#(I'm glad if you -reader- enjoyed them! I envy that you did!)

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Stars in the Dark

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected p in v, emergency contraceptives, slight alcohol consumption, reader is strong (minor description)

Summary: You're a former farm hand at the Greene Farm. You swoon over the new hunter, and he notices.

Notes: This was one of the first requests I got and I'm so sorry it took me this long to put it out! I hope you're still around anon, and you enjoy.

It was an unusually cool day. 

You sat on the front porch of the Greene house, watching as the strangers that were slowly becoming friends did their daily chores. Carol sat in the center of their camp, scrubbing clothes in a bucket next to Lori, who was hanging them up to dry. Andrea sat on the top of the RV, switching between her gun scope and her binoculars to observe the tree line. There was a man beside her, the one that was with Otis when he died, was his name Shawn? Shane?

It was hard to remember their names, there were so many of them.

But you didn't have trouble remembering Daryl’s name. Especially considering how often you would whimper it into your pillow at night. 

You felt your cheeks heat up at the idea of him, your legs switching from being crossed at your ankles to your knees, the rocking chair beneath you swaying slightly. 

Your eyes drifted to the man you'd been thinking of, watching as he walked back to the camp for lunch after spending the morning hunting. You'd been seeing more of him, especially after the whole incident with the walkers in the barn, something not even you had known about. You knew they were there, sure, but you had no idea the little girl they were looking for had been in there the whole time. 

The Greene family had kept it from you for a while. You had gone to school with Maggie, Hershel's daughter, and she was able to get you a spring job working at her farm with the horses and cattle. They were even kind enough to let you have their spare bedroom downstairs near the back door. It was tiny, but it was free lodging, and you loved it. 

That spring job turned into a summer job once the infection started. Hershel had done a pretty good job convincing you of his beliefs. You had little medical experience, mostly just patching up animals at the farm, especially the barn cat PeePoe, but you liked to believe Hershel knew what he was talking about. Even if it seemed a little farfetched. So, you kept their secret and minded your own business. 

You were sort of glad Shane forced the whole thing to happen. The walkers in the barn were starting to really creep you out, especially with how much they began to rot over time. 

The movement of two people sneaking around to the back of the house caught your eye and you saw Maggie and Glenn, something you'd grown accustomed to. She had a big smile, full of excitement and nervousness, and Glenn just looked thrilled to be there. You watched as they disappeared to the back workshop and felt envy bubble in your stomach. 

The sound of that familiar gruff voice that you'd gotten really good at imagining at night startled you. You looked up and away from beside you, your mouth slightly open in surprise, not having heard him walk up on the porch. 

“Hi?” You looked up at him, awkward and embarrassed from your earlier thoughts. You weren't used to seeing him so up close. He smelled like cigarettes and something else, something artificial, and when you saw him chewing something you realized it was the very faint scent of bubblegum. 

“Patricia said you knew the shops in town. Can't find Glenn, and we need supplies for dinner tonight.” His eyes held little emotion, a bit of annoyance maybe. Annoyance at having to ask you, or annoyance at having to go into town instead of Glenn, you weren't sure. 

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded slowly, trying to keep the filthy thoughts from your head as your eyes raked over his face and upper body, catching yourself and quickly looking back up at his face. 

“Good. C'mon.” He didn't ask, he just slung his crossbow over his bloody ripped shirt, which you assumed was from the deer he had bagged that morning. 

Patricia had mentioned to you in passing about wanting to have another group dinner that night, you didn't expect it to actually happen, given how awkward the last one had been at first. With the weather slowly fading into autumn and the crops dying from age, you figured it was necessary to get some supplies from town. 

You didn't leave often. You didn't have a desire, or a need to, but the idea of being alone with Daryl had you almost skipping to his bike. 

As much as you wanted to push Daryl against the wall of the corner store and kiss him till he passed out, you didn't feel like getting humiliated from rejection. You settled for just watching him as he moved, picking up cans and turning them over before stuffing them in his burlap potato sack. 

The sight of his eyes flickering up over the aisle and landing right on yours snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You quickly looked down to your shelf, picking up a can of corn and pretending to be interested in the ingredients in it. Hmm, yes, Corn. 

He eyed you through suspicious slits, having a hard time deciding between being concerned or annoyed.

Daryl didn't know much about you at all. He knew your name, he knew you were younger than Maggie but older than Beth and that you were a newer farmhand. The only people that ever talked about you never really spoke to him.

He did know that you were way too hot to be working on a farm shoveling horse shit. You belonged in a fuckin magazine, one of those that fashion ones Amy used to read back at their first camp in Atlanta. You were fit, you had to be for your job, what you looked like before all the labor-intensive work, he didn't know or care. 

He'd never seen someone as hot as you in person. He couldn't even think of the words to describe you. You looked so out of place at that farm, it was like taking a supermodel and putting her in a gas station. He watched as you put food in your bag, trying not to get hard as his thoughts swiftly changed from admiring your beauty to imagining how you'd look when you came. 

Daryl thought about that way too much already. He thought about it so much that he was confident he was spot on with the image of you he created in his mind. Alone in his far-off tent at night, not having to worry about getting caught, rubbing his dick raw to the thought of you naked, drooling and crying from pleasure under him. 

“Okay, my bag’s full.” Your voice ripped him from his trance and he blinked a few times, realizing he'd been staring at the same can of peas for the past two minutes. 

“Yeah. Alright.” He swept his arm across his shelf, knocking several cans into his bag and two on the floor. You jumped at the sound and he cursed, his brain still not working right with all the blood that went to his dick. 

You peeked over the shelf to see two cans on the floor, one perfectly fine and the other surrounded in a gross pile of butter beans. No loss to you. Daryl snatched the can of diced tomatoes from the floor and put it in his bag, twisting it a few times before slinging it over the shoulder that didn't have the crossbow on it. 

“How the hell are we gonna get these back?” You asked as you walked out the front door, trying not to fall head over heels when he stuck back to hold the door open for you. You thought he was being chivalrous, he just wanted to stare at your ass in those Bobbie Brooks as you walked to his bike. 

“We'll figure it out.” 

And you did, sort of, but it was incredibly awkward with a bag pressed between the two of you on the bike, and the other tied to your torso so it sat behind you. Thankfully, he drove thoughtfully slowly, and you were able to get back to the farm without incident. 

You were happy to let the other women do the cooking, trying to pay attention to the rant Andrea was currently going on about how Lori loved her social norms. 

The wind had grown a bit cooler, sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as the breeze blew through your hair. 

“You ever cook?” Andrea said suddenly, a cautious edge to her voice as if she suddenly realized she had no idea how you felt about gender roles. “Or, like it, I mean?”

“Was more of an outdoor kind of girl.” You chuckled, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair around the fire you sat at. 

Daryl was chopping wood, something you'd never been so interested in before. Andreas' conversation was getting real, real boring. 

“Yeah. I liked fishing myself.” She grew silent after that, and you looked away from Daryl to see she had a far out look in her eyes.

“You okay?” You asked in a gentle voice, only earning a silent nod from her. You took that as your leave and gave her a comforting shoulder squeeze before heading inside. The sun would set in a few hours, and you wanted to change into warmer clothes before dinner. 

You didn't expect to have Daryl sit beside you at dinner. 

You didn't really expect him to come, let alone eat with the group. Last time he’d been stuck in the bed upstairs since he’d been shot by Andrea. You basically froze when you saw the seating arrangements.

 It wasn't really his choice, honestly, everyone sat down so fast, the only two seats that were open were right beside each other. Looked like no one wanted to sit next to Shane. And from the look on his face, you didn't really want to either.

Relief flooded through you when Daryl sat down next to Shane. You took your seat beside Daryl, Andrea on your right. You smiled at Patricia in front of you, only getting a small one in return. 

It wasn't as quiet or awkward as the last dinner. Spirits were a bit higher, although tense with the whole “prisoner in the barn” fiasco. You couldn't recall the name of the man that was currently chained up, but you did know Dale made a scene of fixing him a plate, much to Shane's objection. 

You tried to distract yourself from their bickering by looking at Daryl. A quick bolt of subdued adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he was already looking at you. You looked away almost immediately out of reflex, and deciding against your better judgment, you looked back. He was still looking at you. 

Daryl couldn't figure you out. If he had a bullet for how many times he caught you looking at him, he'd be able to kill every damn walker on earth. 

It never even crossed his mind you were into him before that night. It seemed so farfetched, you were too fuckin pretty to be looking at him like that. Your features were so soft, even after all the work that had toughened your muscles, your face was still so… 

Cute.

 He didn't notice the tugging that had pulled at the corner of his mouth until it was a full-fledged smirk. He was about to look away when he realized how creepy he probably looked, staring down at you smirking without speaking, but the feeling of your knee bumping against his had his eyes locked to yours. 

His smirk slowly faded, being replaced by a more serious expression, until he saw the soft smile on your lips. 

Nah, she's just friendly. He found himself trying to explain away your actions, but a large part of him desperately wanted him to be wrong. Having such a sweet girl look up at him like that was uncharted territory, and his mind slowly drifted away to the idea of your uncharted territory. He would've snorted at the pun if not for the feel of your thigh pressing against his and staying there this time. 

Neither of you had noticed, but the bickering had finally died down, and a different and lighter conversation was taking place. 

Your silent interaction wasn't as private as it felt, the burn of Rick's eyes on his face had Daryl dragging his eyes to the leader of the group, holding so much cold annoyance towards the nosey man that it could've frozen hell. 

Rick just grinned, happy to see at least some people weren't so miserable with how things were going and went back to picking at his plate with his fork, silently chuckling. 

“Do you drink?” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts, he looked back over to you, his expression softening when he saw you. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take you out back and fuck you in the grass like an animal, or take you to your bed and kiss every inch of your body. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, his voice low and quiet amongst the chatter of the table. “Why?”

You shrugged in return, popping an apple slice in your mouth and crunching it before swallowing and speaking. “I found a bottle of wine today at the store. I don't really drink much anymore but wanted to find a reason to.” 

Your open-ended words had him overthinking once again, over analyzing what you meant. Was he the reason to drink? Or did you have one already? Before he could leave you in more silence your thigh moved against his again, bringing his attention back to you. 

“What're you askin’ me?” He needed to hear you clearly state your intentions, not wanting to humiliate himself by accepting a nonexistent request. 

“If you'll join me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and it took him a few seconds to process what you'd said. 

He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he searched your face for any sign of a trick. You smiled nervously, your eyes flickering to and fro, only settling on his eyes for a second a time. Something about you being unable to keep eye contact stirred something in him, something he was painfully unfamiliar with. He wanted to grab your chin and make you look up at him, make you speak up, make you tremble under his touch-

“You can say no.” He snapped out of it to see your smile had faded to fear of rejection. 

“No. I want to.” He answered immediately, nodding and earning another smile from you. 

You met him in the front field, holding your bundled up blanket with the wine bottle inside. You were originally going to bring glasses, but said fuck it, you could drink from the bottle. You did forget to bring a bottle opener, though, something Daryl was happy to help with. 

He took the bottle from you and sat down on the blanket beside you, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket and beginning to work it into the cork.

“Hershel said something about moving you guys inside soon.” You commented as he blew a few chunks of broken cork from his blade. 

“I'll pass.” He grunted, digging the blade back into the cork. 

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words. 

“Can't stop thinking about it.” 

“Huh?” 

“About winter.” You thought you might've just been imagining it, but you swore you saw his face drop in disappointment at your answer. 

Finally, you heard the pop of the cork finally coming out, and he took the first swig, spitting out the few pieces of cork that had fallen in after he demolished the poor thing. 

He handed it back to you and you took a deep swig, trying to get as much courage as possible. You didn't know how to act around Daryl. He was so unpredictable, nothing like the other men you'd crushed on before. They were all easy, quick to accept your subliminal hints. 

But Daryl? You could tell him you wanted to suck his dick till he couldn't breathe, and he'd probably laugh, thinking you were just joking, and go off and hunt or whatever it was he did all day. 

It was easy for your mind to wander in the silence. You handed the bottle back to Daryl as you slowly undressed him in your head, imagining him taking your clothes off, his lips all over your neck, switching between your different fantasies. Rough, violent and painful, sweet, slow and deep, or quick, needy and dirty. You wondered what he would be like, was he experienced? Would he be able to make you cum just with his fingers? Or was he the opposite? Either way you wanted him, so unreasonably bad, you'd never felt this way about a man before. If someone told you a witch put a lust spell on you strictly for him, you'd believe it in a heartbeat. You didn't even know his favorite color. Or what type of music he listened to. 

“Shit, get down.” His hand on your chest pushing you to your back had your heart in your throat. You tilted your head back to see Maggie and Glenn, sneaking away once again. Daryl relaxed at the realization that it was just them and drew his hand away from you. 

“Lucky them.” You grumbled, taking the bottle from him and taking a sip. You were happily buzzed at this point, eager to make conversation but not at the point where you'd make a fool of yourself. 

“Hmm. Yeah.” He agreed, watching as they slipped behind the stables. “Lucky.”

With your newfound courage, you decided to test the waters in a way that you felt seemed completely unsuspecting and not suspicious at all. 

“Must be nice to have someone like that to take your mind off things for a while.” You commented casually, your gaze now back at the stars. 

“Wouldn't know.” His gruff reply gave you motivation to push on. 

“Yeah, me neither.” You couldn't think of the words that wouldn't possibly spook him off. Little did you know, Daryl wasn't some cornered frightful animal, he was thinking of the same things and worse than you. He'd been looking at you, his chest rising and falling in short quick breaths, his eyes all over your body beside him. 

“Those stars look better laying down.” He felt like an obviously desperate teenager after saying that, but when you immediately laid down on the blanket he smirked a bit. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid suggestion. 

He took a deep sip of wine and looked over you, noticing you'd changed back into your jean shorts after dinner. It was odd, he thought, considering the chill in the air, but he wasn't complaining. The way he looked at your bare legs was akin to someone on a diet looking at a plate of fresh, hot salty fries. His mouth watered, not from the idea of fries, but from the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs so hard you'd be littered with bruises. 

Daryl wanted to touch you so goddamn bad. But being him, he was too disgusted by the idea of getting the nerve to reach out and touch your thigh and having you pull away, shout at him, storm off and never talk to him again. 

And you being you, you were too terrified at the idea of making the first move and getting a similar reaction. 

So you stared up at the stars, forcing yourself to concentrate, before that last bit of wine spread through your body and gave you enough confidence to look at him. 

A buzzed smile spread on your lips when you saw he was already looking at you. And not your face either, but your thighs, and to gauge his reaction you trailed your hand down your torso to casually rest at the bottom of your shorts. You toyed with it, a bit, pretending you had an itch under the fabric and slipping your fingers under the hem. 

He looked at your face then. 

“You look real good.” He blurted, and froze at his words, ready to get up and bolt if you reacted the wrong way. 

“You look really pretty.” You responded without thinking, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, in a good way, like you could model in one of those underground fashion shows-” You cut yourself off before you could humiliate yourself further, but the grin on his face put you at ease. And made you a little tiny bit bolder. 

Neither of you knew what to say. He suddenly grabbed the wine and took an exceptionally impressive sip, leaving the bottle half empty. 

It was a few moments before either of you spoke again. 

“What did you do before this?” You asked, trying to ease the tension enough to relax the both of you. 

He snorted at that question, shaking his head and looking away from you. “Same as everyone else. Lived. Paid for food.”

You took that as the best answer you'd get from him and decided to use the boldness you'd earned from the alcohol. 

“Did you have a girlfriend?” 

He must've found your question amusing, because he snorted. “Psh. No. You got a boyfriend?” 

You noticed his question was in the present tense, not past like yours. “No.” 

He grunted and shifted in his spot so his forearms rested on his knees. He toyed with the grass for a bit, snapping off blades and picking them apart into little green confetti pieces. 

Daryl gave up on talking. He looked down at you again, seeing you were looking at the stars again, but not really seeing them. With the wine induced confidence he wasn't sure if he was thankful for yet, he reached out for you, his fingertips ghosting your knee. His eyes flickered to your face, and when he saw the expression it held there, he decided he was very grateful for the wine.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your lips parted and your eyebrows a bit furrowed. It was funny, with that look you'd think he had slipped his hands in your shorts. And when his hand fully pressed down on your thigh you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, your body giving a billion silent ‘finally, finally, yes, yes, yes’. 

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a while.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your entire body. 

“I can't stop thinking about it.” You admitted. 

“Yeah?” Your confession had him spinning, his hand now in the pocket of your shorts, two of his fingers dipping in to pull the two of you closer together. 

You found it hard to speak, so you settled on a whiny and desperate ‘Uh-huh’. 

He smirked down at you, his fingers back at your inner thigh. His touch was lazy, but deliberate, his rough fingers slipping up your thigh to the top of your shorts again. He ached to tease you, watch you whimper and squirm under you, but it was getting progressively harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the house, seeing all the windows dark besides Beth's bedroom. He then looked over the moonlit field, concerned for a moment about walkers, but when he saw the fence he felt all concern melt away. 

Daryl's hand continued roaming over your body, relishing in each little whimper being pulled from your throat. The thought that he was doing this to you, it was him making you into this needy little mess, it gave him a new sense of pride he hadn't felt in a long time. 

“You look real damn good.” He repeated his earlier compliment. The way you looked laying down beside him, your long sleeve shirt pushed up around your stomach, your chest rising and falling sharply, had his heart racing despite the buzz he had going on. 

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, sending a shiver through him at the sound of it. Your body arched into his touch, desperate to have his hand move from your stomach either up or down. 

“You feel real damn good too.” He muttered, loving the way your body was responding to his touch. 

“God. So do you.” You breathed out a long exhale, looking up at him like he was the prettiest thing above you, not the stars. 

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch, a bit teasing, making you involuntarily whimper at the sound of it. He suddenly took it up ten notches, sliding his hand up your shirt to your breast. You had to bite back the moan that you knew would either call walkers or humans if you made it. While he played with your nipple, rougher than you expected, his other hand popped open the button on your shorts. 

You didn't have time to be impressed before his hand shoved its way through your tight shorts to your panties, catching you completely off guard with how suddenly forward it was. A strangled groan and the sight of your eyes squeezing shut had him teasing you again. “S’been a while, huh?” 

You nodded frantically, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your legs trembled, moving apart so he could move his hand easier. He eagerly took advantage of the new space and moved his fingers through the sides of your panties, beelining for your clit. You weren't sure if it was experience, or if he just wasn't stupid, but the way he rubbed your embarrassingly slick clit had your head reeling. 

“You want me to take care of this little ache you got goin’ on?” The fact his southern drawl had gotten much stronger was almost enough to make you cum. Coupled with the dirty words he was saying, which was something you didn't expect from Daryl at all, your face burned with embarrassment. 

“Please.” You choked out, your hands gripping onto the blanket under you, having no idea what to do with your hands. 

He put more weight on his hands as he shuffled so close that he was basically on top of you. His middle finger slid into you, and the feigned cockiness quickly left his body when he felt you. He didn't know if he'd last more than ten seconds inside you. You were unbearably hot and wet. And just by the way you squeezed his finger, he couldn't imagine how that would feel on something bigger like his dick. 

Your worries were right, your orgasm came so fast you were humiliated. He'd barely curled his fingers inside you a few times, something you had to teach him through your haze, and you groaned, low and guttural.

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening, your orgasm catching him off guard. He took his hand that was busy pinching your incredibly sore nipples and clamped it firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries, even though they were enough to give him enough material to jerk his dick to for months. 

He'd need to find somewhere he could let you scream in peace. But for now, he'd have you right here, keep his hand over your mouth and fuck you into the grass. 

Daryl watched you come undone under his fingers like it would be the last time he'd ever see it. Memorizing the way your hips rolled up into his hand, the way they pulled away when you arched your back. The way your eyebrows pulled tightly together, then the way they relaxed as you rode out your high, your eyes fluttering like they couldn't decide on opening or staying closed. 

“Jesus Christ woman.” He breathed, his eyes dark and wild, like he'd just watched a miracle being performed in front of him. To Daryl it was. He felt an unbridled sense of satisfaction knowing he was the one who did that to you. 

You relaxed fully, your hips pulling away from his rough fingers and thumb, which were still stroking your clit. 

“Ain't done with you yet.” He pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving a trail of shimmering wetness on your stomach. 

“God. You're so pretty.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him again with that damn look on your face as you struggled to sit up to take your clothes off.

“You think I'm pretty? Yeah? C'mon then, show me.” He grabbed your hands, bringing them to his chest, forcing you to touch him. Your mind spun, still recovering from the first orgasm you'd had in god knows how long, trying to take over control as he used your hands to unbutton his plaid button up, not caring if you saw him shirtless because of how dark it was. The red one with the sleeves torn off,  it was your favorite. It was almost a loss to see him remove it, that was until he brought your hands back to touch his chest again. 

You decided you liked his direction, and let him move your hands down his chest to his jeans. Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, messing up one too many times. He unbuckled it for you, deciding he was too impatient to wait on you, undoing his jeans and tugging them down just enough to get his cock out. 

When he finally tugged it out you tried your best to memorize every single detail about it. The glint of the moon on the bead of precum at the slit, the way the tip was darker than the pale base, the way his unruly pubes looked exactly like you'd imagined. 

Your hands reached out to grab the length of his cock and he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back as he muttered out a string of curses you couldn't understand through his thick accent. 

He was so fucking glad he jerked off in his tent before he came out to meet you. Or else just that touch alone would've had him busting in your hands. 

The sound of him spitting into his hand made your core do that flip and you let out a shaky breath, watching as he rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock. 

He said nothing as he manhandled you, pushing your shorts right down your thighs, ignoring your little sound of surprise. He pulled you into his lap, and the way he took full control of your body like you were a puppet had you growing wetter than you thought possible. He moved you like you weighed nothing, one hand holding your side in a firm grip to keep you hovering over his dick. He was going to spit again, but you sank down against him and he felt how wet you were, he sputtered out a groan and swallowed his spit. 

He reached down between you and grabbed his dick, trying to guide it to the right spot in the confusion of his lust clouded brain and how wet and hot everything felt. You grabbed his hand and aimed it right at your soaking entrance, and sank your hips down. 

His head barely nudged against your entrance before it slid away, up through your lips and bumping your sensitive clit roughly. You hissed at the feeling and he grunted in irritation. 

“Here-” You pulled back from him, which he objected to for a split second, the idea of you separating from him not an option he wanted to consider. But when you started laying down on your back he moved forward on top of you, grabbing your thigh to hike it up over his waist. 

The new angle made things much easier, although your tightness still proved to be a slight inconvenience. You cursed yourself for being so sexually inactive, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the burn of his tip slowly pushing inside you. 

His mouth found your neck as he lowered his body flat on yours, his weight nearly crushing your chest under his. He kissed your neck as he felt the resistance finally give, his head popping inside you and the rest of his dick pushing forward easier. 

You still saw stars when you closed your eyes, your body freezing from the mind numbing pleasure at the feeling of him filling you in a way you'd either never experienced, or had long forgotten. When the burn of the intrusion finally gave away and melted into complete bliss you relaxed under him, your hips angling up to drive him deeper. 

Daryl groaned in your neck, the sound stuttered as he fought to gain his bearings. His hand tugging his dick to the thought of you was something he never thought he'd top. The feeling of you wrapped around it was something he knew he'd never top. 

The tension between you broke and he finally began moving, dragging his dick out painfully slowly before plunging it back in, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle he'd been working on his whole life. 

He let out a low groan, sinking his teeth into the meat of your neck and bringing a high pitched cry from your mouth. 

“Nuh-uh.” He panted, his hips picking up a faster pace as he pulled away from your neck. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart.” 

“Mhmm!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to look at him above you. His eyes dark, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. The sight had you arching your back, making him groan at the feeling of you squeezing and pulling on his dick. He really did look so fucking pretty. 

Daryl looked down at you, eyes tracing over your face twisted in pleasure, and he felt you grow wetter around him. The way your body responded to him had him trembling. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed more. He grabbed your hips, his grip firm enough to keep you in place as he sped up. 

The quickening of his rough thrusts had your head lolling to the side, each thrust knocking a breathless moan from your lips. They were quiet, to be heard by him alone, which was more than enough for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought to keep his composure, the last bit of him that he had under control worried about possibly hurting you. 

But that concern quickly went out the window when you started begging. 

“Please.” Your words bubbled from your chest, hot and desperate. “Please!”

“Please what?” He hissed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he fucked deep into you. “Use your words, tell me whatcha want. I'll give it to you.” 

“More, please, I don't know.” You babbled under him, trying your best to stay quiet. “Harder, more, I don't-” 

He moved on you, suddenly putting all the weight of his upper body into his grip on your hips, right before he started fucking you so hard you lost the ability to speak. 

Each thrust sent a bolt of sharp and deep pleasure through your pussy, up your body and ending with a tingle on your scalp. You couldn't moan, even if you wanted to, his movements were so rough it felt like each snap of his hips knocked the air from your lungs. You knew there'd be a deep imprint of your ass in the dirt tomorrow from how much weight he was boring down on you, and the sensation of that alone made your head spin. 

Your sharp gasps that were in sync with his thrusts neared a dangerous volume, and he slowed his hips, using the opportunity to catch his breath. 

“Ya gotta be quiet. M’serious.” He whispered, his thumbs pressing down on the sides of your stomach when your whimpers had yet to cease. “Gonna have to stop.”

You spewed out a soft stream of no’s, your hands wrapping around his wrists as if you had the strength to keep him there. “I will, sorry.”

He nodded in response and carried back on with quicker thrusts, his mouth open as he sucked in shaky breaths. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off you. He wished he had met you a year ago, before all this happened, so he could fuck you without worrying about walkers, getting caught, he wanted desperately to hear every sound he earned from you. He was the reason you were a broken mess; he deserved to hear and have all of you. 

Your right hand let go of his wrist to snake under his stomach, your flat fingers rubbing firm massages on your greedy clit. The sight had a choked moan sounding from his throat and you whined in response, the sound sending long bolts of pleasure through your core. 

“Daryl, so close.” You whispered, your toes curling from their spot at the base of his spine. 

He understood your meaning and set a steadier pace, not too rough or fast, but deep and steady enough to guarantee your final orgasm, since his first with you was approaching. 

Daryl wasn't stupid, he meant to pull out, truly, but when you came and squeezed his cock like a fist, he couldn't help it. His body trembled and he choked, gasping and whimpering as he came with you. 

Your jaw dropped and you saw more than stars, you saw the whole damn galaxy. Daryl quickly pressed his hand over your mouth to muffle your obscene moans, his hips stuttering as he finished the last drop in his orgasm. 

“My God. My God. Oh my God.” You panted after he removed his hand, your eyes bleary and wet, your body vibrating with exhausted shakes as your ecstasy slowly faded away. Your hands and feet felt cold and numb, and when he pulled away it felt like someone had taken something from you. You whimpered in a soft objection as his wrist left your grip. 

“Goddamn.” He sat back to stuff his raw dick back in his jeans, twitching when he felt the uncomfortable friction from his boxers, it was too stimulating. 

It took you some time to put your clothes back on, when you were finally dressed you were too exhausted to do anything but lay there on the blanket and catch your breath. 

Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in silence to regain your bearings and enjoy the final moments of buzz from sex. As soon as he came down from his high, he grabbed the abandoned bottle of wine and drank nearly the rest of it. 

“I'm gonna go shower.” You breathed, sitting upright to find your shoes and put them back on. 

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

“Goodnight Daryl. That was amazing.” You thanked him with a quick kiss that seemed to startle him.

He sucked his teeth in embarrassment, waving you off as if to say, ‘it's nothing'. He watched you walk away, scratching the backs of your arms, itching from the grass. Daryl turned back to the woods and finished the bottle before chucking it into the field, eventually leaving for his tent, bringing your blanket with him. 

You took the best bath you could manage with your supplies; it wasn't as satisfying as a hot shower with your old fancy soaps and shampoos, but you were too exhausted to do more than just clean yourself. You barely even wrapped your hair with a towel before tripping into your room and falling on your bed. 

You yelped when you felt something hard like at your back and you leaned up on your elbow to see a small box with a note. 

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

You sighed in relief when you saw it was emergency contraceptives and a pack of condoms, despite the pit in your stomach from knowing Maggie had seen you. It was something you should have already planned for yourself, the condoms, but it was hard to think straight when you were horny over Daryl Dixon. 

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

[clare-875]

Hey Clare😙 love your writing so much! Could I request a shanks x jealous!reader, where the reader feels as though their love for is unrequited due to shanks’ many flings (but it’s actually not)? Thank u so much, muah!❤️

Envy (Shanks x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Shanks x Female Reader Summary: You think your love for him is unrequited. Warnings: Jealous reader, harassment, alcohol, angst/fluff A/N: I'm so glad you like my stories <3 I hope you enjoy this one! [One Piece Masterlist] _____

There he goes again.

You watch your Captain from where you sit in a dimly lit bar, lips pulled into a tight frown. The feeling bubbles up within you before filling you so much, you could suffocate. Jealousy. Shanks has a wide grin on his face as once again, beautiful women gravitate towards the red-haired man. Who wouldn't? Your Captain, who was so powerful and skilled he upheld the status of an emperor. Your Captain, the famous leader of the Red-Haired Pirates. Your Captain, so charismatic and charming and frustratingly attractive. You let out a deep, decrepit sigh.

Why did you have to fall for him?

He has an arm wrapped loosely around a blond-haired woman with a model-like body, cradling a drink in his other hand. Two more women sit by him and linger, fighting for his attention. You can faintly hear them laugh at something he said in the distance. Gritting your teeth, you force your gaze to the drink in your hand, swirling it periodically like it could help the turmoil you feel now. It had been the same cycle over and over the past few months, with Shanks flirting and bringing a woman to bed each night you were ashore. Then, that same woman would leave the next morning, his form nowhere to be seen.

With his flings came his distance.

He could barely meet your gaze the following day, and it had felt like there was a greater space between you since his cycle of women had started. It hurt you. Not only because the man you were in love with paid more attention to someone who wasn't yourself, but because he didn't even seem to care about the women he brought to his bed. You felt as though he cherished time with faceless women more than you. You thought the two of you had been friends, maybe even inkling to the beginnings of something more. Countless times have you stayed up late, talking about your dreams. Countless times have you drunk and danced together, laughing uncontrollably. Countless times had you bantered, and smiled and gazed at the other.

All for it to be suddenly lost. Like you hadn't meant anything to him.

This one-sided love, his carelessness. You had been holding out hope that maybe he would look to you like he used to all those months ago. But now you start to see that it is getting helpless, and you feel like you are going crazy. He had entrapped you in your feelings. You knew you had to move on - you can't bear this a second longer - you just didn't know if you could. Faint tears sting your eyes but you force them away. You can't cry for him anymore.

"Hey, you alright?"

Your eyes travel upwards are you are met with the knowing gaze of Benn Beckham. "You know he's an idiot right?" Maybe it was the way he too, was good with women and frequently brought them to bed, but he had somehow seen so clearly that Shanks's flings were getting to you. Maybe you hadn't been hiding your feelings well enough, but you could barely care anymore. "I'm fine Benn, I'm just gonna go get another drink." You smile to the best of your ability and leave him be, walking up to the bartender, hoping you could just drink your troubles away.

It is your turn to order when a man approaches you.

"Hey, I'll get that for you." The voice of a stranger reaches your ears and you look up surprised to see a man offering to pay for the drink you ordered. You weren't necessarily scarse of men approaching you, but you hadn't found the courage to pursue anything amid your feelings for Shanks. Maybe it was time to move on. Maybe it was time for a change. "Thank you." You try to push your inner turmoil aside and force your lingering gaze away from your Captain. "No problem." The man is surprisingly attractive, and a polite smile reaches the corners of your face.

His gaze holds keen interest. "You know, you caught my eye the minute you walked in." You smile at the man's sudden boldness, raising a brow as you hold your drink in one hand. "Really?" He grins wide at your amusement. "You don't happen to have a boyfriend, do you?" You feel your heart tug sharply in your chest at his words and suddenly you're fighting a frown. You spare one last glance at your Captain. He was distracted by the woman under his arm and grinning wide. Your eyes dart back to the man in front of you waiting expectantly.

"No, there's no one in my life."

Moments pass well enough, and the man who sits in front of you is nice at least. He just wasn't the man you wanted. Maybe moving on wasn't that easy. You smile and nod and listen intently, you shake your head and pitch into conversation. But soon, you fight a yawn as he speaks mainly of himself and his glory, barely showing the interest he claimed to have had in you. What's more, you realise his boldness quickly, as he closes the space between you with each minute that passes. Maybe it wasn't interest you saw earlier in his eyes, but lust. The smile you keep on your face starts to strain against your skin.

"Hey," your gaze snaps forward as you realise you have been lost in your thoughts, most likely looking into the void. The man in front of you doesn't seem to notice, however, as there is no change in his attitude. "Do you wanna get out of here?" His hand reaches out to touch your thigh, and you suddenly feel ill. You see it then so clearly, that he simply wanted you in his bed from the beginning, most likely to be discarded the morning after. What was it with men these days? You try to maintain your composure and you reach for the hand that touches your skin, removing it promptly from your thigh.

"Actually, I'm good thanks."

You go to stand, placing an empty glass on the counter. "This was nice," you say, "but I should go now." As you move, however, his hand that lingers reaches for your arm. You freeze at the contact, but he is all up in your space again, and his sudden actions take you back. "What-" But he interrupts moving closer to your face. "I don't think so, sweetheart. I like what I see. I want to see where this goes..." A frown instantly marks your face, as your blood pumps hot within you. Does he know who he's talking to? Yes, you may seem like any other woman at the bar, but you were a pirate. A pirate on an Emporer's crew. "Why, you-"

"What's going on here?"

The man freezes. There is darkness that fills the air along with the suddenly dangerous atmosphere. A figure looms behind you.

"I- I-," the man drops your arm instantly, stuttering as fear creeps up on his features. Who wouldn't in the face of an emperor? You don't turn, but you know it is Shanks who stands behind you, and his sharp eyes are trained on where the man had touched your skin. Though you do not see, Shank's face morphs into one of unusual, pure fury. It has the man in front of you basically falling to your feet. "Get out of here." Your Captain's words are spoken low and he places a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back into him.

The man all but runs from your side.

There is a tension that lingers in the aftermath, but it is broken by your movements, shrugging off Shanks's hand. There is a brief silence that follows. "I was fine." Your words are muttered softly, and there is a pain that lingers in your chest. Why did it have to be he who came? Didn't he know how painful this was for you already? Shanks watches your darkened expression carefully and lets out a deep sigh. "Look [y/n], I won't stop you from pursuing guys but at least pick better ones-" You turn as your facade cracks, bringing forth anger.

"You're the last person I need to hear that from Shanks. Why don't you go back to your little group, I'm sure they're missing you."

Shanks freezes under the weight of your glare and sharp words. He had never seen you look at him in such a way. You fight your emotions as you look at the surprise in your Captain's face, and you move. You need air, there was no oxygen in this bar and it felt like you were suffocating. "Wait, [y/n]-" But you don't stop, you were tired and hurt and envy filled your senses. Why couldn't he see how much you loved him? Why can't he see how much he hurts you?

"[y/n]!"

Finally feeling like you can breathe in the crisp evening air, Shanks has caught up to you before barely a moment passes. "[y/n], is there something wrong?" His words are what make you break completely. With alcohol still burning in your system and your raging feelings, you finally let it spill. A laugh of disbelief escapes you. "Wrong? You're really asking me if something's wrong Shanks, now?!" Shanks watches wide-eyed as you eye him with a mixture of sadness and anger.

"You've barely spoken to me, let alone looked at me these past few weeks! You have a new woman in your bed every other day! There's nothing here anymore. What happened to friendship? What happened to-" You pause, realising you've spoken too much of your mind, but Shanks's eyes only widen further in surprise. "I liked you, Shanks. I actually thought you-" A tear slips from your eye that you wipe harshly from your cheek, turning away. But Shanks reacts before you can take a single step, and a hand holds you to him before you are engulfed in his embrace.

You struggle in his arms, tears now pouring as you tell him to let you go. "I don't want your pity Shanks! Go! You have people waiting for you inside-" But Shanks doesn't budge an inch, instead all that fills him is utter regret, and shame, and pain. All this time, you liked him too? All this time he had spent trying to push his feelings aside with nameless women, only to feel deep remorse when he saw your face the next morning. All this time he had pushed away your friendship, and the inkling of something more. He had pushed you away because, for the first time, the Red-Haired Shanks were scared. Scared of losing you.

He was a coward.

"Shanks-" The red-haired Emporer can feel his heart clench against his chest at your words to leave you be, but he can't let you go. He won't let you go, he doesn't think he can bear your absence any longer. What torture had he put the both of you through, for no reason at all but his stupidity? Would you even forgive him? "[y/n]... I'm sorry." You freeze suddenly at his words, feeling your heart drop even further within you. Of course, here it comes, the rejection. But Shanks's words are beyond what you thought they would be.

"I like you too... no, I'm in love with you." You feel your breath caught in your throat as you start to shake your head against his chest, fighting to move from his arms once more. "Liar! Then what about all those women you slept with! You wouldn't even look at me-" Shanks quickly interrupts before you spill your words once more. "I thought that pushing you away would make the feeling fade. All those women, they were part of that too. But, [y/n], they're nothing compared to you. Believe me." Shanks finally releases you from his embrace and you scramble back a few steps watching his pleading expression with wide eyes.

"Forgive me."

You meet his burning red eyes with trepidation, but all you see is his sincerity, his regret. You are utterly speechless. Shanks was in love with you? Shanks returned your feelings? You move forward, anger suddenly filling you as you move closer and you swing, one punch right into his chest. Shanks doesn't move or flinch, he merely takes the brunt of your attack though it barely does anything to the emperor. "You, you're telling the truth?" Your words are spoken as though still unsure, and you let your arm fall to your side. Shanks observes your darkened expression, but his remorse does nothing to fade.

"Yes."

One step forward, followed by another, you move once more. Holding the collar of his shirt you pull him down to you with what strength you can muster, and suddenly your lips are on his. Shanks stops in surprise but is quick to pull you close to him and return your fervour. The kiss is angry and passionate and all you had dreamt it would be. Your hands move deep into his hair, and his arms wind themselves around your waist. You feel his warmth and want against you. When you part, it is only because you need a breath.

"You're stupid."

You speak low, but with the lingering joy that fills your senses. You had kissed him.

"You were jealous."

Shanks retorts, murmuring his words into your skin, but you don't miss the teasing undertone. You frown, hitting him lightly in mock irritation. "Shanks, do you really want to be-" But he quickly cuts you off with another kiss to your lips.

"I still haven't forgiven you, you know."

Shanks leans his head against yours, finally content.

"I know."

Let's just say the following weeks are spent with Shanks bending to your every will and want. It takes a while for you to get over the flings that put a gap between the two of you, but soon you forgive him. He couldn't be happier with you by his side. You were all he wanted, and all he could ever want.

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part one)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

The start to an angst-ridden little story, wherein the reader, Aemond's dearest friend (and clandestine love) learns of his apparent new paramour, Alys.

themes/warnings: angst, jealousy, fwb type situation, Aemond is kind of a clueless twat

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

edit(!): this oneshot seems to have taken a life of its own, like most of my fics, quite unexpectedly! I've changed the title from (sapphire) blue heart to sapphire-hearted, and part two will be out in a few hours! is out now!

"Why do you not look at me?" He gently pries your face towards him with his free hand, as you both lie naked on his sheets, his arm wrapped around you. "Have I done something wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing, Aem." You shake your head, letting his hand fall.

He takes one deep breath. He knows you like the back of his hand; he knows something isn't right.

"You're not fooling me, gevie." Beautiful, he calls you, as you sit up and bring your knees to your chest. You feel the cold air on your back, and then, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin.

Gevie. You wonder if he calls Alys the same. After their rumoured trysts. After she is seen leaving his bedchambers. Has she lain among these very sheets herself, where you are now?

You and Aemond were not together, no. You were not betrothed. Your House was too lowly to allow you to wed a Targaryen prince. But he had said he was yours. Just yours.

How has that changed so quickly?

"Speak to me," he pleads. He sits up behind you, kissing the back of your neck. "You know I have my methods of making you do so. Shall I employ them?" You can hear the amusement in his voice, the assuredness.

You thought you loved it more than anything, but now it feels like some cruel jest.

You turn to face him directly. "Is she better than me?"

He leans back, fully aware of who you mean. "Hmm," he purses his lips. "Jealousy does not become you, it seems."

"I'm glad you think me amusing." You bite back, looking away.

"This is amusing. How can you be jealous of her?"

You aren't sure what to make of that question. Is he mocking you, and the justification of your envy? Who are you to him anyway? Just a friend, no?

"Aemond. I thought... that we..."

"You know what we are. How we are. Isn't it enough?"

"Not if I have to share you with some witch!" you rise from his bed, and wrap your cloak around yourself. "I've turned down the finest suitors, simply because you wished me to. Simply because you were jealous. Don't you think you owe me the same courtesy?"

His voice is colder when he responds, "What do you think I am doing with Alys, hmm? Do you think I enjoy having her grace my bedchambers, and have her clawing at me?" He stands too, towering over your stature. "I have never wanted to bed anyone other than you. What I am doing with her... what I have to do with her... It is for the good of the Seven Kingdoms."

"Spare me, Aemond." You swat his hands away, when he reaches for your arms. "Don't..." He tries again, much quicker this time, and he holds your forearms tightly against his bare chest.

"She has magic." There is a wild look in his eye when he says this, and it makes you uneasy. "She sees things, Alys. She can predict what the enemy's next move is, where they'll be. What I am doing with her, lying with her, is but a small price to pay."

"What if you don't lie with her? You don't have to..."

"She asks me to."

"You don't have to. You're the prince! She answers to you, not the other way around."

"I refused, of course, in the beginning." He holds your face gently in his hands now, trying to make you understand. "That did no good. She gave me nothing. I could have her tortured. But this will only serve to distance her even more from our cause."

"So, to get what you want... to hear her incredible visions and benefit from her magical spells, you have to fuck her? Very astute of you, Aemond."

"Careful, my love." He tilts his head, trying to work through your anger.

You use your palms on his chest to push him away. He only stumbles a little, the faint sound of his low growl reaching your ears.

"You know what I'll do?" you threaten, your cloak falling back to the floor as you wave your arms dramatically. "The next dashing Lord that asks for my hand, I'll take. It could be Lord Manderly's son or... Lord Beesbury's eldest boy has made an offer, too. I'll wed him, whoever he is, why not? Even if I don't love him, it will only be a small price to pay," you sneer, mirroring his words from before. "It is what's expected of me, after all. It is for the good of my House."

Aemond's jaw clenches in his rage. "Then I shall have him captured and quartered to pieces in the dungeons before he can even get the chance to - "

"No," you shake your head at his nonsense. "No, you would not. You would not do something like that to me. How would that be fair? You and I, we'll never marry. As it stands, you'd sooner wed your witch than I."

"I would marry you in a heartbeat." He moves closer now, desperation creeping in his voice. His lips meet yours in a haste. Wet and demanding. When you turn your head, he only continues kissing the side of your face. Then he stops, pressing his forehead to your temple. "You know this, my love. You have to know this. Alys is nothing compared to you. Without her, I might lose the war. But without you... I lose myself."

You nearly cave in at that, as you always do when it comes to Aemond. But now, you remind yourself to stand your ground.

"Then prove it to me," you whisper, and a stray tear falls down your cheek. "Do as I ask. Stop being with her."

Seconds pass. Aemond's mind races at the possible outcomes. His heart aches at the sight of your sadness, but he feels compelled to think of other things too.

The war. Defeating the Blacks. Easily gaining the upper hand through dark magic.

At the end of it all - and if he does what he does, it should all end very soon - he will still have you. He's sure of it.

You will always come back to him. You will understand.

"I cannot," he says, his words striking through your heart.

You feel numb all over, but you force yourself to step away from him, and hurriedly put your dress back on.

"My love, please..." He watches helplessly as you tie the strings of your skirts, preparing to leave.

"My prince," you cursty, when you've managed to put yourself together. "I am not certain when, but you're invited to honour us with your presence at my coming marriage ceremony."

"I'd sooner command Vhagar to burn Westeros to ashes."

"You mean, you'd sooner bask in the pleasures that only your witch can offer?" you laugh mirthlessly. "Of course."

You start walking away, determinedly. Ice has flooded your veins and your heart, turning you cold and blue. But you press on. The pain will have to wait for later.

"You'll come back to me," he calls after you.

"Oh, I wouldn't hold my breath, if I were you."

You slam the door behind you.

Angst!!! We all need this sometimes. I swear it riles me up so good, I almost wonder if something's messed up with my romantic ideals ....

.... who are we kidding? Of course there is. Because I would marry our one-eyed Vhagar-riding war terrorist in a heartbeat.

taglist open for an upcoming part!

[creedslove]

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART EIGHT

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: You finally allow Jack to step into his father role but he's brokenhearted to see he's not going to be more than that

(this is the eighth chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

• PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

Warnings: sexual tension, angst, hurt, fluff, mom!reader

A/N: another chapter that I have absolutely no idea how you guys will react, but I hope you all enjoy it besties ❤️

3.5k words

"I beg you for a second chance, sugar" 

Shock ran through your whole body as you heard Jack's words. Some part of you didn't want to give him the time of the day, but another part just had to hear what he had to say, he seemed desperate for a moment, the way his sad eyes watched you, begging you for a chance to be heard, a chance to be the father of your son, and a chance to be with you again.

Your heart broke.

He needed that, he needed to have your attention for a while, even if he wasn't worthy of it, you couldn't deny him that, so you sighed heavily the moment he gripped your wrist making sure you wouldn't escape him while he confessed his words. Honestly, you expected another load of empty apologizes disguised in a sweet voice that held no truth, only for Jack to restart his batch of cruelty by insulting you whenever you didn't meet any of his absurd demands. You had already prepared yourself for another round of Jack being obnoxious and offending you as soon as you didn't give him, your emotional walls were up again, but Jack came in like a wrecking ball tumbling them down, when he confessed everything to you. 

"I-" it was all you could say. All you could whisper at him, watching as his eyes full of hope stared at you eagerly, needing an answer, he had exposed himself so you would see the truth behind his actions and it pained you to think he was pouring his feelings out because everyone knew Jack Daniels would never bring his deceased wife and unborn son into a conversation if he didn't mean it. 

You were caught by surprise, still unsure of what to do or what to say, so you only took your hand to his cheek, the same place you hit him earlier that morning, but this time your touch was gentle and at some extent offering comfort. You felt a pang in your chest at the way Jack leaned towards your touch, looking for more of it, more contact and affection from you. It hurt to see how Wyatt did exactly the same thing. Jack swallowed and you had to face those sad, beautiful, brown eyes, glistening with the tears he held back. 

"Jack… I'm sorry about everything that happened, about you getting injured, about your first family…" you told him honestly "I had no idea…" you swallowed "I'm glad Ginger saved your ass, I wouldn't like to see you dead" you smiled sadly and he took your hand, giving you a happy smile in response to your sad one and kissed your hand gently. 

"I need to think about what you asked me, is that okay?" You said and watched as he nodded, being understanding and finally seeing his way back into your heart - or at least your life with your son - was being gentle, decent and nice to you. 

You excused yourself and exited his room, heading back to yours and lying in bed - not before stopping by your son's new bedroom and feeling your heart filled with love as he slept so peacefully without a care in the world. You envied him. Wyatt was so unaware of the problems around him, he was so innocent and happy, anything really made him excited and got the giggles going and you wished you could be like that, you wished you could just close your eyes and have a peaceful night of sleep, forget about everything that worried you and rest your head against your pillow. 

Each time you closed your eyes, however, your conversation with Jack replayed in your mind over and over, making you restless and anxious, as you had an answer but you didn't know how to explain it to him. If it were just a few hours before, you would've loved to rub it in his face a negative answer, but now things had changed again. You weren't happy about it, but you knew you had to do the right thing; and as much as your plan was to wait until the morning to do so, you simply couldn't fall asleep, couldn't relax, the tension and the anxiety keeping you wary and wide awake, not able to simply appreciate the comfortable bed you were in. You tossed and turned, not finding a comfortable position, the blankets seemed to sting your skin and you groaned annoyed. 

So you simply got up, and walked back to Jack's room. 

You figured he would be as anxious and tense as you, so it wouldn't be too bad to possibly wake him up, as you hesitantly walked through the hallway and once again opened the door to Wyatt's room to find him sleeping peacefully once more, you gathered the courage you needed to in order to talk to Jack, it was about your son's future after all and Wyatt deserved the best you and his dad could afford, both financially and also emotionally. He deserved to have a family, a father and a mother, even if they weren't together like the families he often saw in his movies and cartoons, he deserved the option, to have the right to see his cowboy daddy, to go to his fancy ranch on the weekends and spends special dates with Jack, even if it meant you would have to be around, it would still be worthy because your son would be happy and his happiness and well-being were everything you wished for ever since he was born. 

You finally got to Jack's room and knocked on the door softly, looking over the walls and then down onto the floor, waiting for the man. You felt your heart race for absolutely no reason, it's not like you would find him with a woman inside, but at the same time it felt so weird, you'd slept in that room with him, it used to be your room. You'd slept, fucked, made love, exchanged promises for the future and like a thin glass, it all shattered without a warning. You heard his steps coming from inside, just as you'd guessed, he wasn't asleep at all, so it didn't take long for him to open the door to you.

But you gasped. 

Because as soon as the door was open, you could watch Jack Daniels, also known as Senior Agent Whiskey, displaying his great shape in his almost naked glory, wearing nothing but a pair of very tight black boxers. You knew Jack often slept with his boxers on or nothing at all, but you had forgotten about it? Or you thought he would throw some sweats before opening the door to you. But then you thought again and reminded yourself that it was Jack, and he wouldn't throw any sweats.

You bit your lips as you watched him, he looked incredible. He was a big, large man, his body was well-built and he always looked inviting. You couldn't help yourself to think the only thing that was missing was his black cowboy hat. That and his lasso, so you could use it to tie him down to his bed, making your cowboy so defenseless, being exposed like that. Then all you would have to do would have your thighs on each side of his waist, lowering yourself on his cock and taking his stetson and placing it on your own head, ready to make the cowboy hat rule come to life. 

"Sugar?" He asked you and gently poked your arm, drawing your attention back to him "cat got your tongue? You've been staring for quite a while, is everything okay?" He raised his eyebrow and watched as your face turned a deep shade of red. 

You didn't know where those ideas came from, that would be the last thing in your mind. You and Jack were at war, he offended you at every single opportunity he had after being nothing but horrible to you. And yet you just had a wet dream right in front of him. You wanted to scream in frustration and punch yourself, but instead, you shook your head and stared back into his eyes 

"I-I want to talk to you… I made up my mind" you said in a weak voice, still mortified at yourself for having such… thoughts on Jack "maybe you should… you know… cover yourself up a little?" 

Jack raised his eyebrow and gave you a cocky, smug smile, the kind he used whenever he flirted with you and you wanted to kill him and then yourself at the realization he noticed how you looked at him. Why was it so embarrassing to you? Why was it so difficult to remind yourself he is the man who broke your heart and threw you out of the house while pregnant with his child? You shouldn't be having inappropriate thoughts like that. 

"Why's that sugar? You used to love the view" he placed his hands on his waist and bent his knee a little, you weren't sure if he was joking or actually hitting on you, but you wouldn't risk playing that game, quite the opposite, it was either acting serious or leaving. You sighed heavily and shook your head "fine Jack, you definitely don't want to take things seriously, so we can talk in the morning" you turned around and took a step towards the door, and that was enough for the cowboy to curse under his breath and immediately look for some pants. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry sugar… I'm decent now, you can look at me" he told you in an urgent tone, he didn't want you to leave, he didn't want his questions, his pleas to be unanswered so he breathed relieved when you faced him again. 

Of course Jack only bothered to put on his pants, not a shirt, so you still had a privileged view of his body, just as beautiful and sexy as you remembered, if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough you could still feel his skin against yours, the taste of him on your lips, his smell lingering on your body hours after he had touched you for the last time. But you couldn't, you were there to talk business, serious business with him, and above all, remind yourself what a shitty person he was, no matter how handsome and attractive he happened to be. 

"I already made up my mind, Jack… about everything you asked me" you told him and walked to his armchair, waiting for him to follow and do the same, taking the spare one, facing you. His hands joined together and resting on his lap, trying to hide his anxiety as you prepared yourself to speak 

"So, as I said… I already made up my mind, and I've decided that yes, you can come back into our lives and take up your role as a father. I still don't know how to do that, I mean, isn't Wyatt too young to know you are his dad? Would he even understand?" You asked but you questioned more yourself than him at that moment "my point is… you have already waltzed into our lives, against my will of course, Jack, you know it, but you have, and the fact is that my son already loves you and I can't fight that" you rubbed your neck and then licked your lips "but not everything will be a picnic, Jack Daniels… I got two conditions: first one, you break his little heart in any way and you're out of the picture forever, even if I have to pay my ass off in lawyers to keep away from my son" Jack nodded, trying to hide his smile, he was so damn happy to know he would finally be able to officially be Wyatt's dad he barely paid attention to anything else, but he tried focusing on you, not wanting to seem disrespectful in any way "and my last condition is: once Wyatt is old enough, he will know what happened between us. It is not fair to me that he gets to love you more than me just because you are the cool parent that gives him no rules and restrictions and can fuel his imagination with your fancy ranch, and your money, he will know you ditched us, you didn't want us and you weren't there for us when we needed you, and this is not negotiable" you swallowed and got up, walking towards the door and not giving Jack enough time to argue back as you had absolutely no strength to get into another fight now. 

Jack on the other hand wasn't pleased at all, he wanted to argue over that last rule. If he was making things right then it meant his sins would be forgiven? He didn't want his son to find out what a shitty man he was, he was ashamed of it and it would gut him if his sweet little Wyatt found out the bitter truth about his daddy, but at that moment, he knew he wouldn't get anything from you. So he obliged to your conditions, but he hadn't gotten his final answer yet, not the one he had been anxiously awaiting for the whole night. He gently took you wrist, stopping you from taking another step 

"Sugar?" He asked you in his low voice, hesitantly, as part of him knew what was coming but he still needed to try, he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't. "What about a second chance for us? Have you thought of that?" 

"There's nothing to think about Jack. There is no 'us' anymore. You asked me to co-parent Wyatt and I said yes, but you and I? That's dead and gone. Besides I already have someone" and then he looked at you with the saddest brown eyes you'd ever seen, if you didn't know any better, you would basically melt away, dwelling into their depth of sadness and do everything in your power to make him happy, but not anymore. You were no longer like that. "You know what's funny, Jack? A few years ago, my biggest dream was to hear you asking me this question. All I wanted, wished and prayed for was for you to show up at my doorstep, apologize and ask me to get back together so we would have our baby and raise him as a family… funny how things change, right?" 

And you left him there. 

                        •••

When Sunday came, Jack had no other option than suck it up and hold onto what he got: his son. He would be lying if it said he wasn't hurt by your response, though he knew it was very likely to happen, he still had some small, childish even, hope in his heart. Hope that maybe you forgive him, or at least tell him he could try to make things right, but instead you just straight up made sure he understood he would have no chance with you after all. And it stung. He couldn't deny it. And the fact you'd told him you had someone? That must have been bullshit. He was sure you were just bluffing, just saying that to make him feel bad after hurting you. There was no way you had a boyfriend. Or was it? No, he didn't want to believe that, it made no sense at all, of course he would have Ginger hack into your social media first thing on Monday to see if you were being honest or not, but at that moment, he couldn't worry so much about that. 

But on the other hand, he had his son, and he couldn't be happier about that part, to know you were finally okay with him being around, not needing to worry you would just walk away with Wyatt and not look back, he wanted to do everything by the book; he wanted his name on the birth certificate, he wanted to pay you a very good child support and be part of every single meaningful part of Wyatt's life. Unlike you, your son loved him, and he felt very happy, loving to spend the whole time with him, all over the place. He showed Wyatt the rest of the ranch, all his favorite animals again and even took his lasso, which the little boy loved and clapped enthusiastically, showing him the best moves and how cool it could be. Jack also paid attention to you, and how you reacted to his lasso abilities. He knew how much you enjoyed watching him with it or the whip, and he also knew damn well how his lasso brought the two of you erotic memories. Instead of getting lost in Whiskey again, you focused on your son, how good his smell and how warm he was in your arms. Your jealous side wasn't totally convinced he could love the two of you just as much, but you tried, and seeing how excited and happy he was, it already soothed your heart. 

Wyatt also spent a lot of time with Silver Pony, it was almost impossible to drag him out of the stable. He just loved that mare with all his little heart and wanted to brush her, ride her and hug her for the rest of his life. At moments like those, he could see how similar you and Wyatt were. He could look just the same as his father, but his sweetness and kindness were all you, and Jack really loved that. 

When evening came, he was already upset knowing you and Wyatt would head back home, the weekend went by so fast and it broke his heart to think he would have to spend another night alone. He didn't want that anymore, Jack wanted a family, his family, and it was just too upsetting to know you would drive back to your apartment, cuddle your boy to sleep and Jack would have to stay alone, haunted by the memories of how happy he was once.

So when the first thunder roared in the sky, it felt like the heavens had heard his prayers. Maybe, if a real bad rain started, you and Wyatt would have to spend another night, so it was very hard for him to hide the smile when the three of you were caught by the storm as you returned from the stable. By the time you reached the house, you were all soaked wet, so marching into a warm shower was the first thing you did. First Wyatt, then you, then Jack. 

You had hopes the rain would stop so you could drive home, but of course it didn't and you just knew you would have to spend an extra night. You weren't happy about it, but it was the safest option, as driving was completely off the table at that weather; you only felt upset to see Wyatt wasn't as happy as he should be, because he was scared of the loud thunders. They just made his little ears hurt and he felt startled, but the moment the power went out because of the rain, Wyatt began crying. He clung to Jack and sniffed, holding the cowboy as tight as he could "I scawed cowboy" he cried his little heart out "pwease no weave me and mama" he begged him and that shattered the man's heart. His son begging him not to be abandoned, it gutted him to think he was so scared he didn't want to be left alone. 

"It's okay, buddy… daddy ain't leaving you or mama" he assured him, rubbing his back and only realizing what he'd said after you stared at him in disbelief, you knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be like that, the two of you held your breaths waiting for Wyatt's response, anxious to know if he would question you two, or if he would find it funny or confusing but he didn't say anything at all, he just sniffed calming down, though his grip around Jack wouldn't loosen in any way.

Until you had an idea. Rubbing his back in soothing, circle motions just like Jack did, you smiled at your son "come on baby, let's have a sleepover, you, me and the cowboy" you suggested him and in no time the three of you were in Jack's bedroom - that being the biggest one - and immediately climbing in bed. You and Jack in opposite sides and Wyatt in the middle. The room was dark and the rain falling mercilessly outside created the perfect atmosphere to sleep. You were almost dozing off yourself, as Jack hummed q lullaby to Wyatt, it was just so soothing and relaxing, you were so ready to relax, when Wyatt let out a big yawn 

"Night night mama, night night dada" he said in his sweet voice and fell asleep.

At that moment, you and Jack weren't enemies anymore, you were two parents, too choked up on your own emotions to say anything else, before another thunder crashed outside, but this time, it didn't bother Wyatt, because he was safely asleep, protected by his mommy and daddy. 

_____

A/N: I just want to be this man's sugar and give him beautiful kids 🥺😭❤️

[sawyerconfort]

Hiiiii! Can you do “you can hold my hand, if you want” with Heather chandler? I was thinking like anxious reader at a party something but honestly whatever is cool!

I'M BACK AND BACK WITH A HEATHERS PROMPT!

Sorry it took so long, man, but here we are!

Hope you enjoy!

Guys, I'm still not taking requests because I always have a writer's block trying to write them. Planning to open again real soon, just let me organize the schedule better!

Enjoy!

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

Introvert | Heather Chandler x Reader

"Come on, (Y\N), it'll be cool!"

For someone like Heather Chandler - blonde, beautiful and popular - a party full of people was really cool. But you, a newcomer to the group, and someone who was trying to tone down your introverted side, definitely being at a crowded party was a nightmare.

Inevitably, things started to get worse as soon as you took the first step into the house where the party was taking place. It wasn't the feeling of the loud beat of the music in your ears that bothered you, but the looks people gave you both. Heather refused to make any kind of physical contact with you - it was something that came from her, and you were used to it, to be honest - but even so, everyone who saw you enter together had their eyes glued to you.

It was like you were the most popular couple, not being a couple, right now.

And you hated it. And your social anxiety hated it even more.

***

"Hey, are you okay?"

Heather's voice woke you from your thoughts. She looked beautiful in her little red outfit - like all the clothes she owned - and envy hit you the moment you saw her wave to everyone passing by. In her hand was the traditional drink cup. It was halfway through, but she didn't look drunk or anything.

"I'm fine," you assured, your voice low and shaky, disguising a glance at the scenery, something that didn't go unnoticed by Heather. She looked at you with a serious expression, and you snorted. "Seriously, Heather."

"Here, have a little drink…", she whispered, picking up an empty glass from a table and pouring it before handing it to you. "Do you want me to stay here by your side and distract you?"

You shook your head, and almost had the urge to repeat that everything was fine, when she interrupted you.

"I'll stay anyway. You know what they say, right, whoever has Heather Chandler on their side doesn't have the slightest chance of being sad." She laughed and then looked at you. "Listen, if you're not feeling well, we can go home. And I'll spend the night with you, having a sleepover just the two of us."

You stiffened and nodded, but, looking around again, took a deep breath and composed yourself before saying that everything was fine for the umpteenth time.

"(Y\N), why are you so quiet?" she asked, now looking at you with concern. "Go on, don't be an idiot, tell me. I promise I won't judge you."

You took a deep breath again and opened your mouth. "It's because this place is not a place for introverts, Heather. You know, I loved that you wanted me for your company, but the music, the house, the people… none of that is for me. You adapt more in those places, you belong here, and I don't…"

"Shut. Up," she whispered, ruffling your hair. "Here, look, you can hold my hand if you want, if it makes you feel better."

And she reached out to you, taking you by surprise. Heather wasn't one to show affection anyway, so when she did, in the rare moments, you had to take advantage of it. Willing not to let her down - and secretly hoping you'd be okay with it - you took her hand and laced your fingers together.

Your racing heart was no longer due to anxiety, and looking into those clear eyes, you were sure you had already changed your target.

"How do you feel now? Better?" she whispered, laughing.

You nodded. "Much better."

"Cool," she sighed in relief. "I'm glad, you know… that I could help. And yet, it doesn't mean anything more than me wanting you to feel comfortable here. Nothing at all. Ever. God, that would be pretty awful."

You had to laugh, even though you admit that having Heather as something more than just a friend was a lot more interesting…

[thebottomfromhell]

We know the demons lost and in the context of courtship headcanon, what happened to their "marriage"? Like, who died first? The Upper Moons or their husbands? What are their last thoughts, especially for those left behind? Did that increase their hatred for hashiras/hunters in general? Were they just sad?! I hope you are well and don't overwhelm yourself, mainly because I saw that you updated a lot in the last few days, but every work of yours is a pleasure to read!

To be honest, I didn't want to add those details because depending on the reader's character it can change a lot. Like, a clumsy and reckless one could die because they lost track of time and got trapped under a shadow below the sun the same way a very capable one could die just because they had the bad luck of finding a Hashira when they were just chilling out.

I try to make PoV aproachable and and relatable, obviously keeping some traits that would benefit the relationship. Besides that, I like to let the reader project their idea.

Still, for it to be easy I can make a pointing of reader dying in or by canon events and what was more likely to happen. Demon male reader, of course. These ones stick to canon way too much, so you might end up disappointed.

Thank you pretty much, btw. I'm glad you enjoy what I write.

Warnings: Manga spoilers, Cannibalism, Character Death, Mentioned brutality, Reader's death, Angst.

Gyutaro:

You died before Gyutaro.

You were found by Uzui Tengen in the Enternaiment District Arc and beheaded at sight before you could react, just like Daki. Unlike her, you could not survive decapitation.

Gyutaro wasn't there, he was still inside Daki and isn't really aware of what it's happening at that state, so unless Daki calls him, he doesn't go out.

Uzui implied your death in the same statement he comfirmed he was great to Gyutaro after his speech of envy. Something in the line of "And no matter how many of you are, I will finish to kill all the demons here by daylight. As the most flamboyant Hashira, I will end my duty."

Gyutaro instantly knew, and it was the Ume situation all over again, so he went on rampage.

Uzui did die in this one, since Gyutaro started to tear him up even when he was down, even began eating him alive.

Watching this, Hinatsuru tried to help but also died.

Obanai decapitated Gyutaro from behind, comming up last second without the demon noticing as he was spreading Uzui's guts on the floor. Both Inosuke and Zenitsu still managed to defeat Daki.

Gyutaro started to curse everyone while dying, his last thought still being remembering his sister's name as he called her.

In between hell and heaven he hoped to find you in hell. He asked Ume before going with her in his back. "Do you think that Y/N will be there? Or thet he will still like me after I failed? Just a useless ugly freak?"

Ume comforts him instead of cry this time, projecting herself into the answer "Of course! Y/N is your husband and loves you! He will be mad if you ever think otherwise! I promise you he doesn't blame you for not being there! Nobody would!"

Gyokko:

You died before Gyokko.

Because he wanted to do art and would let his summounings do all the hard labor, he decided to bring you with him, to have a good time together between husbands in the Swordsmith Village Arc.

You got separated when you went to get more materials for his art, Kanroji Mitsuri found you first and decapitated you.

Because she and Gyokko never met, he didn't knew you died, so he even started conplaining of what was taking you so long when facing Muichiro.

Gyokko last thought about you were "You better be smart and scape before sunrise. At least you will remember me as the artist I am."

Hantengu Clones:

You died after the Clones.

Hantengu, Sekido and Aizetsu didn't want you there, and even if Urogi and Karaku did, the others convinced them that it was too dangerous since the village could be protected by a Hashira. There you were not taken to the Swordsman Village Arc.

When they began losing, your respective husband started to think desesperated that he wanted to see you again so badly. That is when Sekido forms Zohakuten.

Because they were being Zohakuten they didn't get to have any last thoughts about you.

Also, Zohakuten doesn't like you, no matter who you're husbands with. He is very protective towards the rest of Hantengu and you are glad he is barely formed because that kid is literally the personification of hatred. While he accepted that you are married, no matter what you do, he just doesn't like you.

You neither died with Muzan's death or got reckless with the slayers since you got used to having an Uppermoon protecting you.

Nakime:

You died after Nakime.

She kept you safe inside the castle, one of her main priorities was to make sure to keep you safe and for the Hashira to not find you in the Infinity Castle Arc.

While you found several slayers you had the territory you knew how it worked to your favor and used it to kill some and scape if things got hard.

Once she died the story got different, you knew she died the second the fortress no longer protected you.

Nakime last thoughts about you were "I'm sorry. And thank you. I wish I could tell him that."

You die at the hand of the slayers inside the castle, probaly by Murata's squad or Murata himself.

Akaza:

You died with Akaza.

He got scared for your safety, so he didn't take you to the Infinity Castle Arc. He was more worried for you than you were worried for him, which was funny and heartbreaking.

When Akaza discovers the origin of his constant fear of losing you, the second he gets back his memories, he was about to kill himself to be back with his beloved ones and repent.

Then Akaza remembers you are waiting for him. "Y/N! I can't go yet, Koyuki! I'm sorry, but my husbad-" she interrupt comforting him, telling him she is happy he found some happiness after everything. Koyuki also tells him she wants to meet you and that she'll wait for both of you.

He manages to scape the castle, the slayers and Muzan's control. He is threatened by your death, but fortunately Akaza finds you first.

You are scared, you feel him angry at both of you. "Akaza, what are you doing?!"

He doesn't get to explain anything, the second he puts his hands over you thinking "I love you so much, please don't die just yet!" both of you explode.

As a reward for his hard work, Kibutsuji Muzan kills you and Akaza at the same time.

Douma:

You died after Douma.

You had to cover his absence during the Infinity Castle Arc, so you stayed at his place while he was fighting even if he wanted you to go with him. You were confident he would come back just fine.

Douma still had attraction toward the canonical female characters, so he does confess his "love" towards Shinobu.

She still rejects him, and so he thinks about you, about the fact that you are waiting for him to go back.

"Well, what a pity. He will have to wait forever like an idiot! Shinobu-chan, you just made my consort an idiot!" He would say, but in the back of his mind he would think "I wish Y/N dies soon so we can be together."

You do die not lo long after, you desintegrate with Muzan's death and find Douma's head. "Oh, hi Y/N!"

Kokushibou:

You died after Kokushibou.

He wanted you out of the way, he didn't think you would be usefull in battle, so he left you back (oh,but he had no problems taking Kaigaku to the Infinity Castle Arc >:v)

This guy. Abandoned his wife. To chase. After. His. Brother.

This guy died out of shame and nothing about you convinced him to come back.

At least he had thoughts of you before leaving for good by his own will "Y/N.... you were good for me. Always so good. You deserve something better. Thank you for taking care of me."

You were still waiting for him when yo died, desintegrating after Muzan's death.

[willowfolksong]

lavender haze

Manjiro Sano "Mikey" x Reader

The interviewer has a nice smile and perfect manicured nails. You greet her with a hand shake that lasts long enough for a picture, and settle beside her with both of your arms behind your back.

"I know that you must get this everytime you give an interview" she tells you, and you were too distracted watching as they set up the cameras to notice that she has moved a step closer to you "But I'm just such a huge fan"

"Oh" you smile, because yes you've heard that a lot, but it never ceases to make you happy. You wish the joy of finding out people enjoy your music never leaves, or fades and turns into numbness at the face of everyone's admiration "Thank you so much!"

"I actually begged for them to let me do your interview before the ceremony"

You bring a hand to your chest and pout, and the interviewer giggles as a little girl and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

"That's so sweet of you, really"

"Whenever you're ready, we're recording now!" the guy behind the camera says, and you take a quick last look at your publicist to signal that you're okay, and then smile.

"So we're back and we're back in style!" the interviewer says, and her high pitched voice is miles away from her shy whispering just a few moments ago. "I have here with me none other than the literal star of the moment" when she turns to you, she does it with a dashing smile and a spark in her eyes "I'm so glad to have you here with me, I'm such a huge fan"

"Thank you so much!" you say again, and she nods excitedly.

"But let's be honest, who's not a fan of you right now? You're breaking records, have a new album coming out soon, and are nominated for none other than eight awards tonight!" she says, not missing a single beat while listing your merits "And all of this after your first album was a commercial success! Be honest, is it like a walk in the park this second time around?"

"What is?" you ask, even tho you definitely know what she means. You've learned that playing aloof from time to time helps to not make you look arrogant to the public.

"The record breaking, the awards, everything! Are you just kind of used to it already?"

You shake your head, careful of the curls your stylist spend hours on "Definitely not. I still can't believe all of this. I'm so happy and still having a hard time understanding what did I do to get this lucky"

And it's true. You're a small town girl that always thought her dreams were more than what she could chew. And somehow, you were the lucky one. You made it. One faithful afternoon that looked like an ordinary one to you, at the coffee shop where the owner used to let you play a couple of your songs for some share of the tips, you got scouted. And the rest was history.

There were still a lot of things you didn't quite understand in the famous people's world. Even if you were a big part of it now yourself. The envy, the need to pretend, the false friendships waiting round every corner. From some of them, you could protect yourself. You had your friends from high school, the unconditional ones. You were glad with the things you had achieved so far, and weren't really looking to stomp on anyone's foot. You tried to be yourself, as much as your publicist thought it was safe, at least.

But there were some other things, however...

"I know we're running out of time and that you almost have to go but I can't just not ask you this" the interviewer is saying, and for a split of a second, you genuinely believe that she's going to ask you more about your next album. About your actual work. The work that has consumed so much of your time, sweat, and even tears during those nights where you were just not sure of any lyrics anymore. For only a second, you forget that you're an actual A-lister now. "What does Mikey thinks about your new album?"

... some other things, are a bit harder to escape.

You're vaguely aware of your publicist shaking her head in disapproval out of the corner of your eye, but you smile and do your best to pretend this isn't the question you were expecting. Or the one you wanted, for that matter.

"Ahm... Mikey?" you ask, trying to win you some time.

The interviewer smirks. If she can sense your hesitation, she's doing a great job of pretending she actually doesn't. "Yeah! I mean, at this point, we all know you live together. Are any songs in the new album about him? Are we going to get any hints about the future?" she moves even closer, and the way she wiggles her eyebrows as if she's actually being funny, has you forgetting all the nice things she said to you "About any... possible wedding?"

"I'm sorry, but we really need to leave" your publicist comes to your rescue, and you let her maneuver you away from the camera with a small push. "I'm going to talk with them, don't worry" she whispers in your ear once you made it far enough "They told me it was just going to be something quick about tonight's awards"

...

Your night is more or less ruined after that silly, seemingly harmless question. The interview leaves such a bad taste on your mouth, that not even four glasses of champagne are able to wash it away. You win three of your eight nominations, including Artist of the Year. The speech you're supposed to give during the last one comes out as a messy blurb, and you just want to get back to your table to finish your fifth glass of the night.

Finally back in your seat, you catch your phone buzzing on your purse.

You have eleven texts from Mikey, and three pictures.

mikey 💖🏍️: you look so hot i wanna cry

mikey 💖🏍️: not going to do that but still. draken says hi and good luck.

mikey 💖🏍️: you're the fucking best.

[Picture attached]

mikey 💖🏍️: you looked so cute here, i'm gonna send this picture to takemichi to brag

You hide your laugh behind your hand, and make a quick inspection of your surroundings. No one else on the table seems to be paying attention to you, their eyes glued to the stage for the next award, so you go back to read your boyfriend's apparent live commentary of your performance for the night.

mikey 💖🏍️: a guy in your table is looking at you too much this is two times the camera catches him i'm going to google him

[Picture attached]

mikey 💖🏍️: congrats babygirl i knew you would win this!!!

mikey 💖🏍️: wtf this one should have gone to you as well. this show is rigged

[Picture attached]

mikey 💖🏍️: you looked so good during your speech i need to get you out of that dress immediately

mikey 💖🏍️: i miss you

mikey 💖🏍️: yeah another win for my baby! you're fucking destroying them!!

mikey 💖🏍️: draken won't stop looking at me i already told him i'm busy rooting for my baby

You leave Mikey's chat to find that you also have a text from Draken, and chuckle a little too louder at your boyfriend's childhood friend desperate message about taking away Mikey's phone, because they're supposed to be working on his bike.

You place your phone back to where it was before as soon as you feel the girl sitting on your right leaning over to take a peak. She gives you a sheepish smile.

"Bored already, huh?" she adds, rolling her eyes. You've known her for two years now. She's a very prominent rock vocalist "Honestly, this things should be shorter. I just wanna go home already"

You nod, and can't help but let your mind wander back to the probing questions that made your publicist cut short your previous interview. Back to the flaming curiosity people feel about your relationship. Back to how everyone seems to have an opinion, a theory to share, something to add to a narrative that has become such a public topic.

You remember the first article to come out after your relationship went public. You had been dating for a couple of months by then, and you were really excited to share the news with your fans, so you didn't mind when some paparazzis found the two of you on a date.

The first article ever written about you and Mikey's relationship wasted four pages on a list of ways your relationship could go sour. Reading it was such a punch to the gut, such a blow to your happiness, that you had decided then and there that you would turn a blind eye to every possible gossip about the two of you.

You were going to protect what you two had, no matter what.

At the cost of not being there, close to the race, cheering your boyfriend on as he came first. At the cost of not feeling the weight of his hand on yours while you walked the red carpet. At the cost of not having a normal date night around town, where the two of you could just walk closely together, counting the stars and sharing laughs.

Your relationship was not meant to be picked apart. The two of you would not become a list. What you had, would stay yours. And no one else.

That's the main reason why you only put your engagement ring back once you're home, when the cat you got as an engagement present from Chifuyu comes to greet you at the door, rubbing against your legs. You bend down to carry him with you to the living room, walking with an excited bounce in your steps even tho is technically three in the morning, and you should be dying of sleep.

But your fiance is there, on the couch, passed out over his phone, the light from the television still on in front him making his face glow in the dark. They're playing some special moments from tonight's ceremony, but you couldn't care less anymore.

"Hey, Manji" you call him, gently shaking him by the shoulder "I'm home now"

He opens one eye to peak at you from under his long dark lashes "Welcome back. I missed you so much"

"So much that you fell asleep?" you tease him.

That gets you dragged to the sofa, into Mikey's arms.

"You're trapped now. Can't leave anymore" he tells you, his voice raspy from sleep "No more award shows for you" your cat, feeling left out on the floor, meows loudly at the two of you "No, I won't let her go. She's mine"

"Yes, I'm yours" you whisper, snuggling against his chest and ignoring the way your dress will be all wrinkly when you (or Mikey, most likely) take it off. "And I wouldn't want to go anywhere else"

You just want to stay in the haze of your love forever.

This work belongs to my Midnights: Sleepless stories 🕰️ collection, a series of reader insert fics based on the album Midnight, by Taylor Swift, with characters from Haikyuu, Tokyo Revengers and Blue Lock. ✨

You can still send an ask if there's any character you would like to see in any particular song ✨

Last: carnations you had thought were roses, that's us. Next: falling in love, again

[blimbosworlddd]

Nirvana: A Rock Lee Tale (Chapter 1)

Summary: Your dating life is terrible. Your friends’ marriage is fantastic. Your career as a medic was doing great, though. But you aren’t that happy. However, after one quick trip to the Mighty Rock Dojo, you stumble upon the most magnificent man you’ve ever met- the taijutsu master- Rock Lee.

Notes: slow burn fic, afab/fem/black chubby reader.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, (light) descriptions of blood and violence. Usage of the N word. The reader and Lee are in their late 20s but virtually any age group that is 18 and up can enjoy this story. Again 18+, minors do not interact… pls.

Word count: 2.6k

Masterlist

Next Chapter

You are lonely. So lonely.

Your friends tell you that you’re young and shouldn’t chase and should wait for the right person and should focus on yourself and all that jazz. But there is nothing else you can do but wait; your career as a medic is finally blossoming beyond your imagination, you’re taking care of yourself as best you can, yet dating apps are full of people you aren’t attracted to. And the ones who did interest you either don’t hit you up or stop engaging.

You feel worthless sometimes, like no matter how beautiful or poised you come off, that one person who you dream of spoiling and loving you is only that- a dream. You always feel like you'll never be fully appreciated. You know you deserve someone who takes care of you, but no matter how painful it is you always keep pushing. You never have time to drown in self-pity. At the end of the day, people still love and support you. That’s why you went on a date with some guy Temari and her husband, Shikamaru, put you on.

You always envied their relationship; they’ve been going strong since college, watching them grow and evolve as they fall deeper in love with each other. It’d make you quietly turn away and scowl every time they’d hold hands or smile into their kisses. Your date’s name is Sai. You went out a couple of times beforehand, and actually enjoyed his time; he was a smooth talker with a serene vibe who allowed you to be the corny goofball you are when comfortable. Especially when he’d crack deadpan jokes and tease you. The conversations you had held weight and authenticity.

Y’all are on your third date, walking the night streets of the city while eating rolled ice cream. The stroll is silent but tolerable, ignoring the fact that Sai hadn’t talked much throughout the day.

"Did you enjoy our date?" Sai quips, eyebrows rising inquisitively.

You swallow the melting treat and nod your head.

"Yup!" You lie. "What about you?"

Sai looks down at the remnants of ice cream in his cup before stopping in his tracks.

“Y/n, I think you’re really cool,” he prompts.

Fuck me, you think.

"But I don't see us being any more than good friends. I don't feel any excitement when I'm with you. Plus, my ex and I wanna get back together so... Yeah."

While nodding spitefully, your plump lips press together in a tight line.

"Goodbye, Sai." You turn around and walk the opposite direction.

"Should I get you an uber?" He calls out.

You simply wave your hand without looking back. You’re glad you didn’t fuck him anyways, since you already learned the hard way of fooling around while easily susceptible to attachment. That's how you got your heart broken. And you've healed, still healing, but trust is earned. And your time requires effort now.

You shut your apartment door with a foot and lock it before kicking off your heels. Tossing your keys on the living room table, you pad your way to the nearest couch and plop your face on the mattress.

Your eyes sting at the despair of it all, wondering if this love shit is only magical for some. You bring your vibrating phone closer to your face, only to see that it's Shikamaru. You sigh in contemplation, glaring at the TV across from you before reluctantly answering the call.

"Heyyy." Your voice drawls out in a feeble attempt at sounding happy.

"How was your date?" He sounds groggy, like he just woke up from one of his daily naps.

You gulp, eyes widening in shame. "It was - uhhh.”

You hear shuffling on your friend's end, waiting patiently for your response as he opens his refrigerator for snacks.

"Do you think I'm boring?" You whisper, as if you’re unraveling this big secret.

The noise ceases on the other side.

"He dropped you, didn't he?" He deadpans.

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

Shikamaru scoffs. "Fuck him. Don't let some dude you only met 3 times ruin the rest of your week.

"Mhmm." You hear people say that all too often for your liking.

"He said I didn't excite him. Whatever the hell that means."

"That's really a drag, y/n. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you. But you're not boring at all, it's his loss. Not yours.”

You curl up in a ball and stare at your TV screen, listening to your friend unwrapping a candy bar.

"Hey listen," he takes a bite from the frozen chocolate.

“Instead of sulking in your dark little hole till you find another date, how about you come with Mari and me to meet a good friend?"

"Whoring me out again are we?"

"Damn, was it that obvious?" He sighs tiredly at your lewd sarcasm.

“Anyway, he runs a dojo that his sensei founded. Called the Mighty Rock Dojo."

"Stupid name." You comment petulantly.

"Yeah I know." He snorts. "We'll pick you up at ten am if you want, a change in scenery could help with your... perspective on life."

"S'okay, you can say I’m depressed.”

“Yeah, well I think this could help, even a little bit. Didn't you always watch those Bruce Lee movies when you were a kid? Rush Hour? The Karate Kid?"

“Yeah but-“

"This could unlock good memories for you. Make you feel like you belong?"

"I don't fight though," you reason.

"No need. Just watch."

Your eyebrows furrow in deep worry. While his offer is tempting, you do not see how attending a dojo can fix your love life. Maybe you could just use some innocent excitement for once.

"Alright, alright." You whine, cursing your schedule for making you free tomorrow. “Ten am you said?"

"That's my girl,” You side eye your phone: he hasn’t called you that since y’all broke up. “And yes, we'll pick you up at ten. Now go to sleep.”

After he angs up, you set your timer on your phone and toss it on the table beside you.

-

You are not a morning person; eyes burning from fresh sleep as you ponder whether you should fling your roaring alarm across your wall. You don’t really know what to wear at a dojo, so you decide on more casual clothing for the day. When you feel like you're all caught up on your morning routine, notifications of Temari texting you to come downstairs pop up on your phone.

You greet the couple as you enter their jeep and sit in the back, enjoying the faint aroma of cinnamon in the air.

"You ready to see some sick ass-whooping?" Temari snarls.

"You know it, girl." You snigger. She is a breath of fresh air, you’re beyond grateful for people who are more unserious than you at times.

The ride is peaceful; sun rays dancing through the windows, a lofi playlist tuning in the background to set a nice vibe. You'd doze off if you weren't getting eager to see what this dojo's all about.

"So Pineapple, who is this friend of yours?"

"Rock Lee." Shikamaru grumbles while staring ahead, spiky ponytail peaking above the headrest. You call him "pineapple” when you're feeling goofy, and he hates that his wife picked up that foolish nickname on him soon after.

“He's been the master of the dojo ever since his sensei, Might Guy, retired 5 years ago," Temari adds.

You hum in acknowledgment. At the time of arrival, your eyes droop a bit at how... unimpressive the outside looks. Very bland letters that spell out the text of the establishment's name. you wouldn't consider it a dojo without the word dojo being on the big sign. You groan in pending boredom.

A ceiling bell jingles as you enter, the first step inside the dojo and your face is smothered with the pungency of feet. Usually, you would turn right back around with a cringe and escape such an aggressive odor, but the man before you makes it exceptionally difficult to look away:

Beads of sweat decorate the contours of his neck and chest. An impeccable horse stance coils his body like a spring; perfect posture, plump ass sitting in a squat that shows the subtle bulge of his thighs through the fabric of his Gi; knees spread apart and each one bent at a 90 degree angle; left arm firmly folded behind his back while the other has his front palm facing him, slender fingers pointing up and pressed together like a blade. His hands and wrists are wrapped in white bandages that you assume would help secure the worn skin beneath. He’s in the midst of a match; his intense, unblinking gaze holding both his opponent and the onlookers in rapt attention. Every move is a display of disciplined grace and raw physical power. Every strike, every dodge, every block- they all hold tactical precision unlike any other. It's why he never took a single blow.

You don't look away, leaning closer to Shikamaru.

"What technique is he using?" You mumble in fascination.

Your friend chuckles, sighing quietly after.

"Taijutsu. An ancient martial art that his sensei put on the map a few decades back. Last time I checked, this'll be Lee's 40th beaten opponent this week."

"Well damn." You grunt.

But how unexpected was it? He looks like an ancient warrior, like he loves what he’s doing. So much so, that the physical agony seems a necessity for his strength. That's why a dozen surround him in awe of his mastery.

The atmosphere is electric, growing anticipation of how this battle will end thickens the air. Lee's opponent is bruised up, battered figure wobbling side to side just to cope with the damage already done to him. All Lee has to do is wait a few moments, not moving an inch until he watches him fall to his knees, and collapse on the matted floor. The victor blinks a couple of times with a deep inhale, you can hear the timbre of his voice when he releases his breath.

"Heh. Some things never change," Temari scoffs with a knowing smile.

Relaxing his arms at the applauding crowd, Lee stands straight and bows to his beaten contestant, whispering a “thank you” for showing his dedication and strength: Lee slowly grabs his arm and hooks it over his shoulder to help lift his body, walking him to a nursing room in the back of the dojo so he can tend to his injuries. An idea pops into your head, kicking off your street shoes to trot past the crowd and follow them. You decide that since you're a medical professional, you'd assist the fighter in his hospitality. You get steadily closer until you find him looking in the cabinets for certain remedies.

"Got antiseptic with cotton balls?"

Lee jolts to face you while still crouched under the counter, hitting his head against the hard surface.

Your hand covers your mouth in mortification.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't worry, my friend!" He chuckles sheepishly while rubbing the back of his head. "Just didn't expect anyone to come in yet, haha!"

You smile at his reassurance, not expecting the depth of his voice; a low bass overshadowed by whimsical friendliness every time he speaks.

"Ahh okay. Still have any antiseptic with cotton balls?"

"Oh, yeah! Need some?"

"No, but your friend does.”

Lee lowers his hand, turning his head to the man who lay on a thin mattress, and turns back to look at you.

"You want to help him?"

"Mhm!" You chirp, digging in your bag for your wallet to show him your license. Lee raises his hands up at your insistence.

"Y-You don't need to prove yourself to me! I appreciate the help. His eyes crinkle shut with a toothy smile.

You were thinking of ways to make it falter, like caressing the area where his neck and jaw meet or brushing your thumb along his bushy eyebrows. You could see how strong he is, and you want to feel it this time. You've never considered his textbook features attractive, but he makes them look too endearing to dislike.

After swiping a bag full of cotton from the upper cabinet, Lee notions you to come closer with a wave.

Walking to stand beside him, you analyze the man's wounds. Gently pressing your fingers throughout his body, you fail to spot any alarmingly tender areas.

Lee hands you a cotton swab with a bottle of antiseptic.

"Nun too serious." You murmur while squirting the solution on the cotton. "He'll be fine.”

He nods with a hum, watching you gently dab the damp material on the fighter's bloodied face.

"What's his name?"

"Neji. We've known each other since childhood."

There was a lilt of fondness in Lee's tone when regarding the man you're patching up.

Neji winces when you clean a certain cut above his eyebrow, making you pause with caution.

"Oop, sorry Neji. I'm almost done," You coo.

Lee watches in awe at how graceful and precise your movements are when treating his friend, the subtle focus in your stare as you put your training to use impresses him even more. He couldn't be that delicate with someone if he tried. He clears his throat.

"H-How did you learn about the dojo?"

You look up in quick thought before flickering your eyes down to the task at hand.

"The Naras brought me here."

Lee's eyes glow up like light bulbs.

"Shika knows you?!"

You snort at the cute nickname.

"Yeah. We've been friends since high school. Him and Temari think this place would be a... more cathartic way to spend my time."

You appreciate the couple for thinking of you, really. But it's still kind of embarrassing that they know how much of a loner you are. Lee places a hand on his hip while the other rubs his chin, eyes closing to reminisce about a familiar time in his life.

"Ahh, I remember when I had nothing better to do than work at the dojo. It got so bad that Shika stepped in to show me a more casual way of life. I didn't stop wearing my sense's hand-me-downs till last year!"

You giggle at how open he is to someone he just met. Lee didn't expect your sultry voice to allure him so easily when you laughed. He wants to make you do it again.

*Yeah," you agree. *He's like a dad friend."

"He IS a dad friend."

Both laughing heartily in unison, you wrap up Neji's treatment and return all the equipment you used.

"All he needs is a few day's rest and he'll be good as new." You look down at Neji who's sound asleep, sighing in pride at your handiwork.

"My name is Rock Lee, but I'd like it if you called me Sensei Lee. What's yours?"

"Y/n. It's nice to meet you, Sensei."

You love the way he looks down at you with those big round eyes. His grin is calm, radiating silent confidence.

"You'd be a great addition to our dojo, y/n.” You love the way your name rolls off his tongue. But your skin crawls at what that might say about you.

"You think so?"

"Know so! Every time I patch up my students, they say I'm too rough. But you're obviously a pro.”

You quietly scoff in shyness, the thought of being a nurse for a bunch of fighters never passed your mind till now. Lee blinks a few times in concern.

"I can pay you, if that's the issue."

You shake your head abruptly, "I already have a well-paying job. Plus I couldn't do my best if it's only for the money."

”Yes, of course."

He is too good at eye contact and manners. You beg yourself to act right.

"I'll think about it,” you conclude. “What's your number for the meantime?"

After he gives you his phone, you bid each other farewell. When you reunite with the Nara's you tell them everything that went down in the nursing room.

Shikamaru smirks knowingly, turning towards his car.

“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Anyways, I want brunch."

"Meals are on me for introducing a new hobby!"

"This is why we love y/n."

"Don't get used to it," you warn playfully.

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[lorelune]

hi lore!! since u reblogged it i feel like i can take this as an excuse to gush abt how much i love dreamers envy. u managed to write such an interesting piece so eloquently, especially with the readers pov switching between being The Reader and being dan feng. that’s such a genuinely difficult feat to pull off and u did it so so well. i also think it’s probably one of the most in-character fics i’ve read for dan heng, u captured his canon character perfectly. sorry for the parapragh, i just think ur such an amazingly talented writer and that fic truly has me rattling the bars of my enclosure lol. anyway thank u for ur hard work and i hope u have a wonderful day! ♡

ANON!! 🥺💓!! thank you the kindness and love!! i appreciate it so much <3

dreamer's envy was such an interesting piece to write like!! truly dan heng was not a character i super latched onto at first, but i REALLY have come to love df/yx as i've read so much ship fic for them over the last year and really delved into their lore. they are very beloved to me.

dreamer's envy came from just the fragment of an idea-- "what if dh was haunted by nasty sex dreams from df about yx and reader offers to help him forget" and it kinda like!! exploded from there. df's pov was genuinely sooo much fun to write. and getting to write df/yx having nasty sex too was like...healing... and dh tries so hard. he was supposed to a PILLOW PRINCESS in dreamer's envy anon but he kinda like. grabbed the reigns himself and actuated as a soft, shyer service top. he was such an interesting character to explore, and i'm so glad that you enjoyed the fic anon :'^)

[totaldramafan-lauri]

Okay. OKAY. Okay. Ms. Lauri… do I have some WORDS for YOU!!

First of all: I LOVED CHAPTER 10!!!

Smoked Cheese Cookie… I’ve got mixed feelings on the guy!!! Always have. The way you write him is must *mwah 👌* excellent! He feels so in-character!

Things have been rocky between him and Reader… but the ending of this chapter gives me hope that they might be able to live on more amicable terms. He wants us to return and prove him wrong! He even gave us our weapons back :’)!! (He’s expressing that he cares… even if it’s only a teensy weensy bit!!)

And our dear Reader. Their anxieties during the first third of the chapter were so real and understandable. The way they jumped to conclusions regarding Golden Cheese’s recent absences is EXACTLY how I would have reacted/felt as well. I’m glad that we were shown otherwise by Her Radiance herself…

MOZZARELLA SAYING THAT THE ROLE OF ‘CONSORT’ SUITS US… I WANTED TO DIE OF EMBARRASSMENT. How much does she know… HOW MUCJ DOES SHE KNOWW!!! 😭😭 And then Burnt Cheese… GOOODDD. I WAS SO EMBARRASSED. I WANTED TO DIIIEE. But I’m glad that Reader chose to ask him instead of Her Radiance because… that would have killed me forreal. (I can can imagine how amused she would be if we ever asked… she’d probably laugh too, like Mozzarella did… I would not survive.)

And now, my favorite part of the chapter: The fondue springs scene.

When we walked by and we saw Golden Cheese with her two servants… ough. I immediately felt like we were intruding. And… I was… perhaps… perchance… a little… jealous….

My heart leapt to my THROAT when she called out to us and asked us to join them. I felt so CONFLICTEDDD. I oh so desperately wanted to join her, but I also didn’t want to see the servants touching her so… tenderly 😔

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting of Her Radiance in that situation, but I was (pleasantly) surprised when she was so openly affectionate with us!! It almost felt like she was showing us off ><..

I also wonder what she was thinking in that moment… she probably sensed our yearning but did she also sense our envy? Our insecurity?

(Might be a stretch, but I almost felt as if she was trying to warm us up to the idea of being around servants… mayhaps to get us used to it for the long term; easing us into a new lifestyle. Is she planning to bring us around more? I wonder if Mozzarella’s suggestion of ‘consort’ holds any weight to it…)

Also, when the servants asked if we wanted to watch them preen Her Radiance’s wings… I yelled at the screen!! YES!!! I WANT TO!!!

I hope we learn how to do it ourselves eventually!!! I’d love to be able to tend to her like that.

And of course, the ending of the chapter. I was incredibly sad that we had to leave again :’( But Reader is so courageous for volunteering to guide the messenger back to their kingdom!! No one else could have suited the job better, honestly. Her Radiance has faith in us as well, so I’m sure that it will all go smoothly! (Unless you have other plans in store for us…)

With that we are coming to our last chapter! I’m as excited as I am sad… it’s bittersweet to see a good thing come to an end. You’ve written a wonderful fic, Lauri!! And I wish you luck in sticking the landing!!! I’m also looking forward to that trivia chapter :]c

Thank you for writing this amazing story!

— 🐝

H-holy CRAP, bee anon....Hi to you, too! XD I-it's been a while....I was curious how you felt, but.....y-yowza.....! Putting it all out there at once, huh....?

I'm glad that someone enjoyed Mozzarella's consort troll.....w-well, maybe "enjoyed" isn't the right word, if you felt so much secondhand embarrassment? B-but, that also counts as it doing it's job, pffff....I-it was also supposed to be funny, but that works too, especially if you've been in similar situations....Y'know, not knowing what something means, asking about it, and shame ensues when it hits you what it is.....Hey, it happens....! XD

As for how much Mozzarella knows.....well, she hasn't spelled it out to Reader in-universe, but I still tried to make it obvious in the last two chapters, uh.....Y-yeah, she knows about their crush. She's known for a whiiiiiiile, at that. X//////D Which is part of why she said she cheered when she learned they became part of the kingdom, like.....she knew it was gonna happen, so it was a "FINALLY" moment for her. XD Yeah, she's been subtley pushing them to learn about how they feel for quite a while, so maybe, if you ever reread the old chapters, you'll be able to pick up on the hints. Mozzarella is a subtle character who keeps a lot of what she thinks about a mystery, but also.....y'know, she was definitely trying at multiple points to make things easier for them.....and she mostly failed cuz of how much they hid that part of themselves XD

Th-the springs scene.....hnnnnn....I-I have a fun fact about that scene that I'm saving for the trivia page, but....in short: I adore how that scene turned out. It's probably my second-fav part of the chapter (with my fav being the short scene of Reader begging) >//////> R-Reader at first hates the idea of having to speak about their relationship to others (explaining it to Burnt Cheese nearly killed them, haha), only for Golden Cheese to tell them they don't have to say anything, and she'll take care of it all....because no one can stop her.....There's nothing to be afraid of....s-so, all they have to do is focus on her....and it makes them feel a lot better about being seen in public.....I-I dunno how well it comes across, but for me, I-I'm proud of how I did it....p-partly because I like the idea....I-I feel like relationships with her would be like that....B-being shown off....l-like that.....to her servants.....wh-while she does all the talking, and.....y-yeah.....I-I'm rambling, s-sorry......>//////< (Y-you can't tell me she WOULDN'T, say...slam you a-against a wall in public view of others in the palace w-without any shame at all, c'mon- Sh-she's in charge, sh-she does what she wants-)

I-I'm also glad that you find Reader relatable still....They're basically their own character now, with their own arc, but I-I still wanna make them feel like they could be any of us, y-y'know...? Whenever they feel insecure and overthink things to try to make sense of them, that's basically me putting myself into them.....XD

B-but yeah, th-thanks for sharing your thoughts with me....! I-I'll try my best to get the next chapter done soon-ish, but I JUST started it, so I make no promises yet...S-sorry for the cliffhanger, but feel free to speculate how you think the story will end, I guess....? L-like, to yourself, not to me, cuz I'm not gonna say anything~ ^^

(I-I like the idea of touching/grooming her wings, too....b-but sh-she'd absolutely scold me if I did it the wrong way, so....h.tjtresghejrjhdds......t-terrifying at the same time....X///////D)

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hii, loved what you wrote!! I would like to request something else about Daemon.

Reader is Rhaenyra's older sister but is overlooked by Viserys, choosing her as heir even if she's younger than Reader and during the years she gets a bad reputation, like her children with Harwin and bad attitude over anyone.

Reader is married with Daemon, who's in love with her and nothing happens with Rhaenyra and he doesn't get exiled seeing as after the weddong they live on Dragonstone.

On Driftmark after Leana's funeral, where the children fights with Aemond, one of reader and Daemon child gets hurt, on the confrontation in the hall Daemon demands justice for his child and Rhaenyra shows her true colors, seeing as she was always jealous about them.

Viserys sees Rhaenyra for who she truly is and finally does something, like disinheir her and choosing reader or sonething else.

You choose the finale. Thanks

Although you did not specify what writing of mine you loved, i am glad that you love it. <3 im not taking requests right now my love. i still have many in my req that i want to write but cant seem to bring myself to do it, which is why i have been distracting myself with pedro pascal HAHHAH.

I gotta say, i'm really intrigued (slightly concerned) a lot of you seem to enjoy pitting sister!reader and sister!rhaenyra together T_T since i cant wont be writing this, let me tell you how i think this would play out.

visy is a girl dad™ and i see no reason for im to favor rhaenyra more than his first born daughter!reader, because she would have been his and aemma's first child. thus, i would think, he purposefully skipped her because perhaps she has always been a wild spirit, a true dragon, and her traits were more roguish (remind you of anyone) ah yes, which is why she ends up with kepus evil daddy daemon HAAHH

"you and i can rule the world together in fire and blood," -daemon at their wedding probably

then when push comes to shove and that confrontation scene happens and sister-sisters fight, i feel like viserys wouldnt outright disinherit rhaenyra, but yn would 100% use the same line rhaenyra did to alicent, 'it must be exhausting... etc' she would then basically say to everyone, 'you may resent me for not inheriting the throne, you may envy me for my freedom, i may have became the heir and i the spare but you will not hurt my children."

smth like that.

perhaps a third faction would arise in support for them, the greens, the blacks and the rogues, maybe daemon would be like BABE ITS UR BIRTHRIGHT but idk reader might just smack him in the face for wanting to start civil war with her sister, his niece. no no no baddies only we do not star civil wars not us.

DAMN i hope you like this nonnie <3

[masschase]

V and O for the fic ask game :)

Fanfic ask meme

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Ooooh I feel awful because I can't think of any that I would do that to?

It's actually incredibly weird that I wrote such a long fic because I mostly read one-shot smut and even then I've not read much recently.

And while I love interpreting canon... I wouldn't want to fuck up other people's interpretation of the canon, y'know?

I already get so scared doing my silly cartoons of people's Bosses and wondering if I'm fucking it up somehow.

Sorry this is kind of a cop-out answer but yeah. I would only do this if the writer asked me to, and under that circumstance, I'd probably enjoy the fuck out of it.

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

Y'know for a second I was confused about this question bc I was thinking... it's fanfic, we already have the characters? But then I realised this was more about characterisation of the characters so... actually the plot first, definitely!

I didn't know who Casey was beyond "SR4 female voice 1 Boss" when I first decided to write this. Her characterisation came to me bit by bit, much as the readers get it, although not quite in the same order as I didn't write it linear. I didn't feel there was any other option than to make her the Boss throughout all games even though my SR1 Boss was some random guy haha.

I've spoken about this before but at one point that's all she was going to be. The Boss. I knew she had to have a name eventually (for ch30 related reasons) and that it needed to be gender-neutral. I wasn't going to describe her physically, really. But as the story got longer and required more depth I found I was giving her some serious backstory. So at that point I thought... why not just write her the way she is in my head?

I'm glad I did because it let me factor in so many things. Why people mistook her for a boy in 2006. Matt not recognising her in 2016 because she looked so different/disguised her appearance in 2014. The feeling of her image being very controlled in 2016. The thing of her 2016 self envying her 2022 self's blue hair 🤣

Matt's characterisation was obviously a little easier to work out, but still plenty of things about his history came to me a little at a time. I always hope I write him at least somewhat consistent with how others see him.

Something I always have in the back of my mind when I write Matt is that he's always kind of scared and awkward. He's the quintessential Cowardly Lion trope. He doesn't have this moment's hesitation and then get over it. He remains terrified but still does the badass thing because he knows he has to. He feels the fear and does it anyway.

The same goes for every other character, really. It took a while to think about their motives, their backstory etc. because a lot of it wasn't immediately relevant. But I love that I got to work in some sort of headcanon for almost all of them eventually.

But yeah, I started with the plot and the voices. Just having the voice of a character in my head is so key to writing their dialogue and even their actions for me. If I'm not sure I'm writing them right I go and listen to cutscenes/voice clips to be sure. And when I read, I definitely read in their voices.

Semi-related. Sometimes I think I should've made Jane Austen the narrator. Casey's POV means I have to write the way she thinks, and I know that won't be to everyone's taste. And I'm 100001% certain I sometimes write those thoughts sounding far too british. Excusable for the 2022 Boss Matt's bestie Boss. Not so much for the 2016 one 🤣

Anyway, thank you for the ask! This was fun!

[orchidyoonkook]

My favorite fic of yours: Under The Willow Tree, which I know you know, but I never get tired of talking about it. Every word of this fic is written on my heart. 💘

5. A fic of yours I haven't read but want to: I had just barely started TWWWBAATTA just before heading into my stormy period where I didn't do hardly any reading or writing. It was lovely and your JK is such a cutie and a knock-out, and I'm excited to continue it soon!

8. What I most like about your writing: Firstly, your emphasis on nature and your use of it and its imagery to contribute to the feeling and setting of your plots and scenes. The way that you communicate beauty is really romantic and poetic and I DIG IT. Also, I feel like you are very confident in your characters and who they are - this comes across strongly in your writing and is something I greatly envy.

11. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE WRITE MORE SMUT IN THE FUTURE. Now that The Devil Wears Valentino is out there, the cat is out of the bag - you have an incredible gift for filth, my friend.

12. A fic of yours that I've reread: There are legit chunks of UTWT that I could recite by heart on command.

LOVE YOU BB 🥰🥰🥰

VIOLET HOLY SHIT???!!!??? Literally what did I ever do to deserve such amazing humans around me like??? What god am I in the favour of cuz I need to set up an alter for them rq:

Onto! (this is literally so long im so sorry)

DUDE. I'm on the ground 50 yards away from where i just was cuz thats how hard you've blown me away rn.

1. My favorite fic of yours: Under The Willow Tree, which I know you know, but I never get tired of talking about it. Every word of this fic is written on my heart. 💘

I love how much you love them. And I'm so very glad to have been able to have made something so special to you. It's truly my honour.

5. A fic of yours I haven't read but want to: I had just barely started TWWWBAATTA just before heading into my stormy period where I didn't do hardly any reading or writing. It was lovely and your JK is such a cutie and a knock-out, and I'm excited to continue it soon!

A stormy period??? Did I know about this and completely by accident flake on you??? I'm so sorry if I did. I'm always here I hope you know what. (And please pardon my god awful memory. Short term memory loss sucks so much.)

And never any pressure to read, but when and if you do I hope you enjoy!!! TWWWBAATTA is my brain baby. My first fic and by far the longest thing I've ever written. I love them so much and I hope you will to, but I also understand how daunting getting into a big series is, so literally no pressure at all. You've already been kind enough to me to last a life time <<33

8. What I most like about your writing: Firstly, your emphasis on nature and your use of it and its imagery to contribute to the feeling and setting of your plots and scenes. The way that you communicate beauty is really romantic and poetic and I DIG IT. Also, I feel like you are very confident in your characters and who they are - this comes across strongly in your writing and is something I greatly envy.

WHY IS IT MAKE YOON CRY NIGHT???!!!!!! Im sobbing. I'm facedown in my pillow. A walking waterfall of tears. I dont even know what or where the hell to begin with this. So i'll do what i do best and let my brain vomit on my creative process a lil bit:

i dont even realise i do this until after, the emphasis on nature and imagery and setting plots and scenes. But for me to understand a story, i need a place where i can see the characters, i need to know their place in that setting, and i need a bit of background that sets everything.

-> For UTWT, that was the solace of the tree in the shitty hometown for reader, a reader who's desperate to leave, why they want to leave, and then i give them something. in this case yoongi.

-> for TDWV that was the bar. Why a bar? it's where creatures of the night can go to destress becuase even they aren't always "on." and then why is reader there as a mortal, oh shes a bartender, but that gives her special priveledges with the other species becuase now they cant do anything to her, so shes safe. except for the one thing that disrupts her night. the one thing that goes bump in the night for her. and so how do i take that a step further? I make him obscenely powerful, so powerful that the people who kill her kind for fun are scared of him. And then to seal the deal? I make the big scary man care for the one thing he's supposed to see as less than dirt. I make her special. And you learn this all early on in the story. It cements the who what where when why and you learn the how as you go.

and then when im describing a setting and using things to cement the reality of my stories i go into almost a trance and literally insert myself into it to pick out the details. Visualization is something i've always had "a gift" for. It why i usually dont draw with references, and can look at something crafty and just "know" how to make it. So i guess thats how i do that.

-> like in UTWT. I am the tree and the reader and yoongi. I'm the wind around them and the pond watching them learn to love one another. I'm the motorcycle and the books and the leather jacket shielding them from the rain. I have to be everything to be able to write it the way i see it.

-> and in TDWV i was the bar and the music notes and the black tiled floors. I was yoongi and the reader and the banshees on the balcony and the other creatures. I put myself into everything and think about what they see. what they hear. what do they look like. How do they feel. whats their background, and i think that's why they feel so confident to you. I just - know - everything about them. i need to. to fake it till i make it. to baffle with my bullshit.

as for romance and poetic-ness(?). I've said this before, but it makes me laugh in a good way cuz if you know me irl you know i am the least poetic person alive and i dont do romance. Like i dont even let my partner get me treats bigger than a chocolate bar. (I am learning to be better tho.) So the fact that my writing is two things I am very much not in my waking life, it just goes to show how many sides a person has.

11. (*Something I wish/hope you write) FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE WRITE MORE SMUT IN THE FUTURE. Now that The Devil Wears Valentino is out there, the cat is out of the bag - you have an incredible gift for filth, my friend.

dude i was so so scared for the smut. i told you in dms but like i was sweating BUCKETSSSSS. I followed the same process i just described, but then i also had to go over the scene with a completely unsexual, professional and almost sterile eye. I had to think about what would work here. what would work there, should i switch out this word. I should come up with a more creative way to say that, because everyone writes it that way (not that theres anything wrong with that, it's just personal choice.)

and so for example, I'll go with something you pointed out recently from TDWV:

*NSFW INCOMING*

That filthy line when instead of saying he cums, you wrote "as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white." Like, how DARE you?? No one talk to me. I'M NOT OKAY

I've seen this exact thing written as "he paint your walls white" and thats fine. that gets the point across, but i wanted this scene to hit different, i wanted it to show how engrossed he is and she is in this. And so i switched up my words to create a more sensually graphic imagine in the readers head.

and your reaction is all the proof i needed to know it worked the way i wanted it too. And these arent things i think of on the fly in my rough draft. These are things I sit with and brainstorm and tweak to make just right so i get the mental image i want.

*END NSFW PART*

12. A fic of yours that I've reread: There are legit chunks of UTWT that I could recite by heart on command.

Maybe one day i'll test you on this. (jokes) BRO THATS SO FLATTERING LIKE WHAT???!?!!!?!?! I CANT EVEN BEGIN TO COMPREHEND THAT.

LOVE YOU BB 🥰🥰🥰

I WILL BET MY ASS AND YOURS I LOVE YOU MORE <<<<<333333333333

[zepskies]

Hey, lovely!! Lol yep this one started kinda rough, huh? 😂 But I thought it was on-brand for Benjamin.

I know bens got a reason here, don’t get me wrong but the reader has the patience of a saint dealing with him most of the time, I must say 😂 and it’s so tough to read how grouchy and short he is with the reader and know the reason but also know he won’t want to admit his feelings because he’s solider boy and that’s not how he works.

That's exactly the frustration I intended here lol. Like we know we he's being an ass, but he's still being an ass. She absolutely has enormous patience for him (she has to in order to be with this man). Getting him to admit his "man feelings" is a struggle for which I don't envy the reader lol.

I'm also glad you liked the line she toted here between patience and not taking his shit. He needs to learn how to express himself better, not just through belligerence and anger lol (Beauty and the Beast moment!).

I loved this line because yes, hes going about it wrong but at the end of the day Ben is just trying to be protective. It hurts to see how much that dream really has rattled him.

Yeah, I really did feel for him, even in his anger. We know the root of it is exactly that -- how rattled he truly was by his dream, even though he'd rather not admit it.

I found this really sad though because it’s absolutely true of how Ben feels but the reality is in his dream he was with her and he didn’t save her and that’s got to be killing him just as much as the thought of her dying in any circumstance.

I'm SO glad you commented on this, because that's another thing I hoped people would pick up on underneath. He'll probably never admit that "he couldn't save her," which ties into his pride as well. But he at least admits that "he lost her" (and she can infer how deeply that thought affects him).

But again, the reader is so good for him. She’s smart enough to put all the pieces together and get to the crux of the issue and finally tease it out of him.

At this point, they've just been through so damn much together. She knows him too well not to know where this is coming from. But her earnestness always breaks him down eventually. 🥲

I could literally quote so much here; I particularly loved this line though “Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things.” Because damn 🥹

Aww thank you so much, lovely!! @deans-spinster-witch gave me the idea for that line in her request. ❤️❤️ I thought it was apt for their relationship, even though (again) he'd rather not admit to any of these things.

I also loved the reader gave him her reasons; it gave him more understanding of the situation. Obviously we happily know that she has her supe STD 😂😂 so all is good, but I liked this addition to the overall story.

Yeah I think her reasoning to be against taking Compound V was something that was kind of implied in BMD, but again, thanks to the prompt it encouraged me to flesh it out. It's fun at this point because we "know" what happens in Strong as Blood, but this little pair of imagines fills in some of the gaps in a way I wasn't expecting to write. 💚

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased” this was such a good way of relieving some of the tension and heaviness of this, it literally made me laugh out loud.

Hahaha I'm glad you liked that bit. She takes any chance she gets to tease him for his past proclivities. 🤣

I’m glad he compromised in the end and the reader was totally for it haha!

She's the only one he compromises for! 😂 But of course, when there's sex on the table it's not a hard sell for Benjamin. 😂😂

As always, I loved this! I love this whole verse and your version of Ben. Great job 💕

Aww again, thank you so much! I'm so, so glad you enjoyed it. It was fun coming back to these two. It actually took me a bit to get the hang of them again after being in Smoke Eater land for so long! But I plan to come back to these two in the near future. 💕💕

Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about is “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.  

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[olivyh]

YOUR WRITING IS SERIOUSLY CRAZY GOOD!!! i love it so much..!!! makes me tear up a little../pos

was wondering if you could make something similar to your ruggie x reader 'Tired' fic...^_^ but with jamil!!! Completely okay if not!! make sure to have a good day, and again! LOVE UR WRITING SO SO MUCHH!!! <3

A/N: TYSM!!! <<<<333333333333333!! I'm so glad you enjoy my work! I hope I did this one justice (I have to learn how to write Jamil a little better;;;)

TW: Poisoning, injury

Braiding his own hair had always been therapeutic. 

His hair had been the envy of many and was the sole item that gained him the most attention. Jamil was often identified by his long locks that cascaded down his back, tied up in a loose ponytail with delicate braids weaved within. The small bells that clicked softly with his footsteps grounded him when he needed it the most- the often cool metal bringing him back to the present so he could do what he needed. 

When he was young, his hair was identical to Kalim's. It was cut short, the choppy bangs making way for his narrowed steel-grey eyes. Jamil never thought much about it- he'd even enjoyed looking like his friend, even if only for a few months until it would be cut short again. His frustration would be taken out through dancing- when he realized far too young that he would have to be limited and could never be the best at something. 

The day he'd realized that his fate was predetermined, that he would be doomed to live in someone else's shadow for the entirety of his life, he began to despise his hair. He pulled at it in the darkness of his bedroom, gasping through sobs as he writhed on the mattress and his breath hitched with every pained wail as he tugged at his sore scalp, wanting nothing more than to change, to be different. He didn't want to be a copy of someone else, he wanted a chance to be better than what he was. 

Jamil had seen the toll it had taken on his parents- their weary gazes as they sadly told their children to keep their heads low, the way their lips quivered when both Jamil and Najma were forced to enroll in self-defense classes to protect the Al-Asims, their hushed reassurances when both children would come back from the aforementioned classes, bruised and bleeding, shaking as they gazed up at their parents with wide, confused eyes. 

The Viper couple had always had an air about them- an air of hopelessness, of despair, almost. 

Jamil had wanted nothing more than to save them from that, to see his parents smile the way they had in their wedding photos. He would sometimes sit in his hallway and stare at those photos, trying to piece together what had gone wrong and why his parents never looked at one another like that anymore. Was it work? Was the constant pressure of being responsible for the Al-Asim's wellbeing getting to both of them? Jamil had sometimes thought about what it had been like for the both of them- born to servants, falling in love with servants and having children for the sole purpose of being servants. 

Jamil had known that they didn't have him and his sister for the purpose of being a servant. It was just... a coincidence. His existence was merely coincidence. 

A coincidence that had brought tears to his eyes when he first realized it, and one that he hopes his sister will never find out (he knows that she figured it out already, and he tried to ignore the way her muffled cries drifted into his room that night).

He had started growing out his hair in near-defiance. A way to prove his own freedom, to make his own decisions. He could do what he wanted to his hair- he could dye it, cut it, braid it. His hair was his freedom, and he had spent hours trying to find the right oils and shampoos to use, experimenting with different temperatures and seeing how the air around him affected it. He had tried hairstyles so late in the night that his arms ached from the effort well into the next morning. 

His hair by middle school was well past his shoulders and was already the object of his sister's whining and jealousy. His parents asked him why he didn't cut it, and he had fought them on it for weeks. 

Running his hands through his hair was his therapy, styling it was his own form of meditation when his heart felt as though it was going to burst from the pressure and the workload gave him migraines that pounded his skull until he took a well-deserved nap (which he rarely had the time for). 

He used to have a singular form of therapy, he used to dance and dance and dance until his feet burned and sweat poured down his face and soaked his clothes- sweat that hid the tears that would often spring to his eyes and stream down his face during these moments when he realized that he only truly felt free within the confines of his bedroom. He used to dance until the music caused his ears to ring well into the night, spinning and twisting to a rhythm that pounded in time with his heartbeat and his palms hitting the floor with a frustration that could only be matched by the quick tempo. 

The overwhelming throb in his heart sometimes only increased with the movements, the deep ache that could not be quelled by his quick turns and spins as he threw himself to the ground, gasping and panting as he lay on his back, the cold wood of his floor seeping through his sweaty tanktop as his lip quivered and he sobbed quietly, the music now a dull hum in the deafening silence of his room. 

When he had been poisoned, he had lost his ability to dance for weeks. He remembered the day vividly, waking up in the hospital, his head feeling as though it were full of stuffing and the world spinning until he was trying to swallow down the nausea that rose as his stomach clenched so painfully it made tears spring to his eyes as he whimpered for his mother just as he had when he was a child, begging for her to take the pain that was consuming his body away. 

It took him a week to be able to stand again, and another to stand without feeling that same nausea that would render him immobile for hours. He couldn't dance for a year, the spins suddenly becoming too much for his body to handle and the quick movements, once fluid, now being jittery and shaky. He no longer would feel the rush of adrenaline after a good routine, the satisfaction of perfect choreography as he became one with the music. He would stumble, and his head would spin until he had to rest against the floor to catch his breath that seemed to be running faster and faster with every passing second. 

Jamil lay in bed that night and stared, trying to will his shaking hands to still at his sides. He wanted to cry, to scream and to kick and to wail until he didn't have to be terrified day in and day out, until he could be freed from this agony that was a lifetime of servitude and danger. 

He had taken his time to begin caring for his hair more, to consume hours upon hours creating spells and figuring out how to flick his wrist properly to braid and twist his hair. 

He was normally so protective over it, smacking away anyone who would try to run their hands through the fine silk or who would come near him with scissors to trim the ends. His hair was his individuality, and the thought of someone else having control over it hurt his heart and made his stomach twist and burn as he recoiled from the thought alone. 

So Jamil didn't understand why he felt so...safe. Safe with his head in the prefect's lap, face buried in their thighs as his hand rested on their knee, rubbing it comfortingly with his thumb. Their soft humming brought him a comfort that he hadn't known since he was a child and filled him with warmth. The care they treated him with as their hands ran through his hair gingerly, treating each strand as though it were made of solid gold. Their nails were gentle against his scalp, gingerly twisting and braiding the thick black hair that cascaded down their thighs and splayed against the mattress like vines ready to flower against the soft silk of his sheets.

He felt protected with them, as though his worries were all melting away with the sun that sank below the horizon, casting the entire dorm in the shades of a warm fire that sent embers floating into the open sky- free to venture until they burnt out and became one with the stars. For the longest time, Jamil had longed to become one with those stars, to shine as brightly as they had, unbound by fates and surrounded by possibilities. 

For the first time in his life, Jamil had options. He no longer had to battle alone, no longer would be forced to swallow the poison that bound him to a lifetime of servitude. The shackles would remain until he and Kalim would come to an end, but their weight was lifted. The prefect took those iron bars and lifted them in their own hands, no matter how much he pleaded for them to allow him to carry this heavy burden on his own, that the weight he could carry was no issue to him despite the burn in his arms and neck as the years progressed. They lifted the chains, and he suddenly felt as though he could breathe again. 

As if on cue, his shoulders rose and fell in a sharp sigh as he felt tears well in his eyes, his hands pausing on his lover's knee as their ministrations on his hair stopped, making him frown. 

"What's wrong?" They asked quietly, voice barely a whisper above the winds of the desert and the soft chatter of the other Scarabia residents. 

"Nothing," Jamil said. "Everything." He finally admitted, feeling the weight lift off his heart ever so slightly. 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"Not now," He would rather never talk about it, to protect them from the life that he had been forced to live and to keep them safe from the possibility of becoming a servant themselves- perhaps even the possibility of their own children becoming servants, then grandchildren, then great-grandchildren. "Spiraling."

He could feel their smile despite having not turned onto his back to face them as their hands continued to thread through his hair gently. The two have learned, through many small fights and trial-and-error, to speak to one another tersely. Jamil found that it was best that they know a little of what is happening in his mind rather than keeping it in the dark- even if his explanations were one or two words. 

"I'm sorry," They mumble, bending over to press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear. He hoped they didn't feel the shiver that ran up his spine nor the way that his heart trembled from the action. 

"Why are you sorry?" he choked out, breath caught in his throat. 

"I'm sorry you're in pain," he felt as though his heart was going to burst from the adoration he felt for the student, pure love spilling from the holes in the walls around his guarded heart and seeping into his veins. Finally, he rolls onto his back and gently raises his arm, raking his nails softly up their neck and winding around to the back of their head before pulling them into a soft kiss. It was far from their first, and Jamil could only hope that they never share a last, but it still made his stomach turn. 

"Please don't worry," He smiles gently, parting from the kiss and feeling a burst of pride from their dazed expression. Jamil lowers his hand from their scalp to their cheek, cupping it gently and running his thumb beneath their eye, brushing over their cheekbone and reveling in the way they lean into his touch and hold their hand over his own. I'm safe as long as you're here, he wants to say. Jamil wants nothing more than to hold them dear and to soak in all the affection they're willing to dish out to him. 

But he knows there's a time.

He feels that it's soon. Soon he could spill his heart out to them, soon he could cup their face and press their foreheads together and hold them so close to himself that it's nearly desperate and whisper sweet nothings against their lips and plead for them to stay greedily as he peppers their face in kisses and feels the way their chest presses against his with every breath. He wanted to hold them in those cold nights, the warmth of the both of them as they lay cuddled beneath the sheets peacefully as he tells them every single thought he's ever had about them, every single one of his wishes as though they could grant them as easily as any genie. 

He would trade in every last wish if it meant he had the courage to speak his mind at this moment, to watch their expression soften, or the way their eyes would widen when he would say what they wanted to hear. 

But there would be another time for that, he decides as he interlaces their fingers, still pressed against the prefect's warm cheek. 

"I love you."

[pandoa]

hello Pando, how are you doing?? I've recentely discovered your writing and I really like it! I loved the soulmate au you wrote, it was so cute! Also, congrats on your 100 followers, I'm glad more people enjoy your writing as well!

for the Blossom Grove event, could you please write Tulips and Daisies prompt in a sunset theme for Ruggie? With a good dose of fluff!!

Tulips ~ “so what if i’m in love with you?! is that so wrong?”

Daisies ~ “it’s our little secret, alright?”

~ruggie bucchi x gender neutral reader~

hello anon! i'm doing quite well, ty for asking!! i'm so happy to hear that you liked the soulmate au fics i wrote :D your words are so sweet, i hope you enjoy this one as well!! i tried adding in as much fluff as i could think of lol ty for requesting <33

♡pinky promise♡

“You know, I’m kinda surprised you actually had time to come here with me, Ruggie,” your perplexed voice spoke as you and the Savanaclaw second year made your way atop a rolling hill adjacent to the woods of NRC’s campus to watch the sun descend from its place in the horizon. It had been a few hours since classes at the prestigious school had ended. Students were seen waving their final goodbyes of the day while they briskly hustled back to their respected dorms—some more hurried than others—as they attempted to beat the curfews their housewardens had set for them. The creatures and little critters of the woods scurried into their homes as well, awaiting the inevitable arrival of the owls and crickets to emerge from their spots within the forest under the pinkish glow of the sky above. You and Ruggie, however, headed the opposite way of everyone around you like two birds flying against the wind’s incessant direction and approached a grass-filled valley in search of a quiet area where you could relax in each other’s presence with no interruptions. 

Ruggie curiously turned to you, with the vibrant colors of the setting sun creating a colorful halo around the said boy with every movement he made, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you’re always running around NRC, Leona this, Leona that and all,” you stated while swaying your head from side-to-side, seemingly emphasizing your words. “And with Crowley putting his weight onto me as well, we never really have time to ourselves these days.”

The hyena-like beastman guided you to an open spot on the hill and sighed as he sat down and recalled the small, odd errands the both of you did each day. “Yeah… they’ve all been a real pain, haven’t they?” The sounds of an awakening night owl sang throughout the open hill as the boy beside you paused, appearing to be basking under the sky’s tranquil shades of pink, orange, and red across the world’s atmosphere. He filled his mind with thoughts of the many responsibilities you both had, slightly envying the people who had a little less on their plate. “But we should at least have a right to spend some mindless time together, right?” Ruggie began to speak once again, capturing your attention, “Leona’s fine taking his little princess nap. You’re nicer to be around, anyway."

“Aw, you love me, Ruggie?” you jokingly asked as you poked the side of his stomach, earning yourself a look of surprise from the young man.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I said but—”

“That’s so adorable of you, hehe~”

The beastman, growing annoyed at your coddling, tried to reason with your playful self. “Now, wait a second, (Y/n)—”

“Ruggie’s so cute~”

“Yeah, and so what if I’m in love with you?” Ruggie retorted as he smoothly took a hold of your startled figure and peered directly into your glowing eyes, determination and vexation striking his tone. “Is that so wrong? And stop tryna tease me, will you? If any other Savanaclaw student sees, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Stunned for a moment, you looked at the second year in amazement at the swiftness of his confession. Your cheeks grew a pastel tint as a fluttering warmth flooded your senses. With an erratic pounding in your chest, your heart quickened its pace in excitement at the way Ruggie had impulsively admitted his feelings towards you. His directness surprised you. A flustered feeling then began to bubble within your body.

“Wait…” a wary voice uttered from your form. “Did you just say that you love me? Like love love?” you giddily asked.

“Y..es? I think that’s what I said,” Ruggie had replied, almost embarrassed by your conversation, “but still don’t tell anyone just yet. They’ll make a big deal outta it, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for a stampede of their comments yet.” 

“Pfft— Fine.” Scoffing at his words, you attempted to brush away the forming butterflies in your stomach as you created a pact by holding out a childish pinky for Ruggie to lock onto. “It’s our little secret, alright?” 

The young man reached out with his own pinky, grinning and confirming the secret shared between the two of you, “Right. Our secret.”

a/n: can you guys tell that i kinda like teasing the twst boys?