#because the friend doesn’t really think it’s that bad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tinysunshine · 1 day ago

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

‎ ‎ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

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

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

word count: 13.4k

plot with porn, slight alternate universe.

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

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

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

daryl clings back.

“Cookies?”

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

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

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

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

Plans and Rick’s hope.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

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

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

Sushi.

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

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

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

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

The thought makes you smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek is still talking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Does Daryl know?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel special.

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

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

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

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

────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But god, the way he kisses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly.

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

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

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

────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except maybe Derek.

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do.

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

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

────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Daryl.

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

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

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

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

It’s the best compliment ever.

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

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

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

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

It’s a cookie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You found each other. You have each other.

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

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

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blushsturns · 1 day ago

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bad boy! matt and librarian! reader 𝜗𝜚

part three ⭑ where’d you go?

description: matt starts to worry when he doesn’t hear from you after your first date.

w/c: 2784

masterlist ♡ pt.2

all matt could think about was your date last night. how you both talked for hours, your beautiful smile when he’d tell a stupid joke, how your cheeks would turn a bright shade of pink when he’d compliment you and your eyes would pull away from his just for a moment to try and hide it, but he could always tell. he could read you very well. he was really good at reading people and he knew that his charm had an effect on you.

this was completely out of the ordinary for matt. some would say he has commitment issues. he’s only had one serious girlfriend in the past. the rest were all hookups and flings and he didn’t care enough about them if they stayed or left. he’d throw parties or attend them, hook up with whoever gave him the most attention, and then never speak to the girl again. he usually preferred it that way, but there was something about you. something different, refreshing, exciting. he usually could care less to see a girl again, but with you, he couldn’t wait to see you again every single time.

it was almost like an intoxicating drug that he just had to have. he needed his fix. he was hooked on you and he wasn’t sure how to process that information.

he hadn’t known you very long, but that wasn’t an issue. he already has learned so much about you and he wanted to keep learning more. during the date, he knew he didn’t talk much about himself when he should’ve, but he was always known to be a bit mysterious. he knew there was some kind of mending that needed to be fixed within him. he was more rough around the edges and closed off compared to his brothers, who were completely opposite. they didn’t care that he sold and smoked weed, hung around with the wrong crowd, or how he threw parties almost every weekend.

matt actually graduated at the top of his class in high school. he’s intelligent when he wants to actually put his mind to it. otherwise, he can’t be bothered. even though he had never stepped foot into the public library until the day he met you, he has a couple favorite authors that he hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet. he loved learning about you and hearing all of your stories, even if he could sense some of your walls were still up and you were guarding your heart. you were so innocent, so pure. matt was always known as the “bad boy” who didn’t give a fuck about anyone else around him

he didn’t live by the rules, didn’t really have a set plan for his life, probably smoked too much weed, and maybe hung around people who did bad things, but maybe, just maybe he had a soft spot for you. even though it hadn’t been that long, maybe you could help him see the good in life and within himself.

matt had just finished a deal, pocketing the money in his wallet and sliding the wallet is his jeans. he had texted you this afternoon asking if he could stop by at the library to see you today because he had to go out with his brothers tonight and he didn’t want to, he’d rather spend time with you. he already blew them off the last couple weeks and instead hung out with his friends who probably weren’t good for him. he wanted to at least see you today even if it was for just a couple minutes. god, he was turning into a lovesick puppy, wasn’t he?

“don’t be fuckin’ late, like you always are.” chris said sternly as he continued his intense match of fortnite without even looking away from his screen. “seriously, if you blow us off again i will cut off your fuckin’ dick and that’s a promise.”

“jesus, chris.” matt rolled his eyes, annoyance building up inside of him. he loved his brothers, but they infuriated the fuck out of him. nick was in his room doing god knows what. if he knew that he was talking to you and going to the public library, he’d never hear the fucking end of it. “i’ll be back and no i’m not fuckin’ tell you where i’m going.”

chris let a laugh erupt from his throat, his fingers working intensely against the controller, his eyes focusing in on the game. “whatever you say, mysterious matt.”

matt shook his head in disbelief before grabbing his keys and walking out the door and out to his car. it didn’t help that his brothers didn’t drive, so if they wanted to go anywhere, matt was the designated driver. he checked his phone one last time to see if you had texted him back. it had been a whole two hours and he hadn’t heard anything from you.

should he be worried? should he start to panic? he never felt this way before. usually if he doesn’t hear back from a girl, he wouldn’t care and just move on, but he couldn’t do that with you. there was something different about you, something special. he wanted to explore it, even if that meant stepping out of his comfort zone. he decided to just wait until he got to the library, not wanting to blow up your phone and started driving towards the library.

the entire time he was driving, his fingers anxiously tapped against the steering wheel, trying his best to stay focused on the road ahead. luckily the library wasn’t too far from his house, but in this scenario, it felt like it was taking forever to get there.

why did he care so much? it hadn’t been long since he met you and all he could do was think about you. it was like his brain was consumed of you and every part of you that he’s been able to witness so far. he wanted more, he needed more. this was a dangerous feeling and he wasn’t sure how far he was willing to go with it.

he quickly pulled into the library parking lot, noticing it was a bit more busy than he’s seen before. he couldn’t get out of his car fast enough, walking inside of the library and heading straight upstairs where he usually goes to look for you.

matt walked straight to the desk, but you weren’t there. he walked through each aisle, hoping to see you like he did last time with your cart and headphones on your cute little head, but you were no where in sight. now he was really starting to worry. he pulled out his phone to check if you texted him and you hadn’t. he sent you a quick text, asking where you were before stuffing his phone back into his pocket. where the hell did you go?

he didn’t want to ask anyone and have them wonder what the fuck he wanted as if he was a creep who was stalking you or something. he decided to check the children’s area which was downstairs, even though he assumed that could be a longshot. the library was huge, so he was trying not to panic yet.

it was a little silly to be walking into the children’s section at his grown ass age. there were bright colors all over the walls, a room with toys and a bunch of children playing and more bookshelves filled with children’s books. nobody seemed to pay any attention to him which was much to his benefit. just when he was about to turn the corner, he heard a familiar voice, but in more sing-song tone obviously meant for kids.

it was you.

right in front of him was a big room with frosted glass windows, but the door was open. the sign on the wall said “youth programming room”. he tilted his head to get a look inside and there you were. you sat in front of a group of 20 small children with a book in your hand as you read it aloud to them. you had an infectious smile on your face, the children giggling and clapping as you continued to sing and read the classic rhyming book.

“chicka chicka boom boom! will there be enough room? here comes h up the coconut tree!”

all the children giggled as you read and demonstrated what was happening, a wide smile on your face the entire time. god, you looked so fucking adorable and perfect. his body relaxed when he realized you were safe and not in any harm. your hair was curled with a bow clipped in the back, you wore a comfortable white sweater and a plaid skirt with black tights.

matt stood there against the doorway, his body leaning against the frame, his face softening and body continued to relax as he continued to watch you in awe. he never felt the way before, nor has he even bothered to show up at another girl’s work to make sure she was okay and see her for a few minutes.

he probably looked like a creep just standing there, but he didn’t care. the parents were with their children, making them swing their hands and dance as you continued to read along to the book in your hands. this lasted another two minutes and you wrapped it up, thanking everyone for coming and that’s when matt immediately darted away from the door and stood by the aisle of the books.

he waited for the crowd to clear out and made sure the coast was clear before returning back to the doorway. your back was turned and you were bending down to begin cleaning up. at this angle, he got the most perfect view of your ass in your skirt that hugged your curves to absolute perfection. he knew he shouldn’t be staring, especially not when you just finished singing to a bunch of children, but he couldn’t help it. you were too damn perfect to look at that it was impossible to look away.

you heard footsteps coming from behind you and immediately assumed it was your co-worker so you started to speak before even turning around. “just ended the story time now, i have to take my lunch and then head back upstairs to the desk to finish off my shift.”

“can i take you out to lunch?”

you immediately turn around when you realize it wasn’t your co-worker standing behind you, gasping in surprise with your hand placed on your sudden racing heart. your eyes widened, locking your eyes immediately with matt as he stood before you.

his lips curve up into a wicked grin when he realized you weren’t expecting him at all and you were still trying to catch your breath. “matt, what the hell? what are you doing? you scared the shit out of me!” you spoke through your teeth to try and be quiet, not wanting anyone to hear although it was just you two alone in the program room.

“you weren’t answering my texts and i wanted to say hi because i won’t get to see you tonight. i got a thing with my brothers tonight. couldn’t miss an opportunity to see my favorite librarian in action.” he flashed you a playful wink, his lips curving up into a wider grin.

your cheeks instantly turned a bright shade of pink, your gaze pulling away from his to look down at the ground for a moment before back up into his eyes. you hadn’t realized he witnessed you in action doing story time. as a librarian, you are sometimes needed in the kid’s department to do story time because you’re so good with kids even though your main job was to work with the adults upstairs. you agreed to do it because you didn’t mind seeing the little kids singing, laughing, dancing, and having a good time all because of a little story time that you put together.

“i’m sorry.” you said shyly, biting gently onto your bottom lip. “i got really busy today, if you couldn’t tell. it’s not usually like this, but sometimes they need me to help out down here with the kids.”

he nodded his head as he listened to you intently, his eyes staying locked onto yours the entire time even when you had pulled your gaze away from his. you met his eyes once again, your cheeks only growing more warm just by staring at him. sometimes he was so pretty to look at it and with his ocean blue eyes, it was hard to stop staring, but you got flustered way too easily.

“yeah i saw that. those kids adore the shit outta you, huh?” he flashed you a grin, wiggling his eyebrows at you in a playful manner.

you let out a soft giggle and nod your head, placing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “yeah, i love them. i know it’s such a nerdy thing to say, but i love my job even if i have to sing sometimes.”

matt let out a soft chuckle at your words. “i think you sounded bad ass. is there anything you can’t do, pretty librarian?”

the nickname just rolls off his tongue now and it makes you feel warm and fuzzy all over every single time. you felt your cheeks burning at this point and you hadn’t even been standing here with him very long. “you’ll probably find out one of these days the more you spend with me.”

“i don’t think that’s possible.” he said a little more serious now, his face softening as he spoke.

you decided to lighten the mood again, a soft smirk playing on your lips. “so, did you miss me when you didn’t hear back from me or what?”

he immediately let out a soft chuckle, placing his hands in his pockets. he so desperately wanted to pull you close to him and hold you, but he knew this wasn’t the right place and time. he also wanted to take his time with you, which only seemed to surprise him considering that was never something he cared to do in his past. “so maybe i did. you had me worried for a moment there, pretty. i don’t like to be worried.”

you rolled your eyes at him playfully, lightly tapping him in the chest with your finger. “well i’m here now. how can i make it up to you?”

his lips immediately curve up into a slight smirk at your words. “two things.” he put up two of his fingers as he spoke which happened to make your gaze fall to his fingers, noticing how long and pretty his fingers were. “one, let me take you out to lunch.”

you nodded your head slowly at his words, trying to keep your focus on him instead of his hands before you. “okay, that’s doable.”

“and number two..and hear me out when i ask this.”

you raise your eyebrow up at him in a curious manner, a puzzled expression appearing on your face. “okay, why does it sound like i have to brace myself for what you’re about to ask me?”

he took a step closer to you so you were inches apart now, his hand moving up to place a strand of your hair over your ear which sent chills down your spine, your breath feeling like it got caught in your throat. you looked down at his lips before back up into his eyes, taking in a shaky breath. “just relax, pretty. it’s not bad. i promise.” his words were reassuring, soothing, promising.

you nodded your head before allowing your head to lean slightly towards his hand as it rested against the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly tracing your softened skin.

“so i’m having a party at my place tomorrow night. i really want you to come. it’s only fair.” he stopped speaking for a moment to follow your eyes, his fingers continuing to lightly caress your neck. he leaned in closer to you so his lips were now lingering against your ear, his breath hot and heavy against it as he spoke, “i’ve seen your world, but you haven’t seen much of mine. what do you say, pretty girl?”

you take in a shaky breath, the feeling of his lips against your ear, his fingers still grazing across your skin and his body merely touching yours causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies. you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, but how could you say no when he makes such a good point?

“i’ll be there.”

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a/n:

shoutout to @camzeecorner for giving me the idea of librarian!reader reading to the kiddos. here is the ask they sent me!

thank you guys for all the love on this au! i’ve had so much fun writing this. next part will have some angst and possibly start heating up so get ready for that. :)

love you all so much!

-nessa ღ

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fic #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo au #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt x you #sturniolo fic #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets fic #librarian!reader #bad boy!matt #blushsturnsღ

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back2bluesidex · 3 days ago

Text

Misconception - MYG ft. KSJ

Pairing: Yoongi X Fem!reader X Seokjin

Theme: Angst, friends to ? au, cheating

Wordcount: 1.2k+

Summary: You and Yoongi have been friends for nine years, you have loved him for five of those. But reciveing nothing but pain from his end you decide to move on only for Yoongi to come breaking down your resolve.

Warnings: Jealous Yoongi, bad decisions, kissing without permission, cheating

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: Just a little piece from Six Degrees of Separation.

Read the full Series here

Yoongi knows it’s unfair and childish but he doesn’t like this Kim Seokjin at all.

For one, he is unbelievably handsome.

For two, he seems to really like you.

And Yoongi never liked the guys who liked you too much. While back then, he never acted upon his disapproval because he was sure of his irreplaceable position in your life, now he is not sure anymore.

His eyes land on you with every little chance he gets tonight. He is aware that he is staring at you much more than it’s socially acceptable but honestly, he doesn’t give a damn.

While staring at you, he had made a couple of eye contacts with Seokjin, which really pissed him off.

He doesn’t like being caught red-handed.

“Can you show me the way to the restroom?” Seokjin’s voice is as sweet as his face. Yoongi absolutely hates it.

“Sure. That door.” he vaguely points towards the washroom. Seokjin leaves but not before giving him a cryptic glance.

As soon as the man is inside the restroom, he finds his feet working on autopilot and in moments he is standing before you.

“You look good.” he says shamelessly as if he didn’t burn you with his cigarette just a year back. Your face morphs into hurt, then sarcasm all within a second.

“Thanks.” avoiding looking at him, you take a large sip from your glass. Your ignorance stings him like a freshly injected needle.

“Have you eaten anything? Or are you drinking again on an empty stomach? You know you don’t do good-” it’s his habit to babysit you and old habits die hard.

“The Yoongi that pushed me that night at Jimin’s place and the Yoongi before me are completely different. Why are you pretending so hard, Yoongi? Are you afraid I might step in between you two? If you are then don’t worry. I am not as bad as you think of me. Chill.” you cut him off, try to leave him behind but he stops you. His hand holds you in place and his heart thumps from the skin-to-skin connection.

“I am not pretending. I am repenting. I- I am extremely ashamed for the way I behaved with you that night. I regret everything. Every single thing, Y/N.” so many unsaid words threaten to spill out of his throat. He is not sure about anything anymore.

Not about himself, not about Hyeri, not about you.

“I don’t know how that matters anymore. You can’t take back what you said and did and I.. I can’t go back being your friend. So, let’s just stop here. Congratulations on taking your relationship with my cousin a step ahead. My good wishes will always be with you two.” you smile but it falters.

“Y/N, please-” he tries to say something, anything that will make you listen to him. But fate has different plans.

“Yoongi, what are you doing here?” Hyeri butts in and the only chance Yoongi could get with you, slips away right through the gaps between his fingers.

“Attention everyone.” Hyeri claps her hands, “thanks for joining us this evening. As you know me and my boyfriend finally decided to move in together after dating for five years. But there is more to it. Not only did we decide to move on but also to finally put a ring on each other as the first thing in the new year. So, today also serves as the official invitation for you all to our engagement ceremony which will be held sometime next month. Please bless us with your well wishes. Even though we have fifteen minutes left, a very happy new year to you all!”

Yoongi’s blood boils. He sees red. Hyeri has truly crossed the line now. They have no fucking plan of exchanging any kind of rings for at least six more months. She is all over the place with her lies, competition to walk over you - It was the last nail in his coffin.

He will have to take a step now.

“What do you think you are doing?” he seethes, anger pours through his eyes.

Hyeri acts all innocent again, “what?”

“You know what I am talking about.”

“Oh that? I just said it on a whim. Chill, it’s just rings. Let’s get it in installments. We can invite only a few people and get done with the engagement ceremony-” “You know what? Fuck you.” Yoongi cuts her off and leaves for the balcony.

It’s already past midnight, a new year, a completely new day. And he will make sure to make it a new beginning for him.

His heart drops to his stomach when an unexpected sight unfolds before him.

Your lips are lost in Seokjin’s mouth. He is holding you by your waist, while you wrap him by his neck. He has draped his blazer on you to keep you warm.

You two kiss and kiss and kiss not giving a damn about being caught by anyone in the action. Unbeknownst to Yoongi, his teeth girt with each other.

This. this could have been him and you only had he not have Hyeri - wait. What is he even thinking?

He clears his throat to break through the troubled thoughts that have clouded his mind and reduced visibility to zero.

You two part your mouths being alert of the presence of a third person.

You look at him, he looks at you. So many things remain unsaid, unchanged but at the same time blooming into existence.

“I think it’s time we leave. I will get the car ready.” Seokjin announces, sounding breathless due to the kiss.

“I will quickly see Hyeri.” You nod.

“I will walk you out.” Yoongi joins even when he absolutely didn’t have to.

You two get into the elevator after you exchange a quick bye and a hug with Hyeri. She had pinned him down with a glare but he didn’t care. He needs to talk to you, even when he doesn’t know what he should say.

“Thanks for coming.” he starts.

You scoff, “Are you mocking me?”

He turns his head to look at you. Your lipstick is a little smeared around the small of your mouth - it’s Seokjin’s doing, he wants to rub it off, preferably with his tongue.

Fuck! No! He scolds himself before opening his mouth to offer an explanation, “No. You joining us tonight have been fruitful to me. I got answers to so many of my questions.”

“What?” you chuckle humorlessly, “what question? That you are finally ready to tie the knot? That you-”

Yoongi grabs you by the lapels of your winter coat and crashes his lips on you. Later, he will blame it on his intrusive thoughts. Now, he will let himself enjoy it.

He kisses you with intent, sucks your lower lip as if it’s his first meal after days. You stay unmoving, not kissing him but not pushing him away either.

He bites on your lower lip, asking for entrance. You put your hands on his chest and push him away lightly.

Your pupils are blown out. There are so many questions dancing around your eyes. Yoongi is sure he has answers to none of it.

Your face remains blank.

“I won’t ask you what the fuck was that. Guess we are even now.” you say. The elevator dings as if to rescue you from him. You walk out without glancing at him again.

He remains in the elevator, watches as the door shuts, cutting you off of his line of sight.

Yoongi really fucked up a big time.

Read the full Series here

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harrywavycurly · 2 days ago

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Handle With Care: Are You Okay?

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, drinking, Harry is still a bit of an asshole and slight angsty bits

Tag List: @gmikaelson @ell0ra-br3kk3r @tulips4harry @mellamolayla @mads3502 @empathyroad @idk199o @sassamanda77 @maudie-duan @macy-tpwk @coralferrio1 @stylesftcher @mema10 @cherryloveshs

A/N: Harry is showing he can be nice-ish and I love that for you, but also this part is kinda angsty👀

Summary: Harry has a party that ends with someone knocking on your door at an odd hour📦✨

Harry smiles as he walks around his crowded living room so he can reach his kitchen and he’s only mildly confused as to who some of the people are that give him friendly nods and waves, surely he knows them but just has had one too many drinks to remember the exact details of meeting them. Throwing a party wasn’t originally on his agenda for the evening but honestly he needed a distraction from the girl who lives two floors up and is entirely too nice to him that he can’t seem to stop thinking about since he met her only a few days ago. You have somehow wormed your way into his mind and he’s not sure when you’ll ever leave or if he even wants you to. It’s gotten so bad he can’t even make himself a cup of coffee in the morning without wondering if you like coffee or are you a tea person and if you do like tea which ones are your favorite and how do you like it? And frankly Harry feels like he’s gone full on looney because he knows how he’s treated you since meeting you so the odds of him ever getting to know how you take your tea or if you like coffee is very slim but it doesn’t stop him from wondering.

“This is a great party.” Harry tries to be polite as Heather, the girlfriend of one of his fraternity brothers leans in to give him a half hug once he enters the kitchen. He really does try to give her a nice genuine smile but all he can think of when she hugs him is how her perfume is far too sweet smelling and it makes him miss a certain floral scent that has a hint of something else he hasn’t been able to put his finger on because he’s not sure what exactly makes the sunshine smell but he thinks it’s something citrusy.

“Thanks.” He knows his tone isn’t full of enough excitement as it should be considering there’s a party happening around him but he can’t help it. Because as it turns out surrounding himself with random people hasn’t helped in the way he thought it would because instead of the party being a distraction it only seems to amplify the fact his crowded living room is missing the one person he wants to see.

Heather doesn’t bother asking what’s wrong, too distracted by someone grabbing her hand and leading her out of the kitchen to the makeshift dance floor that’s just the space between the couch and his entertainment center. Harry takes the opportunity now that he finds himself alone in his kitchen to let out a deep sigh and lean against his counter near the fridge. Normally he’s a better host, doing his duty to make sure people are having fun and don’t need anything but tonight he can’t be bothered to care if everyone is enjoying themselves or not because honestly he kind of hopes if they’re having a horrible time then they’ll all leave and he can be left alone to his thoughts that somehow always lead him right back to you.

“Harry where are your-” Niall stops talking when he notices his curly haired friend is leaning against his kitchen counter, hands gripping the edge and a frown on his face with his eyes closed. “Harry?” Niall takes a step towards him so he can place a hand on his shoulder but as soon as Niall reaches his hand out Harry’s eyes open causing both men to be startled and jump a bit.

“Jesus Christ Niall what the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? You’re the one who’s sleeping during his own bloody party you twat!”

“Wasn’t s’leeping.” Harry mumbles making Niall roll his eyes as he walks over to the sink that Harry has filled with ice and various bottles of liquor and beer.

“What’s got you lookin all doom and gloom huh? Your ex here or-”

“I’m not all doom and gloom you asshole I’m just tired that’s all.” Harry says with a sigh as he runs a hand over his face before looking out into his living room.

“Tired huh? I’m callin’ bullshit mate.” Harry turns his head just as Niall cracks open a beer, a smug looking smile on his face as he stares back at him.

“Oh fuck off. Just go back to flirting with everyone that smiles at you and leave me alone.” Niall laughs and shakes his head before taking a sip of his beer while Harry crosses his arms over his chest as a scowl takes over his face because his annoying Irish friend won’t just let him sulk in his own kitchen by himself.

“Why don’t you just go invite her to the party and be done with it?” At this Harry lets out a scoff as if what Niall just had the nerve to say to him is the most absurd thing he’s ever heard.

“Am I supposed to know who you’re referring-”

“Oh my god dude you’re actually fuckin’ annoying me now.” Niall puts his beer down on the counter next to the sink so he can walk over and put both hands on Harry’s shoulders. “Go ask her to come down for a drink so you can stop mopping around like a wet blanket because it’s getting on my nerves so if you don’t go do it then I will.” Harry narrows his eyes into a harsh glare as Niall tells him that he’ll go to your door because if there’s something that Niall knows about Harry it’s that he’s always been a jealous person so the image of Niall knocking on your door instead of him is enough to make his jaw clench and his blood want to start boiling.

“Like hell you will.” Harry snaps as he practically shoves Niall off of him, while to anyone watching this would look like the beginnings of a fight it’s actually exactly the kind of reaction Niall was aiming for so he just steps back with a smile on his face. “If anyone is going to go bother her it’s gonna be me you wonky kneed-”

“Okay okay I get it I won’t go knock on her door.” Niall says with a laugh as he goes to grab his beer off the counter. “Just be quick with it you lanky fuck.” Niall adds as he turns to head back into the living room to join the rest of the people at the party leaving Harry standing in his kitchen annoyed that he just fell for whatever trick Niall just played on him.

“Fuckin asshole.” He mumbles to himself as he runs a hand through his hair while heading for his front door. He grabs his keys off the table by the door and pats his pockets to double check he has his phone because if you do decline his invite then maybe at least he can try to get your number, just so next time he can properly invite you instead of asking you to come over two hours after the party starts.

You reach over and turn the lamp on your nightstand off before getting comfortable in your bed for the night. Seeing as it’s nearly one in the morning you let out a sleepy sigh as you close your eyes. You don’t drift off the sleep right away, your mind is still going a mile a minute with random thoughts of the green eyed boy that helped you move. While for the most part he wasn’t the friendliest person you’ve come across you still can’t help but think that maybe he was just having a rough few days having to adjust from living in a giant house with ten other guys to living alone, after all it can be hard being alone with just you and your thoughts all the time and Niall did tell you Harry was very popular so maybe he just doesn’t do well alone. And to your annoyance no matter how rude he may have been it doesn’t change the fact he is extremely handsome with his green eyes and curly brown hair and nice jawline, and not to mention the tattoos scattered in random places on his arms it makes it that much harder to just forget about him.

As if the universe can hear the inner workings of your mind you suddenly hear a very loud knock on your front door. You open your eyes and sit up to see if maybe someone just accidentally knocked on your door, mistaking it for someone else’s but when you hear a second much more deliberate sounding knock you know that’s not the case. You lean over and turn on your lamp before tossing the covers off your legs and slipping your feet into your fuzzy pink and orange polka dotted slippers. You think that something must be wrong with whoever is on the other side of the door as you hear a third knock, so you quickly rush to turn on your kitchen light before heading to your front door.

“Maybe she’s not-” Harry freezes as you swing open your door, while he was hoping to see you again he never in his wildest dreams would’ve imagined he’d see you answering the door in a pink and yellow tye dyed nightgown that seems to be a little loose fitting as one of the straps is dangerously close to falling off your shoulder.

“Harry? Are-are you okay?” Your voice is filled with worry as you look him up and down, silently wondering why he’s dressed in skinny jeans and a long sleeve black knitted shirt that allows his tattoos to show through when it’s nearly one in the morning but when you don’t see any obvious signs of a possible injury you let you eyes flicker up to his face. When you see his eyes are wide and his mouth is slightly hung open you all of a sudden realize what you’re wearing and instantly cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to cover yourself up.

“Uhm I uh.” He clears his throat and gives his head a shake as if it’ll help clear his mind of all the wildly inappropriate thoughts he’s having all because you’re standing there in your nightgown. “I’m having a party.” You raise an eyebrow as he practically spits the words out as if they caused a bad taste in his mouth and he needed them gone.

“Oh uhm okay when is your uh party?”

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

“It started two hours ago.” While this is the most the two of you have talked without him saying something incredibly mean or with a snarky attitude you can’t help but feel like something is off with him.

“So why are you here if you have a party going on right now?” You ask and Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Niall told me to come invite you.” Harry doesn’t mean for it to come off as if Niall is the only reason he’s standing in your doorway at such an odd hour but he can tell by the way your shoulders slump and you just nod at him, that is exactly how you’re taking it.

“Well that’s sweet of Niall but-”

“I’m sorry about the plates.” You quirk a brow at his sudden outburst while Harry lets out a groan as he closes his eyes and looks up towards the ceiling. “Fuck fuck fuck this is going so bad.” You hear him mumble as he runs booths hand over his face and you can’t help but wonder if he meant to say that in his head instead of actually voicing it out loud.

“It’s okay.” Your soothing voice makes Harry open his eyes and look down at you as you uncross your arms so you can reach out and place a hand on his forearm.

“Really Harry it’s fine and thank you for the invite but uhm it’s a little late so maybe next time?” He only catches about every third word that leaves your mouth as he stares at the hand that’s resting on his arm, he feels the same sort of electric shock that he felt the first time you touched him being sent all the way to his toes. He blinks a few times and he wants to place his hand over yours so you can’t move it but he doesn’t so he just has to watch in silence as you remove your hand from him and place it by your side.

“Did-did you feel that?” He knows he sounds crazy the moment he asks the question but he really doesn’t care because he has to know if you felt the same zap he did or if he really is losing his mind.

“Feel what?” You look at his face as he lets out a deep sigh and that’s when you notice the slight red tint to his cheeks and the way his eyes are a bit glossed over and it hits you, he’s drunk.

“That like weird zap when you touched me? You felt it right?”

“Harry I think you’ve just had too much to drink.”

“No no I’m not drunk-well I’m not that drunk.” You just give him a soft smile as he places a hand on his hip while the other rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s like when you touch someone with too much static and you shock them but-but it’s a little different because I only feel it with you.” Harry knows looking back he will remember this as the moment he officially feels like he has fully lost his mind because the look on your face is one that tells him you don’t know what he’s talking about meaning you don’t feel it, it’s just him.

“Maybe it’s from my slippers?” Both of you look down at the fuzzy things on your feet but Harry knows that’s not what caused the shock because you weren’t wearing those when he felt it the first time. “Or maybe it’s-”

“It’s nothing.” He can’t handle you trying to explain away something he knows there’s no real explanation for so he just rubs his lips together and turns to look down your hallway before letting out a huff. “I’m drunk.” It’s a lie and he knows it but he can’t be bothered to care because he feels as if his heart just plummeted down to his feet and he just wants to turn and run away. It’s as if all of a sudden he’s back to the Harry you first met, his eyes are looking at you with a slight glare to them and his jaw is clenched while his hands are balled into fists at his side as if standing in front of you is making him upset in some way.

“Harry I’m-” You try to reach for him again but he takes a step back making the corners of your mouth dip downwards into a slight frown.

“This was a waste of time.” Is all Harry says before he’s turning and making his way down the hall towards the elevators leaving you standing in your doorway feeling confused as to how you somehow caused him to feel so upset that he couldn’t stand to be around you for a moment longer.

To say Harry is angry is an understatement, he should’ve known going to your apartment wasn’t going to go well because why would it? None of his previous encounters with you have ended well minus when he took a donut from you but even then he’s pretty sure he all but whispered his thank you before he left your apartment. So when he makes it back to his apartment he finds himself instantly scanning his still crowded living room for a pair of blue eyes and over bleached blonde hair that belong to the man he blames for ruining his evening and possibly his chances at ever seeming even semi normal to you. Thankfully he doesn’t have to search long before he finds Niall leaning against his wall near the hallway that his bedroom is on, a beer in his hand and a smile on his face as some girl who Harry doesn’t know chats to him about her plans for the upcoming weekend.

Niall catches Harry heading right for him and he can tell by the way his nostrils are flaring and his jaw is set that he’s not happy. So he politely excuses himself and meets Harry half way, but before Harry can even begin to go off on his Irish friend he feels Niall’s hand wrap around his arm. Harry doesn’t have time to react as Niall drags him down his hallway and shoves him into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

“What happened?” Niall’s tone is harsh as he reaches over and flicks the light switch on the wall turning on the light attached to the ceiling fan while Harry glares at him as he brushes off his arm where Niall’s hand was making Niall roll his eyes at his friend’s dramatics.

“What happened is you shoved your nose in my business and now she thinks I’m fucking crazy.”

“What did you say? Did you get her number at least?”

“Doesn’t matter what I said it all went to shit and no I didn’t get her fucking number you asshole.”

“You were only gone ten minutes maybe fifteen so how the hell did you manage to fuck it up that quickly?”

“It’s just a talent I have apparently.” Harry says sarcastically as he runs both hands through his hair while he begins to pace the length of his bed that’s in the middle of the room.

“Don’t get all mad and shit okay? But Harry do you maybe-”

“Do I maybe what Niall?”

“Love her?” Niall waits a moment for an over dramatic reaction to his question but when all Harry does is stop pacing and stare at Niall with wide eyes he thinks that maybe his guess is correct and Harry is just now being hit with the reality of it.

“Wha-what did you just ask me?” Harry stumbles over his words as all of a sudden he feels like a stack of bricks just landed on him one by one and with each one he’s hit with he gains a little more of an understanding as to why he’s been acting so strangely around you and why you’re all he can think about.

“Uh I asked if you maybe love her? I know love at first sight is a thing an all so maybe that’s what’s going on?” Niall explains with a shrug as Harry slowly sits on the edge of his bed and lets out a shaky breath.

“I don’t-don’t know what’s wrong with me Niall.” He blinks a few times as a lump begins to form in his throat. “I feel fucking crazy because she’s all I think about and I just met her and then you ask that and now -now I just don’t know what to do.” Niall feels a little useless as he watches one of his bestfriends break down right in front of him, so he just takes a few steps so he can take a seat next to him on his bed.

“Well for starters you can buy her some new plates.” Niall jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood as he places a hand on Harry’s shoulder. But it doesn’t work at all as Harry lets out a groan and covers his face in his hands.

“How do you know about the plates?” Niall chuckles as he gives Harry’s shoulder a good squeeze before dropping his hand away.

“As if that girl would just drop a box of her own stuff and then set it on her counter upside down.”

“I’ve never dropped a box before.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I love her but I think-” Harry lets out a deep breath as he looks down at his hands that are in his lap. “I really like her.” He admits making Niall smile as he stands up off the bed and takes a step towards Harry’s bedroom door.

“Then you’ll just have to fix it mate and if anyone can get themselves out of a tricky spot it’s you.” Niall says as he turns so he can face Harry, it’s the best he can do to reassure him that it’ll be okay he just has to work on it a bit.

“Thanks.” With that Niall just gives him a little nod and a reassuring smile before he turns and opens the door so he can go back to the party.

Harry lays back on his bed with his feet still on the floor and stares at his ceiling and even though he has a party happening just outside his bedroom door he finds himself preferring the solitude of his bedroom so he can think of possible ways of fixing this extremely messed up situation he’s found himself in. Because Harry decides in this very moment he doesn’t like the way your face looks with a frown on it and he surely doesn’t like it when he knows he’s the reason you’re frowning so he’s going to do whatever it takes to erase any the negative thoughts you have of him and replace them with good ones. And as of right now he is done being an asshole it’s time he shows you just how nice and charming he can be because as he just admitted to Niall, he really likes you.

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fromthelakes · 3 days ago

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Emily Prentiss Headcanons pt.2

Vonnegut Devotee: Emily loves Kurt Vonnegut and has a well-loved copy of her favorite novel that’s falling apart at the seams. She keeps it in her go-bag, pages dog-eared and full of scribbled marginalia. It’s her security blanket during flights or sleepless nights. Emily can and will quote Vonnegut in casual conversation, but only when she’s with someone who will appreciate it.

Scrabble Queen: Despite her polished demeanor, Emily is shockingly competitive at board games. One of her favorites is Scrabble, and she has a knack for playing obscure, high-scoring words that make everyone else groan. Penelope has forbidden her from playing against her because “it’s like bringing a machine gun to a knife fight.”

Wombat Enthusiast: Emily fell in love with wombats during a random late-night documentary binge. They quickly became one of her favorite animals, partly because of their cubic poop, but mostly because they’re tough and weirdly adorable—kind of like her in a way. She once went down a rabbit hole (or a wombat burrow?) and learned everything there is to know about wombats.

Fixation Cycle: When Emily discovers something new that interests her, she dives in headfirst. Her apartment is full of evidence of past hyperfixations, like piles of books on a single obscure topic, and a vintage vinyl collection she got way too into for about six months. You’ll know she feels comfortable around you if she starts infodumping about her current interests.

Chosen Family: Emily is fiercely protective of her chosen family. She would (and has) dropped everything to help a friend in need, whether it’s showing up unannounced with takeout or flying halfway across the world for a team member in trouble. She also keeps tiny mementos of her BAU family—like a doodle Penelope made or a silly photo of Spencer from a case. She’s secretly too sentimental to throw them away.

Silent Support: Emily doesn’t need to say much to make someone feel better. She has a quiet presence that can fill a room, one that’s somehow calming and encouraging without being too overbearing. People tend to gravitate towards her when they need space to think, and Emily is comfortable just being there, allowing people the time they need.

Unspoken Bond: Her friendship with JJ feels layered, like there’s something unspoken beneath it. There’s a certain softness Emily adopts around her, as if JJ is the exception to her usual walls. She knows when JJ needs words and when she just needs a quiet hug or a cup of tea placed in her hands. When JJ’s upset, Emily is the first one to offer her a shoulder to cry on.

Flustered Charm: For all her confidence, Emily gets adorably flustered when a woman flirts with her. It’s rare, but if a woman catches her off guard, she might stumble over her words. She’s really good at wing-womaning her friends but terrible at actually flirting for herself. Penelope has had to intervene on her behalf to stop Emily from sabotaging her own game with bad jokes.

Chocolate Connoisseur: Emily’s weakness is chocolate. She’s a chocolate snob and can taste the difference between “good” chocolate and mediocre brands. She will, however, eat any chocolate if it’s paired with wine. She has a stack in her desk that she swears is for emergencies but dips into almost daily.

Tea Ritual: While coffee is her go-to, Emily has a late-night tea ritual when she’s too wired to sleep. She likes blends like lapsang souchong or anything smoky. Emily's tea collection is borderline ridiculous. She’ll try any obscure blend, and her cabinet is overflowing with tins and bags she hasn’t touched in years.

A/N: Heyy! A lot of you seemed to love my "not-so-cute" Emily headcanons, so here's part 2 with some softer headcanons to make up for the heartache I might've caused. Some of them have some neurodivergent vibes to them because... I am autistic and I say so. Also the wombat thing kinda came out of nowhere, but I stand by it.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss headcanon #criminal minds #criminal minds evolution #character headcanons

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daeniradraconis · 5 hours ago

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Age Is Just a Number…Right? - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke. Age gap. Jack being a menace as usual, making sure you're not getting away that easy. Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, flirtation, age gap (6 years)

Note: Hey, lovelies! So, originally, this fic was all about Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith, but then I realized—Will is 19, and honestly, he’s just a baby to me. Even if he said he loves older woman. Boy go back to kinder garden. (Sorry Will, love you, I promise!) So, I decided to swap in the Hughes boys instead. I’ve gotta be honest, it gave me a bit of a headache. Now, this started as a quick, short fic. I swear, I had every intention of keeping it short. But, well… 7048 words later, here we are. I got hit with a ton of ideas and feelings, and the story just kind of... grew on me. You’ll probably notice the tone/style shifts halfway through, and I’m definitely sorry for that!

But hey, I hope you all enjoy it despite the wild ride! ❤️ For more fun: masterlist

The first thing you notice is warmth.

A heavy arm draped over your waist. The steady rise and fall of breath against the back of your neck. The scent of clean laundry, cologne, and something distinctly him clinging to the pillow beside you.

The second thing you notice—you are not in your own bed.

Your stomach flips as your brain reboots, sluggishly piecing together fragments of last night.

The blind date.

Luke.

His charming smile. The way his chestnut curls fell into his eyes when he laughed. The way he leaned in when you spoke, like you were the only person in the room. The teasing brush of his fingers against yours when he reached for his drink. The electricity that crackled between you when you finally caved—when he kissed you outside the bar, his hands firm at your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then… more.

Your face burns as memory after memory floods in. His hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Carefully, you shift beneath the covers, untangling yourself from his hold. Luke stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm slipping away as you ease yourself upright.

That’s when it really hits you.

He looks so young.

His chestnut curls are a mess, his lips slightly parted, his entire face softened in sleep. He looks… peaceful. Innocent, almost.

A strange unease settles in your stomach.

Your gaze flickers around the unfamiliar room. It’s nice but lived-in—hockey gear shoved into the corner, a few discarded clothes on a chair. Your eyes land on the nightstand, where his wallet sits slightly open.

You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t.

But something about last night nags at you.

Just a quick peek. Just to make sure.

Fingers trembling, you reach for it, flip it open.

And your heart stops.

Luke Hughes. Age: 21.

Twenty fucking one.

As in, young enough to still pull all-nighters for fun. As in, could still be in college.

And you? You are twenty-seven.

Oh. My. God.

Your hands fly to your phone as you furiously type out a message to your friend.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SET ME UP WITH A 21-YEAR-OLD. I AM A GROWN WOMAN. I PAY FOR MY OWN HEALTH INSURANCE."

No response.

Coward.

Panic thrums in your veins as you stare at Luke—still peacefully asleep, completely unaware that you are having a full-blown identity crisis in his bed.

You need to leave. Now.

Right?

But for some reason, you hesitate.

Because Luke… Luke is the first guy in a long time who actually made you interested. Who made you laugh so hard you snorted into your drink. Who listened—really listened—when you talked, instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. And, well. The man or more like a boy, had managed to get you to orgasm. Twice!

Which, considering your track record, felt almost miraculous.

Your past partners had barely managed to get you there once—if at all.

And now you’re just supposed to sneak out of here like it never happened? Like he was just another bad decision?

Your stomach twists.

But then you glance at the wallet again. Twenty-one.

Yeah. You need to go.

Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, you scan the room for your clothes. Your shirt is on the floor, your jeans halfway under the bed. You grab them quickly, yanking them on with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Bra? Found. Socks? One is missing, but you’ll live.

Once fully dressed, you tiptoe to the door. Your shoes. They’re outside the room. You remember kicking them off in the hallway.

One deep breath.

You ease the door open, peeking into the dimly lit living room.

Empty.

Good.

You take two careful steps out, eyes locked on your shoes near the front door. Almost there. Just a few more—

“Busted.”

You scream.

Not a blood-curdling horror movie scream, but a very real, very startled yelp that absolutely does not help you maintain any dignity in this situation.

Your body jolts like you’ve just been electrocuted, arms flailing wildly as you spin toward the voice.

There, sprawled across the couch, is a guy watching you like this is the best morning of his life.

Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Light brown hair, messy in a way that suggests he just woke up. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes filled with pure mischief.

And a smirk so unbearably smug that you immediately want to punch it off his face.

You clutch your chest, heart racing. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?!”

The guy grins wider. “Damn. Didn’t even recognize me? That hurts.”

“Am I supposed to?”You blink, still catching your breath.

His smirk falters for half a second before returning full force. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.” He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of rare specimen. “You actually have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?” Your frown deepens.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like this is somehow the greatest tragedy to ever befall him.

“You’re telling me,” he starts, sitting up slightly, resting his arms on his knees, fully entertained, “that you came home with my brother, slept with him, and have no idea who we are?”

Your stomach drops.

Brother?

You knew Luke had brothers—he mentioned it—but you had no idea they were famous.

Your eyes flick toward the bedroom, then back to him. “You’re—wait, you’re one of Luke’s brothers?”

He snorts. “Wow. No recognition at all. That is humbling.”

“Should I recognize you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs, mock-offended, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess I’m only one of the most famous people in this city.”

You blink, a little thrown off. “…You’re a local weatherman?”

He chokes, eyes widening. “A what?!”

“You’re acting like I should know you,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t keep up with the news, but you definitely have the vibe of a guy who points at maps for a living.”

He definitely doesn’t. If anything, he looks more like a kooky stripper with an annoyingly fit body. But there’s no way you’re feeding his ego—this idiot would probably take it as a compliment.

For a split second, he just stares at you, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Then, as if the tension snaps, he howls—full-body laughter, throwing his head back and wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the irritation bubbling up. “Glad I could contribute to your morning entertainment.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says between gasps for air, leaning forward with an infectious grin. “This is amazing. Incredible. I live for moments like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, your patience wearing thin. “Moments like what?” you snap, unable to hide the rising edge in your voice. Honestly, you’re just relieved Luke didn’t inherit Jack’s over-the-top, obnoxious personality. If he had, you probably would’ve bailed on this blind date five minutes in.

“Moments where I get to witness something so spectacularly awkward, so painfully embarrassing, that it will sustain me for weeks.”

You glare at him with pure annoyance. “I hate you already.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That wounds me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Oh, no doubt.” He smirks, and for a moment, it almost reminds you of Luke—though the two brothers couldn’t look more different. But that same confidante smile? It’s unmistakable. “Especially since I now have the upper hand in every conversation we ever have from here on out.”

“We’re never having another conversation after this!” You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

He just grins wider, shaking his head like he’s heard that before. “That’s what you think.”

You exhale sharply, fed up with the entire exchange. “Look, I’m leaving. Forget you ever saw me.”

“Not a chance.” He leans back against the couch, thoroughly amused. “You’re trying to sneak out of my baby brother’s room like a damn criminal. This is gold.”

You scowl again. “I’m not sneaking out.” You fumble with your shoes, trying to get them on while defending yourself. Luckily, the hallway and living room are one open space, making your escape a bit less awkward.

“You literally just tiptoed past me like you’re starring in Mission Impossible.”

You groan. "I was trying not to wake him up." Rolling your eyes, you keep wrestling with your damn laces—of all times to betray you, it had to be now. Frustration bubbles up as you huff, "I need to go."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

You freeze mid-motion, exhaling hard through your nose. "...Just because."

"That's not an answer." His arms fold across his chest, his gaze pressing into you like he’s daring you to crack.

Your stomach twists. Heat rises to your face. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to give him the satisfaction—but the words rip out anyway.

“Because I just found out I slept with a 21-year-old, okay?! I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference! That’s a whole presidential term and a little extra! That’s a—”

You stop, realizing how ridiculous it sounds now that you're saying it.

Jack stares at you, blinking. There’s a long silence before you speak again, but his expression shows no understanding of the mental chaos you’re in.

You sigh and tug at your hair in frustration. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought maybe he was older, and now… I just don’t know how to feel.”

Jack, for the first time, softens his teasing expression. But it’s clear he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying.

“Well,” he shrugs casually, “you’re still not leaving. You’re stuck here until Luke wakes up.”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, stubborn.

“Yes, you are!”

Before you can argue, you hear movement from the bedroom.

“Jack, why are you yelling?”

Shit.

You freeze.

Jack just grins wider.

You turn, and there he is—Luke, standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair an absolute mess, looking at you with adorable confusion.

Jack smirks. “Oh, you know. Just chatting with your date about how she was totally about to dip.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Luke’s voice is a mix of confusion and hurt, and suddenly, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You shift awkwardly, caught in the middle of it all. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”

Jack snickers. “Translation: she found out you’re barely legal and panicked.”

Luke’s eyes flick to his nightstand, where his wallet still sits open.

“…Wait. Is this about my age?" He sounds confused—adorably so. Too adorably.

You open your mouth, but Jack is already cackling.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack says, shaking his head. “She took one look at that ID and nearly had a full-blown existential crisis.”

Your face flushes deep red. Jesus, you really can’t stand that blue-eyed bastard.

Luke blinks, then sighs, clearly frustrated a little bit. “So, last night was… amazing, but now it’s a problem because I’m 21?”

You shift uneasily. “It’s not a problem, exactly. It’s just…”

Jack grins mischievously. “Hilarious?”

You glare at him, a mix of embarrassment and irritation burning through you. “Not the word I was going for.”

Luke tilts his head, watching you closely. “Did it feel weird last night?”

Your face instantly flames. “LUKE.”

Jack cackles. “Ohhh my God, this is so good.”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging for—”

You lunge at him, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jack, leaning in with barely contained joy, grins wider. “Oh, no, let’s hear it! This is the best! I live for this shit.”

You whip around, shooting daggers. “Do you really have to be here?”

Jack places a hand over his chest, feigning innocence. "Of course I do. I’m just the clueless bystander, watching your meltdown. It’s my duty as a brother. How else am I supposed to tease Lukey later?"

Luke licks his lips, glancing between you and Jack. “Wait… so you’re really freaking out over this?”

You sigh, your frustration starting to boil over. "I just… didn’t realize you were so young."

Jack snickers from the side, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, no, I think she’s just overthinking it. But hey, it’s cute.”

Luke shoots him a glare. “Jack.”

Jack raises his hands, completely unbothered. “I’m just here to state the obvious.”

You groan, feeling a headache start to form at the base of your skull. "Can I just… go? Please?" The words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re too tired to care.

Luke looks at you, his gaze softening with that same sleepy affection from last night. You almost hate how it makes your chest ache. "You really want to leave?"

You pause for a long moment, considering.

And truthfully?

No.

You don’t.

Last night wasn’t just a fling—it was Luke.

Luke, who had you laughing through dinner, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. He treated you like you were someone worth admiring, someone worth cherishing. And when he kissed you, it felt like the first rainstorm after a drought, washing away everything but the two of you.

And now he’s standing there, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going through your mind.

Jack, sensing the shift, leans back dramatically. “Ohhh, she’s thinking about it.”

You glare. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack smirks like a little kid in the candy shop. “Nope.”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, his puppy like eyes softening as he looks at you. "Alright," he mutters, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let me make you breakfast before you decide I’m too young to function."

Jack perks up from the couch. “Oh, hell yeah. Stay. Luke makes a mean omelet.”

Luke shoots Jack a teasing glare, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he half-smirks. "Why are you even involved in this?" he says, clearly annoyed but with a playful edge, like he can’t decide if he should laugh or strangle his brother.

Jack shrugs dramatically. “Because I live for chaos.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at Luke as you battle the urge to stay or run.

“…Fine. One omelet.”

Jack fist-pumps the air. “YES.”

Luke grins like he’s already won. “Good. Because I was going to make you stay anyway.”

—

You don’t know how you ended up here.

One second, you were committed to sneaking out like a thief in the night. The next?

You’re standing in Luke Hughes’ kitchen, watching him move around with annoying ease, pulling eggs and cheese out of the fridge like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island, grinning like the mischievous idiot he is.

“You look tense,” he observes, propping his chin in his hand and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regretting staying already?”

You shoot him a withering look. “I regret a lot of things. Letting you talk this morning is at the top of the list.”

Jack gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, being such a warm and welcoming host.”

You roll your eyes. “You ambushed me.”

Jack shrugs casually, sipping his coffee. “Semantics.”

Luke, bless him, doesn’t engage. He simply smirks to himself as he cracks an egg into a pan, clearly used to Jack’s shenanigans. “Jack, are you actually gonna eat, or are you just here to be annoying?”

“Oh, I ate already. I’m just here for the show.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You get some kind of thrill out of torturing me?”

He’s an asshole, but damn, he’s the kind of asshole that almost makes you laugh.

Jack flashes a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he's creating. "You're sharp. I like that. Smart women are way more fun to mess with." He leans back, arms crossed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as if he's already plotting his next move.

Luke huffs a laugh, the sound full of fond exasperation. He rolls his eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he nudges Jack with his shoulder. “Just ignore him. He thrives on being a menace,” he says, shaking his head, but you can tell he's not actually mad.

Jack grins even wider, clearly proud of himself. “Yep. It’s what I do best,” he says, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced some kind of grand achievement.

You rest your elbows on the table, watching as Luke flips an omelet with impressive skill. “Okay, I’ll bite—how did you get so good at this?”

“Gotta learn some life skills when you live with Jack. Otherwise, you starve." He shoots his brother a pointed look, one that’s half annoyance, half fondness.

Jack scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wronged. "That’s unfair. I provide entertainment." His voice is teasing, but there’s a clear twinkle in his eye.

Luke snorts, barely stifling a laugh. "Entertainment doesn’t make up for the fact that you once tried to microwave a frozen pizza."

Your head snaps up at that, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Jack groans, cheeks flushing with a rare hint of embarrassment. "It was one time, and the oven took too long!" he mutters defensively, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

Luke smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestures vaguely toward the stove. "You almost burned the apartment down," he points out, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "That’s an exaggeration," he says, clearly attempting to downplay the incident, but his voice betrays the tiniest hint of guilt.

Luke shoots you a sly look, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leans in, like he’s about to let you in on a secret. “The microwave was smoking,” he adds, his voice dropping low, the tone almost playful—like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "Oh my God."

Luke, clearly pleased with the chaos he’s caused, gestures at Jack with the spatula like he’s just won some kind of victory. "See? This is why I learned how to cook."

Jack grins wide, unbothered. "And I get to reap the benefits, so really, we both win," he says with a cheeky shrug, as if his utter lack of skill somehow balances out Luke’s culinary expertise.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I don’t know how you put up with him."

Luke smirks,"It’s a daily struggle," he says, voice deadpan, but the small curve of his lips gives away the amusement he’s trying to hide.

Jack grins, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, the betrayal. I’m crushed,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk gives him away.

Luke just rolls his eyes and slides the finished omelet onto a plate before setting it down in front of you.

You look down at it, genuinely impressed by how perfect it looks. Then, you glance back at Luke, a little taken aback. "Not gonna lie… this looks really good."

Luke’s grin widens, his eyes briefly locking with yours, the kind of connection that makes the moment feel charged. "Told you."

You pick up your fork, still a little skeptical, and take a bite. Holy hell.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "Oh my God. This is actually amazing."

Jack leans in, looking smug...again. "See? I wasn’t lying." He gives you a little wink, clearly basking in the moment like he’s somehow been proven right.

Luke smirks, pleased by the compliment. “I take my breakfast very seriously.”

“Clearly. This might be the best decision I’ve made today.” You shake your head, chewing.

Jack gasps dramatically. “Wow. So staying was a better decision than leaving?”

You pause, realizing what you just admitted.

Jack grins like he’s just scored a win, and for a second, you seriously consider wiping that smug look off his face.

Luke’s smile, however, is filled with pure happiness, as if this moment is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You sigh, stabbing your omelet. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Jack beams. “Absolutely not.”

Luke leans closer, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed. It’s not every day I get a pretty girl in my kitchen, making my morning way more interesting.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. His words hang in the air, electric.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘pretty,’ huh?” you tease, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart skips a beat.

Luke raises an eyebrow, a slow, confident smile curling on his lips. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” His gaze flickers down to your lips, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been keeping me on my toes since I woke up.”

Your cheeks warm, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your omelet. “Flattery won’t make me forget about you being 21.”

Luke’s grin widens, and he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe not. But I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Jack, completely oblivious to the flirtation unfolding right under his nose, leans back on the kitchen island with a self-satisfied grin. “God, I can’t believe I’m witnessing this. I thought I was supposed to be the one who charmed the ladies.”

Luke snorts, rolling his eyes at his brother but keeping his focus on you. “Jack’s the type to talk about it. I’m the type to show it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That was smooth. Really smooth.

You take another bite of your omelet, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “You sure you don’t just want me to stay for the food?”

Luke leans back, his gaze softening as he gently takes your left hand in his, his thumb slowly tracing circles over your knuckles. “I mean… if that’s your only reason for sticking around, I won’t complain,” he murmurs, a playful yet tender smile curving his lips. “But I like to think I’ve got more to offer than just my cooking skills.”

His words, along with the warmth in his eyes, wash over you like a wave, pulling you in deeper. You lock eyes with him, your breath catching as your pulse quickens. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it impossible to think straight.

Then Jack clears his throat loudly, and you break the spell, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s just caused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone so you can finish your breakfast in peace. No need to make me a third wheel.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He just shrugs, unfazed.

“Good idea. Go entertain yourself, Jack.”

Jack winks. “Don’t mind if I do.” He stands up and heads for the door, adding, “You two just make sure to keep it PG—some of us don’t need to see that much chemistry before our coffee kicks in.”

You watch as Jack exits, still grinning like the mischievous brat he is.

As the door clicks behind Jack, the quiet of the kitchen settles in, leaving just you and Luke alone, the lingering tension between you two impossible to ignore. Luke shifts, his hands still resting on your hands as he pulls you gently into his lap. Your heart beats a little faster at the sudden closeness, but you refuse to let the thrill of it distract you from the conversation you know needs to happen.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes—eyes that are soft but hold that familiar spark of mischief, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. He tilts his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he runs his thumb over your hand, tracing slow circles. The warmth of his touch makes your breath hitch, but you bite your lip, determined to have this talk.

“Luke,” you start, your voice softer than you intended, “We need to talk about last night. About... us.”

Luke's expression changes, the playful gleam fading into something more intense. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and his voice drops an octave. “I thought we were past talking. I thought we were just... enjoying each other.”

His words make your pulse quicken, but you hold firm. You need to address this.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady, though your chest betrays you with its nervous flutter. “I need to know where this is going, Luke. You’re 21, I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference. I’ve been through more in my life. I want a family soon. I want stability. Not... something fleeting.”

Luke’s gaze darkens, and his thumb continues its slow, soothing motion over your skin, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. The air feels thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of what you’ve just said hanging between you.

“You think I don’t want the same things?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge, not defensive—more... thoughtful. “I’m not some kid just looking for a fling. I’ve thought this through. I’m looking for something real. I’ve spent too much time in meaningless situations to want that anymore. I went to our date because I was looking for something serious. And my friend told me you’d be looking for the same thing.”

He lets your words settle, his eyes never leaving yours. “After spending the night talking with you, I felt like I wasn’t just talking to someone who’s interesting—I felt like I was talking to someone who gets it. Someone who’s looking for the same kind of connection. I’m not here for something that’ll fizzle out in a few weeks. I’m here because... I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond, but something stirs inside you. Something warm, something you didn’t expect. You can feel the truth of what he’s saying in your chest, and for the first time, you start to question the assumptions you’d made.

“Yeah, but you’re still figuring things out,” you say, your voice shaky now, a trace of worry creeping in. “You’re just starting out in life. Maybe you don’t want the same kind of commitment I do. I need someone who’s already ready to settle down.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slide up to your jaw, his touch firm but tender, like he’s grounding you to the moment. His gaze holds yours, no longer playful, but filled with something deeper. Something real.

“I’m ready for that,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. “I know what I want. And I want you. If you’re worried about my age, let me show you I’m more than just a number.”

His words are almost a whisper, but there’s a quiet confidence in them that sends a thrill through you. His lips are so close now, you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not asking for a lifetime yet, but I’m asking for the chance to prove myself. To prove that I’m capable of giving you the kind of future you want.”

You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. He’s not backing down, and the sincerity in his words leaves you no room to doubt him. But still, you can’t help but voice the doubts that swirl in your mind.

“I don’t want to get hurt, Luke,” you whisper, finally letting yourself admit the fear you’ve been pushing down. “I’ve been through enough heartache. And if you don’t want the same things I do, if you’re not ready for it... I don’t know if I can take that risk.”

Luke leans in just a little more, his lips brushing against your cheek before he pulls back slightly, his hands cradling your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze. “I’m ready for you. Ready for everything that comes with it,” he says, his voice resolute. “I wouldn’t be here, sitting with you like this, if I wasn’t.”

You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. What you see instead is determination—an unspoken promise that, for all his age, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.

The air between you two shifts, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt, but filled with something new. Something that makes your pulse race.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Then show me.”

At that, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and slow, filled with all the unspoken things you’ve both been dancing around. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your hands find their way to his curls, tugging him in as if you can’t get close enough. The world around you fades away—there’s only the feeling of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his body against yours, the shared certainty that whatever this is, it’s more than just physical.

When you finally pull away, both breathless, Luke grins, his forehead resting against yours.

Luke leans back a little bit, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint as he watches you, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know," he says casually, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I have to admit... I’ve never had a night quite like that. You really know how to use that beautiful mouth of yours."

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Luke shifts a little closer, his grin widening. "Well, I’ve had my fair share of nights, but... last night? You...You were next level. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to be that blown away."

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Really? Well, I kinda feel the same. I’ve never... finished two times in one night."

Luke’s eyes narrow in surprise. "What?! Baby, that wasn’t even that much. I think we can go for four or five next time." He winks, his tone playful, but there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You laugh, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Is that so? You really think you can keep up?"

Luke smirks, leaning in just a little closer, his voice low and confident. "Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. You just wait."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Maybe this whole 'young boyfriend' thing isn’t such a bad idea after all... Good stamina and all that."

Luke grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Told ya!" He leans in, planting a series of quick, soft kisses across your face and neck, each one sending a delightful shiver through your skin. You can't help but laugh at his actions, brushing your nose against his cheek as your giggles mix with his gentle kisses.

Just as you're starting to recover from his playful assault, a voice slices through the moment like an ice-cold splash of water.

"Can you drop the sex talk, guys?" Jack's voice rings out from the kitchen doorway, dripping with disgust but clearly amused by the whole situation. "I didn’t need to know this much about my little brother."

You freeze, eyes wide, before you turn to Luke, who looks utterly unfazed, that smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. It’s as if he’s just won some kind of prize, and he's wearing it like a badge of honor.

Embarrassment creeps up your neck, but before you can even process the awkwardness, you find yourself laughing. The tension dissolves in the shared amusement of the moment. Luke just shrugs casually, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Relax, Jack. It’s called maturity," you reply with a wink, and Luke chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Jack groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "You two are gross. And seriously, for the future, we need some rules. These walls are way too thin. I do not need to hear you two in action. Thank God I wasn’t home yesterday."

You let out a horrified gasp, hiding your face in Luke’s neck. "Jesus, Jack," you mumble, half laughing, half mortified.

Luke just keeps laughing, clearly entertained by the situation. "You heard nothing. Just a couple of adults figuring things out," he teases.

Jack mutters something under his breath before calling out with a playful, exaggerated gag. "God, I need to vomit. You two are so disgusting."

"Guess this means you're sticking around, huh?" Luke whispers against your mouth, his voice low and warm, sending another wave of heat through you.

You nod, content, leaning into him with a soft smile. "Guess so," you murmur, brushing your lips against his in return.

Jack, clearly fed up with the display, huffs dramatically and walks away with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are the worst."

As he exits, you look up at Luke, feeling that warmth in your chest—the comfort, the excitement, all mixed together. You can get used to mornings like this, even if it means dealing with Jack’s teasing. Or, you think with a smirk, maybe you’ll just strangle him in his sleep. Problem solved.

Luke catches the glint in your eye and chuckles, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Careful,” he says with a playful smirk, “I’d hate to lose my new favourite person just because you can’t handle my brother.”

You laugh, pulling him in for one last kiss.

#luke hughes x oc #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #nhl fanfic #nhl fic #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes

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squid-bunny-msi · 7 hours ago

Text

HOPELESS FROM THE LEFT RIGHTS IS A PRE-MSI SONG AND IT'S THE EARLIEST RECORD EVER BY JAMES EURINGER (1989)

BEAR WITH ME STAY TIL THE END I SWEAR THIS THEORY MAKES SENSE. I can't draw so I just be typing words🤣🤣😂😂

First off, this theory isn't mine, but from a reddit user in a 2021 post, Most I'm doing is bringing this up to you guys in a more ""condensed way"". (I finished and I realized I just made it longer fuck me)

We know Jimmy has a habit of saving songs for later releases, like with YRTA and IF. But I don’t think Hopeless is a track that was made 4 or 6 years ago for the album. I actually think it’s from about 20 years before Bad Choices Made Easy (2010), and it's an 89-90's song and here’s why

1-Jimmy's voice and singing style belong more to the PINK /Tight era than the HIL or even YRTA era

Jimmy's voice at 40 is deeper and more mature than when he was 20, along with a different singing style.

I'll leave a comparison of Eat Those Words (2013), Panty Shot (1997), Pussy all night (1998) and finally Hopeless (circa 1989).

1-40 yo Jimmy vs 20 yo Jimmy

2-Jimmy's high notes and falsettos in the 90s

3-Hopeless

2-Michael Andrew Pascal, pre-MSI friend of Jimmy could be in this song and is credited on The Left Rights:

In the screenshots of old copyrighted songs by James Euringer pre-1990, we can see he has the pseudonym of "JAMES NEMO", while also Steve and a Michael Pascal guy are also here.

James is credited for words, music, performance, arrangement

Steve is credited for music, performance, and arrangement

Pascal is also credited for arrangement and performance, meaning that Pascal was physically involved in the songs of these times (singing or dancing along with James and Steve).

(This also appears on Jimmy Urine's page on the MSI wikipedia, the songs are all around 1989 max. )

Now, listen to the beginning of Hopeless again. Do you recognize three different voices? It seems like Andrew starts with the 'Here we go, break it down' part James says 'No bass, no synth, just da beats' in a peppy voice and sings 'I met this girl and she was so fine,' and then Steve delivers the 'I've traveled far, I've met the girlies' part (?) or maybe it's the 'I love 'em and leave 'em! I shove 'em and heave 'em' line. (To be honest, I'm not really familiar with Steve's voice u_u).

On top of that, look who is credited in the Thank you section of Bad Choices made easy (scan by Cain @tghtr )

The original poster said that Andrew Pascal is credited here, but not in the rest of the thank you sections of MSI albums, I don't have MSI's whole discography to check their Thank you sections, but for people that do, I encourage to check this up yourselves!

3-They don't sound like they're in a studio:

You can clearly hear a reverb at the beginning of the song because it doesn’t seem like they’re in a studio, but rather in an empty room. It's not a reverb done digitally. This could be because it was just a casual recording, something you’d record on a cassette tape recorder. All 1989 recordings of Jimmy are put under the category of "sound cassette"

Considering this, there are high chances that Hopeless is the EARLIEST RECORD of Jimmy Urine singing, being 1989, even before Pink. Could also not be 1989 if Andrew was still around making beats with Jimmy but weren't copyrighted in the site, James Nemo is still registered in max 1993. But the songs where Andrew is included are max 1989.

Jimmy said multiple times that he re-uses old songs if they sound good to him. So this wouldn't be new, but still fascinating.

This is getting too long brother they dont pay me enough, like and reblog if u read allat and lmk what do u think 😱

#read allat and you have my heart #good theory yes or nah?#mindless self indulgence #msi #jimmy urine #little jimmy urine #james euringer #james euringer msi #msi band #random msi fact

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cherubcameron · 2 days ago

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Sofia x Rafe Head-canons

Warnings: 18+

From what I can vaguely remember about season 3, it seemed like Sofia stayed longer than just one day at Tanny Hill. So that means they probably slept together more than once. I feel like, Sofia had to teach Rafe how to fuck. Making him go slower than he wanted too. He was just pounding away at her. And she had to help him learn how to roll his hips. He realized quickly how easily he could get her to cum, if he did this. At first, she was the one on top. Until he finally learned what she liked and didn’t and then that’s when they began to have more fun with the positions they did.

Sofia, as sweet as she looks, does not take his shit. I got this from the way she said she’ll scratch the eyes out of anyone who talked bad about him. And the way she kind of bossed him around at the beach. I feel like in the moment, when he was talking about Pogues. She let it slide then. But if he continued talking like that. She would have told him off.

Sofia can tell Rafe isn’t an experienced lover. Contrary to popular belief, I think he tends to get shy with her. Not used to showing so much affection. I feel like this is towards the beginning of their relationship. When he just stares at her, his cheeks turn pink. And she giggles, making his cheek turn more red than pink.

I can also imagine one day, he comes home with flowers. And he kind of shoves it in her face. Face pink as hell. Going “this is for you.” And she laughs because of the way he went about it. His hands are in his pockets. She slowly gets him to loosen up so she can kiss him. And he just turns red as fuck.

Sofia doesn’t know much about Rafes past. I fear, he keeps her in the dark. As we know, since he told her he’s done way worse. And how she doesn’t know. But he wishes he could tell her. I feel like that’s the one thing that really doesn’t allow them to get too close. Since she’s not sure why he’s always running off with Barry. I do think, she’s the reason why Rafe slowly separates himself from Barry. But honestly, this thought is less developed then the rest.

I don’t think Rafe knows much about Sofias friends. There’s kind of a language barrier for some of them. A few of her friends mainly speak Spanish. So he tries but he feels like they don’t understand him.

Rafe learns some Spanish so he can talk to Sofia in her native tongue. He’s terrible at it at first, of course. But slowly, he learns it rather quickly.

This is all I can come up with at the moment! But hope you liked them

#rafe x sofia #sofia x rafe #outer banks sofia #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe x sofia headcanons #outer banks #obx #sofia obx

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euphoria-looney · 2 hours ago

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I do am curious on Palmola relationship with Princess! MC? Like she seems to be like an extremely strict mom, and doesn't show affection to MC as much. And is Palmola MC's bio mom? Like she is such asshole to her, but MC is presumably the oldest princess and has the burden to be married off, cuz of alliance and shit.

Also, I wanted this dance to happen between Princess MC and one of her friends, https://youtube.com/shorts/er1AdqCZNHE?si=Fe4D-luRQp59cDYF , just for the funny. Like, the amount of scandal, and someone thinking they connect the dots on why MC ended the engagement.

Palmola's relationship with princess!reader is very toxic and strict. When she found out that she had no talent, no magic, and really struggled with etiquette as well at the beginning, she can't help but hate her on a whole different level

As a young girl, Pamola has been trained in talent, magic, all this stuff just to get engaged to Bruce, and that has been her greatest achievement out of everything she did her whole life, not her talent, not her magic so she wanted a child that she could be proud of because every other kid had a closer connection to Bruce so when her [name] always approached her instead of Bruce, she was mad that the kid that she was stuck with admire her was the most "useless" out of all of them.

Of course, she’s had her moments that she does dote on [name] which is why the relationship is so toxic because [name] can’t help but always come back to her as she is her mom, and even when she abuses her with verbally, she just thinks about the moment whenever they did have a bonding moment and thinks to herself "that’s my mother and I love her and she is everything I wanna be in so much more."

And that is why her expectations of her were so high and once they’re so high, it is like a rock smashed into you when they are crushed, but it’s not even [name]'s fault, but she can’t comprehend that as she has strived to be everything more and it all just a hindrance to her.

She likes Serena because even if she doesn't have etiquette they can talk about similar things they enjoy and she has talent and light magic which are spoilers.

Despite what I wrote [name] is not the oldest princess she’s the youngest princess and it just fits more into Connor and Serena‘s age range (kind of) she doesn’t have to be married for an alliance, but she fell in love with Connor and everybody in the family knew that with how much she showed it and couldn’t hide it.

So whenever they had the opportunity to marry someone in the Kent family presumably Connor because he was older they didn’t wanna hand it over to Serena because they loved her. So, they chose [name] because they knew how much she liked him.

Which obviously did not go her way.

I really like the dancing scene, it will be added. It has to be. It will be like the scandal of the era because [name] was absolutely a down bad dog for Connor and so when she gave up that position so easily, and for money, many people found as suspicious for a good reason.

Now, dancing with this new person, just brings so many alarms and so much gossip to bloom

And like my last ones do tell me if there's mistakes or anything you didn't understand.

#platonic batfam #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #batfam x neglected reader #batfam

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dr9com9ge-ix · 23 hours ago

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What If Sunshine Suburbia! Black acted more like Sprunki Mortality! Black?

HI ANON- I don’t know if you know how much Sunshine Suburbia would be affected by Black/Tenebrae not being a complete monster!!! So I hope you’re ready for the entire insane rambling my friends had to hear in a VC after I woke up to this ask!-

(Also for anyone here who somehow doesn’t know/ hasn’t read Sprunki Mortality go GO MY SCARAB, WITNESS IT. It’s great and I love it, Savior does a great job with the art and writing! ^^ and it’d probably help contextualize some of the changes to this particular scenario.)

So- I’m taking this as “He’s more of a tired old man, A bit exasperated by people. But overall kind of a normal reasonable dude.” So this scenario’s Tenebrae is basically!!! A god who is tired of being god and thus is in retirement, ascending the Sun and Moon to be his willing replacements (This happens when the two are adults so they aren’t condemned to being 12 year olds forever- Though that means they outlive their families. Their relationship with Black is akin to master to protégé/ Co-workers.) He’s mostly just minding his own business, There isn’t much of a stigma to knowing his name but he prefers to be left alone. He mostly just messes with his god powers to either have a small harmless kick (Making a stupid looking animal) or fixing small things that bother him and travels about Cacophony (Hitchhiking in people’s shadows)

At some point he ends up in the Spire monastery to check on the cult there because the Sun asked him to and basically found Jevin and his sisters who aren’t treated that well on the account of the sun worship and rituals being prioritized over their well being. (Also a note that in both in this scenario and in the original au that Black meets Jevin when he is around 17/18, with Ceruna the youngest sibling being 15 and Belilah being 20.)

So basically Black went “What the FUCK? Okay no- My kids now and also I’m telling the Sun you’re all out of your damn minds!” and took the siblings with him to go snitch on the cult to The Sun. The cult is disbanded because The Sun told them to knock it off rather than Black massacring people in there.

Now Black is a father of 3 whole kids and The Sun lets them live in the Sunshine Suburbs when it was made (It was made for similar reasons as the baseline au) and at some point in time Jevin finds Sky and adopts him (Also Jev and Sky are both really into biology with Jevin actually becoming a professor.), Ceruna gets married to her girlfriend, And Beliah becomes a Lighthouse keeper— And like… Sky is so much more carefree and gets to be a kid rather than feeling the need to protect his dad / Having severe trust issues.

They’re pretty much a normal family (As normal as they can be-) for like the 40 years Black has spent with them! Maybe at most they all have a bit of a bad habit of swearing like sailors (The mental image of Jevin going “Ah bitchnuggets” in the softest voice as he accidentally drops something.)

I don’t even think horror mode / The eclipse happens in this because he’s literally just a dude! (Unless some outside force comes with a hammer to his family but like really its all just chill I think.)

There’s also alot of other things that get effected by Black being just a chill dude that I haven’t brought up- But I think thats most of the significant changes!

#artists on tumblr #digital art #sprunki #sunshine suburbia au #sprunki jevin #sprunki sky #sprunki black #sprunki oc #Beliah #Ceruna #((Oh yeah also Jevin isn’t bald here because he had people help him to not pluck his feathers #((I also hope I'm not too far off on my read on Mortality! Black's personality u u;#ask #alternate scenario

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notapradagurl7 · 3 days ago

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Stuck.

Black Fem! Reader x Thor

Summary: Due to a monster on almost k*lling you at work, Thor saved you and you ended up stuck on Asgard with him. You were just a mere mortal trying to find a way back to Earth but you had to adjust to Thor’s world first.

word count: 2,761k

Taglist: @mermaidchansons @megamindsecretlair @ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @uzumaki-rebellion @wakandas-vibranium @mama-2001 @hearteyes-for-killmonger @emmawatsoff @episodes-ff @sweettea-and-honeybutter @siqueth @simplyzeeka @earthchica @kumkaniudaku @blowmymbackout @rawflwrs @ghostfacekill-monger @ovohanna24 @kaylaahisthebestest- @blackmissfrizzle @beenathembo @yassbishimvintage @henneseyhoe

A/N: I was deeply anxious about writing this because it has been quite some time since I last watched the Marvel movies. However, as a fan, I am determined to step out of my comfort zone with my writing. This fic is quite self-indulgent.😭

Thank you to soft-p for giving me with encouragement. Your words were like a reassuring pat on the back and a wake-up call.

P.S. Don't forget to reblog, like and comment to support your favorite writers. Enjoy! ❤️

Warnings: angst, friends-to-lovers trope, violence, reader almost gets k*lld by a monster, a worried reader, oral(fem receiving) praise, dirty talk, Thor being a big softie, doesn’t follow the canon of the movies, love confession, straight up filth.

———————

It was a regular Monday afternoon at your job as a barista in a black-owned coffee shop, the smell of coffee beans and cinnamon buns wafted through the air. You've grown tired of the smell, it was like a bug you couldn't shake off.

You weren't a fan of coffee as others were, you prefer bottled water, apple juice, hell even orange juice. Others might want orange juice over apple.

Your chocolate brown collared tee shirt had an aromatic smell of spilled coffee double espresso and cream, your khakis pooled around your thick legs. Your cap on your head, Not to mention the coffee stains on your shoes, You neatly tied your freshly done box braids in a ponytail. Your brown skin.

You greeted customers with a fake smile and the regular ‘Have a nice day’ saying to them as they left money in the tip jar, drinking coffee on their way out, the chime of the bell rang in your ears.

Another day, another dollar you said in the back of your mind.

To be honest, you have grown tired of the same routine of your normal everyday life.

Wake up, go to work, head home, go to sleep repeat. Maybe you needed some spice or excitement in your life, maybe you were overthinking things.

The television in the upper right corner of the spacious room played the news showing a clip of Thor defeating a purple monster that resembled a demon, you wondered if the beast escaped from Hades to take Thor with him.

You and Thor crossed paths at the park, engaging in chats about your interests and personal experiences. Both of you spent quality time together, frequenting diners, the park, and even your own home. As your friendship began to develop, it grew steadily and became quite strong.

You thought his life seemed cooler than yours, except for his father, Odin, praised him more highly than his brother Loki, the mischievous god. The conflict between the two brothers seemed intense. Thor and Loki lost both of their parents but as time passed they were able to get along.

You empathized with his brother as he sought validation from his parents and tried to make them happy, as it reminded you of your own past.

You were certain that Loki wouldn't want any empathy or pity from a mere mortal like you, he was somewhere in his realm thinking of world domination.

While his mother seemed to be a gentle woman, his sister Hela came dangerously close to taking out his eye during the fight. That must have hurt. Like really bad.

Sheesh, what a family he had.

You grinned and sang softly to Thor, amazed by his unwavering bravery and extraordinary combat skills. Wow, he was also incredibly attractive with a stylish haircut.

You wondered if Thor would take your application or resume for a assistant? You used to dream of being a superhero when you were a kid, having superpowers and saving the day.

Did superheroes ever pay back for the damages to cars and buildings, personal items when in every battle?

Kenya tapped your shoulder while you clocked out of your morning shift, your head turned toward her with concern, "Are you okay?"

You nodded at her, “Yeah, i’m fine, just a little tired.” you said softly, taking off your apron.

Once you walked out of the coffee shop and dusted yourself off, you looked both ways of the street before a tentacle quickly slithered around your waist, your eyes widened in shock as you were randomly pulled toward the demon, its red crimson eyes bore into your soul as its tentacle gradually moved you up and down in its tight clutch.

Thor’s narrowed at the towering purple demon holding you hostage, its tentacle brought you close to its face. “L-let me go…” you whispered, you flinched and the quiet sniffling from you broke Thor’s heart.

“Unhand her! I shall send you back to Hades where you belong and where you will stay for eternity!” Thor roared, holding his axe close, lighting bouncing off of him.

“Isn't this the feeble mortal you yearn for? Your heart desires for a connection? Aren't mere mortals and gods told to stay in their place? Such a radiant soul belongs in Hades..”The demon taunted, its deep voice sending shivers down your spine.

“You only spew lies from your wretched tongue, prepare to perish like the others..” Thor spat, swinging his axe in his hand.

You clenched your fists, trying to muster up the courage to fight back, but you were no match for the monster's strength.

What did the demon mean by that? He yearns for?

Thor threw his axe at the repulsive creature, and the axe severed the demon's arms, making it stagger backward as its arms were released. Bringing you to great heights in the air, Thor cautiously crouched down and soared towards you.

Thor finished off the beast with every punch, its desperate cries begged for mercy. Thor’s thunder zapped the demon and sent him back to Hades.

Your eyes closed shut with your arms frantically moving around your body, plummeting to your death. The wind gushing against your face with your tears falling from your eyelids. The bustling wind and light blue sky witnessing

Was this how you said goodbye to your friends, your family, your life? It couldn't be.

You suddenly stop falling when you are caught in the bridal style by Thor, your hands resting on his chiseled forearms.

The ground seemed miles away, but you felt oddly calm knowing that Thor was there to protect you. His blue eyes met yours with concern and relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Your box braids pooled in front of your face with your eyes fixed on Thor, “Are you alright Y/N?”he asked gently, his finger gently moving the braid from your face.

“Uh…Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you Thor for saving me..” You said softly, nodding at him while giving him a small smile.

"No harm shall come to you as long as I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you." He reassured, his words tugged at your heartstrings.

Didn't your whole life flash before your eyes?

You hopped from the heroic arms of Thor and waved goodbye to him, your eyes almost welled up in tears as you sniffed them away.

Thor lifted his axe up to the blue sky and thunder came down on the two of you, it didn't shock you or hurt you. But it was tingling over you, teleporting you to another world. It was strange.

Your eyes opened wide to the birds chirping and the towering building painted in soothing macaroon cream color with gold designs engraved in them, from the towering mountains of greenery to the people dressed in white loose robes.

Oh shit, were you really in Asgard? The New Asgard right?

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but before you could respond, a towering man was behind Thor. It was Heimdall, the guardian of the Bifröst.

"Thor, we are thankful to have you back to Asgard," Heimdall said softly, his voice echoing through the air.

Heimdall’s fiery eyes locked with your deep brown ones, his grey locs pulled back in a low ponytail and his dark brown skin caught your attention. He was so handsome.

“Oh? You brought a mortal to Asgard your Highness?” He asked him, titling his head to the side.

“She is my friend and I accidentally brought her here..”

Heimdall nodded, “Well, surely it wasn't a mistake. It must want her here for a reason..”

Your eyes gazed upon the gods and goddesses roaming through the roads, the women were as tall as the Amazons in Themyscira, with their gold brass armor and white flowy togas. It was different here.

You bet that the women in his home would throw themselves, he was a god after all. Did Zeus’s women who sat by his throne faint at the sight of Thor?

“Thor, can I get extra clothes and take a shower?” You asked him, pursuing your lips.

“Oh! Um..i could ask Majesty for some extra clothes and I can shower where the shower is in my castle.” Thor mentioned, nodding with a nervous chuckle.

Majesty teleported to your location in the elegant castle, giving you a warm smile and greeting Thor. “Greeting Thor..” she said softly.

A goddess by the name of Majesty with her dark brown skin, her brown locs pulled back by a purple headscarf, swaying side by side, her loose toga hugged around her thick body. Her amethyst-purple eyes bore into your soul, reading you like a book.

She was so beautiful, you've never seen a goddess that looked like you in the paintings by old white dudes from years and years ago, in the books, and in the movies. It felt nice to see it up close.

“Hello there Y/N, here are some clothes for you." Majesty spoke kindly, taking the clothes from behind her back.

She handed you a small bundle of clothes, her voice soothing and comforting. "Feel free to freshen up and make yourself at home."

You thanked her gratefully, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. As you make your way towards the shower, you feel a mix of emotions. On the other hand, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being completely out of your element.

After a quick shower, you changed into the clothes that Majesty had provided. The purple loose robe was comfortable and stylish, fitting around you perfectly. As you walked back into the main room, you found Thor waiting for you with a warm smile.

"You look beautiful," he complimented, his eyes sparkling with admiration. "The clothes suit you well."

Your cheeks grew hot at his words with a flutter of excitement in your chest. Being stuck on Asgard might not be so bad after all, especially if it meant spending more time with Thor.

"So, what now?" you asked, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice. "How do I get back to Earth?"

Thor's smile faltered slightly as he scratched the back of his head. "Well, that's the thing... I'm not entirely sure. The Bifröst is not under my control, and it seems to have brought you here for a reason."

You groaned inwardly, feeling a mix of frustration and anxiety wash over you. "Great, so I'm stuck here with no way back?"

Thor's expression softened as he reached out to hold your hand. "I promise you, Y/N, I will do everything in my power to help you find a way back home."

His words brought a small smile to your face, and you couldn't help but feel comfort in his presence.

“I know you will, I trust you..”

The night arrived rather quickly in Asgard with the moonlight slanting through the huge window, your eyelids gradually opened to the spacious room. You couldn't sleep, great. The silence was rather annoying than peaceful.

Was Thor still up? You stood up from your side of the bed and strode out of the bedroom, you maneuvered your way through the wide hallways and stopped in front of his towering door in brown wood with intricate cravings, you rapped your knuckles against it.

“Come in..”

You gently nudged the door open with your head leaning in the room, “Thor? Are you still awake?”

You stepped inside the spacious room and looked for him, pondering if this was a good idea.

“Yes, I am. Don't worry..”

Thor stood before the balcony with his eyes fixed on the full moon and the ink-black sky painted with sparkly stars, his arms resting on the railing. It was centuries since he had been home, he missed his mother, his father, and his brother.

Thor felt alone but when he met you, he didn't feel so alone anymore. But it felt like anytime something happened he would lose everyone. He didn't want to lose you either.

“You're my friend Thor, I get that you're a god of thunder but I'm still gonna worry about you..” You said softly, walking toward him with a light chuckle.

Thor turned his attention toward you with his hands resting on your shoulders, “I worry about you more than you ever know…”

“I appreciate that but I can take care of myself..”

“I didn't intend to put you in danger.”

“Don't blame yourself for what occurred, things like that happen a lot when you're fighting crime or demons right?” You added, smiling a bit.

Thor lightly chuckled with a smile, he wondered how you were calm through it. You were almost hurt by a monster but you didn't die. You were stuck on Asgard for a while but you were with Thor.

There was always a silver lining to something your aunt would say, you couldn't wallow in self-pity so keep living for yourself.

“I have fallen in love with you..” Thor confessed, his eyes locked with yours.

Maybe the demon was right about one thing, his feelings for you. Those feelings were real.

Your eyes widen a bit, you can't believe what you are hearing, “I feel the same way about you too..” you admitted, your hands resting on his chest.

You always felt this way about him but you wanted to wait until the time was right to tell him.

Thor crashed his lips into yours with you reciprocating the same action, his hands moved toward your thighs as he picked you up by your thighs, your legs wrapping around his waist, your steamy make-out resumed, your moans muffled on his lips.

He laid you down on your back on the plush bed, he took off his clothes and kissed your plump lips again.

Thor flipped you on your back with his hands gently tucking your robes from your body, the wind brushed against your skin causing your nipple to go erect, his large hands squeezed your breasts, “oh..Thor..” you moaned softly.

His thick fingers gently slid between your wet folds and you gasped softly, your hips against his face movement, “Oh yes! Thor!” you screamed again, your head falling back on the pillow, your essence oozing on his tongue.

His tongue licked a wet stripe between your folds with his mouth latching around your throbbing clit, your hands gripped his blond hair tight. Waves of pleasure washed over you, his hooded eyes locked with yours.

Was this a way of worshiping Thor? Blessing him with your presence as he lapped your essence, Thor's hands roamed your body, biting and kissing every curve and crevice, as his lips trailed down your neck, littering your dark brown skin with hickeys, “You taste so good..” he groaned, kissing your lips again.

Your climax rippled through you like a tidal wave, your essence oozing into his mouth, you screamed out loudly as your legs shook in his hands, “oh fuck!” you screamed, you panted lowly.

The two of you lay side by side with your eyes locked on him, you stood up from your side of the bed gathering your clothes.

“You're mine now..” You told him, pecking his lips as you headed off toward the shower.

This day was more than perfect, maybe your life wasn't so dull after all. You were dating a god that loved you and only you.

—————

#black!reader #black fanfiction #black writer #notapradagurl7 #marverl fic #thor x black reader #thor odinson #black!fem!reader #black!oc

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