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storiesforallfandoms · 1 year

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into fiction ~ hannibal (nbc)

word count: 3235

request?: yes!

“I was wondering if you could write Hannibal x gn!reader. Where the reader is a fan of the character Hannibal (TV series and/or books) and by some unknown or weird or accidental circumstance found themselves in Hannibal universe. They are confused, panicked, or even excited. Maybe the reader popped up in less than ideal situation (will it be a therapy session, in between appointments, a crime scene or something). What would be Hannibal's reaction?

I'm sorry if it isn't something you'd write. But I really enjoy your writing.”

description: when they wakes up in the world of their favorite tv show, they must try to blend in the best they can as to not draw too much suspicious attention to themselves

pairing: hannibal (nbc) characters x gender neutral!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder and death

masterlist (one, two)

You awoke from your sleep with a start. You were sat up in a chair in an unknown room. You didn’t remember falling asleep. Actually, you didn’t remember anything at all. Where had you been last? Were you in your bedroom? Had you fallen asleep on the couch?

Actually, this looked like neither of those rooms. It was far too big and fancy to be a room in your apartment.

“(Y/N)?”

That voice sounded familiar.

You lifted your head to find yourself sat across from none other than Hannibal Lecter.

You gasped and jumped a little. “Hannibal?”

He gave you an amused look. “Yes, that is my name. I’m sorry if our session has bored you so much you had to fall asleep.”

No, there was no way this was happening. You had to be dreaming. There is no way you are actually sat across from the most notorious fictional serial killer in history.

You moved your hand discreetly to punch yourself, hard. You stifled another gasp at the sharp pain.

He was watching you. You weren’t sure what you were doing here. You had absolutely no idea how you got here or what happened before this moment. It was like your memory had been completely wiped.

“I-I’m sorry,” you finally said, realizing he was waiting for you to speak. “I just...I guess I was tired?”

“Have you been sleeping?” he asked.

I think I’m asleep right now. “A little.”

“That’s normal after what you’ve been through. Most patients who have been in your situation tend to struggle with sleep for a long time. It may be like this for weeks, months even. If it becomes a problem, I can get in contact with your doctor about prescribing sleeping pills.”

“I...I don’t think that will be necessary.” What happened to me?

Hannibal was still watching you. You wondered if he could tell something was wrong, besides the obvious of whatever this bad thing that landed you in therapy was. He would definitely think you were insane if you started talking about him being a fictional character and how you thought none of this was real.

“You go back to work tomorrow,” he commented. “How do you feel about that?”

“Uh...it’s about time, I guess,” you responded. He raised an eyebrow at you. Shit, wrong answer. “I mean, I know I needed to be away from it, but there’s only so much time someone can be stuck at home before they get restless.”

“So you’ll be trying to return to the field?”

The field? There’s no way...

You shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s not up to me.”

“Jack told me he gave you the choice.”

Shit, there is a way.

You shrugged again. “I guess I just haven’t decided yet.”

Hannibal leaned forward. You started a little, but tried to play it off. Don’t let the cannibal know you’re afraid of him, you had to remind yourself.

“I know you want to return to work and pretend like nothing happened so you can go back to normal,” he started, “but what happened is not something that you can easily forget. That man attacked you in a position you once felt safe in, and you had to kill him. That is not something you can get over in a matter of weeks.”

What?!

Okay, this could not get any worse. So, you woke up in a fictional world where your therapist is a serial killer (but you can’t let him know you know that), you’re an FBI agent, and apparently you were attacked by a suspect that you then had to kill.

At least I don’t remember any of that.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, although you weren’t sure if you would be.

“I’m sure you will be. Nevertheless, I want to continue with these sessions as you start to work again. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

You nodded, unable to speak.

Hannibal saw you out at the end of your session. Somehow, you knew which car in the parking lot was yours and you quickly got in, grateful to finally be on your own.

This was so much to take in. How did you get here? How were you supposed to blend in with a life you didn’t even remember? Especially when you knew the Hannibal series so well, so you knew what was likely going to happen if it hadn’t already.

You unlocked your phone and opened your GPS. Luckily, the “home” address was saved in there. You loaded up the address and drove towards the place that was supposedly your home in this world. It was still a small place, but it was definitely a lot nicer than your old apartment.

You went to your bedroom and shed yourself of your unfamiliar clothes and got into the unfamiliar bed. You were hoping to go to sleep and wake up back in your own bed and all of this would just be one big, realistic dream.

~~~~~~

You were awoken to the sound of a phone alarm. You rolled over and blindly felt around the nightstand to turn it off. It took a while for your body to fully wake up, and when you opened your eyes, you gasped.

You were still in the unfamiliar room of your Hannibal world apartment.

“No,” you whispered. “No, no, no. This cannot be real.”

You pinched yourself again, but there was still a sharp feeling of pain when you did so. It was starting to set in that whatever was happening was real, but that realization just made you feel more dread. If this was real, what did that mean for your family? Were they here too, or were you the only one pulled into this world? And if they hadn’t, did that mean you were alone in this universe?

You didn’t have enough time to delve into this existential crisis. If this was your life now, you would have to try and blend in. Maybe you could figure out how you got here.

You prepared yourself to go into work. You figured your nervousness would be mistaken for hesitance on returning after a traumatic event, which would work in your favor. You just needed to prepare yourself for any questions that may be unanswerable for now.

You surprised yourself by knowing how to get to the office without needing the GPS. You must’ve had some muscle memory despite not remembering anything else. Hopefully that meant your memories of this world would come back just as easily eventually.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you as you entered the FBI building. You knew they were all looking at you because of the event that resulted in you having to be away from work for some time, but you couldn’t help but worry they were looking like they because they knew you were an imposter. Like maybe they sensed your unease in this world and knew that you weren’t meant to be here.

The minute you stepped out into the familiar office you had seen on TV a number of times before, you were met with a hug that caught you off guard. You stumbled slightly, trying to figure out which character was hugging you. The minute you realized it was a female, you knew exactly who it was: Beverly.

She’s not dead yet. Thank God.

You hugged her back, squeezing just a little more than you would’ve for anyone else. Knowing what Beverly’s fate had in store for her made this one a little more special to you.

“Don’t overwhelm her on her first day back, Beverly,” came another familiar voice.

You looked up to see none other than Jack Crawford approaching you. Beverly pulled away from your hug and, despite his comment to her, Jack pulled you in for one as well.

“Good to have you back, (Y/N).”

“Good to be back,” you said, and you almost believed it. You had zero recollection of this place or what kind of work you did here, but it felt good to be here. To be surrounded by characters that you loved so much, for real, instead of just watching them on a screen.

Jack pulled away from your hug and nodded for you to follow him. You gave Beverly a small smile before following Jack towards his office. He closed the door behind you and gestured for you to sit at the chair across from his desk.

“I’ve been talking to Doctor Lecter about your sessions leading up to you coming back,” he said once he had sat down at his desk.

Your brows furrowed together. “Isn’t that against doctor-patient confidentiality?”

“Only if he tells me the specifics of your sessions, which is not what I was asking him about. I wanted to know if he thinks you’re ready to be back in the field.”

“And his response?”

Jack sighed. “He thinks you need to keep up with the sessions, and he believes you may need some aid for sleeping. He said you seemed very tired and out of it yesterday.”

You shifted in your seat. “Yeah. I...I was having a...weird day to say the least.”

“I told you that when you came back, it would be your decision if you wanted to be in the field or if you wanted to wait,” Jack said. “Despite having spoken to Doctor Lecter, I am still giving you that choice. Do you think you’re ready to be back, (Y/N)?”

You knew that the answer was no. You didn’t know the first thing about being an FBI agent. If you said you weren’t ready for the field, you gave yourself an out to try and figure out more about your role here before being thrown into it. But, for some reason, you heard yourself saying to Jack, “Yes, I do.”

Jack seemed skeptical, but hearing your certainty he said, “Well, let’s go to your first crime scene back.”

~~~~~~

You tried not to seem too fidgety as you and Jack drove to the scene. You didn’t want to give yourself away, but you weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to see a murder scene, especially not one as gruesome as a Hannibal crime scene. You were squeamish watching them on TV, let alone seeing one in person.

The scene seemed relatively tame (for Hannibal standards anyways) as you pulled up: a bunch of police officers were walking around near the edge of a river, yellow tape crossing off most of the forest-like area on either side of the river so no one would trample the crime scene. One of the officers nodded to Jack as the two of you approached and held up the tape for the two of you to duck under.

Waiting for you was the one person you had been hoping to meet: Will Graham.

“Welcome back, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a subtle nod before turning to Jack. “Body was anchored down to stay at the bottom of the river. It might not have been found if it wasn’t for a hiker and her dog.”

“Are they still here?” Jack asked.

“Over talking to some police.” Will led the two of you towards the river’s edge. A black body back was at the edge of the grass, zipped tight to hide the body inside of it.

“Do we know what the cause of death was?” Jack asked.

Will shook his head. “This body has been down there long enough that whatever fish or aquatic creatures are in the pond have eaten away enough of the body to make it unrecognizable. We can’t even get an identity off of him right now until we send him to forensics.”

You braced yourself as Will reached down to the bag to unzip it, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the body that was inside. Actually, “body” was putting it too generously. What was inside the body bag was mostly bone and some muscle, with almost all of the skin having been eaten off or otherwise washed away by the water.

Your stomach lurched and you quickly turned away, covering your mouth in case you did throw up. Jack was quick to follow you, putting a soothing hand on your back.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded, but didn’t feel as though you were able to speak just yet.

“Close it up, Will,” Jack said.

“You’ve never been queasy around bodies before,” Will pointed out.

“Just do it!”

You heard the body bag zipping closed. You took a couple of deep breaths to settle your pounding heart and your weak stomach before standing up again. Even though you knew the body bag was closed, you refused to turn back around. You couldn’t face it, or Will and Jack for that matter.

“Maybe you should go back to the station,” Jack suggested.

“I’ll be fine,” you lied.

“(Y/N), as your superior I am giving you an order to go back to the station. Will and I will take care of this, you can help back at the lab with whatever data we can recover.”

You nodded and headed back to the black SUV that you and Jack had arrived in. You sat behind the wheel for a moment, taking a second to recover from what had happened by the river, before turning on the vehicle and driving away from the scene.

However, despite the orders Jack had given you, you didn’t drive back to the station. Instead, you found yourself back at Hannibal’s office. You walked in, not thinking of how Hannibal was likely with another patient, and starting banging on his office door. Luckily, when he opened it, he was alone.

“(Y/N),” he said, surprised by your appearance. “I thought you were returning to your job today.”

“I don’t remember a single thing that has happened before I woke up in your office yesterday, and I’m convinced I’m in a different universe where you and everyone in here are fictional characters and I somehow landed here as an FBI agent who killed someone.”

He looked at you for a long time before stepping aside and gesturing you into his office. No doubt he was trying to think of the phone number for the best mental asylum to send you to as he closed the door behind you and followed you in.

“Let’s start with the memory loss issue,” he said, sitting down in the same chair he was in the day before when you arrived. “You say you don’t remember anything before our session yesterday? Not even how you got here?”

You shook your head and sat across from him. “Nothing. I mean, I have some muscle memories, like I knew how to get to the FBI office today and I knew how to get here from the crime scene I just left, but other than that I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember my job, I don’t remember that attack that supposedly landed me in therapy, I don’t even remember my apartment or if my family is really my family.”

“Do you think this may have something to do with the trauma from the attack?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s no way. If that was it, I would have just that moment repressed and not my entire life before now. But it’s all gone. I can’t even tell you how I got to your office yesterday for our session or what we were talking about before I woke up.”

You started to pace around his office while he watched you. “And, besides, if it was just trauma from the attack, why would I believe that all of this is fake? Why do I think certain things are going to happen, bad things, to the people who are supposedly my colleagues, because I thought I saw them on TV already?”

“It could be that your mind is trying so hard to repress what happened that it has created a false reality that you believe to be true,” Hannibal explained. “Maybe you fell into that delusion yesterday before our session and snapped out of it while here.”

That explanation made sense, but it also terrified you even more. What was real in that case? What wasn’t? And why could you still not remember anything if you had potentially snapped out of the delusion?

“What kinds of things do you think are going to happen to your colleagues?”

You froze. How do you respond to this? What you knew all linked back to Hannibal’s secret - if that was even a real thing and not just another delusion. But if that was real, you couldn’t let him know you were onto him, unless you wanted to become his next victim.

“Beverly is killed by a serial killer,” you started, trying to be as vague as possible. “Killed and left on display for Jack to find. Will goes to prison for a murder he didn’t commit. You and Alana...” You trailed off and let out a slight chuckle, “You start a relationship.”

An amused look passes on Hannibal’s face as well. “A very imaginative mind you have. Is that all?”

You shake your head. “There’s so much more. There’s...well, there’s three seasons worth of plot I think I know about everyone.”

“And yet Beverly is still alive, Will has not been to prison, nor do I think he ever will be, and Doctor Bloom and I have a professional relationship that I do not see changing any time soon. Perhaps you are just trying to deal with the trauma you have gone through by creating these false scenarios where you are a viewer instead of partaking in the violence.”

You could feel tears starting to well up in your eyes. It was all becoming too much to think about. “Doctor Lecter, am I going crazy?”

“We do not use that type of language here,” he responded. “You are dealing with something very distressing, something that has never happened to you before and that can be very traumatic to remember. It is very likely that your brain is trying to protect yourself from those memories by repressing them and trying to come up with a safer reality for you.”

You nodded your head along to what he was saying.

“I believe we should up your sessions to twice a week so we can discuss this,” he said. “Would you be okay with that?”

You nodded again.

Just like the day before, he saw you out of his office. You were shaking and still trying to wrap your head around everything.

“Before you go,” he said, pulling your attention back to him. “Was there anything else in this fantasy version of our lives about me that you saw?”

You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely curious in an amused way, or if he was trying to get something out of you. You tried not to let your face give anything away as you shook your head.

“No. Just that you were Will’s therapist at one point, and then you and Alana started dating. That’s...that’s all I remember.”

There was a skeptical look on his face, one that made your skin crawl.

He nodded. “Just wanted to make sure there was nothing that should be discussed prior to our next session.”

As he closed the door, you felt yourself dreading that next session.

#hannibal #hannibal imagine #hannibal nbc #hannibal netflix #netflix #nbc #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic

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rogertaylorshbb · 1 year

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"its a kind of magic" Roger Taylor fanfic

This wonderful fanfic idea was requested by @missbohemianqueen [sorry if it seems rushed or if there is any mistakes!]

So far the whole month has been a range of excitement for you. Just last week you and Roger had gotten engaged, him proposing in a fancy restaurant, and just after that you got offered a new job position.

Everything seemed to be perfect but one thing, you and Roger seemed to have no alone time. He would be recording queens albums, doing music videos and you would be at work.

You sat in your office swirling around in your wheely chair with a pen dangling in your mouth. “Hello ms.y/l/n” your boss's voice bombed suddenly

You jumped a little and quickly straightened up your posture,taking the pen out of your mouth and rolling to move to your desk which you were far away from.

“How may I help you?” you said trying to sound as professional as possible. Your boss rolled his eyes “you're allowed to leave early today” he stated. Your eyebrows furrowed and you got worried “your- your cutting my hours?”.

“No” he tutted “there's an event, im sending everyone home early”. You sighed in relief nodding your head.

You walked out of your work building holding your bag while your white heels made a loud and sharp click clack sound along the street.

You walked over to your car rummaging for your keys. Normally you leave work at 5 and it was only 1.

You scratched the top of your head wondering what to do, that's when the perfect idea popped into your head.

"Why not go over to the music video queen is recording”. You smiled and started your car.

You walked out of your car into the filming studio. As straight as you walked in you saw a bunch of people. Some holding cameras, doing lighting, doing makeup, setting tables up, really just a bunch of stressed people running around.

You stood there confused since no one looked familiar. As you started to turn on your heel trying to find someone you did know a random guy started walking up to you waving from far away.

The random guy was wearing a newsboy hat, a long coat, and looked dirty. You didn't get a good look at him and instantly started to power walk away awkwardly putting your head down. He caught up to you, placing his hand on your shoulder. You turned around, whipping your shoulder out of his hand “hello?” you asked, but your confused face slipped away and turned into a smile. It was roger.

“It's just me,” he laughed. “Oh- i didn't even recognize you” you mumbled embarrassingly.

“Why are you- dressed- like…that” you cocked your head to the side looking him up and down.

“I'm playing a homeless person….what? You don't like it?” he grinned. You shook your head “they put dust all over your face!”. “It's not permanent,” Roger laughed assuredly.

You followed Roger to a table behind the filming crew that was full of drinks and food. Deacy and brian were there picking at the food, and Freddie was chugging water. “y/ns here!” Roger called out. “Oh what a nice surprise!” Freddie cheered, coming over to hug you.

You hugged him back and chuckled. You saw brian and deacy come up to you too, “hello y/n” deacy smiled with food still in his mouth, and brian gave you a small hug “did you get off of work early” he questioned. You nodded “there was an event.

“AY ENOUGH CHIT CHAT” the director called out “BRIAN AND JOHN CMON” the director waved his hands to signal John and brian over. They both rolled their eyes finishing off their drinks before shuffling away. “Well, I should be off now,” Freddie huffed. “Noooo stay” you frowned. “y/n as much as I wish, I don't have any scenes left and frankly my throat hurts like a bitch, I should get some rest- I'll be back later and we can all get some drinks' ' ' he smiled, hugging you goodbye.

After, Roger grabbed your wrist slightly signalling you to follow him. You walked behind him as he led you into the room with all the props. “You guys have a lot of props” you chuckled looking around.

“Shh, we aren't allowed to be back here” he whispered with a smirk. “Then why are we here-” you whispered before you were cut off by roger jumping back hiding behind a wall.

You both laughed trying to hide away from the crew. “Ok coast is clear '' you said peeking behind the wall.

You both ran into a corner with furniture props. You propped yourself on top of a desk and Roger hummed, sliding his hands to your waist. As his smug face got closer to yours He started to kiss you slowly as you flicked off his hat so your hands could grab at his hair.

The kiss got more passionate and aggressive as he started to unbutton your shirt. “Wait” you laughed, pulling back. “Won't they hear?”. “Not if you can control your moaning” he teased leaning back into the kiss.

He eventually got your t-shirt off by throwing it to the side, unclipping your bra in the process. Roger let his hands roam your upper body as he laid small kisses along your collarbone. You wrapped your hands around his back trying to get closer before you frustratingly threw his coat off him. You hurryingly slid your skirt and underwear off making roger grin with satisfaction as he pulled his pants down to his ankles. He wrapped his hand around your stomach roughly pulling you closer to him.

He gently let his fingertips feel your clit before he lined himself up to fuck you. “You okay?” he questioned seeing the worried look on your face. “Yea, just- what if we get caught” you sighed. “Would you like to stop?” he looked at you with his sincere blue eyes. You shook your head reassuring him.

He slowly began to enter you, you bit hard down on your lower lip trying to be quiet. Once he thrusted into you, you gasped loudly putting a hand over your mouth. Roger rubbed his hand on the side of your waist “shh, don't want anyone to hear you” he whispered. You nodded as he thrusted into you again this time harder. Your whole body is filled with chivers and an intense feeling to scream his name. “Fuck roger, this- fuck” you moaned as quiet as you could.

“I know, I know, just try to be as quiet as you can” he cooed, running his fingers through your hair.

Everytime he thrusted in you making you lose sense of reality all you could do was grasp his skin and pull at his hair.

As you breathed heavily into his neck you felt your body getting closer and closer to reaching your orgasm. “Keep- going” your shaking voice trembled. He went faster and faster, his hands pulling you closer to him, you tugged at his hair as you gasped from your release.

“Fuck- y/n- jesus” Roger groaned quietly following his release. You both stayed close to each other, trying to regain your strength.

“I love you,” Roger whispered, placing hair behind your ear. You looked into his eyes seeing his toothy smile. “I love you too”.

@knxfesup @sarcastic-sourwolf @missbohemianqueen

#roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fan fic #x reader #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #brian may queen #queen smut #smutty #fanfic queen #queen fandom #queen band #roger taylor fluff #fanfic

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gogobootz1 · 2 years

Text

You Only Live Twice Ch. 5

Eddie Munson x Reader (eventually)

The gang finds a phone booth.

Warnings: cursing

0.9k words

previous chapter next chapter

You were on the road for a while before a phone booth came into view. In an instant, the encouragement for Argyle to drive faster shifted to shouts for him to slow the hell down. He snapped back at the boys and pulled off the road, speeding towards the phone booth.

“Argyle,” you shouted, concerned about how he had yet to break. In the back of your mind you considered that letting him drive under the influence probably wasn’t the greatest idea. Luckily he screeched to a halt before he could destroy what you’d been searching half an hour for.

“Christ,” Mike huffed as the car jolted.

Soon enough the boys were falling over themselves to get out of the car. You unbuckled and quickly followed after them. Mike had made it there first, Jonathan and Will right behind him.

“Fuck,” he cursed and turned around, looking right at you. “We need a quarter.”

You were clearly the most prepared person in the group, since the boys were chased out of their house by gunfire and Argyle was, well, Argyle. You raced to grab your purse and went digging for a coin. After a few seconds, you just grabbed your whole wallet and jogged over to the phone booth. Finally you produced a coin and handed it to Mike between Will and Jonathan’s shoulders. He slammed it into the machine and Will started reading out the number.

“202-968-6161,” he said as Mike punched in the numbers. The line started ringing. You all waited with bated breath.

“Is it ringing?” Jonathan asked, hoping for confirmation.

“No,” Mike replied, sounding confused and frustrated. “No, it’s just making a bunch of weird noises.”

“Busy?” Will tried.

“Listen to this,” he said simply. Mike held the phone up to Will’s ear. “Does that remind you of anything?”

“WarGames.” Will replied.

“I’m sorry, what-games?” You asked, suddenly fearful of the Cold War turning hot.

“It’s a movie,” Mike explains, “it’s about some kids who hack into a-”

“A computer,” Will cuts him off. “Oh my God, we’re not calling a phone.”

“We’re calling a computer,” Jonathan confirms, having heard the noise for himself.

“So… how do we talk to it?” You ask after a moment. The boys give you strange looks. “Okay don’t look at me like that, I never attended school, remember?”

“Sorry,” Mike said, “but we can’t exactly talk to it.” He started walking to the van. Going into the front seat, he pulled out the map from where you’d put it in the glove box. Mike started heading towards the back of the van, “I don’t know if Nina’s a computer like Joshua-”

“Joshua?” You quietly asked Will.

“From the movie,” he whispered back.

“or Owen’s lab,” Mike continued throughout your side conversation, “but Unknown Hero Agent Man, he gave us access to it for a reason.” He popped the trunk. “We just need to find the computer,” Mike spread the map out in the flat space of the trunk as he looked at you all. “We find Owens, then we warn him. Then we warn Eleven.” He turned back towards the map. “I just need a hacker,” he said. “The only hacker that I know,” Mike spun the map, “lives in Utah.” He pointed to the spot on the map, and you shook your head. You were already so far from home. But you reminded yourself of Eleven’s predicament, and how you’d decided you’d do anything you could to help.

“Wait, Utah?” Jonathan asked, clearly he had some reservations about this plan too.

“Salt Lake City, to be specific,” Mike replied.

“Oh my God,” Will said, realizing just who Mike was talking about. “Oh my god.”

“What,” Jonathan was as confused as you were, “why ‘oh my God’ ?” Suddenly Will broke into song. Your eyes grew about ten sizes wider.

“Does he do this often,” you leaned over and whispered to Mike. He shakes his head in return. Jonathan expressed his chagrin for the song, but Argyle seemed excited.

“NeverEnding Story,” he said, “that scared the shit outta me.” He nodded a few times as he reminisced on the film. “The Nothing, man?” He pointed at Will, “That’s some proper existential shit right there, dude.” Argyle whirled his yo-yo.

“You can’t be serious,” Jonathan turned to Mike.

“Well if we take the I-15 North, we’ll get there by morning.” He said determinedly.

“Oh you’re being serious,” Jonathan replied.

“I know it sounds insane, but Suzie saved the world last year. Maybe she can save it again,” Mike said hopefully.

“And how do we know this… Suzie?” You asked.

“She’s Dustin’s girlfriend.” Will replied.

“Oh, curly headed Dustin?” You asked him. “The one without teeth?”

“No, no, he has teeth now. They grew in, like, two years ago.” Will corrected.

“Good for him.” You replied.

“Guys!” Mike interrupted, catching both of your attentions. “Can we do this?” He looked at each of you.

“If it helps Eleven,” you started, “I’m in.”

Jonathan sighed and shook his head, “fine,” he said.

“Let’s do it,” Will nodded.

“Road-trip!” Argyle bellowed enthusiastically as he made his way to the driver’s seat. The rest of you piled in, and Mike began to give Argyle directions to Salt Lake City.

—————

Taglist (open): @fangirling-4-ever

#stranger things four #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #will byers #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #eleven

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peytouo · 1 year

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Mundis (Ch. 4)

Tighnari's body is terribly heavy like he's been frozen for a good month. He tried to open his eyelids and the light stings. "Nn." Ow. Bruised ribs. "Nari? Are you awake? Hold on, I'll call the doctors." A figure quickly stood and pressed something from above his bed. Am I in Bimarstan? No. It's too cold and quiet. Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3

The night just passed and unlike yesterday, Tighnari felt less groggy and a bit more responsive. Am I in bed? What's that beeping sound?

His body is terribly heavy like he's been frozen for a good month. He tried to open his eyelids and the light stings. "Nn." Ow. Bruised ribs. "Nari? Are you awake? Hold on, I'll call the doctors." A figure quickly stood and pressed something from above his bed. Am I in Bimarstan? No. It's too cold and quiet.

"Cy..." Tighnari tried to reach out for him. "I'm here. You're fine." The figure turned out to be Cyno wearing a thick coat and a shirt. We're not in Sumeru. He thought because Cyno is weirdly fully clothed. Sure he wears a big poncho whenever he travels far but, fully clothed from torso to toe.

Several people in white come into the room and Tighnari tries to understand whatever they're talking about but his head is spinning. A woman in white walked to his bedside to check the pole beside his bed. Tighnari's half-open eyes followed her and noticed the pole was holding a bag of liquid and tubes to-- what in the archons is this?

As much as he wanted to move, his body forbade him. It's too heavy and everything is numb. His eyes then turned to the other people in white who were still talking to Cyno and it wasn't long before they left the room and Cyno came to his bedside, gently taking his hand and kissed his knuckles. "Don't move so much now. You're okay. I'm here." Tears were streaming down his cheek. "I am so sorry Nari. This wouldn't have happened if I just handled the situation calmly."

Tighnari lifted his finger to wipe a tear. Why is he crying? I'm sure the wild cats won't be driven off if he calmly asked them to go away. He tried to speak but his throat is too dry that it hurts even if he just moans.

Still, he tried. "What... happened..."

"Car crash. I already apprehended the driver who did it. Jail time doesn't fully do him justice for what he did." Cyno bit his lip hard. "Car?" Tighnari can only mutter a few words. "It's kinda irreparable, but it's okay. I'll get you a new one. It's my fault." Cyno looked apologetic about it, but what's a car? Tighnari slowly shook his head.

"We'll talk about that some other time. You have to rest for now. I'm glad you're finally awake." Cyno pressed his hand on his cheek as he lay his head by his bedside.

----

"The Lesser Lord has found a way to bring you back." Cyno announced the news over breakfast. Tighnari just finished his meal of what appears to look like a granola bar, but it tastes like mushrooms. "Great! When do we go?"

"It should be done at night. Both of you should be asleep for the process to work." Cyno responded as he took a sip of coffee. Collei was about to take a bite but an idea popped in her mind. "OH! We can take you somewhere for a quick trip. Maybe a little something special before you go?" She was getting too excited for this. "Why not? All the walking could knock me out early and that means I'll be back in my body early." Tighnari shrugged at the idea. "Your body should also be asleep. That's why it had to be at night." Cyno sounded like a killjoy to which Collei pouted, not knowing Cyno took notice of it.

"But a trip would be fine. I'll be with you to make sure it's safe." He coughed and Collei's frown immediately turned into a smile. "Yes!" She cheered, "We can take you to Sumeru City or go to Apam Woods with giant trees! Or we can watch the theater perform, but I'm not sure if they a performance today." Her list sounds full and Tighnari chuckled. "Sounds like a plan!" Tighnari smiled at Collei who is too excited for this.

Cyno didn't have a say in it so they quickly finished breakfast and cleaned before they went to their huts to prepare. As this was Tighnari's last day on Teyvat, he neatly placed back the books he read and, "I haven't met you in person, but you did an absolute job with the place. The rangers included." He whispered into thin air, hoping that some magic would deliver his message to the real Tighnari of this world.

"Master? You ready?" Collei peeped in by the door. "Yep!" Tighnari checked if everything's in place. He figured his other self likes it neat and clean, just like him. He joined Collei soon after and they met with Cyno right at the edge of Gandharva Ville. "Let's head to Apam Woods. I have a little business I need to check in Caravan Ribat as well." Tighnari and Collei gave him a nod. Tighnari took a last glance at the beautiful community his other self took care of and they went off.

"Don't you have cars here? Or buses? Damn it's hot and humid out here." Tighnari huffed as he rested on a bench. The three of them just reached VImara Village to cross and reach Apam Woods. "I always wondered why Cyno dressed less," he wiped his sweat, "now I know why." He let out a groan.

"Stay here. I'll be back." Cyno stepped out for a moment and went to a villager's house. Possibly the village chief. "I remember Master wasn't always fond of the heat." Collei handed him a canteen full of water. Tighnari accepted and was refreshed after drinking. "Figured. My fur is too dark and dark colors don't do well with heat. He also has a lot of garments." He fixes his sash and re-arranged the flower pinned near his shoulder.

They took a break at Vimara Village to have lunch. Collei prepared her well-renowned pita pockets for their lunch. In the middle of their meal, Cyno returned now wearing a flowy poncho with a hoodie similar to his usual helmet. "You're gonna wear that in this heat?" Tighnari sounded like he's the one wearing it. "Being the general mahamatra could give us unwanted attention. Ready to go?" He flapped his sleeves and Collei gave him a thumbs up and so they resumed their little adventure.

"It's magical." Tighnari was lost for words. Even magical isn't enough to describe the beauty of what's in front of him. "We're lucky it's not raining. Yet." Collei chuckled. "I've heard legends about the woods are being guarded by the Aranaras. "

"What's that?" Tighnari asked with his eyes still fixed on the view.

"Well, they're kinda like the children of the forest. Some kids told me that they've seen one. Although I haven't seen one myself." The girl sighed.

They then heard a loud scream of a man and a little figure that seems to be running towards them. " PLEASE! SPARE ME. IT WASN'T ME!" A big man was running for his life from out of the woods. "What happe-" Collei cut Tighnari off and went in front of him being defensive. "Treasure hoarder." She muttered enough for Tighnari to comprehend. "A what?"

"S-state your business!" Collei showed authority in front the man who's still panicky like he's seen a ghost. "A scholar! It was him! He paid us to spread the dust! Please! Spare me!" He continued to beg and Collei, still on her guard tried to analyze where his words are coming from. It wasn't long until Cyno appeared in the picture. He walked towards the cowering man. Tighnari was feeling a little uneasy like electricity was in the air. "You've spread toxic concoctions in Avidya Forest and now you'll start harming the woods."

The man quickly got up to his feet and swiftly apprehended Collei. Tighnari got pushed back unable to follow what exactly is happening. "COLLEI!" Cyno shouted. "Hah... So it's this game huh..." The man had his arm wrapped around Collei's neck and held a knife on the other. "NO!" Collei went hysterical as she struggled. "LET ME GO! DON'T TOUCH ME!" She continued to struggle and bit the man's arm which ripped giving her an escape.

"You.. little--" Cyno knocked him out in a second. Powder then scattered everywhere near the man's body. "That smells something like catnip." Tighnari dusted himself off and turned to Cyno who just casted his staff away.

"Hey," he slowly approached Collei who was on curled on her knees. "It's me." He spoke to her as gently as he can. "Everything's okay. You're okay." Collei let out a small sob. "I- I-"

"Shh. You don't have to tell me anything. We can stay here and rest until you're better. I'll be here." Cyno reassured her, showing the gentlest smile. Collei nodded, but didn't move from her position. Tighnari felt relieved that after the sudden situation, everything got cleared up. Until he heard a growl from behind him.

"MASTER!"

The rishboland tiger jumped at Tighnari who tried to shield himself with his arm. Cyno without a split second rushed over to Tighnari, hitting the tiger off from him. His right arms were bleeding from the tiger's claws. Tighnari managed to get up, adrenaline still doing its thing. "Can you move?" Cyno kept his eyes on the tiger. "Y-yeah." Tighnari winced from the sting ringing on his arm. "Is that creature a feline? If so," Tighnari took his sash and wrapped it around his bleeding arm, "it's the powder. That big man had a bag on him and some of it got on me."

"Catnip?" Cyno raised a brow as he glanced at Tighnari who's now on guard. "Yeah. Cats love it. They're addicted to it."

The Rishboland attack near Gandharva Ville.

Putting the pieces together, Cyno took a hold of things. "Collei, can you make it doze off?" He turned to take a quick glance at Collei who's now a bit more back to her senses. "Y-yes!" She got her bow out and aimed at the tiger that's preparing to attack. Infusing her arrow with dendro, Collei fired her shot, landing at the tiger's leg. The feline growled in pain as it fell on the ground. "Very good."

Collei sighed in relief and once the tiger started to doze off, the three of them fled straight to the Bimarstan in Sumeru City. Cyno had both Tighnari and Collei checked if they had suffered any other injuries and had them tend Tighnari's arm.

Tighnari felt eyes on him alot as if they're gossiping about him.

"The lead forest watcher is here?" "I heard something happened back in Gandharva Ville." "Shh. The General Mahamatra's looking."

What's with the noise? Is 'Tighnari ' such a big name for them to gossip?

Collei approached him, bringing him back from his thoughts. "Is it getting a bit noisy for you? Master doesn't often go to Sumeru City because his ears would hurt from too much noise." She chuckled apologetically. "Ahaha. Yeah, it is getting a bit noisy in here." He grinned back at her. "It's almost night time. The city's a little bit more quiet now. Wanna take a stroll? You know, before you go back home." Her eyes were facing down.

"Of course! We only just rested and no way am I going to miss the main city before I go back." Tighnari felt that Collei was starting to feel down since their little adventure was about to end. They both got out of Bimarstan and Cyno was out of sight. "Where's Cyno?"

"He told me he went to the Sanctuary of Sur- Hmm... Surasthana?" She scratched her head. "He said he'll meet us near the Akademiya afterwards so you can meet the dendro archon." "Then I'll be able to go home." Tighnari muttered to himself.

Wait for me, Cyno.

Note: Heellooo. Apparently I can't squeeze everything into 1 chapter. Last chapter is rlly rlly the last. :'D

#genshin impact #cyno x tighnari #cynonari #cynari

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chaotic-kitty · 2 years

Note

idk if you've read monster manor in fictif but if you have I got a request: Casimir and Rainier when MC showing them how the internet works, like social media, websites, youtube videos, etc

I have read MM! It’s sooo good. That’s a really great idea and I’d love to! This is the first time I’ve written for them though, so it may not of fully captured their essence but, i did give it my best go. Enjoy & sorry if there is any mistakes.💕

Monster Manor: MC Teaches Rainier & Casimier About The Internet!

Warnings: none

Scenario: While on a break from renovating the house, the lovely sounds of an upbeat song starts playing; it’s the MC’s phone going off. Finally they get curious and ask the MC to explain phones and how they work/what they’re for.

As soon as you start explaining how the phone functions and what it’s for, he is all ears!

He asks as many questions as possible and is soooo taken with the concept of a phone.

When you mention the internet? He’s even more curious now!!

You show him how it works and about how you can search literally ANYTHING and learn all about random things!

You two spend heaps of time searching all manner of things, from food recipes, to the history of Earth.

He is so excited!

The entire time his wings and tail are just flapping and swishing about.

You may get hit in the face by either his tale or wings because of this.

He is so sorry though.

Eventually your deep dive into the internet leads to the mention of cats!

So with his curiosity and enthusiasm about cats, their was only one thing you could do~

You introduce him to the wonderful world of cat videos!

He is speechless and in love!

Spends hours watching videos, asking you to load more and more for him to watch.

Literally cries because he finds them sooo cute.🥺

Tries to convince you to let him have one.

Eventually you show him games…

He is amazed!

He particularly likes RPG’s! He loves the adventure and thrill!

He also is really taken with cute, anxiety reducing games.

It’s a great experience and the two of you have so much fun together.💕

He loves social media. He loves seeing all these different people talk abut their lives and share pictures.

He is in awe honestly.

He used to sneak into town to listen to peoples stories and adventures. And now because of this internet, he can experience the world!

From thrilling fictional adventures! To the mundane. He gets to see it all.

Please show him cameras!!!! It will make him sooo happy. He will literally take pictures of you and him, as well as Casimier, Mimi, and the house.

Bonus: When he learns about cats and wants to get one? That’s when you tell him about Mimi <3 After spending a while searching the house for her, you find her eating. He is in love with her. She actually lets him pat her✋🏻 They become fast friends. And the rest they say, is history!

When you start explaining to him about the internet, he is a little confused at first.

This is super advanced technology. Cars he understood more because there had been an equivalent in his time to compare it too.

But he is still very interested in learning about it.

He is quiet as he listens to you explain and show him how it works. He lets the information swirl around his head for a little bit.

When he does finally speak, he has an amazing grasp on the basics of how everything functions.

He enjoys looking at cooking blogs. Seeing all the different foods and recipes from around the world.

Definitely finds the concept of videos and movies weird but also intriguing.

After watching a random pop-up ad on one of the cooking blogs about an anime (not that sort🙄) you offer to show him Netflix.

He has heard you mention Netflix before but was too scared to ask what it was.

He is cautious, but he agrees.

Is very surprised! And taken with all the different movies and shows.

As a former noble man, he used to watch plays all the time. To see how far entertainment has come, he is amazed.

You show him Beauty and The Beast….

Both loves and hates Beauty and The Beast. Loves it because it reminds him of you two. Hates it because it romanticises the Beasts curse.

You also show him modern music!

He loves it!

Some things he doesn’t like, but some he does.

(I can see him being a Harry Styles fan….don’t know why.)

You two now regularly have cooking/baking sessions.

You spend time trying out all the different dishes on food blogs, as you listen to music and talk.

He will make pet friendly meals/treats for Mimi🥺

When you show him social media, he is surprised. He knew the world had gone on without him and had changed. But to actually see how much?

Witnessing all the ways technology, and the world in general, has advanced makes him really upset. But he is glad it’s you that is being able to help him experience the new world as much as he can from within the house.

He doesn’t really spend anytime on social media (not like Rainier) but he does like when you show him stuff, and tell him about the latest news.

Also finds out about cameras after Rainier all but tackles him so they can take a picture together. <3

He is a bit skeptical about cameras though. But like with most things, gives them a go.

He has a picture of you, him, Rainier, and Mimi framed in his room.

#fictif #fictif MM #fictif monster manor #fictif rainier #fictif Casimier #fictif fanfic #fanfic #anon ask #request

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spellcasterlight · 2 years

Note

I’m curious about the forest adventure romance and playing in the park wip.

Hi there @coyest! 😊

Why you shame me like this? (I kid, I kid) 😂

Warnings: None - under the cut simply for length!

Thanks for the ask! ✨

WIP Titles Game! 📓

Ao3 ✨ | WIP Game Always Open ✒️| Ko-Fi ☕

Forest Adventure Romance - [Kiba x Ino] [Shino x Tenten] [Shikamaru x Hinata]

Another just under 8K fic that's nowhere near ready for release! 😂

So! Ino gets bored doing homework (gonna set it the last year of secondary school, make them all seventeen/eighteen) and organises a Saturday hike in the forest park! 🏞

Of course different drama pops up throughout the trip! Akamaru nearly drowning and Ino jumping in to save him, Tenten fretting over Shino because he hasn't got into the habit of looking after his diabetes yet, Shino being content simply spending his birthday with his friends even if no ones remembers, Shikamaru's migraines and Hinata's photography is a plot point too!

I actually quite like the story idea and the pacing I have for it so far but alas! Only time will tell if I ever bother to finish it 😂

Here's the (unedited) first chapter!

Ino slammed her maths textbook down on her desk so she didn’t scream in frustration.

“I don’t understand any of this!”

She outright groaned and placed her cheek in her palm with a pout, staring longingly out the window.

Her father was out in the garden looking after the flowers, getting the last of the weeding done on a normal Thursday night just before the sun went down and Ino sighed; that’s where she wanted to be.

Outside; with the trees and the flowers and the fresh air and the living things.

An idea hit her.

Picking up her phone with speed she found the group chat she was looking for.

Ino: Anyone free for a Konoha Forest Park adventure on Saturday? I need out of the city! My soul needs a good forest hike!

Kiba: Now you’re talking! Me and Akamaru are in!

Ino took a second to grin at the handsome Inuzuka's instant reply.

Ino: Knew I could count on you!

Choji: Already got plans! Sorry guys! Have fun!

Tenten: Sounds fun! Count me in!

Hinata: Would it be okay if I joined you? I just got some new camera equipment and would love to try it out.

Ino laughed at the Hyuga girl's polite reply.

Ino: Of course Hinata! Everyone’s welcome!

Lee: Alas! I am working friends! Have many adventures for me instead!

Tenten: Shino! You free?

Ino grinned at Tenten’s message. If it wasn’t Shino making sure Tenten was included it was the other way around. Not that either were ever excluded but they just always seemed to watch out for each other like that. It was cute.

Sakura: We have a Biology test on Monday and I need to pass or else I’m in so much trouble! And besides I need to beat Shikamaru on this test! As a matter of pride!

Ino scoffed at Sakura’s reply; both about not going and thinking she could beat Shikamaru on a test.

Shikamaru, almost like he sensed he was mentioned, replied.

Shikamaru: You can try Pinkie, you can try.

Shino: I am free yes. I’d love to join.

Tenten: Yay Shino!

Kiba: Yes! Good boy Shino!

Ino counted in her head.

Ino: We need more than one car then! Tenten, are you on your mum’s insurance yet?

Tenten: I was just about to say! I am indeed! I think Shino, Kiba and Akamaru are closest to me! I can pick you guys up! Message me your addresses!

Kiba: Will do boss lady!

Shino: Address sent Tenten.

Tenten: Oh Kiba hahaha!

Tenten: It’ll take us about two hours to get there.

Tenten: I’ll pick you boys up at 11am!

Ino let out a low “yeaaaa” in excitement at her plan coming together nicely.

Ino: Tenten you rock! Shikamaru can pick up me and Hinata then!

Shikamaru: How did I get roped into this?

Ino rolled her eyes at her lifelong friend.

Ino: Because you can drive! And I know for a fact you’re free!

Shikamaru: Ugh fine. I’ll pick you guys up at 11am too.

Shikamaru: Hinata send me your address please.

Hinata: Yes! Of course! Thank you Shikamaru!

Ino: I’m so excited guys! I can’t wait!

Plan confirmed; Ino set her phone down with a single nod and a grin, her grin disappeared however when she remembered her maths homework she had all out abandoned.

So when her phone went off again she grabbed it happily, it was a private message from Kiba.

She opened it to see a, rather cute, picture of Kiba sticking his tongue out holding his adorable dog Akamaru.

Kiba: Akamaru can’t wait to see you on Saturday.

Ino let out a girlie happy sound as she scrunched up her eyes and grinned.

She quickly opened her own camera, snapped a picture of herself doing the peace sign and grinning; she sent the picture back before sending.

Ino: Tell Akamaru I can’t wait to see him either <3

Playing In The Park - [Shikamaru x Hinata] [Shino x Tenten]

Shikamaru, Shino, Tenten and Hinata are on a mission at a local amusement Park and as a thank you the owner gives them free tickets for the next day. After some convincing from the girls the boys give in and the story is about their hijinks at the park!

Water rides, fried food, Tenten scaring Shino with giant roller-coasters, Shikamaru attending to sick deer in the petting zoo, all four of them watching the fireworks at the end of the day! 🎇

This one has far less done to it, I'm far more likely to finish the other one first because I have more of the story fleshed out but I still like this wee idea 💡

Here's the rough notes first chapter!

I cannot thank you enough; if we didn't get rid of that pickpocketing ring we would have had to close for sure!

It was our pleasure Sir. Shino assured the manager of the park for the sixth time in the last hour. We will be heading out; first thing.

The manager looked confused. You will?

Now it was the Nara who looked confused. Is there other business in relation to this mission you need us to do?

We thought, hoped, that you would stay tomorrow and enjoy the park free of charge on us!

The man then took four plastic wrist bands out of his pocket.

Shino and Shikamaru exchanged a look silently agreeing they would rather stick senbon in their eyes for fun.

We wanted to express our gratitude so we wanted to give you four free day tickets to the entire park for tomorrow.

The Nara heard the girls behind him let out excited gasps.

Shikamaru began to shake his head. We are very sorry but we-

Yes!

Oh ye-yes please!

Tenten and Hinata were at the managers sides the next second.

We would lo-love to! Hinata spoke up. Does-does it include the petting zoo?

Of course! The manager assured happily handing the Hyuga the four purple wrist bands.

And all the roller-coasters? Tenten asked from the mans other side looking excited herself.

Every one! Including the Death Fall!

Tenten looked ecstatic

Well I will make sure to let the staff know and thank you once again!

The two girls waved the man down the hall before closing the door. Tenten started jumping up and down while Hinata excitedly swayed on the spot.

I'm going to go on the Death Fall until I throw up!

I can't wait to pet all those cute little baby animals.

Hinata grabbed Tenten's hands as they both continued to look ridiculously happy.

Can we watch the night time light s-show? And the closing fireworks? They always looked so pr-pretty!

Of course we can! Tenten beamed before gasping Can we get one of those giant jumbo candy floss things to eat while we watch?

Hinata beamed then. Ye-yes!

No.

Both girls turned to their mission leader.

The mission is over; we are going home.

Both girls jaws dropped. What?!

They were both suddenly in his personal space.

Oh come on Shika! Tenten yelled looking upset. When are we ever going to be back here? When do we get to do anything fun?! And for free too! Hinata held up the wristbands in proof of how free it was. Don't be such a bore!

P-please Shika? We-we really want to. Hinata then openly pouted.

Stop that. Stop pouting. I don't know if you learned it from Mirai or she learned it from you but I can't say no to it.

Then don't say no! Come with us!

It-it'll be so much fun Shika.

When Shikamaru didn't reply Tenten rounded on the other boy. Shino!

What; do you want me to do? He asked, almost sounding confused why he was addressed at all.

Tell him it'll be fun.

It won't be as fun unless it's the four of us!

Ugh what a drag fine fine. Shikamaru sighed deeply. But if we get in trouble with the Hokage this is falling squarely on your heads.

Tenten snorted loudly. Like Kakashi Sensei is going to care, he'll only be jealous he didn't get to come!

What a drag; today is going to be a long day.

Yes; I believe you maybe right.

Hurry up you two! If we're one of the first hundred to enter the park we get a free hat that looks like a ducks head!

Shikamaru sighed.

#kibaino #shinoten #shikahina #ino yanamaka #kiba inuzuka #shino aburame #tenten #shikamaru nara #hinata hyuga #wip #wip game #thanks for the ask!#asks are open!#♥ ♥ ♥

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tolbachik · 5 months

Note

Hi! Sorry for not sending an ask yesterday, I got caught up in school work, but luckily I’m all caught up now :D

I try to get as much sun as I can when I get the chance. Luckily the sun rises right before I have to walk into the building, so at least I get to watch that :]

Thank you so much for your kind words! Sometimes I can kinda lose sight of how far I’ve gotten since I first started learning. It’s kinda weird, but I can’t exactly put into words why I like Latin. Like, have you ever been drawn to something for no explicable reason? “It scratched an itch in my brain,” is the best way I can put it lol. It just sorta clicked haha

Also yeah, we use the Cambridge Latin Course :D The characters are always so memorable. My friend group was obsessed with Bregans and Grumio lol

I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who gets intimidated by the scale of things sometimes! Still, being able to see Andromeda through a telescope seems really cool! I’ve only used a telescope once or twice, but it’s a way different experience than seeing a picture of it. You realize just how real all of it is. Do you have any favorite things about astronomy? Favorite planets, galaxies, phenomena, anything really :D

I’m glad to hear you’re excited to check them out! I hope you like them. :D I always find it really comforting to see musicians helping each other, it’s sorta like a reminder that there’s good in the world, y’know? It probably sounds a little parasocial, but it just makes me happy to see them happy haha

Also, I’d love a copy of the extended release, if it isn’t too much hassle! I could also keep checking YouTube, it seems like things like that seem to just pop up and then go back down at random haha

I do a little art here and there. I can definitely relate to having a lot of ideas, but not the time or energy to create them haha. I do a little writing, but more research style stuff than narratives. I’m always rotating an idea for an essay around in my head, but I always drag my feet when it comes to actually writing it lol

By the synopsis of your novel, it sounds like something I’d really enjoy reading! I’ve always admired sci-fi writers, it takes a lot of creativity, skill, and knowledge to be able to craft a story like that! Once you finish the book I’d love to read it, if you’d be comfortable with that. What would you say is your favorite part of the writing process? I know some people prefer worldbuilding, while others enjoy crafting the narrative more. Do you prefer one over the other, or do you like something other than one of these two? :D

Sorry again for not sending yesterday’s message! I hope that you’re doing well, and that you have a great day/night! :]

- 🎲

Hello again, no worries! Both anons, please take all the time you need in between asks, ok? It's ok if you can't reply ASAP; I totally understand! Also, I hope your work went well for you! Aww, that's good at least! I know it can be so rough without it 😭 Of course, I'm so happy you found a passion like that and stuck with it! What do you think you'll do once you get through this next bit with it? Oh yeah, I absolutely get that. It's weird how the mind works, but hey; at least you're enjoying it! Those books were the best! I'd like to try to find ours again at some point, I loved learning more and being able to understand more of the story, it was always so exciting! Oh god, I almost forgot about Grumio, Bregans too! Me and my sister liked Quintus and Clemens (who we actually had a cat named after!), and haaaated Salvius from what I can remember lol It's all very hard to comprehend, and when you're forced to reckon with it, it can be so unpleasant! I agree, though; seeing stuff up close is really exciting, even if it is a little scary at first! It really does help you realize that everything is, well, real like you said. When I first saw Jupiter through my telescope, it really was so different from just seeing a picture! Also, personally? I really love Uranus and its moon system, Venus, Mercury, and Saturn and its moon system as well! I don't really like too much outside of our system aside from a few stars, mainly just because of the whole scale thing again lol. What about you?

Thank you again; I appreciate it! I've gotten into a bit of a musical rut, so between you and the other anon, I'll have a lot to get through! And I totally get that; it's nice to see other people happy! It's not an example of musicians working together, but one of my favorite musicians is a good example of seeing other people happy. In a lot of Norma Tanega's songs (like here), you can just hear her smiling as she sings, and that always makes me feel so happy too!

Of course, no hassle at all! I'll keep that in mind for after all this, then. I'll get it uploaded to my dropbox for you after all this!

Ooh, nice! What sort of essays do you like to write? Back when I was in school, I loved writing essays and doing all the research for them. Actually, what other sort of things are you interested in? I'd love to learn more about you! Aww, thank you for the kind words! Sorry again for not sharing much; it's something I'm incredibly passionate about, but worried about showing to the world yet. It's hard sometimes, y'know? And, y'know, I'm actually going to be looking at getting beta readers a few months from now! It'll be once I reach a decent spot, so I'd love to pay you to give some feedback! Ooh, my favorite part? That's tough! I think researching, as well as just letting it marinate in my mind. I don't like not writing, but in the times where I can't write much, it's really refreshing to just run over concepts and ideas I've had. Sometimes, I get big breakthroughs that way! Just recently I was struggling with how to tackle life at the extreme ends of the poles, but after doing a little research, I think I finally got a few leads. It's nice just letting things end up where they end up, y'know? Thank you again for the lovely ask, I really appreciate the time and energy you both put into these. I mean it; it makes my day! Please take care, take all the time you need, and have a great day tomorrow! Talk to you soon!

#my posts #asks #cube #🎲#srs23

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residentraccoon · 1 year

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Selectia Nationala opinions or whatever

(Under the cut, it's a long post)

Yeah, this national final is probably the weakest I've ever witnessed, and I've watched our selection since 2017. There's not a single one that I find myself constantly listening to or that makes me excited for us to grace yet another contest. And that's SAD. Even the official music videos are literally the contestants that sing it live in their rooms. It's incredibly embarrassing for a national broadcaster to release the songs in this manner. I surely hope that TVR just retires from EBU or some shit because I swear to god, they're parallel with everything that means eurovision at this point. We've went from Playing with fire and It's my life to...this.

Okay, I'm done with whining for now, let's review these wonderful 12 songs, shall we? If you feel that I sound way too critical, then yeah, I tend to be like this with Selectia Nationala songs lmao, and yeah, I'll talk trash strictly about the songs.

Andreea D & Folclor Orchestra - Perinița Mea

Yeah, it's pretty tacky and trash indeed, but you know what? So is my taste and I actually like this! Not absolutely head over heels but I seem to enjoy it. Kinda tries to immitate the success of Trenulețul (which fails because Trenulețul is the best hands down) mixed with Hora din Moldova.

To be honest, it needs a bit of a revamp to give it more power, but so far it sounds like a promising product. Remember, we are aiming to qualify, so the public in the semifinal needs to be impressed, and I feel that with a great staging and athmosphere this can make a pretty good impression (and possibly qualify but hey, we're talking about TVR and their interest in ESC so 😂)

Steven Roho & Gabriela & Formația Albatros - Lele

Ah yes, this is what happens when you mix Solovey and Ela together. I mean, I heard elements from both of the songs in this one. The instrumental is really pretty I must say, but I feel it sounds a bit dated, as if it was composed 10 years ago and got taken out of the storage, slapped some ethnic sounds on it and called it a day. Which isn't bad at all, it seems like the kind of song that the staging will help elevate its chances.

Theodor Andrei - D.G.T. (Off and On)

The kid has a nice timbre, however this sounds like the winner of an artsy high school talent show than the winner of eurovision. I don't know, I felt that this song doesn't have a flow or a certain direction, as if it keeps throwing metaphors and pretty expressions at me until it hits 3 minutes. Again, it's not a bad song, and I'm actually thankful it made the cut than to be subjected to another Underground by Vaida or even...oh boy...Dorel Giurgiu.

Adriana Moraru - Faralaes

I was trying SO hard to not click on another song during this one because ugh I have to listen to the whole thing to write this review, right?? Surely it might not be as bad for the whole 3 minu...okay I'm done. Sorry, this is a chore to listen to. At least the guitar sounds nice.

Aledaida - Bla Bla Bla

Thanks, I hate it :D It's definitely that genre of pop that I find physically unbearable. This one is basically a repackaged SloMo that's even more obnoxious and in-your-face and extremely desperate to pander to the televoters (especially the yas quwueen part of it, that seems to have a weakness for these). At least I hope she will perform well and not do a Roxen Cherry Red and stand still for 3 minutes straight. 😂

Like I said in a previous post I saw soooo many comments that worshipped it, worded with the usual yas queen slay dayum 🔥🔥🔥 I have no idea why everyone went completely gaga over this. It doesn't do anything to me, maybe a slight eye roll whenever someone mentions it, if that counts.

Maybe I'm too old and don't understand the hype for this genre. Or my taste is, to put it simply, shit. Anyway, the song itself is not for me and the hype makes me dislike it even more. Sorry.

Amia - Puppet

Sounds like a disaster bop to me and I slightly liked it? It's pretty cheerful and all over the place, but it has more personality than half of the songs from this selection. Hope this will sound good live, and if it does then congrats, it can place easily in the top 3 I guess. (In the selection of course lmao)

Andrada Popa - No time for me

Aw gee, this one really had potential. The instrumental is very very pretty but man, it just keeps on going and going with no climax or no key change or anything, it stays the same. Which is a shame because I was about to call it my favorite halfway through.

Deiona - Call on me

The typical sound of a duel song in an MGP heat that doesn't go through. Like it has that nordic soft pop sound I've heard before in MGP/Melfest from some semi-finalists, the resemblance is a bit uncanny. Probably it was written or composed by people from Sweden or Norway, hence the familiar sound from their respective NFs. Anyway, this was a cute song tbh, even if it sounds generic and felt that I've heard these kind of songs a million times now. I quite liked this.

JaxMan - Bad&Cool

The snippet felt too commercial but when I tried to listen to the full version I found myself at least bobbing my head to it. It's not bad, actually.

Maryliss - Hai vino

It's dated and drags on for 3 minutes and has the same key, same pacing, same everything. Next.

Andrei Duțu - Statues

The second it started I got hit by an Avicii-style mid 2010s sound. I actually enjoyed this quite a bit, but still I don't find it that outstanding to see it winning. But since Andrei is a former participant of X Factor and some people might recognize him, I feel that it might have a chance. Who knows.

Ocean Drive - Take you home

Sounds nice and summer-y and that's about it. A regular, by the numbers pop song I'd hear on a grocery store isle while deciding what kind of cheese I want to buy.

Done with this at last! Sometimes I wish I knew the rest of the submitted songs because no way in hell that these 12 were really the best out of those 80-something. It's like they chose the finalists with random.org and knowing TVR... yeah you get my point 👀

Sigh, well, what else can I say, I'm incredibly hyped for the final on 11th February haha 🤡

Nah, probably will watch it only to see the acts live and maaaybe to see if any of the songs will grow on me. Because my expectations for 2023 are just like my country's interest in ESC. Low.

My top for this absolutely stellar selection would be:

1. Perinita Mea

2. Puppet

3. Lele

4. No time for me

5. Call on me

6. Statues

7. D.G.T. (Off and On)

8. Bad&Cool

9. Take you home

10. Bla bla bla

11. Hai vino

12. Faralaes

#selectia nationala: there's always next year 🤡🤡#txt #eurovision

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twenty-orange-balloons · 3 years

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Oh my god, Deaf Wei Wuxian AU! Nobody knows it because he’s really good at reading lips and pretending not to be ‘listening’ until someone looks at him and has trained himself to speak (maybe Yanli helps him?) but Lan Wangji figures it out in the most ridiculous way and Wei Wuxian begs him not to tell anyone because he doesn’t want anyone to know and so Lan Wangji helps him with hiding his secret.

#maybe it happened in an accident after JFM took WWX in but he was to scared to tell anyone #or he was scared Madam Yu would kick him out #please someone write this #I would but I have major writers block rn ugh #lan zhan #lan wangji #wei wuxian #wei ying #the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao su zhi #sorry if I sound far too excited this idea just popped into my head

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haruhey · 3 years

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Mind If I Join You?

check out my masterlist!

buy me a coffee ¿?

Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙

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lazysimp · 3 years

Text

Innocence /// Virgin!Tamaki x Top!Male Reader (18+)

Click Here to read bottom!male reader

Click Here to read Fem reader

Request: Hello! Can I request a Top male reader* x Tamaki. It's his first time and he's very shy and reader takes advantage of it.

A/N: Of course anon, I love the idea of corrupting a sweet innocent Tamaki

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI explicit sexual content, virgin!Tamaki, dominate reader, submissive Tamaki, mild somnophilia/dubcon, tentacles, handjob, He/Him pronouns

Word count: 4k

masterlist┃AO3

Patience had never been a virtue of yours, so when a soft timid Tamaki beat around the bush asking you out on your first date you took the first step. And when he could not find the words to ask for a second you gladly volunteered them. Instead of growing annoyed or feeling emasculated your sweet boyfriend looked at you with gratitude every time you guided the relationship.

So, when it was finally time to take your relationship with him to the next level it was no surprise that you were the one to push it there. In the dimness of your shared bedroom, you laid still in bed listening to his breathing. During the day he would never let you stare at him like this, he would grow too flustered and hide his face.

You wish more than anything he could see himself how you see him. How he is the strongest person you know, choosing to push beyond his limits every day to save those around him, uncaring if it left him in a panic after. You had to bite your tongue every time he came home from work covered in blood and dirt. In your mind you know he can handle himself, but the idea that someone can look at Tamaki and still choose to hurt him baffled you.

You raise your hand to his face and brush your knuckle across his cheek. You wanted to be with him in every way, but you were so unsure he was ready. You know if you asked, he would say yes, he would never deny you. But he has never shown any sign that he wanted to take that next step.

So when a deep groan left his soft pink lips your ears perked up. Normally the only sounds he made while he slept were a few soft huffs as he shifted around. You sit up in bed, now watching his face intensely. Maybe your mind made up the sound, desperate for an excuse to jump on him. But to your delight, his mouth opened, and a single word left his lips, "Please."

This had to be too good to be true. Was your boyfriend having a sex dream? You needed to investigate. Carefully lifting the covers, you look down his slender body unit your eyes landed on his pants. You rub your eyes to clear them and make sure you were seeing things right and you were. A large bulge pushed the seam of his pants up, his erection barely contained in his underwear.

Instantly you felt heat flare-up in between your legs. You look up at his face and grow even hotter, his cheeks were dusted pink, and the tips of his pointed ears were bright red. His lips were slightly parted letting you catch a glimpse of his teeth as he let out another low groan, this one even more desperate than the last.

Without thinking you trail your hands down his chest, tracing the soft muscles until you landed on the elastic of his pants. You could feel the warmth he emitted and moved in closer until you lie parallel to him. The soft purple hair of his happy trial teased the tip of your fingers as you ever so carefully slip your hand under his pants.

You watch his face for any distress, but he held the same expression. Growing bolder you inch your hand further down until your fingers brushed against the head of his cock. You have to stop for a second, already overwhelmed at how far you have gone.

He was so warm and soft, his sweet olive smell filling your nose. You needed him so bad, needed to be close with him, touch him, love him. So you take a deep breath and wrap your hand around the head of his cock. You could feel his hot length pulse in your hand, just begging for your touch.

Needing to touch him more you place your lips by his delicate ears and whisper, "Tamaki, baby, wake up for me."

The man under you tensed and ever so slowly his eyes lazily opened, "Huh?"

You can't help but laugh at his dazed expression, he looked like a newborn fawn. "Baby, can you look down for me?"

His bright purple eyes looked at you with confusion but did what you told. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion before his gaze snapped to meet yours. "What?" he asks his eyes wide, "What are you doing?"

You keep your face neutral, not wanting to give away too much, "I could hear you begging in your sleep." You purr, "And when I looked down, I could not help but notice the tent in your pants."

His face grows impossibly redder, and he looks anywhere but your face. Not liking that you gently acquiesce your hand around his cock until his eyes snapped back to you.

"What were you dreaming about Tamaki?"

"N-nothing?"

You tsk your tongue, "That's not true, is it?" You lift the hand is his pants up, revealing his hard cock for both of you to see. You could hear his breath hitch as he was finally able to see what your hand was doing.

"Now why don't you tell me what you were really dreaming about?"

You could see his mouth open and close as he tried to form words. His purple eyes started to grow wide and wild. Needing to stop that train of thought you decided to try something else.

"How about I try to guess what your dream was about?"

His breathing slowed and he tiled his head, "What do you mean?"

"We will play a game of hot and cold. If I am doing something you saw in your dream you say hot and if I do something that was not in your dream you say cold."

He looks to the ceiling, "I've never played that game."

You softly smile, "That's ok, we can try it out and if you don't like it, I will stop."

"A-alright," he tightly swallows, "Let's try it."

You let out a squeak of joy and peck him on the cheek, "I am so proud of you!"

He gives you a wobbly smile, but you could see his eyes starting to dilate. He was getting excited.

You look down at your hand and take a deep breath. You know he has never done anything like this, so you had to make this perfect for him. Wrapping your hand around his cock, you gently slid it down until it rests on the base.

The soft hair surrounding his base ticked the back of your hand as you let it rest there for a second waiting to see what he says.

"Cold," he mumbled weakly.

You give him a rewarding squeeze and began to pump your hand, admiring how his foreskin traveled up to cover his glands. Everything about Tamaki was perfect and his cock was no exception. It was long, almost double the size of your hand. Instead of being perfectly straight, it bent off a little to the side. You could not wait to take advantage of that.

"Warmer," he said a little stronger.

"Good boy," you praise, starting to pump your hand a little faster.

A shiver traveled through his body at your words. You made a mental note to praise him more. As you gently pump your hand on his cock another idea popped into your mind. You slip his underwear down with your free hand giving you room to dip your hand lower until it settles on the tight skin in between his balls and hole.

You watch his face for any signs of distress as you gently press one finger at his entrance. You could feel him tense for a second but as you continued to stroke his cock his hole relaxed enough to allow one finger to slip inside.

"Bunny," he cried, "Warm."

You hum your approval, sinking your finger even deeper inside his tight hole while you pumped your hand, once, twice, three strokes. His hips started to lift in time with your hand, creating even more delicious friction.

"So good Bunny, don't stop!"

You press another finger inside him, giving him a few seconds to adjust before you spread open your finger, scissoring the digits. His hands desperately grip the sheets beside you, trying to find purchase as you stretch him open.

“Please Bunny I need,” he begged, unsure what he really needed. Needy cries filled your ears as you started to stroke him at a punishing pace, already feeling his cock pulse in your hand.

"Hot, hot, Bunny it's so hot." He cries, his hips rising to meet your hand. You deepen the thrusts of your fingers, pushing them up until you found a soft spongy spot inside him. His hips lurch up and a sob leaves his lips as you press on that spot inside him, keeping your hand moving on his dick.

You force yourself to keep steadily pumping, knowing the consistent pressure is what he needed to finally tip over the edge. And you were right, with his hands white knuckling the sheets he came with a silent cry, his face contorted in pleasure.

You watched mesmerized as he releases all over your hand and his stomach. You ease your grip on his cock, not wanting to overstimulate him too much, and instead weakly kept your wrist moving, letting him ride out his high. His chest rapidly fell up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You carefully pull your fingers out of his ass, watching carefully for any signs of discomfort. As he came back to reality, he looks down at you with a wobbly gaze, “I’m sorry.”

Your hand flies up to cradle his cheek, “What are you sorry for baby?”

He looked down at the mess on his stomach, “I came too early, I messed the game up.”

You take a second to try and find the right words and finally settle with, “We are just having fun Tamaki, there is no winning or losing.”

His hands lift to cover his face, “But I finished so fast, it’s humiliating.”

“Hey,” you coo, “It’s just me and I thought you cumming so quickly was hot.”

His hands lowered slightly so his eyes could look at you skeptically.

You laugh, “I am serious, the way you could not control yourself and cried out will be the fuel of my late-night fun for weeks.”

His hands fell from his face and the look in his eyes changed completely, “You think about me when you touch yourself?”

"Yeah baby. You are all I can think about when I touch myself. I think about how your cute little ears twitch when you are embarrassed, I think about how good you look in your hero uniform, and I especially think about the look on your face as you take down a villain. But do you want to know what gets me off every time?"

He nods eagerly, the embarrassment of finishing quickly long forgotten. You crook your finger at him urging him to lean in closer. When his pointy ear was inches from your mouth you whisper, "I think about how you would use your quirk to fill me up until you are the only thing I can feel."

He shoots back and looks at you with a mix of curiosity and horror, "You don't mean. . ."

You nod, "Yeah baby that is exactly what I mean."

His entire face grows bright red, "B-but that is so, so dirty."

"That is why it's so hot."

"What do you say we continue our little game but it will be my turn to say hot or cold?"

"Y-you want me to touch you like that?" He whispered the last word.

"Yeah baby, I want you to touch me like that."

He bites his bottom lip, "What if I mess it up or hurt you?"

"You have nothing to worry about baby, I will be in charge the entire time."

The worry on his face eased a little at your words but you could see he was still fiddling with his fingers.

"Why don't we start off slow?" You suggest, rubbing your hand along his bicep.

"You can put your hands anywhere on me and I will say hot the closer you get to where I want your hand to be."

"What if I touch you somewhere you don't want to be touched?"

"Impossible," you mumble, "There is nowhere I don't want your hands to be."

A high whine left his lips, the sound sending heat flashing through you. Oh, you wanted to ruin him, and you were pretty sure he would let you.

Not wasting any more time you wrap your hand around his wrist and lift it towards your chest, letting him get a feel for your skin. His breathing increased and his eyes grew wide as you dragged his hand up your chest until it rested near your collarbone.

"I am going to drop my hand, remember I will let you know where to touch me, all you have to do is follow my cues.

He nods, barely breathing as you drop your hand from his, leaving him free to explore. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, staring at his hand touching you. His soft cock was already filling again, ready to stand to attention as he carefully dragged his hand down the side of your arm. He looks to you for instructions.

"Cold," you mumble as his hands drift off to your hands. He nods, his fingertips sliding up your arms. Involuntary you could feel goosebumps follow the trail of his fingers. If he ever figured out how much power he held over you, you would be doomed.

His fingers trail up until his hand settles around your neck. "Warm," you groan pushing yourself closer into his hand.

With his first hand occupied his second slips under your shirt, sliding up the soft material until he revealed your chest to his view. You could hear his breathing stop completely as his gaze locked onto your soft peaks.

"Breath Tamaki," you order, "In and out, that's it." You watch his chest rise and fall slowly as if it took intense concentration to remember to breathe.

When his breathing grew steadier his hand reached out and slid up your stomach. "Warmer," you reach out to bunch the blankets in your hands, needing something to keep your hands busy.

His brows furrowed as his long cold finger circled around your areola, watching in amazement as your nipple bunched into a tight peak. "Warmer," you say, needing him to deepen his touch.

Thankfully he seemed to understand what you wanted as his fingers pinched the bud and rolled it. You could not stop the whine from leaving your throat as he flicked his finger against your nipple.

Growing bolder from your reaction Tamaki dipped his head until his mouth was only a breath away from your nipple. Again, his bright purple eyes look up at you for approval.

"Hot baby," you bring your hands to thread through his hair as his lips wrap around the swollen peak, sucking it into his wanting mouth. His cheeks hallow as he takes long drags, his tongue lashing the tender bud resting in his mouth.

Small mewls of approval leave your lips as the hand on your nipple pinches and pulls, a stark contrast from the soft teasing of his mouth. The difference in touch left you reeling, if you thought you were hard before, you were fucking steel now.

"Tamaki," you push his head in closer, wanting more, god you wanted so much more. He strengthens the suck on your nipple until you were sure he was going to leave a mark.

The hand on your nipple leaves and started to trail down the softness of your abdomen, caressing the skin. "Warmer," you moan, hoping they would go where you wanted. And he did, his fingers lift the elastic of your underwear and his palm resting on your length, waiting to be told what to do.

You reach over to the side of the bed and pull out a bottle of lube you had hidden away. You quickly squeeze a generous glob of the liquid onto the head of your cock, watching as it dripped down to Tamaki’s hand." It will make it easier later on,” you explain as he stares at the viscous liquid.

“Oh, ok,” he agrees, unsure what you meant but too excited to care.

One finger slides down your length, tracing a vein before he wrapped his hand around you. You both let out a groan of want as his hand slowly moves up.

The palm of his hand wet itself with your precum, making it easy for his hand to slid down the length of your cock before settling as your base. His other hand raised up to your mouth, you give it an inquisitive look but open your mouth anyways, allowing his dainty fingers to come inside. You swirl your tongue around the digits, wetting them with your spit before letting him pull away.

As his finger dips down toward your entrance you mumble, "Warmer."

He lets out a low groan, sucking harder on your nipple as his finger moves down until it settles on the outside of your hole. In the quiet of your room, you could hear the lewd sounds of his fingers breaching your entrance.

You let out a hiss, surprised he had forced you to take two fingers so quickly but the burn felt so good you let it slide. The fingers inside you twist down and press, you had a rough idea what he was trying to do. “Cold Tamaki.”

The fingers inside you twist around again, blinding looking for your sweet spot. After a few misses attempts you could feel him grow more agitated, his teeth now nibble on the tender bud of your nipple. "Patience baby, move your finger up, just like that, a little to the side- there!"

Your hips lurch up into his hand as his finger finally brushes across your prostate. Your hands in his hair tighten to a bruising hold but he didn't seem to mind, in fact, your reaction drove him even further.

His soft fingers hone in on the spongy tissue, rubbing it gently, a little too gently.

"Harder Tamaki, touch me a little harder."

And the good boy did as he was told. His middle finger pressed down with force, his fingers making a firm coaxing motion. You were feral, having him touch you like this was better than any fantasy your mind had made up to help you get off. There was no comparison to having the real thing.

While his mouth distracted you, the fingers in your ass grow longer and softer. You look down in confusion unsure what was going on only to see purple tentacles now fill you instead of his fingers. One large tentacle wrapped itself around the length of your cock, with one large sucker latching onto the tip of your cock, sucking on it like a mouth.

Your head falls back, too overwhelmed to watch anymore. You could already feel the tight grip you had on your control slipping away. Following the cues of your body, Tamaki used another tentacle to tease around your entrance. It circled around the tight hole, wetting itself in your pre-cum before carefully pushing inside along with the rest, stretching you impossibly wider.

He releases your nipple to watch his tentacles sink deeper inside you. The tightness of you around him would fuel his fantasy for years to come. He had always felt deeply for you but doing something like this with you made everything click into place. There was no one else in the world he would ever want to share this with and being with you for his first time was something he would never forget.

He made sure to move his tentacles up inside you, remembering something Mirio had told him a year earlier about how men’s g-spot is on their ass. It seemed his best friend was right. You bucked wildly into his hand, he could tell you were fighting to keep control of your movements, but he wanted to see you lose control, he wanted to see his Bunny become wild.

So when the sucker around your cock strengthened its pull you had to reach down and frantically pull it away before it tipped you over the edge. Tamaki instantly stops what he is doing and looks at you with eyes full of worry.

"You made me feel so good baby," you praise, pulling him in for a hug. “Too good, I was going to finish right then and there.”

"You really liked it? What I did with my quirk?" he asked weakly.

"Fuck Tamaki I don't think I will ever be able to get myself off without your help," you look down at him, "Nothing could compare to that."

A bright smile spreads across his face, "I am glad I made you feel that good bunny, but why did you make me stop?”

You look down at his body and smile.

His head tilts and he follows your eyes until it lands in his erection. His breath sputters as he tries to wave it away, “Wait, you don’t mean-“

“I want to cum inside you baby.”

“I, you, you want to- “

“Fuck you. Yeah baby I want to stretch that tight ass around my cock and fuck you until you can’t speak.”

His mouth opens but no sounds come out, for a second you worry you have finally pushed him too far but suddenly he snaps back into focus. “Yeah, bunny, I want to d-do that too.”

You give him a relieved smile and get to work. You quickly take off your underwear and have him swing his leg over your lap, positioning him to hover over your waist. You reach down and grab ahold of your throbbing cock still slick from earlier, lining it up with his hole.

With you already being prepared all you had to do was push down on his hips, urging him to sink lower, slowing impaling him with your length. You could feel the tightness of his hole as it resisted your entrance at first, not letting you move forward.

Soft mewls left his lips as he tried to relax and let you in but he could not do it on his own, “Shh baby, it is ok,” you coo, trying to get him to relax.

“I don’t think it is going to fit,” he whines, starting to lift himself up.

“It will work,” you mumble, and pull him in for a kiss. You explore his mouth with your tounge, distracting him until you could feel his hole begin to soften. Not wasting time you thrust your hips up, finally popping past the tight ring of muscle guarding his entrance.

A loud cry rips from his throat as you sink into his heat further, the head of your cock now settled inside him.

You force yourself to look up and meet his eyes and it was beautiful. He was an absolute wreck, already gasping for air and you were not even halfway in. His pupils were blown out, eyes barely focusing until you grab his hair and force him to look down.

“Watch baby,” you coo, “Watch me take you like this. No one but me will ever get to see you like this but me.”

He whimpers but complies, watching you sink in the last few inches. You lean forward and press your lips to his one again, wanting to be surrounded by him. Needing his taste on your tongue. At the same time, you start to lift your hips, admiring the feel of him slipping down onto your cock.

With each rotation of your hip, a new whine filled your mouth as he tried to stay in control. You broke the kiss and ordered, “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

He complied, his fingers digging into your skin and helping to increase the power of each thrust.

“Y-you are so perfect,” Tamaki panted as you rocked your hips forward in time with his. “I never want to be without you.”

“My baby,” you groan, “You are a natural, feel so good around me.”

His breath hitches, you could feel him growing closer, the hands on your shoulders weakening and the trusts becoming more desperate. Wanting to cum together you reach down and grab ahold of his pulsing cock.

“That’s it Tamaki,” you groan, “I want you to cum on my cock.”

Without needing to be told twice his hand came to life spurting three tentacles. The smaller two spread dipped low, gently cradling the weight of your balls with the third latched onto his cock, joining your hand to stroke himself with its slippery ribbed texture.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, your head falling forward to rest in the crook of his neck. You could feel his hole tightening around you, spasming as he grew closer, “Just like that Tamaki, please keep going just like that.”

And as always, he did as he was told. He lifted his hips, riding your cock at the same speed, driving you higher and higher, the tentacles on your balls gently squeezed mercilessly milking the pleasure from your body.

“Ah, god Tamaki, just like that,” you babble, unsure if the words were even able to be understood.

You could feel yourself slipping further away and needed to do something before you embarrassed yourself. You shifted up your hips, changing the angle of your thrusts. The next time your cock plunged inside of him, your length brushes against his prostate.

A beautiful look of shock crossed his face, there was no time to prepare himself before an explosion of pleasure suddenly blasted through him. He could not even cry out as he was swallowed whole by his release.

He convulsed in your arms, his mouth opens in a silent scream as his ass clenched around you, sending you spiraling too. In the middle of your haze, you could make out his hole clenching your cock as you fill him to the brim with your cum. His tentacle still toying with your taunt balls.

No longer able to support himself Tamaki collapses onto your chest, relying on you to stay upright. You wrap your arms around his wairs, pulling him in closer to your chest. He rests his cheek on your pec and you could hear his broken breath as he slowly recovers.

“Wow bunny,” Tamaki says breathlessly, “That was amazing!”

You kiss his sweaty neck weakly, “Yeah baby it was.” You look down to where your bodies were still joined and could already make out some of your cum starting to seep out of him.

“Bunny, I don’t think I can move.”

You laugh, “Oh good, because I don’t think I can either.”

He slouches down even more, “I think I will just lay here for a little bit; you feel so warm.”

You tighten your arm around his waist, holding him close, “Sounds good to me.”

#tamaki x reader #tamaki smut #tamaki x male reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki x y/n #mha smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #mha male reader #bnha male reader

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Happy Accidents

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,300 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Art, Neighbor Hotch, Shy and Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, It's soo sappy I'm sorry, Oral sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Aaron's new neighbor is out of his league for so many reasons: she's young, beautiful, artistic, unique, free-spirited, the kind of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. It's no wonder he ends up falling in love with her. *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! Against all of his better judgement, Aaron is kind of creeping on his new next door neighbor.

He is absolutely the type of man, any other time, to approach a woman he’s interested in and introduce himself, look for a way to connect, some common ground, but this is no ordinary woman.

She is out of his league in so many ways: young, beautiful, unique, free-spirited, the type of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. There’s not a chance in hell she would look twice at an old, stuffy, monotone suit with a seven year old son and perpetual bags under his eyes. That’s not him feeling bad about himself, it’s just the way the world works.

The first time he saw her, she was getting on the elevator while he was getting off of it, and they’d bumped into each other; she was wearing a short, flowy dress, and she’d smiled at him, apologized, eyes sparkling, smelling like she’d spent all day in the sunshine. It was the only time since Haley he’d ever entertained the idea of love at first sight.

She keeps to herself most of the time, gives off the air of being really cool and mysterious; their paths have crossed a few times since then—at the bank of mailboxes downstairs, in the hallway they share, once during a false alarm fire alarm—but he enjoys watching her paint more than anything.

They have balconies next to each other, and one night when he was tending to his herb garden—Jack enjoys watching the plants grow, and picking the herbs, Aaron likes to eat them—he spotted her standing on hers, facing away from him, in cut off jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot. She’d been painting the city, the sky, with the sunset glowing behind her like she was the work of art, and he actually felt an ache in his chest, the feeling of missing someone he’s never really met.

Since that night, he’s started taking his work outside in the evenings after Jack goes to bed, and sitting in near silence while she paints, hums—sometimes songs he knows, sometimes songs he doesn’t. The first time he goes out before she does, she says hello when she drags her easel out, so he starts to say hello to her when she beats him there, too, but that’s pretty much the extent of their interaction. One evening when Aaron and Jack are getting home from dinner, she is lugging a canvas bigger than she is through the hallway and Jack almost runs headfirst into it; when he looks up, he exclaims about how big it is, and pretty—it’s covered with colors, something abstract and cheerful, and even if he’d seen it on the side of the road, he would have just known that she painted it. (That may be a good indicator that he’s getting in a little too deep.)

“Wow, that’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen! And so many colors,” Jack says, awed. Aaron puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him out of her way; they’re already bothering her enough, when she’s clearly trying to get that giant thing home.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I carry bigger pieces around at my studio, believe it or not,” she says to him, poking her head around the side to look at him.

“You have a studio?” His eyes are wide with interest; his favorite subject has always been art, as evidenced by their refrigerator, which is covered in drawings. She offers him an even brighter smile.

“I do! It’s not far from here; it’s called Live in Color. There’s a big rainbow painted on the side.”

“That’s so cool; it must be awesome to have your own studio.” Aaron loves that Jack seems to be so passionate about this, but the way they are obviously holding her up has him feeling awkward; he tugs gently on Jack’s backpack.

“That is really cool, bud, but we should let her go. I’m sure that’s heavy.” She smiles, shrugs.

“It’s no trouble. Hey, actually, we have some children’s art classes at the studio, and you look like you’d fit right in with the Green group—ages 7-9?” She looks up at Aaron, who nods. “Maybe we can talk dad into bringing you down sometime. We do painting, drawing, and crafts, it’s really fun.” She’s still looking right at Aaron, gives him a little wink, and he swears to god he gets butterflies in his stomach.

He’s a grown man. A federal agent. With butterflies. It’s insane.

“Oh man, dad, please? Can I take classes at her studio pleeease?” Jack tugs on the sleeve of his suit, and he nods, smiles down at him.

“Yeah, absolutely, Jack. We’ll go down and get more information tomorrow?” he offers, to both placate him and finally free the poor girl from the conversation; he nods excitedly, and she smiles, looks sweet, genuinely happy Jack is so excited to take the class.

“Cool, I look forward to seeing you guys there. Actually, if you give me one sec, I can grab my card for you.” She passes them, carrying the canvas and looking effortless while she does it; she props it up against the wall to get her keys out, unlocks her door and heads in, pops back out with a business card in a vivid watercolor yellow. “It has the address and phone number for the studio on the front, and I put my cell on the back; I figured it couldn’t hurt, considering we live next door to each other. Now you know who to call if you ever have an art emergency.”

He takes the card from her fingers, flips it over just to see the handwritten name and number; he knew her script would be lovely, and it is, easy and flowing and natural. It suits her. He tries not to grin, or flush, or otherwise be awkward about the fact that she just gave him her phone number, however innocently.

“Thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” They turn to head for their apartment, and she clears her throat; he smiles a little, turns back, and she’s leaning casually up against the canvas with her arms crossed.

“You know my name now. What’s yours?” She’s just being polite, but he gets the goddamn butterflies again.

“Aaron.” She smiles, something beautiful and a little wild.

“Okay, Aaron. See you outside.” From then on, most of their free time, be it evenings or weekends, is spent at the studio. Aaron isn’t the only parent who sticks around—it’s an art class, not a daycare, he doesn’t feel right just dropping Jack off and leaving him there—and he’s also not the only parent, it seems, who is aware of his beautiful young neighbor.

“She’s incredible, right?” another dad says to him one evening, over by the coffee. Aaron looks him over briefly—it’s a job hazard, he sizes up everyone, but he already has a weird feeling about this guy. “I’ve been bringing my kid here for a month just to look at that little ass running around. My wife just thinks our daughter is just really into art.” He says it with a laugh, like that’s a ridiculous concept. Aaron feels himself start to boil.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful. She’s doing a great thing here, for the children; she’s not doing it for you to ogle her.” He feels a little hypocritical, because he is also looking, but not like this guy. He knows guys like this. He puts away guys like this.

He glances over at Aaron, looking a little taken aback that someone actually commented on his behavior, then rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t need you to defend her honor, buddy. She wouldn’t run around here in those overalls if she didn’t want us looking. It’s job security.” She’s wearing the overalls tonight, denim shorts with one of the straps unhooked, a t-shirt underneath, but it’s not as if she’s performing a striptease. She just looks like an artist, covered in drips of paint, smiling as she looks at the kids’ pictures over their shoulders. Aaron really, really hates this guy.

“In my experience, women usually dress for themselves; they probably have pockets, easier to keep things at hand that she may need, and it’s warm in here, so she’s likely dressing for comfort. She’s certainly not dressing for you.”

As if she can sense the tension, she looks over at them, flicks her eyes over Aaron, then the other guy, and walks over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Aaron, Jack really wanted you to see what he’s working on.” She reaches out a hand, wraps it around his wrist and guides him over to Jack’s table. “I figured I’d save you,” she says when they’re out of earshot. “That guy sucks. He’s always saying creepy things to me and Alaina.”

“You should ask him to leave if he makes you uncomfortable,” he says, looking down at her with worry. “I can do it.” She shrugs.

“I would, but his daughter really does enjoy the class, and it’s not fair to her that her dad’s disgusting. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” She squeezes his wrist lightly. “Thanks, though. Hey Jack, show dad your project.” He peers over his shoulder, and it’s a pink and orange skyline, much like the one he saw her painting that first time on the balcony. “I asked the kids to paint my favorite thing today, and that’s sunset.”

“I saw you painting this one night,” he says, and then he feels abruptly like an idiot. She just smiles at him though, nods.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for a beautiful sunset. It makes you feel like, just because the day ends, it doesn’t have to mean things are over; it’s just one of life’s beautiful natural transitions. And the colors are to die for: peach, coral, jasmine, rose, tiger’s eye.” He finds himself unexpectedly touched by her description, smiles softly to shake himself of the emotions.

“The way you see the world is extraordinary. To me it’s just kind of… orange.” She returns his expression, but softer, and squeezes his wrist again; he didn’t even realize she was still holding it.

“Sounds like you need some art in your heart. I give lessons for adults, too; you could even come over and paint with me on my balcony, some time. Special neighbor privileges.”

The thought of being with her on her balcony while she paints is almost overwhelming, which he finds funny, considering he currently sits no more than twenty feet away. There is an intimacy about it, while they both do their work in the cool, quiet breeze, but standing like this, close enough to touch, with the late day sun on her face while she talks about colors… he’s not sure he could handle it without falling in love.

She pats him on the back, moves on to another child, and he tells Jack what a great job he’s doing; his face is lit up, so happy, and regardless of the neighbor, he’s glad they stumbled upon this hobby.

When they pack up to leave, the jerk from earlier comes up to him, leans in to speak in a hushed voice. “You should have just told me you were fucking her. I would have backed off.” He blinks, but the guy and his daughter are walking out the door before he finds himself able to do more than that. About a week later, he goes over for that lesson almost by accident. Jack is at Jessica’s for the night at his request, and Aaron was planning to order takeout and have a paperwork cramming session, but when goes out onto the balcony, phone in hand to place an order, his neighbor is standing on hers like she’s waiting for him.

“Hey. I saw you don’t have Jack; I made some pasta with vodka sauce, if you’re hungry. I always prepare too much.” He sets his phone on the table, walks over to the railing to get a little closer.

“Uh. Sure. I have fresh basil growing here; trade?” She smiles, nods.

“Yeah, sounds delicious. I’ll be right back.” She ducks inside, returns a few moments later with two dishes of steaming, saucy pasta, sets one down on her table and gets right up against her railing, hands the other over to him across his. “That one’s for you,” she says, handing him an orange plate, and he sets it down, picks a few good looking leaves from his basil plant and tears them up, drops them on top. “And this one’s for me.” She reaches, holds a green plate over the gap between their porches, and he adds some basil to it before she pulls it back, takes a deep sniff. “God, it smells so good and fresh. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Thank you, it looks great.” He goes to sit at his table with it, but she scoots her chair closer to the railing, closer to his balcony, so he does the same. They make easy small talk while they eat, mostly about Jack, a little about her studio and his work.

“FBI, huh? I can definitely see that, with your suits, and your… neutrals.” She cringes when she says it, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t wear paint covered overalls to the office,” he teases, and she shoots him a playfully affronted look, grins.

“You love my paint covered overalls—and for the record, you’d look great in them. You should find a pair. Preferably not black.” He flushes a little at that, but she doesn’t notice, just finishes up her pasta with a sigh of contentment. “That was so good, thanks again for the basil.”

“You’re welcome; thanks for feeding me something other than the takeout I planned to have.” He stands up, gestures to his apartment. “I’ll wash the plate and then hand it back over.”

“Why don’t you just bring it over and come paint with me for a little while? If you want,” she tacks on, and for the first time she seems a little nervous. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I just think it would be fun.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it would be amazing to watch her paint up close and personal. He’s just also afraid he’ll pass the point of no return if he does it, and he can’t handle any more heartache. He only very recently got to a place where just waking up in the morning no longer causes him agony.

It’s the look on her face, though, soft and sweet and open, that makes his decision for him.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” She grins.

“I’ll unlock the door.”

She’s dragging out her easel when he walks through the door; her apartment is stark white walls with vibrant furniture, artwork, canvases propped up against every bare spot along the wall, paints and brushes and charcoal and pencils on every surface. It’s exactly what he would have expected, warm and lived-in and comforting, very unlike the mostly black and gray interior of his own apartment. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hey! Can you grab that tray of paint on your way out?” she asks, and he picks up what looks kind of like an ice cube tray filled with many different colors, carries it out to the balcony with him. She has a canvas propped up, a little larger than a computer monitor, and she’s gotten started, but he can’t tell what it’s going to be just yet. When he hands her the paint she looks down at it, peers around the edge of the canvas like she’s comparing something. He’s so intrigued, curious about the way her mind works, what she’s thinking.

“What are you painting?” he asks when she picks up a brush, sets it down, picks up another. She smiles at him.

“Well, we’re painting that.” She points to the street, where there’s a rusty, pale blue antique car parked—he says that loosely, because it looks broken down—in the alley. Aaron chuckles softly.

“We’re going to paint that? It’s a little… grim.”

“Yes. It’s part of a series I just decided to create: ‘Beauty in the Ordinary.’” She sighs, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are a little wet. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “You know Bob Ross, right? Everyone knows Bob Ross.” He nods.

“Yes; the guy who paints the happy trees on PBS.”

“Right. I used to watch him growing up, and I vividly remember something he said once, about needing both darkness and light in life and in painting. ‘You have to have a little sadness once in a while to know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.’” She sniffles, exhales softly. “I’m waiting on the good times too. Sometimes looking at things like this car, and forcing myself to find something beautiful in it, is the easiest way to get through the day. Does that make sense?” He swallows hard when she looks up at him, because aside from Jack, she has been the lightest part of his life since the first time they passed each other on the elevator.

“Yeah, it really does.” She shoots him a soft, slightly sadder smile, and then explains about the paints a little, shows him the difference in the brushes, lets him feel the weight of them, the textures of the bristles.

She starts painting the car—the background is mostly finished—and he’s more than happy to watch, to hear her talk about her process. She asks if she can use his forearm to mix paints, and he turns it over, wrist up, tries not to smile too hard when she puts some dark blue on him, then white, mixing them and then comparing them to the car on the street. He looks down at her, the concentration on her face, the softness in her eyes, and is met with the sudden desire to brush a line of paint over her nose and make her laugh and kiss her breathless.

“Okay, your turn,” she says when she’s about halfway done with the car. She puts her hands on the backs of his arms, pulls him in front of the canvas so she’s between him and the railing. “You’ve been watching me, so you know what to do.” He has been watching her, but not necessarily for her technique, so he’s a little nervous; he dips the brush in the blue paint but hesitates to make a stroke. “I have faith in you, Aaron. Here.”

She wraps her fingers around his hand, guides him toward the canvas, and together they make a wide, curved line, rounding out the bumper. It doesn’t look half bad.

“It gets easier once you understand the relationship between specific paint, specific brushes, and your hands,” she says softly, and she helps him paint another line. “Are you having fun? You look stressed,” she teases, and he makes it a point to relax his face.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” he says, looking down at her; they make eye contact for a long moment, and she leans a little closer, and he leans a little closer, and then he accidentally dabs a blob of blue onto the canvas. He pulls back, grimaces, deflates. “I made a mistake. You can’t erase paint, right?” She laughs softly, takes the brush from his hand.

“No, you can’t erase paint, but as Mr. Ross would say, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.’” She gets her fingers close to the tip of the brush, makes a few quick movements, then grabs another brush, dips it in green. When she pulls back, there is a little blue flower growing out of a patch of grass where his blob used to be. He exhales, a little amazed.

“If only the mistakes we make in life were that easy to fix,” he says, and she nods.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but a lot of the time we find a way to turn them into beautiful things eventually. Are you willing to give it another shot?” He says yes, and she guides his hand for a while, then just hovers near it, then just instructs him on what to do. It’s dark before their painting is finished, and she carries it inside to dry, then takes him to the kitchen sink to scrub the paint off of his arm.

“Thanks for having me over; I had a really good time,” he murmurs as she dries his clean skin. She looks up, smiles softly, nods her head.

“I had a really good time too. I’m glad you came over; you’re welcome to join me any time.”

He says goodbye, heads home, looks at his stack of work with a groan, and brews a pot of coffee. He’s in for a long night, but he wouldn’t change his evening for anything. Life is much the same for the next few weeks: school and work, Jack’s art class at the studio a couple times a week, painting on the balcony on the weekend, with and without Jack. When Jack joins them for the first time, she pulls out a big box of markers and thick sheets of paper and he draws elaborate scenes while they talk and paint together. When Aaron makes mistakes, she’s never upset, just turns them into perfect little details that end up being his favorite parts of the paintings.

“What ever happened with your ‘Beauty in the Ordinary’ series?” he asks one evening while they’re painting some ocean waves. “Did I cause you enough trouble with the car to give up?” She looks down at the ground, looks a little shy, then shakes her head and smiles.

“No, you didn’t make me want to give up. I’ve been working on it at the studio. You’ll see it when it’s all done, I plan to hang them there.”

“Looking forward to it,” he tells her, and then Jack tugs on her shorts, shows them the picture he drew of the ocean, too.

Later that week, the team takes a case, and on the day he’s set to come home, Jessica drops Jack off at the studio with the plan that Aaron will pick him up when his flight lands. Due to some weather between where the team is and home, they get a little delayed; he doesn’t want to make Jessica head back out that way almost immediately after dropping him off, but he’s not sure who else he could ask to pick Jack up. It’s almost a stupid length of time before it dawns on him to call the studio.

“Life in Color, this is Alaina.”

“Alaina, hi, this is Jack’s dad—” He has his whole spiel prepared, but she cuts him off.

“Oh, sure, hang on a sec, she’s right here. It’s Jack’s dad,” she says, but it sounds further away, like she’s trying to cover the receiver. After a moment, his neighbor picks up.

“Aaron, hi. Jack said you were working.”

“Yeah, I was, and I’m supposed to pick him up after class, but our flight was delayed.” He doesn’t know how to ask for help with Jack; even with all the time they’ve been spending together, she still makes him a little nervous. Luckily, he doesn’t have to figure that part out on his own.

“Hey, that’s no problem. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take him home with me. I’ll order pizza, we’ll draw, and you can just stop by when you’re home and pick him up.” He breathes a sigh of relief, runs a hand over the back of his head.

“That would be perfect. Thank you—I’ll owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Hanging out with your mini me is reward enough; he’s painting something special for you today, won’t let me see it.” That makes him smile, and he feels so warm at the prospect of picking him up from her bright apartment, seeing his artwork, her smile. After a long, draining day like this one, it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’ll have to remain in suspense until tonight, I guess. Can you let him know I said hi? And thank you, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.”

It’s late, after nine, by the time he makes it home. He doesn’t even take his bags inside, just drops them outside his door and knocks softly on hers. She answers with a smile, ushers him in, asks him if he’d like a drink and gets them each a beer.

Jack is in her room, asleep, so they have a little time to chat; she asks about his flight, his case, and he asks about the studio, and she gets a little shy when it comes to that topic, clears her throat.

“Um. I have Jack’s secret project, if you want to see it. He said I could show you.” He’s not sure why that would make her nervous—at least, until he sees it.

The background is all watercolors, a gradient of rainbow colors starting with pink at the top and ending with a soft purple at the bottom. Over that, in black marker, he’s drawn the three of them, with a big heart around them.

“Tonight’s theme was the thing that makes you the happiest, and he said he’s the happiest when the three of us are on the balcony together. It was… really, really sweet.” She looks up at him, brushes a hand over the crown of her head. “If I’m being honest, that’s when I’m the happiest, too.” He takes the picture from her hands, runs his fingers over it, and smiles, feeling a warm ache in his chest—not like before, not like losing someone he’s never really met, but like finding something he never really planned on.

“That’s when I’m the happiest, too,” he agrees, and when he looks up, she looks determined, like she does when trying to find just the right shade of paint. She takes Jack’s picture out of his hand, sets it on the counter, and then pulls him down by the lapels of his suit, kisses him long and slow. His hands move to her waist, keeping her close, and eventually she pauses for breath, looks at him again, and then wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him some more.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you—tall and dark and serious, striding out of the elevator. So intriguing, mysterious,” she breathes when they separate again. “I wanted to know everything about you.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, huffing a laugh. “I’m boring, but you are so vibrant, so full of life; I felt like you were everything I wasn’t, and I wanted to know you so badly.”

“You know me now; would you like to keep getting to know me?” It’s one of the easiest questions he’s ever been asked; he nods, and she beams, and he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the couch, drapes himself over her while she leans back against the cushions, pulling him closer.

They make out like neither of them have a care in the world—god, how long has it been since he’s made out with someone?—her fingers scraping through his hair, his hands on her bare waist when her shirt rides up, and she’s in the process of pushing his jacket off his shoulders when they hear a sound from the other room that startles them apart. Jack.

“I’ll go check on him,” Aaron says, and when he goes into her room Jack is still snuggled up on her bed sound asleep. It looks like some canvases fell over, though, and he stoops to pick them up, then spots the car they painted together. He turns and she’s right behind him, skids to a stop. “I thought you said these were at the studio?”

“They were,” she says, and she looks nervous again. “But I changed my mind about hanging them there. They felt too personal.” He runs his hand over the car and sees where she’s coming from; this one feels personal to him, too.

“Can I see the rest?” he asks. “Only if you want to show me them.”

“You’re the only one I want to show them to,” she says with a soft smile, and she grabs a few more canvases, carries them into the light of the living room. “Beauty in the ordinary, remember.” He remembers, could never forget.

She turns one over, and it’s a kitchen sink, and in the kitchen sink is an orange plate with a fork resting on it—like the plate she’d given him with the pasta on it. She turns one over and it’s a man’s hand, holding a paintbrush, with pale blue paint on his forearm. The next one is a little herb garden on a balcony; the next one is a view from above, of a sandy haired boy with markers all around him. The last one is an open elevator—ripe with possibilities.

When he looks up at her, she’s got tears in her eyes, and one slips down her cheek.

“So, I think I’ve found my good times.” She smiles through her tears, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses the salt from her lips. “I love you,” she says when he pulls back to wipe her face with his sleeve, and he kisses her softly, again and again, and tells her he loves her, too. The next weekend, Jack is at Jessica’s for a sleepover, and Aaron has been enlisted to help with an art project. He walks next door, knocks lightly, and enters the living room; he is met with a very deep, passionate kiss and a smile, and instructions to help move the furniture out of the way.

“I’m really curious what kind of art requires this much floor space,” he says, shoving her couch back against the wall, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, a move he has been unable to resist since she did it the first time they had sex. She knows it’s a weakness, exploits it, and he loves every minute of it.

“You’ll see, but I promise you’re going to like it.” When they clear the floor, she grabs a large, rolled-up fabric canvas and lays it out in the middle of the room, then drops three bottles of paint—one is yellow (jasmine), one is orange (peach), and one is kind of pink (coral? He’s still not sure.)—onto it. “You can obviously say no if you want, but I wanted something over my bed with the sunset colors, and I found this…” She steps closer to him, runs her hands down his chest, guides him down for a kiss so delicious he loses his train of thought. “It’s sex art; we put the paint on the canvas, and on ourselves, and… you know, go at it. What do you think?”

He thinks he really, really loves art now, even more than he thought possible.

“So we have paint-covered sex and then you just hang it on the wall? Like regular art?”

“Yep, I got the supplies I’ll need to hang it; letting it dry will probably take the longest. I figured we could shower while it’s drying, maybe go for round two, if you’re up for it.” She moves her hand to his waist, slips it inside his shorts, and he pulls her closer to his body. “Are you up for it, Aaron?”

That is an understatement.

Undressing happens extremely fast, because this is really sexy and they’re kind of in a phase where they can’t keep their hands off of each other anyway. She pulls her hair up onto the top of her head to try to minimize the amount of paint in it, and then she pours paint on the canvas, turns around and drizzles some on his back and tells him to lay down.

“I think we should probably change positions often so we get a lot of motion on the canvas; I apologize to your old knees in advance,” she teases, but she soothes the sting of her words by pouring paint on herself and then laying between his legs and licking at his dick. “Do some stuff with your hands; I want to see those big handprints on my wall,” she murmurs, and he groans, puts his palms down in the paint and drags them through it.

She leans up a little, sliding her knees through some yellow paint, sucks him fully, deeply into her mouth for couple of minutes, and then stretches forward and puts an orange hand right in the middle of his chest; the look in her eyes is playful, and he reaches out with one finger, hooks it under her chin, and guides her off and up so they can kiss.

“Your turn,” he says with a smirk, and then he gets her onto her back and ducks between her legs, hopes she doesn’t grab for his hair like she usually does. He rubs his pointed tongue over her clit, waits for the mmm it always elicits, and looks up at her, covers each of her breasts with a paint-covered palm and squeezes. “Leave handprints for me,” he leans up and reminds her, kissing her stomach, and she plants her hands, then presses up and grabs his shoulder, smearing pink down his back. “Oh, you wanted more of that?”

“Don’t tease me, the paint will dry,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs wider with his elbows and licks her pussy quickly, until she’s squirming against the canvas and panting for more. “Come here, come here.”

He’s not ready for that, though, paint or not, wants her to come from this; he takes his hands off of her, dips them in the paint again and presses down, then puts his hands under her ass and brings her closer so he can fuck her with his tongue, quick and deep and slick.

“Aaron, Aaron, god.” She slides her hands down his arms, over his neck, digs her nails in when she comes moaning like music.

While she catches her breath, so gorgeous, she sticks her arms out like she’s making a snow angel, and he catches her while she’s off guard and turns her onto her stomach, puts his hands on the smears of paint he’s already left on her ass, and slides inside.

“Oh my god; I was trying to impress you with this sexy art project, but you’re rocking my world.” She’s breathless, pressing back into his thrusts and painting with her entire body. God, he loves her mind.

“You know I always take your projects very seriously,” he says, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, and she groans, laughs.

“Yes you do. From the side? Let’s lay diagonally.” They shift, and he hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck and huffs hot against her hair. “Hmm, love it like this,” she sighs, and she reaches back to press her hand to his hip, holding him while he moves inside her. “I love you.”

“Love you. I want you to finish on top of me,” he instructs with a wet kiss to her throat, and she nods against his lips.

“Yeah, next; I’m getting close.” A few more strokes and she gets up onto her knees, lets him lay back, propped up on his arms, and climbs on top of him; she kisses him slow and dirty and then runs her hands over him, sits back on his dick and glides up and down. “You wanna come like this too? I owe you a little world rocking,” she says with a flick of her tongue over his bottom lip, and he nods, squeezes her thigh.

“It’s the least you can do after making me move all the heavy furniture.” She rolls her eyes but kisses his chin, down his throat, and bounces harder on him, all delicious eye contact and moans. “Mmm. Just like that, baby, come for me.”

“Fuck. I will, I will.” She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, kisses him kind of rough and with lots of tongue, and then tips her head back and climaxes, clenches, wrings his orgasm out of him so quickly it’s almost jarring. “Oh, yes Aaron. So good,” she mumbles, and then he lays back, out of breath, and she slides out of his lap and lays beside him, out of breath too.

After a moment, she looks over at him, smiles, and swipes a pink fingertip over his cheek.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I’m glad I got to do it with you.” He rolls on top of her, presses a kiss to her nose, and nods.

“Me too. You know,” he adds after a moment, “my bedroom could use some artwork, too.” She grins, wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“You’re right; I think we should do yours in blue: liberty, that’s dark blue; periwinkle, that’s light blue; maybe steel gray, too.”

“You’re the expert. I’m just your paintbrush.” Her hands smooth up his back, and contentment washes over him like a warm breeze.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Want to get cleaned up?”

Cleaning up is almost as fun as making the mess, because they’re well and truly covered, and when the canvas dries, the sunset colors are almost as beautiful as the ones she used the first time he ever saw her paint. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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fruggo · 3 years

Note

I’m not gonna lie this would be the first time I requested something so if I do something wrong I’m really sorry,

Can I request Quentin, Leon, Steve, and Frank meeting a female reader who, before the entity took her, had already faced off her own killer?

And this made her kinda tough? Like she knows what she’s doing

oh my gosh thank you so much!! this is my first ever request to fulfill so we’re in this together :DD seriously i really appreciate you!

i decided to do a headcanon kind of format for this, i hope that’s okay! also these are my absolute favorite boys aaahhh this is so fun for a first request

the boys x tough f!reader (part 1) (part 2)

warnings: swearing, reader kicks frank in the shins

word count: ~700-1k each (sorry if it’s too long…i kind of got really excited and uhhh maybe i got carried away,, yeah. sorry)

(also i'll be honest quentin's is not my best. that was the one that got eaten by the tumblr abyss and i had to write all over again, and it just didn't come out the same way that i wanted it to at first :( i did the other boys hoping i'd get some inspiration to fix it afterwards, but i got kind of stuck. so it's not my favorite, but i hope you like it okay! i want to write better stuff for quentin in the future, he is my favorite sleepy boy <3)

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇

when you arrived in the realm, everyone thought you would be the same as the others—frightened, confused, and overwhelmed. but you took this nightmarish challenge in stride, adapting to your surroundings quickly and learning far faster than anybody else had.

your past experiences had made you independent and sometimes distrustful, so once you had the gist of things, you didn’t need (or want) anybody to tell you what to do. and nobody was inclined to, either—your instincts naturally told you what to do and when.

the first time you met quentin was a little awkward, i wont lie. you were wary of speaking to the other survivors; you weren’t going to let yourself get hurt again.

it was the beginning of a trial. the nurse’s fatigued shrills could be heard all the way from the edge of the wrecker’s yard, but you immediately started work on a generator, unafraid. a few minutes passed, when soft footsteps indicated someone’s approach. it was quentin—he started to work on the wires without hesitation.

you were a little surprised, only because the other survivors usually left you to your own devices. you got the impression that maybe they were intimidated by you, which you didn’t particularly mind. but you wouldn’t particularly mind some company now and then, either.

it was comfortably silent for a while, before quentin spoke up.

“what’s your name?” he asked, gaze still focused on the wires.

hesitating a little, you told him. then you said, “and you’re quentin, right?” you already knew most everybody’s name just from observation.

“that i am,” he replied.

then it was quiet for a while.

very quiet.

well, what were you supposed to say now?

the silence was deafening and very, very uncomfortable to you. normally you were okay with a quiet atmosphere, but it was the kind of silence that buzzed in your ears, chewed at your stomach, filled the area as if it were something solid. man, what were you supposed to say—

it was then that you realized poor quentin had fallen asleep, his face smooshed onto the generator. his cheek was now covered in grease and grime.

it made you smile—only a little. you finished repairing the generator on your own, causing quentin to wake with a start and bang his head on the pole protruding from the machine. he swore like a sailor until he realized where he was, smiling sheepishly.

“sorry, i wanted you to have your nap. you looked really tired,” you said. you also couldn’t stop admiring the dark grease on his face—it was really quite funny. and no, you weren’t going to say anything about it. it could stay there a little longer.

you spent the rest of the trial running the nurse around the whole wrecker’s yard, only suffering one injury until the end. quentin had no idea how you had been here for such little time and already knew how to outplay the nurse, one of the most difficult killers to survive against. he still didn’t know how to do it well himself, so he was thankful for you.

however, once the exit gates were opened, you found yourself in a bad spot. the nurse had caught you in an empty clearing with nowhere to hide or predict her moves, and she downed you instantly. quentin cringed hearing your agonized scream as you were hooked.

there was no way you were dying on his watch. once he was sure the nurse was gone, he gently lifted you from the hook, pulling out his medical kit to begin patching up your shoulder.

despite the pain, you had enough energy to smile at him and say, “thanks, nap boy.”

quentin feigned offense with a wry grin, pulling out some gauze. “is that all i’m going to be to you? nap boy?”

you hummed, pretending to be deep in thought. “maybe you won’t be if you get me out of here.”

“that won’t be a problem," he smiled, quirking an eyebrow.

“show me the gates and then we’ll talk, nap boy.”

from then on, quentin became your go-to source for supplies and general comfort. you weren't scared of this place, but it was nice to know you had somebody who would really be there for you.

he would often fall asleep on your shoulder at the campfire--he really was a nap boy, and you would never let him live that down.

𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃𝐘

leon could not tear his eyes away from you the first time you arrived in the realm. your presence was strong; he could tell you weren’t one to back away from a fight.

most of the survivors had been (rightly) confused and disoriented when they popped into the realm, but you tried to accept it quickly. you didn’t like it, in fact all you wanted was just to go home, but you came to terms with it and jumped into trials headfirst like an insane person.

that was the courageous part about you—maybe you were scared, but you did scary shit anyways. in fact, you did scary shit to spite the fear, to prove to yourself that you were strong enough to overcome it.

and leon couldn’t lie, that was cool as hell.

you had tunnel vision and didn’t pay much notice to the other survivors; you were too focused on learning about this place and getting out of trials. having gone through some real shit, being here hardly came as a surprise to you. if you were going to be here forever, what was the point in mourning? might as well just accept it and try your hardest to survive. maybe someday this sick game would end, but for now, you were prepared to fight for your life and that’s all you could really focus on.

your first trial was not the best. even though you were resourceful, you didn’t know what the objective was yet, so you weren’t sure where to start other than analyzing your surroundings. luckily for you, leon kennedy was one of your teammates.

after being downed immediately by bubba’s chainsaw and tossed onto a hook, you were amazingly resilient to the pain. leon was the one to lift you from the hook, and he took out his medkit to help patch your wound, but you flinched away from him before he could touch you.

he was puzzled. “what’s wrong?” he asked. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he wanted to help you.

you hesitated and looked him over before mumbling, “i’m fine.” and you tried to stand on your own, beginning to limp away. you didn’t want or need anyone’s help.

leon sighed, following after you. “let me help, that must hurt a lot.”

“i told you, cop, i’m fine. i don’t want your help, okay?”

leon opened his mouth to insist, but decided against it. if you didn’t want his help, then he shouldn’t butt in. that wouldn’t keep him from watching over you, though.

but then leon called after you (perhaps a little smugly), “do you even know what you’re supposed to do?”

begrudgingly, you stopped walking. no, you didn’t know what to do. “i’ll figure it out,” you said over your shoulder. and you would; you had been through enough to survive any situation thrown at you.

but maybe one pointer couldn’t hurt.

“do a generator,” he told you, giving you a cheeky grin when you turned around to look at him. he was lucky he was cute.

the first part of the trial had been rough, but after that first hook you were doing a lot better. you managed to find your own medkit from a chest, and you learned how to fix a few generators. you found it came pretty naturally, and were satisfied that you hadn’t needed anyone’s help (except leon’s. but you didn’t have to admit that yet). when the killer came near, you skillfully avoided him and stayed hidden as much as you could.

you were also pretending that you didn't notice leon hovering near you. he was not very good at being subtle; he was obviously trying to make sure you didn't get hurt. it was cute. you didn't want to ruin his fun, so you didn't say anything about it.

it wasn’t long before the gates were powered and in the process of being opened. you saw a red glowing light in the distance, and assumed that must be your destination. you put all of your remaining energy into sprinting to the exit, adrenaline pumping through your body.

but then there was a heartbeat. a heartbeat so loud it filled your head, splitting your concentration. it wasn’t your own heartbeat--it was the killer’s.

the sound of the cannibal’s chainsaw roared in your ears and pain tore through your body; you collapsed to the ground with a cry of agony. shit, that really hurt, and you weren't sure you could ever get used to it. eternity sure seemed a lot longer than you had first anticipated. would you really be here forever? doing this over and over?

biting your lip until it bled, you tried to crawl towards the gate, dragging the lower half of your body with much difficulty. it was no use, though--you hardly got anywhere, and you could already feel the killer picking you up. just like that, you were going to die? you had been so close..

but as you were being placed on bubba’s shoulder, you saw a flash of a police uniform and a blinding light, and before you knew it, you had been dropped to the ground, the exit gate looking awfully lovely and much more desirable than a meat hook. you gathered all of your strength and began limping forward, when suddenly you felt an arm firmly wrap around your waist and your own was placed around someone else’s shoulder.

leon. when you looked up at him, all he did was give you a calm smile, which you felt inclined to return. with him supporting you, the two of you made it safely to the exit and began the long traipse back to the campfire, where you would find yourself spending a lot of time together.

from then on, you always remained quite unfazed by the events of the entity’s realm—the only thing that ever made you feel weak was being around leon. he was just so cute :]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍

you had never met someone so persistent in your life. from the moment the entity stole you here, steve harrington was after you, and there was next to nothing you could do about it. he sure was living up to his self-proclaimed role of babysitter.

you told him you were fine, that you didn’t need him following you around, but the asshole did it anyways.

“how cool do you think you are?” you asked him at some point, to which he simply shrugged with that stupid grin on his lips.

“i can take care of myself.” “i really don’t need you to baby me, steve.” “steve, if you don’t leave me alone i’m going to break your kneecaps.” these were all things that had come from your mouth multiple times recently. you were seriously thinking about that last one now.

you knew you could make it on your own, and you only wished he would give you a chance to prove that to him so he would leave you alone. but it was like he had attached himself to your hip, and for some reason the entity seemed to really enjoy putting you in trials with him. great.

he was a dumbass and a sweetheart, and you weren’t sure which one of those took higher priority. you knew he only meant well, but god, you wanted to be independent for once. why did he think he had to protect you so much? you arrived here after running for your fucking life, fighting off your long-time pursuer, and living in awful, ever-changing conditions. you had seen your closest friends die, right before your eyes. you didn’t need to be sheltered or coddled, but you couldn’t seem to make steve understand that, no matter how much you fought with him.

steve would literally throw himself in front of the killer for you. he clicked his flashlight in the killer’s face if they were after you, and he would swear and cuss until they chased him out of pure annoyance. it got him killed countless times, and you didn’t know whether to call him stupid or selfless. probably both.

eventually you decided to just copy him and see how it worked out. you weren’t scared, you had no reason to be. you wanted to show him you could be just as flashy as him.

as you arrived into a trial, steve right across from you (of course), you smiled to yourself. you had brought your best flashlight, and you were prepared to use it. the two of you began to work on a generator together, making light conversation as usual.

“if the killer comes here, hide. i’ll take him away.” “fuck you, steve harrington.” “sure, if you really want to.” “why don’t you ever leave me alone?” “it’s a mystery, isn’t it?” “i could punch you right now.” “but you won’t. i’m too good to look at.”

you know, the usual friendly stuff.

you purposefully connected the wrong wires, making the generator spark and sputter. “oops. oh no, the killer must be on their way,” you dead-panned. steve gave you an unamused look.

and indeed, only a few moments later, you heard the sound of the hillbilly and his chainsaw roaring in your direction. the two of you split up, and the killer’s weapon collided with the generator, making an awful screeching sound.

and that was when the chaos started.

steve began hollering and flicking his flashlight into the sky as usual, and after a moment’s hesitation, you did the same. steve looked at you in astonishment, pausing, but then he started again, even louder. you tried to outdo him.

“HEY BILLY! FUCK YOU!” you screamed, ignoring steve’s attempts to get you to stop. “COME AFTER ME, SHITHEAD!”

steve started actually yelling, just yelling, while you continued to swear meaninglessly. the poor hillbilly looked confused and overwhelmed, and eventually he couldn’t take the noise anymore--he just left, opting to find the other survivors while the two of you sorted out whatever it is you obviously had against each other.

it was dead silent now that the killer was gone, and you and steve were both out of breath. but as soon as you made eye contact, laughter bubbled up from your chest, causing you to collapse against the tree and slide to the ground. your voice was hoarse from all the screaming.

and then he was laughing too, stumbling over to plop down next to you, and your giggling started up a whole new round.

after the laughter died down, you stared at your hands, ignoring steve’s gaze on the side of your face until you couldn’t anymore.

“what?” you asked, finally looking at him. he was smiling all stupid again. “what?” you insisted, fighting off a grin of your own. you hated when he looked at you like that, because it made you want to smile back at him.

“nothing,” he said coyly, laughing again. you punched his shoulder playfully.

“c’mon harrington, when have you ever held your tongue before? spit it out.”

he nodded, that was true. so he said it. “i just like you, that’s all.”

oh. oh.

realization dawned upon your face. “is that why you always--”

“yes,” he interrupted you. “i thought it was obvious. man, you’re clueless sometimes.”

oh.

huh.

you guessed…maybe…steve harrington wasn’t that annoying. maybe.

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍

to say you were feisty was an understatement. frank hated your guts at first because you were so good at evading him, which he would never admit. but the thing that made him really mad was that if he ever downed you, you would kick at him and try to trip him over, like actually bruise his shins. it hurt like hell.

this lead to his decision to constantly tunnel you, and he would laugh at you while you were on the hook, too. so you hated his guts just as much as he did yours. it was a mutual guts-hating situation.

your teammates always felt bad for you, but they also thought you were a badass and knew you could handle yourself. you hadn’t told anybody where you’d come from or what had happened to you, but they knew it was something interesting. there was a reason that nothing that happened here really got to you.

sometimes things escalated even further than shin-kicking. there was one time where frank had managed to grab the back of your shirt as you tried to vault a window, and as he pulled you closer to himself, you elbowed him in the neck and squirmed out of his grasp. while he stood stunned and lost for breath, you kicked the back of his locked knee so that he fell to the ground and bonked his forehead on the wall—the classic dead leg.

this was very funny to you.

not to him.

while you ran away, laughing to yourself, frank’s anger built and built. he was tired of letting you make a fool of him, and it was time to be serious about things.

he ignored you for the rest of the trial, forming a plan in his mind. there was something he needed to do after this, so he made sure to kill everybody else to please the entity—he couldn’t get caught up, it would derail his anger train. he also didn’t feel like getting kicked in the balls or some shit, so he let you out without a problem.

frank did some brooding at the ormond lodge before he was ready to go through with his plan. and his shins really, really hurt, so susie helped him ice them before he left.

the masked killer made his way to the survivor camp rather hastily. when he arrived, he saw you pacing around, deep in thought.

so he threw a rock at you.

it was just a pebble, really. maybe it could be considered a rather large pebble, but frank insisted in his mind that it was a pebble.

“ow, what the fuck!” you cursed, rubbing your sore shoulder and looking around to find the culprit. and then your eyes laid on him.

he looked so sultry standing there at the edge of the woods, arms crossed and mask smiling, you could almost laugh at him. he acted so serious, when really, he was just an angry and misbehaving twink.

you put on your best serious face, genuinely trying not to be amused by this, and strode over to the killer.

“what do you want?” you asked confidently, mirroring his body language and crossing your arms.

frank bristled at your approach, as if trying to make himself look bigger. he wished you were scared of him like everyone else, it would really make him feel better.

“i want a truce,” he said.

you almost burst into laughter at that. a truce? what the fuck for?

he said was willing to stop tunneling and camping you if you stopped beating the shit out of him with your sticky little hands. he didn’t say it like that, but you knew that was what he meant. you, a survivor, could beat up frank, a killer, and it upset him and his little ego :(

just to humor him, you agreed. and frank nodded.

“but,” you continued, raising your eyebrows, “you have to give me something else.”

he started to say “no, no way—“ but you interrupted him: “you’re asking me to stop fighting for myself and just give in when you catch me. i think i deserve something other than just not being tunnelled.”

frank glared at you under his mask, thankful that you couldn’t see. “okay. whatever. what do you want?”

“i want to see your face.” you thought this was a good choice, something you could lord over him forever. it was surely only a win for you. his face was something private, and you would be the only survivor to know.

of course you wanted to see his face, frank thought. everyone did; they wanted to find out if he was good-looking. which, according to him, he was. if you ever asked the other members of the legion, susie was the only one to actually respond. she felt obligated to compliment him as she was basically his sister. so she would say frank is handsome in a ruggedy, jess mariano kind of way. you wondered how she knew what gilmore girls was, since that came after her time, but susie would never give away her secret.

so with a sigh, frank agreed to let you see his face. he didn’t really care, all he wanted was to stop having bruises on his shins. it was kind of miserable, and the entity never did anything to help him.

when he said that you couldn’t do it here, and you asked why the fuck not, he said it was because some other survivor might see. you decided he had a fair point, so reluctantly you let him drag you all the way to ormond.

when he took off his mask, your first thought, whether you wanted it to be or not, was “wow! he really does look like jess mariano! but with tattoos! hot!”

you were lost for words. you didn’t really know what you were expecting, but you sure weren’t expecting him to be that attractive.

he could tell your thoughts from the look on your face.

this had been per your request, and you were planning on this being something you could hold over his head, but the situation had turned into something that he could hold over your head.

oh dear. frank morrison now held pretty boy privilege over you.

and soon you would find out that he was going to keep tunnelling you anyways.

listen i've been watching a lot of gilmore girls and i just get jess vibes from frank, except our boy is more of a twinky idk shdjfhsf i love this guy sm

#so many notes!!!! thank u!! :]#dbd x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dbd fanfic #dbd headcanons #frank morrison #frank morrison x reader #quentin smith #quentin smith x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #fruggo writes #dbd #dead by daylight #requests

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