#?fanfic issue

[watcher0033]

Y’all, the Archive admins are made up of VOLUNTEERS. And they have been working for 12-13 HOURS STRAIGHT.

I better not hear any complaints when donation period comes around. OR ELSE.

cosplay by @woahchriswoah on Twitter

EDIT: How do we show appreciation to the volunteers? For me reading these deep dives on OTW issues u guys apparently it's been said multiple times that one of their objective statements is to have paid staff for ao3 and there's a surplus of donations they haven't used up or the other community solutions that needs to address. For those more financially literate feel free to analyze, snipe me or add to the discussion etc. linked here by deepa. They’re cool and these yearly analysis they did aint no joke.

But Seriously what can we do for these volunteers? The probable burn out from this entire fiasco would be no joke. @ao3org

[mv1simp]

Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

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

A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you well. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

[buntanteen]

bestie fwb!mingyu headcanons (nsfw)

summary: kim mingyu and reader's bestie fwb dynamic headcanons :3

contains: 18+ nsfw writing so mdni!! implications that reader is smaller than gyu

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

bestie!minyu who is just a poor puppy not catching a break from anyone 😔 especially from you lmao. you're one of his biggest supporters but also biggest teasers. post-concert, you'll be imitating how he's trying to make carats swoon with his charms (the both of you know how proud you are of him <3 you just love seeing him pouty) 

bestie!mingyu who lets you use his chest as a stress balls. you once said "honk honk" while squeezing them and got your mingyu tiddies card revoked for a week😢

during bestie!mingyu’s night dance practices to finish, he'll come whine to you that "jeonghan hyung is being mean🥺" or complain about whichever member is pulling jokes on him. he should've known better that you’d be riling him right with them 🥰

fwb!mingyu who comes home to bury his face in your chest after a long day. you think he's knocked out...only for him to start licking, nipping and sucking marks onto your skin :3

bestie!mingyu who will always provide you delicious meals😌😌 is constantly cooking you a something when you come over and has deemed you his official taste tester! if you insist to cook alongside him, he'll refuse. he might let you peel the veggies tho <3

when you go out to eat, bestie!mingyu will always insists on picking up the cheque. since you get pouty about him not letting you pay, he lets u buy the dessert at the convenience stores or cute lil cafes as a compromise

bestie!mingyu who always asks you to take pretty boyfriend pics of him for his carats🥹 ofc you oblige, loving to see his fans fawn over new pictures that you so carefully asking him to pose for  

fwb!mingyu who begs to eat you out and hits you his 🥺 puppy eyes so you to let him (you were going to anyways)

bestie!mingyu who comes to you for relaxation or advice when he's stressed out of his mind. he lets you pamper him with gentle touches and soothe away his worries with sweet words. you tuck him into your bed so he rests well to tackle the next day😊

feeling safe enough to initiate touch with bestie!mingyu :) he gives as many piggy backs as you desire as long as you let him bite his fangs into your arm when he's bored 🥰 sits you in his lap in crowded group hangouts. you've insisted that he sit in yours too, but your legs became numb after 5 minutes😭😭

good puppy fwb!mingyu whimpering pleads against your neck or between your legs for you give him permission to cum while he ruts against the bed sheets 🥺

always having sleepovers with bestie!mingyu. atp you could be another roommate to the minwon household for how often you're just vibing at their place when they arrive home

fwb!mingyu who got caught sniffing your underwear post sex when you went to get him water. you end up stroking his hair with his head in your lap, jerking him off with your underwear around his cock...but you leave him blue balled as a punishment <3 "oh! i'm late to work, see you later after your tour?😘”

while he's on tour, fwb!mingyu won't have phone sex with you, but leaves you voice notes of the pretty noises he makes jerking off as payback <3

ames note: hi hi! this is my first time writing wooooo~ this was definitely self indulgent😅 i just wanna be friends with mingyu! he seems like the most fun guy to hang out with...and to get dicked down by lmao. i hope y'all enjoyed it and are doing well!! i tried for something gender neutral but i'm not sure if i achieved it? feel free to kindly give feedback <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[eightcure]

more danny phantom sketches to fill the danny phantom shaped hole in my heart 💔

I should stop posting at odd hours of the morning (I will not) (ignore the weird anatomy it was not my focus atm)

[roughlytwentytwofrogs]

There is an issue in this community with misstagged fics on AO3, specifically in the FxF tags. I don't know if it's going to reach the actual people or not but I'm still going to put this here:

A lot of MxM and FxM are tagging FxF ships in the main relationship category despite the ship itself only being written in the background.

Which is a problem because when you go into your ship tag to find fics of your ship, a ridiculous amount of them are off topic. And while yes you can lower that amount significantly by filtering and tag exclusion, AO3 has a built in feature that is made to avoid this.

I am going to use the Shadowzel tag for that because it's the most popular FxF ship on there and it's also one of the most misstagged rn. As of right now, there is 607 fics in the Shadowzel tag without filter. If you restrict the search to only include FxF, you are down to 397 fics. That is more than a third gone!

And it gets rid of some shadowzel content as well, so it's either you filter that out or you have to scroll through a tag where 1 out of 3 fics are about Astarion, Gale, Halsin, etc instead of the ship you looked up.

If your fic, let's take for example a Tav x Astarion, has either consistent mention of Shadowheart x Lae'zel, the most popular wlw ship, or has them in the background as support characters, or even just mentions them as a funny little wink and you want to make sure your readers know they are in here, you do not use the relationship tag! You go down to the additional tags and add "Minor Lae'zel/Shadowheart (Baldur's Gate)".

Unless the pairing you are tagging is the main focus or have a significant role and spotlight on them, you should not use the relationship tag! It clogs the feed for no reason, AO3 is not a website where you have to advertise your posts to the most tags possible.

Adding a visual for clarity:

[twotangledsisters]

A quick reminder that fanfics shouldn't be reposted anywhere ever unless you have the express permission of the author.

You want to translate a fic? Awesome, ask!

You want to make a podfic? Amazing, ask!

But it's disrespectful to an author to take their content and repost without telling them, EVEN if you did transformative work on it.

Yes, fanfics are free, and on ao3 they are even downloadable, but they are downloadable for private use! For you to have on your kindle and read in whatever format best suits you. Not to be REPOSTED on another site!

Please, please, if you want authors to continue posting stories publically you have to respect an author's desire to maintain some level of ownership over their work.

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Went To The County Fair”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, frenemies dynamic, emetophobics be cautious (no one actually gets sick it’s just mentioned), Sukuna is trying so hard to be nice

Word Count: 2.89k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always tries to give off the vibe that he’s too big and bad for anything. Everything is beneath him, everyone is merely a nuisance, and this Ferris wheel in particular is just too bland and boring for his tastes.

He acts like you held a gun to his head and forced him to come with you to the fair, but you really didn’t; if anything he forced you to let him tag along. You just happened to see a flyer in the mailbox and brought up that you were planning to go and he could tag along if he wanted to, the last thing you expected was for him to immediately start lacing up his boots and stuff his wallet into the pocket of his ripped black jeans, asking you a nonchalant “You ready?” not even a minute after you suggested it.

And now here you are, a decent train ride later and you’re at the top of the Ferris wheel sitting across from each other, looking down at the colorful lights of food stalls and amusement rides below you. You wanted to go on the Ferris wheel first since the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as a gentle breeze chills the evening air.

Sukuna’s gruff and uninterested voice breaks the peaceful silence, “You could’ve looked out the window at home for free.”

You’re scooted to the edge of your little cart, elbows perched on the rusty metal railing and your cheek rested on your palm, looking longingly between the colorful lights of the roller coasters down below and the changing hues of the sky, “The view’s not this pretty at home.”

All he can respond with is a hum, his arms stretched out across the railing behind him as he leans his back against the hard metal wall of the gently swinging cart. From the corner of your eye you’d swear you could see him watching you, but when you shift your gaze towards him his head has already turned to look down towards the carnival beneath you.

He outstretches his arm and points toward one of the rides, colorful lights spotted around the outside of its spaceship style design begin to transform into streams of light as the ride starts to spin and twirl around, “We’re doing that one next, too fuckin’ boring just sitting around.”

You turn your body towards him and give him a sarcastic grin, “What if all the spinning makes me sick?”

He scoffs, gently kicking your leg across from him with his combat boot, “If you throw up I’m pretending that I don’t know you.”

“Boo.” You roll your eyes at him and look back towards the fair as the Ferris wheel begins to spin. You reach your arm out of the cart and point at a ride in the distance, a large boat shaped contraption swinging back and forth before turning completely upside down, the passengers' screams echoing through the open air, “Would you go on that one?”

He gives you a sly grin, “Only if you go on it too, you didn't drag me along just to watch, did you?”

“I didn’t drag you here, you might as well have begged to come with me.”

“Oh fuckin’ please,” He leans towards you, propping his elbows on his knees and looking up at you, “You gave me those ‘lil puppy dog eyes when you showed me the flyer.” He mimics a dramatic pout, making you groan and press your sneaker onto his chest to push him away.

“You’re unbearable.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The metal steps creak below both of your feet as you and Sukuna step into the spaceship ride; the walls are round and covered in separate metal panels for each person to stand with their back against, and in the middle of the ride there’s a booth for the operator with large buttons and levers. You and Sukuna find two open panels on the wall and stand in front of them as the doors to the ride slide shut, leaving you both and everyone else blocked off from the festivities going on outside.

The operator looks bored as they flip a switch above their head, the lights dying off before you hear the clicking sound of buttons being pushed, rainbow lights streaming along the ceiling in swirling patterns above your head. Blaring loud techno music starts to blast from massive speakers in the operator’s booth as you feel your balance start to waver. Within seconds everyone’s backs are slammed into the wall, fits of giggles and startled screams surrounding you in the ride.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna and he’s already grinning at you, he tries to yell something to you but the music is far too loud to hear him. You open your mouth to yell “What?!” but instead a yelp is ripped from your chest as your entire body slides up the wall. He points up towards you and laughs, you try to kick him in the shoulder but the pressure of the ride spinning is keeping you effectively plastered to the wall, hardly able to move at all.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is somehow barely affected by it; deciding that it’s time to show off as he plants his palms onto the wall behind him and bends his knees to be completely off the ground. He stumbles back slightly on his first attempt to push himself up, but by the second try he’s crouching completely upright on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream out to him, but he can hardly hear you over the loud music and playful screams of everyone on the ride.

He’s got a massive grin plastered on his face as he stands to his full height so casually, as if the pressure of gravity just doesn’t affect him, taking a broad step over your stiff body to stand with his large combat boots on either side of your hips. He takes a knee over you, wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck and the other behind the small of your back, leaning forward and yelling into your ear.

“You’re coming with me.”

It feels like you’re going to fly back into the wall as he pulls you into his arms, his strong grip keeping your body flush against his as you try to raise your arms enough to wrap them around his neck.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

You can feel his breathy laughter on the crook of your neck as he lifts you up to stand with him on the wall, his hands never loosening their protective grip on you even as your feet plant themselves on the wall. He’s holding you so close, you’re not sure if your head is spinning more from him or the carnival ride. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, your head pressed flush against his broad chest and tilted up towards the flickering lights adorning the ceiling.

“Not so bad, see?” You can hear the grin in his voice, his lips brushing against your ear while he speaks to you, “Not gonna drop you, calm down.”

Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?

The pressure in your head starts to feel relieved, but at the cost of your balance as you stumble forward. Sukuna completely wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet, taking long strides backwards off the wall and back onto the floor as the ride slows to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” The operator is screaming over the music as the large doors slide back open, “You two! Off!”

Sukuna chuckles into your ear as he drops you onto your feet, “Oops.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I can’t take you anywhere-“

“Ugh, how was I supposed to know that guy would be such a pussy?”

“Sukuna!” You slap his arm, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

He just huffs and rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as you both walk side by side through the fair. You knew he was nothing but trouble, and you feel a little stupid for assuming he wouldn’t drag you down into his bullshit with him, but you’re stuck with him now; at least until your lease is up. Maybe you shouldn’t invite him out with you anywhere after this, but when you glance up at his stupid grumpy expression you get butterflies.

With a face like that it’s no wonder he gets away with anything.

He’s so… annoying. That’s what you like to tell yourself; it’s annoying that you can’t stay mad at him, that he gives you that smirk that makes your heart race, that he held you like that on the carnival ride. He drives you insane in all the best and worst ways, either waking you up in the middle of the night by being loud and obnoxious coming home drunk from a concert, or making you go crazy wishing he was home with you while he was out with his friends.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” He snaps you out of your trance.

“No.” You huff, breaking your gaze from his. Did you doze off while staring at him?

“Brat,” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you towards a pop up stall, the stall walls lined with balloons and stuffed animals, “You beat me in this and I’ll… behave for the next one.”

You scoff at him, “No you won’t.”

A small smile creeps onto the corners of his lips, “… Yeah you’re right.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, but he sidesteps in front of you, leaning down to match your height, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He smirks, “Winner picks out a tattoo for the loser.”

You laugh right in his face, “Absolutely fucking not!”

“What?” He gives you an exaggerated pout, “You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms and glare up at him, “You would make me get some kind of gang tattoo.” You say sarcastically.

He mutters under his breath, “Shit, am I that predictable?”

“Sukuna!” You kick him in the shin.

“Fine, fine. Piercing.”

You look over at the plastic machine guns mounted onto the edge of the stall, noting a toppled over “out of order” sign next to the red gun. Maybe it’s a bad idea to humor him, but you know damn well he’d pick that red gun over the baby pink ones surrounding it, you might be able to play dirty if he hasn’t noticed the sign that fell over.

A grin paints your lips as you look back at him, “You’re on.”

His head cocks to the side slightly, “Really?” He looks genuinely surprised, but definitely not disappointed, “Shit, that was easy.”

He strides over to the stall, planting himself right in front of the red gun, exactly where you want him. You suppress your smile as much as you can as you walk up beside him, wrapping your finger around the trigger of the pink gun next to him. He’s looking down at you so cocky as the game attendant counts down for you both to start.

“Three!”

“You know…” He leans down towards you to speak into your ear.

“Two!”

“I know a guy who does eyelid piercings.” He states smugly.

“One!”

Like clockwork, you start peppering through the balloons while his gun immediately jams.

His brows furrow in frustration and you look towards him, giving him a mischievous smirk, “You’ll have to give me his number.”

As the game comes to a fast end, you learn that Sukuna is such a sore loser, grumbling about how that was “fucking rigged” and that you’re “a dirty little cheater,” but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You doubt he’ll hold up his end of the bet, and you’re not really that concerned about it to be honest, that frustrated look on his face is more than enough of a prize.

“Yeah yeah,” You giggle, “I’m just the worst huh? I’m gonna run to the bathroom, how about you win me something while I’m gone?”

He shoots a glare down at you, “No promises.”

“Oh yeah, because you fucking suck at these games, right?” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face, you just can’t help but smile, it’s a nice change of pace for you to be the one getting on his nerves for once.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Something about Sukuna is suspicious when you meet him back at the games. His grin has returned once again and he’s holding one of his hands behind his back. His eyes light up when they catch yours, taking long strides to meet with you.

He leans down to be eye level with you, keeping his hand tucked away behind him, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t…” You look up to his eyes but his gaze flickers away from you.

“Shut up. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

You let out a sigh, shutting your eyes and holding your hand out in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as something cold and squishy lands in your palm, “What the fuck…?”

“You know how you said you wanted a pet?”

You open your eyes and are greeted with… a goldfish. A little tied off plastic baggie dripping condensation onto your skin as the tiny fish swims in panicked circles, “Sukuna!”

“What?” He stands up straight, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I thought you’d like it.”

“When I said I wanted a pet I meant, like, a dog!”

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, “Well you won’t let me get a cane corso, so-“

“Because they’re a hundred and fifty pounds.” You mutter over him.

“Say hello to Brat Junior.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He’s definitely not kidding if the grin on his face is saying anything, he takes a step forward and pokes the bag, watching the fish squirm inside, “He’s got your attitude.”

“Oh my god,” You rub your temple with your free hand, “We need to go get a fish tank.”

“We’ve got bowls at the house.”

“No! We are not mistreating this fish, asshole.”

“Don’t call him fish, he has a name.” He declares sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mutter curses under your breath, “Brat Junior needs a tank. A real tank, with a filter.” You pull Sukuna by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along behind you, “There’s a pet store around the corner, let’s go before they close. And you’re paying.”

“Hey, why am I paying for this shit? It’s your pet.”

“It was your stupid idea!”

You both leave the loud chaos of the fair, walking along the quiet sidewalks to the pet store. The skies have gone dark now, the moon making itself at home above you as you cradle your beloved Brat Junior in both of your palms, trying to keep the water in his bag from swaying too much.

You and Sukuna bicker the whole walk there until you make it to the sliding glass doors of the pet store, quiet music playing through the speakers as you walk across the shiny white floors to the fish section. You both split up so he can pick up a tank while you sort through food, but shortly after he walked away he’s already making his way back to you.

“We’re gonna have to flush Brat Junior.” He says plainly.

You defensively clutch the fish close to your chest, “Absolutely not!”

He rests his elbow on one of the shelves lining the wall, leaning his side against it, “Then you’re paying for half of the fish tank.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “You broke now?”

“Lady at the counter said he’ll get,” He straightens his fingers on each hand, placing them together like a prayer before parting them about a foot away from each other, “This big.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wish I was joking, the tank is $600.”

You blow a raspberry, slumping your back against the wall and looking down at the goldfish in your palms. You’re silent for a moment, but then you let out a reluctant sigh, “I’ll pay half, but you’re carrying it on the train ride home.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hold your apartment door open, watching Sukuna maneuver the giant 40 gallon fish tank through the small doorway, “Got it?”

He grunts in annoyance, “A little help would be nice.”

“Ooh, about that,” You hold the little plastic baggie up in your palm, “My hands are full with the baby.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, carrying the fish tank into the tiny apartment, “Should’ve fuckin’ flushed him.”

You let out a mock gasp, cupping the goldfish in both of your hands and holding it up to your face, cooing at it, “Did you hear that? Your father doesn’t love you.”

Sukuna placed the tank onto a long empty table against the wall before flopping on his back onto the couch. His eyes flicker between you and the fish for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his lips.

“I knew you’d like that little fucker.”

A/N: Fun fact did u know that those fair fish grow to be 12 inches long? Unfortunately this fic is based on true events of when my boyfriend and I won TWO OF THEM at the fair and had to spend $600 on a fish tank for them (rip my wallet). Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[onsomenewsht]

Took a loan on a house I own

About when she panics and you’re very patient, but out of t-shirts

《 shout out to @p0orbaby, who turned this shit around and back on the fun side of the road

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: 3k

》 commitment [noun, law]: a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus

“Accept the Arsenal deal”, your agent encourages, his client’s best interests – and transfer fee – close to his heart.

“At least it’s not Manchester”, your father comments, still wishing for your comeback as saviour of your hometown club.

“What can go wrong?”, your childhood friends resonate with sincere smiles and rolling eyes at your unjustified hesitation.

Turns out, signing for the Gunners puts you in the Ballon d’Or shortlist after the first season and Leah Williamson in your bedroom.

One night you two are sharing a ride after a shameful celebration, you’re way too drunk to even remember how to walk in a straight line and she finds herself thinking way too much about your carefree giggles – if anyone asks, she just wants to make sure you don’t get kidnapped or fall on your pretty face tripping over nothing.

The following day she’s still in your house, wearing your clothes and sharing questionable stories of failed dates just to hear you laugh.

A week after she’s in your bed again, this time naked and cracking up at the worst jokes you got.

It’s not like you planned such development in the relationship with the skipper or tried to win her over with infallible pickup lines, it just happened.

Not that you’re complaining now.

Another season ends, but you keep finding each other in compromising positions at the worst possible moments, avoiding friends and teammates teasing comments with really not much effort.

Her mother, the wiser when it comes to Leah’s debatable life choices, asks about you all the time and went as far as personally inviting you over for Christmas. You declined, obviously, but made sure the Williamson family received your presents.

Your best friend demanded to have a private conversation with the blonde the first time he visited, probably embarrassing you with made-up memories and pointless threats. She took it all more seriously than needed, teaming up with him at your expense by the end of the night.

“Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow to sleep in?”

A sense of domesticity fills every interaction with the English woman nowadays, feelings you’re way too pleased to indulge but even more scared to address.

Knowing her, like a stray cat enjoying the sun and the offered food, a too-close approach or unexpected movement could provoke a runaway.

You move your eyes from the laptop slowly, taking in her freshly showered body and the wet blonde locks dropping water on the floor. She knows you hate that.

“Top drawer on your left, dry your hair before going to bed”

“What do you have against air drying?”

“What do you have against respecting my silk sheets?”

When she misses the opportunity to quip back, like she always does when your sleeping habits are mentioned, you give up any chance of reviewing the last away game to find Leah cautiously studying the furniture.

“Why are my clothes here?”

“Would you prefer to have them lying around the apartment?”

“It’s a lot of clothes”, she states, digging through all the tops and shorts and even some designer pieces stocked in the drawer.

It’s not really that much, honestly.

“You leave behind a lot of shit”

That makes the younger girl react, recovering from the shock of her things being carefully folded somewhere other than her closet – and occasionally a strategically placed chair in her room.

The cat is bothered.

Closing the laptop, you rise from the bed to slowly approach her. Cautiously.

“I just don’t understand why you put my clothes in your drawer”

“You have a lot of things here and I quite like the idea of a clean place”

“That’s not true! I–”, she fumbles for the right words to explain herself in her own mind.

You guide the blonde to the bed, sitting her down like you’d do to explain to a kid that Santa looked a lot like their overweight uncle because was, indeed, their overweight uncle; or that no, they can’t walk the dog for the last journey to Heaven.

The next words are going to be crucial.

“Leah, you basically live here”

“What?!”

Bad choice, noted.

She literally jumps so high you have to take a moment to appreciate your own cat metaphor for such spot on accuracy.

As the freshly nominated Arsenal’s captain, the goddesses and gods of football bowed to Kim Little, she shouldn’t risk her knees so mindlessly. You have to calm her down before some questionable network buys the rights for a high-budget documentary of how you managed to kill the equivalent of Princess Diana for the football community.

“I’m sorry to be the one that broke it to you, but at this point only you don’t–”

“You’re not making any sense, really, I–”

“Please, walk me through your day”

Easy.

The past two weeks have been dedicated to national duties, training camp and a friendly overseas. Not too bad, you both manage to keep in touch despite the time difference and your own commitments.

The trip back is uneventful, she sleeps for most of the flight and annoys Beth for the rest of it.

You pick her up at the airport.

Just because you’re closer than her mom and offered to.

You drive her to her apartment, but the blonde leaves the suitcase somewhere in the living room to deal with another time and comes back to the car in under three minutes.

Just because you promise to make dinner, she is supposed to refuse?

You two cook together, even if she’s still forbidden to use the air fryer and your wine accessories after the shrimps accident.

But we don’t talk about the shrimps accident.

The food is good, the company is even better. Stories are shared, memories are created with a questionable playlist in the background and laughs front and foremost. Plans are made to go see a film you’ve been waiting a year for and to find a dress she needs for a charity event.

Just because.

She takes a shower after, finally washing away the fatigue with her fancy shampoo you somehow have around in the bathroom. There’s also her favourite lotion, the delicate scent she can now smell with her eyes closed when she misses you a little too much for some reason. Even getting to the point of applying the scar cream she uses when her knee bothers, just because you know–

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit”

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit’, indeed”, the smile on your face grows as you see the realisation crashing over Leah.

The English capitan may be a clueless idiot sometimes, but you’re already too into it to pretend not to like it.

“I basically live here”

The thought of her finally realising she moved in with you is not something you’ve indulged too much. An unconscious but lingering fear is the faithful companion of ruthless nights, lying in bed with Leah and her commitment issues.

Most nights she falls asleep holding on to you, and most mornings she wakes you up with a freshly made coffee. But she runs away and disappears for days after sharing a way too intimate moment.

By now, you know her well enough to know when to push her limits and when to let her be.

Yet, the confused and almost uncomfortable frown creasing her features hurts.

“I have to go”

“Leah–”

Without giving you the possibility to say anything to reason with her – or just protesting, for what it matters –, the footballer is putting on the first t-shirt she finds and fleeing the scene.

It’s one of your favourite tees, but maybe this it’s not the time to point it out.

“I need to go, I–”, she mutters as she tries to simultaneously put the shoes on and open the front door.

“Are you planning to walk back to your place?”

“Maybe?”

“It’s a ten minutes ride by car, you’re not that kind of athlete”

“I’ll call a taxi”

“With the phone you left on the nightstand?”

For the first time, probably ever, you sound exhausted and not amused at all about the situation – she notices it too. It’s not like she’s completely clueless about the loose attitude, the blowing hot and cold.

You look at her, never dropping your gaze as your head shakes and a tired smile doesn’t reach your eyes. You hand her the phone you picked up when she was too concerned with running away from whatever therapist’s comment was echoing in her mind to realise what she was leaving behind.

Literally speaking, obviously.

“Please, wait here for the taxi. It’s dark outside”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“We can talk at training in a couple of days”, you ease her worry with a quick side hug and a kiss on the forehead, closing the bedroom’s door behind you.

~

A couple of days later, you don’t talk at training.

She’s avoiding you.

Well, kind of. Everyone at Arsenal, even the chocolate-coloured dog Win, can tell she’s torn up inside and always on the verge of a mental breakdown or, probably worst, ready to rant an apology speech she rehearsed in front of the mirror a concerning amount of times.

The usually composed skipper is panicking whenever found around you, trying to approach and chickening out despite the mental pep talks.

“Care to tell me why she’s sleeping on my couch?”

Lia insisting on pairing for the drill was a trap, you should have seen it coming.

“She found out she moved in”, you let her know, an amused smile lighting up your features for the first time this week.

It’s easy enough to put aside the bruised ego when the situation is as ridiculous as the one you’re currently in, one can laugh at their own misery.

“Finally?”

“I think she panicked”

“Of course she did, she has commitment issues and an apartment she’s not staying in– not even now!”, she passes the ball back to you, completely missing the point of the exercise you’re supposed to do, “Why is she sulking in my house?”

“Can’t tell you, she’s avoiding me as if I signed for Tottenham”

“Don’t joke about that, she may have a heart attack”

You both burst out in giggles, knowing too well it’d be a real chance. Or Leah could find the motivation to approach you – to kill you, sure, but she’d need to be close enough to do it with her bare hands.

“Be patient with her, she’s trying”, Lia gently says after composing herself.

The curious relationship you are building with the blonde may be questionable and unhealthy for some people, but it’s filled with respect and care. It resonates with genuine laughs and whispered secrets, it cherishes with caring hands and firm holds. It’s love.

The kind of love two people give each other despite the fears and the doubts.

“I know, I’m trying too”

~

After two weeks, the most awkward goal celebration in a London derby history, and an even more embarrassing phone call with Leah’s brother, you definitely have enough.

It’s not too bad, really.

She doesn’t flee the room as soon as you make your entrance anymore, the conversations start quietly but progress in the usual easy and carefree way. Sometimes she leans into you in the middle of a night out, other times your hands find each others without a real reason if not the comforting feeling that such a simple action can provide.

It’s not perfect, but you can tell she’s trying and she has a lot going on in her head already. You just want to be there, that’s all you have ever wanted.

It’s not too bad, there’s a reason for everything.

There’s a reason for your shopping list to still include her favourite bread and that inexplicably expensive shampoo, there’s a reason for the warm coffee with your name scribbled on it in the changing room every morning.

There’s a reason for saving a spot next to the other during tactical and video sessions, on the bus for the away game, or on the table at your go-to restaurant.

There’s a reason for the smiles secretly shared in the middle of a stupid debate going on between your teammates.

There’s a reason for you to sleep with the jersey she gave you the first time you played against each other and for her to still be squatting on Lia’s couch wearing your tee – the Swiss woman makes sure to send pictures and updates every night.

It’s not too bad, but it’s game night at the Williamson, and you’re not going to put your victory streak at risk because Leah is freaking out about her housing situation and ghosting her therapist too.

“Are you planning to hide here all night?”, you ask after tapping at her car’s window.

She looks surprised, even if she’s the one parked in front of her mother’s house for the past ten minutes – lights turning off as soon as she spotted you on the side of the road.

The window rolls down comically slow, and the blonde relaxes immediately when she gathers enough courage to look up at you just to find your amused smile. Hands still grasping around the steering wheel, turning white as her cheeks get redder every second.

She’s aware she’s been ridiculous.

“I didn’t know if you’d have come tonight”, she admits.

“I can leave, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own–”

“No!”, she shouts immediately, “I mean, you’re already here. I want you here, I–”

“Good, I really want to defend my champion’s title and I can’t do it if my charades partner is playing hide and seek by herself”, you say, taking a step back to invite her to exit the car.

The teasing smile, that faded just for a moment, is back on your face and she couldn’t be happier to realise nothing really changed – you still look at her with unconditional affection and care, you still look after her heart in the most gentle way you possibly can.

“Hurry up, Williamson, I’ve been talking with your mother more than I’ve been with you lately so I kinda own her to lose a game or two”

She sighs and finally opens the door, getting out of the car with all the enthusiasm of a kid heading to the dentist without the promise of ice cream afterwards. And there is the t-shirt you’ve been looking for.

How many of your clothes did she manage to steal without you realising?

That’s why there’s so much of hers in the damn drawer.

“I wasn’t avoiding you”, she mumbles, more to her feet than to you as she drags them even slower.

It’s going to be the longest ten metres ever.

“Right, and Mariona isn’t asking me how to befriend the stray cat wandering in her apartment”

“I’m sorry, alright? I freaked out. The whole ‘basically living together’ thing just–”, she stops in the middle of the road, waving her hands around as if trying to catch the right words out of thin air, “It just hit me, I haven’t seen it coming”

You gently but firmly pull her safely to the other side of the road before answering, “I figured when Lia cornered me in the middle of training”

“I knew she’d tell you”, the footballer groans, rubbing her face, “She said you’d understand, but I was too scared to talk to you and–”

“I do understand, Leah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you suffer for abandoning me and tricking Lia and Mario into adopting you”

She laughs at that, the sound loosening the tension in her shoulders and deep into your stomach. You may be more at peace with your love for the blonde, more confident in this relationship, but you have doubts too.

It breaks her heart to make you insecure, you who always go above and beyond to make sure she’s comfortable when it comes to the feelings and the moments you’re sharing – the future you’re building.

“Can we go slow? Like, really slow?”, she looks at you, her eyes softer and the panic fading to be replaced by a new sense of certainty.

“I think we can’t go any slower even if we tried, took you half an hour to exit the car and for us to make literally ten steps toward your mom’s house”

The punch that hits you is strong enough to make you wince.

“Fine, I think we can compromise”

“Your terms?”

“I get visitation rights to my own apartment and free access to your closet”, she proposes, holding out her hand.

“You already have those”, you raise an eyebrow at her cocky smile, “You have to promise not to air-dry your hair on my silk sheets ever again”

“Deal”, Leah smiles as you shake hands, “I’ll just have to get my own pillows for my side of the bed so you can stop complaining”

She laughs oh-so-carefreely at your stunned expression, finally stepping closer and leaning into your embrace, still holding on to you as she approaches the front door.

“I’ll text Lia I’m going home with you tonight”

“Good”, you say, kissing the top of her head, “But let’s be real, you just need an excuse to steal more of my clothes, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but it looks better on me”

She’s saved by her own mother, opening the door and happily taking in the lovely scene with a knowing grin. The older woman pushes you both inside, commenting about the delay and claiming it is a tactic not allowed – all the games are going to be played, doesn’t matter how late it turns.

“You better let me win if you don’t want to be the one sleeping on a couch tonight”, she whispers in your ear as you take the seat by her side.

“Don’t push your luck, Williamson. We’ve got a long way to go, and you still have to find out about the pair of keys with your name on it hidden in the drawer”

fine.

[starry-bi-sky]

No.

No, no, no, no, NO!

He's shaking. His heart is burning in his chest, pounding like a jackhammer against his ribs, and there's a trembling, aching rage building beneath his tongue and pressing against his teeth.

In his hands, his fingers tense and wrists locked, the article reads in big, black font: JOKER LOCKED IN ARKHAM ASYLUM AGAIN!

Danny shouldn't feel so angry about this, this is a good thing. Gotham doesn't have to deal with him for another few months at the least. He should feel relieved, a little more at peace.

He is not.

He cannot swallow the fury thudding behind his eyes, the burning white heat searing a deeper hole in his chest. A searing green filling static in his ears in the way only the rage of the restless dead can have.

How is he going to kill him now?

Arkham may be the only asylum in America made entirely of tissue paper, but it's still an asylum. There are cameras, guards, other patients resting inside. Danny can think of a million different ways to sneak in and kill Joker, but someone will hear his screaming.

It'd have to be rushed.

He doesn't want it to be rushed.

It's a cruel thought. Cruel and cold and merciless, but Danny doesn't feel an ounce of shame, not an ounce of guilt, for it. He wants to be alone with the Joker when he kills him, that's all he wants. In Arkham, you are never alone.

He forces his anger to bubble back down into his chest, stuffing it between his heartstrings and his ribs like a blanket you're trying to bunch up into a corner. It sizzles and burbles. The static begins to fade out into a high-pitched ringing; it sounds like distant screaming.

Danny is still trembling, but he can think a little clearer now.

He can wait.

He can wait. He can wait. He can wait. He canwait. Hecanwait. Hecanwait.

He can wait.

He's waited five years for this. He can wait one more week. One more month. One more year. However long it takes for the Joker to break back out, Danny can wait.

And when the Joker does, inevitably, break out.

Danny uncrinkles his fingers around the edges of the newspaper, loosens his limbs just enough so he can pay for it.

He'll be waiting.

The dead, after all, have all the time in the world.

[wandering-dreamer-1]

Ao3 is down, and I don't know what to do with myself

[fkinavocado]

Daddy issues- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

extra / alternatively, read on wattpad

*timeline: somewhere after the main story

Home (word count: 6.5k)

“Honey, I’m home!”

You heard Harry at the front door and greeted him back, waiting for him to come into the kitchen to see the surprise you had waiting for him.

Home.

After your trip to Italy you decided not to head back to the US. Harry suggested you’d try London on for a fit, and after renting out a place for quite a few months, you finally decided this would be your new home. Harry brought his business back home so to speak, and you began hunting for the perfect place. It hadn’t been easy, but you’d found it finally- a typical Londonese townhouse, full of charm and history. And the fact it had quite the back yard had been a major plus.

The price point had been an absolute shock. Harry assured you it was a good area and that’s why the price was so steep but you couldn’t hurt but argue that he could’ve bought a mansion back in the US for that kind of money. 

Because, of course, Harry wouldn’t even consider debating some sort of arrangement in which you could chip in. The property was in his name, and it’s not like you were married, so it made sense in a way, but you wanted to at least pay the bills if anything. Harry would shut down any such attempts of yours.

Even though you’d finally found the place to call your own, it was still a work in progress. But it was home. Harry had made sure of it. He’d never ceased looking for the place that would be the perfect home for the two of you, for a fresh start together. 

There wasn’t much you had to tackle on, with Harry being the talented interior designer that he was. Not that he didn’t consult with you on every small thing and worked hard to turn your vision into reality. But the garden he’d left to your tending alone. And, well, until you could find your footing again career-wise, you enjoyed playing the housewife quite a bit.

Harry was treating you as such, anyway. He knew better than to rush this kind of thing with you after what the two of you had been through, but you knew he was just aching to pop the question. 

And maybe you were beginning to entertain the idea, too. The mere notion of marriage used to scare you, what with the toxic family you’d grown up in, but Harry was your rock. He was your forever, you just knew it. And you knew it’d make him happy. So you were trying to give him subtle hints that maybe he could be less tentative in his approach.

You were never much of a cook, but you did try, for him, for the two of you. Besides, you were starting to get bored at home. Job hunting wasn’t exactly being very fruitful, especially since you weren’t quite sure what you wanted to do going further, and Harry encouraged you to take all the time you needed and even insisted you could even not go back to work at all. He very much enjoyed having you home all to himself.

Not to mention all his talk of breeding you during sex, a kink of his (and yours) that had revved up quite dramatically ever since you’d been to Italy. You didn’t really discuss it properly outside the bedroom, but you knew deep down this was something Harry was genuinely hoping for. He wanted kids with you, no doubt. And that was something you were still trying to figure out for yourself. 

“Something smells delicious in here.”

Slightly startled, lost in your train of thought, you turned to him. And what a glorious sight it was. Harry had just returned from a football match (the way he insisted soccer was actually called here) with some of his old and newer buddies, and he liked to go all in. He even wore a proper jersey, the whole she-bang, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was a proper football player with the way said jersey clung onto his sweaty body, knee high socks and his hair pinned up messily in a small claw clip atop his head. 

“Oh, it’s just a little something.”

“Love, it’s not just a little something. You barely made it all fit on the dinner table!”

“Well, I know you had a long week at work and you’d been looking forward to go kick that ball around with the boys and would get back home famished, so… hope you like it.”

“Damn, I’m a lucky son of a bitch aren’t I?” He grinned and you made your way to him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Sorry, darling, I should go wash up first. I’m a sweaty mess.”

“No, don’t, the food will get cold. It’s been set on the table for some 10 minutes, the game took longer than I expected. Sorry,” you worried your lower lip between your teeth and watched him look at you endearingly and then even more so taking in everything you’d set out on the table for dinner.

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. I’m sorry it took so long, had I known what was waiting for me back home I’d have rushed back. But I had to wait for David to drive me back, and that wanker was trying to get us all to go hit a pub. Luckily everyone was feeling beat and he dropped it.”

“David… Beckham?”

Harry laughed, “I’ll tell him you said that. He’ll get a kick out of it.”

“But wait, why did you need him to drive you home? Didn’t you drive there?”

“I did, but I have an ouchie.” He pouted, giving you his best puppy dog eyes and you giggled before it actually hit you.

“What? You’re injured?! Where?”

Harry chuckled. “Hardly an injury. But I did sprain my ankle I’m afraid. Certainly feels like it, I can’t lean on it. It’s my right so I can’t drive.”

You were just now noticing Harry was leaning against the open space arch of the kitchen, resting his whole weight on his good leg.

“What are you standing there for?! Sit down, for god’s sake. And you wanted to take a shower–” you scolded him, which for some reason made him smile all the more as he limped to his seat at the table. “I’ll run you a bath after you eat. Let me get you some hygienic wet wipes at least, those hands look like you’ve been out gardening, I swear to god…” you left for the wipes, mumbling to yourself and could hear Harry’s low chuckle. He found your worry endearing but you lowkey wanted to wring his neck for not being more careful.

After going through all the cabinets in which you could’ve swore you’d stashed some, you returned to the kitchen. “I can’t find them.”

“I’ll wash my hands in the sink–” he made to stand up but you pushed him back into his chair gently, mindful of his injury.

“For god’s sake, sit down you silly man.” You then scooted your own chair next to his and started plating for him. 

“Y/N, this looks amazing. Truly. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

He sounded genuinely impressed and that lifted your spirits somewhat. “Well, it’s the least I can do sitting at home all day doing nothing while you’re out there earning a living.”

Harry gave you a long look, and you felt it so intensely that you looked up at him after you set his place in between the two of you, “what?”

“You know that’s not how it works. You shouldn’t ever feel the need to compensate in any way, my love. You know that. Have I not told you this enough times that it gets through in that pretty head of yours? This is not a barter. I’m not expecting anything of you. Not a single thing. I just want you to be happy doing whatever it is that you want to do.”

“I know?...” you cleared your throat, repeating to sound more convincing. “I know. I happened to like doing this for you. For us. Gives me a sense of accomplishment that I contribute to our home together. Is that so bad?”

Harry wanted to bring his hand to your cheek and then clumsily refrained, remembering he hadn’t had a chance to wash. “Of course not, sweetheart. But I’m just making sure you’re doing it because you genuinely felt like doing it. And just because you did this today, I’m not expecting it tomorrow, or the day after. You don’t need to cook. I enjoy cooking for us too, and we can always go out or order takeout, it’s nothing to stress over. Alright? Promise me?”

You smiled, taking in his genuine words. “I promise, baby. Now shush. It’s getting cold.”

He laughed and when he made to grab the fork you playfully slapped it away. “Nuh-huh. Dirty hands. I’ll feed you.”

Harry really laughed then, throwing his head back a bit. “Excuse you?”

“What? C’mon. Here comes the airplaaaane…”

Harry looked at you incredulously but eventually gave into your little game. He smilingly allowed you to hand feed him two forkfulls, then pushed his chair further away from the table, patting his left thigh. “Hop on.”

“But– your leg…”

“It’s the good one, c’mon. Do it proper if you’re gonna do it, hm?”

You gave him a pointed look and then plopped yourself in his lap, resuming forking food up to feed to him. 

“Baby, this is incredible. I can’t get over it.”

“Yeah? You truly like it?”

“I love it!” He widened his eyes for emphasis which made you giggle. After a few more forkfulls he insisted you ate some as well, and you didn’t bother switching silverware. You shared his plate and then you got up to get some more of your favorites, and Harry didn’t miss the opportunity to swat your bum teasingly. 

“Apron and all. Hmm. You know, this is starting to make sense now that I’m nourished and can properly take this all in: you were trying to seduce me. You little minx…”

“Is that right?” You plopped yourself back into his lap, scooting in closer to him this time around. 

Harry groaned, squeezing your lovehandle with his arm around your waist. “Alright then. I’ll play your little game. See if it works, hm?”

“We shall see.” you shrugged and he couldn’t resist pulling you in for a kiss before you resumed feeding the both of you.

Harry really did gobble down most of what you’d cooked. You enjoyed it as well, to your surprise. Sure, there was definitely room for improvement but all in all you could consider it a success. One of many, if you felt so inclined, as per Harry’s reiteration at the end of the meal.

You did keep your promise and went to run him a bath. He checked some work on his laptop that you’d retrieved for him while he waited, and then you helped him walk to the master bathroom and get into the tub. You realized it was worse than he was letting on, though, with the way he rested so much of his weight on your shoulders and kept wincing all the way. Harry was definitely not the kind to ever complain about any kind of pain unless it was serious, and while he wasn’t complaining he certainly wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was in pain either. You loved that about him, the fact that he allowed himself to be vulnerable like that in front of you and not let his masculine ego get in the way.

“Shouldn’t you get it x-rayed?” You sat at the edge of the tub as he soaked blissfully, closing his eyes and getting comfy against the headrest. 

“Don’t be silly, darling. It’s just a sprain. I’ve had plenty. Will keep it elevated for a day or two and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’m not so sure, Harry. I’ve had my ankle sprained plenty of times too but you really look like you’re in pain. And I got a good look at it too and it looks really swollen.”

“Hey, I’m a shower not a grower. You know that.”

You splashed some water at him making him laugh, wiping the suds from his face.

"You're a brave little thing when you know I can't make any sudden movements. But just you wait, hm?"

But you were right. As the evening progressed it got worse, the pain was throbbing and although you helped him to bed and elevated his foot on some throw pillows, his grunts were intensifying.

“You’re so damn stubborn. What’s wrong with going to the ER?”

“I’ll see how I feel in the morning. I just need to sleep it off. Could you remove the pillows though? I feel it’s making it worse somehow.”

“Alright… but I’m getting you some painkillers. Be right back.”

You removed the throw pillows as he requested and went searching for something to help with the pain and swelling. Drugs had different names here, and you had to google some of them from the limited kit you’d gathered since you’d moved. Finally you found something that looked promising and decided to give him a double dosage, lord knows he needed it.

After you brought it to Harry and had him gulp them down with a full glass of water, you cuddled to his side and got comfy before you both resumed your reading. Harry had this habit of reading before bedtime and it grew on you too, and now you enjoyed reading before bed snuggled up together.

You were so engrossed in your book that you didn’t notice Harry dozing off. It was only when you heard his faint little snores that you peeked up at him from under his arm that he kept wrapped around your front as you laid into his side, playing with his fingers you hadn’t noticed going limp either. He looked adorable with his reading glasses that had slid down his nose somewhat, mouth parted slightly and book resting on his chest, moving with his deep breaths. 

You had the sudden urge to kiss him all over, but you knew he needed rest. The fact that he had managed to fall asleep meant the painkillers had kicked in, the last thing you wanted was to wake him up. He needed a good night’s rest to recover.

You carefully slid out of his hold, put your book away and turned your lamp off, then fished his book out of his other hand and placed it on his night stand, reaching over him carefully to turn off his lamp.

Just before you could reach for it, you felt his warm embrace engulf you, his hot, pouty lips sponging a wet kiss to your neck. “Leave it on, want to look at you,” he murmured against your skin.

You chuckled quietly, keeping your voice low, “oh no, big boy. We’re calling it a night. You need your rest, go back to sleep.”

“But you seduced me!” He whined and the pitch of his voice almost made you laugh with how genuine it sounded. You then pulled back a bit to look him in the eye when he kept his arms tight around you, refraining you from turning off the lamp, and took in his appearance. His pupils were dilated to the point where the green in his eyes was barely visible anymore, his cheeks flushed, his lips shiny and pouty, you couldn’t help but give in and kiss him. One kiss, is what you told yourself, one good night kiss and then you’d coax him into going back to sleep but as soon as your lips touched he thrust his tongue inside of your mouth without preamble, the kiss turning heated instantly.

His hands slid down your sides until they reached your ass, squeezing it firmly and then spanking you swiftly. “Little minx. Did you think you could seduce daddy and leave him hanging?”

You could physically feel your panties dampen at that. It didn’t take much for him to work you up, his words as effective as they’d always been. 

“We can’t… your ankle–”

“Plenty of things I can do without having to move much, sweetheart. Hm? How about you put in all the work for once. Take the day off from being such a pillow princess.”

You gasped at that and he bit his lower lip in amusement, his eyes sparkling with mischief at the way his words had gotten just the reaction he’d wanted out of you.

“I beg your finest–”

He spanked you again, hard,  effectively silencing you. “Sure, you can beg. Beg, crawl, cry your little eyes out for daddy to fuck you silly. Let’s start with that, why don’t we?”

You gulped, panting heavily just from the dirty talk and the way he was looking at you. “Please, daddy… I don’t want to hurt you.”

You saw endearment flash over his face before he smirked, erasing any trace of it. “That’s cute, darling. You’re only hurting daddy’s feelings by not trusting me. Do you not trust me, Y/N?”

You nodded dumbly, “of course I do, daddy…”

“Then slide out of those flimsy panties of yours that you call pyjamas and crawl up here.”

You furrowed your brows while you did as instructed, but before you could ask him to clarify, he grabbed at you as he scooted lower on the bed, without so much as wincing so you trusted he was being careful with his movements, manhandling you right where he wanted you: hovering over his face.

“Would you look at that, darling. Made a mess of yourself already.” He blew against your wetness, making you shiver. He ran his hands up and down your ass and back of your thighs, and then spanked you once more. It stung particularly hard now that you were half naked. “Tsk. What am I going to do with you, hm? Kiss you once and you get all wet like a filthy slut. Thought you were being the good little housewife, Y/N. What happened to her, hm? Cooked me a nice meal, ran me a bath, tended to me, sat in bed reading with me. What happened that made her turn into such a filthy little slut for me all of a sudden?”

You whined at his degrading words and how he kept you hovering over his mouth, his nose nudging against your clit as he spoke, barely grazing it but making you squirm every time. 

He spanked you again, making you moan. “Asked you a question Y/N, answer me!”

“I was… you said it yourself, I was… seducing you.”

“You were, weren’t you?” He chuckled lowly. “Could see right through your little act. Doting on your daddy when all you want, really, is for me to fuck you silly in return. Didn’t know I was injured at first, of course… bet you were disappointed, going through all that trouble, not getting anything in return for it, hm?”

“No!” You whined, even though you knew he was just teasing to get a reaction out of you. You enjoyed a bit of degradation in the bedroom and Harry knew just how far to push it without hurting your feelings in earnest. “I did it because I love you, daddy… never want anything in return…”

“Oh yeah? So you’d be okay if I just plopped you back onto bed and kissed your forehead goodnight?’

You wiggled on top of him but he wouldn’t allow you to lower yourself, desperate for his mouth. He chuckled, “thought so. Like I said.. Just a desperate little slut for her daddy…”

“Yes… I am! So what?! Been good… I deserve it! Please, daddy, I’m dripping…”

“Not quite, I’d feel it if you did,” he teased, making you whine pitifully. “Maybe you don’t want it bad enough?”

“I do, I do… please, daddy. Please, please? Just one lick, I’ll prove it. I’ll be so good for you, ride your face just like you like. Let you bury your tongue inside me, get you all messy. Please let me.”

Harry groaned, throwing his head further into his pillow, narrowing his eyes at you. His resolve was crumbling and you knew it. Still, you gave him your best dowe eyes, biting your lower lip and bringing a hand to your tit, squeezing it through the thin crop top you were wearing. 

“Okay.” He tried to keep his voice level but you could hear the slight tremble in it. “Just one lick, better make it good, Y/N.”

You nodded your head enthusiastically, and when he finally allowed you to lower yourself a bit more so he could reach you comfortably, and his tongue swiped between your folds you moaned loudly and sank down all the way against his face, still careful to keep much of your weight on your knees but making sure you were flush against him.

His own moan vibrated against you before spanking you once, twice, three times in the exact same spot, making sure he left a visible handprint for you both to admire for the next few days. 

“Lucky you’ve got such a sweet cunt, sweetheart, otherwise I’d punish you on the spot for that little stunt.” He was panting heavily, barely getting the words out before latching his lips to your clit and sucking intently, alternating between long drags and short little pulsating sucks, and you mewled wantonly above him, desperate for more already.

Harry grabbed your asscheeks and guided you against his mouth, making an absolute mess of himself in the process, your fingers digging into his curls for leverage, the slight pull making him groan in pleasure. You glided against his mouth blissfully, all your inhibitions thrown to the wind; he always knew how to get you there, make you lose yourself in the feel of him to the point where you surrendered to your instincts completely. 

When he finally stuck his tongue inside of you, you threw your head back, and he brought his one hand off your ass to deliver a swift slap against your clit, making it throb deliciously. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Watch while your man devours your pretty pussy.”

You nodded your head, biting hard on your lower lip. “Just like that, daddy. Lap me up, it’s just for you.”

Harry loved it when you got vocal too. It wasn’t very often, a rare treat, and definitely only had its time and place when Harry wasn’t feeling too dominating. You could tell he loved it with the way he rolled his eyes to the back of his head and ate at you like a man starved. Harry ate pussy much like he kissed, he put his all into it. Wet, sloppy, passionate, intense, you wouldn’t have it any other way. He genuinely loved and craved it and it was driving you absolutely feral.

He grabbed at your hips, detaching you off of his face and spitting right against you before delivering another swift slap. “Turn around. Suck me, show me what a good slut you are for daddy.”

You clumsily did as he ordered and scurried down his body as he manoeuvred you right back over his face, wasting no time before he latched his mouth back onto you. You could barely think while he was doing it, let alone coordinate your movements, but you reached for him blindly and pulled his throbbing cock out of his sweats. He’d forgone underwear, as usual. You loved this angle while giving him head, you could slide him down your throat much easier this way. Which is exactly what you did, as soon as you licked all over his length ensuring proper lubrication, making him thrust up in surprise and gagging you.

“Fuck!” He added two fingers into the mix, either to apologise or reward you, you couldn’t tell, curling them right against your g-spot, to which he also had easy access from that angle. You slowed your movements, breathing in deeply through your nose and moaning around him, making him grunt and speed up his fingers, replacing them with his tongue, fucking you with it for a bit as he rubbed at your clit with the same fingers coated in your juices, then pushing them right back inside. He kept alternating between his tongue and his fingers and you were right on the verge of a delicious orgasm, but you tried to stave it off, wanted to get him there too before you gave into the pleasure and you knew you wouldn’t be able to work him as effectively.

You toyed with his balls and you sucked him just the way he liked, and you did notice he was trying his best not to thrust up again, but you weren’t sure if he was doing it to refrain from straining his leg or just for your sake. He loved it when you chocked on him, which is why you did it again, holding him in the back of your throat for longer this time and swallowing around him.

“Fuck, just like that, baby. Take it. Take it all.”

He added a third finger and you knew you couldn’t hold off much longer. Harry could tell too, knowing your telltale signs by heart by now. “Don’t bother coming if you’re not going to drench me, Y/N. I mean it,” he warned. “Either you squirt all over my face or hold it until you do. Gonna be a good girl for daddy and give me what I want?”

He could feel your head bobbing as you tried your best to nod while he stuffed your mouth, and with one final push to the back of your throat you felt him shaking beneath you, his whole body tensing before he shot his cum right down your throat. You pull off a bit and sucked just the tip, his warm release flooding your mouth and making you spill some too as he came violently. 

“Good girl…. Good fucking girl, Y/N…” he regained his composure slowly, resuming his vigorous pumps. “Sucked me dry, now let me have it. Fucking come for me, do it, right into my mouth, right now!”

The dam broke and you swore you were happier not to have disappointed him than to actually finally reach your peak. He groaned and moaned all throughout, sticking his tongue inside you again and licking you up and all around until you collapsed entirely on top of him and he knew you were spent and done for.

He helped you off of him, gentle at first but then he grabbed at you and made you hover over him for a heated kiss before you could plop to his side and fall right asleep like you usually did after he’d make you squirt like this.

“Did so good for me, darling, the best slutty housewife, aren’t you? Complete package, making me so happy. Daddy loves you so much, sweetheart.”

You mumbled something unintelligible against his mouth, as he kept peppering your face with kisses, praising you and caressing you tenderly. 

“Wanted you to ride me, but we’ll save that for another day. Have a feeling I should be resting tomorrow as well, make a full recovery.”

You groaned in protest and he laughed at your cute reaction, knowing full well how much you actually enjoyed riding him. You weren’t a pillow princess at all, and you both knew it. Harry just enjoyed dominating you too much for it to happen that often. 

But little did he know, that’s exactly how you were planning to wake him up in the morning. You were determined to take full advantage of this opportunity to dote on him in every way. He was sure to sleep in after all the physical activity and his body really did need rest. You made sure to bring a damp towel and clean up the both of you before you went to sleep, checked to see if the swelling on his ankle had gone down (it hadn’t), and then cuddled into his side making sure he’d sleep face up and not move around in his sleep much.

You woke up smilingly, realizing it was still early enough and Harry would sleep unperturbed for another hour naturally.

You slid out of bed carefully, tiptoed around the room to gather your phone and then quietly made your way to the kitchen where you googled the recipe for crêpes suzette. You grimaced as you took in how difficult they were to make. They were a favourite of Harry’s, so you willed yourself not to be discouraged. 

You kept glancing at the kitchen clock, time went on and it was taking forever, you hoped Harry would not wake up to the smell of it (it did smell quite amazing to be honest), or to the accidental loud noises you made whenever you dropped an utensil clumsily.

You were no housewife, that was for sure, even after all that experience waitressing, but cooking was Harry’s expertise. You’d made him proud the night before though, waiting for him with homemade dinner, prompting you further to do your best and spoil him a bit, especially now that he was prone to be a bit grouchy. Harry hated feeling incapacitated in any way, he rarely fell ill but when he did he tried to hide it until it was inevitable, never wanting to appear weak in front of you. He allowed himself to be vulnerable and pour his heart out to you entirely, but when it came to his physical capabilities, the man had one big ego.

You smirked to yourself in anticipation of his reaction later on. With still some time to spare, you showered in the guest bathroom, smiling when you returned into the kitchen with Harry nowhere in sight and the fragrant smell of oranges all around. You took his favourite bourbon vanilla icecream out of the freezer, scooping some out and plating it on top of the crêpes. 

You quietly made your way back into the master bedroom, Harry sleeping soundly still. Part of you felt like maybe you should let him sleep in some more, but then your plan would go to waste and sure, he’d still appreciate the crêpes, but your surprise wouldn’t be complete if you did.

You carefully placed the plate on his nightstand and then eyed the way he was tenting the duvet. Harry usually slept in the nude, not all of the time, but certainly always after sex. Removing the duvet as slowly as possible as to not wake him up, you felt your mouth water at the sight of his delicious length just waiting there, ready to fill you up and stretch you just right, in one way or another. You took off your robe you’d worn out of the shower, letting it pool to your feet and leaving you stark naked. You’d made sure to use his favourite body wash, even complete with the body oil from the same set he’d gifted you a while back. Your skin was glowy in the soft morning light, the sun barely peeking through the windows.

Carefully, you straddled him. What you really wanted was to slide right onto him. And you could’ve, you’d both woken the other up like this plenty of times. It was something you both enjoyed, especially in the middle of the night.

But for what you had in mind, you avoided his length that kept twitching tantalisingly in his sleep, and instead straddled his navel right below his butterfly tattoo.

You bent down to kiss him gently, your hands caressing his face and his body softly as you did so. Harry moaned awake, not in the least surprised to feel you on top of him for a split second, almost as though he’d been dreaming of this very scenario.

When he came to his senses fully his eyes widened, and his kiss deepened, his arms coming around you and his cock pushing into your backside.

“Morning, baby.”

Harry beamed at you, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear delicately. “Morning, my little love.” He kissed you again, humming against your lips. He made to flip you over but, flexing his leg muscles he was quickly reminded of his injury and he groaned in pain, tightening his hold on you.

“Fuck! I’d forgotten all about that for a moment there…”

You winced at his pained reaction, wishing you would’ve reminded him about it before he could try and move. “Is it as bad?”

Harry puffed his cheeks, exhaling loudly. “It’s… bad.”

“Oh my baby… I’m so sorry. Here, I have something for you to make it all better, hm?”

Harry relaxed his features at that and pulled back a bit to take you all in. “I’d say… fuck, you gorgeous woman. Want me to have a heart attack to make me forget all about my sprained ankle, huh? Interesting approach.”

You chuckled, biting on your lower lip at the compliment shily. “Even better.” You reached over and grabbed the plate, presenting it to him proudly.

Harry sat up a bit, leaning on his elbows. “Have I actually died and gone to heaven, then? Skipped right through that heart attack.”

You giggled, using your spare hand to prop some pillows behind him so he could sit comfortably back against them. 

“Do you know what it is?”

“My favourites. Crêpes suzette. Bloody hell, did you actually make these yourself?”

You beamed at him, all proud and happy with his genuinely surprised reaction. “Yes I did. Just for you. Know you like them, wanted to pamper you a bit.”

“Smells incredible.” He let his hands roam your body freely, stopping at your breasts and kneading them with just the right amount of pleasure. “You’re incredible. Kiss me.”

You leaned over, the plate to the side and out of the way. “I love you.”

He smiled against your lips and his hands moved down your spine to your waist, deepening the kiss, but you pulled back, straightening.

“Fill me up, daddy.”

Harry groaned, not wasting any time in aiding you sink down his cock. You clenched around him, trying to adjust and Harry squeezed your hips until it hurt a bit with how much he was refraining from thrusting into you until you relaxed around him.

You shifted forward a bit, making him moan and brought the plate back between the two of you, slicing up a bite and bringing the fork to his lips. 

Harry watched between heavy lids as you licked your lips in anticipation as if you were the one about to have a bite. Just as you fed it to him, you grinded against him, making him squeeze your hips even harder as his eyes widened in ecstasy. You did it again, only moving as you fed him a bit more of the crêpes. Harry was losing it. “I’m gonna come so hard. You’re blowing my mind. My senses are in overdrive.”

You hummed proudly. “Good.” You finally had a bite yourself and moaned around the fork. You couldn’t believe how good it turned out and that you’d actually made this from scratch. Well, aside from the ice cream. Speaking of which, Harry scooped some using his finger and painted it all over your tit, then sat up straighter to lick it all up and then suck it into his mouth greedily.

Between the two of you, you managed to finish the crêpes in record timing, orange syrup dripping between the two of you, Harry lapping it all off of you as he worked you over his body. He couldn’t use his legs for this so it was really up to you to pick up the pace, and you didn’t disappoint. You knew your thighs would burn for days afterwards but you rode him like you stole him. Thankfully, you’d both gotten quite worked up and reached your peeks in record timing. Harry didn’t even get to use his dirty mouth all that much, that’s how fast you got there.

“That was… a whole other level of pleasure.” He pulled you flush against him, both of you panting heavily.

“That worked out better than even I imagined,” you giggled.

“You’re full of surprises these days, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He caressed up and down your spine with featherlight touches. “I’m so lucky. Don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

Harry tightened his hold around you. “Sometimes it feels like my heart is gonna burst, that’s how happy you make me, you know that? Just another way to get me to that heart attack, I’m onto you, you know.”

You laughed lightly against his chest. “Oh no, you caught me.” You wanted to make another joke about your age gap but refrained, knowing his ego was already bruised more than his ankle was.

Harry swatted your bum playfully, almost as if reading your mind, the both of you laughing at how his fingers stuck to your skin in doing so. “How about you go run us another bath, love? I can feel us glueing together with that orange syrup.”

You reached to kiss him once more before pulling away. Didn’t bother covering up as you went and ran the bath, then took a good look at yourself in the mirror. You looked thoroughly fucked and radiant. You knew just what Harry was referring to when he said his heart felt like it was going to burst with happiness because you felt the exact same way.

By the time you made your way back into the bedroom, Harry was fast asleep again. You took in the sight of him, deciding to give him an extra hour before you woke him up again for your bath, just another way of pampering him. 

Slipping the bathrobe back on, you made your way back into the kitchen after turning off the tap in the bathroom to make some coffee, already thinking of convincing him to at least let you cockwarm him in the tub later.

Not even the harsh reality of all the dishes you had to clean wasn’t enough to swipe off that smile off your face. You’d never been happier. 

You were home.

Daddy issues- Masterlist

A/N: sooooo. i fully set out to write a subby DI harry based on this request. but in the end, daddy dom harry won. sorry not sorry lol. he won't be tamed😩

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here💌

🦋follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🦋

[vbecker10]

Hey love, how are you doing? Hope you’re all good. Could you write a Bucky x fem!reader who has an eating disorder, but she hides it from the team and she does it successfully, but on one mission she passes out, which is weird because she’s one of the best. She says it was just because she didn’t feel well and everyone believes her, but not Bucky. He senses that something’s off and eventually finds out, because he leaves reader no choice but to tell him, and so she does.

I’m struggling with my ed and I would love it, but if you don’t want to write this, it’s totally fine! I am a huge fan of your work💚

I Want You to be Healthy

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N) - established relationship / reader has an eating disorder

Summary: You pass out on the way to the jet after a successful mission. The team quickly accepts the excuse that you don't feel well but Bucky knows you well enough to know that you're lying. As soon as you are alone together, Bucky pushes you to open up to him about what truly made you pass out.

Warnings: Eating disorder, passing out, denying you have an eating disorder, feeling insecure about your weight & body image, keeping secrets from your friends and boyfriend, relapsing eating disorder

Background: Female reader has an Eating Disorder (a combination of anorexia and bulimia). Reader has the following behaviors: Skipping meals, frequent checking in the mirror for precieved flaws, constantly using a scale and tracking their weight, eating alone and at odd times of the day / night, exercising more frequently and more intensely than needed, not taking rest days or days off for injury, using the restroom soon after eating, making their own meals rather than eating what the team eats, often complains about needing to be healthy and talks about having to lose weight or gain muscle, thinking they are in control of their eating habits

A/N: Hi my lovely anon, I'm so sorry to hear you are struggling with your ED, I hope you can focus on yourself and get the help you need. I'm here if you want someone to listen 💚 Thank you for trusting me with this, I tried not to focus too much on the specific type of eating disorder since there are a few but I found some similarities between them when I was doing my research. I used those symptoms for this to make it a bit general. I hope this is okay 💚

I didn't tag too many people in this because I wasn't sure who exactly to tag, I won't be offend if you skip this 💚

Steve walks at the front of the group, one hand firmly gripped around the arm of a captured Hydra officer, her hands cuffed tightly behind her back. The mission was simple enough and more of you had gone than was needed but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to be out in the field. It was the only place you felt you belonged, where you could show the others on the team you were good enough to be here.

When Bucky had knocked on your door earlier this afternoon and asked if you were free to join them, you agreed eagerly. It was a welcome distraction from what you had been doing for the last hour, standing in front of your full length mirror, scrutinizing every inch of your body. The flaws in your physique are so glaringly obvious to you, you couldn't help but fixate on where you need to lose fat or gain muscle.

Bucky had smirked when you answered your door to him in nothing but a towel, he assumed you were having a lazy day after a relaxing shower. You hugged him tightly and told him you would get ready for the mission. There was no point in telling him what you had really been doing. A super soldier could never understand your daily struggle with your weight or the constant drive to be perfect. None of the Avengers could.

Natasha and Clint follow the captain closely, another captive officer walks with his head down between them as they discuss dinner. They quickly decide that since its Friday, they should get take out when they get back. There was no reason to make an excuse of course, take out was the easy option. Most of the team was either too busy to cook or had simply never been taught how to.

This meant you had to be even more careful because the food that was ordered was never healthy. Soon after you joined, you learned that it was easier to prepare all of your own food and eat in your room. Eating away from the team also meant they couldn't ask why your portions were what they considered small or why you were eating much later than them. It was none of their business anyways, you had told yourself often. As much as you would have liked their company, it was better this way. You could focus on your weight and health instead of answering all of their questions or dealing with their concerned opinions.

Bucky chuckles as he slips his arm around your waist, unaware of your thoughts. "I'm voting for spaghetti and meatballs, not that anyone asked me," he joins his friends conversation but you are barely listening.

Natasha checks to make sure Clint has a firm hold of the captive then she effortlessly turns, walking backwards smoothly through the thick leaves. "What do you want for dinner, Y/N?" she asks you with a smile, pointedly ignoring Bucky's comment which gets a laugh from Clint.

You don't answer, too distracted by the pain that is spreading deep in your stomach, the one that means you've almost reached your limit between meals. When you get back, you'll need to find something to eat, even if that means more time in the gym.

"Earth to Y/N," the spy waves at you to get your attention. When you make eye contact with her, she again asks what you want for dinner.

You shrug in response, the pain in your stomach growing as you walk. You know the type of answer she is looking for. Pizza, Thai, sushi. You could easily suggest any one of a hundred things but you can't. If you did, you would be expected to join them and that isn't something you are willing to do.

"Don't bother," Clint says when you are silent for a few more steps. His tone is relaxed but you worry he can tell what you are thinking. "You know Y/N never eats anything we order. We don't get anything healthy enough for her," he reminds Natasha. "Too much grease and fat and deliciousness."

"It's not my fault I'm the only one at the Tower worried about my figure," you roll your eyes at him.

Bucky laughs, his hand squeezes your waist, a part of your body you've always been self conscious about. "Your figure is perfect, doll," he smiles and you wish you could believe him but it's not that easy.

Natasha turns back to Clint, not missing a step and pats his stomach once. "Maybe you could learn something from her," she jokes.

"Hey!" he calls after her, sounding like an annoyed sibling. She laughs, jogging lightly towards Steve to hold the female officer while he opens the hatch.

Your ears begin to ring and the trees in the forest around you blend together, becoming hazy. Bucky kisses the top of your head and asks you a question but you can barely make out what he is saying. His voice is just above the ringing that vibrates in your mind. He looks down at you, his expression quickly turning to concern as he says your name but you don't respond.

You're light-headed and suddenly feel cold as your vision blurs more of your surroundings together. You take one more small step and stop, unable to continue forward. Bucky's hold on you tightens but you can't make out his words. You recognize what's happening to your body but only a second before you lose consciousness.

"Y/N," you hear Bucky say your name softly as he runs his metal fingers through your hair gently. Opening your eyes with a quiet groan, the jet gradually comes into focus but everything is sideways. You turn your head to look up at Bucky and realize your resting on his lap. "Slowly doll," he says, helping you sit up in the seat next to him.

"You okay?" Clint asks from the seat across from you.

You nod, still a bit dizzy, "Yeah."

"You had us all worried," Bucky says, his eyes not leaving you.

You shrug, hoping a few simple lies will calm everyone including yourself. It's been almost three years since you passed out from not eating. The last time it happened, your eating disorder had spiraled out of control for the second time and your family urged you to get treatment. It couldn't be happening again though, you think desperately. You are in control of your eating habits this time, you had just accidentally gone too long without eating.

"I felt kinda sick this morning. I know I probably should have stayed home but this sounded like a really quick mission," you offer an explanation that sounds likely.

"Next time you tell us if you don't feel well enough to go out," Steve says sternly from the pilot seat of the jet.

"Will do cap," you plaster on a smile to hide the wince from the dull ache in your stomach and salute him. This earns you a huff and a dramatic eye roll from the blonde super soldier.

"Good, can't let anything happen to the second best spy on the team," Natasha says with a smirk as she opens some files on her tablet.

You force out a small laugh, "Second best?" Then you look at Bucky who still hasn't taken his eyes off of you. He doesn't seem to have accepted your excuse as readily as everyone else but he also knows you better than anyone. "Are you going to let her talk about your girl like that?" Hoping the joke with Nat will distract him from his concern for you.

Bucky responds with a smile almost as fake as yours and says, "Of course not doll."

"Hey," Tony says when he spots you coming towards him in the hall. "How are you feeling? I heard to passed out in the field today."

"I'm okay, just a bit dehydrated," you tell him, holding up your bottle of water as proof.

"Okay, just try to be more careful next time," he tells you and you agree to as you continuing towards your room. "You're not gonna eat with us? Nat ordered from this new Mexican place."

"I'm still feeling a little off," you touch your forehead lightly and he nods. It's an easy excuse and it slips out before you even realize you've said it. You take a few more steps down the hall then add, "I'll see you all in the morning for training, though."

"Only if you're feeling up to it," he says and you give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He smiles, shaking his head when you turn away from him again. "You're allowed a rest day you know," he calls after you. You continue towards your room without responding, you know that's not true.

A soft knock on your door interrupts your reading and you get up to see who it is. "Hi Bucky," you greet your boyfriend warmly but he doesn't offer you a hug or even a smile in return.

"Can we talk?" he asks in a serious tone and you nod, letting him in as your heart races. Those three words send panic through your body in an instant. You freeze as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed, rubbing his hands together anxiously. "Come sit, doll," he taps the bed next to him lightly without looking at you, his eyes still fixed on his hands.

You walk over and sit next to him silently. What do you two need to talk about that is making him this uneasy, you think. The only answer that surfaces is that he's come to end your eight month relationship, but why? Did you do something wrong, had you forgotten something, your mind races in search of an answer.

He takes your hand in his metal one gently and takes a breath to steady himself which only makes you more nervous. "Y/N," he starts slowly, "I love you so much, you know that right?" He lifts his head to look at you and you nod, too anxious to speak.

"I'm going to ask you this once," he says, "And please, don't lie to me." You bite your bottom lip, searching his face for any hint of his question. "Why did you really pass out on the mission today?" he asks.

You feel the smallest hint of relief that this isn't about your relationship but then you are instantly filled with a different type of fear. Has Bucky figured out what you've been hiding from him, from everyone? Does he know about your eating disorder returning and your worry that you're losing control? Your mind fills with all of your most easily accepted excuses, hoping that you can convince him you are okay.

Before you can open your mouth, he shakes his head. "I need the truth doll," almost as if he can see the lies forming.

"I-" your words stick in your throat and you look away from Bucky, your eyes roaming around your small room. You focus on the high tech scale positioned in front of the tall, full length mirror you spend so much of your time in front of.

He cups your cheek, bringing your eyes back to his, "Talk to me. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong, Y/N."

"I'm fine, I promise," you tell him in the most sincere voice you can, kissing his cheek softly. "I told you, I was just feeling a little under the weather today. It's not a big deal."

"You didn't eat again today," he states, no hint of a question in his tone. You're in too much shock to begin defending your reasoning for skipping a meals when he adds, "You've been missing meals a lot lately, haven't you?"

You nod, suddenly feeling caught which makes you feel both guilty and embarrassed. Bucky is the one person on the team you have always been able to confide in, even before you started dating but this was something you wanted to keep even from him. It was the reason you forced yourself to eat when you went on dates with him but you always found a way to excuse yourself and use the bathroom soon after. Had he noticed that too, you worry.

"How long do you think you can go without eating?" he asks but you don't want to admit you know the answer. Since college, you've developed a pretty good sense for how long you can go between meals, today truly had been a miscalculation. Instead you simply shrug as you guage whether or not you can convince Bucky you missed those meals by accident.

"Y/N," he says when you are quiet. "You can't keep doing this."

You chew the inside of your cheek, this conversation reminding you too much of the one you had with your parents the first time they caught you hiding and throwing away your food. Your eyes flicker away from his and back as you start to realize you might be struggling more than you thought.

His jaw tightens and his gaze follows yours to the scale and mirror then he sighs. "I should throw those stupid things out," he says, more to himself then to you.

"No," you respond quickly and he furrows his brows when he looks back at you. "I need them," you try to explain, your body tensing at the thought of being without them even though they do nothing but cause you anxiety and distress. "I have to keep checking..." your voice trails off, you don't want to open up any further. You don't want Bucky you judge you.

"Checking what?" Bucky asks, hoping you will let him in.

"I have to keep checking my weight," you finish and you find yourself suddenly unable to hold the rest in. "I've always been just a little over from where I need to be with my weight." You look down at your body as you sit next to him, you can easily envision all the flaws you saw in the mirror this morning. "I'll get there, I'm close," you tell him as if he's the one you need to convince and not the small voice that dictates what you can and cannot eat.

You had been focused on your weight for almost your whole adult life and never reached your target. It doesn't matter that the target keeps shrinking anytime you are even remotely close. A few times, you had almost reached the number you thought would finally mean you were perfect only for the small voice to disagree. It would insist you could still lose more weight or you had put on too much muscle or needed more muscle or any number of things. Each time your goal changed, your eating habits became stricter and your workouts became more intense.

Bucky cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin lightly, "What are you talking about? You're in the best shape of anyone on the team. You're perf-"

"No," you shake your head, pulling free from his fingers. "I'm far from perfect, you of all people should know that. You're a super soldier, you were practically built to be perfect," you tell him and Bucky's metal hand twiches as he removes it from your waist. "I knew you wouldn't understand," you add with deep a sigh.

"I want to understand. I'm worried about you," Bucky says but you don't look at him.

"You don't need to worry about me," you say, shifting away from him on the bed. You feel yourself becoming defensive and worried he will want you to stop checking your weight and eat more. "I'm fine, I told you. Why can't you just leave it alone?"

"Because you're not fine," he says, his voice raising a bit to show his frustration, not at you but with the situation. "You don't eat, Y/N, not nearly enough and I've seen the way you push yourself too hard when we train. I kept telling myself you knew what you were doing and you would stop if you needed to but then today..." he shakes his head as his voice trails off for a moment.

"Today was an accident," you insist but you're less sure of yourself then you had been. "I have it under control. If I had known about the mission beforehand, I wouldn't have gotten sick."

"You didn't get sick, you passed out," he says and you can see he's becoming more upset by the conversation and the fact that you will not listen to him. "What if that had happened in the middle of the mission? What if we had been somewhere more dangerous and I couldn't get to you? You've gone on solo missions, no one would have known what happened to you."

You get up quickly, needing to distance yourself from Bucky's questions and concern and the doubt they are creating in you. You pace around your room, trying to absorb his words but you don't want to believe he's right. You don't want to admit that you're not okay again.

Without realizing it, you walk towards your mirror and tap the scale with your foot. Bucky gets up, coming over to you but your eyes are fixed on the scale. You tap it again and it turns on, the zeros blinking slowly as you remember the number that stared at you this morning.

"I get that your worried about your weight-" he starts but you cut him off.

"Of course I'm worried about it," you look up, folding your arms around your body tightly. "You have no idea how easy it is to gain weight, one little slip and I could lose all my progress. I have to watch everything I eat and workout so I can be good enough to be here, so I can be perfect," you voice your inner thoughts to Bucky for the first time. "I can't just stop," you tell him.

He moves closer to you, removing the empty space you created between the two of you and you begin to feel nervous again. "I want you to be healthy," he takes your hand in his, pulling you away from the scale.

"So do I, that's why I need to do this," you argue but you feel defeated, as if you are only moments from admitting you know he is right.

He shakes his head, his metal arm rests on your lower back, pulling you closer to him. "What you're doing is the opposite of being healthy, doll. Can you see that?"

You look up at him, seeing the concern fill his eyes and you know you can't deny it any longer. You bite your lip and nod slowly, "I think I need help."

"I'm here doll," he responds softly.

"This isn't-" you struggle to find the words and he gives you time, holding you quietly. "This isn't the first time this has happened," you tell him honestly. Bucky holds you silently as you tell him about your struggles with your eating disorder and how you have relapsed previously after getting treatment. He doesn't ask questions or interrupt you, his hand moves gently up and down your back as you open up completely. When you finish, he wipes your tears softly and kisses your forehead.

"I thought I was okay," you tell him, your voice breaking. He pulls you flush against his body, wrapping his arms around you.

"You will be," he assures you and you rest your head on his chest, hoping he is right. "You are the strongest person I have ever met, you can do this. I will help you any way I can, I promise."

You pull away to look up at him, realizing you'll be gone for at least a few months for treatment. "What am I going to tell everyone?" you ask him, feeling a wave of shame wash over you. It was one thing to break down and admit to Bucky that you had an eating disorder but it was an entirely different thing for the Avengers to find out. "I don't want the team to know," you shake your head, worried about their reactions.

He cups your cheek and you look up at him again, "Don't worry about the team or anything else, doll. I will take care of them and everything else. The only thing I want you to do is focus on getting better, on being healthy again." He gives you a hopeful smile and says, "I'll tell them we're going to visit your family. Fury will approve the time off, it shouldn't be an issue."

You sniffle in response then smile slowly, "We?"

He nods, "If that's okay with you. I know there are things you'll need to do alone, but I want to be close, in case you need me. I want to be there for you, every step of the way."

You wipe a tear quickly with the back of your hand and nod, unable to express how much Bucky's offer means to you in words. Instead, you reach up and press your lips to his softly, holding onto him tightly. Pulling away slightly, you look into his eyes and tell him, "I love you."

He smiles, running his fingers through your hair gently, his metal arm still holding you close. "I love you too, Y/N. You will be okay, I promise you will get through this."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @mochie85 @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lulubelle814 @siconetribal @jiyascepter @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @dracoswhorexx @lokiandbuckysdoll

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: After years of being split apart from your group, due to being taken and relocated by the Saviors, you run in to not only one familiar face, but specifically, the one you were searching for this whole time.

Warnings: strong language, apocalypse setting, swearing, mentions of knives, guns, bows, other weapons, mentions of killing (both humans and zombies), some descriptive text, reader gets taken by the saviors, mentions of scars, fighting, AGE GAP - friends to lovers, reader likes Daryl, Daryl hides the fact that he likes reader, some flirting, nothing too spicy lol

Word count: 4.9k | not edited also my first Daryl fic so be nice :)

A/N - I’m writing this for me, yes, but I’m also this for the ones who have a problem, I mean… are attracted to men old enough to be their father, so please do NOT read if age gap relationships make you uncomfortable! This also is more or less my version of the walking dead, the group meets Negan, but not like in the show.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

ＦＩＶＥ • ＹＥＡＲＳ • ＡＧＯ

There was no denying that you were Daryl’s favorite person to go on runs with, anyone that just showed up could tell you that.

You were fast. Efficient. Very get in and get out type of girl. You didn’t fuck around, and Daryl loved that - but he’d never tell you that himself.

He also swore to never tell you that he wanted you around him because you made him happy in ways that he didn’t really like to talk about.

You were like a breath of fresh air to him, you picked up what he liked and what he didn’t like almost right away, you were one of the very few people that he didn’t get tired of being around all the time, hence why you join him every time he goes on a run.

He wasn’t much of a talker, the very first two runs together, you got a few mumbles out of him, mainly telling you where to go and when to look out.

But, that was until your third run of many run with Daryl. It would be silent, and he would almost scare you with just talking outright.

It wasn’t more than a, ‘how’s your day?’

Or maybe a, ‘ya sleep last night? Y’look tired’

You would always give him a quick, straight to the point response, ‘tossed and turned all night, might need a new blanket or somethin’

Or you would tease him slightly with something along the lines of, ‘Days better now that I’m out runnin’ around with my bestie.’

He says he hated when you called him that, but he would always chuckle and try to hide his smile by pointing out something ahead.

You would go with it, rolling your eyes subtly before you squint, “Daryl, I think you’re seeing things.” You look over at him, “or you’re just scared to talk to me.”

He’d scoff, “Ain’t scared of nothin’, darlin’.”

All you could do was smile and look away, mainly to hide the red on your cheeks from being spotted.

It really wasn’t that Daryl was scared, it was just, as slightly embarrassing as he thinks, he didn’t know how to talk to you.

He would always try to remind himself that you aren’t this delicate little flower, you can handle yourself. If you couldn’t, he would have never stumbled upon you.

You both would keep moving, not really stopping unless a walker or something came out of the tree line. The more runs you added to the list, the more you realized that you were patient enough to wait on him.

You really did have all the time in the world.

Were you also young and twenty one years old? Sure. But in this world, you’d always like to think, What’s it matter, really?

You had to roll with what you found, and you got lucky that day Daryl found you under a fallen tree - long story short, he helped you out and as soon as he knew your name, he couldn’t help but want to bring you home with him.

And that’s what he did.

Daryl has also spoken, well, more or less make comments to Rick about the girl from the woods. He’d beat around the bush as his eyes followed you across the way, watching as Carol showed you around, “y’know that girl I brought in?”

Rock would nod, “Y/n?”

A smirk would play sure Daryl’s lips as he replays you taking out two walkers at the same time, “Little young, though. Ain’t she?”

Rick shook his head, giving Daryl’s shoulder a squeeze as he stood up, “You deserve what ever makes you happy, Daryl. We make our own rules now.”

——

“There was a convenient store on the corner of one of these roads.” You look at Daryl then glancing behind you, “I figured.. if we don’t find it today.” You glance back and then forward, “We can try and hit it another day.”

“Would ya stop fuckin’ doin’ that?” He looks behind you and then at you, “really freakin’ me out today, y/n. What’s goin’ on with ya?”

“Sorry.” You sigh, shaking your head, “I just have this really weird feeling like we should have just stayed back today.”

“You wanna go back?” Daryl stops as you take a few steps ahead before turning around. He nods back, “We’re not that far away, if y’feel safer goin’ back-“

“I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“I’m not goin’ back.” Daryl was stubborn, but so were you, “Then so am I.”

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head as he nudges you with his elbow, indicating you to walk with him. You turn, staying a little bit closer to Daryl as you make your way down the road.

About an hour away, you stand up from the last of the boxes in a semi fallen down shed, “Nothing.” You turn to Daryl and he shakes his head, “Got the same over here.”

“No where?” You look around the room and he shrugs, “should prolly just head back, it’s gonna get dark here soon.”

The weird feeling you had from earlier returns and you sigh, “Not to be annoying, but I can’t shake this feeling.”

Daryl clenches his jaw, “Alright, it’s alright.” He picks up his crossbow, “C’mon now.”

It’s the way Daryl makes your heart warm with the simple, nonchalant ways he makes sure you’re okay, trying to make sure you’re calm without actually letting you know that that is what he’s doing, but you know.

You’ve come to know Daryl better than anyone in the few short months you’ve been at Alexandria.

“Did somethin’ happen or, what?” Daryl asks as he glances over at you, trying to keep up with your slightly faster pace.

You shrug, “I just feel like something is going to happen, Daryl.” You look over at him, “Something bad.”

——

Your feeling was proven to be worth something because the moment you entered through the gates, you were gunned down, Daryl, too.

“Gimme your guns.” A tall man says in a sing-songy tone as he bends down, looking you right in your face, “And your cross bow.” He looks over to Daryl and Daryl wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

The man stands up, walking over to lean down in Daryl’s face, “Now.”

“Y/n. Do it.” Rick says catching your attention. Only your eyes move towards Rick, hands up as a gun is pointed right next to his temple, “Daryl. You, too.”

“I’d listen to your boss man, alright. I don’t feel like killing anyone today, which is..” the man tilts his head, scratching at his temple, “Odd, but anyone. Consider this your one time act of kindness because I can promise you, from here on out, ain’t gonna be purdy.”

You tilt your head, taking your gun from your shoulder and laying it down. You take your pistol and set it down next to the rifle, “That’s all I have.”

“Mm.” The man tilts his head, “I don’t believe you.” He grips your bicep hard, causing you to yelp as he yanks you forward and onto your feet.

“Let her fuckin’ go!” Daryl yells, and you know he’s already trying to get up, but the moment you get to look back, there’s a gun in his face, blocking his view of you.

You’re thrown up against the side of the old and dusty moving truck, groaning as your head ricochetes off the side with a thump, “Fuck, ow!”

You bring your hand up, pulling it away to see red when you feel a wetness on your skin.

“You mother fu-“ Daryl starts to yell, but the man puts a gun to your temple, “I’m just trying to do my job, now shut the fuck up or I’ll really give you something to fucking yell about.”

You keep your eyes on Daryl, watching as his eyes quickly move between you and the man holding you hostage.

“I’ll keep it professional.” He taps your shoulder, “Arat. Come check her for weapons.”

You were scared shitless.

You didn’t want to die, or anyone else to die.

Who are these people, you thought as the woman behind you slid her hands roughly over your body, “Simon. This is her.”

You head shot up as Simon, supposedly, laughs, “No fucking way.” He steps back, “Negan is going to love this.”

“Who’s Negan?” Rick asks and Simon turns around slowly to look at Rick, arms spreading out to his sides slowly, “We’re all Negan.”

Simon points to you with his thumb, “Load her up.”

The uproar that happens within your people is instant and there’s a shot fired into the air, making you flinch.

“That’s e-fuckin’-nuff.” Simon yells, “The girl is coming with us, and there’s-“ he raises his voice, “Nothing you can do about it.”

He walks you back to the truck, motioning with his gun for you to get in.

You take one last look at Daryl before you start to get in, heading Simon chuckle as he sighs, “Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t. We’ll be back with more orders. Until then, stay the fuck here or more we will kill your beloved.. whatever she is to you.”

Simon looks at Daryl, “You got that Robin Hood?”

Daryl holds his heated stare onto him and that’s the last thing you see before the door shuts.

——

“Well, well, fuckin’ well. What do we have here?” A deep voice boasts from behind you. You wiggle your wrists and close your eyes, feeling a presence move around you to your front.

You open your eyes and you’re met with a rugged dude in a leather jacket, a baseball bat that’s wrapped in barbed wire tightly secured in his fist, “You must be the girl who knows her way around those dead fucks out there.”

“What are you talking about?” You look up, eyes meeting the tall, older man and he just chuckles, “A few of my men saw you take on a group, I dunno, five or six deep..” he points to you with each word, “..All. on. your. own.”

You shrug, “I’ve been out there a while.”

“And how longs a while, sweetheart?” The man asks, squatting down in front of you.

“Two years with a group, three on my own.” You say quietly, your brain reminding you about the night had no other choice but to go off on your own.

“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head, “You hearin’ this shit, Simon?”

“Arat said it was her. I can get Gavin to confirm, too.” Simon answers and the man nods, standing up to pull a chair over in front of you, “If I untie you, you promise you’ll play nice?”

You were disgusted. You wanted to go home.

You wanted Daryl. You wanted Daryl more than anything.

You nod, hands gripping the arm rests as his knife slides between your skin and the rope, flicking the blade upward to get it to cut open.

He repeats it to the other side and leans back, “You seem like you have a pretty name.” He tilts his head, fingers rubbing over the stubble on his chin, “Do you have a pretty name, sweetheart?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” The man repeats in a whisper, “Damn. That is pretty.” He shakes his head, smirking as his eyes take in your, very nervous figure sitting in the chair, “Look.”

The man leans forward, “I’ll tell you this, alright.” You keep your eyes off of him, which seemed to upset him. His voice grew louder and his hand reached up to tightly grip your chin, “Look. At. Me. When I am talking to you.”

You force your eyes to his and he picks up speaking where he stopped, “You’re a little spit fire out there, okay. Which mean, you’re a delicacy to your little asshole groupies back at that shithole, what was it called? Alex- some for bullshit?”

“Alexandria.” You mumble out, keeping your eyes on his. He tilts his head back, his hand still gripping your chin, “Oh, oh. Right. Yes. Alexandria.”

The door behind you opens and the man drops his hand, “Gavin, my man. I need you to tell me if this is the girl you say in the woods a few weeks ago.”

The man stands up, spinning the chair around for, presumed, Gavin to see you. His eyes move over your body, “Does she have a tattoo or some sort of mark on the back of her left arm?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“When she lifted her arm, it-“

“Lift your arm for me, sweetheart.” The man spins you towards him and you have no other choice but to oblige, you strongly feel that the other choice is death, which you can not allow to happen now.

You pull your shirt sleeve up and the man scoffs, “Bing-fucking-o.” The man shakes his head, “Get a team together, we’re going to meet the people of Alexandria earlier than expected.”

He looks to you, “Take her up to a room. A good room. She hasn’t done anything to not deserve it yet.” He winks at you and you look down as you feel a hand grab your bicep to lift you to your feet.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

You stop, turning to look at the man with the baseball bat resting on his shoulder, “Who are you?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He walks over, tilting his head as he looks down at you, “I’m Negan.”

——

Your first day here was scary. You cried yourself to sleep, worried both about Daryl and the rest of Alexandria.

By the next morning, You were itching to get out, constantly looking for a way to escape, but they had so many people, no matter where you looked, you had eyes on you at all times.

To your surprise, the last week you spent with what you heard them call themselves, The Saviors, wasn’t in a stone cell like you pictured them doing the second you left that room on the first day.

You really didn’t know why.

You kill zombies, big deal. Doesn’t everyone else on this fucked up planet?

“Come with me, honey pie.” Simon says as he pulls you along with him, “Your time to shine.”

You’re taken outside, squinting at the brightness of the sun shining down from above. You couldn’t help but take a deep breathe, it’s the first time you’ve been outside in days.

“Get in and scoot over.” Simon commands and you climb up into the truck, your eyes meeting Negan’s as he steps up to sit into the passengers seat.

You don’t say a word to him. You just face forward as Simon smooshes you between him and Negan as he closes the door.

“So you and Robin Hood, huh?” Simon asks, referring to Daryl. You shake your head in response.

“Listen, sweetie. One thing we do around here, is answer people questions, with the words we learned how to speak. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” You say, clearing your throat, “No, me and.. Robin Hood are not a thing.”

“Seems to care about you like he does. You catch onto that Negan? The way he wanted to rip your throat out yesterday?” Simon chuckles, “Aw the look in his, man. I tell you what though, if looks could kill, you would have been dead.”

“Gonna have to take more than a nasty look to kill me.” Negan chuckles deeply, “Oh looky here.” He points, looking over at you as he sings, “honey.. we’re home.”

Your heart was racing as you seen Rosita motion to open the gate.

You watch her face shift into a shocked look when she caught glimpse of you through the windshield.

As you drive in, coming to a stop, you already see Daryl, front and center with Rick.

“C’mon.” Simon motions to you and you slide over, allowing him to help you down before you follow him around the truck. He pulls you closer to him, the click sending a shiver down your spine.

“Alright. Here’s the deal. You all want your badass, Duffy the zombie slayer black, but I don’t know.” Negan glances back at you, “She could be useful to me.”

You see Rick tighten his grip on Daryl’s vest and you send him a loving look.

“That thought didn’t even cross my mind, but you know what, how about this, If you want y/n back, give us half of your food today, and I want, we’ll make it easy.. ten guns by next week.”

“T-ten guns?” Rick asks baffled, “by next week? Negan that’s.. don’t you think that’s a little impossible?”

“Fine, make it fifteen by Friday, or you can say goodbye to the only chance you all actually have at surviving.” Negan points to you, “As you can she, she’s alive and well, now.”

Negan motions to the truck, “Let’s go.”

You shake your head and Simon grabs your arm roughly and you pull back, letting your fear get the best of you, “No, please. Nono, please no! No!”

Your pleads only set everyone on your side off, yelling and trying to push past the wall of Saviors.

Knives are drawn and you’re held to Negan’s chest, “Listen here! I make the rules. I have something you want and now, you’re going to go off and fuckin’ get me what I want. I’m done negotiating.”

“Negan, please. Just let y/n stay an I pro-“

Negan cuts Rick off, “You promise what, Rick? Huh? You already doubted yourselves with getting ten-“ He gasps, “Sorry, I mean fifteen by next Friday.”

He laughs, shaking his head, sighing as he brings his bat, Lucille, next for your face, “what makes you think you can handle the load of getting this thing here back.”

Daryl’s eyes squint as Negan calls you, this thing.

You swallow, glancing around.

You can take on six walkers, but not this many saviors, the walkers didn’t have rifles pointed at the people you’ve come to love and care for.

“Why are-“ Negan scoffs, “Why are we even still discussing this? You know what. Fine.” He pushes you to the back of the truck and you stumble, silently begging for help.

“If you’re going to cause this big of a fuss instead of just doing as I say..” Negan looks at you, “Then no one can.”

He shrugs, pointing Lucille at the open back, “Get in, or I kill someone.”

——

Ｐ Ｒ Ｅ Ｓ Ｅ Ｎ Ｔ • Ｄ Ａ Ｙ

You held your breath as you pushed your back up against the tree, waiting for the stray walker to move past you, knife at the ready just in case.

You slip around the tree, opposite way from the dead before you continue your journey through the woods.

It’s been, almost five years since you were left stranded in the middle of god knows where by Negan and his Saviors.

You weren’t even sure if they were still a thing or not, but jokes on them, you’re still alive.

And you’re full of fight.

You stopped at the river, bending down to feel the cool water on your fingertips. You’ve been walking all day, and you just needed to take a second.

You look up, taking in the scenery for a few moments before it all starts to becomes, familiar.

You stand up, looking around as your heart starts to pound. You shake your head, laughing slightly as you bend down to grab your bag.

If this is the river you were thinking of, then this river runs directly past your grandfathers cabin, and you can only hope that if Daryl was alive and out there looking for you, that he comes this way.

He should know about this, you stumbled upon it while on a run the one day. You remember about it, but all you knew was that it was next to the river that looked really pretty when the sun was setting, and it still does.

You only had about two hours of sunlight left, and you didn’t know how far you had to go yet, or even if you were going in the right direction.

If this cabin was here, maybe you could finally get a decent nights sleep, that is if it isn’t destroyed by walkers and the storms that plow through.

“I’m going to go get some more firewood.” A woman’s voice sounds through the trees. You stop, moving, furrowing your brows as you try and listen, but she’s already moving, walking away from the small building.

Your cabin.

You feel like you could throw up.

You turn around, trying to see if you can get a glimpse of who she was talking, too, but nothing.

“Raise your hands and turn around slowly.”

You whip around, catching her off guard before her face settles, “Holy shit.” Carol laughs slightly, “Daryl is going to lose his mind.”

She pulls you into a hug and you hear her sniffle, “oh my god, look at you.” She leans back, hands sliding over your hand and down your face, “You grew up.”

You smile slightly, your mind going back to who’s in the cabin, “Is he in there?”

“Every chance he got.” She shakes her head, “So much has happened.” You see the pain in her eyes but you opt to keep things happy right now, “we can talk later. I want to see Daryl first.”

She nods, brushing hair from your face, “Im so happy you found your way back.”

“It was hell, but right now, totally worth it.” You take a deep breath, “You go in first.”

She nods, walking a head of you as she leads you back towards the cabin, “Hey Daryl.” Carol calls as she smaller back at you, “I found something that you’re going to want to see.”

You stand by the fire, the glow illuminates you as you stand there waiting to see his face for the very first time in five years.

The feelings you had, never went away.

“What’d ya fi-“ His face falls and his arms go limp by his sides as he shakes his head, “No fuckin’ way.”

Tears well up in your eyes as Daryl slowly steps down off the porch, “No fuckin’ way.” He looks at Carol and back to you before quickly making his way over to you.

“Where the hell ya been?” He grabs you, pulling you into his chest tight, “I thought you were dead, I-.” He leans back, looking over your slightly older looks.

“Negan told us that he watched you get attacked by walkers.” Carol chimes in, finishing what Daryl couldn’t, “He brought back your necklace, there was blood on it.. we didn’t..”

You keep your hands on Daryl, your fingers moving under the sleeve of his jacket, “Negan snapped that necklace off my neck before they dumped me in the middle of nowhere.”

Daryl scoffs, pulling you closer to rest his chin on your head. Carol smiles as she watches the affectionate radiate off of him.

“They drove me way past the city, too. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they drugged me or something because I was out for most of the trip.”

You feel Daryl’s grip tighten with your words and you shake your head, laying a hand on his bicep, “So much happened.”

You think back to all the stuff you had to do just to make it back to here, cringing at yourself.

“Ya hungry?” Daryl asks changing the subject and you nod, “Starving.”

——

Since the minute you found them, Daryl hasn’t left your side, and Dog right by his.

You were able to handle the news of the deaths and destruction among your group and homes, it hurt to hear, but it’s better that you know how than walking in expecting everything to be all sunshine and rainbows.

ou cried, but there was one question you needed the answer to.

“Are the Savior’s gone?” You looked up at Carol as she looks to Daryl. Your attention moves to him and he nods, “Ah, yeah. Yeah. But..”

“What?”

“Negan is at Alexandria.”

You’re on your feet, “What.”

“It’s only tem-“

You turn, walking away from Carol as she tries to explain, but you walk over to a tree, pressing your hand into it.

As you take a few deep breathes, you feel someone walking up to you, “I just need a minute.” You tilt your head, closing your eyes as you swallow the feeling of wanting to puke away.

“S’alot to process.” Daryl mumbles, unsure of what to do, “Take your time.”

Do you resent him now?

Are you going to leave again?

He wanted you to know everything, but he wouldn’t have if that meant you leaving again.

“Daryl?” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks, “Sorry I just..” he shakes his head, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Leave you again?” You laugh slightly, letting out a sigh, “Why would you think that I’d leave you? I’ve been looking for you.”

“I haven’t stopped. I came here because I-“

You smirk slightly, “Because you actually paid attention to your bestie?”

He gives you a small smirk, shoulders heaving as he laughs ever so slightly, “You’ve changed..” Daryl brushes his hand over your hair, his thumb gently brushing over your face, His brows furrow, “when did you get this?”

His finger brushes over the scar on your top lip, “Did someone do this t’you?”

“One of those assholes that pushed me out of the car, hit my face on a rock.” You shake your head, “It’s just a scar, Daryl.”

Which was one of many you have received.

“Sorry I-“

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” You shake your head, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, okay.”

All he does is nod but you frown slightly, “Have I ever told you that I liked you?”

“I don’t think you’d come on runs with me if ya didn’t.” Daryl looks at you and you tilt your head, “No, like..” you bite your lip and sigh.

He laughs slightly, “M’old enough to be your daddy, y/n.” You smirk up at him, getting ready to say something but he pulls you towards him, “Watch out.”

Natural instinct, you have your knife in your hand within a second and you both swing around, the blades of your knives entering the dead’s skull in unison.

You look at the knives and back to Daryl, “Either way I look at it.” You pull your knife from the walker, “You and I will always have unfinished business to take care of.”

Daryl shakes his head as he withdrawals his knife, “You think?”

You lay your hand on his chest, “I know.”

You couldn’t let yourself feel what you’ve pushed through, but both Carol and Daryl can see that.

“Hi, boy.” You bend down to pet Dog, your shirt riding up to reveal a slightly bigger scar than on your lip. Daryl’s eyes fixate on it right away and he clenches his jaw.

Before he can ask, you stand up, “You fix up everything?”

“Yeah, go take a look.” Daryl sniffles and walks towards Carol as you walk into the cabin. Memories of growing up here flood through, almost breaking that barrier until Dog pushes between your legs, whining as he trots in.

“Do you need anything?” Carol asks walking up beside you. You shake your head, hesitating to look over at her at first, “No, no. I’m good.”

“We can head back to Alexandria in the morning.” She rubs your back, “It’s really good to have you back.”

You smile, nodding, “It’s really nice to not be alone.”

“What happened out there?”

You shake your head sluggishly, “I don’t-“

“Okay.” She says quickly as Daryl walks in. You look up at him, “I think I’m going to go lay down.” You walk over to where your bag is and sit down.

You bring your knees to your chest, eyes focusing on Dog as he glows in the light of the fire.

A few moments later, Daryl’s footsteps move closer to you. He stays silent as he moves to sit next to you. He brings his arm out, laying it around your back as he pulls you into his side.

You immediately fall into him, your head on his chest, arm around his torso. He inches back, just enough to lean against the wall for support.

Daryl looked down at you, gently playing with strands of your now long hair, it was just a little past your shoulders when you were separated.

You lost weight from having to scavenge for any food that was safe to eat.

He knew what you went through was tormenting you, he just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone.

“Look at me, y/n.”

You roll over into your back, head in his lap as you stare up at him.

“When you’re ready to tell someone, m’here f’ya.”

You close your eyes as his hand strokes over your hair. You haven’t felt this safe in a while, so you were just trying to soak it all in without having to worry every single second of the day and most nights.

“I love you.” Daryl whispers, “Should’ve told you that years ago.”

“It’s about time you say those words to me, Daryl Dixon.” You sit up, keeping your chest on his arm as you lean in, “I love you.”

——

I started to hate this towards the end but I NEEDED to get this off of my chest. I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love you so much. Thank you for reading! 🖤

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[buntanteen]

boyfriend!jeonghan headcanons (sfw & nsfw)

summary: hannie as a boyfriend (romantic and sexual partner) towards reader headcanons :) can be read separately or as a part of upcoming the poly!jihan hcs

contains: 18+ nsfw (mdni!!) reader is on the receiving end of penetration.

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

you'll never know which boyfriend!jeonghan you're going to get😌the silly goofy sulky one? the completely love struck one who will do anything for you? the absolute tease? a silly gremlin? a sulky clingy guy?

you having a pet rock too (so doljjong isn’t lonely kjfgbdk). you make sure to send boyfriend!jeonghan pics of your kids together when he’s away!! they always feature in the pictures of your at home breakfasts and dinners~ if you can’t bring them with you, you make sure to do a ridiculous photoshop of them in the setting, just to make hannie laugh 🥰

to boyfriend!jeonghan, you will always be "yeobo" and "jagiya" (i can just hear him elongating the yaaaaaa). what even is your real name?🤷 he doesn’t know anymore

during aftercare, soft dom!jeonghan will be praising you and calling you “angel”. he becomes more and more convinced that you’re an angel

teaser!jeonghan loving to bite you. he’ll nip at your neck and soothes the pain over with his tongue. he’ll give lil kisses to the fully formed hickeys littered across your neck, chest and thighs  

boyfriend!jeonghan being completely enamoured when you’re playful with him. he’ll be tracing around your lips and when u nip at his fingers. he does that jeonghan "ah!" of his and starts sulking, you apologise by giving a kiss to his finger, his palm, his wrist and trail up to his face…he'll be melting hehe

it is a must 😤to give boyfriend!jeonghan lil pecks on his cheeks when he does that closed eyes content smile of his. he’ll always giving you the gentlest kisses on the cheek back

cockwarming teaser!jeonghan is one of his favourite activities with you. cuz he gets to be close to you??? and have you wrapped around him?? and gets to do what he wants whilst making u whine?? sign him up 😌😌

when he’s cold, boyfriend!jeonghan will link your arms with his and hold hands. the moment he hits you with one of his 🥺, you’ll shove your intertwined hands into your jacket pocket where a prepared heat packet lays to keep both your fingers from freezing

on the other hand, boyfriend!jeonghan put his cold ass hands or feet on you <3 he just loves to hear your whine and sulk and pout~

soft dom!jeonghan who gets worn out easily, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make his baby to feel so so good. makes you ride his cock to pleasure yourself, guiding your hips with his hands. he loves this the most because the visual off you getting off because of him is insane (and partially cuz he wants u to work for it…)

our little mastermind boyfriend!jeonghan will cheat when playing games with you. but will cheat FOR you when y’all are playing with others. he has pushed the other members over, tickled them, distracted them, bribed them and yoinked away their controllers so you win first place in mario cart 😌

boyfriend!jeonghan who pinches and pats your butt before sliding his hand in your back pocket. looks innocently and giggles at your :| face

teaser!jeonghan loves loves loves to tease you. loves slapping his hard cock against your hole and rubbing it against it…the reactions you give are so addicting

boyfriend!jeonghan having an obsession with your thighs. when you're sitting side by side, he’ll swing your legs over onto his lap and playing with your thighs. just absent minded running his hands up and down your legs whilst scrolling on his phone

loves listening to your pretty noises while teaser!jeonghan has your legs spread apart and a vibrator against you. wants you whining and writhing for as long as he can 🥰

finding boyfriend!jeonghan’s ability to adapt to situations and still get his desired outcome so fucking hot. he’ll notice you nearly drooling when you’re visiting the gose set and wink at you

driving home after filming and teasing teaser!jeonghan grinding against his hand but not letting him have his gaze on you? absolute torture for him.  telling him “eyes on the road, baby. don’t you want to get home faster? 🥺”

boyfriend!jeonghan who'll pull away from a kiss and intentionally move away more to see you move closer to his lips. likes to see how far he can move back before you catch on. “you want me that much, huh?” “nvm :/” “WAIT NO”

boyfriend!jeonghan who is your island when times get rough. he is the constant waterfall that lulls into a slow-paced stream. he is your place of solitude and safety

ames' songs recs: boyfriend by yeonjun, raise y_our glass by huh yunjin, the astronaut by jin, love me back by fromis_9, to you by seventeen, our summer by txt, just one day by bts, love maze by bts, love me twice by huh yunjin & luv in skool by bts

ames note: hi everyoneee, it has been a while!! i wanted to get this done sooner but decided to release it on hannie's enlistment day as a distraction from the feelingsss. he'll come home safely and soon!! the time flies by super quickly~ <3 take care of yourselves, we have so much to look forward to ^^

this was originally going to be my first time writing something...ever but the fwb!mingyu one came out first hah. then the cockwarming dilf!mingyu... then the joshua boyfriend headcanons... i remember trying to write smth for loki over 5 years ago so its lowkey (HAH) full circle that i wrote about svt's loki. i hope y'all enjoyed~ i'll be working on a jeonghan fic rec list before the jihan poly headcanon comes out!! <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[mamaestapa]

J. Burrow Masterlist

• welcome to the jungle

• daddy issues

• sick day

• welcome home

•all for the gram

• our little peanut

• jealousy, jealousy

• “we’re her favorite uncles”

• sweet as sugar (SMUT)

• bedtime stories

• closer (SMUT)

• lover

• media day

• mans best friend

• my girl

• passenger princess

• wrong number

• winter wonderland

• the best vacation yet

• take your son to work day

• forever and always

• rough night

• if i seem shy, it’s cause you seem so shiesty

• pauses, then says, you’re my best friend

• all grown up

• the best news ever

• missing the baby bliss

• we didn’t think you’d be back

• daddy daughter day

• joe’s good luck charms

• fourth times a charm

• happy turkey day

• baby’s first thanksgiving

• baked with love

• have yourself a merry little christmas

• frosting looks better on you

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)