#i just thought these two were cute and neat together

[danny-chase]

🔥

Taking your blog name into account, something I wish that hadn't been erased with Barbara (and ofc, this isn't like the main stuff, because that's obvs way more problematic, but I'm trying to narrow it down to less popular topics) is that she did have a very cute older sistery-ish vibe to Tim and i miss that relationship (Tim hanging out at the clocktower, them playing with the simulation room together, her helping throw him a surprise christmas party). Like ppl kinda get the idea that all batfam canon was dark and gloomy, and while yeah i was there for the dark and gloomy, i miss those little nuggets of cute moments and it felt like Barbara and Tim's interactions were one of those things that brought lightheartedness into the comics

[quarterlifekitty]

I just read the baby trapping HC’s… what if it was the reverse? reader baby trapping THEM

I think that depends entirely upon how cleverly you went about it! I’m gonna answer this with the assumption that they match your freak on the matter lmao

cw: dubcon, baby trapping

And as a preamble: it’s literally so easy for you. For any of them. Because quite honestly if they’re hard, and you say you’re on birth control, they’re gonna believe you. And really, most of them probably would’ve just assumed you were if you let them hit it raw. But we’re gonna say you lied about being on the pill for this ask.

Gaz is such a sweet guy. He’s literally just like “I’m happy if you’re happy, love” when you tell him the news. These things happen, and he has no reason not to believe you, right? What does it matter as long as you’re both happy?

Soap has his suspicions about it. But again, it’s not like he was really pressing you for reassurance that it was safe when he came inside you— when he gets like that, the dog in him takes over and there’s no stopping him. And maybe he’s not sure initially, to be honest, but then he thinks about a little bundle that has the same eyes as you, and he just can’t bring himself to be upset. Even if you are a liar.

Ghost, regardless of how he feels on the news, is going to investigate. He can’t help himself. Fucker is nosy. And you would’ve known this! So you’ve got it all set up for him to find. Water glass on your nightstand, the drawer just slightly ajar— not even enough to see inside, but enough to make him curious. He opens, sees the round of pills, and the timing all checks out. All taken right up until recently— when you tested positive. And you’re not careless to leave them in the trash. They were flushed. And from before that— you have drawer in the kitchen where you often shove the stray contents of your handbag. And there are receipts. A few months worth, from the pharmacy, with exactly what you bought. If you have a menstrual/symptom calendar app on your phone, it’s all logged. There are notifications in your reminder app telling you to refill your prescription. A number in your contacts that matches up with the doctor listed on the prescription. It’s the fact that it’s too neat that tips him off. Every piece of evidence he could’ve ever asked for is there, and that’s how he knows it isn’t natural. And it makes him smile. It’s touching— how much care you put into securing him in your life forever. Kid’ll be a terror, with the two of you as the parents. Too capable.

Price had a feeling in his gut when you told him you were on the pill. He thought about pulling out just to see how far you’d take things. In the end, finishing inside of you was like calling your bluff to him. He’d be fine with waiting a month or two to see if he was right. In the meantime, he’ll be looking at paint swatches for the nursery.

König is not looking a gift horse in the mouth. But if he does find out, he’s actually grateful. Saved him the trouble of asking you to have his baby, which was just one of a few questions wracking his nerves when it came to you. And this provides him the perfect opportunity to ask you to marry him! Doesn’t have to torture himself with sussing out your ring size, the kind you’d want, waiting for just the right moment. He asks you when you tell him you’re pregnant— it’s like everything is coming together. It’s a fairy tale ending for him!

Nikolai confronts you when you tell him that you’re pregnant. There’s a sly smile on his face. He teases a bit. Isn’t that just so strange? That you’d be unlucky enough for that tiny little chance of it failing was enough. And he has a way of making you squirm, of prodding you until you tell him what he wants. You can’t help but smile when he smiles, feeling a little giddy. He makes it seem all light and cute— so you do spill the truth. And he’ll pick you up and spin you as he laughs. His malyshka is so naughty, isn’t she? Lying to him like that, like he wouldn’t find out. Like wouldn’t give her a baby just as soon as she asked. Like he wasn’t planning on pulling a similar move in the near future.

[chososcutie]

“What'd You Do to the Eggnog?”

featuring osamu dazai

꒰ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ꒱

art credit: pinterest!!♡

꒰ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ─ ・┈ ☕︎ ⟡ ꒱

synopsis: after spiking dazai's eggnog with aphrodisiacs, things get a bit...heated

word count: 1.4k

tags: aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, dry-humping, needy!dazai, multiple rounds, overstimulation, mating press, cervix kissing, etc etc

kinkmas december 1st ☃︎⊹₊

・┈・╴⊹˚₊ 𓍢ִ໋⛾ ׂ 𓈒・┈・╴⊹˚₊ 𓍢ִ໋⛾ ׂ 𓈒・┈・╴⊹˚₊ 𓍢ִ໋⛾ ׂ 𓈒・

you knew you were in trouble the second dazai got through an entire glass. then, a second one. and he was currently halfway through his third.

you truly hadn’t meant for him to drink that much. it was supposed to be a fun little prank, one where you spiked his eggnog with aphrodisiacs, and got him all needy and flustered, before finally giving in, after teasing him relentlessly.

but, by the time you got back, he was already almost finished with the entire half gallon you made.

lifting the glass to his lips to finish off yet another glass.

"stop!" you raced over to snatch the cup away from him, causing a startled look to flash across his face.

"dazai, please don't tell me you drank all that."

“what? m'sorryyy it was so good! did you put something different in it? cinnamon?"

you swallow. “y-yeah sure. are you.. ah feeling.. alright?”

he furrows his eyebrows. "yeah? so when are we going to start decorating?"

oh right. you two were supposed to be decorating gingerbread cookies for the holidays. in all the excitement, you had forgotten, but now, with the hopeful thought that maybe the aphrodisiacs weren't as strong as you had thought, maybe it was going to be okay.

you had no idea how wrong you were.

"dazai, pass me the gumdrops."

he gives you the glass bowl filled with multi-colored, sugared drops, you quickly pressing them on to your shaped cookie.

"aww look how cute!" you gushed, adding a few last finishing touches with the frosting bag.

"phew, it's hot in here, baby." dazai fans himself, leaning over the counter as he adds candies to his own gingerbread man.

"yeah, i think it's from the oven." you distractedly pipe little swirls, not noticing when dazai's breathing gets heavier next to you.

suddenly, you accidentally squeeze too hard, causing frosting to spurt out in a clump, messing up the neat patterns you had created.

"fuck! 'samu, can you get me a paper towel?"

you should've known something was wrong the instant dazai was unusually quiet, simply turning around to do as you had asked.

but you were too busy fussing over the frosting covered cookies, frantically trying to swipe off the excess in hopes of saving them to notice.

so, when you felt the warmth of someone pressing up behind you, it startled you.

enough for you to almost drop the cookie you had been holding up, especially when that someone moaned breathily into your ear, subtly grinding against you.

"dazai?" you gasp, turning back slightly to face him.

he didn't like that, though, shoving you forward with enough force that it has you bracing your hands on the counter, mouth agape.

"fuck, m'sorry! jus'... stay still. please." the tone of his voice is whiney, and has you clenching your thighs together, already pulsing with need.

he ruts against you with an almost frantic kind of urgency, his bulge rubbing tantalizingly on your ass, as his palms come to cup your breasts, touching anywhere he can reach.

"i d-don't know why i feel like this," he gasps out. "i jus' feel hot all over an'..."

and then you can't do anything but whimper as he pushes you further, until your forehead touches the cool marble of the table, practically bending you in half.

"...you jus' look so good." his hips keep working against you, without any semblance of a pace, just rubbing himself on you as hard as he can.

"dazai.." you manage to groan out. "dazai, it's aphrodisiacs! i put aphrodisiacs in the eggnog, i didn't.. ah.. think they would work, or that you would.. hah.. drink so much."

he stiffens at your words, but doesn't halt his grinding. "oh, you naughty, naughty girl."

his words don't hold any actual malice in them, though, voice too ragged and needy for that.

"m'sorry! m'sorry!" you cry out, as his hips thrust into you harder, humping you vigorously, unable to stop himself.

"s'too late for that now. now..." he pants out. "you hafta help me with the.. ah.. problem you caused, sweets."

you squeal, as he lifts you up by the hips, thrusting your face and chest into the table roughly, already yanking down the thin, lacy panties you had on under your apron.

"samuuu..!" your face is pushed down further into the counter as he grunts above you, tugging down his own loose christmas pj pants, to press his throbbing boner against your bare pussy, slick already seeping out.

"c-can't wait.." he moans above you, hips already dragging languidly back and forth to smear his angry, leaking tip all over your cunt. "s'okay if i put it in now, doll?"

you can only whimper in reply, mouth muffled by the table you're shoved against, bucking your hips back into him as affirmation.

he groans at that, his pulsating cock already beginning to push in, stretching you out as he gets past the first tight ring of muscle, pussy greedily sucking him in for more, more.

when he finally manages to bottom out inside you, bulbous tip thrumming against your cervix, wet squelches are all you can hear as he starts an absolutely brutal pace.

"fuck! what did you put in that eggnog?" he gasps between thrusts, plowing into you so hard, you swear you can feel him all the way in your lungs.

you cry out in reply as he grabs the fat of your ass, pulling you into him harder until the harsh sound of skin slapping against skin echoes throughout the room.

"samu!" you wail. "slower! slower!"

"baby i can't!" he moans, though to his credit, he eases his hands up slightly, hips becoming sloppier with every thrust.

and you can feel your high approaching with every quickened breath you take, stomach coiling up into tight little knots as you clench harder around him, coaxing him to release.

"m'sorry... never felt like this.. ah... i n-need..." dazai's words are all slurred together, practically unintelligible in his rambling as he gets closer and closer.

and then he's cumming.

and you swear the aphrodisiacs had something to do with it, because as he fills you with spurt after spurt of hot, sticky seed, there's so much of it, it has you gasping, his cock releasing long pulses of white into your overstuffed cunt.

your walls spasm and clench around him, milking him for every last drop as your own eyes roll back in pleasure, the taut stiffness of your stomach finally letting go, your vision blurring with white, and thighs trembling.

and no sooner than a couple moments after you've come back down from your high, dazai's already spinning you around, and lifting you up by your plush thighs to fold you into a mean mating press.

you're almost dizzy as you feel the points of your knees pressing against your cushy tits, dazai barely giving you a moment to collect yourself before he's fucking into you raw at this new angle.

"one more.. m'sorry i jus' need o-one more."

"samu..!" you half-moan half-protest, clawing at him as your eyes roll back in your head.

"i know- i knowwww," he rocks his hips back and forth with desperate speed, head tilted back with flushed cheeks and sweaty, mussed-up hair curling to his forehead. "but can you blame me? it's.. hah.. y-your fault!"

you whimper, already feeling tears of overstimulation pricking at your vision, but at the same time, feeling desperately turned on by this side of dazai.

with a feral growl, he throws your legs over your shoulders, stretching you even further to take more of his weighty shaft. "n-need more.. more."

it seemed like he was trying to mold himself as close as possible into your snug cunt, huffing with exertion as he pounds into you with breath after ragged breath, chest practically laid flat against yours.

when he reaches that spot, the one that's soft and squishy and has your toes curling almost instantly, you can't even warn him.

you're cumming.

absolutely drenching him in your syrupy slick, gushing all over his throbbing cock, which in return, pumps out hot, oozing cum deep into you, voice breaking off into a whine.

you pant softly, exertion weighing your limbs down as the last few pulses of his creamy white ribbons spurt into you.

before you've even fully come back to yourself though, you feel dazai crawling up your body to mouth kisses along your neck, cock still fully erect and aching inside you. "o-one more? please?"

tagslist (ask to be tagged!): @urlocalfemcel-xx @ghostedwriting @amanoava @fluffyfrog1619 @chuuyaslittledoll @newnlovesjennie

[soobnny]

dating him | lee felix

❝ if you win this round, i’ll give you a kiss ❞

chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | han | FELIX | seungmin | jeongin

lee felix

the pda king that u are

sorry to get straight to the point but

he’s always touching u in some way 😭

obsessed i’m telling u

whether that’s a hand on ur back pocket, maybe ur intertwined hands in his hoodie pocket, his legs over urs on the couch

he just wants to be touching u all the time bc he is just a lovestruck boy at the end of the day

and there is no feeling more blissful than having you so close to him

i 100% stand by the idea that he would be so insufferable if circumstances were to separate u for a moment

would send u 91837473 texts

calls u too if u aren’t busy

most preferably facetime so he can see u

the boys end up gifting him a pillow with ur face on it bc he just would not shut up about missing u

he is also the saw this n thought of u texts

yes that’s why u receive a million texts

bc a million things remind him of u

he sees a spoon?

hey! u use a spoon too!

the weather is nice?

he has to tell you that! he knows u love when the weather is nice!

speaking of texts, good morning and good evening texts at the most abnormal hours

(sent at 3:24pm) good morning princess ❤️

(sent at 5:11pm) goodnight my love

moving on

u two actually dated bc of hyunjin

look i know felix is extremely good looking and handsome and could pull 92848 girls

but he is honestly just such a shy boy

“hi, felix lost his number. can u give him yours instead?”

“did u just hit on me for him?”

😭😭😭😭😭

TEARSSSSS like hyunjin is shameless

but whatever, it worked

sometimes felix sends him a gift too on ur anniversary bc it’s all thanks to him

one of his favorite memories of u two dating is when u taught him how to braid his hair

who knew it could be so convenient

and look THAT good too

u catch his hair braided while gaming when u surprise visit once

it isn’t as neat as it would’ve been if u were the one who did it

but u could recognize that technique anywhere

it’s the one u’d taught him noooooo 😭

love language: physical touch and baking sessions and teaching u to game

physical touch done

next up .. baking sessions

u could either make the best batch of brownies or almost burn the kitchen down bc u two were too busy making out

u’d also get into a mini food fight

would 100% put red icing on ur lips and blue on his and say u two should make purple

he thinks he’s so cool and smooth

who’s gonna tell him

he’s a LEWSERRRRR but your loser

felix just honestly is happy he gets to combine two of his favorites: baking and u

and then there’s him teaching u to game

he would be so patient with u

and if u were playing, he’d be by ur side the whole time and coaching u

he’d take videos and photos for sure

if he’s the one playing, best believe you’re on his lap if the game isn’t all that competitive

“boooooo! hyung!” — jeongin 2024

he says that bc while felix was communicating, he heard u

felix also strikes me as the type to build u a world in minecraft

he’d make you a cute little house with cherry blossoms around and a garden and a pet

and he calls you just to RAMBLE excitedly about it

man he’s just too cute what the hell 😭😭😭😭

his dates are actually kind of expensive

and his gifts too

he’d be like “no no no i swear it isn’t expensive”

and it’s a louis vitton necklace or smthn

u have so many cute dresses

he especially loves picnics with wine and fresh fruits and carefully made sandwiches in a basket

and FRUIT PICKING

he would love that so much

i think felix would also love if u helped him dye his hair

bc again .. he loves having u close

so i said changbin fails at legos right

felix is too good

he LOVES legos

he even buys u those flower ones

he would do anything to spend time w u

including legos

he particularly loves that it takes kind of a long time so u two would be together the whole time

anyways felix is honestly just such a sweetheart

very very very green flag behavior

he respects ur needs

listens to u without judgement

u have such a healthy relationship with his family

like his mom calls you

“hi! felix isn’t home rn”

“oh no no, i called to say hi to you”

oh they love you

gagged felix

u have dates with his sisters

and it confuses him too like

u would come over their house and he’d tell his family like oh! my gf is allergic to this!

his mom replies “i know”

LIKE WDYM YOU KNOW

felix couldn’t be any more happy anyway

it’s great

congratulations ❤️

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[hearts4skywalker]

cobra kai dating head canons

masterlist!!

summary: head canons for dating cobra kai characters!!

pairings: you and cobra kai characters (separate)

warnings: no pronouns specified, probs out of character but yk

a/n: new format!!

Miguel Diaz

- biggest golden retriever bf ever ‼️

- he's not SUPER big on pda

- holding pinkies or hugging is the most he'll do in public

- with the occasional kiss on the lips (its a little more than occasionally)

- he's a very private person 🤷‍♀️

- miguel's super big on slumbies

- he's a girls girl

- kisses your knuckles

- your his passenger princess when he gets a car

- hearing "hermosa" 24/7

Robby Keene

- i think he's a black cat a first, but will start to become a golden retriever

- he's a lot more pda than miguel, but not as bad as hawk

- hand holding, hand on your waist, kissing

- you made out in the cobra kai dojo a few times 😔🙏

- he really js uses your name (maybe a little too much...)

- will teach you how to skateboard ‼️

- he's a neat freak. after juvie, everything in his life has to be put together

- you go on family trips 🤭

- you two watched euphoria sunday's together

- denied being in love with you for the longest time until tory said something about it

Samantha LaRusso

- she LOVES playing with your hair

- movie dates are a constant ‼️

- like robby, she also rarely uses pet names

- is VERY quick to defend you

- she needs reassurance. i can picture you and tory being super close and she just needs you to tell her that nothing is going on between you too.

- she makes you those baskets for every occasion (boo, burr, etc.)

- like a good amount of pda, she'll hold your hand, kiss your cheek but thats about it

- my sweet girl thinks the bare minimum is love 😔

- she definitely sends you encouraging messages everyday

- chick flic queen 🙌

Hawk (Eli) Moskowitz

- PDA ‼️‼️

- hand on your waist (sometimes ur ass 👀) kissing you at all times

- he had a crush on you before he even became hawk

- got a tattoo for you

- he loves buying you stuff, it's his love language

- skips half of his classes just to see you 😭

- if you date long enough, he'll trust you enough to dye his hair

- going with that, you're the only person who has seen the hawk down and not covered in hair spray

- his closet is your closet (hear me out bc he has some cute clothes guys ‼️)

- he uses babe and baby, but thats about it yk?

Demetri Alexopoulos

- like sam, he also needs to be reassured 24/7

- he genuinely thought you were messing with him when you said yes to dating

- you guys have star wars / lord of the rings marathons once a month

- offers to do your homework for you

- if you have a hobby or sport besides karate, he makes it a point to be there for every practice and comp

- not surprisingly, he's like hawk. he'll make out with you anywhere, hold your hand, kiss you on the lips. i mean bro gives no fucks ‼️

- the first person he told when you two started dating was actually sam

- i think demetri is super considerate of your needs. like if you have a bad day, he just lays down and runs his fingers through your hair

- he's probably the best to date out of the whole show

- i think he just uses a nickname for you. he doesn't really like "baby" or "babe" or just any pet name

Tory Nichols

- black cat gf ‼️

- she's super big on communication

- dislikes pet names with a passion

- she also thinks the bare minimum is love (my poor girls ☹️)

- holds your hand and will kiss your cheek

- her brother absolutely loves you

- YOU ALSO WATCHED EUPHORIA SUNDAYS.

- bandaging any wounds she gets during training or in fights

- if you dated while her and sam were fighting 24/7, you've had to deescalate fights before

- kim da-eun and you have mad beef.

Anthony LaRusso

- not so secret secret nerd

- you two were bio partners and he had a crush on you the second you were nice to him

- you play with his hair while he plays video games

- he holds your hand and will MAYBE kiss you

- he needs that reassurance (maybe its a larusso thing)

- you are constantly arguing with daniel over how he treats ant

- you two watch movies 24/7

- always partnering up for everything (karate sparing, bio projects)

- anthony, you, and robby are an ICONIC trio

- you defend him and he defends you ‼️

- youre the only one who knows how much his dad upsets him

- over all just such a sweet boy who's gone through it

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

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@thatoneweirdgirl17

[pure-smut]

say red.

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: academic rivals to lovers, dom!Iwaizumi, rough s*x, degradation, dirty talk, creampie

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 2k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

You’d never paid attention to Iwaizumi Hajime. Just another face in the lecture hall, another voice answering questions, another serious guy with a serious face taking things so seriously.

It’s only when you’re paired together to work on a semester-long project that you pay attention to him for the first time. And wow – he’s fucking annoying.

“We need to meet up more than once every two weeks,” Iwaizumi tells you, frowning at your suggestion. “We won’t get enough done before the deadline.”

“It’ll be fiiiine,” you sigh. “The project barely contributes to our grade. All we need to do is pass.”

Iwaizumi narrows his olive eyes at you, entirely displeased.

“How are you,” he bites out. “… top of the class?”

You give him a sweet smile, throwing up a peace sign.

“Because I’m great, obviously.”

You had somewhat noticed that Iwaizumi’s name was always second below yours whenever test scores were published. It’s clear that’s a sticking point for him because he clenches his teeth so hard, you can see a muscle bouncing in his jaw.

“We’re meeting up twice a week,” Iwaizumi says, standing. When you open your mouth to protest, he gives you a hard look. “That’s final.”

You roll your eyes and shrug.

“Fine, fine.” A grin crawls across your face. “Iwa.”

He shoots you a disgusted look.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, Iwa? It’s cute.”

Iwaizumi pokes his tongue into his cheek and rolls his eyes skyward.

“Whatever.”

With that, he gathers his bag and stomps out of the lecture hall. Your gaze follows the back of him as he disappears, the smile only slipping off your face when he leaves.

“So annoying,” you mutter to yourself, packing up your own things.

But it’s only until the end the semester. You can grin and bear it that long. Plus, it’s like you said before – the project barely impacts your grades. Iwaizumi might want to force you into way too many boring meetings but you have absolutely no intention of cooperating.

*

Iwaizumi messages you his address and a time to come round to work on the project.

Gotta buy a girl dinner first before you invite her to your bedroom, you message him back. He ignores you.

Like most other students, he lives on campus with a few other roommates. You half-expect to see them when you arrive at Iwaizumi’s but he tells you he’s chosen a day when everyone else is out.

“I need some peace and quiet if I’m dealing with you,” Iwaizumi says.

“Flattered,” you reply.

His room is neat and tidy, a smattering of volleyball trophies on the shelves. You vaguely remember that he’s on the college volleyball team but you didn’t know he’s good enough to have trophies. You smooth your features into something neutral so he doesn’t know you’re impressed.

You both sit at his desk, where Iwaizumi’s already set up notepads, pens and sticky notes.

“You’re prepared,” you remark, eliciting a heavy sigh from Iwaizumi.

“I’m sure it seems that way to someone who doesn’t even bring a pencil to class.”

You swing side to side on his wheely chair as Iwaizumi launches into his plan for the project, talking you through the list of bullet points. You make noncommittal noises, your eyes drifting off.

He has kind of a nice face, you think, your gaze dropping from his short dark hair to his sharp jaw. Iwaizumi’s wearing a t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. Damn, he’s pretty built, too.

Iwaizumi continues talking as your mind wanders. You wonder if he’s a good kisser. Hmm, probably too serious for that. Only chaste tongueless kisses and missionary in the dark.

You grin at your own thoughts and Iwaizumi stops talking mid-sentence.

“What are you laughing at?” His brow furrows. “You’re not even fucking listening.”

“Uh, no, not really,” you admit, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“Jesus christ…” Iwaizumi puts his elbows on the desk, digging his palms into his eyes.

He wants to launch himself out of the window. How is it possible that you of all people beat him in class? He freezes when he feels your finger trail over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi looks up.

“You’re so tense,” you say. You’re not lying – Iwaizumi’s muscles are like boulders. You give his bicep a poke and realise there’s almost no give. “Maybe that’s why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“You’re just taking this too lightly,” he says, frowning.

You’re looking at him weirdly, your eyes locked onto his, and the way you’re touching his arm is making his cheeks feel warm. What the fuck is going on?

Iwaizumi’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and you smile, knowing you’ve got him. You stand up to move over and put yourself in Iwaizumi’s lap instead. His thighs are as hard as the rest of him and it feels like sitting in an actual chair. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re kind of cute, y’know,” you say, cocking your head.

“Kind of,” he echoes, giving you a flat look. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi’s hand rests on your thigh despite his unimpressed tone. You give him a sweet smile and trail a finger along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.

“Maybe you need some stress relief, hm?” you suggest, dragging your finger down to his hard chest.

“And you’re offering?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart?” You cock an eyebrow. “Obviously, yes.”

Iwaizumi regards you, eyes sharp, and your breath hitches. Your smile nearly falters but you save it in time. It feels like he’s looking through you, into you. It’s a struggle to hold his gaze but you’ve never been one to back down. So you look right back at him.

Iwaizumi’s eyes soften and you see him smile for the first time. No, he smirks.

“Say red,” he tells you. “And I’ll stop.”

“O-okay.” You’re annoyed at yourself for stammering but something’s changed with Iwaizumi and it’s thrown you off.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“If I say red, you’ll stop,” you tell him and he gives a short nod, satisfied.

“Good.”

Iwaizumi stands abruptly, picking you up with him and throwing you on the bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, bouncing softly against the mattress.

“What-?”

You don’t have time to ask what the fuck is happening before Iwaizumi’s on you. He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly. He pushes his body between your legs, forcing them apart to accommodate his thick frame.

One of Iwaizumi’s hands grabs your hip as the other snakes around your throat, holding you with enough force for you to feel it but not so hard you’re gasping. His soft lips are in contrast to the sharp stubble scratching your skin, his tongue sliding over yours.

Okay, I might have been wrong, you think. There’s nothing chaste about this.

Iwaizumi grinds his bulge against your clothed pussy, now exposed to him as he tugs up your dress. The friction through two layers of fabric is teasing, making your hips buck, desperate for more. You moan into his mouth and he squeezes your throat.

“Needy little slut,” he says roughly.

Iwaizumi’s degrading words only serve to turn you on even more. His voice has completely changed, now deep and throaty and utterly commanding. Iwaizumi keeps one hand around your neck as his other reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

“Is this what you want so badly?” he says as he pulls his cock free.

You gasp as it slaps against your mound, sending a spark of pleasure through you. You try to nod but Iwaizumi has your throat in too tight a grip.

“Use your fucking words,” he spits. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes, I want it. Please, I want it.”

Iwaizumi reaches down and you hear a violent rip. You’re not able to look down, your head fixed in place, but there’s a cool breeze across your exposed pussy. Your mouth drops open as you realise he’s ripped your panties clean off.

Iwaizumi smirks at your reaction.

“You act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

The Iwaizumi you knew before, so serious and studious, is long gone. You look up at him, his eyes feral, and realise you’ve severely underestimated who you’re up against. He lines up the fat head of his cock with your dripping hole.

“Look how fucking wet you are already.” Iwaizumi pushes himself inside you and you give a choked moan at the feel of him stretching you. “You don’t even need me to get you started, do you? You’ll spread your legs for fucking anyone.”

Iwaizumi’s flurry of degradation is making your pussy drool for him, only spurring you both on. But a nugget of defiance forms in your chest, even as tears stick to your lashes.

“This what your needy little pussy wants?” he demands, pushing in deeper to bottom out.

His cock feels so fucking good, dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you to make your whole body feel like it’s on fire, but your determination not to let him take over fully kicks in.

“Y-yes, Iwa,” you breathe out.

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenches.

“I told you not to fucking call me that,” he grits out.

As if to punctuate, he starts to pound at you hard. Every slam pushes you closer to the edge, sending a jolt through your body to the tips of your toes. His large hand around your neck is delicious, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you raw. You sink your nails into his forearm, lustful whimpers falling from your lips.

“S-sorry…” you gasp. “… Iwa.”

Iwaizumi growls, moving faster and setting a brutal pace.

“Fucking brat.”

You don’t have the strength to talk back anymore. Iwaizumi’s cock is pulling you to the edge, making your eyes roll back in your skull as he rips an orgasm from you. Your pussy clenches down like a vice grip around his cock and a moan escapes Iwaizumi’s throat.

“Fuck… fuck…” he groans.

Iwaizumi fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to watch you bounce under him. Your walls are so slick, so hot, so fucking tight. You’re tearing down all his restraint, moaning so sweetly even as his fist is wrapped around your throat. He knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m… gonna cum…” Iwaizumi says, voice hoarse.

“Inside me,” you plead. “Cum inside me, Iwa.”

Your words tip him over the edge.

His grip tightens on your neck, almost making you dizzy, as he thrusts once, burying himself fully. The moan he makes as he comes undone inside you is intoxicating, satisfying in a way you can’t explain. Iwaizumi’s chest heaves as he half-collapses on top of you, his arms shaking as he holds himself up.

Neither of you say anything, breathless and sweat-slicked.

“Well.” You break the silence with a grin. “I dunno about you but I definitely feel better.”

Iwaizumi’s serious face returns as he rolls his eyes, pulling away from you. He tugs a few tissues free from a box on his nightstand, handing them to you first before himself.

“What a gentleman,” you coo, cleaning yourself up.

“It’s polite. I’m not a savage.”

“The way you fuck says different.”

Even though you’ve still got his cum spilling out of you, Iwaizumi’s ears go pink at your comment. He ignores you and buttons his jeans back up. Cute, you think with a smile.

You point at your destroyed underwear.

“And you ruined my panties. That was rude.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks tint as he blushes harder.

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Finished cleaning yourself up, you hop off his bed and straighten your dress. “I’ll just make sure I’m not wearing any next time.”

Iwaizumi stills.

“Next time?”

“Duh.” You put a hand on your hip. “That was great, right? And my head feels totally clear. I think I’m actually ready to listen to your project plan or whatever.”

You take a seat at his desk, hands clasped demurely on your lap and smiling sweetly.

“Twice a week you said?”

[bluefootedbooby]

I'm glad you're back! Could you possibly write some fluff for Jinx with a s/o that's pretty nervous overall? She seems a bit bolder, so I think it'd be a cute dynamic!

Nervous Wreck

enjoy :>

💙

You’ve never seen Jinx calm, she was always bouncing off the walls one way or another. It is a miracle you two can even date when she is constantly putting herself at risk and worrying your brain to its brink! But yet you made it work, you love her after all.

You were spending another night with your girlfriend, sleeping on her shoddy sewn sheets when you woke to use the bathroom, only to find your blue haired beauty wasn’t sleeping next to you. Alarm bells rang in your head! Where could she be? Is she hurt? Did she run off? You quickly rushed around to try and find her, instantly gravitating towards her workshop to, of course, find her at her work bench welding together pieces of metal at three in the morning.

Your tight chest finally expelled the tension, now just replaced with anger. Jinx has paused her welding a moment to grab new pieces which is when you came over and tapped firmly on her shoulder. She spun around, lifting her giggled off her head with a smile.

“Toots! Whaddaya doing up? It’s late!”

Oh the nerve! You could be asking her the same damn thing. An angry scowl covered your face as your foot tapped on the floor, arms crossed, ready to scold her. But before you could she butted in.

“Sheesh! Okay! I get it! I know, I know, I should be asleep too. But I hadda finish this chomper! You love my chomper! Well you love how they look, not the explody bits, but still! I was only gonna be up for an hour then come back to bed, swear!”

Her words didn’t matter much to you anyways. Nothing but anger derived from your nervous mind filled your expression.

“You scared me. I woke up and you weren’t there! I thought that maybe something happened or you were doing something stupid! And clearly you are!”

Jinx let out a gasp, feigning for offense. But it was quickly followed by a smile and chuckle.

“It’s not stupid! Okay okay, tell you what. I really needa get this done so… Why don’t you sit next to me and to calm your mind watch me work. Yeah? Then we can go back to bed, should only take thirty minutes!”

You thought about the offer a moment. Jinx wasn’t gonna go back to bed until the chomper was done anyways so might as well, you wouldn’t be able to sleep either knowing she could potentially hurt herself. With a sigh you nodded and took the seat next to her.

“There we go — Now! Look at this! I fixed the hinges so the chomping is less squeaky! Huh? Pretty neat!”

You smiled softly, eyes rolling as you leaned in to listen to her rambles.

———

💙

[moonsaver]

hiyaaa! its me again!! omg is it just me or is there just NO robin x reader content like, at all???

please please please!! if you don't mind, please give me your robin romantic headcanons?

an extra add on food for thought: what do you think would happen if both siblings happen to pine after the same person?

Hello dear inbox visitor! I think it would be better if you sent it during while requests were open, since it kind of teeters on the line between thoughts vs requests haha. Anyways, you're right. We dont have enough x robin content :(

Lets try and fix it!

Robin seems like a very attentive lover, which is surprising considering how busy she would be since she's a popstar.

During conversations or small talk, passing phrases, she makes sure to listen to you lovingly,and makes note of all the small things about you.

To me, I think she'd be the type of person who puts your name as just a pink heart icon, and notes down all the things you like in the description of your contact. She also has a separate notes tab for other things like your wishlist items, things she's noticed about you, and so on.

She's optimistic, but not unrealistic. If you're the overthinker type, she grounds you flawlessly. She's very rational and sorts things out carefully with you, sitting you down gently and discusses everything on your mind with you. Gives you a lovely, soft smile when you stop overthinking and come to a solution with a relaxed sigh.

Surprisingly sensitive to physical contact. She's not touch-starved, nor averse to it, but still is unused to it for the most part. However, she likes holding hands very often. She'd be very happy if you rubbed your thumb over her knuckles. Often takes off her glove just to hold your hand. I feel like her hands would be pleasantly cold. She squeaks slightly when you kiss her face! Then giggles. She likes the feeling of you peppering her face in kisses.

Lets you touch her wings often, and they are incredibly soft. They smell pleasantly of flowers, and sometimes she flutters them on your face to make you giggle. She doesn't mind if you mess them up a bit, as long as it's not before a concert.

If you have hair long enough to braid, she'll want to do that. She has cute little accessories on her that she uses whenever you let her, cute clips and hair ties that she uses for you specifically. She also really likes it when you braid her hair. She doesn't care if it's not pretty, she just likes that you're the one doing it.

Often, I imagine she gets overwhelmed with the amount of people working on her appearances that sometimes she just asks them to leave and has you help her work on her appearance. It could just be feedback and she'll appreciate it. She just likes being in your presence whenever she's overwhelmed, which can be often if she's especially out on a tour. If you can't be there physically, she'll want to call you, or replay any voice notes you may have sent previously. She saves them all – date, time, named and even the context behind them. She misses you dearly whenever she's away, just doesn't have the time to even express it.

If you're alright with cosmetics of all kinds, she's a little thrilled. She'll want you to try her perfumes and clothes, too. Kisses you directly if you ask for her lip balm or lipgloss, then giggles at the transferred sheen. Likes trying out new eye palette colors on you, trying out new styles of makeup, and often asks for suggestion on her own outfits. She also adores when you both dress up in matching outfits, and has a neat little album of you two consisting of photos that she takes.

Robin can feel a bit shy asking for affection or doing cute couple-things. She really likes the corny things, like indirect kisses from shared straws, being stared at while she's doing something, being kissed in the rain, dancing together, etc.. she also probably saw you eat a lollipop once, and wanted to ask you for a taste, but got too shy and didn't ask. You have to take the initiative and comfort her into asking for these things.

Anyways, if both siblings pine for the same person.. it's gonna be a little strained. Depends on how much they like the reader respectively, but lets assume both of them are head over heels for reader.

Robin and Sunday pining after the same person may either bring them together or put more strain on their already, slightly distant relationship. I feel like Sunday may either support his sister, convince her to pursue you and share you with him, or guilt trip her into not approaching you. Not even as a yandere, Sunday can be a little manipulative and greedy when it comes to his feelings. Ever since Robin left Sunday alone as the head of the Oak Family, I feel like he would harbor a small amount of apathy or even dislike towards her because of it, and on top of that, if she ends up liking you, he'll feel oddly like you've been stolen from him.

Robin.. won't back off so easily however. She's a smart girl, and even if she obliges to her brother's whims, she knows him better than anyone else. She'll probably stay docile for the most part, though. However, she isn't just a pretty face. Just because she remains docile doesn't mean she's given you up completely to her brother. She'll at least remain stubborn on having you to some degree, even if it means straining their relationship a bit.

[zirconika]

PART ONE

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a two-part fic entitled 'Chivalry is Dead.' Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 5.8k SUMMARY: You’re smitten with the archer you meet at the quarry who doesn’t believe in romance, vowing to make him yours, but it eventually becomes frustrating when he’s never clear with what he wants. WARNINGS: fluff. angst with comfort, then angst with no comfort. reader is very flirty with daryl.  SETTING: the quarry, the farm, and the prison

I. A CHANGE OF SCENERY - THE QUARRY

Prim and proper, clean-shaven, wears an authentic watch, bothers to use cufflinks, gets a neat haircut often, works in corporate…

You liked your men worthy of an introduction to your family. The kind of guy who you could, with no shame, flaunt to your family. A guy who would do well in the role of a sweet, loving husband and father in the comfort of the suburban home you built together.

Shame that they’re pretty hard to come by lately, not to mention that it doesn’t even matter anymore—

“…Y’know what I mean?” you rambled to the archer who had a permanent scowl itched on his face. Unbeknownst to you thanks to your drunken stupor, he’d been listening to you going off about your type.

He watched as you held an almost empty bottle of alcohol pressed to your chest, your eyes manning the space around you as if you were talking to a crowd of people. Much to your luck, the rest of the people had eventually retreated to their own tents, leaving you to the company of this — sorta cute — redneck.

“Like, where do you think I could even get them these days?” you laughed, your eyes going back to him. “But then, like, y’know, it doesn’t even matter ‘coz I got my family killed! And I didn’t even do anything, I just ran like a fucking coward.”

Daryl decided an hour and a half ago that he’d up and go off to somewhere else, maybe to hunt. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave in concern for the drunk woman beside him who’d sooner or later become another hunter’s prey. Maybe even the undead’s.

Pain in ‘ma ass, he’d thought to himself while watching you with a scowl as he sank back down to the log in front of the campfire. 

“I could use a bar of chocolate, but… This is the closest thing.” You made to gulp down more of the alcohol, but he reached out to snag it away from your hands. You yelled at the archer. “What are you—!”

“‘Yer a fuckin’ idiot,” he spat, setting the bottle aside. Daryl met your bewildered gaze, and he was certain you wouldn’t even remember it the next day. “Ain’t no reason blamin’ yourself for somethin’ ya couldn’t prevent. And ‘yer worried about all the wrong things, too! I’s out there huntin’ and I couldn’t care less ‘bout what kind’a girl I’d snag, I actually worried ‘bout somethin’ that matters! Like the fuck the camp’s gonna eat, which one of us would those stinking geeks get next and—!”

Daryl zipped his mouth shut for a good moment, realizing he’d said too much. Oh, fuck. He was thinking of ways to save this. He didn’t have an inkling on how to comfort a girl, much less a drunk and crying one. Your eyes turned glassy, your face contorting to…

“Pfft!” you laughed, further confusing the archer before you. He watched as you leaned backward, laughing. It was sort of a relief to watch and to hear; some great change of scenery to what he’d grown accustomed to seeing on the daily. “Y’know the” — you hiccuped — “funny thing about the guys I used to date? They ended up screwin’ some other pretty girl looking for the same guy as me. See, I cracked the code!”

You blinked a couple of times. Daryl remained silent. You couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned closer to the archer, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in his chest as you came closer, your nose closing in on a couple of inches away from his. 

A buzzing sensation crawled from your chest to your cheeks, warming your face up as you felt something begging to be unleashed from within you—a confession, perhaps?

He got a good whiff of the alcohol from your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak. “I should’ve been looking for someone like you!”

Daryl felt heat rush to his cheeks. He wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing: Good because you considered him worthy of being chosen or bad because that would mean he was the opposite of everything you thought was ideal in a partner?

Why did it matter to him?

You leaned closer. “Better yet, I think that you’re—”

The warmth he could feel inside of his chest was now outside too, pouring on the surface of his shirt with alcohol and bile mixing in the humid air of the night.

“Fucking hell!” he cursed in a whisper as your body slumped forward, passing out asleep on his lap. Daryl would have done the same as you if somebody told him that that night was the beginning of an epic love story.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The following days went by like a blur, with Daryl’s suspicion that you recalled everything dissolving into the relief that maybe you really had no idea what happened that night. You acted normal the day after that brilliant occasion, save for groggy eyes that lasted the entire day as well as a visible temper. 

You paid him no mind the entire time, but he assumed you were just embarrassed for confrontation. However, the entire week passed and you made no comment whatsoever about what transpired. 

His eyes always lingered on you a second longer than he’d intend to in an attempt to get a glimpse of embarrassment. He’d been meaning to tease you about it as revenge, but… Looks like you’ve forgotten. He probably should, too.

This very relief went away when you volunteered to come along with him to hunt for food. “I’m coming along, you should teach me how to use your crossbow,” you said, dagger in hand.

He wanted to argue, but worried he’d say something that would trigger your memory, he only nudged his nose up as a nod. 

The entire walk in the woods would have been a painful silence if not for the rustling of leaves in the trees and the subtle whistle of the wind.

You watched the broad shouldered archer before you made his way with calculated steps, even while you couldn't yet pinpoint a target. “Well, aren’t you stealthy?” 

Daryl spared a glare your way. “Why’d ya go huntin’ anyway? And with a blunt knife at that—are ya and idiot or somethin’?”

“‘Cause I was thinking maybe you should teach me your weapon of choice.” You looked at him as if he said something mad. “Didn’t I just say that, like, two minutes ago?”

He noticed that you said ‘should’ instead of ‘could.’

“Let me get this straight,” the archer started, halting, and you knew a scowl would greet you before he even faced you. “Ya went into the woods to hunt, but ya don’t even have a clue how?”

“Oh, honey, I didn’t say I needed you to teach me how to hunt. Didn’t even say I was gonna hunt.” You stepped closer to him. You noticed he took a subtle step back, and you couldn’t help but grin. Could it be that this rugged gentleman is nervous? “I said I wanted you to teach me how to use your crossbow.”

He cleared his throat, pulling back his armor of a scowl matched with an anger that was certainly uncalled for. “Oh, yeah? It’s fuckin’ stupid of ya to think I go around grantin’ everybody’s requests! And I ain’t gonna just stand here and take this, hunt by yourself.”

Daryl turned around, a casual swagger to his walk. You had to smirk at his back, knowing what he’d do next once you hit him with your first ammunition: intel. “I know something you stood for and took like a champ.”

The archer froze. 

“Thanks, by the way. And sorry you had to deal with that!” you exclaimed. “See, between the two of us, I’m not the stupid one. You could’ve used that against me, but you didn’t. And that just made me more interested in you—like, wow! You’re a lot more of a gentleman than you think you are.”

Oh, Daryl was pissed. Why were you the one making fun of him when it’s you who should’ve been abashed by what happened? “You remembered all along and ya didn’t say sorry?”

“I just did,” you said blankly.

Daryl faced you, shaking his head in a stubborn way. “Nah, ‘ya didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. I said ‘sorry you had to deal with that.’”

He scoffed. “Doesn’t count.”

“Does too!” you spat back, this time grinning at the archer. You couldn’t help but laugh at his growing frown. “Come on, if you could take that with dignity, surely a crossbow lesson with Coach Daryl can’t be that bad.”

“Why do ya even want one? Thought ya said it wasn’t practical, righ’?” he asked, recalling all the times you called his weapon all kinds of things when you were drunk: “It’s way too heavy and takes up arm space! Can’t fit it in a pocket! It looks like a toy!”

You laughed out loud from his poor attempts at imitating you. Daryl felt the slightest tinge of embarrassment. He wanted to cup his own cheeks to make sure he wasn’t imagining the heat in there, worried he’d gone red. And if he did, he hoped you’d mistake it for the effect of the Georgia sun.

“Yeah, I did say that,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Daryl raised a brow. “So why want it?”

You stepped forward again, taunting him. “Because I have a thing for the guy giving the lessons.”

The warmth that paid him a visit that one fateful night made its presence clearer, this time from the burrows of his chest. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“I ain’t interested,” he said. Daryl was all things, but not a liar. This time, though, he might just be one.

Although he was looking down at you, he felt as if he was the one being challenged from above. He gulped. 

This time, you raised a brow at him. “Oh, you’re not into girls?”

“I—”

“I’m kidding. Y’know I thought the same, maybe you weren’t interested in me.”

Daryl shrugged, composing himself in an attempt to restore the dynamic he had in his head where he could be in a position where he could intimidate you. He couldn’t. “Yeah, ‘cause I ain’t.”

You continued to ramble on. “I was thinking, hey, maybe this guy doesn’t have any feelings for me!”

He put his hands on his hips, challenging you. But you weren’t quick to back down from a fight. “‘Cause I don’t.”

“Right,” you mused. “Didn’t you bring me a warm cup of tea the day after to help with my hangover?”

He watched you with question, but he worried you’d see the static coming from his chest and spreading to his arms. “Yeah, that woman Carol asked me to.”

“Huh,” you scoffed with a smile, ready for the look on his face to come and indicate your victory. “Funny. I was ready to ignore what happened, think of your kindness as nothing but kindness. But see, I came by sweet Carol’s tent to thank her but imagine my surprise when she said ‘What tea’?”

He had no answer to that. Usually, Daryl was a man who could think on his feet. Heck, you expected him to have some brilliant excuse. He was a hunter, after all. It was natural of him to think quickly.

You licked your lips, staring at his with that smirk of yours he wanted so badly to wipe off. “I’m gonna court you, Daryl Dixon. And you’re gonna say yes.”

The archer grunted, swinging his beloved weapon across his shoulder, shaking his head in denial. “I ain’t ever sayin’ yes to anything.”

“Sure, not today, not tomorrow, but a little push and I know I can get to you.”

Daryl spit somewhere on the dead soil surrounding you as he walked off to the trees. “Nah, never.”

As he disappeared into the forest, you couldn’t help but grin, feeling confident. You saw that moment of weakness. Somehow, some part of you knew it would happen. “Never say never, Daryl Dixon!”

You saw his middle finger raised just before he disappeared further, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Game on, archer.

It went on like that for a while. Daryl said he hated it, that ‘allat romance crap’s worth nothin.’ Still, those little slip-ups in his expressions and gait let you know that there was an opening there somewhere. 

He did start teaching you how to use his crossbow, and the first time you were able to shoot a deer with it, you felt as if his silence was born from both his shock and the fact that he was possibly impressed. 

“I can feel your boner from here, Dixon,” you smirked as you carried his crossbow with you as you began to walk over to your successful capture.

“Shuddup,” he said in response. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was definitely thrown off by how he was feeling watching you walking with his weapon. 

“Help me with this,” you said, grabbing the animal by its hind legs. “Carry the deer so the gang could see how kickass I look with your crossbow. No wonder you like it, it makes me feel sexy.”

When you faced the archer, you raised a brow. He’d been staring and out of focus longer than he intended to be, not that he did. You smirk at this.

“You’re starting to like me,” you said, pointing at him with an accusatory finger. “You were staring.”

“Nuh uh,” he said, composing himself as he hurried to haul the animal over his shoulder. 

“Is it the crossbow? ‘Cause I get it. I look at you with it and I think, ‘Oh, now that’s a man.’” You adjust the crossbow on your shoulder as Daryl watches you with confusion and… Maybe admiration? “I’m gonna do an experiment. This is hot.”

You move the crossbow to your hands, extending it outwards, posing for him with a slouch. “Not hot.”

You kept going on; hot with the crossbow, not hot for the crossbow. Until Daryl stopped you.

“Yer wastin’ time, yours and mine, when yer hot either way.” Daryl froze. So did you. His eyes widened, his cheeks redder than ever. “Not hot. Either way. Hey, I—!”

“You think I’m hot! You said I—!” you exclaim. Daryl clasped his clean hand over your mouth, pushing you against the tree. 

“They’re gonna hear ya.”

No walker came by. You could hear nothing but Daryl’s breath and yours, at least until he dropped his hand.

On the walk back to camp, you were grinning the entire way. Daryl remained silent, afraid he’d say something that you could use against him.

“That was a Freudian slip,” you said with a snort. 

Daryl wanted to argue, but knowing he couldn’t trust himself with talking, he kept his words short. “A what?”

“You subconsciously said something you actually meant. I get it, really.” You make a show of holding his crossbow. “I like you, you like me. But then you feel embarrassed that I’m going after you before you could go after me because you feel weird about a woman pursuing you even though you clearly really have the hots for her.”

He fought to keep his face stoic. “Nah, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Alrigh,” Daryl said just to end the conversation.

“Alright as in yes you do?” you tease the archer. 

Daryl smirked, determined to get you to admit defeat on your mission to pursue him. “Alrigh’ as in I don’t care.”

But you weren’t a quitter. He’d shown a glimpse of how he felt, and you were determined to get it out of him. By the time you reached camp, you handed his crossbow over to him with a glimmer in your eyes.

“You seemed to enjoy having your hands on me just a couple of minutes ago.” You flip him off as you walk away to go help out with the rest of the people in the camp. “See ya, Dixon.”

Though he wouldn’t show it, Daryl would rather sleep in the woods alone, weaponless than admit that he did. 

It wasn’t just that. He didn’t hate the things you were doing to him and for him. He hated that he wished he thought of pursuing you sooner so he’d have the upper hand. . .

Nah, nah, I don’t. He shook his head to himself.

But it became harder to deny whenever you went out of your way to do something for him, especially when he lost his brother. When he mourned Merle, you were there. And you weren’t a menace like he thought you would be.

You were just. . .there. Giving him the bigger half of whatever food you had, lingering just ever so near, and more. Daryl was surprised to realize that he enjoyed your company. 

He knew he was fucked. Especially when he realized he missed you flirting with him, but he’d never tell you that.

II. NICE - GREENE FARM

Looking for a missing child was way easier when there were no corpses roaming the land of the living, back when there was no need to distinguish what’s alive and what’s not. You were hoping that Sophia would turn up as soon as possible. 

You felt a twinge of guilt realizing that your hope for the child being found was just Daryl’s return, but it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t that you had this silly crush on the archer. Yes, you did, but you needed the right time to talk to him about what happened at the CDC.

You’d never felt so mortified. For the longest time, you’ve been saying that you wanted to accept death in exchange for peace. You always thought that when the time comes, you’d be ready. It was a fucked up way to realize that you weren’t, and you found yourself out of breath, unable to chase your breathing.

Daryl was hysterical, but upon seeing you, he immediately rushed in front of you, cupping your face with his rough hands. 

“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He then held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break. You weren’t able to process the rest, but you remembered him at first assisting you in walking until he eventually carried you in his arms out of the facility right before it deteriorated.

You never got to speak to him since then except for when you encountered the herd on the road. He just asked if you were okay, and that was it. 

He’d been preoccupied looking for Sophia ever since. You didn’t want to assume that he’d only been looking for her just because that would make you the biggest insensitive asshole in the world. 

Just then, a young blonde girl came out of the house, a tray in hand. 

“Hi,” she said. You could tell right from how she held herself that she was of good nature. “I’m Beth. I brought you some tea and some oatmeal.”

A small smile came on your face, and you couldn’t help but let it grow brighter when you watched the girl realize why. 

“Oh, I gave this to you on my own—nevermind,” she sighed. “He told me not to tell you ‘cause he said you were—”

“A pain in his ass?” you teased with a grin. “Verbatim?”

Beth considered what she was going to say, but she eventually smiled as well as she set it on the small stool table beside the rocking chair you were sitting on while you stared in the distance. “Well, yes.”

You laughed together with the girl. It was easy to talk to her, you felt light. 

“But he also told me to watch after you.”

You waved your hand, dismissing Daryl’s order to the girl. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. In fact, we should share this oatmeal. It looks good!”

Beth gave you the warmest smile anyone’s ever given you for the past week. “No, I’m okay. He specifically told me to make sure you eat enough. Said he’d bring in something later for you later.”

This time, heat rushed to your cheeks. You stuffed it down. “I’m pretty sure the meat’s for all of us, just including me.”

“I don’t know,” Beth said, leaning against the railing of the house’s front porch. The air certainly felt different in the farm compared to every other place you’ve been to. The sun was setting, and the view of the sky could make anyone oblivious to the newfound horrors of the world. “He was talking about how you needed it, but my dad said you weren’t in need of any medicine. You just needed to eat somethin. And if you needed something for your headache, we have it.”

“I see,” you said, your shoulders sinking. “He’s probably just avoiding me.”

Beth faced you, confused. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, that’s Daryl.” You shrugged, thinking back to what he’d done for you at the CDC. You could almost feel his arms carrying you again, and you couldn’t help but feel the heat in your cheeks return. You instinctively look down. 

Beth noticed your brow furrowing just before you reached out to feel your temple. “Do you need anything?”

“Sorry you have to take care of me,” you say with an apologetic smile. “Just whatever you have for headaches and a decent sleep.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You awoke around the middle of the night to the door to your room shutting closed. At first, you thought that someone came in only to find that you were completely alone. You then heard the faint sound of footsteps walking down the stairs just outside. 

Stirring awake, you sit up straight to rub your eyes. Outside, the sky was dark. You must’ve slept for around eight hours, because you could no longer feel sleep returning easily. The urge was there, but you knew sinking back into a deep sleep would be for nothing. 

You yawn and scratch at your neck. On the nightstand to your right, you’re relieved to find a glass of water. But what stole your attention was what sat right next to it.

You were surprised to find three packs of chocolates: KitKat Bars, Kisses, and Hershey’s. There were also some packs of M&Ms.

Thinking back to the footsteps rushing down the stairs just a minute ago, you hurriedly carried all of the chocolates with you and ran down the stairs as lightly as you could so as to not wake anyone. 

You swung the screen door open, trudging down the stairs of the porch. You reach Daryl just before he enters the tent. You chuck the pack of KitKats to his head, to which he yelped. “Ow!”

“Do you like me?” you ask directly.

The archer faces you, picking up the pack of KitKats you threw at him. “What’d ya do that for?”

“Do you like me?” you ask, firmer this time.

There’s that pause. That two-second, lingering, suffocating pause. “I don’t.”

But that pause meant maybe. Both of you knew it, he just didn’t want to admit it, like he always does. Annoyed, you throw the rest of the chocolates to his feet. “Then you shouldn’t be doing things that make it seem like you do!”

You don’t know if it was the painkillers or just your interrupted sleep, but you definitely felt your temper controlling you. 

“I was bein’ nice.”

“Nice is opening the door for someone. Nice is handing the water pitcher at the dinner table. Nice is not asking someone to take care of me while you’re away, nice is not you bringing me chocolates like it’s Valentine’s to cheer me up when you know damn well how I feel about you. Nice is not making me feel like you feel the same and then take it back then just act like you do feel the same again!”

Daryl stood there, taking it all.

You rubbed at your eyes, your shoulders slumping. You feel a lump in your throat and your eyes begin to water. You stare at him for three seconds before turning around to return inside when he grabs you by the wrist to pull you into that same embrace he’d wrapped you into that day at the CDC. 

He was warm. God, he was warm. You hated that your body craved the press of his. 

He held you until you stopped crying. Until, for some reason, you were holed up in his tent, eating the chocolates he got for you while the two of you talked about everything and nothing. 

You realized how easy it was to speak to Daryl, too. How it came naturally, and how you felt comfortable being yourself around him outside of the flirting. Maybe it really was better to remain friends.

You were just being nice to each other. But if Daryl really did feel an ounce of what you felt, then that wouldn’t be very nice of him.

For a while, you accepted that. You stopped pursuing him altogether and maintained a respectable distance with him. He then always seemed to be everywhere you went, but you told yourself you were in over your head thinking he’d ever even feel the same way.

III. RETURN - PRISON

Life was good. Save for the nightmare that was facing the Governor, of course. The last time you felt a grudge against him was when he left with his brother, but you stopped yourself from feeling anything. After all, that was his brother and you were…

A friend. He’d apologized leaving by bringing you more chocolates from his run. Things have been good lately. You loved being friends with Daryl.

Sure, you’d find yourself in feats of attraction towards the guy ever so often, like the time he carried baby Judith. . .

That was something.

It didn’t help that he was looking at you while he was carrying her, even playing with her and showing her to you. You hated that even though you say you feel nothing anymore, sometimes everything resurfaces.

If only you knew what was going through his mind when he passed baby Judith to you. 

Those were little tests that failed to weaken your belief that you were better off as friends. You survived them. Yep, you were fine being friends. It was just a silly crush anyway.

“[Y/N],” Daryl called from outside your cell. “[Y/N], we’re heading out to get some meds, ‘ya need anythin’? Chocolates again, maybe?”

You were covered in two blankets head neck to toe, your back to the cell door. You said nothing, much less did anything to indicate you heard him. Daryl stepped inside, feeling bad that he’d crossed over but he somehow felt like he had to.

“[Y/N]?”

By the second Daryl laid his hands on your shoulder to tap you, he knew he had to turn you over. You were shivering in your half-sleep, and yet when Daryl pressed the back of his palm against you, you were burning up.

“Jesus, you’re—!”

“I think I caught it,” you said. You try to sit up, and Daryl helps you up. You turn the other way to cough. “I was gonna bring myself to the quarantine cell block, but I couldn’t stand up.”

“Here, I got ‘ya,” he said, helping you up. “You sure ‘ya don’t wanna stay here in your cell instead?”

You shook your head. “I could turn and infect everyone. I—”

“Hey.” He cupped your cheek with his hand, gently tapping it to keep you in check. “You’re not gonna turn, I’m not gonna let that happen to ‘ya. I’m goin’ out and gettin’ ‘ya the meds, then yer gonna be fine.”

“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” you said drunkenly. On the way to the isolated block, you feel yourself losing your step… Losing your consciousness…

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]!”

And it all went dark.

The days that followed promised a new routine. After the supply run, you were the first stop Daryl visited. He talked to you, took care of you. He’d tell you stories about him and his brother Merle. You’d tell him about the guys you dated and every single terrible date experience you’ve had.

“Yeah, you said you hated dating ‘em. So you wanted to date guys like me instead, y’know, the kind you’d be embarrassed to introduce to your ma and pa.”

You laughed. “Oh, come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Friends, friends, friends. That’s how it is, how it should’ve been right from the start. It’s so easy to laugh with Daryl, so easy to be with him.

That was until you got better. You were out, making the rounds.

“Ya shouldn’t be here,” he’d told you when he caught you walking the perimeter with a revolver. “At least not yet. I’ll take over from here.”

“Nah, somehow I feel way sicker when I’m not doing anything.”

He shrugged. “You could read a book.”

“Oh, yeah?” you chuckled.

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence again. It was just the two of you in the dead of night, and you wondered if you only imagined the flurry of emotions back then when you were separated when you got sick.

You wanted to stay there in that moment forever, just standing in the dark with Daryl. But you felt a sort of suffocating sensation the moment you thought of him fondly. You were a bit sleepy anyway.

“Actually, maybe I should go.” Yawning, you stuff the revolver back to your holster. “Good night, Daryl.”

You only got to walk past him a couple of steps before he spoke.

“[Y/N]?” he called out to you just before you were about to return to your quarters. You felt sleep about to take you in deeply, but you fought it off, telling yourself it’ll be quick.

You face the archer, raising an interrogative brow in response. 

For some strange, mundane reason, you found him extra lovely tonight. You were forced to discover why as he leaned forward, pressing his lips into yours in the most gentle way he could. You pull away.

There’s a question in your eyes, and so he only kisses you again in response. You kiss him back, this time with desperation. You don’t know where to put your hands, overwhelmed by this gust of exhilaration washing over you as his hands caress the nape of your neck. 

He pulls away this time.

You couldn’t believe it. So many thoughts ran into your head. Pursuing Daryl used to be something you were just looking forward to as a challenge, maybe even just for the sole purpose of enjoying a fling knowing the end is near.

But you got to know him. He got to know you, and you let him. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, bringing them high enough for the most genuine grin to show in your face. “Does this mean—?”

“Nah.” He takes a step backward, and your grin instantly dissolves into a frown at the sight of him shaking his head. “No, I…”

What?

You shake your head in disbelief. 

What the fuck?

Your smile faltered further. The butterflies in your stomach you thought you felt suddenly felt as if you were about to throw it up again.

“No?” you utter in disbelief, the taste of his lips still stuck somewhere in your mouth. You step backward as well, staring into space as you touched the lips of yours he’d just kissed with so much passion, opposite to the coldness he’d brought upon you with that one word. The rush from the kiss was being drowned by an otherworldly anger threatening to be unleashed. “What the—No?”

You turn your focus to him again. He says nothing, his back to you as he stares into the dark greenery outside of the fence. 

“You make me chase after you like a fool and ‘No’?”

Daryl sunk into himself. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve anything you gave him. He didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t ask ‘ya to.”

He wanted to disappear. 

“Right.” You had to laugh. “Turn around. Face me.”

The archer obliged, and you couldn’t read his face enough through the tears born from your anger. He hated that he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you into another kiss, to press his lips against your neck and down to your chest. He wanted to caress your hair, to—

“Back at the CDC, I wanted to stop pursuing you. But then” — his heart broke as your voice cracked — “you held my hand when we found out we could die and you looked at me with those fucking eyes of yours on your goddamn face and I thought maybe there was something real, something I could get out of you if I tried hard enough.”

“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break.

“Then you were cold again, and I thought maybe you were just being kind like usual back then but you—argh! You got me chocolates when I was scared shitless from almost dying and called it being nice and friendly before holding me again!”

You rubbed your eyes, frustrated more than ever.

“You just had to take advantage of the fact that I’m weak for you! You nursed me back to health when I got sick, you spoke to me as if you felt the same way, just—everything! You say you didn’t ask me to chase after you but when I did stop, you find ways to get me back on your trail and now you kiss me and then you take it back?”

You felt your heart begging to be freed. You couldn’t breathe. The lump in your throat was building up, and you knew it did its work once you felt your cheeks begin to wet. 

You couldn’t even see him clearly through your tears. “What the fuck do you want, Daryl?”

How could he tell you? What could he say? He didn’t even know what he wanted. Still, you waited in hopes he’d give you an explanation. That he’d at least explain himself.

“Do you like me?” you ask him again. No response.

You steel yourself for what you were about to ask next. 

“Do you love me?”

Silence. 

“God, I’m so stupid."

Realizing the chance you gave him is all for naught, you shook your head with a mirthless laugh as you walked away. The embrace of sleep never returned, and you were left to stare at the ceiling, waiting for daybreak to come just so you could fight an unwinnable war.

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TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie @avabh12 @stinkygirl009

[withleeknow]

remedy.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; implies that minho has anxiety, unedited bc i am me and you shouldn't expect much from me lmao word count: 1.2k note: hello hello!! i've been meaning to write this since the day of the rock-star comeback but i'm only getting around to finishing it now lol. but the timing's pretty neat so consider this a christmas present from me and mine to you and yours!! <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when the sun rouses you awake in the morning, you feel two arms loosely wrapped around you that weren't there before you fell asleep last night.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the warmth and comfort that he brings you. home, finally.

you turn in his hold, as gently as you can to not disturb your slumbering minho.

you don’t know when exactly he got back, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours ago. sometimes, when he has night schedules, he doesn’t usually return until the sun is peeking over the horizon. you’re used to him having to work throughout the wee hours of the night every other week. you don’t like it, but you’re used to it.

you expect to find him snoozing peacefully beside you, with his handsome face and his lips parted cutely as he lightly snores, but when you finally shuffle around to look at him, you instantly frown.

a frown that matches his own.

baby, you think, what’s wrong?

even in his sleep, minho’s brows are knitted together, the corners of his mouth tugged downward like he’s having a bad dream. the instant concern that rushes through you parts the hazy fog in your brain, and then... you remember.

it was only half past three in the morning when your phone buzzed to life, the vibrations resounding brassily against the wooden surface of your nightstand. reaching out blindly for the device, you only needed to peek through one eye to scan the time and the caller id before you held it to your ear, your face still smushed against your fluffy pillow.

"hmm?"

"i'm sorry," minho was quick to apologize. "did i wake you?" he sounded rushed, like he had wandered off to a corner to steal a few minutes for himself before having to go back.

you made a noncommittal noise, already feeling the exhaustion luring you back to dreamland. it had been a long week and you'd endured five whole days just to get to the weekend, to be able to spend hours on end with your boyfriend. it'd be just you and him, wrapped up together in your cozy little bubble, all your stresses and troubles kept at bay. he was always the best part of your days, your weeks, your months, even your years.

even though you were drifting, you still managed to ask, "is everything okay?"

"yeah, everything’s fine. i just missed you."

it made you smile nonetheless. he didn’t often disturb you in the middle of the night just to be sappy with you whenever he was stuck working odd hours, but it wasn’t necessarily anything out of the ordinary. minho could still be needy and clingy sometimes. it was one of the things that you loved most about him - that he could be a grumpy cat most of the time, but underneath that prickly exterior, he was just a big softie. you loved it even more that you were the only person who could bring out that side of him.

"missed you too," you mumbled. it didn’t sound at all lively, but you knew he could tell that you meant it.

you caught a sigh from his end before he continued. though this time, he let his defenses down when he spoke. his voice came out along with a tired exhale, laced with something that you would’ve been able to pick up on had your mind not been delirious with sleep. "wanna be there with you," he said in earnest. "want you to be here with me."

"when are you coming home?" you asked, even though the words came out a little garbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

"in a couple hours. i'll be home right after this."

"okay. we can-" cue a big yawn. "we can stay in bed as long as you want in the morning."

"yeah, that sounds nice."

"then i’ll see you in a bit, okay?"

he paused briefly before his next words came out a little unsteady, hesitant. the unease with which he spoke bypassed your unassuming radar completely. "can we just stay on the phone?"

"min-"

"you don't have to talk to me. just... stay with me for a while."

you think you might've passed out again after that, the subsequent silence and his breathing on the other end having lulled you back to sleep in a matter of seconds.

my love, it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it, how could i have missed it?

you quietly move closer to him, shuffling inch by inch until you’re chest to chest, hoping his body could sense your warmth and be comforted by it, even just a little bit. you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, but even that simple touch stirs him awake even though minho is usually a deep sleeper.

his eyes slowly open, and you suppose the tug on your heartstrings loosens when the furrow between his brows eases as he takes in the sight of you.

he heaves a sigh of relief, and it’s like you can actually see some of the tension leaving his body as he pulls you to him, holding you against him so tightly that it’s impossible to move even if you wanted to.

"hi," you say, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling further into him until it’s hard to tell if the heartbeat you feel is yours or his.

"hi," he replies, his soft lips placing a greeting kiss on the top of your head.

"bad day?" night, but oh well. technicalities. 

his answer comes muffled against your hair, though you feel the slight vibration of his chest when he mutters, "it wasn’t that bad. i was just a little overwhelmed."

"but it's better now?"

"much better, now that you’re here."

truthfully, you don’t really know what to say in moments like this. you want to be able to offer him reassuring words that could ease his nerves and calm his raging sea, but you’re not good with words. you never have been. you don’t think you ever will be, as much as you want to. for him.

it makes you feel guilty at times, not being able to give minho the peace he needs.

you do try though, to comfort him as much as you can.

"i love you," you say quietly. your arm wraps around him, your palm landing on his upper back where your fingers tenderly soothe the firm muscles you find. i'm sorry i wasn't there for you. i wish i have the right words to say to you.

"i could listen to you breathe and feel ten times better," he admits, putting some distance between your faces so he can look at you, as if it'll help emphasize his words. "i don’t even need you to do anything. i just need you. you’re more than enough for me."

his eyes bore into yours, glittering with nothing but a kind of sincerity that he never shows anyone but you. you kiss him then, soft and slow. you want to pour as much love into him as you possibly can. and even then you don't think it can amount to a fraction of what he deserves.

but nonetheless, you try. you try because he means the world to you.

i'll do better for you. let me share your burdens with you.

pulling away, you tell him, as your palm gently holds his cheek, a touch which he leans into instantaneously. "go back to sleep. i’ve got you."

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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 25.12.2023]

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned. 

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream. 

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment. 

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter. 

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want. 

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy. 

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal. 

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb. 

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated. 

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition. 

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot. 

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder. 

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty. 

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year. 

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express. 

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair. 

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong? 

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack. 

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights? 

He’d heard some things about teenagers. 

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly. 

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen. 

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there. 

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father. 

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap. 

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours. 

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.” 

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers. 

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all. 

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else. 

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts. 

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.” 

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.” 

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head. 

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket. 

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?” 

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?” 

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted. 

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way. 

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals. 

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought. 

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard. 

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door. 

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop. 

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise. 

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds. 

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand. 

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!” 

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands. 

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly. 

“Please.” A pin could drop. 

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand. 

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver. 

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do. 

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else. 

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle. 

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from. 

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries. 

“Can I come in?” 

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do? 

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing. 

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?” 

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.” 

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in. 

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears. 

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips. 

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle. 

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins. 

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter. 

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly. 

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns. 

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence. 

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?” 

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.” 

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles. 

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly. 

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen. 

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket. 

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around. 

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.” 

Of course, he’d noticed that, too. 

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely. 

“What is it?” 

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin. 

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[cvnt4him]

Hello!! I'm the same girl who requested for IT reader a while back, and I really liked it!<3 I wanted to try out requesting again so I'm here once more😭😭 Anyway, are you fine with family-centered stuff? Could you do heavy angst with Father!Number One!Izuku with his little girl? You can decide whatever for the child, really!(but personally I prefer daughter) So, since Izuku is the number one, Y/N is probably the one mostly taking care of their kid. What if there was this huge accident that killed Y/N because the heroes were too late to detain the villain? Plus points if Izuku was the hero assigned. So ever since the death, Izuku is suddenly the caretaker and tries his absolute best to make his kid happy but fails since the kid absolutely loathes him for being absent and for being too late to save their mother. What do you think Izuku will do?? So, yeah!! It's up to you if this isn't weird</3

Its not weird at all my love, thanm you for the req and I'm so glad to have you requesting from me again, feel free to stop by once more and leave some more, youre always welcome<33 I would also like to apologize to you and everyone else who has made a req and I haven't gotten to it. I won't get into detail but I've been busy, I've closed my reqs so I can get all my old ones out, most of my reqs are like months old anyways so here i am clesning out the closet.

...

“mr midoriya, where would you say your life went wrong?”

“ ....when I left my wife.. ”

Izuku was always infatuated with you, your beauty, your strength, how compassionate and caring you were. He thought you were just neat. You didn't have a quirk yet like him you still made it into UA. You were pretty smart and tried hard at everything you did. He admired you for that, he watched you closely and studied you. Not in a creepy way, but in a "I'm in love with you, notice me" way.

In your second year you'd finally taken a liking towards him, he was quite cute despite his odd haircut. You understood it was due to the trouble he went through in the war, he was strong reliable and terrifyingly selfless. Izuku midoriya was a great guy and you had really liked him, the two of you started going on sweet little dates together, walking in the park sharing an ice cream, going to the movies to see whats new, going to a carnival with some friends and sneaking off alone.

Those were the days izuku wished could've lasted forever, where nothing was wrong, peace was restored and everyone was happy. But as life does. It moves on. The world changes right before tour eyes and before you know it, it's been 8 years. The two of you are still happily together in fact married now, and expecting. Izuku and you had gotten out of college a couple years ago, he became a pro and you were in charge of the Deku Foundation. A silly name for a silly little guy.

Izuku was a family guy, he didn't see his father much growing up so he knew this was what he wanted. He wanted to assure to you, the mother of his unborn child, and to his unborn child that he would be there, always and forever. He held you at night and made you breakfast in the morning, he wasn't always there to eat it with you but he made sure to leave adorable little notes for you to feel special, you kept busy doing work for his company, exercising to try and reduce stretch marks and baby weight in the future, and cooking for fun. It was hard being pregnant but it was worth it. Is what you'd say.

Izuku could never forget the moment you had his baby. Those were the absolute happiest moments in his life, no doubt about it. Watching his baby leave from your birth canal, he seen the way you screamed in agony with the final push. He was so mesmerized by it all, his wife just gave birth to his... beautiful babygirl.

“congratulations, mr and mrs midoriya, it's a girl.”

When the doctors gave you your baby, he watched closely as she stopped crying immediately at the contact of your skin, your soft voice shushing her sounds away, he pleas and cries powering down as she calmer herself. Its like you were a magical being, izuku was so enamoured with it, with you. With his new baby.

Holding her for the first time was his dream, it was even better than he could've possibly imagined. He sighed and tried to hold back tears, yet they fell asleep if a water faucet was left on, he sniffled and hiccupped as he tried to hold her closely, he took off his shirt so she could feel that skin to skin contact that babies are supposed to love. He read a book about parenting, of course the book would've been better for you to read because it was how to prepare for child birth but either way; it worked.

This moment, truly was the happiest one yet; but as life does. It moves on. And before he knew it 6 years had passed, you're beautiful babygirl was in first grade! She was making friends learning a lot and laughing and playing like kids her age should. She loved the outdoors and loved animals, she enjoyed small things like butterflies and rabbits. She was such a vibrant little girl, a splitting image from izuku too, mind the couple of genetics of yours that had shined through. Izuku loved his girls so much, watching the way you two played together, when you did her hair, read to her, his favorite thing of all was to watch you to crochet.

It was so calming, you would hold her close and show her carefully how to apply the yarn, teaching her how to swap colors smoothly and humming gently to her. Izuku watched you both closely, he's a very observant man, with that being said watching his girls was hos favorite thing to do. It's like you two were a show he could never get tired of, a program that was played just for him.

Izuku was a pro now and as much as he loved you both, he had a job to do. One that he couldn't fail, it ate him away that hr couldn't just sit with his girls all day long. Listen to little stories his baby has to share about her day at school. As much as he disliked it, he would even love to listen to his wife rant on and on about a little dream she had the other night, how the washer was in the kitchen instead of the laundry room and looked like an oven instead. Such odd dreams you had.

Izuku hadn't even realized it, but he had been spending more and more time at his agency, accidentally sleeping there and coming home 4 hours before he had to go back up there. It was tiring, he was tired, yet he had a job to do. And he wouldn't fail. You two started seeing less of him, it saddened your daughter deeply yet you tried to remind her constantly that he is a hero, and heroes have jobs to do. She would nod and give you a smile still laced with disappointment, sadness.

What really pissed you off was when he promised your little girl he'd be there for her science fair, yet didn't show. She won and everything, he promised her he'd help with making it. Whoops he couldn't do that because he was working. No matter! He apologized so you both just slid it off. However this was the last straw for you. Driving home you were furious, seeing your little girl in the mirror with a frown as she fiddled with her ribbon.

You stayed up late that night. Assuring that you'd catch him, and once you did you two argued. Which is something you'd never done, of course you two would bicker and disagree on things, but this was unlike those times. You were both yelling and had possibly woken up your daughter, but neither of you could care. Too blinded by your own fury, you had banished him and he left without a word. Without a second thought, without looking back.

“ I wish I looked back.... I wish I would've apologized, I wish I could've been there when she needed me; when they needed me... ”

That was the last time he'd seen you alive.

It was a normal day for the most part, besides the fact that you two had argued two nights before and hasn't spoken since. Izuku hadn't seen his daughter nor spoken to her either, it was eating away at him but he didn't have time to focus on that right now.. he was getting a signal from one of his sidekicks out on patrol.

“ deku! We need you! There's been an accident! There's a huge fire breathing villain who's trapped a woman and her daughter!”

A woman and her daughter.... That had to be a coincidence. It was, it had to be. Tons of people have daughters and just so happen to be women as well. Hell, he bets it's not even her daughter!!

“its- it's your wife...”

A loud scream was heard on the sidekicks line, izuku was terrified, he moved without even thinning jumping out of the nearest window zooming through the air trying to reach you. So many things going through his mind, why were you out? What were you doing? You never go out, why now! Why was his daughter there?

He was trying his damnedest to reach you, he couldn't help but feel like time was slowing down. Like he wasn't fast enough, meanwhile in actuality he was moving faster than the speed of sound. So why wasn't he there yet? He groaned in annoyance at this, he couldn't shake the terrible shrieking sound that came from the other line.. it terrified him.

“ come in! Is everything alright?! What's the situation?! ”

“i...”

“ what?! what is it, spit it out?! ”

“ I'm sorry... ”

Sorry? Sorry for what? Why the hell was he saying sorry? The only question izuku could find himself wondering. Upon arriving he sees people running, fire burning everywhere and debris filling the air, he coughed through the smoke putting on his mask and zooming through the thick fog. He found his sidekick, no wonder his voice was so hoarse and dry, he had collapsed and passed out. Izuku took him to the nearby ambulance that was present before going back through the smoke to find you.

Other heroes were arriving on scene and searching for other civilians, trying to get them out while others tried taking down the villain, he was huge and was not going down without a fight. Izuku couldn't even try to worry about the villain, you and his daughter were his main focus.

“ daddy! Please help us! ”

The sound of his daughter wailing with a cracky voice, it shattered his heart he followed the sound of crying until he found the two of you, your daughter by your side holding your arm tears falling down her reddened cheeks, she was dirty and covered and muck. She also just so happened to be covered in...blood.

“ princess... what.. what happened.. ”

His daughter ran into his arms bursting into even more tears hiccuping and sobbing. Her cries were loud and full of sadness anyone within a mile radius could tell and even hear, izuku picked you up in his arms not even taking the time to assure you were okay, not checking a pulse or to see if you were breathing. He just swooped you up in his arms bridal style and had his daughter on his back, telling her to cover her mouth. He zoomed through the smoke and handed you both over to the ambulance, they were quick to ail you both.

Izuku was soon to go help the other heroes in scene but first he looked back to you, to see them giving you air and performing CPR, his eyes widened and just as he was about to go back over to you, he tried to rush to your side before being caught by none other than..

“ deku, c'mon we need you. ”

“ kach- erm- dynamite. I can't, I have to— ”

“ come. on. ”

The fiery blonde yanked the large green haired male by his suit and dragged him back into action, he thought this was for the best. Leaving your side this last time to finish slaying this beast.

The fight was over and everyone who had been injured was taken to the nearest hospitals, the villain who had caused all of this trouble was taken into custody and was going to be behind bars for a long time. During the fight people could tell izuku was letting out pent up steam on the villain, he could've killed him. He was sure of it, everyone was. He had be pulled off in order for him to stop. You were hurt and his daughter could've gotten hurt. Izuku felt the villain deserved far much worse than to be behind bars. But at least he was rotting.

Izuku went to see you in the hospital, waiting for hours on end, pacing back and forth a million things on his mind. His daughter had been released a while ago, she was fine apart from the smoke inhalation. He couldn't believe she didn't have a single scratch on her, but he was glad and very much thankful. She sat in the nearest seat taking it easy, watching izuku pace around before finally, some news..

“ mr midoriya— ”

“ what- what's going on is my wife okay?! what's the problem, can I go and see her?? ”

“ I uhm... ahem. I'm afraid I have some bad news.. Mr midoriya. ”

Izukus expression fell, his eyes widened yet his face was completely blank. His heart dropped and completely shattered at the words the doctor said to him. His daughter immediately broke down. Tears were brimming in his eyes, he was borderline shaking in his red boots. He felt bile rising in his throat, the burning sensation making tears fall. They fell and never stopped. He held his daughter close that night. Never letting her go. He was afraid if he did... She might leave him.

....

“ I see. and how does that make you feel?”

“ ... are you seriously asking me how my dead wife makes me fucking feel. ”

“ yes. It's been 9 years, you've retired from hero work and have been seeing me for quite some time yet we never seem to talk about her. ”

Fuck... 9 years had completely flown by him. He hadn't even realized.. you'd been gone for 9 years....

“ I... I.. ”

“ your daughter will be a freshman at UA this year, correct? How does that make you feel? Have you checked in with your daughter? Have you asked how she's been? How has she coped with her mother's death? ”

Izuku was speechless. 9 years had passed, he can't seem to remember much and his daughter.. the last piece of you he has, is starting school at the very high school you two met at. Where did the time go...

AN: I'm not good at angst if you can't tell, this is a shite ending and uhm I've been feeling like shit so I hope this makes you feel shitty, but in like a good way yk? I want you to feel so hurt and sad that it makes you think 'wow.. this is some good shit right here.'

[billythesimp]

Uhmmm... Billy and Lycaon with a Therian!reader who always nonchalantly (trying to be) fixes their hair/clothes!! I honestly think that's something cute and intimate between Therians and it's low-key a confession from reader

I cackled at the thought of a Thiren grooming and fixing up Billy. My man would both love and hate it.

Neat and Tidy

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

I will apologize in advance if Von's part is longer then Billy's. After all, they are just headcanons but also I figured that Billy wouldn't know how to respond to such a thing as he's an android while Von himself is a thiren.

Also it is thiren or therian? I can never tell and I've seen both.

Billy / Lycaon x Thiren-gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none

✦ With Billy, he only gets mildly annoyed when they are combing back his hair and closing up his jacket at times because of the ‘wind’. Though he does like that they are thinking about his appearance from time to time. He is a pretty good looking mech, he takes pride in his looks from time to time so if he found out his hair was unkempt and a bit messy, he would want someone to tell him for sure. But they were starting to become overbearing in his eyes that he would pout and whine whenever they would start tending to him in public.

✦ He jumps at their touch everytime, muttering quietly that they don’t always have to be babying him from time to time and that it’s a choice, but they don’t listen at times and don’t stop until he is presting and clean. Eventually he just brushed it off as a quirk of theirs despite the fact that no one else in their team got this similar treatment. It’s not until Nekomata told him something rather odd that made him rethink everything he’d known about them. At first he didn’t understand, what did she mean by how he was so lucky that he had someone who cared so much about him to groom him often?

✦ She thought he was joking at first, but it clicked that he was just dumb and really hadn’t noticed, so she held back on telling him so he would ask them himself. He can’t help but wonder what Neko meant by that, cue the therian mentioned before coming over and tsking at Billy before scolding him about his jackets collar and keeping his cuffs even. The more they go on, he can’t help but put two and two together and start to overheat from how cute they were being all this time.

✦ Since Lycaon was a thiren himself, he knows the mannerisms of his fellow kind. They vary depending on the species but they all fit under some umbrella of shared habits. That being said, he always gets a little flustered when they come up to him and mention that his red tissue is uneven in his pocket, reaching out to fixed it along with any little thing they can get their hands on. While he could have done it himself, a small part of him loves the thought of being doted on, and so lets them do as they please before thanking them. 

✦ They do this often, helping him fix himself up before making appearances or after a job well done, having rough housed a little leaving him a little messy. And Von isn’t one to own another being, so he returns the favor by smoothing out their skirts and shirts, finding an excuse to fix their cuffs to linger his hands over theirs. The way they grow flushed and thank him which only leaves him with a hint of excitement. If he could, he would take them into his office to properly groom them but he thinks that that would be too far. Move at your pace, he thinks, though if they offer to help fluff up his tail he wouldn’t refuse. 

✦ Of course, it isn’t unusual for either of them to fix up the other girls when needed. They are often thought of as the parent figures of Victorian Housekeeping, so seeing them get along well with their little preening sessions and cute moments of fixing each other's clothing. It leaves little to the imagination as Corwin and Ellen have at least spoken about when they would come out and announce that they’re dating. And while Lycaon spends more time with them and hears about this, he can’t deny his urge to ask them out and properly court them. But he wants to hear it from them first.

[sassyjoy]

unplanned sleepover

genre: smut

word count: 1.4k

⋆｡˚ ⋆ ☾

"You can sit on my bed," Sooyoung told you upon entering her dorm room. It was quite spacious, you thought. The two beds certainly caught your attention, their neatness contrasting against the cozy disarray of the rest of the room. Posters of romcom films adorned one wall, while a whiteboard covered in colorful sketches and project ideas took up another. On the study desk, a jumble of art supplies mingled with a laptop displaying a digital design in progress. The room felt like a creative hub where the worlds of multimedia arts collided in a harmonious chaos curated by two distinct personalities.

"Do you want anything? Coffee? Juice? Water?" Sooyoung asked as she placed back her roommate's gaming chair near where it belongs.

"No, I'm good,” you replied, casting your eyes around the room, taking in the unique blend of multimedia arts influences in the shared space. You noticed a film camera on the desk and asked Sooyoung if that was hers.

"It's Wonwoo's," Sooyoung responded with a smile, gesturing towards the camera with a hint of admiration.

"Wonwoo? Oh, the guy you've been crushing about?" 

Sooyoung snorted. "That's Jaehyun, dumbass. You never really listen to my stories, don't you?" You laughed when she threw a hoodie at you in which you caught. You knew it was Jaehyun, you were just messing with her.

"Wonwoo's my roommate."

"Oh, I didn't know men and women can share the same dorm room," you said in disbelief, as you knew it was not allowed in most dormitories.

Sooyoung shrugged, unfazed. "My landlord is cool with it and besides, I don't really mind sharing the same room with the opposite sex. As long as they're clean and mindful in their space, I won't have a problem with them. And Wonwoo's really nice. He's neat. We also share the same course so we really get along with each other!" As she spoke, Sooyoung picked her pajamas from her cabinet, preparing to change into sleepwear for the night.

"Why isn't he here though?" You asked as you lay on her bed, getting comfy. The bed felt nice and soft. You noticed some polaroid pictures of Sooyoung with friends near her bedside table. It was cute to see familiar faces from your shared circle of friends since high school.

"Org duties, I guess. He said he'll be home late," she shrugged.

"I'll go get changed," Sooyoung said before heading to the bathroom. You found yourself scrolling and watching tiktok videos on your phone on her bed. It was kind of funny that despite being friends for years, it was the first time being alone together. You usually never had this chance due to various reasons.

Your stay in her dorm wasn't planned. Your car broke down, and with heavy rain outside, the mechanic couldn't come fix it. Luckily, Sooyoung's dorm was nearby. It became your refuge from the storm. Without her help, you'd be out in the cold.

~

You were sleeping in one bed with Sooyoung. It wasn't supposed to be like that but you've had sleepovers with your circle of friends before. Sleeping in one bed shouldn't be a bad thing. 

What's bad is that you're lusting over her. It shouldn't be like this. You know that yourself. 

You wished you didn't enter the bathroom earlier. If you hadn't, you wouldn't see her dirty laundry. It wasn't your fault that you saw her undies lying there. It wasn't your fault that you had the urge to pick it up and smell it. But you did pick it up and smell it. The thought of Sooyoung wearing it just turned you even more and caused tenting on your sweatpants. 

Here you are, lying on your side with your back to her. You're trying your best to fall asleep, but it seems impossible. Sooyoung, on the other side of the bed, keeps shifting and turning, making it even harder for you to find rest. You just want to get off this feeling. 

'Should I just jerk off in the bathroom?' You've been asking yourself this question for the past 30 minutes now. But the bathroom's kinda far from the bed. 

The room was dark. The only sound you could hear was the rain outside. The gentle tap-tap-tap against the window filled the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere. You're finally getting off that idea in your mind until you heard small soft whimpers. 

You changed your position, now you're facing Sooyoung. You waited for that sound again, because you thought that your mind is just messing around. Was it Sooyoung? Or maybe that was Wonwoo? Her roommate, who's sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. Nah, it won't be him. It sounded like a girl's, you thought. 

You were about to sleep when you heard something again, and this time, you were sure that it was Sooyoung. 

The room was dimly lit, but when you adjusted to the darkness you saw Sooyoung rubbing herself. The hem of her dark blue night gown lifted up to her thigh. Your heart beat went crazy, not knowing what to do.

"Ohh," she moaned quietly. You can't stop watching pleasuring herself. It's a new sight for you. You've known her for years and you never knew she has this side of hers. You were always bickering with each other but you always thought that she was all this innocent. 

You felt hot, wishing Sooyoung won't notice. 

You slightly moved, turning yourself more towards her, to watch more clearly. Sooyoung stopped for a second, scanning your face before going back to rubbing again. 

You can't help it anymore, and moved again, this time your arm flinging over to her side making sure to lightly brush her thigh before resting your arm on her stomach.

"Shit," she whispered to herself, not being able to continue anymore. You felt her try to pull your arm away but you just changed your position, your leg now brushing up to her thigh. You can feel her body heat and heaving, getting turned on even more. 

You felt her stop for a few minutes. 

She then finally rested her hand on top of yours. 

You found it cute not until she lifted your hand and put it over her wet pussy. Your eyes instantly opened, obviously shocked at what she did. Damn, she's not wearing an underwear. 

"I knew it, you're awake." She whispered, you tried to pull your hand away but she gripped it tighter. 

"Can you help me with this one? Please?" She begged as she bit her lip as she guided your hand to her cunt. You gulped. With shaky hands, you found yourself messing with the hem of her sleepwear.

'Why are you nervous? She literally asked you for this.' You thought. Sooyoung squeezed her clothed breast as she waits for your next move. You were contemplating for a second before whispering "fuck it" under your breath and placed your hand over her shaved pussy. 

You traced her vagina with your middle finger. You pressed it between her folds, finding her clit with ease. 

"Oh- fuck... this is way better than using my own fingers- god!" You watched her covering her mouth with her own hands, feeling the sensation you've been giving her. For some reason, you liked how's this going. 

You circled her clit. You can feel how warm and wet she have had become. Sooyoung was trying so hard not to make a noise when you added another finger inside her. Her breathing became heavy and a little unsteady. You placed your other arm underneath her to pull her body closer to you. 

"Does it feel good, Sooyoung?" You whispered in her ear that earned you a grip on your forearm. 

"Feels so good," she croaked. The rain was too loud. Wonwoo won't probably hear what's happening between you two, right?

You placed soft kisses on the side of her neck as you increased the pace of your fingers. You can feel her body wriggle from the pleasure. You loved how every time you went deeper, her grip on you got tighter. 

"Just like that," she whispered. You kept hitting the spot she could barely reach with her own fingers. Sooyoung arched her back, palming her tits as she grinds against your fingers, trying to reach that delicious high she's been aching to have. Her breath quickens as you hit the spot inside her, your fingers scissoring her tight hole. 

"Ohhh," then she exploded. Sooyoung's cum wets your fingers. It took her a minute to calm down. You caressed her thighs as you wait for her to calm down from how she fell apart from the build-up you managed to give her.

"You owe me one," you told her, whispering in her ear while still stroking her soft skin. 

[sl-ut]

sweet dreams

ended up having a baby dream during my nap and thought it would be a v cute burb concept for my sweet cliches series

set in this universe!

abby noticed that something was wrong with her girlfriend almost immediately after she returned from her morning run. she had, of course, left quite early and had been very careful not to wake her cranky pants gf up, but started questioning what she might have done to piss her off already when they hadn't even truly spoken a word.

y/n was in the kitchen when she got back, mixing herself an iced coffee and barely even responding to abby as she came over to kiss her good morning. abby shrugged it off, thinking she was still too tired, but when she rejected her invite to join her in the shower????? that's when she knew something was up.

she spent fifteen minutes in the shower, taking the extra time under the piping hot water to think it over. she knew it wasn't about her leaving a mess before she left; abby was the neat freak in the relationship, so it was usually her getting annoyed by clutter, not the other way around. they'd been on good terms last night, they had even found time in both of their busy schedules that allowed them some spare time to get it on...was it not good? abby thought she'd seen the telltale signs- the whimpers, the heaving chest, the swelling nail marks on her back... she'd never seen y/n fake it before, so she wasn't sure what she wasn't picking up on. unless... what if she had only ever seen her fake it???

then abby goes into panic mode. she finishes her routine as quick as she can (under ten minutes, our low maintenance queen!) and rushes out to find her girl curled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, not even glancing her at abby as she took up the space next to her.

"what's going on in that pretty head of yours? and don't say nothing."

the girl frowned before she stubbornly responded, "nothing."

"did i do something wrong?"

"no."

"then what's the matter? i don't like to see you so down."

"it's stupid."

abby scooted closer, pulling her girl onto her lap, "i could never think that anything to do with you is stupid. please tell me."

"fine, but you have to promise you won't laugh."

abby rolled her pretty blue eyes, "on my own life, i promise i won't laugh."

the girl let out a deep sigh before she mumbled something under her breath.

"gonna need you to speak up for me there, baby."

"i had a dream that i was pregnant and then i had our baby, and we lived in a cute little house with a dog and we were so happy..." she sniffled, "and then i woke up and none of it was real."

abby was silent for a moment before a small smile and chuckle began to crack through her forced serious expression.

"abby!" y/n slapped her arm when she finally broke out in full laughter, "you promised!"

"i'm sorry baby," she held her tighter to her chest to keep her from moving away and began to rock her, "i'm sorry. that was just so cute, if i didn't laugh i was gonna cry."

"i miss our baby."

abby was in her last year of med school, and thanks to her big beautiful brain (and her trust fund), she was remotely debt free. the two had already discussed their plans to start looking for a house in a nice neighbourhood as soon as abby graduated and got a permanent placement somewhere, but the discussion of kids had sort of been sidelined up until now.

the blonde shook her head, "i can't wait to meet our baby. just give me a year, and then we'll start making that dream come true."

y/n beamed with happiness, curling into her girlfriend's beefy arms, "i can't wait to carry your baby."

"trust me," abby chuckled, "i can't wait to put a baby in you. i bet i'll get it to stick first try, but i'm all about consistency. i'm thinking five nights a week minimum."

both girls giggled at abby's joke, snuggling closer together in a peaceful silence before y/n finally spoke up once more.

"abs... you know you can't actually get me pregnant, right? i mean, you're in medical school for god's sake."