#imagining them just sitting outside the cabin waiting for it

[weneedatdcharacterwho]

we need a td character who tries to get a pizza delivered but fails

.

[heathermason6060]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get those windows boarded up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your voice broke the long streak of silence.

“Are we gonna have to stay here tonight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything was better than your soaking rags.

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

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

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

“Yeah, well. Neither can I.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ooookay, fuck you.”

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

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

No other reason, promise.

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled, glancing over at Daryl.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you whimpered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was only twelve forty-five.

You sighed.

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

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

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

He was hard.

Like, really hard.

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

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

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

Maybe he wasn't awake.

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

Rick's grip tightened on your hip.

Then he pushed into you.

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

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

“Stay still.”

Your eyes flicked to Daryls face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could've screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Movin’ too much. Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That self disgust faded when Rick pushed into you.

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

You moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes shot open.

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

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

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

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

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

Much to Rick's absolute heart-stopping horror.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Touch me, please.”

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

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

He just wasn't good at sharing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your orgasm came screeching out of nowhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was so sweet it made your heart ache.

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

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

“What we did-”

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “Alright. You got it.”

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

“Pst.”

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

“Hi.” You smiled after approaching him.

“You okay?”

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

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

“He's fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[surielstea]

First Impressions

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rhys is a bumbling buffoon when it comes to meeting his mate for the first time.

Warnings: awkward tension, reader lives in the hewn city

A.Note: not totally proud of this one since it’s hard for me to write first meeting stories with a concluding ending, but I hope you guys enjoy :)

Word count: 4.8k words

The scratching at my door had me sitting up in an instant, my back pressing against the cold stone wall as my hand slid beneath my pillow, fingers curling around the worn hilt of my dagger. My breath came shallow, controlled, as I listened—waiting for another sound, another shift in the air that might give away whoever had decided to test their luck tonight.

Life in the Hewn City never allowed for restful sleep. Not when shadows slithered in every alley when cruelty pulsed like a second heartbeat through its streets. And especially not now that Morrigan was gone.

Her father's estate had been far from a sanctuary, but at least the sheer power Keir wielded had kept the worst of the monsters at bay. Here, in my apartment on the outskirts of town, I had no such protection. Only thin walls, shattered locks, and neighbors who wouldn't need a reason to break into a young female's bedroom—who wouldn't care that I was High Fae, not when my magic was little more than a flickering candle in the wind.

A shiver danced down my spine as I gripped my dagger tighter, pulling it free just as the handle of my door twisted. My breath stilled.

Wards should have held. I'd watched Mor herself etch them into the worn wood, her golden power laced with every careful stroke. And yet the door creaked open, the darkness beyond bleeding into my already shadowed room.

I made myself as small as possible, the blanket of night cloaking me enough to fool a drunk—most in this wretched place were—but if they stepped inside if they came closer...

A head popped through the gap.

Gold hair caught the dim light.

My breath punched from my lungs. "Morrigan."

I tumbled out of bed, my dagger forgotten as I all but threw myself at her. She caught me effortlessly, her arms wrapping tight around my waist, solid and real, her familiar scent washing over me.

"Oh, I've missed you," she murmured, holding me as if she'd been gone for years rather than two unbearable weeks.

I pulled back just enough to take her in, my hands framing her face, my eyes darting over her features, searching for any sign of injury. My stomach knotted at the gauze wrapped around her waist, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed.

"I thought you got out safe?" I whispered.

She smirked. "Forgot some things."

There was something reckless in her eyes, something sharp and unyielding.

My stomach tightened further. "Mor—"

"I'm getting you out of here."

Her grin was edged with mischief, with certainty.

—

I had heard the rumors—the hushed whispers exchanged between patrons in dimly lit taverns, drunken murmurs of a secret city our High Lord kept hidden from the rest of us. A place untouched by the cruelty of the Hewn City, a myth spun to keep fools hopeful.

I never believed a word of it.

But Velaris was real.

"The City of Starlight," Morrigan had said, her voice breathless with something I hadn't seen in her since we were reckless, ignorant children. She'd smiled then—wild, unguarded. And I had known, in that moment, that every whispered legend had been true.

The city thrived even in the late hour. Laughter and music curled through the streets, golden lights casting soft glows against dark stone. I had never dreamed a place like this could exist, not outside of bedtime stories and half-formed wishes. And yet, Mor guided me through its winding paths as if it were the most natural thing in the world, showing me pieces of the Night Court I had never dared to imagine.

Until, finally, she led me to a small cabin at the edge of a quiet clearing.

Warm light spilled from its windows, shadows dancing against the wood as the hum of conversation and bursts of laughter leaked into the night. It was a thrilling sound—carefree, safe.

Mor stepped onto the porch, her fingers curling around my wrist as she turned back to me with a smirk. "I've been living here for the past few weeks," she hummed, as if it were no great thing. "And I decided I missed my roommate."

Her words barely registered over the clatter of voices inside. I could hear the easy teasing, the playful shouts.

I hesitated.

"It's Rhysand's cabin, but—"

"The High Lord's?" I whirled on her, my stomach clenching.

Mor blinked, as if I'd said something absurd. "He's my cousin, you know?"

I did know that. Of course I did. But the knowledge didn't stop the shiver that traced my spine.

I had seen Rhysand twice in my life—twice was enough.

Both times, I had been convinced I would die right there on the spot, crushed beneath the weight of his power. It exuded from him like a second set of wings, dark and monstrous. The ground itself seemed to quake beneath his steps. To say he was powerful was an insult to the very meaning of the word. He was terror incarnate, the nightmare that lived in the dark corners of every court.

I had heard the stories—of him reaching into minds and shattering them from the inside out, twisting their own fears into weapons sharper than any blade. He did not need to lift a hand to kill.

My throat went dry. "He's not in there, is he?"

The words were barely a whisper, but Mor only shrugged, far too casual. "Sure he is."

I nearly choked. What?

"Mor—"

She didn't give me a chance to protest.

Her fingers curled around mine, firm and unwavering, and before I could think to dig in my heels, she had pulled me forward—up the steps, through the doorway, past the foyer—until I was standing in the heart of the house.

The moment we entered, the conversation stopped.

Four sets of eyes locked onto me.

Hazel. Silver.

And then—

A violet gaze, piercing and unrelenting, dilated with something unreadable.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Rhysand.

The High Lord of Night. The male who could level entire armies with a flick of his wrist, who could peel apart minds like flower petals and leave nothing behind. The nightmare whispered about in every corner of the Hewn City.

And he was staring at me.

His lips parted slightly, as if words had caught in his throat.

Mor, of course, was entirely unaffected. "Gentlemen," she said, grinning as she strode deeper into the sitting room. "And Amren."

The silver-eyed female merely flicked a gaze over Mor before cutting straight to me, a sharp, assessing glance that made my stomach twist.

I was still trying to school my expression into something other than imminent death panic when Mor gave my wrist a final squeeze and released me.

"I'd like you all to meet—"

"She's my mate."

Silence.

Utter, perfect silence.

Then—

A choked sound came from the male lounging in an armchair, wings draped lazily over its sides. He had dark hair, hazel eyes gleaming with delight, and an unmistakable aura of shit-eating amusement. That one must be Cassian.

Next to him, another male, shadows curled at his feet like living things, merely blinked—slowly, deliberately—before glancing at Rhys and murmuring, "That was subtle." And there's Azriel.

Rhys, for all his legendary cunning, looked like he wanted to launch himself into the Sidra.

"Mate?" I rasped, my stomach flipping over itself.

No. No, surely not. That was—impossible. I would've felt something.

Or have I all along?

"You must forgive our dear High Lord," Amren drawled, sipping from a glass of something dark. "He usually has more tact when announcing these things."

Rhys finally seemed to snap back into his body, straightening his spine with something like composed horror.

"What I meant to say," he amended, his voice dropping into something far smoother, far silkier—too smooth as if he were compensating, "is that it's a pleasure to meet you."

Cassian snorted. "You just said she was your mate."

"Yes, thank you, Cassian."

Azriel's lips twitched. "I think she got the message."

My head was spinning, my throat tight. But my body had stilled—not from fear, exactly, but from something else. Something coiling in my chest, something aware.

Rhys's gaze flicked to mine, and his expression softened instantly, all humor melting into something devastatingly gentle.

"It's late. You must be exhausted." His voice had dipped, his usual charm tempered with something achingly sincere. "Let me get you something to eat. Or drink. Or—are you warm enough? I can get you a blanket—"

Cassian was shaking with silent laughter. Azriel merely watched, like he was filing this away for later use.

Amren, however, had no such patience. "Oh, for Cauldron's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "She's not a wounded animal, Rhysand, stop circling her like a mother hen."

"I just want her to be comfortable," he argued, flashing her a glare before turning back to me with something so devastatingly earnest that I nearly forgot who he was. What he was.

He liked me.

No—he wanted me to like him.

Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord in history, was tripping over himself to win my favor.

And somehow, that was more terrifying than any of the rumors I'd ever heard.

—

I wasn't entirely sure how I ended up sitting on a plush couch in the middle of the High Lord's cabin, wrapped in a ridiculously soft blanket that I didn't remember agreeing to. A cup of tea—also not requested—was placed carefully in my hands, steam curling in the dim candlelight.

Rhysand hovered nearby.

And I meant hovered.

He was standing at an awkward, not-quite-close, not-quite-far distance, shifting slightly as if debating whether he should sit or stand or vanish into the floor. His normally easy, fluid grace had been utterly abandoned, leaving him looking... well. Uncertain.

Cassian, sprawled in the armchair across from me, was barely keeping it together. His wings twitched every few seconds, his lips pressed tightly as if physically holding in his laughter.

Azriel, seated beside him, was far more composed—but the slight upward tilt of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

I took a sip of my tea, trying to make sense of all this.

The High Lord of the Night Court—the terror of the Hewn City, the most powerful male in existence—had declared me his mate. And then proceeded to fall apart before my very eyes.

I was still trying to process it when Rhys spoke.

"Would you like more pillows?"

I blinked. "What?"

His violet eyes were very, very wide. "You look like you could use more pillows."

Cassian made a strangled noise.

Azriel coughed into his fist.

"I—I'm fine," I said slowly, watching as Rhys's shoulders sagged in relief.

Too fast. All of this was happening too fast, I couldn't keep up.

"Are you sure? Because I can get more."

Cassian let out a wheezing breath, eyes shining with unrestrained delight. "Yes, Rhys. More pillows. That's definitely what she needs."

Rhys shot him a withering glare before turning back to me, smoothing his expression into something intended to be charming, but coming across as deeply, deeply desperate.

"Or food!" he blurted. "Have you eaten? I can make you something. Or, well, I can't make you something, but I can get someone to—"

"She has tea, Rhys," Amren cut in dryly. "You shoved it into her hands two minutes ago."

"I did not shove—"

"You definitely shoved," Cassian confirmed, barely containing his cackle. "I thought you were going to spill boiling tea all over your mate."

I flinch slightly at the term as Rhys shoots back with, "I was being thoughtful."

Azriel hummed, taking a slow sip of his own drink, the amber color telling me it was something much stronger than tea. "Is that what we're calling it?"

I had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this.

Rhysand—the charmer, the schemer, the legend—was unraveling at the seams in front of me.

Because of me.

"I can make my own food," I finally said, mostly just to say something.

Rhys visibly straightened. "Of course! Yes, I knew that. I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, his usual ease nowhere to be found. "I want you to feel at home."

Cassian grinned. "I think she'd feel more at home if you stopped looming over her like a lovesick bat."

Rhys's glare could have melted stone.

Azriel just leaned back in his chair, shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this," he mused.

Rhys turned his attention back to me, clearly trying to regain some dignity. He attempted one of his infamous smirks. "You must forgive them. They're not used to seeing me flustered."

Cassian clapped a hand to his chest, eyes sparkling. "Oh, it's a gift, truly."

Azriel nodded solemnly. "We should savor this moment."

Rhys looked seconds away from throttling them both.

I just stared at him, still gripping the cup of tea like it was the only solid thing in the world. "Are you okay?" I asked before I could stop myself.

His breath caught.

And for a moment, the amusement, the chaos—it all faded. His eyes softened, something raw flickering behind them.

"I'm fine," he said, voice lower now, steadier. "I just... I wasn't expecting this."

Neither was I. But still, something shifted in my chest at the way he looked at me—like I was something precious.

I wasn't ready to name that feeling.

But for the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't feel like running.

Slowly—mercifully—Rhys seemed to remember how to function again.

He settled into the chair across from me, still watching me with those impossibly violet eyes, but at least he wasn't hovering like I might vanish if he so much as blinked.

Not that he'd relaxed entirely.

No, because the moment I so much as shifted—adjusting the blanket, setting my tea down—he twitched as if preparing to leap to his feet and fix something.

If I asked for anything, I had no doubt he'd be up and fetching it before I could even finish the sentence.

But at least he was sitting.

Amren, on the other hand, was done with the entire situation.

With a long-suffering sigh, she stood and stretched. "Alright. That's enough of this."

Cassian perked up. "Of what?"

She shot him a withering look. "The two of you sitting here, watching this disaster unfold like it's a theatrical event."

Cassian grinned, utterly unrepentant. "Oh, but it is."

Azriel just sipped his whiskey, but the small smirk on his lips said everything.

Amren turned her glare to them both, then pointed at the door. "Out."

Cassian gaped. "But—"

"Out," she repeated, already making her way toward him.

Cassian barely had time to dodge before she grabbed his arm, yanking him up with surprising strength for someone so small. "Azriel, move," she barked.

Azriel, for all his shadows and lethal grace, barely managed to stifle a chuckle before obeying.

Rhys, looking very much like a male clinging to the last shred of his dignity, just sighed. "Amren, I hardly think—"

"Oh, please." She shot him a knowing look. "You want them gone."

Rhys opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced—too quickly—at me.

Cassian cackled. "Oh, this is so good."

"I hate all of you," Rhys muttered.

Cassian just grinned, throwing an arm over Azriel's shoulder as Amren shoved them both toward the door. "Love you too, brother!"

The door shut behind them then silence settled.

I exhaled slowly, my mind still spinning from all of this—this place, these people, Rhysand, sitting before me and looking as though he didn't quite know what to do with himself.

Mor, still seated beside me, gave a soft, reassuring smile. "Ignore them," she said. "They're menaces, but they mean well."

I nodded, unsure what to say.

She nudged me gently. "You doing okay?"

I hesitated.

Then, quietly, "I think so."

Mor's smile warmed. "Good." She stood, stretching. "I'm just down the hall if you need anything, okay?"

I nodded again. "Thanks, Mor."

She winked. "Get some rest."

And then, just like that, I was alone. With Rhysand.

Who, despite his best attempts to seem relaxed, looked about two seconds away from combusting.

The silence stretched for a beat too long before Rhys cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "So," he started, voice smoother now, steadier, "what do you think of Velaris?"

I exhaled, my grip loosening on the blanket around my shoulders as I glanced toward the window. The city lights still twinkled beyond the glass, mirroring the stars above.

"It's..." I searched for the right word. Magnificent."

His lips curved. "It is." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Not what you expected?"

A soft huff of breath left me. "In all honesty, I didn't even expect it to be real."

Rhys chuckled, low and warm. "Most don't."

I looked back at him. "How long has it been hidden?"

His expression turned thoughtful. "Since the war." His gaze flickered to the window, a distant look in his eyes. "My family—my court—has fought to protect it for centuries. It's the one place in all of Prythian untouched by war, by cruelty." He met my gaze again, and this time, there was something softer there. "Now it's yours, too."

Something shifted in my chest at that. The way he said it like I belonged here. I swallowed. "And the court?"

His smile returned, easy and knowing. "You've already met the worst of them."

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "I don't believe that."

"Oh, you should." He smirked. "Cassian and Azriel? Winged buffoons. Mor? Chaos incarnate." He placed a hand on his chest, feigning solemnity. "And me? Well, the stories you've heard don't paint me in the best light, do they?"

A teasing edge now, that sharp, clever humor creeping into his voice.

I tilted my head. "No, they don't."

He grinned, but it softened as he glanced back outside. "You'll see for yourself, though." He hesitated, then added, "You'll be here for Starfall."

"Starfall?"

His eyes lit up, and suddenly, it was as if the shadows in the room no longer existed.

"You've never heard of it?"

I shook my head.

Rhys leaned closer, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial, enticing. "Once a year, the sky does something extraordinary."

I raised a brow, peering out the large arched window to look at the galaxy of stars just outside. "More extraordinary than usual?"

A chuckle. "Much more." He sat back again, watching me with a quiet sort of delight, as if he already knew I'd love it. "The stars don't just shine that night. They fall."

I blinked. "They fall?"

"Mmm." He traced a circle on the arm of his chair. "Not like shooting stars—though it looks similar. The souls of long-lost beings drift across the sky, shimmering trails left in their wake. It's..." He trailed off, searching for the word.

"Magnificent?" I supplied, unable to help the small smile tugging at my lips.

Rhys gave a slow, approving nod. "Very."

Something warm settled in my chest. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

And then, finally, I allowed myself to really look at him.

Not the High Lord. Not the nightmare. Just Rhysand.

And gods, he was handsome.

The kind of handsome that made the room feel smaller, the air feel warmer. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, those impossibly violet eyes that seemed to catch every flicker of candlelight. And the way he looked at me—like I was something precious. Like he already knew me, in some deep, unspoken way.

I cleared my throat, shoving away the thought. "It sounds magical."

He grinned, and for the first time, it wasn't the grin of a High Lord, or a male who held the power of nightmares in his hands.

It was just a smile. For me.

A slight yawn slipped from me, Rhys was instantly moving.

"Mother above, I've kept you up too late—" He was already leading me toward the hall, his steps brisk, his hands half-lifted as if he wanted to guide me but thought better of it.

I barely had time to keep up as he strode toward a door across from Mor's, gesturing to it like it was some grand reveal. "This is yours—of course, if you don't like it, we can find you another room, or a different house entirely, or—"

"Rhys—"

"I really should have let you rest earlier, I can be insufferable when I ramble, and—"

"Rhys."

"I hope you find everything comfortable, but if you need anything—extra pillows, a softer mattress, a different view—"

I pressed my palm to his chest. He froze.

His breath hitched, just barely—but I felt it beneath my hand, the sharp inhale, the slight stutter of his heartbeat.

His eyes locked onto mine, the violet darkening, blazing.

I had only meant to stop his spiraling apologies, but now... Now the air between us was thick with tension.

Something unseen curled and tightened, coiling like a living thing beneath my skin.

Rhys exhaled sharply through his nose. Slowly—reverently—his hand lifted, covering mine where it lay over his chest. His fingers curled just enough to hold me there, as if... as if he couldn't bear to let go.

Something between us shifted and I didn't have time to decide if it was for the better or not.

A pull, deep in my ribs. An ache that hadn't been there before.

Rhys went completely still.

Like he was waging some great internal war, fighting against a force that neither of us had yet spoken aloud. But I felt it.

The way his fingers tightened just slightly over mine. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something, only to think better of it.

The way his eyes—those star-flecked, devastatingly beautiful eyes—searched mine like they held the answer to something he'd been waiting for.

I should have stepped back.

I should have moved.

Instead, I stood there, heart pounding, fingers twitching against the soft fabric of his tunic.

Rhys swallowed, his throat working around the motion, but he said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling beneath my palm, his fingers flexing ever so slightly over mine like he was grounding himself—like he needed to hold on. I knew I should step back.

We had only just met.

Yet that fact seemed irrelevant, insignificant compared to the weight of the moment curling between us, thick as smoke.

Because I could feel it—something pulling me toward him, that bond deeper than attraction, sharper than longing. It was in the way his breath came uneven, in the way his gaze dropped, just briefly, to my lips before snapping back up to my eyes, a flicker of something raw, something wanting, breaking through his carefully placed walls.

His lips parted, like he might say something. Like he might stop this before it went too far.

I didn't let him. Didn't give myself the chance to second-guess, to think, to reason.

I surged forward.

Rhys barely had time to exhale before my lips met his. Soft. That was my first thought—how soft his lips were, warm and parting against mine as if in stunned surrender.

And then he was kissing me back.

A sharp inhale, his hand sliding up my wrist, curling around it like he couldn't quite believe this was happening—but wouldn't dare let go, either.

His other hand found my waist, light, hesitant, his fingers pressing in just enough to ground me, to anchor us both in the storm of whatever this was.

It wasn't desperate. It wasn't hurried. It was slow, tentative, a gentle exploration.

His nose brushed mine as he tilted his head, his lips parting wider, and I felt the way he breathed me in—like I was something to be savored, something he hadn't known he was starving for until now.

A small sound left me—something between a sigh and a whimper—and Rhys shuddered, his grip tightening ever so slightly, his fingertips pressing into my skin like he needed to remind himself this was real.

We lingered there, caught in something we didn't have a name for, something neither of us had expected but couldn't seem to pull away from.

His thumb brushed along my wrist, slow, reverent, as our lips moved together in a rhythm that felt achingly natural.

Like we had done this a thousand times before. Like we would do it a thousand times more.

When we finally parted, it was only enough to breathe, our foreheads pressing together, breaths mingling.

Rhys's fingers flexed at my waist.

"I—" His voice was hoarse, rough with something unspoken. He swallowed. "We should stop."

I exhaled shakily, my hands still fisting the fabric of his tunic.

"We should," I admitted.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles along my wrist, like he was memorizing the shape of me, the feel of me.

And then, softer—softer than I'd ever heard anyone speak my name—

"But I don't want to."

I barely had time to whisper, "Neither do I," before he kissed me again.

His lips were still on mine, still moving, still taking, even as he rasped against my mouth, "We can't."

But he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.

If anything, his hands tightened at my waist, fingers pressing into my skin like he was anchoring himself—like he was fighting a losing battle against whatever force was unraveling between us.

I gasped as his tongue slid against mine, slow and thorough, like he was trying to memorize me, like he was desperate to learn every piece of me with nothing more than his lips, his hands, his breath.

"Rhys," I whispered, not knowing if it was meant to be a plea or a warning.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against mine, his breath coming out in short, uneven pants.

"I want to know you," he said, his voice so raw, so gutted that it sent a shiver down my spine.

Then his lips were on mine again, harder, deeper, like he was proving it, like he needed me to believe him.

"I want to know everything," he murmured against my mouth, between kisses that left me gasping, left me trembling, my fingers still tangled in his hair. Another kiss, this one rougher, hungrier. "Everything."

I whimpered against his lips, barely able to think, barely able to breathe with the way he was consuming me, the way his words were carving themselves into my ribs.

He groaned, like the sound was being ripped from him. "I—" He shuddered. "Tell me to stop."

I froze beneath him, blinking up at him, my head spinning, my lips swollen from his kisses.

He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven, his hands flexing at my sides.

"Tell me to stop," he repeated, voice ragged, "because I don't think I can on my own."

His words hung between us, raw and trembling, his breath fanning against my lips. I could still taste him, still feel the imprint of his hands at my sides, as if he had branded himself into my very skin. My heart pounded against my ribs, my body warring between the pull of the bond and the sliver of hesitation curling in my chest.

I slipped my hands from his hair, brushing my fingers along his jaw, feeling the tension coiled beneath his skin. "Rhys," I whispered, my voice barely a breath.

His eyes, dark and blazing with emotion, searched mine. I saw the restraint there, the war he was fighting within himself, the way his hands trembled against my sides.

I swallowed, forcing myself to find the words through the haze of want clouding my mind. "I'll accept the bond," I murmured. His breath hitched, his entire body going utterly still. "I just need some time."

A heartbeat passed. Then another. And then—he exhaled, his forehead pressing against mine, his entire frame shuddering. His hands skimmed up my sides, gentle now, reverent, like he was memorizing every inch of me before letting go.

"You could take centuries," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple, featherlight. "Beyond that, if you wanted. I'd wait for you, always."

Something in my chest ached, something too big to name. I closed my eyes, breathing him in, the warmth of him, the endless patience laced in every word.

I tilted my head up, pressing the softest of kisses against his lips—nothing like the desperate, fevered ones from before. Just a promise. Just a thank you.

His hands lingered on my waist, like he wasn't quite ready to let go, but he didn't stop me as I pulled away. A small smile tugged at my lips. "Goodnight, Rhys."

His eyes softened, something almost wistful in them. "Goodnight, my love."

With a final glance, I turned and slipped into my room, closing the door behind me. And even then, I could still feel him—like a shadow, like a promise—waiting.

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[kedsandtubesocks]

fire starter

Dragon!Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

summary: there’s a creature lurking behind your family’s lake cabin, but what will you do when it decides to start following you around?

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes #MONSTERSMASH24 challenge

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, human/monster relationship, magic transformation & magic elements, mention of drug consumption, one brief scare of possible animal attack, smutty thoughts, monster!smut, voyeurism/consensual voyeurism , masturbation (f), scent kink, oral (f receiving), mentions of mating, light size kink, monster!dick humping, no use of y/n, sweet & chaotic!Dieter

word count: 4.5k

a/n: so yeah I can’t believe I wrote this & I’M SO SORRY for posting it on the very last day of the challenge (pls forgive me) but here are are lol omg biggest thank you to @hauntedhowlett & @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream about this, and to you, if you decide to read this, thank you so much ♡

The cozy cabin would be your home for the next few weeks during your break away from school before the new semester starts. You needed to get away, clear your head. It’s why your mom suggested taking a nice trip away to the family cabin your grandparents owned. Now the solitude, the comfort of the lake and the forest, all of it sounds healing.

Your luggage still sits inside and the place needs to be cleaned up a bit… but you happily stand on the patio looking out to glimmering water. The lake’s reflective dance and the stretching forest off to the side cloaking the cabin in a rustic dream make you exhale comforted.

Until sudden rustling comes off to the side among the bushes. Your eyes flicker, rapidly scanning the area.

“Beware of bears!” Your grandpa had joked on the phone, but he’s right. The wilderness held dangerous creatures.

You just never assumed a mythical beast would be one of them.

A dragon slowly lifts its head up from behind a shrub, and you wonder if you’re imagining things. A piece of you even thinks this is maybe a bad internet trend or prank video you’re caught in.

The dragon is beautiful with sleek horns. The scales shimmer a unique rustic ash color. But now with the hints of sunlight leaking through the trees the color on the scales become almost reflective of a duo chrome peacock green. The unflinching sharp eyes blinking at you are a deep tiger's eye gem brown.

“Don’t scream.” A voice suddenly says and you realize -

It’s the dragon talking.

“Is this a prank?” You blurt out worried about possibly being on a bad TikTok.

“If it is, it would be a really fucking good prank now that I think about it.” The dragon’s mouth barely moves, but you know it’s him speaking.

His voice is clearly human, smooth and aware.

“That’s a good animatronic then.” You nervously comment.

“I’m not an animatronic!” The dragon huffs even flaring his eyes upset. “I’m a real man! Or… dragon fuck. This is confusing.”

Slowly, you walk cautiously and backwards back to the cabin door.

“No wait!” The dragon rushes out of the bushes and the rest of his body follows revealing an intimidating creature, including a tail flickering nervously.

It seems real, doesn’t seem like a puppet, and you think something that moves this fluid can’t possibly be some robot left in the woods.

“I’m Dieter fucking Bravo. You gotta help me!” His voice becomes panicked, louder, scaring you.

You scramble back into the cabin, slam the door and try settling down. Because there possibly might be a real dragon outside your door.

After that you stay locked inside the cabin, almost afraid to move.

You swear soft whines come from outside the window, but you refuse to check and possibly find monster eyes gleaming out from the woods.

Once you’re calmed, you remember what the creature said.

The dragon yelled that he was Dieter Bravo. And the name sounds vaguely familiar.

So grabbing your phone, you start googling.

The news rushes in, bombarding you.

Oscar Winner Dieter Bravo Still Missing

You click the first article.

“Dieter Bravo is an eccentric man to say the least. But after two months with no communication to even his agents, people are now starting to get worried…”

No fucking way.

The more you deep dive, the more you become entangled in this web of the missing actor.

There’s even conspiracy theories arguing he was abducted by aliens.

“No guys he’s just filming that new marvel movie remember” someone comments on the YouTube video you watch.

That creature said he was Dieter Bravo. You can’t wrap your mind around the possibility the beast is the same man.

So the next morning, when the sun barely peeks through the clouds, you step outside. You glance around finding no sign of the dragon.

Even getting braver you walk off the patio and check around the cabin.

“Can I have some of whatever you cooked yesterday cause it smelled fucking amazing.”

You almost scream hearing the sudden inquisitive and smooth voice. The dragon’s snout peeks out from behind a thicket of trees, and sharp inquisitive eyes intently stare you down.

“You said you’re Dieter Bravo.” You demand surprisingly firm.

“It’s ‘cause I am!” He urges franticly, now whipping his full head up to stare at you. It’s a mind melt having a full on discussion with a dragon.

“What if you just ate him?” You narrow your eyes, still not convinced.

The dragon shrieks insulted and raises its head up more.

“I didn’t! Unless you count the times I bite my lip and swallow the dead skin or whatever!”

Soon the dragon starts listing off facts like Dieter’s birthday, the secret tattoo he has on his ass, he even says who his agent’s name is. It’s all rather convincing.

“Look,” he sighs, annoyed and lowers his head. “I was staying at one of the luxury cabins way the fuck past the hiking trails and wandered away… then I found some magic looking mushrooms by a tree and-”

“You ate unknown mushrooms from the forest?!” You interject sharp.

“They looked really good!” He whines. “And how was I to know they were actually real fucking magic mushrooms that would turn me into this?!” The dragon whips its scaled tail around to emphasize his point.

You almost get knocked off your feet.

So this dragon really is actor Dieter Bravo.

“How have you stayed hidden this long?” You ask stunned.

“Cause I’m a pro champion winner of hide and seek, duh.” He scoffs proud. “Plus there’s an abandoned bear cave I’ve started renting, and nobody has been out here for weeks.”

“That is until you showed up.” The dragon nudges towards you.

“So can you help me!? Please?” He quickly whimpers, staring up at you like a cat trying to plead for treats.

“How am I supposed to help you?!” You fire back confused.

“I don’t fucking know! But you’re the first person I’ve actually talked to in two months, and I just can’t think straight anymore!” He sobs dramatically, flinging his body onto the dirt forest floor now almost mimicking a toddler throwing a small tantrum.

“Listen, I almost had to eat a fucking possum you gotta help me!” Dieter continues to wail, and you shush him from drawing attention.

“Fine! I’ll try to help!” You agree hastily.

Before you can say anything, the dragon, no - Dieter, rushes forward and you almost scream.

He’s around the size of a large truck. Seeing such a large creature, a deadly one at that, rushing towards you activates a primordial fear.

Until his large face presses against your stomach.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” He cries excessively.

“I’ll give you whatever you want! Take you to Oscar parties! Do you wanna meet like, fucking Hugh Jackman or someone else I think I can make that happen?!” His joy and relief are tangible in his rambling.

You laugh nervously, but feel more at ease.

And so a dragon follows you home.

He waits outside the cabin because he is too big to fully fit inside. But Dieter stays surprisingly close, even presses his nose against the window as if he’s a sad stray wanting to be let in.

Now you enjoy meals outside with him most days.

“So what brings a hottie like yourself to a creepy cabin in the woods?” He asks when you sit outside with him and almost choke on an inhale.

However, you do explain how this place is your grandparents and you’re simply staying here on a small break.

“Ah, a mini mental health retreat,” he says sagely, nodding his dragon head. “I dig it.”

That makes you grin.

A sort of ridiculousness bubbles in you whenever you google and search up websites about breaking spells or curses. But you have to believe a remedy, or something like it, exists especially when tangible magic now sits curled right beside you. Dieter’s head rests against your thigh while he breathes in and out with a steady rumble. The soft sunlight allows the delicate shimmer of his scales to dance beautifully.

You glance down to the dragon sleeping peacefully.

Dieter grew close to you instantly. You also hate to admit how fast you’ve bonded to him. He’s wildly easy to talk to and pretty funny. When you take walks by the lake he trots right besides you, not even bothered about being seen.

“If I wasn’t so worried about the government or aliens shooting me down or carrying me off to some sketchy ass lab, I’d take us flying.” Dieter comments one evening when you decide to simply enjoy the cool evening and shimmering stars above.

To prove a point, the dragon spreads open his wings to stretch them. They’re glorious, bat-like in their structure and towering over you in a mythical shade. You feel so small compared to him, but in a way that comforts you, almost like standing against the grandeur of many redwood trees.

“Honestly I don’t think you’d be that good a pilot anyway even as a dragon.” You tease.

He scoffs horrified. “Excuse me! I played a pilot in a Grey’s Anatomy episode. So I know how flying fucking works!”

You burst out laughing, buoyant.

You begin wondering if maybe Dieter imprinted on you, but realization creeps in that you’ve maybe done the same to him.

On warmer days when you want to enjoy the lake, you wait until the dragon wakes so you both can enjoy the water.

You jokingly tell him he looks like the lochness monster as he swims.

“Nessie’s got nothing on me.” Dieter huffs.

Then, he playfully swishes his tail in the water, creating a large wave that hits you with a cold splash. Immediately you childishly kick splash back at him.

The dragon snickers so human, and your heart jumps.

It’s getting harder to ignore the blooming affection growing more for him.

Dieter sleeps besides the cabin now, specifically your bedroom window. Because of that you try keeping sounds low due to his incredible hearing.

Mainly because you’ve been looking up videos of him, anything from his interviews, to compilations of his movie roles.

One scene of him in a ‘so bad it’s good’ 2000’s rom com has been replaying in your head for days. The way Dieter greedily grasps his love interest's cheeks, how he kisses deeply possessive and consuming like a raging storm -

You wonder if he always kisses like that.

He’s ridiculously handsome. Both as a human and… even as a dragon.

But you stomp those thoughts away. Dragon or not, he’s a celebrity, an actual actor who has been linked to other famous people.

He possibly wouldn’t even look your way.

“Hey,” Dieter perks up and moves to rest his large head across your tummy while you lounge in the hammock by the lake.

You halfway lie saying you’re just tired. Then a sudden fanged sense of curiosity possesses your fingers, and they move before you can stop. You trace along his sharp bone like horns then down to the scales of his face. They’re cool and sturdy to the touch.

Dieter closes his eyes, relaxing more against you.

He’s settled down more, mellowing out into a zen peaceful version of himself that isn’t pestering you about ideas on how to break the magic placed on him. You even feel more relaxed, especially with him here.

When you first decided on this small break, you were slightly worried about being alone for this long. Instead, like something out of a strange fairy tale, you now can't imagine being here without this strange creature.

Slowly, then all at once, Dieter becomes clingy.

Rapid in his curious questions, he’s annoying and ridiculous at times but still incredibly endearing to talk to. As twilight approaches in soft glory, the dragon shifts to curl around you, a scaled mythical barricade that refuses to let you leave.

“No…don’t go back in. Stay here with me.” He purrs. “It’ll be like a fun camping trip.”

You snicker, even though your heart races at his plea.

“Maybe next time.” You suggest, and Dieter pouts huffing out a puff of smoke in protest.

In the shower your mind wanders to some cheesy romance books your best friend once showed you.

One was about a witch who fell in love with an enemy dragon cursed to destroy her. That story had you in a chokehold. Especially the scene where the witch got affected by a spell that backfired. It made her aroused and the only way to dispel the effects was through sex. And of course her dragon enemy was the only one present who could help the witch.

An image flickers in your mind repeatedly of Dieter with his shimmering gemstone eyes and you clutching onto his horns as he -

Soon enough your back hits the shower wall and your fingers drift down as your eyes flutter shut, allowing yourself to sink into that fantasy.

You try to keep your whimpers quiet, but a part of you… wants Dieter hear.

Your fingers curl and move, drawing out your arousal.

But then you hear it - a rumbled groan.

An embarrassed heat knocks into you.

That’s when you remember you left the window to the bathroom open. You’re about to apologize until Dieter speaks first.

He growls out your name, a whimper over the rush of the shower water.

“Oh, I can smell you.” His words slice through you and unleash a damn.

Your heart races, and your mind shuts down.

“More, gimme more please.” Dieter urges and your fingers pick up a frantic pace.

“Dieter.” You croak out his name.

“Fuck yeah.” The dragon pants, and you swear the walls shake a bit as if he’s trying to press past them, maybe even burst through to you.

“Shit baby, wanna eat you up so fucking bad.” Dieter slurs and knocks your climax out of your chest. You come fast.

“Fuck.” He now whines impatiently. “Want you more. Wish I could do more.”

You exhale trying to steady your breathing and also feel a tug of sympathy for him. You stay quiet, don’t know what else to do.

But after slipping into your pajamas, you notice Dieter has gone dangerously quiet.

So gathering up a bunch of blankets and pillows, you head outside deciding maybe to actually camp out with him.

Yet, in the stretching darkness, Dieter is nowhere to be found. Your heart breaks a bit.

The next morning Dieter is still missing.

You head to the small grocery supply store to grab a few items. The television talks about a storm approaching and you wonder if that’s why he left.

You spot a reasonably priced extra large tent, almost a canopy, that you maybe could use to keep Dieter safe and dry besides the cabin.

You hope he returns soon. As you struggle to try putting the tent together, the thunder rumbles in the distance.

Twigs snap and footsteps approach the path around the cabin. Slightly panicked, you start glancing out into the woods.

A part of you now hopes it's a dragon.

Unfortunately a mountain lion instead stares at you from among the tree line.

Your heart drops.

The large hunter stays still and so do you.

With your heart racing you slowly back away hoping to head back into the cabin.

But the large cat prowls forward out of the trees, a slow stalk.

Terror crawls all over your body.

A sinister rumble floats out into the air, and you think it’s the thunder getting worse.

That rumbling you mistook as thunder instead clearly floats into a terrifying growl.

You have to think it’s the mountain lion about to pounce any second.

Suddenly Dieter flies out of the trees. His maw is open wide, filled with shark sized sharp teeth. The beast lands before the prowler, a monster from a hellish nightmare.

The mountain lion bares its fangs, hissing loud and tries to swat its paw at Dieter. But the dragon remains unbothered and instead snapping his jaw shut towards the cougar almost trying to chomp at it.

It’s enough to frighten the large mountain cat, and it retreats away fast.

Dieter continues growling. His eyes are dangerous slits, a crystalized predator. You can’t move, too stunned to even think. But then your dragon blinks, coming back to his senses and rushes towards you.

He says your name worried as his face rubs all over you.

“Tell me you’re alright?! That stupid cat almost tried to attack you! I was so fucking close to biting his head off or shit charbroiling it-”

You reassure Dieter you’re alright, even wrap your arms around him best as you can.

You’ve never held him like this. His warmth in your embrace reminds you of a burning heartbeat, the thump of a flame too powerful to extinguish.

“Where were you? Where have you been?” You ask weakly.

“Didn’t wanna hurt you last night.” Dieter admits. “My mind…this dang freaky monster mind of mine kept telling me to do… things.”

You cautiously ask what.

He buries his large snout against you.

“Like fucking mate you.” He mutters, and your legs almost give out.

“Oh.” Dieter says and inhales deep. “Oh, damn… you like that huh?”

He can smell you, caught your wave of arousal already making you wet.

Soon enough he moves down, and you try to shoo him away until he presses his nostrils straight between your legs and inhales. You slap your hand over your mouth to stop the whimper that almost leaves you.

“I’m drooling.” Dieter slurs and even allows his mouth to stay open panting, a monster in heat. “God, you smell even better than last night.”

“Dieter.” You whisper.

“Please baby, please.” He pleads now gently nipping at your clothes with his sharp teeth.

“Don’t… I don’t want you doing this just because of your dragon brain taking over.” You fidget hearing your true feelings bubble out.

“No, I’m not! Promise.” Dieter says truthfully.

He even shifts his draconian face to place kisses against your thighs. “Would want you even as a man. Fuck it even got me messed up thinking how frustrated I was I couldn’t do shit with you as a man…”

“But now...” he drags his scaled nose up your legs, and your eyes close. “Kinda wanna enjoy being a dragon with you.”

“Wait…With me?” You asks a bit hesitant.

“Uh yeah.” He snorts. “Only you…Cause I trust you baby.”

Opening your eyes, your gaze meets Dieter’s peering up at you. A monster of devastating destruction and terror you just saw now at your knees so large, powerful, and beautiful.

Your hand caresses his face, and he closes his gem eyes.

You lie down within the half made tent. However, it creates a wonderful cave-like cover for you to slide into.

“What the crap is this?” Dieter nudges into the tarp as he wiggles as much as he can into the covering.

“Rain is coming, wanted to get something to keep you dry, you dick.” You playfully reply.

Dieter’s dragon eyes soften, pupils expanding like a cat’s, and he moves to nuzzle your neck. You lean back against him and exhale against his cool scales.

Then he descends, a beast ready to consume.

You think of the monster books your best friend lent you.

Now you can say it doesn’t do the truth justice.

After you slide off your shorts and underwear Dieter’s tongue, thin and slippery, long and precise with its movements, licks across your bare thighs. It traces against your skin leaving you wiggling wanting more.

Then he dives into you. His tongue slithers around your clit then wiggles into you, and your body snaps up galvanized by this unbelievable pleasure.

“Damn baby, this is incredible.” Dieter slurs drunk. “You’re incredible.”

You get it. It feels like your body is going to melt off your bones. Then his sharp dragon teeth very gently nip at your thigh, and your mind blanks.

When your climax hits he greedily slurps it up. You whine a bit overstimulate when he continues lapping at you.

“Mate,” he mutters. “Wanna mate you so bad.”

You softly coo at him, running your hand against his horn.

This idea has been infesting your mind for weeks. Now it’s here.

“Turn on your back for me.” You softly tell Dieter who effortlessly moves, doing as he’s told. Now he’s the one lying down covered by the half canopy.

On his back you’re smitten by the sight of his soft colored underbelly.

Then his monstrous large cock makes your mouth water and body shiver. You knew it would. But now you realize there’s no way his very rigged and large cock could fit inside you.

“Don’t even know if I can fit.” Dieter whimpers. Pre-cum starts pebbling, leaking, at the head of his cock and you already ache to taste.

“Shh…” you comfort him again, kissing the scales along his belly.

“I have an idea.” You whisper low.

Even with your weak and slightly shaky legs you manage to climb on top of him.

Then you settle down, resting on him. Both you and Dieter instantly moan.

“Fuck, already feel you. You’re so warm.” he sobs.

“You too.” You hiccup. His cock is heated, throbbing against you.

Then you grind your hips, dragging your pussy down against him, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

Dieter’s growls shatters the air, and you try to soothe him, settle his noises. But it’s hard, even for you. The more you grind and hump against him, you can’t even silence yourself. His rigged cock feels divine rubbing against you. Soon enough it’s simply you and him melting into each other.

You grind and grin, speeding up your hips. You’re lost in the pleasure, lost in the molten fire scorching your skin that before you know it, you come and pleasure crashes into you a consuming wave. Dieter moans, a half mixed noise so human yet monstrous.

“I’m… I’m gonna-” He growls, unable to even speak.

“Give it to me, please.” You beg.

When he comes it’s hot, sticky and there’s so much. But you feel beautifully dizzy and drunk, especially as his cum pools against your thighs sticking to your skin. It’s dirty, raw, but incredible.

Especially as Dieter shifts to now have you lying below him and his wings open up to create their own canopy against you, shielding you from the world.

After cleaning him and yourself up with your discarded shorts, your dragon curls against you

“Holy shit balls,” Dieter exhales with his warm breath that tickles. “That was the hottest kinkiest sex I’ve ever had. Didn’t think you’d have it in you. When can we do it again?”

You playfully swat at him.

“Hey, it’s all a compliment! I’m saying it was hot as fuck!” He argues and you snicker, but now in Dieter’s warmth exhaustion creeps in cozy and effortless.

The thunder rumbling becomes a soft lullaby mixing in with the content purr thundering from your dragon.

You turn and rest your face against the side of Dieter’s massive muzzle. Placing a soft kiss against his scales, you let your eyes close.

You rest safe with your dragon’s keep.

Soft raindrops falling against your legs waking you up wearily. You’re thankful at least half the tent keeps you covered as the rain pours down.

But you now notice you’re missing one dragon.

Instead the most handsome man you’ve ever seen sleeps besides you, curled against your shoulder while he snores.

Dieter’s utterly gorgeous. Peacefully resting, mouth slightly open, you ache to trace his sharp nose. His fluffy hair looks like an adorable bird's nest. You’re so in awe of this unreal man it takes you a moment to realize he’s a dragon no more.

You yelp surprised and bolt up from him.

“Wha? Whazzit?” Dieter wearily asks waking up.

“Dieter, Dieter wake up.” You urge, and he yawns as he stretches.

“Ready to go for another round huh, honey cakes?” He smirks sleepy but coy at you.

Then his eyes go wide as he realizes it too.

He shrieks, scrambling to sit up.

His hands press against his body and even glances down between his legs.

“Phew! Had to check my dick just to make sure, but we’re good.”

You roll your eyes until his wide beautiful earthen ones turn to you.

“I’m a real boy again!” He cries then gathers you into his arms squeezing you tight.

“Sex broke the spell!” Dieter declares, and you excitedly laugh rubbing his gorgeous back.

“You broke my spell.” He softer says, rubbing his nose into the top of your head.

“I don't know if it was me…but glad I could help.” You hug him back.

“Okay, as fuckin’ cool as it was being a dragon, and yes I’m already messing my dragon dick, I didn’t realize how much I missed being human. Like… I’ve just been wanting to hold you.”

His words are ridiculous, perfectly Dieter all while being endearing. You snort, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Rain pours down harder, slipping into the collapsing tent. Laughing and getting soaked in the downpour, you finally let Dieter inside the cabin. He of course happily follows you eagerly.

A knock at the door wakes you the next morning, breaking your soft spell among the blanket’s warmth and Dieter arms.

A park ranger and police officer stand on the other side of the door.

“Sorry to bother you this morning,” the park ranger sounds sincere and apologetic. Then he gives a look to the officer.

“But uh… have you… seen any weird suspicious activity around these parts?”

You’re a bit confused, and the officers must see that in your face.

The cop sighs. “A man came in yesterday screaming that he saw a dragon fly over while he was on the hiking trail nearby.”

A bark of a laugh escapes you, and you apologize for the outburst.

“No, it’s alright. It is kinda ridiculous to think about.” The park ranger warmly reassures you.

“No officers I’m sorry I haven’t seen anything of the sorts.” You relay to them.

“The only bad dragon around these parts is me.”

You sigh already tempted to shove Dieter away. In your soft robe he slinks his arms across your shoulder with a sleepy yawn.

The police officer and park ranger now stare like gaping open mouth fishes seeing the missing actor.

“You’re…you’re…-”

“Yeah, yeah I know who I am.” Dieter interjects, waving his hand casually. “And I’m not missing. Nor did the aliens take me as much as I hoped they would.”

He moves to curl against you more. “Just been here with my hot new girlfriend that’s all.”

The title sets your heart on fire. The officers wish you a good day. The park ranger even asks for an autograph from Dieter, which he of course gives.

“Now, if you excuse me, I gotta show my baby the real dragon here in the woods.” Dieter says without shame even winks and you shriek embarrassed, apologizing profusely.

You chide Dieter smacking his chest as he snickers proud.

“Come on,” he urges, nibbling at your cheeks. “Let me show my mate how badly I need her.”

You can’t argue with that.

Later that night falling asleep again in his arms you notice the same dragon rumble still deep in Dieter’s chest, a blissful rumbling purr.

[aheathen-conceivably]

From the moment Jo and Antoine arrived back home it was clear that something was different. Antoine had grown quiet, contemplative even, while Jo’s newfound confidence was even more pronounced than it had been these last few weeks. She proceeded to the cabin and then the farmhouse, calling out for Gio and Zelda before walking away without an explanation to either. As she did so, Antoine remained outside, throwing branches into the bonfire and staring at them as they went up into flames.

That was the way Zelda found him - staring forward and unmoving even as she looked to him for acknowledgment. Her eyes roamed upward from him to Gio, who was on the opposite porch looking just as confused as she felt. A sort of sympathy passed between them alongside the knowledge that something had fundamentally shifted while they had sat alone in their houses, unincluded and unaware. Jo reached Antoine first, patting him familiarly on the shoulder as though to awaken them all from a dream.

She had a plan. That much was clear from the start. That, and the fact that the reactions she was eliciting would do nothing to change it. So she told them every detail of Hosa Grove’s offer without stopping to let anyone speak, until she had finished reciting each and every date, number, and location he had given her. But as soon as she did, Gio was the first to answer. “Jo, I-I don’t know about this…”

She interrupted him before he could go any further, “You got us into this mess, Gio. If this is what it takes to get us out of it then it’s what I’m going to do.” He dropped his eyes to the sand and went quiet, which was precisely her intention. “Now it's not the full loan amount, but it should be enough to get them off our backs for a while. I can’t imagine there’s a line of people waiting out the bank. Still, it's only enough with me and Antoine’s money combined, and I’m not putting any in unless I get part ownership in return.”

Gio turned toward her incredulously, his obedience momentarily forgotten. “You can’t be fucking serious. Why the hell would you want any of this farm? You hate it and you know my share is as good as yours…”

Her eyes set and the look on her face told them all that the conversation was over before she even said a word. She met Gio’s gaze straight on and lowered her voice into a cold, measured tone. “You offered Antoine half. It’s no different. He can’t pay the full share, but if we split it, then he and I each get a fourth of the ownership.” She paused briefly, letting the gravity of the choice sit on them all for a moment, “Otherwise we lose the house.”

The very fire seemed to cackle at him, punctuating her words and feeding into his guilt-ridden idea that this was simply retribution, some sort of divine justice that placed him neatly beneath the heels of her red shoes after he had tried to tuck them away at the back of their closet. “Fine,” he finally relinquished, the uneven tone of the word signifying that it was anything but, “The farm will go half into Duplanchier ownership, split evenly between the two of you.”

Jo finally turned her full attention to Antoine, leaving Gio’s defeated face happily in her periphery. “Now, Antoine, what about you? All of this is moot if you don’t agree.”

He knew that the question was rhetorical. Jo had already made an agreement with Hosa, and so he had very little choice in the matter. The deal was nothing without him, and it was the only thing standing between them, bankruptcy, and the fate of the Okies. Even knowing that, he didn’t want to do it. He wanted to stay there on the ranch during the day and wake up next to Zelda every morning. To go outside and see his daughter before she left for school, only to still be there when she returned. He wanted to be home.

But home would cease to exist if he didn’t leave it. His daughter’s dollhouse, his wife’s books, Gio’s fields, Jo’s vanity - their very lives fell on his shoulders and his unwillingness to say yes. Still, he knew he would never make the choice to leave if she didn’t as well, no matter what it cost them. He looked at her profile, which was staring wordlessly into the fire like his had been moments before. 

When Zelda looked back at him she misinterpreted the hesitation in his eyes as worry for her, so she did her best to put on a brave face and looked back at Josephine, “I meant what I promised you all those years ago. Both of you. When the time came for him, I’ll do whatever you need of me.”

With her words, the deal was sealed, and Antoine looked back at his sister with a begrudging nod. He and Jo were going on the road.

Previous / Next

[victoria-grimesss]

tear you apart - part V

masterlist

->Pairing: König x fem!reader

->Words: 2.4K

->Warning: MDNI!, fluff, König is in love, soft sensual romantic smut, somnophilia, oral (female receiving) 

->A/N: Not as long as the other parts but I have big plans for the next one :)

The ride back to the base is uneventful, well not as eventful as the ride there. You chat and learn more about König and he learns about you. You share each other's favorite food and movie genre. You hold hands like a real couple and he brings your hand to his covered mouth to kiss it. 

The romantics end at the entrance of the base. He’s a gentleman and carries your bag back to your room, he leaves with a hand on your hip and a whisper of promises later, then returns to his. No-one seemed to notice you were gone and you were fine with that. 

The afternoon light filters through your window and there’s a thin layer of dust on the dresser, you note to clean later before inspections, not that you use your room often anymore.

When you leave your room, König plays heavily on your mind. He says such sweet things to you, and his actions prove his words. Hard to believe this is all real sometimes.

The gym is buzzing at this time, a group of new recruits train at the sparring mats, that’s marked with a flag in your mind where König first touched you. Now it’s a bunch of newbies scrambling and thrashing around. 

You start at one of the machines and you amuse yourself by watching the new people work, your time flows by.

The locker room is just as busy, it’s a bit irritating to bump into other sweaty people when you just want to shower. 

The warm water soothes your muscles and you close your eyes and imagine you’re back at König’s place. You’d rather be there. You imagine settling down with him, kicking up your feet beside him and watching some cheesy movie cuddled up. Maybe you’d get a couple chickens, plant some veggies, watch him chop wood…

Some other women laugh loudly outside the shower door and you snap back to where you are, not in his cozy hillside cabin with a meadow, you’re in the military shower with something suspicious growing in the corner. Your feet squeak in the shower shoes, you shut off the water and you towel dry off, dressing quickly.

—

The intercom goes off overhead, your name and König’s are listed as are a few others to meet in the briefing room. Your hair is still damp and pulled tightly into a bun when you enter the room, König isn't here yet but your captain and a few others are seated.

You greet your captain and sit, preparing for the meeting.

König enters,

All eyes shift on him, he is in charge after all and that thought has you buzzing with pride. Top of the food chain and he's all yours, the others don’t know he took you to his private home and kissed every part of you. They don’t know how many nights he’s taken you in this building. Sure, they know the surface level facts, it’s frowned upon, your relationship. But who in the world is going to go against König. Who would dare approach him, look him dead in the eyes and tell him he can’t be with the woman he loves? 

No-one.

So you sit a little straighter, your hands crossed on the table as you sit pretty and await his every word. His eyes haven't left you since he entered so he knows. 

“There is intel that needs to be gathered in an enemy targeted area, the people present in the room have been declared as more competent for the job.”

He goes on to explain the job and what will happen, in and out.

Next week you, along with the others will be shipped out. It’s your first mission since transfer and being alongside König eases your nerves and boosts your confidence in the team.

His eyes flit to you every now and then and you meet them, he speaks confidently, shoulders back and head high he towers over all else. You’re in love.

“Dismissed.”

Everyone stands and leaves the room besides König and you, serving a hot dish of deja-vu.

You walk slower to the open door and you wait before leaving and he of course shoots a hand out to block you, his eyes are humorous.

“Haven't we done this before?” You tease.

“Ah and this time is more delightful than the last.” His other hand is on your hip now his thumb moving circles.

One of your hands moves to his chest, you eye the hallway to make sure you’re free of watchers.

“That was nice, seeing your place.”

“Yea? I’ll take you again soon, promise.”

His eyes burn into yours and your mind swims with thoughts of him.

“You kill me you know?” He’s smiling under his mask.

“Really? How so?”

“Each moment I am away from you I yearn to be with you. When I entered this room I only saw you. I have never encountered someone who has enraptured me and you do. I am confident in your ability in the field but I still worry.”

Your hand moves up and strokes his shoulder.

“I’ll have you by my side, as well as an amazing team you put together. No need to worry my love.”

He glides his hand smoothly for your hip to your waist.

“You’re right Schatz.”

He ponders for a minute and holds you close, his nose resting on the top of your head as he inhales and files your scent away in his memory. He’s a highly trained military colonel, he’s seen loss on a large scale and seen so many coffins enter the ground. It makes sense to have you on this mission but he’s sure he’ll have trouble sleeping.

“I hate to part with you but I have much to do before we leave. Look over the file ok? Be ready.” 

He leaves you with a kiss to your hand under the mask, and you savor it.

—

It’s raining when you’re out in the courtyard this time, not as cold as when you first got here but there’s still a bite with the wind. Your hood is over your head and you just stand in the rain feeling it hit your jacket and roll off. The sun has set by now and most are asleep or in the mess-hall, you always take every little thing in, soak up each small quality life gives you before a mission. The way the air smells when it rains, smells the same as the body wash you got König, he says it’s his favorite now and you wonder if it’s just because it was a gift. 

“Schatz.”

König approaches arms outstretched to you and you enter them, enveloped in the smell of him and the way the rain hits his helmet and glides off, never even hitting you.

“Standing out in the rain you’re going to get sick.”

“You don’t actually believe that do you?” 

You laugh into his chest.

“Ah, well you hear something from your mother for so many years you start believing it.” He sounds deep in thought.

“Come, let’s get to bed yea?”

His hand on the small of your back guides you to his room where you spend each night. 

“I’m going to shower, I’ll be out momentarily.”

You hum in agreement and once he’s in the bathroom you strip and throw on one of his shirts and crawl into bed. 

You’re not mad or upset you haven't seen his face yet. You’ve seen every other part of him besides that and he’s expressed before he would show himself when he’s ready and you would wait a million years.

You sometimes daydream when you wake up before him and watch him sleep what lays under the mask. His eyes are blue and his eyebrows are lighter, you’ve felt his lips and you close your eyes and paint an image of him and each one is more perfect than the last.

He opens the door and steam surrounds him,

He wears that plain black mask as before, no shirt, and seductive gray sweatpants. 

“Scoot.” 

He pulls the covers back and you make room for him, awaiting his arrival. 

“You know.. where I’m from, gray sweatpants on a guy is equivalent to women's lingerie.” 

You smirk at him and your eyes rake over him as he lies besides you.

“Really? Well, I hope you’re enjoying my apparel then.” 

He’s amused at your words. You yawn and stretch cuddling into his side.

“Very much so, I’m always checking you out.”

He strokes your hair until you fall asleep in his arms, the rain outside soothing both of you.

—

You’re dreaming.

You’re in a field of lavender, the smell is all-encompassing, and the sun shines bright, there's a slight breeze but not enough to be an annoyance. Then you feel it, warmth and wetness down below. You’re on your knees like you were at König’s place. You look down and he’s there laid underneath you licking so softly you could cry. His eyes are locked on you as you start to rock your hips on his mouth. 

He hums and closes his eyes, hands holding even tighter on your thighs. 

You roll your hips again and the tip of his nose brushes you and you whine. 

He’s bracing you down on top of him like if you leave he’ll die. 

You moan and rock and he licks and sucks until you’re throwing your head back.

You gasp awake König’s name leaving your mouth so fluidly and loudly you feel like you’ve come through water up for air. Your hands fly down to his head and you try to push him away, the stimulation being too much but he growls and holds you close.

“Fuck König please, I can’t.-

“You will.”

He hardly sucks in any air as he speaks before diving back in.

He slips a finger in and removes his mouth looking at you writhing in his sheets.

“You just looked so good, so beautiful in my bed you can't blame me for it. I kissed your head, then your cheek and neck and I kept kissing you lower and wanted to make you feel the love you give to me each day. I want to keep you satisfied and happy.”

You’re hiccupping and whining, hips bucking as he strokes the spot within you and makes you melt. 

“You look even better like this, with my fingers deep inside you I can feel how my words affect you, feel how you get tighter when I say how good you are for me.”

You clench around him and he sounds satisfied, smug even. 

He latches his mouth back onto you and your foot catches on his shoulder to push him away but his hand is placed in the crook of your knee and he holds your leg back, it gives him even more access to you and he takes pleasure in diving in further. 

His breathing is ragged, and he sounds more desperate than you do. Maybe he is, because his hips drag themselves on the bed trying to relieve some of the tension within him.

You cum again on his tongue and he only then drags himself back, his mouth leaves burning kisses up your body again and you kiss him passionately, arms wrapping around his neck and he takes off his clothes and helps you discard of yours as well.

You lie with him naked and willing.

The rain is beating on the window and roof and the room is stuffy but you just want him.

“König please.”

“I know mein liebling I know.”

He kisses your neck softly as he enters you and you both sigh in relief.

He seats himself inside you fully, both of his forearms braced beside you, caging you in and your eyes meet as he raises his head from your neck.

His movements are slow as he savors the way he slides out of you nearly all the way and then enters back agonizingly slow.

“God, you hear that? Hear how wet you are fuuck.”

And you do hear it, his slow movements only amplifying it. His left hand cups your face and you kiss his thumb that's stroking lines from your cheek to your lips. 

His other hand caresses you sweetly finding purchase on your leg as he hooks it on his hip to find himself deeper within you. You moan into his mouth as he captures it with his. His tongue enters your mouth and his hand once at your hip laces his fingers with yours and places it next to your head.

His pace grows faster and your moans in his mouth grow louder and you both grip each-others hands tighter. 

He pulls away to look at you as he feels you getting tighter around him.

“I live for you, you know that right? I breath for you, I wake up and only think of you, and when we leave I will kill any man or woman that will try to take you from me, you’re so strong and so beautiful Mein Herz you fulfill me.”

Tears brim your eyes, not from pain but from true unadulterated love.

The overstimulation, approaching orgasm and König looking at you like that after saying things like that bring you to say what you long thought.

“Fuck König I love you.”

His pace stutters and he throbs within you and you clench once more before you both are reaching the end at the same time. 

“Fuck fuck fuck I love you too Y/N, god more than life itself I love you.” 

He says it through gasps and groans and he kisses you so hard afterwards your head is spinning. 

You breathe into each other then you laugh, and then he does.

He kisses your face in a million places.

I love you. A kiss to your forehead. I love you. A kiss to your nose. I love you.

He pulls back and you see him smiling, his teeth exposed and eyes nearly closed with how hard he’s smiling.

He hugs you tightly, he never wants to let go.

“Meine Liebe, du bist diejenige, ich werde dich eines Tages heiraten.”

You don’t know what he said, the German he’s teaching you is still juvenile but you’ll get there.

“I love you.” 

You say it again, it feels good.

His eyes are filled with stars.

“That sounds beautiful coming from your mouth, I never want to stop hearing it ok? I love you too.”

Another night ends, staved off the looming thought of the mission and all the possibilities and outcomes you lay there with him, basking in the afterglow giggling like children about silly jokes and he teases you for your accent when you say words in his language.

The rain beats on the roof, the room is warm, and you are in love.

---

Tag List: @theredviolets , @saint-chlorine , @cndy-l0v3

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

omg okay I have a hurt/comfort request (I loooove all your writing btw 💕💕)

So reader goes with Tai and Van on the expedition south, and ends up with a leg scratch, however they hide it whilst helping Van back, because it’s ‘less important’.

When half the group arrives back to tell the others that Van is injured they go out instantly, Nat sorta notices the readers slow pace but didn’t think much of it.

Once they’re all back at the cabin and watching Van get patched up, the reader sits down, deathly pale from blood loss, Nat realises something is really wrong and she’s worried sick 😣

She gets you to admit to you leg wound and rolls up your jeans to see how bad it is and her face visibly drops. Reader prepares themselves for harshness but Nat is so sweet and gentle and worried, she can’t even comprehend scolding.

Nat bandages the wound and comforts the readers pain so sweetly, (being like “I know, I know it hurts, I’m nearly done”) and gets her to bed etc, reader falls asleep with her head in Nats lap

It's Gonna Be Okay, Baby

Summary: Your explorative trip ended worse than imagined, and your girlfriend helps patch you up.

Warnings: canon typical depictions of violence, injury, and mentions of death (nobody dies dw), mentions of nausea and vomiting, mentions of passing out

Thank you anon, for the compliment! It means a lot :)

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You stood in the cabin, alone with Natalie as the rest of the girls stood outside, waiting to send everyone off.

"Y/n, please. Stay here. I want you here." Natalie was practically begging you, but you'd already made up your mind. You were going. Going wit Tai and Van and the others. You had to.

"I'm going with them. Taissa's finally doing something, and I'm not leaving her. I know that you can't go, that you have to find food for the others. But this is my way of helping. You can see that, right?" You take her hands in yours, squeezing them gently.

"They'll be fine without you, please. I'm sure they'll be alright. I just-" She inhales, composing herself. "I just want to make sure that you'll be safe."

"I will. But I'm going to be safe out there, finding help. I have to do this."

For a moment, it looks like she's going to keep arguing, that defiant look still in her eyes. But she softens after a moment, nodding. She knows that this is important to you, that you want to do what you can for the good of everyone. That didn't make the fact that you were leaving her hurt any less.

You almost say it for the first time. I love you. The words are on the tip of your tongue. They have been ever since you crashed, ever since you kissed that first time in the middle of the night, both of you unable to sleep. The two of you'd been dancing around romance for months, and it took a goddammed plane crash to get you to admit your feelings.

Instead, you opted for silence and a hug tighter than any you'd given her before. You hoped that it conveyed everything you were thinking.

I love you. I need you. I promise everything will be alright. I'll be back.

She hugged back, hands grasping at the back of your t-shirt. When you pulled away from the hug, she looked at you for a moment, seemingly drinking you in. Like she wanted to commit every part of you to memory.

The two of you walked outside, Natalie trailing behind you. Tai and the others who decided to come with her were already in the midst of saying goodbyes. Van comes up to hug Natalie, and you move to find Shauna and Lottie.

Lottie finds you first, pulling you in for a tight hug.

"Stay safe, okay? I don't have the best feeling about you leaving." She sounds genuinely terrified, and you squeeze your arms around her reassuringly.

"We'll be fine, Lot. Nothing's going to happen to us." You release her from the hug, and spot Shauna a few feet away.

She gives a small smile as you approach, and you return the look. Unlike Lottie, she doesn't say anything, just gives you a quick hug. Shauna's never been overly sappy or sentimental, but you know she loves you.

Once everyone had said their goodbyes, you turned to start your trek south. Before you can fully leave the clearing, Nat grabs your wrist to pull you into another hug. It doesn't say as much as the one you shared inside the cabin, since everyone was around. But you felt the love in it nonetheless.

When she pulled away, you give her another quick smile and turn to follow the rest of the group. You don't want to be too far behind.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In front of you, Tai and Van chattered on about horror movies and the bone necklace Lottie gave to Van. You couldn't help but feel jealous that your own girlfriend wasn't there. Not that there was any solid confirmation from either of them that they were together, but you knew. They were always sneaking off together, always glued to the hip, always coming back from foraging with puffy lips and messed up hair. It was endearing, in a way.

Part of you wanted to be upset that Taissa hadn't at least told you about the relationship, but it wasn't like you had revealed to her your own sexuality, let alone your relationship with Nat. So you let it slide. Everyone was entitled to their own secrets.

With Taissa occupied by Van, and Mari and Akilah being attached at the hip, that left you with Misty to talk to or to be alone with your thoughts. You chose the latter. Not that you disliked Misty, but she could be a lot to deal with sometimes. You were already preoccupied enough, you didn't need to end up snapping at Misty and have everyone pissy at you.

So, you walked alone with your thoughts. Thoughts about what might happen on this trip, thoughts about what Lottie was saying earlier about having a "bad feeling". But mostly, you thought about Nat and what she might be doing right now. Hunting, probably. She didn't do much else. She could be talking to Shauna, or more likely Lottie, or even Coach. It was a little upsetting knowing that she wasn't here with you, but you also knew she had a responsibility to the rest of the team. She was their hunter, even if there wasn't much to hunt anymore.

All of a sudden, you felt your foot catch on something and you lurch forward, stumbling right into Van. Luckily, she catches you, and she's laughing.

"God, fuck, I'm an idiot. I wasn't watching where I was going. Sorry, Van." By now, you're smiling, too, and you can hear giggles from behind you.

"You didn't twist your ankle, did you? It'd kind of suck if someone had to be your crutch until we found civilization," she joked, clearly not upset at all.

you right yourself and do a quick assessment, noting that everything felt and looked fine. "I think I'm good. I'll pay more attention, promise."

With that, you all continued on for a couple more hours before the sun began to set. Mari and Misty started a fire, and everyone else just sat around the firepit, getting warm and comfortable. Well, as comfortable as you can get in the middle of the woods.

After a few beats of silence, Van starts to tell everyone the plot of some rom-com that she had watched. It was entertaining to hear about, especially since you hadn't seen a movie in months, and the one she wad describing was one you hadn't watched. She rattled on for was probably twenty to thirty minutes. Not that you had much sense of time out here, especially at night.

Then, you heard it. Wolves. Everyone froze for a moment, remembering Coach Ben's words from months ago.

"Wolves are scared of humans. Plus, they sound pretty far away. No one has to worry," Tai assured everyone, her words sounding so firm nothing could convince you that they weren't true.

"You know who does have to worry? Our girl Sandy." Van quickly goes back to her retelling of the movie, and you relax a bit. By the time she finishes explaining the plot, everyone seems ready to go to sleep. You volunteer to take first watch, knowing it would be easier for you to stay awake rather than have to wake up later.

As everyone else fell asleep, you sat with your thoughts. It started to hit you that this might not have been your best idea, but it was too late to back out now. You missed Natalie, you missed the warmth of all the other girls in the cabin, you missed feeling at least a little bit safe. You honestly wished you were still trekking through the woods, because at least then everyone would be awake.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm your racing nerves. Everything was fine. You were doing this to find help, and you weren't going to go back empty-handed. They needed you. Natalie needed you.

So you watched, and you waited, and you stayed awake until it physically felt impossible for you not to fall asleep. When you knew you couldn't keep your eyes open much longer, you gently shook Taissa awake.

"Tai... Taissa, wake up. It's your turn." She barely moved, and you were surprised. It wasn't that Tai was normally a light sleeper, but if someone intended to wake her up, it was never this difficult. You knew that, often sharing a room with her, both for away games and sleepovers.

"Taissa. Tai." With that, she finally woke up, still a bit groggy.

"Sorry, Tai, really. But I can't stay awake any longer."

She just stares at you for a moment before slowly sitting up, nodding as she does. It almost feels as if you're back home, waking her up for breakfast at one of your many sleepovers. Almost.

You shoot her a grateful smile and curl up on the ground, begging for sleep to take you. It does, quickly, and you're relieved for that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, everyone wakes up only a bit worse for wear. Dirt on the arms, hair messy, mouths tasting like shit. Not much you can do now, but it's still a slight annoyance.

It doesn't take much to get everyone moving, the promise of finding help nudging you along. The morning goes by largely uneventfully, a little less chatter and a little slower than yesterday, but you move.

That is, until you find the dark red stream. The water honestly just looks brown to you, but Van's paranoia about Lottie's dream isn't helpful for morale, but neither is Taissa's outburst. Sometimes you wonder how the two of them could possibly fit together the way that they do, but somehow it works.

The afternoon brings a little more tension, now tired and already grumpy. No one is talking, save for Misty, and it's honestly driving you a bit insane. But you suck it up and smile, trying to bring everyone's mood up, at least a bit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You take first watch again tonight, to avoid a fight between Tai and Van on who should get to sleep first. It largely goes the same as the night before, trying to stay awake as long as you can to help the girls to sleep for longer, waking Tai up before falling dead asleep.

It's only about an hour later when it happens. First, of course, you hear Van's screams. It takes a moment to process what's going on, and when you do, you immediately jump into action with the others. Fighting off the wolves. You don't know how long you're like that before Taissa appears, finally scaring them away, but by then it's too late.

Van's dead.

Building the pyre, you almost feel numb. Nothing is going on inside your head, except for mild grief at the loss of a friend. So, it's no surprise that you don't notice the large gash on your upper thigh. The adrenaline coursing through you blocks away the pain.

When you do notice, it's an easy decision to cover it up. You'd be fine, it wasn't that bad. Honestly, it barely hurt. That's what you told yourself, anyways.

So, you change your pants before Van's makeshift funeral.

"Really?" Van chokes awake, sputtering on her own blood. "Fire?"

In an Instant, Taissa is hysterical, and everyone is moving Van off of the lit pyre. Part of you is relieved, the other terrified.

Misty helps Taissa to wrap Van's face as best as possible, and you again forget about the pain in your leg. When you start moving back to the cabin, you can barely feel it, you're so focused on getting Van back alive.

"Just leave me here to die." It hits you like a punch to the gut, and you can't imagine how it feels for Tai.

"No. We're getting you back there." Taissa is firm, and you're grateful for her. When she tells the four of you to go on, you do it.

In hindsight, you aren't even sure how you managed to make it back. Your jeans were soaked with blood, a combination of both yours and Van's.

You practically collapse into Natalie when you see her, only managing to get out "Van," before trying to drag her into the woods. Luckily, Misty and Akilah seem to be more eloquent, explaining to the rest of the Yellowjackets what happened.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get moving, wasting no time in trying to find Taissa and Van.

"Van!"

"Tai!"

"Taissa!"

You join in on the yelling, trying to keep up with everyone else. your leg is beginning to really hurt now, but you force yourself to keep pushing. Van needs you.

"Is she okay? She's limping," Natalie asks Akilah, voice low, as if she doesn't want you to hear.

"She tripped the other day, it might just be because of that. I'm sure she's fine." Suddenly, you're grateful for your fall. You didn't need someone freaking out over you instead of Van.

It isn't long after that you find them, curled up together on the forest floor. Taissa looks determined, more determined than she ever has before. And Van looks horrible. But with the help of Shauna and Natalie, she stands enough to drag her back to the cabin.

The stitches are the worst part. Everyone holding her down, the screams. You want to cover your ears and cry, but you don't. You hold Van down as she gets her stitches, and when she's done, you all but collapse on the floor.

Natalie comes to sit next to you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

"Hey. Are you okay? I noticed that you were limping earlier. And you've got blood all over you." She looks concerned, but you brush her off.

"It's Van's. And I tripped the other day." Neither thing was a lie, but it definitely wasn't the truth either.

"Y/n, seriously. You're pale as shit, you're limping. Just let me check your leg, okay?" She looks at you, and you immediately cave. It's easier to just pull off your pants, and by this point everyone has seen your underwear anyway.

She looks genuinely terrified, and you brace yourself for harshness, for "I told you so" or "Why wouldn't you say anything?" or "How could you be so stupid?"

Instead, Natalie softens, looking more worried than you'd ever seen her, save for the plane crash. She inspects the gash, noting the length and depth of it. You don't want to look, knowing how ugly it had looked before, sure it was worse now.

"Shit, fuck, okay. Relax, I'm going to get Misty or Akilah, and they can sew it up for you. It's gonna be okay, baby." She squeezes your hand softly before finding Akilah and the same needle and thread used on Van. She also brings water, and a stick for you to bite down on.

You take the water gratefully, sipping it slowly. The blood loss is making you dizzy and nauseous. While passing out could be a blessing when getting stitches, vomiting wouldn't be.

Nat sits beside you again, holding your hand as Akilah starts the stitches. You cry out, gripping Natalie's hand tightly.

"Shh, it's okay, it's going to be fine, you've got this." She keeps whispering soft, reassuring words to you, and you've never been more grateful for her in your life.

The stitches make you feel ten times worse, and it takes all your strength not to lose consciousness. You focus on Natalie next to you, trying to match her slow, steady breathing. It helps a little, and so does the fact that she's still telling you how strong you are, how amazing you're doing.

Finally, Akilah finishes, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"You should wrap it up with a clean bandage," Akilah says to Natalie, and you know she means with a strip of cloth. Nat nods, grabbing one of her own t-shirts and ripping a strip from it.

"I'm gonna have to touch it, I'm sorry." She genuinely looks so sad, but you're grateful for the help.

"No, it's okay." When she hears you, she just nods again before wrapping the cloth around the wound. You wince, but the sting is mild compared to all that you'd been through in the past 24 hours.

Nat sits next to you again, and you're so exhausted that you don't care who sees you. You lie your head in Natalie's lap, and she immediately starts running her hand over your hair. It's nice, soft and intimate, something not readily available in the Wilderness. You drink all of it in, the way her thighs feel under your head, the way her hand feels on your hair.

"I love you." The words are firm, like they're the realest thing in this place. You feel Natalie's breath hitch for a second, but you don't have time to worry about what it could mean.

"I love you too." She leans down to press a kiss to your temple, and you swear this is heaven.

It doesn't take long after that to fall asleep, feeling safer than you have in months.

[wonsunism]

ENHYPEN IMAGINES

CONTEXT: Enhypen members (except for Ni_ki) reacting to public teasing (including anything outside the house)

!warnings: smut

SWIMMING POOL

heeseung could barely hold himself back when you were looking so scrumptious in that two-piece swimming suit. your curves were standing out, and his cock was, well, standing up. he swam towards you, touching your waist and pulling you closer to him. it didn't take more than 2 seconds for you to feel how hard he was, as you lifted your head to make eye contact with him. his eyes were saying everything straight. he wanted you so badly. heeseung pushed you, softly, agaisnt the border of the pool.

"you look so beautiful, you know? too beautiful for me to let you go home unfucked"

heeseung pushed himself slowly, rubbing his body against yours. his dick was getting harder and harder while grinding on you. regardless of all the people around you, he didn't stop. he was feeling too good.

BUS

unluckily, the bus you were taking home was so cramped you barely found a seat. jay held your hand the whole time, until you finally noticed an empty seat all the way in the back. jay sat down, pulling you down on his lap. he hugged you from behind, keeping you warm. however, you didn't feel quite comfortable so you moved an inch, and that was all it took for jay's eyes to widen. wrong move. as you were sitting down, you felt how jay was getting hard, making you swallow hard. not that you wouldn't like it, but you were worried.

"jay?" you whispered.

"don't say a word"

jay grabbed your thighs with his palms and pushed you down harder, biting his lips and opening his legs slowly. he kept moving you up and down his cock, his hot breath hiting you neck.

FRIENDS' PARTY

sitting down on the couch, you and jake were cuddling into each other, waiting for your friends to come back from the kitchen. you stood up, though, to close one of the pointless lights turned on, yet accidently dropped your phone on the floor. how clumsy. you bent down, forgetting maybe for a second about your mini skirt and the fact that your boyfriend was right behind you. as you were picking up your phone, you felt jake's hand softly touching your exposed ass, going down your outer thigh and pulling you back next to him.

"you think you can save yourself from this so easily?"

your boyfriend grabbed your right hand, guiding it to the bulge formed in his pants and pressing it down on it. jake threw his head back, biting his lower lip. the way he wished you could just suck him off right that second. cursed party.

CHANGING ROOM

sunghoon was not the strongest soldier when it came to clothes shopping, but he was still trying his best to make you happy. as for now, holding at least 15 tops while following you to the changing cabin. he came inside with you, as this one had no shelves to put down the clothes. he kept holding them, watching you taking off your t-shirt. fuck. the way sunghoon felt couldn't be put into words. your tits looked so hot in that black push-up bra you were wearing. your t-shirt got stuck because of your hair claw, yet instead of helping you, he kept staring at your chest, obsessively.

"sunghoon, help me" you whined in frustration.

your boyfriend dropped all the tops on the floor and pushed you against the wall. he helped you take off your shirt, but that was not all. he started massaging your tits through the material of your bra as he raised one knee up, teasing your pussy.

FOREST

you and sunoo were going on a walk in nature, though you were "lucky" enough to fall in a mud puddle, getting your brand-new skirt all ruined. sunoo helped you get up, kissing your forehead.

"are you okay, my love?"

sunoo took off his trench, putting it on around your shoulders. you felt bad, worrying you might get it dirty too with your skirt. his trench was long enough to cover up most of your lower side. thus, you took the skirt off, giving it to your boyfriend to hold. you planned to button up, but you plans were ruined by sunoo approaching you closer, his hand going down your pussy. you haven't noticed earlier, but you were wearing his favourite panties, the cute pink ones he loved so much. he teased you, pulling them up, making you cross your legs. maybe falling in that puddle was a happy accident after all.

PARKING GARAGE

jungwon was driving home, while you, passenger princess, were scrolling down on tiktok. arrived as you were, your boyfriend parked the car inside the garage, turning the engine off and leaving the car. gentleman as he is, he walked around the vehicle, opening your door and holding your hand while you got off. but in that exact second, something came up in jungwon's mind, an image of you playing in one of these marketing ads for car cleaning, with hot drenched girls rubbing the car's windows while barely wearing anything. as random as it was, jungwon couldn't stop thinking about it, laying you down on the car's hood, leaning closer to you.

"you know you make my mind so dirty"

jungwon started making out with your neck, thinking about the scenario in his head, rubbing himself against you. he was so hard already, making you wet instantly. fuck, the garage door was still open, though.

reblog if you'd like to 🫶🏻

__________________________________

[ponyosmom35]

Here for you

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter thirteen!

synopsis: Before MW2, reader had finally gotten Simon to trust her, they were even friends. Both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything about it. Her sister is KIA and Simon finds her outside in the middle of the night with tears in her eyes. He opens up to her.

warnings: angsttttttt, talks about death, simons past, PTSD

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

a/n:

strap in, this is a long ass chapter! poor Simon needs a hug.

She sat with her back pressed against the guard tower, she stared out at the empty base, the calmest she’d ever seen it. Tears stream down her face as she tries to reconcile the truth: her sister was dead. It didn’t feel real, how could Emma be gone, she’d just talked to her earlier that morning. Though she’d long since washed the blood off of her hands, she still felt it. She looks down for the millionth time checking them. She shakes her head and runs her hand through her hair. 

“what are you doing out here?” a familiar deep voice asks 

She whips around to see none other than Simon Riley in his balaclava at the top of the steps. “Simon, you scared me” she says holding a hand to her heart “I couldn’t sleep” 

“me neither” he responds as he moves to sit beside her. “How are you doing?” 

“I’m not really sure yet, I don’t wanna talk about it if that’s okay” she says, looking over at him. He nods, worrying that he wasn’t the right person to be here. He’d always been dreadfully bad at speaking. Never was he a man of many words, he’d use as many as he needed to get his point across and end it there. If he could speak in one-word sentences he would. He knew that any of the others would be able to comfort her, say something that would make her feel better. 

“tell me something” she asks gently 

“what do you want to know?” he responds, shifting uncomfortably, another thing he wasn’t good at; talking about himself. 

“anything about you” she says softly “please” she nearly whispers

Simon looks at her thoughtfully, never feeling more exposed in his life. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to think of something he could share. He knew she needed this, she needed a distraction. If it were anybody else he wouldn’t have stayed, if this were anyone else he would’ve excused himself instantly. But this was her. The woman who’d somehow melted the ice in his heart. The woman he found himself thinking about at all hours of the day. The only woman he’d ever really trusted. She was the first person to learn his name in years, bringing him back from the ‘ghost’ persona that he’d so carefully crafted. She saw him, and he was terrified. 

Simon takes a deep breath, knowing that there was no going back now.  “Well, um... when I was a kid, my parents took me out to a cabin in the woods a lot. We’d go fishing and swim in the lake during the summertime” 

“sounds wonderful” she smiles, imagining the scenery and a little Simon running around with a fishing pool in hand. 

“it was” he says, staring down at his gloved hands. “sometimes I think about how different my life would have been if I had just stayed there… would’ve been so simple... maybe I would have even met someone, and started a family of my own, had some semblance of a life outside of this” 

Both are shocked at his confession, she was certain that this was the most he’d ever spoken at once. Her heart swells as she notices his behavior shift. He was sad. 

“so there is no Mrs. Riley back home then?”

“no, no there isn't” he responds, not an ounce of emotion in his voice, she could tell he was trying to pull away. She was losing him. 

“what do you do when you're not here? How does Simon spend his days off?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood. Her heart leaps when he chuckles softly. 

“I'm out on missions or back at base waiting for the next one” he shrugs 

“So you’re telling me you have no hobbies?” she asks

“what, you mean like knitting?” he asks sarcastically 

“Sure” she giggles

“I'm going to tell you something I've told very few people. this stays between you and me, alright?”

“my lips are sealed” she promises

“I like to read” he pauses, thinking about how strange it is to tell her this. To anybody else, it wouldn’t be such a crazy admission. He looks over at her, noticing the happiness in her eyes and the smile on her lips, so he continues. “ I've always been a fairly quiet and reserved person. Never been able to find the words you know? I didn't have too many friends to talk to when I was growing up, so I could always rely on books”

“I love to read also” she responds “I feel the same, sometimes it’s nice to escape the world for a bit”

“that's exactly why I do it” his voice is soft and vulnerable, something he’d never heard from him before. For the first time in years, he’s relaxed.  He didn’t feel the need to maintain a serious facade. “ it's a nice feeling to get lost in an endless world of wonder and excitement. and for a little while at least. You just get to exist in this universe where you're completely in control. it's... freeing”

“You can be anyone you want” she agrees 

“Yeah” he murmurs

“thanks for trusting me with that Simon, I promise I won't tell anyone”

Simon nods and looks over at her, noticing the way she rubs her hands together as a light breeze hit them. He takes his gloves off quickly and hands them over to her wordlessly. She looks up at him with a smile on her face. “Thank you”

“Don’t mention it” he says gruffly, she snorts, there’s the man she knew. 

“can I tell you something?” she asks, watching as he nods

“I'm awful at cooking, I was banned from the kitchen at my parent’s house growing up” 

“oh yeah? what, do you burn everything you touch or something?” he asks playfully, his voice lighter now. He tries to imagine her in the kitchen. 

“guess you could say that” she laughs 

“I love cooking. It's therapeutic. There is something very calming about kneading dough, chopping up vegetables, and getting your hands dirty in the process”

“I knew there was more to you than meets the eye” she teases  “seriously though I can see it, for some reason it actually kinda makes sense to me that you can cook”

what's that supposed to mean?” he raises his eyebrows

“It suits you” she shrugs “can I ask you a really personal question?”

“Go on” he says

“what's your favorite color?” 

He chuckles loudly “you're really pushing it now darling”

“seriously though what is it?”

He pauses for a few seconds before answering “green... I like trees, grass, leaves... the color of nature in general. And you? What’s your favorite color?”

“Green” she smiles 

“Fucking hell” he nods, surprised how much they had in common. Amazed that he’d stayed for so long, he’d opened himself up so easily, that being with her made him want to keep talking.

“Yeah” she says pushing her sleeve up to show him the green moss agate bracelet he noticed that she would wear on her constantly. The only time he’d seen her without it was when she was working with a patient. 

“I like it”

“It’s moss agate, supposed to give you emotional balance” she responds, dropping her hand back to her lap as they fall into a comfortable silence. Simon wonders why she would need emotional balance, she seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. Never had he seen her lose her cool (except for when they fought - which he tried to forget). Simon moves his body, pushing himself against the railing so he could face her, his foot bruises against her leg and he drops his hands in between his thighs. He was so interested in her, he wanted to know everything. 

“So, how did you end up...here? It's a big world, and you could've landed in any number of places, yet you ended up in the middle of nowhere”

“I always wanted to help people, that much I knew growing up. It wasn't until after Emma left to join the service that I was stuck at home with my parents, I know they meant well but they constantly compared the two of us. nothing I did could ever measure up to her” she pauses as she takes off her bracelet, tracing the stones lightly. 

“go on... I'm listening” he encourages 

“my grandma had an accident, she needed CPR and I don't know what came over me, I just started compressions without a second thought. I was able to save her, and I guess from then on I knew that I was meant to be a medic. To answer your question, I'm here because of Emma. I wanted to be closer to her and when Laswell offered me the job I accepted. Now I'm here with the legendary Simon Riley” 

He laughs lightly “sounds like your destiny” 

“how did you end up here?”

“you wanna know how I got here?” he asks, unsure if he was ready to discuss that. Part of him wanted to tell her everything he’d been through, the other part was terrified of letting her in. He looks over at her with a soft expression. 

“Had a shitty childhood, enlisted as soon as I could. Worked my way up the ranks, turns out I was really good at my job. About ten years ago, give or take... I was leading a team on a mission. We were tasked with apprehending a terrorist leader who had been responsible for many attacks. The mission wasn't exactly sanctioned, however. It was sort of a personal favor to me from my CO, General Shepherd. He knew I wanted this guy, so he gave me the go-ahead to conduct the mission” he pauses, she could tell that he was reliving it all in his mind “after crossing the border and deep into enemy territory, we finally made it to the terrorist's hideout. We were able to gain the upper hand, and captured him and a few other members of the group who were working under him, but things didn't quite go to plan” 

He stops again, trying hard not to say the words that are forming in the back of of head. He stares off into space. Memories plaguing him.  

“I lost them. All of them, except... “ More emotions cloud his voice until he can barely understand what he was saying. His heart started beating so fast that he could hear it pounding in his ears.

“you don't have to tell me Simon” she says gently, noticing the visible distress he was going through. As the seconds pass, he slowly regains his composure and looks back up at her. His voice is much calmer as he speaks again.

 “doesn't matter. The mission failed. We failed. We did everything right... everything” he says, she doesn’t hesitate and gently grabs his hand in her own. 

He looks at her hand on his own and let out a sigh, a smile forming on his face underneath the mask. 

“I'm not used to people touching me” he admits, looking at her, finding the moment oddly intimate. His voice is soft and quiet, and he looks at their hands, the moment suddenly feeling so important to him. “I've never been the type for affection or physical contact, not my thing”

“Oh god I'm so sorry!” she exclaims as she drops his hand. Simon looks at her and gently takes her small hand in his own. His actions saying the words he couldn’t. He looks back up at her, noticing your flustered face, and finds himself unable to look away. Her cheeks, glowing in the moonlight, her green eyes, filled with light and curiosity, and her face, slightly flushed with embarrassment. 

He felt himself drawn to her in an almost primal way. He could swim in her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her close.

“We were outnumbered, we fought to the fucking death. But we lost. I was taken the leader and tortured for information” he says placing his free hand on his ribs as he closes his eyes, remembering the pain. She squeezes his hand, showing him that she was there. 

“I was able to escape but I lost them all, I lost a part of myself. I gained a higher ranking. Lieutenant Simon Riley. Fucking sicking”

“what about your family?” she asks 

“They were collateral damage…” he says as he drops her hand, noticing the sun rising, a small glow lighting her face. “The leader warned me if I came after him that it would happen. He killed em’ all. My mum, my little brother, my nephew, his wife, even my son of a bitch father, dead cuz of me” 

She raises a hand to her mouth in horror, tears fill her eyes as she starts to piece it all together. It made so much sense now, why he was this way. “god Simon, I'm so sorry, I don't even know what to say”

“Ain’t nothin to say” he says emotionally 

“What happened to the leader? Did you catch him?”

“I hunted down each and every one of em’. Took some time but I got the fucker. I killed him and whatever remained of Simon Riley that day. Wasn’t long until Price found me, and recruited me for the task force” 

“How do you live with it all?” she asks

“I’m not the person to ask” he says honestly, watching as her face falls in disappointment. 

“I know it's hard” he sighs putting his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes and leaned back, his hand resting on his head. “Sometimes I wish things didn't go the way they did... but life has a funny way of showing you who you are” 

He pauses, thinking about how to say this last part. “I’m the last person you should be taking advice from, but one thing I do believe is that shit happens for a reason. It fucked but now I’m here, doin’ the best I can, bloody hell I’ve saved some people along the way. That’s what matters”

“you're saying that I'm gonna have this big revelation about myself now?” she asks 

“there's a chance” he murmurs, sitting up and looking at her. “do you want to know how I know things will get better for you?”

“Enlighten me”

“because you already have everything you need to survive, it seems to me that people are so afraid to fail to the point that they don't even try. everyone wants to blame something else for their problems because it's easier than accepting fault, right? But in the end, it's all about perspective. You're a bright person, and the fact that you're here right now shows that you're strong enough to make it to the next day. you're a survivor, and that's something to be proud of. And one day, you’ll look back on this time in your life, and you'll realize it was all about perspective” He pauses for a moment, wondering how that sounded. He looks over at her and finds a small, genuine smile. “It’s not gonna be easy, you’re gonna miss her every day, but that pain is gonna be what drives you, live your life, for you and for her”

“I don’t know how to do this without her, I’m scared to go home, knowing that it’ll never be the same” she admits 

“No it won’t” he agrees, knowing that she didn’t want a bullshit answer that would make her feel better. 

“do you take your own advice? or are you just saying this to make me feel better?” she asks 

“I have a lot of demons inside of me. And I still have a lot to work on” He looks over at her, expecting a smart remark or a joke, but she doesn’t say anything, just giving him a subtle nod. “but even I can admit that what I said was truthful, as cheeky as that sounds”

“I appreciate it nonetheless”

“look, let's be honest here. I'm just trying to distract you long enough so I can steal that bracelet you're wearing” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood

“here, take it” she says handing it over to him without hesitation. 

“No I couldn’t” 

“I wouldn't have offered if I didn’t want you to have it, take it so you have something to remember me by” 

Simon takes the bracelet, noticing the beauty and simplicity of it. The moss agate stone glints in the light, its color a symbol of their connection. He puts it on his right wrist, the stone warm to the touch from how she’d been holding it. 

“I'll remember this forever”

“don't get sappy on me now Simon!” she exclaims, pushing him gently as a smile crosses her face. He laughs. 

“I'm a soldier, not a poet, alright? what do you say we get back inside?”

Simon stands and offers his hand to her, helping her up, she gingerly takes his hand and stands to her feet. He gestures for her to go ahead of him, letting her take the last step before he closes the distance between them and grabs the door handle to open it for her. 

“thank you for sitting with me, and for letting me talk. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you trusted me with your story. You are truly one of a kind, and I can’t tell you how much I respect you. I don't know how you did it but I feel like I might actually be okay, so thank you for that”

“you're welcome, love” the words come out quietly but sincerely, almost a whisper.  We're slowly nearing the doorway and hear talking from inside the trailer. As we walk in, we see Gaz, Price, and Soap leaning against the wall and talking amongst each other. The three of them look over at us for a second, with Price and Soap glancing at him and smiling. He gives them a nod, and the three of them turn back around and continue talking.

“they're up early” she comments 

“we have a mission today”

“that's right” she muses

Simon walks her to her room, a comfortable silence falling between them as they both realize that this may be the last time they see each other. She’d be flying back to Washington the next morning, unsure if she’d ever be back. 

“Hey” he asks as they near her room, she pauses and looks at him.  

“Yes?”

“can I ask you... a favor?”

“of course” she says 

“don't let yourself be consumed with anger and regret, its no way to live”

“I won't, as long as you do the same”

“okay. well, I guess that's a deal then”  

“good luck today, if I don't see you before I leave. stay safe, take care of yourself”

He nods in response, taking in every small detail about this moment. Her smile, how her orange hair frames her face and falls down her shoulders in beautiful long waves, the sound of her voice, the glimmer of her eyes in the light.

“Always” he responds 

He watches as she opens her door and slips inside. He says nothing more,  standing there for a moment as it occurs to him that I might not see her again. He takes a deep breath and starts to head back towards his own room, thinking about what just happened.

[candycandy00]

CANDYYY!! Congratulations on 2k followers!! You deserve every single one of them!! 💕💕

I saw the build your own fanfic adventure and you know I have to get in on this soooooooo:

Character: Dabi (what a surprise there 😂)

AU setting: Honestly I'm so stuck between Gothic Mansion and Monster Forest, I'll let you decide!!

Spice level: screw it let's go all the way, NSFW bb

Mood: I'll leave it up to you! You know me, I could go either way!

Kink: ugh I'll indulge a little today, Breeding/Daddy kink (sometimes I like being taken care of, you know?? 😂😂)

Have fun my love! 😘 Can't wait to read Choso's chapter!!

Waxwork - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dabi as a werewolf. Dabi as a vampire. Light vampire-related blood. Rough sex. Breeding. Oral sex. Heavily inspired by the 1988 horror film “Waxwork”.

This ended up a lot longer than I planned but I hope you like it, babe!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback is loved! Dividers by @benkeibear.

You’ve always loved wax museums, so when a new one opened up in town, you just had to visit on opening day. You walk through the doors, noting sadly that there isn’t a very big crowd. After looking through the “historical figures” and “celebrities” sections, you wander into the “fictional characters” area. 

There are highly detailed wax figures lovingly made to recreate various famous scenes from novels and movies. A large portion of them are horror, and so you feel a chill down your spine as you notice you’re the only visitor in this section. 

Some of the wax figures look so realistic, you find yourself staring at them to make sure they’re not moving. You walk around, looking at the displays, before stopping at one that fascinates you. 

The scene looks like the interior of a cabin in the woods. There are even fake trees outside the windows. The “room” is lit by a fireplace. Near the door, there’s a young man bent backwards in what appears to be agony, in the midst of a transformation. He has messy white hair, and half his body is covered in white fur, giving the illusion that the fur is spreading. His dark clothes are ripped, and he’s clutching his head with his hands, one of them tipped with razor sharp claws. His eyes, so bright blue that they seem to glow, are staring upwards. You imagine he’s staring at a full moon.

Also in the display is a young woman in a ragged dress, recoiling from him in horror. Strangely, she resembles you. Her build is the same as yours, as well as her hair. But with her face so twisted by fear, you can’t really tell if that resembles yours too. 

Your eyes keep being drawn back to the man, to the fine white fur that looks like crushed velvet. You want to touch it, to feel it beneath your fingertips. And his eyes… so beautiful. 

Wait… did his eyes just move? For a fraction of a second, you thought his eyes flicked down to your face. But surely you imagined it. You laugh nervously, deciding you’ve been looking at this display for too long. 

You move quickly to the next display, this one looking like the ornate dining room of a gothic castle. Sitting at the table in a beautiful Victorian style dress is a young woman who looks almost identical to the one from the previous display. Which means she looks just like you. Her hair is pinned up in an intricate style, and her dress is way too immodest to be historically accurate. It’s an off the shoulder design that is extremely low cut, exposing way more cleavage than was probably common in the Victorian era. 

The young woman is holding a steak knife in her hand, and has apparently cut her finger on it by accident, as a shiny drop of red “blood” is made to look as if it’s dripping down her hand. But the most interesting part of this display is the man standing behind her, like a predator. 

You draw in a sharp breath as you look at him, realizing with a tinge of alarm that he’s the same as the man from the werewolf display, with slight differences. This one has black hair, and is wearing a black Victorian suit with a cape. He also has scars covering the lower half of his face. But those eyes… those lovely blue eyes… they’re the same. There’s a look of hunger in them as he leans over the woman, staring at the drop of blood. You look at the blood too, trying to imagine why he finds it so compelling. 

Oh, he must be a vampire! You almost laugh at yourself for being so slow to realize it. You casually glance back up at his face, and your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s looking straight at you. Not at the drop of blood, but at you. 

Your heart pounds furiously as you stare at him, locked in his gaze. This time you’re certain. His eyes moved! You know for a fact he was looking at the woman’s hand before! So why is he looking into your eyes now? 

This must be some kind of trick or gimmick, you tell yourself, trying to calm down. Maybe the wax figure has some sort of mechanized feature that makes his eyes move, as a way to excite the visitors. Or, judging by how realistic he looks, maybe he’s an actor! The possibility makes you feel quite silly. 

You back away, suddenly eager to leave this section of the museum, but your back collides with something and your body bounces forward, causing you to stumble over the velvet rope cordoning off the display and fall directly into it. You close your eyes and brace for the impact of the floor, but instead you black out. 

When your eyes snap open, you’re sitting at the fancy table in the dining room. There’s a plate of delicious looking food in front of you and a steak knife in your hand. A single drop of blood is sliding down your index finger. You look in front of you, where the rope should be, but it’s not there. In fact, the rest of the museum is gone! You really are in a complete dining room! 

All at once you remember the other occupant of the room, and you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder. Leaning over you is the very beautiful, very alive, vampire with the black hair and the scars. 

“Did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” he asks. You expected his voice to be more smooth and formal, given his attire, but he sounds like any random guy you go to college with. 

You’re not sure what to say, wondering if this is a dream or not. Did you hit your head when you fell? 

The man grabs your hand, firmly but not harshly, and pulls it up to his face to examine it. “Looks like a small cut,” he says, then wraps his scarred lips around your finger, his tongue lapping gently at the blood. 

You’re so transfixed that you don’t think to pull your hand away until he’s finished. His eyes move over you, and you’re suddenly very aware of how obscenely low cut your dress is. You stand up from the table and look around, still hoping to see the rest of the museum somewhere. But it’s just not there. 

“Not running off, are you?” the man asks, a hint of a grin on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone for dinner.” His tongue runs over his lips as he says it, making your face flush with heat. 

“Um, I’m not really sure where I am,” you say, your back against the edge of the table. 

He steps closer to you. “You’re in my home, doll, and we’re about to have dessert.”

You feel paralyzed as he gets closer and closer, until his body is pressed against yours. He’s taller than you, probably a little older, but he’s fucking gorgeous. 

Maybe this is a dream. Maybe it’s a concussion-induced hallucination. But whatever it is, you might as well enjoy it. 

You reach up and wrap your arms around him as he lifts you up and sits you on the table, the plates and silverware magically gone. His mouth is on your neck, licking along a vein before you feel a sharp pain. He’s biting you! The pain is intense for a few moments, and then disappears, replaced by a feeling of euphoria. You can feel his teeth tearing at your delicate skin, can feel his tongue gliding along the wound, but it doesn’t hurt at all now. You only feel warm and aroused, listening to the sensual sucking sounds as he devours your blood. 

He lies you back on the table and pulls away from your neck. His mouth is sticky and red. He pulls the top of your dress down, freeing your breasts, and then his hands and mouth are upon them, squeezing and licking. 

You moan, clutching his shoulders, opening your legs ever wider as his body presses to you. Eventually he reaches down and rips the skirt of your dress right up the middle, clearing himself a path to your panties and exposing your white garter belt and stockings. He tears the panties away and bends down, running his tongue along your heated, damp flesh. You arch your back, ridiculously turned on by the idea of a vampire eating you out. His tongue, still wet with your blood, circles your clit, driving you to madness. 

When you’re right on the edge of climax, he stops and pulls away, opening his pants to the sounds of your panting. “Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asks, sliding his hand up and down his hard, pleasingly large shaft. 

“Yes! I’ll be so good!” you breathe out, locking your legs around his body, pulling him closer. 

He grins as he shoves himself into you, licking your blood from his lips. His thrusts are deep, intimate, and hit your sweet spot just perfectly. “Ahh… feels so good…” you cry. 

You want to moan his name, but you have no idea what it is. 

“That’s it,” he says with a grunt, thrusting deeper, “taking me so well!”

Fuck it. Just go with the vibes. 

“Harder, Daddy!”

He looks down at you, momentarily surprised, but then he laughs and fucks you harder than you’ve ever been fucked before. 

You were already on the edge of cumming, and now you’re pushed over the edge by the way his tip hits your cervix, making you bounce off the table. You cum while clenching his cock. 

Just before he releases his seed inside you, painting your womb in his color, he leans forward and bites your neck again. There’s that brief searing pain again, contrasting so deliciously with the pleasure rippling through you as his cock pulses in your body. 

He pulls away, licking his lips again and pulling you up to your feet by your hand, like a gentleman. You’re in a daze as he leads you to the door of the room. “Thanks, doll. I haven’t had any visitors in a long time. Hopefully I’ll see you in the next one.”

“Next one?” you ask, confused as you walk through the door. 

You find yourself back in the museum, standing in front of the vampire display. But it looks different now. The woman sitting at the table doesn’t look like you anymore, instead having plain, almost blank features. And the man, the vampire, is standing up straight, looking right at you, a subtle grin on his bloody lips. 

Startled, you step back and touch your hand to your neck. You can feel the puncture wounds, the slick blood trickling out. 

Was… was that real?  

Somewhat delirious, you stagger away, and end up stumbling right into another display. This time you blink and you’re in the cabin in the woods. You’re the girl in the torn dress, cowering in fear of the white haired man who is turning into a werewolf before your very eyes. 

He looks at you through his agony as his body transforms, and you can see the recognition in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck, not this one!” he says, trying to move away from you. “Run! Get… to the edge… of the forest! Hurry!”

“What’s happening!?” you scream. “How did I even get here?”

“It’s the museum!” he shouts, clutching his head in pain. “Listen, you have to run! I can’t… control this form! I go fucking feral!”

You stand there, frozen, watching the soft white fur spread across his lean body, the claws on his hands get longer, the teeth in his much wider mouth become large and sharp. Two white furry ears even grow out of the top of his head. 

“Feral, you say?” The question rolls off your tongue. Watching him writhe in pain as his body changes is… actually kind of hot. 

He looks at you, blue eyes wild, and he seems to understand what you want. The transformation is complete. He stands before you much taller than before, covered head to toe in that lovely white fur. There’s a primal feel to the way he looks at you. Animalistic. Predatory.

Either he’s going to rip you apart or fuck your brains out. You really really hope it’s the latter. 

He lunges forward and tackles you to the floor, pushing you face down onto the rug in front of the fireplace. His movements are fast and aggressive, but not too rough. He easily could have killed you already. 

With one swipe of his powerful claws, your dress is in tatters, barely clinging to your body in tiny strips that cover nothing. Behind you, he lifts your hips and spreads your thighs, and almost immediately plunges into your slick pussy. 

You cry out, gripping the rug in your hands as he begins fucking into you, your bare chest and stomach rubbing against the rug with each thrust. Ah, his cock feels incredible! It’s long and hard, covered in a thin layer of soft velvety fur. As he takes you from behind, he uses one hand to lightly scrape his claws down your back. 

“Oh god!” you scream out when one clawed hand reaches around and finds your clit, rubbing and pinching it, making your body tremble. You don’t have to tell him to fuck you harder. You don’t think he possibly could. Your knees are wobbling, barely supporting you, your face is pressed into the rug, your tears seeping into it. You’ve never felt this good in your entire life. 

You feel him twitching inside you, and just as you feel his scalding hot cum shoot directly into your womb, you feel your own orgasm wash over you. Moaning and panting, you stay there on the rug, your face buried in it, until he eventually pulls out. By the time you have the energy to roll over and look at him, he’s reverted back to human form. 

He’s standing there naked, his white hair damp and hanging in his eyes. He drops down onto the rug beside you, and you scoot closer to him, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

“What is this place?” you ask him. “Is this really still the museum?”

The fireplace is roaring behind you, and you can hear the wind blowing through the trees outside the cabin. 

“I think every display is its own pocket dimension,” he says. “But fuck if I know how it all works.”

You look at him intently. “Who are you?”

He shrugs. “Just a guy who got stuck here. I came to the museum with some friends a few years ago, stumbled into one of the displays, and got stuck. I stayed inside too long, so now I can’t leave.”

“Why not?” you ask. 

“When I finally found the border, the way back to the museum, I stuck one arm out and it instantly turned to wax. As long as I stay in the displays, I’m flesh and blood. But I can move my consciousness around the different dimensions.”

You suddenly feel panicked. “What about me?”

He grins. “You’ll be fine. You haven’t been here nearly long enough. Certain rare people get pulled in, and I always lead them out.”

You meet his gaze for a few moments, then say, “I’ll come back! I’ll visit you as often as I can!”

He gives you a somewhat sad smile. “The museum moves around to different towns. We probably won’t be here for longer than a year.”

“Then I’ll track it down!” you say forcefully, causing him to blink in surprise. “Wherever you go, I’ll find you!”

“I hope so,” he says, then he stands up and heads for the door, opening it. He tosses a blanket to you to cover yourself with and says, “You better get going. Head to the edge of the forest and you’ll be back in the museum.”

You wrap the blanket around yourself as you walk through the door. You stop and look back at him. “What’s your name?”

He smiles. “Touya.”

Minutes later, you’re back in the museum, standing in front of the werewolf display. The man who was once bent back in pain is standing calmly in the cabin now, looking at you without moving. You wave to him before turning to leave. “See you later, Touya!”

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 2: The Shadow to my Flame

Series masterlist

Masterlist

 Thank you very much for all the letters. I hope you remain safe while sharing such important information.

Beron has invited all the other High Lords to a ball next weekend. What do you know about it?

Ashe almost squealed as she read the letter. She was being useful! She was helping!

She couldn’t help but wonder who was answering her? Who was needing to know details about the High Lord’s ball? And who in Prythian dared to call the High Lord of Autumn by his birth name and not hit title? She would have to think about that later.

Without wasting another second, she sat down and started to write down all she knew.

The High Lord has invited because he wants to show off to the other High Lords how powerful he is. He wants all of them to know he shouldn’t be messed with. He is proud of his slaughter and wants everyone to know.

They will open the wards to the Forest House so that everyone can winnow inn. They will not however, open the wards to the entire court. Everyone will have to walk over the border and show their invitation.

The preparations haven’t started for full yet, so I’m not sure about all the details. I’ll keep you updated.  

Even though it was only half an hour since Ashe had picked up the letter from the mailbox, she rushed back.

To her surprise, her previous letter was gone and changed out with a new one. It was written on a similar parchment to hers this time.

She laid her letter down and this time, she winnowed to her cabin. She was too exited to wait. She landed in the living room and sat down at the table:

It can imagine that must have been a hard time for the High Lord.

Is there something we can to do help all the fae that is driven away from Autumn? Is there specifically something the Night Court can do? We want to help, but we don’t know how.

Shadow

The fae that wrote to her was from the Night Court? The Night Court wanted to help?

Ashe didn’t know a lot about the courts she didn’t live in, but she knew one thing and that was that the Night Court is evil. They had been compared to Autumn many times and come out worse.

She spent a long time just sitting at the table and wondering. Should she be giving this information to the Night Court? They were the enemy, but her High Lord wasn’t any better. To give the faeries a change, she decided to trust the fae that was writing her.

Most of them just need a place to stay temporarily. That would help more than anything. All you help must come from outside the Autumn Court. If you come in, they can catch you easier than before and it was only makes it worse for the faeries already struggling.

Changing the High Lord’s mind isn’t an easy task, but it would help. He’s killing too many right now. In the end, he’ll destroy his entire court, but he doesn’t understand that. Something has to be done, but I don’t know what. Just please help them.

The letter had been from Shadow. So, Ashe should probably find something to call herself too.

Without thinking too much about it, she wrote Flame at the end of her letter. Flame and Shadow. She liked it.

Ashe lifted her head off the table. She had fallen asleep. The sun was up, but it was hidden behind many dark clouds. It was pouring down outside. The sound was comforting.

She had spent the entire weekend, both day and night, winnowing back and forth between her cabin and the mailbox. And every time she returned, it was filled with a new letter. Shadow would thank her for the information and then ask her a new question. She had written six letters that night and a total of twenty that weekend. They were long, often more than a page, all including details about the High Lord’s plans. She wrote all about everything she knew. She wrote about the Forest House, the people closest to the High Lord, how he treats people, and much more.

Waking up felt heavy. She needed more sleep, but she was too busy to care. She quickly washed her face and changed clothing, before she walked to the mailbox once more with her latest letter.

She still got the same amount of excitement seeing someone else’s letter in the box.

She put down her letter and lifted the next one. She would wait to read if for when she got back to the Forest House.

It was Sunday and that meant she had to go back to the Forest House to be ready for work the next morning. Therefore, she had spelled her last letter and given Shadow instructions to write on the same piece of parchment, so that she could teleport the letters between the two when she was at work. Now that she had gotten an answer, it was way too long to wait a week until she could write him again.

She packed her small bag of belongings and winnowed to the Forest House. She showed her ID in at the servant’s entrance. The soldiers standing guard were quite tried that evening, so they let her in without too much trouble.

She made sure to close the door to her room before she opened the letter. It was a while since the soldiers had come to her room, but she still never knew when someone would come barging inn.

She carefully opened the envelop and out spilled money. And lots of it too. Ashe’s eyes widened. She was confused as she pulled the letter out of the envelop as well, but before she could open the folded paper, a hard knock was heard from her door.

Ashe immediately started to hide away the money and letter in her small closet. She couldn’t help the feeling of her heart sinking in her chest. It had been such a long time since last time, she thought they had found someone else to take. She knew it would only be worse if she let them wait, so she opened the door.

And looking at her was no other than Eris Vanserra.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 37: Back to Wyoming

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

The next morning, your flight left early for Wyoming. By the afternoon, you were sitting on the couch in the rented cabin, wearing lounge pants and a t-shirt, with your hair up in a messy bun. A nice fire crackled in the fireplace, and your laptop rested on your belly that had seemed to have grown overnight as you read emails. Every once and awhile the baby kicked it, and you had to adjust it, since he apparently didn't like to be used as a table.

Max had taken the rental truck to grab some food, and as he left, it had started to snow gently.

As you sat on the couch, the warmth of the fire provided a cozy contrast to the chilly weather outside. The gentle snow falling outside added a serene touch to the peaceful atmosphere of the cabin. You adjusted your laptop once more as the baby gave another kick, making you smile.

"Alright, little one," you murmured softly, rubbing your belly. "I get it. No laptop table." You set the laptop on the coffee table.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a new message. You picked it up and saw it was from Jake, checking in to see how you were doing.

Jake: Hey darlin', how are you and the little one holding up?

You smiled and quickly typed a reply.

You: We're doing well, just enjoying the cozy cabin. Baby is practicing his karate moves on my laptop. How's everything with you?

A few moments later, Jake's response came through.

Jake: Sounds like he's got a lot of energy! Everything's good here. Coyote and I caught up, and we're just about to head out for some training. Miss you already.

You felt a pang of longing but reassured yourself with the thought of seeing him soon.

You: We miss you too. Stay safe out there. We'll be here waiting for you.

As you put your phone down, you heard the sound of the rental truck pulling up outside. A few minutes later, Max walked in, carrying bags of groceries.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

"Good," you replied, closing your laptop and setting it aside. "Just catching up on some emails and texts from Jake. How was the drive?"

Max shrugged, starting to unpack the groceries. "Not bad. The snow's picking up a bit, but the roads are still clear."

"Perfect for a cozy day in before the crazy court room tomorrow," you said, stretching your arms. "Thanks for grabbing the food."

"No problem," Max replied with a smile. "Thought you might appreciate some fresh supplies."

As he continued unpacking, you got up and joined him in the kitchen, helping to put things away.

Once everything was put away, Max looked at you. "Anything specific you want for dinner?"

You thought for a moment, then smiled. "How about something simple and comforting? Maybe a hearty soup or stew?"

Max nodded. "I can do that. How about beef stew with some fresh bread?"

"That sounds perfect," you agreed, feeling a wave of gratitude for Max's support and friendship. "Thanks, Max. You're a lifesaver."

He chuckled. "Just doing my part. Now, you relax, and I'll get started on dinner."

You headed back to the couch, the comforting sounds of Max preparing dinner filling the cabin.

Just then, your phone rang. Glancing at the screen, you saw it was Mr. Dunby. You quickly answered.

"Mr. Dunby. How are you?" you asked.

"Hello, Y/N. I'm doing well, thank you. How are you holding up?"

"I'm alright," you replied, trying to keep your tone light. "Just settling into the cabin and getting ready for some much-needed rest."

"Good to hear," Mr. Dunby said. "I wanted to update you on a few things regarding your case."

"Oh?"

"The psych evaluation has been done and he has been found competent for tomorrow."

Your heart sank a little at the news. "Competent? So, the hearing is definitely going forward tomorrow?"

"Yes," Mr. Dunby confirmed. "Given this development, we need to be prepared. I know it's short notice, but I need to go over a few things with you to make sure we're ready."

"Of course," you said, trying to steady your voice. "What do I need to do?"

"First, I'll need you to recount the timeline of events in Wyoming, as well as your relationship with Jake. It's important that we clearly establish the context and your side of the story."

"Alright," you said, glancing at the fireplace. "I can do that."

"Second, we need to have any and all documentation ready. I've already gathered most of it, but if there's anything specific you can think of—emails, messages, anything that could support your case—please send it to me as soon as possible."

"I'll go through everything tonight," you replied. "And I'll make sure to have it all ready."

"Good," Mr. Dunby said. "And lastly, I know this is difficult, but try to stay calm and composed. The more straightforward and clear you can be, the better."

"I understand," you said, taking a deep breath. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Dunby."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow at the courthouse. We'll get through this together."

After ending the call, you set your phone down and rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. Max walked over, a concerned look on his face.

"What's going on?" he asked gently.

"The hearing is definitely happening tomorrow," you explained. "And he's been found competent."

Max's expression hardened with determination. "We'll be ready."

Just then, you heard the sound of another vehicle driving up to the house.

Max looked at you. "Is that Chuck?"

"If it's another F-150, then yes."

Max walked over to the window and peeked out. He watched as an older gentleman got out of the black F-150.

"Yup. It's him," he confirmed, walking over to the door and opening it.

Chuck walked in, dusting the snow off his flannel jacket. He nodded at you when he saw you. "Doc."

You smiled at Chuck. "Hey, Chuck. How was the drive?"

"Not too bad," he replied, hanging his jacket on the coat rack by the door. "Snow's starting to pick up, though. Figured I'd get here before it got too heavy."

Max closed the door behind him and turned to Chuck. "Good timing. We were just getting settled in."

Chuck glanced around the cozy cabin, taking in the crackling fire and the relaxed atmosphere. "Nice place you've got here. How are you holding up?" he asked, looking directly at you.

You sighed, running a hand over your growing belly. "It's been a bit overwhelming, but we're managing. Just got off the phone with Mr. Dunby. The hearing is definitely happening tomorrow."

Chuck's expression grew serious. "I heard. You need anything from me?"

"Actually, yes," you said, feeling a sense of relief. "Max said he was going to attempt to make a stew. Do you think you could help him?" you asked jokingly, trying to lighten the mood given the seriousness of the upcoming day.

Chuck chuckled, nodding. "I suppose I can lend a hand. Let's see what kind of mess he’s made in the kitchen."

Max raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Hey, I can cook! Just not as well as Chuck, apparently."

Chuck grinned and patted Max on the back. "Don't worry, we'll get it done right."

You smiled, appreciating the moment of levity. "Thanks, guys. I think we could all use a good meal tonight."

Chuck and Max headed to the kitchen, and you listened to their banter and laughter as they worked. It was comforting to have them both there, making the cabin feel warm and full of life despite the impending seriousness of the next day.

You turned your attention back to your emails. Last night you had sent Jason an email asking him for the notes from last Wyoming study and he sent the large file.

You opened the email from Jason and clicked on the attachment. The file began to download, and you took a deep breath, ready to dive into the research data. As the file opened, you scanned through the notes. You weren't exactly sure how this was going to help you except for jogging your memory, but you glanced through it.

A little while later, the delicious aroma of stew began to fill the cabin. Chuck called out from the kitchen, "Dinner's ready!"

You made your way to the kitchen, feeling a sense of camaraderie and gratitude for the support you had. The three of you sat down at the small dining table, enjoying the hearty stew and each other's company.

"Chuck, when we were in Wyoming four years ago, what did you see about Dorian that I missed? I mean, was I really that naive?" you asked.

Chuck looked at you. "You weren't naive, Doc. You were heartbroken and vulnerable from what happened."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "I just wish I had seen it sooner."

Chuck took a deep breath, leaning against dining table. "Dorian had a way of masking his true self. He was charming and convincing, which made it easy for people to overlook the red flags. You were focused on healing and getting your life back on track. It's not your fault for not seeing through his facade."

You sighed. "I guess I wanted to believe in the best in people, especially after everything that happened."

Chuck nodded understandingly. "That's a part of who you are, and it's a good thing. It just means you're compassionate and hopeful, even when faced with difficult situations. Sometimes, people like Dorian exploit that. But that doesn't make you any less strong or perceptive."

You looked up at him, appreciating his words. "Thanks, Chuck. It helps to hear that."

He gave you a reassuring smile. "You're welcome, Doc."

You looked at your bowl of stew and started moving the spoon around in it, your thoughts drifting as you stirred.

"Not hungry?" Max asked.

You looked up and saw him watching you. "No. It's fine." You took a spoonful of the stew and put it in your mouth.

You had changed into your pajamas and walked slowly to the bed in the room, dimly lit by a small lamp. As you sat down, you glanced at your cellphone, and the picture of you and Jake lit up the screen, bringing a bittersweet smile to your face.

You sighed softly, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you. Looking at the photo, you felt a mixture of longing and love for Jake. You missed him deeply, especially during times like these when everything seemed overwhelming. You scoffed. It wasn't that long ago that you handled everything yourself for four long years and now...that man had come back into your life.

You placed the phone on the nightstand, crawled into the bed and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The sound of the gentle crackling fire from the living room provided a comforting background noise. The baby gave a small kick, reminding you of the new life growing inside you and bringing a smile to your face.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus on the positive. You were surrounded by people who cared about you, and you knew you were stronger than the challenges you faced.

As you lay there, the memories of the past few years washed over you. The struggles, the loneliness, the moments of doubt—all of it seemed distant now, like a shadow that had finally been cast away by the light of Jake's return. His presence had brought back a sense of wholeness you hadn't realized you were missing.

The baby kicked again, a little stronger this time, as if to remind you of the future ahead. You gently placed your hand on your belly, feeling the reassuring movement.

Just then, your phone buzzed with a text notification. Reaching over, you saw it was a message from Jake:

Jake: "Hey darlin', just wanted to check in before I hit the sack. I miss you. Hope you're doing okay. Love you."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. You quickly typed a response:

You: "Miss you too, Jake. Everything's fine here. Get some rest. Love you."

After sending the message, you put the phone back on the nightstand and snuggled deeper into the blankets. The combination of Jake's love, the support from Max and Chuck, and the promise of the new life growing inside you gave you a sense of peace.

Tomorrow would bring its own challenges, but for now, you allowed yourself to relax and drift off to sleep, feeling a sense of hope and strength that you hadn't felt in a long time.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @callsign-barbell @tgmreader @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 [𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑] // 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤

summary: with only your guilt to sit with, you can't help but worry for Alicia's wellbeing and think about what you said to her.

warning/s: mentions of death and injury.

author's note: and this is the final part! hope the person who requested this feels i met the brief haha, that’s all for now but i’m working on some other stuff :)

one / two / three / masterlist / wattpad

After cleaning up and getting into a fresh pair of clothes, all with Ofelia's help, I was able to get into a less volatile state and return to the Clarks, who were still pacing outside the medbay. When they spotted me, they paused and smiled a little, putting me at ease.

"Hey, sweetie, how're you feeling?" Madison asked.

"Better," I answered truthfully, before looking between them both. "I just want to apologise for before. I was hysterical and it wasn't appropriate. Not when your family member is in there, hurt."

"You don't need to apologise," Nick said, nudging my arm. "You're scared. We all are."

I swallowed hard, unsure what to say.

"They're almost done in there," he told me. "They're just wrapping her wounds and we can go in."

At this good news, my heart seemed to return to its normal pace for a moment. "She's okay?"

"She will be," Madison assured me. "It looked worse than it was, but you got her back in time."

I could have cried again at hearing this, but I figured they'd seen enough of my tears, so I settled for a sigh of relief.

The three of us stayed out there for a little longer, Ofelia soon joining us, before we were allowed inside to see her. It was hard for me to imagine anything other than the bloody mess I'd left her there as earlier, but when we approached her bed and saw her looking much better, cleaner and safer, I knew she was truly okay.

Madison and Nick rushed to her side instantly, taking a hand each as she was still unconscious. I felt like I was intruding as Ofelia and I stood to the side, giving them a moment. And then Madison looked up, nodding to me.

"D'you wanna see her?" she asked encouragingly, but I shook my head.

"It's okay," I politely declined, feeling incredibly awkward and also unable to look at her without feeling a sense of shame wash over me.

They didn't say anything about it, and I risked glancing at Alicia once more, my heart aching, but in a different way, when I saw her pale skin, closed eyes and still figure. I couldn't stay here, not when I knew what I'd said to her last – so I dismissed myself before giving them some space, knowing it was for the best.

A few hours later, I was sat outside my cabin, fingers playing with the zip of my jacket mindlessly, when Ofelia found me.

"She's awake," she rushed out breathlessly, a smile on her lips.

I raised my eyebrows, standing up instantly. "She is? Is she– is she okay?"

Ofelia laughed, nodding. "Of course. She's asking for you, c'mon."

She was asking for me? Even after everything I'd said to her?

I nodded slowly, then quickly, then followed after Ofelia when I realised Alicia was waiting for me. It was as if a stone was lodged in my chest as I approached the medbay, walking inside and seeing Alicia's bed, surrounded by her family. When Nick and Madison saw me, they smiled with relief.

"You're here," Madison said, before looking to her son. "C'mon. Let's give them a minute."

I swallowed thickly as they left for a moment, Ofelia squeezing my hand before doing the same. Sucking up a deep breath, I approached Alicia's bedside, eyes falling to the conscious Clark girl as she looked up at me, eyes tired but alive.

"Hey," she started when I didn't, her voice raspy and quiet.

Naturally, my eyes took in the state of her, double checking to make sure she was truly okay. The colour had returned to her cheeks and she seemed pain-free, probably because of the meds running through her IV, and her body was covered by a blanket, so I couldn't see her bandaged wound. Still, she looked pretty weak and it left me with a horrible taste in my mouth, knowing it was because of me.

"You weren't here," she continued, taking a slow breath. "They said you left."

I opened my mouth, "I–", but stopped when my voice broke, taking a second to collect myself. For God's sake, why couldn't I keep it together?

"It's not as bad as it looks," she tried to reassure me, glancing down at her body, before offering me a small smile.

I blinked my tears back, shaking my head. "Isn't it?"

Her smile faded, green eyes boring through mine cluelessly, and I began to frown guiltily.

"You wouldn't have gotten hurt if we hadn't argued," I told her regretfully, "if I hadn't said what I did."

"Y/N, you couldn't have known it was booby trapped," she said, before reaching out her hand towards me.

I grabbed it, squeezing it gently, but I still felt horrible. "But we could have gone together if I hadn't pushed you away."

Embarrassed yet again, I turned my head and forcefully wiped my tears away, the thought of almost losing her reigniting them.

"It's okay," she tried to reassure me, tugging my hand with what little strength she had.

"It's not," I muttered, voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Alicia."

"Don't be," she said sternly, tugging my hand harder, forcing me to look down at her and see the determination in her eyes. "You brought me here when I could've died. You saved me. I should be thanking you."

I clenched my jaw, trying to stop the trembling, and let go of her hand. She began to frown, eyes flickering between mine.

"Don't push yourself away again, please," she begged, eyes becoming glossy. "You might not need me, but I need you."

My heart ached as she stared at me, refusing to look away, her heart on her sleeve. I'd almost lost her, just as I'd feared, and it hadn't mattered whether I was with her or not. Losing people was impossible to prevent and it could happen, just like that. It almost had with Alicia, and I could've lost her having acted so horribly towards her. God, I was a fool.

"When my mum died, it happened so unexpectedly," I suddenly said, knowing I was making no sense, but everything was coming out all at once. "I wasn't prepared, and it's the hardest thing I've ever had to go through."

"I'm sorry," she said considerately.

I shrugged. "You don't need to be. It happened randomly. Just like losing people in our tribe did. Death doesn't have a warning label, and I stupidly thought I could push people away so I'd never have to feel loss again."

I closed my eyes, pausing as I tried to collect myself, not wanting to cry again. And then Alicia's hand slipped into mind, and I opened my eyes, holding tightly as I met her green, attentive stare.

"My dad, he won't talk about it, but he does the same. It's why he struggles to trust people," I continued. "As much as I hate that about him, I take after him. And I don't want to anymore... I'm tired of being alone. I... I don't want to push people away anymore."

"You don't have to," she said with certainty.

"I know," I murmured. "Because almost losing you today only reminded me that it could happen any time, anywhere, no matter the circumstances. And I just– I don't want to ever lose you, not like this, not after all the horrible stuff I said to you."

She looked between my eyes, searching. "What are you saying?"

I took her hand between both of mine. "I'm saying that I need you, too. And I'm so fucking sorry. And, if you forgive me, I'd love to have a second chance. One that I won't screw up."

My heart was hammering so loudly in my chest that I wouldn't have been surprised if she could hear it in the silence that followed. Her hand between mine made my skin go numb, and the longer she said nothing, the more anxious I grew. Had I fucked it?

"Of course, you idiot," she finally muttered, before smiling weakly.

I exhaled deeply, feeling a weight off my chest, and then she pulled me down and wrapped her arms around my neck the best she could, hugging me. I tucked my head into her neck as I tried my best to return her hug, despite her laying down, and my guilt was somewhat shrinking.

"I know I'm not good at talking about how I feel," I said to her, pulling away but cupping her cheek, hovering above her as I held my weight up with my other hand. "I'm going to try to be better, I promise."

She closed her eyes, hand behind my neck and pulling me closer so our foreheads were touching. "I know. I appreciate it, Y/N."

I revelled in the moment for a few seconds longer before pulling back, smiling down at her. "You should rest."

"I will," she promised. "You'll stay this time, right?"

I squeezed her hand in response. "I'm not leaving."

Her lips curved into a tired smile, eyes watching me and making me nervous, before closing contently.

As promised, I kept Alicia company for as much as I could during her recovery. Over the next few days, when her family weren't sat with her, I'd stay by her side and try to take her mind off things.

One lunchtime, I was making her a tray of food to bring back to the medbay when my father bumped into me on the way back to her.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "What're you up to?"

I lifted the tray in my hand slightly. "Just getting some lunch for Alicia."

He nodded, eyebrows raising. "Ah, yes, of course. Y'know, it's nice to see that you've both resolved whatever argument you were having. It was starting to get weird, watching you ignore each other."

I smiled a little. "Yeah... it was my fault, but we've sorted everything out now."

"Well, you've been spending basically every waking moment with her since she got hurt, so you'd find the time, wouldn't you?" he joked, but it still made my face heat up with embarrassment.

"I just want her to be okay, dad," I tried to say dismissively, but it wasn't very believable.

He nodded, humming in agreement, eyes looking out ahead. I assumed the conversation had ended there, until he looked back to me casually.

"You like her, don't you?" he asked.

I blinked, trying not to choke on my own spit. "I'm sorry?"

An amused smile appeared on his face as he gave me a knowing look. "Y/N, dear, I'm not blind. I know my own daughter. You care for Alicia, in a way more than a friend does."

If I wasn't warm before, I certainly was now, especially the longer he stared at me, awaiting confirmation. But I was too cornered to speak. It's not that Alicia and I were hiding it, but there was nothing to share just yet, with everything being so new. I hadn't even had chance to prepare an answer.

"it's okay," he assured me, noticing I wouldn't speak. "I won't say anything to Madison. But she's not blind either."

Swallowing hard, I finally looked up at him. "Is it wrong of me to like her?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Alicia's a good girl. And she seems to care about you a lot. And as far as I'm concerned, that's all that matters."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting him to say, but that seemed good enough as I began to smile with relief, glad he approved. He pulled me in for a side hug, wary of the tray in my hand, before squeezing my shoulders gently.

"You should head back or she'll be wondering why you're taking so long," he said lightheartedly. "After all, you've breathed the same air for the past forty-eight hours."

"Dad," I whined, embarrassed yet again.

He laughed before leaving me to it, and only after I was sure I wasn't bright red in the face did I head back to Alicia. When she spotted me, she gave me a smile, already sat up.

"Here you go," I said, returning her smile and setting the tray on her lap.

She looked down at it, grabbing her fork. "Ooh, it looks great, thanks, Y/N."

I took a seat on the chair beside her bed, quiet as she dug in. My eyes drifted to the bed as I zoned out momentarily, thinking about my exchange with my dad earlier.

"You okay?" Alicia asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I looked up, meeting her eyes. "Oh, yeah. I... just thinking."

She quirked a brow, amused. "About?"

I leaned back into my seat. "My dad knows about us both."

She paused, fork lowering to her plate. "What?"

"He just said it then. I'm not sure how he knows, he claims he's not blind, but yeah. And he thinks maybe your mum knows too."

She was surprised, but nodded. "Oh."

I hummed, looking away awkwardly. We hadn't talked about telling anyone, so I wasn't sure what she was thinking.

"Is that a bad thing?"

I glanced at her, raising my brows. "What?"

She nodded slowly, looking at her plate. "If they know that we both... that we're more than friends. Is that a bad thing?"

"Of course it isn't," I said, surprised at her reaction, though I wasn't sure what to expect. "I just– I wasn't sure if you wanted them to know."

"I don't mind," she admitted, before smiling a little. "If my mum brings it up like your dad did, then great, otherwise I'll tell her soon."

I nodded in agreement, hiding my smile. "Okay. Sounds, er, sounds good."

She nodded too, stifling her own smile as she returned her attention to her food.

"Okay, pick another letter," Alicia said, pen to the scrap of paper as she waited. "And not 'a', 'e' or 'u'."

"So almost all the vowels aren't in the word," I said with impatience. "Seriously, what word did you pick?"

She laughed, saying nothing as she waited for me to choose again. We were playing hangman and I was losing terribly, but it didn't matter so much because it was keeping Alicia's mind off her injury.

Before I could think of another letter to guess, the sound of someone approaching made us both look up and we saw Nick walking towards us, probably to spend some time with his sister.

"Ladies," he nodded towards us, settling on a chair on the other side of Alicia's bed.

"Hey," we greeted him in unison, and I was about to ask if he wanted to play with us before he spoke up again.

"So, you guys are dating now, right?"

I widened my eyes slightly, as Alicia looked just as surprised, neither of us expecting his bluntness.

"What?" she asked him.

"Mum mentioned it," he explained.

Alicia cursed quietly, whilst I wasn't sure how to respond. I knew she'd told Madison yesterday, but not Nick. Not that it was a secret, but we didn't know he knew.

"Relax," he said, laughing. "I'm just teasing you. Thought it would be funny to see your faces, and right now, they're hilarious."

Alicia and I exchanged embarrassed glances, her cheeks dusting pink, before looking back to Nick.

"For the record, I called it," he added with a knowing look.

Alicia rolled her eyes playfully. "Not funny, Nick. But at least you know."

I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks yet again, especially when he began to laugh, glancing between us both. At least everyone important to us knew now.

It was almost two weeks later when Alicia was growing antsy in the medbay, adamant on getting up and stretching her legs. Of course, she was still wounded and couldn't do just that, but we'd managed to source her some crutches to let her enjoy at least a little bit of time outside.

"Okay, carefully now," I told her as she swung her legs off the side of the bed. "No rush, Alicia, okay?"

"I know, sorry, I'm just excited to get out of here," she admitted, before gently pushing herself off the bed and into a standing position.

I stood before her, ready to catch her in case she fell. Once she straightened up, she toppled forward slightly and I was luckily able to stop her from going anywhere, my concern taking over.

"Careful," I repeated nervously, not wanting her to aggravate her injury. "You okay?"

She nodded, squeezing my arm reassuringly before accepting the crutches I handed to her.

"Harder than I thought, sorry," she mumbled, before settling her weight on the crutches.

"Maybe there's a wheelchair or something we can find," I tried to help, "if you're not up for walking just yet."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "C'mon, I'm not completely useless, am I?"

I rested a hand on her forearm comfortingly. "I didn't say that."

She sighed, before shaking her head. "I'm okay. Just want some fresh air."

"Okay," I agreed, before taking a step back. "Whenever you're ready, Alicia."

We took a stroll out of the medbay and around the ranch, giving her time to get used to walking with the assistance of crutches and also letting her enjoy the fresh air and change of scenery. A lot of the ranchers were happy to see her, having befriended her in the past, and shared some conversations with her before making sure I promised to take care of her. It was sweet, and it especially made my day to see Alicia looking a lot happier than she had these past few days.

"You've gotta show me the garden now," she said after another rancher greeted us. "I've gotta see how ruined it is since you've been slacking on your duties."

I couldn't help but crack a smile at her joke. "Last time I checked, I was slacking to keep you company in the medbay."

She laughed, before leading the way to the garden.

"Ofelia has been keeping an eye on it," I assured her, before we stopped in the field where the section Alicia and I managed was. "See? Just like it should be."

"Mhm," Alicia hummed, before shooting me a smile. "I suppose it's looking good."

I rolled my eyes playfully before tugging her towards a nearby bench. "C'mon, you need a break."

"Sorry, mum."

I refrained from glaring at her as we both sat down, and I chose not to comment on the relieved sigh she let out when she had a minute to relax. An 'I told you so' would have felt good though.

"How're you feeling?" I asked instead, resting a hand on her knee.

She grabbed it instead, holding it as she spoke. "Not in any pain, if that's what you're worried about. The fresh air is nice. So is spending some time with you."

I tried not to laugh as I raised an eyebrow her way. "What, like the past week hasn't been enough?"

With a deadpan expression, she shook her head. "It hasn't."

I didn't know what to say, sensing half of her teasing self was being serious. Instead, I looked the other way, feeling my cheeks heat up as she smiled, still watching me.

Thankfully, she changed the subject and we both sat there for a little while longer, talking about the garden and the ranch and anything else she wanted to. It was funny how, even though we'd spent the past two weeks keeping each other company, I still had so much to talk to her about. She was the best company to be around.

Eventually though, I checked my watch before realising we'd been out for too long.

"Your next dose of meds is due soon," I said regretfully, not wanting to leave. "We should head back."

Judging by her quiet groan, she didn't want to leave either, but she nodded and straightened up, stretching her arms.

"Back to the medbay we go," she said, yawning.

I stood up before stepping before her to help her up too. I didn't anticipate how close she would be stood to me though, and when she smiled softly, I grew very, very distracted by her lips.

"Y/N," she muttered with amusement, making my eyes flicker to hers briefly. "The crutches?"

I nodded, eyes falling back down to her lips. "Yeah..."

She laughed when I didn't move, but I couldn't help it. Her lips were pink, soft-looking and enticing, and all I wanted to was lean forward and kiss her. I hadn't found the courage to kiss her properly, not since the last kiss we shared when I ran away afterwards. She'd forgiven me for it, sure, but I didn't want to push my luck and rush things between us. It had only been two weeks since we'd started up a relationship.

Swallowing hard, I stepped back and tried to snap out of it, instead grabbing her crutches that were leaning against the bench. As I was about to hand them back to her, she called my name, making me look up. I didn't get chance to think as she suddenly pressed her lips to mine, hands cupping my neck and pulling me close.

I closed my eyes in a second, melting into her touch and her lips and wrapping my own arms around her waist, refusing to let go. It was amazing how perfect she seemed to fit against me, and how I didn't want it any other way.

My lips were numb when we finally pulled apart for air, and when I opened my eyes, I was submerged in pools of green.

"You think too much," she said quietly, a soft smile on her face.

I swallowed hard. "I know."

Her hands were still around the back of my neck, fingers moving and sending shivers down my spine. "Sometimes, it's okay not to."

I exhaled gently, smiling a little. "If only it were that easy."

She let out a sharp breath from her nose, trying not to laugh. "You'll get there," she promised, before kissing me again, though this time much slower and softer than before.

[transvampireboyfriend]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

A few joints and some charades rounds later, they all start yawning.

The night gets cold and they start walking back to the cabin.

Argyle and Nance go first, complaining that it's too cold for them to keep trying to guess or make hand gestures themselves. They grab their trash bag and head back.

The fire burns down into embers as the rest of them play a last round of charades.

The game turns into a music discussion and then that turns into Steve and Eddie sharing music with each other, discussing  the albums their moms played when they were little, while Jonathan and Robin excitedly discuss music instruments and how they first learned to read music sheets.

They don't even notice that Robs and Jon get up to leave until Robin calls back to Steve.

"You better not be too loud when you come back, Dingus, I'm going straight to bed" she says,

It's her way of saying 'we're leaving, so you and Eddie can be alone'.

Steve loves her so much. He gives her two thumbs up and she laughs.

"You know I never imagined our musical meeting point would be Billie Holiday," Eddie muses, not moving from his place next to Steve,

Steve's smile grows wider and he tears his eyes away from Robin to turn back to Eddie.

"I feel like it makes sense" Steve says,

"Yeah?" Eddie asks.

His chocolate eyes roam Steve's face and Steve is reminded of him doing the same thing that week when they (officially) met, Eddie's mouth smiling around his name and making Steve's heart skip a beat.

"Yeah. Somehow." Steve says, thinking of songs that are way too romantic for him to be thinking about right now.

Eddie smiles too, his nose is all red from being outside all day and Steve wants to touch it, wants to feel the little bit of sun that now lives in his skin. Instead, he basks in being the sole focus of his attention.

He sees Eddie's eyes drift up, where his bandana is still sitting against Steve's hair.

"Do you need it back?" Steve asks, "Do you have an emotional connection to this thing?" he teases,

Eddie snickers, "If I didn't before-" he trails off,

Steve feels butteflies flutter about his stomach, he tries to hide his giddiness and elbows Eddie's side.

Eddie laughs and sways with it before he straightens up again,

"No, but, what I was thinking was-" Eddie starts, reaching up to tug on the scrunchie that he's wearing, letting his hair fall down to his shoulders again.

Steve's smile fades as he watches the strands fall around him, Eddie is so pretty, Steve wants to comb his fingers through his hair, use it to tilt his head back. He catches a whiff of strawberry shampoo and tries to stop himself from eagerly breathing it in.

"Since you seem so happy grabbing my things," Eddie's saying, "maybe you could take care of this for me?"

He holds the scruchie up and doesn't wait for an answer, grabbing one of Steve's wrists.

His fingers are warm against Steve's cooling skin.

"Nance would kill me if I lose it, so it's important that I don't." Eddie explains, placing the accessory on Steve's wrist and holding it there,

"Do you think I could trust you with it?" Eddie asks, his eyes finding Steve's again.

His eyes draw Steve in, he feels hypnotized and the question feels weighted, like Eddie's not just talking about the scrunchie.

Steve feels like he's standing at the edge of a precipice, he's always let himself fall in way too deep, way too fast. But somehow, now, with Eddie, it doesn't feel like a dangerous thing.

Enough time has passed that he trusts Eddie. Really, he did since the beginning, but now, Steve feels like he knows him, and trusts what he knows of him, and he wants Eddie to trust him too.

He licks his lips and answers "Yeah. You can." his voice is weighed down by the significance of what they're saying and he hopes his half-whisper lets Eddie know he means it, for this and for anything else he might be asking.

Eddie half-smiles, a small thing that Steve's never seen before and feels sweeter than all the s'mores they've eaten tonight.

"Thank you." Eddie whispers, leaning into the space between them almost imperceptibly, but Steve notices.

He realizes he's smiling back and leans in too, their shoulders brushing. They're both focused on the others' lips, breathing shallowly, and just as Steve's about to close the distance,

"Guys! can you bring back the popcorn bowls?" Nancy yells from the cabin,

Startled, they both immediately jump apart.

Steve clears his throat so hard he ends up coughing a little.

Eddie sighs heavily.

"Would've thrown them into the fucking fire, if we still had one," he grumbles under his breath,

Steve snorts and feels his cheeks burning up as he chuckles. Eddie looks at him and joins in.

"GUYS!" it's Jonathan this time, making them both jump in their seats again.

"Yuh-huh! Coming!" Eddie yells back, he turns to Steve and shakes his head, rolling his eyes like they're the most annoying thing to ever happen to him.

Steve loves his theatrics. He bites his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Finally, Eddie gets up from his seat, picks up the bowls and looks at Steve again.  When he finds him beaming, Eddie winks. Steve wants to melt into the ground.

"Come on," Eddie says, jerking his head to the side,"before they come drag us by the ears,"

Steve huffs. He wipes his hands on his thighs, trying to sober up.

When he stands up and grabs their cooler, Eddie extends a hand out to him, an uncertain look on his face.

Steve doesn't hesitate to take it, interlacing their fingers together.

⋆ * ⋆🌙 ⋆ * ⋆

Eddie feels a current of energy go through him when Steve interlaces their fingers.

He feels jittery with it, wants to swing their hands back and forth, but settles for swiping his thumb over Steve's wrist as they walk, his finger softly jostling the scrunchie he put there earlier.

After a few paces, Steve subtly steps closer to Eddie. His sleeves are still rolled up all the way and Eddie can see him shivering a bit.

"You cold?" Eddie asks,

"Mmhm." Steve confirms, "Why? are you gonna throw another vest at me?"

It catches Eddie off guard, startles a laugh out of him and leaves Steve looking so smug, squeezing their hands.

"I'm not sorry," Eddie says, "you wore that thing for hours,"

Steve grins, "Still do." he counters, his smile is so bright, Eddie can't get enough of it.

"Hmm," Eddie nods, "it looks good on you", he adds,

Steve looks up at him and their eyes get stuck together for a few steps.

Until Eddie has to go and trip over nothing.

"Fuck." Eddie mutters under his breath, immediately jumping into a wide stance so he won't bring them both tumbling down.

"Oop. Careful" Steve says at the same time, extending the hand holding the cooler in front of them to prevent Eddie from falling over.

Steve looks at his stance then, and apparently finds it funny, "Are you okay?" he asks, his honeyed eyes telling on the laugh he's holding back.

Eddie softly yanks on their joined hands in protest but can't help the smile that mirrors Steve's.

"Don't. Laugh at me." Eddie chuckles,

"I'm not! " Steve laughs,

Eddie shakes his head and resumes their walk, dragging Steve along by their joined hands.

Steve catches up quickly, now boldly pressing their sides together.

"Almost there" Eddie tells him, feeling a bit helpless because he was gonna offer his jacket, but now he feels silly.

"I think I'll make it" Steve whispers, copying Eddie's earlier motion, rubbing his thumb against Eddie's palm.

His skin is so soft and warm, it makes Eddie want to drag Steve's hand up and place it against the back of his own neck. He tries not to shiver at the thought.

When they get to the cabin, Eddie opens the door for Steve and is rewarded by a squeeze of his hand before Steve lets go.

Steve's amber eyes shine in the front porch's yellow light and he whispers a small 'thank you' as he goes in before Eddie.

Eddie thinks if Steve doesn't stop being so sweet, his heart is gonna fly out of his chest.

part 8

[ribbonsflyingoutthewindow]

Bucky Barnes Bingo Party Prompt Fill 3: Pirates!

You know how much I love pirates.

I guess it’s all G-rated. And gen. But it could definitely lead to any number of places. Use your imagination.

—⍟-⍟-⍟—

“I’ll not surrender.”

The captain stood at the wheel with a determined look. Natasha was undaunted and she relaxed nearby. She was supposed to be scrubbing the sides of the quarterdeck, but Natasha did things on her own time.

“Barnes,” she said, stepping closer and taking the handle of the wheel into her own hand so he would listen. “No one is trying to take your ship from you at this moment. No one is trying to take your head either. You should listen to him.”

“His papers give him the authority to bring me in in chains and you know where I’d go from there.”

“I also know you picked him up from a desolate spit of land.” she said looking out at other crewmen. “Would you rather we have ignored his cries for help?”

“With the knowledge I have now?”

“You’re a good man, James,” Natasha said softer. “Stop pretending otherwise. You’d be sleepless if we had left him stranded. Besides, he wouldn’t have lasted but another two days. He owes you.”

“It wasn’t worth it. We shouldn’t have picked him up. Someone else would have come along.”

“And if they continued on and left him as well?”

The captain didn’t reply. He was sailing the opposite direction from where he had been on course to go earlier that morning. He had awoken with every intention of following the coast up to Brooklyn Harbor, but now with their newly acquired passenger, he had recharted them back toward Hispaniola. It was safer there.

—⍟-⍟-⍟—

“We don’t have the supplies,” Sam, his quartermaster told him in his cabin a few hours later. “Not for that distance.”

“We’ll get them.” Natasha didn’t seem concerned as she cleaned a pistol that had fallen into the water. “We always do.”

“And you expect me to share with the man who is after the bounty on our heads?” Barnes looked incredulous. “I have half a mind to send him back over into the water.”

Sam and Natasha looked at Captain Barnes expectantly, and the man angrily threw a knife so that it stuck in the doorframe.

“Go eat something and take some rest. You’re irrational and impossible like this.”

Barnes had paid so little attention to them that he wasn’t even sure which of his employees had just called him out.

Both the quartermaster and gunner left Barnes alone without further comment so the captain was forced to entertain himself. He looked over at the knife sticking out of the wood of the doorframe.

“I should have employed you instead of them,” he told the cat sitting on his desk.

Alpine reached a white paw out toward him and didn’t offer any further advice.

—⍟-⍟-⍟—

It took two more days for the captain to visit the man they had picked up from the deserted island. He was staying as their prisoner in the brig.

“I see you’re still drawing air,” Barnes said, leaning against the outside of the bars. “Regrettably.”

The prisoner, a man calling himself Steven Rogers, grasped the bars and pulled himself to his feet.

“Thank you again, Sir,” he said weakly. “For saving my life. I am in your debt.”

“You hunt down wanted fugitives for the Crown,” Barnes told him. “Had I known, I would have sailed on past you. You deserved that fate.”

Rogers looked confused.

“No, Sir, Captain. I do no such thing.”

“Don’t lie to me. I saw your affects. You have warrants for several of my crew and many others. No doubt a hearty sum waiting for you when you-“

“Captain,” the man in the cell argued. “I lifted those warrants from another. I lifted those warrants and jumped from the Hydra with them and my bag of supplies. I had water and jerky enough for several days, but I lost it in the swim. I wasn’t marooned on that strip. I had jumped and swam for it with intent. It’s on a major coastal passageway. Someone else was bound to find me. And without his warrants, Rumlow cannot take anyone into his custody.”

Captain Barnes took a step back and watched the man hold himself up right and meet his eye.

“I swear to you,” Rogers said, raising his hand outward in a solemn vow. “You didn’t finish looking through the warrants, did you? After you saw your name in the stack of papers, you never looked at the rest.”

“What makes you think that?” Barnes asked. He swallowed at the memory because he distinctly recalled lighting his warrant on fire and casting the others aside.

Rogers looked out from between the bars of his cell with a look of determination not unlike the one Barnes had been sporting moments before.

“Because if you had finished looking through them, you would have found my name on one too. I’m saving our lives.”

—⍟-⍟-⍟—

Bucky Barnes Bingo - B3: Historical AU

Black Widow Bingo - N2: Castaway AU

LGBTQ Bingo - O3: Bad ending

Warm & Fluffy Bingo - O3: Saved Their Life

AFG AU Bingo - G3: Prison AU

Bad Things Happen Bingo - B4: Bounty on Their Head

@buckybarnesbingo

[bellygunnr]

Trueno Twitterpation

A commission piece for @lyndexv of their OC Geoff reviving a sentient AE86! It was an absolute blast to write.

----

The AE86 was a cowering, sorry mess when he first discovered her, wheels stuck fast in dry-wet-dry again mud ruts and strapped down by voracious forest overgrowth. How she got there evades Geoff still, as her previous handler had long since passed and the one before him just wanted her gone. He'd all too eagerly dragged her out of her mire and onto a tow truck. The sunlight'd been good for her on that trip, though. Under the muck, her paint had taken on a faint glow, which he kept an eye on until she was practically a fireball trailing him home.

Now she's clean. Physically, at least. Her tires are new and so is her paint. And she stares at him plaintively from his driveway, headlights popped up, drawing his full attention repeatedly until he can do nothing but give in to her call. It's nice outside, at least. A pleasant day with a breeze. His skin itches, like he imagines the Trueno's does, a restless buzzing that urges him to unlock her driver's door and drop inside, stretching out to fill the cabin with all the languidness of a cat in a sunbeam.

He runs his hands along the hard edge of her utilitarian dashboard, key pinned against his palm with his thumb. Dust floats up in fits and bursts as he does so, becoming a thin veneer that the low outside sun diffuses in. The restlessness becomes electric, then, and he hurries to turn the key in the ignition over.

The dashboard lights gradually warm to life. The engine, not so much. The AE86 trembles under his hands, her anxiety as acute as a storm's ozone, her shame a pulsing heat between his eyes, like tears. 

"Hey, hey," he says gently. "Don't be upset. I know it's hard. It's not your fault."

The Trueno's frame judders hard with the force of the engine cranking. Fuel sparks, but it's both too much and not enough, and he sees smoke filter pitifully from her backend through the rear view mirror while the engine sputters back out. He pats the top of her dash consolingly.

It's terrible. She's willing, he can feel it, but there's-- problems. Barriers. Age. Disuse. Abuse. And it's killing her.

"I'll be right back. Alright? I've got a couple ideas."

He runs his hand across her dash one more time. Heat bleeds between them, lingering all the way to the hardware store, which he bikes to. When he comes back, he's significantly poorer and weighed down by car parts.

But it's a nice day. They've got time to burn. He has the tools.

And she's willing.

--

Geoff pulls out spark plugs that are black and burnt. He swaps them out for new iridium-tipped ones. Then he pulls the air filter and the carburetor and that's a new round of problems-- running is to survival as driving is to living, can't have one if you're the other, so he's glad he bought a rebuild kit for the carb. 

"Guess we'll have to go for that drive tomorrow. Sorry, girl," he sighs. "But this won't take long. I'll get you put back together."

The wind blows. One of the headlights abruptly droops, as if the '86 is winking in acknowledgement. Geoff carefully lowers the hood down and clamps it shut.

"Just sit tight."

He ducks into his garage.

---

The carb body has to soak and dry, and be brushed through. He sits at his workshop bench with the flood light on and goes through the floater, the jet screws, all of it, until it is whole and hale. His back burns with the full attention of the AE86 (or maybe he's just imagining it). (It's getting hard to tell).

It's dark out by the time he's done and that's okay. He drags his light source out with him, making multiple runs for the tools, until the AE86 is open and waiting. She's cool to the touch now that the sun's gone. She patiently abides Geoff's fumbling around in her engine bay.

"That should help with some of it. New air filter. Rebuilt carburetor-- I changed the settings, too, just to keep up with things. That'll feel good in the morning."

He's numb with cold by the time he's done. She bounces on her suspension when he closes her hood one more time, finished for the night. His hands linger on the panel of her closed headlamp.

"Good night," Geoff says.

---

He ends up sleeping in too late the next day. The shrill beep of a horn-- not French, he thinks bizarrely-- wakes him up with a shout. He's halfway out the door in just a t-shirt and boxers before his brain catches up with his body and he stares hard at his driveway, confused.

Clouds skate across the sky. A bird lingers atop his mailbox.

The AE86 has not moved an inch. But--

"I'm gonna go get dressed," he tells her. 

And he does, in record time. The Trueno's key bites into his palm with a sort of nervous energy. He's still not fully awake, but he's jittery in a suppressed adrenaline, pre-interview, post-accident kind of way. It's usually not a good start to a day. But this feels alright.

The driver's door is ajar before he even pulls the handle. He pauses, but shrugs and slides into the seat, letting muscle memory guide him until the engine is cranking.

It hangs.

"Come on, girl," he urges quietly. 

He twists the key again.

With a pop, the four cylinders start to go, and everything buzzes to life.

"Brilliant!" Geoff cries. "I knew it! I hope that feels good!"

His face twinges from smiling so broadly. Experimentally, he revs the engine, watching the needle smoothly sail from idle to 2000, 3000, and drop back down. There's some rough bubbling-- but she's not quitting. Good. Fantastic, even.

He drops into first gear. Very gently, they work together, easing out of the driveway and onto the gravel road beyond. She snarls a little passing into second into third, but stays true.

Excitement suffuses him. He can't tell if it's all his emotions or something else. But it doesn't matter. Geoff cranks the windows down, waves at a passing motorist. They don't understand.

That's okay.

They end up driving to the coast. After some time, he feels the urge to pull off onto the side of the road, where a breeze has picked up and drags in the scent of the sea, mixing in with the tang of grass. It's picturesque. His heart is still beating fast.

The Trueno idles along. Geoff tenses suddenly.

Thank you, he hears.

"What?" He blurts out.

Thank you, is repeated. For saving me as you did.

The voice is entirely in his head. Yet he can hear it. Hear her. And he knows in his bones that he's hearing Her, the '86, her chassis trembling with the raucous motion of her engine. This adrenaline. This joy. His, but not his alone. Hers, too.

"I'd do it again," he says stiltedly. "And I'll keep fixing you up until there's nothing wrong with you."

He hears her wheels crunch in the gravel. The blunt curve of a fender presses up against his legs.

Of course. I have full faith in you.

Geoff scrubs at his face, trying to hide a rapidly rising blush. She can't just SAY that! He turns around, only to find the Trueno shaking on her rear-suspension, in a rather identifiable pattern. Of course. 

"The feeling's mutual," he gets out.

They're both glad it's such a nice day out.