#but ya :) good morning folks x

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

could u pls write a fic about a plus sized reader noticing Spencer doesnt look at her alot so one morning she wears lingerie and a see through robe and she teases him until he just takes her on the couch?

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: listen, it wasn't that you didn't love the domestic life with spencer, but god, you just really missed being touched (and penelope has a solution).

— warnings: uhh this is almost 3k of pwp firstly, penelope being the best wingwoman to ever exist, lingerie, teasing, unprotected sex, couch sex, vaginal sex, sub!spencer reid, dom!reader, kind of switch spencer and reader at the end, riding, heavy petting, subspace if you squint, mentions of oral sex (m and f rec), the reader is lowkey a freak (and penelope instigates it), clothed sex, the reader is dressed and spencer isn't, i held myself back from including a mommy kink, but that's the best you're getting from me, a lack of foreplay (be considerate folks), consent kink, praise kink.

— wc: 2817

⋆ a/n: HEY SO i really let this get away from me in the sense of this was meant to kind of be dom!spencer but i blinked and all of a 2k was written of sub!spencer so yikes!! but i really enjoyed writing this, it's been literally forever since i've written pwp so... here ya go!! i'm trying to be more organized with uploading because i really want to clear out my drafts before starting any new projects.

masterlist | AO3

“Pen, have you ever seen those TikToks where it’s like ‘he has a whole woman in his bed yet he’s playing World of Warcraft’ or some shit like that?” You ask the phone that’s tucked under your chin.

You’re in the middle of putting up laundry, but a feeling of unrest bubbled beneath your skin.

Penelope laughs, “And let me guess, that’s how you feel right now?” 

You sigh, looking down at the shirt that refuses to turn inside out. You throw it back in the hamper with a huff before grabbing a pair of – Spencer’s – jeans.

“I just – I’m not with Spencer for just sex, you know that, but it’s been like… forever since I’ve gotten any.” You can’t even listen to yourself talk.

“We’ve been in this like… domestic bliss stage, and while I love waking up to breakfast in bed and giggly showers, I’m horny and every time he does something so normal – something that shouldn’t even be considered sexy – I have to hold myself back from jumping his bones.” 

Penelope lets out a rather unattractive chortle, but she continues. “Listen sister, while I love the Boy Genius as much as the next person, he’s kinda dense. With all those brains, he’s rather hard-headed when it comes to romance.”

“I know, I know, and those are one of the reasons why I love him! The denseness is cute, but I’m starting to think I sabotaged myself.” You look down longingly at the MIT t-shirt. Spencer was away at the office right now, so that means whatever conversation you were having with the colorful woman on the other end was completely inappropriate.

“You know what I think?” She starts. “Oh God.” You sigh fondly. “Oh, hush! Don’t even act like my ideas aren’t good! Anyway… If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being quite the seductress myself, is that at the end of the day a man is a man, and they can be reduced down to their most primal instincts.”

“What are you saying?” You inquire curiously with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m saying that you gotta work with what ya mama gave ya! Men are dumb, they see a tit or a nice ass and they lose all cognitive function. So what I’m saying is to put on some lingerie and act like a little minx! Guys love it when you tease them and act like you don’t know what you’re doing! It’s about the chase, my fellow curvaceous protege.”

“So you’re saying to… seduce him?”  

“That’s exactly what I’m saying – Oh! Good morning sir! Yes, sorry, I’ll call you back when I’ve got the answer to what you need… yes okay bye-bye!” And with that, you’re left listening to the silence. 

You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation before taking a seat on the bed.

Seduce him, huh? The notion almost seems ridiculous, but it really isn’t that far fetched. You’ve had sex with Spencer before, you know how his brain works, what gets him needy and what parts of you turn him on. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

You don’t really own any lingerie, because for one, the material that’s supposedly the back of your underwear gets swallowed by your ass, and two, Spencer’s never complained about your granny panties. But hey, it doesn’t hurt to look right?

Okay, seduce Spencer Reid is a go.

Taking one last scrutinizing look in the bathroom mirror, you leave quietly, walking into the kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of coffee. Liquid courage as they say.

The light pink sheer robe hangs off of your ample form, the fuzz on the edge of your sleeves getting in your way and irritating you. God, if this doesn’t work, a woman by the name of Penelope Garcia is going to find herself six feet underground.

Spencer sat on the couch slipping his feet into a pair of mismatched socks – you’ve stopped trying to organize them a while ago – tucking them into his converse. He’s off today, probably having plans with the bookstore and the park before offering to make the both of you dinner. It’s endearing to say the least, but food is not something you're hungry for.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” You ask before taking a sip of your coffee. He hasn’t looked up, but you’re facing him now, your scantily clad body exposed by the thin satin of your white bra and underwear. A devil in disguise (you hope).

“Hmm, I was thinking about playing chess in the park for an hour or two before going to the bookstore. A new novel about quantum physics just came out, and even though it’ll probably be about stuff I already know, I’m always willing to look at it from a different perspec…” Spencer finally looked up, his sentence slurring a bit. “...tive.”

“Ah! That sounds exciting! I’ll text you what I want for dinner later if that’s okay? Or would you rather I go shopping with you?”

He blinks, his mouth hanging open intelligently, as though he’s still trying to process exactly what he’s seeing. “Yes. I mean no - I mean… I… what are you wearing?”

You spare a lazy look down, as though you had forgotten you even had the thing on.

“Oh this? It’s just really hot in the apartment today. So make sure you bring some sunscreen and a fan, yeah? Don’t want you getting a sunburn or having a heat stroke.”

“I - I’ve never seen that set before, is it new?” He stammers. You click your tongue as if you genuinely had to date the outfit back, when in reality the tags to the set itself sits pretty in the bathroom trash can. “I have no idea honestly, it looked comfortable though, so I just slipped it on. You don’t mind, right?”

“I… no. I don’t.”

You beam at him, “Perfect. Oh! Let me make you some coffee before you go, I know how hard it is for you to start your day without it.” 

You turn back around, and you could hear Spencer fruitlessly swallow a gasp. The back of your underwear might as well have been a piece of string, because your ass cheeks were basically eating the material. It was uncomfortable, but oh well, beauty is pain.

You smirk in victory, pulling out a medium sized thermos and pouring the rest of the liquid in it.

You didn’t hear him move, let alone walk behind you, but two large hands placed themselves respectively on your hips, the man tucking his face in the side of your neck. You shiver at the hot blow of air that escapes through his nose, and his grip on your skin turns a little tighter.

“What are you doing?” The question is mumbled, but you don’t miss it. “What does it look like? I’m making you coffee, silly.” He huffs. “No. I mean what are you doing to me?”

He presses forward, pushing his half hard cock between your cheeks. It was your turn to gasp, and you couldn’t help but put down the pot of coffee, pushing the now full thermos away to avoid any future hazards. 

You hold on to the edge of the counter, tilting your head further to the side to give the needy man more access. He takes the hint, peppering sweet, heated kisses on the sensitive skin of your throat. You shiver once more, sighing out a smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You know lying is useless, especially with the way your voice sounded so breathless. “You know you’re a terrible liar.” It was a playful dig, and his palms had begun to move, pushing on your full stomach to put more of your weight on him.

“Hm, but you don’t know every single thing I have in the closet, now do you?” You remark, yelping when he nipped at your earlobe. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong and you know it.” You do. “Do I?”

“This is terrible foreplay.” He jokes and you giggle. “I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job, don’t you think?” You push your hips back and add a bit of friction onto his cock. He groans and you feel your pussy pulse.

“You always do a good job.” Spencer murmurs.

You’re turned around so you can face him, and you wish you could take a picture to savor the look on his face. He’s beet red, cheeks and ears flushed a beautiful hue that leaves a twinge of pride pooling in your stomach.

He cups your face, drawing you in for a long awaited kiss. 

You sigh into him, hands twisting at the sleeves of his cardigan to pull him closer. He lets you in exchange of pushing you against the counter until your lower back is digging uncomfortably into the marble.

“Where do you wanna go?” He finally breathes. You stare at him as if you were in a daze before processing his question with a blink. “Couch?” You ask. “Whatever you want.” He says before joining your lips together once more.

He walks the both of you backwards slowly, and he takes advantage of when your mouth parts in a moan as he flicks his tongue against the top of your lip. He tastes like toothpaste and you might be a little crazy to think that it makes him way sexier than it should.

Your eyes flutter open and you push him away with hands on his chest gently.

“Do you trust me?” You gasp.

“Of course.”

“Good.” You say with a smirk.

You make sure he’s close enough to the edge of the couch when you push him on it, quickly clambering onto his lap and settling your hands on his shoulders; his fall naturally to your waist and you grin.

“Hi.” You whisper quietly. “Hey.” He responds back just as hushed. “You can grab my ass, you know.” You tease and his eyes widen just slightly. “I…” You guide his palms to hold the meat of your ass and he grips.

“God.” It tumbles from his lips in a whimper and you fucking melt. 

“Sorry I’ve been such a tease today, Spencie.” You say sweetly with a fake pout. “I just needed you so bad and you’ve been so, so sweet to me, my sweet boy. I didn’t want to ruin it by asking you to fuck me stupid.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined it.” He corrects with a whine. You had begun to grind down on him and he gripped you tightly, helping you rut against him. “No?” You question. He shakes his head quickly, his hair bouncing along with the swings.

“No. ‘Would’ve done anything you asked.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“So, if I asked you to let me suck your dick until I’ve sucked the soul out of you, would you have let me? How about if I asked you to eat my pussy for breakfast, huh? Would you have done it?”

“Yes, yes, God yes! I want to… I wanna do all those things so badly.” He groans, all but pawing at you now. 

“I bet you do,” You coo. “I guess I haven’t been the only one pent up. But that’s okay, because I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You smile, leaning in to give him a kiss before traveling downwards to his belt and wrangling it open. You popped open the buttons of his jeans, sliding back so you can tug them down his legs. 

“Up.” You command softly and he obliges. 

You’re faced with his hardened cock bulging from under his black underwear.

“Oh… is this for me?” You know you’re being mean when you drag your fingertips over the spot where precum has begun to pool, only putting slight pressure on it just to hear that sweet sound of his breath hitching.

“Yes – it’s all for you.” Spencer whines and throws his head back against the couch. “All for me? My goodness…” You trail off as you drag his underwear down his thighs. His cock springs up and bobbles against his clothed stomach.

“Can I –” He licks his lips, “Can I take my shirt off?”

“Of course, my love.” You were just about to ask him anyway.

As he rids himself of his top you get up for a split second to take his pants and underwear off fully. As you go to undress yourself, he stops you.

“W— wait… keep it on please.” 

“Oh? You wanna be nasty and pull my panties to the side, huh? Dirty dirty boy.” You tisk, but in reality you feel like you’re about to explode. “Is that okay?” You smile at his question. “More than okay.”

You climb back on top of him, doing exactly what you said and pulling the white satin to the side before gripping his dick, lining it up to your entrance. He holds you steady looking up at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes as you sink down.

The stretch stings because of the lack of foreplay, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as the pain shoots up your lower back and is already fraying at your pleasure filled nerves. 

“So… so good. God.” Spencer chokes. 

Your lips are rolled between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You heave out a breath when he sinks down to the hilt, and he just rubs soothing circles on your hips. The feeling helps to guide you as you loosen up, and when you do, you give him an experimental clench.

He groans of course and you smirk lazily.

“‘Gonna ride you now, ‘kay?” You murmur as you lift your hips up before slamming down. Spencer practically shouts when he re-enters you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” He’s a whimpering, cursing mess. “That feels good, baby?” You ask as you bounce. Spencer nods and fondness twists in your chest.

“You’re so tight. I think ‘m gonna pass out.” He says dramatically. You laugh, grabbing his hands and slipping them under your bra so they can cover your breasts. “Well, don’t pass out until we’ve cum, alright?”

He gives your breasts a reassuring squeeze. “Of course.” He huffs and you giggle again. The giggles die out though when you shift and his tip prods just right.

“Oh shit.” You curse but remain in the same place.

You ride him in abandon, the sound of skin meeting skin radiating out into the early morning air of the apartment. The sound is nasty and wet and it causes your head to swim. The buzz of mind numbing pleasure swims around in your gut, and you can almost grasp it.

“Spence I – I need more, can you…?” You moan out, your head tilting back. “Yeah, yeah, I got you, sweetheart.”

One hand leaves to rub furiously at your clit and your hips cant forward, sending you landing on his naked, sweat slicked chest. Your thighs burn and you rest for a moment, but Spencer doesn’t seem to match the same sentiment, because the other hand holds you by your hip in a grip that’s almost bruising. 

The fat is spilling through his fingers but he uses it as leverage as he now fucks up into you. You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck and tucking his face into yours. You mark him mindlessly, body trembling as you near your orgasm.

You can feel him twitch inside of you when he sets a pace, bringing you up and down in a way that indicates he’s nearing an end of his own.

“Together, okay?” You cry out, “‘Wanna cum together.”

“Okay, honey, okay.” 

He sets his feet on the floor and rubs harder at your sensitive bud, and the arousal that implodes inside of you is so blinding that you white out for a minute. Every one of your senses are overwhelmed, and you can hear him mewling into your ear before warmth paints your womb.

It’s silent in the apartment for a moment before you speak.

“I have to tell you a secret.” You whisper mindlessly, laying your cheek on a bony shoulder. “And what’s that?” He runs his fingers up and down your spine.

“This set is new.”

“I know honey, I saw the charge on my card.”

“What?!” You exclaim, pulling away from his body to search his hazy eyes with your wide ones.

“You forget I can see the bank statements.” Spencer says with a smile. “No, no. I – I didn’t mean to use your card.”

“You didn’t have to… I may have uh… may have slipped one into your wallet when you weren’t looking.” He admits sheepishly. You stare at a moment and then smile incredulously. “Did you… secretly sugar daddy me?”

“Oh God, please don’t call it that.” He says with a groan, leaning forward to bury his face in your chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever sugar daddy.” You tease, running your fingers through his sweaty locks.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[areyouwell]

Sciophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of shadows. An adult or child with Sciophobia may experience extreme stress and anxiety in everyday life due to the nature of light and shadow.

Ch.2

Ch.1 <---

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: the most DISGUSTING, tooth-achingly sweet fluff, like candyfloss-style shit. i vomited twice writing it and once again proofreading it. they make pasta together for TWO THOUSAND WORDS so if that ain't yer thing im sorry the good stuff will start soon. and by that i mean body horror. i threw up writing that for a completely different reason...

Word count: 11k (strap in and strap on folks)

A/N: as mentioned in the warnings, this is almost pure fluff. sure there's MC rage so strong my timbers were shivered but other than that it's mostly fluff. i want you guys to know, i am setting us all up for failure, because this WILL get sad. but it'll get hot first, then downright filthy, the a little disgusting before it gets sad, we got a while to go so booties ch.2 LFG

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit

“Maybe just try… concentrating harder?” 

It took all of your willpower not to cross the few steps it would take to punch Scott’s lights out. Why the Professor assigned him to help with your training, you’d never know. Sure, it wasn’t like you were constantly at each other’s throats like he and Logan seemed to be, but you never exactly saw eye to eye either. Scott was too… neat, for you. He liked rules too much, always following what his head told him he should do, rather than following his heart or gut. It was infuriating on missions, and you’d had plenty of arguments about the correct course of action before he became the de facto leader whether you liked it or not. 

That was shortly before you went away, so you didn’t really have much time to experience the dictatorship of Scott Summers, and now you were back, you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to. 

“Ya know what Scott? I’d never thought of doing that, thanks!” you bit sarcastically, sweat beading along your brow. You’d been at this for well over an hour now, hour two fast approaching with no progress. You’d successfully shadow-walked, though Cyclops noted your hesitation to do so. But could he blame you? The idea of shadow-walking and then suddenly not having the strength to pull yourself back together, or whatever it was you did, was quite frankly, terrifying. 

Scott sighed, placing a hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. “Alright, take ten, I’ll talk to the Professor.” He said, already making his way towards the iron doors. You let loose a frustrated breath, bracing your hands across the back of your neck. This was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. What’s worse, is that there was no proof you could actually do those things. No proof that was the Professor was saying was fucking true. 

You were glad the back wall was cast in shadow as you stormed across the floor, sending your fist careening into the metalwork, instantly regretting your outburst when the crack of your split knuckles rang out louder than the punch itself. Clamping your lips between your teeth to stop yourself from crying out, you let yourself breathe through the pain, savouring it just slightly. It was good. Pain was good. It reminded you how you weren’t just a pile of shadows wandering aimlessly through the air yet. You doubted you could feel a broken hand if you didn’t have a hand to feel with. 

Turning your back to the wall, you slid down to the floor, head buried between your knees with your arms casing you in, throbbing hand gripping your opposite shoulder tightly. You wouldn’t cry. You would. Not. Cry. That wasn’t you. You don’t cry. Since when did you cry?

This was how Logan found you. He’d been stuck in a meeting with Xavier and Storm all morning, going over the blueprints of the latest rescue mission the team would embark on. Though in all honesty, he was barely listening, his thoughts disobediently drifting back to you. The memory of your smile, the teasing lilt in your voice, the way your arms felt wrapped around his neck, the scent of your hair invading his heightened nose. He wondered how you were getting on with Scott, and he pitied the fact you were having to do this with Scott. That was until the man of the hour walked through the doors, disrupting the meeting and finally releasing him back into the world. 

It’s no wonder his feet led him straight to you, you’d been on his mind that much. So to see you like this, curled up against the opposite wall, your hand an angry red, it tugged at his heart. 

You didn’t seem to notice him as he crossed the room, only looking up when he kicked the gym mat with his foot. There was that smile again. The one that didn’t reach your eyes and only serve to fool people who were fucking idiots into thinking you were okay. 

The last person you expected to see walk through those doors was Logan. Last you’d heard, he was stuck in a meeting with Charles and Ororo. Scott was initially furious he’d been asked to help develop your mutation instead of intent ‘crucial strategy meetings’ so he called them, but he soon lightened up when you not-so-subtly reminded him it’s because Charles thought he was the best option to help you. 

You sighed heavily, bracing your good hand on your knee as you rose to your feet. For Logan to see you in such a sorry state wasn’t high on your list of priorities. You were pretty sure it wasn’t on that list at all. 

“Not goin’ well?” he asked softly, and you had to grit your teeth to stop yourself from tearing up. You watched his eyes flicker from your face to your hand, thick brows pinching in concern. You followed his line of sight, not that you needed to, you could fucking feel your knuckles pulsing fire up your arm. 

“Uh, no, not really. I’d love to say I did this punching Scott, but he left before I could, so I took it out on the wall instead.” You half smiled, and Logan found himself blowing out a huff of laughter. Even in this state, in this mindset, you could still find humour. 

Sinking your hand into the shadows across the wall behind you, you felt the familiar tingle of, what you now know was your body breaking apart, before the slight itch of pulling it back together as you dragged it back out, good as new. 

Logan thought for a moment, hazel eyes flicking from you to the shadows behind you. “Have you tried–”

“If you’re about to say ‘concentrating harder’ I might have to hurt you.” You interrupted, much to his amusement.

“I’m assumin’ that’s what Scott said?”

“Word for fucking word,” you said with a slight lopsided smile. Now that one reached your eyes. 

Logan took a few steps forward, now borderline pinning you against the wall. If it wasn’t for his hearing, he would have missed the way your breath hitched slightly, the slight shudder in your exhale. He chalked it down to your apprehension toward your situation. He had to. Giving himself hope like that just led to a shit load of hurt.

“What I was goin’ to say, was have ya tried from in there?” he raised a brow, his eyes looking past you and at the wall behind, and you had to take a minute to remember what you were talking about, his proximity all but throwing all and any thought out the window. It was achingly familiar to yesterday in the kitchen.

“You might be onto something…” you breathed when you remembered how to form words. Now you were thinking about it, he could be right. Why on earth were you trying to call the shadows to you, when you could drag them out with you? However, the idea of once again disappearing into shadow didn’t fill you with the same sense of freedom it once did. 

And Logan could see it. The hesitation, apprehension. You’d told him you were scared last night, but this was the first time he’d seen it. “I’ll be right here, yeah?” Fuck the way you looked at him shattered his heart. You wanted to be brave, you wanted to have the same sense of wonder you always did when it came to your mutation. He looked at the clench of your jaw, the flare of your nostrils as you nodded. 

“Alright… don’t go anywhere.” you half-joked, sliding your hands down the cool wall behind you, feeling your skin tingle at the mere idea of disappearing into the darkness. 

“Where would I go? You’re right here.” Logan responded, placing his index finger on the centre of your forehead and pushing ever so slightly. It gave you enough courage to fall back into the darkness, feeling the release of those threads holding your corporeal body together. 

Logan wasn’t really sure why he said that and he hoped to fuck you were too nervous about this whole thing to actually register what he’d said. He breathed out a sigh of relief when he watched you fold into the shadow, taking a few steps back and looking at his watch. Any longer than three minutes and he’ll start to think this was a really bad idea. Though, he probably should have told you that before you disappeared. 

Fuck.

It was always a strange sensation. Your consciousness was still intact, but the rest of your body had disappeared, scattered into a million different pieces. Probably billions. You couldn’t see, but you didn’t need to. You could sense. Sense the layout of the room. Sense where the shadows begin and where they end. Everything became nothing, and it was freedom. Quieting your thoughts, you concentrated. Concentrated on pulling. It was the same itching sensation you felt when leaving the shadows, except you tried to ground yourself.

Ground yourself in a place that had literally no ground.

This was fucking impossible.

You felt yourself slipping, the shadows around you not knowing what it was you were asking. Did the shadows have consciousness too? You didn’t know. Who fucking knew? And you didn’t fucking care. You tried to concentrate again, pulling against those threads you used to bring yourself from one place to the other toward you.

And only succeeding in moving again. Walking. This was no fucking different to what you’ve always done. Just moving from one point to the next. You’d already fucking mastered that. 

But at least one good thing had come from this. You weren’t afraid anymore. 

You were fucking angry.

Your consciousness writhed like a ball of angry vipers, pulling at all and any threads you could sense around you, flicking from one place to another with no rhyme or reason, no direction. 

If you could scream, you would have done. If you could lash out, you would have done. Rage rippled through your senses, those threads around you thrashing and flailing. Useless. Fucking useless. Maybe this was the fate you deserved. Disappearing into nothing, being nothing. Maybe you did deserve it. 

But you wouldn’t fucking accept it. Not yet.

This is “–fucking POINTLESS!” you roared, stepping from the shadow, your body itching all over, buzzing with adrenaline, your back almost burning. Your eyes took time to adjust to the light again, but you were too furious to register anything. “What’s the fucking point? Nothing works! I can’t pull them toward me, I can’t pull them with me, this is fucking stupid!” you continued your tirade, almost feeling the physical weight of your failure heavy upon your shoulders. “I can’t fucking do it, so why bother trying? It’s been a day and I’m already sick of this shit!” you heaved, breath searing your newly formed lungs, sending shockwaves of fire through your shoulder blades. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been this angry. “If this stupid fucking mutation doesn’t kill me I’ll do it myself I swear to fucking god and what the FUCK are you smiling at Logan?!” You bellowed, your eyes finally registering what they were seeing. 

Logan had probably the world’s most gorgeous smile, and you wished you weren’t too pissed off to appreciate it. But before he had time to answer, Scott and Charles entered the room, Scott dropped a mug of what looked like freshly brewed coffee straight onto the floor, the shattering of the ceramic lingering in the air as the room fell deadly silent. 

“What?” you asked, now slightly fearful as the three men peered at you, each with a different expression. Scott seemed utterly horrified, his jaw slack and agape. Charles looked almost smug, a knowing smile pulling at his lips. And Logan?

Logan just grinned at you, arms folded across his chest. “You did it,” he whispered, nodding to what you thought was the wall behind you. Your eyes lingered on his as you turned your head, finally looking at what everyone else in the room seemed to be seeing. 

Honestly, you were fucking shocked you didn’t notice. At least now the burning in your shoulder blades had an explanation. 

Two broad, rippling wings of pure shadow spread wide from your back, the darkness almost pulsing along with your rapid heartbeat. It felt good, and you noted the lack of pressure about your body. Those threads that seemed constantly under strain had loosened, seemingly constantly fed by the shadows at your back. 

You slowly pulled at the strings, watching the wings move and shift with your intentions. Your fury dissolved as you watched in complete awe, along with the three others in the room. They folded close to your back and you felt the buzzing of energy against your leg, before you extended them again to their full size, tips grazing either side of the room. 

“Wh… H-how?” Scott managed to stutter, taking a cautious step forward. You looked from your shadows to Cyclops. 

“It, uh, it was Logan’s idea. Pull them out with me rather than trying to pull them towards me…” you were still reeling, slowly extending your fingers before trying to move the rest of your body. You didn’t know how much concentration it was taking to keep them intact, and you were a little afraid of letting them slip. Your breath came heavy as if you’d run around the estate at least four times. 

Logan looked back at Scott, unable to help his ‘fuck you’ brow raise. And to his satisfaction, Scott clicked his tongue in irritation. He turned back to you when he heard your slight laugh, clearly having noticed the silent exchange between them.

“How did you even know about this?” Scott asked accusingly.

“She told me.” Logan retorted as if it was the most obvious response on the planet. Scott just stood there in shock.

“She… she told you? She told you. As in, the one over there?” Cyclops pointed at you and you flipped him off in return.

“Yeah? Who else would we be talkin’ ‘bout?”

“It’s just, she doesn’t tend to… do that,”

“She is right fucking here!” you held your arms up, gesturing to yourself in a way that thankfully returned the boys’ attention back to the situation at hand. 

“Yeah well, this is all well and good,” Scott continued, crouching now to pick up the larger pieces of the shattered mug, “but how do you release them?” he finished. 

He had a point. You couldn’t wander around the school with two giant wings stuck to your back, as much as you wanted to. How would you get through the doorways? Xavier wheeled forward until he was next to Logan, his face now much more serious.

“Carefully. Release it too quickly and the threads could go with them,”

“Wouldn’t that just mean she would be back in the shadow?” Logan asked, slight concern lacing his baritone voice. There was a catch here, and every single one of you knew it. 

“Ordinarily yes, however, she cannot disappear into her own shadow. If she releases those threads anywhere other than back to its original form, there’s a risk of her disappearing with it and getting stuck,” He explained, to nobody’s understanding. You knew you couldn’t disappear into your own shadow, you’d tried before and your body simply wouldn’t let you. 

“So wait… I can pull the shadow with me but have to return it to where it was, essentially?” you asked, slowly so that your question could be understood, even by yourself. Charles nodded, and you took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. 

Logan couldn’t help but feel partly to blame for this. He’d encouraged you to take this step, to try alternate methods of developing your mutation, and now he had, you were stuck like this until you felt sure you could release it carefully. Shit.

‘She made it this far because of you. We have a chance at changing her fate because of you, Logan. You cannot regret that.’ It was always jarring when the Professor found his way into his head, and it wasn’t the least bit soothing. What did ease him a little, however, was your slight reassuring smile, renewed with confidence. 

You could see he was battling with guilt, terrified that he may have endangered you. But you could do this. You’d already managed to achieve something you never thought you could today, what’s one more miracle?

“Hooookay, let’s try this… carefully, right?” it was a rhetorical question because honestly? You were a little scared, and stalling seemed to give you time to collect your thoughts and calm your slightly stuttering heart.

“Carefully,” Charles instructed, and you nodded once before taking another deep breath. Holding it for a few moments, you tightened the threads you hoped to fuck were holding you together, keeping them in place before blowing out the breath, releasing your connection to the wings behind your back. You felt them bleed down your shoulders, shivering slightly as the shadows snaked down your legs and back against the wall behind you, returning to their original state. 

You’d closed your eyes at some point, honestly, you couldn’t remember when. You were scared to open them, scared to see if you’d fucked anything up, if parts of your body were just completely shadow, or whether you had accidentally grown multiple limbs or something. You knew your mind was running away from you, but you couldn’t help it, as ridiculous as it felt.

Logan smiled slightly to himself as he watched the shadows wash away and return to the wall, and that inward smile broadened when he noticed you weren’t moving, eyes clenched shut, your hands balled into fists, your shoulders tensed and hunched. He stepped forward and up to you, gently bracing his hands on either side of your neck, thumbs angling your jaw up a little. Your soft gasp didn’t escape his ears.

“Y’alright?” He asked, eyes searching your face before finding your own gaze, your lids having fluttered open. You visibly relaxed, one hand that was previously balled into a tight fist now gently sliding up his wrist, resting atop his forearm. Your touch was electric, fingertips sending shivers down his spine. 

“Fine, I think,” you responded, gliding your nails through the hair on his arm. It was an absent response to his touch. You wanted to be closer to him, to bury your head in the crook of his neck and breathe in his pinewood scent. His breath was a mix of mint and tobacco, and you wondered if his lips had a permanent hint of whiskey if you were to taste them, having been told by a grumbling Jean that was who the hidden, half-empty bottle in the cupboard belonged to.

You instantly mourned the loss of his touch when he stepped back, though you were grateful he did. You’d been dangerously close to kissing him, and whilst you still wanted to, perhaps not without an audience of Charles and Scott.

“How are you feeling?” You blinked when the Professor addressed you directly, having forgotten what living in reality was like for a few moments. Nodding along with an answer you hadn’t voiced yet, you grinned along with a deep, contorting rumble of your stomach.

“Apparently, starving.” A chuckle escaped your lips and you braced a hand against your stomach in an attempt to soothe away the uncomfortable feeling of hunger. 

“I think that’s enough for today. Logan, could you take this one to the kitchen? Make sure she’s fed.” There was a knowing look in Professor Xavier’s eye that Logan wasn’t sure he liked. Sure, he may have just lovingly held your face whilst bringing you back from the brink of terror, but that didn’t mean there was anything going on between the two of you. You met yesterday!

“Sure.” he shrugged, trying his damnest to sound nonchalant about it. You stretched your arms up above your head, popping your elbows slightly as you followed Logan from the room, feeling a thousand times lighter than you did when you entered two hours ago. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you’d succeeded. 

The doors closed behind you with a soft swish, and you paused to appreciate the man walking ahead of you. You’d known each other for less than twenty-four hours, and yet you’d tear the fabric of the universe apart to ensure his safety. You knew almost nothing about him, and yet you felt the strangest pull towards him, a yearning to be around him, to be near him. It was infuriating, but so fucking exciting at the same time. Could this maybe be something? Did he feel this weird connection too? Or was it just your delusions working overtime? Honestly, hard to say.

“Take a picture, it’d last longer.”

You snapped from your daze to notice he’d turned back to you, realising you weren’t following him. Flashing him a broad smile, refusing to feel any kind of embarrassment that he’d caught you practically staring at him, you jogged a little to catch up, effortlessly falling into step beside him.

“Wanted to thank you,” you looked up at him through the corner of your eye, catching his own gaze. 

“What for?”

“Everything. Logan, I’ve known you for less than a full day and you’ve already helped me more than people I’ve known practically my whole life. The Professor excluded. So yeah, thanks.” You shrugged, hitting the button on the lift to take you both back up to the ground floor. The doors closed and you leaned against the back wall, crossing one ankle over the other. 

“You need better friends if you’re thankin’ me for anythin’. Wouldn’t anyone else do the same?” he asked, mirroring your stance against the adjacent wall, folding his arms across his chest. You snorted a laugh, and he found himself smiling at you.

“Yeah, friends would, but like I said, we haven’t even known each other a full twenty-four hours yet.”

Logan cocked a brow, his smile morphing back to a small smirk. “Well pardon me, princess, I thought we were friends.” 

You rolled your eyes, and Logan had a horrendous feeling he’d misread the entire situation between you. “I mean like, lifelong friends, asshole. People I’ve known ever since I can remember. Not people I met yesterday,” you finished, gently kicking his foot with your own. Logan straightened up as the lift slowed to reach the ground floor, softly flicking your forehead in response to your kick, causing you to bat his hand away.

“Yeah, well, what can I say? You made an impact,” he shrugged, and you grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, bub. I’m just sayin’ you show up after not existin’ and immediately cause trouble.” he watched your expression shift from mischievous to a sheepish pout, unable to beat the trouble-maker allegations. He sighed slightly. “But hey, maybe I like trouble.” The doors opened for the both of you to leave, Logan being the first to make his exit. Though, you stayed behind for a beat.

“Or maybe trouble just likes you,” you retorted with that same lopsided smile he’d come to admire so much, before pushing back against the wall to join him. 

“Yeah well, ‘m’not mad about it either way,” he mumbled, and you thought better about teasing him for it. You imagined this was about as close as he was gonna get to voicing genuine care for you, so you let it drop, simply humming a thoughtful smile in response. 

You don’t know why you were expecting the kitchen to have a few people in it, since classes were currently going on. Maybe it was due to the fact you hadn’t exactly settled back into the life of a teacher yet. Not that you were a teacher anymore, the man currently rifling through the snacks cupboard had seen to that. You found, with no small degree of surprise, that you missed it. You missed teaching combat and strategy, you missed taking the kids through training drills and exercise routines. You missed helping them hone their mutations, with Jean’s help, or Ororo’s help. Sure, the worry of them getting hurt always used to play on your mind, but now you were back, you realised that the worry was worth the fulfilment. 

Taking a seat at the table, you propped your chin up on the heel of your palm, watching as Logan crouched to one of the cupboards below the counter. You didn’t pretend like you weren’t enjoying the view. He really did look fantastic for one hundred and thirty. In peak physical condition.

“I’d say take a picture again but I’d really rather you didn’t,” you were too focused shamelessly staring at his ass you hadn’t noticed he was peering at you over his shoulder with a not-so-subtle smirk. You flashed one right back.

You were coming to like that phrase. “I wouldn’t be opposed,” you retorted, wiggling your brows up and down. Logan snorted a laugh. 

“You flirt with everyone like this?”

You shook your head, moving to rest your chin on top of your now interlaced fingers. “Nah, only with the ones over ninety. I have a thing for older men,” you winked and he rolled his eyes.

“Stop,” but judging from his expression, Logan was finding this just as amusing as you were. But as much as you wanted to continue, your curiosity got the better of you.

“What’re you looking for?” you asked, standing from your seat at the table and skirting around the wood to sit on the edge closer to him, peering down over his shoulder. 

“There used to be a packet of insta-noodles in here somewhere but I think one of the kids got to it first,” he explained, and you gasped dramatically, to the point where he actually looked a little concerned over his shoulder. “What?”

“Insta-noodles? My brother in Christ, please tell me you were not about to give me instant fucking noodles?” you felt something in you die at the thought, and something else died at his affirming nod.

“Yeah, what's wrong with that?” he asked, genuinely perplexed by your reaction. It was just noodles for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t like he’d just offered to kick a baby. He blinked at your barked laugh of disbelief, watching as you hopped off the table and shooed him aside.

“Step back fossil–”

“Hey!”

“and let me do this. We’re going to actually have food. Like, real food. Take a seat or watch and learn.” You shot him a look over your shoulder, before gathering whatever ingredients you needed. Logan dragged one of the chairs back from the table, taking a seat to watch whatever it was you were about to make. 

You started by dicing an onion, a pan with oil already heating up on the gas stove, and it took all of three minutes for Logan to be impressed by your knife skills. You almost wielded the thing like a dagger, flipping it this way and that, before scooping half the pile of onion and dropping it into a plastic bowl. The other half you scraped into the pan, and Logan couldn’t help but savour the sound of the sizzle and the smell of food. Suddenly, he too was starving.

You crossed to the fridge, rummaging around the bottom shelf before pulling out a tub of minced beef, and a packet of mushrooms. Closing the door with your hip, you lay the ingredients out on the counter, pulling open the cupboard above your head to retrieve a box of breadcrumbs and a carton of eggs. Though he saw you pause briefly, turning your head back to him.

“You’re not vegetarian or vegan, right? Probably should have asked yesterday,” your question made him laugh, and you tilted your head to the side. “What?”

“Do I look vegan to you?”

You stuck your tongue in your cheek to stop yourself from smiling. No, no he didn’t. But at the same time, you’d made a similar mistake in the past. And it still haunts you to this day.

“Just answer the question, Lo’” you grit, placing a hand on your hip. Logan blinked, trying his best to get past the nickname you’d just given him. Usually, nicknames were his thing, having about a million different ones for a million different circumstances. He barely managed to shake his head, earning himself a smile of gratitude from you, before you turned back to your task at hand and he could settle himself with his brow pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

You crouched again, rifling through the cupboard with cans. Pushing a stack of soup to the side, you froze solid, your eyes blowing wide as your hand shook at what you saw. Another mug, though someone had gone to great lengths to hide this one. Your fingertips grazed the faded image, a photograph of a younger-looking you and a girl with fair features, her braids tied back at the top of her head. Her smile was brilliant. Dazzling. It took you a moment to will your blurring vision away, before inhaling deeply and bringing out the chopped tomatoes you’d been looking for, setting it to the side. Taking a moment to push her from your mind whilst stirring the slowly browning onions, you then cross to fill the kettle, flicking the switch to start boiling. Logan blew out a breath, having recovered from his heart stuttering and finally went back to watching you cook. 

It was calming, almost hypnotic, the way you moved about the kitchen. Folding the onions in with the beef mince, breadcrumbs and two eggs. Only, it just occurred to him he had no fucking clue what you were making. Standing from his seat, he moved over to lean his shoulder against the fridge door, now having a clear line of sight to watch what you were doing.

“What’re you making?” he asked, smiling slightly as you startled. He didn’t mean to scare you, he just honestly didn’t realise how deep into the process you were. 

“Meatball Marinara,” you answered, your fingers incorporating the ingredients in the bowl until you were left with a sticky, meaty lump you could form balls out of. 

“From scratch?” he asked, eyes slightly wide. You’d spoken at length about your cooking last night, and how you’d learned, and it wasn’t that he didn’t believe you, it was more that he didn’t quite realise how impressive it was until he was here, watching you. 

He swore, your smile could start and end wars.

“It’s pretty quick and easy, to be honest,” you explained, eyes never leaving your task despite feeling his own trained on you. You grabbed the salt from the spice rack, twisting the grinder a few times until you felt it was right. That was what a lot of cooking was for you. Just feeling. When you felt something was done, you’d take it from the oven. When you felt something needed a little more seasoning, you’d sprinkle some paprika in for an extra kick. Nothing was ever done by the book. 

It’s mainly why you didn’t exactly get on with Scott.

“Huh…” Logan responded, watching how you’d started to take small portions of the beef and roll it into little balls, placing them onto a separate plate. 

“Could you give the onions a quick stir? ‘ve got meat hands,” you wiggled your slightly shining fingers in his face, and he jerked back, much to your amusement. Logan fought the urge to flick your forehead again, settling on ignoring your evil little laugh and instead focussing on his critical mission of stirring onions. 

“D’ya cook like this when you were away?” he asked, finding an insane amount of domestic comfort in cooking with you. He saw you shake your head out of his peripheral vision. 

“Nah, didn’t have time, plus I was moving around a lot. Usually, it was quicker and easier things than this,”

“Like insta-noodles?”

You could fucking hear his smirk, and you managed to stop yourself from cracking an egg over his head. “No. Never insta-noodles. Ever.”

You’d finished making little meatballs and had started splitting apart a bulb of garlic, crushing the cloves beneath your knife before peeling off the skin and dicing them before dropping them into the pan he was still stirring. His eyes closed involuntarily as you leaned across him, once again your scent hitting him like a freight train, only this time your shampoo had blended with the sweet, slightly musky smell of your sweat. It was enough to drive him fucking feral. 

“Keep stirring that, or it’ll stick to the bottom and burn,” you instructed absently, halfway through chopping up a few mushrooms before leaning across him again to drop them into the pan as well. Logan held the spoon like it was his lifeline, knuckles draining white as you moved around him to retrieve another pan.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded, and you snorted another laugh. He really had to pull himself together. 

You poured the boiled water from the kettle into the new pan, lighting the burner and setting it on a high heat, bringing the water roiling before grinding salt for what Logan felt was far too long. He wondered vaguely if you had high sodium levels, or how your blood pressure was. You waited again for the water to come back to a boil, before placing a sizeable amount of spaghetti into the pan, putting slight pressure on the tips so the ends would soften and bend faster in the water. 

Placing the lid over the pan, you went to check your watch. Your watch that you weren’t wearing. Fucking goddamnit. You looked around for a clock, before noticing Logan’s wrist. 

Logan’s soul nearly left his body at the way you grabbed his hand, twisting his wrist to make a note of the time. You weren’t exactly rough, but it was assertive enough for him to think twice about the kinds of things he was into…

Wait, what the fuck was he talking about?

“You could’ve just asked the time,” he muttered, tugging his wrist back almost possesively. 

“Hm?” you blinked. In truth, you’d been utterly lost in how good this felt. How right it felt to just do average, mundane tasks with him. “Oh, right, yeah, sorry. Could you tell me when ten minutes have passed?” you asked, almost instantly busying yourself again by carefully dropping the meatballs into the pan he was stirring. “Gotta brown off the meat first…” you instructed softly, almost absently. But he listened, slowing his movements. Your resulting smile was radiant. “Hey, you’re a natural!”

Logan raised a brow. “I’m stirring a pan, bub. Not exactly gourmet style.” You laughed, gently hitting his bicep with the back of your hand, only to stop in your tracks, shaking your knuckles out. 

“Ow! I thought you said your bones were made of adamantium,” you exclaimed, rubbing over the back of your hand with your other palm. In truth, it didn’t really hurt, but you just wanted to make a point because nobody has the right to be this built. It was insane.

Logan bit his tongue to stop from smiling, his eyes sliding from that pan to you. “Just the result of a good workout regime,” he shrugged as if it were nothing special. In reality, he knew he looked good. He put a lot of work into his physique, and whilst his mutation did help with that, it was still nice to be complimented on it once in a while. 

“Huh… you don’t say,” you responded, cracking open the can of tomatoes once the meatballs had browned to your satisfaction. The metal sizzled slightly as you poured in the sauce, setting the can to the side and retrieving a few basil leaves from the window box on the opposite side of the room. Logan hadn’t noticed it before, remarkably, and though having no experience with plants in recent history, something told him he wouldn’t have too much trouble identifying what they were.

It was a weird feeling. Remembering something he didn’t actually remember. Though it had been the story of his life for the last few years. 

You dropped the leaves into the sauce, leaving him to stir the pot whilst you brought out two sets of plates and cutlery and set them on the counter, angling your head so you could catch sight of the time from the watch on his wrist. He would have just told you if he didn’t think you were deriving some kind of joy from attempting to read his watch sideways.

Removing the lid from the pan, you scooped up a single piece of spaghetti, blowing away the steam before dropping it into your hand when you thought it was cool enough. You shot him a quick look Logan could only describe as pure mischief, before throwing the spaghetti against the backsplash of the stove. He watched as the pasta hit the wall with a sick squelch, before sliding down the tiles. 

He looked back at you, and you almost instantly burst into fits of laughter. “The fuck was that for?” he asked, his brows furrowed in perplexion. 

You managed to recover from laughing, though hiccuped through a few giggles. “You can tell whether spaghetti’s done by throwing it at the wall. If it sticks, it’s raw, if it slides, it’s done,” you exclaimed, tilting your head to get another look at the time, noting that those ten minutes were up.

“Really?” 

“Nah, that’s an old wive’s tale. Honestly, it’s just kinda fun to pelt spaghetti at a wall and call it ‘cooking’.” You sent him a wink, and Logan shook his head in fond disbelief. He felt like he’d seen so many sides to you in the last twenty-four hours alone. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to see more. He wanted to see how many sides to you there were, and whether he would like them all as much as he liked the ones he’s already seen. Your fury included.

“Your ten minutes it up, by the way,” he reminded you, and though he had a feeling you already knew, you nodded in thanks anyway, removing the boiling pan from the stove and flicking off the burner, the blue gas flames retreated to nothing. Skirting around him to the sink, you tipped out the water, using the lid of the pan to stop the rest of the spaghetti from falling with it. You shook the pan slightly, shaking out any pieces that had stuck together, before setting about separating the contents into two portions, one slightly bigger than the other. 

“How’s it looking?” you asked, leaning back to take a look at the sauce. If Logan had to grit his teeth after smelling your scent one more time his jaw would fucking snap. You really weren’t making this easy on him, were you? Part of him wondered if you were doing it deliberately, but there was no way of you knowing about his heightened senses. Unless you’d asked around, which, with everything you’ve had going on since you got back, he sincerely doubted. 

“Looks good to me, but I’m not the expert here,” he handed you the spoon, stepping to the side for you to take over. Your fingers brushed his as you took it, and he tried his fucking best to ignore the slight buzz you’d left. 

Lifting the spoon to your lips, you sampled what you’d been slaving over for the last twenty minutes, smiling slightly as the sweet, tarty flavours burst on your tongue. It was a new sensation for Logan to wish he was a spoon, but here he was. 

“Perfect!” you beamed, dipping the spoon back in the sauce and turning to him, your palm cupped beneath the wood to prevent anything from spilling onto the floor. “Wanna try it?”

Logan shrugged, stepping forward and allowing you to bring the spoon to his lips. Your eyes never left his, the tips of your fingers grazing the coarse stubble beneath his chin, but you didn’t move away. He struggled to focus on anything other than how close you were to him, the feeling of your fingers on his jaw, your breath fanning the lower half of his face. Your hopeful eyes waiting eagerly for his verdict, searching his expression for any kind of clue. And he was suddenly afraid of what you’d find there. 

Stepping back, he pretended like he was savouring what you’d fed him, and whilst it was fucking delicious, it didn’t compare to how he imagined your lips tasting. Or anything else, for that matter. 

“‘S’really good,” he managed, and you immediately looked as if you weren’t waiting with bated breath for his approval.

“Isn’t it? Fuck I’m good,” your laugh was more akin to an evil mastermind than someone who’d just made meatballs, but Logan would be hard-pressed to find another time in his life when he felt this at peace with the world. At least, not in the life he could remember. “Sit, I’ll bring it over,” you instructed, removing a larger, metal spoon from the drawer, which he took off you the moment he could.

“Pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way ‘round, bub. You cooked,” he glanced pointedly to the seat you’d just gestured to. But clearly, you were, amongst many other things, incredibly stubborn. 

“Not sure how you worked that one out, you cooked too,” you folded your arms across your chest, setting your jaw. 

“Yeah, barely. Sit your ass down,” he pointed to the chair with the spoon in his hand, but you still refused, now leaning against the counter as if you could get any further away from the table. Logan sighed heavily, placing the spoon down again. “Didn’t wanna have to do this…” he muttered, and you didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant by this before his arms were around your waist and you were lifted effortlessly off the ground. 

All breath fled from your lungs. Your hands instantly fell to his shoulders, nails clinging on for dear life as he carried you to that godforsaken chair. His grip around your body tightened as you attempted to wriggle free from his arms, laughing breathlessly, exhilaration coursing through your body. Only, the moment he tried to set you down, you did a complete 180 and wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs around his waist.

“Let go,” his words were muffled against your neck as he bent almost double, and you leaned back until you were practically hovering above the chair.

“Seemed like a good idea a minute ago, huh?” You arched a cocky brow and were met with an expression mirroring your own. 

“So you gonna cling to me forever? That your genius plan?”

“If that's what it takes,” 

“Let go,” the way he said your name almost had you falling to the floor, your muscles suddenly growing weak. But you stayed strong, out of nothing but principal at this point. He wasn’t even holding you anymore, you were clinging on through sheer willpower alone. For the sake of being stubborn.

“You made this bed, now lie in it,” you responded haughtily, refusing to look into his irritated façade.

“That doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” he growled, and you fucking melted. That wasn’t fucking fair, and judging by the steadily growing smirk, he knew it. His hands gripped both your calves, successfully peeling you from his waist whilst you were distracted. You had no choice but to let your legs fall to the floor, catching yourself on the chair behind you, much to his triumphant grin. 

“You cheated!” you gaped, sitting cross-legged on the seat. Logan barely looked over his shoulder as he started spooning the sauce onto the two piles of pasta. All that over fucking spaghetti. And you didn’t even regret it a little.

“How’d I cheat?” he asked, though you were aware he knew full well how. And you were right. He did know. Of course he knew. He’d used that specific voice countless times before. Usually under very different circumstances. He just wanted to hear you say it. Hear you say how it affected you. 

But, true to form, you were stubborn.

“You’re stronger than I am,” you sighed, glaring heated daggers into the back of his head. You wanted to be petty, to stand up and take the spoon from him again, but in all honesty, you don’t think you’d survive another round of ‘sit on the fucking chair’.

Logan looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes swirling with knowing, and you stuck your tongue in your cheek and looked away, not giving him any satisfaction of confirming what he was thinking. You’d been so caught up in avoiding eye contact, that you almost jumped when he set the plate down in front of you, setting his own at the opposite place. At least he’d had the sense to realise the large portion was for him. Credit where credit was due, you guessed.

A comfortable silence blanketed the kitchen as he took a seat, two glasses of water in his hands, and you smiled a thank you. If you had your brother to thank for anything, it was teaching you how to cook. Well, it was many more things than that, but at this moment, it was cooking lessons. He didn’t want you going into the world with the culinary skills of a carrot. His words, not yours. 

You had a feeling Logan was a hard man to impress, so listening to his small grunt of appreciation was music to your ears. “Told ya I was a good chef,” you beamed after swallowing a mouthful and taking a large sip of water. 

Logan nodded in agreement. It wasn’t like he could disagree, the proof was right there, in front of him, in his fucking mouth for fuck’s sake. And the peace pesto from last night. Though he was glad his metabolism was fast. Pasta two days in a row can’t be good for anyone. “Never said you weren’t,” your expression fell from pride to scowling in seconds, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “You’re a fantastic chef.”

Your eyes narrowed as you searched for any hint of dishonesty, but you came up short. Though he said it as if to placate you, something told you he really meant it. You were just playing around, in all honesty, teasing in order to forget what just happened between you, and you’d gotten so much more than you bargained for. 

Much like the other night, you both fell into comfortable, mundane conversation, finding refuge in how fucking normal everything felt right now. You laughed and smiled as if the threat of disappearing into nothing didn’t constantly hang above your head, and he teased and joked as if the weight of his forgotten life didn’t constantly burden his shoulders. You could get used to this. Dangerously used to this. 

Logan was completely enamoured by you, once again finding himself encapsulated by the way you talk, from moments where you get really into whatever story you’re telling, to quieter moments when you let the conversation settle. If he was to die tomorrow, unlikely but worth entertaining from time to time, it was moments like these he was sure would flash through his mind. 

“What about you? I’ve talked your ear off about my life but you never talk about yours. Though, I guess there’s a lot to talk about,” you mused thoughtfully, twisting your fork through your spaghetti, or whatever was left of it. Logan grunted, shifting in his seat to lean against the back of the chair.

“It’s not a happy story,” he admitted quietly, buying himself some time by taking a long glass of water. Your gentle eyes found his, a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“I’m not looking for a fairytale. Just who you are,” you fought the urge to reach across the table and slip your hand into his. Though you didn’t want to push him to divulge anything, you just didn’t wanna feel like the whole conversation was one-sided. Sure, he would chime in with a few anecdotes but mainly it was just asking you questions. 

If he was being honest with himself, Logan wasn’t sure he wanted to tell you anything about his past. He knew you wouldn’t judge, clearly having seen a fair amount of bullshit yourself, and the fact that it simply wasn’t who you were. No, his problem lay with the fact that he didn’t want to dampen your spirit with his sob story of a past. How he only remembers through thrashing nightmares, waking up soaked in sweat, heart racing. You didn’t need to know any of that. 

“Alright… I–” he began before quite literally being saved by the bell. Logan looked at his watch, brows raising at how easily time had once again run away with the two of you. You blinked, looking around as if you could find the bell and ask it personally why it was going off so early before the echoing of ongoing conversation shattered the domestic delusion you’d both managed to trick yourselves into feeling.

“Another time,” you stood from the table, leaning over to grab his plate, but he swatted your hand away and instead took your own. 

“Never learn, do ya?” he asked with a slight smile, and you rolled your eyes. With a heavy, defeated sigh, you conceded, simply allowing him to take your plate to the sink. Stretching your arms high above your head, you popped your stiff shoulders, turning your head as two students you knew well entered the kitchen.

“You made meatballs?! No fair, I wanted some!” Jubilee whined, her books still clasped against her chest. Artie stuck out his forked tongue, much like a snake would taste the air around it before his curious face morphed into a frown. It seemed he too wouldn’t have minded meatballs. 

Logan looked over his shoulder at the two newcomers, his eyes darting between you and them, your guilt written all over your face.

“I’ll make them for you again sometime soon. We could have one of those big dinners we used to do, remember those?” you asked, your eyes alight with hope. Logan had heard of those. Apparently, you used to cook for the whole mansion, and the students would drag tables and chairs from all different rooms and have a huge feast together. Of course, he didn’t believe a word anybody said about it, since he was convinced you were a figment of everyone’s collective imagination, but now he knew you very much did exist, he could envision you dancing around the kitchen for hours on end, preparing dish after dish.

Jubilee’s face lit up at the suggestion, her hand hitting Artie’s arm excitedly. “Seriously? You mean that? We’ve missed doing that so much. Nobody cooks the way you do!” She bounced on her toes, before whirling and darting from the room, most likely to tell the rest of her friends. Artie lingered for a few seconds, clearly not knowing whether he wanted to stay or to race after Jubilee, before he too turned on his heel and ran after her. You chuckled softly, running a hand through your hair.

“What’ve I gotten myself into…?” you muttered, startling slightly as a hand rested on your shoulder. You looked up at Logan, unable to accurately decipher his expression. All you knew was that it was soft. Softer than you’d seen in the last day or so. 

“Were y’always this good with em? The kids?” he asked, and you huffed a laugh. You wished you could say yes, absolutely, you’d always been naturally gifted at looking after children. But that wasn’t the truth. 

“Fuck no. Used to hate kids, to be honest with you. Thought they were annoying as fuck when I first started,” you admitted slightly sheepishly. “But, they grew on me. Still not a fan of like, other kids, but any who come to this school? Love ‘em.” 

“Makes me wonder why they sent you ‘round America and not someone more suited.” his eyes glinted with mischief and you lightly elbowed his ribs.

“I can be incredibly persuasive.” 

“That so?”

“Mmmhm,” you nodded emphatically, stepping out of his range and immediately missing the warmth of his palm on your shoulder. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left it there until you moved away and hopped onto the table, your feet dangling slightly. He didn’t take his eyes off you, scanning your face as though he was considering you. You cocked a brow. “What?”

“Teach with me.”

You blinked. Well, you weren’t expecting that. “Come again?”

“Teach with me,” he repeated as confidently as he’d said it the first time. You scoffed a laugh. 

“What? Why?”

Logan shrugged. “You’re better with the kids than I am, and it would give you a good opportunity to develop your mutation in a combat setting.” And I get to spend more time with you.

You hesitated. “I– I don’t know, Logan. It’s… I don’t think it’s a good idea,” While you wanted nothing more than yet another excuse to be around him, you didn’t know if getting back into teaching was the right thing for you at the moment. Yeah, you missed it. Fuck, you missed it more than you thought you would, but you really meant it when you said you weren’t cut out for it. If only you weren’t the only person who thought so. 

“One class.” he bargained. “Help me with one class tomorrow and decide from there.”

You pursed your lips, and Logan could almost hear your internal debate. “You’re not gonna let it go til I do it, are you?”

“Probably not,” he smirked, knowing he’d just got you to agree. Your resulting sigh confirmed it. 

“Fine. One class. No more than that.” In all honesty, you would have agreed just to see his resulting smile. 

“We’ll see about that bub, class starts at one tomorrow.” 

You nodded once, nerves suddenly bubbling in your gut. You were going to teach again, after being out the game for the last two years. Fucking hell you wanted to throw up. But you took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. Maybe this was a good thing. A blessing in disguise. Sure, it had been a while, but maybe Logan was right. Maybe your mutation would only develop under times of stress. You were incredibly stressed today, and look what happened. 

“Alright, I’ll talk to Charles and Scott, see what they say,”

Logan huffed, clearly irate with the idea. “Don’t give a shit what Scott says. He couldn’t help you after almost two hours. I was there for two minutes and you made progress,” he huffed, and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Was he… was he jealous? No, that wasn’t possible. What would he have to be jealous about?

“Alright tough guy, rein it in. The way you helped out earlier, it wouldn’t surprise me if Charles is telling him you should be taking over my training,” you hadn’t even thought about it before you said it, but now it was out your mouth, you realised it was entirely plausible. Especially since anyone with eyes or ears could see how much better you got on with Logan than you did Scott. Logan suggested one approach and it worked like a charm.

“Ya think so?” Fuck was the hope in his voice as obvious to you as it was to him? The idea of helping you with your mutation, whilst slightly terrifying, excited him. He couldn’t help but think that would be a learning experience for both of you.

“Yeah, why not? Like you said, Scott couldn’t help after two hours,” you shrugged, hopping off the table. “Anyway, I’m in dire need of a shower and comfier clothing, so I’ll see you in a bit.” Logan almost cried at the thought of you no longer smelling like you do now, and he had half the mind to tell you to forget the shower, you smelt that fucking good. But he also didn’t want the reputation of the weird-smell guy, so instead of trapping you in his arms and begging you not to, he simply nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, see you later.” He grumbled, trying not to be obviously annoyed by the fact the time you’d spent together was coming to an end. You shot him a confused look, before disappearing out the door and up the stairs to your room. Logan stayed for a few more minutes, his eyes closed as he finally let himself get lost in your scent. He wanted you. Fuck he’d only known you for a day and he wanted you. How the hell was he supposed to just behave normally now you were back living here? It simply wasn’t possible. 

He groaned, running a hand down the side of his face. On the one hand, he really wanted to spend more time with you. He was actively looking forward to spending time with you. But on the other, he didn’t know how much longer he could behave himself. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up this ‘friendly’ banter with you without it crossing the line. Had it already crossed the line?

Jesus Christ, he didn’t even know. He couldn’t help thinking this was likely about to get extremely messy if he didn’t get his shit together. But, at the same time…

He always liked a little mess.

Freshly showered, moisturised and pampered, you lay face up on your bed, your room feeling more like a forest than anything else. The steam from your shower still rolling out from your bathroom, and the more tropical plants you kept seemed to be absolutely thriving. You were thrilled, you really were, but you couldn’t take your mind off the day you’d just had. Not that it was over, it was only five in the afternoon, but so much had happened in the last day it was hard to wrap your head around.

You’d been replaced as a professor, your bedroom stolen, and you’d been informed that the mutation you thought you knew so well wasn’t actually what you thought it was at all, and that it could very well end you in seconds. You’d thrown a fit, broken your hand, dragged shadows toward you and constructed them into a pair of fucking awesome wings, and cooked with a man you’d known all of two minutes.

And the strangest fucking part was that you couldn’t get him off your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was honestly getting a little irritating, seeing his face every time you close your eyes, hearing his laugh when your room got a little too silent. Feeling the ghostly touches of his arms around your waist, his hands on your neck. His breath against your ear. 

You flapped your arms down on your bed in defiance. You would not lie in bed thinking about him all evening. You refused. And luckily, due to an unexpected visit, you didn’t have to.

“He likes you, ya know,”

You screamed, whipping your head back to your door where you saw Kitty strolling in, completely unphased by your reaction. Grabbing one of your pillows, you threw it at her approaching form, watching as it soared straight through her body. Your jaw flapped, completely speechless. “I– Wh– Kitty! You can’t just waltz in here unannounced! Scared me shitless!” you exclaimed, running a stressed hand through your hair.

“Why? I always used to. Been gone that long, huh?” she asked, plopping down on the end of your bed and crossing her legs. 

“Yeah… guess I have,” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your accommodation to be broken into. The moment rumour got out there was a mutant staying a few streets over the road, you had to move. Sometimes you hadn’t been quick enough and had spent the rest of the evening frantically scrubbing blood from beneath your fingernails, before making a quick exit.

Those were the times on your travels nobody needed to know about. Those were the times you’d keep to yourself. 

You jumped again as your door burst open, a frantic Logan looking you up and down before his eyes darted around the room. “You alright? I heard screaming,” he panted, slightly breathless from clearly having sprinted up the stairs. 

Your heart grew five sizes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Kitty scared the shit out of me, ‘s’all,” you shrugged, too focused on him to notice the woman of the hour beaming wildly, looking between the two of you. 

His shoulders sagged, the man visibly relaxing, his eyes lingering on yours. “Okay…”

“Okay…” you repeated, unable to tame your disobedient smile as he almost awkwardly nodded his head. 

“Right. I’ll uh, yeah. Leave ya to it,” he clicked his tongue, sending you one last glance to make sure you were really okay, before closing the door. 

You sighed, shaking your head fondly, chuckling quietly to yourself. 

“Oh. My. God. You like him too!”

Looking up with unnatural speed, you scoffed, waving your hand dismissively. “The fuck are you talking about?” you asked a little too defensively.

“I’m talking about you and Logan. He clearly likes you, and now I can see that you like him too! Oh, this is so fucking cute, just wait until I tell Marie, she’ll go fucking crazy!” Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you had to catch one of her wrists in order to stop her. 

“What are you on about? Logan doesn’t like me, we’re just friends,” oh, was it supposed to hurt that much to say it? But, in all honesty, you don’t think you were ready to confront whatever it was you felt for this man. For now, you were pretty content to bask in not knowing, and being kind of excited about it.

“Mhm? Friends don’t eye fuck in the kitchen.”

You choked. Her tone was so matter-of-fact that if you weren’t actually looking at her, you wouldn’t have believed you were talking to Shadowcat herself, Kitty Pryde. “Kitty! Christ, what happened to you? And we weren’t eye fucking. I was hungry and refused to cook insta-noodles, so we actually made a meal.” You explained. 

“For almost four hours? Meatballs take twenty minutes, twenty-five at a push,”

“We lost track of time!”

“I repeat, for four hours?” she asked again, folding her arms and raising one of her thin brows. You pursed your lips to stop yourself from saying anything else incriminating. “Though as much,”

“I didn’t even say anything!” 

“You didn’t need to, it’s written over your lovestruck face.” She poked her finger toward your nose, and all you could think about was the way Logan flicked your forehead beforehand or the way Logan gave you that little push back in the training room. Or the way Logan–

Christ on a fucking boat when would it end?

“I’m not lovestruck,” you mumbled, dragging your knees up to your chest. You debated telling Kitty about your predicament with your mutation, for the sole reason of explaining why you and Logan were spending so much time together recently, but you didn’t think you could bear the look on her face. The only ones who knew, to your understanding, were Scott, as the leader of the team, Jean, as the leading scientist, Charles for obvious reasons, and Logan because you told him. You didn’t really want another person to know your problems, especially not Kitty. 

You couldn’t bear to see her face when you told her you weren’t a phaser anymore. The mere thought broke your heart. You had matching mugs and everything. You couldn’t do that to her. Let alone sharing the idea that your mutation could simply not allow you to return back to the corporeal world one day, and you’d be stuck as nothing but wondering consciousness in the shadows for, effectively, all eternity. That was a little too morbid to talk about even with Logan.

“He’s just… helping me get back into the swing of things. I haven’t been a teacher for a long time, Kit, and since he took my position, he’s offered to help me–”

“Get back into teaching! Oh my god, he has, hasn’t he? That’s so exciting! I thought you didn’t want to get back into it?” She asked, untucking her legs and swinging them around so she was now lying comfortably on your bed, her head propped up on her elbow. 

“Well, we’re not getting ahead of ourselves, but yeah, that’s the idea. Gonna help him with his class tomorrow…” you trailed off, your heart beginning to accelerate at the thought of teaching your first class in two years. “So yeah, that’s why we’ve been spending so much time together. It’s nothing serious, promise! Plus, since most of the new students are kids I found, he’s pretty much the only person I don’t know here.” You flopped back down onto your bed, angling your head so you could still see her.

There was a moment of comfortable silence, a moment to let the conversation settle and for your heart to slow a little, before Kitty spoke up again. “He was really excited to meet you,” she offered quietly, and your brows raised subconsciously. “Everytime someone started talking about you, he’d tune in. He was subtle, but Marie noticed it first, and she told me to look out for it. He was looking forward to meeting you for the best part of a year.”

You took a deep breath. That couldn’t possibly be true. “You’re good at seeing things that aren’t there, Kit. I love you for it, but sometimes things really aren’t that deep,” you explained softly, trying your hardest not to smile at the image of Logan only tuning into the conversation if it was about you. It was definitely a stretch of the imagination, but it was a pleasant one.

“Yeah yeah, you watch. I’ll be keeping an eye on your totally platonic relationship with Professor Howlett but mark my words, you’ll be together by the end of the month,” Kitty smacked your calf to emphasise her point, and you shook your leg threateningly, laughing at the notion. 

“I cannot wait to see you eat your words. I’m sure they’ll taste of falsehoods and regret.” You flashed her a toothy grin, and she stuck her tongue out in retaliation. You’d missed moments like these. In all honesty, you hadn’t realised how lonely the last two years had been. Hadn’t realised how starved of friendship you’d been until you found yourself talking and laughing amongst friends again. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed this place until you came home again, to both the old friends, and the new. 

[confessionbrain-writings]

Trouble - Benny Cross

Summary: As promised, Benny waits for you after your shift to take you on a ride.

Pairing: Benny Cross x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smutty content, unprotected p in v

A/N: So first of all, thank you for the love on Rules. I suggest you read that part first, before reading this. Without further ado, here is part two. English isn’t my mother tongue so apologies for typos or mistakes. I do hope you enjoy! 🧡

Word count: approx 2,6k

The warmth of his palm seeped through your jeans into your skin, and as he started to draw small circles with his thumb, you were gone. You wanted him. And you wanted him badly. You scraped your throat and called his name. “Benny?” He tilted his head slightly, indicating he was listening. “Know that I really like this. Riding with you, right?” You asked and heard the frown in his voice when he replied. “But?” “But right now, I want you to take me home, so I can take you on a ride.”  A strangled noise escaped his throat as he squeezed your leg again. “Y’gonna be the death ‘f’me, sweetheart.”

Today was the busiest day ever. A lot of folks came to the diner during the day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Due to a shortage of staff, you’ve been running around all over the place, trying to get everything to everyone on time. You didn’t have time for a break or even think about your conversation with Benny that morning. 

When the last customer left the diner, Mary locked the front door, flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and let out a heavy sigh, before making her way to you and opened up her arms. “Come ‘ere my gift from God.”

An exhausted smile adorned your face at the compliment, and you happily entered her warm hug. Weariness weighing into the both of you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you the last couple days.” She said. “Thank you, my dear.”

Leaning back, you grabbed her arms and squeezed them affectionately as Mary continued. “I have some news. My sisters are coming over for two weeks and they volunteered to help me out. So I want to give us both the weekend off, so we can recharge ourselves. Whatcha say about that?”

You opened your mouth, but the thought of having the weekend off caught you by surprise. A few days off? Goodness! Finally, time to catch up on some sleep.

“That sounds… lovely.” You beamed. “Thanks, Mary!”

“No, thank you!” She chimed and booped your nose. “If y’wanna finish the tables, I’ll take care of the garbage and then call it a night.”

Nodding your response, you started to wipe down the last tables. The thought of being in your bed within a half hour had never felt so good. You would definitely sleep late tomorrow and then—

“Honey?” Mary’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Yeah, Mary?” You replied as you walked over to the sink to clean the cloth and wash your hands. Mary frowned and crossed her arms while looking between the backdoor and you. Feeling an uneasy flutter in your stomach, you walked up to her.

“Mary, what’s wrong?” You asked firmly.

She sighed before answering. “There is a biker outside. His name ’s Benny. Told me he’s waitin’ for ya. But wouldn’t be surprised ‘f his second name is Trouble.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and mentally slapped your forehead. Benny was waiting for you outside. Due to the chaos, you totally forgot about him, but with the mention of his name it was like a wave of adrenaline washed over you, making you forget about the exhaustion in your bones. 

A knowing smirk appeared on Mary’s face when she saw your shocked expression, you being too tired to control it. She stepped forward and cupped your face.

“I’m not blind, girl, and I know that look. Also, Benny isn’t hard on the eyes, now is he?”

“Mary, I—“

“Shh, dear,” She patted your cheeks. “All I can say is, be careful. But most importantly, have fun.”

Your eyes widened at her words. Was she serious right now?

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” she shushed and gave you a playful shove towards the backdoor. “I’ve been young too. Now go!”

—

You were greeted by the cool evening air, the breeze lifting a few strands of your hair, making them dance around your face. You’d quickly changed into a light denim jeans and black top before stepping outside, and adjusted the deep-brown jacket around your shoulders before you spotted Benny. And gosh, the sight of him made your heart beat like crazy. He looked even more attractive than you remembered. 

He was leaning casually against his bike, while taking a drag from his cigarette. As you made your way to him, his eyes focused on you and let them roam shamelessly over your body. And you would’ve lied if it didn’t add something to the pleasant flutters in your stomach.

“Hi.” You greeted him and a grin spread on his face. He released a breath of smoke and stared at you just like he did this morning. Inside you were trembling, but you forced yourself to keep your ground, trying to look cool and unbothered.  

“Hi.” He replied and crushed the cigarette bud under his boot. “Y’look stunnin’.”

Was it possible for him to see your heart beat furiously against your ribcage? Cause it definitely felt like it.

You hummed at his compliment, but didn’t respond to him, but asked instead, “Is it fast?”

Benny followed your gaze to his bike and tilted his head. “Wanna find out?” Without waiting for your reply, he sat himself down and kick-started the motor in one go. Well, add that to the list of kinks, because that was hot as hell.

You breathed out through your nose and took place behind him, your legs bracketing his frame.

“Hold on t’me, sweetheart.” He told you over his shoulder, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Well, he didn’t need to tell you twice. You bit your lip and let your hands roam over his sides, taking your time so you could feel him out, before ending at his stomach. And heavens above, what did this man feel good. 

Benny smiled and shook his head while muttering ‘trouble’, probably not expecting you being this bold. He petted your hands, but left them where they were.

“Don’t let go f’me.”

Before you could reply, he took off. And damn, it was fast. You’ve never been on a bike and the speed caught you off guard. Out of reflex you tightened your grip, pressing yourself firmly against his back and you could’ve sworn he let out a satisfied hum. 

—

The town passed by in a blur. Benny didn’t care about the red lights, since he just ran straight through them. Usually you would’ve said something about it, but it was late and there was practically no one on the road. Besides that, this new experience was way too exhilarating. 

Adrenaline pumped through your veins. The wind yanking your hair from your face and tears started to form in your eyes. Especially after you arrived on the open road. Benny sped up, which earned him a tiny yelp from you as you gripped him harder. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him smirk. Mentally, you shook your head. Show-off. 

—

Time passed - or more like, flew - by and you started to get used to the speed and the fact that you sat on a motorcycle behind a handsome man. You embraced the feeling of the bike beneath you, the warm and soft back of Benny against your breasts. Feeling a tingle low in your stomach, you adjusted your hands a bit, so one hand was on his lower stomach and the other above it, feeling how his chest rose and fell as he breathed. 

You started to feel bold and added some pressure, feeling the contours of him even better, making you swoon over him. A small grumble escaped Benny, and you suddenly felt his left palm on your knee. The warmth of his palm seeped through your jeans into your skin, and as he started to draw small circles with his thumb, you were gone. You wanted him. And you wanted him badly.

You scraped your throat and called his name. “Benny?”

He tilted his head slightly, indicating he was listening.

“Know that I really like this. Riding with you, right?” You asked and heard the frown in his voice when he replied. “But?”

“But right now, I want you to take me home, so I can take you on a ride.” 

A strangled noise escaped his throat as he squeezed your leg again. “Y’gonna be the death ‘f’me, sweetheart.”

—

Just a few seconds passed between getting off the bike, to the moment Benny had kicked the front door shut, and had you pressed against it. Placing his palm next to your head, leaning in, and grabbing your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

Without wasting another second, he hungrily pressed his lips against yours. You fisted his shirt and pulled him in. The build-up tension from before and on the ride were taking over. Both of your hands grabbed, stroked and squeezed each other. Tearing at each others clothes, while your lips met over and over again. And boy oh boy, what was he a good kisser.

Blindly your hands cascaded over his chest to unbuckle his belt, only breaking the kiss so Benny could take off his shirt, while you kicked off your shoes. Benny taking your shirt off right after as he kicked off his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

The both of you panted heavily, taking a split moment to admire each other. It was very clear that Benny was aroused and the sight of him added even more to the already throbbing pulse between your legs. 

You placed your hands on his pecs, feeling how his heart was also hammering, and guided him to the couch. The back of his knees met the seating, and before he even completely sat down, you were onto his lap. His hands found the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh which subtracted a moan from you.

Benny’s hand snaked to your nape, treading his fingers through your roots and tugged. Another moan escaped you, while meeting his darkened gaze. He dragged his nose along your cheek to your neck where he kissed you just below your ear. A sudden bursts of goosebumps broke out all over your skin and you gripped his shoulders, the sensation making your gasp out his name.

“Benny!”

He chuckled and swiftly unhooked your bra, leaning back a bit so he could admire you. His lust-filled eyes took you in, his mouth slightly agape and looked back at your face, shaking his head lightly. Not believing how incredibly you looked and felt on him.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer so he could close his lips around your nipple. You dug your nails into the skin of his biceps, leaving small crescents from the exploding sensation when he flicked his tongue over the erected bud, licking and sucking. It was like Benny had you under his spell. Your hips started to grind onto him, wanting more, more and more.

Your hands made their way down, stroking his hard cock over his boxer, electing a groan from him. “Oh, baby,” he said huskily. “Y’re so beautiful.”

The words set your skin aflame. “I want you so bad, Benny.” You whispered and slid your hand under the fabric, skin meeting skin. It was like something within Benny snapped, because before you knew it, his boxers were off and he dragged you forward, so you were grinding on him directly. The only boundary between you were your panties. 

“Y’have no idea how bad I want you.” he replied and snaked his hand between the two of you. A desperate moan left you as he stroked your throbbing clit through your panties and you bucked your hips at him. 

“Y’ready, baby?” 

“Please!” You begged, feeling like you were about to jump out of your skin. He skillfully moved your panties to the side, not wanting to waste any more time to get them off, and dragged his fingers along your wetness. You were definitely ready.

Benny replaced his fingers with his cock, feeling the tip of him pressing against your entrance. You lifted your hips and looked at him. His intense gaze locking you in as you slowly sank down.

His brows furrowed as you sank lower, reveling in the sensation. Your eyes fluttered close as a wave of pleasure washed over you. 

“Eyes on me.” He breathed, guiding you up and then down again. A desperate moan bubbled out of your throat as you started to ride him, while trying to hold his gaze, but he felt so good that you couldn’t help but let them close for a second.

You jumped a bit when you felt Benny’s broad palm firmly grabbing your jaw. “I said, eyes on me.” He repeated and somehow his voice got even lower. A burst of pleasure flooded you at the dominance in his voice. Snapping your attention completely to him. 

Numbly you nodded at him and started to move your hips, your hands found their way on his shoulders for leverage. You shuddered when you felt his hands move down your waist, resting them there and supporting you as you kept rolling your hips, feeling him in all the right spots. 

The sounds of slapping skin and moans filled the room as you upped your pace. You felt his grip tightening, guiding you down on him with every buck of your hips. Pushing all the way in and out. All the while, while holding his gaze. Blue, lustful eyes held you under his spell, feeling like he could look right into your soul. 

And the noises he made.. they almost felt sinful. You’ve shared the bed with men before, but most of them weren’t that vocal, but Benny on the other hand.. He didn’t hold back the grunts and moans as you rode him so deliciously. Only that could’ve send you over the edge.

Slowly your legs started to tremble, both from pleasure and exertion. You moved your hands back to his neck, grabbing his hair at the base and leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his ear. “You fuck me so good, Benny” you said and emphasized your words with pressing your lips at the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Benny cursed at your words and the way your lips felt, feeling you suck his skin.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, relieving some pressure from your straining legs and started to take over the pace. You held him tight and couldn’t stop the moans and pleas leaving your lips as he started to pound into you at a feral pace. Benny fucked you so good, it made your toes curl.

The new position electing even more pleasure from you. With every thrust his pubic bone met your clit, making pleasure pound through your veins. It didn’t take you long at all and just before you came, Benny pulled your head back, so he could look at you.

You really tried your best to keep your eyes open, but when your orgasm washed over you, you couldn’t help but close them. Reveling in the intense sensations as you threw your head back and moaned out his name in ecstasy. 

His grip returned to your waist, thrusting through your orgasm and with a few strokes he grunted out your name. Your eyes snapped open and you were just in time to witness how his face displayed his own pleasure. His jaw unclenched, mouth open and his sweat-covered brows bunching together. Feeling how his nails dug into your skin, which you could swear would leave some marks later on, but you couldn’t care less, and lifted you up, pulling out just in time before he came. 

Your whole body tingled and you let out a satisfied hum. Benny’s attention was back on you, and you watched how your sex-drunk smile was mirrored onto his face. 

A comfortable silence stretched between you. Benny reached out and tucked a string of hair behind your ear. The gentle gesture made you shiver.

“What y’re doin’ this weekend, sweetheart?” Benny broke the silence and licked his lips. The question was so casual, almost making you forget you were on his lap, naked and sticky with cum and sweat. 

“Actually, I have the weekend off. So I’m free.”

“Good,” he started and let his eyes roam over you again, before continueing. “Y’wanna spend it with me? Let me take you for ‘nother ride?”

A smile tugged at your lips, leaning forward. “I like that, Benny.” You whispered and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I like that a lot.”

Leave some 🧡 by a comment or reblog, would love to hear what you think and if you like to read more!

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Hiii does 20 and Tyler Owens work for intimacy prompts? 🙏

“I Have A Question”

Fandom: Twisters (2024)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: When Tyler wakes you up in the morning, you never would’ve expected what comes next. (Intimacy Prompt 20. “A Hand Written Note”)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Just good, old-fashioned, tooth-rotting fluff over here, folks. Seriously, you’ll need to book a dentist appointment after this. The cavities are insane! I made myself nauseous. 😂

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing fanfiction again for a LONG TIME! It’s very rusty (and possibly OOC?), so any feedback is appreciated! @loveatfirsttornado I hope this does your request justice. 💖

Sunlight filtered in through the airy curtains of the window as Tyler Owens stepped into the bedroom, a mug of coffee in each hand. Bracing himself against the doorway, he took a moment to admire the form sleeping in the bed before him.

Messy, unkempt hair and a ragged tank top and shorts peeked out from the mess of blankets and sheets. The whispered sighs of your breathing played melodically across the room as he watched the sun gently touch the skin of your cheeks, crawling up to warm the edge of your eyelids. With a scrunch of your nose, you turned away from the rising sun and burrowed your face further into your pillow, a heavy sigh wracking the sheets before you once again remained still.

God, you were beautiful in the morning. Tyler was sure he would never grow tired of seeing you like this.

Moving away from his position in the doorway, he slowly made his way to your side of the bed, setting the mugs quietly on the bedside table before carefully running a hand through your knotted hair, tucking a few strands behind your ear.

You murmured, sighed, eyelids fluttering slightly at the intrusion before your expression relaxed once again, remaining in the peaceful slumber you clung to every morning.

Chuckling softly under his breath, Tyler placed a hand square on your shoulder and nudged lightly. Still sleeping, you frowned, lips shaping into an irritated pout as your face pinched together.

“C’mon, sweetheart.” Rubbing circles on your arm with his thumb, he squatted down until he was eye level with you. “C’mon, it’s time to get up.”

The birds chirping outside the window mingled with the groan that left your mouth. The sheets rustled faintly beneath you. And then, your bleary, sleep-filled eyes blinked up at him, unfocused, until a tender smile worked itself onto your lips.

You sighed and buried your face back into the pillow, mumbling a brief, “Good morning, baby.”

“Good mornin’.” He smirked.

A shy smile and tinge of pink to your cheeks winked at him from behind the pillow.

Leaning until his forearms were braced beside you on the bed, he pushed a stray strand of hair away from your hiding face and waited for you to look at him. You eventually did.

“Did I ever tell ya…” he drawled, invading the space between you, swimming in the affection brewing in the depths of your eyes. God, he fell in love again every time he looked at your eyes. “How beautiful you are in the mornings?”

Pink washed up into your cheeks again, but a soft curve formed on your lips. “Every morning.”

“Good.” His fingers brushed the underside of your jaw, trailing up to the base of your skull and tangling in your hair. “I wouldn’t want you to forget it.”

“Hmmm.” You hummed into his mouth as his lips descended on yours, his hand tangling further into your hair. He needed you close, closer, running a hand down your back, steady pressure slowly moving you forward into his arms.

He broke the kiss abruptly, pulling back far enough to gaze into your eyes, tenderness overwhelming his expression.

“Sweetheart, I– I have something I need to ask you.”

Heart pounding in his chest, palms sweaty, he pulled out the slightly crumpled, ink-stained paper he’d carried around in his back pocket for almost a month now.

With shaky hands, he passed the note over to your waiting fingers. His breath caught in his lungs as he watched you unfold it and begin reading.

Sweetheart,

This past year has been a whirlwind.

I never imagined anyone would ever make me as happy as you do. Let alone that that someone would look at me with the love and affection I see in your eyes every day.

You are my morning sunrise. My perfect storm. My heart. My life. My everything.

I can’t even imagine spending the rest of my life without you.

So, I have a question. And I want you to look up from this paper so I can ask it properly…

Tyler

“Tyler, I–”

But the words never left your mouth. There, right before the bed, Tyler moved to rest on one knee, a black velvet box nestled safely within his sweating hands.

Shock. Disbelief.

He watched it all flash across your face.

Nerves set his stomach in his throat, but he swallowed until he could force the words he’d rehearsed for hours in the bathroom out. The words he’d repeatedly annoyed Boone and Lily with for weeks in order to ensure everything resonated perfectly.

“Darlin’, you’re the best thing to ever happen to me. From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were somethin’ special. And when you followed me and the other wranglers into that first storm, I knew, come hell or high water, I was gonna do everything in my power to make sure that smile stayed on your face for the rest of your life. You’re more beautiful than any storm. More vibrant than a summer day. I am the luckiest man in the world to be able to have you in my life.

“And now,” Tyler flipped the box open, revealing the diamond-studded ring beneath. He watched tears stream down your cheeks as you clung to his every word, eyes locked on his gaze. Hopeful and waiting. “Now I have just one question.”

The oxygen in the room vanished.

He forced a breath into his lungs and let your full name spill from his tongue, followed by the much-awaited question.

“Will you marry me?”

You were nodding before he even finished the sentence.

“Yes.” The whisper was thick, quiet, rasping against the emotion closing your throat. Tears poured from your eyes and forged trails down your face.

But all Tyler heard was the word itself.

“Yes, Tyler, of course. My God!”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, gripping his hair and bringing his lips crashing into your own. The box toppled from his hands, landing with a clatter on the hardwood floors as you all but crawled into his lap. You pulled away, joy still gleaming in your eyes and a radiant smile brighter than the sun itself painted across your face.

“What took you so long?”

Beaming from ear to ear, Tyler picked the box up off the floor and slipped the ring onto your finger, the diamond sparkling in the early-morning sunlight. But not nearly as much as you were now.

“I wanted to take my time. Do it right. If you feel it…”

“Chase it,” you finished for him.

“That’s right.” He swallowed, staring into your eyes, absorbing the tiny crinkle to your nose and residual wetness on your lashes. “I wanted to make sure I chased it right.”

With a final adoring gaze, his lips met yours again.

And you smiled into the kiss, the coffee cold and forgotten on the nightstand.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[eat-limes-bitches]

Nowhere else I'd Rather Be

PAIRING: Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: Soft blues and sunsets make for the perfect wedding.

SONGS: Entrance (0:42 if you want the specific time), Y/n's vows, Bucky's vows

WARNINGS: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

Word Count:

A/N: So here it is! The last installment of this, mini-series I guess! I had such a blast writing this and between you and me, I had fully intended on waiting to post this until I was back from my horse show next week, but I couldn't wait. No way in hell, so I hope you enjoy it! If you have any ideas for future writings, my ask box is looking a little empty and sad! Send some ideas my way!

Italics are memories, bold italics are song lyrics

Part 1 | Part 2

Enjoy! <3

Divider by Rookthorne

(3 YEARS LATER)

To say he was nervous would be an understatement. Bucky frantically fiddled with his tie, looking at the color, which caused him to smile for a moment. It was blue, but not bright, soft. Like worn denim. The same blue that matched the upholstery on the deep oak chairs that lined the dried flower petal pathway to where he was standing. The soft fall breeze caused a few of the petals to swirl around at his feet, reminding him of why he was here in the first place.

Bucky heard her humming from the other room when he got home from his morning run. Kicking off his shoes, he followed the sound of the humming to find Y/n plucking the drying petals off of the most recent bouquet, carefully depositing each petal into a glass jar.

“What’cha doing doll?” He called out, startling Y/n causing her to drop the flower she was currently working on.

“Jesus Buck! You scared me!” The pout that appeared on her face caused a chuckle to rumble in his chest. He swept her up in his arms, placing a kiss on her temple.

“Sorry darlin’. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Y/n hummed in delight as Bucky tightened his embrace.

“Well, if you must know-” She teased, spinning in his arms to face him, “I'm saving the flower petals from the bouquets you give me.”  

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Can I ask why?”

Y/n just smiled.  “Someday, when we get married, I want to use the flower petals from all of the flowers you have given me to decorate the aisle I walk down towards you.”

A hand on his shoulder snapped Bucky back to the present. 

“Hey man, you good? You looked a little lost there for a moment.” Sam said, brushing off Bucky’s suit. Bucky let out a shaky breath and smiled. 

“Yeah, jus’ thinkin’ bout how we got here.”  

Sam nodded his head and gave Bucky another pat on the shoulder before resuming his spot as best man. As he stood there, Bucky looked around at everyone who was there. Y/n’s immediate family was there of course, along with a couple of dear friends in her bridal party. On Bucky’s side, he had Sam and Torres as his groomsmen, and sitting in the crowd, he saw Suri sitting up front with both of Sam’s nephews, to help with the rings, Sarah was sitting nearby with a gentle smile on her face as she visited with the other folks. The kid who worked the counter at Joe’s on Saturdays, Howie, was there too smiling up at Bucky. Most of Sam’s family, who had accepted Bucky as one of their own were in the crow as well, mingling with Y/n’s family. Sam was gracious enough to let the couple use the backyard of the house for the small wedding.

The pair were a few weeks into wedding planning when the talk of location and size came up. 

“How big is this whole thing gonna be, doll?” Bucky asked as he looked at the different swatches of blue fabric sitting on their coffee table.  

Y/n sighed, “Would it be bad if I said I didn’t want a lot of people there? 50 at most?” Bucky looked up from the fabrics to meet Y/n’s gaze.

“Not at all.” He said with a smile, reaching for her hand across the table. “I think a small wedding is just our style if we are being completely honest.” Y/n smiled sweetly at him before resuming her mission to find the flowers she wanted.

“I think you are right. Do you think Sam would let us use the backyard of the house in Louisiana? It's so quiet, and in the fall when those big trees in the backyard are changing color? Underneath that willow tree? Oh, Bucky I think it’d be perfect!” 

Y/n was gushing at the idea, and with the way her eyes sparkled as she described the scene, Bucky was willing to do just about anything to make that dream a reality for her, and of course, as soon as he asked Sam, he said yes.

Bucky blinked back into the present. The fairy lights were starting to show their glow hanging from the branches of the willow tree, swaying gently in the breeze. The sun was just starting to set, the inky purples and blues of the evening starting to slip into the sky, just letting the stars peak out through all of the colors dancing above them. The colors of the leaves danced in the golden light, reflecting off the water nearby, creating a beautiful mosaic of color all around the crowd of people.  Suddenly the music changed. The filler music that had been playing for how long now, Bucky didn’t know, but he did know the song that was playing, it was the song that they danced to that night in the living room when Bucky decided that she was the one for him.

The pair had been cooking dinner, but when the next song on Y/n’s playlist came on, her eyes lit up, matching the smile that found its way onto her face.

“Oh Bucky I love this song! I know it’s not really slow dancing music but will you dance with me?” 

Bucky chuckled as he swept her into the middle of their kitchen. He spun her just as the chorus started and what happened next sealed his fate forever. As she spun, she laughed, one of the most beautiful sounds Bucky had ever heard. The golden rays of the sun danced off of her hair casting a golden glow in the room around them. When she was back in his arms, he pulled her close and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Marry me?” He asked softly. Y/n’s breath froze, perpetually stuck in her lungs.

“What?” She whispered, staring up at him wide-eyed. 

Bucky looked at her. “Y/F/N Y/L/N, will you marry me? I swear I’ll do this again, proper with a ring and everythin’ but I gotta know darling, will you marry me?”

Right as the same chorus started, Y/n appeared at the end of the aisle from Bucky. Sometime during his reminiscing, everyone had stood up and watched her appear, and now were now watching him as he took in the love of his life, standing there in white, bouquet of sunflowers, spray roses, and chamomile in her hands as she started walking towards him. Bucky couldn’t think of a single thing he had done right in his incredibly long life to deserve to be standing where he was right now, but he was forever grateful. 

Time flew by and before he knew it it was time for their vows. Y/n went first. 

“Bucky, ever since I’ve met you we’ve had a lot of learning and growing we have done over our three years together, one of the most noticeable things I have learned is when you go quiet, and won't let your guard down, I hear through the silence that you're trying to figure it out. You're trying to make me proud, believe me now, Baby, to the Moon and back

I still love you more than that. When your skies are grey, and your whole world is shaking

To the Moon and back, I love you more than that.”  

Bucky’s Adam's apple bobbed furiously up and down as the tears streamed down his face. He pulled the pocket square out of his suit pocket and tried to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks but to no avail, they had started flowing the moment Y/n had appeared at the end of the aisle. Steadying himself with a breath, Bucky began his vows.

I remember when I saw you at the movies, and to me, you were a stranger in the room.

But to my surprise, I met your eyes and that was when I knew. Yeah without a doubt, I took you out for coffee. We sat for hours at a table made for two. I love the flowers in your footprints and the sparkle in your eyes. It doesn't matter if it rains or shines cuz I'll be by your side. For the record, you're my treasure, I love you more and more, and after all that we've been through, I can say it, you're my favorite and you'll always be my muse and I hope that in your heart you know it's true.” 

Sam’s nephews brought up the rings, and with a little help from Suri, Bucky had a ring on his finger, identical to the one decorating Y/n’s hand. After the preacher said ‘You may now kiss the bride’ The rest of the evening was a blur for the couple. But once the party was in full swing and they took a rest from dancing, Bucky pulled Y/n into his arms, pressed a kiss to her temple, and whispered in her ear, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, than here with you.”

[dreamofbetterthings]

"The things I can show you." Thomas Doherty x Reader

Prompt: “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Celebrity: Thomas Doherty/Walter Deville Movie: The Invitation Spoilers: None, this follows nothing from the movie. Summary: Filming for you and Thomas' new movie was a breeze… until he walked onto the set with fangs. Word Count: 4K

Warnings: 18+ choking kink, pet names (honey, sweetheart), biting kink, slight dubcon towards the beginning, dirty talk, slight impregnation kink?, begging, blood? I think that's all. If I miss any please let me know.

Minors DNI You are responsible for your own content consumption. I can tell you the post is not for minors, but if you choose not to listen, that is on you.

A/N I pulled this out of my head in the wee hours of the morning and could not lay back down until it was written and published. Reader is AFAB (assigned female at birth) I know my uploading schedule is shit. I am working on it. Also, chapter 3 of It's Been A Long, Long Time will be up soon. Until then, here's some slow-burn smut to keep ya nasties entertained. You're welcome.

You and Thomas spent nearly every day together on set. Even when he wasn't set to shoot anything that day, he was always hanging around the director to see every scene you filmed. The Invitation was a well-talked-about movie and based on what the folks on social media were saying, you were excited to let the world see the finished result. Thomas always managed to know when you would walk onto the set, and be the first person to speak to you.

"Good morning. I have a coffee for you." Thanking him, you took the coffee and all but chugged it. When you could hear his laughter, you pulled away from the cup.

"Oh come on. You act like you don't do the same thing when we've been filming all day." He puts his hands up in surrender and smiles.

"I won't deny that." Thomas grabs a script from a nearby table and flips through the sections of the script that are blocked in blue.

"Speaking of filming, most of the scenes look relatively quick for today. I think we're doing the last bit of scenes between the two of us and then we'll shift to the courtyard stuff after lunch." He shows you the script and before you can say anything, his name is being called into hair and makeup.

"And let the chaos ensue." He lets out a little chuckle.

"I wish you weren't right about that. I'll see you on the set?" Nodding your head you hear your own name being called. "Absolutely. Let's kill it today!" The two of you walk in your respective directions toward hair and makeup.

Run.

That was the only thing on your mind right now. Your feet hammered against the ground as you ran through the hallway. Your heart pounded against your chest, body aching. Your bag along with your phone was long gone as you ran for your life. Whoever that was, whatever it was that you were running away from, was not human. It looked like one, it sounded like one, but you knew better. An ominous growl came from behind and you could hear footsteps towards you.

You sprinted around the corner and took many twists and turns throughout the house, but every door you came to was somehow now locked, despite not being earlier. Running a few more feet down the hall you managed to find an unlocked door. You quickly ran into the room and silently closed the door before locking it.

It was another bedroom. The windows were barred and there were no other interconnecting rooms. You were screwed. The only places to hide were under the bed and in the closet. You decided against trying to fit your large dress under the bed and slipped into the surprisingly spacious closet. After what felt like an eternity of silence, there was a jiggle of the doorknob. A menacing laugh was heard on the other end of the door, before a large bang, and the door flew open.

Peering through the cracks of the doors, you saw him. You could see his shadow in the dimly lit room as he walked past your hiding spot and looked around. As he padded further into the room, you slid as far back as you could into the clothing, praying he wouldn’t know you were there. Through the thin slots of the closet door, you could see he was just standing there. Almost like he was thinking. Your eyes closed, and you silently hoped he would just go check somewhere else. That’s when you heard it.

"There you are."

Your eyes shot open. The door to the closet was pulled open, and he was staring directly into your soul. You quickly duck as he reaches out to grab you and somehow manage to make it to the other door. Just as your hand goes to turn the knob, a pair of hands reach around your waist, and you let out a scream you didn’t even know your voice was capable of creating. For a split second, you feel the wind around you, then the bed sheets violently connect with your back. You wished the mattress would just swallow you whole. Too afraid to look at the monster hovering above, you turn your face to the side. The creature finally speaks.

“Well, that took longer than expected. Had me thinking you’d actually make it out of here.”

“We had a deal.” There was nothing to hide how your voice trembled. The bed shook as he actually laughed.

“I don’t think you quite understood the rules of the game, honey. The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…” His hand finds its way around your throat and your shaking continues as he forces you to look at his face. The only thing catching your attention are the two abnormally sharp canines in his mouth. “Then you would stay here, with me.” He looks around the room and then back at you. “Last time I checked, you’re still in the house sweetheart.” He sees the tears running down your face and brushes them away with his other hand. “Don’t be so sad about it. Think of it this way. I try to be a man of my word. If you did find some magical way of making it outside, I would’ve let you go. No surprises, no tricks, nothing… but you didn’t. Do you know what that means?” His grip around your throat gets tighter and you feel a small amount of blood run as one of his claws scratches the side of your neck. He takes a deep inhale and groans. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen in fear and you want to move, but you can’t due to his grip around your throat. He turns your head to the side and you close your eyes. Not wanting to know what he’s going to do. Reaching down to your neck, he sticks his tongue out and licks up the bead of blood that gathered on your neck. Your entire body shakes. Moving his head, you can feel his fangs graze against your ear as he whispers. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.”

“AND CUT!”

Thomas’ hand instantly leaves your throat and he takes your hands to pull you up so your back is against the headboard. “Are you alright? You were shaking really bad.” Not trusting your voice at the moment, you nod your head and laugh nervously. “Dude, you’re scary as fuck.” He laughs in response and wraps his arms around you in a hug. You do the same and the director, Oliver, comes over to the side of the bed visibly concerned. “Are you two okay?”

Looking over at Thomas, he gives you a smile and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. You nod and smile. “Yeah, we’re good Oli.” He offers his hand and helps get the two of you out of the ridiculously large bed. As you straighten out your dress, Oliver speaks again. “I know we only did one take, but that was probably the best one we’ve gotten since filming started.” He turns and looks at you. “There was no point throughout the entire scene where I wasn’t genuinely scared for you. If the two of you keep this up, we might finish ahead of schedule.” The two of you thank him and walk over to his chair to watch the playback of the scene.

One of the assistants brings water for the two of you and you both thank her. Oliver plays the scene back from the beginning and instead of focusing on your own work, the second Thomas appears on the screen, and suddenly you feel the heat making its way through your body.

He looked really good.

And those fangs…

You could melt into the floor right about now. Oliver and Thomas are talking but you can’t manage to listen in on the conversation, let alone say anything. Your attention was on Thomas and how he managed to look attractive and terrifying at the same time. There were times when you swore the only reason he signed onto this film was because he liked being a bad guy. It was like he reveled in it, and he did it so well. Your eyes stay glued to the screen and you don’t notice Thomas watching how you respond to his presence.

You tossed your keys onto the counter of your hotel room, your shoes come off and you let yourself fall back on the bed. A loud sigh leaves your lips. There has never been a day that you wanted filming to end so badly. After a couple of seconds, you throw your phone on the charger and finally pull yourself up from the bed, grab your towel and clothes, and head for a much-needed shower. You quickly change and when the temperature is just right, you step in and immediately feel your shoulders relax.

As you wash your body off, you start to think to yourself, why were you so worked up today? After the first scene with Thomas, every slight brush of his hand against yours, or hand on your back sent a wave of heat throughout your body. Simple motions that are seemingly harmless in nature were reducing you to a trembling mess. Granted, you don't have a partner, so sexual frustration could definitely be the cause, but why now? You feel the heat spread to your core just at the thought. Shaking your head, you finish your shower and change into your shirt and underwear that you brought into the bathroom with you.

After drying your hair, the steam from your previous shower dissipates as you walk into the other room and you look around confused.

You could've sworn you kept the lights on.

Shaking your head, you cut on the soft light on your nightstand and reach for your phone.

Which was not on the charger where you left it.

Now you're starting to freak out.

Looking around the room, it seems like your phone is nowhere in sight. Almost like it disappeared. You check your bag, in case you didn't actually plug it in, but it's not there. Nothing in the clothes you wore that day, hell, you even checked your suitcase. Your phone is just gone. Going over to the hotel phone, you pick it up and try to dial your number, only to realize the phone cord is missing from the base. You stand there frustrated and a little scared for a couple of seconds before a voice snaps your head towards the front door.

"You didn't think I'd make it easy for you to call for help, did you?"

Slowly reaching for the heaviest thing closest to you, the shadow walks into the light and you let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Thomas. You can't sneak up on someone when they're fresh out of the shower!" Walking over to him, you ask. "So unless a crazed fan managed to break in, I'm assuming you have my phone?" He pulls something out of his pocket and you see the familiar case, indicating he did in fact, have it.

Flashing it in front of your face, you reach to grab your phone, but he leans away from you so you can't take it. "Yeah, I don't think you'll be needing it tonight." Giving him a "Really?" you go to get your phone and he pulls it away from your grasp once again. Letting out a frustrated huff, you put your hands on your hips. "Come on Thomas, give me my phone. I have to check my emails." You see him toss your device behind him, lucky that there was a couch sitting where it landed, and when he turns back to you, he speaks again. "Like I said. I don't think you'll be needing it tonight. After all, why would I make it easy for you to call for help?" Your eyebrows furrow, and you laugh, although slightly uncomfortable with how the air in the room seemed to shift. It felt, darker. Every bone in your body told you to leave. Turning around to look for a pair of pants, you mumble to yourself. "Alright, I did not plan on my night ending like this."

Turning around, you let out a scream and drop your sweatpants as a hand comes up and covers your mouth. He was standing so close you could feel his breath on your face. Looking Thomas in the eyes, they were dark, and you suddenly felt like you were no longer safe in his presence. "I don't think you quite understand the rules of the game honey." He stares into your eyes and the next thing you know, your feet are walking backward on their own until you are stopped by the edge of the bed. He remembers his hand is covering your mouth and speaks again. "The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…Then you would stay with me. Do you know what that means?” You struggle to get out a couple of muffled sounds when he brings his face closer to yours. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen as the lamp in the room shows his face fully, and that's when you see it.

He was in the outfit from the first scene you two filmed earlier that morning. You glance down at his mouth and you feel the heat pool at your legs.

He had the fangs in.

He leans his mouth down against your ear like he did earlier that day, and repeated the same line. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Next thing you know you're being laid down on the bed, and the man you once knew as your friend was hovering over you. "What do you want with me?" Your voice was weak, and judging from the smile that never left his face, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying toying with you. He leans down and drags his tongue against your neck, earning a strained whine to leave your mouth. "I simply want what I've been waiting this whole time for…you. I've seen the way you look at me when you think nobody is watching. And it made me want to take you then and there, but no. I couldn't do it with so many people around. So, what better time than now? Your phone is off, the landline is disconnected, and as far as anybody coming to rescue you goes, they all think you're headed to sleep with the rest of the cast."

If there was any time to hate yourself for not wearing pants to bed, now was that time. Thomas moved your legs apart with his knee and ground his hips into you, showing you just how tight the bulge in his jeans had become. You let out a small gasp that he managed to catch, and he let out a smile. "Something tells me you're enjoying yourself more than I expected. I don't even think I'll have to compel you." His large hands lift up the bottom of your shirt, exposing your underwear, and you shiver as the cool night air exposes you in such an intimate place. He carefully pulls the thin fabric down and off your ankles with ease, and your body goes tense. He looks you in the eyes and asks the last question you thought could ever come out of his mouth.

"Do I have your permission honey?" You shift needily against the bed as you let out a small "Yes." That's the only approval he asks before his fingers gently reach down and feel the wetness between your folds and you sigh quietly. A groan leaves his lips. "Is all that for me baby? You like it when I touch you like this?" His slender fingers brush against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, making you unknowingly moan. "There we go. You're such a good girl for me." He does it again, and again until he's rubbing gentle circles on your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. Your body relaxes into the bed as Thomas continues whispering into your ear. "That's is baby. Relax. It's just you and me. I want you to enjoy this."

He was taking his time with you, and to an outsider looking in, it was almost sweet. Not long after, the fear left your brain and was replaced with nothing but bliss. He must've been able to tell when your last fighting bit of sanity faded because he became more eager. "There's so much I want to do with you, honey. I want to taste you until you cum on my tongue. Wanna feel you clench around my cock as I ravish you." His hand on your clit sped up a little. "I wanna see the look on your face when you come undone because of me. At first, I didn't think you could take it. But I know you can. I know you can take all of me. I know you can handle everything I give you because you're such a good girl, and I know you wanna be good for me. Right baby?" Your small whimpers have progressed to moans as you stop fighting the sensation and start to welcome it.

Out of nowhere, the feeling is gone as he removes his fingers from your clit, but quickly replaced them when he lays down and licks through your folds. Your breathing was fast and heavy as his tongue went to work. The sensation builds when he slips two fingers into you and easily starts pumping them in and out. You were almost there, and he could tell. He moaned against your clit and gently grazed it with his fangs, and that was all it took before you exploded. You threw your head back against the bed as you came, and Thomas latched onto your clit sucking on it to prolong your orgasm for as long as he could.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean before standing up and discarding his clothes in an almost superhuman nature, before he's back to hovering over you. His lips attach to yours and you eagerly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "If you taste that good, I can only imagine what you feel like." Looking down at him, your eyes get wide.

He's not abnormally huge, but definitely bigger than any man you've been with to date. He rubs his cock between your folds and you moan at the overstimulation, still coming down from your high. He rests his hand on the back of your head and looks you in the eyes. "You're going to take all of me, yeah?" You can only nod as you no longer trust your voice. He leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss again as he slowly pushes inside you.

He releases your mouth to let out a moan, and by god… this was the moment you realized you were in over your head. Every time you thought he was fully in, he would slide in more, and more. He finally bottoms out and you swear you're seeing stars. No, fuck that. You were seeing galaxies. He only gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before he pulls himself almost all the way out, and sinks back in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The pace was brutally slow but felt wonderful. You couldn't pay attention to anything but how he felt, and it felt ungodly. He finds his own rhythm within a few thrusts and it was like you died and went to wherever the hell you were currently. He brings his other hand from around your waist and slides it down to your leg, wrapping it around his waist and allowing him to sink in just a little deeper, and you cry out.

A smile forms on his lips and he keeps his hand on your leg, refusing to let you not feel the full extent of what this angle could provide. Noticing your hands are gripping your bedsheets, he moves his hand from behind your head and takes your own to grab at his body. He thrusts into you again, and again, over and over, the new angle allowing him to drag his cock against just the right spot that drove you wild. Leaning down to rest his forehead against yours, he pants out. "Fuck, baby. It's like this sweet pussy of yours was made for me."

You could feel your second orgasm building and lord help you because you were so close. Thomas seemed to notice as well, your walls practically trying to suck him in completely. He speeds up his pace ever so slightly and that's when you feel the pressure of his hand going around your neck. He leans down and talks into your ear. "I can feel you're close honey. God. I'm going to put a fucking baby in you. Would you like that? You want me to cum inside this gorgeous little cunt, huh?" You moan and try to nod as your nails scratch up and down his arms and back. "Yes, yes Thomas, please!" He laughs a little at how you answered him. "Aw, yeah? You're so cock drunk you're begging me to cum inside your pretty pussy?" He makes you look at him as your eyes keep closing. "Beg for it again, and maybe, if you're good for me, I'll let you cum."

Your voice is nothing but whimpers and whines as you plead with your eyes. A chorus of "Please." leaves your mouth and that satisfies him to the point where he is kissing and sucking on the side of your neck. "I want you to cum, and I want you to let everybody in this hotel know whose cock is making you feel this good. Can you do that for me?" You just nod as you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge. He applies more pressure against your throat, and that's all it takes. As your climax begins, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and you let out a struggling moan from the sensation as you cum. The only name on your lips is his over and over, like a broken record. Thomas moans against your neck and he starts to tense, holding you as close to him as possible. He seats himself as far into you as he can, and the warm feeling of his cock shooting his cum inside you only prolongs your orgasm.

After the two of you finally come down from your respective highs, he turns the two of you on your side and lies there. Giving you a chance to intake some form of oxygen. You pant out a weak "Oh my god." and you feel the rumble from his body as he laughs. "I told you, adding the fangs would be a great idea." It takes every ounce of energy in your body to raise your arm and playfully hit him. "Shut up, that was God tier even if you didn't have them in." He laughs again and as he agrees, you ask, "Where the hell did all that dirty talk come from?" Thomas shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "A master of his craft never reveals his secrets." Playfully rolling your eyes, a yawn escapes your mouth.

Thomas pulls out of you and you sigh sadly at the loss of contact, only for him to pull the blanket over you and get up off the bed to grab your phones. You watch as he plugs them both into the wall and climbs back into bed before cutting the light off. Cuddling into his chest, your legs intertwine and you both lay there in comfortable silence, until a thought pops into your head, making you laugh a little. "What's so funny?" You think about the situation and explain.

"Had I known it would've taken you stealing my phone from me to get you to put the fangs in, I would've let you take it a long time ago." The two of you laugh and he asks, "Is that your way of telling me you want Mr. Deville to peek his head back in the bedroom again?" He realizes that at some point, he's going to have to tell you that the fangs aren't fake. But that thought leaves his mind as he feels himself getting hard again at your answer "As far as I'm concerned, he can come back anytime he wants." Thomas lets out an "Oh really?" before flipping the two of you so he's sitting between your legs again. "Because I think he's still hungry." A moan leaves your lips as Thomas sinks his cock back into you, and you mentally prepare for the terrible time you're going to have to try and get up in the morning.

[fan-fantasies]

Jealousy and Dreams (part two)

A/N: thank you so much for the fantastic response to the first part! The ending on this one sucks but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Warnings: jealousy, oral (f receiving obvi), fingering, swearing probably

Part one

Rhea was sleeping peacefully when she felt you moving against her. You pressed your ass further into her hips as you squirmed.

“Mm-more,” you mumbled.

Rhea’s eyes shot open.

She looked at you sleeping next to her, a small sheen of sweat covering you.

“Please,” you whimpered. She looked over to Damian in a panic, not wanting him to hear you. But he was a heavy sleeper and didn’t even stir.

Rhea wasn’t sure if she should wake you or just let you…finish. She placed a hand on your shoulder with every intention of giving you a gentle shake.

“Oh Rhea,” you sighed.

She froze.

She definitely couldn’t wake you now; that would be too awkward. Or would it? You wanted her to some extent and she wanted you so maybe it would work in her favor.

Before she could think on it further, Damian let out a loud snore that seemed to scare you out of your dream and back into a deep sleep.

Rhea just laid there, staring at the ceiling with a smile on her face.

Morning came much to soon and you woke up feeling hot, thanks to the Australian beekcake that was pressed up against you, holding you tightly against her.

You were sure your heart pounding in your chest would wake her.

You stirred a little trying to get more comfortable, but Damian was already awake and once he saw you were too, he clapped his hands together loudly.

“Finally!” He yelled.

“Why are you still here?” Rhea groaned, rubbing her eyes. She was hoping for some privacy this morning.

“Because we’re getting breakfast before the flight. Let’s go, ya lazy bums,” he chuckled. Why did he have to be such a morning person?

“Good morning,” Rhea said to you, shooting you a smile.

“Morning; how’d you sleep?” You asked, sliding from the bed to get ready for the day.

“Ya know, I actually had the craziest dream with you in it,” Rhea told you, waiting for your reaction. You paused, waiting for her to continue.

“What was it about?” You asked hesitantly, your own dream flashing back into your mind. She got out of bed and stood behind you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she whispered in your ear before laughing. She sauntered into the bathroom, leaving you flustered. What has gotten into that woman?

You met up with some other folks to grab breakfast before a quick flight. They could all tell you were on edge about something and Rhea made sure to stick to you like glue which definitely wasn’t helping the situation. You felt like you were going to explode.

“You okay, gorgeous?” Rhea asked, plopping down into the seat next to you on the flight.

“I thought Finn was sitting with me this time?”

“He asked to switch, is that okay?”

“Oh yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t it be?” You laughed nervously.

“Just wanted to make sure,” she said, giving your thigh a squeeze. You thought she’d remove it once she was done, but she left it there which had your heart racing.

Thankfully the flight was a short one and the drive to the venue for the live show was even quicker.

For live shows, you got to do your own hair and makeup so you did something simple You liked the live shows; there was less pressure and there could be more fan interaction. You’d usually chat with the fans sitting behind your chair and tonight’s crowd was particularly chatty.

You could tell the young man behind you was attempting to flirt with you. You did your best to remain friendly and professional. He wasn’t bad looking and was actually quite funny, but there was only one person on your mind.

And that person also noticed that your new friend was flirting with you. She had her own match against Natalya and she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you. Every time she saw the man lean over and say something to you, making you smile, she’d slam Nattie a little harder.

The assault was short, Rhea pinning her in her favorite style all while maintaining eye contact with you. Heat rushed to your face as you announced her as the winner. She blew you a kiss which you pretended to catch.

Rhea remained ringside for the next match which was Dom versus Ali. She did her best to focus on the match but she couldn’t help but watch as the man behind you wouldn’t leave you alone. Finally, having enough, she stomped over and grabbed your chair.

“Back off, she’s Mami’s girl,” she snapped, lifting you and your chair and moving you away from him.

“Rhea,” you shrieked as she finally set you down.

“Stay put, sweetheart,” she whispered, leaning down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. The crowd was whooping and hollering at her display. You certainly didn’t mind, you just couldn’t tell if it was all for show or not.

Dom ended up winning his match and thankfully it was the final one. You had a lot of feelings to sort through and you didn’t feel like doing it in front of thousands of people.

You went backstage to grab your stuff but ran into Damian before you could reach it.

“Hey! Great job tonight,” he complimented.

“Thank you! I’m exhausted though so I’m gonna go grab my stuff and find a ride to the hotel.”

He turned around and grabbed something from behind him. He turned back around, already holding your stuff.

“I saw it sitting there and figured I’d bring it to you,” he said.

“Oh my god, thank you! You’re a life saver,” you sighed happily, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Do you wanna share a ride back to the hotel? I have one on the way,” he offered.

Before you could answer, you were being lifted off the ground and hauled away.

“She already has a ride!” Rhea called behind her as she carried you off toward the locker room.

“Rhea! Put me down!”

“No, because the second I do, you’re gonna run off and find someone else to flirt with,” she snapped.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. She finally put you down when you got to the empty locker room, most people already on their way to their hotel.

“Damian, Sonya, that random ass guy in the crowd. I swear, you flirt with everyone but me!” She admitted.

“Do you…want me to flirt with you?”

“I’d just like it if you wouldn’t flirt with everyone else.”

“First off, I don’t even know how to flirt. Second, I haven’t been flirting with anyone! And third, even if I was, what’s it matter to anyone else?” You asked. She took a long step toward you, backing you against the wall.

“It matters because you’re mine,” she growled.

“Says who?” You challenged. She thought for a moment before smirking.

“Says you, in your sleep actually. Moaning my name like the desperate little thing you are,” she chuckled. She ran a finger down your cheek and down your neck, making you shiver.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? So you’re telling me you haven’t been dreaming about me the last few nights? Tell me, what was I doing to you in those dreams?” She said, leaning in closer.

“Time to go, ladies! Cars are here!” Someone yelled into the locker room. Rhea’s intense stare never left you as she backed away.

“Ride’s here,” she smirked.

Rhea insisted on sitting next to you and it made you feel like your skin was on fire. She knew about the dreams and she was toying with you, you just didn’t know how far she was planning on going with it.

You couldn’t possibly tell her your fantasies. But what if she could make them come true?

“You look like you’re gonna think yourself into a spiral. Calm down, gorgeous,” she said, grabbing your hands that were fidgeting in your lap. “We’re almost there.”

“Yeah that’s the problem,” you mumbled.

“What was that?” She asked.

“Nothing.”

“No speak up. Do I make you nervous?” She asked, leaning in closer.

“No.” You refused to make eye contact with her so she lifted your chin.

“Don’t lie to me. Do. I. Make. You. Nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Do I make your heart race?” She placed a soft kiss on your cheek, quickly pressing another one just below your ear.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, now you know how you make me feel,” she said, pulling away, but still holding your hand.

The driver parked in front of the hotel and you quickly got out, pulling your things from the trunk. Rhea grabbed your bag and carried it with her own which you were grateful for and it was a momentary break from all that had been happening. This was still your sweet Rhea who you cared for, she was just a bit more intimidating now.

She grabbed the key from front desk and led you to the elevator. The tension could be cut with a spoon. Neither of you said anything; you didn’t even know what to say if you wanted to.

You knew what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her to ravage you and make all of your dreams come true. You couldn’t ignore the aching between your legs any longer. You needed relief and you hoped Rhea wasn’t just teasing and would actually deliver.

Once in your room, you placed your things down and paused for a moment, just to take a deep breath. When you turned around, you jumped slightly, not expecting Rhea to be right behind you.

Before you could say anything, she pulled you closer and pressed her lips to yours. Her tongue swiped your bottom lip before you granted her access to your mouth.

“It drives me insane when I have to watch everyone flirt with you,” she said, easily lifting you up and carrying you to the bed. “Everyone needs to know you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I swear,” you moaned as Rhea left love bites across your neck. The makeup department was going to hate you after this.

“Tell me about your dreams,” she said, her hands roaming every inch of your body.

“Fuck, it was kinda like this, except with less clothes.”

“I can fix that,” she smirked. She grabbed your top and lifted it over your head. Hers was next to follow as you shimmied out of your pants. “Then what?”

“You went down on me and after you made me cum, you rode my face,” you admitted, too much in the moment to care.

“Is that so? You want me to sit on that pretty face?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“All in due time,” she chuckled.

She slid your panties down your legs, leaving you bare in front of her. She kissed her way down your body, licking and biting every inch that she could.

She bit particularly hard on your thigh, making you yelp. She just chuckled as she looked up at you through her lashes.

“I hope you’re ready, baby.”

Her head dove straight down to where you had been craving her the most. Her tongue ring nudged your clit just right, making you jump with pleasure. She teased your entrance before dipping her tongue in, fucking you quickly with it.

She picked up speed as she circled your clit, making you throw your head back against the pillows. She stopped her motions causing you to whine.

“Look at me, baby. I wanna see you come undone,” she demanded.

You did your best to look at her, focusing on the pleasure she was giving you. She slid a finger through your folds before plunging into you. She quickly added a second one, thrusting them into you and hitting your spot just right. Her tongue resumed its assault on your clit and it all became too much.

You reached out and grabbed a hold of her hair, holding her in place while you moved your hips to meet the movements of her fingers. You quickly reached your peak, riding your orgasm out against her tongue. She couldn’t help but moan at the taste of you cumming.

“Mami’s turn,” she said, looking at you with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

She removed her pants and underwear quickly before climbing on top of you. You made yourself comfortable as she lowered herself onto your face. She held the headboard to steady herself and began to rock herself back and forth, your tongue happily lapping at her pussy.

The noises falling from her lips were sinful; you could listen to them forever. You did your best to keep your tongue steady against her clit as she fucked your face.

She tasted divine and you knew you could never go back to being just friends after this. You were going to crave her day and night, as if you hadn’t before.

“Fuck, just like that baby. Gonna make Mami cum,” she sighed happily. Her movements sped up until she was using you for her pleasure and you loved every minute of it. Her grip on the headboard tightened before she was cumming on your face. Your name was said like a prayer as she finally came down from her high.

She removed herself from above you and quickly pulled you in for a kiss full of tongue and teeth. She finally slowed down a bit so the two of you could catch your breath.

“Just in case it wasn’t clear, you’re mine now,” she growled, giving you one more slow kiss.

“I promise I’m all yours.”

“So did I make your dreams come true?” She chuckled.

“I think the real thing was even better,” you laughed.

“Just think? Hm, sounds like I didn’t do a good enough job,” she said, making her way down your body once more.

“Rhea, what-“ you were cut off by your own moan as she pushed your legs apart and began eating you out like a starved man once more.

“Just lay back and enjoy, baby. This whole hotel is gonna know who you belong to by the time I’m done with you.”

[tightjeansjavi]

The Menu | Part 4

“splinters in his knuckles bangin’ on your door”

A/N: remember that meme I posted earlier about how this was supposed to just be a silly little smut fic? Yeahhh about that..🥴

~word count: 6.3k~

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel goes a little berserk after he doesn’t see you for almost an entire day.

Warnings: SA (not by Joel, not described in detail) implied prostitution, abuse of power/abuse by law enforcement, (FEDRA) unhealthy trauma response, degrading language, mentions of guns, threats, injures from punching a door, mentions of blood, removing splinters, dark!joel, mean!joel, protective!joel, is shit at communicating his feelings!joel, asshole!joel, FEDRA SUCKS, no smut, denial of feelings, stalking, possession, morally gray relationship to the reader, (they’re kinda toxic but it’s complicated) hurt feelings, angst, some fluff, age gap, (Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her late 20’s) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

Joel Miller cracked under the pressure when almost an entire day went by without a lick of your presence. Cracking under the pressure was..a severe misjudgment. All rationale was thrown out the door; he had gone completely balls to the wall insane.

It started in the morning when you didn’t show up to your ‘job’ where you and Joel would spend grueling hours dumping deceased infected. Of course, everyone around him could give less of a shit about your absence. And why should they care? It was a dog eat dog world in the QZ. Every man for himself. To Joel? This was a real problem. A thorn in his side because, well, frankly? You might have meant more to him than just a vice to fill a void. Or a warm body to stick his dick in. Maybe he had reluctantly grown to care for you in his own Joel way.

So, when he found himself in line for his ration cards, his eyes zoned in on the FEDRA officer you fucked out of spite. The same one who did business at Joel’s table while Joel’s fingers fucked you to ruin. He had to start somewhere, right?

“Y’got a minute?” Joel asked casually as he shoved his ration cards into the pocket of his jeans.

“Shoot.” Benjamin, better known as Benji, what the fuck kinda name is that.

“Y’seen Angel around this mornin?’ She’s usually out here with me. Didn’t show up.”

“Nope.” Benji responded smoothly.

Joel’s brow raised as he studied the other man’s face intently. He was looking for any clues, any indication that maybe this Benji fellow had something to do with your bizarre absence.

“Right. Well, if ya see her, tell ‘er Joel’s lookin’ for her.” He shoved his hands deep into his jean pockets.

If Benji was good for anything, it was ratting QZ folks out. So, maybe he did know where you were. He had no viable reason to tell Joel shit. In fact, he was the main reason for your absence. Not only did he catch you out past curfew, but with a handful of contraband that could have easily gotten you a week in lockup. He showed you just a smidge of mercy simply for the fact that you offered him a blowjob just to keep your ass off the line, and only in lockup for one single day.

Joel had no business knowing that, of course.

“Well, well, well. Whad’we have here?” Benji stepped out from the shadows of the darkly lit alleyway as a FEDRA patrol vehicle drove by.

“One hour past curfew, Angel. That’s a deduction of cards, and a night in lockup.” He tsked.

Your face scrunched inwards, as if you had tasted something pungent and sour. “Benji? Fuck. C’mon, man. Just let me pass on through. It’ll be like I was never here.” You thought you were being fairly reasonable especially since he did a lot of business with Joel. You thought that maybe you could get yourself off the hook easily.

“Can’t do that, Angel.” He sighed.

“My name is not Angel. And yes, you can. Just pretend that you never saw me.”

“Oh.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his concealed handgun. “So, I guess buddy boy can call you Angel, but I can’t?”

For fuck sakes.

“Christ, is that what this is about? Who has the bigger dick? What, are you jealous or somethin?’” You egged him on as you reached for your own concealed gun before an unpleasant chill ran down your spine from the familiar clicking sound of the revolver.

“Jealous? Now, why would I be jealous, Angel? Ain’t you just a common street whore? You’ll let anyone stick their dick in ya if they pay well. Ah, but you got that Joel Miller wrapped around your pretty little finger. Everyone ‘round here knows he’s your guard dog. Where is he now, hm?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Look, Benji, you’re a good lookin’ guy and all that, but I fucked you out of spite. I’ll stroke your ego or whatever, but can I please just fuckin’ go home now?” You were exhausted from the grueling day. Your feet ached, your whole body felt like a bunch of pins and needles were stabbing it all at once. All you wanted was to go home, pour yourself a stiff glass, and have a smoke. Was it really too much to ask?

“Turn around. Hands against the wall. No sudden movements.” He ignored every word that left your mouth as if it meant nothing as if you truly were just a whore. For the first time in a long time, you felt dirty. Like something that was disposable. A toy that was no longer shiny and new, but dull and tattered. It made your blood boil.

“Benji—is that really necessary?” You tried to reason with him, but your attempts were fruitless.

“I said turn the fuck around and put your hands against the goddamn wall. Don’t make me ask you a third time, Angel. I ain’t have all night.” His jaw ticked impatiently.

“Okay. Okay. You don’t have to ask me again.” You reluctantly turned around with your hands above your head before placing your palms flat against the brick wall. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, slicing the skin open from the pressure as you tasted copper along your tongue when he yanked you back by the hips as if he owned them.

“That’s right. Because that Joel Miller sure turned you into an obedient little cockslut, didn’t he?” Benji chuckled deeply against the shell of your ear. His hot breath on your skin sent a wave of nausea crawling up your throat.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, Benji.” You hissed through your gritted teeth as he began to forcefully pat you down. You thought about trying to escape, but decided that would have been fucking reckless to even try.

“Oh, now what do we have here?” He said rather gleefully as he pulled out a baggy of pills. The same baggy of pills that Joel gave to you the night before to deliver to a client.

“Those aren’t mine.” Well, that was dumb.

“No? Hmm. You’re not good at this whole lyin’ game, Angel. Let’s see what else we got here.” He pulled out your gun from the belt loop of your jeans along with tinfoil wrapped cigarettes; fresh ones that Joel had rolled you.

“Well, my dear, you’re lookin’ at about a week in lockup just from this alone. Unless..” he trailed off knowing exactly what you’d offer him in return.

“You’re sick, y’know that?” You scoffed under your breath. Men really did only ever think with their dicks.

“Jus’ doin’ my job, Angel. So, what’re you gonna offer me, hmm? Make it good and I’ll only throw you in there for a day. Sounds fair?”

“Right. Your job at bein’ a fuckin’ rat? I’ll give you a blowie, right here, right now. I think that seems pretty fair, don’t you?” The sooner this is over, the sooner I get to go home.

“Hm.” He pondered it for a moment, as if he really had to think hard on your offer. “Deal. But I want you to act enthusiastic this time, and take your tits out. I’m gonna paint them and your face in my come, and you’re gonna sit there and fuckin’ take it, and if you don’t?” He flipped you around swiftly, caging you against the wall as he brought the barrel of the gun right against your temple, “I’ll spray your brains out right against this fuckin’ wall.”

This wasn’t the first time you had been threatened by a man in the QZ, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the all too real gun being pressed against your forehead was alarming, and your brain went into compliance mode in an instant. Truthfully, you didn’t want to die, and certainly not in a manner such as this.

All you could think about as you slowly sank down to your knees, and as the pavement nipped at your exposed skin, was that Joel would never do something like this to you.

“Sure, you’ll be the first to know if I’ve seen her, Miller.” He nodded.

Something about Benji, and his stupid face, sent Joel’s hackles rising. But before he could even mutter a reply, Benji was walking away towards the other FEDRA officers.

Joel shook his head while he flipped through his ration cards for the day. He was doing his best to block out all the possible scenarios of your disappearance, but he failed miserably when he realized there was a high possibility that you were either dead, or infected. It happened more often than people would think.

The real start of his manhunt began after he confided in Tess in the utmost Joel fashion. He found himself pacing the length of his apartment while all she could do was watch from the entryway in the kitchen. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she leaned back against the countertop. Her eyes trailed after his frantic movements.

“Look, before you go thinkin’ about doin’ somethin’ reckless, did you ever stop to think that maybe she’s just in her apartment? She could have slept in—”

He cut her off sharply with a quick shake of his head. “Sleepin’ in? Really, is that all Y’got for me, Tess? I knew she should have just fuckin’ spent the night. She’s so goddamn stubborn. I would have even slept on the couch and she could have taken the bed if it was such a big deal. She’s so hot’n cold!” He growled frustratingly. His hands moved upwards towards his head as his fingers tangled through his hair, yanking at the roots till he was feeling a splice of pain. “Or, better yet, I should have just walked her home myself!”

“Texas, you’re actin’ fuckin’ insane right now! Pacin’ the goddamn apartment like a dog. Ripping your hair out?!” Just calm the fuck down for a second. Take some deep breaths, have a smoke or somethin’ and then let’s both think rationally.” She tried to reason with him. All this got her in return was a narrowed glare, a scoff and an eye roll.

“She could be fuckin’ dead, Tess! What if somethin’ happened between her leavin’ here last night and walkin’ back to her place?”

“I highly doubt she’s dead. And if she was, we would have heard about it by now, Joel. Do you want me to help you look for her? Cause I can start askin’ around.” She pushed herself off the side of the counter just as his pacing came to a complete standstill.

“Sure, yeah. Go ahead and ask around. But, before you do that, I need ya to tell me where Angel lives. I’m aware that you know, and that she doesn’t want me to know, but you’re gonna tell me either way.” He stated as a matter of factly.

“Joel, she doesn’t want you knowing where she lives for obvious reasons. How about you stay here, and I’ll go to her apartment. Like I said, I’m sure she’s just fine.”

“Yeah? Well, those reasons are irrelevant as of right now. So, quit your little girl code you got goin’ on with her or whatever, and tell me where the fuck her apartment is.”

Tess didn’t even bother to argue. She knew Joel long enough to know that he wasn’t going to stop until he found that you were safe. Otherwise, the unknown and the ‘what ifs’ would eat him alive, literally.

“You’re fuckin’ relentless, Texas. Y’know that?” She pulled out her own personal map of the QZ before laying it out on the worn down kitchen table. She pointed to your exact apartment building. “She’s on the third floor at the very end of the hall.”

“Yep. You damn right I am, Tess. You know me too well.” He merely glanced down at the spot on the map where Tess was pointing at before he snatched up the parchment, folding it neatly and tucked it into his back pocket.

“I’ll be needing that back, Texas.” Tess reminded him.

“And I’ll be bringin’ it right back as soon as I find her.” Joel responded smoothly, dripping in confidence to mask his true nature. Just like those women he used to sleep with, he could put up a facade with just a snap of his fingers.

“Yeah, well, you’re losin’ daylight. Better go find that Angel of yours.”

“Better me than anyone else.” Joel added with a curt nod. He left the apartment in a rush, skipping a few steps down the stairs. He never handled change of any kind all that well. Especially when you had become a constant in his life while living in this shit hole place. If something had happened to you, Joel would force himself to take all the blame. He felt responsible for you in some capacity.

“Swear to god when I find this girl..” he muttered to himself, shaking his head while slipping past the front door of the apartment building. Evening was steadfast on the horizon; he needed to move fast.

Was it something I said last night?

Was it because I asked her to stay?

Was it the goddamn strap on??

Is she avoiding me on purpose?

Is she dead?

Did she fuckin’ get infected?

Did..she find someone else?

These thoughts and more were swirling through his frantic brain. He fucking hated the fear of the unknown. Absolutely despised the whole entire notion of its existence. He’d much prefer when things were yanked off like a bandaid. Quick and mostly painless.

He triple checked Tess’s map the entire trek to your apartment building. He had no time to fuck this up, and to the passerby he probably looked like a crazed man; which would be an accurate statement given the circumstances.

Your apartment building was nearly an exact replica of his own. Same shitty staircase, peeling wallpaper, the occasional cry of an infant, or scream of a child. Just the day-to-day sounds of the QZ that we’re all white noise to Joel.

When he found himself standing outside your door, he scoffed at the faded “Welcome :)” mat outside of your door beneath his boots. The smiley face had nearly rubbed off entirely, and he wondered if the mat had been there by your doing, or the previous inhabitants.

Focus, Joel.

He pressed the side of his head against the outside of the door, falling silent as he listened with his good ear for any movements on the other side.

Nothing.

“Angel? Y’in there, doll?” He asked through the thin wood.

Silence.

“Look, I’m sorry if I said somethin’ to upset you last night, but I haven’t seen you all fuckin’ day, and I’m real worried that somethin’ bad happened to ya. So, if you’re in there, can you please say something?”

Nothing.

“Okay. Okay, so maybe I do deserve the silent treatment after I made you hold my cock in your mouth like a cum bucket whore, but it was uh—out of affection? And if you’re upset that I asked ya to stay the night, then I’m sorry. It was just late and I wanted to—”

This is fucking stupid.

“Can you fuckin’ answer me, please? Just fuckin’ say something!” He growled, throwing his fists against the door once for good measure. “I’m about five seconds away from lookin’ like a complete and utter psychopath if you don’t open this goddamn door!” His frustration was on the cusp of boiling over, like a kettle on the stove.

“Okay, so we’re gonna play the silent game, huh?! I swear to god, Angel. If you’re behind this goddamn door and you’re ignoring me on purpose?! Good god, girl. You got another thing comin’ for ya!” He laughed, one of those unfriendly, chills down the spine, oh shit! I’m fucked kinda laughs.

Joel Miller had completely lost all remaining shreds of rationale.

“I’m gonna give you to the count of five to open this fuckin’ door, y’hear me?!” He snarled threateningly.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

He didn’t even get to two before his fists absolutely began to rain down on your doorframe. The cord had snapped and he was fully spiraling without giving a damn of who could see or hear him.

With adrenaline, rage, and fear pumping through his veins, he couldn’t even feel the skin along his knuckles being absolutely torn to shreds from how hard he was laying his fists into the wood.

It's like he had completely blacked out and all he could see was red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

Benji was ‘generous’ enough to let you out of being in lockup early and sent you right back out onto the streets. Ridden with exhaustion, you practically dragged yourself back to your apartment with only the thought of a stiff drink and your bed bringing you some form of motivation to keep going.

Your keys jingled in your grasp while you trudged up the stairs. You were oh so close to just plopping down in the hallway, but your apartment was only just down the hall. You could make it.

You passed by one of your neighbors on your way. And when you went to wave, they completely avoided making eye contact with you at all costs. Somehow you just knew that Joel was involved in this behavior, but how the hell did he know where you lived?

Then, you heard the sounds of banshee yelling intensifying the closer you drew to your door.

Jesus fucking Christ. Can’t a girl catch a break?

When you turned the corner, you were met with a grizzly bear of a man. Joel Miller had nearly beaten your door in with just his bare fists. You weren’t even all that shocked to see him outside of your apartment, but, nonetheless, you were pissed.

You leaned against the corner of the hallway, arms crossed against your chest and a displeased, yet mildly amused look plastered on your face.

“Joel?”

He whipped around in an instant at the familiar sound of your voice. His eyes were wide, nostrils flared, blood dripping down between the ridges of his knuckles, staining the already faded carpet crimson beneath his boots.

He looked crazy.

“Where in the fuck have you been? Do you know how fuckin’ worried I’ve been all goddamn day?! Huh, sweet girl? Do you have any idea—”

“You’re bleeding, sweet boy.” You mumble softly. You had hoped that you could advert his attention, but he was already stalking towards you, something indescribable flashes in his eyes when you call him, ‘sweet boy.’

“Yeah, baby.” He huffs out a raspy laugh. “I’ve got splinters in my knuckles bangin’ on your door. Tore ‘em all up.”

He’s so close now that you can taste his breath and see that flicker of fear in his eyes. His hands encaged around your face. Soft, wet from the blood, but gentle.

Droplets of blood trail down your neck and down the clavicle between your covered breasts. You shouldn’t be turned on—but that cunt of yours has a mind of her own, sometimes.

“Joel, you didn’t have to show up here like a crazy man and nearly go and break down my door.”

He glares, bloodstained thumb swiping across your lower lip. “Don’t tell me what I did and didn’t have to do, Angel. Haven’t seen you all day. Thought you were fuckin’ dead or somethin.’”

“Yeah, well, I’m not dead. I’m right here. Why the hell did you even care in the first place, huh? Can’t even go one day without losing your cool?” It’s your turn to challenge him now. You place your palms flat on his chest, giving him a firm shove.

He glared, eyes narrowing into slits. His head cocked to the side in a condescending manner. His jaw clenched and unclenched. He dropped his hands from your face only to then encage your wrists above your head. He used his sheer mass to press your back directly against the hallway wall. He loomed over you to appear more menacing, like a predator going in for the kill. “Who said anythin’ about me caring, huh? Is that why you think I’m here, Angel? Cus’ I care?” He questioned, pushing you further into the wall. His chest was pressed right against yours, leaving you no room to escape, let alone breathe.

“Why would I give a damn where my whore on stilts wandered off to? Y’think you mean anythin’ to me other than a hole to fuck? Don’t be so naive.” He scoffed.

“You have got to be the worst fuckin’ liar, Joel. Right. You don’t care. You just happened to track down where I live, proceeded to bust down my door, just because I’m a hole for you to fuck? Right. Keep on telling yourself that, buddy boy. Keep livin’ in your delusions. See how far that gets ya.” You held in your laugh from slipping past. Could he not see that you were exhausted? You had been beaten down enough as it was, you didn’t need Joel fucking Miller pushing you down further.

“That’s it? That’s all y’can say to me? No bite back? No fuck you Joel? What the hell happened to you, huh?” He pressed further, tightening his hold around your wrists. “What happened after you left my place last night, Angel?” His tone was much softer now, gentle, laced with concern.

You couldn’t keep up with his mood swings if you tried. Joel Miller was one hot and cold man.

“No. We are not about to do this again. Not when in one breath you’re a complete asshole, and the next?!” You laughed bitterly. “Joel, I’m fuckin’ exhausted, okay? I had a shit night, and I just want to go and have a stiff drink. If you want to join, then be my guest, but I won’t take another minute of your bitching. Y’got that?”

Joel found himself studying your face. He thought that maybe he could read between the lines and figure out exactly why you were so exhausted, but you weren’t budging, not even for him. What was that bit about him fucking hating the fear of the unknown? Oh, yeah.

“Angel, look..I’m—”

“Oh, fuck no. You are not about to apologize for that. No. You meant every word, Joel. You don’t get to take that back.” You shook your head in disappointment, breaking your wrists free from his gradually loosening grip before you pulled away entirely.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

You didn’t even wait to see if he would follow you, you could care less if he did, or didn’t. With your keys in hand you unlocked your door, muttering about how it probably wouldn’t lock properly anymore from the damage Joel inflicted on it.

Joel’s fingers twitched at his side. He was silently debating his options. It was pointly obvious that something had happened to you, but he had no right to pry. His footsteps followed yours like a shadow.

“You should probably get your knuckles patched up.” You muttered under your breath while carelessly tossing your keys onto the kitchen counter.

“They’ll be alright. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He replied smoothly and shoved his hands into the deep caverns of the pockets on the front of his worn jeans.

“I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.” You stated plainly. Your back was facing him behind the counter while you grabbed your stashed bottle of whiskey, and two glasses.

He was observing you with a careful eye when you turned around to face him. “Are you offering to patch up my self-inflicted wounds, baby?” He asked in a crackling rasp, like logs on a fire.

“Sure. If that’s how you want to phrase it.” You shrugged before popping the cap off the bottle with your teeth. You poured a generous splash of the amber colored liquor into both glasses. You opted to take a quick swig from the bottle, needing that little bit of relief to kick in sooner, rather than later.

“Why?” He questioned. He reached for the glass, guiding it towards him before he snatched it up in his hand. He took a hefty sip, letting the warmth from the liquor spread through his system like a warm hug.

“Are you really that fuckin’ stupid, Joel?” You wanted to laugh, but it came out more like a strained scoff if anything.

“‘Fraid so, my Angel.” He smirked over the rim of the cloudy glass.

“Guess the apocalypse shrunk men’s already pea sized brains even more.” You muttered with a shake of your head before downing the liquor from your glass in one swift gulp. Your hand wrapped around his thick wrist, and before he could protest, you were dragging him to your bathroom.

“Sit” you commanded with a gesture to the closed toilet seat.

“Look, you really don’t have to do all this, it’s justa—”

You interjected swiftly, giving him a stern glare before grabbing the first aid kit from behind the cabinet door that was barely holding on by the hinges. “Okay, so then leave, Joel.”

His brows furrowed at your response, and his lips pursed tightly. He ultimately decided to plop down on the toilet seat with a huff. “Are you going to tell me where the hell you’ve been all day? Or are you just gonna keep avoidin’ my question?”

“If you’re good, then I’ll tell you. Cause frankly, right now? I’m sick of your shit, Joel. But somehow, some way, my cold cold heart has a shred of kindness left for you.”

He scoffed, resting his head back against the peeling wallpaper. “You’re sick of my shit?”

“Yes. Because you’re a fuckin’ asshole, Joel. How many times am I going to repeat myself? Normal people don’t stalk someone, attempt to break down their door, and then demand to know where they’ve been all day!”

“Oh boy, we’re still on that topic?” He placed his bloodstained hands on his knees and shook his head before he sat back. “So, what would you rather me have done, hmm? Sweetheart, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he gestured with his hands, “it wasn’t like I could fuckin’ call you up! Do you see a phone in sight anywhere? No? Wow, I wonder why! It’s almost like we’re in a fuckin’ apocalypse!” He said with sarcasm dripping with every breath.

And then you threw Joel Miller for a loop when you whipped out a fucking spray bottle and sprayed his snarky ass right in the face!

It didn’t even matter where the hell you found the damn spray bottle in the first place, it was the fact that you had the balls to spray him in the face, not once, but twice when he went to open his mouth. You swore you could see the steam rising from the water droplets on his skin. Like he was an animated bull from those old animated movies. Nostrils flaring red hot flames, smoke billowing from his ears. The tea kettle had reached its boiling point.

On the opposite end of the spray bottle, you saw that very bull with steam spewing. He was flabbergasted, bewildered at your rash decision. “Did you just fuckin’ spray me like I’m a goddamn cat or somethin?!’” His voice boomed like an overhead crack of thunder unleashing its rage in a crescendo.

“I did.”

“And why the hell did you think that you could jus—go’n spray me in the face like that?!”

“You say an awful lot of stupid and hurtful shit to me, Joel Miller. You hurt my feelings, pissed me off, and I’ve just about had it. So, everytime you open that big fuckin’ mouth of yours and say somethin’ mean and stupid, I’m gonna spray you in the face with this.” You waved the spray bottle around for a moment to get your point across.

Displeased, drenched like a damn cat, Joel sent daggers your way with one harsh glare. “Oh, I didn’t realize we were throwin’ a fuckin’ pity party ontop of all of this.” He scoffed.

“Did you not—” you laughed incredulously, “hear a goddamn word I just said? Fine. Well, let me remind you what happens when you’re fuckin’ stupid!” You sprayed him again.

This time he shut up..for now.

“Refreshing.” He mumbled very much like a dog with its tail between its legs.

You set the spray bottle down along the edge of the counter where it was in arm's reach, before you sank down between his spread knees with the first aid kit tucked under your armpit. “Let me see just what kinda damage you’ve done to your beautiful hands, Joel.” Your voice was much softer now compared to moments earlier. At least now you had him tamed and compliant.

“I didn’t break ‘em. Although, if you hadn’t shown up, I probably would have. And they ain’t beautiful, Angel. They’re ugly.” He gruffed out.

“They’re beautiful to me, Joel.” You reached for his hands once they were presented in front of you. The blood had already begun to congeal and dry in some places. “Yeah, you definitely have some splinters in there that are gonna have to come out.”

“Fuck no. Just leave ‘em.” He shook his head.

For the first time in over 24 hours, you smiled. It was really just a slight tug of your lips, but it was there. “Are you afraid of tweezers or somethin?’” You mused.

He scowled at your question and picked a spot on the wall to stare at so he didn’t have to make eye contact. “No.” He grumbled, jaw ticking under the dangling bathroom light.

“You sure about that?” You asked while placing the first aid kit alongside you on the floor. You popped it open, rifling through the different aids before pulling out disinfectant spray and tweezers.

“Crystal.” He confirmed.

“Ookay.” You did your best to hide your little grin while you held the disinfectant spray a few inches above his hands. “This might sting a little.” You softly warned him.

He barely flinched when he felt the sudden coolness from the spray adhering to his open wounds. His nose did twitch the slightest when the stinging sensation settled in.

“You’re being an excellent patient for me, Mr. Miller. Maybe if you’re a good boy for the next part, I’ll reward you with a lollipop.”

He finally looked at you, tearing his gaze from the wallpaper to meet your eyes. His lips curved upwards into a small smirk. “Sounds wonderful, Doctor. Do you promise to be gentle?” He played along.

“Always, Joel.” You replied.

His eyes stayed locked on your own for what felt like hours, neither of you quite ready to break the contact just yet. He cleared his throat, shifting along the closed toilet seat. “Uh, will..you hold my hand? I lied about the tweezer thing. Splinters hurt like a bitch, and uh—yeah.” He muttered under his breath while the heat began to rise rapidly to his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears turned beet red.

“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, Joel.” You nodded reassuringly. Your left hand reached for his own when he had pulled back slightly in a jerking movement. You could sense his palpable hesitation radiating off of him before he finally relaxed.

“This is stupid.” He said suddenly, feeling more bashful as the seconds ticked by.

“It’s not stupid at all, Joel. Splinters are no fun at all.”

I mean, This. Me and you. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be blushing like a schoolgirl right now. And over what? Holding hands? He thought to himself.

He’s kinda sweet..in his own Joel way. You thought silently to yourself.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.

“Get on with it, please.” He nearly whispered when his left hand finally reached towards your own. He was the one to thread his fingers through yours and let your entwined hands rest along his left thigh comfortably.

It took all of twenty minutes for you to successfully remove every splinter from his hands. Some fragmented pieces of wood were a bit deeper than others. He was a real champ, and you surprised him with a kiss. A soft reward that he felt he was undeserving of.

“I think you should let them breathe a bit longer and then we’ll bandage up.” You said while moving to stand back up. Your left hand was still engulfed in his own when he stopped you from standing up.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss them all better, doctor?” He asked with a tilt of his head. He looked like a puppy with his tousled, wild hair, and big brown eyes staring at you.

You found your lips kissing his broken skin before you even had a chance to respond. A kiss was pressed to each knuckle in an affectionate manner.

He broke the silence when your hand departed from his and you busied yourself with putting away the first aid kit.

“Are you going to tell me what happened to you out there, or are we gonna keep dancin’ around the subject?” He asked rather softly. Almost as if he was concerned.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Joel.”

Please don’t ask me again.

“Angel..”

“Let’s go finish our drinks.” You interjected with a hidden fake smile.

His eyes follow your silhouette when you swiftly remove yourself from the small bathroom. He shakes his head with a sigh before he finally stands up. He eyes the spray bottle still resting along the bathroom counter, and in an extremely cat-like fashion, he swiftly knocks it over into the trash bin below.

Good riddance.

When Joel left your bathroom, he soon found you with your feet tucked under your thighs on the far end of the couch. You appeared to be staring off into space while you nursed your glass of whiskey in silence. He really wasn’t quite sure what to think of your behavior, let alone how he should approach you.

Nonetheless he grabbed his own glass and joined you on the couch. Your eyes stayed focused on the wall even when you felt the old cushions dip down from Joel’s weight pressing down on them gradually.

He swirled the contents around in his glass absentmindedly before he took a small sip. You could feel his eyes along the side of your head when he moved the glass to rest between his knees.

“I really wish you would jus’..talk to me, sweetheart.” He rasped softly while he twiddled with his fingers that weren’t wrapped around the glass. He was never really good at having these types of conversations, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try one last time.

You shifted uncomfortably from his words. You didn’t want to tell him what happened to you in that disgusting alley. Or the way that Benji’s touch made you feel nauseous. You didn’t want to tell Joel that you were made to feel like literal human trash. Pond scum, gum beneath men’s shoes. You didn’t want to confess that you spent a night in lockup, crying against the cold concrete till your body could no longer produce tears while Benji, and a few of his FEDRA friends proceeded to violate you further, stripping you of your autonomy and dignity with grime stained fingernails, and cruel laughter. Nothin’ but a common street whore, that one. Make her gag on it. I wanna see tears streaming down those pretty fuckin’ cheeks, boys. Miller ain’t here to save you now, Angel. You belong to us.

You didn’t want Joel to believe that you were this broken, damaged person. You didn’t want him to take pity on you. That was quite literally the last thing you wanted from him. But, you were only human, after all, and pain had a sneaky way of revealing itself even when you had done everything possible to cloak it.

He watched as you drained the contents of your glass wordlessly before you slipped down from the couch, falling to your knees between his thighs.

She loves it, don’t be fooled boys. She loves to be fucked like a dirty little whore. Ain’t that right, Angel? Joel Miller got her all obedient, just for us. She’ll do anythin’ you ask of her.

“Angel.” He started, words lodging in his throat. Something about this felt wrong.

You ignored him, reaching for his belt with trembling fingers as you worked it open.

Cus’ a whore is all you’ll ever be, sweetheart. The best pussy in all of the fuckin’ QZ. Bet he’ll smell me all over ya, Angel. I hope he does. I hope that guard dog can fuckin’ taste my come inside of ya next time he takes you.

Joel finds himself frozen in time when he sees the way your fingers tremble. He’s stunned and unsure what he should do in this situation. He’s never seen you like this before. He’s used to your brashness. Your confidence. Your swift, snarky, sarcastic remarks. The woman on her knees between his thighs is not you. He knows then that he has to stop this. He has to say something.

“Angel, baby. I don’t think we—” he struggles to find the right words to say. To be delicate, but firm. This had nothing to do with his own feelings, and had everything to do with yours. “This doesn’t feel right, sweetheart.”

Your heart sinks to the pits. He knows. He fucking knows. He knows, and thinks you to be worthless, just like the rest of them.

You sink back along your thighs, tears pooling in your eyes. “You don’t..want me anymore, Joel?” You ask above a whisper, holding on by a mangled thread.

He shakes his head slowly, his heart breaking in the process.

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[luvangelbreak]

Deprived | Twenty

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 matthew sturniolo x layla venita (female!oc) summary: everyone knows the story of the bad boy and the good girl but what happens when the school's most popular boy, Matthew Sturniolo, and the girl who notoriously is never there, Layla Venita, cross paths. warnings: swearing, smoking, suggestive? word count: 3.3k a/n: this series has been longer than I anticipated but I'm living for the slow burn so it's gonna be a while till we're done folks.

pov: layla

I spent the next week couped in my room, refusing to leave as I quickly smoked the bag of weed Wes had given me. Allie had messaged me in concern multiple times and I finally built up the courage to reply to her a day after her last message.

Allie <3 Monday hey girl are you okay? matt has been off all day 1:30pm Tuesday if u wanna talk im here <3 5:37pm Wednesday im getting concerned pls message me if u need anything 3:47pm

You sorry just havent been feeling good im okay just need time alone 10:21pm

Allie <3 im sorry :(10:23pm

You its okay i'll be at school tmrw 10:27pm

Allie <3 okay! see ya then <3 10:28pm

I locked my phone and threw it lazily on the bed beside me, rolling over to face the wall where my window was cracked open. I was glad my dad was out tonight, having to deal with him for over a week straight was draining and I felt like it didn't benefit my self-loathing in any way. I sighed as my mind always travelled back to the look on Matt's face, the pure hurt in his eyes that I knew I caused.

Part of me was glad he hadn't messaged or tried to talk to me. It meant that I could push him away if I wanted to. I did just that without even consciously meaning to. I got scared and made it his fault in my brain but as I continued rotting in my bed, I realised I hurt him more than I ever meant to. It wasn't his fault that I was afraid of someone being close, it wasn't his fault that I let something so small set me off. I needed to make him realise it wasn't his fault and I was just not used to the affection and accommodation he offered me daily.

I barely slept over the past week and this night was no different. My alarm went off in the early hours of the morning and I knew I had slept a total of 4 hours from the way my brain had constantly been reeling. I dragged myself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. I took an extra long shower to attempt to rid the disgust I felt towards myself.

After scrubbing my entire body head to toe, I jumped out of the shower and walked to my room. My entire body felt heavy and I felt tears prick my eyes when I looked over to the pink sweater that was still laying over my bag. I picked it up, realising it was the only clean sweater I had since I hadn't been bothered with laundry. I quickly slid it over my head before sliding on my black sweatpants and combat boots. I slid my leather jacket over the top, not bothering with any makeup as I lazily tied my now damp hair into a low ponytail. I grabbed my bag, quickly sprayed on some perfume and grabbed my phone off of my bedside table.

I quickly exited my house without food or water in my stomach and as I began walking down the road, I decided to light one of the last few cigarettes I had pre-rolled. I grabbed my headphones from my bag, slid one into my ear and plugged them into my phone. I clicked shuffle on one of my playlists and I let my feet drag on the asphalt as I slowly made my way down the streets of Massachusetts.

After an hour, I finally arrived in the parking lot of the school and I scanned the cars, my eyes landing where I saw the familiar silver minivan. I paused, letting out a heavy breath as I collected myself and began walking to the group of people in front of the car.

Nate was the first to notice me and he just looked at me with no expression before he turned back to the group. As I got closer I noticed the fact that Mia was standing beside Matt with her head leaned on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her back lazily and I felt a pang of pure jealousy run through me. I tried to shake it off as I got closer, knowing I had no right to be mad about it right now since I was the one who caused the riff between the brown-haired boy and myself.

"Speak of the devil," I heard Nick say when his eyes caught mine and I was a few feet away, standing uncomfortably as I looked between all of them. All of their heads turned to look at me, Allie being the only one who didn't seem like they were looking right through me.

"Matt, can I talk to you?" I asked quietly as I didn't dare to meet his eyes yet and there was an uncomfortable silence that fell over us, "Please."

"About what?" he asked, his tone short and I looked up to see his face completely expressionless but his eyes held such hurt and aggravation that it felt like it cut right through me.

"Last week," I mumbled, ignoring the pain in my chest of seeing Mia looking at me with a slight smirk. I focused in on the boy I had hurt, his blue eyes piercing in the sunlight.

"Now?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off of me and I just looked at him, the judgement of his friends radiating off of them. He sighed heavily before swinging his arm out from around Mia and I felt a weight lifted off of my shoulders but there was still a pressure on my chest, "I'll be back."

I looked at the ground as he pushed away from the hood of the minivan and he walked past me. I followed behind him, not daring to look back at his friends as we walked to the back of the parking lot before he stopped to face me.

He didn't say anything for a moment as I looked up at him and he scanned me head to toe before murmuring, "That's my sweater."

"Yeah. I left it on my bag all week but I didn't have any clean hoodies for today," I explained and he hummed as I picked at the skin around my fingers, my nails too short to bite now that I had been picking at them all week. I nervously chewed on my lip before I said, "I'm sorry."

"It took you a week to say that?" he asked, his voice quiet but his words laced with pain.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I know I reacted to what you said horribly but I just-" I cut myself off as I took a breath and looked down at the gravel below us, "I haven't had anyone take care of me the way you do. It scares me. I'm sorry."

I squeezed my eyes closed, chewing on my bottom lip far more aggressively than I intended but my heart raced as I waited for his response. I felt his hand fall under my chin and he lifted my face to look up at him, noticing now that he was slightly closer to me. He used his thumb to gently pull my lip away from my teeth as I fidgeted with the hem of the pink sweater.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" he asked, his tone softening as he looked down at me and I shrugged dumbly.

"I am bad at talking about that sorta stuff," I answered quietly, my throat closing from the sadness that invaded my body as I looked up at him. I had no right to be upset right now, I was the one who fucked up and made this so difficult, but I felt guilt invade my entire body when I realised I didn't want to push him away. It was habit and I was always bad at breaking them.

"Don't do that again," he demanded softly and I pursed my lips as I pushed my sadness down the best I could as tears sprung to my eyes, "Or I swear to god I won't talk to you again and I don't want to stop talking to you. Ever."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you away. I just don't know how to deal with everything I'm feeling and I know it's shitty but I promise I'm trying. I have no right to be sad right now because this is my fault but I feel so horrible for making you upset. You deserve so much more than that and if I can't give that to you I understand if you don't want me to be around anymore," I rambled out all of my feelings and conflicting voices in my head but I was cut off by his lips on mine.

I paused for a moment to register what was happening before my body melted into his, his arms wrapping around my lower back as I snaked my arms around his neck. I pulled him into me, missing the way his body felt against my own more than I anticipated. It felt like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in my room for the past week with smoke-filled lungs. He gripped my hips, pulling me impossibly closer to him as I tangled my hands in his hair before he pulled away to breathe for a moment.

"You're an idiot," he mumbled before he leaned back in to kiss me gently again.

"I know," I mumbled against his lips and he ran his tongue against my rough lips, the sting of his saliva hitting the open splits on my lips from chewing them. I hissed and pulled away as he looked down at me.

"You need to stop biting your lip," he muttered as his eyes travelled all around my face, "And stop picking your nails. You're not gonna have any left soon."

"I've been stressed the past week. I can't help it," I whispered as I looked up at him in awe. I had forgotten the pure oxytocin that ran through my system when I was with him and I refused to let it go again.

"Pretty girl," he gave me a sympathetic look and I shook my head as I pulled away from his face slightly, my arms still slung over his shoulders.

"Don't feel bad. This was my doing and I will make it up to you," I answered sternly and his face broke into a small smile. I sighed, the weight being lifted off of my chest now and my body tingled with joy.

"All I'm asking is that you talk to me next time," he whispered, leaning down to place a peck on my lips and I let it linger before I pulled back and nodded.

"I will try," I scratched the nape of his neck lightly and he bit his bottom lip as my face dropped, "Don't look at me like that before we have to go inside. I'll drive us back to your house right now."

"I don't see you for a week and you're ready to jump my bones already," he chuckled and I raised my eyebrows.

"How else can I make it up to you, ya know?" I joked as let my mouth form into a smirk and he shook his head as he pursed his lips, "Does this mean I can come to your game this week?"

"Of course baby," he smiled down at me and I felt the butterflies erupt in my stomach again, promising not only him but myself to never let myself ruin this again.

"By the way," I let my right hand trail from his neck to his chest, playing with the necklace that sat comfortably on his collarbones, "Allie's brother was just dropping me home. He tried to flirt with me but I shut it down. I wasn't lying about that."

"I know. I overreacted. I'm sorry about that," he said softly and I shook my head, twiddling the pendant between my fingers as I looked up at him.

"I know how it looked. I would've been just as upset. You don't need to apologise for it," I mumbled, trying hard to convey my feelings as best I could to which he didn't respond verbally. He instead placed another kiss against my lips and smiled against me as he squeezed my hips.

"Matt!" I heard Chris's voice call from only a few feet away and we both broke apart to look over at him, "You guys done? We gotta go to class."

"I forgot about that," I joked and Chris just gave me a deadpanned look as Matt chuckled.

"We'll be there in a sec," he called to his brother who just rolled his eyes and spun around to walk back to his friends, "They're more pissed at you than I was."

"I can tell," I mumbled as I watched their eyes pour directly into me, "Allie messaged me though."

"She was the only one defending you," he told me honestly and I hummed as I looked back up to him, "I'll talk to them."

"Don't sugarcoat it. You can tell them I'm a dumbass who doesn't know how to deal with her emotions," I stated and he shook his head with a smile, placing a kiss on the top of my head before swinging his arm over my shoulders.

"Come on," he said nodding towards the group and I hesitantly began walking with him by my side. Their eyes stayed glued to us as we approached and Mia gave me nothing but a scowl with her arms crossed, "Chill out. We talked about it."

"That didn't seem like talking," Mia spat and I remained silent, letting Matt handle the situation as I looked at Allie who gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Don't Mia," Matt deadpanned and she only scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "We talked about it and I don't wanna hear it."

"Only took you a week," Nate raised his eyebrows as he spoke and he looked at me. I pursed my lips while glancing between them.

"At least it happened," Matt retorted before the bell rang and he sighed, "We'll talk about it later. Let's go."

He began walking with his arm around my shoulder still and I followed suit, Chris moving to stand on the other side of Matt as everyone else followed behind. We made our way to our classes and once we sat down, a weight fell back on my chest.

Not only did I have to make it up to Matt, I had to win back his brothers and his friends.

+++

Pretty boy where did u go?? 12:23pm

You 🚬 be there in a minute 12:24pm

I locked my phone, sliding it into my pocket as I finished off my cigarette, throwing it onto the ground before I wedged it into the ground with my boot. I made my way back inside and straight to the cafeteria where I saw the group of friends sitting together.

"Hey," Allie beamed as she scooted closer to Mia to make space between her and Matt for me to sit. I smiled at her as I swung my legs over the bench and sat down. Matt placed his arm around my lower back as he continued his conversation with Nick.

"I don't want to wear a tie. That's why I got the red shirt," Matt groaned and Nick gave him a deadpanned look.

"It's prom. You're supposed to look fancy with a tie," Nick stated and Matt ran a hand across his face.

"We're all wearing a tie. Don't be a bitch," Nate pointed out and I tuned them out as Allie tapped my shoulder to gain my attention.

"You okay?" she asked quietly and I nodded with a hum.

"Yeah. Thank you for checking on me," I answered in a hushed tone and she shrugged with her sunshine smile that warmed my heart to know she wasn't annoyed with me.

"Of course. That's what friends are for," she said casually before she turned back to listen to the group conversation. I let her words hang over my head like a cloud.

That's what friends are for.

I don't remember the last time I had a genuine friend and her simple words struck me right in my heart. She had always been kind to me and from the moment we talked, she had been such a light in my life. I realised I not only wanted to share my emotions and feelings with Matt but also with Allie to show her that I appreciated her.

I wanted to be better for both of them.

"How long do we have to stay there?" Chris whined as he threw his head onto the table dramatically and Allie rolled her eyes.

"You're acting like you're being held hostage. If you don't wanna go it's fine," Allie responded, her tone quietening at the end and I could sense the slight sadness at Chris's distaste for prom.

"Al, I told you I'm going and I'll stick to that. I just don't wanna be there for five hours," he lifted his head up to look at her and she shrugged, eyes glancing at the table.

"We can leave early and go back to my house," she offered and Chris's mouth broke into a smile as he nodded.

"Works for me," he said triumphantly before sitting up again, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.

"How are we getting there?" Mia asked, looking around at the group and I just sat there in silence, deciding to go along with whatever plan I knew Allie had already set up.

"Meet up at my house at five thirty so we can take photos and make sure we have everything and then we will leave at like six-thirty to get to the hotel," Allie explained the plan and everyone seemed to hum along in agreement. I felt Matt's arm snake further around my back as he scooted closer to me.

"How are we getting there?" Nick asked and Allie smiled as she adjusted her ponytail.

"I got us a limo," she announced happily and Mia showed her first sign of happiness of the day as she squealed excitedly, "You guys won't drink right?"

Matt and his brothers shook their heads with a firm no and Allie turned to look at me and I shrugged, "Depends on what it is."

"Bottle of champagne in the limo?" Mia asked Allie and Allie nodded causing Mia's smile to widen.

"You're dad won't arrest us if we drink?" Nate asked, the half-hearted joke not landing well with Mia as she rolled her eyes.

"Not if he doesn't know," she pointed out with a slight smirk and Nate raised his eyebrows before nodding in agreement.

"Did you find a dress?" Nate asked, turning his attention to me as he attempted to make conversation. I assumed that in the time I'd been in my other classes and was outside Matt had talked to Nate, Chris and Nick since they weren't glaring at me anymore but they still felt slightly standoffish.

"No. I'm just gonna make my own," I explained and he nodded, his smile in a downturned smile.

"Mad impressive that you can do that," he complimented me and I gave him a half-hearted smile as Matt traced circles on my hip with his thumb.

"Thanks. I just hope I can finish it in time," I explained and I could sense Mia's disgust towards me radiating off of her but I was learning to tune her out like I had always done before Matt came into my life.

Suddenly the bell rang for our next classes and everyone began getting up. I stood up from the table before Matt spun me around and kissed my lips gently. I froze for a moment, shocked at the fact he did that in the middle of the cafeteria but I quickly reciprocated the action before he pulled away.

"See you after school pretty girl," he smirked at me before he walked away and I stood still for a moment as I watched him walk away with Nick, Chris, Nate and Mia.

"You guys are so fucking cute it makes me want to throw up," Allie rolled her eyes playfully beside me and I looked around to see people staring at me once again. I pursed my lips, my cheeks tinging red as I hid a smile and shook my head before I began walking out of the cafeteria.

tags:

@dsturniolo @chrisstankyleg @lov3bug @pinklittleflower @thatcrazybitch-69 @trinity2058 @alorsxsturn @chrizznmetswife @ilovechrissturniolo1 @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @sturnfix @lilsstvrn @sturniololol @sturniolowhore @jebbie-project-blog @jaxyy219

[ddarker-dreams]

Hierarchy of Needs.

Daryl Dixon x F Reader.

Notes: originally, i was gonna keep this one between me and my google docs, but it's kinda cute ngl so everyone gets to see it Tags: Not SFW, set at the start of Alexandria era, takes place from Daryl's POV. Word count: 10.5k.

Daryl is a hands-on type of man.

He was never one to dawdle, sitting in one place for too long made him squirm. He swore it could be an allergy or some shit. Gets him all itchy and shifting his weight from foot to foot. The problem is, given the general uncertainty surrounding their current living arrangements, Daryl’s limited on what he can and can’t do. For the first time since the dead started walking, he’s caught up in the invisible net of “social expectations”.

Normally, he wouldn’t give a damn, but this isn’t just about him. This is about Judith getting the nutrients she needs. Carl not having to figure out how many sips of his rapidly diminishing water canteen to take to avoid dehydration. The group that’s come to be his family, in every sense of the word, having a roof over their heads and some peace of mind at night. There’s too much on the line for him to screw this up.

So he’s just got to grin and bear it (without the grinning).

Another particular individual comes to mind — all bright smiles and what seems to him to be the physical embodiment of all that’s good in this decaying world — but he swats the thought away like a pesky gnat. In his heart of hearts, he knows he’s dealing with the uppity bullshit for everyone’s sake, but… maybe there is one person he’s putting in the extra effort for. The person that kept him from glaring at some old folk who were looking at him earlier this morning like he was some escaped convict, the person who he’d kill for if it ever came down to it. Someone he already has killed for.

“Got room for one more?”

Daryl almost jumps out of his skin at the abrupt awakening from his thoughts, though from anyone else’s perspective, it probably just looks like he’s scowling harder. It’s wholly unlike him to not notice someone’s approach, human or otherwise. He’s about to give a grunt of indifference before it clicks in his brain just who is standing before him.

It’s you, the person he’d swear he wasn’t thinking such mushy thoughts about even if someone tried to waterboard the information out of him. He has to blink a few times for your newly freshened-up appearance to sink in. Your skin is clean, not a spec of dirt or grime in sight, the same going for your hair. He can’t remember the last time he’d seen you wear it down. Since the colder months in the prison, maybe? It’s a good look on you. To be fair, he’d think just about anything would look good on you.

One of his shirts, for instance. He can envision it picture it now, clear as day—

He has to stop himself from chasing after that line of thought, recalling with mild embarrassment how he still has yet to answer you.

“Can’t stop ya.”

You roll your eyes at that, giving him a look that screams ‘oh really?’, but take a seat nonetheless. Daryl’s set himself up on the porch of the house the group’s been granted. Given the position of the sun in the sky, he figures it’s about noon now. The shift in time brought a volume change. This morning, he could hear the chatter coming from within like he was in the room, everyone having finally received a proper night’s sleep for the first time in who knows how long. It quieted down when the group dispersed to their newly assigned jobs, or in the case of others, to sightsee.

Daryl takes a long drag of his cigarette while you situate yourself next to him on the porch’s steps. He eyes your outfit from his peripherals, an odd wave of something inexplicable rushing over him at the sight. It’s a nice white blouse with some jeans maybe a size or two too large for you. He can’t help but give his garments a once over. They still show evidence of the rough past few months spent living on the road. Now that he thinks about it, everything about him probably sends that message. He’d yet to take a shower or do so much as clean his face.

Is that why the Alexandrians had been giving him the side eye? Everyone else had practically been tripping over each other at the opportunity to shower, whereas he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d disregarded Carol’s comments about it and would likely do the same if anyone had the balls to bring it up to his face, but for some reason, having you in his general vicinity is making him feel uncharacteristically self-conscious. You’re not looking at him with disgust, or looking at him with anything really, just your trademark smile that made him feel like melting into a pile of happy goo.

“You didn’t feel up to going out and exploring?” You inquire, hugging a knee to your chest. He shakes his head. At this, you scoot closer, excitement radiating from your being. “Want to come check it out with me, then? It feels… weird going places by myself. We’d always pair up in twos at least. I feel like I’m betraying our unspoken buddy system.”

He snorts at that. “Nah, ‘ve seen all I need to already.”

He knows he needs to change the subject before you decide this is a venture worth pursuing. If you gave him those damn doe eyes and asked sweetly enough, he’d do just about anything you asked. Hell, you didn’t even need to do all that for him to almost always cave. This weakness of his went mostly unnoticed to himself (or maybe he didn’t want to acknowledge it), until Merle put two and two together. It didn’t take him long either. He’d asked none too quietly how his little brother ended up pussy-whipped in his absence. Daryl had almost converted when he realized some higher power stopped you from overhearing the comment.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the last smarmy comment about you Merle was destined to make. If anything, that was one of the more forgivable remarks, since the brunt of it was directed at him.

No, the worst had come when Merle had been tasked with taking Michonne to The Governor. It was a regrettable final exchange between brothers all around. Daryl can’t recall exactly how the conversation had shifted to you, or the exact words that led up to that final gut punch, but he can still hear his brother’s mocking voice speak the sentence that’s haunted him ever since.

“You've been so busy drooling over her to realize, so let me spell it out for ya nice and slow. She ain't ever gonna want you the same way you want her. We're freaks to people like that. Nothing but redneck trash. And don’t you ever forget it.”

Daryl inhales deeply, the scent of cheap tobacco mixing with the shampoo you must’ve used. It’s light and sweet. Nothing could fit you better.

“Thought you’d be at the infirmary by now,” Daryl isn’t sure who he’s trying to distract anymore — you, or him. “Got ran off already?”

Your closed-mouth smile falters for a millisecond. Anyone else might not have noticed the nearly imperceptible change, but Daryl’s got a hunter’s eye, not to mention how attuned he is to your every mannerism. He’s ready to shove his personal woes aside if it means making room for yours.

“Well, that’s a way to describe it,” he can tell by your tone that you’re trying to keep the conversation lighthearted. How very like you. “When Deanna interviewed me, I not-so-subtly hinted at everything I had learned from Hershel. Although, to be fair, I talked up everyone from our group. I even defended Eugene’s honor like the man had won a Pulitzer. I would’ve said anything if it meant not getting thrown back out there.”

He nods, listening to your every word as if the secrets to the universe were held within.

“Anyway… I guess my sales pitch went purposefully unnoticed. She did say that she’d let the resident doctor know, but that he was ‘particular’ about how he goes about his practice. I think that’s politician talk for ‘not gonna happen’. She seemed eager to move on from the subject. So, for the time being, we’re both unemployed.”

Daryl has to will himself not to get distracted and laugh at your joke. He knows you don’t like to be ‘a downer’ (your words, not his), which leads you to hide negative sentiments behind that pretty smile. He gets it, because he does the same thing, utilizing a gruff exterior instead of your near-blinding charm.

“‘S stupid. Don’t let it get to ya.”

“Oh, I won’t,” you grin at him genuinely enough. He temporarily reassesses, wondering if he read you wrong, when your shoulders slightly slump. “I just really want this to work. We need this to work. The fact we lasted out there for so long, with a baby, is almost enough to have me asking Gabriel if he can send my regards to the big man in the sky.”

“It’ll work,” he tells you, his tongue working faster than his brain. You give him a hesitant nod. You know just as well as he does that there’s no way to make guarantees like that. Still, when Daryl’s so used to seeing you in bloom, having you wilt beside him hurts. Worse than a knife being twisted in his gut.

“Yeah,” your voice drops to a whisper then. You glance around, as if checking for prying eyes and ears, then continue when satisfied there are none. “I hope everyone else thinks so too. Rick looks to me like he's been thinking 'Viva La Vida' ever since we first set foot inside.”

Daryl searches the recesses of his brain to grasp at what your vague term means, squinting while he does so. He thinks he may have heard it in a history class at some point, in between playing hooky. Sensing his confusion, you elaborate, but not without throwing in a shitty French accent that has no business sounding as cute as it does.

“Révolution.”

You’re more perceptive than you let on, aren’t you? He wonders if Carol has been taking notes, considering the friendly-totally-not-threatening-cookie-and-casserole-making façade she’s recently adopted. He supposes it’s a bit different. You don’t actively hide your strengths, but you don’t go around advertising them either.

It was one of the first things Daryl noticed about you. In truth, he hadn’t given you much thought when he initially met you back on the side of the highway in Atlanta. He mentally categorized you as some city girl who’d probably complain about how the mosquitos are constantly biting or whatever. While you did express your fair share of disdain over the bloodsucking bugs, it was more of an icebreaker than anything. A way to loosen people up. Lighten the spirits when things got too heavy.

You were the opposite of Daryl in that way, a bonafide people magnet. He hadn’t given this quality of yours enough credit until he saw you bring a smile to Carl’s face soon after his mom’s tragic death. Then there was the way you cared for the people he found out on the road back in the prison days. They were often understandably closed off, disbelieving of the security the chain link fences supposedly provided. You made it a point to help bring them into the fold. No one asked you to, you just did it, because that’s the type of person you are.

Daryl brought people in, you made them feel at home. He cherished that little connection he had with you. It made him feel warm and fuzzy, like he’d downed enough liquor to feel buzzed without getting drunk. Everything about you was similarly stupefying and addicting.

When the prison fell, he thought all possibilities of restoring that connection fell with it. A silly thing to mourn, but he mourned it nonetheless, another line on a seemingly infinite list. Maybe… maybe it doesn’t have to be a figment of the past. If this place, Alexandria, is where your group decides to kick up their feet, he could start recruiting again. Look forward to seeing how you run over to greet the fresh faces upon hearing of his return.

It’s a nice thought. He’ll have to see if reality is anywhere near as kind.

“Rick’s just wary, ‘s all. Hard not to be. Y’know how it was out there. What we saw.”

“… Yeah,” you shift in your seat. “Well, at least these folks didn’t break out the salt and pepper when we walked through the gates.”

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

He can’t stop a single chuckle from slipping out, though he still cringes at the Terminus callback.

“Heard they got a shrink somewhere ‘round here. Might wanna look into that.”

“Hey, I said I’m trying to make this work, not end up in a Hannibal Lecter getup.”

You and your damn movie references. At least he’s familiar with this one. Sometimes he swore you and Eugene were speaking in another language when you two got on the topic of entertainment. Not being able to share that interest with you made him feel a certain way — a real shitty way.

“You’re the last one of us they’d throw out,” Daryl muses. You tilt your head at that, furrowing your eyebrows like when he’d first recounted the chupacabra story. He decides not to expand on the subject; it has too many of his feelings intertwined. Not worth the risk. “Unless they catch wind of your shitty sense of humor. Can’t say what’d happen then.”

You place a hand to your chest in faux indignation. “Well, Dixon, you laugh at my ‘shitty sense of humor’ more often than you don’t, so what does that say about you?”

A lot of things he can’t bring himself to admit out loud, mostly.

You give him a playful punch in the shoulder when he doesn’t dignify you with a response. The touch is so innocent, a mere brush of your knuckles against his skin, yet it throws his mind into temporary disarray. The effect you have on him could be subject to study; it’s as if every nerve in his body is set on fire. He feels warm, from his face to the tip of his ears. Then that heat drifts steadily downward. It’s then that he becomes fully aware of how close you are. How he can see your collarbones, and if he tilts his head at just the right angle, the start of some cleavage.

It’s got to be wrong, how much he desires you. The ways he desires you. It makes him feel ickier than the months without a proper shower ever could. You’re so bright, so kind, so good, he shouldn’t be lusting after you like some boy whose voice hasn’t broken yet. You trust him, he knows you do. He’s overheard you go so far as to call him one of your closest friends. Considering the far better options you have out there, he should feel blessed you even give him that much. Wanting anything more than that isn’t just greedy, it’s downright risky.

Daryl would never forgive himself if he made you the slightest bit uncomfortable, he’s given people shit for less. Someone could look in your general direction for too long and he’d start glaring.

Right when he starts willing himself to pull his head out of the gutter, you go to tie your hair up, effectively shutting any possibility of him doing that down. Your chest arches forward at the movement and he’s treated to a lovely view of your neck. You must sense the heavy way he’s staring at you, for you turn your head towards him. He doesn’t make the situation any better by shifting his attention ahead fast enough to almost give him whiplash.

“Are you planning on coming to that welcoming party tonight?”

Daryl has to bite back a groan at this topic of conversation. Why is everyone so damn interested in his attendance to some yuppie soiree? He knows that if the request is coming from you, it’ll steadily break his resolve down.

His facial expressions must have betrayed his thoughts, for you laugh. “I didn’t think so. I can’t blame you. I’m actually planning on bailing at the first opportunity I get.”

He raises an eyebrow at this. “Really? Can’t believe ’m hearing that from Miss Social Butterfly.”

“I think I’m more of a social caterpillar for the time being. It’s just, uh, a lot. I’m pretty sure Rick wants to put me on display as some sort of standup citizen like back on the farm. That I could handle. This, I’m not so sure. I don’t know the first thing about croquet. I feel like I’m lowering the GDP just by being in the general vicinity.”

He has to stop himself from gawking. He can’t fathom why you of all people would feel this way. That elderly couple who was staring him down probably would’ve fawned over you, pinched your cheeks and welcomed you in for quinoa. He’s about to voice this when your comment about the farm catches his attention more.

“The hell’d he have you do on the farm?”

“Oh, that’s right, you may not have noticed. I’d mostly situate myself in the areas Hershel was bound to come across with a Bible in my hands. Y’know, nodding my head and stuff, looking really into it. Worked like a charm. Tensions were high, but I think he felt slightly less inclined to send us packing knowing there was a God-fearing individual among us.”

He snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. You really were something else. He swears he could talk to you for hours if you allowed him.

“Try the Bible-thumping again. Might just do the trick.”

“Somehow or another, I doubt that. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you? The staring. I swear I saw some blinds being drawn when we all came out earlier.”

Of course he’d noticed. He’s likely half the reason behind it. “That’s what you’re ‘ere for. To get ‘em to stop looking at us like a damn circus act.”

“You and Rick are overestimating me. Maggie and Glenn have got it covered, little Judith adds brownie points too,” you tilt your head back to look at the cloudless sky. “Anyway, I figured if you planned on ditching, I’d invite myself along. Buddy system, remember?”

He flicks the cigarette out of his hands and onto the ground, extinguishing it beneath the sole of his boot. “Like I said earlier — can’t stop ya.”

Daryl silently praises himself for keeping up the cool and indifferent front when he’s internally celebrating over the prospect of having more alone time with you. What he wouldn’t give for more of that. He hasn’t the slightest damn clue why you seem to favor his company, but if there’s anything the apocalypse has taught him, it’s to accept a miracle when he’s handed one.

You smile at him as if he’d just offered you the world on a silver platter. It does too much to his poor heart.

“Great! It’s a date then.”

He almost chokes on his spit from how casually you say that, his eyes wide blown and jaw slacking. Fortunately, you’re none the wiser, standing up and patting the dirt off your jeans. The realization you’re about to leave makes him feel pathetically empty. He’d spent just about every moment of the past few weeks by your side, yet it wasn’t enough, he doesn’t think anything can be enough. The more of you he gets, the more of you he wants. You’re worse than the drugs his brother used to sing the praises of.

“Heading out?” Daryl can’t stop himself from questioning, no matter how obvious it might make him look. The porch steps already felt a whole lot emptier without you sitting beside him.

“Yeah, I promised to save Michonne if she wasn’t back in ten. She’s getting swarmed by children curious about her sword.”

“Good luck on your search n’ rescue.”

You give him a silly salute then, finishing the pantomime off with a bout of giggles. Then you’re off. Daryl exhales shakily, cursing himself for the way his heart’s pounding like he’d just run a marathon. He knows he needs to squash this lovesickness before it’s too late — if it isn’t already too late. He didn’t agree with Merle on a lot of things, especially when it came to you, but that last remark rings true. It’d be laughable for him to delude himself into thinking you feel anything but platonic affection toward him.

Especially with the options you have here in Alexandria. It may have been slim pickings before, but now, you might as well have an entire buffet laid out. You’re bound to catch the eye of some of the folk around here. If you could get him to like you, he figures you could win over almost anyone. Why would you give him the time of day when there are those clean-shaven, college-educated men running around like they own the place? If the world hadn’t gone to shit, that’s probably who you would’ve gone for.

It’s only because the world went to shit that you even know his name.

Watching how some Alexandrians wave at you, a gesture you animatedly return, he reaches for another smoke.

His brother’s words echo in his head, falling somewhere between a taunt and a warning.

“She ain't ever gonna want you the same way you want her.”

He would do well to remember that, wouldn’t he?

-

If someone told Daryl he’d died and gone to heaven, he’d believe them.

You’re leaning against one of the porch’s pillars, humming a tune to yourself, not having noticed his presence yet. He decides to keep it that way if it means he gets to admire you a while longer. You’re wearing a dark blue dress (he can imagine you correcting him and calling it ‘indigo’ or some shit), looking like an angel incarnate beneath the moonlight. It’s such a simple garment, stopping right above your knees, but to him, you might as well be wearing a ball gown. You’ve got those white tennis shoes that he saw you furiously scrubbing grass stains off of earlier today, the outline of a knife tucked away in them. His chest swells with pride at the knowledge you’re always ready to take care of yourself, thanks in part to his teaching.

Eventually, he manages to break himself free from his you-induced reverie, calling out your name to catch your attention.

You spin on your heel, placing your hands on your hips at the sight of him. “There you are. I thought my ditching buddy ditched me.”

He has to stop himself from saying he’d cross a river of broken glass barefoot if you were standing on the other side, instead settling on, “Aaron and Eric invited me over, figured you’d still be at the party. Did I keep ya waiting long?”

“No, you didn’t, I’m just being dramatic,” you revert back to your usual posture and grin. “It’s good. That they invited you over and you accepted it, I mean. Aaron’s a cool guy. Eric is too, from what I can tell. You guys have some manly bonding time?”

He rolls his eyes at the teasing lilt in your voice. “Mhm, sat around chuggin’ beer and talking ‘bout sports for hours. You?”

“Nothing of much note went down, just a lot of handshaking. I did get stuck talking to one of Deanna’s son for a while, though. I had to practically jump through hoops of fire to escape.”

Daryl swallows down the unpleasant taste that revelation leaves in his mouth. “You don’t like ‘im?”

“He’s… fine, I guess? Harmless enough. Just a really dry conversationalist, which to me, is a cardinal sin,” you stretch your arm above your head and Daryl has to stop himself from staring at how your skirt lifts up, revealing more of your shapely legs. Shit, he really does drool over you. “Oh, you’ll get a kick out of this. He invited me to a game of croquet. I was joking about that earlier, turns out I was right on the money.”

“You’re shitting me,” he deadpans.

“As much as I wish I was, no. God. I knew they’d be a bit sheltered here, but this… I don’t know. It worries me. I wish I could tell myself they can keep living this way, because that’s what they’re doing. Living. They really don’t know how bad it is. And if the bad ever makes its way here…”

You trail off, not needing to fill in the gaps for Daryl to piece it together. He gets what you mean. The entire group does. Carol thinks they’re children and Rick’s ready to take over at the drop of a hat. No one aside from you has expressed concern about their wellbeing out loud, although it’d been in the back of his mind when he saw there were children and old folk here. It’s this compassion of yours that brings him in like a moth to light. After everything you’d been through, you had every right to become a bitter husk of the woman you once were, but you haven’t.

And he thanks the God he isn’t sure he believes in for it.

After a moment’s deliberation, he sets his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. “It ain’t too late for ‘em. You learned. So can they.”

“Well, it did help that I had an excellent teacher.”

He grumbles a ‘shut up’ despite wanting you to do anything but.

Silence sets in for a few beats then. It takes him longer to notice this than it usually would, his head caught up in the near-euphoric experience of receiving a compliment from you. He realizes that he has yet to take his hand off your shoulder and has undoubtedly let it linger too long. He clears his throat, detaching himself from your person with some reluctance, suddenly taking an acute interest in the floorboards you’re both standing on.

Why is it still silent, save for the buzz of cicadas and the chirps of grasshoppers? Shit, did he cross some invisible line in the sand?

“Daryl?”

He grunts at that, not trusting his voice when his thoughts are at war with one another.

“You really are a good man.”

His head shoots back up and he’s searching your countenance for any signs of deception. You’re always teasing one another, this could be another instance of that. However, when your eyes meet his, he sees nothing but unabashed admiration shining in them. He doesn’t think he deserves to be looked at that way, much less by you of all people. You were looking at him like he was the second coming of Christ or something. It makes his stomach do backflips and his poor heart might go into cardiac arrest.

He tries to dismiss your claim with a lighthearted ‘nah’, not because he can’t accept the compliment, but because he doesn’t think it’s true. If you knew the way he thought about you, you’d take your words right back. Look at him the way people have his entire life. Disgust, maybe some pity. Doing what anyone would’ve done doesn’t make him a saint, no matter how hard you and Carol try to argue otherwise.

“You might not believe it, but I hope me thinking so suffices in the meantime,” you say, doing that creepy mind-reading thing you tend to be good at. “I’m truly grateful I met you. You make this life worth living.”

Should you keep going on like this, you might make him well up with tears. He’s glad there aren’t any reflective surfaces nearby because he can’t fathom the expression must be making. What is this? What are you doing to him? Those soft, kissable lips of yours must’ve casted a spell. You’re reaching forward now, pressing your palm against his cheek, and he considers pinching himself to see if this is all a dream.

If it is, he might not want to wake up.

Out of some primal, base instinct, he leans down, wanting nothing more than anything to get a taste of you. It’s when his lips are a few inches from yours that his brother’s words come hurling his way, knocking him off balance and making him jerk backwards. He sees something flit over your face — hates himself for it, too — the sight further reinforcing the prophecy spoken over him.

You deserve more. You deserve some man who knows how to speak what’s on his mind, who doesn’t shy away the second a conversation gets the slightest bit personal. Daryl doesn’t know how to do that, he might never figure it out either. If he does try, you’d have to bear the brunt of his inexperience, and your patience is bound to run out. He can barely put up with it himself sometimes, he can’t fathom putting you through it too.

“Are you okay?”

You’re staring up at him, your eyebrows knitting together, a frown that he so desperately longs to kiss away on your lips. He should be the one asking you that. From your perspective, you must figure he’s rejecting you. And still, you don’t stomp off in a huff or put him down. The tenderness emanating from those three words melts his heart like snow come spring. He opens his mouth, then closes it, licking his lower lip while trying to decide the best approach. Catching those damn hogs back at the prison was easier than getting a few words dislodged from his throat.

“You… you’re sure?” Daryl winces at how unlike himself he sounds when whispering this. “You feel that way ‘bout me?”

The pad of your thumb runs over his cheekbone. “Mhm. Guilty as charged.”

No matter how nonchalant you’re trying to act, he can feel the way your hand shakes against him. See the lines of worry you try to cover with a smile. Hear your every shallow breath. This must be fucking terrifying for you, baring yourself before him like you did, granting him a glimpse of your heart. His mask is one of indifference and yours is one of charm. You’re trying to keep things light like all those times on the road. When he saw you tossing and turning in your sleep, fighting back tears when you thought no one was looking.

He knew. He’s always known. He just never knew what to do about it, how to provide the same comfort you gave others.

“I wanna look out for you,” Daryl’s larger hand envelops the one you’ve placed on his face, causing your eyebrows to raise ever so slightly. “Wanna… wanna keep you safe and smiling. Want you to feel like you can do more than that ‘round me too. You can cry, get angry. ‘S alright. I know. I know.”

Tears well up on your lower lash line, and maybe he should feel a bit guilty for thinking so, but damn, you look beautiful. “See? This is what I meant when I said you’re a good man.”

“Cut it with your shitty jokes, woman,” he knows his bark is worse than his bite when you laugh at him, tilting your head back and revealing more of that tempting neck of yours. He swears to burn this image into the recesses of his mind for as long as he lives. You’re being you, he’s being him, and there’s nothing better.

All his bravado slips through his fingers like sand when you stand up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You breathe a taunting command against the shell of his ear and he shivers.

“Make me.”

That successfully ignites the competitive streak you know he has.

For how coquettish you were acting, you return his kiss in a gentle manner, and he reciprocates the pace you set. His hands find their way to your waist without daring to go lower, no matter how loudly his instincts urge otherwise. He’d sooner breathe his last breath than make you feel uncomfortable. If this sweet kiss is all you want, he’d count himself a blessed man from this day forward. It’s you who parts first, leaning back just enough to give your lungs some much-needed air. You stare up at him through your eyelashes, giving him that look that would make him agree to anything you ask.

“Do you want… to take this inside?”

Your voice dies off toward the end and he swears his brain temporarily shut off at the implication. Barely a second earlier he was thinking how he’d die a happy man just for getting a simple kiss from you, he’d written off the possibility of anything more than that. He nods his head, his hand going to the small of your back to lead you inside, when you turn and start making for the front lawn.

Reading the confusion on his face, you explain, “We were given two houses, remember? It might be a better idea to use the empty one for this.”

Daryl really had forgotten the rest of the world exists when he was in that bubble with you. The streets may be empty, but who knows how long that welcoming party will last. He’s grateful one of you has a head clear enough to consider these things. You’re his smart girl for a reason.

“Ya plan this?” He can’t stop himself from asking when he half-jogs after you. The thoughts that run through his head when you bend over to pick up a key hidden beneath a welcome mat will stay between him and God. You slot it into place, turn, then open the door, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He feels his pants growing tighter by the second.

“I’d be a liar if I said yes, though I wish I could take credit for everything,” you lock the door behind him. “No… it just felt like it was time. I’d been waiting for my moment for ages. Guess I got a little impatient.”

Your back is up against the door the second that last word is out of your mouth. He takes your lips for his own again, something like a gasp leaving him when you lift a leg to curl around his waist. He steadies you with his hands to ensure you don’t fall over, the air in the room feeling thicker than those humid Georgian summers you spent together. When he senses you’re stable enough, he lifts one hand to cup your cheek like you did to him, pulling you as close as he physically can. Your arms are around his neck once more, playing with the ends of his hair that he’s grateful he washed hours prior. He hadn’t anticipated this, yet knowing he had plans to spend time with you gave him the motivation to clean up.

Rick teased him for it earlier. The former sheriff had walked in on him shaping up his beard, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Saw [First], didn’t you?”

“Shut up, man.”

Officer Friendly had called it. Carol gave him a nod that made him figure she knew it too. So much for being covert about his feelings for you. Deep down, he knew it must be obvious, the extensive special treatment he gave you. His brother wasn’t too far off with his pussy-whipped comment, crass or not. Daryl would offer you his last bite of rations, final sip of water, hell, he asked if you wanted him to carry you on the grueling walk to DC when everyone was at their wit’s end. You had given him a weak chuckle and said he wasn’t in any shape to do that.

Regardless of how true that was, had you said yes, he still would’ve found a way to make it happen.

You were that precious to him.

Daryl starts tugging the hem of your dress, revealing the tantalizing sight of your bare thighs beneath. Before he can pull it up any further, your hand is on his, and he stops in fear he’d done something wrong.

Those self-doubts are washed away by the sheer neediness in your next word. “Bedroom?”

You don’t need to ask him twice.

The noise you let out when he lifts you up has got to be one of the cutest damn things he’s ever heard. Your response is immediate, you encircle your limbs around him, clinging on like he’d ever dare to drop you. The house doesn’t have any lights on, but Daryl’s eyes are good in the dark. He carries you up the steps while you bury yourself in the crook of his neck. He finds an empty master bedroom, shuts and locks the door behind him, then brings you over to the queen-sized bed.

You start to take your sneakers off when he touches your wrist and shakes his head. Before you can question his intentions, he kneels in front of you, getting down on his hands and knees. This here is a gift you’re giving him. He’d be damned if he didn’t act accordingly. He takes your shoes off with a surprising amount of patience, pressing a chaste kiss to your shin when he’s done.

“You sure you’re alright with this?” His voice comes out deeper than he’s ever heard it. “That you want it?”

“I’m absolutely positive. I’ll even beg, if you ask nicely enough. I’m nice like that.”

He squeezes your thighs. “There you go, running that mouth o’ yours again.”

“You could always make it so I can’t.”

Daryl raises an eyebrow at the insinuation, his cock twitching inside his briefs at the mental image it conjures up. You, sitting pretty on your hands and knees, mouth open and waiting for him. Knowing you, you’d probably rile him up first. Kiss his tip and apply the bare minimum amount of pressure. Would you take him in slow? Lick him up and down the side while staring up at him with those gorgeous eyes?

Tempting as it is to find out, he’s got other plans in mind. He wants to see your face twist in pleasure and hear his name fall from your lips. It’d do his pride some good to know one as sought over as you chose him.

You start playing with the straps of your dress, pulling him from his fantasies. “Do you want to take this off, or should I?”

He bites his lower lip hard enough that it’s a miracle it doesn’t start bleeding. He had intended to unwrap the present before him, but when you put it like that… it makes him curious about the alternative. He’d love to see what little show you’d put on for him, he’s got front-row seats, after all.

“Alright. Let’s see it.”

Daryl gets up from his kneeling position and takes a seat beside you on the bed. You get the hint, standing with legs that wobble ever so slightly. You don’t look surprised when he chooses to poke fun at your current state.

“Woah there, you good? Legs still work?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Better than ever, thank you very much.”

He leans back, making himself comfortable for whatever comes next. “Mhm. Whatever you say, princess.”

At hearing the sarcastic nickname, you go stiff as a board. He catches the way your pupils dilate. You press your face into your hands to muffle a groan, hiding a very noticeably flustered expression from his prying eyes.

“I haven’t heard you call me that for ages. I think it may have awoken something in me,” you confess, pulling your hands away at his prompting. “I may or may not have developed the biggest crush on you when you called me that back at the prison. It got me riled up every time. Even if I was laying on my ass ‘cause you flipped me over for the umpteenth time that day.”

Daryl snorts at the memory. “Ya always did seem to be out for blood after I said it.”

He keeps the fact that he found your frustration cute. It was a hidden ace up his sleeve that he utilized when it looked like you were about to give up, his training regiment admittedly brutal. He couldn’t risk going easy on you with the world being the way it is. You’d be down on the grass, soaked in sweat, groaning for him to call it a day because ‘you think every bone in your body is broken’. Apparently, all it took was a little taunting for you to hop right back on your feet again.

Your competitive streak might be as bad as his.

“Did you like me then, Daryl?” You question, dropping the left shoulder strap just enough to give him a treat. “You must’ve, if you never shooed me away.”

Damn freakishly perceptive woman. “Why ya asking if you already know the answer?”

“Because your voice is the best sound I’ve ever heard. Can’t blame a girl for wanting to hear more of it.”

He grunts, unable to meet your eyes after an embarrassing proclamation like that, his face flushing. How is it you say half the stuff you do? You and your stupid silver tongue would be the death of him. There are worse ways to go, he figures. He struggles to keep his eyes focused on the wall when you lean forward, granting him an unrivaled sight of your cleavage. His embarrassment still slightly outweighs his burning desire to ogle you. Sensing this, you splay your fingers against his clothed chest. Slowly, ever so slowly, your hand ghosts upward. Over his jugular then settling on his jaw. You move his face until he’s looking you dead in the eye again.

“Hey handsome,” your voice pours over him, sweet and thick like honey, “Eyes over here. I get jealous rather easily.”

God, he hopes you don’t notice the goosebumps dotting his skin. Maybe you were a cross between an angel and a witch, what with your ability to enthrall him. His boxers have never felt more uncomfortable in his life. He balls his hands into fists by his side, utilizing every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from picking you up, throwing you on the bed, and utterly ravishing you.

“That so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, the next strap falling victim to your ministrations. The front of your dress starts to slip down. His Adam's apple bobs from how thickly he swallows. The swell of your chest comes into view, pushed up by your nude-colored bra. His knuckles go white from how tight he’s grabbing the comforter to keep himself in check. You’re treating him to a show, it’d be rude to interrupt your performance now.

Without the support of the straps, the fabric continues falling, revealing more and more of your beautiful body for him. The wet patch of your panties isn’t lost on him — you’re relishing in every second like he is. While never looking away from him, your hands disappear behind your back, fiddling with your bra strap. He swears he’s never felt less like a man and more like a beast when he’s finally able to see your chest in its entirety.

You walk to him as if you have all the time in the world, your knees hitting the bed’s side not nearly fast enough for his liking. Finally, you take a seat on his lap, your crotch pressing perfectly against his. He lets out a low groan then, grateful for any pressure to relieve the near painful hard-on you’ve given him. His hands settle on your ass, grinding you against his clothed length, and you stifle a moan by biting down on your lower lip.

Daryl tuts, stopping before he’s even begun. “Nah, I don’t think so. Don’t go getting shy on me now, girl. Ain’t like ya.”

After a moment’s consideration, you nod your head, your eagerness apparently outweighing the shame he didn’t know you had. He grins at you, resuming his previous actions and earning those debauched noises he’s longed to hear. Your panties might be staining his jeans, but he can’t find it in himself to complain, he’d wear it like a damn badge of pride. You’re his woman now. He belongs to you as well — heart, mind, body, and soul — if you asked, he’d happily hand it over.

“It feel good? Hm?”

“Like everything I ever wanted and more,” you confess, the breathiness of your voice making his brain feel hazy. “You’re— god— I adore you, Daryl. You’re so good to me.”

His lips are on yours then, this kiss being the messiest yet. His tongue pokes at your lips, and when you part them, ready to receive whatever he’s willing to give, his tongue goes to explore the newfound territory. You taste sweet (is that chocolate?), like the best treat he’s ever been given. He swallows your little gasps and whimpers, giving your ass a firm squeeze to ground himself.

Daryl can’t believe this is really happening. That you want him as much as he wants you and have no qualms showing it. He might be drunk on lust, but there’s something else in there, a flavor he’s never experienced before you stumbled into his life. It’s sweeter than the chocolate, more addicting than the bottle.

He loves you. He has for the longest time.

He slows down his maneuvering of your body, letting you catch your breath and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“You okay?” You ask in between huffs, peppering his hairline with featherlight kisses.

“Better than ever,” he repeats your words from earlier, albeit with a southern drawl. Faster than you can process it, he flips you over, kicking his shoes off to lord knows where. You get over your surprise fast enough and shuffle back to make room for him. He hovers above you, almost uncertain of where to start. You must be feeling particularly gracious, for you let him drink in the sight of you without making any smart comments. Your body is pure eye candy and he’d be damned if he didn’t get himself a nice taste.

His lips are feverish against your neck, alternating between bites and open-mouthed kisses. He’s finally able to lavish your chest in some well-deserved attention, his rough palms pressing against the flesh, feeling you up like his life depended on it. You, being the perfect creature you are, grind up against him, drawing out a growl from his throat.

“It alright if I mark you up?” He breathes against your skin in between kisses. “Show everyone you’re mine?”

“Yes, please do.”

Never one to deny you anything, especially when you ask so nicely, he gets to work leaving proof of this tryst on your neck. Little bruises start to form where he’s concentrated his attention, right above your racing pulse. Content with its appearance, his lips start adventuring down. He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks, more than pleased at the gasp you let out in response. While his tongue swirls around you, his hand makes its way to the hem of your panties, the last clothing item keeping you from being entirely bare. He detaches himself from your chest with some reluctance, so he can witness this final barrier being torn away.

“If you look at me like that, I might just get embarrassed,” you laugh at the halfhearted glare he gives you for the comment. He supposes it wouldn’t be you if you weren’t actively trying to rile him up. You were coy like that, frequently looking for a way to get him going, not that he minded. It’s starting to add up in retrospect. You’d been flirting with him all this time, a fact that went right over his head.

“‘S fine by me. Would probably do you some good.”

Your eyes crinkle from how wide your smile is, unadulterated affection gleaming in your eyes. He can’t help himself — he bends down to peck your now pouting lips. Tempting as it is to kiss you silly for the remainder of the night, he’s a man on a mission. You lift your legs to help him get that final undergarment off. He sets it aside so you won’t have any difficulty finding it later. Then he’s drinking in the beauty that is your glistening folds, subconsciously licking his lips at such an appetizing display.

A soft call of his name breaks him from his stupor. “Hm?”

“Don’t, uh, feel like you have to do that,” you give him a sheepish glance. “It’s okay if you just want to, y’know.”

If he were a cruel man, he’d tease you until you squirmed for how adorable you’re acting, but he decides to have mercy. Gotta be gracious with the love of your life and all that. Still, he can’t help feeling slightly miffed you’d think he’s going to eat you out over some obligation. Your pleasure is his pleasure, your happiness is his happiness. He thought his desperation for you soaked into his every action since you confessed on that porch. Then he remembers he hasn’t got much room to talk, the voice of insecurity could be brought down to a whisper, yet never entirely silenced.

He gives your pelvis a kiss. “I wanna. Simple as that.”

Daryl’s reassurance comes out gruff, and while it might not be dripping with romance, it visibly puts you at ease. He doesn’t do anything until you nod. Then he’s in between your legs, feeling more at home by the second. He kisses you up your inner thigh, his beard tickling over the smooth expanse of skin. Finally, his tongue slips between his lips, pressing flat against your cunt. The way you shudder encourages him to repeat the action, testing the new waters with care.

His technique isn’t the most refined, but he’s eager, lapping you up with unmatched zeal. The wet sounds of him feasting himself on you fill the room, and he thinks it might be one of the best sounds to grace his ears. He alternates between licking you and pulling on your folds toward him slightly with his teeth. Whatever it is he’s doing, you seem to be enjoying it, if the way your legs go wide for him is any indicator. He pulls you flush against his mouth by your love handles, delighting in how you moan so prettily for him. He’d tried to imagine what you might sound like if he ever had a chance with you, what dulcet tones your voice would take on.

Those thoughts were enough to satisfy him on lonely nights, but they pale in comparison to the real thing. You’re a force of nature. So beguiling, so easy to love, that he’s once again reminded that it’s a miracle he’s the one you’ve chosen. Never has he felt so grateful. People had tried, yet you never went for it. Was he on your mind in those moments? Steering you away from anyone that isn’t him? He could only hope so.

Daryl pulls back, chuckling at the whine you let out at the loss. “Needy thing, ain’t ya?”

“Only for you.”

Once again, you prove to him that you always know what to say. You and your feminine wiles.

“Think you can handle my fingers?”

At this, you nod. He gathers your slick in his pointer and middle finger. He starts with his pointer finger, watching with something like awe as it eases inside you. Once he’s certain that it doesn't hurt, his middle finger is next, stretching out the walls that envelop him. A sinfully delightful sound is produced when he takes his fingers out and slides them back in. He eyes the slick coating his fingers, and after realizing he misses how you taste, dips his head back down to messily kiss your clit. Your hips are thrusting to meet his fingers halfway, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Close,” you breathe out in between moans, “I’m close.”

He hums against you, the low vibration adding to your mounting pleasure. He doesn’t care if his wrist hurts for the foreseeable future, he wants you to feel good, to completely unravel and show him he’s done a good job. The muscles in your thighs go tense and he hears you let out the most depraved whimper of his name. He doesn’t let up, hellbent on seeing you through the entirety of your high.

Your body goes limp as a ragdoll against the bed. Gently, you pull him back, combing your fingers through his tousled hair. He removes his fingers from you and plops them into his mouth, content to savor your taste a while longer. It’s second only to the taste of your lips. Once he’s finished cleaning them off, you guide his hand to your face, and he watches the act with muted confusion. He lets out a sound like a choke when your mouth wraps around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks while you do so.

“Christ, woman. You tryna kill me?”

A quiet pop sound resonates in the room when you detach yourself from him. “Of course not. I’m far too enamored with you.”

Daryl still can’t entirely fathom why exactly that is, but he keeps the thought to himself.

In his fervor, he neglected to shed his own clothes, a fault he works to remedy. There’s nothing he wants more than to feel your skin against his without any barriers. He stands up to make the process easier, starting with his vest, then the halfway decent shirt he picked for the night. Next is his buckle and jeans. He doesn’t have time to feel self-conscious, not when you’re laying there, waiting for him so well. The scars and other various imperfections marring his skin must be difficult to make out in the low light, anyway. He knows you wouldn’t judge him — he feels it in his bones — yet that’s a can of worms he’d prefer to leave for another day.

He lets out a sigh of relief when his cock is freed from its restraints. Copious amounts of pre-cum leak from the tip, a testimony to your influence on him. He gives himself a few strokes, yet stops when he releases how sensitive he is. He wants to make this last. He needs to make this last. He knows that every second he spends inside you is bound to feel like heaven on earth.

Daryl crawls over to you. You part your legs without him needing to ask, your eyes lidded and hair messily framing your face. He lines himself up at your entrance yet makes no movement beyond that. This isn’t an act that’s meant to be rushed through — no, he intends to savor every second as if it were his last. The intensity of his stare can only be matched by yours. It’s an intimate moment, this little reality you carved out together, apart from the struggle and anguish you’d both become so familiar with.

He knows it won’t magically go away. You know it too. But if you have one another, you can both start living again instead of surviving.

“Still sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” you whisper in a voice meant for his ears and no one else’s. “Please.”

Daryl handles you with care he didn’t even know he was capable of. He begins to push into you, sucking in a breath while he does so, his eyes glued to your face for any signs of discomfort. Your warmth wraps around him and draws him in. When he’s halfway inside, your hand grabs his, fingers intertwining. He stops, rubbing circles into the top of your hand with his thumb, silently admiring every way your face contorts while adjusting to his length. You inhale and exhale shakily before nodding your head, giving his hand a squeeze. He groans when he’s sunk all the way inside you.

You both stay like that for a moment, breathing in each other’s air.

“Have I ever told you,” he almost sounds pained when he speaks, “That you’re fuckin’ gorgeous?”

You give him one of those melodious laughs that makes his heart do things. “This’d be the first time.”

“Won’t be the last.”

You crane your neck to give him a chaste kiss. He’s about to chase after your lips when you pull away, but the words you say next cause all his higher thought to temporarily cease. “You can move now. Fuck me, Daryl.”

He feels himself twitch inside you and curses under his breath. It’s slow at first, so he can gauge what sort of rhythm you might like. The roll of his hips is sensual, his admiration of your facial expressions bordering on worship. Your hands go to his back to find purchase, unintentionally pulling him even closer in the process, and he grunts. He sets a steady pace. You throw your head back into the pillow, letting all your pretty noises out for him unabashedly. Praises fall from your lips, reassuring him of how good he’s making you feel, and how you want everything he’s willing to give. The encouragement makes his chest swell with pride.

You chose him. Out of everyone you could’ve pursued, you gave your affection to him, and that knowledge alone almost feels better than the way your walls flutter around his length.

“I care about you,” he pants into your ear, a declaration that makes you whine. “Have for so long. Want— want to show you. How much you mean t’me.”

Daryl hears you try to muster up a response in between your gasps, but it’s no use, you’re too lost in the throes of pleasure. He notices the way your moans grow higher in pitch, the sound music to his ears. Utilizing what little brain power he has left, he figures you must be getting close. The fact you’re going to come undone around him spurs him on. His fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing rushed circles around it. You tighten around him and it takes all the strength he has not to collapse on you, lost in the dizzying feeling.

There’s no more precision to his movements, everything is messy and frenzied.

You let out a cry of his name, and then a high-pitched whimper of, “I’m—”

And just like that, you unravel for him, nails digging into his skin and hips thrusting forward to meet his. He wills himself to stave off his own release so that you can enjoy yours. The sight and sounds you let out might be the most erotic thing he’s ever seen, he etches every detail of it into his memory.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

Daryl pulls out once he’s certain you’re done, fucking his fist like a man possessed. It doesn’t take much for him to come undone after witnessing what you just showed him. A gruff rendition of your name leaves his lips as he spills out onto his hand, his release coming out in spurts, coating his palm in white.

You both stay still for a few moments, taking the time to catch your breath. You’re the first to move, sluggishly at that, sitting up on your elbows and giving him a content smile. He’s about to cradle your face and put his forehead against yours when he recalls his release is still on his hand. He shifts to get up, noting the attached bathroom in this room. You stop him before he gets the chance, gingerly wrapping your fingers around his wrist, stilling his hand in the process. He gapes like a fish out of water as you lick the remnants off his skin, closing your eyes and humming as if it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

When you finish helping yourself, you give each of his knuckles a kiss. “I think the bones in my legs are broken. For real this time.”

Daryl snorts at the callback to your prison days, fond nostalgia swirling in his head.

“Need me to carry ya?”

You outstretch your arms for him. “Yes, please.”

He knows you’re being dramatic but can’t bring himself to care. He lifts you up, taking care not to trip on any of the clothes strewn on the floor, then sets you down on the sink’s granite counter. You both help yourselves to some nearby washcloths to get cleaned off. He kisses your shoulder when you’re done. Once back inside the bedroom, he slides his boxers back on, and you, your undergarments. You throw your back onto the bed and stretch, letting out a cute little noise while you do so.

Daryl’s feeling exhausted himself, but he figures you both shouldn’t be missing for too long. It’d make the others worry.

“I’m claiming this as our bedroom,” you fluff out a pillow before laying it down. The way his heart skips a beat at your usage of the word ‘our’ almost embarrasses him. Almost. “I’m not going to let you keep sleeping out on the porch. It hurts my back just thinking about it.”

He makes his way back over to you, footsteps silent against the hardwood. The second he lays down, you’re cozying up against his side, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrap around your frame as if he’d done it a million times before. It’s divine, hearing your steady breathing, feeling the warmth of your body. Despite everything, you’re still here. So is he.

He’ll do anything to keep it that way.

You lift yourself up to get a good look at him, your hair tickling his face. “Hey.”

He grunts to prove he’s listening.

“I love you,” you give him a kiss on his forehead, then his nose, and finally, his lips. “Thank you for letting me.”

The words from his brother on that sweltering day breathe down his neck. For some reason, the specific verbiage can’t form in his mind, it’s more of a muffled voice coming from another room. The sentiment is still there. Piercing, meant to hurt his heart in ways a weapon never could. That deep of a wound won’t heal itself overnight, yet if you’re the one holding the thread and needle, he thinks it can finally start closing.

He only whispers his next words when you press your forehead against his.

“I love you too. More ‘n anything.”

There’s a mischievous glimmer in your eyes which makes him nervous. Uh oh. He knows that look.

“… Enough to be my croquet partner tomorrow at noon?”

“Hell no.”

Unfortunately for him, you know as well as he does that if you keep asking nice enough, he’s bound to give in eventually.

He always does.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Blank Space

————————————————————————-

Summary: You prank Joe by texting him the lyrics of Blank Space by Taylor Swift while he's out with the guys.

Warnings: Unserious/funny, pranks!

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into the Mystic

A/N: Part 3 of blurb night!

————————————————————————-

No particular date for this blurb!

Joe had just left to go hang out with the guys at Sam’s house - something about welcoming some of the newly signed players.

I was home alone. Robin and Jimmy had picked up Miles and Tyson this morning to have a little grandparents' day with them, so it was just me.

The house was clean, and Joe and I had started packing to move, but according to him, I wasn’t allowed to do anything without his assistance.

There was no way Joe was at Sam’s yet, so I decided to give him a call.

“Hey, baby. Is everything okay? I just left.” - Joe

“Hi, yes, and I know. I'm just super bored.” - you

“I can turn around and take you with me. Jess will be there obviously, maybe you guys can hang out while we’re there. We’ll probably be in the basement.” - Joe

“You’d do that?” - you

The smile must have been evident in my tone because Joe laughed a little before answering.

“Would I offer if I wouldn't?” - Joe

“No.” - you giggled

“I'll see you in a bit, Mama.” - Joe

“Okay, Joey. I love you.” - you

“I love you too. And baby?” - Joe

“Yeah?” - you

“I turned around as soon as you called.” - Joe 

——

I held onto Joe’s hand as we walked up to Sam’s door, and when Sam opened it, he was surprised to see me there. 

“Oh hey, y/n!” - Sam

“Hey!” - you

“The boys are with my folks, and I didn't want her to be home all by herself.” - Joe explained

Silently squeezing Joe’s hand to thank him for not telling Sam that I’m a hormonal pregnant woman who's so needy she can't be away from her husband, he squeezed back.

Joe led me into the familiar house, and I immediately saw Jess standing in the kitchen by herself.

“See ya later.” - you

“Wait, don't sneak off yet. I wanna introduce you to some people.” - Joe

He directed me to the basement where we would make our rounds, Joe proudly introducing me as his wife over and over again.

“Bye, baby.” - you

“Bye, text me if you need me.” - Joe

“I will.” - you

Joe leaned down and gave me a quick peck before I made my way over to the stairs.

After finding Jess, she thanked me for coming, and we found ourselves deep in conversation.

——

“Wait so you just do it randomly?” - Jess

“Yup. I'll just feel like pranking him, and then I just find one to do.” - you

“Just like that?” - Jess

“Just like that.” - you

Jess laughed as she scrolled through my saved TikTok pranks.

“You should do one on him right now.” - Jess

“Ooo okay. Which one?” - you

After careful consideration of a few different pranks, Jess and I decided on one that would be easiest for us to do. It was a text prank.

Nice to meet you, where you been?

Uhm, in the same house that you're in…?

I could show you incredible things.

You do all the time, baby. 😊

Magic, madness, heaven, sin.

Sounds poetic.

Saw you there and I thought “OMG look at that face.”

Wait when? I'm confused.

You look like my next mistake.

I hope I'm not a mistake.

Love’s a game, wanna play?

We're professionals at that game when it comes to each other, Mama.

New money, suit and tie.

Is that what you want me to get with my extension???

I can read you like a magazine.

I know lol.

Ain't it funny? Rumors fly.

What rumors? Is it bad?

And I know you heard about me.

Heard what?

So hey, let's be friends.

We are already. You're my best friend and lover.

I'm dying to see how this one ends.

I hope it doesn't end, we’re forever.

Grab your passport and my hand.

Woah woah, where are we going that I’ll need a passport??

I can make the bad guys good for a weekend.

What the hell? I'm so lost. I'll be upstairs in a second.

Jess and I cackled as we typed and sent each message, soon Joe was striding into the dimmed living room with a confused look on his face.

“The hell was that?” - Joe

“A prank. It was song lyrics.” - you laughed

“It was my idea, so don't get mad at y/n.” - Jess

“Oh, I wasn't going to.” - Joe

“He can't get mad at me.” - you grinned

Joe jokingly rolled his eyes before plopping down next to me on the couch.

“What are you doing?” - you

“I’m already up here, might as well hang out with you for a bit.” - Joe

Jess smiled at me when Joe cuddled closer to me.

“I feel like I'm third wheeling in my partner’s house.” - Jess

“It's not my fault I'm better than Sam.” - Joe

“Joseph.” - you shoved him

“Am I lying?!” - Joe

————————————————————————-

Authors note: Next fic is at 8:15!!!

(I lost the request for this, but it was around the lines of “texting Joe the lyrics of Blank Space by Taylor Swift to see what he’d do”)

[lulublack90]

Prompt 31 - Lock

@jegulus-microfic January 31 Word count 1755

This is it folks. I'm quite emotional. I really hope you all like it.

For my biggest fans @weirdtinkerbellversion @thedvilsinthedetails and @beautyoftheships I love you guys.

Previous part First part

All he could hear was white noise. His brain couldn’t process James’s words. His eyes found the bottle of wine, and he automatically poured himself a glass and downed it. 

He grasped the edge of the counter with both hands and felt his body shake. 

James remained silent, not wanting to push him. 

Regulus bit back tears and turned around, putting his protective mask in place, leaving his face devoid of emotion. 

“So that’s it for us then?” He stared at James with dead eyes, his voice a bored monotone. It made James shiver.

“I don’t want it to be.” Tears dripped down his face. “Reg,” He croaked. “I love you. I want to be with you. Lily told me this life-changing news,” He looked at his watch. “Four hours ago.”

“So, you didn’t know anything while I was arranging my return to England?” He sounded cold and accusing. He tried not to care. James shook his head. 

“No, Reg. I swear. I’ve only just found out.” James looked at him, features full of heartbreak. “You’re the first person I’ve told. Not even Sirius knows.” This shocked Regulus almost as much as finding out James was going to be a father. 

He smelt burning. He spun around and pulled the ruined dinner out of the oven. He threw it on the side and bit down on his lip. 

“James, I need you to go. Please.” His mask had slipped. It would be only moments before he broke down. 

“Reg—“

“Please, James. I need to figure out if this is the life I want. Kids were never my plan, and now…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he let it sit. 

“I’m so sorry, Reg. Nothing ever seems to go right for us. Does it? I really hope that changes.” His voice was thick as he continued. “Please remember whatever you choose, I will always love you.” With that, James left. The door hadn’t even banged shut before Regulus was sobbing. 

———————————————————————————

James’s chest hurt. What should have been a hopefully pleasant evening had turned into yet another nightmare. He looked up at the skies and called out to whoever might be listening.

“Could whoever is writing our story please give us a break?!” When he got no answer, he walked back to his empty house. Even Leo had gone out.       

His phone buzzed. 

‘Hey. Reggie just texted me and said you’d gone home already. Take it it didn’t go well then? Wanna meet for lunch tomorrow? Usual place?

Love ya

xxx’

He sent back a quick, ‘Yeah, sounds good to me. See you at noon x.’ He decided the best thing was to go to bed and deal with everything in the morning. 

***

James heard the sound of thundering boots coming up fast behind him. He began to turn, but before he could see what was happening. There was an almighty thud. He looked down at the pavement and sprawled across it. Hair in a wild mess was Sirius. 

“Trip over your laces again?” James said flatly. 

“Yup.” A muffled reply came from the heap on the floor. James snorted loudly as he bent to pick his friend up. 

Miraculously, Sirius had gotten away with only a slight graze on his cheek. 

“Is it true? Am I going to be an Uncle!” He shook James vigorously in his excitement. 

“I suppose so, I guess,” James said as he tried to escape Sirius's grasp.

“I’m godfather!” He burst out, bouncing up and down. 

“Sirius, we’re not even religious.” 

“Fine, fairy godfather, whatever. Either way, I bagsy it.” James sighed and clapped him on the back.

“You got it, you absolute crazy man.” He bent down and tied Sirius’s laces for him. 

“Awww, you’re gonna be such a good dad.” He gushed as he wiggled his foot, checking out his shoelaces.

“Come on then, let’s go get lunch. I had some amazing news to tell you.” James chuckled as he threw his arm around Sirius’s shoulder and continued down the street to the little cafe on the corner. 

Sirius didn’t stop babbling about all the baby things he’d googled and spouted off so much information that James felt his chest tightening in panic.

“I think he just needs time, you know.” 

“Hmm, what?” James had completely zoned out, picking his sandwich to pieces.

“I said, he just needs time. It’s a lot. But I really hope he picks you, mate.” Sirius said, taking James’s hands away from his decimated sandwich and squeezing them gently. He didn’t want to get his hopes up again, but he didn’t fight very hard.      

***

He was painting when the door went. He nearly fell off the ladder as he hurried downstairs to answer it. He was covered in paint, so he tried to touch as few things as possible. 

He yanked the door open, slightly red-faced, and lost all his breath when he saw Regulus standing there. 

“Hi,” 

“Hi,” 

“I’ve made my decision.” Regulus blurted out, not waiting to be invited in. James felt his mouth go dry.

“And?” His tongue was like sandpaper. He couldn’t take the suspense.

“I’m in,” Regulus said confidently. “Nappies, late night feedings, helping them plot their revenge on the school bully. All of it. I’m in.” Without warning, James flung himself at Regulus. He gathered him up into his arms and spun him around. He was bursting with joy. 

He suddenly dropped him and ran into his office. He rooted around in a draw and rushed back to Regulus, who was still waiting at the front door. 

“I got you something.” He held out the small box.

“What the fuck! James! Are you proposing?” Regulus’s eyebrows disappeared into the curls that hung over his forehead. James’s eyes widened.

“NO! No, No,” He opened the box. “It’s just a key!” 

“Oh,” Regulus sounded disappointed. James made a mental note to put a pin in that for later. 

“And what lock does this open, James? Your heart?” A playful smirk settled on Regulus’s mouth. 

“It’s a key to the house. So you don’t have to knock any more, you can come and go as you please. And—” He took a deep breath. He’d been preparing for this. “And if you’d like to—No pressure, by the way—But if you’d like to, I’d love it if you moved in with me.” Regulus took the silver-coloured key from the box and held it in his hand, staring at it, flipping it over in his palm. He looked up at James, a sweet, shy smile on his lips. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“Okay, I’ll move in with you. Being away, I forgot how obnoxious Sirius is. I’ve had to buy earplugs to block out his nighttime noises.” He pulled a face, gagging slightly. James grabbed him in his arms again and lifted him into the air. 

“I love you,” He whispered across Regulus’s lips before closing the gap. 

Only when he set a breathless Regulus back on his feet did he remember he was covered in paint. He looked in horror at the cream-coloured paint splattered all over Regulus’s black coat. Regulus looked down as well. 

“Is that paint?” His eyebrow shot up as he questioned James. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was painting the room that’s going to be the nursery. Er, put your coat in the wash, and you can borrow one of mine. I’ll just go get changed.” He ushered Regulus inside and shut the door. Being very careful not to touch him again.

Regulus shrugged off his coat. 

“Did you get it finished.? He asked matter of factly. 

“Er, no, I didn’t. I barely even started. Only done about half a wall.” Regulus pulled his jumper off and started up the stairs. James chased after him and into his bedroom. But Regulus wasn’t there. “Reg?” He called out as he tried and failed to figure out where he’d gone. 

“I’m in the baby’s room. Where are you?” Regulus called back. James hurried out of the bedroom. Clearly, he’d gotten the wrong idea. 

Regulus, roller in hand, was making a start on the wall that James had started. He’d already accomplished more than he had and didn’t have a lick of paint on him. James leaned against the door frame, watching the man he hoped to spend the rest of his life with painting his unborn child’s room. 

He didn’t think there were enough words in the world to describe how much he loved him.     

———————————————————————————

Nine months later

“James, he’s beautiful.” Regulus hadn’t expected to feel this way when meeting baby Harry for the first time. The tiny raven-haired boy slept soundly in James’s arms. James grinned the biggest grin Regulus had ever seen on his face. He turned to Lily. “He’s amazing, Lily. How are you doing?” She looked exhausted, but she still had a smile for him and a cheeky wink. 

“You know me. Cup of coffee, and I’ll be right back up.”

“Do you want to hold him?” James asked him as he slowly rocked the baby to and fro. 

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Regulus said quietly. His palms felt sweaty as he looked nervously at the tiny, delicate bundle that was nestled in James’s arms. 

“You’ll be fine. Here.” James stood and awkwardly transferred Harry into Regulus’s arms. 

He looked again at the tiny baby and felt a protective love surge through his body. 

Harry fussed in his arms, and he instinctively began to sway. Harry opened his little mouth in a perfect O and settled back down. He was so in love. 

There was a quiet tap at the hospital door, and Sirius’s face popped around it. 

“Can we come in yet?” He whined. James nodded.

“Yeah, of course you can.” 

Sirius rushed in, followed more slowly by Remus. They crowded around Regulus so they could get a good look at the baby. 

“Look, Sirius,” Regulus said, pulling his gaze away from Harry to look at his brother. “Isn’t he perfect?” Sirius wrapped an arm around him.

“Yeah, Reggie, he is. Now give me a turn!” Reluctantly, Regulus handed him over and went to stand next to James. James pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around him as they watched Sirius and Remus quietly argue over how long Sirius got to hold him before it was Remus’s turn. Lily had fallen asleep. She was exhausted after the long labour. It was peaceful. 

James leant his chin on Regulus’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“How you doing, Papa?” Regulus’s heart melted.    

[taylormarieee]

~It starts with you~

Summary: You are living with Hershel on the farm. He adopted you when you were stranded during this apocalypse. When Newcomers come to the farm seeking help and refuge. You fall in love with a handsome, married Officer.

Genre: Fluff-Suggestive

Pairing: Rick Grimes x Fem!Greene!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Kissing, none really just fluff. (Just a reminder this is like season 2 Rick when he kinda starts growing his beard a little), Suggestive Thoughts, Touching in inappropriate ways, the group being weird/watching you guys.

Previously:

"Uhm Rick t-thank you for catching me. I owe you one!" You say putting on an awkward smile. "Uh yea, no problem." Rick says weakly holding onto a wall. "Uh Rick you don't look too good? You need to rest." Maggie says. "Yea, thanks Maggie! I'll put him to rest." Lori says clenching her jaw.

You and Maggie both awkwardly walk away and head up to her room. "You totally like him! Those puppy dog eyes give it away sister!" She says excitedly. "No Maggie! I can't, He is married." You say shaking your head.

"Sister, Have you seen the tension between Shane and Lori? They clearly have or Had something going on behind Rick's back and haven't told him! Just talk to Rick, get to know him." She says smiling. I roll my eyes and get up and say goodnight to everyone, even Carl who is now awake and responsive.

Maybe you will take up on Maggie's offer and go for it.

After all, you always get what you want...

Now:

You wake up the next morning feeling amazing! The sun is shining and you are excited to meet the rest of Rick's group. Like fully meet them. You don't even know half of them besides Shane, Lori, Carl, Rick, Dale, and Andrea.

You brush your teeth, put your hair into your favourite style and put on a pink tank top and overalls with worn out Converse. You say good morning to everyone in the kitchen when you arrive.

"Good Mornin everyone!" You say happily as you take a fruit from Maggies plate. She swats your hand away and you chuckle. You hear certain whispers coming from a cute little Korean boy and you smile at him.

"You must be Glenn! It's nice to meet ya!" You say, your accent is very thick this morning. He smiles and nods and pink tint forming prominently around his cheeks and nose.

"Maggie' how's daddy doin?" You ask in a worried tone. "He doesn't want these people to stay sis, he wants 'em to leave as soon as Carl's ok. I like these people y/n, I can't watch 'em leave! After everything we helped 'em with? They deserve a place to stay. We have the room!" She says clearly upset.

"It's fine. We don't want any trouble." Shane says.

"Who said you were trouble? I'll convince Daddy to let you good folks stay. But, on one condition! Please help around the farm, we can do this alone but it would be faster with some help. We lost some people and I can't afford to lose anymore." You say looking at the pictures on the fridge.

They all nod in understanding and you smile. You walk out of the room, your hips swaying as you walk away. You pass Rick and stop in your tracks. You see him sitting with his son and your contemplating whether to go over there or not.

You decide to look at the front door and walk straight out of the house. You couldn't do it. Why couldn't you do it! And if you go back in, it will seem weird.

You just decide that you're going to occupy your time with some gardening. You grab some tools and walk to the garden and begin working.

~1 hour later...

You were about to finish up when Shane walks up to you.

"Hey, It's uh Y/N right?" He asks holding his hand out for you to take. You gladly take his hand with a smile and stand up.

"Yeah, what's up? Is anyone else hurt?" You ask worry contorting on your face. He chuckles.

"No no, I was just wondering if you would like to come shoot with us. I know we're gonna be on our way soon but in case y'all are ever in danger." He kinda trails off awaiting your response.

"Oh, of course! I'm a little rusty so go easy on me." You say chuckling. "I gotcha darlin." He says with a sweet smile.

"So Shane, what did you do before all of this?" You ask out of curiosity.

"Well, I was an officer. Me and Rick both were. But I lost him in the midst of all this when it first started. Thought my best friend was dead, but let me tell you something. Rick, is a good man with a strong heart. And I love him, man. He's my brother." Shane says, walking with you to the shooting area.

You smile and nod. You guys arrive and you see Rick standing there. You see Andrea and Dale and Maggie and Glenn. Maggie runs up to you and hugs you.

You smile and hug her back. "Do you know how to shoot?" You ask maggie.

"Daddy's taught me a little bit. I know the basics." She says smiling.

You nod and walk towards where Rick and Shane are standing.

"G'day fellow mates!" You say in your terrible British accent earning a chuckle from both men.

"Hey. I just wanted to say again thank you for saving my sons life. I've never seen anyone do that as quickly as you did." Rick says smiling.

"Oh please, don't thank me. Thank Hershel." You say with a smile.

He nods and opens his mouth to ask you something but his question was already asked by Shane.

"You wanna learn how to shoot? Rick can help you if ya want darlin." He says with a smirk on his face.

"Yea that'd be nice. Like I said Shane, Im a little rusty so please go easy on me." You say giggling. Rick smiles at your laughter. You have such a cute giggle, he thought.

And such a beautiful smile, and pretty, luscious lip- God what was he thinking. He's married and plus you probably don't see him that way anyway.

"Well c'mon. We don't got all day!" He says going to ask Andrea for her gun. She seemed to have a bit of an attitude but she gave it up anyway.

Everybody walked behind you to watch how the noob would do with a gun. Rick handed you the gun and lifted your arms up to the right position.

"Nuh uh, Hand only on the trigger if you intend to shoot, alright?" He asks his accent pretty and deep.

You shake your head to show you understand and fix your stance. Rick slides his hands up your arms to your shoulders before whispering in you ear, "Good Luck." He says with a smirk.

Unaware that his wife was watching the whole interaction. You smiled and said, "Thanks."

You aimed the gun at the first can and took a breath in and out. You held the gun up and bent your elbows like Rick had shown you. You put on foot in front of the other to make sure you don't fall on your ass and put your hand on the trigger.

You breathe in and out one more time before you pull the trigger. Dead hit. The can was knocked straight off the wood. You walked down and continued to shoot the cans over and over never faltering and hitting every single one.

When you were done you see the proud look on Rick and Shanes face, shock on Maggie and Glenn's face and annoyance on Andrea's face.

You smile and jump up and down, but you quickly stop remembering theres a loaded weapon in your hand. Rick walks up to you and hugs you spinning you around forgetting that Lori was even there. You didn't see Lori.

Too caught up in your excitement so you drop the gun and immediately hug him back.

"Your a fast learner. I'm proud of you." He says smiling while putting you down.

Before you could respond, Lori interrupts. "Rick! A word." She says giving the most stern look at him but nevertheless she smiles at you before walking away. You smile back and walk over to Maggie and Glenn and engage in conversation while watching Rick and Lori from afar.

The sun is starting to set and you're sitting on the porch on the swing looking at you feet swing and thinking.

You're thinking about how beautiful Rick looked in the sunlight today. His beautiful curls and his beautiful smile. God why are you like this! Thinking about a married man with a child! You are insane. But why did he have to be so hot.

It's the apocalypse and you don't exactly get laid anymore. Just you, your sex books and your fingers. Its the best combo during times like this but sometimes you don't get privacy anymore.

Hershel's busting in your room asking for help in the garden. Maggie needs help cooking or setting the table. Beth needs help with her hair on certain days. Its so much.

So when a hot officer comes knocking on the door asking for help, how could you not fall in love! He's such a pretty man and you wish he was yours so badly.

You wish he was on top of you ramming into your body so hard. You wish he was eating you out until you cry and scream his name.

You really wish that Rick Grimes was yours and yours only. You treat Carl like he is your own. Hell you saved his life for christ's sake! You're older than Maggie and Beth. You're of that age where you would want children and live in a cute little house.

Now those dreams are crushed because of the frickin apocalypse. Your sad about it but grateful it happened. Because you met some amazing people along the way.

Your so lost in your thoughts you don't even realize the man coming up to you. "What're you thinking about? hmm?" He asks with a smirk on his face.

Startled you say the first thing that comes to mind without even registering what your about to say.

"You Rick." You say staring at him. His face shifts into a sly smile and you retract your statement. "Uhhh, oh god, not l-like that I-I mean like y-you and the group!" You say nervously chuckling.

He lets out a laugh and sits next to you. "Your cute. Anyone ever tell ya that? You're so fun and kind and adorable. So nervous all the time and I personally find it adorable."

Omg did he just call you adorable! Oh my god you must be dreaming.

"R-Really? You think I'm adorable?" You ask scooting a little closer, which he notices.

"I mean yeah, you look adorable, you act adorable and who wouldn't think a girl like you is adorable." He says scooting closer to you as well.

You both are so lost in your conversation you guys don't even realize that everybody is inside invested in your conversation. They can't hear you guys of course but they see you guys laughing and scooting closer to each other.

Lori's watching the whole thing with anger. So what if you saved her sons life that's her husband you're flirting with. She doesn't want to go out there yet but she sits back and watches whats going to happen.

Daryl smiles to himself knowing that Rick had eyes for you all this time. Maggie is smiling her ass off at you shooting your shot with Rick.

You guys continue to laugh and talk about other stuff.

"See at first I wanted to major in Criminal Justice but, I chose to major in being a nurse and go to nursing school instead cause I noticed how much I loved helping people. Plus I watched a lot of doctor shows!" You say laughing.

He chuckles and nods. "See that's very interesting. Me personally I loved helping people just, in a more dangerous way. Being a cop is scary yea but it made me happy you know? Especially being with Shane. It made it a whole lot better." He says smiling at you.

You watch and stare at his lips as he talks. You decide in you mind to just go for it. You move you face and kiss him. You give him a semi-long kiss and then pull away.

You immediately start apologizing but is interrupted by him kissing you back. He grabs your jaw and kisses you passionately. You move your hand to his neck and kiss him back.

The kiss lasts for longer than expected and you guys start getting closer to each other and your hands start to roam.

Your hands go down his neck to his chest and his hands go up your thighs and to your waist. You pull away and he starts attacking you neck with kisses. Sucking and kissing spots where there are sure to be bruises that you won't be able to hide.

you turn your head to the window and see everybody staring at you guys with smiles, and smirks on there faces. You squeal once you see Lori and push Rick off you and fall to the floor to hide yourself from the embarrassment.

Rick has a puzzled look on his face and when you see it, you lift your hand and do a pointing motion to the window. He looks at the window and sees everybody staring.

He looks around the room and sees Lori. He drops down as well and you both burst out laughing.

Oh god what have you guys done!

A/N: This was fun and cute to write so I hope y'all enjoyed!

Taglist: @sickyrat @sinsandsweetness @catt-leya @carlsdarling @loveforcarl @carlgrimesenthusiast @rickydixky @rickswh0r3 @murdadixon

[corazondebeskar-reads]

remember what you're staring at is me

jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

originally for Febuwhump 2024 Day 8 - found footage | Febuwhump masterlist

words: 2.9k

summary: A videotape is left on your porch one morning, and it changes everything about your budding relationship with Joel Miller.

warnings: Jackson!Joel, some dark!Joel, some soft!Joel, we love a man who contains multitudes, ambiguous ending, I wish I had made this a much longer one shot but oh well, references to The Hospital Incident, oral (f & m receiving), implicit p in v

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You find it on your porch one morning in an old paper bag. Someone’s written right onto the brown wrapping with black crayon—”you need to know the truth.” It seems rather dramatic once you peel back the paper to find a videotape. 

It's not high quality—the footage is fuzzy and crudely edited together. But there’s just no mistaking the man on the screen. 

Joel and Ellie came into your life when they arrived for the second time in Jackson. You had heard the gossip the first time, but never met the pair. 

You met him fairly quickly when he swung by with a torn jacket, gruff and blunt but polite. Steady. “They, uh, said to ask you about some mending?” 

“Sure thing,” you say easily, smiling at the very handsome stranger. “Let me take a look.”

It was a casual thing, the sewing, and you liked it that way. You didn’t make anything, didn’t haul things to the market. You spun the wool for those who did craft things, and then you kept to your little projects at night.

The push and pull of the needle was the meditation you needed to keep going every day, even now, even safe here in this bubble. Something productive, something to keep your trembling hands busy and your mind blank. 

And in return, you got company and conversation. Most folks knew your services could be bought with a warm drink or baked good, a promise of a favor you’d never call for.

“How long?” he asks, voice flat and serious, but it didn’t prick at you, didn’t land as rough as it set out. 

“Not long,” you muse, looking over the tear—a knife gash of some sort, and the thin lining that peeked out. “Ten minutes if you just want it sewn up, or if you give me a day, I can get it properly stuffed.”

“Sewn, please.” 

Please. You like that. Manners at the end of the world. 

“You sure? Be a lot warmer if I fill it out.” 

“I don’t—” he scowls at the ground. “I barely have anythin’ to offer ya for the mending.”

You want to tell him it’s on the house, call it a welcome basket, but he’s holding out what he does have to offer and your jaw drops just a little, lips parting to make way for a soft, pleased “oh” that has him straightening up. 

“I can find somethin’ else,” he says.

“Oh, no. That’s… amazing,” you say, taking the jar into your hands and popping the lid. They certainly aren’t potent, not like you remember, but oh, you could die from just the faint smell of the cinnamon sticks. “This is… more than enough. I’ll owe you, I reckon.”

“I dunno about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Seriously,” you say, eyes wide. You set the jar on the counter. “For that, I’ll get the whole thing done tonight.” After all, the delay had only been so you could go to bed. 

“Y’ain’t got to do that, I don’t mean to be a bother.”

You brush him off and start gathering your supplies. If you steep the thread in tea for a bit, you think, you might be able to get close to the color of the fabric.

He turns down a cup when you offer but does take a seat at the table. He’s as stiff as your late husband’s favorite bourbon, but the blunt edges grow a little duller when you don’t try to keep up small talk.

The bright overhead light casts him in shadow, deepening the circles under his eyes and drooping his wrinkles in inky black. But his eyes are bright and curious as he watches you start to add unspun wool from your stockpile into the jacket, trying to shape and layer it evenly through the inside. You have to make a couple incisions but keep them tight to the hemlines and existing stitching.

The thread dries quickly with the hearth raging and he speaks for the first time as you weave it through the needle’s eye.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a threader,” you say, offering it to him to see after you’ve pulled it loose. “I, um. I’m not as dexterous as I used to be and I can’t say my sight’s as keen, either. Makes it easier to use these damn tiny needles. Luckily, it wasn’t a very in-demand item when people were raiding shops.” 

“Huh,” is all he says, sliding it back across the table to you. 

The stitching is quick and rote. You’re used to people pouring out their life stories and desires and drama when they sit at your table or on your sofa, feet kicked up on your coffee table while you sew. 

But this silence with Joel is warm, too. You’re almost regretful the job didn’t take longer.

You stand up and he follows, pushing his chair neatly back into its place. He takes the coat and runs a gentle finger across the original wound.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. 

You give him a wan smile, never having found those words to settle right in your skin. “Nice meeting you, Joel,” you say instead. “You know where to find me if you need anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and lets himself out. 

You lock the door behind him and wonder why you feel so energized. That tea was decaf, after all. And a little fuzzy, if you were totally honest, but you weren’t going to dump it down the drain just over a few fibers. 

One day when he comes, it’s with a bundle of thick socks and another, smaller jacket. Not a difficult job, but the gift he brings to trade knocks you off kilter so hard that you have to sit down.

“Not sure if it’ll be any use to you, but figured you’d know someone who can use it if you don’t,” he says, looking at the floor.

You’ve gotten to know him a little better, though his visits are few and far between. But he’s gotten more comfortable around town, more interested in following that wild daughter of his than hiding away. 

Sometimes, he’ll even sit at your table in the mess. You’d even go as far to say that the two of you were friends.

So you can tell what he’s trying so hard not to project. He’s nervous.

It looks almost like a desk lamp with its sturdy base and bent wooden arm, but in place of a shade and bulb is a hoop. You recognize it immediately and your stomach swoops. It’s an embroidery stand and you might faint just from that, just from having a steady way to hold the fabric tight as you sew. 

But that isn’t all. He shows you how to turn the peg that loosens the grip of the handle on the side, a raw hewn thing that doesn’t match the worn stain of the stand. You’re burning, head spinning, and the fuzzy darkness at the edges of the world stop you from focusing on the gift. 

The carved handle, he says, with hands curling around either side of you, has been partially hollowed to accommodate the end of the magnifying glass. You can raise and lower it with the peg and rotate the handle to use the other side of the glass.

“Joel,” you say uncertainly. He doesn’t really seem like he’ll want the attention drawn to it, but you have to know. “Did you make that?”

“Nah,” he scoffs. “Just added the glass is all.”

“Just added the glass,” you echo in a whisper. But you know he doesn’t mean he only attached it. He made the entire attachment and fit it onto the stand. 

His ears are red and he won’t look at you. 

You set a cautious hand on his arm where it reaches across your shoulder, still resting on the table. He’s caging you in from where he leaned over to demonstrate. “Joel, this is incredible. This is… this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Ain’t a big deal,” he mumbles but he doesn’t shake off your hand. “Just saw it and thought it might be useful.”

You feel emboldened by his kindness, so you curl your hand around his bicep. “Can I thank you?”

He looks down at you now, seeking something that he must find, confirmation in your blown out pupils and parted lips, and nods. 

He doesn’t break away as you slip from the chair to sink onto your knees or when your fingers loop around his belt to pry it open. 

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” you say, voice tight. 

He shakes his head. “You’re not.” His voice is the rumble of thunder breaking a tense summer night. 

You don’t bother removing his belt, simply knocking it open to reach for his zipper. 

You’re about to tug his pants down when the door opens. 

“Hey sugar,” Tommy drawls, “all my fuckin boxers have holes. Can you help a guy out? Promise they’re cle���“

His loud mouth gave just enough warning for Joel to pull his shirt down over his belt and for you to fumble at rolling the cuff of one pant leg up just so, reaching for a pin. 

“Oh hey, Joel!” Tommy says happily. “Finally fixin’ those ratty old things?” 

It’s a fucking miracle that he’s in these jeans, his favorites. Actually, it’s not, he wears them all the time, and they’re just a little too long so the bottoms are torn up. 

“Guess so,” Joel scowls. He’ll have to finally let you hem them now. 

“Just leave ‘em on the table, Tommy,” you say around the needle between your teeth. “And tell Maria to stop bein’ so rough with them.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “She can’t help it, sugar. I’m irresistible, see?” He claps his brother on the back and takes his leave. 

You slump a little, sighing as you set the needle on the table before moving to resume your activity. 

But Joel steps back. “I should get goin’,” he says. The line between his brow is cavernous and his lips are tugged down at the corners. 

“Oh. Okay,” you say, and pull yourself up with a hand clutching the table. 

“So. Thanks again,” he says. And then he’s gone. 

You let yourself drop dramatically into a chair, groan growing as it turns physical when your tailbone hits the seat wrong. 

You’re rubbing your forehead and thinking about going to bed to give yourself a pity orgasm when the door opens. He’s quiet and cautious, but he pushes the door shut behind him and locks it. 

“M’sorry,” he says. “I…”

“It’s okay,” you say with a tired smile. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” he says, offering you a hand. 

You take it and let him pull you to standing. 

His other hand finds your waist. “I was bein’ a coward.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—”

“Darlin’, you couldn’t,” he says. His arm slides further around, pulling you to him in a gentle embrace. He looks down at you through heavy lids, watching the way your lips part just a little. “You still want this?”

You bring a hand up to cup at the hair that curls down the nape of his neck. “Please,” you whisper. 

He matches your motion, cradling your head in his palm as he dips his head to kiss you. He wastes no time, licking into your welcoming mouth, seeking out the earthiness of the tea still lingering on your tongue and the sweet shiver of goosebumps prickling across his skin as you wind your fingers into his hair.

“Shit,” he mumbles when you break away for air. “What do you want, baby? What can I have? You gotta tell me now, before I can’t think straight.”

“You can have whatever you want, Joel,” you say, hot breath brushing his swollen lips before he presses them to you again with a growl.

It’s a much quicker kiss, and he breaks away to drop to his knees and push your skirt up to your hips. You have to lean back with both hands clenching the edge of the table not to fall over in shock.

He nuzzles against the soft cotton of your panties and groans at the smell of your wet cunt. He mouths at it gently over the fabric before hooking his finger around the gusset and pulling it aside to part your lips with his tongue. 

“Not fair,” you gasp as he feasts. “I was supposed to—supposed to do that for you.”

“You said whatever I want, darlin’,” he says against your pussy, chasing the taste of you. 

“Fuck,” you pant. “Fuck.” 

“Gimmie one and I’ll let you suck my cock if ya want it so bad,” he says, plunging two thick fingers in and basking in the way you squeal and squirm. He doesn’t give you a chance to adjust, pistoning in and out like he’s trying to win a race. 

It works, with his tongue on your clit and his fingers against that soft, secret part of you that no one has touched before, you gush around where he spreads you. “That’s it,” he croons, “good girl. Good fuckin’ girl, give me another.”

“You said—”

He cuts you off by sucking on your clit and your hips rock, wobbling the table as he takes another from you anyway. 

“Couch or bed?” he says, tugging your panties down your legs now that he’s sated the immediate urge. 

“Don’t care,” you say.

“Alright, bed,” he says. “Wanna do this right.” 

“Don’t think you could do it wrong,” you say, a lazy, sated smile on your face and a lightness to your eyes that he thinks he could get addicted to. 

He does let you suck his cock, and thinks maybe he could die happy from the warm, wet of your mouth and the way you look up at him like he’s the only thing in the world. 

At that moment, he is. You had resigned yourself to keeping your little crush a secret until it faded, too fond of him to risk it, but here? Now? Now that you’ve had him, you don’t think you can ever go back. 

He’s gentle in a way you can’t quite name. It’s not that he’s soft with you, but just aware. Like he knows where you’re capable of meeting him and settles there. He makes room for himself in you like you’d done for his coat, opening you up and stuffing you until you’re warm and full and renewed. 

He doesn’t leave you to stitch yourself up, either. He buries his face in your tits and holds you tight after, cleans the both of you up with a warm towel, and kisses you before he leaves.

Neither of you want him to go, but he’s got Ellie at home and won’t—can’t—worry her by not coming home. Not without warning. Next time, he whispers, and it carries a question and a promise. 

There is a next time. And another. And another. You think you might be in trouble. You do far less mending jobs once your evenings are taken over by Joel. You still take them, darning socks on the soft with your feet in his lap, or basking in the way he looks proud and satisfied when you use the stand to fix up bigger projects. Some of your favorite nights are when he sits and strums his guitar while you sew, just two people finding peace by creating it themselves. Together. 

So when eight months later, that tape finds its way into the VCR you’ve only used twice, you’re more than familiar with the bulking shape of him. The way his hair sticks up when he runs worried hands through it. The grip of those hands, sure and steady.

He finds you there on your third viewing. You didn’t even hear him come up the porch, didn’t realize the sun was starting to crest over the mountains, that he’d be coming by with breakfast just like he promised.

The little Joel on screen is working his way to the operating room. You’ve stopped flinching at each crack of the gun or collapsing body. 

“Where the hell did you get that?” 

You do startle when he speaks, unaware that he’d been watching you watch the tape for a minute. His voice is low and slow, something lurking beneath the baritone that trips an alarm. 

This isn’t your Joel. This is that one, the one from the TV. 

He moves like a jaguar, slinking and graceful. “Where,” he snarls, breath curling off your clammy skin, “did you get this?” His hand curls around your shoulder at the base of your neck. 

“It was on my porch,” you whisper. 

His fingers dig in a little where he holds you in place. “Try again.”

“It’s the truth, I swear. I didn’t know what it was.” 

“How much did you watch?”

“All of it,” you whisper, though it feels like the click of a lock.

“Goddamnit, baby. Why’d you have to do that?” 

There’s an actual click, the unmistakable flick of a release. 

“Joel, please,” you say, voice breaking. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“I can’t take that chance,” he says. 

He still hasn’t brought the knife close to you, though, so you hazard a glance over your shoulder. You wish you hadn’t. He’s gone, his sweet eyes dead to the world, no whisper of his gentleness to be found. 

“I swear, please. You can trust me.” 

“Can’t trust anyone in this world, darlin’. You shoulda realized that by now.”

*title from "Through Glass" by Stone Sour

[sehtoast]

Tender Threads CH2 ( Homelander x OC )

chapter two: signed and sealed

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: benjamin knows full well he's out there, watching and waiting, even doing a little breaking and entering. homelander is simply biding his time until he gets his way.

Benjamin’s personal life had always been a simple one.  With little to no time to truly be, there wasn’t much drama to get mixed up in– well, there used to be.  Back when he tried to have the best of both worlds, there was… a lot.  Failed relationships, friends walking out on him, family shunning him for his absences, unreliability, and perceived short temper that was truly just pure exhaustion.  It was one hell of a cocktail, but sometimes the loneliness was worse.  It was hard to see the few people who still talked to him, and harder still to make time to call his folks, but somehow those relationships survived.

Worse yet was his track record with jobs.  Delivery boy was optimal given his particular skill set, but showing up on time with every little disturbance was beyond difficult.  Table waiting jobs were even worse, and he’d lost a fair few.  These days he supplements income with side photography while primarily working an IT job at a small tech firm that he probably wouldn’t have gotten without a friend putting in a good word.

Moving to New York with his best friend from college was a decision he wouldn’t undo, but it wasn’t without its strife.  If not for his friend, good ol’ Jason Ortega, Ben would’ve fallen through the cracks so many times. Eventually they split from their cozy roommate situation after Jase got a girlfriend, but there were no hard feelings.  In fact, he was the only person in the world who knew about Ben’s little secret.

The two worlds of Benjamin's life were starting to collide bit by bit.

“You met Homelander!" 

“Shh! Not so loud!”  Ben stresses, eyes wide.  They’re on their first coinciding lunch break in a while, and they'd decided to pop a few blocks down to a sub shop for their first hangout in damn near three weeks.  “Yeah, just–”

“And you worked with him, right?” Jason asks, leaning forward eagerly, food all but totally forgotten.  “That’s what all the articles are saying.”

“No, I–” Benjamin releases a heavy sigh.  He knows about those.  It’d been two weeks since Homelander propositioned him, and… well. 

It had been an interesting two weeks.

“It wasn’t like that.”  Ben says, mind wandering back…

Bodega Burglary Botched!  Spidey and Homelander Team Up, had been Vought News Network’s big headline of the day the morning after the confrontation in the alley.  Ben pretty much choked on his bowl of Maeve-O’s when the segment ran on his TV.  

“Boy, I’ll tell ya,” Homelander said, smiling perfectly for the camera.  “That Spider-Man is exactly what we need in The Seven.  After last night, I really do see why people say he looks out for the little guy.”

Ben must have looked quite the sight standing there in his boxers, spoon dangling from his mouth. Did he have bedhead or was his hair just showing how absolutely fucking insane he felt in the moment? 

“I can’t think of anyone better to fill Translucent’s shoes.  So, Spidey, if you’re seeing this: you’ve got my vote buddy!”

“You mother fucker…” Ben murmured.  This was a power play unlike anything he could’ve imagined.  This wasn’t just for PR– though it definitely was.  This was a way to turn the public onto the idea.  To make sure the wall crawler would be reminded of the offer everywhere he went.  

Which is precisely what happened.  And now it was happening in his personal life, which was even worse.  Not that Jase knew the fine details of what had happened, but…

“Man, Vought’s been hounding me for a while now.”  He explains.  “And now they sent the big dog.” 

Ben takes a moment, voice hushed, to tell Jason about all that had happened.  About how intimidating the whole thing was, how Homelander practically looked right through him, how he fucking name-dropped him despite every length the bug has gone to keep his identity a secret.

“You wanna know what else?”  Ben asks, glancing from side to side.  “I think he’s fucking stalking me.”

“Dude…” 

“Yeah, so get this…”

He spares no details.

It started off small.  Simple fly-by’s, flickers of red, white, and blue in the sky zipping by at the most random of times.  At first, it seemed like something weird in his peripherals, but then Benjamin learned to look up.  He made eye contact three days after first noticing his stalker while walking into work, and he’s not sure if that made Homelander more bold but he definitely did get worse.

Benjamin could’ve coped with the stalking. In fact, he was almost getting used to it, but then he went for the newly bought jug of milk in the fridge and found the seal cracked and roughly a quarter of the contents missing.

The lack of cup in the sink had him pouring the contents down the drain because that bastard clearly drank from the jug.  After that, subtlety went clear out the fucking door.

Ben’s apartment isn’t the neatest thing on planet Earth, but he prides himself on keeping up with his laundry.  His closet was organized, shoes kicked into a slobbishly-neat pile in said closet, and his underwear drawer was folded to perfection.

So why in the world were his boxer briefs unrolled from their tight, military-esque fold?  Why is his acoustic guitar on the stand where the electric normally sits?�� 

And why the fuck is the bed he made that morning now unmade and very obviously laid in?

Homelander had crossed a line.  This wasn't just some light stalking and intimidation, this was a Goldy Locks level violation of his privacy and space, and Ben didn’t know if it was going to end up so bad someday that he'd wake up to the fucker standing in the corner like some patriotic version of the hat man.

“And it’s still happening,” he tells Jason.  His best friend stares at him wide eyed with his mouth parted in disbelief. 

“Man, I hope you changed your toothbrush…”  He says.

“Fuck… No, but I will later, I–”  

A ringing from Jason’s phone breaks their banter and signals the end of their break.  Ben takes the opportunity to grab his own phone and type a message to him.  Eyes up when we leave.  Don’t react to this.

They pay and leave.  Sure as the sun rises in the morning, on the edge of the roof across the street stands Homelander, who smirks down at them, clearly having used that super hearing of his to listen in.

“Woah…” Jase utters.

Ben simply keeps his eyes up, watching closely as the star spangled supe gives an informal salute and takes off.

“Dude…” Jason says.  “That’s fucked.”

Yeah, Ben thinks to himself. I’m fucked.

By the end of the third week, Ben’s absolutely had it.  He can feel Homelander’s eyes piercing through the walls of his apartment building.  In fact, Benjamin knows right where he’s sitting.  He’d been laying in bed relaxing before his usual run through the city.

He hates to admit it, but… he’s given some thought to the offer.  Moral objections aside, he could make a real difference at Vought.  Plus, there’s the opportunity to try to change it from the inside out.  Maybe leak some information here or there…

Nothing he’s vocalized, of course.  He’d never risk Homelander hearing something and come barreling through the wall to laser him in two for even considering it.

But enough was enough.  These little interferences in his life weren’t going to stop, it seemed, unless he did something about it.  Ben swings his legs off the side of the bed and stares down at where his suit lays in a pile on the floor.  There was no sense in even putting the fucking mask on.  Homelander can see through it anyway.  He knows who he is, where he lives…  The jig is up as far as secrecy with Homelander goes, if there was even any to begin with.

Ben walks to the window and peers out.  Just as he predicted, Homelander is stood on the building across the street, looking almost amused at the bug’s knowledge of his location.

“Get over here,” Ben says.  He knows Homelander can hear it.  “For once, you’re being invited inside.”  With that, he opens the window.

What the fuck am I doing, Ben thinks to himself.  Fuck, I should’ve gone out, not let him in.  Fuck, fuck fuck…

It’s a curious thing to watch Homelander float through the window perfectly horizontal.  It never occurred to Ben that flying supes could do that so easily…

“Benjamin,” Homelander greets.  “Nice of you to finally extend the offer.”

The bug plops down on the edge of his bed, gesturing to his desk chair for Homelander to sit.  It’s almost comedic to watch him swish his cape out of the way to do so.

“Y’know, I can cope with you stalking me,” Ben says, getting right to the point.  “But rifling through my drawers is overdoing it.”

Homelander smiles, and it’s almost scary to see him so close in such an intimate environment.  Outside, he’s practically god.  In here he’s… scary in a different way.  Especially when Ben notices just how sharp his canines are.

“Couldn’t help it, Benny.  Besides, you’ve got some interesting things.”  Homelander turns in the chair just slightly to rap his gloved knuckles against the top drawer of Ben’s nightstand.  “Especially in here, you dirty boy.”

Ben’s cheeks flare red immediately.  Fuck, he hadn’t even considered–

“You are interesting, I’ll tell ya.” Homelander continues.  “You’re so fucking ordinary, and yet you’re about to be in The Seven.  Nothin’ to you besides that do-good moral compass of yours and some spandex.”

“What do you mean, ‘about to,’” Ben asks incredulously.  “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

Homelander gives him a smile so sinister that it practically takes a bite out of his resolve.  “Oh, I know.  But you’re going to once we’re done here, trust me.”

Ben cocks a brow.  “... explain.”

“Not yet.” 

Homelander leans to the side and snags one of those guitars he was clearly very familiar with.  “You’re a peculiar little thing, you know that?”  He says, finger plucking awkwardly at a nylon string that damn near snaps under his strength.  It makes Ben cringe a little.  “You’re so full of anxiety I can practically smell it on you, but you still have the balls to tell me no.  You’re pretty much a shut in as...” Homelander gestures vaguely to Ben to describe his secret identity.  “But then you’re such a social butterfly.  Thought you might’ve just had a thing for being stared at in spandex, but you’re quite the little ray of sunshine in the leotard.”

“I–”

Homelander holds up a finger.

“And you’re so fucking sad, little Benjamin.”  

What..? 

“You’re lonely.  Just that one buddy of yours and that strained relationship with good ol’ mom and dad… plus that cousin or whatever the boy is.”  Homelander plucks the lowest string, a deep open note reverberating through the body of the instrument.  “But you’re so sad, crying at night like you do.”

But I haven’t– 

“I can tell what you’re thinking… You haven’t had a bad night in a few weeks.”  Homelander says nonchalantly.  “What, you think I wasn’t scoping you out before that night in the alley?  Please.  I know you down to the fucking lube you use at this rate.”

“What the f–”

“Astroglide, by the way.”  He says, wiggling his brows.  “You want that spider-high you get when you’re swinging around to be permanent?  Quit your little desk job, stop being a pussy, and join my team.  Go have time to live your personal life– I don’t fucking care– just do the right thing.”

Ben’s gaze falls and he picks at his fingers.  Fucker found the sore spot and was using it to his full advantage.

“Don’t look so sad, Benny boy.  I’m offering you the relief you’ve been looking for, aren’t I?”  Homelander smiles almost genuinely.  “So exhausted all the time, too.  When was the last time you got eight hours, huh?  I’ve seen the way that little tingle in your head wakes you up all the time.  Plus all those late nights… you must be so burnt out.”

“Shut up…” Ben tries, but it comes out more sad than he means for it to.  He hates how fucking right Homelander is.

“Friends, family, rest… No more rent struggles…” Homelander sets the instrument down and turns toward Ben.  “You know what else?”  He asks, voice almost sweet.  When Ben looks at him, he grins.  “Ma and Pa will thank you when I don’t drop an oil tanker on them from orbit.”

Ben’s blood runs cold.

“Yeah, I flew by a day ago.  Nice little suburban house in Annville, right?  Pops has a nice red truck.”

No, no, no– fuck– 

“Be a shame if they had to suffer because of you, wouldn’t it?”

Benjamin sits stock still, his only movements being shakes of fear and anger.  How fucking dare he?  How dare he hold something so–

“Like I said, you will be joining The Seven.  And, if you do, no harm will come to mom and pop– I promise.” 

He knows he has no choice now.

“So, little Benjamin,” Homelander says, rising from the chair.  “What’ll it be?”

As if he has any choice.

“Fine…”

“Oh,” Homelander cocks a brow.  “What was that?  I think I need you to be a little louder.”

“Fine,” Ben says, more conviction in his voice this time.  

“Say it.  The whole thing.” Homelander demands, smile growing even wider.  “You’re gonna join The Seven.”

“I’m…” Ben sighs.  “I’m going to join The Seven.”

“Attaboy!” Homelander chirps, clapping his gloved hands together.  “Alright, buddy, get some shoes on and let's get you to the tower for your big signing day!  Did I mention you get a sign-on bonus?  Pretty killer, right?”

Dejectedly, Ben stands from the bed and slips his shoes on.

He supposes he’ll be signing his contract in his pajamas.