#I promised the drabbles would be longer from this point on -

[cherry-leclerc]

true temptation ☆ cl16

genre: sainz!reader, humor, nnn (mommy, i can explain), smut, fluff, whipped!charles, established relationship

word count: 2k

Your boyfriend makes a decision to participate in NNN, but immediately regrets it when he realizes just how difficult it is to stay away from you. 

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...car sex, riding, fingering

req!... probably the longest drabble i’ve done so far, but i hope you all enjoy! 

“You’re never going to last.”

The Monegasque’ eyes challenge you as you stand there unimpressed, hands on your hips. It had all started with him barging in on you and calling an ‘emergency couple’s meeting’.

Pacing the room, he goes back and forth, mumbling slowly, as if creating a plan up in his head. As far as you’re concerned, he was never going to actually do it. The man was obsessed with you. 

“Have a little faith in me,” he groans, hands brushing his hair back in despair. 

His so called - ‘emergency’ -  was that he would be taking part in No Nut November. No kissing. No sex. 

Or anything remotely related to it.

Walking up to him, you pat his chest. His hands find their way down to your waist, doe eyes staring back up at him.

“I will… But I’m going to make your head spin.”

-

He started off strong. He even felt a bounce in his step when he entered Ferrari Hospitality; he swore he felt like he was walking on sunshine. 

“You’re actually doing it?” 

Joris, too, had no hope for his friend. He had seen the way the green eyed boy would cling onto you as if it were the only thing he knew how to do. The way he talked about you, even when you weren’t around. 

“Oui. Why? Do you not think it’s a good idea?”

His friend tilts his head to the side as he thinks about it for a minute. “Not sure. All I know is that your and Pierre’s bet on who can last longer is never going to end up good. You can’t even go a single second without kissing her!”

“He said he could last longer than me? I have to prove him wrong….” His mind slips over to the last part. “I can live without her kisses for a month. It’ll be fine.”

The Ferrari driver makes his way to his team, properly analyzing what faults his car had and how he can make the best out of it. Frustrated, Charles rubs his eyes. 

“I will do the best I can, but I can’t promise a podium. Not with a car like this.”

Taking notes, Xavi nods as he walks away. “Hi, Xavi!” The sound of your voice instantly makes him ease up as he searches for you. His jaw goes slack.

“What are you wearing?”

Smiling wide with eyes crinkled, you rush over to him. “It’s only a dress.”

But it wasn’t just a dress. He knows you did it on purpose, wearing the little black dress he had last fucked you in. It’s the way it fans your thighs as the wind gently teases anyone passing by. 

“You’re supposed to be on my team. Are we really going to let Kika and Pierre win?”

Rolling your eyes, you tippy toe, naturally about to kiss him, but stop yourself before you do. He frowns. 

“You are sooo right!” You comedically screech as you slap your hands against your cheeks. “I do want us to win! Forget the kiss, my mistake.”

He chuckles darkly, shaking his head. 

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

-

He’s a week in and he’s finally starting to lose his grip.

“You’re sweating buckets, mate,” Daniel points out as he lets out a loud laugh, doing a muppet dive. Charles unbuttons his collared shirt. 

“It’s the heat, it’s the heat.”

The Aussie furrows his eyebrows and he raises a hand up to feel the air. Light breeze. Shivering, you strut over to your boyfriend. 

“Can we leave? It’s getting too cold.”

And he hates the way that dress clings onto your body, your figure being completely shown off. Nothing but dirty thoughts have entered his mind from the moment he first saw you. 

“Sure.”

Kicking off your heels, you throw yourself onto the bed, face first. Shooo tirefff, you mumble against the sheets. He purposefully takes a seat across from you, knowing he’d be tempted to cross the line if he didn’t. 

Tossing over, you reach out for him. And he’s about to turn you down, but he notices the way your nose is painted pink - your cheeks, too - and soft, tired eyes meeting his. His heart melts at the sight. So, he reminds himself that a hug with his girlfriend is nothing bad.

Climbing onto his lap, you dig your face into his chest, short dress riding up. He physically has to stop himself from letting out a loud moan. Instead, he traces his fingers up and down your spine. You shudder.

“Are you sure we can’t fuck, Charlie?”

Right there, is his breaking point. He’s ready to kiss you, finger you, eat you out, fuck you, anything. But you giggle teasingly as you pull back, a wicked smile drawn. 

“Whoops. Never mind.”

-

He’s known you wouldn’t make this easy on him. It’s almost as if you’ve made it your mission to screw with his head - and while he would normally love it - in this case, it was killing him.

Dance with me, you would beg him and you sway in front of him. It was a rare moment of it just being you two, so naturally, you took advantage of it. You showered, did your skincare, watched a movie, but the moment you heard Sparks by Coldplay echoing from his phone, you immediately jumped up like a bunny.

Then, his heart would melt, and melt, and melt - and melt some more. It would only be a reminder of what a perfect match you both were. He would memorize your face once again; no makeup, eyebags due to long travels with him, a small cut on the bridge of your nose from earlier when Lando had accidentally hit you with his frisbee, pink lips he so desperately missed. 

He would oblige, the way you knew he would. He found home within you as you would both sway, your feet on top of his as he would lead you both, you having to do nothing but close your eyes and feel his heartbeat. And it was so sweet to know that it was only yours.

I love you, he would remind you as if he didn’t already tell you a million times before. As if it were a way to make up for all this. And you would say-

“I know.”

-

“How are you keeping up?” 

The Frenchman smiles proudly as he takes a sip of water. “I’m actually doing fine. You?”

Charles gulps, green eyes following to where you stand next to Kika.

“Good.”

-

“It’s actually not that hard.” 

Kika and you had been touching up on your boyfriend's challenge. She would say it as if it were the easiest thing. You slump against your chair.

“That’s not fair… Mine has the most beautiful face ever!”

“Hey!”

You squeal as she aims a pillow at you. I’m sorry! The Portuguese laughs too, sticking her tongue out. You sigh. “I do miss him, though.”

“Yeah…”

“Have we seriously just been talking about how horny we are?”

“Don’t say it like that!” She bites her lip. “We have.”

“Why did they ever think this was going to be a good idea?”

Propping her arm against the table, she beams. “It’s not, but I heard from Pierre about how much Charles is struggling.” You groan.

“Yeah, well that’s nothing but his own fault.”

-

It’s now been 2 weeks and he’s already given up. His pleads were convincing. 

C’mon, baby. Let me fuck you.

It’s been too long. I miss the way you taste.

But you stood your ground. 

“No, no, no.” You shook your head, running away. Seeing Carlos, you hide behind him. “You brought this onto yourself! Now you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

Confused, Carlos questions you both on what you’re talking about. It’s just that your sister won’t let me-

“Stop! That’s my brother!”

The Monegasque shrugs as Carlos turns to you. What is he talking about? Your face burns up as you brush him off. “Nada, nada - he’s just being a jerk.” And so, he believes it and walks away, too tired to deal with any of it.

 You let out a squeal when Charles plunges towards you. He picks you up, carrying you to his motorhome.

“Let go!”

Dropping you onto his small bed, he stares down at you like a lion salivating over their prey. You suppress a whimper, clamming your legs shut. He raises a brow.

“You’re telling me you don’t want the same thing I do? I promise I’ll do it just the way you like it.”

Closing your eyes, you can picture it. You can feel him already, pressed up against you. You do want it, you do. Opening your eyes, you shake your head. 

“Just two more weeks to go.”

-

“We lost.” Taken aback, you snort. What do you mean? Your friend blushes before dragging you to the corner. “I mean that last night Pierre and I went out for dinner and one thing led to another and-”

“Okay, okay, I caught on!”

Giggling, she shimmies her shoulders towards you. “What are you going to do?” You pout as you stare back blankly. She sighs. “I’m talking about you and Charles! I mean you both already won - you could do whateverrrr you want.”

Stuttering, you cough before saying, “You made it loud and clear, thank you very much.”

-

Shivering, you climb into the passenger's seat of his Pista as you thank him for opening and closing your door. As soon as he climbs in, he turns on the heater. The Monaco streets were lonely, everyone already in their homes, sheltering from the light rain that had picked up.

“You want to pull over?”

You sound so sweet asking that he almost thinks he’s hallucinating or that any second now you’re going to surprise him with a, just kidding!

But he quickly could tell you weren’t and he doesn’t want to let the moment slip away. Not when he’s been waiting for so long. Screw it if he lost.

Pulling over on the side of an isolated street, he hauls you onto his lap. You thank the universe for skirts. Pushing your panties aside, his long fingers slide against your wet folds. You let out a wail.

“Fuck, you don’t know how I’ve missed hearing you.” He slides two fingers in. “Feeling you.”

Dazed, you find yourself grinding on his fingers. Every single time they would brush against your g-spot, you would kiss him harder. He slips them out, bringing them up to his lips. 

And he moans in a way you’ve never heard before. So fucking sweet. Blushing, you lean in to kiss him. You can still taste yourself.

“Charles, please - do something.”

Never during your entire relationship has he ever fucked you as hard as he did that day. His grip on your waist hurt, but it hurt so good. His cock would continuously brush against where you needed him the most, so much so, he left you seeing stars. Drooling all over him, you hold onto his shoulders, bouncing up and down rapidly.

“So tight – So warm.” He chokes when you ground your hips deeper. “So fucking good.”

Then, he finishes inside of you. His fingers slide down to your clit as he rubs it. You finish with a loud cry. Kissing you one last time, he slaps your ass. You scowl playfully.

“Admit it - you’ve missed it, too.”

-

“Just a few more weeks and you would have won!” Pierre clicks his tongue before kicking his legs up against the table in front of him. Charles rolls his eyes.

“I’m never doing that again.”

Kika smacks the Frechman’s thigh. “You both lost, remember? Only, you did before him.” The Monegasque quickly springs up.

“You’re saying we won?”

“You’re acting as if this were the fucking Olympics, Cha.” You drag him by the arm to sit back down as he starts celebrating his ‘accomplishment of the year’.

“What are we clapping about?”

Your brother strolls over to an open seat as he opens up a water bottle. Hurriedly, you screech, “Nothing! Only that the season is almost over-”

“He’s yapping about how he won No Nut November, except, he didn’t. 2 weeks and fucking does not count.”

“You did what?”

Jumping up, Charles trips over his feet as he tries backing away from the angry Spaniard. “I think I forgot my phone! I’ll be right back!”

Chasing after him, your brother yells out, “That’s my baby sister, cabrón!”

[missmomof3]

Deep Regret (shelby sister fic)

Sorry if this is awful, this is my first time ever trying to write a fanfiction. I'm not sure what this would be classified as but probably too long to be a drabble. Maybe an imagine? If anyone reads this, thank you and I am fine with criticism (I'm sure I did lots of things wrong) but please be kind.

Summary: y/n shelby always tried to make her family happy, but they all believed Grace over her and soon most bonds were disintegrating, especially with Tommy, who she'd always loved and looked up to.

TW:character death, not proofread, possibly missing some so read at your your own discretion.

"Y/N get in here!" Tommy yelled from his office at you where you were sitting in Michael's office doing your homework.

"What did you do this time" Michael asked, irritated but fortunately not at you, he hadn't turned on you.

You had always been Tommy's favorite sibling, him more of a father than a brother to you until Charlie was born. Until recently you'd even lived at Arrowhouse with Grace and him. But after Charlie was born suddenly Grace began complaining to Tommy of how disrespectful you were when no one was around. That you called her names, taunted her and even until they married, had nicknamed little Charlie "the bastard". But just to her, not around anyone else. You hadn't ever done any of that and at first were confused when Tommy began yelling at you frequently and you weren't allowed alone with Charlie anymore.

He held a family meeting without you there to discuss your behavior. By the time that happened you weren't friendly to Grace anymore because what was the point when you'd be in trouble anyways. The family had noticed the tension so for the most part believed Tommy when he told them of your troubling behavior and they began being short with you and before long it felt like all you had left was Ada, Finn and Michael. Polly was no Grace fan but was disappointed in you for supposedly insulting a baby and felt like you should be grateful Grace had agreed to let you live in their house. John, Esme, Arthur and Linda took that line of thinking as well, deeply disappointed in how you went from being one of the sweetest people they knew to being so disrespectful and cruel. They especially were disappointed that you'd be so two-faced and only do this while no one else was around. At least have the backbone to own your behavior was their thoughts.

So now here you were, living with Polly because even though she was disappointed you were still her niece, but living with hostility everywhere. You were still polite when you saw Grace, but now you held yourself back from everyone so their accusations and lack of faith in you didn't hurt so badly.

Responding to Michael's question with a shrug, you got up to walk into Tommy's office ready to be told off again for some imagined offense.

"Sit down y/n," Tommy said coldly, "and explain to me why you felt the need to make my wife cry last night."

Family dinner was held at Arrowhouse last night, and even though you hadn't wanted to go, Ada promised she'd be there and insisted you go with your head held high, knowing you were innocent. She never believed Tommy, remembering how it felt when Grace's betrayal took her Freddy away. Remembering you sneaking to her place to help with Karl, and how alone she felt thinking her brother betrayed her. It baffled her how her family could believe Grace over you, but whenever she brought it up they all asked why Grace would lie when she loved Tommy and she knew how much sending you away and practically severing his bond with you had hurt him. So she, Michael and Finn still staunchly defended you but gave up on getting through to anyone. That's why last night you stuck close to Ada, never being alone with Grace, in the hopes this very incident wouldn't be happening.

"Tell me, oh brother of mine, what did I do to Grace now?" You asked, no longer worried abour his reaction to your attitude since you had already grieved the loss of your relationship.

So he started laying out some imagined conversation that happened in the kitchen when Grace went to ask Mary a question. According to her you'd seen her and started criticizing her hosting skills, telling her what a disaster the upcoming charity gala would be.

You smirked at his tirade, because this time you knew you had proof. "Call Ada, ask her what happened last night" you said, standing up and getting ready to leave.

"I haven't dismissed you yet," Tommy clipped, grabbing your arm. "I am putting you on notice, if you do anything to embarrass Grace tomorrow night at the gala, I will have no choice but to completely cut you from the family the minute you turn 18. That means no help, no using the Shelby name, you'll be on your own."

"Bold of you to assume once I'm 18 I'll be sticking around here" you said, rolling your eyes, "I know my place now, at the bottom. When I'm an adult I'll take care of myself. I'll miss the family I had, but I'll make my own." Then you left.

Tommy sat with his head in his hands. You'd never know how much his heart broke to imagine you completely gone from his life. He didn't know how to reach you anymore. His sister, closer to a daughter. He still loved you so much and had hoped tough love would work, but he missed you deeply and choosing his wife and son had felt like removing a large part of his heart. If only you could have stayed the sweet girl you once were, before jealousy had taken over.

When Grace first went to him with your behavior, he hadn't wanted to believe it. But the more she went to him and the more you denied it the more arguments it caused between him and Grace. Until finally she told him he was putting his true family aside for a girl who wasn't his daughter, who would eventually marry and leave him, while his wife and son suffered in the meantime. It became easier to give in, to be angry at the strife in his house that you were causing. Especially when it stopped as soon as you moved to Polly's.

But he couldn't ignore the voice at the back of his head reminding him Grace was an accomplishhed liar while you had always been awful at it. So he called Ada. 30 minutes later he was more conflicted than ever but knew he needed to get answers from Grace. Ada confirmed you had never been alone with Grace, never even went to the kitchen. Then he spoke to Polly who also had never seen you leave Ada's side. Now Polly was beginning to demand he find out if they had been wrong all along, if her niece had been sacrificed for familiy unity. Michael had been chipping away at her beliefs for awhile now and this seemed to confirm it.

That night, Tommy sat Grace down, determined to find out the truth. After a lot of obfuscation and denial it all came out. She'd been feeling guilty for some time now whenever she saw how heartbroken and torn her husband was, but she was petrified he'd love his son less than his sister, and with her standing in the family being only strong because of Tommy's love for her and Charlie, she panicked and in that panic had thought if she got y/n sent away, Charlie and by extension herself, would always be his top priority.

This saddened him greatly for a multitude of reasons. Her lack of faith in him even though he'd never been the betrayer in their relationship, his poor choices, his cruelty to you, the loss of that bond. It all hurt.

The next day, before heading out on business he demanded a family meeting be held. He made Grace come with him and confess all. She did, because deep down she felt awful that she'd ruined the life of a sweet girl that had never been anything but kind to her. She'd seen the loss of spark in your eyes and couldn't deny any longer how horrible her behavior was. Maybe this could be fixed. At least your relationship with your family, especially Tommy. He missed you deeply and maybe the memories of all the years he'd loved and taken care of you could combat the time he'd spent alienating and breaking your heart.

The family was horrified but not shocked. Deeply disappointed in Tommy and themselves they made a plan to begin making it up to you. Tomorrow, after the gala, they'd all individually apologize and set about making things right. Work was cut short so they could all get ready, but at least tonight they'd be knd to you and start treating you like the beloved little sister you'd always been.

Tommy and Grace rode in silence to the gala. Grace didn't know how to bridge the gap and Tommy was lost in thought. Before they got out he turned to her and said "After you apologize to y/n, we can begin fixing us. You're Charlie's mother and I still love you, but you broke my trust and cost me someone precious. So right now, let's just focus on righting the wrongs we both have done." Grace agreed sadly, knowing it would be a long time before she had her husband back, but accepting this as the consequences for her bad decisions.

For you the night was going great! Everyone was suddenly friendly, and even Tommy had a warmth in his eyes at you that you hadn't seen in a long time. Grace had made a point of complimenting you and suddenly everyone wanted to talk to you. It made the night pleasant, but you weren't getting your hopes up. You'd built walls and they weren't coming down because suddenly people treated you like you were family again. You stuck around Ada and Finn.

While everyone had been having epiphanies and making plans to repair relationships today, you'd been doing some thinking of your own. Mostly thinking about how different your life might have looked had you had parents. They maybe would have loved you unconditionally. Maybe your relationship with your brothers, their wives, your aunt would have been better if they hadn't also had to help raise you. For so long, you hadn't felt you were missing anything because you had brothers, a sister, an aunt, and more recently a cousin and sisters-in-law that loved you ahd made you feel protected and like you belonged. As a child you'd had multiple people to go to for love, advice and help, it never occurred to you that that could all be taken away. Even during the war, the letters you got from your brothers and the presence of Finn, Ada and Aunt Polly had always kept you from feeling lonely. Now you knew that could be taken away and now you knew loneliness. Now you felt like the orphan you were.

Tommy was walking away from some duchess when he caught your eye and motioned you over. You went over hesitantly, hoping you weren't about to be chastised for something. As you walked up to him, he was in conversation with Grace about her necklace. Hoping to slip past them without being seen as everyone was moving into the banquet hall to eat, you suddenly heard someone yell out "For Angel!" with a gun in their hand. At once time slowed down and sped up and all you could think of was little Charlie losing his parents and becoming like you. Not even realizing you were moving, suddenly there was a sharp pain in your stomach and you were falling into another person.

Everything became chaos. Tommy was horror stricken as he held his baby sister's head in his lap while Grace was putting pressure on the wound. He yelled for someone to call an ambulance and kept trying to get your attention, because you were still breathing but staring at the ceiling like you could see someone there.

"Please, y/n, please look at me, stay with me, don't leave me" he begged, running a hand soothingly through your hair as tears streamed down his cheeks, all the while remembering years of time spent together, how you would climb into his bed after the war and just lay beside him when he'd have nightmares, grounding him and reminding him he was home, safe and warm, not in a tunnel, no enemy shovels around.

Grace had one hand putting pressure on your wound, the other holding your hand while she cried as well. She was horrified at what her behavior stole from you, while you had literally saved her life. Thinking back on the sweet little girl back when she was a barmaid, asking her to sing because her voice was "beautiful" Soon she was nudged roughly out of the way by John who took over putting pressure on your wound, tears streaming down his cheeks. His thoughts on the girl he used to throw in the air when she was little, her always trusting he'd catch her.

Arthur was beating the man who had fired the bullet, he couldn't make himself stop. All he could see was you in his arms as a baby, your finger wrapped in his and your eyes looking at him so trusting, and how much he'd let you down by not going against Tommy.

Polly was on the phone getting an ambulance, begging them to hurry, trying to keep herself calm as she remembered all the times when you were little and would hold out your arms, confident you'd get picked up and cuddled, she could almost feel the warmth of your head on her shoulder.

Ada was holding Finn, praying silently for her sister, most recently at an age where she was fun to shop with, try on clothes together, the girl who would confide in her because she trusted Ada's judgement and knew she was safe to be herself with her.

Michael stood at the door waiting for the ambulance, doing his best not to cry, thinking of his cousin who, even feeling alone and rejected by almost everyone, would listen as he spoke about his girlfriend, and who would joke around with him while doing homework.

Esme and Linda stood by Grace, quietly crying, both thinking of how welcoming and sweet you'd been when they were introduced to the family. Esme knowing no one and yet you immediately treated her like a sister, helping with the kids and softening some of Polly's harshness during the London expansion. Linda wishing she'd gotten to know you better, but remembering how you'd hugged her when she and Arthur got married and said how you knew she'd make him happy and help him find peace.

Regret and sorrow ran so powerfully through the large ballroom it felt like they were a physical presence.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hal congrats on the 5k you absolutely deserve it.

I have a request for the 5k event so here it is

The reader is John's wife who's 9 months pregnant and basically about to burst. Reader goes into Labour while John is out on the field.

Again congratulations on 5k you absolutely deserve every single follower since your Storys are just chefs kiss. I'm very glad i found your blog when i did!

—Here Now

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

You had told him you would be fine, and, of course, John knew he could take your word—even if over these nine months he’d been more worried than he had been in his entire life. It would have been difficult for you to say how you were truly feeling about being home alone two days past your due date with no one but the birds outside to give you company. 

He had been up at arms about being with you through this, and the man’s stubbornness about that fact had made your face go soft with love. John was the most loyal man you’d ever met; add in a child on the way and he became no better than a hound baying at the scent of a fox. But this had apparently been so important that he’d asked you about the idea of being away for a day—a single day, the man had emphasized, even if the others had to stay wherever they were going for longer. He’d take the red-eye back the second after the time was up, a whole military Heli and all.

One day was far better than one week—far better than one month. So, you’d agreed albeit a bit reluctantly as the man reassured you he’d be back safe and whole. He’d be back for the birth. 

Yeah, that was a load of bullshit. 

You lay in the hospital room, panting and trying to keep your eyes open as the contractions hit once more; a whimper hidden as you bend your neck forward to let your chin hit your chest. 

“Shit,” you breathe, the nurse moving out of the room quickly to grab more water and the doctor for you. 

This had been going on for a good four hours—levels of shaking pain that lasted upwards of a minute and had been increasing in frequency more so in the last sixty minutes. They’d finally had you lay back on the bed only a little bit ago, and you knew at that point that John would be unable to make it for the birth of your first child.

The thought terrified you. 

You place a hand on your stomach and blink down at it, the raised half of the bed behind you and the chill of the room making you shiver. The buzz of the lights—the closed windows. Your heart is running not only from the thought of this, of all that could go wrong, but also because you now lacked the most steady rock you’d had in your entire life: John. He’d know what to tell you to make you calm down, to make your mind stop with all the panic. 

But he’s not here, and that alone makes you want to—

The door opens so quickly it nearly busts off of its hinges.

Your heart sputters, head jerking back as you wince from another contraction, this one far more painful and promising to stay for longer. Closer now. But your eyes blink on something more important. 

“I’m here, Love.” As if a phantom, John hurries through, a gaggle of wide-eyed nurses behind him before the door to your room is shut by firm hands. “Fuckin’ hell, Sweetheart, I’m ‘ere, it’s alright.”

He’s still in his gear—lacking weapons as those had probably been tossed away on Base—but vest and hat are present; the large boots with tucked pants and that compression shirt. You watch in shock as he speeds up to the side of your bed, taking your hand in his large one and squeezing. His other grabs the motion-less chair and drags it over with a grunt. 

“Now,” John says, shaking his head at you as you simply stare. “You squeeze my hand as hard as you well please then, yeah? Don’t care if you break a few fingers, Love, I’ve been through worse.” 

“How…” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. “How did you…?”

He blinks those tiny blues at you, twitching his nose as his gaze darts down your body. 

“Had a feeling,” is all he says. 

You laugh through a sob and he presses his forehead into yours, hand on the base of your skull. 

“I’m here right now,” he utters. “Gonna have to have a few words with the little Muppet when they’re out about timing. Nearly made me bloody miss it.” 

“John Price,” you scolded lightly, laughing. 

He only hums and tries to hide his wide grin, eyes shimmering. 

By the time it’s all over, he holds the both of you to his vest-less top as he leans back beside your bare dewy skin, the small bundle kept to your chest with its gripping hands. John’s arm was around your shoulders, drawing you to him. You had fallen asleep not minutes prior, and the soldier kept watch as he always had when his girl was needing him. 

Well, girls now. 

He watches, not speaking, barely breathing, only pulling you closer to him as you sigh and shift. The baby, his and yours baby, gargles and kicks her little feet until he shifts a hand to assist your own in cupping her higher. His smile is uncontainable, just like the sudden glossiness to his eyes at such a tiny weight in his grip.

John watches, and he comes to a conclusion as he presses a deep kiss into your scalp, his thumb taken into the smallest grip that has ever held it. 

There was never a more beautiful sight than the one right in front of him. 

[legomonkiefics]

👑🧡 Wukong and Macaque x GN reader — Bedtime (Drabble) 💜🌙

Genres: Romance, Fluff, Poly || they/them pronouns for reader || Warnings: Overworking

˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆˚｡⋆୨👑🌙୧⋆˚｡⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧. ݁₊ ⊹

It was late at night, but you still had a personal project you needed to finish up. It had already taken you way longer than you had expected. You already had it in your head that if you wanted any hope of completing this, it was gonna have to be an all-nighter. You were writing down the necessary information, arm already sore from the work and eyes feeling heavy. You had your other hand on your cheek in hopes of keeping yourself up.

As you worked, the time ticked on, getting deeper and deeper into the night. Everything in you was begging for you to sleep, but you steeled yourself to keep going. That is until you felt a warm hand over your own. You looked up, jolting a little in surprise at the sudden arrival. Wukong was giving you a small look of concern, a gentle smile accompanying it. "Hey, Sunshine. You've been working for hours" the King pointed out gently, slowly lifting your sore hand. You let the writing utensil fall from your grip as he gently kissed the center of your palm. "Mmn, I know. But I've got so much work to do still..." You mumbled in reply

"Too much to even see us?" another voice called from your other side. Your turned, seeing Macaque come up through a portal in the floor with that smirk on his face "You must really be swamped, hon". You gave a small chuckle that faded to a deep sigh. Macaque noticed, pulling up a chair to sit next to you and rub your shoulder as Wukong gently massaged your other hand. "I'm sorry," You said gently "I got so caught up in what I needed to do". Macaque gave a small hum. "I think you've done enough for tonight, Mooncake. Time for bed"

"Bed?" You repeated, like the idea was absolutely insane "I can't, I've still got to-". "You won't be able to get anything done if you can't even move your hand, Sunshine" Wukong gently cut in, kissing the inner wrist of your sore arm. "I'll be okay" You protested "Just a few more paragraphs, then I can call it a night". "It's already well past the middle of the night, love" Macaque responded with a raised eyebrow as he looked to the nearest clock. You gave another sigh "I promise, guys, I'm fine".

Macaque and Wukong glanced to one another before looking back at you. "At least take a break" Macaque offered, Wukong chiming up after him "You'll work much better if you do". Despite being sure there was something more to this, you ended up agreeing. Your mind was starting to fog from all the working, so maybe this would help after all

Your boyfriends set to work the second you agreed. Macaque helped you get into pajamas, Wukong made you a comfort snack and grabbed your favorite blanket. They then set up the couch, letting you sit in between them as they gently squished you in from both sides. Wukong grabbed the remote and behan flicking through channels. "What do you feel like watching, Sunbeam?" he asked you. You gave a dull hum as the channels flicked past, until picking the first vaguely recognizable thing you could see

With the TV on and your boyfriends on either side, you easily fell into feeling content. Especially since they weren't arguing this time around. You enjoyed the snack you were given, glad to have something to help fill your stomach. The warmth from the blankets and the swimming of your tired head gave way to fatigue soon enough. You didn't realize how tired you really were until now

After seeing you yawn for the third time, Macaque leaned against your shoulder with a chuckle "Looks like you're tired, Mooncake". This time you gave an 'mhm' in reply. Wukong scooted in, gently scooping you up in his arms. You were still wrapped in a blanket, but now in a bridal carry as well. "Should we head to bed now?" Wukong asked, and you nodded as you leaned against his chest. With that, Macaque used a shadow portal to give the three of you a quick entrance to the bedroom you shared

Wukong placed you down in the middle, Macaque to your left and the Sage to your right. They cuddled in, wrapping their arms and tails around you to tangle you in their embrace. It was a soothing kind of warm, one that helped you slip even further into sleep. Wukong kissed your cheek and Macaque rubbed your back as you drifted off, both of them bidding you a softly spoken goodnight as they tucked you in

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍒 ̟ !! SAY THAT YOU MISS ME. 18+!

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴇx

✿ ─ characters: bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, rin itoshi ✿ ─ cw: somewhat angst, nsfw, smut, gn!reader, afab!reader, no pronouns, aged-up!characters(21+), established relationships??, exes to lovers, kissing, groping, dirty talk, semi-public sex, lots of jealousy, alcohol use, posessiveness, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, toxic behaviors/dynamics, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread?? ✿ ─ notes: they are straight up drabbles. i wrote hyoma's first and i was like, omg this is way too long. fuck it, hope i can get the others close to this word count. and then they were longer. im so sorry i promise next time i wont be so long winded.

BACHIRA MEGURU is unsettled by the silence that lingers in your absence...

he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself. the heavy loneliness he feels in a bed far too big for just one person is almost enough to push him to call you, staring at your contact for at least an hour. you were best friends. partners in crime. a power couple. how could things be over? he misses your voice more than anything else, all the time in his day usually spent deep in conversation with you now feeling empty.

he could tell that he reached a real pathetic stage of heartbroken when he started listening to old voicemails from you at night, but couldn’t find it in himself to care as he smiles at your laugh and tears up at your i love you’s. that turns into scrolling through photos he has of you, and then that has his mind drifting to the hidden album he has dedicated to you, full of the numerous risqué shots you’ve sent him over the course of your relationship. meguru doesn’t dwell on the moral dilemma of keeping the pictures, they were his after all. either gifted to him or taken by him, so he feels he has some sort of right to them. when he scrolls to a particular video from his point of view of your pretty mouth wrapped around his tip, his hand almost immediately moves to palm his crotch. he tugs down his boxers to stroke himself to the scene of you deepthroating his cock, the sweet sound of your moans and sputters through his phone speaker making both his dick and his heart ache for you.

after some time spent desperately trying to create a cheap imitation of the pleasure you make him feel, bachira grows frustrated. it’s really unfair now that he thinks about it. how could you indulge him in all his deepest fantasies and give him the wildest hottest fucks of his life only to leave him high and dry in the end? finally giving up on cumming, covered in a thin layer of sweat, he opens his phone again in some lust fueled bravery, texting you hey can we talk?

in your apartment, you were dedicating your evening to trying not to think about all the ways you missed your ex, knowing that the first few weeks of a break up were the hardest. you stand up from the couch, breaking out of your thoughts and hoping to just distract yourself for the time being. picking up your cell was extremely counter productive in that regard, your heart jumping at a text from megs ‹𝟹. he wants to talk. seeing that the text was sent half an hour ago, you jump to reply yeah sure. when? you don’t even think before accepting, the chance to bask in his attention one more time is too tempting when missing him this much. the contact picture you set for him pops up, indicating an incoming call.

you take a breath in the tense silence, offering a somewhat unsure, “hello?” his end of the call comes to life all of a sudden, finally connecting through his current shoddy service. he sounds slightly out of breath and you hear a faint ding in the background. the grainy noises let you know that he probably wasn’t in the quiet privacy of his home as he usually would be at this time. “meguru? is now a bad time to talk?”

“no! now's a good time,” he reassures, “i’m in the elevator up to your place.”

“you’re what?”

there’s some more shuffling from him and quick footsteps that echo both from the call and the hallway outside your apartment. “open up.”

there’s apprehension floating somewhere in your mind, but the big part of you that was very much not over him moves your feet towards the door, unlocking it. as soon as the physical barrier between you and him is gone, there is a completely different tone that settles and you almost sense it before it happens when he pushes forward to crash his lips onto yours. he didn’t exactly have a plan showing up, but seeing you, there was only one thing his body wanted to do. your back collides with the wall of your entryway, one of his hands already on the back of your head to cushion the blow, his other arm coiled around your waist to press you flush against him. unaware of it, the two of you share the same thought. this is 1000 times better than being alone tonight.

“meguru.” you call out trying to gently push against his chest to create some room between you. trying to be the rational one and state the obvious facts. you broke up with him. he shouldn’t be here. it’ll just cause more heartache for the both of you. but tingles run up his back when you say his name that way, breathless as he steals all the air from you. fuels his need to hold onto you tighter and not let you go this time around. eventually you manage to get your hand over his mouth to stop him from kissing you before your resolve really breaks and you let this go too far. “megu we shouldn’t. this is hard enough as it is-”

he pries your fingers away, and just when you think he is going to say something, convince you, justify himself, he dips his head down to capture your lips again, gently sucking on the bottom one to draw out a gasp so he can shove his tongue in. greedy hands grab at your thighs, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he can shamelessly rut his hips against yours. he makes it hard to think straight, pulling away after a moment to stare into your eyes, giving you that signature wild look that causes your knees to go weak. “tell me you don’t want me.”

“huh?”

“look me in the eyes and tell me you don't want me.” he watches you expectantly, his impatience showing when he begins softly rocking into you. “cause we both know nobody else can make you cum like i can. let me make you feel good.”

you don’t find the strength to turn down his offer, not when you’re already panting at the affection he’s given you and soaking from the rhythmic press of his hard cock against you. bachira relishes the relief and arousal that floods through him when you wrap your arms around his neck to drag him into another sloppy kiss, and you feel his grin grow against your lips. the competitor in him recognizes a challenge, his heart pounding in perverse excitement. he has one chance to prove to you just how much you need him. lucky for you, that’s the kind of risk your ex gets off on.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is unreasonably bitter...

you and him are a perfect match, and the thought of you ever replacing him makes him sick. the egoist in him can’t stand the idea of someone stealing his role in your life. someone else taking you out, having your attention, putting their hands on you. deep down some rational part of him knows that he doesn’t stake any claim over you anymore, but the sinking pit in his stomach does nothing to alleviate the gut instinct that you’re his.

it eats at him. chigiri feels childish stalking your social media or casually asking mutual friends about you. he doesn’t want to seem affected, but he just can’t help but give into his curiosity. this same ‘curiosity’ is what leads him to hanging out in the bars he knows you frequent, either with friends or without. he hardly admits to himself that he’s hoping to run into you, but when it actually does happen, hyoma doesn’t hesitate to approach. he’s unsure if it’s the irresistible pull of being within arms reach of you again, or the selfish intuition to make his move on you before anyone else has the chance.

it seems innocent enough. he’s as charismatic and lighthearted as ever, offering to catch up, buy you a drink or two. chemistry you’ve always shared slowly surfaces through conversation. there was no denying that he had his charms, ones that hit all your soft spots just like the first time he won you over. so when he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on your way out of the bathroom, and wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall over from tipsy imbalance, you barely even question it. being in his embrace is familiar and there is a glance shared between you with a certain spark to it that it’s only natural he leans down to kiss you. hyoma is nothing if not an opportunist, smoothly steering you back into the small bar bathroom, his lips and tongue never leaving you.

he’s panting into your mouth between hungry kisses, hands already tugging at your clothing. his teeth find your neck, sucking and biting warm bruises in his wake, eager to mark every inch of skin he can latch onto. before you get the chance to playfully tease him about crawling back to you, your body is twisted around and bent forward over the sink. your eyes dart to the mirror in front of you, meeting his smug grin as he yanks your pants and underwear down your thighs.

hyoma reaches his hand around to dip between your folds, deft fingers rubbing languid circles into your clit the way he knows you like. if it werent for the cocktails you would be embarrassed by the way you immediately melt into his touch, whimpers readily escaping you. “you’re already whining like that and i’ve barely even touched you, this pussy must’ve really missed me, huh?”

pleasure shoots up your core, arching your back at the feeling, pressing your ass into the bulge straining against his jeans. a moan bubbles up in his throat, but he’s quick to close his mouth, muffling the sound to a soft grunt, not willing to indulge you in the reactions you always seek to draw out of him. his hips push forward to grind into yours, the hard outline of his cock enough to remind you of what more you could be having instead of this PG13 dry humping session. you try to catch his gaze in the mirror, but it never leaves the place where you connect, giving you only soft thrusts while his fingers are unrelenting against your clit. “hyoma.” you manage to get out between heavy breaths. pink eyes finally travel up to meet yours. “please give it to me.”

and on a normal day, your ex-boyfriend would’ve dragged out the foreplay and teased you until you’re near tears and begging him for more, but something about the way you ask feels like a confession. that you wanted him just as desperately as he had been craving you. it sparks a fire up chigiri’s spine, wasting no time shoving the tight denim down to release himself. soon enough the tip of his pretty dick is squished against your entrance. his jaw is clenched from the restraint it takes not to immediately bury himself balls deep, grabbing your waist to keep steady.

any doubts that he had about still pining after you are gone, because the first tight clench of your cunt around his tip confirms what he’s always wholeheartedly believed. you were fucking made for him.

“god fuck,” he mutters breathily, biting down onto his bottom lip as he watches your hole swallow his entire length. his hips wind back, not getting far before the grip your walls have on him forces him to slowly sink back in. “anyone else fill you up this good, angel? get you this wet?” he asks, one of his hands grabbing hold of your hair to make you properly face him in the reflection again, wearing a cocky smirk that makes your stomach do flips.

a pout forms on your lips at his leisurely thrusts, far from enough to satisfy you, especially when you’ve seen firsthand the speed and effort he is depriving you of. “i don’t know, im getting a bit bored here princess,” you mock, despite the way you’re barely able to contain your noises as is.

without warning his pace becomes the staple unrelenting and overwhelming one you fantasize about while futilely trying to get off on your own. hyoma lets go of your hair in favor of clamping down over your mouth, loud moans already beginning to spill out around his fingers. the sight of the typically cool-headed prince losing his nonchalance, fucking you with pure ego and a savage glimmer in his eyes isn’t something you’ll easily forget. “this what you wanted? only satisfied when i fuck you stupid, right?"

ITOSHI RIN is not a fan of losing you, but loves getting you back...

rin doesn’t fall in love easily. he doesn’t know exactly how you managed it, but you barged into his life unannounced and dragged love out of him with your unrelenting company and killer smile. and rin was no willing victim either, figuratively kicking and screaming the whole way with his many cold moments and guarded emotions. in the end you won, with him wrapped helplessly around your finger. while rin would prefer to deny you any power over him, there’s a fire that burns in his chest for you that demands he give you everything he has. and he does.

but his love proves to be too much and not enough. too much in the ways of his possessive tendencies and clinginess and toxic defensiveness. and not enough in the way that it doesn’t keep you around. not that he blames you for it, although he does get the occasional bitter thought that you should’ve known to leave him alone from the start. deep down he knows he doesn’t really mean it, preferring even this pitiful longing you leave him with to the dark cloud that was his life before you. and it’s what he fears of returning to if you ever manage to fully pull away from him one day.

the first time you break up, rin admittedly doesn’t deal with it well. after endless calls and texts and showing up at your place with flowers and vulnerability, you take him back, only to return to the same arguments when his jealousy issues get out of hand. he wished he could say the second or third time went differently. fourth time around, however, rin gains some semblance of dignity and decides to keep his distance. maybe it was time to give moving on the good old college try. what other option did he have? as in love with you as he was, he couldn’t force you to stay and wasn’t well equipped to do the soul searching necessary to rid himself of all the behaviors that bothered you. maybe this was a lesson he needed to grow into the type of guy you could see yourself with. at least he intended to take that route, until you showed up at his house a few days later begging for him to forgive you for ever thinking you could live without him. he doesn’t even feel embarrassment over how easily he caves. it can’t be his fault when that night you swore you’d always belong to him while screaming his name. that same night he resolved that no matter what happened, you were it for him, and until you told him without a shadow of a doubt that you no longer loved him, he would return to you every time.

it started this viscous cycle of an on and off again relationship, fueled by passion and possession from both parties. one that rin never planned on ending as long as it was the only way he got to call you his, feeling a deep sense of comfort in the fact that you were weak for him too. that’s why he’s unsurprised hearing a knock on his door at 11PM. a new record considering it only been a day since the huge fight that caused your latest break up, not that rin was keeping count.

he has to stop himself from running to the door, because if he was honest he was thinking of grabbing his keys and heading to you minutes earlier. it doesn’t take more than a, “i’m so sorry baby,” to have him scooping you up into his arms on instinct. the familiar security of your legs wrapped around his hips, hands grabbing at your ass as he carries you to his bed, makes up for the self-loathing mess he becomes in the aftermath of every separation.

none of that other stuff matters when he gets to have you under him like this, already whining in anticipation as he peels away your bottom layers. rin can’t resist leaning in for a quick kiss to your clit before looking up at you from between your legs. a finger ghosts along your slit causing you to squirm and lean up towards the touch before one of his strong hands pushes you firmly to the bed, resting just under your navel. fortunately for you, rin is terrible at denying you the things he knows you want. especially when he’s practically drooling for you, letting the excess spit dribble out of his mouth and onto your cunt. you feel him lick long stripes from your entrance to your clit before wrapping his lips around it.

rin eats you as if it were his first meal in days. being apart from you always seemed a whole lot longer when he has to fear if you really mean it this time when you say you wanna stop seeing him. so he allows himself to be greedy, laves at your slick ravenously with a loud groan and humping his hips against the mattress to relieve his cock that’s already leaking in his boxers. your hands bury themselves in his hair, throwing your head back in pleasure as he bites down into your thigh, leaving an imprint of his teeth. “god you taste so good. you’re fucking criminal for trying to keep this perfect pussy from me.”

his free hand wanders to your core, two fingers easily slipping inside from a mix of your juices and his drool, curling to just the right spot. he sucks your clit into his mouth, your sweet moans fill the air and he has to stop his thrusts to keep himself from cumming in his pants at the sound, pulling away from you with a lewd pop. “‘ts mine,” he grunts out, “you’re fucking mine, and no one can make you feel like this but me. say it.”

“only you rin! ‘m yours!” you choke out, bucking against the pressure he puts on your stomach. satisfied with your response, he dives back in, fingers pumping into you with steady rhythm and using his tongue to lap up everything that leaks out. his intense gaze stays trained on yours with a newfound determination to make you feel so good, you’re ruined for anyone else but him.

“all mine.”

◑.◑ its honestly tempting to write a whole fic for rin…

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[daenysx]

can i request some drabble about the baby boy mentioned in the dad hcs, since hes the younger child, and the girl is 3 years older than him, maybe his birth and her and aemond reaction to it!😃

i hope you enjoy ♡

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, fluff

aemond remembers how his mother tells him alyssa is the calmest baby she's ever seen.

she has a point, he thinks. it's never easy, sitting on a hospital bench as he waits for the birth of his baby. this time he has his girl on his lap, three years old and the loveliest person he knows. they didn't let him in. he tries to be as calm as alyssa.

helaena sits next to him, she reaches to hold his hand. aemond is desperate for any comfort he can get, alyssa leans against her father's chest as he wraps an arm around her. she knows they are waiting for her baby brother but she has no idea what to expect. she doesn't know her mom can be hurting. she just waits with huge eyes following her dad. she stares at helaena who gives her a pretty smile.

"it'll be okay." helaena says.

"i almost forgot how hard it is." aemond says, staring at the floor. "waiting outside when she fights there."

"they would tell us if there's something wrong." his sister tells him. she squeezes his fingers. "you have to believe they'll be okay."

"i believe it." aemond says, quietly. his free hand fixes alyssa's silver hair softly.

"daddy?" she lifts her head to see him properly. "i wanna see mom."

aemond gives her a long kiss on her forehead. "we'll see mom and your baby brother soon. we just need to wait a little more."

"why are you sad?" she asks him. aemond needs to keep his face cool.

"i'm not sad, baby, i promise." he smiles. "i'm just excited to meet your brother."

"me too." alyssa says. she plays with the buttons of aemond's shirt.

"why don't we go get something to eat?" helaena says, reaching for her niece. "i think i saw your favorite cupcakes at the cafeteria."

"you did?"

"yes!" she takes alyssa's hand to let her walk slowly. "we can also bring a cup of coffee to daddy."

aemond is grateful for his big sister more than he already is. he watches them walk away, keeps staring at the walls as he waits. the minutes make fun of him. when will someone come and tell him what's happening inside? are you okay? the baby? he huffs quietly, tilting his head back to the wall.

he was there when alyssa was born and he thinks it was easier. he got to hold your hand and talked to you. now, you're alone. he's terrified if something bad happens to you, no matter what the doctors say aemond knows every birth is a risk.

he takes a deep breath. almost half an hour passed since helaena and his girl left. he sees them coming back, alyssa tries to catch up with her aunt with her tiny legs.

"thank you." aemond says when his sister gives him the coffee cup. "you got your cupcake, baby?" he asks when alyssa climbs on his lap. she nods. "chocolate." she says, holding onto his arm.

"that's nice." aemond tells her. he takes a sip from his coffee but it doesn't do anything to calm his nerves. he looks at helaena. "can we ask someone- they still don't say anything, i can't wait any longer-"

"mr. targaryen?" aemond sees the nurse when he lifts his head. he puts the cup aside and stands up with alyssa in his arms.

"yes?"

"congratulations." the nurse smiles. "you have a healthy boy."

aemond feels a ton of bricks lift up from his chest. "my wife?"

"she's okay. they will bring her and the baby to the room, you can meet them there."

aemond nods, he accepts a hug from helaena. little alyssa wraps her arms around her dad, she notices his pout disappear. aemond kisses her cheek as he walks to the room.

you look exhausted but there's a smile on your face when you see them. the nurses bring your baby to you, they help you sit straight as much as possible with so many pillows behind your back. you tear up the first time you get to hold him in your arms.

"aemond-" you cry. "look at him."

aemond comes to your side. helaena waits by the door to give you some privacy, she doesn't need to do that but she's just too nice. "look." you show him your son proudly. "he has your hair."

"he's so beautiful." aemond says. that's what his son is to him on their first encounter. beautiful. he opens his eyes and aemond sees two shiny lilacs looking at him. he holds alyssa tighter to his chest.

"are you okay?" aemond asks you before giving you a kiss on your hair. "i was so worried."

"i'm okay now." you say. you turn to your little girl who watches you silently. "hi, baby. do you want to meet your brother?"

she nods, and helaena steps in. she takes alyssa in her arms with a delightful smile directed at you. "he's such a pretty boy." she says. "nice to meet you, little angel."

you give your son to aemond's arms. he's cautious, it's a core memory to hold a newborn baby. "this is your brother, little love." he tells alyssa. "his name is aelyx."

"lyx." alyssa says. she watches the baby making quiet noises, her soft hand touches his little fist. "hello."

"you'll be taking care of each other, okay?" aemond says with a wet eye. "you're a big sister now."

"just like me." helaena says, smiling.

alyssa keeps watching the baby the following seconds. it's so interesting to see such a little human, he looks even tinier in aemond's arms. you watch how gentle he is with his son, forgetting all the pain you felt for a minute.

"she'll be such a good sister." you tell aemond. "look at her."

"she will." aemond says, watching her daughter's big eyes as she follows her brother.

[cas-kingdom]

For drabble requests how about something for Greys Anatomy where while Derek is busy in surgery the reader comes in injured and Amelia is there to comfort her and make the medical decisions? It doesn’t have to be anything serious really, I’d just love some reader and Amelia bonding 🥰🥰🥰

The walk of shame along the corridors of Grey Sloan was not altogether unfamiliar to you. Many times had you trudged reluctantly along the polished floors of the surgical unit, clutching some injury or another, purposefully trying to avoid the eyes of anyone you knew--which, in such a unit, was pretty impossible.

Years ago, you would have been slightly less embarrassed. Kids always got into medical equipment, right? At least kids of surgeons who were constantly working. But now, it didn't seem quite right. You were a month away from Johns Hopkins, had aced all your exams and probably wouldn't have even needed the reference letters from half the surgical team, and here you were, head hung low in disgrace as you held your bleeding hand to your chest.

If it weren't for the fact you knew your dad would absolutely murder you if he found out you had hidden an injury from him again, you would have locked yourself away in a break room somewhere and attempted to patch yourself up best you could. Alas. Your father was Derek Shepherd. And after the broken nose you'd managed to keep from him for almost twenty-four hours a couple years ago, he'd all but held you hostage until you promised on his life you wouldn't do it again.

So, here you were. Reluctant as hell but somehow still not regretting the situation that had lead you to this moment.

"Hi, have you seen Dr. Shepherd around?" you asked a passing intern. When he made to walk over to the surgery board, finger already pointing at one row in particular, you visibly grimaced.

"Uh, no, the other one. Amelia Shepherd?" You had no intention of crying to your dad today. Your pride had been smashed to pieces enough.

The intern pointed down the hallway and you saw your aunt walking around a corner with another nurse. Pressing your lips in a thin line, you thanked the intern and followed after her. Your pace was fast enough not to lose her but slow enough that you had time to rehearse your lines before you were bombarded with judgment.

Amelia ducked into a radiology room and you steeled yourself before pushing the door open. "Amelia?"

"Y/N. Why are you holding your hand like that?"

You wouldn't have been surprised at the question, in fact you had fully expected it, if Amelia had turned around to actually see who had walked through the door. Your aunt could do powerful stuff, but mindreading was not on that list.

"I saw you earlier." Amelia turned, arms crossed, brows raised. "Well done, by the way. Meredith thought it would take you longer to find someone. I said it would take..." She glanced at her watch and shrugged. "Twenty minutes. Not bad."

Her supposed victory was short-lived when she looked up. Her eyes fell on your hand and her face dropped as she walked quickly over to you. "I'd rather you not drip blood on the floor," she said, an obvious tease behind her words, as she gently pulled you over to sit down.

You made a face, not having realised. "Oops."

"Oops is right, kiddo." Amelia knelt in front of the swivel chair and let you uncover your hand, humming under her breath when she noted the long, jagged line running down the side of your hand from the base of your wrist to the middle of your pinky finger. "How'd you manage this, huh? Don't tell me you found the electrical saw again."

You rolled your eyes. "I stabbed myself, actually," you said matter-of-factly.

"Ooh, that's a new one. With what?" When your reluctance finally kicked in, Amelia looked up. "With what, Y/N?"

Your hand began to throb and only then did you decide that answering your aunt's questions was probably the easiest way to getting relief. "A needle," you said. "I found a suture practice kit and, oh my God, Meelie, you know that's like giving me candy. I couldn't just leave it alone."

Amelia nodded along, gently probing at the red skin around your wound. "So you practiced sutures on fake skin and, what? Sewed yourself?"

"There was a noise outside and I jerked my hand," you deadpanned. Amelia glanced up, on the verge of laughter, and you looked away stiffly. "It hurts."

"Well, lesson learnt. For now," she added after as a second thought. There was a short silence after that was broken only by your hiss of pain when Amelia touched an exceptionally sensitive spot. Sucking a breath through her teeth, the surgeon sat back on her heels and looked up at you. "How were your sutures?" she asked. "Straight? Neat?"

You lit up, Derek's smug smile curving your lips not a second later. "Straightest and neatest you'll ever see."

"That's my girl." Amelia squeezed your knee before standing to her feet and taking out her phone. "Now, what do we tell your dad when he sees you later with stitches in your hand?"

You couldn't have groaned louder. If the chair didn't have a straight back, you would have fallen backwards with the force of it. When you righted yourself, a fierce look of indignation on your face, Amelia wasn't even attempting to hide her amusement.

"I need stitches?"

"Yup. Aaand, lucky for you, I think Derek should be out of surgery by now." Chipper as ever in the face of her niece's almost tangible disgust, she held open the door and nodded in its direction. "Come on, kiddo. He'll be glad to do a little needlework. Bring him back to basics."

You rolled your eyes once more as you got up, cradling your hand to your chest. "Like brother, like sister," you grumbled as you passed your aunt.

"What was that?"

"I said: like brother, like sister, you sadist."

Amelia snorted.

Grey's Masterpost

[dead-boys-club]

†  normal : hawks.

❥ scenario: this is a cluster fuck of different writing based on concerns and desires of keigo with his civilian lover. * it's written like this because the request wasn't really specified, so you get the answer in multiple different way. ❥ no triggers; not rated. however, this does have spoilers - i think?? ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ this was a request <3

I apologize - this ended up so much longer than i originally anticipated.

let me start off first with a few little hcs that come to mind.

One: when it comes to the idea of having a normal life and what to do about it, keigo is going to keep it to himself until he can't anymore. he already assumes it's a doomed thought - he's government/commission property, right? he's not allowed to have a normal life and he's well aware of the fact that as long as he's useful, he doesn't have much of a say. He would keep an eye on you, watching you go about your daily routines with a consent nagging voice in the back of his thoughts; constant longing, wariness - it's almost as if it's splitting him apart to have all of these thoughts. thoughts that he continues to tell himself he's not allowed to have. even when he's mid mission, he still has the idea of your future in the back of his mind. he's very much going to suffer in silence over it.

Two: his idea of normalcy, to him, is quite boring but that's the point. he often lays awake at night, imagining what it would be like to have a small house, somewhere no one can find, maybe with a garden and a pet - something so domestic with you causes his bones to ache and makes him restless. those imagines, so whimsical and pretty, always turn to nightmares the moment his eyes close because.. what if something happens to you? he would find himself teetering on the edge of his own ability to keep sane trying to have his own life. all he wants is simplicity; routines.. a home with love, laughter - no broken promises, bloodshed or the idea of one of you not making it home.

Three: he does have one idea. one idea that's so.. awful and pathetic that he wonders if he'll sound crazy even bringing it up to you. running away with you. it would be possible, right? he could find a way. your optimism would make up for the uncharacteristic lack of his own in that moment when he finally lets the idea slip. he wants a life where he can just be present with you and maybe that's what needs to be done. [ SPOILER? ] when keigo loses his quirk, despite his fears of not being able to protect you.. he really starts holding onto the dream of being with you, normal, enjoying life. after all - how can you be a hero without a quirk?

Four: even if he brought it up to you before, he would still battle it before finally coming to the decision to do something. he would sit with you, probably very uncertain and unsure, even though you'd already seemed enthusiastic about it. he would explain his thoughts, his nightmares, his fears.. his desire to keep you safe and keep you happy, away from the life he'd grown tired of. he loved saving people but he just wanted something he never had the chance to have before. he would offer you the chance of a fresh start, just the two of you, repeating to you, your comment that everyone can be free of the shadows of their past if they take the right steps.

with your support and thrilled agreement to follow him, because honestly, you'd follow him anywhere. he would find himself grasping at hope as you spent time planning, chatting about the future you both wanted. it would be frustrating. yes, it was decided but he would have his moments of feeling like he was stopping your life as well but he would be so conflicted, he couldn't find a balance between the pros and cons that didn't make him feel selfish.

✧*̥˚ first tiny drabble *̥˚✧

keigo had spent years pining over the idea of normalcy - a home, a loving family and the pleasure of living an every day life; an idea he'd abandoned countless times due to being a hero. the ache in his chest grew worse when he'd met you, a civilian who had chuckled off his hero persona and saw straight threw it, smiling and brushing it off; you saw him as just another person and that moment, he began to dream that maybe he could be just that.

your ability to stand by and cheer him on through everything furthered the chaos on his mind, something he kept from you the best he could. you supported him through the challengers and dangers that came with being a hero and at the end of the day, you greeted him the same way and welcomed him home, letting him shed the skin of 'hawks' and live just a few hours as himself. you brought him solace, anchoring him to reality as he battled having a double life. time passed, though, and he could only handle it alone for so long before realizing he couldn't just ignore the growing desire to have a normal life.. he just knew he had responsibilities that he couldn't simply walk away from. they wouldn't let him.

he battled with the secrets, the lies, his past, your safety.. all of it was becoming too much.

after one rather harsh mission that left you both a little shaky, keigo found himself staring out the window, the evening sky bleeding into night and his bones aching beneath skin and muscle. that didn't matter though. you sat beside him, quiet, and giving him the space to relax, just content to have him home.

'this.. i love this,' he finally spoke, voice holding the softest tinge of regret, and followed by a sigh. 'being here with you, so close, it's everything i've ever wanted.' he couldn't deny his enjoyment of his career but truly, nothing beat getting to sink next to you and not think anymore.

you squeezed his hand, silent encouragement for him to continue, curious where his thoughts had fallen.

'but..' keigo shifted, words having heavy in the air as a frown ghosted over his features. 'they don't like it.. this isn't the life i'm supposed to be living. they're call it a liability and.. well, that puts you in danger.'

understanding the concern, you were growing afraid of where the conversation was headed. 'it's not like i didn't know the risks when i agreed to be with you.. i love you, regardless of the danger, you know that.' that felt to easy to you, tightening your hold on his hand.

the blond tipped his head to look at you, tired and a little overwhelmed, 'and i love you, too, more than anything.'

you frowned. 'but..'

his shoulders slumped and he squeezed your hand. 'but,' he repeated, 'am i being selfish? risking your safety just for a few hours of being normal, it's not fair to you.'

immediately, you began shaking your head, firm with how you chose to respond. 'Keigo, you listen to me. this isn't just about you or what you want - it's about us, isn't it? i chose to be with you because i love you and i trust you; because i fully believe in you. so what, with you or not.. i'd be facing risks every day with the world we live in. i'd rather face those risks with you.'

he swallowed hard, eyebrows briefly pulling together. 'that's what scares me. you're willingness to put yourself in this position.' he didn't like admitting it but he had no choice, feeling backed into a corner with the world around him, making his choices for him. 'it's something so.. real.'

it took a moment for you not to chuckle, knowing it would earn you a look you didn't need, and reached to cup his face, thumbs brushing gingerly at his features. 'we will face whatever comes out way together. i'm not going anywhere.'

his eyes slipped shut, leaning towards the warmth of your touch. 'i know,' he mumbled, tone making it obvious just how low he felt. 'just.. i need to figure it out, how to keep you safe.. how to make all of this work.'

'and we will.' you smiled, leaning up to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, 'if we aren't facing them together.. well, that's not real love.'

he didn't respond, just pulled you closer, finding solace in your words and presence. keigo knew that with you, he'd already found a home, nothing else mattered - he just needed to keep that safe.

✧*̥˚ another small drabble but with spice *̥˚✧

tension was an awful thing and it hung thick in the apartment as you and keigo as he paced, his demeanor fractured in frustration and agitation. you sat, silent, watching him with concern, knowing full well that his outburst didn't come from something so surface level. his deep-rooted fear of losing you, your safety, it was getting to him.

'kei..' you pleaded barely above a whisper, breaking the silence. 'i get that you're concerned, and i unde--'

keigo turned on his heel to face you, the expression he held so intense that you were a little surprised. 'but nothing!' he hadn't even realized he raised his voice. 'do you understand what could happen..? what could happen to you just because you're with me? what they could do to you?'

you were honestly a little confused; you weren't sure if he was speaking on the topic of the commission or villains anymore but you brushed that aside. his words cut deep, the fear and desperation as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. it made your heart weep to see him in such a pent up state and as you stood, you thought carefully over what you were going to say.

'i know it's dangerous. i know.. we have things coming at us from more than one side,' you began, keeping your voice as steady as you could manage, trying not to let your own whirlwind of emotions make things worse. 'but, i can't just walk away.'

he shook his head, jaw clenching for a second. 'i'm not asking you to walk away, i'd rather be on my knees begging you not to,' he said, his voice becoming softer. 'what you don't understand is .. is i don't know what i would do if something happened to you. i need you to be careful. i need you to stay safe.'

'i am careful. i'm always careful,' you frowned, 'i know how to take care of myself. did you forget that? i made it how long before i met you?'

closing his eyes, he shifted his weight and took a moment to collect himself, struggling to rein in emotions that felt like he no longer had control over. when he finally spoke, you could hear the regret laced within the words. 'i know you do. it just scares me to think i could lose you.. because of me.'

you hated the way tears welled up, the weight of his words settling heavy on your shoulders and you weren't sure what to say. reaching out for his hand, you held onto it tightly.

'i love you.' your voice trembled and you took in a soft breath. 'i'm not going anywhere.. and i'll fight tooth and nail if something ever happens. but, i need you to trust me as much as i trust you.'

looking down at your hands, then up to you, keigo's gaze softened. 'i do trust you. it's hard.'

'i know.' carefully pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace, you took in a deep breath to keep from falling apart. 'we'll figure it out. we always do.'

✧*̥˚ thoughts *̥˚✧

as impossible as hawks would think it was.. i don't think he'd ever be with someone who agreed with him - because he needs someone by his side that is willing to fight for him and face the world with him. maybe a completely normal life wouldn't be something he could have, not with his quirk, but his s/o would do everything in their abilities to give him as many normal moments of they could.

hawks would grasp on to every single moment he could - despite the worries and concerns. however, if she were in danger.. i think he would probably shut down. he's very rational, very logical - he knows it's possible but if it actually happened? i don't think he would be able to handle the way he felt.

so, let's go into some hcs about her getting hurt - and i'm breaking this down, outside of a scenario, for the simple fact i don't have a scene base.

✧*̥˚ if his s/o actually got hurt *̥˚✧

let's start off with his initial reaction because not a single person could look at me and say he wouldn't feel guilty; he'd feel like his entire world just shattered to pieces. everything they'd talked about, fought about - it had become reality. he would be overwhelmed and probably angry with himself about not being able to protect her, thinking over and questioning every single little choice he'd made that lead to not being there for her. he would blame himself. if this happened, say.. like during the mla arc and she was a casualty, i think he'd become very.. how to say, merciless with whoever he was against, because he'd be fueled by the racing thoughts of; is she alive? is she okay? does she hate me? i failed her.

not a single thing would matter to him until he got to see her and the moment he learned where she was, he was off - almost begrudgingly finishing what he needed to, first. he's probably not in the best shape and he doesn't give a single shit about anyone around him - he just needs to get to her. he would be so desperate to find her, words almost not coherent as he asked around the staff.

it would take everything in him not to be on his knees the moment he saw her in a hospital bed, feeling like he didn't even deserve to be called a hero when he couldn't save the one person he truly loved. however, i will say, he's not going anywhere. he would be by her side, barely sleeping or eating, ignoring others, refusing to leave until she was leaving with him - he would be reluctant to have his own injuries looked at because they didn't matter. those around him, they wouldn't recognize him - the hawks sitting beside her bedside was someone that no one else knew. the tears, the cursing; he was in pain and struggling with heart ache just being there.

as he sat there, holding her hand, he'd be left with his thoughts and let's be honest.. hawks is not a character that should be left with endless time alone with his thoughts. doesn't matter the topic. his confidence would be broken. his own self worth would be trash. hawks already has moments of believing he isn't worth a grain of salt but he'd be so caved in that he would doubt his ability to be a hero, a partner, a human being. in his mind, even being a hero that's supposed to keep countless people safe, he would have failed his most important role.

as she began to recover, hawks would slowly sink into a world of contemplation on what to do when she was out. he'd have done something he thought was even shittier than letting her get injured - he would write out a break up note, because he didn't feel worthy of facing her. she would never see it, he couldn't do that but he debated on if no longer being connected to her would help; maybe it was the only way to keep her safe. he would tell her this and it would be a very heavy, very draining conversation and he would feel like absolute shit for putting her through something so emotionally and mentally exhausting after what she'd been through but.. he would be a little relieved when she lightly hit the back of his head and told him to stop thinking that way.

hawks would walk away from this with even more determination to be better; to be a better partner, hero, etc. he'd become even more vigilant and serious, needing to do what he could to make sure she never ended up hurt again. even though she reminded him that he couldn't always be there and things happened - he would still do his damndest.

even if his lover could bounce back and reassure him, i think a situation like this would honestly be pretty traumatic for him. he already struggles with guilt and regret and that would just deepen - it would be something he would bring up every blue moon, needing to vent and hide away with her for a day or two just to deal with the thoughts and feelings that came with them. because of her, ignoring the AFO quirk situation, he would accept that.. things couldn't be perfect, couldn't be as simple and normal as he wanted.. but he would just have to make due with what she made normal for him, and he'd be happy with that. he would still think about it.. dream of a home, peace.. and he would hold onto hope that one day he could have that but until that day, he would work with it and just be happy to have someone who cherished him so much.

[her-devils-advocate]

I drag myself like a rug in the rain

pairings: Levi Ackerman x reader

genre: sickfic / fluff

summary: You are sick with the flu, yet refuse to admit it before a certain stern captain. He easily makes you swallow your pride.

The title is taken from The Amazing Devil – Blossoms. It was also a quick drabble written from my own frustrations of being ill!

word count: 1,015

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55134844

“You’re not going and that’s final. You look like you’re about to keel over.” Levi’s voice is stern, leaving very little room for argument, but despite his harsh words, his hands are gentle as he pushes you back down on the bed.

"I told you, I'm fine. I'm more than capable of joining the meeting!" Your voice is strained, the words coming out jumbled as you rush to finish the sentence before being overtaken by yet another coughing fit. You weakly glance up at Levi, the man standing before you with crossed arms and a highly unimpressed look on his face.

"Right," he drawls out, moving to the other end of your small bedroom to lean against the door as if you were capable of rushing past him to escape his scrutinising gaze. Part of you is tempted to try, just to cause some amount of annoyance. The more rational part stays still, knowing that in your current state, you would just prove his point faster than you’re willing to.

"If you can walk over to me with ease, then I'll believe you."

You scoff, ignoring the harsh tickle in your throat that the action causes, and slowly rise from the bed. Your body protests, the stiff muscles aching with each movement while your vision blurs. You push it down, refusing to let it show on your face as you slowly place a foot forward, doing everything within your willpower to take a firm step.

"When I make it to you, you promise to let me attend the meeting?"

"If you can make it over here, then sure. It’s not like I want to keep you locked up in here, lazing around all day when we have shit to do.”

“When.” You argue weakly, refusing to back down despite the nausea growing worse with each passing second.

“Besides, you know the meeting is important, especially since it's about the upcoming expedition. We can’t afford to miss a single one now that it's approaching us.”

He rolls his eyes, shifting his position to get comfortable against the cold stone, almost as if he's expecting to be stood there for a while. “Stop stalling. If you want to go to the shitty meeting so much, you know what you have to do.”

You give him your best glare, yet from the way his lips twitch with a concealed smirk, you know you must look like a mess. You have hardly slept, the night spent in a feverish daze, despite retiring to bed earlier than you usually would. The day prior was spent pushing your body beyond its usual limits, wanting to train as much as possible despite the chill air, the change of season growing more noticeable. You groan, regretting the past yet being unable to change a thing.

“You could simply order me to stay in bed, that way we could just avoid this whole song and dance. The fact that you aren’t giving the order proves that you think I’m fine.” You mirror his stance, crossing your arms against your chest with fake confidence and wishing that he doesn’t notice the slight trembling of your hands.

This time Levi lets out a small laugh. The sound is airy and unexpected, and your eyes widen momentarily, convinced that your sickness has finally caused you to hallucinate the rare, but welcomed sight. 

“Nice try. We both know you wouldn’t obey the order, regardless of how sick you are, I’m not going to waste my time giving it. So if you would like to get this ‘song and dance’ over with?” Levi says as his eyes fixate on the way your breathing grows more and more laboured the longer you stand. 

You deflate, knowing he has called your bluff. You give in and place your weight on the extended foot, shakily moving forward. Your bones feel like glass and your chest burns, but you manage to take the first step. You forget to keep up the appearance of health, more focused on actually getting your body to function under his piercing stare, yet you silently celebrate the hollow victory. 

The mental celebration is cut short when you feel your legs give way, you squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to feel your weak body collide with the solid ground. Instead of the unforgiving floor, you are met with strong, firm arms wrapped tightly around you. You slowly open your eyes to be met with his silver glare. Annoyance is painted clear on his face as his lips thin into a straight line.

“This is why you should have stayed in bed, instead of wasting time and arguing with me over it.” Despite the glare, his voice is soft as it reveals his worry. Your health has always been his top priority, even when it's just a common cold making its way through the scouts.

Levi slowly lifts you and brings you back to the warm comforts of your bed. You snuggle against your pillow, letting out a defeated sigh as he brings the blanket up to your chin. He tucks you in tight and you let out a small, slightly delirious giggle, you almost regret it when his hands pause and he stares at you expectantly.

“Are you trying to make it so I’m physically unable to leave this bed?”

His features soften and he continues to help you get comfortable, smoothing out the cover until each crease that dares to mar your blanket retreats, “That’s not the worst idea you’ve had.”

You’re not sure if you want to bask in the compliment or argue that you’ve had better ideas and that he knows it. Your mind is made up the moment he continues to speak.

“That way we can minimise the amount of surfaces you can infect with your germs. We don’t want you infecting the others at the meeting, do we? Now stay put while I bring you some food.”

And with that, he turns to leave the room, a soft smile on his face as your strained shouts of protest and offence follow his retreating form.

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Xavier: Promise Me | Drabble

Since I forgot to upload yesterday I'm popping two of these in today. This has a little angst, something I say I never write but lbr I love making people feel things. Hope you enjoy this because it's still cute and fluffy.

Pairing: Xavier x Reader Warning: Angst + Comfort Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier flinches, his entire body recoiling from your touch. You had a cotton ball doused in alcohol, and a rather pissed off look at the moment. Xavier had come to your apartment, half dead, and you had of course taken him and dragged him to the couch. This wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last time this happened.

You were just happy he actually came to you. He used to just go to his apartment when he was in this condition and would visit once he was better and all cleaned up. This had only managed to piss you off due to how often you’d be waiting for him to return from a mission, never knowing if he was safe or not. You were certain this man had aged you ten years in the time you’d been dating him.

“Perhaps if you were more careful, or better yet brought back up, this wouldn’t be happening,” you scolded him, grabbing another thing of gauze to wrap around him. You knew he healed fast in his sleep, but you also knew he managed to heal even faster if someone took the time to treat his wounds first.

“I’m so-ow,” he was cut off from his apology as you almost dug the thing of cotton into him. You didn’t want to hear it as you went back to cleaning and wrapping, something that was almost second nature to you at this point.

“I’m just worried…” you said with a small frown on your lips. You took a moment to gather your thoughts and cleared your throat, “I’m worried that one day your injuries are going to be too much and you’re not going to come back to me,” you admitted finally.

Xavier seemed taken aback by this, watching how your eyebrows furrowed in worry and how you looked away from him. A small pout was on your lips and he sighed. He took his hand and grabbed your chin, moving you to face him. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, murmuring his next words.

“I promise I’ll always come back to you,” his voice was almost a whisper but you still heard it clear as day. You didn’t even know when your eyes began to tear up, small droplets falling down your cheek as you sniffled.

Xavier seemed to take note of this and was almost cooing as he grabbed you and dragged you closer to him; you were now settled on his lap as he pressed another kiss to your cheek, then another. He grabbed your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles as he looked up at you through his silvery bangs.

“I won’t leave you. Not now, not ever. Please believe me,” his voice seemed to almost crack as he tried keeping it steady and calm, knowing if he showed too much emotion right now it would only send you spiraling even more. There was an empty pit in the bottom of your stomach as your mind swirled with the worse case scenarios.

“How can you promise that…how can you be so sure?” you asked and he sighed, putting your face into the crook of his neck as he rocked a little with you in his arms.

“Because as long as you remain on this earth, then so shall I,” he said, his breath fanning over your ear as he said those words. Your hands were pressed against his chest, your nails gently scraping over the skin, a small reminder that he really was there with you.

“If I go with you, at least I know you’re safe…please take me along next time,” you finally said, managing to even out your voice as the tears stopped for the time being. He felt so warm and safe and you wished you could just stay like this for a little longer.

“I can’t take you to some of these places,” he reminded you gently, his hand on your back as he rubbed soothing circles there.

“Then don’t just disappear next time. Let me know where you’ll be,” you said, almost angry now that he had once again left on a mission without saying a word to his partner.

“I will, I promise,” he settled on after a moment, pulling away so he could cup your cheek in his hand. He brought you down for a kiss and you melted into it. After a second he parted, “I’ll keep you updated, but you need to do the same for me.,”

You nodded your head before leaning in for another quick kiss, “Alright, I promise,”

Gods I can't believe I'm actually willing to wake up too fucking early just to see a livestream and find out who Sylus is...wish me luck in actually waking up because you're boi is not a fucking morning person.

[samkerrworshipper]

Would you please be able to write something about you getting the call up for the WC and calling Sam afterwards crying. Just lots of fluff xx

Thank you

the phone call | sam kerr x lionesses reader

sorry my lovelies… i’m still yet to leave bed because of this pain flare up

sorry if i’m not interacting with your messages and kind words.. trying to limit my screen time but i promise im seeing them all and it means the world to me

for now you all get some little drabbles that are sitting in my drafts xo

It’s 6pm.

The calls were supposed to start going out at 4 and it’s 6.

You’re paralysed, stuck to your spot on the couch, your feet anxiously tied up in the blanket draped over you as you stare down at your phone, patiently awaiting a call.

It hasn’t been an easy ride to get to this point, almost a year ago you were lying in a hospital bed, unmoving and unsure whether you’d ever walk again, let alone be in contention to play football for your country.

You’ve worked your ass off, tens of hundreds of hours in the gym, rehabbing, working on your strength, all for this call.

You know realistically that the longer you’re left waiting, the longer that your chances are depleting.

Coaches make the easiest calls first, the starting eleven, then their moving bench, players who will still get plenty of time on the pitch, then they move onto the maybe players, players whose skill sets might be needed depending on the team, then it’s onto the emergency players, then it’s the fillers, players that are just kind of on the squad because of courtesy, even though the chances that they will play is next to nothing.

In your mind, you fall into some place between the last two, Sarina doesn’t owe you anything though, the last time you played for her was the Euro’s semi final, when everything went to shit for you and sure, you’ve worked hard since then, but sometimes hard work isn’t always enough, especially in the world of soccer politics.

You sent Sam out of the house to run some errands half an hour ago, insisting you would be fine, but right now you wished you hadn’t, because there is nothing you need more than to be cuddled up in your fiancé’s arms.

She’s been there for you every single step of the way, quite literally being the person who helped you walk your first steps after surgery.

The road has been tough for the both of you, and you know there is nothing Sam wants more than for you to be with her in Australia over the Summer.

If it isn’t meant to be, then it isn’t, you’ll be there anyways on the sidelines supporting her but there is something so much more satisfying about knowing that you might get to be on the pitch beside her.

You don’t know what you’ll do if you are back in the squad, sure you’ve been to the last two camps, but being named in the actual squad is something else, especially for the world cup, it would mean the whole world to you.

Your thoughts are enough to drain out the ping from messages, but the desperate vibration in your hands isn’t.

Your eyes dart down to the screen, bursting open like you’d just consumed a energy drink when Sarina’s name pops up on your screen.

‘If you have a spare minute would love to chat whenever your free.’

You’ve been free since 12pm last night, sleep didn’t come for you, instead you’d sat by the phone, waiting for any kind of notification.

Sam had tried her hardest to pry you away, forcing you to come on a morning run with her, which was extremely abnormal, neither you or Sam where runners, but you assumed it was just your girlfriend trying to make you feel a little bit better.

You typed at your phone like a mad man, unwilling to miss this precious window that seemed to have opened for you, you didn’t even had the chance to actually think about Sarina actually calling you, too busy furiously tapping at the keyboard on your phone.

‘Free to chat whenever suits you’

You didn’t have much time to look at your text, mere seconds after the bubble went blue Sarina’s contact was popping up on your screen.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do much more than aggressively tap the green button and watch as the call connected and Sarina’s face popped up on your screen.

“Y/n, good to see you, how’s your day been? I’ve been told there is quite a storm in London today?”

You don’t want to talk about weather, or this as trivial as how your day is going, but you put a smile on for Sarina anyways, a cute little smile that you normally save for press conferences after a particularly bad match or rough game.

“Sarina, it’s an honour as always, I’m doing well thanks, the weather is definitely shocking but we’re used to it, how’s it doing in the Netherlands?”

Sarina smiles at you, and it makes you feel a little bit uneasy, why can’t she just rip the bandaid off.

“It’s nice today, blue skies. How’s Sam? I don’t know if I had the chance to congratulate you on your engagement yet.”

You put on another little smile, trying to act like the nerves growing in your stomach aren’t bubbling up so badly that you feel as if you’re about to vomit.

“Sam’s good, we’re very happy, I’ve sent her out to get groceries which I’m regretting because she hasn’t got a clue what we need.”

Sarina laughs heartily, and it’s almost enough to make you feel a little bit better about the whole situation.

“Well I hope she’ll be happy to know that you’ll be in Australia over the Summer playing for England, if you’d like?”

All thoughts in your brain are cut off when you catch onto what Sarina is saying and then all of a sudden you can feel the tears building up in the back of your eyes.

“You’re serious? You want me in Australia?”

Sarina just laughs once again.

“You were part of our winning Euro’s team y/n, there is nothing I would love more than to welcome you back. You are a crucial part of our defence, especially with Leah missing and there is nothing we need more than your leadership. You’ve been fantastic on the pitch recently, both club and at camp, if you keep performing as you are, I think you’ll be very deserving of taking your place back in the starting eleven, how does that sound?”

You have to put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from sobbing.

“Thank you so much Sarina, you genuinely don’t know how much this means to me, I’ll prove to you everyday that I deserve to be there and I’ll do whatever I can on and off the pitch to help the team.”

Sarina just smiles to herself.

“I don’t doubt that at all, all I ask is that you try your hardest, I’ll let you go now y/n, have a good couple of weeks, I’ll see you at the airport.”

Before you can embarrass yourself any further, you're wishing Sarina farewell and pressing the red button at the bottom of your screen.

It takes a few seconds for it all to set in for you, the happenings of your phone call slowly sinming into your brain.

It’s when it all sinks in that you realise tears are still dripping down your face, and before you can think about it too hard your searching for Sam’s contact and clicking the call button.

To Sam’s credit, it takes about three seconds before your girlfriends face pops up on your screen.

“I think I might need a shopping list- baby why are you crying?”

Just looking at Sam makes you perk up a little bit, she’s all flustered which you don’t see very often.

“Sarina called, I’m in the squad, she wants me in the squad.”

Just saying it creates a whole other wave of emotions of flowing, and this time you don’t even try to stop the sobs leaving your mouth.

Sam lights up immediately.

“Baby, that is awesome, I’m not surprised at all, I’m leaving the shops now, I’ll be home in five minutes we can talk about it then, hmm?”

You nod eagerly, a big smile breaking out across its face.

“I’m so proud of you babe, you’ve worked so hard for this, I’ll be home in a couple of minutes, okay?”

You just nod at Sam, far to giddy to do much besides jerk your head up and down like a energised puppy.

You weren’t quite sure what the future held for your Summer in Australia, but you that no matter what, no matter the injuries, setbacks, bad games, Sam would be there for you through it all, she’d be there for you, no matter what side of the dug out you were sitting on.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Tall (Discord Drabble) I don't think I've written Steddie-height difference discourse/banter so here we go...

As Dustin huffs another frustrated breath beside her, Robin rolls her eyes. She can feel the kid folding his arms beside her as they watch Steve and Eddie flap about, arguing about their non-existent height difference near the front door.

Steve promised he would do all the restocks today while Robin showed Dustin the ropes, prepping their friend for a potential summer job – one that only Keith could officially grant.

But she didn't expect her best friend to immediately become distracted by Eddie's nonsense. He's become kind of a (total) pest, coming in on one too many breaks from the mechanic down the street to tease, taunt and sickly flirt with Steve at every possible opportunity.

Robin grips her notebook, her Bible of Family Video work processes she wants to impart on Henderson in order to impress his potential employer.

She thinks she'll just about break its goddamn spine if the scene before her carries on any longer.

"You are not taller!" Steve complains, holding his arms tight against his sides and puffing out his chest for maximum height.

Eddie snorts, "Oh pish-posh, Steve."

He mirrors Steve's stance and honestly, as she eyeballs it, Robin is sure Munson looks to be an inch taller.

... At least in his work boots.

Steve must read her mind because he quickly points to said height-assisting footwear and clicks his fingers.

"Boots, off!" he commands and Eddie grins.

"Yes, sir!" he enthuses.

"Yuck," Dustin grimaces.

Robin thinks her eyes might roll back into her skull, never to return.

Shoes off now, Steve and Eddie square up again. Steve smirks.

"See?" he teases, "Taller."

Eddie practically hisses as he looks him up and down, fists clenched tight. He murmurs something to himself before he attacks Steve's hair, patting his quaff down and smoothing it out with flat palms. Steve screams, batting him away.

His resistance creates a chaotic (and more than a little pathetic) slap-fight.

"What-cha-fu – "

"You're a no-good cheat with that hair!"

"Don't touch it!"

"Don't worry, Stevie, you're still bigger where it counts."

Dustin claps his hands over his ears.

"Disgusting!"

Steve manages to shirk away from Eddie's hold around his waist, jumping back far enough that he almost falls straight into the shiny new cardboard cutout of Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

"Henderson!" he pants, clutching at his lower back. He takes a moment to gather himself before fishing in his back pocket and retrieves his wallet.

He hurls the thing across the store. It goes flying as Robin and Dustin both fail to catch it. The wallet hits a candy display, knocking a box of 3 Musketeers and scattering them all over the floor inside the counter space.

"Oops," Steve says, bringing his hand to cover his mouth.

Robin catches his eye and scowls.

"Dustin..." Eddie huffs, winded, "Go buy a tape measure."

[anika-ann]

made-up fic title: ever so softly

Hello dear 🥰 Thank you so much for participating in the game 😍

Since my brain does refuse to acknolwdge the concept so far, you too get a little drabble-ish thing 🥹 This time only with 600 words, Bucky, and a flavour of angst with hurt/comfort 😇

ever so softly

warnings: mentions of blood and violence, anxiety, sensory issues and hypersensitivity and PTSD A/N: divider by @firefly-graphics

Sometimes, your hands shake.

You’ve got a tender heart, people would say; a codename for those who get overwhelmed with the world, with people, with the noise and smells and strange textures and tastes, with emotions; with anxiety.

Your own body, your own damn brain was often your worst enemy. You were your worst enemy and you hated it with passion, especially on days when you somehow had no energy left but for that and spiralling down the void of terror made of your own synapses.

On days like these, like on every other, Bucky holds you, whispering soft words of solace and encouragement into your hair, tender lips and gentle voice, creating a protective bubble of silence and peace, tucked safe and far away from the world.

On days like these, he embraces you closely – unless you cannot bear his love for the moment, despising yourself for it all the more – and helps you put together the pieces of your tender soul you feel have imploded inside of you and suffocate you with every attempt of breath.

He sooths you and promises – begs, in truth – to keep you. Loving you,

ever so softly,

reminding you that you can choose and do the same and until you do, he will. For both of you.

And on some days, you do too.

Sometimes, Bucky’s hands shake.

It is a funny little glitch, he supposes, once he has the capacity to be sardonic with himself, which is always; his metal hand, science perfected, precious chunk of vibranium crafted to faultless functionality on engineerism, and it trembles as much as his flesh hand.

Bucky Barnes is an old man; a reborn man, haunted by an army of ghosts and undead. Doctors in his old days called it shellshock; the fancy modern name for it is PTSD.

Some days, images of blood, violence and death run on the silver screen of his mind like the most messed-up horror flick, following him through day and seeping into his nights, sleepless; or worst, consumed by nightmares than never end, because they are memories of his own actions.

His soul weighs too much to bear, drenched with blood and guilt that no penance can wash away.

Sometimes, you help with the cleanse despite it.

You take his shaking hands – sometimes his very own, sometimes the glorified invention attached to his body – and lead him to the living room where on the shelves stand his little treasures; one supposedly beautiful thing next to another, small wooden statues he had carved himself, rough around the edges but otherwise delicate, a reflection of his gentle torn soul. You do not speak a word, you do no point, letting him see what you see. To make him see that what he only perceives as a pair of hands soaked in blood and wrongdoings, had made good and beautiful too.

And even in the dead of night, you walk him to the most special room of the house, of your home, his steps hesitant, but his heart too weak to resist. Helpless and already yearning, he can never say no.

In those no longer trembling hands, you gently place the most precious thing he has had a generous hand in creating, with utmost love.

Tears burning in his eyes, he cradles your baby, his baby, to his chest with one arm, his other curling around you, pressing you to his side, lips attached to your temple. You linger in your embrace until his tears of grief and guilt turn into ones of acceptance and happiness.

Because he loves and he is loved,

ever so softly

and every beat of his heart, your heart and his child’s, promise him that despite all the pain, everything will be okay.

I hope you enjoyed the little angst but with a sweet note in the end for a change🥰

Thank you for reading and @murdock-and-the-sea for sending 💕

[rafesgoldrings]

Vibrations R.C

Warning: choking, overstimulation, reader is tied up, Rafe calls the reader a slut, one singular face slap, dom Rafe, 18+ only

A/N: small little drabble to slowly ease my way back into writing longer fics again

Rafe coming home after a long day at work expecting to find you on the couch where you usually sit and wait for him, but you’re not there. He thinks maybe you’ve gone to bed early, maybe you were taking a bath, but then he hears moaning coming from your bedroom and smirks. You’d been told very strictly no touching yourself without permission, and he definitely didn’t give you fucking permission. He slowly walks to the door and leans against the frame with his arms crossed, he sees you on the bed, legs spread wide and holding your favorite vibrator against your clit, head thrown back against the pillows, mouth hung open as small moans and cries slipped out, it was hot…but you’d broken his rule.

“Tsk tsk princess, I could have sworn I said no touching without permission” his voice was taunting and unexpected, you’d completely lost track of what time it was. You clamped your legs together and threw the vibrator onto the bed like that was going to make it better.

“R-Rafe, um, you’re home! How was work?” maybe changing subjects would make him forget about you disobeying him.

“It was long, came home expecting to find my pretty girl waiting on the couch like usual, but then I hear these cute little sounds and come in to see you doing something you were told not to” he shakes his head and steps into the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and picking up the toy that was still lowly buzzing.

“Oh, um…” you try to think of anything to say that could make this better. The look in his eyes was a silent warning that nothing good was about to happen to you.

“It’s okay baby, I get it. I was gone for so long and your needy pussy was just aching huh? Couldn’t wait for me to come home and take care of you?” his voice was so gentle and sincere, lulling you into a false sense of security, and his hand cupped your cheek before gently stroking it with his thumb.

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened. I tried to be good but it just hurt so much, I won’t do it again. I promise” you said in relief while flashing him a wide grin.

“Oh baby….I know it won’t happen again” his gentle demeanor and reassuring smile suddenly dropped off his face as one of his hands moved to push your legs apart and the other placed the vibrator against your clit once more.

You let out a small gasp from the sudden feeling, still slightly sensitive from playing with yourself a few minutes prior. The hand that was used to push your legs apart moved to your throat and squeezed tight enough to make your vision blur and moans to come out choked, but not tight enough to make you pass out.

“R-Rafe” you were rapidly coming closer to your orgasm, the vibrations mixed with the pressure on your neck adding to the pleasure. He let out a small chuckle as he watched your eyes roll back in your head and back arch off the bed.

“Come baby, show me how much you missed me” so you did, you came all over the toy while crying out his name and gripping the sheets tightly.

He pulled the toy away and watched as you came down from your orgasm before walking to the closet and pulling out the ropes you bought for his birthday last year as a gag gift. There had never been any real reason to use them, neither of you had ever seen the point in it and honestly you thought he’d forgotten about them. You watched with wide eyes as he threw them on the bed before grabbing one ankle and tying it to the bed post, quickly doing the same to the other before moving up to where your head was.

“You remember the safe word right baby?” you nod your head and he smiles “Good, use it if you need to stop and we will. Otherwise i’m going to fucking ruin you and that pretty pussy”

He secured your wrists and moved down to your pussy, picking up the vibrator again and holding it to your clit. He increased the speed this time and watched your body jerk in reaction, smirking at the way you struggled against the ropes and whined. He could tell you were already close again and slid two fingers inside of you, groaning at how you clenched around him and soaked his fingers. This time, he didn’t pull the vibrator away. He turned it up even more and continued holding it in place.

“Raf-e, it’s, oh fuck, it’s t-too mu, ooh, too much” you cried out, but the toy remained where it was. You looked down at him and saw the wide smirk on his face and his dark glazed over eyes and knew you were fucked.

“Oh is it?” he frowned “Is it too much for you? I thought you wanted to cum baby. This pussy was too fucking needy to wait for me, so you’re going to keep coming until you tap out or I decide you’re done. Understand me?” too lost in your own pleasure to form words, you nodded.

Crack

Your eyes shot open at the sudden force on your cheek, Rafe only pouted at you “Answer me slut. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes. I understand” he cooed a ‘good girl’ at you before kissing the spot on your cheek his hand just slapped. Your third orgasm washing over you and bringing you to the verge of blacking out.

But that didn’t matter, you hadn’t said a safe word and Rafe hadn’t decided you had cum enough, so he would keep going. That proved to be true as he turned the vibrator up even more and pulled the hood of your clit up so the vibrator was directly buzzing against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His hand once again moved to wrap around your throat.

“I’m going to ruin you baby, you won’t ever think twice about playing with yourself without permission again”

Tag List: @outerbankspov @sweetestdesire @madelynie @congratsloserr @xyzstar @lcvelylies @proactivetypaperson @dreamingwithrafe @luvagirlsworld

[writella]

hi, sweetie! Hope you’re doing well. I just had the cutest thought that I wanted to share. And maybe if you want to add on to it as a drabble or something please feel free:) if not, then please just enjoy todays shower thoughts lol.

I’m thinking about a friends with benefits! reader and Daryl who find themselves travelling by canoe for whatever reason. And how they might get into some petty argument or even play fight that ends with them flipping the boat and the two of them just stand in the water, soaking wet and staring blankly at eachother with disappointment. Bangs sticking to your both your foreheads as the canoe slowly floats down the river along with all your dignity.

Take care! xoxo

Rocking the Boat

Synopsis: Daryl has been back home for weeks; the first attack against the Sanctuary is complete; Alexandria, the Kingdom, and the Hilltop are on their way to freedom; but nothing is the same as it was, especially not with you and Daryl. Maybe a house boat side quest will break the ice, or really, make some waves.

Details: This is set during the beginning of season 8, it includes violence, smut, a fwb relationship but feelings are involved, mutual pining, a little bit of switch Daryl and reader, and some sweetness because I think it’s just my thing at this point. ♡

A/N + Response: Hello, lovely miss T ♡ what a fun idea!! I love the imagery you set with the canoe tipping over, especially the bangs so cute— it was one of my favorite parts to write here! This is probably a bit unrealistic and much longer than I intended, so I think I might consider this a full one-shot as well as a concept, and… it’s also a bit sad? Just a little until we get to the good stuff, I promise ;) Anyway I hope you like it; let me know what you think!!

Daryl sat on Rick’s porch, his back against the poles, reloading his guns as you sped up the steps, “I think we should go back to the boats. Now.” Your voice was hurried, you had run all the way from your house, but he didn't even look up at you.

“Why would we do somethin’ stupid like that?” His voice was low, and annoyed. You didn’t expect to be greeted kindly, but at least he sounded like anything other than emotionless to you since the first time you saw him again; since the time he escaped the Sanctuary.

“There’s no one there. I saw it before I got back home. There were people with guns sitting outside the first time we saw it, but now there aren't.”

“A couple of guns ain’t gonna help us.”

“There had to have been a reason they were guarding it before.” Your words were urgent and your eyes pleaded for him to look up. “Any amount of guns could make the difference, Daryl. You know that.” You stare at him, waiting for nothing as he doesn’t respond. “Did you and Rick even find anything before you got back?” You cross your arms, “Cause it doesn’t look like it. And I think I just did.”

You had gotten separated from the group after the first attack against the Sanctuary: you ran without thinking, just trying to get away from the army of walkers stampeding the place. Straying off the usual path to Alexandria, you accidentally reencountered a place you and Daryl only saw once before. It was a time before Negan, before the Saviors. But now, remembering their jackets, and their weapons, and how their bikes looked parked at the shore, you realized those were three Savior cabin boats— fairly sized, a bit rusty, they had a shack like feel, but it was big enough to stand and sleep in. Maybe something of use could be in there, and at least it was something to do while you waited for the final attack.

Similar to Rosita and Michonne, you also got hurt by the scavengers— day zero of the war, when Sasha died— but the girls left you here, they didn’t even tell you they were going, you didn’t even see them leave. But you needed to get out too; you needed to help. “I’m going with or without you.” Your anger started bubbling at his indifference, “And I saw you talking to Tara, I know you’re planning something, so if you want to go off with her and complete your idiot side plan-”

“You’re the one with the dumbass plan.”

“- then that’s fine!” You glare at him, his eyes still so evasive, it infuriates you. “My objective is to find more weapons, before the final attack.” You lied, you both knew your objective was to rest before the final attack, “So I’m gonna go do that.”

You begin to walk briskly. You knew he was going to try to stop you. You knew he was going to come with you when he realized, yet again, he couldn’t stop you, or… you hoped he couldn’t… Sometimes you forget how much stronger he is than you. You had a smart mouth and you knew how to get a reaction out of him, or at least you did in the past, but he could pinned you down with one hand, making you completely immobile— it’s happened before. The thought makes you walk faster, heading for the nearest car. You were trying to make a point although you weren’t sure what it was. You were just tired of sitting around, tired of his treatment— mistreatment, actually. You knew he had reason to act curtly, what he went through was unspeakable, but you were still there for him, waiting, but he never came to you. Not even late at night. Not even to simply sleep.

Just as you’re about to reach the car you feel his hand wrap around your arm, you almost let it yank you. Your breath is a heavy mix of fear and excitement as he does so. Maybe you finally got something out of him. Maybe you still have it. Maybe you still have him. “We don’t got time for this,” he hissed. Then his jaw clenched, it almost looked like he was chewing on something, “but you’re forgetting the boat.”

“It’s a canoe.” You were pushing it with the retort, he was coming.

He grunts as he lets go of your arm, it slapping down to your side. You wait for him by the car as he retrieves the canoe and paddles from one of the house garages. You guys had found it a long while ago, never knowing when it would be of use. That time was now.

The ride toward the waterfront was irritable and depressing to say the least. You wanted to be around Daryl, you wanted to stop him from going off plan with Tara, but most importantly, you just wanted to talk to him; finally and for once. You all were on the biggest missions of your life, in the biggest war of your life… who knows where your fates would lie after this, but he has yet to say anything to you that didn’t involve fighting the Saviors, and even with that, he didn’t say much. He wanted to win. He was ready to do it fast. Whatever it took. That was all.

He kept shifting in his seat, short, low grunts coming out of the side of his mouth— he didn’t want to do this right now, but he knew you were just as stubborn as him, especially when it came to him. As dumb as he felt this was, it wasn’t time for another person he cares about to get hurt.

“Stop fuming,” you muttered.

He snapped back, barking your name, “We’re in a war! We could be doin’ better things right now and got me here for what?”

“Maybe so you don’t kill people we need alive right now?” You were talking about Dwight, you did more than just see Daryl talking to Tara.

His following grunt truly said typical. “You always got your nose where it don’t belong.”

You ignore him, “We should follow Rick’s plan.”

He shakes his head, ignoring you this time. He’s tired of talking about this. He’s going to go on the boat, see if there’s weapons, get Tara, and use whatever you two find to complete his own plan at the Sanctuary. This needs to be done.

“At least it’s a little over 5 miles off the out-post the Kingdom took out,” you reason, “that must be why no one is there anymore.”

Still no response. Typical, it’s your turn to think it. You let go of talking to him for now. The rest of the drive was silent as well as when you get to your destination, starting to put the canoe on water.

You look at the three small, now unguarded, boats. Only one bike was by the land and there was blood splattered on the middle house, the biggest one. Maybe the Kingdom took out the guy that was there, but there were no boats or canoes around, no way for someone to get close enough inside.

You two get in, starting to row. “There better be somethin’ good in there,” Daryl huffed. You hoped so too. Uncertainty started filling in with the reality of your awful plan. There really could be nothing in there and you really could have spent your day doing something that mattered to the cause. If these boats held anything important, why wasn’t a Savior there already? But even worse, the realization that you were acting out of desperation just because Daryl had been acting so cold… felt even more terrible.

You knew Daryl was scarred, far more than before and you were trying to be patient. You were going to let him come to you. You knew he needed time, and he was at the Kingdom for a little bit anyway, hiding out from Negan. You couldn’t even talk to him if you wanted to because of that. But now you had been planning that first attack for weeks, you were sleeping in the same place together again, but not in the same room, not touching. And again, you understood why, but then again… you didn’t. It was so hard to gain his trust, for him to open up to you, you thought that was something you gained for keeps; but now he wasn’t even allowing you to have a friendship anymore, let alone this in-between relationship you used to have. It made you upset how much power you realized you let him have over you. You missed him so much, and now you weren’t even sure if he missed you back, or if he had reason to. Maybe it was just a fling after all.

War feels long, but it’s only a short time in truth. Nonetheless, a short time that can define who you are thereafter. This could be him, and maybe it always was. And this could be how you two will always be. Forever.

You decide to break the silence again as you row, your thoughts becoming insufferable: “That’s actually not the right technique,” you stutter, “if- if you’re curious.” You start to row based on what you taught yourself, the canoe going just a bit faster now, “I read it in a book from Deana’s old library.”

“So you read somethin’ in a book and now you think you know everything?” His eyes were annoyed. “Hmph.”

Your voice raises, “Well just because you’re so experienced in the wilderness or whatever doesn’t mean you know everything either.”

“I’m doin’ it fine.” He wasn’t. “You don’t even know how to swim.” You didn’t. “So maybe just be glad you ain’t dying today.”

You repeat yourself, “Still- doesn’t- mean- you know how to do everything… You expect me to think Merle took you canoeing? Of all things?” You cock your head, “Pretty sure he was out finding the next score.” You knew it was a low blow to bring up the dead brother, but you were upset. No talking and now insults? You could be cold too, even colder, even if you didn’t like it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

Then you screamed. A walker with gills, swimming in the water approached your boat behind Daryl. Your voice made him turn around to see it. You take your paddle to try to stab it in the head, but the walker’s hands are along the canoe rim, coming closer to you, it makes you accidently hit Daryl with your swing. “Oh- Sorry!”

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“I’m sorry!” A realization comes, “Is this the guy?”

“If it was he’s been dead for a while.” Daryl shouts, taking out his gun and you take out your knife. He’s trying to shoot the walker in the head, it’s closer to your side now. But you’re thrashing and water is flying while you try to jab them in the head with your knife. The walker has one of your arms and you’re trying to pry it away with the hand that has the knife. Neither of you have a clear shot at getting the thing, all three of you rocking the canoe far too much.

“Stay still!” He yells at you.

“Im trying!” You shout with the same force, the same annoyance, “He’s not making it easy, Daryl!”

Daryl has a chance to shoot the walker in the stomach, and he takes it, but it does nothing. The walker’s hands on you do not quit. The two of you just keep yelling at each other, riling the walker up. You can hear the biting sounds they’re making near your arm.

He shoots again, but you and the walker are still moving too much and Daryl’s loosing balance. The walker is tipping the canoe with their hands, water splashing inside. The next bullet goes into the wood, making a hole.

Their starving mouth continues to try to bite at you. You pull using all your strength to get their mouth away, trying to use your other hand to slice into their head. You two have never seen a walker like this: they can swim and they’re so strong.

Water now fills the boat from the hole as Daryl moves forward on the canoe, pushing your head, his hand quite literally covering your whole face to shove you out of the way, getting a clear shot at the walker and firing at their head. He clicks twice: Boom. Boom. Guts and water fly everywhere.

The splashing of the water and the firing of his gun overwhelms all your senses. The weight of Daryl is on your side now, neither of you have balance; both your weights pull the canoe over the edge as it flips over entirely with you under it.

You scream, but your voice is muffled. You thrash around, trying to use what little experience you have. You come above water for a few seconds, wailing, and Daryl grabs you.

“Hey- Hey- Hey!” his words snap, rough like barks until he gets you to look at him, gripping your face so it’s forward. “It’s okay,” he’s breathing almost as heavy as you are. His voice becomes even now, “It’s okay.” You realize he has you in his arms— it really was okay.

Feeling he might make a comment about you almost drowning, you force yourself to speak through water filled lungs, “Don’t. Say it.”

So he didn’t. He just holds you tight, you even feel his thumbs squeezing into you at the waist now, and through half lidded eyes, you see his arms tense, working hard to make sure you never fall, but it’s at a half arm's length, his elbows bent. You blink rapidly, your wet eyelashes still flapping shut until you’re able to open them better. You can see Daryl more clearly now.

You try to swipe some of the hair out of your face. The baby hairs at the crown of your forehead stayed slick in place while some parts of your hair started to lightly form your wave or curl pattern, but in all, you were absolutely drenched.

Your hands now hold onto his forearms just as tight as his below. It was one of those rare moments where you remember just how blue his eyes are. Their narrow shape and the way his hair lays always hides them away. But the sun was behind you, casting its light directly on him and his hair was now slick to his head as well: only some of it resting on his forehead.

If someone were to describe Daryl’s looks, they would probably say something typical like dark and rugged. They don’t see what you see. God, you forgot how uniquely handsome he was.

His hair changed colors in the light, it wasn’t as dark brown anymore, flecks of it were a more golden brown in the sun. And you loved the mole that was just above his lip and facial hair. Almost no one else in the group had something like that. And now, there was the way his button down stuck onto his skin. The color was dark enough that it wasn’t see-through, but you saw every indent, every line of his bicep and tricep as you looked at his arms, trying to avoid his face, trying to avoid his chest or anywhere lower.

On the other hand, Daryl was trying even harder to avoid looking at your soaked body, failing even worse. His eyes couldn’t help but linger on how your chest huffed as you tried to catch your breath. Your collarbones are now exposed as your shirt slides down just a bit further, the light color almost see through because of the water, and your bra didn’t help much either. It was one of those without the padding, it was the only one that fit— your supplies, food and wearable, clean clothing, were running dangerously low at home. The thin material of both top garments showed how your nipples perked up now. And the way he had to grasp tightly on the smalls of your waist, feeling your stomach inhale and exhale as you calmed yourself down didn’t help either. It was like he felt your hold body moving… similar to a way he used to feel it.

It all makes him realize now how he hasn’t gotten the courage to look at you directly in the longest. God, he forgot how pretty you are. How lovely it was to hold you. Even if it was to escape death.

Your eyes are so big as you hold on tightly to his arms, you’re still shaken up. Trying to paddle your feet like you’ve seen on tv and in videos in the past. It’s adorable.

He didn’t dare look any longer, but part of him wondered if you were looking at him the same way. And you were. Specifically, the way you could see every line and ripple of his abdomen with his button up now glued to his body. As you let your eyes trail just a bit more form his arms, you noticed how magnified his chest looked, how his nipples were just as pert as yours.

It all made you feel something warm down below and it made something inside him twitch, but this wasn’t the time. He had been feeling so many things since he returned that he didn’t even know which ones to act upon first, so he reverted back to saying nothing, or at least nothing that had to do with how he really felt, how he really felt about you that is.

In the end, “You better hope I can make one of those shits run or we’re fucked,” was all he decided to say.

He moves your hands onto the back sides of his waist and he starts to swim. Your legs are off to the sides and he tells you to kick as he is and hold on tight as he swims you both to the middle boathouse, the one with the blood.

You hold onto the ledge as you finally arrive, allowing Daryl to go in first, checking for walkers at each boat. He does the side ones first. No one is there. Finally, he goes to the middle house: out of all of them, it’s the biggest wreck. The place is filled with pictures, Polaroids, scattered all over the place. It’s of the Saviors. And there’s all kinds of guns scattered on the floor, but he can’t help but to stare at the faces. He knew some of those faces.

You call his name, but he doesn’t respond. “What was in the other two?” You yell for him again, but nothing. You decide to go in the middle one as well, your eyes are amazed by the mess of guns on the floor. There were even ones still hooked up to the wall. There were knives and daggers too. Even glass cases with various bullets, you wondered what they did. Was this the emergency weapons stash? Had you reached it before a Savior could? “Why aren’t you picking this stuff up?” You look up at him impatiently, shaking your head and huffing, you’ll do it yourself you guess.

Daryl continues to look around, picking up a frame. The only framed picture in the boat. It was cracked on the ground: A Polaroid of Negan.

He takes the picture out of the broken glass to look at it closer. As if this wasn’t already the attitude of much of the Saviors, whoever lived and protected this place must have worshiped him. Negan stood proudly in it, his bat on the side of his shoulders, a big rifle strapped around his back on the other. His hair and beard was all black, and that notorious, all encompassing grin plastered his face from ear to ear. Daryl turned the picture over: the words, ‘Negan — The First Savior. My Savior,’ was written on the back.

It fired him up. It made him think of the dark, of that cell, of the food that probably wasn’t even food, when he was kicked and jumped by those Saviors in the parking lot, and that damn song— the saccharine melody would live on in his brain like a siren. There would never be silence inside him again. In fact, there never was. It was only louder now. So loud and so angry he feels it in his throat, traveling to his tongue, beneath his eyes, as he can no longer keep it in anymore; but he tries, and tries, and tries, quietly holding everything in while you keep collecting weapons, putting them in bags you find. The picture crumples in his closing hand, his fist turning red as he grips tightly, ruining the shining paper.

He slides down against the boat wall, sitting on the ground biting his tongue, stopping the feelings until you're done; until you two can leave and he can do what he needs to do. It’ll be without you, without Rick, without anyone. This needs to be done. He’ll do it.

“Daryl,” you call out, not facing him, collecting the bags. “I think I counted 32, but it could be 40… I think there’s smaller ones by the wheel and I didn’t even get the swords yet. If there's about the same number on the other two, there could be maybe over 100 new weapons,” you gasp with disbelief. “Were the other two like this?“

You we’re relieved, you knew it was a dumb plan, but you came out of it with a win; it was worth it. “Daryl, come on-” you turn to him now, “oh.”

You almost couldn’t see his eyes with how much more narrow he made them, they were practically closed and his face was down. You wondered if this was the moment you would first see him cry: his lip quivered, his face was as red as his fists, and he wouldn’t look in your direction, his head was basically to the wall as you started to walk to him.

Your movements are slow as you kneel down to the corner in which he sat. You place fingers along his jaw until your whole hand wraps around the area. Your strokes are gentle, feeling the bristles of his beard on your palm. He had been so angry since he returned, hell bent on war and death, but you remembered… he must have also been so sad, so depressed too. Poor boy, you thought. Poor boy, you forgot; in some ways, he still was just a boy.

You turn his cheek to face you, but his eyes don’t dare meet yours as a few tears start rolling out. Your own emerge too. It’s heartbreaking to see him like this.

You put your forehead to his, your nose rubbing against his own, “I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You come even closer. Your lips lightly touch his, you’re tentative at first, not knowing if it was right, but then you feel his brush against yours just as light. You decide to move in, your lips parting his own as you kiss him.

Your tongue goes into his mouth, your hand raising his chin, you’re so delicate. He holds your shoulder, you lean into his bent body and your other hand slides against his chest. You’re both still wet and cold, but his heart beats warmly.

His head leans up against the wall as you push yourself further onto his lips. You hold his shoulders and he allows you to slide him down.

You look up at him, your hands on his shirt. This is not how you expected today to go. “Is this okay?” You ask softly. His nod is just as soft, you almost don’t see it, but his hands are lightly on top of your own as you unbutton his shirt, he lets you. It’s okay.

He’s unbuckling his belt now, pushing his pants down and your top goes over your head. He starts to unbutton your own jeans. It’s quiet except for your breaths, and the clinking of belts, and the undoing of zippers.

You pull him out a little more from the corner so you can straddle him. You start grinding your hips down into him and he pushes into your clit with his finger, circling it. The bit of warmness you felt below before is now almost pooling out instantly from just the littlest touches. Your back arches, you haven’t felt him in so, so long. You gasp and it accidentally turns into a moan. You’re so needy for it, but you remember: you want to help him.

Your hands move down to his stomach, your lips kiss his neck as your hands travels up to his chest and then back down, you start kissing him everywhere there as you do so, breathing him in, it makes him fidgety, little gruff sounds irruption from his throat, he’s trying to keep it in. Then you got even lower: you kiss down his cock until you’re at the tip. You lick at the pre-cum there. You put just a little bit of him inside your mouth, sucking, stroking the rest of it. His exhale comes out as a shaky gasp, he whimpers slightly.

Finally, you move back up and line yourself up with him, sinking down slowly as you look him in the eyes. You can’t help it, you start to ride him immediately thereafter. The stretch feels so good and so big and full as if you’ve never felt him before. Your moan is light and airy, you missed him. And he groans, “-ugh, fuck” and moans, “uh- mm- argh,” right after you do so. He missed you. You know that now, it makes you smile.

You lean up against him slightly. His mouth parted and you speak into it, your breast brushing against him as you rolled onto him, your stomached touching a bit. “I’ve got you,” you pant into his mouth, he’s panting too, “always.”

He holds onto your hips as you go faster, you’re holding onto his shoulders. “Does it feel good?” You kiss him right after you ask, his tongue going to the top of your mouth, sliding in wet and deliciously, it’s everything you’ve waited for. He hums into you as a response. You feel his dick twitch as your pussy grips on him tighter.

You feel like you both could be close until he starts kissing you more fiercely. His tongue only slipping in slightly as he pecks your lips, he bites down slightly, then kissing you deeply again. Then he turns you over. You’re under him now. His hands go right by your ears, flat on the ground and he thrusts into you. Hard. It almost hurts, you can’t lie. He’s grunting, short and quick, but his rasp, and his hair flying as he quickens the pace, and the fact that pain is slowly turning into pleasure… you’re fine with it. If this is what he needs, you’re fine with it.

His next grunt is almost a yell, it’s like a battle cry. He’s angry and you know it. You hold onto his flex arms tenderly, caressing him, silently telling him you’re there, but you allow him to continue.

His movements are faster now. More irate. His body comes closer to yours, but his movements do not stop their force. His thrusts feels like poundings, you feel like the floor is moving, maybe the boat is rocking, the bags jump with it.

He looks at your screwed shut eyes as one of his hands comes to touch your chest. Trailing your breast, then to the bottom of your stomach, staying there, pressing down, feeling himself inside of you has he shoves himself up and in, he’s deep, so deep. “Mmm,” You’re whining now, “-uuh.” It makes his eyes lighten, he’s humming, low and gruff and continuous, stuttering into you, eyes open waiting to see you come so then he can. It’s right there for him, but he wants to see you, he needs it.

Your moan mixes into a whine, “Daryl please,” you beg, “Daryl please- it’s- it’s too much, it hurts,” it makes him go even faster, and he can’t help himself as he comes in you first, sighing as he does so, but it’s exactly what you need to come undone yourself.

You grab the back of his neck, holding it close to you as you squeeze your arms around him and he does the same to your waist.

You both try to calm your breaths, “Never leave me again,” you say into his ear, breathing roughly. “Please.”

“Never.” He looks at you right in the eye when repeats it, “Never.” He wipes the tears from your face as you both nod, affirming a new promise to each other. “We’ll win. Together.”

After laying for a few moments, just looking at each other, he goes to the bathroom to find a washcloth, warming it with water, helping you clean up. He takes your hand so you can start doing it yourself and he kisses your forehead before he starts to get dressed. “I’ll be back.”

Soon enough, you hear the engine in the front start to rev up. He got it to work.

“You can drive a boat?”

“Gonna learn.” He turns to you, pulling you in front resting your hands on the wheel while he stands behind, his arms over your own. “We both are.”

[brotherwtf]

Gale meeting John's family drabble bcs I'm obsessed with his family dynamic

----

Gale nervously wrung his hands together in the passenger seat of John's truck, only really looking up from the road when John would point to some obnoxious billboard or a funny looking bird. Gale would smile and nod, reply with a dry quip, and fall silent again. He usually wasn't like this.

John had told Gale that his mother invited them up to stay at their house for a little bit; wanted to see how they were adjusting to life post war and wanted to meet the notorious Buck Cleven. Gale had worried that John had let slip what they were, much closer than friends, but John assured him that she didn't know.

"She probably wouldn't even care. Poor old bird just wants to see me happy, all things considered," John had said.

And here Gale was, going to meet John's family and put on a good show of pretending to be friends. John mentioned that his mother was still alive, his father passed before he enlisted, and that he had two older sisters.

"Technically El is my twin, but she's fifteen minutes older and won't ever let me forget it. I'm the baby of my family," John says, turning onto a long gravelly drive that must lead to his family's property.

Gale smiles gently at the thought. John with missing teeth and a bright smile with equally bright sisters around him. Doting on him like Gale always did. Gale never had any siblings, lived only with his mother and father, and wished desperately that John's sisters liked him.

They pull in front of a charming ranch house and Gale smiles at how quaint it is. A modest two floor house painted a calming blue with pristine white shutters and a bright yellow door. Gale swallows thickly and his hands find each other again. John leans over into Gale's space, placing a hand on both of Gale's and kissing his cheek sweetly.

"Relax, Gale, they'll love you, I promise," John says.

Gale gives him a strained smile and sighs.

"What if they don't?" Gale worries.

John only smiles, eyes flicking to the sunny yellow door.

"Trust me, they like anything with a pulse. You might just have to be the devil incarnate for them to hate you. Speaking of..." John says, eyes now trained on the door.

It flies open with a whirlwind of brown hair and bright smiles. Two women scramble out to the truck, shouting at John and asking what took him so long. The one with longer hair practically yanks John from the drivers seat and sizes him up.

"Baby Bucky is decorated like a goddamn hero!" She crows and Gale smiles with how similar their cadence of voices were.

"I'm no baby, I'm a major!" John squawks and his sister just laughs, pushing his arm playfully.

"You're still a baby to me!" She hollars.

They both now turn to Gale, the shiny new object that John brought for them to play with.

"You must be Buck!" The other shouts with equal enthusiasm.

Gale had quietly gotten out of the car and was just observing John and his sisters catch up, when their eyes suddenly trained on him. He smiles nervously, afraid of being in the spotlight.

"Major Gale Cleven, ladies," Gale says, extending his hand out for a cordial handshake.

They both bat it away and bring Gale in for a hug anyway. God, they even smell like John did.

"My name's Jess, and that's El," The one with the long hair says, jabbing her thumb into her sister's stomach.

El laughs, shoving Jess away and they get into a playful slap fight that Gale can't help but laugh at.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Gale says, hauling his bag from the back of John's trunk.

El turns around and gives John a look of genuine surprise.

"How did you convince this sweetheart to mingle with the likes of you?" She balks.

John is by Gale's side now and throws his arm around his shoulder, bringing him in closer to his waist.

"Must be my stunning good looks," John beams and Jess almost throws something at him.

They walk into the house and Gale allows himself to take it all in. It's the perfect house for children, Gale thinks; large kitchen with a living room and a large radio on the windowsill. It's wallpapered with soothing colors and warmly lit. Gale genuinely liked the place.

"Gonna bunk with me, Buck?" John asks, wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.

El intercepts them before they get to Johns room.

"Nuh uh, you got Buck all afternoon I want to get to know him," El says, grabbing Gale by the arm and attempts to take him down the stairs.

Gale looks back at John and just shrugs his shoulders.

"Duty calls," He says, and John throws him a wink.

Jess and El give him a tour of the house and Gale compliments when necessary, making sure to turn the charm up to eleven. They walk into the kitchen and Gale is immediately hit with the scent of fresh cooked food. There are already dishes waiting on the counter and Gale is dumbfounded.

"Is this all for me?" Gale asks, and he can feel tears welling in his eyes. He had never been this spoiled in his life, not even by his family.

"Ma's even making you a pie! Jesus where is that woman, MA!!" Jess shouts, peeking her out out into the living room.

John's mother is clearly where they got all of their looks from, Gale still hasn't seen a photo of John's father so he can only assume, all of the girls are practically a carbon copy of her. She has pale, green eyes that crinkle with crows feet when she smiles, wavy brown hair laced with grey, and the same smile Gale has seen in all of the Egan children.

"I hope Elise and Jessica aren't giving you a hard time, come here darling," She says, voice quivering with age and arms extended wide.

Gale wraps a careful arm around her and almost cries at the feeling. His mother almost never hugged him like this.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Egan. I thank you for letting me stay in your home," Gale says.

Mrs. Egan waves him off, pinching Gales cheek and smiling.

"Ah no Mrs. or Mr's around here, call me Anne," She says, and Gale does so with a smile.

The rest of the afternoon before dinner is El and Jess fussing around in the kitchen with their mother and John showing Gale the property. He kisses him every so often and Gale can't help but giggle; hasn't felt this happy in a long time.

"How you liking the family? They can be a bit much," John asks, linking his and Gale's fingers together.

Gale hums, looking up at the sky and smiling wide as ever.

"They're just like you, how could I not like them?" Gale says and John's smile gets instantly brighter.

They sit by the stream they wandered across and John decides to rest his head on Gale's lap. One of Gales hands lazily tangles in John's hair, massaging his scalp and just bathing in John's presence.

"Do your sisters know? About us?" Gale asks.

John shrugs shifting himself so he's looking up at Gale through wind swept curls. Gale smiles and wipes them away from his forehead.

"I guess they suspect. I would always talk to Jess about boys when I was younger and I think El is queer too, ran away with a girl from the Red Cross as soon as she could," John sighs.

Gale feels a weight get lifted off his shoulders, almost. John's sisters seemed too kind to care about such a trivial thing. But Gale wasn't quite ready to show their love to the world yet.

"Can we keep it quiet? Just between us? I want this to be all ours," Gale says.

John hauls himself up from Gale's lap and nuzzles his nose into his cheek, smiling gently at the way Gales lips turn up into a smile.

"Of course, doll. Just you and me," John says, and places a gentle kiss on Gales lips.

Later at dinner, El and Jess make jokes about marrying Gale themselves while John protests, claiming he found Gale first. Gale can do nothing but laugh and laugh, and he finally feels at home.

woah this was kinda long but I love Johns family (head in hands) they love Gale as much as John does 🥹🥹