#*not walker didn’t get called for anything but like

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: Jameson's album is released to much celebration while Imani & Isaiah's relationship evolves. EJ prepares for a major life change and Genie's father, Kendrick, worries about his daughter while Camille does battle from two fronts.

Warnings: 18+ (MINORS DNI), smut!!!, oral sex (female receiving), daddy kink (male characters being referred to as that), p in v sex, dom/sub kink (if you squint -- shout out to dusanya), toxic relationship (intentional jealousy, deception, lying), usage of the n word -- if you white and read it, you owe us $20, mentions of therapy, emotional breakdowns, mentions of depression, deception in relationships -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 10.1k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: 

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

The hotel lobby buzzed with energy as Jameson’s promo team flitted around, coordinating schedules and prepping for the next interview. Camille lingered by the grand piano, scrolling aimlessly on her phone, but her focus kept drifting to Jameson. He stood across the room, deep in conversation with his publicist, his easy smile and confident presence commanding the space. Everywhere he went, people stopped to look. Even if they didn’t recognize him — he was a beautiful man, it was hard not to look.

Her heart swelled, and a giddy grin tugged at her lips when she realized that he was all hers. I’m his girlfriend. The thought still felt surreal, like she’d stepped into a dream she hadn’t dared to hope for. She wasn’t just part of his world—she was his.

“Hey,” Jameson called, breaking her reverie. He crossed the room toward her, his grin softening into something just for her. “You good?”

“Better now,” Camille said, her voice light but sincere. She reached for his hand, relishing the way his fingers laced through hers.

“Sorry it’s been nonstop,” he said, brushing a kiss against her temple. “Once this wraps, we’ll grab dinner. Just us.” His publicist damn near followed them everywhere since the album promo began. She kept a tight lid on the news surrounding Jameson — even refusing to let Camille do an interview mentioning Jameson. Suffice it to say, the two weren’t overly fond of each other. She’d be glad to get the other man out of their everyday lives.

She nodded, pleased that it was almost over. The day had been a whirlwind and while it was hectic being by his side — she loved it. Even when the lingering shadow of doubt kept creeping in.

Imani’s name had come up more than once during interviews, reporters keen to dig into the inspiration behind Jameson’s album. Camille had smiled through it, remaining unblinking in the face of his past but each mention chipped away at her confidence. She knew they were friends—Jameson had been upfront about that—but it didn’t make it easier.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her attention. She glanced at the screen and froze.

[ +33123456789 ]: Enjoy him while you can. I helped you get him but I can’t help you keep him. If that album’s anything to go by, he’s not over Imani. He’ll go running back to her eventually.

Camille’s chest tightened. She locked the screen quickly, shoving the phone back into her pocket as Jameson’s hand gave hers a reassuring squeeze.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “No, it’s fine,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just a work thing.”

Jameson studied her for a moment, his gaze searching, but before he could press further, his publicist called him back. “Hold that thought,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

As he walked away, Camille’s smile faltered. The room felt suddenly too loud, too bright. She wanted to believe in Jameson, in them, but Sloane’s words lingered, feeding into her worst fears.

She tried to push Sloane’s words out of her head, but they kept resurfacing like a never-ending loop. It had all started at Paris Fashion Week when she and Sloane had been introduced by a mutual friend. They had hit it off immediately, bonding over their shared love for fashion. But as the night went on, the reasons for her move to Paris became clearer.

It was a classic tale of unrequited love – Sloane confessed to Camille that she was in love with a man who didn’t feel the same way about her. The man had chosen another woman and their relationship was chaotic on its best day, destructive on its worst. And it didn’t take long for Camille to realize who this man was – James Lucas.

At first, Camille dismissed it as just a silly crush. After all, Jameson was a famous musician and many women were drawn to him. But as Sloane continued to talk about him – praising his talent and charisma – Camille couldn’t help but feel sad for her. When the news came that Imani and James were over, it had been Camille’s suggestion that she spend time with Jameson to see if would accept Sloane back into his life.

Her job was simple: Talk to him, befriend him, put in a good word for Sloane. Things quickly escalated after she met him. He was just as magnetic as Sloane said…but there was a sadness within him. All she wanted to do was make him smile. Before she knew what was happening, they were in bed together and she was falling head over heels just as Sloane did.

Despite knowing her feelings for him were getting serious, she continued pretending to nudge him in Sloane’s direction – pumping her friend for information. Things he liked, things he hated. With every bit of info, she found herself closer and closer to him. It didn’t take ten years to get close. Sloane had already provided her with the cheat codes. And so she used them until Jameson was visiting her penthouse several times a week for more than just sex.

Guilt ridden but determined to keep him for herself, she began to slowly distance herself from Sloane. She erased everything, hoping not to get caught up. Sloane’s repeated texts and calls for updates went unanswered. What had been an amiable friendship quickly spiraled. Gone was the sweet but obviously love-stricken woman. In her place was a woman scorned — and Camille had earned her ire.

She glanced at Jameson again, watching the way he moved through the crowd with effortless charm. He was hers, but for how long? And if he still cared about Imani—if there was even a chance—could she handle being second best? For all the brave things she uttered to EJ at the party, she was terrified of losing Jameson. And Sloane reminded her that she had good reason to be.

Well, fuck that. Camille took her phone from her pocket and returned a text for the first time in months.

He and I just happened, Sloane. I didn’t intend it. But we’ve made a commitment to each other and nothing is going to undermine that. Not you, not Imani. Nothing. Leave me alone.

She took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the unease. She wasn’t going to let Sloane’s words ruin this moment. Not when she was here, with Jameson, living a reality she’d once only dreamed of. Still, the doubts lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

A month passed and she still only knew him as James Lucas. She hadn’t contacted him, and he hadn’t contacted her. It was bittersweet. It meant that she never had to hear about how great he and Camille were doing, but it also meant that she never got to see or hear him as Jameson. She had come to terms with this…until a few weeks ago when he seemed to be everywhere again. 

His highly anticipated album, Midnight & Dawn, had finally dropped and in the week leading up to it, James Lucas made appearances on every late-night television show, radio segment, and podcast she could think of. His hit single, “Burn,” dominated the airways. He was damn near inescapable. Usually, Imani could handle his public blitz. Every time she saw his name or heard his song, she simply scrolled past it or changed the station. But during an interview on the popular Rhythm & Tea podcast, the damn bastard had to mention her name.

"Okay, let’s get into the details. It’s called Rhythm and Tea. Where’s the tea?” She teased him. “We love your new single, Burn. We have to know, James, is it about anyone in particular? Because we have our theories." "Let me hear the theories." "One of our producers think it's about your latest break up with our girl, Imani. Is that true?" He hesitated before offering a chuckle in response, "Yes, we wrote it a year or so ago. Around the time we broke up." Lea’s eyes went wide and she said “Ooooh.” Much to the amusement of her co-host but Jameson continued. “But I mean — it's Mani. She's a phenomenal woman. You lose someone like her, you feel it. For a long time. But I'm lucky. She and I have managed to be friends. I respect that so that's all I'll be saying.”

Imani watched the clip at least five times now, still reeling from the fact that he mentioned her name on the podcast. But her initial shock has since turned into annoyance. Why would he bring her up now? And friends? They hadn’t spoken in a whole month! And why was he still wearing that stupid watch? In every video she’s seen of him lately, he’s wearing the watch that she had given him. It didn’t make sense. If he moved on with someone else, why was he still wearing a physical reminder of their past relationship? Was he playing some kind of twisted game? 

Imani let out an exasperated sigh as the video began to auto-play yet again. She quickly tapped the pause button, halting the incessant sounds. She hadn’t even heard the song yet. Imani had been diligently avoiding all texts and Instagram comments about his new album, but this interview was the final straw. She couldn’t resist it any longer. 

She reached for her remote from her coffee table and turned on her speakers. A few swift taps on her phone and his voice filled the quietness of her house. She started with Midnight, immediately recognizing each lyric that referenced their tumultuous relationship. 

As she listened to each track, some stood out more than others, but each one hit her harder than the last. The smooth, soulful beats of “Roll Some Mo” reminded her of the first time they met, their love still fresh and innocent. She could almost feel the warmth of her hand in hers and the pure bliss that consumed them.

But when she got deeper into the album and “Confessions” played, Imani’s heart ached with pain as she remembered Jameson’s infidelity and how deeply hurt she was. The lyrics cut her like shards of glass. 

By the time she reached one of the final tracks, “Used to Be”,  tears were streaming down her cheeks. It transported her to the dark space of their breakup, reliving that painful conversation they had and how much she regretted it the next day. His somber voice, accompanied by haunting strings, left her in a state of emotional turmoil. She huddled on her couch, pulling her knees to her chest as sobs wracked through her body. It was as if he had written those songs just for her, ripping open old wounds and pouring salt on them. 

How long will it take me to remember? I'm afraid what we had is already faded We left it frozen in December Who's makin' the rules to make you stay? Ooh

They broke up last December. It couldn’t be anyone but her.

A dying rose in the winter I'm holdin' on every way I can Tell me, is this only just me By my lonely? Ooh

The sorrow in his voice cut through Imani’s heart like a knife. As he sang, memories flooded back, as if their breakup was happening all over again. She couldn’t hold back the tears that were steadily streaming down her face, her body trembled with each sob. In the year since they parted ways, Imani never once reached out to him or checked in with Genie to see how he was doing. Instead, she pushed away any reminders of Jameson, thinking it would make moving on easier. But now, as she listened to him mourn the death of their relationship, Imani was consumed with regret. She should have been there for him, even if they weren’t together anymore.

Imani inhaled deeply as the album came to a close, wiping her face dry. “Shit.” She said. Every song on Midnight had the power to transport her back in time to a different moment in her relationship with Jameson. Each track unlocked a new memory and stirred up a whirlwind of emotions for her. Each song reminded her of what they had lost, it was emotionally exhausting. She didn’t know if she could handle it all over again with the companion album – Dawn. But something compelled her to keep listening, so she pressed play. 

Fightin' fuckin', fuckin' fightin' That's the way we love it, damn, I love you Playin' games just to get a reaction, pushin' buttons

Imani’s mind was flooded with more memories, each one hitting her like a wrecking ball. The fights, the passionate sex, and using other men to make him jealous – she knew all the cheat codes to get under his skin. Their love was complicated, turbulent, and consuming – but it was their own special kind of chaos. So why did it feel like he didn’t love their chaotic relationship anymore? She had been the one to walk away, to choose a different path, but she always thought she could come back to him. Now as she listened to Dawn, she wasn’t so sure. 

Then came the songs that she knew were about someone else – Camille. Her tears turned into furrowed brows and heated skin as the realization hit her. Imani felt a surge of annoyance towards Camille – how dare she be the subject of his love songs? How dare she be the reason he sounded happy? They had only known each other for six months. In a fit of frustration, Imani unlocked her phone and quickly typed out a message to Jameson.

[ Imani ]: The album sounds amazing, friend. Congrats on the success, xoxo. [ 323-555-0198 ]: Thank you, Mani. For everything. I’m glad to see you’re well too, friend.

Furrowing her brow, Imani squinted at the message, her eyes scanning over it repeatedly as if she was searching for a hidden meaning. She couldn’t help but scoff and roll her eyes in frustration. The entire foundation of their friendship felt hollow and insincere. He hadn’t contacted her in weeks, but now his hands were free to type some bullshit ass text? Her fingers flew across the screen, furiously typing out a lengthy response. She read over it as her thumb hovered over pressing send. 

But would he even care what she had to say? He was so wrapped up in Camille. He wouldn’t give a damn about her anger. It wouldn’t ignite him like the Jameson she knew. She huffed, closing out of his messages. It wasn’t worth the time or the energy. Frustrated and fed up with Jameson, Imani turned to someone she knew would take her mind off him and his dumb ass double album. 

[ Imani ]: hey, i miss u. come see me. the gate code is 4592. 

Isaiah Ellis was renowned as the highest-paid and most sought-after athlete in basketball. Men wanted to be him and women wanted to be with him. Isaiah was idolized and respected by many for his contributions to basketball. He wielded power on and off the court. People dropped to their knees to get him what he wanted. However, when it came to Imani, he was putty in her hands. She held all the power in their relationship and she knew it. 

Since they met in New York, he’s stayed in contact with her. Isaiah checked in while he was away in different cities playing with his team. He showered Imani with expensive and lavish gifts. And whenever he was in Los Angeles, he dedicated his time to her. Now, Imani wasn’t a dummy. She knew he had other women in his life. She’d seen the tabloids and how Isaiah angled his phone away from her whenever she was near. Imani didn’t care, because he was simply a placeholder for a spot she needed to fill. His company brought her comfort, as he had a way of making her forget about Jameson, even if it was only for a few hours. It was a much-needed relief for Imani.

With Isaiah’s tongue and fingers working tirelessly to please her, Imani couldn’t help but moan and writhe beneath him. He had been going at it for hours – eating her pussy and bringing her to multiple orgasms before allowing her to rest and then starting again. Just when she thought he had gotten his fill, he proved his insatiable appetite by returning for more. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” she moaned as his warm breath sent shivers down her spine. His tongue expertly flicked against her clit while his fingers plunged deep inside her with each stroke. She gripped his head as she matched his rhythm with her hips. “You gon’ make me cum again.”

“That’s what I want, mama. Give it to me.” He mumbled against her clit. Isaiah picked up the pace, his tongue joined in on the action. He was greedy, practically begging for her release with his fingers searching for that right spot. 

His tongue pressed harder against her causing Imani to spiral towards yet another orgasm. “I’m…I’m…” she gasped loudly before succumbing to pleasure once again. He slowly stroked her through her release before tenderly cleaning the wetness around her pussy with his tongue and lips. 

“Mmm,” he groaned against her sensitive flesh. “I can’t get enough of your pretty pussy.” He kissed her clit, making her shudder one last time. Isaiah released her from his embrace. Then he stood and made his way to the bathroom, giving Imani time to slip into her thong and return to the comfort of her king-size bed. He soon joined her, settling in by her side. 

“You sure everything alright, baby? You seem off tonight,” Isaiah asked, his hands roaming over her smooth skin. Imani forced a smile and replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. I promise.” But she was lying. She couldn’t shake Midnight & Dawn, specifically the songs she heard about Camille. Despite Isaiah’s best efforts, even he couldn’t make her forget about Jameson and how he felt about Imani. Was he really happy with her? Did Camille make him happier than she did? She was tired of wondering and feeling jealous of another woman. Imani hated him because of the power he had over her. No man could make her insane like he could. 

She reached for her phone on the nightstand and unlocked it. Imani didn’t know this Jameson, but she knew exactly what to do to drive the old Jameson insane. She just hoped that side of him wasn’t gone too. He needed to feel what she had been feeling since this morning: jealousy. Opening up Instagram, she tapped to post as Isaiah adjusted himself, resting his head on her stomach. He said something, but Imani didn’t hear him. She was focused on finding the perfect picture of Isaiah to post. After finally selecting one, she thought of a caption and hit post. Hopefully, this would be enough to make Jameson suffer.

Jameson stood in the middle of Camille's bedroom, thumb frozen over the picture that he hadn’t been expecting to see.

In the weeks since his lunch with Imani, he had wanted to reach out but he didn’t know quite what to say. Being friends with a woman you were in love with but trying not to be in love with was…weird. It was difficult. He didn’t know how to talk to her but he held on to the positive side of things: they wished one another well.

He didn’t know he’d regret those words. He had just opened Instagram, more out of habit than intention, but he had searched her name purposely. He could hear Camille her in her walk in closet, going through clothes to decide what to wear for dinner but he couldn't quite contain himself.

It wasn’t even a picture of Imani. He had spent more time than he liked simply going to her page, staring at pictures of her, and then closing out of the app when he realized how pathetic it was. But this one, he knew he never wanted to see again.

A man sat on a couch, surrounded by dogs. Her mother’s dogs. This nigga met her mama? He wasn’t looking at the camera but he obviously knew the picture was being taken while he played around with the dogs. It wasn’t just the fact that she had taken it and posted it to her account that incensed him. Or the fact that he seemed to already meet her family. It was also the caption. That was the worst part. 

One word: Daddy 🥰

Before he could stop himself, he felt the anger well in his chest — making him tighten his grip on the phone. He’d seen her with other people. Grainy photos taken from a distance but she had never posted them herself. He could console himself with the delusion that if she didn't claim them, it didn't matter. But this man was on her page. This man was claimed by her. And she was calling him things she had only ever called Jameson.

His thumb hovered over the screen, tempted to click on the comments, but he stopped himself. He didn’t need to see the flood of people gushing over how happy they were for her. Fuck him. And fuck her right in that moment.

When did she meet him? How long had they been together? Was this why she had so easily accepted his offer of friendship? A million questions raced through his mind as he tried to make sense of it all.

He couldn’t understand why she would post something like that on social media. Was she trying to hurt him? They played games like this often when they were together — seeing who could and would react first. It was part of the allure of being with Imani. Part of the excitement. But they weren't together now so...what was the point? He had no hope for a romantic one but he hadn't wanted to lose her. But now — he wasn't sure if he could even stand talking to her without frustration bubbling over. 

As soon as that thought occurred to him, Jameson knew he was being unreasonable. How could he be jealous? He told her he wanted to be friends. He really did want the best for her. So why did this affect him so much? The answer was right there — lurking in the recesses of his brain: You wanted to be the only man for her. You wanted to be the only man to know what it felt like to bring her to the brink of bliss — to get her so out of control that she called you that one word.

He was a piece of shit.

“Babe, what do you think?” Camille’s voice floated in from the closet. Jameson didn’t bother looking up from his phone as he responded. “Huh?”

“The dress,” Camille said, walking in and doing a twirl. She looked beautiful in a gold gown, shimmering every time she swayed her hips. It was a walk people paid millions for but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. “Do you think they look okay here?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” he said quickly, his voice tight.

Camille tilted her head, studying him. “What happened?”

Jameson forced himself to stop looking, peering up at his girlfriend and trying to school his features into something that didn’t resemble anger. “Nothing, baby. I’m good. I’m sorry. I’m just uh—scheduling an appointment with my therapist.”

She didn’t look convinced but she didn’t push. Instead, she blew him a kiss as she walked back into the closet for shoes.

Jameson exhaled slowly, his fingers curling into fists. Images of Imani fucking another man filled his mind. The worst part was the way he heard an echo of her in his head. Instead of making him happy that she had found someone, he felt a fresh rush of anger.

But there was no time for it. Camille didn’t deserve his misplaced frustration. He had made the decision to move forward in their relationship. And he was going to follow through on it. Jameson took one last look down at the image, a scoff leaving his mouth. He clicked her name, scrolled her profile, and went through the process of blocking her.

It made him feel better for all of two minutes. Two minutes that he used to remind himself that he was a taken man now. He told himself to let it go, to focus on what he had with Camille. She was kind, patient, and everything he should want. She knew him so well that it was like they had been together most of his life. She didn’t play games. She didn’t take pride or pleasure in sending him reeling. All she wanted to do was be with him. He should cherish that. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of Imani. The caption echoed in his mind, and a bitter thought followed: He ain’t me and I hope she hates it. He clenched his jaw, shaking his head. He had to get over her. He had to.

Just then, his phone beeped – alerting him to a text message.

[ ej dupree ]: everything’s set [ ej dupree ]: just left kendrick’s house. he officially allowed me to take genie’s hand in marriage 🎉 [ jameson ]: congratulations 👏 ken don’t play about his baby so if he says yes, you must have impressed him [ ej dupree ]: you know me. i’m a impressive muhfucka [ jameson ]: shut up nigga 😂 [ ej dupree ]: you and camille still coming? [ jameson ]: of course, man. wouldn’t miss it for the world. i’m happy for y’all.

“Baby?” Camille’s voice called softly.

He looked up, feeling better after the text from EJ but still annoyed at Imani. It took effort but he managed to school his expression into something calm and collected. “Mhm?”

“I'm ready.” she said with a small smile.

He gave her a small smile, moving toward her in the doorway as he shoved his phone into his back pocket. “I'm ready too.” He saw a genuine smile on her face then and felt guilt hit him in the gut. She was worried about him. Jameson framed her face, leaning in to kiss her softly. “Thank you for taking me to dinner. Thank you for wanting to celebrate me. I’m sorry for being so inattentive. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” 

Kendrick leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass of iced tea. The lounge room in his Beverly Hills home was quiet, the kind of quiet he liked—just enough jazz in the background to keep the silence from feeling too heavy. Across from him, Anaïs Lucas sat with her usual grace, her sharp eyes watching him like she could see right through him.

Even now, years removed from his days on the court, Kendrick still had the presence of a man who once ruled arenas. The framed photos on the lounge walls—him in a Lakers jersey, mid-dunk, or holding the championship trophy—were a constant reminder of his legacy. People still whispered his name when they saw him, still asked for photos and autographs when he stepped out in public. But here, with Anaïs, he wasn’t the legendary Kendrick Adesanya. He was just a man trying to find his footing.

“You’ve been staring at that glass for five minutes,” Anaïs said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “That means you’re overthinking.”

“Am I that predictable?” Kendrick asked, a small smile breaking through. “To me? Always,” she teased, her voice softening.

Kendrick exhaled, leaning forward slightly. “It’s Genie. And Jamie.”

Anaïs tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Go on.” “I’m worried about our kids.” He admitted softly. “…I may or may not also be worried about Jamie.” Anaïs confessed. “But about Imogen? Never.” “She’s getting married.”

Anaïs’s eyes went wide but she said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

“I like the boy,” Kendrick began, his tone measured. “He’s solid. Respectful. Loves her, I can tell. He came to the house. Asked for permission to propose. I know it’s just a courtesy but it was good he asked. I just…”

“You can’t let your baby go.” Anaïs finished, her smirk turning into a knowing smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It's not just that. But she’s my only one, Anaïs. My baby girl. I want her to be happy and I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“She’s got a good head on her shoulders,” Anaïs reassured him. “I know EJ. He’s a good man. Says what he means, driven, loyal. They’ll be okay.”

Deep down, Kendrick knew that. Genie had a good head on her shoulders but he was afraid for her. EJ was a man who seemed to know what he wanted. Genie had many friends — was known as the Princess of the Staples Center — but he worried she was too impressionable. Even at the age of twenty eight.

Her mother died when she was a child and it left Kendrick struggling to raise her. She was a lonely kid, surrounded by mostly adults, but blossomed. By some miracle, she turned out to be a remarkable human being. Kind, considerate, loving. He juggled a professional career at a level that men half his age would have fumbled but raising Genie was his pride and joy. For all her virtues, his baby was whimsical. She couldn’t make a decision to save her life. One week, she wanted to be an actress. The next, she wanted to be an actress and a lawyer.

By the time she was eighteen, none of those dreams had mattered. She settled on fashion design. Went to college for it. Did tons of internships. He would know. He paid for it all. The degrees, the pied-à-terre in Paris, the apartment in Rome that turned into a house in Umbria, the manufacturing of a test line of clothing, and now...he was working on building her a brick and mortar store. If she ever debuted the fashion line she'd been working on for half a decade. Kendrick watched as his daughter did her best to find her place in the world. He wanted more for her than to be someone’s wife.

“I wanted her to find herself before she had a family. I want all those dreams she has to come to fruition. She’s just...so young.”

Anaïs tilted her head, her expression softening. “She’s not a little girl anymore, Kendrick. She’s not lost—she’s just carving her own path.”

Kendrick exhaled, his broad shoulders slumping slightly. “I know that. I do. But when I see her with EJ, I can’t help but think she’s gonna rush into something she doesn’t fully understand yet because she loves him. Marriage, kids—it’s a lot.”

Anaïs studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp but kind. “You’re projecting.”

Kendrick blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’re projecting,” she repeated, her voice steady. “You didn’t marry me because you weren’t ready. You achieved everything there was to achieve and still...you hesitated. You see marriage as the end and not the beginning. Which means you’re still not ready. But Genie isn’t you. She’s got a different story to write.”

He frowned, his jaw tightening. “That’s not why we didn’t get married.” “It isn’t?” she questioned with a laugh, knowing she was right.

Kendrick didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ice melting in his glass, his thoughts tangled. “This isn’t about us. I just don’t want her to wake up one day and wonder what could’ve been.”

Anaïs reached out, placing a hand over his. “She won’t. Because she knows who she is, and she knows what she wants. You raised her to be strong, Kendrick. Trust her.”

He looked at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Anaïs chuckled softly, withdrawing her hand. “I’ve had years of practice.”

Kendrick hesitated, the weight of their shared history pressing against his chest. “What about Jamie?” he asked, steering the conversation away from his daughter. “You think he knows what he wants?”

Anaïs sighed, shaking her head. “Jameson’s…complicated. The album’s been a reflection of everything he’s going through. And Imani—”

“Imani,” Kendrick interrupted, his brow furrowing. “You’ve mentioned her before. I haven’t met her, but it sounds like she’s a big part of his life. Genie loves her to pieces.”

“She is,” Anaïs admitted. “They’re not together anymore, but she’s still important to him. They’ve been through a lot together. I don’t know. I thought bringing them together would help but I think I’ve made it worse. He seems so conflicted now.”

Kendrick frowned. “Doesn’t sound like he’s fully moved on.”

“Maybe he hasn’t,” Anaïs said, her voice quiet. “But moving on isn’t always linear. Sometimes, the people from our past shape us in ways we don’t expect.”

Kendrick’s gaze lingered on her, the unspoken weight of their own past hanging between them. “Well…,” he said softly. “Now who’s projecting?”

Anaïs met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I am not.” She said firmly. Kendrick returned her the smug laughter she’d given him only moments before. “We walked away from each other. You want him to figure it out with Imani…because we didn’t.”

For a moment, the years melted away, and it was just the two of them again—two people who had loved deeply but had never made it work. Despite ten years and an engagement, they never could quite make each other fit into their worlds.

He wanted to say more, to tell her that he still thought about her, about them. But the words caught in his throat, and all he could do was hold onto the moment, hoping it wouldn’t slip away too quickly.

Instead, Kendrick cleared his throat, his voice steady but quiet. “You know, I’ve never wanted to overstep with Jamie but…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I’d want to give him good fatherly advice even though I know I’m not his father. I’d tell him not to let the good ones slip away. Not because of fear or pride or anything else that gets in the way. If Imani’s that person for him, he needs to figure it out before it’s too late.”

Anaïs’s gaze softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You’ve known him since he was ten. You may not be his father biologically, Kendrick, but he looks at you and sees one. So you are.”

Kendrick blinked, caught off guard by the weight of her words. He shifted in his seat, his broad shoulders straightening as he processed what she’d just said. “He’s never said but…I wouldn’t mind if that’s the way he felt,” he said after a beat, his voice gruff. “That boy’s got a lot of heart. He’s always gone after what he wanted. If he’s got something special with Imani, then maybe he needs to remember what he stands to lose.”

Anaïs tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve tried. But Jameson’s stubborn, and he’s still figuring it out.”

Kendrick leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I said he needs to remember. Our babies are grown now. We have to step back. Let them fumble through it. You were right earlier. Genie is carving her own path. I have to let her. Just like you have to let Jameson be.”

She studied him for a long moment, her sharp eyes softening with something close to gratitude. “You always know how to put things into perspective.” she said quietly.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Not always. But I’ve learned a thing or two along the way.”

Anaïs smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “Thank you, Kendrick. For caring. About me. About Jamie.”

His gaze lingered on her, the words he wanted to say still caught in his throat. Instead, he nodded, his voice steady. “Always. You know that.”

The jazz in the background shifted to a slow, soulful tune, filling the quiet between them. For a moment, Kendrick let himself imagine what it might have been like if things had turned out differently—if they’d found a way to make it work all those years ago. But as Anaïs’s smile lingered, he knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be, even if it wasn’t the way he’d once hoped.

Genie hummed softly to herself as she rearranged the clothes in her suitcase. Her little family vacation was set. They left in two days and Genie was ready. Her father promised to drop in for a couple of days — he had a business meeting at the end of the week so he wouldn’t be with them the full week but Friday and Saturday was good enough for Genie. It had been a while since she got to spend completely uninterrupted time with him and she was excited.

It was even better that EJ’s mother and sister agreed to come. When EJ suggested they get their families together, Genie immediately considered inviting Imani. Just as soon as the thought came, it left. They were slowly getting back to where they used to be. Inviting her to be on a snowy mountain with her, EJ, and other people she didn’t know seemed…excessive. But Genie couldn’t help but wonder if they should invite more people.

Namely...Jameson. He was her family. But inviting Jameson meant he would probably bring Camille and Genie felt like that was taking a side against Imani. She didn't want to do that so she made due with her father and EJ's family.

As she tugged the sleeve of some fabric from her closet, she realized that it wasn’t hers. It had to be EJ's. They were getting down to the wire. Their flight left tomorrow and waiting til the last minute to pack hadn't been her brightest idea but she was getting it done. She should have just thrown it back into the closet but it was one of his favorites. She decided to be a good, mindful girlfriend and pack it for him. His suitcase was already prepared but she dragged it out of the closet, unzipped it, and flipped the heavy case open. Humming to herself, she unzipped one section and began folding the jacket. Her hand hit something hard when she wedged it inside. A box?

Genie pulled the jacket out and tossed it aside, reaching back into the section and grasping the box. It was small, made out of black velvet, and heavy.

Her heart stopped.

She didn’t mean to open it, not really, but her hands moved on their own, trembling as she flipped the top. Inside was a stunning diamond ring, its facets catching the sunlight streaming through the window. A gorgeous two stone ring. One of the large pear shaped diamonds was pink. The other was a brilliant white. The band ensured the diamonds would circle the finger of anyone who put it on. It wasn't the usual ring but it was perfect. For her. She gasped so loud that she started to choke on her own spit.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her breath hitching.

This wasn’t just any ring. It was the ring. EJ was going to propose.

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she snapped the box shut and set it on top of his suitcase like it was a live grenade. She stared at it for a long moment, her thoughts swirling. Was it too soon? Were they ready for this? Did he even know what he was doing? Her panic only grew as the minutes ticked by. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened her messages. There was only one person she could think to text.

[ Genie ]: imani, i need you.[ Genie ]: i think ej is going to propose.[ Genie ]: i found the ring. i’m losing my shit

The dots indicating Imani was typing appeared almost immediately.

[ Mani Mani ❤️]: breathe, genie. where did you find it? [ Genie ]: in his suitcase. we're going on a trip. but i wasn’t snooping, i swear![ Mani Mani ❤️]: i know you weren’t. just…what do you want to do?

Genie stared at the ring again, her chest tightening. She didn’t know what she wanted to do. She loved EJ. He was the kindest, most supportive man she’d ever been with. He was loving, he was protective. He took care of her emotionally and physically. Nobody had ever made her toes curl and her face hurt from smiling. Nobody but him. But marriage? That was a big step. They had only been together for a year and hadn't even moved in together. 

What if he proposed and realized it was a mistake? How would she recover from losing him? What if they got engaged and he changed? It was terrifying. Her thumbs flew across the screen.

[ Genie ]: i need you to come to aspen with us. [ Mani Mani ❤️]: what? [ Genie ]: please, mani! i think he’s going to ask me there, and i need you. i can’t do this alone.

The dots appeared again, then disappeared. Genie held her breath, waiting. Finally, Imani’s response came.

[ Mani Mani ❤️]: i'll be there

Relief flooded through Genie but she didn’t even have time to text a response – she heard EJ calling for her from the living room. Her eyes went wide as she immediately dropped her phone and grabbed the box, shoving it back where she got it from and hastily tried to close up his suitcase. “I’m up here, love!”

She heard him come her way and barely had enough time to shove the heavy case back into the closet before he entered the bedroom. Genie played off her breathlessness by stretching her arms over her head and then to the left.

“...What you doing?” he asked her, humor evident in his tone. “...Yoga.” she replied nervously. “You acting weird,” he said bluntly. “What happen?” “Nothing!” Genie replied quickly, waving her hands in front of him. “Where you been?”

EJ raised an eyebrow at her abrupt change in conversation but he walked further into the room and lifted his head. Genie knew exactly what it meant. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. He grinned at her, pleased that they seemed to have their very own shorthand.

“That yoga stuff works?” he asked curiously. She noticed that he didn’t answer her question but Genie didn’t press. Instead, she decided to distract. “Yes, sir.” Genie replied, pressing a kiss to his nose. EJ immediately knew where things were going. “Do you want to try it out?” She smirked when EJ’s eyes went wide and he nodded his head slowly.

"What's this position called?" he asked her gruffly, holding on tightly to Genie as she twisted her hips. Her suitcase was left halfway pulled together, all thoughts of the ring stuffed in his bag was lost. Genie was lost. Her jaw dropped as she clung to EJ, her hand tightly against the back of her head as she ground down onto him.

"You don't hear me talking to you?" He asked her and her breathing hitched. "Um...It's--It's called the Lotus." She whispered, leaning in for a kiss. EJ reared back, depriving her of it.

"Focus, Genie. This is important," he said, his gaze intense but lips quirking into a teasing grin. Even when they weren't playing, EJ was perpetually in control. Genie's heart raced, wondering how to get what she wanted from him.

Instead of kissing her, he stared at where they were joined, a blissful expression on his face. His eyes were teasing but hooded. Without hesitation, he wedged his hand between them. Genie tensed and cried out, her back arching.

"You want to know something?" EJ asked her and Genie started nodding, not even cognizant of the fact that he was asking her something. "I believe you." He placed his hands against her hips, halting her movements and Genie's eyes went wide with panic. It felt so fucking good. Why was he stopping her?

The two struggle for control. EJ keeping her still with strong hands and Genie whimpering and begging lowly. He pressed his full lips to her ear, talking lowly as he controlled the pace and sank into her slowly. "You take this shit so good." He praised her. Pride raced through Genie's body as she stopped struggling, willing to do anything to get his approval. "You so wet for me."

The words sank into her bones and filled her body with warm satisfaction. Each time his pelvis ground against hers, she felt heat filtering in and spreading straight to her clit. A moan escaped her lips with every thrust -- as if he pushed it out of her. She was nothing but putty in his hands.

Her breathy little whimpers doing more to drive him crazy than anything. "Baby, you gotta be quiet or I swear it's gonna be over before I'm ready."

Genie really did try to stop but she couldn't. The sounds came from her with ease. It was like he had asked her to stop breathing -- she would if she could for him...but she couldn't.

EJ lifted a hand from her hips, covering her mouth with his palm. Another came up, pressing to the nape of her neck as he began to thrust into her with earnest. Each glide in brought a grunt from him and a gasp from her. She was entirely in his control and it was addictive.

Her orgasm was immediate and so visceral that it sent a shudder through Genie. Heat blossomed in her stomach before spreading out all over her body. She screamed behind his hand, tingles spreading out all over her body. Even as she flew into the clouds, EJ kept her grounded. He wasn't done yet.

"I love you." he growled.

Genie mumbled something behind his hand, her eyes drifting closed as she clung tightly to him. EJ lifted his hand just in time to hear her mumble it again.

"I love you more."

A rumble of satisfaction came from his chest and he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm gonna come inside you and then I'm going to make love to you again." He promised her, his lips hovering against her own. They grazed one another and Genie panted against his. Finally -- he let her kiss him. It started slow, building the more she realized that he wouldn't pull away. Soft and timid turned into wet and messy. The wilder she got, the harder he thrust into her.

He didn't pick up the pace. He kept it deep and slow -- with an intimacy that made her feel glorious...and guilty. She had doubted their love for each other in a brief moment. Sex didn't make a marriage but in that moment...Genie knew that she could trust EJ to take care of her. Always.

When he came, he kept his promise. It was inside her. And within ten minutes, he had flipped over and they were starting all over again.

Aspen was gorgeous. White snow everywhere, a large expansive house in the hills. EJ had gone all out for Genie and Jameson was glad. He couldn’t wait to watch them get engaged. He and Camille arrived the day after his friends but they were greeted almost immediately. Genie seemed flustered but was polite to Camille and it pleased Jameson. He had told Cami everything about his family. About how he considered Genie his sister and Kendrick, Genie’s father, better than his own father. She knew it was major that she was meeting either of them.

It was shaping up to be a perfect trip even before he and Camille finished packing their bags…before EJ burst into their room. He didn’t knock and Jameson immediately knew something was wrong. “What is it? What happened?”

“Jamie,” EJ said, slightly out of breath. “Let me talk to you in the hall.” “What?” “The hall, nigga!”

Jameson reluctantly followed, closing the door tightly behind him. He didn’t even get to ask again. EJ told him bluntly. “Imani is here.”

Jameson stiffened. “What do you mean, she’s here?”

“She’s staying here. Genie asked her to come.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His mind raced with questions—Why would she come?—but he forced himself to stay calm. EJ launched into an explanation about it all being a mixup but Jameson didn’t care. All he could focus on was the fact that he couldn’t fuck this trip up.

“It’s fine,” he said after a moment, though his voice was tight. “We can get along for a few days.”

EJ gave him a skeptical look. “You sure? Because this can’t get messy. This is important, Jamie.”

“I know, man. I’m not gonna fuck this up for y’all.” Jameson promised, “I’m gonna ask Cami what she wants to do. If she wants to stay, we’ll stay and everything will be cool. I swear.”

EJ hesitated, then nodded. “I’ma trust you to mean that.” “I do. It’s alright, man.”

He did his best reassuring EJ, noticing that even though he agreed — he didn’t relax. He was nervous and Jameson’s shit with Imani was making it worse. When he returned to the room, Camille immediately pounced on him.

“Everything okay?,” she asked.

Jameson took her hand, sighing softly. He couldn't break it to her gently. The best way was to put it out there. “Imani’s here,” he said carefully. “She’s staying. Genie called and invited her.”

Camille’s expression didn’t change much, but her grip on his hand tightened slightly. “Oh.”

“She didn’t know we were coming, baby. EJ didn’t tell her. Genie wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.” He said softly, rushing to reassure her that Genie wasn’t on some mean girl shit. Sure, he and Imani had agreed to be friends but anyone would know that this would be an awkward situation for them. “I didn’t know she was coming,” Jameson added quickly. “So it’s up to you. If you want to go, we’ll go. If you’re okay with staying, we’ll stay.”

Camille lifted her gaze to him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s okay. I don’t want you to miss a family trip.” She rose to the tips of her toes, kissing his lips softly. “We’re staying.”

Relief washed over him, but it was tinged with guilt. She trusted him and he was still struggling with his feelings for Imani. It made him want to be better for her. He didn’t want to give her any reason to regret believing in him.

“Thank you,” he said, kissing her back. “Let’s go down and say hi to her. Get this over with.”

She agreed and the two of them finished unpacking. Jameson took her hand in his own and they walked downstairs together. He was doing his best to prepare and in his head, he ran through everything he needed to do. Don’t stare at her. Don’t hug her. Don’t smile at her too long. Shake her hand, give her a nod, and welcome her. Then leave.

It didn’t take long until he saw her. Once they hit the bottom of the stairs, there she was. Strutting through the living room, not holding a damn thing in her hands. All her bags were with the tall man that Jameson immediately recognized — and his stomach dropped into his feet. Every bit of the pep talk he had given himself faded. He felt annoyance filter through his body as his stomach twisted. Why the fuck would she bring this new ass nigga on a family trip?

She looked up from her phone to see him and froze in her tracks. Jameson had to remind himself not to let Camille’s hand go. “Hey.” he muttered, doing his best to seem friendly and not pissed the fuck off. “EJ told us you were here. We wanted to say hi.”

Imani blinked at him before easily giving him a smile. He hated it almost immediately. “Nobody told me you guys were here but hi.”

“Hi, Imani,” Camille said warmly, her grip on Jameson’s hand steady. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Imani turned to give her a smile. “Nice to see you again too,” she mumbled. She turned to the man behind her and beckoned him forward. “This is Isaiah.”

Jameson lifted his free hand, offering it to the man even as he had several bags in his hands. Never let it be said he couldn’t play nice. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Isaiah replied, putting a bag down to grasp Jameson’s hand tightly. His tone was polite but distant, his handshake strong but not insistent. He didn’t seem to think he had anything to prove to Jameson and even the thought of that pissed him off. At least Camille knew Imani was competition.

Jameson glanced at Imani, his heart pounding despite himself. Everyone had lapsed into silence and he knew there wasn’t much more to be said. “We won’t hold you. Just wanted to say hi. Looking forward to the rest of the weekend.” Isaiah gave him a nod, picking up the bag again, and then he did something that pissed Jameson off. It was small, a quick gesture that probably wouldn’t have made him feel a way if he didn’t have feelings for Imani.

Isaiah urged her forward with a pat against her ass. “Let’s get settled in, baby.” He told her. And she listened. She did what he asked, moving forward and giving Jameson and Camille a quick wave. He bit down on his tongue so hard that he could swear he tasted blood. The urge to curse the stranger out so strong that he didn’t know what the fuck was coming over him.

He watched the two start to go up the stairs and a terrible idea occurred to him. One he was ashamed of…but he didn’t stop himself. He peered down at Camille, noticing she seemed a lot more relaxed to see that Imani had brought someone. “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” She said softly. “Mm.” Jameson said noncommittal. He didn’t want to admit that he knew. Instead, he focused on her. He brought both his hands around her waist, pressing to the small of her back. “Let’s go find the hot tub.”

Her eyes went wide. “We just got here. We need to find something to eat.” “I know what I want to eat.” He said softly, making her giggle.

Jameson moved to kiss the side of her head, moving down to her neck. He placed a few kisses there as Camille’s hands came to press to his shoulders…but that wasn’t getting the job done. He dragged his tongue along her skin, pride hitting him when she gave an involuntary whimper. Jackpot.

He peered up towards the stairs. Imani and Isaiah didn’t turn back but he saw her steps falter.

Good. Seeing Imani with someone else stirred something deep and unpleasant in him and part of him wanted her to know she had pissed him off.

Imani didn’t think to ask Genie if Jameson was coming to Aspen. All she wanted to do was be there for Genie. She had failed her so much during the year they had been apart. She knew there was a possibility. He and EJ were thick as thieves. Why wouldn’t he support his best friend as he took that next step with Genie? She needed to be prepared, so she took drastic measures by inviting Isaiah. It may have seemed foolish to invite someone she had only known for a month on a family trip, but she couldn’t bear the thought of facing Jameson and Camille alone. She still didn’t know how Jameson felt about her. Her latest Instagram post generated no response. He didn’t call or text her. There was nothing.

She was starting to think that he moved on for real this time. That he was done with her…until she spotted the glare on his face when he saw Isaiah. He was uncomfortable. Everyone else didn’t see it, but she did. She knew that exact look because it was familiar to her. Jameson further confirmed her suspicion when she spotted his glare at Isaiah after he patted her ass. He was jealous, just like she wanted him to be. It took everything in her not to smirk.

Imani took her victory in stride, trying not to appear too happy as she ascended the steps. She heard the kissing noises, but she paid them no mind. It wasn’t until she heard Camille whimpering that she nearly tripped over her feet. Like clockwork, her temper flared. Imani almost stomped a hole into the stairs with every step she took. Oh, this was how he wanted to play? Well, she could play that game too.

Once she reached the top step, she peered over her shoulder to see if Jameson was still there. He was. Without hesitation, her finger hooked into Isaiah’s belt loop. “Come here, daddy. I packed something special just for you.” She said softly, pulling him towards one of the bedrooms.

Isaiah’s intense gaze locked onto Imani, his dark eyes tracing every curve and contour of her body. He couldn’t help but to bite his lip in anticipation. “Well, what you waiting on, mama? Show me.” She laughed, probably a little too loud. Imani couldn’t see it but she could feel Jameson’s icy glare, it was cold enough to give her frostbite. She reveled in the feeling of power it gave her - she refused to let him have the upper hand over her, not now, not ever. 

Nina Dupree stood in the kitchen, peeking around the corner as she sipped from a mug of coffee. She heard company arriving but before she could go out and greet them -- she heard Jameson's striking voice come down. One look around the corner and she saw the exes come face to face. Her eyes went wide but she didn't say anything. Their voices didn’t carry, but their body language spoke volumes. Jameson was standing with another woman but his gaze consistently strayed to Imani. There was a tension between them that she was confused about how anybody could miss it. Seemed like messy unfinished business.

“Imani is here?!” Ella whispered, peering around the corner and leaning against her mother. Nina jumped, forgetting her daughter was in the kitchen with her. Her phone was in hand, the screen lighting up with a stream of notifications, but her attention was fixed on Jameson and Imani.

“Yes. Did your brother mention that to you?" Ella shook her head, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Jameson and Imani. She gave a low whistle. “Awkward. She's here with someone else?” “Seems like it,” Nina replied.

Ella tilted her head, studying the scene like it was a reality show. “Oh, that's gonna be a mess.”

Nina sighed, her gaze following her daughter’s. She saw the way Jameson’s arm tightened around Camille but his brows furrowed as he looked at the man next to Imani. It was subtle, but Nina caught it. She always did.

Ella leaned back, crossing her arms. “Bet you ten dollars we'll see hella drama this weekend.”

Nina shot her a look. “Ella.”

“What?” Ella grinned. “I’m just saying. You can’t put two people with that much history in the same house and not expect fireworks.”

“This is EJ’s trip,” Nina reminded her firmly. “Let them sort out their mess, but we’re staying out of it.”

Ella shrugged, her thumbs flying across her phone screen. “Fine. But if it gets messy, I’m tweeting it.”

“Little girl,” Nina warned, though her voice was more exasperated than angry.

“I'm playing, Mama.” She paused, then added with a smirk, “Mostly.”

Nina shook her head, but her attention drifted back to Jameson and Imani. The couples were starting to part and she watched Imani head up the stairs with a man in tow. She watched Jameson eyes follow her up even though he was pulling another woman closer and laughing. And then she saw Imani turned around. She saw the look on her face and knew it was going to be some shit with those two for the weekend.

Ella asked her softly, sensing that the tense scene in front of them was already over. “So, what’s the plan? We selling our story to TMZ or what? What about This Just In?”

“Ella Dinah Dupree,” Nina said reprimanded her, turning to face her youngest child, “Our job is to focus on EJ and Genie. This is their trip. Let the others figure out their own problems.”

Ella tsked, already typing something on her phone. “Aight but I already told you what I'm gonna do if they squabble up."

[tootalltech]

WALKER FIGHT! HE IS SO SMALL

[ozzgin]

Santa baby are you really there?!

*hears a voice in my backyard*

FUCK SKIN WALKER

- you make Yan skinwalker i’ll do anything to get a skin walker to love me … yes I am 100% mentally stable

I'm not sure if you had something horror-esque in mind, because my immediate idea was Reader accidentally getting cursed and continuing her life completely unaware with a ""dog"" everyone is freaked out by, but she finds it cute. So more like dark comedy vibes. You be the judge. :D

Disclaimer: I have changed the name to Shapeshifter as to not delve into potentially offensive takes on native folklore. Thank you for informing my European ass.

Yandere!Monster x Reader [Shapeshifter]

On your last hiking trip, you've stumbled upon a helpless, lost dog. Or rather, it stalked you down to your cabin and spent the night in front of your window. You didn't have the heart to abandon the poor soul and so you brought it home with you. Strange things have been happening ever since and no one knows how to tell you that the monstrous coyote-like creature might be to blame. You're oblivious to everything.

Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, reader is cursed and proud

It wasn't your intention to return home with a new pet. Some might say it was written in the stars, this fateful encounter of yours. You had finished packing your supplies for a day-long hike, vehemently refusing to join your group of friends that would be guided around by a native. They’d warned you many areas of the mountainous forest were supposedly cursed or haunted, so you just scribbled the limits on your makeshift map and promised to stay on the main trails. After all, this was your chance to commune with nature. As the sun begun to set, you wondered if going by yourself was indeed a smart idea, given your lack of spatial awareness and difficulty to navigate maps. You flipped the piece of paper several times, deep in contemplation. Could it be that you’ve reached the forbidden lands? You quickly surveyed the area: based on the stuffed rag dolls hanging from old branches, and the animal skulls arranged in patterns among patches of burnt grass, it was very much a possibility. Perhaps the improvised slab that said “Stay away” in dripping crimson letters should’ve been enough of a warning, but you assumed they’d just been creative with trail markers.

You didn’t have the time to panic. Just as you were furrowing your eyebrows in a final attempt to decipher the map (at the time upside-down), your ears picked up a faint shuffle of leaves. Further away stood a dog, its glossy eyes fixated on your form. A lost puppy? It seemed to be on the larger side, but then again some breeds grow rather fast. You lowered yourself and patted your knees, whispering diminutives in an effort to call the animal over. It remained in place, staring quietly. Alright, then. You focused on finding your way back instead. Every now and then you'd turn back and see the dog, motionlessly eyeing you at a constant distance. Oh, dear. Was it lost? Frightening affair.

Back at the cabin you told the others about your discovery, with a hint of worry in your voice. You hoped the little pup had found proper shelter. You'd expected a similar reaction coming from your friends, but one of them suggested: "What if it was some shapeshifting monster? There's many legends and stories from the area." Everyone laughed and you joined hesitantly, mildly annoyed by the lack of empathy. That night you barely slept, twisting and turning under the heavy feeling of being watched. You woke up tired and nervous, dragging your feet towards the window for some fresh air. That's when you saw the same forest creature, fully awake and tall in its glory, positioned before your room. This was no coincidence. You had been plagued by the guilt of abandoning a vulnerable quadruped and you weren't about to continue as a passive observer. You strode out without a word and lifted the large dog with a huff, carrying it back in to figure out the transport logistics.

Thus started the unexpected companionship. To you, it's a lovely tale of two lost souls finding one another. Most people seem to disagree. Can you blame them? The rescued puppy you often speak of is, in the eyes of everyone else, a monstrous beast by all definitions. It resembles a coyote more than a dog, but even this description is too gentle. The fur is always raised threateningly and the protruding clusters of fangs remind one of the anatomical anomalies displayed in museums. The eyes, oh, the worst of all perhaps, bottomless depths that pull you in until you run out of air. The creature stares with the all-knowing gaze of a human. "Don't be rude", you snap at whoever dares to point these details out. "It must be a mixed breed or something."

Their persistence is truly ridiculous. You've even had guests run out in panic, claiming the dog stood on its back legs and whispered in a language unknown. Or that its shadow would morph into a grotesque man with claws and crooked antlers. Or that they've found it hunched over your sleeping form, its spine twisted outwards with jagged peaks breaking through the wild fur. Rubbish, all of it.

Strange things have been happening, no doubt, but your adopted fur-child has no blame to carry. You've been trying to distract yourself, going on dates and occasionally bringing potential suitors over. They all vanish overnight, nonchalantly leaving an empty, ruffled bed for you to wake up to. "Am I just unlucky?" You sigh, running your fingers through the coarse fur of your dog. It lowers itself under your touch, visibly enjoying the affection. For a split second, it glances out the window. By the time you come out of your depressed slump, the birds should've finished feeding on the remains. He made sure to tear and grind everything fine enough to not leave any marks behind.

That's how curses work, after all. He didn't expect, however, that you'd be utterly unaware of it. He has to give you the credit, not many people become stalked by an ancient curse and continue their life in blissful ignorance. Even more, for them to just casually pick up the haunting entity and bring it inside their home willingly...You're, uh, certainly a special one. Hence the change of plans. He was supposed to torment you into an early grave, but he's grown rather attached to your bizarre antics. And you do provide some damn good chin scratches. He's therefore satisfied with causing anguish and destruction to anything and anyone in your immediate vicinity instead. Since you've been complaining about the resulting isolation...

You wake up with a gasp, wiping your drenched forehead and checking the sheets. The dog is curled next to you, although its head is now tilted in your direction. "O-oh. It might be the loneliness talking...but I had the strangest dream." How troubling and embarrassing. Your beloved pet had turned into a deformed, monstrous man instead, pinning you down and hungrily grazing your skin with his sharp teeth. Your fearful protests eventually turned into shameless moans, your frail body at the mercy of the mysterious beast. It unfolded so vividly that your core feels sore. You stretch a sheepish hand towards your pet and abruptly stop halfway, noticing the marks diffused into your wrist, like violet smudges of watercolor. What the hell did you do last night?

The dog buries its head under the sheets and nuzzles its snout into your soft flesh. Heh. How many more disappearing guests will be needed for you to figure out your situation? He does find your obliviousness terribly amusing, as well as your willingness to clutch onto him despite his unsightly appearance. He was feeling particularly cheeky and thought of giving you a little scare, only to be once again taken aback by your neediness. He has to wonder who exactly is trapped in this situation, because your reactions to everything he does are frighteningly tempting. Maybe tonight he'll finally let you know, just as you're about to come undone beneath his heaving body. Something like, hmmm. "By the way, love, this isn't a dream." He could even add a little "woof" to tease you more.

[carlsangel]

MY PARENTS’ RINGS

carl grimes x fem!reader

(you and carl have been “married” since childhood.)

tags: flufffff, slight angst, mentions of death.

masterlist here!

You’ve known Carl since you were born. Your moms were bestfriends from high school who’d miraculously gotten pregnant around the same time which, naturally, made you best friends as well. You can’t remember your guys’ first play date, you’d been having sleepovers with him every weekend as well.

Around kindergarten, there was an activity in class where you guys could make jewelry. Carl at the time was completely in love with you, although then you weren’t particularly interested in boys and were more interested in exploring and adventures, you needed someone to go on adventures with.

So, when he’d walked up to you on the playground with the ring he made very poorly, your five year old brain knew exactly where it was going. He proposed to you right there in the pokey wood chips under the slide which by the way was covered in cobwebs. How romantic. You thought that if he’d gone on many adventures with you previously, if he was your husband he’d be forced to be your adventure partner. So you said yes. On the condition he’d be by your side for all your escapades. “Anything for you angel.” He responded.

He held you to it, too. He’d continue to call you his wife and angel, a nickname that’d stick for the rest of your childhood. Everyone knew how much he’d loved you and how much he protected you from anything that could possibly harm you in any way. There was a spider in your room? He’d kill it. Someone was bothering you? He’d help you work it out. You got in an argument with your parents? He was close enough with them to argue with them for you. You ended up helping him through the death of his own father who was also someone you’d looked up to for a long time.

Then, the apocalypse started. You were at Carl’s house with Lori when Shane had arrived to round everyone up. They’d return back to your house to rally up your parents but when Shane went inside to get them, you heard his gun go off a couple times.

He walked out that house alone with a big frown on his face.

So you sobbed the whole time and Carl cuddled your side, holding your hand and occasionally shed some tears. He helped you process it, granted you both were ten but he knew what it was like to lose a parent. When Rick came back, he apologized oddly enough. “Angel…I’m sorry my dad came back.” He told you as you hid in the blanket on your cot that was set up in the Grimes’ tent. You flipped over on your side to look at him. “Why did yours get to come back and not mine?”

Your guys’ “marriage” hit a rough patch to say the least. At some point, Carl walked up to Rick with the dilemma. “My wife is mad at me…how do you make mom feel better?” He asked. Rick informed Lori on the situation and she helped you understand. So from there you dropped your little grudge and realized that you loved Carl back. It only took you maybe five years and yeah you were quite young to know you loved him the way you did, but he was the only person in your life who’d stay consistent; even with the world dying.

A good amount of time had passed, when Shane died the first thing you wanted to do was take anything he possibly had on him. So, you took his 22 necklace and his jacket. Handling his dead body that young wasn’t ideal but you needed to remember him. You shoved his necklace in your pockets and threw his jacket on before escaping from the walkers flooding into the farm.

Upon finding safety, you pull out Shane’s necklace to discover he’d kept your parents rings on his necklace. You didn’t say anything about it, you hid them for the right time. He’d notice them later but he kept quiet about it.

You’d gone through the prison, then Terminus. It felt like Carl had never stopped touching you throughout everything. He was holding your hand or maybe even had his hand gripping your thigh. He’d reassure you by holding you or kissing your cheek repeatedly. He made sure you were well fed while you and the group were on the road after losing Beth. “Here, Angel, take this.” He handed you half of his granola bar.

“Angel, need some water to wash that down?” Abraham nudged a water bottle your way, Carl looked at him funny which caught a couple people’s attentions. Abraham looked around. “What?” He questioned. No one really responded but Tara spoke up, clearing her throat awkwardly before speaking. “I’ve uh…I’ve learnt that ‘Angel’ is just a Carl thing.” She explains. Abraham processes and Rick sort of laughs. “Yeah I’ve known her since she’s was born…he won’t even let me call her that either.” He looks to Carl with a teasing smile, prompting the others to sort of smirk and giggle themselves. “Well my apologies.”

Carl gives Abraham a forgiving nod.

Getting to Alexandria was like a breath of fresh air. You and Carl were able to be somewhat of a normal teenage couple who could go on dates and make out in places they shouldn’t. He helped ease your nerves with the new environment, despite his own considering he didn’t know how real Alexandria really was.

He’d fallen more and more in love with you. At some point he’d brought up your kindergarten marriage.

“Do you remember when you said yes when I proposed to you in kindergarten?” He smiled at you as you leaned your head on his shoulder. The two of you were stargazing on a bench by Alexandria’s pond. “Yeah you’ve never let me forget it.” You respond with a small giggle. He pulled back to look at you. “Well I was thinking…with the way the world is and everything.” He chuckles nervously, looking down at your hands which were tightly gripping each other’s, “Maybe we can really be married.”

He stared at you, anticipating your answer. “Well, I dunno what you mean, we’ve been married this whole time.” You say sort of jokingly, causing him to smile, “I think you just mean official rings. I mean we’ve held the label this whole time. Not to mention you’ve stuck to your vows.” You remind him of how he’d promised to stick with you throughout everything. He nods for a moment, his eyes lingering on your face as he admires how beautiful you are in the light of the pretty moon. “Official rings would be nice.”

Without another word, you pulled your hand away, causing Carl’s expression to drop a tad as you dig into your pocket. Your hand comes back out of your jeans in a fist and you stick your hand out, gesturing for him to put his own out. He places his hand out flat and you drop two rings, the metals knocking into each other with a small clink as he looks into your eyes. “Wait really? Aren’t these…” His voice trails off and he looks at you intently.

“My parents’ rings.”

There’s a moment of silence before you take your dad’s ring from his palm and take his left hand, slipping it gently onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly, almost like it was fitted to him. He looks at it for what felt like ages before taking your mother’s ring in his hand. He gently held your left hand, sliding it on to your ring finger. The two of you put your hands between your bodies and just stare.

He tilts his head back up to look at you and before you could fully look at him he kissed you, gently holding the side of your face while he did so.

It was one of the thousands of kisses he’d given you, but this one was different.

Maybe you could go on honeymoon.

a/n: so anon actually wanted this full of fluff but i couldn’t help myself with some parts of angst LMAOOO sorry anon i hope u still like it. i actually think this is the cutest fucking thing i’ve written in a long ass time I LOVEEE IT SM!!! also for those who’ve been waiting for let me make it up to you part two THAT SHITS BEEN OUT idk not as many ppl saw it and there’s sm smut in that shit >_< anyway thank u sm for this cute ass request it was so fun to write and it got me out of my writing funk :)))

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh

[janiehellion]

Breaking Through

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl’s reckless behavior on a supply run nearly gets him killed, pushing you to remind him how to stay humble. Little did you know, his attitude was hiding something much deeper that only you could break through.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MOMMY KINK / SMUT / BODY WORSHIP / ORAL SEX / EDGING / TEASING / HURT / COMFORT / AFTERCARE / LANGUAGE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.799

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: LATE S5 & EARLY S6

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @mayday2007

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I truly hope I did your request justice! I also hope that the length of it is okay and that it met your expectations. And thank you so much for your patience!

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You leaned against the porch, one of the few spots in Alexandria that didn’t make you want to rip your hair out. It all felt too damn clean sometimes, too fake even. Here, it was easy to forget how the world had gone to shit, but... Daryl? He never let himself forget. He was walking around by the gate, looking like an animal waiting for a fight, and you knew why...

Rick and a few others were getting ready for a run—another trip outside the safe walls to scavenge for supplies. But more than that, it was an excuse for Daryl to escape the suffocation of Alexandria. He’d rather be out there with the walkers than in here, playing pretend.

"Daryl," you called out, and he stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes narrowing like he was already preparing for a lecture from you.

"What?" He grunted, sounding as defensive as ever. He was always on alert these days, and it was only getting worse since you arrived in Alexandria.

"Listen," you started, stepping down from the porch and running toward him as he prepared to leave. "I know you hate this place, and I understand; I really do, but you need to keep your head on straight out there. You’re not just out there for yourself. You’ve got Rick, Glenn, and Michonne with you today. You fuck anything up; they could get hurt too. Please, just be careful."

He looked away, scuffing his boot against the ground like a stubborn child who didn’t want to hear what you were saying. "Ain’t no damn kid. Can handle myself," he growled back at you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. "You might be able to handle yourself, sure, and we all know that you are more than capable of doing that, but that doesn’t mean you can act reckless. You need to listen to Rick, do what he says, and stop acting like a damn brat. You keep pulling this shit, and one of these days, it’s gonna bite you in the ass. Literally."

Daryl clenched his jaw and scoffed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually argue with you. But then he just shook his head. "Yer done now?"

"No, Daryl, I’m not done," you snapped back, feeling your frustration grow and almost boil over. "I’m tired of watching you do this bullshit, okay? We’re all trying to make this work, and you’re out there acting like you’ve got a death wish. We’ve lost too many people already, and I’m not about to lose you or anyone else because you couldn’t keep your damn self in check."

For a second, you saw something like vulnerability, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He looked away again, like he was trying to block out your words, not wanting to listen to you.

"Just... think about what I said, okay?" You said, the tone in your voice softening slightly. You didn’t want to push him too hard, but you couldn’t just let this slide again all the time. "I’m not trying to piss you off, Daryl. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. We all need you to come back. I... I need you to come back."

He didn’t say anything; he just gave you a nod before finally turning away. But as you watched him walk toward Rick, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that something bad was going to happen on this run.

Rick was already waiting by the gate, his hands on his hips as he looked around Alexandria. He seemed to be tired, but when he saw you approaching as well, he gave you a small smile.

"Did you talk to him?" Rick asked, his voice whispering, so only you could hear.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at Daryl, who was busy playing around with his knife. "But you know how he is. Stubborn as hell."

Rick laughed a little, but there was no real humor in it. "Yeah. Isn't that the truth? Don’t worry, I'll keep an eye on him while we’re out there, alright? If he does something stupid..."

"You'll make sure he doesn’t," you interrupted, not needing him to finish the sentence.

"Alright. Got it. We’ll be back before you know it," Rick said, louder now and turning to the gate as it opened, and Glenn arrived with the car. "We’re heading out. Stay close, keep quiet, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. We get what we need, and we get back. That's it."

You watched as Daryl took his crossbow and walked with Rick and the others over to the truck. You were worried, sure, but you forced yourself to stay calm. This was Daryl Dixon, after all. He was tough, he was resourceful, and he’d been through far worse than this. But still, there was that uncomfortable feeling in the back of your mind, the one that told you things weren’t going to go smoothly today.

Rick took Daryl aside in the meantime. "Listen, Daryl. We stick to the plan, and we get back without any extra bullshit. You got that?"

Daryl glared at Rick but didn’t say anything. You knew that look; it was the one that said he was going to do what he wanted anyway.

With that, Rick and the others—Glenn and Michonne, in this case—headed out, leaving you in Alexandria with the rest of the group.

You turned away, heading back to the house, but your thoughts were still with Daryl. You just hoped he’d listen to you for once, or rather, Rick. Because if he didn’t, you weren’t sure you’d be able to forgive him—or yourself—if something went wrong.

The truck stopped at the side of a parking lot some time later. Abandoned cars were standing around all over the place, with their windows shattered and rotting corpses still sitting in some of them. It was a graveyard. Rick turned off the engine and looked over to the building, his face already showing that things were about to get rough.

"This place is full of walkers," Rick mumbled, looking around the area. "Okay… We get in, we get out. No fucking around. Got it?"

Everyone nodded, even Daryl, though the look in his eyes told a different story. Alexandria was killing him slowly, suffocating him with its safety and daily routine, and one could see he was just waiting to break free, to remind himself what it felt like to be out there again, in the real world, and not living in an illusion.

"Stick together," Rick continued, his eyes narrowing at Daryl like he could read his mind. "We’re hitting that grocery store, grabbing what we can, and getting the hell out. Nothing else, no bullshit."

Daryl grunted in response, his hand tightening around his crossbow. He wasn’t making any promises; that was clear enough, but at least he wasn’t outright showing it. That would have to be good enough. The four of them got out of the truck, their weapons ready, and slowly made their way toward the store. It looked like it had been raided a few times already, but Rick had heard from Aaron that a shipment had been left behind in the storage rooms—lots of canned food, water, and even medicine inside the small pharmacy of the store, locked up in the back, just waiting to be taken. Easy, if they played it safe.

Of course, playing it safe had not been Daryl’s way of doing it lately, not when his blood was boiling, and especially not since the prison, Terminus, and the other hell everyone went through. And especially not ever since Alexandria.

They went through the side entrance, which was once for the people that had worked there, the glass doors hanging off their hinges, and one could easily guess how most of the walkers got into the store in the first place, apart from those walkers that’ve died inside while scavenging. The inside of the store was pure chaos, with broken shelves, rotten food, and other empty products all across the floor. They moved quietly as Rick led the way, his Colt Python out and ready as always, Glenn close behind with his knife drawn, and Michonne with her sword, while Daryl was at the end, pointing his crossbow around as well. They soon made it to the back of the store, where the stockroom doors were, without drawing any attention so far.

"Alright," Rick whispered, motioning for the others to cover him. "Glenn and I will try to open the door. Michonne, watch our backs. Daryl, you—"

But before Rick could finish, Daryl was already moving. He didn’t like waiting, didn’t like standing around while others decided what to do, or having to wait for a plan. Without a word, he went off to the right, disappearing down one of the side aisles, his crossbow at the ready.

"Daryl!" Rick hissed, but there was no stopping him.

"Shit," Glenn grumbled in a bit of annoyance and panic, his eyes looking at Rick. "Where the hell is he going? What is he doing?"

Rick shook his head in frustration. "Just... just stay here," he ordered before walking after Daryl, cursing to himself with every step.

Daryl moved fast, his crossbow raised as he approached the loading dock at the back of the store from another side. He could hear the sounds of walkers moving behind the metal door, but this was exactly what he was looking for. He shoved the door open with a grunt, with the door making a noise that could be heard all throughout the whole store.

The walkers inside turned at the sound, and they immediately moved forward, their arms outstretched.

"C’mon, ya ugly bastards," Daryl mumbled, the first bolt killing the nearest walker in an instant. The walker fell to the ground, but the others kept coming.

He reloaded quickly, but just as he was about to fire again, a hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him off balance. He hadn’t noticed the few other walkers, hidden in an open employee restroom nearby, their fingers grabbing his vest with their teeth only inches away from his face.

"Fuck!" Daryl growled, kicking the walker in front of him back and grabbing his knife. But he soon stumbled, falling down to the floor with the two of them on top of him. The impact knocked the knife from his hands, letting it slide across the floor, just out of reach, as he struggled to push the walkers off.

Then, just as the walkers’ teeth were about to bite into his flesh, several gunshots could be heard. Daryl gasped for breath, shoving the dead off him as he got to his feet, his heart racing while he looked over at Rick standing in the doorway with his Colt Python.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Rick said, lowering the gun. "What the hell were you even thinking?"

Daryl wiped the blood from his face, glaring at Rick but not saying a single word. He didn’t need to—he knew he’d fucked up, and Rick certainly knew it too.

But Rick didn’t wait for an explanation. "We need to hurry. Get your damn ass back to the truck. Now!"

For now, Daryl didn’t argue. He grabbed his crossbow and knife, putting it over his shoulder as he moved past Rick and over to Glenn and Michonne. He could feel Rick’s eyes on his back, judging him, and it took everything in him not to lash out. But he knew Rick was right. He’d been reckless, and it had nearly cost him his life. Not only that, but the supply run failed with the other walkers in the front of the store now moving toward the storage room.

Once outside, Daryl couldn’t ignore the thought that he’d fucked up more than just the run. He’d broken the trust, not just with Rick but with you. And he knew he’d have to face the consequences when he got back.

The sun was starting to set when you saw Rick and the others coming through the gate. You’d been waiting, walking around Alexandria, trying to distract yourself. But the deal had been clear—Rick would bring Daryl back in one piece and tell you every detail. But the moment you caught sight of Rick, you knew something had gone wrong. It was written all over his face, as was the fact that they had no supplies with them.

"Rick," you called out, running over to him.

He looked up at you, nodding and narrowing his eyes. You hated that look. It meant bad news, and you were tired of bad news.

"What happened?" You demanded as he walked next to you. "Where’s Daryl?"

"He’s fine," Rick said, holding up a hand to calm you down, though it didn’t do shit for your nerves. "I don't know where he is right now. Jumped right out of the truck. Physically, he’s okay. But, hell, it was close. Too close. Again."

Your stomach dropped at his words. This was getting out of hand. "What do you mean, 'close'?"

Rick rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for a moment. "We were in that store Aaron told us about, wanting to get the supplies. Daryl decided to go off on his own, like he always does lately. Didn’t wait for us as a backup, just did his own thing. Not even telling us that there was an easier way and that he has seen it. Next thing I know, he’s nearly got two walkers biting into his damn neck."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You asked, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "I told him—hell, we both told him so many times—not to pull that lone wolf bullshit anymore! And he still did it? I can’t fucking believe it!"

Rick nodded. "Yeah. Same old Daryl, too stubborn for his own good. I got there in time, but if I hadn’t... well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now."

You sucked in a breath, trying to calm the rage inside you. But it was hard—damn hard—when you pictured Daryl almost getting himself killed because he couldn’t follow simple instructions. "What the hell is wrong with him, Rick? Why does he keep doing this shit? Is Alexandria that bad for him? I mean, yeah, we all aren’t used to this... illusion, but hell, we’re at least trying to make the best of it! All of us!"

Rick sighed, leaning against the porch railing once you both arrived at the house. "I don’t think it’s only about Alexandria, not entirely. But yeah, it’s too controlled, too... fake. So he goes out there, trying to prove he’s still... still who he was out there. But it’s not like none of us tries the exact same thing. We all do. Or did."

You shook your head in frustration. "I get it; I do. But we can’t keep going on like this. He’s going to get himself killed—or worse, get someone else hurt. I’m fucking done sitting around, hoping he’ll pull his head out of his damn ass!"

Rick looked at you with a small smile. "By now I was thinking the same thing on the way back. We’ve tried to talk sense into him, but he isn’t listening. He’s too stubborn."

"That’s it," you finally said. "I’m handling this. If he won’t listen to you, maybe he’ll finally listen to me. But one way or another, this shit stops today, I swear."

Rick’s eyebrows moved up in surprise before he nodded slowly. "You sure? I don’t think you should push him into a corner."

You smirked, but it was more due to annoyance than amusement. "Oh, I’m sure. He’s going to learn today that there’s more than one way to get his damn ass in line. Trust me, Rick. Otherwise… Otherwise, I just don’t know what to do anymore."

Rick laughed a little and shook his head. "Alright then. Just don’t go too hard on him. And you must remember that it takes time. With… all of this."

You waved him off, already halfway down the steps of the porch. "He’ll be fine, Rick."

As you headed toward the garage, where you knew Daryl was probably working on his bike, your mind was already racing with what you were going to say. This wasn’t just about Daryl acting like a reckless asshole—this was about keeping him and the others alive, keeping him from throwing away everything you’d fought so hard for in this new world, with the rest of the group.

The moment you stepped into the garage, he barely looked your way, too focused on tightening a bolt that didn’t even need any more tightening. But you weren’t about to let him ignore you, not after what Rick had told you.

"Daryl," you started, but he only grunted in response, and that was about it—just a damn grunt, like he couldn’t be bothered to reply with words. And it pissed you off how he could be so nonchalant after nearly getting himself killed.

"Look at me," you snapped, stepping closer to him. "I said... Look at me, Dixon."

He paused, his hand stilling on the wrench, before finally looking into your eyes with a scoff.

"You think you can just go off on your own and do whatever the fuck you want? Well, guess what, Daryl? You almost got your damn throat ripped out today. And for what? Because you couldn’t listen? Because you’re too stubborn to accept that you’re part of a community now, and not some lone wolf out there in the woods with a group he helps out every now and then?" You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ain’t like that," he mumbled, but it didn’t really sound like he was trying to defend himself.

"Bullshit!" You shot back, stepping even closer until you were right in his face, close enough to see the way his eyes widened slightly. "It’s exactly like that, and you know it. And for what? To prove something? To whom? You ain’t gotta prove anything to me, Daryl. And certainly not our group. But you do owe it to us to stop acting like a fucking idiot!"

He turned away from you, but you weren’t done yet. "This isn’t just about you anymore, Dixon. Every time you pull this shit, you put everyone at risk. Everyone! You get bit, we lose a member of this group. A member of our damn family! You die, and we all suffer! Do you even get that? Or are you that stuck with your own damn head up your ass that you can’t see that?"

"Ain’t need ya shittin’ on me," he growled, his voice quiet, but you caught something like guilt in it. "Can handle my ass."

"Clearly," you snapped at him with sarcasm. "Because you handled yourself so well today that Rick had to pull your ass out of a walker’s mouth. Real smooth, Daryl! Real fucking smooth!"

He flinched at that, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to face you. "Ain’t like I needed any damn help."

You didn’t back down, though. You were way past that. "And that’s the problem, Daryl. You think that you don’t need anyone. But guess what? You do. You need us, and we need you. So stop acting like an asshole and start thinking about what you’re doing to everyone else."

For a second, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he just looked at you—really looked at you—like he was trying to figure something out. "Why ya care s’ much?" He finally asked.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Because I give a shit, you damn idiot. Because I... care about you more than anyone else here even knows, and I’m not about to watch you throw your life away over some macho bullshit, or whatever you’re trying to act like. You think I want to lose you? You think any of us do?"

He stared at you. "Ain’t tryna make shit harder," he muttered, looking down at the ground, shrugging his shoulders. "Jus’... can’t stand it ‘ere sometimes. Ain’t me ‘round ‘ere."

"Who you are isn’t some reckless idiot who doesn’t give a damn about anyone else. Who you are is someone who’s saved more lives than you can count, someone who’s part of a family now. And yeah, maybe it’s different here and maybe it’s hard, but that doesn’t give you the right to check out whenever you feel like it, as if this community is a fucking hotel!"

He didn’t say anything; he just kept looking at you with those blue, searching eyes, like he was waiting for you to give him something—some kind of direction.

You took a deep breath. "Daryl, you need to stop this shit. You need to stop before you get yourself killed. And if you won’t listen to Rick, then you’ll damn well listen to me. Got it?"

"Yeah," he said, almost whispering. "Got it."

"Good," you said. "Because this stops now. You’re done running off, done putting yourself at risk for no damn reason. From now on, you listen, just like before. We’re all a big team, Daryl, and we still are despite everything. Understand?"

"Yeah… Do ya still lo—" He started but stopped himself from speaking any further. "Are ya mad?"

"What? No, I’m not mad," you answered, stepping back to leave, wanting to give him some space. "But I’m hurt and disappointed."

Daryl sat there for a long time after you left. He gritted his teeth, and his fists were clenched, but it wasn’t anger. It was guilt. Shame even. All he knew was that he’d fucked up.

"Stupid, stupid fuckin’ idiot," he mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair while he could still hear your voice in his head. "Fuckin’ piece o' shit. Can’t even keep yer damn head straight."

He felt like a fool, like a stubborn kid who’d just been put in his place. But it wasn’t just the anger that stuck with him—it was the look in your eyes, the pain and fear of what could’ve happened to him.

"Gotta make this right," he grumbled, now walking around the garage. "Ain’t gonna let her think I’m some reckless asshole who don’t care ‘bout nothin’." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She’s right… Been actin’ like a damn idiot. But… shit, need t’ prove I ain’t just some fuckup."

He knew you’d left him alone on purpose, letting him think about it, just like you’ve done several times before. But this time, he wasn’t going to sit here and wait for you to come back. He had a plan—a rather half-baked plan, but it was all he had. He needed to show you how much you meant to him and how much he needed you.

"Fuck, she’s gonna kill me," he sighed, shaking his head as he made his way out of the garage. And he knew exactly where and in what house he was going to find you.

You were already half asleep, lying on the floor on a mattress, when you felt someone being there—before you even opened your eyes. It was Daryl, of course, kneeling over you as he carefully pulled the sheets back.

"What the hell are you doing, Dixon?" You mumbled, still groggy. "Leave me alone."

He didn’t answer right away; he just pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another, moving down your arm, his lips barely touching your skin. It was slow on purpose, like he was trying to worship every inch of you to make up for all the stupid shit he’d done. And it was working, even if it pissed you off that he thought he could just... seduce his way out of this.

"Daryl," you warned, but your voice was weak due to the way his strong, big hands were now sliding down your sides to your waist.

"‘M sorry," he whispered, before he kissed the sensitive spot on your neck. "Fucked it up, I know that. But need ya to know... I ain’t a fool. I need ya, more than ya fuckin’ know."

You wanted to stay mad, to shove him away from you and tell him to get his shit together, but his touch—God, it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he was taking away your anger with every kiss and every touch of his hands. And when he put his head lower, kissing along your ribs after he pulled up your shirt, you felt almost frustrated.

"Daryl," you breathed out as a warning again, but he didn’t stop. He slid his hands further up your shirt, pulling it over your head as he kissed down your ribs, his fingers grabbing your body like he was trying to show you that he was still alive.

"Need ya," he mumbled against your skin, his voice sounding almost desperate. "Need ya t’ know I ain’t takin’ this for granted."

"Daryl, stop…" You started, but your words were cut off by a gasp as he found that spot just above your waist, his lips kissing you harder, and his teeth softly biting your skin. You felt a shiver run through you, and hell, you hated how much you wanted this, how much you wanted him to keep going.

"I’ll stop if ya want me to, I swear," he whispered, but he didn’t stop, not really. His hands slid down, undoing your pants and wanting to slide them down, which made you stop breathing for a moment.

You were looking at him, your eyes narrowing. "You think you can just—" You started, but then he shut you up—kissing you hard and long, cutting off your words. And fuck, if it didn’t make your whole body shiver with need.

"Can’t help it," he muttered against your lips, his voice a little shaky, like he was losing control. "Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, ‘bout how much I need ya."

"You think this makes up for what you did? For your reckless behavior?" You asked, shaking your head slightly.

"Nah," he admitted. "Gotta show ya somehow. Gotta show ya how much I fuckin’ care."

You grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from your pants, even though you were already aching for him. "You don’t get to touch me like that," you said. "Not until I say so."

He swallowed hard, his breath stopping as he nodded, his eyes wide. "Please," he whispered, looking up at you and waiting for permission.

"Please what?" You demanded, tightening your grip on his wrists. "You think you can just come in here and expect me to forgive you? After everything?"

"Nah," he stammered, his eyes looking down to the floor again. "But… I need ya. I need ya t’ see that I can make it right."

"You wanna make it right, Daryl?" You asked again. "Then you’re gonna do exactly what I say, like I said."

"Yeah," he answered, his body almost trembling with the need to make you forgive him. "I’ll do whatever ya want."

You let go of his wrists, letting them fall back to his sides. "Take off your clothes," you ordered, the tone in your voice leaving no room for argument.

He hesitated for just a second, but then he started to stand up and get out of his clothes, his hands shaking as he got out of his shirt, then his pants, and the rest, until he was standing there, naked and vulnerable before you.

"Now get back on your knees," you demanded, watching as his eyes widened.

He dropped to his knees, waiting for your next command. And fuck, if that didn’t send a rush of power straight through you.

You stood over him, your hand reaching out to grab his hair, pulling his head back so he was forced to look up at you. "Look at me."

And he did. He slowly looked up in shame.

"You don’t get to play the lone wolf out there," you continued, stepping closer, your hand grabbing his chin, moving his head up further. "Not anymore. You almost got yourself killed."

"I know," he muttered. "‘M sorry..."

He wanted—no, he needed—to show you how he felt about his mistakes, and he was ready to do it on his knees if that’s what you demanded.

You let go of him, letting him fall forward, as you lay back down onto the mattress. "Show me," you simply said.

And he did—God, he did... He kissed every inch of you, his lips moving lower, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you might disappear, and he held onto you like you were the only person able to keep him safe.

He didn’t need to be told twice—he knew what he had to do to make things right.

You leaned back on the mattress, spreading your legs just enough to invite him closer, and watched his hands shake a little as they slid up your thighs.

"Yes," he whispered quietly. He was trying to be tough, but you could see through it. The man was already lost in you, in the need to make you feel good to make up for his earlier bullshit.

No, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; the way he now nearly ripped off the rest of your clothes was almost urgent.

"Goddamn," he whispered, his eyes wide and hungry as he took in the sight of you. "So fuckin’ beautiful."

His hands were trembling as he reached for your bra, fumbling with it before finally getting it off. He slid it off your shoulders, throwing it over to your pants on the floor, his eyes never leaving your breasts.

Daryl’s mouth went dry as he leaned in, his lips stopping just above one nipple. "Can’t believe yer lettin’ me touch ya like this," he whispered, more to himself than to you. Then he closed his mouth around your nipple, his tongue moving over it, making you gasp.

He sucked and licked, using his teeth just a little, sliding them lightly against it, while his other hand was pinching and rolling the other.

"Fuck, Daryl," you groaned, your hands moving through his hair, holding him close as he worshiped your breasts like they were the most important things in the world. "Don’t stop."

He growled against your skin and kept going; he kept sucking, licking, and teasing until your nipples were swollen and hard, sensitive to every little touch.

He soon pulled back, a line of spit connecting his mouth to your nipple before it broke, and he greedily licked over it once more. His eyes were full with need, his breathing heavy as he looked up at you, like he was waiting for permission to keep going.

"You’re going to be a good boy and keep worshipping me?" You asked, your voice teasing and commanding him at the same time.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Please… Need t’…"

"Then do it," you ordered, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Daryl’s hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, moving along your hips before coming to a stop between your legs. His fingers brushed against your pussy, finding you already wet and wanting, and he let out a growl.

He started slowly, almost with hesitation, like he was worshipping at some holy altar. His lips brushed over the inside of your thighs, soft at first, but when you grabbed his hair again, he got the message. His mouth found your pussy the moment he ripped off your panties, and it was as if a switch flipped.

Daryl buried his face between your legs, his tongue working desperately, like he couldn’t get enough of you. You let out a moan, your hand tightening in his hair, guiding him but also keeping him under your control.

"Fuck, Daryl," you breathed out. "Just like that."

And he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. Every part of him was focused on you—on the taste of you, the way you trembled when he hit just the right spot. He was completely at your mercy, with the need to prove himself to make you proud.

You could feel him moan against you and how he was getting lost in it, in you. You knew he was desperate for more, desperate for any sign that he was doing good and that you’d forgive him. But you weren’t about to make it easy for him. Not yet, at least.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to get him away from you, and he looked up at you, his lips wet and parted, already missing the taste of you. "Please," he growled out, and you could see the need to do more, to have more of you.

"You keep listening to me. You understand?" You asked, caressing his head gently.

"Yeah," he stammered and nodded in return.

You pushed his head back down, with his tongue slipping inside your pussy almost immediately, like he was trying to eat out every bit of forgiveness he could get.

And fuck, did it feel good. The way he was eating out your pussy, every little move of his tongue, the way he sucked on your clit just hard enough to make you see stars—it was like he was made for this, made to worship you.

"Fuck, don’… don’ make me stop," he growled out in between. He was trembling now, hands still gripping your hips tightly, his eyes wide with something that seemed close to panic, like he couldn’t stand being away from you for even a second.

But you leaned down, grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at you. "You want to make this right? You wait until I’m ready."

He nodded quickly, swallowing hard, his eyes pleading without a word and barely holding it together. He was ready to do anything you asked, to wait as long as you wanted him to, just for a chance to taste you again.

"Good boy," you moaned, suddenly pulling him up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips. He kissed you like he was starved for it, holding on for dear life.

And you could feel how hard he was—the desperate twitching of his already leaking cock against your thigh—but you weren’t done teasing him yet. "You’re doing so good, Daryl. Go on now."

"Yes, mommy," he whimpered, the word coming out of his mouth before he could even stop it.

"What did you just call me?" You asked in shock and froze.

Daryl’s eyes widened in shock and panic. "Didn’t mean t’ say that," he said, his voice trembling. "I jus’—"

"Say it again," you commanded, cutting him off. "Say it."

He swallowed hard, his eyes looking around as if searching for an escape, but he knew he couldn’t hide from you. "Yes, mommy," he whispered quietly, a shiver running through him as he said the word again.

But you didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to the floor. "Good boy," you simply answered. "Go on…"

He didn’t hesitate, his hands following the curves of your body again, his lips following close behind. He kissed down your neck, in between your breasts, along your stomach as he moved lower, his hands soon enough sliding up your thighs and over your pussy.

"Shit," he mumbled, his eyes widening as he realized just how ready you were for him. "Yer so fuckin’ wet."

He didn’t say anything else, too focused on what he was doing. His fingers moved through your wet folds, teasing you until you were trembling with need, and he circled your clit with his thumb slowly on purpose, watching your face for every little reaction.

And one moan—that was all he needed. He leaned in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue sliding over your clit, licking and sucking it gently all over. He didn’t rush, didn’t hurry, and took his time.

"Fuck, Daryl," you moaned, your fingers gripping his hair, holding him in place as he devoured you. "That’s it… don’t stop."

He didn’t need to be told twice. He kept going, kept licking, sucking, and teasing until you were right on the edge and close to coming.

The control he was giving you made you feel powerful, and hell, if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever experienced.

"Please, mommy," he begged. "Lemme make ya cum now."

"Keep going," you commanded, feeling yourself getting closer due to his words. "Don’t stop. Oh, fuck…"

He obeyed, and when you finally came, you gasped and moaned, your body arching and trembling under the force of it. But as soon as you began to come down from your orgasm, you noticed how he started to get more aggressive, his hands gripping your hips harder. He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into yours as he moved back up.

"Wanna fuck ya," he growled almost primal, grabbing his cock and pushing it against your pussy.

But you shoved him back. "Not so fast," you said. "You’re going to do it my way."

He looked at you with frustration and desperation. "But… I need ya," he said, his voice cracking a little bit. "Please!"

You didn’t give in. Instead, you watched as he tried to hold himself back. "If you want more, you’re going to have to do it my way, Daryl. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Yeah, ‘kay," he murmured and nodded, his voice trembling.

"Not yet," you said, wrapping your hand around his shaft. The hardness of his cock was pulsing against your hand, and you enjoyed the power it gave you. "You’re going to wait a little longer."

Daryl’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the mattress as he tried to control himself. "Please," he begged, his voice raw and desperate. "Need it."

You only smiled, slowly stroking him, your movements maddeningly slow. "You want more?" You teased, leaning closer to him. "You want me to keep going? To make you cum already as well?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes! Please, mommy. Can’t take it no more!"

You took your time, each move up and down his shaft, making him moan and writhe.

"Fuck, don’ stop," he groaned. "Please, I can’t—"

"Hush now," you interrupted, squeezing his cock. "You’re going to wait until I say so. If you want to be a good boy, you’ll follow my instructions."

Daryl’s cock was coated in his pre-cum and throbbing in your hand, and every time you squeezed just a little harder, he would shiver, his voice breaking into pleas and whimpers.

"Please… ‘M so close," he whimpered. "Can’t hold back much longer."

You looked down at him, smirking, and then you jerked him faster and harder, bringing him right to the edge. His body was tense and almost painfully trying to hold off his orgasm.

"Daryl," you said softly, your hand driving him mad. "I want you to beg for it. Just a little bit more."

His pleas turned into desperate murmurs as he struggled with himself. "Please… Need t’… Jus’ let me... Oh fuck!"

With a final pump, you brought him right to the very edge again, feeling his cock throbbing against your palm. Then, just when you could see he was about to break, you pulled back, stopping altogether.

Daryl let out a whimper, his eyes desperate. "Fuck, please… Need it."

You leaned in close, kissing his neck. "Not yet. I want you to really feel it, to know how much you need me."

"Please," he begged again. "Please..."

"Tell me how much you need it," you smiled at him.

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Need it so bad, mommy, please... Need t’ cum for ya. Need ya..."

You gave him one final, hard stroke, and then you stopped again, making him groan and tremble over you, the muscles in his arms tensing up painfully hard. "Good boy," you whispered, finally giving him permission to slide into your pussy, just not all the way.

"No further," you said. "Just the tip. Hold it back."

He groaned, his hands gripping the sheets next to you on the mattress. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Lemme fuck ya..."

You ignored his pleas, your hand still pumping up and down his shaft. "Say it," you commanded. "Say you’re my good boy, Daryl."

"‘M yer good boy," he mumbled, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

Finally, when you could see the look on his face—the way he was practically begging to come—you leaned in. "You want it now?"

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, mommy..."

His cock was pulsing, the tip pressing into you just enough to make him groan but not enough to give him what he wanted.

You watched as a sudden tear rolled down his cheek—a single, small, and tiny drop. The sight of it—so rare for someone like Daryl—made you widen your eyes. You could see the complete surrender—the way he was completely at your mercy.

Without warning, you pushed against him, taking him all the way in, and made him cry out, his body shuddering as he filled you up and feeling your pussy stretch around his cock. The look of shock and ecstasy on his face was too much, even for you. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly, and his cock was pulsing inside you, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Fuck! Fuck…"

And the moment you took him in fully, he came hard inside of you with a loud groan, his body trying to push in as deep as possible as he reached his orgasm, while you held him close, feeling the last of his cum filling you up as he finished.

You soon lay there, your body still tingling, but Daryl, on the other hand, was a mess after he quickly pulled out of you. Now his walls were coming back up, and he was doing his best to act like he didn’t need a damn thing from you.

He was trying to play it cool, turning his face away, still shaking a little bit. "Jus’… gotta go," he mumbled, trying to shove you away. "Don’ need ya all up in m’ shit now."

"Oh, come on. You can’t be serious," you smirked, running a finger teasingly down his chest.

He glared at you, trying to push you away once more. "‘M fine. Jus’ leave me ‘lone," he grumbled.

"Look at you, all tough and cold again. But you were begging for it only a minute ago." You let your hand move over his skin, feeling his muscles twitch. "And now you’re just going to be an ass about it? Not a chance."

He froze as you touched him. "Shut up," he snapped. "Don’t need yer damn pity."

You rolled your eyes, leaning in close. "Pity? This isn’t pity, Daryl."

He tried to pull away again, but you held him close, your hands moving up to his chin. You tilted his head so he had no choice but to look at you.

"Seriously?" You said with a smile. "You’re going to act like a brat now? After everything?" You moved closer, teasing him with a kiss on his lips.

Daryl’s breath stopped for a second, and you felt him shudder under your touch. "Fuck off," he muttered, but it was sounding rather weak, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You laughed, cupping his chin more firmly. "Make me. Or... maybe you really are just a brat who needs to be put in his place all over again."

He shivered as he fought with himself. "No… Don’ need this," he mumbled, but it was clear he was losing the battle against himself. His voice was getting quieter, and he knew that he was failing miserably.

Then, you finally met his lips with yours. It was a slow, gentle kiss, with you wanting to give him reassurance. He moaned against them, the sound full of desperation.

When you pulled back, you saw how his eyes were wide, and he suddenly nuzzled up against you, his face buried in your neck, his body trembling as if he was trying to hold onto whatever was left of his defenses.

"‘M so sorry," he murmured against your skin, his voice breaking. "Didn’ mean t’... I jus’—"

You ran your fingers through his hair, cuddling him closer as he clung to you. "Quiet," you whispered, putting your lips against his forehead. "It’s okay."

He wrapped his arms around you, his grip a little rough as if he was afraid you might slip away. "I fucked up," he said. "Almos’ got m’self killed an’ hurt ya. ‘M so damn sorry."

You held him close, his body pressed against yours. "I know," you said softly. "But you’re still alive, Daryl."

But the moment of calm was ruined when Daryl’s body tensed up again, with him starting to sob violently.

"Shit," he choked out, tears rolling down his cheeks. "‘M such a fuckin’ asshole. Messed everythin’ up. Could’ve died an’—"

You shushed him, holding him even tighter, pressing kisses to his temples. You didn’t say much, letting your actions speak louder than any words even could.

He kept mumbling apologies, his sobs so intense that they shook his whole body. "Ain’t good ‘nough. ‘M worthless. Jus’ a useless piece o’ shit," he sobbed further, his voice cracking.

You gently cupped his face again, lifting it so you could look into his wet eyes. Slowly, you wiped the tears away with your thumbs, kissing his cheeks where the tears had been rolling down.

"Hush," you whispered softly. "You’re not a useless piece of shit. You’re not worthless. You made a mistake, but you’re here, and you’re alive. That’s what matters."

He needed to hear that you weren’t disappointed and that you still loved him despite everything.

Daryl looked up at you, his eyes all red and swollen, but his sobbing began to calm down. And as he finally started to relax, his grip on you softened, but he didn’t let go. He was still clinging to you, needing you to remind him that he was loved and that he was enough.

"Thanks," he whispered quietly. "For… everythin’."

You smiled to yourself, playing with his hair. "Anytime," you murmured, pressing another soft kiss to the top of his head.

You didn’t need to say anything more; your arms around him were enough to help him find his way back to feeling okay. The walls he’d built were finally down, and for now, he was just Daryl—raw and in need of someone to help him piece himself back together.

[kittyhui]

woozi baby fever + texts

woozi x afab! reader

- jihoon never thought he would have baby fever

- tbh he didnt even think he wanted kids; being so busy with work anyways

- he definitely changed after meeting you though

- after dating for more than 6 months, he’ll be thinking about marriage and children hopeless romantic ugh

- after marriage or a few years of dating, his baby fever goes through the roof

- if he sees you with a baby or a small child, he will practically keel over with the thought of you with his child

- he acts like he hates children but he stays up at night thinking about you pregnant with his baby

- He feels insane when he makes lullabies instead of demos for his group. He has a folder named ‘for FC’ (for future child) full of songs for his non existent baby and he avoids any questions from his members and you when asked who FC is.

- Whenever he sees dad’s with their children he dies inside. He imagines that being him and him taking his baby out for a walk and taking them to his studio, playing them music

- one day, he hit his breaking point. He was hanging out with seungcheol and hoshi and they were talking about their babies (kkuma and latte LMAO) and how they were thinking of buying them cute winter doggy jackets and sweaters. they showed him picture after picture of clothes for their ‘babies’, sending his mind into overdrive. He wanted a baby. He wanted to buy his baby cute clothes and spoil them the way he spoils you. He didn’t just want it. He needed it.

- The moment he came home you could tell something was up. Sometimes jihoon would be a bit out of it, usually because of work and lyrics. This was different though. He was clinging to you unusually, his head resting on your stomach and his hands gripping your waist soft but firmly, not wanting to hurt you yet not wanting to let you go. He refused to talk whenever you asked what was wrong and would just blush deeper and deeper

- “Jihoon.” You finally say, tired of him evading your questions. Your stern voice makes him lift him head to look at you. “Is something going on? You’re acting strange today?” you were beyond concerned now as his ears turn a deep red and his eyes look away from yours.

- “I was with cheol and soon earlier…” he trails off nervously, “and I realized that I want a child with you. So badly. I’ve just been thinking about filling you up and I just want you to have my kid so badly. I’d take care of her so well, spoil both of you to death…” he cuts himself off, feeling embarrassed seeing your shocked face.

- “She?” is the first thing you say, smiling at him. jihoon quirks his head to the side confused, “you said, you’d take care of her so well. What if it’s a boy, hoonie?” you giggle at him, before leaning in to kiss jihoon’s cheek.

- “Boy or girl, id take care of them” he looks you in the eyes, “promise”

- You giggle at his seriousness, nodding at him. “Let’s have a baby then, ji” his smile is so wide it hurt, kissing you hard.

- “Thank you, baby. Thank you...”

- Now, after you get pregnant.. he’s actually insane.

- He tried to act calm and collected but if you try and carry anything heavier than your phone, he will carry it for you.

- He calls you every 40 minutes when he has schedules, asking you if he needs to come home early or if you need anything

- He bought a crib, walker, and a changing board for his studio as well as for your home. He spares no expense

- The moment you start showing, he will have his head on your stomach 24/7.

- “I felt them kick!” “Hoonie, I’m only 13 weeks, I don’t think the baby’s kicking” he doesn’t believe you btw

- Now, he will finally show you his ‘for FC’ folder, playing the songs in his studio for you and the baby to listen to

- He is always worried once you get close to your due date, convincing his company to put him on hiatus and work from home producing songs until the baby is born.

- “I’ll be fine, jihoon. The guys need you” “pretty, you are going to have a baby any minute now. They understand that you need me more.”

a/n: this is so funny cuz i actually dont want kids but woozi baby fever is so real argue with a wall

[coquitokisses]

Back Together | Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader, (husband!Bucky Barnes x wife!reader, dad!Bucky Barnes x mom!reader)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/Tags: Bucky being dad and hubby material, fluff, angst maybe?

Summary: Bucky and reader are married and have two girls, but because of Bucky’s work, reader decides to “break up” and have been separated for a few months. (Let’s say that this “job” was when the whole thing with John Walker happened in TFATWS, idfk lol)

A/N: so I’m currently writing a fanfic (on wattpad) and I had this idea, but I’m not there on the fanfic just yet lol so I decided to just post it here (also, my first language isn’t english so if there are any errors or mistakes, I’m sorry lmao)

The girls are like 4 and 5 years old and those aren’t the names I have planned on using for the fanfic, but it’ll do for now.. and Steve is alive and well lol (he doesn’t make an appearance, but I do mention him, like I said, this idea came as I was writing a fanfic so what I did was try and edit it a little bit so yall don’t need context and shit lol just enjoy okay?)

A/N #2: this is my first time doing this so just bare with me please lmao

It’s almost 10 pm which means Bucky must be on his way to bring the girls back after having them for the weekend. You were away in Seattle the whole weekend for work, but anyways it was Bucky’s turn to stay with the kids. They were supposed to stay with Wanda tonight, but since you arrived earlier than anticipated, you told her that Bucky was gonna bring them over.

You’re not on the best terms. Actually, you’re broken up at the moment and have been like that for like three months now. It all started because of Bucky’s “job”. You always said that he wasn’t being careful with the things he did and you didn’t like the constant worrying about him every time he went out to do his things. He didn’t really see it that way which made you get into a really bad fight and you decided to break up because he wasn’t putting his safety, or his family, as a priority and you didn’t like that.

Which was kinda true. So you’re currently not living together. Bucky has been staying with Steve, or with Sam whenever he comes to New York. The girls usually stay with you and then Bucky takes them on the weekends, but whenever you can’t take them to school (or get them on time) or something on week days, then Bucky takes them without a problem.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pick them up for you?” Wanda asked while on FaceTime with you

“It’s alright, red, don’t worry.” You replied “Besides, Bucky’s probably on his way anyway.”

“Still haven’t talked?”

“Well we talk, just not about us.” You said walking out of the kitchen

“And are you guys still, like, mad or..?”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“Steve told you he got out.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I just.. I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him about it.”

“Well I think you need to.” She said “Just have a little chat and see where things are at.. you guys still love each other.”

And you did. Of course you did. And the girls want you to get back together too. But you just haven’t talked about it again.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You replied and just as you said that, you saw the car lights through the window “He’s here, I gotta go.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, love you.”

“Love you more.”

You hung up the call and left the phone on the couch before heading to the door. You opened it and saw Bucky walking over to the house holding Olivia, your youngest, in his arms and Eloise was walking right next to him. And the three of them just looked tired as hell.

“Hi mommy.” Eloise ran over to you

“Hi, pretty girl.” You immediately hugged her

“Say hi to mama, Liv.” Bucky said as he got closer

“Hi mama.” Olivia opened her arms wanting you to pick her up so you did

“Hi, my angel.” You kissed her cheek

“Sorry to bring them so late, we just got out of the cinema.” Bucky said

“Buck, it’s fine, they don’t even go to school yet.” You told him “Did you guys have fun?” You asked the girls

“So much fun!” Eloise replied excitedly “We also went to the trampoline park earlier.”

“Oh well that explains why someone’s a little more tired than others.” You looked at Olivia and she rested her head on your shoulder

“Mommy, can daddy tuck us in tonight, please?” Eloise asked

“Baby, I’m sure mommy had a really long and tired flight and she just wants to sleep.” Bucky told her

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You said “Daddy will tuck you in, sweetheart.” You tucked a few strands of Eloise’s hair behind her ear

“Daddy, come on.” She grabbed Bucky’s hand

You all went inside and you gave the girls a quick shower before Bucky helped them get in their pjs.

“Mommy, are we staying with auntie Wanda tomorrow?” Eloise asked as she got on her bed

“Yes, baby, I need to go to work.” You replied

“Can’t we stay with daddy?”

“Daddy works too, honey.” You moved her hair out of her face “I thought you liked staying with auntie Wanda.”

“We do, but we wanted to stay with daddy again.” Olivia spoke

“Well I can pick you up at auntie Wanda’s house when I get out of work, how does that sound?” Bucky told them

“And we can get dippin dots too?” Olivia looked at him with puppy eyes

“We can get whatever you girls want.” He said squishing her cheeks making her giggle

You couldn’t help but smile a little. You loved watching Bucky with the girls, he really is an amazing father and they love him like crazy.

“Alright it’s getting super late, time to sleep.” You said to them

“But mom!” Eloise pouted

“No buts, listen to your mom.” Bucky said “Come on, get in bed both of you.”

Each of the girls got in their beds and Bucky went and tucked them both. They have their own separate rooms, but they’re pretty close and they’ve always wanted to sleep in the same room so when the time came and you bought Olivia her big girl bed, Bucky just placed it in Eloise’s room. Anyways, when the time comes when they get to the point where they don’t even want to look at each other, you’ll probably make Bucky move Olivia’s bed back to her room and problem solved. But for now, they absolutely love being in the same room.

“I love you.” Bucky kissed Olivia’s forehead “And I love you.” He then kissed Eloise’s “So so much.”

“We love you too, daddy.” They said

“Now get some sleep because auntie Wanda is coming early tomorrow to pick you up before I leave.” You leaned down to kiss each of them on their heads “I love you both so insanely much.”

“Love you too, mommy.”

“Now go to sleep or I’ll call the slender man.” Bucky said as he turned off the light

He quickly closed the door once you got out of the room and the girls let out a scream that made you both laugh.

“You’re evil.” You chuckled “Creating them traumas so young.”

“It gives them strength.”

You rolled your eyes laughing. “Of course.”

You both went downstairs and then Bucky went back to the car to bring back Olivia’s shoes and a few toys that the girls left in the car. While you put them on the dining table, Bucky was just telling you what they did and how the girls were on the weekend.

“Liv didn’t even asked for my help to wipe her after using the bathroom.”

“No?!” You looked at him kinda shocked

Potty training Eloise was way easier than training Olivia. First she was afraid of the toilet being flushed, then she was afraid that something would come out and bite her, then she didn’t want to stay alone while using the toilet. It’s been a rollercoaster for all of you.

“No, she did it all by herself.”

“Oh my god, really? I’m gonna cry.” You said with a hand on your chest

“She said she’s a big girl and big girls don’t need any help to go potty.”

“She is a big girl.” You said “Fuck, they’re both getting so big.”

“They are.” He nodded “How was Seattle?”

“Fucking amazing.” You said excited “It’s so pretty.”

“And how did it went? Are they planning on transferring you?”

“Hell no, I told Nick I’m not leaving New York.” You replied “If we were still living in the compound, then this would’ve been a whole different conversation, but we’re not and we have kids now so no, I’m not leaving even if they pay me more.”

“Well if they are paying you more then..” he raised his eyebrows

You laughed. “You know what I mean, idiot.” You rolled your eyes “But no, I’m not being transferred.”

“Then why did you go?”

“Nick said that they needed someone like me for some training.” You answered “It was great, I got to teach a few people about self defense, how exciting.”

“I’m glad.” He said with a small smile

He was genuinely happy for you. He knew how much you’ve missed working like that. Being an agent, a spy, you missed it. But at the same time, it wasn’t really in your plans anymore ever since you got pregnant with Eloise. It happened during the blip as well so you weren’t exactly working as an agent or spy anymore so you just decided to leave it behind for good. Until recently.

“You know, if it’s really what you want, then go for it.” He told you “The girls aren’t stopping you and neither am I.”

“I know, but it’s just that I feel like I’m on a different stage in life now.” You said “It felt fucking amazing, don’t get me wrong.”

“Then do it, talk with Nick and tell him to put you out there, that’s what you want.”

“I don’t know.” You let out a sigh

“We’re not going anywhere, you know that, right?” He said and you looked at him “And how cool would it be for the girls to say that their mommy is a spy?”

You laughed. “They will brag about it for sure.”

“And the best part is that you’re great at it and always have been.”

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” You shrugged looking at the time on the stove “It’s getting very late.” You looked at him

“Ouch okay, I’m leaving.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes

“Are we gonna keep this up?” He looked at you

“What?”

“This nonsense.” He motioned his hand between the two of you

“This nonsense?” You arched an eyebrow “Do I need to remind you whose fault is it that we’re on this position right now?”

“It could’ve gone so much better, but little miss I’m extremely petty over here, doesn’t like to listen to people and doesn’t care about anything other than her opinion.” He said

“Oh don’t make me mad, James.” You crossed your arms

“It’s the truth and you know it.”

“I think you can go now.” You said turning around and starting to walk away

“See what I mean?” You heard him say from behind “Can’t we just talk about it like normal people?” He asked following you

“I don’t think there’s anything to talk about.” You said turning around to look at him

“Well I think it is.”

“Bucky..”

“Y/N, come on.” He sighed “It’s been three months, are you gonna keep pushing me away?”

And he’s right, you’ve been kinda pushing him away. To be honest, the whole thing could’ve been avoided if Bucky and you came to an agreement, but you never did. You were upset that he was going away with Sam to do all these things that you weren’t okay with and you were thinking about the kids, which, at the moment, he wasn’t doing and that pissed you off. That was the whole thing. He didn’t want to empathize with the way you were viewing the whole situation and he was kinda making you look crazy. Saying things like “it’s not a big deal” or “everything will be alright, you don’t need to freak out”.

How does he expect you to not freak out when he doesn’t care about doing all this dangerous things? Was he insane?

In other circumstances, if you didn’t have kids for example, maybe you would’ve been a little bit more okay with it, maybe. But it’s a whole different scenario now.

And you were kinda pushing him away, sort of. But it wasn’t intentional, it’s just that you were kinda petty and there were times where he wanted to kinda fix things, but you wouldn’t let him because you would find a way to push him away unconsciously.

“You made me feel like I was exaggerating when I clearly wasn’t.” You said

“Because at the moment I did feel that way and I didn’t want to view the situation the way you were.” He explained “And I know I was wrong for that and I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh. “You still went.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve stayed here with you, I regretted it the moment I left with Sam.” He said “And I came back as soon as I could.”

“And you stayed with Steve.” You rolled your eyes

“Baby, you wanted to kill me, do you really think I was just gonna come and ask you to take me back after that shit? Like you were just gonna accept me.”

“… Well, you’re kinda right.”

“I know, Steve told me you were pissed and that you wanted to punch me.”

“I did tell him that.” You nodded

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“It’s fine, just forget it, I’m sick of the topic anyway.” You replied leaning on the back of the couch

“But are we fine?” He asked

“I don’t know, are we?”

“Well I’d say we are, kinda.” He got closer to you “You want me to do anything?”

“You could start by fixing the damn back door.”

“Again? But I just fixed it a few months ago.”

“Well I think you did it wrong because the doorknob is broken again.”

“I need to change that fucking door already.” He rolled his eyes “Anything else? Are you still mad at me?”

“A little.” You replied

“Just a little?” He moved his hands to your hips “I can help you change your mind.”

“Easy there, soldier.”

“Easy my ass, come here.”

Before you could even protest, his real hand grabbed your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss that screamed need. You really missed his kisses and just the way he would always give you a peck, whenever and wherever, whatever you were doing, he didn’t give a single care in the world. This man could see you sitting on the toilet and he still would go and give you a quick kiss.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered on your lips “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

“I did too.”

“Can we please never fight again?” He gently put his forehead against yours

“As long as you don’t piss me the fuck off doing some stupid shit like that again, we’re good.”

“Good.” He nodded before kissing you again

“And I swear to god..” you started saying between kisses “If I see you again that close to John Walker, I’m gonna kill you.”

“I know.” He said lowering his hands to the back of your thighs and picking you up

masterlist

a/n: should I post the fanfic here? What do we think? Lol (I’ve been thinking about it A LOT lately)

**UPDATE! I ended up uploading the fanfic and here is the masterlist for it lol

Anywaysss, hope you liked this! <3

(Likes and reblogs will be appreciated)

[frankenkyle19]

You Can If You Want

words count: 2.2k

warnings/description: Kit Walker x Virgin!reader, smut, handjobs, blowjobs, heavy petting, spit, soft!dom Kit, fingering, p in v, Kit Walker being too hot for his own good, I think that’s it. Not proofread, wrote in like an hour please forgive me

Kit reasoned that he had an average sex drive for a man his age. It was something he thoroughly enjoyed not just for his own pleasure, but for his partners as well. Kit was a very attentive lover, putting the needs of others before himself. In fact, their pleasure only intensified his own. 

He was gentle, but could be rough if asked. He was very versatile and while usually vanilla in bed, it was anything but boring. That’s when he met you. The innocent young lady who took an instant liking to him. You’d heard his reputation around town from the other women. How good he was in bed, but the idea of it scared you a bit. You were a virgin, having never had a ‘real’ relationship before. You took to Kit instantly. You two met in a diner and he’d asked you out on a date. And of course, since you weren’t stupid, you said yes.

He was patient with you, and never pushed you to do something you didn’t want to. He let you take the lead. Call the shots. Your first kiss with him was electric, and you immediately wanted more. But no. You wanted to go slow with this. Kit did too. He wanted you to really be ready and never feel pressured to do anything like that just for him. 

Your kisses soon turned to full make out sessions with you sliding into Kit’s lap, your lips connected as you wrapped your arms around his neck, desperately pulling him closer. You’d never felt like this before. For anyone. It all felt so surreal. How had you found the perfect man?

Your makeout sessions usually ended as such. Just kissing. Until your touches began to get a bit bolder, sliding your hands under his shirt, feeling his bare skin against yours. It made you shiver with anticipation. Mind racing with the dirtiest of thoughts.

And then there was tonight. It started as a few simple kisses until it turned into another makeout session. Something very common between the two of you. You were seated in his lap, chasing his lips with your own when your hand reached down and gently cupped his half hard bulge.

Kit tensed, meeting your eyes, his own dark ones blown wide.

“Suga- we- ya’ don’t have to do that doll-“ he started, but you pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him.

“I want to.” You admitted with a blush. You were so curious and wanted nothing more than to finally see him in all his glory. To touch him. Make him feel good. It made your romantic heart flutter. 

“Are you sure?” He placed his hands gently on your shoulders, watching you intently. “I can wait baby. I love you, I just want you to be comfortable.”

Bless his heart. Kit Walker, ever the gentleman. How did you go about telling him you wanted to? That you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted to touch him. See what made him squirm. 

You pressed your hand a bit harder on his bulge and his breath hitched, grinding his hips up against your hand ever so slightly. I mean if you wanted this, he was ever so willing. 

You were so curious, just waiting to see what was under those tight jeans of his. Of course you’d seen a dick or two before, but this was much different. Something so much more special. Sharing this moment with Kit.

You brought your other hand down to unbuckle and slide off his belt, slipping it through the loops until it fell loose. You then worked on the button and zipper of his jeans, getting those undone next. He sighed in relief at the release of tension, and your eyes were glued to his groin. 

Now free of the confines of his more than tight jeans, his cock was filling out even more, poking out of the waistband of his underwear. You swallowed hard, swiping your thumb over the barely visible tip that peeled out of the waistband. Like a little surprise. 

Kit shivered, a quiet groan slipping from his lips and you instantly froze, assuming you’d done something wrong.

Kit peeked down at you, eyebrow raised curiously 

“Something wrong suga?” 

“I just thought- was that a good noise?”

Kit nearly chuckled at your innocence, nodding. “Mhm, a very good noise baby. Ya makin’ me feel soooo good. You can keep going if ya want to.” He said, giving you permission to continue.

And you did. You carefully slipped his jeans down his thighs before doing the same with his underwear, watching as his cock nearly jumped out of you. 

You gasped quietly which brought a quiet amused laugh from Kit’s lips.

“It won’t bite, baby. You can touch if ya want to.”

If you want to.

How he ended all his sentences, constantly reminding you to only do this if you wanted to. 

You nodded and reached out, letting your palm slide against the side of his cock, watching as it reacted to your touch, twitching ever so slightly. You watched in awe, completely enthralled. 

Kit smiled fondly at you before he leaned his head back, swallowing hard, Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat was bared.

You looked back up at him and the way your innocent eyes shimmered with a devilish look nearly made Kit cum that very second.

“Can you show me how?” You asked, glancing back down at his cock that was now leaking pre-cum from the slit.

Kit nodded, eyes glazed over a bit from the pleasure that you were bringing. He took your hand and carefully wrapped it around his cock, applying decent pressure.

“Just- Mm- just like that suga. Ya just move your hand up and down, feels so good.” He assured, letting go of your hand and letting you try it for yourself.

Your hand barely wrapped around his girth and you seriously questioned how that would fit inside you. No matter, you weren’t there yet. You’d worry about it when it came time to.

You let out a pleased laugh. He was so warm, so hard but the skin was so soft. It was a feeling you could get used to. You did as he said, letting your hand slide up and down. Kit hummed contently before opening his mouth to guide you once more.

“Ya can spit on it too. Helps let your hand slide over it easier.” He suggested, helping you figure out what to do.

You let the saliva collect in your mouth for a second before you leaned down, letting a string of it slip from your mouth. The second it landed on the tip of Kit’s cock, a strangled moan came from his mouth, nearly scaring you.

He was getting progressively more worked up, his chest rising and falling a little heavier than before. 

You smeared your spit across his cock with the palm of your hand, causing Kit to buck into said hand with a quiet sigh of pleasure.

“Just like that suga. Feels amazin’” his accent got heavier just as his breathing had, letting himself go a bit more as things progressed. 

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillows of his bed, sighing happily.

You leaned down curiously, his cock right in front of your face and you carefully stuck your tongue out and let it run across the thick head of it.

Kit’s head shot right back up, watching you intensely as you ran your tongue along his length. The taste as a bit salty, a bit bitter, but it was Kit.

“You don’t gotta do that suga-“ he said, not wanting you to feel pressured to do anything you didn’t want.

You rolled your eyes a bit and continued your adventure across his length, humming as you wrapped your lips around him finally. The stretch of your lips and the full feeling in your mouth was new. Interesting. But you enjoyed it. Especially seeing how it affected the man above you.

“Ya can’t look that innocent takin’ me like that baby- mmm f-fuck-“

Kit didn’t cuss much, so you knew he was beginning to lose control. And you found yourself wanting him to.

He let you do as you wanted for a while before he pulled you off of him, much to your dismay.

“Was it not good?” You asked, immediately assuming you’d done something wrong.

Kit shook his head, a blush appearing on his already flushed cheeks.

“No baby- no I just- I was close… didn’t want to cum in your mouth.” He said, avoiding your gaze. Oh, so he was the shy one now? You’d explore that more in the future.

“Kit please. I want this. Want you to take my virginity.” You hadn’t ever been very serious about any of that, wasn’t planning on waiting till marriage. Just… waiting for the right person, and you knew in your heart that person was Kit. The one you trusted enough to share this experience with. Who you knew wouldn’t judge you for any of it.

Kit pulled you into a kiss before his hands found their way to your little skirt, slipping easily under it. His thumb found your clothed slit and grinned at feeling how wet you’d become for him. He wanted to make this as painless as possible for you, so he wanted to try and open you up on his fingers first before he even attempted with his cock.

He laid you down against the bed, looking down at you with the biggest shit eating grin on his lips.

“Just relax for me suga, yeah? Gonna make ya feel real good. Such a good girl, all for me.” He hummed, his words sending a heavy shiver down your spine, through all your nerve endings.

You nodded, arching into his touch as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down your legs.

His fingers instantly found their way to your core and you gasped as he slipped a finger into you, easily. It felt odd, but you had experimented with your own pleasure before, so it wasn’t completely foreign.  

It went like that for a while, Kit easing you into it, the whole time leaving gentle kisses all over your body, making you blush. 

Eventually he had three fingers inside you, and it was a bit uncomfortable but not overbearingly so. You just felt full and you couldn’t even begin to fathom how full his cock would make you feel.

“I’m ready, Kit. Please. I want it. Want you.” You begged, writhing underneath him with a frustrated huff.

He carefully peeled off the rest of his clothes as well as yours, situating himself between your legs and lining himself up with your entrance.

“Look at me, look at me suga. If it hurts too much, if you’re uncomfortable or if you just aren’t feeling it you tell me and we stop. Okay?” He pressed the softest of kisses to your forehead, one of his hands reaching for your own and holding it gently, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

You could probably cry at this moment. How sweet he was. How much he cared about you. It was so overwhelming in the best ways.

You nodded at his words, pulling him down into another kiss as he slowly slowly began to push himself into you. It hadn’t hurt at first, but at a certain point he hit resistance and it hurt like hell. You winced, squeezing his hand tightly in your own, clenching your eyes shut. Kit whispered sweet nothings in your ear and placed gentle kisses across your neck and shoulders. 

You zoned out a bit, trying to think of anything but the pain when Kit gently tapped your shoulder.

“Hardest parts over suga. I’m all the way in.” He said softly, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips.

A relieved sigh left your lips, the intense burning feeling fading into a dull pain. Kit leaned against you, not daring to move until you assured him you were ready, and when he got the go ahead, he pulled out slowly almost all the way until thrusting back in, still being careful to be gentle.

You never knew what you had expected to come with sex, but you never thought it could be so tender. It didn’t have to be fast and rough to be good. Sure you could see yourself enjoying that in the future but right now in this moment, you felt wonderful. 

He began to tremble above you and even though you’d never experienced it before, you knew he was close to his release. He reached down and gently rubbed circles across your clit, the pleasure spiking. Suddenly you felt very hot and tight. Your bottom lip trembled as you looked up at him, silently telling him you were close.

He smiled softly, knowingly as he continued what he was doing, and soon you were falling over the edge, throwing your head back, your breath quickening and your chest heaving. It felt so intense. So good. So much better than all the times you’d pleasured yourself.

Kit went to pull out of you, to release across your chest, but you wrapped your legs around his waist and kept him in place.

“Inside. Please baby.”

Those words alone sent him straight over the edge and he gasped, leaning over you with a groan as you felt him fill you up.

You held him to your chest as you both caught your breath and you wondered how you had gotten so lucky. 

[probablyintensemuses]

A-Z NSFW Alphabet

Armando Aretas

🎧- Girls Need Love: Summer Walker

summary: head cannon on what sex—a-z—is like with Armando

A: After care (what they’re like after sex)

I’m fully convinced that after you have sex, Armando cleans you off while telling you how well you took him. Then he sets a bath or shower, your preference, for you both. He likes to clean you off and sing you some more praises before you ultimately fall asleep in each others arms.

B: Body part (what’s their favorite body part)

I see Armando as an ass and back guy. There’s no doubt he’s in killer shape, so I think seeing a toned back and a fat, perky ass bouncing while he drills into you from behind, would definitely turn him on, only fueling the way he destroys your cunt.

C: Cum (where do they like to cum)

Armando cums literally anywhere you let him. On your face, in your pussy, on your back, on your stomach. Anywhere you tell him, he will

D: Dirty (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Armando once caught you using a vibrator and never told you. It was just something about the way you moaned and squirmed, touching yourself while you called out his name, that fueled his ego and lust for you.

E : Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Armando’s a drug dealer, there are desperate girls lying up just waiting for the chance at a good fuck with him. I think it goes without saying that he’s pretty experienced and has methods on making you cum each and every-time you fuck.

F: Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I think Armando likes some good ole’ missionary, except he likes to fold you like a pretzel, test the bounds of your flexibility, as he pounds and drills deep into you. He loves to not only hear your cries and moans but see them too, and in missionary, he really gets the best of both worlds.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

To Armando, there is nothing funny about getting the chance to fuck you and see you wither from his touch. I doubt he laughs in general, so sex would definitely be a no laughing matter.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they)

For the most part I think Armando is clean shaven. I didn’t see a spec of hair on his chest in the prison scene so I think when you pull down his pants, it’ll either be clean shaven or a slight buzz down there.

I: Intimacy (how intimate are they)

It depends, are you the love of his life, or a quick fuck? Love of his life? He’ll go above and beyond for you. A quick fuck? The most you’ll get out of his is an orgasm and one night in a five star hotel.

J : Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Armando has a high sex drive—I mean look at his father—so he’s definitely going to jack off, especially with the time he spends alone and in prison. He’d jerk off thinking of you, squeezing snd pumping his swollen cock in his fist until he cums.

K: Kink (what are their kinks)

Now as violent as Armando can get, I don’t think his kink would be anything that can hurt you. I think if anything, the lack of a stable family and community around him would make him desperate for a family of his own with the right woman. I think he’d have a breeding kink, always moaning and babbling about how he wants to cum deep inside of you, impregnating you to start a family. His favorite phrase to moan near his orgasm: “Hazme papá, mi amor.”

L: location (where do they like to fuck)

Armando will fuck you anywhere his cock starts to ache, needing to be inside you. It doesn’t matter where you too are, if he wants you, he’ll have you.

M : Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Armando has expensive taste. So he gets the most turned on when you’re sensually dressed in the lingerie he bought you, all dolled up for him. I think seeing you like that, doing mundane things like cooking and cleaning, will have him ready to explode.

No: No (what are some things they’re not doing to you)

I don’t think Armando’s doing anything that can hurt you. He doesn’t want you to fear him if he goes to far, then he’ll loose you and he can’t risk that.

O: Oral (do they give and receive oral)

Armando loves the taste or your pussy, and he loves how he can make you cum just by eating you out, he loves the power of gives him. He doesn’t always ask for it, but he loves when you go down on him and suck his cock with such ease. It’s glorious watching you choke and slob on his large member.

P: Pace (how fast or slow is sex)

This depends on Armando’s mood. If you’re fucking or having a quickie, he’s all about fast and tough, making you cum as quick and hard as he can. But if you’re making love, he will give you slow, powerful, and calculate strokes, making sure to hit your sweet spot every-time time he pushes into you while singing you praises and telling you your worth.

Q : Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Armando is always game for a quickie, but I don’t think he has them often. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to fuck you passion and purpose and quickie doesn’t give him the time to do what he truly wants to do to you.

R: Risk (how risky are they)

Armando’s a drug-dealing assassin, risk might as well be his middle name. He’s fucking you in the office, in the van, in the compound, outside in the woods, in an airplane bathroom, upstairs at a friends place. He’s an adrenaline junkie and some part of him gets off on the fact that you like the risk too.

S: Stamina (how long do they last)

Do you see his body? That man can last for hours if he has too. Round after round he won’t tap out until you do, and if that means being balls deep for hours, he’ll do that.

T: Toys (do they like toys? Do they use them?)

Armando won’t use toys on himself. And he doesn’t really like them, he’d rather his partner cum because of him and what can do. He’ll study every part of you and listen to your sexual language so that he can perform just what you need to make you cum harder than any toy could make you.

U: Unfair (how unfair are they when you fuck)

Armando loves to tease you, edging you and seeing how far he can push you for your release. He loves to stop fucking you just when you’re at the edge so that you’re begging for him just to stick the head of his cock back in and finish his job. Hell do this a few times because some insecure part of himself needs to know just how badly you need him.

V: Volume (how loud they are during sex)

Armando is definitely vocal. He grunts and moans as he takes your pussy with his cock. He praises you in Spanish and English for how well you take his cock. He wants to be heard by you and others, claiming you as his with his sounds.

W: Wild card ( a random head canon)

As dominant as he can be, I really do think he’s a munch. I think he could sit for hours just eating your pussy or doing as you ask him and following your orders. Whatever you tell him to do in the bedroom, that won’t hurt you, of course, he does it. And he does it with fucking pride. He’s your best eater and there’s no doubt about it.

X: X-ray (what’s going down underneath)

Marcus said it: “those Lowery genes are a bitch.” I’m thinking Armando is strapped. He’s about 7 1/2 inches and thick, a perfect size to stretch you out and give you a good, full fucking that’ll have you craving for more.

Y: Yearing (how high is their sex drive)

High. That’s all I’m going to say. High.

Z: Zzz (how fast to the fall asleep after sex)

I don’t think he sleeps right after. Armando definitely pulls you into his arms and watches you sleep against his chest. And once you’re sleep for a while with no waking, I think that’s when he’ll slowly start to doze off himself.

[holylulusworld]

How to cure a grump (4)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, snowed-in trope, John Walker bashing

How to cure a grump (3)

How to cure a grump masterlist

“That audacity,” Bucky angrily mutters. “How dare he talk to you! He should be ashamed of himself and his actions!”

You blink a few times. What happened not minutes ago was mind-boggling. Your former boss, the grumpiest person you ever met, kissed you to save you from embarrassment.

“Why?” You whisper so no one but Bucky can hear you question his intentions. His help surely comes with a price. “What do you want?”

“What?” He furrows his brows, still lost in thoughts, as he watches John and his fiancé walk past your mother.

Your former boyfriend greets your mom, earning an angry look and no response. If it was up to her, he’d lie on the ground bleeding, and his teeth missing.

“We should get the things your mother wanted you to get. Give me the list,” Bucky says. He snatches the list out of your hands as you stand there, frozen to the spot. “You can pay the stuff here, and I’ll get the rest.”

Bucky walks out of the store, nodding at your mother as he hurriedly makes his way toward the next store.

Almost done with your mother’s list, Bucky walks toward the last store. He carries around the paper bags filled with more things your mother needed for dinner.

“It’s you again,” John smirks as Bucky wants to pass him by. It was already a long day. He’s cold and tired. Not to forget, he kissed his former employee and liked it. “I didn’t think she’d find a new guy anytime soon. Not after she lost me.”

John Walker hates losing. Watching Bucky kiss you in public, in front of people knowing him, and you made John furious. He doesn’t care that he ended your relationship and cheated on you. John Walker is the kind of guy wanting to eat his cake and keep it.

“What do you mean, with a guy like you?” Bucky dips his head. “The kind of guy promised a woman marriage and a future only to cheat on her with a cheap imitation?”

John’s face contorts in anger. “A good catch like me. Business owner, house owner, a stallion in the bed.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Usually, when guys tell you they are good in bed, they are quick shots and can’t satisfy a woman.”

“Say,” John leans closer to look Bucky up and down, “does she still only want to fuck with the lights out? She’s a frigid little thing, isn’t she.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. It takes anything in him to not throw the paper bags at John.  He won’t throw punches but fight dirty. “Not with me,” Bucky says, smirking. “I can understand she only wanted to have sex with you in the dark. With a face like yours in front of her, she must’ve been unwell all the damn time…”

John gapes at your former boss, who holds his gaze, still smirking. Without another word, Bucky walks past John, hearing people laugh about John who throws a tantrum like a toddler, calling Bucky names.

“He did what?” The moment you came back home, the phone wouldn’t start ringing. Your aunt was first to call to tell you what Bucky said to John. It didn’t change your mind about your former boss but made you chuckle.

Next was your neighbor across the street. They watched with amusement when John was taken down a peg by your former boss.

Six calls later, you are snorting because it’s John’s fiancée, asking you to tell Bucky to apologize to John. “Yeah, not going to happen, darling. If you’d excuse me now, we are in the middle of our Christmas preparations.”

You ended the call before she could say another word.

“Who was it this time?” Your mother chuckles as you try not to laugh. Of course, she enjoyed every call. Bucky fought fire with fire, and she likes him even better because of it. “Come on, Munchkin. Tell me who it was.”

“John’s fiancée,” you snort. “She wanted James to apologize to John for calling him a quick shot and that he’s got an ugly face.”

She shrugs and says, “What is true, has to remain true. James was right, and people love him for it. Mrs. Applebaum from the end of the street even clapped her hands. You must love James.”

“Mom,” you sigh, deep and exasperated. How can you reveal now that your mother likes your former boss so much, that you hate him? “Please don’t tell him that you love him.”

“Who loves who?” Bucky casually walks inside the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. He enjoyed that you got flustered around him on the trip back to your mother’s house. “I parked the car.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” your mother coos and winks at Bucky. “I know it’s a bummer they didn’t have a free room for you, but you can stay here for Christmas. We have more than enough space and food. Right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you say, even though, you feel like this is a conspiracy between your mother and your former boss. “Uh—I’ll check on the heating and if we got enough wood for the fireplace.

“Munchkin,” your mother says, “why don’t you show James around the house? He hasn’t seen much of it.”

You give up and simply nod. Whatever you say would only hurt your mother’s feelings. If you must, you’ll play pretend over Christmas. You can always tell her that you and Bucky split up. The last thing you want is to ruin Christmas for your mom.

“Alright, show me around Y/N,” Bucky smirks at you. He’s enjoying this too much for your liking. “I can hardly wait to see every nook at your home.”

You grit your teeth but say nothing. Every word would only make your mother suspicious or cause a fight between you and your former boss.

So, you bite your tongue and politely ask him to follow you, murder in your eyes.

“Your mom is very nice,” he says while walking next to you. “What do you want to show me first?”

You walk upstairs, guiding Bucky away from your mother. You’re seething and can’t hold back any longer.

Grabbing him by his jacket, you push Bucky against the wall next to your room. “What kind of game are you playing?” You accuse. “I know you’re having a blast lying to my mom, but if you dare to make fun of her home, I’ll castrate you.”

“Whoa,” he yelps when you slam your fist into the wall beside his head. “When I said your mom is nice, I meant it. She invited me in and let me stay at her home for free. I’d never make fun of her or her home.”

“Good.” You step away from Bucky, exhaling deeply to calm down. “Listen, this is an odd situation. If you want to stay here for Christmas, it’s fine by me. I owe you for John and…you know.”

Bucky doesn’t mention the kiss, and you're thankful for it. “How about you show me the rest of the house, and we discuss how we keep on pretending to be in love…”

How to cure a grump (5)

Tags in reblog.

[caninepoetryrelator]

Liquid Luck

Carl Grimes x Reader (16+)

Aged up Carl Grimes x Reader soft smut

Synopsis: Carl and you are not friends. So what’s gonna happen when you’re locked in a room together with a bottle of whiskey?

Warnings: Dick, dick getting sucked, no fully blown sex just oral, Carl is a cutie, also it’s a zombie apocalypse there’s gonna be zombies, plus various weapons and very brief nondescript violence.

Words: 3,843

It all started with a bad raid. We figured we could sneak into the pharmacy, get the medicine for Hershel, and then get out without attracting any attention.

Rick and Daryl stayed outside and kept watch while he sent you and Carl to take care of the rest.

That was it, straightforward, in and out.

Or at least it had been.

A week prior Glenn had put a boombox on the rooftop of the place to attract the walkers out and up instead of prowling the streets and the building.

The windows were almost all broken. Either by walkers or raiders, we didn’t know. But it sure was convenient when the door turned out to be locked.

You watched Carl adjust the brim of his hat and narrow his eyes at a broken square window a few feet above his head.

“I think I can fit,” he stated firmly, casting you a sidelong glance, quickly looking back at Rick when you made eye contact.

He had never been outright rude to you; he had never been anything to you. He had only introduced himself with a short greeting and a tight smile. He seemed much more open with everyone else yet standoffish around you.

“The kid can fit too,” agreed Daryl, nodding towards you. He’d always called you that despite you being the same age as Carl.

Carl’s face dropped as he glanced at you again. “I can do it by myself.”

“No, you can’t,” ordered Rick. “We don’t know how many walkers are still in there. You’re taking her with you.”

He sighed. Did he really not like you this much?

Before you had come to a conclusion Daryl had laid a leather jacket over the jagged glass in the frame before he and Rick boosted Carl into the window.

“I’ll make sure it’s safe!” He hollered from inside the building. There was some scuffling inside for a moment before he yelled “It’s clear!”

Next thing you knew you were standing in their respective interlaced fingers and they boosted you up to the window. You grabbed the edges and dove in. It wasn’t until you let go of the window frame that you realized that you, unlike Carl, were falling face first instead of feet first.

Luckily, you were met with the last type of relief you expected. Carl grabbed your waist, slowing your descent enough to use your own momentum to turn you so you landed on your feet. His hands linger on your waist as you stand chest to chest with him. You look up at him through your lashes, breathing heavily. His face is red, probably from exertion.

Just before you can thank him he pulls quickly away, looking down nervously. You lower your head into his line of sight so that he makes eye contact with you.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile.

He nods shortly before taking out his knife and heading towards a door. “This way.”

You follow him, Michonee’s old sword she had given you in hand as you follow him closely, checking your surroundings avidly. Both of you continuously glanced up at the ceiling, which creaked under the weight of anywhere from fifty to one hundred walkers.

Your shoe nudged something on the ground— a bottle of whiskey. You quickly stooped and picked it up, putting it in one of the pockets of your oversized cargos.

You make your way to the back of the building, into the section where the pills are stored.

“What are we looking for again?” You ask.

“Promethazine, it’s anti-nausea medication for throwing up. Hershel’s worried the vomit from people with the flu in town could make it more contagious.” He replies, examining bottles instead of looking at you.

With a soft frown at his bland attitude, you wander to the ‘P’ section, browsing for promethazine.

You found five prefilled prescriptions made out to various, probably now dead, people.

“Carl,” you call, holding up a handful of amber pill bottles.

“Nice one,” he says, a genuine smile on his face. The first time he’s smiled at you. It was a nice smile. You felt your face heat up as you smiled as well.

Carl turned around for you to put the meds in his backpack. You brush his hair out of the way and he whips his head around immediately.

“W-what’re you doing back there?”

“Making sure your hair doesn’t get caught in the zipper,” you reply simply.

He relaxes as you unzip the bag and place the medications inside.

Just as you were zipping the beg, a loud creaking sound resounded from the ceiling. Carl and you glanced at each other with wide eyes.

“This way,” he commanded, taking your hand and leading — practically dragging — you through the pharmacy. The thumping on the roof was becoming more prominent and you could hear gunshots from outside.

You were practically running now as the sounds became nearly overwhelming. You were near the doctor's office section of the building when the ceiling began to give.

“Shit,” you muttered as the ceiling tiles began to fall.

Carl’s hand was on your waist again, this time snatching you out of the way of something falling— a walker, collapsed on the ground where you had just been standing.

Everything was happening so fast, and next thing you knew the ground was littered with walkers, all focused on the two of you. Your sword could only do so much as you slashed at the hoard, managing to take out two in one blow as you attempted to keep them at bay.

When Carl’s hands were on your waist again this time you didn’t question it— he snatched you backwards and into a room, where he slammed the door closed and locked it.

It was a check up office; it contained white brick walls and linoleum tile. In the corner was an oak desk with a monitor and sanitary supplies stacked on it. There was a cot against the opposite wall and various equipment hanging from the walls.

The thudding at the door where Carl stood jarred you back to reality, spurring you to grab the desk and shove at it. It had to be at least four hundred pounds. Carl pulled from the other side and together you managed to use it to barricade the door. He collapsed against the cot, panting.

You joined him, holding up your hands in a calming gesture as he looked at you with a shaky, nervous expression.

“Well, shit,” he muttered with an ironic chuckle.

“Probably gonna be in here for a while,” you sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered bitterly.

Why don’t you like me?

The words almost came out of your mouth, but it wasn’t the right time. Instead you just looked at him, with a resigned expression.

You take the whiskey from your pocket and open it, taking a swig. After drinking with Daryl it didn’t phase you too much anymore, but he stared at you with a shocked expression, cheeks dusted pink.

“Where did you get that?”

“Store,” you replied simply, holding out the bottle to him.

After a moment of hesitation he took it, taking a swig with a grimace. “How do you drink that shit?” He laughs.

He laughed. A real laugh. It’s your first time hearing it. You want to hear more of it.

“Daryl,” you explain simply and he nods with a groan.

“I see,” he takes another drink and passes the bottle back to you.

It’s called liquid courage for a reason, you think. That’s all the convincing it takes for you to start chugging the bottle. You get about five swallows down before Carl’s hands, one on the bottle and one on your jaw, stop you from going further.

“Don’t overdo it,” he chides you gently.

You nod dumbly, watching a drop make its way down his neck, tracing his adam’s apple as he takes another drink. You notice the way his lips pucker around the mouth of the bottle and you force yourself to look away.

After a moment of silence he speaks again.

“Wanna play truth or dare?”

You look at him in surprise, hesitating for a moment.

“Only if you want to—” he starts nervously before you cut him off with a simple statement.

“Sure.”

He looks at you in relief, clearly afraid to have overstepped before smiling, a bit anxiously. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” you don’t hesitate; they really do call it liquid courage for a reason.

He glanced around the room before his eyes land on the stethoscope. “I dare you to give me a checkup?” He phrases it as a question so you don’t feel forced. Cute.

You grab various medical equipment, wrapping the stethoscope around your neck with a drunken grin. “I’m your doctor, I’ll be giving you your physical,” you say in your best attempt at a deep voice. You were clearly already drunk. Normally you would’ve felt stupid but with the heartwarming giggle he let out paired with an over dramatic eyeroll, you felt nothing but at ease.

As you begin measuring his heart rate he swallows hard, his pink cheeks darkening to red. His heart thumped steadily; quickly.

“Truth or dare,” you murmur as you measure his vitals.

“Uh…” he swallowed hard, eyes flickered from your hands against his chest to your face, feigning focus. “Dare.”

“Take your shirt off,” you say with an innocent grin. He blanches, surprised. “To check your vitals better. Only if you want to.” You assure him sweetly.

In a moment he was struggling to pull his shirt off, disoriented from the alcohol.

Next thing you know your hands are running down his sides to the hem of his shirt. Halfway through struggling out of his shirt he looks up at you from his sitting position, face still read and panting. You gently tug his shirt upwards, prompting him to pull his arms through the holes and you pull it over his head.

You giggle at the state of his hair, correcting it without hesitation.

“Real soft,” you muse as you gently sweep his hair out of his face. The poor boy looks overwhelmed as he stares up at you, arms wrapped around himself nervously.

You gently move the arm he has wrapped around his chest, pressing the stethoscope there once more. His heart is beating almost worryingly fast.

“You okay hon?” You ask gently.

“Mhm,” he manages, seeming to have a hard time speaking.

“Okay,” you murmur, putting the stethoscope on various places around his chest, pretending to know what you’re doing.

“Truth- uh truth or dare,” he chokes out.

“Dare,” you repeat, this time even more sure than the last.

“Can you uhm.. touch my hair again?” He wasn’t making eye contact at all now, seemingly fascinated by his jeans as he stares down, still adorned by that bright blush.

In a second your hands are in his hair. Even when you hadn’t been talking you were fascinated by his hair. Rick had caught you staring several times and always met you with a soft smile or a laugh, whereas Daryl arched his eyebrow with a slight grin.

His hair really was soft, soft as hell. You rubbed a single strand between your fingers before trailing your fingers from his roots to the ends of his hair. You secure your hands around his scalp, threading your fingers through his hair as you continue to play with it, enamored.

You hadn’t even noticed his face, eyes closed, mouth open, breathing deeply.

You lean in closer and murmur by his ear. “Truth or dare.”

His eyes flicker open and he breathes for a moment. “Truth.”

“Why do you avoid me back at camp?” He froze.

“I-I don’t,” he lied, resulting in a small tug to his hair. He draws in a sharp breath, looking up at you surprised.

“Don’t lie,” you chide.

“You make me nervous,” he admitted after a moment of silence. “People usually don’t make me nervous, but you do.” He was once again apparently entranced by his jeans so you cup his jaw gently, bringing his gaze up to meet your own.

“I like making you nervous. But not all the time. I like talking to you, Carl,” you explain in a soft voice.

He looks up at you with a genuine involuntary smile.

“Really?” He breathes.

“Yes,” you whisper, realizing how much closer you had gotten, your hand still settled on his jaw.

“Um… truth or dare?”

“Dare,” you repeat, adamant on forcing him out of his comfort zone.

“Is it okay if I— can I please, uhm—“

“Do whatever you want, Carl,” you interrupt him. “I trust you.”

His eyes widen at that and he finally rises to his feet. A familiar feeling. His hands on your waist. His grasp is awkward this time, less sure of himself when he’s not saving your life. When it’s a choice to be touching you.

He tugs you a bit closer and his eyes flicker to your lips. You know what he’s trying to do and you know he’s scared to do it.

Your hands are still in his hair and you use that to your advantage, pulling him towards you and letting him close the distance, giving you a hesitant kiss. His lips are a little chapped, but they’re plush and soft. He tastes like whiskey, and you’re sure you do too. He’s inexperienced; this might be his first kiss, you realize.

You follow that kiss with another chaste one pressed against his lips ever so gently.

“Feel good?” You murmur, forehead resting against his with your eyes closed.

“Mhm,” he hums, barely audible as he lets out another shakey breath. You know his eyes are closed too.

You’re both reveling. In each other's presence. Just breathing each other in as his arms move to loosely wrap around your waist instead of simply placing his hands there.

There it is. That’s right.

His hands on your waist were sweet but his arms encircling your waist was just right.

You pull him in for another slow kiss, heads tilted, mouth moving and prompting his to do the same, teaching him as best you could without saying a word.

“Wow,” he gasps against your lips. You try to give him a chance to explain his exclamation by pulling away, but he pulls you back in.

You slide your tongue over his bottom lip, hoping for him to part his lips a bit more and in response he gives your tongue a light suck, pulling it into his mouth and letting out a soft whine as he does.

Your kiss evolves in passion as his hand starts traveling over your body. It slides up your waist and onto your ribs, just shy of your boob. The other stays securely wrapped around your waist as though he’s attempting to anchor you to him.

As much as you adore the feeling of his lips, you pull away. His brow furrows, eyes still shut as he leans forward for another kiss, his lips chasing yours with a small sound of displeasure after you pull away.

You tug his hair, gently prompting him to tilt his head to the side to give you access to his neck. You start by pressing soft kisses there, a trail from his jaw to the base of his neck, before retracing your steps with parted lips, allowing yourself to taste the sweet musky skin of his neck.

He lets out a choked whimper before covering his mouth with his hand. Not on your watch. You immediately grab his hand, pulling it down to your tit. He lets out a shakey gasp as he grasps at the soft flesh, groaning softly as he squeezes experimentally.

“Thank you..” he murmurs, eyes still screwed shut.

“Of course sweetheart,” you smile against his neck. He shivers at the nickname, giving you a minor power trip.

You begin sucking the flesh of his neck into your mouth where you begin biting gradually before biting harder to leave dark marks. You leave one by his jaw before remembering Rick, and what his reaction would be. You press a quick kiss to the mark before shoving him down on the cushioned exam cot, straddling him.

That’s when you notice the tent in his pants. He glances down at the point where your crotches met, biting his lip nervously. “S-sorry—” he started.

“Don’t be,” you assure him, leaning down to begin littering his chest with kisses.

You start the marks by his collarbone, before moving down to his chest. He was whimpering without restraint now, back arched.

His hand was moving up your body, down your arm, and to your hand. He held your hand, giving it a soft squeeze before simply holding your hand.

“Can I.. can I have—” he cut himself off with a small whimper before you stopped your ministrations.

“Use your words sweetheart.”

He groans slightly at that. “Can I— I wanna kiss.” He squeezes your hand again.

You lean up and meet him halfway with a soft kiss. He’s better now. He’s more prepared. You run your tongue along his bottom lip and he gladly parts them, granting you entry. He opens his mouth a bit too wide, but you don’t mind. You pull back slightly, pulling away and following it with a chaste, soft kiss before continuing where you left off– his chest.

You continue sucking dark hickies along his chest, leaving a trail of bites and kisses down to his belly. A faint covering of dark hairs spreads from just about his belly button, trailing down to below the band of his jeans.

You let out a soft sigh of desire, lightly caressing his happy trail with the tip of your fingers. He shudders softly and you watch his cock twitch through his jeans. He begins to apologize again, cutting himself off with a soft groan when you plant a firm kiss to where his happy trail disappears under his jeans.

You tug softly at the button on his jeans. “Can I?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

He blinks in shock, looking down at you with wide eyes and a flushed face, mouth agape. “A-are you sure?”

“Yes,” you chuckle.

He responds with a small nod, still clearly shocked. You make quick work of undoing his pants, tugging them down before looking up at him with a small nod, prompting him to climb to his feet and shed his pants, quickly clambering back onto the bench. You swing your leg over the base of his thighs, straddling them.

You’re quick to feel him up, groping at his straining cock.

Freeing his cock you glance up at him in surprise, He’s packing. Six, maybe seven inches, not too wide – you could probably fit your hand perfectly around it – with a pretty pink tip, practically dripping precum. You test your earlier theory by experimentally wrapping your hand around his cock, eliciting a whine from him.

He swallows hard before looking down at you. “Are you s-sure? You’re comfortable?”

You nod. “I want to do this for you sweet boy.”

He smiles softly, letting his head fall back and his eyes flutter shut. “Thank you,” he sighs happily.

You lean down and kiss the head of his cock, causing him to jolt slightly. After lapping at the slit of his cock you take the head into your mouth. He gasps, bucking his hips.

Without warning you grab him by the hips and force him back against the cot which draws another whimper out of him as he pathetically attempts to squirm his hips closer to your mouth. You tut your tongue and pull away until he stops moving.

“Please,” he whines, struggling.

You decide to grant mercy on the poor boy, taking his head into your mouth once again. One arm forcing his hips against the table, you wrap the other hand around his cock and gently squeeze. He sighs happily, breath hitching as you begin moving your hand. Rotating it gradually as you move your hand up and down, you allow some of your saliva to drip from the head of his cock into your hand.

You use it as lubricant to begin pumping your hand up and down his cock faster, limp wristed as you continue lapping at the head of his cock. He arches his back more and whines.

Just as you begin taking more of his cock into your mouth his hand flies to the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair before squeezing, clearly doing his best to hold back from pulling your hair too hard.

“Mmh..” he moans softly, gripping at your hair firmly and applying slight pressure.

Suddenly you take as much as possible into your mouth, deepthroating him without warning. He lets out a sharp moan, gripping your hair tighter before releasing his grip in a slight panic as he realizes what he’s doing– it’s cute how hard he’s trying to hold back.

You use your tongue mostly, swirling it around his cock to the best of your ability as you begin bobbing your head up and down. You use one hand to massage his hard balls, ready to burst already. With that you remember that he’s a virgin, and you probably shouldn’t be teasing him so much.

This whole time he’s been making the most lewd noises, moaning and letting out small whimpers to the rhythm of you bobbing your head. His cock twitches in your mouth, prompting you to go faster to help him through.

You release his hips and meet his eyes when he gives you a confused glance, silently giving him permission. Experimentally, he bucks his hips, moaning before falling into a steady rhythm, his hips rising and falling shakily against your mouth.

He grips your hair even tighter, bringing tears to your eyes as you gag on his cock. After less than ten seconds he releases his load down your throat. Despite your attempts to swallow it dribbles out of your mouth and down his cock.

The low groan he had released had tapered off into a moan, sighing as he finally collapsed from his high. As he lays there, chest heaving, you slowly climb on top of him, collapsing there and cuddling into him.

He turns and kisses the top of your head, his wide smile unknown to you.

“I think I’m less nervous around you now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You smile softly as he places his hand on your waist once again. “Good,”

Thank god for liquid courage.

They cleared the pharmacy of walkers eventually, and by the time they reached you the two of you were cleaned up.

You came out swinging, having to run to the truck.

The two of you ended up so battered and bruised Rick didn’t even think to mention the bruise at the base of Carl’s jaw, and the one on his collarbone, just visible when he wore tank tops.

You saved the whiskey for next time.

[nevvdrinksteaa]

history // charlie walker

~~

pairing: charlie walker x reader

original prompt: you’re paired with charlie walker for a school project, it gets dirty

warnings: 18+ nsfw smut, porn WITH plot, afab!reader, slight angst (charlie thinks you hate him for like 5 whole minutes) pet names, oral (male and female), dom!reader, sub!charlie, begging, making out, fingering, whatever the fuck it’s called when you grind against sheets to make yourself c*m, overuse of the nickname ‘char’, never written for dom!reader before (bare w me), no specific reference to body type !! please let me know if i forgot anything!

word count: 3.1k

this is NOT proof read so if there are any mistakes ignore them! i believe that anyone of any shape or size and anyone of color can enjoy this. i don’t believe there is any description of physical appearance (please please correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t want to make assumptions about anything!!)

please send in more stuff for me to write because i’m in the mood to zoom 🫡

~~~

1:40 PM

you sat in history, your last period class, shaking your pencil hearing it tap, tap, tap with every move. eyes trained on the clock wishing the last twenty minutes would fly by quicker, eager to get your weekend started.

“for this project, you are all going to be in partners”

everyone shot up from their bored positions at their desks, starting conversations with friends deciding who’s working with who. you look over at your best friend, grinning.

“settle down, your partners were pre-chosen. i think we need some variety in the groups we see”

the class started to groan as the teacher stated that the partner lists were posted on the board, stating specifics on the projects and that it will be due on monday. everyone started to get up from their seats to check the list on the corkboard at the front of the room. you started to write down ideas, assuming your partner would find you.

of course it’s due monday, there goes my weekend. what’s the point of your parents going out of town if-

“uhm hey, i think we’re partners”

you look up, noticing charlie walker standing at the front of your desk, looking at the floor in front of him.

“you think or you checked the list and know?” you smirk at him, giggling to yourself.

“you got me there, i saw it on the list” he states, settling in the chair beside you.

he started rambling, talking about ideas he has for the project.

“okay charlie, here's the deal” you state bluntly, “my parents aren’t home for the weekend and i really want to get this project finished as soon as possible so i can have friends over on saturday”

he was taken back at your tone, shocked at the rude nature. he figured you didn’t like him, and wanted to get it over as soon as possible so you didn’t have to be seen with him. why else were you so angry when you had always been so sweet to everyone? weren’t you two friends?

“well we can do it after school and work on it today, i’m good at history so we should finish it really soon” he says quietly, trailing off towards the end.

“perfect” you say, grabbing your phone and handing it to the boy. “give me your number and i can text you my address”

the final bell rings and the class starts to gather their things. you sit up from your spot at the desk, collecting your books to leave. “i’ll shower when i get home and you can come over after, does three work?”

“sounds good.” he doesn’t look up from the desk as he’s still writing down notes.

“see you later, char” you say, giving him a smile he doesn’t notice.

walking back to your locker, you catch yourself thinking about him and how awkward he is, finding it indearing. you were excited to work on your project with him, you had a crush on him for a while and you hadn’t had any courage to say anything to him.

you grab your things and start the trek to your car, stopping your friend to tell her about your plans for today on your way out.

“the universe is giving you signs partnering you up with charlie, maybe it’s time to tell him about your crush.” she says, shoving her shoulder into yours as she walks.

“yeah right, he’s so infatuated with kirby i would just embarrass myself if i told him i liked him.” you state rolling your eyes. “he’d laugh in my face probably”

“he’s too sweet to do all that” your friend says stopping once you reach her car, “charlie walker is probably not the type of person to be rude about letting someone down, he’d probably say thank you and talk about a movie that’s about to come out”

she unlocks her car as you laugh at her joke, trying to ease the nerves in your stomach. you wave goodbye and turn to leave, hearing your friend shout out her window “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do”

you laugh as you walk to your car, sitting in the drivers seat and starting it before heading home.

maybe she’s right, i should just say something.

~~~

you wipe the steam off of the bathroom mirror after stepping out of the shower, skin red from the burning shower you took. you start to pat your damp skin dry before you heard a knock on your door. checking the time to see it was 2:45. fuck, he’s early.

you wrap yourself with the towel tightly before you start down the steps to answer the front door.

“hey” charlie starts, face starting to get beat red after noticing you in a towel. you notice him start to fidget with his hands.

“you’re early char” you say opening the door wider and waving him in. “you can wait in my room while i get dressed, it’s upstairs next to the bathroom”

you both start to walk up the steps and you point to the right when you get to the top. “it’s on the door on the left, get comfortable and i’ll be right there”

you hear charlie hum and grip the strap on his bag before he turns to your room. you step into the bathroom and finish getting dressed, drying your skin and putting on comfortable shorts and a crop top. you head back to your room and stand in the doorway, noticing charlie with his back to the door, looking at the pictures and vinyls hung on your walls.

“you’re not going to steal anything, are you?” you tease, sitting on the middle of your bed with your bag, pulling out your history books.

“of course not” charlie says, “just looking at all your stuff”

he takes a seat across from you, where he had preset his books and notes from class. you grab your phone and turn on some music, asking if the choice was okay and a hum of approval in response.

“so, where should we start?” you ask.

~~~

you guys worked on your project for about an hour before you heard your stomach growl. you drop your pencil and look up at charlie who was scribbling away. “are you hungry, char?” you ask

he hummed no at your question and you started to get anxious at his lack of response, he normally would talk your ear off about anything and everything. “is everything okay?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“you’re just really quiet today, i wanted to make sure everything is alright with you.”

“i just want to finish this project so i’ll get out of your hair, i know that you don’t really want me around”

his response caught you very off guard. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, shaking your head back and forth softly. “what are you talking about?”

he shrugged his shoulders, not looking up from his lap.

“char, look at me” he looked up at you, trying hard to keep eye contact. “why would you think that?”

“you said earlier you wanted to get the project over with so you could make other plans this weekend.”

you noticed him look back towards his lap and you were confused on what he was talking about

“i figured since you don’t like me, you wanted to get rid of me quicker”

your eyes softened, realizing you didn’t phrase your comment from earlier properly. you immediately felt bad, you never wanted him to think that you didn’t like him. you liked charlie, quite a bit actually. he was very smart, charismatic, and oh so sweet; you couldn’t believe he thought you hated him.

you scooted closer to him, setting his hand on his knee. he looked up towards you with a nervous expression.

“i don’t hate you, i’m so sorry that i made you think i did. i was just upset earlier that we were given a weekend project the same week my parents were out of town” you gave his leg a little squeeze

“oh” he replied, holding eye contact with you. “now i feel stupid”

“don’t feel stupid, it was all my fault. i’ll hang out with you all weekend just to prove to you i like you.” you paused, wanting to say something more. you took your hand off his knee and put it in your lap, looking at the ground, you took in a deep breath.

“actually char,” you start to trail off, feeling the nerves all the way down to your toes. “i really like you”

“what?” you felt the bed move, charlie shifting in his seat

“i don’t expect you to feel the same, i know you have a crush on kirby, robbie told me a while ago, i just felt like i needed to tell you before i lost the courage to”

charlie didn’t say anything, he felt so dumbfounded by your sudden release. he didn’t know what to say, he liked you to, he just never knew how to express it. he liked how kind you were to everyone and how you always loved to listen about everything he has to say.

you got up from your seat quick, anxiety crashing at his silence. “i’m so sorry, just forget i said anything. i’m going to grab a water” you state, heading towards the door

“wait” you heard him get up from the bed and head towards you, “do you mean it?”

you make eye contact, “of course i mean it, i wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true char”

he stood directly in front of you, “i like you too”

neither of you said anything after that, all that could be heard was both of your breaths and the quiet sound of radiohead coming from your phone. he looked between your eyes and your lips.

“do you want to kiss me charlie?”

“yes” he says softly

you felt his lips on yours, pecking slightly. he was so nervous, you knew you had to lead

“do you want to make out with me?”

“please” he nodded quick, looking back to your lips.

you lean forward to kiss him, hands moving up to the back of his neck. you could feel his hands on your hips, barely making contact. you slightly pull away, catching your breath.

“please touch me char”

you felt him grab your waist, pulling you back to his lips. you rake your fingers through his hair, pulling at the root slightly. he whimpered at the feeling, gripping your sides harder.

you started to walk the both of you slowly toward the bed, not breaking away from the kiss. you settled into his lap, feeling his hands glued in place.

“you can touch me anywhere” you say breathless, pulling away

“i’ve never done this before” he admits shamefully

“we can do whatever you feel comfortable with.” you reply, playing with his hair.

you felt one of charlie’s hands leave your hip, slowly heading towards your chest. he let out a breath when he felt you weren’t wearing a bra. he was gentle with his touch, as though he was scared to break you. your hand found his and pressed harder, encouraging his movements.

he started to kneed his hands, rubbing his thumb back and forth over your nipple. you let out a soft moan, pushing your lips back to his. you started to grind your hips back and forth, earning a breathy sound from his mouth. he opened his eyes to look up at you and you took the opportunity to bite the bottom of his lip, moving immediately to his neck, rubbing his cock with your hands.

“is this okay baby?”

“fuck- yes please”

you start biting and kissing the skin below his ear, moving your hands to start unbuttoning his shirt. he shrugs it off his shoulders and you start to make your way down to kneel on the floor, kissing and sucking his skin on your way. you look up at him as you fumble with his zipper, batting your eyelashes at him. he sits up slowly to help pull his pants down, taking his underwear with him. he sets his hands on either side of his legs, slightly gripping the sheets with nerves.

you take his dick in your hands, shocked at the size, before spitting on it. you rub your hands up and down earning a moan from charlie.

“fuck- please i-” he trailed off when you kissed the head, tasting salt on your lips.

“please what baby?” still stroking his cock

“i need more, i want more please”

you lick a long strip from his balls to the tip before putting him in your mouth. slowing going up and down using your hands to help with what you can’t fit. you grab charlie’s hand, moving it from his side to the top of your head. he laces his fingers in your hair, slightly pushing and pulling with your movements.

“i think i’m going to cum”

you pull off, stroking him quick with your hands, “are you going to cum in my mouth char? be a good boy and cum in my mouth for me”

he nodded, eyes shut tight as his head leaned back. “say it charlie, tell me”

he opened his eyes, locked with yours. wiping a tear from your face, so fucking pretty.

“i’m gonna cum for you like a good boy fuck-”

you went right back to work, taking him deeper and blinking the tears from your eyes. you wanted to see charlie cum so bad, you felt your hands move down inside your shorts. rubbing your clit over your panties.

“fuck, i’m cumming, please let me cum. wanna be good for you”

you moaned around his dick and felt charlie grip your hair harder. his dick started to twitch and you felt your mouth get hot, cum filling your throat and mouth. you pulled off slowly, swallowing as you went, keeping your mouth open to pump the rest of his cum on your tounge.

charlie was a rambling, moaning mess. whispering how good it felt and how good you were. he saw you give his dick one last kiss and come back up to meet him face to face.

“thank you”

you gave him a quick kiss, giggling. “you don’t have to say thank you”

he wanted to say it a hundred times over, he couldn’t believe that he just got head for the first time. “can i…” he trailed off

“can you do what char?” you sounded so innocent, like you didn’t just finish choking and gagging on his dick.

“can i do you now?”

you got close to him, kissing up his neck. “you want to eat me out baby?”

“yes, please. please let me make you feel good”

you nodded and stood up from your seat next to him, pushing your notes to the bottom half of the bed. you slipped your top off and pushed your pants down your legs, getting comfortable by your pillows. “come here char”

charlie was quick to move above you, taking your lips to his, touching anywhere his hands could move.

“i might need some help” he sighs sheepishly.

“start by moving all the way down” you say as you give him a quick kiss for encouragement. “do whatever you think is right, i’ll tell you if i don’t like it”

he nodded and moved to your neck, kissing and licking, keeping his hands roaming. you felt him reach your nipples, his hot breath close before sticking his touch out to lick one. he saw your lips open to let out a quiet gasp of air and started to suck, earning a moan in response. he moved his hand, pinching and pulling at the left while he kept his mouth at the right, then switching.

“just like that pretty boy” you said as you move your hand to play with his hair.

he was blushing at the pet name, feeling his cock getting hard against your hip. he started to move down, kissing anywhere and everywhere he could, scared you’ll change your mind. he makes it past your stomach and to your thighs, gently pulling them apart.

he lets out a subtle groan, “so pretty” he mumbles. “can i touch you?” he says rubbing his hands up and down your thighs.

“of course” you sigh, anxiously waiting for his touch

he slowly brings his hands to your pussy, collecting your wetness on his fingers and spreading it around. he finds your clit and starts to rub in small, slow circles, watching you raise your hips slightly.

“right there baby” you say closing your eyes.

he brings his mouth to your pussy, licking a long strip from your hole to your clit. “you taste so good” he says lowly, almost to himself. he continues to play with your clit and eat you out. trying different rhythms and motions based on your movements and sounds.

“char, please put a finger in. i’m so close”

charlie is quick to push in and up, finding that sweet spot. you grab his hair, pulling at the root.

“fuck yes, right there”

he can’t help it, all the mumbling and moaning makes him start to grind into the bed, intoxicated by you. he can feel his cock, hard and throbbing against your silk green sheats.

he slowly slides in a second finger, curling them upwards, taking your clit between his lips and sucking softly.

“i’m gonna cum” you felt your body start to feel fuzzy, stomach pulling at the feeling. “fuck charlie, i’m cumming”

you felt yourself tighten against his fingers, grinding down on his tongue, which was eager to lap up your release. you heard him whimper, seeing his hips stutter against the bed.

he pulls his head up from your pussy, making sure to not look at you in the face. “i’m so sorry”

you look at him confused, leaning forward to see the wet spot on your sheets. you smirk at him, grabbing his hand and licking your juices off his fingers.

“don’t be sorry, this was amazing,” you lean forward to kiss him “and knowing you came from eating me out is kinda hot”

you giggle as you lean back, still catching your breath. charlie moves beside you softly rubbing your hand. “so what do we do now?”

you look up at him, “well” you start lacing your fingers with his “for now, we lay here until we fall asleep. then tomorrow morning we’ll wake up and shower and maybe finish where we left off”

charlie grins from ear to ear, “oh yeah?”

“i mean, if that’s alright with you” you mumble

“being with you is alright for me” he says, kissing your forehead.

[cultofdixon]

Only you understand

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • There’s only one person on Daryl’s good side and it’s not even his brother. So when certain decisions led to leaving Merle chained to a roof, you were the one to talk to the youngest Dixon • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Unprotected Sex / Groping / Grinding • TW: Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

She’s heard it all

Y/N I could use a favor?

Got a second Y/N?

Mind talking to them, Y/N?

Sweetheart, can I pick your ear about something?

It all falls around the same thing. Asking the Dixon Brothers for anything…mainly for help acquiring food within the woods that the sickos haven’t taken for themselves. But they did everything she asked. Some thought it was because Merle would do anything and everything for her attention even if she doesn’t give him an ounce of anything.

But it’s really Daryl. Y/N is the only one that the youngest Dixon brother tolerates and some, more like Glenn alone, believes the Dixon likes her personally.

“Y/N…we need yea for something” Dale didn’t mean to disturb the girl when she was in the middle of another batch of squirrels she was skinning to prepare for the stew.

“Dale. This must be serious” Y/N half jokes as she wipes her knife off with her rag. “You’re usually not the one to ask me for help”

“Right well, you know the drill” Dale frowns removing his bucket hat and squeezing it out of nervous habit. “This isn’t gonna go well”

“If it’s anything like Daryl and Shane fighting over a little dispute about hunting grounds, I think I can handle—-“

“Lori’s husband came back with the Atlanta group, but they left Merle behind hand cuffed to roof” Dale stated without hesitating or letting Y/N process as she drops everything to go check on Lori for another personal matter that almost everybody knows about before thinking of the words to tell Daryl when he returns from his hunting trip.

When Y/N made herself known to the man that left the eldest Dixon behind as she felt a sense of warmth with the family reunion. But she knew that was going to be cut extremely short if Daryl gets his hands on him.

“You’re the Rick guy?”

“You must be Y/N, the resident Dixon whi—-“

“If you call me that stupid fucking shit that Shane came up with, I will hit you in front of your son” Y/N frowns watching Rick zip his lips to let her get to it. “What’s your plan here?”

“I don’t think I get what you mean” Rick laughs slightly only to immediately stop when it wasn’t getting anywhere with Y/N. “Are you talking about getting Merle back? I think we can do a bit of justice without the racist son of a bitch”

“Oh believe me, I agree wholeheartedly with that. But he’s not your family. I think you can agree that if it were you that got left behind, that you would want someone to come and find you” Y/N watches his expression fall making her cross her arms and stand her ground. “Right. You understand that completely and no one came to bring you back”

“Now that’s uncalled for, Y/N” Shane interrupts only for Y/N to take her leave on that note, picking up her axe from beside the put out fire pit.

“Sit with it, Shane. Call me when you have a plan, I have to try and keep his ass from being killed by the man who’s brother you left on that roof” as Y/N leaves the group to follow a familiar hunting ground to find the archer, Rick was left thinking about what she said.

No one came back for him.

The next day came around and the woods were quiet until they weren’t…

“Stupid fucking shit” Daryl curses under his breath over another deer being eaten by another walker.

As he knelt down to get a look at the damage to see if he could take any of the meat back, he heard a shift in the woods. The archer quickly rose to his feet aiming his crossbow and when the figure didn’t make themselves known, he fired.

Daryl instantly tensed when Y/N made herself known with an annoyed expression at him and the arrow in the tree beside her head.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“I should be askin’ yea the same thing!” Daryl scoffs taking the arrow from her hand once she pulled it out. “I could’ve killed yea”

“Yeah well you’d do me a favor” The one thing he hated about her was her joking about death. “You gotta head back”

“Yeah?” Daryl scoffs putting his arrow away. “Ran out of food?”

“No, I’ve given them my squirrels to make a stew out of. But this is more of a matter regarding your idiotic brother”

Why did you give them the food I caught for—-“Wait. Merle? Is he back?”

“Daryl no he—-“ Daryl brushes past Y/N causing her to quickly deflate and follow him back to the campsite.

“Swear, yea think I don’t know they get yeah to talk to me about my idiot brother”

“I mean would you rather have Shane talk to you about Merle? Now Daryl come on. I gotta tell yea—-“ Y/N stops herself when he rose his hand indicating he heard something.

Daryl gave her a quick sign that it was another deer and then Y/N decided to take a second to put the Merle conversation on the back burner.

“They never make it this far up the mountain” Dale frowns staring at the walker that Jim had finished off once the group addressed the children’s screaming.

“They are running out of food in the city” Jim states stepping away from the carcass and the undead beside it.

Before any of them thought of walking back, that’s when the bushes started to rustle some more. Shane instantly readied his shotgun aiming toward the sound until he lowered it along with the others doing the same with their weapons of choice when their resident hunter popped out with the “Dixon whisperer” following behind him.

“Son of a bitch” Daryl scoffs bringing himself over to the deer. “That’s my deer…look at it. All gnawed on by this—“ he quickly kicked the walker out of anger. “Filthy, disease-bearing, motherless proxy bastard!”

“Daryl, come on” Y/N elbowed him when she brought herself close, giving Rick a certain look to watch his words.

“Think we can—-“

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Dar. It’s not safe” She pushes him carefully away from the tainted meat as Shane couldn’t agree more but when his voice spoke up, both gave him an annoyed look.

Then it was time.

“Merle!” Daryl calls out brushing passed everyone as both Shane and Rick gave Y/N a confused look.

“What?! You think I can instantly get through to the guy? It’s a conversation not a “oh by the way” type shit like you pigs are used to” Y/N scoffs shoving Shane to catch up to Daryl.

“MERLE! GET YOUR UGLY ASS OUT HERE” Daryl shouts once more, surprised slightly that his idiot brother didn’t instantly come. “I got us some squirrel! Gotta help Y/N skin’em for the stew!”

“Daryl, hold up. I need to talk to you” Shane caught up pushing Y/N aside as that lead her to give Lori a glare on the matter given she knows her hatred for the man. Not that she fully expresses it given what she’s walked on in the woods.

Daryl slowed his movement turning around to the pig watching him hesitate before getting to it.

“There’s been an incident in Atlanta…about Merle”

The tension grew in the space making the archer give his only close friend there a blank expression that she wasn’t giving him any answer from hers.

“He dead?”

“We’re not sure” And that caused the emotions to rise.

“He either is or he ain’t!” Daryl rose his voice watching the unfamiliar man bring himself over.

“No easy way to say this so I’ll just say it—-“

“Who are you?”

“Rick Grimes—-“

“Rick Grimes” Daryl mocks watching Y/N get closer to the situation. “You’ve got something you want to tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all” Okay… “So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He’s still there” Rick states watching Daryl’s rage grow on his face as he takes a step back scoffing slightly with a hint of a chuckle.

“Hold on, let me process this—-“ Daryl laughs with the venom in his tone of voice. “You saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and YOU LEFT HIM THERE?!”

The silent “yeah” that came out of Rick made Y/N wince ahead of time for what was about to happen next. Even if Daryl didn’t land a punch on either ex-cops. It wasn’t until Shane started to get Daryl into a chokehold that she brought herself over clawing at him to let go.

“Nah he’s gotta calm down before I—-“ And without another thought, Y/N punched Shane square in the jaw to let go of Daryl. She quickly caught his knife under her foot to swipe it away from him trying to get a shot on the new comer. “You crazy son of a bitch!” He barked at her as Y/N quickly stood in front of Daryl blocking him from either of the two.

“Chokeholds illegal asshole” Y/N barked back getting up in his face to have him stand back and away from Dixon. “Seriously. You fucking morons”

“You clearly didn’t prepare—-“

“Oh and you fucking did?” Y/N scoffs at Rick bringing herself to Daryl. “You need to let me fucking tell you next time so this wouldn’t happen. Can’t have them being fucking entitled dicks to the only motherfucker that understands me! Jesus.”

The tension only grew within the group as Daryl couldn’t calm the pounding in his chest when she said such.

“He listens. Rick’s gonna go and get him” Lori was quick to add crossing her arms as she wasn’t exactly happy about the situation. “He’ll listen to about anybody but his wife.”

Daryl waited for the group to disperse before bringing himself over to Y/N, taking her by the arm and dragging her slightly to his tent.

“You’re hurting me—-“ Y/N frowns as Daryl lets go quickly giving her a stern look before taking her hand into his to check the bruising from punching Shane. “It’s nothing.”

“Okay—-Sure” Daryl scoffs. “Yea ain’t coming”

“Seriously? How the fuck—-“

“YOU JUST AINT” He snaps a bit too close to her face resulting in a flinch coming from her as Y/N puffed up. “I don’t trust that Grimes guy and I ain’t letting yea near him after the fucking stunt he pulled with Merle”

“I can handle myself, Daryl.”

“Yeah. No shit. But you don’t have’ta” Daryl frowns feeling her presence grow closer to his person as he towered her slightly. “You didn’t have to stand up for me”

“Little too late for that. I just…wanted yea to know what happened from someone who gives a damn.” Y/N took a step back keeping her attention on him as the look in his expression seemed to want more and that drew the pounding in her chest to get louder. “Well find Merle, and whether you like it or not. I’m coming with”

I can’t lose you. Daryl frowns followed by a nod deciding not to argue further with the woman.

But nothing went their way since returning back to Atlanta, even when returning back to the quarry empty handed…

After taking out the herd that swept through the quarry camp, Daryl didn’t hesitate to shove T-Dog out of the way of getting to Y/N. She strayed from the group when returning to take out a few walkers by Carol and her daughter, he didn’t see her until the dust settled and wasn’t about to lose his mind all over again.

“You bit?!”

“No! Are you?” Y/N went to check his person as Daryl tugged her aside from everyone else back to their secluded corner. “Daryl please just answer—-“ she was instantly cut off by his lips smashing into hers, making her drop her axe to bring her hands onto either side of his face. In her mind the timing could’ve been better but neither of them was going to interrupt the moment. “Dar—-“ she breathed when their lips parted a moment.

“Ain’t bit.” He quickly responds with while returning his lips to hers as he drops his crossbow to his side bringing his hands to her hips gripping them.

Y/N tugged back a bit receiving a concerned look from Daryl until she brought her hands to his belt and he got the idea. He helped her get the belt off that led her to work at the buttons while he slipped her shirt off quickly bringing his hands back to her hips tugging her jeans down steadying her to finish removing them. Daryl brought his lips to hers once more before moving to her cheek down to her neck and then her collarbone working his way down while helping her descend along with him.

“Can’t—-“ He exhaled suddenly making Y/N stop her actions until he pressed his forehead against hers. “Can’t lose yea” he sighs feeling her arms snake around his neck while he positioned himself in between her legs towering her on the dirt.

“I’m right here, Dixon” She returned her lips quickly to his as he feverishly kissed her while bringing his hands below the belt to remove her panties along with pushing his pants and boxers further for his cock to spring out.

While Y/N found purchase on the back of his shirt, Daryl started to push his length in inch by inch listening to her gasps as she dug her nails into the fabric bringing her legs around his lower back. He didn’t move right away and waited for her to adjust once he was fully sheathed.

“Y/N—-“

“Please” Her voice shook with anticipation wanting him to move but there was more to it as she brushes her face against his feeling his lips graze her features. “Please tell me it ain’t just me”

“It ain’t just you, sunshine” He exhales, starting to move thrusting inside of her warmth listening to her quiet sounds wishing he could drive them out but didn’t want anyone to interrupt them.

As he picked up the pace, Daryl felt her tighten around him drawing a low growl to escape his lips feeling her bring themselves to his shoulder and bite down when she felt the cord begin to snap.

“Let go for me, sunshine” Daryl begged bringing his lips back onto hers listening to her hum while bucking her hips against his as he moans into her mouth at the feeling of her unraveling. “Fuck—“ he pulls out quickly before he could climax inside of her.

The archer carefully lays on top of her feeling her death grip on his shirt weaken and flatten her hands against his torso. Slowly bringing one of her hands to run through his hair as they both panted softly remaining in the other’s embrace.

“Y/N…”

“Hm?”

“I can’t lose yea” Daryl frowns feeling her tighten around him for reassurance.

“You’re stuck with me, Daryl” She laughs softly feeling him shift to rise above her to look at her as she couldn’t help the littlest head tilt wondering more of what’s going on in that mind of his. “What is it?”

“Guess this uh…explains a lot of what I’ve been feelin’ lately” He laughs slightly with her joining.

“Truly, and uhm. I hope this…isn’t the only time and—“

“You’re mine, sunshine. We’re something”

“We’re something” Y/N smiles catching a glimpse of his smile before he started to clean themselves up.

It took them long enough.

[dix0nspretty]

Lost and Found

Summary: On a run into a nearby town, Daryl and Y/N encounter a bad group of men. Daryl takes a beating and you get taken. He won't stop until he finds you.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 5.7k words

Era: Prison! Post-Woodbury merge, pre-attack

TW: 18+ SA and attempted rape. Please don't push your boundaries!

Here it is, my first Walking Dead fanfiction and the first fic I've written or published in over 8 years. Feel free to leave comments, criticism, requests, and anything else! Hopefully, yall enjoy!

3 hours and 27 minutes.

That’s how long Daryl had been searching for you. How long you’ve been missing, since you’ve been taken.

It was supposed to be a normal run, calm even. A few days ago, the two of you found a seemingly untouched bookstore 30 minutes from the prison. You wanted to go in, practically begged Daryl to stop. To your immense disappointment, he refused.

“Daryl, please!” You pouted from the passenger seat of the truck.

He could hear the whine in your voice and focused his attention on the road. If he looked over and saw your full lips in a frown, he would give right there. He would do anything for you, and you knew it. This trick has worked on him since the early days of the quarry since you walked up to him and asked him to watch over you while you cleaned off in the water. He didn’t know you, hell, he could hardly stand you or anybody else, but he risked a glance up at your face. Your pretty eyes locked with his for just a moment, but that was all it took. He was yours for good.

“Nah, ain’t cleared. ‘Sides, don’t have enough room as is.” His rough voice answered, doing his best to keep his composure. He didn’t like telling you no. The truck was full of supplies, food and the like, for your group as well as the newcomers from Woodbury. You couldn’t fit goods from the bookstore.

He could feel the disappointment radiating from your side of the truck. He wouldn’t give in, not this time. But-

“We can come back later. Busy with Rick the next few days, but I’ll bring ya back.”

A cheer rang out. “Yes! You promise?” He fought to keep a grin off his face and nodded his affirmation. He glanced your way and saw the brightest smile on your face.

You excitedly began planning what you would grab, talking about all the books you could bring back for the children, for Carol, for yourself. Daryl didn’t recognize most of the titles and certainly none of the authors, but that didn’t matter. He would do anything for you, just to see that beautiful smile.

That was three days ago. Now, instead of gushing over your books, you were missing. Daryl doesn’t know how they knew you were coming, but not long after your arrival at the shopping center that housed the bookstore, you were both attacked.

Daryl somehow convinced you to stay in the truck while he cleared the stores of either side of your target. If anything went wrong in the main store, you could retreat through the connected alleyway and escape through one of these. The stores were clear of both people and walkers. Thinking back, he should’ve known better. If he wasn’t so wrapped up in the image of you waiting for him, maybe he would’ve been suspicious. Maybe he would have used his fucking brain.

Instead of doing his damn job and making sure you were safe, they got the jump on him. Daryl turned a corner on his way back to you and took a mean punch in the face. He stumbled back and tried to fire his crossbow at the attacker, but he was disarmed by another man. He took hit after hit, doing his best to fight back and hoping to God they didn’t see you outside. He was on the ground taking boots to the ribs and punches to the face when he heard your voice. No.

“Daryl?” You weren’t in the store yet, but you would be in no time. The hits lightened up at the sound and something akin to fear and desperation made him call out to you. He couldn’t risk you walking in and not knowing what awaited you. He wouldn’t be able to help you if he tried.

“Y/N, go! Get out-” He was cut off by a hard hit with the butt of a gun. The world spun and Daryl couldn’t see past the kaleidoscope of pain.

Despite his warning, you skidded to a stop in the doorway, taking in the scene in front of you.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous. Y/N, is it? Aren’t you a pretty thing. Name’s Robert.” A voice from above spoke and he vowed to cut the man’s tongue from his throat. He could hear the threat. You needed to get out of here before they hurt you or worse.

“Ya touch her and I swear to God...” Daryl growled. He was going to skin this man alive. He would cut his fingers off and feed them to him. Him and his buddies were going to wish they never spoke to you.

“God?” Robert huffs. “What are you and God gonna do? Huh?” He sauntered over to you. For every step the man took towards you, you retreated until you hit the wall. Daryl didn’t know why the hell you didn’t just run when he told you to. He wasn’t worth risking your life over.

When you were backed into a corner, Robert grinned. The fear on your face was exactly what that asshole wanted. He laid a hand against your throat and caressed your chin with his thumb. If Daryl could stand, he wouldn’t have no hand.

“W-what do you want?” Your eyes flicked back and forth from the threat in front of you to Daryl’s bloody form on the ground. He could see the anger and fear on your face and was furious at himself for getting the two of you into this position. If he just paid attention…

“I want to take that mouth of yours out for a test run, but I have a feeling you like to bite.”

Fuck this. Daryl lashed out at the closest person, and they dropped to one knee. Before anyone could react, he hauled himself up and kicked the same spot and was rewarded with a sickening crunch. Despite the burning in his ribs and chest, he spun around and delivered a right cross to the next man. He dropped and Daryl stalked towards you but was stopped in his tracks by the tell-tale click of a safety releasing.

“Take another step and I’ll blow her little brains all over the wall. Don’t think I won’t just because she’s a nice piece of ass.” The gun was pressed firmly against your forehead leaving no room to disarm him. The first tear rolled down your cheek as your chin quivered. Without looking away from Daryl, Robert leaned forward and slowly licked it off your face. You whimpered and tried to withdraw. The sound broke something in him, he would do anything to never have to hear you sound so helpless again.

 “Now you are going to sit your ass down and behave. Don’t make me hurt her.” Daryl wanted nothing more than to bash the fucker’s face in, but he couldn’t risk any more pain coming to you.

Shaking from the restraint, he forced himself backwards. One of the men grabbed him and shoved him onto his knees. He leaned in and locked eyes with Daryl.

“You broke my friend’s leg. Either you or the girl has to pay for that.” His rank breath invaded Daryl’s space and he glared daggers at him. His breath came out in huffs as he tried to keep his rage under control. The constant threats weren’t helping him restrain himself.

Daryl jerkily nodded. “Take it from me. Just leave her ‘lone.” He heard you cry out and instinctively broke eye contact to search for you. You were in the same spot, not having moved an inch. You looked devastated and he found it hard to keep eye contact with you, knowing he couldn’t help.

Tears continued to roll down your face as you sobbed. “Don’t- Don’t hurt him. Just let him go. Let him go and I’ll come with y’all.” What the hell were you thinking? He wasn’t going to let them take you anywhere. They could take their anger out on him, but they couldn’t have you. He was about to voice these thoughts before Robert spoke up.

“How about we hurt him and take you anyway?” He grinned maliciously, looking between the two of you. He was enjoying this display of emotion, and it made Daryl sick to his stomach.

His minions wasted no time and took Daryl for round 2 of his beatdown. He didn’t try to fight back; he kept his eyes locked on you. You would be okay. The longer they focused on him, the more chance for you to get away.

You could protect yourself if he couldn’t, he had made sure of that. Back at the farm, when Shane was becoming a threat to everyone, he taught you everything he knew. He was terrified you would be alone with him and in danger, so he taught you how to defend yourself.

He hated seeing the tears glistening in your eyes, hated being the cause of them, but if you were crying then you were alive. That’s all that mattered.

Daryl’s vision was getting hazy. He knew that if he went unconscious you would be alone and in danger, but he couldn’t stop it. He was sure he heard you calling his name before everything faded to black.

Daryl wasn’t sure how long he was unconscious for. His wounds stung, and the busted skin from the boots was bleeding steadily, so it couldn’t have been long. The blood on the floor was still wet.

The first thing he noticed was the silence. His hearing was sharp from years of hunting experience, and he knew there was nothing, undead or alive, in the store.

Where the hell were you?

He managed to get himself off the ground and ignored the immense pain he was in. It hurt like a bitch, but he would live. Blood and cracked ribs hadn’t stopped him before and it certainly wouldn’t now, not without knowing you were safe.

Robert and his men took Daryl’s crossbow but not his knives. While this put him at a disadvantage, he relished the idea of looking into their eyes while he gutted them. You were his.

He found your hunting knife not far from where you last stood. They must have forced you to disarm. If they were smart, which they clearly weren’t, he grumbled, then they would have patted you down. They didn’t see you as the threat you could be and so they were unaware of the second knife in your possession.

Something flared in his chest as he realized that it was his knife you were armed with. You took it some weeks ago and never gave it back. To be honest, watching you use it to kill walkers and train made his heart light up. At least he was with you in some capacity.

Daryl followed the disturbances on the ground. The parking lot was covered in dirt and leaves, so he could get an idea of which direction they went. There were two possible paths: the road or the woods. And because these dicks didn’t know who they fucked with; they went with the latter. Stupid sons of bitches. They walked right into his domain.

Y/N’s POV

Oh, these bastards are gonna pay.

The leader, Robert, had a hand wrapped around my waist. He was leading me into the woods and away from the shopping center. The creep’s hand kept wandering to my ass and I fought the urge to stab him in the throat now. I would get the pleasure of killing him but the other two would be able to subdue me quickly. It was better to wait.

“Still thinking about your archer? I’m sure he’s dead by now. Left the doors open for our rotting buddies to get a free meal.” His hand squeezed around my waist. I was sick of him touching me.

“Fuck you, you rapey asshole.” I spat. The only reason I was so meek in the store was in the hopes that it could help Daryl. Now he’s back there hurt while we are parading through the woods. No reason to keep my attitude in check now.

Robert’s hand disappeared from my side and a resounding smack filled the air as he backhanded me. I nearly fell to the ground, stumbling from the force, but he yanked me upright and slammed me into a tree.

“You’ll learn to watch your mouth, girl. Keep that attitude in check or I’ll have to show you something better to do with it.” He leaned in and took a deep breath, his nose tracing the skin of my shoulder up to my pulse point. I shuddered and did my best to not physically rebel. Handsy, I could handle. I didn’t want to see what would happen if I gave them a reason to go any further.

A rustling in the trees drew everyone’s attention and thankfully, Robert away from me. Daryl?

It was not my archer; it was a small herd of walkers. From my spot against the tree, I was the farthest away and had a front row seat. I watched as one of the walkers attacked the dude with the broken leg. He struggled with it for a minute but lost as his leg crumpled under his weight and a chunk of flesh was ripped from his throat.

The man screamed and screamed as his friends fought the others off. I couldn’t help feeling a sick sense of satisfaction and retribution as I watched him slowly die. Daryl breaking that man’s leg just sentenced him to death and helped even the odds. Even when he wasn’t here, he was protecting me.

Robert was using Daryl’s crossbow. His filthy hands were touching Daryl’s crossbow. I almost saw red at the disrespect he was displaying. Despite the dick’s handle on Daryl’s prized possession, I needed to focus on getting away.

I could run while they’re distracted… Unfortunately, Robert and his remaining friend managed to gain the upper hand against the herd before I had time to make my move. The one unnamed guy yanked me up by arm and dragged me towards Robert, who was staring down at his dead friend.

“What a shame. Nick was a good man.” Yeah, right. “He was slowing us down. Saved me the bullet.” He said impassively.

Oh shit. If he only cared about his friend in terms of how he could help or hinder, things could be worse for me than I thought. I needed to get out of here, and soon. As his buddy forced me past Nick’s body, I stumbled and fell to the ground. Blood coated my hands and knees.

“Goddamnit, girl. You that fuckin’ slow?” He seethed in my ear as he dragged me up from the ground.

“Now now, there’s no reason to get mad. Y/N’s just in shock. Never seen someone die by a geek?” Robert asked in his condescending tone. Of course, he thought I was a helpless girl, protected and sheltered from what life is now. Why not give him more reason to doubt my abilities?

“I, uh. Y-yeah. I knew it happened but I’ve never…” My voice wavered. I really needed to sell this. I thought about Daryl, how he was bloody and unmoving on the floor as they dragged me out. He could be dead and not just hurt. Tears sprang in my eyes and I sniffled.

“Well, we’ll keep you safe gorgeous.” Robert moved to take his friend’s place at my side, sending him to walk ahead of us. We edged around the puddle of blood and continued forward.

He didn’t notice me leaving a bloody handprint on the nearest tree.

Daryl’s POV

It wasn’t a hard trail to follow. Robert’s men took large, heavy steps through the foliage. To his relief, Daryl found evidence that you were still walking on your own. Smaller tracks, but not nearly as light as they could be. You weren’t trying to be careful. It was clear that you resisted at first, but someone must’ve forced you forwards, either by gunpoint or otherwise. He hoped it was the latter. Either way, he would find you soon enough.

Daryl followed as quickly and silently as he could. There were little to no walkers for much of the trek. The ones he did encounter, he dispatched quietly. He didn’t want to risk alerting the group of men that he was close behind. After some time, he began to see signs of a scuffle.

What happened here?

Scanning the ground, it was clear to Daryl that you were shoved. The set of feet that were by your side, too close to your side for his liking, stayed in one spot while yours dragged backwards.

The son of a bitch had put his hands on her. If he hurt you… The men were already going to die for taking you, but Daryl could drag it out. No need to make it clean and quick.

He looked at the scene ahead of the tree. Blood, walkers, and a dead body. Daryl’s heart stopped in his chest. He took out the few walkers that were feasting on the body, adding to the pile of corpses already laying in the dirt. He slowly approached the bloody form. His heartbeat in his throat so hard he thought he would choke on it. God, please don’t let it be her, don’t let it be Y/N.

Daryl forced himself to investigate the face of the body on the ground and thought he would cry in relief. It wasn’t you. No, it was one of the men from the stores. The one who’s leg he broke.

A violent grin pulled at the edges of his lips. One down, two to go. Daryl could take two people in a fight. The element of surprise would be on his side if he stayed undetected, a skill he’d perfected.

Standing back up, Daryl looked for a new set of tracks. There were no obvious trails, the walkers would have mucked them up, but there was an odd smear in the blood. Someone had disturbed the pool. Daryl lightly touched the liquid. It was still warm, he couldn’t be more than 5 or 10 minutes behind you now.

He scanned the immediate area and found a mark. It was a bloody handprint, deliberately pressed. Daryl’s fingers ghosted across the stain and a genuine smile crossed his face. My clever girl.

Y/N’s POV

Night fell and Robert stopped to set up a small fire. I left bloody marks on as many trees as possible. If Daryl is out there, he has a path almost all the way to me. If he’s even alive.

“Y/N. Can’t be over there by yourself, sweetheart. Come sit with me.” Robert looked up at me and he eyes shined with something I didn’t want to name. I hesitated. I didn’t want to leave my spot by the tree line. I felt relatively safe over here, where neither of the men could grab me.

“Girl don’t make me ask again. Over here. Now.” I knew I needed to move towards the fire, but my feet wouldn’t shift from their spot. I was pissing them both off, risking a beating or worse with no possible backup. If Daryl were here, he’d be furious.

But that’s it. Daryl isn’t here. It’s me and two violent, unstable men. I started to turn towards into the shadows, but Robert was by my side in a flash. His hand wound itself into my hair and pulled savagely.

I yelped as he dragged me towards the fire by my hair. My scalp was stinging, and no amount of fighting would get him to let up. I wasn’t in a position to force his release, my feet scrambling in the dirt as I fought to pull myself up. I was thrown fully down, and his hand was no longer in my hair.

The split second of relief was gone in a flash as he kicked me in the ribs. I let out a short scream before my breath was knocked from my chest as he kicked again once, twice, three times. They burned more than they should. Steel-toed boots.

“You fucking bitch, I told you to listen to me. Now I gotta punish you because you can’t be good.” Robert crouched by my side as I fought to catch my breath past the burning ache. The other man hovered by my opposite side, effectively blocking me in. Now I’d antagonized both men and lost my chance to get away.

My heart froze in my chest as I heard the clink of a belt buckle. No, no, no. I fought with renewed vigor, trying to shove myself past the men and into the safety of the trees. I only made it a few steps before a hand seized my ankle and I hit the ground. My ribs lit up with pain and I could barely see past the stars in my eyes as I was dragged backwards and flipped up to face Robert. He leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“I like it when you fight. What if I let you go, give you a two-minute head start? Chasing you through the woods would get me so hot.” He groped at me through my shirt and grabbed my chin, forcing me into a rough kiss. There was no way for me to reach Daryl’s knife in my boot, so I did the only thing I could. I bit into his lip and tore it off his face.

Blood rushed onto my face as he let out a hoarse scream and fell backwards. His eyes were wide and stunned.

“Thought you said you could tell I liked to bite.” I stood up and pulled my knife from its hiding spot. His friend grabbed me and punched me hard in the side of the face. I hit the ground and waited. He leaned over my body, looking at me like a bug to be squashed. Just a little closer, asshole.

“I’m going to hurt you, you little-” His threat was cut off with a wet gurgle as I plunged the blade into his throat. I managed to flip around and gain the upper hand, twisting and yanking the blade out. I was absolutely soaked in blood, barely able to see past it, and Robert was getting up.

Fuck. I hesitated for a split second, torn between running and turning around and gutting Robert. He grabbed the crossbow, which was already loaded from our last encounter. As he picked it up, I spun around and bolted for the trees. I make it into the woods, but not before I hear a low whistle, and something hits me in the left side.

I can’t afford to stop and check. I keep running into the woods back the way we came, praying that I can get far enough away before the adrenaline wears off and I start to feel the object stuck in my side. One of Daryl’s bolts. Branches were whipping across my arms and face, leaving stinging marks. My face and ribs throbbed. But I can’t stop.

My breathing ratcheted up and my heart fluttered like a butterfly. I wasn’t watching my feet and I tripped over a root, breaking my fall into someone’s chest.

Daryl’s POV

Although Daryl could track the steps made by the men, your map of blood ensured he was going the right way. He could feel himself getting closer and his body tensing up for the fight. They would have to kill him to keep you.

A high-pitched scream rang through the trees, quickly cut off. Y/N. Daryl would recognize your voice anywhere.

His heart begged him to pick up the pace and run to help you. You sounded terrified. He forced himself to not outright run, he didn’t want to risk you by charging into the area half-cocked and knowing nothing.

Not long after your scream, a second yell was heard. That was clearly a man, one in pain. Daryl abandoned his plan and began to speed towards the sounds. If both you and a man screamed, you could be getting attacked by walkers. Or another group. Or-

Stop it. Fuckin’ quit. He couldn’t play these scenarios out and stay aware of his surroundings. He had to focus on the present and getting you out of there.

A branch snapped a little to his right and Daryl froze. Something, no someone, was coming his way and it wasn’t trying to be quiet. Whoever it was, they were running for their life.

He slid his two knives from their holsters and brought his hands into a defensive position. There. He can see them now. They were short and feminine. Is that-

You had no idea he was right in front of you. He didn’t have time to call out before you stumbled fell right into his chest.

Daryl’s arm instinctively wrapped around you to break your fall. His chest ached by the force of your impact, but it didn’t matter. It was you.

You fought against his chest, screaming and hitting, trying to break free. A small grunt sounded from the body in front of you.

“Please! Please, let me go, let me-” Your voice cracked as it strained under the stress. Tears ran down your face as you struggled uselessly. Daryl wasn’t letting you go for anything, never again.

“Y/N? Y/N, baby, it’s me. It’s me.” Your struggles died down as your body put a name to the voice, your brain slower to catch up. Whiskey, gasoline, grease. Blood. Ocean-blue eyes.

“D-Daryl?” Your voice sounded so small; he could tell you were scared out of your mind and slow to process. Something terrified you.

He tightened his grip on you and swayed you back and forth. “Yeah Y/N. It’s me.”

A sob wracked through your body. It’s him. He’s okay, he’s alive. The tension drained out of you as you sank into his hold. Your knees gave out and he supported your fall, resting you both on the soft leaves coating the ground.

“He- he tried to-” You couldn’t get the sentence out, but you knew he understood. He always did.

He held you as you cried into his neck. Daryl pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and breathed deeply, needing to ground himself. You smelled the same; cocoa, vanilla, alcohol and something all your own. Blood singed his nose and shocked him back into reality.

He pulled away from the grasp to get a look at your face. You whined and tried to burrow back into him, but he held you by the shoulders. He needed to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“’S okay, just checking ya ain’t hurt. ‘S okay.” It was not okay. Your face was soaked with blood, some of it yours and some of it from the others. There were cuts across your cheeks still weeping blood and a nasty bruise crawling up the right side of your face. Some of the blood was even in your hair. Your shirt was ripped at the collar, exposing (thankfully) bite-less skin, and you had an arm wrapped around your waist as if holding yourself together. His breath stopped at he looked at your torso.

“Y/N.” His voice was quiet and tense, his accent making a more obvious appearance. “The hell ya got a bolt in your side for?”

Oh. That. “He got me when I was gettin’ away, he has your bow. Asshole…” You cursed. Now that you were safe, you could really feel everything. Your eyes started to close. You were exhausted from fighting for your life and he felt like a horrible person for forcing you to stay awake.

“Y/N, darlin’. Need ya awake. Can’t sleep yet.” He lightly patted the non-bruised cheek, making your eyes flutter open. You didn’t look as if you were entirely there. If Daryl had to guess, it was a combination of exhaustion, blood loss, and dissociation.

His blood boiled as he thought about the men who did this to you. He was going to fucking kill them. But he had to patch you up first. He wouldn’t, couldn’t let you out of his sight, not even when he dealt with those men. He thought he would go insane if he couldn’t see or feel you by his side.

Looking down at you, he knew there wasn’t much he could do to help at the moment. He had to keep the arrow in your side until you were back at the prison with Hershel. He quickly stripped his vest and his flannel off. He reached for your waist, but you flinched, and he immediately quit moving. Daryl felt guilty but he took a deep breath. Those assholes tried to force you and you were traumatized. They were the problem, not him.

“’M gonna tie this ‘round your waist, keep tha bolt from movin’. Need ta keep it in so ya don’t bleed out, okay?” His voice was gentle as he waited for your response.

“Mhm. I know you won’ hurt me.” Your words were a bit slurred as you looked up at him. That wasn’t a good sign. You’d lost more blood than he first expected.

As gently as he possibly could, Daryl pulled the flannel around your waist and tight enough to act as a torniquet. You yelped in pain and he wanted to kick himself for hurting you more. No, he wanted to kick those dipshits-

“I got a few more questions, darlin’. Y/N, where are they?” His hands rubbed up and down your arms to keep you awake and to comfort you. Daryl wanted to know where their campsite was. He had a visit to make.

You pointed behind you. “It’s that way, not too far. Only one left’s Robert. Ooh I bet he’s mad.” A tired giggle left your lips. The situation was far from funny, but you couldn’t help it.

“Why’s he mad? Wha’ happened to the other one? Saw the first a’ready.” One hand left your arm and gently rested on your cheek.

You hummed and leaned into Daryl’s touch. “I bit his lip off. He was trying to-. Anyway, the other one’s dead. Got ‘em right here with your knife.” You tapped his jugular softly.

He didn’t know just how proud of you he could be until that moment. He had let you down in the store, but you managed to protect yourself from the worst of it. He didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened if you hadn’t fought back.

“That’s ma girl. I love ya so much.” You looked up and were rewarded with those pretty blue eyes looking back into yours with adoration. You wanted to stay here with him forever, but you knew the situation was time sensitive.

“Let’s go, the camp’s thatta way.” You tried to haul yourself up and almost hit the ground hard. Daryl quickly wrapped an arm around you and supported most of your weight, doing his best to not provoke the bolt still in your side.

The camp wasn’t far at all. Daryl was so close to you, and you had no idea. It would’ve have been a matter of minutes if you hadn’t made your move. But those minutes would have been filled with pain. You were happy he didn’t have to see you like that.

Daryl’s eyes flicked over the dead man’s body and latched onto the sight of Robert with his back to you both. Daryl set you down gently and lifted a finger to his lips in a silent request. You nodded and he crept towards the man at the edge of camp.

Once behind Robert, he purposefully made a noise. Robert spun around and Daryl was lightning fast, nailing him in the face. Robert hit the ground and Daryl was quick to follow. He threw punch after punch, soaking his hands in blood. His ribs burned like hell, but his rage burned brighter.

He pulled back and allowed a moment of reprieve for the time it took to grab one of his knives. Daryl buried the hilt into the man’s shoulder, effectively pinning him. Robert shrieked in pain.

You hated to see the effect this entire day had on Daryl, but you couldn’t help but delight in the attacker’s pain. You wanted to see him bloody and dying. That’s the least he could expect for the damage he caused.

“Promised myself I’d do this when ya’ first laid a hand on her.” Daryl gripped the man’s hand and brutally chopped a finger off. The screams were both nauseating and rewarding. He went on to the next, then the next. Soon the man was left with 6 fingers.

“Shoulda never touched her. Warned ya’, didn’t I?” He grinned animalistically. You’d never seen Daryl so furious, so dangerous. It sparked the smallest amount of fear before you chided yourself. He would never hurt you. These men were asking for it.

“Please, God, please- “Robert begged. He would bleed out soon, but not soon enough to spare himself more pain.

Daryl shook his head. “What’re you and God gonna do?” He mocked. “Nah, ain’t no God out here. Just me and you.”

Something dark curled up in your chest. The lengths this man was willing to go for you…

When Daryl was done, he slit Robert’s throat and watched as he bled out in the dirt. His eyes eventually went dull, and Daryl extracted his blade from his shoulder and wiped them both harshly on the man’s body. He wouldn’t even spare the man from the transformation. No, he could walk the Earth and feast on people. Daryl hoped that there was a part of him alive in there, despite what Jenner said all those months ago.

You watched as Daryl approached and knelt beside you. His hand was pressed to his ribs, which were likely broken. He’d almost forgotten the beating he took. He looked over your body and locked eyes with you.

“Hi, darlin. Are ya ready to go home?”

[chvoswxtch]

personal

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: lately frank has been acting suspicious, and you've decided to finally confront him about it.

warnings: swearing, lots of angst

word count: 3.4k

a/n: i hope y'all have been enjoying things being nice & light & sexy & fun bc these last few chapters aren't holding back any punches. shit is about to get real. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Not even five minutes after Frank walked through the threshold of his apartment, the rumble of an incessant banging sounded on his front door. His dark brows instantly furrowed with irritation at the sound. Slipping his right hand behind his back to grab the handle of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, he turned the knob and swung the door open with just as much ferocity as the person knocking on the other side. 

The creases of annoyance on his sharp features suddenly smoothed into recognition at the sight of you standing in front of him, but not long after, his warm brown eyes widened in complete bewilderment seeing the raw fury that was burning in your eyes. 

“Hey-”

Before he could utter another word, you forced your way inside his apartment, causing him to quickly retreat backwards, wincing when you swiftly slammed the front door shut behind yourself.

“You need to tell me what the fuck is going on with you, right now.”

Frank was utterly caught off guard by your aggressive behavior. The last time he had seen you this angry with him was when he showed up at your place after Cavella and Walker had attacked you. He was so distracted by your incensed entrance, he almost missed what you said. But when his brain finally caught up with his ears, your words only fueled his convoluted confusion.

“There nothin’ goin’ on-”

“Bullshit! Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Frank.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not lyin’-”

“You’ve lied to me three times in the past month.”

Creases of puzzlement settled between Frank’s thick brows hearing that. Had he really lied to you three times? He couldn’t even remember what he’d lied about, or how you caught onto the fact that he was. Frank admittedly had been a bit out of it when it came to you lately, but he wasn’t doing it on purpose to hurt you. He just happened to be caught in the middle of something he was trying to keep you as far away from as possible.

Taking his silence as evidence of guilt, you stared up into his eyes, wanting him to see the proof of grief in your reflection that his actions had caused. You wanted him to hear the severity in the words that lacerated your tongue as they slipped past your lips that had been bitten raw from your tortured anxiety.

“You never once lied to me before Frank, ever. I don’t know why you’re choosing to start now, but if I hear one more lie come out of your mouth, I am done. I will walk out that door and I will have nothing to do with you ever again, that's it. Do you hear me?”

That caught Frank’s attention. There was no waver in your voice, no threat in your tone, just raw emotion and sincerity. 

For the past month, Frank had been acting strange. You’d caught him in three white lies, and while they may have seemed small and trivial to someone else, they were anything but that to you. Because you’d been stuck with a pathological liar before, and there was no such thing as harmless lies. A lie was a lie, and it was a crack in the foundation of trust and integrity that you’d built with Frank, and a crack could turn into a rift, and a rift could divide you and make it all come crumbling down.

Since yours and Frank’s schedules didn’t always line up, you’d both done everything you could to make every moment count since your first date. But lately, it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort. Frank was chronically distracted these last few weeks. He was late to meet you for dates, he didn’t call when he said he was going to, and sometimes you didn’t hear from him at all until the day was practically over. And when he was with you, Frank was physically present, but mentally he seemed to be somewhere you couldn’t follow. Even sitting right beside one another, it felt like there were oceans of distance separating you subconsciously. 

At first, you’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was one little white lie. One missed call after a long day. Just fifteen minutes of waiting at the restaurant. This was Frank, the man who had saved your life more times than you could count. He was different. This was real. You had nothing to be concerned about.

But then one white lie turned to three, and one missed call turned into not hearing from him until an excuse appeared across your screen at half past midnight, and fifteen minutes late turned into not showing up at all. His behavior planted a seed of suspicion in your mind that grew like wild ivy, coveting the sense of security you had in him with leaves of doubt, sprouting spirals of diabolical hypotheticals that canvassed your brain with catastrophe. 

Every knot of faith Frank had woven into your heart with his actions over the last nine months were steadily being unraveled by his own hand in a matter of weeks. The confidence you had in him was now frayed in shreds and left you in a fit of mania, scrutinizing his every intent under a microscope. 

You had been here before. You’d been lied to, manipulated, cheated on, pushed to the brink of insanity, and eventually left behind. You recognized all the signs of duplicity and betrayal, but you’d covered your own eyes so you wouldn’t have to acknowledge them, because it was Frank. 

Blunt-and-brutally-honest, jump-in-front-of-a-bullet, remembers-every-little-detail, got-his-knuckles-bloody-for-you, killed-for-you, Frank.

And that’s why this hurt so much. That’s why this dagger of deceit tore clean right through your chest, leaving you standing in the middle of Frank’s living room, hysterical and furious for an elixir of truth that could make this pain go away and heal your belief in him once again. He’d been so MIA lately that you had spent hours camped out in front of his apartment building tonight, waiting to see his truck pull up just so you could follow him inside and finally have this conversation face to face.

Frank could hear in your voice that he’d hurt you, and even worse, he could see the evidence of it shining in your eyes. The pieces of yourself you’d lent him to patch up his own heart were suddenly bleeding at the seams seeing how his unintentionally selfish preoccupation had left you marooned. Shame didn’t begin to cover the way he felt. He knew he needed to be honest, but he couldn’t tell you everything.

Not yet.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But it ain’t what you think, sweetheart.”

“Then what is it? Explain it to me.”

Frank took a seat on the couch and gently patted the space next to him, looking up at you with diligent patience while you internally debated between standing stubbornly or giving into his request to sit with him. After a moment you finally sat down, but you intentionally put space between the two of you and folded your arms across your chest in a silent gesture of defensiveness. Resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs, Frank clasped his right hand over his left wrist, staring down at his worn boots while deciding his next words carefully.

“I got a new assignment.”

The quiet tone of Frank’s voice and the lack of eye contact while he spoke immediately caused a spark in your nervous system. 

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Frank let a moment of silence pass before turning his head to look at you with an apologetic gleam in his warm brown eyes.

“I’ve been helpin’ Madani with somethin’.”

Pinching at the bridge of your nose, you let out a slow exhale of irritation. Frank had already strained your patience with his behavior this past month, and his obscure responses were only making it worse.

“Why are you being so secretive about this?”

“It’s complicated-”

“Complicated how? You didn’t have to hide the last job from me-”

“This one is different-”

“Different how? That doesn’t make any sense-”

“You gonna let me talk? Or you gonna keep yellin’ at me?”

The way you clenched your jaw and narrowed your gaze at his quip made Frank regret letting his own frustration get the best of him. You were already pissed off, now was not the time for him to snap back at you like he normally did when the two of you argued about something. A wave of annoyance quickly crested within you. The second you stood up from the couch, Frank’s large hand reached out to grab your wrist.

“Hey, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Walk away from this conversation-”

“What conversation, Frank? You’re not doing anything but giving me vague excuses. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

Frank gave your wrist a gentle tug to get you to sit back down next to him on the couch. He once again waited calmly as you stood defiantly for a moment before reluctantly sitting back down. He let his large hand glide across your wrist to take your hand into his own, holding it firmly in his lap while cocking his head to the side to try and catch your gaze.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

When he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, the prolonged pause of silence caused you to eventually shift your attention back to Frank, and you could see that his brown eyes were a deep shade of contrition.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve been distracted lately, and I haven’t been ‘round like I shoulda been. And you’re right, I did lie to ya, and I’m sorry ‘bout that. I’m not tryin’ to keep things from ya, sweetheart. It’s just…this one is…it’s different.” 

“Why? What makes this one so different that you have to lie to me about it?”

“It’s personal.”

Now it was your turn to be perplexed. You thought Frank was long past holding you at arms length and keeping up a fortified impenetrable steel wall around his heart and mind. He’d opened up to you before, talked about his life in the Marines, told you about the family he’d loved and lost, even spoke about them more comfortably and freely now without the shadow of grief looming over his words. Why was he back to shielding his vulnerability?

“Personal?”

Frank knew you wanted more of an explanation. You needed more. And he hated that he couldn’t give it to you right now. He hated that there was still so much that he was holding back from you, and that it was his own fault you were even doubting him in the first place.

“Listen, I can’t explain it right now, alright? But I will. When it’s all said and done, I’m…I’m gonna…I’ll have to tell ya some things first, some things you may not wanna hear and probably won’t like hearin’. But I promise, I’m gonna tell you everythin’, alright? I just need you to trust me right now.”

Every word Frank spoke hid another piece of the puzzle he was crafting, and you were left with misshapen gaps of confusion. You didn’t know what he meant by saying there were things he had to explain that you might not want to hear, or how that factored into the job he was currently working. Nothing he was saying made any sense to you, and it only left you with more crucial questions than justifiable answers. Pulling your hand away from his, you got up from the couch and started to stressfully pace back and forth.

“So the reason you’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately is because of this new assignment, that you can’t tell me anything about, other than it’s personal, but you can’t explain why that is. And it’s going to take you somewhere eventually, but you can’t tell me where, because you don’t even know yet, and even if you did, you still wouldn’t tell me. And I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you have no idea how long this is going to last, but you expect me to sit here and act like everything is fine between us and trust you even though I have no fucking idea where you’re going or what you’re doing. Did I miss anything?”

Frank could hear the barely concealed hostility in your tone. He couldn’t combat a single thing you said. When you finally stopped pacing and turned to face him, staring at him expectantly, a ring of treachery was blazing around your irises. He could see it right then in your eyes. If he didn’t fix this, he would lose you.

Slowly rising from the couch, Frank stood there with a dispirited weight resting on his shoulders, a look of pleading softening his warm brown eyes. 

“I’m gonna handle this as soon as I can, I promise.”

“I can’t do another month of this, Frank.”

“Then it won’t be another month. I’ll figure it out before then.”

“How?”

The resentment you felt towards Frank was rapidly fading into pure desperation. All you wanted was an answer, a real answer. Something of substance that you could understand, something tangible to hold onto during this period of uncertainty. Frank could feel the despair radiating off of you in thick sorrowful waves, and the fact that you were close to forfeiting this argument had him instantly tensing as the chill of dread straightened his spine. He had to give you something.

“Listen, Madani gave me some intel, alright? I’ve been followin’ it, tryin’ to find proof she’s right, or if she’s just seein’ what she wants to see.”

“But why did she give it to you? What can you do that Homeland Security can’t?”

Frank stared at you silently for a moment, and you could see a look of hesitation flash in his eyes. There was something there, something you couldn’t figure out. But you could tell by the expression on his face that there was a lot more to this than it being a top secret assignment from Homeland. Whatever it was, it had everything to do with Frank. You just couldn’t figure out why. After a terse minute of silence, Frank stood up a little straighter while subtly clenching his jaw, and there was a hardened look in his eyes.

“Cause it’s connected to someone I know.”

The way he spoke that sentence with an ominous undertone sent an icy torrent down your spine. Sensing your trepidation, Frank let out a deep sigh and glanced around his apartment for a moment while lost in thought before eventually looking at you again, this time with a softer gaze.

“Look, I can’t explain it all right now, sweetheart. All I can tell ya is that Madani needed someone she could trust on this, and I owe her a debt.”

Letting those words sink in, you tried to put your biased emotions aside for a moment and think logically about what Frank was saying. Dinah had asked him for a favor. Part of you found it  surprising that she came to Frank and Billy, considering the way she acted towards Billy the day Steven was arrested. But maybe that look of distrust and disdain had everything to do with the complicated relationship they’d had that Billy mentioned. 

If Frank was working for Dinah, then he was working for Homeland, which meant he probably didn’t have a choice but to keep everything from you. And yet, here he was still trying to give you crumbs of explanations, and promising to tell you everything once this new assignment was over. At least you could lay the fear to rest that he was seeing someone else. Standing here now, you felt ridiculous that you’d restlessly jumped to the conclusion of an illicit affair. But in your own defense, it had been difficult to think clearly when Frank’s covert behavior mirrored that of past boyfriends' unfaithful performances.

As your shoulders physically deflated from your own conspiracies unraveling just to get tangled in a new set of ambiguities, you let out a deep exhale and rubbed both of your palms tiredly down your face, grasping onto the back of your neck for a moment. When you first showed up at Frank’s apartment, you had felt completely warranted in your anger. Now, you weren’t sure if you had overreacted in your manic state, or if you still had a right to be upset with Frank. At this point, you just felt drained from trying to balance on that tightrope of your own conflicting emotions.

Frank had saved your life several times over, and Dinah personally made sure that Steven would spend the rest of his life in prison. You owed them both everything. The least you could do was show them a little patience. 

“Alright. Fine.”

In the nine months that Frank had known you, never once had you conceded in an argument. Even when you were in the wrong, you struggled with admitting that you had been erroneous. Frank’s blood ran cold with the thought that he might have pushed you too far healing the casual defeat in your voice. He didn’t want you to give up on him like this. Frank quickly took a step towards you the second you took a step towards the door, reaching out to gently grab your arm.

“Hey, hey c’mon. Don’t go.”

“Frank, I’m tired-”

“Then stay. Just stay here, c’mon. It’s late, yeah? Stay.”

Frank wasn’t giving you any room to decline the offer disguised as a command. One of his strong arms slipped around your waist, pulling you firmly into his chest while his large hand gently cradled the back of your head. He pressed his lips in a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, hugging onto you tightly while resting his cheek against the side of your head. The rigid tension in your body lethargically began to melt, and Frank’s deep gravelly voice whispering into your ear dismantled the last of your defensiveness.

“Just stay with me, baby. Please stay.”

Frank knew that he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t feel that he’d earned this second chance at life he was getting. But he would be damned if he’d let anything ruin this now that he had you. He would’ve told Madani to go to hell if he’d known the favor was going to cause such a big disruption to the peace he’d found within you.

But not only did he owe his second shot to her, he desperately needed to know the truth himself.

“When will you leave?”

Frank hugged onto you even tighter, rubbing his hand along your lower back in soothing slow circles.

“M’not sure yet. But I’ll tell ya as soon as I know, I promise. And I’ll make sure you’re taken care of while I’m gone, yeah? I’ll be back before ya know it, baby.”

Hearing the soft sigh that sounded from you, Frank nuzzled his nose into your hair and whispered gently to you.

“Listen, I won’t take no more jobs like this, alright? I’m gonna handle this for Madani, and that’s it. I won’t do anythin’ else that’ll take me too far from you, yeah? I’m not gonna leave ya, sweetheart. I told ya I’m always gonna be here. I meant that then, and I mean it now. You ain’t ever gotta worry ‘bout that.”

You tried to find comfort in those words, but you weren’t in the mental state to accept any vows. You couldn’t get past the glaring truth that Frank was hiding something from you, and until you knew what it was, that crack of dishonesty would continue to slowly spread. You had a sneaking suspicion in the pit of your stomach that whatever verity Frank was concealing had the potential to shatter everything; unveiling the illusion that your relationship hadn’t been formed out of the impervious stone that you’d believed in, but rather of futile glass.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[hotluncheddie]

for @steddie-spooktober day 4 prompt : corn maze

rated: T | cw: hospitals | tags: post s4, getting together

🌽 🌽 🌽 🌽

Eddie wakes up blurry eyed and disorientated in his now very familiar hospital bed. He spend the end of spring dead to the world, in and out of induced comas while they reconstructed his skin, the multiple processes too painful for him to be awake for. Followed was a summer of twilight and half wakefulness. Barely sentient between medicines and sponge baths and too many doctors telling him too many things.

Sometimes he’s wake up with the phantom feeling of his hand being held. Often he'd wake up with Wayne dozing on the little plastic chair beside him.

And maybe a little more often than sometimes, Eddie would wake up with Steve Harrington by his bedside. First shepherding Dustin, then bracketing Eddie’s new favourite midwestern queer Robin Buckley. Then just, Steve. Reading car magazines and folding the corners of pages he thinks Eddie might like. Or filling endless water cups, and scavenging snack in from vending machines. Or, just, staring into space.

Steve always seemed to just be there.

And Eddie was afraid to admit, even to himself, how much he liked that.

Now autumn was finally here, just starting to turn the leaves outside his window. His time awake slowly overtaking his time asleep, finally. And Steve is still there. Most days. Many days.

And at some point Eddie had started reaching for that phantom hand holding his, but in real life. Confirmed secretly by Robin that Steve was in fact there doing so while Eddie was out of it. (Gripped with a needless sense of protection and guilt over getting Eddie to the hospital in the state he did. Carried out of hell in Steve’s strong hands. Though safe, heavily injured, and Steve seemed to take that upon his own shoulders.) But Eddie only wanted those hand to support him again, wanted to find a way to thank him with words he didn’t possess. Wanted anything Steve would give him as his feelings blossomed into something he was still too scared to really look at.

But he could hold Steve’s hand. Only just allowed to push himself on a walker to the bathroom. Only just able to sit up and eat without biting his lip in pain, stopping half way to lay prone again.

He can, could, does, and doesn’t want to stop, holding Steve’s hand. And Steve gives that willingly.

But still, Eddie wakes up in his bed disoriented. Not by the bed, or the room, or even by Steve who stands beside him.

No, Eddie’s disoriented by the two items Steve has just deposited on his little table.

Steve standing by, arms crossed and hip cocked like this is English class and he needs to be ready to detach or say something snarky if his idea gets called stupid. It tugs on Eddie’s heartstrings. Eddie blinks, clears his head.

‘Corn maze.’ Steve says. Thinly veiled in his dismissal. Achingly honest in his mask.

Eddie looks at his little hospital table. A bowl of hot corn, steaming and shining with the butter melting through it, plastic spoon standing straight up amongst the kernels. And a box of Candy Land, old, with the corners taped together, well used, well loved.

‘I love corn mazes.’ Eddie says, quietly because he just woke up from another damn nap. And it’s autumn. And Steve Harrington is everything and nothing like what Eddie ever could’ve hoped for.

Steve softens. Visibly. Eddie watches it happen. His shoulders untense and his face smooths out into the sweet glowing thing of a boy who cares too much, who loves so hard he leave claw marks on everything.

Eddie wants Steve’s claws. Eddie wants them attached to the bone. But Eddie’s doesn’t want to give Steve the space to scratch. Eddie wants him close. Eddie wants him always.

‘Next autumn we’ll go for real, deal?’ Steve says.

Eddie nods, heart in his throat, rib cage exposed, heart beating for Steve Harrington and Steve Harrington alone.

He eats a bite of corn.

They travel through a candy maze.

Eddie Munson holds Steve Harrington’s hand.

🌽 🌽 🌽 🌽

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