#i hope my reply makes sense kinda?
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hotluncheddie · 1 year ago
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I absolutely love your chubby!Steve series!
I think partly because it challenges the fckng fatphobia my family has raised me with, acting like anyone who doesn't "fit" into their clothes anymore is fat and that's bad. Which *i* think is fckng stupid. I'm personally more at ease with my body. While being skinny (always was) ... ever since puberty or hitting my 20s I'm not a stick figure. I have some curves and while that's really nice if you feel comfortable in a woman's body - i've been struggling with gender and my little tummy fat, my thighs, my ass and always felt too feminine. I know I have a nice body (I feel strange about saying that) but in my eyes it's a lot of femme sexy not masc sexy. If it makes sense. But to get to the point 😂 I think your series has helped me too with reevaluating my depiction of whats masc and what's femme. And also how curves on men are hot and good and beautiful.
I'm obviouely not 100% there and probably won't ever be. But it helped a tiny bit! So pleaaaaaase never stop!! It's so good!
I really hope this all makes sense
(at first I wanted to make this anon but I'm gonna be brave about it! And yes it would be okay posting this publicly. But you can also answer if you want, privately)
hello friend!! ty for being brave and sending this! im so so so glad you’re enjoying them!!!
sorry i’m only just answering this too i kept thinking about what i wanted to say bc i never expected these stories to cause these kinds of thoughts. but it’s so cool!!
there is something so interesting about the way androgyny is so connected to thinness. and curves with femininity. like i saw an insta reel and this girl was doing butch outfit inso but she was a bigger, curvy woman and it kinda blew my mind like id never seen it before! they looked great!!
like masculinity and femininity is performance but i totally get the frustration of like having to counteract your ‘base’ in order to perform the way you feel most comfortable. if that makes sense. like i so often want a t-shirt to fit me like it would a skinny skater boy but i also think i look pretty hot naked haha and i know that’s me with my traditionally ‘feminine’ body shape. so i feel like i get what ur saying? sorry if i’m way off
but yeah i’m also sorry you’ve been struggling with your gender i hope it hasn’t been too dysphoric for you!
its just really interesting that you’ve sent me this tho. when thinking about like, how everyone interprets art differently. like, i honestly just started writing them bc i find bigger people really attractive. i wasn’t really trying to say anything about fat phobia but i totally see how it’s all connected. like i just think bellies are hot and i find peoples chests hot, like, boobs or pecs, whatever, its just a really nice, beautiful area. so i kinda wanted to just get that attraction out in writing because im trying to be less embarrassed about what turns me on. maybe that's why i write eddie so goofy, thats me still being a little embarrassed but also just maybe makes it all more accessible to people. idk.
but yeah i guess it’s just nice to talk about different body types, especially with such a traditional american male character like steve. i’ve just never found like a six pack very attractive, personally. i find strength and curves and softness and bigness really nice so idk i hope i’m giving a little more representation to that.
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alectoperdita · 1 year ago
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18 for the put that guy in a situation asks??
From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game
18. Possession/Mind control
content warning: implied non-con at the end
Read on AO3
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Jounouchi was quiet. Eerily so.
The only time Kaiba had seen the deadbeat shut his trap for this long, it was when his breathing stopped after Ra struck him. But Jounouchi remained upright, rigid as stone, his eyes wide open but distant and glazed.
The expression reminded Kaiba of another incident, the one at the docks involving chains, bombs, a hostage with a cyanide pill clenched between her teeth, and supposed mind control.
Kaiba shifted, once again becoming aware of the heavy weight within his white-knuckled grip. The Millennium Rod—that was what Yugi called it. It was the very same trinket Malik had waved around throughout the Battle City finals.
All Kaiba knew was it was an eyesore, just like the gaudy piece his rival perpetually wore around his neck. Kaiba wanted nothing to do with it. He would've been content to continue to ignore its existence if it didn't keep turning up among his belongings like a bad penny.
He was anything but amused to open his office drawer and find it sitting inside. He returned it the same evening, threatening Yugi over the unfunny prank. The second time it turned up inside his briefcase, he walked out five minutes before his next meeting, went down to the Turtle Game Store, and basically chucked the Rod at Yugi's head. And the third time, after appearing on his bedside table after an uneasy night of tossing and turning, Kaiba was ready to commit murder.
Yugi claimed no responsibility for one second, before switching gears and babbling some nonsense about destiny and past lives. And whatever Kaiba might think of Yugi's delusions, he never took his rival for a liar. So Kaiba held onto it, reluctantly, and shoved it deep into a desk drawer to bury it.
At least it stopped actively haunting him afterward.
But his troubles didn't end there. No. More turned up in his office one early morning, as the sun barely peeked over the horizon to herald a new day. Kaiba had been driven from his bed by vague and amorphous dreams he couldn't put a name to, only to discover an intruder rummaging through his things.
"What are you doing here?" growled Kaiba, slamming the door behind him.
Swearing, Jounouchi jumped, swearing as he spun to face him. Of course, he was a shitty thief on top of being a third-rate duelist. Nor should it surprise Kaiba when he bared his teeth without a hint of shame and snarled, "Helping Yugi get back what's his!"
After issuing the bold declaration, he yanked his hand out of Kaiba's drawer and hefted the Millennium Rod into the air.
"You think I want that miserable trinket?" hissed Kaiba. His head pulsed. From a migraine. From sleep deprivation. From a gradually building rage. "I was this close to stapling it to his forehead so it can't leave him like his stupid Puzzle."
Jounouchi's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. Yugi might believe you, but I know better. You stole it!"
Stole—as if Kaiba ever needed to stoop so low. Kaiba wanted nothing more than to be rid of the nuisance—both the Rod and Jounouchi. But he'd be damned if he overlooked Jounouchi's trespassing.
"That's rich. Considering you're the one caught stealing red-handed. I'm calling the police. We'll see who they believe."
He crossed the room in a few long strides. He reached directly for the phone on his desk.
"Stop!" exclaimed Jounouchi.
Perhaps the fear of law enforcement sent him into a blind panic, because he took a swing at Kaiba with the Rod.
Kaiba caught it with his hand. The sharp blades protruding from the specter's head dug into his palm, threatening to break skin. Did Jounouchi know about the blade hidden within the shaft? Was that what he'd try next?
Pain bloomed in his head and radiated down the arm holding the rounded end of the Rod.
"Let go!" he roared.
The deadbeat dropped it like it was hot coal. "What the hell?"
Kaiba felt it too. Underneath the pain, an electric sensation zipped through him, scorching his nerve endings. It was neither pain nor pleasure.
"Shit, did you do that?" asked Jounouchi. "Can you use—"
"Shut up," ordered Kaiba.
Miraculously, Jounouchi did. His mouth immediately snapped shut with an audible click. He opened his mouth to try again.
Kaiba denied him. "Not another word out of you."
Jounouchi choked while his throat convulsed, trying to spit words without success. His eyes darted wildly, terror growing in their amber depths as they frantically searched Kaiba's face.
Jounouchi didn't fear him. He despised Kaiba. He insulted him. On nauseating occasions, Jounouchi even pitied him. But he had never been afraid of Kaiba.
Until now.
A heady rush shot straight to Kaiba's hind-brain. Suddenly, he understood why people took drugs. He rearranged his grip on the Rod and tapped Jounouchi's clavicles with a sharp wing.
"Here, I thought nothing'd ever stop your yapping," he laughed. "This just proves what you need is a shock collar."
Rage blanketed Jounouchi's face. Since he could no longer express it verbally, he resorted to other means. Somehow, Kaiba already knew his intentions before he moved a single muscle. And he put an end to it as swiftly with a single command.
"Stop."
Stop moving. Stop fighting. Stop defying Kaiba.
Jounouchi froze. His defiance drained like blood from a slaughtered cow. His expression slackened, his eyebrows and mouth unfurling. As if a light snuffed out, his eyes went as blank as his face.
Captivated, Kaiba had stared at him ever since. At first, he wondered if this was part of an extended prank. To trick him into believing the Rod's power and how he could wield it. But as the minutes ticked on, Jounouchi stayed rooted to his spot without an errant twitch of his muscles, breathing slowly but steadily as if in a trance.
Kaiba was so clear-headed. His headache had receded. What remained behind was a deep-rooted instinct, the knowledge to bend Jounouchi's will to his whim.
Speaking out loud wasn't necessary. But it gave him a rush to issue the command verbally. "Down."
Gracelessly, Jounouchi dropped to his knees. A pulse of something other than power rushed through Kaiba's veins.
"Look at me," he said as his breath grew ragged.
Jounouchi obediently tilted his face up. He held it at the perfect angle so the sun's rays, streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, highlighted his bleached locks, brown eyes, and full lips.
He was quiet, and the storm raging inside Kaiba's head for the recent weeks dissipated too.
Without releasing the Rod, Kaiba cupped Jounouchi's jaw, feeling the faint scruff of a hasty shave job. Jounouchi didn't fight him or try to throw off his touch. But he didn't lean into it either. Right now, he was no different from a doll, and dolls didn't react. They didn't want. They were merely expected to sit there and be pretty.
Kaiba pressed his thumb to the corner of Jounouchi's mouth, squeezing until it parted. Jounouchi's wet tongue grazed against his finger pad, warm but still.
He wanted him to suck. This time, Kaiba didn't have to speak aloud before he felt the answering wet suction. Jounouchi's lips closed tightly around his thumb, his cheeks hollowing as he obeyed.
Docile was an unexpectedly good look on Jounouchi. If nothing else, it was a rarity few people saw.
Before he knew it, his hand settled over his fly. His groin throbbed each time Jounouchi sucked. The rhythm was as regular and robotic as a toy, no stuttering and no mistakes.
Perfect.
Kaiba could have this and more—a secret desire not even he wanted to admit to himself. The forbidden fruit had fallen right at his feet. His sins were innumerable. His ledger ran red. So what was one more?
"Open."
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wreckedhoney · 2 months ago
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"WONDERFUL SHOW TONIGHT, FORREST."
a KILLER FREQUENCY Marie Campbell/Forrest Nash ship playlist on YT
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"Good to talk to you again, Forrest. You know, I've really enjoyed our chats tonight." "I guess we've had some moments."
Tracklist under the cut
Is Everybody Going Crazy? - Nothing But Thieves / The Perfect Girl - Mareux / We Don't Have To Dance - Andy Black / Night Issues (Nightcall x Daddy Issues) Mashup/Remix - FuturePastPerson / "Bassically" - Tei Shi / Cold Summer - Mareux / Diet Mountain Dew - Lana Del Rey / Destruction Of Us - Mr.Kitty / Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer / HUSH - Ari Abdul / DTLA - Mareux / Make You Mine - Madison Beer / FEAR YOU - Kat Von D / Bad Romance - Lady Gaga / Dark All Day - GUNSHIP / Maniac (feat. Conor Mason of Nothing But Thieves) - AWOLNATION
#killer frequency#marie campbell#forrest nash#slashers#video games#marie/forrest (killer frequency)#forrest/marie (killer frequency)#together their first names make the initials for motherfucker :) <3 and i think that's beautiful#playlist#fanmix#“you really plugged mareux 3 times in one playlist huh” Listen. if we're on the assumption that marie is kind of half goth#also this color scheme of their character colors w/ the loading bar u see at the start&end of the game isn't perfect but…it's beautiful ha#gosh im sorry im aware this will be more pleasant listening if u have an adblocker. i hope u do……#p.s. hosted in my sidepiece/bootycall channel. this isnt really what i use/sub from on the daily so u wont get much interaction if any#with all that out the way Pls if u listen let me know what your vibe of this ship is post-whistling night (or in general??) + this playlist#for me forrest was never a target of hate but more someone who Really got in the way to the point of getting on the hitlist#if we keep to the “sense of justice” marie got from him +other strong traits then diff scenarios open up where she considers sparing him#and from there i kinda picture the dynamic At First as Feral beast with Shiny new chew toy (who confirmed Can Flirt Back) but then develops#forrest is bitter/dark/temperamental & sentimental enough to meet her perspectives part way#it all grows into a turbulent friendship that goes into a turbulent romance. and Perhaps peace?? s/o to anyone who's into this lol#excuse the non-fanfic happening in these tags but also imagining them bonding from bad parents lmao but from two diff perspectives#where marie would stab hers and probly forrests once theyre friends if he was hurt by 'em#but i like imagining forrest on more of a “they sucked but it was a different time & they didnt know better”#with someone specifically like marie replying No fuck them severely#“Oh what? Youre gonna get revenge for me? :) By killing their kid who is me? :)” / “FINE Forrest I just might”#and both of them possibly being musically inclined but lol for diff reasons went on another path. they can Play oh boyo this ship's a treat
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rubiesintherough · 4 months ago
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#(( ooc. ))#.... so#if youre wondering why ive been so absent lately. ots bc im dealing with stuff like that. on top of handling everytuing around the house#and additional super stressful family drama#health scares caused by stress#the works. i feel like im a constant state of mindfuckery and i have been since we moved#thoght things would improve after getting away from MIL but apparently not#ive been so exhausted and stressed and pain has bee. spiking so bad#im really trying to be here bc writing has always been a calming thing for me like a fun distracting hobby#to get my mind off irl things but everytime i open up a reply i start crying#bc the words arent there and im too tired to even tupe bc im running myself ragged#and on top of that im dealing with hubby and whatever the f is up with him and the weird#180s he does where 1 second hes the sweetest most attentive guy ive ever known and the 2nd#im crying and apologizing for doing sometjing weong and i dont even inderstand what i did but hes upset at me#and somethings suddenly my fault#or im begging him for help around the apartment or smth#idk. i am really trying to be here i swear i am. i miss you all. i miss the stories we're writing together#i miss by bbys and wanna weite with them bc theyve been loud and active but i iust cant type what i want to#a single paragraph is taking me hours to get out no joke#idk. sprry for dumping all this on the dash out of nowhere im just kinda flailing right now and offkilter#gonna head off to bed and see if an actual good nights sleep for the first time in a week helps with my brain and makes things make sense#hope you all have a goodnight. sorry again for this#negative tw#negativity tw#venting tw#personal tw
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j00stkl31n · 5 months ago
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Explain better the sideblog thing!
You click your username and it’ll pop up the option to make a new blog! From that account you can come follow this blog and message me and tell me you’re one of my anons! You can’t sent like messages over the ask box in a new account like you can anon but you can personally message me with the tumblr messaging system :3 and I’ll follow you back so we can share photos without it being blurred lmao. It’s rly easy and you can use any username like even a keyboard smash, as long as you tell me you’re one of my anons I’ll know it’s you :3
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zefforuins · 2 years ago
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Writing a post-Arkham Knight fic and want the thoughts of a certified Arkham!Jason enjoyer: how do you think the rest of the Arkhamverse family (esp.Dick and Tim) would react to learning Jason 1) is alive 2) was the Arkham Knight 3) is now the Red Hood
Oh my god ok so of course because of the wonderful audio logs we know how Barbra would react! I think that the Arkham Knight audio logs are sooo well written and even though they’re short I think they give us a lot about how Jason feels and how he would act around like. Anyone who isn’t Bruce so I defo would listen to those again (also just listen again cause i love them <3)
One thing that's important to me is the fact that Jason’s anger is directed pretty much 100% at Bruce (and Joker but he’s already dead, so Bruce is all he has left). Do other people get hurt because of that anger? Absolutely. But Bruce is really his focus. He never blames Alfred, Barbra, Dick, or Tim. 
So Dick. The closest we get to seeing them interact is Jason sending Deathstroke to attack Dick and Tim, and he shoots out one of the tires in Dick’s motorcycle. He also doesn’t have much to say about him outside of the fact that “he was the first” and that he’s pretty good at what he does, and I don't think Dick ever really talks about Jason so this is going to really just be my personal opinion. I’m not sure how you want to set up him finding out (is it a direct meeting, does someone tell him etc) but let’s say Dick finds out because everyone has a lil regroup post game (im ignoring the knightfall stuff because the manor blowing up leaves no room for fun with the fam imo) and so Bruce breaks the news Jason is alive, and also straight up was trying to kill him. 
Something to consider: do we want dick to have seen that video of jason getting shot? He has a line in game that shows he knows Jasons dead. I guess I could see Bruce getting that video from Joker, waiting a period of time and keeping it to himself, and then telling Dick and Babs (like when he thought Barbra died). I feel like Dick would've wanted to know how Bruce knows and would've wanted to see the video, maybe get a lil pissed that Bruce waited so long to tell everyone or whatever.
Anyway I think the first thing everyones told is simply: Jason is alive. Dick’s overwhelmed, absolutely in shock because he definitely Saw Jason Get Shot And Die, and he’s like what are you talking about is this a joke is he okay and if he’s alive where the fuck is he? Jason was such a sweet kid and I like to imagine they had a good relationship in the time Jason was Robin, so I feel like this would hit Dick as hard as it does Bruce. Then Bruce has to tell them like yeah hes….sort of okay and he actually was the Arkham Knight 😬. Which Dick is just like. This is a fucking joke. That kid???? The lil dude who went bezerko over the amount of books in his room? Who was so fucking happy to be adopted into the family and to have a brother?? He’s the one who fucked up the entire city? He’s in shock but also like. Why would they lie to him so he just has to wrestle with the fact that Jason was the Arkham Knight. Bruce probably goes into how Jason didn’t actually die and was tortured by Joker and how he basically rewired Jason's mind and how the culmination of that was him getting revenge on him for abandoning him etc. Which is a lot to handle of course and I’m sure Dick feels terrible about it because if there's one thing Dick is gonna do is take responsibility and feel guilty over things that aren’t his fault. And even with that new outfit Bruce def knows Jason is Red Hood and tells them that as well. Which again Dick is just like.
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head spinning cause how is that the kid he knew and literally so much has gone on since halloween and now all this info? I assume Dick knows about this Red Hood guy cause I’m sure he keeps up with new people popping up like that in Gotham and he probably knows his MO with the guns and killing and whatnot. Ultimately I think he’d want to talk to Jason, fully understand what's going on, bring him home and he’d probably slide some “hey lets not kill people” in there as well? He’d feel like shit for everything that happened but also I feel he would firmly want to talk Jason down from killing (but I dont think he’d be mean about it! I hate in the comics when people talk about that stuff with jason it so quickly turns physical or just gets like. Really pointed and mean :( hes my special lil guy and he should simply be allowed to do whatever he wants)
Okayyy now Mr. Timothy. Let's also go with post game regroup because Tim was out of commission for a lil bit post game I imagine so he’d have no way to meet Jason until he heals up. So, with Dick I felt like it would be a very personal thing. Because he knew Jason. But Tim never did. And so of course Tim is still a very caring person and would have heard about Jason and I’m sure feels some sort of connection to him in that way, but I think with him it's more “I know exactly how Jason affected everyone in this room. I saw how Batman changed after he was gone, I saw how Dick reacted when he saw that video, and I had to hear the pain in Bruce’s voice every time he mistakenly called me Jason and tried to correct himself. (which side note, i fucking love how thats canon and bruce straight up does it in game it makes me go crazy every time i hear it)
But something I think is interesting is that Jason never thinks like “this new kid is a piece of shit and doesnt deserve to be robin because he's an idiot, i should take him out.” he’s kinda more focused on the fact that Tim is probably going to get hurt just like he did. (he does call him a sick joke and later replacement once in AK:Genesis but that really feels like joker stuff, and I think once he was less revenge focused and was able to see that the world that Joker had built for him isn’t reality he wouldn’t really think too badly abt Tim and literally as Im writing this I get to the part in AK:Genesis where Jason sees his memorial and he calls HIS uniform a joke as well, so I wonder if that remark has less to do with Tim and more with how he sees the persona of Robin in general, and if his own experiences have now tainted the way he feels about it. Jason is well aware of how broken he is in game, and so I think there's a level of self hatred in him that he may be projecting) When he’s in Arkham Knight Mode he's very laser focused and he doesn’t have a personal connection to Tim so he never tries to like save him or something but he does remark on the fact that he thinks Bruce’s whole thing is bull and that he doesn’t think Bruce cares about Tim because Bruce didn’t care about him either(from his warped pov obv).
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(First image is from AK:Genesis, Second from the Batman:Arkham Knight Annual where Jason gets injected with fear toxin and hallucinates this fight with Tim)
Sooooo I don’t think there would ever be any rivalry between the two. Maybe a bit of worry from Tim of like damn is he gonna fucking hate me?? But it’s not an issue really. But anyway, less personal connection to Jason but still incredibly sympathetic. Red Hood reveal, def knows what the Red Hood’s whole deal is, and I would say is even more firm than Dick in the stop killing people thing. Again, he didn’t know Jason so I think were he to ever meet him on patrol he wouldn't sit there like man :(((( pls stop :((( i understand you and my heart is broken but dont kill ppl,,,,,<</3333333….. He would probably straight up just be like Dude. You cant be doing that around here. I understand that a lot of shits happened and you think that this is the best course of action but there is a reason Bruce never wanted us to kill. Please lets just consider something less permanent and let me take you to Bruce cause he definitely wants to talk.
OH and if you dont wanna do Bruce stuff and you just want it to be the kids you could easily have Barbra be the one who relays the info to them since she knows quite a bit and was able to have a personal convo w Jason :)
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eyanin · 2 years ago
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Heyo I'm studying 3D modeling for college and I was wondering if I could use your concept art to practice making models? (Also would you be ok if I used the models in my portfolio? If so how would you like to be credited?)
Yeah, go for it! ☺️ It's so fun to see my art transformed into 3D models. Just make sure to use my original art, not commissioned work or anything else based on another person's creative ideas. Also feel free to display the models in your portfolio — 'original concept by Eyanin' or something like that would be a sufficient credit. And if reasonably possible, a link leading directly to any of my online platforms is always appreciated! 🙏
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nicholasgoodgirl · 2 months ago
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that was mean- nicholas
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summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.
warning: argument, crying, happy ending
a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out
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from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.
we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.
he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed
when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend
i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.
to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.
--
i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.
it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed
i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.
me: how's your day going so far?? :)
and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply
it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?
i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.
spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought
i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.
i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.
i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.
i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.
--
a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.
i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.
i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.
thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"
"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza
"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.
"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.
"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face
and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything
i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.
my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment
"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.
he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.
"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.
the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.
i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."
"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds
the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.
i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.
my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.
my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap
i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.
i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.
"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.
a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza
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uzurakis · 7 months ago
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hii again!! I’m here to request a Drabble/headcannon (doesn’t matter to me :3) where the reader gets approached by two strangers n one of them goes ‘hi my friend thinks you’re cute’ and motions to their friend next to them even though the jjk men (yuta and Megumi but feel free to add anyone else!) is literally RIGHT next to them (this happened during lunch a week ago n all my friends laughed at me 😭😭😭)
WHEN A STRANGER CALLS YOU CUTE IN PUBLIC!
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featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji.
n. hi baby! i supposed you’re the same nonnie that requested the stalker one? thank you for trusting me with your requests cause yours are always enjoyable to write and your ideas are *french kiss*. i hope ya like this one and please if you have any ideas you wanna share, hmu! ill always write yours bby. mwaah xoxo
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hey, excuse me! my friend thinks you’re cute . .
ITADORI YUUJI. you exchanged a surprised glance with itadori, who cracked a smile sheepishly. "oh yeah? thanks," he replied, clearly missing the implication. the stranger nudged their friend, urging them to speak up. "uh, yeah," offering a nervous smile. "you're really cute."
your boyfriend only chuckled, oblivious to their intentions. "right? my girlfriend is the cutest!” he said proudly, pinching your cheeks infront of them. “yuu, we’re in public..”
the strangers shared a bewildered look, realizing that their attempt to strike up a conversation with you had been unintentionally thwarted. "uh, yeah, you’re really lucky," the stranger managed to mumble before they awkwardly excuse themselves and slipped back into the crowd.
you and itadori watched them go, bemused expressions on your faces. "did you catch what they were trying to do?" you asked, stifling a laugh. itadori shook his head, still clueless. "nah, but it doesn't matter. i already know who the cutest one here is," he said, planting a kiss on your cheek, causing you to giggle at his oblivion.
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GOJO SATORU. before you could respond, gojo stepped forward, subtly clearing his throat. you shot him a puzzled look, wondering what he was up to. “yeah? well, she's taken," declaring at once, voice laced with amusement as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
the strangers kept eyeing you curiously, seemingly undisturbed by the statement he made. "oh really? too awful," one of them remarked, maintaining a smile.
gojo raised an eyebrow, exchanging a knowing glance with you. it was clear they weren't getting the hint. with a sigh, he cleared his throat again, this time louder, as he firmly took your hand and started to lead you away. “sorry, folks, but we're kinda busy," your boyfriend said with a charming smile, gently steering you in the opposite direction.
as you both walked away, gojo grinned down at you. "just making sure they know who you belong to, darling,” he said, pulling you closer as you continued your walk through the path.
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FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you immediately glanced nervously at megumi beside you. however, your boyfriend remained silent, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the strangers.
unsure of how to reply, you gave the stranger a hesitant smile. megumi didn't express his jealousy, but it was obvious that he was still very much in the dark about it. the stress was literally radiating off of him. "um, thank you," you managed to murmur, feeling awkward under megumi's scrutiny.
the strangers seemed unfazed by megumi's silence, continuing to chat amicably with you. they asked questions, trying to engage you both in conversation, but megumi remained aloof, his attention solely focused on you. you glanced at him, catching the tightness in his jaw and the furrow in his brow. he was clearly uncomfortable, but he didn't make a move to pull you away from the strangers. rather, he only stood there, sulkily contemplating.
sensing his unease, you subtly shifted closer to him, hoping to offer some reassurance. megumi glanced down at you, his gaze softening ever so slightly before returning to the strangers, "hey, you done talking?" he shot at the strangers with thinly veiled irritation.
he then sighed, a hint frustration crossing his features. without another word, he gently took your hand and pulled you away from the conversation, his grip firm but not forceful. as you walked, you stole a glance at megumi, finding his expression softened slightly, his jealousy dissipating now that you were out of the strangers' reach. “i didn’t feel it like has to be said, but,” a tint of red swelled on his face, his eyes denying your gaze. “yeah, you’re always pretty. and if you need someone to say it, just,”
“just ask me, okay?”
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YUTA OKKOTSU. you responded with a timid smile, sensing yuuta's comforting presence beside you. he let out a soft chuckle, his laughter soothed the situation as you thanked the compliment. "i appreciate it.”
yuuta's casual reaction didn’t appear to dismiss the strangers, as they continue to strike up a discussion as though you’ve been friends for years. while yuuta stays a silent yet watchful presence, they kept the questions going.
after a while, yuuta's smile widened, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he glanced at his watch. "it was fun talking to you guys," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "but me and my girlfriend need to be somewhere else."
you blinked in surprise at his sudden intervention, but the strangers took it in stride and finally offering their farewells. after they walked away, you turned to yuuta, curiosity piqued by his unexpected assertiveness.
"you’re not going to say anything about it?” you commented, impressed by his ability to not get jealous or anything else in between. yuuta brushed your hair, his gaze warm with affection. "cause they weren’t wrong though. you are the cutest.”
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@uzurakis — reqs are open! <3
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frmisnow · 4 months ago
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BORDEAUX !
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summary. after you realize that the man you had a drunk one night stand with, was in fact your new ceo. you settle on avoiding him as best as you could- but why do you feel so drawn to him?
notes. welcome to a new verse (aka. series), usually most of my series are more fluffy w a touch of smut (besides two whores, one job lol) but this one is gonna be a lot more angsty and smutty! so i hope y'all are into that kinda jam 🍷⭒⋆。˚
warnings /includes. (1.7 k words / suggestive!) non idol! ceo! jungkook x non specified! reader, alcohol, shitty ex :/, jk is an alcohol nerd?, reader kind of uses him to kill bad memories ?, making out
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the air was heavy with the scent of alcohol and smoke melted with the faint music somewhere in the background: jazz, how unfitting for this kind of environment. the enviornment which people go to specifically to escape reality, for a few minutes, maybe a few hours.
the alcohol wasn't bad, at least judging by the wine and it offered a sense of peace or rebellion, stupid fucking rebellion. your ex used to despise wine with all of his heart, he hated the scent of it, didn't want you to drink any of it near him.
he didn't like when you drank alcohol over all, he was stern on the idea of keeping you innoccent. you chugged down the glass like a shot at the sheer memory of the behavior you used to put up with.
the glass hits the table with a dull thud and you could almost hear his voice, scolding you for how reckless you were. you reach out for the bottle, pouring yourself another glass. and this time you savor the taste on your tongue, the rich flavor.
you feel eyes burning into your face, no- not burning, observing. it didn't feel uncomfortable but you could firmly feel them on you. the man's presence cut through the fog of alcohol and self-pity that had settled over you, and for a moment, you simply stared.
you should have looked away, but you didn’t. instead, you lifted your glass to your lips, taking another sip of wine, feeling the liquid slide down your throat, heavy and warm. he watched you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes never leaving yours.
he stands up making his way to you, and suddenly the crowd and all the shitty memories fade away, it was almost like he had a bigger effect on you then the alcohol did and that said a lot.
finally, he spoke, his voice low and smooth, like velvet draped over steel. “mind if i join you?”
the question was formal, did he work in business? no, that would be stupid to assume based of just a question. you nod, slowly but surerly, motioning towards the chair next to you.
he takes the seat next to you, signaling for a nearby waiter, requesting another glass, before turning his attention back to you. his gaze is intense and unwavering, as if he’s trying to see straight through to your soul.
“rough night?” he asks, his tone conversational but his eyes still focused intently on you.
his thigh touched yours, the proximity with somebody you didn't know should make you feel uncomfortable but it strangely didn't. "yeah," you mouth. the whole truth was too complicated, too raw, to lay out infront of a stranger.
a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, before he speaks again, his voice was soft, almost soothing. "you're downing that glass like it's water."
you look at the almost empty glass that your fingers had been circling around while talking to him, he was right. you didn't even remember how many glasses you had, three perhaps?
"you have a pretty voice," you mumble, finshing what was left of liquid in the glass.
he raised an eyebrow at the compliment, surprised by the sudden comment from you. he can't help but chuckle a little, amused by the drunken confession. "thank you," he replies, sounding sincere.
you both barerly talked, you were two strangers in a cheap bar, why bother talking about boring jobs? the night was young.
the music in the background shifted, a slower, bluesy tune now. the more you looked at him, the more you could firmly feel his thigh pressed into your own. his fingers, tattooed, why hadn't you noticed that earlier? took the wine bottle from earlier, tilting it around to look at the label. he seemed to know the brand, humming in approval.
"it's a good vintage." he says, still holding the bottle but his eyes are on you, studying your face in the dim light.
and this actually managed to crack a smile out of you. it wasn't meant to be a funny comment, in fact he seemed serious about it. was he an alcohol expert? the fact that you knew absolutly nothing about wine made it better.
he takes a sip from his own glass, his eyes never leaving yours. he can't help but find your lack of knowledge about wine oddly endearing.
please, talk me stupid about alcohol. i want to know what rebellion tastes like. the words linger on your tongue but you don't cave into the urge of saying them. i want you to teach me what he was so afraid of showing me.
"i have a whole collection of rare and expensive wines back at my place. some you would never find even in the best bars," he pauses, his hand brushing slightly against your arm.
"are you trying to make me come home with you?" you ask though it's not a question you necessarily need an answer to, you knew what he had meant.
"and if i was?" his eyes stay on yours, tilting his head, "would you come with me?"
stupid fucking question.
the second you step into his apartment, the door closing behind you, he is already on you. his hands are on your waist, holding you firmly in place as his tongue invades your mouth, tasting the mixture of your saliva and the rich flavor of the wine.
when you both take time to breathe, you ask, "so where is the wine you were talking about?" your tone is clearly intoxicated, your eyes a little hazy as he doesn't let go of you and you both stumble towards his living room together. the action seeming strangely domestic.
"it's right there." his voice a tad bit breathless, he motions towards a large display of alcohol, his eyes scanning the selection before settling on a particular bottle.
he reaches for the bottle, the arm around your waist still keeping you close to him, the alcohol clearly making the both of you more touchier then you would be sober.
jungkook holds up the bottle, letting you get a good look at the label. it was an expensive brand, even you could tell that, the words written on it swirling in an elegant script.
you hum, "italy," leaning into his touch sub counciously whilst he drew little circles over the clothed skin, twisting the bottle, "when did you get this?"
"i have a guy who brings me the good stuff from time to time."
your eyes wandered over the display, you wanted to kneel forward to look over the bottles but didn't want to get out of his embrace either.
it felt good, doing everything your ex would scrutinize you for. he'd be disapproving off even letting you look over all of these.
his head made a little motion towards almost like a silent 'go on' like he could firmly hear your thoughts.
the bottles seemed rare, visably very espensive and whilst you looked over the alcohol, he looked at you.
"what do you think?" he asks after a few minutes, tone soft and quiet like he didn't want to disturb you.
"i think i've had enough to drink already but it's all really pretty," you trail off, "you're really pretty"
jungkook smiles at the comment, reaching forward to run his fingers through your hair, the gesture seemingly absentminded yet surprisingly tender, "is that the alcohol talking?"
you shrug, grinning, "i honestly don't know"
he studies your face for a moment, his eyes roving over your features. he reaches out, his fingers grazing your jawline, the touch light and gentle. "you know, you're very pretty yourself," he says, his voice almost a murmur.
the color of the red wine in your hands is now the exact color of your cheeks and your mind is empty as you lean forward to kiss him once more.
this time when your lips meet, it was rather delicate and slow. as you both sat on the ground next to the large display and kissed eachother like it was the end of the world.
and you don't stop when you felt like you couldn't breathe, placing your hand on his chest, feeling the pulse beneath the shirt. this was what drowning memories was all about.
your ex didn't kiss like this. he didn't hold you like this and he most certaintly will never get the chance to redeem himself ever.
you find yourselves sinking to the floor while jungkook craddles your face as if you were something precious, something worth cherishing.
your ex kissed you just to check of the foreplay box, jungkook kisses you because he wants to.
"i want you," you mumur against his lips as you both take time to breathe.
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you wake up to harsh sunlight filtering through the blinds, you realize you're lying on a coach. his coach. the cool leather fabric is a stark contrast to your bare skin, that's when you notice — you’re only in your panties. red lace with little bows.
the rest of your clothes are scattered on the floor, your shirt draped over the armrest, your skirt crumpled beside it.
you try to piece the events of last night together, did you sleep together? ... you can't quite remember. you sit up slowly, your head pounding with the dull throb of a hangover.
jungkook's presence was no where to be found, the apartment was dead quiet. he left you here, naked and confused: what a dick.
you do your best to gather the clothes, slipping into them, you search for your phone, finding it next to the alcohol display. you take another look at the various bottles, now sober.
you shake your head at how easy you were yesterday, checking the time on your phone until your heart drops — the meeting. the meeting you could not afford to miss.
you let out a groan of frustration, fighting the zipper of your skirt, great- you were going to meet your new ceo looking and feeling like a mess.
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you step into the large building with your heart still pounding, why did the metro station have to be so far away from your job? running as fast as you can had been your only option.
you push through the glass doors of the conference room, instantly sitting down, you did not want the people to look even more then a second at the wrinkled skirt of yours.
the important man stands facing away from you, writing something down on a white board. he seemed pretty tall, confident posture.
and then he turns around.
your expression drops. it's him. it's the man from last night.
🍓 tag list — @chansloverr , @marimarvelfan , @bxcndd
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ahiijny · 2 years ago
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previous reblogged post
#anyway we used to talk a lot but even tho we went to the same uni we didnt have any classes in common and we kinda drifted apart#i really hope this wasnt my fault lol#bc one time during orientation week i was watching the charity hair shave thign and then i saw oomf walking along#but i wasnt REALLY sure if it was them since i was kinda far away and i didnt want it to be awkward in case i got the wrong person#so i just kinda... said nothing and hoped they would say something first?#and we kinda made eye contact and none of us said anything so i was thinking 'maybe it's the wrong person after all' but maybe it was??#it was really awkward aaaaaa#and then we kinda just stopped talking the entire time i was in uni#a while after i made an insta account last year we became moots on there and sometimes reply to each other's stories but#this is like once every 2 months and im so bad at making the conversations last any longer than a couple of responses#sadge#there was one other oomf i was kinda close with in uni#but mainly it's bc we shared a lot of classes#when two introverts -> ZERO talking (lol ^_^;;)#(unless theres like assignments or study materials to discuss)#and they definitely had a closer knit friend group i was kind of an outsider to#there was one other person they were pretty close to in high school (before i really got to know them) and they went to prom together#funnily enough im pretty sure (not completely sure tho bc i never asked lol) theyre both aro/ace so it makes a lot of sense#anyway ill probably delete these late night ramblings later o7
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cressidagrey · 9 days ago
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Holy Ground - Chapter 2
Summary:
Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.
Warning:
Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries
If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.
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Azriel’s shadows liked to spoil his mate rotten.
Not that Azriel could find anything wrong with that.
She deserved more for putting up with him. 
More than new tea from the Dawn Court and her favourite chocolate covered, wafer thin cookies from a small bakery near the Sidra…more than the occasional embroidery thread they snuck her…More than whatever animal he went to go hunt, to cover his bed in even more furs just for her. 
He nearly had enough Sable furs to have a blanket made for her for Winter Solstice…
Azriel also had half a mind to go sneak in her office later that day. 
Just as a treat for not killing either of his brothers. For being civil. 
Rhys had come over for sparring, unnannounced. 
Azriel had hoped to have some peace and quiet today, but it seemed like Rhys had other plans. 
Currently Cassian and Rhys were wrestling with less sense than they had had when they were just kids, and Azriel was cleaning his weapons, watching from the sidelines.
Azriel couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of his brothers roughhousing. It was typical of them to turn a simple sparring session into some kind of ridiculous competition. He focused on sharpening his knives, trying to ignore their antics.
"You know, we could also actually train properly," he called out, his tone dry. "Instead of wrestling like a bunch of children."
Cassian looked up from his grappling with Rhys, grinning. "Oh, come on Az. Don't be such a stick in the mud. Loosen up, have a little fun for once."
Azriel's expression remained impassive. "I'm perfectly capable of having fun, Cassian. But I prefer to do so without rolling around in the dirt like a wild animal."
Rhysand chuckled, standing up and clapping Cassian on the back. "It's good to let loose every now and then, Az. You should try it sometime. It might make your brooding sessions a little less depressing."
Azriel just grunted in response, not willing to engage in a verbal sparring match with Rhys. He continued to clean his weapons, hoping that the training session would end soon so he could escape his brothers' teasing.
“When did you even come home yesterday?” Cassian asked him.
Azriel looked up from his work, his expression neutral. "Around 11," he said simply.
“You didn’t come to dinner,” Rhys pointed out. “You were missed.”
He highly doubted that.
And maybe he had made that mission in Dawn just a little while longer, so that he knew that dinner would be over and when he came home, he wouldn’t need to be alone.
Azriel just shrugged. "I was busy," he said, offering no further explanation. He knew his brothers were just trying to rile him up, and he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.
*Are you still pissed of at me?* Rhys asked him mentally with a sigh. *I get it. But you don’t need to avoid everybody else, just because…*
*I’m not avoiding anyone,* Azriel replied, his mental voice tight. *I’m simply choosing to spend my time how I see fit.*
“I was busy,” he repeated aloud.
Cassian rolled his eyes. "You're always busy, Az. You know, there's such thing as taking a break once in a while. Spending time with your family."
Or he could spent time with his mate. He could spent time with his mate, who let him brush her hair and even braid it …who pressed kisses to his horrible scarred hands and smiled at him. 
If it was a choice between Irena or a family dinner where he didn’t want to stay longer than an hour or two, because he was still too fucking pissed off at Rhys…the choice was easy. 
“Or is there a special somebody?” Cassian teased him.
Azriel glowered at him. "It’s none of your business." He went back to working on his weapons, his expression tense.
*You can’t keep panting after Elain for the rest of your life,* Rhys said mentally. *Look, I know I didn’t…I am sorry. But she’s happy with Lucien and…*
*Don’t worry, I’ll go to a pleasure hall and pay for it if I want to fuck somebody,* Azriel shot back viciously.
Or his own hand would suffice. More than suffice, especially if…especially if Irena had let him kiss her the evening before…sometimes he waited until she disappeared into her room, and he buried his face in the pillows that smelled like her, fisted his cock and rutted like an untried boy for seconds before he came all over himself. 
It was still better than any other sex he ever had had before.
Cassian raised an eyebrow at him. "It sounds like you need to get laid," he said, chuckling. "Maybe that'll help with your bad mood."
Azriel shot him a glare. "Mind your own business, Cassian. My love life is none of your concern."
Rhysand gave him a sympathetic look. *We just want you to be happy, Az. You deserve happiness.*
“Ohhh, touchy,” Cassian said with a snort.
Azriel just gritted his teeth, his temper rising. "Cassian, if you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear to the Mother, I’ll shut it for you."
Cassian just grinned at him. "Come on, Az. I’m just teasing you. Lighten up."
Azriel's grip on his weapons tightened. "I don't like your teasing, Cassian. And I certainly don't appreciate you making assumptions about my personal life.”
Mostly he just wanted his brothers to leave him the hell alone.
And then...then before he could say another thing...he felt the shaking.
And then the sound came. An eardrum shattering explosion, the very foundation of the House of Wind shaking. It was terrifying him.
Irena was down there in her office. Nesta was in there. 
He was moving before he was even thinking. 
*Merrill's office, Master!* the shadows screeched.
Azriel was already running.
Cassian hot on his heels, so was Rhys.
Azriel was faster, heaving shadows around his limbs as he rocketed down the spiral stairs of the House of Wind.
Level Two, Straight to the right. Clearly...Clearly the epicenter of the blast. Of the explosion…of whatever had happened.
He pushed as hard as he could, legs burning as he hurtled down the hallway to Merrill's office.
He wasn't the only one. "Merrill!" He could hear Gwyn's shrill voice screaming, coming to a stop in a hallway of what had once been Merrill's office but now was just...
It was a mass of wood and rubble.
He barely slowed down, scrambling into action. Gwyn was already digging through it, so where Nesta and Emerie. Cassian landed behind him, immediately moving some of the debris.
His shadows swarmed as he and the others quickly dug at the rubble. Looking, desperately looking.
He moved another piece of rubble out of the way...a piece of blue cloths. The same blue cloth that he knew covered Irena's body, the scent of poppies clinging to her...Without a thought, he grasped and then dragged, a hoarse shout that was her, that was her...
He felt as if he were choking, as if he were drowning as he dragged out her body. Bloody, bruised, broken but still...still there was a faint flicker, a faint, thready heartbeat.
His heartbeat pounding in his ears, he tried to pick up on her heart. There was barely a flicker. Too fast, too faint, she was barely holding on. Barely hanging by a thread.
There was blood pooling on her abdomen, dying the blue dress she wore bright scarlet red, He put pressure on that wound immediately, leaning on her with nearly all his weight, his fingers slick with blood. "Damn it, stay with me, love," he demanded sharply.
Azriel felt like he could barely breath. Like he was falling, tumbling down as he tried to will her to stay with him. Stay. Stay. Stay. Please stay. Stay...
Rhys was there suddenly, checking her pulse. "Breathing is erratic. She's in shock," he told Azriel with a grimace. "Mor is getting Madja..."
"Az..." her voice was so weak, but he turned to see dark brown eyes watching him, brows furrowing.
"Just keep breathing, Love," he told her, trying to stop his voice from shaking.
He could barely hear what was going on around him. It was as if he were in a bubble, a world of just himself and her and the desperate beat of her heart under his fingers.
"I am sorry," she whispered.
"There is nothing you need to apologise for her, Irena," he promised her sharply. "Absolutely nothing."
Irena's eyes drifted shut. Azriel felt like something was dying inside him as her heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His world was collapsing, shattering into pieces as her breath stuttered.
"Stay. Just stay..." he was barely aware of what he was saying, his eyes frantically searching hers. She had to stay. He would do anything to keep her here. Anything.
"I am still owing you that flight," he told her. She hadn't let him take her flying yet. They had snuck away in the library...in the rooftop garden...in her office. But he had never gotten to take her flying. He had never gotten to take her out into Velaris. They had never had a date at a fancy restaurant, had never gone to see the symphony. There were thousands of things that he hadn't yet gotten to do with his mate, because they had all the time in the world.
Irena just stared at him, her eyes pleading, as her heartbeat slowed, fluttering weaker and weaker. Azriel felt a sharp pain in his chest as fear clawed at his spine. "Just hold on a little longer, love," he whispered. "Please."
And then there Madja. Thank the cauldron. There she was.
Azriel could barely manage to let go of her, his mind consumed with the singular thought of Irena's laboured, erratic heartbeat as he moved back. Madja immediately set to work.
He lunged for her head, lunged to pull it on his lap, to touch her with blood slick fingertips, her normally rosy red lips pale, her skin even whiter than usual.
"Hurts," she whispered, as Madja set to work, barking orders.
"I know, I know, love," he whispered, touching her cheek with his fingertips as Madja got to work.
His eyes searched hers as he murmured those words over and over, as if he could somehow hold her in this world through sheer force of will alone.
"We haven't had enough time," he whispered desperately, leaning his forehead against hers.
She was slipping away. He could feel it. Feel her slipping, feel her heartbeat slow. Feel the thread that tethered her to this world fray, fray, fray...
No. He couldn't lose her. Would not let her leave him. He had waited far too long for her. Far, far too long to let her slip through his fingers.
"Stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me."
But her eyes were slipping shut, her head lolling to the side. He gently patted her cheek, trying to urge her back to consciousness, but he didn't think he was even really aware of what he was doing, where he was. The world had boiled down to a desperate litany, in his head. Stay...stay...please...don't you dare...
“I am going to be so furious with you if you die. We may have our first fight,” he told her fiercely.
He needed her to know that he would be there to be furious with her if she dared to die, that she couldn't die. Couldn't. That she had to stay. Had to keep fighting. There were too many things ahead of them...a wedding to plan, children to have, years and years of life to live.
“Az,” she breathed his name, her eyes not even open anymore.
“Open your eyes, Irena,” he demanded. “Look at me, love,”
Her eyes finally fluttered open at his command. It was barely more than a slither of brown, but he latched onto it, taking it for what it was. A chance. A moment to get through to her.
He wasn't sure what he was saying, but the words spilled forth from him, a litany, a desperate prayer. "Please," he breathed, "don't go...don't you dare..."
He was dimly aware that the others had gathered, but he didn't dare look away. Didn't dare look away from her as he cradled her head, trying to pour all of his prayers into those words. All of his hope and desperation.
"You can't go." A statement. An order. An absolute certainty in his voice. "I will not let you go."
He wouldn't. Would never, ever let her go. Would drag her back from the Cauldron's grasp with bloodied and broken hands if thats what had to be.
She didn't speak. Didn't need to. He could read her answer in her eyes, the determination in those brown eyes as she tried so, so hard to stay.
It was as if she were holding on for him, because he had asked her to. Because it was him there with her. Like she would fight until her last breath because he told her too. He didn't deserve this beautiful creature, who was willing to fight for him, willing to live for him.
It was something primal, something desperate, something fierce as he whispered those words over and over, like a prayer. "Fight. Fight. Fight."
And she listened. She did. He could feel her hold on, just barely grasp hold of that tether that kept her in this world. Just barely keep her eyes open.
Just look at him.
And she did, those dark eyes unfocused but open, staring up at him, watching him. Trying so, so hard. It nearly made his heart stop in the most terrible way that she was struggling for him.
And he was so proud of her. Of the way she was fighting like she was. Of the way she was grasping, hanging on to life like she was.
The seconds stretched too thin, feeling like eternities and only the slightest of moments. But her eyes were open, if only barely. She hadn't given up. Hadn't let go.
He was dimly aware of the others, Gwyn hovering with a worried expression, Madja murmuring quiet instructions to the others, Rhys kneeling not far away. But he barely glanced at them, barely dared to take his eyes off Irena.
He was certain that if he looked away, if he let this tenuous thread sever, that she would die. That as long as he kept her here, she wouldn't slip, wouldn't let go.
He had one hand on her cheek, her skin still clammy and pale, as her eyes slipped open and shut. But everytime, they would find his face. His eyes, like he was the only thing tethering her to the world. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her barely holding on, only that last sliver of determination keeping her here.
"Please," he pleaded, whispering those words like a prayer, like he would be praying to a vengeful god. Those moments felt like eternities, stretching on and on with only his desperate whispers. "Please..."
The world felt so still, so silent as if the world was holding its breath. Azriel's eyes locked on Irena, silently begging her, asking her to please, please...
Live, live live... he whispered those words over and over, a desperate plea to the Mother, the Cauldron, to anyone who would listen. To Irena, the only person in the entire world who truly mattered in that moment.
Her eyes were growing glassy, slipping closed only to jerk open again. Stay he demanded. Keep looking at me. Please.
She tried. Mother, she tried. Her eyes drifted to him, the smallest hint of life, of a spark there in those dark brown eyes.
He hardly dared to breathe, hardly dared to move. Afraid that any wrong move could tip her over the edge, could pull her into that chasm of non-existence that she was desperately clinging too.
He felt something pricking at his eyes, felt something in his chest cracking, breaking at the sheer intensity of emotions thrumming through him. It hurt. Hurt so much to see her like this, so pale, barely holding on, barely conscious...
“Alright,” Madja said quietly. “Good girl. You were so very brave.”
"Will...will she be alright?" He asked, voice hoarse.
He didn't let his eyes drift from Irena's face, her half lidded eyes staring at him. It filled him with such an intense pang of relief and fear at the same time. Relief, because she was alive...and fear, because they had been so close to losing her.
"She's not out of the woods yet," Madja warned. "But she'll make it. She lost a lot of blood. It will take some time to get her vitals stable again."
He felt like he could breathe for the first time. It was almost dizzying, the sheer, intense relief that flooded through him. Irena was here. Irena would live. It filled his veins with an almost drug like euphoria, that made him light headed, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
He barely managed to keep that feeling in, the pure euphoria from showing as he smoothed a strand of hair back from her face. "Thank you," he whispered, voice hoarse, eyes finally dragging away from Irena's face to look at Madja. "Just...thank you."
He looked back at Irena, taking in her face. Alive. Still alive. Still here with him, not gone. The tension seeped from his shoulders, a strange sort of exhaustion taking over. As if all the adrenaline that had fueled him, the fear, was slowly draining out of him like water.
“Merrill,” Irena whispered, her voice near silent.
Azriel felt his fingers brush her cheek, just the gentlest touch as he tried to keep it together. It had been too close. Too, too close. He couldn't stop the overwhelming feelings flowing through him of elation and fear as he looked down at her as he looked down at her, alive. Alive and breathing and whispering soft words. "Shhh," he whispered softly. "Save your strength. Don't strain yourself."
He looked up finding Cassians gaze who just shook his head. Merrill was dead.
Azriel couldn't quite process that information, not in that moment. His eyes were still drawn to Irena, still unable to take his eyes off of her for more than a moment. His fingers brushed her cheek again, just the faintest touch as he pressed a small kiss to her forehead. "Rest," he instructed softly. "I'll be right there.” He promised.
“Being here to her room,” Madja said quietly.
“My room,” he corrected.
The priestesses dormitory was locked from males. If he even tried to get in there it would’ve end well for him. And he wouldn’t leave her side.
“Your room?” Gwyn asked sharply.
“Gwyn,” Rhys said quietly.Azriel didn't even acknowledge Gwyn's words, didn't have the energy. All he could focus on was the way Irena's eyes had drifted shut, the steady rise and fall of her chest. She would be alright. She was going to be alright. She was alive. Right now, in that moment, thats all that mattered.
“Az, how long have the two of you…” Cassian asked hesitantly.
Azriel just shrugged, his hand resting on Irena's hair, smoothing back from her face. “Two years. She’s my mate,” he said flatly as he gathered her up. 
“Mate,” she rasped. “Mine.”
“Yours,” he agreed softly.
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prael · 1 month ago
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WYR-0573: Dirty Little Student Wang Yiren And Her Sexy Secret Camgirl Life Tempts Horny Teacher Into Rough Fuck and Creampie!
Everglow Yiren x male reader smut
Thankyou @co-reborn for allowing me to spiritually succeed this fic (Everyone read it if you haven't already.)
Masterlist word count: 4,221 Kofi(donations/commissions)
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It seems like everything these days is a fucking ethics issue. It's not like you're trying to do anything that's going to hurt somebody. You're not ripping off old people, you're not laundering money, you're not putting lives at risk.
Shit, it's just a bit of fun, but if anyone finds out you've had your cock inside Wang Yiren, then the ethics committee is going to eat you alive. It doesn't matter if she wants your cock in there just as badly as you do.
You have to get creative to make it work. First thing is first: get her out of your office. Sure, it's not unusual for a student to take some office time with her thesis advisor, but walking out in the state she does? Her cheeks flushed, and her blouse dishevelled, with a slight, satisfied smile on her face and her panties stuffed into the front pocket of her backpack.
People are going to notice, and that can't happen.
There's a part of you that wishes you could make it stop outright, but you can't. Every time she uploads another one of those videos, your eyes are locked to your computer screen and your cock's locked in your hand.
Maybe it's the novelty of knowing that the girl on the camera's not just any other girl on the internet; it's perhaps the fact that she's the girl that you've had inside your office. Maybe it's that her body's incredible; her tits are small and pert, her ass tight, and that little slit of a pussy is just begging to be fucked.
Or maybe, it's how openly she will sit across from you at your desk and ask you so casually what you thought of her latest video with the same sort of inflection that a student would use to ask you about the latest reading. "I wasn't really sure if the whole clamping my nipples thing worked. I mean, it was kinda hot, I guess. And I got off pretty hard, so there's that. What'd you think?"
What do you think?
You're a good guy—a good professor—so you give her honest feedback, "I thought it was hot, Yiren, but it took a while for you to get into it. Was that your first time? Playing with your nipples that way?"
"Mhm." You can see the little smirk curl up on her face, "I was hoping it wasn't obvious that I was nervous. It's tough getting started with some new kinks, you know?"
It's a strange little world the two of you inhabit. On the surface, it's the relationship of a graduate student to her thesis advisor: a mutually respectful relationship based on academic mentorship and intellectual discourse. Under the surface, it's the sort of thing that gets both of you expelled: the sort of relationship that's built on her need for you to see her get off in front of her webcam and your need for her to keep uploading videos.
But as you look at her now, you think about what she's doing. She's a twenty-something grad student who gets her rocks off by playing with herself on camera for thousands of strangers on the internet. It makes her hot. It makes her cum. And you're only too happy to be there for her. It makes you hot, it makes you cum, and there's a bit of you that feels a sense of pride knowing that even though the whole world gets to see what her face looks like when she climaxes, only you have managed to fuck her to one.
"Don't get me wrong, Yiren. It was hot. I'm sure everyone got off to it."
There's a slight cockiness to her smirk—she already knew it to be true. "And you?"
"Do you really need to ask every time?" you reply.
"Mm. Yes," she leans back on the chair in front of your desk and raises one leg over the armrest. "I like to know that you liked what I put out."
You don't miss a beat, and the words come out as casually as if you were critiquing an assignment: "I jerked myself raw, Yiren."
"I'm glad," her fingers are tracing little lines down the inside of her thighs. You lean in closer, elbows against the desk. "What part did it for you?"
"Yiren, I know what you're doing."
She starts to pull up the hem of her skirt while flashing you faux innocence with her blinking eyes. "What's that, Sir?"
"Seriously. We can't. Not here."
"I'm just showing you, Sir," her skirt is around her waist now. She's not even trying to hide her desire. Her pussy's wet. Glistening. "Looking for a little feedback. Was it my pussy? My fingers? How wet I was?"
You want to grab her, throw her onto the desk, and fuck her until the entire floor hears her scream. You want to feel your cock sink inside of her pussy, feel your skin slap against hers, feel the wetness of her desire as you thrust into her. But that would be the end of everything. "You're killing me here, Yiren."
"You know, people keep asking for more stuff with a guy. I could put it on pay-per-view, make a killing." She runs her fingers along her slit and you hear that soft little moan that's driven so many guys to bust on their keyboards. "What'd you think about that, Sir?"
You're starting to breathe hard. It doesn't matter that you've fucked this girl before. All you know is that you can't have her now. And she knows that drives you nuts.
Her finger's on her clit now and she's rubbing in circles. Her head tilts back slightly, her mouth parts, and you know she's going to cum right here if you let her go on. "Yiren," your voice is almost hoarse.
Her finger is a blur, and her voice is a half-moan, "Mm, Sir?"
"You're going to get us in trouble."
"I think I'm worth the trouble." Her chest's heaving. She's going to go off any second. "Sir," her eyes look straight at yours and there's something about that direct stare that sends a shiver through you, "Are you hard?"
You nod. There's not much else to do.
She takes her hands away from herself, leaving her pussy on the edge. You know that it's aching, throbbing. She bites her lip and stares at the growing bulge in your pants. "Maybe you can show me how you jerked yourself off the other day."
"Yiren. Fuck. Not here."
"Then where?" She snaps, clasping her legs closed and pushing her skirt back over them, "You won't do anything in your office. You won't take me home. Where, then, huh? Maybe I should just go to the headmaster and tell her what you—"
She doesn't finish that sentence. Your hand is gripping her arm tightly as you yank her up off her seat, "Come with me."
You lead her down the hallway. She's struggling, but she's grinning too. She knows she's getting her way.
Your eyes dart from left to right. It's late and the chances of running into anyone is pretty low, but still, there's always the chance.
"Sir, what's the deal?" she's laughing now. "What's your plan?"
"I don't have one."
It doesn't matter. You've been in the same spot before with her. She's been begging for it, you can't do it in your office, and you need someplace quiet, someplace private, someplace where the two of you can be alone for a while.
You lead her to the parking lot and she realizes your plan. Her voice is almost mocking. "Sir, that's not exactly original, you know. A parking lot? Your car?"
"It'll do, Yiren." Your voice is firm, almost angry, and she's eating it up—you know what gets her going. "And maybe it's a bit clichéd, but we won't have any of these pesky problems of you being too loud and giving us away." You stop her at the passenger door to your sedan, lean her against the car and press yourself against her. "And trust me, you will be too loud, Yiren."
She grins up at you. She likes the sound of that. "What're we doing here, Sir? I thought you didn't want to fuck me anymore. Not after last time."
"I never said that." Your fingers run down her side and you feel the familiar thrill of touching her again, feeling her body under your fingers. "I said no more fucking in my office, Yiren," you slide your hand over her ass. "So we're here." You lean down and kiss her, and she moans as her body leans into you.
She pulls away from the kiss, panting, "But, Sir, you know what else I want." You feel her fingers reach down and run across the bulge in your pants, and her breath catches. "Mm. I want this. I want to film you, Sir. I want to film this."
It's a bad idea, you know. The riskiest of ideas. You can see her in your mind's eye: the way her face looks when she's cumming, when she's biting her lip to hold in the scream, the way her body shudders, and her eyes shut tight, the way that she gasps for air afterwards. You want her to be able to share that with the world, to get her off by getting the world off. "Fine."
"Seriously?" She looks at you in disbelief, but you've already opened the door and nudged her inside. She climbs in and crawls to the other end, tossing her purse in the front seat after she pulls out her phone. "It's not ideal but it'll have to work." You're on her in an instant, pulling her skirt up around her waist, pushing her down against the seats, kissing her, and sliding your fingers into her.
She squeals, then gasps, and then giggles as you thrust your fingers in and out of her pussy. "Mm, Sir," her moans are punctuated by each thrust of your fingers, "Fuck. Wait. I haven't even got my phone set up yet. Fuck. Wait."
You slow, just a little, just enough, then you concede and pull out. You know she wants it, needs it. You watch her hands shake as she rushes to set the phone up, she's got it in selfie mode and it's the best she can do.
"The lighting's all wrong, but who cares, right? They're here to watch you fuck me. They don't care about lighting." She's talking to herself as much as to you, but you know how she is. You know that she wants you to play along.
"Let's show them how pretty you are, Yiren." You pull out your fingers, then press your palms against her legs, pushing them apart and sliding in closer between them. You watch as she tries to hold the camera steady. Her breaths are shallow. "Show them what your pussy looks like." She turns the camera down and focuses it on her pussy. She spreads herself for the camera, showing her audience her soft pink pussy. She's so wet, you can't wait to feel her on your cock, feel that heat, that wetness, and that tightness.
"God," you groan. You've watched her videos so many times, but seeing it up close and in the flesh is always different. You run your fingers down the inside of her thigh until they brush her pussy lips, and you spread her wide. Her hips buck slightly and you watch the juices of her desire drip down the crack of her ass. You push your fingers into her, and you feel the warmth of her insides. She cries out, "Mmf! Oh god."
You take it slow. She's filming it all. You want this video to be hot. You pull out your fingers, then push them in, watching the wetness cling to them as you thrust them in and out of her pussy. "Fuck, Sir. Oh god." You curl your fingers up and press your fingertip against the spot you've learned to find. You feel the rough skin against your finger and you press into it. Her head tilts back, her eyes shut tight, and you watch as her body shudders. You push your finger harder against it, rub it, and her moans get louder.
You pull your fingers out, then push them in, slowly, rhythmically. She whines, but you don't give in. "Tell the audience how it feels, Yiren." You're teasing her now. She doesn't want you to go slow. You know she's aching for more.
"Feels so fucking good." She pants, holding the camera steady. "God, Sir. Don't stop."
"Why?"
"Mm." She whines, and you can hear that she's on the edge, "Feels so good, Sir. Your fingers feel so good in my pussy." You pull your fingers out of her, then press the palm of your hands against her thighs and spread her wider.
You take your time. Your fingers brush down the length of her pussy, from her clit down to the juices on her asshole, and you press against that tight little pucker. She gasps and you hear her moan. You press your fingers against her hole, feeling it tense and tighten against your fingers.
She lets out a sharp, shocked whine as you tease her asshole and you can't take it any longer. She knows just what you want. You lean down and press your lips against her clit, and you hear her squeal as you lick her clit. You suck her clit, tasting the juices that flow from her, and you feel her body tense up. She's so close. You pull yourself away from her and grin up at her.
She's panting hard, staring up at you. "God. I need you to fuck me." Her voice is a whine, a needy whine. You can hear her desperation.
"I know you do, Yiren," you reply, unbuckling your pants. You pull your cock free and stroke yourself a few times as she stares down at you. "I know how much you want this."
She nods, her mouth open and panting. "So much. God, please fuck me with that." You press your cockhead against her pussy, rubbing it between her lips. "Fuck, Sir, please. I love a big hard cock in my tight pussy."
You grin and whisper, "Tell them what you need, Yiren."
She looks right into the camera, "Please fuck me, Sir. I need you to fuck my pussy. I need to feel you stretch me wide. Fuck, Sir. Fuck me." She's begging and her breath is a desperate pant. "Please, I'm so wet. I want to cum with your cock inside of me. I need to."
You press yourself against her entrance, just enough to push her open, then you pull away and watch her cunt quiver at your touch. You can tell she wants to be taken, needs to be fucked hard and fast, and she knows you can give it to her.
You push your hips forward and thrust your cock into her, and you watch her pussy open and spread for you. "Fuck," she cries, her hands trembling, but you don't slow down. You thrust hard, pulling her hips into you, and you slam your cock deep into her.
"God, your pussy feels so good." Your fingers grip tight on her thighs, spreading her wide as you pound into her, and her cries fill the car.
She tries to keep the phone steady, filming you thrust into her. She can barely keep herself together. You can see the camera shaking, "In his fucking car. You hear that? He couldn't even wait to get me home. He needed to fuck me. He spends all day watching me in class, thinking all these dirty little thoughts about me, and then he just can't take it anymore and he fucks me right in the parking lot. And you know what? I'm gonna fucking cum because of him."
You're going hard and fast and she's so fucking tight. You can hear her moaning and groaning with every thrust, and her pussy is clenching around you. You can tell she's on the edge, her pussy is trembling around you, and she's screaming for more. You know that the video is probably a mess, a shaky, poorly framed mess of her tits shaking, her face pulling the dirtiest of expressions and her pussy getting fucked.
Her words are getting more erratic. She can barely keep it together, so you snatch it from her hand, record the way you thrust into her, how your balls slap against her cunt. She moans louder when you do and you realize she likes that you're the one recording her.
The camera pans up to her face. You want to see her cum. You want to film it. "Cum, Yiren." Your voice is loud and commanding. "Cum on my cock. Let them see you cum on your teacher's cock."
Her hands are above her head, grasping at the leather seats. Her back arches beneath you and her head is thrown back, pressing into the very same upholstery that her fingers do. Her hips shudder and you feel her insides squeeze around your shaft as she cries out, "Fuck!" The sound of your flesh slapping into her flesh fills the car, and she's a writhing, whimpering, cumming mess as you pound her through her orgasm.
You keep filming as you reach down, and with one hand, rip open the buttons of her shirt. Three of them come flying off, pinging around the car and leaving a lopsided mess of fabric and bra that exposes the flesh of one of her pert tits. It doesn't take long before your hand is gripping her breast, pinching at her nipple, tugging at her flesh as you keep pounding into her.
Yiren gets the message, pulling the rest open on her own and pulling down her bra, exposing both tits. Her fingers are on her own nipple, tugging at it and pinching. You watch the way she teases herself, the way her body reacts, and the way she's still shivering from her orgasm. She's a mess and you love seeing her that way.
If there's something painfully obvious from her videos, it's that one is never enough. So Yiren doesn't even need to ask, you're already guiding her onto her knees and then pushing her forward so her face is against the glass. "Show them your ass, Yiren."
You hold the camera in your hand and record the image of her reaching back and pulling her skirt over her hips, exposing her bare ass and pussy to you. You record as she reaches back and spreads her cheeks for the camera, letting her fingers pull apart her wet pussy and letting your audience see that tight, puckered asshole.
"Sir," you watch her face pressed against the window. Her breath leaves an opaque cloud against the cold glass, "How does my ass look?" You can't help it, your free hand comes crashing down against her skin and you watch it ripple under your palm. "Oh!"
You grin at her reaction, "You look like a naughty little girl who needs a good spanking."
"Oh, Sir," she moans, "What did I do?"
You slap her ass again, and again, watching it redden under your hand. "Such a naughty little girl. Making a mess in my office." You're slapping her again, watching her ass jiggle and turn pink.
Yiren whimpers, "I did. I was so naughty."
"What did you do, Yiren?"
"I was so fucking wet. I couldn't stop touching myself."
"Why were you wet?" You spank her again and you watch as her hips press back into you, "Tell your viewers what made you so wet that you needed to touch yourself."
"I needed you." Yiren's panting hard, her voice a needy moan, "God, I need you to fuck me. I was thinking about your cock. How good it felt when you fucked my pussy. I wanted you to fuck my pussy again."
You push her forward, letting her hands come down against the foggy glass. Her ass is up in the air and you're pressing your cock against her pussy. She's still wet from her cum and it takes no effort at all to thrust deep into her.
You're so deep in her wet folds. Her soft embrace is warm, tight, and you feel yourself slide deep inside of her, and you watch as her face twists and contorts in pleasure, in desire.
"Show them what they're doing to you, Yiren. Show them how they make you feel." You pull the phone up to her face, filming her moans, her cries, the faces she makes as you fuck her. "You like it when they watch, don't you? You like it when I fuck you like this and they have to watch."
She's panting, moaning, and nodding. Her hips press back into you as you pound into her and you watch her ass ripple and bounce with each thrust.
You reach around and grab her tie. She always wears it loose, but it's still enough to pull it up tight against her throat, pull her back into you. You wrap it twice around your hand and it yanks her up straight, her body against your chest. She's panting hard as her hands come up and try to claw at the tie around her throat.
She can't stop moaning, crying, and she can barely breathe, and you watch as she struggles to hold on, her head tilting back and resting on your shoulder. You film her as she struggles to hold it together. She can barely keep her eyes open and her voice comes out as a desperate, choked moan.
You let go of the tie, and it unravels in your hand. You watch her slump forward and her hands come down to the seat. Her face presses into the leather and she's whimpering. "You're such a good girl, Yiren." You press yourself deep inside her and grind your hips against hers, "Such a good girl for taking my cock."
She groans, "Thank you." She's still pushing back against you and her eyes are shut tight. "Thank you, Sir."
"Good girls get a treat, don't they?" You grin and you run your fingers against her asshole. "I bet you like a nice treat for being such a good girl."
Her breath hitches, and her eyes flutter, "Please, Sir."
You press your finger against her hole, and she pushes her ass back, and you feel her ass relax and open for your finger. Her tight asshole squeezes your finger tight and you hear her moan, and her pussy clenches your cock. "Fuck."
"Oh god, Sir," she moans. She's a needy, whining little mess, "Please cum in me."
Her words are like music to your ears. Her body is trembling under you, and she's moaning for you to cum. Her words are so desperate. She's begging, and you can't resist. Your hand is gripping her ass, with a finger slipped inside, and you pound into her, feeling her tight, wet cunt squeeze around you.
"Fuck, Sir, please," she begs. "Breed your favourite little student. Fill her up with your cum." She's crying out, her voice echoing inside the car.
Your hips shudder as you thrust deep into her and feel your balls clench, you can't take any more, and your cock is pulsing, throbbing, and your cum is filling her, flooding her insides, and her ass is trembling around your finger. Your chest is heaving, and your heart is pounding, and you can barely breathe. She's still pushing her ass back against your hand and her body is shivering with every pulse of cum that your cock pumps into her. You keep thrusting, feeling her pussy tighten and milk your cock.
When it's all over, you watch as she slowly pulls away from you, and you see the thick white seed drip from her hole and onto her thighs. She sits back on her knees and looks right into the camera. Her chest is flushed and heaving. Her hair's a mess, and her shirt's hanging open. Her makeup's running and there are tears on her cheek. But there's a satisfied look on her face.
She's grinning from ear to ear and you can't help but grin along with her. "That," she pants, still trying to catch her breath, "is how I get a good grade in class." Her words are followed with a giggle and then she leans forward and shuts off the camera. Her hand finds the back of your neck and she pulls you into a kiss. Her lips are hungry and her tongue presses into your mouth. Your hand wraps around her head, and your fingers get tangled in her hair as you pull her closer and deeper into you.
She pulls away, a smile on her face, and a twinkle in her eye, "You're a natural, you know. You really know what they want. Makes sense, you are one of them."
"Thanks." You laugh. You can't help but notice that her hand's between her legs, rubbing and stroking. She's unsatiable.
"Sir? Since I'm such a good student, does it mean you'll take me home and fuck me in your bed?"
934 notes · View notes
amiableness · 3 months ago
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hiii!
first, i’m loving this dad!james series its genuinely so heart fulfilling so thank you for taking time out of your day to write
now i’m not sure if this will spark any interest but maybe dad!james and r have been dating for a like a month but no one knows and then the whole gang (or just rem and sirius) come over and like James is like extra touchy with her which like he was before but more so now so they’re both kinda like ??? until james is like she’s my girlfriend
ily
Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 977 words
thank you sm babe! i love writing for you all! hope you like it <3
“Do they seem off to you?” Remus murmurs, his gaze following James as he heads into the kitchen. He had muttered something about helping you with the tea, but it wasn’t like you really needed the help.
The whole afternoon, Remus had noticed how James couldn’t keep his eyes off you, his gaze filled with that familiar, adoring warmth. That in itself wasn’t unusual—James had always looked at you that way. But what really caught Remus off guard was how openly you were returning those looks, your eyes just as soft, filled with the same affection. It wasn’t just the casual brush of his fingers against yours or his hand resting briefly on your lower back as you passed. It was also in the subtle, consistent touches—his knee brushing against yours under the table or the way his hand would linger on your arm during conversations.
You both appeared entirely and undeniably in love.
Sirius, however, is lost in his own world, meticulously taking apart one of Henry’s Lego sets just to rebuild it. “No,” he replies, not even looking up, his fingers expertly snapping the pieces back together. “Why? Did you notice something?”
“He hasn’t stopped touching her since we’ve got here.” Remus continues to stare at the doorway, as if expecting it to provide an answer somehow. The wall separating the kitchen from the living room blocks his view, but he can’t shake the feeling that something is different.
“He’s always like that with her.” Sirius says, focusing on a new Lego piece that refuses to snap into place. His frustration is clear as he twists and turns the piece, trying to make it fit.
“No,” Remus replies, shaking his head with a hint of uncertainty. “I’m sure I heard him call her ‘baby’ earlier.”
Sirius finally looks up, curiosity piqued by Remus’s tone. “When did you hear that?”
“When we first got here,” Remus says, his gaze distant as he recalls the moment. “James was talking to her in a more intimate way than usual.”
Sirius considers this, his frown softening slightly. “Oh, he probably did. He’s always calling her something sweet,” Sirius says with a casual shrug. “Lovesick is what he is.”
“He’s never called her ‘baby,’” Remus insists, his brow furrowing. “It’s different, I swear it.”
Sirius sighs and shakes his head, still engrossed in his Lego project. “We’ve thought that for years, and nothing’s ever really changed. Maybe this is just another nickname of his.”
Remus swears he hears you sigh James' name from the kitchen, light and airy, and before Sirius can react, Remus is on his feet, tugging at his shirt with a sense of urgency. Sirius starts to protest, a frown forming on his face, but Remus doesn’t bother with an explanation. “C’mon,” he insists, pulling him toward the kitchen without another word.
“Nothing’s different, Rem. They’re just—” Sirius’s words die in his throat as he catches sight of you both.
James has you perched on the edge of the counter, his body firmly nestled between your legs, the warmth of him pressing against you in all the right ways. One hand cradles your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he tilts your head just so, deepening the kiss. His other hand grips your hip, fingers curling into the soft flesh where your shirt has bunched up, his touch pulling a gasp from you. The kiss is slow, unhurried, every brush of his lips against yours filled with a lingering desire, like he’s savoring every second. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him closer, and the way your body arches into his, seeking more of him, makes it clear that neither of you wants to let go. The heat between you is palpable, each movement charged with a quiet intensity that speaks of just how much you want each other.
This is not the first time you’ve kissed clearly.
Remus clears his throat, a sound that cuts through the charged silence. You pull away from James, your breath coming in short, startled gasps. Your lips are swollen and pouty, still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. You clutch at James, reluctant to let go, as if the contact alone is grounding you.
James quickly tugs your shirt back into place, his hands lingering for a moment as he smooths out the fabric with a touch that’s both tender and possessive. His gaze flicks over to the boys, a mix of surprise and awkwardness crossing his face as he registers their stunned expressions. The heat in the room seems to intensify, the once-private moment now exposed under their watchful eyes.
“What the hell?” Sirius exclaims, his voice sharp with disbelief. “We’re out here building Legos—” 
“I wasn’t building—” Remus begins to protest, but Sirius cuts him off.
“—as we wait for our tea, and you two are in here snogging?”
“No, we weren’t sno—” You start to protest, but Remus and Sirius cut you off with pointed looks.
“When did this happen?” Sirius demands, clearly miffed. “Because that’s obviously not the first time you’ve kissed her.” His tone reflects his hurt that James, his best friend, hadn’t mentioned anything about this development.
James clears his throat, his face a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness. “About a month ago,” he admits.
“So you two are just messing around?” Remus asks, raising an eyebrow. James’s expression turns from defensive to offended, his brows knitting together.
“No, you prat! She’s my girlfriend.” James snaps, his voice tinged with frustration.
“Bloody hell, it only took you about eight years.” Remus retorts, a smirk playing on his lips. You let out a laugh, unable to help yourself at Remus’s quip.
Sirius, his annoyance settling, lets out an exaggerated sigh, “I expect another niece or nephew as compensation for making us all wait this long for you two to get together.”
please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌
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struwberrii · 5 months ago
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suna headcanons 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅
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here are my silly sunarin headcanons!! hope you guys likey
ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (also is mostly relationship stuff but not all)
has the craziest sleep schedule like he stays up all night, falls asleep at 5am, wakes up at 8 am and just goes to school fine
buys you snacks from the vending machines daily
teases you a lot but is really flirty about it
probably most active at night and invites you out when it’s dark, he just likes how much emptier everywhere is
has the best music taste and always puts you onto his music
nonchalant dread head of japan
would probably sneak into your house through your window just to see you
says the funniest things with the most deadpan expression which makes it 10x
if you dont reply to his messages fast enough he hits you with the "why do you hate me"
he’s too honest sometimes and has a bad habit of saying things that are rude when he really didn’t have to
randomly tackles you and play fights
bros the type to pick you up and jump into the pool with you
does the bare minimum with all his school work
starts talking like you and using your slang when you guys hang out long enough
he’s the guy people talk shit around bc they think he’s quiet and a loner but he’s lowkey a shit starter and shares what he hears
slacks/lazy in most things but he carries you guys in fortnite
his bed is covered in stuffed animals from you, even all the cute sanrio ones
ur his profile pic online
i feel like he’d use discord and get paid as a mod on some server 😭😭
calls you stupid as a term of endearment
he can always tell when something’s wrong, like he can sense if something’s off with you
probably wears a lot of sweat pants
always smells really woody and fresh (yk like generic men’s cologne idk 😭)
very touchy, loves having an arm around you waist :3
allergic to drinking water, ik his piss is acid (honestly same here….)
his sister loves you so much
lowkey the worst at soothing you/cheering you up so he just hugs you
let’s you do skincare on him, he thinks it’s relaxing
i feel like he’d own at least one of those stupid tiktok fidget toys that he swears works but everytime he uses it he can’t stop laughing thinking about how stupid he looks
has a bad diet only because he’s too lazy to actually cook
burps SO LOUD and SO OFTEN like hold it man
has a tiktok account that he rage baits people on and reads the comments to you pretending it wasn’t him who wrote them (smh)
tries to teach you volleyball so you guys can kinda play together
i feel like he’d know a lot about the stars and like the constellations
i also feel like he’d really like coke floats (ice cream + coke in a glass) a lot for some reason
acts like he doesn’t really care but he cares so much
he’s only vulnerable and emotional with you
randomly attacks you with kisses
i feel like he'd know some really good unknown dessert spots all around town
i feel like hes an adidas guy
says out of pocket stuff on purpose with no reaction just to see you panic (he thinks its funny)
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dixons-sunshine · 8 months ago
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Hazelnut | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
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Summary: Daryl didn’t know exactly what he expected when his group settled into Alexandria—maybe some snobby, incompetent inhabitants who couldn’t stand their ground if something were to happen or people who would turn on him and his group at any given moment, but definitely not a little girl who basically attached herself to his hip. And he definitely didn’t expect to find himself drawn to the mother of that little girl.
Genre: Fluff, angst but not a lot.
Era: Alexandria, pre Saviour war. (Timeline is kinda wonky. Saviours kinda don’t exist in this? I don’t really know.)
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, child abandonment, mental abuse, mentions of drugs and alcohol, single parenthood, sexual content but not smut.
Word count: 8.1k.
A/n: This was such a cute idea that @louifaith had! I tried my best, but it honestly sucks. I’m not really happy with how this turned out, but I hope you like it! Also, definitely go check out @celtic-crossbow’s version! Pure perfection, honestly.
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“You have to lighten up, Daryl. How do you expect to make any friends with that ‘leave me alone’ attitude of yours?”
Daryl grumbled to himself as he continued tinkering with his crossbow. The hot late afternoon sun was relentlessly beating down on the community as its inhabitants continued about their tasks. Daryl had silently been observing everyone from the porch steps he was sitting on, enjoying the moment of solitude he had, but Carol had other ideas.
“Daryl,” Carol started, crossing her arms as she descended down the steps. She turned around to face Daryl, her voice stern. “It would do you good to socialize a bit.”
“I talked to Tobin when we finished up with the construction of the new walls yesterday,” Daryl replied nonchalantly, keeping his eyes focused on his crossbow instead of the stern woman in front of him.
“That doesn’t count. That’s work talk. I'm talking about actual socialising. Like, striking up a conversation with someone that isn’t in our group or someone you have to talk to for work.”
“I dun’ need to. Y’all are the only company I need. Ain’t gon’ waste my time tryna make buddies with people who dun’ even like me,” Daryl responded with a sense of finality, gripping his crossbow and getting up. “Now get off my back, woman.”
“Where are you going?” Carol called after him, watching the archer walk away from the house.
“Somewhere,” he replied shortly, ending the conversation effectively.
Slightly irritated, Daryl walked with no particular destination in mind. He passed by some people who sent him friendly greetings and small waves, which he returned half-heartedly. After a while of mindlessly walking about, Daryl stopped in front of a makeshift park of sorts. It was a small area surrounded by grass and had a big tree towards the edge. He moved to sit on the grass underneath the shade of the tree. The few kids in the community loved to play in this area, but it was deserted for now; the perfect place for the archer to relax for a while.
Daryl went about sharpening his knife for a while. The mediocre task kept his mind busy, busy enough to ignore the parents and kids who arrived, busy enough to ignore the wary stares the parents threw his way. Daryl simply shook his head—even after two months, there were still people who were wary of him and the rest of his group. Even after everything they did and sacrificed to ensure the community's safety.
“Mistah lonely?”
Startled, Daryl’s head shot up and his eyes locked with those of a little girl who looked no older than three years old. The girl looked at him with curiosity written all over her young face, eyeing the knife in the archer’s hands with wonder. She tentatively reached forward to touch the knife, her fingertips close to making contact with the cold metal of the dangerous weapon.
Daryl jerked the knife away and out of reach of the young girl. “Dun’ touch that,” he barked coldly, standing up to keep the knife out of the young girl’s reach.
“Sharp mife?” the girl questioned, moving closer towards the archer. She reached up to grab his arm, trying to reach the knife.
Daryl frowned at the girl. He gently pried his arm away from the girl’s grasp and took a step back, unnerved by the soft touch of the child’s hands. That didn't seem to deter the girl, however.
“Mistah use sharp mife?”
“Scram, kid. Go back to yer mama.”
“Mama?” the girl asked, her eyes lighting up at the mere mention of her mother. “Mama! Get Mama!”
“What? No, that ain’t—” Daryl started, but was abruptly cut off when the girl took off and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, wobbling more like a penguin than anything else. Daryl raised his eyebrows as he watched the girl’s retreating figure, confused by the interaction he just had.
Well, he thought, at least that’s the end of that. However, as Daryl gathered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, he inwardly groaned at the sound of the little girl’s voice calling out to him.
“Mistah! Mama here!”
Daryl turned and looked at two approaching figures. The young girl was holding a woman’s hand, leading the woman over to him. The woman was laughing lightly, allowing herself to be pulled by the little girl.
“Come, Mama!” the little girl giggled, excitedly tugging your hand harder.
“Okay, okay! No need to rip my hand off,” you laughed, soon coming to a stop in front of Daryl.
Daryl looked at you with a frown, scowling slightly. His eyes darted between the excited little girl and you, slightly taken aback by the friendliness you radiated. Despite everything he had done for the community up until that point, only a few select Alexandrians—mainly Aaron and Eric—didn’t show him any contempt or wariness. Yet there you were, smiling up at him and looking as pretty as a picture.
“Mama,” the little girl excitedly told him, pointing up to you. She smiled at you, dimples forming on her chubby cheeks.
Well, the kid certainly knew how to follow orders. He had told her to go get her mama, and there you were.
“I'm Y/N. You must be Daryl?” You introduced yourself, extending your hand for a handshake.
Daryl looked at your hand, not moving to take it. However, just as you were about to lower your hand awkwardly at his dismissal, the little girl stepped forward.
“Like this, mistah,” she instructed, taking the archer’s hand and putting it in yours.
Daryl flinched at the contact and quickly withdrew his hand, looking at the little girl with a small frown. He looked back at you, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.
This was the worst random social situation he’d ever been in.
“Sorry,” you apologized, giving him a sheepish smile before turning back to your daughter. “Hazel, we don’t touch people unless they say we can, alright?”
“Sorry, Mama,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly, not fully understanding what you were saying. She turned back to look at Daryl. “Sorry, Dar.”
“Daryl,” the archer corrected her with a gruff tone of voice, talking for the first time since you had approached him.
Hazel looked up at him in confusion. “Dar,” she repeated herself, a look of concentration on her face.
“No, ‘s—nevermind. Forget it,” Daryl grumbled, shifting his weight from his one leg to the other. He looked back to you again and noticed how awkward you looked, your lips pursed as you avoided his eyes.
“Sorry. She has trouble with pronouncing some words and names. I’m working on helping her with that,” you explained, your body language exuding a challenging aura, as if daring him to insult your daughter for something as miniscule as not being able to pronounce a name.
Daryl noticed the defensive tone in your voice and noticed your defensive stature, making him raise his eyebrows questioningly, yet he refrained from questioning why. “S’alrigh’,” he mumbled, awkwardly fiddling with his crossbow that was slung over his shoulder.
“Okay,” you said, gathering Hazel up into your arms. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but I have to get going. I have to get this gremlin ready for dinner. Sorry for bothering you.”
With that, you turned around and retreated back towards the houses, Hazel happily babbling in your arms. Daryl watched your retreating figure with a sense of uneasiness. In that short interaction, he found himself unexplainably drawn to you. He didn't know you, but some part of him wanted to get to know you.
However, as quickly as that thought entered his mind, he just as quickly disregarded it. He didn’t need to get attached to any more people, especially people who couldn’t protect themselves in this harsh world they were forced to live in. In the end, everyone he cared about died or left, so it was better to spare himself the inevitable pain and keep you and your daughter at an arm’s length.
Something told him that it would be easier said than done, however.
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The next morning, Daryl found himself working alongside Aaron. The two of them were busy carrying large pieces of metal to the wall they were busy fortifying, Aaron making casual small talk while Daryl simply hummed in acknowledgement. Once the last piece of metal was added to the already existing pile, the two men wiped the sweat from their foreheads and took a drink of water, before walking over to Aaron’s house. Aaron took a seat on the porch steps while Daryl remained standing on the grass.
“So yeah, that’s how I met Eric,” Aaron told him, concluding his long and winded tale.
“Story straight out a damn romance novel,” Daryl replied sarcastically, eliciting a laugh from Aaron.
“Yeah, yeah. Make fun of it all you want. Everyone always does.”
“Nah, s’a good story. Pretty cliche with the whole spillin’ yer coffee on his shirt bit, but s’still a good story,” Daryl reassured him. “Now c’mon, didn’t ya say somethin’ ‘bout havin’ a part for my bike?”
“Dar!”
As if materializing out of thin air, Hazel excitedly bounded down the porch steps of Aaron’s home and threw herself against Daryl, clinging to his leg in a hug. Caught off guard, Daryl stumbled a bit but quickly regained his footing, his eyes darting down to look at Hazel. His eyebrows raised in surprise before he gently pried the girl from his legs, not used to any kid other than his little Asskicker clinging to him like that.
“Kid, what are ya doin’?” he questioned, taking a step back from her, but it was to no avail. Hazel simply smiled up at him before throwing herself at him again, clinging to his leg like a koala bear.
Aaron chuckled. “I see you’ve met Hazel. She’s quite the character, huh?”
“What’s she even doin’ here?”
“Eric asked to babysit her. He loves having her over, and her mom said yes.”
Hazel giggled against Daryl’s leg, turning her head to look at Aaron. “Hi, Rin!”
“Hey, Hazel,” Aaron chuckled fondly, sending the girl a small wave.
“Rin?” Daryl questioned, placing one of his big hands on the little girl’s head, accepting his fate of being clung to for the time being.
“She can’t say my name properly,” Aaron explained. “She has trouble with pronouncing things sometimes.”
“Yeah, her mama said somethin’ ‘bout that,” Daryl said without really thinking about it.
“So you’ve met her?” Aaron asked, leaning forward with slight interest. He had a small smirk on his face, one that Daryl couldn’t quite decipher.
“Briefly. Hazel practically dragged her over to meet me yesterday,” Daryl replied, looking down at Hazel when he felt her grip loosen on his leg.
Hazel looked up at him and raised her arms, looking at him expectantly. “Upsies,” she said, jumping slightly on her toes. “Dar, upsies!”
To his complete and utter surprise, Daryl found himself leaning down to pick her up. The act hadn’t even fully registered in his brain until the small girl was already in his arms, her small, chubby hands gripping at his shirt as she giggled. The small sound of her laughter made the archer’s heart fill with a sudden and unexpected fondness, completely taking him by surprise. It was the same type of fondness that filled his heart whenever he coaxed a laugh from little Judith, and yet it was completely different at the same time. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
“She seems to like you, Daryl,” Aaron laughed, standing up from his position on the porch steps. “Not a lot of people can say that about her.”
“What do ya mean?” Daryl found himself questioning, confused entirely by the man’s revelation. From the limited interactions that the archer has had with the young girl up until that point, he naturally assumed that Hazel was that way with everyone. What would make him special enough to the little girl, who had just met him, to make her treat him differently than she would others?
Aaron motioned for Daryl to follow him into the house, and he obliged, silently entering the pristine house while still carrying Hazel in his arms. The girl took a great interest in his hair, playing with it to entertain herself.
“From what Y/N told us, she was with a group before she got here who treated her and Hazel horribly, and Hazel hasn’t fully regained her trust in adults yet,” Aaron explained.
Daryl frowned. “Badly, how?”
“She wouldn’t say, but it took forever for Eric and I to gain Hazel’s trust. We even tried to bribe her with candy but she wouldn’t budge. But she seems to trust you and you said you only met her yesterday?”
“Yeah. She approached me at that makeshift park the kids play at,” Daryl nodded, rubbing a hand over Hazel’s small back subconsciously, shifting her in his arms slightly.
“Then you’re definitely special, buddy. This kid doesn’t trust easily,” Aaron declared, sitting down on a chair in the dining room.
Daryl followed his lead, taking a seat across from him on a chair while still holding the small girl firmly in his arms. Hazel’s attention shifted from his hair to the loose threads on his sleeveless shirt, playing with them to keep herself occupied.
“They were with a group ‘fore this? How long have they been here?” Daryl questioned, interested in knowing more about you, although he didn’t know why.
“Yeah. Hazel and her mom haven’t been here all that long. I actually found them a couple of days, maybe a week, before I found you all. From what I know, Y/N and Hazel had been on their own for a while before I found them. Y/N almost killed me the first time we met. She thought I was gonna hurt them. It took me and Eric a while to convince her to come back with us, but even then she refused to let her guard down. She was kind of like Rick when we first met, except she didn't tie me up or force me to eat apple sauce.”
Daryl hummed, hissing slightly when he felt Hazel tug at his hair rather harshly. He brought one of his hands up to pry her hand away from his hair, subconsciously rubbing his thumb over her small fist. “That hurts,” he told her softly, surprising himself by the gentleness of his usually gruff voice.
“Sorry, Dar,” Hazel apologized half-heartedly. She yawned before laying her head down on his shoulder. She wrapped her small arms around his neck, nuzzling her head into the crook between his neck and shoulder.
Daryl felt his heart swell with fondness for the second time that day. He gently rubbed her back. From his experience with Judith, that small action could lull a small child into slumber, and he hoped that proved to be correct with Hazel.
“You’re good at that,” Aaron commented, a smile on his face as he watched that small interaction between the big, ‘scary’ man and the small, innocent child.
Daryl looked at him, confused by the look the man was sending him. “Good at what?” he inquired, genuinely curious.
“That,” Aaron repeated himself, motioning to Hazel. “Were you a dad before all of this?”
Daryl stiffened at the question. “Nah,” he shook his head, adjusting Hazel in his arms again. “Not the type’a guy who could’ve started a family back then.”
“And now?” Aaron asked, unaware of Daryl’s inner turmoil.
Daryl inhaled sharply. “To start a family, ya need a partner,” Daryl started, slightly rocking the small girl in his arms. “I ain’t got a partner, and there ain’t exactly women linin’ up to be with me, so kids ain’t somethin’ I see in my future.”
“It could still happen, you know? You might meet someone. Hell, you know what? I know you’ll meet someone.”
“A lot of confidence for somethin’ that most likely won’t ever happen,” Daryl grumbled.
“Never say never, Daryl,” Aaron replied, giving the man a small smirk. “Never say never.”
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“Mama! Mama!” Hazel called through the house, excitement evident in her voice.
You smiled at the sound of your daughter’s voice, glad to be able to see her again after a whole day of being alone in your small house. The sun was setting, the stars starting to twinkle in the sky and you were almost done with dinner. Eric had told you that he would bring Hazel back before sunset and you were starting to get worried, but thankfully she seemed to be okay.
You walked into the living room and hunched down to pick up the small girl that ran into your arms, hugging her tightly to you as you placed kisses all over her face. She giggled at the sensation and pulled back, grabbing your hand and excitedly pointing towards the door.
“Mama, Dar here,” she said, smiling widely before turning towards the door.
You followed her line of sight and locked eyes with the archer. You stood up and gave him an awkward smile, painfully aware of the awkward encounter you had with the man the day before. Daryl seemed to mirror your unease; he nervously shifted his weight from one leg to the other, ducking his head to avoid your gaze.
“I see that, Sweetheart,” you replied, keeping your eyes locked on the man before you.
“I played with Rin and Eric. Dar played too!” Hazel happily exclaimed, clapping her hands together in excitement as she looked up at Daryl in awe.
“Did he, now?” you asked rhetorically, marvelling at the sudden and unexpected change of character for the quiet man. Just the day before, he had shrugged Hazel off and seemed to want nothing to do with her, yet now your daughter was claiming that the huntsman had spent time with her that day. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever.
“Yeah! So fun!” Hazel laughed happily, waddling over to Daryl to seemingly hug his leg again.
Daryl, who had been hugged multiple times by the toddler that day, instinctively crouched down to have her hug his side instead of his leg. Hazel wrapped her small arms around him and nuzzled her head into his neck, and Daryl couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face. One day had been more than enough for him to grow fond of the small girl, and he cursed himself for letting his guard down enough for that to happen, but the damage was already done; that little girl had already wormed her way into his heart.
“I'm glad you enjoyed yourself,” you smiled at her, watching the interaction between the archer and your baby girl. “Baby, why don't you go get changed into your blue PJ’s, huh? You're a big girl now, right? Think you can get changed without Mama’s help?”
“Yeah!” she exclaimed happily, pulling away from the hug and giving Daryl a smile, dimples on full display. “Bye, Dar!”
“Bye, Hazel,” Daryl greeted her quietly, watching the girl waddle to the stairs and begin to climb them carefully. He then hesitantly shifted his attention to you, but instead of seeing that wariness he’d grown accustomed to other parents giving him, one that he expected you to give him after his encounter with you the day before, there was a look of curiosity and wonder in your eyes.
“Thanks for bringing her home,” you thanked him, offering the archer a small smile.
Daryl ducked his head. “Ain’t nothin’,” he replied, shaking his head.
“So, you spent the day with her?” you started, looking at him questioningly. “By the way you looked uncomfortable around her yesterday, I figured you’d avoid her at all costs.”
“I was spendin’ the day helpin’ Aaron. He invited me to his place ‘cause he had a part I needed for my bike and Hazel was there. She wouldn’t let go of me after she saw me,” Daryl explained, fiddling with his hands.
“So she basically forced you into spending time with her?” you asked with a small laugh, your eyes crinkling in amusement.
“Pretty much,” Daryl joked, his lips involuntarily twitching into a small smile.
You laughed lightly and Daryl chuckled softly, admiring the way your eyes seemingly sparkled. The dim light of the living room gave you a golden glow, and Daryl found himself admiring your beauty. The unnerving thought struck him at full force and he tried to shake that thought from his mind—he couldn’t let his mind go there. He wouldn’t let his mind go there. He had to keep you at an arm’s length. It was bad enough that Hazel had broke through his barrier in one measly day, so he couldn’t allow her mom to do the same, too. More attachments definitely wasn’t something the archer needed.
“Well, Hazel seems happy. I think you’ve just became her best friend, whether you like it or not,” you told him playfully.
“I have a feeling that I ain’t got much say in the matter.
“Nope,” you laughed. “But thank you. She hasn’t looked that happy in a long time.”
“Glad I could help,” Daryl replied, a small smile on his face. “Sorry for bein’ a dick yesterday.”
“It’s fine. We shouldn't have bothered you.”
“Ya weren’t botherin’ me. I jus’... Weren’t in a good mood, s’all. M’sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” You gave him a sweet smile before turning around. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Daryl frowned in confusion but didn’t say anything. A few minutes passed until you reentered the living room, a lunchbox in your hand. You promptly handed it to him, and Daryl could feel the heat radiating off the bottom.
“What’s this?” he asked, giving you a questioning look.
“Stew. I made more than Hazel and I can finish, so I figured I’d give you some. And before you say anything, just take it. Consider it a thank you gift.”
Daryl pursed his lips but nodded, resisting the urge to deny your ‘gift’. “Thanks.”
“No problem at all,” you reassured him, looking up at him with a smile that made his heart flutter uncontrollably.
Daryl ducked his head, willing the blush on his face to go away. “I should get goin’,” he mumbled, avoiding your eyes.
“I’ll walk you out,” you replied, making good of your promise by walking with him over to the door.
Daryl stepped out of your home and turned to you. He gave you a nod and turned to walk away, but stopped when he heard you speak up.
“I hope you realize that she isn’t gonna let you off the hook. You’re going to be stuck with her now. And my daughter and I are a package deal, so you’re going to be stuck with me, too.”
For some unknown reason, Daryl didn’t mind that thought at all.
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“Easy, Hazelnut. Ya dun’ wanna hurt yerself, do ya?”
The toddler giggled, her small hands toying with the arrow in her hands. “Sorry, Dar.”
Daryl smiled at the small girl, bringing one of his hands up to ruffle her hair, successfully coaxing another laugh from her. “I know ya are. Jus’ try to be more careful, alright? I dun’ want ya gettin’ hurt.”
“No boo-boos. Boo-boos hurt,” Hazel replied, gingerly handing the arrow back to the archer.
“They do,” Daryl agreed, taking the arrow from the girl. “That’s why ya gotta be careful, alright? Dun’ want anythin’ to happen to someone as sweet as ya, Hazelnut.”
Hazel giggled and nodded. “No boo-boos.”
“No boo-boos,” Daryl repeated, smiling fondly at the young girl.
Two months had passed since Daryl had initially met you and Hazel. In those two months, Daryl had found himself becoming intertwined with your lives, a constant presence for you and your daughter.
The archer hadn’t asked you what had happened to Hazel’s father yet, and he wondered when he could be permitted to ask something as personal as that. However, Daryl knew that there could only be two plausible explanations; either he was dead, or he willingly left. The huntsman really hoped it wasn’t the latter. No person should be left to raise a kid on their own.
However, as Daryl’s love for the young girl grew, so did his feelings for you. It got to the point where he had started wishing that he was Hazel’s dad, that he could’ve been there during your pregnancy and watched your belly grow. He would’ve worshipped your body and been there for you every step of the way. However, as much as he wanted that, that was a dream that couldn’t be a reality, so he settled on being Hazel's best friend instead. At least it meant being able to both bond with the little girl and simultaneously have an excuse to see you.
“The two of you look like you’re having fun. Mind if I join?”
Daryl’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice. His eyes met yours and his heart skipped a beat, that sweet smile of yours making butterflies swarm around in his stomach.
“Mama!” Hazel exclaimed happily, hurrying down the porch steps to fling herself into your arms.
You laughed, picking her up and placing a kiss on her forehead. You looked at Daryl and sent him a smile. “Hey, Daryl.”
“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, fiddling with the arrow in his hands.
“Mama, play with us!” Hazel giggled, wiggling in your arms to be put down.
You lowered her to the ground, watching her climb up the porch steps and clamber into Daryl’s lap. Daryl lowered the arrow and wrapped his arms around her, placing a small kiss to the side of her head. You smiled at the interaction, your heart speeding up against your will.
“I know what I just said, but I actually can’t, Baby. It’s time to go home. It’s dinner time,” you told her.
Hazel frowned and nuzzled her head into Daryl’s neck, a whimper building up in her throat. Instinctively, Daryl started rocking her back and forth, rubbing her small back and shushing her quietly.
“S’alright, dun’ cry. Ya will see me again tomorrow, alright?” he whispered into her ear, his heart breaking at the sound of her sniffles. When he felt her nod, he placed one final kiss to the side of her head before placing her back down. “Why dun’ ya go say bye to Jude?”
Hazel looked at you expectantly, and you nodded. “Go ahead, Baby. I’ll wait for you.”
Hazel ran into the house, leaving you and Daryl alone on the porch. The archer stood up and walked down to meet you on the grass, pushing his hands into his pockets as he looked at you through his hair. As you looked at him, it took all of your willpower to resist the urge to brush his hair out of his face and cup his cheek. Not trusting your own hands, you crossed your arms and looked up at the huntsman, giving him a small smile.
“This is the first time ya’ve come to pick her up. I usually bring her home. S’somethin’ wrong?” Daryl inquired, searching your eyes for an answer.
You shook your head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I just figured that I could come pick her up for a change. Spare you the walk back to my place.”
“It ain’t that far,” Daryl pointed out, motioning down the street. “Jus’ a couple’a houses down.”
“Yeah, I know, but...” you trailed off, unsure if you should lay your problems onto him.
“But what?” he questioned, suddenly on edge. Had you changed your mind about him? About him being around you and your daughter? He really hoped not.
You hesitated for a moment. “It’s nothing. Just some moms around the community who like to be judgy.”
“What are they sayin’?”
“That I'm a bad mom for not taking the time out of my day to pick up my own daughter. That I’m dumping my responsibilities onto other people. Just thought I’d start proving them wrong.”
“Hey, yer not a bad mom. I like bringin’ Hazel home at the end of the day. That way I know she’s safe.” He also liked it because it meant he got to see you being all domestic, hugging your daughter tightly and sending him beautiful smiles, inviting him to stay for dinner each time. He always declined, not wanting to be a burden, but your offer never waned.
You smiled at him, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Daryl instantly noticed it and placed one of his hands on your shoulder, taking you by surprise. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and your skin flushed where he touched you.
“Dun’ let ‘em convince ya that yer a bad mom. I ain’t never seen a better mom than ya. How many moms here can say that they kept their kid alive out there in the real world? That, despite everythin’, their kid came first and that they would kill for them?”
“How did you know I wasn’t here from the start?”
“Aaron told me he that found ya and Hazel on yer own not too long before he found us. The fact that ya kept her alive on yer own for that long proves to me that yer the best fuckin’ mom under the sun.”
You smiled at him and placed your hand over his that was still resting on your shoulder. “Thank you,” you whispered.
“No problem,” he replied, holding eye contact with you. His hand lingered on your shoulder for longer than necessary, and he gazed deep into your eyes.
Your heart sped up and stopped beating at the same time, noticing a shift in the archer’s emotions. However, before either of you could do anything else, Daryl snapped out of it and withdrew his hand, taking a step back.
You cleared your throat and ducked your head, your face heating up. Luckily, Hazel ran out at that moment and bounded down the stairs, throwing herself into Daryl’s side and clinging to his leg.
“Bye, Dar!”
Daryl pressed Hazel tightly to him. “Bye, Hazelnut.”
Hazel unwound her arms from around him and moved over to you, extending her arms to be picked up. You did just that, holding her tightly to you. You turned to Daryl and offered him a small smile.
“You know, my offer still stands. You could join us for dinner.”
Daryl was about to decline your offer again, but Hazel cut him off.
“Yes! Please, Dar!”
In that moment, Daryl found that he wouldn’t be able to say no this time around. He just would’t be able to. He gave you both a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
You smiled broadly. “Great! Come on, then.”
“Dun’ I need to change?”
“No, you’re fine, don’t worry. You can come as is.”
“Alright,” Daryl nodded. “Let’s go.”
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“Could you maybe get Hazel settled into her highchair? I’ll be right out with the food.”
Daryl nodded and watched you retreat from the dining room into the kitchen before turning around. “Hazelnut!” he called, hearing the toddler’s footsteps come into the dining room.
Hazel stared up at the archer with a huge smile, her arms extended to be picked up. Daryl smiled softly at the girl and leaned down to pick her up, placing her in her highchair. Once he was sure that she was settled and wouldn’t fall out, he got settled in the chair next to her, listening to Hazel’s happy babbling.
Soon enough, you reentered the dining room with a pot of spaghetti and meatballs. The aroma of the meal made Daryl’s mouth practically water. The last time he’d eaten spaghetti was when Aaron had invited him, and that was a good couple of months ago at that point.
“It smells fuckin’ good,” Daryl complimented you without really thinking about his choice of words, and he instantly regretted not thinking about them beforehand.
“Fuck,” Hazel repeated happily, completely oblivious to the horrified look that spread over Daryl’s face, or the amused one that spread over yours.
“Nah, Hazelnut, dun’ say that. Dun’ ever say that,” he told her hurriedly, his heart beating faster at his mistake.
“Fuck,” Hazel giggled.
“No, I jus’ said—” Daryl started, shooting you a worried look. However, he calmed down when he saw your amused smile. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” you told him, laughing lightly while serving everyone some food. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not gonna bite your head off because of one little slip up. If I had a penny for every time I accidentally slipped up since she was born, I would’ve had enough money to be able to buy a yacht in the old world. You’re good, don’t worry.
“Okay, but we can’t have her goin’ ‘round sayin’ that, though,” Daryl replied, taking a deep breath to calm himself. You weren’t mad. Everything was fine.
“You’re right about that,” you started, turning to look at Hazel. “Baby, you can’t say fuck, okay? That word belongs to Daryl. Until he’s ready to share that word, you can’t say it, alright?”
“Okay, Mama,” Hazel replied, starting to eat her food rather messily.
Daryl chuckled softly at the girl before turning to his own food. He started eating as well, the flavours of the delicious meal melting on his tongue. He wanted to gulp it all down but he resisted the urge, instead eating with a delicacy he never knew existed in him.
The meal was mostly spent in silence, save for Hazel’s happy babbling and the occasional input from you or Daryl. Daryl did, however, sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking, admiring your beauty and the soft, loving, tender way you acknowledged your daughter and the tenderness you used when you wiped her face clean of the sauce.
Unbeknownst to the archer, you had also been sneaking glances at him. Admiring his gentleness with your daughter, the way his eyes softened and the quiet chuckles he would let out whenever Hazel did something amusing, or the small smiles he would send in your direction. It was amazing how important Daryl had become to you and Hazel in a span of a few months. The big, gruff, quiet man with a heart of gold, who had invaded your thoughts and your heart. It was both terrifying and thrilling to think about.
Your respective meals were soon finished. and Hazel’s eyes were beginning to droop. You noticed it and got up to take her out of her highchair. She instantly laid her head down onto your shoulder and closed her eyes, and you placed a tender kiss on her forehead.
“You tired, Baby?” you cooed, rubbing her back gently. When she simply responded by nuzzling her face deeper into your shoulder, you laughed fondly and turned to Daryl, sending him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I should probably get this little rascal to bed. You can stay here. I’ll be right back.”
However, as soon as you said that, Hazel interjected. “Dar tuck me in with Mama?” she asked innocently, lifting her head up to look at Daryl.
Daryl looked surprised. He locked eyes with you, his heart fluttering at the smile you sent him.
“If Daryl’s okay with it,” you whispered, looking at him through your eyelashes.
“Yeah, ‘course,” Daryl replied, nodding his head.
You motioned for him to follow you upstairs, and he obliged. Together, the two of you descended up the stairs and into Hazel’s bedroom. Daryl stopped in the doorway, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but you had other ideas. You gently took his hand and led him into the room, only letting go of it to tuck your daughter into bed. Daryl subconsciously placed his hand on your shoulder instead, watching place your little girl into bed.
Hazel was already half asleep when you put her into her bed. She instantly curled up into her pillow and let out a big sigh, her eyes opening only slightly. In her view, she saw you, her mom, the woman who always protected her when the two of you were living on the road outside the walls, and always loved her despite her shenanigans. And Daryl, the man who at first had been kind of mean, but was now always there for both her and her mom. The man who undeniably had started to feel like a daddy to her.
“Night, Mama. Night, Daddy,” Hazel mumbled, her eyes closing and she drifted into slumber. In seconds, she was out cold.
Time froze for a moment. Daryl’s eyes widened and his heart practically pounded out of his chest. There was no way that he had heard it right. There was no way that Hazel had just called him dad. There was no way that Hazel trusted and loved him enough to see him as her father. She couldn’t, could she?
He turned to look at you and noticed the unreadable expression on your face. You didn’t address what she had just said, however, and Daryl was too nervous to bring it up himself.
“We should probably let her sleep,” you whispered to him, motioning towards the door.
“Yeah,” Daryl agreed and followed you out the door.
Together, the two of you descended down the stairs and back into the dining room. You turned to look at Daryl and motioned towards the living room.
“You can wait in the living room. I just wanna put the dishes in the sink and then I’ll join you.”
“Nah, let me help,” Daryl protested, moving over to grab all the dishes. Before you could protest, Daryl walked into the kitchen. You quickly followed behind him and watched him put the dishes in the sink, but before he could start washing them, you quickly stopped him.
“No, it’s okay. I’ll wash them tomorrow,” you assured him. “Do you want some wine?”
Daryl nodded and hummed, silently observing as you grabbed two glasses from the cabinet, as well as a bottle of wine. You placed the glasses on the counter before popping the the bottle open, pouring the two of you each a glass of wine. You handed him the glass and propped yourself onto the counter, letting your legs swing below you.
Daryl leaned against the counter and took a sip of his wine, humming in approval at the taste. “S’good. Thanks.”
“It’s nothing, really. I've been wanting a reason to open the bottle for a while now.”
“Ya can’t jus’ drink it whenever ya want?” Daryl questioned, taking another sip from the glass in his hand.
“I could, but I prefer not to. I don’t want to be like—” you started, but abruptly stopped. You hurriedly took a sip of your wine, welcoming the taste in your mouth.
“Like who?” Daryl asked, frowning at the uncomfortable look on your face.
You hesitated for a long moment, not sure if you should tell Daryl about your past problems. You were afraid that Daryl would look at you differently if you revealed anything. However, as you looked into his eyes, you only saw care and concern, so you found yourself confiding in him.
“Hazel’s father,” you revealed, pursing your lips at the thought of the man you hated more than anything in the world.
“What was he like?” Daryl asked, placing his glass down on the counter. He turned his full attention to you, his eyes trailing over your face for any shift in emotion.
“He was a fucking asshole,” you spat angrily, clenching your jaw in anger. “He was a raging alcoholic and a frequent drug user. He didn’t even stop when Hazel was born. If anything, it got worse. I tried so hard to get him sober, but nothing worked. He always yelled at me and threatened to hurt Hazel whenever I brought it up, but I stayed. I was too scared to leave. And then one day, when I woke up, he was just... Gone. No note, no phone call, nothing. Hazel was barely one year old.”
Daryl frowned deeply, anger bubbling inside him at the thought of someone hurting you and Hazel so badly. He clenched his fist and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He had no right to get angry. That wasn’t something that happened to him.
“Not too long after that, the world went to shit. His sister came to pick us up and took us to her camp, and that’s where I saw that asshole again. He treated Hazel so badly and got the other people in the camp to taunt and be mean to her. Hazel didn’t even do anything wrong, and I never even brought up the fact that she was his kid, but they all ganged up on her. Thankfully it never got physical, but I could tell that it really scarred her. It went on until the camp got overrun, and all of those fuckers got what they deserved. The only reason Hazel and I got out was because his sister helped us. She sacrificed herself for us. After that, Hazel and I were on our own for more than a year. I’m surprised that I managed to keep us alive for that long on my own, but I managed. And then Aaron and Eric found us, and the rest is history.”
Daryl was speechless. It angered him that someone would hurt you like that, would hurt little Hazel like that. And the fact that you had to survive on your own for that long... It amazed him. He wished that he could’ve found you earlier and have protected you and Hazel from all those horrors, but there was nothing he could do to change the past. He could only ensure that nothing ever touched you in the future.
“Yer a strong woman. The fact that ya went through all’a that and managed to keep Hazel alive and love her unconditionally proves that. Yer amazing and I hope ya know that.”
You were taken aback by the sudden confession, but a smile soon spread across your face. You hopped off the counter and stood in front of him, almost chest to chest. You looked up at him, your faces close enough to close the remaining distance between your lips. You didn’t even fully know why you did that. It was more than likely liquid courage, you figured.
“You’re amazing too. I don’t think you realize how much you mean to Hazel, how much you mean to me.”
With that, you closed the remaining distance between your lips. You pressed your lips against his softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. After a moment of shock, Daryl kissed you back feverishly, pulling you closer by your hips to have you flush against his body. You gasped against his lips, allowing Daryl to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into his mouth and pressed yourself harder against him, eliciting a groan from the man.
As soon as you pulled away for air, you tugged Daryl by the lapel of his vest. “Wanna take this to my room?” you whispered, breathless from the ravenous kiss.
“What ‘bout Hazelnut? Won’t she wake up?” Daryl asked, pressing his forehead against yours.
“No. She’s out cold. The chances of her waking up are basically nonexistent.”
Daryl let out a deep breath and nodded, allowing you to pull him up the stairs. The two of you soon stumbled into your room, hurriedly closing the door and pawing at each other’s clothes. However, when you reached for Daryl’s shirt, he stopped you, a pained look on his face.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, a worried look on your face. “Did I do something wrong?”
Daryl shook his head. “Nah, ya didn’t do nothin’.”
“Then what’s wrong?” you asked him, gently cupping his cheek in your hand. “Talk to me. I promise I won’t judge.”
Daryl inhaled sharply. “I didn’t have a good childhood,” was all he offered before slowly removing his shirt.
Your eyes hungrily trailed over his body, your hands reaching forward to press against his chest. Sure, a few scars littered his chest, but they didn’t repulse you. You didn’t understand what Daryl was talking about until you got a glimpse of his back in the mirror in your room. The scars on his back were jagged and raised, and you instantly knew what they meant; someone had hurt this perfect man before you, and you felt so angry.
You walked behind him. “May I?” you whispered, your hands hovering over his back.
Daryl hesitantly nodded. You softly ran your fingers over his scars, your touch feathery light. The archer shivered involuntarily, closing his eyes at the feeling. Before meeting you, the only feeling that he ever associated with his back was pain from his father’s cruelty, yet there you were, tracing over his scars as if they were priceless paintings in a museum.
Soon your fingers were replaced with your lips, and Daryl’s eyes flew open. Your lips softly kissed over his scars, trailing down to the lowest scars on his lower back. When you were done, you turned him around to face you. You gently cupped his cheek, a small smile on your face.
“You're perfect to me, Daryl. You’re so sweet, kind and caring. Hell, my daughter called you dad. That says plenty.”
“M’perfect?”
“You're perfect.”
That was all you had to say for Daryl to pull you into another fiery kiss. The two of you soon toppled onto your bed, spending a night filled with passion together.
That next morning when Hazel woke up and walked into your room, she was pleasantly surprised to find Daryl sleeping there, holding you, her mama. She was, however, confused that when she woke the two of you up, you clutched the sheets to your bodies and refused to let her climb under them with you like you normally would do.
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Two years later...
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Hazel. Happy birthday to you!”
You and Daryl cheered as Hazel blew out the candles on her homemade cake. Hazel laughed as she struggled to blow out the last one of the five candles on the cake, eliciting soft chuckles from you and Daryl. When she finally managed to extinguish it, you and Daryl each handed her a gift. She clapped her hands excitedly. She got up from her seat and ran to hug you and Daryl, which you both returned.
“Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Daddy,” she thanked with a big smile, eyeing the wrapped gifts on the table.
“Dun’ thank us yet, Hazelnut,” Daryl responded with a smile. “Go ahead and open ‘em.”
Hazel hurriedly opened each of the gifts and gasped with delight, holding up a colouring book, new crayons, and a new doll. She giggled in excitement at the gifts. “Can I go show these to Judith? We can colour and play dolls together now!”
You laughed and nodded. “Sure, Baby. Just be good for Auntie Michonne and Uncle Rick, okay?”
“Okay!” she agreed and took off in a run, throwing the front door open and disappearing out of it.
“I can’t believe she’s growin’ up so fast,” Daryl mumbled, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He rested his chin on the top of your head.
“I know, right? She’ll be moving away from home for college soon enough,” you joked.
“Hmm,” Daryl hummed, chuckling at your joke.
“Oh!” you exclaimed, turning around in the archer's arms. “I got something for you, too.”
“For me?” he asked in confusion, frowning slightly. “Why? It ain’t my birthday for another couple’a months.”
“I know, but this can’t wait that long. Here,” you told him, handing him a small box.
Daryl gingerly took the box from your hands and opened it. His eyes widened at the item inside, picking it up and looking at it. After examining it for a couple of moments, he confirmed that his mind indeed wasn’t playing a trick on him—it was a positive pregnancy test.
“Yer—Yer pregnant?” he asked, a smile spreading over his face.
“Yeah,” you confirmed, nodding your head. A laugh escaped you when Daryl picked you up and spun you around, before he placed you back on the ground and pulled you into a kiss.
When he pulled back, he leaned his forehead against yours. “Hazelnut’s gon’ have a baby sibling. We’re gon’ have another kid.”
“We are,” you agreed, closing your eyes. “I love you, Daryl.”
Daryl placed a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I love ya, too. And I already love that lil’ peanut in yer belly.”
“Hazelnut and Peanut, huh?”
“Yeah. Our two babies. Our own lil’ family,” Daryl told you wistfully, placing his hand on your stomach, over the life that was growing there.
“We have Hazel to thank for this. If she didn’t instantly like you back then, this might never have happened,” you told him, placing your hand over his.
“Remind me to thank her when she gets back later. But for now, let’s enjoy our alone time,” Daryl replied suggestively, tugging you with him as he walked backwards towards the stairs.
“I like that idea.”
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