#i didn’t like ‘heat above’ for the longest time

[yellowsubiesdance]

i heard greta van fleet before i knew it was them, and i absolutely thought it was a woman singing. but for some reason, knowing the lead singer is a man changes my feelings on the band, i have no idea why.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

SO MUCH FOR SUMMER LOVE

katsuki bakugou x reader

summer love thoughts with bakugou

in honor of august <3

to love katsuki was to not need anything more.

whims of salty air and sunlight poured through the windows of your shared apartment. you loved summer, loved the warmth and long days. you adored the butterflies and the bumblebees, the cicadas that hushed you to sleep and the birds that compassionately sang you awake. you loved walking beneath the trees and alongside the blooming flowers, in their prime and ready to fall back in love.

what you loved most about summer, however, was your boyfriend.

katsuki bakugou glowed in the summertime- quite literally, because the sun seemed to favour him towards anyone else. whenever he went on long walks with you, always practicing the sidewalk rule with his arm around your waist, it was as though that bright burning star gave him little kisses from above. he looked so beautiful and you weren’t even sure if he knew it. the sky blessed him with a gorgeous sun-kissed tan that dared you to rome your hands up and down his skin. how could you resist something so gorgeous and so, utterly yours?

katsuki was someone that ran hot more than cold, especially during the summertime. he prefers to be shirtless anyway. so you’re given the privilege of seeing his back beneath the sun, the way every contour of his unreasonably gorgeous muscles hugged the sun’s golden glow perfectly. he’d lay on his stomach by the window, just feeling the warmth while your fingers trace lazy circles over his back. god, the way he hums when he feels your touch on him. he’ll lazily shift his head over to look at you, hooded crimson eyes staring into yours with nothing but pure love. he’ll utter a quick “what are you doing?” as if he’s complaining- but you both know he’s not. his voice is irresistibly deep when he’s resting, especially when its warm and the summer heat has him dazed.

you love katsuki when he’s under the sun. katsuki looks at you like you are the sun.

you’ll be in bed together, the sun’s setting glow casting a warmth like a stage light over the sheets. he kisses every part of you, hands roaming up and down your skin as if trying to warm you up after the longest winters of your life when he wasn’t there. you two will be absolutely twisted in the bedsheets, limbs pressed against each other and hearts thumping almost in sync. he can’t help the way his eyes roam over your body when your under him, savouring you with the fear that you’ll slip away in a moment in time. he doesn’t know that it’s impossible for you to slip away, because you’re never not his. he’s uncharacteristically gentle at times like this, whispering “are you sure? are you okay? did that feel good? did you see heaven when i just did?”

god, he wishes he could write his name on you. to assure himself that this is real, that you’re real. that he didn’t just make this up. that he doesn’t just think he has you, and that he does truly have you. you can feel it in the way he holds you, how his arms never leave your body when next to him. how he presses quick kisses to your head and shoulder when he’s just passing by you. you can feel it in the way he loves you, how he’s changing for the better for you. how he’ll keep working hard and growing, keep fighting to be the greatest damn hero there ever was just so he can go home to you. sure, the sun gave him life, but he honestly didn’t think he’d need the sun if he had you.

and honestly, he loves you so much that wanting is enough for him. of course he wants you to love him back, and he’s sure you do, but he’s also thought that just having these feelings is enough for him. he’ll tolerate that shitty star in the sky if he can’t have your love, because at least the skies gifted him with your existence.

but he does have you. he has you when you’re bathed in sunlight or kissed by the moon. when you’re drooling over his tanned state or gasping his name like a symphony. he has you in the summer and through every other season. he’s not alone, regardless of whether or not the flowers bloom or wither in the snow. katsuki bakugou gets to say “us.” because its you.

i may write a second part we’ll see 🐚 to live for the hope of it all!

[the-californicationist]

The Window (Ch. 03)

Ch. 01 // Ch. 02 // Ch. 03 --- AO3

TW: breeding kink, reverse harem

You were sweating buckets in this brush cover, waiting for the enemy to pop their head over the fence. Beads of salty perspiration ran down your face in thin rivulets, threatening your eyes and soaking into your keffiyeh. 

“You alright, little bird?” Price whispered down to you breathlessly, passing you his canteen. 

You nodded, drinking from the plastic container, slaking your thirst. You shouldn’t have been having such a hard time with the Urzikstani heat, but you were. It didn’t help that you’d gotten sick yesterday off of a bad MRE. You were just ready for this mission to be over with. 

“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I, Spar?” Ghost asked, checking his sights again, not taking his eyes off of the target. 

“No,” you shook your head, “I’m alright.”

Ghost’s comment made your memory of your night together rush back, bombarding you with ghosts of your mens’ tantric sensations all over again. 

Price had read another book about fertility, some ancient text from a few centuries ago, translated into English. And he’d been convinced that tantra was the way to go. 

“Slow down, Simon. Keep your breathing up, yeah just like that. From your belly. Tha’s a good lad,” the captain coached. 

John’s setup was very specific. All of their bodies were sandwiched around you as you lay with your back on Price’s chest, propped up into a lounging position, and Soap and Gaz were glued to your sides, each worshiping a breast at their commander’s instruction. 

Soap’s hand was glued to your belly, just above your mons, pressing down gently, squeezing you. Gaz’s hand was on your midsection, hopefully covering the right chakra, and Price’s hands were on your chest and forehead, holding your eyes up, staring into Simon’s struggling face. Meanwhile, Ghost was sheathed deep inside of you, rotating his hips without fully removing his cock, churning himself inside of you like a big, burly engine, breathing like he was running a marathon. 

You, too, were breathing. In when he breathed in, out when he breathed out. All of you were rubbing and massaging and inhaling and exhaling. It was overwhelming. You’d never been so wet in your life. You were so soft and pliant inside of your core that you could feel every micro movement that Simon performed. If he had actually been pounding into you like he normally did, you would have been a screaming, crying mess. 

“Alright, little bird. Don’t forget your exercises,” Price reminded you, kissing your neck. You could feel John’s drooling cock as it lolled against your lower back, twitching as he watched his lieutenant work you into a froth. 

You did as you were told, completing the ritual by squeezing your smooth, internal muscles around Ghost’s impossibly fat dick on every down breath. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Ghost grunted through his teeth, baring them like a wounded wolf, “I can’t…”

You raised your hands to cup his cheeks, feeling the jagged scar that cut across his mouth, and you guided his lips to yours, kissing him as gently as you could, barely letting your tongue dart out to taste him. 

Between your throbbing pussy and his soft kisses, that was all it took to push you both over the edge. He came in hot, thick bursts, more than you’d ever felt from him, and he ground his hips into yours almost menacingly. 

“Alright,” Price kissed your cheek, his face so close to Simon’s it made your head spin, “You ready?”

You didn’t respond. You just felt your legs being spread apart by six strong hands. Then, each of Price’s men began to finger you, slowly pressing their longest digits into your come-filled hole. They began to gently — ever so gently — rub Ghost’s thick cream into you, as deep as it would go, stretching you and playing in you in a life-altering way, bringing you beyond the point of orgasm and into some sort of other-worldly bliss. 

For the cherry on top, your captain began to swipe long, wet circles over your clit. You were screaming so loudly that he had to use his other hand to cover your mouth, shushing you but not stopping his ministrations.  

“Tha’s a good girl. Let it out, little bird.”

You passed out from the overstimulation before you could witness Price’s orchestrated tantra come to a close, and you wondered if you would survive round two. 

Now, as you crouched behind these scratchy bushes, you weren’t sure how much more effective tantric sex would be at getting you pregnant, but it didn’t matter. 

You already were. 

You hadn’t told them yet. From everything you’d read, these first few weeks were a toss-up. Anything could happen, and the last thing you needed was to get everyone’s hopes up. You were also being deeply selfish. What would your relationship be like when you finally found out who the father was? You didn’t want to lose out on the incredible bond you’d built with them over these last three months. 

Your eyes saw movement. Then, you heard the cracking and popping sound of bullets striking the side of the building you were huddled against. Suddenly, a loud bang rang out overhead and all was silent once more. Soap came on the radio and said, 

“Target down.” 

“I’m hit,” you whispered, staring down at your leg with disbelief. A bullet must have ricocheted and struck you in the calf. In and out. A clean wound. 

“What?” Price said breathlessly, staring down at you as the blood began to stain your pants. 

“Oh, fuck!” Gaz scrambled over to you and scooped you up, rushing you back inside. He put pressure on the wound and wrapped it up tight, opening up his comms, “Hey! We need med-evac right fucking now!”

Johnny came down from his crow’s nest and knelt in front of you, holding your hand, 

“Those fuckin’ bastards,” he looked furious, “I wasnae fast enough.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head, feeling your blood pressure rise, “I think it was a stray shot.”

You heard Price’s low growl as he came over the radio, screaming at Laswell’s extraction team, 

“Where’s my fuckin’ helo?”

You watched as Price and Ghost stripped the makeshift base back to its bones, stuffing all of your gear into the bags. Gaz and Soap were on you like glue, forcing you to elevate your leg and to drink water. Rubbing your forehead, trying to relieve the pain. 

It was a long thirty minutes back to the base. Price held you in his arms all the way through the building, pushing everyone out of the way. You were flanked by the others, like one big, sweaty bodyguard squad, just for you. 

The medics took you from Price, ushering your team out of the infirmary, fighting their protests to stay with you.

“It’s a GSW to the leg, captain. I think she’ll live,” the doctor rolled his eyes and shut the door. 

After that, the only thing you could remember was coming around, still groggy from the anesthetic, listening to the doctor’s voice just outside the room, muffled and murky,

“...no complications. Should heal up in a few weeks. The baby’s lifesigns are all norm—”

“Baby?!” 

The door to the infirmary shuddered like a bomb went off, and all four men poured into the room, still dressed in their gear from your mission. They hadn’t even gone back to their quarters, worried sick, pacing the hallway. Now, here they were, wide-eyed and staring at you for some explanation. 

There was a long pause as you tried to figure out what to say. But then, Soap said it for you, a hint of hurt in his voice,

“You knew.”

It wasn’t a question, so you didn’t answer him. You simply put your hands over your belly, protectively, stammering an excuse,

“I didn’t — You shouldn’t get your hopes up. It’s too soon.”

They all spoke at once, an eruption of emotion in the tiny room, 

“...should’ve told us at once! We…”

“...you felt you had to hide it…”

“...could’ve been killed on this mission! How could…”

The doctor came back inside, huffing at the scene,

“What the fuck is this? Mamma Mia? Get the hell out! She needs rest. Get! That’s an order, Captain.”

Price and his men were silent, sorely cowed by the doctor’s orders. Soap came to your side, kissing your forehead,

“See you soon, bonnie.”

Ghost gave you a soft smile and followed him out. Gaz brushed the hair out of your face and put his hand over yours as they lay across your belly, waiting for flutters and kicks that weren’t there. His full lips found yours and he left you wordlessly.

John was the last to leave. He looked like he was at war with himself, fighting over what to say and how to say it. His boonie hat was twisted in his hands, rolled in his palms, crushed by his immense strength. He didn’t kiss you. He didn’t even say goodbye. But, those bright blue eyes bored into yours, telling you everything you needed to know. 

You were released with a pair of crutches the following morning, and while you didn’t need them there, none of the boys showed up to help you like you thought they would. You made it all the way back to your quarters before you ran into Laswell. 

“Hey, Sparrow. How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live. Where is the 141? Is there a training or something?”

“No,” Laswell knitted her brow, not wanting to share her news, “You’ve been… temporarily reassigned. They have redeployed on another mission. Three days in Aqtabi. I’m sure they’ll touch base when they get back.”

“Reassigned?” You couldn’t believe it. You knew Price was protective, but this was going too far, “I’m… He took me off the team?”

“It’s temporary. Just until…” You watched in disbelief as her eyes trailed down not to your wound but to your belly, “Well, anyway, congratulations, soldier.”

She gave you a soft smile and left you standing in the hallway, experiencing every emotion at once, and landing on anger. No, not anger. White-hot rage.

[lordprettyflackotara]

till dawn || eyeless jack || the finale

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. this one’s a lil fluffy not gonna hold you guys. i’m so sad to see till dawn end :’) but all good things must come to an end eventually. i think down the line i will create a bonus chapter, but for now this is the end of till dawn. love you all. mwah!

bonus part is here

Knock knock knock!

A groan of annoyance left your lips, your senses resuming as you regained consciousness.

“Wake up fuckers! You owe us waffles!” Ben’s cheery voice flooded your ears, his voice echoing down the hallway outside of Jacks room. You sighed, rolling over and shoving Jack awake. A confused snore escaped his lips, his eye sockets finally opening.

“Huh?”

“Ben wants waffles,” You sighed, flopping back down onto your pillow. Unfortunately you both had lost one too many rounds of mario kart, resorting in a wager of cooking breakfast to end in Ben’s favor. Jack groaned. “Okay Ben give us five minutes!” He called. You rubbed your eyes, looking over at the window. The sun had just reached above the trees, the sunlight beams streaming across the room. A triumphant Ben continued down the hallway, whistling proudly.

“Holy fuck, what time is it?”

Jack chuckled, sitting up against the headboard.

“I told you we’d only have till dawn before someone showed up at our doorstep about breakfast.”

He was right, but converting to rising at the early hours and staying up late was exhausting. You rolled over lazily, your back turned to him. “Have none of them ever heard of sleep schedules?” You grumbled. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle, your settlement into the mansion one that occurred with ease. Your charming personality and ability to cook won everyone over, even the proxies.

“We live in Slender’s mansion babe, we’re lucky the sun even rises here,” Jack replied, pressing a soft kiss against the back of your head. Slenderman’s reaction was a completely different story, the explanation of your existence the longest tale Jack had ever had to explain. Letting humans know about creeps existence was grounds for exile. It was forbidden to make spectacles out of themselves, even if the long term plan was for you to become a creep. (Which, it was not even an option to Jack.)

Becoming one, losing that grasp on sanity or facing an unfortunate fate of torture and death could never be planned though. Unless of course you were Jeff, then you knew how to create an arch nemesis. Jack would never want that for you, which he explained to Slender. Out of all of the mansions residents and outsiders, there was not another creature like Jack. A creature that went into an animalistic heat and needed to mate. Slender knew this and that led to his approval.

Another factor that Slender considered was that Jack was the oldest and wisest. If he was to entrust anyone to bring a human into the house, it was him.

Jack curled up beside you, your back pressing against his chest. “Sleepy this morning are we?” Jack asked teasingly, peppering kisses on your neck and shoulder. You chuckled, moving yourself closer to him. “I would’ve gotten better sleep if someone hadn’t kept me up all night,” You replied. A mischievous smile spread across Jacks lips, his hand slithering down to your hips.

“If it makes you feel any better i’m sure Clockwork didn’t get much sleep either,” Jack said, his lips refusing to stray far from your skin. His hand slithered further up your skin, slipping under your nightgown. You bit your bottom lip, Jacks fingertips lightly tracing your skin. “Thats gonna make a terrible first impression,” You sighed. Clockwork didn’t frequent at the mansion, leading to you never officially meeting her. Having her room be next door and hearing you beg for more? Not exactly the best first impression.

“There have been worse my love. When Jeff first came here Slender tried to make him a proxy. He tried to burn the mansion down,” Jack said, cupping your heart. Your thin panties blocked him from complete access to your cunt. Your breath was becoming shaky, your thighs opening more for him. He inhaled deeply, the smell of your arousal hitting his nostrils. “You just can’t get enough can you?” Jack teased. You groaned softly as he rubbed more harshly against the fabric.

“Of you? Never,” You replied, satisfied to feel Jack push your panties to the side. His lips attached themselves to your neck, his boner poking you from behind. You could feel him suck at your skin harshly, purposefully littering your neck with as many marks as possible. “I’m going to keep looking like a wounded puppy if my neck stays forever purple,” You chuckled, gasping as his fingers rubbed up and down your wet slick. You bit your bottom lip, two of his digits dipping into your cunt.

“My wounded puppy,” Jack snickered. He curled his fingers inside of you, your hand finding its way to his aching cock. He gasped as you palmed at the fabric of his basketball shorts, slipping your hand underneath the waistband. “Not sure if we’re doing to have time for this love,” Jack admitted, even if he didn’t want it to be true. You moaned in response, pumping his shaft as he finger fucked you. “It can be quick,” You offered. You bit the inside of your cheek, refraining from moaning louder.

“Please,” You whimpered, sealing your fate. Jack grinned, the two of you eagerly switching positions. Jacks back hit the soft mattress, licking his lips as you straddled him. Your panties had been discarded, his shorts and boxers pooling at his ankles. Jack was never one to not be in control of sex, even with you riding him. Sometimes he’d let you pretend you were in control, if he was feeling nice enough. But each time you got a bit out of line, Jack was quick to put you in your place. However, he couldn’t deny how ethereal you looked riding him.

You lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you exhaling in relief as he bottomed out inside of you. The shape of his cock bugled from your stomach as it always did, a subtle, very hot reminder that he was much bigger than you. Jacks hands found your hips, leaning forward to kiss you as he guided you. You groaned into his mouth as you rode his cock, his tip hitting your g spot. Playfully you grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed. Jack admired your breast bouncing as you chased your high, riding him like a wild animal.

Your body over time came to crave Jacks almost identically to the way he craved yours. (He couldn’t help but wonder if scientifically his cum had altered your hormones.) You smiled lovingly as you looked down at Jack, his facial expression one of contentment. The sun had risen higher, hitting his face at a flattering angle. It highlighted his sharp jawline and round nose. “What’s so funny?” Jack asked. You shook your head, continuing to hold your sinful noises in the best you could as you rode his cock. “You just look so handsome like this,” You complimented.

Jack blinked, “What, under you?”

You giggled, playfully slapping his shoulder. “No EJ, with the sun shining on your skin,” You replied, rolling your eyes. Jack leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your back. He completely and utterly adored you, your flattery and complimentary of him meaning the world. “You look even better, so beautiful taking my cock like this,” He huffed, snapping his hips upwards. You whined as he began to move faster, taking control. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, biting down on his skin to control your noises.

“Thats it, bite me as hard as you want love. Mark me,” Jack panted, his cock abusing your cervix. He was tempted to say hell to breakfast, flipping you over and fucking you senseless like the animal inside of him craved. But he knew you cared about his roommates opinion of you, even if to Jack he wouldn’t consider them friends five out of seven days of the week. Your teeth sank into Jacks shoulder, a subtle growl escaping his throat.

Something about seeing you so primal, but so desperate to keep quiet made him pound into you harder. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, a trail of saliva dripping down Jacks shoulder as your teeth clenched around his skin. You whimpered, your hands tangling themselves in his hair as you came on his cock. Your walls spasmed around his shaft, a deep grunt escaping his lips as he came inside of you.

You released his shoulder, grimacing down at the bite mark. “Holy fuck, I don’t know where that came from,” You panted. Neither of you had moved, Jacks gaze moving to your breast. “Neither do I, but it was pretty fucking hot,” He admitted, kissing your breast.

‘Waffles! Waffles! Waffles!’

The sound of Toby and Ben chanting from downstairs made you chuckle. Jack could hear them slamming their silverware down on the kitchen table, the sound making his ears twitch. You slowly slid off of you, whimpering as your walls squeezed the air. His cum slowly dripped down your cunt, the sight the most satisfying sight to Jack in the world. He laid back on the bed, propping himself up with his hands behind his head.

He admired you as you brushed your hair, throwing on clothes. You were so focused, Jacks staring going over your head. It wasn’t until you were ready, turning around to find Jack undressed and unbothered. “What are you doing? Ben’s gonna come through our radio any minute now if you don’t get dressed,” You say. Jack rose to his feet, bringing your back against his chest. He towered over you easily, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“How did I ever get so lucky?” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. You giggled, examining your stomach. “Do you think you’ll ever get me pregnant one of these days?” You asked curiously. Jacks eyebrows furrowed, his large hands resting on top of yours. “You do know that’s scientifically impossible right?” He asked. Yeah, maybe his cum was seeping into your hormones. Or maybe your brain.

“Yeah it’s still a nice thought though,” You shrug. Turning around you wrapped your arms around his neck, admiring him from below. Your eyes were dancing with curiosity. Tilting your head to the side a simple question left your tongue, “If I somehow did, you’d want to keep it right?”

Millions of thoughts soared through Jacks mind, ones mixed with the joy of parenthood and ones of terror. Would the fetus become a demon just like him? Or would it be as beautiful as you? What would it eat? Would raising a child in a mansion full of monsters from its worst nightmares be sustainable? But as he looked down at your puppy dog eyes, your orbs flickering back and forth as you awaited an answer.

Creeps had never procreated before, successfully anyways. It would be a first for all of them, especially Jack. He wanted to believe there was a piece of him that wasn’t an organ eating monster. One that could raise and love a child that was a mixture with the person he loved the most. He was almost sure he would’ve gotten you pregnant by now, with the amount of times he’d locked you into the mating press alone.

Truth was Jack would give you whatever you wanted, even if it was most likely scientifically impossible. “I want whatever you want my love,” He purred, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

Bang bang bang!

“EJ learn how to keep it in your pants and pour some batter in the waffle maker instead!” Ben called.

You giggled, Jack sighing as he pulled on his pants.

“And in the mean time we have Ben.”

“We most certainly do and that’s enough for me.”

[tatsumessy]

Missed calls - {itoshi sae}

“gosh you’re so fucking annoying. I wanted to call my girlfriend so that I could calm down from the huge amount of stress I’m already under and here you are acting like a nagging clingy psycho.” before any other words could be spoken you hung up the phone placing it on the nightstand.

Sae <3: I’m sorry.

Sae <3: y/n?

1 missed call

5 missed calls

12 missed calls

20 missed calls

hearing your phone ring once again you picked up up furiously screaming into the phone. “WHAT?” you yelled out of character, there was silence before he spoke, “you’re ignoring my calls.” without answering you slammed your phone on the nightstand not before turning on do not disturb.

you and sae had gotten in a pretty heated argument which ultimately ended with you hanging up the phone and ignoring it. he is in the states right now for a tournament so he can’t come to you. usually his sullen, dull, asshole personality would be just fine because that’s what you’re used too but this time he went too far.

he seemed like he didn’t even care. he wasn’t due to come back until next month so you opted to block his number leaving him with his “issues” that he has to deal with. if he thinks you’re clingy, fine. you’ll just go on about your business and leave him to do whatever he wanted. he always acts like he doesn’t want to be in a relationship so why not give him the freedom he’s wanted.

sae the moment those words came out his mouth felt like a dick. you were only worried because he had gotten trashed in an interview and it was shown on tv everywhere. he was frustrated and took it out of you, he knew the choice of words that he spoke was wrong but he said it anyways.

after you hung up on him he decided to wait until the morning to talk to you but his text weren’t going through and his calls weren’t either. “I’m sorry, the number you have dialed-” he tossed his phone on the hotel bed grabbing his head in frustration. his day was already starting horrible, usually you two would call each other in the morning and talk about what you’d do during the day so that you two knew when to call each other later.

two weeks passed and at this point he had called your number at least 40 times a day. any free second he had he would call you or text you, this is the longest you two had ever gone without talking to each other and he was seriously getting worried. getting back to his hotel for the night he laid down on his back holding his phone above his face. his phone was basically stuck on your contact card and that was the only form of you he had besides the endless albums of you in his photos or his rotating lockscreen picture.

he backed out of your contact and went to his brother’s reluctantly pressing the call button and waiting for him to answer. “what?” he spoke and sae was already rolling his eyes at his brother attitude. “can you check on y/n?” rin let out an annoyed sigh and sae could hear shuffling on his end of the phone. “y/n are you okay?” he heard you say yeah in the background confused then he heard more shuffling before rin spoke up again.

“she’s fine.” he was about to hang up but sae needed to ask, “why are you with y/n?” “we have dinner ever sunday together.” before any more questions could be asked rin hung up the phone leaving sae feeling more empty than he already was.

a month passed and now with him coming home he was excited to see you but he needed to win this game before going home to you.

you were sitting in your car outside of the stadium debating on whether or not you wanted to go in. you had never missed any of his home games and you didn’t want to start, you just kept going back to your argument. the night sae called rin, that was the only time he had ever come over to yours and sae’s apartment for dinner. you had spoken to him about what happened and even though him and his brother aren’t really that close he gave you good advice.

“sae is an asshole, that not a secret. he doesn’t think before he speaks and doesn’t think about the damage his words can cause. all I have to say is he has never called me for anything relatively important but he just called me to ask if you were okay. I can’t speak for him, he said what he said and now he’s paying the price for it. only speak to him when you are ready.” he ended with that before leaving.

last night when you unblocked his number all the messages and missed calls that you missed flowed through your phone all at once. tears prickled on your bottoms lash line reading all of his text messages. the last one had you crying yourself to sleep while hugging his pillow.

sae <3: this is the last message I’ll send tonight. tomorrow we’re coming back and I would love to see you. I know you are probably still upset with me and I would be too. I hurt the person I love so bad to the point where we haven’t spoken in a month. I miss you, I love you and if you come to the game and even though I’m we haven’t worked things out, if you wear my jersey tomorrow I’ll know that we’ll be okay. sweet dreams princess i love you.

he was right, you were still pissed but you missed sae, prior to the argument he’d been gone for a month already and that made you miss him so much more. the sheets didn’t smell like him anymore nor did his pillow. you wanted sae back but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. unzipping your jacket you slipped the long sleeve over your head then pulled down the mirror to fix your hair and makeup.

~

you sat in the VIP section in your normal seat playing on your phone until the game ended. everyone stood up leaving the area while you stayed put, you could see sae being interviewed by someone but because of the distance you couldn’t tell if he was actually paying attention which irked your nerves. he was always so rude to people whenever they interviewed him but went through with them because you asked.

a couple of minutes passed and once almost all the people were gone you noticed sae started to walk towards your direction so you stood up and walked down the steps stopping at the railings that was separating the two of you. “y/n…” he spoke stopping right infront of you, looking at him you kind of glared trying to hide how much you missed him. more silence filled his ears and out of defeat he dropped his head taking a deep breath.

suddenly a small quiet sniffle sounded and he looked back up with tears in his eyes. “I can’t lose you, I fucked up I know I did. if you want to punish me some more then do it but please stop ignoring me I physically can’t do it anymore, I can’t live without you.” standing there you looked at him in shock, he’s never cried before especially over something like this.

“meet me in the tunnel.” “no.” he quickly responded jumping up and climbing over the railing. he landed immediately taking you into his arms, you gasped at his action but ultimately wrapped your arms around him gently rubbing his back. for a quick second you could feel him shaking but you may have been imagining it.

he pulled back keeping his arms wrapped around you so that he could admire what he missed in these two months. “you look gorgeous, I love you princess.”

“I know you do, you and your 1,882 calls” he laughed awkwardly as you pressed a small kiss on his sweaty jawline smiling up at him. “I love you too.”

[preciousbarnes]

Languages of Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky and you are complete opposites in day to day life. You’re a local florist, surrounded by plants and soft colors. Bucky is grumpy and rough around the edges. At nights together, his softer side shows, whispering sweet nothings to you that you love but never understand.

Word count: 1.7k

Tags: smut, first time, soft sex, fluff, bit of a language barrier, grumpy!bucky x literal sunshine, florist!reader.

You first really noticed it the first night you slept in the same bed together. It was innocent, you and Bucky were taking your time in the relationship, but you asked him to stay the night at your apartment above your little florist shop since it was storming so horribly outside after your dinner date with him.

You both got ready for bed, Bucky stripping down to just his boxers and you changing into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. You both climbed into bed, you shyly staying to your side of the bed until you felt Bucky’s strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You let out a little squeak in surprise, causing Bucky to give a resulting deep chuckle. You laid in his arms, nuzzling yourself close to him as you entangled your legs with his, enjoying the contrast of his furnace like body heat, and the coolness of his metal arm. You laid there silently for the longest time, trading gentle and soothing pets.

That’s when Bucky softly started talking to you in a language you didn’t understand.

“Ya ne znayu, chem ya zasluzhil eto, no ya tak blagodaren” He mutters to you in Russian, gently running his fingers through your hair. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m so grateful.

You look at his face, taking in the soft and heartfelt expression. You had no clue what he had just said, but judging by his face you were certain it was something sweet. You gently pecked his lips, making his little smile grow. You both fell asleep in each other arms that night, feeling like your hearts were so full of affection and love.

The second time it happened was in a more heated moment. It was your first time. Your first time ever, and his first time with you. You were both laying in the middle of your bed under the soft sheets, lights dimmed in the room with soft jazz playing in the background. You were naked, and Bucky remained in his boxers, his cock straining against the fabric, forgotten. He had taken out all the stops, wanting to make your first time so special, feeling so honored to be your first. He had gently worked you open with his fingers and mouth, whispering sweet nothings in English between your legs.

“You’re doing so good doll, opening up for me so prettily.”

“Look at you, darling. So fucking gorgeous.”

“Can't wait to be inside of you, sweetheart. Going to make you feel so, so good baby,”

After plenty of foreplay, he raised up, leaving you soaked and a pleading mess for him.

“Please, Bucky. Please, I want you, please.” You gently begged, barely recognizing your own voice, already so wrecked.

“Are you sure, moya lyubov'?” He asks you, wanting to be certain that this is something you want. My love.

You nod your head, hand coming up to gently caress his jaw, feeling the stubble underneath your fingertips, a stark and rough contrast to the soft expression on his face, one full of love and utter adoration.

He stripped off his boxers, tossing them off the side of the bed. You let your eyes trail down from his face, down his chest and chiseled abs, to his dick. It was flushed, bobbing a bit from a twitch. The length and girth had your mouth watering, just imagining how much better than just fingers that would feel, how full and absolutely stuffed it would make you feel. His head glistened in the soft light, wet from precum that had leaked out, showing you just how thoroughly he enjoyed the foreplay as well.

You reached down, grasping him in your hand, making him suck in a breath at the touch. You gently and slowly pumped your fist, using your thumb to gather the precum beaded at the head and move it down his shaft. As you pleasured him, you looked up to see his face overcome with pleasure, soft groans leaving his lips. Fire stirred in your gut with the realization that you were making him feel that way. Something possessive swirled in you as well, not wanting anyone to ever see this side of him again, wanting the sight to be yours and yours alone.

After a few moments, you were paused by his hand coming down to grasp your wrist.

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to last if you keep touching me like this,” He says roughly, his voice taking on a gravelly tone, overtaken with the pleasure you were bringing him.

You smile, proud of yourself which makes him smirk and chuckle. He removes his hand from your wrist, taking himself in his hand to line himself up. He slowly pushes in, filling you to the brim. Your back arches off the bed, a moan being ripped from your throat. Once he's in you to the hilt, his head drops to your shoulder, a groan leaving his lips. He’s overwhelmed with pleasure, never knowing it was possible for it to feel this good. You’re so warm, so tight, your velvety walls gripping him just right.

He begins thrusting, slow and sensual but strong thrusts hitting just the right spot. Your nails rake down his back, legs coming up to wrap around his hips, trying to pull him impossibly closer to you.

That’s when you hear it. That soft, deep voice muttering words to you that you don’t understand, slipping into what you now know is Russian.

“Ty chuvstvuyesh' sebya tak khorosho, detka.” You feel so good, baby.

“Ty kak budto sozdana dlya menya.” It’s like you were made for me.

“Zakhvatyvayushchiy,” Breathtaking.

“U tebya yest' ves' ya, telo i dusha.” You have all of me, body and soul.

He keeps muttering soft phrases and words against your skin that night, cherishing you in a way you never knew someone could. It's the contrast between the sharp thrusts and gentle hands and words that send you over the edge in the end, vision going white as you pull him over the ledge with you into absolute bliss.

After you both are sated and content, laying in each other's arms, he mutters one more phrase as he gently kisses the place where your jaw meets your throat.

“Ya tebya lyublyu” he says worshipfully, almost like a prayer leaving his lips.

You normally just smile at the sweet words you don’t understand, giving his kisses or hugs in response. This phrase though, it felt important to know, so you ask.

He looks at you like you hold the answer to all the universes questions, bringing his hand up to run his thumb against your cheekbone so softly you barely feel it.

“I love you,” he tells you, easily but so full of conviction.

A smile breaks across your face, as you return those three little words to him.

The next time you hear the language slip from his lips was when a recruit got a little to close, not knowing you were there at the training compound to see your boyfriend.

“Ne trogay yeye” He spat out, roughly grabbing the hand the recruit had reached out in goals of touching your arm. Don’t touch her. He was shooting daggers with his eyes at the recruit, who was now backing away, stuttering out an apology before quickly walking away.

The look on his face was reminiscent of a cartoon grumpy bear, making you giggle gently which led him to look over to you, a confused look on his face with the remnants of a scowl still there.

You reached up on your tip toes to kiss him gently on the lips, replacing the scowl with a dopey smile. In the background you could hear Steve’s chuckle at the lovestruck look on his best friends face as you grabbed his hand, leading him out to your car as you told him about the new shipment of flowers you just got in that you wanted to show him.

You found yourself in your floral shop with Natasha, her helping you with organizing order forms as you got out supplies to make another arrangement.

“Hey Nat, you’re fluent in Russian, right?” You ask the agent, earning a smile from her and a soft “Da.” Yes.

“You’ve been around when Bucky says stuff to me, right?”

She nods and smiles again, seeing where this is going.

“You want to know what he says?” She asks, filing away the orders and turning her full attention to you.

“Yeah, I always want to ask, but he has this look on his face. This soft expression. Like how people look at baby kittens. It makes me feel so cherished. I don’t ever want to ruin the moment,” You explain, hoping she understands.

She laughs at your comparison to Bucky’s face to how people look at kittens.

“Yknow, if I heard anyone else say Bucky looks at something how people look at baby anything, at one time I would’ve thought they had lost their mind. But yeah, that’s how he looks at you sometimes. He worships you, honey. Most of the time, when I’ve been around and he’s spoken to you in the language, he’s telling you that you're his whole world, that he feels so lucky to have found you, that he feels blessed, that you’re his angel, that he is yours completely, just really soft shit. He loves you.” She tells you, making your heart swell.

“Well,” you begin, “can you help me with something for him?” you ask.

Later that night you both found yourselves curled up together on the couch of your now shared apartment above your floral shop, Bucky playing with your hair as your hand gently strokes up and down one of the arms wrapped around you as you listen to his heartbeat with your head rested on his chest.

That’s when you say it.

“Ya beskonechno lyublyu tebya” you tell him, hoping you got the pronunciation right. Based on the shocked look on his face, followed by a wide smile stretching across his face, you’re assuming you did well enough for him to have understood. I love you to the moon and back.

“I love you too doll, to all the planets and beyond and back” He tells you, pulling you in for a soft kiss.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Trying To Derail My One Track Mind

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Part 1 Masterlist

Word Count: 3,225

Summary: Part 2/2 Life was simple, till you met your boss.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating on a significant other, oral f and m receiving, bondage, p in v.

You hadn’t slept that good in ages, that’s all you can think as you rise from your side of the bed. Stretching your arms above your head, then reaching for your phone, you must’ve woken up before your alarm, you do that all the time.

When you check the time your heart jumps from your chest. It’s 10:30, the guest would be ready for their hangover bloody mary’s any second. You know you turned your alarm on before you went to sleep. You turn around to see Bucky still sleeping. You roll your eyes, rich people.

You try to leave without raising him from sleep, but you’re not so lucky. He rolls towards you and it’s only now you see that he had no shirt on. Weird since it was freezing in the room, you could see snow building up on the window sills. Your eyes linger on him for a moment too long, “Like what you see?” He bares his teeth to you in a wide smile.

You avert your eyes, a blush covering your whole face. “I’m so sorry, excuse me.”. You grab your phone from the nightstand and try to leave. He grabs your hand, “It’s okay, you don’t have to go.” His eyes bore into yours.

You were starting to understand what you thought before, his eyes make girls act like fools. With bated breath you pull your hand away, “I don’t think my fiancé would appreciate this, I have to go.”. You didn’t stand up to leave. You found your body ignoring your brain. You couldn’t look away from him, and he knew it.

Bucky sits up in bed, letting the blanket fall down to expose his naked upper half. Again, your body is doing things you can’t stop. Your eyes follow the toned curves of his chest down to the valleys created by his hipbones. “I don’t think your fiancé would appreciate a lot of things. Good thing I’m not inclined to care.” Something about the way he said that broke the trance his body has on you.

“I gotta get to work.” You say, putting yourself on that trusty autopilot that gets you through most days at work. You finally take your turn to leave without waiting for a response. It felt good, too good, like you could hold your head a little higher for getting by with it. The guests ate a quick breakfast before all departing, you looked out of the kitchen window as you scrubbed oats from the antique ceramic.

It snowed a lot more than forecasted. The fields behind the house were almost unrecognizable in a blanket of snow. You lean closer to the cold glass, looking towards your car, it was completely buried. You promised that you’d be home early tonight for new years dinner at your in laws house. If the snow didn’t let up soon, you’d never get home.

On days with no guests you do most of your management work. Taking inventory, ordering deliveries, making a new schedule for your cooks. It takes the longest time out of anything you do at the manor. It’s 6 when you get off the phone with the trucking company that delivers the food, they won’t be able to make it till after the weekend, when the snow clears up.

You finally leave the break room, since there’s no windows you couldn’t tell how dark it was getting. You go to the back door to check and see if your car was gonna make it out of the driveway, but the door was blocked by snow, it wouldn’t budge.

You let out a huff and it causes a cloud to appear infront of you. It was freezing in this old house, if you weren’t in a room with a fireplace you were out of luck. You search through every room till you find one burning. You close the library door behind you, not wanting to let the heat out. You see Bucky sitting at the desk, reading over files for something.

“Mind if I join you?” You wouldn’t have asked, but you were still operating on autopilot. You knew he didn’t mind one bit that you were in his presence. You curl up on the couch beside the fireplace, back facing the rest of the room. “It’s not looking good out there.” He says, you could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll even make it out of here when my shift ends.” You don’t look at him, but can tell he’s smiling when he says “Oh no.”. You roll your eyes because you know he can’t see you. You take notice when he joins you infront of the fire.

“Another night at the manor, I’m gonna have to start charging you.” He says, kicking his feet up beside you. You hope he’s joking. “There was a strange man in my bed last night, I’d like a full refund.” You counter.

“States in the fine print, if you like it, refunds are void.” You knew he was flirting with you, unashamedly, but you didn’t want him to stop. Maybe it was the way the flames danced on his features or him always deciding to sit right beside you, but your guard was down, and you found your body doing the frozen thing again, heart beating a million miles a minute.

“Who said I enjoyed it?” You say, hoping to knock him down a peg. He shrugs his shoulders and looks to you, “You said all you needed to say this morning.”. He says it in a matter of fact tone. You know he’s talking about the way you so obviously checked him out 2 feet away.

“I’m sorry again, I don’t know what I was thinking, you’re my boss and I’m engaged, it was highly inappropriate.” You say, keeping your self control. Guilt helped you, your fiancés face clouding your mind.

“Don’t apologize, doll. I tend to have that effect on people.” You laugh out loud, you couldn’t help yourself. You can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, based on the shit eating grin, he was joking.

“I just don’t want to give off the wrong idea.” You say, looking down at your hands. “And what’s that?” You can’t even look at him. This cat and mouse game was getting out of control.

You’re both just sitting beside each other, harmlessly flirting one second. The next second could be an entirely different story if you don’t tread lightly, “That I like you.” You look to him to see he’s smiling at you “What?” You say.

Bucky stands from the little couch, walking over to the hot coals. He blows on them to reignite the flames. “I didn’t peg you for a liar.”. The fires completely out, his technique failing. The tiny amount of warmth leaked from the cracks in the window seal, leaving you frozen mentally and physically.

“I’m not.” You say, standing up to leave. You couldn’t argue with him and you knew it. The reason being either because he’s your boss, or you don’t know you’d lose. “Where are you going?” He asks, following you to the kitchen. You decide to ignore him for a moment while you bundle up in many layers. Once you pull on your gloves you’re addressing him again. “I have a dinner to make it to, with my fiancés parents. It was uh nice to meet you I guess, till next time.” You nod your head and turn your back to him, fishing your keys from your bag.

You let out a scream when your face hits the glass on the door, the frost feeling like needles on your skin. “That’s cute, too bad you won’t make it.” He breathes in your ear. “Get off Bucky, I meant it.” You say, wiggling in his grasp. He had his body pressed against you, caging you to the door.

He reaches up and brushes your hair back, exposing the crook of your neck. “So now I’m Bucky? I’m afraid that ship has sailed sweet girl.” He chuckles, and now you realize how serious the situation was becoming. It hits you that he really does not care that you’ve promised yourself to someone else.

“Admit that you want me too, then I’ll let you go.”. Your throat goes dry, you know if he’s gone to these lengths then that’s not all it’s gonna take. “Please just let me go, I’ll pretend like this never happened.” You don’t know if you mean it. The way his body molded to yours would be seared into your brain.

You know you shouldn’t like the way he tightly gripped your hands behind your back. Or the way that the pain in your frost bitten cheek made your body heat up. You just had to get through the niceties of going down a path you couldn’t turn back on. Cheating on a partner is terrible, you know that. It’s why your brain won’t stop pleading to stop, but your body knows what it wants.

He drops your hands, holding them between you. You could easily slip away now, but you don’t even pull your arms free, you stay there with your breath held. “That’s not what I asked, now was it?” He pulls your face towards him, causing your neck to crane in an inhuman way. You look into his eyes and it’s not the same person. He looked between yours with expectation. You managed to croak out “I admit it.”. He steps back, releasing you from his hold.

“See that wasn’t so hard.” You turn your body around to face him, he’s still standing in your bubble. “So I can leave now?” You say, a little part of you hoping he has something else up his sleeve. What he pulls just isn’t what you expected.

“Oh doll, you’re never leaving.” You drop whatever role you’ve been playing the last two days. The thought of being trapped in this house waking you up from whatever spell Bucky had put you under. “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out in a high pitched huff. He takes back his spot pressing you against the door, but this time you’re looking him in the eye. “Like I said, you’re just what I need, the perfect person to run this place. It’s yours now, why would I let you leave?” His hand goes for your face, you feel his thumb caressing your lips; outlining them with the tip of his finger.

“Bucky, I’ll admit to the flirting, I’ll admit that I want you too, but it’s nothing more than that. At the end of the day I still have to go home to my fiancé.” You gave it one last shot before you completely give up trying. “I don’t think you’re getting it.” His eyes are black now, like an apex predator, he reaches up and grabs you by the chin. “What I want, I get.” Your body finally betrays your mind and you nod your head. Keeping your mouth shut while doing it.

He’s taken control over the situation, and you couldn’t fight anymore, putty in his hands. “Good girl, now call your ex boyfriend up, tell him you’ve accepted a big promotion, end things with him.” You don’t know what you’re gonna say, your fiancé knew you too well. He’d know somethings up. “He won’t believe it. He’ll come here, start asking questions and become a real problem for you.” You don’t know why you fed him with information. You weren’t even scared, you’d just accepted your fate.

“Then what are you proposing?” You turn your head and look at the snow still coming down hard. “Let the car fall over a hill, snow will cover foot steps and tire tracks. No one would see the car till everything melted, think i got lost and died somewhere in the woods.” You don’t know where that came from, honestly, faking your own death had never crossed your mind before, but somehow you were a genius at it.

Bucky seemed to like the idea because he leans forward, abruptly pressing his lips to yours. Your body takes over the autopilot seat, shutting your brain off completely. Your lips moved with his in an intoxicating way, you could quite literally feel yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

He pulls away. “What made you change your mind?” You know he was gonna ask eventually. “I gave up fighting it, fighting you.” You reach your hands out and lay them on his chest. “I’ve been trying my best to be a good girl these last 24 hours.”. You slide your fingers down to his waistband.

“I think I need some practice, to show myself,” you unbuckle his belt, “just how much,” you drop to your knees, pulling his slacks down with you. “I like being bad.”. You finish your theatrics with putting your hands behind your back, keeping your chin down but your eyes up.

You watched as his cock grew hard in his boxers. Bucky finishes your job and pushes them down, letting them fall to the floor. All your eyes could focus on was how big he was. You knew you’d be settling if you ran back to your fiancé now.

You don’t see him reach out and grasp your pony tail, wrapping it around his hand like a rein. He guides himself to your closed mouth, rubbing the tip across your bottom lip “I think you’re being a very good girl.” With that little praise you opened your mouth slightly, sticking out your tongue to wrap around the tip, coaxing his leaking cock into your mouth.

You liked having no control, letting your mouth be used by him. It electrified you, giving up was the best thing you could’ve done. “You like teasing me? Hmm?” He pulls your head back so you would meet his eye. The thought of being punished by Mr. Barnes was enough to make you nod your head, and wrap your lips completely around his tip, sucking lightly.

You feel precum drip onto your tongue, and you take the chance to stick it out and show him. You slid your tongue down to the base of him, smearing cum down his shaft. You look up with puppy dog eyes. “Want me to clean that up for you Mr. Barnes?” You bat your lashes.

You feel the hand in your hair tighten, and the vein in his forehead get bigger. “You’re gonna pay for that.” You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling. You didn’t want him to know just how much you anticipated his idea of punishment.

You’d brought the ideas up to your fiancé about role playing. You tried to teach him that sometimes pain could be pleasure but he never understood. So you let it go, but you held onto the fantasies you had about being spanked, denied climax after being brought to the brink over and over, being used like a lifeless doll whose only purpose is pleasure.

He derails your train of thought by shoving himself to the back of your throat. Your hands instinctively push his hips back to brace yourself. “Tsk, you need to be tied down don’t you?” He steps out of his pants pooled at his ankles.

He lifts you up, using your hair as a leash, leading you through the house, up to the master. The door was already open, a red glow flooding the hall. When you’re finally dragged through the door you see the fireplace blazing, candles surround the bed. For a moment you wonder why he had prepared all of this if you were supposed to leave.

“I was never gonna let you go.” He leads you to the bed, you crawl to the middle of the bed, waiting for further instruction. He walks around to the right side of the room, pulling open the top dresser drawer. He retrieves rope, coming back to stand beside the bed. “Just because you never saw me doesn’t mean it was the same for me.”.

He crawls up beside you, looping the rope into the headboard, tying your hands up against it. “I knew you were perfect on your first day at the manor.” He gets on top of you, kneeling so he can unbutton your white uniform top. “You did even see me, holding onto every word Bruce said, you were completely oblivious to the man following you around the mansion with cameras.” You didn’t even know the house had cameras. To be honest it shouldn’t since the things that go down here. You wonder what he’s watched you do, let your employees eat whatever they want, cut corners even though he says not to, take extra long breaks in less busy hours.

“Should I be weirded out? Cause that kinda turns me on.” You joke, poking fun at the fact that it was actually really creepy he watches you on the cameras. “You’re laughing now.” He scoots down the bed, stripping you of the rest of your clothes.

“How would you like your punishment?” He easily flips your body over, baring your ass to him. “I could whip you till you’re crying, begging me to stop.” He slaps your cheek, leaving a welt in the shape of his hand. He turns you back around and crawls up your body, pressing his cock to your lips again. “I could make you gag while I shove my dick deeper and deeper down your throat, and you’ll be begging me to breathe.” He pushes himself past the barrier your lips tried to form. Letting his tip make its way to the tightness of your throat. You can’t help but to swallow, causing your muscles to tighten. “Keep doing that and I’ll choose for you.” He pulls himself away from you, letting you catch your breath.

Bucky finds himself with his face between your legs. He couldn’t help himself but to dive right in and taste you. You were glistening from your own arousal. You bucked your hips into him, helping yourself get closer the high you’re both chasing. Right when your legs begin to shake he stops “or you could beg me to cum all night.”.

He comes up to face you, “All I know is you’ll be begging.”. Your blood shot eyes search his, how could you pick, all of them were exactly what you wanted. “None of those choices involve you inside me.”. You leave Bucky wordless as you wrap your untied legs around his waist, rubbing yourself against his hard cock.

He presses himself into you, the mess he already created allowed him to easily slip inside. The deeper he pushed you felt the air get sucked from your chest, your cheeks growing red hot. “No one’s ever..” you throw your head back, letting your jaw slack open. No one’s ever bottomed you out like this, stretched your walls while pounding on your cervix.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He remained unmoving until you adjusted to the size of him. The longer he stayed still, the more apparent the stinging and rips felt inside of you. “Please?” You just want him to move, even if it hurts. Bucky breaks out in a big smile “See baby? I told you you’d be begging me at some point tonight.”.

[motions1ckness]

“Letting it linger”

Summary: Roman invited you to a family dinner where you two find a way to enjoy yourselves.

Contents: smut, established relationship, f!reader, dom/sub interactions, exhibitionism, choking, semi public, roman being needy, mention of sexual turmoil

(i’m so sorry if you saw this before i realized i added the same paragraph twice anyways)

This had to be one of the longest nights you have tolerated. You regret accepting Roman’s offer to be his plus one at this dinner. It wasn’t his fault. If it was up to him, he wouldn't have came.

The night was driving you insane. The dinner consisted of the Roy and Pierce families. Roman warned you about the pretentious comments and shitty conversation; you were not prepared for how fucking boring it was gonna be. During the first course, Roman rested his hand on your thigh, normal. It quickly turned into his hand resting close to your heat. You shot Roman a look, but he didn’t meet your eyes. It was a game now.

One of the Pierce's wives made conversation with you. Roman was picking at his food, not paying attention. “Well, I’ve never seen that one. What is it about?” You asked. She started talking and you decided to take action. As she was gabbing about the plot, you brought your hand to Roman’s pants and squeezed. The action made him yelp and practically jerk in his seat, “Rome are you okay?” You asked innocently. He sat at the end, only you could see what happened. He became flushed, his gaze surrendering to you as he sat dumbfounded.

It was risky. He needed a response, “Y-yeah, I'm, fuckin' fine,” he shook his head, removing the attention set on him, and the woman resumed her spiel. Roman’s pleading expression shifted to you, hand in the same place. He didn’t interrupt her; instead letting your hand linger. He adjusted his hips to gain more friction. He was rock-hard. His action surprised you, but it was all the confirmation you needed.

You started palming him through his pants, and he gave a slight huff as you wrapped up your conversation. You began moving quicker. You studied the room to make sure you both were above suspicion. Roman became pale from his arduous efforts to remain silent. You leaned over to his ear, “Stop looking like this is happening, you don't want everyone to see how pathetic you are? Especially your father,” you whispered.

You stayed close to his face as he turned to you. His eyes pleaded with you. Your mind explored the 'what if's?' in this situation. But it was the Pierce family, the dinner was crucial. “P-please, let’s go to the bathroom,” he breathed out. You stopped your action, causing him to repress a whine. Were you really about to do this? No one would suspect anything.

You moved your hand to his shoulder and whispered, “Then let’s go.”

With that, Roman wasted no time, excusing you both from the table. He had to follow close behind you to cover his strained pants. Once you two found the bathroom, you wasted no time kissing him against the door. It was sloppy and needy; one of your hands rested on his neck, the other stroking him.

You sped up your movement. Roman threw his head back, parting his mouth slightly. Provoking you to attack his neck and run your free hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly.

“Let’s fucking do it,” he says, panting. This wasn’t the first time you two had sex, just not as a casual affair. Your eyes lit up as you drew away from him, causing his hips to buck from the lack of sensation.

“Yeah, are you sure? Like actually do it?” You questioned. You weren't going to do anything he wasn’t okay with.

He looked at you, his face red and sweaty, and his eyes insisting. “Y-yes, I want this. Please.” He ensures, focusing his attention on tracing figures into your hip, waiting for a response. You studied his face just for additional assurance before kissing him again. Roman cupped your face as he stumbled, pushing you against the sink. His hands moved down and eventually made their way to your breasts. He kneaded them as you did your best to repress the noises, remembering the dinner outside. As you adjusted against the sink, you heard him undoing his belt. Roman glanced back at you while stroking himself. His eyes fluttered as you heard him spurt profanities.

You grab the back of his neck, “You still sure?” You also took this second to prepare yourself. You were about to hook up with your boyfriend in a bathroom. While his family was 50 feet away.

Roman rolled his eyes while forcing your underwear aside and pushing himself into you. You moan instinctively from the new sensation and dig your nails into Roman's neck. He quickly covers your mouth so you two don’t get caught.

He thrusts himself deeper, pressing his forehead against yours,” F-fuck, just keep quiet for me,” as he cut himself off with a low moan. You looked up at him, retaining eye contact. Roman’s eyes stayed on you, his small whimpers made you want him more. He let you both adjust to the feeling as he adjusted his other arm to keep you against the sink. He began a steady pace.

The room filled with sporadic moans as Roman’s eyebrows furrowed, you could tell he was close. He bucked you closer to him, resulting in him throwing his head back and moaning loudly. Roman moved his hand from your mouth to your throat, causing your eyes to widen from the feeling as a gasp escaped your throat from his noisy reaction. He froze for a moment after he realized how loud he was.

His face turned a deeper tint of red. His demeanor altered slightly, “D-do you think t-they heard me?” he asked. He felt worry trickle down his back. His frightened expression became apparent.

You moved your hand to his cheek reassuringly. “N-no, I think we’re all good,” you answered out of breath. You two waited a couple of seconds to make sure you were in the clear.

Roman looked down at where his hand sat, “Fuck,” he began removing his hand from your neck, but you kept it there.

“No, I like it. You wanted me to stay quiet right?” You said with a lustful grin. Roman’s eyes filled with hunger as he kissed you, returning to the previous pace and now applying pressure to your neck.

Roman’s thrusts started becoming more brutal. He was biting your shoulder to help conceal his whines. It wasn’t long until you felt a knotting sensation in your core. You knew he was close behind from the slight shuddering from his hips with every thrust. “Rome-”

He already knew what you were gonna say, “Do it.” he quickly responded, muffled from your shoulder. To suppress your climax, he tightened the grip on your neck, pushing you over the edge. You felt him bite harder, the mix of moans heating against your skin. Roman wasn’t far behind you. His hips started stuttering as he met his climax. You couldn't make out any of the words he was saying. It was a mixture of praises, swears, and moans.

After you both came down, he pulled out of you and put himself away. He didn’t talk to you immediately after, which made you believe he regretted it. You sat on the sink with your legs slightly trembling, thinking Roman was going to ignore you the rest of the evening.

“I think you'll fuckin' need this.” You look up and see a towel being handed to you. You met Roman’s eyes before getting up and started using the mirror, him directly behind you. You quickly cleaned up and adjusted your dress. “You better hope no one heard,” he said, pulling you closer to his hips.

The tension in your face eases, “It’d be your funeral.”

[grandestheart]

LET THIS HAPPEN grayson x lyra

★ characters - grayson hawthorne, lyra kane

★ synopsis ~ When grayson spots lyra with her feet dangling in his pool, he goes to invite her to swim with him, when she reveals she cant swim, grayson takes it upon himself to teach her

★ taglist 🏷️ ~ @nqds @urbanflorals @sophiesonlinediary @lxvebelle @x-liv25-jamieswife // it will only let me tag five people at a time so thats why tags are split up <3

@shuhuaspookie @sunsetovertheocean @never-enough-novels @lanterns-and-daydreams @inmyheaddd lmk if you want to be added

★ request from @sophiesonlinediary

★ a/n ~ so excited to see what jlb has in the Hawthorne vault!!! I really hope it’s a Lyra chapter so we can begin to get a sense of her character, anyways enjoy <3 also this is like my longest fic ever!!

the heated water swished around lyras feet, she had only found this pool when exploring the Hawthorne mansion, looking for clues that could give her a lead in the game. She couldn’t swim, but she did enjoy the water, something about the smooth ripples when she kicked her feet calmed her.

She had been sat for around five minutes when she heard quiet footsteps on the patio behind her, “hello?” A deep voice called out, she knew that voice, “who’s there?” Shit. The voice moved closer, she couldn’t move now. It was much too late, “uh- gamemaster,” she cleared her throat, “what a suprise to see you here.”

Grayson stepped into the turquoise light from the pool. He was wearing nothing but navy swim shorts, and his hair was messed up, as if a hand had been ran through it. “Ms Kane, what are you doing here it’s after hours?” Grayson tilted his head slightly, Lyras mouth formed an o shape, all contestants were to be in their rooms by 11pm and it was now around 12:30. “I- I just needed to clear my head, but I can leave if that’s what you want.” She began to lift herself out of the pool when Grayson stopped her. “No, it’s ok you can stay.” Grayson made his way over to the stairs of the pool, “I often come here to clear my head too.” Grayson slid into the pool, dunking his head under the warm water.

When he came back up his hair had been pushed out of his face, and water was dripping down his shirtless body. “Do you wish to join me for a swim Ms Kane?” Grayson asked, swimming up to where she was sat on the ledge, “oh- no, I couldn’t. I can’t swim, so I probably-“ she trailed off, “that’s fine,” Grayson lifted himself out of the pool and next to her, “I could teach you.” Lyra laughed, he couldn’t be serious right? “I’m serious. I’ve been swimming since I could walk. I’m sure I would be a sufficient teacher.”

“you’re that confident?” Lyra retailed, “I’m not even dressed for it.” Grayson shrugged, “what’s wrong with what your wearing now?” Lyra looked down at her red oversized jumper and black running shorts. “Are you being fucking serious? I’ll drown if I wear this.” Grayson slid back into the pool. “Not if I’m holding you.” Grayson offered his hand, Lyra took it. “If that’s what you say Hawthorne boy.”

Grayson and Lyra had been in the pool for hours now, it started with Grayson trying to teach Lyra the basics, but for the past forty five minutes they had just been sat on the edge of pool, talking about life. “Grayson?” Lyra asked, “yes?” “what are we doing?” Grayson didn’t respond, only pushed himself back into the water. He made direct eye contact with her before saying. “This.” And then he grabbed her legs and tugged her under the water. “GRAYSON!” Lyra screeched after she had scrambled her way to the surface, she turned around to see Graysons cocky face grinning, “you could’ve killed me, asshole.” Grayson wrapped his arms around her waist. “I wouldn’t of let that happen” they were close now, too close, his mouth was only centimetres above hers. “but maybe- i will let this happen.” And with that his soft lips kissed hers. When they finally pulled apart Grayson stared at her. “You are so beautiful Lyra.” Lyra he had used her first name. “Same goes for you Hawthorne boy.”

[milkywaydrabbles]

A/N: I think I blacked out writing this LMFAO. This is the longest part and it wasn't supposed to be 2k words but apparently I have a thing going on. Maybe one more HC post after this post-fucking and how reader and gojo are together and the dynamic change but this was the big hurrah. Hope y'all enjoy MWAUH

Fratboy! Gojo part one | part two | part three

Satoru kissed you like a starving man, hoping for salvation in the form of your lips. His tongue explored your mouth, hands roaming your back, your hips, your waist. It was overwhelming. You pulled back a few times just enough to catch your breath before he was on you again. You could barely keep up, letting him overwhelm your senses and giving yourself up to him. “Sa-satoru hold on.” He gasped out, pushing at his chest. He shook his head, pushing you backwards until the back of your knees hit your bed. “Need you so bad, pretty. Don’t wanna waste time.” His lips latched onto the pulse point of your neck, heart beating so fast it felt like it could burst from your chest. You whimpered, falling back onto your bed with Gojo following, hands gripping at your waist. Everything was moving too fast, you couldn’t focus, it was too much. Firmly you pressed on his chest again, trying to put some space between you. He furrowed his brows, concern evident in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” Your breath shuddered, “I just...give me a minute.” You mumbled, looking away from his piercing gaze. His face softened. “I’m sorry, pretty girl...This just--it didn’t feel real, like I wouldn’t have this opportunity again...I don’t wanna push you, I promise. I just want you.” 

Hearing Satoru, your bully from the semester, saying such sweet words and looking like he was begging for his life almost broke your heart. He had a lot of making up to do but...maybe, just maybe, you’d give him a chance. “Okay...” You whispered, “okay, Satoru. I’m ready.” Gojo dipped down, slower, nipping at your lower lip and kissing you with purpose. “Sorry, beautiful.” He mumbled against your lips before kissing you again, slowly tracing kisses down your neck and to your shoulder. You didn’t respond, instead running a hand through his soft white tufts of hair. Your eyes fluttered close as he explored you, hands tracing your stomach, and cupping your tits. A knee pressed itself at the apex of your thighs and you gasped, hips stuttering. “Can’t believe I have you under me.” He whispered, nipping and suckling and licking any skin he can get his mouth on. You steadied yourself before speaking, “don’t make me regret it, Gojo.” He clicked his tongue, a sharp bite down on your neck before soothing his tongue over it. You yelped. “Satoru, baby. Enough with the family name. I only wanna hear Satoru coming from you.” He rubbed his knee at your clothed cunt, feeling the heat coming from between your legs. He was so hard just thinking of you, having you so pliable underneath him. Gojo could barely think himself. So when you, on your own accord, pushed him off enough to slip your shirt over yourself and throw it to the foot of the bed his brain completely short circuited. You hadn’t been wearing a bra. Made sense, really, if you were just in your room but still. Gojo stared, eyes glued on your chest like you just showed him the answer to life. You shifted, hands going to cover yourself in embarrassment before he pounced. “Nu uh, pretty girl. Fuck, look at you. You’ve been hiding this from me?” He groaned, a hand squeezing and pinching one nipple but his mouth worked on the other. You moaned above him, leaning back down and head thrown into your pillow. Gojo couldn’t help but moan himself, the taste of you on his tongue was driving him wild, his knee moving to spread your leg more. “Satoru.” You gasped, nails digging into his shoulder blades. 

He lost his fucking mind. “Fuck, baby.” his hands went to rip off your pants, uncaring on how desperate he looked. He was desperate. Licks and kisses trailed down your chest, stomach, hips. Down, down, down, until he finally licked a stripe on your pantie clad pussy. You cried out, hips bucking into his face. Gojo looked like he was in ecstasy, burrowing his nose into you and breathing in deep. His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head when he moaned. “You smell so fucking good.” He groaned. You tried to close your legs around his head, but he wouldn’t let you. “Don’t be fucking embarrassing, Satoru.” You hid behind your hands. He’d let you, for now. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Wanna taste you.” Gojo pulled back your underwear enough to tongue your lips, losing control the moment he got a taste of you. He pressed himself more into your cunt, tongue swirling deep in you as he moaned. He wanted to lick and suck and slurp every drop you had to give him. You gushed around his tongue, crying out as he ate you like a madman. Satoru ripped your underwear to give himself more space to taste you and use his fingers. Neither of you even noticed the torn cloth. He lifted your legs on his shoulders and pressed infinitely closer, two fingers dipping into your sopping wet pussy as he lapped up your juices, and latching onto your clit.

“A-ah, Satoru! Fuck!” you humped his face, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. His long fingers curled up, starting to quicken his pace and finger fuck you relentlessly. He knew he’d found what he was looking for when your body rose and you squealed, hands tangling into his hair. You babbled nonsense, begging him for release. “Come on pretty girl, cum on my fingers, I want it.” He looked up at you between his lashes, nosing your swollen nub as you rose higher and higher to your climax. “Look at me, baby.” He licked you again, pressing kisses to your clit as you looked down at him. You were a fucking sight for sore eyes. Your eyes were glassy, lips swollen and red from you biting them so hard. Cheeks flush, and your mouth shaping a perfect ‘o’ with how good he was making you feel. Gojo could cum in his pants with your face alone. It was burned into his memory, and he knew no one would ever be good enough. Not after you. He was so pussywhipped there was no way in hell he’d ever let you go after this.

A few more pumps of his fingers into your swollen cunt had you releasing your juices over him, your hole clenched and spasmed around him, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. He slowed down when you deemed it too much, crawling back up your body with kisses along the way. The two fingers that were deep in your pussy were pressed against your lips, and you immediately opened your mouth letting him push your taste onto your tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed, making a scene of sucking on his digits for good measure. Gojo couldn’t breathe, the discomfort of his pants becoming too much. “Gotta feel you baby, need to be inside you.” He kissed you again, but you surprised him by pushing him off and crawling on top of him. He blinked, shocked. “Wanna ride you, ‘Toru.” Gojo could only hear white noise. There was no way this was real, this must have been a dream. “Baby...you sure?” He was still in shock as you moved to pull his shirt up, look still hazy. He helped, removing his clothes and discarding them in the corner of your room. Finally, finally you were able to get a good look at him and nothing could prepare you for the cock you came face to face with. He was so pretty, mushroom tip all read and leaking with anticipation. He was long, and curved, and you honestly wondered how he’d fit. 

“Baby, it’s okay, we can take it slow.” He reassured, but you were damned if you weren’t going to have him inside of you. You dipped down and gave his tip some experimental kisses, Gojo hissing as you did so. Kisses turned into sucks, and before he knew it you were slurping down his cock with enthusiasm. “Fuck! B-baby slow down, ‘m’not gonna last if you keep it up.” He babbled, holding your head steady as best he could. He wanted more than anything to fuck up into your mouth with how good it felt, but he wanted to feel your pussy tighten around his cock. You looked at him between your lashes, slowing your pace. God, you were going to be the death of him. He gathered all your hair into his large hand and let you lazily suck on his cock, going as deep as you could before coming up for air, using your free hand to stroke whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth. “Just like that, baby, fuuuck. S’fucking good.” The deep timbre of his voice shot straight to your cunt, hole clenching around nothing. “Can’t wait anymore, need you.” Gojo pulled you off him and brought you up to his face, kissing you deeply once more. You lined yourself up with his cock, teasing his tip with your wet folds. He wanted to push you down and take you, but he’d let you take the lead. Just this once. Slowly, you pushed yourself onto his length with ease, you were so slippery with your last orgasm and his spit. You both gasped, and you immediately tightened around him it felt so good. “Satoru, fuck.” You whimpered, bracing yourself on his chest as you rose up, to the tip, and sat back down on his cock. He moaned, head tipping back and his hands gripping onto your hips so hard they’d leave fingertip bruises. “You’re so fucking tight and hot, pretty girl. Fucking me so good.” He praised you as you rode him, fingernails digging into the skin of his chest. You did your best to keep your pace, crying and whimpering above him. “Good, ‘Toru, so good.” You babbled, tears streaming down your face. You were cockdrunk, couldn’t think of anything except Satoru and how good he was making you feel. Your hips stuttered, straining to keep it up. 

“Aw,” he cooed, “you cryin’?” You could practically hear the smirk coming from him. “Does my pretty baby want some help?” You sniffled and nodded, being shifted immediately and feeling him thrust into you. Gojo planted his feet on the mattress and shoved you down onto him. Sweat dripped down his brow as he reached closer to his own high. “Touch yourself f’me baby, cum on my cock.” He strained to speak, getting lost in the wet heat of your cunt. Slaps bounced around the room, the heat and smell of sex filling the air around you. If you were to stop crying and moaning all you would hear is the pap, pap, pap of your soaked cunt being stuffed full. A shaky hand found your clit, rubbing at yourself as Gojo filled you up. “Satoru, g’nna cum, ‘m gonna-aah, fuck! Fuckfuckfuck” You screamed, trembling on top of him as you came on top of him. Your juicy cunt soaked him, dripping down his length and balls. He didn’t stop his pumping, fucking up into you harder now focused on himself. You pulsed around him, enough to bring him closer to the edge. “F-fuu-where do you want it baby? Tell me where.” He pleaded, Gojo wasn’t going to last long. “Inside me, Satoru, please wan’it.” You fucked back onto him, lost to the pleasure of overstimulation he was giving you. It was too much for him. He groaned, pulling you down hard on him and stilling inside of you. Globs of cum pushing deep into your pussy, Gojo could swear he saw stars. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life. 

All that was heard were pants of the both of you trying to catch your breath. And now you felt awkward. You cleared your throat, moving to get off him not catching his eye. “Where do you think you’re going?” He pulled you down closer to him, kissing at your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your eyelids, everywhere. “This wasn’t a mistake.” No question, a declaration. “You think you’re getting rid of me after that?” He snorted, planting one last kiss on your now giggling face. “Baby, you’re stuck with me.”

[concreteburialplot]

Cool About It // 01

01 - Breaking & Entering

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!oc

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 6.3k

summary; Noah runs into an old friend while visiting his hometown for the holidays. Noah convinces Amelia to meet him on the playground they grew up on to catch up. Reminiscing leads them to a midnight adventure that reminds them all too much of the past.

warnings; alcohol consumption, breaking & entering? stealing? kinda?, hallmark-y, nostalgic, talks of family trauma, cops (acab!), vaguely sad & distraught Noah, uses 'Sebastian' as his last name, 18+ MDNI

disclaimer; welcome to my new short series! reminder that this is hallmark-y bc i began writing it in December lol i decided to challenge myself w this fic in multiple ways, one of the biggest ones was writing it in 3rd person vs my comfy world of 1st or 2nd person. I’ve never written in 3rd person so, if it’s not my best, i apologize, i’m sure it will improve lol

a/n: this is au and follows no actual timelines/events, and uses oc's for family members.

don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

It had been quite a busy morning, and Amelia was slowly making her way through the longest line she’d had in a while. She finished heating up a cinnamon roll and snapped a lid on what felt like the 75th peppermint mocha she’d made that day.

“Thanks.” Mumbled the distracted patron and stepped off to the side to grab extra napkins.

“Next.” She said while shuffling dollar bills into the clangy register, then looked up motioning to the last customer. Her hazel eyes landed on a man covered in tattoos pre-occupied on his phone. “Next!” Her call was louder than before and this time edged with impatient annoyance.

A familiar pair of dark brown eyes snapped up at her, his gaze more startled than angry.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together and as if on cue, the register dinged closed in time with her realization.

She’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Noah?”

The soft velvet of her voice yanked each edge of Noah’s mouth into a wide toothy smile. “Scout?” He asked in the same caught-off-guard tone. His voice was much deeper than she remembered, and he seemed taller, if that was even possible.

She chuckled at the fact that he used his old nickname for her and felt a tinge of warmth bloom on her cheeks. The ends of her pink lips curled up into an adorably genuine smile. “What are you doing here?” She pressed her palms flat against the cold counter leaning forward and letting soft chocolate curls spill over her shoulder.

“Oh, uh, I’m here with Nicholas.” He thumbed over his shoulder towards the town. “He’s here visiting his family, I just tagged along.”

Tagged along.

She should’ve known, of course Noah would be down here with Nick’s family for Christmas. Where else would he be?

“Oh,” She smiled tenderly at his words and nodded. “Of course.”

Every now and then she’d run into Nicholas whenever he came back to town or ran into his parents while out and about, but it was never anything of significance. Whenever it was Nicholas, she wanted more than anything to inquire about Noah or the band but always kept the interactions short, sweet and reserved. The last thing she wanted was to come off as wanting to “catch up” after they gained a larger audience for clout.

He grinned back at her and there was a quiet moment shared between them, as if they both didn’t know what to say. The feeling in the air swung from having nothing to say to having so many words that it was overwhelming to speak.

The gentle moment was broken by the bell dinging above the door as a new customer walked in.

Her first impulse was to make his usual but stopped herself. “Oh um, whatcha want?” She asked, realizing that his tastes had probably changed since he was 16.

“Just a vanilla cold brew is fine, thank you.” He said with a tight-lipped smile, feeling awkward that she was serving him.

She went ahead and filled his cup with the dark amber liquid. “Do you want a snickerdoodle cookie? They’re freshly baked.”

He nods enthusiastically, “Yes please, they’re my favorite.”

She remembered.

Of course, she did.

How could one forget staying up til 2 am at Nick’s house baking cookies and having Top Chef-level trials trying to achieve the perfect spice mixture for what Noah called, “The Most Snick-of-Doodles that could ever Doodle.”

“You got it.” She smiled placing some pastries into a brown paper bag before handing it to him. “I threw in a cinnamon roll for Nicholas, I made sure to give him the one with the most icing.”

“Oh, he’ll love that.” He chuckled gently taking the bag along with his drink. “We should um, catch up soon?”

“Sure.” She pressed her lips together to keep her grin from growing too wide.

Cold fallen leaves crunched beneath Amelia’s feet as she navigated through a park that she hadn’t stepped foot on in a good ten years. A cool chill made her tug her thick knit cardigan tight around her thin frame.

“Noah?” She delicately whisper-yelled into the darkness, the meet-up destination barely lit by the full ivory moon. She should’ve known that Noah wouldn’t be content with catching up at a restaurant or at her house or anywhere normal.

“Scout!” He replied from the swings a bit to her left. A chuckle left his lips, and he quickly clicked the flashlight on his phone, waving it in the air like a search light.

A deep shade of embarrassment coated her pale cheeks, “There’s no streetlights over here!” She walked over and lightly smacked his arm. “It’s dangerous you know.” The weight of her body creaked the metal frame when she fell into the blue swing seat.

“Or you’re just getting old and need glasses.” He teased with a slight slur riding the end of his words.

“Ha-ha, very funny.” She responded with a playful glare.

She looked over at him thinking how funny it was seeing him so large and full grown in such a tiny, low swing. It looked extremely disproportionate and goofy, like a Great Dane in a shopping cart.

He handed her a bottle of cheap red wine, half drank already.

“Oh, got started without me huh?” She sassed before stealing the bottle from his fingers. “Couldn’t have done beer?” She tips the glass bottle until bitter, dry alcohol infiltrates every tastebud, reminding her why she’d switched to martinis or seltzers in her later years.

He waved her off with a tsk, “Too much hassle. Wine was easier. And you took fuckin’ forever!”

“Right.” She rolled her eyes playfully, it wasn’t like she was all that upset over the wine over beer, just that he drank so much of it already. She pressed the mouth of the bottle to her lips once more taking another hefty swig and handed it back to him. “Where’s Nick?”

“Ah,” He swiped the bottle back and took a long gulp. “You know, family stuff.” He wiped the back of hand across his mouth. “I can only handle – so much of it.” His hands motion off his words. “They mean well I just… can’t do too much of it at once.”

Growing up with parents that were as dismissive and absent, then gone all at once like his, knowing how to “family” was odd and foreign to him. As Noah got older, he began to realize that basic family etiquette was a trait he fundamentally lacked, as if he played hooky on some Family 101 course in his formative years. It wasn’t something he inherently prioritized and, at least when he was younger, it would irritate him when friends or colleagues put family above things that he deemed more important, like band related obligations. He never had to deal with family of his own, put it on his schedule or allot energy for it. He simply didn’t understand it.

Sure, he came off as rude at times, leaving friend’s family events early or mentally checking out mid-day. It wasn’t his fault that it was exhausting and overstimulating for him. To him it seemed natural, as if everyone felt that way, something akin to the universal experience of trying to escape school or work. It never crossed his mind that people might actually enjoy their families, nor could he comprehend the necessity for it.

It depended on who, what and when but for the most part it was exhausting to him. Some groups were better than others, like Nick’s family. Over the years they’d housed him for weeks at a time, months even sometimes. As far as Noah was concerned, the Ruffilo’s were his family. He always came and went as he pleased, always an open-door policy to the Ruffilo refuge. But that didn’t exclude Nick’s family from his unintended ignorance and tendency to run. He just could only take so much at once. Lucky for him, they never seemed to mind his behavior much. They never batted an eye; they understood him for who he was and why. Their house was one of the only places he felt comfortable, one of the only places he ever called home.

“I know.” She nodded, wrapping her hands around the thick swing chains. “I remember.”

“Right.” He replies solemnly, taking another sip before swapping it back.

Vivid memories filled Amelia’s brain of 14-year-old Noah tapping on her window like a freshly escaped felon looking for asylum. The heavy, panicked breathing and glassy eyes never matched the mischievous grin plastered across his face. Holidays were the worst; she recalls keeping her window unlocked during the winter months, so he’d always have an alternative escape. The Ruffilo’s were a festive bunch that took any excuse to celebrate. Naturally, Nicholas also only possessed so much adolescent tolerance to endure so many familial festivities so, he too would sneak away with Noah at times but, for the most part it was just him and Amelia celebrating holidays together on her bedroom floor.  

The air was still between them while she took a couple sips of sanguine liquid trying to catch up to him.

“So, you’re a big ol’ rockstar now huh?” The girl smiled, nudging him with her elbow trying to lighten the mood. Even though the words are positive and light, they tasted so sad on her tongue.

He laughed, something she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime. She nearly forgot what it sounded like, but it hadn’t changed really, just a little deeper now. His now tattooed hands grasped both metal swing chains and leaned back a little, using the tension to suspend his body while he observed the stars above them. “Not big. Just opening for some real bands now. Finally able to headline our own little tour soon. Fuckin’ took long enough.” He dismissed the compliment immediately, snuffing it into the ground like a shriveled-up cigarette butt.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his response. He might’ve not seen it as notable accomplishments, but she knew better than to place the validity of success in the hands of someone riddled with imposter syndrome.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool.” She leaned against the chain closest to the long-haired boy.

His lips pulled to a smile while his eyes stayed focused on the sky. “Thanks.”

She followed his gaze and chuckled, “Sky’s pretty interesting huh?” She teased.

“It is when you barely get to see stars. I never really get to see them in LA. Sometimes I forget they’re even up there.” He replied sadly before sitting back up.

Amelia took another sip of the almost empty bottle, starting to feel the warmth of alcohol spread through her body. Something about the stars and Noah made a memory cross her mind that made her burst out into a cackle. “Do you remember when you put SO much work into your astronomy project for the science fair and fucking Nicholas won with his fucking-”

“Moldy bread!” They said loudly in unison before erupting into booming laughter.

“God I was so pissed.” Noah shook his head, “And then I had to eat his fucking moldy bread.”

“Oh yeah because you lost the bet! I forgot all about that!” Laughter filled her ribcage in a way it hadn’t in years, and it felt really fucking good.

“I was so fucking sure I’d win! I should’ve known, Nick has always been the golden boy. Teacher’s-pet swindling ass.” He kicked the sand just as he would’ve at 8 years old. It’s funny how people’s mannerisms don’t really change all that much as they age. Being there with him on their old playground felt like being in a time machine. “Worst food poisoning I ever had.”

“Didn’t you borrow the telescope you used from Nick too?” She questioned, wondering if she just made that part up in her head.

“Yeah, yeah I think I did actually.” His brows furrowed as he dug through his memories. “You know what? It’s probably still in their garage!”

“Really? Maybe you can find it tomorrow.” She poured the rest of the wine into her mouth, savoring the cheap bitterness of it pooling on her tongue.

“But the stars are so pretty tonight!” He whined in classic Noah fashion.

“Yeah so? What are you gonna do? Break into their garage?” She chuckled jokingly.

He straightened up and looked over at her with wide eyes like a lightbulb just lit above his head - a look she remembered all too well.

“No.” She warned, just like she would’ve back then at whatever scheme Noah concocted in his devious little brain.

He gave her a familiar mischievous toothy grin before pushing harshly off the swing.

“No, no, no.” She sighed as he already left his seat swinging and made his way towards the street.

“Noah!” She called after him. When he showed no sign of stopping, she let out a long sigh, questioning how she ended up having to stop a 6’4 man from breaking into houses in the middle of the night. She pushed off the swing, leaving it clanging and swaying behind her.

“Noah I’m not br-“ Her yell dulled down to a hush when she caught up to him. “I’m not breaking into the Ruffilo house at midnight!” Her words were stern but to Noah they just sounded like a child’s warning against curse words.

“We’re not breaking in ‘melia.” He didn’t match her whisper, his voice was loud and proud for anyone in the night to hear. “I remember the garage code.” He announced with drunken pride.

She scoffed, “And what if someone hears the garage, Noah? Then what?”

He shrugged, “Nick is staying there, we’ll just say we were trying to see him or something. You know I have free reign there anyway.”

“This is a really shitty plan, Noah.” She crossed her arms over her chest with a displeased frown.

“It’s a great plan.” He stated confidently, walking in long strides that she could barely keep up with. “You know all my plans are great.”

“Hmm.” She hummed skeptically. “Statistically, I don’t think that’s true.”

Walking down the street with Noah to Nick’s family home in the dead of the night felt so… familiar, as if she was walking in the same exact footsteps as 15-year-old Amelia had, like her memories were tangible in her hands again. She tightened her fists slightly to remind herself that the past was not solid in her hands again. She wasn’t 15 again on some spontaneous, teenage adventure – but the alcohol-fueled adrenaline prickling at her fingertips begged to differ.

Even past midnight, the small neighborhood’s Christmas lights shined bright. Normally, she’d find them obnoxious, but tonight they seemed much sweeter, only adding to the nostalgia.

“Oh no? All of my plans worked out one way or another.” He defended as if it was factual with a straightened back and pointed finger. “All but one.”

Her brows knitted tightly together at his words, because in her memory, there was a good chunk of her life spent stuck in detention because of his schemes.

“And which one would that be?” She sassed back, watching as his speed picked up even more after her question.

“Not important.” He waved the brunette off, “C’mon, we’re here.”

Unexpectedly, his hand slips around her wrist, and it wraps tingly electricity up her arm then across her entire body. All at once the butterflies that used to be so perpetually embedded in her stomach returned in a rampant flurry. Her gaze slowly snapped up to meet his face. His smile hadn’t changed in the near 10 years apart and neither did the bright glint in his espresso eyes. Time seemed to slow around them for that split second where the electricity sizzled beneath both their fingertips and their eyes found each other’s just as easily as they used to. In that brief moment she could’ve sworn she was looking into the eyes of rail thin, tattooless teenage Noah.

“I know they got a Ring doorbell, so we gotta hide between the cars.” He whispered and ducked them both down as he weaved her through the vehicles in the driveway.

“I can’t fucking believe you talked me into this Noah!” She whisper-yelled at him, wanting nothing more than to properly reprimand him.

“Sh!”

They finally found themselves in front of the garage keypad conveniently out of view of the doorbell camera. Noah blinked blankly at plastic number pad without moving. His inked fingers tapped on his own crossed arm while his tongue stayed lodged between his lips in thought.

“Well? Go ahead! Get it over with.” She insisted, motioning urgently to the garage wanting it to be over as fast as possible. She tucked her hands across her body and into her sides giving her some semblance of comfort. The last thing she wanted was for their childish midnight antics to wake up the entire house.

“Hey! Give me time.” He rushed back, lifting a finger in her direction to shush her.

“Time? I thought you said you remembered it!”

“I do! …I think… if they haven’t changed it.” His tone much less confident than before.

“Noah!”

“Hush!” He pressed a finger to his lips at her and took a hesitant step towards the keypad. With a couple semi-sure clicks, the garage door slid open slowly. Amelia exhaled in relief at how the metal clangs of the garage were much quieter than she remembered. Still though, they creaked too loud for her liking, feeling embarrassment and anxiety flood her body.

“Yes!” Noah squeezed his fists up in victory. “See, told you I remembered.”

“Lucky guess.” She rolled her eyes with a smile.

Her eyes widened as the garage door unveiled a gorgeous white car. It was by no means a luxury car, not a Lexus or anything of the sort, but a high enough model to make you look twice. “Damn Mama Ruffilo, ridin’ in style now.”

Noah grinned as he scoots around the car. His smile was reserved, like she had discovered some award he was keeping hidden out of modesty. “Yeah, that’s the one we got her for Mother’s Day.”

“We?” She questioned, her head cocking to the side a bit.

“Yeah, Nick and me. We each paid half.”

“Oh wow, that’s really nice of you.” She replied softly. It didn’t take a genius to calculate just how much it would cost two broke DIY touring bandmates to pay for a new car, even in halves. The vehicle was shiny and spotless, evidently well taken care of – the type of care you’d put into a possession you never thought you’d own, the type of care that came from deep gratitude.

“It’s the least I could do for ya know… everything she’s done for me.”

Amelia nodded knowing exactly what he meant. It was no secret that he was more than a family friend to them, but it was nice to see that he recognized it too. While Noah might not have attended every family event or stayed for long, he showed his love and appreciation in his own small ways. Gifts were one of his favorite ways of doing so. Yeah, Noah might’ve only stayed at a Thanksgiving for an hour or two for food, but he was there long enough to make mental notes for next year, to bring extra cranberry sauce because Nick’s abuela loves it or extra croutons since Nick’s mom tends to snack on them while she cooks. He paid attention and he loved deeply, even if it didn’t seem that way on the surface.

He rustled around some miscellaneous garage junk in the corner, making more noise than Amelia felt comfortable with. She stood up on her tip toes to watch carefully him over the pristine car with her heart beating in her chest begging to rush him again.

“Ah! I knew it’d be here!” He said a little too loud out of excitement and promptly covered his mouth. His wide brown eyes met hers in a silent ‘oops, shit, sorry!’ plea.

In desperate need to escape the anxiety inducing mission, Amelia ran to the end of the driveway the second she saw the telescope in Noah’s hand. It took him longer than it should’ve just to snatch the item, but she didn’t question it or investigate much when he sped right past her after the garage began squeaking closed.

They made it out in record time, holding in their laughter until they reached the end of the street. It only took one look at each other to send them into a cackling fit. Amelia’s delicate hands found his thin arm and used him for stability, while the laughter shook her entire frame.

When they make it back to the park, he set down the telescope and unravels something she somehow didn’t notice he was carrying before.

“Did you steal that from their garage?!”

He grinned and proudly pulled another bottle of wine, white this time, from the blanket he also borrowed. “Yeah? And I’ll just replace them when I bring the telescope back tomorrow.” He carefully sat the wine down at her feet and spread out the buffalo-print blanket over the grass.

“You are so bad!” She chuckled, smacking him playfully with the excess of her long cardigan sleeve.

“Isn’t that what girls want? A bad boy?” He smirked jokingly, getting down on his knees to angle the telescope just right so that they didn’t need to stand up to use it.

She pressed her lips together as she watched him. Sure, that’s what some girls want, but not her. Even when he was landing them in detention every other day and keeping them out way past curfew – even when everyone else considered him a “bad boy” – she knew he wasn’t, not really.

Even now, whenever he got on stage, covered in ink, growling like a demon – she knew he wasn’t, and has never been, “bad”. Not the way she knew him. Amelia had a talent for seeing through people and she always saw right through Noah, from the first time she ever saw him in the back of her 3rd grade class. And all through adolescence, she saw him clearly through all his stormy confliction and thick brick walls.

Noah never saw it of course; how could he believe that someone as sugary sweet as Amelia could possibly ever see him as anything more than comical the social mask he wore with friends. In fact, he would even go as far to believe his mask was thickest and most opaque around her. Whether or not that was factual, didn’t lessen her ability to see him, really see him.

Being told you’re so wrong for so long, makes you believe that no one could ever see you as right. No matter how many friends Noah had at his parties, or fans in his crowds or girls in his bed, he never felt as though anyone saw him as enough. He got so exhausted from constantly trying to outdo himself that sometimes he forgot what exactly he was trying to accomplish.

Amelia never once believed the “bad influence, bad boy” propaganda their parents or teachers ever accused him of. To her, he was just Noah; the weird emo kid in the back of her classes, the neighbor down the street, the other older “brother” of the youngest girl scout in her troop. Amelia knew Noah at his core.

“Ah, bad boys are overrated.” She waved off his words casually.

He turned and gave her an unconvinced look, “Yeah, sure.” he glared playfully before sitting back on his legs. “Well, it’s ready if you wanna look.”

Amelia crawled across the blanket to meet him and peered through the telescope. Billions of tiny stars flooded the glass lens with twinkles and glimmers you’d never be able to see normally. Fluffy white clouds interrupted the view every so often, but it didn’t take away from the breathtaking scene.

“Whoa.” She mouthed quietly, just taking in the sight. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Sure is.” Noah agreed quietly, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them while he watched her.

They took some turns looking out of the telescope and passing the wine bottle back and forth before finally resting side by side on the picnic fabric. The air around them both was full of dwindling laughter over Noah telling silly stories about him and Nicholas and their roommates in LA. At surface level, he seemed to be doing well, despite claiming to hate LA, he appeared to be thriving there. Perhaps it was just the roommates that he enjoyed living with. Noah was never one to enjoy solitude, at least not for long periods of time. When he lived in their hometown, he was rarely wherever he was staying at the time. Getting comfortable anywhere was never his goal or motive. For the most part, it seemed like he enjoyed the constant change, the running. However, the way he talked about their home in California, all the stories he shared that brought the grandest smile to his face or the loudest boom from his chest all took place at their home. Amelia wondered what it must feel like for him to be back in their dreary little town, and if he rattled off all those stories was because he was homesick.

As the space between them flooded with a silence that was equally comfortable and uncomfortable, a question bubbled up that had been eating at Amelia from the moment she laid eyes on the tired darkness hanging beneath Noah’s eyes. His grin for most of the night was wide and toothy but she knew him better than that.

“So,” She turned her head towards him. “How are you, really?”

His eyes stayed transfixed on the stars above and he let a dense quiet settle over them before speaking.

“It must get so exhausting.” He stated, ignoring her question all together.

Her brows furrowed at his words, “What does?”

“Being so bright all the time.” He stated flatly, with a low dejected tone lacing his words.

“The stars?” She questioned with her brows still knitted.

“Sure. The Moon, the cosmos, all of it.” He brought his hands to interlace over his tummy. “Sure, the moon gets a break during the day and gets to disappear for a bit every month. And the stars get to die eventually.

“Right…?”

“But a star’s entire existence is to be bright - they only exist to be bright and then die. The moon works every night to serve as a giant nightlight and to shift some waves around. It must be so exhausting, all of it – being so bright all the time just to burn out into nothing.”

Noah had always been good at avoiding both his feelings and Amelia’s prying questions. It seemed age and time hadn’t changed that specific skill set. Maybe it’s true what they say, people never really change. It worried her that he might’ve not changed at all in that way.

“I mean,” She shifted her head to face the stars again trying to find the answers in the same place he was getting the questions. “You’re not wrong… but, think about the good that they do. The moon does so much on its own for us, you know the tides, the earth’s axis and all that. But we wouldn’t even be here staring at the sky without it all. They’re pretty and,” She shrugs. “And maybe, sometimes, that’s enough.”

“Right.” He responded curtly, pausing a long while before speaking again. “If the moon had consciousness… do you think it would care that most people know it for being pretty and not for being good at its job?” He pondered, not once looking over at the girl, perhaps afraid that his façade would crumble, and he’d spill the truth if he met her eyes.

Amelia’s brows furrowed together once more as she processed his words, doing mental gymnastics to decipher the underlying meaning. Another skill set Noah possessed was being dramatically cryptic, especially when it came to his internal turmoil. Whenever he had some battle waging within him, he suddenly transformed into a makeshift philosopher.

Looking the way he does, it’s fair to assume that his band had garnered recent attention due to his looks – most men would revel in the fleeting female attention, but not Noah. At least not enough to keep him from being contemplative on the lawn of their old park.

Girls or not, Noah had always been particular about his craft. He was lucky he found Nicholas first since he really let Noah take reigns of the entire operation. Like a true perfectionist, Noah carefully curated every song, every show, every rehearsal – even back when they were just playing in Nick’s garage with shitty amps.

Amelia analyzed his words, thinking over her response carefully. “I think the moon would be grateful for the attention either way.” She commented gently. “As long as she’s doing the job she’s meant to do, her beauty getting noticed is just a bonus. As long as she’s doing what she’s destined to do, I think she’d be content doing whatever she needs to, regardless of the affection towards her.”

“Yeah, I guess she would.”

Looking up at the sky, Amelia noticed just how round the moon was that night and how perfectly it was centered in the sky. It looked like the inside of a circus tent, like the star littered sky was just a patterned fabric pierced right in the middle by a giant moon-shaped hole. It felt like it too – as if they were the only ones in some carnival tent far away from anything bad. Below such a vast cosmos, they were just tiny specs of dust in the universe, and she was grateful for the temporary solitude. After years of not even being around Noah, he still made her feel the same. He had a knack for dissolving any real-life problems when they were alone together. When she was with him, she was in a world of their own making. She wondered if she did the same for him, and for his sake, she really hoped she did.

But alas, the bubble they created together that night was not one that could exist forever, and the big top tent must come down after a grand show.

Amelia and Noah ran out of words, at least ones meant to be said that night. They laid side by side with her right hand and his left not even a centimeter apart.

Noah was unaware of whether it was fear, nerves or sadness that fueled the drumming beneath his brittle ribs, but that same force also tugged an invisible string to lift his pinky.

Amelia’s eyes rounded and every muscle in her body tensed up the millisecond she felt him move up and hover over her own pinky.

But before he got the chance to lock over her finger, there was a frightening rustling behind some playground equipment followed by a bright light aimed right at them, blinding the pair.

“Hey! You kids aren’t allowed in here!” Boomed a deep, authoritative voice.

Amelia propped herself up on an elbow and immediately used her arm as a shield to keep the blinding light from burning her retinas any further.

Noah closed his eyes and let out a deep breath through his nose. It was one of the many familiar sounds from the town Noah hoped to never hear again.

“Sebastian? What an unpleasant surprise.” The voice taunted with a vicious edge.

“Officer Hawke.” The eyeroll was thick in Noah’s voice. “So great to see you.”

The big burly man shifted the flashlight beam to Noah directly. “Not shocking that the first time I see you back in town you’re up to no good.” He moved the light back to Amelia’s face. “Also, not shocking that you’ve reunited with your old partner in crime. Corrupting Miss. Alastor again, are we?”

“Officer, we just fell asleep earlier, we didn’t mean to be here so late.” Amelia lied for Noah like she always had. Her and Nick had been the goodie-two-shoes that were always bailing or covering for the long-haired boy. Well, Amelia was truly good, Nick was just skilled at masking his deviant tendencies, using his sweet golden-boy allure to fool everyone. As much as she hated breaking the rules, she secretly loved when Noah enabled it. Her teenage years wouldn’t have been nearly as fun or memorable without the two mischievous boys. Even just lying in the park with Noah after dark made her feel the most alive she’d had in years. It was exhilarating, no matter how much she reprimanded the boy for his reckless rebellion.

“Mhm. Sounds about right, you covering for Mr. Sebastian here, for god knows why.” He speculated, unconvinced. “It’s like I stepped back in time. It seems you both haven’t changed much.”

While the cop had been berating the two, Noah had already began packing up the picnic trying to end the interaction as quickly as possible.

“Sorry officer, it won’t happen again.” She lied.

“Sure.” He retorted. “Get you and your boyfriend out of here. Don’t let me catch you in here again.”

With that he turned and headed back to his vehicle. It was surprising that he just left the pair– not surprising that he just sat and watched them from the comfort of his cop car across the street.

Amelia helped Noah pack everything up before they made their escape from the park. Shortly after they were down the street, the cop car finally drove off. She walked in the direction of her house, thinking that Noah would part ways to maybe head towards Nick’s house to return the stolen items or to Vince’s where he was staying for the time being, but he stayed walking alongside her. He was quiet, which for Noah was strange, especially with her.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me home? I know you’re staying in the opposite direction.” She said, stuffing her cold hands in her pockets.

“I want to. It’s dangerous for you to walk alone.” He replied flatly, kicking a pebble across the sidewalk concrete.

Her house wasn’t particularly far from the other two’s, nothing in the tiny town was necessarily far from each other. With a town as small as theirs, a night walk home wouldn’t usually be considered dangerous.

“Well, thanks.” She replied cautiously.

She let her mind wander to the interaction they had at the park with Officer Hawke. Noah’s mood had been fairly consistent all night up until then. She mentally scolded herself for not realizing that running into the overly familiar cop would affect his demeanor. Maybe she just assumed that after so many years into adulthood he’d be over it, but evidently, it was foolish and incredibly mindless for her to believe so.

The rest of the walk was silent, just filled with the sounds of nature in the winter. The crisp cool air zipping with the wind, crashing into every solid object available while owls coo-ed into the darkness.

Finally, they arrived at the chain-link gate of Amelia’s small home. She rested her arm atop the pointy wires of the fence. Any other night she’d probably invite him in, but it was so late and all of the night’s events had already been enough to overfill her tummy with static-y nerves.

“Well, I-“ They fumble over each other’s words. Warmth blooms across Amelia’s cheeks at the joint misstep.

“You go.” She urged.

“No, you go.” He pushed back with a sheepish grin.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and dropped her attention down to her feet. “I was just gonna say that this was… nice.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “It was really nice to see you again Noah.” Her tone soft and genuine, as her eyes meet his again.

He was unprepared for how her eyes looked with the moonlight shining directly into them. He couldn’t remember the last time he looked into them so clearly. He forgot how different they were from each other, well, they weren’t really – but they were when one spent looking at them as intently as Noah had since he was 8 years old. Her eyes were both a hazel but one much more brown while the other had a pretty emerald hue.

“Yeah, it was really nice.” His words sounded true, but his voice was still strained by the sadness from the walk there. “I’m really happy I went into the shop this morning.”

Her lips worked overtime to keep from pulling into a giant grin and suddenly she was grateful for the darkness hiding the red staining her cheeks. “Yeah, me too.”

Noah sucked in a breath to speak but pauses, before returning again, “Um - Nick’s family is throwing their annual Christmas party this weekend, I’m sure he and the Ruffilo clan would love to see you.” He stated with his words moving slightly faster than normal almost like he was nervous to even ask, which is silly isn’t it? Being anxious to invite an old friend to a holiday party you both attended every year growing up? It shouldn’t be that nerve wreaking, right? He scratched the back of his neck. “If you want that is.”

Her eyes nearly light up enough to cut through the darkness. “Yeah,” She beamed a sweet smile up at him.  “I think I’d really like that.”

taglist; @lma1986 @alastriaa @missduffsblog @xxkittenkissesxx @ladyveronikawrites @baddestomens @measuredingold @jilliemiw86

[comment to be added to taglist<3]

A/N; thank you so much for reading - again this is my first time writing in 3rd person so i hope it was decent! i hope you enjoyed even though it is definitely not christmas time lmao - lmk what you think! 💗

[astayinwonderland]

I saw her first

pairing: jaehyun x f.reader x mark

genre: smut || very little plot || +18

summary: you are tired after a long day of meetings but you step into an elevator with jaehyun-- however, you don't know mark has his eyes on you too

word count: 1.9k

warnings: threesome, pet names, unprotected sex (don't), cursing, oral (f.receiving), cumshot, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom jae

a/n: the first ff I post anywhere so... enjoy! also english is not my first language

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚

When your eyes meet his, you are undeniably possessed by his gaze. Nothing in this world could compare to the way he looks at you. It’s intoxicating, but your fingers brushed, and the heat between your legs crave him and only him. 

“Which floor?” he asked. His voice is husky, calm. 

You clear your throat before you answer. 

“Thirteen.” 

He looks at you and says nothing. The elevator is still stuck on the Mezzanine level, but his fingers are on the close button and you can hear how your shaky breath blends into the background music. His eyes are light on you, and a shade of crimson crosses his cheeks. Chuckling, he presses thirteen on the elevator and watches how you regain composure. Curious, he crosses his arms around his broad chest. You want to feel his weight over your body right now. 

“Long night?” he asks. 

“The longest” you manage to reply. 

Bright eyes scan you up and down. You wish you wore your sluttiest dress tonight, but a beige cardigan hides all of your curves now. Traveling for work, you find yourself at a 6-day conference. Day 6 out of 6 you have not gotten the time to explore around the city. However, when you spot Jaehyun, your dream man, in the same elevator, this conference trip might not be bad at all. 

He takes two steps towards you and takes the ID dangling right above your abdomen. His eyes scan up to your breasts and he stops to look into your eyes. 

“Your name is pretty, just like you,” he smirks. 

In what seems to be the longest elevator ride ever, you nod getting a laugh from him. He presses another number on the elevator number pad. This is number twenty-five. His lips are so close to you now, you allow him to come closer. His plush lips hover over yours as his eyes devour you, disguised under his blonde fringe. 

“Come over to the twenty-fifth?” 

Silence. 

The elevator dings. This is floor thirteen, your floor. The safe haven you’ve been daydreaming about all day. But this was before Jaehyun was this close to you. 

You reach the close button and the elevator doors shut close. 

You grab Jaehyun by the collar of his body-tight black shirt and pull him into a kiss. Surprised, his eyes widen, but shortly you feel him melt into you. Hands grabbing your ass, wanting more. His tongue collides with yours, the taste of wine and desire overpowering you. Backing up, you find yourself pinned against the elevator doors. You almost didn’t notice when you are already on floor twenty-five. 

Jaehyun pushes you softly to get yourself out of the sinful enclosed space, never breaking your kiss. Tasting every lick, every liplock, everything you offer him. You are lost in him. His touch, his scent. You pull his hair enough to make him softly moan as he kisses you until you reach the double doors. You break the kiss to gasp for air. He shows you his room keys and you smile willingly. 

The doors open and the view of the city is breathtaking. You can’t help but be in awe. The lights are off, so all you can see are streetlights and the beautiful skyline of buildings. It is quite a scenery. Jaehyun hugs you from behind and starts to plant small kisses on your neck. 

“I am not doing anything you don’t want to.”

“Who said I didn’t want to, Jaehyun.” 

To his surprise, you knew his name, and he is pleased. His ego was boosted.

“So… you know me?” 

“Yes,” you say not turning to look at him. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers. 

Kiss open-mouth kisses travel from your neck to your shoulder as he cups your breasts and starts to undress you. You are stripped down to your bra when suddenly you hear a third person in the room. 

You jump, scared. 

The third person clears their throat. 

“I didn’t think you would go through it,” the voice says. 

Jaehyun, laughs, unbothered. 

You spin and look at Jaehyun, puzzled. What on Earth is happening?

Jaehyun moves to turn on the lights. 

Mark Lee. Sitting on the couch directly across from you. 

Your reaction is to cover your chest, shocked, and embarrassed. Your eyes find Jaehyun, his look apologetic. 

“I didn't know he was here, princess,” Jaehyun starts. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark says. He stands up and hands you your shirt. 

“See, Jaehyun saw you the other day, early in the morning. I saw you the day after that. I honor the fact that he wanted you first. But if you would allow us to please you, baby, you’ll have no regrets.” 

You are stunned. Speechless.

“What do you say?” Mark’s head cocks to the side, silver-white hair dangling to the side of his face.

“I call the shots, I saw her first,” Jaehyun pushes Mark closer to you. “Kiss him, princess.” 

You look at Jaehyn, your eyes lost, confused. You want this, you can feel Mark’s gaze on your breasts, on your lips. Anxious, waiting impatiently for you to accept him. A rush of adrenaline curses your head, and your chest, it goes down to the oh-so-sweet spot you crave these men to enter. You put your arms around Mark’s neck as you kiss him deeply. Letting go of any embarrassment you found within yourself before. Mark Lee tastes like desperate lust. He hungrily kisses you while Jaehyun focuses on getting rid of the pieces of clothing that cover your dripping sex. 

“Fuck,” Mark gasps from air breaking off the kiss. 

Drunk on his kiss, you are still not aware of your bearings when Jaehyun is already stripping his clothes off and guiding you to the bed. He doesn’t lay you there but only bends you over. Half of your body is on the bed, the rest of you still standing. Jaehyun kneels, and you feel his hot breath directly on your entrance. Your heavy panting is the only sound in the room. 

“Tell me what you want, princess. What would you like me to do with you?” Jaehyun asks. 

“Please,” you say, not really knowing what you are asking for. 

Mark stares at the two you you, blankly. He looks like he is in a trance-like state. Walking towards you and Jaehyun, he undoes his pants. 

“You sit there and watch,” Jaehyun orders. “Do you forget I saw her first?”

Mark runs his hand over his hair in frustration but can’t help to smile. He obeys and sits down on the same couch you found him before. However, his pants now pool on his ankles as well as his boxers. He looks at you, drunk in lust, slowly stoking himself, cock hard, red, erect. 

“Shit!” you yell. 

Jaehyun, flat, wet tongue slides inside you. Your hands grab the bedsheets fiercely as his tongue licks a long stripe from your clit to your entrance. 

“She tastes so good,” he tells Mark. “It’s glory,” and you feel him slide a finger inside you, stretching you out while his spit makes you even wetter and his tongue flicks up and down your clit. It’s sweet torture, keeping you right on edge, enjoying every second of you climbing to your high. 

But, Mark, oh Mark. His eyes are glued to you as your face expresses pleasure beyond understanding. He wants to be Jaehyun, he wants to be the cause of your moans. He wants you to hear you say his name when you cum. 

“Mark, come here,” Jaehyun says, not interrupting the pace at which his fingers enter you. “Taste her”. 

And now the world seems to slow down when Jaehyun removes his fingers from your squelching pussy and asks you to turn around. You find your legs spread on the bed, Mark standing in from of you. 

“Touch yourself, princess, and have Mark have a taste.” 

You swallow hard, but you obey. There is something alluring about Jaehyun's voice, like the voice of a siren. Beautiful, dangerous, but almost impossible to escape. Two of your fingers enter your core, and your immediate reaction is to close your legs. Luckily, or unluckily, at this point you are not sure, Jaehyun is there to keep your legs open. When you are about to get your fingers out completely. Mark shakes his head. 

“More,” he asks. 

And you obey him as well, his eyes begging for more. He wants all of you. You keep going, but you are so close to cumming that your moans start to get louder. 

“If I don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you let out desperately. It feels so good to have them watching you like this, you need one of them to stop you or you’ll be a goner. 

“Let me–” Mark interrupts, and you stick your fingers inside his open mouth. He savors every bit. Sucking on your fingers again and again. Without Jaehyun telling you to do so, you voluntarily spit on Mark’s aching cock. His eyes close as he resumes his stroking, thinking only about you. 

“You are naughty,” Jaehyun whispers while climbing to the bed where he manhandles you and gets one of your legs over your shoulders. 

Entering slowly, Jaehyun’s cock is perfect in every single way. He knows how to fuck. Waiting for you to adjust to him he starts deep and slow. The lustful rhythm makes your eyes cross and your head spin. 

“Tell me how you like it,” Jaehyun asks. 

“Fuck, I love it,” your eyes shut close, taking it all in. 

His pace quickens and your other leg wraps around him, grabbing his ass you encourage him to go deeper, faster, you want all of him and you want it now. A sharp breath catches your attention across the room. Mark, sweat dripping from his forehead, hair damp. Breathless as he watches you intently trying to get his high. Pre-cum leaks from his cock and you want it. The way he looks at you and Jaehyun inside you, this was it. You feel you are so close, the knot in your stomach ready to give up. You want them, you need them, and you can’t do this without both of them. 

Your moans are screams at this point. Jaehyun reaches your sweet spot and knowing you are close his thumb presses circles on your clit. 

“Fuck, please… I am so close,” you beg, 

“Please what, princess?” Jaehyun asks, breathless. 

“Make me cum.” 

“You heard that, Mark? Come closer,”: 

But Mark’s head is in outer space. He needs you to tell him that, it is you or no one else. 

“Mark–” you gasp. 

Now he walks towards you, not interrupting his own pleasure because you are the reason for that pleasure. You, all fucked out, is too much for him.

“Cum, princess. Only after you cum we can,” Jaehyun says. 

But you need him to say it again. 

“Cum for us, princess,”; Jaehyun repeats, and that does the trick. 

You look at Mark. 

“Cum hard for us,” he says. 

Your body spasms as you reach your so-desired climax and Jaehyun keeps fucking you through it while getting to his. A deep groan escapes his mouth as he pulls out and cums on your breasts. Mark is trying to get there but you open your mouth and he sees white. 

Hot cum is shot in your mouth as he finds his blissful relief. 

“Fuck…” he whispers before collapsing on the bed with you and Jaehyun. 

You can barely move when you feel hands helping you up and cleaning the evidence of a lustful night. You feel warm as Jaehyun plants a kiss on your temple. You open your eyes and give him a smile. Unexpectedly, Mark turns your head away from Jaehyun and his lips meet yours, a long-deep kiss. Your heart flutters and the so-well-known heat makes your nipples hard. 

“What?” Mark smiles. “It’s my turn, baby.”

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Absolution (End)

Lucretia is faced with her own mistakes and what the consequences might be if she forgets why they call her the Shadow Mother.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Found Family

“Can you come home now?”

Zala looked up from Lucretia’s arms with misty eyes. The elf often asked to be held without any fear of her mentor's sobering presence.

“Yes, of course. I will not abandon my people, and I owe you three a lot for securing my recovery ahead of time…” Lucretia faced her anticipating audience. The men were reaching out as if she might slip away again, but they were too modest to ignore decorum as quickly as their Sister.

“First of all, you deserve an apology.”

Letting Zala go, she floated back as much as she could in their modest space. She took off her miter, which was constructed from nothing but pure energy, as was the rest of her; the Shadow Mother was the wraith of a mortality left behind. The vessel she mantled was the one her people knew best, and she let it appear largely as cadaverous as she was before her ascension. She refused to be ashamed of her undeath, which she never chose for herself. Failing her kin, however, was a result of her choices.

The trio watched as she apologized for her arrogance, for taking their loyalty for granted. She was sorry for seeing herself as above consulting them about her plans, and just expecting them to comply. Her overconfidence put them all in danger and left them to clean up her mess.

The prestige tied to her name was earned, but she was not invincible, and she was the most responsible for reminding them that neither were they.

“My greatest joy would be for you to one day walk your own ways, but I cannot let you go with the presumption that any of us are untouchable. It would violate our third and most difficult tenet, and in turn, undo the others. All three must work together.”

They stared at her in stunned silence. It certainly confirmed her arrogance.

“But I have shackled your growth, and you have every right to be disappointed with me.”

Zala was quick to accept her apology. Lucretia had a hunch that she was just exhilarated with their reunion, as their bond sometimes leaned on the familial side over simply teacher and student. It wasn’t Lucretia’s intention for Zala to become so attached that it might hurt her autonomy, and they would have to work on that. Lafayette was similar, albeit more guarded with his opinion. It was likely that he followed Zala’s initiative, as he often did choose to go with the flow and submit to a more assurant personality. Only when the following silence got too tense for him did he seem to add his own input.

“You couldn’t predict that this would happen. But maybe… maybe we should have talked more beforehand. We could have helped you prepare better.”

Lucretia agreed with him and was pleased to hear him speak his mind. She then faced Cletus and found him avoiding her gaze. She had supervised him the longest, with promises of prestige dangling in front of him–which she knew he would eventually achieve–but she had held him back for years. Perhaps she feared for his safety, or perhaps she savored having such loyal acolytes at her beck and call, but loyalty was unwise without mutual trust. It might have dawned upon him and made him hesitant. She could not blame him.

They didn’t need to forgive her, and she was hoping that they would take their time with their final decision. Receiving her humility was what they deserved. As for herself, she could handle any heat coming her way from the cult. Uppity Dark Clerics who thought she got her comeuppance were insignificant when she had the honor of seeing her students flourish together.

Things eventually started returning to relative normalcy, but Lucretia had to rethink her approach as a teacher. She decided to bring the trio aside, one at a time, and offer to loosen her grip on them. If they were to grow further, they needed to be challenged, and she could use her privileged position to advance theirs.

Lafayette’s anxiety held him back from progressing any faster than at a sloth’s pace, and Lucretia knew that she contributed to his sheltering. The living and the dead could walk all over him, and he would take it in silence instead of standing his ground. His success in reclaiming control of his sight tasted of the respect that he longed for. It was going to be a lifelong journey to challenge his fears, and he would be facing setbacks, but such were the trials they all faced as early as learning their first tenet. He often settled among the cult’s archives, where anyone who needed something had to consult an archivist. If he was taught on how to manage their texts, others were wise to respect someone who held onto occult knowledge.

Zala rambled on about a dozen things on her wishlist, but it wasn’t quite material things that Lucretia had in mind. They could revisit that matter at another time, so the two concluded that her role in preserving their grounds should broaden beyond menial labor and patrols in Deathknell. She had proven that she could plan for and journey into the unknown, and then return safely on her own. An elven ranger was exceptional for sweeping across the wilds with her silvan knowledge, and even someplace as haunted as Lordaeron needed care to maintain balance. It was her home, and she should be free to explore and nurture it. Lucretia urged her to be vigilant as the eyes of the Forgotten Shadow, and Zala eagerly swore to honor the trust put in her.

Cletus’s relationship with her had become tense. He fought harder than he should have for their sake, and was facing burnout as his only reward if he was just going back to being her eternal promising student. For one who had come so far, she still hadn’t ordained him. They both knew that his weak point was vainglory, and while power was what they all sought, every cultist had to constantly measure their capacity for it. Even the most successful of Dark Clerics weren't above remembering the tenets, or they risked falling like she had done. Cletus could charm his way forward all he wanted, but it meant nothing if he wouldn’t practice what he had been preaching in this time. Whenever he felt certain about it, Lucretia promised to be there to avow his commitment, and bow back at him as an equal.

She was self-aware enough to recognize her worries about letting go of control, knowing what it might cost a Shadow priest to be careless. She was proof herself of what rigid discipline could accomplish, but her students would never be able to breathe if they couldn’t reach above the surface. All four of them were left with scars reminding them of their trials, that they saw it through, and that there would be more trials to come. They would continue to face failure, prejudice, hatred and devastating loss, and she couldn’t always be there to protect them. What she could do was teach them how to protect themselves, and each other, until they were ready to walk their own ways. Their paths were not for her to decide for them, when such was not the will of the Forsaken.

It was challenging to adapt and persist through difficult times, and there may be endless time for any Forsaken to lead. But they were a stubborn people, and when those who reviled them as abominations kicked them down, they crawled back up and spat in the faces of their oppressors. The Cult of Forgotten Shadows sought to enhance what it meant to be Forsaken, and when to be Forsaken meant spiteful survival, they embraced the shadow that had been cast over them.

[fallinforerling]

Hiiii

Massive fan of that smut series concept???

I have a request for if you feel like writing it. I just saw a video of Jack saying Erling is always the longest in the shower, so I was thinking almost getting caught with Erling?

Love you xx

in and out | erling haaland + some like it hot series

☆ warnings: +18 content, minors dni. p in v, unprotected sex, swearing.

ೃ⁀➷ some like it hot series

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

☆ prompt: almost getting caught

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

from all the ways your visit at the etihad stadium could’ve ended, this wasn’t on your list.

you didn’t know what was going on with him when he invited you—although it definitely felt like you had no option whatsoever— to visit him for a little personalized tour after training. it wasn’t like you hadn’t been there before; you’d visited the stadium a couple of times for matches but never been able to wander around the facilities due to the number of people present. today, you encountered what seemed like a totally different place; almost empty, the stadium was quiet except for the occasional scream or chat behind closed doors when you passed by them. erling walked next to you, chatting about the dressing room and how insanely large the showers were; he wasn’t fooling anyone, he was totally lurking you in the most private place on the stadium, where most of his teammates weren’t stepping a foot in. you noticed his wicked smile once he verified that the place was deserted. you could feel what he was trying to do, and that was because you wanted that as well. 

it’s been months of fooling around, flirting, and mostly giving each other heated stares when you thought no one else was paying attention. you were just waiting for something to happen—something that could destroy or transform your relationship with erling. while you entered the dressing room and admired the row of seats, the kits hanging above the lockers and pretended to pay attention to the decoration while erling’s fingers brushed against your exposed arm, you could also feel his eyes burning holes in your whole figure due to the light sundress you insisted on wearing due to the hot weather in manchester. what a good decision. 

the sexual tension wasn’t funny anymore. your skin was aching for his touch, and you didn’t know how much longer you could bear this stupid back-and-forth you two had going on. this wasn’t normal between friends. 

“that’s a cute dress, y’know?” you felt his hand caress your thigh once you took a seat in his booth, his touch sending goosebumps all over your body and an electric feeling that went straight to your core while his eyes were fixated on the way the material of your dress kept going upwards with every move you made. 

“i thought you might like it.” you bit your lip, following the movements of his hand as his thumb started to massage your skin, making it difficult to act like you weren’t affected by it. like you weren’t dying to open your legs and let him do whatever he wanted to you. this was the most outrageous behavior you’d ever allowed yourself to have around him. 

“i don’t like it.” the side of his mouth lifted, his eyes meeting yours. “i love it. covers just enough to make me wonder…”

“wonder what?” your eyes went to his hand, which hadn’t left your thigh. 

“you know what.” you felt his hand brushing against your chin, tilting your head slightly, so you looked up. “wanna see the showers?”

his eyes were telling you a completely different story. you knew that if you said “yes”, you weren’t agreeing to see the showers. it could end in a big, horrible, disaster for both of you… but did it matter at this point?

“sure…” he smirked once the word left your lips, taking your hand, guiding you to the rows of very fancy doors, each open to reveal a very wide space where four people could easily fit. he was right about them being insanely big. 

no words were exchanged as you both entered the last one in the row, the door slamming shut behind erling’s back. you turned, not knowing exactly what to expect; but as soon as your eyes met again, he grabbed you by the neck, making your body clash against his as his lips looked hungrily for yours. a gasp left your mouth, grabbing handfuls of his shirt as your back touched the cold tiles of the shower once he cornered you.

his kisses were fast, messy, and desperate. they felt like he’d waited way too long for it; as far as you were concerned, you did too. you met his pace, feeling as hungry for him as he seemed to be for you. not even your wildest fantasies could’ve met the reality of kissing erling. his hands roamed through your body, staying on your ass, massaging it so good that you moaned against his mouth. 

“there’s no way i’m letting you fuck me here, erling.” you whispered once the kiss finished, your voice tone not even close to being convincing. you didn’t feel very convinced about not wanting him to fuck you either . 

“why not? no one’s going to notice.” your own hands were exploring his shoulders and biceps, making your mind wander to the previous times you had seen him shirtless. “you saw how empty this place is. i promise we’ll be out of here before anyone comes… how does that sound?”

“i don’t know…” while you acted like you were thinking about it, his lips caressed your neck, leaving kisses that made you bite your lip as hard as you could endure to not spur out the word “yes” in such a desperate tone. 

“are you sure you don’t want to?” you could feel his hands on your legs, one of them getting dangerously close to your core. “i’ll make you feel so good…” the whisper sent shivers through your back, making your thoughts intertwine with each other until you were kissing again, unable to say no. 

because, god, you wanted him to fuck you; it didn’t matter if the fucking king walked in. 

his touches were soft as he raised your dress up your ass, leaving you exposed and blushing as he finally took it off your body. his eyes didn’t waste time, taking in the delicate white set you had on, his chest going up and down until he finally met your eyes. 

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” you didn’t know if you were this nervous from the way he was looking at you, or from the compliment that made you aware of your half-naked body. not like it mattered. 

your eyes followed him, having to restrain yourself from saying something stupid once he got rid of his shirt, leaving all that incredible body on display. your eyes were inviting him to just do something, so when he finally got near, you couldn’t help but touch every inch of skin available. he was so… god. 

his touched the back of your legs, effortlessly lifting you until you were seated on a little tile bench that you didn’t know was there to begin with. your eyes never left his as you felt him caressing your thighs, his fingers massaging your skin so subtly that you didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness as they traveled upward. just as his fingers lingered just above your core, you let out a gasp. 

“can i?” hearing him ask sounded a bit ridiculous due to the situation, but you appreciated how he still cared to ask for consent even though you were two seconds from begging. 

“yes…” your voice came out weird to your ears, a slight blush covering your cheeks as he took your underwear off, the feeling of the fabric against your legs made what was about to happen ten times more real. you knew you were already wet as his touch became lighter on your inner thighs, your breath coming to a halt as his fingers touched your folds, your eyes shutting as soon as his thumb brushed your clit. 

“look at me…” he said suddenly, his fingers grabbing your chin to tilt your head. when you didn’t open them right away, you felt his thumb caressing the side of your jaw, squeezing just enough to make you pay attention. “look at me.” 

his harsh tone made you look up at his face, which showed an expression that you just couldn’t decipher. it made him ten times more attractive; you just couldn’t look away from the intensity of his eyes or the way his jaw was clenching. your mouth fell open when you felt his finger slowly circling your entrance before sliding in painfully slow, letting you feel— and adjust— to his large digit. you wanted to hide, ashamed of the moan that left your lips once he added a second one, curling them while they went in and out, making your legs shaky by the feeling of it, making you wonder how good his dick would feel inside of you.

“feels good, baby?” he asks, a playful undertone to his question that made you smile through the pleasure he was giving you. the feeling of his thumb circling your clit and his fingers curling deep down your core made you whimper, a quick nod being the only answer he got. “told you i was going to make it worth it.”

“you’re such a cocky—” a moan interrupted your words once he added a third finger, having you gasping for air for a moment. “bastard.” you finished, closing your eyes a second time while your body adjusted to the size of his slender fingers. 

it felt too good, and by the slow-burning feeling that was building up, you knew you were very close to cumming. you stared at him for a long moment before grabbing his neck, pulling him for a kiss that had both of your breathing shaky, your kisses messy as you tightened around him. 

“i’m so close, oh my—” you couldn’t even finish the phrase as you felt your orgasm hit you with force, having to grab onto him as you saw stars behind your eyelids, feeling a sudden fear of being too loud for someone to hear. you felt erling’s lips traveling from your neck to your shoulder, his fingers still moving for a few seconds before he retrieved them, leaving you feeling empty and needy for more. “fuck me…” you whispered against his chest, leaving a trail of kisses until your lips were next to his ear. “now.”

your hands looked blindly for the waistband of his shorts, palming through the fabric until you felt his clothed dick hard against your palm. erling let out a shaky breath while you played with the waistband, slowly lowering it until his shaft hit the bare skin of his stomach. it was such an erotic view that you felt your mouth water a bit. then, as your hand encircled his dick, reality hit you: you didn’t have a condom with you, and you doubted that erling did either. and why was the idea of him fucking you bare so hot? 

luckily you were on the pill. 

“fuck…” he whispered when you started to jerk him off, enjoying how his dick seemed to get bigger— which was impressive due to him being already big. “you’re such a tease.” he laughed, grabbing your shoulders so you couldn’t have a choice but to back off, looking at him with a playful smile. 

he manhandled you so well that it surprised you how much it turned you on. your back was totally glued to the wall as he grabbed your thighs, making your legs open at each side of his hips. it felt like an out of body experience, your eyes fixated on how he was adjusting himself, the tip of his cock glistening with your juices when he teased your entrance, making both of you moan lowly. as he entered you, you grabbed his arms, your nails digging into the skin, your head tilting back. 

“oh go—” 

“mate? are you here?” just when you were about to let out a moan— a very loud moan— you heard a voice a bit far away from where you were, but undoubtedly near enough to hear anything if you spoke up. “erling?” then you recognized the brum accent, your eyes going wide as you stared at erling. 

jack was here. 

“yeah?!” against whatever you believed erling would do, he fucking answered. and when you thought it couldn’t get worse, he started to bump into you as slowly as he could, making your mouth wide open, a silent moan being your only response. “what’s up?” 

your shook your head, wanting him to just shut up and get jack away from the booth; but something in his eyes told you that he was about to do the exact opposite. the kinky shit. 

“nothing, i just heard you had a friend over for a visit.” you couldn’t concentrate on jack’s presence, even though it was mortifying, while erling’s pace got a bit higher, his hand covering your mouth when it opened again. “heard she’s really nice.” 

“oh yeah, she’s extremely nice.” erling’s smile grew bigger, making you give him a dirty look. 

all of the sudden, you felt his thumb circling your clit, making you whimper despite his hand covering most of your moans, leaving the room in a weird silence while you were very sure jack was standing right behind the door. your nails kept leaving traces on erling’s skin, your mind wanting to find anything to distract you from the pleasure you were feeling. it was twisted, since there was a person about to catch you fucking with erling, but that only made the situation hotter. 

“man, you’re always taking the longest time in the shower. when you get out, introduce me to that friend of yours, yeah?” you heard jack’s sigh, making you wonder if he even noticed anything weird going on. “well, see ya when you finish, princess. make sure to put on conditioner.” 

“fuck you.” erling said, his eyes never leaving yours as his thrusts became faster, his fingers still stimulating you as you tightened around him. 

finally, you heard the main door shut. you waited a few seconds to slap his arm, his hand still lingering on your mouth while his pace increased, leaving you breathless. he never stopped, and when he finally removed his hand and you had the opportunity to say something, you didn’t. the thing was… you couldn’t say anything because you were too stimulated to make up something coherent. all you could do was stare at him, biting your lip as hard as you could to stop the moans just in case someone else walked in, feeling wetter by the second. you couldn’t believe he was going to make you cum a second time. 

“i think i was wrong about no one walking on us.” his smile let you know he wasn’t even sorry about it. 

“you think?” you say with a strangled voice, moaning quietly when you felt him hitting the right spot inside of you. “asshole.” 

“you sure love this asshole’s dick, don’t you?” he went back to leave kisses on your neck and collarbone, sucking on the skin so gently that you didn’t notice at first. “you feel so fucking amazing.” then he moaned right above your ear, and you absolutely lost it. you moaned too, holding on for dear life to him as your second orgasm hit you so suddenly you didn’t even become aware of it until you felt erling tensing under your touch. “fuck…” 

and then you felt how he came right after you, tightening his grip around you as he gave a final thrust, going deep inside you that you felt his cum filling you up. the two of you stayed like that for a while, your breathing loud and erratic while you recovered from what just happened. you were afraid of looking up from his chest, knowing that now, when the euphoria has worn off, you have to face the fact that you just fucked erling and got almost caught. just as it all started, no words were exchanged when he finally pulled out, a quick glance being all that was needed for him to grin and for you to giggle. 

“do you have something to clean your cum off me?” he laughed at that, going to the wall next to you, pulling out wet tissues and a tiny towel from a cabinet you hadn’t noticed. this place was full of surprises. you stretched out your hand, wanting to take them from him. 

“let me do it.” his answer shocked you a bit, so you just nodded. his touch felt way different— more intimate—as he cleaned you, making sure you were all set before helping you get off the bench, his hands never leaving you until you put the dress on, looking around with an arched eyebrow. “what?” he asked when you kept looking. 

“where’s my underwear?” 

“who knows…” his mischievous tone made you look at him just in time to catch him stuffing the white lace in the pocket of his shorts. 

“erling! give them to me!” you reached for his arm, only to get manhandled again, this time in a playful way that had you smiling. “that’s my underwear!” 

“finders keepers, darling.” he whispered in your ear before kissing you by surprise, taking your mind away from it all. 

maybe you made the right choice by following him into the showers.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * ERLING’S TAGLIST —

@questionable-behaviour | @koufaxx | @xjval | @nikki01234 | @evarasworld | @kynykyny | @alleyahah | @444pantheress | @football4life9 | @f1lover55 | @frankcastleonlyfans | @ironmaiden1313 | @pizzapie349 | @may-machin | @squirreljoe | @lettersofgold

[weretheones]

All You Got | Part 8

Part 8: Observant

Plot: Daryl Dixon hadn’t known much beyond anger and loneliness his whole life, until he found family at the end of the world. Everything he grew to care about was ripped away the day the prison fell; so when he recognized you, an enforcer of his loss, hiding in that cabin, he almost pulled the trigger. But after you end up saving his life, he couldn’t find the indifference to leave you for dead, even if you’d been on the Governor’s side. (Mid-Late Season 4) 

Series Masterlist | AO3 Version

Paring: Eventual Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 7.6k (oops) Warnings: typical twd content. mentions of death. a bit suggestive wink wink. A/N: hi hi. apologies for the late posting (again). exam season is in full swing and im drowning a bit. butttt, I managed to get this little (its the longest chapter yet lol) part out for you guys <3 just cause I love u so much. ps. the gif is a hint ;)

Every step west of that cottage distanced you further from the cold front following yesterday’s rain. The day hadn’t started exceptionally hot, but the week’s gradual dip in temperature made the sun’s increasing beat feel more eager than you’d known it as of late. The further you got, the more frequent sips you took from the lukewarm water bottle in your bag, even tying that sweater you’d been cuddling for warmth in, just yesterday, around your waist. 

Daryl seemed alright, all things considered. His arm hadn’t proved too troublesome, but the area had proved relatively deserted anyway. The two walkers you came across were tired and slow. Not much of a threat. The heat didn’t seem to bother him, either; he hadn’t shed the flannel underneath his vest yet. 

The sun was at its highest point in the sky when you met the border of the next town, a few hours later. 

“You’ve been through here before?” You asked Daryl, pointing to your spot on the map while walking side by side down the first commercial strip of the town. The stores looked like something out of a movie, quant but full of country charm. If it hadn’t been for the boarded windows and rusted cars sitting in the road, it would’ve been a lively sight. 

“When we first cleared the prison. Made our way through all the places nearby, too.” 

“Couldn’t have left a little for us?” You teased, glancing up at him. 

“There’s still some left. Shit we didn’t need.” 

“Shit we might need?” 

“Mhm. Lemme see tha’.” He grabbed the map from your hand, raising one of his own to block the sun from his eyes. He glanced over the paper, squinting at the tiny roads, then at the street sign above. 

“We can take this to Red Oak.” He tapped the street lines on the map, then continued forward. 

“What's on Red Oak?” 

He looked over his shoulder with a slight smirk. 

“Somethin’ we need.” 

It wasn’t until halfway down Red Oak Drive that you realized what that was. 

When it clicked, you smiled. 

It was an auto repair shop. Daryl had been here before, briefly as he told it, but long enough to make note of a few vehicles still in good condition. One of which was an old, dark blue hatchback that only needed a new battery and some gas to get started again. It was still sitting in the backlot, bathed in the sun’s last harsh rays of the season after the two of you made your way around the building. 

Daryl popped the hood. It was in the same condition as it was when he first found it, with a dead battery and dusty windows. 

“Do we… recharge it?” 

You didn’t know much about cars other than how to drive them. 

“Unless ya got a generator I don’t know ‘bout,” Daryl quipped, to which you softly rolled your eyes. “We need a new one.”

“Well, there’s gotta be something here.” You looked back to the building. 

“Mhm.” He nodded, closing the hood again. “Come on.” 

He kicked the back door three times. You were surprised that hadn’t been enough to bring it down; it was a flimsy thing. They must’ve not worried much about burglars in a small town like this. The brick wall was sturdy, though. Ridged edges pressed into your shoulder as you leaned against it, one leg crossed over the other while the wait began. A breeze of crisp, much more seasonally appropriate air rushed by, fluttering your few loose pieces of hair; you’d have to redo that mess of a ponytail soon. 

Daryl readjusted his hold of the crossbow, rolling his shoulders back— as well as he could, the left one was still noticeably stiff. 

You weren’t subtle about keeping an eye on him. 

“How’s the shoulder?” 

His eyes squinted under the bright sun. “Fine.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“’S a bit sore,” he admitted.

“I tried to tell you.” The loose smile on your lips was sympathetic, rather than teasing. 

“I know.” Daryl chewed at his lip. “But, I know ya get why I couldn’t stay there, neither.”

You stood a bit straighter, and the smile slipped away. 

“I do.” 

Daryl nodded. The air was heavy, not only with the newfound heat but a lingering tension— knowing— between you. If there was anyone who could understand his urge to find what was left of his family, it was you. The night you told him about your brother was still fresh in memory. There had been a vagueness you kept about the whole thing, a tone that could have sounded like a casual acceptance of fate, but Daryl remembered that look in your eye. The tear that slipped past. He didn’t have any doubt that you’d searched as far as you could for him.

But some people were too far gone. 

The shared silence between you two had grown comfortable these last few weeks. This one was different. Stretching seconds, then a minute, it made his muscles heavy. His weight felt unbalanced, even with two feet on the ground. 

Daryl had never been good with words— unless you counted those snarky quips he made. He either didn’t think at all or thought too long. It made him snappy and surly, the type of man people would’ve avoided before this thing. Somewhere there was a list of names to prove it. And yet, he had something to say. He wanted to. 

“Thank you,” he finally mumbled. 

Your expression lifted at that. “For what?” 

“For keepin’ an eye on me. Takin’ care’a me the way ya did.” 

Still, you seemed confused. A knit of your brows and a sweet look in your eye as you tried to pick apart some deeper meaning. Of course, you helped him. That’s what you promised, back at the start. 

“Of course,” you replied. “What else was I gonna do?” 

“I didn’t think you were gonna leave or nothin’,” he said, recalling your conversation while patching him up. Loyal ran deep in you, like it did him, and he trusted that you wouldn’t just leave him to rot. “But a lot’a people would’a.” 

Maybe that’s what he meant. Thank you for not being that person. 

You blinked, readjusting your focus on his serious demeanour. He was reserved, his lips drawn in and eyes barely holding your stare. 

“Well, that’s not us,” you said plainly. 

A reminder that he’d given you that loyalty, too. You weren’t sure if there were words to express how it didn’t feel so difficult to give your attention and care to the health of the man who fought tooth and nail for you to live, even after all the harm you’d caused him. It wasn’t even that you felt you owed him, but you knew he deserved it. 

Daryl gave you a small glimpse of a smile. Soft and sweet, like he was proving to be— deep down, at least. It drew a lopsided grin from you too. Your temple rested against the cool brick wall, and under the sun’s golden glow, you looked quite pretty like that. It was a talent, how quickly you could turn the charm back on; nothing else seemed to grab his attention the same way.  

“After all, what are friends for?” 

Daryl scoffed. He hoped he didn’t sound ungrateful when he blurted, “Tha’s wha' we are now?” 

“I would say so. We keep saving each other’s lives and the conversation is half decent.” You shrugged, as if indifferent. But your smile had turned playful not long ago, about the same time he noticed a warmth at his cheeks.

He’d blame it on the heat, if you asked. 

A second or two later, a walker slammed against the door. 

Daryl’s shoulder wasn’t too restraining; he lured the lone monster out and freed his knife from its skull without breaking a sweat. You gave him a quick smile of acknowledgment before the two of you stepped inside. 

The garage was in rough condition. A sign that was probably falling apart even before the world did, cheap tile floors, and a thick smell of mildew mixed with something decomposing— you were, unfortunately, quite knowledgeable about that smell, by now. The nicest thing about the building was that big roll-down window in the front that let the storefront become soaked in sunlight. The summer must’ve been a lot more tolerable with that wide open.

When the sunlight sneaking into the abandoned building didn’t reach far enough, Daryl held a flashlight in his mouth and scanned the store with his bow. His left shoulder was still stiff, so he had to depend on his other arm to bear most of the weight. Of course, you’d already tried to get him to keep it on his back, if anything, and take the gun instead— but he refused. All but demanded you keep the gun for yourself. 

The two of you searched the aisles with quiet steps, waiting for another unfriendly face to jump out of the shadows. 

It didn’t come. 

Instead, you gathered the few supplies Daryl needed, even pocketed a pair of sunglasses that you were sure would be useless after today, and went back out to that warm autumn day. Sitting on that small bench by the side of the building, eyes protected from the sun, you watched Daryl pop the hood of the car. He was quick at work, dexterous fingers tinkering with different parts of the vehicle that you could barely label. 

Between sips of water, your sight caught on those fingers— now smeared with grease— perhaps a second too long. When he turned to wipe his hands along that red rag in his back pocket, he noticed your lingering eye and paused.

Hesitated. 

With the pair of you caught off guard, you tried to break the quickly growing tension and asked, “Were you an auto mechanic before?” 

Daryl shook his head, bangs falling in his eyes as he did. He stretched underneath the hood again but spared you a glance back. Eyes squinted under the sun, the shine of sunlight hitting the grease along his exposed skin; the scene before you was beginning to look like something out of those ridiculous male model calendars. 

“I jus’ know cars,” he rumbled, a slight smirk to match that thick accent.

It was getting absurd, really; the hot sun wasn’t the only thing making you blush. 

You swallowed another gulp of water. 

It turned out the battery issue wasn’t too complicated. Daryl recounted some of his steps to you, telling you about which wire connected to which point, and so on. It was valuable information, undoubtedly worth paying attention to. The only problem was that by that point, the sun’s beat had stripped him of his vest and hitched the sleeves of his flannel around his elbows. The fact that the top three buttons were undone, opening across that broad and bare chest of his, wasn’t lost on you, either. 

It felt like a tease. He did. 

All you could do was nod along with his rough drawl and lean against the cool brick wall while you tried to deny checking him out. But really, everything else came second place to the swell of that shirt around his biceps, and his tense, thick forearms. Muscles overworked after dealing with tight gears and heavy equipment. 

The shade of those sunglasses was dangerous, giving you the excuse to let your eyes roam free all while Daryl was none the wiser— or so you hoped. 

Thoughts you hadn’t entertained in a long time began to roam free, too. It hadn't bothered you when they left; survival was the top priority, not romance or desire. Of course, the lack of time and potential suitors was a factor, too— why would you think about that when there wasn't even a chance for it? But here you were now, staring at Daryl, and recalling that fluttering feeling of attraction in your gut all too well. 

He was kind and strong. Whatever brute strength and resilience he had was matched with that three-sizes-too-big heart of his. After all, who else would take in an injured stranger, nevertheless one that attacked you just hours beforehand? Daryl might’ve blamed it on getting even, after you helped him from the window, but you knew there was something more behind that harsh stare of his. 

Something delicate. 

For whatever reason, you’d been lucky enough to see that gold-hearted nature firsthand. It sliced through his rough exterior, sparkling like a piece of glass caught in the sun. It was fragile, but you’d seemed to weave your way inside, anyway. 

You inhaled— stop. 

It might've felt otherwise, but there was still parts of Daryl you didn't know. Sometimes you forgot he was a man you’d known less than a month, been friends (barely) with less than two weeks. Even if he proved to be a good person, and was clearly easy on the eyes, from the obvious display ahead, these thoughts were intrusive. Perhaps an outcome of an idle mind. A natural attraction after a string of moments free of tension; all those life-or-death events bonded you, for better or worse, and as the urgency and blood washed off, you were falling victim to the full extent of that tie. 

“Got tha’?” 

“Mhm,” you faintly hummed. 

He said your name— no, repeated it. Embarrassment snapped you back into focus. Here you were daydreaming and practically ogling the man, while he was trying to teach you something. Help you. 

“Asked ya to grab another jug.” He gestured to the empty distilled water in his hand. Thank God, you were able to ignore that flex of his arm— mostly— when he did. 

“Right, yeah, of course,” you stammered. He tossed you the small flashlight before you scurried back into the building. The dark, cool air was a welcome relief against your hot cheeks, and you hoped it’d bring down whatever flush had inevitably crept up your chest.

At least you had those sunglasses. 

Maybe Daryl could feel your eyes roam his bare arms, chest, neck— stop— but you still had an inch of dignity left; he couldn’t prove it past the dark tint of those glasses, now sitting at the top of your head. 

Strolling through those same aisles, you grabbed another jug and tried to shake the last of those thoughts from your mind. Like how his eyes were as blue as the pretty Georgian sky, and were quickly becoming a solace for you. 

You were starting to like the looks he gave you— like he had while waiting at the door. It wasn’t that he was easy to read, no, you’d probably be fighting for a glimpse into those thoughts of his for the rest of your life. But every time you met those eyes that were once so harsh, you remembered the forgiveness he’d shared with you. The kindness. Perhaps it was a bit selfish because when you thought about that, it made something bloom deep in your chest. Something warm and sweet and good. 

You wanted to share it with him too. 

Somehow. 

Helping him find his people was your first try. You hoped you wouldn’t need a second. 

You grabbed the second jug of distilled water and turned to head back. 

A thump came from behind. 

It was odd. Two years spent in this world and yet, in a week, you’d reverted right back to that jumpy girl at the start. The air became thin, and you had to suck in a deeper breath just to keep your head straight. Heart pounding against your ribcage.

The last time you were in a dark store alone, it ended up with three people dead and Daryl shot. 

You spun around, flashlight high. The light danced across the aisles, no walkers or living under the fluorescent glow. That wasn’t enough to soothe your anxieties, so you placed the jug on the ground next to you and grabbed your gun, instead. 

It was then that your light landed on an exit sign. You could see the frame of a door below, in the far corner of the store. You approached it carefully, previously neglected as the pair of you assumed it was just a fire exit leading to that back alley, but now, with your heart still beating fast, you suspected something more lying behind that door. 

You twisted the handle carefully, gun ready in the other hand, but it was locked. 

You checked the front desk, found a ring of keys, and tried two before you found the right one. By then, your heart had slowed a bit. An engaged lock between you and that warning was slightly comforting, but you were still on edge. Finger ready by the trigger, if needed. 

The door creaked open and you stepped inside. 

Immediately, you found the source of the thump. A lone walker. Long, thin hair that was missing chunks and skin like leather stretched across its loosely hung open jaw. Its eyes were wide, staring out to the door you’d just walked through, but other than that low moan that rasped past its throat, it barely moved. 

The walker was old and frail, decomposing in this backroom alone since, if you could guess, the start. It didn’t even try to crawl. It couldn’t, there was a heavy cast on its leg reaching up to its upper thigh. A mop lying on the floor— maybe the thump. A bottle of antifreeze sat next to it, a dried splash of something bumpy and red. 

Puke. 

She killed herself. Locked alone in a backroom, with a broken leg and no other choice. 

The various ways you found the dead often reflected their last moments. Guts hanging out and bits of muscle torn from their flesh meant the obvious. Bullet and knife wounds, too. At the start, the mourning had almost been unbearable. Suffocating. Sympathy never stopped, there were simply too many roaming the world. It became dormant after one too many tried— and almost succeeded— to kill you. Then, something you only ever thought about in silent moments like this one. 

You unsheathed your knife and stepped over the fallen mop. It was the least you could do. 

The room was untouched. It didn’t have many valuables. Not for this world, anyway. There was a stack of cash and a nice bracelet in the bottom drawer of the desk, but nothing other than a couple of mints and a screwdriver that was worth keeping. In the top drawer, you found a single key on a thick, metal ring.  

You pocketed it, just in case. 

Other than the desk and those wobbly shelves filled with client records and taxes— a whole lot of paper— there was only that lumpy grey blanket, draped over something leaning against the wall, left to check out. You peeled it off carefully, but a cloud of dust surrounded anyway. Between coughs, you recognized what was underneath. The somber tone of the room lifted quickly, then. 

From the front of the store, Daryl called your name. Apparently, you’d been taking too long and his suspicions had arisen. 

“I’m okay!” you called back, clearing your throat one last time. “Be there in a second.”  

Even though you knew even less about motorcycles than you did about cars, you smiled as you gripped the handles. You were betting Daryl knew about bikes, too. You kicked up the stand and moved the bike through the store. Twisting it around the aisles and picking up that leftover jug of distilled water as you did. 

“I found something.” You grinned as you stepped back into the sunlight. 

Daryl’s eyes widened when he saw what you were leading. 

“No way.” He said, wiping his hands across the red rag, before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Where’d ya find this?” 

“Backroom. We missed it earlier.” You pulled out the keys you found as Daryl quickly grabbed the bike.

His hands ran over the handles, then the seat. 

“And I think I found the key.”

He had a ridiculous grin plastered across his face. You hadn’t even realized he could smile like that. 

“Pass ‘em ‘ere.” 

You dropped the ring in his open palm as he straddled the bike, thighs on either side. He looked down at the beast of a vehicle between his legs like it was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. 

And then he looked back at you with that same look, and it almost made those intrusive thoughts from earlier seem a bit less insane. 

You were sure you had a goofy grin of your own. “You know how to ride one of these?” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Sorry. Stupid question,” you chuckled, eyes roaming over his leather vest— back on— and patchwork jeans. You never liked stereotypes, but Daryl sure was one sometimes. 

“Jus’ a bit,” he quipped. 

“You know,” you mumbled, smile growing, “I’ve never been on one.” 

“Never?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well, come on, girl.” 

You certainly didn’t need convincing. He shuffled forward, giving you the space to swing your leg over the seat behind him. At first, your hands grabbed at the spot, maneuvering your balance into a comfortable sit— but the overwhelming sight of Daryl's exceptionally broad back, draped in that black leather vest, soon had you squirming again. 

“Ya gotta hold on to me, alright?” 

“Okay,” you mumbled. You placed your shaky hands on his sturdy shoulders, like handlebars of your own. It was lucky that he was wearing that vest now—an extra layer between your skin and his— because you were pretty sure your palms were slick with sweat by that point. 

“Not there.” Daryl’s hand wrapped around the bend of your elbow, gently pulling your hands down. “Don’t need ya diggin’ a finger in my scab.” 

Then he repositioned them around his waist. 

Like it had been nothing. 

It had— you reminded yourself. Whatever bothered thoughts that kept slipping into mind today were an exception. Maybe your period was coming back. Or maybe that hot sun had melted away every bit of self-control you had left. 

“Ya might wanna hold on a bit tighter. It goes fast.” 

Your lungs constricted. Suddenly this felt wrong. Dangerous. 

“Wait— what about your shoulder? Should you be moving it—” 

“‘M movin’ it less sittin’ on this thing than off’a it.” 

“Well, shouldn’t we be wearing helmets or something?” 

The vibration of his laugh echoed through his back, which you were practically pressed up against. You might've cared more about his flippant attitude if he hadn’t reverberated a particularly soothing warmth back into you. 

“You chickenin’ out?” 

“No. I’m just remembering every motorcycle crash horror story my brother told me.” 

“He ride?” 

“God, no. He was an ER nurse.” 

“Well, we ain’t gonna crash.” Daryl rolled his shoulders back, and your grip tightened already. Nerves overcoming you. “Promise.” 

His confidence was reassuring. His firm body, even more so. 

“Alright then.” You nodded and the engine roared to life.  

Daryl’s feet lifted off the ground, landing on the rests just in front of yours. He found his balance quickly, even with you wrapped around his back. The pace was slow at first, a steady crawl that seemed overpowered by the loud rumble of that engine below. 

Then, when he finally passed the lot, he shot down the street. 

You couldn’t even guess how fast he was going. The world around you started to slip away, a lost frame of reference. The trees lining the road blurred into splatters of green and red, like a watercolour painting, and the wind rustled through those strands of hair that hadn't made it into your ponytail this morning. Racing through the breeze, that chill came back. Cold, little shards of air splintering across your face and hands.

The sudden bolt of movement made your stomach drop, that fluttering feeling of emptiness finding its spot. It reminded you of riding a rollercoaster as a kid, holding your brother’s hand tight and putting on a brave face as the big sister. It might’ve worked all those years ago, but you were pretty sure he’d be laughing at you now. You squeaked like a mouse, digging your face into the warm leather at Daryl’s back. The threading of his angel wings tickled your face alongside your wild hair, and you felt that familiar rumble in his chest again. 

“Ya alright?” He yelled back. 

You sucked in a fresh breath of air and peeked an eye open. It felt like the bravest peek in the world— the blurry, fast world. Though still huddled behind Daryl, with a vice grip around his steady waist, you were sure it didn’t appear very courageous to anyone else. 

“Fine!” You managed to reply, “I just didn’t expect that.” 

His gruff voice was harsher when he had to speak over that deafening engine. You barely made out his next sentence: “Want me to slow down?” 

You thought about it. But by the time you understood his offer, your eyes had opened completely, almost adjusted to the speed of the world around you. You even sat up properly, looking to your left as he raced past a strip of abandoned cars. That floating feeling inside your chest began to feel less dizzying, like Daryl’s waist was a tether to gravity as the bike ripped down the streets. He was always positioned firm and steady, like that beat of his heart you could feel against your cheek. You trusted him to keep you solid, even as the wind picked up. 

“No,” you practically squealed with a newfound excitement. “Keep going!” 

Much to your increasing delight, he kept that speed until you noticed a group of walkers at the end of the long-stretching road. He slowed down to turn, the joy and carefree adventure stained with reality, once again. The engine was loud. You glanced behind as Daryl bolted back through the street you’d just gone down, the blurry heads of the dead turning toward you in the distance. It’d been as good a sign as any to head back, with the gas slowly dwindling too. 

When you reached the car garage again, the bike crawled back through the lot, allowing you to finally take a deep breath and catch that fluttering feeling in your stomach. The bike paused and the engine turned off. The stark difference in noise was shocking— some time down that road you forgot just how loud the engine was, and just how quiet the rest of the Earth was nowadays. 

Daryl sat back, hands limply grasping the handlebars, head bowed to the beast of a motor below him. He seemed content from behind. Relaxed. 

You leaned around his shoulder. “End of the line?”

He seemed to snap back into focus then, glancing at you. 

“Gas is runnin’ low anyway.” 

You nodded, but added hopefully, “Maybe we can find more?” 

“We should use it for the car.” 

You sighed, “I know.”

The engine was still warm underneath your legs. Your disappointment was just as fresh. That could’ve been your first and only chance on the back of a bike, for all you knew. 

“Good first ride then?” 

“Are you kidding?” You laughed. “I get it now. Horror stories be damned.” 

He chuckled, even throwing you another glance back. But the second after your eyes met, his grin fell an inch. He turned his face away, too, and it hadn’t only taken a second longer for you to notice how close he was like this. You still wrapped around his back. 

“Ya gotta move so—” 

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, climbing off the bike. Trying to steady yourself on the ground was harder than you anticipated; your legs felt like jelly, already missing the smooth leather beneath you.

Your eyes caught on Daryl's vest as he also got off. 

In front of you. 

The bike balanced on its stand, Daryl on one side and you on the other. Something caught his attention, just above your eyes. 

“Ya got…” He gestured with a lazy hand around the top of his head. 

Your eyes went wide, hand flying up to the wild mess of your hair. 

You patted down a patch. “There?” 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, giving you the ghost of a smile.

You felt it again. Butterflies. 

Fuck. 

---

By the time you finished siphoning gas from the other cars, Daryl was done fixing the blue one. Throwing your few bags in the backseat, you climbed inside. You in the passenger seat, him behind the wheel. He liked to drive. It seemed to calm him, from that loose expression he wore. 

“We’ll keep drivin’ west, see wha’ we can find.” Daryl gripped the steering wheel with one hand. The other lingered by his mouth, thumb occasionally gnawed at. “Can siphon gas from the cars on the road. Hunt for food, sleep in the back.” 

“A home on wheels.” You rolled down the window as the car began to drift down the same streets you’d just sped through. The wind was softer than it had been on the bike. You already missed that terrifying, joyful freedom. 

There was another way you could chase it, you realized. You started to dig through the glove compartment. 

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” 

“CDs, hopefully.” 

His eyes flickered over you. Hair now brushed, let loose from that ponytail and tucked behind your ear as you leaned forward. The sun was still strong late into the afternoon, direct rays landing across the dashboard and reflecting onto you. It explained that glow you had. 

“God, I’d listen to anything at this point.” 

Daryl glanced over to the road, but his attention didn’t slip off you completely. 

It never seemed to, anymore. 

“Here.” You popped the cd from its case and rubbed it against the soft fabric of your sweater. “Can’t believe this is the only one. Who the hell owned this car?” 

Daryl’s lip twitched up at your soft snark. “You a music snob or somethin’?” 

“No.” You rolled your eyes. “I was just hoping for something better.” 

With one hand off the wheel, he clicked on the radio. Static rumbled from the speakers until he slid the dusty cd inside. The dark melody was slow, something that reminded him of those nights in the same run-down bar in the early nineties. A favourite of his uncle, then his brother, and while the pair of them served a stint in jail, Daryl’s. 

It was strange, feeling better off without your family by your side. But Daryl had all his life to get used to that thought. It wasn’t until he made his own family, then lost them, that he felt the opposite. He missed that group more than he could say, missed that feeling of purpose they gave him. 

Though, as the days rolled on, you were beginning to fill that ache in his chest, too. 

“Sure there’s nothin’ else in there?” 

You checked again, but it was mostly a polite gesture. There hadn’t been much in there, anyway. A pair of old gloves that you’d already stuffed in your bag, some tissue, the lone cd, and a brochure. 

“Only this.” You flickered through the pages of the sale brochure. It was for the development of a small community, units starting in the low three hundreds. The prospective opening date was off by a few years, though. You doubted they’d even broken ground before everything fell apart. 

“You really don’t like it?” 

“Ain’t exactly a fan,” he grumbled. There was a flash of disappointment across your face, caught in the corner of his eye. His frown lifted a bit. “’S fine, though. Ain’t a big deal, neither.” 

“What are you a fan of then?” You tossed the brochure back inside the box. “Now that we have a radio, next time I’m scavenging I’ll keep an eye out.” 

Daryl thought for a moment. “I dunno. Only really listened to what Merle liked.” 

You blinked, brows knitting a centimetre closer. 

“You spent a lot of time with him?” 

“When he was around.” 

Something stung in your chest. No, your heart. From the sparse details Daryl spared about his brother, Merle didn’t seem the reliable type. Every story he told was followed with stiffness. Those memories were distant and cold— the type of coolness that grew from hurt, not time. 

You knew to tread lightly. 

“What’d you guys do?” 

“Whatever.” Daryl shrugged. “Drank. Went huntin’. Nothin’ special.” 

“So you hunted even before this?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Merle taught you?” 

“My dad.”  

“Oh.” 

Daryl had never mentioned a parent before. Given the age gap, you’d assumed Merle had probably raised him a good chunk of his childhood. When he was around, anyway. 

That cold tone Daryl had for his brother extended to his father, also. A part of you wondered if that hurt had been deep, too. Maybe as deep as those scars on his back. 

It was an insensitive thought. Unfair. Daryl didn’t owe you anything, and he certainly didn’t deserve you stuffing your nose in his family’s business. 

“Do you like hunting?” 

“I liked the forest. Liked eatin’.” It was better than being home. “But I didn’t do it ‘cause I liked it. Was jus’ somethin’ I had to learn.”

With a nod, you went quiet. A softly contemplative look on your face. It piqued his interest, a flutter of nerves catching in his gut. 

“Why ya askin’?” 

“Just curious,” you answered. “You’re the only person I’ve had out here that didn’t jump at every snap of a branch.” 

“Well I got practice,” he said. “Stuck with a lotta city folk, then?” 

You turned back to him then, a sly smile hanging off your lips. “I’m city folk.” 

“Yeah, I figured.” 

You laughed, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?” 

“Cause you’re jumpy, too,” Daryl scoffed. “Scared’a your own damn shadow.” 

“I like the forest,” you defended with a slight pitch to your words. It made Daryl smirk, too. “I just don’t like how dark it can get. It’s freaky. I’ll never get used to it. Maybe all those bright city lights mess with your brain after all.” 

Daryl nodded, and he knew the moment had presented itself. The tone shifted a bit serious when he finally asked the question that’d be pressing him. 

“Atlanta, then?” 

“Briefly.” You nodded. “My brother and I were visiting before everything happened.” 

“Heard it was bad there.” 

It was. It’d taken a long time to stop waking up in a sweat with memories of that night. 

Still, you shrugged. “It was bad everywhere.” 

“Yeah, but they weren’t droppin’ bombs everywhere.” 

“I got out before that.” 

Good timing.

“We were only there for two weeks. If the trip had been a month later, or earlier, we wouldn’t have been anywhere close to Georgia when this thing hit.” 

Daryl felt something fester in his gut. Anxiety? That distant, non-existent what-if made him shift in his seat. He could feel it looking over your side profile— the curve of your nose and lips, the soft flutter of eyelashes— and it hit him like that bullet had. Fast. 

It was true. You’d grown on him. He cared. 

“You’re not from Georgia?” 

You shook your head. “Nope.” 

“Explains the accent.” 

“Or lack thereof,” you countered. “I like yours though. It's charming.” 

Daryl scoffed, and you gave him a look. 

“What? I’m being serious. You have a nice voice.” 

A pretty shade of light pink scattered across his cheeks. You couldn’t help that loose smile you wore. It was nice to make him nervous, for once. Of course, you weren’t about to rub it in his face. You glanced away, eyes caught in the fast shades of green, orange, and red passing by the window. 

“What about you? Where were you at the start?” 

Daryl cleared his throat. “Same place I’d always been. Hometown.” 

“You never left?” 

“Nah.” 

“Not even for college or…” 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he tried not to side-eye your reaction when he finally muttered, “Didn’t go.” 

Though that part of him that held all those pessimistic, self-doubts was a strong force to be reckoned with. He didn’t need to prove himself— never cared to before— but now here he was, sitting with that gnawing feeling in his gut, wanting to. 

And yet, you barely even shrugged. 

“I almost didn’t go, either,” you said nonchalantly, eyes running over the back of the CD case. “You ever wish you had, though?” 

“Nah.” 

“Fair enough. I think you could’ve been good at it, though. You’re very…” 

Daryl waited, brow hitched as you hummed. 

“Intuitive.” You’d decided. “You know, you have good instincts. Sometimes it feels like you know what’s gonna happen before it does.” 

He sat with those words a moment, then offered one of his own: “Observant.” 

“Yeah, exactly. Maybe you could’ve been a lawyer… Or a cop.” 

“Nah,” Daryl huffed. “Cops ’n I never got along well.” 

“No?” You teased. “You used to get into trouble, Dixon?” 

“Merle did. Guess I tagged along for the ride.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I was a dumbass.” 

“You being a dumbass— that’s hard to imagine.” 

“I didn’t have to,” he quipped. 

You smiled at the easy wit that always just seemed to flow from him. 

“So you didn’t leave town before this?” 

“Not really. Never even left Georgia.” 

“Seriously?” 

He shook his head. 

“Well, maybe after we pick up your friends we can go on a road trip.” 

Daryl gave you a look. It was questioning, sure, but gentle. “Plannin’ on stickin’ around then?” 

“Well, I uh…” you paused. Curiously, you hadn’t thought about it much. Since those initially tense first days together, the possibility of parting ways with Daryl, not because of a feverish worry or a herd, but because your shared journey had reached an end, hadn’t come to mind often. The two of you hadn’t been together long, but you’d already been through a lot. Patching the other up, too many close calls to count, sharing what little supplies you had… just to say ‘see ya!’ after everything felt wrong. Incomplete. 

“If you’d let me. I don’t really have anywhere else to go— anyone else.” 

“Alright.” Daryl nodded. 

It was a short acknowledgement. A single word. It still made you smile. 

Daryl wasn’t like most people. He was forgiving and insightful. He let you live when you probably deserved to die because he wasn’t like most people. All you knew about the others was that they’d earned Daryl’s loyalty at some point, and made their own way into his sentiment, too. If he trusted them, you hoped that meant you could too. 

Hoped. 

Worry crept back in. Maybe the others wouldn’t want you there. The stain of the prison could’ve been enough to taint your reputation, completely, even if Daryl vouched for you. And, if it came down to it, choosing between you and them, there was no doubt in your mind. He wouldn’t pick the girl he knew for a couple of weeks over his real family. 

It poured out faster than you meant. Words slipped, mumbled and stuttered, “You think they might— might wanna kill me? Or, I don’t know, cut me loose?” 

“Tha’ ain’t gonna happen.” Daryl watched the road. “They’re good people. Like you.” 

The weight of worry lifted off your chest again. He had a talent for that. 

You smiled. 

Good people. 

You tried to hide the flush at your cheeks and chest, glancing out the window. “How’d you find them anyway?” 

“At the start, Merle ’n I were in the middle’a huntin’. Didn’t even know ‘bout the walkers until I found one out there, ’n it tried to take a bite outta me.” 

“Shit,” you hissed. 

“Douchebag was all over me. Smelt somethin’ awful. I started yellin’, screamin’ at the thing. Punchin’ him. He jus’ kept coming, then Merle shot it.” He scoffed, “Thought I was ‘bout to serve hard time for murder, till Merle said he’d heard something on the truck’s radio ‘bout dead bastards comin’ back to life. We left for Atlanta after tha’.” 

“Refugee camps?” 

“Never made it. That was when we found the others on the road. We stayed up by a quarry for a while. It wasn’t safe, so we kept movin’, till we found the prison. ‘Bout a year ago.” 

“You stayed there a year?” 

Daryl nodded. “We lost a lot gettin’ there. Made somethin’ of it, though.” 

“I didn’t think anything like that could be real.” You shook your head. 

He met your look. It’d gone from smiling to serious in a few sentences. That slight bite at your lip, a quiver in your brow. 

“It was," he said.

“Do you think you could ever have that again?” 

Of course, he’d thought about it. Even if he tried not to, those memories of the prison and the community they built from a grey, desolate building— a prison— were overwhelming. It was the first time in maybe his whole life that he felt a purpose. People didn’t just depend on him. They accepted him. They liked him. 

He stole another look at you. That bloom of familiarity was deep in his chest, again. 

“Maybe.” 

---

Another hour passed. The sun was softer, a cold breeze shifting through that open window until you finally rolled it back up. You still stared outside, watching the trees slip by.

Daryl had traced the backroads back to the main road leaving the prison, and you’d been travelling west since. The same way he’d seen the bus go. It seemed strange that they hadn’t come up with an official rendezvous spot, just a last chance at loading on that bus together. But maybe a more detailed plan would’ve been useless anyway; places didn’t last long, nowadays. 

The car rolled to a stop. Your head lulled to face forward, finding a slight ache in your neck when you finally tore your eyes away from the window. A question sat at the tip of your tongue, about to slip when your eyes landed on the answer. 

Instead, you gasped, “Oh my God.” 

There, sitting in the road, was the bus. 

Splatters of blood painted the siding. A dozen or so bodies sprawled by the back door. Some were piled on top of each other, limbs mixed. Others lay alone. All of them had turned before they were put down for good. 

You could just tell. 

From the corner of your eye, you noticed his white-knuckle grip around the steering wheel. The veins in his hands popped out, muscle turned into stone, and there was no use in glancing up at him; you already knew that look of pain— despair— he had. Could practically feel him begin to bottle up every word, emotion, or care. 

You were the first one to exit the car. 

Goosebumps broke out on your skin as a cold breeze took hold. That chill sunk into your skin with the sound of the second door opening, and something stiff and heavy clouded behind you. 

It was coming from him. You knew that already. It made that pit of dread in your gut even heavier. 

Was it fury he was feeling? Grief? 

Even when you finally did glance back at him, lingering by the car's side, you still couldn’t say for sure. That glossy look in his eye was certainly bitter. Tense with emotion that you knew he was fighting to reign in. It left him with a dark glare as he stared at the dead faces of his people— the only ones he’d known for sure got out. He had practice keeping that type of anger silent. Not the one that made you punch some asshole at the bar, but the type that was born out of misery and regret. 

He’d been abrasive at the cabin. Then softer after the pharmacy. Even strained in the cottage, with you tending to his back. But he’d never forced himself numb before, not like this. You could tell he was holding back. A guttural scream, you thought, from the tension in his neck and that vein threatening to pop out where a swollen bump had been a few days prior. 

But his lips drew shut in a taut line, and he was quieter than the rustle of the trees. 

It made your stomach knot. Though, you were sure it was no worse than what he might have been feeling— if he'd let himself. His only lead: bloody, dead, and rotting in the middle of the road. If you’d kept driving, the tires would’ve ripped through decaying muscle and crushed bone. 

It wasn’t fair. 

The gas station. His wounds. The bus. These people, lying like trash on the road. No more significant than the withering leaves beside them. 

There wasn’t the time, nor the energy, to spend digging graves. But you dragged each limp body, one by one, to the side of the road. Right where the grass bled into the concrete, they laid. 

Sometime around the third body, Daryl began to help. He picked up the opposite limb with his good arm, then eventually his bad one too. 

Nothing but that gloss across his eye to tell you these people meant anything to him. He was retreating by the second. Crawling back into that ugly pit of animosity and cynicism that always seemed to have a spot waiting for him. Each body you moved reaffirmed it. Pushed him deeper as hollow eyes fell on the cold faces of the people he cared about. He fed. He protected. 

Or, tried to. 

It was never enough. 

-> part 9

A/N: so much happened in this part I mean... reader finally realizing she might have a lil crush on him... the bike ride... the car conversation... THE BUS

anyway. back to our regular scheduled bad shit happening to our fav fictional characters. if u have any predictions or thoughts, lmk :p

FYI: I'm expecting to miss next weeks posting. I have too much to do with exams, sorry! after that ill be graduated so lots of free time coming up lol.

if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3

[slippinmickeys]

Prompt:

Mulder & Scully vacation Christmas/Hanukah at the Quonochontaug cabin post season 11

I got such wonderful prompts right before Christmas, and I was halfway through several of them when my kiddo ended up in the ER with the flu, and then my family and I all succumbed one by one. We’re finally at full strength, and I hope to fill each prompt you all sent at some point. Hopefully this festive one isn’t too late to enjoy.

Scully looked up at the constellations rising up above the line of the house’s roof, Orion standing just along the edge of the ridge cap, shooting his arrow into the onyx horizon. The Anishinaabe called him ‘The Wintermaker,’ and on this, the solstice, the longest night of the year, she could feel the chill he brought with him. She shivered, and pulled up the neck of her coat.

“Sorry,” Mulder apologized from below the lintel. “The lock’s pretty sticky. Hasn’t been opened in a while.”

“Wasn’t the caretaker supposed to get here before us and turn on the heat?”

“The ‘caretaker,’” Mulder said on a grunt as he pushed his shoulder into the now unlocked, water-swollen door, “is an eighteen year old kid still in high school. I think we’re lucky the place is even still standing.”

The darkened maw of the summer home stood open before them, and Scully, having only been into the house twenty years before with the whole of the Kingstown police department at her back, took a hesitant step inside.

“This is a summer town, Mulder,” she said, looking around dubiously as Mulder felt around the wall for the light switch. “Don’t they have a service you can employ?”

“‘Summer’ being the operative word,” he replied on a click, flooding the room with light. “In the dead of winter, the Quonochontaug labor pool isn’t exactly flush with candidates. I think we’ll be lucky if the trash bin isn’t full of empty Stoli bottles and dead soldiers.”

Scully made a face of distaste.

“Ah,” he said, blinking into the sudden brightness. “Actually looks pretty good in here. And I think the heat is on. Maybe I should give Logan a raise.”

Mood brightened, Mulder’s eyes rove around the room, all knotty pine paneling and 70’s decor. He reached out and ran a hand down her arm, smiling.

“Why don’t you take a seat,” he said, leading her over to an avocado green davenport. “Put up your feet. I’ll bring in the bags.”

“I’m pregnant, Mulder,” she said, rubbing a hand over the swell of her stomach. “Not incapacitated.”

He gave her a sheepish grin.

“Still,” he said, and she capitulated. It’s not like they had all that much luggage. She wasn’t comfortable flying in the third trimester, and so she eschewed her usual trip to San Diego to do Christmas with what remained of the Scully clan. Mulder had suggested spending the holiday at the house in Rhode Island and here they were, alone for a week in the dead of winter in a summer house.

“When was the last time you stayed here?” she asked, wrinkling her sensitive nose at the smell of dust, of mildew.

One suitcase on the floor at his feet, one still in his hand, Mulder closed the door behind him, his face ponderous. “Overnight?” he clarified. “I think I was nineteen?”

She imagined Mulder just before twenty, lifeguarding on the local beach by day. He’d have ropey muscles, suntanned skin—all the energy of youth, the metabolism of a racehorse. She preferred the thicker, more mature version before her, though his hairline was thinning and his knees ached at night; the version of him who lit candles for her in a church.

In the linen closet, they found flaxen pouches filled with brittle lavender tucked amongst the sheets, and they made the queen-sized bed in the back bedroom, the eiderdown quilt puffing up nicely with a few vigorous shakes.

Once settled—pajamas donned, teeth brushed, Scully found she didn’t have to move far in the bed to settle into Mulder’s side, the round of her stomach resting on his belly, her leg thrown over his. She’d barely be able to roll over without falling off, and she was pretty certain Mulder’s feet were hanging about four inches off the end.

“Your parents fit in this bed?” she asked him dubiously. “Both of them?”

He pet her hair, pressed a kiss into it. “It was a different time.”

Scully thought back to those sepia toned days and pictured the Mulder family summering here; the sliding door open to the Sound, the Eagles on the radio, cigarettes hanging out of everyone’s mouth. She saw Samantha on the beach in pigtails, Mulder reading a pulp novel in an Adirondack. There would have been Tupperware jugs of lemonade on the picnic table outside, the commodore of the yacht club dropping by for a gin and tonic.

She sighed. It was indeed a different time. Nowadays, puddles didn’t freeze in December and Fox was the only Mulder left.

She rubbed her stomach gently. Maybe not the last.

He shifted his arm until it was more comfortably under her neck and sighed into the crown of her head.

“I thought we could go get you a Christmas tree tomorrow,” he said. “There’s a farm nearby where you can cut your own.”

The idea sounded eye-wateringly quaint.

“We don’t have ornaments,” she pointed out, picturing a plain green tree taking up a corner of the small living room. She wasn’t really fighting the concept, merely tempering his expectations.

“We can get lights at the drugstore. We’ll make popcorn strings or something,” he mumbled. “I’m sure there’s some fishing line in the garage.”

The corner of the living room took on a cheerful air in Scully’s imagination, a small tree with bright white lights, a jaunty fire popping under the mantle. The smell of fresh pine would do wonders for the stale air.

“Sounds nice,” she smiled.

Mulder gave her a happy squeeze.

“I’ll get up early and pick up groceries,” he said with rising enthusiasm. “Hot cocoa and eggnog. Maybe some sparkling grape juice for you and the little one for New Years?”

It was sweet how hard he was trying.

“We may need something other than beverages,” she said pragmatically.

“Pancake mix,” he went on, his exuberance not waning in the least. “Or oh, how about those cinnamon rolls in a can?”

“Perfect,” she said, chuckling. Her eyes were getting scratchy with fatigue.

Mulder sighed happily, squeezed her again, probably assembling a grocery list in his head.

Silence settled over them and Scully could hear the surf crashing into the shore, the wind buffeting the eaves. The sounds were cold, but her thoughts were warm, and as her body drifted toward sleep, she pictured Mulder holding up a small child to put a listing star on the top of a tree, Mulder walking a toddler through the dune grasses, pudgy fingers gently clasped in the bowls of his hands. She imagined filling this old house with happier memories than it had seen in years.

“Hey Mulder,” she said, her voice slurry with lassitude.

“Mm?” he hummed.

“Get real champagne for New Years,” she said, wanting to toast this second chance. “We can handle half a glass.”