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suugarbabe · 1 year

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Unexpected | m.r x reader

prompt: Hii! How are you? This is my first time sending an ask and I just wanted to say that I love your writings! May I ask for a enemies to lovers with Mattheo Riddle? The reader is from the golden trio and they get into an argument with a lot of chemistry and tension. Thank you and I'm sorry for my bad english.

maybe enemies to lovers, like they hate each other and then realize that they are soulmates and then have to figure out what to do. some angst but ends i fluff please

word count: ~3.8k

warnings: slight angst feeling, fluff, e2l, soulmate trope, some heavy petting

an: so there's no argument like the prompt asks (sorry) but when I started writing it just kind of flowed out this way so hopefully it's still okay.

“Go on, show us again,” Ron Weasley was shaking a turkey leg in your general direction, asking to see the words that appeared on your arm this morning. In the wizarding world, on the day you were going to properly meet your soulmate, the first sentence they speak to you, excluding their name, will appear on your forearm in their handwriting.

It was incredibly annoying to you that Ron and Hermione got this mess out of the way the first day on the bloody train. To your and Harry’s amusement, neither were originally excited about the match, but after the chaos that ensued for the four of you by the end of that year they were inseparable. Nothing brings two people closer than tragedy.

Things got even more frustrating for you when Harry and Ginny realized they were soulmates, leaving you the lone wolf in your foursome. Entering your sixth year this year you were hopeful that maybe you would finally be able to find out who your soulmate was, roughly three fourths of those leave Hogwarts knowing who they’re intended to be with, and you would rather Avada Kadavera yourself then leave your seventh year soulmateless.

You grabbed the sleeve of your jumper, tugging it up to your elbow, sticking your arm out in the middle of the table for your three friends to view. There on your arm read a singular sentence, do I intimidate you, love?

Hermione sat back on the bench, “His handwriting really is awful, whoever he is.” You scoffed at your friend, “Not exactly my biggest concern, Mione. More worried about why he thinks he would intimidate me? Who would even think that? By this point in our school life you’d think any of us were more intimidating than the majority of the student body.”

“Yeah, except Slytherin,” Harry snorted, Ron following with his own round of laughter. But you weren’t laughing, you were looking at Hermione who was sporting the same grimace and worried eyes that you were sure your face looked like.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then looked at the two of you. “It was a joke, y/n/n,” Harry tried to ease the tension that was building. “Yeah, I mean, y’don't really think your soulmate might be…one of them,” Ron was anything but subtle with his tone of disgust, as well as his entire body turning around to face the Slytherin table.

Ron’s actions didn’t go unnoticed by a particular group of Slytherin boys. “Staring problem, Weasley? Got a crush?” Malfoy shouted across the dining hall, earning laughs and teasing hollars from his friends.

“Oi, Malfoy, got a present for you,” you stuck your hand in your school bag, pretending to roam around before pulling your hand back out and lifting it high in the air, giving Malfoy the middle finger. His face immediately turned into a scowl. The boy next to him, however, pretended to catch your gesture in the air and put it in his pocket, winking at you in the process.

You rolled your eyes, turning to Hermione who had a look of disgust on her face, “Riddle’s ego really is massive innit.” All three of your friends' heads began to nod. “I swear if he didn’t verbalize how much he bloody hated us I would think he was flirting with you y/n/n.”

“Shut it, Weasley, don’t you put that on me,” you pointed your finger at him, tone joking but words serious. He put his hands up in defense, laughing along with the rest of your friends as you all gathered your things and headed towards your first class.

Unbeknownst to you, a similar conversation was being had at the Slytherin table. “Glad to see meeting your soulmate hasn’t deterred you from trying to flirt with anything that breathes,” Pansy took a sip of her pumpkin juice, teasing the curly haired boy across from her.

“Dunno what you mean, Pans,” the dimples on Mattheo’s cheeks popping out as he smirked.

“Show us your arm again, cousin,” Draco’s words causing everyone to look at Mattheo now. The younger boy scowled, rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt. There on his arm, in beautiful loopy script were the words you’ve got to be fucking joking.

Theo couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a foul word in such pretty handwriting.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeve back down, “Yeah, well let’s just hope the bird is someone I can tolerate.”

You let out a long groan, hands rubbing up and down your face as you leaned your elbows on your knees . Hermione was sat next to you in the common room, rubbing up and down your back, “The day’s not over quite yet, y/n/n. It wouldn’t appear if you weren’t gonna meet them today.”

“Yeah,” Ron put on his best attempt at an encouraging smile, “maybe they’re another Gryffindor and you’ll meet them before we go to bed.” Harry nodded next to him in agreement.

You stood up, grabbing your jumper off the arm of the couch and throwing it on, “M’gonna go for a walk.”

Hermione’s lips downturned, “It’s nearly curfew.” You sighed, looking over at Harry. “I’ll go get my cloak,” he sighed, standing and walking quickly to his dorm room.

After Harry’s return you thanked him, spending an extra twenty minutes convincing Hermione that you would be the utmost cautious and affirmed to Ron that you would stash the cloak if you were to be caught.

Now you were quietly climbing the stairs to the astronomy tower. When you got to the top, you did a quick look over the railing. With no sign of Filch anywhere you dropped the cloak, laying it on the floor so you didn’t have to sit on the bare ground.

As you got comfortable you dug in your shirt, pulling out a spliff. Hermione would murder you if she found out you smoked, however the year you all had to study for your O.W.L’s, you were so stressed you ended up buying from Theo Nott.

He promised to keep it to himself and you promised it was a one time thing, but you found yourself buying from him every couple months. You weren't sure if she would be more disappointed in your smoking, or you interacting with someone in the forbidden Slytherin group.

You mumbled a short incendio before taking a long drag. You blew the smoke out slowly, watching it ripple through the air and up into the night sky. You looked up at the stars, knowing the day was likely to be over soon and wondering if you were the only witch that was destined to not run into their soulmate like everyone else.

You were lost in your thoughts and self pity. So much so you didn’t even hear someone come up the tower steps until they hit the top. You scrambled to your feet, ready to cover yourself with the cloak when you realized it wasn’t Filch, but a boy instead.

The dark of the night made it difficult for you to see exactly who it was at first, that and the fact that every time he took a step forward you seemed to take a step back until your back was against the stone wall. When he finally stepped into the light, your breath caught in your throat. Standing in front of you, signature smirk adoring his face was Mattheo Riddle.

You stayed rigid against the wall as he got closer to you. His fingers brushed yours as he took the spliff, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling. His eyes never left yours as he turned his head slightly, blowing the smoke into the night. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your black sleep shorts and house jumper. When he looked at your face again he locked eyes with you, almost like he was trying to read what was going on in your brain.

“Do I intimidate you, love?” The words seemed to leave his lips without a second thought and you felt like your chest was going to cave in. There was just no way, absolutely bloody not that he said those words, the words you had been anticipating someone to say all day. Him of all people that could’ve spoken them.

He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly looking for you to answer. Instead of some sputtering response of nervousness like Mattheo was expecting, your face just dropped.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Mattheo’s face went white after you responded, and that was all the evidence you needed to confirm that Mattheo fucking Riddle was your soulmate. He hated you. You hated him. How could two people that despise each other be destined to be soulmates?

"What are you even doing up here?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting into your hip. His smirk only seemed to grow, "I think the better question is what are you doing up here, partaking in drugs no less? Little miss golden girl."

You rolled your eyes, "What's that supposed to mean, Riddle?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, "It's Mattheo. And you know what it means. Wonder what everyone would think if they knew little miss perfect liked to come up to the astronomy tower to get high."

"Why would anyone believe you over me?" You were acting a little cocky now, but Mattheo was right in the aspect that you and your friends were seen in an overall more positive light than he and his.

However the look on Mattheo's face made you think he knew something you didn't, "I guess I could just have your dealer tell everyone, or are you buying from someone besides Nott these days?"

He was irritating you on purpose now. You grabbed the spliff back from Mattheo, going to sit where you were before but now leaning your forehead against the railing, “This is got to be some kind of mistake.”

Mattheo could only snicker as he went to sit next to you, hanging his arms over the raining as he looked over the grounds, “S’destiny love, no mistake about it.”

“Thanks so much, you’re being really encouraging about this whole thing,” you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out to him. He took it from you, filling his lungs with smoke again, passing it back and forth throughout the conversation.

Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, “At least we’re both fit.” You snorted at this, “Who said I thought you were fit?” He scoffed, “Please, I’ve seen the way you ogle me.” You found yourself laughing, a true full belly head thrown back laugh before you looked at him and he thought the smile you were wearing was actually kind of cute, “How would you know that unless you were ogling me, hmm?”

Mattheo opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse before you were speaking again. The sigh you let out let him know how stressed you really were, “Our friends are not going to like this.”

He nodded, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke, “Merlin, no. They’re going to bloody hate it. But s’not like it was really our choice.” You knew he was right, and you knew he was trying to be comforting, but the tone in his voice let you know that he was just as worried to let his group of friends know as much as you were.

You opened your mouth to respond to him when you heard the all too familiar jingle of Mrs. Norris’ collar sounding like she was ascending the stairs. Your eyes grew wide as you and Mattheo both jumped to your feet. It looked like Mattheo is contemplating jumping over the tower railing when you grab his arm to push him flat against the stone wall.

He looked at you with utter confusion as you grabbed the cloak before turning around and pushing your back flush against his chest. “What are you-”

“Shut it,” you cut him off, indicating to him to wrap his arms around your waist as you threw the cloak over the pair of you. As the cat walked on to the tower landing you felt Mattheo’s arms tighten around you, doing his best to pull you impossibly closer.

He was decently taller than you, having to duck down slightly so the cloak covered you both properly. His face was tucked in close to your neck. His breath warm and tickling your skin as Filch followed after his beloved pet, glancing around for anything out of place.

When he was satisfied, Filch turned around to leave, letting his cat lead the way. You waited a few beats, making sure they were nearly to the bottom of the staircase before pulling the cloak off the two of you and pushing Mattheo’s hands off of your body.

“Thing comes in handy, that,” he pointed to the cloth in your hand. You chucked, “Yeah, m’sure your lot would get a lot less detentions if you had one.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we can’t all be like the golden quartet.”

You scoffed slightly at this as you headed down the stairs, Mattheo close behind you, “We didn’t give ourselves that nickname, you know.” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah but m’sure you all don’t mind it. Definitely gets you some favoritism.”

You stopped at the end of the corridor, Mattheo running into your back at the action and cursing. You turned to face him, “You know, my friends and I have endured a hell of a lot of shite over the last couple years, maybe we deserve a little break when we’re actually able to do normal bloody teenage things.”

As much as you were trying to be harsh with him, be the slightest bit intimidating, his height gave him all the advantage. Mattheo knew what you meant, what you were saying without saying the words themselves. “I’m not like him. Don’t clump me in your same category of hatred. He’s done things to me too,” his eyes reflected a bit of hurt as he spoke and you knew he was telling the truth.

Everyone in school assumed Mattheo was just like his father, held the same ideals and wanted the same things for the wizarding world. The look you were seeing on his face told you otherwise. Your frustration quickly fizzled, instead turning into something closer to pity, “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he deadpanned, “Let’s just get back to our common rooms.” You walked together in silence until you had no choice but to split off. You agreed to meet each other in the courtyard during lunch the next day and you were racking your brain on how you were going to break this news to Harry, Hermione and Ron.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. When you broke the news to your friends about who your soulmate ended up being it wasn’t exactly well received. Hermione was worried, but understanding of the fact that you had no choice in the matter. Harry was upset, but again was trying his best to be mature and said he wouldn’t interfere with you spending some time with Mattheo to get to know him better. Ron took it the worst, which you wished surprised you but he did have a flair for the dramatics.

You were first waiting for Mattheo on a bench in the courtyard, but you couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing, therefore you found a place beneath a tree, attempting to read the same three lines of a book Hermione had loaned you the other day.

When Mattheo found you and finally sat down next to you, you shut your book immediately, letting out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank Godric, you’re here.” It didn’t go unnoticed by you the way a pair of dimples christened his cheeks, “Miss me already, pretty girl? S’barely been twelve hours.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying to resist the pink that tinted your cheeks at the nickname he used, “Not at all, I’ve been sitting here for the better part of twenty minutes, mind you. Thought maybe you decided to ditch me.” Mattheo shrugged, “M’always late. You’re gonna have to get used to that. And I would never ditch you, we’re soulmates, love. You’re stuck with me for life.”

He had a childlike grin on his face when he said that latter part and you couldn’t help the slight notion of butterflies that seemed to flutter in your stomach or the smile that appeared on your face.

All last night you thought it was going to be difficult to fall for Mattheo, but maybe the universe knew something when it paired you two together.

“So how did your friends take the news?” You tried to keep voice neutral, but you really were worried about their responses. Mattheo leaned back against the tree, “They were shocked for sure, Draco took it the hardest. He was more worried about having to spend more time with Potter than me being with you though. Told him that would probably be more rare than he anticipated. W’bout yours?”

You nodded, “Not as bad as I thought, actually. Mione was understanding, as always. Harry was actually pretty good about it, but very skeptical. Ron actually took it the worst, but he’s just protective. Basically like me brother.”

“How d’ya mean?”

You leaned back against the tree yourself, shoulder to shoulder now with Mattheo. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and you wondered if his skin was always warm to the touch, “Both my parents are aurors so they travel a lot. They didn’t think it was safe for me to go with them, so Ron’s mum offered for me to stay at theirs whenever it was needed. Turns out it was needed more times than not growing up.”

Mattheo nodded, listening intently as you spoke. You both started asking surface questions about each other; favorite color (he said black), favorite hobby (quidditch), favorite class (free period).

When both your friend groups came looking for you after lunch period Mattheo asked if you would go to Hogsmead with him over the weekend. You agreed, finding yourself wanting to get to know more about him. Over the next two months you went to Hogsmead with Mattheo at least one day during each weekend.

You slowly learned that his favorite candy was fizzing whizbees, having to stop at Honeydukes every trip for him to grab some. You learned that he was actually very intelligent even though he tried to seem like he wasn't, as he was passing all of his classes even though he skipped half of them. You learned that even though Draco was older than him, he felt like an older brother to his cousin. And maybe your favorite thing that you learned, purely on accident, was that if you squeeze just above his hip that he was incredibly ticklish.

Throughout all of this you still hadn’t kissed. You kept telling yourself (and your friends) that you didn’t want to, but the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for it. There were times of lingering touches; his hand on your lower back as he guided you into a building, his fingertips brushing yours as you walked, his leg pressing against yours while you sat next to each other in the courtyard or at the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione, the ever observant friend that she was, noticed your shift in attitude towards Mattheo even before you did. So when she cornered you in the common room, demanding you tell her your true feelings it was almost a relief to let it all out.

“I think I might actually like him, Mione. Like, I know that sounds like something an insane person would say, that they like Mattheo Riddle, like romantically, like someone who isn’t just some daft bimbo, but there's just so much more to him that he lets people see.”

Hermione can’t help but laugh, “I get what you mean. Harry and Ron are coming around, you know. They see how happy you look when you’re with him.”

You tilt your head slightly at this, “What do you mean how happy I look?”

Hermione just shakes her head with a smile, “Like you’re with your person.” You can’t escape the blush that creeps up your neck and covers your cheeks. Hermione’s giggling at you now, “Have you still not kissed him yet?”

You scoffed, “Godric, no.” She pushed your shoulder playfully, “Well why not, y/n/n? Don’t you want to?”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers, “I mean…I think so? But he just hasn’t really…gone for it, you know?”

She nodded in solidarity, “Oh I know, trust me. I had to make the first move with Ronald. Maybe you have to do the same thing?”

You contemplated her words. They invaded a space in your brain for the rest of the night, then the rest of the next morning, and through dinner, and even now as you stood leaning against the railing in the astronomy tower waiting for Mattheo to meet you.

When you heard him coming up the steps you turned only to see him with the sweetest smile on his face. “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted as he enveloped you in a hug. “Hi, Teo,” you had donned the nickname on him your third or so time at Hogsmead. He gave you a good squeeze before letting go, his arms still lingering on your waist with yours around his neck, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

His question was innocent, no implications in his voice that he expected anything beyond you wanting to see him. With Hermione’s advice in the back of your head you knew you needed to just act, as any more talking might lead to you psyching yourself out.

You slid your hands down from his neck, grasping lightly to the lapel of his blazer. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the action, the smallest of smirks on his face.

Without giving yourself time to overthink you pull him into you, lips crashing against yours. He’s shocked at first, but just for a moment before he responds, walking you back until you’re pressed against the stone wall.

One of his hands slides up your body, ghosting over your stomach and the valley of your breasts before settling lightly on your neck. The implication of the hand gesture makes you whimper slightly and Mattheo takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the curls.

When he finally pulls away you find yourself chasing his lips and he smiled at the reaction. “I think I could kiss you forever,” his forehead is resting against yours, lips still so close you can feel his breath on your own. “Yeah?” you laugh a little, smile only increasing when he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Yeah, pretty girl. Forever.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #golden era #harry potter

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confessedlyfannish · 11 months

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #9

"Are you sure about this?" J'onn asks, reading the discontent amongst the Kents. Clark and Lois each have a hand on their teenage son's shoulders, who several weeks prior was aged ten years old.

"We're sure," Clark says. He is not, nor is his wife. But his son is, who lays his hand on his mother's and squeezes. It is that surety that J'onn honors as he delves into the young (but not as young as he should be) man's mind.

The memories are hard to find but not gone, hidden behind what Jon can only see manifested as a glowing green wall. When he raises a tentative hand, the shield sparks green, but does no harm. Pushing through is like wading through the consistency of jello, which he finds an overall unpleasant experience. But he is unharmed as he passes through.

Before J'onn can sort through the memories he is all but sucked into the one at the forefront, where a Jon most similar in visage to the one recently returned perches on the edge of a building. Beside him lies a burger, partially unwrapped though uneaten, and a small soda.

As the memory builds out a sun sets on a small suburban town, and a muscled thigh knocks into Jon's, an older man with a shock of white hair and eyes the same light and color as the shield formed around these memories appearing. He's tall even sitting, likely about as tall as Superman, and looks to be in his thirties. A full body suit comprised of black and silver accents stretches across broad shoulders, a stylized D on his chest. He knocks his thigh into Jon's again.

"You said I couldn't go back," Jon says quietly.

"I lied," the man says lightly.

"You're lying now," Jon says, glaring at him. "I can hear your heart."

"Nice try, kiddo, I don't have a heart in this form," the man says, reaching a hand out, presumably to ruffle his hair. Jon dodges.

"I know you're lying. You would've told me. You would've helped me get home."

"Jon--"

"You're protecting Clockwork, aren't you?" Jon demands, eyes beginning to burn red. "That old coot decided it wasn't enough to play with you, he had to play with me too."

The man slaps a hand over Jon's eyes. "Breathe, like we practiced," he instructs firmly. Steam rises from where his palm meets Jon's eyes, but if it hurts he shows no indication. "In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3."

Jon whimpers but heaves a breath, and the burst of red light dies down from between the man's fingers. His hand moves down to Jon's shoulder.

"I can't pretend to understand Clockwork's decisions," the man says, as tears begin to pool in Jon's eyes. "Frankly, I don't want to. I suspect they are hard decisions to make, sometimes."

"I don't get why you defend him," Jon says. "Dumbledore acting bastard."

"Language," the man says, lightly bopping him on the head. J'onn notes the boy actually winces, as if the blow hurts.

"I am upset with him, I hope you know that," the man continues. "But at the end of the day I'm also grateful. Because I got to meet you." He hooks an arm around Jon's shoulders, pulling him in. "And now you'll get to see your family again. And Sally, Arnold, and Damian!"

Jon sniffles, rubbing roughly at his face. He leans into the man's bicep. A trusted adult figure, then. One he's described his life to. A life, J'onn is sad to note, he appears to have lived for the past six years, as opposed to a sudden shift in appearance. Jon's next question all but confirm it: "Can I really go back? It's been so long. They'll be all grown up."

"Hey, of course you can," the man says, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sure they've missed you so much. They'll be so happy to see you again."

Jon starts to smile. "I'm going home."

"You're going home!" The man laughs, shaking him.

"I can finally eat some decent barbecue again!"

"Hey!" the man protests, "The smoker blew up one time!"

Jon continues, beginning to get excited. "And Ma will make her jalapeño cornbread! I never could get it right, I can't wait for you to try it!"

J'onn notes the older man's smile fading, eyes growing sad.

"And Damian will definitely want to spar and oh, oh! With you on our side we can totally prank Batman! I bet Alfred will even help! And Mom gives the best hugs, Pops comes really close but Mom will be really excited to meet you, everyone will."

"Jon," The man says.

"I knew you'd be worried about it, but they'll want to meet you," Jon says, clocking his expression. "They'll be grateful. You, you helped me. You kept me safe and taught me how to be Superman. They'll love you, I promise."

"Jon, I can't go with you," the man says gently.

"I'm not saying you stay, but you can visit! I'm sure the Justice League can figure out a way to maintain a portal, they're super used to all that multiverse stuff. Once they have the coordinates, you can stop by whenever!"

"I can't go through the portal, Jon," the man says. "To other worlds, I'm a god. And gods can't interfere. The only reason I can continue to live here is because this is the world of my origin."

Jon gapes at him. "But--but,"

"You're going to see your Mom and Dad again," the man says. "And your brother, and grandparents."

"I can come here, then," Jon says desperately, pushing his way out of the man's arms. The man is already shaking his head. "I can!"

"You can't."

"Why, because Clockwork says so? He's a liar!"

"Because multiverse travel is never a good idea. If you got trapped here again--"

"I wouldn't,"

"You belong with your family,"

"You're my family!" Jon cries. The man freezes. "You, and Sam, and Jazz, and Tucker and Val and Ellie and Pops and Mads, you're all my family! I can't just leave you, I won't!"

"Oh kiddo," The man says, eyes wet. "I love you too. We all do."

"So I'll stay," Jon says decisively. "For all we know my world is a wasteland. Gramps wasn't exactly right in the head when I left. It's better to stay here."

J'onn notes a green vine unwinding from a nearby trellis. It slides down the eave towards the pair.

"You don't mean that," the man is saying.

"I'm sixteen. I can make my own decisions. I'm staying."

The man cups Jon's face. "Your parents did not have a choice in losing you. I'm willing to bet they're devastated. Because I'd be devastated, losing a kid as great as you."

"Maybe they're not even there," Jon says, but the words are half-hearted, and it clearly hurts him to say them.

"I know I seem like a pushover, but if I thought Clockwork was sending you back to anything less than your loving family, I'd destroy him first. And he knows that. They're going to be there, I promise."

"I don't want to go," Jon says. Behind him, the vine rises from the eave of its own will, poised like a cobra enchanted by a snark charmer.

"I know," the man says, eyes drifting to the vine. "I'm so sorry, Jon."

"For what?" Jon asks, as the vine attaches itself to the nape of his neck. His eyes roll back as he collapses into the man's arms. The man hugs him tighter than is strictly necessary.

J'onn expects the memory to now end, alongside Jon's consciousness. To his curiosity, it does not.

"For what it's worth," a young woman spits bitterly, vines supporting her weight as she slips over the side of the roof. "I still think this is horrible." Her eyes are red and miserable.

"Seriously, team punching Dumbledore in the face," A young black man says, appearing in the air supported by a woman almost identical in appearance to the man holding Jon, down to the suit colors. They land on the rooftop.

"Are you sure about this," the dark haired woman with powers over plants asks. "Because to be honest, Danny, I'm five seconds away from punching you in the face."

"Jazz won't speak to you for months," the girl, likely his sister, points out.

"Make it a year," the man says, crossing his arms.

The man, Danny, ignores them all. He cards a hand through Jon's hair. "He'll retain the experience, but not the memories?"

"Yes, he'll be a perfect little superhero, just as you taught him," the woman says, vines twisting agitatedly around her, wrapping around her thigh, wrists and neck almost punishingly.

"Sam," the man says. "He needs to go home. All of you know that."

"He doesn't have to forget us to do so!" the sister bursts, eyes flashing green.

"Remembering would be a torment," Danny says. "He'll know he was loved. That's enough."

"Danny," the plant woman says, sitting beside them both. She puts a gentle hand on his, both on Jon's back. "This is just a different torment."

"And if someone finds out?" Danny asks. He has been patient amidst their scorn, but now a tiny edge ekes into his voice. "A god's child, unprotected? Threatened? He would never stop looking for a way back, and being vocal about it could get him killed."

The others are silent.

"He'll be home. He'll be happy," Danny says. More powerful than a prayer. A directive. He raises his head past the child slumbering in his lap, past them all, face hardening, and says to J'onn: "And you will say nothing."

J'onn takes a step back, fear so thick he could choke on it flooding his very being. Thismanwillkillhim, thismanwillkillhim.

This man will reach through dimensions and kill him.

"Now, get the fuck out of my kid's head," Danny snarls. J'onn is pushed back with enough force he enters his own mind in a vicious whirl that leaves him physically on the floor, gasping.

"I'm sorry," he says as Superman rushes to lift him, and he's not sure who he's apologizing to. Green eyes will pierce his dreams. Vines will crush his throat in his nightmares, screaming silence, silence.

You will say nothing.

"I'm sorry," J'onn says, politely pushing Clark's hands away as he rises. He's already beginning to calm, because he understands. Those are consequences he will not face. He will do as directed. He looks at Jon Kent, bewildered but unharmed, clutching his mother's hand.

J'onn reaches down and dusts at his pants. "I'm sorry," he says evenly, ready to spin his tale. Perhaps the Kents will continue to seek their answers. Perhaps not. He will stay out of it either way. He has been warned.

You were loved by gods. And to keep you safe, they would quiet us all.

Part Two

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dpxdc #superman #superboy #jonathan kent #jonathan samuel kent #my writing

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savannahsdeath · 1 year

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hii i have a little ellie request. so can we maybe have an enemies to lovers where reader and ellie “hate each other” but in reality ellie just wants to be with reader and she ends up using the strap roughly bc reader didn’t wanna confess after years? (sorry this seems long😭)

i absolutely love this idea omg??

ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

PART1ONE

part 2two

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, 'enemies' to lovers, strap (r!receiving), mean!ellie kinda??, rough!ellie, reader is also mean at first !!

writers note: i love receiving requests like yall are so creative and idkk its just easier to write a req than my own idea🫣🫣 also this turned out to be longer than i expected (my longest fanfic yet!) but even the anon said it seems long so ig thats how its supposed to be🙏

It was another PE lesson you hate so much. It wouldn't be that bad, if not the fact that you're in the same team with Ellie. Ellie fucking Williams.

She would get mad at you for every little mistake you made. You absolutely hated her.

You had to admit she was... pretty. Especially when she had the mix of mad and stern expression on her face. Sometimes you provoked her just to watch her insult every little thing about you she could but you didn't mind. You just sat there with a smirk, sometimes making a mockingly worried face to piss her off even more. Sometimes. Sometimes you weren't in mood for that and you'd actually get offended. Sometimes even hurt. But you couldn't really blame her, that's how it works.

This day, you were literally rescuing your team. Every point was because of you. Every 'that was close' situation was only 'close' because of you. But your luck, or whatever made you win, had to run out eventually. You missed one time.

"What happened? Got holes in your hands? Tired? Not so good anymore?" Ellie asked you with that mocking tone.

Everyone ignored your interaction - they knew what's starting and they didn't want to get involved in that.

"I've done pretty much everything for this team, and the only thing you do is complain, Williams." You said and you could feel your temper rising.

Ellie didn't hesitate to respond to that.

"Well at least I don't do a half-ass job like you. You're really so full of yourself, aren't you? Why not just give up and let someone actually capable take over, huh?" She barked sarcastically.

The other team members didn't even try to hide their excitement now, they just sat back and enjoyed the show, even the teacher was having a hard time holding back the grin on his face whenever Ellie came up with a new insult.

And now, there was no going back.

"Oh, I'm sorry Williams, did your precious little ego get hurt from that? Are my skills threatening your so-called pride? Well if you don't like it, suck it up." You shot back.

If this kept up, you were going to end up with another detention for sure. Everyone knew that you two were like oil and water, but nobody really expected you to get into a shouting match over PE class. Especially, not this early in the morning.

The teacher finally decided that it was enough trouble, and he stepped between the two.

"Ladies, settle down! If you can't figure out how to work well together in a simple PE session, then you'll need more than one detention to figure it out. Go sit down." He ordered, and you two sat down, next to each other.

As if following a silent order, all the other students just went about their business and pretended like nothing had happened.

"You should learn how to shut up sometimes." You said quietly, nervously playing with your fingers.

"You should stop thinking you're so damn important." She snapped back, completely ignoring your advice as she stared at you with the same icy cold look as before.

The teacher came over to the two of you and handed you a form, which you quickly read over. "Maybe it's rough but that's what you both deserve after arguing in every single class. And if that won't help... I don't know what will. Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything, understood?."

In short, the file was saying you'll have spent a month after school doing little school works, like cleaning the gym, with her. It was a frequent way of dealing with problematic students in your school.

You weren't even surprised - the teacher was right. Your little bickers were the main gossip topic and there was no way they'll go unnoticed.

Still, you couldn't help but frown.

"You've got to be kidding me." You muttered under your breath. Spending a month after school doing odd jobs with Ellie was literally the last thing you wanted to do. You knew there was some sort of punishment coming, but this was extreme.

Ellie overheard your muttering, and she rolled her eyes. "It's just a bunch of cleaning, what's wrong, can't handle a little hard work?" She mocked.

"And why are you so happy? Maybe you wished to spend more time with me?" You chuckled, finally looking up at her.

Ellie seemed caught off guard, but she quickly recomposed herself. "Who said I was happy? Sure, I'll love to see you grovel and scrub floors while I sit back and relax." She replied in a sarcastic tone.

You decided to press your advantage, and give Ellie a dose of her own medicine. "Aww, is someone actually admitting that they like spending time with me? I'm so honored." You said with an overdramatized fake fluster.

Ellie didn't even let you finish your sentence before she cut in with her usual sarcastic tone. "Pfff, don't get so ahead of yourself there." She chided. Even then, you could hear some slight annoyance in her voice.

Ellie may have been a jerk, but there was something about her you couldn't help but like. You couldn't explain it, but you liked this banter between the two of you.

Oh, who were you trying to lie to? You liked her. You were just good at hiding it.

You were just about to open your mouth to respond to Ellie's last snarky remark, when you were cut off again.

"Enough."

You both turned to see the teacher staring at the two of you. He sounded more annoyed than before, and you decided it was better to stop your feud before you got in any more trouble.

"You two are already going to spend a month together doing odd jobs. The last thing we need is for you to add another week to that sentence." He warned.

You wanted to say something back, but you decided to shut up before the teacher had to make it worse. You and Ellie just looked at each other for a couple of seconds, before you rolled your eyes and got up from your seat.

After a few more classes, the time of fulfilling your penalty came. You sat down at the gym benches, waiting for Ellie. You waited, and waited, but no one came.

Ellie was faster than you with getting up. She smirked and said; "Well it's not like you actually had anything worth saying anyway, so it's easier for you." With that parting jab, she walked out of the gym.

You expected something like that from her, so you stood up and a few minutes later you were standing in front of her room. You knocked to the door, patiently waiting for her to answer.

After a few moments, you heard footsteps, before the door finally opened. Ellie stood in front of you, her face as annoyed as ever.

"What do you want?" she grumbled, clearly not in the mood to be bothered right now.

"Uh, hello? We're supposed to be doing the clean-up, remember? You haven't forgotten, right?" You said, trying to stay as polite as you could.

She sighed and motioned for you to come in, clearly not ready to go just yet.

You slowly stepped into Ellie's room, your eyes taking in the decorations and mess. It was clear that this was Ellie's world, but you couldn't help but feel a slight curiosity towards her.

"So, why exactly weren't you at the gym?" You asked, finally breaking the tension. You didn't want her thinking you were here to start another argument.

"I had stuff to do." Was the terse response you were met with, nothing else.

"Yeah, of course." You rolled your eyes. "Your room could use some cleaning too."

Ellie smirked when your tone turned from polite to annoyed when she gave you her response, but you couldn't help but notice that she slightly recoiled when you mention how messy her room was. For someone with such a sharp tongue, she sure wasn't enjoying that same kind of treatment.

"Oh yeah? So maybe we should have you clean my room instead." She shot back.

"Actually, boarding school is still school, so that'd count too." You smirked, not so sarcastically anymore. You'd really rather stay in her room than running all over the building with a mop and dirty cloths.

Ellie raised one eyebrow at your reply, clearly not expecting you to just accept it without some kind of snarky remark or argument.

"Alright then." She replied simply, and she walked over to her bed and started to clear out the clutter. You couldn't really deny that her room was in a pretty messy state.

You explored the room, looking for something to start with.

Just then, near other scattered clothes, you saw feminine underwear. Clearly not hers.

"Um, Ellie..." You laughed. "Who's this?"

She walked up to you, not seeming surprised or embarrased at all. "I dunno. There's lots of girls visiting." She smirked.

You knew the smart thing to do would be just to drop the topic, but your curiosity got the best of you. Just who was Ellie Williams hanging out with?

"Really? And how many of them leave a pair of underwear in your room as a souvenir?" You asked, trying to keep a straight face, but you couldn't help but be amused by the situation.

Ellie just laughed, and you couldn't help but grin at her confidence in that moment.

"If you're asking if I'm dating someone," Ellie said, looking at you with an amused expression, "then no. I wouldn't call it dating."

You knew Ellie was always too stubborn and proud to just admit it normally, so you decided to push her just a little bit further.

"So it's not just a single person then? What's it? A new girl every day?" you asked with a smirk, knowing you'd hit a nerve there.

The slight flicker of annoyance on Ellie's face told you that you'd hit the mark.

"So what if it is? Are you jealous?" She teased in response, just adding fuel to the fire.

Now, she had the smirk on her face, and you just knew you'll regret what you started.

"Not really. Everyone knows you fuck every girl in the school anyways. Well, almost every." You suggestively pointed at yourself. "That's honestly sad. You should focus on one person, don't you think?"

Ellie took this as a challenge, she just couldn't resist it when you made yourself the exception.

"Oh, you think you're a special case? How cute." She snickered, and you couldn't help but feel somewhat pleased with that response after how much you two had been annoying each other for the past month.

"What do you think, should I consider dating you? It seems like you're interested, isn't that why you keep sticking around?" She asked, looking at you, knowing very well what kind of effect her words were gonna have on you.

"Me? Interested? You're the one finding excuses to talk to me every day, even if it's just another argument!" You shook your head and looked down, trying to hide that your smirk turns into a honest smile.

You felt Ellie's eyes studying your face as you tried to hide your genuine happiness, you tried to play it off, but you knew that it wasn't working in your favor. You couldn't even deny it, because it was true, you were interested in Ellie. Maybe not at first, but after spending time together, you grew to like her, her arrogance, her wit, the snarky smile on her face... and her eyes.

"Oh, so you do care!" She quickly cut in, sensing your weakness as your smile grew.

"Come on, don't tell me you've been enjoying this little game of ours, haven't you? Don't you look forward to it every day? Don't you love the adrenaline that kicks in when you're about to say something that's bound to start an argument?" She asked, taking a step closer to you and lowering her voice.

You could almost see the sparks fly as the two of you stared at each other, both feeling the tension in the air. You were almost tempted to take her up on the offer, but your pride got the best of you.

"You're just full of yourself, aren't you? Thinking everybody craves that attention." You said after taking a deep breath.

Ellie just smiled and walked straight to you, getting up close and personal.

"Well, I know you want it. So stop putting up a facade and admit it."

"I'm not like these sluts you fuck, Williams." You said, trying to keep your voice steady and calm.

Ellie just smirked in response. "You're right, you're not like them. You're better than them. And maybe you are a little special, considering how much you manage to piss me off everyday." She took a step back and looked you up and down. "I kinda like it." She said, and you couldn't help but feel your heart rate go up a little when she said that.

You just stared back at Ellie, not really sure what else to say in this situation. Both of your egos were too big to give the other one satisfaction, and neither would be making the first move.

She finally spoke up; "Your turn to be honest now. Admit you're into me."

She was awfully close to you now, daring you to say something.

"Don't push it, Ellie." You told her confidently, and even though you really wanted to say it, your pride was holding you back from admitting it.

Ellie just smirked and moved even closer to you, until her face was just an inch away from yours. "Say it." She whispered.

You felt your heart pounding faster as you just looked at her, not able to break her stare.

You shook your head. "No way."

She just chuckled at your response. "I knew you'd say that. And now, I'm gonna make you say it yourself."

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, Ellie pulled you close, just enough to make your lips meet. You just stood there, completely stunned by how bold she was, but at the same time, the feeling of her lips against yours was so new and so good as well. You hadn't felt this type of rush before, and you didn't want it to end.

You couldn't stop yourself from letting out a gasp followed by a moan into the kiss, which made her even bolder.

"I'll show you how lucky those so-called by you sluts are." She whispered after pulling away from you, but not for long.

While Ellie's mouth aggresively covered yours, you felt her slowly pushing you towards the bed.

You were barely able to think now, as your adrenaline was pumping through your whole body. Your back hit the mattress, and Ellie continued to push you down as she climbed up onto the bed on top of you.

That's when it hit you.

You realized that your little feud with Ellie wasn't going to end after all, except this time you weren't fighting her.

Instead, you were just enjoying the moment with someone you could almost call a friend.

It felt like there was nothing else in the universe, just a rush of new sensations that you didn't want to end.

Ellie was the one in control now, as you felt her body pressing up against you, her lips pressing against yours, her hands moving around your body without hesitation. You weren't even thinking straight anymore, you just let her embrace you, letting her take control entirely.

You felt her break the kiss for a moment, just to whisper something in your ear. "Say it."

You knew what she wanted you to say, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do so.

Before you could answer, you felt her slowly undressing you. Her lips were tracing paths along your throat, not letting you let out a logical word from it - only little whimpers.

You felt every curve of her body as you felt her lips against your neck, every touch sending chills down your spine.

When you felt her hands move towards your pants, you felt your body respond in the only way you could.

You couldn't think of anything else but her embrace, her warm breath against your neck, and your body slowly being freed from clothing.

Ellie knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Before you could catch your breath, you were left shaking, as her hand slipped into your underwear, which was soon on the floor too. She was teasing your clit in almost painful slow way, watching you squirm.

"Speak up, babe." She whispered mockingly.

But you couldn't. Not because you didn't want, or because your ego didn't let you - you just couldn't. You even asked yourself 'What does this girl wants from me?' as you already forgotten her previous wish. You just weren't thinking straight.

"Come on, do this for me." She kept looking at you with overdramatic concern. You saw her fastening her belt and sliding of her jeans, revealing an obviously-way-too-big strap, which purple color didn't surprise you at all as you imagined it the same way in your dreams.

When you finally came back to your senses, you constructed a whole full sentence answer. But as soon as she saw you opening your mouth to speak up, she slid a few inches of her toy into your soaking cunt. Your planned reply quickly got replaced with another gasp.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She smirked, her hips started thrusting. She had some sympathy for you, so she didn't make it too painful, but she wasn't also so merciful.

You cried out, at first clenching your thighs from surprise, but she was too strong for you to actually succeed.

You leaned your head back against the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut causing a few of your pathetic tears soak into the sheets.

She held your hips, so she won't miss your sensitive spot, but her grip was so hard you swore you can already see the bruises creating right beneath her fingers.

"Honestly, I'm really happy it ended like that. You have no idea how often I'd imagine you instead of some random girl. But it's good to have you really there." She chuckled, not slowing down but not speeding up either.

Your eyes opened wide at this confession. Before today, the nicest thing she said to you was 'what's wrong?', even though it was in an obviously mocking way. And know it turns out she liked you for a long time. Just like you liked her.

"W...Wh- What?" You managed to stutter out, leaning on your elbows to look at her before your vision turned blurry again so you fell back on the pillow.

"You didn't know?" She laughed. "I mean, you were always oblivious, so I shouldn't be shocked but... I thought it was clear." She was speaking slower than usual as every single word coming from her mouth was synced with the moves of her hips. While saying this simple thing, she pushed her strap into you at least twenty times. And she wasn't taking her time, oh, no. She was fast and rough, like you're just a sex toy without feelings. Did you mind? Hmmm...

When you started getting used to the size of her cock and your mind wasn't completely blank anymore, you remembered one important thing your PE teacher said. 'Someone will check in on you from time to time, so don't even think about anything.' None of you were either at the gym or putting up flyers around school. They're going to think you ditched it. Even though you'd rather get into more trouble than end whatever you were doing now, you felt you need to tell Ellie, just in case.

"El-s..." You moaned out and quickly realised it won't be easy.

"What is it?" She asked, seeming honestly interested in what you got to say. "Ready to admit you're absolutely obsessed with me?"

You clenched your fists, squeezing the bed sheets between your fingers.

"Th- no... We should..." You couldn't help but cry out again.

As soon as she heard the two keywords - 'we should' (and she hated when someone was telling her what to do, so that pissed her off) - she understood what you're trying to say.

"Behave? Fulfill our duties? Or...?" She chuckled.

You wanted to speak up, just to not feel so vulnerable as you really were. You only managed to mumble 'we' before one of her hands started rubbing your clit, just like at the start - painfully slow. The feeling made your thighs tense and move closer to each other, wanting to close the gap between them. But Ellie didn't let that happen as she quickly separated your legs.

Her hips also didn't stop moving, and all the sensations connected made you go silent again. Well, not silent - unable to speak. And that were two completely different things.

"I'd take that as a 'we should continue what we're doing right now'. Isn't that what you want?" Even though you're eyes were closed, you could feel her intense stare on you. Then, her mocking tone came back. "What is it with you being so quiet all of sudden? You spent a few of the past years yelling at me, and you can't even say a word now?"

"I ju-st..." You said but then she hit your g spot again, and again, and again... making you go silent.

Your stomach started feeling funny - probably because of how deep in it Ellie's strap was. At this point, you thought you can even feel it in your throat and that's what's blocking your words from coming out. But the funny feeling had a different origin - your release was getting awfully close, and it didn't go unnoticed.

"We're going to have lots of fun this month." She whispered, leaning in to stroke your cheek.

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barleyo · 2 months

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BARELYYYYY write another daddy Leon fic, AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOURSSS

867-5309.

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: this fic is shitty and short, sorry ^_^ i literally have no drive or desire to write anymore, idk what's going on with me. probably some type of brain worm! but i thought i should at least try to get something written :3 (ily whoever knows what song the title is referencing)

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), phone sex, age gap (21 and 50-ish), mutual masturbation, no actual sex, idk dude i'm not sure what i was going for with this

Wordcount: 719

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

"Little note wasn't lying," Leon said into his phone, sitting in his car near the back of the bar's mostly empty parking lot. "What's this about a good time, doll?"

It was too late for him to be out like this. Too late for him to be this far from sober. Too late for him to be calling some random number that was stuck to the urinal partition. And, of course, it was much too late for him to be this horny.

"Depends," a voice, your voice, spoke on the line. "What kinda night is it, mister?"

Thank god he was drunk, or else he would've heard right through your overly sensual, fake tone. Thank god you were stupid, or else you would've known it was him right from the sleazy nicknames he used.

"Tonight?"

Dirty fucking man. His hands were practically already in his pants. Roughly palming at himself over his tented jeans to the sound of some mystery broad's voice.

"It's a real good night, babydoll. I think you could make it better though." He pulled his zipper down, cock pulsating desperately.

You giggled on the other line, absolutely drowning in the sudden flush of attention. That's why you slipped the damn sticky note with your burner's number into the men's room all those nights ago, hoping some horned up man old enough to be your dad would ring your line and validate you. Little did you know, that man would truly be your dad.

"Sounds like you could use it. I don't mind 'chatting' for a bit," you said, hand finding its way all over your body. "Tell me, y'touching yourself already?"

"To a voice like yours? Of course I am."

Leon freed himself from the confines of his pants, eyes shifting anxiously as he looked around the sparse parking lot. He was a grown man, he'd jerked off to hotlines and voices on the phone all the time. In public, though? New territory completely.

He squeezed his shaft, feeling it pulse in his hand. Thing had a heartbeat of its own at that point as it practically begging to catch some friction and relief.

"Glad you called," you said, sliding your panties off while you spoke. You tossed them in the corner of your room mindlessly. "I've been waiting for someone to find that little note."

Leon opened his mouth to respond when he heard a soft moan escape your mouth. That was enough for him to start. He wanted to take it slow, to enjoy himself, but who was he kidding? He was a needy fucker and he wanted to cum ASAP.

"What'cha doing right now?" he was finally able to ask, swallowing thickly as he pumped his length. "Using those cute fingers, doll?"

You hummed through an over exaggerated moan, dramatizing and putting on a show for your 'mystery man.'

"Sure am," you said, finger curled, reaching your g-spot the best you could with the limited length it had. "But it's not as good as the real thing."

He could practically hear the pout in your voice, and it drove him crazy. You sounded like a bratty little baby, just his type.

"Awh, aren't you a poor thing? Bet some older cock would do you good, huh?"

He heard the squelch of your cunt through the phone speaker. It picked up the sound of your palm hitting your clit, and the little gasps of air you let out each time you slammed your fingers in.

"Guess so." You bit your bottom lip, holding back an excited squeal at his words. "You offering?"

Leon chuckled dryly, watching the tip of his cock weep with pre as he stroked himself. "Oh, someone's eager. Sure," he said, amused smirk on his face as he started to near his climax, hand still working furiously over his cock. "I'm offering. I could use a cute thing like you, anyway. It'll be much better than just hearing ya through the phone."

"We'll see about that," you teased, phone clicking off of the line just as he started to cum.

(XXX)-867-5309: *sent location*

(XXX)-867-5309: pull up ;)

Wait, that address? That was his house...

"Fuck."

Leon's head fell back on the car seat headrest, brain going a mile a minute. Hand still covered in stray spurts of cum.

"Fuck!"

#dead dove fic #tw: incest #cw incest #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy smut #dad x daughter #resident evil x reader #resident evil #smutfic #smut #x reader #fanfic #leon s kennedy x reader #gross kink #fucked up fic

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vettelsvee · 1 month

Text

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 4: FAMILIAR [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | ask anything or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 3811

summary: seb comes back home as a surprise only to see that hanna and a little mysterious girl receive them... instead of y/n, who was supposed to finally meet him

warnings: settled on may 2018. curse words, angst, seb and little emily meeting but they don't know who they are to each other, seb being VERY suspicious. seb pov.

taglist: [ @saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife @sleutherclaw @youre-on-your-ownkid ]

a/n: i haven't said anything, BUT taylor made a mashup for her surprise songs in warsaw night 2 that is an absolute spoiler of this series (if you know it TELL ME ON ANON BECAUSE I LITERALLY SCREAMED). anyways, we're back with an update FINALLY. sorry to make you wait (really, i wasn't doing mentally ok and I'm still struggling but here we are!), but in the next chapter we'll have y/n and seb finally meeting... but for the moments I'll wait to see your comments, anon messages and reactions (please please please) about everything that happens on this chapter and how suspicious seb's gonna be (hope you fangirl and like everything as much as i did writing this) + also remind you that feedback and reposts are truly appreciated. thank you for all the support you've been showing me these days, love you all <3

2018

May 3rd Heppenheim, Germany

Sebastian

The exhaustion was piling up in my body, and I knew that what I was doing was crazy. I was fully aware that facing my past with just two hours of sleep was quite risky, but I couldn't wait to see Y/N again. As soon as Hanna told me she had spoken to her and gave me the green light to visit her, I forced Britta to buy me a plane ticket to Cologne to head home as soon as I finished some Ferrari ads and all that shit I absolutely hated in Maranello. My excitement and nerves were so intense that I didn't even tell anything to my parents or Fabian, who would probably go crazy for not telling them earlier.

I let go of the suitcase reluctantly and, to my misfortune, it fell to the floor with a rather noticeable thud. I sighed and did my best to ignore it, ringing the doorbell and leaning against the wall while holding the bouquet of tulips I had bought for Y/N. I knew it was silly, but I was excited to have this small gesture as a sort of belated birthday gift for her.

"Who is it?"

I was notably surprised when, instead of my mother’s voice, a child’s one chirped the question.

"It’s Seb," I replied, trying not to make a big deal out of the situation. Maybe it was just the daughter, or even granddaughter, of one of my mother’s friends.

"I don’t know any Seb! Who is it?" she asked again, this time with a slightly annoyed tone.

"I’m Sebastian."

"Sorry, but I only know two Sebastians: one is the crab from The Little Mermaid, and the other one is the man who sometimes appears on TV at Grandma’s house."

I couldn’t help but laugh. Whoever that little girl was, she was the best thing I had come across in a long time.

"Mum also says I can’t open the door to strangers, so I can’t let you in. I’m sorry, sir."

"But my parents live here," I replied as calmly as I could. It was clear that the lack of sleep was affecting my patience.

"Are you Mr. Norbert’s secret son?!"

"Emily, let me open the door!"

The door suddenly opened, revealing a somewhat out-of-breath Hanna, as if she had come running to open it and was now trying to catch her breath. Next to her was a girl about five years old, with completely blonde and curly hair that reached roughly to her waist. The little one didn’t hesitate to smile and greet me with her right hand, and almost immediately, her eyes widened as she made eye contact with me. When I turned my gaze back to my friend I was quite surprised. Her skin, which was already pale, had turned even paler for no apparent reason. The girl, however, kept looking at me, curious and, in my perception, somewhat pleased.

Had Hanna become a mother and didn’t tell me?

Before I could react or say anything, the door slammed shut in my face, not giving me a chance to say anything. My surprise came when, a few seconds later, it opened again, revealing the same scene.

“You’re…” she started to say, hesitating. She was nervous, and her nerves only made me more anxious. “Seb… but not…”

“Is something wrong, Hanna?”

Instead of answering, she remained completely silent. I knew something was wrong as soon as she started to look at the ground instead of looking at me.

“Hanna?”

“Aunt Hanna…” the little girl, still by her side, intervened, trying to get her attention by tugging at her sweater sleeve. “The man who appears on TV with the red car is talking to you,” I widened my eyes, surprised. Did the girl know me? “Mom says that when someone talks to you, you should respond; it’s rude not to.”

“Do you know who I am?” I asked the little girl, crouching to her level.

“Of course I know you…!”

“Hey, sweetie, why don’t you go play outside for a while?” My friend intervened before the little girl could finish. “Sebastian and I need to talk about some things, okay?”

“Did mommy have a surprise for me and that’s why she brought him?” the girl asked curiously, pointing at me. “Mommy said she was going to bring me a surprise when she came back from…”

“Emily, that’s enough! Go outside and we’ll talk about mom's surprise later. We can even call her if you want, okay?”

Prater’s shout startled the girl, who simply picked up a stuffed panda from the couch and a red car that looked quite similar to the one I had in Formula 1 back in 2015. As soon as Hanna turned back to her, scolding her once more, she ran towards the yard.

I found it amusing that, when my friend turned back to me, that curly-haired blonde girl peeked around the door, trying not to let us see her, possibly feeling quite curious about what we had to discuss.

It didn’t bother me at all, but exactly the opposite. I used to do the same when I was a child and my parents had friends coming home.

“Are you here or not, Sebastian?”

Hanna quickly brushed her hand over my face. I immediately shifted my gaze from the little girl and refocused on her. She had her arms crossed, her sweater sleeves rolled up, and her face was completely red.

I wasn’t sure if she was angry with little Emily, with me, or with the situation, though she had no reason to be. After all, I was the one who had come to my parents’ house, my home, to get ready to see Y/N. It wasn’t my problem that I had encountered Hanna and this mysterious girl here, without any prior notice. At least, I didn’t see it as such.

“I’ve been here since I arrived, Hanna. You’re the one who’s gone crazy seeing me show up,” I responded tersely.

“You could have told me that you were coming.”

“Do I need to give an exact day for when I’ll be back home? Can’t I give my parents a fucking surprise?”

“Didn’t you consider that your parents might be running errands at this time? Or that…”

I left her talking to herself because the last thing I wanted was to argue, especially over something trivial like this. Her behavior was stressing me out too much, and that was the last thing I needed, especially considering that my ex and I might run into each other at any moment.

Without saying anything else, I headed to the kitchen to find a vase for the tulips for Y/N before they wilted. While filling it with water, I noticed the little girl. She was engrossed with that red toy car, moving it back and forth while murmuring commands with what seemed to be an attempt of technical Formula 1 words. She pushed her curls out of her face and suddenly decided to include the panda bear in the game.

I stared at the girl. Her face seemed familiar… too familiar, in fact. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but I had a feeling I had seen her before in Heppenheim, though I didn’t remember seeing her as part of any family of my parents’ friends.

I tried to downplay the fleeting thought when Hanna arrived, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and, as I had guessed upon looking back, with a rather unfriendly expression.

Her eyes were analyzing me, I knew it perfectly. I sighed and placed the vase on the counter, arranging the tulips as best as I could while trying to ignore her behavior.

"Are they for Y/N?" she finally asked.

"Who else would they be for?"

"She isn’t here," she said abruptly, dropping the news.

Silence fell between us once again. I raised my gaze so quickly that I almost felt a bit dizzy. All she did was look at me, unable to continue the conversation or, at least, undecided on whether to continue it or not. Finally, after a few seconds, she decided to speak again:

"I know I told you she’d be here this week, but…" she hesitated. It was the first time I had seen her like this, and she was by no means the self-assured Hanna I had known since the first day of school. “Damn it, Seb, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but…”

"Does she have a boyfriend?"

That was the first thing that came to mind, and I immediately regretted blurting it out. Hanna laughed so hard that Emily, who was now chasing a butterfly, stopped dead in her tracks to see what was happening to her supposed aunt.

Hanna approached me. She gave me a few pats on the chest and then on the head, before giving me a hug that caught me off guard.

"How naive you are, Sebastian Vettel… Do you really think Y/N would have a boyfriend? Can you picture her having one?"

"Well, it's been five years since she broke up with me. It's about time she moved on, so I find it normal."

"Have you moved on? Do you have some secret girlfriend you haven’t told us about, Mr. Privacy?"

I didn’t answer, which was enough for her to know we were in the same romantic situation.

"I've slept with a few girls all these years, but I’ve never looked for anything serious," I confessed.

"Well, I’m afraid to tell you that you’re in the same boat as Y/N then. As far as I know, she hasn’t slept with anyone, although it’s understandable, considering she has…”

And before she could say anything more, she stopped talking. Again.

If the situation between us had calmed down, it had now become tense again. It was the second time that day, at least as far as I had noticed, that Hanna Prater seemed to have let something slip. I looked at her, searching her expressions for something that would give me a hint about what she wanted to say; she simply looked away and headed to the living room, sitting on the sofa and changing the channel from some cartoon pigs to the local Heppenheim news channel.

"What does Y/N have, Hanna? Or who does she have?"

"Y/N is in London, Seb," she finally revealed with a sigh, as if it was hard for her to tell me. “I know it’s not my place to tell you this, and even less that she would like you to know, but after your breakup… she has some contacts.”

"What kind of contacts are you talking about?" I wanted to know. Had she done something I wasn’t aware of? Was she in trouble?

"To say it briefly, because the story is too long, a guy from this very famous boyband back in the day decided to come here for a while to find inspiration for new music and see what to do with his solo career," she explained. “Call it coincidence, luck or an act of God, but Niall ended up going to the bar where Y/N works and, well… the rest is history.”

I didn’t know what to say… Yes, I hoped things were going a bit better for her than when we were together, but that she had met someone as important as that guy seemed…

"The thing is, Y/N is in London right now. But she’ll be back, so don’t worry. She’s been there for several days," Hanna continued. "Niall isn’t particularly good at keeping secrets, and since he knew she was the face behind Red, he had the bright idea of mentioning it to his label who, luckily, said they’d like to meet with Y/N to offer her a contract."

"And did you know any of this before telling me to come, or…?"

I tried not to sound angry, but the truth was I was, at least a little. To be more exact, I was more than just angry… I was upset. Upset simply because Y/N, knowing I had asked if she was the face behind that viral video that was having so much success, and now considering that she had a possibly important meeting with that record label, hadn’t bothered to respond not only to my question but also to my birthday wishes.

I felt really bad because, despite being the person who probably knew y/n better than anyone else in the world, it seemed like the opposite.

"Y/N didn’t tell me anything until the day before she left," she confessed quietly. "I swear, Seb, she was so reluctant to go that I even thought she wouldn’t go and you two would finally get to talk about everything…” Once again, a pause full of uncertainty gnawed at me from within. “The only thing she said to me before going to London was that she wasn’t going to sign anything and that she was going only because she hadn’t traveled since you two were together, and she actually was doing that because she needed to disconnect and think about a few things.”

"So… did she go for nothing?"

"She doesn’t want to sign any record deal, Seb. She just wants to put her life in order and continue it as it is now. She doesn’t need anything more than what she has."

I didn’t know what to say, but I had a thousand conflicting thoughts swirling in my head right now. It struck me as very strange that my ex-girlfriend didn’t want to accept a record deal. That was everything Y/N had worked for in this life, and now, when she had the opportunity, she was turning it down…

Maybe Britta was right and the Y/N I knew was now just a mere ghost of my past, still haunting my life to torment me with the answers I never got.

"Y/N should accept it," was all I could say, impassive to what my ears had just heard. "I can’t believe she’d turn down something she’s fought for so many years…”

Suddenly, a melody from a song I didn’t recognize started playing in the room. Emily appeared with a phone in her hand and ran to give it to Hanna who, upon looking at the screen, became quite alarmed.

"Sorry, Seb, it’s important…" she said without taking her eyes off the phone. "Emily, stay here with Seb, okay? I’ll be right back…”

Hanna left faster than I would have liked, leaving me alone with the little girl, who again kept staring at me.

"You’re just like on TV..."

The little blonde girl came up to me, too close, and began examining me closely. She placed her small hands on my cheeks and moved them across my face. I was sure she was leaving little traces of dirt, but I didn’t mind when I saw she couldn’t stop smiling and laughing.

"If my mommy were here, she’d be very happy to see you," she said, sitting next to me.

"Does your mom know who I am?"

She nodded.

"Mommy watches you on TV every day," she revealed. "Well, not every day, but when you’re on granny’s TV on weekends, she spends hours and hours watching you at your work!"

"So your mom likes Formula 1, huh?"

"What’s that?" she asked innocently. However, before I could say anything, she spoke again. "Oh, I remember now! That’s what’s on TV where the cars go really fast, right? And you drive one of them, don’t you?"

I nodded slightly while laughing.

"Mommy says it’s very dangerous and sometimes she’s scared about what might happen to you. Mommy really likes you a lot, you know? Why don’t you go out with her and be my daddy?"

"Sometimes it is a bit dangerous, yes, but don’t worry: today there are many safety measures to keep us safe, and we also take a lot of care when we drive,” I said quietly, trying to sound as calm as possible and ignoring her last request. Did this girl not have a present father?

The girl frowned, not very convinced by my answer and, possibly, upset by ignoring part of what she was surely eager to know. Her eyes, a shade of blue that was neither dark nor light, looked at me with curiosity.

"Have you ever hurt yourself while driving your red car?" she asked again, interested.

"Well, um…" I hesitated for a moment on what words to choose so as not to alarm her further. "Sometimes we have small bumps, but the barriers on the track protect us when we go off."

Emily seemed more at ease with the softened version of reality, although she still looked worried and upset. I didn’t know why I was telling her all this considering she was probably no older than five and I might be scaring her.

"Hey, now tell me something about you, since I’m on holidays and I don’t want to talk about my work! What do you like to do? I don’t know anything about you yet!"

Her eyes lit up when I asked her that. My main intention was to change the subject, but something inside me was glad to see her so happy when I showed some kind of interest in her.

"I love to paint and play!" she exclaimed. "I also like going to the park with mummy, dancing and singing at her work! And I also like tales!"

"What’s your favorite tale?"

“Mommy always tells me one about a prince who is part of a blue team and takes part in an important game every year, and he always wins! And in the end, he falls in love with a very pretty waitress, and they have a little baby and take care of it together, and they’re very happy!”

I got in absolute shock at her words.

Could it...?

No, it’s impossible, there’s no way that’s some kind of version of my story with Y/N. It must be the exhaustion and all the hustle and bustle of these last few days that are starting to make my head a mess.

I didn’t know what else to say, so while I tried to sort my thoughts, we sat in silence for a while. I changed the channel from the local one to the cartoons that had been on earlier to keep Emily entertained.

The little one didn’t say anything else, but she did snuggle up to me as if she had known me for much more than less than an hour.

When some amount of time had passed, I felt slight tugs on my shirt. I hadn’t realized I had closed my eyes and had dozed off a little. Emily’s little smile brought me back to reality:

“Is something wrong, little one?” I asked, worried that something had happened to her.

“Aunt Hanna is still on the phone, and Peppa Pig is over,” she pointed to the TV with her little hand. “And you probably have to leave soon... Mrs. Heike and Mr. Norbert are coming back any moment now!”

“But this is my house. I’m not going anywhere,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Heike and Norbert are my parents. Do you remember that I told you that before?”

She nodded, relieved and partly remembering that we had talked about it earlier. From her face, I knew she was about to say something more, but I didn’t hear her when I noticed my phone vibrating in my pocket.

I tried to disconnect as much as possible when I was on “vacation,” but given that it could be an important work issue, I decided to check what the notification was about.

To my absolute surprise, it was a message from Y/N:

Hi, Seb.

I’m so sorry for not replying to you earlier. I completely forgot...

I really wanted to, but with one thing and another, it’s been impossible. Hanna has probably talked to you about it, so I won’t say much more so I don’t stress you out more than you probably already are.

I promise that the next time you come, I’ll be there, and we’ll talk about whatever you want.

I think we have quite a few things to discuss about, and I hope you’re not upset with me when that happens.

I read the message more times than I could count, not believing what my eyes were seeing. Relief mixed with confusion at the last sentence. “I think we have quite a bit to discuss, and I hope you’re not upset with me when that happens” didn’t make me think of anything good, especially coming from Y/N.

I took some time to reply, maybe hoping that Hanna, who I saw was coming back into the house, could help me. I started to worry again when I saw a forced smile on her face, as if she was trying to hide something, just as she seemed to have been doing all day.

I started to hear the door lock and then it opening. I knew perfectly by the way of walking that it was my parents, and Emily seemed to know it as well. The little one jumped off the sofa and ran towards them, which surprised me quite a bit.

I only did the same, except I stood up as calmly as I could, with a kind of fear I couldn’t explain.

“You’ve come back home!” the little girl shouted excitedly, bouncing up and down. “Mrs. Heike, Mrs. Heike! Can I ask you something now that your son, the one who drives cars and is very liked by mom, is here?”

My mother looked at the little girl, and then at me. Her face changed completely when she realized that Emily wasn’t lying and that I was, in fact, back home. I didn’t know what Hanna was like at that moment, but I would swear she was more distressed than she had been all day.

Even my father, who normally was a person who didn’t get flustered by anything, seemed quite nervous.

Emily and I, however, seemed to be the only ones who weren’t catching on and were living in our bubble of innocence.

“Does your mommy have a nickname for you, Sebastian?” the little one asked me in a low voice, calling me by my name for the first time. Then she asked me to bend down and carefully placed her hand on my ear to tell me something so that no one would hear. “My mommy says I’m the sunshine of her life, but she always says to me not to tell anyone, that she calling me that way is a secret between us. No one answers me why when I ask them, do you know why?”

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xxoolii · 11 months

Note

hope you are well

Can you do something with Hiccup Haddock

argh i'm such a hiccup whore, i mean who isn't?

I would absolutely love to do that for you!!

MDNI, im serious, i literally don't like you babe

warnings: jealousy(the green-eyed monster), praise, degrading, 18+ content, cream pie, not edited in the slightest, the idea is kinda over used but idc, angry sex

author notes: reposts are greatly appreciated! also finished exams so im able to write now, very excited to get into this!!

what you want?

uh oh, you had undoubtedly done it this time. at first, it had seemed like a totally innocent idea, but it had gotten out of hand, it wasn't your fault that the skirt you were wearing rode up every time you bent down in front of hiccup. there was something in his eye. Every time you bent down, a look that you almost couldn't place, it was almost primal, in the kind of way a hunter would look at its prey.

you loved it. you wanted more of it, and then a thought came to your mind. you gave him a polite smile, making your way in slow strides. Over to Snot lout, you crouch down next to him, and place your hand on his thigh. "wow your so smart I never noticed" him being totally oblivious, didn't understand the false nature of your compliment. But hiccup did, he knew that it was to riel him up and make him jealous. he stood up abruptly rushing towards you and snatching your hand off his thigh, yanking you away yelling some nonsense about you feeling sick and needing to go home.

he drags you out the door, throwing you over his shoulder as he makes his way to your house, the walk wasn't far and you were kicking and complaining the entire time, as if you hadn't caused this, as if this wasn't your desired reaction. he reached the threshold of your house and barged through the door making his way to your shared bedroom. you continue to wriggle, grabbing onto beams and doorways as he makes his way through the house. a futile effort on your behalf . he reaches his final destination, and gently throws you on the bed.

he looks at you with a predatory look in his eyes "What was that about huh?" he says this as he makes his way across the bed, hand snaking its way up your thigh. you decide in that moment that your going to play dumb, you've already committed to this act so you may as go all in. "what act?" you ask dumbly. he grabs your thigh roughly, other hand grabbing your chin and pulling you towards him. "you know exactly what i mean. or would you rather i just teach you a lesson?" he smirks knowingly at you, he wasn't dumb he knew you'd done it all for attention.

--------------------------------------------

and thats how you gotten here. your arms and legs ached as you felt him roughly pounding into you, moans echoing throughout the whole house. he was unrelenting and he was taking all of his frustrations out on you. his hands gripped tighter on your hips, pulling you to meet his thrusts.

your arms give out due to the speed and force he's fucking you with, your face meets the mattress, moans lost in the fabric. he's not slowing down, his groans and small moans show just how lost in your pussy he is. he spews out sweet praise, contrasting it with the perfect amount of degrading.

"your so pretty like this" "Wish I could have you like this all day honey" "You're doing so so good for me baby, just a little longer im almost there" Sweet pet names and sweet nothings running through your veins as he fucks you better than he ever has. once he gets closer his sweet praise switches to taunts and degradation. "aww poor baby cant take it anymore?" "isnt this what you wanted, pathetic whore"

his thrusts speed up, showing how close he is. you orgasm not too far behind you, the burning pleasure almost too much to bear. your moans and his groans make a beautiful symphony as you both grow closer, the way he strokes against your velvet walls drives you crazy. your body could only ever feel like this for him. white flashes over your eyes as you reach your release. squirting all over him. the sweet feeling of your pussy clamping on him sends him over the edge as he groans and presses his hips flush against yours releasing his seed deep inside you.

he pulls away, his cock covered in a mix of both of your juices. he flips you onto your back momentarily in awe of the way his cum rolls out of your clenching hole. then he speaks.

"hope your little game was worth it honey"

_________________________________

and thats it for today ladies, gents and non-binary pals! this is a little low effort because i started it during exams but im glad to finally be getting it done now!

#smut #xxoolii #new to this #hiccup x reader smut #hiccup haddock #httyd hiccup #httyd smut #x reader #hiccup how to train your dragon

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reiderwriter · 1 year

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Hi, can I request a smut fic about Spencer being a sub and desperately begging the reader to dominate him and how it turns out please ?

I love your writing 🥹

A/N: I feel like I'm not good at writing Sub! Spencer but I certainly did give it a go 😅 let me know what you think in the comments or the ask box!

W/C: 1.7k

Warnings: sub!Spencer, Dom!Reader, mommy kink, slight bondage, orgasm control, use of sex toys (M and F), I don't think there's anything else???

You’d noticed the look on his face earlier in the day, but you hadn’t quite worked up the courage to ask him what it meant. Despite being a BAU Profiler, the man couldn’t stop himself from displaying his desire clearly on his face. There was something Dr Spencer Reid wanted, badly, and even without a fancy FBI job you knew that.

You let him come to you first, though, a little bit intrigued about how long it would take him to break. He’d been silent as he stared at you over dinner, making small talk, sure, but not sharing his actual thoughts. The car ride home had been similarly devoid of his usual “Reid”isms, but you could feel his eyes on you from his place in the passenger seat, raking over you shyly. When you got into the apartment, you thought he was finally going to break.

“Y/N…?”

“Yeah, Spence? What is it?” you smiled at him, ready to hear what had been on his mind the entire time.

“Actually, no…no it’s nothing.” He turned to move towards the bathroom, but you cut him off before he reached it.

“It’s not nothing, you’ve been acting weird all night, is there something wrong?”

He hesitated for a second, before pulling your hand into his. Reaching down, he planted a small chaste kiss on your lips, then tried to pull away quickly, but you laced your hands through his hair and pulled him back down to you, not letting him go until you were satisfied.

“Can we… Can we try something new?” he asked, and your heart rate increased as he trailed his hands hesitantly down to your hips.

“What were you thinking, Spencer?” your voice was lower now than it had been a few moments ago, barely a whisper, but the lacking space between the two of you more than made up for it.

“Can you…I don’t really know how I’m supposed to say it,” he frowned, looking down at you with that puppy dog expression that you’d fallen for.

“Tell me with your words Spencer, you can do it.”

“Can you… take charge tonight?” The blush on his face was pronounced, his entire body aflame with the question he’d just asked. You felt yourself growing excited at the prospect, hoping that he was absolutely insinuating what you thought he was.

“What do you mean by that, baby? You want me to take charge how?” You smiled through the questions, trying to set him at ease so he wouldn’t clam up again. You ran a distracting hand through the hair at the base of his neck and waited for him to respond.

“Please can you….I want you to-”

“No wants, Spencer. What do you need?” you asked, smiling innocently up at him.

“Please, I need you to dominate me.” Hearing the words that you’d suspected for the last few minutes had your heartbeat racing faster. You knew Spencer didn’t like to give up control often, but he’d been thinking about this all day, and you weren’t going to say no to him now that he’d asked you so nicely.

Moving your hand down from his hair to his tie, you yanked him down sharply so you were eye to eye, and he let out a shuddery breath.

“We’re going to use the traffic light system, okay baby? Red means you want to stop, orange, you need a break or you’re reaching your limit, green, you’re okay. Do you understand?” He nodded in response so you pulled him a little closer, not letting his lips meet you in the way that they wanted to.

“I need to hear your voice, baby, do you understand?”

“Y-yes, Y/N.”

“Yes, mommy,” you insisted, and you watched as his adams apple bobbed with his swallow.

“Yes, mommy.”

“Good boy,” you smiled at him, before pulling him roughly into the bedroom by his tie. Looking down, you saw that he was already rock hard in his pants, his hand sneaking down between the two of you to palm himself, desperate for friction of any kind.

"What color, baby?"

"Green." You nodded and turned your gaze back down to his pants.

“Stop that right now. Did I give you permission to touch yourself, Spencer?” He whipped his hand away immediately, holding them both up like he was surrendering himself.

“No, mommy. I’m sorry.” You pushed him to the bed as he responded, and he let out a small gasp as he landed.

“Here’s how it’s going to go, baby. You’re going to sit there and watch mommy get herself off, and you’re not going to help or touch me or touch yourself. Just watching. And if you’re a good boy, then I’ll give you a special reward. Okay?”

“Yes, mommy.” He moaned out shakily. You pull down his pants, taking care to avoid making direct contact with his cock, letting it free itself from it’s prison without your interference or his, already wet with his precum.

“My-my, you’ve been thinking about this all night, right? My pervereted little baby.” You giggled at him, stroking your hands up and down his legs without getting close enough to give him pleasure. You pushed away for him and moved towards the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed. Right where you left it sat a small bullet vibrator, shiny and pink and fully charged.

Walking to the reading chair opposite the bed, you spread your legs, watching his cock twitch as he took in the sight of your panty-clad cunt. Your skirt was hiked up around your waist as you pressed a button and let the vibrator buzz to life. You wanted to give him a show, and boy did you. You heard each and every one of his whimpers as you trailed the small little pellet down your body from your nipples to the tops of your thights all the way back up to your sopping pussy.

You let out a moan as it made contact, playing up the pleasure to torture the man in front of you. His hands were balled tightly into the sheets splayed around him, his jaw tense as he tried his best not to touch himself to your pleasure.

Pulling the top of your dress down, you let his eyes rake over the hard stiff peaks of your chest, watching as his breaths grew more and more shallow.

“Look how good mommy is making herself feel, baby. Can you see it?” you asked him, desperate to see if he would break or not.

“Mommy, please. Please let me…” he whimpered out, cock twitching again as he shifted slightly in his seat.

“Not a chance, Spencer.” You moaned then, letting your tongue fall out of your mouth a little before pulling the bullet up to your lips and sucking on the end of it slightly.

"Color?"

“G-Green. Please, please, just touch me, please,” he moaned from his seat, eyes not leaving your lips.

“You can touch yourself if you want baby, but there are consequences for not listening to your mommy, remember,” you sang at him, growing wetter and wetter at his heavy breathing.

“I’m sorry, mommy.” He said, grabbing the base of his cock and beginning to pump himself while looking at you.

You frowned as his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, finally getting some relief. Picking yourself up, you made your way to the bed and removed his hand from himself before grabbing him by the throat.

“You wanted to be punished, baby?” You asked, squeezing down gently on his neck as he tried to thrust his cock into your hip, desperate to close the distance between the two of you. He whimpered as you tightened your grip.

"Color?"

"Green," he moaned and you bloomed at the sound.

“Open your mouth,” you said, and he quickly obeyed. You spat in his mouth, and he dutifully swallowed it, hips rutting like crazy desperate for your touch.

The vibrator still in your hand, you decided that both of you could have some fun with it that day.

“Hands on the headboard, now. I don’t want to see them move at all, am I clear?” you said, voice firm. He moaned his agreement and you set the vibrator off once again. Being careful not to let any of your bare skin touch his, you bought the vibrator closer and closer to his aching cock. You’d barely ghosted over the tip when he started madly moaning, not bothering to hide his pleasure anymore, too lost in the feeling of it all.

You traced ghosting circles over his slit, and you physically saw him shudder and grow somehow harder.

“That’s it, good boy. Just relax for mommy, okay?” He doesn’t even respond to you this time, eyes screwed shut as if he were so desperate to experience that touch that he was willing to block out his every other sense.

You finally let the vibrator fall deep onto the tip of his dick, and he doesn’t last more than thirty seconds before coming with a loud moan.

“Mommy, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t…” he gasps out with every new splash of cum that coats his chest. You’re sick of the noise coming from his mouth though, so, scooping up some of his own cum in your fingers, you press two to his lips as he moans another apology, and his eyes blow wide.

“Clean me up, baby, now.” He gets to work, licking him own cum off of you as you sit between his legs on the bed, breasts on perfect display for him the tntire time. Everytime you feel him finish licking up his cum, you scoop another mouthful of it into his mouth until there’s almost no sign of it at all.

“Next time you cum without mommy’s permission, you’re not going to get to cum at all, okay baby?” You ask, and he nods, a fucked out expression on his face telling you that he’d agree to anything you could possibly say in that moment.

You were growing to like this suggestion more and more…

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds smut

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imyourbratzdoll · 2 years

Note

hi bestie 🥺👉👈 I saw that your requests are open so… yandere!nomad!Steve falling for someone while on the run, he still wears disguises and stays low profile so it’s easy to follow her around, but he grows tired of the distance and strikes !! me thinks… he has her swooning immediately (after all, he already knows everything about her), and goes full daddy mode during their first time: rough and nasty but sweet, a dash of mean and condescending bc she fell right into his trap 🫶✨

hi, baby! I really hope you like this, and I'm sorry it took so long, I wasn't expecting a literal writing goddess to request something, so I wanted to make it as good as possible!🥺

summary - the moment steve saw you, he knew he needed to have you. so he thought the best way to get to know you... was to stalk you, what happens when he finally makes his move?

warning - stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, semi-public, smut, daddy kink, potential kidnapping.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips and @firefly-graphics

Steve couldn’t stop. For months, he’s been following you wherever you go, watching you. He’s even gone as far as stalking you to your home, sneaking a peek through the windows. His favourite part was when you slept, well, the second favourite. Nothing could beat watching you shower and lathering your nude form with lotions afterwards or the fact you’d take out your pathetic excuse of a toy and shyly play with your pretty little cunt.

A grunt falls from his lips as he tugs on his throbbing member. Steve’s lust-filled eyes focus on your exposed cotton white knickers, balls tightening as the cloth sticks to your folds. The thought of getting caught excites him even more. Steve watches your soft breasts bounce when you stand, and the sight causes him to pick up the pace.

When Steve feels his end approach, he stops and tucks his hard cock back into his pants. A dark smile forms on his face as he stands at full height. Steve’s grown tired of just watching you. He wants to feel you under him. He wants to make you moan his name instead of those pathetic ones you let out with your small toy.

The burly man takes long strides toward the naive woman. When he gets close enough, your vanilla perfume fills his senses. His cock twitches, and the excitement of finally talking to you, makes him nearly cum. He clears his throat as he stands behind you, needing your attention.

The squeak that leaves your mouth and how you look up at him with those doe-like eyes as you spin around. Nearly make Steve go feral, he offers a charming smile, hoping not to scare you away. Steve holds back a smirk as you relax under his gaze, “sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you look and had to come to introduce myself.” He puts a handout, nearly groaning when you slip your small one onto his. “I’m Steve.”

“I’m Y–Y/n” He brings her hand to his lips and gently kisses her flesh, enjoying how her cheeks turn a rosy pink.

“That’s a beautiful name, which doesn’t surprise me as you look like a goddess.” A smooth chuckle leaves his lips, his hand still holding yours as he looks down at you. “Would a gorgeous woman like yourself be willing to let me take her out?” A dark smile appears on Steve’s face when you nod, cheeks turning a darker shade of pink.

“D–Daddy! Too much! Ohhh.” Steve growls, slowly pulling his cock from your tight cunt only to thrust back in roughly. One hand grips your hip while the other pulls the front of your dress down, groaning as your breasts bounce free. Steve leans down and latches onto your nipple, grunting as you pulse around his thick, throbbing member.

“T–Too much? Is my cock too big for the poor baby?” His large form leans over your tiny body, squashing you further into the bed as his thrusts continue. “Weren’t you just begging me to fuck you, baby? I thought you said you could take me. Were you lying to me, sweetheart?” His cock throbs as you whimper, feeling his cock throb as thick tears roll down your face. You feel so full and split open at the same time your mind begins to go dumb. “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you can answer me. Don’t you want to make daddy happy?”

“I do! I do! I wan’ make daddy happy! F–Feels good, so good!” You babble, drool leaking out of your mouth and eyes rolling to the back of your head, legs tightening around his waist, wanting to feel him deeper. A whine escapes you as his thrusts become more brutal, causing your body to move up the bed. “Daddy! M–my daddy!”

Steve grunts, his darkened blue eyes glaring down at your sopping cunt, watching his cock pierce in and out of you. “That’s right, sweetheart. All yours, just like you’ll always be mine.” Your hands curl and grip the blankets, biting into your lip as you stare up at the god-like man. Steve deepens his thrusts. “You going to be my good girl and cum? Cover daddy’s cock with your juices?” You nod, whimpering and crying as your walls tighten and spasm around him. Steve groans as it becomes harder for him to pound into you. Using some of his super soldier strength, he pushes through. His eyes roll back as you squeeze his thick member. Juices squirt from your used hole, covering him and the sheets around you. Your body sags into the bed, and exhausted moans leave you when he continues to pound into you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as his balls tighten and his cock twitches. Steve buries deep inside you, letting go, spurts of his thick cum filling and leaking out of you.

You whimper when Steve pulls out of you, tiredly watching as he lifts his finger and collects the cum that leaks from your hole and pushes it back in with a curl of his finger. “D–Daddy…” Steve continues to thrust and curl his finger until you twitch and more of your juices coat him.

He takes his finger out and puts it into his mouth, groaning as he tastes you. His eyes roll back, sucking your juices off of his finger. Steve crawls beside you and pulls your used body against his large one, stroking your hair as you slowly drift off to sleep. “It’s okay, sweetheart….” He looks down at you and smirks, “You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back from you.” Steve leans down and presses a kiss on the top of your head whilst whispering. “And now that I’ve finally had you, I’m never letting you go. I love you too much to let you slip from my fingers, my sweet baby doll.”

He lies back, slowly drifting to sleep with you in his arms, smiling as he thinks of the cute little sounds you’ll make as you cry when you wake up and find yourself in an unknown place. Steve found you once and won’t let the last of his happiness disappear.

You will be Steve’s forever… whether you like it or not.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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uriwoos2 · 6 months

Text

The Last One. (ksw)

pairing: sunwoo x gn!reader. genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers. overview: sunwoo comforts you after an unpleasant event. you go for a drive in his car, in the sunset. a confession at the beach. kissing. word count: 3k. warnings: depictions of feelings of anxiety/social anxiety and loneliness; self-conscious and self deprecating thoughts. please avoid reading if you find these themes triggering. ♡ notes: I'm finally giving this a try! I'm super excited to write on here!! the beautiful pictures sunwoo posted on ig made me think of the idea for this fic. I got inspired to write it while I was feeling really down myself, and even though it's pretty self-indulgent, I felt like I could share it here, in hopes that this might comfort anyone else who needs it. it took me a week to finish this, but I enjoyed every moment of it. I'd love to hear what you think about it!! like & reblog if you enjoy <3 with love, cream.

♪₊˚ song: tejano blue — cigarettes after s*x.

it's so loud.

you can hear the noisy chatter of the people in your group, bantering and laughing out loud.

what are they laughing so much about? are they laughing about.. about me?

you sink in your seat, hands in pockets, body slumping even more than before, aiming to merge with the chair. your eyebrows set low, unknowingly glaring at the group.

"hey, you okay?" one of them calls out, making you perk up, but you know it isn't a genuine question, so you lower your eyes, nodding briefly.

a scoff. "it's no use talking to them, they're not gonna answer you." another voice retorts, clearly tipsy. you try to pay it no mind.

it was fine before, they didn't care much. why now?

but before you can come up with an answer to your own question, your thoughts are interrupted with laughter, even louder this time.

they're laughing at me.

the discomfort that gradually began setting in since you first stepped into the building, was about to overflow. so you go to stand up and leave, while your mind imagines the remarks they could be throwing at you.

"leaving already? so boring."

"they're so weird"

"wow, that's one scary kid."

"not worth our time."

"yeah, you better leave."

real or not, it didn't make much of a difference for you. you still cared, it still bothered you, no matter how miserable that might sound. the non-spoken words, thought up by your own mind, sharp and piercing, biting at your skin. you brushed your hands on both of your arms up and down roughly to rid your mind of the thoughts.

it burns.

so much for trying to socialise.

you awkwardly squeeze through people crowded in groups outside, keeping your eyes on the ground, paying no mind to where you're headed.

you just need to get away from there, as far as possible, and quickly. you don't even check your surroundings, as your legs seem to be taking charge right now, shaking but not able to stop moving ahead.

I'm so embarrassing. I'm so disgusting.

you're continuously reminded of what happened at the bar, the image seemingly stuck in your brain. the mocking laughter replaying over and over, taunting you, leaving no choice but to think about it.

why can't I just do it the way they can, what is wrong with me?

they all seem to like it.

why doesn't it come naturally to me too?

why do I have to force myself?

you walk with your head down, trying to hold in your tears. you knew this wouldn't end well, you didn't expect anything from it, and yet,

I'm pathetic. I'm disgusting. and I'm miserable.

I knew this wasn't a good idea, why did I even..

they all probably hate me now. the way I am.

I feel so sorry for myself-

there's a halt in you thoughts, as in your steps. you notice you've bumped shoulders with someone.

wait- what am I doing, where am I?

you frantically take a look around, only to find yourself in an unfamiliar place, yet again, the anxiety sets in. you have no way of telling where you are.

the sun will set soon, too. shit-

you walk around in hopes to find a way to get back to your place, maybe think of something. but, you remember-

sunwoo has my location! yes. he'll help.

you mentally thank yourself for thinking of that, taking your phone out to text your friend.

"changed my mind, come get me please."

the reply is almost instantaneous, as it always is whenever it's sunwoo you're texting.

"be there in 10. stay where you are."

a sigh of relief escapes through your lips, your shoulders feeling lighter, knowing you'll be on your way soon. but you still need to-

I have to go back to that place.

reluctantly making your way back to the bar, you linger nearby, just so sunwoo can find you, but far enough not to be spotted by anyone else. pulling your hood up, you put your hands in your pockets, shifting back and forth, unable to stay still.

it's fine. it's alright now. it's over. he'll be here soon. I'm okay..

letting a big puff of air out, you try to steady your stance, your breath shaky. you lean your elbows on the railing in front of some shop, as the light from inside gives you shelter from the darkness of the street.

I wish I didn't have to be like this.

you tuck your head into your arms.

this always happens, I don't know why I thought this time would be different.

I should've never come.

I'm shameful.

I'm ashamed!

regardless of your efforts to hold back, you still feel a single stubborn tear touch your skin, staining your sleeves. a sniffle. you can't be crying like this outside,

but I've already embarrassed myself anyway.

another involuntary sniffle, and a tear on the other side of your face. it's gotten colder. there's a warm hand on your shoulder.

frightened, your head springs up, eyes frantically searching for the person the hand belongs to. your body slackens in his grip. thank god. the hand on your shoulder moves to stroke your back.

"I'm here." a gentle smile.

you feel the tear streaks drying on the sides of your face in the light breeze as you look back at sunwoo. you're so drained that you feel as though you've lost the ability to form words, so you can only hope your eyes are able to relay your thoughts to him.

I'm exhausted.

sunwoo's gaze shifts between your eyes trying to gauge anything that hints at your mood. his other hand comes up to wipe your cheekbone. and it stays there, holding the side of your face.

a quiet gasp. "god, you're freezing! I should've been quicker. I'm sorry." he retracts his hand on your cheek. the one on your back guides you in a certain direction, your body completely relaxed and yielding in his hold. you're safe now, sunwoo knows what to do. you know to trust him.

before you know it you feel warm again. even though the roof of sunwoo's cabriolet is folded, even though it's even colder now, even though the breeze blows rougher. the warmth seems to be spreading from within, a feeling, your heartbeat slow and steady. sunwoo buckles your seatbelt for you and closes the door.

don't go.

he rounds the vehicle to get in his seat on the other side. you knew he wouldn't leave, but

still..

"I'll pull the roof back up in a minute." he has taken off his jacket and it's now spread over your lap. "I didn't know it'd get this cold, should've thought of fixing it before coming to get you." he halts his movements when he feels your hand on his arm.

I want to feel the breeze.

"you want me to leave it?" a mild nod from you, eyes downturned. he gazes back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "okay... but put the jacket on properly, the breeze is strong."

when you don't make a move to comply as he instructed, he leans over and carefully adjusts the jacket so that it covers more of you, giving you a sliver of a smile. a whispered, barely there "thank you" escapes through your lips, which he responds to by patting your head. he's so warm.

soon enough the blow of the wind picks up, as sunwoo starts driving. you lean your head back, resting it on the headrest. the bitter gusts of wind crash into your face, turning it red, keeping you awake. you can feel the frigid air burning your skin, soothing your body. your eyelids drop to focus on the feeling as you take in a deep breath.

that feels nice.

I can breathe again.

you open your eyes and look out the window. the city lights are harsh and bright, dazzling you, making you squint, your view of them softening.

"are you cold?" asks sunwoo in a low voice. yes. but it feels good. slowly tilting your head, you face him, beyond him a glimpse of the beach.

your gaze fixes on sunwoo, eyes listless. only now taking notice of his appearance. laid back in the seat, his elbow rests on the door, the other hand grips the wheel. his arms are bare, making your eyes linger. soon enough they shift to look at his dark hair flying around with the wind. thick eyebrows set firm in concentration. eyes half lidded, but alert. you can still see the restlessness in them. he keeps stealing sideway glances at you, eager to grasp your thoughts. you pay it no mind, because..

he's so beautiful.

and most of all, his skin is glowing golden even in the dark, now illuminated scarlet as you stop at a red light. he turns his head toward you, "hmm?"

ah,

you forgot he'd asked a question. that snaps you out of your dazed state effectively. blinking rapidly to rid your eyes of the haze.

shit, I got distracted.

clearing your throat, your voice raspy, "sorry. no, I'm not cold." you fidget with the sleeves of your hoodie. you hear him sigh softly. he's facing ahead again, the light green. "you.. are you okay?" you can hear the concern in his voice and your heart swells.

"yeah, I'm good." averting your eyes from his face, feeling sheepish.

your response doesn't seem to ease his worry, "you can talk to me, you know I don't mind. I'll listen." his words so gentle, you barely hear them.

he's so kind to me.

your eyes shift to your lap. sunwoo's jacket has slid down, and you can see your fingers picking at the skin on your hands.

why... does he treat me like this?

when other people seem to have given up on me completely?

he's too kind.

"I..." you try to form an intelligible sentence. an exhale- "I'm alright. I'm just fine.. if you're with me." you try not to look over at him. "everything sort of.. feels okay when you're here." you breathe deep, in and out. voice trembling, "I just want you to know that.. I'm thankful- for everything you do for me. even though, I don't get why you do this... I know I can be... difficult. to understand, and to talk to most of the time. I guess, I'm grateful that you try. and that you've kept me with you despite.. that, I don't give anything in return. and I'm sorry." you trail off, tears welling in your eyes. "anyway, just thank you." you finish with a sniffle.

sunwoo is quiet. you're too afraid to meet eyes with him, so you keep your head down.

why isn't he saying anything?

did I make him uncomfortable?

you wipe your nose with a sleeve. another awkward sniff.

should've just stayed quiet. it wasn't even that serious..

I'm sorry for being like this.

however, before your mind can make your grey thoughts into a whirlpool and suck you in, you see colors seep into the darkness. you look up in surprise and find the source. the car has come to a halt. the now setting sun seems to be casting the purple-pink light on the waves just before you.

"it has never once felt like that to me." you turn your head, the beams reaching his face too, making you stare. he's looking ahead.

"our.. friendship. I have never thought of it as a chore, a challenge- maybe. purely because we're so different from each other, there's a lot to consider. but.." he shakes his head, lowering it, "oh my god- I always thought of this-" he gestures between the two of you. "as something precious, something I needed to protect. if anything, it felt like it was you keeping me close." he brings his head back up, but still doesn't glance your way.

...what?

eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion, you question, "you.. but, why? there's nothing I have to offer, I mean.." he brings his head back up, concern evident in the way he looks at you. you avoid his eyes, bashful. "you're.. you're so ordinary. you know.. you can befriend anyone, do anything you want.. you're likable, and I don't know.. I'm- I'm just me. and I can barely take being alive, at least..." you sigh shakily, it's so hard to talk about this. "but that was before, now I don't think it's all that bad. and it's all because you came into my life." you didn't even notice you'd started to cry, until you felt sunwoo's thumb on your face, wiping the tears away. you let him, eyes glazed over.

he makes this even more difficult than it already is.

he retracts his hand. you shift your eyes once more. "you know, whenever I think of myself, I'm always out of place. nothing comes naturally to me, like it does with others, and it- it's so frustrating... it's lonely. and it makes me hate myself. but.. weirdly enough, all it took for me to feel at least a little bit normal, was one person who understood me, understood my pain. who listened to me. you're my link to the rest of the world, the only thing that keeps my feet on the ground. I- I really don't know where I would be right now, if you weren't by my side." you feel more silent tears escape.

my whole existence is disgraceful.

but I don't regret this, he has to know how much he means to me.

even if I look like shit in the process.

"I know it's selfish as well, that I wish for you to stay with me forever. but.. truly, you're the sole good thing in my life." you've never felt so exposed and vulnerable before, putting your heart on display, right in front of sunwoo.

"it isn't. selfish- I mean." he catches you off guard, so you turn to look. you notice colors dimming on his face, the sunset imminent. he's got a warm expression on his face, one full of tenderness. "well if it is, then I must be selfish too. because I can never imagine my life without you in it either." he leans over, resting his elbow on the armrest in-between your seats. "it honestly breaks my heart that you think that way about yourself, I wish I could take those feelings away from you.." he reaches over with his other hand and takes your hood off. you can feel your heartbeat pick up. "I don't know how much I'll be able to help, but I can promise, that I'll always try to. I'll be here, whenever you need me." his gaze shifts to the top of your head briefly, patting your hair into place. "and I need you with me, just as much. so, don't ever think like that, okay?"

you should've known better than to doubt sunwoo's feelings. he's the one that gets you, even if no words are exchanged. of course, he'd understand. he always has. I'm so grateful to have him. you feel emotional as you wipe the remainder of your tears, sunwoo waiting patiently. but.. it's hard to focus right now, when he's just

he's so close.

your heartbeat picks up, alerting you of the proximity between your faces. you can feel the heat of sunwoo's breath on your ice cold face, as you try to keep your own even. try to keep your mind clear, aware.

oh god...

he eyes your lips for a moment, and you can hear it in his slightly quickened breaths-

he feels it too.

your eyes lock, and you feel like you're going insane. with the way he's looking at you, gaze filled with longing. with the way his hand's still resting in your hair, tugging at it softly. with the way your heart just can't seem to calm. with the way your faces have frozen into place, neither moving an inch to break the distance. it all makes you want to..

I desperately want to kiss him.

"I want to kiss you." you're not even sure who asked the question, because it was whispered, and because you're too tired to make sense of anything. "...can I?" oh, it was him, after all. his voice so soft, but breathy- rushed with desire.

please.

instead of answering, you pull him in by the back of his head, rushing to connect your lips. your eagerness visible in the intensity of the kiss. this stuns sunwoo for a brief second, but he meets your lips, mouth turning up at the sides. he steadies the kiss, slowing you down.

..finally.

he holds you by the jaw. your lips moving in sync, almost naturally. you pull at his hair. you can feel him smiling into the kiss at that, letting out a deep whine.

he's driving me crazy.

the kiss can't last forever, having to pull away to take a breath. you can feel the dissatisfaction in the way sunwoo whimpers. it pleases you, to know he yearns for you the same way you do, for him.

I can't believe we just kissed.

your faces remain close still, seemingly unable to pull apart, now that you've connected. the sound of your heavy breaths and the waves crashing, the only thing to be heard. you wait for each other to regain oxygen back in your lungs. sunwoo's cheeks are flushed cherry, but you're sure yours are worse.

I can't believe I just kissed sunwoo.

he holds your cheek in his palm now, thumb stroking the blush on it, gaze filled with adoration. his eyes twinkling, telling you all you need to know about how he feels for you.

is this really happening?

sunwoo's half lidded eyes are relentless in raking over your face, noticing every detail, staring. but it isn't uncomfortable, you don't feel self-conscious. you feel seen.

"you're beautiful." he confesses with care.

he likes me.

he finds me beautiful.

his bold words don't make you question their genuineness. you feel confident in the way you look from his point of view, you know you're beautiful, because he sees it.

tightening your grip on his hair, pulling a strand, you look at his swollen mouth, your words coming out hushed, "you have no idea, how long I've waited for this." he ducks his head, smiling shyly. ...he's so.. cute.

bringing both of your hands together, you cup his flushed face.

pretty.

you take a moment to study him. he lets you. after a few moments of silence, he whispers "me too. I've longed for you.. without even realizing." he's a bit hesitant in his words, avoiding your gaze. you didn't know shy sunwoo would come as a punch to your heart, making your affection for him grow.

so adorable.

smiling softly, you lean in to taste his lips once more. this time you make sure to go slow and sunwoo melts into the kiss. he moves his lips according to your pace, kissing you back tenderly. you feel content in his presence, his lips touching yours, comfortable and familiar.

I feel so... warm.

you gently lift your lips from his, but stay near, foreheads joined together. you can feel the breeze biting. your mind screams at you, begging, to connect your mouth back with his again. sunwoo's low breaths grazing your lips not helping the case.

I miss his touch.

the side of his mouth upturned, as if reading your mind, sunwoo briefly brushes your lips with his plump ones.

I need more.

but brief isn't enough. you yearn for him, his touch in the way that wouldn't be sated with a momentary peck. a noise of frustration leaves your lips, and he catches on, finding your impatience cute.

a chuckle, his lips back on yours.

perfect.

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 1 month

Text

The Rift - Chapter Six

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: E (explicit smut, 18+ only)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: M/M/M/F dynamics, lots of m/m action, blow jobs, rimming, oral sex, unprotected PIV sex AND anal sex (this is fiction!!!). If I've left anything obvious out please let me know.

Summary: The tension between the four of you finally comes to a head.

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself. I'm honestly a little nervous to post this, because writing this was difficult (in the technical sense). Most of my mental energy was spent trying to keep track of what four people are doing at any given moment and trying to keep track of which Marcus is speaking, so I'm honestly not entirely sure if it's sexy or not. Let me know, LMAO.

Masterlist | Chapter Five | Next chapter>>

Marcus Acacius moves quickly. Sitting sideways on the couch, he gently guides you back against his chest.

“I cannot deny that I enjoy the hard angles of another man,” he says lowly, dragging his hands indulgently up and down the sides of your body, “but there is nothing quite like the softness of a woman. You,” he says to Marcus Pike, jerking his head toward the man next to him, “kiss him. He wants you to desperately, I can see it in his eyes.”

The Agent tears his gaze from the sight of you being caressed by the General and turns to Marcus Moreno.

“Desperately,” he teases, gently taking hold of the man's belt loops and pulling their bodies flush together.

“Exaggeration,” Moreno grins, but you can see the way his eyes are fixed on the other man's lips from the other end of the couch.

“Sure,” Marcus murmurs, and presses their lips together.

The Hero whimpers softly into the kiss, and the other man takes the hint and deepens it, tilting his mouth and bringing his hand up to guide Moreno’s jaw.

“Does it excite you?” The Roman rasps in your ear. He licks a stripe up the shell of it before continuing, “The sight of two beautiful men locked in an embrace?”

Giddily, you nod. In your wildest dreams you've never imagined seeing Marcus Pike quite like this. He kisses the other man with a gentle passion, but there's strength in his movements, a quiet command that leaves you with no doubt as to who is in charge.

And it's not the leader of the Heroics.

Marcus Moreno’s hands are clenched around fistfuls of the other man’s shirt, and when Pike’s tongue darts out to taste him, the sound that escapes the hero's mouth is nothing short of desperate.

You can see the way the Agent smiles into the kiss.

“Sorry,” the hero murmurs against his lips. “It's been too long, and I–”

“Shh, I know. It's okay.”

The General’s hands become bolder, teasing your breasts through your shirt and pressing gently against your clothed core. “I want to see their cocks,” he says, the movement of his lips tickling the skin of your neck. “What do you think?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathlessly. “Wanna see that.”

“The lady has spoken,” Acacius says imperiously. “I think you should obey.”

Moreno is already fumbling for the button on the other man's pants before the words have even left his mouth. The Heroic seems to take charge this time, spinning Pike around so that his back is pressed against his chest and he has easy access to hastily free the man's cock, barely opening his pants before wrapping his fist around it and pumping firmly. With his free hand, he manages to undo his own pants, roughly shoving them partway down his hips and pressing his bare cock against the other man's lower back.

“Fuck,” Marcus Pike gasps. “Shit.”

You pant breathily as the man behind you lightly pinches your nipples through your clothes. The Agent clocks it immediately, his eyes snapping to the two of you even as the hero continues to pump his cock.

“This man lied to me before,” the Roman growls in your ear. His hands go to the hem of your shirt as he slowly begins to peel it off and over your head. “He is so taken with you that he cannot determine whether the sight of me disrobing you makes him mad with desire or jealousy.”

“But I'm going to make him a deal,” he continues as he gently slides your leggings and underwear down your legs. “If he speaks the truth now, while my hands are on you, he will be the first to taste you.”

“Tell her,” Moreno murmurs playfully, nibbling on the man's earlobe. “It's more than obvious to everyone here.”

“Enamored,” Marcus says immediately, staring at you with pure, unadulterated adoration. “Besotted. Captivated. Enchanted. Completely and utterly fucked–I never even had a chance.”

“Come taste her lips,” the Roman orders softly, and Marcus is there in seconds, kissing you over and over while the General’s large hands cage your cheeks and guide you against his mouth.

“Thank you,” he moans over and over against your lips, never stopping the kiss. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The man behind you cards one hand through Pike’s hair as a reward, and he groans wantonly at the feel of him pulling softly on the strands.

“Come, Hero,” the General murmurs. “My lips have been left wanting.”

You feel the heat of the Hero’s body beside you as he joins the three of you in a heap at the edge of the couch. Acacius makes a soft sound in his chest that you feel, rather than hear as Moreno kisses him.

“We should go to your bedroom,” Marcus Pike says against your lips. “Not a lot of room on this couch.”

“You're going to have to let me up first,” you giggle breathlessly. He shows no sign of ceasing the endless kisses he bestows upon you again and again.

“Let us go,” the Roman says decisively. “More room is needed for all the ways I plan to enjoy all of you.”

It’s a miracle that the four of you make it to the bedroom, the way you all continue to reach for each other. The moment your Marcus comes up for air, the General kisses him hungrily in turn. You look shyly at the leader of the Heroics, biting your lower lip at the way his bare cock still juts proudly between his legs.

“Can I kiss her?” Moreno asks softly, but he’s already reaching for you.

Marcus Pike makes an enthusiastic noise of assent as the other man all but devours him, and the Hero huffs in amusement before bending down to gently capture your lips. The kiss is cautious at first, but when you drag your hands down your chest and lower, giving into the temptation to touch Marcus Moreno’s actual cock, he groans and pulls you roughly against him. He miscalculates his strength and sends the two of you stumbling into the other two men, who both make the same noise of surprise as the four of you tumble in a heap onto your bed.

“I wanna taste,” your Marcus begs as soon as he has you naked and spread out beneath him. “You promised me a taste.”

The Roman chuckles low in his throat. “I did promise, but it would be rude to keep her all to yourself, no?”

“What do you have in mind?” the Agent asks distractedly, his eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs as he lowers himself down onto his stomach before you.

“Think of how sweet her noises of pleasure would sound with a cock filling her throat.”

You whimper pitifully and give him a frantic nod. “Yes please,” you say quickly.

Pike laughs. “Greedy,” he teases gently. “We’re going to spoil you, aren’t we?”

He’s still smiling as he licks the first stripe through your wet folds, and you arch your back and gasp at the feel of his tongue. He buries himself between your legs like he no longer needs air, but his eyes are fixed on the way the Roman is undressing above him. Your eyes can’t settle between watching Marcus eat you out and admiring the broad, strong body beside you.

When the man’s cock bounces free, though, you can’t look away from his thick, heavy girth until suddenly, Marcus makes a desperate, broken yelp into your pussy. When you look back at him, the scene in front of you almost makes you come then and there.

The leader of the Heroics is on his knees too, with his face buried between the other man’s cheeks, moaning as he teases his puckered hole with his tongue. The sensation causes Pike to slump forward on his elbows, and he moans loudly over and over as he fucks you with his tongue.

“You are filthier than I expected, Hero,” the Roman teases. He takes your face in one hand and gently turns your head to the side. With the other hand, he slowly feeds you his cock. The weight of it fills your mouth, but he doesn’t push into your throat–not yet. He’s cognizant of his size, and clearly used to moving carefully. You whimper over and over around him, drunk on the feeling of Marcus’s tongue on your pussy and the other man’s cock gently fucking your mouth. You want more, though, and you try to move closer, bringing his cock further into your throat.

“Oh, she is greedy, is she not?” Acacius teases roughly. “She wants to be speared by your tongue and my cock.”

He gives you what you were desperately squirming for–pushing deeper into your throat until he’s buried almost to the hilt.

“What lucky men we are,” he praises you softly. “How well this pretty little mouth takes a cock.”

Marcus Pike’s hands are rough on your thighs as he expertly brings you barreling toward an orgasm. He’s still whimpering into your cunt as the man behind him pushes even deeper with his tongue. Marcus Acacius’s cock is choking you and making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen, and when you finally fall apart, you sob and moan and cry around him.

“Sweet girl, so good, takes a cock so well,” he rasps as he withdraws his cock from your mouth. You make a small sound of disappointment, and he chuckles. “The night has only just started, little dove, and there are countless other ways we are going to see you come undone.”

Your Marcus presses one last chaste kiss to the tip of your clit and then collapses on his back beside you on the bed, reaching for Moreno and pulling him until his head is resting on his glistening chest. The Roman lies down beside you as well, trailing his fingers up and down the soft well of your stomach.

“Tell me, little dove, have you ever taken three cocks?”

You nearly swallow your tongue. “...No?” you laugh nervously.

Marcus Pike chuckles and leans over to kiss your shoulder. “But what a sight that would make, hmm?” he teases.

“As pretty as she would look with that pretty cunt stretched around all of us,” Acacius chuckles, “I had something else in mind for tonight.”

“Plenty of time to fulfill every possible fantasy,” the Heroic remarks lightly, kissing a path down the Agent’s chest.

“Time tonight, or time in general?” Pike murmurs.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on leaving this bed for at least two days,” Moreno jokes.

“Handsome,” Acacius murmurs, capturing Pike’s lower lip between his thumb and forefinger and rubbing gently back and forth. “Have you been taken by a man?”

Marcus grins. “It’s been a long time, but yeah.” He cards his fingers through the hair of the man still resting on his chest. “You?”

The heroic flushes. “I’m… I’m usually the one doing the taking,” he admits with a little shrug.

The Roman laughs. “You haven’t experienced all that pleasure has to offer until you have tried both.” He brushes your hair back from your forehead. “But I still want to give your beloved a little reward for his earlier honesty.”

You smile conspiratorially. “I’m listening.”

“He wants to be the first to claim you tonight,” he remarks. “And I find I wish to be the first to claim him.”

Your Marcus shudders and groans deep in his chest. “Fuck. Maybe I should be worried about the three of you spoiling me.”

“It would please me to be taken by you,” Acacius says to Moreno, who swallows thickly in anticipation. Turning to you, he asks, “Do you have oil?”

“I–I’ve got lube,” you say with a shrug.

“This word is not being translated,” he frowns.

“It’s like oil,” Pike explains. “But intended only for sex.”

“I like this time more and more,” Acacius says, and laughs at his own joke.

You reach into the bedside table and bring it out of the drawer, handing it to the Roman. He inspects it with curiosity before popping open the lid and spreading some on his fingers and cock. He hands it to Moreno, who takes it, holding the man’s eyes with an intense, burning gaze.

“Lie down on your side,” the Roman orders. “It will be easier that way with so many of us.”

“Done this before, have you?” the Agent jokes as he obeys, gently rolling you over on your side and then spooning behind you.

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Marcus Acacius takes his place next to Pike, grasping his hip and nipping his neck playfully. “Enter her, but do not move,” he murmurs into his ear.

“Give me some of that,” your Marcus says, holding his hand out toward the leader of the Heroics, who squeezes a little bit on his palm. He slicks his cock, and then gently rubs the rest over your folds, dipping his fingers into you just slightly. “I’ve thought of this,” he murmurs to you as he lines up his cock. “Well, not exactly this scenario, but I’ve certainly wished for this.”

“This night wasn’t in your wildest dreams?” you tease as the tip of him breaches you. You exhale shudderingly as he buries himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

“He has thought of all of us separately,” The Roman says confidently. Marcus gasps softly in your ear as the man’s finger eases inside.

“H-How on earth do you know that?” Pike asks disbelievingly.

“I did not,” he answers. “But now we all know it to be true.”

“Two thousand years between our times, and somehow you’re still a bastard.” Pike grunts. “Shit!” he yelps suddenly–you assume the Roman cheekily added another finger in retribution.

“Behave, or I will give you my cock before you are ready,” he growls playfully. You see Marcus Moreno shift behind him, and the Roman lets out a deep rumble of approval as the other man begins to work him open.

Your Marcus plays with your clit absentmindedly, making soft sounds of pleasure in your ear as the man behind him continues with his fingers.

The room is quiet for a little while, filled only with the soft noises of enjoyment from each of you until Marcus Pike finally breaks the silence.

“Enough teasing, just do it,” he murmurs, reaching behind him to pull at the Roman’s thick cock.

You expect the man to tease, but he has nothing to say for once. He presses himself flush against the other man and slowly pushes in.

You know the moment his cock breaches him by the way your Marcus’s hands suddenly flex and grip you with white knuckles. You do your best to soothe him, reaching back to stroke his cheek and whispering sweet nothings interlaced with what you’re sure is nonsense.

“Oh, fuck,” he whipmers over and over. “Oh shit–fuck–oh my God…”

You hear the Roman softly murmuring in his ear, telling him to relax, to let him in. When he’s finally buried to the hilt–and fuck, you know from how deep his cock could reach down your throat that Marcus must be completely overwhelmed by the man’s size–Acacius reaches for Marcus Moreno.

You’re suddenly hit with the strange thought that all four of you are now connected to each other. It’s intensely intimate; you can feel the breaths of all three men behind you, can sense the rise and fall of their chests. The Roman reaches his arm around both you and Marcus, grasps one of your breasts, and uses the leverage to pull you closer together–and burying himself even deeper.

“What now?” you hear the Hero whisper humorously behind you. You can tell he’s half-joking, half-earnest, unsure, as you are, of how the four of you… begin.

“We move together,” Acacius says simply. “In unison. Here, I will–”

He flexes his hips, pushing Pike further into you and eliciting another broken moan from the man currently buried deep in your pussy.

“This way is more slow, but easier to manage all of the limbs, yes?” he says playfully.

“I can’t imagine the feeling of taking you fast,” the Agent jokes.

“Next time.”

“That’s fine, because I–oh, fuck–I’m not gonna last, feels too good.”

“Mmhmm,” Marcus Moreno moans in agreement. “Forgot how good it feels to–hnng–”

“Make her come,” the Roman commands. “No one comes until she does.”

“Come for us,” Marcus agrees as he rubs circles into your clit. “Please, baby, before I can’t hold it in any longer.”

One of the men increases the speed and intensity of the thrusts, and all of you moan in sync. You can hear all three of them praising you, pleading with you to come, baby, come for us and it doesn't take much more for you to fall apart in their arms.

Marcus Pike follows almost immediately–the added stimulation of you clenching around his cock pushing him over the edge with a strangled cry, overcome by the intensity.

Moreno’s hips stutter too, and he pushes deep with one last thrust and empties himself into the General.

“Sweet boy,” the man croons, soothing the man in front of him as he chases his own end. He’s sensitive post-orgasm, and he whimpers softly at each punch of Acacius’s cock against his prostate until he finally stills, one hand holding Pike steady as he spills inside of him.

The Agent curls into you, his chest heaving and his forehead slick with sweat, and completely overcome.

“That was—wow,” he pants under his breath.

Marcus Acacius chuckles softly as he carefully separates from the man, eliciting one more broken groan into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

“You okay?” you ask softly.

“Mmph,” he answers.

“He appears to be completely spent,” the Roman teases.

“He’s not the only one,” Moreno laughs, pulling out and collapsing on the pillows with a satisfied sigh. “That was incredible.”

“I will return shortly,” Acacius says abruptly, and gets up from the bed, striding confidently into your bathroom.

The Heroic flops over into the empty space and curls against the Agent’s back with a soft noise of contentment.

“I had further plans for tonight,” Acacius says as he returns carrying a warm, damp cloth, “but it appears they will have to wait until after you have rested.”

Despite his bravado, he cleans the three of you with a soft tenderness that makes you ache inside. When he finishes, he carefully places the cloth into the basket you’d instructed him to place his dirty clothes weeks ago, and comes back to lie down behind the Hero, snuggling up against him with a little wiggle of his hips.

“Someone turn the light off,” Pike grumbles.

“Not it,” you murmur back.

“I’ve got it.” Moreno tiredly extends his hand. Across the room, a little metal tin that once used to contain tea bags and now holds safety pins rises up from your dresser and levitates across the room to the lightswitch. It hovers over the little lever and then descends, flicking the switch off and bathing the room in darkness.

#marcus pike #marcus moreno #marcus acacius #the mentalist #we can be heroes #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal

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kittysarchive · 4 months

Note

you blog aesthetics is so pretty!!!! I LOVE IT.

can you write it when enhypen members finds out your fan fix blog and makes it a reality

Ahh I'm glad you like my theme :) this can be read as any member

warnings- smut, fem reader, sub reader, embarrassment, mean dom? slight begging kink, choking, cream pie

"Hey.... Y/N?" Your head perks up, walking towards the voice.

"Yeah?" You question, peeking over your boyfriend's head. Fuck. He found your blog. Littered with smut and stories, most being actual things he has done with you.

You gulp, not sure of where this was going.

"It was left open on your computer..." A blush spreads across your cheeks. He knows you red it, does he know you wrote it as well?

"I...." Trying to find an excuse, anything.

"You've been reading all the things I could do to you. Why didn't you just ask me?" He smirks, you face heats up again. You knew where this was going.

"I thought... you might think it was weird" He scoffs at your answer, standing up from the chair, he hovers over your frame.

"If you wanted me to treat you like a slut you could have just asked" Smirking again, he knew you wanted. Meekly, you nod your head. Taking you hand, he leads you too the kicthen.

"Always wanted to fuck you here" He hums, unzipping his fly. Hands shaking with excitement as you stripped you only clothes.

"But what I find funny" He started, "Is that you were the one who wrote it all" Feeling your body pulse, you really wanted him know. You couldn't delete the blog later, or at least fake it. Right now, you needed him.

Moving on, his jeans and boxers collect at his ankles. Hard cock springing out and slapping his chest, all full and red to take you, to fuck you hard just like you wrote. Jumping up onto the kitchen counter, you sit close to the edge.

"Good girl" He praises you, opening your legs. almost drooling at the sight of your wet pussy, glistening in the light.

"Your wet already? Dirty girl" Taking his time, his hands glide over your thighs, getting closer and closer to your heat.

"Just fuck me already" You breath out, not able to take this torture any longer. Looking up, he smirks.

"If that's what you want" Pulling you close, almost of the counter, he aligns himself with your entrance. Shoving in his hard member into your wet pussy.

"You like it huh, me being rough with you?" You nod your head, biting your lip to conceal your moans.

"Feels so good" You whine out, releasing the compressed moans, spreading your legs further out he pistons into you. Hard and fast, not deep.

His cock moving fast, barely going through your pussy leaves you panting, the sheer strength and energy he had to force himself at a fast speed, to hold your body still.

"What else did you write about me?" He asked, loosing breath as he pace finally slowed down. You struggle to answer him.

"C-choking me" He cocks an eyebrow, not expecting that as an answer. Yet in the heat of the moment, he slides your body of the counter. Cock pressed against your stomach; your body is roughly pushed against the pantry draw. Leg lifted over his hips, his cock in deep.

"Never knew you were this dirty" Finally he brings a hand to your neck, gripping it as his cock slides in and out of your sore pussy. Nodding your head, you can't make any words, only pathetic whines and moans, begging for more.

"Harder?" He teases, gripping your neck harder. Seeing stars, you clench hard around his cock. Laughing at how you reacted. Pace slowing down as he was reaching his high, his tone changes.

"You should have told me this before" In almost a whiny voice, his hips roll up again. Finding all types of friction, finding ways to feel your pussy more before he painted it with his seed. Letting go of your neck, you cry out.

"Can't hold any longer" You gasp out, eyes wide as you fight back the wave of pleasure. Giving you no answer, you release the weight. Moaning loudly, you cream all over his cock, body tingling, you don't notice him filling you up.

Creaming at the base of his cock, his thrusts slow down. Having filled you to brim, his own cum mixes with his own at his base.

"T-thankyou" You quickly say, holding onto him for support, you felt so sore.

#enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen #enhypen smut links #dom enhypen #rough dom #sub reader #fem reader

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

Text

Begin Again

Chapter 1: Aux Portes de la Mort

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, blood & gore, scary situations, mentions of death ❧ Word Count: 7.6k

❧ In This Chapter: When you and Daryl awaken in an unknown land, far away from home, the world becomes twice as dangerous as it once was, with a whole new breed of dangers lurking around every corner. You have no choice but to begin again on a new mission: Get. Back. Home.

❧ A/N: IT'S HERE. I'm so excited to be writing for them again ugh it's been too long. I love this reader because she has all that history with Daryl from the first series so it's a real treat to keep all that in mind when I'm writing their scenes together. Also I am posting this before the premiere of the show. This chapter is based on the events of the sneak peek that was released on AMC+! So here ya go, the first chapter! Shoutout to Dahlia (@simpbyday) for helping me with the French translation for the title. She will be my official French language correspondent throughout this process. And if anyone else also knows French, I would love to get feedback on my usage of French throughout the series as well! <3

“Near death” did not mean much to you anymore.

You were either dead or alive, nothing in between. That’s how you felt about it now. There were few areas in life that were black and white to you, and that was one of them. If you were alive, you were alive. Maybe you’d be a little worse for wear, but you were alive. That was the important thing.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway. As a way to condition yourself, to be stronger. For Daryl. For Robin. For Wes. You had to be strong for them. Maybe that’s what got you into this mess.

No, Daryl did. Daryl got you into this: tied loosely to the back of a lifeboat, one foot missing a boot and hanging off the edge, dangling pitifully in the ocean as the small vessel drew you closer to the shore.

You might’ve stayed asleep if it weren’t for the splashing sound, followed by the familiar grunts and wheezes of gasping breath. You felt the rope across your hips pull in the other direction, where Daryl fought with the current to come back to the air. Through heavy eyes, crusted by a long sleep and sensitive to the bright light of what must’ve been mid-afternoon, you saw him struggle to lift the rope from his body as a wave pummeled him back down below the water.

Your throat burning, rendering you unable to so much as cry out his name, you freed yourself from the rope, sliding into the water. What happened next would fade into the obscurity of rumbling waves carrying your weak bodies closer to shore, until the feeling of ground underfoot welcomed you.

But that feeling was short-lived. As soon as your feet felt the sand, you were knocked down by another wave. Now you could only crawl, with what little strength you had left. Even Daryl, so very hearty and always physically stronger and more durable than yourself, began to stagger, falling less than gracefully to his knees just a few feet from you. There was no need for verbal recognition or even touch—you felt him there, crawling beside you, alive.

Now with only your feet still clinging to the sea, your arms gave out underneath you, like two pieces of boiled spaghetti, limp and sprawled out not far from Daryl, who lied with his face pressed against the sand, his wet hair shrouding any semblance of his visage.

Though you could hear his sharp breaths, his heavy pants that withdrew with high-pitched whimpers that sent a shiver down your spine, you could hardly tell if he was moving.

Momentarily frozen, you gathered all your strength to extend your arm across the sand. Your fingers stretched out to the fullest extent, crawling like a spider until finally you gripped his hand, entwining your fingers with his and shaking it roughly, urging him to move.

You had been near death enough to know that the worst thing to do was to stop moving. That was like accepting death, and wherever you were now, you weren’t going to face it without him.

Your movement brought him to life as he lifted his head, his sight first taking in his surroundings—a beach.

And not far in the distance, a small blue bucket.

You followed his gaze, which seemed transfixed on the object, partly buried by the wet sand that must’ve remained untouched for God only knows how long.

Having a near encyclopedic understanding of Daryl’s mind, you knew what he was thinking of—survival. There was water in that bucket. Sandy ocean water, but water nevertheless.

All you could think of, though, was how familiar that little bucket was. Robin had one just like it. Last time you’d taken her and Wes to Oceanside, they played on the beach for hours, making sandcastles with her little bucket and shovel that she’d gotten for her seventh birthday last May. Somehow she’d convinced Daryl to let her bury him under the sand. You had the Polaroids to prove it somewhere in one of the pockets of your vest, if they hadn’t been lost to sea.

The memory faded quickly, as he pulled you up, still holding your hand. At least now he was moving, dragging you and himself towards the bucket.

He’d let go of your hand to pick it up, digging out as much sand as he could before handing it to you. Without a word, you brought the rim of the bucket to your lips, taking just a few sips, despite the painful drought in your throat.

Daryl took the rest, downing the sandy saltwater like it was the nectar of life, and here, at the gates of death, it was.

When the water was gone, he let the pail fall back to its final resting place. You couldn’t bring yourself to even raise your head. You could only watch it fall, the bright blue plastic taking you back to a time that seemed so far away now, to a world you wished you’d never left.

But Daryl, ever the pragmatist, always planning the next move, was already narrowing his eyes, looking around for the answer to that burning question that lingered between the two of you—where the hell are we?

You could’ve looked at that little bucket forever, if he hadn’t tugged on your hand, not unlike how you’d done so to his just minutes ago.

“C’mon.”

The further the two of you walked, slowly, limping, the more you began to take note of your surroundings, without too much thought of the complete and utter shit you two were both in. For all the differences between you, you both knew one thing was true—there was no point in dwelling on how you got here, the only thing that mattered was getting back home. That was the unspoken truth.

As you walked further, the sand beneath your feet turned into concrete. Some kind of parking structure, or what once was. You passed the rotting, rusted shells of cars, their windows smashed and their hoods lifted, no doubt due to survivors looking for parts to salvage. A clump of neglected bicycles leaned against a graffitied pole. Like most graffiti, you couldn’t make out what it said.

Passing a small overgrown boat, you spotted a signpost not too far away. You walked ahead of Daryl, all too eager to see what it said. The letters were faded, but you could make out the arrows, meaning it would point you in whatever direction you needed to go in. That was all you needed now: direction. Some delusionally hopeful part of you, deep down, wanted to believe the sign would display the word “HOME” with an arrow accompanying it, leading the way without confusion or ambiguity.

But of course, you knew that was impossible. Still, you did not anticipate what you saw.

Squinting your tired eyes, your weakened legs slowed to a halt as the sign’s lettering came into view. Your heart sank as you stepped back, almost terrified of what you read. But you backed against Daryl’s chest, which caught you before you could lose your balance from the shock of the realization.

You could not read the sign.

Pla… place de… ste?

Port de… Martegues?

… Cimetiere?

Shit.

Some kind of port city, somewhere in France.

That’s what you decided upon, in the silence of your heavy thoughts as you walked together aimlessly, still not speaking. How could you speak to him? What was there to say? You had no hope now. It was gone, and usually, that was the only thing that kept you talking in times like these.

And Daryl, he could go hours without speaking, if he had nothing to say.

He, too, was at a loss for words. After all, he knew he’d gotten you into this. He knew none of this would’ve happened if he’d just… It didn’t matter now, though. What mattered was getting home.

But you weren’t safe here.

You always knew that the whole world must’ve fallen, of course. When everything happened, the world went dark. France was no exception. The state of the place was proof enough. In this old city, with cobblestone streets littered in the abandoned remnants of a once prosperous civilization, every corner you turned was the same—empty, ruined, overgrown.

By some instinct, you both walked along a path just on the edge of a canal that seemed to run through the city. Perhaps it was just a gut feeling, or perhaps the both of you knew to stay close to the water, on the off chance that you’d find some kind of seafaring vessel. Though you still couldn’t shake the taste of saltwater, you knew that the only way you could get back home was to get back on the water. That was your priority.

Sure enough, you came upon a boat, moored at the edge of the path, floating upon the water, and looking as though it had been there for centuries.

Just outside the boat on the cobblestone path, it looked as though someone had set up camp, once upon a time. Whoever had been there, though, they were long gone. As you passed a desiccated corpse, completely barren of flesh with a long fisherman’s spear skewered through its head, you wondered if this body had once held the poor soul of the boat’s former occupant. You didn’t wonder for long, though, as these days, you’d seen enough dead bodies to almost completely desensitize you from any human curiosity. Now, it was just a bag of bones.

Approaching the stern of the vessel, Daryl went into the cabin first, his sights set on the wine bottles perched on a wooden shelf, in the hopes that maybe they’d contain some water. He picked them up one by one, shaking them. Nothing at all.

You busied yourself, rummaging through a bag you found hanging from a nail near the door. Your hand gripped on some long, cylindrical plastic, ribbed and seemingly filled with liquid.

“Daryl.”

You held the water bottle out towards him as he turned around. You hadn’t caught a good glimpse of his face yet, until now.

The skin of his face and neck were reddened terribly by the sun, but that didn’t worry you as much. It was the scarlet red cut stretching diagonally over his forehead, and the paleness of his lips, dry and dehydrated. The saltwater you both drank earlier only made the thirst more potent.

Deciding he needed the water more than you, you pressed the bottle to his chest, despite his brief protest that he gave with only a knowing look on his face, as if to say: You drink first.

You returned the look, but with more conviction as you shoved the bottle harder now, as if to say: No. Drink.

Reluctantly, he did, drinking less than half before handing it back to you, with the same force you applied when giving it to him, and the same stern, protective look: Drink.

You took the rest of the water, wincing at the aged taste. But you drank it down slowly, steadily, the cooling liquid coating your barren throat.

Lost in the brief relief it gave you, you hadn’t noticed Daryl’s continued russling as he pillaged the tiny boat cabin, looking for anything and everything that could somehow be useful.

As you used your long, torn sleeve to wipe away the dripping water from your chin, you were startled by the sudden sound of a man’s voice, not Daryl’s.

With a flinch, you turned around to see Daryl, sitting at the small dining table, holding a tape recorder.

“Nineteen months at sea,” said the man’s garbled voice, with an accent you deemed to be Irish. “Hoping to stay ahead of this thing.”

On the table before him was a map of Europe, and a photo of a family. There was a man that must’ve been the owner of the voice you listened to now. Beside him was a woman, his wife, Daryl assumed, because on her lap was a little girl, holding a large stuffed penguin, about half the size of her. She couldn’t have been older than Robin, he thought.

They looked happy, all smiles. Somewhere in one of his pockets, he was sure he had a picture that looked almost exactly the same, only with his family—Robin, Wes, Dog, you. He quickly willed the thought away, though. If he kept thinking about it, he was sure he’d break down, when at this point, what he needed to be the most was strong.

“Circled Spain,” the voice continued. “Nowhere safe… We’ll try Marseille next. Maybe the south of France is good… There’s got to be a safe place somewhere.”

You were sure you’d uttered that phrase once. Maybe around the same time he did. Just goes to show how much this world changes you, which was saying something—you always believed the world hadn’t changed you nearly as much as it changed everyone else. But you knew now that there was no safe place in this world, except in the arms of the ones you loved. And even then, that was only a metaphor. But you had to believe it, to convince yourself it was true. Otherwise, you were no different than the dead.

Night was closing in. There was no more time to waste.

Still without hardly more than a one-word sentence exchanged between you, you got to work setting up a night’s worth of camp, while Daryl speared a fish in the canal. Just one was all the energy he had, but it was more than enough for the both of you. A white fish of decent size, which Daryl cooked over the makeshift barbecue near the boat.

Sitting on the boat, you got a lantern working, providing just enough light to see what you were doing as you tried to filter the muddy canal water through the mesh lining of a jacket you’d found inside the boat. Across the way, you’d glimpse at Daryl, now draped in a tarp he’d fashioned into a poncho, in only the way Daryl could even think of doing.

His tired face was illuminated by the fire over which he cooked the fish, turning it over with a small knife until it was cooked through. You wondered what on Earth was going on in his head, if he was as frightened as you were, if he had any hope left.

You didn’t have much hope anymore. Not now.

In this world, you’d found that your hope had been tested constantly, but only a handful of times did it try you like this. When the farm fell, when you lost the prison, when the Saviors took Daryl…

But you always got it back. You always found your strength again.

You weren’t sure if you could get it back this time.

Still, you had Daryl. If you were alone, in a strange place, thousands of miles from home, you were sure you would’ve given up by now. But he was here.

The silence between you persisted into the night, as you sat across from each other, under the dark blanket of the night sky, eating the charred fish straight off the bone, with only the dim flickering light of the lantern just barely lighting your faces.

When the silence became unbearable, Daryl had pulled the tape recorder from his pocket, playing it again, as if he found comfort in the man’s voice, despite the ultimate tragedy that must’ve occurred.

“Sue had a heart attack.” You could only assume that was the name of his wife, the woman in the photograph. “I had to… take care of it.”

You’d heard stories like that before, of someone having to put down their loved one before or, God forbid, after they turned, but it would never cease to send a shiver down your spine. The thought of having to do that to Daryl… It was a nightmare you’d had more than once.

“Our tenth anniversary would’ve been in June… Holly keeps crying. She wants her mum back.”

That was when you stopped eating, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“She wants things the way they were.”

You swallowed hard in an attempt to suck down the lump forming in your throat.

“She wants to go home.”

“Turn it off.”

The sudden sternness in your voice nearly surprised him, or maybe it was just how many words you spoke at once.

He grabbed the recorder and turned it off with a sharp click, restoring the heavy silence that lingered like a thick fog between you.

Daryl watched intently as you hugged your legs against your chest, your eyes downcast and glued to the worn and torn stuffed penguin, buried underneath some ropes and an empty old fuel tank. You recognized it from the photo.

He could read the look on your face, and the thoughts that he knew were flying through your head at a thousand miles an hour. He knew that you were thinking about home, about your family. Still, he couldn’t shake this discomfort. This quiet.

For all the years he’d known you, he’d never gone this long with such silence between the two of you. Of course, he’d been separated from you before for much longer, but together? You were hardly ever at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time you were like this, but he didn’t like it. Funny, Daryl was always the quieter one, the one who more often than not needed to be coaxed into talking. He always preferred the quiet, but this was unbearable.

He needed to hear your voice, now more than ever. He needed your hope.

“You haven’t said more than three words since we got here.”

Washed up here, your mind corrected.

He leaned forward stiffly, still eying you, despite your gaze still transfixed on the once pristine stuffed animal.

Several painful moments passed. Daryl couldn’t take it anymore. He’d beg for you to speak, to say anything to him. All he wanted was to hear you.

“Please.” His voice was low, soft. It was always like that with you, but something about it now seemed more desperate. “Please say somethin’.”

Finally, you raised your head slowly, meeting his silvery blue eyes, visible through several loose strands of hair that framed his face. If you were in better spirits, you might’ve smiled, just seeing his face, despite how badly he was in need of a good shower. You were sure you looked rather filthy yourself.

But you couldn’t smile. You couldn’t even imagine such a thing. The last time you smiled seemed so far away, you could hardly even remember it.

“What do you want me to say?” Your voice was shaky, hoarse, tired. He’d been with you through Hell and back, and back again, and yet he’d never heard your voice so defeated, so… lost.

“I don’t know,” he replied simply, still holding your gaze. Now, you both stared intently, as if battling to see who could dare to look away first. “I just…” As he trailed off, his eyes sank in defeat. He’d lost the battle. “I’m sorry.”

With a sniffle, you replied. “What are you sorry for?”

It took him several moments to speak, as he tried to compose himself. If he opened his mouth too soon, he might start crying, and despite how much you encouraged him to be vulnerable, to not neglect his emotions around you, he could never fully let himself cry in front of you without feeling that ingrained sense of failure and inadequacy, like he wasn’t the strong man you needed, no matter how many times you reminded him of how strong he was.

“For gettin’ you into this.”

Your lip quivered, your eyes softened.

He continued, “If I hadn’t asked you to go with me—”

“Then you’d be sitting here, across the world, alone, and I’d be in Alexandria worried sick about you.”

“But you’d be safe,” he said, an almost imperceptible shake in his voice as he was reminded of the danger you were now mired in, all thanks to him.

“How many times have I told you… I’m safest when I’m with you.”

That thought was nice, but it still could never completely alleviate Daryl’s worries.

And there was another reason he wished he hadn’t asked you to come along.

“But you’d be with the kids.”

Your eyes sank as though they were anchored to the floor of this decrepit old boat. He knew that would get you, you were sure. He knew that, besides him, you loved your children more than anything else, and being so far away from them, lost with no immediate hope of seeing them again, was crushing you.

A silence befell you, and Daryl felt like he lost you again. God, all he wanted was to hear you. Your voice was the most comfort he could have right now, just to know you were near.

Now Daryl looked down, focused on the mud caked around his brown boots. He raised his hands to his face as he huffed.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t angry. Just sad.

With a sniffle, you looked back up. He still sat with his head in his hands, until he lifted his eyes above his fingers just enough to see you.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice a cracking whisper.

“Nah,” he said abruptly. “Nothin’s okay.”

Daryl always had that bad habit of blaming everything on himself. You knew it well. It frustrated you—his inability to give himself any credit and his tendency to dwell on his flaws instead of celebrating his accomplishments. Granted, one of the many traits you admired about your husband was his humility, but sometimes, you wished he would consider the things he’d done right instead of all the things he did wrong.

You raised yourself to your feet, crossing the boat to sit beside him. He did not look your way or pay you much attention, still lost in his thoughts. Still, you carefully, slowly, wrapped your arm around his waist and his shoulders, holding him.

He was stiff, but under your touch, he slowly began to soften, as he always did. It was then he had realized how long it seemed he’d gone without your touch like this. You’d been with him the whole time, but survival did not allow for many moments of pure, gentle intimacy between two lovers.

“We’re alive,” you whispered. As you leaned against him, you pressed a small, but firm, kiss to his cheek. “We’re together.”

Without a word, he gave you a knowing glance. He narrowed his eyes almost suspiciously, while he chewed his bottom lip in deep thought. He didn’t need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking.

You smiled. “One of us has to be the positive one. We can’t get anything done if we’re both sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“It’s shitty,” you said. “This is a shitty situation… Maybe the worst situation we’ve been in, but we’re going to get back home.”

Though you spoke with conviction, you weren’t entirely sure that you really believed the words you spoke. It was hard to believe. It was hard to believe you were here in the first place. Nevertheless, you’d die trying to get back home, to see your children again, to watch them grow.

There was no way in Hell you were going to sit back and do nothing.

To your relief, Daryl’s hand found yours, curling around it and squeezing it tight. He nodded, then raised your hand to his lips.

“Yeah. We will.”

You smiled as you roamed his face, finding comfort in the familiarity. In this world of uncertainty, this new world where neither of you belonged, you found safety in each other—you saw Alexandria in his face. All the memories. It was like a photo album, everything flashed before your eyes. You saw Robin, Wes, Aaron, Lydia, Maggie, Michonne, Rick… everyone. Everyone you loved, alive or dead, all in him.

And in you, he felt the same, but not only that. He saw everything beautiful and pure in this world, everything worth protecting and keeping alive. As you held him, he held your face, his thumbs moving gently over the apples of your cheeks.

Your face was worn, tired, with a few knicks and scratches scattered about over your usually smooth and unblemished skin, but nothing could distract from the perfection of your features that he knew and adored so well.

And you, you couldn’t help but eye that nasty cut on his forehead. You swept away the stray pieces of hair that obscured the cut, then huffed. Though you had already washed the cut with water, you were itching to find a real first aid kit to prevent infection. The one on the boat was cleaned out, and whatever first aid kit you had brought with you was in a bag lost at sea.

“S’fine,” he said, knowing full well what you were thinking. “M’fine.”

“It’s just… I don’t like it.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“We’ll find something to help it. If I could get my hands on some calendula or even some marshmallow…”

That thought prompted you to look around, the darkness of the empty waterway in the desolate, ruined city. Even if you could find some herbs with healing properties here, you wouldn’t know where to start looking.

The south of France wasn’t exactly the same as Virginia in terms of flora and fauna.

“First thing we gotta find is a way back,” he replied.

“We could fix up this boat.” Daryl’s mechanic expertise started and stopped with cars and motorcycles, but you figured a boat couldn’t be much different.

“Nah. Engine’s shot, and I dunno the first thing ‘bout how boats work, anyway.”

“Well… We’ll just have to find another way. There have to be people somewhere.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow as he chewed the last of his fish. “You remember what happened the last time we asked a bunch of strangers for help?”

Ah, yes—the Commonwealth.

At least that turned out in your favor, eventually. It took almost a year of turmoil, but in the end, it was worth it.

“Daryl, I don’t see any way out of this without some help. Besides, we haven’t seen any walkers yet… Maybe France is faring better?”

“Or maybe they’re all dead.”

“Stop it. That’s not true.” You held his cheek and turned his face towards you. “You know it’s not true… It can’t be.”

The rest of that night passed slowly, quietly. Maybe it was out of habit, or just his need to be aware of his and your surroundings at all times, but Daryl spent a good fifteen minutes checking out the general vicinity, scanning the perimeter around the little boat on which you busied yourself by fashioning a bed of sorts out of pieces of seats and blankets.

Daryl returned not long after he left, with a curious trinket in his hands: a Barbie doll.

You looked up at him from the makeshift bed. He took the liberty of posing the little blonde doll, sitting her atop the small dining table with her arm raised as if she were waving. Her hair was only slightly mangled, but you knew many tricks when it came to freshening up Barbie dolls and making them good as new for Robin, and sometimes Wes, to play with.

“Only you could find a Barbie doll in France,” you said.

“It’s not just any Barbie doll,” he said, sitting himself down beside you with a huff. Gravity forced his body to the bed. Well, bed was a generous term for the dismantled chair covered with blankets. “It’s a veterinarian.”

You studied the doll closer from a distance. Indeed, she had a little white doctor’s coat and a pink stethoscope. You would’ve thought she was actually a doctor Barbie, but only a trained, professional eye like Daryl’s would spy the light pink paw print pattern on her lab coat. Thus, she was distinctly a veterinarian, to be sure.

A smile spread across your face as you laid back, snuggling close to his side. He smelled faintly like fish, but you were certain that you didn’t smell so great either.

“She’ll love it,” you whispered. There was no question who you could possibly be talking about. “I’ll keep it in my bag until we get home.”

Daryl couldn’t respond verbally. He could only chew his bottom lip as his arm snaked underneath your side and wrapped around to stroke your shoulder with his hand. Perhaps that was the ultimate reason he took the doll—as a way to further motivate both of you to live long enough to see your family again. And you would. He’d make sure of it. He knew it. He had to.

At length, you spoke again.

“It’s clear?”

He nodded. “Yeah. No walkers, no people… No nothin’.”

That was good. If Daryl felt it was safe enough for the both of you to sleep tonight, that was a victory in your book.

“Tomorrow,” you began, “we should start heading north, towards Paris.”

Daryl’s lip twitched into a slight smile as he began to close his eyes, still holding you. Sometimes, you hardly noticed he was holding you. A long time ago, it had become second nature, so habitual that him holding you in bed at night was a feeling you couldn’t quite sleep without.

“Paris?”

“Yeah… There could be people there. Biggest city, biggest population.”

“Yeah, biggest population of walkers.”

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know then. You got any bright ideas, Einstein?”

He raised his eyebrow as he looked at you, with only one eye open, the other squeezed shut as his nose scrunched up and he made a faux scowl. It was almost enough to make you laugh.

He chewed his bottom lip, deep in thought. “How about west?” he asked. “Least we can head that way first, see if we find anyone or anything. Best to stay as far away from the city as possible.”

“You're right,” you replied, resting your head upon his chest. Somehow, it was always much more comfortable than a pillow, despite its relative firmness. “You're always right.”

“Not always,” he said lowly, his fingers finding the ends of your hair and twirling around them as if by instinct.

“Yeah… Not always.”

“Pfft…”

“What?”

“Jus’... Can’t believe where we are right now.”

You nodded in agreement, but you could tell where this line of thinking was going—this negativity that sometimes clouded Daryl’s almost unwavering hope. That was where you came in, though your hope was in serious question, too.

“Well, you did promise you’d take me on a vacation.”

He scoffed again, but it was almost a laugh. Almost.

“France wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Me neither,” you said. A few beats of silence, then you added, “I would’ve preferred Italy.”

Three days had passed, all of which were spent hiking through ruins and desolate hills. Daryl used the long fishing spear from the boat as a kind of walking stick, and a weapon, along with whatever else he scavenged from Marseille. You’d found a few good knives, but nothing to quite balance out the slight limp you’d woken up with when you washed ashore.

No encounters with walkers, you’d noted, though you’d seen some wandering in the distance, ambling aimlessly through deserted stretches of wilderness. At certain points, you feared you might’ve been walking at the same pace as the rotting corpses, but they were far enough, and none of them seemed as fast as some of the climbers you’d seen.

Wilderness eventually faded into a somewhat industrialized town, much further away from the coast you’d started from.

It was small, but a good place to stop off for the night, you’d hoped.

Wandering through the small alleyways, littered with debris and overgrown vegetation, you came upon a large building, something like a warehouse turned into what appeared to be a supermarket. At least, that’s what you gathered from the signage, despite its unknown language.

Oh, how you wished you’d taken French instead of Spanish in high school now.

Daryl entered first, quietly opening the creaking door. The general protocol when entering new, unknown buildings had always been the same: be quiet (silent if possible). Although, if there were any walkers in there, odds are, they could smell you before you’d even say a word.

Still, you felt Daryl’s hand tap your shoulder lightly. He signaled to you, signing the phrase, “Me left, you right,” as he mouthed the words.

You always hated splitting up, but you signed back, “Be careful.”

Connie and Kelly would’ve been proud, you were sure.

The two of you split up, Daryl searching the leftmost side of the building, you the right.

As you examined the place, you took note of its state. It was abandoned, of course, but it was one of those places that had been left alone since the very beginning. It looked as though there had been a farmer’s market here, with long tables and booths with once meticulously laid out displays of crafts and homemade wares. Surely, whatever fresh produce had been here had long since deteriorated into nothingness, but there was always the chance of coming across dry foods. Grains and legumes and the like. Those were the ideals.

If fortune favored you, you could even find some dried herbs or medicinal plants to use on Daryl’s cut, but that was a longshot.

Still, you kept a lookout, your mind, and your stomach, much more focused on finding food than on scoping the place out for walkers. From across the way, you heard a small thud that made you flinch. Your eyes followed the sound—Daryl had set down his bag rather carelessly.

Eyes wide, you looked at him. He seemed entranced by a jar he was in the process of opening, only to smell its contents and put it back. Feeling your gaze on him, he looked up at you.

“You OK?” he signed, mouthing the words.

You sighed quietly, recovering from the startle. “Yeah.” With much more emphasis, exacerbated by the firmness with which you moved your hands, you once again signed, “BE CAREFUL.”

“OK,” he signed back, his face bordering on slightly annoyed with your protectiveness.

But another thud quickly drew your attention, though this one was not from Daryl, who also turned to locate the source of the ruckus.

You could only see a faint movement that was rather close to the ground, as though an animal was stirring, but as the familiar groans and wheezes started, you knew what it was.

Much to your surprise, Daryl seemed stunned for a moment, standing rather still as he simply watched the walker crawl out from underneath a pile of rubbish. As for you, you gripped the handle of your knife, removing it from its holder on your belt. But you were much further from him, and where there was one walker, there were, more often not, much more.

Suddenly, more walkers seemed to awaken from their slumber. Sleepers, you’d grown to call them. In your fascination with the habits of walkers, you’d begun taking note of how they seemed to have their own mode of hibernation during times of inactivity.

From what you could see, about eight or so of them had emerged from the far left, somewhere behind the produce stands, and were heading towards Daryl. You had the luckier draw, with only three or four setting their sights, and their gnashing, rotten teeth, on you.

No need for signing anymore. Dinner was officially served, and tonight, fresh American meat was on the menu.

“You got it?!” you called out to Daryl, raising your knife as the nearest walker limped towards you, its skull just barely clinging to the remainder of petrified flesh that hung loosely from its face.

He hesitated for a moment, worrying you. Daryl seemed off his game when it came to fighting walkers. Perhaps it was because he was still frazzled by the strangeness of your situation, or perhaps, God forbid, he was more worse for wear than he wanted you to know. After all, Daryl did have a tendency to downplay his injuries or his illnesses, a habit which frustrated you perhaps beyond any other quirk he had, because this was the most dangerous to his health.

But you couldn’t think of that now. Not when there were walkers snapping at you, and even more at your husband.

“Yeah!” he finally called back as he got a grip on his spear.

He set his focus on the first walker that had risen, which began slowly limping towards him. From behind him, though, was another walker, making quicker progress. He turned briefly, skewering the walker’s head with the sharpened point of the spear. He followed that with a kick to the walker’s abdomen, removing it quickly from the weapon.

On the other side of the place, you drove your knife into the nearest walker’s skull, but not without the usual splash of blood that came spurting out afterwards.

This spurt, though, was no ordinary one.

As you tugged the blade from its skull, you noticed a stinging sound, like that of a singe. It came as the blood spattered over the floor, and continued as it poured from the walker’s head. You stepped back, brows furrowed as you watched the trail of blood seem to evaporate, but it left behind a cloud of… smoke.

In a way, it reminded you of a branding, how the hot iron had been embedded into your skin and eaten away at the flesh with a horrendous burn until an X was forever scarred into your back. Whatever was going on with that walker, if its blood had gotten anywhere near your skin, you were sure it would have a similar effect—an agonizing, flesh dissolving burn.

But you hadn’t any more time to think about the strange walker, as there was another one coming behind you.

Meanwhile, had just skewered another walker through the face, then pulled the spear out to fling the walker backwards and tumbling back against another one.

Stepping backwards, just about to turn around and face another batch of walkers, one lunged forward, reaching its hand out to grip Daryl’s forearm, but this was not any ordinary death grip.

Most walkers’ touches were cold, lifeless, but this? This… searing, stinging, agonizing sharpness that made him scream.

With one last kill, you turned towards him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape with the fear of the most profound variety. Daryl never screamed like that. At least, not when you were around. Suddenly, every nightmare and intrusive thought of Daryl being bitten assaulted your mind all at once.

All you could see was him struggling against a walker, whose grip on his forearm must’ve been so strong that even Daryl couldn’t immediately pry himself away.

But the walker’s grip really wasn’t that strong. No, its hand was simply stuck, with Daryl’s burning, melting flesh acting as a kind of glue.

As he tugged and yelled in frustrated pain, you quickly bounded across the room, taking down another walker on the way.

The closer you got, the more you saw it—the small swirl of smoke emerging from Daryl’s flesh as the walker’s hand seared the flesh of his arm.

Just before you could get to it, Daryl managed to rip himself free, stepping back a moment to briefly scowl at the strange burn.

Immediately, you came forward, plunging your knife into the walker’s head.

Daryl’s eyes flashed to meet yours, a simple exchange of breathless nods between you enough to suffice until the rest of the walkers were taken care of.

You looked around swiftly, and Daryl did the same. Six more walkers. Between the two of you, it would be light work. That is, if there were no more SNAFUs.

Daryl took the high ground, situating himself on a large wooden table to better approach the threat.

You kept on the floor, using one hand to pull the walkers toward you, the other to strike with your knife.

Once again, Daryl found himself with the unlucky situation. Underneath the table he’d taken defense at was another walker.

Plunging the end of his spear through the wood, he successfully impaled the walker’s head, but not without his spear getting stuck.

He tugged on the spear with all his strength, but the thing wouldn’t budge—the spear was lodged too deep in the walker’s skull, causing it to bang on the underside of the table with each attempt to tug it back up. In perhaps a less serious setting, the image might’ve been quite comical.

Daryl’s grunts combined with the repeated banging sound alerted you to the situation, and to the other walker coming closest to him.

You quickly charged the walker, finally taking it out with a swift but jagged movement. Meanwhile, Daryl had just freed his spear, and now moved to kill two more walkers in his path.

He was fast this time, killing them within hardly a second between each other. It was just enough time for him to turn around and see the very last walker coming towards you.

Without another second to even hesitate, you raised your knife, only for another one to fly into the side of the walker’s head, sending it falling to the ground at your feet.

Sometimes, Daryl’s flying knives startled you more than the walkers.

With a huff, you reached down, pulling the knife from the walker’s head. Just as you’d seen from the other one—a splash of burning, corrosive blood, a hissing sound as it hit the floor, and a small plume of smoke.

What the hell are you? you asked the corpse in your head.

But that wasn’t important now. You quickly turned your attention to Daryl, who pulled up the sleeve of his poncho to reveal the raw flesh of his burn.

Within a moment’s time, you were at his side, holding his arm as your eyes frantically took in the wound. In your confusion, and your fear, you looked up at him, all the color drained from your face. From what you knew of burns, this looked to be second degree, oozing redness and blisters already starting to form.

“We’ll bandage it up,” you said, nodding to yourself, as if to reassure both him and you. “We’ll clean it first… Some water and—and if I find some aloe…”

He caught your gaze, holding it for a good several moments of heavy silence.

“You ever seen a walker do that?” he asked, knowing full well that the answer was no.

You turned to investigate the last walker you’d killed—on the surface, not unlike any other walker you’d seen before, except you supposed he had a certain… je ne sais quoi, if you will.

“Maybe… it’s a French thing,” you replied. “I have no idea.”

Daryl let out a deep huff as he sat, still wincing at the unsightly burn on his arm.

You sat beside him, reaching into your satchel to procure a crinkly plastic bottle of water.

“Don’t,” he said lowly. “You need to drink that.”

Ignoring him, you dabbed several drops of water onto the clean rag you’d taken from the boat in Marseille. With Daryl always getting hurt somehow, you knew it was a good find.

He hissed between his teeth as you lightly cleaned the wound as best you could, but it still seemed to ooze.

It worried you, to say the least.

And Daryl… he only worried about what might happen to you if this thing was even more sinister than it looked.

“What if it’s—”

“It’s not,” you replied quickly. If you knew what he was going to say, you weren’t even going to let him speak the possibility into existence. “It’s not like a bite.”

“But what if it is.”

After all, what you knew of walkers was that their bites were deadly. What if their… burns were too?

But you refused to believe that.

“It’s not,” you said back. “We’ll patch it up. It’ll be fine.”

From the look on his face, he appeared not to believe that, his eyes clouded with fear and uncertainty the likes of which you’d almost never seen in him. Daryl didn’t fear death, though. He feared the thought of you being alone, in a world where the two of you needed each other more than anything.

Again, here you were, trying to lift his spirits despite the possibility of death lingering all around you, in this French supermarket that reeked of death and rotten flesh. But you weren’t just reassuring him, you were reassuring yourself.

“Hey.” Your hands cupped his cheeks, forcing his gaze to face yours. Your eyes were soft, but firm enough to remind him that, just as he would never let anything happen to you, you would never let anything happen to him. Your voice barely above a whisper, you spoke to him with the gentleness he knew and loved so well. The gentleness he’d needed all his life, and would need until the day he died, and after that, too. “Sweetheart… We’re alive.”

That was enough. It would have to be enough. Enough to begin again.

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