#I know it's a scary time and I wanted to give everyone something to smile about

[dolcekissy]

i love your work, and I was hoping / wanted to request something based off a song, i dont kno if you have heard it, but i follow someone, jus heard it and it reminded me so so so much of Rafe and having a tumultuous and borderline abusive relationship. it’s by the singer ashanti called rain on me the music video and song remind me of rafe to a T. would yoube comfortable writing a Drabble or One Shot based or similar to it? if not, it’s okay, i know DV is serious and not everyone would want to write about it. thank you!

yes i've heard of the song and watched the video, i can definitely see what you're saying. hope you enjoy!

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes unprotected sex, p in v, domestic violence, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of having a miscarriage. please read at your own risk.

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for the past four years it's been the same with rafe. arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you met rafe six years ago, immediately feeling drawn to him and his voice, the way he spoke with confidence but also nervousness, the eye contact he tried to keep with you, the way he wasn't touchy ─ very respectful of you and your boundaries. you remember the interaction like it was yesterday, the way your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink when he joked with you ─ meeting when you were both 16 at an event his father put together for Cameron Development.

the whole night you two were inseparable, laughing and talking, sneaking alcoholic drinks when no one was looking, stealing a cigarette from behind a drunk man's ear after he dared you to ─ giggling and running up to the roof of the building to smoke it together, coughing and choking while he laughed at you and patted your back. he kissed you when you were staring up at the sky claiming the cigarette gave you a buzz, your head was dizzy from both the cigarette and his lips ─ his lips were so soft.

you and rafe couldn't be apart. always with each other, at each others houses meeting family, sneaking out of your house just to see him even though you guys hung out all day, walking to the beach just to kiss, talk, laugh, staying until the sun kissed the water ─ hurriedly running back once your phone read 7 am. he was in love and so were you, you were his other half, his missing rib. he promised to marry you as soon as you both turned 18, get you a house in tannyhill, give you a baby right after. it was unrealistic but 16 year old you couldn't help but have hearts in her eyes.

he was your first everything. your first time, your first kiss, the first person you loved. the night he took your virginity you both were shaking, sweating, nervous ─ you felt so awkward, so stiff as you both tried to figure it out. he talked you through the pain, kissing you sweetly as he whispered apologies, shakily asking if you're okay or if he should stop, telling you how much he loves you ─ kissing the tears of pain that rolled down your face, moving the hair that stuck to your forehead.

obviously it wasn't the best sex, young and inexperienced, painful and scary, foreign and different but it was with him. with rafe. the person that made life worth living. the next two years were heaven on earth, the memories you created with him were sacred, every minute you spent with him giving you understanding of your purpose here on earth ─ marry him, give him as many babies as he wants, keep the house clean, be a good wife.

it was good, he was good, always knew how to kiss it better so you didn't question it when he slapped you after a disagreement ─ quickly apologizing and kissing your cheek over and over again as you blinked, brushing it off with a shrug and a smile, "it was an accident, right?" ─ fingers tugging on his hair as he ate you out that night to show you how sorry he was, later on stuffing you full of his cock so you understand how sorry he was.

that's when the cycle began, arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you hate yourself for not running when you were 18 and he slapped you for the first time, hate him for manipulating you into believing him, hate yourself for running down to the courthouse and getting married anyway ─ the longer you stayed with him, the worse it got. you'd argue about something stupid, he'd hit you, apologize, fuck you, then stay between your thighs until you begged him to stop.

you hate yourself for still loving him after it all ─ allowing him to make you feel like this, losing weight rapidly, your hair falling out in clumps, barely eating and drinking, depending on his mood to determine the kind of day you have ─ constantly terrified it'll get bad again, flinching every time the front door opens, greeting him with a weary smile, voice soft just in case he's in a bad mood today ─ just in case his attitude is sour enough to beat you and leave you for a few days, just to come home four days later smelling like another woman and fuck you slowly, "make love to ya.", "put a baby in ya." just so you understand how much he loves you, even if he "slaps you up." a couple of times.

it was suffocating, debilitating, humiliating but you loved him. no one would understand, no one would understand how much you miss the old him ─ they wouldn't understand that you stay with him just in case the old him might come back to you, love you as deeply as he loved you before. so yes, you'll hide the bruises and the cuts on your face and body. yes, you'll wear sunglasses to hide the black eyes. yes, you'll lie to the nurses when they ask why there's a gash on your wrist. yes, you will fucking lie and say that you lost your fucking baby due to complications and not him beating you.

yes, you'll show up no matter what to the Cameron Development events and show off the rock on your finger, flash a bright smile, place your arm over his chest while you look up at him with the same eyes he fell in love with. the same eyes that are freshly healed after his last beating.

the same eyes that will be black and blue again tonight because you were too close to a man over by the bar.

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[spotsandsocks]

Seven or something like that sentence Sunday 🌳🏡🌳

Tagged by @monsterrae1 @tizniz @daffi-990 with fun bits of talent

Evan with a B progresses but you know when you’ve done a big chunk of something and you’re like…. Hmmmm not sure should I keep it in? well that’s what’s happening here, dance practice is not going well… for them or me 😂

In this bit everyone gets to be jealous as a treat. Btw they’re just dancing together no one is with anyone but feelings are stirring…

He and Taylor are in the same group as Anna and Eddie, moving in time with the music in a small circle. A lot of looks are being exchanged and Buck’s more than a little confused by the tension.

In Buck’s opinion the girls are a little bit scary up close like this, the polite smiles and eye contact between them is slightly alarming.

Another few steps are taken and Ana glances across at Taylor and gives her a compliment which Buck thinks is probably quite nice of her.

“Why Taylor, I never would have guessed you could dance so nicely, I imagine here in the countryside you’re considered quite good.”

His own dance partner smiles at Eddie’s and Buck is very glad this particular smile isn’t directed at him. He looks across at his best friend whose face is extremely blank even if his eyes are a bit wide.

“Why thank you Ana.” Taylor sounds… oddly sweet, it’s not like her usual voice at all.

“It's just natural talent. I can’t imagine how many lessons you must have had to have to dance so well. How lucky that your Father could afford them for you.”

They complete another set of the moves for this part of the dance and neither of the girls are paying any attention to their partners now.

“Papa is so generous, he insists I keep up with the most modern fashions from Paris and London, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but sometimes I wish I had some simple homemade dresses like yours so it wouldn’t matter if I got them dirty or torn. You’re so lucky to have dresses that you can do ordinary things in.“

there’s more shenanigans in this scene but nothing really dramatic Taylor kinda gets what’s going on might even want to help and Ana well she’s just there mildly annoying Buck for some reason he’s not sure why. … It may make the cut it may not. We shall see.

Tagging @actualalligator @bekkachaos @buddiediaz118 @bi-buckrights @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @giddyupbuck @hippolotamus @inell @lonelychicago @repressedqueen @ronordmann @stagefoureddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @shipperqueen6 @thekristen999 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @thelikesofus @thelovewehad @theotherbuckley @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to.

[timeagainreviews]

Oh River...

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[tinysunshine]

━━━ ✧˖° 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍

‎ ‎ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: protective daryl, reader is extremely girly and feminine, fingering, very light dom/sub, fucking on a motorcycle, daryl sucks his fingers, pet names, oral sex, cum swallowing, slightly rough sex, some dirty talk, true love

warnings and triggers: age difference, reader is a former sex worker, trauma bonding, violence, death, slut shaming, bullying

word count: 13.4k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

you’re known as the princess of your group - soft, feminine, a girly girl who doesn’t want to get her hands dirty. despite the cruel new world you’re living in, you still hold on to whatever remnants of beauty you can find, hoping for a better tomorrow.

daryl is the opposite of everything you stand for. he’s hardened, rugged, ruthless - he’ll do whatever it takes to survive. despite your differences, you find yourselves drawn to each other in ways nobody, not even you two, can really understand. you bring softness to his strength, and in daryl you find a friend, a lover, a protector.

he’s everything you find warm and safe in this cold, scary world. you cling to him, and the best part?

daryl clings back.

“Cookies?”

The look Daryl gives you actually makes you crack a smile, and it’s a nice feeling. It’s been a long time since you smiled, now that you think about it - but it’s not like you’re keeping score. 

Because if you were - you’d probably be able to count the amount of grins that’ve graced your face in the last eight months on one hand. Life has been brutal to everyone this year.

“I know it sounds weird,” you explain, crossing your legs on the rock you’re sitting on. Daryl’s supposed to be keeping watch of the camp while Rick and a few other men from the group make a run into the neighboring town for supplies. The plan was, because even the smallest things need well thought out plans in this world, that the women and children of the camp would rest, and if Daryl saw any walkers, he’d wake everyone up. 

Sort of dumb, in theory, with how fast things happen when walkers are added to the equation, but it’s all this group has got. 

Plans and Rick’s hope. 

You’re supposed to be resting too, since yesterday was a travel day - long and exhausting. But you can’t sleep. You’ve got a headache, you’re hungry, and your sleeping bag is still a little damp from your water bottle, the plastic gone thin from having been dropped too many times, breaking while you drove from your last destination. Your tent is cold and you’re sharing it with a single woman who has a child, and their crying is really starting to bum you out. 

So you decided to join Daryl keeping watch. He’s perched on a little ledge that overlooks the rest of the camp, able to see anything coming or going before anyone on the ground can. You’re not great with a gun, but since the world went to shit, you can handle yourself pretty well.

You want to help protect the camp and everyone in it, especially since you asked Rick to pick up another reusable water bottle for you while he was in town. The look on his face was so priceless it actually made you a little sad. 

“Doesn’t just sound weird,” Daryl replies, shifting to get more comfortable on the grassy ground. There’s another rock for him to sit on, but it’s something you’ve noticed about him - Daryl always chooses to sit close to the ground, even if there’s a proper place for him to sit. “It is weird,” he grumbles the last part, busying himself with chucking a rock a few feet away while a squirrel scampers up a tree. He curses under his breath, no doubt pissed at himself for not securing another meal. 

You’re distracting him. You should feel bad, but you don’t. 

Before walkers and the end of the world as you knew it, you used to be so concerned with manners. Worried about what others thought about you more than you worried about your own well being. You’re not like that anymore. It’s a dark, although funny thought - that it took something as drastic as an apocalypse to finally rid you of your people pleasing habit. 

There’s a crunching sound a few yards away that has the both of you tensing up, frozen while you listen for the sound of growling, but it never comes. Daryl visibly relaxes after a minute, which is your cue to start talking again. He just listens, although from the angle you’re sitting at, you swear you see him roll his eyes. 

“You ever think about how weird it is, the stuff we miss?” You ask, but you already know he’s not going to reply. Daryl rarely replies, but you know he’s listening. You don’t have any real proof that he is - but what else would he be doing while you chat his ear off? He can stand up for himself, doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do - if he didn’t want you talking to him, he’d tell you to fuck off. 

It’s a small victory you hold close to your heart - the fact that he just puts up with you. You continue. “I mean, everyone always says they miss things like hot showers, electricity, or whatever. I do, but I guess it’s not the thing I miss the most. For me, it’s cookies. But not bakery cookies. The kind of cookies you get from the store, the cheap ones. When you flatten the cookie dough yourself, and no matter what, always burn them or undercook them,” as you talk about it, you can taste the ghost of cookies past on your tongue. It waters a little, your mouth, which goes to show you just how hungry you are. 

All you eat these days are protein bars and uncooked cans of whatever food the group can find. Sometimes, with your eyes closed and your breath held, you’ll try bits of squirrel or owl or whatever other animal Daryl hunts and shares with the group, but even the thought makes you nauseated. You never knew you’d be able to have preferences when the other choice is starving to death, but the difficult human spirit prevails, you suppose. 

Daryl glances at you, and although it’s pretty dark, the moon shines light enough that you can see his expression. You’d expect his face to be mean, aggravated - tired. Listening to a young woman ramble about baking cookies while his body is on high alert to protect an entire fucking camp - but instead, Daryl’s expression is soft. He lets you continue, although his reaction does remind you that you’re also on guard. But aren’t you always?

The gun strapped to your hip and the knife in the pocket of your boot feel extra heavy at the reminder. 

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice low. God forbid a fucking walker kills you or anyone else in this group because you couldn’t shut up about cookies. 

“Maybe it’s stupid, you know? I just,” you look down, playing with the zipper on your jacket. Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed. On the spot. Daryl probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. Your face heats up. 

But it’s not just the cookies. You leave out the part where the cookies remind you of your parents. How your mom, when she was alive, used to make them for you after a rough day. That those cookies were the staple of every sleepover you’ve ever had with your best friends. How those cookies were -

“It ain’t,” Daryl’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him, brows furrowed. You catch his eyes for only a second, before he looks away quickly, pretending to be occupied by something on the dirty ground. “It ain’t stupid,” he finishes. 

You wonder that night, after Rick and the others come back to relieve you and Daryl of your duty, while you’re laid up in your sleeping bag that hardly protects you from the cold - what does Daryl miss? Sure, out of everyone in the group, he’s most equipped at living this kind of life. Knows how to hunt, can stomach raw fucking meat, isn’t scared of anything, or so he says. What reminds him of home? What thoughts comfort him?

Surely, whatever those thoughts are, they’re not as dumb as store bought cookie dough. 

But what Daryl said stuck with you. Not stupid. You fall asleep, albeit with one eye open, feeling a little less cold. 

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

“Gross,” you mutter, blood slashing on your face. You just shot a walker in the head, and your ears are ringing from the loud noise of the gun. You’ll never get used to firing that thing. How loud it is, the way your hand shakes even minutes after you pull the trigger.

Daryl comes from behind you, and he lets out a laugh. It’s low, short - if you weren’t trained to hear the noise, you’d miss it. Because really - it’s like you’ve literally trained yourself to look for little cues that Daryl is having a good time. Or, since you doubt anyone these days is having a good time, at least that he’s alright. That he’s not annoyed at you for hanging around him or talking to him or irritated at your presence in general. 

“Blood on your face grosses you out, but you’ll pick through walker guts for a bottle of nail polish,” he shakes his head, but it's not like he’s judging. In fact, Daryl actually seems a little…fond? He’s teasing you, and normally the reputation you have in this group as a girl that’s afraid to get her hands dirty, too girly to do anything for yourself - it stings. 

But not when it comes from Daryl. You can tell he’s teasing, and you roll your eyes playfully. 

“Didn’t dig in walker guts for that nail polish,” you remind him, even as he walks past you to lead the way. You glance at his back, the angel wings on his leather vest, and will yourself to stop the heat rushing to your face and the arousal pooling in your belly at how fucking strong he is. Big arms, muscles that look like he should be on the cover of a body building magazine instead of in these creepy woods with a crossbow. You gulp. “There was a little blood in the nail polish section when we did a run the other day. I cleaned it off the bottle I wanted. No biggie.”

Daryl scoffs, and you smile. “Yer crazy, girl,” he replies, and at that you look down at your nails. Baby pink, the same color you always used to choose when you’d get your nails done back at home. You could shiver with pleasure, just from thinking about the feeling of warm water on your hands, someone paying special attention to your cuticles - lotion, that you don't have to share with every other woman at the camp. The polish you’re wearing, painted just two days ago, is chipped and stained red with walker blood, but it’s better than nothing. 

Makes you feel a little more human. A little more like a woman. A little more like yourself.

Now, if only you could find some hairspray and a razor. 

You’ve been joining Daryl whenever he lets you - or, more truthfully, whenever Rick tells Daryl it’s okay for you to join him. Rick still doesn’t believe that you know what you’re doing, thinks of you as a liability, but you’re determined to prove yourself. You got to go on a run the other day, and today, Daryl went to check out the perimeter of the grassy hill the group is currently camping in, and you volunteered to go with him. 

“You sure?” Rick had asked when the plan was originally made, looking at Daryl with squinted eyes. He pretended like you didn’t exist, even as you were standing right next to him. Daryl nodded. “S’okay with me. I’ll look out for her. Bring yer gun,” he told you, and you nodded, skipping after him down the trail. 

Around Daryl, and maybe this is why you like him so much - it’s easy to feel like a woman. Easy to feel safe, too. Daryl just knows what he’s doing, and he’s so strong, big, can handle so much. Being around him feels good, but you know it’s all just a farce. 

You’re not safe and neither is Daryl, a fact that becomes even clearer when you almost trip on a dead body by a stream you’re both passing on the way back to camp, alerting a walker that was only a few yards away. Daryl was able to kill him with an arrow, but it was a close call. 

One minute, laughing and talking. The next, like you’re begging death to open the door after ringing his doorbell a few too many times. 

You walk back to camp in silence, walker blood splattered on the both of you. When you get back, it’s nearly dark, and you help a few of the other women finish some laundry and keep an eye on a few restless kids. Life sucks in this world as an adult - but you can’t imagine living like this as a kid. Although, you think, watching them throw dirt at each other and believe the food their mothers are giving them really tastes just like chicken nuggets, maybe being so clueless is for the best. 

After dinner, on your way to your tent, you see Rick and Daryl talking. You try to listen in, pretending that you’re just getting your sleeping bag ready for bed, but you don’t hear anything of importance. Meaning, you don’t hear either of them bring up your name. You feel like a highschooler, desperate for friends, eager to belong - hoping your crush notices you. 

Because that’s what this is with Daryl, isn’t it? You’ve got a crush on him. Butterflies, wanting his attention, looking for excuses to be around him. It’s pathetic but a little beautiful, you admit - that even in a situation like this, where death surrounds every person, no matter who they are - there’s room in the human spirit for a little love. 

A crush, you think again, fixing your nails in your tent. You can almost convince yourself that life isn’t so horrible, just for a minute, until the woman you share your tent with comes in for bed and complains that the smell of the polish is too strong and makes it hard for her to sleep. 

Okay, bitch, you say in your head. It’s not like the walker guts and dead bodies beyond our tent smell any better. You bite your tongue and walk out of the tent, making your way to the empty clearing a little ways away from the tents. It’s so quiet, there’s no way you wouldn’t hear a walker if one was to come around you, but you have a knife on you just in case. No gun, since the noise would just draw more to you. 

You think these things through. You just wish Rick, and the rest of the group, would see that too. 

It’s dark, except for the moon and the stars shining pretty above you. Maybe the little fact you read online years ago about the environment is true - people are the cause of everything bad and all the pollution. A little more than half a year into the apocalypse, and there’s no smog clogging up the skies. It’s a gorgeous night. 

You sit with your hands flat on the ground, waiting for your nails to dry. You get a good few minutes of silence, until the noise of footsteps has you nearly jumping out of your boots, reaching for your knife, only to realize that it’s not a walker, but Daryl coming to plop down next to you.  

“Gosh, Daryl. You scared me,” you complain, letting out a whine. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to you on the ground, although he moves so his back is facing your back. Makes sense, so you're both safe from all angles. Daryl always thinks about little things like that. 

He’s quiet for long enough that you start to think of something to fill the silence. “Damnit,” you mutter, letting out a huff. “I ruined my nails.”

“Oh, quit it,” Daryl replies. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yerself? You got a death wish, girl?” You’re mortified that Daryl is scolding you like you’re a kid, like you’re an idiot, and coming from him it just hurts even more. 

You’ve always had an even temper, but in this new world, you lose it more often than you used to. It’s probably just the way life is now - the stress, the hunger, the cold and the dirt and the sweat and the lack of anything that used to bring anyone joy. It makes everyone crazy. 

“Yeah, well - ‘m sure your buddy Rick hopes a walker gets to me. Know he was talking shit about me earlier.” You sniffle, but you’re not crying yet - it just really hurts, that you feel like such dead weight at this camp. You’ve never really been insecure, but you feel like nobody likes you. Nobody understands you. And yeah, surviving is more important than being miss popular with a group of people in the apocalypse, but everyone’s always talking about this group being family. Does that include you? It doesn’t feel like it these days. 

Daryl is silent, as you expected. Normally you don’t mind the company, even if it’s a mute one, but tonight you’re feeling on edge. Until Daryl speaks. “Rick ain’t my friend. No one wants you to die, kid. Yer too much,” he mutters, and then you stand up, aggravated and not wanting to take it out on him. 

You begin to walk away when Daryl reaches out and grabs your ankle to stop you. “Daryl,” you warn, as if you’d do anything to retaliate even if he pulled you on the ground with him. But you keep up the hard ass attitude - it feels good, you admit, being difficult for once. You don’t get to be anything but accommodating at camp. 

“Rick and I were sayin’ how valuable you are to the group. How much you’ve grown,” he explains, and you roll your eyes, make a show of stomping away, knowing, loving that Daryl is right on your heels. Because there’s no reason for him to stay in that clearing - he’s not on watch tonight. He was only hanging around there for you. 

Despite acting like Rick’s comment meant nothing to you, on the inside, as you walk to your tent, you fight a smile. So Rick has noticed your effort. That’s all you wanted, except - 

You realize that maybe approval you wanted so badly never needed to come from Rick - 

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

Daryl fixes you with a look that makes you burst out laughing. 

You’ve only been at this spot in the woods for a few weeks, but so far, quality of life among the camp has improved. Almost a year in this new world, and this is the first time anyone’s ever slept with both eyes closed since before people turned into the living dead. There’s a river nearby perfect for fishing, and tonight at the campfire, you had your first taste of - what did Daryl call it?

Sushi.

“Just so you know,” you say, crossing a leg over the other on the little log you’re sitting on. The sun is going down, and the sky is a pretty shade of pink and even a little purple. You wonder if nature has always been this beautiful - you’d always just been too preoccupied to see it. You put a tiny piece of the fish Daryl caught and cooked into your mouth, surprised at the taste. You don’t have to fake your reaction. It’s not bad at all - but you wouldn’t necessarily say it’s good. Tastes better than another can of old spaghetti rings though, that’s for sure. 

Still, you can’t help teasing. You finish your original statement. “Sushi tastes much better than this.”

Daryl smiles, just slightly. And not the fake kind of smile he does when he’s just trying to be polite. Like when an elderly man from the group tells a joke no one else laughs at, or when the strap of your last bra broke and you started crying until Rick promised, cheeks red, that he’d look for your size on the next run.

Right now, it seems like Daryl’s actually having a good time. 

The thought makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you tell Daryl, and you swear you see him blush. “It's better than sushi, really.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, nodding. He’s grown uncomfortable with the compliments already. “It’s the best yer gonna get.” Others from the group join you around the campfire, and then Daryl takes off, but not before giving you one last lingering gaze. He has small eyes, you’ve noticed - a little hooded, but so beautiful. He’s incredibly handsome, in a unique way. A pretty, no, beautiful man. His stare burns you, warms you up even with the chill in the air.

It’s only later, when the rest of the group clears off and you and Daryl are alone again, that he speaks. He’s sharpening a knife, leaning on the side of a camper van for support, and you’re at a makeshift sink (bucket) washing the dishes. It was your least favorite chore before this new world, and it’s still your least favorite after. 

But, if you let your mind go there - something about the dynamic between Daryl cooking dinner and you cleaning the dishes up has you - 

No. You’ve got to stop acting so juvenile. 

On one hand, this little crush you have on Daryl is something positive that gets you through the day. Waiting to talk to him, excited to be around him - it shines light on a dark, terrible reality. On the other hand, getting attached to anyone at this camp is a bad idea. You just lost someone else a few days ago. 

The reality, that death really is lurking everywhere - that something could happen to you, or Daryl…it makes your palms sweat and your breathing become erratic. The reality of this new world is just so scary and cruel.

You’re done with the dishes and you dry your hands on an old flannel that the camp uses as a dish towel. You feel Daryl watching you, and you like it. 

“What are you looking at?” You tease, pushing some hair away from your face. “There a walker behind me or something? 

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t look at no walker like that,” he grumbles, but then he must realize what he said - what it really means. You’re so excited you’re almost vibrating, wondering, realizing now - that maybe this crush isn’t one sided. But you still try to play it cool, even as Daryl shakes his head, says, “Wasn’t lookin’ at nuthin.’”

You don’t know what to say to that. You begin to walk away, excited to spend the rest of the night in your tent going over this interaction until you fall asleep, but what Daryl says next stops you in your tracks. You freeze.

“Gotta get you a bra on the nex’ run,” he says, and your knees feel weak. “Those things almos’ poked me in the eye. You cold or sumthin’?’”

You fast walk to your tent, nearly crying from embarrassment - but your entire body is dizzy with excitement. It’s adrenaline, but not the same kind you get when you’re running or kill a walker and make it out alive - a different kind, one you haven’t felt since maybe even before the walkers. It lights you up inside, makes it hard to breathe - and the funniest part?

Daryl has no idea your nipples are hard because you’re aroused - all from watching him sharpen a knife. What can you say? A man who can handle a weapon like that can surely handle…other things.

────

The fire crackles as you sit back, the warmth from the flames doing little to ease the chill in your bones. It’s freezing outside, but you’re under a warm blanket, and if you delude yourself enough you can almost convince yourself that this is just a toasty evening with friends and not a risky fire that could very well lead walkers directly to the camp.

But there’s nothing the group can do - it’s simply too cold to go without a fire tonight. Even Daryl, king of having his arms always showing, is in a jacket tonight. Which sucks, because you really love looking at his arms…but this is survival.

There’s hushed conversation while Rick tells a story, a few pairs to the side chattering, and you feel left out until you notice that Daryl isn’t talking to anyone either. He’s just looking at the ground, then the fire, gaze flickering to you every few minutes. 

And you only notice that because your eyes can’t stay off of him. You can’t help it - it’s like you’re always looking for him. There’s something about that man, as dumb as it sounds, that makes him feel like your own security blanket. Even seeing him from across the camp, just a glimpse, can settle your nerves like nothing else. 

Suddenly, a voice from next to you tries to get your attention. It’s Derek, a decent looking guy about your age - but he’s pretty useless, as far as skills go. He accompanies the rest of the men for runs into town, can kill a walker if necessary, but he’s selfish and all about himself. Won’t even take watch at night, says it interferes with his sleep. You can’t stand him. 

You try to avoid his gaze and pretend to be busy, picking at your cuticles and hoping he leaves you alone, but no such luck. 

“Look at you, princess,” he teases, and you cringe so hard you wonder if it’s visible. It’s embarrassing, being referred to like that - so what, that you like the color pink and happen to be attractive? You’re not hurting anyone. The clothes you’re wearing, the pink clips you have to hold your hair back, the floral printed pillow case - those were all things you had before the world went to shit. 

You didn’t know the apocalypse had a dress code. 

You’re sick of being teased. Of being reduced to this overly feminine character - as if you don’t keep watch just as much as the men. As if you don’t kill walkers when they get close to the camp, while the other women hide. As if you don’t cook, and clean, and - 

Derek is still talking.

You sneak a glance across the campfire at Daryl, who holds your gaze for a minute before dropping it. You look back down too, play with your fingers on your lap. You’d go to your tent right now if you weren’t scared about the safety of falling asleep with no one actively on watch. 

“So, what’d you all do before this?” Derek asks, leaning forward. He’s asking the group, but he’s looking at you, which means - you’re supposed to go first?

You wonder if this has anything to do with what you told Cindy, someone you used to share a tent with before she found room in another one. There’s not much to do these days when you’re not cooking or cleaning or hunting or moving - lots of time to sit and talk. The apocalypse is so much more boring than you ever anticipated. You shared a lot about your past with her, but surely she wouldn’t gossip about you to the others in the camp?

You thought girl code was still a thing, even in these trying times. 

Everyone is silent, waiting for your answer. Even Daryl and Rick seem interested, which makes you feel even worse. You wanted to fit in, not be the center of attention.

You shift uncomfortably, before clearing your throat. You can feel Cindy’s eyes on you, sitting just a few people down. “Nothing special. Just,” you pause and shrug, unsure of what to say. “Whatever I had to. To survive.” 

Back then, surviving was all about money, and ever since your parents died when you were a teenager, money is the one thing you never had enough of. One thing you did have though, is your beauty. So you used it, to get the things you needed, and sometimes a little more - but it all boiled down to one thing, just like it does now - to survive. 

That’s all life is about, really? Take away the frills, the fun - people just want to stay alive, no matter how rough things get.

So - you had a boyfriend to pay your rent. A man that loved to take you shopping. A lonely guy who paid off your car. You’ve never lived in luxury, but you always made it. Always got by. Had the things you needed and a little bit more. Always -

“Yeah, well, we all knew you were a whore.”

The words leave Derek’s mouth and you’re frozen. Speechless - and that never happens to you. You’re so shocked at what he said that your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it’s only then that you realize the bottle of hard liquor on his lap. 

You glare at Cindy, who quickly gets up and runs to her tent, more scared of you than walkers apparently - good, you think, because she’s such a bitch for talking about you behind your back. You try to be cool about it, to laugh it off like Derek is so wrong it doesn’t even deserve a reaction, but you’re so embarrassed you feel your chest aching. 

Has everyone known about your history the entire time you’ve been at camp? You shared those stories with Cindy in the beginning, one of the first nights you arrived, desperate for some comfort. Is that why everyone treats you so differently from the rest? Is that why you’re the black sheep of a fucking camp formed during the apocalypse?

Does Daryl know?

You’re ready to defend yourself, but you don’t get to. Because Daryl is around the fire so fast you don’t even have time to blink, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt and pounding his fists into his face. 

The sound of knuckles against bone is excruciating, makes you want to hurl - but you don’t tell him to stop. You’re frozen, and anyway, Derek deserves it, doesn’t he? 

It’s Rick, and a few other men that pull Daryl off of Derek, who’s sporting an eye so swollen it won’t shut and a busted lip, a cheek that’ll be purple for the next few weeks for sure. “Whore,” he spits, still able to talk, even as someone drags him away. “Man, shut up already,” one of the guys says to him, but nobody eases the sting of what he says. 

Daryl wipes sweat from his brow while Rick walks off to talk to Derek, but he can’t get a word in with the shit the other man is spewing. “Fucking whore,” he keeps grumbling. “There’s no money to milk from men anymore, is there? Bet you put out for that fish Dixon caught for you. Did you do the same for that new bra? Or that water bottle Rick brought back for you? Almost died you know, getting that shit for you, maybe you can thank me with,” Rick kicks him in the ribs before he can finish and tells him to shut up in that leader voice of his. 

You run off, now that the rest of the group has scattered, but you hear Daryl yell out, “Yeah, man, you should’ve died,” with a string of curse words. “All you fuckin’ people looking’ at her. Yer all whores in your own way. Useless too,” he continues, but you don’t hear it because you get into your tent and zip it up.

Great. All this drama, and now nobody is ever going to fucking like you now. You’ll be the black sheep forever, won’t you? It’s a harsh wake up call, and you’re thankful you’re alone. Your tentmate must’ve taken her daughter out to be with the other kids, away from the rowdiness at the fucking campfire. You sniffle, and climb into your sleeping bag. 

A minute later, before you’ve even had time to process what’s happening, Daryl enters the tent. He’s so big, it’s hard for him to fit, but he manages - cursing and crouching in a way that would make you laugh if this wasn’t such a depressing situation. 

He sits next to your sleeping bag. Knees bent, arms around his legs. He just sort of watches you. You look anywhere but his face, but you notice his knuckles are bloody red and torn, all because of you. 

“Didn’t have to defend me,’ you say, instead of thank you. “I wasn’t a whore, so,” but Daryl cuts you off. 

“Don’t matter what you were. He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Little prick deserves his ass kicked anyway. Can’t even shoot straight,” it’s like this moment is as uncomfortable for him as it is for you. You share a look, but you look away first, afraid of the intensity. You’ve never had someone stand up for you before - not like this. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do? 

You say nothing at all. A few more minutes go by, with your vision blurry as you stare at Daryl’s knuckles and he stares at the hole that shows the grassy ground in the bottom of your tent. Finally, he sighs, annoyed, and even though you’re not talking you’re still worried he’s going to leave. He’s your teddy bear after all, right? Your security blanket. Maybe you’re selfish - but you don't want him to go. 

And he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl adjusts his position so he can reach into his pocket and pull something out. It’s bright pink, satin looking - you wonder if he’s going to hand you a pair of racy panties just to seal the deal that he thinks you’re a slut. A whore. 

But is he wrong? The look of the muscles in his arm, at his sheer size - at the smell of him, so masculine and woodsy in this little tent it almost makes you dizzy with want. 

After what just happened, how can you be thinking about sex? Maybe you are a slut. A whore. You’ve done things for money before, but -

Daryl hands the piece of pink satin to you. “S’posed to be a ribbon,” he says, shrugging. He’s embarrassed you realize, and it’s cute. “Found it on a toy, er, teddy bear, thought you might like it. If you don’t, I,” but you cut him off, scoot closer to him as you tie it around your wrist. 

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say softly, sweetly - and it feels so natural to lean in and press your lips against his cheek. His body is warm, and when you grip his bicep every cell in your body is on fire with desire. He must’ve taken his jacket off after the fight. If it could even be called that, with the way Daryl jumped Derek. Fights are usually a two way street.

Your heart swells, at the fact that he protected you. Thought about you on a run. Saw something and thought of you. Men have bought you things before, of course - but never something personal like this. Never something you didn’t have to ask for beforehand, for nothing in return.

Daryl, he - he gives you feelings so fuzzy and pure in your chest that you almost forget you’re sleeping just a few feet away from a forest of dead bodies. 

He doesn’t wipe his cheek when you pull away after the kiss, which is a step in the right direction. You’ve seen Daryl lose his shit over the intimacy of a simple thank you hug with someone else from camp before.

You feel special.

“Was nothin,’” he says, before pausing. He looks at you, then away again, wringing his hands before continuing. “Don’t feel any typa way about doin’ what you had to do to survive, ya hear me? I know what it’s like to do what you hav’to to live, ya know? That fucker. He doesn't have a clue about makin’ it on your own. How tough it can be. Don’ listen to the shit he’s got to say. Don’t listen to none of these people,” he won’t look at you, but you look at him, the side profile of his face so handsome you want to reach out and touch him. But you refrain. 

Instead, you squeeze his arm, bicep tan and bulging. You lick your bottom lip. “Daryl,” you interrupt him and he looks at you, gaze on your eyes, then your lips, then to the pretty ribbon tied around your wrist. He visibly swallows, before looking back at your eyes. His eyes are blue, pretty. Too pretty for a man as rugged as him, but what’s the saying? 

A person who is good on the inside - their beauty shines through. You think that’s true about Daryl. At this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as beautiful as him. You breathe him in, going crazy over his pheromones - his smell. You can feel your body getting aroused at his closeness, and he’s not even doing anything sexual.

“Next time,” you say, teasing tone in your voice, “Can you bring the whole bear?”

────

“Look at us,” you say, trying not to skip beside Daryl. A mood this good feels eerie in this new world, but you can’t help the way you feel.

Daryl asked you to join him for a walk, and ever since that night when he gave you the ribbon in your tent - you’ve been closer than ever. You wear the ribbon around your wrist every single day, except for right now, when you’re wearing it to hold some of your hair back. 

You’re not sure what’s going on with you and Daryl, but there’s a freedom about it that fills you with joy. Helps you exhale easier in this crazy, cruel world - because he’s safe, and you like being around him, and he obviously likes you too, right? Or he wouldn’t ask you to go for a walk every single day, wouldn’t pay special attention to you during meals, making sure you’re eating enough - 

And he really wouldn’t have kissed you against a tree during his watch last week if he had any bad feelings towards you. 

Things at the camp are complicated, because that stunt Derek pulled separated the group. There’s people that hate you, because they’re really mad at Daryl - but nobody can be actually mad at Daryl, since he does so much for the entire group. Catches animals for food, is one of the strongest men besides Rick. You’re not exactly his girl, not even close, but you know that the only reason you haven’t been used as walker bait is because of Daryl’s status at the camp. 

When he kissed you, just a few weeks after that night in the tent - it was so much softer than you imagined. Because, yeah - you imagined what it would be like to kiss Daryl Dixon. Ever since you met him, really. He’s so tough, so crass, such a force. It’s always been an opinion of yours, that the toughest people really just need some softness. You wonder now, when he smiles shyly at you as you walk past a stream, if you’re that softness for him these days. 

“Look at us, what, girlie?” He asks, and you stifle a giggle, trying to remain serious for the bit of the joke. You brush your hand against his as you walk, wondering when he’ll grab it. Wondering when, if, he’ll ever claim you. But you’re trying not to rush things. It’s easy to get worried about time, when every single day is life and death - but there's something kind of beautiful about just going with the flow of what feels good. 

Living in the present, which is literally all you have now. All anyone has. And right now, your goal in the present, is to make Daryl laugh. 

“You’ve got your bow,” you say, gesturing to his weapon, “And I’ve got mine.” You flip your hair, showing off the pink, satin ribbon holding your hair away from your face. Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, but it only lasts for a second. 

Your face heats, pleased with yourself for making him laugh, and then your breath hitches when he grabs hold of your hand. 

“Yer sumthin’ else, girl,” he says fondly, and you walk into an area dense with trees before he nudges you against the trunk of one.

You don’t know what life was like for Daryl before walkers took over the population. You’re not sure if he had a lot, or a little, experience with women before this all happened. In fact, you don’t know a lot about Daryl at all. He’s closed off, he’s a little mean sometimes, too tough for his own good -

But god, the way he kisses. 

Hesitant, like he’s scared to take something he didn’t earn. You want to tell him that every single part of you, he has earned. You’ve known him for more time than your longest relationship. You’ve seen each other filthy, desperate, depraved. Covered in blood, covered in guts - starving, dirty, depressed. For a man that hardly talks, Daryl somehow knows you better than any man, maybe even any other person, ever has. 

He stood up for you. He tries to take care of you. He’s a good friend, he’s -

When he slips a hand to your hip and drops his crossbow on the ground, squeezes at your skin in a way that’s so possessive it makes your breath hitch, you literally let out a cry. Against your lips, Daryl murmurs, “Quiet, ‘less you wanna have a threesum with a walker.” His tongue tastes like cigarettes, a little bit like the apple juice one of the kids at the camp wanted him to try, because he’s a good sport, even if his resting bitch face might suggest otherwise. 

There’s something about him ordering you around that does it for you. You let him take charge of the kiss, but you grab his roaming hand and move it to your breast. He squeezes, but in your new bra, you don’t feel the friction you’re so desperately craving from him rubbing over your nipples. You want more, and you whine, trying not to be greedy but it’s just so damn hard. 

Against the tree, Daryl slips a leg between yours, and you shamelessly bend down to try to rub your aching core against it. “Daryl,” you whine, and he laughs, pulling away to look at you, his hair that’s getting longer plastered against his forehead with sweat. Everything about him is overwhelming. His smell, intense, his lips, delicious, his strength and size, so fucking hot you just want to curl up in the pocket of his shirt and stay safe forever. 

Because you don’t have a doubt in your mind - Daryl would keep you safe. You wonder, why you wasted your time with finance guys and entrepreneurs and men who’d never gotten their hands dirty, back when life was normal. Daryl, with calloused fingertips and his thick accent, a country boy through and through - he pleases you, makes you happier than anyone you’ve ever met before. 

Yeah, even in the apocalypse, you can find the romance. You kiss Daryl deeper. 

He moves his hand down from your breast to slip it into your pants, and he lets out a low noise in his throat at the feeling of your wetness already. Just from kissing him. You’re not ashamed - it’s been a long time since anyone touched your pussy like this, a long time since you even touched it yourself. There’s just no time alone, and you share a tent, and -

“Yer soakin,’” Daryl comments, and your entire body flushes with humiliation. But the good kind. You nod. “For you,” you whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in his again. 

Just as you expected, Darly is good with his fingers. He positions one of your legs over his hip so he has better access to finger you, rough hands, the calloused pads of his thumb dragging over your clit, so swollen after so long without cumming. It’s not going to take long, you know, to completely fucking burst. You want it so bad, to come apart on his fingers, to show him just how good you can be. He’s knuckle deep inside of you while still also putting pressure on your clit when you let out a screech, thankful you opened your eyes in time to see the walker coming from behind Daryl. 

You push him off of you until he curses and tries to pick up his crossbow, fingers still slick with your pussy, but you beat him to it. You grab the knife out of your boot, even though your body feels like jelly, and you slam it into the walker’s forehead as hard as you can. You huff and puff, because it takes a lot out of you, and when the walker is on the ground you slam your boot into its face a few too many times until the bottom of your shoe is covered with walker brains. 

“He’s dead,” Daryl says behind you. “Don’ waste yer energy.” You roll your eyes, wiping sweat from your face with a bandana you had in your pocket. 

“I know. That’s for him ruining my orgasm,” you say out loud, and behind you, Daryl lets out a low whistle. You’re really humiliated now, but what are the chances? A fucking walker trying to eat Daryl while you’re trying to get him to eat you? Some fucking luck. 

There’s still blood splattering on your face, and you turn to Daryl, wiping it with your sleeve. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” you say sheepishly, unsure of how to read his bland expression. But just because a walker interrupted, doesn’t mean you don’t want to continue your little fingering session. Just in case, shame out the window, you reach for him. Daryl backs away slightly. 

“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from you. “Don’ wanna fuck you in the forest,” and you understand, but also - where else can you have sex? Everyone’s always watching each other. When else can you get some time alone? 

Daryl looks down at the bulge in his pants, and you reach down and grope him, like some kind of horny harlot. Maybe you are. He watches you, the color of your nails, your tiny hand - and he lets out a groan himself. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, leaving you speechless and wet in the middle of the woods. He starts to walk away, but his head is turned to you and his eyes never leave you. You know it’s because he’s making sure you’re safe, watching over you, even with his dick chubbing up in his pants. He tugs his weapon up to rest on his shoulder. 

If that’s not a man, you don’t know what is. 

“Daryl,” you start to say, following him, about to beg him for something more, but he just throws an arm around your shoulders and tugs you along. You use the opportunity with his hand on your shoulder to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a small mark of your ownership. You wonder what he’ll say about that, if he’ll be mad -

He just squeezes your shoulder. “Not tryna deny you. I want you. Me and the little guy,” he looks down to his cock in his pants, obviously referring to that. “Yer just too pretty to do somethin’ like that in the woods. My tent, tonight?” You know that his tent mate is keeping watch tonight, so you’ll be alone for a good amount of time. Enough time to - you shiver just thinking about it. 

You nod eagerly. 

“You sure you’re not just disgusted at what I just did?” You phrase it like a joke, gently rubbing your lips on the healing cuts of his knuckles, but you’re serious. Maybe seeing a woman behave greedy, wanting, desperate - violent - maybe it was a huge turn off. 

Daryl shakes his head and tugs you closer, presses his lips to the top of your head. “Nah,” he assures, looking back down to the bulge in his pants. It’s even more noticeable than before. He takes the hand he used to finger you and sucks the digits, covered in your slick, into his mouth. The muscles in your cunt clench, at the way his cheekbones look, the level of lust in his eyes aimed at you. 

“That was fuckin’ sexy,” he assures, popping his fingers out of his mouth.

────

At dinner that night, which is squirrel - so you settle for half a protein bar and a bruised apple, Rick sits down beside you. You’re eating away from everyone else, because Daryl’s helping someone with something like he always is, but it’s alright because you’re in your own world, thinking about what’s to come later tonight with him. 

You’re in a trance, remembering the way he scratched at your scalp fondly when he walked you to your tent and watched you bend down to get inside. “Don’t sprain yer wrist before tonight,” he joked, insinuating you’d be finishing yourself off. He went off with a wink, leaving you reeling - because since when did Daryl Dixon joke around? 

You’ve been riding on a high for the rest of the night. 

Rick sitting beside you takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him and swallow the bit of stale protein bar you’ve been chewing for probably ten minutes, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’s so serious, it’s annoying. 

Don’t get it wrong - you like Rick. Appreciate everything he’s done, does for the camp - he’s just so intense, but he’s handsome in his own right too. Not your normal type, but then again - neither is Daryl. You just don’t understand a man like Rick, and he doesn’t get you. But he’s the best thing this group has, because he has everyone's interest at heart. Even someone like Daryl, well - 

He puts himself, and you by extension now, maybe - first. It’s not a bad thing, in fact, you find both sides of the coin admirable in their own way. 

“What’s up, Rick?” You finally ask. He looks down to his hands, before nodding behind you, and you turn and look at what he’s referring to - it’s Daryl, looking angrily at Derek, who’s by the fire drunkenly talking shit about everything while people try to calm him down. You sigh. 

“You and Daryl,” Rick says, and you’re not sure what to say to that - statement? Accusation? You just nod. “What about us?” You ask, and you really don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not sure why whatever you’re doing with Daryl is any of Rick, or anyone’s, business?

You expect a lecture. Something about needing to earn your keep, to stop distracting him, to make things right with Derek. Instead, Rick just pats you on the back, literally. 

“You’re good for him,” he says, before awkwardly walking off when someone calls his name. No doubt for a crisis that could easily be solved without his help. You feel sorta bad for Rick - people are so stressed, so traumatized in this new world, that they don’t want to use their brains at all. They put all their problems, no matter how small, on Rick, and that’s gotta be hard. 

You want to call out some sort of acknowledgement for all he does as he walks away, but Daryl begins walking towards you before you get the chance. You’re still looking towards Rick. “You checkin’ the boss out?” Daryl jokes, with something like possessiveness or jealousy in his tone. It burns you in the best way possible - that Daryl might worry about something like that. 

What can you say? You’ve always thought a possessive man was hot. 

Daryl plops down beside you. You’re sitting on a log, but he’s on the ground. Typical Daryl behavior. He wraps a hand around your ankle - and suddenly you’re very glad you got a chance to shave with the razor you stole from someone’s pile of toiletries after the last run. 

“That all yer eatin?’” He asks, referring to the empty wrapper in your hand. You shake your head and show off your sorry apple, but Daryl just shakes his head and scoffs. “Tha’s not enough. You can’t be picky about,” but he stops when he sees the expression on your face. 

You’ve talked to him about this before. He didn’t reply, but you know he was listening. Food - it’s the only thing you can be a little picky about. Everything else, you don't have any choice over. Where the camp goes, who you share a tent with. Food and now, this thing with Daryl - that’s all the power you have. Daryl nods, like he gets it but doesn’t like it, and then changes the subject. 

“Are you cold?” You ask, and Daryl laughs. As kind as he is to you, you know that he’s uncomfortable when you, or anyone, tries to show any kind of care for him. He nods his chin towards the ratty blanket you’re using. “You gon’ share with me, girlie?” You shake your head, a grin spreading across your face.

“No,” you say, tossing the blanket, the apple, and the wrapper into a duffle bag next to the log you’re sitting on. “Just thought I could warm you up in your tent.” Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he peaks over your shoulder to where the rest of the group is getting ready for bed, his tent mate grabbing a gun before heading to the area where he’ll keep watch while everyone sleeps. 

Daryl nods. “Yer dirty,” he grumbles, standing up, but he runs his hands up and down his bare arms like he’s feigning being cold. “C’mon then. You gunna warm me up or what?”

────

The first time Daryl fucked you, he went slow. Took his time, opening you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet - desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you, because you’d been thinking about it for too long. Too much kissing, humping, friction between the two of you - all you wanted, could imagine, was how his cock would feel against your throbbing center. 

When he finally thrusted inside of you, stretched you out and began to fuck into you, he didn’t let himself go like you always imagined. Insecurely, you narrowed your eyes, even as your back arched off of his sleeping bag. “When’s the last time?” You asked, referring to the last time he had sex. Daryl just let out a shaky laugh and calmed your fears with a thrust that made your toes curl and a moan escape your lips. 

“Long enough, pretty girl,” he assured, all while you huffed in brat and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jus’ wanna enjoy it. We’ve finally got the time.” And Daryl was right, but really, when is he ever wrong?

The first time you had sex you got to enjoy going slow. But the rest of the times after that - and there’s been a lot now, it’s always a quickie. A rush, because shit hit the fan at your current camp soon after the first night together. The entire group had to move, you lost people to walkers (though not Derek, unfortunately), and now getting off with Daryl only happens in quick spurts whenever you’re alone. 

In a way, the drama surrounding the camp has made the two of you closer. 

When the entire group has to drive down a walker infested highway, normally you’d be in a camper van with the other women and children, but Daryl has your back. 

“You’re ridin’ with me,” he says, shooting Rick a look before anyone can object. As he walks off, he purposely bumps his shoulder into Derek, who scoffs and does the same to you. Daryl doesn’t notice, but Rick does, and he tells Derek off before Daryl can do anything drastic like beat his ass again. 

“Hey,” he warns, shoving Derek away from you. “Watch it,” Derek grumbles, glaring at you before hopping into the back of a truck with a few of the other men. “What?” He asks mockingly, because you’re frozen, watching him in a trance while Daryl starts up his bike. 

Derek just can’t leave you alone - he picks on you every single chance he gets. “You got Rick standing up for you now too, huh?” He says, shaking his head in disgust. “You let him fuck you too?”

It’s not his words that hurt so much, but it’s the fact that he’s saying them at all. You’ve never done anything to Derek, have only been nice, yet he looks at you like a target and it hurts so bad your eyes threaten to spill tears. Thankfully, Daryl comes for you, and you get on the back of his bike with ease. 

“You okay?” He asks, even though it’s hard to hear with the sound of the rumble from the motorcycle. You nod, and press your face into his back. Daryl takes off down the highway, leading the way while Rick follows behind, and you selfishly let yourself doze off against him. You trust Daryl, more than you’ve ever trusted another man - and that’s a lot of pressure. 

Trusting anyone these days means you’re putting your life in their hands. It’s exhausting. When you tell the women at camp you’ll watch their kids while they go to the restroom, or go for a walk - essentially what you’re saying is you’ll protect their kids if shit was going south. Even just the thought, being responsible for someone else - it makes your chest heave. 

Your arms are tight around Daryl as he drives. You’re not sure how long you’re on the road for when the motorcycle stops, but you know you’re much farther ahead then the rest of the group. In another life, you imagine Daryl happy and free - driving to a city, or another town on a brand new motorcycle. Maybe working in a shop. You feel a pang of sadness, that he’ll never get that. 

He deserves so much more than this shit. You all do. 

Except maybe Derek. 

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

Daryl stops the bike and you get off, stretching your legs. 

“You good, dolly?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. You’re pretending not to like it, when in reality, it makes you tingle all over. You nod. 

“You go fast,” you say, and he laughs, steps off of the bike and walks to an empty field off to the side of the highway. “‘S the only way to go. Stay here,” he orders, before walking off. He grumbles something about taking a piss and you stifle a laugh, pretending to salute him. You see his hand twitch, like he wants to jokingly flip you off, but he stops himself. 

Something about that, that he won’t play rough with you, has your knees feeling wobbly. You feel like you can breathe, without the rest of the group breathing down your back, insulting you, accusing you of doing sexual things just to be treated like a human being. You try not to think about it, because you want to have a decent day and don’t want Derek to be the cause of tears when you’ve been through worse circumstances without crying. It’s hard though. 

You walk around the motorcycle, eyes on the ground. You catch a glimpse of your shoelace, pink against the black of your boot, because you used the ribbon for added flair when you gave your shoelace to someone at the camp who needed a belt. 

Daryl saw you, and promised you that night with his cock buried deep in your throat, “I’ll get you some more ribbons, pretty girl,” he assured, while you gagged and spit dribbled down your chin. “Too hard to hold your hair back when yer suckin’ me off like a pro.” 

That comment should’ve stung, but you know Daryl didn’t mean it like that. In fact, it was so hot that you did your best, until he spilled down your throat and you licked the mess you made off of his cock and balls and thighs. 

You’re lost in your thoughts, busy giving your pussy a heartbeat when you notice a little gold, bullet shaped thing on the ground. You’re not sure what it is, but if it is a bullet, you know having extra is always good. You reach down to grab it, only then realizing that it's a lipstick. 

You pop open the lid. It’s a pretty pink color, and while it’s used - you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. You wipe the top layer off before dabbing some with your finger and putting it on, trying to check yourself out in the mirror of the motorcycle when Daryl comes back. 

“The fuck are they?” He asks, zipping his pants up. He’s so, so, so - crass sometimes that it’s endearing. You shrug, and that’s when he notices the lipstick you’re wearing. His eyes are hooded, heavy with tiredness, and it makes him look all the more handsome. “There a makeup store aroun’ here I shud know about?” He teases, and you shake your head and hold up the lipstick tube. 

“Found this. How’s it look?” Daryl just nods, looking at you with a strange expression. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, until he tugs you closer to him by the wrist and tentatively presses his lips against yours. 

“Don’ care about the gloss,” he comments, and you resist the urge to explain it’s not gloss, it’s lipstick. “But I don’ call you pretty girl for no reason. Always pretty,” he says shyly, and Daryl is a perfect guy, but he never opens up. Hardly ever says how he feels, or what he thinks - but he’s being clear now. That he wants you, verbally, even though his actions in everything he do is always proving that to you. 

It’s crazy, the feeling of happiness bubbling in your chest, all thanks to Daryl Dixon. On the fucking highway filled with walkers probably silent in their cars, with flat tires and blood stains and ramsacked belongings, you stand on your tip toes and nudge the toe of your boots against his, grabbing hold of his handsome face and peppering kisses all over. You leave pink lipstick marks, but he doesn’t know that yet - and it makes you giggle. 

Putting your mark all over Daryl - you’ve never been possessive, but wow does it feel good. When you finally pull away, Daryl looks at you like you’re crazy. Then he takes a look down the highway to make sure nobody’s coming, before bending you over the front of his motorcycle. 

“Grab the handlebars,” he orders, a hand on your back before roughly pulling your pants down your ass. It’s risky, knowing that the rest of the camp could drive up at any minute, but who really cares? They already think so low of you. They already -

Your eyes shut as Daryl shoves his half hard cock inside of you, and your walls clamp down around him, so tight you feel him growing. It happened so fast he wasn’t even fully hard, but now he is, small thrusts so the both of you can get used to the feeling. Your hands are cramping where they grip the bars of his bike, so tight, until it almost starts to tip. Daryl has an idea. 

He pulls out, cock in hand with his fucking pants not even pulled all the way down, and he sits himself over his bike like normal. “Take em’ off,” he says, nodding towards your pants, and you obey, stripping them off until it takes too long because of your boots and Daryl just hauls you over to him. 

You almost trip as he lifts you onto the bike, bent over the handlebars, eyes on the road, before he slips his cock into you. It’s like you’re sitting on his lap, and he reaches around you, fully supporting your body while rubbing your clit. 

“Can you move?” He asks roughly, and you whine, trying to go up and down on his cock but it’s too hard at the angle. Daryl presses a kiss to your head, moves some of your hair back while he takes hold of your hips and ruts you back and forth over his dick. You know he’s strong, but feeling it first hand is something else entirely. It’s like you’re a doll with the way he easily controls your body, dick so thick it feels like he’s stretching your pussy into the perfect mold just for him.

“Don’ worry,” he assures, letting out a breath of pleasure right by your ear. “I got ya. Only time yer quiet ‘s when you got my cock in you, huh?”

He’s not wrong. You wish you could see his face, but this position, your back to his front, is pretty hot too.

It’s only a minute later, when his hand slips while you try to pull your body up to do some of the work, that he nearly pinches your clit and it’s the pain that sends you over the edge. You cum, that easily against him, and you cry out his name just as you both hear the sound of an engine in the distance. Daryl curses, throws his head back at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing him, and quite literally picks you up off his cock and puts you on your feet. 

“Knees,” he says quickly, and you obey, because of course you do, even though the gravel of the road is a little painful on your knees. He grabs you by your hair, and forces your mouth onto his cock where he spills his load down your throat. You swallow it down and kitten lick the head of his cock clean after, admiring the pink lipstick marks all over his perfect dick as he quickly zips tucks his dick in his pants and zips up, but not before helping you get your pants back up too. 

“If we live another day,” Daryl says, helping you straighten out your pants when the other cars pull up. He snaps the band of your panties, white cotton and floral print, against your skin while the rest of the group gets out of the cars to have a meeting over some bullshit, you’re sure. “I’ll return the favor,” he finishes. 

You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you pull up his arm and cuddle into his side as he stands up, his tongue on your mind even though you just came all over his cock. You wish you could’ve had time to ride your orgasm out, but you’ll take what you can get.

Rick nods to Daryl as he gets out of his truck. He looks between the two of you, and for the first time, maybe ever, - you see him smirk a little. 

“‘S your color, man,” he says, closing the car door. Daryl is confused, and takes a look at himself in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, notices all the kiss marks and another first happens -

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

“I wanna come,” you say, resisting the urge to literally stomp your foot as Rick and Daryl and a few other men head out on a run. 

It’s not like you actually want to go, but you can’t bear the thought of Daryl leaving without you. You know he can take care of himself, but the thought of him not returning - it literally makes you feel sick. You tug on the sleeves of your sweater while Daryl loads a bag of guns into the back of Rick’s truck, the other men exchanging glances that you know are them hoping Rick puts you in your place. 

Ever since people caught on about you and Daryl, they’ve kept their mouths shut in regards to you. Which is good. You’re still ignored, like before - but at least you’ve got a little respect. You cross your arms as Rick and Daryl walk towards you. 

“It’s dangerous out there,” Rick says, as if you’re an idiot who’s head has been buried in the sand for the past year. He sighs. “Look - we need you here. This is your role,” he looks like he wants to continue, but Daryl places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look that Rick knows means let me handle this.

But you already know what Daryl is going to say to you, and you don’t want to fucking hear it. “I want to come, Daryl,” you say, trying not to whine. “I’m good with a gun, and since Derek can’t go,” you lower your voice, but Derek must’ve been slinking around. He pops up next to you, and Daryl tenses. 

“You,” Daryl warns, mood gone sour just from Derek’s presence. “Fuck off.”

Derek laughs, but he’s obviously pissed. He can’t go on anymore runs, at least not for a while - he’s too scared, after a walker almost bit him the last time. 

It’s only when you tense up, that Daryl realizes the other reason you don’t want to be left alone. 

You don’t want to be alone with Derek. Yes, there’s other women at the camp and a few other men, but Derek is a scary, loose cannon. He’s the last person you want to be around right now. Daryl’s jaw locks, and he looks between the two of you, at the way you’re uncomfortable. Someone in Rick’s truck blares the horn, and he turns around, stressed out, not knowing what to do. 

“Fuck face,” Daryl grumbles, running a hand down his face. He’s addressing Derek with a glare. He walks closer to him, chest to chest almost, backing Derek almost onto his ass. Derek can pretend to be tough all he wants - but he’s a bitch in comparison to a man like Daryl. 

“Stay away from her. Don’t even look at her. If I come back and you so much as,” but Derek smirks. “If,” he emphasizes, until Daryl literally shoves him. Rick calls his name, and Daryl backs off. 

You end up dropping whatever you’re saying, hating the position you’re putting Daryl in - like you’re a kid who has to have your way. Daryl is just trying to help the group, he has responsibilities - you don’t need to make his job harder than it is, so you wave him off. “I’ll be fine, Daryl. Just - come back safe.” You kiss his cheek and then he’s off.

You go to your tent to avoid Derek when the men going on the run are gone, but as you walk away you hear him speaking to you. “What’re you doing with that white trash? You might’ve been a whore, but you’re no trailer trash. You wouldn’t be with him if this was any other world.”

You stop in your tracks. “Don’t talk about Daryl like that,” you say softly, but firmly. For all Daryl does for everyone - you can’t believe Derek has the fucking nerve to talk shit. You want to flip him off, but he walks closer to you, and you freeze. You’re more scared of this man than a fucking walker, and your stomach flips with anxiety at his nearness.

“I worked in finance,” he says, like it matters. You actually have to stifle a laugh, confused at why his past matters - he’s so worthless that this is all he has to brag about? He thinks you care? Is he trying to relate to you, by putting Daryl down? He’s an idiot.

You smile sweetly, as if that’s anything to brag about. All the finance guys you knew in the city before all of this - they were horrible people. Of course that’s what Derek used to do. 

“Trust me, Derek,” you say, hoping it stings. “I know.”

You walk away again, but just as you do, he grabs you by the arm. You try to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he won’t let you go. He tugs you closer to him, and you wish anyone cared about you enough to help you. 

“Let go of me,” you spit, but Derek just shakes his head.

“You’re such a stupid bitch, you know that? Acting too good for any of us, treating all of us like shit. But you put out for fucking Dixon - let all of us hear you letting him fuck you in his tent and the woods. We saw you on your knees that day on the highway. I mean, it’s not a secret you’re a slut, but it’s another thing to see it. And now Rick is defending you? That why you were talking to him the other day for dinner? Offering yourself up for more rations or something? You’re sick,” Derek rants and raves, bruising your arm with his grip.

“Let me go,” you say, trying not to show how scared you are. “Or I’ll fucking scream.” 

Derek actually laughs, shaking his head. You’re disturbed to know that he’s been watching you? Following you and Daryl? Because the both of you know - you only ever fooled around with Daryl when nobody could listen and see unless they were trying to. You wouldn’t do that, and neither would Daryl.

“If I’m such a stupid slut, that must make you pretty bad, huh? That I won’t even put out for you,” you hate that you even say those words, like you’d ever consider having sex with this man, but you want to hurt him. To get him to see that he's wrong about you - you want him to leave you alone.  

“You fucking bitch,” Derek says, pushing you to the ground.

You let out a cry. You should’ve never told Daryl and Rick you’d be okay, you should’ve -

Suddenly Derek is off of you. You’re frozen for a second, before you hear screaming and someone calling out your name. 

You’re in shock as someone helps you up. You know it’s Rick, because you notice his watch. “Damnit,” he curses, and you register the sound of Daryl’s voice. You look around for him, and when you find him, you see Derek on the ground, an arrow in his head. 

He’s dead - for now. That fast. Until he turns into a walker. 

Daryl walks to you, pulls you into his arms. “What happened?” He asks, and you’re worried he’s going to blame you, because you provoked him, and you stupidly left your weapons in your tent. You’re worried he’s going to think differently of you, that Rick will be mad that Derek is dead, and all these worries start swirling in your head until you can’t be strong anymore. You start crying so loud that you know you’ll be responsible for any walkers coming into camp tonight. 

Rick starts to talk, but Daryl, for the first time ever, shuts him down harshly. “No, man. I ain’t sorry. He had it coming,” he says sharply, and Rick just swallows, holds his hands up like he agrees. 

“Jus’ was gonna say to finish the job,” and you know he means, kill the fucker before he turns. 

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do. 

Wordlessly, you pull yourself out of Daryl’s arms and walk towards Derek’s corpse. Everyone at the camp has gathered around now, too little too fucking late, but Rick tries to stop you from getting closer. You smack his hand away, and hold your palm out. It takes a minute, until Daryl finally orders Rick to give you what you want. 

Rick hesitantly places a gun in your hand - and you shoot Derek in the head.

────

You’ve never killed someone who hasn’t turned yet. Derek was the first.

What scares you the most, is how little you care. 

After what happened, you told Daryl everything that Derek said. You learned that night, from both Rick and Daryl, that the reason Derek was so horrible is because he wanted you - and how scary is that? What if he hurt you in another way once he had you on the ground? You’re lucky Rick forgot his gun and backpack on the run, that they had to turn around and come back to camp - the reason they got to you in time.

Rick assured you that you did the right thing. Which felt good, coming from the moral compass of the group. Everyone else was kind too, apologetic - you guess Derek scared more people into submission than you thought. 

But Daryl was just pissed. More angry than you’d ever seen him. Throwing shit, breaking stuff - burning Derek the minute he dragged him a far enough distance from camp. Derek never even got a chance to turn. 

Daryl threatened to leave the group with just you. It seemed like a good idea at first, until the reality that two people can’t survive on their own. No matter how resourceful, strong, and brave Daryl is. 

But that meant a lot, that Daryl was trying - but the important thing is to survive. 

The last few weeks, you’ve kept your head down. You clean, you help cook, you even take a few bites of whatever Daryl cooks because he pretty much forces you to - and because, secretly, you like how proud of you he looks when you try something new. 

You just wish the world was different. But Daryl’s been amazing. 

Rick’s been kind too. Everyone has, and maybe -

The sound of the zipper on your tent takes you out of your thoughts. You’re braiding your hair since you just washed it, but it’s proving to be a difficult task. You’re thankful for the distraction.

It’s Daryl.

“I already ate,” you tell him, worried that he’s bringing you some rodent that’s badly cooked. But you’re trying to be nice - he’s the only good thing in your world these days, so you soften your words. “Come inside and cuddle.”

Daryl squeezes inside the tent, and he leans on his side by your sleeping bag, just watching you. His head balanced on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

“Have somethin’ for you,” he says, not waiting for you to reply. In his hand is something wrapped in a tissue and you wonder what it is. He places it on your lap, and you look at him, excited but also a little upset. 

“I told you to stop risking your life to get me things,” you scold, because everytime Daryl goes on a run, he finds things for you. Ribbons, hair clips, a pink toothbrush the other day. Lip gloss and lipstick (he knows the difference now), a pair of socks with little bows on them that are a size too big but still your favorite. He’s always saying how cute you are, how he thinks about you whenever he sees something pink.

It’s the best compliment ever.

You look to the other end of your sleeping bag, where a teddy bear Daryl found for you on a run a few weeks ago faces you both. It’s missing an eye, has the ribbon, the first gift he ever gave to you tied around its neck, and you love it so much that you sleep with it every night.

It’s definitely seen better days, and you don’t really know where he found it, but it’s so special to you - partly because Daryl gave it to you, and partly because it’s a little part of him that’s always with you. Part teddy bear, part security blanket - just like him.

It’s also a little scraggly. Sort of rough, dirty - but cuddly just the same. Kind of like Daryl. You move it a little closer.

Daryl groans in frustration and you almost roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Hush, lady, y’know I can take care of myself. ‘S nothing,” he nods to the thing on your lap, and you sigh and open the tissue. 

It’s a cookie. 

Your brows furrow, and you look at Daryl, all confused. “What,” you start, and he shrugs, sitting up. He rubs a hand down his face. 

“Remembered what you said, about the cookies,” he’s sheepish, as if this isn’t the sweetest thing in the world. You gulp, trying not to cry at how touched you are, but you can’t help it. Tears brim at your waterline, and you wipe your eyes. 

“Oh,” he scolds, letting out a huff. “Don’ cry. I just remembered what you said, is all. It’s probably not good anymore, but you’re my girl, and I want,” you smile even as tears run down your face. 

“Your girl,” you hold that close to your heart, and Daryl nods, avoiding eye contact. You don’t care. You throw yourself into his arms. 

His hug is warm, strong, and you feel the stress leave your body as he kisses your temple. He was listening, all those times you were talking. 

Daryl Dixon, you think, the man that you are. 

Your silence must be unexpected. He pulls away, watches your thumb brush over the most likely stale cookie he probably found on a run. You’re not really gonna eat it - but it’s the thought that counts. 

“You talked about what ya miss, from before. But when I look back,” pretty blue eyes look at you. He cups your chin, presses his lips against yours. 

You make a note to ask for chapstick for the both of you on the next run. 

“Don’ cry, c’mon. You’re makin me soft,” he complains, even as he holds you closer. You want tell him that you can’t make him something he already is, but what he says next throws the sass right out of you. “When I look back, before I knew you,” he finishes shyly, “I just miss you, ya know?” 

Daryl says that he’s not romantic, but he’s the most romantic man you've ever met. He’s a good person. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and even though he’s vague sometimes, too quiet for his own good - you know what he means. 

You can’t believe there was a time you didn’t know - a time you didn’t love - this man. He’s everything to you.

And maybe, yeah - this world is hell. There’s death and decay and too much sadness to catch a break, but there’s one good thing in all of it. One thing so important to the both of you, that gives a little bit of meaning to this shitty, shitty world. 

You found each other. You have each other. 

You sniffle and nod, holding the cookie close, but Daryl even closer.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek softly. You feel him relax at your touch. “I’ve always missed you too, Daryl.”

[lowkeyerror]

Help With The Curriculum

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: Professor!Harkness, Professor!Reader, smut, cunnulingus, fingering, dirty talk, thigh riding, pregnancy/breeding kink mentioned, Let me know if there are more

Summary: Both you and Agatha are history professors at university. The students often compare your courses so Agatha attends one of your lectures. She asks you to go to dinner with her, to help her come up with a more engaging curriculum. Just meal between two educators... until it’s not

An: I see a lot of professor Agatha content and I wanted in 🤷‍♀️.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Professor Harkness was a scary woman. You had heard students mumble about her in the hallways and in your own classroom as well. They’re were often a lot of comparisons between the two of you, considering you were both history professors.

Students who ended up in your course before it filled up, were considered the lucky ones. Anyone else had to take on professor Harkness.

Her approach to teaching was very no-nonsense and straight-forward. Some described her lectures as too complex to follow, her paper to hard to tackle, and her attitude too much to handle.

The way they spoke about her and her course, made you feel like you were doing something wrong. You hadn’t struck fear of failure into your students. It was their money and time that they were wasting if they consistently did poorly, in your opinion.

Agatha and yourself had roughly the same success rate amongst the students. The averages were high and for that you were grateful.

You slowly paced the lecture hall as you spoke. Your voice bounced off the walls, accompanied by the low hums of laptops and the sound of typing.

The class was nearly over, but you wanted to make sure the students were prepared for the upcoming exam, so you made sure to hammer the last few points in.

“Alright, I know it’s a 3-day weekend and you all plan to make the most of it, but you should make some time to study too. When you come back, we’ll review and then the following class will be a test. Have a good weekend everyone.”

With your dismissal, everyone began to gather their things and exit the lecture hall. You head back to your desk and begin to organize some of the students’ papers.

“Your approach is a lot better than they give you credit for.”

You lift your head to meet the voice. Professor Harkness is sat in one of seats, eyes focused on you.

“Professor Harkness, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She rises from her seat and makes her way over to your desk, “I just had to see you lecture in person. The students talk you know?”

You hum, “What do they say?”

She tilts her head in faux-thought, “Something along the line of you being a much better lecturer than I am and how your class has a better ‘vibe’ than mine.”

You chuckle at her antics, “Well, you started off by saying I deserve more credit for my work.”

Her smile is sly, “You do, because they talk about you like you’re some kind of pushover, but you don’t really come off like that.”

You shrug, “Gossip doesn’t stop in high school. We’re both good educators. Roughly the same results with the students as well. Did you come to just scope me out?”

“I was hoping to talk curriculum with you. I’ve been trying to find something more interesting, that keeps them engaged, but still feels on path with the course?”

You nod along to her words, “Sounds good, do you have anything in mind?”

“Too many to count, if I’m being honest. Maybe we can figure something out together over dinner?”

Your head stops bobbing and you give her your full attention, “Dinner?”

Professor Harkness doubles down, “Dinner. Nothing crazy, just a meal between colleagues. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

You begin to scribble a few words on a piece of paper, then hand the paper to the other professor, “I will see you tonight, Professor Harkness.”

She tucks your address into the pocket of her jacket, “Please, just Agatha.”

“Alright, Agatha, I’ll see you tonight,” her name holds weight on your tongue.

She shines you an award winning smile, “Later Professor L/n.”

Before you can correct her she’s turned her back on you opting to exit the hall. Your eyes linger on her figure as she walks out. It feels like there's an extra pep in her step, a sway in her hips, a happiness that is rarely seen on the woman. The thought that you had that kind of effect on her made you smile a little.

She was an attractive woman. It was the combination of her intellect, her charm, and her appearance. Agatha was a perfect 10 in all of the categories. It was hard not to feel something for her. Having dinner with her might be the best part of the three-day weekend.

With the distraction from Agatha, you couldn't go back to grading papers. Your body has finally caught up to your mind and you began to fluster as you thought about tonight. You already had your last class for the day so you decide to just go home.

Before you settle in too much, you go through your closet, trying to find something to wear. You had no idea, where you were going. It made it hard to pick something to wear. She did say that this was nothing crazy, and you were technically just going to talk about the curriculum, so did you really need to go all out?

You ended up going with something that was simple, but elevated. Once you had your outfit sorted out, you went to get ready. A good shower, brushing your teeth, washing your face, and doing your hair, were all things you did.

It was 8pm sharp when your doorbell rang. You took in a deep breath, shaking the nerves away.

“It’s just dinner,” you mumble to yourself, opening the door.

To your relief Agatha isn’t super dressed up either. She’s wearing clothes that are nice, but casual. A round pair of glasses sit on her face, she looks cute in them.

“You look good,” she says taking in your attire.

“I could say the same to you,” you return the compliment.

“Shall we?”

You step out of your house and the two of you walk side by side to her car. She opens the door for you and you slide in the passenger seat. When she gets in the driver’s seat, she begins to speak.

“Before we go anywhere, I have to ask… are we above going to Chili’s?”

You laugh at her question, “What, are we too old for a triple dipper and $6 margaritas?”

“I don't think I’ll ever be too old for a $6 marg.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

There’s a comfortable silence that envelopes the two of you on the drive. You hum quietly along to the music playing on the radio. You notice Agatha tapping her finger to the beat against the steering wheel.

Your gaze hyper fixates on the details of her hand. There were pronounced veins running along the top, her fingers were slender, and her knuckles were rosy. Her nails seemed to be manicured, but no paint was placed over them.

When you arrive at Chili’s you are surprised to be seated quickly amongst the busy establishment. It was a Friday night leading into a three- day weekend so, the crowd was as large as they expected it to be. Both of you are quick to order a margarita before even looking at the menu.

“So, have you narrowed down any of the choices for the curriculum?”

Agatha seems uncertain as she speaks, “How do you feel about Salem?”

You raise your brow, “Massachusetts?”

Agatha rolls her eyes, but laughs, “Where else, professor?”

“First off, it’s Y/n. Secondly, I was just clarifying. I think Salem is a city filled with history,” you add.

“Is it college-level interesting though? Do you think the students will think it's childish?”

You shake your head, “I’m sure with your teaching style you could make SpongeBob seem like important government documents.”

She laughs, “Be honest, I know you hear students’ gossip, is my course really that much harder than yours?”

You shrug, “Everything is dramatic at their age, I’d have to take a page from your book and sit in on your lecture to see.”

Agatha smiles slyly, “You’re welcome to pop in at any time.”

“Did my lecture seem like a cake walk to you?”

“No, I have a feeling you just sound nicer than I do,” Agatha reveals.

You shake your head, “I think you’re nice.”

She rolls her eyes again, “I’m nice to you, but that’s different.”

You challenge her, “How so?”

The professor seems to fluster a bit, luckily she has a chance to regroup when the waitress comes to take your order. Once she walks away, Agatha thinks she had successfully dodged the question, but you don't let the topic go so suddenly.

“I’m waiting Professor Harkness.”

She scratches the back of her neck, “Well we are colleagues, so it’s a different type of dynamic.”

You hum, “Interesting, but you didn't say you're nice to all the professors, just to me. I don’t mean to assume, but I don’t know if I can say your reputation is only infamous with the student body. I’m pretty sure Professor Lewis is terrified of you.”

“What do you want me to say? You’re easy on the eyes sweetheart.”

You feel your face heat with her words. It’s now you that is sputtering for response, “I- uh-"

“Lucky, we teach history and not English,” Agatha teases you further.

Your mouth opens in shock, “You enjoy seeing me flustered like this?”

Agatha leans back in her seat, “I’m not going to say that I don’t enjoy seeing you flustered. I think it’s adorable.”

You scoff playfully, “So you asked me out just to see me flustered then? Because it seems like you had Salem in mind this whole time. Meaning you just wanted to have some one-on-one time with me, professor.”

Agatha begins to stumble over words like you had moments prior. Her cheeks taking on a light pink shade as you had caught her red handed.

“Would you have agreed otherwise?”

You see her looking at the table. You reach across placing your hand in hers. The movement causes her to meet your gaze. You smile at her sweetly.

“Agatha, I agreed anyway. I had a feeling you didn't need my help, considering you've been doing this longer than I have. I'm sure you could've asked Professor Vidal if you really needed a good opinion.”

“Rio is too annoying to ask. I still would've asked you, even if I wasn't drawn to you.”

You chuckle to yourself, “Drawn to me, huh? I felt your eyes on me the entire lecture. I wonder if you even heard anything I said.”

Agatha bites her lip, “What can I say? Your outfit was distracting professor.”

“Maybe next time we can do something about that,” you say to her suggestively.

“Something like what?”

Your food comes in the middle of the conversation. You pull your hand out of hers to grab a fry. You pop the fry into your mouth.

“Maybe take it off, if it’s such a distraction.”

Agatha's eyes darken, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart.”

You don't fold under her stare, “I don't make threats Agatha, just promises.”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

The question is all it takes for you to quickly pay and get to go boxes for your food. The anticipation only builds once you’re in the car. You can hardly keep yourself from losing control right there.

Agatha drives you to her place. You barely get through the door when she’s shoving your back against it. Her lips on yours. Your hands fall into the dips of her hips, while her’s rest on your face. You kiss her back with fervor. It’s clear to you that she wants to dominate you, but you don’t know if you want her to do that.

You pull away slightly out of breath, “Nice place, professor.”

“The bedroom is the best room in the house,” she returns equally out of breath.

“Show me.”

When you get to the bedroom it’s you pushing her against the wall. Your lips attach to her neck sucking harshly.

“Possessive much?” You can feel the vibration of her throaty chuckle against your lips.

You bite down on her exposed skin before soothing it with your tongue, “Is there someone else marking you up like this?”

Her breath hitches at the tone in your voice, “No.”

“Good, because you’re mine now and I don’t like sharing.”

In a swift motion her shirt is over her head and you’re kissing once again. The feeling of her bare skin against your hands only fuels the passion between you. She’s warm and her skin is soft.

Your hand trails down past the waistband of her pants straight for her cunt. She’s already soaked for you. You groan at the feeling of her wetness on your fingers.

“So ready for me baby.”

She whines for you, “Please, inside.”

“Patience professor, you can't have a body like this and expect me not to want to explore it a bit.”

You pull your hand from her underwear. You opt to kiss the top of her breasts while you unhook her bra. Her hands tangle in your hair. As soon as they’re free, your mouth latches on to one of her nipples.

You suckle them, swirling your tongue around the already stiff bud.

“Teeth baby, I like it a little rough.”

You comply, your teeth scraping the skin eagerly. Biting, marking, claiming her as your own. Her hands fall from your hair to climb up your shirt.

“I need to feel you,” she whispers.

You fumble with your shirt and pull it over your head. You see her eyes dilate as she has a full view of your abdomen. She meets your gaze as to ask for permission. Your response is taking your bra off. She takes a hand full of your breasts and you sigh in relief.

She massages them tenderly. At the same time she guides you to the bed. Your back hits the mattress and she straddles your waist. The way she touches you makes you warm on the insides; it’s addictive.

Your hips buck under her weight. She smiles slyly grinding down against your pants. The feeling is obscured by the fabric in-between and so you become desperate to remove it. You start with the button to her jeans. She stands to pull them off and you shimmy yours off while lying on the bed.

You groan at the sight of Agatha’s dripping core. She tries to climb back on to your waist but you use her arms to move her higher up your body. She doesn’t resist, resting her thighs on either side of your head.

Having a whiff of her arousal makes you lose your composure. You bury your face into her juicy pussy.

“Fuck,” she can’t help but rut against your ravenous tongue. “You look so hot under me, baby. God, I’d give you an A plus in eating me out.”

You grunt against her at the praise. Your arms hook over her thighs, keeping her in place.

“Don’t stop,” she roughly grabs your hair, biting her lip as she chases her high.

You take the new pace in stride. Your lips enclose her clit, sucking harshly, remembering her request to be rough. Your hot breath on her clit mixed with the intense sucking is almost enough to make her cum. It’s when your teeth gnaw experimentally at her clit that she comes undone.

From this angle you can see her pussy clenching around nothing. You can’t help yourself as you stick two fingers inside of her. Slowly you pump in and out of her, relishing in the feeling of her walls around your fingers.

“Can you give me another professor?”

“As many as you want, baby. Keep fucking me all night,” she cries out.

You begin pumping at a sharper tempo. You add a third finger and not long after, she’s cumming again.

Finally you move her back into your lap, sitting up to bombard her with your lips. She needed to taste how sweet she was. You only break the kiss to shove your fingers in her mouth.

She hums, bobbing her head up and down your fingers. The sight alone makes your cunt ache. You realize how soaked you are in that moment. Her mouth is almost just as tight and warm as her cunt.

When your fingers fall from her mouth, you gasp. You don’t have a clue as to when Agatha’s hand had neared your pooling heat, but it did. She pulls your panties to the side easily slipping a finger inside of you. Your head falls on her shoulder and she chuckles.

“All worked up from having my pussy in your mouth, sweetheart? My taste has you this wet.”

You nod against her, “All for you, professor. You taste so sweet.”

“And how do you taste sweetheart?”

She slips the finger was inside of you, into her mouth. Her eyes close at the taste, “Fuck, I need more of you.”

She lays you back with your legs hanging off of the edge of the bed. She kneels on the floor, spreading you further for her. Her finger slips back into you and her mouth begins to leave hot open kisses on your thighs. They pace up your thighs before lapping up the drool that spills out of your cunt as she fingers you.

Your hand reaches to caress her face, “I was looking at your fingers in the car. Long, sharp, dexterous, wondering if they would fill me up good, if they would wrap around my neck, and… fuck you feel so good inside of me Agatha.”

With her fingers still inside you she wraps her free hand around your neck, and comes off of the floor to kiss you. Your mouth vibrates against her’s, the pleasure from her fingers making it impossible for you to be quiet.

Agatha pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. She begins to use her thumb to toy with your clit, unwilling to break eye contact.

“Next time, I’ll let you fuck me with a strap. As fast and hard as you want. I’ll shut up and take it for however long you want, in whatever positions you want. How would you fuck me baby?”

You can feel yourself getting impossibly more wet with each one of her words. Her movements slow as you fail to answer.

You begin to squirm, mewling under her will, “Riding me, I-I want to see you bounce on my cock. Your hair to the side trying to steady yourself when I start fucking into you.”

She positions herself so she could grind against your thigh while fingering you.

“How else?”

You gulp involuntary as she moves her hair to one side of her face, “Standing with your face against the wall and my hand around your neck.”

You watch as Agatha fingers you and you feel yourself falling over the edge. She squeezes your throat a little and your eyes drift to her.

“One more baby, I need one more.”

You tense your thigh for her. You make sure your eyes are hard as you look for her, “ I want you on your knees, teary eyed as I fuck your face. I want to hear you gag on it, and fuck if I could I’d shoot my load down your throat. I’d pull you up from the floor and put you in mating press and pound your pussy. I don’t care how sloppy it would get. I want to cum inside you, fill you up. Fuck Agatha, if I could get you pregnant, I’d keep breeding you until we had enough to fill a lecture hall. I’d hold my cum hostage in your cunt, the only way it’d come out is if I decide to eat it out of you.”

You feel her movements stutter on your thigh as an ungodly moan spills from her mouth. The floodgates open and you feel her squirting all over your thigh. The sight of her squirting on you sent you over the edge. You come hard, arching your back off of her bed. Her arms pull your back fully off the bed, so your head is resting against her chest. Your arms are slightly stronger as the hold her up. Her chin rest on the top of your head. Both of you struggle to catch your breath.

“Can I tell you something?” You mumble against her skin.

“Hmm.”

You close your eyes, “I also want to fuck you in the lecture hall; between classes.”

She shivers in your hold, “You aren’t as innocent as you look.”

“You bring it out of me, professor” you lift your head to meet her with a delicate kiss.

“Are you hungry? I was thinking we could shower, heat the food, and maybe watch a movie,” she plays with your hair as she speaks.

You nod, “That sounds perfect."

You wait a few moments, expecting her to get up, “Uh Agatha.”

“I’ll let you know when I think my legs are ok to move,” she answers the question you didn’t even have to ask.

You laugh at her, unable to hold it in. She smacks your shoulder playfully, but it doesn’t stop you.

This wouldn’t be a one-time thing. There was no way that you were willingly to let the sparks between the two of you die here. You had a feeling that Agatha felt the same. There are many more dates to be had, many more nights to spend together, and many more mind-blowing orgasms to give each other.

Next part

[kisses4reid]

understand? pt. 1 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you’re a polyglot translator assigned to work for the bau in a cross-national case, and there’s a doctor who wants to impress you.

genre - fem!reader, SHE/HER r, fluff, meet cute, you know more than spencer and he’s attracted to that

warnings - you're both awkward, mentions of gross case file photos, little research about polyglots actually done so there are inaccuracies, cliffhanger for part 2.

w/c - 1.4k

a/n - thank you for the req anon!! there was multiple parts to this but i really like the first idea so that’s what this fic is about, might keep the other idea for later hehe. i did change some aspects. love you, thank you for the support <33 there will be multiple parts!!! stay tuned!!!

req - hi pia 💞💝🩷💓 how r u? i hope you’re feeling wonderful! this is my first time requesting smthg i apologize if i get something wrong! i’ve been having 2 thoughts about spencer x fem!reader, where reader is a russian translator and idk they meet cute or she has to work with the bau helping them on a case. just wanted to give these ideas to you, obviously feel free to do anything with them! i really enjoy your work and your writing is incredible! i have your notifications on so i am always reading whatever you post! have a great day pia 💝 lots n lots of kisses for u!

This was not what you expected. 

You, a woman in your late twenties that spent most of her time in a room listening to voices and decoding foreign messages, didn’t know what you expected. But this: a scary boss, an italian old man, and a skinny college kid, was not it. 

“Y/n L/n? I’m Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief, and this is Agent Rossi and Doctor Agent Reid.” 

You nodded your head, thick hair covering your top eyelashes as you glanced at the men. Agent Rossi shook your hand, and Dr Reid simply stood and gawked at you. To be honest, it made you worried. You had been warned this was a close knit team, that they trusted each other more than anything and that you shouldn’t get attached to any of them as you’d only be assisting them for one case.

Maybe they just didn’t warm up to new people. 

“I’ll do your formal introduction to the rest of the team now, if you’re settled down.” He asks cooly. You like the way his voice rasps, it’s assertive yet comforting. 

“Yes, of course. I can’t wait.” You smiled reassuringly at the unit chief, not ignoring the raised eyebrow you received from the silent young man now behind you.

Aaron Hotchner, your new boss for the next week or so, lead you to a large room with a circular table sat in the middle. There were two other women, one blonde and one raven haired, and another bald man that glanced at you immediately after you entered. They smiled at you and trailed your steps to where you stood beside the unit chief in front of a large TV screen.

“Everyone, this is Agent Y/n L/n. She’ll be assisting us with the Becker case you’ve all been informed of. She’ll mainly be our translator and interpreter, but she’ll also be useful for cultural identifiers and anything that we wouldn’t notice otherwise.” 

You nodded along, never being a fan of introductions since you moved to America as a small child. 

“This is JJ, our liaison, Agent Emily Prentiss and Agent Derek Morgan.” 

The ladies smiled at you, in fact all of them did. They were surprisingly open to the fact you would be joining them, the fact made your shoulders loosen and a breath to be let out discreetly. 

Next, you were on a long plane flight to Maine with Agents you had known for little under two hours, conversing about victim profiles and motives. The table in front of the ladies and your boss was strewn with victim files and gruesome photos. And while you weren’t a stranger to the dangers and violence the job brought, you had gotten comfortable with only hearing about it and not seeing it. So you opted to hover around the table and stay silent, you weren’t a trained profiler after all, just a translator.  

There was a wave of cologne that disrupted your senses, causing you to angle your head back, only to be greeted by the tall doctor. 

You smiled softly, assuming the closeness was due to the aeroplane's arrangement. Also because you got the vibe that Spencer didn’t like you. 

“Are you okay? You seem uneasy,” he asked. It was the first time you heard his voice. And it was as adolescent as you imagined for someone so young, but it had a sophisticated edge to it, with a honey-like undertone. Finding things in voices as if they were perfumes was something you unconsciously started to do since working as a translator.

“I’m fine.” You grinned reassuringly, turning back to focus on the team’s findings. 

Spencer furrowed his eyebrows slightly and stepped away, sitting down beside Morgan who had taken a seat at the back. Morgan squinted at his friend, noticing the rare confusion splayed on his face as he stared in your direction. 

“What’s up? Pretty girl got your tongue?” Morgan removed his headphones with a cheeky smile displayed on his handsome face.

“For someone who specialises in languages she doesn’t talk much.” 

Morgan smirked, “Maybe not to you.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong though.” Spencer ripped his gaze off the back of your head.

“You’ve been staring at her since she walked through those doors. You were so distracted you didn’t even greet her this morning.” Morgan pointed out. Spencer tilted his head confused, a small blush creeping up his neck. “I watched the whole thing from the conference room, so did JJ and Emily.” 

The tall boy slumped in his chair and forced himself to look out of the plane’s window, avoiding a reply to Morgan as he knew it would only result in more teasing. You were physically attractive, everyone could see that, but the thing that caught Spencer’s attention was your intelligence. He was no stranger to being a polyglot, he learnt languages for fun, but you were simply next level. Morgan studied Spencer’s face for a second before raising his attention to your hovering state. “Agent Y/n L/n.” Morgan called, causing Spencer to widen his eyes and immediately adjust his slumped position in his plane seat. You turned your head in surprise, slightly confused why you would be needed anywhere else than the files you had been translating for the past two minutes. Your heels were silent against the carpeted floors, but Spencer could sense your presence anyways. 

“How many languages do you speak?” The stoic man asked, his eyes darting between you and the doctor below you. You were not short, your genes didn’t allow for it, but you had noticed you were only taller than JJ and Rossi in the team and it felt foreign to not tower over everyone. “Um, I speak 8 languages fluently, and 4 languages semi-fluently.” You stated, readying to turn back to assist the team before Morgan spoke up once again

“Did you know that pretty boy can speak Spanish and German?” 

Before Spencer could help himself, he corrected the man, “And Latin and Russian,” Spencer turned his head up to you, “But I can understand more.” 

You smiled, genuinely impressed and confused on how a man that young could learn that much. But to be fair, you were in the same boat. The nickname got your attention, locking it in the back of your mind to remind yourself that the people you were working with did in fact have senses of humour, and weren’t just heartless officers. There wasn’t any reason to think that though, as you had been cared for with respect and even Prentiss made a funny remark beforehand. It sort of felt like a family dinner you were intruding on. “That’s impressive, Doctor Reid.” You reply genuinely. 

“I mean it’s nothing compared to you though,” his voice was pitched slightly higher and his hands started motioning to nothing in particular, “your brain is constantly changing from high activity to low activity when you're translating from one language to another. Your language network, the lateral frontal lobe, is constantly lighting up and dimming down depending on what language you hear, ordinary people’s language networks only turn on and off.” 

Morgan smirked and glanced up at your intrigued and surprised expression. You nodded, a small blush coating the tips of your ears as you responded, “Thank you.” You didn’t really know what else to say, which is funny for someone who understands so many languages, so you simply smiled and turned back to the table. Spencer slumped again, watching you walk away and asking himself why he would inform a pretty girl about her own brain, when she most definitely already knows about it. 

“Don’t worry too much, Reid.” Morgan called, grabbing Spencer’s attention. The boy raised a brow, not understanding. “She digs it, I can tell. But she’s just like you, knows how to speak in a million ways and still doesn’t know how to small talk.” 

You landed without any more awkward interactions, and got introduced to some sheriffs in Maine, one of them giving you a tighter handshake than the rest and a stare that could only mean unpleasant things. It wasn't something sexist or creepy that lingered in his eyes, it was more like hatred. Spencer took the sheriff's attention away from you after noticing what the whole team did, and asked him to show him the records they kept at the precinct.

Emily Prentiss came up behind you and placed a hand on your upper arm, squeezing it like she understood what you had thought you'd seen. Out of everyone else in the team, she would understand the most.

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld

[suosgirl]

Helloooo! I was wondering if you are taking requests for Wind Breaker?

If yes, can I ask for a story or headcanons about Suo meeting and getting curious (and eventually falling for) a f.reader who is like a princess for Shishitoren?

In my head it would be funny to see Suo challenging and interacting with Choji and Togame (who are already threatening Suo to stay away from the reader). I mean, he can be kind of mean when he wants, and still wear a smile.😆

Thanks for hearing me out!

And let me say, I realllyyyy love the way you write!����

Shishitoren's Princess (& Her Guard Dog) | Hayato Suo x Reader

Word Count: 7471

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Shishitoren (literally most of them), Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama, Mitsuki Kiryu, Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nire

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers, ooc (definitely ooc sorry ah), angst, harassment, swearing, kissing, miscommunication – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: oh my goodness – I'm actually so sorry for how this took me (and how long this is ૮꒰◞ ˕ ◟ ྀི꒱ა). I loved loved loved this idea so much, and thank you for the sweetest words! I really hope this is somewhere in the ballpark of what you were requesting! Thank you again for the amazing idea! I love you!

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

Pretty, perfect, caring adorable you. With a smile that could heal any scratch and a heart that seemed to never run empty. You were the pride and joy of Shishitoren – their mascot in every sense. 

You knew everyone by name. If someone asked, you could name at least 5 things about each person from the top of your head. You could name their allergies, their likes and dislikes, and even their interests – all because you listened to them.

You were attentive and warm – quick to lend an ear if someone was having a bad day or offer advice if they asked.

And it was scary how well you could tell if they were in the dumps – it becomes a running joke that you have some kind of emotional superpower when it comes to them. It takes just one look, one look before you’re bringing them to a secluded corner and asking them if they’ve got something weighing on their minds.

You knew their personalities, knew their stories, knew their hearts. 

The only time anyone avoided you was when they knew they did something wrong – because they knew you’d be pulling them by the ear and scolding them. And, as much as some of them wanted to get mad, they just couldn’t bring themselves to – because having someone care for them so fiercely was a feeling that not many of them had ever experienced, and from the bottom of your heart you truly cared.

After every fight, they knew you’d be the one to patch them up. Bofurin had the townspeople, sure, but Shishitoren had you. You, who would set up tables in the Ori with every inch of space taken up by ointments, antiseptic spray, gauze – the works. Whatever injury they had, as long as not severe, was taken care of by you. 

If it was serious and required hospital attention, you were the one bringing them there – eyes sharp and tongue at the ready to yell at anyone who dared to treat them differently or deny services.

And these boys … they had the utmost respect for you. You, who had nothing but love to give, never expected a single thing back. You cared for them, genuinely, and saw them as your own brothers to fuss over and worry about and love. 

You were family – and honestly, Togame and Tomiyama were just glad to have met you after their fight with Bofurin. 

You’d moved to this side of town just a little after the whole thing, and when you’d gotten lost in the dark alleys with your phone on 1% and tears in your eyes, it was Tomiyama who walked you home. He’d talked your ear off the whole way, of course, but he was surprised at how you were able to keep up with him. You were actively responding to him, asking questions, keeping the conversation going – and Tomiyama liked that. 

And when you’re delivered safely to your front door, you ask if you can exchange contact info. His eyes light up, and he’s quickly saying yes and that he’d love to hang out with you again.

He doesn’t expect you to reach out to him the next day though, asking if you can give him a thank-you present for going out of his way the day before. 

And when you show up to the Ori, with a bag of assorted goodies in your hands, you’re met with more men than you could count, all with eyes staring wide at you.

They expect you to run away, honestly, because they know what they look like. They know that you’re probably a sweet girl, sure, but they were a gang – plain and simple. A gang working on reform, sure, but a gang nonetheless. So, if you were to drop your little goodie bag in fear and run for your life, well, it would probably be the most appropriate response.

Instead, what you do is gasp, point an accusatory finger at Tomiyama, and exclaim, “WHY didn’t you tell me that there would be more people here?”

You quickly hand him the bag, muttering out an “I’ll be back”, and in less than 30 minutes you’ve got your hands full with 5 more bags, packed to the brim with even more snacks.

With Togame, it takes just a little bit longer for him to warm up to you. Not that he doesn’t already like you – it’s just that he’s, well, a bit more reserved and a bit more quiet and observing (a lot more quiet if we’re comparing him to Tomiyama). 

It’s when, during a fleeting conversation, he mentions that he plays Go with the elderly men at the public bath – and he watches you perk up at his words. Immediately, you’re asking if it would be alright to play with him sometime, and while he’s hesitant, he ultimately says yes at the sight of your bright eyes and wide smile.

He admits that he thinks you’re just bluffing, until you actually plan a day to play, and now you’ve got him thinking that maybe you’re good? Maybe, you’re a secret Go prodigy or something? Maybe you’ve got a secret or two up your sleeve and –

He wipes the floor with you. Absolutely demolishes you. But you’re happy about it, laughing at the result, and he’s confused because you didn’t win? Did you … did you know how board games work?

You’re quick to tell him that you enjoyed it because you got to spend time with him, got to know who he is as a person because of how he played. 

You leave him standing on the street, a bottle of Ramune long forgotten in his hand (his prize for winning) and his mouth open in surprise.

And when you notice he’s not next to you anymore, you turn around with a smile on your face as you ask, “Don’t you feel that you know me a little bit better too?”

Yeah, they were glad that you got to see them as they were now, with hopes and dreams and emotions. They don’t dwell on the idea of you meeting them before then – they don’t want to. Because if they thought about it too long, they’d have their answer.

You deserved to be happy and healthy and protected. You, who filled a hole in Shishitoren that they didn’t even know existed. 

And now you were an irreplaceable part of their lives, so precious and so important that they began to understand Bofurin. They had you – someone that they would do anything in their power to protect – to keep safe from harm.

You were Shishitoren’s Princess.

After that, Tomiyama and Togame were stuck to you like glue. Always thinking about you, always concerned, always wondering where you were. 

You’re running late and they haven’t got a text letting them know why? They’re out on the streets, danger flashing in their eyes and prepared for the worst. However, when they see that you’ve been distracted by a stray cat on the road, all they do is let out a laugh and join your side. 

They hear you sniffling and see that your eyes are shining with tears? They’re immediately on you, asking who did this to you, with a promise to make them pay for it tenfold. “You can’t really beat up allergies,” you laugh, before sneezing into a tissue. Immediately, the Shishitoren boys are rounded up, their eyes focused and determined – to get you allergy medicine.

You were everything good in the world, bottled up into someone who could make even the rainiest days seem a bit more brighter and the hardest challenges a bit more bearable – and they didn’t want anyone infringing on their happiness.

So when Hayato Suo, from Bofurin, comes across you one fateful day – they’re absolutely livid. 

You hadn’t meant to cross over to their territory – truly. It’s just that Togame had mentioned that his favorite Ramune flavor had been out since last night, and Tomiyama had been going on and on about this new snack that just wasn’t available at the usual corner store that you guys frequented, so you found yourself with a mission on your mind and your wallet in your hand.

And honestly, you loved them, you did, but the way that they treated you like a delicate little flower sometimes felt a bit too stuffy.

What? Did they think you just patched people up for fun? That you knew how to medically treat someone just short of a nurse because it was your hobby?

You’re too absorbed in your thoughts to realize where the directions on your phone are taking you until you’ve already passed the train crossing border that connects Bofurin’s and Shishitoren’s territory. You’re spit out onto a street that you’ve never seen before, but you shrug it off.

When you find the corner store, you make quick work of your shopping list, even grabbing some items for yourself, before you’re out the door.

It’s when you’ve barely taken a few steps down the street that you feel it – the staring on the back of your head.

While you were in the store, you’d felt their eyes on you, but you’d ignored it, hoping that it was just a fleeting moment of curiosity. Now, you see that it was the eyes of a predator stalking their prey.

You pause, before quickly taking out your phone and sending a quick text to Togame and Tomiyama – they just need one small clue and they can fill in the rest – so you send your location. 

And when you finally turn to face your stalker, you snap a photo of their face. For insurance, you assure yourself. Just in case. 

He’s taller than you, with a smirk on his face and his hands in his pockets. You feel uneasy at his presence, and you look up and down the street to see that no one’s around.

Damnit damnit damnit. 

“You’re really pretty, totally my type. Could I get your contact information?” he’s asking, but the tone that he’s saying it in doesn’t leave any room for objection.

“No,” you reply, simple and straight to the point. Then, you stay standing there, and you wait. 

“Never turn your back on an enemy.”

Togame had said this briefly, once, while the both of you were watching everyone spar.

When the man takes a step forward, you take one back, maintaining the distance between you and him.

“Oh come on – it’s just your number. Don’t make this such a big deal.”

He’s holding himself back and you can see it. You can see the way his hands are twitching by his sides now and the way his breathing is starting to speed up.

“Always keep an eye on your opponent~! You wouldn’t wanna miss anything!”

Tomiyama’s words run through your mind next, and you will yourself to maintain your facade.

You’re starting to get just the slightest bit worried now, though. It really shouldn’t be too much longer, you think. Any minute now. 

But a minute passes by, Togame and Choji aren’t here, and the guy’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist so tightly that it’s starting to throb.

“Please – leave me alone!” you yell out, but it’s going through one ear and out the other. He’s smiling down, dark and sinister, and it’s then that you remember something so crucial that you can’t believe you forgot it.

“Kick them, um, down there. It’ll hurt, a lot. But that’s a last resort type of move, alright princess?”

Those self-defense lessons are paying off, Togame. 

You make a mental note to thank him when he gets here.

You kick the man, hard, and when he releases your arm you step back as fast as you can, but – 

The plastic bag you had once held in your hand, now filled with the sloshing liquid and the broken glass of Togame’s Ramune bottle, causes you to slip.

Your hands shoot out and you close your eyes in anticipation of the fall that never comes because strong, warm arms are holding you up.

You let out a sigh of relief – finally. You’re brought to stand, but before those hands can leave your body, you’re swiftly grabbing them to wrap around your waist and leaning your head on their chest.

“Geez, took you guys long enough –”

The sight of a black jacket cuts you off. Black, with green embroidery.

You quickly push yourself off, eyes wide and cheeks red because you had just initiated a very intimate hug with someone who was a complete stranger.

“I-I’m so sorry! Oh my gosh – I thought you were someone else!” you blurt out, hands covering your mouth – and he looks as caught off guard as you are.

His eye is wide, mouth open just the tiniest bit, and – he’s cute.

“Wow, I don’t get thanked like that too often,” he smiles, and you’re mortified at his playful reaction.

“I –,” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he’s got a hand on your shoulder, quickly cutting you off.

You look up at him, and the smile’s still there, but it’s different now – it’s frightening.

“Would you mind stepping to the side for me? It seems some people just don’t know when to quit.”

You hear shuffling behind you, and you’re quickly brought back to the situation at hand. Nodding, you get out of his way, and it’s as soon as you step past him that you hear a sickening thud and a groan of pain.

When you turn, you’re relieved to see that the man who’d been harassing you is on the ground, and if you were to guess, probably out cold.

“Wow… You made quick work of him,” you don’t try to hide the awe in your voice and Suo finds it both endearing and concerning that you’re praising him.

Concerning mainly because, well, you don’t seem to be the type to leisurely enjoy street fights. 

And now you’re right in front of him, inspecting his face and body to make sure there aren’t any cuts that need to be treated or any injuries that need tending.

It’s second nature at this point — ingrained in your body and soul.

Cute, he thinks, very cute that she thinks he touched me.

“Do you see anything wrong, love?” he jests, enjoying the way you’re so diligently scanning him from head to toe.

“No, I don’t think—”

You are, once again, mortified by his teasing. No one at Shishitoren spoke to you like this, and sure they called you Princess, but to you, it held the same value as sister or friend.

“S-sorry, force of habit… ah, thank you for saving me! I sent my friends a message but —”

You’re cut off by the sounds of two distinct voices yelling "Princess", and Suo’s quick to prepare himself for another fight.

However, when he sees Togame and Tomiyama run around the corner with panic in their eyes and desperation in their voices, he’s just confused.

And when they spot the two of you, with an unconscious body on the ground, it gets even more confusing. Because why are they walking over here and why do they have scowls on their face and —

“Princess, what were you thinking?”

Tomiyama and Togame are all over you, Togame’s hand gently grasping your chin to move your face from side to side, and Tomiyama’s got his hand on your wrist, softly thumbing at the bruised skin.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.”

Suo’s observing all of this, and he’s trying to rack his brain for any information about you. God, he really wished Nirei was here right now.

He’s never heard that name before or seen your face, so this must be a recent development. But with the way they’re fretting over you, you’d think that you’d all been childhood friends or something because the way that they’re worrying over you is definitely not normal.

You try to push their hands away from you, embarrassed that you have an audience, but they don’t let up so all you’re able to do is grumble and huff as they inspect you from head to toe.

“... He hurt you,” Tomiyama whispers, and you grab his wrist before he starts stalking toward the body on the floor.

“It’s okay um – oh, I don’t know your name, but he helped me out! Everything’s fine – really! Please, let’s calm down,” you plead, and all it takes is one look at your anxious face for the both of them to ease up.

Now, Suo really wants to understand.

“Suo … thanks for protecting her. This idiot didn’t tell us she was crossing over into your territory. It’s our fault, sorry,” Togame explains, one hand scratching the back of his neck and the other draped over your shoulders.

Suo takes a moment to respond. Who would he be, after all, if not an instigator?

Because — who were you? You – who could turn the Shishitoren leader and his second in command into mere puppies with your sweet voice. You — who had them running like their lives depended on it. 

“Ah, I’d save a sweet girl like her any day,” Suo says, testing the waters, and he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for.

Togame and Tomiyama stiffen up beside you, as you gasp in surprise at his words. 

And suddenly, there’s a shift in the air – and it’s deadly.

You sense it, of course, because who wouldn’t be able to feel the heightened electricity and the low hum of buzzing coming from Togame’s and Tomiyama’s chests?

And you, ever the de-escalating expert, quickly blurt out, “Ah, wait! I need to go back to the store! Give me like 5 minutes!”

Before they can get a “no” out, you’re already out of their grasp and beelining it for the convenience store.

It’s silent for a moment, with just Suo, Tomiyama, and Togame looking at one another.

Finally, Togame breaks the silence.

“Look, Sakura’s a friend –”

“And Ume-chan too!” Tomiyama chimes in.

 “ – and I hope we’re not stepping on your toes here but don’t get any ideas.”

Suo knows he should stop. He should probably apologize, and let them know it’s not what they think. That they’ve got it all wrong. But … he really can’t help it – not with the way that they’re hissing at him like cats. It’s adorable – and you’re adorable.

He was never really good with holding back his tongue, anyway.

“I think she can make her own decisions, don’t you?”

Togame and Tomiyama do not take kindly to his words, and so it begins – a passive-aggressive verbal war.

“Ha, right. It’s been fun, eye-patch-kun, but we really oughta take her back home. You know, so that we can patch her up,” Togame says, and though there's a smile on his face, Suo understands the underlying message behind his words.

She got hurt in your territory, under your patrol.

Suo smiles back at him.

“Ah, sorry! I wasn’t quick enough to save her, but I’m glad I was able to sort this out before things got out of hand,” Suo replies.

All you guys do is blow things up out of proportion – with violence.

“If we’d been here, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“Hm. But you probably would’ve gone overboard.”

“Watch it –”

“Ah, sorry!”

It’s when Tomiyama finally opens his mouth that Suo realizes he’s been uncharacteristically quiet, and when they make eye contact, Suo’s smile deepens – because Tomiyama looked like he was ready to maul Suo into pieces, like a true Lion.

“Ume-chan and Furin are our friends,” he says, eyes darkening with every word, “but she’s our family – I think it’s best if you stand down.”

It’s at that moment that you come racing back towards them, your hands full of goodies and a grin on your face as you exclaim, “I got it! I got it!”

You hand Togame his Ramune, Tomiyama his snack, and … you hand Suo bottled tea.

“Sorry, um, I wasn’t too sure what you liked – but this is my favorite drink! Ah, um, if you don’t like it … Suo … I won’t be hurt. But you strike me as a tea lover so –”

You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands wringing behind your back as you ramble and Suo can’t help the sweet smile and the small laugh that escapes his lips before thanking you.

And as soon as he’s done, you’re being whisked away back to your territory – back to your home.

As you walk through the passing, with Tomiyama’s arm intertwined with yours and Togame’s arm draped over your shoulders, you briefly turn around, just to catch one more glance of Suo.

He’s standing there, smiling as he raises his hand to wave at you. You smile back at him with a glossy look in your eyes before Togame softly flicks your forehead.

Your attention is on Togame now, pouty and dejected, before turning your head indignantly as you begin to lecture him about how you’re supposed to thank someone when they help you, and that it’s the nice thing to do.

In the heat of your lecture, you miss the way that Tomiyama and Togame also turn back to look at Suo.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Suo swears he can see their eyes glinting, and his smile only deepens. 

Their eyes, daring and territorial, only say one thing.

Ours. Ours. Ours. 

He had to admit, he wasn’t expecting this turn of events but he was intrigued now. 

And, it’s only after the three of you disappear that he realizes he never learned your name – your real name.

So, when he volunteers to take over the patrol where the Furin territory ends and the Shishitoren territory starts, who can blame him?

What Suo doesn’t know, though, is that after this little incident, you’re permanently banned from walking alone ever again.

(Of course, you’re not actually banned. But, you are given a scolding afterward – which, in your eyes, is rich coming from Togame and Tomiyama, but sure, whatever.)

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

The next time Suo sees you, it’s when he least expects it. 

You’re in Bofurin territory, with a small first-aid kit on your lap as you tend to the child in front of you. You’re smiling at the sniffling little boy as you wrap some gauze around his ankle, your fingers adept and swift, as if you’d done this countless times before.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it? You’re so strong!”

You ask him how it feels, and the little boy beams up at you, the tears in his eyes long gone and instead replaced with immense gratitude.

You smile down at him, playfully scolding him to be more careful as you pat his head softly.

And then Suo sees you hand him a lollipop — a lollipop — and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

So, really, can you blame him for sneaking up behind you and whispering into your ear?

“What brings you to Bofurin territory, princess?”

You yelp in surprise, before turning around so fast that Suo worries if you gave yourself whiplash.

Once your blush has gone down and the surprise of seeing him wears off, you explain that you’re here to get some bread for Tomiyama from the Cactus bakery.

He’d been saying that he wanted fresh bread, but there weren’t any in Shishitoren that you knew of. And as soon as he mentioned the Cactus’s Anpan over on Bofurin's side of the tunnel, well, who could blame you for taking that opportunity to not only do something for him but also for yourself?

Which, of course, was to hopefully run into Suo.

“He sent you all the way over here to pick up bread for him?”

“Hm? No, of course not. This is a surprise for him!”

“I see – I was wondering why you didn’t have your guard dogs around…”

“My guard dogs?”

“Oh!” you laugh and Suo thinks it’s the most pleasant sound he’s heard in his life.

“You mean Tomiyama and Togame? No, they don’t know I’m here. It wouldn’t really be a surprise if they knew, right?”

Suo’s starting to see it now – why they care for you so much. But he wants to know more, so he asks about the kid you were tending to.

“Ah — I saw him playing with some kids and he took a nasty fall. I didn’t think it was right to let him go home without care, so I patched him up. I hope that’s okay?”

Suo finds that he really likes talking to you. He likes how expressive you are, how kind you are, and how thoughtful you are. And he finally learns your name. He likes that about you too – it’s cute.

So, naturally, he offers to escort you to Cactus – purely just to keep an eye on you, he convinces himself.

And when he escorts you back to the border, all your goodies in one hand and his arm in the other, well – 

He doesn’t care enough to find justification for his actions. He just really liked you – plain and simple.

When you let go of his arm, he’s already grieving the feeling of your body pressed to his side. 

You were warm, soft, and he’s sure that if he ever got the chance to taste your lips, sweet.

“Let’s exchange contact information! That way, you can be my guard dog when I’m here,” you say as you pull out your phone, and Suo’s so so glad that he ran into you today.

When he adds your contact to his phone, he puts you down as Princess.

When you add his contact to yours, you put him down as Guard Dog. 

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

After that, you and Suo try to meet up. But… well…

You don’t see the point in trying to hide it. You were, after all, your own person. You could think for yourself, make decisions for yourself, and speak up for yourself. You were so open to loving and the Shishitoren boys knew this – so why should you hide it?

And when you had something on your mind, you were determined to make it happen. So, you don’t see why it would be any different with Suo. You had met him twice now, and you wanted to keep seeing him. To keep talking to him. To maybe even date him.

But to Shishitoren, this was equivalent to losing you – and they could never let that happen.

So Shishitoren never lets you see him – and it’s not like they’re barricading you inside the Ori or blocking the entrance to the border (though, they’ll admit that the thoughts crossed their mind in one way or the other).

No. They do it in a way that they know will make you stay with them – by acting like big babies.

The first to fall was Arima – 

You’re about to leave to meet up with Suo when Arima runs into the Ori, cries of pain leaving his lips as he whines at how much it hurts. You drop your bag immediately, texting Suo a panicked text about how something came up and that you’re sorry but you’ve gotta cancel today. 

You have Arima sit down, all your supplies laid out next to you as you ask him what happened and – 

It’s a paper cut.

But he’s babbling about how deep it is and how much it stings and it takes forever to just disinfect it and wrap a bandage around it before you realize that half the day’s just flew by for a minor injury.

Second was Kanuma – when he got a bad haircut.

Third was Sako – when he suddenly, out of nowhere, began asking you for advice about how you would approach someone who you used to look up to but lost respect for, who you vowed to fight and win against, only to lose against them and have them apologize to you (you, obviously, struggled with what advice you could even give him).

Fourth was Tomiyama – when he lost his favorite pair of sneakers.

Fifth was Togame – when he lost an eating challenge for the first time.

“It’s for the good of Shishitoren,” they say as they prepare the next victim.

Eventually, you find yourself tending to almost all of Shishitoren’s wounds, whether physical or emotional, and you just can’t believe that they’re fighting against you and Suo so hard.

But, in between all of that, you and Suo still manage to sneak in hushed phone calls and sweet texts.

Always asking about how the other’s doing, always talking about how your day went. He looks forward to it, he realizes, laying in bed as he hears you start to slur the ends of your words, drifting off into sleep.

And you send him photos all the time – it could be of a cat you came across while on the way to the Ori, or a drink that you tried that you liked – and with each text, with each phone call, Suo finds himself becoming smitten with you. 

You, who would remind him to drink water and to at least eat something small to get through the day. You, who had perfect memory and would follow up with the things that he’d talked about days ago, just because you were interested and curious (he’d mentioned that there was a tea spot that he frequented in Makochi, and it only took a day or two later for you to bring it up again, this time with all sorts of questions and comments like “I looked at what they serve! Which one’s your favorite?” and “I’d love to go there with you sometime, Suo – if I ever get the chance”. He’d only said the name of this tea shop once, but you remembered). 

And sweet, kind, loving you – who seemed to know whenever he had a particularly tough day. You were so attentive to him, which was surprising because all your interactions were never in person, but it seemed that you could understand his mood just based on the extra second it took for him to answer the phone or the way he responded to your text. And the thing was that Suo was great at masking his emotions – an expert, even. But you, who could just sense these things about other people, were giving him the chance to open up if he so chose to. You never pressed, never battered him for an answer. Just a simple – “I feel like there’s something on your mind, but if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay! Just know that if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be there for you Suo.”

And, above all, you never stop trying. You never stop trying to escape the clutches of Shishitoren to see him – though you apologize every time your plans get thwarted as if you both weren’t expecting the same outcome.

But Suo doesn’t see you again, for months – not until a huge fight breaks out, and you’re honestly the last one he expects to see rushing onto the aftermath of the battlefield with a backpack filled to the brim with medical supplies and a determined look on your face.

They didn’t know Shishitoren was going to get involved and fight alongside them, didn’t know that the aftermath was going to be this bad. But if Suo had known that you’d be running to meet everyone afterwards, well – 

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

He sees you a mile away, and he’s so relieved that you’re not hurt. That you’re up and moving. That you’re here. But he’s also surprised and caught off guard because – why were you here?

It’s then that he sees your bag, sees the way that you’ve got your hair up and out of your face, and the way that you’re scanning everyone up and down so fast that your eyes never stop moving. 

My little nurse, Suo thinks, rushing to the injured like the sweet princess she is.

Little did you know that as he was fighting, there were only 3 things revolving through his mind – Bofurin, Makochi, and you. He fought to protect those 3 things that were so very dear to his heart, and to be greeted with the sight of you after winning? Well, it couldn’t be anything less but a sign of his hard work. A reward, if you will.

He sees you run up to Umemiya, serious and purposeful, as you open your mouth and wait for a response. Umemiya, though very confused, gives you an answer that you seem satisfied with because you nod, then thank him, and now you’re running towards Suo, and you make eye contact, and he can’t wait for you to dote after him and take care of him and – 

You smile at him, scan his body, nod –  and walk right past him. You never stopped for him, actually. You just kept moving. Just kept walking.

And Suo just watches – he watches as you make your way over to where Shishitoren is laid out, watches as they all let out a sigh of relief when they see you safe and unharmed, watches as they start talking animatedly to you as you start setting up for aid.

And you’re standing there with a pained look in your eyes as you nod at their words halfheartedly, more focused on the injuries that they’re sporting on their bodies than the words coming out of their mouths. You’re going from person to person as fast as you can, and although Suo can’t hear you, he can read your lips as you tell every single person – “I’m here now. It’s okay. Thank you for fighting. I’ll take care of you.”

He watches as you get to Tomiyama and Togame, and sees the way your eyes start to water as they pat your head and tell you that they’re fine – even though you have eyes, you can see how hard they’ve fought. Instead, they’re fondly thanking you for coming all this way just to take care of them.

And suddenly, everything got a bit too real for Suo. A bit too scary.

Because he didn’t realize how hard he’d fallen for you, in between those two fateful meetings, the constant late-night phone calls, and the never-ending texts.

It hits Suo like a train. He wanted to be the one that you search for in the crowd. He wanted to be the one that you’re fussing over. He wanted you to patch him up. He wanted you.

He was in love with you.

And he shuts down – completely.

He goes silent, uncharacteristically so, to the point that Sakura and Nirei are starting to get worried.

“What’s wrong, Suo-san?”

“Suo, what’s the matter with you?”

It goes through one ear and out the other – no response, no indication that he’s even present at the moment.

It’s when you’re patching up the last member of Shishitoren that you feel the heat of an eye on you – and your body reacts before your mind can.

Suo’s name is the only thing running through your mind as you finish up as fast as you can – and you’re off.

You’re making your way to where all of Bofurin is sitting, just barely slipping out of the grasps of the Shishitoren boys.

It’s Togame, with his long limbs, who reaches out and puts a hand on your shoulder and it’s Tomiyama, with his fast reflexes, who has your hand in his.

“Princess, no–”

“Let me find Suo.”

“But you don’t even –”

“Choji, Jo – let me go.”

They hesitate. You’d never spoken to them like this before. Never used their first names before. Never been so cold before.

But they weren’t fools. Even if you tried to hide it, they’d seen the way you sneaked off to talk to him or the way you thought you were hiding your phone when you were responding to him. Anytime they’d bring something up that had even an inkling to do with Suo, you were excitedly adding in your input – all while stumbling over your words as you tried to be mysterious. 

(They’d done a test, actually. All they did was bring up the word tea and you were fighting for your life as you kept accidentally saying Suo’s name when talking about your friend. 

“Ah, Su– AH, I mean, my friend really likes this type of tea.”

“Oh! That’s S– my friend's favorite place in Makochi!”

They didn’t have the heart to tell you because, well – you really sucked at lying.)

And they realize, with heavy hearts, that you were never theirs to lock up in the Ori. You were so kind, so lovable, so sweet, because that’s just who you are as a person. 

You were protected, sure, and healthy, sure, but you weren’t happy.

You, who were the embodiment of everything that Shishitoren was working to protect, had made a choice and they weren’t respecting it the way that you respected them – and they were being, well, selfish.

And when they finally let you go, you sigh in relief. Making your way over to where Suo’s sitting, you yell out over your shoulder, with so much spite, so much anger, and so much love – 

“You act like I’m never coming back – stop whining like puppies!”

Togame’s and Tomiyama’s eyes widen in shock before they both laugh lightly at your words in disbelief.

You really knew how to scold them.

“... she’s talking about you.”

“... nah, she’s definitely talking about you.”

🫧𓇼𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐

When you made your way over to Suo, you were met with guarded and curious stares from all of Bofurin. Too focused and too determined, you brush it off. You knew about the fight that they had with Shishitoren, sure, but you thought that they had patched everything up? And Shishitoren had fought with them for this big battle, so why the curiosity?

If only you knew the real reason everyone was staring at you.

Instead, you find yourself running past all of them with Suo’s name falling from your lips, and when you see him, he doesn’t respond.

You pause, dejected, before repeating his name.

No response. 

Now you’re worried – and scared.

You recognize Sakura and Nirei, based on how Suo had described them briefly, and you immediately begin asking them what happened.

“Sakura, Nirei – is Suo okay? Did he get hurt? Does he need first aid?”

You’re met with silence – and shock.

“H-huh? Do we know you?”

“U-umm – sorry, have we met before?”

You pause at their response, looking at them confused.

You blink once, then twice, then three times – before glancing at Suo.

Unresponsive and unperturbed.

You introduce yourself slowly, giving Sakura and Nirei the chance to remember you – because they must’ve heard your name at least once, right?

They hadn’t.

And now you’re standing there with hundreds of eyes on you, as you come to terms with the fact that maybe … maybe you’d been wrong this whole time.

You clear your throat before timidly asking a question that you fear you already know the answer to.

“Did he um… did he not tell you about me? Uh… about us?”

And suddenly – everything goes to shit.

Shishitoren rises up in arms, walking over to where you are because why did you look so confused and why was Suo ignoring their beloved princess – 

All of Bofurin is staring at you with their mouths wide open, processing the words you’ve just said –

Sakura’s spluttering, desperately trying to form words as he continues to just point back and forth from you to Suo with shaky hands – 

Nirei’s got his notebook in his hand, flipping through it like a madman because how could he miss something like this, and had Suo ever talked about you? – 

Suo’s unresponsive, still – 

And then, to top it all off, Kiryu gasps because he’s finally solved it. He’d seen a text on Suo’s phone, so brief and so quick, but he was sure that the person Suo was texting was – 

“Oh! You’re the one he’s been texting! You’re Princess!”

At Kiryu’s words, you snap. 

And no one, not even Togame and Tomiyama, had ever seen you this angry, this upset, this livid.

You weren’t expecting him to go around screaming your name all over Makochi, but what you did expect was at the very least maybe his friends to know. Was that so absurd? You never tried to hide your feelings for Suo from Shishitoren (They tried so hard to stop it) so why wasn’t it reciprocated? Did he not feel the same way? Had you looked too deep into his actions and created a fantasy in your mind? Did you not really know him as well as you thought? 

Or worse – had he been toying with you? 

Oh, you were pissed – and poor Suo didn’t have a clue.

You go to stand in front of him, eerily calm and sickeningly sweet as you call his name one more time.

“Hayato Suo.”

Now that – that brings him back to his senses. You watch him blink in succession as he grounds himself, before his eye darts to you, to Furin, to Shishitoren – and he quickly puts the pieces together before letting out a stiff laugh.

“Ah – I was hoping to introduce you properly to everyon–”

“Am I a joke to you, Hayato?”

Suo freezes at your words. 

How could you, who had unknowingly wormed your way into his heavily guarded heart, be a joke?

But he realizes now – and he feels, for one of the few times in his life, stupid.

Because you love with your heart on your sleeve, and Suo loves with his heart tucked away.

And really, Suo should’ve known, because you’re you — you who gave Shishitoren something to protect and to hold close to their hearts, safe from danger and harm’s way.

You press on, fighting through the anger and the embarrassment and the fear you feel rising inside of you.

“Tell me Hayato, answer me. Was I? Hm? Did you have fun?”

“No, I –”

“Every call, every text – did that mean nothing to you? Was I just being delusional?”

“Wait I –”

You’re so close to him now, softly jabbing your finger into his chest as your words begin to get more and more shaky.

“Do you feel powerful, Hayato? Making a Shishitoren girl fall in love with you–”

You stop yourself, teary-eyed and vulnerable, and you feel so stupid. Because what hurts more than anything is giving someone all your love, all your time, all your energy – all for it to have been for nothing. You thought he felt the same, truly. But now? All you wanted was to walk away from all of this, walk away from Bofurin, and never ever look back.

He grabs your hand, desperately, as your words sink in. He wants to – no, needs to make sure that he’s not just hearing things. That he’s not just imagining it.

“You … love me?”

You pause, taking the chance to actually look at him. You see hope on his face, and you furrow your eyebrows in response.

“... is this another joke? Of course, I love you, you idiot. You would’ve been the first one I ran to but your leader said you guys were all patched up already so I –”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Umemiya, who shrivels under the attention and wordlessly mouths an “I didn’t know!”

But your eyes are only on Suo’s, and Suo’s is only on yours.

And Suo lets you see him, truly see him, for who he is. He doesn’t shy away from your stare, doesn't put on a mask, doesn’t push his feelings into the box that’s been his safe haven for so many years. 

Your eyes flicker with uncertainty and fear, but you convince yourself to try one more time. Just one last time. 

“Hayato Suo, I really do love you,” you whisper, so slowly, so hesitantly, so scared.

Then, with everyone’s eyes on the both of you, Suo slides one hand to the small of your back, and the other to cradle your face.

He wanted to learn how to love with his heart on his sleeve – just like you.

“… again.”

“… I lov—”

His lips cut you off, and honestly, you’re not even mad. Not when he’s pulling you flush to his body, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, and your fingers grasping at the collar of his jacket.

Black, with green embroidery.

“I love you, too – but I’m afraid there’s too many eyes here for me to show you how deeply I feel for you, Princess – I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Dazed, all you can manage is a soft nod and a flutter of your eyelashes before pulling his lips back to yours.

Suo smiles into the kiss. He was right, you were as sweet as he thought you’d be.

[heyjudeb]

I'm proud of you - Jude Bellingham

Summary: Comforting sad and defeated Jude after England's loss. Warning: Sad moment, comforting Words: <1k

The referee blows the final whistle.

It was over. England lost. It all happened too quickly. Spain scoring in the last minutes didn't even give us time to process the situation.

I was sitting in the stands with Jude's family. We all shed a tear once the Spanish players started celebrating. Seeing Jude go off to the bench and kick something was a heartbreaking yet scary sight for me. Instantly, I knew that was going to be a sight for the media.

He's not like that at all. He just really wanted this win. With people being all over him, critiquing him, he really wanted to prove them wrong, to make England proud. I couldn't be more proud of him, though. He achieved amazing things in this competition.

As I watched him from afar, I wished I could just run down and hold him, tell him it was okay. I knew how much he had invested in this tournament, how much he had sacrificed. His dedication and his passio were the qualities that made him extraordinary. Those were the reasons why I fell in love with him.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to be closer to him, I excused myself from his family and made my way down to the lower stands, closer to the field. As I approached the edge, I saw Jude pacing back and forth, his frustration evident in every step. When he finally noticed me, our eyes locked. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

With his help, I crossed the barrier and immediately fell into his arms, holding his head tightly into my neck. I could feel him shaking from all the emotions he was going through.

"I messed up," he muttered, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

"No, you didn't," I said firmly, my hand gently running through his hair. "You were incredible, baby. You gave it your all." He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with tears. "It wasn't enough. It wasn't fucking enough." "Hey," I cupped his face gently, putting my forehead against his. "Listen to me. You were amazing out there. You fought so hard, and everyone saw it."

He didn't know what to say. I could see he wanted to let go of everything he was feeling, but the words wouldn't come.

"Just stay calm, baby," I tried to comfort him, reminding him that losing is part of the game and keeping his composure is important. "You can use this to come back even stronger."

I knew my words might not have a big impact on him in that moment. It was all still raw and fresh for him, so I simply held him tighter in my arms. He pulled back slightly, his eyes still glistening. "I have to go, baby. They're going to do the ceremony."

"I know," I said softly. He kissed my forehead.

"I'll meet you afterwards," I told him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He nodded, giving me one last look before turning and walking towards his teammates. As I walked up the stands to where his family was, I felt a mix of pride and heartache.

After England had their moment, Jude walked up to us and hugged his family. They all expressed how proud they were of him, trying not to show any sadness in front of him.

He sat down with his head low. I gently lifted his chin, earning a small, faint smile from him.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you guys," he managed to say to them.

I sat on his lap, holding him close to my chest. It pained me to see him like this, unable to erase his sadness.

"You never disappoint us, Jude," his mom reassured him, holding his hand tightly.

I arrived at my hotel room feeling exhausted and heartbroken for Jude. He had to return to the hotel with the team. There was nothing I wanted more than to have him in my arms and try to ease his sadness, even just a little. I was about to get into bed after finishing my nighttime routine when I heard a faint knock on the door. I opened it to find Jude standing there, his shoulders slumped and a tired look on his face. "They told me it's okay," he said quickly, grabbing my hand and leading me to the bed.

He took off his shirt and sweatpants and collapsed onto the bed, pulling me with him. His head immediately rested on my chest as he hugged me tightly.

"It's going to be okay, baby," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his head and kissing his forehead repeatedly. "These bad feelings will pass, trust me."

I ran my fingers through his hair, knowing it helped him relax and fall asleep. I kept kissing his forehead and cuddling him until I felt his grip around my waist loosen slightly, indicating he had fallen asleep.

"You'll always be my champion, baby," I whispered softly." I love you so much, Jude Bellingham."

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk {2}

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1 // part 2 // part 3

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

Singapore 2024

So here you were, the Singapore GP. The past 5 days were eventful to say the least. Your body was covered in love bites from each boy, there was no telling who gave which. Apparently the entire grid and the wags knew, which helped them cover up to the media. You walked in with Lando and Oscar, laughing at a stupid joke Lando said. To anyone besides the drivers, it was a very fun friend group, but you were sure it would stir something up. “Hello, hello, hello.” You waved with a large smile at the camera. “We don’t usually do evening walks do we? But Singapore is the beginning of the night races so get used to it…” The track walk and the weekend went just as planned. During that weekend you met Max Fewtrell for the first time. It was very scary for you. This was someone Lando had grown up with, someone he had chosen to be one of the important people in his life, and you knew how this could look to an outsider- an F1 creator dating not one, but two, of the most prized drivers in the sport. But you two immediately hit it off. “I just know Oscar is enjoying not being the only one having to handle his mess.” He laughed as you guys watched Free Practise. “It’s not even the mess though, Max, it’s the food!...”

The entire weekend was looking favorable for McLaren, and then when Lando kept his position into the first lap, you knew it was game over, another McLaren win was pending. And right you were. “Lando Norris can stop hearing about his starts, and start hearing about his finishes! For the third time Lando Norris takes the chequered flag…”

You bounced up and down with Max as Lando screamed into the radio. “That's a double podium finish for McLaren!” You screamed and he laughed with you before giving you a hug. “They’ll want to see you.” He told her and she shook her head. “Too much attention, they’ll see us after.” She said not wanting to leave Max behind.

The music thumps through the club you all decided to go to after you finished at the track, vibrating the floors as colorful lights flash across the crowded room. Lando, Oscar, and you move through the throng of people, your body already buzzing with the high of celebration. Lando’s win had electrified the night, and the three of you are ready to let loose—carefully.

Lando’s arm stays draped over your shoulder as you make your way to a private booth near the dance floor, Oscar trailing closely behind. 

Around the booth, the other drivers and their girlfriends are scattered—Carlos and Rebecca, Max who was running solo, Charles and Alexandra, Pierre and Kika—all laughing and cheering. The energy is high, but there’s an unspoken understanding between them. They know. “I would say cheers to Lando’s amazing race-” Carlos started, “but you only won because of her.” Lando and Oscar shook their heads as everyone around you laughed.

You laughed too, cheeks heating as Lando pulls you closer. "You’re not wrong," he teases, brushing a quick, casual kiss against your temple. It’s brief enough to pass as friendly, but the way your heart skips betrays its meaning. Oscar slides in on your other side, his hand finding your knee under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze, hidden by the dim lighting and shadows.

They’re subtle but deliberate, their touches igniting sparks that make your heart race. The conversation swirls around you, but the trio only has eyes for each other. When the music shifts to something slower and sultry, Lando tugs your hand. "Dance with me," he says, voice low and irresistible.

You follow him onto the dance floor, Oscar not far behind. Lando’s hands find your waist, pulling you against him as your bodies move in sync. Oscar presses in from behind, his chest warm against your back as his fingers brush your arm, sending a thrill down your spine. It’s intoxicating—the heat, the music, the feel of both their bodies surrounding you.

But you have to be careful. Lando shifts slightly, turning you just enough to keep you shielded from prying eyes, and Oscar’s touch drifts away whenever someone looks too closely. The tension grows with every near-miss, every stolen glance, and every lingering brush of fingertips.

Lando leans in, his breath hot against your ear. "You’re ours tonight," he murmurs, voice rough with desire. Your pulse quickens as Oscar’s lips skim your shoulder—quick, subtle, and hidden in the dim lights—adding to the heat coiling low in your stomach.

The three of you move as one, but always just discreet enough to keep your secret. The world blurs around you—flashing lights, the beat of the bass, laughter from your friends at the booth. None of it matters. All you can feel is the heat of their touches, the fire in their eyes, and the promise of what the rest of the night will hold.

f1gossipofficial

liked by user45 and others

f1gossipofficcial The papaya boys went out to celebrate last night with other drivers as well as their girlfriends, but pictures show the papaya boys very close with each other. This comes after a recent video McLaren uploaded where Oscar and Lando were seen holding hands at one point and being very touchy… 

user45 oh this is crazy

user67 how do papaya rules work now’

user18 they had a good time last night

user4 how about we stay out of there lives and not dissect and try to out people who clearly don’t want to be outed

user68 landoscar was too good to be fake

user49 i for sure thought one of themm was going to get with Y/N

user23 i thought it was Lando user90 i thought it was Oscar user62 am i crazy for saying both user23 user62 yes user49 user62yes user90 user62 yes

“This sucks.” Oscar said into her neck. They were at the airport saying goodbye because they wouldn’t see each other for another month. “I know, I’m sorry love.” You giggled softly at his dramatics. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, finger scratching the strands of hair at the top of his neck. You looked at Lando who watched the scene unfold. Oscar wasn’t much of a showy person, so seeing him show anything they never took for granted. 

“Osc, you okay?” Lando asked seeing his shoulders raise and then drop deeply. “I just feel so complete with her here, I don’t like when she isn’t.” He told his boyfriend who rubbed his back. He finally pulled off letting Lando hug you around your waist lifting you up. “Gonna miss you baby.” he said kissing your cheek knowing people were around. “I’ll miss you both so much. But we’ve done it before right? Osc you’ll see your family. Lan you’re going to Portugal with Max. We’ll al be so busy, it won’t feel like a month will it?”

Lando and Oscar nodded holding onto each other. You checked your RM watch, one the duo had gotten for you this previous weekend. “Time to go, babies.” you sighed. They scooped you into one big hug. “See you soon.” You kissed both of their cheeks before they walked off to their own gate, leaving you at yours. 

The month at home was supposed to be a time to recharge, but it only left you restless. Your days blurred together in a haze of casual errands, late-night shows, and constant texts from Lando and Oscar. The messages were frequent and full of love—updates about their time apart, teasing remarks, random photos, and sweet "miss you" notes despite the time zones. Even with their busy schedules, they made an effort to check in, and it always left you smiling.

Then came the post.

Your best friend stormed into your shared flat, phone clutched in hand. “Y/N, you need to see this,” she said, eyes wide with urgency. She handed you her phone, and your stomach dropped.

There, on a gossip page, was a photo of Lando and Magui faces and bodies very close to each other with big smiles on their face in company of Max and Pietra. The caption read: “Lando Norris spotted looking cozy with Magui and friends. This is after rumours of them earlier in the year were clouded over by new friend Y/n L/n and his teammate Oscar Piastri that Lando has been seen getting very flirty with...”

You froze, the phone trembling in your hands, the three of you already saw the airport photos of your group hug. It was what it was to you three though. “What the hell?” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Your mind flashed back to when Lando and Oscar had confessed something about Magui. They’d told you they’d once considered inviting her into their relationship, but something had always held them back. Then they’d met you, and everything changed. They knew immediately they wanted you.

You pushed the memory away, your chest tightening as you stared at the picture.

Without a second thought, you dialed them both. They picked up almost immediately, Lando’s voice warm and his face smiley. “Hey, baby,” he greeted.

Your throat constricted. “I’m not coming to the next GP,” you blurted.

There was a pause. “What? Y/N, what are you talking about? We planned this together.” Oscar cut in confusion on his face.

“I just can’t,” you said, your voice breaking and eyes filling with tears. You didn’t want to bring up the post, unsure if Oscar even knew.

“Wait, what's wrong?” Lando asked, concerned about lacing his tone as he saw your eyes fill.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself. “I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up before they could say more.

That night, your best friend held you as you cried, her arms wrapped tightly around you. “They don’t deserve you if they’re going to pull this shit,” she murmured. But her words only made you cry harder.

The next day, your phone erupted with notifications.

From Lando: "Baby, I swear it’s not what it looks like. Please call me." "I would never do this to you. You have to trust me. Nothing happened." "I’ll explain everything if you just call me. Please, Y/N."

From Oscar: "Y/N, I didn’t think this would get so out of hand. I’m sorry." "You mean everything to us. Don’t let this ruin us." "Please, let’s talk. I’ll tell you everything."

From Max Fewtrell: "Y/N, you know Lando wouldn’t do this to you. He’s losing his mind right now. Please talk to him."

From Alexandra: "Hey, I saw the post. Are you okay? Call me if you need to vent."

From Rebecca: "Y/N, this is so unfair to you. If you need to talk, I’m here."

You ignored them all, until finally, you caved and called Lando and Oscar. They answered on FaceTime, both looking worried.

“Nothing is happening with Magui,” Lando said quickly.

Oscar nodded. “We wouldn’t do that to you. You have to know that.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell us?” You sighed aggravatedly. “If you knew she was going to be there why wouldn’t you say anything? Why would you get close with her again knowing someone's eyes are always on  you.

But then, Lando and Oscar got very silent, you could have thought the screen froze, and something passed between them. It was subtle, but enough to make your stomach churn. “What?” you pressed.

Oscar sighed. “I knew she’d be there. I thought it would be fine.”

Your chest tightened as Oscar's words hit you like a punch. "You knew?" you whispered, barely able to contain the hurt. "You knew she'd be there and didn’t say anything?"

Oscar hesitated, looking like he wasn’t sure how to answer. "I didn’t think it would be a big deal," he said quietly. "I thought it’d just be... fine."

"But it is a big deal!" you snapped, your voice rising, frustration bubbling over. "If you had just told me, I wouldn’t be upset. I could have handled it, but now it feels like you’re hiding something. Like you’re trying to have your cake and eat it too."

Lando’s voice cut through the tension, softer but still desperate. "Y/N, that’s not it. We didn’t want you to feel like this. We didn’t mean for it to look like we were hiding anything from you."

"You did hide it, Lando," you shot back, shaking your head. "You knew she was going to be there, and you didn’t tell me. It makes it seem like you wanted to keep me in the dark while keeping her close, like I’m some backup plan."

Oscar looked pained, and Lando seemed to be searching for the right words. "It’s not like that," Oscar said quickly, but there was an edge of panic in his voice. "I didn’t think this would happen. I thought it’d be fine."

"But it’s not fine," you responded, your voice cracking slightly as the weight of it all hit you. "You’ve betrayed my trust, Oscar. And Lando, you should’ve known better. If you had told me, we could have figured it out. But now? Now I feel like everything we shared was an act, something to keep you occupied while you figured your feelings out."

Lando opened his mouth, clearly struggling, so Oscar spoke up in a low voice. "Please, Y/N, we didn’t mean to hurt you. We just... didn’t think—"

"Exactly," you interrupted, your voice soft. "You didn’t think. If you had, we wouldn’t be here right now. I know it's only been a few months, but I thought our relationship was stronger than this. I thought I meant more to you than this, but you’ve shown me I don’t."

“No Y/N-”

With that, you ended the call, the sound of the FaceTime disconnecting echoing in your ears. You sat back on the couch, your heart aching, but you knew this was the only way to handle it. They had crossed a line, and now you had to protect yourself from the mess they had made.

Max Fewtrell texted shortly after: "Y/N, I know what it looks like, but I promise Lando wouldn’t do this to you. He’s doing his head in and acting erratically, please talk to him. He’s about to go into a race weekend." 

Hattie messaged, too.. “Oscar fucked up, but I’ve also never seen him this upset with himself. He is so sorry, I’ll never tell you what to do, but just know he really cares.

You ignored everyone.

Of course you watched the triple header, you were still their girlfriend, and before that you were their number 1 supporter. Track Walks were not as fun to you during that time, everything reminded you of what happened. They still texted you everyday, telling you about their day, about their thoughts on the race, saying they missed you and they were so sorry.

But Brazil was a disaster. The rain poured relentlessly, creating dangerous conditions on the track. Both Lando and Oscar struggled, and a red flag giving those who hadn’t had a pitstop a free one essentially knocked Lando out of the Drivers' Championship contention, but besides that, out of a win. Your heart ached watching it all unfold, tears falling down your face slowly, but you stayed silent, refusing to reach out.

A few days later, Max went live on stream with Lando. Lando sounded tired, wanting to stay muted when he didn't have to be heard, his voice hoarse. He admitted he’d been eating old food from months ago and wasn’t feeling well. Max F texted both you and Oscar after the stream: "Lando needs you. He’s not doing well at all."

Oscar replied immediately: "I’m on my way."

You stared at the message, conflicted. It wasn't until the next day when you were eating lunch that Oscar's text messages were blowing up your phone,

Osco: Baby, I know you don't want to talk to us, but Lando really isn't doing well.

Osco: I've spent all morning with him crying into my arms, degrading himself, it hurts so much to hear. He thinks everything is over, he needs you baby. I need you. 

Finally, you texted Alexandra and Rebecca, asking what you should do. 

Mes Amours 💗

You: Help…Oscar’s been texting me about Lando this morning. He said he spent the morning crying, degrading himself, and thinks everything’s over. I want to be there, but I’m so hurt. I don’t know what to do.

Alexandra: Wow… I knew things were rough for them, but that’s heavy. You’ve got to take care of yourself first though. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.

Rebecca: I get that, but… it won’t get better if you don’t talk to them. And, Y/N, I’m going to be honest here: Carlos is worried about Lando too. He told me Lando’s been completely off lately—barely eating, barely talking. He’s spiraling.

Alexandra: Wait, really? I mean, I knew they weren’t doing great in Brazil, but I didn’t think it was that bad.

Rebecca: It is. Carlos says he hasn’t been himself for weeks. And honestly, if Carlos is worried, you know it’s serious. Lando needs you, Y/N. Even if it’s just to talk. You don’t have to forgive them yet, but they need you right now.

You: I’ve missed them so much, it hurts. But I’m scared. What if I go back and things still don’t feel right? What if they don’t really understand how much they hurt me?

Rebecca: Then you tell them. You lay it all out there. But Y/N, we know how deeply you care for them, and it’s obvious they care about you too. I think they understand, they just need to see you in person.

Alexandra: Whatever you do, we are holding your hand.  Taking a deep breath, you texted Max Verstappen: Can I use your jet?

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason will forever be my comfort character, forever and always

Jason knew from an early age that love was conditional. This was especially more so if you lived in Gotham, and if that was the case then love was more or less something that’s purely transactional. The moment you lose the ability to give anything to someone else, you’re more then likely left to die in an alleyway or in a far away abandoned warehouse that was rigged to blow up.

Love was a weapon utilised in every possible way then what it was meant to be used for, and so Jason didn’t grow up with a very good experience with love or what others claimed as love.

Yet he read books where love was pure, love was powerful and empowering to the people who had the chance to experience it, love was scary and brutal as it was beautiful and something everyone desires to have in their life; whether or not it was real for everyone will chase after it blindly and carelessly as though their self worth was dependent on such an emotion.

He’s read books where love could break someone so badly that they can’t get up, where love can cause more cuts and wounds than knives and other weapons could ever inflict. He’s read books where love has left people wonder their self worth and if anyone else could love them as deeply and truly as the person who had just walked out of the door.

However Jason wondered that if people did love that deeply, wouldn’t you want to stay with that person even through the toughest times of their lives? Help them pull through instead of abandoning them when they were in the most need of their life? To Jason that didn’t sound like love at all as he couldn’t help but see himself in these characters that only saw the worst in themselves, truly believing that love wasn’t for them nor ever will in how their entire lives was the biggest example of such.

However all that changed with time the moment you entered his life and for good.

Jason was on the defensive as his eyes wouldn’t leave you as all you did was simple things for him unprovoked, unwarranted, as though you wanted to do these things for him. You would care for his books as though they were irreplaceable while rearranging them in alphabetical order, clean his weaponry and armour before he could early in the morning, and even would him breakfast in the morning when you noticed that he didn’t eat nearly as much as he should to properly function.

Jason didn’t know how to feel, nor how he could repay you back in response and even when he did, you would just brush him off and tell him that you could handle it, telling him that he shouldn’t worry about doing anything for you purely because you did things for him one day.

‘I just wanted to do these things for you.’ You tell him with a smile. ‘You’re a busy man and you don’t have nearly enough time to catch up to everything and I merely wanted to help clear your schedule somewhat while you’ve got your hand full.’ You add and Jason could only stare at you.

‘You wanted to?’ He said with a raised brow. ‘Sweetheart, there’s no such thing as people doing things for others out of the kindness of their heart, everyone wants something in the end as nobody is above their own desires.’ He then crossed his arms over his chest as a look of unconvincing overcame his face at your words.

You frown at this but didn’t hold such views against him, Gotham wasn’t a city where love was genuine and not corrupt nor unhealthy to some extent, if anything your heart ached for him as you could only imagine a young Jason having to learn this cruel lesson in the worst possible way; one that left a permeant scar upon his heart that would ache painfully as a reminder that in a city of Gotham love didn’t exist unless it was for transactional or conventional purposes for even more corrupt figureheads.

‘Love shouldn’t be used to hurt people, it should be used to help people and allow them to gain the strength to let others into their heart and trusting that person to not stab them in the back, love should be used between friends, family and lovers and no one else who could corrupt an innocent emotion such as love.’ You stepped closer to him as you watched his eyes and the flickering of emotions within them as his jaw clench and he would straighten his posture as though he was trying to scare you off with his height, it wasn’t working.

‘Love should help you realise that the love you’ve been receiving is not love at all, Jason you deserve love much like everyone else, for someone will look at you and see a beautiful man with scars that tell stories that they can only hope you’ll be ready to share with one day at your own comfortability.’ You finished as you rested your hand upon his bicep, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, as your thumb caresses a faint scar of his. It wasn’t a touch tender as anything Jason had experienced before and it both frightened and intrigued him at how much he needed this.

Had he found the love that the books he’s read in the past promised? That child in him said yes with such an eagerness, but he was still uncertain but knew that he felt safer with you than he did anyone else, and that was certainly a start in his eyes.

[copilot-crashout]

Anyway, I wanted to ask how the tulpar crew would react to reader style. Is gyaru that includes heavy makeup, long nails , a short skirt, etc? In which, they always think she’s a bitch for her style but is the most sweetest person ever? Please and thank you if you have the time!!

Pairing: Tulpar crew x fem!reader

Content Warning: Jimmy's part has brief mentions of misogynistic ideology and language. ( -᷄ _ -᷅ ; )

[A/N]: This was a really fun ask. Thank you! o(≧▽≦)o I like your pfp also, I love ALNST!! Happy New Year to everyone reading!

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> As a kid, the first lesson he was taught was to never judge a book by its cover. No matter how extravagant it was. The same applies to you, and he's so thankful for it.

-> If you ever want to take pictures of your outfits, he'll be the best cameraman ever. He'll tell you where to stand and take multiple pictures before returning your phone. He'll take them from different angles, asking you to move slightly to get better lighting. Back home, he'll steal your phone, sending himself all the photos he had taken as keepsakes, grinning like a fool. Yeah, he really is lucky to have you.

-> Definitely buys you clothing to match your style! He wants to support your hobbies as much as he can, noting what he sees you wearing the most often! Takes you out on dates to try and find different pieces for both of you. He has you sitting outside his dressing room before stepping out in a simple low-cut shirt and khaki pants you swore he had at home. He does a little spin, walking slightly to test the fit of his trousers before he faces you, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"What do you think, honey? You're the fashionista out of the two of us."

-> Bless his heart, the man really is clueless. He'd be happy to learn from you, though! Ask to dress him up in a similar style and he's hesitant. He's comfortable with what he knows. He'd much rather spend it on you, to see you smile in those gorgeous outfits.

DAISUKE:

-> He thinks it's so cool! He's not one to judge right off the bat, especially as to someone's style. However, his mood dampers once he's aware not everyone thinks like that. He hears the curt answers people give you, the whispers behind your back and the harsh stares he quickly returns when you're not looking. You're not scary at all! How come he's the only one to see that?

-> He'll take you outfit shopping but it's more for him! He rocks with the cardigans you wear so hard. He starts looking around for different styles that he might like. Daisuke loves the way you're dressed and wants to seem as cool as you did when you first met. He leans to more colourful outfits, saving different fit inspirations that he scrolls past on Instagram. He's inspired by those accounts that post couple fits, wanting to do the same with your style.

"This is cute but it looks waaayyy better on you!"

-> He's swapping accessories with you! Daisuke steals some of your hairclips and you snatch his jewellery to wear with your fits. His heart wells up with pride when he sees you wearing something of his. He must've done a good job picking it out. Daisuke kicks his feet and giggles whenever you compliment him on his outfits. You? Of all people!? Like his outfit!?! He's hit the jackpot!

ANYA:

-> Initially, Anya is intimidated. However, it easily melts away at how kind you are! Instead, she's quickly charmed by your confidence to wear gyaru fashion when it's not very conventional.

-> Supports it fully! She does extensive research into the subculture. Dedicates her time to learning about the different types of Gyaru styles and its history - the whole nine yards!

-> She likely won't dress up in that style, but you have inspired her to focus more on fashion. Those socks and sandals may be good for work, but not the best for streetwear style. She doesn't wear extremely alternative outfits but is drawn to simpler and neutral outfits that still scream fashionable.

-> Anya holds onto one of your hairpins when she works! It's a sweet reminder of you and her patients compliment her for it. It's a win-win!

-> While you're preparing for a date with her, she'll walk into the bathroom, observing how you do your make-up and taking note of your routine. Eventually, she builds up the courage to ask if she could do it for you, promising with a grin that it'll look great.

-> You're sitting in the bedroom, nimble hands cupping your face as Anya draws your eyeliner on, tongue sticking out in concentration as she works on keeping it even on both sides. All you can focus on is the proximity between you both, the gentle warmth radiating from her hands. She gently tilts your face as she applies your blush before leaning down and pressing a swift kiss to your glossed lips.

"There. You look gorgeous, starlight. Ready to head off?"

JIMMY:

-> Hates it at first. It's obnoxious, loud, and only makes you look intimidating. Pretty girls like you should be dolled up but only in the way he deems appropriate.

-> He's... Weirdly envious. Not at the clothes you wear (although being able to afford a style like that seems like an unneeded expense) but more so at what it means. You don't care for others' opinions, wearing what you like because it makes you happy. No matter how much he wants to deny it, Jimmy thrives off the opinions of others. He looks like an everyman. The most average man you could conceive of. Not like anyone important. How could you stand out next to him? You look like someone worth remembering and it pisses him off.

-> If you're in a relationship, I could see him warming up to it. He'd still prefer it if you didn't wear it but if it makes you happy... Plus, having a cute girl like you on his arm is certainly an ego booster. He buys you a skirt or two, smirking when you notice its shortness compared to your usual ones.

"What? Don't like it? I thought this sorta thing was up your alleyway? You'd look sexy in it anyway, doll."

SWANSEA:

"This isn't one of those fads, is it?"

-> Swansea can only sigh. This isn't his first rodeo with self-expression. His kids have done it all, including driving him up the wall as they explore their identity through their fashion. It doesn't make him any less confused, unfortunately.

-> It's more... out there than he was expecting. It's not one he's seen before. Rather than researching in his own time, he'd much prefer to get a first-hand account of it all. He asks questions in that fatherly way. It seems like he's judging but he is genuinely curious.

-> He doesn't think he could ever wrap his head around it but that doesn't mean he won't support you. Instead of buying you clothes, he'll pay for your nail appointments, muttering how "you kids are always runnin' me dry."

-> For all his grumbles, seeing you happy is his #1 priority, and the grin on your face when you show him your outfit is enough to make it all worth it.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mija's Halloween

Alexia Putellas x Baby!Reader

Summary: The twelfth of my Halloween-centric fics

It wasn't often that the staff let them have too much fun on camp.

There were breaks for team bonding and a few game nights but nothing like a party, especially not a Halloween party.

But the RFEF could be fickle at times and Alexia knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth so just nodded along when the staff told her of their plans.

Besides, it just meant that she could finally dig out the Halloween costume from her suitcase and put you in it.

You'd worn it once before at the store to check it was the right size but that was it. The tags were still on it by the time Alexia puts it on you for a second time.

"Mija," She coos," Over here, look at the camera."

You do no such thing, looking down at the scary pumpkin face on the front of your body. Your little brow furrows in confusion as you touch it.

"Mija," Alexia says again," Look, it's our friend Bun-Bun!"

At the mention of your bunny, your head pops up and you watch as Alexia dangles your best friend behind the camera.

"That's it," She says," Big smile. Smile for me, Mija."

You giggle as she makes Bun-Bun do a funny dance while she takes enough pictures of you to fill a whole album before finally returning your bunny to you.

"Oh!" Alexia says," Big kisses for Bun-Bun. Does Mami get kisses too?"

You lean forward and give her more of a big wet puff of air than an actual kiss but Alexia accepts it all the same, finally placing the hat onto your head so you can be a proper pumpkin.

"Now," She says, as she changes into her own costume," You need to remember to laugh when you see whatever silly costume Tia Jenni is wearing, okay? Osita will be a fox like always but Tia Jenni will wear something silly."

You babble a bit back at her, chewing on Bun-Bun's ear until Alexia lifts you up and onto her hip, pointing at the mirror.

"We're pumpkins!" Alexia says," Can you say that? Pump-kins?"

You babble something that kind of sounds like that but also not really.

Alexia takes it as a win, kissing the top of your head before making her way downstairs to where the party is already in full swing.

Just like she predicted, your cousin Osita is dressed up as a little fox complete with ears and paws and a cute bushy tail that you briefly wonder if you can pull.

You don't get the chance to though because Alexia gently presses a kiss to the top of Osita's head and continues walking through the hall, bringing Osita back to Tia Jenni at the same time.

It's not difficult to find the others, hidden away in the corner like they're simultaneously too old or too tired to take part in the quite vicious game of Spoons that the younger girls are partaking in.

"Jenni..." Alexia says," Are you a...?"

"Fork? Yes, yes I am."

Jenni grins proudly back, hands on her hips as she shows off her fork costume.

"And the fox ears are because...?"

"Osita wanted to match." Jenni looks down meaningfully at the bottom of the table, where Osita has hidden herself away with some food and her IPad. "But I've had this fork costume for ages so we compromised."

"You had this fork costume...for ages," Alexia repeats, completely deadpan.

"Since last Halloween," Jenni replies, nodding like she's done something particularly impressive by not assaulting everyone's eyes with the costume until this Halloween has rolled around.

"Mija," Alexia coos, getting your attention again," Remember what I said when we see Tia Jenni's silly costume?"

She tickles your tummy and you burst into a peal of laughter.

"That's exactly right! We laugh at Tia Jenni!"

Jenni rolls her eyes as she gestures towards Irene.

"At least I didn't just bring a sheet and cut holes in it!"

Irene, dressed plainly as a ghost, shrugs.

"This party was very short notice," She says," They're lucky I went out and bought a sheet rather than just cutting up one of theirs. Besides, Matteo wants to be a ghost this year. We can match."

"Well, Alexia knows all about matching. Two pumpkins in a pumpkin patch," Jenni teases.

Alexia rolls her eyes. "At least I'm making my little girl's dream come true. Fox ears? Really?"

"Hey! Osita likes them! Besides, Mija can barely talk. How do you know matching costumes is what she wanted?"

You hear your name and lift up your head from where you're playing with Bun-Bun.

Tia Jenni and Tia Irene are looking at you but you look away because Alexia is looking at you too.

You lean your whole body weight against her, tucking your head under her chin and reaching your hand out to play with her fingers.

Alexia grins down at you. "I think Mija is very happy with our pumpkin costumes."

"I think Mija," Jenni says pointedly," Is up past her bedtime."

Your train of babble has slowed down now and you're more of less gnawing on Bun-Bun's ear like you do with your dummy sometimes.

"Osita too," Alexia says, spying the way that Osita is leaning more heavily against Jenni's legs," I think this is a bit too much excitement for them."

"Well I guess they don't want any sweeties then."

You don't know a lot of words but you recognise that one, blinking blearily as you try to sit up though Alexia's arms cuddled around your body restrict a lot of your movement.

Irene shakes her little bag of sweeties and even Osita pops her head up to take a look.

"Mami!" You whine, kicking your little feet when Alexia doesn't let you lean forward to collect what Tia Irene is offering. "Mami!"

Alexia laughs at the stubborn look on your face, cheeks puffed out in outrage before she finally gives in.

"Maybe we eat this tomorrow, Mija," She says to you as a big yawn racks your whole body," You're very sleepy."

Her finger swipes down your nose and you go cross eyed trying to follow it. Your eyelids feel all heavy and droopy and Alexia is so nice and warm against you.

"Well I think she's out for the count," Alexia says softly, adjusting you in her arms until your head is pillowed against her shoulder," I think I should get her to bed."

A content, sleepy noise leaves your mouth that has Alexia melting as she puts you in your travel crib, smacking your little lips together.

"Your bottle isn't for another few hours," She coos, stroking a finger over your cheek," And then we can cuddle in bed."

You make another soft noise and Alexia just can't help herself.

"You're right, Mija," She says," Let's cuddle now."

[gublerryswift]

Late night confessions | Spencer reid x Fem!Reader

only fluff allowed in this house

In which Spencer can't believe how oblivious you were.

Warnings: Pretty sure none!

Content: Love confessions, reader is oblivious, really cutesy, petnames (stuff like darling...)

--

It’s a Saturday night, and you’re getting ready to go out with your friends from the BAU. Somehow, you guys got lucky enough to have this day off and decided to go to a bar and have some fun. Hotch and Rossi both said they’re “too old” for this and decided to not go, which honestly left you relieved, you really did not want both your bosses to see you in the outfit you had planned for the night. Besides them, everyone was going, and you were excited to see the team outside of work – particularly excited to see a certain genius. 

You and Spencer are the kind of friends that everyone perceived as “suspiciously close” and everyone that didn’t know thought you guys were a couple. Actually, there was a bet amongst your friends as to how long it would take you two to actually get together.

At first, you and Spencer found it uncomfortable and got awkward every time they made a joke about you two being together, but after some time, you guys started to join in a bit. Now, the irony of it all is, between all the flirty jokes, the way Spencer became so comfortable with you being clingy to him besides his germophobia and the way he cared so much about you…  You fell in love with him. 

Arriving at the bar, you spot your friends all sat at a booth and head over to them.

“Hey guys” 

“Hi sweetie, you look gorgeous” Garcia says, giving you a kiss on the cheek 

“Thanks darling, you look stunning too” You say, taking a seat between Spencer and Penelope. 

You talk to your friends, occasionally making eye contact with Spencer, who has been blushing ever since you came into the bar. You had always found it cute how no matter how many dates he had, he still would get flustered around girls he found attractive. 

You spent the night dancing and gossiping with Penelope and Emily. Later, the group was starting to leave when you felt a hand on the small of your back, when you turn around you see Spencer standing there smiling at you

“Hi Spence, wanna dance with me?” You say, putting your hands around his neck and smiling back, voice coming out a bit dragged

“Not now darling” He said, softly laughing at the way you were, not that usually you were super uptight but at this moment you seemed so relaxed and carefree he loved seeing you like that “Did you drive here?”

“Nop, but don't worry, I'll take a cab back home” 

“There's no way I'm letting you take a cab alone this late at night. C'mon, let's say goodbye to everyone and I'll take you home” 

You roll your eyes at him, but the way he was being so protective over you made your heart flutter. You thought about contesting him, something about you being a “scary FBI agent” but you knew he was right and decided to just go with it. 

You say your goodbyes to the rest of the group and go on with him to the parking lot. On the way to the car, Spencer is holding you by your waist to prevent you from stumbling, you're fully aware that you don't need it, you didn't even drink any alcohol, still you let him do it because there's no way you would ever shy away from being this close to him.  

Back at your house, Spencer goes with you in the elevator, stopping at your apartment's door 

“Alright, here you are, safe and sound” He says, smiling at you 

“Thanks Spence” You reach out to give him a hug, and it lingers for more time than it normally does

All you wanted to do right now was kiss him. 

“Do you want to come in? I'm not sleepy at all, and I would feel guilty with you driving alone this late at night, we can make some tea and talk maybe”

“I don't know, you really should rest…” Just as he began reclining your offer, you gave him the look you knew he would never say no to “Alright, I'll come in” 

“What's going on in that pretty brain of yours Spence” You say, leaning on the counter top 

You smile at him as you walk into your apartment, getting rid of your shoes and stepping into the kitchen. Spencer sits in one of the stools near the counter top and watches as you start to make tea. He watches every move you make, as if memorizing it, and maybe it's all in your head, and maybe you're just seeing what you want to see, but he has this look in his eyes, different from before.

“Not much” He smiles, and it feels like the world stops for a moment. 

 “Now that's a surprise, when have you ever not thought about everything all at once” 

“You tend to have that effect on me” His gaze lingers on you, as if he was trying to tell you something. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. 

“What's that supposed to mean” You think you might know, but there's no way he reciprocates your feelings… right? 

“You know exactly what i mean, there's no way you're that oblivious” He smirks at you, and god you think you might pass out right then and there. 

“If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, Spencer” 

He laughs and stands up, getting close to you "Alright, what i mean is when i'm close to you, that's all I can think about… You. I've been in love with you for… honestly, I don't even know how long anymore” He takes a step closer, placing a hand on your waist and his voice drops to a whisper “I've made it pretty obvious too, maybe you took the ‘don't profile each other’ too serious. How did you not notice?” 

You're shocked, you can't even process your thoughts right now. Your best friend, whom you've been in love with for years, just confessed to you. You did notice his change in behavior towards you, you just didn't believe he could ever be in love with you 

“I noticed you treated me different, but I thought it was just…” You lose your words when he reaches out and cups your jaw, you look into his eyes, and you can see the love in them, and it makes you feel something inside. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and all you can do is take a deep breath and lean into his hand, feeling your heart flutter. You give him a small nod and close your eyes as he gently presses his lips against yours, and at that moment, you know that this is real. 

 He gently pulls you into his arms and kisses you on the forehead as he whispers “I love you” 

“I love you more” You say, looking up, smiling at him.

“Impossible” He says, smiling back at you.

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! I know you don't always like to do smut (I'm a writer too, I get having to be in the right mood), so don't feel pressured to add smut to this one!

I was thinking that Eddie would be sitting at the table with the hellfire guys and reader teases him walks up behind him to whisper something sexy in his ear (maybe like plans for later, something she bought, etc). Anyway, he let's out some kinda noise, and the guys just will not drop it. They pick on him throughout the day for it

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Bully friends

Eddie laughed along with the boys as they focused on their breakfast. He picked at his bag of pretzels when he felt two hands on his shoulders. The hands moved down to his chest, rubbing him softly. He shifted in his seat, turning his head to the side to see his girlfriend standing behind him.

"What's up, babe?" He asked, smiling at up her. She smiled and leaned down, her lips perfectly fitting against his. He happily kissed her back, loving the way her hands kept rubbing his chest.

She took notice that the boys were looking at them when they pulled away. And also noticed Eddie's jacket covering her hands.

She leaned down to his ear, keeping her hands on his chest. She pressed a teasing kiss to his earlobe, making him shiver. She loved how easy it was to get him turned on.

"Remember that fantasy you wanted to try?" she whispered. Eddie felt his mouth go dry, chanting yes in his head. "I finished the outfit, and picked up the toys yesterday." Her fingers moved to his nipple, giving it a small tug.

"Hng" Eddie whimpered, his eyes huge as he released it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Y/N smiled and enjoyed his reaction. Already knowing tonight would be a very enjoyable night.

The boys waited for her to walk away before they all erupted in laughs.

"Someone heard something good," Gareth teased, nudging Eddie.

"Shut up," Eddie groaned, a tad embarrassed his friends heard the noise he let slip out.

"Why do you say that?" Dustin asked, not understanding the situation.

Eddie felt his face burn

"Means he's getting laid!" Mike said, holding up his hand to give Eddie a high-five. But Eddie sent him a glare, and Mike slowly dropped his hand.

~

Eddie thought the boys would drop it, but he was wrong. The first period started and Gareth sat next to him with that stupid look on his face.

"So, tell me what is happening tonight that made you "hng"" Gareth said, mimicking the sound Eddie made in a high-pitched voice.

Eddie groaned and shoved his arm.

~

By the time lunch came, Eddie was not excited to listen to his friends. Gareth would not get off his back about it, constantly teasing him.

Eddie sat down and it didn't take long for the boys to start.

They all mimicked Eddie's whimper, calling the attention of people around them.

"Will you quit it!" Eddie hissed, nervously looking around. He felt like he was holding his breath when Y/N arrived and sat next to him.

The boys went silent, but all stared at her. She looked around the table, "yes?"

"They won't leave me alone for what happened earlier! Make them stop," Eddie demanded, crossing his arms as he looked to his girlfriend for help.

"What happened?" she asked, a smirk forming on her face, "you mean when you whimpered like a needy boy?"

Eddie looked at her in shock as his cheeks burned bright red. "Y/N!"

The boys laughed, loving that she seemed to be on their side.

"Damn, Munson. I didn't think you'd be the bottom." Lucas snickered. High-fiving the table as they laughed.

"I am not a bottom!" Eddie growled, standing up from his chair.

"Oh right, because big dominant men say hng and whimper," Mike said as he rolled his eyes.

Eddie's eyes went dark as he looked at the table.

"You know what, watch your backs. I'm going to make you regret mocking me," he growled. The heat in his eyes was scary enough to make the table fall silent.

"And for you," he said, turning his attention to his girlfriend. She silently gulped. A big smirk on his face that made her clench her thighs. He walked behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "I'm going to fuck your big mouth until you can't speak."

The boys watched with curiosity as Y/N's eyes went wide and she slightly coughed on her spit.

Eddie had a huge victory smile on his face as he walked away.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunsonmain @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[vamptarot]

Ten Things That Are F### Cool About You | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose which picture you are most drawn to or close your eyes, breath and read the one your eyes land on! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ today I saw a pick a card that not only pissed me off but also disgusted me due to how mean the reader was in every single pile. I checked. their egoistic approach annoyed me. instead of spreading hate, I wanted to remind you why you are an awesome person. not proof read.

pile one : - cold drink !

𐙚 : the high priestess, eight of wands, nine of wands reversed, death

bottom of the deck: five of wands

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You always research about a topic before talking about it! I think this is very cool because a lot of people spread misinformation without even knowing it and that’s why fake fun facts exist. You are not like that though! You feel a sense of responsibility and thirst for knowledge, which in itself makes you a reliable person. - and source! -

2. You protect those who cannot stand up for themselves and I think that is very cool! Usually, you might have a hard time standing up for yourself but if it’s someone more vulnerable than you then you will give your all. You will raise your voice, yell, make valid arguments and even fight if necessary. - This differs person to person but the imaginary I am getting is protecting children, animals, women and young teens (from creeps to be exact) -

3. You work on yourself and enter new beginnings even if it’s scary at times, it can be hard and scary but that doesn’t make you back off from actually trying your best to become someone that you can be proud of. There is always a sense of hope within you that is very admirable.

4. You know how to keep privacy! A lot of people don’t, and don’t value it as much as they should. Having a healthy boundary with privacy is a privilege not many realise they have.. also, if you happen to share an intimate moment with someone you don’t run your mouth but rather treasure it as a memory as a form of respect.

5. Some people in this pile have temper issues, obviously, don’t take it if that doesn’t apply to you but I am seeing that for those of you who can resonate with that you are doing a really good job keeping it under control. You are not a hot headed person.

6. You are very experimental with looks! I do think this makes you a very beautiful person, because there are several things that suit you and look cool on you. If you like taking pictures I hope you know that you look beautiful and gorgeous in each one of them, one day you will look back at them with a smile even if you didn’t like that one thing because at least you gave it a try.

7. Zero judgment detected in your soul. Seriously, you could be the sort of person that never freaks out at people’s ‘hear me out’s but rather just go ‘yep, I get why you are into that’ even though you have no attraction to whatever character or person they said. You get their point, it’s just not one that you will make.

8. My fashion babies in this pile are slaying each and every time! You could take dressing fashionable in a seasonal manner mildly seriously. You don’t expect everyone to do it, but it’s most definitely something you take a lot of joy in. It’s really cool, your style is a 10/10. - Yes, even if you change it up often. -

9. Even if you are anxious you can do things so incredibly well. You remind me of a video I once saw of a girl with anxiety making a phone call, her hands were shaking uncontrollably the whole time but she didn’t stop being polite and kind. I think that’s you. Even in moments of being scared, you are kind to people.

10. You have such a beautiful voice. I mean your singing voice, but if you are not confident in that this could of course mean your regular speaking voice too. There is something comforting and yet bittersweet about your voice. It makes people feel home at times when they are sad.

— ✮⋆˙ die with a smile - bruno mars & lady gaga , ‘good luck babe’, 2003 , enha photoshoots , guitar injuries (from the string breaking) , white dahlias , glitter videos (those 2021 ones) , ‘good luck, charlie!’ , wavy hair , not well known ethnicity , taurus , capricorn , pisces

that’s all my beautiful pile one! I do think you happen to be very shy, but I do hope that you know that you genuinely have so much love to offer. there is much more to you than what you show the world, but I think you already know that. thank you for reading

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pile two : - peace sign ! ✌🏻

𐙚 : page of pentacles, eight of swords reversed, queen of wands, five of pentacles reversed, page of cups reversed, the star reversed

bottom of the deck: judgement

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. YOU THINK YOU ARE SO COOL AND MYSTERIOUS BUT YOUR HEART IS FULL OF LOVE AND KINDNESS 🫵🏻 YOU TREASURE YOUR LOVED ONES AND WOULD RATHER SACRIFICE YOURSELF THAN TO EVER SEE THEM SUFFER !!YOU ARE SENSITIVE AND LOVABLE !!!!!!!!!

2. After all that you have went through you are still here and you are still standing. All that happened but rather than it destroying you completely or bringing you down you allowed yourself to heal and I am very proud of you for that.

3. Your judgement of people are very great! Of course if you don’t like someone of have mean thoughts of them you will keep it to yourself in order to not upset anyone, but you are still really good at telling their personality by their behaviour. Other people might not know but you do.

4. You are a secret little romantic! I bet it makes you shy to express your emotions outward and so freely. Truth to be told, you want to experience so much romantic things and wish to think of them without experiencing negative emotions. This makes you cool because even though you have a hard time with it, you know it’s a part of you and accept it.

5. You are so kind to animals, take care of them and most people reading this pile have a pet too. I think animals are just naturally drawn to you regardless of what they are. - as in pet, stray or wild animal. - It’s like they know they can be safe with you.

6. ‘You can slap a bitch if you need to’. Literally, that’s what I heard.. and I think most people here take pride in it too right? Just make sure to not get into unnecessary fights. It’s not what makes you cool though. It’s that you keep to your word. If you say you are gonna do it, you really will.

7. A lot of you find comfort in the stars and moon. In an aesthetic sense, but also there is a deep sense of appreciation for them that not many people have. They just put you in awe. If you are into astrology you have such a deep and profound understanding of it. One that not many people have.

8. Honestly, your view of life is sort of clouded and not completely “whole” but that’s alright. Exactly because day by day you do your best to learn and never turn an opportunity to see life from a wider perspective down, even if you might have done this in the past.

9. You are sooo talented, and you don’t even realise that. You are amazing in creating things; anything that is physical. This is especially true if you like jewellery, as I think designing or just making your own craft is something that you would/could enjoy doing if you put your own unique twist into it. It’s just something that makes you feel alive.

10. You are so confident! Even if you might not always feel like it, on the outside you always appear confident and aware of your surroundings. Someone composed who wants to present themselves in the best way possible. - You probably pay a lot of attention to your posture. -

— ✮⋆˙ ‘I don’t even wanna do this anymore’ , homework from 1 am ‘til 4am , 9 to 5 , jean purses ? , ditto - new jeans , a bent photocard (of whoever) , 7 - JK , stars , something about the four seasons ? , fave colour = red , ‘letta’ , cappuccino & frappuchino , friendly banter , 111 , 1212 , 2011 , sagittarius , aries , leo

i am sorry for yelling at you at the first point my pile 2 but some younger people in this pile - esp teenagers - like to put on a mean girl persona when that’s not them at all. what’s the point of that? you can’t please people with someone you are not. I sincerely wish that’s something you will remember my sweethearts. thank you for reading

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pile three : - megaphone !

𐙚 : three of wands, six of swords, knight of pentacles, justice, king of swords, the lovers

bottom of the deck: five of pentacles reversed

♡ ⢷ why you are so cool

1. You know when to walk away from a situation, which is unironically awesome. Like sure this could be considered a negative trait but you aren’t toxic with it. You just simply know your worth.

2. You have a person you are in love with for several years now right? At least, most people in this pile do. You have unwavering loyalty and love in your heart that no one can take away from you, no matter what. I think that’s very cool.

3. You treat children really well! Which should be a given, but many people are way more mean and cruel hearted than what children should deserve. After all, they are humans too and fragile ones at that. You are very responsible and a safe space for them. I wholeheartedly believe that’s cool.

4. When you call people out, you do so with evidence. I do like that a lot, you don’t just accuse people but rather keep collected and calm even if you are angry or despise the situation that you were put into.

5. Did you ever take a look at your side profile? You are quite ethereal, you have such an unique beauty to you. I do also believe that you look beautiful in your home country’s traditional clothing style:

6. You are stubborn, but not in a sense of annoying people or being selfishly caught up in your desires. This is a stubbornness that is found in people with leader like qualities, that people can rely on. You are stubborn in a sense of wanting to create a better future for yourself and those around you who you deem to deserve it. - bc let’s face it, some humans suck. -

7. I am sorry if this sounds weird, but your hand is always occupied with something. You are a very busy person, even if you might not believe so. You gotta do this, and you gotta do that. You have many interests, hobbies and responsibilities too. Yet you manage to juggle them so well, it’s hard to guess when you are stressed out.

8. Whenever you are around you light up people’s day and mood. You are such a sunshine child, people love to have you around. Even if you believe that’s not the case, people do appreciate you a lot more than you realise.

9. If you have a love for photography I hope that you know that you have a beautiful talent. You are amazing at taking pictures, making them pretty and seeing the beauty in every single little thing even if other people might not be able to do so.

10. You are really good with finances and saving up despite the anxiety it causes you. Give yourself a pat on the back because that is not something many people are able to truly say about themselves. Many people in this pile were raised in a way to appreciate money but not let it consume you, which I think you nailed pretty good!

— ✮⋆˙ somewhere over the rainbow - israel kamakawiwo’ole , early 00s & 10s hawaii , crying at night , daydreaming for hours , ‘thank goodness ‘ , my little pony , new hyper fixation , heat , ten to five , hair being washed by someone else , flamingos , pimples ? , papaya - sorry, ik gross to mention right after , pink skincare bottles , 555 , juliet , lucifer , 10th house

my dearest little lamb your energy was the calmest, sweetest and most welcoming out of all the piles. I am truly happy that you decided to read my pac / participate in it. it was truly a pleasant experience to channel for you 🫶🏻 thank you for reading

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