#I'm catatonic in your arms

[halfdeadwallfly]

thinking about against the kitchen floor again

[trashytracktales]

Drive me, clutch | LN⁴

𐙚 summary ──── He should be worn out after the night he's had. But Lando is insatiable, and one night is not nearly enough. His need has only been stoked by a few hours of sleep, giving him an endless supply of energy that matches his intensity on the track.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, established relationship, fluff & smutt, bit of praising, swearing & a down bad Lando.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.8k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 1, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I'm new on writerblr can y'all tell :')

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THE MORNING LIGHT sneaks in through the curtains, creating a gentle glow and soft shadows all around the room.

He was always a deep sleeper, not easily disturbed by noise or movement. Over time, he conditioned himself to slip into catatonic slumbers, because in his line of work, it's vital to be fully rested. She, on the other hand, has always slept like a bunny, her ears picking up even the subtlest sound, amplified by the quiet of the morning.

With one arm stretched possessively over her waist and his face nestled into the curve of her neck, Lando is wrapping her like a second blanket, his warm breath fanning across her skin in steady, sleep-heavy sighs. His body radiates a deep warmth, a furnace that causes her to shift and almost run out of breath in the cocoon they've created.

It's way too hot.

She moves again, trying to get his arm off her waist while suppressing a quiet giggle when she realizes her attempts are futile — and that she made it all worse because now, Lando pulls her in, resting half of his body weight on her.

“Lan… ” she cries in a sleepy voice, lifting her hand to brush stray curls off his forehead. “Baby, you’re suffocating me,��� she tries again, feeling Lando anchoring himself tighter around her waist.

His brows furrow in mild protest while he stirs slightly, as if he can already sense she's trying to get away. However, he gently presses his nose on her skin, muttering something incoherent in a sleepy, low voice. Even in his half-awake state, his thumb is making languid circles over her skin, just to remind himself that she's there, in his arms. There’s a spark in his touch, a warmth that seems to spread like wildfire, and she can feel it.

The girl decides to give it one more try, his name falling from her lips in a loving whisper.

“Mhm… ‘m heavy?” he asks.

She puffs out a chuckle, “A little, but the heat bothers me more.”

Lando lets out a soft chuckle, pushing the blanket off in a swift move, the air in the room immediately feeling cooler against their bare skin.

“Better?” his voice is a gritty, gravelly whisper that feels like sandpaper against her skin after being warmed by him.

The girl gasps in surprise, laughing at the sudden change in temperature, “Lando, we’re fucking naked. Put it back!”

“Oh, now you’re worried?” he asks, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her shoulder.

His eyes finally flutter open, sleepy yet filled with a familiar mischief. A lazy grin spreads across his face as he locks eyes with her, a quiet intensity lingering just beneath the surface. His fingers move along her body in a way that makes her shudder as his hand goes up her side. His gaze never leaves hers, glimmering with a glow of want and danger.

“Of course I am. We all get self-conscious in the daylight,” she admits, reaching for the blanket to put it back over them.

Lando stops her just in time, holding the velvety material out of the way. He leans over her on his forearms, loving how quickly she changed her mind just because she got shy from his intense staring session.

“I wanna see you.”

“No,” she protests, pullig him in, so his chest could cover hers.

“What do you mean no?” he chuckles. “I've had your thighs around my face last night, but now you're getting self-conscious?”

“It doesn't matter. I’m still shy,” she whispers.

The distance between them vanishes in an instant, his fingers running through her hair, while his lips are slightly brushing against hers, meaning to meet in a deep, tender kiss that is infused with the passion and hunger of the night before. But Lando has other plans. On one hand, he wants to kiss all the shyness away, to show her that there is nothing she should worry about, because she'll be beautiful in his eyes no matter what, day and night, and always.

On the other hand, he knows it's his job as a man and as her boyfriend to make her feel comfortable in her own body — a body that he worships with every chance he gets. He loves the constellations on her back, the softness of her legs, and the way she fits perfectly with him.

If he wouldn't know better, he'd say they were made for each other, in every aspect.

Lando watches her as she closes her eyes, knowing she's expecting him to kiss her. Instead, he chooses to study her face, closely, like he's never done it before, taking in every detail, from the tiny mole under her left eye and her rose lips that can do so much damage to him, to the marks he left over her neck and shoulders the night before.

Without thinking twice, he traces his finger over some of the darkened spots, taking in every part of her that he’s made his own — an artist admiring his own work.

“You’re mesmerizing.”

It's the last thing she expects him to say. Usually, he'd call her beautiful or breathtaking, but this time the compliment goes behind the surface. He knows he could look at her for hours, without getting bored. It means that, in the daylight, he is finally able to see something more profound.

She can’t help but let out a sigh in protest, but still smiles in return, “Shut up.”

“And all mine, yes?” he adds, letting his eyes slide down her bare chest, following each line and curve.

She nods, “You know it.”

It’s making him crazy — the way her body lays out under him, and the way he can clearly see the result of his need, desire and hunger on her skin. He’s speechless for a while, his mind filled with one lonely thought: her.

Her eyes snap open the moment she feels his hand gently squeezing one of her breasts, caressing her nipple with his thumb.

“Did I hurt you, baby?” he asks softly, pressing a finger into one of the hickeys that ended up looking like a little, weirdly shaped heart.

Her soft wince takes them both by surprise, a sudden wave of guilt washing over Lando at the thought that he could hurt her unintentionally.

“I’m fine,” the girl tries to assure him, but he frowns, already beating himself up for losing control like that.

He can't help it, though.

“I’m so sorry, I—”

“Don't,” she cuts him off, “You didn’t hurt me, I promise. Plus, I got you good, too,” she says, running the pads of her fingers over the crimson fingernail marks left on his shoulders.

He can hear the sweetness in her voice, all the guilt melting away in an instant. From there, Lando moves with an intensity and skill that is all too familiar — as if he were on the track, determined to put together the perfect lap.

He presses his lips on her silky skin, desperately wanting to soothe her. To continue to worship her. To thank her for existing and choosing him to share herself with.

“If it hurts later...” Lando begins, raising his head to look at his girlfriend.

Her hand glides up to cup his chin in her palm, “It'll be a reminder of how good you make me feel every single time,” she finishes his sentence, finally pulling him in for a kiss.

At the sound of her words, a low moan slips from his throat into her mouth, the simple affirmation enough to make Lando lose it. Her hands land on his shoulders, pulling him as close to her as possible. The eagerness is making him so desperate, wanting to feel the connection in every vital point of his body.

She wraps her legs around his waist, while Lando's hand travels up to hold the side of her neck, his tongue delving into her mouth into a messy kiss. Another moan escapes through her lips this time, the second she feels his hand slightly squeezing her.

As he deepens the kiss with a smile on his lips, she tries to speak, hardly able to form more words, her voice vanishing into a gentle moan.

This time, the race is different, and he is not in a haste to finish, enjoying every turn with an air of confidence that is unmistakably Lando. He seems to be able to read her so easily, even when she goes non-verbal, because it feels so good to have him on top.

With every touch and every inch of him, they fall into harmony. With each heartbeat and kiss, the low hum of energy between them intensifies until the world beyond their entwined bodies disappears into a fuzzy, faraway blur.

It's just them and the need to crawl under each other's skin.

His palm moves to cradle her face as he brings her closer, causing her to catch her breath and quiver. Her senses are sharpened, each gentle touch and soft sound more vivid than the previous, and she feels herself immersing herself in the present. In him. Entirely.

Lando feels her body arching up against his, a reflex reaction when he puts a little pressure between her legs. His tongue pushes deeper into her mouth, his hips rolling against hers, a low moan coming from the back of his throat.

“Your mouth…,” she exhales breathlessly, raising her hips to meet his halfway.

As a result of countless nights spent together, Lando gets the memo without her needing to elaborate. He became a pro at reading her body language like it's an open book, which makes him smirk, so proud he manages to understand her needs from a simple movement.

His lips are traveling south, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When she feels his hot breath hoovering above her thighs, her fingers find home in his hair, guiding Lando where she needs him most. His mind goes blank as soon as he feels her warmth, the taste of her flooding his senses.

He buries his face further, his tongue lapping at her intently, wanting to feel more of her. Much, much more. One of his hands moves down to her hips, anchoring them to the bed as he smiles at the sound of her soft whining — his favorite melody.

As soon as she starts to wiggle under his touch, his tongue begins circling, delving deeper than before. Her taste drives him wild while his mouth is making little wet noises against her.

“So sweet and warm f'me, aren't you?” he asks rhetorically, bringing his free hand between her thighs. “Fucking hell,” he lets out a breathy exhale, his thumb moving to rub against her clit, while two of his fingers push slowly inside.

She uses a hand to grip the sheets just as Lando pulls back a little, keeping his fingers thrusting in and out at an increasing pace that make her toes curl.

“Baby…,” she sucks in a breath, feeling the pressure building slowly, but surely.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, rolling back on top of her to muffle her moans with a furtive kiss. “You're so pretty, you know that? So pretty, taking my fingers so well.”

“Lando, please,” she whines, moving her hips in unison with his hand, trying to catch the wave that she's been chasing ever since she felt his tongue on her pussy.

Lando bites his lower lip in an attempt to hide his smile; he loves to see her losing herself like that only from his fingers.

“Mhm, you take what you need, yeah? Fuck my fingers, that's it.”

She arches against his hand harder, bringing her arms around Lando's neck for more stability. He lets his forehead drop on hers, their breaths blending together while she pants at his encouragements. Their lips come in contact once more, as Lando slows her down with the other hand on her hip, gripping her tightly to gently pull out his fingers.

The sudden emptiness forces her to let a cry out, her pussy clenching down hard on nothing.

“Don't piss me off,” she warns, wrapping her fingers around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers with the aggression of a needy woman that knows what she wants.

The kiss hits like a turbocharger at peak RPM, fast and powerful, leaving them breathless in its wake, their minds spinning wildly like they are racing against time.

“Need to be inside you,” he chuckles at her eagerness, pumping himself in his hand a few times before rubbing the head of his cock over her needy core to spread the wetness.

The feeling leaves her almost breathless, her thighs wanting to press together instinctively, until Lando stops them with a firm grip.

He lets out a noisy moan into her neck, her body making him feel like he's sinking, the feeling of her walls squeezing him bringing up all the memories from last night. Lando buries his face in her chest, trying to steady himself, but it's a losing game.

He's already a goner.

“How are you always this tight around me, baby, fuck,” he pants, breathing wetly against her skin.

Every cell in her body feels like it's on fire, his words far from being registered in her head. Instead, she spreads her legs wider, making more room for him to fill her up completely, inch by inch.

“Shit, it feels so good. You feel so good, please,” she continues begging, because there's nothing else she can do. Except raising her hips to push back against his thrusts as he finally starts moving.

The sound of skin on skin reverberates around the quiet room, peppered with occasional whimpers and Lando's low moans. It's almost too much, but that doesn't stop her from meeting her boyfriend halfway. Quite the opposite. She's aware she's ruining the sheets with how wet she is, her pussy dripping with both their juices. But seeing the look on his face while he drives her it's enough to simply not care about the mess they're making.

“Fuck, that's it, baby. Like that,” he moans, gripping her thighs, partially to hit her with hard, long strokes, that he knows it drives her wild. But mostly because he needs something to hold on to.

Soon enough, Lando's breath starts coming out in quick, hot pants, his free hand clutching at the sheets by her head. His body is on fire, being able to feel her raw and see her face change with pleasure every time he hits her sweet spot. His eyes squeeze shut, the build-up almost too much for him to not lose it.

“Fuck, baby, you're killing me. Squeezing me so tight, I'm not. Gonna. Last,” he admits, accentuating the words with each hard thrust.

“Don't hold back, please. Please, don't stop…,” her words fade at the intensity of the warm knot that forms in her stomach, her legs tightening more around him.

“Yeah? You want to come, baby?” he asks, fucking his cock deeply into her, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the feeling, while her nails are slowly digging into his back.

She doesn't have time to feel bad for causing new scratches on top of his old ones as pleasure meets pain at its sweetest level. He's not bothered in the slightest, too preocupied to enjoy her, his focus on how every inch of his length gets hugged by her walls so tightly.

“I'm… Oh, yes! Fuck. I'm so close,” she moans, her mind going numb, letting her breath out in short spasms.

He hears the desperation in her voice, which makes him picking up the pace, bringing his hand between their bodies so he could rub her clit in a ferm, circular motion.

With that, it's enough for her to let out a string of moans as she comes hard around his cock. Her mind wanders through spaces filled with pure pleasure, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

The sight of her drives him crazy, determined to reach his release while she still has that satisfied look on her face. Lando starts fucking her harder, pressing their bodies roughly into the mattress as he mumbles filthy words in her ear, that she's too dizzy to decipher.

“So fucking pretty when you come, my baby.”

His baby.

“Yours,” she agrees, her mouth parting slightly at the feeling of his hands roaming everywhere on her body.

She knows he's close, judging by the sloppy thrusts he's struggling to keep under control. But control is overrated, anyway. And it only takes a couple more until hot shots are spilling deep inside, filling her up.

“Fucking hell,” Lando exhales, collapsing on top of her, his cock throbbing against her walls, too sensitive to pull out right away.

She wraps her arms around her boyfriend, kissing his forehead, his cheek, and shoulder, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the bedroom.

He swallows hard, completely spent, running his arm up and down her side, while her hand ends up in his hair, pushing his curls out of the way so she could look at him.

“Should we go get coffee?” she asks matter-of-factly, her genuinely curious tone making Lando laugh.

“After I take you from behind?”

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm VIII

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You have your baby

It all happened so quickly that Alexia didn't know what to do.

One moment, the cries of your new baby girl filled the room.

She was perfect, bright eyes and a little tuft of wispy hair.

Alexia was allowed to cut the chord.

"Hello, Elena," You said when Alexia presented her to you.

"You did so well, amor," Alexia said, eyes shining with unshed tears," I'm so proud of you."

"She's beautiful."

"Yes." A little bubble of laughter spilled out of Alexia's chest. "She is."

She'd turned away for a second. Only a second to give baby Elena to the nurse to weigh and check. It was just a second, not even that.

A hint of a second.

A bare moment of time when her eyes weren't on you.

A tiny amount of time in the grand scheme of things. Not even enough time to say a word.

You were pale, much paler than before and breathing heavily.

You were already panting through the birth but this was different. It was worse.

You were clammy and unfocused and Alexia reached for you.

Only to have her hand knocked away from you by a doctor hurrying forward.

He said words but either Alexia couldn't understand them or didn't hear them at all. His mouth moved but nothing computed.

Bags were hung up on your iv pole, something injected into you, something else put on a drip.

But you didn't look any better.

You didn't even look really present at all.

This was meant to be one of the best moments of your lives, on the top spot alongside adopting baby Maya and marrying your wife but something was wrong.

Something was so wrong.

"No," Alexia said, scrambling to force words out of her mouth," I...What's going on? No! Stop! Don't take her! Please!"

The doctors were already activating the wheels on your bed, already pulling up the guard rails.

One of the nurses caught Alexia's arms as a flurry of activity happened around her.

"Miss Putellas, y/n is haemorrhaging. Has she told you what that means?"

"Mrs," Alexia says faintly, staring down at the wedding band on her finger, hot like flames against her skin.

"What?"

She looked up at the nurse. "It's Mrs Putellas. We're married."

The nurse's features softened a fraction as she gently led Alexia to the seat by your bed.

"Y/n is bleeding. Heavily. We can keep her on a blood transfusion or we can take her to surgery but we need permission."

"S-Surgery?" Alexia's eyes widened in panic. "She's dying?! She's going to die?!"

"Miss-Mrs Putellas-"

"You need to save her," Alexia insisted, a prickling feeling in her stomach," Anything! Everything! You have to save her!"

"We'll try," The nurse promised," We're going to take her in now but, for you, do you want to wait here or down by delivery with your baby?"

"Elena."

"Huh?"

"Elena. The baby. Her name is Elena."

"That's a beautiful name."

"My wife chose it."

Alexia sat by delivery practically catatonic.

Elena was in the nursery with all the other babies, routinely checked upon but Alexia couldn't bring herself to move, mind swirling with thoughts of you and just how weak you looked in that hospital bed.

You had been smiling before she turned away. You had been happy, eager to have Elena in your arms.

The pitter patter of little footsteps was all Alexia could hear and her body turned automatically, drawing Maya closer to her.

"Mami!" Maya chirped," Abuela say our baby is here?"

"She is. Elena. Your baby sister."

At some point, Alexia had called Eli. She didn't know how. She didn't know when but Maya had been sent to Eli to babysit when you went into labour.

For her to be here now means that Alexia had called Eli.

Maya stood on her tiptoes to look into the nursey.

"Alexia-"

"Mami, they took her. She's in surgery. They're-They're-"

The sobs that had been forced down until now, sprung out full force and Alexia sobbed into her mother's shoulder.

"She's going to be okay, Alexia," Eli said," She's strong. She's going to fight."

"I want my wife, Mami," Alexia said," She didn't even get to hold Elena."

"Something wrong with Mama?"

Maya stood in front of them, bored of staring at the babies and Alexia tried to clamp down on her tears, tried to explain but her words got stuck in her throat.

"Maya," Eli took over though," Your Mama just needs to be checked out a little more. Having your baby sister-"

"Elena," Maya interrupted," Name is Elena. Mama name her."

Alexia bit on the inside of her cheek to clamp down a heart-breaking sob.

"Having Elena has taken a lot out of your Mama so the doctors are checking her over."

Maya took a step closer. "Mama is doctor. Looks after hurt people. Mama hurt? Mami, Mama hurt?"

"Mama is going to be just fine," Alexia said, desperately wishing it into existence," She's going to be perfectly fine. She just needs a bit more rest."

Maya burst into tears.

Alexia cried harder.

The clock taunted them, the hands moving slowly but surely until it was hours past since you had first been taken away.

Maya kept crying.

Alexia cries some more.

Eli kept them hydrated and fed, making stops at the café to get them food.

"Mrs Putellas?"

Alexia was up like a shot, Maya already on her hip.

"Yes? That's me! How's my wife?!"

"She-"

"My Mama going to be okay?" Maya asked.

The doctor nodded. "She suffered a post-partum haemorrhage but we performed a laparotomy. It was successful and she's being taken back to her room. Should we bring the bab-"

"Elena," Maya said," My Mama name her."

"Should we bring Elena back too?"

Alexia nodded, wiping her tears. "That would be nice."

She was by your bedside when you woke up, Maya fast asleep on her lap and a little bassinet nearby.

"Hello, my love."

"Amor, how are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been cut open," You teased but Alexia's face fell," Too soon?"

She nodded. "A little bit."

"How are our babies?"

"Maya was worried. Elena is still perfect."

"Can I see them?"

Alexia gently transferred Maya onto the bed with you. The little girl automatically curled into you in her sleep as Alexia gently lifted Elena.

"Well, hello there, beautiful girl," You cooed as Elena was placed on your chest," It's nice to finally meet you."

She was asleep too, a nice weight on your chest with her scrunched-up little face and even smaller tuft of hair.

"My love," You said," Don't cry."

Tears rolled down Alexia's face as she joined you on the other side of the bed, burying her head into your shoulder as she sobbed.

"I thought I lost you," She choked out," Amor, I was so worried. I didn't understand what was going on."

"I'm okay, Ale," You assured her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head," I'm alright."

"But you weren't. They took you to surgery."

"And they saved me, Ale," You said," They saved me and I'm here, with you and our children and I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

[darylssunshine]

Torture

summary: you teased daryl, and now he's getting his revenge.

word count: almost 3.7k

genre: smut

warnings: p in v, choking, biting

era: commonwealth

a/n: this picture got me so deranged that I wrote several essays worth of smut. god. || thanks to @dixons-sunshine and @shadowcitrine on some parts of this!

~~~

Rubbing a hand down his face, Daryl opened the door to your shared home, exhausted from his supply run. The sound of the door clicking open and his hard boot steps on the floor were unmistakable, so you hollered down at him from upstairs.

“Hey, Dar!” You shouted in a sing-song way.

Immediately in a slightly better mood just by hearing your voice, he replied back in a louder than normal talking voice. “Evenin', sunshine.”

Grunting, he set his bag down near the door, noting to deal with it tomorrow when he didn't feel like he was going to literally fall apart where he stood. He gripped his elbow to stretch his forearms, followed by his neck.

He had lost his stealthy grace that he had when he was hunting just hours before, as his loud footsteps climbing the stairs could be heard throughout the house, the floorboards creaking loudly. He headed towards your shared bedroom when he noticed the bathroom light illuminating the adjacent wall, along with an interesting looking leaf you found and thumbtacked to the wall for “decoration.” What he was greeted with when he turned the corner into the bathroom was something he had definitely not been expecting. He was catatonic in his tracks.

You turned around to greet him in a silky, red dress that hugged you just right. It had a v-neck neckline, and it came down to your middle thighs, not showing any signs of you wearing anything underneath.

He raised an eyebrow while slowly looking you up and down, drinking you in. “S’all this?” He leaned his forearm on the doorframe to get a better look at you, suddenly not thinking about his sore neck anymore.

You noticed your husband's sultry look and grinned, redness adorning your cheeks. “Just something I found while I was out a couple of weeks ago. Nothing special.”

As an act of disagreement, Daryl slid behind you to grip your hips and put his face in the nape of your neck, breathing in your scent. His stubble tickled your neck, making you giggle. “‘Nothin’ special’ my ass.”

His hands began to explore your body, rubbing your exposed shoulders, contrasting your smooth skin with his calloused, overworked hands. They went back down to your hips, savoring the curves and the dips. You snapped out of your trance of feeling Daryl's perfect hands on you when he snaked said hands under your dress.

“Hey! Handsy!” You squealed playfully and quickly turned around to face him, disconnecting his hand from your body. You then slapped his arm, and he smirked in response.

“Ain't I allowed to appreciate ya?” He purred rhetorically, pulling you in again by your waist and resting his forehead against yours. Giggles erupted from your lips once more, very much enjoying the state your husband was in and how you alone made him like that.

“You definitely are, but…” You broke apart your intimate embrace, much to his dismay. “This isn't for you. I'm going out with a friend.”

“Oh?” Daryl questioned dangerously. He had no problem with you going out late and hanging out with your friends, but God damn it, he was horny.

You turned back to the mirror to fix your hair before you headed out the door. “Yeah, remember Emily? The person I introduced you to at the party?”

He grunted affirmatively.

“We’re just gonna catch up over some drinks, I just felt like putting on something fancy.” You stated matter-of-factly, carefully squeezing past Daryl in the doorway to step down the stairs, him following in tow.

He leaned against the banister of the staircase, arms crossed. “Aight. Have fun.”

“Dar, I won't do anything stupid. I swear.” Your eyes never leave his as you clasped your arms around his neck, emphasizing your seriousness.

Daryl placed a short yet loving kiss to your lips. “I know ya won't. Go on, now.”

You reluctantly separated yourself from him, but not before giving him yet another kiss in response. You both said your goodbyes, and you headed out to visit Emily.

---

The Commonwealth was lively, children’s laughter being heard from afar. You still weren’t that used to the usual hustle and bustle of everyday life there, but you were thankful that, in an apocalypse, this reality can still even exist. You were actually thankful to have a job again. You ran a small clothing shop right next to Princess’ vinyl shop. It was nice. A routine. Safety. Almost like a home.

Despite this, your shared home with Daryl had a tense atmosphere at the moment. He was grumpy all morning, only answering you in one or two word sentences. You tried and tried, pressed until you thought he was going to snap, anything to get him to talk to you. To communicate what he was feeling. But still, nothing. He was never that good at communication, even now. So, you let it go after a while, chalked it up to him waking up on the wrong side of the bed. You couldn’t help but worry if something was wrong, though. If you had done something wrong.

He was out doing God knows what, considering this was his day off from scouting with the Commonwealth Army. Hunting, probably. It’s what he did to get his mind off things. Get his anger out. Whatever he was feeling at that present moment.

Your suspicions were proven incorrect, though, because while you were standing outside your shop to get some fresh air, he seamlessly came into your peripheral view and leaned against the outside wall of the shop. You turned your head towards your husband's figure, and didn’t know how to react to what you saw standing before you.

He was in the outfit he practically lived in, his black jeans and long sleeve black sweater, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. His hair was matted, but still perfectly wavy, framing his face, only a few stray hairs in the way of his eyes. Three deskinned snakes adorned his neck, hanging limply against his chest. That was normal, though. He showed up with dead animals all the time. What was the most jarring, however, was his bloody hands, both of his thumbs hooked into his belt loops. It was almost like he had made absolutely no effort to clean them off in any way. Covered in blood and grime, excess blood dripping off his fingertips and onto the grass below. Dirt underneath his fingernails. Those three thick veins on both hands popping out a little bit more than usual. Almost like he knew that you wanted to see them like that. Imagining how they would look around your ne-

“Ya starin’, sunshine.”

Physically shaking your head, you forcefully broke yourself out of your Daryl induced haze. You cleared your throat and immediately sputtered out, “Nope. Nope. Not at all.” The clothing rack you were standing by suddenly seemed very interesting, so you absentmindedly flipped through the t-shirts, definitely not trying to hide your slightly flustered expression.

He hummed in amusement, and just like that, he was off to the communal kitchen to drop off his successful kill. Once you knew his gaze was out of view, you watched him walk all the way there until he shut the door behind him.

What the fuck?

—

The sheer strangeness of that interaction had you confused. Bewildered. Turned on. What?

You couldn’t focus. Thankfully, it had been a very slow day, only having one person browse the clothing within the last hour. You busied yourself with stock that you had been procrastinating for a few days.

You were about to bring the last box of clothes to the back, but your path there just so happened to include a window, and there was Daryl again, back against a nearby tree, staring at you through the glass. You shifted the box to be held with one arm to offer him an awkward wave. Of course, he did not return this greeting. Instead, he simply pulled something out of his pocket. It was a… peach that was cut in half. All while his half open eyes were locked with yours, he lifted the peach to his mouth, and you expected him to take a bite. What he actually did, however, was take a long lick down the middle with his tongue.

Oh.

He continued this at a purposely slow pace a few more times, and when his tongue went back into his mouth, you thought he was done. But he then raised his opposite hand to the peach and used his middle two fingers to glide over the fruit’s surface. Moving them back and forth, his fingers digging deeper into the squishy substance each time. He had gone about a knuckle deep before he took out his long fingers from the fruit. His fingers were drenched when he raised them up to his mouth and took in both fingers easily. They slid out of his mouth at an excruciatingly slow pace, his lustful gaze intensely boring into yours.

You didn't even know how long you’d been staring or how long your mouth had been agape when you ripped yourself away from the mirror and quickly hid in the back.

Your breathing was heavy and your cunt clenched.

What the fuck?

—

You definitely weren't focused on your job, now. That being effident by the few customers that came in after that interaction having to say your same several times at rising decibel levels to get your attention.

It was only thirty minutes until the end of your government assigned shift, so you resorted to walking around from behind the cashier’s counter to the main floor and pacing back and forth to try and release some of your anxious energy. It wasn’t working that well.

What was Daryl’s deal?

He clearly wasn’t in the mood to talk earlier, but now his mood was bolder. Daring. Flirtatious. It confused, and excited, but mostly confused the hell out of you. What could he be thinking? What reaction is he trying to achieve with this?

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the main entrance door open and heavy boots step on the tile floor below.

“Hey.”

You yelped in fear and snapped your gaze over to the door, only to be met with the man that you were just thinking about. “Jesus, Dar! Scared the shit outta me!”

Instead of apologizing, he stepped closer to the back wall where you were standing and said “Am I th’ one gettin’ ya all worked up? Hm?”

You wanted to retort with a pissy and witty response, but your brain could only muster up a sputtered, “Well- you- I was-”

“Use yer words, baby.”

You bit your cheek and took a deep breath. He was going to be the death of you.

“What the hell is your deal today?” It was a layered question that required a quite lengthy answer.

He didn’t give you that satisfaction, however. He instead stepped forward even more, leaving you with no more room, bumping into the wall behind you. His large hand then raised to your throat, wrapping it around easily, and slid it up, simultaneously raising your chin up to force you to look at him and slightly restricting your air flow. He looked at you like you were his prey, and he was ready to pounce.

“Guess you’ll haveta see.”

You didn’t even have time to process what just happened before he turned around and walked out the door.

What. The fuck.

—

Your heartbeat was noticeably higher as you locked the main entrance door at the end of your shift and started the walk back to your house. This entire day had been a fever dream. You had been racking your brain all day to figure out Daryl’s angle in all of this torture he was springing upon you. Was it a special day? No, Daryl remembered those, you thought back to him telling you that he made an extra effort to remember certain days to make you happy. But this was just a random day.

Was he trying some sort of kink out? You never thought that Daryl was into extra kinky stuff, but if that’s what it was, it was working.

Did he just think getting you all hot and bothered was funny? Some sort of game? This was impossible to crack.

You’ll have to have a talk with him, you thought as you stepped inside your safe haven. You were about to loudly announce your presence, but that proved to be unnecessary when you moved your head to the right, because there he was, and it took everything in you not to drop the keys that you were holding.

He was spread out on the couch that faced the doorway, so he was completely in your view. Both of his arms were resting on either side of him on the back of the couch. His legs were deviously and very obviously spread apart. He was manspreading.

Your mouth watered, and you swallowed hard.

Almost as if on cue, he tilted his head in a mocking manner. God, even him tilting his head had you weak in the knees. He knows you were being tortured. He knows.

“See some’n ya like?

Your eyes unconsciously went to the bulge that was growing his pants. Yes. Yes, you did.

Shaking your head again, you ripped yourself away from his crotch and forced yourself to look at him in his fiery blue eyes, walking more into the living room. “I’m not answering that until you answer my question from earlier.” You spoke almost nonchalantly. Almost.

He shifted, bringing his arms down to cross them across his chest and then crossed one leg over the other. As if he knew you wanted to see more, but he wasn’t allowing you. Not yet.

“‘Member last night when I came home and ya was wearin’ that dress?”

“Of course I do, and I had a nice time last night at Emily’s, thanks for asking.” You tried to sound snappy.

“Wanted ta fuck ya right then n there. Wanted to rip it off ya. Ta fuck ya ‘till ya couldn’t walk fer days.”

Any chance of forming a coherent thought was now lost. He took advantage of your silence and continued.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout ya that night. How I wanted ya so bad and ya just walked out the door without even lettin’ me touch ya. So…” He tilted his head again. “I did the same thing ta you. Made ya all hot ‘n bothered, then left.”

So many thoughts were in your head just then. But one was more prominent than the rest.

“So, you were jealous?” You raised an eyebrow and let a small grin creep onto your face.

“Ya wanna say tha’ again, brat?”

That thoroughly shut you up, your wide doe eyes locked with Daryl’s, the confidence you just expressed suddenly lost.

He raised his head a bit and huffed in amusement. “The teasin’ that I was doin’? Ya liked it, didn’t ya?”

An affirmative nod was all you could muster.

“Words, sweetheart.”

Fuck, he was going to kill you.

You bit your lip in embarrassment. “Yeah. I did.”

With that, he pushed himself off the couch. Within a couple seconds, he was standing right in front of you, his hand being placed on the wall right beside your head. Your eyes flicked down to his lips as a force of habit. He took notice of this and leaned down towards yours, your eyes already closed. But, the kiss never came. He had stopped only a couple inches from your face.

“Yer so needy ‘n I haven't even touched ya.”

A high-pitched whine bubbled up in your throat.

“Need you.”

You didn't even think you were going to say that. It just came out. An honest knee jerk response straight from the depths of your brain. You felt as if the world was going to collapse around you if you didn’t have him buried deep inside you.

Daryl jerked his chin towards your shared bedroom. "Bed." He watched with impassive eyes as your chest heaved with heavy breaths. "Now."

As if a feral animal had possessed you, you hungerly latched onto his chapped lips. He happily returned the passion, gracing you with hot, open-mouthed kisses. He licked your lower lip to gain entrance, and you granted it without a second thought. You leaned into the kiss, craving more. When he leaned back, you were reminded that you were still right next to a wall.

He was a mind reader, you thought. Because right after your head softly impacted with the wall behind you, he grasped the back of your thighs and effortlessly picked you up and supported your weight, all while continuing the fight for dominance with his tongue. You yelped when he squeezed your ass with his large hand, but it was muffled by the mouth that was currently connected to yours. Your arm instinctually wrapped around the back of his neck, while the other grabbed his hair and pulled, desperate to touch any part of him you could.

He fucking growled.

The next thing you knew, you were being gently but firmly tossed onto the king-sized bed. You wasted no time getting your clothes off, and neither did he. Shirts, pants, bras, and vests were discarded to the floor with no care. The room was filled with heavy breaths and anticipation.

He crawled on his hands and knees to get to you, his eyes never leaving yours; a predator stalking his prey. He started marking his territory by sucking and biting your skin, earning a sudden hiss of pleasure from you. The squirming and unholy noises started when he bit and sucked right on the side of your neck, leaving no question who you belonged to. He gazed at his work like an artist admires their newly finished painting.

“Now everyone’ll know who owns ya.” He popped a tit in his mouth and lightly bit your nipple, rolling the other one with his pointer finger and thumb.

You had a vice grip on the sheets, neck straining to see your beloved.

He brought a hand down to your crotch and lightly swiped the area with two fingers, then ran fingers along the inside of the waistband teasingly.

“Dar…” You pleaded.

“Yeah?” He retorted, acting clueless as to what you needed, slowly removing your black panties and throwing them behind him to the floor with the rest of the garments. Neck still straining, you had so many things you wanted to say, but your limited brain function only allowed you to bat your eyelashes at him. He left a trail of purposefully wet kisses from the middle of your abdomen down to the very top of your lips.

“Tell me what ya want, baby.” He teased your sensitive folds with a calloused finger tip, and a deep, mangled breath crawled its way through your throat.

“You. All of you.” You obediently responded. You couldn’t have been more sincere, your words breathy and desperate.

That was all Daryl needed to hear before he eagerly pulled his boxers down, his cock springing to life, the tip already angry and red. You tried so hard to keep your eyes locked with Daryl’s, but your eyes involuntarily flicked to his other head. And it got even harder to concentrate when he got impossibly closer, the tip grazing your folds. Your chest heaved with loud, open mouth breaths.

“Needy little brat.”

A broken yell could be heard throughout the house when he entered you almost entirely.

You clumsily wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to be closer. He could never be close enough. His strong arms were placed on either side of your head to watch and listen to the symphony that you were currently performing for him.

“Mhm. Yeah. Wanna hear ya.” He grumbled softly into your ear, nibbling the lobe below.

Your mind had already gone blank, now filled with only thoughts of Daryl. How good he was making you feel. How deep his voice could go when he wanted it to. How he hit your sweet spot just right. Daryl. Daryl. Daryl.

Judging by his weak chuckling, you must’ve said that last part out loud.

You were in absolute bliss, mouth agape and eyes starting to roll and seeing stars, and Daryl couldn’t get enough of it. One of his favorite things about sex wasn’t his own pleasure, but yours. Giving it to you and seeing how you react while doing it.

“Feel so good. Fuck. So good.” The words came tumbling out of your mouth, no thought behind them. Pure honesty and ecstasy.

Daryl could tell you weren’t going to last long.

In an act of lust driven confidence, he propped himself up on his left forearm resting on your upper abdomen, while his other arm gripped the hair close to your scalp and yanked. Hard.

A high-pitched gasp filled the air. Your core became unimaginably tighter, begging for a release.

Daryl grunted through a half open mouth while giving you another hickey near your clavicle, roughly biting down just enough to hurt but not break the skin. His hazy eyes bore into you before he crashed down onto your lips, his hot breaths only exciting you more. “Let go, (Y/N.) I got ya.” He huffed in between when he was basically eating you alive.

Your insides became white hot fire. A mangled scream ripped through your throat, everything going blurry. You went limp on the bed, unmoving except your labored breathing. Daryl was in the same catatonic state but had his forehead pressed against yours so you could clearly see his sweaty and exhausted state. You both lay there for a few moments in sweet content silence. When you brought a hand up to stroke his cheek, he smiled.

“So, ya gonna wear that dress again?”

“Oh my God.”

Of fucking course you were.

[luveline]

Hiiii I’m new to ur page but such a huge fan of ur writing already, ur so talented. Could u maybe do one with Spencer where he thinks reader doesn’t fully understand how much he loves them so he goes on a rant about how deeply connected he feels to them, and how he pictures life with them etc??

Pls forgive me if this is a weird ask, I’m slightly new to fanfic culture lmao

thank you! ♡

"It's not a small thing," Spencer's saying. 

Honestly, you've been half catatonic against his side for an hour watching Ancient City reruns while he fact checks the conspiracy theorists —nothing feels big now besides the urge to nap on him. You already knew that the pyramid wasn't built by aliens, and Spencer has the facts to prove it. 

He's quite passionate about it, apparently. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" he asks. 

"Yeah," you mumble, digging your face further into his arm. Comfiest boyfriend ever. Spencer's arm tugs up and over your shoulders to hug you closer, your eyes shutting of their own accord at the increase in cosiness. "I do. Promise" 

"Good! Because I worry sometimes that you don't get it." 

"Of course I get it, angel," you say, wrapping your arm across his stomach. Exhausted, you lift yourself up to press a quick kiss to his chin before giving in to fatigue and squishing your face against his shoulder. "It's the Egyptians, we did this in middle school." 

He doesn't hear your mumbling, far too wrapped up in his rant. "Everyone says that nothing else compares, and you believe them, but you don't really get it until you're there. Until you're actually feeling it." 

"You've been to the pyramids?" you ask, more to yourself than him.

"Beauty's just one fraction of it, too. It's a nicely sized fraction, I promise, but when you compare it to everything else… there's just so much there. I feel it in my chest sometimes when I'm talking to you, it honestly makes me feel a little sick, but in a good way?" 

You hum appreciatively, murmuring, "It's a beautiful place. So much culture and history." 

"It's like we're connected, like we're magnets. It's a pull." Spencer rubs the place between your shoulders exactly the way you like. You'd fall asleep from his loving ministrations, but he's starting to sound super intense, almost too intense, a hair's width from stressed. 

You had no idea Spencer was this passionate about Egyptian landmarks. 

"That's nice, honey," you say, trying to mask your apprehension.

Spencer cups the back of your head, the scratch of his stubble catching your softer skin as he talks, "I think about you and me and it feels right. I picture our life together automatically, there's no other possibilities for me. I love you so much and I know you said you get it, but I don't think you do. It doesn't feel real to me how much I care about you." 

There's a subtle roughness to his voice as he hugs you. 

You weasel yourself backward in the circle of his arms to look him up at his pretty face, perplexed. "Are you talking about me?" 

"Yeah. Of course I am. Who else would I be talking about?" he asks, mirroring your frown. 

You glance at the TV. It's on mute. "I thought you were still talking about the pyramids, Spence," you say, turning back to him. "You were really talking about me?" 

"You'd hope," he says, twisting his finger into your shirt sleeve. Spencer laughs, a belly of a sound with shaking shoulders and bouncing curls. "Can you imagine if I felt that deeply about the pyramids? I mean, they're really interesting. They're still uncovering secret tunnels inside Giza with no clear openings or exits, believed to lead to hidden rooms." He squeezes your arm. "That would be a really cool place to vacation." 

You take a moment to stare at him. You don't really get it until you're there. Until you're actually feeling it. It's like we're connected, like we're magnets. It's a pull. Spencer's been penning a love letter to you for the last five minutes and you were too dozy to get it the first time.

You cup his face in both hands, your fingers perched against high cheekbones, threading into soft curls as you brush them from his face. "I love you that much, too," you say softly. 

"I know that. I was making sure that you knew it was mutual. I'd build pyramids for you." He pulls your hands from his face to hold. "You're way more tired than I thought." 

"'M not that tired," you lie, settling back into his chest. Your voice is imbued with a sickly, almost smug type of love. "You're just comfortable."

[quintinh43]

Simple Truths Pt. 2 | Quinn Hughes

Summary: Part 2 of simple truths, aka the aftermath of Y/n's confession. [Find Part 1. Here]

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some angst, depictions of anxiety, smut (Very fade to black)

Notes: Part twoooooo!! I'm excited!! Hope yall enjoy. Love Soph.

Wc: 2.2k

---

Everything sounded muted, like his head was under water. It feels like his feet are cemented to the floor. He can't move. His ears are ringing, with the sound of your voice.

I have loved you for six years. I haveloved you for six years. I have lovedyou for six years. I have loved you for sixyears. Ihavelovedyouforsixyears.

He wants to say I love you too, Y/n, with every fiber of my being. But for some reason, the space where you were standing is empty, your absence is mocking. Gone, gone gonegonego-

Every overwhelming feeling that he came to you with last night floods his system like a tidal wave. He failed you. Quinn's lungs are being sqeezed. There is not enough room for air in his chest. All he wants to do is collapse into the safety of your arms and have you breathe the air back into his lungs.

But you're gone. His safe haven has run away, and it's his fault. Quinn counts to three and breathes. He steels himself. Now is not the time for panicking. He needs to find you right fucking now.

In his brief catatonic state, he recalls the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. With that knowledge, he reaches for his phone and calls your contact. On the first ring, he hears your phone buzz beside your abandoned dinner.

"Fuck" he murmers, the panic swelling in his chest. It's cold, and dark, and you're outside all alone with no way for anyone to reach you.

Quinn slips on his shoes and jacket, as quickly as he can with shaking hands, and then he's running. Taking the stairs two at a time because he needs to be with you right now.

The cool air eases the tension in his lungs a bit, and he feels his senses coming back to him. He's sprinting. In the direction of the park where you like to run, and somehow in his bones, he knows that's where you'll be.

And then, it's raining. It starts as a drop here and there against his face as he runs.  Within minutes, the light drizzle becomes a full-on downpour. It's as if the sly knows he's in pain. All Quinn can find himself thinking is that he doesn't remember if you took a jacket when you left.

He makes it to the park, clothes soaked complearly through and teeth chattering of their own accord. The thick downpour makes it hard to see more than a few feet infront of him. But as he walks through the park, he catches the outline of your silhouette standing in the sand and staring out at the ocean.

He's sprinting again. And then he's hovering in front of you, heartbreaking as he takes in your shaking form. Raindrops and tears mix on your cheeks, and your breath hitches from crying. He can't tell if you're shaking from the rain or the sobbing. Maybe it's both.

Before you can take off again, he grabs your wrist, pulling you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you to keep you there. His eyes search yours desperately, for something other than hurt.

"I love you too" he murmers, brushing the soft pad of his thumb across your cheek, wiping away tears and raindrops alike.

"You love me?" Your voice is small, so unsure, unwilling to latch onto the hope of his words lest you heard him wrong. He nods, "with every fiber of my soul Y/n, I love you so so much"

A sob racks your chest, and this time it's relief.

"Im gonna kiss you now" he says softly. Then he's pressing his lips against yours. Its not like the movies. There is no fireworks in your stomach. His lips are cold and wet from the rain, but somehow it's better than anything you could've imagined.

Kissing Quinn feels like coming home.

It's comfort after a long day at work. It's cooking dinner together in the evenings. It's cheering him on as he absolutely dominates a game. It's running together in the mornings, and it's sinking into eachothers arms at night.

"Y/n" his lips move against yours, not wanting to pull away just yet "you are my person. You're the person I want to come home to every night, the person In my corner, cheering me on. You make me better. And if it wasn't for you I wouldn't be who I am today."

He kisses the corner of your mouth before he continues "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you I loved you sooner. I never wanted to make you feel that way" his voice is weighed down with vulnerability.

"It's ok, Quinn," you murmur, brushing his wet hair out of his face. You aren't sure if that's the right response, but it's all you have. Because truthfully, everything will be ok. Because now you have Quinn. "It's ok, everything is ok." You press a kiss to his cheek."You make everything ok."

He wants to more, but the words won't come. He takes your hand, placing it against his chest. "Can you feel the love I have for you?" He asks, quiet, desperate. His words are failing him, but he needs you to know.

And in that moment, with your hand on his chest, it's as if he's opened his heart and is pouring all his love into you. It floods your body with enough warmth to chase away the chill of the rain. You nod, hands caressing his cheeks, and you pull him into another kiss that conveys what words can not.

The two of you are so lost in each other, that when thunder booms, you jump. Teeth clanging against eachother. Quinn hisses, touching his bleeding lip.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," you mumble, cheeks burning with embarrassment as you gently swipe the blood away from his lip. We wrap's a hand around your wrist with a throaty chuckle, placing a kiss to your palm.

"Let's get home," he smiles. He doesn't ask 'my place or yours' because as long as you're together, you are home.

He unzips his jacket and holds it over your heads, pulling you into his side. The walk back to your apartment is silent, but it's comfortable. The flashes of lighting dance across Quinns face in the most alluring way.

"Why do you suppose it took so long for us to confess our love for each other?" You ask quietly. You don't expect him to have an actual answer, but you want to hear his thoughts.

Quinn shrugs. "Everything happens for a reason. Who knows why it took so long. Maybe it's so we could have a super romantic and epic story at our wedding about I chased you into the rain to confessed my undying love for you" he smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You snort, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Yeah, the only thing that could make the story more epic and romatic is if one of us got hit by a car or something."

Quinns glare is so full of heat that it scares you a little."Y/n, don't even joke about that,"

"Sorry" you mutter sheepishly, tapping your fingers against his arm.

The walk back to your apartment continues to be uneventful thank God , unless you count the doorman glaring at the two of you for dripping all over the apartment lobby and elevator.

You pat your pockets, looking for your keys. Unfortunately, you didn’t think to bring in your distressed takeoff. "I don't have keys," you mutter, looking at Quinn with hope that he had his.

Thankfully, Quinn had left his keys in his jacket pocket from earlier. He unlocks the door, ushering you in front of him. Your stomach rumbles as you lay eyes on the beautiful dinner you and Quinn had made. "Let's shower and then eat," you say, dragging him towards the bathroom.

"Wait- i- togeather?" He whispers, a dusting of pink across his cheeks as you turn on the shower and start to pull your shirt over your head.

"Quintin, if you think I'm letting you out of arms reach for the rest of the night, you are very, very incorrect," you say, tossing your shirt in your laundry basket.

"Are you sure, baby? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable." he says softly, reaching for you. His hands dance over your shivering shoulders. Your skin is so so cold.

"Quinn," you throw your arms around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss, "You could never make me uncomfortable. Now get naked baby," you say, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. 

Quinn grins at you and kisses you one more time before stripping off his wet clothes and tossing them alongside yours in the laundry bin. His eyes rake over your body appreciatively as you grab his hand and drag him into the shower.

Even though this is new territory for you both, it feels natural. It's not awkward, nither of you feel self-conscious. You sigh as the warm water hits your shoulders, and your teeth finally stop chattering.

"Let me show you how much I love you," Quinn whispers against your shoulder.

Your stomach flutters at his offer, "as much as I would love that, our first time is not gonna be in the shower," you say, planting a small kiss on his collarbone. Quinn gives you a soft smile and nods. A promise glinting in his stormy eyes.

You beg Quinn to let you wash his hair. And it's the best thing he's experienced. Decidedly, he is never washing his own hair again. And when he takes the loofah from your hands and scrubs you down with such care, decidedly you are never scrubbing yourself down again.

You change both changes into sweats and hoodies, still cold from being in the rain for quite some time. "I'm starved, let's eat."

Quinn pops the steak in the oven to reheat it, while you toss the veggies in a frying pan. Once the food is ready, the two of you curl up on the couch, in favour of sitting at the table. True to your words you are not willing to let him more than an arms length distance away from you. And nither is he.

Once the two of you have finished eating, you load the plates into the dishwashe together and then go back to the couch. Quinn flops down and opens his arms towards you. You flop down ontop of him with a grin, laying your head on his chest. His hands dip under your (his) hoodie and trace patterns into your skin.

"Do you still want me to move in with you?" You ask, playing with the hair at the base of his neck.

"Of course baby, even more so now." He hums pressing a kiss to top of your head, "tomorrow is just morning practice so if its ok with you, I'll bribe some of the guys into helping me move your stuff?"

You scrunch your nose. "I don't wanna break my lease. It's done in June."

"I'll pay it off"

"Quinn, I can't let y-"

He pulls back to look at you, "No listen, before we got together I basically lived at your place half the time anyways. At this point we are both gonna be paying rent and living in one apartment. Let me just pay off your lease." There's a pleading look in his eyes. "Please" he whispers, tracing his knuckles over your cheek gently.

You sigh in defeat, his reasoning makes sense, but you'll still feel bad if pays off your lease. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I need, baby." he grins, pulling you in for a kiss. Ever since the two have gotten back to the apartment, you have pulled each other for kisses at every chance possible.

You turn over, straddling his lap, and lean down to kiss him. Your hands dip under his hoodie, warm against his abs. "Are we doing this now?" He asks breathlessly as you trail kisses down his jaw.

"If you want to" you murmur against his skin.

"Yes, yes I do want to" he groans out, as you grind your hips against his. His hands find their way under the waistband of your sweats, and he grips your hips almost bruisingly, controlling the movements of your hips.

"Bedroom," you murmer, attaching your lips to his once again as he stands up, cradling you in his arms and carries you to the bedroom. He tosses you on the bed, and in the time that you are apart from each other, you both hurriedly strip off your clothing, tossing it aside.

"You're so beautiful," he murmers, crawling between your legs. He trails kisses along your jaw, down your neck and to your chest, while his hand creeps up your thigh.

"Show me how much you love me," you whisper, locking your legs around his hips. Quinn nods fervently. He kneels between your the alter of your legs and worships the temple that is your body, like he is the greatest sinner who walked the earth.

You fall asleep tangled in eachothers arms, and in the morning, when Quinn tries to convice you to skip your run in favour of a different type of cardio, you agree heartily as you grind against him. Quinn laughs as you drag the sheets over your heads and kiss him like he is air, and you are drowning.

And now that Quinn is yours, your heart feels full. Your home feels stable, and your smile is unbreakable. The future doesn't look so scary with Quinn by your side.

---

Taglist: @coldheartedmar @luviesjac

[thelaisydazy]

I saw your firefighter post! And I didn’t know if it was recent!! So I’ll drop one in! Firefighter141 x reader. Where captain price leads his team on a call for a burning down old run down cottage! And that’s when they meet you- a sweet southern girl! Whose food she cooks and words are TOOTH - ROTTING. I like to think firefighter141! Live in like a sorta deserted town. With a diner here and there and cottages! So a burning Down cottage is a BIG thing! And they’re so caring and protective of you! I hope you enjoy this asks as much as I am! - 🎀

I love the idea of them in a little middle-of-nowhere town with just a few things around. I'm mandating a forest as well though.

Not sure if this is exactly what you're looking for, but this made me want to write Price comforting the Cottagecore Cutie.

---

You're shaking. Your world is crashing down, and all you can do is stand in place in front of your perfect little cottage, watching uselessly as it burns down. 

You don’t hear the sirens. You don’t acknowledge the arms that wrap around you, leading you away from the footpath leading to your front door. You sit on the cool metal of the fire engine.

“You’re alright luv,” the firefighter says. Behind him, the small brigade starts in on your home, fighting the blaze that ruins it. A gloved hand gently touches your cheek, drawing you from your catatonic state and to the man in front of you. 

Captain Price. 

“Stay with me sweet thing,” he says. “Is there anyone else inside?” You shake your head and he reports into his radio. “What happened?”

“I.. I don’t..” you start, trailing off. You’d been baking. You were always baking something. Tears sting your eyes as Price shushes you gently. 

“Just breathe,” he coos. Seeing you still shaking, he shrugs off his massive jacket and drapes it over you. It smells of cigars and something woodsy, it’s comforting. 

“I was making cookies,” you finally say. “I left the room for just a minute, and there was a boom and-”

“Your gas line broke,” Price supplied. Your cottage was outfitted with old appliances, it wasn’t surprising something failed. He reached for his radio. “Johnny, find the gas main and shut it off.”

Tears stung at your eyes. “I.. I’m sorry,” you hiccup, guilt weighing in your chest. Everything was gone. Your home, all your belongings, everything. Before you can say much else, Price’s strong arms pull you into his chest, wrapping you in his warmth. 

“It’s not your fault luv,” he says. “You’re safe and that’s all that matters.” 

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Take Me To Church (Hozier)

I was born sick, but I love it/Command me to be well/A-, Amen, Amen, Amen/Take me to church/I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies/I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife/Offer me that deathless death/Good God, let me give you my life

“1. It’s Hozier, what do you expect? 2. Worship imagery... (I don’t know why I like it, but I do.)”

Against the Kitchen Floor (Will Wood)

And I swear! I will die trying!/I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress; I promise I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible, I swear!/I'm so fucking sorry! I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all, But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all!

Less rare than scarce, less diamond then rough/Unlikely to be more than just the coal you failed to crush

I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"/I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor/Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

The vertex of my redemption arc/I’m searching on that virgin heart

"The raw emotion! And I strongly relate to desperately wanting to improve for someone you love. I belt out this song when I feel really hopeless"

"my one OC. also me. also it's just a really good song. one of will's best imo. screaminbg"

"Literally hits almost all of my self-esteem issues. Feeling like people only care about you for your body? Check. Not understanding why anyone would want you? Check. Thinking that all you do is hurt people? Check. I don't cry very often but this song DEFINITELY made me teary"

"one of those if u aren’t paying attention to the lyrics ur like this is nice but once u hear them its an OW holy OW and guilt and I’m sorry feelings"

"Just. Loving someone but not feeling like you’re good enough and trying to improve."

"Not only does this song have lyrics that are deeply relatable to me, but this song also feels very deeply personal to the artist and I feel that anyone who listens to it for the first time has that same feeling of getting punched in the gut. Just the lyrics and the melody and Will Wood’s vocals make this song an absolute masterpiece and I cry every time I hear it."

"One reason I'm attached to this song is because my friend sent it to me and said "I'm kin assigning you this song" and ruined my life (/j) It messed me up because I've always had a hard time in my life figuring myself out and dealing with my emotions, and for what feels like the first time, this song has been able to near perfectly describe how I feel about myself and my impact on other people, and it always just meant so much to me that my friend who sent it to me knows me better than I know myself and shared the song with me and I love them dearly."

Against the Kitchen Floor submitted by @pixopolis + others

[webshood]

please give your thoughts on the rest of the top 10 worst tropes in batfam fanon ! 🙏🙏 jason being tims caregiver is so ickyyyy

Top 10 worst tropes in the batfam fandom:

1 • Fanon Tim Drake

I'm not even the biggest Tim Drake fan, but that's not him. Y'all slapped Tim's name and parents (sometimes) on a random white boy (or a hyper feminine asian guy) and called it a day, he was never left alone at the Drake manor, his physical needs were always meet at his boarding school, he never had to make do with a can of pasta and a birthday candle, he never had to be homeless, he never went out at night on the rooftops of Gotham to take photos of Batman and Robin, Jason wasn't his Robin. His parents may be emotionally neglectful, but they never feed him food he was allergic to and made him go into anaphylactic shock. He's not a coffee addict, uwu bottom who had to do honeypot missions. Don't even get me started on how weird it is the increase of asian Tim headcanons/fancasts/face claims after he became canonically bi. (asian artists/creators not included)

2 • Cheater/Slut Dick Grayson

I'm all for characters being sexually liberated, but having the rroma character, which is a ethnicity not well perceived and sexualized to the nines, be the one who always cheats on his partners and can't keep his legs closed, who always just has to go do the undercover stripper or sex worker job, reducing his intelligence and personality just to have him act as a bimbo boytoy who's only personality traits is his butt and cocaine, like... It's giving racism babes

3 • Infantilized Cassandra Cain

Cass is a adult woman with a learning disability, not a five year old child, it's hard for people to even write Cass that much, but when they do it's so full of stereotypes that makes me gag, having her only use sign language is a small mercy from having her articulate words like a toddler and having the other characters coddle and act like she doesn't have the mental capacity to function in society when she's such a complex character, who, despite her lack of academic knowledge knows so much about people and compassion, it's lazy writing

4 • Caretaker Jason Todd

Kinda wild to have the guy who spent a good chunk of his life looking after his sick addict mother become the caretaker of a guy who's *checks notes* barely three years younger (Jason spent one year catatonic, so it's arguably) than him and just couldn't look after himself bc he *checks notes again* neglects his own body's needs bc he's a dumbass, like, oh but it's not little Timmy's fault, he has been born with glass bones and paper skin, every morning he breaks his legs and every afternoon he breaks his arms, every night he stays awake on his bed in agony, until his coffee induced heart attack puts him to sleep.

To be continued, I'mma write the rest later bc I'm sleepy asf rn

[skepticalkoi-catastrophe]

𝙏𝙧𝙮𝙣𝙖 𝙁𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙑𝙤𝙞𝙙

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst/Fluff, Hurt/ Comfort, Best Friends to Lovers, Exes to Best Friends, Hinted Exes to Lovers

Warnings: Mentions of physical harm to y/n (bruises).

Word count: 461

PART 1 HERE

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 「1:55am」 - "Seeing you again brought everything back."

Heavy gray obscures the sky. Raindrops racing down the windows at the same time you're caught staring at him in a catatonic stupor.

His outstretched hand drops sharply from your clothed injury. At the foot of his bed, he rests, massaging the back of his neck. There's a sour taste in your mouth awaiting his oncoming words. You might as well be back under your umbrella the night the music died.

"Don't." You exhale, pleadingly gazing out the window. Those raindrops may as well run down your cheeks, too.

Looking through his long lashes, refusal of acceptance burns bright in Jinwoo's cold glare. "People called me crazy for letting you get away. And they were right."

Your mirthless smile goes hand in hand with your emotional mourning at his statement. Why wait now to want you back?

"We were both so hurt that we didn't see how much the other one was hurting." You affirm, arms remaining at your sides.

Jinwoo stammers. "Yes, but I'm sorry for how it ended. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

You're taken aback, some of your tension releasing from your shoulders. The atmosphere that of a boa constrictor between you two. You kept up your end of the bargain when the metaphorical house of cards came crashing. Three months' time to the day when you and him couldn't take it anymore.

Apart from the ever so slight proximity you couldn't face him. There's no point mustering up the courage. You're not afraid. You're exhausted.

"We fought, and you thought that meant we shouldn’t be together. Couples fight. Fighting is healthy."

He returns your gaze through the windows' reflection, dispatching a disquieting jolt through your limbs.

What's worst, the fact that your dating anniversary is two weeks from today or that you're back in his room, in his clothes, under his care just as you were prior?

Deafening thunder booms as the sound waves from the lightning reach your ears.

You bite back a lie. To tell the truth would allow for your emotions to run away with your mouth. "It seemed like the right thing at the time. We weren't ready for it."

Jinwoo tracks your every step as you draw nearer. The mattress dips beside him during which you lay down in fetal position.

He continues his visual exploration, searching for a sign in your soft features. A sign of hope. A new beginning.

"Do you think we are now?" He asks earnestly.

Hell could not fathom your need to let go contrarily to your want for the unrealistic. Jinwoo mimics your actions, laying back onto the bed. With glossy eyes, you shift closer and place your hand on his chest. His steady heartbeat beneath your palm.

"I don't want this with anybody else."

Please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

Thoughts on cuddling/lying on top of Matt on quiet nights in? Head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you and all that

//hiii anon! i love cuddly matt so of course, anything for you <3

There's a long-abandoned audiobook playing throughout Matt's apartment, because you fell asleep around ten minutes after he put it on, and when you're on top of him like this, it's pretty clear that he is consumed by you.

He gently rubs up and down your back as his eyes grow heavy. You're asleep, sure, but your ear is pressed against his chest. You had fallen asleep not to the monotone reading of the audiobook, but to the thump of his heartbeat.

When he's close like this, when you know for absolutely certain that he's alive and there's no possibility of him slipping through your fingers, you feel calmer.

Matt has spent his entire life with people leaving him, but you're sure that you'd be absolutely catatonic if something ever were to happen to him.

The pair of you are so interconnected that if anything were to happen to either of you, the other would cease to exist. There is no you without Matt, and there is no Matt without you.

He quietly presses a soft kiss to your head as he drifts off, not listening to the audiobook, the sounds of car alarms or people yelling out in the city, but just your breathing.

He knows you're asleep, so he allows himself to mumble sweet nothings to you as he finally falls asleep.

"I'm gonna marry you one day, sweetheart. Gonna make you so happy.." He yawns as he pulls you closer. "Just gotta figure out how to ask you.."

He just wants to give you a love story you deserve. He isn't as worried about you saying yes.

[jasmines-library]

I'll Make This Up To You

WHUMPTOBER DAY SIX: Prompt: made to watch

Summary: after being kidnapped by the joker, Jason is forced to watch you being tortured when you beg to take his place.

Warning: Blood, beating, gore, cursing, punctured lung.

Word count: 1.3k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Your entire body throbbed. Your wrists hung limply from rusty chains that dangled from the ceiling. Your bare toes struggled to relieve the burning that spread down your arms and into the sockets of your shoulders. Your toes hardly skimmed the floor, not providing you with a fraction of release from the agony in your shoulders. The groaning and clanging of the chains on the other side of the room alerted you to the other presence nearby. He was still wearing his black suit with the red bat insignia printed across his chest. 

“Hood?” You murmured from across the room, trying to grab his attention. The boy groaned, bleary eyed before mumbling your name lowly in response.

“Are you okay?” He asked, testing the strength of his chains albeit to find that he was firmly stuck. 

“Yeah” You blinked groggily. “What happened? I don’t remember anything besides-”

A blinding light piercing through the darkness. Shattering glass, a scream. Then nothing.

“The crash.” Jason finished for you. 

You were about to speak again; to utter another string of words when you were silenced by a catatonic laughter. 

The Joker barged his way through the double doors to the room. They slammed loudly against the wall as he pushed up his sleeves. Although Jason was still wearing his mask, you could sense the fear rising in his body and you could practically see the way his eyes dilated with fear.

“Isn’t this nice?” He grinned, walking around the two of you. “My two favourite birdies all in one place.”

He smiled a toothy grip his face too close to yours for comfort before whipping back around to Jason and wiggling his fingers. “How’s it hanging Little Robin? Did ya miss me?”

Jason tried to recoil from the man before him, but the chains only allowed him to swing feebly back and forth. This elicited another manic laugh from the Joker. 

“Now, I would say that I'm sorry to do this to you again, but that would be a lie.”

He ran his finger along Jason’s hooded jawline, before trailing his fingers down to his neck and to the hem of his mask which he tore from his face. 

“Hiya, Jaybird.” He said, giving him a wink. Jason stiffened at the nickname. “Oh how I missed this pretty face.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

The Joker pulled back, placing a hand to his chest in mock hurt and cackling once more. “Your words wound me, Jason. Like father like son I see.”

The sound of an old, metal cart being pushed with a squeaky wheel by one of his goons filled the room. On top of it lay an assortment of weapons and tools, two of which you identified as yours. Another man tugged in an old camera. “I think it’s time that we send the bat a message.” his fingers danced along the edge of the tray, before he picked up a small knife and twirled it between his digits. “He needs to stop getting on my last nerve and you, my little birdy, need to learn to keep your mouth shut.”

His last sentence was exaggerated with a swing of his arm, which landed a well placed cut to Jason's cheek. 

“Hey!” You yelled, squirming against your restraints. “Get the fuck away from him!”

The suit-clad man spun around slowly, tilting his head and the knife towards you.

“Oh? The little bird has something to say. Tell me, Y/N,” He provoked as his goon removed your mask from your face. “What are you gonna do about it? What are you gonna do when I drive your very own knife through your beloved Jaybird’s heart? Hmm?”

“I told you to leave him alone.” You spat back in his face. 

The Joker's eyes turned dark as he narrowed them coldly at you. His grin dropped as he turned back around and slashed another line against Jason’s face. He grunted, eyes wide as he began to relive his past time with the villain. You felt your heart clench; you couldn’t let him go through that. Not again. You couldn’t watch as he tried to fix himself. You couldn’t watch him suffer again. 

“Stop it!” You yelled at him, only for the other man to cover your mouth firmly with his hand. You fought hard, shouting until your voice went hoarse. “Please…hurt me instead.”

The Joker stopped, a shit eating grin exaggerated across his features. “Smile for the camera.”

~~~

Your head hung limply, chin resting on your chest. Blood trickled down your temple, oozed from your nose and clung to almost every inch of your skin. Inch deep cuts lay littered across your skin, along with a multitude of  The sound that left your mouth was barely a scream as he drove the knife into the flesh of your thigh. 

Jason had tried to keep from crying out; each yell or vulgar comment leaving you with another scar to add to your collection, or another fingernail ripped out from its bed, but he couldn’t bear to watch you suffer in place of him. It made his stomach twist into knots. He prayed that Tim would be able to hack the livestream that Joker was feeding to the cave and reach you before something fatal happened.

Jason squirmed in the chains. They clanked together loudly. “Leave her alone!”

The man tutted before you, turning away and leaving the knife lodged within the muscle.The vigilante was about to let out a sigh of relief when he watched the Joker's fingers dance over the various bloodied tools and towards the wooden bat. 

Before the dark-haired boy could make another sound, the bat was slammed into your ribs. You gasped, eyes flying open as you swung on the chains. You heaved a ragged gasp as he swung hard again, crying out as you felt your ribs shatter. You let out a haggard cough, tasting the copper on your tongue as your blood coated the inside of your mouth and then dribbled from your chapped lips. The rib had punctured a lung.  

The villain's laughter morphed with the chorus your screaming and Jason’s shouting. The wooden bat clattered on the floor, but was soon replaced by Jason’s pistol. He cried out loudly.  “I hope you’re watching, Batsy.” Joker, picked up the camera, zooming in on your face. “I want you to see the light leave her eyes.”

“I’ll do you one better.” A voice sounded behind him.

Looking over his shoulder, the villain was greeted with the dark cowl of Batman’s suit. The taller man grabbed the villain, swinging him into the wall. The three other boys jumped into action, tackling the goons. Fueled with anger and determination, it didn’t take long before they were releasing you from the shackles that tugged agonisingly on your body. 

You landed in a heap on the floor, wheezing loudly as Jason collapsed to his knees beside you, fingers pressing harshly against your thigh. You whimpered. 

“I’m sorry. Stay with us, I'm sorry.”

“I’m fine- ” You coughed trying to dismiss Jay’s worry. You didn’t want him to feel any guiltier than you knew he already did. Your head dizzied as you were hoisted into the air by a strong pair of arms. 

“I’m sorry.” He repeated it like a mantra. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

You shook your head. “Jay…this is not your fault.”

“But-”

You cut him off with another ragged cough, spilling more blood from your lips. He forced his legs to move further. 

“Not your fault.”

Instead of fighting back, he decided to pull you closer. “I’m gonna get you fixed up Y/N. I promise. I will make this up to you.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY FIVE ⛤ DAY SEVEN ->

🏷️ taglist

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Puppy Love / Kid Vaggie Crossover

Thank you, @intrinsicepiphany for the fun idea!

Hazbins: (scrambling around the hotel while carrying cushions and pillows)

Kid Vaggie: (flying around the ceiling, weaving through lights and chandeliers, and giggling) Weeeeee~

Charlie: Vaggie! Vaggie! You've been up there for an hour, sweetheart! Can you please come down before your wings give out?

-KNOCK!!! KNOCK!!! KNOCK!!!-

Emily: (squeaks through the door of the hotel) Hi, Charlie! Sorry for dropping in last minute. Sera wanted to get those reports on-

Kid Vaggie: Yaaaawwwwwn~ (droopy eyes) Nigh-Night.... (slowly coasts down to the ground)

Charlie: I can't believe I'm saying this, but, Emily, catch her! It's Vaggie!

Emily: (looks up and sees a sleeping, curled up Kid Vaggie sucking her thumb and gliding in her direction) Hup! (jumps up with a flap of her wings and catches Vaggie, cradling her in her arms) I got her!

Charlie: Whew! Thank you so much!

Emily: (slowly fluttering back to the ground) Now, what did you say about Vaggie? And who is this adorable little cherub?

Charlie: Her. That's literally Vaggie. For some reason, she transformed into a toddler. First, it was me, and then-

Emily: (blushes brightly as she looks down at the sleeping toddler in her arms. Daydreams suddenly whirl through her mind in rapid succession)

Scene 1: Emily and Vaggie on a moonlit date in heaven.

Scene 2: Vaggie kneeling down on one knee with a ring box and Emily flapping her wings excitedly as she cries.

Scene 3: Wedding in Heaven with Charlie being Emily's Maid of Honor and Vaggie wearing a full suit.

Scene 4: Vaggie wearing slacks and a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and her hands on a prominent baby bump under Emily's dress.

Scene 5: Emily laying in bed with a newborn baby. Baby has dark skin, white freckles, silver hair and wings, and pink eyes. Vaggie is holding Emily's hand while kissing the new mother tenderly on the head.

Emily: (catatonic, blushing, sweating, and wobbly on her feet)

Charlie: Whoa! (takes Kid Vaggie before Emily can faint) Emily, are you okay?!

Emily: (shuffles over to the window, gets on her knees, and prays) Our Holy Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come-

Charlie: Uhhhhh.... (glances at sleeping Vaggie in her arms and gets similar daydream scenes buzzing through her mind but replaced herself with Emily as she heats up exponentially) Whoooooooooooa.... wobbly...... need to sit down.

Angel: Whoa! I gotcha! (catches Charlie and sits her down in the chair next to where Emily is still praying) I'll take Vags up to her room and put her to bed. (grabs Vaggie and gets similar daydreams but with Husker and having a perfect cat-spider baby) Yikes! Okay, that makes sense. Let's get this little pipsqueak to bed so I can stop daydreaming.

[heuffopla]

🎶I'm catatonic in your arms, crying "how did I cause so much harm ?🎵

[saplingwoosh]

Hear me out: Blitzø in Against the Kitchen Floor by Will Wood

I don't owe you my heart, and I don't owe you my body But you should know that I'm sorry for being careless with you

Lord knows I owe you more than I'm pretty sure I ever could give anybody

But I can't pin down what normal people want from foreign objects Bottom shelf erotic products like me

So, I could hold your hand but keep you at arm's length Or, hang me from a branch too high to climb and shake

Less rare than scarce, less diamond than rough Unlikely to be more than just the coal you fail to crush

And I swear I'm really trying Get it together, Will Blitzø, know and do better

It just don't come natural to me to think that you'd want me for mе

I swear, I'm really trying Oh, I'm sorry, I promise, I'm doing my best

I just haven't learned how to be human as you are yet

...

I still don't know who you are, I only know that I'm still lonely

That morbid sort where even company can't cure me

And the more you reassure, the less I trust

But still you gave me your heart, I only gave you my body

Honestly thought nobody'd want it, let alone notice it's gone And so I left it home, but now, now, now, now

I keep a locket with a picture of the back of my head Oh, monkey-wrench my side view mirrors, ghost my friends

I've lived more lives than enough, I haven't died quite as much But I'm not a real person, just the shit you can't make up

And I swear I'm really trying I'm just as exposed if I take off my clothes

When we make the closest thing to love that I'm capable of

And I don't know why you would care, but I'm really trying Oh, I'm sorry, I promise, I'm doing my best

I just haven't learned how to be human as you are yet

... ...

Did I really have any of that gravity? Maybe you're quicksand

Because I really couldn't tell how deep my footprints went

The vertex of my redemption arc, the searching on that virgin heart I'm catatonic in your arms, crying, "How did I cause so much harm?"

I'm down pounding my head against the kitchen floor Apologizing for my life and ever entering yours

Don't say "I'm sorry, but this can't go on," I know you've got scars of your own

But hide my knives before you go

I'll either live or die alone

I swear I will die trying

I'm still in the process, but I'm making progress I promise, I honestly wanna prove improvement's possible

I swear, I'm so fucking sorry

I'm not a good person, I'm barely a person at all But someday I'll be perfect, and I'll make up for it all

...anyone else?

[luveline]

hi jade! <3 i love love love your writing! and i wanted to ask and if possible would you write zombie au steve comforting reader through a bout of depression? if not that’s totally okay!

hi my love! thank u for reading, I hope this is okay! steve zombie au. fem!reader, 1k

Steve smothers a sigh as he sits down. His knees ache from sitting with legs crossed, but he doesn't know if you're okay with him lying beside you right now. Your back stiffened as he approached, but you turn to check it's him. It's an improvement. 

"I got you," he begins, a quiet sing-song, "a present. But you have to drink some water first, and then I'll give it to you." 

You don't say what you claimed earlier —Not thirsty. Steve is more than thankful.

You sit up on the bed wrap. You'd let Steve take care of your hair so as not to become unmanageable last night, and you'd cried the whole time. The memory is one of Steve's worst. Him trying to be gentle, you trying to be silent. 

"I really don't feel well," you say hoarsely. 

"I know. I'm not trying to be mean to you, but it's because you're not getting up. I know you don't want to but if we eat something and move to the next house, you'll feel better." 

You and Steve are doing something you call a neighbourhood hop, where you spend a night in one house before moving along to the next, in search of food and nice things. If there's no food, you skip houses. For a fortnight, you'd been sleeping in unfamiliar beds and eating different foods, but something in you snapped jagged a few days ago. You couldn't get up. 

Steve was upset at first, then a little mad, but he realised quickly that this wasn't you being difficult. You're fucked. He's not sure how to fix it or what brought it on. You'd been smiling the night before. You'd held his hand. 

You sip your water bottle. 

Your eyes are glassy. Steve hesitates for a moment before reaching out to cup your cheek. He'd wiped your face clean for you this morning in a more catatonic moment, and he rubs your chapped cheek now with as much tenderness as he can manage. It's a raw expression. There's a lot of things unsaid between you, more unacted intentions, but even if you don't know how deeply Steve cares for you, you know he'd do anything for you, and he'd argue that's that's just as good. 

"Can we try that today? Can we get ready to move over?" he asks.

You swallow and look down. When you nod, it's heavy with shame. 

"Thank you, honey," he says, stroking your cheek. You relax into his palm. 

Steve's lots of things but impenetrable isn't one of them. He loses any tentativeness to wrap you in a steel-armed hug, squeezing your front against his. "I promise you'll feel better soon,” he says.

"What's my present?" you ask. 

"Oh, you heard that bit, did you?" he teases. 

Steve sits back to grab the make up bag he'd found. You laugh at it weakly, but Steve tuts, "Hey, don't judge a book by its cover."

Inside is a treasure trove of fancy skin creams and things. You're not super interested, he can tell, but you're pretending for his sake. Steve takes it back to grab what he thought you'd like most, a rose lip balm with the tiniest pink tinge. 

"For your dry lips," he says. "What do you think? That'll make you feel better."

"Can I brush my teeth first?" you ask. 

Steve smiles. "Yeah. Of course you can." 

You brush your teeth. You actually manage to get changed, new underwear and socks stolen from the dresser. It's hard finding things in sizes that fit, but you'd been lucky lately. Steve's not so fortunate. 

He doesn't mind. It's nice seeing you smile at the feeling of new cotton socks. 

Your energy is waning after that. Steve doesn't know he's going to get you up and walking today, he really doesn't. 

"Look at this one," he murmurs, unveiling a pot of 'night cream'. He's sure it's good for all hours of the day. Unscrewing the pot, Steve lifts it to his nose for a sniff. "This'll make us look like supermodels, for sure." 

"What's it smell of?" you ask. 

He puts it under your nose. 

"Like the lip balm," you say. 

"You want to put some on?”

"Maybe later." You lay back down, covering your eyes with one hand. "Sorry, Steve… sorry." 

Steve pulls at your elbow gently. "It's okay, don't hide. Here, close your eyes." 

"Steve." 

"It's okay. Close your eyes,” he repeats, softer.

You close them. Steve dips his finger into the moisturiser, way too much, and dabs it on your cheek. Your eyes flutter open. 

"I'll get it in your eye," he warns playfully. 

"That's okay." 

It's harder to touch you while you're watching. He feels like there's a magnifying glass held between you enlarging all his thoughts and feelings, all his wants. He misses you. He can't do this without you. Steve wonders if you know that.

"It's so cold,” you mumble.

"It's too much," he says, wiping the excess down your neck. You lift your chin to give him better access, your eyes slipping shut once again. "You okay?" 

"I think I'm tired." 

"You rest up if you need to. But we're gonna go to the next house tonight. Okay?" 

Your knuckles brush against his knee. "Can I have the chapstick?" 

"You gonna make me put this on you, too? You're such a princess." 

Steve finds he wants to. He's disappointed when you do it yourself, rubbing your fingertip against the balm and then to your lips. You're not in the same place as him, your thoughts somewhere he can't seem to reach, no matter how soft he is with you. 

Steve lays down. He doesn't think about it, needling his arm behind your shoulder blades and dragging you into a selfish embrace. He's not expecting your immediate reciprocation, clumsy arm thrown over his waist, forehead pressing against his sternum. You curl in. He curls over. 

"Things will get better," he promises, his breath warming the top of your head. 

"Sorry," you say. 

He closes his eyes, crossing his arms over your back even tighter than before. You have nothing to be sorry about. For now, you can rest. In a couple of hours you'll be back on the road.