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crazydestinymilkshake · 3 days ago

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Caitlin Clark x Kate Martin Ch 16

Disclaimer: This is my first time writing a fic! Any feedback is welcome. Friends -> lovers, Caitlin's gay-awakening. I obviously don't own any of the rights to these characters etc.

NSFW: Wlw, fxf etc, smut, all that good stuff.

previous chapters below: this chapter is set in CC's Freshman Year, January - Valentines Day.

It wasn’t a clean turn. No dramatic sunrise. No breakthrough in the mirror.

Just space. A little wider than before.

And Caitlin filled it differently.

She still woke up stiff most mornings. Still clutched her jaw through film study. Still counted calories more often than she wanted to admit.

But somewhere between the ache and the rituals she didn’t know how to stop, something started to shift.

Not a fix.

A softening.

They lost 80–87 to Northwestern at home.

Caitlin scored 23. Not bad, not enough.

She missed two late threes she would’ve hit last year. Didn’t have her legs under her. Tried to muscle through it. Afterward, she slammed her water bottle into the locker so hard it cracked. No one said anything.

Kate followed her into the tunnel. Didn’t talk. Just unwrapped Caitlin’s wrist tape while she sat with her face buried in a towel.

Later, when Caitlin stood in front of the mirror, she didn’t see a player. She saw a brand — tired, underperforming, expected to bounce back.

But when Kate tugged her down onto the couch, she surrendered. She didn’t argue. Didn’t pretend she was fine. Just let herself be held.

Not a recovery. But something.

Practice was good the day after.

Not perfect. Not effortless. But good. Her shot felt steady. Her body didn’t fight her. She didn’t snap at her teammates or check the clock every five minutes. She even laughed when Gabbie tripped during layup lines — a real laugh, not the polite kind she used to offer up when she was too tired to mean it.

Coach Bluder caught her once, just for a second, with a look that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t neutral either. Just watching. Clocking the change.

So was Kate.

She didn’t say anything. But she saw it.

The team went to dinner after — some hole-in-the-wall taco place Kate swore by. Caitlin usually made an excuse to skip nights like that. Homework. Treatment. Film study. But she went. Sat in the booth with her knees pressed against Kate’s, laughing at McKenna’s terrible impressions and stealing bites of queso off Jada’s plate.

It felt like college. The kind she always assumed was for other people.

At one point, someone put music on. Someone else knocked over a Sprite. They all screamed.

Caitlin didn’t flinch.

She just laughed again. Let the chaos wash over her like it belonged to her too.

Kate grabbed her hand under the table. Not in a way that asked for attention. Just in a way that said: I see you. I’m here.

And Caitlin squeezed back.

That night, she didn’t go to the gym.

Didn’t shoot 400 shots. Didn’t punish her body for needing rest.

She stayed in. Did some homework. Watched a dumb reality show with Kate on mute while they made each other guess what was happening based on the facial expressions. Caitlin got one right and threw a pillow in the air like she’d won the lottery. Kate tackled her.

They kissed between fits of laughter. Then again. And again, slower.

And Caitlin didn’t pull away.

Not once.

—---------

January 30, Ohio State on the road.

They lost again. 87–92.

Caitlin dropped 27. Ten rebounds. Should’ve been a statement. But she turned the ball over twice in the last minute, fouled out, and threw her mouth guard at her own feet. She didn’t speak on the bus. Didn’t eat dinner. She sat with her headphones in, volume low, eyes closed. Her jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

The locker room was dead silent. The bus even worse. Kate sat next to her and passed her a granola bar. Caitlin didn’t eat it. But she held it the whole ride home.

Kate didn’t push.

Just sat next to her and passed her a granola bar when they stopped for gas.

Caitlin didn’t eat it. But she held it in her hand the whole way home.

At practice the next day, Jan was already on court, rebounding for a freshman who couldn’t pivot. Caitlin laced her shoes in silence.

Shot for an hour.

Missed more than usual.

But she didn’t break anything. Didn’t curse. Didn’t punish.

Just kept shooting.

That counted for something.

In between games, life crept in.

On campus, snow turned to slush. Then it froze again. People slipped on the stairs outside the dorms and left their AirPods in puddles. The team started walking in packs, one hand on the railing, everyone cursing the weather and each other in equal measure.

She saw Dr. Grayson every week.

Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they sat quietly. Sometimes she couldn’t quite get the words right. But Grayson didn’t seem to mind.

“You’re getting closer,” she said once, at the end of a session.

Caitlin nodded. “To what?”

“To letting yourself be real.”

She didn’t know what to do with that. But it stuck.

Caitlin laughed more.

Not loudly. Not all the time. But more.

She started showing up for things.

A team dinner at Gabbie’s apartment where someone tried to cook and nearly set off the smoke alarm. A movie night where they all fell asleep before the second act. A Target run where she and Kate got into a whispered argument about cereal brands and resolved it by buying three boxes.

The girls noticed. But no one said anything.

Not directly.

Just more invitations. More space made at the table. More nudges during practice that felt like care and not criticism.

Kate didn’t say anything about it. She didn’t have to.

The next week, Caitlin wore one of Kate’s oversized flannels to team dinner. When McKenna burned the bread and Gabbie spilled salsa down her sleeve, Caitlin didn’t flinch.

She laughed. Real and loud.

After, when they were walking home, Kate bumped her shoulder and said, “You looked like you were having fun.”

“I think I was,” Caitlin whispered.

—---

On February 1 they played Indiana. Ranked Indiana. Physical. Relentless.

They lost again. 72–85.

Caitlin scored 30. She looked like herself. Sharp. Unstoppable. But Kate played one of her worst games of the year — couldn’t hit, couldn’t guard, fouled early.

Caitlin tried not to show it bothered her. But it did.

Not Kate — the helplessness. The fact that she could drop 30 and still walk out feeling like she’d failed.

In the locker room, no one spoke. On the plane, Kate curled against the window and Caitlin watched the reflection of her own jaw clench in the dark glass.

When they landed, Jan pulled her aside and said, “You’re not always going to save us.”

It didn’t feel like comfort. But she nodded anyway.

—------

They won easily at Minnesota.. 94–68.

Blowout. Easy. Fun.

Caitlin played loose — nothing historic, just clean. She chirped at refs, high-fived bench players, even did a fake euro-step just to make Jada laugh.

Kate hit four threes. Gabbie banked one in and screamed like they’d won the Final Four.

Kate slapped her ass after a timeout and Caitlin rolled her eyes so hard she almost missed Jan saying, “You’re finally breathing out there.”

Afterward, the team went out. Just a bar downtown with sticky floors and bad lights. Caitlin wore one of Kate’s flannels and stood at the edge of the crowd for most of the night, drink in hand, hips still.

But when “Mr. Brightside” came on and Jada pulled her into the middle, she didn’t fight it.

She danced. Terribly. Off-beat. A little stiff.

But she danced.

Kate watched from the corner. Smiling like she knew exactly how big that moment was.

And later, in bed, Caitlin whispered, “I felt happy tonight.”

Kate pulled her closer and said, “Good. You deserve to.”

—--------

“You’re carrying yourself differently,” Grayson said once, mid-session.

Caitlin looked down. “Am I?”

“You used to walk in like you were apologizing for taking up space.”

Caitlin laughed — short, hollow. “Still kind of feel like that.”

“But now you’re letting yourself stay.”

Kate noticed the shift, too. She didn’t name it. But Caitlin saw it in the way she looked at her — steadier. Like she wasn’t waiting for Caitlin to vanish anymore.

There were good days.

Days when Caitlin felt the difference in her body. The way her shoulders dropped half an inch when Kate was near. The way her throat didn’t tighten when she reached for her. The way she stopped bracing for everything to be taken back.

Days where she let her hair down. Literally. Days where she took up space. Where she teased Kate in the locker room and didn’t shrink back when the room got too quiet. Where she ate three slices of pizza and only hated herself for one of them.

A Tuesday where they walked back from pinkies brushing, swinging their arms like idiots.

A Friday night where they made popcorn in a skillet and set off the smoke detector and ended up laughing on the floor in their socks, coughing through the haze.

A Sunday where they didn’t speak much at all, just curled together on the couch, bodies quiet and easy.

And then one night — a nothing night, a ramen-and-quizlet night — Kate leaned in and said, out of nowhere, “You’re lighter.”

Caitlin blinked. “What?”

“Not weight. Just… you.”

And Caitlin didn’t know what to say.

So she kissed her instead.

—--

But not everything was soft.

There were bad days.

Days where she woke up hating her reflection. Days where she skipped breakfast and pretended she was just “not hungry.” Days where she flinched when Kate touched her too gently.

Some nights Caitlin still sat in the bathroom with the water running, trying to unknot the tightness in her chest without letting it spill.

Some mornings she stared at her reflection for too long and hated how solid she looked. How visible.

She didn’t always tell Kate.

Didn’t always tell Grayson, either.

But the difference now was — she thought about telling them.

That was new.

—------

Their redemption shot against Indiana at home didn’t land.

They lost again. 72–85.

Caitlin dropped another 30 — her third 30-piece in two weeks. But Kate was quiet. Rattled. Off.

The locker room was heavy. No one yelled. No one cried. Just undressed like they were trying not to wake something.

Caitlin took too long in the shower. Her head against the tile. Eyes closed.

Kate waited outside.

Didn’t ask. Just waited.

They walked home in silence. Shared a protein bar on the couch like it was dinner. And when Caitlin finally spoke, she said, “I hate that this is who I am when we lose.”

Kate squeezed her hand. “It’s not. It’s just where you go.”

On February 11 Caitlin scored 39 points. 10 rebounds. 9 assists. At Nebraska. They won. 88–81.

Her best game in weeks.

She looked like joy in motion. Like someone who remembered why she played.

In the final minute, she hit a step-back three and pointed straight at the bench. Kate stood up and smacked her own chest like she’d been punched.

After the game, Jan didn’t say much. Just clapped Caitlin once on the back and said, “That’s the kid I remember.”

But Caitlin didn’t feel like that kid.

She felt like herself.

They didn’t talk about that night. The birthday night. The bar. The kiss.

But it was there.

In the way Kate poured her coffee. In the way Caitlin stopped bracing for the touch that followed.

In the way she looked at her reflection and, just once, didn’t flinch.

In the way she let herself be loved.

Not perfectly.

But real.

—-------------------

February 13th was one of those gray Iowa afternoons where everything feels half-dimmed. Caitlin’s wearing an old Iowa pullover, sleeves tugged over her hands, hair tied back. No eye makeup today. Just chapstick and the soft flush of nerves.

There was a small dish of heart-shaped chocolates on the table near the door of Dr. Grayson’s office. Caitlin noticed it the second she walked in. She didn’t say anything.

Grayson opens the session like usual. A few check-ins. A gentle, unobtrusive rhythm. Caitlin sat like she always did — hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, ankle tucked under the opposite thigh, shoulders rounded like she could fold herself small enough to slip out of view.

“You seemed unsettled today.”

Caitlin shifts. Shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“How’s this week feeling for you?”

Caitlin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“It’s Valentine’s this week.”

Caitlin’s face didn’t change. But her breath hitched — just a little. Barely enough to notice. “It’s never really meant anything to me,” she said. “Just another day.”

Grayson nodded. “I’ve heard that before. But even if you’re not celebrating, the world around you tends to assume you’re supposed to feel something.”

Caitlin shrugged. “I guess.”

“And do you?” A long pause.

Then, softly: “I think I’ve spent most of my life trying not to.”

Grayson tilts her head. “Have you ever celebrated Valentine's day?”

That lands harder.

Caitlin hesitates. Her voice comes quieter. “Not really. It’s never felt like it was for me.”

“Because of your schedule?”

Caitlin shakes her head, but slowly. “Because of… a lot of things.” Finally, Caitlin says, “I think I always assumed it was something for other people. Girls who knew how to flirt. Who looked good in dresses. Who didn’t feel like they were always watching themselves from the outside.” She exhales, slowly. “I never really saw myself in any of it. I didn’t even know what I was missing. I just knew it felt like... a language I didn’t speak.”

Grayson tilts her head, just slightly. “Is it still that way?”

Caitlin lifts her eyes. Shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe not.” A longer pause.

Grayson folds her hands in her lap. Her voice is soft. Careful. “Do you have someone?”

Then Caitlin asks — sharp, quiet: “You don’t… tell anyone, right?”

Grayson doesn’t flinch. “No. Never. Not unless you tell me you’re planning to hurt yourself or someone else. And even then, we’d talk first.”

“Even if it’s about… something I haven’t told anyone?”

Grayson nods again. “Especially then.”

A long pause. Caitlin doesn’t move.

The room feels smaller. Or maybe she does. Like she’s folding in on herself, trying to disappear before the words betray her.

But then — finally — her voice comes. Small. Scraped raw. “Yeah, I do. Have someone…”

Grayson doesn’t jump in. Just lets the words settle. A moment passes.

Then, gently: “Do you feel safe with them?”

Caitlin nods, once. “Yes. More than anyone.”

Grayson tilts her head, reading the air between them. “Would it help to talk about them?”

“Her.” Caitlin flinches like she’s been caught. She flinches, instinctively — not from shame, but from exposure. Like she’s just said something dangerous out loud.

Grayson doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t rush to comfort or make it easier. She just stays there — grounded, steady, present.

Then, gently: “Say that again.”

Caitlin swallows. Her voice comes quieter. Truer.

“It’s a her.”

Grayson nods once, slow. “Thank you for telling me.”

Caitlin shakes her head immediately. “I don’t even know what that means, I just—she’s the only thing that feels real sometimes. And I hate that it’s this scary.” Caitlin swallows. Then, for the first time, lifts her eyes and says: “She makes me feel… like I can breathe.”

Grayson doesn’t react. Doesn’t blink. Just lets the words land. Caitlin blinks fast, once. Then looks down again.

“I haven’t said that out loud yet.”

“Said what?”

“Her,” Caitlin whispers. “That it’s a her.” She rubs the heel of her palm into her eye. She’s not crying — but she might. “I’ve known for a while. And she knew before I said anything. But this is the first time I’ve said it where someone could write it down.” Another silence. Not heavy — just full.

“What feels scary?”

“Everything,” Caitlin says. “Wanting her. Letting her see me. The fact that I’m saying this out loud and it’s not killing me.” Then Caitlin shakes her head, like she’s trying to clear it. “Sometimes I feel like there’s a version of me everyone’s already decided on. The brand. The role model. The All-American. And that version doesn’t get to say her.”

Grayson lets the moment breathe. “Do you want to be that version?”

“It’s terrifying,” Caitlin answered. “Because I’ve spent my whole life being a version of myself people are proud of. The version they can cheer for. Market. Put on a magazine cover. There’s a part of me that keeps waiting for someone to take it back. Like it’s a mistake. Like I’m living someone else’s life and eventually I’ll wake up and go back to being who I was supposed to be.”

“Who were you supposed to be?”

Caitlin laughs — bitter, breathless. “The safe version. The girl they can put on posters. The one with a boyfriend she doesn’t have to like.”

“And this version?”

“This version is gay. And scared. And messy. And in love.”

Grayson lets that sit.

“Have you ever said that last part before?”

“Only to her.” Grayson nods.

“Does she love you back?”

“Yeah.”

Then asks the question Caitlin’s been avoiding: “So why are you afraid?”

Caitlin opens her eyes. Her voice cracks. “Because if I let this be real, it might break everything else.”

“What does ‘everything else’ mean?”

“Basketball. My family. What people think of me. Who I’m allowed to be.” She sucks in a sharp breath.

Grayson stays quiet. Lets it land. “You’re doing something brave,” she says. “Not because you’re gay. Not because you’re in love. Because you’re letting go of the version of yourself that made other people comfortable.”

“I hate that I’m scared. Because being with her doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel like something I should have to hide.”

Grayson breathes in once, then asks: “What would it mean to keep saying it? ‘Her’?”

Caitlin looks at her. Voice shaking: “It would mean I stop pretending. Stop splitting myself into pieces. Stop wondering if love only counts if it looks a certain way.”

“And how would that feel?”

“Terrifying.”

A beat.

“Free.”

Grayson gives a small nod. “That’s often the pairing.”

Silence stretches. Grayson paused. Measured. Then: “Can I ask you something else?”

Caitlin almost smiled. “Isn’t that the deal?”

“It is. And you can always say no.” Grayson paused. “Have you and she… been physically intimate?”

For a second, Caitlin didn’t move. Her hands folded tighter in her lap. Her shoulders curled in like she was trying to brace for the question’s weight.

Grayson’s tone stayed level. “You don’t have to answer.”

Caitlin shook her head. “No — I want to.” A breath. “And yeah. We have.”

Grayson nodded. Not surprised. Not intrusive. Just steady.

Caitlin swallowed hard, like something bigger was still caught in her throat. “Why does that matter?”

Grayson met her eyes. Kind, unflinching. “Because it lives in your body. And most of what we’ve talked about... has been how you leave it.”

That landed. Caitlin looked up. Not angry — just struck. Grayson waited. “What was it like?” she asked, carefully. “Not the act. The experience.”

Caitlin looked away. Her voice came quiet. “It felt like I didn’t have to prove anything…. Like my body wasn’t a thing I had to explain.”

Grayson nodded.

“Do you want to keep going?”

Caitlin did. She just needed a second.

“It’s hard to… slow down sometimes,” she said. “I’ve been so used to thinking of intimacy as something I have to manage. Like a task. Like—make it good for them. Make it clean. Make it convincing.”

Grayson gave her a beat. Then said, carefully, “Do you remember what you told me you wanted — without having to earn it?”

Caitlin’s head lifted. Barely.

Grayson held her eyes there. Same spot. “You said you wanted to be fucked.”

That landed like a drop in still water. No judgment. No embellishment. Just the truth, returned to its source.

Caitlin blinked. Not in shame — in recognition. Like hearing the words back made them heavier. More real. Her breath caught, chest tight.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That was… kind of a lot.”

“It was honest,” Grayson said, gently. “And not a thing to apologize for.”

Caitlin swallowed. Her hands were twisting in her lap now. “I think I was talking about her. I didn’t know it at the time. Or maybe I did.”

Grayson gave her space. “And now?”

“Now I know.”

Grayson stayed gentle. “What do you think that could mean — when you said that, then?”

Caitlin fidgeted with the cuff of her sleeve.

“I meant…” Her voice faltered. Then returned. “I meant I wanted to be wanted without calculation. Without paying for it in performance. I meant I wanted to be in my body without apology.”

“And were you?”

“Yeah. For the first time.”

“And?”

Caitlin laughed under her breath, voice brittle.

“It undid me.”

“Do you want to tell me what that means?”

“She went down on me,” Caitlin said. “And I didn’t stop her. I didn’t say ‘your turn.’ I didn’t move to do something back. I just… stayed.” Her voice dropped. “It was the first time I let someone love me without giving them something to hold onto in return.”

“And how does that feel?”

“It scared me. Because I didn’t know I could feel good without wondering what I was supposed to do next.”

“Caitlin,” Grayson said softly. “Can I ask you something a little more direct?”

Caitlin nodded. Cautious, but open. “Okay.”

“Can I ask — have you been able to let go with her? Fully? To the point of orgasm?”

Caitlin didn’t flinch. She just exhaled — slow, measured — like the question hadn’t startled her, but touched something she hadn’t fully let herself consider out loud.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “A few times now.”

Grayson paused. “Thank you for trusting me with that.” No judgment. Just presence.

“It was Intense,” she said. “Good, obviously. But also… huge.”

“In what way?”

“Like something cracked open. Like I didn’t know I was allowed to feel that much in front of someone else. Like my body did something without asking permission first.”

“Did it scare you?”

“Scare me?”

“When you’re with her… when you’re really with her... is it hard for you to let go?”

Caitlin nodded. “Yeah. But not in a bad way. In a… ‘what the hell just happened to me’ way.” “I didn’t know something that good could feel that emotional,” she said. “Like I’d unlocked something I wasn’t sure I could hold.”

“And did she stay with you, in it?”

Caitlin nodded. “She held me. She didn’t ask questions. She just… stayed.”

“And how did that feel?”

“Like safety,” Caitlin whispered. “Like… maybe I’m not broken. Just… unfinished.”

“Can you tell me more?” Grayson asked. “About what that moment feels like, inside you?”

Caitlin swallowed. “It’s like my whole body forgets the rules.”

“And what are the rules?”

“Don’t be loud. Don’t lose control. Don’t need too much. Don’t want anything you can’t explain.”

“And what happens when you break them?”

Caitlin’s jaw worked. “I feel like I’m losing something I didn’t realize I’d been clenching for years.”

Grayson let that echo for a beat.

“Did you trust her in that moment?”

“Completely.”

“So what made it overwhelming?”

She took a long pause. Then said: “Because it was the first time I stopped trying to deserve it. I wasn’t focused on making it good for her. I wasn’t thinking about how I looked. Or what noises I made. Or if I was doing too much. I just… felt.”

“And afterward?”

“I waited for the shame.”

Grayson asked, “Did it come?”

“I cried.” Grayson’s expression didn’t shift.

“What came up?”

“Everything,” Caitlin said. “Like my body remembered every time I’d ignored it. Or treated it like a machine. Or only let it feel if I was giving something back.”

“And that release—was it healing?”

Caitlin blinked fast. “It felt like grief.”

“Orgasm, for a lot of people who’ve lived with control for a long time, doesn’t just feel good.” Grayson continued, not as explanation — as truth: “Because it asks your body to do the thing you’ve spent your whole life trying not to do — let go.” “And when you finally do, it’s not just about the pleasure. It’s about everything that’s been locked behind it.” Grayson waited.

“The body remembers. And when it finally gets the chance to speak, it doesn’t just whisper. It wails.”

Caitlin’s voice cracked. “Why does something that good make me feel so exposed?”

Grayson looked at her, soft and unsparing. “Because it’s the first time your body told the truth… and you didn’t interrupt it.”

Caitlin’s voice shook. “Most of my life, my body’s been this tool. This engine. Something to keep tight. Strong. Useful. Something to market. Something to measure. Something to fix.” She wiped under her eye. “And then with her… I just get to be.”

“I’m glad you shared that.” Caitlin gave a faint nod, like she wasn’t sure what came next. Grayson continued. “I want you to understand something. What you’re describing — the way you’ve been touched, the way you’ve felt safe, the way you’ve taken up space in your own body — none of that exists in isolation.”

Caitlin looked up.

“Your body isn’t separate from your mind. Your shame. Your worth. They’re not disconnected. They feed each other.” Another pause. Caitlin didn’t speak, but she was listening now — fully. “When you deny yourself touch, or rest, or care — when you only perform and never allow yourself to receive care— it’s not just your body that remembers that. It’s your whole self.”

She let that land.

“And the same is true when you let yourself be wanted. When you say yes. When you let someone see you — not just on a screen, not just on a court, but really see you — that changes something, too. It builds something.”

Caitlin blinked like her chest was tight.

Grayson didn’t ease up — not harsh, but deliberate.“You’ve spent most of your life being someone people could celebrate. Someone useful. Efficient. Impressive. But Caitlin — you weren’t born to be a brand.” Caitlin flinched. Not because she disagreed. But because it hit somewhere too close to the center. “I need you to start asking — who are you when no one is watching?” “Who are you, Caitlin,” Grayson asked, “when the only person left in the room is you?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin said. “That’s what scares me.”

“You’re a person. You’re a woman. You’re a body that deserves to feel — not perform. Not earn. Feel.”

Caitlin let out a shaky breath. One hand pressed to her ribs, like she was trying to hold herself still.

“You’ve built an entire life on being safe. Desirable, but not too much. Dominant, but likable. A leader, but always in control…. But the real you? The one who felt everything when she said yes? The one who let herself be touched without calculating what it cost — that version of you matters more than the one anyone else thinks they love.”

Caitlin looked down, voice cracking:

“It’s easier not to be her.”

“I believe you,” Grayson said. “But it’s lonelier too.”

Then says, like it costs something:

“I love her.”

Grayson exhales like she’s been holding that breath with her.

“That’s yours.”

And Caitlin nods.

“God. That was so scary.”

“But you did it.”

“Yeah.”

—---------

Later that night, Caitlin sat cross-legged on Kate’s bed, fingers absently tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve. Kate was finishing something on her laptop, half-watching her, already sensing the shift in the air.

“I talked about you today,” Caitlin said, eyes still on her hands.

Kate looked up. “In therapy?”

Kate blinked, surprised. “You talked about me?”

Caitlin nodded. “Not by name. Just… you.”

“What’d you say?”

A beat. “That you make me feel like I can breathe,” Caitlin said, voice quieter than before. “That you’re the safest thing I’ve ever had. And that it scares the shit out of me.”

Kate didn’t speak right away. Just reached out, thumb brushing the edge of Caitlin’s sleeve.

“Thank you.” Then, almost under her breath, like she didn’t mean to say it out loud: “I’m proud of you.”

Caitlin looked up. That fast, startled kind of look, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard it right.

But Kate didn’t take it back. “I am,” she said again. “For saying it. For being brave. For not running from it, even when it’s hard.”

Caitlin blinked hard. Kate leaned forward, forehead nearly touching hers. “You don’t have to be perfect for me to be proud.”

And Caitlin didn’t answer — not out loud.

But her breath stuttered once.

And she didn’t pull away.

—-------------------

Kate didn’t do Valentine’s Day. Not really. Not normally. Too much expectation. Too many people pretending not to want anything and being gutted when they didn’t get it.

But this was different. Caitlin was different.

Caitlin was different because she didn’t know how to ask for gentleness. But when you gave it to her, she crumbled like she’d been waiting for it her whole life.

And Kate really wanted to give her that.

She planned the whole thing in her head a dozen times before she moved a single pillow. Not because she was nervous — okay, maybe a little — but because she wanted it to land just right. Not flashy. Not over-the-top. Just them.

It took her two hours to set up the apartment. She pushed the coffee table aside, laid down the softest blanket they had, and stacked every pillow from both their beds into a makeshift couch. Then came the fairy lights — taped across the ceiling in a zigzag that made her laugh halfway through because it looked a little chaotic, a little too much. But she kept them. Caitlin liked things a little messy.

She borrowed a projector from a grad student who owed her a favor. Queued up the drive-in movie Caitlin had once offhandedly mentioned loving — something with a stupid name and a happy ending. She ordered takeout from three different places because Caitlin could never decide on one thing. She bought Twizzlers. And the stupid sparkling lemonade she always made fun of but always drank…

It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

The apartment smelled like Thai, Mexican, and burgers all at once, and candle wax by the time Caitlin knocked.

Kate opened the door and watched her take it in — the blanket spread on the floor, the twinkle lights taped clumsily to the ceiling, the playlist she’d queued but was too embarrassed to press play on. Caitlin stepped inside, eyes sweeping the room. Her mouth parted just slightly. “Did you do all this?”

Kate scratched the back of her neck. “It’s dumb. I just thought—”

Caitlin kissed her before she could finish.

A quick one, just enough to knock the air out of Kate’s lungs. Then another. And another, slower. Kate felt Caitlin smile against her mouth.

When they pulled apart, Caitlin whispered, “You’re such a softie.”

Kate groaned. “Don’t make it weird.”

But she was grinning. Bright and a little shy. Like a secret had just been let loose. “I love it,” she whispered.

They sat on the blanket. Ate Thai food straight from the containers. Played a game where they muted the movie and tried to guess the plot from body language alone. Caitlin guessed wrong every time. Kate didn’t care.

And Kate couldn’t stop watching her. Couldn’t stop noticing all the small ways Caitlin let herself relax — the untied hoodie, the laughter that came easily, the way her legs stayed pressed against Kate’s like she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

This — all of it — meant more to Kate than she’d let on.

Because she didn’t usually let herself plan things like this. Not because she didn’t care, but because caring out loud was risky. Being the one who showed up first — with the movie night, the pillows, the I picked this for you — that was always the part that hurt when people left.

But Caitlin wasn’t leaving.

Later, when the movie had ended and Caitlin’s head rested on her shoulder — heavy, warm, real — Kate turned slightly. She let herself watch her. The way her lashes brushed her cheeks, the way her fingers curled in the edge of the blanket like she needed an anchor.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked, voice low.

Caitlin didn’t move. “Yeah.”

“I was really fucking excited when you said you talked about me,” Kate said, trying not to rush. “I didn’t say anything yesterday, but… I’ve been waiting to be known like that. By you.”

Caitlin lifted her head. “You are.”

Kate swallowed, throat thick. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For naming me. For not hiding me. I know what that costs.”

Caitlin’s eyes didn’t move. “I wanted to.”

Kate nodded once, then again — like maybe, if she stopped, the courage would crack.

A beat passed. And then she said it. Quietly. Carefully. Like it had taken years to form:

“I want to share something with you tonight.” She felt the words pulse through her — not bold, not rehearsed. True. “Not because I owe you. Not because you asked. Because I trust you. And because I want to stop holding myself back.”

Caitlin froze — not from fear, not from uncertainty. From reverence. From knowing exactly what this was.

Kate kept going — not fast, but forward. “I’ve given a lot of myself to people who never really saw me. And I’ve spent a long time making sure no one ever got too close. I thought if I kept control, I’d be safe.” She paused. “But I want you to see me. I want to let go. I want to feel something without flinching.”

And Caitlin—bless her, brave and bright and new to this—had whispered, “Then let me.”

They moved together in the soft spill of fairy lights and blanket folds, the remains of Thai food and movie laughter still lingering in the air. It was quiet now. The kind of quiet you could feel — sacred, electrified, full of breath that didn’t know where to go.

Now Kate lay back on the soft sprawl of pillows and blankets, breath shallow, muscles coiled tight beneath Caitlin’s hands. Her shirt was gone. So was her armor.

Caitlin kissed her gently at first. Hands braced on either side of Kate’s face, like she wanted her steady. Like she wanted to be sure.

Kate leaned into it, into her, grounding herself in the weight of Caitlin’s palm against her cheek. Then Caitlin whispered, voice low and shaking but sure: “I want to make you feel good tonight.”

Kate blinked. Her breath caught.

“I want to take care of you,” Caitlin said, softer this time. “Can I?”

And Kate almost cried.

Because no one had ever asked her like that before — not with gentleness, not with patience, not without the expectation that she'd flip the switch and take over again. She’d spent so long giving, guiding, holding everything steady. She didn’t know how to be held without flinching.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then again, louder. “Yes. Please.”

Caitlin kissed her like she meant it. Not like before — not just sweet or teasing or soft around the edges — but like something in her had finally tipped. Like she’d made a decision and didn’t want to waste a single second walking it back.

Caitlin climbed between her legs with deliberate slowness, her hands reverent, her eyes full of fire and care. She kissed Kate’s stomach first—then lower. Then lower. Her hands skated across Kate’s stomach — thumbs grazing skin like they were reading a story there. She pressed a kiss just below her ribs. Then another. Then lower.

Kate gasped, her hips twitching once. Reflexive. A warning bell in her ribs.

Caitlin paused. “Okay?” she asked, lips barely brushing her skin.

Kate nodded. “Just… don’t rush. I need…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know,” Caitlin said. And Kate believed her.

When Caitlin pulled her boxers down, it wasn’t just undressing. It was peeling back years of performance. Of giving. Of pretending it didn’t matter that she never let anyone stay.

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed. “You’re beautiful,” Caitlin said. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t coaxing. It was a fact.

Kate’s chest rose. Fell. Rose again. She laughed — short, sharp. “Still want to?”

Caitlin looked up, eyes blazing. “I want to die down here.”

Kate’s laugh broke into a gasp when Caitlin kissed the inside of her thigh, tongue dragging slow and wet up the seam.

“Holy shit—”

“Teach me,” Caitlin whispered. “Tell me what feels good,” she said, voice quiet but clear. “What you like. What you need.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Not of you. Just… of letting go.” Kate felt it in the way her hands framed her face. The way her breath trembled between them. The way her thigh pressed between Kate’s legs was like a question already answered.

Caitlin kissed the inside of her thigh, slow and deliberate, and said, “Tell me what you need.” Kate exhaled hard. “Talk me through it,” Caitlin added softly. “I want to do this right.”

And she did.

Kate lay on her back, breath shallow, eyes wide open. Caitlin her like she wasn’t rushing toward anything — like the kiss was the point. The wanting was the point. Her lips brushed over Kate’s collarbone, then lower, then lower still, until Kate’s breath stuttered out of her in a soft gasp.

Every time she tensed, Caitlin paused.

Every time she started to rise up and offer something back, Caitlin said, gently, “Let me.”

And Kate listened.

Caitlin touched her like she wasn’t asking for anything in return. She kissed every inch of her like she was allowed to. Like Kate’s pleasure wasn’t a transaction — it was a right.

“I want to go down on you,” Caitlin said. Clear. Sure. “Not because I think I should. Not because I want anything back. Because I need to know what it’s like to make you come.”

Kate didn’t usually let herself be touched like that. Not with intention. Not like it meant something. But this wasn’t a hookup in someone else’s bed. This wasn’t a sweaty dorm room with too much vodka and a girl who didn’t ask questions. This was Caitlin. Focused. Steady. Fierce with want, trembling with purpose. And she was looking at Kate like she wanted to learn her — not own her, not use her — learn her.

Kate froze — not from doubt, but from how much she felt in that moment. The air shifted.

“You’ve never—” she started.

Caitlin shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

Kate’s heart flipped. “You sure?”

Caitlin’s hands slid over her hips, slow and certain. “Can you talk me through this?” she whispered, voice hoarse. “Tell me where. Tell me how.” Her voice was hoarse. “I want to do this right.”

Kate heard it — not just the nerves, but the need. Not just to do it right, but to do it with her. Together. A gift, not a task. A step forward, not a test. Kate reached down, brushed a strand of hair out of Caitlin’s face. “There’s no wrong way,” she said, breath trembling. “Just listen to me. And stay with me.”

Caitlin nodded. “Always.”

Kate’s chest ached. She reached down, threaded trembling fingers through Caitlin’s hair, and whispered, “Start soft. Use your tongue. Let me feel it build.”

The first lick was tentative. Gentle. A feather dragged across skin that had only ever tensed under touch.

Kate gasped. Her hips jolted. Not from pleasure. From how much it almost was.

The first touch of her tongue was light. Careful. Exploratory. “You’re doing perfect,” Kate whispered, voice rough. “Don’t be afraid to use your tongue… My clit. Flatten it. Lick up. Then down. Then—”

Caitlin obeyed. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t fumble. She just stayed there, breathing against her, tongue pressing again, slightly firmer now.

Kate screamed. “Jesus fucking Christ—”

Caitlin licked again, bolder now, tongue firm. She adjusted when Kate’s hips twitched. She listened. She watched. And Kate was already shaking. She kept going. Slow. Patient. Listening with her mouth, her hands, her whole body.

Kate bit down on her knuckle. Her hips twitched again, but she didn’t pull away.

Caitlin looked up. “Still okay?”

“Yeah,” Kate whispered. “Don’t stop. Just… don’t stop.”

She couldn’t come. Not yet. Her body didn’t let her. But she felt herself approaching. Hovering. Tingling at the edge of something terrifyingly soft.

Caitlin flattened her tongue and licked up again—slow, strong, steady.

Kate cursed. Loud. Her thighs clamped around Caitlin’s shoulders for a second before she forced them to relax.

“You’re shaking,” Caitlin said, voice low against her.

“I always do,” Kate breathed. “It doesn’t mean stop.”

Caitlin kissed the inside of her thigh again, grounding her. “I’ve got you.”

Kate groaned. “Jesus, Caitlin—keep doing that—”

She did.

Every flick of her tongue was careful but not timid. She wasn’t teasing—she was learning. Mapping Kate’s reactions like they were gospel. The way her hips tilted. The way she gasped when Caitlin circled her clit just right. The way her fingers trembled against the blanket like she wanted to claw her way through the floor.

Caitlin found a rhythm. Steady, smooth, almost reverent. She moaned against her, and the vibration made Kate curse loud and grab the pillow behind her head like she might fall through the mattress.

Kate reached for her hand. “You’re doing so good, babe. Keep going. Don’t overthink it — just listen to what makes me move.”

And Caitlin watched her — every sigh, every gasp, every twitch of her hips. She followed instinct, followed need, followed Kate’s body like it was a guide and a gift.

“God—Caitlin—yes—fuck, I’m gonna—” She was too sensitive. Too aware. Every nerve ending wired for high alert, but for once, no danger came. Only Caitlin. Only care.

Caitlin slid a hand under her thigh and lifted her leg over her shoulder, deeper now, tongue insistent. Open. Endless. Like she wanted to drown in her.

Kate moaned again, more desperate now, not because she was close, but because she wanted to be.

She tried to stay quiet. Tried not to come too fast. Tried to hold it back because it was Caitlin’s first time. Her hips were trembling now.

She failed completely.

“Fuck— Caitlin—don’t you dare stop— I’m right—I’m—”

And Caitlin didn’t.

She kept her mouth open, let her tongue move in long, wet strokes, then shorter flicks that made Kate cry out. She moaned into her — not from performance, but from feeling.

Not from proximity to release — not yet — but from everything coiled inside her. Years of control. Years of giving. Years of never letting go. Her thighs shook against Caitlin’s shoulders as her breath hitched for the tenth time, body climbing toward a ledge she wasn’t sure she’d ever reached before.

She stayed low. Firm. Gentle. Then firm again.

Tongue flat. Then slow circles. Then up, up, right there—

Kate gasped. “Fuck—Caitlin—”

She arched, one hand flying to the headboard, the other tangling in Caitlin’s hair. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—I’m so fucking close—”

Caitlin moaned into her, lips parting wider, tongue flattening again, and that vibration—that sound—made Kate’s hips snap forward with a ragged cry.

Something cracked open.

“I—Jesus, fuck—” Her body lurched. One thigh spasmed. Her head dropped back.

Caitlin didn’t ease up. She adjusted instead. Matched her pace to Kate’s rhythm. Let her grind forward, ride the edge, teeter there.

And Kate started to fall.

Not a neat fall. A collapse.

“Oh my god—”

It wasn’t even an orgasm yet — it was the terrifying fact of knowing that it was going to happen. That she couldn’t stop it this time. That she didn’t want to.

That Caitlin was going to break her.

She didn’t even realize she was saying it aloud until her voice cracked on, “I can’t—I can’t—oh my god—I’m coming—”

Her whole body snapped tight.

She came hard — without warning, without apology, without holding anything back. Her thighs locked. Her stomach convulsed. Her hand gripped the back of Caitlin’s head like she might float off the fucking earth if she didn’t hold on.

She tipped over the edge like she’d been shoved. Her whole body curled — taut, trembling, undone. She came hard, hips rocking up, mouth open around a strangled sound. She shattered — loud, unguarded, soaked in heat and reverence. Her whole body curled, hips lifting, breath catching on the rise and fall of something that had always been just out of reach.

And Caitlin stayed with her.

She moaned into her like she was starved for it. Held her hips down. Let her grind forward. Let her take. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t stop.

Kate’s voice broke. Her body shuddered. Her orgasm ripped through her in waves, each one sharper than the last, building until she thought she might scream—or disintegrate.

And she did scream. Not loud. But raw.

“*Fuck—Caitlin—yes—yes—*don’t—*don’t stop—*please—”

Caitlin devoured her.

Kate broke open.

She wailed into the air and came again, a second time, smaller but sharper, like the first had yanked the lock loose and the second flooded everything after.

She curled. She gasped. Her voice cracked. Her thighs wouldn’t stop shaking.

She wasn’t sure where her hands were.

She wasn’t sure who she was.

And Caitlin didn’t leave.

Not for a second.

She kissed the inside of her thigh, the space just above her pubic bone, then crawled up her body slowly, hands warm, lips gentler now.

Kate’s eyes were glassy. Her mouth stayed open like she hadn’t remembered how to close it.

“You—” she breathed. “You—*fuck—*you’re mine.”

Caitlin smiled, mouth swollen, eyes wide.

Kate laughed — broken and breathless. “You’re not allowed to be that good on your first try.”

Caitlin blinked. “Was it good?”

Kate turned, caught her mouth in a kiss that felt like a promise. “It was perfect. You wrecked me.”

And then she laughed. Not a soft laugh. A destroyed, stunned, gut-deep laugh that broke her wide open again.

“I didn’t think I could do that,” she whispered. “Not like that. Not ever.”

Caitlin kissed her again. “You did.”

Kate shook her head. “You did. You—you fucking took me apart.”

And Caitlin, smug but reverent, said softly, “I wanted to.”

Kate curled her body around her like a blanket, breath still ragged, thighs still twitching.

And for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel ashamed for needing. For being loud. For coming so hard she couldn’t see straight.

She just felt held.

And loved.

And real.

Kate didn’t have words for what had just happened. Not yet.

But she knew what it wasn’t. It wasn’t her being strong. It wasn’t her being in charge. It wasn’t her performing what someone else needed. It was hers. All of it. For once, it wasn’t about what she gave.

It was about what she let herself receive.

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justsleepybeans · 1 day ago

Text

𝗩𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮 𝗧𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader(Y/n)

Story Notes: Reader is half-celestial, half-human. Adam is irrevocably obsessed. Yearning!!

Author Notes: I love Adam too much NOT to write about him. Bro needs to be buffed in MR tho. I listened to this while writing and proofreading! Def recommend for reading! Ambience Vid <-Link

Word Count: 7,746

—☆ KNOWHERE

The Kree were relentless but too cocky for their own good. You had just finished destroying the last fleet, their mission being to wipe out the existence of the harmless Utarians. You would've rather been at your favorite club in Contraxia but happened to be flying by when you saw the chaos. Peter had called in the middle of it all, his voice cutting out multiple times.

"Well, I think it would be nice if you joined us! It was your favorite holiday back on Earth, wasn't it?" he had asked with far too much enthusiasm for your liking. Halloween. Of course, he would know, considering you had shared that fact with him when you were "abducted" by Yondu and his crew off Earth, which was around the time you had found out you weren't just human.

Since then, Peter had been like a brother, except when he flirted horrendously with you in your mid-teens, which obviously didn't work out. Even though you didn't see each other much anymore, not after the Guardians formed, you two would still pick each other's favorite holidays and celebrate, his being Christmas, and yours? Halloween.

"(Y/n!)," Peter calls out your name as he walks towards you. Behind him is Gamora, and at her side, Mantis. However, there was someone else trailing behind them. A…golden man? You have seen many species in these galaxies, but none like him.

"Hi, Peter. Gamora. Mantis." you greet them all politely, giving an awkward little wave. The golden man steps forward, though he doesn't extend his hand. He stands there, closer now, and his chest is just a little more puffed out.

"I am Adam Warlock. We have not met."

"Clearly, we haven't. I'm-"

“(Y/n), yes. Peter spoke of you. He described you in precise detail." You look at Peter, giving him that 'the hell did you say about me' look. He puts his hands up in defense and promises it's nothing bad.

After a short debriefing between you and the girls, the four of you head into the center of Knowhere, where the Guardians live, and most things happen. The place seemed disjointed, colorful, and highly diverse amongst its citizens. Though, what you notice the most is the vast array of mismatched Halloween decorations. There were children of all kinds going around and ringing doorbells, knocking on doors, and then receiving some interesting-looking treats.

"So, you brought Halloween to Knowhere.", you say to Peter as you watch two kids fight over some tentacle-looking thing.

"Ah yeah, you know. It'd be nice to bring the culture. Plus, a way of getting to see you for once."

You smile at that, a feeling of admiration for Peter's thoughtfulness. However, all this Halloween stuff has you thinking of one thing. "Twizzlers?"

Peter raises his hand as if to stop you from speaking further. "Already done. When we went to Earth, we picked up plenty of candy and took loads of decorations."

"Wait…you took all of this? Peter, you can't just do that."

Peter shrugs, brushing your scolding off. "I'm just borrowing it."

—☆ FIRST SECOND ENCOUNTER

You've settled in your room, one of the many in the complex where the Guardians and others live. While laying down clothes you'd wear tonight for the "Halloween Party", you hear a soft knock on your door, followed by a slightly familiar deep voice.

"It's Adam."

The Warlock. Or Adam, so he's called, a name you'd find out he adopted. It suits him, you think. Setting down a pair of tights on the bed, you open the door. You're almost his height, so you don't have to look up much, though up close, you notice his eyes more. They're not exactly white, but a pale yellow, maybe light gold. The lack of pupils and complete coloring in his sclera should be unsettling, but you find it oddly...comforting.

"Hi. Adam. Do you need anything?"

“(Y/n)…I am...deeply attracted to you. I am certain I've felt a pull the moment you reached this galaxy. Then, when you came here, it became stronger than ever before. That's when I confirmed that it had to be you. It's a magnetism, and I cannot stay away longer. Allow me to court you."

Oh. Well…that is very direct.

“Oh…I…” You were left without words for a moment because how does one even respond to that from someone they met this morning? Was he sure that it was you? He's being ridiculous, you think, but the thought of entertaining this, whatever this is, was ever so tempting.

"I sense hesitation."

You shift your weight to your right side and tilt your head curiously. "Right, well, I did just meet you."

"Yes, I am aware."

You huff, somewhat annoyed but also amused. "Listen…whatever it is that you're feeling…I don't feel that. "

"Surely you must. I feel your celestial energy practically radiating off-"

"How do you know that." you interrupt him. He gives you a look that could only be described as confusion.

"I sense it. I am a cosmic being, (Y/n)."

"You're technically human," you argue.

"Perhaps—but I am far from any human. I was created with cosmic power," Adam takes a step closer, his eyes boring into yours like a hawk. "Allow me to court you."

"Stop saying that…feels like I'm in the Medieval times."

"Medieval times?"

Of course, he wouldn't know about that. "Nevermind. Just… that's now how things work, okay? Listen, I gotta start preparing for Peter's Halloween thing, so…"

"Right. Yes. The party. Very well, (Y/n). I hope you have time to…think about what I said."

"Mhm. I'll see you around."

With that, Adam gives you a slight nod, then walks off, his posture slightly less upright than usual. You watch him as he walks off and think to yourself, what if you say yes? What's the worst that could happen? A cosmic and celestial being coming together…surely nothing bad.

—☆ THE PARTY

You weren't wearing a costume.

Being invited on the day of a Halloween party, which doesn't even align with Earth's Halloween, would make it pretty damn hard to prepare a costume. Currently, it's October 28th on Earth, but close enough, right?

You carry a variety of clothes on your ship for all occasions, but not for a Halloween party. With a sigh, you smooth down the side of your red dress as you step into the center hall of one of the many buildings in Knowhere. This one was on the outskirts of the city and had a bar. The color of your dress matches your tights, deep and blood-warm, clinging like a second skin. It was the most Halloween-esque thing you could pull out.

The music was a mixture of strange tunes you hadn't heard before and some Earth songs you assumed came from Peter's tapes. You remember sharing an earbud with him and listening shoulder to shoulder on Yondu's ship. The crowds buzzed with sugar highs and very spiked drinks, beings of all kinds dancing without much rhythm, and the decorations glowed a little too bright for your liking as if a Spirit Halloween had blown up.

You scanned the place, finding Peter almost instantly, dual-wielding candy bowls and passing out the sweets while talking about famous horror movie slashers, who the citizens of Knowhere believed to be real people from how they were reacting. Mantis waved dramatically across the way, her cute buggy eyes locked on yours. Gamora was trying to keep Peter from falling on his ass, while Rocket was nowhere to be found, most likely on his usual antics with Groot. Drax seemed asleep, his head on the bar countertop, surrounded by a handful of empty bottles. And then—

There he was.

Adam.

Leaning against the wall like he had been carved there—perfect human and all. You may have turned down his advances, but you couldn't deny that he is, in fact, attractive. His expression is unreadable, as usual, and you notice he has no costume. He was still looking at you like he did earlier as if you were the only thing in this galaxy worth orbiting.

You reached for the table beside you, grabbed the nearest drink — bright neon green, fizzing, definitely alcoholic — and pretended not to notice him.

Didn't work.

He was already moving before you could take a second sip, golden eyes fixed, posture straight like he'd been waiting for a cue. He stopped in front of you. Too close, you think. Not close enough, you feel.

"(Y/n)," he said, voice low and smooth, "You didn't dress up."

"Neither did you."

"I didn't need to." Of course, he didn't.

You take another sip, eyes on him now. "You're staring."

"Perhaps I am."

There's a pause, though not awkward, but electric. Adam wasn't hiding it — the way he looked at you like he was trying to memorize every minuscule detail, though he never did hide it in the first place. Not once. It should've been unsettling, but somehow, it wasn't.

"You look..." He pauses, eyes trailing down your length, slow and deliberate. "Dangerous."

"Oh." You couldn't help the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

Then, his voice quiet, as if he didn't want the crowd to hear, "Are you avoiding me, (Y/n)?"

After what happened earlier? Oh, you should've been, but no, you weren't...at least, not intentionally. Taking a deep breath, you look around before speaking up. "I'm gonna...go see how Peter's holding up."

You drifted, dancing near the edges of groups, getting pulled into half-hearted conversations with half-sober Ravagers and aliens in glittery face paint. But Adam was always there—watching without pressing, standing just far enough to give you space. Your drink was gone now, traded for a lollypop someone shoved into your hand with a slurred "Happy Humanween." Humanween? You didn't eat it, preferring your promised Twizzlers, which were nowhere to be seen. Instead, you rolled the stick between your fingers and your mind elsewhere. Still aware of him.

Then Peter—bless his drunk, clumsy soul—came barreling in out of nowhere, arms wide and voice loud, a bottle in one hand, and absolutely no concept of personal space, as usual.

"(Y/n)!" he called like he hadn't seen you some hours ago. His shoulder caught yours mid-spin, not hard, but enough to send you slightly off balance, your heel catching on the edge of the floor panel.

You were falling—until you weren't.

A hand wrapped around your upper arm, firm and warmer than others. Another gently caught your waist, steady and grounding.

Adam.

The contact wasn't much. Two hands, a beat of closeness, but it was enough. Too much.

It felt like something clicked, as if a thread snapped into place between your body and his, humming. Loud. Burning. Almost overbearing. You inhaled, chest still against his as you blinked at him, confused—for the first time— not by him, but by you.

Because you felt it. Whatever he had been talking about outside your room, all that talk of a magnetic pull, cosmic alignment—you felt it now, you think. It hit you fast and bright, like a fucking supernova, and far too much all at once.

You moved back quickly. Not dramatically. Okay...maybe a bit dramatic, but it was enough to break the contact. Adam's hands dropped, and though it wasn't visible, the imprint stayed. You could feel it.

"I—Peter's drunk," you used as an excuse to leave.

Adam's expression didn't change. But something in his eyes did. Softer. Knowing. He didn't have to say I told you so. He didn't even say anything at all.

He didn't have to because he knows you felt it. And worse? You know it, too.

Still—you wouldn't admit it. Not out loud. Not to him.

So you straightened your dress, fixed your hair like nothing happened, and pretended your heart wasn't beating inside your throat.

Adam said nothing, simply watching you with that same quiet hunger.

—☆ SUPERNOVA (5 Months Later)

It wasn't supposed to go this way. The mission was simple enough—answer the distress call of the Valturians and help out in whatever way was needed. You decided to tag along with the Guardians to help after Rocket bugged you about being a valuable asset. He also tried convincing you to join the Guardians, which you refused, and he may have tried to buy off your ship.

Though, you really wish you hadn't come.

Multiple fleets of the Kree appeared—a species you didn't exactly hate but were very annoyed with. However, a massive ship came out of hyperspace this time along with the fleet, sitting just above the atmosphere of Valtur. A loud voice boomed from the ship, practically shaking the ground.

"I hoped you would come, (Y/n). My men have been watching you. You didn't think that your destruction upon my fleet the other day would result in no punishment, did you?"

It was Al-Null—the leader who had stepped up to replace Ronan, The Accuser.

"I guess that's what happens when your cowardly ass ain't there with your men. I mean, come on, did you watch from your little jerk-off corner? Because listen, if you get off on that stuff, I'd say you need some therapy, buddy." The insult was very Peter-coded, showing just how much time you spent around him when you were with Yondu.

"You dare? You, the great mistake. Your father was the coward, and spineless to fall for some weak, pathetic excuse for an incubator. She died giving birth to something which was never meant to be. And you? You killed her. Since the day you were born you have caused nothing but chaos..."

The smile slowly fades off your face. And then, there's silence. At least, you think there is, but apparently, Al-Null kept going on and on. You couldn't hear him. You couldn't hear anything but your heart beating with such intensity that it felt like your head would explode.

Peter tenses up, having seen the degree of your powers firsthand. Gamora's hand hovers over her blaster inside her holster, though not exactly for the Kree. She knows what you can do because Peter told her before, but she also knows that a blaster won't stop you. Not even close.

The rage builds within you like a supernova waiting to burst. Your vision begins to blur at the edges, turning red with fury. You can feel your celestial power surging through your veins, threatening to overflow. Your feet lift off the ground as energy crackles around you.

"(Y/n)," Adam's voice cuts through the haze, steady and grounding. "Look at me."

But you can't. All you see is the massive Kree ship and all you hear are Al-Null's words about your mother echoing in your mind. The power builds, your hands glowing with energy as you prepare to unleash devastation upon the fleet.

"She is losing control," Mantis whispers, her antennae quivering with anxiety.

Peter steps forward cautiously. "(Y/n), hey, don't listen to that blue asshole—"

With a scream, you take off up into space, a colorful aura of hot energy trailing behind you like a flying torch.

The first ship explodes before anyone can react, pieces of metal and screaming Kree soldiers tumbling through the void of space. You're a blazing comet, your celestial power unleashed in its rawest form. Another blast from your hands tears through a second vessel, then a third.

"By the stars," Drax murmurs, watching the destruction from below.

Adam doesn't hesitate. He launches himself upward, his own golden energy propelling him toward you. He can feel your pain, your rage—a hurricane of emotions that threatens to consume not just the Kree fleet but yourself.

In space, surrounded by debris and fire, you hover before Al-Null's command ship, hands raised to obliterate it. Your body pulses with celestial light, eyes glowing with power no half-human should possess. You don’t remember what happened next, but you do remember that it was cold, and quiet, your body floating without any constraints of gravity.

—☆ TETHER

When you awake, it's not in the vacuum of space or surrounded by the wreckage of Kree ships. You're in a dimly lit room, lying on something soft. Your body feels heavy, drained of the celestial energy that had threatened to tear you apart.

"She's awake," Mantis says softly from somewhere nearby.

You try to sit up, but a gentle hand presses against your shoulder. "Don't," Adam says, his voice closer than you expected. "Your body needs time to recover."

As your vision clears, you see him sitting beside you, his expression unreadable yet somehow concerned. Behind him, Peter paces nervously while Gamora watches from the doorway.

"What happened?" Your voice is hoarse, barely audible.

"You nearly destroyed an entire Kree armada," Gamora answers matter-of-factly.

"Cool…," you manage to utter, your voice barely more than a whisper, strained and fragile.

Peter takes a tentative step toward you, his face etched with concern. "You should sleep. Al-Null escaped, but most of his fleet is scattered across three sectors."

"Doesn't matter," you mutter, attempting to push yourself up again. "He's still out there. He’s still—"

"You need recovery time," Gamora interjects firmly. "Even celestials have limits."

Adam's gaze hasn't left your face since you awoke, his golden eyes tracking every expression that crosses your features. There's something different in the way he's looking at you now—not hungry, but... protective. Soft.

"We'll check on the Valturians," Rocket announces, already heading for the door. "Make sure they ain't got more surprises waitin'."

"I am Groot," comes the agreeable response.

Peter hesitates, clearly torn between going off with the Guardians and staying to watch you. He comes to the decision to go off with them, but, Adam stays, much to your slight annoyance. You had planned to just sneak off when they were all gone.

"We'll be back soon," Peter says with a final concerned glance. "Just... stay put, okay?"

You nod halfheartedly, waiting for the door to slide shut behind the Guardians before immediately throwing your legs over the side of the bed. Your body feels surprisingly good—the celestial half of you working overtime to repair the damage.

"Where do you think you're going?" Adam's voice is calm but firm as he steps between you and the door.

"To finish what I started," you reply, standing up straight. "Al-Null is still out there."

"No." The single word carries the weight of a thousand. Adam doesn't raise his voice, but his eyes shine with intensity.

"Move, Adam. This isn't your fight."

He steps closer, golden skin catching the dim light. "You nearly burned yourself out. Even with your healing abilities, that level of power expenditure—“

“I said move.”

He stays put, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes now harder—firm and demanding. “No. You’re not leaving.”

A surge of anger rushes through you. Who does he think he is to tell you what you can and cannot do? The energy within you flickers to life again, not as powerful as before, but enough to make the air around you thick with tension.

"Get out of my way," you hiss, taking a step forward. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, a faint glow emanating from beneath your skin.

Adam doesn't budge. Instead, he moves closer, his own cosmic energy rising to meet yours. The space between you becomes charged, golden tendrils of his power weaving with the aura of yours.

"I will not let you destroy yourself," he says, voice dropping lower. "Your recklessness will be your undoing."

"My 'recklessness' is none of your concern!" You shove against his chest, but he barely moves. His body is warm and solid against your palms, and the contact sends a jolt through your system, like it did months ago at the Halloween party. You hadn't come into physical contact with him since that day.

"Get out of my way," you snarl, shoving harder this time, your energy flaring. The room's lights flicker as your power pulses outward.

Adam's hand suddenly catches your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "Enough." His voice has dropped an octave, resonating with authority.

"Let go of me!" You wrench your arm, but he holds fast, pulling you closer until your bodies are nearly flush against each other. The air between you crackles with energy—yours wild and chaotic, his controlled but equally potent.

"You're not thinking clearly," he says, his face now inches from yours. "Your emotions are clouding your mind. Don't be rash."

You’d come to regret what you do next, but a small part of you wouldn't, and never will. You emit a sudden wave of energy, sending Adam flying back against the wall, hitting it hard enough to leave a small crack. “I told you to move.”

You make a beeline for the door, your mind focused on one thing. Al-Null.

You barely make it two steps before a golden blur moves with inhuman speed. Adam is suddenly before you, his eyes blazing with an intensity you've never seen from him. In one fluid motion, he grabs your shoulders and spins you around, pushing you back against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs.

"No," he growls, pinning you there with his body. His hands move to capture your wrists, holding them firmly against the wall on either side of your head. "You will listen to me."

Your celestial energy surges in response to the threat, but Adam's power counters it immediately, creating a cocoon of golden light that seems to dampen your abilities. You struggle against his grip, but his strength matches yours in your weakened state.

"Let me go!" you snarl, thrashing against his hold.

Adam leans closer, his face mere inches from yours. "You would risk your life for revenge," he says, his voice dangerously low. "I cannot allow that."

Something shifts in his eyes—a decision made—and suddenly his grip tightens. You feel it then, a strange sensation like a thread being pulled from deep within your chest, connecting to him. His eyes glow brighter, the golden light intensifying as he presses his forehead against yours.

"If you won't listen to reason," he whispers, "then feel what I feel."

A wave of foreign emotion crashes into you—concern so deep it borders on anguish, fear so primal it makes your heart race, and beneath it all, a devotion so absolute it takes your breath away. These aren't your feelings. They're his.

"What are you doing to me?" you gasp, trembling under the weight of his emotions pouring into you.

"A soul bond."

Your body suddenly feels weak as the wave of emotions crash over you. Was this everything he felt? All this time? All of this, and yet he always managed to seem like everything was under control—the complete opposite of you. You somewhat tried to snap out of it, feelings of anger still there. “Stop…I don’t understand..,” you breathe, your resistance weakening as the soul bond takes hold.

His golden eyes bore into yours, pupils dilated with something primal. "I've tethered us together," he murmurs., "Now you'll understand."

The connection between you pulses like a living thing, and suddenly your senses are heightened, every point where his body touches yours sending electric currents through your skin. Your anger dissolves into something else entirely—a mixture of pain and longing that mirrors his own.

"I can feel everything you feel," Adam whispers, his grip on your wrists loosening but not releasing. "Your rage, your pain...”

You gasp as his emotions flood through you—possessiveness, need, and a desperate yearning that makes your knees weak. The bond amplifies everything, creating a feedback loop of sensation between you, as if trying to take away, or rather, distract your anger.

Adam's eyes narrow, something dark and primal flickering across his face. In one fluid motion, he spins you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, his body flush against your back. The heat of him radiates through your clothes, his breathing heavy against your ear.

His arm snakes around, fingers splaying across your throat before moving upward to grasp your face, thumb and fingers gently digging into your cheeks as he tilts your head back against his shoulder.

"Do you remember what I asked of you?" he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "When I came to your door?" His grip on your face is firm but careful, holding you in place as if you might slip away. "I asked to court you."

You don't answer—can't answer with his fingers pressing into your cheeks, but your true feelings become clear through the soul bond.

"You truly feel it now," he breathes, the words vibrating against your skin. "The connection that's been there since I first sensed you across this galaxy. My mate."

"Mate? What are you—"

But Adam doesn't explain, doesn't pause to clarify. He captures your mouth with his own before you can finish, your body still sandwiched between him and the cold wall, though his higher-than-average body temperature provided the perfect warmth. The kiss was far from gentle, instead full of possession and need.

His hand drifts from your face to your throat, not squeezing too hard but maintaining enough pressure to hold you in place. His other hand slips beneath your top, his palm pressed flat against your stomach to pull you closer as his lips roughly claim yours. Eventually, he parts them, leaving behind a thin thread of mixed saliva lingering between your lips before it breaks.

"I've been waiting," he murmurs softly by your ear, "ever since I first sensed you." His hand moves lower, dangerously near your clothed core, then his fingers travel over the delicate fabric of your panties before venturing further down to explore the damp spot beneath.

"Adam," you gasp as his fingers confidently press against your mound.

"Is this the effect I have on you?"

You bite back a moan as his digits locate the side seam of the soft fabric and tug it aside just enough to expose you.

“You don't need to voice it. I already know,” he whispers, gently running his fingers through your slick folds, tracing a line up to your clit before pressing down, testing your reaction.

"Oh—" you sigh, tensing as a jolt shoots through your nerves. While you have touched yourself before, the connection between your souls amplifies everything. You barely have time to register how different this feels as his fingers begin with light, deliberate strokes before progressing into slow, circular motions. "Adam…"

To your mixed frustration and arousal, he withdraws his hand from your pants, instead grabbing your hip firmly, leaving your core softly pulsating, getting wetter by the second.

"You're coming with me."

—☆ COCOON

His room is simple yet filled with lush green plants that fill the space with warmth and a welcoming energy—every scent in the room reminiscent of him, intensified by the soul bond.

His hands stay on your hips as he gently guides you against the wall by his bed. Leaning in close, his lips brush behind your ear while his nose caresses your skin as he takes in your scent. “I need you to smell more like…me.”

Smirking against his tousled blonde hair, you tease, “You take me to your room and yet you don’t put me on your bed,” while he continues to nuzzle, savoring every nuance.

His tongue flicks behind your ear before traveling down to your neck, sending shivers that ripple between your thighs. “I know,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shudder at the moist trail of his tongue, surprised by how soft it feels despite his synthetic nature. “You’re like a damn cat…”

“I’m not exactly sure what a cat is, (Y/n),” he replies, as his hands slide from your hips to your ribcage. With large, steady hands, he lifts you off the floor. “But if that’s how they behave, maybe I am.”

His bed is firm—a perfect match for him if not entirely for you—and he settles on his side behind you, drawing your body close so you blend together. One of his arms wraps around your neck gently, while his hand travels along your collarbone, down to your chest. His fingers brush over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your top, pinching it lightly with curious care.

“Hmm,” he purrs, shifting from a soft pinch to cradling your breast with a gentle squeeze. Meanwhile, his other hand glides briefly across your stomach before returning to your growing center. “You’re... so soft.”

His fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties again, finding you wet and wanting. The bond between you heightens every sensation—you feel his touch as deeply as he feels the effect it has on you. “And here, too,” he murmurs, slowly gliding his fingers up and down, deliberately teasing the wet heat of your folds before lightly rubbing your clit.

A quiet moan fills the room as his fingers pick up pace, each rhythmic movement sending waves of pleasure through you. He shifts slightly, partly laying over you, pressing his hardness against your ass even as his hand continues its exploration. His warm, erratic breath against your neck reveals his own mounting desire. “I want you to feel what I feel,” he whispers with raw intensity.

The energy between you builds as Adam’s presence seems to fill the space. Moving his hand lower, he pushes two long fingers inside you, meeting no resistance as you arch your hips toward him.

“Adam—” you breathe, but your voice falters as he curls upward, finding that soft spot inside and pressing with precise intensity.

A rush comes over you, skin tingling like pins and needles, your muscles tightening around his fingers. Your breath catches in sharp cries as they curl again, fucking you with a steady rhythm until you feel yourself cumming around them.

He doesn’t stop. Even as your body shudders with aftershocks, his fingers remain, now moving slowly and tenderly as they explore each reaction. “So responsive,” he murmurs against your neck, withdrawing his hand to taste you. “Your taste,” he breathes, as if it were the most precious flavor.

Before you can reply, Adam moves with fluid precision down your body until his shoulders rest between your legs. His hands press firmly on your thighs, gently spreading you open. “I need more.”

His golden eyes lock onto yours—seeing you wet, flushed, and completely exposed. He leans in, his breath sending shivers through your already sensitive core. Then his mouth latches onto you, warmth and urgency igniting every nerve as his tongue replaces his fingers.

“Oh fuck—Adam,” you gasp, the sound airy in the heavy room.

He doesn’t pause or hesitate. His focus is complete, consuming. The bond magnifies everything—the texture of his tongue as it works its way inside you, pushing deeper before flicking up around your clit with steady precision. The friction sends waves through your body, overwhelming and perfect all at once.

You writhe beneath him, gasping as his grip tightens on your thighs to keep you still. The tension coils inside you, rising so fast it steals your breath and turns it into ragged cries.

Even as you cry out, he doesn’t relent. Your body tenses again, but he keeps going like he needs every last drop of you.

“Adam,” you plead softly.

His response is a low, vibrating hum that sends tremors through you. He shifts his hold on your thighs, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your hips with sure guidance. The change makes you gasp as his hands spread you open. You squirm beneath him, desperate for more than just his mouth.

Holding you there, exposed and needy, he commands softly, “Be good.”

His mouth resumes its work with unwavering hunger, the wet heat of his tongue driving you wild as his hand lands with a quick, light smack on your ass. The sharp sensation makes you catch your breath, your body jolting in surprise.

“Adam,” you gasp again, his name melting into a moan as he soothes the sting with his palm before delivering another firm, playful slap—adding to the building intensity inside you.

“That…was for earlier,” he whispers against your slick heat before plunging his tongue back inside. His hands keep your hips steady while he devours you from behind, each movement pushing you closer to a place you have never reached. His hand slips between your legs, his fingers exploring until they find you wet and swollen, then push inside again, moving with a rhythm that matches his tongue.

The intensity builds impossibly as he takes you higher, pushing beyond any limit you’ve ever known. The motions of his mouth and fingers combine into a perfect storm of sensation that leaves you breathless, gasping for something you can’t name.

“Too much,” you choke out, barely audible amid the overwhelming rush. But it isn’t too much—it’s exactly what you need.

A tidal wave of pleasure surges through you, larger than anything you’ve ever known. And then—

You’re cumming—and, you’re squirting. A lot.

He pulls back slightly, watching with fascination as you ride the aftershocks. Breath ragged, you search for words—but Adam shifts again, his movements deliberate as he climbs up your body, slowing down until you find yourself pressed against his chest.

“Turn around,” he murmurs darkly in your ear, his hands guiding your hips until you face him, breathless and ready.

His mouth meets yours once more with an urgent, unapologetic kiss. His hands are everywhere—one tangling in your hair to tilt your head back for deeper access, another sliding down your back while one more grabs your ass, pulling you against the hard outline of his suit. His need is clear, insistent as he rolls his hips with growing urgency.

You feel his hardness, the bond amplifying every touch until your pulse races and you grind against him. The friction makes you gasp into his kiss, and he swallows your sounds with matching hunger.

Breaking the kiss, he watches you with a look of pure possession, as if he’s claiming every part of you, before his fingers trace gently across your lips. “I need to know,” he murmurs softly, “every part of you.”

With a subtle insistence, he guides your lips to his fingers, letting you taste him. You hum softly against his skin as your tongue meets his touch, exploring deeper.

His eyes darken at the feeling, a new fascination taking over. The slick warmth of your mouth wraps around him, and he pushes further than expected—just a little too far—brushing the back of your throat.

You gag slightly, eyes wide as the small sound echoes between you. He seems to enjoy it—more than he probably should—and a dark thrill pulses through him, leaving both of you breathless with need. He pushes further, feeling the wet, flexible tissue, earning another soft gag from you, to which he groans in satisfaction.

His fingers slip from your mouth, leaving you flushed and gasping. “I want all of you,” he murmurs, voice low and claiming. “Everywhere.”

With sudden speed, he rolls onto his back and pulls you up to straddle him, your thighs spread beside his waist. His hands hold your hips firmly, positioning you as if he’s certain this is where you belong.

The thin fabric of his suit does little to hide the hard length pressed against you. He rocks upward so you can feel the full weight of his desire. You can barely breathe as he holds you there, his eyes burning into yours with a look that leaves no doubt—you’re his.

“Take it off,” he orders softly.

You’ve never seen him so raw and demanding.

His fingers dig into your hips, guiding the movement as you press against him. You’re flushed and breathless, the urgency in his touch mirrored by your own desire.

Somewhere along the way, he had stripped you of all your clothes. It was only right to return the favor. Your hands tremble until they reach the seam of his suit, peeling it away to reveal the hard, eager length straining between his thighs. The sight was…ethereal. It was thick, very thick, and just the perfect length for you. The base matched his golden skin, while the color fades to a lighter gold towards the tip.

Lifting you slightly, he positions you above him with confidence that quickens your pulse. The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, slick already from his earlier efforts. He doesn’t push inside—not yet—but the pressure is enough to leave you trembling.

“I want you,” he growls, his voice rough with need. “I want you now.”

There’s no question about who’s in charge—and you realize just how much you crave him. With a firm grip on your hips, he lifts you just enough to let the head tease your entrance before slowly letting you sink down. It’s both intense and teasing, filling you inch by inch until he’s deep inside.

“Ohh fuck…big…you’re so…”

Not ready to give up control, his hands still guide your hips as you ride him slowly at first, adjusting to the fullness and heat inside. The rhythm is gentle, allowing each shared sensation to build with the bond linking you.

You tilt your head back with a moan, your body arching as his movements stretch you perfectly. Even now, every pulse sends waves of pleasure through both of you.

Then it becomes too much for him to hold back.

The primal need takes over. His grip tightens and he starts thrusting harder, faster—a force that makes you cry out.

His hands leave your hips, gliding up your back to pull you closer against him. Your chests meet, and he wraps his arms around you, locking you in place as he drives into you with raw, unrestrained force.

Every thrust sends shockwaves of sensation, each movement deep and deliberate, claiming you again and again.

Adam’s breath is hot against your neck, ragged with desire as he thrusts relentlessly. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the space, accompanied by his low growls and your breathless cries.

“Is that good? You like this? Tell me you do.”

“Y-Yes, I—,” Clinging tightly to him, your fingers dig into his shoulders as he fucks you harder in response.

“Good,” he breathes against your skin, a single word full of possession.

A soft glow begins to shine behind your eyes, resembling the colors of your celestial aura, reflecting in his burning gaze. The sight sends a shiver through him, and his eyes blaze with soft gold as he watches you unravel in his embrace.

The room grows thick with heat and tension, your bodies slick with sweat. His grip tightens even more, drawing you closer until there’s no space left.

“Fuck—Adam!” You cry out as the friction builds impossibly high, pushing you both to the edge.

The rush of sensation becomes overwhelming—you could feel everything he felt on top of how his cock rammed inside you over and over. Then, in an explosion of pleasure, you’re cumming.

A surge of energy courses through every nerve as your body convulses, releasing all at once. You tremble, barely coherent, while Adam’s mouth remains on you, savoring all of you.

He pulls back slightly, watching with fascination as you ride the aftershocks. The bond between you amplifies everything, until it feels like every sensation is doubled. His steady hold keeps you grounded as your body trembles against him.

Catching your breath, you try to find words, but Adam moves with quick precision, turning you over onto your back, still inside of you.

He's relentless now, determined and unyielding as he pins you beneath him, fucking you with raw intensity, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, the sounds filling the room. The shift leaves you gasping, unable to find words.

With a deep groan, he moves faster, harder—a force of nature that leaves you breathless. His hands seize your wrists again, pinning them above your head with firm control.

“You’re mine,” he breathes fiercely, his eyes wild with hunger.

You can barely respond as each thrust sends shockwaves through you, building into a storm of shared sensation that fills every inch of space.

“Adam,” you gasp, barely coherent as white-hot pleasure takes over.

With a primal growl, he drives into you one last time—deep and claiming. Then he cums so hard that it leaves him trembling above you. A low groan escapes his lips as he fills you completely, the hot temperature of his cum rushing through your pussy.

He keeps moving, his hips rocking with focused intent like he wants to fill you until there’s no space left. “So much,” he whispers in awe, voice low and rough. “Take all of it.”

You feel him emptying into you—again and again—each pulse deliberate and consuming. The sensation is overwhelming, a flood that leaves you gasping.

He slows but doesn't stop, his thrusts shallow and steady, aiming right at your g-spot as his release seems endless. His lips brush your ear, murmuring with soft insistence that makes your heart race. “I’ll fill you with everything,” he breathes, the words wrapping around you like a promise. “Make you mine completely.”

The bond amplifies each word, every sensation, until it takes over your body entirely. Breathless and overwhelmed, you arch against him as the feeling builds again.

“Oh—fuck!” Another orgasm rushes through you in waves of overwhelming release. Your body tightens around him, leaving you breathless and shaking beneath him.

Adam holds you still, his primal need unrelenting as he fills you with consuming warmth. He groans, low and satisfied, whispering your name like a claim.

Seconds feel like minutes that stretch into forever, until he slows to a stop, body tense and trembling above you.

Then he pulls out, finally, his thick cum spilling from you. But Adam’s fingers are already there, picking up whatever he could, which was leaking out from your used hole from the sheer volume of it all.

Oh—

His brows knit with focus as though a sudden new fascination overtakes him. His thick seed leaks past his fingers even as they slide in and out, faster now, until wet sounds fill the room and your breath catches ragged in your throat.

You gasp, knowing what he's trying to do—and embarrassed despite yourself after what happened earlier. The sight of it had entranced him too much. Again? Really?

“Wait—,” you plead, your hands already moving to try and stop him.

Adam shifts up and his hand catches your face, firm and commanding. He holds you there, keeping your eyes locked on his as he watches each reaction, intent and consuming. His fingers never slow, relentless as they push deeper, stretching and filling you with everything he has.

“Let me,” he whispers.

You writhe beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch and the steady pressure inside you. The bond amplifies each sensation until it feels like too much. You’re already so close again—and Adam knows it.

A dark thrill pulses through him as he picks up speed, driving into you with raw precision. He wants to see you cum again like you did—a crying, squirting mess. And judging by that look in his eyes, he doesn’t plan on stopping there.

"Be good," he breathes, his grip tightening on your face.

Your pulse races as his fingers pistoned into you with building force, reaching deeper than before. "You're gonna...make me cum..." You can barely breathe, the relentless rhythm pushing you higher until—

You cum again, a flood of sensation and warmth erupting in a way that leaves you gasping for air. This time it's even more intense, your body releasing with such force that you feel it everywhere. An almost transparent, milky liquid rushes past his hand in hot, uncontrollable waves, soaking him completely. Your eyes roll back as the bond flares bright behind them. "Fucking hell—Adam!" you cry out, voice breaking with each surge of pleasure.

Adam watches in awe, golden eyes wide as he sees you unravel beneath him. His breath catches at the sight of your wetness spilling over his fingers, dripping onto the sheets with each convulsion of your body.

He grows harder still at the sight—the pressure so intense that it pushes him over.

“(Y/n)—” The word escapes his lips in a low groan as he cums hard and untouched, white hot ropes spilling across your stomach.

He continues fucking you with his fingers, his touch relentless despite his own release. The pleasure is overwhelming, eventually your body shaking with aftershocks. Only then does he slow, watching as the last tremors rock through you.

Breathless and exhausted, you collapse against the sheets, your skin damp and flushed. Adam pulls his hand away finally, fingers glistening wet as he traces them up your stomach before bringing them to his lips.

He tastes you slowly, deliberately—his gaze locked on yours with a look of pure possession. You can feel the effect it has on him as though it were your own.

The bond still flares bright between you, every shared sensation magnified until it feels like there’s no boundary left. For the first time, you understand what it means to belong completely to someone—and have them belong entirely to you.

You draw in a ragged breath while your body shudders beneath him. “You’re insane,” you murmur softly against his lips.

Adam's mouth curves into a slight, breathless grin. He shifts onto his side next to you, pulling your body close and keeping it there. “Then you are, too.”

Knowing you’re not going anywhere now, Adam’s arms wrap around you with an unyielding grip. His breath is warm against your skin as he nuzzles against you, his need to mark with scent strong. He seems content to have you so close, to feel every inch of you pressed against him in the quiet aftermath.

You draw a deep breath, letting your senses adjust to the new reality between you. It feels different now—right. Like something that was missing has finally clicked into place.

Don’t be rash 🤚🏼

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x fem!reader #adam warlock x y/n #marvel rivals fic #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x you

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froyamjam · 3 days ago

Text

Elliott x Farmer Domestic Headcanons (SFW & NSFW)

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

Contains: Gender neutral reader. Tooth rotting fluff. Sexual topics; vanilla sex, overstim, oral fixation, face sitting mentioned.

Note: This is my first headcanons post so I hope i formatted everything properly!!

SFW:

- Elliott isn’t the best at cooking, so he usually makes drinks (coffee, tea, etc.). Thankfully food isn’t a concern given how many resources you both have but he tries to contribute something when he can.

- His love language is quality time and physical touch. So whenever he can he’ll spend time with you. Watching movies and what-not.

- One of his favorite things to do with you is cook. Teaching him how different recipes is something he always looks forward to whenever you have the time.

- You’re always having a long day at the farm. At night Elliott holds you in bed, giving you soft massages along with many words of affirmation before you both fall asleep. Stuff like, “You’ve worked so hard.” And he means it, from the bottom of his heart.

- The only time he’s genuinely worried for you is when you’re in the mines past 10PM. He does not mean to doubt your expertise, even if you are slaying monsters all by your lonesome, but anything can happen without him knowing/being able to save you.

- Unfortunately you’ve been hospitalized before from your adventures in the mines. Like, you almost died from both exhaustion and injury (this is for the farmers who don’t have combat skills). When Elliott got the call from Harvey the writer ran to your aid immediately, he carried you home. As soon as you both arrived he took you to bed, stacking sheets/blankets on you, and made sure you were tucked in and okay the whole night. And when I say he made sure you were well he literally stayed up the whole night.

- It took you a week to get better. Elliott took care of you 100%+ times more than he usually would throughout the week. Thankfully you had people like Alex and Abigail tending to your farm. Despite their help Elliot made sure to check on the farm as well.

- Elliott has a tendency to leave short poems in your daily belongings. Like in your clothes pockets, your meal bags, or attached to your farming tools. One time he put a letter in your watering can, but you went to refill it and accidentally destroyed the letter. You felt so bad when you told him, but he forgave you since he thought it was kinda silly of him to have put it there in the first place.

- Does he get jealous? Rarely does Elliott feel unconfident in himself when he’s around the other singles. However, if Elliott does hear or witness some sentimental moments between you and other singles, he’ll feel a little intimidated without the context.

- On those special nights, he surprises you with a candlelit dinner (food in courtesy of Gus). The wine, the candles in your favorite scent. And a bottle of lavender oil, that he’s going to use to massage your entire body with while he listens to you talk about your day/week.

______________________

NSFW:

- Well, Elliott is a massive love-making enthusiast. For your first time together he added extra things to enhance the mood he’s going for. Wine, dimmed lights— all that romantic stuff that he totally didn’t learn about from any novels. That’s definitely not to say that Elliott’s inexperienced, he’s had his fair share of fun and has done his research.

- And wow, Elliott can make you melt. From the foreplay to the moment he’s inside you. He was a perfect mix of gentle and rough all throughout. (It’d be something that someone inexperienced wouldn’t expect during their first time).

- Elliott has a more passionate personality during sex. As a service dom, he will make you satisfied in whatever way you want.

- Yes, he does love it when you grab his hair for dear life. And yes, he will use poetic metaphors to describe whatever’s going on during sex. It’s a little cringy but it’s inevitable, I’m sorry.

- In terms of his personal preference, he’s vanilla, but on an occasion will enjoy some rough action, or a bit of role-play.

- Reserved for really special occasions, Elliott likes to buy vintage lingerie for you to wear. What special occasions are we talking about? Well, let’s just say you won’t catch up to the passion and pace he’s giving you.

- If you’re into rough sex, it’ll happen on rare occasions (maybe, maybe-not special occasions). Elliott isn’t so fond to having rough sex out of fear of hurting you, but he’ll happily let you sit on his face to be suffocated.

- ….so he likes being suffocated, with your consent!

- Though he does not like rough sex, this man loves to overstim you. Too many orgasms. He loves to test your limits, making you scream into a pillow and become an absolute mess.

- Did I mention that Elliott loves giving you oral? (I did.) His favorite time to do it is during the wee-hours of the morning. You’d wake up annoyed with him, staring down at the man begging in the form of a whisper to have just a little fun with you before the start of the day.

- His exclusive aftercare treatment is quite nice. He helps you both into a nice hot bath to clean you up.

——————

NOTE Elliott fans needed to be fed. There will bachelor/bachelorette headcanons to come!

#stardew valley #stardew elliott #stardew valley fanfic #fluff #sdv #x reader #reader #gn reader #smut #headcanon

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sturniolo04 · 2 days ago

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sls!reader x brother!matt x brother!chris x brother!nick

A/n: so I tried something different! Let me know what you think. And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

Dividers: @issysh3ll and @mintsturniolo

You always did everything with your older brothers growing up. They were kind of like your role models if you will. It has always been you and them growing up and no one else. So when you guys started doing a YouTube career together, filming car videos with all of you in the car ranting about really your sibling problems mostly because let’s be honest you guys do go at it from time to time but also just entertaining your fans along the way.

You guys eventually moved out to LA to expand and that within itself has been an experience because they were 3 boys and you were the only girl in the house.

“Chris did you drink the last Pepsi”

You huff out dressed in you matching brown fresh love set looking in the fridge to find none left as they were all sitting on the couch.

“Uh yeah”

Chris states nonchalantly as you roll your eyes knowing you told him specifically not to drink it because it was yours and since he drank the rest of the case itself.

“Whatever I cant even”

You state walking back into your room which was across the hallway from Matt’s on the main floor of the house.

Over time you and the boys started getting into more arguments that quite frankly were just so stupid and over absolutely nothing. Until one day you guys got into it so bad that you couldn’t stand it anymore being in the same place as them, living with them.

“Why the fuck are you always hanging around us it’s like you don’t have a fucking life”

Matt exclaims yelling at you tears already forming in your matching light blue orbs. See this was not where this argument was going, you had gotten mad at chris for being so messy and Nick and Matt was not doing shit about it.

“I mean he’s not fucking wrong like you could go get a friend of some kind and get your own place so you wouldn’t even have to deal with this messy life of Chris or us for that matter’’

Nick huffs out simply irritated that this is even an argument but couldn’t back down even though they way Matt brought it up to you because he was right and it was true.

You couldn’t believe the things you were hearing from your brothers mouths in the moment you didn’t know what to say you couldn’t reply if you tried. Were you that much of a problem around them you never thought that you could be suffocating them but that was because you loved them and loved being around them but I guess they didn’t feel the same and it was coming out years later.

“Whoa wait guys seriously”

Chris states sighing out knowing that even if it might be true Matt and Nick were wrong for saying it to your face like that. Chris was always the one to fix issues between us amongst the sibling circle simply because he hated when anyone was mad at each other but also mad at him for the matter it genuinely hurt him to his core.

“um yeah I think I’m going to go so I can get a life”

You choke out quietly heading to your room to pack your stuff to head over to your friend Madison’s house.

You knock on her door eventually being greeted by a concerned Madison.

“Whoa oh my god what- what happened my love”

Madison coos out as you fall into her arms sobbing as she tightly wraps her arms around you.

“My- s-stupid brothers- nick and matt”

You sob out your Boston accent becoming more apparent between sobs.

“Here come inside sit down let’s get you some water”

Madison urges pulling you and all your stuff in the living room.

“What did they say”

Madison asks sitting down next to handing you the glass of water trying to continue the conversation you had started at her doorstep.

“Matt and Nick don’t like having me around”

You sob out taking the glass from her as Madison’s face morphs into confusion.

“ no that can’t be true they love you there’s no way they truly think that”

Madison states as Presley hops on the couch to comfort you.

“No you don’t understand they did you should have seen Matt’s face and Nick just fucking agreed with him and Chris- I need to get my own place i don’t want to suffocate them any longer”

You finish letting out a sigh petting presely’s head in the process.

“How about this stay here for a couple of days and let them cool down and if you think you want to move out we can be roomies I have plenty I of space”

Madison offers as you simply smile and nod.

“Okay I have to go to the studio real quick but I will be back. You can order a pizza or something I love you ok”

Madison quips as she stands up grabbing her keys and heading out.

“It’s so quiet in here now that-“

Nick states letting out a sigh as the three of them sit at the kitchen table. It had been a couple of days since the blow up between you and your brothers and you hadn’t spoken to them or even texted them once. It was really hard because you missed them but you didn’t forget what they honestly stated and confessed to you.

“Ugh I feel really bad but I just want her to not be so dependent-“

Matt huffs out Chris abruptly stands up getting frustrated with his brothers.

“No no NO you guys don’t get to say shit guys think about it it has always be us and her no one else, and you’re not looking at it from her point of view and I’m sick and tired of it you guys need to fix this shit now because she’s ignoring me because you two can’t keep your shit together”

Chris trails off as Matt and Nick stare at his brother in guilt.

“if you need me don’t”

Chris exclaims finally grabbing his phone heading downstairs to his room to grab his keys to go to Madison’s house because he knew you would be there where else would you go.

Chris never got angry or yelled about anything unless his brothers pissed him off directly but the fact that you were ignoring him too because of nick and Matt was hurting him.

“I got it”

You excitedly state getting up from the couch to answer the door to see Chris.

“Chris um hi”

You quietly state stepping outside and closing the door behind you folding your arms over your chest.

“Why are you here”

You ask you knew why he was here because Chris didn’t do anything at all and you were only ignoring him because I mean those are his triplet brothers for crying out loud.

“Um I wanted to see how you were doing”

Chris quickly rambles out as you quirk an eyebrow up at him knowing that’s not fully why he is standing on Madison’s door step.

“Okay I miss you and I know you can’t come home because the shit going on with Matt and Nick but you really hurt me shutting me out when I don’t think you are suffocating us”

He huffs out honestly as your face softens at his words.

“You put up with my suffocation the most if anything because I am always on you meaning hugging you and being around you in general but that’s just because”

Chris states as you cut him off.

“You love me and I love you too I’m sorry it’s just nick and Matt really believe that shit and it’s fucked up I have done nothing but support all of you because I love you guys it was sh- I’m sorry for ignoring you it was never you”

You sigh out as Chris brings you quickly in for a hug.

“Um im thinking about moving in with Madison she offered”

You shyly speak up and you were considering it. Even if you guys had fixed and resolved your issues you still realized it was time to do you own thing for your sake.

“Oh okay that’s good for you kid”

Chris chuckles out as you roll your eyes.

“I’m not your kid”

You giggle out as Chris just chuckles.

It had gotten better between you and Chris and he was spending more time with you at Madison’s house because things were still tense with Nick and Matt but today Chris was making you go back to the house to start packing since you had made up your mind about moving in with Madison. You two entered into the shared house exchanging giggles about something stupid that was said while coming up the steps.

“Oh Chris said you two were going to be out”

You quietly speak out looking at Chris after looking at the pair sitting on the couch once you two reach the main floor of the house.

“Well i will be out of here shortly I just need to start packing my stuff’

You quietly state getting ready to head to your room until Matt speaks up finally breaking the silence.

“Wait I’m sorry sis”

Matt huffs out honestly as he and Nick stand up from the couch.

“We’re sorry we didn’t mean anything we said”

Nick adds on as you let out a soft sigh.

“The last thing I-we want is to push you out when we like having you here”

Matt states as they had finally made their way over to you and Chris.

“Yeah I know I just really missed you guys honestly”

You pout out as nick and matt bring you into a group hug.

“Don’t forget me”

Chris exclaims joining in on the group hug.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @dirtylittleheart333

@stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @ksturnz @chaoswithus @emely9274 @ivysturnss @sturniolo-szn2 @lezleeferguson-120 @courta13 @chrepsi @lyingonchris

@tezzzzzzzz @babytomatoes21 @zenithsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws

#sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #girlypopsquad🩵#chris x reader #nick sturniolo #charli'scorner🩵#sls

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formylovetodaryldixon · 3 days ago

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"Paper Cuts." CH2—Daryl Dixon.

Chapter summary: Just when you thought the date had been a disaster and it was all over, Daryl shows up on the night of your birthday.

A/N: Hi!!! A heartfelt thank you to those who liked the first chapter and who asked to be tagged. There will be more dialogue later, but I needed to put this this way for what comes next. This is probably something Daryl wouldn't do, taking him out of character, but I feel like even though he's an adult, this would be his first time experiencing things he didn't experience when he was younger, those first times, so he does some things to be with you hihi. I loved writing this even tho i feel it cheesy. But thank you, really!! Intro Chapter 1

When you lean against the open window of his red pickup truck, the wind makes your hair dance, pushing it back in messy but free strands.

However, the whole ride back, you keep wondering why you feel things before they happened, before they even began, or when everything is about to end, like an extra sense you were born with and that warned you about stuff. Your grandpa used to tell you that you over-felt everything around you: and that was a problem, a curse, or a blessing; right now you don't know which exactly.

That's how you know everything is going to end that night.

You feel how the rising nerves that had accompanied you all day, the ones that made you feel like your body was on fire the moment you saw Daryl at noon, leaning against the passenger door of his red truck (looking in the opposite direction from you), his strong bare arms crossed over his chest and an expression he seemed to be used to wearing, perhaps to scare away the entire world, all seem to have evaporated as the imminent end approaches. That feeling inside you that seemed alive was extinguished when it was time to return home, making everything as cold as his attitude.

What you don't know is why.

Daryl Dixon was an expert at encapsulating his feelings and emotions after being scolded for showing them with the innocence of a child when he was a kid, that stupid happiness over something so small or too much sadness over something his parents said was pointless, until time and blows made him understand that the most smart thing to do (to avoid the screaming and the physical and mental pain) was to not show even the slightest hint that he actually felt anything until Daryl truly thought he was rid of them, that life was okay with feeling numb, like living anesthetized, that's why having run into you was like hitting a wall when his motorcycle was going at the limit of humanly possible. Being around you almost half the day had been confusing as hell, hours in which Daryl spent paying attention, but wondering internally if what he felt inside him was good or not.

He had forgotten what it was like to feel for so long that now he didn't know how to differentiate between good and bad.

Daryl had never asked anyone out, too afraid to even ask (pretending to dislike the subject, that the mere thought of it repulsed him and that dating was a waste of time) when in reality, his own mind told him no one would say yes to him with his loving personality as his brother used to call it. Perhaps that's why, for him, seeing you there, sitting almost next to him, makes him feel like when Daryl was a child and night fell on the Fourth of July, with colored lights turning the black sky into a colorful spectacle. He had never thought about that again since he stopped being a child, until today. The excitement, the longing, and the happiness that came with it because something happened afterward that and his mind keeps blurring it, something that made his dad angry, which led to the first scar.

The car's engine stops as he parks where he last did. However, your goodbye is cut short long before it even begins.

"Is yer dad home?"

Confusion hits you, making you shake your head first.

“No. He doesn’t come home on Saturdays.”

Daryl clears his throat; he has to just to find his deep, low voice.

“Lemme walk ya there.”

You nod, though confusing thoughts swirl through your head like a rampaging whirlwind as you open the door to get out. Even the wind seems to have stopped, silencing the world around you, but you walk beside him as if silence really were his best friend when it used to drive you crazy, feeling the need to fill it somehow.

“You told me at the bar the other night that because of my tattoos I was studying to be a vet, or wanted to be one, remember?” The concrete path between the bushes on either side shortens with each step, and Daryl nods when your gaze rests on his for a moment. “You were right about that. I tried, I really tried to be one because that had been my dream my whole life, but when I walked into that lab full of dead animals, I realized there’s a damned chasm between wanting something with all your heart and knowing in your mind that you can do something or not. It’s always a fucking struggle between the mind and the heart, even when people tell you they’re just organs.” You chuckle, stopping a few steps from your front door. “What I mean is, you said I looked like someone who knows what she wants so I want to tell you that took me a long while. And when you told me that you don’t know what you were looking for, I wanted to tell you that it’s okay not to know... okay?”

There’s no ulterior motive this time, but Daryl can’t help but look you up and down as if a full view of you would tell him everything he wanted to know about you at that very second. Yet it’s overwhelming the way he has to nod first to stall for time, too.

“It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N).”

You smile.

“Yeah. I feel the same.”

He leaves. Daryl has to because his emotions seem to be running out of space inside his body, but his steps are just a few as everything stops. You had to mention it, he thinks bitterly, his inability to know, hating the way you could see right through him like a fucking crystal and easily know that he still didn't know what he wanted from this fucking life, if he wanted to end it or continue until his body stopped working on its own. Though it's even stranger to Daryl how he allowed only you the audacity to see his vulnerability and say it out loud, but maybe feeling things isn't so bad after all, not when he's with you at least.

"Fuck it." He curses under his breath before turning around, taking quick steps back to reach you a second before the key in your hand connects with the door, his hand sliding around your waist, just enough to make you turn back to him as your gaze returns to rest on his. “Can I jus'… kiss ya goodbye?”

The confusion is there, but you nod as your bodies move closer together automatically. His free hand rests on your warm cheek, your own hands on his arms for something to hold onto (the key still between your fingers) eyes close as his lips press against yours. It's only a few seconds as his mouth moves against yours, mingling in the heat, but stopping before reaching the peak of intensity, only to leave afterward. You stay there for a long moment, glancing up at the sky in search of the brightest star because your grandpa used to say that when he was gone, not even death would be able to dim his light. You squint in reproach that he's not there to mock you at least, but when you finally enter your house, the cold walls welcome you until you take your first step into the kitchen at the back.

“Hi, baby.” Always a loving greeting from your brother, oblivious to everything as he continues cooking dinner and the smell is already evident. “Where have you been?”

You can come up with a thousand lies, and Austin would believe them because he trusted you blindly; but you don’t want to do that to him.

“A guy asked me out…” You chuckle when he pauses with the knife in his hand to look at you with a confused expression, but you shake your head. “Nothing’s going to happen, Austin. It all ended outside.”

He nods sadly because your sadness was his own, always.

“I’m sorry, baby. Was he something important? Someone I know?”

“You don’t know him, but it's okay.”

“Maybe it’s because he knows who Dad is.”

“He said he didn't mind that, but it's okay, really.” You shrug. “I'll go upstairs. Please let me know when dinner's ready.”

Austin nods, watching you go.

You'd always felt you had the heart of a writer, inherited from your grandmother when she had been the only one in the family who had dared to pursue any kind of art. The path to achieving a new dream had been somewhat unsteady and full of small rocks, invisible traps that threatened to trip you up, but it all ended the moment you realized that was the one thing your dad couldn't take from you: at least that is harmonious, an infinite palette of colors when everything else was monochromatic, especially your nonexistent love life. You knew you should put the experience with Daryl aside, but you couldn't help but compare it to the paragraph in one of your books where a door always opens to let a person in or just greet them at the entrance before closing it.

Funny that right now, the door to your house is open with music pouring out to celebrate your older brother's birthday, and yours.

The memory of your dad not being home on Saturdays still lingers in his mind as Daryl steps inside, the shadows of the hallway as a perfect cover. To his left, the living room is the heart of the party, and the pounding of the sound system seems to blend with his racing heart. This is a stupid idea, he tells himself as Daryl tries to search for you in a sea of people, but it's funny how everything seems to align in his favor the moment your best friend stops in the hallway on her way out, taking a second, as if they're recognizing each other without ever having formally met.

Sami smiles when Daryl wordlessly lifts the gift in his hands (as if that explains everything)

"Up the hall to the left, last door at the end."

He nods his thanks as she leaves.

"Jus' give her the fuckin' gift and go." Daryl repeats himself softly like a mantra as he walks up the crescent-shaped stairs. The empty walls make him feel as if the house isn't inhabited, but it's a reminder of his own home until Daryl stops in the two-way hallway. "(Y/N)?"

His voice is loud enough for only you to hear.

"Over here!"

Daryl lets out a laugh, wondering why as your voice guides him to the end of the left hallway, right to the last room with an open door. However, he swallows the lump in his throat when Daryl realizes he's actually come this far, but the first step he takes inside stops him abruptly when you appear on the other side, bumping his body with yours, your hands in the air protectively.

"What?" Your eyes widen slightly when you see him standing in front of you, your brow furrowing with the weight of surprise—or shock. "I thought you were my brother... What are you doing here, Daryl?"

"I..." His own surprise stops him when Daryl slides his gaze down your entire body, his brain grinding to a halt when he realizes you're wearing knee-high leather boots and that your long legs seem to be hidden beneath that baggy brown cardigan, all while your best friend's voice returning to your mind with her mocking tone: the man from the bar?! He was checking you out, from head to toe, and there was nothing innocent about it. But faster than a bullet, his gaze snapped back to you with an awkward sound in his throat. “Shit, sorry. I jus' came to…”

Awkwardly, Daryl shows you the gift in his hands.

"And you dared to come all the way up here?"

"Yer friend told me the way."

"I'm sure she did."

Nothing makes sense to you, but you laugh anyway; you can't help it.

“You're confusing, Daryl Dixon, but you're lucky to be handsome.” Something stirs inside him at the sound of your laughter and your words, but just as your hands reach for the small, gift-wrapped box, you hear your brother's voice coming down the long hallway, calling you by your usual nickname. “Come in, come in.”

Daryl allows himself to be guided as you close the door with you both inside, so gently that there's no sound when you lock the deadbolt.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah! I just…” You squint, searching for an excuse, but your mind goes blank because there's only one reason. “I wanted to take a shower before bed, okay?”

“Are you sure you don't want to go downstairs for a bit?”

“No. Sami left so no.”

“Uh, okay. Good night.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You hear Austin retreat, but you have to take a deep breath before you dare turn around, wondering how the hell you got into that situation.

“We're going to pretend you didn't hear anything for my peace of mind, okay?”

For a second, his brain does seem unsettled as Daryl nods, his expression as innocent as he doesn't know how to react to everything going on right now: him being in your room, hearing you call him handsome, seeing you dressed like that, and how his wayward mind keeps thinking about you saying you're going to take a shower.

"I think ya broke ma fuckin' mind." His frown appears and disappears the moment you laugh, taking the gift from him to walk away.

"What a strange compliment." You roll your eyes. Daryl stands there for a moment admiring the place. It's small and tidy, but it feels like you, as if your entire home is in there, dark with the only nightlight coming in through the open window. There's a huge bookshelf built into the sides of the rectangular seat in the center, and then a small balcony. "Want to sit until the coast is clear, maybe?"

He nods.

“Have ya read all of these?” Daryl gestures to the entire collection of books, then sits closer than he was trying to, his body pointed toward yours.

“Yeah.”

He blinks, looking as innocent as he could be.

“There must be over 100.”

“Uh, 118, to be exact.” You chuckle at the way he frowns again, but this time as if he’s wordlessly calling you crazy, and you think he seems more handsome when he lets at least a hint of his emotions show. “I don’t think I told you I liked reading that much.”

“Guess no.” Daryl takes a deep breath, not prepared at all for that moment. “Listen, I jus' wanted to apologize for the way I acted that night. I know I told ya I don’ do the girlfriend thing, but the truth is, I never did it either. An' I suck with words, really.”

You nod gently.

“So why are you here?” You’re confused, and he can see that clearly.

He shrugs, as if it all means little.

“Ya told me the only reason ya liked yer birthday was 'cause ya an' yer brother were born on the same day but I think s' only fair that ya get a present, too.”

And though Daryl tries to downplay his own reasons, his words fill the void left by your grandfather’s departure and his rightful way of celebrating both of your birthdays.

“Thank you, Daryl, this means a lot.” You smile, but the silence isn’t awkward as you look down for a moment to play with the red ribbon on the small box in front of you. “Can I open it now, or would you prefer I do it later?”

“Dunno. I don’ even know if ya’ll like it.”

You frown, but Daryl can see the playful smile on your face as you pull at the ribbon.

“I’m sure I’ll like it.”

His own nerves seem to rise to the point of his pulse racing as Daryl watches you open the gift, finding a Polaroid camera, blue like your favorite color. Surprise and confusion make you pause to stare at it for a moment, but your silence is a bad sign and the impulse that drives him to apologize.

“Shit, (Y/N), I don’—”

“No! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your hand moves in the air to stop his concern and the guilt you see in his eyes. “I just… I didn’t think you were listening when I said I wanted something to take pictures with.”

A nervous smile tugs at one side of his lip.

“I was listenin'.”

You nod, trying to make sense of the situation, but everything rushes back—life, the feelings around him—and it’s as confusing as the signals he’s sending you.

“Thank you, Daryl, like, really. This is really the best gift someone gave me. And I wanna say you’re more thoughtful than you let on, you know?” Daryl snorts when he sees the way you tease him while meaning every word. Yet there’s something about the way your smile slowly fades that he knows he won’t like. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but I don’t understand why you’re here because you said goodbye that night, like you meant it. And I mean, it’s okay, really, it’s just…”

It's like a punch to the gut, the way you don't say anything else, but Daryl can't help but frown, a swift and almost dangerous frustration building inside him. Because part of the reason he's lived without feeling anything for so many years was because Daryl used to feel everything so quickly when it was all about the bad, because nothing in his messed-up life was good.

"What ya mean by that, huh? Why ya always say s' okay? What's okay? That I walked away that night or that m' here now?"

Your lips part slightly to say something, but you close them again. For his part, what Daryl expects to happen (what he's used to, more accurately: is that you'll equalize his frustration, or that you'll argue with him pointlessly) never happens. And it's not that Daryl wants that to happen, not with you, not ever, but it's all he knows.

“Look, I…” The way you sigh with overwhelming calm is more confusing to him than the fog of an argument, but it all disappears with your laughter. “Shit, I don't even know what I meant anymore. My point is, I need you to tell me what you want. If you tell me what you're looking for, whether it's a relationship, a fling, or something in between, I need you to tell me, and I'll tell you if I'm looking for that too. Maybe we can even come to an agreement.”

This time, when Daryl swallows, it's a little loud in the silence between you two, but he doesn't care anymore when you're the one who opened up the possibility of anything or everything, to that scary chance for him to have feelings for you.

“Ya'd be okay with being jus' a fling?” His voice is a whisper, somewhat incredulous, but when you nod, Daryl knows you can’t just be that, that there was nothing wrong with it, but not you, not something temporary, something that lasts only a moment. Yet he lets a short laugh, and a part of him laughs bitterly because a part of him still resists the absurd idea of something as silly as starting to feel something significant with you. “Yer confusin' as hell, woman.”

You laugh sarcastically.

“Ironic coming from you.”

Daryl smirks, his hand finding your cheek as his thumb slides across your lip, a second before he leans forward to press his mouth against yours again. He really, really didn't want anything new in his life, but at the same time, Daryl wants to keep hearing your voice, which filled with life when you talked about something you loved, because Daryl would listen attentively to every word you spoke, every bit of happiness hidden in the way you expressed yourself about something that is a part of you, wondering to himself what it would feel like to love something so much that it fills his empty soul, that it makes him wish for another day, to want to do something for a long time because passion blocked out all the bad that could come.

What his mind hadn't yet conceived was the idea that that something would be a person.

If you don't want to be tag, please let me know :) It's okay, promise!

@spookygothmommy @walkingtalkingsomething @m1nda0 @fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue @confusebiassbitch @onlyrealjoy @secretlettersfromyourlove @chateaujoon

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl dixon

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