#*f. pines // starter call.

[ncrthernl1ghts]

have another grunkle starter call. once again comes in young and old flavors.

[prettyboykatsuki]

ANOTHER WORD FOR HOMESICK (I WANT TO SAY YOUR NAME AGAIN) | M. BACHIRA

☼ tags ; omegaverse, afab + fem!omega!!reader, alpha!bachira, childhood friends to lovers, established reader backstory, coming-of-age, romance, mutual pining, implicit sexual content (virginity loss to an oc), explicit sexual content ft. bonding, knotting, penetration, oral (f!recieving), fingering, praise, lovey dovey dirty talk, petnames (mostly baby) 18+

++ notes: readers appearance is mostly non-descript but they are shorter than bachira and have several piercings and a tattoo which are explained in story.

☼ content warnings ; lore applicable sexism, sexual harassment of reader as a minor (details in authors note, explained further in extended authors note), lore applicable homophobia, implied bisexuality + referenced mutual queerness queerness, underage drinking, heat / estrus as a symptom of puberty

please thoroughly read content warnings and tags before clicking read more.

☼ ao3 link | extended authors note | fics for gaza

THIS IS PART TWO. CLICK HERE TO HERE PART ONE.

☼ wc ; 16.8k / 33.2k

☼ a/n ; sorry for the incredibly long wait. as always i got extremely carried away. but cheers for fujoneet reader coming after this! written as part of the @ficsforgaza intiative

☼ synopsis ; you spend the next four years of your life pining miserably and trying to get over your first love. it all comes crashing during the year you turned twenty-one, fresh out of a break-up and forced to reconcile with your estranged childhood friend.

PART TWO: LIGHT MY WAY BACK HOME.

Freshman orientation seems less like an orientation and more like a social gathering.  

You’re not really sure why you didn’t think of that. This one is being held by seniors in your department, so you figured they’d talk to you about things like majors or clubs or general campus life.  

The presence of alcohol and cigarettes after only thirty minutes is what alerts you of your doom. You’re screwed.  

For many reasons and in many ways.  

For starters, you’re all the way out in Hokkaido, which is a 19 hour trip from your hometown. You don’t know anyone at school except that one alpha you keep bumping into, and more importantly - you wouldn’t know of any good ways to excuse yourself to leave. You don’t even know where to go if you did.   

Secondly, you’re really not interested in drinking again. At least, not for now. The memory of Bachira is strangely fresh despite it being over a year since, and you’re afraid a drop of alcohol is going to make you spiral out and humiliate yourself in front of your peers.  

Third, most of the people here seem at least somewhat acquainted with each other. From the introductions at the start, there’s only one other freshman here and he’s already friends with a bunch of people. On top of that, he’s the rowdy alpha type you have a hard time with so you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do other thank stick to the wall and hope for the best.  

You text Miki-chan as you sit in the corner. Were you always this poor at socializing?  

After a few minutes, someone comes and plops themselves next to you. You’re mildly startled by her presence, jumping in your skin. She smells sweet,  a mix of overripe mango and something floral. You startle as she crowds in your space, eyes widening.  

“You’re the new freshie, right?”  

You blink at her then nod. She’s extremely pretty and not entirely Japanese which is common for this campus. “Uh, yes. Nice to meet you…”  

“Hira,” She says easily  

“Nice to meet you, Hira-senpai.” You bow.  

“Oh, how formal! Sure, call me that if you want.” She moves in even closer. You feel your heartbeat skyrocket and feel thankful you’re wearing a scent patch. “You looked a little lonesome in the corner, so I thought I’d come save you. First party like this?”  

You’re surprised. “Is it obvious?”  

“Mm, not really. But I can tell at least. I’m good at reading people. And I was interested in you,” 

You stare at her as she leans against the wall. Long lashes, dyed hair, full lips and a scent so intoxicating you could drown. You feel flush just looking at her, attracted to her undeniably. The look she’s giving you is making you a little delirious.  

Your eyes go wide. “Sorry?”  

She beams but doesn’t repeat herself. “Are you a beta?”  

“An omega,”  

You feel her nose brush against your covered scent glands and feel a jolt up your spine. “Oh, you are. You smell good.” 

You blink slowly, hesitating. “Thanks.” 

“Which way do you swing, then?”  

Is she… hitting on you? Then again, she could just be the touchy type like Bachira.  

“I prefer omegas. I’ve never dated an alpha seriously.” But I was in love with at least one.  

Her eyes light up. “So you swing both ways, or at least you like omegas. Good. My radars rarely wrong. Ever been in a relationship with anyone?”  

“Just for a few months in highschool.” You admit.  

“Right. Got any experience then?”  

She’s…  

“Uh, not really no. Kissed and stuff but that’s about it.”  

“Eighteen, no experience, and into other omegas…that tracks. You’re not having much fun at this party, either. So, how about…” You feel her hand on your thigh and nearly choke on air. “We change all of that in one go?”  

You feel a little guilty. You’re not sure what you should be doing. You never really thought about losing your virginity when you were in school for obvious reasons, and thought of it even less so when you were with Bachira. It’s not like it’s of incredible importance to you. Is it something you should let go of easily? Does it matter?  

On the other hand, are you ever going to have a beautiful omega girl older than you offer to take your virginity and it not be an illusion? You’re not really sure if it’s possible. And you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a eunuch. Some part of you hopes it’ll get your mind off of Bachira.  

“I really don’t know what I’m doing, just as uh. As a prerequisite.” You say stiffly.  

“Are you a quick learner?”  

Your breath hitches. “Yeah,”  

“Then you’ll be just fine! Sooo… wanna get out of here?”  

Shit. “Uh, y-yeah.”  

“Great!”  

She grabs your hand, hauling you up and dragging you along with her. Some of the seniors in your department shoot you a look like they’re impressed and you’re not sure if you should be mortified or flattered. “Taking the freshie with me.”She turns to someone who’s name you don’t remember. “Don’t wait up! And don’t come home either.”  

Said friend sighs. On the way out, you hear them ask around about sleeping over and feel a little guilty.  

__  

She tells you about herself on the way to her place. A short walk from campus, you spend most of it wondering if you’re in some kind of dream. Hira-senpai is mixed but she’s grown up in Sapporo for most of her life.  

Half-north indian and half-japanese. Tan skin, brown eyes, and long hair - something about her looks straight out of a dream. She holds your hand on the way to her apartment and talks to you so casually it makes you feel like friends. She’s good at conversation in a way that’s familiar to you, reminds you a lot of Bachira no matter how much you hate making the comparison.  

Most of all, she’s an incredibly attractive distraction. She’s just a touch taller than you but she’s got long legs and nice assets, with curves in all the right places. She’s toned too. She dresses nice and smells so good. Has all the flair of an omega that makes your heart race.  

Once you get up to her apartment, she wastes no time in getting you into her bedroom.  

Kissing someone with the intention of having sex is different than whatever you were doing in highschool. Hira is well practiced in how she touches you, strips you naked, admires you. 

She’s aggressive with you but you don’t mind. You end up in her bed faster than you thought you’d be. She kisses with with tongue, teeth nipping at your lips and neck as she whispers to you all sorts of things about likes and dislikes. You learn how to use your mouth and how hard to suck, and smooth your tongue along her scent glands in the ways to turn her on.  

You find you don’t mind touching her. You like making her feel good. She gets wet for you and talks to you sweet. Intoxicating, you let her play with you as she pleases without words of complaint. You make her cum once, then again because you like how she grips onto your hair. Her praise is nice when you make her cum. It feels good when she returns the favor even though you feel embarrassed the entire time.  

You fuck until sunrise and sleep in her bed. When morning comes, you find her wrapped around your with your body covered in unfamiliar nips of teeth. She tells you to stay for breakfast.  

You feel like you walked the stairwell to adulthood a little too quickly. But it’s the longest you spent not thinking about the past 

So you stay with her. You sit up and open your phone.  

(sent 9:34am) just lost my virginty to my omega senpai. uni is weird  

9:35am: You have 24 new notifications.  

__ 

[ NINETEEN ] 

“Do you wanna become club manager?”  

You shoot a surprised glance at Satou-kun, one of your only alpha friends on campus and captain of your university soccer team. You’re currently in the club room, reviewing footage of their opposing team before they start training for the inter-collegiate tournaments.  

This is a favor you’re doing for Satou-kun as a part of him helping you find board and housing all the way out here. Your current university had been your last choice despite being incredibly prestigious as a result of extra-curricular and exceptionally good marks for years of highschool.  

 You were supposed to be staying in a dorm room but there was some trouble in the office and no space left in the omega-beta dorms for you to stay at.  

You met Satou-kun crying outside of the 7/11 near your campus, dropped down to your knees in pre-heat distress. Satou is from the countryside. A big, lumbering 6’4 alpha who apparently can’t leave people alone in times of need, especially not crying omegas. He bought you a meal and helped you find room and board temporarily before later finding you an apartment near campus.  

In short, you owe him a lot. Insistent on paying him back, you’ve spent a lot of time helping out their soccer team doing this and that. Once, off-handedly during their practice, you’d helped one of their other team mates out with their dribbling and have since then become a psuedo-member.  

You don’t really have any interest in soccer. Or at least, you didn’t for the first eighteen years of your life. Maybe it’s because you’re so far from home, but there’s something about seeing them play that feels familiar and fulfills an old itch.  

Still, you’re not really expecting the offer. You’ve only known Satou-kun for a few months and you’ve known his team for even less.  

“Uh. I’ve never been a sports team manager, so I don’t know if I’d be any good.”  

“Seriously?” He sits next to you in a chair backwards, pushing his hair back with his hand. “You know a lot about soccer though?”  

You swallow. “A friend—sorry, an old friend of mine plays. My nii-san did too but that was way back. I’ve just been around it a lot.” 

He gives you a long look, brushing past the very obvious shake in your voice. You like that part of him, you think. “I think it’s fine. The team likes you. You’re meticulous and do well under pressure.” He takes a drink from his water bottle. “Plus I think the guys would be more motivated with a pretty omega manager. At least they’d wanna impress you.”  

You blink. He says it so neutrally you almost don’t catch it.  

“Thanks?”  

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just an observation,” Satou says, shaking his head. “I think you’d be an asset to the team. There’s no one else who can mediate with coach like you can.”  

Your lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “That’s true,”  

Your thoughts end up at Bachira as you consider the offer. Lips furled into a frown, something heavy weighs on your heart. You’ve gotten better at not letting him consume your every waking thought. Being busy has helped. But soccer is the one thing that reminds you of Bachira most. You’re not really opposed to being manager. You just don’t know if it’ll be too much. You’re not enough of a masochistic to say yes without hesitation. The painful, constant reminder of him through being manager just feels overwhelming.  

You haven’t seen him in nearly two years, except on T.V. or in the news, doing exactly what you thought he would. You’ve put so much effort into getting over him but it feels like you’ve hardly made progress.  

You sigh.  

“Can I give you my answer later? After I consider it more?”  

“Sure. If it isn’t too invasive though,” He leans into looking closer. “Can I ask what’s making you hesitate? I’d guess it’s that childhood friend but,”  

You blink in surprise. “Yeah. That obvious?”  

He shakes his head. “Got a nose like a hound, granny always said. Could feel the change even with the strong patches and inhibitors.”  

“Ah,” You look down at your lap. “My friend and I had a pretty bad falling out. Think it was two years ago now, but I’m just worried it’ll bring up bad memories.”  

“You cared about him a lot, huh?”  

You aren’t sure what brings you to say it out loud. “I was in love with him. Basically my whole life.”  

It’s the first time you’ve ever said it to anyone. It doesn’t feel as horrible as you expected.  

“Was he an omega?”  

You give him a humorless smile, shaking your head. “An alpha.”  

He blinks in realization before nodding.  

“Must’ve been someone special then,” Satou scratches the back of his neck. “I can’t tell you I understand it but you know. Maybe being our manager can help give you some better memories than what you left with. With time.”  

“I know it probably sounds ridiculous. Two years is a long time.” You reply back. 

“Huh? Hardly.” Satou looks at you directly when he speaks. “Don’t force yourself to get over it. I know you’re the worrying type, but sometimes it’s fine to just let things go as they are.You have to keep living your life right?”  

“Right,”  

“So don’t think of it in negative terms like getting over it. Do it if it’s something you might want to do. If it gets too much I’ll support you as captain or let you leave. You can make new memories here. It’s an opportunity, that’s all”  

You give Satou-kun a small smile. “Satou-kun…you’re a good guy. You’ll find a good wife.”  

“You sound like granny,” He says. “If you’re ever interested in becoming farmers wife in the country side, you’re always welcome to take the position up.”  

“Are you joking?”  

“No.” He says, standing up. His tone is unreadable. “You’d be good at it. You’re strong with good attention to detail so I think the work would be easy for you. Plus you’re after a quiet life, aren’t you?”  

“This is a bad proposal,” You deadpan, shaking your head. “And most omegas would be pissed if you told them they look good to work on a farm.”  

“It’s a compliment.”  

“This is why you’re not popular.” You retort with a small chuckle. “If I ever decide to marry an alpha and give up on everything, I’ll find you. For now, I’ll have to decline the proposal. But I’ll accept becoming manager.”  

Satou-kun claps your shoulder. “Eh. I’ll take it,” Your eyes meet. “If you change your mind on either thing, just let me know.”  

“Of course. Thanks, captain.”  

“Anytime.”  

__ 

“Are you sure you want this?”  

Hira-senpais roomate, Shinohara, busies himself with sterilizing needles. You glance at yourself in the mirror in their bathroom, red-rimmed eyes making you feel pathetic. You really want something to do.  

Drink, smoke, something. But you’re not trying to start on using substances when thinking of Bachira since you’re sure it’ll kill you. You just need the distraction. The game is still playing in the background in the other room, so when you hear the channel change and feel thankful to whoever shifted it.  

You rub your eyes with the end of your hand, voice hoarse. “Yeah. And I’m gonna get a tattoo.”  

“You’re still this hung up on that kid? Whatever his name was,” He snaps his fingers. “Bee boy.”  

You huff. “Yeah.”  

“Have you tried dating other people?” He suggests.  

Shinohara pours rubbing alcohol onto something before wiping your ear with it on both sides. It’s cold and makes you shiver. “No. Never been interested,”  

“Don’t you think it’s about time you get interested?” He uses a marker next, placing a dot carefully before assessing it. He repeats the process on the other side. “I mean, if just seeing him on T.V. is enough to do this to you after all this time… You barely react to anything, like a damn stone statue. Yet, here you are.”  

“It’s not just that,” You sniffle again. Shinohara-kun gives you a disbelieving look in the mirror, shaking his head. It’s not just the fact you saw Bachira, but that you keep seeing him exceed your expectations. In news magazines, in articles, in ads for sports drinks. What broke you was seeing him on the news after seeing him earlier in a magazine for the greatest talents to come out of Bluelock, with speculation in his potential to become the greatest striker alive.  

You’ve done a good job not thinking about him. You even got used to the press when you went to your hometown and saw him plastered on posters. But it dawns on you he’s still living his dreams and he’s not even twenty yet.  

And you play no part in them. You bite your lip trying not to cry.  

“I’m not piercing you if you keep shaking,” Shinohara says with no real bite. A gloved hand wipes your tear. “So toughen up, brat.”  

“Stop calling me that. You’re only a few years older than me,”  

“Stop acting like one and I’ll consider. Now take a deep breath. It’s gonna hurt pretty bad, alright? If you jolt I’m gonna kill you.”  

“Stop worrying about me.” You sniff, wiping your nose. “I’m fine”  

He rolls his eyes. “Then count to three and take a deep breath.”  

__  

[ TWENTY ] 

“I’m home!”  

Your face is cold from the winter air as you step inside. You shake off the snow from your body as you wipe your face, exhaustion settling in from the long travel. It’s not your first winter break home but even after two years you can’t get used to the distance  

You leave your bag and luggage at the door as you strip out of your jacket, hanging it on a nearby hook. You sigh in relief, mind drifting off to thoughts of sitting in the kotatsu and warming up while you let your brain rot from television. You only have so many days break before you have to travel back to Sapporo. You glance at the shoe rack and notice a single pair of loafers. Your parents are probably grocery shopping. You always have hotpot the day before New Years.  

There’s only one other person that leaves. You raise your voice louder as you call out again.  

“Nii-san, I’m home.”  

“In the living room,”  

You stretch your arms over your head, sweater sliding over your stomach as you walk into the living room to see him spread over the couch watching something on the T.V. Looks like some kind of comedy variety show.  

“Hey,”  

You make a noncommittal noise, beelining to the kotatsu in the center of the room, sliding yourself underneath with a long sigh. Nii-san laughs behind you.  

“Still snowing?” 

“Got worse in the last hour,” You prop your elbows on the table, laying on your arms with a loud yawn. “My bags wet so I left it in front of the door.”  

He hums as the two of you continue to watch T.V. in comfortable silence. You feel his gaze on your back for a while before turning around slightly to look at him. “What are you looking at?”  

“Did you get your ears pierced?”  

You blink. “Yeah. My helix and upper lobe on both sides.”  

He stares at you for a long while after you tell him, leaving you confused. It’s rare you see your brother these days. He’s twenty-nine this year. He’s scruffy, face prickly with hair and hair grown out longer than normal. Eyes squinted, you feel his hand pull at the collar of your sweater before peering down at your back.  

“When did you get a tattoo?” 

Surprised, you pull away from his grasp frowning. “Same time I got my piercings.”  

“What for?” 

“I just wanted to get them,” You say, fidgeting with your. 

“Well, it’s fine.” He says after a while, voice softened. His hand comes up to your head, patting it like you’re a kid again. You squirm away from the touch and sudden affection. You don’t know if you’ll ever properly figure out what’s on his mind. “You’re such a goody two-shoes kid a little rebellion won’t hurt. Kaa-san’s gonna freak over the tattoo though.”  

“I won’t be here long enough for her to find out I don’t think. And even if she does, it’s not like I can get it removed now. It’s usually covered up enough that no one noticed.”  

“I saw it cause of the way you were sitting, so don’t worry about it.” He says, patting your shoulder. “What’s the tattoo of?” 

You frown, turning away with a flush. “…A bumble bee on a kuroyuri flower.”  

“A bee huh? Should kill that stupid brat.”  

“Nii-san!” You shake your head. “I already told you the fight was my fault. Don’t use it as a reason for your grudge, okay?”  

He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re twenty right?”  

You nod. Nii-san grabs a beer from the plastic bag besides him, cracking the top open before handing it to you with a long look. “Here,”  

You take the beer from his hand and take a drink from the top, malt hitting your lips and warming you up from the inside. “…Thanks.”  

“If you’re gonna go out of your way to defend him even now, just text him and make up already,”He says, shaking his head. “The piercings, the tattoo… all that was to get over him, huh?”  

You feel embarrassed. Was it that obvious you were hung up on Bachira this way? He always had a weird sixth sense about things, so maybe not. “It doesn’t matter.”  

He sighs. “It does matter. If you care this much, there’s no way it doesn’t. Don’t be obstinate and figure things out with him.”  

“Even if I could do that,” Which I can’t, ever. “He’s rarely home anyways, and I don’t want to have that conversation on the phone. Plus, he’s probably forgotten all about it.”  

“You’re a smart kid but sometimes you’re so oblivious it makes me feel bad. Was it because you’re sheltered? You have no common sense.”  

“Hey!”  

“I know you’re just being careful but there’s no need to this extent. You two were attached at the hip for almost two decades. There’s no way he’d forget even if he’s a famous soccer player right now. Just make up with him.” He says, then sighs before giving you a serious look. “But seriously don’t marry him. I’ll kill you both.”  

“I told you he likes alphas.”   

“And you like him, despite liking omegas, right?”  

You make a noise of indignance “That’s different,”  

“It’s not. I don’t care about him but don’t be a coward. You’re a lot tougher than that as is and it doesn’t suit you at all.”  

You turn your eyes to the T.V. pretending to watch it while deep in thought.  

You don’t know. It’s been three years since you and Bachira stopped being friends but the wound doesn’t feel any more healed than it did last time. There are longer stretches of time in between that you can without feeling like the world is collapsing underneath you, but you’re not over it despite your best efforts. Maybe it’s true you haven’t truly tried hard enogh. Your last conversation was messy at best, a rushed outro to a life long friendship without any real closure.  

But you don’t think you’re owed closure. What’s more, you don’t even know what you’d say. There’s both so much and so little you want to tell him.  

I’m proud of you. I’m sorry. Who takes care of you now that I’m gone? Do you miss me as much as I miss you? 

But how do you have that conversation? You’ve never been good at being upfront with your feelings. You keep to yourself, keep your head down, and get lucky to be around people who do it for you.  

Even if you were to get closure now, could you handle it? You were never under the impression Bachira could love you, but at least now you can be open about it. At least now, you can tell people when they ask you about love and confess it like some sort of sin. The first time you told Satou-kun that truth, it felt like a weight had finally been unburdened. To become friends again now would mean you bear that silence of that again while you try to fall out of love, or you confess to it him and make things hard on you both.  

You don’t want either outcome. You just want Bachira to be your friend. And you want things to be easy. You’re not seventeen anymore.  You have school, work, clubs - things that you still need to be present for.  

You can’t handle the heartbreak of that loss twice. It’d kill you.  

Maybe, someday, when you’re really over it - you’ll reach out to Bachira as friends. Another two years so it’s been at least five, and you’re closer to graduation than you are to highschool.  

For now though, the idea of seeing Bachira again is painful at best and stupid at worst.  

“I need more time,” You reply after a while. “To get over it more. I don’t want to meet him when I’m still this… emotional about it.”  

Nii-san sighs, over you. “Fine. If you say so. Drink your little heart out over it but when the time comes, dont’ miss your chance alright? Promise me.”  

“I thought you didn’t like him.” 

“You little—just promise.”  

“Fine, fine,” You fall forward again on your kotatsu - waving a dismissive hand. “Promise.”  

__  

“I can’t believe my favorite heat partner went and got a boyfriend on me,” 

Hira-senpai slides herself across from you in the booth in front of you. You glance up from your laptop just barely too greet her as Shinohara joins the both of you. Shaking your head, you take stock of your surroundings quickly. The cafeteria at the bottom floor of the  mathematics building is still just as empty as it was when you came in.  

“Where did you two just back from?”  

“A seminar thing for senior capstone.” Shinohara answers. You make a short ahhh sound before continuing on with your typing.  

“Don’t just ignore me, both of you!” Hira insists. Your lips quirk up at the corners.  

“Stop announcing that we have sex so loudly and I’ll consider it.”  

“Fine, fine. I just can’t believe you got confessed too and you said yes! And you only told me through text!!”  

“What was I supposed to do? You weren’t even on campus so I couldn’t tell you in person.”  

She pouts, dipping a fry into ketchup as she props her elbows up on the table.  

“Whatever. I want details!”  

“It was that huge omega guy on the soccer team, right? What was his name again…?”  

You furrow your brow. “How do you know that?”  

“I know everything.” He says seriously. You roll your eyes.  

“Yeah it was. Takahashi-kun. He confessed to me as soon as I got back from visiting home over winter break in the club room. Gave me flowers and everything.”  

“Flowers? What a serious guy. Are all the soccer club guys like that?”  

You grimace. “I think all soccer players are predispositioned to have something just a little wrong with them. Him being chivalrous is fine, all things considered.” 

“Hm. True.”  

“Sooo, did you just say yes right away? That’s super unlike you!” 

“Huh? No, of course not. I told him upfront that I’m still getting over someone so I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” You say, typing away at your computer. “But he said he didn’t care and wanted to date me anyways.”  

“What a weird guy.” Shinohara hums thoughtfully.  

“He’s that into you?!”  

You nod. “I guess so. I asked why it had to be me and he said something I didn’t catch. Just that he thought I’d be a good partner and accept an omega like him. Which I guess is true.”  

Shinohara chuckles. “You sound so enthused.”  

You shrug. “It’s not like I lied. He’s a good guy, I know that. And I mean. Not like I have anything to lose. You guys are the ones telling me to try and move on.”  

They both say “True,” at the same time, making you shake your head.  

“So you’re gonna date him seriously?”  

“I’m gonna try,” You reply with a long sigh. “I really just want to move on.”  

__ 

You date Takahashi-kun for a year.  

It’s a good year, and a good relationship.  

He’s good to you in all ways that matter. He still believes in old timey traditional of courting and courts you like an omega might an alpha despite you not being one. Brings you food he’s made and other handmade ornaments. He’s taller than most omega men. A little over six feet and muscular with a sharp jaw but the roundest, brownest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Often, he asks you if you’re fine with him. Comes into your arms and weeps into your neck, scent sweet like fresh cream as he apologizes for not being cute. Takahashi is more omega than you are. Shows submission and pleasure in the textbook ways you see only in books and pornography. He’s kind and doe-eyed and timid. He’s easy to talk to. He’s attractive. Sharing heat together always feels pleasurable and warm. 

Alphas like him. Mostly alpha women. And you like Takahashi too, while you date him. He’s tender and thoughtful - easy to read and easy to treat well. The relationship is never something worthy of complaint.  

Which is why you break up with him before you leave for winter break the next year.  You explain it  all to him and feel incredibly disheartened when he cries. Takahashi is the poster image for what makes a good omega. And because he is so good, so kind, so caring - it’s unfair to continue to be with him when you know you can’t grow to love him the way he loves you. 

If a year in your ideal theoretical relationship can’t be enough to cauterize the wound of your heartbreak, there’s probably nothing else that will except time. Even hysterical, you relay all of this to Takahashi as best you can. You don’t regret being with him, because he’s taught you plenty of things. 

It’s because he’s taught you so much that you’re able to break up with him at all instead of remaining comfortable and impassive. Because you know the depth of another persons unconditional love and because you also grow to love Takahashi. You love him in a different way than he loves you, and you leave because it’s unfair. It’s the first year of your life that has felt long and meaningful since you and Bachira parted ways four years prior.  

So you split with him, and tell him everything on your mind. And because Takahashi is a good person who loves you unconditionally - it hurts you both, even though he accepts. He asks that if someday, you think you might change your mind to call him. He asks to be friends.  

You promise to him both, and then tell him again that you hope someone better will be there for him and that you love him even if it’s not like that.  

The day you break up with Takahashi, you have to take a train ride three hours long to get to the airport where you’ll board a short flight, then make the hours long venture back to your hometown.  

You’re fine for the duration. You don’t cry often anyway. It’s fine until your phone buzzes with the notification that F.C. Barcha has won a tournament match and will proceed to the next World Cup Qualifiers.  

And then, like clockwork, you sob into your hands on an empty train - heart so full of longing you could nearly throw up.  

You think, breaking up with Takahashi-kun was the right choice.  

You think, I miss him.  

You heart doesn’t name who exactly you miss. That name is written all over it anyways.   

__  

[ TWENTY-ONE ] 

For the first few days of your winter break, none of your family is in your house for you to hang around.  

This is something you’ve always been used to. Your parents have been on a trip in Kyoto and won’t be back until after new years and nii-san is working a lot of overtime until about the same. You have a copy of your house keys so you have a place to stay, and you’ve made some shrine plans with Miki and Sasaki since you’re back home.  

They’re both still busy until the thirtieth though, so until then you have nothing to do.  

Today is the twenty-sixth, the day after Christmas. You’re home early since all of your classes finals lined up in the short-span of three days. It was stressful but you’re thankful for the extended few days that allowed you to go home early.  

Yu-san has insisted you spend some time with her instead of being by yourself. You always spend a day or two at her house during your winter breaks and have since you left for college. After your eighteenth birthday, it just felt like the right thing to do.  

You bring her something every year when you visit, and sometimes you stay over night. She treats you like her own, and fills you in about Bachira from time to time.  

In honor of upholding tradition, you decide to go see her a little early this year. Before you enter the familiar and cramped space of Yu-sans apartment - you always buy her a nice bouquet of flowers, a box of sweets, and an expensive bottle of sake. You have a gift for her too, some souvenirs from Hokkaido like always.  

You stop by your house first to drop off your things and lock up before walking the short distance to your childhood friends home in the winter air.  

You’ve been too often to knock after all, instead opting to text Yu-san and let her know that you’re there. You wait outside until she responds, giving you the go-ahead. 

yu oba-san (sent 9:57pm): the door is open but i had to step out for  a bit. make yourself comfortable.  

You gather your things up in one hand and tucking the flowers carefully in your arms to open the door. Your bag of gifts and drinks lands on the floor with a soft clunk as you set it down besides you, balancing flowers on the small cabinet near the entryway. Sliding your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it, you force your feet out of your winter boots, eyes searching around for the right pair of slippers.  

When you go to put your boots up on the shoe rack, you notice that there’s an unfamiliar pair of sneakers. You notice it too late. Mens sneakers. 

 A faint scent of burnt honey.  

You shake your head trying to shake the thoughts away. The likelihood of it being Bachira is so slim you wonder why you’re considering. The match for F.C. Barcha took place in Spain. It takes a day of travel to get to Japan, so you guess it’s possible. Even so, you think it’d be more likely he comes during New Years. It’s not guaranteed he’ll have enough time to even come home every year. He did two years back from what you know but not since then.  

You gather your things again. First the small bag you keep your personal stuff in, then the bags you’ve brought for Yu-san, and finally the flowers in your arm.  

You decide against announcing yourself since you suspect you’re the only there. 

Except you’re not.  

The whole world feels like it’s collapsing underneath your feet to see Bachira in flesh, tucked into the couch of his childhood home the same way he used to when you were kids - with both legs folded up and his chin resting on his knee.  

A shock of yellow hair, eyes gemstone gold and a stronger scent. Bachira. Meguru. 

You startle and think of what to do. What excuse you can make. How you can tiptoe your way out of the room and catch the breath that he steals away from your lungs.  

No such luck. Bachira is perceptive as always, noticing you before you get a chance to slip away.  

“Oh,” He murmurs. He’s taller. Just a bit, you think. “It’s you,”  

Your heart is thudding, blood rushing to your ears and face as you stare at him. You can barely feel your legs, weakness in your knees nearly making you buckle. Frozen stiff in place, you blink once, twice before nodding. You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat.   

“Uhm,” You don’t know what to do. “Yeah. I came to visit Yu-san.”  

He nods back.  

“She told me I should come over as soon as I can.” Bachira says. He feels unfamiliar. His hair is longer, but styled up and his ear lobes are pierced. He looks so much older yet so much the same. “My team mate dropped me off with his jet so I made it in a day.”  

Ah. Was it planned? She’s like your nii-san in how much she wants you two to reconcile. “Makes sense.” You flounder. Awkward silence falls so you try to come up with anything to say. Your hands are sweaty. “ Uh..Congratulations on your win, by the way.”  

He looks surprised. “Do you keep up with soccer these days?”  

Just for you. “A bit. Out of habit, I guess. And I’m the soccer teams manager at uni.”  

Surprised, he blinks in silence for a while.  

 “Oh. Well,” Suddenly, he beams. It’s no doubt forced and it breaks you into a thousand pieces though you try not to let it show on your face. Try not to let the omega part of you whimpering for approval too obvious. He smiles at you “Don’t be a stranger on my behalf! You should put your stuff down and sit. We should uhm..catch up!”  

You make a face at him that you know is pained, but nod anyways. The tension in the air is so thick as you slide to the other side of the room, putting the flowers and other gifts on the kitchen counter.   

Four years. Four years. How are you supposed to act?  

“Uh,” You call from the kitchen, hoping the nerves in your voice aren’t obvious. “Do you uhm, maybe want something to drink? I brought alcohol and I think there’s beers in your fridge.”’ 

Your eyes meet from the living room to where you stand behind the counter. He shrugs, giving you a lighthearted smile.  

“Mm. My nutritionist might get pissed but whatever! Why not you know? A beer would be good, thanks!” 

You nod and try to do the same - keeping the conversation as light as you can. You repeat that it’s fine like a mantra.  

“Is beer not too bitter for you? I bought chuhai cans. There’s a pineapple flavor,”  

The question is innocent enough to you, but you realize seconds later the intimacy of it. Four years or not, you were Bachira’s friend your entire life so it’d be weirder not to know and even weirder not to at least ask. It’s an extension of courtesy no matter how unnecessary, and plus - you’re known for being a little too obsessed with the details.  Bachira prefers sweet things and likes canned pineapple. You’re sure you picked it up out of habit.  

When you look up at Bachira, he looks nearly ready to cry. It startles you so much you jolt out of your skin. He turns away. “Haha���You remembered,”  

A pang of concern makes leaves you standing in place. There’s no way you would’ve forgotten. “Oh uhm. Sorry. Is that weird for you?” You explain, trying not to overstep any boundaries. “If me being too familiar is making you uncomfortable then—“  

“It’s not that,” He insists seriously. “I was trying to keep it together but I can’t after that,” He lets out a loud sob suddenly. Your eyes widen. Several waves of emotion pass over you at the same time. “I missed you…hicc, why would you remember that…sniff,”  

You soften, shoulder slumped with endured longing.  

“I missed you too,” 

“Liar,” He hiccups again, crying in full hysterics this time. You shuffle back to the living room to join him on the opposite side of the couch, placing the bag of drinks on the coffee table and reaching a hand over to squeeze his knee. “You haven’t talked to me in four years. You didn’t miss me at all but you remember something so dumb. You’re always like that. You’re so….”  

You frown. Does he really think you didn’t miss him?  

“It wasn’t like that,”  

“Then explain it to me now! Hasn’t it been long enough…dont you…!” He exclaims, pulling his hands from his face. You can’t contain your surprise about the reaction though you understand it completely. You feel similar. You’ve convinced yourself the entire time that any relationship you had with each other was completely one-sided. Assuming he would move on fine without you now that there were people in his life he could call friends. Still, it’s so unusual to see evidence of it not being true. “You never explained anything to me you just..” He sniffs “Left me. I thought you didn’t care anymore but…”  

His display of genuine sadness makes you feel horrible.  

You press your lips together in a thin line, reaching into the bag for a tall can of beer and cracking it open before having a drink so it numbs your nerves.  

Your stomach is twisted up in a knot so tight you kind of feel sick. There’s no way around the conversation now. You can’t bear to see him cry so much, so you should at least clear up the understanding. 

 Leaned forward, elbows on knees - you keep your eyes focused in front of you, keenly aware of Bachira adjacent to you on the couch wiping his eyes.  

“It wasn’t that I didn’t miss you, I just uh,” You swallow a lump in your throat until it smooths out. “I just have stuff I want to get over before we could be proper friends again. I wanted to reach out to you a lot. It wasn’t like I stopped caring about you after we fought,”  

“You hated me for lying to you and being an alpha right? Wasn’t that what you had to get over in the first place?”  

Your eyes go wide. “No, uh. It’s complicated. I didn’t uhm, hate you for lying about it. I was shocked sure but you are—were my best friend. I did distrust alphas for a long time and I still don’t really like them… but it didn’t matter to me. I told you then too but I didn’t hate you it was just,”  

You chuckle nervously, running your thumb on the rim of the can. “It felt wrong to keep being your friend. Not knowing something so basic. The fact you felt like you couldn’t tell me. It was more like I was too ashamed to keep calling you my best friend.  

“You… Really?”  

You nod. “And uh, I didn’t want to reach out to you again until i got over some personal stuff.”  

“You big dummy,” He wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve. “It wasn’t like that at all…. Even back then, I knew you wouldn’t have hated me just for being an alpha,” He hiccups another sob. “I was just so scared you would that I didn’t want to tell you. I thought you would start treating me different and we’d stop being close if you found out I wasn’t an omega. You’re such a good person, how come you think of yourself like that? Why do you think…hicc”  

“Sorry,” You mumble, unsure of what to say.  

It feels like a great weight has been lifted up off your chest.  

“Stop apologizing, dummy. Stupid.”  

You give him a wobbly smile.  

“What did you have to get over that you couldn’t talk to me for four years?” He huffs. “If it wasn’t me being an alpha, what was it?”  

Your eyes widen, heart rate picking up so rapidly you can only pray he doesn’t hear it. You swallow spit, teeth sinking into your cheek. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.  

You’ve thought about this conversation before hundreds of times. Often. How it would go, what you would say if you ever got the chance to say it. But having the opportunity to confess right in front you makes it all feel hundreds of miles away. 

Your mind has filled in the details each time with it going so badly. Bachira’s face, disgusted with you or otherwise unsettled always sears itself in your psyche so strong you  bite your tongue. You always found him a little unsettled by you in you thoughts. Disgusted with you for liking him so much even knowing he’s not into omegas. You don’t want your own cowardice or misunderstanding to get in the way of being honest with him after so long. 

You would’ve waited two more years to even speak to him had you been given a choice. But now with him in front of you, how could you possibly do that? It’s the universes way of ripping the band-aid off, you think. Such a tricky outcome can only being ordained by faith.  

“Well, I uhm, I was—am, in love with with you. Since we were kids so uhm, after we split ways I couldn’t really apologize. I w-wanted to get along with you again for a long time but I couldn’t…” You shake your head, refusing to see his expression. Terrified that what you’ll see is disappointment. “I wanted to sort my feelings out first so I could approach you honestly, I guess. I k-know you like alphas, so I’m not expecting anything really! I just wanted t-to ease the burden on myself a bit instead of hiding.”  

There’s a long, long stretch of silence. It feels like forever.  

“You’re in love with me? But you like omegas don’t you?”  

“Not exclusively I guess? I h-haven’t figured it out yet. I’ve never been with another alpha but my feelings for you are real. I know it’s burdensome to hear that but—”  

“It’s not burdensome,” He cuts you off instantly. Your eyes widen slightly. His expression has completely changed. “Are you being serious? You’re in love with me? Since we were kids? Even after finding out I’m an alpha?”  

You nod slowly. “Yeah. That was also part of the reason. Learning you were an alpha brought up questions. Uhm. Anyways. It’s been four years and I still can’t get over it so I didn’t want to put myself through that again. I hope it’ll make you believe that I don’t hate you at least,” 

“You still love me, then.” He says softly. “Right?”  

You flush, wondering why he’s asking. “Yeah. Same as always.”  

He covers his face with his hands, suddenly grinning. Your eyes grow wide at that openly. “Aaaah!! I’m so happy I could die right now.”  

“Bachira?”  

“You big dummy. You should’ve told me before. How come you’re the only one in the entire world who didn’t know?” 

“S-sorry?”  

For the first time in this entire conversation, you let yourself look at Bachira who’s positively beaming at you. You blink rapidly, feeling suddenly deeply unsure of yourself and your surroundings.  

“I love you too, stupid,” He says, sniffling. “Since we were practically babies.” He sniffles again, more tears streaming down his face. “Uwah, I can’t stop crying, I’m so happy.”  

“But you…don’t you also like…?”  

“Alphas? Yeah I do,” Bachira hums happily. “I’ve never been with an omega. And I’m not really that interested in them, either. I’m clingy you know? And selfish. You were the exception. My one and only omega.”  

You cover your face with your hands. 

“What’s wrong?” Bachira asks.  

You laugh. “I’m so happy I think I could die.” You mimic. Tears wet your lashes with unusual swiftness. “I never thought in a million years you would ever like me back. It wasn’t even a possibility for me.”  

It feels completely surreal. You want to pinch yourself. If it’s a dream, you want to thank whatever power is responsible for making it such a pleasant one and you never want to wake up from it. He…Bachira loves you. The way you love him. It feels so impossible. Your mind can’t catch up, leaving you slack jawed.  

“Me too,” He hums lovingly. “Ahh, I don’t know if I should cry or shout.”  

“You’ll disturb the neighbors.”  

His grin is crooked. “Then you should do something to keep me quiet,”  

Your face grows hot at the sudden implication. You’re not a virgin but the idea is immediately too stimulating for you to act normally. “What’s with that…”  

“You’re acting like you’ve never kissed anyone before.” He teases. You shoot him a sharp look.  

Your eyes go down at your lap. “Don’t tease me. I want too, I just don’t know if I can,”  

You feel Bachira move over to you. He sits himself besides you on the couch, tucking himself against your side and moving himself to look at your face where you’re ducked down. You can feel the tingling in your skin at the proximity. Overbearing alpha scent that feels like a tight hug only because it’s Bachira.   

“How can I not tease you when you’re being so cute, hm?” He hums. He’s so close to you. “You normally don’t react to anything but then you behave timid like this. It’s so cute. Don’t act shy and kiss me already. Or at least let me kiss you,”  

“Bachira…” You murmur, trying not to explode.  

“Ehhh?? That’s not my name.”  

You laugh a little, picking your head up. “Meguru,”  

“Better!”  

You laugh again, helplessly happy. There’s no word in any language tantamount to what you feel - this much you’re sure of. Embarrassment doesn’t subside quickly but seeing Bachira in front of you makes you happy enough to try look forward. He looks older, somehow. His smile is familiarly boyish, sharpened teeth and piercing eyes even stronger than before.  

Pointed, predatory - lidded eyes meet yours. “Let me kiss you.”  

You nod, unable to form words to say yes but wanting it so terribly.  

The second kiss you ever share with Bachira in your life is exactly like him. Overwhelming. A hard press of lips followed by his tongue sliding across the soft seam of your mouth, coaxing you open until he can slip his tongue in. Immediately salacious and hot, the kind of kiss you can only have in total privacy. The intentions of it are obvious. Your body singes at the feeling, immediately burdened with the weight of life-longing wantings as you kiss him. Deep and melty, your hands reaching for his waist body urging you to pull him closer.  

You feel something tingling at the base of your spine as Bachira slides his tongue against yours hotly. Wet muscle tracing your mouth, drawing lines over every inch like he’s trying to devour you whole from the inside.  

The scent of him drives you insane. He’s so close. It’s suffocating - rich, homey burnt honey and amber with something spiced clouding your mind as you breathe him through hot panting breaths and kisses and kisses. Wetness grows between your legs, the skin under your clothes starting to itch.  

You’ve had years now to understand your heat. You know exactly when it’s coming, when it starts and how it feels. You’re not due for another few weeks but you know what your body is experiencing like the back of your hand. Bachira won’t stop kissing you long enough to let you warn him, tongue busy lapping at your lips. He swallows the little noises you make. You put your hands on his shoulders as you push him away, chest heaving through unbearably labored breaths.  

A whimper in your subconscious - animal in nature, whines at you indignant. Inner omega burdened with desire and overwhelmingly craving the alpha so readily available. Estrus symptoms rush you strongly as your eyes droop, pressing your legs together hard so no slick makes a mess on the couch.  

“Meguru,” You breathe out, barely. “My heat.”  

“Was it soon?”  

You shake your head. “I t-think you triggered it,” You huff, keeping your hand on his shoulder and wincing at the way your body keens.  

His eyes fill with excitement. “Are you saying you wanted me so bad I made your heat come early?”  

“Don’t say it so..haah… blatantly.” 

He shivers, scent and pheromones releasing even stronger than before. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulder as he overwhelms you. He leans in close to you, teeth nipping at your jaw - fangs dragging feather light on your scent glands.  

“It doesn’t seem like you want to stop you know?” He murmurs the words against your neck, eliciting a low whine.  

“Yu-san is supposed to be coming back.”  

“She won’t for a while. It’s already this late, I bet she’s doing something else,” 

“You don’t know that though,” You reason. He hums happily, nonplussed about all of it.  

“Are you worried she’ll walk in? I can always fuck you upstairs. In my old room. She won’t catch us if you’re quiet,” His voice has a rasp to you you’ve never heard before. It’s usually smooth and upbeat, but there’s grit to it now that has you buckling at the knees. “I’m your alpha right? I should take care of you.” 

“Who said you were my…?”  

He gives you a serious look before you can get the rest of the words out. “Do you really think I’d let you be with somebody other than me now that I know? Don’t you think that���s silly?”  

The predatory hunger in his gaze makes your breath catch. A gazelle in the maw of a lion, you wonder if all prey animals tremble violently when they at risk of being eaten. There’s such a thing as survival instinct, but there are abnormalities and exceptions. Bachira bears his fangs you, a blatant claim of his possession - teeth nearly drawing blood on the thin skin of your neck and you think to yourself you want him to eat you. To split you apart and lick you up down to bone, until your vision clouds with nothing but the sight of his hunger.  

You want it so much you gasp, a bolt of lightning crackling through each of your veins. You shake your head obedient to your own want.  

“My alpha,” You try the words out, heaven on your tongue. A claim. “My Meguru,”  

“Yours forever. Always yours,” He hums, contented with the show of submission. “Oh, baby. I’ll take such good care of you know? Knot you nice and pretty. You’ll like I promise. Even alphas like taking my knot,” His hand slides under neath your sweater, slides just between the edge of your stockings and your bare skin. “But you’re an omega—my omega, and you’re perfect so you’ll love it won’t you?”  

You feel drunk on the euphoria. Lust, lovesickness, lenience, all of them make you want to melt entirely. It’s so unlike you. During other heats with other people, you always managed to anchor yourself somehow. You want to blame it on your biology.  

You’re  hardwired to want this in some ways.  

But now you’re old enough to know there’s more to it. More to why his touch is safe. What’s etched into your bones is Bachira’s name only. Only him. His knot, his alpha instinct, his fangs - they’re what transforms you into something beyond yourself. You want the alpha in Bachira, want him to sink his teeth into softness you’ve always kept inside of him only.  

“Want you,” You confess between bitten lips “Meguru, want you so bad,” 

 Nothing in your life has ever been so true. No words you’ve spoken have bore as much weight as that admittance. Bachira licks onto your mouth without subtlety, fangs sinking into the plush of your bottom lip with lustblown out in eyes.  

“Come on, then baby.” He tempts. “Let me give you whatever you want, mmkay?”  

Your agreement comes out more like a whine than a firm yes. Bachira laces his fingers together with yours in the way he used to when you were kids walking across the road. You can barely feel your legs as you hurry up the stairs, worn but loved photos of childhood life and home. There’s pinned up medals and photos and each step you climb makes your heart race a little faster.  

It dawns on you too late that Bachira is the love of your life. Your omega pines for it, longs for the intimacy of it. Alpha, alpha, alpha - Meguru. A hymn etched into your heart.  

He tugs you into his room and locks it quick, groping desperately for the lights before pinning you up against the door in one swift motion. You feel your back against the wood as his hands move all over you. He squeezes the soft curve of your hips, nails dragging light against your stockings as he hitches your leg up kissing you more. Sloppier, messier - breathlessly chasing your lips and never pulling away. Always running after you when you stop to breathe like he’s destined to be your only source of oxygen. You claw at him, your eyes fluttering shut, rolling your up against him as slick wets the inside of your tights.  

It’s embarrassing how wet you really are. It’s never been so bad So blatant. He laughs a little, the hard press of his cock against your core making you sputter. Giggly as he feels it, hand squeezing your knee tight where he holds you up.  

“So wet,”  He murmurs against your mouth. “You’re so wet baby. It’s making a mess you know? You’re not usually this messy are you? You’re not one for bad manners.”  

You whine against his lips. “Don’t make fun of me.”  

“Stupid. I’m praising you,” He replies. “Praising your perfect pussy the way it deserves. Always giving so much to me. Don’t you think it’s mean if I don’t give back just a little?”  

“Touch me,” You beg slowly losing your sense of shame. “Knot me. Fuck me. Wanna bond with you.” You sniffle, overwhelmed as you plant your face against his neck “Wanna be with you forever,”  

A low growl slips from his throat, makes you so weak you could break with the slightest touch. “Don’t say that lightly.”  

You claw at your sobriety. Overtaken with emotions or not, the desire to bonded—mated isn’t a suggestion from thin air. You want proof of him in your life forever, the shape of his teeth in your neck. It’s been so fucking long. You’ve pined for him for nearly your entire life. Clutching onto him is the only thing you can think to do.  

Pulling away, you search desperately for your reflection in his eyes, trying to show your utter sincerity.   

“I’m not,” You say with as much conviction as you can. Embarrassment makes your face hot. “I know I’m in heat but I…” Your lip trembles. “I’ve thought about it. I won’t regret. aI want you so much, Meguru. Bond with me.”  

He whines. “You’re so unfair. You can’t just say that and expect me to be fine. You don’t know how bad I want it. Want you. For so long.”  

“You have me,” You whisper, trying not to look away. “It’s hard for me to say stuff like that, alright? So if you get it bond with me.”  

“You’re so fucking cute.” He praises. “Of course I will. How can I say no when you ask me like that? So pretty, so,” He takes a deep breath. “So sweet. So perfect.”  

Your lungs expand with a breath. “Meguru,”  

“Wore something so cute only to get it all messy,” He hums. His hands pulling up on your sweater. “Who got this for you?”  

“Uni friends,” You mumble, heart picking up speed. Bachira draws the long sweater up on your form, sliding it up over your ass and waist. It’s shaded enough that the large wet spot isn’t obvious. His hands grip your ass, moan slipping from his mouth in appreciation for the touch. “T-they told me it’s in style.”  

He tugs the sweater off of your body and tosses it somewhere on the floor, leaving you mostly naked aside from your underwear. You paw at his shirt making he laughs warmly.  

“Wanna get me naked so bad?”  

Yes. You feel ashamed thinking about how much you wanna feel his skin. Bachira is all sinewy muscle under his clothes. He’s grown a little over the last four years, even though you used to be the same height. It’s a touch of it everywhere, broader shoulders and deeper musculature, a physique carved from so much training. The muscles of his torso make you swallow thickly, the promise of dark hair trailing from his stomach at the top of his pants.  

“You’re staring so much. I’ll get embarrassed.”  

You find your hands smoothing up his chest and feel aroused about how good it looks. Weird gratitude settles over you seeing your manicured nails on Bachira’s strong chest. Too pretty for an alpha, but sharp enough that you believe it. The thought of the two of you together sends you reeling with thoughts. You’ve always wanted it. Always wanted him.  

He only lets you admire him for so long. His hands go around to your back, unclasping your bra in one go. You let him take it off you - self-conscious in how he zeros in on your chest. Nipples hardening in arousal, his hands cup them and squeeze. The rough feeling and grip of his palms makes you gasp - harsh in the way you can only imagine someone who fucks alphas can be. Keening, you watching Bachira lean back in to kiss you briefly before leaving hot, wet kisses down your neck and chest.  

Before he gets any further, he drags you along to his bed. Manhandling you until you’re laying on your back on his sheets, he climbs over you with appreciation. His eyes trace your body before landing at your core, sopping wet from heat-addled arousal. You cover your face with your hands.  

Wordless, he grabs your tights and pulls them down from your body hard.  

There it becomes obvious, your wetness. Humiliation blooms in the pit of your gut as Bachira sits between your legs, pulling your them apart at the knee with complete and utter fascination. You’re wearing light colored panties - plain with silly patterns, pale yellow. Your arousal is no doubt visible, soaking beyond just the inset of your panties but the entire thing. Slick runs down your thighs, down your ass. It’s egregious, excess appropriately reflective of how you ache. Your body is wholly for a knot with how much of it there is.  

The longer Bachira stares, the more it pulses and throbs under his vision. You feel soaked from the waist down. “Is it always so wet…?”  

“It’s not… usually this bad.” You admit. Bachira growls something deep in his chest.  

Before you can protest, he rolls soaked underwear off you in one go and leaves you completely bare.  

He’s imposing, stood on his knees over you - nearly in a trance. Bachira pulls you up by your waist, his thigh supporting  your spine as he folds you up until your legs are in the air - bending down until your cunt is directly in front of his face. You gasp seeing his face between your legs. Both of his arms are secured around your thighs as he takes a sharp inhale. Slick drips down towards your belly because of the way you’re angled and bent. It’s humiliating seeing your legs overhead. He presses his cheek against slicked-soaked inner thighs.  

Holding you still like that, back off the bed nearly folded in half with only his own body to support you - he dives face deep into your cunt without a second of forewarning. Your whole being lurches at the sensation, the lacking of build-up going straight to your tender core.  

Bachira laps at your cunt like he’s starving for it. There’s no technique, nothing but sheer animalistic hunger as his tongue dives furiously into your sex - nose bumping and brushing your clit with each wet, forceful slide of his tongue, swallowing down as much of your slick with each go. You feel your body go weak, lightheaded at being held and ate so viciously. Arousal comes in waves until finds a pace for himself with little word of instruction other than desperate keening and vague asks for more. Your eyes are closed as tension draws in your stomach. His mouth finds your clit, sucking gently and letting the flat plane of his tongue smoth on the sensitive bundle of nerves over and over - sucking carefully.  

His face is red when you open your eyes to look at him slurp your pussy, slick up and into his throat as if its a life force. Your eyes lock and you whimper at how he smiles into your pussy, keeping rhythm. He hums against you as the feeling builds and builds and builds. Heat makes you lightheaded, your thighs trembling, feet pointed with your toes curling as you reach the inevitable end of your first orgasm. His arms are securing holding you and taking the weight off of your spine - both of them holding you tight. You see the veins flex in his forearms as he grips you. Something about it sends you careening off the edge.  

The first orgasm Bachira gives you happens like that. He makes you cum with your spine halfway up in the air, tension in your body going so tight before releasing all at once. Orgasm makes you crashland. You cum so hard, you’re blindsided. Tugging as from his grip, your thighs squish his face as you squirm, all the muscles in your lower body tremoring from release.  

“M-meguru, can’tcan’tcan’t,” You feel his mouth follow you through orgasm in what reverence. His tongue dips inbetween your folds, the only mercy you receive.  

All at once, he lets you down gently until your laid limp in his bed. His face is covered in slick and drool as you lay there gasping and twitching erratically in the aftermath of your first induced heat orgasm. You stare at him, dazed as he wipes his face with his hands then licks them clean.  

“You taste so fucking sweet,” He mumbles, awestruck. His hand comes down next to your head, nothing but pure adoration in his vision - fangs bared. The yellow gold of his eyes pins you to his bed. “I can’t get enough of you. Didn’t know anything could taste that good.”  

He presses his mouth to yours in a way that’s almost violent, holding your jaw so you can taste yourself on his tongue. When he’s pleased, he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek and all over your face. You can’t think of a single coherent string of thoughts, even after your first orgasm.  

Like a livewire, every place Bachira touches, lingers for minutes. Just his name, just his knot - the only things your brain can make space for so aroused.  

“Did I already fuck you stupid?” He asks, breathless laugh on his lips. “Aw, baby - we just got started you know? You can’t tap out so early,” He pats your thigh with sticky hand making you yelp and waking you up form your haze. “How can I make you my mate without your full attention, hm?”  

You blink at him, tears at your lashes at his face. Your heart feels strange, so relieved, so pleasant, you think you could die. The smallest, soberest part of you is happy to be with Bachira but your instinct is practically clawing at your chest begging for more.  

“Meguru,” You want to burst into tears but settle for soft sniffles. “Meguru, I love you. Love you, love you so much. I love you.”  

“Ehh? Why’re you crying dummy?” His voice is tender, so thoughtful. Bachira is so selfish while being so loyal at the same time it makes your heart sing. “I love you too, so so much. Are you crying ‘cause it felt good?” 

He leans into your space, letting your arms wrap around his neck with a sniffle. “It felt so good it was scary,”  

He smiles at you - beaming. You want to hold onto him forever. Your soul has never ached so much for another person in your entire life, You press onto him tight, chest squeezing against his as you pull him in for a hug.  

He laughs then, squeezing you in his arms before rolling around in the bed. The innocence of the gesture brings a quiet giggle to your lips as Bachira presses kisses all over you. Soft pecks on your shoulder, on your nape, at the crown of your head. “Wanna look at me this time, hm? Would it make you feel better?”  

You nod in his arms and he smiles at you again, so sweet. He’s different. His egoism is so present, so there - selfishness carving him into the man he is now. Bachira does as he pleases with you, but gives you these little mercy’s admits his ruthlessness that make you want to fold under his touch.  

He lays on his back and drags you along with him. You’re laid ontop of him, chest to chest - and he keeps you like that before gazing into your eyes so adoringly, you urge to look away. He holds your gaze, not intending to let you.  

“You’re staring too much.” You murmur.  

“I can’t look at you even though you’re so pretty? Unfair.” He says back just as fast.  

“You say embarrassing stuff so easily…”  

He smiles at you. “Because I mean it, dummy. There’s no one prettier than you,”  

“That’s not,” Your breath catches as you feel his hands grab your ass, pressing your face to his neck, scent glands next to your nose. “…ngh, it’s not..”  

“Don’t say it’s not true or I’ll get angry,” His voice is sing-songy as he gropes you with both hands, content to feel you as you rub your body against his desperately craving more touch. You want to be in his skin. “You’re prettiest to me.”  

“Meguru,” You whimper. “Meguru,”  

“Begging for my knot with such a sweet voice. How deceiving.”  The contrast in the tone of his voice versus his touch makes you long for him. “Do you want my cock so bad already?”  

You frown feeling bashful as you nod.  

“Ah, but you’ve never had a knot in here before have you? Not a real one,” He hums, voice thick with amusement. “So I have to open you up nice till you’re nice and soft on my fingers mmkay? Here, turn this way.” 

Bachira lays you on your side, letting you adjust so your arm can slide under him comfortable. He lays facing you, pulling you towards him until your legs slot together - one of your legs locked between his with the other on top. He’s face to face with you like this. He slides one of his arms under your back to pull you to him even further, the other reaching over around your thighs and sliding his digits against your slick cunt. Your own arm bent at the elbow, you hold onto Bachira’s face locking eyes with him. Hands splay at his face, hoping your expression is enough to get the points across. He smiles at you, fangs glinting out shiny as he stares back.  

No words are shared between you but you get the feeling he knows exactly what you want to tell.  

You feel his middle finger slide down until it catches on your entrance making you whine. He hums sogtly, forearm pressed against your thigh as he pushes his first digit into you slowly. Your lips meet again in something softer, heat stricken pining you moan as he sinks into your welcoming heat. His voice is a whisper against your skin.  

“Fuck, nghh - Meguru,”  

“Your body is made for this,” He says, awestruck and giggly. “It’s going in so easy. Needs my knot so bad it’s getting impatient and ready. So fucking wet,”  

You huff impatiently. Rarely are you so petulant and impatient. You want more, need him inside so much deeper. From the first time you had sex to now, you’ve never experienced this much longing to be penetrated. To be fucked hard and deep, hardwired in your subconscious.  

 It’s never been important until now, until Bachira. His first slides in and out so easily, you only start to feel it at two. You tuck against Bachira’s neck, feeling the shape of his fingers. They’re angular, bony but long and pretty. They reach into you deeper than you’re own even with just two.  

“There’s a spot that makes you feel good, right?’ He hums. You can feel the reverb of his voice from his chest. “Where is it… here?”  

He hits it almost instant, rubbing your gspot - lightly swollen from heat. You arch against him as Bachira places an appreciative kiss on your shoulder. “It’s there. I’ll touch it more for you, ‘kay.”  

So he does. He angles his fingers, his wrists in such a way that he can rub up against it in a beckoning gesture. Your clit throbs in response to the stimulation - sticky, honeyed want coiling in your gut and abdomens as you sensitivity skyrockets even higher. Pressure builds slower with his fingers, just two - pumping in and out of your soaking wet pussy noisily as Bachira concentrates, low lidded eyes. Pressing his lips to yours and swallowing your tiny whimpers. You feel like you’re going to burst when he adds a third finger in. You’re not expecting the stretch - not painful but full. Makes you feel even needier, canting your hips against the motion of his fingers.  

You cum again dully throbbing all over your body - the sensation snapping like something brittle - clean and even but obvious. Your cunt tightens, clamping down on Bachira’s ring, middle, and pointer and how deeply they reach inside of you. You’ve never cum like this before, never cum from the inside even during heat. Silken walls clamp down on his thick fingers never wanting him to go, only wanting more.  

The arousal is just strong enough to make you snap. You gasp, nearly biting his lips as you shudder and rut - trembling in the strong grip of Bachira’s arms. The praise he whispers against your hot skin makes you feel so wanted. Your brain chants for his cock, his knot so eagerly you don’t know how to get it across other than begging him until your voice gives. The omega in you whines, sniffles brattily when Bachira pulls his fingers from you leaving your cunt so sorely empty.  

“Fuck me,” You express, trying to keep your composure as best you can. “Can’t think.”  

“Eh? That’s a first,” He hums. He draws your hips to his, hand on your ass as his clothed erection is pinned up against your sticky sex. “You’re always overthinking with this pretty face but now you want my knot so much you can’t?”  

The words make you want to collapse, how mean he says them while still being sweet. 

“I’m sorry,” You hiccup. “I love you  

“Shh, shh - it’s okay,” He murmurs. If you were more there you’d know he’s merely teasing. “Don’t cry. Just have to stick beside me from now on okay? All mine. Gonna bite you and make it permanent so you can’t run away.”  

“Okay,”  

“And you can’t show how cute you are like this to anyone else, okay?”  

You sniffle. “Okay,”  

“Say it baby,” He echoes. “Say I’m yours and you’re mine.”  

So you repeat the words as best you can in this state, slurring your words. “I’m yours and… you’re mine.”  

He grins. “You’re so cute. So perfect. Ah, I’m getting jealous of other people just thinking about it.”  

You blurt the words out drunk off of the sensations in your body when you hear Bachira talk of jealousy. “I broke up with my last boyfriend because of you,” You mumble, inhaling his scent “He was really nice to me but I couldn’t get over you even though we were together for a year,” You let your eyes flutter shut. “It was just a few days ago. So, there’s nothing to be jealous over,”  

A long silence stretches between you at the confession as you listen to Bachira’s heartbeat pick-up pace until it’s a loud pump. The sudden change makes you concerned, pulling away to see what he’s thinking. You assume it was going to be something cheeky and playful like always, but when you look at him - he’s blushing full red. Completely bashful, eyes blown wide and blinking rapidly. You feel oddly amused at it as he presses his lips together, hugging you until you laugh.  

“You’re soo unfair. Ugh, how could you…ugh” He trails off to stare at you. “You love me?”  

You smile at him breaking out into a giggle. “A lot. It’s embarrassing.”  

He sighs blissfully content.  

“I can’t look at you while I bond with you but I want to when I knot you ‘kay? Wanna hold you really close.” 

“Meguru,”  

He whistles at the sound of his name on your lips, like it’s all you need to say. “Lay on your tummy baby. “ 

He moves aside to let you flip over until you’re laying flat on your stomach. You lift your hips up slightly to make yourself more accessible, burying your face in your arms crossed in front you. You feel anticipation build up in your body, thoughts complete clouded. Your incisors sink in your lower lip as you listen to Bachira unzip and take off his pants, wiggling your hips lightly to tempt him. His hand comes down to swat your ass in a playful gesture. You yelp.  

He’s quiet for a while, his hands coming onto your back. “What’s this?”  

Your eyes widen as his fingers brush over the spot. You hadn’t thought about it. Your tattoo. Shit.  

“…A tattoo,”  

“Of a bumble bee and a flower,” Bachira repeats, shit-eating grin audible. “What kind of flower?”  

“Kuroyuri.” You say, embarrassed. “Stands for love and curse.”  

“Oh you’re really that in love with me, hm? How old is this? It’s healed. You missed me so much? I’m so happy.” He says breathlessly, elation so obvious in his voice it makes you shy. “Tell me all about when I’m done fucking you, okay baby?”  

You bury your face away from him, feeling shy as he kisses the placement before moving along.  

The position doesn’t let you see Bachira’s cock. Instead you feel it, which makes it much more imposing than you ever thought possible. The weight, the heft, the thickness of it is makes your breath hitch as you finally feel it outside of the confines of his boxers. You don’t need to look at it, you can feel how massive it is. He slides it along the curve of your ass and you can sense it so obviously it makes your stomach churn. He slides it between your ass, pushing it through both cheeks but not penetrating and it stretches you. You can barely contain the shock in your voice, pussy throbbing at the idea of him being inside of you with something so unbearably big.  

He hasn’t even knotted you. How can he possibly be that big without a knot. Your voice trembles.  

“Meguru… you’re huge.”  

He laughs, breathless. Cocky and egoistic that sends your spine tingling like a solar flare. “You don’t like it?”  

“I’m a little scared,” You admit. “But I want it at the same time.”  

“Don’t be scared,” His voice is tender but his words are filthy. “You’re made for me. Your cunts all split open and soaking wet because it’s begging you for my knot, pretty. Just mine. You’ll feel so full with me. So don’t be nervous and let me in okay?”  

You breathe deeply shakily, eyes fluttering closed at the promise of it. “Okay, Meguru.”  

You find yourself thankful that you’re not looking at him, but at the same time - you’re unsure if it’s better. You have to focus in on the sensation. There’s nothing but posters on the wall for you to look at and your eyes are barely focused it. Every inch of your skin is dry kindle and Bachira is the lighter - the match, the spark that sends you reeling in the midst of your heat.  

Your heats are always drunken stupors, messy hormonal sessions. To you they’ve always been akin to intense inebriated sex that’s painful unless you cum a few times.  

But with Bachira your heat is all encompassing flame. It’s like letting the sun swallow you whole, sweat dripping down your spine. When Bachira pushes the fat head of his cock into your tight, wanting, needy fucking cunt - you cry so loud you might scream. Whats left of your sense snaps as your body throbs for cock, you push yourself back onto him with a groan. You want him to knot you, want him to fuck you full and cum deep inside and plug you up. Want him to make you so whole and he’s so good because he is. 

 You feel your fists tangle in the sheets, and then feel Bachira’s body slump over yours from behind. His hand falls over yours, squeezing it as the thick swell of his shaft pushes into you your pussy painfully slow and stakes its claim. You feel like an animal the way you give way to your desires.  

The sensations and scent in the room is so strong your eyes sting and your mouth waters, drool pooling at your lips as Bachira splits your pussy open completely on his fat cock. Everything is sweet,  coats your mouth as you take in a sharp gasp of air. You choke his name out from your lips, whimpering at the soft growl in his voice when he finally bottoms out. Inch by inch, veins of his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you.  

Your body is hypersensitive. You’re so wet, so out of your mind with that your thighs are trembling at the edge of an orgasm. If he moves the right way, you know you’ll cum instantly.  

He leans over your shoulder and you pick your head up weakly letting him lick into your mouth. “Gonna bond you. Gonna mark you and mate you and making you all fucking mine. Sink my fangs into your pretty neck, my pretty omega. You’re so precious baby. Make me so hard. I love you, I love you so much.”  

“Bite me,” Is all you can get out, your brain can barely think hard enough for anything else. “Please. Please bite me,”  

It’s sudden. Sharp. Exactly what you want.  

You feel the sensation of teeth in your neck and everything around you halts to honor it. An orgasm shatters you in the process of it as Bachira pulls out and thrusts his hips and you cum so hard you shake violently - hands fisted in the sheets and pussy spasming as you cum relentlessly. Bottomed out, you allow your body to take it all in before the feeling your bond starts to draw in so much clarity. Belly fully, muscles tight - everything slows the the whirring blades of a fan coming a halt or a car worshiping a red light. The world stops spinning, briefly - mind and soul and spirit melding together his fangs descent into your neck. You feel the sharpening teeth sink into the soft flesh of your nape and cry out at the dull sensation of pain, outweighed by the out-of-body euphoria.  

It’s like everything makes sense. Every moment, every concern, every heartbreak - every minute apart. Love like a nerve split raw, open, tender - make tears pool at your lashes and spill down your face as Bachira bonds with you and stays there long enough to penetrate. All endorphins, pleasure, pain. Something clicks steadily into place inside of you and makes sense of all of your mess. Everything you are. 

A sense of completeness like nothing you could ever know without him. You love him so much it swallows you whole.   

Bonding, a mark of permanence - can be rejected by the body. Bred into your secondary sex after years of evolution. A unique trait to alpha and omega sexes, whether same or opposite sex pairs. Bonds are equivalent to sharing yourself with another person. Weak bonds can be broken, and some bonds won’t take at all.  

When your bond with Bachira takes so easily some part of you just knows. Some place beyond instinct, beyond every thing in the world that defines you. All of you has always existed in part with Bachira. And this pleasure, this desire for closeness can only be derived from years of unconditional love.  

Whatever would happen of you, had you been born an alpha or beta, Bachira would be born alongside you and make you complete or you, him. The way the sensation connects you like an invisible thread is proof of that.  The ease of it. The desire between you is greater because of it’s exclusivity, because you prefer omegas and always will - but no one compares to Bachira regardless of sex or anatomy. He is yours because he is him, sweet smells and soft eyes and need.  

You can’t help but weep about it as you know he feels it too, secretions from his teeth dulling the pain from the wound as he finally pulls out from the mark and laps at the blood.  

You feel such intense relief, heat subsiding leaving only pleasure and warmth. .  

You love him so much you could stay like this. You love him so much nothing else in the world could ever sway you from it. You don’t care what it makes you. What it means. You love Bachira as he loves you - conventionally unconventional. Beautifully imperfect.  

Tears slip down your face as Bachira licks your wounds for you like always.  

“I’m yours, baby.” Bachira says, soft. Whispers your first name as he says it. “I love you so much. My whole life. Since I was little. Since you called out to me and let me show you my dribbling. I can’t stand being without you, you know? So don’t ever leave me,”  

You laugh a little, sobering. “As if I could.”  

“Wanna knot you and hold you, kay? Gimme a sec.”  

Your body whines at sensation of Bachira slowly pulling out before flipping you onto your back in missionary. He’s quick to do it. You glance at his shiny cock , light throb in your neck as he shoves the whole thing back in one go and making your sensitive hole cum all over again. Your own body is ridiculous to you. You’re making a mess on his cock and definitely of his bed in the process, gasping as your muscles spasm in your waist. 

“S-sorry,”  

“Don’t apologize for that, dummy.” He kisses you. “Here. Hold onto me.”  

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and let yourself slump into bed, whining as Bachira fucks you a few times - sloppy, wet thrusts noisy in the room around you. You feel them in your exhaustion, another wave of tension making your stomach burn. 

“Gonna, fuck—knot you, gonna knot you, ‘kay? Touch yourself for me.”  

“Knot me, Meguru.”  

Bachira bottoms out. You feel his cum flood your cunt - so thick it’s in a stream as the base of his thick cock swells inside your pussy. You’re already so stretched by his dick on its own, you can’t imagine the sensation of the real thing until you feel it.  

It throbs hotly inside of you, deep. The knot swells up until it’s fat enough to stretch your open, slick pussy even further. You feel it in spite of how wet you are, the sensation rubbing on your walls raw punching all the air out of your lungs as he cock fills you completely. You feel it in your throat, his knot in your belly plugging you full as you breathe.  

“Fuck,” Your voice breaks. “You’re so huge, what the fuck.”  

He pauses then laughs hysterically as he sinks into you unable to move. “Thanks! I’m pretty proud of it.”  

You chuckle tiredly. “How long does this last?”  

He hums. “An hour-ish?”  

Your eyes go wide. “Shit. Really?”  

“Uh-huh,” Bachira says happily, collapsing ontop of you. “And when it goes down I’m going to fuck you some more.”  

“Mercy… my stamina… Meguru I’ll die.”  

“No way. I’ve waited too long.” He says with a deep breath. “But I’ll let you rest for now.”  

You close your eyes, smiling. “Pfft. Thanks.”  

__  

Your back is going to give out.  

Athletes are frightening. Your body is covered in bite marks underneath the collar as you peel out of Bachira’s arms in the morning after. It’s 7am, and the sun still hasn’t risen since it’s the dead of winter. You stare at him, kissing his cheek as he lays - completely rested and healthy. Bastard.  

“Meguru,” You hum, stirring him awake. “I’m gonna run to the store and pick us up something to eat.”  

“Noooo,” He says, half asleep trying to wrestle you back into bed. “Stay here. With me,”  

“No,” You reprimand, peeling away from him. He whines out loud. “I’m sticky. I’m gonna borrow your loose clothes okay? I’ll be back soon.”  

“Booo,”  

Ultimately too tired to protest, you yawn and crawl out of your bed, scrambling to the shower after rummaging through tubs of clean, old clothes in Bachiras’s room and picking whatever you think will fit.  

You shower, scrubbing yourself inside and out. You feel apologetic using the products in the shower as you scrape cum out of yourself as best you can and scrub your body. Layers of sweat and slick between your thighs have dried down and feel incredibly unpleasant now that your sober and your heat is mostly settled or it will be for another few days. You’re thankful that Bachira’s childhood home is the second most familiar place in your life as it allows you to get clean in hot water without feeling awkward.  

Once you’re cleaned, you dry off and borrow Bachira’s lotion - rubbing into your skin and taking care of your appearance best you can. You examine yourself in the bathroom mirror, feeling sudden humiliation at your face. You’re practically glowing, and you reek of Bachira and fucked out omega even after the bath. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and thanking all higher powers that you don’t have to see your parents for a few more days.  

After gathering yourself in the bathroom, you check on Bachira one more time in his room and smile as sleeps softly before slipping downstairs. 

His mom hasn’t returned yet. Her shoes, jacket, and other belongings aren’t in the house and her gifts are where you left them. You feel thankful about that as your eyes search for your bag, still sitting on the couch where you left it. Shuffling through it, you pop some heat medication dry before doing anything else.  

You grab it. It still has some battery left, left on DND. You check the time only, deciding you can swipe later. Heading out the door quickly, you make sure to lock up using the key underneath the mat for your quick trip to 7/11.  

A brisk walk later in the frostbitten air, you enter the convenience store. A bored looking cashier nods at you as you smile flatly in return.  

You pick up a couple of things. XXL condoms, juice and soda water, some snacks and ramen - along with some easy hot foods that can keep you both alive until you can get a better meal. Bachira has a decent appetite but you don’t think he’ll be up for a while to eat proper. He likes to sleep in during vacations.  

“Ah, excuse—Bachira?”  

Your eyes widen as you meet eyes with the familiar stranger and his friend. You know both of these people.  

You could not have possibly met them at a worse time.  

“Isagi-kun…” You bow, awkwardly thinking of what ways you could end your life right there in the 7/11. “And this is…?”  

“Rin Itoshi. He prefers Rin,”  

“Rin-kun,”  

The taller, brooding one gives you a look, crinkling his nose a little. You want to die. Your gaze turns to Isagi which is not much better as he’s wearing the worst shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen in your life.  

“I see. Nice to meet you Rin-kun,” You say, looking away, “What are you two doing here? This is me and Bachira’s hometown.”  

“We’re supposed to visit him in a couple of days actually but decided to do a little sight-seeing first. There’s more of us but they’re asleep at the hotel.”  

You just nod, silence stretching between you before Isagi breaks it.  

“I’m glad the two of you made up,” He says. “When did you guys start to reconcile? I always felt really guilty after the whole mall incident. Glad to see you  both doing well,”  

Your brain moves too slow to lie. “Uh. Last night was the first time we saw each other in a few years,”  

His eyes widen. “So the picture he posted was…?”  

You squint. “What picture?”  

Isagi makes a guilty face, unsure of what to do. Before you can ask, Rin, pulls his phone out and shows you something.  

It’s you and Bachira in bed with you asleep in his arms - your bitemark and visible tattoo showing in the image as his hand cradles the back of your head while you’re cuddling him in your sleep.. You’re both mostly covered by the sheets. The only caption is an emoticon and you’re not tagged. You blink, wiping your eyes. It’s so like him, you aren’t sure if you should laugh or cry. You sigh deeply instead.  

“You didn’t know?”  

“Haven’t checked my phone since..” You trail off. He’s so reckless. “Thanks for uh… showing me. I’m gonna head back but you and your team mates should come visit sometime. I cook hotpot for New Years so it’d be nice to have you all.”  

Isagi smiles amicably, politely ignoring the situation. You’re thankful your partners friend has so much tact unlike he himself. “Of course. I’ll ask Bachira for your info. Keep in touch”  

“Of course. Good luck on the World Cup qualifiers.”  

They both thank you for that before you turn and depart with whatever left of your dignity.  

__  

You check your phone on the way back to his place, seeing your notifications in shambles. Fifty messages total, some from family and most from friends congratulating you. You ignore all of them for now, especially the ones from your brother - not willing to know what they say.  

In your despair, you don’t notice the new pair of shoes when you open the unlocked door of Bachira’s childhood home either.  

“Oh!” Yu-sans voice is just as welcoming as it always is as you stare at her in the doorway awe-struck. She smiles at you incredibly knowingly as a new wave of mortification sinks in. “You’re back. Meguru is in the shower.”  

“Ah,”  

She gives you a long grin, letting the silence settle first before breaking out into laughter so loud it startles you. You can feel your body grow hot with shame, wishing the world would open from the ground up and swallow you.  

“You know I always thought something like this would happen eventually,” She hums, prepping the flowers you bought last night for a vase. “I’m grateful it happened when you were both adults at least.”  

“Yu-obasan..”  

“Oh don’t be so cold. Yu-san is fine. Or maybe kaa-san now that you’re both together.” She hums. “Anything but oba-san is fine. Makes me feel old. You know that.”  

You make an embarrassed face, sighing as you set your things down at the couch. You wanted to do stuff like this in order. Though you never really imagined you and Bachira together, you always thought for a serious relationship you’d have more of yourself together.  

“Uh,” You flush as you sit at the counter. Yu-san gives you a small smile, head tilted to one side as she arranges the flowers you’ve bought her. “It’s late to do this, but uhm… thank you for giving birth to Meguru and for taking care of me as if I were your own child all this time.” You feel your ears turn hot as you say the rest. “I promise to take good care of Meguru and you for as long as I live, any way I can and I hope you can accept our relationship and give us your blessing.”  

You pause, afraid to look up for a minute until the silence stretches on for a touch too long. When you look up, she’s smiling. Grinning. Meguru looks so much like her. Her laughter bubbles through the room airily like champagne.  

She comes around to hug you tight, startling you from where you sit, her hand on your head. “Asking my blessing… I don’t know how my Meguru got so lucky to find such a responsible kid. Of course you have it. As if you need to ask. Please do take good care of him and yourself. This is your home too, okay?” 

You smile before being startled by another familiar voice. “Uwah, I go shower and you’re having a hug without me.”  

“Come join us then!”  

“Yay! Group hug!” 

Bachira hollers as he squeezes you and his mom in a hug, suffocating you. It’s incredibly embarrassing so in some ways it feels incredibly familiar. They’re really too similar some times.  

When they pull away, Yu-san plays a motherly kiss to both your face and Bachira’s. “I’m going to go put these up in my room and hang out in the studio for a bit. You two should have a date, alright? It’s rare you have time like this.”  

“’Kay,” Bachira says, watching her walk up stairs before shouting. “Love you!”  

“Love you too!”  

You watch her disappear up the steps before seeing Bachira again sobered.  He smiles at you lovingly, but you pout - suddenly remembering this morning.  

“Ehhh?? Why are you making that face? Shouldn’t we be super lovey-dovey right now?”  

“The picture you posted,” You say, tugging at his shirt with your head down. “That’s too sudden. You’re a big athlete now, and—“ 

“So? There’s no one for me but you. I don’t care who knows. I want everyone in the entire world to know even though I don’t want them to actually see you.” He murmurs, crowding into your space. “I want everyone to know you’re mine. Don’t be mad, okay?”  

“I spoil you too much,” You say, because it’s true and it’s enough to make you not mad at all.  

He kisses you then. He tastes like the fruity toothpaste kids use and home when he does pulling back with a warm smile. You feel flush but keep your eyes on his face.  

“It’s the first time we’ve kissed just to kiss,” You hum. He smiles mischievously.  

“The second time, silly.”  

When the realization dawns on you, you gasp - smacking his chest in shock in dismay.  

You thought he blacked out for that kiss when you were seventeen! Bachira breaks out into giggles above you.  

“Meguru!” You exclaim, feeling huffy as he pulls you into his arms and begs for forgiveness. 

Meguru. Homesickness makes you ache, his name in your mouth the only remedy.  

Meguru. Your one and only.  

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: friends(?) to lovers, one sided pining (kinda), a lil angsty, smut, f reader, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

pairing: joshua x reader

wc: 3369

masterlist

you had first met joshua a few months ago when jeonghan walked him up to your established meeting place in the university's cafeteria. it was a common thing for him to bring strays (as he liked to call them) upon befriending them with his very particular and friendly personality. joshua had been the latest addition; an overly pretty boy with the manners of an angel and with a humour similar to that of jeonghan's, making them the perfect pair.

despite now having been in the same friend group for a few months, joshua never really seemed to like you much. he's never made it overtly obvious, nor has he ever said anything mean (at least to your face), but has still made it clear with his lack of interest towards you in comparison to how friendly and invested he's always been with everyone else in the group.

you, on the other hand, had always taken a special interest to the pretty guy jeonghan decided to introduce to your friend group a few months ago. you'd always tried to make friendly conversation with him, always asking him for his opinion on things and trying to make him feel as included as possible. your efforts always seemed to be fruitless, however, as he would often give you monosyllabic answers or straight up ignore you in order to talk to someone else in the group. you never understood the root of his attitude, but you also never let his attitude deter you, having a bit of a crush on the guy, and thus never wanting to give up hope.

you hoped that as his birthday approached you'd be able to find some one-on-one time to give him his gift (a guitar, which yes, might be a little too much for a guy who clearly doesnt like you, but enough for a conversation-starter), and maybe have a chance to talk to him a little bit.

when the day finally arrived, you knew jeonghan would go all out with the party he prepared for his friend, as he always did. so, you dressed up prettily for joshua, wanting to finally have some of his (positive) attention after feeling ostracized by him in your own friend group. you mightve been slightly over dressed, but who was gonna beat your ass over it anyway?

showing up as soon as possible, you knocked the door to jeonghan's and a few of your other friends' shared house, being welcomed in by the owner himself. he chuckled as soon as he saw you, eyeing you up and down, "is that for joshua?", he smirked, taking notice of your dress and fully glammed face.

"shut up. its a party, of course i'm dressing up for a party," you knew it was a dumb excuse, having attended multiple of jeonghan's parties before in less favorable outfits, but you were NOT going to be bullied out of getting joshua's attention dick tonight.

you pushed past him, bumping his shoulder jokingly before entering the buzzing party, going straight to looking for the man of the hour, dropping your gift off with the rest of the pile. it wasnt until half an hour into your arrival (and two drinks later) that you had found joshua. he had his hair slicked back and was wearing a button up that made him look irresistible. his attention was occupied by hoshi and mingyu, who seemed to be challenging him to take some shots.

well, there was no time like the present, you thought before decidedly marching his way.

mingyu's eyes widened at your presence, "holy shit, __. you look amazing. whats with the dress?", well shit. you guess maybe you did overdress a bit.

"shut up, i always dress like this," you lie roll your eyes in response, not fully minding your friend. "hey, josh, i was wondering if-"

"uh wait, i gotta go say hi to some people," he interrupted you distractedly before bolting away almost immediately.

your friends, well aware of your crush, couldnt help but feel sad to see how easily joshua dismissed you any time you approached him. even as you had showed up to his party dressed to the nines and with a thoughtful gift, "listen, __, you shouldnt take it to heart. he's just a stoic guy," mingyu tries to reason as soonyoung nods while pouring himself another drink.

after regretfully indulging in the impromptu pity party, you attempted to find josh again only to be met with the same outcome. this continued to happen a few more times through the night. you'd arrive to whichever part of the house joshua was at, only to be met with his instant departure, which was clearly caused by your mere presence. disheartened didnt begin to describe how you felt. you'd done everything thus far to fix whatever had destroyed your friendship with joshua before it had even started, but josh wouldnt even give you the time of day.

you were finally able to catch him alone just as you were giving up on your plan for the night. you had said goodbye to a few friends and prepared to leave with your tail between your legs when you caught a glimpse of joshua stepping into what you assumed to he his room. alone. like any irrational person, you sneakily walked towards the door and opened it, stepping in as quiet as possible, closing it behind you.

upon hearing the sound of the door, joshua turned around, tilting his head in confusion at you, "what are you doing in my room?"

"uhh," okay you didnt think this through. but hey! now you had him alone!

"can you get out? i have to change my shirt. mingyu spilled beer on this one," he sighs, muttering the longest sentence he had ever spoken to you, his back to you as he unbuttoned his shirt.

you stood there, only thinking about how you were buzzed and in a room alone with an almost shirtless joshua. in a movie this wouldve been the perfect time to-

"listen. i dont want to be rude. but you have to stop doing this. i dont know how else to get you to take a hint," he halted his unbuttoning as he turned towards you upon realizing you had not left the room like he'd asked.

..

"what?"

"i get that we're in the same friend group or whatever, but that doesnt mean we have to be friends. ive tried to keep my distance but it doesnt seem to work."

oh.

you had thought he was just indifferent and maybe slighting uncomfortable towards you, but it seemed like there was something deeper behind the way he constantly avoided you.

"i ... is there something i did to offend you?"

"does there have to be?"

"i-i mean, yeah?", well, since your hopes with joshua were already fucked, there was no point in holding back with any questions, "its customary to have a reason to hate someone."

"hate? who said hate? i dont hate you," he dared to draw shock onto his face at the mention of the word, "and either way, its not important."

you were beginning to get peeved off at his carelessness about the issue. and you were also still buzzed from the extra drinks mingyu and hoshi had fed you when comforting you earlier, so you decided to just give it to him.

"joshua. i dont know what type of shitty communication issues you may have grown up with, but some petty one-sided beef with me is not a valid reason to ostracize me from a friend group i was part of first. you ignore me, you roll your eyes at me, you know that i like you and you just dont care to consider my feelings even a little bit by showing the tiniest ounce of politeness towards me. you let me embarrass myself over and over again by blatantly rejecting any type of interaction regardless of how innocent it may be. whatever it is that i did, just fucking say it so we can move on and i can salvage my dignity at least a little bit," you felt a weight off your chest, finally admitting both to yourself and to joshua how his repeated rejection has continued to hurt you since you first met him a few months ago.

"you dont even remember, do you?"

what?

"remember what?"

he scoffs, taking a seat on the side of his bed, looking up at you, "you don't remember knowing me in high school?"

what??

you had gone to high school in a different country. you were pretty sure none of your friends even remembered what school you went to prior to university.

"we went to the same high school. we knew each other back then. you really dont remember?"

"i-what? joshua, we've never met before jeonghan introduced us?"

"yeah, thats not true. you knew me. pretty well, actually. or well, i guess the other way around," he chuckled sadly, taking a pause, "i used to have a huge crush on you in high school. we sat next to each other in biology, and you'd ask to copy my notes almost every day. we were friends. or at least i liked to think so," he paused, "that is, until you got a boyfriend. liam? i think?"

well, that part checked out. you did date your high school crush for a few months in junior year.

"after that," he continued, "you pretty much just cut me off. you started ignoring me when i said hi in the hallways, partnered with someone else for bio, moved your locker away from mine ..." he took a pause, sighing as he looked down, "... laughed in my face when i asked you to junior prom even though i knew you had a boyfriend..."

oh. everything he was saying checked out as true. he suddenly reminded you of that phase in high school were you had turned into a bit of a mean girl upon scoring the quarterback at school, but joshua wasnt there for any of this, that was jisoo, the nerdy foreign exchange student who- OH.

"you're jisoo?!"

"yeah," chuckling with no real emotion behind it, "i stopped going by that when i moved back to korea. i felt like an idiot crushing on the only girl who was nice to me in high school and getting brutally rejected in front of everyone, so i cut my stay short and tried to start brand new back in korea."

jesus christ.

you had always regretted the last interaction you'd had with jisoo, feeling so ashamed you removed it from your memory, scolding yourself every time it came back to you. you knew jisoo had ended up moving away before senior year, but you hadnt known you were one of the reasons for it. you'd never felt shittier than at this moment.

speechless, you took a seat on the bed next to him, unable to meet his eyes.

"joshua, i'm so so-"

"dont. its fine. i dont know why ive held onto that grudge for so long. its been so many years."

"so you recognized me when jeonghan introduced us? oh my god, does jeonghan know? do any of them?!", you hadnt thought about how your friends would feel about this til now.

"yes. and no. i recognized you immediately, but i still felt so embarrassed after what happened i thought i should just pretend i didnt. but i was still mad, specially knowing you did that to me but didnt even remember," although his words hurt you, he didnt sound angry, but moreso solemn.

"joshua. fuck. i know you dont wanna hear this, but i'm so sorry. i always regretted what i did. you didnt deserve that. you were always so nice to me and i let popularity and my ex's stupid clique get to me. i was young and an idiot. i know thats not a good excuse, but i hope you know i've never forgotten about you. you just look so different, i'm sorry i didnt realize you were jisoo earlier," as you spoke, you got up and neared the door, turning to look at him one last time as you swallowed back tears at your shame, "i understand if you hate me. you can tell the guys the truth. they think you hate me for no reason, but they deserve to know what really happened."

you were about to leave when he spoke up again, causing you to look back at his figure that was now standing in front of you.

"i already told you. i dont hate you. its so .. i hate that i dont hate you. i didnt want to lose the first group of friends i ever made, so i thought i could just put up with it and stay as far as way from you as possible. but i still couldnt stop thinking about you."

you had nothing to say. there was nothing you could possibly say at him hitting you with one shocking statement after the other.

"its funny, isnt it?", he chuckled bitterly at himself, "i still like you even after all this."

"joshua-"

"did you ever like me? as jisoo, i mean. was .. what do you like about me that i didnt have as jisoo?", his gaze was now facing the floor due to the vulnerability of the situation, unable to meet your eyes

you could tell joshua was beginning to feel emotional, his speech appearing to be taking a turn to a self-deprecating expression of his old self.

despite knowing you might get rejected once more, you stepped towards him, putting your hands on his cheeks and forcing him to look at you.

"nothing. jisoo. you were as perfect then as you are now. i hate that i ever did this to you. dont let the stupid actions of a teenage girl make you think you were ever anything less than you are. i hope one day you'll forgi-"

that's as far as you were able to get before joshua suddenly closed the space between you with a kiss.

with eyes closed and furrowed brows, joshua put everything in himself into that kiss, expressing every pent up emotion he had felt towards you in the past years.

unable to help yourself, you grabbed onto his hair, pulling him as close as humanly possible and moaning loudly into the kiss as he tilted his head for a better angle. upon opening your mouth, he stuck his tongue inside, playing with yours and moving his hands down to your waist in order to push you as close as possible to him.

it continued on like this until you found yourself laying on his bed, him on top of you holding your hands over your head and exploring your mouth as he saw fit.

he pulled away suddenly, ripping off his beer-stained shirt as you caught on and pulled off the pretty red dress you had worn to catch his attention. he immediately ran his hands over your figure, excited to finally have the girl he had been crazy over in high school. the same one he had unknowingly pined after all these years.

he stripped off of his pants and ripped off your bra. gluing his mouth to your breasts as you whined his name, "jisoo. oh fuck jisoo, please," you couldnt help using his old name, feeling an even deeper emotional connection now that you knew joshua was the sweet boy who looked after you in high school.

taking his mouth away from your tits, joshua pulled himself off of you and got on his knees next to the bed, pulling you towards him by your thighs. he kissed and licked at your thighs, savoring the taste and smell of you.

"tell me," he demanded, staring up at you in a daze, "tell me how much you want me."

"j-jisoo. so bad. please, so bad."

"more," he kitten licked at you through your panties, making you whine and tense your thighs.

"jisoo, please. want you so bad. i'll do anything. just .. just touch me please!"

he dragged your panties down your thighs, pressing them to his nose like a deprived pervert and taking a breathy whiff at them, moaning at your scent.

"jisoo ..." you moaned at the depravity of the act, having never had someone express such nasty want towards you.

"fuck. so tasty. always wanted to know how pretty you smelled, baby. bet you taste even better," and with that he began going at your cunt like a mad man, burying his face between your legs and moaning whenever you'd grind on his face in desperation.

"jisoo! oh fuck, jisoo. dont stop fuck, please. i'm gonna cum- argh, shit."

your incessant moans and cries had him going crazy, wanting nothing more than to prove to you what you'd been missing all these years.

as soon as you came, joshua got up and discarded his boxers, grabbing a condom from his nightside table and climbing on top of you again, ready to enter you before you spoke up.

"wait."

"whats wrong?", he furrowed his brows worriedly

"i wanna ride you. can i?"

with no verbal response, he flipped you over, moaning at the pressure of your naked core pressed up against his dick, feeling as if his heartbeat had migrated to his nether area.

"jisoo ..." you said in an exaggerated moan as you began to grind on him, scratching up and down his chest, "wanna make it up to you," you breathed, lowering your face to his, "wanna show you how much i like you. how much i want you. how perfect you are and the things you do to me," you licked his lips as you said this, causing him to open his mouth for you, allowing your tongues to meld together in a mess of spit and open-mouthed moans.

you finally took the initiative of lowering yourself onto him, cringing at the intrusion at first but then finding the pleasure behind it. the stretch drove you crazy, making you throw your head back and move your hands to your nipples, rubbing them as you ground yourself back and forth atop joshua.

joshua couldnt believe his view. the girl he had fantasized about since high school. the girl who broke his heart and made him spiral into finding a new sense of self. the girl that took his breath away as soon as he found her again. the girl he tried to punish but was actually punishing himself. the girl that walked into his party and made him lose his mind all over again. the girl who has now making him lose all sense of reality as she rode him desperately trying to prove to him how his feelings were finally mutual.

it was easy for the both of you to find your ends with one another, having had pent up emotions for so long, your bodies were unable to hold back for too long.

you screamed his name as he began to thrust up, unwilling to let himself cum before you, "baby, give it to me again. show me how much you want me. fuck, give-give me what ive wanted all these years."

with that, you came, with him following closely after, finding nirvana almost simultaneously.

joshua made sure to take care of you. he cleaned you up and laid you down under his covers as he wrapped his himself around you, content to hold you in his arms after finally having you in the most intimate of ways. joshua felt love in this moment. he might have struggled through the issues that arose inside him after that fated day, but he felt a sense of contentment knowing his anger was misplaced, and that what he truly wanted all these years was just you.

"jisoo ..." you interrupted his thoughts once more, turning in his arms to face him. you rose your hand towards his cheek, caressing it softly, "icare about you. i hope you do know how much you mean to me. then and now."

he smiled at this, happy you understood and accepted his feelings. "i want to put it all behind us. you hurt me. i hurt you. but now i have you. it was all worth it if this is how it ended."

"happy birthday, jisoo. thank you for the new start."

a/n: i did proofread it this time but idk if it makes sense .. anyways hope u enjoy <3

[mrdixon]

Work in Progress

pairing: pre-negan Alexandria Daryl x f!reader

wc: 8.1k (sorry.)

warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, p-in-v, fingering, oral (fem. receiving), alcohol (sober sex.), mild swearing, some fluff,,,

summary: Your friends peer pressure you into asking Daryl out to the cookout that's taking place tonight.

A/N: this is like my first ever smut officially written and OH MY GOD im so sorry if its terrible i was cringing at some parts. sooooo cliche but i promise ill be better. i realize reading this back that so many of them are slightly out of character but ignore it, i was drunk writing half of this. i also never intended this to be that long and i freaked out reading the word count so. anyways i hope you enjoy and feel free to request anything more!! id be happy to write more for you all.

masterlist!

“I’m telling you, he likes you.” You roll your eyes from your spot at your desk after hearing Maggie’s comment, continuing to focus on your work rather than the idiotic conversation taking place.

“How and why would Daryl like me?” You ask and look up at your three friends Maggie, Carol, and Rosita. It’s like you can pinpoint the exact moment they all mentally facepalm at your question, “I’m just saying.” You mutter under your breath, looking back down at the plans for the reinforcement of Alexandria’s walls. The silence was too loud but you could tell the three of them were all glancing at each other while trying to figure out what to say to you.

“Well for starters, he visits you a lot.” Carol tried to reason, earning a scoff from you. “No I’m serious, he doesn’t even stay home that often. That prick has only stayed for food recently.” The corner of your mouth curls up slightly at her comment, still looking down at your notes.

“Plus he smiles a lot around you, I’ve never seen him smile that hard before… Let alone at all.” Rosita adds. You sigh, finally looking up at your friends and immediately getting startled by all of them looking towards you. You think about what Rosita said and contemplate it for a moment, well he has been hanging around you recently…

“Nope, no way.” They all audibly groan as they turn away from you, “besides. I don’t even like him like that.” Now that earns a scoff from them.

“Oh please. You can hardly keep eye contact with him, let alone speak coherent sentences when he’s around.” Carol retorts, tending to the carnations in a vase in the corner of your study room. You scoff again at the exaggerated example whilst shaking your head.

“Uh uh, I can keep eye contact with him. In fact I have no problem interacting with him because he’s just a friend.” You state bluntly before getting up and putting your notes into a folder behind your seat.

“Oh my god hey Daryl!” Rosita calls out, causing you to quickly fix your hair and spin around with a bright smile on your face. All just to slouch back down onto your chair once you realize it was just to catch you off guard. The three of them laugh silently to themselves while muttering a “we told you so” in unison.

“Fine. I guess I do like him but that does not mean I’m going to do anything about it.” You look down at your lap, hearing clothes shuffling from how quickly they all snap their heads in your direction.

“Why the hell not?” Maggie exclaims, “you know it’s nice. Being in a relationship, plus you guys complement each other well.

You sigh as you spin around in your chair, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “Well… Even if he does like me, I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Bullshit.” Carol says bluntly before walking up to you, “just ask him out. He won’t say no.” You roll your eyes and spin away from her, staring at your wall.

Rosita spins the chair around back so you can face them, “Carol’s right. Daryl has been pining you for like months, maybe even years now.”

“How am I even supposed to ask him out? Like should I ask him to hang out like usual and pop the question or should I ask him to dinner?” You nibble at the end of your finger anxiously, even considering asking him out is terrifying.

“Oh! You should ask him out to the cookout tonight, it’ll be perfect.” Maggie grabs your hands excitedly, flashing her bright smile at you.

“Oh god no I’m not going.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Rosita grabs your hands, forcing you to look at her. You can tell she has an idea, one you won’t like.

“You are going. No questions asked, no objections. And you will ask him out.” You bite your bottom lip, “c’mon…. If you’re lucky you’ll get laid-” Maggie’s hand flies over Rosita’s mouth to stop her but the statement was already heard.

“I’m not going to fuck him on the first date!” You exclaim, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“It’s a date!” Maggie yells, Rosita says the same but muffled from Maggie’s hand over her mouth. You shake your head profusely, waving your hands around as you panic, not wanting to admit asking him out.

The door opens suddenly, all four of your heads snapping towards the door. A very confused Daryl pokes his head in, furrowing his brows at the scene. “Am I interrupting?”

Carol grabs Maggie and Rosita, dragging them towards the door. “Nope, in fact (Y/N) has something to ask you so we’ll leave you to it.” Carol grins “unsuspiciously” at him whilst dragging the other two out. Rosita mouths a “we’ll come back later” while exiting the room, Maggie giving a thumbs up. You groan, putting your head in your hands as you run your fingers through your hair.

You can hear heavy footsteps walk towards you, the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your desk before that familiar gruff voice speaks. “What was it that you wanted to ask?”

You lift your head to look at Daryl, your heart jumping at the close proximity you two were in. For a moment you contemplate whether to bail on the question or just go for it. You clear your throat, sitting up and crossing your arms, “are you going to the cookout tonight?” Quickly looking away in embarrassment. Nothing even happened yet.

He grunts, shifting in his seat. “Was just gonna go fer a little bit, don’ really feel like stickin’ around.” You nod slowly, muttering a mutual statement.

“Wanna go together?” You look up once more, mentally cringing and hitting yourself. For a moment you could swear his eyes lit up, he nibbled the inside of his bottom lip. A habit of his which you silently found endearing.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.” He grumbles, looking to the side. His hair falling over his face, you had an urge to reach up and brush it away but you held back, not wanting to be too bold. You hum silently, awkwardly shifting away from him in your seat.

“Oh, why’d you come here? Did you need something?” You look over at him, realizing he came here on his own free will. He clears his throat, brushing his bangs out of his face with his hand as he looks at you. Reaching into his pocket and handing you a little fox figurine, he had a slight smile on his face as he handed it to you.

You giggled, inspecting it as you held it in your hands. Unbeknownst to you, he was staring at you. Looking at your features and studying them, if someone walked in it would look as if he were a painter and you were his subject. “I jus’ found it on a run earlier, thought ‘cha might like it.” He murmured sheepishly, playing with his fingers.

You looked towards him, smiling at him with those eyes that made his heart skip a beat every time you even glanced in his direction. “I do like it, thanks Daryl.” You placed the figurine on your desk, next to a picture frame of you and the group. Daryl suddenly stood up, looking down at you softly before turning towards the door.

“I’ll pick ya up later tonight then?” He smiled slightly and you nodded, waving to him as he left. Once the door shut you spun around in your chair, your face heating up as you just processed everything that just happened. But now you were left to dread about the upcoming cookout in a few hours.

“No, not happening.” You crossed your arms at the dress presented to you by Rosita and Maggie. It was a very flattering dress for sure, it was a deep red colour, the length ended just above mid thigh, and the neckline was pretty low. It was something you probably wouldn’t ever wear, even pre-apocalypse. “Sorry Rosita but your style just doesn’t fit me. If anything, I’d like to try one of Maggie's dresses.” You shrug and Maggie stifles a laugh.

“Hun this is my dress.” She smirks at you while you frown, “farmer’s daughter can be pretty outrageous too y’know.” Rosita laughs, tossing the dress at you.

“At least try it on, just humour us.” Rosita mockingly pleads with you. Rolling your eyes you walk towards the bathroom with the dress in hand, hearing a quiet cheer from the both of them as you shut the door.

You stare down at the garment in your hands, trying it on couldn’t hurt… Right? You sigh, taking off your shirt and shorts before slipping the dress on. You audibly gasp at your reflection in the mirror, a hand going over your mouth. The dress hugged your body perfectly, it wasn’t tight but it fit in all the right places. You looked hot.

“Everything alright?” Maggie knocked on the door. You rushed over to the door, opening it.

“Dude…” You mutter in disbelief as you show yourself off to them. Maggie clasped her hands together laughing.

“Girl. If I wasn’t helping you get with Daryl I’d be all over you right now.” Rosita smirks, looking you up and down as you smack her shoulder playfully.

“Well are you gonna wear it or not? I think you should, if you have Rosita thirsting over you then imagine how Daryl is going to react when he picks you up like this.” Maggie giggles, fixing the back of your dress.

You bite your lip in thought, “I don’t know….” Rosita almost slaps you with how fast she turns around to grab you.

“Why not!? You look so fucking hot right now and I swear to god Daryl will think the same.” You laugh slightly at Rosita’s shock, Maggie murmuring agreement with her.

You let out a breath, shaking your head as you turn to the mirror. Fixing your hair a bit and brushing over the dress, a small smiling tugging at your lips as you nod. “Okay fine I’ll wear it, but only because I want to. Not because I want to impress Daryl.” Maggie rolls her eyes playfully as Rosita jumps up clapping.

“Okay well don’t let us bother you, and have fun tonight.” Maggie giggles, taking Rosita to leave, “not too much fun.” She jokes while winking and leaving the room causing you to shoot a glare at her as the door closes behind them.

You go to grab some small heels which surprisingly matches the colour of the dress and quickly look yourself over. Fixing your hair properly this time. Now all that’s left is to wait for Daryl to come pick you up… You take a deep breath, muttering a small affirmation before exiting your room and going downstairs to wait for Daryl.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting, a familiar three beat knock shatters your thoughts. Immediately standing up and walking over to the door, taking yet another deep breath before opening the door.

There he was. Daryl was standing there dressed in his normal attire but neater. His eyes widened at the sight of you, discreetly looking you up and down. A small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips before averting his gaze after a moment, causing you to blush and look down at your feet.

“You look… great.” He breathes out, a small smile playing at your lips as you mumble a small thank you. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, not noticing the way his eyes sparkled as he looked down at you. He cleared his throat, moving to the side to let you exit your house, “well let’s get going then.”

You guys started walking towards the middle of Alexandria where the cookout was being held, you felt a bit nervous for tonight as you were worried about fucking everything up. You glanced up at Daryl who had a slight smile playing at his lips, you sighed softly as you looked back down. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

You two walked in silence, the air was tense. Neither of you said anything before you got to the cookout. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you saw Carol cooking up some rabbit stew by one of the picnic tables. “I’ll be right back.” You muttered to Daryl, giving him a pat on the shoulder before darting towards Carol. Daryl stared after you for a moment, a slight frown on his face when you left him.

Carol shook when you approached her from behind and smacked a hand on her shoulder, placing down a large pot of soup as she looked at you with furrowed brows. “Don’t do that, I could’ve dropped that and I bet a lot of people here would be very mad at you for destroying everyone’s favourite rabbit stew in town….” You rolled your eyes, turning your head to find Daryl before nodding your head over to him. Carol narrowed her eyes confused as she looked at you, “you got a neck problem or something?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you muttered to her. “Daryl’s over there.” Her eyes lit up before immediately smacking you on the head, causing you to yelp and hit her back.

“What are you doing here with me? Go talk to him you idiot.” She grinned, taking a wooden spoon and stirring the pot of soup. Before you could argue she pushed you away, “go, I’m busy anyway.” She giggled as you glared at her, taking a deep breath and turning to walk in Daryl’s direction. He was over by the drink table, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and taking a sip. Your eyes traveled down to his throat in which his adam’s apple bobbed when swallowing the liquid, his bicep flexing when he moved his arm. You immediately shook your head to escape those thoughts and looked around to make sure no one was watching you practically drooling over him.

You took a deep breath before approaching him, a soft smile on your face as you looked up at him. He glanced down at you, his usual tough demeanour faltering and he flashed you a quick smile. “You wan’ a drink?” He offered, gesturing to the table. Your gaze moved towards the table, scanning over it before eyeing the bottle of red wine. He immediately followed, picking up a glass and pouring some for you. He shyly handed you the glass before taking your hand and dragging you along with him. The contact of his hand holding yours was enough to make your knees shake, looking at the back of his head as he led you through the crowd.

He finally let go of your hand once you guys got to a more secluded spot of the area, he took a seat by the tree nearby. You quickly followed suit, making sure to hold your dress down as you went to sit beside him, once you sat you took a sip of your wine to calm your nerves. He slowly shifted closer to you, taking his vest off and placing it over your lap which made you look up at him.

“Don’ wan’ anyone to look up yer skirt.” He mumbled, sitting back against the tree and taking a swig of his whiskey. You blushed, hiding your face by drinking some more of your wine. He noticed and chuckled a bit, tucking your hair behind your ear. He immediately retracted his hand, “sorry.”

You shook your head giggling as he watched you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s fine.”

“You really are pretty tonight.” He mumbled, clearing his throat as he looked you over again. You chuckle, placing your hand on his knee.

“Thanks, you look good too y’know. Clean.” He snorts at your statement, hiding a grin behind his glass. You try to grab his head and turn him to you, the both of you giggling as you quickly discard your glass of wine, the substance seeping into the ground beneath you.

“Stop hiding… You’re so cute when you smile.” You blurt out, causing Daryl to pause for a moment before scoffing and shaking his head. You were glad you drank, the alcohol probably aiding you with even looking at him. “You are.” You insisted, brushing his bangs out of his face.

He pulls back which makes your brows furrow together, worried that you may have made him uncomfortable. “Don’ say things like tha’.” He murmurs, only fueling your confusion.

You tilted your head to try and read his expression, but like always you couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking. He was hiding behind his hair again, you tried to reach up to brush it away. To look into those piercing blue eyes you grew to love but he backed away. “Stop, ya shouldn’. We shouldn’t.” He said gruffly. You frowned, moving closer to him.

“What do you mean?” You asked quietly, a twinge of hope in your tone as you placed a hand on his knee. He shifted away and cleared his throat, running his fingers through his hair.

“We shouldn’ do things or say stuff we don’ mean.” Your heart broke at his sentence. Maybe you were right, he didn’t like you like that. You moved away slightly, a gap in between the both of you as you sat in silence. You played with your fingers, a lump in your throat as you realized you probably made him uncomfortable. You beat yourself up mentally for being too bold with him, thinking about how you should’ve just stayed home tonight.

He glanced at you, nibbling the inside of his bottom lip before grunting, moving closer to you before speaking softly. “What I mean is, I don’t wanna do somethin’ you don’ want an’ scare ya off.” You looked at him, tilting your head as you bite the edge of your thumb.

You took a deep breath as you processed his words, still looking up at him as you narrowed your eyes questioningly. “I like ya, (Y/N).” He mumbled, scratching the back of his head as he again, shifted away from you. You said nothing for awhile which only piqued Daryl’s anxiety, making him wonder if you even heard him.

“I like you too.” You physically cringed hearing the words come out of your mouth, feeling like you were in middle school again. He chuckled, leaning back against the tree and staring up at the purple sky. You looked at him for a moment, the soft summer breeze was blowing his hair gently and causing it to occasionally fly into his eyes, giggling when he grunted about it. You also leaned against the tree, your head turned towards him the entire time as you stared at him with eyes he never thought would be directed towards him. He turned his head to look back at you, a soft smile playing at his lips before he opening his mouth to speak.

“Wanna get outta here?” Once you nodded he smiled, standing up and offering his hand which you gratefully accepted. He took his vest back and wrapped it around your shoulders to keep you warm which didn’t really help due to there being no sleeves, but the feeling of his affection did. You interlocked your fingers together with his as he led you through the crowd for the last time tonight, his heart skipped a beat when you initiated the hand holding and he felt a warm feeling in his chest. One he never knew he’d get to experience.

He eventually brought you over to his house in which he shared with Carol, letting you enter first as he came in behind you. His large hand lingering over the small of your back while you took off his vest, mumbling gratitude as you handed it back to him. He chuckled, placing the vest on the couch as he took a seat, gesturing for you to join him.

“Carol won’t be home ‘til late tonigh’, reckon it’s gotta do with the cookout.” He grumbled, watching you sit down. He took time to watch you, noticing the way more of your thighs were exposed when your dress rode up. He quickly averted his gaze, biting his bottom lip as he rubbed the scruff on his chin. You just nodded, silently leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder.

He laughed silently, “yer awfully quiet tonight. Why’d the sudden confession change the way you act aroun’ me?” You slapped his chest gently, hearing a quiet “there it is” from him as you lifted your head up.

“It’s just… different. I guess it’s just me seeing you in a different way, officially.” He snorted, glancing over at you. His eyes caught a glimpse of the low cut neckline of your dress, your cleavage practically flaunting in his face. His head shot up towards the ceiling, a gruff chuckle escaping him.

“What kinda way you see me before?” He grunts as he mocks your words slightly, you shake your head and placed your head against his shoulder once more.

“Never wanted to admit my feelings for you, not even to myself. I always just thought you saw me as a friend and nothing more.” You mumbled, absentmindedly tracing shapes into the back of his hand with your finger. He smiled at the gesture before looking up in thought.

“It was the same fer me.” He rubbed over his face with his left hand, “if you didn’ ask me out today I probably never would’ve.” You hummed softly in acknowledgement, silently happy you were literally peer pressured into asking him out.

His hand grasped yours, rubbing circles into your hand with his thumb, sighing softly. “I’d probably still be sneaking glances at you. Who am I kiddin’ I’ll probably still do that.” He chuckled softly as you grinned stupidly. His heart swelled at your smile. Wanting to see more of it he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it gently while you giggled at his stubble scratching against it. “I love the way you sound.” He added softly, looking at you with eyes you never knew was possible for him to make. This Daryl was way different from the one you met all those years back at the quarry, you weren’t complaining. You just hoped you’d be the only person he looked at this way.

You both sat in silence as you stared at each other, gradually leaning closer. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed against yours. The way his lips felt against yours was perfect, better than any pair of lips that fell upon your own. The kiss went on for awhile, it was soft, innocent. His hand moved to your cheek, tilting your head as he tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue prodding at your lips for entrance. You gratefully granted it and his tongue slipped into your mouth, the faint taste of whiskey and tobacco lingering on his tongue. You hummed into the kiss and felt his breath hitch from the vibration, reluctantly you both pulled back for air, your foreheads pressed together.

“Daryl… can we go to your room?” You broke the silence, feeling his hot breath against your face. He stroked your hair and pulled back with his brows furrowed.

“Ya sure…? I don’ wanna do anything you don’ want to do.” He was serious, looking into your eyes. Once you nodded he hesitantly grabbed your hand and gently guided you towards the basement where he claimed his bedroom. His hand no longer lingered on the small of your back, now fully pressing against it as he held your hand with his free one, guiding you down the stairs and into his bedroom.

He closed the door behind him, turning back to you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips. He let out a shocked noise which you found cute, his arms wrapped around your waist as he kissed you back. The kiss quickly deepened, your tongues moving together in a sensual dance as he backed you up towards his bed, gently placing you down.

He pulled back, sitting next to you. You immediately sat up to try and kiss him again but he stopped you, “(Y/N), you drank earlier. ‘m not gonna do anythin’ if yer drunk, ya know that.”

You shook your head, moving closer. “I had two sips, barely enough to get me drunk. And I know I want this, especially with you. Only you Daryl.” You whispered, noticing the way his breathing became shallow as you moved closer.

“Ya sure? (Y/N), I need you to be absolutely sure. I—I don’ wanna hurt ya.” He nibbled his bottom lip anxiously. You placed a hand on his chest, your eyes clouded with desire, feeling the way his heart beat faster. He watched as you lowered your head towards his neck, kissing and licking the skin there, closing your eyes as he groaned quietly.

“I’m sure.” You whispered against his skin and caused him to shiver before he took you by the shoulders, pushing you onto the bed. No further words were needed as he started kissing your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin. You shook underneath him as small pleas escaped your lips.

He growled quietly, nibbling you and leaving small bites on your neck, searching for one spot. You let out a louder than intended moan, there it is. There was one thing about Daryl, he was good at finding things. He continued to kiss and suck on the soft spot of your neck, quiet noises left your mouth almost pathetically as you fell apart underneath him. He pulled back to look at you, his breath hitching as he saw the state you were in. Your face was flushed, eyes closed, and your lips were parted. Red and swollen from your previous making out. You whined softly, raising your hands to try and feel him again. He swallowed hard. He barely even touched you and yet you were so… so needy.

“Jesus (Y/N)…” He muttered under his breath, lightly tracing over your knees before pushing them apart. Rubbing his chin as he stared down at you, grabbing you by your shoulders, “sit up girl.” He helped you sit up, kissing your lips softly before looking into your eyes once more. His hand moved to your back, playing with the zipper of your dress. He looked up at you for permission, you gave a nod and he smiled softly, kissing your temple before slowly unzipping your dress. He slowly slipped your dress down, kissing your shoulder gently as his left hand rubbed your knee comfortingly.

Soon he pulled your dress off, leaving you in your undergarments. His eyes traced over your body, thinking he’d never live to see this moment. You shivered as the cold air hit your body and he immediately encircled you, his arms moved around your body as he went to press his lips against yours once more.

Your eyes fluttered shut and giggled into the kiss when his stubble tickled you, his hand running through your hair gently. The feeling of his nails scratching your scalp made you shiver excitedly. Gently, his hands moved down your body but they moved with hesitation. It was like he was treating you as if you were fragile and would crumble if he moved too quickly.

“Don’t hold back Daryl…” You whispered, stroking his cheek with your thumb. He nodded, looking back down as his hands moved with more force. He lightly traced over the straps of your bra, playing with the little bits of lace as he moved down to kiss your collarbone. His tongue darting out to lick over to the bra strap, kissing your shoulder before slipping the strap off your shoulder. All while glancing up at you to make sure there were no signs of discomfort, you looked back down at him and smiled softly causing his heart to skip a beat. He pressed another loving kiss to your lips before slipping the other strap off your shoulder, his hands moving behind you to unclasp your bra with ease. He tossed your bra onto the floor, backing up to look at you. After he said nothing you felt a rush of embarrassment, shyly covering your breasts from him.

“No, no, no…” He whispered, taking your hands and moving them to your side, “don’ hide ‘em. Yer beautiful.” He quickly kissed your cheek, then your chin, your neck, and then finally the valley of your breasts. You let out a soft whimper as his lips moved over to your left breast, kissing the flesh gently before parting his lips and placing it over your nipple. A shocked but pleased moan exited your mouth while his left hand moved to massage your other breast, his tongue swirling around. Your eyes fluttered shut when his mouth moved to give your other breast attention, your lips parted and let out soft gasps of pleasure. Your hand moved to the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair and gripping it gently, causing him to grunt against you.

He moved back giving your chest one last kiss before unbuttoning his shirt, you reached up to help him. Hands shaking with anticipation as each button was undone, pushing the shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor. He kissed you intensely, pushing you down onto the bed and pressing a knee in between your legs. Your hands moved to touch his chest, tracing over the scarred skin. He flinched back, suddenly self conscious about the scars all over his back and chest. You knew about his trauma, you were one of the only people he opened up to, but this was your first time seeing it. Noticing his anxiety, you leaned up on your elbows, tracing the scars gently. Pressing your lips against them, feeling his tense body relax under your touch, he let out a deep sigh as you showed affection towards him like this. Closing his eyes as his love for you only grew deeper, never in his life would he have thought someone would creep this deep into his heart.

He pushed you back, his lips finding yours as his hand lingered down over the waistband of your panties. You groaned into his mouth as his fingers slipped under and over to your wet pussy, his breath faltered at how wet you were. How eager you were for him.

“Daryl.” You breathed out when he parted from your mouth, his fingers gently rubbing your clit.

“Mm?” He hummed next to your ear, his middle finger dipping through your slick as he continued to rub your sensitive nub. A choked moan escaped you as he did this, his other hand running his fingers through your hair as he shushed you. “Easy…” You bit your lip as the hand in your hair left to pull your panties down, tossing it onto the floor to join the other clothes.

His fingers left you momentarily as he moved down the bed slowly to look at your glistening pussy. He placed a hand on your thigh, spreading your open further while you looked down at him. Your brows were furrowed in pleasure, lips parted as your breathing came out shallow and ragged. He pushed his index finger past your folds, groaning at how wet you were as he teased your entrance. Your whining was enough to make him twitch in his pants, suddenly realizing how tight his pants felt. He let his index push into your entrance, feeling your tight walls convulse around the digit and hearing a moan escape you. He smirked from his place as he looked up at you, “alrigh’ up there?” Your eyes were shut tight while your brows were pressed together, you let out a shaky breath and nodded. He took your confirmation as a sign to start pumping his finger in and out of you, your legs shaking.

You were kind of embarrassed by how this man had you shaking just by one finger, but it’s been awhile since you’ve last done this with anyone. Plus it was Daryl fucking Dixon… You let out yet another pathetic moan, your hand coming up to cover your noises out of embarrassment. He stopped moving his finger and you whine, looking down at him. He had a frown on his face.

“Don’ cover yer mouth, lemme hear those pretty noises from you darlin’.” He drawled lowly, you whimpered as you slowly lowered your hand and he continued moving his finger. He eventually slipped a second into you, stretching you out. You threw your head back against the bed as you cried out in pleasure. After a moment he removed his fingers, only to replace it with something warm. You gasped out once you realized it was his tongue pressing against your clit.

“D—Daryl…” You stuttered, your fingers finding themselves in his hair. He lapped at your pussy, eating you out as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever eaten in his entire life. Loud moans echoed through his room as you tugged on his hair, lifting your hips to grind against his face. He grunted against you, holding your hips with his large hands as he held you down, slurping up your arousal.

Moans kept spilling out of you as he kept sucking at your clit, feeling a familiar feeling building up in your stomach. You whimpered, pushing his head further down against you. “Fuck Daryl… I’m gonna…” You groaned when he slipped a finger into you again, his tongue still lapping at your clit, “I’m gonna cum.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, the vibrations almost sending you over the edge as another finger pumped into you. The amount of attention he was giving your pussy was overwhelming as his fingers curled inside of you, fingertips just barely brushing over your sweet spot. You mewled, pulling his hair hard as he curled his fingers again, sucking on your clit in the process. He could tell you were close and he pumped and curled his fingers faster, finally hitting that sweet spot inside of you. A loud moan spilling out of your mouth as your head pushed back further into the bed.

“Tha’s it… come fer me..” He mumbled against your clit, sending you over the edge and reaching that climax. Your fluids rushing onto his fingers, which he pulled out. His tongue darting towards your juices and licking it all up. You let out a small whimper as lewd noises of him slurping all your juices up rang through your ears. He licked you clean, lifting his head up and wiping his chin with his forearm, covered in your release. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk as he watched you breathe heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you come down from your high. He licked his fingers clean, rolling his eyes back with a low groan. “So sweet…” He whispered, eliciting a whine from you.

He quickly started unbuckling his belt, needing to free his almost painful erection. You whimpered again, his hands twitching at the noise. “Daryl…” You whispered so desperately you normally would’ve been embarrassed, but the ache between your thighs and the desire for him was too strong for you to even care.

“Shh.. I got ya..” He whispered, moving closer to you as one hand gently caressed your cheek, the other continuing to unbutton his pants. He placed a sweet kiss to your temple while the hand on your cheek moved to push your hair out of your face. “So beautiful.”

He planted another kiss to your head before moving back to shove his pants down, you eyed the bulge in his boxers. You moved to sit up and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer. He chuckled lowly, caressing your head as he looked down at you. His lustful eyes peered down at you as you looked up at him with your own desperate ones. Before you could pull him out of his underwear he stopped you, pulling back.

“Hold on.” He whispered softly, moving to his bedside table and rummaging through it. Your gaze followed him, crawling over on the bed towards him, “shit.” He muttered, a frown on his face. You furrowed your brows in confusion, sitting on your knees as he went to cup your face. He kissed your lips sweetly, apologetically. “Sorry (Y/N)… I think we have to do this another time, I don’ got any condoms.”

You took his hands from your face, kissing his knuckles. Feeling his calloused fingertips run against your palms. “It’s okay… I don’t mind.” You said gently and looked down at his fingers laced with yours. His eyes widened and he frowned once again, rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Ya sure? I don’… I don’ think tha’s a good idea (Y/N),” he murmured softly. You sighed, lowering your hand to palm him through his briefs, earning a grunt from him as his hand gripped your wrist. You looked into his eyes, begging him to just continue without it. His grip on your wrist loosened and you continued to move your hand against him, a low groan escaping him. “(Y/N).”

“Please Daryl… I don’t care. Just pull out.” You pleaded with him, you just needed him inside of you. Feeling more aroused the more he kept you waiting. His bangs were over his eyes again, ”I’ll have to trim those soon.” You thought to yourself, he kept silent as if contemplating the idea. He nodded slowly, taking your chin and lifting your face to his before smashing his lips onto yours in a heated kiss.

His tongue met yours messily as he pushed you down onto the bed, his hands finding your breasts again. Kissing him was addicting, it felt right. You let out a small moan into his mouth, his grip on your breast tightening as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth. A low growl escaped him as he pulled back, slipping off his boxers. Your eyes travelled down to see his cock, your breath catching from how hard it was. Not to mention how huge he was. He groaned, taking hold of himself and stroking himself slowly to relieve some of that tension, precum starting to dribble out of his tip. You pulled him down by his neck, connecting your lips once more while you replaced his hand with your own. Jerking him off slowly as he groaned deeply into your mouth.

“Hol’ on baby.” He whispered sweetly, taking your hand away from him. He moved back, keeping his hands on your knees as you looked up at him. Your expression one of pure lust and desire, the dim light of his lamp highlighting your curves, your body scarred from past battles and years of being in the apocalypse. Your hair was perfectly splayed around the pillow framing your head and your lips were parted, swollen. The hands on your knees slowly pushed them apart, spreading you open for him. He groaned at the sight unravelling in front of him, his cock twitching as his gaze wandered down to your dripping cunt. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

His finger dipped down to touch your pussy as he jerked himself off slowly, a mewl spilling out of your mouth at the sensation. His touch was so light and delicate it almost hurt. “Daryl please.” You pleaded, not wanting to continue this any longer. You needed him inside of you. He got the memo, nodding while grabbing your hips with one hand as the other grabbed his dick and positioned it at your entrance.

“Fuck yer so wet.” He drawled, his tip running through your folds as you whined impatiently. He chuckled quietly, lowering his head to kiss your jaw, sucking gently. “So impatient.” He growled, kissing down your neck and over to your breasts. His tip pushing into you slowly.

You let out a cry as he slowly pushed into you, his thick dick stretching you, your walls convulsing around him as you struggled to adjust. He cursed into your neck, kissing the sweet spot on your neck while a hand moved into your hair to try and distract you from the pain. You whimpered, closing your eyes as you tried to focus on anything but the pain as he continued to push in slowly. He caressed your hair and kissed up your neck and over to your jaw, shushing you. Murmuring sweet nothings into your ear as he bottomed out, halting once he fully entered. You weren’t necessarily a virgin but the last time you’ve ever had sex was before the apocalypse, and he wasn’t as big as Daryl.

“Move.” You whimpered breathlessly, he looked up at you for confirmation and when you nodded he slowly pulled out. Only to push back in, eliciting a whine from you. He hesitantly continued and soon the pain turned into pleasure, a deep moan erupting from you as he kept his face buried in your neck. His hot breath turning you on further as he started to bite at your neck, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

He let out a low groan into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he moved down to your breasts once more. His tongue darting out and licking your nipple while his hand moved to pinch the other. Everything quickly became overwhelming as your back arched off the bed and into him, a loud moan escaping you once more. You didn’t care about being too loud, you were too in bliss to even think about someone hearing you. Your hands moved into his hair, tugging it and causing him to grunt in your ear. His pace quickened and the squelch of his dick pumping into your wet cunt echoed through the room.

His lips returned back to yours, your tongues meeting in an intimate dance as his hips snapped relentlessly into you. You could do nothing but moan into his mouth and tug his hair, his own hands gripping at your hips, probably going to leave bruises in the morning from how tight he was holding onto you. The kiss was sloppy and messy, your teeth clashing together while moans and whines poured out of your mouth and into his. He swallowed up your noises, pressing his mouth right up against yours to muffle your sounds. All while pounding into you at a rough pace.

One of your hands trailed down his neck and onto his back, digging your nails into his skin and releasing your mouth from his. He buried his face into your neck, groaning more as you scratched his back and pulled his hair. His hips stuttering slightly. You held him close, wrapping your legs around his waist while he tried to speed up again. The headboard was hitting the wall now and the bed was creaking with every thrust he gave. Your moans blended perfectly together with his heavy groans, the sound of his balls hitting your ass echoing through his room.

You started to shake, that same feeling building up in your stomach as your walls throbbed around him, eliciting a choked moan from him as he slipped an arm under you. Soft gasps came out of your mouth, your throat hoarse from all your screaming and moaning, but they kept on coming. He held you close to him, acknowledging the fact you’re close.

“Almost there baby, hold on fer me.” He grunted into your ear, his thrusts becoming more sloppy and irregular as he also chased towards his climax. You quietly whined into his ear, your pussy clenching around his dick. His eyes rolled back into his head as your walls trapped him inside of you, thrusting deeper into you and hitting that sweet spot.

You threw your head back, arching off the bed as you let out a loud moan of his name. Releasing all over his cock and onto his bedsheets.

“So tight…” He moaned softly, pulling out and cumming on your stomach. He collapsed on top of you, not fully pressing his body weight on you. The two of you breathing heavily as you try to catch your breaths. After a moment he lifted off of you, kissing your jaw. You kept your eyes closed, lips parted in a soft breathing while he whispered into your ear. “Be righ’ back.”

You can hear him walk into the bathroom, a bit of shuffling around before he comes back into the room. You were right where he left you, eyes closed and covered in cum. You could hear him chuckle quietly before a cold feeling hits your skin, your eyes snap open in shock and he shushes you. You look down and notice he’s wiping you clean with a wet towel. Relaxing, you lay your head back down on the pillow, enjoying the cold feeling on your hot skin as he wipes you completely clean. He leaves for a second time to throw the towel into a laundry bin, walking back up to you and smiling softly as he watches you wrap yourself up in his blanket.

“Got some room fer me?” He drawled, chuckling softly. You open your eyes a bit, lifting your arm to welcome him. He quickly got into bed with you, shutting off his lamp as he pulled the covers over the both of you, kissing your forehead. “Okay?” He asked quietly, stroking your hair out of your face.

“Better than okay.” Your voice cracked, hoarse from all the moaning. He just breathed out softly in response, holding you into his chest.

“Y’know I wanted our first time to be special…. but ‘m not entirely upset with how this went.” He snorted, squeezing you gently. You laughed gently, lifting your head to peck his lips.

“It was special.” You argued lightly, kissing his cheek before relaxing in his arms. He looked down at you, there wasn’t much light in the room but he could still make out your features. He smiled to himself, glad that tonight happened the way it did. Nothing else was said as you both slowly succumbed to sleep.

You woke up when you felt no one beside you, panicked you sat up and looked around for Daryl. Your shoulders relaxing when you heard the sink in the bathroom, quickly getting up and slipping on your underwear along with your bra. You didn’t have any place to be so you decided to just stay here for the morning, grinning as you found one of his shirts. Bringing it up to your nose and smelling it, tobacco and his natural musk filling your senses. You put it on, blushing at the fact that you could now wear his clothes.

“Oh my god.” You turned around at the sound of Daryl’s voice, he stood there at the doorframe of the bathroom. Looking you up and down before walking up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist, “you look so gorgeous (Y/N)…” He kissed the top of your head, rocking you side to side slowly as you giggled.

“You going out?” You beamed up at him, knowing he usually wakes up early to hunt. He nodded, kissing your head again before ruffling your hair and letting you go.

“Yeah, ya should probably go get somethin’ to eat. Wouldn’ want yer pretty self to be hungry.” You giggled, nodding before turning to go upstairs. He smirked as he watched you leave, his eyes trailing over the marks on your neck. He shook his head grinning to himself as he got his gear ready.

You walked into the kitchen, looking through the fridge and grabbing some leftover food from the cookout. Jumping when you closed the door and saw Carol, “jesus fucking christ.”

“So you did fuck him on the first date.” Carol smirked at you, following you over to the table. You rolled your eyes, hiding a grin. “So are you together now? Finally? After months and months of painful interactions that I had to witness and hear about with my own two ears and eyes???”

You scoffed, opening your mouth to answer before Daryl stepped into the room.

“Mornin’.” He gruffed, waving to Carol and kissing your head before heading towards the front door. “See ya later, (Y/N)…” He looked you over once again before leaving, crossbow in hand.

You turn your head back to Carol, a light blush on your face along with a grin. “Got my answer.” She grinned.

You giggled softly, picking at your food. “It’s…. a work in progress…”

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[psychedelic-ink]

𝐎𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 5.6k

chapter summary: With Sarah at a sleepover, you, Joel and Tommy get together late to paint the now empty room, but with a distressing call from Sarah, Joel leaves to pick her up. You're just surprised as him when Sarah asks for you specifically. Later on, you accidentally see something that was meant for Asha's eyes only.

warnings: sarah gets her period for the first time so first-time period talk, nude photo (joel's), female masturbation (reader), feelings of loneliness (reader)

Chapter Four || Chapter Six

It’s been two weeks since Asha became a part of Joel’s life. They were more similar to what he initially had thought. For starters, neither of them talked about their families or upbringings. It was from Tommy that Joel learned that her parents still resided in India and that she came here alone, unsupported for the most part. 

Joel, however, didn’t really have much family to talk about even if he wanted to. He only had Tommy and Sarah. He mentioned them a total of two times; one because Sarah got sick at school and he had to go and get her, meaning he had to cancel his lunch with Asha. And the second was when he showed up late one night with a black eye due to Tommy getting under the skin of the wrong crowd. That night he had thought of going to you instead, but then decided against it. The next day he learned that you cleaned up Tommy’s wounds— it shouldn’t have made his heart twinge with jealousy, but it did.

They used each other, Joel and Asha, at least that was what he felt, and it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. They enjoyed each other's company, had fun together, slept together. She made him aware of things that he wasn’t even aware of and vice versa. Asha never had the desire to talk about the future or asked to come over. Her apartment was just fine, and they often met up there instead of anywhere else. She never asked about his personal life. 

But that all changed as Joel was driving her from work to her home. 

“Tommy talks a lot about this girl,” she muses, smiling lightly. “Your neighbor I think? He came and ask me for room decor tips, it was cute.” 

“That’s the one,” Joel answers, shifting in his seat. “I knew he wasn’t clever enough to think of all of that on his own.” 

“He did come up with the color himself, so it wasn’t all me.” 

“He’s been braggin’ a lot, it’s annoyin’” 

She presses a hand on his thigh, squeezing, she drags her fingers up the seam of his jeans. “Come on, Joel. He’s just happy. I think she’s good for him.” 

“They’re both good for each other.” he nods, ignoring her hand resting right below his pelvis. “I’m actually heading there after dropping you off, you wanna come? I’m sure she’ll appreciate more female company.” 

She laughs and pulls her hand back to her lap, “Just because we both have vaginas doesn’t mean we’ll get along,” Asha hums, pulling her bag up from between her legs. “However, I do think we would get along. Sadly, I have an assignment due and need to finish at least most of it before you come over.” 

“Ah that’s right,” he pouts, annoyed at himself. “Sorry I forgot.” 

“It’s okay, I forget half the things you do.” 

“Is that normal for couples?”

She mulls over his question for a while, lips moving from side to side, a tick that she did whenever she was cooking up something clever. Then she stills, a wide smile spreading across her face. 

“I think for us it is.” 

Joel couldn't agree more, to be honest. He taps his thumbs against the steering wheel, pulling into her drive-thru. She quickly presses her lips into his cheekbone and he returns in like. Before she leaves, Asha’s hand stills at the handle, briefly turning to him. 

“By the way did you do that thing I asked you?” 

“Fuck,” he heaves out, letting his head drop. “I did, but I forgot it at home. I’ll bring it later tonight, promise.” 

“I’ll be waiting with bated breath, Joel Miller,” she grins. “Who’s looking after Sarah?” 

“She’s staying at her friends' tonight. Girls' night. She forced me to bake brownies.” 

“Never pinned you down for a chef.” 

“I’m not. We burned the first tray.” 

You're feeling unreasonably happy. It’s a welcomed feeling, a soft tingle that starts from your toes, blossoms across your skin, and ends at your lips, forming a sheepish smile. You’re leaning against the doorframe looking at the now-empty room. You and Tommy had spread newspaper all over the floor, both of you wearing your scrappiest of clothes. 

Tommy opens a can of paint and starts mixing it with a wooden stick. 

“What are you doing that for?” 

Tommy turns to you, a grin on his face. "Well sweetheart, we can't just slap this paint on the walls. We need to mix it thoroughly to get the perfect consistency. This ain’t like one of your paintings."

You tilt your head, your eyebrow raising, an amused smile blossoms over your lips. "First of all, we do need consistency too. And what's the perfect consistency to paint a wall? It’s a wall, shouldn’t be that hard."

Tommy dips the wooden stick into the can and lifts it out, letting the excess paint drip back into the can. "It should be smooth and creamy, not too thick and not too thin. You don't want it to be runny, or it will drip all over the place, but if it's too thick, it won't spread evenly."

He starts stirring the paint in a circular motion, his wrist moving in a steady rhythm. The sound of the stick scraping against the bottom of the can fills the room, creating a soothing hum.

"As you mix the paint," he continues, "you should periodically lift the stick out of the can and let the paint drip back in. That way, you can see if it's the right consistency. If it's too thick, you can add a bit of water to thin it out, and if it's too thin, you can add a bit more paint."

You nod, taking mental notes. "Got it. Smooth and creamy.” 

Tommy grins. "Exactly, creamy is preferable. It responds better."

Your cheeks heat up at the response. Something about the way he rolls his tongue over the words make goosebumps rise on your skin, a tender shiver coursing through your body. With a soft shudder, you wrap your arms around yourself. 

“When do you think Joel is coming over?” 

“Don’t know. I think he’s with Asha.” 

“Asha,” you repeat, no emotion behind the words but still, you feel the corner of your lips quivering. “Do they get along well?” 

Tommy shrugs and slowly gets up, “I guess. Joel isn’t really the type to kiss and tell you know? And Asha…well, I guess it’s safe to say she’s pretty much the same.” 

“Basically perfect for each other.” 

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t go that far,” Tommy answers, scratching the back of his head. “Being so similar ain’t always a good thing.” 

Silence follows and you can vaguely hear a car pulling in next door, must be Joel. Thoughts wildly swirling in your head, you want to take this opportunity to ask about Sarah’s mother, something Joel never talks about, and also something Sarah never mentiones. You lick your lips, nails digging into your forearms. 

“Does it bother you?” 

The question takes you by surprise, you blink before answering. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Does it bother you that he’s with someone?” 

You try to keep your shock to a minimum. Tommy’s gaze reminds you of the yellow gaze of a hawk, piecing, overly observant. You swallow and let out a laugh with a desperate need to lighten the heavy air circling you both. You shake your head, walking up to Tommy, you give him a gentle pat with the back of your hand. 

“Why would that bother me? I’m just making conversation.” 

Tommy’s shoulders relax, dropping substantially. You’re surprised you hadn’t noticed how tense he was before. 

“Sorry, I was just thinkin’ too much.” 

Before you can answer a loud knock startles you both. “Must be Joel. 

“You go, I’ll open the rest of the cans.” 

Joel looks out of breath when you open the door for him, his chest heaves and he staggers forward, bracing himself by holding both knees. 

“Didn’t mean to be late,” he says. “But I brought whiskey.” 

“Is that why you went to your place first?” 

He closes the door behind him, “You heard that?” 

“Saw the lights.” 

You notice a magazine in his hands but fail to see the title, it’s rolled up. In the other he has the bottle and you take it from him, heading to the kitchen, he follows. 

“I also had to pick up somethin’ I promised Asha. I’m meetin’ up with her after this.” 

Your chest tightens and you roll your shoulders to ground yourself before reaching to get three glasses. “Isn’t that going to be late?” 

“I ain’t five.” he answers with a low chuckle. “But yeah it’s late but she has work to do and I promised you lot I’d be here.” 

“You didn’t have to come. You can go.” 

You wince at your own wording. It definitely came out harsh, no question about it. Taking a deep inhale, you feel the coolnes of the kitchen counter under your fingers, holding on to it. Joel’s presence looms near, his hand touching the small of your back. He’s not holding the magazine anymore. 

“Are you alright darlin’?” he asks with a hint of worry. He drags his fingers up your spine, a sudden heat coils in your stomach. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m happy to be here, you know that.” 

“I do, sorry,” you mutter, fingers grasping two glasses before pulling away. “Tommy’s in the room, making the paint all creamy and stuff.” 

“He’s doing what now?” 

When you look at him all the happiness from before comes surging back, he has the most horrified, flabbergasted expression you’ve ever seen. The first hints of laughter come out in short bubbles, and as Joel continues to stare, you burst, loud, chest-rattling sounds of joy clawing out of your lungs. His shocked expression shifts into a happy one, a grin playing at the side of his lips. 

“I keep tellin’ him to stop sayin’ that,” he clicks his tongue. “I keep tellin’ him ‘saying smooth is enough’ he never listens.” 

“It did make me laugh a lot though, so maybe it’s not so bad that he says that.” 

“If it made you laugh it definitely ain’t a bad thing,” he answers, taking the bottle and heading toward the room. “I love hearin’ you laugh.” 

You force your legs to move despite wanting to stop and stare behind him as he disappears through the hall. First the kiss on the cheek, and now this. Blood pools under your fingernails, confusion makes your head spin—but you still continue to walk. The thoughts that began to form quickly disappear when you enter the room, you see Joel leaning over Tommy. 

“Why do you still use the word creamy?” he asks, hands in the air. “Why?” 

“It’s a fun word,” Tommy answers, eyes finding yours mid sentence and winks. 

Your mind races but you smile anyway. Tommy’s bizarre question from earlier must’ve riled me up, you think, stepping inside. There’s no logical reason why Joel dating Asha would bother you, he doesn’t belong to you, hell, you’re not even that close. You’re just acting up because him and Tommy are the first friends you made when you moved here. Just some friendly overprotectiveness, that’s all, you would act the same if Tommy was dating someone. 

You nod as a response to your thoughts, yes, you definitely would act the same. 

“Are you possessed or somethin’ what’s going on with you?” 

You flinch at the question and turn to Tommy, he has that familiar lopsided smile, eyes amused. 

“I’m good, I was just thinking of something.” 

You don’t miss the way Joel looks at you, worry crossing his face, but you act as if you didn’t see him. Taking a deep breath, you slap your hands together. 

“So, where do we start?”

The room heavily smells of paint. Toxicity is slowly inhaled through your nostrils, burns your throat, and swirls in your lungs. You feel slightly queasy. Joel is sitting across from you with his legs outstretched and hands palms pressed into the newspaper-covered floors to keep himself upright. Tommy has his legs crossed, he leans forward to grab a piece of chocolate. And you. You have his jacket thrown above your shoulders, the night chill settling easier now that the room is empty and the walls wet with paint. 

While Tommy leans to grab the piece, his shirt rolls up his waist, you notice a tiny, crooked bullseye tattoo with two circles and a dot. Fascinated by this new discovery, you poke it, and, essentially, him. He flinches, giving you an almost offended look as he turns around. 

“The hell are you doin’?” he covers the patch of skin with his hand. 

“You have a tattoo.” 

It’s a statement. Joel gives you two a crooked grin as he takes a sip from his glass. Tommy raises an eyebrow, a small dimple forming on his right cheek as he smiles. 

“So? Just because I have a tat doesn’t mean you can poke me.” 

“Sorry, I just didn’t know you had one.” your lips crack a smile. “It’s cute.” 

You notice the soft flush coloring his cheeks, but you swiftly ignore it when Joel speaks, his voice low and scratchy from the late hour— and from inhaling the paint, probably. 

“Tommy had the bright idea to be a tattooist when we were in high school. He begged for a kit every year for his birthday, and one year I actually managed to get together a bit of cash to buy him one of them shit stick and poke sets.” 

“Awww, that’s adorable,” you grin, playfully shoving your shoulder into Tommy’s. The younger Miller shook his head, averting his eyes from his brother. “I’m assuming you got a tattoo too, right Joel?” 

“No.” 

Tommy scoffs at the sudden denial, he accusatorily points the piece of chocolate at his brother, then shoves it into his mouth, “Come on now, don’t be shy. Show off my masterpiece.” 

“Some masterpiece,” he grunts, rolling his eyes. “But fine.” 

You’re too stunned to actually notice the small patch of inked skin when he lifts his shirt, your mouth dry as sandpaper. He also has a crooked bullseye, a bit darker in shade compared to Tommy’s. The shape is right above his ribs, to the side of his torso. Some part of you wants to touch it as well, to follow the round pattern with the tips of your fingers but you fight the urge. 

“Cool,” you say unintelligently and he releases the shirt, covering his skin once more. You turn your head to Tommy. “Why did you stop?” 

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I kind of just did.” 

“Could be because you decided to dive head first into a war.” Joel says, with a fresh sounding bitterness. 

Tommy’s shoulders raise, his brown eyes a shade darker with the glare pointed directly at his brother. Family is never easy, no matter how close or loving. You know that Tommy is riddled with regret much like your own brother, though at least Tommy had the sense to get out before falling in completely. You place a hand on Tommy’s thigh and squeeze, your heart breaking instantly at the way his eyes soften when he looks at you. 

“If you decide to ever get back into it, I’d be happy to draw you up some designs.” 

“If that means you’re gonna get back into drawin’ again sure, I’ll get back into tattooing. I just need to find that old set.” 

“You’re not using me to experiment again,” Joel grins. “Just sayin’” 

Getting back into drawing. Seriously how long has it been? Has it been long enough that it was even obvious to Tommy and Joel? You had done a couple of sketches, not really anything riveting. The end product always resembled either a dark hole or a dark room of some kind. It was like a manifestation of your thoughts, complicated, scratchy, overlapping. A sea of gruesome lines. 

For you, painting has always been about expressing yourself in ways you couldn’t imagine. It could be a purple cat staring into a well. A city in ruins standing at the edge of a leaf. Sometimes it could be as simple as a girl in a hallway, threading upon a red carpet. Right now is a perfect time to express yourself. The pain, the void. But you can’t bring yourself to lift a brush or a pen. It’s too much. No image is clear enough for you to put on a canvas. Despite how complicated it looks, you feel that in the end art should be simple to make. Your hand should move in fluid motions, it shouldn’t be a struggle against waves of fear. 

“Hey,” Tommy touches your cheek, for some reason, you lean into the touch and the same fingers slide to the back of your head, giving your scalp a pleasant scratch. “Are you good?” 

“I was just thinking,” you answer, eyes momentarily finding Joel. He looks stiff as a rock. “I miss painting.” 

“Then paint,” Joel says. “What’s stopping you?” 

“Myself. I didn’t have this problem before but now I feel stuck. Everything comes to me all at once and all that combined results in an empty canvas.” 

“What if we gave you something to draw?” he asks, earning a confused look from both Tommy and yourself. He smooths his thumb over the corner of his lip. “Like, a single thing. Maybe it can ease you in.” 

“Did you have a suggestion?” 

“A butterfly.” 

Your eyes widen at the prospect of it; a creature with beautiful wings, something that could be any shape or size. A tiny thing that was an embodiment of elegance in most cultures. A god in some. You can imagine patterns above fluttering wings; orange, purple, pink. You’re reminded of fairies dancing and leaving behind fairy rings, you see a blue butterfly flying above into a blue sky that is paler in comparison. 

“A butterfly,” you repeat, your lips feeling numb. Only then do you notice that Tommy’s fingers hand slid to your neck, cupping it gently. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Sarah loves butterflies,” he remarks as if reminiscing a pleasant memory. “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you make of them.” 

And just like that, a sharp melody cuts through the conversation. Joel looks down at his phone, eyebrows raising with slight surprise and worry. His eyes snap to you both. 

“Speak of the devil,” he says, getting up. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” 

He disappears, leaving you and Tommy alone. Sleep starting to make its way through the cracks of your reserve, you allow yourself to lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. His hand gently glides down from your neck to the small of your back, a comforting touch. 

“Do you like the color?” he whispers. 

You stare up at the ceiling, a soft light lavender gives the room a dream-like state. Your eyes shift back to him, a soft smile tugs at your lips. 

“I do,” you hum. “But I think we should paint one of the walls a nice blue.” 

“Blue?” he asks. “Why blue?” 

“It reminds me of butterflies.” 

You stare blankly at the white door in front of you. Both you and Tommy were taken aback when Joel asked you to come over after he brough Sarah back home. She refused to talk about it. And She asked for you specifically, Joel managed to learn what the issue was then. She’d gotten her period for the first time. 

Which is why you have a pack of pads, painkillers and the last pieces of chocolate. 

To be completely honest, you’re nervous as hell. It’s ridiculous really, considering Sarah is only fourteen years old. But alas, here you are, staring at the door with light filtering through the bottom gap. You’d told Joel to wait downstairs, and Tommy had offered to tidy up the room and throw out the newspapers. Right now, you’re regretting your decision of making Joel wait downstairs. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you knock on the door twice. A weak sound barely reaches your ears. 

“Come in.” 

Sarah’s laying on the bed, curled up into a ball with her back turned to the door. Your throat tightens a bit. You don’t quite remember what your first period was like, but you know it must’ve been rough. It’s not easy to go to the bathroom and suddenly see blood stains all over your underwear. Briefly, you wonder if Joel ever talked to her about it. Did it come as a shock? They teach what periods are in school right? 

Tentative, you make your way to the bed and gently sit at the foot of the bed. You notice her wincing a little. 

“Are you alright?” 

“‘T hurts.” 

“I brought you painkillers,” you inform. “also a bit of chocolate.” 

“I don’t want chocolate.” 

“Tell me what you need then.” 

“It was so humiliating,” she snaps, stretching her legs a bit but still refusing to look at you. “Everyone was there, well the girls, and I didn’t even notice it first. Sally did.” 

You don’t know what entices you to do it, but you place a hand over her ankle. She clams down for a moment, takes a deep breath. She shudders. 

“It was awful,” she chokes up. “They didn’t laugh or anything and it makes me even more upset that my first reaction was to call my dad.” 

“That’s normal,” you answer, rubbing soothing circles into her clothed skin. “These things are difficult, your hormones are all over the place—” 

“Gross.” 

You can’t help but chuckle at that, “Yeah it’s pretty gross. I’m just trying to say that it’s normal to call your dad and I’m sure your friends will understand.” 

“You’re too optimistic.” 

“Am I?” you tease. “First time I’ve heard of it.” 

Sarah sits up and pulls her knees close to her chest. She seems calmer now, more level-headed like her usual self. She holds your gaze, you could almost see a reflection of yourself in them. She’d been crying. Joel’s heart must’ve shattered into a million pieces. 

“Is it always going to hurt this bad?” 

“Kinda, yeah. I’m not going to try and bullshit you by saying it’s a beautiful thing. It’s not. But,” you offer her the last bit of chocolate, and she takes it with a small smile before plopping it on her tongue. “You’ll learn how to navigate it better. Just know that whatever you’re feeling, no matter the age, is always okay.” 

“So I can still call my dad when I’m like…Fifty?” 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to pick you up wherever you are.” 

She snorts, “If he’s alive.” 

“That man has the stubbornness of a mule. He’ll come back as a zombie if he has to.” 

“That would actually be kinda cool.” 

You smile as she thinks about it, her eyes looking up to the ceiling. Meanwhile, you take a peek at her clock, 2 AM. Time sure does fly. 

“You should take a shower,” you say, turning back to Sarah. “And here, I brought you some pads. Do you want me to show you how to use it?” 

She shakes her head, “I’m good. Thanks by the way…I…appreciate it.”

“I’m here whenever you need me. I’m only a knock away.” 

“Isn’t that supposed to be a phone call away?” 

“I don’t think that fits the whole neighbor theme.” 

Before you leave, you notice a butterfly hanging from her window. A small smile touches your lips. 

It’s blue. 

“Is she okay?” 

You’re not at all surprised when you see Joel with his head between his hands, elbows painfully digging into the kitchen counter. The circles under his eyes seem a shade darker, the white of his eyes stained with red. 

“She’s alright don’t worry. She going to take a shower now, and use the pads I gave her. I also brought her painkillers that she might want to take before bed,” you had unknowingly brought the box down with you. You place it in front of Joel, his gaze drops. His lips move slightly as he silently reads the brand. “There isn’t much in there you should buy another one tomorrow.” 

“Alright,” he answers, letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’ll buy you a box too.” 

“No need, you’ve already done a lot for me. Helping your daughter navigate the wonders of womanhood is the least I could do.” you answer with a heaping amount of sarcasm in your tone. 

“I’d be lost without you, neighbor.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you grin and rest your hands on top of the counter as well. “You could’ve asked Asha to talk to her if I wasn’t around.” 

His face falls, a sudden chill settling around you both. He shakes his head, the crease between his brows deep. “She specifically asked for you. Besides the thing with Asha—” 

His words come to a sudden halt as if he doesn’t know how to describe the situation. Tommy had said that they were similar in character, you wonder if Asha is better at expressing her thoughts, you can’t imagine two people having the same struggle being together. 

Joel suddenly takes your hands into his own, eliciting a soft gasp from the back of your throat. 

“She asked for you,” he repeats again. “And I wouldn’t trust anyone else with a matter this sensitive.” 

His hands are warm but his fingertips are cold. With an overwhelming need to touch, you smooth your thumb over the mountains of his knuckles, dipping between the valleys and climbing uphill. He seems to have the same need. You can see the turmoil in his eyes as he leans closer, lips an inch away, he holds your gaze. A moment worth painting, you think, the suspense, the aching need, to be forced apart. Unlike you, Joel doesn’t explore the depths of your skin, so you continue to do so for the both of you. 

Your breath is lodged in your throat, a lump. You turn over his hand, tracing the lifelines and vanished marks of his skin. His pulse is fast under the pads of your fingers, the vein like a river overflowing across his forearm. You stop at the wrist, only your eyes allowed to continue the journey. 

Staring at his skin, visions of what Sarah’s mother must’ve looked like flash before your eyes. You wonder if she saw the same things that you did, you wonder what possessed her to leave all this behind—the scarred skin, the soft voice, the dark brown eyes, the daughter, the home, the life. 

Then you’re abundantly made aware of another’s presence when your eyes follow the slope of his right shoulder and see a darkened mark on his neck. Asha has been with him more intimately, you wonder what she sees when she looks at him. Is it the same as you? Does she see the sadness lurking under his skin? The worry of never being able to be enough for those around him? Does she understand what he feels? 

Do you? 

“I should go,” you exclaim, pulling away your hands like they’ve been burned. “Let me know if she needs anything else.” 

You’re halfway to the door when you feel his fingers circling your wrist, not enough to physically hold you but enough to make his presence known. You hear the words spilling from his lips ‘wait’ he says, ‘let me walk you over’ but it’s too late, you’re out the door, throwing yourself into the chill of the night. 

It’s too much, it’s too sudden, it’s too bizarre. 

Your fingertips are still tingling with the sensation of his skin underneath yours, the soft hairs, the tiny bumps littered over. It reminds you of the smooth feeling of oil over canvas, all you want to do is press your palms and spread your fingers, touching him, you want to feel everything. 

Tommy’s waiting on the porch, he gives you a look. “Is Sarah alright?” 

“She’s fine,” you say, a bit breathless. “She’s…yeah she’s going to be fine.” 

“Good,” he nods. “Anyway I should head back home, I cleared up the newspapers and I’ll come back for the cans tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” 

His mind seems to be whirring because he doesn’t notice how slowly you’re speaking, he doesn’t notice the frantic beating of your heart. Tommy nods to himself, and leans in, you feel the brush of his lips against your ear. 

“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

His lips are on your cheek, soft and wet. He smells of cigarettes and paint, but something sweet lingers below the surface. Your heart drops, your stomach churns. The feeling disappears as quickly as it came. Before you can say anything, he’s already at the end of the three steps you have. 

“Goodnight,” Tommy calls out. 

You watch like a deer in headlights as the car moves away, the red light slowly disappearing into the distance. You touch where he had kissed. It wasn’t the first time, but it feels different. It reminds you of when Joel kissed you, a similar feeling. The only difference is that instead of stopping time, you feel like you’re drowning in it.

Then you realize. 

Tommy has feelings for you. 

You clearly have feelings for Joel. 

And you think Joel might have feelings for you too. 

Your fingers twitch, butterflies flutter wildly both in your stomach and in your head. 

You head inside. 

You trudge into the bedroom, the scent of wet paint clinging to your skin like a suffocating blanket. You had brough along with you the magazine Joel had left on the coffee table. Sitting on the bed, you flip through the pages, but the content is dull, littered with construction jargon that is foreign to you. 

Just as you're about to give up on the magazine, a photograph falls out from between the pages, landing on your lap. A photograph, you deduce, picking it up from your lap. It feels fresh, glossy, and slightly uncomfortable to the touch. You gaze at the image, and it takes a moment for your brain to register what you're seeing.

Every ounce of blood is drained from your face, all that heat pooling between your legs. your eyes go wide. 

It’s Joel. 

Half of his face is out of frame and he’s shirtless but you recognize him. Saliva floods your mouth. It’s not a very neatly taken picture, probably time adjusted so he could pose, which explains the slight blur of the background. His jeans hang low on his hips, unbuttoned, and his fingers disappear beneath the waistband, hinting at what lies beneath.

You trace the way his muscles are firm under his skin, the softness of his stomach, the faint trail of hair leading down to his navel. 

The faint sight of the bullseye tattoo on his ribs solidifies to you that this is indeed Joel. You’re lightheaded. When he said he stopped by home to pick up something for Asha you hadn’t realized that this would be it, a suggestive, nearly nude, photo. Now you just feel stupid for assuming he could be into you, clearly, he and Asha are both comfortable with each other enough for stuff like this. 

You continue to stare, the blood rush loud in your ears. You memorize every curve, every little detail of his body. The small scars littered across his chest, the unsure hint of a smile that’s mostly hidden, the pebbled nipples due to the cool air of the room. You want to see what lies under his pants, you want to see the rest of him and engrave that into memory. You want his body to burn yours, make you into something beautiful—make you into art. 

You sneak your hand between your legs, one hand still propping the photo up. You never actually masturbated to a picture before, mostly videos or just your own imagination. There’s something…interesting about it. Your imagination is more vivid somehow as you look at the picture, you can almost feel the warmth of his body blanketing yours, those thick fingers circling your clit and slipping inside. 

A soft moan breaks from your lips. You feel blood heating your cheeks, your skin incredibly warm and head dizzy from staring at him. You imagine having him in your mouth, your tongue teasing that sensitive spot right under the head of his cock. You think of the sounds he’d make, how guttural they would be. 

You arch your back as you imagine his thick cock pressing into you, he pulls you closer to him. His hips move in a circular motion, pushing deeper and deeper into you as you moan in pleasure. His hands grasp your hips and he pulls you closer.

Your eyes flutter open as you imagine his lips on yours, tasting the sweat that is dripping from your skin. He flicks his tongue, exploring your mouth and sending sparks throughout your body. His hands move up your back, slowly tracing your spine until he reaches your shoulders. You feel his hands slide up around your neck as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your breath hitches as you feel the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You reach your hands around his back, pulling him even closer as his hips continue to move against yours. Your pleasure builds, and soon you let out a loud moan as you feel yourself cresting over the edge.

You imagine yourself collapsing against him, panting softly as the pleasure slowly ebbs away from your body. You feel the imaginary warmth of his embrace still surrounding you. It’s painful almost. Feeling him when he’s not here. Your heart hurts, chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. You take a sharp inhale, shaking your head. 

Tears blur your vision as you place the photo back between the pages of the magazine. 

[sixersigned]

@bllcphr / starter call!

The author sits there in the dark, his figure overlooking that of his life's work – and what he'd do to defend it. The weapon sits by his side, its cylinders glinting ominously in the faint, blue lights of the room. What is he feeling? He can't divulge, there's too much to feel, too much he's had to sacrifice. He had to do it, he had to. F was going to destroy his muse, destroy him; Stanford couldn't let that happen. An instinct had clawed its way into him, like he was at the wheel for his actions, and yet not steering.

You won't take him. You won't take my life's work!

No, the declaration and panic steered it all for him to type the words STANFORD PINES, and by the time it had happened, he'd realized just what he'd done. His brow furrows, staring at the gun with a sudden malice—almost as if it had fired at F itself. And then, with sudden force, he picked it up and hurled it across the room, HARD; shattered it into millions of pieces. Stanford curls into himself, livid with himself and not knowing quite why. He did what he had to... right?

F had been his friend. One of the few people in his life that stayed, even when he should have long since left. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but what could he do? What else could he have done? F left him no choice... right?

[mvltiversed]

G.RAVITY F.ALLS STARTER CALL!

comment with an emoji or comment which muse you would like, for a thing from one of my g/ravity f/alls muses!

💫 — m.abel pines

🌲— d.ipper pines

🎱 — g.runkle s.tan(ley) pines

📝 — g.runkle s.tan(f.ord) pines

🪕 — f.iddleford m.cgucket

[chickenparm]

Where You Willed The Moon - Part 3/End

happy scara-release-day, here's the ending of this little goofy thing as a celebration. mind the chapter tags for specific warnings :^) can you tell this chapter is just a love letter to scaramouche? is it that obvious?

---

AO3 Link Prev Part

Scaramouche/Reader (reader is the traveler) reader in prev parts is F but this part can be read as GN 3,119 Words - NSFW Chapter Tags: Blowjobs, Crying, Confessions, minor Overstimulation Story Tags: Unhealthy Codependence, Enemies to Lovers, P in V, f!Receiving Oral, Thigh Riding, Mentions of m!Losing Virginity, Pining, Bullshit Sereniteapot Magic, sub-ish Scara when it counts :^)

Spoilers for the Sumeru story, disregards anything post-boss-fight.

---

“You could try to be a little civil.”

“And you could find a hole to stuff her in and we could leave her.”

…

“Why do you need her, anyway? You’ve got me now. Surely I’d be a better guide than a flying lavender melon.”

“Well, for starters, Paimon isn’t a wanted criminal.”

“I doubt I’m wanted. The sages are unlikely to admit their folly, and the Fatui aren’t necessarily on anyone’s good side, even on their best days.”

“Paimon is my best friend. I think that’s a good enough reason to not leave her in a ditch somewhere.”

“And I’m your-”

“My what?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Think about it. We’ll talk about it tonight-”

—

Wangshu Inn is deceptively quiet. Such a central location, popular with travelers and merchants alike, should be far more bustling than it currently is. But the weather is balmy and warm, the sky is clear, the roads have been safer, so it’s no wonder if there are more campfires dotted on the horizon than usual. 

It leaves you in blissful quiet, only the occasional conversation drifting from the walkways above and below, too muffled to really eavesdrop on anything of importance. That’s well enough for you - you’re alone, leaning on the window, breathing in of the slightly humid air that’s tinged with the dinner that’s being made in the kitchens below. 

Scaramouche will be back soon - it’s hard to break the habit of calling him that, when you’ve gone so long. You’d never use it to his face, but you’ve given up on trying to push that away for now. It’s not a terrible name, the connotations having been changed in your heart the moment your consciousness touched his own. 

With him comes Paimon - they’ve been arguing again, you can tell with how Paimon takes her food and disappears in a shower of sparks. She’s been doing that more often, her distaste for him well known despite your assurances that he’s not the same man that had been so hostile before. Conflicting personalities, you supposed. Like two pieces of sandpaper. 

“You’re thinking hard.”

“I’m not thinking at all.” Your counter comes over your shoulder, given with a lazy smile and a shrug of your shoulder. The skin of your cheek sticks to your shoulder with how thick the air feels, Liyue’s Summer has been particularly unforgiving this year, so you’ve heard. 

“Oh, so your head is just as empty as I thought it was.”

“You looked into it, remember? Saw my every thought?” Your lower back presses against the window frame as you turn to lean against it, watching as he settles at the low table and portions out food for himself. It’s unnecessary for him - food doesn’t provide him with anything other than an interesting pastime. Yet he participates anyway, and you’re not about to shame him for finding enjoyment in something so trivial.

At your questions, he lifts his gaze, unable to block his expressions with the hat that was thrown haphazardly on the bed you’ll share this evening. Without it, he seems almost vulnerable - like he’s lost a shield that protects him. The answer lingers for a moment, before he nods in an effort to forego something verbal. Your silence in return urges him to backtrack on that. 

“I did. Everything - likely as much as you’ve seen about me, I’d say.” Violet eyes turn to his bowl, filled with only rice for the moment. He takes a second to mix it around aimlessly, steam rolling once his chopsticks break the surface. “I wouldn’t have killed you, you know. In our fight.”

“One hundred and sixty-eight times grows a little fuzzy, but… I believe you.”

The amusement in your tone seems to annoy him, and he fixes you with an unconvincing glare and a sharp exhale. “I mean it. When we connected, I saw your life. Where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through. You aren’t human - you’re immortal. You won’t-”

Leave me. 

He doesn’t need to finish the thought, that mere insinuation making his cheeks color slightly as he looks you in the eye with all the bravery he can muster when he clearly wants to shy away. “I was confused but… a part of me believed you, when you brought up the prospect of losing myself. When you made it seem like you cared.”

“I did care. I do care.”

“I know that now,” he mumbles under his breath before righting himself, “but at the time, my thoughts were in the wrong place. I still wasn’t going to kill you, I wanted to-... to convince you to stay, I think. To convince you that if you joined me, I could help you look for your twin. As the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom, maybe I could offer enough to keep you.”

The leaves of Wangshu Inn’s tree rustle with the coming wind, filling the space with natural white noise and drowning out the sound of your heart breaking. He avoids you in favor of looking out the window over your shoulder, a stubborn set to his jaw as he cuts off anything further he might say to incriminate himself. 

Unable to allow a declaration like that to rest, you push off the window to cross the room, only a few short steps bringing you to his side where you kneel close enough for your knees to brush his thigh. He flinches when you reach for him, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, soft as ever. 

“If only you could’ve known that it was what came before that which brought me to you, hm?” Playing with the ends of his hair, you twist them loosely around your fingers before letting that hand slide down his shoulder, then to his arm, then to his elbow where his skin is barely covered between his arm guard and sleeve. “Well you have me now. Everything happens for a reason, I guess. Maybe all of that was just a convoluted way to bring us together.”

Scaramouche’s head turns so quickly that it startles you, his face dangerously close to your own, his nose just barely brushing against yours. His voice wavers, his question is one you can almost taste on your lips if you were to run your tongue out to catch it. 

“What am I to you?”

And the answer is so simple, so obvious that you wonder why he needed to ask it at all. But you’ve felt the need for reassurance more times than you can remember, and perhaps the situation with Paimon earlier had shaken his resolve in your dedication to him. Even after you’d given him everything, he greedily asked for more. As long as it was in your power to give…

“Everything.” A small smile from you, a look of astonishment from him that’s wiped away when you lean forward to kiss him gently. The featherlight touch lingers, leaving your skin tingling as you pull away just enough to watch the way his eyes snap shut to stem the shine of tears beginning to gather at the corners.

Scaramouche’s lip quivers, just before he draws it between his teeth to hide the motion. Giving him a small bit of privacy, you lean in to wrap your arms around his body, pulling him to lean on you. It’s a familiar motion, one that you’ve indulged in with him an innumerable amount of times. It’s as easy as breathing, as familiar as gliding had felt the first time you’d soared over Mondstadt. 

Fingers dig into your back, clutching you as he seeks all the comfort you’re offering him. He nearly bowls you over with how he leans into you, selfishly accepting everything on display until his face is buried into your shoulder and his body shakes with the effort of holding back the emotions that want to run free. 

“Don’t ever doubt how much you mean to me, alright? No one else can occupy the same space in my heart as you.” Gently, you kiss the exposed skin of his shoulder, lingering at your leisure as you watch a shiver raise bumps along his skin. Dragging your lips up to his neck, mouthing at the point of his pulse through the sheer fabric of his undershirt, you relish how he’s gone from limp in your arms to stunned tension. Anticipation colors him, even if you can no longer see his face. 

“Can I tell you something? Something you didn’t get to see in my mind, something you haven’t learned yet?”

As if he would say no, but it’s not often you get to tease him without getting a taste of his barbed responses. Instead of his sharp tongue, you receive a nod that’s deceptively demure, his hair brushing along your cheek smoothly with the motion. Kissing further up his neck, along the soft skin beneath his ear, and finally to his earlobe, you murmur your secret just loud enough that only he could ever hear its first manifestation into reality.

“I love you.”

Everything falls silent. The heartbeat in your ears, the leaves whispering in the tree, the conversations that flutter in from outside. For the briefest time, you’re almost convinced that perhaps you’ve spoken some code words that cease the world from spinning altogether. 

If you did nothing, said nothing further, would you be allowed to stay in this single moment until the end of time? Would that ending even come, so long as you kept so very still, your knees beginning to ache from the hardwood flooring? It’s a simple pain to bear in exchange for holding him like this, the burden on your heart lifted with the proclamation that’s been clawing to release itself from the very moment he’d crashed to the floor in that workshop so far below the city of Sumeru.

It’s not your doing that time begins to slip forward again. It’s his, where his shaking hands grow lax against you, barely hanging on with the friction between his fabric-covered palm and the back of your shirt. “Do you mean that?”

Scaramouche’s doubt hurts. Not because he second-guesses what you’ve said, but the entire reason he feels the need to do so in the first place. He’s been lied to, scorned, pushed away so many times that he can’t help but feel wary. So, you decide perhaps it’s best to show him. To ingrain it in his heart and his mind so thoroughly that he’ll never doubt your conviction ever again.

He doesn’t even fight you when you give him a push, pulling away enough that you can watch as he allows you to lean him back, further and further until he has to shift his legs to cage you in as his back hits the floor. The lanterns in the room set his face alight, showing the rose color of his cheeks and the wetness that begins to well up in his eyes once more. 

One swipe of your thumb isn’t enough to wipe them away, but it leads him to lean into your palm that conforms to his cheek so perfectly. Like he was made for you to hold him in the sweetest ways, some divine form created for you to love as surely as you do in this moment. 

The lithe muscles of his abdomen jump as your hands slide beneath the parted fabric of his kimono, warm palms pressing against his skin as you explore planes you haven’t given yourself nearly enough opportunities to indulge in. Beneath you, a shaking breath leaves him, catching in his throat as you untuck his clothing from his belt, then work at the knot keeping the remainder of his clothing cinched securely. 

“What are you-”

“Showing you. Making sure you don’t forget, that you never question for a single moment ever again what sort of meaning you have to me.” He tenses as you continue to tug at fabric, untucking and parting until he’s just indecent enough for you to wrap your hand around his half-hard arousal. All it takes is that single touch for him to moan low and slow, appreciative enough for his head to roll back to rest on the floor with a dull thud. Any apprehension leaves him with a gentle stroke of your hand. 

Leaning closer, enough that your intentions are obvious even as he can’t look anywhere but the ceiling rafters above, you speak close enough to his cock that your warm breath washes over it. He tenses, hardening in your palm as you hum, “I want to make you feel so good that every time you wonder how I might feel, you’ll remember this moment and your problems will go away.”

And the response in his throat dies as his cock finds a home on your tongue, from base to tip, dipping into the slit and tasting the beginnings of his release with a saltiness on your tongue. It’s far from unpleasant, and you find your lips wrapping around the head in search of more. There’s a scraping sound, grating in its insistence as his nails dig into the hardwood flooring. Both hands are straining, fingers shaking with the effort of keeping still for no real reason. 

Scaramouche resists for only a moment as you use your free hand to reach for his, squeezing it once before guiding him into resting his palm on your head. An open invitation, one that he doesn’t quite grasp yet as your tongue swirls circles that leave his breath ragged and hitching. It takes a single bob of your head, a taste of what he could demand from you, before he puts pressure against your scalp in encouragement. 

“Please…”

As if he would need to beg. All he’d need to do is say the word, make the motion, quietly demand anything from you and it would be his without complaint. It takes nothing more than that little push for you to follow his demands, the flat of your tongue dragging along skin that draws a high-pitched, needy groan from him that feeds the odd hunger you’re feeling. But you want more - need it - and let him set the pace of his cock feeding past your lips and over your tongue. 

Deeper and deeper, until your nose is brushing his pelvis and his fingernails are dangerously close to drawing blood against your scalp. It takes him a moment to gather himself, and when it does it’s with both hands on you - the one on your head, the other curled against your cheek. Craning his head, he looks down his body at you with a startling amount of reverence in his eyes, lips parted with the anticipation of words you’re certain you’ve been waiting your entire life to hear.

“I-I love you. I love you. So much-... ngh-... so much it hurts. I love you. So perfect, so beautiful, e-everything I’ve-” his words cut off sharply as his back arches, hips jerking enough that he buries himself to the hilt before letting you pull away. Every muscle in his body seems to shake with the effort of containing himself, the sensations manifesting as uncontrollable tears in his eyes that trail down his temples into his hair, matting it against itself. 

“Pleasepleaseplease-”

Both hands are what you need to hold him still, pressing down on his hips until he can’t roll himself upwards into the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your cheeks and tongue in search of the pleasure you’re offering him. There’ll be more time for him to be greedy later, to use you in whichever way he pleases. For now, there’s a point to be made, and that’s only done by you holding him still and worshipping him like he demanded be done not so long ago. 

“I-I’m going-... I can’t-”

Scaramouche throbs in your mouth, teetering on the edge physically and verbally. If he were any louder, you’re certain anyone would be able to hear him beyond these four walls. As the thought crosses your mind, so too does it strike him, as the hand on your cheek rips away in favor of slapping over his mouth to muffle the moan that accompanies him falling to pieces. 

Holding your breath and pushing yourself to your own limit, you take him whole and feel his release hit the back of your throat in a handful of steady bursts that come in time with him bucking against your iron-tight hold. Even muffled, the sounds that leave him are akin to some celestial song, ragged in its desperation and beckoning you to suck him further. Moans turn to groans turn to whimpers, hand falling away as he all but begs you to stop. 

You only do so when he grows soft on your tongue, his thighs shaking next to your head as his knees bend to curl in on himself. If you could get away with it, you’d hold him there and do it all over again, but a single glance at his face tells you that he’s spent. Red-cheeked, hair ruined, lashes thick with tears as he blinks toward the middle-distance lazily. 

He barely flinches as you tuck him away, righting his clothes enough that he’s decent. Even as you crawl up his body, settling yourself between his thighs and resting your cheek on his sternum. On anyone else, there’d be a heartbeat thudding in your ears - but all you hear is the remnants of his labored breathing, your head moving with the rise and fall of his chest. 

In a vain hope for the world to stop in its tracks, to give you a little longer in this moment, you murmur those magic words again. “I love you.”

Scaramouche doesn’t answer right away, though his hand does come up to curl around the back of your neck. He holds you there, fingers pressing gently against the muscles there, thumb moving in concentric circles that grow larger, then smaller. There’s no expectation for him to speak it again - once was enough. Once was all you’d need to hold on to for the sake of bringing yourself comfort. 

But despite his greed, Scaramouche can be rather generous when he wants to be. His own proclamation flutters over you like dandelion seeds, like sakura petals, like crystalflies that dance along your skin. 

“I love you. Centuries of life, and I’m convinced it was all meant for you.”

The years you’ve lived have been lost to time, their number far beyond your memory, especially after the tampering that happened while you slept for so long. But as he cranes his neck to press a kiss to the crown of your head, a subtle show of affection that holds immeasurable meaning, you can’t help but share the sentiment wholeheartedly. 

[saikokirakira]

Worshipped, not Bound (Jake Lockley x Bakunawa!Reader pt.2)

a/n: guess who's back on their Moon boi shenanigans? Me. I literally speed-wrote three parts in my attempts to procrastinate writing my Miguel O'Hara spicy WIP, so our favourite limo driver now has 4 parts in his introduction. also I quit my job. :))

Prev: IV. Jake pt.1 | Next: IV. Jake pt.3 | AU Masterlist

warnings: jake “the simp king” lockley origin story; angst as a sub-genre?; one-way intense pining; divorce babe; show's interpretation of DID; Tommy Wiseau joke; language / one (1) f-bomb; non-canon Philippine mythology

You returned to London with no problems.

Well, maybe two.

Marc and Steven.

Maybe Layla, but she didn’t return to London with Marc after the entire fiasco in Egypt.

It was cruel to make Steven and Marc think that you remained dead after releasing Bakunawa.

But it would be even crueler to bring them back into your world after they’ve been set free by Khonshu.

Still thinking about that twerp?

You rolled your eyes as the snake tattoo slithered around your hand while you raised your paintbrush to the easel.

It’s surprising how they didn’t even try to stop by in your workplace.

While Sidapa still had his glum demeanor, he definitely started picking up Bakunawa’s habit on being a pain in your ass.

We heard that.

“You were meant to.”

“What was that, dear?” your mentor called out from his desk.

“Nothing.”

“You should go get some rest. It’s quite late.”

You didn’t argue and began packing up.

Luckily you lived close to your work place. Just a half-hour walk.

But suddenly… you felt the scales under your skin out of instinct.

You looked up to the tops of one of London’s old buildings.

Nothing. Just the glow of the full moon.

A deep sigh left you at the sentimental sight.

For the rest of your walk, you refused to look at the sky.

 ...

Jake didn’t know why Khonshu wanted him to watch over you.

There were more better ways of him spending time while he was in control of his body.

Like finding where Harrow is for starters.

It wouldn’t be that hard to find the cultist harboring an equally murderous god in him if it was that easy to find you.

Jake tugged his cap lower to avoid the cameras as he snuck in the apartment building entrance before the door locked.

13th floor, Jake noted as he watched the lift stopped. He waited a beat before calling down the lift back down to follow you.

As the lift doors open…

“Oh, hi, Marc.”

Jake froze at the sight of you still in the lift, now smiling at him like catching his hand in the cookie jar.

Now, he was sitting in your living room with a good cup of joe with you in the loveseat across from him.

Where the hell was Khonshu?!

“How long have you been following me?”

“Two days.”

Damn it, why was he being honest?

“It’s good to see you.”

Jake swallowed heavily and kept his head down, hiding his eyes under his cap.

Probably not that honest.

“Did Steven tell you where to find me? Or was it Layla?”

Jake winced again.

While it was Marc who handed the divorce papers before all this happened, but now…

Layla did. All signed and delivered.

She wanted to stay in areas closer to Egypt, and Marc desperately wanted the freedom he’d been asking for since the beginning of being Khonshu’s slave.

It was a quick and easy process, and Marc barely put up a fight when the papers arrived.

It would’ve probably been different if Steven was around.

But Steven…

Steven hasn’t fronted since Cairo… wouldn’t even talk to Marc.

During the aftermath of the battle and Ammit was defeated, Steven just… faded away.

He was still in there but in a deep sleep.

If he only knew that Khonshu still had a hold of their body, Steven would know you were still alive.

But Jake wanted to keep you as his alone for a little while longer.

…

You watched Marc’s silent demeanor very carefully.

You expected him to be angry… or to at least be sarcastic with you.

Actually, you expected Steven to be the one to find you first.

You weren’t exactly hiding in the first place.

Something wasn’t quite right.

“Marc, why did you come looking for me?”

Finally… Khonshu appeared.

I need you to find Arthur Harrow for us.

Without hesitation, your scaled, armored claw had the stranger in a chokehold.

“Who the fuck are you?”

[bittwitchy]

Speak Now Taylor's Version Sentence Starters except its just the vault songs and better than revenge

change pronouns as necessary, combine lyrics if you want, yada yada, this is purely self indulgent tbh. BTR is here bc of the updated lyrics.

Better Than Revenge

"Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did" "time for a little revenge" "The story starts when it was hot and it was summer" "I had him right there where I wanted him" "She took him faster than you can say "Sabotage"" "I never saw it coming, wouldn't have suspected it" "I underestimated just who I was dealing with" "She had to know the pain was beating on me like a drum" "She underestimated just who she was stealing from" "She's not a saint and she's not what you think" "He was a moth to the flame" "She was holding the matches, woah" "she's gonna find stealing other people's toys on the playground won't make you many friends" "There is nothing I do better than revenge" "She looks at life like it's a party and she's on the list" "She looks at me like I'm a trend and she's so over it" "I think her ever-present frown is a little troubling" "She thinks I'm psycho 'cause I like to rhyme her name with things" "sophistication isn't what you wear or who you know" "pushing people down to get you where you wanna go" "they didn't teach you that in prep school so it's up to me" "But no amount of vintage dresses gives you dignity" "I'm just another thing for you to roll your eyes at, honey" "You might have him, but haven't you heard?" "I always get the last word" "Do you still feel like you know what you're doing?" "I don't think you do" "Let's hear the applause" "Come on, show me how much better you are"

Electric Touch (Feat. Fall Out Boy)

"Just breathe, just relax, it'll be ok" "Just the first time ever hanging out with you" "I've got my money on things going badly" "Got a history of stories ending sadly" "Still hoping that the fire won't burn me" "Just one time, just one time" "All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life" "Got a feeling your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life" "And I want you now, wanna need you forever" "In the heat of your electric touch" "I've been left in the rain lost and pining" "I'm trying hard not to look like I'm trying" "Cause every time I tried hard for love it fell apart" "I've gotten used to no one calling my phone" "I've grown accustomed to sleeping alone" "Still I know that all it takes is to get it right" "Just one time, just one time" "I was thinking just one time maybe the stars align" "And maybe I call you mine" "And you won't need space" "string me along when you decide"

when emma falls in love

"When ___ falls in love, she paces the floor" "Closes the blinds and locks the door" "Jokes about the ways that this could go wrong" "She waits and takes her time 'cause little miss sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain" "I know that boy will never be the same" "'Cause she's the kind of girl that you can't put down" "And all the bad boys would be good boys if they only had a chance to love her" "And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her" "Hangs in the air like stars in outer space" "she disappears, and we all just laugh after seein' it all these years" "When ___ falls apart, it's when she's alone" "She won't walk away unless she knows she absolutely has to leave" "She won’t lose herself in love the way I did" "'Cause she'll call you out, she'll put you in your place" "met a boy with eyes like a man" "Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand" "Now he'll be her shelter when it rains" "Little does he know, his whole world's about to change" "Yeah between me and you, sometimes I wish I was her"

I can see you

"I’ve been watching you for ages" "Spend my time tryin' not to feel it" "But what would you do if I went to touch you now?" "What would you do if they never found us out?" "What would you do if we never made a sound?" "'Cause I can see you waitin’ down the hall from me" "And I can see you up against the wall with me" "What would you do? Maybe if you only knew" "Then we kept everything professional, 'cause" "Something's changed something I like" "They keep watch for eyes on a stow" "So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet" "You won't believe half the things I see inside my bed" "Wait till you see half the things that haven't happened yet" "I can see you in your suit and your neck-tie" "Passed me a note saying, "Leave me tonight"" "Then you kissed and you know I won’t ever tell" "And I can see you being my addiction" "You can see me as a secret mission" "Right away and I will stop behaving myself"

Castles Crumbling (Feat Hayley Williams)

"Once, I had an empire in a golden age" "I was held up so high, I used to be great" "They used to cheer when they saw my face" "Now, I fear I have fallen from grace" "And I feel like my castle's crumbling down" "And I watch all my bridges burn to the ground" "And you don't want to know me, I will just let you down" "You don't wanna know me now" "Once, I was the great hope for a dynasty" "Crowds would hang on my words and they trusted me" "Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far" "I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart" "Power went to my head and I couldn't stop" "Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off" "And here I sit alone behind walls of regret" "Falling down like promises that I never kept" "My foes and friends watch my reign end" "I don't know how it could've ended this way" "Smoke billows from my ships in the harbor" "People look at me like I'm a monster" "Now they're screaming at the palace front gates" "Used to chant my name" "Now they're screaming that they hate me" "Never wanted you to hate me"

Foolish One

"My cards are on the table, yours are in your hands" "Chances are tonight you've already got plans" "And chances are I will talk myself to sleep again" "You give me just enough attention to keep my hopes too high" "Wishful thoughts forget to mention when something's really not right" "And I will block out these voices of reason in my head" "And the voices say, "You are not the exception"" "You will never learn your lesson, foolish one" "Stop checking your mailbox for confessions of love that ain't never gonna come" "You will take the long way, you will take the long way down" "You know how to keep me waiting," "I know how to act like I'm fine" "Don't know what to call this situation but I know I can't call you mine" "And it's delicate, but I will do my best to seem bulletproof" "'Cause when my head is on your shoulder it starts thinking you'll come around" "And maybe someday when we're older this is something we'll laugh about" "Now I'm sliding down the wall with my head in my hands" "How could I not see the signs?" "Oh, you haven't written me or called" "But goodbye screaming in the silence" "And the voices in my head are telling me why" "'Cause you got her on your arm and me in the wings" "I'll get your longing glances but she'll get your ring" "And you will say you had the best of intentions" "And maybe I will finally learn my lesson" "Ain't never gonna come" "Ooh, you will learn the hard way now" "Sitting 'round waiting for confessions of love, they ain't never gonna come" "you should've been walking out" "The day is gonna come for your confessions of love, when all is said and done" "He just wasn't the one, no, he just wasn't the one"

Timeless

"Down the block there's an antique shop" "something in my head said stop, so I walked in" "On the counter was a cardboard box" "And the sign said, 'Photos twenty five cents each" "Black and white, saw a thirties bride and school lovers laughing on the porch of their first house" "The kinda love that you can only find once in a lifetime" "The kind you don't put down" "And that's when I called you and it's so hard to explain, but in those photos I saw us instead" "somehow I know that you and I would've found each other" "In another life, you still would've turned my head" "On a crowded street in 1944" "you werе headed off to fight in the war" "You still would've been mine" "We would have been timeless" "I would've read your love letter every single night" "prayed to God you'd be coming home all right" "you would've been fine" "We would have been timeless" "'Cause I believe that we were supposed to find this" "So even in a different life, you still would've still been mine" "I had to smile when it caught my eye" "There was one of a teenage couple on the driveway" "Holding hands on the way to a dance and the date on the back said 1958" "Which brought me back to the first day I saw you" "Time stood still like something in this old shop" "I thought about it as I started looking 'round at these precious things that time forgot" "That's when I came upon a book covered in cobwebs" "Story of a romance tore apart by fate" "Hundreds of years ago they fell in love like we did" "And I'd die for you in the same way" "In the fifteen hundreds off in a foreign land" "And I was forced to marry another man" "Time breaks down your mind and body" "Don't you let it touch your soul" "It was like an age old classic" "The story started when you said "hello"" "In a crowded room a few short years ago" "And sometimes there's no proof, you just know" "I'm gonna love you when our hair is turning grey" "We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we made" "And you'll say, "Oh my, we really were timeless""

[tearfest]

plot based starter call! like for a starter based on one of the plots under the cut that i would absolutely Die for < 3 feel free to pick a specific one in the replies/im's, but if not i'll just choose @ random!

ring girl x ufc fighter plot — added drama of her having a bf n it's all hush hush at first bc they met through work ! m/f or f/f

peaky blinder x royalty vibes for matilda — set in 1920s birmingham — she's gotten super close to one of the shelby brothers (or anyone remotely criminal), maybe they're using her for intel to sell or just so their family has more of a hand in the countries ongoings n whats happening kinda vibe ! m/f or f/f

poly relationships of any kind — bf n gf living together with a roommate but they both fancy them so they end up throupling ? vibes ! a love triangle where the girl cant pick between 2 best friends but its okay because they're more than happy to share ? luv it ! poly poly poly &lt; 3

age gap sapphic plot for luna — she's a former choir singer turned freshly debuted idol/soloist and ur muse is a well respected female celebrity that luna idolises and adores but in a I Want You way .. cue her pining over ur muse and following them around like a lovesick puppy &lt; 3

an arrange marriage historical plot — a princess being shipped off to another country to marry the heir to the throne! could be with her future husband or her new knight / his dad for drama !

a plot where muse a is dating muse b's son but muse b is secretly in love with muse a and there's tension n chemistry n hesitation (f/f pref)

a plot where muse a and muse b's moms are the best of friends and have been since they can remember but muse a and muse b despise each other but they're always at the same events bc their mums always drag them along n ! enemies to lovers trope basically ! f/f or m/f

okay but a poly ship w 2 really cute girls who were literally sent down to be the angel n devil on ur shoulder except they both fell in love with u and bicker constantly about what's best for u but love u endlessly and would 1000% die for u plot please !

super hero plots ! villain x hero , hero x innocent bystander they saved , villain x kidnapped victim , etc !

[ncrthernl1ghts]

fuck it. TAG DUMP: STANFORD PINES

[pokemonbiologyirlthetabletop]

Snom & Frosmoth

Glaciestinea infansnix (Snom)

Glaciestinea elegansnix (Frosmoth)

Snom (#872)

Snoms are an ice/bug-type larval Pokémon that hatch in the fall. They average at around 8.4 pounds (3.8 kg) and are a foot tall. When they sleep, they extrude threads from its little mouth to anchor themselves to a branch, disguising themselves as an icicle.

Habitat: Snoms are found in cold climate zones, places that experience below freezing temperatures for at least 65 days a year collectively. The mother Frosmoth lays her eggs in a cold cave during the late summer, where she hides from the heat in that cave and protects her brood. They are found throughout the northern hemisphere.   

Life Cycles: Snoms hatch from their eggs at the onset of autumn, typically around late September/early October. The entire brood will hatch within a short period of time together. During the time they were eggs, their Frosmoth mother had been guarding over them almost the entire time, and she continues to care for them at least for the first few days after hatching. As the many Snoms venture outside the cave to explore and eat and even make friends, the Frosmoth eventually leaves the ice cave to go and continue her own life.

 

Snoms are highly susceptible to predation by anything that would be inclined to eat an ice-covered caterpillar, and most will not survive to evolution. They will spend the fall and winter consuming food and bonding with other Pokémon, including each other. If a Snom does not evolve by the time winter is over, which greatly increases predation risks as the winter snow disappears, then they will often try to return to the ice cave that they were born in and hibernate through the summer. Frosmoths rarely turn away Snoms from their caves.

Behavior: Because Snoms evolve through high friendship, they are in fact quite amicable creatures that readily bond with friendly Pokémon and trainers! This bonding also increases their survival rate, too, as a Snom who successfully bonds with another Pokémon or trainer are less likely to be eaten by predators. This amicability also makes Snoms truly excellent companions for trainers!

Diet: Snoms eat snow and ice! Well, actually, they eat the micro-organisms inside of the snow and ice. In absence of snow and ice, Snoms can also be given very cold water. They will also eat larger things like fir and pine needles, cones, and junipers, but they cannot grow up healthy and strong without snow and ice to eat, as the ice helps strengthen their spikes and keeps their internal temperatures cool.

Conservation: Least Concern

Relationship with Humans: Snoms are a frequent starter Pokémon in the upper regions of the world, such as Canada, Siberia, Alaska, and so forth. They are much beloved Pokémon, and there is even a brand of candies called Gummi Snoms that originates from Eastern Europe. These gummies are quite popular, coming in a variety of flavors and colors, and all of them in a delicious sour coating!

 

As with many Pokémon that are common and weak, Snoms are often used as bait for hunters, trappers, fishers, illegal dog fighting, and more. They are easy to breed, easy to hatch, easy to catch, and easy to raise, which makes them perfect for such purposes.

Snoms and Frosmoth are both highly studied Pokémon.

 

Classification: Snom and Frosmoth are distantly related to Larvesta and Volcarona, though the split occurred before the onset of the last ice age.

 

Frosmoth (#873)

Frosmoths are ice/bug types that average at 4’03 feet tall (1.3 M) and 92.6 pounds (42 kg). They are the evolved form of Snom, who evolve into Frosmoth with high friendship at night. The scales from their wings may fall like glittering snow as they fly over fields and mountains. The temperature of its wings is less than -290 F. While usually crossed and obscured, Frosmoths do actually have paws with little heart-shaped pads at the end! When in use, they emerge as little hearts on their chest.

Habitat: Frosmoths are found in cold climates throughout the northern hemisphere, but do not seem to proliferate in areas that experience less than 2 months of below-freezing temperatures.

Life Cycles: Once a Frosmoth evolves from a Snom, it becomes reproductively viable and it will begin the process of seeking suitable mates. Female Frosmoths will mate with as many other Frosmoths as they can find with little discretion on sex in order to increase the genetic variation of their own offspring. Mating/courtship usually occurs during the dead of winter into Spring, and eggs are laid in clutches of 150-300 at a time. The female Frosmoth will guard her eggs until they hatch, only leaving her ice cave on rare occasions to feed when the temperatures are low, but these occasions greatly increase predation risks on her eggs.

Behavior: Frosmoths are quite amicable with each other and to other non-predatorial Pokémon, and wild Frosmoths have even been known to let trustworthy trainers take their eggs because a Snom under trainer care is near-guaranteed survival compared to wild ones. In the wild, Frosmoths mate with eachother rather indiscriminately, which also serves the function of increasing inter-species bonding and encourages male Frosmoths to be protective of Snoms, too.

In preparation for the summer, Frosmoths will find a suitably cold cave to hide in and nest for the summer. Often they use their own ice powers to manipulate the air around them, creating a microhabitat within the cave so that they may rest peacefully as their eggs gestate. Some Frosmoths will share ice caves.

 Mother Frosmoths will take care of her baby Snoms for the first few days after hatching, but once they start leaving her cave she becomes unable to keep an eye on all of them and lets them live their lives, and she leaves to continue her own life. Their babies may be small and fragile and delicious to predators, but if a Frosmoth happens to be nearby, they will defend that Snom from predators.

Diet: Frosmoths eat lichens, moss, conifer needles, and nectar. They are a pollinator for many arctic flowers. Trainers can feed them specialty Pokémon food (made available from many companies!) as substitute for a natural diet, but you should still take your Frosmoth outside and let it enjoy some fir needles or something. As both Frosmoth and Snoms enjoy tree needles, they can be quite a pain for Christmas tree farms.

Conservation: Least Concern

Relationship with Humans: Throughout human history, it seems there has been a relatively low rate of Frosmoth and Snom predation by humanity. At most, Frosmoth fluff has been used for cold-weather insulation and occassionally eaten by the desperate, but by and large it seems humans have found Frosmoths to be unappetizing and not worth the effort. Which doesn't mean they're not ever eaten by humans, just not typically, and when they are the Snoms are usually seen as the much easier target than the Frosmoth. Instead of direct consumption, Snoms were historically used as bait for larger creatures, and in regions where this is still practiced the Frosmoths are quite hostile to humans.

Because of their little heart-shaped paws, Frosmoths are sometimes utilized in love-themed imagery.

Frosmoths are excellent defenders of remote mountains and forests, and many rangers utilize and work with Frosmoths in defending their homelands from invading threats.

Like many fully-evolved bug Pokémon, Frosmoths are common enough Pokémon on the teams of trainers in the regions that they frequent. They are seen as easy to raise and generally agreeable to co-habitating with others.

~~~~~~~~

Hey guess what, if you like my stuff, this is my website where you can find other Pokémon I've written on and more information about the game that I’m slowly making! Check it out! I write books sometimes too.

[t-am-i-the-asshole]

AITA For calling my wife out for never doing the hard chores

My wife (40F) and I (39M) have been married for 7 years and have 2 kids (4 & 2). We both work full time but have different schedules. I work a standard M-F 40-hour week. My wife's job requires her to work Saturdays so she takes random days off during the week to compensate. Both our kids are in daycare during the week.

When my wife takes a day off during the week, she will get chores done like cleaning, shopping, laundry, etc. Which is great that she can get that stuff done on her off days. But these are things that can also be done on the weekend. She will leave other, more labor-intensive chores for me to do on the weekend. We have a 1-acre yard so there is always yardwork to be done. And it is nearly impossible for me to do that kind of work on Saturdays when she's at work and I have the kids.

I've talked to her numerous times about doing yardwork on her days off when I'm at work and the kids are in daycare. But she refuses because "it's too hard." Which, yeah, I know. I'm the only one who does it. It's even harder when you're chasing around 2 kids. This means that I have to spend pretty much my entire Sunday doing yardwork. Every single week.

We've argued because she gets a work and kid-free day to herself to get things done. But she picks the easiest chores and leaves the hard ones for me to do on my one remaining weekend day. I work M-F, then have the kids by myself all day Saturday. I just want to spend some time on Sunday watching football and relaxing. But I can't because of the yardwork.

This past week, my wife took Thursday off and got some chores done. When I got home with the kids that night, she made some comments that pissed me off. She kept saying "We still need to mow the lawn this weekend." "We need to trim some bushes and trees and bring the brush to the yard waste site." "I think we should rake up all the fallen pine needles and pinecones to use as fire-starters."

I snapped at her and asked her which of those things she was going to do, since she kept saying "we." She got defensive and said that she is going to be watching the kids so that I can g

et that stuff done. I told her that I think she is using the word "we" incorrectly then, because it sounds like I'm going to be the one doing all of it.

She then went off about all the things she got done on her day off. When I told her that I could do all of those things on Saturday, even with the kids, but she refuses to do any of the hard stuff. I then asked her if she could tell me the last day she had the kids by herself when I wasn't home. She couldn't answer and called me a jerk.

I told her if I can learn to fold a fitted sheet, then she can learn how to use a rake, a lawnmower, a weed whip, etc. I also told her that I am going to start planning things for myself on weekends so that I have my own time, even if it means hiring a sitter.

She thinks I'm overreacting and expecting too much of her because the yard work is hard.

[unhinged-summer-fun]

flicker

(Max Phillips x F!Reader) | 22+

Rating: Mature (no smut, but foulmouthed language)

Word Count: 7817 (it wouldn’t let me stop writing)

Summary: You’re Max’s personal assistant. He needs you for a lot of things. Wants you for more.

Warnings: pining, nonchalant mentions of murder, etc., reader gets sick for a few paragraphs but not graphically. max is a perv. <3

A/N: this is my first reader insert fic!! Hope ya like it. Also, read/kudos on AO3.

“No, mom, I’m not an indentured servant to my boss. I’m just interested in doing a good job and building my career!” You shut the door to the car with one hip and scowl at the dusty mark left behind on your skirt. Damn it. “Quit trying to talk me out of a decision I made over two months ago!”

Your mother’s tirade of a response spills out into the air, as your face-grip on your phone fails and the device clicks to the speakerphone. “—You don’t need to serve another person to feel a sense of worth, honeybun.” You know arguing with the nickname would only make things worse.

“Everyone works for someone, mom. And I work for—”

“Need a hand with that?” Speak of the devil.

Your mom continues to prattle on until you give a clipped “gotta go” and hang up. You’re frozen in that moment, arms full of grocery bags and your purse and Max’ Saturday drink order. It’s his day off, but not yours, so you get to see him dressed down, comfortable. His broad shoulders are barely contained in a worn blue college tee shirt in a language you can’t read, and low-rise jeans that probably cost more than your monthly rent payment. The sudden glint of his shiny white teeth breaks you from your reverie.

“No, sir, I’ve got it. Perhaps the door, though?”

“Sure thing, honeybun.” A sudden flood of conflicting emotions replaces a flush of instinctual irritation. Max was a pervert at the best of times, and a walking HR disaster every morning he came in. Hearing that long-hated pet name on the same lips that called you sweet thing and sugartits like they were your name should have made you feel cool indifference, but this was suddenly more personal than all that. This was what your mother called you when she wanted to butter you up to bad news.

So really, you should have watched your step a little better.

When you fall, there’s half a second of breathtaking panic, the tip of your shoe having hit a white concrete step and sending you crashing down like a battle-axe. The latter half of that second is weightless wonder, a sudden presence of muscular arms pulling you from your rendezvous with the ground and steadying you at the next step. Max had been nearly at the front door when you’d taken your first step, but had used his supernatural vampire speed to come help you when you fell.

“Alright?” He asks, his breath just a little too soft for it to be genuine concern. You can feel the barest brush of his lips on the shell of your ear, and you wonder if it was just your imagination when he pulls back, as cool as he’d been just a moment ago. Seduction is half of what he does every workday. You shouldn’t be so affected by this. You nod, unsure if any words you might say would come out moaned and breathless. Max seems to pick up on your affect with a grin made of thick molasses: slow and dark and so sweet it makes you sick to see it so close. Luckily, the next few minutes pass in a blur, setting groceries and coffee down on the kitchen island and Max’ coffee table, respectively.

As his personal assistant, your duties aren’t tied to that of the company he works for. If he needed an executive assistant, he’d have one Turned and on payroll. But no. He wanted someone to handle the tedious parts of life he still had to deal with, though his life had ended years ago. That meant getting him groceries, driving his car to get detailed, making personal appointments and sending thank-you notes, picking up and sending out dry cleaning, meeting his weed guy, retrieving expensive coffee from the vamp café in downtown, for starters. Occasionally you had to incinerate a duffel bag of bloody belongings, but cognitive dissonance and extreme discretion had been skill requirements on the job posting.

There were downsides, but none of them were to do with his personality or attitude or undead status. Sometimes his vampire cohorts would try to enchant you, threaten to kill or turn or drink from you, and whenever Max was around, he was sure to put an end to that. When he wasn’t around, a simple pair of bewitched silver earrings and a matching choker he’d bought you seemed to do the trick. You had no intentions of becoming a vampire, and Max had no intentions of turning you. There was only so much fake tan that could conceal his true nature, and there were many things you could do that he couldn’t.

“Nearly had to gut a guy for these, so you better enjoy them.” You hold up the last box of farmers’ market strawberries, ripe and red and tempting.

“Gimme,” he says, abandoning his drink and crowding your space to pluck the strawberries out of your hands. You frown at his back when he turns to wash them in the sink. Normally, Max is very good about letting you do your job free of his help. Grocery day had its own routine, but he seemed adamant about his hard-won fruit.

You put the rest of the food away, and toss the expired things out of the fridge. It had taken quite a bit of unimpressed eyebrow raises to get Max to use the plastic bins for his blood bags, but you’re pleased to see he’s using the system you’d set up for him. He’s reaching for a bowl when you turn around to fold the bags, and you glimpse a tan, smooth stomach. You know the ab-building pills and devices he sells are bullshit, but for a hysterical moment you think he’s the perfect poster boy for it.

“I can cut those up for you, if you’d like,” you offer. He locks eyes with you and— fuck. There’s that molasses grin again, like he knows all your secrets and then some.

“You know I like to use my teeth,” Max says in that low rasp you can’t help but shuddering at whenever you hear it. You know that he’s using his seduction voice, his come climb on my lap voice. Unfortunately, for the relationship you have with him, he can act however he wants, and you have to remain professional. That fact is made even more abundantly clear when he continues, “Honeybun.”

You force a smile over your scowl, which lights up his dark eyes with amusement. You’ll kick yourself for showing even that barest bit of annoyance. He was a salesman long before he was a vampire. Leverage is his second language.

“Is there anything you need me to handle before I start my rounds, Mr. Phillips?” You ask in a curt tone.

“You’ve got a bit of dirt, here,” he says, moving faster than you can track with your eyes. He’s on you, or close to it, and his hand rests heavily over where you’d bumped your dusty car with your hip. He truly misses nothing. His hand is warm, somehow. You don’t know how, and don’t really care how, but for a single moment, all the porn you’d cum to, all the fantasies which had filled your bored mind, they all surge to the forefront of your thoughts and catch your tongue. Max’ tongue, however, never stops. “Maybe you should take it off while you do your chores.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say on reflex, your core throbbing, crying, would have punched you if it had the means, because you rest your fingers over his wrist and remove it from your hip. “Enjoy your snack, sir.”

“Not sure it’ll fill me,” Max says, mostly to himself, but you know his words are calculated and deliberate. Deliberate in that he wants to pull that blush to your cheeks. He wants to see your throat bob with a rough swallow. He wants to hear your heart pound, your pulse race. He wants to see you fight all of that in the name of professionalism. He wants, he wants, he wants. He’s not a cruel man, but he is an insufferable tease.

And you curse yourself every day for liking it.

You catch your breath at the far end of his house. The housekeeper wouldn’t keep her mouth shut when she’d seen the blood, so you were stuck with doing the grunt work. Max thankfully put a tarp out for when he knew he’d be messy and kept the massive orgies to company property. The routine once again calmed your nerves, and you found solace in the cradle of his belongings within minutes.

You hardly see him whenever you work in the house, partly because you snapped at him not to micromanage and partly because he was almost never there. Whenever he had days off, Max liked to get out of town and drive. To where, you don’t know, because you never asked. Some people just needed solitude, but in a big postmodern monstrosity like his house, loneliness echoed and reflected on oneself a hundred times louder than it started out.

He isn’t old enough to have lost touch with the life he lived before, but you know that having his family ice him out after learning of his affliction hurts him even now, seven years on. He still looks like most new grad students, if better slept, and with all his success in business you’re not surprised. With as mercurial and opinionated as your mother is, she’d probably do the same as Max’ family, despite the affection she lords over you.

You’d been in the house yesterday afternoon, so most of what you’d cleaned is still spotless. Max hadn‘t had anyone over for dinner, so there was no bleach cycle to run. You did, however, take your skirt off for a moment to rub at the dirt while in the laundry room, but you worked fast.

Not fast enough.

It seems like Max Phillips has an innate sense of finding women in states of undress, and you have barely three seconds of time between hearing his approaching voice and the turn of the handle on the laundry room door. He cuts off his own question - something about frozen mangos and a blender replacement - when he sees your flustered expression, hears the rabbit-quick thump of your pulse. “What’s this?” He says, the hint of another smirk on his face.

“Was there something you needed?” You ask, rushed and a little breathless.

He keeps his eyes on you, raking up and down your form. “No.” The smirk emerges. You prepare for some other smart statement, but it never comes.

Your knees shake once he leaves the doorway. “Fuck,” you whisper into your hands. Your mind is already supplying suggestions of what he’d look like if he actually saw you in just your blouse and panties, how the lick of desire would spark in his eyes, how he’d push his bottom lip out into a point when he was actually trying to hide a smile. How his fangs would grow just a little, helpless to hunger like a fledgling creature of the night.

The rest of your chores go quick, and after a quick last-check, you grab your purse. “I’ve finished for the day, Mr. Phillips. I’ll be uptown most of the evening, if you need anything else.”

“Great,” he says, following you to the door. He opens it for you, guiding you out with a small push of his hand against the small of your back. “Drive safe.”

“Thank you, sir. I will.” You can’t wait to put this weird day behind you and just get a drink to forget it. 

You make it all the way to the car before Max makes that impossible.

“Honeybun?” He asks, all fake nonchalance. “Your skirt is on backwards.”

##

You seriously, seriously consider faking your own death instead of getting up for work. If it weren’t for your boss having carte blanche access to your apartment and knowing what ‘dead’ actually looked like, you might have even gotten away with it. Still, the stupid sniffles make you reconsider a dirt nap. Max never seems to get sick, even when he eats really sick people. Perhaps he meant a different kind of sick.

Your head feels stuffed with cotton balls and your sinuses feel like water balloons. The comparison only seems to make more sense as you toss away another soggy tissue in disgust. You pull up your calendar, which is just Max’ calendar, and wince in the bright light. He’s meeting with other vamps for a social lunch, which, inexplicably, requires your presence. As if he knows you’re thinking about him, you get a text notification.

MP: Still on for our 1pm?

You’d seen what your name was in his phone, once. Considering he treats that thing like it’s a third hand, you aren’t worried about someone seeing him texting ‘Sugar Tits On Demand’ about his dry cleaning bill, but you’re still fairly annoyed with him about it. He hasn’t changed it. You expect he’d change it to something worse if you told him to. You sigh and check the clock. 10:30. You indulge in a moment of petty emotion, kicking your feet in a little tantrum and pouting. Why does the bed feel so comfortable now that you have to leave it?

You: Yes.

You can’t put any more effort into the message, which he notices. His response is almost instantaneous.

MP: What’s wrong? You don’t want me to drive you?

You’d expressed discomfort with being around so many other vampires, and having no personal means of escape, but that had been a few weeks ago. Obviously, your lack of a prompt response is enough to make him call you, his stupid fangy contact picture filling the screen. You groan once more at the ceiling and answer. “Yes, Mr. Phillips?” you ask, not even attempting to hide your state from him.

“You sound like you got hit by a truck. You go out drinking last night, honeybun?” He says after a long moment of silence.

You mute the phone to scream briefly into your pillow, before responding, “No, it’s just a cold. I can still go to lunch.”

“You do know that sick days are meant to be taken when you’re sick, right?”

“Don’t be a micromanager,” you scoff before freezing up. Did you just say that to your boss? “I—”

A bark of laughter screeches through your phone, and you hold the receiver out from your ear, wincing.

“Don’t be a manager, she says. No. You’re taking a sick day. Have fun~!”

“Mr. Phillips, you need me to go to this lunch with you, you were very intent on that!” you protest.

“I’ve got a whole afterlife to reschedule. You don’t.” It seems so simple a statement, so unquestioningly true, that it makes you startle. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, eyes staring straight ahead at the wall like it’d have the answers painted there. “See you tomorrow, honeybun.” Click.

“You bastard,” you whisper, before getting up for a hot shower.

Stubbornly, you fight sleep and rest while stuck at home, cleaning your apartment with the same intensity you’d clean Max’ house. Of course, you have none of the spectacular views of the valley, none of the modern amenities, no pool to relax at, so you just end up scowling at your dingy rug and adding to Mount Kleenex tissue by tissue. Your anger and exhaustion war against one another for hours, until you hear the door to your apartment unlock. Panic freezes in your veins for a heart-stopping moment before you remember the only other person who has a key is—

“Honeybun!”

Oh.

Max pokes his head through the door. “I’ve brought you human food.” The rest of his body follows, still in his work suit.

“Thanks for specifying,” you say with a withering glare. You can’t even feel embarrassed at being caught in your pajamas. You feel awful.

He sets down a brown paper bag, and due to your sickness, you can’t smell what he’d brought. You creep forward, but he waves you off. “Go sit. You should be resting. I may not have caught a cold in nearly a decade, but I still remember this part. Sit.”

You do as he says, reluctantly. As strange as it is to see him here, in your apartment, you are a little too fog-headed to have thought of getting yourself food. He comes over with a warm tub of wonton soup, humming and grinning to himself. The soup feels amazing against your chest, and you can almost smell it through the mess of your sinuses. “You didn’t have to do this,” you say weakly.

“No, I didn’t. Look how good of a boss I’m being.” He’s smug, of course, but this is something else. You just scoff and roll your eyes. What a ham. At least you get food out of it. Super.

To your continued surprise, he stays. He sits on your lone armchair like it’s a throne and doesn’t even put his feet up on the coffee table. Your exhaustion grows after finishing the soup, and you’d find it suspect if he hadn’t promised the soup was un-drugged, and he hadn’t used his command voice on you. “I’m sorry about the lunch, Max,” you say softly, putting your head on a throw pillow. The pout you’d indulged in earlier is clawing its way back onto your face.

His face doesn’t so much soften as it does flicker, the mask of smugness and haughtiness falling away for just a moment to reveal something soft and squishy and a little more human than either of you were expecting. The smirk is back on his face after that momentary lapse, but it seems hollow now. “Well, I’m sure you’re suffering enough for making me miss it, so just internalize that for me, wouldja?”

You shake your head and laugh, feeling sleep wrap her arms around you, pulling you from the conversation and any further thought on what that flicker meant. “Whatever you say, boss.”

He’s predictably gone when you wake up, the sun having gotten low in the sky. Disoriented, you float through your apartment, unsure of what you’re searching for until you find something out of the ordinary. It’s simple, more trash in the bin, a spoon in the sink, a picture nudged out of place on your bookshelf, but they stick in your throat a little. They’re signs of life, you realize. Signs that Max had left his mark on your home, had held that old picture of you at 12 and your fat tabby cat. He’d rubbed his thumb over your face, a soft smudge in the dust where you hadn’t cleaned earlier. You hold the picture softly, no longer feeling that sense of nostalgia and happy memories which came with seeing the picture. You instead see an oval smudge, half a fingerprint, and your expression.

You catch the flicker when the expression departs abruptly.

“Fuck.”

##

The next morning, you feel much better. It’s probably because of the near-lethal amounts of DayQuil you’d ingested, but you’re determined to get out of your apartment, and away from that smudged photo frame. You have a blood latte (which you’ve taken to calling blattes in the privacy of your own mind) in one hand, and a water bottle in the other, as you stalk through the cubicles toward the door marked Max Phillips, Sales Manager. The blinds are open, which had become a more frequent occurrence as soon as the employee uprisings had been quelled.

He doesn’t look up from his desk when you let yourself in, bent over a file and frowning at what he’s reading. You set his drink down on the coaster. “Anyone give you any trouble?” he asks, though he knows the answer. Vampires somehow hate the taste of DayQuil and avoid the recently-dosed population. Still, the seventeen-dollar blatte normally draws a few hungry growls from the sales floor.

“Not today.” Or at least, you hope so. The cold had moved from sinus pressure to ear pressure and fucked with your hearing a bit. Perhaps there was a rumble of a growl you just hadn’t heard. Max takes his drink and looks up at you.

“How are you feeling today?” Two inquiries about your state in five minutes. You must have taken too much DayQuil.

“I’m doing much better. I think you caught me on the upswing of whatever I had.” A lie, but Max was kind enough to not call you on it.

Wait. Asking how you are and not calling you on your bullshit? Something fishy was afoot, and it wasn’t sea-sirens.

“Good,” he says before sipping his drink. He groans. “Worth every damn penny I reimburse you for.”

“Glad to hear it,” you respond. “Have you gotten a reschedule for your lunch?”

“Jerome has moved it to a dinner, tonight.”

“Same attendees?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Well, I’ll be there.”

You wish you hadn’t said that. 

Brunello’s is one of three vampire-run restaurants in the city. The others are the café you visit most mornings, and a takeout place Max is banned from visiting. But Brunello’s isn’t on that tier at all. Grigor Brunello, a 350-year-old vampire from Long Island, knows that the appeal to becoming immortal lies in the ability to get really fucking dressed up for no reason. The whole restaurant is done up in heavy velvet curtains and polished candlesticks and bone china and pure gold cutlery, and the menu features dishes for the undead and the not-yet-dead. Grigor had caused quite a stir with his management style, though not the way Max had. He understood that finding solace in a world that sought to kill you and your vampire brethren meant making quite a few sacrifices. The older vampires don’t even try to charm their way into a human’s bloodstream these days. They usually like to bite first, and pay the bill later.

Grigor doesn’t tolerate that.

So that’s why you’re here, on Max’s arm like a leashed pet, though you know it’s really the other way around. If a vampire is mannered enough to get a human to agree to dinner, then we get a reservation. It’s like saying, “look how well-behaved I am, this human trusts me.” If that guest is killed or harmed, they banned the vamp responsible for all eternity from Brunello’s restaurant chain. We can’t have nice things if we don’t play nice, Max had explained. The first time you’d come to one of his meetings here, you’d fainted in Max’ car right before going in, but after, you were surprised. You hadn’t been able to pick out the humans from the non-humans until they started making jokes and telling stories of events a hundred years in the past.

You wonder, sometimes, if Grigor approves of Max’ business methods, or if they’d studied in Romania together. You can picture Max’ aghast face, at your suggestion that he socializes willingly with culinary arts majors. Also, the inevitable “that’s so offensive, just because I’m a vampire doesn’t mean I know every other vampire out there.”

Thoughts of the hypothetical type are shaken off as you step past the velvet rope to the inside of the restaurant. The splendor and the dim lighting both require a moment to adjust to, which Max expects with a slight pause in your footsteps. A maître d’ seems to materialize out of thin air, smiling in that same insufferable way you associate with vampires past their fledgling years. “Mr. Phillips, your table is this way. May I take the lady’s coat?”

“Thank you,” you say coolly, shrugging out of the thick shawl around your shoulders and handing it to the coat-check attendant. Max had coached you in the art of Acting Like You’re Made Of Money, and you swear you can feel the pride radiating off of him from your side.

Past the other tables of the supernatural and their human tickets, you’re led to a private room in back, where most of Max’ vampiric business meetings take place.

“Maxy!” a booming voice sounds suddenly, making you jump and a couple of forks clatter to plates around you. A gigantic man walks through the room with an almost palpable confidence and ease.

“Grigor,” Max says in greeting, going for a handshake and getting a hug instead. You watch with barely concealed amusement. Grigor sets Max down and lets him dust off his suit and put himself back together.

“It’s been too long! I heard you were supposed to be here yesterday for lunch! I served that duck dish you like.” Your face flames in embarrassment at the reminder that you’re the reason everything rescheduled.

“Had a conflict come up at work. Nothing serious, just needed all my attention.” You’re always impressed by how easily Max can pull off a lie of omission. He has little to no secrets from you, as keeping information from you makes your job harder and therefore, his life harder. So you got to see his delicate wordsmithing in action, a delight.

“I’m glad you’re here tonight. Jerome has requested quite the spread for your group.” Max takes your arm again, pretending to play escort despite you being able to choose to walk away, and he’d follow. You feel the tension in his bicep.

“Best not keep him waiting much longer than a day and a half,” you say pointedly, knowing you two are probably minutes from being late. Grigor turns his eyes on you.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Make sure he behaves, will you?” He says with a wink. You give a nod and a smile, and he’s gone. Max somewhat deflates against your side, tension you hadn’t felt build now dissipating.

“Something wrong?” You ask once you’re out of the middle of the dining room, but not quite through the doors to the back.

“No, just. No.” Max shakes his head and takes an unneeded breath. He looks like he wants to say more, but changes his mind the last second, going for the door. How strange.

Jerome and his human husband are waiting at the small cocktail bar in the corner of the private room. Several other couples cluster around the room, and twelve place settings are laid at the grand table at the center of the room. Your entrance is met with ten pairs of eyes, a tense pause, and an approaching Jerome.

“Max,” the vampire says, greeting him with a handshake. This is more obviously familiar to your boss, and he shakes the hand comfortably. Jerome greets you by name as well, before taking your hand and laying a kiss across your knuckles. You’d been flustered and discomforted by the attention the first time you met, but at 98, you couldn’t fault Jerome for his habits. It suited the atmosphere, certainly.

“It’s nice to see you again,” you say politely, and catch a grin from Jerome. His husband comes up and greets you both as well, salt-and-pepper in his hair and love clear in his eyes.

Max seems a little on-edge, but you can’t place why. Perhaps he thinks you’re going to faint again. You small-talk for the both of you, leaving him to think about the business to be discussed soon.

Not all of Max’ business dealings were in miracle products and snake oil. Most of the immortal scene liked to ensure a healthy sense of community and growth. Vampires hadn’t warred for hundreds of years, and because of this modern mentality of civility through monstrosity, they thrived. Jerome is kind of the chapter head of the vampire clans in your state. He likes to check in and make sure things are being run well, and in line with a better future. Vampire businesses had voluntary non-compete clauses with one another, and a wide network of assistance. Jerome was even trying to set up a community college similar to the Romanian university Max had attended. Business dinners like this were full of doublespeak and agreements that were made and adjusted so quickly it flew over your head. In all fairness, your duties here were simply to exist and be alive, while Max did the legwork.

You could handle that.

They assigned seating at random, though there was always a human between two vampires, and vice versa. Though the vampire community wasn’t officially ‘out’ to humans, they encouraged socialization and diversity in opinion. Tonight, you sit between a beautiful artist visiting from New York whom you hadn’t met before, and a guidance counselor for a night school in the next town over. The artist introduced themself as Terra, and points out their human sitting serendipitously next to Max at the other end of the table. “Fox is my muse,” Terra says, swooning a little. You can’t help but enjoy the affectionate look they send the stoic man.

“Have you taken him to many dinners like this?” You ask interestedly.

“Oh yes, he’s just always like that. He’s so paranoid, since his divorce.”

“Oh?” the guidance counselor to your right says, leaning nearly on top of you to get closer to the gossip.

Dinner goes by quickly, a seven-course meal with wine pairings and blood served chilled in shot glasses between plates. Your own palate-cleanser is more wine. When things wrap up after dessert, you’re glad Max is driving.

“Perhaps the DayQuil wasn't the best thing to pair with the Bordeaux,” he says in your ear once you’re alone again.

“I’ll puke on you if you tease me right now,” you mumble, sniffling. A tissue is placed in your hand.

“Whatever you say, bunny.”

That’s new.

##

The goddamned air conditioner in your apartment is out. It had died at around six in the morning, right when the sun had risen, and by the time you were awake at seven, you were drenched in sweat and convinced you were dying. Even the tile in your bathroom didn’t seem to soothe the burn all over your skin. The cold shower you tried to take was merely tepid, and the walk to your car nearly had you on the phone declaring your resignation to your boss. Of course, Max wouldn’t put up with that, no matter how much he seemed to like you. So you slog over to the cafe, you pick up an iced bloffee in an opaque cup, and you trudge to the office. At least they keep it cool in the office, and you know how to make yourself look busy.

“Don’t you look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning!” Max remarks when you come in. You put the blatte down on his desk a little more forcefully than normal, and fix him with a scowl.

“My air-con unit is waiting for an interview at Grigor’s.”

“May it rest in pieces,” Max says with amusement. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Why didn’t you call your boss who flirted with you nonstop and took care of you while you were sick and took you on expensive, exclusive not-dates to the hottest crypt in town? Why indeed?

“I woke up in Satan’s asscrack, this is me on two hours of no central cooling and east-facing windows.” Max at least winces.

“Well, you know I’ve got the space at my place,” he says, going for casual, and tripping over his words anyway. Your eyes snap up to his. “Don’t make that face, you spend more time there than I do, practically.” You know that’s not true, but he continues. “C’mon. You know I won’t bite...you, at least.”

“I’m...” Suddenly the air in the room feels just as hot and thick as it had in your apartment. “Yes.” You know this is breaking a ton of rules, rules you had in place to protect yourself, but the danger is too tempting to turn down.

Max is surprised. “Yes?”

“Yes, I’ll stay at yours tonight.” There’s a bit of a beat before you continue. “For the air conditioning.”

“Of course.”

“Right.”

“Yes.”

“Yes...” Max takes his iced bloffee. “So. Let’s go over today.”

The morning standup goes quickly, and with your mind daydreaming hours away, when the sun goes down, it’s like you blink and it’s five. You nervously pick at the sleeve of your shirt, eyes flicking over to Max at his desk. He’s wrapping up work, a new product agreement coming down the pipeline from the regional office. You’d retrieved lunch for him and had to remind him to eat. With a last sigh, he closes the file and shuts down his computer.

“Did you want to meet me there or consolidate gas and go together from your place?” he asks, and you don’t know why you’re surprised, but some part of you seemed to truly have thought his offer had been a joke, or at least forgotten. Had it been on his mind the entire day, the way it had plagued yours?

“Yeah, let’s save gas,” you say, mouth gone dry.

“I’ll see you at yours, then. Text you when I’m on my way.” You take your leave, braving the suffocating drive home in your car. Things aren’t much better back at your apartment, and halfway through packing an overnight bag you text your landlord about the A/C issue.

Marcus L: You’re the fifteenth person to complain about there A/C today.

You want to shoot back a nasty text, but find it takes too much effort, between agonizing over what clothes you want to pack and just expiring on the floor. Max texts you.

MP: Outside.

You quickly shove a few more things into the bag and rescue your suffering little plant in the kitchen window. Poor thing, it looks like wilted salad. You lock up and send a nasty glare toward your landlord’s name on the tenant announcement board on your way out. Max is still in the car, cool air pumping full blast as you slide into the leather passenger seat with a groan.

“Never thought I’d hear that noise out of you without asking,” he says, and you’re too in love with the ventilation system in his car to care. The rest of the ride is spent in silence, relief too thick in the air to be brushed away by conversation.

Still, when the two of you pull up the drive to his house, some kind of strange sensation sinks into your stomach. This reminds you of an old memory, seeing your parents hold hands in the front of the car as you pulled up the driveway. This reminds you of a ritual long-lost to death and time, a brush of a kiss on the knuckles and a soft, “Home again, home again.” You can picture yourself in the role your mother usually sat in, and Max in the other seat, holding your hand and declaring your arrival with a kiss.

None of that happens, of course, but the feeling doesn’t fade for even a moment as you walk in.

“Wanna use the pool?” Max suggests.

“You just want to see me in a bikini.”

Max gives a shrug and takes off his jacket, disappearing into his wing of the house. You choose a guest room where you haven’t seen any blood on the floor, which you assume is the proper guest room, and not a place where Max takes his messier meals. His suggestion sits in your mind, an unshakable suggestion you can’t deny sounds amazing. You peek into the backyard and nearly choke.

Max has foregone any sense of shame and had undressed poolside, his work slacks in a haphazard pile to the side. His tight, bright red boxer briefs leave nothing to the imagination, and you have to take a deep breath to center yourself before looking away. You press your overheated body to the cool wall beside the window, sweating for an entirely additional reason now.

Could you justify doing the same, joining him in the pool? You know it’s kept at a comfortable temperature year-round, but haven’t had the chance to experience it for yourself just yet. You stand at a precipice, professionalism and security at your back, and the winds of desire and the unknown whipping at your front.

“Fuck it.”

You strip like Max had, but in the comfort of the guest room. You’re glad at least to be in something a little modest beneath all your clothes, though it won’t matter once you’re soaking wet. Before you have the chance to talk yourself out of it, you take a running start across the patio, and leap into the pool in nothing but your skivvies.

Max had heard you running up, but didn’t have time to look before he was hit with the wave of your splash. When the water settles and you finally surface, he can take in the sight of you, soaking wet and nearly naked. His eyes flash darker with desire, and he clenches his fists so he won’t reach out to touch you. When you finally blink the water out of your eyes and tread in place, you lock eyes with him. “Change your mind, then?” he asks.

“Clearly.” Just to tease him, you recline back and float, letting your body soak in the sun.

“You need sunscreen.” Max had patiently walked you through the myths and facts of being a vampire, and luckily, sunlight was only slightly irritating, unless there was sunscreen involved. For fledgling vampires, they could look like lobsters before noon. Max had worked with his tan guy to not only get rid of the sickly pallor so many of the newly-undead had, but also to formulate a more permanent form of sun protection, so he wasn’t going through several cans of sunscreen every week in the summer. He cared about things like his appearance, and namely, making his appearance seem deceptively human. So skincare and sun protection were on his mind.

“You gonna help me put it on?” you ask teasingly, half-expecting a lewd answer, and instead getting...

“What’s gotten into you?” He’s chuckling, but you can tell there’s a thread of genuine confusion beneath it all. You’d agreed to stay at his house with little-to-no convincing, and within ten minutes of arriving, had stripped to your underwear and jumped in a pool. Now, you were openly inviting him to put his hands on you, on your bare skin he so often thought about. You swim a little closer.

“Trying something new. It’s called relaxing.” Though your words are nonchalant, the sudden pounding of your heart gives away your nervousness. This is a leap of faith. Would Max show his cards, or let you fall on your face?

“Well, I know all about that,” he says, his voice dropping into that familiar low register that plagued your dreams. Suddenly, he’s right in front of you, holding you close when the displaced water threatens to push you back. You can’t help but gasp, his hands still so warm against you, and still just as shocking. He moves the both of you with ease, that incredible vampire strength coming out to play. He normally held back from most of his baser instincts and abilities, knowing it was messy and frightening to some, but all you feel is a thrill, as he hoists you up to sit on the edge of the pool. He pushes himself out next to you.

Sitting side by side like this, wet shoulder to wet shoulder, something warm and sticky and heavy settles in your gut. It feels like that same weightless drop you used to feel every time he would look at you. At first, but now, his eyes had become familiar... However, all at once, they’re not. They hold emotion instead of pride, softness instead of calculation, want instead of lust, and curiosity where there had been smugness. The butterflies in your stomach want out. They want to push the craving for a kiss up from your chest and into your mouth, they want you want you want.

But then Max is standing, and the insufferably hot summer’s day feels colder. You chew your lip and shiver at the feeling of water running down your back. You release that want as an annoyingly-besotted sigh, and jump when Max speaks again. “Miss me that much?” You look up at him. He’s blocking out the sun with his broad shoulders, leaving him with an undeserved halo around his silhouette.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Your ego’s big enough.”

“I think my ego is perfectly proportional,” he smirks, offering a hand up. You take it, feeling that lump in your throat dissolve under the warmth of his attention. “C’mon, on the deck chair.”

You sit, and pull your hair away from your shoulders so he can reach more of you. It’s an offering, a baring of the neck, leaving your guard down. It might be reckless, might be the wrong thing to do, but when he sucks in a quiet breath, you can’t help the silly smile that spreads across your face. He warms the sunscreen up in his hands before spreading it over your shoulders and neck, working slowly so every little bit is rubbed into your skin. “No tattoos?” he asks, once the silence edges into ‘mildly uncomfortable’ territory.

“No,” you sigh. “I’ve got a bit of an addictive personality. If I got one, I’d get a hundred more before I knew it.”

He huffs a laugh. “When I was Turned,” he starts, and your ears perk up. He almost never talks about his time in Romania aside from what you needed to know to do your job. “I had two full sleeves, they were pretty shitty, but I was proud of them, I guess. They stopped right before the end of my shirt cuffs. After the Turning, they were gone. I was white as snow, and not just from the blood loss.”

“They...how?” you ask, wanting to turn just to check and see.

“You sweat a lot during the Turning. My skin’s thicker now, physically. Kinda has to be, to fight the sun. There are other scientists and theories floating around, trying to understand what’s going on chemically, but as far as I know, no one’s tattoos have survived the process.” He sounds wistful, and your heart pangs a bit.

“And you can’t get any more now?”

“They don’t take. They’re more like really painful temporary tattoos. We aren’t perceptible to stains or anything like that, either. Helps with the blood, at least.”

It’s your turn to give a soft laugh. “That’s a shame. I like tattooed guys.” His hands falter for a moment, and you grin to yourself.

Then, his voice is much closer to your ear. “I still know how to leave a mark, bunny, I promise you that.” Your body lights up like a fucking jumbotron at the feeling of his whisper against your neck. “You just need to ask.”

You blush, despite it all.

“Let me get your arms.” Limb by limb, he covers your skin with sunscreen, and takes his time rubbing it in. You take your time enjoying it. By the time he gets to your neck, you’re having to bite your tongue to keep from squirming. His hands are just so big and strong. Two fingers tap beneath your chin, and you move willingly, baring your neck the most it’s ever been. Whereas before, he could have blamed his pace on thoroughness, he moves glacially now, pausing his fingers over your rapid pulse and massaging the tense muscles through the sunscreen.

Then, he’s tilting your head back down with his hand in your hair. He’s so fucking close, and through the chemical smell of the pool and the hot dusty smell of the patio, you can smell him: his cologne, his fucking hair product, that dangerous predator smell you couldn’t quite place. His lips are partially open, eyes dark, and his brow furrowed. Your instincts lift your hand to his forehead and smooth down that little furrow with your thumb. It’s the first time you’ve initiated a touch with him, sweet and caring and not enough.

“Can I kiss you, bunny?”

“Please.”

It’s hot and it’s messy and rough and you think his fangs may have descended on accident, but you don’t mind one bit. His mouth is heaven and his body is hot and clings to you like nothing else ever has. You’re both making tiny little noises in the back of your throat, rapturous little sounds of triumph that this is finally happening now.

You moan his name when his hand comes to rest on your lower back, and his fingers dig in just a little harder in response. You nip at his lower lip a little, playful and not at all thinking about the consequences. When you pull back from one another, he looks more dazed than you remember him ever being around you. He’s chasing your lips again a moment later, and his kiss meets your grin when he makes contact. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long...” he murmurs, kissing down your jaw to your neck. The sunscreen hasn’t dried, so he just leaves soft closed-mouth kisses on you for now.

“Me too,” you admit, finally. You’d lived in denial of your feelings for him for so long, mostly out of a sense of protection for your poor little heart, but also out of fear. Fear that he wouldn’t reciprocate, fear that he’d womanize his way into breaking your heart, fear of the unknown. “Me too,” you say again, firmly.

His eyes sparkle with delight as you repeat yourself. He pulls back and kisses you softly on the mouth, then your nose, and forehead, before wrapping you up in his arms like you’d dissolve into smoke if he didn’t. If he had a heart that beat, it’d be pounding. But you settle for the comfort you can get in the castle of his embrace. It’s a calm quiet between the two of you, before you realize something.

“I should’ve known you were a big softie underneath it all.”

He barks out a laugh. “You gotta keep that one a secret.”

“I don’t kiss and tell, Max.”

“I know you don’t, bunny.”

[altsvu]

left in the dark

pairing: jj x kate callahan x bau!fem!reader, aaron hotchner x bau!fem!reader

wc: 1.6k

summary: you find out you’re pregnant with Hotch’s baby (in the most unexpected way) and you go to JJ and Kate about it since they’re also pregnant, but their only advice is to tell Hotch about it.

tw: pregnancy, fluff, mentions of blood/injury, breeding kink??

a/n: at first this was super hard for me to write, mostly because this is different than what i’m used to, but i think it turned out okay! enjoy my lovelies!!

criminal minds masterlist! ✯ taglist!

✯✯✯✯

“JJ! When were you gonna tell me?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to wait till things played out.”

You smiled. “Well, I’m super happy for you regardless.”

“Thank you.” JJ smiled, pulling you into a hug. “So, how are things going with you and Hotch?”

You bit your lip. Hotch was the sweetest to you. He took you to romantic dates on off days and you always checked up on each via text messages and FaceTime when one of you were away.

Not to mention that your sex life was immaculate.

“Things are going pretty well, to be honest. We’re actually going to rent out the AMC movie theater in Arlington this weekend and watch our favorite throwback movies.”

“Oh, that sounds super romantic, I’m actually super glad that you two finally decided to get together after he was pining for you for years.”

You snorted. “We were both pining for each other. For a very very long time.”

“Yeah, the team had their suspicions.” JJ agreed. “You ready to head to the jet?”

You nodded and followed JJ out to the tarmac.

✯✯✯✯

You and Hotch had to go check out the crime scene, and it was a gruesome one. A family of 5 were bludgeoned in their home late at night, and the wife... well she had multiple knife cuts on her abdomen.

Out of nowhere, you felt sick to your stomach. This was unusual, especially for you since you got used to seeing many different types of crime scenes. You tried your hardest to breathe calmly but you felt yourself about to throw up.

“... he hurts them before finally killing them. Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just probably ate something bad-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence when you found yourself running outside and throwing up. You wiped your mouth and took deep breaths, trying to process what just happened.

“Sweetheart?” Hotch whispered. You turned around and he held you by your arms. “What’s going on? This is very unlike you.”

“I- I don’t know what’s going on.” you replied. “This never happens.”

He pulled you into a hug. “Do you want me to take you back to the field office?” He murmured into your hair.

“No, you don’t have to. I’ll be okay.”

You caught Hotch still staring you down with a concerned look on his face.

“Damn it Aaron. Don’t worry about me. I don’t want to be the reason we don’t find this unsub in a timely manner.”

“Okay, you’re right. But can you please let me know if you don’t feel well?”

“Yes sir.” You smiled, pressing a kiss on his cheek and walking back to the crime scene.

✯✯✯✯

When you got back to the field office, Hotch had to talk to the field agent on the case in his office, and you had to go to the conference room to look over some case files.

Hunger then struck over you, so you headed to the vending machine you noticed earlier to find a snack to hold you over until lunch. The options that were there weren’t appealing to you, so it looked like you weren’t gonna be eating for about a few more hours. To your luck, Kate and JJ were in the conference room when you got back.

“Girls, I swear I’m gonna die if I don’t have anything in my system.”

“You want some saltines? It’s all I have.” JJ asked.

“Oh yes, please.” You nodded. JJ handed you a fresh pack.

You were so indulged in them that you almost finished the pack. JJ and Kate caught on

extremely fast.

“Are you pregnant too?” Spencer asked, walking in.

“What? What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

Kate sat next to you. “Well, for starters, you’re eating saltines.”

“Because I didn’t want anything at the vending machine.”

“There’s a pattern here. Kate ate saltines, I caught JJ eating saltines, and now you’re eating them.”

You sighed, putting the rest of the pack down. “Look, pretty boy, I think I would know if I were pregnant.”

“If you say so,” Reid answered with a smile on his face.

The rest of the team came in, and all thoughts of you being pregnant dissipated.

✯✯✯✯

Over the next few days, you had some of the same symptoms and you started to wonder if you were actually pregnant. You wanted to buy a test but it would be hard to do so when your job came first.

Soon enough, the case was closed and you were heading back home. Everyone on the jet was asleep except you and Hotch.

“Hey,” he said softly. “How you feeling?”

“Like eating a 5 course meal and throwing it back up.” you moaned, curling up closer to him for comfort.

“I’ll take you home and cook you a nice meal, okay?”

You nodded, mumbling “I love you” and he kissed your lips in response.

Finally getting home, Hotch did as he promised and you spent the night cuddling and comforting each other.

The next morning you felt yourself throwing up again so you decided it was time to get a pregnancy test. Hotch had already left to go back to Quantico to do some paperwork but the rest of the team was off. You dragged yourself to a nearby store to get a test and took it immediately.

Two lines.

How would Hotch react?

He always talked about having kids, in fact he almost got turned on at the thought of you with a baby bump. But the only thing was that he wanted things to be planned out.

You figured he was pretty busy at the moment so you called JJ and Kate and asked to come over to one of their homes. Ultimately, JJ invited you and Kate over.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Kate asked when you arrived.

“I’m pregnant.” You whispered. Both of the women hugged you and congratulated you. They then sat you down at JJ’s dining room table.

“Does Hotch know?”

You bit your lip. “That’s the thing. He doesn’t really know yet. I don’t really know what to do.”

“Well I think the best thing to do is tell him. There’s no way that he would get mad. He loves you too much.” JJ suggested.

You nodded in agreement.

“Also, he’s gonna find out soon enough, so it would be better to just let him know so he expects it,” Kate added.

“You ladies are so right. I’ll let you know how things go!”

✯✯✯✯

When you got back home, Hotch was at the couch watching a show, but it looked more like he was about to fall asleep.

“Hi baby,” you murmured against his skin after ridding yourself of your outerwear and shoes.

“Y/N...” he whispered. He sat up and held you by your waist. “I missed you when I came in.”

“Yeah, I just went over JJ’s for a bit.”

Hotch nodded. There was a bit of silence between you two.

“You look like there’s something bothering you.” he then said.

You shut your eyes, trying to think of the right way to tell him. “Aaron, I’m pregnant.” you said so very quietly.

His eyes widened in excitement. “Y/N! Oh my gosh, I’m ecstatic! This is amazing!”

You smiled and laughed in joy with him as one of his hands sneaked under your shirt and rubbed your belly. He was now sitting upright with you on his lap.

“God, I don’t think you know how long I’ve thought about this.” Hotch hummed, kissing your bare skin. “All those times filling you up with my seed in the bedroom paid off big time. I can’t wait to see your belly grow and grow.”

You leaned down and kissed his lips. “Mmm, I can’t wait either.”

✯✯✯✯

It was just a matter of time before the rest of the team found out. You did not hear the end of it from Spencer when he figured that he was right the whole time.

Hotch, on the other hand, didn’t waste any time serenading and whispering sweet nothings about how you looked so beautiful with your ever growing baby bump to you every day after work, even sometimes during work too. He’d always say that he was just super excited that you were pregnant with his baby every time you asked.

Your pregnancy was so special to the team that Kate and JJ threw a surprise baby shower, in which everyone found out you and Hotch were having a little girl.

In a few short months, your due date was inching closer and closer, and Hotch was there by your side through everything, from when your water broke in the briefing room to when you were being rushed to a hospital room to have the baby delivered.

And finally.

You welcomed a baby girl into the world.

“She’s so beautiful. Just like you.” Hotch smiled and kissed your lips after you were able to hold your baby again.

You nodded in agreement, tears escaping your eyes. You thought about what your life was going to be like now, since you had a precious little one to take care of.

During your maternity leave, each member of the team came to visit you at home, some bearing small gifts for your baby.

“Hey,” Hotch came up to you one night after putting your baby to bed. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed the skin behind it. “Can I tell you something?”

“Mhmm, anything.”

“I’m really glad that we have a baby to take care of. I’ve wanted this for such a long time, and having it with you just makes it even better.”

You smiled in response. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah. I love you so much, Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

✯✯✯✯

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