#how did i let my head get this clogged up

[brotherwtf]

I've a hc for omegaverse Clegan. Gale is an omega but is very smart and manipulative. John being the Alpha naturally should be having dominance over him but is very submissive when it comes to Gale. One of his friends(Curt maybe) they're like "You're an Alpha Bucky! You can't let an Omega toss you around like that" and he makes up his mind to tell Gale that he had enough of his games. Later when he meets Gale in barracks, he tries to say something but is coaxed by his sweet sent and he knows Gale is doing it on purpose. He meets his big blue eyes and look up through his lashes and pouty lips and John is like "Dammit!" And is immediately on his knees before Gale even speaks. Gale just smiles knowing he has complete control over his big bad alpha 😈

anon did you just crawl into my brain and pull these ideas out? because this is EXACTLY WHAT I NEED RIGHT NOW

----

Gale always knew he was irresistible to the alphas around him. He had a sickly sweet scent, one that clogged their brain and made them smile so prettily, bending to his whim with just the smallest smile.

He purposefully wore revealing clothing around other alphas, showing off his waist and his ass so that they couldn't possibly resist scenting and marking him up.

It worked especially well with John. John who seemed like he never had the comfort of an omega in his life, smiled big and bright and was perfectly cocky. His scent immediately made Gale feel loopy, brought a warmth into his room that he hadn't seen from an alpha in a long time.

Gale knew from that moment that he was going to make John his.

It wasn't very hard, John seemed to fold at the attention of any omega, but he still had to work for it a little bit.

After long days on the base, Gale would purposefully make his scent sweeter so John would stay in, would urge him to crawl into the nest of sheets he made just so he could smell the thick and heady scent of an alpha. He would bat his eyelashes just so, bite his lip until it was swollen and plump, all so John would bend to his whim.

And it worked, John was bewitched, mind, body and soul by the sweetness that was Gale.

John was so willing to please his omega, wanted nothing more than for him to be happy and sated, craved that sweet sweet smell that was associated with a Gale that was content. This often meant having his knot or his cock available whenever Gale wanted it, which was often.

John didn't complain, he honestly liked being readily available for Gale whenever he needed him, couldn't complain because he felt good when Gale used him, too. It was only when Curt started asking questions that Gale started to see some doubt in Gale.

It wasn't normal, this dynamic between them. Alphas were supposed to be the ones in control, domineering over their omega and forcing them to do what they wanted, not the other way around.

So when Curt notices how readily John bends to Gale's commands, alarm bells instantly go off in his head. This wasn't normal, omegas weren't supposed to be this controlling.

He tried to bring it up to John a couple of times in passing, would point at omegas and off-handedly mention how good and submissive they were, man how he wished he had an omega like that, and hey? how's your omega doing? And John just says he's good, he treats him well, and Curt's just so confused.

Even after he tries to subtly push that John and Gales relationship wasn't normal, John wasn't catching the bait. So one day, he just goes outright and says it.

"It's not normal! An omega, pushing an alpha around? Bucky, you gotta say something. Put him in his place!" Curt says and it makes John think.

It wasn't normal, what was going on between him and Gale. He didn't see any other alphas get so easily pushed around by their omegas, didn't see them fall so easily to their whim. So he decides he's going to say something to Gale, to try and make their dynamic more normal.

Once John's back in the dorms, he can already smell Gale's scent, something more sickeningly sweet than usual. It makes John's heady, but he holds his ground, goes up to Gale and stands firm.

"Gale, I'm thinking that you're taking too much control for an omega. I am your alpha, your mate, I feel like I should have more control here," John says, and it almost looks like Gale believes him.

Gale's definitely shocked, mouth slightly agape as he looks John up and down. But then his face splits into a coy smile, and the room gets somehow sweeter.

"Really? Am I being too controlling? I'm sorry darling, I swear I'll stop, forgive me?" Gale says, looking up through his lashes and John knows, he just fucking knows that Gales controlling him.

He wants to fight back, wants to tell Gale to fuck off, but Gales sat on the bed, spreading his legs and beckoning for John to crawl between them, and who is Gale to deny his omega?

[pl4n]

clouds

[starpros-sunshine]

Sometimes I wonder why cold symptoms always get worse in the evenings there has to be a logical explanation for that

[fingertipsmp3]

Someone needs to put me down like a sick dog

[earthtooz]

x : NOT JEALOUS ! :*+ﾟ

in which: alhaitham isn't jealous, he doesn't get jealous, so what is this suffocating feeling in his chest that only happens when you're talking to another man that isn't him?

warnings: 5.4k words, jealous!alhaitham x gn!reader who has loads of rizz, university!au, fluff with angst but happy ending, pining!alhaitham who doesn't realise that he loves you, kaveh is there, mention of cyno, ooc at some bits?, swearing, alhaitham is a little bit of an asshole at some parts sawry. he's bad with feelings.

a/n: inspired by @danijaci's jealous jealous boy comic with alhaitham! hi dani if you're reading this pls don't perceive me... hides... but i hope you all like it :,)

Alhaitham isn’t jealous. 

The uncomfortable feeling obstructing itself in his throat is just because he’s beginning to develop a sore throat- that’s all. It is flu season after all, who knows what kind of bacteria are in the air? Ones capable of lathing an uncomfortable oil that burns inside his chest, the smog crowding its way into his heart, sickening him to his core as Alhaitham can’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation happening beside him.

“I’m free friday,” a voice besides you confirms.

“Okay!” you cheer, sounding a little too happy for Alhaitham’s liking. After all, it’s 9 am, who has this much energy in the morning? “lets do Friday then!”

“Sounds good, I’ll see you then. Bye Y/n.”

“Bye, see you!” Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as you wave to the random stranger you’ve decided to associate yourself with before finally taking the seat beside him with a sigh. 

He doesn’t say anything to you, feeling your eyes glance at him expectantly as he stares stubbornly at the lecture board instead of acknowledging you or the jumble of feelings clogging up his diaphragm. 

“Hello, you,” You lean over slightly, careful to not invade his personal space whilst waving at him, hoping to catch his attention. He glances at you, nodding in greeting before returning to his book, the pages and rows of words only fuelling his unease he suddenly felt. He doesn’t even know where he left off, the book’s events a blur in Alhaitham’s mind.

How bothersome. What’s happening to him?

“Talkative today, aren’t you?” Your tone is playful despite his cold attitude and Alhaitham sneaks another look in your direction, noting the way your lips curve upwards. “So, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, inserting a bookmark between the pages before slamming it shut, an indicator that you could keep conversing with him.

“Cool.” You tap your nails on the desks of the lecture hall. “Oh, I finished my essay the other day.”

“The one for your elective?”

You hum in agreement, “I hope I never get it back. Submitted it ten minutes before the due date.”

“You know you wouldn’t have been stressed over it if you just started it earlier-”

“I know, I know,” you huff, “spare your productivity lectures for another time, I’ll be needing them later in the semester.” The grey-haired shakes his head as you laugh, but his gaze returns to the front cover of his book as he solemnly thinks about the interaction you had with another man, right in front of him. 

(What right did he have to see you smiling so earnestly like that?)

“Who was that?” Alhaitham coughs out, barely choking down his pride in time to make space for the question.

You murmur some guy’s name that he doesn’t bother to remember. “He’s a friend of mine in the same discussion group for this course and we decided to do the assignment together. He bumped into me on the way in so we were just planning when to meet to do the research.”

“Oh.” Your answer doesn’t calm the churning in Alhaitham’s gut. Not even one bit, in fact, it makes it worse. 

But it’s not jealousy, Alhaitham doesn’t get jealous because he’s above petty feelings of inadequacy. He’s merely concerned for you, worried for your brainpower by the end of the project because your partner seems less-than-incompetent. If you’d picked someone like Alhaitham (or better yet, just picked Alhaitham), you would’ve aced the class without even blinking an eye. 

(The two of you are friends, so why didn’t you pick him? It’s literally been proven that the two of you are compatible working together since you were both executives of Sumeru’s Cultural Society, and amidst all of the activities the club has run, you’ve collaborated many times to make each event run flawlessly. So why not him? Why would you pick another man over him?)

“You know you could have picked me, I wouldn’t mind working on the assignment with you,” he grumbles, words soft but very clear.

Alhaitham misses the way your eyes widen in shock as apologies scramble out of your mouth. “I’m sorry! I automatically assumed that you wanted to work on it by yourself. Next time I’ll ask you.” 

The lecture begins before he could say anything in return and like a robot, he sets his thoughts aside and begins listening, notes document up and cursor blinking at the ready.

A mundane two hours pass by, one powerpoint slide after powerpoint slide before the lecture is finally over, much to your pleasure. Alhaitham notices the way you eagerly jump out of your seat to stretch, grabbing your bag. On the other hand, your grey-haired accomplice takes his time in packing up, forcing you to wait for him.

“Would you like to get some coffee before the meeting?” You ask.

“Sure, we can find a seat there and join it together,” he adds and you beam at him, expression bright and so enchanting that it makes him forget about all the perplexities he felt before the lecture. 

The two of you make your way to one of the many campus cafés where you practically wrestled Alhaitham to stop him from paying for both your orders (losing in the end) before sitting at a booth, your laptop set up with a pair of Alhaitham’s earphones shared between you. The meeting begins to fill up with almost all committee members, even Kaveh, who resides in his room of his and Alhaitham’s shared flat. Upon noticing him, you go to text him, with the grey-haired peeking over your shoulder from time to time to see your conversation- not that he cares that much.

(Perhaps if Kaveh glanced up from his phone, then he’d see how close Alhaitham had gotten with you, breaching the distance that he prefers to keep around others. He’d also notice the headphone sharing despite how he generally tends to keep them out of anyone else’s hands.)

You’re tasked with the role of taking notes for the meeting since Alhaitham, in your opinion, is not at all a reliable scribe. His notes tend to just include vital information and never what everyone else needs to know, yet each time you scold him for it, his unbothered expression never falters, waving your complaints off with a shrug. 

“Hey, Kaveh and I are going to go for lunch tomorrow after our classes. Care to join?” You ask, smiling at him hopefully as your messages with Kaveh sit open on your screen. Alhaitham doesn’t think twice before agreeing. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“It looks like it’s about to rain,” you murmur, pulling out a chair as Alhaitham and Kaveh take their seats opposite you. 

“So it does,” Alhaitham notes, not caring to look too long out the window before returning his gaze to you. “You have an umbrella, right?”

“I, uh, didn’t think I needed one today.”

“Do you not check the weather before you leave?”

“Not everyone’s like you, Alhaitham.” Kaveh teases. “It’s no problem, Y/n, if it rains I can walk you back to your dorm.”

“Only if you are okay with it,” you insist, “I have no problem walking home in the rain. I love the rain.”

Alhaitham intervenes with a raise of his hand. “Nonsense, you’ll catch a cold. We’ll walk you home.”

A soft but genuine ‘thank you’ slips from your lips, neither of you wiser to the way Kaveh eyes his roommate suspiciously, not missing the use of ‘we’ in his sentence and the implications the collective pronoun has. For it meant that Alhaitham is willing to take precious time out of his day to perform an act for someone that he is not indebted to do. Not that Alhaitham is inherently selfish, per se, but he is a man of routine. He wakes up every morning and takes five minutes to scribble on his stupid whiteboard in the kitchen what he has to do for the day and strictly abides by it, not even straying two minutes off schedule.

Willingly volunteering his minutes? Kaveh finds that suspicious. 

“So, how’s your architecture assignment, Kaveh?” You ask, breaking the blond from his daze whilst Alhaitham pours glasses of water for the table, starting with your cup. 

“A nightmare,” he sighs, sinking into his chair. “I still have so much to do, you know my professor didn’t like my blueprint? How ridiculous! I hope that man steps in a puddle and wets his sock.”

The grey-haired pipes up with a remark. “I can’t wait for it to be done, our living room is a mess right now.” 

“Hey, I am the one that cleans that living room, thank you very much. Your bookshelf is still a mess even though I’ve asked you to clean it five times.”

“If it bothers you so much then why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I’m the only one who-”

“-I’m going to go to the bathroom,” you murmur, cutting the conversation before shuffling out of your chair, seemingly eager to do so.

Kaveh turns to the grey-haired again, “and you just scared away Y/n.”

“Sorry no one wants to hear about your architecture project.”

“Y/n literally asked, asshole.”

A rebuttal sits on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue- as it always does when it comes to bickering with his roommate, but it dies out when an intruder comes to the table. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt,” he begins, “but the person who just got up, is that your friend?”

“Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop this off, mind passing it over for me?” The piece of paper he was holding lands in Kaveh’s hand. “Thanks, bro.” Is all he says before strolling away, out of sight but definitely not out of mind.

The blond does not hesitate to open it up, chuckling in amusement when reading the content. “’Hey you’re cute, here’s my number’ it says. What a bitch! You didn’t like his vibes either, right, Alhaitham?”

“Hold on, what does the note say?”

Grabbing (snatching) it from Kaveh, the grey-haired has half a mind to rip the note apart, a certain sense of distaste washing over him that intensifies the long he stares at the guy’s handwriting. His eye is twitching. Why is his eye twitching?

“Hey!” He hears Kaveh call. “Don’t scrunch it, that’s Y/n’s-“

Alhaitham stuffs the ball of paper into his bag where he’ll recycle it later even though something irrational within him tells him to burn it. “Y/n won’t miss it. You said it yourself, he’s a bitch.”

“Sure, but why are you doing-“

“Hey!” You interrupt, sliding back into your chair with a grin on your face. “So, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” the grey-haired murmurs, assuming his crossed-arm position. Kaveh side eyes his roommate before agreeing with a hum. “Let’s order something now. We want to beat the rain, right?”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

This meeting for the Sumeru Society might have been one of the most important ones of the year thus far, with almost every committee member expected to attend. After all, the annual ball was a big event that always had the largest turnout, and the amount of planning that goes into it to ensure its success is almost triple that of its other events.

So why weren’t you here?

“Why did you leave the meeting early on Friday?” Alhaitham asks as soon as he sees you.

You pause briefly, eyes widening and eyebrows raising. It must have been the way that Alhaitham’s voice raised a pitch towards the end of the question, demonstrating a nervous break in character that was not at all typical. Cool and collected would be the defining words to describe Alhaitham, as well as someone who does not care for the menial activities of others, so what is he doing asking you? And why does he care so much?

“I, uh, had dinner with someone,” you confess, continuing to grab your books and laptop, missing the way his features contort into something un-cool, and very un-Alhaitham.

“Whom?”

You murmur the name of some other guy, who he vaguely recalls to be your project partner.

“What?” Alhaitham snaps.

“I didn’t think missing out on some of the meeting would be a big deal! I got another committee member to explain what I missed,” you justified. “Besides, there’s no big events going on right now, so I thought-”

“-That you could abandon your tasks and go have fun with someone else?”

Alhaitham’s not really sure why he said that. He’s not angry that you skipped a meeting; there are larger things in the world to worry about, he’s angry because you spent time with another guy that wasn’t him.Why not go to dinner with him instead? He spends it every night with Kaveh, and you are far more favourable than Kaveh.  

“Is it really something to get mad over? I already told you, I got the meeting notes and everything-”

“-You’re an executive of the society, Y/n, more is expected from you.”

“Seriously?” you ask, “how come you didn’t bat an eye when the vice president wasn’t there the other day?”

“Because she was sick.” 

“Okay, fine! what about the subcommittee? they’re not always there either!” 

“They’re subcom. Whether they miss a meeting or not is not crucial.”

“So, it’s just my business that you care about?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, disbelief clouding over your expression like a mask.

Again, Alhaitham doesn’t know where these punches are coming from and why he’s throwing them against you so viciously, but his heart is tightening defensively with a burning emotion that he’s been feeling more and more recently, and his first instinct is to lash out, to protect himself from it.

Perhaps it’s because foreign things that he can’t understand terrify him and you, all you ever do is make him feel things that he’s never felt before and he can’t understand why. 

“You’re not that special.”

A flash of hurt gleams in your eyes and Alhaitham knows now that he’s royally fucked up. “You’re an ass,” you grumble, about to walk away when he intercepts.

“Listen to me!”

“Fuck off!” 

“Y/n-”

You’re gone before he can get another word out, retreating figure stomping away whilst his chest weaves into knots; something that no amount of deep breathing can calm. It doesn’t help that the minute he returns home, Kaveh is onto him like some sort of parasite, curious over the tense air surrounding his normally-composed roommate. 

“Hey, welcome home- whoa, what’s gotten into you?” The blond asks.

“None of your business,” Alhaitham grumbles through gritted teeth, taking his shoes off and throwing them aside haphazardly. Kaveh doesn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s jaw is clenched, or the strain in his hand when he brings up a hand to run through his hair, or the very subtle and minute twitch in his cheek.

The blond ignores all signs that he wants to be left alone, and instead, follows the grey-haired to his room after he swung the door open. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, let’s talk about this-”

“Talk about what?” Alhaitham growls.

“Who pissed in your black coffee today?” 

“No one. Now get lost.” 

“Aw, come on, you know what they say. Getting things off your chest is always beneficial.”

“There’s nothing on my chest, go away.”

“You sure? no stress, no deadlines, no love interest making you tear your hair out-”

“-No, no, none of those!”

“Then what?��

Alhaitham steadies himself by resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he exhales loudly. “I got pissed and took it out on Y/n, who’s mad at me now.”

“Huh? Why so annoyed?”

“Because Y/n went to dinner with another man.”

It’s silent for a while. The sassy quip that he expects from Kaveh does not happen. Instead, the blond merely smiles, a satisfied, knowing grin that slightly irks him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for the day you realise you have feelings for Y/n.” 

“What? Where did you get that conclusion from?” Alhaitham sits up straighter. There are a lot of things he knows, and he knows for sure that he does not like you in any way beyond platonic. He doesn’t have any time to spare for love. There are scholarships he still needs to apply for, internships to be interviewed for, research projects to submit- nowhere amongst the minute hand of the clock is there space for love. 

“Oh come on,” Kaveh sits down on the bed beside his roommate, leaning back on his hands. “You’re not as smooth as you hope to be sometimes.”

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

“Y’know the sooner you accept you have feelings for Y/n, the easier life will be.”

“Life is already easy and there is no sooner because I don’t like Y/n like that. Now get lost. I have stuff I need to finish.”

Kaveh shrugs, standing up with a soft ‘suit yourself’, taking seven steps before he’s out of the room. Alhaitham lets out a sigh that has lodged itself in his throat for too long, and the feeling of reprieve he gets is short-lived before he’s flooded with a certain tightness again. Maybe he did have a weight on his chest after all, not that he’d ever admit it to himself or Kaveh.

He gets up from his made bed with a grunt and decides to push aside all distractions. Time is unforgiving, and if doesn’t finish his assignment by this Friday then he’ll be a little less than pleased.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Alhaitham feels like he can’t breathe. 

You’re sitting alone at a library desk, all focused and concentrated on your laptop screen with your headphones on, blocking out any outside voice as you type away. He wonders if he should say hi, maybe try apologising for the way he acted last Monday- who is this guy that’s approaching you and why does he look so familiar? 

And why are you smiling so happily?

You beckon to the seat beside you and the guy readily complies, taking the chair beside you like he belonged there, like there weren’t other candidates that should be there instead (he’s not talking about himself. definitely not).

He hands you one of two coffee cups he’s holding. What kind of right does this guy have to give you a coffee? Does he even know your order?

He feels like a bit of creep keenly watching you interact with someone else from a balcony of the library, but the book and laptop in front of him lies forgotten, and in a rare moment of weakness, Alhaitham can’t find it in himself to return to his tasks, pursuit of knowledge momentarily forgotten. He can’t push aside the bile that threatens to rise, he can’t loosen his grip on the couch’s armrest, and he can’t blink for a second in fear of losing you from his sight.

(You’re laughing. Why are you laughing? How can you look so pretty laughing and why doesn’t he ever get to make you laugh like this?)

Alhaitham is losing his damn mind. So much so that the first thing he does when he sees you again is corner you. 

“You shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.”

You’re backed against the brick walls of the time-worn building that your shared lecture always takes place in, and Alhaitham, spotting you like a hawk, put you in this precarious position as soon as the two hours were over. 

He can’t breathe. It’s been almost three weeks since you last spoke to him and you’re staring up at him like you’ve done nothing wrong, blinking once and twice at his uncharacteristic display of subtle aggression. 

“Who?” you mutter, shaking your head to try and grasp reality once again. you hug your laptop closer to your body. “What’s this about?”

“I said you shouldn’t talk to that guy anymore.” 

“What guy?” 

“Your project partner.”

“Really?” you mutter in disbelief.

He nods, teal eyes shining at you firmly. “Really. The project’s over, you don’t need to talk to him anymore.” 

“I don’t recall ever giving you the right to dictate who gets to be in my life or not, just like how you can’t tell me what to do with my time.” 

“I’m looking out for you, so stop trying to make me sound tyrannical.” 

Your mouth hangs open as you furrow your eyebrows, growing more and more frustrated with each second. So much for thinking that he wanted to resolve the awkwardness between the two of you. “I’m not even going to argue with you,” you murmur a quick ‘jerk’ under your breath before brushing past him. 

Alhaitham, however, is not willing to let you go as easily as you wish, quick to chase after you. Not that you go far anyways, turning around to face him again in the spaciousness of the vacant hallway. “Why do you care?” You ask, exasperated. “You’re Alhaitham, you don’t let trivial things like who I hangout with bother you, you’re cool and collected and rational, and I just don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”

He doesn’t understand either, not the erratic beating of his heart, the stubbornness of his mind, nor this undisputable urge to keep you all to himself. Is it normal to want to hide someone for selfish reasons?

Trailing off, Alhaitham is slightly humiliated that for the first time in his life, someone has witnessed him coming short of an answer. No logical conclusion, no explanation, not even a satisfying quip, just plain, suffocating silence.

“Right. When you do have an answer, let me know.” You walk away.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Your last rebuttal still weighs heavily on Alhaitham’s mind, even two days later as he and Kaveh are seated for a lecture in a shared course. His thoughts are scrambled like never before, the messiness of it all making him feel uneasy because for once, he doesn’t have an appropriate answer to a question.

Why was he acting like a temperamental teenager? What you did with your life was up to you, and indeed he has no right trying to change that. More importantly, why was it so hard to apologise for the stuff he said-

“So, how’s everything between you and Y/n?” 

Kaveh turns to him with widened eyes whilst Alhaitham’s poker face doesn’t move an inch, deceivingly apathetic.

“Good, we’ve been hanging out a lot more recently,” the other guy says, who Alhaitham quickly recognises to be your project partner and distaste rises in his stomach like bile. 

“Aye, good for you, man! So when are you going to ask Y/n out?”

“No way, bro, not yet. I’m such a wimp, but I hope I grow the balls to ask soon because I really like-”

“-looks like you got some competition!” The blond nudges Alhaitham, and if it were anyone else, they would not have glanced twice at the grey-haired who seemed unmoving and uninterested. However, Kaveh is not anyone else because he noticed the darkened look in Alhaitham’s eyes instantly, anger seeping into his composed gaze as his nose scrunches in disgust. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“So, you and Alhaitham still aren’t talking?” Kaveh asks, leaning on the table of the restaurant with curious ears, hoping that he can grab some answers out of you as to why there was a stalemate between you and his roommate.

“Nope,” you sigh. 

“Why not?”

“I’m just-” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “I’m just waiting on an apology from him.”

“An apology? Why? What did he say?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“You know how he is. Always insufferably secretive, so no, I don’t know anything that happened.” 

“Alhaitham just said some hurtful things to me, and he was being weird when I told him I was going to dinner with a friend of mine. Just kept being in my business.”

“Really?” The architecture student quirks a brow, confusion plastered on his face. “That’s not like Alhaitham at all.”

“I know, right? He kept trying to be like ‘don’t hang out with him’ and ridiculed me for not playing my part as an executive of the Sumeru society,” you complained, “like sorry I have other things I want to do.”

Kaveh nods in understanding as the conversation briefly stops when the waiter comes to drop off utensils at your table. As soon as they were gone, however, you begin again.

“And even though he was all up in my business, trying to tell me what not to do, he then said that I wasn’t special, which is so confusing because like-”

“-hold on. Alhaitham said that you weren’t special?” You nod at his parroted claim. “To him?” 

“Yeah. Stung like shit when he said that, especially since I thought we were friends but guess not,” you murmur sadly, fiddling with the fork.

Later that night, almost immediately after meeting you over dinner, Kaveh barges into his roommate’s room, not even changing out of his outside clothes. The sudden intrusion shocks Alhaitham who was busy typing on a document, textbook splayed open beneath him but momentarily forgotten as the blond takes a seat on the bed.

“What the- not even a hello?” The grey-haired asks, confused by this uncharacteristic silence of Kaveh’s. It’s pretty normal for the blond to barge into his room without notice, but it was not normal for him to be so quiet, practically brooding on the mattress. “Whatever. Where have you been? Have you eaten yet, because I made-”

“When will you just confess to Y/n?”

The mention of your name causes a spike in Alhaitham’s heartbeat and he swivels around instantly, attention fully directed towards his roommate. “Where is this coming from?”

“Y/n told me everything that happened between you two by the way-”

“-what, when?”

“Tonight, we just met for dinner.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“What would you have done if you knew? Showed up and made things worse?” He doesn’t say anything in retaliation, merely shutting his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows. “Why did you say that Y/n wasn’t special to you?” 

“I didn’t,” Alhaitham sighs, very loud and very perplexed. “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.”

“Don’t you miss Y/n? You two used to hangout so often.”

“I do, of course I do!” He exclaims, burrowing his face in his hands. 

“So why aren’t you apologising?” 

“Because whenever I’m around Y/n, I’m not who I normally am,” he mutters, “especially everything whenever that project partner is around-”

“Jealous, much?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Oh come on, you’re ridiculous. Stop pushing away your feelings and just be honest with yourself, Alhaitham! Y/n is not just a friend to you and you know it.”

“But, we are just friends-”

“So you mean to tell me that if I hung out with someone else- like if I hung out with Cyno, you would be pissed?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why is it different with Y/n?” Once again, Alhaitham doesn’t have an answer to the question, sitting as still as a statue hunched over his desk. “Fine, I’ll spell it out to you. You like Y/n, more than just a friend!”

The silence leftover from Kaveh’s outburst is tense and full as the grey-haired lets the words sink in. 

“I’ll let you think about it,” the blond murmurs, voice softening dramatically as he stalks out of the room. Before he closes the door, however, he leaves a few final words. “Just- be honest with yourself, Alhaitham, and I wouldn’t delay trying to talk to Y/n.”

A sharp click rings through the room.

Alhaitham is no stranger to being alone, for who needs the company of others when you are happiest by yourself? Yet, in the weeks that you have not been speaking to him, a cardinal urge as been growing each and each day, wanting him to do something so atypical of him: to reach out and make the first move. Every passing day doesn’t lessen the thoughts that plague his mind, rather, they make him more and more impatient, because what if you get swept away by your project partner? 

(What if he’ll be too late? What if you won’t know of these powerful emotions that are steering through the storm in his heart? What if you won’t know just how badly he was been wanting you- wanting to see you, wanting to apologise, wanting to see you beam at him like you always would.

What if you won’t know that he adores you, especially now that he’s figured it out?).

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A rain droplet falls and lands on your nose, another lands on your forehead, then another lands on your lip then more and more keep falling from the cloudy sky, falling through the leaves and landing on the bench you were currently sitting on. Goodness, you should have checked the weather before leaving your dorm. Why was it now out of all times that it had to rain, what would Alhaitham think after he finally decided to reach out to talk?

Taking your phone out to message the grey-haired about relocating, an umbrella is suddenly held over you, stopping the gentle drizzle from falling onto you. Looking up, you’re greeted by a familiar face that you have been missing too much recently.

“Hello, you,” you breathe, voice gentle and quiet and Alhaitham feels like he can finally breathe after so long, the scent of rain washing away all perplexion.

He nods at you in greeting before offering you the bouquet of flowers he was holding. A gorgeous arrangement of pink of white stare prettily at you and a man even more gorgeous expects you to accept it.

“For me?” You ask.

“For you.”

“Thank you, they’re so beautiful,” you take his gift with gentle hands, holding it close to your chest. 

“I want to apologise,” he firmly states, getting straight to the point; very Alhaitham of him. “For treating you the way I have been recently.”

You beam at him, so bright and so gorgeous that it renders him speechless, a feat pretty difficult when it comes to someone like Alhaitham who has a whole dictionary of words, in multiple languages too. Somehow, they all flock out of his mind the second you smile at him.  

“I accept your apology, thank you for reaching out, must have been hard for someone like you, huh?” You tease, standing up from the bench.

“Well, I had do for someone as special as you.” The grey-haired’s voice is deceivingly confident and assured, but you know better, especially when he looks away to hide his expression with his neatly styled bangs. 

“No need for the flattery, you know, I’ve already forgiven you.” There’s a moment of silence that occupies the air, caused by Alhaitham’s hesitation as he fishes his brain for the courage to ask you out. You speak before he can get a word out, however. “I got asked out the other day.”

“By your groupmate?”

“He has a name, you know, but, yeah. I rejected him, though,” you laugh awkwardly, almost like you were trying to cope with it by playing it off. “Did you know that he would do that?” 

“Yes. I did.”

“Is that why you were so adamant on me not hanging out with him?”

“I guess you could say that. We can talk more about it another time,” he tells you, voice gentle and caring to mask the subtle hit of jealousy he feels in his chest, scolding himself for letting someone else confess to you before him. However, it’s a minute sensation in comparison to the triumph Alhaitham feels knowing that you rejected the other party. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“We do, but I want to ask you something first.” 

You nod, hugging the bouquet closer to your chest, anticipation heavy in the air as you spur him to continue. 

“If I asked you out, would you reject me too?”

A mere second passes by where you don’t respond, yet the second stretches out to what feels like eternity as Alhaitham’s stomach churns. Patience is something he doesn’t lack, but how can he be patient when his heart wants you so bad? 

Then, you take his hand, and the heavens sing at the feeling of your hand in his. “I wouldn’t, but are you asking me out?”

“Are you free right now?”

“I am. Why?”

“Let’s go out then. On a date.”

“I'd love to.” You rise up to place a lingering kiss on his cheek, one that has his heart racing with joy rather than frustration.

The smile you earn is gentle, shy, but says more than Alhaitham's words ever can.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 6,924 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the prison Warnings: language, mild gore (killing walkers), really none! it's mostly fluff! Summary: Daryl realizes how touch-starved he's been and exactly who he wants to satisfy that with. Really just sweet, vulnerable Daryl.[he is baby in this fic 100%]

Daryl startled awake, shooting straight up on his bed.

“Wow! Sorry! I was trying to wake you up gently!”

He looked up at her with a steely glare. Then he let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, the frantic alarmed feeling passing quickly as he realized it was just Carol. “The hell ya wakin’ me up for at all? I didn’t fall asleep until the sun was nearly up,” he growled, swinging his legs down over the edge of the bed and planting his feet on the floor. He still had his boots on.

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Sorry… but I really could use a hand. The water line is clogged up with mud again. The others are going to keep the herd on the fence occupied and thin the numbers down while I try to clear it. I could use you to watch my back.”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, alrigh’. Just gimme a few minutes. I’ll meet ya out in the yard.”

“Okay, Pookie” she teased him, smiling. She reached to affectionately smooth a hand over his tousled hair but he deflected it hurriedly and shot her another look that made her laugh. “I’ll see you in a minute,” she chuckled.

“Yeah, go on and get outta here… Pain in my ass,” he grumbled, climbing to his feet.

As Carol’s footsteps retreated outside his cell, he glanced at his reflection in the cracked mirror hanging on the cell wall. His hair was a mess and he did what he could to hastily smooth it with his hands before abandoning the effort with a grunt. He hurriedly grabbed his crossbow and fixed his knife in its sheath at his hip. Relacing his boots to make sure they were tight, he called it good and made his way through the prison.

As he stepped outside into the sunlight, he could already see that things were busy despite the early morning hour. Rick and Carl were in the garden plots with Hershel and everyone else seemed to either be chopping and stacking firewood or working down on the fence. It was rare for Daryl not to be the first one awake and it left him feeling off-balance. He hadn’t been sleeping hardly at all and it must have finally added up to pure exhaustion since he’d actually caught a few hours until Carol woke him.

His blue eyes, squinted against the light, searched for you out of subconscious habit. He spotted you alongside Glenn and Maggie on the fence. He felt his heart skipping a beat.

The gravel crunched under his boots as he headed to meet Carol who was waiting at the gate that led to the alleyway between the fences. She greeted him with a tight smile. “Ready?”

“Yep. Good to go,” he replied.

Carol opened the gate and Daryl followed her in. Soon they were passing by you, Glenn, and Maggie putting down walkers through the chainlink.

“Are you alright, Daryl?” Maggie called out, shading her eyes with a gloved hand. “I thought maybe you were sick or somethin’,” she said.

“Yeah, unusual for any of us to be up before you,” Glenn agreed, leaning on the metal rod in his hand.

“Christ, ev’rybody’s got somethin’ to say about it,” Daryl retorted. “Can’t a man get a couple hours of sleep for once?”

You turned after putting down a particularly large and loud walker, gore dripping off the end of the sharpened makeshift spear in your hand and you wiped at the stray strands of your hair that were sticking to your face with your arm. You skin was already glistening with sweat despite it being far from the hottest part of the day. You smiled at Daryl, squinting against the sun. “I didn’t say anything,” you laughed.

“Yeah, well thanks for that,” Daryl said, meeting your eyes. “Yer the only damn one…” He gulped, always a little nervous when your full attention was on him.

“Alright, alright,” Carol said, laughing. “I think we’ve teased poor Daryl enough for actually sleeping. Just keep the herd down this end, away from the water line, okay? We’re heading out to clear it now.”

You all nodded and returned to the task at hand. Daryl couldn’t help glancing back at you over his shoulder a few times, until he slipped out of the hole to the outside behind Carol and closed it back up behind him, lacing the sturdy wire back through the fencing and pulling it tight.

Carol pulled the water line up out of the creek and began twisting apart sections of it to clear out the mud and muck. “Yuck… no wonder we were hardly pulling any water in,” she said, shaking a particularly large chunk of red Georgia clay out of the nozzle.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed, chewing on his bottom lip. His eyes scanned the surrounding tall grass and trees for any approaching stray walkers, but he found that they continually seemed to return to you on the fence almost on their own.

“Hey. Hey!” Carol was suddenly laughing. “Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” Daryl’s eyes snapped back to her. “Sorry.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and a small, perhaps slightly knowing, smile curved her lips. “Distracted?” she asked.

He shifted. “Are ya done?”

Carol laughed to herself again and dusted off her hands. “Yeah, I think so.” She walked back to the stream with the end of the hose and dropped it back into the creek. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” she asked as the two of them started back up the slope toward the fence.

Daryl shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe work on my bike. Probably due for a tune-up,” he drawled, slinging his crossbow back over his shoulder.

She nodded. “Sorry I woke you up. I was shocked you were still sleeping to be honest. I waited around a bit but—"

“Nah, s’alrigh’. I probably needed to get up anyway,” he replied, glancing ahead toward the fence again. The herd of walkers was dwindling with the efficient work of you and the others but the bodies were piling up on the outside now. Clean-up duty would be needed.

“Well, you should head inside and eat something,” Carol said. “I know you haven’t had anything yet today.”

He ran a hand back through his hair and nodded. “Yeah… maybe in a bit. I think ‘m gonna start pilin’ up those carcasses. We’ll need to burn ‘em later and it ain’t no good havin’ ‘em up against the fence, attractin’ new walkers.”

Carol stopped. “Oh. Yeah, true. I’ll help. Looks like they’re about done anyway,” she said.

He nodded and they strode over, dew down in the longer tufts of grass wetting their boots and hems. There were maybe six walkers left clawing at the fence and they were quickly cut down to three as he and Carol approached on the outside. Daryl pulled his gloves from his back pocket and tugged them on as Carol walked over, watching the last upright body fall onto the pile a moment later.

“How’s the water line?” you asked, gripping the fence, the tips of your fingers poking through.

“Should be all cleared out now,” Carol said. “Nice work,” she said, referring to the pile of bodies at her feet. “Daryl and I will start pulling these away from the fence and piling them to be burned.”

“Alright. I’ll come help,” you said, setting down the metal rod you’d been wielding and briefly wiping at the sweat glistening on your forehead with your forearm again.

“You sure? You’ve done more than your fair share of hard labor today,” Carol said. “Looks like Maggie and Glenn are already heading back up to rest.”

“Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t mind,” you said. “It’ll go faster with three of us.”

“Alright. Come on out! Thanks,” Carol said, giving you a grateful smile.

You nodded and hurried to let yourself out the makeshift opening to the outside. Daryl had already dragged away four bodies in the time it took for you to make your way over. You offered him a wide smile that had his heart jumping and he paused before he grabbed another walker, lacing the fingers of his gloves together in a nervous gesture. “Ya alrigh’?” he drawled. “Ya ain’t gotta help with this. Ya did a lot of work on them from the other side,” he said. Your cheeks and chest were flushed red with heat and effort and the cotton of your t-shirt was clinging to your damp skin.

You shrugged. “I’m all good. It’ll get done sooner this way,” you said. He watched your eyes flickering up over his face a couple times and he became suddenly self-conscious.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

You laughed lightly. “Oh—it’s just—you’ve got this one piece of hair sticking up—it’s been defying gravity since you first came out here. I’m just a little surprised it’s still hanging in there,” you joked. You pulled your gloves off and stepped up to him. “It’s just sticking straight up,” you laughed again, attempting to smooth it gently.

An electric shiver ran up Daryl’s back as your fingers combed through his hair. “What’s it matter?” he drawled, attempting to sound gruff and not what he was actually feeling… which was completely jittery. “Ain’t like ‘m tryin’ to win a beauty contest out here.”

“Oh, so you want to be a unicorn? Got it,” you teased him, redoubling your efforts and using both hands and your fingernails to try to combat the stray strand, but it only sprung right back up. You laughed again, your eyes crinkling at the corners. A fluttery feeling burst between Daryl’s lungs. You sighed and shook your head, stepping back and crossing your arms, surveying him. “Nope. Won’t cooperate. I guess you are stuck as a wild unicorn today,” you said. “At least until it comes in contact with a wet comb.”

“Comb? I dunno if I’ve even got one of those,” he joked. “Thanks for tryin’,” Daryl said, half-sarcastically. You only flashed him another grin. You pulled your gloves back on and headed back to the fence to grab a walker. Carol stopped beside Daryl and he grabbed the body she was dragging by the ankles and helped her swing it onto the newly-formed pile. She gave him an appraising look when she stood up, her eyebrows lifting slightly. “What?” he asked.

“No, nothing,” she said, smiling vaguely. But it certainly wasn’t lost on her that when she had attempted to ruffle his hair, her hand had been pushed away brusquely.

Daryl ducked his head and went back to work. You were still at the fence when he walked up beside you. You were attempting to untangle a disgusting mass of limbs to pull a single walker out. Your nose wrinkled and you let out a noise of disgust. “I don’t think I will ever get used to the smell of them,” you mused aloud.

Daryl looked up, about to respond, but suddenly your feet went out from under you and you were landing hard on your back, all the breath pushed out of your body. “Y/N!”

There was a surprisingly strong hand that had emerged from the pile of bodies gripping your ankle and low, muffled growls emanated from a walker beneath the heap that was not quite dead.

Daryl jumped into action immediately, stomping his boot down onto the grasping arm until it released you and then quickly tugging you away by gripping you under the arms. He collapsed down on the ground behind you and you came to rest partially against him, still gasping for air as your lungs had not yet returned to normal, still seized up from the fall. You found yourself completely unaware that you were laying back against his chest as you just focused on trying to breathe. Daryl didn’t dare move.

Carol came running over at full speed. “Oh my God! Are you okay?!”

All you could do was nod urgently, unable to talk still. You pressed a hand to your chest and willed your lungs to start drawing in air again. Your heart was pounding.

“Fucker didn’t scratch ya ,did he? Please, tell me he didn’t…” Daryl gasped. “Carol, check her ankles quick!”

Carol quickly bent over you and looked, sighing with relief. “No, she’s clean.”

It was about that time that your lungs started working again and you realized you were sort of on top of Daryl. “Oh, shit,” you breathed, sitting up and turning. “I’m sorry. I—I’m leaning on you,” you said hurriedly.

Daryl shook his head, his brow still furrowed deeply. “S’alrigh’. Are ya okay? Ya sure?”

You nodded, trying hard to slow your breathing and heart rate. “I’m okay. Just startled me more than anything.”

Daryl climbed to his feet and offered you his hand. He pulled you up. You both watched as Carol kicked a body aside and plunged her knife into the head of the walker that had grabbed you and was still moving. “Got him,” she said, straightening up, her knife dripping blood onto the grass.

It was then that you realized your hand was still in Daryl’s. He hadn’t let go. You could feel the calluses on his palms from digging with the shovels the week before and the calluses on his fingertips from drawing back his crossbow. His thumb was closed gently over the back of your hand. He seemed to have realized then that the moment had passed when he should have relinquished his gentle hold on you and he suddenly drew back, wiping his hand on his pants as if that would rid it of the electric tingle on his palm. “Are ya sure yer okay?” he asked again.

“Fine. I’m fine… just knocked the wind out of me for a minute,” you said.

“How was that one not dead?” he growled, moving to peer down at the body.

“Here,” Carol said, pointing at the neck. “Looks like whoever was trying to put it down just missed the back of head.”

Daryl straightened up, looking worried still. “We’ll have to remind ev’rybody to be more careful on the fence. What if somebody had gotten bit ‘cuz that fucker wasn’t quite dead?”

“It could’ve been my fault,” you said quickly. “I was working the fence too.”

“Well, I doubt ya need the reminder now,” Daryl said seriously, giving you a concerned look. You only nodded. “Look, why dun ya just head back up to the prison for a bit. Get outta the sun and get some water.”

You cocked your head as you looked at him. “What? No,” you laughed. “You think that’s enough to scare me off? Hell no, Dixon,” you said, already smiling at him again. “Let’s get this shit done.”

Carol smiled and shrugged. “You heard her, Dixon,” she teased, leaning down to grab another corpse by the wrists and pull it away.

The pile moved away from the fence and ready to be burned, you and Carol were about to start back to the prison when there was a rustling in the brush nearby. A scraggly looking walker wandered out and started toward the group of you, reaching up with hands that were missing several fingers.

Daryl unsheathed his knife with a well-practiced movement. “I got it,” he said, jogging over to put it down with a skillful stab to the head. He paced back, wiping his knife on his pants. “I’ll ask Rick where he put the gas/oil mixture for burnin’ this later. Ain’t no reason we gotta do it in this sun. Let’s head back up,” he drawled.

You nodded in agreement and pulled your gloves off, glancing at him with a half-smile. “Hey, do you have your bandana on you?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he said pulling it out from his back pocket and offering it to you. “Why?”

You took it, stepped in close to him, and dabbed at a spray of blood on the side of his neck from the walker he’d just put down, wiping it away. “You didn’t feel it?” you laughed. “Apparently it was a juicy one.” You held his bandana out to him again.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling his face flush a little with heat. He noticed Carol watching the interaction with that same vague smile on her face. He ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Alrigh’. Let’s head back inside them fences… One close call is more than enough for today.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Daryl saw you again in a few hours, he could tell you’d cleaned up after your morning shift on the fence. Your hair was down, framing your face and was shining in the sun. There was no more sweat or grime clinging to your skin anymore. You waved as you caught his eyes already on you and he gulped as you made your way over.

Daryl, on the other hand, was still just as filthy as he had been when you all left the pile of walkers outside the fence behind, perhaps moreso. His hands were covered in oil and grime from working on his bike. He felt suddenly self-conscious as you stopped beside him in your fresh clothes.

“I was looking for you,” you said.

“Me?” Daryl straightened up next to his bike.

“Yeah. Carol said you haven’t eaten anything all day,” you said pointedly, your eyebrows lifting.

He shrugged. “Just ain’t gotten around to it yet, I guess,” he drawled, fiddling with the tool in his hands.

“I see. You’re just entirely too busy to take care of yourself?” you retorted. As you talked, you reached out and wiped away a smudge of oil on his forearm casually.

Daryl, however, couldn’t be casual about the spark he’d just felt from that little touch of your fingertip. It jumped up to his arm and seemed to have made its way to his heart, because it was now racing. He gulped.

“Well, what if I fix you a bowl of something and bring it out? You worked hard this morning. You should eat,” you said, cocking your head at him. “We can’t have you suddenly passing out out here and faceplanting onto the cement,” you teased him.

He fixed his blue eyes on you for a long moment. “Ya ain’t gotta do that. ‘M almost done out here. I can come in and—”

You grabbed his arm again and Daryl almost stepped backwards from the way his body seemed to react to your touch again. It was nearly overwhelming. “Daryl, what I asked was if you would eat it if I brought it out. It’s a simple question,” you said, shooting him a playful look. “So?” Your hand was still on his arm. It was light and gentle, but he could feel the softness of your skin. He stared at it for a long second and then managed to clear his throat enough to respond. “Y—yeah, I’d eat it, I guess.”

“Good,” you said, nodding. “I’ll be right back then.” You disappeared back inside.

Rick happened to wander by carrying the gas can for burning the pile of walkers just a minute later. Daryl was bent over his bike, muttering expletives under his breath. “Ho—watch out!” Rick said suddenly, and Daryl shot up as he felt Rick’s hand brush his back.

Daryl jumped, spun around, and shook him off. “What the hell, man?” Daryl growled.

Rick laughed and held his hand up, palm out. “Sorry! You had a huge horsefly on your back! You’re welcome.” He shook his head. “With that reaction next time I might just let you get bit,” Rick joked.

Daryl shook his head. “Sorry. Ya just startled me is all.”

“It’s alright,” Rick replied. “I’ll go take care of those bodies.” He gestured with the gas can.

Daryl nodded. “Alrigh’. Be careful out there. Fire will probably bring more of ‘em in.”

“I’ll take Glenn out with me,” Rick said, and then he was off.

A moment later you were back with a bowl of food for him. It was some kind of noodles with some venison and a few fresh tomatoes from the garden. “Alright. Break time, Daryl,” you demanded. “I need to make sure you actually eat, since apparently you won’t.”

Daryl tugged his bandana from his back pocket and mopped at the oil on his skin the best he could.

You set the bowl in his hands and your fingertips brushed his skin. You didn’t seem to notice. For Daryl it was impossible not to. “Thanks,” he murmured, grabbing a seat on a nearby concrete block.

“No problem.” You came and sat down next to him, sighing good-naturedly and looking out over the green grass of the yard. Rick was just lighting up the pile of walkers outside the fence. A breeze was blowing the tops of the trees around, sending the leaves fluttering and changing their hues. Fluffy clouds drifted by lazily.

Daryl dragged a hand across his mouth. “Mmm. S’good. Thanks,” he murmured, hurriedly taking another bite. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d started eating.

You smiled at his voracious eating habits and leaned your chin on your hand, your elbow propped on your knee. You reached over again with your free hand and attempted to smooth that same stubborn strand of his hair that had been sticking up all day. Goosebumps rose up Daryl’s back.

“Thought ya gave that up as a lost cause,” Daryl said through a mouthful, holding absolutely still while your fingers were in his hair.

“I did. Was just… I don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling. “I kind of like it.”

He shot you a look like you were crazy.

“What?” you laughed. “It’s endearing!”

“Yer nuts,” he joked, ducking his head again and turning back to his food. He didn’t see you biting your bottom lip as you looked at him, a fond and soft light in your eyes.

_ _ _ _ _ _

That evening, most of the group was gathered around a bonfire out in the yard. You’d all roasted scraps of venison from a deer Daryl had shot the day before, supplemented with vegetables from the garden and everyone was full and happy. Carol was rocking Judith and cooing over her. Maggie, Glenn, and Beth were playing a rowdy game of cards. Rick and Carl seemed content to watch the people they loved enjoying themselves and you and Hershel were off to one side talking about plans for fall crops when cool season time rolled around again.

Daryl was the only one who had wandered away by himself and seemed to be standing watch on one of the guard platforms. You noticed his broad-shouldered silhouette against the sky and excused yourself.

He turned at the sound of steps on the rattling metal stairs and straightened up when he saw you come around the corner.

You looked up and smiled at him and his heart jumped. “Hey,” you greeted him.

“Hey. Everythin’ alrigh’?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. You came to stand beside him at the railing and leaned forward on your forearms. “You okay? Were we all too rowdy down there?” you asked.

“‘M good. Just thought somebody should be on watch, ya know?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, nodding.

“It doesn’t always have to be you though,” you said. “You take on a lot. You’re allowed to relax too. Your worth as a person isn’t tied to what you can do for the group.”

He looked at you with a semi-startled expression on his handsome face.

“And I see now that you needed to hear that,” you said your eyebrows lifting. “It’s true.”

You turned and looked back out over the shadows settling into the yard and the warm orange glow illuminating your found family.

Daryl was chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. He lifted a hand to rub at his right shoulder, wincing a little as he rotated it.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nah, s’nothin’. I must’a tweaked it when I was movin’ my bike this afternoon. Tha’s all. S’fine.”

“Hmm. Alright. Turn around,” you said, straightening up.

“What?” Daryl asked, one of his eyebrows quirked up with the question.

“I said turn around,” you said again.

“Why?”

“Just turn around!” you laughed. “What, are you scared of me?”

“Maybe a little,” Daryl replied, a half-smile turning up one corner of your mouth.

Your hands landed on your hips and you cocked your head at him with attitude. He surrendered and turned so his back was to you.

Your hands landed gently on his shoulders and you worked your fingers into his stiff muscles. They seemed to melt beneath your touch. “You are tense,” you said. You moved to massage his sore shoulder and you could feel that one specific spot seemed particularly tight and inflamed. Your touch became gentler and Daryl’s eyes shut. He was almost leaning into the light workings of your hands. “How’s that feel?” you asked him.

All he could get out was a satisfied hum which made you smile.

“You definitely pulled something over here. You’ll have to go easy on it for a bit.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Maybe ya can just keep doin’ that ‘til it’s all better,” he drawled.

You laughed lightly. “I take it this feels okay then,” you said.

“Mhm,” he hummed again.

You smiled to yourself. The man deserved a little TLC. After all, you had scared the shit out of him when that walker grabbed you. You’d never forget the sound of his panicked voice yelling your name.

Just then, there was more clattering on the stairs and your hands left Daryl’s shoulders as you both turned to look. Carol came around the corner and stopped short. “Oh—sorry. I hope I’m not interrupting, um, anything,” she said, smiling.

You felt your cheeks flush and Daryl was feeling the same thing in his chest and face. “No. Not at all,” you said, leaning back against the railing.

“I was just looking for Daryl,” she explained.

“You found him,” you said. “I should head back down and see if Rick needs help getting Judith down for bed anyway.” You glanced back over at Daryl and gave him a small smile. “Night. See you in the morning. Night, Carol.”

Daryl watched you go until you disappeared into the deepening darkness. Then he felt Carol’s eyes on him. He turned at looked at her and her expression and postured, crossed arms and all, could only be described as smug. “What?” he asked, nestling the edge of his thumbnail in between his teeth and biting down.

“I’m really sorry if I did interrupt something,” she said pointedly.

“Interrupt what?” he drawled, a little irritated.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “Let me just ask you something. How come eight out of ten times if I go to ruffle your hair or wipe a smudge of something gross off you, I get my hand smacked away, but Y/N always seems able to make contact, hmm?”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. He simply stared back at her. Internally though, his mind and his heart were working in overdrive.

Carol laughed. “You don’t have to answer. I think we both know why,” she said with a satisfied smile.

Daryl sighed and ruffled a hand back through his wavy hair before resuming his position leaning on the railing next to Carol.

“You do like her though, don’t you?” Carol asked.

Daryl only continued to stare out over the dark yard, chewing on his bottom lip in that signature way of his. Carol’s smile widened and she nodded.

“I thought so.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, you beat all of us awake again today. I guess everything is back to normal,” Glenn said, kindly reaching out to give Daryl a friendly pat on the shoulder as he passed him. The archer flinched and Glenn gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he said quickly.

“Oh—nah, s’alrigh’,” Daryl drawled. “Just startled me… And yeah. Hope ya slackers had a good snooze. Some of us gotta get shit done around here,” he joked, shouldering his crossbow and heading toward the door to leave.

You happened to be coming back in with Judith in your arms and Daryl nearly ran into you, stopping short to avoid the collision. You laughed and greeted him, one of your hands reflexively landing flush in the center of his chest and staying there until the two of you had side-stepped around each other.

Glenn came to sit beside Maggie again, handing her the cup of tea he’d just gotten for her. “Did you see that? How he flinched?” he asked, a little sadly, his head indicating Daryl before the archer slipped out the door.

“Mhm,” Maggie nodded. “But did ya see that?” she asked, a faint smile tugging on her lips now. She nodded toward you across the room where you were sitting with Judith.

Glenn shook his head. “No. What? I was at the stove.”

Maggie’s smile widened. “Daryl nearly ran into her. She put her hand out and it landed right in the middle of his chest and it stayed there until they made their way around each other. And it almost seemed like Daryl didn’t want to step away from her. He didn’t flinch. He may have even moved in closer. He couldn’t stop lookin’ at her,” Maggie said.

Glenn nodded slowly, his eyebrows lifting as realization dawned on him. “Well, last night… the two of them disappeared from the bonfire... You don’t think—?”

“I don’t know,” Maggie laughed jovially. “But if they aren’t, they should. Daryl needs that. And he’d be good for her too. He’s always been so protective of her and you can just tell there’s somethin’ there.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

It was late afternoon when you spotted Daryl taking a break out in the yard. He was sitting on the stump used to chop wood, the axe leaning up against the wood pile nearby. Having just finished sorting some of the newly discovered supplies with Carol, you were ready for a break yourself.

“Hey,” you greeted him, tugging another round of wood over next to him.

“Hey,” he returned, watching you take a seat beside him. He found himself wringing his hands a little nervously.

As you settled in next to him, your arm floated behind him for a moment, your palm gently rubbing across his shoulder blades, almost giving his back a gentle scratch, and then tapering off down his spine in an affectionate gesture. Daryl froze, fluttering bursting to life in his chest again. Electric tingles ran up his back. He swallowed hard. “Why d’ya do that?” he asked suddenly.

You turned and gaze him a questioning look, the small smile dying on your lips. “Do what?”

“Ya know, ya rub my back or—or try to smooth down my hair—”

Your eyes went a bit round and then your brow furrowed, casting shadows over the rich color of your irises. “Oh. Does it bother you? I’m—I’m sorry, Daryl. I probably should have asked you if you were okay with me breaking the touch barrier like that with you. I’m really sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I won’t—”

“What? No. No, it doesn’t—I, uhh—I just mean—” Fuck. How could he explain this without having to confess all his deeply held feelings for you on the spot? “It’s—it’s nice… is all,” he finished lamely.

Your expression relaxed. “Yeah?”

He nodded, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I just—I ain’t ever really had anybody that—that did that kinda stuff with me, ya know? I mean—” he broke off. He didn’t want to go there. He’d had sex. He wasn’t completely inexperienced, but it had never felt anywhere near as intimate as your fingertips brushing his arm did.

Your lips formed a soft pout and the worry lines in your forehead reappeared. “You mean, touched you… affectionately?”

He nodded a little, keeping his eyes fixed toward the horizon, unable to look at you in that exact moment. “Yeah.”

Your heart ached. You nodded. “I see…” you breathed. You paused thoughtfully for a moment. You thought of all the people in your past who had touched you with love of all kinds—your parents, your best friend, hugs from extended relatives and friends, playfully holding hands as a child, touches with past partners… To think Daryl had never really had any of that broke your heart. You turned toward him and your fingers landed lightly along his jaw, gently turning his face toward you so you could see his bright blue eyes. You clasped his face for a moment and his eyes closed for just a split second. He actually leaned into the touch of your palm and you felt another pang in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, your fingertips trailing off his skin. “You should have had people your whole life touching you with love and friendship and care. And I’m so sorry you didn’t. We all need touch. It’s something fundamental to us as humans.”

You were close together, your knees almost bumping together.

Daryl’s eyes flickered between yours. “Yeah… I dun think I realized that until—pretty recently,” he said. “But ya don’t, uhh—I mean, I’ve noticed ya don’t… do the same thing with ev’rybody. I mean—not—not exactly the same,” he ventured.

“You noticed?” A small smile came back to your face. “No. You’re right. I don’t,” you agreed. You gave him a significant look and his heart began absolutely pounding in his chest, like he was running for his life, hard and fast.

“Oh…” he drawled, his eyes going suddenly unfocused.

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh, your cheeks heating with a blush. “Um, listen—come find me after dinner tonight. I’ve got first watch in the guard tower. Alright?” You stood and Daryl found himself looking up at you, wishing you wouldn’t go.

He could ask you to stay… but he just nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Alright. Tonight.”

“Great,” you said, flashing him a smile that made him glad he was sitting down already. You would have nearly knocked his knees out. How was he going to make it through the rest of the day? The waiting would be excruciating…

_ _ _ _ _ _

Daryl looked up at the guard tower and could see your silhouette out on the platform against the warm splash of color from the setting sun. Inside the tower, a lantern glowed softly, illuminating the windows. He made his way up the winding stairs, trying to swallow his nerves to the best of his ability, but he found it wasn’t much use. He wiped his hands on his pants, suddenly aware that his palms were sweaty.

He pushed into the tower and found the door out onto the platform standing open. You looked over your shoulder at the sound of his boots and smiled at him, before returning to leaning on the railing, staring at the hues of salmon and orange and deep reds blazing across the sky as the sun sunk behind the trees at the horizon.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” you asked, meaning the sunset.

Daryl licked his lips nervously, but he was looking at you. “Yeah,” he drawled.

“I like how the sky is never the exact same. No two skies are alike. Something is always different with the colors or the clouds or the particular shade of blue. It makes me feel like even though the world has gone to complete shit… it hasn’t really. You know?”

Daryl leaned onto the railing beside you on his forearms and drank in the scene, humming his agreement. “Mhm.” He nervously shifted. “Um… why’d—why’d ya ask me up here?” He couldn’t stand the strenuous anticipation and wondering any longer.

You turned giving him a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. You’ve probably been wondering all day. Well… I was wondering if I could kiss you and this seemed like a nice place to do it—private, nice view, stars will be out soon, unlikely to be interrupted…”

Daryl thought he must have heard you wrong. “Wait—what?”

You smiled at him, your eyes sparking with light. “I’d like to kiss you, if that’s alright?”

He stared at you. “Ya wanna kiss me?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Huh… well—what if I wanna kiss you first?”

You gave him an amused look, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Then, I’d say this works out for both of us?” you laughed.

He ducked his head for a moment. “Cuz I’ve wanted to kiss ya for—for a long time now. Prob’ly longer than you’ve wanted to kiss me,” he admitted. He shot a cautious look at your expression but you still just had that serene smile on your face.

“Daryl—” you said, stepping in toward him and gently taking hold of the front of his vest, “I don’t care who initiates it, but I’d like it to happen n—”

You didn’t get the last word out, because Daryl’s lips landed flush on yours and his hand was tangling into your hair, the other landing lightly on your waist. He seemed a little tense at first, nerves maybe, but quickly you melted into each other, your knees weakening, and he tugged you against him as your arms looped around his neck.

Your hearts were racing in time together and you were both breathless when you broke apart, pulling back only enough to breathe. Daryl’s fingers drummed anxiously on your lower back.

“Was… that alrigh’?” he asked.

“Alright?” you repeated. “It was perfect,” you said.

He looked relieved. “Good. ‘Cuz… it was for me too,” he said softly. “And I’d like to do it again, if tha’s alrigh’?”

You grinned and arched into him, crashing your lips against his. This kiss was fiery and hungry and you didn’t break apart for a long time. Daryl held your body firmly against his and the two of you moved without any clumsiness or reticence, reading each other easily and sinking into it.

The sun was now nearly completely gone and the first stars were appearing in the inky sky. The moon was rising. You bit your bottom lip, looking up at Daryl. “I was hoping you’d stay until my shift is over.”

“Mmm,” Daryl nodded, his hands still on your waist. “Alrigh’. But s’gonna be hard to keep watch with ya distractin’ me.”

“Well, there are two of us… only one of us really needs to be watching at a time,” you joked, laughing lightly. You stroked your fingers through his wavy hair, brushing it away from his face, and his eyes closed at your touch. “I brought a blanket up to sit on. Come on.”

Daryl settled down on it first and then nudged his head in a way as to request that you sink down against him. His arm draped behind you and landed on your hip. His fingers moved a little absently, feeling your softness and angles. “Thanks,” he said suddenly.

“Hmm? For what?” you asked, looking over at him and catching his eyes for a moment before he ducked his head and shrugged.

“For bein’ you and… bein’ the way ya are with me,” he drawled. He didn’t know how to voice that as long as he’d known you, every little touch you gave him, innocent or maybe more, felt like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he found himself craving it, craving you. But he’d never known for sure, beyond the doubt instilled in him, if it was one-sided or not. Now, he knew.

"You don't have to thank me. You deserve to feel wanted, Daryl. You are." You smiled at him and then tucked yourself against him, your head resting under his chin, your hand moving softly on his bare arm, leaving tingles in its wake. The last light of the sun disappeared and was replaced with the cool glow of the moon and endless stars, and the two of you soaked in each other. Daryl seemed more confident as the minutes passed and drank you in, slowly touch-starved no longer and hoping he would never be again.

[fae-of-fiction]

✧ — cutie pie ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

✧ — there’s just some things that you do that are too irresistibly cute; oliver aiku, isagi yoichi, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei, kunigami rensuke, bachira meguru ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊

✧ — 1k words (some parts are longer than others, oops)

✧ — fem!reader, established relationships, cuteness aggression, language (i have a potty mouth), reader is shorter than the boys but otherwise kept nondescript, fluff, soft!boys, whipped!boys, prolly some ooc (pls let me be delulu), domesticity, some subtle suggestiveness, not proofread (we die like men) (i’ll prolly go back and fix it up later but it’s 2am and my ass needs sleep), my writing :,)

✧ — it’s only my second post and i’m already switching my format slightly? yes. yes i am. i swear this is the only time i will change it up i hope. enough of my blabbing, here’s the things they find cute! <3 (tbh i feel like all of these could apply to all of them but for the sake of convenience i’m doing it this way)

aiku considers himself a tough man. he doesn’t coo at fluffy kittens or cute babies, and he sure as hell doesn’t do that weird baby voice thing when talking to them.

but you — oh, you’re something entirely different.

especially when you’re struggling to reach something on a high shelf.

maybe it makes him cruel, but when aiku notices you in this particular predicament, his first instinct isn’t to reach above you and grab the object you’re seeking for you — instead it’s to watch.

he watches as your shirt slips up your back, teasing him with that tiniest sliver of skin. watches as your dainty fingers try desperately to grasp the object that’s just out of your reach. revels in the little bounces you pull off as you try to gain some leverage through a small jump. melts on the inside when you finally give up and turn back to him with innocent sort of helplessness on your face and ask him for help.

only then does aiku feel that mistimed instinct to come to your rescue, and no, he absolutely does not flush or feel giddy when you beam at him and thank him with those adoring eyes.

when isagi had been asked what his “type” was, he genuinely didn’t have an answer. he always figured he’d just be attracted to whatever he was attracted to — and there was no need to put a name to it.

that was, until he met you — and then it became all too clear that isagi did have a type; the mother hen.

others may find it slightly overbearing to be bombarded by such intrusive mother-henning, but isagi finds it absolutely adorable. you’re always checking in on him, ensuring that he gets the proper amount to eat and drink, that he’s maintaining a healthy sleeping schedule; hell, sometimes you even chastise him when you feel he’s practicing too much — and even that is cute, because you get all pouty when you do so, your cheeks slightly flushed and eyes clouded with genuine worry.

it makes isagi feel seen and loved, cared for in a way that he’s never experienced before. in a way that he wants to bask in forever.

karasu absolutely adores your clinginess.

he’s heard many other guys sigh and groan about how smothered they feel when their girl is clingy, and truthfully, karasu simply can’t relate.

nothing makes him feel bigger than when you want to be near him. you wrap your arms around him and cling to him like a second skin, no matter what it is he’s doing. your love language is clearly physical touch, and you speak it so fluently — a hand in his, side to side, shoulder rubbing shoulder, arms wrapped around his middle, lips fastened to his neck or mouth.

when karasu is allowed to have his phone, he’s greeted with multiple messages, pictures and videos all from you, clogging up his feed — some may find that a little too needy, but karasu revels in it and saves every picture you send. he loves knowing you miss him and that he’s in your head more often than not.

you’re all over him, in person and in distance, and karasu loves it. finds it cuter than a fluffy kitten wearing a ribbon. maybe he squeezes you a little too hard when you throw yourself at him, but when you’re that damn cute and attached to him, how can he resist?

shidou never really thought about the allure of having a quote on quote “mini-me.”

at least, not until you started replicating everything he did. it started out small, with you merely adapting some of his words and phrases into your dialect.

but it didn’t take long for your attitude to start to morph into something similar to his; quick to temper, cocky, and shamelessly vulgar, shidou couldn’t help but see himself in you. gone was the woman he originally fell for. she had been replaced by someone molded from him, from his influence and love, and rather than irk him or put him off, it only drove him to love you even more.

you were so cute when you copied him. when you used all the insults to slice into someone that he would have used, when you developed his same “i don’t give a fuck” attitude, when you stopped letting other people walk all over you.

you’d effectively been shaped into a piece of him, and shidou would never grow tired of seeing the evidence of it.

kunigami will never tire of hearing your laugh.

no, not those cute little giggles you used to use around him — your real laugh, the one you only allow to slip out when you’ve become comfortable enough to do so.

you say you hate it, but kunigami swears he’s never heard anything more beautiful in his life — it’s purely angelic, and far too cute for him to handle.

there’s something about it that blazes up his chest and makes him feel lighter than a feather, especially when he’s the one that evokes it. it wraps around him like the warmest, comfiest blanket and makes him feel as if he’s on top of the world. it never fails to make him smile, even if he’s in the worst mood of the century.

bachira absolutely melts when you become defensive of him.

it’s a fairly common occurrence — you tend to take things said to or about him much harder than he himself does, and you’ll defend his honor until you’re blue in the face. it can be quite an entertaining sight when you catch wind of something a rival team member said; because you have zero hesitance to stomp right up to them and confront them.

bachira doesn’t mean to find it so cute — given how absolutely torn up you seem about it when it happens, bachira feels he shouldn’t view it the way he does; but he genuinely can’t help it.

seeing you become so worked up, with your full lips all pouty and your eyebrows drawn together, just warms him from the inside out. maybe it’s because he’s never had anyone become so emotional over a slight to his person, never had anyone so ready to swing just to “beat some manners” into someone because they were rude to him.

or maybe it’s because you’ve always just been cute, and you look even cuter when you get all worked up over him. whatever the reason is, bachira selfishly hopes you never stop — because he’s never felt more loved and cared for than when you do it.

as always, comments/likes/reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! thank you so much for reading, lovelies!

[evielmostdefinitely]

i love soft!coriolanus. big bad mean man being so sweet?

something where maybe you're sick? nothing major but something where he gets to dote on you?

watch over me |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, you're sick and coriolanus takes care of you.

contains: slightly dark!coriolanus. possessive and manipulative-ish coriolanus and slight paranoia. past mentions of lucy gray. mainly just fluff.

“Is there a reason you decided not to show up to the luncheon today? Left me sitting there like an idiot without you.” Coriolanus was annoyed, beyond annoyed- tone clipped with irritation, stomping through the suite that was just for the two of you. 

He didn’t see you in the living room, not lounging on the couch or even in the sun room. His bristling exasperation grew to raging fear. Sickening, haunting what if’s slammed to the front of his mind, painstaking memories of Lucy Gray’s disappearance. History had repeated itself again, he was sure of it as Coriolanus barked out your name, turning the corner furiously. 

Your tiny squeak of a response came from the ensuite bathroom, muffled by the closed door and high ceilings of your bedroom. Coriolanus bounded towards the bathroom, yanking the door open with a fury, softening once he saw you, crumbled on the bathroom tile. Your head pressed against the clawfoot tub, stuffy nose sniffles that had him cringing. 

“Darling,” Coriolanus watched you carefully. “Are you alright?” 

You lifted your head, eyes red rimmed with irritation. You looked pitiful- Coryo cursed the way it made his heart swell and boast with pure adoration. “I think I might have the plague.” You sounded like your nose was clogged, voice scratchy and soft, looking at him helplessly. 

Coryo grinned, a small huff of a laugh, walking over to you. “The plague?” He repeated, pressing a hand to your forehead- the skin clammy and hot. “You feel feverish.” 

“I am.” You croaked, leaning into his touch. “I had the doctor check on me. I have the flu. I-I meant to call you, but I got really cold and then hot, and-” 

“-That’s alright.” Coriolanus shook his head gently, thumbs massaging your temples in a soft way that had you mewling, head lolling into his touch. “I hate that you’re not feeling well, my love. Did the doctor give you anything?” 

“A shot.” You rasped, eyes closed, body pressing further and further into him. “I think my fever broke. I got really hot so I decided to lay in here. The tile is cool.” 

“I could have brought you ice.” Coryo muttered. “I can have the Avoxes bring you an ice pack for your head.” 

“No, I-I’ll be alright. I feel better now.” You were lying, Coryo knew that, but he didn’t correct you. Not now. Not while you felt so ill. 

“I’m sorry I missed the luncheon.” Your eyes rounded when they met his gaze. 

“None of that. I won’t hear it.” Coriolanus shook his head firmly, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead. Were you too hot? What did too hot feel like? Should he call the doctor back? His own worries mixed with his sinking guilt made him feel uneasy. 

“You need to rest.” Coryo said firmly. 

“I-I’m alright. Just let me bathe, and I can make it to the dinner-” 

“-Don’t be ridiculous.” Coryo scoffed, a hand on your sweat soaked back, pulling you up, holding you firmly to his side as he walked you towards the bed. 

You clung to him, walking stiff from the tightness in your joints, a little dizzy from the medicine and the sudden movements. He loved it, pulling you closer to him. How pliant you were, how easily you obeyed and relied on him. 

“You are to stay in bed until you feel better, do you understand me?” Coriolanus commanded, flipping the covers back, helping you into your side of the bed. 

You fell into your pillows far too easily, no fight left in you, body flooded with fatigue. It was so easy to let Coryo take control of you like this. Let him take care of you, tell you what you should and shouldn’t do- do it for you without asking. You supposed you shuld feel trapped, and maybe at times you did, but at moments like these, your heart filled with nothing but fondness. 

“You tell me if you feel anything, anything even the slightest bit off.” Coryo’s hand pressed to your warm cheek, your eyes glazed with fever. “Are you listening to me?” 

“Yes.” You hummed, eyelids drooping. “I will let you know.” 

“What do you need now?” The bed dipped, Coriolanus taking a seat next to you. “What can I get for you?” 

“I’m just going to rest, Coryo.” You muttered, settling into the soft pillows. 

“I’ll get you a glass of water.” 

“Coryo, I’m fine.” You grinned sleepily, heart bursting with warmth and adoration for him. “I just need to rest.”

Coriolanus allowed it, commanding his protempore to bring him his work, rescheduling the meetings for the day so he could work at the small desk in the corner of the room. Carefully looking over schedules and statements and militia plans, while also watching you. Every snore, hum, sigh, toss and turn, sound coming from you had his attention peeked, ready at any moment to scream for the doctor. His mind raced still, even with you in front of him, possibilites of horrendous outcomes and terrifying scenarios. 

Until you woke up, greeted by a small bowl of soup- one his Grandma’am used to make him and Tigris when they were ill. “I can eat on my own, Coryo.” You shook your head lightly at him, accepting another spoonful of the warm liquid, sighing at how it soothed your aching throat. 

Coriolanus didn’t respond, bringing the spoon to your lips instead. And you let him, of course you let him. When he was so gentle like this, fussed over you this way, gave you his undivided attention. 

Contentment settled over both of you behind the closed doors of your home. This type of softness never to be seen outside of here. Tomorrow, Coriolanus would order three executions in the Capitol, striking even more fear over the Districts and weeding out the rebels. He’d be merciless and cold and cruel out there, but for you- for now, he’d be gentle.

[leonsdolly]

Dog Days

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're sick, but Leon's here to take care of you.

CW: fluff, comfort

WC: 785

A/n: looks like everyone's sick rn !!! ruru, this one's for you since you also got sick (╥﹏╥) sending you all the love and best wishes so that you can feel better @laceycoffins (๑-﹏-๑)

“Leon…” Your whines fly weakly through the room and hit your boyfriend’s ears in the living room. “Leonnnn…” It takes everything in you to muster up enough energy to call out his name.

You hear a sigh before the sound of his footsteps make their way to your shared bedroom. “Everything okay, baby?” He internally coos at the sight of you laying in bed with a cool rag over your forehead and thin covers pulled up to your chest. You’re like a woodland creature of sorts, a little dormouse curled up snugly in its burrow for the winter. Except it isn't winter. The scorching early July sun looms over the city, ready to penetrate through your lace curtains and exacerbate the fever plaguing your body. You pout up at him as you feebly lift your arms out for him.

“What do you need, baby?” He chuckles as he takes one of your hands in his. “Just brought you more fluids, changed that washcloth, made your bed ‘til you said it was comfy enough.”

“I need you,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. Did he really expect his needy girl to recover through her illness without being pressed up against him 24/7? Would he also let her succumb to the bubonic plague, damning her to a burial pit on the outskirts of a European city in the 14th century? He sighs and lifts the washcloth on your forehead to feel it with the back of his hand. He turns his hand over to rub soothingly at your forehead, and suddenly you're a child again, relishing in your mother's healing touch over your little ailing body while her dramas blare in the background and the aroma of spicy noodle soup invigorates you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief of his cool touch against your warmed skin. He lifts the blanket up to slide in next to you, and when you open your eyes again, he's wrapping his arms around you.

“Weren't you bitching about how you can't get sick right now?” You snuggle against him, enraptured by the way his warm breath hits the top of your head when he chuckles.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” He drops a kiss on your hair. “Can’t have my baby suffering, that's all there is to it. Even if your snot gets all over me.”

“Whatev-” your croak is intercepted by a coughing fit that erupts from within your lungs.

“Sound like the exorcist girl.”

“You have such a way with words.” You bat your eyes like you’re really head over heels for this man. Which you are.

“Look like her too,” he says pointedly at the god-awful leakage dripping from your nostrils.

“When his love language is words of affirmation.”

He grunts as he snakes an arm over to pluck a lone tissue from the nightstand and pinches your nose with it. “Blow.”

“You know I don’t ever say no to that,” you joke as you close your eyes and force the air to expel through your clogged sinuses and into the flimsy tissue Leon holds.

“Now you sound like a lawn mower. Or a chainsaw.” He tosses the tissue into a spare plastic bag you’re using for trash before vigorously sanitizing his hands which makes you giggle.

You tuck your face into his chest, feeling the cooling fabric against your flushed cheeks. Nothing is quite more miserable than falling ill alone during the hottest months of the year. He’s your relief against the hazy summer world just outside your windows, threatening to seep in and shake your body’s best efforts to maintain homeostasis. Your symptoms are alleviated by his mere presence, and his hands are the most effective treatment in your frail state. His familiar scent envelopes your senses even through your congestion, whispering words of reassurance into the depths of your brain like you’re that little girl laying in your mother’s soft arms again. The bottle  of generic acetaminophen laying on your nightstand fails in efficacy when Leon’s around.

“Love you,” you mumble against his shirt as he repeats it back, and you cling to him for all that you’ve got in your weakened condition. This is your source of wellness, your reason for waking up every morning and braving through the travails of life. The love is mutual - you’re his sole reason for fighting. There’s a plethora of horrors alive and breathing in this world that you’ll never have to witness; he’ll make sure of that until he’s drawn his last breath. But for now, he’s content in just holding you close while the summer heat rages on outside the walls of your home.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley w/ a sick baby Headcanons and Imagines list

Am I back with the Dad!Ghost content? You know damn well I am, also yes the render I used is courtesy of our beloved @ave661 who's most definitely annoyed by my existence by now for constantly tagging her.

Will I ever stop writing Dad!Ghost? Fuck no, why? Daddy issues and baby fever, if you want anyone to blame, it's those two. And yes, I will be upset if this doesn't do well. (AHEM, MY SOAP POST)

Taglist of who I this would enjoy this and requested: @puff0o0, @blingblong55, @cutenote, @wise-owl and @connorsui. This last creator by far has given me the best fucking commentary on my work and I have more works on and coming about Dad!Ghost, genuinely thank you so freaking much, you made me cry 😭.

I'M BACK! Let's start, shall we?

❥ Dad!Simon who's a very nervous first time father, well there's a first for everything and so is the first time your guys' baby got sick.

❥ Dad!Simon who immediately got them a check up, it was a common flu. Naturally medication and antibiotics were prescripted.

❥ Dad!Simon whose heart melts once he hears the soft whimpers of discomfort of the little on as they stir in the crib. The soft raspy cries and flushed chubby cheeks and warm, almost burning temperature.

❥ Dad!Simon who is trying his hardest not to look back the car seat when you were on your way to the clinic, to check on the baby whose little cheeks are bouncing a bit while being entertained by their pacifier, the little cooling patch on their head making their forehead crinkle a bit.

❥ Dad!Simon who was amused by how talkative the little one still is despite being so drowsy and in pain. Babbling their little heart out while sniffling.

"Dada!" the little on calls for Simon, almost in a screaming manner if it wasn't for the poor little thing's scratchy and sore throat.

They let out incoherent babbles to Simon as if trying to tell him something, as if they're chatting like they used to, the only adjustments being the constant sniffles and coughs. Them being reduced to their clogged nose while trying so hard to communicate. (Here's your visual)

Simon took the warm baby bottle from your hands to feed the little one.

"Bee, slow down.." A new nickname picked up by Simon to give to your little one, bumblebee, trying to tell them to slow down from chugging.

❥ Dad!Simon who never thought the baby wouldn't get any more clingy, at least not until they got sick. Constantly asking for "dada" and "mama" while he goes on about his day trying to help his wife, you, to keep up with the chores around the house.

❥ Dad!Simon who feels a bit guilty because he loves the comfort he's able to provide the baby, especially that they're not comfortable and less than happy with the sickness. Having the baby on his chest, patting their fragile back gently with a hand that's almost bigger than their body as their dad's heartbeat lulls them to sleep despite being irritable the whole day.

❥ Dad!Simon who slightly chuckles when the baby's breathing starts picking up, their lips trembling into a pout, little doe eyes starting to get glassy from the tears forming with a pitched whimper, only to be silenced by a kiss from both you and Simon. The toll of the sickness only ever being reduced with yours and his affection.

❥ Dad!Simon who joins in when the baby entertains themselves while playing with the various rattles and teething toys.

Bumblebee shaking the tiny rattle, a bit in frustration, knocking their self back. Luckily Simon had intense reflexes and managed to slip his hand in time between the cushioned but still quite hard floor and the baby's tiny head.

Simon let out a breath of relief, "You sure know how to scare me, don't you bee?"

The baby let out a strained giggle as their dad guided them to sit back up by their head and back.

❥ Dad!Simon who tries his best to make the baby take the prescripted medicine, that baby did NOT like the taste of it and he had to resort to sneaking it in their food to hide the taste of the bitter syrup.

"Come on pumpkin, copy dada okay?" Simon whispers while exhaling loudly out his nose, careful with the baby's sensitive ears.

❥ Dad!Simon who makes the little one blow their tiny nose.

The sleepy eyes of the little one trailing on him, trying to observe and copy, blowing their nose on the soft wipes Simon held against their nose.

After wiping it, Simon noticed how their nose now unclogged helped they sleep far more easier and with less frustration from them.

Shout out to a very consistent person who has been liking all the things I post despite them not being actual content @poohkie90 <3

Also I had no idea @simp4konig and I were mutuals, I'M FANGIRLING SO HARD WHEN I SAW THE LIKED POST NOTIF.

Sidenote: I'm sick rn y'all, like it just kept on coming. First was my period, then next thing I knew my nose is clogged and I'm sniffling, then the next I'm coughing and sneezing. There's so much blood rn I can't even. I don't feel good at all but I'm pushing through. Apologies if this was shorter than most if you expected from me, I wanted to elaborate on this prompt however I don't have much ideas so I'm sorry to disappoint.

[dadsbongos]

dungeon meshi gave me an excuse to write clone porn

2.6 k words / warnings - readers have boobs and vagina, oral (laios + reader receiving), thigh fucking, porn without plot like none at all, not proofread + written while sleep deprived

summary - on your honeymoon, you and laios have a special kind of shapeshifter encounter

~~~

“Who keeps two towels in the whole house?” you grumble, pulling on the shoes you’d kicked off just minutes ago.

“Like I said, they probably keep some in the shed,” Laios is directly behind you, shoes on and wired to step outside, “Vacation houses out here are rare, but their sheds are more useful for storage than farming tools.”

“Still, did they not think to prepare a little more?” your frustration is not so easily tempered, “They knew a king was coming, didn’t they?”

“I’m sure they did,” Laios opens the front door for you, ushering you outside, “Marcille seemed pretty sure she set this up nicely for us. It’s just a short walk around the back, I could go by myself if you want to finish showering?”

His suggestion makes you sigh, you shake your head, huddling closer to him as chilled wind scathes your damp skin, “I’m just annoyed, it’s nothing for me to be so hostile about… Sorry for losing my mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he smooches the crown of your head and ventures around the house. You chase after, having to keep a hand dragging along the wall to avoid tripping.

“Laios!” you wail, unable to make him out with gray clogging your whole vision, “Laios!”

“Yeah?” you slam into his chest, letting out a muted ‘oomf!’ at the impact.

“It’s so foggy out here,” you grumble.

“It is, guess I forgot how terrible it could be.”

“Dunno how you could forget anything like this.”

Laios groans in irritation at the weather, blindly reaching out until he’s got a hand on your shoulder. Once he’s certain of your position, he reaches out again, “Here, take my hand, I don’t want you to get separated from me.”

You take the hand extended and let Laios tug you towards the shed. By the time you’re inside and the hanging overhead lantern is lit, a sudden discovery is made.

There are two extra bodies among you. You hold one Laios, and the Laios across from you holds the hand of your copy.

A gasp echoes through the room, distinctly Laios-like in passion.

Seems a monster has crossed your paths.

One Laios is taller, a mere two inches, and you think if you really stare that same Laios’ chest is slightly bigger too. He’s also smiling, beaming really, right off the bat while the second Laios’ excitement is more contained to shaking hands and meek giggles. To be fair to both, they thought they’d never see a monster again so you let the strange giddy slide.

However, your duplicate is scary in how precisely Laios remembers you. Your hair is a bit bouncier and lips more glossy than current, but she’s undeniably accurate. Its legs, the swell of its breasts, the mold of its waist -- almost as though you’re gazing through a mirror.

“This would probably be easier if it wasn’t just us,” you think aloud, looking at the two Laioses only to see them poking and prodding at one another.

“They don’t seem too keen on figuring out which is which,” your copy mumbles, earning a glare from you.

“It’s a shapeshifter!” the slightly shorter Laios (who you’re now electing to dub Laios A) shouts, “I haven’t seen one of these in forever! I thought I never would again!”

The other one, Laios B, nods and yanks Laios A’s hair experimentally, then groping his bicep, “It really feels just like I do! Soft, but firm skin and the hair texture’s exactly right!”

As if thinking in sync, the pair slowly turn towards the yous. Four hands turn unto you both to squeeze and roll down the planes of your body. Or, bodies, considering they’re petting down your copy as well.

“Practically identical!” Laios A squeals, kissing your cheek then your copy’s, “Even the plumpness of their cheeks feel the same!”

“Glad you’re having fun,” your dupe cuts in, “but shouldn’t we try getting rid of the fakes before they get rid of us?”

Oh, that little wench.

“Let Laios have fun,” you smack its arm, “You should know this is rare for him now.”

“That attitude’s terrible! He could die if we keep messing around!” it glares at you with an accusatory finger-wag, “I bet you want us to waste time, you fake!”

“You’re the fake, you fake!”

Laios A has to restrain you with both arms around your waist -- while Laios B does the same for your shifter -- to prevent you from knocking a fist into its stupid, fake face.

“There’s gotta be a way to figure out which ones the real one without breaking into fights,” Laios B fusses, hugging the shifter tighter to soothe her. Which, in turn, only agitates you more because what if that Laios is the real one, and he’s in horrible danger holding that monster?!

“We can’t just cut ourselves open,” Laios A’s chest reverberates at your back, then his hand skims down the front of your stomach, fingertips dipping just beneath your waistband, “But maybe we could tell each other’s behaviors apart some other way…”

“Oh, so it’s like that?” you tilt your head back to stare up at Laios A.

He nods, terminally serious despite the pinkish hue trailing from his cheeks to his neck, “It’s like that,” he then darts his eyes between you and your copy, “Can we?”

The real question seems to be: can you two get along for now?

Are you so devoted to Laios that you’re willing to play nice with something so grating?

You sigh and reach up to cup Laios A’s cheek, “Yeah, we can.”

Both Laioses rush to undo the tie of their trousers, only to be stopped by you and your copy -- the two of you falling onto your knees, creeping hands under Laios’ shirt and beneath his pants.

Yanking the soft material down to unveil thick thighs, Laios A above you gasps quietly at the cool air brushing his exposed skin. Your lips climb the meat of his leg, noting that Laios B’s thighs are looking a little rounder. Not that it matters, you’ll gladly bite and suck both.

Fingers dancing along the apple of your cheek redirect your attention, Laios A’s face tinged crimson. You smooch the bone of his hip, nails scaling along the back of his thighs to pull him closer. Beside your face, his cock hardens, color deepening towards his mushroom tip; he keens for more attention, unintentionally smearing leaky precum over your face as his erection twitches. You smooth a thumb along his underside before chastly pecking the weepy head.

Laios B’s hands strip your copy’s shirt, lifting it to paw at its breasts. He kisses down the column of its neck before reaching out for you as well. Rising onto your feet, you run your hands up Laios B’s back to shirk off his top -- Laios A awkwardly lingering behind your clone. His hands find the waistband of its pants, snaking beneath the lip to plunge into its panties.

You press a kiss to Laios B, he doesn’t turn to return the affection, but you recover quickly by pulling down both you and your duplicate’s bottoms. Laios A’s neck cranes over your copy’s shoulder to snatch your lips for himself. Laios B’s hands warm and calloused from labor as they careen up your waist to rid you of your shirt as well. He sucks a violet array from your shoulder to jaw, grinding his turgid girth between your thighs -- your wetness welcoming him.

Laios A moans at the sight of himself thrusting along your soaked slit, fingers quickening inside your copy until its own slick is rolling towards the floor. While Laios B releases muted groans and puffs into your ear.

“Need to be inside you,” Laios A whines, kissing your copy’s lips before striding past all three of you towards the center of the room. Laios B and you tilt to watch him.

Laios A quickly flattens his back against the floor, cobblestone acclimating to his rising body heat, he pulls you down by the waist -- then beckoning your copy via wave. One of his hands cradles your waist while the other smoothes along your copy’s thigh. Silently urging it to kneel over his face, all while his twitching cock bobs toward the apex of your thighs.

“Want to know if here’s the same, too,” Laios A murmurs into your dupe’s thighs, sharply jerking his hips towards yours.

Suddenly, large hands are burrowing into the thicket of your hair, swerving your eyes to Laios B. Your tongue lulls in time with your copy, lips brushing hers around the base of Laios B’s flushed head. Needily, he mushes your faces together, thrusting between the wet cavern of your mouths. Hands just as soft as yours slither beneath you to work Laios A inside you. Laios A snaps his knees up, feet on the floor, to aid your copy’s effort. His hips buck up, punching air from your chest as he pops into your hole.

A louder mewl slithers past your copy’s lips, Laios A’s tongue lathering its slit before pausing at its clit, bathing the bud in extra attention. His thumbs splay it open just for easier access to tongue-fuck. Meanwhile, your sleepy bouncing rhythm is interrupted by abrupt, sharp humping throwing you off balance. The only reason you don’t fall over is Laios B stubbornly holds your head still, fucking the sodden gap between yours and your clone’s faces; otherwise leaving you to your own devices. You manage to catch yourself on Laios A’s chest, firm muscles flexing beneath your palms with his throaty hums and whimpers of pleasure.

Your tongue clashes with your clone’s -- soft and wet and warm.

Pulling both your heads back, Laios B rearranges you so your clone is left squealing around his balls while he slaps the meaty weight of his cock on your tongue. Sliding toward the back of your throat, his face flushes as he hungrily coaxes your head further down. Until your molten cheeks meet the protrusions of his pelvic bones.

A hand bigger than yours (though smaller than the one in your hair) rests on your flexing tummy, pressing against the bulging evidence of which Laios is inside you. Laios A groans at the feeling, and you quickly fumble your hand over his, pressing harder with a delighted gasp that ends in a gag and choke. Their sizes are indecipherable, and if the mood were different you could almost be ashamed by how perverted it makes you seem.

Laios B throws his head back as your throat spasms around his tip, lip cinched between his teeth and brows furrowed. He forces your head side-to-side, reveling in the bend of your muscles shifting to accommodate his dick. Laios A, however, stretches his hand (a little uncomfortably) so his thumb can swish messily against your clit. Your volume grows, quickly overpowering both Laios B and your own duplicate. Spurring Laios A to hasten, jostling you with his powerful drilling paired with stimulating your clit.

The other hand of Laios A has found one of your clone’s tits, squeezing and padding the nipple with his thumb. She’s grinding down against his nose, hips jumping and muffled mewls just barely scratching past its lips into the sensitive sack of Laios B’s balls. Spit gurgling down its chin, drying against its breasts and Laios A’s hand.

Drool steadily pools at the pucker of your own lips, pushed out everytime B shoves in -- saliva splatters his hips, dripping down his thighs and soaking his base as well as your entire lower face. The quicker he fucks your face, the sloppier and wetter it gets. Which is certainly in character for Laios.

But so is the way the one on his back is staving off his burgeoning orgasm to make sure (both of) you finish first. Something he always tries.

Laios A’s hips snap up firmly, crooking up into you midair, deep as possible to ensure all his cum is milked by your cunt. He moans into your clone’s cunt, now content to let his tongue hang out as it fucks his face -- his hand still squishing its tit.

Yet something he always fails.

Laios usually cums before you, but he’s also got the stamina to soldier on until you drop.

Determined, Laios swirls your clit, fevered thrusts slowing to meet your bouncing on his cock. Another slush of saliva oozes past your lips, lubing the shapeshifter as you cry around its erection. Laios fucks you through your orgasm, evidently loving how cum spews from your weeping cunt -- leaking down his cock, over his nuts, and spilling onto the cobblestone below.

Faux Laios spits cum down your throat with a few final aggressive jerks. Your clone is the last, and the quietest, shy huffs scarcely audible between skin on skin and both you and Laios’ noisy crooning.

The shapeshifters tumble off, thoroughly exhausted, and you fare no better collapsing into Laios’ chest. He leisurely jabs the last of your energy from you before pulling out altogether. Sweetly pecking your forehead, Laios murmurs something you don’t quite catch before he rises -- still naked -- to drive off the imposters.

Snagging both by the back of their necks, Laios herds the pair towards the back wall, then scooping you up to carry towards the main house. Once your doppelgangers are locked outside, Laios can focus on getting you in bed.

You pinch the juncture of his neck, yawning into his chest, “Clothes…”

“I know, I know,” he slumps against the door upon getting inside, laying his head over yours -- eyes fluttering with drowsiness as soon as he crosses into the master bed, “I’ll go back when the shapeshifter’s dealt with. You brought more clothes, right?”

You nod clumsily. Then peek at him through heavy lashes, “How do you know I’m the right one anyway?”

(you trust him to know which you was which, you just want him to bask in this)

Laios grins, visibly excited to share as he slips you beneath the sheets, “You’re always loud when we have sex, so I knew the version of you trying to be quiet couldn’t be it. And it was too shy about sitting on my face -- we’ve been together a while so you should be used to it by now,” his expression grows somehow brighter before disappearing from your sight, voice lively from the bathroom, “Could you tell which me was me?”

“Mhm,” you wait for him to return with a damp washcloth before mumbling your own reasoning, “The other one was too rough, kept shovin’ my head. And he never kissed me,” you fling a hand out, and Laios moves his head so your palm lands on his cheek, “Which was very unlike you.”

“You’re so smart,” he muses, shifting to kiss your palm before lacing his free hand with yours and retucking it in bed so he can properly clean the mixed cum between your thighs. Then, suddenly, he’s frowning.

“Aw, what’s wrong?”

“This might actually be my last time seeing a monster, unless it's a corpse Izutsumi brings me…”

“Poor baby,” you’ll never understand his fascination -- monsters are deadly and terrible and most are ugly as sin, but you’re useless to denying Laios anything so you always indulge him, “You could sing me the mermaids’ song, would that help you feel better?”

Laios sits up straighter, finishing cleaning you off, “Can I sing to the end? I never get to finish it.”

“Of course, you can.”

Quiet, hysterical giggles leave Laios’ mouth as he slides into bed beside you, hugging you into his chest before clearing his throat to begin singing.

(you have to keep pinching yourself awake to actually let Laios finish the song before falling asleep, but his grateful little kisses on your hairline are enough thanks)

[ddejavvu]

currently thinking abt like maybe poly!marauders w innocent!reader but instead of like 🥺👉👈 innocent she’s like 🤔🧍‍♀️ innocent yk what i mean? sorry if that’s too vague this is my first time doing a request lmao

i know what you meant in your request and i tried to convey it here but i can't tell if i did it right? i hope it doesn't come off as too cutesy i tried to just make her confused 😭 putting a keep reading just 'cause they act like total dumbass teenage boys here and it might give some of you the ick if i'm being honest

James peers down at the sticky note that had been shoved into the lockbox on the garage door of the cabin you're renting for the weekend, instructions from the owner on how to get inside.

"She says the code is 6, 9, 6, 9, pound," James reads, pausing to snicker before he finishes his sentence, "And she'd prefer if we came in the back door."

Sirius lets out his familiar bark of laughter, mumbling, "That's what she said."

"She's a woman that knows what she wants," James's face is glowing with a perpetual grin, his skin rosy from the cold. Even Remus chuckles from where he's standing behind you with your bags, and you're not sure why they all seem to be so delighted by the homeowner's request.

"It's probably 'cause her bush blocks the front entrance," You muse, pointing at some roses that have grown over the pathway to the front door, but are far too beautiful to contain, "I wouldn't want to trim it either."

Somehow, you've missed the mark.

Their eyes brighten with even more of the amusement that's typically shining in them, and their chests convulse as they try biting their tongues to stop from laughing.

"What?" Your brow furrows slightly, "Why's that funny?"

"It's not," Remus clears his throat, but he's lying, and you know he is because his mouth is twisted into a poorly-concealed smirk, "I think you're right, darling. It's the bush."

"S'always the bush," Sirius chimes in, grin far too wolfish to be talking of roses, "I mean, y'forget to garden for a week, and bam, it's out of control."

"Alright," Remus chides lightly, though he's still tight in the chest as he tries not to laugh, "Might I remind you that you haven't trimmed in a month? It's almost as long as the hair on your head."

"It clogs up the shower drain, mate," James concedes regretfully, "I can't back you up on this one."

Your brain is swirling with scattered concepts, your train of thought rapidly switching between tracks. Roses, bush, hair, trimming, gardening, showering, you feel like you've dropped two crates of words and now you need to sort them back into their original piles again. Surely roses goes with gardening and bush, but what have they got to do with showering?

"Whatever," Sirius scoffs good-naturedly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and punching the code into the door. He presses the final key, mumbling pound as he does so, then holds it open for you, "C'mon darling, inside, let's go to pound town."

[arkieve]

Burnt | @jegulus-microfic | word count: 716

James bites into a particularly persistent lump with the texture of onion and suppresses a shudder. 

“Did you put onions in this?” he asks, still chewing. Never stopping his chewing. The persistent chewing saves him from having to swallow.

Regulus frowns from his seat at the table. “Why would I put onions in pancakes?”

James wants to gag but opts for a deep breath, disguising it as a hum of contentment. “No reason.” More chewing. Oh god, it’s all mushy in his mouth, like the pancakes have reverted back to batter. “This is nice.”

Regulus squints. “Then swallow.” There’s a pause. “Swallow, James.”

James grabs the pitcher of water and fills his glass, ashamed that he has to resort to a technique he hasn’t used since middle school. He takes a deep breath, brings the glass to his lips, and washes the pancakes down. It takes the entire contents of the glass to ensure the food stays down, but he does it and he breathes out like he’s faced death and survived. His triumph is quickly trampled by Regulus’ puzzled stare.

“I love it. So much,” James says finally, blinking away tears. “In fact, I love it so much I’m gonna take it with me to the bathroom while I go about my business. If we end up with a clogging problem, it is one hundred percent me and not this…” James can’t call it pancakes; it’s not fair. It's an abuse of the name and legacy of pancakes.

“You hate it.” Regulus states simply, refusing to entertain James’ nonsense.

“No,” James tries to amend. “You took time out of your day to make me breakfast. I’m blessed.”

Regulus crosses his arms and huffs. “You’re fucking ungrateful, is what you are.”

James reels back in his chair, mouth agape in affronted shock. “Ungrateful? For not baring my neck for your ax?”

“Oh, that’s dramatic!”

James makes a motion towards the pile of pancakes plated between them. “Go on then. Have at it.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, and grabs a particularly crispy pancake with burnt edges, and bites into it raw. He chews, keeps chewing, and then chews some more, all the while maintaining determined eye contact with James.

James bites into his lip to stop himself from laughing. “Swallow.” 

Regulus stops chewing, and then comes the most painful swallow James has ever witnessed. Regulus sits unmoving, looking almost frozen aside from the occasional eye twitch.

James grows worried after a few minutes of silence, Regulus refusing to let up. “Reg?”

Regulus gives another dry swallow before opening his mouth, voice hoarse and parched. “Water,” is all he says, before James fills his glass. He downs the whole thing in one go, then hangs his head, refusing to meet James’ gaze. He should, though, because James has nothing but adoration for him despite the pancakes– stockholm syndrome and all that.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he breaks the silence with an affectionate smile branded on his lips. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Regulus finally looks up. “Why would I be mad at you?”

James gestures towards the pancakes, and Regulus gives a heavy sigh. “I made you pancakes because I love you, asshole.” He bites his lips, contemplating. “If anything, I’m happy with you.”

James’ heart soars. This is why he was ready to poison himself and clog their pipes. “If this is what you do when you’re happy with me, then I’m in danger.” He chuckles. When Regulus gets up to move, he throws his head back in laughter.

James grabs onto him, pulling him down onto his lap; Regulus goes with little to no resistance. “I’m joking,” he placates, burying his face in the crook of Regulus’ neck. Regulus squirms before going pliant. “You’re cute.”

“No, I’m not.” Regulus says, cutely. “I’m trying here.”

“I know,” James hums, tightening his hold with the sudden overwhelming love he feels for the man in his lap. “There’s no way but up from here. You’ll be putting all the professional chefs to shame in no time.”

Regulus scoffs. “I know.”

“We’ll start small, though. Let’s start with learning how to boil water first—ow!” Regulus is out of his lap and across the apartment, and James is too busy rubbing his arm and laughing to go after him.

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — rizz + bkg.

૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff + sfw, fem!reader, bakugou does nawt know what rizz means and his students make fun of him, pro hero!bkg is a teacher at UA, mentions of pregnancy scars, girl dad!bkg.

rizz — (slang) one’s ability to seduce a potential love interest. synonymous with game, charm.

“baby?”

“katsuki.”

“what the fuck is ‘rizz’?”

now he has your attention. setting aside your book for the night, you glance at your husband with an amused smile, he’s fresh out of the shower— golden skin shimmering with pearly droplets of water and hair matted wetly to his forehead. “who’s askin’, kats?” you coo, shifting to your knees as bakugou takes a seat on the edge of your shared bed, his lips drawn into a long frown— almost as if he’s pouting.

“i’m askin’, i swear t’god. these fuckin’ brats,” the blonde goes on to rant, the shower he’d just come from clearly not doing much to soothe the stresses of the day. circling an arm around his slender and unfortunately towelled waist from behind, you press burning kisses up and down the pro hero’s back and shoulders— hoping to calm katsuki just enough for him to get his thoughts into order. “one of my kids in class said i had no fuckin’ ‘rizz’ because ‘m ‘touchin’ thirty and haven’t got a damn ring in my finger yet. whatever that fuckin’ means.”

“rizz is like charisma, baby. like… how good you are at flirting or charming people,” keeping your words tender, you watch the clogs turn in katsuki’s head.

“that’s fuckin’ stupid.”

“awh but baby, you know what they said isn’t true…you’re the rizziest man i’ve ever met,” you can’t hide how hilarious you find the situation, still pressing tender kisses up katsuki’s neck until you reach just behind his ear— tugging on that spot with your teeth the way he likes. scratching at his wet scalp too. the bulking explosive man, with the roughest exterior and softest heart you’ve ever seen leans back into you, exhaling slowly through his nose. “where’s your wedding ring katsuki?”

he tilts his head back to look at you, love laced into his smoke screen and scarred eyes as pulls on a chain that sits comfortably against his neck, the golden band attached to it with his dog tags. “didn’t wanna lose it while trainin’ up the kids, today.” katsuki mumbles shyly. he’d done so once before almost in tears, only to find out you’d taken it to get cleaned of all the ash from his quirk.

brushing a thumb over his slightly chapped bottom lip, you smile at him again— taking in how beautiful katsuki looks under the warm glow of the lamp on your nightstand. “so what did you do? did’ya tell them you were married, with your baby keepin’ me up all night?” you say it like you’re exasperated, but while rolling his eyes katsuki knows you’re just kidding— happy to be stuck at home with your mini bakugou in the form of a precious little girl, blowing through his wallet to appease your cravings and soothe the boredom maternity leave brings with online shopping.

“of course i fuckin’ did,” he responds, failing to use his words as he tilts his head up for a kiss. a smile spreads slow on his lips, sexy and adorable all at once— a pleased look etched into bakugou’s features when you give into him and give him exactly what he wants. “showed them a picture of you.” he breathes into the lip lock, cheekily licking the words into your mouth.

“yeah?” you hum, pulling away from your husband with a glint in your eyes. “and how’d that work out for you, sweetpea?”

bakugou practically purrs at the pet name. he’ll never admit how much he loves to be babied — especially by you. “they believed me. said i had ‘infinite rizz’ whatever the hell that means too.” he lets you pull him into bed with you, let’s you crawl into his lap to get closer— his callous hands immediately settling on your hips, thumbs slipping under your (his) shirt to brush over the evidence of your pregnancy. stretch marks from your bump, the small scar from your c-section. “called you a milf as well, fuckin’ brats.”

“just means they think i’m hot and they’re surprised you that you managed to bag me. consider yourself lucky, mister dynamight.” you laugh again, sighing in content as bakugou massages the aches and pains— adoration pulsing through him because what you say is true. he is lucky. lucky that you stick around, that you’ve dealt with him for this long, that you love him the way you do and want him for the rest of your life. lucky to have his family, to have you.

and in the low light of your shared bedroom, it hits him all at once. the life that katsuki bakugou leads now, is a blessed one. he has a stable job teaching an amazing set of kids, his wife loves him more than anything and his little girl? well, she’ll be the death of him. but bakugou knows for a second he won’t take it all for granted, appreciating the quiet moments— like this, with his wife making a love-sick fool out of him, a smile of your lips so bright katsuki can see his future.

one that he never in a million years thought that he’d deserve.

“well then for once, they wouldn’t be too fuckin’ far off.” the blonde grins, pinching your hips lovingly— as if to get you back.

[ervotica]

i’m on the run with you (my sweet love)

pairing; rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings; sorta dark? but not really bc this is just rafe in character lol, established relationship, rafe is insane but also cute (i <3 deranged men), rafe is violent towards r and he cries a lot, 1k words

summary; you've reached the end of your tether with rafe's bad behaviour. just how far will he go when you try to leave?

He's so loud. It rings in your ears even as you walk away from him, trying to put distance between yourself and his growling; he's almost animalistic as he stumbles against the concrete sidewalk and grapples for purchase against your bare arm, a desperate attempt to get you to stay. Rafe has never been one to ask nicely for things. His rings leave a cold bite on your forearm and you sob, snatching out of his grasp even as he wails and cries.

"Rafe, stop," you're begging, pleading with him not to make a scene. He's flushed pink right down to his toes as he shakes, hands reaching out for you in a way that almost makes you reconsider leaving.

"You can't leave me," he says. Plain and simple, as though it's a fact. He's incredulous that the thought would even cross your mind in the first place- let alone that you're brave enough to try. "You can't."

"Rafe, this is unstable. I can't live like this anymore." Tears clog in your waterline and you sniffle and gasp, the back of your hand coming up to press against your open mouth. "I don't wanna do this. You've left me no other choice."

"No-no other choice?" he laughs through tears and grit teeth, an odd sound that gets lodged in his throat and then pushed out with a sob. "No other choice?"

He's alight with fury, pacing back and forth, gnawing on his fingernails as his hands flex, desperate to grab hold of you.

"Stop, you're scaring me," you murmur; stepping backwards away from him, a rock wedges in the sole of your sneaker and you lose balance. Just as you're about to hit the hard ground, Rafe surges forward, a thick arm wrapping around your waist and pressing you to his chest. The heat is emanating off of him in waves, coursing over you as his iron grip tightens.

"I'm scaring you, huh?" You're trembling as he whispers in that snarling way that he does- the tone that's usually directed at others, but never you. You don't like being on the receiving end of his wrath. "There'd be nothin' to be scared of if you just did as you were told, baby. Why do you insist on making everything so fuckin' difficult for me?"

You start to really cry then; in the middle of the street, sputtering in fits and starts, sagging in Rafe's hold when he shushes you and presses his palm to the top of your head to draw you into him.

"Shh, shh, I know," he mumbles, a thick bicep drawing tight as he wraps himself around your neck, quiet words vibrating against your skin.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" you wheeze against his shoulder, the cotton of his jersey soft as you rub your face on it in an effort to hide. "Why does it have to be like this?"

"It doesn't. It doesn't, okay? Let's go home and we can talk about this."

His arms shift your weight until he's lifting you, hooking your legs up and over him and carrying you to the car parked a little way away. In one last futile attempt to free yourself, you kick out, squirming.

Not that it makes much difference; he has the passenger door opened despite your resistance and then he's trying to force you in.

"No! I don't want to. Rafe, stop it."

"Baby, get in the car."

There's an edge to his voice and you know if you push him much further he's going to snap. He's like a coiled spring, and he'll lash out at whoever's closest.

"No, please," you sniffle. "I don't wanna go."

"Get in the damn car!" he screams, and you cry out as he throws you through the gap; your head hits the top of the door with a thump and you moan, curling in on yourself on the leather seat.

He slams the door and stomps around the front, brow knit, lips pursed as he climbs into the driver's seat.

He takes a breath. The mist starts to clear from his eyes. You're still doubled over, fingers splayed over the forming bruise on your forehead.

"Angel," he murmurs, reaching for you. "Baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You swat his hand away and wince at the throbbing in your temple. His breath quickens and you can feel how he convulses; from experience, he's around 3 minutes from a total meltdown.

"Rafe, calm down," you say, blindly reaching for him to placate his temper, if nothing else. "It's okay, I'm fine."

He coughs and snivels, clenched fists pressed to his eyes to conceal the tears. He's frozen with them, silent as he sobs and brings his head up to slam it against the steering wheel. You swivel in your seat, hands pressing to the sides of his neck in an attempt to keep him still.

"No, baby, no," you sniff. "Come here. I'm sorry."

He starts to turn towards you, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed as he hiccups. And then he's climbing right over the armrest and into your lap. It's comical, really; this huge, hulking boy crawling into your arms like a puppy.

He curls around you, laying between your thighs, his legs bent awkwardly in the footwell as he presses his face to the hollow of your throat.

"I'm sorry," he cries. "I just love you so much, I don't want you to go." His voice cracks and he wraps his arms around your middle, slipping cold fingers beneath your t-shirt to feel your bare skin.

"I'm not going," you murmur. Your lip quivers as you stave off tears. "But we need to get this under control, Rafe. I need you to try to get better."

"I will. I will, I promise. I'll be better for you."

You tilt his chin up and his watering eyes meet yours. You slot your lips between his and sigh when his whole body softens against you.

"I love you," you tell him. "We'll get this under control, okay?"

You suppose only time will tell.

[semperamans]

HEAR ME OUT: I just read the Jhonny smut and I writhed in happiness, IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME, on the other hand, something now circles my little head at that part "just like Benny taught ya" EHMM????? yeah, I need that.

I BEG YOU CLO

somethin’ of a prequel to this <3 hope u enjoy :’)

the sun’s goodbye is long n’drawn out as she traipses through the sky. she even stops at your place; peeking through the windows, spying on you and benny as you lounge atop your pretty flowery sheets. benny thinks you look like an angel; hair splayed over the pillow, eyes bright, smile soft, but then again an angel surely wouldn't ask what you just did. he goes quiet - too quiet - and now you’re embarrassed. you turn shy at his silence, capturing your bottom lip between your teeth, tuggin’ your body into a sitting position, turning your chin toward the ground.

“jus’ wanna be good for ‘em.” you reason in a voice that is no louder than the wind whispering through the window screen n' just audible above the delicate whip of your white curtains. "will you teach me?"

an' there’s somethin' about the vulnerability in your voice that makes benny wanna get closer to you, so he does. you just look so cute, all slouched defeatedly beside him: eyes downcast, lashes fluttering to keep tears away, that he has no choice but to reach out: cuppin' your jaw in his calloused palms, makin' you look at him.

“pretty,” he breathes the nickname johnny calls you n’it feels good; all light and airy on his tongue. the adjective has you sitting up straighter - preening and proud and staring at him wide-eyed and mesmerized. benny doesn’t know how it's possible but his love for you grows; stretchin' over his face in a passive smile. “baby,” he clicks his tongue against his teeth, sucking in a breath. “i jus’ dunno if i can do what you’re askin’.” but he wants to. he really fuckin’ wants to. the mere thought makes him giddy and hard and it shouldn’t because, fuck, regardless of what has happened in the past, you are johnny's girl. n'yeah, sometimes benny doesn't know who he is more jealous of, but that's beside the point. he can't do this - shouldn't want to do this - because johnny isn't here and everything he's done with you has been supervised by the older man. those spit-soaked breathless declarations of love grunted into the plush of your lips was okay'd by johnny. the lingering touches n'drunken late-night cuddles were approved by johnny and surely this isn't what johnny meant when he had benny promise to help you when he was out truckin'. it feels wrong, but benny can't help but see it as an opportunity. what was that his momma was always rattling on about never lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth? maybe the real life equivalent is never turnin’ a pretty girl down when she asks you to teach her to give a fuckin’ handjob.

“jus' wanna watch, s'all." your voice is garbled; shame clogging your windpipe as you shake your head, nuzzling into benny's palm, pressing a kiss to his heartline. "jus' let me watch." those big wet eyes soften as he scrapes his thumb along your bottom lip, collecting spit and chapstick on his journey n'he'd love nothing more than to pop the digit in his mouth just to get a taste of you, but he can't. he shouldn't, but then you're movin' closer, naked knees kissin' his, chiffon nightgown riding up your thigh and he knows he's fucked. "johnny'd be okay with it. loves you, y'know? n'plus, you know 'em better than anyone. you'll know what he likes.. what to show me." you're right - of course - benny does know exactly what johnny likes, and, shit - the old man's birthday is comin' up. if benny can teach ya the proper way to jerk a cock then that'd be somethin' of a gift, right? johnny's own gift horse.

he's also never told you no n'doesn't plan on starting now.

“alright,” he concedes. “i’ll help ya.”

your tears have dried, but your nose is still red n'benny can't help but smile at the way excitement practically drips off you as you watch him. you're sitting on your feet at the foot of the bed, hands folded nicely in your lap, waiting oh so patiently.

"what's got you obsessin' over this?" he asks, situating your fluffy pillow behind his head. he's trying to act like he's calm and cool n'not at all like he's about to cum in his fuckin' pants at the mere thought of jerking himself off with you less than three feet away. a soft smile plays your lips, shoulder kissing the underside of your jaw in a shrug.

"jus' feel like i need to get better at it," you have that breathless lilt in your voice - the one benny fuckin' adores - and he's already so hard it hurts. he's already so hard he's embarrassed, but you're such a respectful girl n'your eyes never wander past his neck - not yet anyway. "n'you're so good to me, benny. so good. figured you'd be the best person to ask." his cock twitches at your words, hips jumping at the soft tug of skin on cotton, n'he's ready. knows he won't last if you keep lookin' at him with those bitten-red lips so he goes for it.

"alright," he says. this is fine. "m'gonna - i guess - just - you know."

"touch yourself?" you ask, head cocked to the right like a goddamn puppy and he has to bite back a moan. you're too cute to be sayin' things like that - voice too soft, so sweet.

"yeah," benny nods, swallowing hard. "jus' gonna touch m'self. n'you can watch." he looses a breath, tells himself to calm the fuck down, and centers his attention. "johnny's always liked when ya - you know - press on 'em through his jeans." n'so benny does just that, palm now delivering delicious friction on his cotton covered dick. "never wanna do it too hard, just - fuck - just a little bit of pressure." you hum in acknowledgment, leaning forward just a bit. such a good listener. "s'jus' somethin' you do to get 'em goin' - warm 'em up." but benny is more than warmed up - his engine is fucking overheating - so he quickly moves on, poppin' the button with his thumb and index finger expertly. he slips his ringed hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, grunting at the dull tug of his rough hand against his smooth shaft.

"s'okay?" your voice is so sweet n' sugary that benny wants to sink his teeth into it.

"s'too dry. gotta make sure y've got some kinda lubrication. y'know? makes it nice and slick." like you benny wants to say, but doesn't. he withdrawals his hand, spits into it, and pushes the sloppy mess back into his shorts. "wanna - mm - wanna make sure it's nice and wet, yeah? could hurt 'em if you don't have enough spit on there."

"okay," you repeat, nodding. then, "can - benny can you - maybe, take 'em off? please? jus' so i can see?"

"can you take 'em off for me?" no no no he shouldn't have said that - should'a just stayed quiet - but you're undeterred. sweet face bright, head nodding fervently as benny retracts his hand and lets you delicately tug the fabric down down down until his cock is springing upward, smacking wetly against his stomach.

"wow," you murmur "s'pretty," those eyes peer up at him shyly, n'he has to look away because it's too much. he can't teach you how to jerk anyone off if he cums in the first two minutes. he's gotta get it together, but it's hard. your eyes meet once again, your smile grows when he thanks you n'pinches the round of your cheek.

"will you keep going? keep teachin' me?" you make no move to return to the corner of the bed, instead, you stay right where you are, knee wedged into the outer meat of benny's thigh. he certainly can't stop now.

"yeah, pretty. yeah. okay." his cock is so reactive to the cool air wooshing in through the window, so reactive to the sweet girl staring at it, that it weeps. precum oozes from the tip; seeps into the gentle divot of his belly button and over his knuckles. it's hard to hold back, but he does because he's good to you n'good to johnny. which reminds him, "whenever you grab 'em, don't wanna do it too tight. don't be squeezin' too hard, not at first, 'kay?"

"m'kay benny."

"just wanna - do it - like this." he demonstrates, curling his fingers 'round the base, stroking up gently. "n'johnny likes when ya twist your wrist, just - god - like this." the spit and precum make his cock glisten - make the stroke from base to tip that much more pleasurable - and you look starstruck; mouth hanging open, pupils following up and down and up and down and -

"benny can i try?"

he moans - too loud - too obscene for the quiet of your room. the mere thought of you watchin' is enough to make him bust, let alone you putting your hands on him. he lets out a shaky breath, and starts to tell you how that is not a good idea, how you shouldn't, how he doesn't want to coat your freshly painted nails in cum, but he doesn't. he doesn't say anything - just nods his head.

you wiggle closer, scoochin' between his thighs and he's not going to make it. he knows he simply will not make it out of this room alive with the way you're leanin' over him - inspecting his cock like you've never seen one when he knows you have. and then - jesus christ - you're holding up your hand, spitting into it the way he taught you and circling your fingers just above the mass of curls near his balls.

"oh fuck."

"m'sorry." you squeak, instantly letting go, but benny is thrashing his head to the side. grunt tearing from his throat.

"no, baby, god, s'okay. doin' good. g'head. do it again. move your hands, little faster."

and you do and it's so good - so talented you are. grip not too tight, just right. your little fingers are coated in his precum and your combined spit and he almost forgets why you're doin' this - for johnny - so you can learn for johnny.

"flick your wrist right - yeah yeah - right there each time, baby. fuck. s'good. johnny's g'nna be so proud of you. g'nna do so good for him. make 'em feel so special n'good." benny s'never much of a talker but he'd fucking write sonnets if it meant you'd keep your fist wrapped around him. you're pullin' noises out of him that you never knew he could make n'so you just have to ask

"s'this what johnny sounded like when you learned on 'em?" and benny almost chokes on your words, but they only seem to spur him on; warmth coils in his belly, brushes against his balls, and settles deep in his cock.

"god, yeah." he remembers so clearly it fuckin' brings tears to his eyes. "b-but i think y'gonna be better than me, darlin'. got such a - jesus - good grip. look so pretty tuggin' my cock." benny's golden halo of curls spreads across the pillow as he tips his head, relishing in the repetitive schlick of skin on skin. you're makin' these cute little preens he's only ever heard through the wall when you’re with johnny and fuck fuck fuck it's coming. he knows it's coming, can feel his balls drawing up, feel his breath quickening, warmth spreadin' through his every artery.

"gonna cum, baby. fuck. gotta show you - oh fuck - whenever i tell ya, need ya to put your mouth on it? 'kay? no teeth, keep strokin', yeah? be a good girl. do it for me? for johnny?"

"yeah," you murmur. "yeah. okay, benny" you keep your grip firm as he fucks into your fist. he's desperate. you never thought you'd use the word to describe benny but he's so desperate making all of these pretty sounds as his legs twitch and shake; as he calls you beautiful and pretty and perfect.

"fuck, now. now. now."

you're great at following the rules - johnny always tells ya - so you bend, wrapping your lips around benny's tip, allowing him to fuck into your fist and mouth as he paints your tongue with his seed. it's dirty and euphoric and everything. you are everything to benny. everything as his world is diminished to nothing and he’s born again.

"c-c'mere." he pants, after a few moments. he doesn’t wait for you to act on your own; strong hands grab your forearms, pulling you up, pressin' you against his mouth. he can taste himself on your lips, sweet and salty and he can't stop. he licks and licks and licks until any trace of him is gone, until he thinks he can taste johnny. until he can't breathe. "s'a good job, baby.” he shudders. “johnny's gonna be so happy."

and he is.

it's many days and handjobs later when johnny finally stumbles into the darkened house, stopping to catch you as you fling yourself on him. n'god, it's good to be home. good to feel his sweet girl so warm in his arms. his scruff scratches your neck as he breathes you in, n'he can smell it. smell him. benny.

"you were right," you breathe, smiling wide. "benny taught me."

"n'how'd it go?"

"let me show you."