“I like my alone time.”

“But- but I had games planned! Husk was going to show us how to play Blackjack and Dominoes!”

“I prefer bridge, and he’ll just cheat us anyways.”

She gave a disappointed sigh, and outside the door you could hear Vaggie talking to her, telling Charlie to give you your space.

For three nights straight you avoided Alastor, finishing up your hotel duties quickly before hiding in your room. You grew bored after the first day admittedly, a person could only sleep and bathe and read so much. The fourth night is when he knocked on your door while you lied draped on your couch, your nose in a book you’d already finished before. Thinking it was Charlie, you ignored it, sure she’d get the message. It insisted however, rapping harder the second time. You sighed, annoyed. “Who is it?”

“Alastor, may I come in?”

A sour taste came in your mouth, “No.”

“You cannot lock yourself away from me forever.”

You lifted yourself off the couch, full of bitterness, “I can and I will!”

An electric hum filled your ears, the sound of Alastor weighing his words, “Could you at least entertain my attempt?”

Walking to the door and opening it slightly you saw his face, those deep, hooded eyes dark as blood, cracked lips, and hollow cheekbones. All of those beautiful, haunting features draped in remorse. You sighed, cursing the affection you had for him.

“Fine, but I’m still cross with you.” That made him smile, if only a tad.

Opening the door fully, you saw he’d brought one of the dining carts from the unused kitchen clad in a clean white sheet. Alastor pushed it to the center of the room before spiritedly ripping the cover from the cart, presenting polished silver dishes of raw meat and organs. From the bottom shelf of it, he had pulled a fine bottle of wine and two shining glasses.

“I helped myself to a bottle of Husk’s finest, the patrons here don’t have as refined tastes as you and I.” He gave a small grin. So this is what he brought with him, a peace offering. Your stomach was empty from only eating a small meal earlier in the day, so perhaps it was not in vain, though you weren’t sure if you were ready to forgive him.

“I’ll help you set the table,” you offered, feeling guilty he put so much effort into pleasing you.

Alastor held his hands up, “No need darling.” He put his hand on his throat, “What I said the other day was very…” he coughed into his hand, “ungentlemanly of me, and I wanted to make it up to you.”

You folded your hands and held them to your chest, looking at the embarrassment he tried to hide. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, and raised your gaze to his. “Thank you, Alastor.” His grin widened as he sat down beside you.

He uncorked the bottle of wine, beginning to pour it into the glasses, “Of course.” He handed you the glass which you took gladly. The vintage was so dark it looked black, reflecting the lights that glowed from the ceiling. Swishing it, you could see the hidden shades of red that the wine hid.

“Demon’s blood, Husk calls it.” Alastor told you before he took a long sip.

“Fitting. Do you know how long he’s aged it?” Alastor shrugged, taking another swallow.

“I didn’t care to ask, but it tastes so good going down. Come, drink, I didn’t bring this up so I could get drunk by myself.” That made you giggle, how much he valued the both of you eating and drinking together.

Taking his lead, you titled your head back, savoring the warm burn of the wine going down. Its hot fingers lingered in your chest before fading, like drinking cold medicine. In three large gulps you finished your glass, noticing the way Alastor’s eyes watched your throat as you drank. After finishing your second glass you began to dig into the food he’d brought, pancreas tarts, cooked kidneys and…oh good god! On the largest plate was a raw heart, fresh and bloody.

“Where did you get this? You shouldn’t have!” Your eyes went wide and your mouth began to salivate. A raw heart! Oh and it was human too! Such a fine delicacy must have taken so much begging from Alastor!

“Rosie owed me a favor. And I owe it to you, for making such a jackass of myself.”

You took another sip of your wine, feeling your face begin to flush. You helped yourself to a tart while Alastor poured himself another glass. As you ate you felt his eyes on you again, focusing on the way your teeth bit into the pastry, your swan’s neck showing your swallow, and how your tongue dragged across your lips. Feeling bold, you placed your feet in his lap and wiped the corner of your mouth with your finger, licking the tip of it with your tongue. He swallowed, hard, his eyes growing wide.

“Are you looking at something?” Your voice a heavy seduction.

“Possibly.” He drank again. Leaning back on the arm of the couch, he placed his glass on the floor. The tips of his fingers grazed your legs, “Though I do have another question for you, if I may.”

A sultry smirk grew on your face, “That depends on what it is, Al.” God, you could see the glint in his eyes then.

Alastor looked up at you from his hooded eyes, “I’ve been wondering…about your “darling.” You arched an eyebrow; your interest piqued. “Did they ever have…you?” His breath shuddered.

“Have me, how?” You teased.

“Oh humor me my dear,” He purred

You smirked and shifted your legs in his lap. “Hmm, maybe once or twice…” You sit up from your recline and crawl onto his lap.

“What sorts of things did they do to you?”

Running your fingers down his chest you savored the way he squirmed and shifted, “All sorts of unholy things”

Alastor choked on his breath, his eyes transfixed on your face. Slowly, he caught it, regaining a certain boldness afterwards. His hand found the top of your stocking, fingering the nylon taut to your thighs. “Getting rather comfortable aren’t we my dear?”

The smirk you had deepened and you pulled in closer, feeling the heat of his breath tickle your cheeks. You looked into his eyes, “I could get much more comfortable if you like, Al.” For what seemed like ages you lingered, until you felt you had tortured the man enough. Slowly, you leaned in, seemingly ready to kiss his shiny red lips. Grinning, you pulled a piece of dry skin from his bottom lip between your teeth, peeling it to show the bleeding flesh beneath.

You sat back on his lap and spat out the skin. Looking at him, you saw that hunger in his eyes again. That fine line of decorum the two of you had with one another, ignoring the lingering gazes and longing touches, all thrown away with one bite. Underneath, you could feel his arousal beginning to grow hard. You rolled your hips slightly into him, earning a throaty groan from Alastor. From the silver dining cart you pulled the piece de resistance, that raw bleeding heart, and sunk your teeth into it, tasting the sweet flavor of iron. Trails of blood dripped from your mouth onto your decolletage, slowly turning brown and flaky.

Alastor’s breath heaved, growing even harder from that sultry cannibalistic display. He pulled you towards him and pressed your mouth to his, saccharine saliva mixing with sanguine. His tongue slid and twisted about yours, savoring every inch of its taste. You pulled away from him to catch your breath, making him whine. Leaning in again, he dragged his tongue along your neck, cleaning up the drying strings of blood.

Both of you straightened up then, him holding you proper now. One hand ran its fingers through his shiny red hair and the other cupped his aching sex, so taut against his trousers.

“Is that what you were so upset about Al? If they fucked me or not?” You purred into his ear.

The tips of your fingers fluttered over his hip, tracing its edge before returning to his cock. “I bet you wondered if I did this to them, didn’t you?” A small nip was placed on his neck, leaving a red half-moon. Your breath grew hot against his cheek as you whispered into his ear again,

“Maybe I did, and maybe I did so many more dirty things to them.”

Alastor enraptured your mouth in another needy kiss. His words heavy with radio static, “What sort of things my dear? Or are you all talk?” Your grin widened seeing the shock in his eyes when you began to unbutton his overcoat.

“Let me show you.”

Four little words was all it took to send him over the edge. Picking you up, his hands traced over all the parts of your succulent body. When he flopped you on the bed, hair as tousled as a pin-up, you reached out a stockinged leg to him, that devious look on your face growing. Oh how badly he wanted to have you, hastily unzipping your dress as you stripped him down to his undershirt and trousers. Deft fingers hooked around the tops of your stockings, pulling them down as fast as they could. You dropped his trousers and took off his shirt, admiring all of that soft, gray skin.

You pressed your mouth to the flesh of his stomach, blessing it with small love-bites that made him shudder. All along his torso you left red patches and traced your cool fingertips along the hard edges where his ribs poked out. You tilted your head up and moved his hands to the straps of your brasserie, exposing all of your hot, yearning flesh. He cupped a breast and lied on top of you. Grinding his sex to yours he moaned into your mouth. It had been so…so long since you’d been wanted, since someone pressed their body to yours and you felt all of their heat as they slid into you, over and over again.

“Al,” You breathed

“What is it?”

“Get on your back.”

And so he did.

Alastor’s back against the mattress and your palms against his chest, you let him enter you. He let out a string of curses when you did, and even more when you started moving in those easy rolling motions. Those large hands of his held the curve of your waist as you rode him, his eyes half-lidded as he watched your breasts bounce.

“The first time I saw you…” You began, going a little faster, “I wanted you,” You heard a small thud as he dropped his head against the pillows.

“I thought about you kissing me and touching me all over” That’s when the pulses of pleasure started to build up, prickling you in sweet needles that went all the way up your spine.

“And about you sticking your fingers in me and..and your tongue too” You felt your face heat up and your sex grow slicker, admitting those indecent thoughts you only entertained during late nights when your fingers wandered. Alastor gripped your waist tighter, making your rhythm harsher. You looked down on him, his eyes glazed over with euphoria, and felt your mouth pool with saliva.

Digging your nails into the skin of his chest you kept on. “For a whole week I couldn’t keep from slipping my hands between my legs.” Your voice, thick and hoarse. “I wanted to know what you tasted like, if-if your mouth tasted like blood,” that was when he quickened the pace even more. Your sex was so hot and wet, all the way at the base of your spine you could feel your orgasm coming to you, a full-body shiver that made your eyes well with tears.

The last part was what sent him over the edge though.

“Sometimes, I’d bite myself so I could taste the blood when I’d touch-” was all it took to make him come.

Fuck it felt good too. A weak falsetto escaped your mouth when he released, so warm and filling. That’s what made you reach your end too. You clawed your nails in his skin so deep there were two broken half-moons on his chest. Your thighs clenched against his torso, quivering, as you could feel your body become as light and floaty as chiffon.

Alastor let the both of you ride it out, that sweet joyous bliss. When your mind returned from the heaven it was sent to, you leaned over, resting on top of him. He moved you gently, pressing you closely to his chest. For a while, neither of you spoke, the air lingering with the smell of sweat and blood and sex. You ran your fingers through his hair again; He kissed the back of your hand before speaking.

“If I’d known all that would come out of making you angry at me, I would’ve earned your ire a long while ago.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his chest playfully.

“Perhaps we could do this again, without the arguing?” You propose, “You’re quite good at it.”

A smile stretched across his face as he played with a lock of hair that rested near your face, “Expect nothing less from an overlord of hell cher.” One of his hands slid to your lower back, tracing small circles on that creamy flesh.

“How about we try one more time without the arguing, for good measure?”

You smirked and kissed him again. All for good measure.

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #fanfic request

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calif0rnia-lovers · 1 year

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growing pains.

rating: 💙 | pairing: rio x his wife | words: 904

an: can't remember who requested this one, but I adore you. here’s another story I never got around to posting

request: rio and his wife again? but this time she's pregnant and can't get comfortable so rio tries to take her mind off it

Rio's eyes open.

He can breathe. Actually, breathe. That’s the problem.

Rio can never breathe—at least not properly—when he’s in bed with you. He’s become accustomed to waking up with you curled against him, most of your weight pressing him into the mattress. As much as he teases you about your inability to sleep without laying on him, Rio secretly loves it.

The absence of your touch is enough for Rio to fight off the tug of sleep already threatening to pull him back under.

His eyes find the clock on the bedside table.

2:15 A.M.

Lifting his head from the pillow, Rio finds you pacing the length of your dark bedroom.

One hand on your forehead, the other on your hip. Eyes closed, you quietly shuffle past the foot of the bed.

“Keep it up, you’ll burn a hole in the floor,” Rio’s chuckle fills the dark room, the sound of his voice causing you to jump.

You both wince as he reaches over, flicking on the bedside lamp.

“Sorry,” you groan. “I didn’t mean to wake you—”

Rio silently dismisses the apology, pushing the comforter back. “You good?”

Instinctively, you nod.

The action would convince many. Throughout your pregnancy, Rio has learned you’re an expert at masking your discomfort. When your friends and family ask how you’re doing, you instantly reply “I’m fine.”

The problem is, you try to do the same with your husband. Five years of marriage and you’ve yet to realize your husband can see right through you. This is why he can’t help but softly smile as your eyes meet his.

“If that’s the case,” Rio sighs. He comes to a stop before you, hands settling on your waist. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

“Believe me, I tried. But, it seems I’m carrying the next Ronaldo,” you giggle, the exhaustion bringing your forehead to rest against your husband’s chest. “He’s been restless all night.”

“Sorry, mama.”

Soft kisses press against your forehead, over the bridge of your nose, and down to your lips.

Your hands find his chest, gently applying pressure as Rio leaves a final kiss against your lips.

“I’m fine,” you smile softly. “I’m sure he’ll settle down in a bit. Go back to bed.”

Being up this early in the morning was not ideal. Despite your protest, Rio has picked up much of your responsibilities as your third trimester has begun to wind down. Taking Marcus to school is one. You know he only has a few hours of sleep left before he has to take on the task.

Rio eyes drift to the bedroom door. The smile slowly spreading across his face arches your brow.

——————

“You know…I don’t think I’ve ever said this, but yellow looks good on you.”

Your giggle prompts your husband to glance over his shoulder.

Seated at the island of your kitchen, elbows resting against the surface, you watch Rio carefully balance the cooking pan in his left hand. He pushes the oven door shut with his right, pausing to cut it off.

Rio notes the twinkle of your eyes as you give him a once-over.

A large bee adorns his chest, completing the phrase bee happy. The apron he wears matches the yellow, bee-covered, oven mitts protecting his hands from the hot baking pan.

“Every color looks good on me,” Rio chuckles.

“Very true,” you agree, eyes following him as he makes his way around the island. “But, I’m a big fan of this look.”

Rio’s lips meet yours in a brief kiss, his smile growing as you pull away.

The half-eaten cookie you hold soon regains your attention as he slides onto the stool alongside yours.

You’ve lost count of the number of cookies you’ve eaten over the last twenty minutes.

Soft, warm, and chewy, the cookies were loaded with three of your favorite things. Chocolate chips, pecans, and caramel.

Rio had watched you teach Marcus how to make the cookies nearly a dozen times. Usually, while you and his son were busy mixing the dough, Rio was busy stealing chocolate chips and pecans to snack on.

Tonight, it seems the two of you have switched roles. Rio had forced you to remain seated while he focused on preparing the cookies.

“There’s nothing the perfect cookie can’t fix,” you’d once told Marcus after he returned home from a rough day at school.

The family recipe taught to you by your grandmother has become the savior of many stressful situations. And a gift at many celebrations.

They proved to be the perfect distraction from your previous dilemma.

Ignoring the swat of your hand, Rio manages to steal a bite of your cookie, his eyes drifting to the stairs visible from where you sit.

“You better hurry up and eat. Gotta hide the evidence,” he chuckles as you pout.

“There’s plenty of cookies,” you remind him, stealing the cookie out of his hand. “Eat your own.”

Rio shakes his head, his lips pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “I like yours better.”

“I’m eating for two,” you remind him, the smile on your face growing as his eyes roll.

“Funny how that comes out at the most convenient times.”

Primarily when you steal food from his plate. Your eyes drop to the cookie you’d recently stolen from your husband.

“Remember that next time you think about getting me pregnant.”

“Speaking of kids…I’m not taking the blame when Marcus wakes up to find you didn’t share any with him.”

#let me know what you think?#rio good girls #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rio imagine #manny montana imagine

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kitchenwitchtingss · 9 months

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RECIPES I KEEP IN MY ONLINE KITCHEN WITCH JOURNAL #2

I love making these oh my gosh.

Why?

It's really fun

It's been a while since my last one

I get an excuse to try yummy recipes

You all are way too good at what you do

It's fun x2

Teas, Drinks, And Syrups

🍊 Orange Peel Tea 🍊

Violet Lemonade

Coconut Summer Drink

Dandelion Honey

The Best Hot Spiced Cider recipe you’ll ever try

Apple Cider is basically a homesteading spell

Rose Lemonade Syrup

100-Year Garlic (Garlic Honey)

Fire Cider Spell for Winter Protection

Blackberry & Apple Jam

Witchy Recipes - Blackberry Lemonade

Baked Goods + Sweets

Prosperity Bread

Lavender Earl Grey Cookies

Easy Rosemary Focaccia Loaf for Love and Protection

Heavenly Lavender Scones

Honey Vanilla Peach Butter 🍑

Pumpkin Pie Dip 🎃

Vanilla-Pumpkin Cupcakes

Soups, Stews, And Dinners

Super simple secret potato soup

Forest Porridge

Heartwarming potato soup

Perfect Homemade Garlic Bread

Creamy vegetable soup

Springtime Soup

Stuffed Maple dijon glazed roasted butternut squash

Summertime stir fry

Sabbat Stuff

Litha Orange Honey Cake

Litha Thyme Chicken

Stuffed Apples for Mabon

Mabon Mug

Imbolc Pretzel wreath

Oatmeal Bread for Lughnasadh

Samhain Mulled Cider

Samhain Irish Apple Cake

Angel's Best

(my favorite recipe posts I've made over the years, plus backstories that sound like your grandmother's reminiscing over the past.)

LATE WINTER BUTTER ROLLS

My first post I ever made. I was pretty new to the tumblr community at the time. I loved kitchen witchcraft, and I'm the type of person who will ramble on about how much I love cooking and baking. This blog gave me an outlet to express my love of cooking, baking, paganism, and witcraft. And these rolls are very tasty, I make them to this day!

WITCHY TOMATO BASIL SOUP

Tasty, simple, and a crowd-pleaser. It's perfect for a beginner kitchen witch! It was also the second recipe I ever posted.

SWEET CREAM BUNS

It was a recipe given to me by one of my good friends at the time. Every time I make it, it gets devoured in less than 10 minutes. It was also my first recipe to get over 50 notes. I was shocked but ecstatic that so many people would even give it the time of day lol.

WITCHY THUMBPRINT COOKIES

These ones were just fun to make and delicious lol.

A WITCH’S COZY BUTTERNUT WINTER SOUP

A quick soup that feeds a lot of people during the fall season. Fall is my favorite season, so of course I'm very biased lol.

SAMHAIN PUMPKIN BREAD

I love pumpkin bread and apple cider... So why not combine the two? This one was definitely one of my favorites of all time. Moist pumpkin bread and chocolate chips have to be one of my favorite things on this planet. It also makes for the perfect gift for friends and family. Yummy!

ANGEL’S AWARD-WINNING LEMON POPPY SEED BREAD

I love dessert loaves of any kind, so naturally, this would be on the list lol.

MAPLE BUTTER COOKIES

Super simple comfort food! I love any time of cookie with brown sugar.

BRING ME POSITIVITY PECAN FRENCH TOAST BAKE

I love French toast, and I love positivity~

SAMHAIN SOUL CAKES RECIPE

These are really good! And traditional. If you celebrate Samhain, I recommend you make some soul cakes and have friends and family help decorate. I give the littles a bag of orange frosting and let them go crazy lol.

FEEL BETTER CHICKEN SOUP

One of my most recent is my witchy twist on chicken noodle soup!

#witches #kitchen witch #witchy #witch #magick #kitchen witch recipes #food #recipes #witchblr #kitchen magick #foodblogger #sabbats #litha #kitchen witch tips #modern witch #modern witchcraft

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lilmissnatcat24 · 17 days

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for no other reason than i worked at an ice cream shop for eight years, here's what ice cream the mass effect characters would eat

shepard: neapolitan, strawberry for their paragon side, chocolate for their renegade, vanilla to balance

garrus: moose tracks, but will pick it apart just for the peanut butter cups and give shepard the leftovers

tali: literally any booze flavored ice cream

liara: mint chocolate chip because she secretly kind've fucks with the taste of toothpaste but will never admit it out loud

kaidan: butter pecan. it's not everyone's favorite, but it's his, and he's totally cool with it

ashley: whatever the 2183 equivalent to the tonight dough. cookie dough chunks, brownie chunks, butterscotch, chocolate chips, malt chunks, everything

wrex: this man is old as balls!!!!!! rum raisin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

joker: lemon sherbet. you cannot tell me that man is not lactose intolerant

miranda: cherries garcia, little bit sweet, little bit tart

jack: the most sickening sweet shit you can think of. cotton candy with marshmallow superman with a side of sugar

jacob: some sort of dark chocolate peanut butter ice cream that sounds good in theory but in reality you can only take like 3 bites of before you get a tummy ache

zaeed: banana splits that he likes to mash together with a spoon and eat like some deconstructed milkshake

kasumi: the weird avant gard shit you see in hipster vegan shops, like some bacon sweet potato rosebud ice cream

mordin: coffee ice cream, because he likes the taste of coffee but if he were to actually drink it he would spontaneously combust

grunt: those froyo shops that were everywhere in 2014 where you could make a bowl with like 5% froyo and 95% other toppings and it cost 14 dollars

thane: doesn't like ice cream because it reminds him of how he abandoned his child and how his wife is dead and he could never go back to the life he left behind, the life of stability, because his body is engineered for a deadly purpose and he can never atone for his sins rocky road

samara: this woman is old as balls!!!!!!!!!!!!! pistachio!!!!!!!!!!!

legion: tried vanilla ice cream. too sticky, got stuck in his wiring.

james: one of those brownie sundaes that weighs approximately 5 pounds and is majority whipped cream

steve: chocolate chip. classy, just like him ;)

traynor: something smooth and rich and velvety and inexplicably sexy, like raspberry chocolate chunk

edi: takes the idea of ice cream a little too literally and just has a bowl of heavy cream with ice cubes. is confused why everyone is disgusted.

javik: ice cream is for primitives (peaches and cream)

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yongislong · 1 year

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room 119.

genre: jaemin tooth rotting fluff, comfort, established relationship, nonidol!jaemin, suggestive perhaps? college au ofc

note: this is for the anon with the jaemin brainrot hehe... ty for the idea! not proofread but tbh... kinda obsessed with this and yeah it made me incredibly lonely soooo... i hope you enjoy muahaha

you hadn't heard from jaemin all day!

granted, it was still early in the morning, but you trusted him enough to not skip classes again. for the third time. this week.

it's chilly out as you make the short walk to his dorm building across the literature room in which you shared a philosophy class. you assumed he would text you if he was skimping out on lecture, again, but it was radio silence.

you were worried to say the least. it was often that he would skip, but he never, ever was the type of lover to go m.i.a on you.

hiking your backpack tighter on your shoulders, you trudged through the bright orange and yellow leaves. their dull crunching sound under the soles of your shoes are drowned out by the wind blowing past your ears.

finally reaching his dorm room, you roughly knock on the door. sniffling and wiping your nose. annoyed and cheeks red from your 10 minute walk to scold your sleepy boyfriend, you rock back and forth on your feet, a pout evident on your face as you let a couple seconds pass before knocking again.

however your hand never reaches the white wooden door, jaemin swings the door open, bed head on full display as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

your gaze rakes down to his neck and bare torso, following his happy trail all the way to the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, landing your gaze down to his feet clad in cheetah print socks. you look back up at him, letting your eyes linger back on his chest and collarbones.

you both stand at the door way for a while, he's amused at your reaction, no matter how many times you've seen him like this, it never fails to leave you incredibly flustered. and he's so grateful he's the only one who gets to make you feel like this.

"well are you gonna chew me out for skipping or is me being half naked a good enough apology?" he rasps.

too much time passes and he snaps you out of your thoughts with a chuckle, pulling you into his warm apartment by your wrists. his bed was pressed up against the left side of the wall, covered in posters and fairy lights. his room smelled like pumpkin pecan waffles and you couldn't help but let your eyes soften at the framed picture of you on his nightstand.

he has a drawer designated to your chapsticks, lip balms, hair ties, rings, nail polishes and any other trinkets you've left behind any time you visit him.

dragging you over to his bed as he plops on the mattress, tilting his head up to look at you, as you push his bangs back with your palms, he pulls you in from your belt loops, you let your arms hang over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into your stomach once he rests his forehead on your ribs.

you notice the matching string bracelets you both bought on your first date together, hanging loosely on his wrist, you feel the fraying string as he trails a palm under the back of you shirt.

he feels warmer than the hot packs you had slipped into the pockets of your large jacket.

lifting his head up, he gives you an almost drunk grin. as if though your perfume made him as tipsy as his favorite bottle of peach soju he keeps tucked away in his bright purple mini fridge.

you continue to rake your hands over the hairs at the nape of his neck but stop one he removes your arms from his neck in order to help you slip the coat off your shoulders. standing up for a moment to untie your scarf and tuck his head into the crook of your neck to pepper a few smooches on the exposed skin where your shirt slipped from the friction of your coat being dragged off.

"you okay bunny?" you whisper, worried he skipped class for more than just an extra couple hours of sleep.

"never been better," he says genuinely and you can hear the smile on his face as his breath raises goosebumps near your spine and upper arms.

he sighs as he removes himself, he seems almost annoyed that he has to be apart from you for even a moment, as he helps you slip off your shoes and rests you against his pillows.

once he has you on the mattress he hikes up his sweatpants before tugging you down a bit by your bare ankles. he moves you a bit lower, allowing himself to rest all his weight on your chest, wrapping his buff arms around your hips. immediately closing his eyes and absentmindedly reaching for your arms. once found, he tugs your wrists yet again and not so subtly drapes your left arm over the top of his shoulder blades.

the skin is unbelievably soft and warm, and you can't help but instinctively begin scratching lightly against his thick, broad shoulders, trailing your nails down the middle of his back, reaching towards the band of his boxers.

you trace all the way back up to trace a heart over his left shoulder blade. you sensed how his pulse sped up and a smile take over his face, as the feeling of his cheekbones poking your sternum became more prominent.

right after, you feel him deeply exhale, as though he's needed this more than you know, but was too afraid to use words.

his grip around you tightens and you take this as an opportunity to crane you neck down and return the favor of peppering kisses near the top of his spine.

feeling him relax over your body is better than attending art history class for. sure.

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ihni · 25 days

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For @harringrovemicrofic, March prompt: "Billy's birthday" (wordcount: 403)

~~~

Billy wakes up alone.

The spot on the mattress next to him is cold, so Steve must have left a while ago. Judging by the sounds coming from downstairs, though, he didn’t go far.

There are sounds of someone puttering about in the kitchen; the clinking of plates, the sound of cutlery being placed on the countertop, the refrigerator door opening and closing. All to a backdrop of tinny pop music on low from the radio they keep on the sill in the kitchen window.

Billy, used to early morning after all the years under his father’s roof, is usually up before his boyfriend, who likes to sleep in. So it is not often that Steve wakes up before Billy, these days. But it happens, on special occasions.

Special occasions like today.

When Billy hears footsteps in the little hallway leading to the bedroom, he stretches out in the bed and rolls over onto his stomach, smiling into his pillow.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you …”

Steve has a good voice for singing, but he’s usually too self-conscious to sing outside of the shower. Which is a shame, because Billy loves listening to him.

“… happy birthday dear Billy …”

The door to the bedroom is nudged open, and Steve appears in the doorway, holding a tray full of various items. His hair is sleep-mussed, and while he has pulled on a pair of sweatpants, he is still wearing his sleep-shirt.

He is the most beautiful thing Billy has ever seen.

“… happy birthday to you!”

Billy rolls onto his side and backs up a bit so Steve can put the tray down on the bed next to him, utterly incapable of keeping his smile off his face as Steve leans over to place a kiss on Billy’s nose.

“Happy birthday, baby.”

His face warming, Billy turns to inspect the plentiful breakfast in front of him. There is coffee and chocolate chip pancakes, fruit salad and an omelet, raspberry crumble pie and a glass of orange juice. There’s even a scoop of butter pecan ice cream in a bowl.

“You spoil me,” Billy half-protests, still smiling.

“You deserve it,” Steve says and steals a grape from the fruit salad. “And you only turn twenty-one once."

“I’m gonna get fat.”

“If you do, I’ll still love you.”

Billy’s smile is so wide that it almost hurts. “Sap.”

“Always for you, baby.”

#harringrovemicroficmarch #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy's birthday #ihni writes #harringrove fic

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alrightbuckaroo · 17 days

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what is a promise if not your hand in mine?

When TK can’t suppress his nerves, he has a very easy tell. He holds his hands to his mouth; as if he’s stopping all the words he actually wants to say.

When TK wants to comfort Carlos, he expresses it in the softness of his touch. He’ll place a gentle hand on Carlos’ face, reminding him that he’s here.That he’s still right here.

TK might not wake up, and Carlos can’t even hold his hand. TK might not wake up, and all Carlos wants to do is hold his hand.

—

Carlos doesn’t know where he went wrong; where they went wrong. What he does know, is that he’ll do anything he can to fix it.

He chooses not leave the hospital until TK wakes up. At some point, he doesn’t think he can leave. All the weight of “what happened” has weighed him down.

At some point, he thinks, maybe it’s best if he leaves. Carlos tells Nancy that he’s holding a vigil for a man who doesn’t he want him in his life.

Nancy doesn’t buy it; she tells Carlos that TK loves him.

Carlos doesn’t buy it; he asks Nancy why she would say that.

Nancy looks at Carlos, confused, and answers, “Because it’s true,”

Nancy tells Carlos that she can’t even say his name around TK because it’s too painful for him to hear. “It’s obvious,” Nancy says, as if it’s obvious. “He loves you.”

With watery eyes, he looks at Nancy and asks, “If he loves me so much,” His voice is tight, an edge to it. “Why did he break my heart?”

—

Carlos allows himself to be upset, and he tells TK how he really feels. He knows TK can’t hear him, but he thinks it might make him feel better.

It doesn’t, not really.

—

TK wakes up.

He wakes up and the first thing he does is call Carlos, “Baby.” He reaches out and grabs Carlos’ hand. To remind him, he’s here. He’s still right here.

It’s in that moment, Carlos can feel his broken heart slowly start to mend itself together again.

—

A week later, Carlos asks TK what he’d like for dinner. TK says red snapper will always sound good.

On the drive to the grocery store, TK asks Carlos what he’d like for dessert. Carlos says cookies will always sound good. TK suggests they make the cookies he always made with his mom growing up.

Carlos is touched; he asks TK, “Are you sure?”

TK shrugs, “You’re sharing your home with me; the least I could do is share a piece of mine with you.”

—

They grab all the necessary ingredients. Pretzels, chocolate chips, shredded coconut, and candied pecans. They’re standing in the baking aisle when TK asks Carlos if he remembers what the secret ingredient is.

“Toffee?” Carlos asks as TK reaches for a bag of brown sugar.

TK smiles at him, and Carlos loves everything about it. “Love.”

—

They thank the cashier and head back to their apartment.

Walking through the parking lot, all Carlos can think about is TK’s hand in his. He asks the question he already knows the answer to. He says it out loud; to make it real, to make them real.

“Can I hold your hand?”

“Of course,” TK reaches his hand out, grabbing onto Carlos’ hand without a second thought. “That’s what it’s there for.”

Cross posted this from ao3 as it's not only topical but one of my personal favorites. Hope you enjoyed <3

#my writing #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos #911 lone star #911 ls #tarlos fanfic #tarlos fic #series: all things end but we begin again #series: this is what falling in love feels like

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curtsycream · 3 months

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Farmer’s Market Crush

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

warning: self indulgent fluff, can he please be my farmers market crush???, the reader has curly hair and is southern, the hair detail can be skipped over its not that important, his smile so pretty <33

She stood at her booth when she spotted him, in front of her was a variety of jams. From blackberry to peach all fresh and homemade. They were in adorable little glass jars that looked professional almost. “Can I help you with anything?”

Hotch hadn’t noticed her until she spoke his eyes focusing on her. He was a bit startled as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts.

She stood with a smile on her face as she looked at Hotch. “I’m sorry did I startle you? I apologize if I did…you just looked as if your mind was somewhere else!” She said sweetly.

Hotch had to stop himself from smiling at the question she just asked, he was most definitely zoned out at that point. That was until he heard that voice, so adorable and sweet sounding, with just the right amount of twang in it, it took all of his concentration to stay focused.

When she had asked if she startled him, Hotch simply shook his head, “No…no you’re fine… I apologize. It was….”

What should he say? He didn’t wanna tell her he had zoned out when he noticed her behind her booth.

She laughed softly as she shook her head, “don’t worry we all zone out sometimes..” she said in a understanding manner.

She was still smiling at him as if it was permanently etched onto her face. She found him handsome and truth be told she was staring at him for a bit before she finally spoke up.

Hotch cleared his throat not sure what else to say, he then saw her looking at him. Her sweet smile making her look sweeter than she did at first. Yet something about her…something about her was familiar. He knew what she looked like but it was also a certain way she carried herself…and that accent…that southern belle twang that made him almost melt in her presence.

Hotch finally remembered where he had seen her before. But she beat him to the punch when she spoke again.

“You look familiar,” she said tilting her head causing her curls to drape over her shoulder. She leans forward a little over her booth, “you’re with the BAU right? I think I spoke with you before at that little coffee house on Main Street..” she finally said.

That was it, he remembered her from that coffee shop. And in the back of his mind he had thought it was because she was involved in a recent case. He couldn’t explain just how happy that fact made him. And her accent only made his smile grow.

He looked over at her and nodded, “Yes…yes I am.”

Her accent making even the simplest sentences feel like love songs in his ears. “Your name is Y/N right?” His voice was soft and calm like a cool breeze on a summer’s night.

“Yeah Y/N!” She said with enthusiasm as she nodded her head at him. She knew he looked familiar as she had remembered hearing that voice before. Along with that face that seemed to hold just the right amount of endearment and warmth.

He nodded his head before he looked over at her booth, now noticing the sign that read “fresh jams, homemade. By: Y/N” and adorable little jars of jam. “You make these?”

“Yeah it’s a hobby, I make other things too! I make my own breads and even pecan pralines I like to think I make ‘em the best.” She boosted slightly. “I have all kinds of jams today…I hadn’t had the time to make breads in about a week.”

He listened intently as he examined her booth, seeing her homemade jams and baked goods was truly astonishing to him.

“You make bread?” Hotch’s voice was soft still as he thought back to one moment in his past.

“What type of bread?”

“I make French loafs, sweet breads, multigrain, whole wheat bread, honey wheat bread, sourdough, rye! I started making brioche that’s my favorite one!” She tells him with a smile.

His heart raced when he heard this. French loaf, sweet breads, honey wheat bread and homemade brioche…was this some sort of gift from above?

As he watched the gentle breeze blow her curls around her face he spoke up again. “You know, you make the same bread as my mother did when I was growing up.”

“Really? Does she still make bread?” She asked with interest. She found the idea of someone older making bread amazing. In her small neighborhood not many did or showed interest to continue.

He looked over at her. His eyes looked as if they had a glimmer of sadness to them. “Unfortunately she…has passed away.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said with a compassionate smile on her face. She had genuine sympathy in her E/C eyes as she spoke.

Hotch looked away for a moment, he didn’t want this woman to feel bad for him, he had come here to see the market. “What do you recommend?” He asked softly, looking over at her.

She took the hint as she looked back at him, “from any booth?” She asked. She knew each booth pretty well so recommendations came easy to her.

He truly appreciated how kind she was, just like his mother used to be. He then nodded his head once more “yeah, any booth. Since you work here you’d probably know the best recommendation, right?” he smiled again.

She points around, “if you’re into fresh produce Mr. Cook’s booth is perfect he spends his time with the vegetables he grows. He also sells them for dirt cheap because he just enjoys doing it! Oh and Mable the little old lady over there makes the best macarons! She has this hazelnut praline one that’s so good! But if you lack a sweet tooth and like savory…Henry the tall fella over there he has the best homemade chips. He mixes them with different things, I’ve never had honey chips before until I tried his.” She rambled with a smile.

Hotch was amazed at how sweet and adorable she sounded. Her voice was comforting in a way. When she was finished talking Hotch nodded in response, “okay. I think I’ll have to try out a sample of your home made jams. I also think I’ll go try out the honey chips too.”

His voice was calm, and his smile was warm. It was as if he was looking at the girl of his dreams. But maybe he was just being a bit overly dramatic.

She grins, “tell me what’s your favorite jam?” She said as she looked at him. There was subtle kindness in her eyes as she spoke to him.

He looked back at her, “blackberry is my favorite.” He wasn’t so sure why he was so flustered, “what’s your favorite jam, Y/N?”

His name sounded lovely whenever said with the southern accent and his heart raced even more with the look in her eyes. It was a genuine look, not of judgment or pretend, there was only sweetness and playfulness. Something about her made him nervous yet excited.

Y/N looks through her jams before picking up the blackberry one. She thinks for a moment, “mine would be apple jam…on a piece of toast it tastes like apple pie. It’s so good especially if you use honey crisp or cosmic apples..” she says.

She holds out the blackberry jam, “this one is on the house…call it a getting to know you gift.” She tells him.

He watches as she picks up the blackberry jam, his eyes gazing at her for what feels like forever for him “you sure? I can pay for it of course, you work very hard for this I can’t imagine you’d be giving this up for free.”

Hotch was almost too mesmerized by her beauty to speak at this point he was still flustered and nervous. The feeling of her kindness and charm was making him feel as if he was floating and in a dream.

Y/N waved her hand dismissively, “don’t worry about it…usually Mable comes through here and pretty much buys me out for the holiday seasons.” She reassured him.

Hotch was still worried but at least he knew she wouldn’t be losing money if he took that blackberry jam. “If you say so…thank you Y/N.”

Hotch then looked around the market. He hadn’t yet noticed Derek and Penelope standing watching the scene unfold.

“You’re always welcome Aaron..” she said in a soft tone. She noticed the onlookers before letting out a small laugh. “Hey…I think we should get to know each other better..” she started. “If you want to that is..”

Hotch felt the world go still and quiet. Her words felt like honey dripping from her sweet lips. Her accent made his stomach grow with butterflies and warmth and her sweet tone was like the lullaby he had been needing to hear.

“I…I would like that.” He spoke firmly. But his voice had more confidence now as he couldn’t stop gazing at her.

Derek then taps Hotch on the shoulder, “come on Hotch, let’s not hog this lovely ladies time.”

She watched as Hotch was lead away by his friend as she waved goodbye. As Hotch was walking away while being pestered by Penelope and Derek for answers he turned the jar in his hand. His eyes widening for a second as he noticed the number on the back of the jam label.

***-***-****, we should get to know each other more <3

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fluff #criminal minds #x reader #fluff #aaron fic #farmers market crush

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twofrontteethstillcrooked · 3 months

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In the dream, Dean walked through the bunker, or a facsimile of it, the hallways' angles not quite true, the rooms not quite plumb. His hands were bloody the first time he looked down at them, dusty the second time. It took him long minutes to walk up the metal staircase because there were twice as many steps as usual, with a curling ascent that made him a little dizzy. The heavy door was hard to open. With his weight against it, it opened with an echoing thunk; he fell into a field of knee-high grass and chicory as blue as Cas's eyes.

An empty field. His palms were still ashen.

The sorrow that tore through his body woke him more than the fall did. He blinked up at the wooden beams hatched across the farmhouse bedroom ceiling and tried to catch his breath. A tear slid down into his right ear and made him flinch. After a few swallows, he sat up and stretched. Rubbed his eyes dry. Noticed a strange brightness flaring around the perimeter of the bedroom's window curtain and let the ache behind his ribcage fade.

His feet registered the chill of the floor before the rest of him did and he skipped over to the window on tiptoe. With the curtain open the source of the light proved to be dawn illuminating the skim of snow atop everything in the yard – a powdered sugar dusting, surprising only because 24 hours ago it'd been 60F degrees outside.

He was gargling mouthwash when elsewhere in the house it sounded like someone was fighting off ninjas with a cookie sheet.

"You okay?" Dean asked at the kitchen doorway.

Cas, startled, dropped a metal pie plate (again) and groaned. "I'm sorry." He picked up the wayward pan and inspected it for dents before putting it firmly on the counter. "I didn't mean to wake you." He turned to give a more settled smile. "Hello, Dean."

Dean snuck in and wrapped Cas up in a hug before he could move away. "Good morning," he whispered into Cas's soft hair.

"Happy birthday," Cas said, his voice still smiling. He pulled back enough to look up at Dean, typical earnestness all over his face. "I guess my surprise won't be much of one now."

Dean blinked as the pie plate suddenly made sense. "Are you making me pie?" Delight bubbled up in his chest as Cas mouthed yes; Dean let his hands slide to Cas's waist and held on, anchoring himself there.

Cas ducked his head. "I was going to try." He glanced at a cookbook cracked open on the nearby table where they usually drank coffee and watched the sun rise, and beside it a bowl, a stick of butter, the canister labeled 'flour' and the canister labeled 'sugar', three loose eggs, a big wooden spoon, and a bag of nutmeats.

"Pecan. My favorite." Dean kissed the side of Cas's head. "Would you like some help?"

After a pause, Cas said, "No." He didn't sound sure of the answer. "It's your birthday. You should take the day off. I can manage." His hands on Dean's chest were another anchor.

"It is my birthday, so I think I should get to choose how to spend the morning." Dean quirked an eyebrow the way Cas often did when he was being bossy. "And I would like to help you make the best pecan pie either of us has ever eaten." He let his expression sweeten as a flush crept across Cas's cheeks. "Please."

Cas nodded, eyes shining. Dean gathered him into his arms again because he could. He was 45 years old and holding the love of his life in their tiny kitchen with the oven ticking, with snow sparkling through the windows. They were living their small, precious lives together in freedom, in peace (what 45 years had taught Dean the hard way: they could have both) and there was nothing empty about it.

They stood swaying sleepily for a couple of minutes before the desire for pie, and other things, started to eat away at Dean's brain. Low at Cas's ear, he said, "You know, pecan pie is best served room temp. We'll need to let it cool down after it's out of the oven before we can cut into it. Might take an hour."

"We haven't even started–"

"I'm just saying," Dean continued, "we'll need to find something else to do with ourselves in a little while." He cleared his throat. "Some way to pass the time."

Cas tipped his head up. "I don't think figuring that out will be an issue," he murmured, and pressed closer.

#birthday party for dean 2024 #spn #deancas #destiel #fic #snippetfic

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stevethehairington · 2 years

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once october hits and the weather turns cold, steve, eddie, robin, and nancy deicde to go to a pumpkin patch.

it's robin's idea, as she reads about the opening of one nearby and gets excited about going and indulging in all things fall.

steve pulls out his favorite chunky knit sweater (eddie touches it once when he first sees steve, then cant stop petting it throughout the rest of their trip because "it's so soft, man"). nancy's got her giant knit scarf looped around her neck at least three times (by the end of the night she'll be sharing it with robin). and eddie and robin unintentionally match in their flannels — eddie's topped with his leather jacket, robin's with her jean jacket.

they go with the intention of hunting for the perfect pumpkins to carve; but when they get to the pumpkin patch they see that it's so much more than just a pumpkin patch. there are stands with gourds, and apples, and squashes, and all kinds of fall fruits and veggies. there are craft stalls set up too, people selling homemade jewelry or candles or tie-dyed t-shirts or wooden carvings and the like.

there's a wooden cabin with a full baking kitchen and display cases of all sorts of baked goods: turnovers of all sorts, apple pies, pecan pies, berry pies, caramel apples, apple donuts, fudge. they sell apple cider, hot and cold, at the counter too.

at the entrance to the pumpkin patch area there are some wooden photo stand-ins, one of two scarecrows standing next to each other, one of three pumpkins in a wooden wheelbarrow, and one of a sunflower. nancy brought her polaroid, so they all take turns sticking their faces into the cutouts. she snaps one photo of steve and robin in the scarecrows, another of steve, robin, and eddie in the pumpkins, one of robin in the sunflower. steve takes the polaroid from her and insists nancy and eddie take a turn in the scarecrows, so they do. they robin catches nancy by surprise, curling her arms around her from behind, tucking her chin over nancy's shoulders, and steve snaps a photo of that too.

in the pumpkin patch itself, they search for the perfect pumpkin. eddie had a very specific criteria for his — it's got to be a big one with a good face to carve into; it's got to make a good sound when he knocks on it; it's got to be orange enough; it can't be rotten; there needs to be a stem. steve picks up pumpkin after pumpkin, holding each out to eddie with a raised eyebrow. each one gets a full inspection, but eddie always finds something wrong with them. "it's too skinny, there's not enough room to carve anything good." "steve, the whole underside is rotted, did you even look at it!" "mm, no, it doesn't have a stem." it's a little ridiculous, steve thinks, but he can't say he isn't having fun with it. sometimes he picks one that very obviously doesn't fit eddie's criteria on purpose — he likes the look eddie gives him each time, something fondly, affectionately annoyed. and if that also gets eddie to stick more closely to steve's side since steve can't seem to figure it out, that's just a bonus.

after they find their pumpkins, they hit the bakery. nancy gets a blackberry turnover, robin orders a dozen apple donuts ("i need some to take home, steve! these things are the best!"), eddie gets a caramel apple, and steve orders a slice of apple pie. he also gets some assorted fudge to bring back for the kids. they all get cups of hot apple cider too.

robin and nancy share their pastries, sitting close and swapping bites. eddie nearly gets his hair stuck in the caramel, and steve just laughs. eddie laughs back at him when steve spoons up a particularly big chunk of apple filling and it slips off the end of the spoon and right into his lap. he says it's karma. then holds up his apple, grinning stupidly, and says "or should i say... caramel." it's a terrible joke, but it makes steve laugh anyways as he tries to clean himself off.

robin asks nancy if she wants to go on the hay ride and nancy says yes but also jokes that robin is stealing steve's move because he used to always take his dates on the hay ride as an excuse to cuddle up to them. this, of course, makes steve flush bright red because not five minutes earlier he'd asked eddie if he wanted go on the hay ride. eddie had said yes, and steve did have every intention of using said hay ride as an excuse to cuddle up to him, thanks very much nancy.

they sit close on the hay bales in the back of the wagon, thighs pressed together, arms brushing. steve rests his arm against the side of the wagon behind eddie, feels eddie shift closer, sees the smile pulling at his mouth out of the corner of his eyes.

one of the tires ends up popping on the tractor pulling the wagon, so everyone unloads and starts the trek back through the apple trees on foot. robin loops her arm through nancy's and off they go, following the crowd. steve elects to hang back a little, waiting for the crowd to disperse, leaving him and eddie to their lonesome.

eddie jokes that steve orchestrated the whole thing to get him alone.

steve laughs, takes a step closer to eddie. backs him up against one of the apple trees. steve doesn't know where the sudden confidence is coming from, but he's grateful for it as he takes eddie's jaw into his hand, cups his palm to it's curve and draws eddie in, bringing their lips together.

he kisses him — the way he's wanted to all day. the way he's wanted to for months now.

eddie tastes like tangy apples and sweet caramel. his mouth is warm and responsive, his tongue soft and insistent against steve's.

when they part, eddie laughs, bright and happy, fingers gripping the front of steve's sweater in a bunch.

the two of them make their way back to the pumpkin patch, fingers twisted together at their sides. they spot robin and nancy, sitting on one of the benches together, nancy's scarf looped around both of their necks — just like steve predicted it'd be. when robin and nancy spot them back, robin's eyes go wide and she claps her hands together, pointing out their clasped hands to nancy, who smiles knowingly.

"you two get a little lost back there?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

steve laughs, flushes pink. he glances over at eddie, leans into his side more, swings their hands a little. "something like that," he answers.

"you had the right idea, roping us into coming here, buckley," eddie chimes in.

"glad to be of service," robin salutes, grinning salaciously.

and yeah, it was the right idea, steve thinks.

they just might have to make this a tradition.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #ronance... if you squint #fruity four #mack writes #macks ficlets

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paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 10 months

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close to home | chapter eighteen

plot: the reader is on the run with Tyreese, Mika, Lizzie, and Judith. They find sanctuary at a house in a pecan grove

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,880 Warnings: violence, blood, slight description of the reader (can be ignored) A/N: thanks for reading!

It’s been two days since the prison fell, and you haven’t had a moment of peace. If it wasn’t walkers, it was a crying baby that brought walkers. If it wasn’t that, it was Lizzie and Mika talking for all hours of the day. It was the worry about trying to keep everyone safe, of sharing the duty of keeping two children and a baby safe in this world.

It was worrying about Tora and ensuring she had enough to eat. And you still have lingering flu symptoms that wrapped everything up. But worst of all, your family was gone. You were thankful for Carol, Tyreese, Judith, and the girls, but you missed the rest of your family.

You were standing on the tracks, teaching Mika Tora’s whistle, while Carol and Lizzie helped aid Tyreese’s cut. Judith was on your hip, playing with the strands of your hair that fell from your braid.

“I think she likes me,” Mika said, crotched down and petting Tora’s belly.

You smiled at the little girl and agreed, trying to keep your eyes out for walkers. After having fences and walls for so long, you almost forgot how scary the world was. When you calmed down after your look around, you turned to Mika.

“I think she likes you, too,” You said.

Finally, Carol, Tyreese, and Lizzie joined you, and you continued following down the train rails. Terminus wasn’t far away, and you hoped to be there by tomorrow. You weren’t entirely sure what the plan was, but you knew Carol had something going on in her mind. You felt more than comfortable leaving the plan up to her.

You hung towards the back of the group, with Tora trotting along next to you. Every time you looked down at the fluff ball, you were amazed and so very thankful that the children thought to grab her. You never would’ve been able to find her in that mess, and that thought was chilling enough to make you scoop down and pick her up. She started purring immediately, and you smiled, kissing the top of her head and holding her close.

“You smell that?” Carol asked, turning back to you.

You sniffed the air a few times before nodding. “Must be a fire,”

“We should stop and look for water,” Tyreese said.

Your group pulled off the tracks into the small clearing next to them. You got to work on laying out some water for Tora and a few pieces of dried meat and ensuring the girls had something too. You knew you, Carol, and Tyreese didn’t have enough to eat. You’d have to go hunting soon and hopefully bring something back.

“I’ll go look for water. I’ll bring Mika.” Carol told you. “Tyreese really needs to rest that arm. Without bandages, it could get infected.”

“Go, I got things covered,” You said.

After they left, you watched Tora curl up in your bag, readying herself for a nap. Lizzie and Tyreese had started a game of I-Spy, and you were a few paces away, making sure nothing was moving about.

You grabbed your machete and walked toward the sound when you heard rustling. You heard Tyreese follow you, and together you watched as a lone walker approached. You both waited for it to come to you, but it got stuck in the tracks a few meters away.

“I got it,” You said, flipping the machete in your hand and walking away.

The poor sucker was wedged in good and you felt sorry for the person who once was just like you. Walking around. Trying to survive. You hesitated for a second at that thought. Daryl could be a walker right now. You hoped and prayed he wasn’t, and you had hope that the archer made it off the prison. Maybe off the bus with everyone else-though that was hard to believe.

You were just about to strike the walker when you heard Lizzie yell from behind you.

(Y/N)!” She yelled, “Sometimes we have to kill them, I know that. But sometimes we don’t.”

You stared down at the little girl in utter confusion. “They’re dead, Lizzie.” You finally said.

She shook her head and looked at the walker. “Can we please just leave it?”

You weren’t sure why she didn’t want you to kill the walker, but you knew she saved your life. And she was grieving what happened in the prison her own way. Maybe she just didn’t want to see any more death. You couldn’t exactly blame her.

So you nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “Alright. Why don’t we sit down? I could use a nice break.”

***

You were starting to worry about how long Carol and Mika were gone when they returned. Mika ran up to you, grabbing your hand. “We found something!” She yelled in excitement. Her smile was contagious, and you cupped the side of her cheek in admiration.

After grabbing your supplies and zipping Tora up in your bag, with a large enough hole at the top for her, you followed Carol. Mika held your hand the entire way there, and when you all approached a small house, she started pulling you along.

“Maybe we can catch our breath here for a while,” You said, looking back at Tyreese and Carol. Their exhaustion mirrored yours, and the idea of having walls and a ceiling was enough to make you want to camp out for a night or two.

The three of you cleared the house quickly, and Tyreese declined your offer to help him bury the walkers you found.

So you helped Carol and the girls get the house up to shape, pinning some blankets onto the windows and getting it ready for the night. You took Mika to the well and brought enough water to last the night. She collected a pail full of pecans, and your stomach grumbled at the idea of getting full off them.

You had sent Mika back inside the house to let Carol know you were going hunting, and an hour later, you walked through the door with a fat rabbit.

“Dinner is here!” You yelled in a sing-song voice, watching as the two girls ran up to you. Mika wrapped her arm around yours and started chattering about how she helped Carol wash all the pecans.

You nodded along as she spoke, but when you walked into the kitchen, Carol sent her off to play. “I swear, that girl just loves you to pieces.” Carol laughed, taking the rabbit from you.

You sat down at the table, grabbed a few unshelled pecans, and ate them. “Yeah, I know,” You said through a mouthful of food.

You and Carol talked quietly while she cleaned and gutted dinner. There was nothing to eat other than rabbit and pecans, but after sunset, you all gorged yourselves on the food. It was the first time in a while you felt almost full.

Mika found a doll to play with after dinner, and you curled up on the couch, stretching out your legs. Tora made herself comfortable sleeping on your stomach and you listened to the quiet conversations while drifting off to sleep.

***

You woke up the following day to the sound of a kettle screeching. You were confused for a few seconds before jumping up, accidentally stepping on Mika’s doll. She yelled, but you ignored it and walked into the kitchen, where Tyreese turned it off.

“How long did I sleep? You should’ve woken me up,” You told him through a yawn.

Tyreese didn’t answer, and you heard the yelling. You both walked to the window, where you saw Carol kneeling next to a walker and Lizzie screaming. You were about to head out there when Tyreese grabbed your arm.

“She’s confused about them. About the walkers,” Tyreese told you.

You thought back to the tracks yesterday, how she didn’t want you to kill the walker. At first, you’d thought it was her trauma talking, but now it was something else entirely. “What are we going to do?” You looked at him.

Tyreese looked at you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, trying to comfort you. “We’ll figure it out,”

***

Later that day, you sat on the floor with Judith and Mika. Judith was sitting in your lap, and Mika attempted to play dolls with her. You sat quietly and watched the two of them. A peacefulness swelled in your heart and made you want to sob.

You wished more than anything that Daryl was here. You could picture him on the chair, knocking back handfuls of pecans at a time and making fun of you for playing dolls with Mika. You’d sarcastically reply that he talks to Judith in a cute little voice when he thinks he’s alone, and then he would swear at you or go completely silent.

You missed your best friend sincerely. Even if he was a man of such few words. How was it only a week ago that you were hunting and everything was right in the world. Or, well, right in this world.

After a few minutes, Judith started getting fussy, and you told Mika to go find Lizzie and play. You tended to get a bottle for Judith and rocking her to sleep. It took longer than you expected, but finally, she was fast asleep in a cocoon of blankets. Tora settled beside her, and your heart melted at the adorable sight. It brought you back to Liam and the baby you would’ve had. If things were right in the old world, and you had your baby, this could have very well happened.

The sound of the girls screaming made you jump up. You grabbed your machete and looked for Lizzie’s gun before you realized she must have it. You didn’t hesitate to run out the door and look around for the girls.

Your stomach dropped at seeing walkers near the girls, and you took off. You didn’t know if Carol and Tyreese were near, and you only had a machete, but you wouldn’t leave those girls to fend for themselves.

A gunshot rang out as Tyreese and Carol cleared the woods, and you reached the girls just in time for walkers to inch their way closer. You pulled Mika away and pushed Lizzie behind your back, aiming your machete at the closest walker and bringing it down.

When the last walker dropped, and you looked around, everyone seemed slightly frazzled. Mika dropped her gun and ran right into you, holding you tightly. “You did good, sweetie,” You told her, rubbing her back and squeezing her. The fragile little girl helped kill the walkers. You never thought you’d see the day.

“We should get inside. The noise will draw more.” Carol said, taking the gun from Lizzie and grabbing Mika’s.

Mika didn’t let go of you the entire way back and stayed by your side for the rest of the night. She curled right up next to you when you went to sleep that night.

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