#NEXT we go to dry the clothes and it also wants to run it for an insane amount of time. so we click it anyways (horrible decision)

[writing-mlm]

The line we toe

Summary: Why can’t you ever just have Clark? Why is there always a reason he’s only there in your memories and why did he have to ruin your birthday? Pairing: Clark Kent x NFL!Male reader Wc: 14.5k tags: hurt/comfort, not enough Clark groveling IMO, mutual masturbation, needy!Clark, dry humping, reader is also a witch, religion but its not negative, homophobia but its a misunderstanding

If there’s something small towns were known for it's their churches. They held out hope for their religion, spending every weekend in their Sunday best, listening to the preacher go on for hours. But Smallville was different, it always had been. 

Church for the town wasn’t some big event where you come in button-ups, slacks, and polished shoes. Most dressed however they pleased, saving their good clothes for special events. It didn’t go on for hours, one and a half at most. It also wasn’t every weekend, although the priest always went, no one was shunned for not going. No one spoke in whispers because they missed their Sunday service. 

But for most, the service provided the calm that they needed. When business got tough, when the farms didn’t provide enough crops, and things seemed bleak, the pews filled townsfolk. 

You sat in the front, messing with the cross on your rosary as your father preached. Your mother and sister sit next to you; your mother's floor floor-length black dress sweeps over your shoes and her white lace gloves holding your free hand. You don’t know what he’s saying, you never have but you don’t like being alone in your home

so you go to church with them. 

Your connection with God isn’t one you understand through words or through the scripture. It’s more… Flyleaf’s All around me than shouting and claiming you can hear someone speaking to you. Your faith is one to yourself but you can appreciate the church's amens and their hymns. Admittedly you like the hymns, even if they’re different from the ones you’re used to, often lacking the umph you’re used to in New Orleans. 

When church ends, you stand with your mother and find him in the crowd of people deciding if they want to leave or talk to your father. You find him easily, standing with his parents as they head out of the church, smiling as he talks to one of the older men about helping with their yard. Clark Kent. You’d always been drawn to him, somehow you’ve always been in the same class as him. He’s always the first person you see at school. 

Ducking your head, you grab ahold of your sister and head outside through the back door. The field behind the church has a small playground that she and the other kids tended to frequent during and after service. It’s nothing elaborate. A sandpit, swings, a jungle gym, a seesaw. Your father and uncle had built it one summer after he noticed some of the families couldn’t have a good time when their kids wouldn’t sit. 

“Good,” Your older brother groans as you get close. “I’ve had to piss for an hour!” While he heads inside, you see Clark getting into the family truck. His eyes catch yours and he smiles, giving you a small wave. You wave back, your hand barely higher than your hip as the truck pulls off. His blue eyes imprinted into your mind and his smile—

Holding your cross again, you stop the bubbling feeling in your stomach. Instead, you focus your attention onto the kids playing until it’s time to go home. 

At home, your parents start dinner while you finish up your homework. Your brother runs his drills in the backyard while your sister watches, he gives her a whistle so she can feel useful but you think she likes the power the whistle holds. 

“Hey, hun,” Your father enters your room and you look up from your textbook, the cross falling from your fingers and into your chest. “Dinners ready if you are.” He holds onto the doorknob as he smiles. Outside of church, he’s relaxed, more often than not he’s walking around in a white tank and old sweatpants that are probably older than you are. 

“Okay,” Getting up, you see your mother calling in your brother and sister, rushing him into the shower. He runs past you, nearly knocking you down the stairs and you hold onto the banister, glaring up at him. Feeling the cold metal against your fingertips, you continue into the dining room.

The table isn’t set yet, your mother is finishing up her tarot reading and your father is adding the final touches to the dish. Your mother tsks as she flips the final card, the reversed death. She holds the deck in her right hand and you watch as the cards fly into place before it zooms through the house and into the barn. 

It’s probably some lame joke. A priest and a witch getting married on a rainy day. But by the way your father wears her protection spell jar you know their love isn’t a joke. 

She smiles at you, the tension in her face dropping as you help your father set the table. The placements find their spots as you carefully recite the spell, your sister watches through giggles, touching the sparkles that encase your spells. “You’re getting better,” She smiles, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Remind me to add more spells to your grimoire.” You nod and settle down in your seat. When your brother comes down from the shower, everyone starts to eat. 

“I think I’ll make quarterback this year,” Your brother announces as he piles the chicken alfredo onto his plate. He’s mostly been a running back but he thinks being a QB in his final year will help with scholarships. Besides, he’s been encouraging you to be the running back but football isn’t really your thing. But you’ll try out to make him happy. 

“I don’t doubt you,” Your father grabs the garlic bread bowl and takes out two pieces. “Hey, why don’t you and your brother run through old plays before school tomorrow? Get him ready for the season.”

“Sure,” Looking at your brother, you wonder if it’s illegal for someone his size to be a quarterback for a high school team. 

—

“Hey, you okay?” Clark catches up to you as you rub your shoulder on your way to your shared first period. You nod, still rubbing it. Tracing sigils, you feel the pain starting to go away.

“I was running drills with Angel,” You explain. “He wants me to try out for the football team.” Clark smiles at that and you look away from him, grabbing your cross again. 

“You should. I bet you’d make the team.” The way his voice carries such hope, not an inch of taunt in it makes you sick. That stupid feeling in your stomach rises again. “I’m actually the assistant coach for the team.” He continues when you don’t say anything, the awkward pauses feeling like torture for him. You probably shouldn’t try and make the team, then. 

You stare at your classroom door as the halls clear out, not knowing what to say. “Cool, I guess I’ll see you during tryouts.” He smiles, walking away with a pep in his step. Watching him leave, you tear your eyes away as the bell rings. Still fumbling with your rosary, you enter the classroom as the lights in the hallway blow out, sparks flying about. 

Sinking into your seat, the teacher checks the hallway and rushes to pull the fire alarm. Apparently one of the sparks had caught onto a banner that quickly spread to the other posters and banners. 

“Way to go,” Angel punches your shoulder as everyone stands in the parking lot. “Totally missing out on a test cause of this,” Out of three children you’re the only one to have manifested powers. It’s a gene that skips a kid every time and you picked the winning straw by being born second, lucky you.

In the corner, you see Clark covering his ears as the fire alarms continue to blast and the fire trucks approach. He has to walk away, still plugging his ears as the sirens only get louder. No one else notices, watching as the fire ravages what you think is the math room for 11th grade. You haven’t even had that class yet and you destroyed it. Great. 

As far as first days go, this isn’t the worst. Classes still continue and you’re eventually dragged to tryouts by Angel. He forces you into the gear and lugs you the whole way to the field. Coach and Clark are standing next to each other, Clark’s eyes light up when he sees your heels dragging into the turf. 

“Hey, rosary!” Coach calls and you stand up straight, grabbing the rosary you’d tucked into the pants of the uniform. “Give it here, the boys will rip it apart.” Nodding, you hesitate before giving it to him. The cold metal slips from your fingers and you’re suddenly antsy. Bouncing between the balls and heels of your feet, your eyes dart across the field. 

Older kids play tackle each other and toss the football between themselves. Your brother talks with his friends and the freshmen awkwardly stand to the side. You don’t have any football friends, but you know them through your brother. “Rosary, get on the field!” Rushing over to your brother, the coach laughs while Clark offers you an apologetic look. 

Coach runs a test game and you stand behind Angel, wiping your hands on the pants before the ball flies to him. You run ahead and he tosses the ball at you, catching it, you look for a second before you remember. Running back. You gotta run and he points in the direction you go as the others head towards you. You manage a couple of yards before you’re eventually tackled to the ground. Your head bounces and your teeth clamp together as you roll onto your back. 

“Hey, need a hand?” Clark asks when your eyes open. Accepting his hand, he pulls you up and you stumble forward. He catches you with a chuckle. “That was good, you have a good chance of getting on the team.” That’s not what you wanted to hear, but your brother clasps his hands on your shoulder and cheers. According to the others, you made it a good distance. 

Try-outs continue for another hour before it’s time to go home. Your brother takes a shower first but you’re not so sure you want to shower with a bunch of men and get in the bed of your dad's pickup truck. While you’re waiting, Clark rushes over and leans on the edge. 

“Uh, between us, you made the team.” He smiles and then shakes his head. “But I came here to ask if you wanted to come to a Soul Asylum concert? Me, Pete, and Lana are going. Thomas was gonna go but he got grounded and I noticed the patch on your bag.”

Lana. His girlfriend. The thought makes your throat tight and you cough into your fist. “Um… I’ll have to ask my parents. But… I’ll let you know what they say.” 

“Cool… er… here, take my number.” He digs through his bag for a piece of paper and one, scribbling the house number to the Kent’s on it before folding it and handing it to you. “It’s next weekend, we’re meeting at Lana’s at six.” Taking the paper, you thank him and watch him leave. As he’s running away, your brother runs over and slaps the side of the truck. 

“Pop! He’s totally making the team.” Angel climbs into the truck, his praise dying as the door slams shut. The truck starts and you jerk as it moves forward. Riding in the bed isn’t anything new, your father even built-in handlebars for when people do. You catch your father looking back at you after every turn, making sure you’re still on the truck. 

When he parks the truck, you head upstairs to take a shower before joining your family in the living room. Your mother is wrapping her sage bundles and you happily join her as you talk about school. 

“Oh, Clark Kent invited me to a Soul Asylum concert,” The smile that graces your face makes your mother smile. “It’s next Saturday and they’re meeting at Lana Lang’s place at six. I think Pete Crushing is going to drive.” Your parents exchange glances for a minute, their conversation unknown to you and Angel.

“Okay.” Your father nods. “No drinking, no drugs, and you’re tending to the farm this weekend.” The farm has a variety of crops and an apiary with nearly a thousand bees, it’s mainly so your mother and you have easy access to materials for spells and such. Agreeing to the terms, you shake on it and you’re off to your room. 

—

At five forty, you make it to the Lang’s place inside of the town. Your mother does a quick protection spell over you and slips a protection sigil into your jacket pocket before you’re able to leave. She didn’t tell you at the time but she’d done a reading for the night and something was going to go wrong. But she knew you were going to be okay, so she still let you go. 

“Hello,” Clark and Lana are waiting in front of her place. They’re holding hands and your jaw tightens at the sight. “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Had a weekend of farm work, but yeah.” Laughing, you join them and wait for Pete to arrive. The whole time the two giggle at each other and you try your best to ignore it, messing with your rosary. 

“Oh, right. Congrats on making the team,” Lana smiles over at you. “Clark says you’re an amazing running back. Must run in the family, right?” 

“Yeah,” A car pulls up and you nearly sigh in relief when it’s Pete. You take the passenger seat at their insistence and listen to the latest Soul Asylum album. It’s nice. And when you get to the venue Lana runs ahead, already scanning her ticket. 

“Right, here you go,” Clark hands you the spare ticket, his fingers brushing against your own. You snatch your hand away and thank him. He just smiles and meets up with Lana, leaving you with Pete. You get it, they’re a couple.

After the concert, you’re drifting off against the window when the car swerves off of the main road. You shout, gripping your seatbelt when you see that Pete had outright knocked out behind the wheel. The car careens and you close your eyes, scrambling for a spell and haphazardly spitting one out. Feeling yourself on the grass, you open your eyes and see the car smush in a ditch, Lana and Pete waking up beside you and Clark rising to his feet. 

A car stops and you turn, seeing it's a state trooper radioing for an ambulance and backup. Clark explains what’s happening as you grip your cross, heart beating out of your chest. The car is wrecked beyond recognition, tipped over, and bent under its own weight. 

When the ambulance and another cop come, you’re all driven back to Smallville where your mother is waiting on the porch with a blanket and cup of warm tea. 

“Hello, ma’am,” The cop nods his head. “Your son was in an accident coming back from a concert. Glad to report there are no injuries.” She pretends to be shocked as she pulls you in for a hug, stroking the top of your head. 

“Thank you, officer,” He nods and leaves, taking Clark back to the Kent’s farm. “Hun, are you okay?” Nodding, she checks on the protection charm and finds that it’s cracked. It did its job, good. “Come on. I made you grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

— 

In the weeks after the accident, Clark constantly checks on you and somehow you’ve been indoctrinated into his friend group. It’s nice since your old friend group has been slowly moving away since middle school but you don’t like being around Clark. He’s nice but he makes you nervous. You know why. But you can’t bring yourself to admit it. 

You love your parents, truly you do, but you don’t think they’d love you if they knew the truth. 

“I saw those damn two again,” Your mother sneers as she does your sister's hair for school. Your sister simply watches the Land Before Time DVD for the hundredth time while eating bits of granola and honeycomb.

“Jane and Betsy?” She groans at the mention of their name and you hide in your cushion. Jane and Betsy are the town's black sheep, they live together in a one-bedroom apartment and Jane has a clean-shaven head. Betsy has an assortment of tattoos and they don’t hide the fact that they’re not roommates but lovers. 

“Honestly, they need to hide their activities from the youth.” She continues on. “Forsaking the rest of us to see them. You know I talked to the Williams and they said they’re planning on opening a business.” Your father makes sounds of disapproval and you head upstairs to continue packing your bag. 

When you go back downstairs, you meet Angel and his friend in their car before heading to school. Once more Clark is the first person you see, although you see Lana not far away. They’re making a point to not look at each other, which makes it a bit awkward when Pete calls out for both of them. Lana looks at Clark before scoffing and walking towards Pete. 

“Hey,” Clark jumps, turning to see you. 

“Hey,” He doesn’t smile as he greets you, but he tries to. “Hey, um… I’ll see you during football practice, yeah?” Nodding, you watch as he walks away from the school. Sighing, you head in for your first class of the day. It’s not like you don’t have the same exact classes. Right. 

Clark doesn’t show up for practice that day or the next day, he’s barely in class but then he shows up and pretends as though the past couple of days hadn’t happened. 

“Want to be partners?” He asks, setting his lunch box in front of you. Choking on your water, he laughs and apologizes. “For the science project.” He clarifies, opening the box. “I know you’re pretty good with bees and stuff, I’m surprised no one has snatched you up already.” In truth, they had but you’d planned on working on the project alone. At least until he asked. 

“Yes. Yeah, sure,” Capping your thermos, you glance around. “So, we’re doing it on bees?”

“If you want,” He adds. “I just figured since you know bees and I’m good with football plays we could do some sort of… bee football game. Now that I say it out loud it does sound stupid.”

“No, it sounds nice. Unique. Uh, do you want to work on it at my place or yours?” 

“My parents are going out this Saturday to prepare for the Harvest Festival, so it’ll be quiet at my place.” He offers. 

“Sure, sounds like a plan.”

Saturday rolls around and Clark lets you inside, his hair pulled into a pigtail at the base of his neck but some pieces had fallen out and blocked parts of his face. It basically begged you to fix it. But you don’t, instead, you take your shoes off and follow him up to his room. You’d expected to work in the living room, maybe the dining room but being in his room was new. Intimate in ways you didn’t like. 

“You can sit on the bed,” He laughs when you stand at the door, messing with your rosary. Sitting on the bed he laughs again. “Get comfortable, you’re about to fall off.” He drags you back but forgets his strength and suddenly you’re on top of him. He’s still holding your wrist, his barely there grip makes goosebumps run down your spine. Naturally, his other hand had found your back, keeping you in place while you held onto him, clutching his sides. With wide eyes, you scramble off and apologize. 

“It’s okay, it was my fault. Let’s just… get started, yeah?” Waving his notebook you agree and the two of you begin to work on opposite ends of his bed. Eventually, there’s a call from the house phone and a knock on the door. 

“It’s probably my folks checking on me,” The two of you head downstairs and you open the door, finding your mother with a solemn look on her face and her death shawl over her shoulders. At the same time, you hear the house phone drop, clattering on the ground, and Clark staggers into the dining table. 

She drives Clark to the hospital to see Mr. Kent before it’s too late. She told you in the car he only had three hours left, that death was already in his hospital room waiting. She was right, of course. Mr. Kent is pronounced dead three hours later. 

The funeral is held at your church and the entire town attends wearing black. Mrs. Kent and Clark sit in the front, you’re a row behind them listening to your father talk about the life Mr. Kent had lived. His legacy. His family. Eventually, the procession moves to bury his body as it begins to pour down. 

Shifting your grip on your sister, you watch as your mother talks to Mrs. Kent and your father talks to Clark. You don’t know where you fit in all of this. What you’re supposed to do, if you’re supposed to do something. You’re Clark’s friend, his only friend since Lana and him broke up and Pete is trying to pick up where they left off, you should do something. Right? Talk to him at the very least. 

Passing your sister over to Angel, you start towards him. 

“I need some space,” He tells you when you get close. He walks away and you stand there, watching as he walks down the muddy road back towards his house.

—

Some time later and it’s summer break and you’re invited to a bonfire that’s being held by one of the cheerleaders. Angel quite literally drags you along by your neck, tossing you into his friend's car kidnapping style before they speed off. 

Once you’re there, your gaze naturally finds Clark’s. Following the funeral, he hadn’t spoken to you for two weeks. Not even for the project because the teacher automatically passed the two of you due to Mr. Kent’s passing. It was two agonizing weeks where you spent most of the time hating yourself for being upset he wasn’t talking to you. Hating yourself more because he was in your dreams and in them, you were more than friends. It made the silence and the guilt in your body all the more painful. 

You were back to normal now, well as normal as Clark could be following the death of his father and as normal as you could be after having fourteen dreams where you kissed him. 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” You admit, taking a seat next to him. He shrugs, looking at the fire in the trash can. Clarks never really gone to one of the parties but you’ve been to nearly all of them since you entered high school. Even if it is to just be a wallflower the entire time and so you can sober Angel up when it’s time to leave. 

“Ma thought it would be a good idea to get some air and I figured you’d be here,” He pushes his shoulder against yours and you nudge his back. “Can I ask you something?” Nodding, you watch as his eyes dip down to your rosary. “I’ve never seen you take it off, why do you wear it? You said you don’t like church,”

“I’m still vaguely religious.” You shrug, holding the cross. “And it was a gift from my aunt. She makes rosaries and made this when my ma was pregnant with me. It just means a lot to me, I guess,” Your hand drops and you see his hand begin to hover. “You can touch it, you won’t burn.” The two of you laugh but he grabs it, gently rolling his thumb over the intricate metal. Gulping, you watch him, eyes darting between his own before he drops it. 

“It’s pretty,” He says after a minute and looks towards the party. It’s loud, speakers all around, and shouting teenagers always makes Clark wince. 

“If you wanna go somewhere more quiet, there’s a creek some ways behind us.” He takes the offer and you guide him towards the creek beyond a small clearing of trees. 

The two of you settle on top of a rock. It’s clear that someone had already been there because there’s a blanket and two empty cans of beer below the rock. Neither of you mind as you flip the blanket and settle down, now sure there’s no bodily fluids touching your pants. “I’ve never been here before,” He said after some time had passed with the two of you spending it watching the water. 

“I come here every bonfire. It’s nice. Most people go the other direction to make out and stuff.” Kicking your foot, you see Clark turn his head towards you. Looking at him, your heart races. Even with the shitty flashlight at the bottom of his rock, you can see his stupidly pretty blue eyes and his smile that he’s slowly getting back. “Not what we’re… gonna… make out,”

He chuckles, looking to the creek for a moment before looking at you again. You’re still dumbstruck, staring at him and his eyes dip to your slightly parted lips. He hears your racing heart pick up when you notice and look back at you, your eyes darting between his. “Forgive me if I’m reading this wrong,” He mutters and leans in. His lips brush against yours and you lean in, closing the little distance. 

Your chest does tricks as you kiss— it feels so right that this couldn’t possibly be wrong. There’s no way this isn’t what you’re meant to do, that this is the wrong path. It’s new but it feels so familiar, kissing him. Across the creek a tree breaks but neither one of you seems to care, you think Clark doesn’t even notice. But when you hear a twig snap you pull away and jump down from the rock, holding your mouth. Clark frowns as he watches you mess with your rosary, hearing you muttering prayers. 

“Ready to go?” Angel slurs against a tree. You basically run to him, dragging him away from the creek. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” When you leave, you don’t look back at Clark but he hears your heart hammering and the way your rosary beads hit each other when you kiss the cold metal he’d touched.

—

That Sunday during church you’re watching the children, listening to the sermon through the open windows the parents use to keep an extra eye on their kids. You’re still thinking about the kiss, hating yourself for how you let yourself fall into temptation. Biting your tongue, you fix your clothes for the umpteenth time and pace about. Angel isn’t there to help, he’s gone off to college to play football across the country. Not that you mind, he’s gotten into a D1 on a full ride. Besides, at least he’s doing better than you are.

In the distance, Clark watches you. His mother had started going to service more often since his father's passing but this time he’d ask to go. You hadn’t talked to him all week, not answering the phone, your mother said you weren’t home whenever he asked but he knows you were inside of the barn with your father. He saw you. Heard you talking about keeping the bees safe for when the cold starts to come around again. This was the only place he could think of to talk to you. 

He excuses himself during prayer, it’s easier to leave that way and heads out towards the playground. You’re helping one of the boys learn to swing when Clark makes his appearance. “You’re a good teacher,” He nearly gets kicked by the boy and takes a comically large step back. You blink, not looking at him as your heart rate increases. “Can we talk?”

“Sorry, I’m busy.” Walking away, you stop a disagreement about toys before going to the edge of the playground again. He follows, dodging running children and stray toys. 

“I just… I’m sorry,” He says once he’s close enough. Your breath hitches and you inhale. 

“We were intoxicated, it’s fine.” Never mind the two of you hadn’t even had a sip of water. Not a pill, not a drink, nothing. Solemnly, he agrees to the lie and walks away. You watch him with a heavy heart, holding your cross as your chest tightens. You want so desperately for things to be different, for this feeling to go away. 

But you can’t. You return to watching the children, the ache never leaving.

That behavior continues as school comes around again. You feel bad, of course you do. It wasn’t a mistake, you’d wanted to kiss him. The issue is you liked it and you want to do it again— Clark liked it and he wants to do it again. He tries to talk to you time and time again but you’re fast and somehow manage to evade him every single time. It’s hard, considering you’re never not around him. 

He continues to show up during church, helping with the kids even when it’s only your sister playing around. She likes him, says that he’s the best at her tea parties that you’ve started to refuse to play whenever he’s around. Clark doesn’t mean to ambush you every Sunday but it’s the only time he can hear your voice. The only time he can be around you for longer than a second before you run away. 

And it’s slowly chipping away at your resolve. 

One day he’d tried seven separate times and you’re glad when you’re home. Angrily kicking your shoes off you turn to head upstairs when you see your parents talking on the phone while holding a card. You recognize their voices, they’re friends from when you lived in New Orleans, and they used to attend service. 

“You’re right on time!” Your mother smiles as she beckons you further inside the house. “You remember Mickey and O’Neil, right?” You nod and your father smiles. It’s nice to be remembered. “We’re planning on flying back to New Orleans for their wedding, they want your father to officiate it, do you want to come? I know you’re back on the football team and everything but I know you miss it there.” 

Your eyebrows cross as you look at her, a wedding— a gay wedding that your father approved of? Your chest tightens as your world spins. You can’t manage a single word as you nod. What was different about them and Betsy? Did they not like gay women? 

“I thought…” You trail, lips pinched shut. “They’re homosexuals.”

“Surely are,” Your father smiles. “Unless one of them transitioned and we haven’t heard yet.”

“You don’t like gay people.” Sharing a look, your parents turn to you. Your chest rises and falls quickly and they can hear you breathing. 

“Honey,” Your mother's head tilts as she grabs your hand. “Why would you think that?” She pulls you down onto the couch and you thread your fingers over your hair. 

“You always talk about Betsy and Jane and how they’re bad people.” Your face twists as you try to understand what’s going on. What are they talking about?

“That’s because they tried to burn down the diner.” Your father explains, the diner your father owns. He does church on the side. “Jane got fired and the two of them decided to try to destroy it. It’s why Mr. Leon is in the wheelchair.” Your shoulders slump as you realize their hatred was never centered around who they loved. 

“So, you don’t hate gay people?” The waiver in your voice carries the pain you’re holding and your parents' hearts ache for you. 

“No, honey. Love thy neighbor. Only God can judge,” Your father presses his lips to the top of your head as you begin to cry. The two of them hold you as you cry, clutching their clothes for reprise. The floors shake as you cry and their grip on you tightens. “We’re sorry that you felt any different.” 

After some time, you pull away and wipe your face. They’re hesitant to let you go, but slowly they unwrap you from their arms and let you stand up. You feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders as you walk away. They watch as you go, squeezing each other's hand as a silent promise to each other.

Halfway up the stairs, as all of this dawns on you, you remember. 

Clark. 

You huff a laugh and turn around. Running down the stairs, you stuff your feet into your shoes and run the distance from your house to the Kent’s. 

Your feet bash against the dirt road, ignoring the pain in your calves and the cold air invading your lungs. You’re laughing the whole time, skidding to a halt when you see their mailbox. The lights are on and you see Mrs. Kent in the kitchen. 

Running up to the door, you’re panting as you knock on the door. Mrs Kent opens the door for you with a smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel. 

“Hey, sweetie. What’s going on? Is something the matter?” She asks and you shake your head, holding your knees. 

“Hello, ma’am. I’m here for your son,” You struggle to get out but she lets you in without any fuss. “Thank you, ma’am.” Taking your shoes off, you climb the stairs two at a time before opening his door. He’s on his bed, doing homework, and sits up when he sees you. He doesn’t notice the door closing on its own, not when you’re smiling like an idiot while rushing towards him. 

“I am so sorry,” You say before kissing him. He smiles, holding you close as you continue to kiss before needing air. Holding his face, you can’t stop smiling and admiring him. 

“What changed?” He doesn’t want to ask that, to ruin the mood but he needs to know. It’s been two months of this cold shoulder, of him doing everything short of coming to your home with flowers and screaming your name to the heavens. 

“I might’ve assumed my parents were homophobic,” You laugh, pressing your forehead against his. “Can we start over?” He nods, leaning in for another kiss, lowering himself onto his bed when his mother walks in. 

Jumping off of Clark, you stare at Mrs. Kent with wide eyes while Clark hides his embarrassed face. You peel yourself from him, sitting on the edge of his bed while pinching your lips closed.

“Let me know if you’re staying for dinner, sugar,” She smiles at you. 

“No, ma’am. My parents are expecting me back soon,” She nods and gives Clark a look before leaving. The door stays open and he starts laughing. 

—

Being a witch, you have certain little traits. You mix cinnamon into your coffee filters on the rare occasions that you drink it, you always have your mini grimoire on hand, and as of late, tracing protection sigils into Clark’s arm. 

You’re at your place after football practice because despite your brother no longer being there to drag you to tryouts, you’ve found you do enjoy the sport. Continuing your role as the best running back with Clark’s plays. 

You and Clark are in the living room under the blanket watching a movie he’d picked out. He’s no stranger to your home, so much so your family has gotten used to finding his shoes neatly placed next to yours. But they’re all out of town picking your brother up from the airport, so the two of you are free to do whatever for the next… you squint at the clock, three hours. 

Sometimes you think about telling him but your mother didn’t tell your father until they’d been dating for three years and it sounds like a solid plan to you. Besides, it hasn’t even been seven months of dating. You’d be foolish to tell him now. Especially when things are going steady. 

Sometimes you worry he’s going to wander into the barn or the basement, finding the assortment of items, and run for the hills. He has this weird way of always knowing where you are when he’s around. Pinpointing you in the crowd as if you’re the only person around. 

“Do you believe in aliens?” He asks as the movie credits begin to roll. 

“I’d be stupid not to,” You hum, turning the TV off. It’s too much work to pick out another movie. “Do you?” With a nod, he sits up and lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’s cut his hair, it rests around his ears nowadays but he keeps the front longer so there’s one particular curl that rests in the center of his forehead. It’s cute. 

“What if we could travel to outer space? See the stars and the planets like the astronauts do,” His eyes are still cast to the ceiling, darting about as if he’s imagining it. “Would you like an alien?”

“Whaddya mean?” Shifting, you sit with your legs tangled with his. He looks at you, leaning up on his forearms. 

“Would you date an alien?”

“It depends,” You grin, tugging at his pants leg. “Are they as cute as you?” He laughs and lays down again. 

“You hungry? Ma made lasagna last night.” Despite it being your offer and your house, Clark drags you into the kitchen and tosses the dish into the oven. Had he been someone with less restraint he would’ve heated it up himself but instead the two of you sit in the kitchen. You’re on the counter while he’s between your legs, staring up at you. You’re talking about anything and nothing, planning dates for the winter lights show a town over, talking about how much work your teachers had given for the winter break. 

Once the food is reheated the two of you eat like that. Still talking as Clark does the dishes next to you. You cringe as he does them wrong but he looks so happy so you let him. He eyes the bundle of spices above the sink and you try to see if you’ve left anything notably witchy out. Your tarot cards are still on the dining table and you send them down to the basement before he turns back to you. 

He wipes his hands on your sweater before you lean down and kiss him. He holds your legs, pulling you closer and the door opens. This is the fourth time the two of you have been caught, you’d think you would’ve gotten better at hiding it. 

“Woah!” Your brother shouts when he sees you two. Groaning, you look over at him. “Ma, you let them kiss in the house?” Clark dips his head down as you get down from the counter, crossing your arms as they all head inside. 

“Stop teasing your brother,” Your mother shakes her head. “Hi, Clark.”

“I gotta go…” Clark trails. “It’s getting late and my mom—“

“It’s okay, want me to drive you back?” 

“No, it’s okay. It’s only two miles.” He kisses you, a quick fleeting kiss that makes Angel snicker. “Er… see you Mr and Mrs (L/n).” He gathers his stuff and leaves, giving you one last wave before the door closes. 

“Come on, Angel!” You groan, tossing an apple at him. He catches it and takes a big bite before he farts and goes upstairs. “You know, the month before he left he’s the one who spilled all of moms homemade tomato paste.”

“You snitch!”

—

All good things must come to an end. 

Two years, well almost. You started dating in eleventh grade and now it’s the summer before college. The two of you knew that this was going to go one of two ways, long distance or breaking up. You’d gotten into the same D1 college as your brother and Clark was going off to Metropolis to pursue a journalism degree. What you didn’t think would happen was Clark having a completely different opinion from yours.

“There are phones and I have a car now,” You ramble, looking between his bleary eyes and red nose. “There are holiday breaks and long weekends. I’ll be traveling for games and stuff. We can make it work,”

“I can’t.” His lips wobble as he looks away and your breathing skips. “You deserve someone who can be there for you.” Lately, he’s been bailing, leaving dates early and sometimes he doesn’t even show up. Sure, but you’re sure there’s a reason for that. You’re sure of it. You’re willing to put in the work to keep the relationship going, you don’t care. You just want him. And for Clark, that’s the issue. He’s becoming Superman, he’s going to be unavailable and that’s not something you deserve. 

“Please,” Your voice cracks, holding your cross. “I want to be with you, I don’t care—“

“I’m sorry,” He stands and you follow him, desperately reaching out. “This is for the better.” 

“Don’t leave me,” You beg, watching as his jaw tightens. “How can you leave me— us? It can’t be that easy!” You reach for him but he moves away, his eyes flickering to the ground as he apologizes but stands firm on his decision. Clark leaves and you turn around, heading into your house with a heavy heart and a tight chest. 

That night your father holds you as you cry, riding out your first heartbreak while your sister calls your brother; telling him everything. 

Clark doesn’t see you when you leave for college, you don’t expect him to. Considering he’d left the day before. Mrs. Kent apologized for him, explaining that he was having some emotions he needed to process. It didn’t help you, not one bit. 

You spend the flight to school doing readings and getting strange looks from the old man next to you. Each one only makes you more and more frustrated, all of the signs pointing that this is the best course of action. This is how it’s meant to be. You’ve never doubted the cards before, especially when each reading is so similar but you explain it by assuming it’s because you’re so high up. So, you do one as you’re in the car with Angel. 

It’s the same fucking thing. 

“Stop doing those damn readings,” He huffs, waving his hand over the cards but he doesn’t touch them. “Clark broke up with you, so what? You’ve gotten a full ride to the best football college in the nation! You’re a witch! That fuck ass country boy will come crawling back when you’re in the NFL, trust me.”

“I miss him,” You frown, packing the cards back into the tin. Angel groans and smacks your head. 

“You’re not gonna miss him when you see the guys at college; there’s a bunch of Clark Kent’s in this world.” He says that as you look out the window, doubting his words. There is no other Clark Kent. “Even so, I know a couple gay guys. They’d be your type.” 

—

College football, ranked third most popular sport in the US after professional football and basketball, is an extremely taxing thing. Your days start early, running before the sun is up, drills, training until you can’t anymore, ice baths that you’re sure will kill you one day, practice, going to away games on top of maintaining a good GPA. 

You’re running in the cold, wearing shorts as you see your breath leaving your body in a foggy smoke. But hey, Angel was right. You had a couple of flings during college. A couple of DL’s, of course, maybe a single relationship that lasted a month but nothing of substance. You hate that you’re still hung up on Clark; it's ridiculous. You dated for less than two years during high school. He’d gotten over Lana in less time and you’re sure he’s off at school getting with some girl or whatever. 

“Happy birthday!” Angel shouts as the team all sit in a restaurant slash bar, celebrating the fact that the season is over and your school has won nearly all of their games. Plus, one of the guys' birthdays. You’re old enough to drink, but you stick to your water all the same. It’s a bad look for a star athlete to be caught drunk, which is why the team hadn’t gone to an actual bar as intended. 

Your eyes flicker across the restaurant and you catch a guy sitting at the bar. He’s drinking something brown, not even letting the ice have a chance to melt, and pretending he likes his drinks watered down. His eyes catch yours and he grins, turning in his seat to stare at you. You smile and look away, returning to your conversation. 

Sometime later, a waiter comes by and hands you a glass of… something brown. 

“I didn’t…”

“It’s from someone else,” She explains before walking away. Immediately, you find the guy and he raises his glass. Raising yours, you take a sip and you’re pleasantly surprised that it’s just sweet tea. Your brother snickers and nudges you out of the booth. The other guys encourage you and you agree, taking a fry before heading to the bar. 

“Hey,” You smile, slinking into the seat next to him. “I’m (Y/n),”

“Bruce,” He responds, shaking your hand. You shake his hand as you take him in, deciding to pursue whatever it is with Bruce. Even if it’s just because he’s nearly identical to Clark. 

Things with Bruce didn’t last long, sadly. Only around six months. He went awol after a bit but you weren’t angry by it. He was nice enough, and surely spoiled you a bit, too. Angel loved that part. 

“Get up,” Angel grumbles as you’re lying on the couch, staring at the Metropolis news channel, waiting for him to appear. His eyes move to the TV and he grumbles, snatching the remote away before changing the channel to ESPN. You grumble back and sit up, watching as he plops himself down, his girlfriend shyly waving at you. You wave back, resting your head on the armrest. 

“Ignore him,” He stage whispers to his girlfriend. “He’s moping about a boy from high school.” She wants to laugh, you can tell, but doesn’t for your sake while he sure enough does. 

“Eat a dick,” You reach behind her and smack his head before heading into the kitchen. 

“Why don’t you hit up that guy from that English class you had? With the red hair, he was cute.” He calls. 

“‘Cause,” You shrug, grabbing a bottle of juice. “Last I heard of him it was because people around campus got crabs from him. It was like thirty people,”

“Oh my god,” She gasps. “James? James uhh… Richmond?” She snaps her fingers and you nod.

“Yeah,” You laugh into the rim of the bottle. “I knew him before the crab's thing, still got tested, though.”

“This is the first I’m hearing about this,” Angel sits up, looking between the two of you. 

“Because you’re not on the men's side of school drama.” You shrug. “A lot of guys on campus get passed around. Especially James,”

“No, yeah, it was gross. My friend hooked up with him. It wasn’t just crabs.” Her face scrunches and you make a similar one. “He also gave her brother crabs and gono.” Tossing the now-empty bottle into the trash, you shake your head. 

“That’s so…” Walking away, you flop onto your bed and pretend to do homework. Instead, you spend your time doom scrolling on your phone. Facebook sure is a strange place.

—

You’d been there when your brother got drafted to the Kansas City Chiefs two years after things ended with you and Bruce. You’d watched from the waiting room as he stood on the stage, accepting the draft pick and getting the jersey number 55. Of course, he became the star quarterback by the time the season was over, cementing his spot on the team. 

This year it was your turn, you’d gone through the NFL combine, painstakingly trying your best to reach the qualifying numbers before getting confirmed you were going into the draft. That in itself was such a relief you literally collapsed onto your bed and cried. Currently, you’re sitting with your family minus your sister in the waiting room, your leg bouncing as you watch the other teams pick their drafts for this round. It’s still the first round of drafts and there are three teams left, so you’re not nervous that your name hasn’t been said yet. 

But man, are you terrified that your name hasn’t been said yet.

Angel laughs the more antsy you get— he thinks you got this in the bag, your father prays next to you and your mother rubs lavender lotion onto your hands. 

The commissioner heads to the stand as the Chiefs lock in their pick in record time. 

You listen as the commissioner reads from the card, your jaw drops as your brother jumps up and cheers, punching the air as your name rings through your ears. You stand, hugging him tightly as your parents join the hug. They damn near suffocate you before your brother pushes you towards the stage. 

Wiping your tears, you rush up and take your jersey, bouncing around with it as people cheer. The announcers talk about the fact that your brother is on the team as he rushes out and tackles you once you get off of the stage. 

“You fucking did it!” He shouts, crying. He pulls you close as you both stumble about. There are some technical difficulties as your excitement reaches the peak but nothing anyone could bring back to you. You don’t doubt someone had managed to get that on video, though. 

That night you sit awake, wondering if Clark had been watching. What would’ve happened if he was there at your side. How he would’ve held you; kissed you. Maybe he’ll text you, you haven’t changed your number since you’d gotten it. Your Facebook is the same, too. You’re still friends on there, he likes your posts sometimes. You look at his but you never interact with them.

But he doesn’t. He reports on the picks because it’s his job, you watch it with headphones on because somehow Angel can always hear when you listen to his reports. The way he says your name crushes you, he says it as if he doesn’t know you, as if you hadn’t spent years together and Angel shouts that you’ve blown out the lights again. He takes your phone away because he knows the lights are always a Clark issue. 

—

After four years of being on the team, you head back to Smallville for Christmas. You’d missed Thanksgiving due to the games (which you of course won) and are more than ready to lay in some snow for a while. Not to mention finally being home for a holiday.

You’re in town, doing some last-minute grocery shopping alone when you see him. He’s in the section of the store you absolutely need to go to, with your brother's wife pregnant she’s been craving nothing more than bacon-wrapped hotdogs dipped in Rotel cheese with pickles. It doesn’t sound half bad, so it’s a family food now. 

You stare at him, taking in his appearance for the first time in eight years. God, eight years. Angel is right, you should be over him by now. But you take him in as your walk slows until you’re standing behind him. He’s bulked up since the last time you saw him, he stands taller too. That shirt looks awfully tight around the arms and when he reaches up to grab a pack of meat the shirt tightens around his back. 

You blink away from him, looking down the empty aisles before you put your big boy pants on and continue to the meat section. Walking next to him, you grab the first three packs of hotdogs you see and turn to leave when he grabs you by the elbow. He softly calls your name and you stop, turning to face him. 

“Hey, Clark,” You greet, your heart pounding in your ears. He says your name again and it falls so nicely that you swear you almost crumble right then and there. 

“I’ve seen your games. You’re amazing,” He smiles, pushing his glasses up his nose. Never mind the fact he’s gotten tickets to six of your games and flown over two others. Not to mention he’s put himself in charge of all football complications at work. 

“Thanks. I heard you’re at the Daily Planet now,” Heard. You found out the day he posted it. Stalking his page like a madman between drills and games. Your TV’s default station is the Daily Planet and you have a monthly subscription to their newspapers. 

“Yeah, it’s great.” There’s a silence that hangs and you go to walk away but he stops you again. “Can we meet up soon? I’m free tomorrow if you are.” The hope in his eyes almost makes you give in but you pick yourself back up and grab another two packets of hotdogs. God, do you even need five packets of hotdogs? Probably not, but you can’t just put them back. It’ll look weird. 

“Maybe,” You shrug. “I’ll see you around, Clark.” Rubbing his face, Clark decides to keep on shopping; his ma doesn’t need much else anyway. He passed you at the checkout. You have all five packets of hotdogs, a gallon of eggnog, various snacks, and about three boxes of Rotel cheese. He doesn’t know it, but you spent extra time getting items hoping you’d see him again. Although he’s ashamed to admit it, he waits in the sky as you leave the market and get into your car, following you the entire way home while you listen to whatever the radio is playing at the time. 

He watches as you enter your childhood home and slowly drops down, standing at the window as you hug your parents. His heart nearly drops when he sees a pregnant woman hug you but he’s relieved when Angel kisses her cheek and she kisses him back. Your head begins to turn to the driveway and he takes off, leaving his footprints in the snow as the only proof he was there. 

You blink at the driveway, sure that something was watching you but your father calling your name drags you back into the house. 

You don’t bring it up when you get back to your family home but your mother knows something is up. Of course, she’d done a reading. But she doesn’t mention it. There’s other topics to talk about, like her upcoming grand baby, your sister making the debate team, your father's retirement, and your latest games. 

Spending time with your family is nice but you’ve spent the entire time thinking about him. How his hair looks better in person, his stupid glasses that kept slipping from his face, his fucking smile. You go for a walk after dinner, not wanting to blow up any more lights than you already have.

You walk behind the barn and stare at the vast spread of land your parents own. You know you’d hidden something somewhere along the property but it was so many years ago you’ve since forgotten. You hope it wasn’t something awfully important. 

“Hey,” Angel calls as you're walking aimlessly in the snow, hoping to remember the spot. “Ma’s worried about you getting sick. Come inside already,” Noddining, you take one last look out before heading inside. 

—

Week eighteen, the final week for the NFL season. It’s the last game before the Super Bowl in February, although you already know you’re a shoo-in for it. You’re up against the Dallas Cowboys, sitting in the locker room laughing and joking before pre-game interviews happen. 

You’re next to Felix Anudike-Uzomah, talking about something that happened in a previous game where Leo Chenal tripped over thin air and went flying into the coach. Leo, somehow hearing from across the locker room, sucks his teeth and tosses a towel at the two of you. 

“Interviews,” The coach announces, entering the room. Everyone settles down, watching as a group of five reporters and five cameramen walk inside. There’s a pair from NBC, Fox, CNN, ESPN, and the one that makes you and Angel look at each other, The Daily Planet. 

Clark stands in the most dorkiest outfit you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing him in. A red bow tie, a pressed blue button-up under a darker blue vest, brown slacks, and a nice pair of loafers. His glasses are resting on the tip of his nose and you can tell he’s put in extra time doing his hair. 

A light blows out above him and Angel smacks your leg, silently warning you to get a grip.

“You’re booked for Rosary,” Coach tells Clark after reading from the chart. Your heart skips a beat and you look at Angel but he just sighs, holding his head. Clark’s eyes find yours easily in the crowded locker room that suddenly feels so stuffy. 

No. You’re upset with him. 

He’s just another reporter you’ll talk to for five maybe ten minutes. Not the guy you’ve been practically obsessing over for eight years. Highly embarrassing for a grown man who pays taxes and has constant offers from very handsome men who would worship him. 

Never mind that, you’re plastering a smile as you shake hands with Clark. No introductions are necessary, but you do meet the cameraman. Clark says he’s working as a fill-in for the usual cameraman, his friend, Jimmy Olsen. He waves, shouldering the large camera on his shoulder. 

“Big game today,” He smiles, the microphone in his hand doing nothing to obscure that bright smile he puts on for the cameras. “How are you feeling about it? You don’t seem nervous.”

“Yeah, sure is.” You nod, looking just under his eyes. It’s less intimate that way. You can’t see his stupid eyes that way. “It's always a bittersweet moment with the guys before the last game of the season. But, you know, we got this in the bag so I’m not sweating it.” He laughs, nodding. Shit, you hadn’t heard that laugh in years and it makes you weak in the knees. A light blows out and Angel looks at you from where he’s being interviewed, you look down to avoid his gaze. 

“Clearly, you haven’t lost a game in nearly thirty games. That’s impressive, recording breaking, in fact.” He says and you swear for a second, his eyes meet your lips. You look away, nodding. He’s making the interview so difficult for no reason, absolutely no reason at all.

“That’s such a blessing. I don’t want to say too much about it, I don't want to jinx anything.” He nods.

“Me neither,” He smiles. You stare at him, waiting for the next question but he just stares for a second before he inhales and composes himself. “There’s a rumor you’re settling down, is that true?” Oh lord, you pocket your hands and shake your head. This time you don’t look at him as you answer the question.

“Definitely not settling down. Maybe put on babysitting duty but nothing personal. I’m not rushing anything.” 

“Taking things slow,” He nods and you nod back. “Well, I think that’s everything. Good luck, (Y/n),” Jimmy puts the camera down and goes to clean the lens but Clark doesn’t stop smiling at you. He doesn’t even walk away.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” He says and you clear your throat, looking along the room. “We didn’t meet up last time.”

“No,” You agree. “We did not. I wasn’t free.” That’s technically the truth, your sister-in-law had given birth and then there were some personal issues you had to attend to. 

“How about—“

“I think coach wants to talk to you. Probably your next interview,” You interrupt and he looks like a damn picked puppy it makes you feel bad when he leaves. 

“You’re a lost cause,” Angel sighs upon seeing your crestfallen expression. You shove him and leave the locker room to get some fresh air. 

“Wait, (Y/n)!” Clark follows after you, his microphone and Jimmy left inside the locker room. You pretend to not hear him, choosing to wander the cold and damp hallways of the stadium before he catches up to you. “Please.” He whispers, unaware he’d caged you between himself and the wall. A corner, at that. 

“What?” You ask. 

“I just want to talk,” He promises. “One conversation. Ten minutes,”

“The game starts in five,” You point out and he huffs, checking his watch. “Bullet points?” His hand drops back to your forearm and he thinks for a second before he smiles. 

“Just this one.” He breathes and kisses you. 

You feel like a fool when you kiss back without any hesitation. There’s not even a seconds delay as your lips move with his, your hands finding his hair and his hands finding your thighs. His fingers press to them in this nearly bruising pressure and you get the hint easily enough. 

While, sure, you’ve kissed plenty of men. You’ve taken men to bed and they’ve taken you to bed. But you’ve never had a guy lift you up before and you imagine if they had, it wouldn’t have been as easy as it was with Clark. 

He holds you in place so well, so secure, that you’re sure he has an insane workout routine. But when you feel his muscles, you know that for sure. His bench press but be insane. 

God, you’re thinking about working out while making out. 

His blunt nails dig into the tights of your uniform and you hiss, opening your mouth in his. Gripping his well-groomed hair, your fingers thread in the dark strands before there’s a throat clearing from the end of the hallway. 

The two of you break apart like magnets and you stare at Angel. 

“Dude,” He sighs and you have to blink in the darkness to see him properly. “Come on, we gotta be on the field in three.” Nodding, you don’t look back at Clark as you run back into the locker room, fearing the earful Angel is going to give you later on. 

To say you won the game would be an understatement. You absolutely demolished the other team on their home field. It was such a sweep that you stopped playing halfway into the game and just had fun with the guys. During every break you’d see Clark in the press pit, watching you with a soft smile. 

“C’mon, gay boy.” Angel grabs you by the helmet and pulls you into the locker room while some teammates do their post-game interviews. It’s empty when you get inside and he’s thankful for that. 

“Making out with Clark is such a low,” He says, holding a hand up before you can start talking. “I get it; first loves are hard. But he dumped you and didn’t even say goodbye. It’s embarrassing that you’re won back so easily. Did he even say sorry?” His foot taps as he waits for an answer but you’re sure he already knows. 

“No…” You trail and he scoffs loudly. “He wanted to talk but I said the game was about to start.”

“Oh, so you skipped the apology and shoved his tongue down your throat?” He scoffs, crossing his arms. 

“I didn’t mean to!” You shout. 

“You didn’t mean to wrap your legs around him and hold his head? That seemed pretty intentional to me!” He shouts back. 

“Angel,” You huff, head in your hands. He sighs and sits next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“I get it, you’re a big boy who can make big-boy mistakes. This is a pretty big one, though. It’s just you’ve spent years trying to get over him and he’s sucking you back in. I don’t want to see you crying over him again, 'cause next time he does I’m getting ma to put a hex on his ass.” You laugh and shake your head. “I’m serious!” He laughs, knocking your head with his knuckles. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid, yeah?” He asks, his hand running over your shoulder to hold his own hand. 

“I won’t,” You promise. “It was just… heat of the moment.”

“Good. Now let’s go, we have a victory to celebrate!”

—

Heat of the moment— you’re a fucking idiot to believe that. To have believed that even, for a split second, that you weren’t still absolutely enamored by Clark Kent. Like some stupid, hopeless, idiot. 

Following the game Clark had messaged you on Facebook— a simple text, a simple congratulations text. You kept it to yourself, texting him on and off as the weeks progressed. Texts turned into photos; nothing scandalous. Pictures of food, selfies showing off his friends at work, your treadmill— simple things. Photos turned into calls. Maybe five minutes long, nothing of substance. 

Five turned into twenty, turned into an hour and suddenly your text and call logs were filled with C.K. 

Ashamed, you didn’t mention it to Angel. You don’t live together anymore, he lives in South Carolina while you moved to New York, closer to Metropolis than to Gotham, though. 

Even more ashamed, you noticed how even through your hundreds of hours talking, there was never an apology. Never an explanation. Nothing. You felt stupid every time you hung up, every time you replied so fast to his text only to be left on delivered for hours at a time. 

So, you started agreeing to dates. Your friends, teammates, and even Angel and his wife would set you up with guys. They were nice enough. Kind men who definitely made you happy, never too eager for something you didn’t want, never too fanboy, and you thought, for a while, that you could be happy with one of them. 

It was six months with him; a great, long six months of getting to know Thomas. He was a little older than yourself, in his mid-thirties. He was absolutely useless when it came to football and you loved trying to teach him. 

“Babe,” He called one day, in a tone that made your heart sink as you rose up from the kitchen island, ignoring the tomatoes that needed dicing. “There’s flowers for you.”

“From who?” He stands at the door with a vase filled with elaborate flowers, colors so vibrant you’re sure it’s fake. He grabs the card and flips it open. 

“I know it’s early, but I’m hoping this gets to you at midnight. Happy birthday, I’m sorry I missed the last eight. Expect more. Love, Clark. Who’s Clark?” He turns to you, shoving the vase into your arms. 

“An old boyfriend,” You blink, setting the vase down to follow after him. 

“You’re seeing him?” He asks, arms crossed, the card between his fingers as he reads over the words. “Expect more, Love, Clark.” He repeats and you sigh, running a hand over your rosary. 

“No! I haven’t seen him in like eight months. He’s a reporter and he came to a game and interviewed me. I haven’t seen him since high school.” 

“So, he’s just some stalker then?” Thomas asks and you bite your lip.

“No,” You drag out, wanting to be open with him and he goes to turn away but you quickly add. “I haven’t spoken to him since our first date. Honest, you can check my phone.” Taking what you say at face value, he puts the card down and purses his lips. 

“How does he know where you live?”

“I actually don’t know,” You admit. “I mean, he could’ve asked my mother. But, I don’t know.” He inhales and then caresses your face, his knuckles brushing against your jaw. 

“Okay,” He smiles and kisses you. “But you’re not off the hook. You didn’t tell me your birthday is in an hour!” You laugh, resting your forehead on his shoulder. 

—

“How’re things with Tommy boy?” Angel asks, pulling you aside as your birthday party rages in your backyard. It’s the day after your birthday and despite yourself, you didn’t cancel the already existing fake surprise party they’d planned for you. 

“He…” You sigh. “We broke up yesterday.”

“He broke up with you on your birthday?” He echos and you nod, eating a piece of cake to drown your sorrow. “Why?”

“…Clark,” He gives you a look and you snort. “Clark kept sending me gifts throughout the day, I kept telling him that I haven’t spoken to Clark in months but he stopped believing me after Clark sent me a signed jersey from that hockey player I like.”

“You only just started getting into hockey, though.”

“That’s what he said; so he thinks I’m still texting him. Broke up with me,”

“I hate to ask,” Angel trails off, face twisting with guilt and you huff, setting the plate down. 

“I haven’t said a word to Clark in ages. I don’t know how he got my address, how he knows these things— I… I don’t know but he just ruined my first good relationship since him.” 

“You think he’s stalking you?” 

“I’ll check later today; I asked mom to help with a reading and then a protection spell. But I really want to get drunk right now.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that, let’s go! Aunty Tiff brought her special punch.”

—

Magic is… finicky. Especially when you’re bordering on black-out drunk, stumbling into everything in your bedroom after Angel and forcibly brought you there. The party had since ended, everything was cleaned up and most people went home. 

You stayed up, embarrassed to admit you were drunk texting (and calling) Thomas that nothing was happening between you and Clark. He ended up blocking you and you just laid down, wallowing in your own self-pity before getting up and going for a walk. 

You don’t remember thinking about that teleportation spell, but you did remember suddenly being in the snow, barely able to stand up until you got the alcohol out of your system with another spell. You recognized Smallville and walked around for a bit, you could use the fresh air anyway. 

You don't realize that you’re at the Kent’s until you see the red barn. It just makes you angry and you brush your cold hands against your face, wiping away the angry tears. Turning around, you jump when Clark is in front of you. 

“Can we talk?” He asks. Dressed poorly for the weather, you stare at his red nose and then his eyes. It’s always those damn eyes. Blinking, you look out to the sky and then back at him.

“Fuck you,” You spit, brushing past him before you spin around and shove him. “How’d you get my address anyway? Know about that hockey shit?” 

“I asked your mother and I saw you’d posted it last month,” He explains, eyes flickering between yours. “Was I not supposed—“

“I got dumped on my fucking birthday because he thought I was cheating with you! With you! Oh my god, why can’t you just leave me alone, it’s been almost a decade and you’re still here!” 

“Ma lives here…” He trails and you shout, running your hands over your hair. 

“Here!” You wave your arms around and it clicks for him. “I finally stopped thinking about you and you just swoop back in, ruining everything, again!” 

“I didn’t mean to, I just wanted to show you that I still care.”

“You should've left me alone. You should’ve declined that interview, you should’ve left me alone when I walked out of the locker room. I should’ve ignored your texts and your calls.” You ramble. 

“Is that what you really want?” He asks, standing tall and you mimic his stance. 

“It’s better than whatever the fuck this is!” You shout. “You leaving without a trace and then reappear without an explanation. Expecting me to just go along with it and I fucking do because I’m holding onto some stupid childish hope that maybe you’ll change. Like this is some stupid story!”

“Let’s talk then,” He suggests. “I’ll explain everything— everything. I’ll answer any question you’ll want me to. And if you still feel like that then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Fine.” You huff. He smiles and takes you into the barn. To his credit, it’s incredibly warm inside. The Kent’s don’t own any more animals since Clark left and Mrs. Kent couldn’t tend to them anymore so it’s void of the animal smell you’re used to. 

He closes the door with a gentle thud while you lean against a pillar, watching as he walks in front of you. 

“I’ve wanted to say this since the day we broke up,” He starts. “I love you. I haven’t stopped. But…” Your heart drops as his face falls. “At the time I was coming into my own shoes. It took up my entire life. And it wasn’t going to be fair to you, you don’t deserve a back-burner relationship.”

“Were you doing drugs or something?” You ask, honestly confused out of your mind. This is fucking Clark Kent, a resident good boy who became a reporter. Not Timmy who tried to make meth in the chem lab a week before graduation. 

“No… I—“ He takes a step back and removes his hat. “I wanted to tell you so many times. But I was afraid,”

“You know I don’t like these cliffhanger conversations, spit it out.” You groan and he laughs before clearing his throat. 

“Fine.” He stands up tall. “I’m Superman.” Squinting, you make a noise. You have no idea what he’s talking about. Great. His biggest secret and you’re clueless. “The hero…?”

“Oh!” You gasp and nod. “The one from Metropolis?” Since graduation, you’ve been busy with football. Embarrassingly, you get your news from his Facebook and Angel. 

“Yes, that one.” He chuckles, watching as your face goes from one of realization to shock.

“You have powers, too?” Spluttering, he blinks. 

“Too?”

“I'm a witch,” You trail. “Not nearly as cool as being an alien, but I have cooler powers. So you dumped me to become a hero?” Looking between his eyes, he shakes his head and then nods, unable to form a proper sentence. 

“It’s complicated. But let’s get back to your thing. You’re a witch? Your dad is a priest!” He takes a step closer while your back is still to the pillar. 

“And my ma is a witch. We're from New Orleans, that’s a pretty common pairing. You’re the alien! Are the Kents also aliens?” 

“No, I crash-landed here when I was an infant. Your mother is a witch, too?”

“Yes, it’s a family thing. Your folks hid this for years!”

“You hid this for years!”

“Because it’s a family secret!”

“So is mine!”

The two of you pause, staring at one another. Holding your cross, you don’t know where to go from here. Sinking to the floor, you stare up at him while he slowly gets to the ground too. 

“I don’t want to lose you again,” He grabs your hand. “Please, can we start over? With everything on the table, no more secrets. No more running.” 

“Clark,” You wince and he falters. “I can’t go back to us if you’re going to run away again. And I really liked Thomas.”

“You said you liked him,” He grins as though he’d discovered the secret loophole in destroying the bad guy. “Does that mean you’re over him?”

“It’s been a day, asshole. And you didn’t respond to the first part.”

“No-no! I won’t, I promise. We can start slow but I’ve spent nearly a decade missing you. I just need to be close to you.” He pleads with this desperate look on his face that makes you melt. All of your resolve goes flying through the window when your eyes dip down to his lips, red from the cold. Leaning in, you kiss him. 

You’re not clear-minded, this is the years of missing him coming back. It’s because you don’t like being called a liar or being dumped on your birthday so you might as well kiss Clark now that Thomas is gone. You’re acting without thinking, even as he kisses you back and holds you so tenderly. 

He climbs on top of you, caging your legs between his thighs, and keeps you close. Licking his bottom lip he doesn’t waste time in opening his mouth, moaning at the feeling of your tongue touching his. Gripping his head he hisses and pulls away, fumbling with your jacket. You follow his lead, maybe stupidly because you’re eager to get him out of his jacket and then his shirt. He tosses his plaid shirt to the ground and realizes his lips have been off of yours for far too long. 

“Shit,” You hiss when he slams his head into yours, pushing your head against the wooden pillar. He apologizes but you hardly hear it over the kissing and him damn near dry-humping against your stomach. You can feel the wetness through his thick jeans and it gets to a painful point where he takes off his belt. Technically, he rips it off, snapping the belt into two, and undoes the button in a blissful haze.

He shifts on your lap, putting one of your legs between his, and grinds down. His knee presses against your own and you suck in a breath, holding his thighs to keep the pressure there. 

“Can I- fuck,” He pants, moving his hand to his boxers, palming his erection. “I need you,” His eyes find yours, the glasses barely hanging on the tip of his nose. His face is a rosy pink, and flushed and his eyelashes wet. Taking his glasses off, you send them onto the tractor and move your left hand from his thigh to his hard-on. 

“Like this?” You ask, touching him through the wet fabric. Your thumb moves over his tip, using gentle motions that make him whimper against you. His head drops to your shoulder and his hips buck into your hand. 

“Please,” He whimpers, his shaking hand grabbing your own. “Touch me, please.” Shoving your hand into his boxers, he crushes a part of the pillar behind you when your hand wraps around his dick. It splinters and you mutter a spell to fix it while taking care of Clark. 

He’s huge, unnaturally so, it’s probably why he wears such baggy jeans now that you think about it. Smearing his precum against your hand, you start to stroke up and down the shaft. Your other hand starts to work on your own pants but he shakes his head, fumbling with your pants. In his haze, he rips your jeans open and you huff a laugh. 

He apologizes before kissing you, his moans dying inside your mouth while you feel his hand working the outside of your boxers. Your dick twitches in his hand and he uses his free hand to move your waistband low enough that your dick springs out. Glancing down, he spits onto his hand and starts jerking you off. 

“Clark,” You moan, head tilted up while he starts kissing your neck. The noises in the barn are pornographic, the slicking sound of the two of you working on each other, the loud kisses he’s leaving across your body, and the moans you’re both doing nothing to hide. He says your name as his eyes squeeze shut, his hips bucking erratically. 

“I’m close,” He heaves. “Keep doing that, please,” Working his dick, his hand slips from yours but you’re focused on him. Focused on the way his chest rises and falls with each moan, how you can see his moans mixing into the air, how his face is red and his hair is starting to stick to his forehead. He leans back, staring at you as he cums. It sprays, landing on your hand, chest, and neck. He continues to shoot weak spurts that slide down your hand and his dick, coating his boxers and pants. 

But his dick doesn’t go flaccid. 

“‘M sorry,” He pants, watching as your eyes close when he returns to your dick. “It’s the alien DNA… it doesn’t— just let me take care of you,” Nodding, you focus on the feeling of his hand working your dick, how he squeezes every so often and peppers soft kisses against your neck. It doesn’t take long before your back arches and you spill onto his hand. 

Coming down from your high you watch as Clark cums again, this time into his fist. The two of you pant, staring at each other before kissing again. He wipes his hands on his jacket before guiding your hands to his hips.

Yeah, you definitely needed this. 

He walks you home after sneaking you into the house to clean up. You teleport back home, Clark still attached at your hip but a little woozy from the reporting. The two of you catch up while not quite holding hands. It’s a ridiculous sight between two twenty-nine-year-old men but, hey, no one is around to judge. 

“You remember when we went to the Soul Asylum concert?” He brings up when he’s about to leave, finding excuses to stay close to you. 

“Yeah, I saved us,” You nod. He stops walking and you look back at him. “I said a protection spell.”

“I pulled everyone out of the car.” He tells you. You squint. 

“I said the spell first. Maybe it compelled you to pull us out,” You shrug. 

“A spell didn’t compel— yknow what? You’re right,” He kisses the top of your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We’re going to Smallville to see the lights at six tomorrow,” You offer, barely hiding your smile.

“It’s a date.” Watching as he flies away, you laugh and head inside. 

“You fucked Clark Kent?” Angel asks once you’re inside the house. Your parents, niece, and sister are already upstairs asleep, it’s just him and his wife watching Hallmark movies. 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug, leaning against the archway frame. 

“Really? Because you left this house with white a t-shirt and your pants are open,” Looking down, you see the blue jeans with a busted button and plaid button down you’d grabbed and licked your teeth. 

“Maybe you forgot what I was wearing,” He inhales, leaning back on the couch. 

“Mm, so we won’t be seeing Clark around?”

“Who knows,”

—

The next day you meet Clark in town, he not so subtly walks up behind you and places his hands on your hips to get your attention. You smile but don’t look away from the lights and squeeze his hands as a form of recognition. Your folks notice but don’t comment on it. 

The light show is lovely and you don’t blow any of them up by accident. Which your father thanks you for just before you leave with Clark. 

“So, this is real?” He asks, eyes darting between your own. He bites his bottom lip as he waits for your response and you nod, rolling your eyes when he cheers and leans in for a kiss. He peppers kisses along your face and you laugh, holding his neck with your eyes shut. “I promise I won’t hurt you again.” 

“You better,” You sigh and cross your arms. “I heard Superman is allergic to magic.” 

“Maybe a little,” He whispers, forehead pressed against yours. “You’re my weakness, huh?” He chuckles and you snort, pulling away from him. Holding your cross, you find your family walking along the stalls but your brother keeps an eye on you the whole time. 

Clark grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together and the two of you enjoy the lights and the food for the night. At some point, you end up back at your church. It’s the same as it was when you left, although there’s a pride flag hanging off of the window. Your parents didn’t want anyone to get the wrong message ever again. 

Heading inside because your father never locks the doors, you and Clark settle in the pews and you lay your head along the back of the pew, staring at him. 

“What’s it like? Being an alien?” You ask. “Have you seen the stars?”

“I have,” He smiles, brushing snow from your shoulder. “And it’s… I don’t really feel different. Aside from the x-ray vision, heightened senses, heat vision, and other stuff.”

“Are you a Martian? Is that racist to ask?”

“No, it’s not. I think— I’m the only alien I've ever met. But I’m a Kryptonian, my planet blew up and my birth parents saved me.” He explains. “I’ve never known anything other than Earth, but…” His eyes light up as he realizes something. “My pod had this… crystal and I discovered so much about my heritage. It’s around the time I started pulling away. I have this place in the Arctic, if you’d like to see it.”

“I would,” You nod. “We should go soon, before I have to head back.” He agrees, removing his glasses now that he doesn’t need to keep up appearances. It's more than the glasses, he’d later tell you. Superman stands taller, speaks with more authority than Clark Kent, and a host of other minor differences that add up. It sounds horribly complicated. 

“What’s it like being a witch?” He asks and you huff, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It’s such a process. Did you know— I know you don’t, don’t worry— that every single witch has a prophecy?” You laugh. “My mother was that she’ll become the reason the wolf becomes victorious.”

“The wolf?” He squints. 

“The Chiefs mascot is a wolf,” You explain and he laughs. “Yeah, her prophecy is the reason I’m in football. Her brother's prophecy was he’d become a zookeeper. Some of them are really mundane.”

“What’s yours?” He asks and you shrug. 

“Something about becoming a red witch. I think it was a rose, or maybe a scarlet. I’m not sure. It’s been years since I’ve read it.” 

“What’s a red witch?”

“Honestly, I have no clue. But, when it happens, I’ll know.” You wave. “It’s probably harmless, the Chiefs are red, so I guess it’s that. I dunno. But aside from that being a witch is cool. I have all these powers that I can do whatever for,”

“I hate to ask,” He cringes. You huff, knowing the question. 

“No, I don’t use them to play football. Only a minor protection sigil so players don’t get injured. It’s engraved on their helmets.” He nods. “Don’t go reporting that, though.” You tease.

“It’s off the record,” He laughs and it slowly dies out. “What about us?” Us. There’s an us now. You stare at him and shrug, slowly smiling as an idea creeps in the back of your mind.

“It would be cool if we announced it at the next Superbowl. Like I win and run and kiss you.” You laugh. “Or you’re interviewing me post-game and we kiss.”

“That’s so corny, we should.”

[soni-dragon]

Never ever EVER buy household appliances with ai in them. Most ridiculous things I’ve ever encountered

[icewindandboringhorror]

... how am I meant to get any sort of restful sleep when it's like 85F indoors in my bedroom at NIGHT .. hhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[heathermason6060]

Rick Grimes x F!Reader x Daryl Dixon Smut: And There was only One Bed

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected sex, jealous Rick, awkward inexperienced Daryl, dry humping, spooning sex, oral, handjobs (Daryl receiving), staying quiet/fear of being caught, Daryl pretending to be asleep

Summary: Rick, Daryl, and reader get caught out on a storm and take shelter in a small cabin. They're stuck there for the night, and you'll never guess what happens next. THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

Notes: God this is so hot I don't care that the morals are questionable!!!! I need it more than anything I've ever needed before thank you for requesting anon

Being squished between a snoring Daryl and Rick's hard-on was not how you imagined your night going when you set out that morning.

It was supposed to be a cut and dry intel run. Scope out the new group nearby, learn a few things, maybe grab some supplies on your way back, but no, it's never that easy.

First off, you couldn't find the group. Aaron claimed they were composed of maybe forty people living in the nearby school, but the place was quiet when you'd checked it out.

Then, Rick's truck broke down. Dead battery. Daryl set out looking for one with enough juice to get you home when the first signs of a storm rolled in. Angry dark clouds and cold fat raindrops.

The only place nearby in walking distance was down a long gravel road. It was the smallest, but also the cutest, cabin you'd ever laid eyes on. It only had three rooms, one bedroom with a bathroom, and a large open living area that held a tiny kitchen and a couch with a fireplace.

“Get those windows boarded up.”

Rick was quick to spew out commands after the three of you busted through the front door, all wet and shivering. The wind was so strong it slammed the door closed behind you, blowing the curtains and causing stray paper to fly off their tables.

“Can't!” Daryl shouted. He stood behind you shielding his face from the rain shooting through the broken windows.

That's how you ended up in the bedroom. You sat shivering on the foot of the bed as Rick went through the dresser, looking for clothes to replace the soaking fabric you all wore.

Daryl slid the bedroom vanity in front of the door. He even went as far as to set the armchair on top of it.

“Can we just wait it out?” Your teeth clattered together as Rick tossed you a towel from the closet. You ruffled it in your hair and watched Daryl.

He was standing in front of the only window in the room, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yeah, should ease up soon.” Rick sat on the bed opposite from you, drying his arms and hair with his own towel.

“Naw.” Daryl muttered. He finally turned away from the window and began drying himself. “Gonna be a few hours, at least.”

You furrowed your brows, looking down in your lap. This was quite the predicament. Stuck in a bedroom with two men, one you barely knew and were pretty sure hated you.

The other… Well, you weren't sure what Rick was to you.

Daryl wasn't right, but he wasn't wrong either. The storm did continue for a few hours, but it also didn't show any signs of stopping.

You glanced down at your watch and felt your heart drop. It was seven pm, and the sun would be setting very soon. Not that you could see much outside anyways, the clouds were thick and covered a majority of the sky.

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

Rick and Daryl had known the answer to that question two hours prior. Neither of them wanted to be the ones to say it, but their lack of direct answers filled you in enough. Rick looked down at his revolver and Daryl continued staring out the window.

“Fuck.” You groaned, sitting back down on the bed. “I promised Maggie we'd watch season two of True Blood tonight.”

“That dog fucker show?” Daryl muttered around his cigarette. He was leaning against the wall next to the window, legs crossed at the ankles, cleaning under his nails with the blade of his knife.

“No Daryl, there's no dog fucking.” You sighed and he just mumbled in response, not looking up from his fingers.

Rick had made himself busy trying to prepare the room for the night.

He'd found a few hurricane lanterns and set two up on the bedside tables, and began anxiously ‘cleaning’. The room only had the bed, dresser, and bedside tables, so there wasn't much he could do besides look in the same drawers over and over.

At some point he went into the small bathroom and shut the door. He stayed there for a couple minutes, doing god knows what.

There were a few clothing items left by the previous owners. Daryl and Rick got some raggedy sweatpants, shirts full of holes that were a little too small for them. You were stuck with a massive piss yellow sweater and the ugliest pair of basketball shorts.

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

The storm had eased up a bit, but that didn't do much in terms of easing your boredom. The sun had long since set, your watch read ten-thirty, and neither man was very talkative.

“I'll take first watch.” Daryl was the first to speak in a while.

“No. I'll do it.” Rick protested. He'd been cleaning his revolver for the last thirty minutes. “I can't sleep anyway.”

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

You'd found a box of random items under the bed and had been looking through them while they bickered. A dead Gameboy, random PlayStation controllers, a few comic books, pieces to Monopoly, and an array of broken crayons. There was a pen and a notepad though, so you started drawing a caricature of Daryl.

Angry eyebrows, a cigarette that was half his height in his frowning mouth, and a speech bubble filled with hash tags for explicatives.

“Hey.” You nudged Rick's knee with your elbow. He sat on the bed above where you were, cross-legged on the floor next to your box of bullshit.

He looked down at the paper you showed him, and for the first time that day you saw his lips twitching up into a smirk. His eyes trailed over the paper and he grabbed it from you, bringing it up closer to his face.

“Is that Daryl?” He questioned, and you nodded, a grin splitting across your face.

“That's good.” Rick nodded, shrugging his mouth. “You got a real talent. Looks just like him.”

Daryl was too bored to hide his interest, so he stood from his spot under the bedroom window and walked over to you. He grabbed the notepad from Rick, and you could see his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out your scribbles in the dim lighting.

“Yeah?” Daryl looked up when he heard the two of you stifling giggles and laughter. “Think that's funny? Gimme that.” He snatched the pen from your hands and flipped the page, sitting down on the dresser and scribbling furiously.

The pad was tossed in your lap a minute later. Your eyes widened on the drawing.

It was obviously you. You had on the same sweater, but it went down to your feet instead of your knees, and you were standing beside a cat. The only problem was, the cat was three times taller than you, and you had the ugliest expression on your face. Your mouth hung open and you were nagging the cat about scratching up the furniture. It was based on a scenario that had happened the day before, with your cat back home, Daisy, who you had caught shredding the living room couch.

“Dude, what am I? Two inches tall?” You laughed, handing the paper to Rick. He covered his mouth to hide the smile, but you saw it through his fingers and stood to give him a shove.

“Right, sorry. Drew ya too big. Hold on.” Daryl came over and drew a new stick figure of you so small that it was the size of a real ant.

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

Daryl dogged the small notepad you'd tossed at his face, and started laughing. Actually laughing. Your smile grew softer as he and Rick began to joke. It had been a while since you'd seen either of them behave in such a lighthearted manner. It made the bare bedroom seem not so cold.

Eventually the curtains were drawn and the lanterns dimmed considerably. You'd claimed the only spot on the bed that wasn't lumpy or sunken, which just so happened to be the middle.

No other reason, promise.

For the sake of his joints, Daryl had given up trying to sit on the hard floor and joined you on the bed, claiming the side closest to the window. He'd made sure to put distance between you, so much so that he was nearly hanging off the edge.

Rick had a little more resolve than the other man and stood by the window for a bit, occasionally peeking out the heavy curtains to see the same amount of darkness as before.

“Thank god you showered this morning.” Rick grunted as he sat down on your left, knocking his boots together before he brought his legs up on the bed.

“Me?” You blurted immediately, already feeling the tiniest but of anxiety, Rick never teased you like that. He saved that for the men.

He gave a toothy grin and shook his head. “No. Him.” He pointed over your body to Daryl, who was smoking his third cigarette of the night. “Carol made him take his monthly shower after he came home covered in coyote blood.”

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

“Yeah. Laugh it up.” Daryl took a deep drag.

You kicked off your shoes and sat upright, taking off those god awful shorts while the two men continued to playfully insult each other.

Rick caught himself going quiet when he saw you pulling the shorts down your thighs, his mouth drying at the sight. Daryl quickly shot him a look, dragging his attention away from your now bare legs and back onto him.

You didn't notice a thing, but you wished you had. Maybe you'd have started grinding against him earlier that night.

You were the first to fall asleep, to no one's surprise. There were little things that you loved more in life than sleeping.

Curled up underneath the sheets that you'd checked twenty times for bugs, sleep came quick and easy for you.

The sweater you were wearing had become incredibly uncomfortable so you swapped it for Rick's hole ridden T-shirt, leaving him shirtless. The image of his bare chest and the muscles in his back almost gave you enough adrenaline to stay up the entire night, but Daryl's soft breathing and Rick's body heat beside you tugged you unconscious.

Rick was next to give in, he'd kicked his boots off and climbed under the sheets with you, not before sliding a pillow between your bodies, more for your consideration than his modesty. He didn't give a shit, but he was worried you might.

Daryl was last, and by complete accident. He'd meant to take the first watch but the sounds of rain on the roof, gentle thunder outside, and your soft breathing beside him had him out like a light.

Two hours went by before something woke Rick up. The feeling of pressure against his crotch.

He opened his eyes, blinking a few times in a struggle to see, but the room was too dark to immediately recognize his surroundings.

Once he remembered where he was he relaxed. He closed his eyes again and almost fell back to sleep when he felt it.

A gentle nudge of something soft and plush against him, something that made him well aware of the situation in his sweatpants. He was painfully erect.

His eyes opened again, but the room was no easier to see in. He could still hear the sounds of quiet rain and wind, and the new sound of Daryl's soft snoring.

Then you whimpered.

It was quiet, barely audible, and whiny. You were squirming in your sleep, the pillow between the two of you now between your knees, separating them to prevent the annoying feeling of bone on bone.

Your ass moved back against him again. He pulled his hips back, his dick immediately complaining about the loss of contact with a slight twitch. He clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.

Think about cold showers. You're taking a cold shower, he thought, taking deep breaths. Cold cold shower. She's in a cold shower--- raw potatoes, grub worms, rotten walker flesh, her flesh, her ass is only a few inches away, snug in those cute boyshort underwear-

Daryl let out a sudden louder snort, startling Rick out of his thoughts. His eyes snapped open, only closing once he heard the earlier gentle snores return.

Your movements stilled and he was able to sleep once again, not without an iron will mindset.

You weren't sure how long you'd been sleeping when you woke up. You checked your watch, seeing the green glowing hands pointed at the twelve and nine.

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

The room had grown colder as the night went on, cold air seeping through the thin cracks in the walls and floorboards.

As a result of said colder temperature, Daryl had moved closer to you, be that in his sleep or on purpose, you didn't know. All you knew was he was there on your right side, his bicep warm and pressed against your upper chest.

Rick had also moved closer. So close, in fact, that his hand was on your waist, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Your heart sped up when you realized this, and when he pulled you closer in his sleep you almost gasped.

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

You could feel it behind his sweatpants pressed right into your ass. His breathing was slow and deep, letting you know that he was definitely asleep, not that the knowledge did much to stop the arousal filling your chest.

You couldn't stop the whimper that sounded deep in your throat. Daryl's snoring covered it, or you thought it did. Rick stirred behind you and you heard the sound of him sniffing sleepily.

He had to be awake, you were sure of it. His breathing had become quiet, much different than the sounds of someone who was deep in sleep. He made no move to pull his hand away from your hip, confusing you even further.

Maybe he wasn't awake.

A lightbulb went off. You wiggled your hips, very slightly, only a few millimeters side to side. It was enough to gain a reaction from him, which let you know that he was definitely awake.

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

There was nothing you could've done to prepare yourself for that kind of response. You sucked in a breath and felt your pussy throb. It was such a faint and quick movement, but you could vividly feel the shape of his dick pressing against your ass.

You heard movement behind you, the sound of his stubble scraping across his pillow as he moved his lips to your ear, speaking barely above a whisper.

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

You could barely see the outline of his head illuminated in moonlight thanks to the parting clouds. His nose pointed up at the ceiling, his lips parted as he breathed.

A wave of heat traveled through your body, starting in your chest and shooting down to your core. You felt that flipping sensation in your lower stomach and you whimpered again, rubbing your thighs together.

Rick inhaled deeply through his nose at the action. His hand shifted upwards, moving over your hip and splaying over the curve of your waist. He could feel you pressed against him, even if you weren't moving, and it made him groan faintly.

The sound of him groaning sent another spark through your core. You couldn't help it, you arched your back just enough to feel friction. You were too weak willed.

“Sweetheart.” He breathed, his forehead resting against the back of your hair to try and steady himself. “You gotta stop, please.”

He hated how desperate and wrecked the whispered words came from his lips. Hated how his dick was aching in his boxer briefs.

Hated how he was just as weak willed as you, his hips moving forward in a way that betrayed his words and stomped them in the mud.

You couldn't understand why you were so unbearably aroused. You weren't a teenager going through puberty. You've had partners.

Sure, you had a little admiration-fueled crush on the two men, but the way your body was behaving was animalistic. Your heart felt like it was going to burst through your chest and your pussy was soaked.

If only you had your vibrator that was back in Alexandria, you'd orgasm in five seconds, you knew that for a fucking fact.

Daryl muttered a nonsensical sentence in his sleep, his head lolling over in the direction of the window. His right arm rose to lay over his chest, and his left leg spread out in your direction.

His knee bumped against the top of your thighs, almost slipping between them.

You could've screamed.

You tried to stay still, really, you did. But the feeling of Rick pushing against you again, Daryl's knee nudging between your thighs, it was impossible. You moved your hips, intending on just pushing back against Rick but your action also succeeded in grinding down right on Daryl's knee.

Rick could feel resistance in your movement but his mind couldn't focus on anything but the feel of your plush ass pressing against his dick.

His blood ran cold at the sound of Daryl mumbling in his sleep again. He held his breath, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd stir awake.

Relief flooded his body after a moment of silence, and he pressed his face back into your hair. There was still a faint smell of shampoo or conditioner despite the earlier rain. The feminine smell made his dick twitch and he flexed his jaw.

You were caught between excitement and horror. Daryl's knee was wedged right between your thighs, and occasionally it would jerk up against you. Each time it would make you fight away a gasp, and make your clit throb.

Daryl was definitely asleep, right? If he woke up he'd roll over on his side, right? There was no way he was awake, pushing his knee right up against your pussy, right?

You reached down to grab Rick's hand, which was still resting against your waist, gripping onto his fingers for support. His fingers curled around your own and sent butterflies in your stomach at the feeling of comfort.

He hated himself for all of it, but in the moment, he felt like he didn't care. His hips rocked against yours, once, twice, the need to get relief clouding all judgment he was capable of having.

You couldn't help yourself either. Your eyes fluttered shut and you rolled your hips, soft and slow, against Rick's bulge and Daryl's knee. You'd tried several times to push it away, wiggle back further into Rick, but it was like there was a goddamn super magnet attached to your clit and his knee cap.

You bit down hard against your lip, trying to keep your voice from escaping. Everything felt so good, Rick dry humping his heart out, your clit buzzing, it all felt so overwhelmingly amazing that you hadn't even noticed Daryl's snoring was no longer present.

In the end, it wasn't enough, Rick was being too cautious. You needed more, just a little bit. You pushed back hard against him and heard his breath hitch in his throat. His hand gripped yours so tight it almost hurt, and he leaned into your ear.

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You shook your head, your lip trembling between your teeth.

“Can't.” You breathed. You physically couldn't stop, you knew that and Rick knew that. You were both so close to relief, you'd already gotten this far, there was no point in stopping now. No going back.

Rick swallowed hard as he felt his resolve break at the way you and your body pleaded. It was all he needed. His hips moved a bit faster, a bit rougher. His hand left yours and grabbed the string of his sweatpants, fingertips pinching the ends, hesitating only for a second before he pulled.

Time seemed to literally freeze when you felt him digging his cock out behind you. Your heart stopped, your breathing stopped, and so did the grinding of your pelvis. You couldn't think. It was suddenly all too very real.

You didn't expect Rick to do something like this. The dry humping, sure. He was horny and it wasn't really that big of a deal. But this? Tugging down your underwear? Spitting on his hand and stroking his dick to get it wet for you? It felt like a dream and way too terrifying at the same time.

“Sweetheart…” His hot breath against your ear snapped you back to reality. “You… you gotta be quiet, okay? Promise?”

You'd never nodded so quickly and eagerly in your life. Your heart felt like it was literally up in your throat. The tight knot in your core became more and more taut, and it trembled when you felt the hot tip of his wet dick bump between your folds.

Rick nearly came when he felt how wet you were. It was mind blowing, you were fucking soaked. The hot lube was covering your pussy and trailing down the side of your ass, reaching his hip bone.

You inhaled deeply when you felt him start to push in. You'd think with how wet you were it would be easy, but your muscles were wound tight due to the nearly paralyzing fear of possibly waking Daryl.

There was a bit of self disgust when you felt the weight of reality sinking in. The absolute pathetic degeneracy of what you were doing with Daryl right next to you.

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

Rick swallowed a groan as his cock dug up into you, your walls hot and soft and squeezing the life out of him. He could feel how nervous you were so he slipped an arm over your side, his hand reaching for your own again.

You moaned.

His hand broke from your grip and clamped over your mouth. Neither of you moved for a solid minute.

It was the longest minute in history. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you, your clit throbbing so hard you thought it was going to have its own little heart attack.

Your thighs absentmindedly squeezed against Daryl's knee, and you were sure you'd start crying.

Finally, Rick began moving. His breathing was growing heavy behind your head, his face burying back into the mess of hair in front of him.

His movements were slow at first. Tantalizingly slow. He waited until he was sure you could stay quiet before picking up the pace.

Your eyes had adjusted a fair amount in the darkness. You looked up to Daryl, finding comfort when you saw his eyes were still closed, but he'd stopped snoring long ago.

You dismissed it and grabbed onto the wrist of the hand covering your mouth, gripping tight for support.

Your right hand slipped under the sheets to rest on your thigh, but instead landed on Daryl's lower thigh. He must've been a very heavy sleeper, because he didn't react to it beyond the muscles tensing under your palm.

The sound that escaped Rick's lips had your eyes rolling back into your head. A trembling whimper. His movements grew quicker and deeper, his dick dragging your walls against him, pulling out every drop of arousal he could and thrusting it back in.

Your mind spun as all thoughts left your brain. There was nothing going on up there anymore, just dark blackness, the feeling of Rick fucking you taking over your conscious body.

His hand grabbed yours, the one on Daryl's knee, and pulled it away from you, to the right.

When your fingers brushed up against something warm and soft, you didn't question it. You didn't even question his fingers moving yours to wrap around his dick.

Your eyes shot open.

Rick's dick was still inside you. His right hand was still on your mouth, his left on the small of your back.

Daryl's eyes were open, and looking right into yours.

You went to jerk your hand away out of reflex, but his grip was tight, forcing your fingers to stay wrapped around his thick cock. Your eyes flew over him, fighting to understand what was happening, when had he woken up? Just then? Or was he awake when he pushed his knee between your thighs?

The orgasm that came out of nowhere pushed all those questions aside.

You moaned against Rick's hand as you came, no longer trying to be quiet, no longer trying to keep your hips still. Your thighs clamped down on Daryl's knee, grinding rough and quick.

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

He tried to muffle your moans, forcing his hand down painfully hard on your mouth, but it did little. He bared his teeth near your ear and hissed for you to stop, the sound sharp and jarring as it came through his clenched teeth, but then his eyes landed on the scene over your body.

Daryl using your hand to stroke his dick. Daryl with his other arm bent behind his head, his face tilted to the side to watch your expressions with parted lips.

It took Rick a few seconds to recover from the near heart attack. He almost lost his boner from the heart dropping adrenaline, but your wet walls spasming around him coaxed his hips forward.

Now that you didn't need to be quiet you pulled Rick's hand off your mouth and gasped down a lungful of air. Your mouth was hot and dry, and it was hard to swallow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Daryl, his eyes, the eyes that hadn't left your face since he woke up.

God, he was unbelievably sexy. The way he was so responsive to your touch led you to believe your hand might possibly be the first hand to touch his dick other than his own.

He grunted softly, his eyes finally falling shut after you gently squeezed the base of his dick. You'd be content to get him off with one hand like you had been for the past few minutes, but you couldn't resist the urge to give him his first hand job and blowjob.

“Up.” You panted. You curled your finger at Daryl, pointing up. He happily obliged and sat upright, scooting up towards the headboard until his lap was right in front of your face.

He seemed absolutely thrilled, ecstatic even. His once heavy eyes were now wide open, watching every move you made as you shifted your upper half so your mouth could reach his dick.

Rick was still thrusting with hesitation when you moved. He watched you lick broad stripes on the underside of Daryl's dick, and he couldn't help but glance at his face to see his reaction.

Mouth hanging open, eyes clenched tightly shut, his expression almost looked pained. His hands had found their way to your hair, gripping two handfuls as he began trying to move your head for you.

You slapped his hands away and grabbed his wrists, an action that had his eyes opening and looking down at you.

“Don't.” Your hot breath tickled the sensitive skin of his tip. He pinched both his lips shut between his teeth, nodding quickly, a shaky closed-lip moan rattling in his throat.

Rick finally got ahold of himself and grabbed your hips to turn your lower half on your stomach. He kept his dick inside you as he slid on top of you, his knees spreading to rest on either side of your thighs.

You were taking Daryl's head past your lips when Rick suddenly fucked you like he'd been wanting to the entire time. Both his hands rested on the small of your back, pushing your hips down into the mattress with all his weight to keep them firmly in place.

You gasped around Daryl at the feeling of Rick pounding into you from above. It was a comically drastic change from only five minutes before when he thought Daryl was asleep.

Daryl's wrists flexed in your hands where you had them pressed against his lower stomach. You knew he was only keeping them there in your grasp because he allowed it, and not because you were somehow strong enough to keep even a single wrist of his in your fist, let alone two.

It took a lot of effort on Rick's part to actually finish. Having Daryl in the room when you fucked was one thing, but having him making all that noise just from your mouth was another.

He was honestly more surprised that Daryl actually enjoyed sex acts than the fact he was engaging in them with him in the room. With no one other than you, a girl he almost never saw him interact with.

Rick had assumed Daryl simply wasn't interested. Incorrectly assumed.

Either way, having Daryl only a few feet away from him while he had his dick inside you was something he wasn't sure he enjoyed. But the way you clenched around him every time he pulled back was enough to make him forget about it.

Daryl was struggling to keep himself together. He had no point of reference, but he thought you were incredibly talented at giving head. You were giving it your all, sucking and licking like your life depended on it. It was impressive how well you were managing to concentrate on blowing him with Rick making such a mess of your pussy.

You couldn't be happier. You knew there were so many women back in Alexandria that would kill to be in your position, lying in front of the Daryl Dixon, lying under the Rick Grimes, both of their dicks inside you.

“Wa-wait.” Daryl suddenly sputtered and ripped his wrists from your hands to cup the sides of your face, giving a few gentle slaps with the tips of his fingers.

You looked up, not taking your mouth off of him. His expression made your pussy clench around Rick and he groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep. He shifted his hips and ground down against you, quick and rough, his tip jabbing deep inside you.

The ragged moan you let out reverberated through Daryl, and the hand you had around his base gave a trembling squeeze.

“M’boutta, Jesus! Hey, oh, godfuckindamnit-” Daryl's jaw dropped and his eyes rolled back, his head tipping backwards as he made that same pained expression and came down your throat.

Your hips were roughly jerked up from the bed, shoving you back on Rick's dick, and then his hands slipped under your armpits to pull up your top half.

It was hard to stay upright, but thankfully Rick was generous enough to provide you the luxury of his hands tight against your tits, keeping your back flush against his chest.

Oh, it was a goddamn shame Daryl had just come. The sight in front of him was something he knew millions would pay- no, kill- to see. You looked breathtaking. Rick had taken your shirt off some time ago, leaving you completely bare as you kneeled in front of Daryl.

He forgot to breathe as he watched your face, slack in pleasure. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and on him, something that made his softening cock twitch. All that struggling just to look at someone like him? The hell did he deserve to have someone like you looking at him like that?

Rick deserved praise for the way he supported your weight with just his hands, keeping your entire upper half pressed against his chest while he fucked you in desperate effort to finally get off. His dick felt raw from how long he'd been at it, his balls throbbing from the delayed orgasm, it was a wonder he was able to keep himself upright, let alone you.

“Daryl.” The way you whimpered his name made his cock jump back to life, and he pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at you, eager to obey whatever it was you were about to ask.

“Yeah?” He rasped as he stared up at you.

You'd placed your hands over Rick's and moved his fingers over your nipples, which he was pinching and rolling, something he understood without you even needing to ask.

“Touch me, please.”

You didn't need to ask twice. Daryl inched down the bed and kept himself propped up on one elbow, his other arm sliding over his chest to reach your clit.

Rick decided at that moment he definitely didn't like threesomes. Feeling you twist and hearing you moan due to Daryl's thumb rubbing against you made his chest and face hot, a childish reaction considering you and Rick were not a thing, and certainly not an exclusive thing.

He just wasn't good at sharing.

The silly jealousy led to him putting his all into pleasing you. His thrusts became slower but deeper, more forceful, knocking out a gravely groan from your throat with each one. His hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail with his fist being the hair tie.

Your skin buzzed when he pressed his face into your neck to plant sloppy kisses. He bit down and you whined, arching your back against him and tilting your head to the side to provide him better access.

Unlike Rick, Daryl didn't have a care in the world. His mind was completely blank as he stared up at you above him, oblivious to the way his thumb cramped from the constant circles he rubbed into you.

“C'mere.” You breathed, wrapping your fingers in Daryl's hair to urge him up and guide his mouth to your nipples.

Daryl's eagerness to please was one of the hottest things you'd ever witnessed. He took your right nipple in his mouth and went to town like his life depended on it.

He flexed his tongue, digging the firm and wet muscle around your bud, circling it the same way his thumb now circled your clit.

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

You cried out and gripped Daryl's head tighter, pulling his mouth firm against your breast as you came.

The feeling of your walls squeezing the life out of his cock finally brought about Rick's own climax.

He wrapped his fist around the hair bundled in his grasp and tugged your head to the side, baring your neck to his itching teeth, and clamped down as he gave a rough thrust.

You'd failed to notice that at some point Daryl had grown hard again, only noticing when he let out a ragged moan into your wet chest.

Your bleary eyes found him and caught sight of his hand quickly jerking himself. There was the flash of thick cum spurting out, long ropes coating the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck.” You slurred. Now that was the new hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Rick's teeth released their grip on your neck. He pulled back and let his head droop back as he caught his breath, his shoulders heaving with deep and ragged pants. He became aware of how uncomfortably sweaty he was. His chest and back felt soaked, and he dropped your hair to pull away from you.

You heard Rick plop down on the bed behind you, the springs creaking from his sudden weight dropping on it all at once. You were too busy admiring Daryl to pay attention to it.

There was a lazy smile on your face, your eyes half lidded and glued to his face. Even though the room was dark you were sure you could see how red his cheeks were. His lips were glossy and parted as he took in deep breaths, still wet from drooling all over your tits.

He could barely keep his eyes open, and with the way you had one hand cupping his face, the other brushing back his sweaty hair, he wasn't sure he wanted to. The sweet way you were looking down at him was just too hard to look away from.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as one would think, even though it was obvious Rick was having some internal battle on the ethics of what he'd done the night before. He'd never been in a situation where he knew he really shouldn't be doing something like that, so his lack of restraint was new knowledge he'd have to ponder over.

Daryl couldn't give any less of a fuck, that morning he gave you the whole princess treatment. Grabbing your now dry clothes, your bag, your shoes, and bringing them to you. Offered you the last of his water and opened every door you came across for you. He didn't say much at all, much like Rick, but his mood was clearly the exact opposite.

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

“Hey.” Rick pulled you aside after you finally got back home, shooting Daryl a look to give the two of you privacy.

“Hi.” You smiled. The stern look on his face was cute.

“What we did-”

“Don't.” You stopped him, giving the man a tired smile. “It was the sexiest thing I've ever done and I'm fine with it being a one time thing, but don't ruin it and tell me it was wrong.”

“I wasn't going to say that.” His gaze had softened, but he still looked down at you with his hands on his hips like a disappointed authority figure. “I just don't want you to think it's okay to bring up if we're all alone again.”

“I'm not stupid.” You snorted, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Won't bring it up again.”

He sighed in frustration, trying not to roll his eyes but failing. “No, it ain't that either. Let's just- next time,” your eyes widened, “not be as spontaneous.”

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

Daryl was nowhere near as reserved about the experience. You could understand Rick's point of view, conservative family man, that was probably the most extreme thing he'd ever done in bed. But Daryl, oh, you'd just changed his fucking world.

“Pst.”

You stopped in front of the bathroom to see Daryl nodding you over, lighting a cigarette as he stood near the door to his room.

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

You beamed at the question, shifting your pile of clothes in your arms. “Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?”

He nodded as he took the first pull, turning his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “Is, uh…” He nodded his head to the front door, where Rick still stood on the porch talking to a few people. “He alright?”

“He's fine.”

“Alright. Good.” He shifted awkwardly. He cleared his throat, looking down at the cherry on his cigarette before bringing it back up to his lips. “That somethin' you wanna do again?”

You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide the ecstatic smile that threatened to embarrass you, and nodded.

He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh of relief and disbelief. There were a few seconds of silence, his eyes darting between his cigarette and your face. “With me?”

“Of course. Maybe next time just you.” You turned to head back to the bathroom but quickly turned on your heel and walked back to him. “Daryl? When did you,” you struggled to get the words out, ironic considering how bold youd been the night before, “you know, wake up?”

“Oh.” He grunted, his ears burning. “Dunno. While before.”

You felt a mix of embarrassment and relief. So he had pushed his knee between your legs on purpose. The thought had your stomach flipping and your face getting warm, so you gave a quick and polite smile before running off to the bathroom.

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

[darknight3904]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.7𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

I love you too.

Logan swears he's hallucinating as he drives back into the city, with you riding shotgun next to him. He rests his hand on your thigh as he drives, the windshield wipers squeak a bit as they push the water off the windshield. 

“What's going on up there?” He asks, noticing how you're rather quiet since he pulled away from the school.

“Thinking about how we just ditched Wade and Laura at a stranger's home.” You say 

“They're not strangers. Wade seems very familiar with Colossus.” Logan says 

You snort, “More like two steps away from being murdered by him.” 

“They're fine, bub. You worry too much.” He says, nonchalantly.

“Tell me something I don't know.” You sigh 

Logan watches as you look out the window at the trees and greenery that zip by. Their color looks more washed out than normal thanks to the rainy weather. 

All he can see though is you. His mind replayed how you looked when he admitted what he wanted to say after that night at the club, how he loved you, how he was in love with you. He feels his chest tighten, and now you know. 

“I’m also thinking about how I'm soaked to the bone.” You say, cranking the heat up on your side.

“Don't worry, I'm gonna keep you nice warm when we get home.”

You look over at Logan, wondering if he even heard himself right now. 

“Not like that.” He backpedals, “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

“Yeah, okay Logan.” You laugh 

Logan unlocks the door to the dark apartment and the two of you stumble in, you nearly trip over a dog toy Mary has left behind. Logan's big hands loop around you and he presses a warm kiss to your neck and mumbles something about getting dry clothes and running a bath before disappearing into his room.

The apartment is silent as you clean up the dog toys that nearly ended your life a few moments ago. You toss them into the bin that Wade decorated with stickers for Mary before glancing at the closed bedroom door that Logan was behind.

"Wait!" His voice calls as he scrambles to pull his boxers on when you push the door open.

"Nice ass." You compliment as he yanks them up just a second too late

"Pervert," Logan grumbles, walking over to you, still missing his shirt and pants, reaching out to pull you flush to his chest.

"You love it." You mumble with a smile

"You should get out of those wet clothes." Logan gestures to you, "Gonna get sick like that."

"You're right, I will." You smile coyly, "Help me take 'em' off?"

Logan's hands pull the fabric off your wet cardigan off your body. His eyes roam the exposed skin as your hands fumble with the buttons of your jeans. You pull the uncomfortable wet denim from your skin and kick them off, leaving you in a mismatched bra and panties. Had you known you were going to try to seduce him tonight, you might've broken the Victoria's Secret out.

Logan's lips met yours for the second time this evening, this time hot with want and desire as his hands began to roam your body.

"Gotta warm you up, pretty girl." He whispered in your ear, “I'll run you a bath. You like that lavender stuff in the water right?” 

“Don't want a bath.” You sigh, gently pushing him towards his mattress. You know what you want, and so does he.

He chuckles as he sits on the bed and pulls you on top of him, sitting in his lap, straddling what his boxers were doing a terrible job at hiding.

"You sure?" He asks softly

You nod excitedly and he laughs a bit at your eagerness.

“Let me hear it.” He orders sternly 

“I want it, Logan. I want you.” You say 

Logan smiles and presses a warm kiss to the back of your hand. 

"Let's take these off then, hm?"

His hands ran over your bra and then one came down to deliver a feather-light touch to your clit through your panties.

The last of your clothes disappeared onto the floor as Logan spun you around so your back was resting on the mattress. One big hand snuck between your legs as his mouth remained locked on your neck, whispering dirty things into the skin there.

His thumb brushed over your sensitive slit while two fingers slipped into you.

"Thought of you like this." He admits into your skin

"Yeah?" You breathlessly answer, distracted by his fingers

"Mmhm. All spread out for me." He mumbled, "So pretty."

His fingers at the spongy spot that was deep in your cunt and your hips arched off the bed.

"Logan..." You gasp, your hand wrapping around his wrist, unsure if you want him to stop or keep going.

"All mine." He whispers as you cry out, your orgasm washing over you quicker than you expected.

"Fuck." You sigh as he moves away from you, letting you come down.

"You alright?" He asks softly

"I'm good." You say, "Great actually."

"I aim to please." He jokes

"Can we keep going?" You ask, looking over at his handsome face

"Course we can." He smiles, going to sit back up, only to be stopped by you gently pushing him back down

Logan shook his head a bit as you pulled his boxers down, letting his cock out. The hiss he let out when you ran your fingertips along the head had you practically dizzy with lust.

"Stop fucking teasing." He rasped, pulling you onto him, forcing you to straddle his muscular form.

You move to line him up with you and tense up when you begin to lower your hips.

"Go slowly." Logan softly says, rubbing circles into your waist

Your face scrunches up as you slowly drop down. Fuck he was big. Your ass finally meets his hips and you let out a small gasp, trying to adjust.

Logan isn't much better under you as he bites at his lip, his hand coming up to play with your chest that you have practically shoved in his face.

"If you want we can change positions. I don't want you to hurt-"

A loud moan cut his sentence off as you suddenly lifted off him, only to drop back down. One big hand held you steady as the other drifted down to your clit while you rode him.

"Fuck..." He groaned into the heat of your neck, you were going to be the death of him

Your knees were digging into his things as you groaned when his fingers played with you just right. Below you, Logan's hips lifted up, matching your hips with his own thrusts.

"M' close." You whisper

"Yeah?"

The cocky smirk that plays on his lips has you pressing your own to his. Always so egotistical.

Your body shook above his and you broke the kiss, his swollen lips moving to attach themselves to your chest.

"Let go, hon." He said into the flesh, "M' right here, c'mon."

You groaned as your orgasm rolled over you, your eyes slammed shut as Logan sucked another hickey onto your chest.

"Your turn." You whisper into his ear running your tongue along the skin.

"My turn." He parroted before flipping you over and pressing your marked chest to the mattress.

Big hands rubbed at your ass as he pushed back in, cursing when your cunt let him in again.

"So fucking warm." He mumbled as he shallowly thrust into you

His tip was just barely in you as you groaned below him. Despite just getting off, you were greedy and wanted more from him.

"Logan." You sigh nerdily 

"Hmm?" He responded, fully aware of what he was doing to you.

That piece of shit knew exactly what you wanted.

"Faster. Deeper." You groan

"You sure you can handle that?" He laughs

“Please.” You mumble into the sheets below you, your sanity was slowly withering away the longer he had you like this.

“Begging? I must be good.” He laughs cockily

"Logan!" You yell, upset with his teasing

"Sorry." He says, a tilt of amusement filling his tone

You know he's not sorry but his hips speeding up have you forgetting your anger. Electricity shot through your spine as the sound of the rain against the window tried to drown you and Logan's moans out.

"C'mon..." Logan grunted from behind you as his hips shifted

His cock brushed that spot inside you and you let out a muffled whine into the mattress.

"Found her." Logan cockily said, "One more, can you do that?"

You find yourself nodding into the soft sheets as he goes even deeper.

Overstimulation had tears dancing in your waterline as Logan's groans filled your ears. His big hands held your hips as moved against you.

"Close." He warned you

One hand left your hips and fell to your clit. His thumb brushed over the overstimulated nerves and you were done. A loud moan left your mouth as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Good girl." Logan praised as he fucked you through the orgasm.

Vaguely, you feel him pull out and let go all over your back, moaning your name as he did so.

The bed shifts as he moves away from you, you feel the soft fabric of what's probably a t-shirt cleaning your back before it dips lower and runs between your legs. Your hips wiggle away and a small whimper leaves your mouth.

"Shhh." Logan says "It's a mess down here."

Semi-clean and fully exhausted, you bury your face in the pillows as Logan lies down next to you, he tosses an arm around you and pulls you close so your sweaty skin is touching his. Both of you lying on your sides, staring at each other full of bliss.

"You okay? Not in pain?" He asks, clearly concerned

"I'm great." You admit, leaning in and placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

"Good." He laughs, "So am I."

You take in his handsome features up close and run a finger down the bridge of his nose. Your legs are entangled with his as he lets his eyes close, enjoying your touch.

"M' sorry about earlier." He says, "For making you think I wanted Jean."

"I was being stupid." You admit, "You can talk to whoever you want."

"No, I knew what you had been through in the past and I ignored you anyway." He says, opening his eyes again to look at you

"I forgive you." You smile, your nose brushing his

"You sure?" He asks, "You're not going to turn me into a blood stain in the middle of the night?"

You smile and shake your head, "Who said I was spending the night?"

"You honestly think I'm going to let you go back to your own bed after all that?" Logan scoffed, referring to the mind-numbing sex.

"Dunno, My bed is memory foam. Pretty comfortable if you ask me."

"You're staying right here, with me." Logan said, tightening his hold on you, "You're all mine now."

"I always have been." 

Warm sunshine wakes you up the next morning. The bed is empty as you stretch and push your tangled hair from your eyes. 

Where was Logan? 

Better yet, where were your clothes? 

You pull yourself out of bed and pull Logan's drawers open, finding an “I survived NYC!” shirt, you slip it on and step back into your discarded panties. 

The scent of breakfast has you hopeful you'll see a shirtless Logan Howlett over the stove making something delicious. 

Much to your disappointment, there is a shirtless man there, just not your shirtless man. 

“Morning, slut.” Wade greets, “Eggs?” 

You flash Wade the middle finger before walking off to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower. 

Hot water steams the bathroom up as you step into the stream, closing your eyes as it runs down your back. You can't help but wonder where Logan is as you shampoo your head. Perhaps it regretted it all and was running off.

No. He wouldn't do something like that. Would he? 

Worry fills your stomach as you dry yourself off, ready to sneak back to your room for some fresh clothes. 

You pull the bathroom door open and peer into the kitchen, hoping that Wade is gone. 

To your dismay he's still there, this time eating his food. Surprisingly another person is there too. 

“Logan.” You greet, tiptoeing into the room, still wrapped in your towel. 

“I was hoping you'd still be asleep when I got back.” He says, crossing the room to hand you one of the coffees in his hands. 

You take a long sip of the liquid, and a welcome warmth spreads across your chest as you do. 

“Duke’s.” You smile, “You remembered my order.” 

“Course I did.” Logan leans down and presses a small kiss to your cheek, “Go throw some clothes on and we can get back in bed and drink coffee together. I even stopped at a bagel shop on the way back.” 

You nod and scurry down the hall to your room in search of clothes. 

Laura is already awake, watching some YouTube video on her laptop. 

“Morning.” She greets 

“Good morning.” You say 

God, you feel so awkward talking to her. Why did you feel like you were the teen being caught with her boyfriend when she was the kid and you were the adult? Wait, did she even know about you and him? Was she even going to be okay with it? She had said to be friends with him, not to sleep with him! You were a terrible parental figure. 

“I know about you and Logan,” Laura says looking up

Oh. 

“I'm sorry.” You're unsure how to approach this with her 

“Why apologize? You two are happy together. And I'm happy seeing you together.” She says 

“Really? It's not weird?” You ask 

She shakes her head with a smile, “I think it'd be weirder not seeing you two together.” 

You nod and slip into pajamas, relieved she approves of it all. 

“What I don't like is how you ditched me at the school last night.” Laura chastises “That Scott guy drove us home and he and Wade argued the whole time.” 

You cringe at the thought of the ride she had to suffer through while you were with Logan. 

“Can I make it up to you by promising not to ever ditch you again?” You ask 

“That. And I want more closet space.” Laura says 

“Ugh. Fine.” You groan “Toss my sweaters on my bed, I'll find somewhere else to store them.” 

“How about in Logan's room?” She teases as you leave the room with a groan of embarrassment. 

Wade approaches you just before you push the bedroom door open to Logan. 

“I’ll let you have your little love nest today with big yellow. But just so you know I am not sleeping with Al again tonight.” Wade says, “Her farts smell like rotten eggs. Did you know she even tried to dutch oven me last night?”

“Thanks, Wade, just what I wanted to hear.” You groan 

“You’re welcome. I’m hoping that sets the mood for you.” Wade laughs 

You enter the bedroom to see Logan already back under the covers, white wife beater doing nothing to hide the rippling muscle underneath. A wrapped-up bagel comes flying at your face as you stand there ogling him. 

“You’re drooling,” Logan says as you catch it with ease 

You shuffle into bed beside him, climbing under the covers and scooting so you’re close to him. 

“Can’t believe you just threw a bagel at me.” You sigh with faux sadness 

“Next time I’ll be sure to hit you with it.” 

“I’ll shove it down your throat and watch you choke.” You counter 

Logan turns to you and looks at you like you’re crazy. 

“Hypothetical situation.” You shrug, taking a bite of the food. 

“You’re twisted.” He shakes his head 

“You love it.” You smile 

“Do I?” He says

He turns his head but you catch the small smile that plays on his lips. 

Logan pulls Wade’s laptop onto his bed and opens Netflix up. 

“When did you learn to do that?” You ask 

“Just because I’m 200 doesn't mean I don’t know how to work a computer, bub.” He sighs, scrolling through the options 

“Yeah, but last week you cursed out Laura’s Nintendo Switch when it wasn’t connecting to the TV correctly.” You say, “You threatened to toss it out the window.” 

Logan lets out a grunt of acknowledgement and clicks on quite possibly the saddest movie in the world, Marley and Me, “How about this one?” 

“This one is ridiculously sad.” You groan, thinking of the last time you watched it.

“It doesn’t look that sad. Look, they're running on a beach with a dog.” Logan points to the screen as the preview plays 

“Hit play then.” You shake your head, he was going to eat his words in two hours. 

You know what made you such a great dog, is you loved us every day no matter what.

You shift in your spot from where you had been tucked into Logan’s side, gauging his face for any reaction to the movie. This was the saddest scene in the movie and the man was as stoic as ever. He was insane. He had to be legally insane. 

“This is sad.” Logan comments suddenly 

“If it’s so sad, why aren’t you crying?” 

“I don't cry over movies.” Logan huffs, gaze still stuck on the screen.

“Heartless bastard.” You mumble, leaning back into him just in time to watch the beloved Marley close his eyes 

“Are you crying?” Logan asked 

“No.” You lie. 

“I can feel the tears on my arm.” 

You glance down to see that some of your tears have rolled down your face and landed on the arm he has secured around your waist, keeping you pressed to him. 

“You’re delusional.” 

“Thanks.”

Later, you stand over the stove, watching the grilled cheese simmer in the pan while Al sits at the table to tell you about her day and how Wade dragged her around some shopping mall. 

“And then the motherfucker left me in the back of Spencer’s holding a dildo bigger than my arm.” She says 

“You should’ve bought it and beat him with it when he came back.” You say 

“That shit was nearly forty dollars! I’m not buying that when I can beat him for free with one of those wooden spoons in the drawer.” Al explains, gesturing to the drawer on your right. 

“Fair point. Want one now? I’m pretty sure he’s watching Love Island on the couch with Vanessa and Laura.” 

“Later. I’ll get him when he’s sleeping tonight.” Al brushes you off, “I bet Laura will help me draw something on his face.

You want to tell her that Laura will most definitely help her but never get the chance as big arms snake around your waist and Logan’s face is suddenly buried in your neck from behind. A litter of kisses is pressed to the delicate skin and Logan whispers to you, 

“Y’smell so good.” 

“Ugh! Gross! Go procreate somewhere else!” Wade gasps as he enters the kitchen, “Where’s the fucking Clorox? We need a wipedown over here!” 

“Stop that,” Vanessa says, nudging him as Logan lets you go, opting to lean on the counter beside you. 

“They’re literally about to reenact Fifty Shades and you’re telling me to stop? I don’t think Ana told Christian Grey that one when she was tied up on his-” 

“You’re really annoying.” You cut him off with a sharp glare

“Thank you, I’m here for the rest of your life.” Wade bows 

Logan pulls the fridge open and retrieves beers for himself, you, and Vanessa, popping the lids off with ease. 

“Alight, fuck me, I guess.” Wade scowls, going to get his own beer 

“I only get beer for people who don’t annoy me,” Logan says indifferently 

“I do not annoy you.” Wade says, “You’re literally the Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell, Peanut.” 

You flip the sandwiches, ready to toast them on the other side and Logan pulls you into him, tossing an arm around your shoulders. 

“So, for all our lovely readers out there, I think we need to slap a label on this puppy, go on tell the audience, Peanut,” Wade says 

You look at Logan in confusion, neither of you had any idea what he was saying. 

“God, you guys are two dense peas in a pod, made for each other. Labels, I’m talking labels people! What are you guys now? Certainly, we’re done with the enemies-to-lovers arc. Now we need to define the relationship!” Wade groans

Logan looks down at you and you up at him. You’re not sure what he wants to call it. You’ve never truly been one to label relationships, after all, your last one had failed so miserably. 

“She’s mine,” Logan says suddenly, tightening his hold on you, like Wade was going to whisk you away and he’d be stuck here with Al, Laura, and Vanessa. Oh, and of course little Mary. 

You smile up at him, you like the sound of it. 

“Fuck yes! Finally, thought I was never going to see the end. Y’know I can only sit on the tag list for so long before I get antsy.”

Logan shrugs as the two of you and Vanessa watch Wade talk to his hands which are mimicking the way one would hold a cell phone. 

“Those Tumblr bitches are going to love this chapter. HA! It’s even got the 18+ label slapped up there in red!”  

Logan leans down and presses a kiss to your ear before going to whisper in it, “All mine.” 

“Yours.” You whisper back 

That night, you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms in his bed once more. Wade is across the room, a sleep mask on his eyes that says “Fuck Off!” is illuminated by the street lights that shine through the curtains. You had pinky promised the Merc with the Mouth that you and Logan would absolutely not have sex while Wade slept in his own bed tonight. 

That led to where you were now, unable to sleep, still a bit dialed up from the idea that you were being spooned by Logan of all people. Seriously, it was like a fanfiction come to life. 

You shift your legs beneath the covers again, your body is tired yet your mind refused to shut off. 

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked softly 

“Can’t sleep.” You whisper back 

“What’s on your mind?” Logan asked, shifting onto his back and pulling you with him so you were resting your head on his chest. 

“Dunno, lots of stuff. Like how Australia is wider than the moon.” You say 

“Really?” Logan asked 

“Yeah, Laura told me she learned it in Science class the other day. Apparently, crocodiles can’t stick their tongues out either.” 

“Strange.” Logan sighs, “What else do you have up there?” 

“When you type the word Alaska, it’s the only state that can be typed with one row of a keyboard.” 

Logan stays silent for a moment, rolling the thought over in his mind. 

“Shit, you’re right. Where’d you learn all this?” He asks 

“I had a lot of time in Maine after the Professor asked me to leave.” You shrug, “Spent time on Google.” 

“You’re like a walking fun facts book,” Logan says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, content with listening to you talk.

“I’m taking that as a compliment.”

Four Months Later

It’s a cold February day as you unload boxes from the moving truck into your new apartment. It was only a block away from Al and Wade’s but the cold winds had made it impossible to just carry things up and down the sidewalk. 

“I think this is the last of it. Besides the couch.” Laura says as she places three large boxes on the ground. 

You curse her super strength. Why couldn’t you do that, you had been stuck making multiple trips while she and Logan carried multiple boxes at once with ease. 

“You should probably go down there and referee. I think they’re going to kill each other, or well try to.” Laura says as the sounds of Logan and Wade arguing drift up the steps and into the apartment. 

“Of course they are.” You sigh, “Can you put some of the kitchen stuff away?” 

Laura nods and moves to open a box marked ‘Plates’. 

Three flights of steps later, you find Logan and Wade arguing over how to hold the couch to get it up the steps. Vanessa stands behind them, one hand on her hip, the other holding a beat-up lamp that has Logan’s claw marks in its shade. It must’ve been collateral damage from an old fight between him and Wade. 

“Move your hands to the right,” Wade says, his voice full of annoyance for Logan.

“I’m holding it just fine.” Logan growls 

“Oh really? Then why am I doing all the heavy lifting? What good are all those muscles if you don’t pull your weight? Do you know how disappointed I am in you? Those Hawaiian rolls are nothing but for show huh? What are the readers going to think, our movie comes out on digital on October 1st according to Canadian Superstar Ryan Reynolds' Instagram. Peanut, you are letting them down by not doing this shirtless I'm telling you.

“Stop fucking talking.” Logan grunts, "It's the middle of February I'm not doing anything shirtless."

"Nothing except, Pumpkin apparently." Wade glances up at you on the next landing and waves at you, "Tell me how big is it?"

"Bring the couch upstairs and then we can talk dick sizes." You groan

"Uh oh." Wade snorts, "Sounds like someone's got a micropenis. Don't worry Honey Badger, it's perfectly normal."

The sound of the couch slamming to the ground and the skirt of six metal claws appearing have you groaning. This was never going to get done.

"It was a joke, Loagie. I'm a humorous guy." Wade shrugs, undeterred.

Somehow, the couch makes its way up the steps and into the living room. Wade receives a pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek from Vanessa as payment as Logan returns to your side, stinking of sweat. 

“You smell.” You point out

“He gets a kiss, and all I get is that I smell?” He asks 

“Sorry, buddy.” You pat his bicep, “Honestly is important in a relationship.” 

You yelp when Logan takes a tea towel from one of the boxes and gently whips your ass with it. 

“Kinky.” Wade calls, “Invite me over next time!” 

You spend the rest of the day with Laura, helping her decorate her new room with the various knick-knacks and lights she likes. 

“Bet you’re glad to have your own space.” You say as you put a framed picture of her and you onto her dresser. 

“Yeah. I’m glad it's not sharing a wall with the two of you though.” She says 

Why the hell was she so blunt? Your face burned in embarrassment. 

“Sorry…” You say 

“I expect noise-canceling headphones if you two are going to be doing…that while I’m home.” She says 

“Or, we’ll just be good adoptive parents and restrain ourselves.” 

“Doubtful!” Wade laughs as he passes Laura’s room while helping Logan with a bedframe. 

You groan and shake your head, “We’ll go out to get the headphones tomorrow.” 

That night, you lay in bed while Logan slips back in and dries himself off from a much needed shower. You had an idea pop into your mind while he was in the bathroom and desperately needed to ask him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks looking at you

“Nothing.” You lie 

“You haven’t made one comment about my ass yet. Something’s wrong.” He discerns as he stands at the foot of the bed 

“Sorry,” You laugh, “You, Logan Howlett have an amazing ass.” 

“Thank you.” He nods, “Now, spill it. What’re you thinking about?”

“Do you think that we’re together in other universes?” You ask 

“I’m sure there’s gotta be a few out there. Why?” He asks 

“Dunno. It just didn't work out for either of us the first time. And in Laura’s universe, her versions of us had a terrible fate.” You say 

“You worried we’re going to be ripped apart by some evil force?” Logan asks with a chuckle, slipping his boxers on.

“No, I was just thinking about it. Like, I wonder how many other lives there are out there where we’re together.” You explain 

“I don’t really care about those other lives,” Logan says, getting on the bed and crawling under the covers beside you. 

You scoff, “Thanks for that. It was just hypothetical.” 

“I don’t care about those other people, the other life they’re living, doesn’t matter to me.” He says, “I’m focused on this one here in front of me. The one with you.” 

A warm fuzzy feeling dances across your chest at his admission. He truly was something.

“Promise?” You ask, teasing him.

A small smile stretches across your face as Logan presses a kiss to your lips, a deep laugh escapes, followed by a groan rumbling across his chest when you pull at his hair. He breaks away from you and rests his forehead against yours. Your breaths mingle together in the silence as he speaks again,

“Promise.”

The End

Extra Part: Is It New Years Yet?

Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed this story.

My parting gift? Ash pictures of course ;)

I hope to see you all in the one-shots, if not that's okay, I'm not going to make you read them.

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[iateyourparents]

red kisses | j.w.

pairing: jake webber x fem!reader

summary: you got a new lipstick and you just had to prank your boyfriend with it.

warnings: nothing really, just bad writing and grammar(sorry, english isn’t my first language).

an: i got this idea from tik tok but i unfortunately couldn’t find this girl:((

pictures are from pinterest:)

You got a new lipstick. But not any lipstick, it was a color changing lipstick.

At first it was in neutral color and then after few minutes it was starting to get red and redder until it was bloody red.

So of course you had to use this on your lovely boyfriend.

You already pranked him with normal red lipstick and he wasn’t mad but well, now he was making sure you doesn’t have red lipstick on when you kissed him before he was supposed to go out.

Currently Jake was in shower so you quickly took your phone deciding to share this prank with your viewers on instagram later. You recorded a quick intro telling them about your purchase and plan.

Then when you heard that water stopped running you pretended that you still were on the couch with your phone.

„Hi baby.” Jake smiled at you and sat next to you.

„Hi love.” you also smiled at him opening your arms and he gladly laid half of his body on yours and snuggled into you.

You stayed like that a few minutes.

“Go dry your hair babe, we don’t want you to get sick and you have to go in few minutes.” you reminded him. He was supposed to be out with Johnnie in thirty minutes so that was perfect opportunity for your prank.

Jake sighed but did what you said and went to bathroom to use dryer.

„Baby, can you do my hair?” you heard Jake asking.

„Sure.”

Few minutes later he was sitting on the floor in front of you with you brushing his hair. You styled it the way you knew he liked and then he was almost ready to go.

„I’ll go change. I’ll miss you.” he pouted and you giggled quietly kissing the top of his head.

„I’ll miss you too but i’m not sure if Johnnie will be happy with that reasoning.”

„Stupid Johnnie.” you heard Jake muttering under his breath and you only shook your head with small smile while he was getting up from the floor.

He went to yours room and you quickly started recording on your phone and you put on your new lipstick. As you expected, it was almost clear like a lipgloss. You quickly hid your phone and not five seconds after you were done with hiding, Jake was back from the bedroom in new clothes.

You acted like you were taking something from a cabinet in kitchen.

„I have to go.” you didn’t have to look at him to know he had a pout on his lips.

You smiled at him and opened your arms and he quickly ran to you and was snuggling into you.

Few seconds later he took his hands from your back to grab your waist and lift you onto the kitchen counter.

You giggled and took his face in your hands and kissed his lips, he gladly deepened kiss.

When you disconnected your lips you also left kiss on his left cheek and side of his neck. You made sure to press your lips a little harder to leave a lipstick in those places.

„Don’t keep Johnnie waiting.” you lightly patted his ass and he smiled at you.

“I’ll be back soon.” he promised at kissed your forehead and then nose “Bye love.”

“Bye baby, have fun!” you waved at him and he got out.

You took your phone from its hiding spot and you stopped recording.

You waited few minutes and then updated your video with how your lips and places Jake kissed were almost bloody red.

You waited for some message from Jake about your prank but got nothing so you waited for him to be back home.

Finally, some time later when you were watching a film you heard a keys jiggle on the other side of the door so you quickly started recording and pointed phone camera on the door.

Jake came in with wide smile and red lips shaped spot remaining on his neck, but the ones from lips and cheek were gone.

“So I noticed your prank.” he accused pointing his finger at you “How the hell it appeared after I was out?”

You laughed and explained “I bought color changing lipstick.”

He gasped and came to sit next to you.

“I was so shocked when Johnnie told me about lipstick stains because you had no lipstick on.” he pouted and you giggled, but then he smiled widely and pointed at the kiss on his neck “I kept this one and I think I should make a tattoo like this one with your kiss.”

You smiled at him because well, he for sure looked good with this kiss.

“You definitely should.” you nodded and stopped recording to start kissing him and he gladly accepted this.

“But be careful.” he warned when you disconnected your lips “I’ll have my revenge!” he laughed mischievously and you only nodded with small smile.

“Sure love.” and you were back to kissing him.

[embbarnes]

Rinse Cycle.

summary: Bucky pulls his arm from the dishwasher and you love how warm it is.

warnings: Smut | 18+ MDNI | TB*!Bucky | Fingering | Dirty talk | Swearing | Groping | Nipple play | Teasing | Orgasm denial (you do finish in the end hehe)

a/n: Thunderbolts* trailer has me feral af. I have so many ideas I want to write, but this is a start. I didn't mean for this to get so long but maybe that's just Bucky pulling more passion out of me. I need him. We don't know how he's going to act in the movie so I just sort of winged it from what the trailer provided. Unedited. ;; wc: 5.8k

It was chore day. You hated chore day.

The monotony of it all felt suffocating, an endless cycle of tedious tasks that seemed to pile up endlessly. Dishes stacked in the sink, laundry overflowing from the hamper, bathroom in dire need of scrubbing, kitchen counters cluttered with remnants of meals past, and trash threatening to spill over - it all felt like an insurmountable mountain of responsibilities.

The weight of these mundane tasks pressed down on you, a constant reminder of the adulting you'd been avoiding. But there was no escaping it any longer; you had procrastinated to the very limit of what was tolerable.

You tried not to be too hard on yourself about the state of things. Both you and Bucky struggled with mental health and that often made seemingly simple tasks, like washing dishes or tidying up, feel overwhelmingly difficult. You both understood this struggle and did your best to help one another out. You developed a system and worked together, splitting household chores as a team when possible. But you both had your days where you couldn’t contribute as much, so it was up to the other to carry it.

With a heavy sigh, you began the dreaded process by gathering the scattered laundry. Your movements were deliberately quiet as you crept into the bedroom where Bucky was currently taking a heavy nap. His face, usually etched with worry lines, appeared peaceful for once. You couldn't help but pause for a moment, taking him in, his features and how beautiful he was to you. It was a stark contrast to the terrorized nights you'd both endured, filled with his restless tossing and turning.

Thankfully, the relentless nightmares he suffered from had become less frequent since you'd started sharing the bed. It had been a slow process, watching him migrate from the cold, hard floor, to the slightly more comfortable couch, and finally to the warmth and safety of your shared bed.

You often slept with him before his migration, napping on the floor during the night or on the couch while he remained on the floor. You both laid together on the couch, but you also slept separately. Now, you were just glad he had finally moved into bed with you.

He was curled up in bed, his form a picture of peaceful slumber. His messy hair framed his face, giving him an endearing, boyish look. His mouth was slightly open, soft breaths escaping in a gentle rhythm, and his metal arm was absent from his body. It wasn't an uncommon thing, as he occasionally removed it when he slept, he said sometimes it feels better without the weight of it straining his back muscles when he laid down. Bucky really only did this when he felt truly safe and secure in his surroundings, aka, only around you and in your shared home. The missing prosthetic wasn't on the bedside table where he usually placed it, so he must be cleaning it.

You gathered the scattered laundry from around the room so you could leave him to his nap, creating a neat pile in your arms. Making your way to the laundry area, you passed the kitchen and saw the rinse cycle on the dishwasher, figuring his arm was in there. You threw the dirty clothes into the washing machine when you reached it, setting it to run. There was a load of dry clothes waiting to be dealt with, so you folded these items and set them aside for later. Your next task took you to the bathroom, where you began the process of cleaning and tidying. You finished scrubbing just in time to come out and see Bucky standing at the dishwasher.

Bucky looked absolutely precious when he woke up, despite his usual brooding when you fawned over him so sweetly, his tousled hair framing his face in a messy halo, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. His expression was one of endearing drowsiness that only comes from a deep slumber. When his gaze finally focused on you, a flicker of realization crossed his features. In an adorable attempt to appear more presentable, he quickly turned to the sink, fumbling slightly with the faucet before running his hand under the cool stream of water.

"Hey doll..." he mumbled, his voice still rough with sleep. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep for longer than an hour." His hand continued to run through his disheveled hair, attempting to tame the unruly strands. The water caused his dark locks to stick up at odd angles, somehow making him look even more endearing. "Guess I needed it more than I thought..." he added sheepishly, a small, apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You've been pushing yourself so hard lately, Bucky. Your body was probably crying out for a break," you replied softly, your voice filled with understanding and affection. You made your way around the sleek granite counter, each step bringing you closer to him. A warm smile spread across your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement at his disheveled state and hurried attempt to tame his hair. He decided to grow it out a while ago, he liked having you play with it, and his shorter hair didn’t feel as satisfying when your fingers carded through it.

"So..." you began, your tone taking on a playful lilt. "I see you put it in the dishwasher again, huh?" A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you gestured towards the kitchen appliance, your eyes dancing with mirth. It was a recurring joke between the two of you, one day he forgot to tell you about his arm and you were shocked to find it in there.

He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the bottom rack, his eyes immediately drawn to the peculiar sight of a metallic arm nestled beside two off-white ceramic plates. The sight of the advanced prosthetic among mundane kitchenware was both amusing and slightly absurd to you. "Do not tell me you ran a whole cycle and there were only two plates in there..." You groaned softly, a mixture of exasperation and disbelief coloring your voice. Your reaction elicited a low, rumbling chuckle from him, the sound warm and slightly mischievous.

"Maybe." Bucky's response was accompanied by a playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached into the dishwasher and carefully retrieved his steaming vibranium arm, the advanced metal still radiating intense heat from the cleaning cycle. The heather black surface of the arm was a striking contrast against his skin, with intricate gold accents peeking through the articulated plates, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow.

As he deftly maneuvered the prosthetic towards his shoulder, the air seemed to hum with anticipation. The arm's sensors flickered to life, bathing the immediate area in a soft, ethereal violet glow. Bucky aligned the arm with his shoulder socket, and in one fluid motion, it locked into place with a satisfying click. The plates of the arm began to shift and recalibrate, the movement reminded you of a living organism adapting to its environment. You remembered once you had made the comparison to a caterpillar squiggling across a leaf.

He threw his arm in a quick, fluid motion, the circular movement causing a sudden surge of heat to radiate through your core. The soft grunt that escaped his lips as his arm swung through the air didn't go unnoticed by you. You found yourself moving closer to him without any sort of cause, your body responding instinctively to the simple action.

The arm still retained the warmth from the cycle it ran through, you could feel the radiating heat even from a short distance away. Vibranium was notorious for holding and distributing kinetic energy, this also applied to heat and cold. Unable to resist, your fingertips delicately grazed over the smooth, metallic surface. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt the temperature of the arm in comparison to your cooler skin.

Bucky's piercing gaze followed your every movement, his eyes immediately drawn to the telltale flush that had begun to spread across your cheeks. A knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth as he observed your reaction.

"Ah...what's wrong, sweetheart..." he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that unmistakable teasing tone that you had come to recognize all too well. It was a tone that never failed to set your heart racing, a prelude to the passionate encounters that often followed. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, you shuffled in place and felt your legs squeeze together for some kind of friction.

"Nothing..." you huffed out, your voice much quieter than anticipated, barely above a whisper. "Your arm is just... so warm. It feels nice…"

"Does it?" he inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and amusement, the gentle lilt in his voice made your heart flutter ever so slightly.

Your mind began to wander, racing with vivid thoughts of how his arm would feel against your body. You imagined his strong hand tenderly caressing your back, his fingers tracing delicate patterns as they ran down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The mental image continued, his touch ghosting over the curve of your ass, his hands gently massaging your thighs, kneading away any tension and replacing it with a tingling sensation that spread throughout your body.

Or simply Bucky holding you close, his warmth enveloping you completely when you felt a little chilly, providing not just the physical comfort you craved from him but also a sense of safety and belonging, something you had always struggled with before you met.

He had done all of that countless times before, yet for some reason, with the arm radiating a warmth significantly more intense than its usual room temperature coolness, a deep, tingly sensation began to stir deep within your core. You found yourself swallowing hard, your gaze slowly lifting to meet his.

You guided his hand towards your neck, Bucky's eyebrow raised ever so slightly at your action. But, he wasn’t stupid. He unfurled his palm, allowing his fingertips to caress your skin with a delicate touch. The feather-light contact sent shivers down your spine, once he felt your body give him that little shiver, he encircled your throat with his fingers, maintaining a loose yet unmistakably present grip. His voice was low and husky, leaning down a bit until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. "What do you want, babydoll?"

"I...want...to feel your hand." You rasped in response, your voice thick with desire. A wave of heat coursed through your body, pooling between your legs as his voice sent shivers down your spine. Your body responded to him instantly, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Unable to resist the magnetic pull, you shuffled closer to him, your hands splaying across his broad chest. The fabric of his shirt did little to mask the warmth radiating from his skin, and you found yourself growing more desperate with each passing second, craving the feeling of him close to you.

Bucky chuckled, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against your palms. His scruff tickled your cheekbone as he leaned in, laying a hasty but tender kiss to your temple. The brief contact left your skin burning, yearning for more, like a drug being given and suddenly taken away. His metal hand moved down your body with agonizing slowness, the fucker did it on purpose to tease you more. He gently teased the sensitive skin just above your shorts, his fingers dancing along the waistband before sliding beneath your top.

While your skin was feverish, the touch of the very hot vibranium felt electrifying against you. Normally, the touches from his hand would tickle, raising goosebumps in their wake from the cold metal. But now it felt incredibly comforting and arousing all at once. The warmth spreading through your body was addictive, a delicious heat that you couldn't get enough of. He continued caressing you with a gentle and possessive touch, you arched into his hand in response, silently begging for more.

You couldn't suppress the soft whimper that escaped your lips as his hand continued its tantalizing journey across your abdomen. His fingers danced along your skin, deliberately brushing against your sensitive sides, making you quiver. His trail was agonizingly slow, but his touch ascended, finally reaching the delicate area just beneath your breasts. Your breath was caught in your throat, and he stopped moving his hand completely, having it instead rest still on your skin and the area turning a bit red from the heat.

"You want more?" His voice, low and husky, cut through the tension-filled air. His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, piercing through to your very core. There was amusement dancing in those glacial depths as he observed your flushed face and quickened breathing. He was clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, reveling in the way your body responded to his touch. Bucky was always super cheeky when it came to making you like this, he took great pride in turning your legs into Jell-O.

You weren’t able to form coherent words, your mind clouded thickly with desire. His mere presence was intoxicating, and the light caresses he had bestowed upon you were enough to reduce you to that quivering mess he was so eager to see. You were putty in his hands, desperate for more of his touch and he had barely begun.

Already, you were teetering on the edge of losing all self-control.

"Bucky, please, I can't handle this teasing anymore," you whimpered softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Your breath had become increasingly rapid and shallow as waves of adrenaline coursed through your body, setting every nerve ending alight with anticipation. The mere thought of his hand, that powerful, yet gentle hand, exploring your most sensitive and intimate areas made you feel increasingly wet.

Bucky's fingers found the hem of your top and he paused for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, silently asking for permission. At your almost imperceptible nod, he began to lift the fabric, revealing inch by tantalizing inch of your skin. The cool air of the room kissed your newly exposed flesh, adding to the sensory overload you were already experiencing. He pulled the garment completely over your head and carelessly tossed it aside, where it landed in a forgotten heap on the floor.

Now bare from the waist up, you felt a moment of vulnerability as Bucky's intense gaze roved over your exposed chest. His stormy blue eyes darkened with desire, drinking in every curve and contour of your body as if committing it to memory. The weight of his stare ignited a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you entirely.

Bucky's hands slowly and deliberately roam upwards, his fingertips tracing delicate patterns on your skin before finally reaching your breasts. He gently cups them in his large hands, beginning to massage and caress them with a tender yet passionate touch. Bucky's ministrations quickly begin to urge you on, your legs flexing together to create some kind of pressure between your legs.

The vibranium hand was still hot, it distributes those waves of heat through your body in a much gentler fashion than how you’ve seen in other circumstances. You’ve seen his arm break through concrete, crush otherwise impossible to damage objects, choke the life out of aliens. And here he was, treating your body like precious, tender treasure with the same limb.

You can feel your skin tingling …the dichotomy between his two hands - one warm flesh, one hot metal - adds an extra layer of sensory stimulation. A feather or an ice cube couldn't compare to how he made you feel.

The pure captivation in Bucky's eyes made the butterflies in your belly swarm even more, how he eyes your breasts makes you want to pull him in and push them against his face. His movements become more focused when he senses your desires, kneading and massaging with a rhythm reminiscent of a contented feline. The gentle yet insistent pressure of his fingers elicits a soft, involuntary moan from your lips.

Unable to resist the opportunity for a bit of playful teasing, you murmur breathlessly, "Mmm... you learned from Alpine?" The reference to his beloved white ragdoll brings a flicker of amusement to Bucky's intense gaze. He responds with a dramatic eye roll, clearly torn between exasperation at the interruption and appreciation for your attempt at humor.

"Shut up..." he growls softly, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. The playful admonishment is accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his hands, your eyes widened as you let out a gentle mewl.

He lets his lips ghost over yours, but he doesn't kiss you fully, no.

Bucky Barnes is the master of teasing.

He maintains his playful demeanor, reveling in the way you squirm and moan for him. That signature cocky smirk of his spreads across his lips as he watches you shuffle and attempt to press closer, seeking more contact. "Ah, ah... patience, doll. Stay still for me," he commands, his voice low and husky with desire.

"Bucky..." You drawl out his name, elongating the syllables into a desperate whine. Your body trembles with need, silently begging for more of his touch. You're acutely aware of his penchant for teasing, knowing all too well that he's unlikely to give in to your pleas so easily.

If anything, your desperation only seems to fuel his determination. Knowing Bucky as you do, he'll draw this out, savoring every moment of your mounting desire until your legs buckle beneath you.

His fingers begin to tease your sensitive buds, eliciting those exquisite sounds he so deeply adores from you. Those needy, desperate noises that eloquently convey how incredibly good he makes you feel, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. His skilled fingers pinch lightly, gently tugging and rolling, sending waves of pleasure through your body.

Your right breast is noticeably warmer and more flushed from the recent contact with the hot metal, though it didn't cause any discomfort or burning. The sight of your reddened, sensitive skin makes him groan softly under his breath, his desire for you growing rapidly.

"Ugh...look at you. You're drivin’ me crazy," Bucky whispered, his voice husky with desire. He nudged his knee between your legs, effectively pinning you in place. Your back pressed firmly against the cool counter, leaving you delightfully trapped between the unyielding surface and Bucky's warm, solid body.

"Please, don't tease me anymore..." You begged softly, your voice trembling with a mixture of anticipation and desperation. You didn't truly expect him to relent, but a small part of you hoped that he might show mercy. Your plea, however, only served to amuse him, eliciting a low, throaty chuckle that sent shivers down your spine.

His thumbs continued their torturous dance, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the very peaks of your sensitive buds. Each touch sent jolts of pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp and squirm. Your back arched involuntarily, pressing your chest further into his skilled hands, silently begging for more despite your earlier words.

You were already teetering on the edge, your composure crumbling with each passing second. You always liked to think you were more hardy against him but…damnit could he get you to break. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he had reduced you to this quivering mess, and he had barely begun. His touch had been confined to your breasts alone, yet you felt as though your entire body was on fire.

"I've got you...m'gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart..." His voice was low with a promise that made your heart race even faster. With a fluid motion, he grasped your hips and turned you around, pressing your back firmly against his broad chest. The heat of his body seeped through you, adding to the inferno building within you. His hands, those wonderful, torturous hands, began a slow, teasing journey down your body, leaving trails of tingling sensation in their wake.

Slowly, he pushed your underwear down, as the fabric inched its way to your mid-thighs, he paused, his eyes drinking in the sight before him. Sticky strands of your excitement formed delicate bridges between your core and the fabric. The underwear continued its descent, finally coming to rest just above your knees, leaving you exposed and trembling.

"God, look at you," he breathed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Just from me handlin' you a little, you got this wet for me?" Bucky whispered directly into your ear, his hot breath fanned across your skin, his scruff tickled your sensitive flesh as he spoke. The slight abrasion only served to heighten the ever-growing need you felt in your core.

He tilted his head closer to you, lips barely grazed your temple as he placed teasing kisses there. Suddenly, his knee moved, gently but firmly knocking against your legs. The silent command was clear, and you found yourself widening your stance, your body responding to his unspoken desires.

The tension that had been building within you reached a crescendo. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a whine - a needy, desperate sound. Your voice so thick with desire, managed to break through those desperate noises, "Bucky..." you pleaded, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. "Please," you repeated, your body trembling with the effort of restraining yourself. "I can't take it anymore..."

The scorching metal continued its relentless journey across your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. Your body quivered involuntarily as it inched closer to your most sensitive area. The heat radiating from your cunt rivaled that of his arm, but nothing could have prepared you for the jolt that surged through you the moment his fingers made contact with your intimate folds. The sensation was so intense that you barely managed to stifle a scream.

"Bucky!" His name escaped your lips in a breathless gasp as his skilled fingers found their target with unerring precision. They danced teasingly over your bundle of nerves, easily locating the center of your pleasure and lavishing it with gentle, circular motions. Each swirl of his fingertips sent waves of loud ecstasy coursing through your body. Your sensitive bud throbbed and pulsed under his expert touch, responding eagerly to every caress. The flood of need that washed over you was so potent that you could feel it trickling down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s fingers ventured lower, drawn to the source of your wetness and he probed your entrance. He held you still as he swiftly slid two fingers deep inside you. The sudden intrusion into your velvety depths caused your eyes to roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the sensation of his still very hot fingers inside you. You let your head fall heavily onto his shoulder, a loud, unrestrained moan escaped your lips as his fingers began a gentle yet insistent rhythm, pumping in and out of you with a practiced ease.

"That's it, sweetheart..." Bucky let out a deep, guttural grunt of pleasure as he listened to your soft whimpers and moans. His voice was thick with his own desire as he continued, "How's that feel, hm? My fingers exploring every inch of this needy little hole of yours. You were practically dripping before I even laid a hand on you, weren't you?" His skilled fingers deftly navigated your cunt, searching for that one spot that would drive you wild.

Suddenly, his fingers found that elusive sweet, spongy spot deep inside you and curled up against it. The sensation sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You couldn't help but let out a desperate, keening mewl as your hips instinctively bucked into his hand, seeking more of that friction. But your eager movements only resulted in Bucky withdrawing his fingers slightly, denying you the intense stimulation you craved.

"No, no, doll... stay still for me," he rasped into your ear, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive skin and sending shivers down your spine. "I know you can do that. Be good…" His voice was a horny mix of command and encouragement, leaving no room for argument.

His fingers resumed their steady movements after seconds of stillness, but now they purposefully avoided that sweet spot that had you seeing stars just moments ago. The deliberate teasing had you trembling with need, but you weren’t shocked by it. Bucky loved watching you like this, he wasn’t satisfied unless you were shaking and begging through your pretty tears. He had you caught between the desire to obey and the overwhelming urge to chase your pleasure.

The Wakandan metal radiated an intense, penetrating heat that seemed to seep into your very core, like having smoldering coals nestled within your body. It didn't burn, of course - the sensation was far more nuanced than that. Besides, if his steaming arm burned you, he wouldn’t ever put it on your skin.

It instead felt like an overwhelming surge of warmth, akin to the comforting embrace of a steaming bowl of soup on a cold winter's day. The heat consumed you, leaving you feeling inexplicably full and satiated. You tried, your fervent attempts to remain still were failing, the mounting pleasure proved increasingly difficult to resist. He was acutely aware of your struggle, reveling in the power he held over you.

Your body cruelly betrayed you as your hips instinctively jerked upward, responding to the touch of his fingers as they grazed your most sensitive spot deep inside your cavern. Bucky, surprisingly, permitted this small transgression…but he was far from ready to grant you the release you so desperately craved.

He continued to curl his fingers relentlessly, expertly manipulating your body until he could feel the telltale tightening of your inner walls around him. Your voice, thick with need and barely above a whisper, managed to form the words, "I-I'm close, Bucky I...-"

Just as your body tensed, poised on the very edge of ecstasy, Bucky abruptly withdrew his fingers, denying you the climax you had been building towards. The sudden loss of stimulation made you release a pained, desperate cry from your lips, a sound that reverberated with raw frustration and unfulfilled desire. You attempted to crane your neck, seeking to make eye contact with him, silently pleading for mercy.

He was so unfair.

"Not until I say, baby...you know that," he whispered against your ear, his fingers thoroughly coated in your essence. You caught sight of the glistening strands of your unmistakable arousal dripping from his hand. The sight made you blush deeply, a mix of shame and excitement coursing through you as you whined softly, your body instinctively squirming against his other arm that held you firmly in place.

"Please...I need to..." you started, your voice trembling with need, a shiver running through your body as you felt the sudden loss of his warm, skilled fingers against your sensitive flesh. The absence of his touch left you aching, yearning for more, trying to get closer to that hand just inches away from you.

Bucky let his hand return to your folds, deliberately spreading your arousal across the delicate skin. The slow, purposeful movement of his fingers sent more addicting pleasure through your body. He began to tease your precious clit once more, his expert touch reigniting the fire within you.

His fingers warmed the pink flesh to a deep, blushing red, each caress bringing you closer to the edge of ecstasy while still keeping you teetering on the brink of release. He did just enough for you to feel those shocks, but not enough to push you over.

You couldn't contain yourself, your passionate cries echoing through the room with such intensity that you were convinced your neighbors would surely lodge a complaint later. You didn’t really care, and neither did he. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding desperately against his hand as he expertly pleasured you.

His organic hand slowly traced its way down to your entrance, teasing and tantalizing with feather-light touches, then plunged deep inside you, curling over and over against your g-spot. His metal fingers continued their relentless assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves nestled between your slick folds, your clit at the mercy of his ministrations.

His voice was so deliciously deep and husky with arousal, it cut through the haze of your pleasure as he spoke to you. "You gonna finish for me, doll?" he growled, his own hips now moving in tandem with yours, the friction adding another layer to your mounting pleasure as you felt his hard cock grinding against your ass. "Hm? You gonna make a mess on my hands?"

The raw need in his tone, combined with the skillful ministrations of his hands, pushed you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel your climax rapidly approaching, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment.

You felt an overwhelming surge of sensation wash over you, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your mouth fell open, ready to cry out in ecstasy, but at first, only a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips. Every muscle in your body tensed, your inner walls clenching tightly around his skilled fingers.

His hand continued its relentless assault, moving in circles around your sensitive bud, alternating between gentle pinches and teasing tugs. Your vocalizations grew louder and more desperate when he pinched your clit, his gentle tugging made the blood rush straight to it, the sensitivity increasing.

The climax washed over you, your passionate cries for him echoing through the empty kitchen. His name tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, your voice raw with need. Tears of intense pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes and your legs gave way beneath you, unable to support your weight any longer. But he was there, strong and steady, holding you up as you shattered in his arms.

"That's it, baby," he murmured encouragingly, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Let go for me. Don't hold back. I want to see you make a mess, make a fuckin’ mess for me..." His words were a siren song, coaxing, commanding you deeper into the throes of ecstasy.

Bucky's touches never ceased, fingers working tirelessly to prolong your pleasure, pushing you higher and higher until you thought you might lose your mind. What felt like mere seconds stretched into an eternity of blissful agony, your body alight with sensation, trembling and arching against him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you.

Your vision blurred as tears pricked your eyes, cascading down your cheeks while you completely soaked his fingers. The intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. As waves of pleasure coursed through you, your mind went blank, consumed by the sheer ecstasy of the moment.

As your cries died down, your orgasm began to subside, having run its course through you. Your once rigid body slowly relaxed, muscles unwinding one by one, mirroring the gentling of his touches. He held you securely by your hips, his strong arm providing much-needed support to prevent you from collapsing. Even with the counter in front of you, you weren’t sure if you could even stand right now.

The aftermath left you in a state of blissful delirium. It felt utterly incredible, as if you were floating on cloud nine, your senses still reeling from the intense experience. You remained dazed, barely able to process the lingering sensations coursing through your body. Bucky slowly withdrew his fingers, the movement eliciting a soft gasp from your lips.

His touch became so tender and affectionate, traced a path along your skin as he placed gentle, reverent kisses on the back of your shoulder and the nape of your neck. The warmth of his breath caused goosebumps to rise all over your body as he murmured words of praise against your skin. "So good for me...so perfect, babydoll. You did so good for me," he whispered, his voice held soft adoration and satisfaction.

"I... I can't... feel my legs," you managed to say, your voice coming out in a raspy whisper as you struggled to catch your breath. Your chest heaved with each labored inhale, the exertion of your intense orgasm still evident in your flushed cheeks and trembling limbs.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck where his lips were pressed, sending a shiver down your spine despite your exhaustion. His gentle hands supported your weight, helping you regain your balance until you were able to stand somewhat steadily on your own, though your legs still felt like jelly beneath you.

"My bad, doll," he replied with a cheeky grin, that familiar smug smile spreading across his face as his eyes roamed over your disheveled form. There was a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he took in the sight of you, clearly pleased with the effect he had on you. His eyes lingered on the places where his metal hand had touched, tracing the patterns of blotches and handprints that now adorned your skin in various shades of red from the heat of the vibranium.

"S'pretty, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky. His eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made you feel both exposed and cherished. His gaze held vibrant, burning embers of lust that were still very much alive, but also a deep well of affection and love that made your heart skip a beat.

Bucky leaned close to you, his eyes softening as he gazed into yours. He caressed your cheek with his organic hand and gave you a tender, lingering kiss. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest. Your hands were still slightly trembling from your overwhelming release, but they found their way to his cheeks. Your thumbs traced delicate circles on his cheekbones, savoring the feel of his skin and scruff beneath your fingertips.

The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into his embrace. The world faded away until there was nothing but the two of you, you cherished the moments like this, when it was just you both enjoying a sweet moment together. No worries, no stress, no fear. When Bucky finally pulled away, that familiar cheeky grin spread across his face, lighting up his eyes with mischief and affection.

Your eyes narrowed in response, growing suspicious thinking about the many possibilities he could be up to. "I gotta wash my arm again," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, the plates of vibranium still coated thickly with your orgasm.

Your cheeks flushed and you groaned softly, rolling your eyes. "Put the pan on the stove this time," you replied, your voice equally soft but tinged with playful exasperation. "I am not hand washing that thing."

Thanks for reading - em🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[snoringkitty1]

Aventurine boyfriend Headcanons

TW: Fluff, not proofread, Mildly suggestive content. Enjoy <3

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡.•

Aventurine at the beginning of your relationship is a flirty bastard, he'll tease you to high hell and leave you high and dry for his own amusement.

There is 0 initial affection, he's only in it for his entertainment or because he has something to gamble or get from you.

Kisses you with his eyes open, atleast at the start.

But gradually, when you realizes you won't be leaving because of his lack of effort, he might just soften up and start to let his guard down a little.

Though of course this is after a while, but you'll start to see the more vulnerable and faint side to him.

He'll become more affectionate gradually the more he begins to trust you with his feelings, though, it still might take a while. Patience is key.

He's still flirty no doubt, but now there's actually feelings and meaning to his words, and they aren't bluffs anymore.

His sense of fashion may or may not rub off on you..aka he forces you to wear matching clothes, it makes him feel special.

"Do i really need to where this..? Matching outfits are so tacky." You grumbled and adjusted the hat on your head before sighing and taking it off, running your fingers along the rim and raising a brow. "Well, you don't need to, but i would love you more if you did." He joked and fixed a few details on your jacket before taking the hat from your hands and setting it on your head. "You don't love me enough already?" You pouted and looked up at him. He smiled and shook his head, pulling you close for a kiss, his hands holding tight onto your waist as he trapped you in a kiss. "I love you~" He cooed softly and leaned back, "Some matching clothes won't change that." he assured and rubbed your cheek before stepping back and putting his hands in his pockets, "now~ shall we?"

The king of shopping dates, if you don't like shopping though, then the two of you will probably be having at home dates most of the time.

But don't think for a second he isn't buying the most delectable (and expensive) food he can find, because to him, if its clothes, food, hair, nails, you name it. He thinks you're a worthy investment (he just likes to spend money on you.)

Speaking of giving presents, thats simply his love language, because i reckon he feels like if he gives enough, then he won't have to worry about you leaving him.

That being said, he'll need a bunch of reassurance to stop giving random super expensive presents. He'll still give you some regardless but he'll tone it down significantly.

He comes off as the kind of guy who only gives or takes longer kisses, to me atleast.

He might use this to his advantage if he perhaps gets jealous, which i think happens pretty often.

But i think there's also a chance of him just absolutely demolishing you once you two are home behind closed doors.

Switch energy, but can and will top when he feels like it.

He'll let you decide the pace though, he doesn't want intimate moments to feel transactional.

Afterwards, i Dunno i feel like he'd just fall asleep with you, then take of you the next morning.

You rolled away onto your stomach..or tried to, the tight grip of a certain blonde kept you from moving too far away. When you let out an uncomfortable grunt though, Aventurine was quick to let go and sit up to check on you. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, smiling a little before closing them again, "I'm fine, i'm fine.." you mumbled softly, but that didn't deter him. He leaned down and kissed your cheek before getting up, you opened your eyes and sat up on your elbows to watch him, he disappeared into the closet briefly and returned with one of his shirts. "Here you go Darling~" he cooed softly and held the shirt out from you, his messy bed head framed his face nicely. "ah..thank you-" you smiled and put it on before flopping back again. "Anything else i can get you? I can order food, or make bre-" He paused when you pulled him close all of a sudden. "Just cuddle with me for a little bit.." You muttered softly, and He nodded, pulling you close again..and like that, you two were cozy and asleep in minutes.

Thanks for reading.

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 4

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N comes to after being attacked and formerly meets the inner circle. Cassian and Y/N finally begin training, and he shows her around what he calls the heart of the Night Court.

Content Warning: Nightmares, flashbacks to under the mountain, Fluff

Word Count: 4.1

Chapter 3 Masterlist

A/N I want to take this moment to say thank you for all the love and support on this story! I am so grateful for you all! It honestly makes my day with every like and comment and reblog that I see! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we finally get some good Cassian X Reader quality time!

The Naga approached the sound of them slithering close causing me to whimper. One gripped my bound arms tightly from behind me, its dry tongue sliding up the column of my neck. The other gripped my breast tightly eliciting a shriek from the back of my throat. “A delicious treat, brother. Just for us.”

I begged for Rhysand to help, prayed he would make it in time. As the creature in front of me gripped my face puckering my lips as he pressed his to my own. I thrashed against them as hard as I could, but they were stronger than me.

Rhysand’s voice came clear as day but instead of sending help it was just my name.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

“Wake up, Y/N.” My eyes blinked open and violet eyes came into focus. Calloused hands grazed my damp cheeks, wiping away the tears. “It was just a Nightmare, Angel.” I sat up as he released my face and moved toward the edge of the bed. I looked behind him to find the chair Cassian was sitting in the night before empty and I tried to dampen my disappointment that he had left sometime after I had fallen asleep. Rhys looked to me, “Shields up, Y/N.” I jolted him and worked on building that wall around my mind as the High Lord continued, “I sent Cassian off this morning to run some errands for me. He put up a fight about before he left though.” He gave me a smile.

There was a comfort knowing that he stayed with me, but other thoughts whirled in my brain I sighed and rubbed my face, “Rhys, what happens now? Also where are we?”

“You’re in my townhome, this is where I reside normally. You were staying in what we call the House of Wind.” Rhys’ smile fades, “As for what happens next, there are two options we can take due to the fact you’re still human. The first, would be that we can send you back to the human lands and you would be able to be with your sisters.” I bit my lip as he prattled on, “Or option two, you become a member of the Night Court as my human emissary.” He grips my hand, “In my opinion, not that you asked for it, I would hope you would like to pick option 2. I would pay you well and you would be able to see Feyre every month. Not to mention, I like having you around.” I gave him a small smile and his eyes held unspoken emotion. “You remind me of someone I knew long ago, she would have loved you.” A tear slid down his perfect cheek.

I squeeze his hand, and with my free on wipe the tear from his cheek, “She must have been really special, if just mentioning her has this reaction. One day when you’re ready I would love to hear more about her.” I pause, “Especially all the reasonings as to why she would love me.” He laughed a boisterous laugh, and I was happy to take his sadness away.

When he stopped, he asked, “One day huh? Does that mean you would like to stay?”

“Yes, I would like to stay.” My stomach rumbled.

“We can discuss logistics and details on your position after we have gotten food in your stomach.” He rose. “There are clothes in the closet, Mor has already claimed you for the afternoon to go shopping.”

I quirked a brow, “So you knew I would say I wanted to stay?”

“No.” He opened the door and gave a playful smirked, “I was, however, hopeful that you would want to. Get dressed and come down to the stairs I’ll introduce you to everyone, formally.” With that he closed the door. I took a moment to look out at the window and gasped at the beauty of the city I am staring at. The sunrise coated the city in various shades of pink and orange the sun glimmering on the river as soft waves flowed down stream.

I got out of bed and discarded the nightgown I was gifted and put on the Teal sundress that had sheer sleeves and flowed down to my knees. I placed my hair up in a simple bun and walked down the stairs. Laughter erupted and I followed the sound I found a dining room that has almost every seat filled all for one that was in between Mor and Azriel. There was a short female with short black hair and mesmerizing silver eyes that rolled her eyes at the laughter and her eyes met mine. “Well, well, well, appears someone is awake.”

The laughter dies down, and all eyes turn on me and I rub the back of my neck, “Hi.” I whispered. Mor shot up and ran over to where I was and almost tackled as she wrapped me in a bone crushing hug.

“I’m so happy you’re staying with us.”  Mor squeezed causing a squeak to come out of me.

“Mor, let her go you’re going to crush her.” The low timbre of Cassian caused me to meet his gaze and he gave me a smile and a playful wink as Mor released me mumbling the word asshole under her breath. She led me to the seat next to her and I gave Azriel a smile, he simply nodded his head.

“Okay as promised, formal introductions. You know Mor, obviously,” He points to Azriel, “This is Azriel, the Night Court’s Spymaster and our very own shadowsinger,” I looked to Azriel whose shadows swirled around him as if a part of him and he puffed his chest slightly a sense of pride of his High Lord’s words. “The tiny angry looking one over there is my Second in command, Amren.” She doesn’t look phased by how she’s introduced and raises her goblet to me and takes a sip. “Last but certainly not least, the General of the Night Courts armies, Cassian. Though I believe you two have been acquainted.” My head snaps at Rhys’ who gave us both a shit eating grin.

“Sorry, Princess, I may have told them about that night we met.” My eyes met the General’s hazel ones his face had a flush on them as he smiled.

I grabbed a croissant from the platter in front of me and took a bite, and gave him a smile, “That’s alright, General.” I took another bite as two puzzle pieces clicked together and I ask, “Are you still willing to train me?” I avert my gaze and pick at the pastry.

“Any reason why I wouldn’t want to?” He asked, the table has fallen to an uncomfortable silence awaiting my answer.

Flashes of last night whirl through my head, of how I couldn’t even push the Naga away from me. Before I’m able to catch it, a tear falls then another, and sobs unleash until I can’t stop them. I cover my face and let it wrack out of my system. I feel Mor’s hand rubbing my back and can feel a talon on my mental shields of Rhys trying to get me to let him in. Then there is the scraping of the chair, sound of large boots. Mor’s touch vanishes as my chair is gently pulled back. Large hands grip my wrist and give them a light tug as the sobs continue, as I meet Cassian’s face, there was no judgement or pity, if anything there was an underlying rage there. He grips my hands tightly as if to remind me that I’m safe and that nothing would harm me. I look at the table and everyone gazes hold the same sentiment.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Cassian softly ordered, I face him once more and his thumb is rubbing soothing circles and my heartrate spikes. “I promise, I will make sure that you will never feel powerless again. You were ambushed last night; you were wounded and left out to fend for yourself, no one here thinks that you are weak because of it.” He wiped the tears from my face. “Would you like to start today?”

I nodded my head, and he gave me a beautiful grin, “Wonderful, we can get you some training gear and you can meet me outside after we eat. Okay?” I nod again, and he squeezes my hands before letting them go and instantly missed the warmth they provided.  As he stands pushes a free strand of hair from face and tucks it behind my ear, “You know what happened last night wasn’t your fault right?”

I bit my lip, “Maybe if I wasn’t so confrontational with Tamlin.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Girl,” Amren spoke for the first time since I entered the room, and everyone stilled. I met her gaze it was as if her irises were swirling with silver liquid, “Tamlin, is a coward and fool. He feeds off feeling superior over the weak.” Her red lips formed a smirk, “You weren’t willing to bend to him and challenged him. He simply used the one thing he had on you. The simple fact that your human. Make no mistake that Tamlin is the worm here.”

I tilted my head at her, and let her words really sink in and I blurted out, “You’re Stunning.” Heat immediately racing up my cheeks. Amren’s eyes widened a fraction as the table filled with laughter at the immediate shift in mood.

Amren smiled and tipped her head to me, “Likewise, girl, I think you’ll fit right in.”

Breakfast went on, and Rhys shared what my duties at Emissary would be, and he provided me with some fighting leathers that hugged every curve of my body. I made my way outside to find that Cassian was stretching, in his usual leathers with those gems on across his body. With the mid-day sun, he looked like one of the old gods long forgotten. He was beautiful, and the way he moved as he practiced made him lethal. His wings twitched, and his spine went rigid. He turned in my direction, “Right on time.”

I walked toward him, feeling disoriented by the heavy boots Rhys had given me. “What are these gemstones? If you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled and I decided that I would never get tired of him smiling, his whole face lit up when he did the gesture showing genuine happiness there. “They’re called siphons they harness my power to make it easier to control. They are earned during this thing called the Blood Rite, an Illyrian tradition but I won’t bore you with the details about why we do it, or their backwards beliefs of them. Not today anyway.”

“Well, another time, I’ve never heard about Illyrians before. They are not talked about much in the history of the fae we’re taught back in the human lands.” I walk past him to where he was practicing, “I’m also a sucker for a good story.”

“Well, when I can steal you for more than an hour. You can ask me all the questions you would like.”

I crossed my arms, “Why would you have to steal me?”

Cassian quirked a brow, “You have met Mor, correct? She has not shut up about wanting to spend time with you.”

“Hmm. Well, I will need someone to show me around. Where are we exactly? As I know this is Rhys’ town home, but I’ve never seen a city as beautiful as this. Well, I’ve never really ventured far from our small cottage anyway.”

Cassian made a few strides toward me, “We’re in Velaris, the city of Starlight. I personally think it’s the heart of the Night Court.”

“I can’t wait to explore.” I was acutely aware of how close Cassian had gotten, leather and sandalwood infiltrating my nose. “So will you show me around?”

“Sure. Though you’ll break Mor’s heart.” Cassian joked and caused me to smile, “Alright, Archeron,” I turned to him and gone was the playful face is gone. Replaced with the serious gaze of a General. “Let’s get started.”

Cassian had me show him what Rhys had been teaching me and showed me some more stretches before he asked me how I would punch someone. I clenched my fist and Cassian immediately shook his head. “No, Princess, you hit someone like that you’re going to hurt yourself more than your opponent.” He came up and grabbed my hand. He opened my hand he began folding my hand where the tip of my fingers was tightly placed in the base of my palm. He then places my thumb over my index finger. “There, this will protect your fingers and give you the best chance of hurting someone instead of yourself.” He walks behind me and raises both fists and nudges my legs with his own to get me in the perfect stance my heart was racing at the mere touch and proximity of him. “Tomorrow we’ll go over exactly the best stance to throw a punch and keep your balance but standing like this,” He whispered in my ear and chills ran down my warm body. He moves my arm in a punching motion, his other hand on my waist twisting to move with the punch. He does it a few more times and after the fifth time he releases his grip and has me do those movements on my own. I could feel his eyes on me as I kept repeating the motion until he held up his hand. “Very good. I think we’ll call it for the day.”

I nodded and he walked over to hand me some water. “Thanks.” I sipped the water, and he drank some from his own cup. He grabbed my cup and placed it down with his. He pointed to the floor, “On your back, Princess.”

My face heated and I’m sure my cheeks were pink, “Why?”

Cassian smirked, “I’m going to help you stretch, its important to stretch the muscles so you’re not sore tomorrow.” He crossed his arms, “What were you thinking about?”

I huffed and followed his order to lay on my back. “I was thinking about nothing, grow up.”

Cassian knelt his hand rubbing my calf with a smirk, “I’m quite grown up, thank you. I’m over 500 years old.” My eyes widened at the fact as he bent my knee and pushed my leg toward my chest, the muscles stretched, and I bit my lip to suppress a moan.

“That feels divine.” I whisper and I hear a low chuckle as the General moved to the other leg. He met my eyes as he pushed back my leg, and I could not hold the moan this time. I covered my mouth as he placed my leg down and massaged my calves. “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian looked like he wasn’t breathing his eyes holding something like yearning there but shook his head and waved me off, “Don’t worry about it, Princess. It’s a natural reaction,” He pat my legs and rise to his feet. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it he lifts me up with ease and releases my hand. “Good job today, we’ll pick up tomorrow.”

Rhys walked outside and tucked his hands in his pockets, “Mor, sadly had to go do her job and has left for a few days. So, your shopping spree has been put on hold.” Rhys shrugged, “I could take you around, and give you a tour of the city if you would like.”

I looked to Cassian, “If you don’t mind Rhys, could your General take me?” Cassian smiled and draped an arm around my shoulders. “If you don’t mind, Cass.”

“I don’t mind,” Cassian looked at Rhys, “Do you mind if I steal her?”

Rhys smirked, “Not at all. Have fun you two.”

The two of us parted ways to bathe and change. A midnight blue top and matching pants were prepped for me as I came out of the bath, and I placed it the top on used to the slight mid drift. I placed my hair fall in its natural curls and placed it on moon pin in my hair and slipped on a pair of silver slip on shoes. I walked down to the front door to find Cassian, wearing a casual shirt with a leather jacket and pants. His wings were relaxed and tucked close behind him and his hair was in a half up bun.

He looked up as he heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, “Well you clean up nicely,” I teased elbowing him. He smiled and rolled his eyes at me.

 Cassian’s eyes lingered on my outfit and back up to my eyes. “I could say the same about you, Princess.” He opened the door, and the late afternoon breeze tickled my skin, “Ready to go?”

I nod, and he lays a hand on my back and guides me out of the front door. Once he shut the door behind me, we were off. Cassian and I walked the busy streets of Velaris. We went into various shops looking at clothes and different works of art. I stopped when we were at a vendor selling various paintings. My heart sank, Feyre had not painted in months, and I doubt after yesterday she’ll ever want to. I would do anything if it meant that she would want to paint again. If I ever see her. Calloused hands grazed my neck and brought me out of my thoughts, “Where’d you go?”

“I want Feyre to paint again,” I whispered, “She loved to paint after we came out of Under the mountain she just wouldn’t. Now with last night will I be the reason she never paints again?” I cross my arms and I walk past the paintings, “I don’t know if I could live with myself if that were the reason.”

Cassian gripped my elbow, “Y/N, Feyre has her own healing journey to take, her reasons, for doing or not doing something are her own, you don’t need to shoulder responsibility for someone else’s grief.”

I give him a small smile and give his hand a pat, “Thanks Cas, but my job was always to protect her, and I took pride in securing that small ounce of peace she would get when painting. I would sneak money just to make sure she had enough paint.” I kept walking Cassian meeting my stride his wing flared and wrapped slightly around me almost protectively. “I was like that for Nesta and Elain I always made sure anything they wanted books for Nesta or plants for Elaine, tensions were high a majority of the time, I just tried to keep the peace and made sure everyone was happy and safe.”

Cassian was quiet as we approached a bookstore, and I gripped his arm with an excited squeal, “Can we go in here?” Cassian nodded and opened the door for me, and the smell of books and a thin layer of dust fills my nose and i couldn't contain my smile. I walk up and down the aisle, looking at all the stories. Cassian was a silent yet steady presence behind me. There was a portion of the store that had various leather-bound notebooks.”  

“What about you?” I turned to Cassian my brows furrowed. “Feyre has painting, Nesta reading, and Elain had gardening. What did you like to do?”

I bit my lip and shrugged, “Protecting my sisters I guess.” I grazed the top on a journal, “I never really had the time to do anything, if I wasn’t chopping wood, or helping Feyre hunt, or trying to make money. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”

Cassian frowned and guilt washed over me for taking his smile away, “If you did have the time what would you have liked to do.”

I lifted a Journal and flipped through the blank pages, “Don’t laugh.” I looked at him, “I would have loved to write. Even if I didn’t know how to write, I would have loved to tell stories. The kind of heroes and villains and romance things that Nesta would read to me when I was small.” I placed the journal down and shrugged. “Just a silly little dream.” I give him a smile one to hide the lingering sadness. “Enough about that, I’m hungry.” Cassian’s frown deepened clearly seeing my deflection.

“I’ll be out in a minute. Rhys ironically enough wanted me to see if they had a book in stock. “ I nodded my head and walked out of the store. I looked out at the river and quickly walked over and leaned against the railing to stare out at the sea. The sun is beginning to set and enjoy the scenery around me. Soft waves crashed amongst the bridge, and the scent of the water spray filled the air. It was peaceful and serene.

I was entranced by its beauty that I didn’t even hear Cassian approach, his hand on back caused me to jump and turn. “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”  He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for being a little jumpy. Did they have the book you needed?” I asked as he offered his arm for me to take, leading us to a little restaurant in an area he called earlier the rainbow.

Cassian shook his head, “No but I did find something else that piqued my interest.” He grabbed out of his pocket the leather-bound journal I was holding in the store and handed it to me, it felt as though the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

“Cassian-“

He interrupted me, “You may find that you have more free time here, you have worked hard to make sure your sisters were able to keep their hobbies. You should be able to explore something that interests you.” He gave you a smile “Plus I know there is one person for sure who would love to read whatever stories you come up with.”

I stopped, tears pooling in my eyes, “Cassian, I can’t repay you for this.”

Cassian also stopped, his hazel eyes warm and shining bright, “It’s a gift, Princess. Nothing to be repaid.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Cass.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around me. “You’re welcome, now let’s go get something to eat.” He pulled away and looped my arm with his once more and led us to dinner. At dinner he shared some stories of how he and Rhys met and how they met Azriel how they have been friends for centuries and in turn I told him of all the trouble Feyre and I used to get in before we lost our fortune and when it was over we fell into comfortable silence on the walk home.

Music played on the bridge, and it caused me to pause in my tracks. I gripped Cassian’s arms as my mind went back to late nights under the mountain.

Feyre had fallen asleep after sobbing, and I was still in the corner tears stained my face. The feeling of hopelessness taking over. I wish I had told Nesta and Elain how much I loved them before we left. I tucked my head into my knees and sobbed. Beautiful melody flooded my eardrums, something that held hope and happiness. Images flashed against in my mind of a beautiful orchestra on a bridge over river. The night sky was breathtaking as if they were swirling and dancing to the melody of the music. My eyes grew heavy as the melody hit the crescendo. I laid my head back and let the music sweep me into a peaceful slumber.

My breathing was labored, “Hey, hey, hey,” Cassian’s hand cupped my cheek, “what is it?”

“Rhys...he played this music in my head to help me sleep Under the Mountain.” Tears were streaming down my face clutching the journal Cassian bought me, “He was letting me know I wasn’t alone when I was convinced Feyre, and I weren’t coming out alive. He was showing me this band a piece of his home.”

Cassian eyes gleamed silver as well, “He’s annoyingly a good friend like that.” He looked over at the band as I chuckled, “Would you like to stay and listen for a little bit?”

“Please.” I whispered and he lowered his hand from cheek, but I reached out and laced my fingers with his. He tucked his wing around me to block the wind as we stood and listened to the music that kept me from breaking under the mountain.

Chapter 5

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen

[causenessus]

love notes

part 0.6. ROWDY TEENAGERS

"the pavement moves so quickly, flying high. i'll be there soon. i'll be next to you."

from new song by lowertown, left in sakai, osaka

CONTENT WARNINGS: one use of the phrase "attention whore" in a joke, one "what if i kms" type joke, mentions of hyperventilating/a panic attack, mommy/family issues, lots of comfort <3 we love found family!! but also if you don't feel comfortable reading it, that's ok!! it's not incredibly important to the plot, and i would recommend skipping everything after the tweets after the written part of this chapter :)

when the door chimes open and she hears two sets of laughter and the rain pouring outside before it quickly closes shut again, she’s quick to peek her head out. it’s eleven at night and there’s an hour until closing, which oftentimes meant her only customers were rowdy teenagers stumbling into the only place left open for a quick bite.

she smiles at the sight of the two pushing each other, trying to get the last laugh. they definitely act and look like rowdy teenagers, but they’re her rowdy teenagers. they’re breathing hard and water is dripping from their clothes like they’ve been running through the rain for hours. she grins as they take off their coats, hanging them on a nearby rack before sitting down at the counter. “you guys are sopping wet, what've you been up to?” she asks, tone light and teasing.

they share a look that only spells trouble before they burst out laughing again. “atsumu got the police called on us,” suna answers once they've calmed down while she places mugs in front of both of them.

osamu comes around the corner at the same time, drying his hands with a towel and a raised brow, “what did i just hear you say?”

a smile ghosts her own lips, the energy of the two boys in front of her rubbing off on her as she pours them tea. “thanks,” she hears suna whisper with a smile towards her before he joins atsumu in recounting their story to osamu.

“seriously? and you decided to come here? if someone comes in looking for either of you, i’m not hiding you guys,” osamu shakes his head in disappointment at the retelling. despite his words, they all know he’d cover for them if needed and they all laugh again before atsumu sneezes.

“do you guys want towels to dry off? one of you are bound to catch a cold,” she chides pushing off the counter when they both nod their heads eagerly.

she comes back and osamu is still scolding the two boys for something. she passes by him to hand a towel to atsumu first, who gives her a wink in thanks. and when suna’s hand brushes past her’s as he takes the towel, she has to hold in a breath to keep herself from reacting. her heart tightens as if she's overwhelmed, looking at him in the moment. his normally combed-out hair is damp and slightly flattened down, and the mischievous glint in his eyes is something that’s only increased throughout the years. 

perhaps it had come with the way they’d grown closer together, but she felt like she could read his emotions better, now. she could see the way adrenaline was still flowing through his veins, the way his pupils had dilated and the wide grin across his face. it was an urge deep inside of her that made her want to just come around the corner and dry his hair herself, to tell him she’s loved him since the first time she saw them. 

but instead, she only interrupts the boys’ conversations to ask if they were going to order anything, already knowing the answer. and with how frequently they came, she could already predict their orders. she disappears behind the counter into the kitchen leaving the boys to talk before she comes back out, carrying a plate and bowl.

in her absence, osamu has brought over two stools for them to sit on behind the counter. he’s sitting across from atsumu, resting the side of his cheek against his fist while he listens to his brother talk. she places the tonkatsu ramen in front of atsumu and the curry in front of suna before taking her own seat, absentmindedly picking at her fingers as she listens to the blond. she doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she feels a tap on her hand and turns back to the boy in front of her.

“you’re shaking,” he points out and she examines her own hands, watching the way they tremble.

“oh,” she says, dumbfounded, “that’s weird. i don’t know why they’re doing that.”

“i saw your twitter,” suna mentions. “something about a hike, right? and you’re working on top of that. have you eaten?”

the question surprises her, as she has to wrack her brain to even try and remember her own day, and when she last ate something. “i don’t think i’ve eaten something since this morning…”

suna raises a brow, checking his phone, “it’s almost 11:30 now.”

“yeah,” she presses her lips into a thin line at the realization. “i should probably make something for myself.” she moves to stand up before a hand on her shoulder keeps her where she is.

“stay here,” when she looks up at osamu in surprise, he only smiles, “i’ll make you something.”

she lets out a sigh of relief, “thank you, ‘samu, you’re the best.”

when he walks away, it goes silent for a moment before atsumu speaks up, shoving food into his mouth. “how come you went on a hike again?” he asks.

“i have a photography exhibit coming up soon,” she explains, playing with her apron to keep herself from picking at her skin. “it’s an assignment for one of my classes with akaashi and kenma, so we all decided to hike up a mountain to take some pictures for what we’re doing.”

“did they turn out good?” suna asks, and she tries not to fall apart under his gaze. she doesn’t want to ramble on too much about her own work, but he’s looking at her as if he’s genuinely interested in what she’s talking about, and it makes her feel a little better.

“yeah,” she says with a small smile towards him. “i posted some pictures of the flower field on my twitter, but i’m not using any of those. i have a specific theme i’m going for and we set a swing on fire for it. that one turned out pretty cool, and i actually got another picture i’m planning to use, too, but i think i’ll leave that one untitled.”

“fire?” he echoes with a perplexed look on his face.

she laughs, “we had a fire extinguisher handy and i think we had permission to do it…i kind of left that up to kenma. but i’ll show it to you later. i'm gonna mess around with the saturation before i dodge and burn it.”

he nods, “does that mean you're go back to the darkroom again? can i join you?”

she can’t help the way her lips curve into a bigger smile at the question, “yeah, i’ll be in there again but in case you come to my exhibit, i want the photos to be a surprise. do you think you'll come?”

he doesn't have the chance to respond before a plate is placed in front of her and her face lights up. it’s the same kind of curry as suna’s, and it’s one of her favorites. “thank you, osamu!” she looks up at him and he only chuckles.

“don’t mention it. it's the least i can do for my favorite employee,” he says, sitting back down while she turns back to her plate in time to see suna stealing a bite from it.

“hey! you have your own. it's the same thing,” she scolds, fighting off his spoon with her own.

he hums in response with a small smile on his face, “no, yours is better.”

she takes a bite of her own curry as she responds, “well duh, osamu’s the professional here.”

“no, i mean the one you made for me is better,” he clarifies and she freezes, her face immediately warming.

“wow. i’m right here, suna,” osamu scoffs, but shrugs playfully when she sends him an apologetic look.

“well i have credibility as a fellow chef, and i think your curry is the best i’ve ever had, ‘samu,” she defends.

“oh please, you don’t have to appease me. everyone has their own opinion, that’s just the way food is,” osamu responds, but gives her a smile in thanks for the compliment.

“you probably just think his food is good because he makes it with love,” atsumu chimes in, looking towards her while still eating his ramen, “but for me, he probably spits in my food. i like your food too, y/n. ‘cause you actually care about me and give me discounts.”

she rolls her eyes at his words before suna draws her attention back to him, “when’s your exhibit?”

“it’s exactly a week from now,” she sighs, rubbing her eyes. even the reminder of the event makes her feel exhausted, thinking about all the work she has to do between now and then. “honestly, it’s a problem. i don’t even have all my shots yet. i still need to find somewhere that i can set up the last one,” she explains further before stopping, “sorry, you didn’t ask about that.”

“that’s okay,” he reassures her, “i like hearing about the process. and i’ll be there—at your exhibit. just make sure you take care of yourself. you won’t be able to do it if you’re on the verge of passing out.” she’s sure her cheeks have flushed red at his words again, and she can only nod silently while he checks his phone, “‘tsumu, you ready to go? they’re gonna close soon, we shouldn’t hold them up.”

atsumu looks over from his conversation with osamu, blinking for a moment as he processes the question before he responds, “oh, yeah. i’m good.”

she stands up, meeting them by the register while osamu takes their trays away. she rings up atsumu first, who slips her a few notes with another wink that makes her roll her eyes. as suna is paying for his order, atsumu looks over his shoulder and gasps, “how come suna gets a bigger discount than me?”

she shrugs at his exclaim, “company policy.”

osamu comes up from behind her, following up, “i have a dedicated discount for you, ‘tsumu. you get 25% off.”

suna looks at his total, trying to do the math before he asks, “how much of a discount are you giving me?”

she turns red as osamu looks at the register screen and whistles, “damn, 75% off.”

the smile suna gives her only makes her more embarrassed and she’s quick to rip his receipt from the machine and give it to him, “see you later, rin.”

she slaps a hand over her mouth immediately as it slips out and he’s looking at her in surprise, “i’m so sorry, it just came out– i was looking at the receipt–”

“no, it’s fine. really. i don’t mind,” he cuts her off, taking the receipt and leaving a tip in her hand as well before the door chimes, signaling the exit of their last customers.

she’s left standing there with osamu at her side, her hand still reached out, the yen sitting in her open palm as she tries to process what just happened. she turns to osamu once she pulls herself together, “sorry, i can pay for suna’s food if that was too much of a discount, i promise i only do it for him.”

he laughs, shaking his head. “no, don’t worry about it. i know that’s what you always give him. akaashi eats here for free because we like him so much, so i really can’t fault you. i even put up with talking to my brother so that you guys could have a conversation. just make sure this all goes somewhere,” he pokes her forehead playfully, breaking her out of her trance as he walks past her. “now, let’s get out of here soon. do you wanna close back or front?”

she finally lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in and feels the weight lift from her shoulder, “i'll close front!"

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

SORRY FOR ANOTHER LONG CHAPTER </3 i didn't want to split it into two parts and drag it on

y/n and suna teamed up on atsumu to bully him back after his initial tweet which y/n didn't think much of. she just thought atsumu was being annoying again

hmmmmmmm i wonder who owns a convenience store and would get FLY spray painted onto it

UKAI APPEARANCE IN LOVE NOTES!!! DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT LOCATIONS in this smau he's retired and he owns a convenience store in osaka now and it has a little garage door with "fly" painted onto it now <3

while y/n and suna were off in their own world talking <3 atsumu talked to osamu instead bc my boy likes to yap and needs someone listening at all times

and osamu put up with it for y/n <3

osamu and y/n also have a very close sibling bond if that wasn't obvious

i stole akaashi's "bye cruel world" post from pinterest. i wish i was that funny. but nothing bad happened to him, he was just stressed out and wanted to pass out

y/n was NOT supposed to have a panic attack but then i almost did writing this so it happened

"mei" is short for "meimei" which is chinese for little sister but it's a term my family uses because i'm the youngest daughter so i put it in here bc i was influenced by how cool @cr4yolaas' use of filipino culture in their smau mezzo forte is!!! (shameless plug <3)

also a really silly thing but i colorcode my phone contacts into people i don't like (yellow) and people i do like (brown) through their pfps (like everyone has a brown or yellow pfp, or an animal/their face if i really like them) so i just did the same thing here but made blue the pfp picture of anyone y/n doesn't like lol

y/n has met kuroo before from when he visited kenma previously and they hit it off super well so they're always asking kenma how the other is doing

to which he always replies "why can't you guys just ask each other? 😐"

their response?

"bc it's more fun to ask you!!! ❤"

taglist: @0moonii @iluvmang @bluebeanbee @wyrcan @oyasumeii @froyaoya @gyuijns @nbcvs @milkteade @eggyrocks @guitarstringed-scars @makkir0ll @mylahrins @cherrypieyourface @vivian-555 @sharkerino @r0seandth0rns @staileykout @lunavixia @thvvluvr @elliott0o0 @wolffmaiden @rockleeisbaeeee @toges-cough-syrup @cnnmairoll @ryeyeyer @hibernatinghamster @localgaytrainwreck @lemonocity @bows4life @sereniteav @madiexuberant @eclecticeggknightpsychic @phoenix-eclipses @sonicsolos @httpakkeiji @brkfclub @snail-squasher @starry-magicshop @kitnootkat @zzzlevislothzzz @iluv-ace @iluvaquaphor @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @applepi25 @twiishaa @girlkissersco @sleepystrwbrryy @encrypta

[beastofburdenxo]

Hypothermia

Emmett shares a bed with you on a particularly cold night. 1.6k words Tags: dry humping, wet dreams, reader is a virgin.

Emmett promised your parents that he would take care of you if anything happened to them. Not realizing that, not long after he promised them that the creatures would come. Sadly, neither survived and you were stuck with Emmett. Nothing against him of course, he was an alright guy. He was a family friend; someone you saw all the time at the house on the weekends. He was quiet, reserved, resourceful. Emmett also lost his family not long after yours so you two were all each other had. You two toughed it out together, he taught you how to hunt. He taught you which plants were edible, and which were not. You taught him how to patch up his clothes when needed. The both of you were a team, working together to stay alive.  

Instead of moving out and going to college, you moved what little belongings you could to an old factory on the outskirts of town with Emmett. He found it on a supply run without you and thought it best to move away and stay hidden from the creatures. Besides, there wasn’t much left to salvage anyways, what you two haven’t already scavenged to use was in disrepair and too time consuming to try and fix. Emmett was a bit of a loner anyways, so moving away from the few remaining living souls didn’t bother him a bit. Not you though, you didn’t like the idea of leaving the only home you ever knew. But you went ahead and did anyways, because you knew you couldn’t make it without him. You two made the basement of the old factory your home, considering it was almost soundproof. Emmett brought down a mattress he found in an empty house to sleep on, not realizing it was going to be a tight fit for both of you. During the summer, he refused the makeshift bed, insisting you take it. He crafted a pallet out of old covers and towels that he slept on next to yours.  

One particularly cold winter night, you lie in bed, feeling your fingers and toes start to turn blue. Every piece of clothing you own is on your body on top of what little covers you have, but it’s still not enough. With teeth chattering, you look over at Emmett’s still figure wondering if he’s about to go into hypothermia as well. “Emmett,” you whisper in the dark, “Are you sleeping? It's so cold in here my body hurts.” Emmett turns towards you, “No, I can’t sleep either. It's an awfully bad night tonight. Would you like some of my covers?” A shiver runs through your body as you try to still your chattering teeth. “I don’t think that’s going to cut it here Emmett, we both need body heat or we’re not going to survive the night. Will you come closer?” A long pause sits in the air before you get an answer. “Are you asking me to get in bed with you? You trying to cuddle?” he asks with a chuckle. “This is serious, if you don’t get over here, we’re both going to freeze to death. It's not like I have anyone else to choose from. I'll behave, I’m just trying to not die tonight.”  

You feel a bit more weight on you as Emmett takes the covers off his pallet and throws it on yours. Before you can plead with him, he lies down beside you. “Alright, here I am, now go to sleep.” It is a tight fit with him beside you, both being on your backs, so you turn to the side away from him to make room. The heat radiating off Emmett’s body helps, but it’s not enough to knock the chill off your body. You try and scoot closer to him, much to his dismay. “Just what do you think you're doing? You wanted me here, so here I am. What more do you want?” You start to feel him move away. “No please don’t go.” you whine, “I’m just so cold and I know you are too. Please come here. Wrap your arm around me Emmett.” With a sigh he replies, “Only because it feels below zero tonight. Don't get any ideas here.” He pulls you closer to him, his body heat enveloping you. He has both of his strong arms around your waist as the two of you stop shivering. “Now was that so bad?” you ask. You get a scoff in response. You feel him move around. “What are you doing? I can’t sleep with you thrashing!”  

“I’m taking my shirt off.” Your eyes get big at his words. “Why in the hell are you doing that?” Emmett sighs, “Did I teach you anything? Survival 101, skin on skin contact is the best against hypothermia. It's dark and neither of us can see the other, so just do it.” With a gulp you shakily remove your shirt, goosebumps hitting your skin at the thought of being next to him in your bra. This is all new to you and you’re trying to remain calm and adult like about it. “My pants too?” you nervously ask. Emmett’s strong arms go back to being around you. “That’s up to you. Considering the layers are thin, I think we’ll be fine like this. Now let's get some sleep.” He was right about the skin-on-skin contact, it was almost too warm now. You were able to feel his broad chest directly on your back, his light coating of chest hair tickling your skin. Part of you wanted to turn around and face him, but you didn’t want him to leave either, so you stayed where you were. Your little heart was pounding, you’ve never had a man be this physically close to you, much less Emmett. You hoped he was too far gone in sleep to notice. “Just breathe, you know Emmett, he wouldn’t hurt you.” you tell yourself over and over until your breathing finally slows and sleep takes you in its hold.  

In the middle of the night, you awaken to Emmett still holding you to him. But this time, something is different. One arm is still around you, the other is next to you, his hand squeezing your hip. Something is also digging into your back. You move slightly trying to get comfortable, and Emmett softly moans. You realize what it is, Emmett is hard in his sleep. Trying not to panic and wake him up, you wonder what to do now. If he wakes, he’ll freak out at the situation and possibly get mad, so you just lie there for a bit. “It’s not like he did it on purpose, he’s dead asleep!” you think to yourself, “He has no control over his body, it’ll go away, just chill out!” at that moment, Emmett slightly moves, pulling you even closer to him, his dick even more prominent to you now. The hand on your hip now slowly strokes your side. His breath is still slow and labored, he’s still out cold. Emmett slowly starts to grind against you, the friction pulling down your loose pants, exposing your ass to him. His face is buried in your shoulder, panting heavy at his motions. You try to reach behind you to pull your pants back up, but there’s no room between you two, and you wind up touching his toned stomach instead. You freeze as a whine leaves his mouth, thinking you woke him up.  

Luckily for you, he’s a heavy sleeper and he goes back to dry humping you as you take your hand back. You must admit, it doesn’t feel terrible. “Do I just lie here and let him grind on me?” You like hearing his moans too, but you’d never admit that. You wish you could see the look on his face right now, but not daring to turn. His hand comes up and cups your breast through your bra, softly squeezing. “Yes,” he breathes into your ear, “Yes baby like that.” You close your eyes and pretend that he means that, that he knows it’s you and he really wants you; not pretending that you’re someone else. You softly place your hand on top of Emmett’s, not brave enough to do much else. “Babygirl, yes, right there, please.” That causes a moan to come out of your own mouth. Goosebumps return to your skin, but for another reason. Nerves be damned, you can’t take much more. You take the hand on your bra and slowly guide it downwards, reveling in his rough hand on your body and how good it feels. Reaching your soaked panties you wonder, “Am I seriously about to do this? Am I going to take advantage of a man that has been nothing but good and kind to me?”  

Before you can answer yourself, Emmett moves again. His bodyweight on yours makes you turn over on your stomach. He is directly on top of you now. With your legs slightly more open than before, you can feel him right where you want him. Now Emmett is just rutting against you without abandon, each motion moving your panties against your clit. It takes all you have in you to not answer his moans with your own. Right before you feel like you could come for the first time ever, he growls your name as you feel hot liquid seep onto your panties. Emmett slows, his high receding, softly panting as he moves off you, flopping onto his back. Your mind is reeling, “Did he just say my name as he came? Did I hear that right?” You slowly look over at him, for some reason expecting him to finally be awake after all that. But his breathing is the same as earlier, slow and soft in dreamland. “Well at least he’ll sleep good tonight, I sure as hell won’t.” You curl back up, parts of you demanding more attention after being rudely interrupted. It was a long night for you indeed.

[ashtheketchum]

●Old times●

Daryl Dixon X fem.Reader

Era: Alexandria (S5)

Summary: The group came to Alexandria and everyone is looking to find a "job" to help this small town. Daryl is very suspicious of this city, but when he sees his neighbor, he no longer wastes any thought about this city.

Warnings: +18 CONTENT, FEM.Reader, unprotected sex, virgin Daryl, virgin Reader, missionary, mention of sickness, mention of violence, angst

Words: 5,4k

Masterlist!

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PoV (Y/N):

Deanna had told us that Aaron had found Rick's group. Alexandria had heard a lot of this Rick and Deanna absolutely wanted this group with us. To be honest, I had a strange feeling that this group would come to us, but then I felt a little fear in me when I learned that this group would sleep next to my house. But I forced myself to smile so that I wouldn't look rude. I was not rude, I was just careful, everything was possible in this world.

When Deanna made a welcome party, I forced myself there for a few minutes because Nicholas had invited me. Everyone was known to everyone, including me. He wanted to talk to me all the time, told me about his runs outside of the walls, and he always invited me to eat. I had nothing against Nicholas, he was nice, polite and also respected my limits, but I didn't wanted to be in a relationship with him. My last relationship, which was before the apocalypse started, didn't ended so well. I had loved my boyfriend at this time, but now I didn't even know if he was still alive. Deep inside I knew that he would still live, but the fear that he was one of these undead was too big.

At the welcome party I stayed on the edge most of the time, but of course Nicholas stayed with me. He kept talking to me and drank out of his glass, but I was somewhere else with my head. Whenever we got new residents, I had hopes to see my boyfriend at the time. We didn´t broke up in good terms, but I loved him. God, okay, I still love him today. "Nicholas… I think i should go home… I don´t feel good." I said softly which made him twitch. He looked at me disappointed briefly, but before he nodded and brought me to the door. "I´ll Bring You Home." Actually, I wanted to be alone, but I let it endure.

So I just nodded politely and we went out. Outside, the pleasant night air bumped into my face and the sky was already black. Fortunately, the path was not so long to my house, so we arrived very quickly and I opened my door. Smiling I turned to Nicholas again, who grinned at me but in a politely manner. "Thank you, Nicholas… have a good night." "Can´t I… come in with you?" A slight panic built up in me, but I immediately thought of an idea of ​​how I could get it to go. Immediately I hit my hand on my mouth and I gave loud choking noises from me. I quickly shook my head and I hit the door shut in front of his nose. Then I breathed deeply behind the door and I slowly sank to the ground.

Hopefully he would not come to me the next morning to ask me how I feel.

In the next morning I baked a few cookies that I had always baked cookies the apocolypse. Each of my contacts had always got these cookies and now here in Alexandria it was no different. I always baked these cookies and since I now had new neighbors, I also wanted to give them some of my cookies. Even if this group sounded terrifying, I wanted to leave a good impression, so I did so.

I had placed the freshly baked cookies on my open window so that they could cool down a little. While the cookies cooled down, I showered quickly and put on fresh clothes. As soon as my hair was dry, I put the cookies in a bowl and I went outside, to my new neighbors. However, it was already a little later, most of them were probably at Deanne and talked to her about new jobs. But I tried my luck and knocked on the door. In short it was quiet, I heard no voices and no steps. Just when I wanted to go back to my house, I heard steps that approached the door, in the next moment the door was open.

"Yah?" A rough voice replied to me. I winced briefly because I was startled, but then I looked at the strange man. He had long hair that slightly covered his blue eyes and he had broad shoulders. I stayed still, my heart stopped and my throat became completely dry. Daryl stood in front of me. Daryl Dixon.

PoV Daryl:

I looked at the woman silently, in her hands she held a bowl of cookies. She seemed to be a little frightened to see me, but when I looked into the bowl, I got a little dizzy. "Daryl…?" Whispered the woman quietly. Her voice let my heart beat faster and I swallowed hard. I thought she had died that she was one of the walkers. But she stood here, unharmed, as beautiful as always. "I-i'm sorry…" She stuttered loudly before putting the bowl on the floor and walking away. I stayed still, watched her disappear into the house next door. Then my gaze went back to the cookies.

These goddamned cookies would have made me throw up before the apocolypse, and I would´ve never thought that I would miss this cookies. But now I stood here, raised the bowl and took a cookie to bit into it. The taste came over me immediately and I grumbled quietly. "Daryl, who was here?" I heard someone ask.

I immediately turned and I looked at Carol. She was the next one going to Deanne and experiencing her new job. Her gaze went to the cookies, then back to me. Her gaze already asked me who I got the cookies from and I was afraid that I had to tell her.

PoV (Y/N):

I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. Daryl still lived, I just couldn't believe it. I was so incredibly very happy, but inside I was also afraid. Not from him, I was never afraid of Daryl, but of what was now between us.

<The day before the apocolypse>

I had a violent argument with Daryl. We cried out, insulted each other or broke anything. We had never argued so hard, and I couldn't even remember what we had argued about. But this was also the day when Daryl had completely shocked me. He had given me a slap in the face because I had insulted his brother and him. Somehow it was my fault, I knew that Daryl was looking up at his brother, but I was angry. It just bursted out of me. After this slap I packed my things and I disappeared.

Although it was my apartment, I grabbed my things and disappeared to my best friend. The next day everything started.

Walkers were running around, they bit everyone and spreaded their virus. I only survived because my best friend had sacrificed herself/himself. I fled to the forests in the hope of finding Daryl and seeing if he would be fine, but his house was empty. I ran around panicked until I was taken up by a small group at some point. But this group was also wiped out and I was again the only one who survived. At some point I met Aaron, who brought me to Alexandria. Since then I have lived a good life and I was able to take a deep breath. But Daryl never left my head.

<Present>

And now? Now he´s my fucking neighbour!

I stayed at home all day long. Nicholas came by briefly to bring me a warm soup because of yesterday. Somehow I was grateful to him because I really didn't feel well, but it wasn't a stomach ache. It was a dirty pressure that lived in my chest since I had Daryl in front of me again. So while I played with the soup with my spoon, I suddenly heard that it knocked on my door again. Inside, I prepared myself to be awarded by Nicholas again, but when I opened the door, Daryl stood in front of me.

He looked nervous to the ground, an squirrel in his hand. "I… Brough´ ya food…" He murmured softly and he held my squirrel. Others would have been disgusted or had declared Daryl as a crazy person, but my heart made a jump and my cheeks became red. "… Thanks…" I gently took the dead squirrel from him before I stepped a little to the side. "Do you wanna come in?" Daryl just nodded, to my question and then came in.

It was still an unpleasant silence between us, but I tried to loosen this tension a bit by cooking us some tea and helping daryl to skin the squirrel. It was almost like back then before the world went to shit. We didn't speak much either, only exchanged a few words or I gave him a short smile. When we were finished, we put the squirrel in a pan and made it ready for dinner. "Yar cookies ´re still good…" He suddenly murmured. I turned to him frightened before I smiled shyly and looked down. "Thanks…"

Our atmosphere became a little more relaxed and I was able to talk to him more and more. When we sat down at the table, we ate together and we continued to talk. "… i´ve been lookin´ for ya…" He said suddenly. His eyes went down, so his long hair now covered his eyes even more. I remained silent and I realized that my feelings for Daryl were never really gone. He had searched for me. I would like to know how many nights he was awake and had thought of me? How bad did he felt that he had hit me before all this started? "Daryl… I'm sorry…" "Don´ apologize…" He shook his head lightly, but he still looked down.

Slowly I got up and I went up to him to let my fingers drive through his long hair. Daryl never shrugged when I touched it. He leaned closer and closer to my touches, just like now. He sighed softly before he wrapped his arms around me and buried his face between my breasts. "´though´ ya were dead…" His voice broke my heart, I would´ve never thought that it would break him so much. "But i´m here now… with you…" My words brought him to nod and I smiled slightly.

While my fingers played with his hair, Daryl gently caressed my back. His hands always went to my lower back, never to my ass. We were never really intimate, Daryl had never felt ready because of his body, and I didn't wanted to stress him either. Just like now. We stayed in this position for a while, Daryl had still wrapped his arms tightly around me while I continued to run my hair through his long, brown strands. It was a little unusual to see him with long hair, but he looked really good with them. Daryl only went back to his house when the sun was down.

We stopped on my doorstep and I looked nervous and unsure at him. How should we say goodbye? With a kiss? With a hug? Wave? Were we even still a couple? Too many questions went through my head, but I was thrown back hard into reality when Daryl kissed my forehead. "See´ya…" And with these words he went to his house.

Only when he closed the front door did I go back into my house and I gently put my finger on my forehead. My skin tingled and I felt my cheeks getting warmer. Before the world went to shit, Daryl had always kissed me on the forehead before going away. It was something like a silent promise that he would come back again and again. I could only think of Daryl all night long, but this time in a good way. I knew he was safe, slept next to my house and probably also thought of me. Although it always annoyed me in our old times, I sometimes missed his quiet snoring. But the funny fact about this was, that he only snored when I slept next to him. How can someone who is as quiet as a hunter at the same time be so loud?

I thought of old times all nights and days that I had with Daryl. At this time I found them cheesy or strange, but today I just thought they were great.

When I once asked him to buy something, he brought two squirrels and three fishes back, which he had hunted by himself. I was startled and asked him why he didn't just went to the supermarket which was maybe just 10 minutes away from us. "Don´ need tha´ shit…" Was his only answer to my question. I found it incredibly weird back then, but today I had to grin because of this. I wondered how he would have reacted if I had praised him?

On my birthday he was camping with me and we had to go back home because it had stormed unexpectedly. After that we both were sick and I was incredibly annoyed, but now I had to laugh and think about how lovingly Daryl had taken care of me, even though he was also very sick. Or when we had argued and he ran away. At first I thought that he would never come back, but on the same day there was a huge bouquet on my doorstep with a little note on it which says "´ sorry.". The next day, Daryl knocked on my door and apologized in person then.

When we were together for three years, Daryl had my initials tattooed on his wrist. I found it incredibly cute and I kept stroking the ink when we cuddled or when I was nervous. Sometimes I also caught daryl how he himself stroked these letters when he was nervous. We had experienced a lot together and I hoped that we could continue to do so.

The next day I met with a few neighbors, we always met once a week and we talked about everything. To do this, we sit on my terrace because it had a bank and a Hollywood swing. I had brought us all something refreshing to drink and we talked for a while.

When I was entertained, I saw from the corner of the eye that Daryl went out of the house to get to Deanne's house, he would probably find out his job today. He passed my house and nodded to me briefly, I could see a small smile on his lips. This little smile made my heart beat faster and faster because I knew exactly that he only gave me this smile. "(Y/N)? Helloooo?" One of my neighbors waved in front of my face, which made me flinch. I looked around a bit, my neighbors looked at me confused and worried. My cheeks became bright red when I realized that I had stared at Daryl all the time. "S-sorry… I what just…" "What that one of the new group?" Now my neighbors looked at me even more confused, but a few seemed to understand it and they grinned broadly. "You like him? Why him? He is the weirdest one of all them. " "He's not weird…! He's just… special… I guess." The grin, on my neighbors lips got wider and my cheeks became even more red now. "Don´t look at me like that…" I murmured softly, but that only brought them to laugh loudly.

"Oh my God! I would´ve never thought he's your type! Is it because of his muscles? " "He smiled at you! Maybe he likes you too! " "Do you still have some sexy underwear?" They overwhelmed me with questions and I was slowly becoming dizzy. I hadn't told anyone in Alexandria about Daryl and me. Accordingly, nobody knew that we were together. Or still somehow are…? I don´t know it. "Guys, guys… Let her breathe." The oldest neighbor in our group said then.

I gratefully smiled at her before I cleared my throat and adjusted my clothes, although there was nothing to do with them. I breathed deeply before I tried to somehow avoid. "We knew each other… Before the apocolypse … Nothing more." It wasn't really a lie tho. My neighbors stayed still briefly before they grinned even more and nodded. Fortunately, they no longer asked. When it was evening, I was about to go to bed when someone knocked on my door.

I saw confused at the clock, which showed me that it was 11 p.m. So I took my morning mantle even more confused and I wrapped it around my body so that nobody could see my pajamas. I could never wear anything with long sleeves while sleeping, it had to be a shirt or top and a shorts. And since I didn't want anyone to see me in top and shorts, I wrapped the morning mantle around me. Slowly I went to the door and I opened it quietly. "Daryl?" I saw confused to the archer, which only looked shy at me. In his hand he held a white rose while holding his crossbow with the other. "What are you doing here so late?" "´Was outside… can I uh… Come in…?" His question let me stall a little, but I nodded slightly and let him in.

Daryl putted down his crossbow and pulled out the shoes before I took the rose and put it in a small vase. As I put the vase on the window, Daryl hugged me from behind, his strong arms wrapped around my hip. My breath caught briefly before I looked back at him. "Daryl…? Are you okay …?" "´M sorry…" He wanted to withdraw, but I grabbed his hand and leaned more into his hug. Daryl swallowed audibly, which made me chuckle in my head. Then the archer turned me around and buried his face into my neck. Slowly I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer to me.

"Do you wanna sleep here tonight?" I whispered softly as I played with his hair again. I liked his long hair, I liked it very much. Daryl hummed deeply before he nodded slightly and raised his head to look at me. With my fingers I stroked his strands of hair away from his forehead, so I had a better look at his eyes. His blue eyes sparkled slightly because of the moonlight, which seemed through my window. I smiled at him gently before we went up. We closed my bedroom door before I pulled out my morning mantle and put it on my chair. When I looked at Daryl, I watched him taking off his vest and shirt.

That was another thing I loved about Daryl. No matter how free I walked around, he remained respectful and sometimes even looked away. Sadly I´m the one who stares at the other one. Daryl looked so incredibly good, his broad shoulders, his strong chest, which is equipped with a few hairs, his narrow but stable hip and his strong arms. God, his arms, I had loved the most how they could lift me up with ease and kept me close to him. I loved them and Daryl knew that too. But when my eyes went to his back, my expression became sad briefly. His scars were terrible, a constant memory of his violent father, but I kept showing him that his scars never deterred me. I kissed every of them gently, stroked his back and also massage it.

There were also scars on his chest, much more than before the apocalypse. Probably he had received them through surviving and the fights. "´re ya still starin´ at an old men like me?" He suddenly teased me. My cheeks became bright red before I looked away and giggled softly. Slowly I went towards him and I put my hand over one of his scars, on his chest. "We're the same age, Daryl …" "´m a few years older, woman …" "Only three …" Daryl snorted briefly before I shaked my head.

I licked my lower lip uncertainly before I felt his rough hand on my cheek. We came closer and closer until our lips nestled together. A sigh escaped my lips, just like Daryls, while we moved our lips rhythmically against each other. We closed our eyes while we slowly climbed into bed. Daryl put his hand gently to my side to pull me closer to him. I carefully stroked his cheek, his beard stubble tickled my skin lightly. Breathing hard we loosened from each other and we looked deep into the eyes from the other.

I saw something in Daryl´s eyes that I had never really seen in them. Hunger, lust and pure love. I always saw love in his eyes when he looked at me, but hunger and lust were new. I continued to stroke his cheek, swallowing, the redneck remained calm while he pulls me on his lap. "Do you wanna do this …?" I then asked softly. Daryl only grumbled quietly before he nodded slightly and took my hand to kiss my wrist. He kept the intensive eye contact with me. "Yeh … ´ wanna show ya how much I missed ya …" He then murmured softly against my skin.

His words gave me a light goose bumps and I nodded slightly. Daryl sat up and gently removed my top, so I could let it fall next to the bed. He looked at my bare breasts briefly before looking at my shoulders. He gently put his hands on my sides and he started kissing my shoulder. Panting, I closed my eyes and I put my hands over his back. I gently stroked his scars, which let him breathe in trembling.

He carefully grabbed my breasts and gently massaged them. His touch let me gasp loud because of the mix, his rough skin and his gentle touch, let me moan loudly. Daryl massaged my breasts for a while as he stirred my neck and shoulders with kisses before having his hands drive to my shorts. He stopped briefly. "You can continue, Daryl…" I whispered softly and lifted my pelvis slightly so that it was easier to take them off. The archer grumbled briefly before pulling down my shorts and my panties. When he threw both out of bed, his gaze immediately went to my cunt. "Yar so beautiful …" He murmured softly before he gently pushed me in bed.

I automatically spread my legs so that he could lie between them. Under his pants I could already see his bulge, which twitched from time to time. I looked up at him with bright red cheeks, but Daryl looked at my body very well as if he hadn't seen it for years. Well, he hasn´t seen my body in years. "Daryl …" "Hm?" Only slightly present he answered me, he put his hands on my sides. "I love you … I never stopped …" Then I whispered softly.

The archer immediately flinched, his eyes sparkled briefly before leaning forward to me, with his arms he supported himself. He pressed a loving kiss on my lips as he gently rubbed his pelvis against mine. The fabric, of his jeans, rubbed against my clitoris and I could now feel his hard cock even more. I gently grabbed into his strong arms as I felt that I was getting wetter. Daryl rubbed against me ever tighter, his cold stimulus lock sometimes gave me a cold shiver. "Ah ~…! D-Daryl ~… " I gasped softly and closed my eyes. Daryl just growled softly, but his eyes were very careful. He wanted to see how I felt while he rolled his hips faster and faster against mine. "Ya wan´ more ~?" His voice was rough and they gave me a pleasant shiver.

My nipples got hard and they rubbed his chest slightly. I quickly nodded before I opened my eyes and looked in his eyes. "Yes, please~… Daryl~… i´ve waited so long for this… for us~…" My words let his cock, in his pants, twitch and he growled loudly. Slowly he moved his hips away and he sat up to pull his jeans down. But to his cock tho, I was able to see a huge, wet stain, which immediately let me blush. Daryl hadn't rubbey against me too long and I was already so wet.

Daryl seemed to understand my redness because he grinned briefly before he pulled his underwear down to his knees, and looked up to me. "It's okay … Don´ be emberrassed …" His voice was so gentle and so rough at the same time. I had to gasp loud and I nodded slightly. Daryl supported himself again, with his arms, his lips landed on my cleavage, which he covered with mouth-opened kisses. He went deeper and deeper until his lips closed around my nipple and he sucked gently on it. He twirled the other nipple with his fingers, which made me a whine.

I automatically moved my hips back and forth, hoping to get some friction, but I didn't get anything. Only my breasts got his attention. Daryl covered my chest with smooch stains and sucked greedily on my nipple before he went to the other breast and gave her the same treatment. "Daryl~ … please~ …" I felt that my abdomen contracted, with excitement and my clitoris pulsed even more.

Although he barely touched me, the tears came out of my eyes because of the excitement and I breathed faster and faster. Daryl seemed to feel my excitement because he kissed up to my face again until he gently kissed my lips. "Greedy woman, ha~?" I had to giggle softly, but I nodded slightly. I was really greedy. Greedy for him, after the man that I had loved for over 5 years now. And now I would get this man completely. I could hardly wait, but could you blame me? "It's okay…" And with these words I heard how he positioned himself on my pussy. I looked down between the two of us, to his cock. A few drops of pre-cum was on his tio and they slowly ran down his shaft. Daryl rubbed his shaft between my folds and he moved his hips forth and back. Moaning quietly, I bit my lower lip, my grip around his arms, became a little firmer. "Can I get in~?" "Yes, Daryl~ … Please…" I lay on my back relaxed, in the bed and I looked up at him.

The archer supported himself again, but this time only with one arm. He positioned himself at my entrance with his other hand before he slowly pushed into me. Moaning I closed my eyes, while Daryl now supported himself with both arms now and also closed my eyes. The archer breathed heavily and quickly, while my inner walls sucked his shaft deeper and closely pulled together around him. A strong pain passed through me briefly before this pain turned into lust. When I opened my eyes again, I looked up. Daryl had buried his face into my neck, but I felt his rapid breath and his quick heartbeat while his cock pulsed hard into me. I felt full, but in the good way.

My senses were foggy and I gently caressed his back. I gently stroked his back to show him that he should take time. My gentle touch made him tremble briefly before he raised his head and looked deep into my eyes. His blue eyes looked at me lustfully, his cheeks were red and a few of his strands of hair hung in front of his face. I gently stroked this path and I kissed Daryl gently. "You can move…" I whispered against his lips. Daryl just growled softly before he started moving slowly. He slowly pulled himself out of me, only to sink back into me immediately afterwards. A loud sigh escaped me and I closed my eyes again. “Nah… look in my eyes” I heard the archer moaning quietly.

I immediately listened to him and opened my eyes again. We looked deep into each other's eyes as Daryl kept bumping his hip against mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist to draw him even closer to me. Daryl was still leaning his arms beside my head, his strong arms always tense slightly as he sank deep into me. “I love ya…” Daryl grumbled softly, his voice giving me a pleasant shiver. “I love you too…” After I moaned this, Daryl moved faster.

Our skin slapped louder and louder, and my voice grew louder and louder. I found it increasingly difficult to keep my eyes open, so I closed them slowly. I felt Daryl lean his forehead against mine, and his voice also grew a little louder. My hands went from his back to his arms, into which I pressed my fingernails. The bed between us squeaked loudly and I kept moaning his name as if he were a god. My legs, around his waist, were getting tighter and tighter around his hip, so Daryl couldn't stretch out very far. His strokes were getting faster and shorter, which took my breath away. “G-god, Daryl!” My voice grew louder and my chest raised and lowered faster and faster.

Daryl growled loudly before he started kissing my neck. He gently bit into my skin, which again took my breath away. Although my eyes were closed, they rolled backwards. All I could hear in my room was the sound of our voices and our skin slapping together. Every now and then I would let out a whimper and Daryl a loud growl. Daryl gently bit my throat, which made me gasp loudly. I stretched my back and pressed my breasts against his chest. “D-daryl, fuck!” "Mnhrr… (Y/N)…" Hearing his deep growl, so close to one ear, made me tremble, and I whimpered louder and louder.

I got goosebumps while Daryl raised his head again and looked at my face. I felt his gaze on me, even though my eyes were closed, but I could not open them either, it was almost as if he had enchanted me. Perhaps he had even done so. The next moment Daryl sat up, his hands now gently grasping my hip. Confused, I opened my eyes before tearing them wide open and screaming loudly. Daryl's grip around my hip became firmer and he rammed himself harder into me. I firmly reached into my duvet, tears ran down my face and I curled my toes. “D-daryl…! Oh my god! I’m gonna cum!” I screamed loudly as I stretched my back.

Daryl's tip kept bumping against the magic point of mine that made me see stars. I was so excited, I still "cried" because of the arousal which was getting too much for me to handle. Daryl also grew a little louder, his cock was twitching more and more inside me, that means that he´s also about to cum. As my orgasm rolled over me, I moaned Daryl's name out loud, my pussy tightened tightly around his shaft and sucked even more greedily on him.

The archer gasped in shock before also moaning my name out loud and cuming at me. I felt his hot seeds flow into me. Breathing heavily, Daryl let me go and he pulled himself out of me while I tried to calm myself down. The archer fell into the bed next to me and he sighed loudly into my pillow, making me giggle. “That was good…” I whispered quietly.

Daryl grumbled approvingly before placing his arm on my stomach and pulling me closer to him. Giggling, I kissed his temples while straightening his boxer shorts and then snuggled up to him. “Were ya a virgin?” He asked me suddenly, his voice still muffled by the pillow. His question surprised me a little, but I nodded slightly. “Yeah… were you?” "´f course, woman…" He turned his face to me and looked at me, his eyes tired. Smiling, I kissed him gently before pulling the blanket over us. "I love ya… and 'm sorry for bein´ an asshole..." “It’s okay… you are here now, with me.” We kissed each other again before we both fell asleep. Grinning I fell asleep when I heard his loud snoring again.

[fiveht]

Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?" 

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

[jakesangel]

jake and reader who sh ꣑୧ - requested

tw//mention of sh, jake is healing n comforting reader

it doesn't go unnoticed how you always hide yourself under your clothes to jake, wearing long sleeves, no short even inside the house. he never asked you why nor why you didn't want to take showers w him or going to the beach, tho he wishes you trust him n tell him why. he understood when, one day, he saw your scars as your sleeve ride up a bit as you pass him the tv remote, but even then he didn't say anything. in fact he even forgot why he wanted the remote, only thinking about you n your problems. for the next few days, he wouldn't stop thinking about it, on why you aren't trusting him or what is going on that he doesn't know off.

few days later, he would come over unnoticed wanting to surprise you, and keeping an eye on you, but to his surprise your place was dark n silent. he wouldnt call you, thinking your asleep. so after he removes his outside clothes n his shoes, he'd go straight to your room, without making any noises, wanting to cuddle you n protecing you in your sleep. as jake opens the door, he almost burst out a yell, panick filling his body, seeing you unfazed state on your bed. tho he doesn't know what to do, he'd quickly compose himself to not make it harder to you. he would let shaky breath as he walk towards you, his eyes set on your frame whereas your eyes,full of tears stays on the ceiling avoiding his reaction. you've tried very hard to protect jake from all your problem, yet he is here n you can't bring yourself to move. y/n ? he called suprinsingly softly, i'm gonna take this away okay ?, taking the vile object off of your bed. he would then kneel next to your bed, please look at me, love, n give you a pained smile, tears building, as you turn your head to his side. come on let's get you cleaned up, as he puts his hands behind your shoulder, helping you to get up.

he would help you, water running where it is red, flinching along side w you when it hurts to munch. he will be the one drying you n disinfect everything. n it's only then he would break the tense silence, does it hurt ?, he'd softly ask as he puts some bandage on your arm. he'd nod at your answer, still not knowing how to handle this very serious situation but he would do what he knows the best : to hug you, to engulf you n protect you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world which you are to him. if you stay silent, he will pull you in a hug, keeping you close, wanting nothinf else to hurt you. but if you thank him he would also comfort you w words my angel, i hope you know how munch i love you n how much i wishes you know you can trust me. i know when things gets hard we can't help but go back to what's the easiest way to cope, even if it's bad for us and even if we promised to not do it again. that's just how we are. and i will not force you to stop nor talk about it but please, baby, can you promise me to fight the urges ? you dont have to tell me when you want to do it but can you come to me first ? im sorry if i made you feel like i wont always be there for you but i am. is it alright for me to ask you that ? can you promise ? please ?

notes : hai anon here is ur request ᵎ i hope i wrote it well tho i'm not close to such topic. i hope you are alright n please come to me if needed <3

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee

[crybabykiko]

sinister ♡ suo hayato

+ virgin!freader. smutty, aged up as always- mid 20s, NOT OOC (y'all don't know him like I do), suo has a thing for virgins, implied virginity loss, implied trophy taking, kind of implied manipulation, but I did write in condom use so be very proud of me

daisy says: this has been rattling in my brain's little cage ever since I saw him- I had to get it out. I have lived long enough to see myself become the villain (I need him so bad and no longer wish to live in denial).

He was nice. He was charming. He was respectful. Those are the three characteristics you could always use to describe Hayato Suo. Or you could say enigmatic, worldy, kind of a flirt... It’s also not a bad choice to add ‘Smells like Bleu de Chanel in the spring and Tuscan Leather in the winter.’ The fact of the matter is, he was a chameleon, the perfect definition of adaptable. And that’s what made him so sinister. 

The first few dates were great. A lavish dinner or two with great wine and a well of conversation that seemed to never run dry. On your third night out, there was even a little nightcap at a late-night teahouse that served as a speakeasy after hours. But, ever the gentleman, he would drive you home, walk you to your door, and gently peck you on the cheek. 

“I had fun tonight,” he would hum the words low and into your ear, interlacing his fingers as he looked over you, his frame casting a shadow in the doorway. 

“You can come in if you want…” Your voice was soft, timid. 

“It’s late, but maybe… if we… go on another date?”

He raised an eyebrow, placing a kiss to your hand, then one to your lips. 

“I’d like that,” you smiled. 

As he let go of your hand, he shot a glance back your way. His eyes had a way of seeing right through you. You could never forget that gaze. There was something in it, something you could never quite put your finger on. 

That next date came. It came and went and once again there you stood, his frame once again towering over you on your doorstep.

“You can come in if you want.” It rang out of you like every other time before. But call it a change in the wind, call it the stars aligning, call it what you want- this was different. 

“Would you like for me to come in, Y/N?” It was sticky sweet but equally coated in a spicier innuendo.

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

Another thing about Hayato Suo you could now add to your list- he was a good- no,  an amazing kisser. It was as if he studied your every move before you could make one; the way his lips ebbed, the way his tongue slid against yours, he could knock the wind out of you and give you the jaws of life simultaneously. Your mouths hit one another’s and moved in complete sync as he pushed you through the threshold of the softlit apartment. Your teeth briefly clattered together as you discarded your purse and jacket, keys falling to the floor of the entryway as you never once broke or separated yourself from each other. The tension built between your bodies over the past month or so of barely-there encounters was apparent and falling away just like every piece of clothing between you that was being strewn about the hallways leading to your bedroom. 

You started to come to your senses as your head hit your mattress, leaving you to gaze up at him longingly, staring with widened eyes while he worked at the buttons on his shirt. You bit your lip, scooting back and pressing your thighs together. Here you were, practically naked, save your matching bra and panty set- in front of a guy. Granted, he wasn’t just any guy- but the fact of the matter stood- you’d never been here before, never this close to the opposite sex, let alone- having sex. You wanted to, of course, but you had no idea what you were doing or even what to expect. 

“Wait I- ahhh- mhm, Hay-” he cut you off. 

“I’ve told you,” he laughed.  “It's okay to call me Suo.” His lips stayed pressed at your neck, slowly detaching as he craned his own neck to look you in the eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be so formal with me, Y/N, especially not now.”

“I’ve never- I…” the words got caught in your throat. 

“You’ve never done this before,” he finished for you. 

“I know. Don’t worry I’ve got you.”

How did he know? Not important- There it was again. That look. The look into you that bored right through your body. The liminal space between you was filled by barely there touches and feathering kisses down your neck, chest, and stomach. He worked his way down, stopping just between your thighs now, the heat present near your core practically calling him in. Carefully nipping at your hips, Suo caught the thin band of your underwear between his perfect teeth, tugging you out of them before tucking them in his back pocket- his new prize safely locked away. The sting of his cold hands titillated the skin at your thighs. Slowly, he ran his hands down to your knees, parting them to reveal your already glistening slit. He licked his lips as you shuddered in anticipation.

It felt as though he was barely there, fingers lazily lingering inside you, slowly inching toward the spot you needed them the most, but with no release in sight. the teasing sensation of them moving at all leaving you trying to rut yourself into him further. You weren’t strong enough for him, even with one hand. 

 “How badly do you want it, baby, hm?”

He wiped the side of your mouth, lolled open with drool from your dizzied state. He added a third digit to your already messy, helplessly needy hole, your walls immediately tightening in response. He was deadly as a nightshade- and you were just another flower growing in his garden, petals bright pink and ready to be picked. The quivering in your lip told him all he really needed to know, and still, he kept stringing it out, keeping you there on the brink of explosion.

“Just say you want me to fuck you and I'll do it. Say it now."

“W-want you to fuck me, please, I wan’ you to…” Your words trailed off yet again as you reached toward him, quickly pulling him down to loom over you. You had never seen him like this, but you wanted him to stay there forever. He moaned into your mouth, swatting your hands away to fumble around in his pockets for the condom he put there before leaving tonight. 

You’ll never know, but he planned it this way. He was always going to be your first… he knew that, but you didn’t- you didn’t need to. 

Sinister, indeed. 

[mismatched-sockss]

Say something

» Summary: You and Emily have been seeing each other for a couple of months now -without anyone knowing -, but can't keep being her secret. » Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Word count: 3,9k (omg, when??) » Warnings: angst, it's implied that reader is outed - Emily isn't, allusions to intercourse in the beginning, mentions of (internalized) homophobia, mentions of coming out (forced coming out is mentioned, one (1) small implication of conversion therapy like stuff (it's only talked about, no details or anything close)) and unsupportive family, mentions of Emily's mother probably not accepting her sexuality (like Rosa Diaz' mother/parents in Brooklyn 99, and a thing or two my own mother said), Emily is kind of mean ig?, cheating but not really?, cm typical stuff is mentioned (not detailed), kind of open but definitively more leaning to a sad ending; please let me know if i missed anything! » A/N: written for @imagining-in-the-margins' Pride Challenge, i used the “It’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” dialogue prompt; also based on Say something I'm giving up on you by Sam Redden; tenses? i don't know her here; no body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

⚶ masterlist ⚶

The euphoric bliss that had flooded over you just moments before, leaves your body with every passing second, and the more it wears out, the more the dreadful empty feeling that had slithered its way into your heart not too long ago takes its place. Your breathing is still going fast and your heart hasn't had enough time to slow down yet, when you narrow your eyes while looking at the ceiling. Why did you do this to yourself? Again. This couldn't go on like this.

"I can't do this any more."

You can hear Emily move next to you, turning her head to look at you. She is breathing fast and her warm breath hits your bare shoulder. "What do you mean?" She brushes a few stands of her hair back that had fallen over her eyes.

All of a sudden everything is getting too much. The sensation of sweat running down the back of your neck, the air Emily is exhaling and how it is hitting your skin, over all her presence next to you in the bed. Her bed. Naked.

With a scoff you sit up and bury you face in your hands before you slide them up, racking your fingers through your damp hair. "This. Us. I just- I can't go on like this, spending my nights with you and act as if I haven't touched every inch of your body the next day."

Today is not the first time you had said it out loud and talked about it with her, about wanting to be able to hold and kiss her around other people. It is not the first time you are thinking about this, about leaving because nothing changed event though she had promised and her reasons – excuses , really, at this point – had been valid in the beginning, but now, every time she comes up with a new one they sound more and more made up. Honestly, you can't remember the newest one to a full extent – it had been so absurd –, but it had something to do with her shoes. Like, come on, really? Shoes...?

For a short moment it is silent except for both your breathing. You wait, and when she doesn't say anything you get up to get dressed. Nothing more than your name leaves Emily's lips, and not louder than a whisper, as you walk around the room to pick up your clothes and put them back on. “What?” you say flatly, but you don't look at her. You close the button of your pants and look around the room for your second sock.

“It's good what we are having. I like it how it is.” She shuffles closer, crawling over to edge of the mattress. “And sneaking around is exciting, isn't it?”

You crouch down to pull the missing sock from under the bed and bite down on your lip as your heart clenched painfully. Sneaking around?

“Is that what this is to you? Just... Sneaking around? That's all it is, huh.” A dry laugh leaves your lips as you slip the sock over your foot and then turn to walk out of the room.

“Oh c'mon, Y/N. It's fun, isn't it?” – Fun?! So this was just fun for her? – “You and I, we... It's enough how it is, don't you think?”

With one step out of the bedroom, the other foot still inside, you look back over your shoulder. “All this hiding is enough for you?” You don't fully turn around, you don't want to face her and look into her eyes. Don't want Emily to see the tears that are starting to pool in your eyes or how much her words are breaking your heart.

“I'm not hiding”, she says, defending herself, totally ignoring what you really meant.

You shake your head and leave the room, picking up your bag from the couch in the living room as you walk past it. “You are. And I get it, you're not out and that's okay.” Emily gets up from the bed and quickly puts on a bathrobe before she follows you out, watching you collect your things and walking to the front door. “You shouldn't come out unless you are ready. But at least be honest with yourself-”

“I am. not. hiding”, she interrupts you, her voice sounds strained and as if she is speaking through gritted teeth. The soft pat pat of her bare feet on the floor stop just two meters behind you.

Something in you snaps. "Yeah well, you are hiding me and I'm sick of being your god damn dirty little secret! I love you for fucks sake!"

You freeze as soon as the words leave your mouth, in the middle of putting on your jacket, and for a moment neither of you says a word, the silence seems louder than anything else, louder than how loud you just yelled those words. It was the first time either of you had said those three words to the other and the timing could not be any worse.

"You... What?"

You shake your head, breaking out of your frozen state and bend down to put on your shoes next. "Forget it. I'm done." is what you say. We're done is what you mean.

You wish she would at least say something, but Emily stays silent and when you reach for the door and open it, she doesn't keep you from walking out. When you close the door behind you, she doesn't open it again to call out for you. And when you reach the stairs at the end of the hallway and take the first steps down, the door stays closed and she doesn't run after you.

She let you leave like it was nothing, like you were nothing. Like all the time you had spent together meant nothing to her. All those days and nights full of hushed voices whispering sweet nothings to each other, full of soft touches and even softer kisses. Emily let you walk out of her apartment, her life, as if you never meant anything to her, like the last six months indeed were nothing more than fun to her.

From the moment you step out of the door of Emily's apartment building, to the moment you walk in and close the door of your own, you feel numb and you operated solely on autopilot on your way home. If someone were to ask you what route you had taken home or if you missed a red light even, you wouldn't be able to tell them.

As if a it hasn't been enough for one night, you get called into work just 30 minutes later; the body of a young woman had been found, tortured and mutilated, and another young woman had been abducted only five miles from where the body was found.

When you arrive in the round table room you greet your team mates grimly and you are relieved that you got in before Emily. When she enters minutes later, you don't turn around, you don't say hello and you do your best to ignore her. The tension in the room is palpable and judging by the looks the others shoot between her and you, they know that something had happened between you two.

They didn't know that you were dating – hooking up? What ever the fuck it had been to her anyway –, but you didn't have to be a profiler or even know either of you personally to see that something was up. Hotch is kind enough to not team the two of you up, sending you to the disposal site with Rossi instead.

The days since you walked out of Emily's apartment turned into weeks. The days turned into weeks since you last talked, like really talked. You had kept your distance to her as much as you could, trying to sort out your feelings and trying to see if she would take a step in your direction, to see if she even cared at all.

But, slowly but surely you had to accept the fact, that everything pointed to her not caring about you. Every conversation with her was strictly professional, talking about the cases was the only time you spoke to each other. Not a day goes by when you don't wish she would say something more to you, something personal, something deeper. Something emotional. That she would say something that would keep you from giving up on her. But she never did.

You should have known from the start that this was how it would end, that the only outcome from getting involved with Emily would be that you would end up with a broken heart. Naivety couldn't even begin to describe why you had even wasted a single thought about having a future with her, a happy ending; with Emily, a woman who hasn't come out, a woman with a mother who would be more okay with her daughter being the side chick of some married man, maybe even multiple, than to accept her daughter to be in a relationship with another woman; a mother who says, that she “doesn't care who her daughter ends up with, as long as it isn't someone of the same gender”.

Ever since the night you broke up with Emily – if you could even call it a break up when you weren't even a couple, officially speaking – you cry yourself to sleep and your feelings are bouncing back and forth, scrambling your mind and heart in to a broken, confused mess.

On one side, you are drowning in the shattered pieces of your heart; the pain getting stronger every time you see Emily, the longing and yearning strangling you harder every time you are left alone in a room with her, the floor under your feet crumbling away stone by stone with every day that passes without her reaching out to you. You miss her, you miss her so fucking much, and way more than you would like to admit – even to yourself, which is kind of hypocritical, considering you had told Emily to “be honest to herself”.

On the other side, you are cursing yourself for unintentionally giving her an ultimatum of some sort; not only for going public about your relationship, but therefore also for her to come out, even if only to your team, your friends. It was far from your intentions to pressure Emily into anything she didn't want to do, into something that she wasn't ready for. You never set a time or anything like that, but the implication was there – intended or not – by wanting to go public.

It is scary; coming out... As a woman who loves women, a man who loves men or either loving both. It doesn't matter if you come out as transgender, non-binary or gender-fluid, asexual or aromantic, or … or. ... or ... It doesn't matter who you are or what you feel or who you love: it is hard and scary either way and you never know how the person in front of you will react, even if you think you know.

Coming out to people, to friends, who you trust and know on a deeper level – even when you already for a hundred percent are sure that they will accept you no matter what – is hard enough. Coming out to your family is another kind of scary uncertainty: hoping they will still love you, that they will accept and support you; the fear of them turning their backs on you, cutting you out of their lives and on top of all this, hoping that if this was the case, that this was all they would do, hoping it would stay the lesser kind of evil and that they wouldn't go to any extreme measures to try and “fix” you. It was already hard enough to come out planned and willingly at your own pace. But having to do it for what ever reason? Unimaginable. Cruel.

On more than one evening you dialled Emily's number, your thumb hovering over the green button and ready to press down. Ready to apologize for how you had reacted and what you had said, for pressuring her. Maybe even apologizing for telling her that you loved her –

Wait. What?

Yes, maybe you should swallow your pride and call her first and ask her to talk; but apologizing for your feelings? No, you were done with shoving your feelings down and taking what you could get and stay in a one-sided relationship – letting the person use and play with you while they were stringing you along. For them to give you a slither of requited affection whenever they could feel you slip away, depending on your soft heart and that you would stay in hopes they will requite your feelings, your love, someday. No, you were done slowly dying for unrequited love.

The ball is in her court and it is on her to throw it back or to keep it.

Being around Emily has gotten unbearable these last six weeks. You had never felt like this before, never felt like this for anyone else until you had met her. It was all overwhelming and too much, but not enough at the same time, the feelings overpowering you in the best and worst kind of ways; pushing and pulling at your heart, slowly tearing it apart but also glueing it back together in a wild storm of emotions. You felt like you were just starting to learn how to love, but also knowing exactly how to do it – how to love her, in the right way and with everything you had; heart, body and soul.

But it doesn't seem like your love is enough; enough to save what ever you and Emily had been having, to find your way back into each others arms.

The last straw, the rotten cherry on top, was on a night out with the team to celebrate a successful case at a bar near the FBI building and you walked in on Emily making out with someone else in a dark corner near the restrooms. It was too dark for you to fully see the other person. And for a second you aren't sure what would hurt you more: if she was making out with a man, or with a woman.

You get your answer rather quickly, when Emily sees you and pushes the person away. They stumble back a step or two and then turn their head to follow Emily's gaze. And... it's a woman.

There are no words to describe how you are feeling as the realisation sinks in; leaving you cold and numb. How could you have been so stupid? It had never been about her. Not about the hurtful and homophobic things her mother always says to her, not about her outing, not about her feelings. It had nothing to do with not being ready to come out and go public about your relationship. It had to do with going public about being with you. The problem, her problem, is and always has been you.

Is she really embarrassed about you, about being with you? That's a new one... You wonder if she ever even liked you in the first place.

It feels like an eternity before either of you move again, after just looking at each other.

“W- what are you doing here?” Emily mutters and you see her wince when she realises how stupid that question was.

You scoff and narrow your eyes at her. “Looking for the exit”, you answer her, deadpan, before turning on your heels and walking back to the table where you and your team were sitting to get your things. You don't answer any of their worried questions about what was wrong, you just down the rest of your drink and grab your purse. You get your wallet out and throw a couple of bills on the table to pay for your part of the tab before you walk out of the bar without another word.

You make your way to the office right after you walked out. Last week, you had gotten the offer to transfer back to the IRT again; well, unofficially offered actually. You had only been on Hotch's team for four years; before then, you had worked under Jack Garrett for quiet some time. Occasionally, maybe twice a year, you travelled with them for consultations. So when Matt Simmons goes on paternity leave in a couple of days, you are the first person Garrett asks to come back for the time being and you were happy to do so. Garrett had called you and as you spoke you joked about feeling hurt that he only wanted to keep you for one month. And even though he was joking too when he said he'd be happy to have you back permanently, you knew he meant it.

Just last week you hadn't been sure if you wanted to stay with your current team or go back. The stack of forms that were needed to request a permanent transfer were already sitting in a drawer of your desk, all filled out. The fact that you had filled them out right after the call ended should have told you then, that you already had made up your mind.

When you reach the sixth floor, you hear the ding of the elevator softly echo through the empty halls. You make a beeline to your desk in the bull pen and fish your keys out of your purse to unlock the drawer. Just when you took out the envelope with all the forms and reach down to close the drawer again, you hear the soft ding again, followed by the sound of the doors sliding open.

Your back is turned to the doors so you don't know who walks out of the elevator; you guess it had to be someone on their way to the crime lab or something.

Until you hear your name that is, and you immediately freeze. How the fuck did she know you would be here?

You turn around and see Emily standing in the bull pen, but keeping a distance to you. “Can we talk?” She slowly walks closer and her gaze falls on the envelope. “What are you doing?”

You press the tip of your tongue to your cheek and take a second before you answer. “Paper work.”

“Paper work?”

“Yes.” You pick up your keys and start to walk towards Hotch's office. You don't want to hear what she has to say.

She says your name again and grips your arm to stop you from walking away. “It's not what you think.”

You laugh at the cliche reaction. Of course it's not what you think. It never is, isn't it?

“Okay, what is it then? Tell me”, you challenge her as you turn to look at her, your tone cold and the corners of you lips are twitching to form a bitter smile, “Go on, tell me. Because it seems pretty obvious to me.”

You twist your arm out of her grip and before she even has time to say something, you bite out: “You know what? We're not even together, I don't care what you do and who you do it with. Fuck who ever you want for all I care. Start with your- who ever she is.”

“I don't want to talk about her.”

“Oh, you don't? Too bad. What else is there to talk about then?”

For a moment she opens and closes her mouth, ending her answer before she even spoke it out loud. “I-. I want to talk about u- about you and me.”

When you don't react she nods her head, like she is confirming that you had hear right and that it was indeed what she wanted.

“Really? Now, you suddenly want to talk to me, about us?” She nods again, her eyes wide and she is giving you the best pleading puppy dog eyes she can do.

“No.”

For a moment she is taken aback and she blinks a couple of times. “No?”

You take a step back and cross your arms over your chest. “No. I don't want to talk. The only reason you want to talk, now, is because I saw you. It's too late. You had six weeks to talk, but you didn't. You're too late. I would have followed you anywhere, you know. Wherever you would want me to go. I would have followed you to the end of the fucking world and would even walk farther, falling over the edge into the abyss. I would walk through fire for you and I'd do it with a smile.”

You couldn't stop yourself from spilling it all out; and just like you can't stop the tears that started to run down your face, you can't stop talking. “You're it for me, you are the one I love. And it’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.” You sniffle and bite down on your lip. “You are the one. And if I am not to you, and you don't love me back that's fine but then at least have the balls to fucking tell me, instead of making up excuses why you don't want to tell anybody that we are seeing each other.”

She had put on a mask while you were talking, hiding her true emotions. Yet again, you wait for her to say something. And yet again all you are met with, is silence.

“Say something...”, you say, almost begging. “Just... Say something...”

Nothing. Emily stays silent and just looks at you, a vacant and unreadable expression on her face and in her eyes. The small part in you that is still wishing upon a star and is hoping, that she would come through, waited for her to talk. But it is no use. She stays silent, like all the other times in these last weeks. So much for her wanting to talk.

“Figures”, you scoff, a bitter smile stretching on your lips, and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I should have given up on you way before I even kissed you”, you say under your breath. You aren't sure if she heard you, but in all honesty, you don't care.

Without wasting another second you turn around and walk up to Hotch's office. You place the envelope with the filled out forms for your immediate transfer in the middle of your Unit Chief's – well, ex Unit Chief's– desk. His signature being the last thing you needed before you could file the request.

You walk out of his office, not sparing even one last look at Emily, who hasn't moved. A few steps after you passed her you stop for a moment to say something for a last time, before you cross the rest of the bull pen and walk out through the glass door; leaving the BAU behind. Leaving her behind.

Two small words, nothing more..

“Goodbye Emily.”

» A/N 2: i really hope i did this justice, especially the (not) coming out parts, tbh i don't think i myself ever really came out, like 'officially', but i have always been open about being bisexual (no idea if my parents ever really connected the dots, but we're no contact either way for different reasons, so what ever) so i'm not sure how well i portrayed it; ...

🌈 Always remember, no matter if you are in the closet or not: you are worthy, you are loved and you are perfect the way you are! Stay safe. 🖤🤎🤍❤️🧡💛💚💙💜