#just step back and decide what's best for you

[heartsforjh]

Reactions To You Falling

main masterlist

Includes: Sidney Crosby, Quinn Hughes, Jack Hughes, Luke Hughes, Cole Caufield, Kirby Dach, Juraj Slafkovsky, Macklin Celebrini, Will Smith, William Eklund, Matt Rempe, Dylan Strome, Ryan Leonard, Clayton Keller, Jake Oettinger, and Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen (it’s a LOT, i know 😭)

Sidney Crosby: The two of you would be walking downtown for date night when you get a sudden burst of energy and just have to run. You’ve got no destination but that’s no problem considering you end up flat on the concrete. Sid just sighs from behind you, watching as you sit yourself up. “Are you okay?” he’d ask. Once he’s sure you’re gonna be alright he’s going on and on about how he doesn’t know why you’d think that was a good idea, and how you need to be more careful as if it wasn’t just a regular, harmless fall. 

Quinn Hughes: You’re making a recipe that you discovered online, and when you turn from the island to the counter you lose your footing, falling straight to the ground. Quinn… who is sitting at the table on his laptop sees the entire thing, but when he also sees that you’re getting up he quickly focuses his attention back on the computer in front of him. Honestly, you tripping over nothing was embarrassing, but of course, he didn’t want you to feel that way. When you dust yourself off and see that he’s still minding his own business, you get right back to yours–glad nobody saw. Once your recipe is done, you excitedly bring it to him to try. He does his best to indirectly ask how you are after the fall, greeting you with a smile and a, “How you doing, baby?” 

Jack Hughes: You and Jack are about to be late to an event you have after his practice. Naturally, you guys decide to run out to the car. Jack is holding your hand in his–practically dragging you along. You take one wrong step and immediately go down, which he finds hilarious. He’s doubling down laughing at you as you just sit there blank faced, “Are you done, yet? Cause we really have to go, yaknow?” When he finally collects himself enough he makes his way over to you, trying to help you up. He’s still laughing at your expense–just being slightly more helpful in the process. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I actually am. I’m not trying to laugh, I swear.” He gets you back on your feet, presses a kiss to your cheek, and goes right back to trying to rush you out of the doors. 

Luke Hughes: Luke would be just like Quinn–except ten times more awkward. The two of you are probably walking through a big room, deep in conversation when your foot catches on something and you drop. You sit there for a second in silence before looking up at him. and he’s just straight staring into your soul. “Uh…  you good?” he’d ask, not exactly sure what the next move is. “Need help?” You just smile and shake your head, politely declining, “Nah, that’s okay,” is what you conjure up in response, not doing any better than him at helping the somehow mutually embarrassing situation. And though you initially declined, Luke still gives you a hand in getting back up, suddenly remembering how to be a gentleman. 

Cole Caufield: Cole does a much better job at achieving what Quinn and Luke were going for. When you fall whilst literally just walking outside with him, he does laugh at you. However, it’s because he’s constantly telling you to laugh at yourself and to not take anything too seriously. So after he’s helped you back up, you don’t really care that much and you’re able to move past it with his encouragement–just like that! 

Kirby Dach: You and Kirby are skating on an outdoor rink when you lose your balance and absolutely eat snow. “Babe… are you alright? That was nasty!” he says, stopping and helping you up with a chuckle. He’s very clearly trying to hold back from laughing even more as he helps you up, but he’s also wrapping you in a hug for comfort so it’s the thought that counts. “Let’s call it a day on the ice, yeah? We can go eat or something,” he says, guiding you in front of him to step off, trying his very best to hide his snickers as he replays the fall in his head. 

Juraj Slafkovsky: You and Slaf really quickly decide to run into the corner store for some snacks—planning on a movie date back at the apartment. While he’s searching around—picking out your favorites, you glance out the window and see that it’s started to pour. “Oh no… Juraj, look,” you tap him to get his attention. “Ooh. That’s not good,” he says, staring out at the rain, deep in thought. “We can just run!” Your shoulders slump when that’s the best solution he could come up with, but you know you couldn’t do much better. “I don’t think running will keep the rain from getting on us, honey.” He nods, kissing your cheek, and making his way towards the counter. “I know, but we will be out there for a shorter time.” Good enough. Once the snacks are paid for you go to the door and Juraj takes his jacket off, hovering it over your head. “Here, you can have this as an umbrella.” You frown. “What about you?” He smiles and shakes his head. “I’m okay. I like rain. So, we can just keep you dry!” His thoughtfulness absolutely warms your heart. If it weren’t for the task at hand, you’d be all over him. He counts down from three and the two of you take off. But of course, just your luck… when you step off of the curb, your foot slips and suddenly, you’re soaked. “Oh! Sweetheart, you okay?” he asks, frantically grabbing you to pick you up. He hugs your waist tight once you’re up. “I feel so bad. Are you feeling hurt?” his voice is full of sadness. “I’m okay, babe. Don’t worry. But, I guess you can have the jacket back. It’s not gonna do much for me anymore,” you reply, the both of you laughing it off before walking back to the car. 

Macklin Celebrini: Someway, somehow, you and Mack have ended up in your living room, his hands resting gently on your waist—your own around his neck. “You gotta really feel the music, babe,” he says with a nod. “Mack, its slow dancing. You don’t have to feel anything but like… romance,” you frown. “Okay… well, is this romantic?” he asks, going to spin you, but you’re unaware so you don’t lift your arm with his—getting hit in the face and falling onto your butt instead. Macklin’s whole face turns white and he’s instantly crouching down and grabbing you, trying to help. “I’m so sorry! That was an accident. Are you okay?” He feels extremely guilty, but when you just laugh it off he lets out a sigh of relief. “That was not romantic, no.” 

Will Smith: You and Will pull up to your apartment building and park. He goes around to your side of the car and opens the door for you. You shoot him a small smile, gathering your things and stepping out. Only, your foot never lands. Instead, it just swoops through the air causing you to fall straight to the ground with a loud splat. It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in your life, and when you look up to see Will just staring at you with his jaw dropped it does not help. The poor guy is dumbfounded, like he doesn’t know how to even begin comprehending what just happened. “Are you okay, sweet girl? You fell,” he finally manages to get out. “Yes, Will. I noticed,” you reply, looking back at him, completely unamused. He just stands there deep in thought for a good minute, sighs, then helps you back up. “That was crazy. Please don’t do that again.” 

William Eklund: You’re sat down looking at yourself in the phone camera, doing a get ready with me tik tok for funsies that you’ll likely never post. William is laying down on the bed, watching with the cutest little smile on his face. That same smile instantly drops when you do as well, accidentally slipping on something that was left out on the floor. “Ow!” you yelp when you scrape your knees on the carpet. “Oh no!” he exclaims, jumping up and coming to your aid. “You okay, love? You hurt?” You just shake your head and flash him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay! Just scared me a little is all.” He nods, letting you go back to doing your thing. 

Matt Rempe: You’re sitting on a stool at your kitchen island, fully zoned out while chilling with Matt. But, you’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you lean a little bit too far and topple over. All you hear is a gasp from Matt, before the loud thud. He rushes around the island, picking you right up. “Sweetheart, are you alright?! Oh my…gosh,” he asks, his face showing every ounce of worry that he’s feeling. “I’m okay. I hit my head. It kinda hurt,” you tell him. He can’t help but laugh, pulling you into a hug, cradling you close to him like a fragile doll. “Uhhh… yeah! I bet! I heard it!” 

Dylan Strome: You hear Dylan laughing as you play with your dogs. He’s recording as you run around, back, forth, up, and down the backyard. Unfortunately, he is silenced when your dog breaks your ankles, causing you to slip. You just let out a surprised shock and look up to see him making his way to where you’re lying. “You all good?” he asks, standing over you with his brows raised. You can only laugh at yourself at this point. “I don’t know about good, Dyl. But, I think I’ll survive.” He laughs and gives you a hand. “You think?!” 

Ryan Leonard: You and Ryan are giggling away as the two of you have pillows in hand, taking hits at each other. “Ry, that was weak!” you chirp him. “Okay then. Just wait,” he responds, drawing his pillow back and bam—you’re falling straight off the bed. “Oh! Babe, no!” he freaks out, peering over the edge to see you rubbing your head. He reaches down and strokes your cheek, feeling incredibly bad. “I’m so sorry, y/n. For real. I didn’t mean to hit you that hard! Are you alright?” The poor boy looks worried sick. “I’m  alright. No worries. I know it was accident,” you reassure, getting back up and onto the bed, smirking a little. “But… now it’s my turn to hit you!” 

Clayton Keller: You and Clay are at a team cookout. There’s children running around and people talking—everyone is just having a great time. You’re in the middle of telling Clayton a funny story when you feel a force push against you, knocking you right over.  You look up to see him with his hands on a kid, steadying the little guy so he doesn’t fall as well. “Ohhh! Hey, careful buddy! Gotta watch out for people, kay?” he tells the boy, gently. He then turns to you. “You good? Not hurt or anything?” You shake your head no as he pulls you back up using both of your hands, keeping one interlocked once he knows you’re okay. “Those kids are crazy, aren’t they?” He remarks while attentively rubbing your back, probably trying to draw attention from the actual fall itself so you don’t feel too awkward. 

Jake Oettinger: You and Jake are on an arcade date at Dave & Busters, and you’re absolutely sucking down the drinks as they’re your all-time favorite. After you and Jake have eaten you get up from the booth to go play the games, but instead… slip right out of it and onto your stomach. “Oh! Babe!” He wastes no time grabbing your hands and pulling you to your feet. “Are you okay, honey?! That was bad!” You laugh nervously, completely embarrassed. “Yeah, I-I’m just fine.” You don’t even want to look around to see if anybody saw. Why torture yourself like that? And of course, he catches on. “Babe, maybe let’s just… start with the games far away and work our way back, yeah?” he suggests, already ushering you away from the table. 

Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen: You and your boyfriend Upi are taking a walk through your local park. There’s all kinds of things happening. That’s his favorite part—how action packed it is. The two of you are busy people watching, a group of kids trying to get a ball out of a tree, more specifically. So, that means that neither of you see the stray dog getting closer and closer. It only hits you how close it is when… it really hits you. You’re falling back onto your bottom after the friendly guy jumps on you to say hi. “Uh oh! Um… hi puppy!” Ukko says as he leans down to help you back up. “Be gentle,” he instructs the dog as it wags its tail, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You okay, darling?” he asks you, sympathetically. You just nod your head and begin to pet the pup. “Don’t worry, I’m fine! What about the dog? Can we keep him?!”

Um… heyyy! It is painfully clear that I have not been the most post-y as of lately, and I’m seriously so sorry about that. Life has been crazy with all of my health stuff, plus my motivation and confidence is at an all time low right now. I’ve been trying my best to get it back and this all came to me in a dream (my friends). This is for funsies so pls don’t take too seriously. What better way to come back than with a little whimsy? Also, I know there’s like 80 ppl in this. If you feel robbed because you read for a certain player and it’s only a chunk of text, literally just send me a req of that player and I’ll write something for you, it’s not a big deal. Lastly, if you think the theme to this is atrocious… I will most likely be changing it at some point anyways so PLEASE just bare with me for now 😭 Hope y’all enjoyed!

tags: @nic0-hischier @dancerbailey3 @sporadicpizzainternet @cheesecakeinahole @beenucks @azure-dawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @puckfics @editzcp @r0wdymaize86 @ccomandercody @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle @ruinix @greensnakegobblep @whitegirlsworld @mainly-miracle @star2fishmeg @wackomcgee

join the taglist here! :)

[hockeyfantasies]

where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me

Summary | Although you and Quinn aren't together anymore, that doesn't mean you two miss each other.

Warnings | none

Author's Note | This can be read as a part 2 from this imagine.

Being a famous actress has made you well known throughout the world. When you dated Quinn Hughes for two years, you were well known in the hockey world. However, due to complicated schedules, you two decided to take a break. That was until you were asked to give the James Norris Memorial Trophy at the NHL Awards in Vegas.

“Are you nervous to see Quinn again?” Your best friend asked you.

“A little.”

“Have you talked to him since you were asked to present?” She asked you.

“Quinn actually reached out to me first.”

“Oooh! What did he say?” Your best friend asked.

“He asked to meet me a day before the show.”

“Then you better look hot if you’re gonna see him again.”

“I know! I’m hoping everything goes well.”

You landed in Vegas a day before the show so you can practice what you were going to say and to see Quinn. Luckily for the both of you, you two were at the same hotel. You had texted Quinn your room number so he could visit you.

There was a knock on your door making you walk over to open it. You smiled softly as Quinn stood in front of you.

"Hey," Quinn smiled softly at you.

"Hi."

"Do you want to get some food and talk?" Quinn asked.

"I'd like that," you say. "Just let me grab my purse."

The restaurant downstairs wasn't too crowded so you two were able to get a booth and talk alone.

"How have you been?" Quinn asked.

"I've been good. I finished filming Outer Banks and my new movie," you tell him.

"That's good."

"How are you? I've seen some games when I have time but other than that, how are you?" You asked him.

"I'm doing good as well."

"Are you nervous for tomorrow?" You asked.

"A little."

"You'll be fine," you smile at him.

"I want to apologize for what happened."

"Quinn. We both agreed to take a break," you tell him.

"I know. But I should've fought for us. I didn't want us to break up," Quinn said.

"I think it was for the best. We were busy and I'm not mad at you. I still love you."

"I still love you too,” Quinn says. “Should we talk about getting back together?”

“Why don’t we wait until after you get your award.”

“What makes you think that I’m gonna win?”

“I have a very strong feeling.”

To no surprise, the media found out about your little outing was was spreading the rumor that you and Quinn could potentially get back together. However, it was quickly shut down by your team to avoid any controversy if Quinn were to win after you presented the award.

The day of the award ceremony, you took a couple of pictures on the carpet before meeting with Quinn.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey.”

“You look nice,” you complimented.

“You look better than me,” Quinn complimented back.

“Ms. L/n. You’re needed backstage,” one of the show runners tells you.

“I have to go. But I’ll be secretly rooting for you,” you tell him with a smile.

“Thanks.”

Quinn watched with his brothers and parents from the seats as the show went on. Then came you to present the James Norris Award.

Quinn smiled happily as he watched you on stage. You introduced Lindsey Null who donated her kidney to Aaron Portzline, a sports writer. You stepped to the side for her to let her speak. Then it was time to introduce the nominees for the James Norris trophy.

You watched the nominee video, feeling giddy the moment you saw Quinn's introduction. You took the envelope with the winner's name while Lindsey took the trophy.

“The James Norris goes to...” you say before opening the envelope to read the name. Your eyes lit up in surprise as you saw the winner. “Quinn Hughes!”

You watched as Quinn hugged his family and friends before coming up on stage to you. Instead of shaking your hand, he pulls you into a hug before giving you a quick kiss.

“Meet me afterwards?” He asked quickly.

“Yeah,” you smile and nod. He shook Lindsey's hand before coming to the microphone to give his speech.

“I wish I got a kiss too,” Lindsey joked. You giggled before hiding your blushing face.

After Quinn's speech, he took a step away from the microphone to look at you. You smiled at him as he waited for you as you walked towards him to head backstage. He held his hand out for you which you gladly took.

"I'm so proud of you," you tell him.

"Thank you. I'm really glad you're here with me for this," Quinn tells you.

"Me too. You go do what you need to do and I will be waiting for you at the after party," you tell him, kissing his cheek.

Twitter and media outlets had blown up about you two when they saw Quinn kiss you live at the show.

Twitter user: omg! are they back together again?!

l/nstanforever: love is real again!!!!!

hockeyluver: Quinn Hughes running up to kiss Y/N L/N are goals!!!

hockeyswiftie: WHERE'S THE TROPHY, HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME IS LITERALLY Y/N AND QUINN HUGHES RN

During Quinn’s interviews, he was hit with the question that everyone was asking.

“Are you and actress Y/n L/n back together based on the kiss you gave her on stage?” The interviewer asked. Quinn let out a chuckle.

“I’m not gonna say anything about that just yet,” Quinn said, avoiding the question so he could have a chance to talk to you about what you both were.

“Do you still have feelings for her?”

“Of course I do. She’s an amazing person. But like I said, I don’t want to say anything about that just yet.”

At the after party, you caught up with Jack and Luke before Quinn pulled you away to talk privately.

“So I’m guessing you want to get back together now?” You joked to Quinn as you sat on a couch.

“I want us to be. I missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. Now that I’ve finished with filming, I can be with you more and hopefully I can film more in Vancouver,” you tell Quinn.

“I’d like that.”

“So, you wanna party since you won?” You asked, standing up.

"Yeah. Do you want to go on a date with me once we leave Vegas?" Quinn asked you.

"I'd like that. But for now, let's celebrate your win," you smiled as you pulled him back to the party.

[dixons-sunshine]

I need a whole week, maybe even a month, to recover from this. Holy fucking shit.

"Yeah? That so? The hell do y'all know 'bout it?" Daryl shot back, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And what's he doin' with it after, huh? Sellin' it to the damn government? Oh wait, that shit don't exist no more, does it?"

Daryl is so sassy lmao. I love him with my whole heart. Early seasons Daryl truly is iconic.

He stepped closer, his height in comparison to yours making your pulse quicken like it always did. "Careful," he grumbled with a quiet growl. "Might decide to shut ya up."

Is that a promise? I hope it is. Please do.

"Yeah... Knew it. Knew ya'd be like this. Thought I'd give ya what ya been beggin' for," he'd whispered as his hand still cupped your jaw. "Go on. Show me how bad ya want it."

SIR?! GODDAMN.

But you didn't back down. "What are you gonna do, Shane? Hurt me because you're just some sad and whiny shit that can't get his dick wet anymore? Leave me behind and get me killed because you fucked up that affair of yours? Yeah, that's right, I know. And I don't care. In fact, I couldn't even care less about you and your pathetic problems. But sure, go ahead. See what happens."

Love the reader digging in to Shane like that. Fucking icon 👏

Then he had kissed you.

HELL TO THE YEAH!

"Least when she screams, it ain't 'cause she's realizin' she picked the wrong brother."

Oooohh. Apply ice to the affected area, because Shane just got burnt.

He smirked in response, tilting his head just enough to make your thighs clench. "Ain't sayin' I will. Ain't sayin' I won't."

Mm 👀 I think you will.

He shoved his shoulders under your thighs, grabbed your ass, and pulled you back with him and you down onto his face. "Ya heard me. Ride it. Fuckin' use me."

YES SIR. Consider it done 🥵

"Now actin' like ya were starvin' for it, huh?" He growled as his fingers stayed inside your throat, fucking your mouth with them. "Ain't the damn shower ya wanted. Nah. Coulda just fuckin' asked, ya know."

"Got ya down on yer knees suckin' me off in a fuckin' shower like it's the only thing ya ever wanted."

I MEAN 👀 What if it is the only thing I ever wanted?

"Won't say 'no' to ya, woman. 'S the damn problem," Daryl answered, both his hands finding your hips now, holding you steady while you rolled them over his pants again. Then his mouth was on yours once more—brutal, with no warning, and slow, like he was trying to crawl inside you with just his tongue. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you, pulling your wet hair to tilt your head back.

Me because Daryl can’t say no to me 🤭 (I am delusional, I know.)

But calm on Daryl never exactly meant safe.

Calm on Daryl, especially in moments like with Shane, can be terrifying. Do I love it, though? Absolutely.

"Ya ask what she tastes like?" Daryl hissed, voice low. "Tastes like me. Ya want some? Ya can suck it off my fuckin' cock if ya beg hard 'nough."

Fucking GET HIM, DARYL. I love the sass and the confidence, goddamn. It’s top tier.

This was so insanely hot and well written and I just? The talent? The beauty of this fic? It’s amazing! I’m honoured to be able to read anything you put out because it’s absolutely amazing and it hits all the right spots each time. I’m in awe of you. You are one of the absolute best writers and I adore you so much 💜

𝐀 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐁𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐦 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Daryl Dixon's hands were made to kill—rough, calloused, and strong. But at the CDC, with electricity, a bottle of alcohol, and your lips wrapped around his fingers, he learns what it feels like to crave his woman's touch more than survival. Hot water. Red wine. Your mouth. And the man who owns it.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ S1 Feral Daryl Dixon ⋮ Wine Play ⋮ Pussy Worship ⋮ Primal Kink ⋮ Cunnilingus ⋮ Oral Fixation ⋮ Finger Sucking ⋮ Dry Humping ⋮ Shower BJ ⋮ Teasing ⋮ Possessive Behavior ⋮ Marking ⋮ Spanking ⋮ Spit Play ⋮ Protective Violence ⋮ Language ⋮ Shane Walsh Being An Asshole

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 10.325 ⋮ 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S01E06 ⋮ 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Fem!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋮ 𝑨𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑶𝒇 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑶𝒘𝒏

The CDC was so clean it almost made you feel dizzy. After days of mostly smelling decay, the sudden lack of it felt wrong—like you'd walked into another world. Even though the world you once knew hadn't ended that long ago, it felt different nonetheless.

After the doors sealed shut behind you and once the whole group was inside the building, relief went through everyone, though no one dared to say it outright. It was the kind of relief you couldn't trust anymore, not in a new world like this.

Having introduced himself by cocking a gun at first, with the words, "Anybody infected?" Dr. Edwin Jenner stood before you, explaining the rules—blood tests first with no exceptions. "You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission," he'd told you before he asked why you were here and what you wanted, to which Rick had replied that you all just wished for a chance. Just one chance to survive for at least a little time longer.

As soon as you were all underground and gave samples of your blood away, you kept your expression neutral as Dr. Jenner drew a vial of it, but Daryl, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his obvious annoyance.

"Can't say I blame him," you said quietly to yourself, watching as Jenner approached him with the syringe in his hand.

"Ain't no one stickin' me with nothin'," Daryl growled at him, but Rick stepped in quickly.

"We're all doing it, Daryl. He's just making sure none of us are infected, alright?"

"Yeah? That so? The hell do y'all know 'bout it?" Daryl shot back, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "And what's he doin' with it after, huh? Sellin' it to the damn government? Oh wait, that shit don't exist no more, does it?"

You couldn't help but laugh a little out loud, which made Daryl glare at you, but you simply shrugged in return, biting back a grin. "Oh, come on, Daryl. Afraid of a little prick now?"

That did it. He actually let Jenner take his blood, and when it was done, the man gestured further down one of the hallways. Dinner. Finally, you were about to eat food, something you hadn't had in days.

And as you followed the group, you couldn't deny the excitement of the luxuries around you, luxuries you all still had not that long ago. Running water, electricity, and not having to look back over your shoulder all the time in case a walker was about to attack. It was surreal as you kept looking around, and the thought of some normalcy, even as small as this, seemed too good to be true.

Daryl was still standing near a wall as Dr. Jenner and the rest of the group put the drinks and food on the table in the dining area, his eyes looking around like he was the only one preparing himself for a fight.

You approached him, leaning against the wall with a smirk. "Relax, Daryl. No walkers here."

"Place don't feel right," he grunted in response, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, well, neither does eating squirrels, but look where we are now."

As soon as his eyes looked over at you, they seemed unreadable. "Ya gonna run yer damn mouth now, or what?"

"Depends. You gonna keep pouting and standing far away from everyone else like some crying kid?"

He stepped closer, his height in comparison to yours making your pulse quicken like it always did. "Careful," he grumbled with a quiet growl. "Might decide to shut ya up."

But before you could think of an answer, Daryl backed off, leaving you to follow him in silence.

The tone of his voice seemed so casual, but the way he said it sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but remember how it all had started in the first place before you even became a couple.

You remembered how you hadn't thought much of it at first—his hands. They were rough, dirty, and usually smeared with blood or grime. But somewhere along the way, those hands became an unholy symbol.

Maybe it was the first time you'd really noticed them, back near the quarry, when you twisted your ankle while trying to escape several walkers surrounding you. Daryl had come out of nowhere, crossbow in hand and that feral look in his eyes that made your heart race for reasons you didn't want to admit back then. The bolts flew fast, and the walkers were down before you even had a chance to scream for help.

Then he was there, pulling you up with those hands—big, calloused, and so strong they felt like they could break you in half.

"Dumbass," he'd said as he carried you back to the camp, but the way he held you so carefully told a different story.

From then on, his hands became something you couldn't stop noticing. The way his fingers gripped his crossbow, the way he carved up whatever animal he'd managed to hunt, even the way he wiped the sweat from his face after a long day of hunting. Every move of his hands seemed primal in a way, and it wasn't long before your imagination had started wandering to places it shouldn't.

The first time it happened—really happened—was during one of those rare moments you had alone together. While scavenging, you'd been holed up in a gas station just outside of Atlanta for the night, and Daryl had found you sitting on the floor, trying to reload your gun. He'd grunted something about you being useless, then sat down beside you and taken over.

It should have been boring, just another one of those simple gestures. But then his fingers touched yours as he wanted to take the gun from your hands, and without thinking, you'd brought them to your lips.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" He'd asked, both with shock and curiosity.

You hadn't been able to answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you'd let your lips part, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt and dirt on his skin. The noise he'd made, just a quiet and low growl, had sent a shiver through your body.

"Shit," he'd growled, pulling his hand away, then looking slightly disgusted. But the way his eyes stared at you, the way his breathing had slowed—he liked it. And when you'd grabbed his wrist and brought his fingers back to your mouth, he hadn't stopped you.

That was the night everything changed between you. What started as teasing and stolen moments in the dark quickly turned into something more over time.

The image of his hands had stayed with you afterward, creeping into your mind at the worst possible times. You couldn't explain it, couldn't really shake it, and you couldn't stop wondering what it would feel like if he touched you like that—not like a man helping someone up, but with need, with lust.

The worst part? He'd caught you looking one too many times, and Daryl certainly wasn't the kind of man to let something like that slide.

An actual time he'd tested you again was weeks later, after the gas station incident. You were filthy, exhausted, and too worn out to care about much of anything—until you'd felt the touch of Daryl's fingers under your chin.

"Ya been eye-fuckin' me all damn day," he'd said. "Think I didn't notice?"

You'd opened your mouth to deny it, but the words caught in your throat as his thumb slid across your bottom lip. You didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do, because all you could focus on was the way his thumb had pressed against your lip and the roughness of his skin that was making you shiver.

"Open up."

Those words made you obey without thinking, your lips opening up just enough for him to slip his thumb into your mouth. The taste of dirt was immediate, and you should've been disgusted, but all you could think about was how completely he'd owned you at that moment.

"Yeah... Knew it. Knew ya'd be like this. Thought I'd give ya what ya been beggin' for," he'd whispered as his hand still cupped your jaw. "Go on. Show me how bad ya want it."

Pulling out his thumb, he'd pressed two other fingers against your lips, his other hand now sliding down your waist to grip your hip. Your body had reacted before your mind could catch up, your mouth opening again to take him in, your tongue moving around his fingers in an instant.

"Mhm… Got ya all wound up now, don't I? Ain't even touchin' ya for real, and yer already greedy as shit," he'd said, his hips grinding against you. "Thought 'bout makin' ya gag on 'em... see how much ya can take…"

And it didn't stop from there. He used it further against you, shamelessly even, teasing you in moments when no one else was around. Those fingers, those strong hands—they became your undoing. Whether he was teasing you in the middle of the camp or in the woods, Daryl knew exactly how to mess with your head.

Sure, he was rough around the edges, a man who didn't trust easily and didn't know how to show affection in the ways most people would. But with you, he didn't have to. The looks and signs you gave each other were enough—his hands, your lips, and the way you both seemed like two different pieces that would surprisingly fit the same puzzle.

The group had caught on eventually, of course. But only due to a fight. A stupid fight that made sure everyone in the camp knew exactly what was going on between you and Daryl. Even though you weren't exactly hiding what you had, not with the way he would turn overly protective, sometimes even aggressive, whenever someone so much as looked at you wrong.

Back then, it had to be a supply run again. Of course, it had to be. Together with Shane and Glenn, you were searching for medicine and canned supplies while the rest of the group had stayed at the quarry. It should've been simple—quick in, quick out—but Shane's tendency to live out his frustration had been messing with your nerves, and you had just about enough of his bullshit when he'd decided to start running his mouth about Daryl.

"Dixon's a loose cannon," Shane had said, tossing a can of food into his bag. "Don't know why we keep that redneck asshole around. Probably gonna get us all killed."

You didn't always agree with Daryl—hell, sometimes he pissed you off more than anyone—but Shane didn't get to talk about him like that.

"He's done more for this group than you ever have so far," you shot back at Shane, making him turn around and glare at you.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," you'd answered, stepping closer. "Daryl's kept this group alive, got us food when we needed it, even after Merle was gone. What the hell have you done, huh? Other than bitching around and crying about everything at once?"

"Careful," Shane had growled back at you. "Accidents can happen all the time, you know..."

But you didn't back down. "What are you gonna do, Shane? Hurt me because you're just some sad and whiny shit that can't get his dick wet anymore? Leave me behind and get me killed because you fucked up that affair of yours? Yeah, that's right, I know. And I don't care. In fact, I couldn't even care less about you and your pathetic problems. But sure, go ahead. See what happens."

But Shane didn't get the chance to act on the thoughts that you'd put into his mind. By the time you had made it back to the quarry, Daryl already knew something had gone down. He could see it in the way your jaw clenched as you walked toward the fire, trying to act like nothing was wrong, but Shane wasn't done.

"Why don't you tell everyone else what you were saying, huh?" Shane yelled after you, loud enough to get everyone's attention. "Go ahead. You got such a damn mouth out there; let's hear it now."

You froze mid-step, eyes narrowing as you turned. "Oh, you mean the part where I said Daryl's done more for this group than your sorry ass ever has? Yeah. I said it. I'll say it again, too."

Shane's laugh was bitter. "You know what I think? I think you two deserve each other. A bitch and a backwoods freak. Makes sense."

Those words weren't even fully said yet when Daryl was on him.

It was fast—him coming at Shane with his fists. Rick shouted something, Glenn went to help, but nobody moved fast enough. Daryl had Shane by the collar, dragging him down, fists hitting him again and again.

"Ya call her that again," Daryl growled. "I'll break yer fuckin' jaw so hard ya gonna choke on yer teeth."

"What the hell's your damn problem, Dixon?!"

"You," Daryl had spat, his chest heaving as he closed the distance between them. "Got a problem with me too, ya say it to my damn face! Don't run yer goddamn mouth 'bout us behind my back!"

He quickly pushed Shane away, and then his eyes went to you. "You," he snapped, walking toward you. "With me. Now."

"What?"

But he didn't answer anymore. Daryl grabbed your wrist hard, pulling you away from the group, dragging you toward the treeline like he owned you—and maybe he already did.

"Daryl—what the hell?" You hissed, stumbling behind him.

As soon as you were out of view, his hands pinned you back against a tree, leaving them next to either side of your head, caging you in. "Ya just gotta go pickin' a fight with that asshole, don't ya?"

"I was defending you, Daryl!"

"And I don't need ya damn defendin'!"

"Maybe I do! Maybe I'm tired of letting assholes like him talk to me like I'm some whore just because I'm not scared to want you!"

That did it.

In one rough move, he grabbed your chin, tilting your face up. "Ya wanna prove somethin' to me, woman? That right? Ya got somethin' else to say to me, too?"

"Yeah," you'd snapped back at him with a snarl. "I'm sick of you acting like you don't give a shit when it's obvious that you do!"

"Ya don't know what the hell yer talkin' 'bout."

"Oh? Don't I?" You'd shot back, your voice shaking with anger. "Just admit it, Daryl! Just do it! Admit something for once in your damn life!"

For a moment, he'd said nothing, just staring at you.

Then he had kissed you.

It wasn't soft or gentle. It was rough and desperate, like he himself was trying to prove a point. His hands had slid up your sides when he finally pulled back, and his forehead was pressing against yours.

"Stand up for me like that again, woman, I swear… I'll have ya on yer damn hands and knees and show ya what happens."

And show you he did. Right there against the tree, with the camp just out of sight and everyone else wondering what the hell had happened. By the time the two of you had returned, sweaty and disheveled, it was clear to everyone that something had changed.

"Guess we know where they stand now," Dale had sighed, shaking his head, his expression half amused.

Shane had been the second to say something, leaning against the hood of the RV with a shit-eating grin and holding a rag against his bloody lip. "Yeah… Never would've thought Dixon was the type to settle down with such a loud-ass slut. Sounded more like she was screaming for help out there, not begging to get railed," he'd said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Least when she screams, it ain't 'cause she's realizin' she picked the wrong brother."

That made Shane shut up. Glenn choked on his water. Rick furrowed his brow, confused—but Lori? Lori froze.

After that, the others were less loud about you both. T-Dog seemed more confused than anything, like he was trying to figure out what you even saw in Daryl, while Andrea gave you those knowing looks that made your face heat up and your cheeks burn red.

Back at the table in the dining area of the CDC, the food was already passed around as you pulled your focus away from the memories, along with an opened bottle of wine. The laughter and conversations felt uncomfortable for you at first, but then, slowly, you turned more relaxed as the rest of the group let their guard down as well.

You sat next to Daryl, who had barely touched his plate at first. Instead, you drank the alcohol and looked around with a smile that was barely there before he started to joke around, too.

"Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get!"

The group laughed at his words, and you caught the way Daryl had relaxed. Liquid courage, maybe. Or just the comfort of not being the outsider for once.

"I thought you weren't a fan of the CDC?" You teased softly so that only he could hear. "Or are you now? Just like that, huh?"

"Shut it," he answered, but there was no real anger behind his words.

As the others continued to talk and laugh, you felt it all of a sudden—a quick touch of his rough fingers against your lips. It was so fast you almost thought you imagined it, but when you glanced at Daryl, you saw the corner of his mouth turn into a smirk again.

That bastard was playing with you.

He soon did it again, under the guise of reaching for his drink. This time, your reaction was instinctive. Your lips parted, your tongue sliding out to kiss and taste the tip of his finger.

You had to bite your lip to keep from reacting further as he then leaned back, closer to you.

"Careful, woman," he whispered. "Ya keep doin' that, and I might forget where we are."

This made you remember the last time he did exactly that—forgetting where you both were since you've been in a relationship.

A run gone wrong, the two of you holed up in a building with a barricaded door and walkers outside. It had started like everything did with Daryl: tension, silence, and then frustration when you'd made some idiotic remark.

But his eyes—God, his eyes—were locked on your mouth like he had wanted to devour you alive.

"Quit staring," you'd whispered, just to piss him off a little.

Big mistake.

In one motion, he had pulled you onto his lap, his hand pressing down over your mouth.

"Shut. Up."

His other hand was shoved inside your pants, fingers sliding over your pussy with zero warning. You moved, but he'd held you down, his lips close to your ear. "Told ya I'd shut ya up. If ya make a noise, I stop."

Biting his palm to muffle your cries, you'd felt how his fingers suddenly curled inside you, rough and thick. You hadn't made a sound—not when he pushed those two fingers deeper inside you, not when his thumb touched your clit just right, and definitely not when your body jerked on his lap as if he'd shocked you.

Outside, the walkers groaned. Inside, Daryl's breath hitched as you came hard on his hand, his growl vibrating against your skin. "Knew ya could be quiet."

Indeed, he was good at shutting you up whenever he wanted you to be silent.

Coming back to your senses again, you stole another glance at Daryl as you drank your own glass of wine in silence. His fingers tapped against the table, restless even now. Those fingers had become your undoing, and he knew it all too well.

It was almost cruel, the way he had brushed them near your lips only moments before, knowing exactly how your body would react. You tried to ignore him, tried to focus on the laughter and conversation around you, but his little smirk was still there.

"You two okay over there?" Glenn's voice made your heart jump as you quickly looked away.

"Fine," Daryl grunted in response, his tone still as gruff as ever, making Glenn shrug before he turned back to his conversation with the rest of the group, leaving you and Daryl to yourselves.

"Keep it up," Daryl then grumbled under his breath at you, seemingly out of nowhere, and his voice was low enough that only you could hear. "See what happens when we're alone."

You barely had time to process that threat as Dr. Jenner stood up, with the rest of the group suddenly following him. The group's laughter had stopped as he had explained the CDC's suicides, the desperation, and how everyone had lost hope. But you weren't listening. Not really.

Your skin still burned where Daryl's fingers had brushed your lips. Your pulse still hammered in your ears, having drowned out Jenner's words. All you could focus on were the memories of how it had all started with Daryl.

But what exactly would happen when you were alone and out of sight again?

The thought consumed you so completely that you barely noticed when Jenner finally started to walk down a hallway, gesturing for you all to follow.

"Most of the facility is powered down, including housing," he said, leading you all down a hallway. "You'll have to make do here. The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There's a rec room down the hall—just don't plug in the video games. Or anything that draws power. The same applies... If you shower, go easy on the hot water."

"Hot water?" Glenn asked in disbelief, and T-Dog grinned in return.

"That's what the man said!"

As quick as those words about hot water had left Jenner's mouth, leaving everyone in shock and relief, the group was already splitting off to claim spaces. But you? The second he was done talking, you slipped away—further down the hallway, past the rec room next, toward a room to claim and the promise of a hot shower.

But what you didn't notice? Daryl stayed behind, his eyes locked on you like a predator tracking down prey.

You didn't look back at him.

Because you felt it—the moment he followed.

The second you slipped away, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Daryl's presence was unmistakable, even without him making a sound. He was just like that—always close enough to be in your space, but never too obvious.

And he had no intention of letting you get away so easily.

Another full bottle of wine was in his hand as he moved silently behind you, and you paused, hand resting on a door, just as you reached one of the free rooms. You were so close to washing away everything—the grime, the dirt, everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

But then, without warning, you felt one hand on your wrist, spinning you around with enough force to make your breath catch in your throat. His face was inches from yours, and you could see the same look he always got when he was ready to claim something, and you knew it wasn't going to be easy to escape this time.

Daryl's lips were on yours before you could even think to answer, rough and hard, forcing a groan out of you as he backed you into the wall of the hallway. You didn't have time to resist, not that you really wanted to. His fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head back as his tongue demanded yours.

It was a kiss that left no room for doubt before his hand was moving down your neck and over your tits next. It was reckless, almost violent, but that was Daryl. Always untamed.

You let out a breathy laugh, not that it mattered to him.

"Don't need no damn shower," he said between kisses. "Waste o' time." His hand soon slid down to your waist, fingers digging into your flesh with a roughness that only seemed to make you want him more.

You barely heard the words—too caught up in the sensation of his touch, his mouth, and his body pressing against you. It wasn't just the kiss, not just the way his touch felt—it was everything. The way Daryl made you lose control, the way he could bring you to the edge without ever needing to say anything much.

Yes, he was always like that. Rough. Raw. No apologies. And it drove you wild. You didn't know if it was the isolation of the world now or just Daryl's overwhelming presence, but you'd grown accustomed to that hunger. His hunger. And to the way it felt when he took what he wanted, no questions asked.

"Not here," you managed to gasp quietly between kisses, though you weren't even sure what you were suggesting. "We're still in the hallway, Daryl…"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. Ain't got the patience for this," he growled in return, biting your lower lip and grabbing the door handle next to you. "Rather taste ya like this—dirty, mine."

Not giving you the time to answer, he shoved the door open behind you, pushing you inside, and kicking it shut again with his boot, before Daryl pushed you back against it, the wine bottle in his other hand pressed to your throat like a warning.

"Ain't no runnin' away now. Ya gonna drink first."

You nodded before he tipped the bottle to your lips, the red wine running down your chin, before he licked it off with a groan.

"Ain't 'bout gettin' clean," he growled against your jaw, his tongue licking along your skin. "Don't needa be clean for me."

"Daryl, please… Come on, just let me take that shower!" You managed to laugh, trying to hold your ground, but your voice was quieter than you wanted it to be.

"Ain't no damn shower worth this," Daryl answered, his free hand grabbing your jaw roughly, forcing your gaze upward. His thumb touched your bottom lip, and that simple touch made your heart beat faster. "Ya think ya can just go?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

But Daryl's grip on your jaw loosened anyway as he stepped back like the war inside him had pulled him in two directions—fuck you stupid right here or let you go just long enough to drive him even crazier.

He stared at you for a moment, then dropped the wine bottle to the floor next to the couch in the room.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Go wash off, woman."

Opening the door to the shower for you, he was then standing to the side but still crowding your space, his eyes staring at your body like he was imagining you naked already.

"But ya leave that door open, y'hear?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, heart racing. "So you are gonna follow me?"

He smirked in response, tilting his head just enough to make your thighs clench. "Ain't sayin' I will. Ain't sayin' I won't."

You gave him a playful smile—half daring, half pleading.

"Daryl," you whispered, your voice breathy as your hands moved to his chest to push him away from you. "You still want me?"

"Ain't that obvious?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you turned around slowly, letting your hips move and your ass shake as you reached for your shirt. One glance back over your shoulder told you everything—he was sitting on the couch by now, legs spread wide, chest rising with every shaky breath.

Your fingers slid under the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head in one smooth motion, and the air hit your bare skin as soon as you got rid of your bra, your nipples hardening instantly.

Your pants slid down next, you shaking your ass on purpose as you stepped out of them until you were standing there fully naked, hair messy, lips swollen. And God, the way he looked at you like he was a few seconds away from fucking you right then and there…

He was sitting there, one hand grabbing the couch like restraint was the only thing keeping him from standing up again.

"Think I forgot something," you then whispered before you stepped back toward him, straddling his lap without hesitation. Your naked skin pressed to his pants as you started to grind against him slowly—agonizingly so.

Daryl's breath hitched, his hands shooting to your waist, thumbs digging into your hips as he hissed, "Ya teasin' me now?"

You didn't answer. Not with words.

Instead, you leaned down, guiding his face to your chest, and when his mouth closed around one nipple, his teeth scraped along it just enough to make you gasp. Both his tongue and lips were needy, licking and sucking as if wanting to mark bruises onto your tits like he was starved—like he didn't care about anything else but tasting you.

"Fuck, Daryl," you moaned, back arching, nails scratching down to his biceps, trying to hold on.

Then, when you knew he was ready—ready for more—you pulled back, grabbed the alcohol bottle that was still standing next to the couch, and brought it to your lips.

Red wine ran down your chin and onto your tits before you let some of it drip from your mouth into his, watching his eyes close as he tasted it and you all at once.

Daryl's deep groan hit you like a shock.

The second your wet lips let the wine drip into his mouth, you felt him twitch beneath you—his cock hardening under your pussy like it had a mind of its own. His pants pressed against your folds, the friction making your breath stutter as you ground down harder, slower.

And he felt it. God, he felt it.

His hips bucked up more, unable to stop, his cock straining so hard you rolled your hips again, dragging your soaked pussy along that thick, hard outline—once, twice, again, and again—until he was hissing loudly.

You smirked through your quick pants, teasing your clit against his bulge again with another slow grind. "Are you going to beg for it, Dixon?"

"Beg?" He smirked in response. "Ain't beggin'. Just takin'."

Daryl then snapped—grabbing a handful of your ass and lifting his hips to shove you down harder on his lap, so your pussy was pushed right along his cock again. You cried out, his pants now soaked through, his cock throbbing beneath you, twitching as hard as ever.

And he just watched you—breathing like crazy, his chest rising and falling fast as he stared at you with that wild look in his eyes, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more.

You let out another cry—half-laugh, half-gasp—as he flipped you onto your back in one rough move, his face already moving down your body. He dragged his stubbled jaw across your belly, biting your skin just hard enough to leave little stings of pain and pleasure behind. His hands pushed your thighs open, spreading you wide without an ounce of hesitation.

"Wine," he continued, and you didn't have time to ask before he grabbed the bottle, pouring a slow stream down between your tits, then down your stomach, until he was letting it drip between your thighs.

"Daryl—" You choked out, body jerking, but he didn't answer.

Not letting you argue, his mouth was on you in an instant.

He licked the wine straight off your skin, groaning low in his throat as he tasted every drop. His tongue was hot and rough, sliding over the curves of your body, to your inner thighs—closer—until he was right there.

You weren't ready. You thought you were, but the second his tongue met your clit, you arched off the couch like he'd shocked you.

"Jesus—fuck!"

Daryl growled against you, holding you down as your hips bucked helplessly. "Thought ya wanted a shower?"

His tongue moved in a punishing rhythm—quick licks that made you try to squirm away, but his strong hands were like iron fists. He shifted lower, burying his face deep, letting his tongue slide through your folds and suck hard on your clit until your back arched and your moan broke in your throat.

"Daryl, fuck, Daryl—"

That just spurred him on. His nose pressed against you, tongue working deep. He poured a little more wine, this time straight down onto your pussy, and the cold mixed with the heat of his mouth made you cry out, legs trembling.

Then he pulled back just enough to say, "Ride it."

He shoved his shoulders under your thighs, grabbed your ass, and pulled you back with him and you down onto his face. "Ya heard me. Ride it. Fuckin' use me."

You gasped—whimpered—but obeyed, rolling your hips slowly at first, grinding down onto his tongue as he groaned into you like he couldn't get enough. It was messy and wild, with wine running down your thighs and his chin, his stubble soaked with it and your wetness before he slapped your ass.

"Harder."

You obeyed.

Fingers tangling in his hair and your moans coming out uncontrolled, you rode his face like a savage. His tongue never let up—licking and sucking you with his mouth until your whole body shook.

Your back arched as he spit on your clit, then slurped it up like he'd been dying of thirst, and he didn't give a single shit. His face was soaked by now, and when you tried to move? Tried to shift away, even just an inch?

SMACK!

He slapped your ass so hard you wanted to cry out loud.

Daryl's hands weren't just holding your ass now—they were playing. One hand cupped a cheek tight, spreading you wide open while his thumb traced along between them, dangerously close, just to tease.

"Damn fuckin' view," he groaned into your cunt, spit dribbling down his chin. "Gonna fuckin' die right here, suffocated in this damn pussy."

Then—SMACK—his palm hit your other cheek, hard enough to make you yelp. "Grind harder. Rub that needy fuckin' clit all over my mouth."

You obeyed, moaning some more, your pussy soaking his tongue. His nose rubbed your clit with each thrust while his tongue slid down, licking deeper, dirtier. Then you felt it—his thumb pressing lower.

"Bet ya ain’t been touched here, huh?" He growled, his voice muffled but clear enough. "Bet not. But still beggin’ like ya want it here like the rest o' ya."

You choked on a gasp, grinding harder on his face as he groaned. "Keep ridin' like that, woman," he snarled against your skin. "Keep that damn pussy on my fuckin' face."

He kept you right where he wanted—his hands wrapped around your ass, spreading your cheeks wide, squeezing and pawing. He seemed obsessed—grunting and groaning, licking everywhere, switching between tongue-fucking you and just dragging the flat of it up and down your slit all shamelessly.

"Fucking hell, Daryl—" You whimpered, your body trembling.

But then came the wine again.

You didn't even notice him grabbing the bottle once more—you just felt the sudden chill as he tilted it up and let it pour all over your lower back, your ass, and down to your pussy. The alcohol hit your skin in streams, ran between your cheeks, and right down into his mouth in the front.

"Tastes like mine…" He groaned like you were divine. "C'mon, woman. Gimme all o' that. I know yer close."

Your head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry, your pussy dripping on his face, the mix of wine and your wetness sliding down his chin and onto the couch.

And your orgasm hit hard.

You moaned—loud, raw, shaking on top of him as your body convulsed. "F-Fuck, Daryl—!"

But he held you down, licking and sucking you through it, eyes wild beneath you like he was praying for his own religion to unfold. His mouth stayed on your clit, tongue still relentless even as your body shook, twitching with aftershocks.

And even then, he didn't stop.

He just kept going.

Your hands searched for anything to hold on to—his hair, the side of the couch, the wall—as he brought you to the edge way too fast once more. Your thighs trembled violently, your body collapsing forward onto the couch, but his arms wrapped around your hips and kept your ass and pussy in his face.

"Fuckin' perfect," he growled, licking and sucking you slower now, almost lazy, not wanting to let you fall a second time on purpose. "Can't get 'nough. Never gonna stop wantin' this sweet fuckin' pussy."

You whined, too far gone for words.

There was drool on your chin.

Tears on your cheeks.

Wine everywhere.

Finally, finally, he groaned into your pussy, gave your ass one last squeeze, and let you slide off his mouth.

You collapsed next to him on the couch, catching your breath.

Daryl just wiped his face with the back of his hand, then licked it clean with a smirk. His lips were swollen, his eyes seemed satisfied, and his stubble was soaked with wine and you.

"Now go take yer fuckin' shower," he casually said after a while. "'Fore I fuck ya face down on one of 'em cots from the storage next."

Soon stumbling toward the shower, you looked like a woman who had barely survived the possessed man that was just between your thighs.

And Daryl?

He sat back on the couch, legs still spread wide, cock hard, and his tongue running over his teeth, watching your ass sway the whole way into the bathroom.

But even as you stumbled, legs barely working, you didn't close the door, just like he had told you. After all, you knew he was watching.

So you slowed your pace at the edge of the bathroom, just enough to give him a show. You paused, leaning one arm against the wall like you needed the support, and glanced back over your shoulder.

He was still there.

Still on that couch with his legs spread wide, that cock of his tenting his pants like it was ready to rip through them, and his chest was rising and falling like he'd been running from a horde of walkers.

So you dragged your hand slowly up the wall, the other down your hip, letting your fingers move through the wine still glistening on your skin.

"Are you really just gonna sit there?" You breathed, your voice wrecked and eyes half-lidded. "Or are you that scared of a little soap?"

"Ain't scared of nothin'," he snapped back at you with a smirk. "Don't mean I gotta like it."

You arched an eyebrow, tilting your head. "Guess that means you're just gonna sit there and pretend not to be scared?"

"The hell I am," he answered as he shifted, one knee now bouncing like a fuse had just been lit.

Then—just to make it worse—you turned around fully, facing him now, flushed and sticky, and ran your fingers down between your thighs, feeling the mess he'd left behind. You brought them to your lips and sucked two fingers clean with a soft, wet pop.

"Still tastes like your dirty, fucking, nasty mouth," you whispered, letting your tongue drag along your fingers again before you smiled. "Disgusting as shit."

That was it.

His boots hit the floor hard as he stood up, his chest heaving.

"Disgusting and nasty, huh?"

Not giving him the satisfaction of an answer, right as you moved inside the bathroom and turned on the hot water of the shower, you heard how he was coming closer, taking his time just long enough to take another look at you.

That hard cock of his, still straining against his pants like it was fighting to break free, was now a problem—one he seemed pissed about. Glancing back over your shoulder, you saw the way his jaw clenched and how his eyes narrowed at you like you'd just dared him to stay uncomfortable for a moment longer.

With a grunt, Daryl stepped into the bathroom fully, the heat from the shower already fogging the mirror next to him. He stepped out of his boots as if they offended him; his pants were hitting the floor next after his hands went straight to his belt, yanking it open as fast as he could.

"Fuckin' shit," he grumbled, almost to himself, before shoving his boxers down. "This what ya wanted, huh? Fancy-ass hot water and soap?"

His cock sprang free, thick and hard, slapping up against his stomach—and God, the groan that tore from his throat when it was finally free made your pussy ache.

His shirt? He ripped that off with one rough pull, letting it drop wherever, and you watched the muscles of his chest and arms flex with every move before he turned to the door, closing it but still keeping an eye on you through the mirror. His scars were there on his back—ugly, beautiful, everything at once—and all his, just like everything else he gave you.

But Daryl caught you looking. Of course, he did.

"The fuck are ya starin' at?" He asked, voice rough, eyes dropping down to your drenched skin.

"You," you breathed quietly, backing up a step under the hot water, beckoning him in with just a tilt of your head. "Always you."

You were expecting another comment, maybe a grunt—but Daryl wasn't saying anything.

"Daryl…" You started softer this time.

He was still only staring until he was moving quickly, pushing you against the cold wall of the shower, the water pouring down on him, and his hand gripping your chin hard enough to tilt your head up and shut you up all at once.

"Don't," he growled. "Ain't gonna talk 'bout that shit."

You opened your mouth—but he kissed you instead.

No warning, no tenderness. Just claiming. Tongue and teeth and water-drenched skin pressed to yours, making you taste the wine and yourself on his lips, making you feel the way his hands trembled as they held you in place.

You didn't even try to argue.

Not when one of his hands grabbed your ass and pushed his cock against you like a warning.

And definitely not when he whispered, "Ain't scared of no damn scars. And you? Ya keep lookin' at me like that, woman, and yer gonna learn just how much I ain't scared of you either."

Still, it didn't take long for him to give in to it all. Into you. His body soon relaxed, the tension going away as he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the water run down over him and feeling the warmth of it on his skin. He wasn't used to this kind of comfort, but you could tell he was enjoying it in his own way.

Not giving him much time to lose his focus, you took one single step closer to him, the water streaming over your skin as you moved. His eyes opened when you reached for him again, but this time, your fingers slid over his flexing muscles, making him shiver under your touch.

"Shit," Daryl grunted, right before his hand shot out to stop you, his rough fingers sliding over your lips like he owned them. And you? You didn't even pretend to hesitate. Your lips parted on instinct, like they'd been waiting for his touch all along.

He watched you—those blue eyes narrowing as he slid his thumb into your mouth, slow, almost mocking you. You wrapped your lips around it and sucked, slowly, letting your tongue move around the tip of it like you wanted him to feel just how badly you needed more of him.

"That's it," he grunted as he watched you closely, that everlasting smirk returning to his lips. "Knew ya couldn't help yerself. Every damn time ya just gotta—"

He didn't even finish. It was as if the words got lost somewhere in the back of his throat before he pulled his thumb out and replaced it with two of his thick fingers. They pushed in deeper—past your lips, over your tongue, down until your jaw hurt, and you sucked on them just as greedily.

"Now actin' like ya were starvin' for it, huh?" He growled as his fingers stayed inside your throat, fucking your mouth with them. "Ain't the damn shower ya wanted. Nah. Coulda just fuckin' asked, ya know."

But you didn't wanna ask.

You never did.

Because with Daryl, it wasn't about asking—it was about taking. Anywhere. Even at a place like the CDC.

As the warm water continued to pour down, dripping off his head and running down his shoulders and chest, you looked down—truly looked down at him this time. That thick, veiny cock of his twitching, throbbing, leaking precum between his legs, and just begging to be touched.

With your hand immediately following your eyes, your fingers wrapped around his cock, and the hiss that came out of his mouth made your eyes widen.

"Fuck—" Daryl groaned out, his hips jerking forward the second you started to stroke him. It was slow at first, your fist tightening just a little near the tip to tease him a bit. "Ya tryna fuckin' kill me?"

But he didn't stop you. Didn't even want to.

Two of his fingers stayed in your mouth until you gagged lightly around them—but didn't pull away. His other hand came to grab the back of your neck, just enough to keep you there. Right where he wanted you to be.

"Look at ya… suckin' on my fingers like that while ya got yer hand on my cock... Jesus fuckin' Christ."

Drooling around Daryl's fingers by now, your lips feeling swollen from the pressure, eyes glassy as you moaned softly for him. You were grinding your thighs together again, barely breathing as you stroked him harder and faster, and he noticed—like he always did.

"Ya like that?" He asked, tilting his head as soon as he noticed how you were grinding and clenching your thighs together. "Like tastin' me while ya touchin' my cock?"

You nodded, or tried to, but his fingers pressed deeper down your throat and made your eyes water, long enough until he had you pushed down onto your knees in front of him.

Then he gripped his cock for a moment—just to line it up near your lips—and tapped the thick tip against them once. Twice. Smearing the water, his precum, and your spit across your mouth and chin.

"Open," he ordered, voice ragged. "Wanna see that mouth stretched 'round me."

Daryl looked as if he was close already. Due to need and by how your hand had felt on him, touching him like you never wanted to let go.

You parted your lips again, teasing him just a bit with the tip of your tongue.

"Hell, woman… I swear I'm gonna come just from this damn view," he growled. "Ya gonna swallow every drop I give ya?"

Biting your lower lip with a slight smile, you nodded slowly.

Your mouth opened obediently—eagerly—and your tongue moved out just to tease him once more, to taste the precum of him, and you knew he was trying hard to hold back.

He had one hand pressed against the wet wall behind you, the other in your drenched hair now, holding it tight enough to make it sting. "Bet ya been thinkin' 'bout this all damn day."

You didn't answer him anymore.

Instead, you sank your mouth down onto his cock, letting the underside of his shaft slide over your tongue until the tip pressed against the back of your throat. The groan that came out of Daryl was downright animalistic—deep, loud, and primal. He was already bucking forward before you even had all of him down.

"Shit—fuck—" He hissed, hips twitching as you sucked him in deeper.

You started to move—head bobbing, lips sucking tight, drool running down your chin as the water of the shower cleaned it away from above. Your hand worked what your throat couldn't reach, stroking the base while your tongue licked and flicked and worshipped.

"Yeah… just like that. Deep as ya can—don't stop."

His grip tightened in your hair, and he began to fuck your mouth a bit faster now, just enough to hear a few little gags.

"Got ya down on yer knees suckin' me off in a fuckin' shower like it's the only thing ya ever wanted."

You moaned around his cock—loud, needy—and the sound of it made him snarl, his other hand slapping against the wall, trying to hold himself together.

Knowing that he was right on edge already, since, after all, he'd been holding back so far, Daryl wanted to keep his focus only on what he worshipped the most. You.

But you felt it in every twitch of his cock, every groan, every grunt he couldn't bother hiding anymore, how much he wanted to let go. It made you suck harder, faster, one hand massaging his balls and the other gripping his trembling thigh.

"Shit, gonna—" He announced just as it was about to happen, shoving his cock in deep—just enough to make you gag one last time—before pulling back slightly with a strangled groan, hips jerking as he came hard, and his cum shooting onto your tongue and down your throat. But you kept sucking him, eyes looking up at him even though the water was still pouring down on you, tasting him.

Daryl's whole body shook, his chest rising and falling with quick gasps for air, with his mouth open as he stared down at you like he couldn't believe what you just did to him.

But before you could even swallow the last of his cum, he was grabbing you—pulling you back up against him with one arm around your waist, the other gripping your ass roughly. Your lips were still wet with him, so slick with drool and cum when he crashed his mouth onto yours.

He kissed you like a man starved. Tongue pushing in deep, tasting himself in your mouth, and growling like it turned him on all over again.

He didn't stop kissing you for as long as he could hold his breath, his hand sliding all over your ass again, fingers slipping between the cheeks, pressing right where you knew he loved to play and tease.

"Bet ya still want it," he then whispered against your jaw, pressing the tip of his finger deeper, not quite pushing inside, but just enough to make you whimper. "Even after takin' me down that pretty throat, ya still want it, don't ya? Wanting me…"

You moaned into Daryl's neck, clinging to him, your arms immediately wrapping around him as he held you like he was scared you might fall.

But he didn't push further. Not with your body still shivering, still breathless from how he'd handled you.

Letting go of you slowly, almost hesitantly, his eyes weren't leaving yours.

"Finish yer shower," he said after a while, that tiny smirk coming back onto his face again as he stepped out, still soaking wet, with the water dripping off him.

Not even reaching for a towel, he bent over, grunting as he took the shirt he'd ripped off earlier from the floor. It was wet, still dirty, and smelled like sweat—but that didn't stop him.

He just ran it down his arms and across his chest, barely bothering to dry himself off completely, though he didn't put it on, throwing it back onto the floor.

"Ain't closin' the door," he threw in, right before he grabbed his pants next, like anyone had asked. No boxers. He just shoved himself into his beat-up pair of pants like he hadn't just come down your throat like an animal. And then?

Then he dropped himself back on the wine-drenched couch.

Legs wide open. Shirtless. Still wet. One hand slid through his hair, the other resting between his thighs like he wasn't doing anything, but oh—he was doing everything. Just sitting there, smirking, and watching you.

Even when you thought he would maybe doze off from the heat and the exhaustion, you caught him looking from time to time—his eyes barely open, but still tracking you like you were prey.

You finished up slowly in the shower, dragging out every second just to see if he'd react once more. He didn't. But one hand did move just a little more south, his fingers resting dangerously close to where your mouth had just been.

And right when you thought he'd keep quiet, let you get that moment of silence, maybe even dry off in peace—Daryl was talking again.

"The hell are ya takin' so long in there for?" He grunted. "Ain't like ya gotta shave yer damn legs or nothin'. Who are ya tryna impress?"

"Maybe I just wanted a moment alone to clean your cum off my face, Dixon," you shot back, a towel half-wrapped around your waist as soon as you stepped out, not bothering to cover yourself much.

"Well, ya missed a spot," he grumbled, jerking his chin toward your mouth. "Right there."

Of course, you knew there wasn't anything left behind, but playing along, you licked the corner of your mouth just to taunt him and noticed how your legs were shaking again—but not from exhaustion right now.

From him.

From that man right there, sitting on a couch that smelled like sweat, wine, and you.

But you made no move to rush. No shame. No hurry. You walked toward him, still trembling, and without asking, you climbed right back onto him—straddling his lap, your thighs sliding over his pants as you sat down gently on top of him, like you were home there. His cock wasn't hard now—but it twitched under you anyway.

Daryl let out a low grunt when your ass moved into place, and one strong hand landed instinctively on your back.

"Ain't even dry yet, and yer sittin' on my lap like ya forgot how to stand straight…"

You leaned in, putting your arms loosely around his neck, brushing your nose lightly against his cheek.

"Neither are you," you whispered in return, smiling against his skin. "You'd say no?"

"Won't say 'no' to ya, woman. 'S the damn problem," Daryl answered, both his hands finding your hips now, holding you steady while you rolled them over his pants again. Then his mouth was on yours once more—brutal, with no warning, and slow, like he was trying to crawl inside you with just his tongue. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he kissed you, pulling your wet hair to tilt your head back.

And he didn't waste a second.

He bit down hard, just under your jaw, before sucking a bruise into your skin. Not a hickey—no, this was a mark. His mark. You felt your blood rush under the skin there, your pulse quickening, and the slight pain as his stubble scratched your neck and his mouth moved lower.

"Gonna wear that for me," he growled, his tongue licking over the bite. But before he could do anything further, you sat up straight, smiling, and reached for clothes of yours—wherever they'd landed earlier.

At least your shirt was within reach. Grabbing it quickly, you put it over your head as you stayed straddling him, and Daryl still watched, though he didn't speak. But those hands of his? They never stopped sliding over your body, even as you finished mostly dressing up.

Not knowing any better, you leaned into his ear and whispered, "Are you going to sit here looking like this, or are you gonna go get us another bottle?"

That got him.

"'Nother bottle o' red, huh?" He asked with an arched eyebrow. "Ya mean just like the one I poured down yer pussy while ya were all desperate for it?"

You grinned in return. "Maybe?"

He huffed—more laugh than annoyance—and smacked your thigh before pushing you off his lap. "Fine. But I ain't gettin' it just so we can talk feelings or none of that shit."

You stayed on the couch after he stood up, watching him as he went to grab his shirt again—the same one from before, dirty, soaked with some water, and wrinkled.

You half expected him to throw it aside again, but he didn't. He put it back on, scowling the whole time. "Fucked up my goddamn shirt."

"You ripped it off yourself, Daryl."

"Still counts."

He rolled his eyes—but a smile was there. Small. Tiny.

For another moment, the CDC was quiet. No walkers. No survival. Just you. Him. Another bottle of wine somewhere in the building. And the certainty that when he came back, you'd start all over again.

Then—because life clearly didn't know when to leave the both of you alone—you heard it.

A quick shout. Not far away. Muffled. Angry.

"Stay put," Daryl instantly said and walked out into the hallway.

That's when he saw him.

Shane leaned against the wall with several fresh and bleeding scratches across his face. He was clearly grumbling angrily to himself—pissed, drunk, and barely holding it together.

Daryl didn't say anything at first. He walked right past him like he wasn't even there, grabbed a new bottle from the dining area from before, and twisted the cap off to take a long sip as he walked back.

Then Shane opened his mouth.

"Dirty fucking redneck living off shit and actin' like he's got it all figured out…" He said to himself at first, right before coming at Daryl directly. "What are you looking at, Dixon?!"

"Hell, I dunno. Lookin' at some dickhead that got told ‘no' and got slapped the fuck down by someone who wouldn't piss on ya if ya were burnin'."

And just as Daryl answered, turning back to face Shane, you appeared at the end of the hallway. Barely clothed. Hair still wet. Lips swollen. And you were watching—just watching—in silence, with your arms crossed.

Shane looked you up and down—and then laughed. "That all you got, Daryl? That bitch will run away as soon as there's someone better! They're all the same!"

Daryl didn't answer right away.

He just stood there, the new wine bottle still in one hand. And his eyes? They were dead calm.

But calm on Daryl never exactly meant safe.

Then he took one long step forward. That wine bottle in his hand? He lifted it, right in front of Shane, and poured some of it onto the floor between them.

"Ya don't talk ‘bout her..."

Shane still laughed, but it was quieter now. "Jesus, what the hell's your problem?"

Daryl moved. Not his fist. No. Just got up in Shane's face until their foreheads almost touched.

"Ya wanna talk like a man? Act like one, 'cause right now? Y'ain't nothin' but an idiot that got turned down. I oughta rip yer tongue out and make ya choke on it along with yer damn teeth, just like I told ya 'fore. Ya hear me?"

One more look, and Daryl stepped away from him as if he'd already won. He walked right back toward you with that same death stare he got when he was about to kill a walker. Once in front of you, he took another long sip from the open bottle.

"C'mere…"

Daryl's fingers immediately gripped your jaw, tilting your face up as if to remind you—you're his. The kiss that followed wasn't gentle this time. He pushed your mouth open with his tongue only to spit the wine from his lips down your throat, making you swallow it all down as you grabbed his shirt, trying to keep yourself steady despite your trembling legs.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless. Drunk off him more than the wine.

But Shane? Shane still stood there, snarling like he couldn't stand to watch something he'd never have.

"Bet she tastes like regret and low standards," he said loudly, but he was too cowardly to look into Daryl's eyes anymore.

And just like that, Daryl turned back toward him, handing you the wine bottle. One last drop of it ran down his chin, but he didn't even bother wiping it off.

"Ya ask what she tastes like?" Daryl hissed, voice low. "Tastes like me. Ya want some? Ya can suck it off my fuckin' cock if ya beg hard 'nough."

You gasped—whether from the words or the way Daryl said them, you weren't sure. But your body was feeling weaker, and the wine bottle almost slipped from your fingers.

Then—only then—did Daryl step back, like he'd finished what needed finishing.

"Cop polish," he continued with a smirk, "still can't shine up a piece'a shit."

Looking you up and down slowly, Daryl took the bottle back from you like it belonged there—and so did you. His arm slid around your waist again, pulling you closer to him. And this time, when he kissed you?

It was feeling like ownership.

[starsewl]

Weekend Getaway

pairing: BestfriendModel!Mingyu & Dancer!Hoshi & Athlete!Dokyeom x Novelist!Reader

rating: 18+ | word count: 4.1k

summary: You join your longtime friend Mingyu and his two equally irresistible friends, Hoshi and Dokyeom on a quiet weekend getaway to a secluded villa. What begins as an innocent escape quickly turns into a night of unleashed lust. When the men discover your writing inspired by them, they decide to help your “research”—taking you through a wild, unrelenting night of overstimulation.

tw/cw: explicit sexual content, 4some, overstimulation, squirting, cigarette, piercing, harsh words

That weekend means nothing. No birthdays. No events. Just another two days in the calendar when Mingyu suddenly invites me to a getaway with him and his two friends. I say yes right away—I mean, who says no to spending a weekend with three stupidly attractive men?

Mingyu is a model. Not just “IG pretty”—he’s billboard, magazine cover, can-make-anything-look-luxury kind of gorgeous. The camera worships him. Every pose is deliberate, every angle flawless.

Hoshi’s energy hits different. He’s a dancer, owns a studio, and his body moves like it’s speaking a language only muscles and rhythm can understand. There’s power in every step, and joy in every spin.

Then there’s Dokyeom. A national swimmer. Tan lines, muscle lines, the kind of sunny smile that makes you think maybe the world isn’t all that bad. He’s friendly, comforting, and ridiculously built. He glows.

“You need healing,” Mingyu tells me, his deep voice wrapping around my bones like velvet. “I invited Hoshi and Dokyeom too.”

“They’re coming?” I sip my iced coffee, glancing over at Mingyu sprawled on my couch. His white t-shirt stretches across his chest like a second skin, and the shorts? They show off those lean legs way too easily. I swallow.

“Scared?” he teases, lips curving. He toys with my hoodie string, slow, seductive, like he knows.

“So confident.” I try to hide behind my coffee glass. “Why would I be scared?”

“Good.” He chuckles low. “We all need a break.”

I’ve known Mingyu since we were kids, growing up on the same street, fighting over swings and comic books. But this Mingyu? The man with the body, the voice, the look—he’s dangerous now. And still my best friend. Maybe that’s the problem.

“Maybe I’ll get some writing inspiration,” I shrug, though my last novel was already a thinly disguised fantasy involving these three men. They don’t know. Only they know I write adult romance. Everyone else just thinks I’m a writer.

“Bring your laptop,” Mingyu says as he stands and walks closer. Each step is slow, like he’s stalking something. “You might get new ideas.”

He stops beside me, towering. I tilt my head to meet his eyes. He smells like cologne, cedar, and something warmer—his skin maybe? My mouth goes dry.

“This weekend, okay?” he murmurs, eyes locked to mine. “Don’t forget.”

***

Two days later, Mingyu's car drove slowly along a narrow path framed by tall pine trees. The rows of sturdy trunks formed a kind of green tunnel, wrapping the road in natural shadows that made this place feel like another world. After the last bend was passed, a two-story wooden villa appeared in front of our eyes—looking like a house from a romcom movie: a spacious terrace with wooden chairs, large windows welcoming light, and a backyard directly bordered by dense forest. Fresh air. The sound of birds and wind whispers through the leaves.

“Wow, this is so cool!” Hoshi bursts out first, running toward the front door with arms stretched like a kid.

“It’s way too close to the forest,” I mutter. “What if someone tries to kidnap us?”

“They’d give you back for being too loud,” Dokyeom laughs, pulling bags from the trunk.

“Asshole,” Hoshi fires back, still grinning.

Inside? Oh god. Wooden walls. Dark floors that creak just right. A stone fireplace. A soft L-shaped sofa facing the forest view. Kitchen gleaming with marble and metal. A huge table in the middle—thick wood, perfect for late dinners... or something else.

“There are three bedrooms,” Mingyu says, tapping the door code. “One downstairs, two up.”

“Perfect,” Hoshi says, flopping onto the sofa. “So how are we splitting?”

“Room with me,” Dokyeom answers instantly.

“Okay!!” Hoshi chirps, no hesitation.

***

Night settles in like a blanket. Hoshi insists on cooking—claims he makes “god-level ramyeon,” even though he’s clearly never touched a kitchen in his life. We don’t argue.

The result? Surprisingly good. Spicy, hot, with soft-boiled eggs and dumplings Dokyeom makes from scratch. We sit around the massive wooden table, laughter echoing through the room, stories tossed around like old shoes.

“You never talk about your novel,” Hoshi says suddenly, giving me a sly look over his chopsticks. “Mingyu said you write hot scenes.”

I choke on broth. “I didn’t say that!”

“But you did,” Mingyu smirks, handing me a tissue. “Over lunch. Last month.”

“What genre is it exactly?” Dokyeom asks, tone too innocent.

“Romance,” I reply quickly. “Just… normal romance.”

“What kind of romance?” Hoshi leans forward, elbow on the table, mischief in his eyes. “Vanilla? Or with a little spice?”

My face burns. They can’t know the truth. Can’t know my last draft is basically them—but naked and tangled in sheets.

“A little spicy,” I mumble, heart thudding.

“A little?” Mingyu raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you tell me it made you hot while writing it?”

Fuck. Did I really say that?

“I want to read it!” Hoshi perks up.

“You brought your laptop, right? C’mon, share it!”

“No,” I protest fast. “It’s not done. Still a mess.”

“So when it’s finished?” Dokyeom smiles. “You’ll let us read it, right?”

My chair scrapes back. “Anyone want dessert? I saw ice cream.”

“She’s running away…” Hoshi whispers to Dokyeom, just loud enough for me to hear.

***

After dinner, everyone returns to their rooms except for me. I am alone in the living room. The atmosphere is calm. I sit on the long sofa in the living room, laptop on my lap, a glass of wine on the side table. Only a small lamp in the corner of the room is on, creating a dim atmosphere perfect for writing. Outside, the sound of wind and night birds can sometimes be heard, interspersed with the creaking of wood.

I continue my pending novel draft. This chapter is really difficult to write, not because I don't know what to write, but because it is too... intense. The main female character in my novel is trapped in a situation similar to mine now—in a remote place with three guys who make her breathless.

"Five minutes passes in torturous silence. She can feel their gazes like physical touches on her skin. His hand slips in, his breath heavy in my ear. Amid the beating, I can only surrender. Surrender to their bodies drawing closer—three men, three scents, three tongues, three sins."

I stop typing. Take a deep breath. Somehow my fingers move uncertainly over the keyboard. I sip the wine slowly, trying to calm myself. But the images are already clear in my head—three pairs of hands, three pairs of eyes, three...

"So this is how you write your steamy scenes?

A familiar deep voice. I turn, and there—Mingyu, standing half-leaning against the wall near the kitchen, wearing a thin, slightly wrinkled t-shirt, loose boxer shorts. His hair is messy and his eyes half-sleepy.

"Shit," I hurriedly close the laptop. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not spying. You're sitting in the middle of the room, how could I not see?" he says casually, sitting at the end of the sofa, near my feet. "I'm just curious. Who's that about?"

"It's not about anyone, it's fiction." I answer quickly.

"But the inspiration must come from somewhere."

He leans back, his large shoulder almost touching my bare leg. "You're writing a scene with three guys, one girl, in the middle of the night. Coincidence?"

I open my mouth to answer, but a sound from the direction of the stairs cuts off our conversation.

"Oh, you're both still up?" Hoshi appears walking casually, but his eyes immediately go to the laptop on my lap.

"You're writing?" He walks closer and immediately sits on the sofa back behind me, bending down from above, his chin very close to my head. "Can I read it?"

"No," I answer quickly.

"Then you must be writing a steamy scene, huh," he replies with a laugh. "You're really... it's always the innocent one."

Before I can hit him with a pillow, one more person appears from the room hallway, Dokyeom. His hair is messy, his voice hoarse typical of someone who just woke up.

"Why is it noisy here? I thought someone was fighting."

“Our little writer here’s working on a threesome,” Mingyu says, poking my leg.

“Insane,” I mutter, pinching his thigh.

Dokyeom just grins and sinks to the carpet in front of me. “Tell us what it’s about.”

Three pairs of eyes on me. I freeze.

Mingyu leans in, voice low. “If you don’t want to tell us…”

His fingers brush my thigh.

“…maybe show us instead.”

 I don’t know when the laptop slides under the table. Maybe it’s when Hoshi’s fingers tug at the back of my shirt, making that slow, drawn-out creeeek sound, like old wood cracking under pressure. Too suggestive. Too real. Or maybe it’s Dokyeom—now sitting on the sofa beside me, one hand curled around my calf, the other gliding up the inside of my thigh. Those fingers? Big. Warm. Deliberate.

My thoughts are gone.

Mingyu’s hand finds my cheek, brushing a strand of hair away. “Do you write like this every night?”

His voice drips with something darker now. Closer. He already knows the answer.

“No…” I whisper, breath catching. “Only when I’m… needy.”

He leans in, lips grazing my ear. “Are you needy now?”

I don’t answer with words. I kiss him.

Soft. Slow. Wet. His lips crush mine like he’s been waiting years. His tongue slides over mine, coaxing, tasting, controlling. The wine on his mouth mixes with the heat in my blood.

“Mmhh…”

My moan is the spark.

Behind me, Hoshi chuckles. “I want my turn too.”

He dips down, mouth meeting the side of my neck. His lips are warm, tongue bold, tracing fire along my skin. Then—Dokyeom. His hand is no longer idle. It slides under my shirt, palms my breast through the fabric, thumb brushing my nipple until I shudder. He kisses my shoulder. I gasp.

They lift me.

I don’t resist. Don’t question.

Mingyu and Dokyeom each take a side, lifting me like I weigh nothing. They carry me toward the thick wooden dining table. Hoshi follows, steps silent but intent sharp in his gaze. They set me on the edge, the cool wood shocking against the backs of my thighs. My shirt is half off already, crumpled around my arms. Hands strip the rest—tugging, sliding, exposing me fully. I’m left in nothing but thin black panties. Breathless. Goosebumps everywhere.

“You guys…” My voice trembles. “…I’ve never—ahh…”

Hoshi steps forward, eyes flicking down. His tongue peeks out—and that’s when I see it. The piercing. Silver. Gleaming on the tip of his tongue.

“You like what you see?” he teases, licking his lips. “Wanna know how it feels… on your pretty pussy?”

His hand wraps around my throat. Gentle, firm. Seeking permission. When I nod, barely—he moves.

His tongue trails from my collarbone to my chest. Slow. Deliciously slow. He doesn’t suck. Not yet. He teases. The cold metal of his piercing circles my nipple, sending shocks through me. I arch, hips bucking.

“H-hoshi…” I moan, louder now.

“Don’t hold back, princess,” Dokyeom whispers, behind me. His voice rumbles like thunder. “I want to hear you.”

Mingyu kisses my stomach. His hands rest on my thighs, spreading me wider. The kiss lowers. Each one more unbearable than the last. Behind, Dokyeom unclasps my bra. He doesn’t kiss. He blows. The cold air hits wet skin—Hoshi’s tongue still dancing—and I nearly break.

“S-shit…” I cry out. “Feels good…”

“Do you know…” Hoshi murmurs, still licking, “…I’ve imagined painting your body with my tongue… one line… all the way down…”

I’m writhing. Moving without meaning to.

Then Mingyu’s fingers slide inside my panties.

They don’t move at first. They just… rest. Pressing against soaked heat. Then—he starts. A slow rhythm. Deep strokes. His knuckles graze the soft lips between my thighs and I lose it.

“Ahh—fuck… Gyu…” I choke on the moan.

“Damn,” he grunts. “You’re leaking.”

He kisses below my navel, tongue dipping down, lower. Dokyeom’s hands are everywhere—palming my ass, guiding my back into his chest, whispering filth into my ear.

“You've been thinking about this, huh? Getting ruined by all three of us?”

“No—I—fuck—”

I didn't finish the sentence. Hoshi’s still sucking, piercing grinding my nipple. Dokyeom now on his knees behind, kissing the small of my back. Mingyu lowers, mouth nearing the place where his fingers just were. He peels the panties down—slowly. So slowly. Until I’m exposed. He doesn’t hesitate. He eats. Tongue first. Broad. Heavy. Licking up every drop. His lips seal over my clit, sucking hard.

“Akh—fuck!”

My whole body arches. I grab the edge of the table, the wood creaking beneath my grip.

“Time to make some material for a new chapter,” Mingyu growls between licks.

I moan. Loud. Unrestrained.

Hoshi’s hands work my chest. Dokyeom kisses the shell of my ear, still whispering.

I lose track of time. My orgasm crashes through me like a wave. Legs trembling. Breath gone. My panties hang off one foot. The table is a mess of sweat and slick.

And they’re not done.

Dokyeom had already returned to sit on the previous sofa. He leaned back casually but full of dominant aura. Legs spread wide, his hoodie already gone. His body was already completely naked, one hand patting his left thigh, signaling me to climb up and sit on his lap.

"Come on," he said slowly. But his voice was sharp.

"I want to feel you on my thigh."

"Thigh?" I was still panting.

"Practice everything you write."

And somehow, my body immediately responded to that command. Without asking. Without thinking. I got down from the table, walked slowly toward him. My legs were trembling, not because I was afraid. Rather... because I was curious. Because I imagined the hardness of his thigh—just looking at it, the muscles were as sharp as carvings. Especially when he sat like that, the position of his legs was very enticing. Big. Hard. Solid. Like covered in concrete.

I climb up. Slowly. One of my legs passed over his thigh, and my butt landed right on top of Dokyeom's left thigh. I leaned against his chest, hands resting on his shoulders for balance.

And when I moved a little... "Ah, fuck." I immediately moans loudly. I felt the hardness of his muscles parting between my legs. The friction immediately hit the most sensitive point.

"Enjoy it." Dokyeom leaned back, his eyes half-closed. But his hands went up to my waist, holding, directing the movement. "Move slowly first."

I start to move. A little. Up and down. Rubbing back and forth. "Mmmh... unghh..." my moans got louder, more uncontrollable.

Every time I rubbed forward, he deliberately hardened his thigh muscles. When I moved backward, the wet feeling from my own fluids made the friction even more slippery. My hands start to tremble, my nails pressing into his shoulders.

"Feels good... Dok-yeom... ahh... so good...shit!" I moaned in his ear, making him squeeze my hips harder.

When I looked behind, Mingyu and Hoshi were sitting not far away, in chairs across from us. They were busy watching the movement of my hips while stroking their own.

"Do you see her hips, Gyu?" muttered Hoshi to Mingyu, eyes not leaving me. "Fuck... I'm so hard."

Mingyu didn't answer. But his hand was clearly licking the tip of his finger, then stroking himself. His eyes focus, sharp, shifting to look from my lips, to my chest, to my hip movements that were getting wilder up and down. Dokyeom grins, tightening his thigh, making the pressure brutal. “Faster,” he whispers, slapping my ass. “Soak me.”

I whimper. I grind harder. Loud. Wet. The sound of skin and slick fills the room. Just as I’m about to explode—

“Not yet,” Mingyu growls.

I cry out in frustration. He stands in front of me. Hard. Thick. His cock hovers near my lips.

“Open,” he orders.

I do.

He slides in. My lips wrap around the head. His taste is salty, hot. His hand grips my hair while Dokyeom moves behind me. His hand still grabs my waist. I feel him shift slightly—then I hear it.

A soft click. I glance back. A lit match glows between his fingers. A cigarette rests between his lips. My breath catches.

“Do you mind?” he asks, the flame dancing near his face. Calm. Controlled.

Fuck. That’s so fucking sexy of him.

I shake my head, slow. No way in hell I’d stop him. He smiles—lazy, sinful—and lights it. The tobacco scent fills the air, thick and expensive with a hint of mint. He exhales upward, smoke curling around the soft lamp light, casting shadows on the ceiling.

Then Hoshi moves in front too. Replaces Mingyu. He pushes in deep. His piercing scrapes my lip as he moans, the smell of mint and smoke filling my lungs as I gag around Hoshi’s cock. Then he pulls back, smirking. “Time to show you what this tongue ring can really do.”

He drops down, squatting in front of me. Dokyeom’s hand flies to my back, steadying me so I don't fall from the shift. Hoshi's face is now right in front of my cunt, his eyes gleaming mischief.

“Pull her legs wider,” Hoshi tells Dokyeom. “I want to see everything.”

Dokyeom obeys immediately, his large hands hooking behind my knees and spreading me open, obscenely wide. I have no shame anymore—it's gone. Completely. Too good to care. Hoshi starts kissing my thighs, soft, barely there. Moving up, inch by inch, taking his time. He pauses at my center, blowing softly. My entire body jolts.

“You want to feel it?” he whispers, flicking out his tongue to flash the metal glint. “Been thinking about this since I met you.”

Before I can answer, his tongue touches down. Oh fuck— the cold metal meeting the heat of my cunt punches a moan from my throat that I can't swallow. That tiny barbell moves with wicked precision, gliding, pressing, circling all the right places, stealing the air from my lungs.

My head falls back against Dokyeom’s chest. He’s still smoking, still impossibly calm, his fingers threading through my hair. “Feel good?” he whispers, blowing warm smoke into my ear.

“Nnghh…” That's all I can manage. Because Hoshi’s piercing is dancing, up and down, cold in the middle of all that hot wet. His tongue’s a weapon. That metal? Unfair.

Mingyu’s still standing nearby, eyes dark and locked on me. His hand’s moving on its own, stroking, his breath short and shallow.

“Want to switch?” Dokyeom offers, exhaling a lazy stream of smoke.

Mingyu nods, taking a seat. I’m shifted, lifted from Dokyeom’s lap to Mingyu’s thighs. Hoshi doesn’t stop—his head still buried, tongue still working, god, that fucking piercing. Dokyeom stands, approaching. His eyes low, hungry. He unzips, cigarette hanging loose between his lips. The smoke swirls, thickening the air, choking it with tension.

“Open your mouth again,” he says, standing before me.

I do it without hesitation. Not because I’m scared—but because I want it. Desperately. His cock pushes past my lips, and the taste of mint and tobacco from his breath set me on fire.

Below, Hoshi goes feral. His tongue presses, swirls, that piercing spinning like a toy built for my destruction. My hips jerk on their own. I’m drowning in sensation.

“She’s about to cum,” Hoshi mutters, watching my thighs quiver. “Look at her tremble.”

“Don’t hold back,” Mingyu whispers, his hand tightening around my waist. “We want to see you lose control.”

Dokyeom removes his cigarette, blowing smoke up, lazy. “Show us,” he whispers, thrusting deeper into my throat.

And I break. Hoshi’s cold tongue, Mingyu’s warm hands, Dokyeom’s deep thrust and smoke curling through the room—it blends, it explodes, and my body shakes violently. Moans trapped in my stuffed mouth, tears leaking from my eyes as my orgasm rips through me.

Dokyeom collapses onto the sofa, his cigarette spent. Hoshi’s head rests against my thigh, that damn gleaming metal catching the light. Mingyu is still behind me, steady hands holding my shoulders.

My body’s wrecked. I’m trembling on the table, limbs limp, cunt soaked and twitching. I’ve lost count—Mingyu’s tongue, Hoshi’s piercing, Dokyeom’s fingers—it’s all just a blur of brutal pleasure. My lungs can’t keep up. My hair’s stuck to my face, sweat-slicked, my skin humming.

Then Mingyu leans close, breath brushing my ear, voice deep, cruel, so fucking composed.

“You look done, baby,” he says. “But we haven’t even fucking started.”

My stomach tightens. I try to move—protest? beg?—but my body’s shot. I don’t even notice until he grabs my hips, yanking me to the edge of the table, legs forced wide again.

Hoshi’s voice cuts in, thick with amusement. “She looks ruined.”

“She’s not ruined,” Dokyeom says behind him, voice like thunder. “Not yet.”

Mingyu’s cock presses to my entrance, thick, hard, slick with my own cum—and then he slams in. No warning. My scream tears loose, hoarse and raw. My whole body jolts, fingernails clawing at the table, grasping for anything. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even pause. Just pounds into me, merciless.

“Still fucking tight,” he groans, dragging out, slamming back in to the hilt. “Even after soaking the whole table.”

Then—fuck. Hoshi’s there again, sliding beneath me, mouth open, tongue already out.

“No! no, fuck—don’t—” I gasp, too sensitive, too much—

But he dives in, licking where Mingyu’s cock’s plunging in and out, flat tongue, cold metal tapping my clit. I scream again. My body’s spasming, unable to escape, unable to breathe. Mingyu grips tighter, using me like a fuckdoll, cock pounding.

“She’s already shaking,” Hoshi laughs, face glossy with my slick. “Sensitive little thing.”

“Make her cum again,” Dokyeom growls, lazily stroking himself in the shadows. “I want to see her break.”

Mingyu’s rhythm intensifies. The sound is filthy—wet, deep, messy. The stretch is brutal. Every thrust slams into something that makes me cry out. And that piercing—fuck—it flicks, circles, devastates my clit without pause.

And then I lose it.

My hips seize, my body jerks, and a burst of liquid sprays out, soaking them both. I scream into the wood, legs twitching, my pussy clamping around Mingyu’s cock so hard he groans. He pulls out. Cock twitching. Still not done.

“Clean it,” he commands.

Hoshi obeys instantly. Mouth open, licking up Mingyu’s shaft, dragging his tongue through the slick mess. I’m barely conscious. Then I feel breath—warm and heavy—by my ear. “Our turn.”

It’s a blur. Everything is soaked, ruined, twitching. My brain’s melting, cunt leaking, but I’m not empty for long. Hands find my hips—two pairs. One set is Hoshi’s—playful, familiar. The other? Big, rough, possessive. Dokyeom.

“Please…” I whisper, no clue who I’m begging. “More…”

Hoshi bends over my back, chest to mine, whispering in my ear. “Think you can take both of us, slut?”

I don’t answer. Just arch, spread my legs wider, that fluttering hole inviting them in. Dokyeom groans, low and hungry. “She’s still fucking leaking.”

They both press in. Hoshi first—curved, smooth. Then Dokyeom, thicker, his head nudging the same soaked entrance. They slide in together, side by side, stretching me impossibly.

“Oh god—oh fuckfuckfuck—” I can’t speak. The stretch is overwhelming. My pussy fights it, then yields, takes them both in like it’s what I was made for.

“Look at her,” Hoshi whispers. “Taking both of us. So fucking greedy.”

“She was made for this,” Dokyeom growls, gripping my hips. “She’s sucking us in.”

Once they’re both balls-deep, they start to move. Slow. Together. Fucking me like one monster cock.

I scream. Loud. Raw. Mingyu watches lazily, stroking himself. “You wanted inspiration, right?”

No answer. I’m too far gone.

The pace picks up. The wet slap of hips, the obscene sound of their cocks rubbing inside me, the feeling of being stretched to my limit—it rips me open. Juices pouring, thighs shaking, everything soaked. I’m clamping down on them, trying to trap them inside.

“Gonna cum,” Hoshi pants. “Gonna cum inside her—”

“Not yet,” Dokyeom growls. “Make her squirt first.”

They fuck me harder. My body locks up. Nerve endings burning. And then—boom. Another jet sprays out, harder than the last. Splattering everything. My scream’s already half dead, but I make some sound. I can’t even tell what. They don’t stop. They hold me down. Ride me through it, through the aftershocks, until I feel their own groans building.

“Fuck fuck fuck—cumming—”

“Me too—take it—take all of it—”

They slam in together one last time. Their cocks pulse, spilling thick, hot cum inside me, so much it leaks out immediately, white rivulets dripping down my legs. They stay buried for a moment, twitching, before they finally pull out. I collapse, limp, stretched open, cum pouring out.

And then—Mingyu leans close, presses a kiss to my cheek, and murmurs with a smirk—

“Ready for round two?”

[a-ikus]

w/c: 1.1k warning/s: repost apologies, at home piercing (very unsafe do not ever pierce ur own tongue for the love of god)

"hold still."

"schorry."

"that means don't speak, idiot."

you roll your eyes in response, pointedly staring at your best friend after you do. his own tongue bar clacking against his teeth when he bites his tongue, concentrating on yours, stuck out over your lips for him to inspect. dyed black hair was all you could see as he dipped, twisted, turned and tilted his head, latex all you could taste as he lifted your tongue with a gloved hand, adjusting the muscle as necessary.

"stick it out as far as you can." you follow touya's instructions, adjusting yourself in the bathroom sink, touya subconsciously stepping further between them when your thighs slip apart, his eyes still focused on your mouth as he stares, his eyebrows drawing further down his face.

you lick your lips as soon as he turns away, attempting to ease the discomfort of your dried lips and pooling saliva from holding your tongue out for so long. touya flashes you a playfully disapproving glance, reaching for the pile of tools sat beside you on the porcelain sink.

"think you can do it?" you study your face like he'd studied your tongue, mapping every freckle, mole, vein, scar and piercing marring the face of the little boy you'd met, you love him like this, you think. so perfectly touya. just as much your touya as he'd been as a hot-headed tween, dragging you by your hand into his room to show off action figures, just as much your touya as he was at sixteen, after his first piercing (well, technically first two, he'd gotten both nostrils at once), when he'd snuck into your room after his mother had seen the gems flash the moment he walked through the door, promising he'd go back home if you watched a new horror movie with him.

"'course i can, gorgeous," you begin to fidget, growing more and more nervous the more he toyed with the tools, gathering what he needed; preparing iodine, lubricant, the needle, the taper and of course the titanium bar. picking up a tissue and something else you can't see, he turns to face you again, inching closer once more, his hips nearly bumping your own on the sink, "that's the point of being a bad influence, isn't it?"

grinning, he pokes his tongue out, metal flashing under low lights, making you hyper aware once more of what you're tucked in your bathroom to do, "alright, out all the way again."

"is that the needle?" you think your voice shakes, staring at the tool he grasped in his left hand with wide eyes, a quiet, wobbly tone like a scared child.

"marker, baby doll, gotta make sure i pierce your pretty tongue nice and straight." touya's smile is crooked, a tiny flash of pearly teeth behind pierced, pink lips.

"oh, okay." still with a wobble in your speech when you begin to fiddle with your fingers, trying to focus instead on the multitude of misshapen chips in your nail polish, trying to decide what colour you might paint them next, wondering if touya will match you with a navy blue, or if the matching tongue bars will be enough.

"i can get you a towel to squeeze? if you're scared?" his voice is low, hushed as he pats your tongue dry, glancing up to your doe eyes as you shake your head, attempting to say you were okay with your tongue out. touya had countless piercings, certain there's more than you can see right now, countless times he'd gone through this process; sanitising, marking, piercing, and not once can you imagine him squeezing something soft in his hands for comfort, digging blunt, painted nails into a plush, imagining a curious face instead, sharp eyes following the needle as you avoided it, maybe crunching his eyes closed in a wince at the very last moment, when the sharp, unforgiving needle tip forced its way through squishy flesh.

"you sure?" he taps the pen on your thoroughly dried tongue, a tiny purple dot staining the centre of your tongue, the fine marker tip making you jump, overly sensitive with adrenaline pulsing through your body, waiting to nod until after he placed the pen aside.

"if you say so, baby doll." you feel the smooth latex of the glove on your tongue again, adjusting his hold on the tip of your tongue to hold the twitching muscle still, looking up to your eyes once more, noticing how you squeezed them shut the moment his muscles twitched to reach beside you for the sterile needle.

"ready?"

"uhuh."

"breathe in." your hands twitch in your lap as you suck in a deep breath, holding it in your chest even as he chastises you for it, muttering a quiet, gentle, "you have to breathe out, too, idiot."

your hands fly to his hips the second the needle touches your tongue, not even quite piercing it yet, gripping him like your life depended on it, a soft whimper echoing from the back of your throat as the needle came out through the underside, your exhale shaky as you clutch touya's hips tighter, your body tense as he whispers soft encouragements for you to keep breathing, "go nice and slow, gorgeous, like that."

you listen as best you can, focusing on the sensation of the denim underneath your fingertips, how it feels to drag your nails over the material, how your lungs inflate and deflate, how touya's voice sounds in the shell of your ear as he comforts you, praising your stillness as he places the bar at the end of the taper.

"i'm gonna put the bar in now, baby, you ready?" you don't nod, not risking moving, instead shifting your fingers to slide under the hem of his shirt, gently tapping thrice on his hot skin, y-e-s, before tucking your fingers securely into his hemline, holding him as tightly as you could when he instructs you to breathe again, "in, 1-2-3, out. did so perfect, baby."

touya doesn't move, doesn't step out of your gravity, out of your hold on him, back three steps into safety from whatever was blooming between you the longer you held him between your thighs with saliva gathering on your swollen tongue, a minuscule amount of tears gathering in your waterline with your wobbly exhale. you make no move either, keeping your hands tucked into the hem of his faded jeans, your tongue out and your eyes closed, cracking one open only when he rests his hands on your thighs, "you will not live it down if you drool on me."

closing your mouth, you giggle before wincing, resting your head on his chest as you whined out at him, "ow, touya, don't make me laugh."

[letsyapthenightaway]

The Hockey Boys x Plus size!Reader

TikTok Trends

Quinn Hughes - "Give a Bitch Some Head Or Something"

He would have the biggest smirk on his face. Is caught off guard for like a second before he's doing that smirk laugh he does. He'd pull you closer and have a sly "bet?" To him. Idk how this fandom decided he's munch but apparently so. Makes some kind of comment after the TikTok "so...can I really?"

Jack Hughes - "Somebody point me to the best ass eater"

There's 2 ways this can go. He's 100% for the TikTok and he exaggerates like crazy. Just a joyful Jack that is cracking up by the end. Would rewatch it with the biggest smile "I look so crazy" Or He just stands there shaking his head then walks away. He is NOT about to do this trend with you. "No, that's not happening"

Luke Hughes - "No one would hear you scream"

Stands there for a second "Babe what did you say?" Has the most confused face to him as he side eyes you. "What are you going to do? I'm taller, stronger, and quicker" Lowkey thinks of escape routes. Your plus size and he's your boyfriend he knows your stamina, he knows how far he'll get. Once in the car he scuffs and shakes his head with a small laugh.

Nico Hischier - "Damn I'm so hungry I could eat a BF"

Has the most sheepish smile and laughs. Rubs the back of his neck "Really?" I wanna say he'd try to pull you closer (specifically by the thighs idk I just feel like he'd drag you closer by them with a grip) then notice your phone. Slightly disappointed it's for a TikTok but I can also Lowkey picture him saying the same thing back but with GF. You owe him and he's sly he'll get it.

Matt Rempe - "Jacked and kind"

Everyone agrees this would be the trend for him? He'd agree so quickly! He can pick you up and flex his muscles while at it? Yes. Honestly might offer this TikTok to you, it wasn't your idea. You had seen it and liked it but were nervous because of your size. You knew Matt was strong but it was simple quick pick ups. With that one he'd have to actually hold and lift. But he's confident and would Lowkey guilt you into it "come on babe! Wouldn't it be so cute? We can be one of those cute couples"

Connor Berdard - " H.S.K.T By LeeHi"

He's so awkward during the filming that it's adorable. Fans notice how stiff he is but the way he admires you is so cute! It took him a GOOD minute to figure the trend out and what he needed to do. Honestly feel like he'd make sure you're the center fixing your outfit, hair, and stepping back more than necessary. At the end he either pulls you in close by the waist or lets you pull him in for a kiss.

[biteyoubiteme]

Making out with yeonjun!! Nothing more just a hot make out session 😍

an: i dont know how this came out so long ;-; its not the best lmao i feel so stuck when i write kissing lmao but you know what making out with yeonjun would fix me and now its all i can think of. [m.list] wc: 1.1k warnings: rivals? to lovers, kissing, uuumm i think that's it lol

“You know you don't have to act like you hate me when no one else is around,” the sound of his voice cut through the rhythmic tapping of your shoe. 

You had known not to take the elevator, the constant reminder of the steady on and off out-of-service light blinking had been for well over two months. One day working, only to be caught halfway between floors the next. It had become a habit now to walk around to the other side of the building if you wanted a ride, or just to take the climb up the flights of stairs. It would burn your legs, but it would be better than being stuck here with yeonjun. 

The clock had only just hit the final hour in your overtime schedule. The city lights bright through the glass windows lining the back of your office. It had been in a moment of weakness, tired enough not to care if the elevator got stuck, if it meant you didn't have to walk down all the steps. You had almost been in the clear for the lone ride, the doors just an inch from closing, before yeonjun stuck his hand in to reel the doors back open. 

Your back had straightened, eyes narrowing as he gave you that cocky grin, “room for one more?” he knew the affect he had on you, knew it the moment he had joined your sales team and started to match your numbers and annoyingly surpass them on occasion. 

It wouldn't have bothered you much; you still hit quotas and pulled in more money than the company needed, but it was his arrogance that tipped you over the edge. So when the elevator stopped, jerking to a halt only a floor before the lobby, you couldn't help but sigh, foot tapping in annoyance the second the button for maintenance was pressed. 

“I never said I hated you,” You didn't have to look back to know he was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets like he couldn't care less about the situation, “I do find you irritating.” 

He let out a short loud laugh like the sound had been pulled from him without him even realizing it. “Most people find me charming and charismatic,” 

“Most people, the less irritating type, don't go around listing their supposed qualities when no one asked for them,” and it was in the next laugh that you decided to shut him up. The way he found your annoyance funny ticked that internal clock of yours, counting down the seconds to blowing up. 

You didn't even listen to what he came back with. The words cut off the second you turned and leaned into him, his surprised hum caught right on the edge of your mouth. And he didn't even push you away, one hand coming up, ghosting over your cheek before you pulled away. “Now, will you shut up?” 

The kiss had effectively worked to quiet him, his eyes hazy and blinking at you like he was coming back from somewhere he never expected to go. In the half-second move to turn back around, yeonjun had caught you like he had the elevator, hand swift in pulling you back to him. 

He gave you no time to breathe, his mouth on yours, stealing your muffled shock. It had never crossed your mind if yeonjun would or would not be a good kisser; it was written into everyone's mind that he must be, especially when he always kept that teasing smirk right on the edge of his mouth. 

It was on instinct to want to reach out to you, his hands finding your waist, sliding along the smooth material of your work shirt. The elevator was too small to go anywhere but up against the wall. Yeonjun was effortlessly addictive in seconds, a hit that melted your body against his, destroying your inhibitions. 

Only a moment ago, you were annoyed, tired, and wished to be anywhere but here with him. Now your hands were curling along his neatly placed hair, tangling up in the strands while he chased your lips for more with every breath you pulled away to take. 

It was easily passed as a moment of weakness if it had stayed with nothing more than a fleeting lapse in judgment. But neither of you pulled away, not when he gave you the opportunity and started to kiss down your jaw, down your neck. His lips leave a trail over your pulse, your soft whine so loud in the cramped space. Yeonjun pressed his hips closer to you, locking you in place as if he could trap you right there, as if he could keep the sounds you made for him alone. 

When he pulled away, fingers still digging into your hips, your tucked shirt half pulled from the waistband of your skirt, the two of you blinked back in silent shock. His lips a deeper red, soft and flushed from the kissing, his eyes tracing over your features as the two of you looked back at what you had done. 

And neither of you cared, not when you tugged him back to you. The entirety of him devouring you up, trying to savor the moment as if you would push him away at any second. Because kissing you had been on his mind for longer than he'd care to admit, and even if you had done it to shut him up he would only get worse with annoying you if this was his reward disguised as nothing more than a petty punishment. 

But it was over too soon, the elevator jumping back ot life, pouring a bucket of ice water over the two of you. Caught in front of no one but each other. Both of you mess, silently agreeing to ignore what had happened as you pushed your hand back through his hair, only this time to put all the strands back into place. His fingers were steadily helping to tuck back in your shirt as if he wasn't doing the opposite of what he wanted. 

“Back to pretending you hate me?” his brows jumping up in question as you rolled your eyes. 

“Still undeniably annoying, people like you shouldn't be so good at kissing.” You smoothed your hand over his tie, needing some distraction as the elevator dinged right at the lobby. 

“People who are charming, charismatic, and handso-” he was leaning back in, nose dipping just enough to pull you back in before you pushed him away. He knew the trick to your weakness now, and it was hard to resist him when knowing the outcome. 

“Still annoying, goodnight yeonjun,” casually thrown over your shoulder as you tried to rush right out the door.

[bloodlineslut]

Live | Jey Uso

Pairings: Jey Uso x black! OC

Warnings: none just fluff; jey being the cutie patootie he is

Summary: Jey just got back to the hotel from a hockey game with CM Punk to find his girl on live doing her skincare routine for her TikTok account, & decides to pop in.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: best idea that ever popped in my head

“Alright Jey, catch you tomorrow for a workout?” Punk dapped Jey up in the hallway, confirming that they were still on for the gym in the morning.

“You know it man, cmon. Bright and early too.” Jey told him, patting him on the back as they departed to go to their own hotel rooms.

As Jey walked closer to the door, he reached in his pocket for his key card…

Only to find it wasn’t there.

He smacked his teeth and knocked on the door, hoping that Brianna was awake by now. She wasn’t feeling well earlier because of her allergies, otherwise she would’ve went to the hockey game with him.

“I knew this boy forgot his key.” He heard her say on the other side of the door before swinging it open, hand on her hip.

He already knew what she was gonna say. “I know, baby. I know.” He put his hands up in surrender, walking into the room and bending down to give her a kiss.

“Mm, you smell good.” He leans back down, putting his nose against her neck for another whiff of her perfume.

Brianna’s hand goes to his arm as she laughs and tries to pull away, remembering that her phone was still on live with her followers waiting patiently for her return.

“Damn girl.” He comes up for a second to talk before going back to sniffing her.

“Jey!” She was laughing heartily now and also because it tickled. “I’m on live, look.” She points to her phone that was stuck on the mirror with her grippy case.

Both of their eyes find the phone and see that they were only in the corner of the frame. “Oh my fault.” He lets her go and she thought he was gonna walk clean past the camera but instead he gets all up in it and starts yapping away.

“Waddup family! It’s your boy Main Event Jey U…So!”

All Brianna can do is roll her eyes and giggle. He was always so damn silly and making her laugh; it was how she fell in love with him.

“Let me see how many of ya’ll in here…” He talks to the live, looking at the number of people in the upper corner.

“Damn bae! You got a thousand people on here.” He brought his fist against his mouth, then started reading the comments.

@ slayedandsaved: Is Jey a hockey fan?? 👀

@ wwe_chaos_: I saw you Jey at the game and CM Punk!!

@ vibingvixen: bri i’m so jealous this is your man.

“Aye ‘slayedandsaved’ I been a hockey fan since a couple hours ago.”

“‘wwechaos’ you saw me and Punk huh? Aye, that ice cream was good uce.”

“‘Bri I’m so jealous this is your man’. Yeetttt. Nah, but I’m the lucky one.”

Brianna was now standing next to him, out of frame, getting her last products out of her bag to finish up her routine.

Jey noticed this and snapped back into reality. “You right, you right. My bad baby. Aye but look though. Follow my girl, like, comment, and do all that. Yeet.” He talks with his hands before moving out of the frame, letting Brianna take back over.

“Guest appearance from the man, the myth, the legend guys.” She smiled and looked at him across the hotel room as he was taking off his white Air Forces.

“Okay so after I wash my face, I just use this toner from Fenty. It’s the Fat Water. Ya’ll need to use this because it’s so soothing if you have really sensitive skin.” She screwed the cap off quickly putting it down on the counter and poured some into the palm of her hand, warming it up, before pressing it gently into her skin.

“Bri you ain’t say nothin’ about my jersey!” She heard Jey say from in front of the TV. He was trying to find something to watch while Brianna finished her live.

She stepped backwards to see in the doorway towards his sitting figure on the bed. “I thought it was cute babe!”

“Yea but you ain’t see what’s on the back though.” He stood up and turned his back to her, showcasing the “Uso” above the number. Brianna actually didn’t even see that when he first came back.

“Awww Jey! That’s so cute! You can lowkey say you play for them.” She laughs, her heart beaming at his child-like excitement.

“Well then they need to run me my money.” He sat back down on the bed, attention drawn back to the television.

“Sorry guys I’m back.” She talks to her followers and/or new people in the live. She takes a minute to read what they were commenting.

@ bodyyaddybabe: girl respectfully ur man is FOINEEEE 😍😩

@ usoandbae: does jey ever stop yapping?😂

“No. He yaps 24/7.” She said loud on purpose so he would hear.

“I heard that.”

Bri just giggles, grabbing her moisturizer to show the camera. “Okay so next…wait what did I just do?...Toner! You wanna use moisturizer after. I use the Neutrogena Hydro Boost Water Cream. This one is good for my oily skin because it’s water based.”

She scoops some up with her knuckle and rubs it in evenly on her face.

“After that, I sometimes do a face mask but I already did one earlier so I’m not gonna do another one. I think I’ll do…” She trails off, searching through her bag.

She could never keep up with that little ass bottle.

“Oh my goshhh!” She exclaims in slight frustration. Her allergies made her eyelids puffy and this eye cream she had been using was helping a lot if she used it consistently.

“What you looking for?” She felt Jey’s presence right behind her as she still was looking for the product.

“My eye cream. It’s in that small ass bottle.”

Jey had actually spotted it on the counter but wanted her to suffer a little bit. “Mmcht. And you was talking ‘bout me losing the room key.”

“Joshua.” She looked at him through the phone for a second while he tried to hide his smile with his hand.

He just had one question before he pointed out the eye cream’s location to her overlooking eyes. “After this, can we go get some Waffle House?” He knew she would say yes just to get him to stop talking.

“Yes Joshua.”

He reached around her and picked up the small white plastic bottle, holding it in front of her.

She playfully rolled her eyes and took it from his thick fingers. He just kissed her on the cheek and retreated back to the bed.

“Ya’ll how did he see it before I did?” She rhetorically asks the live while putting one dot under each eye to gently work it in for the cooling effect. She saw a few people ask what brand the eye cream was.

“I got this from my dermatologist. But ya’ll just screenshot and show it to your doctor.” She held it up steady enough for people who wanted it.

“Okay and then I put on my brow and lash serum. I use the one by Grande Cosmetics and it works so fast for me. I’ve heard good reviews for it too.” She brushed the felt tip coated with the product through her brows and lashes, fanning it with her hands to dry.

“And that’s it!” She began to clean up the counter, putting away the products back into her bag and wiping the counter down.

Jey poked his head in and in the frame, all you could see was half of his face in the doorway. Brianna saw how silly he looked.

“Why are you creeping right now?” She laughed, putting the last of her things away.

“You done? Can we go to Waffle House now?” He asks her again.

“Yes babe. I’m hungry too.” She took the Hello Kitty headband out of her straightened hair and ran her fingers through it, taming the flyaways.

“Tell them your order Jey. Ya’ll gotta hear this.” Bri wraps her arms around her man’s waist.

“Bet. Okay I get like 6 eggs with cheese, scrambled. Hashbrowns, you gotta get the triple hashbrowns. Scattered and covered, cmon uce. Then you gotta get waffles if you going to Waffle House, duh. Two of ‘em with the chocolate chips in there. And a lemonade, boom. Maybe I’ll drink a coffee at the end though.”

@usoandbae: SIX MF EGGS??

@vibingvixen: ik his stomach sound like boots in the dryer

@feelinuceyyy__: I’ve never had waffle house but jey makes it sound so good

“Bye they said your stomach be sounding like boots in the dryer.” Brianna laughed at the comment before walking to the closet to grab a hoodie.

“Your boy do be full after though, can’t lie.”

“You ain’t ever had Waffle House?! Where you at uce? Go find the nearest one tonight.”

Brianna had pulled on her grey hoodie that was matching her sweats, and slid her feet in her uggs that Jey has just bought her.

“Okay babe we can go now.” She stood behind him and put her hands up on his shoulders, wanting to get on his back. He squatted down a little so she could jump up on him, securing her legs with his hands.

“Wait walk closer so I can take my phone off the mirror.”

He did and she extended one arm to pull it off with some resistance. Jey was walking around the room with her on his back, having already put his shoes back on, to grab his wallet and car keys.

“Ight, we bouncing.” He says at the door.

“Okay bye guys!! We’re about to go be big backs. I may post pics of the food if I remember. Love ya’ll so much!”

Brianna puts the camera on Jey and he smiles, showing his grills. “Later family. Yeet.”

She ends the live and holds on tight to her man as he locks the door and they both leave, still on his back. She suddenly remembered she didn’t grab her copy of the room key.

“Jey did you get the key card?”

“…Shit.”

taglist!: @4milly @amandairene88 @uceyliyahh @levissslutt @sheaabuttaababyy @punksyeet

[nats-w1fe]

Worse or Even Worse: 3

Natalie Scatorccio x Reader/Shauna Shipman x Reader

Summary: You had all began to accept that you probably weren’t going to be saved and you learn the truth about Shauna and maybe she’s not as perfect as she seemed.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: Past plane crash, toxic relationship, gore, mentions of blood, abuse, violence, mentions of vomit, broken bones., arguing, bad writing and ither things I’ve probably forgotten

Characters included: Reader, Natalie Scatorccio Lottie Mathews, Shauna Shipman, Jackie Taylor, Van Palmer, Taissa Turner and other Yellowjackets.

A/n: I’m still writing drabbles so please give requests!

Worse or Even Worse Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d been in the wilderness for a while. Most of you had accepted that you weren’t going to be saved and it’d be best to just give up. You all learnt how to survive in the wilderness, you adapted. Natalie and Travis become the hunters and everyone else just did what they could to help with things. You wanted to be the one to fetch water, but after the injuries to your leg from the plane crash and the wolf attack it would never be the same again. you could still walk on it but after too long the pain would be too much and it would just give out on you.

Still, you did what you could which mostly consisted of helping Akilah, Lottie and Mari look for berries. Today though, your leg was acting up. it ached more than usual and you were told to stay behind. You were sat on a log outside in front of the fireplace. You looked over at Shauna as she sharpened her knife, you couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t at least a bit attractive doing that.

Jackie sat beside you, rambling about random things as usual. You’d admittedly zoned out a while ago In the conversation. Then you saw Natalie and Travis returning from their hunt. Usually they came back empty handed, but this time they came back holding a large deer. Your eyes widen and you carefully pulled yourself up to your feet, using a makeshift walking stick that Van made for you.

“Holy shit” you muttered.

Coach ben looked over, his eyes widened slightly,

“Nicely done, you two” he complimented, walking over with his crutches. You looked at the deer as they placed it on the ground, it was quite hard to look at,

“It was all Natalie” Travis said, you looked over at them. they way they looked at each other made your stomach churn uncomfortably.

“So, what do we do with it now?” you asked, breaking Natalie and Travis’ attention away from each other.

“First, we have to bleed it out.” he told you all. There was a beat of silence until Shauna stood, and cautiously stepped forward,

“I’ll give it a try” she said, taking her hunting knife out. She knelt down beside the animal and pressed the tip of the blade to the deer’s throat. After a moment she plunged it deeper, deeper than began to draw it straight across. As the animals blood began to spill onto the ground, Shauna felt a thrill she hadn’t ever felt before, she craved more.

You grimaced and looked away from the gory sight,

“Well I think that’s settled” Coach Ben said, “Shauna should be the butcher” everyone nodded in agreement. Shauna shot you a smile and you returned, happy for her but you seriously couldn’t look at that blood.

Later that night, in the glow of the blazing fire Shauna diligently worked on sawing hunks off of one of the deer’s legs which she had sloppily severed and skinned. Meanwhile, around the fire Mari had been cooking the meat while everyone else ate. You sat next to Taissa, not a word had been spoken between anyone, much too focussed on eating. You looked over to Shauna and decided to walk over.

“Hi..” you gave her a gentle smile. She looked at you, pausing, almost as if she were admiring you. it made a faint blush grow on your cheeks,

“Hey you, here to help?” she asked, holding up the bloody knife with a grin. You chuckled and grimaced,

“Oh no no I’ll leave it to the professional” you jokingly insisted, she chuckled too and shook her head. Taking your hand she pulled you closer slightly by her side,

“Come on, give it a try”.

She stood behind you, her front pressed against your back as she carefully guided your movements. You cut into the deer’s leg and made a noise of disgust; she chuckled and you only then realised how close she was to you. Her warm breath fanned against your neck,

“There you go, see you’re actually alright at it” she muttered into your ear. You were more than grateful it was dark out and Shauna couldn’t see how red your face had become.

Natalie glanced over at you two. Her jaw clenched and her grip on her tray of food tightened. She placed her tray down, suddenly put off of her food. She stood, walking off as she couldn’t look at the sight of you and Shauna any longer. Jackie noticed and quickly walked after her.

“Hey! Hold up” she called out to her. Natalie groaned and turned to her,

“What?” she asked.

“Y’know you cant be annoyed at Y/n for finally moving on” when Natalie scoffed in response, Jackie continued “You treated her like shit and she deserves so much more than an alcoholic druggy who probably cheated on her any chance she got” Jackie told her, crossing her arms over her chest. You had told her everything that happened between you and Natalie, it took a lot of persuading to convince Jackie not to slap the shit out of her.

“You’re right, she did deserve better…but I never cheated on her, okay?” Natalie said. It was true, she would’ve never done that to you,

“Well you used her! If you know she deserved better why didn’t you treat her better then?”

Natalie sighed and pulled Jackie further away from everyone just to be sure you wouldn’t hear

“I didn’t use her, I lied…okay you’re right, she does deserve better because I am a druggy and I am an alcoholic and I’m a fucking mess, and she is just…” Natalie sighed, looking over at you and Shauna. You were giggling and just looked so happy, it made her heart ache, “She deserves so much better than me, if Shauna makes her happy then that’s all I want for her” she explained simply, looking down at the ground. Jackie softened slightly,

“Oh…you really like my sister then huh?” she asked, unfolding her arms and dropping them to her side.

Natalie nodded,

“I think I love her, but I don’t know how be in a proper relationship, I’m not good at it…Y/n deserves better than me so I had to let her go, its best if she just thinks I was just using her” Jackie couldn’t think of what to say, so without a word she turned on her heels and walked off, running a hand through her hair.

--

You sat next to Shauna on the floor, leaning against her with your head resting on her shoulder. Music started playing, “this is how we do it” came from the Walkman. You chuckled and watched as a few of the gurls launched into a choreographed dance number, elaborate enough you could tell they’d been working on this for weeks. Mari, Akilah, Lottie and Van came in doing the running man while quite literally chanting the words ‘running man’. You giggled, then Shauna suddenly stood up and joined Taissa, Natalie and some others as they did the Bart Simpson dance move.

“And Javi... and-- Javi, you're late!” Mari exclaimed, Javi hurried to get on beat and Taissa jumped in the help. They all re-synchronized and everyone cheered. Suddenly the tape began to struggle, the song creepily slowly and distorting into an eerie dirge before stopping completely. Everyone stopped. Van walked over, giving the Walkman a few hopeful smacks,

“Has hitting something ever fixed it?” she asked to no avail, everyone walked over to try give their assistance,

“Maybe try blowing on it?” you offered, still sat down.

Before anyone could reply they all heard a distinct, sustained scrapping noise from the attic. You looked up at the attic in fear.

“Um. The fuck is that?” Jackie asked, everyone paused and stared up at the ceiling. You carefully stood and walked closer to Shauna.

“...You hear it, too?” Lottie asked, seemingly very surprised. Everyone looked at her, quite confused. You held onto Shauna’s hand.

“It's probably just a branch” Taissa casually remarked, trying to ease the tension.

“Inside? On the floor?” Mari asked, she paused. Everyone seemed to tense at that slightly, “What if it's him?” she suddenly asked.

“What, the dead guy?” Shauna then questioned. You tensed once again. Ghosts weren’t real, right?

“Um, yeah” Mari responded, as if it were obvious. Taissa snorted defensively. Then Natalie spoke up, in a deadpan voice,

“You know what it probably was? The dead guy's missing fingers... trying to find their way home” she teased. A few of the girls squealed, including you as you clutched onto Shauna’s arm. Taissa shot Natalie a glare, “You really have to encourage them?”

Akilah then said to Taissa,

“You gotta admit, it didn’t sound like it was on the roof” she said, sounding extremely nervous just like the rest of you. Jackie joined in,

“Fine, so it was a rat, or a racoon…or I dunno-“ she was cut off when Lottie called out,

“Shhhh! Listen!”

Everyone paused, straining to hear, but there was only silence.

“Well I don’t hear it now” Mari said which a shrug and others agreed. Before the debate could resume Coach Scott spoke up,

“You know what I think? I think the ghost decided it's time to get some sleep. We should do the same” he said. Thus concluding another evening of the forever slumber.

You changed into your pyjamas, pulling your shirt over your head you caught Shauna staring at you. You blushed, expecting her to look away, but she didn’t. you looked down at the ground as you changed, feeling her eyes on you the whole time.

--

That morning was your least favourite. You woke up to your period. In fact everyone had their period. You’d all synced. Luckily for you, you didn’t get cramps. But you did get a very heavy flow. You sat outside, eating your breakfast. You looked over as the cabin door opened and Jackie walked out. Van and Laura Lee hung laundry together while Taissa chopped wood nearby. Other girls stacked chopped wood by the cabin and swept the porch. Akilah was rolling torn-up shirts into makeshift pads. Right by her were two heavy pots, simmering over the fire.

Jackie made her way over to the breakfast pot till Mari intercepted her, shoving an empty bucket into her hands,

“How about getting some more water? Breakfast isn’t going anywhere” Jacke shot her a glare before walking off.

After a bit Jackie came back holding a the heavy, sloshing bucket, clearly struggling. As awkward as it was, it was not hard to feel like she was being extra dramatic as she set it down to rest. Taissa and Van both shared an eyeroll at the sight. Catching the look, Shauna made her way to Jackie,

“Need a hand?” she asked her.

“No, I can do it…Why are you so chipper? Or don't you have a blood sacrifice between your legs like the rest of us?” When Jackie noticed Shauna hesitate she then asked, “Hang on... do you not?”

“I'm... late this month. I mean, we were in a plane crash, so it's probably just stress.” Shauna responded, shrugging it off,

“Lucky you're a virgin or we'd really have to worry...speaking of…what’s going on between you and Y/n?” she asked. Shauna looked over at where you were sat.

“Dunno yet…I like her though; I think she might like me too” she said hopefully, Jackie hesitated. She knew Shauna had a crush on you for a while. The way she looked at you was far from friendly, she even noticed how she would look at you when you got changed. It made her uncomfortable, she didn’t know why but she never confronted Shauna about it.

“Right, well you know just be gentle with her, she only recently got out of a relationship not too long ago” Jackie told her, placing the bucket back down. Shauna nodded and picked it up for her,

“I know, I wont hurt her Jackie” was all she said before she walked off. Something deep inside Jackie just made her feel so unsure about this, something felt off.

Shauna went to cut up some more of the deer, she stood by her bench, taking her knife out. She then looked over at you, you were already looking at her. You smiled and gave her a sheepish wave. She waved her hand, beckoning you over. Carefully, you stood up, walking over to her with a slight limp.

She smiled at you,

“Hey, I wanna give you something” she told you; you looked slightly confused but kept your smile on your face,

“Okay…what is it?” you asked, she put her hands on your hips and gently turned you around so that your back was to her. a small blush lingered on your cheeks as she put a necklace around your neck. You looked down at it and recognised it as Jackie’s heart necklace. You smiled and looked at her, “I thought Jackie gave this to you?” you asked her. She shrugged with a small smirk,

“And now I’ve given it to you…you wanna give me something in return?” she asked. Your brows furrowed slightly in confusion, but when her eyes flicked to your lips you realised what you meant. With slight hesitancy you leaned in, connecting your lips with hers. It was a quick kiss but gentle.

Shauna grinned as you pulled away,

“Now that, I’ll cherish” she teased. You couldn’t help the giggle that fell from your lips,

“Good” you grinned, scrunching your nose up. She found that adorable, which made her question that deep, burning sensation, that sensation that was so deep down and rooted into her soul. She wanted to ruin that smile. Ever since she pushed the blade into the deer for the first time she had a thirst for blood. Your blood. Your tears. Your pain. She craved it.

Natalie watched from afar. A sick feeling rose in her throat and she felt like she could strangle someone, Shauna to be specific. She didn’t deserve you; you were too perfect for Shauna. Those lips didn’t deserve to touch anyone, not Natalie and certainly not Shauna. When you turned your head you caught Natalie’s eye. She snapped her head away, continuing on with her current task. That stung. You knew you weren’t over Natalie, you didn’t know if you ever could be. But you did honestly think you had feelings for Shauna, she was always there for you, she looked after you, she understood you and It helped she was attractive.

Natalie then felt a tap on her shoulder, she looked and saw Lottie holding the bucket,

“Hey, wanna come get some water with me?” she asked, with a sweet smile. Natalie couldn’t help but smile back, she nodded,

“Sure, but didn’t Jackie grab water not too long ago?” she asked, furrowing her brows slightly as they began to walk.

“Yeah but with washing all the pads, we’ve already run out” Lottie chuckled.

They went to the lake; Natalie carefully dipped the bucket in and picked some water out. Lottie stared at her the whole time. Just as Natalie turned to talk to Lottie, the brunette crashed her lips against Nat’s, kissing her. She was clearly not experienced, but she wasn’t terrible. Natalie didn’t pull away for a second, till she did.

“Lottie I- I can’t” she dropped the bucket and quickly walked off, leaving the brunette alone at the lake.

--

It had been a few more weeks. Food was growing slim again and more than anything you wanted a good, well-cooked steak. Things with you and Shauna had been going well. She was so kind to you, so gentle. You weren’t officially together, but you sure acted as such. She always called you nicknames, things like ‘doll’ and ‘babe.’ You did notice Shauna acting quite weird though, she disappeared earlier with Taissa and you had noticed something is changing in her appearance, but you couldn’t figure out what is was.

You were sat with Shauna, leaning against her when Natalie and Travis emerged from the forest, holding a dead deer. You grimaced at the sight of it, its antlers were coated in blood and flesh, everyone cheered,

“Whoa. That thing is gnarly” Van said, “It's like--Freddy Krueger and Bambi had a baby” she commented, making a few laugh.

“I'm not eating that” you said, grimacing at the sight. Shauna took her hunting knife out her pocket and stood.

“Guys, deer shed their antlers seasonally. This is all normal.” Coach Ben insists, he then looks at Shauna, “You want to do the honours?” Shauna walked to the deer, crouching down as she cut into its belly. A chorus of disgust followed at the sight of the inside of the deer, it was infested with parasitic worms. Completely inedible. You couldn’t see from where you were standing, you went to go look.

Natalie noticed this, she knew how sensitive you were to things like that and you’d throw up at the sight. Out of instinct, she quickly stepped in front of you, gently grabbing your wrist to stop you from going over,

“Don’t” she said, her voice gentle. You were taken aback slightly by the sudden action and froze for a moment before pulling your wrist away harshly and sitting back down. Shauna watched the interaction, her jaw clenched.

“That normal too, Coach?” Jackie asked, Ben looked as grossed out as the others. You heard Taissa scoff,

“We can't do this anymore, you guys! What happens when winter gets here? We starve to death? Freeze?” she questioned, looking around at her troubled faces of her teammates. All except for Lottie who continued to stare at the deer. “We can't count on getting rescued anymore-- we all know that is not gonna happen. We have to save us. That's why I'm gonna go find help.” Some of the girls seemed shocked, while others, along with you seemed on board. “I'm leaving in the morning. Come with

me if you want to get out of this fucking hellhole.” Was all she said before turning back to the cabin

Anxious murmurs aroused as she left. You stared at the floor, Tai was right, you couldn’t wait here any long to be saved. This could be the only way home.

--

Taissa stood opposite the rest of the Yellowjackets around the campfire. She scanned their faces, looking for hints of dissent,

“Everyone?” she asked, Jackie spoke first,

“Some of us think there aren’t any good ideas”.

“Well, we have to do something. We're starving. There's nothing to hunt. And it might still be warm enough during the day, but it's starting to get cold at night...” Taissa explained to everyone, you knew you were already on board with going,

“The animals must be migrating.” Misty said, gasping in realisation.

“That's probably why the only game we've seen for weeks was the one sick deer. And it's just gonna keep getting colder. Not 'I-better-put-on coat cold.' We're talking 'dying-feels-like-falling-asleep cold’” you shifted uncomfortably, leaning more into Shauna who put a comforting arm around you. You decided to just block out what they were saying, choosing to instead stare down at the dirt.

But as they spoke, Taissa’s words pulled you out of your zone,

“Anyone who wants to come with me is welcome. But I'm going.” She said, grabbing her bag off of the floor,

“I’m coming” you said, everyone seemed surprised by this. At the same time, Natalie, Jackie and Shauna all spoke up in unison,

“What?” you looked at them and shrugged.

“You’re not going” Shauna said, the way she said it was as if there was no room for argument. Like she had control over what you did,

“Listen, if I'm wrong, I'll die out there” she paused, “I'm leaving in an hour.” Was all Tai said before pushing through the crowd and walking off.

You looked at Shauna,

“I’m going” you then looked at Jackie, “I want to actually help for once, so I’m going” you stood up with a bit of a limp. Jackie scoffed,

“Y/n you can barely walk, you’re not going and that’s final” you then scoffed too,

“You cant fucking control me Jackie” you stormed off in a random direction.

Natalie sighed and looked at Shauna. She couldn’t help the way her eyes widened slightly. Shauna looked fucking furious, like she was going to explode. She clenched her fists and got up, going after you. Immediately Nat felt unsettled, she got up to go after her but Jackie held her arm,

“Just leave her” she clearly didn’t see Shauna’s state.

You stumbled slightly as you walked, your leg ached. You then suddenly tripped, hitting the floor with a grunt. Shauna came up behind you,

“Are you fucking stupid?” she asked, your brows furrowed. Struggling, you pulled yourself back up to your feet, “Excuse me?”

“You’re basically fucking crippled Y/n, you’re not going so stop being a brat” she spat, the words stung to hear from Shauna, someone who was usually so kind to you,

“Fuck you Shauna” you went to walk past her till you felt a harsh hit to your face then a shove. You landed back on the floor with a small cry of pain,

“Don’t talk to me like that you little bitch..”

You looked up at her in pure fear and surprised, nobody had ever laid a hand on you like that.

“You’re a psychopath!” you yelled at her. Without hesitating another second she quickly got on top of you, you yelled and tried to squirm away. she slapped her hand over your mouth, you bit down on her hand. she pulled her hand away and slapped you hard across the face. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to push her away, “Get off of me!” you yelled to her, hoping someone would here.

You then felt her hands around your throat, you gasped as she started to squeezed. You slapped at her hands, trying to push them away. It wasn’t working. The harder she squeezed the weaker you felt, you didn’t know if you could fight back anymore. Just as you were on the brink of passing out she let go and got up. you gasped out, taking in as much air as you could. Choking, you sobbed loudly. But you weren’t as loud as you were when she suddenly brought her foot down on your ankle, on your bad leg. You screamed in pure agony. You were sure the others could hear.

Quickly Shauna crouched by your side and held your body In her arms, you tried to squirm away but then suddenly felt her hunting knife to your back,

“Shhh baby…don’t move, be a good girl” you whimpered quietly, “You’re not going to tell the others about this, you fell and hurt your leg real bad…and I helped you, hm?” she told you. she ran a hand through your hair, the soothing action calmed you down slightly. You sniffled and gave a small nod,

“O-Okay..”

Jackie sprinted over, followed by Tai, Van, Lottie, Mari, and Misty. They looked at you in shock, then Natalie appeared, holding her rifle as if she thought you were being attacked. You buried your face in Shauna’s shirt, not being able to look at the others.

“What happened?” Jackie asked, rushing to your side,

“I think she fell” Shauna lied, very well too, “She’s hurt her ankle really badly”.

“Were you not with her? You went straight after her so you couldn’t have been far” Natalie speculated, she knew Shauna was lying. It pained her, she knew Shauna hurt you but there was nothing she could do about it,

“What are you insinuating?” Shauna scoffed.

“That doesn’t matter, we need to get her back to camp so we can help her” Misty said, Shauna picked you up in her arms and carefully carried you back to camp. Natalie glanced at you every now and then, checking your condition. Her brows furrowed when she noticed odd marks on your neck, they appeared to look like red lines, handprints. Out of anyone, Natalie would be the one to recognise that.

[more-mara]

Hi I don't know if you take requests but I'm genuinely so thirsty for a c²/oscar fic doesn't matter if it's nsfw I really just need one 😭😭😭🙏

I’ve actually written a Charles/Carlos/Oscar threesome already which you can find on my AO3 which is linked on my profile (shameless self promo) I’m just too lazy to link it here lmao.

But here’s a small thing set after the Jeddah gp.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

Charles had the audacity to look scandalised as he pulled away from Oscar, his gaze zeroing in on Carlos who was standing smugly behind them.

“He wants it,” Charles said with a scoff as he pulled Oscar closer by his waist, the younger man being manhandled easily as he managed to catch his own hands into the front of Charles’ shirt.

“I’m sure he does,” Carlos muttered which had Oscar turning briefly to offer him his best scowl before turning back to Charles with a soppy look of need.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, mon chéri,” Charles said, a smirk flashing across his face as he let his hands drift down to grope at Oscar’s ass.

Oscar gasped quietly, burying his head in Charles’ neck- suckling at the skin there to keep himself occupied.

“It’s a little pathetic,” Carlos spoke, stepping a little closer. Oscar just whined this time- no look of distain or disapproval on his face.

“That he won the race and yet here he is begging to be used,” Carlos continued, taking a further step forward. Oscar whimpered again, hands clutching even tighter in the front of Charles’ red Ferrari polo.

Sometimes, Carlos couldn’t even look at Charles in his team kit without feeling a sudden surge of…something. It wasn’t exactly jealousy, just sadness maybe- thinking about what could’ve been. How four years of being teammates with a man he’d spent so much intimate time with was ending so suddenly.

“I must thank your trainer for this,” Carlos said before crowding up behind Oscar and grabbing a fistful of his ass. Oscar lunched forward into Charles, gasping loudly.

“Come on,” Oscar whined, his body shaking as he tilted his head up to look at Charles- eyes wide and pleading.

“This what you want?” Charles asked as he slipped his hand underneath Oscar’s clothes, his finger dipped between Oscar’s cheeks. Oscar nodded violently- cheeks flushed and cock straining in his underwear.

Carlos pushed himself a little closer, trying to block them off a little more from the outside world.

Because that was the thing- they were still in the paddock, hidden between two large buildings. They were lucky that it was night time.

“Why are you wet?” Charles asked, pushing his finger into Oscar. He knew the answer, he just wanted to hear Oscar say it.

Oscar bit his bottom lip, cheeks still flushed a beautiful shade of pink as he blinked up at Charles.

“Fingered myself after the podium,” He whispered as Carlos leaned in towards his neck, licking a strip up behind his ear.

“Good boy,” Carlos said, his hands planting onto Oscar’s hips as Charles continued to work his finger inside Oscar’s hole.

Oscar let out a breathless moan, leaning back into Carlos’ chest. Charles protested this as he slipped another finger inside.

“When you two are done defacing my teammate, I need him for a debrief,”

Oscar’s eyes widened in disbelief at the voice- hiding his face in Charles’ chest. Carlos and Charles both looked stunned, bodies frozen in place.

“Lando- we-“

“Don’t bother, I have eyes, mate. I can see what you’re up to. Just get Oscar to me ASAP, yeah?” Lando said and before anyone could explain themselves any further, he was gone.

“I gotta-“

“Hold on cariño, you’re not going anywhere until we’re done with you,” Carlos said, hands starting to pull Oscar’s pants and underwear down.

“But Lando said-“

“Does Lando decide what you can and can’t do?” Charles asked, fingers still buried inside Oscar- he shifted them slightly to make a point, Oscar’s face scrunching up at the stimulation.

“No…”

“Then be a good boy and bend over,”

[biancadoes1]

Ok dust is settling and I’ve taken the time to really just sit back and take it all in…

After doing so and having been a fan and shipper of L&N for the past year I’ve decided to finally take a good step back and take an extended break for awhile. Rather than ride the roller coaster and buy into this ridiculous narrative (that quite frankly is weird, childish, confusing and somewhat taking the piss out of the fandom toying with emotions and those invested in what was shown consistently for 5+ months).

Every photo, outing, public facing story just makes me nauseous 🤢 MAJOR ick factor. The age gaps, being the two younger partners are not as far along in their careers, both seem immature (in trolling) it just a bad look towards two talented actors imo… ok if people disagree but it’s just how I feel after following every bit of information and opinions over months.

I feel really sad for L&N for two main reasons

1. If in fact they are together behind the scenes…I think the excitement and build up has been lost. The real steadfast Lukola fans have lost trust and no longer take any of what they see seriously…it’s all just treated as a joke.

2. If they are not together…well I guess one or both just doesn’t feel the natural chemistry, mate ship, attraction is enough right now to build upon…great shame from what we all see but is what it is.

End of the day whatever the outcome and however things progress over the coming year and beyond (maybe till season 4 is released) it can play out without my time and emotional investment.

The enjoyment is no longer there…it’s no longer fun. All the in-house nasty comments back and forth, a divided fandom, new ships of not two actors but one with an adjacent is a joke. Who can be bothered any more…

I ended up unfollowing Nicola only because I feel what she puts out (speeches, interviews, causes) just no longer line up with her actions. I think many admired her for wanting to stand in her own light, celebrate her accomplishments and encourage those who like her should never give up despite how long you’ve been working at it. Now…well now it’s all about a 24yr old upcoming actor who is in the spotlight and she seems to be ok in allowing it to become about a relationship rather than her career. I could never imagine her pursuing Luke post WT because of that very reason of not wanting to make their season about a personal relationship…so I guess JD must be pretty damn special.

Anyway good luck to both N&L I sure hope they are happy with their current choices and continue to have success in pursuing their acting endeavours.

Thank you B for the laughs! Your comments to especially the stupid are the best!

Thank you anon ❤️

[princessaffirms]

why are you DEFENDING your limiting beliefs? 🪿✨

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

no but really. why are you defending your limitations so hard?

i’m gonna hold your hand when i say this…but if most of your thoughts are still sounding like:

“i can’t do that”

“that’s just how it is for me”

“i’ve always struggled with that”

“my situation is different though”

“i’m trying but nothing works for me”

“it’s too unrealistic”

“it only works for other people”

you are literally CHOOSING to be stuck right now. :”) 🤍

here’s the thing:

if you argue for your limitations, you get to keep them.

your SUBCONSCIOUS DOESN’T CARE if it’s a “positive” belief or a “limiting” one. it just stores what’s repeated, what’s emotional, what feels like truth.

so when you keep repeating that story of lack, unworthiness, or struggle, guess what your 3D is gonna do? mirror it right back. not because it’s punishing you, but because it literally thinks that’s what you want to be true.

BUT GUESS WHAT? 🤭

you don’t have to PROVE your limiting beliefs wrong.

you just have to stop defending them like they’re relevant.

because they’re not anymore. why are you spending your time and energy fighting for a story that you don’t want? you can’t step into your new reality if you’re still gripping onto the old one like it’s still your identity.

let the limiting beliefs go. drop the old story. and you don’t necessarily need some big rebuttal or a whole healing arc to justify having the life you want.

you just have to choose again.

start affirming from the version of you who already got what they came for.

you are NOT here to protect your limitations. you are here to break them.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

QUICK AFFIRMATIONS to help release limiting beliefs:

i let go of every belief that no longer serves me

i do not identify with struggle anymore

i’m allowed to believe new things about myself now

i am no longer available for anything less than the best

i do not resonate with anything that doesn’t align with my desires

i embody the version of me who knows they’re limitless

i take back my power unapologetically, because this is MY reality, and only i get to decide how it plays out.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

i hope this post helped! 🫶

much love and light always <3

[just-a-sweet-girl]

Hi! Can I have maybe a head canons or scenarios request for Dante (DMC 5 and Netflix version) with a fem s/o who's loyal towards him and very caring towards him.

As if the reader would do everything they can to make him happy and show how they love him or cared for him. What would both versions react about this?

I don't just write for Dante, yall can send in requests of Vergil, or V or Nero >3

Thank you for this, it's so cuuuute

DMC5 Dante absolutely loves it.

♡ His s/o is a morning person. Always up before him unless he hadn't went to sleep in the first place, or he makes her sleep in with him. She'll show her love to him with acts of kindness.

♡ Keeping the place clean is one of them. Dante knows not to dirty something reader has cleaned unless he wants to be the one to reclean it. One time, he had to mop the whole place from stepping in with mud.

♡ By the end of that day, the two of you were dancing to the music you had playing to help motivate him. The floor didn't get clean, but that was okay. A memory with Dante that's filled with smiles and laughter, shared kisses... that meant more.

♡ Definitely has a habit of showering him with kisses on the daily. Doesn't matter what he is doing - as long as their are safe - she'll walk up to him, cup his scruffy face in her hands and pepper kisses all over his face. Each time saying something so tooth rotting sweet.

"handsome," kiss "strong" kiss "you always do such a good job" kiss "I love you."

♡ Surprises him with strawberry sundaes. And most of you money goes to pizza - but that's fine. You're not the one in debt.

♡ What really gets him is when he's noticed how nothings went out yet. Electricity, his water, it's all still on even though he knows he hasn't paid it in months. Tries to ask Morrison about it, but all he gets is, "You have someone who cares, Dante."

♡ Shaving. He doesn't do it often, since how fast it grows back. But when he does shave - you're more than happy to do it for him. Settling upon his lap with the cutest expression of focus as she is careful with shaving him. When done, she can't help but to rub her check with his affectionately. Reminding him of a cat.

♡ You practically do everything for him, it's how you show your love. But don't get it wrong, Dante tries his best to show you that kind of love in return. Except, his comes in the way he practically worships you.

2025 Dante doesn't feel like he deserves it.

♡ His S/0 is someone he's known for a long time. Having started out as friends until he decided he would try. Just for her. He's scared to become attached to anyone, and this shows whenever he subconsciously pulls away from you.

♡ You're patient though. And with every action you do, you make sure to poor every ounce of care and love into it. Making him know he is truly loved.

♡ Not a hunter, but you're not defenseless. For from it. When his s/o has discovered what he does, she spent the whole night learning what she could from him. Every now and then, you'll try to sneak up on him, but he always knows it's you.

His hands automatically gripped beneath your thighs when you jumped on his back. Hands covering over his eyes as you tried to change your voice, failing. "I'm robbing you!"

The silliest grin appears on his face. "Oh, yeah? What're you taking then, pretty?"

You groan, before smiling. Removing your hands and leaning more over his shoulder. Hands cupping his face. You declare, "You're heart!" before kissing him.

♡ He appreciates your loyalty. He see's it in how you reject any other man who wished to be with you. In how you stay by his side no matter the dangers. even when he's having a difficult day and say's something he shouldn't have.

♡ You love him in the way you would start a warm bath or shower whenever he returns home a completely mess. In how you join him and wash the gunk from his hair. And he feels it when you hold him at night. Fingers running through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. In how you whisper, "I love you..." In such a soft, sweet whisper.

♡ Dante doesn't like caring. Always makes it a point not to. When in reality, he cares the most. And even though it is still difficult for him to voice or show this, he tries his damn hardest. Just for you.

[theodorenmyth]

hey!

could i please request a fic where theodore's sibling is dating mattheo and they want it to be a secret, but then everyone ends up finding out and they think theo's going to be angry/overprotective but he's really chill? and the pair are confused and a little offended by how unbothered he is?

i love reading your comedy fics because they always make me laugh!!

Secret Relationship

pairings ; Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

summary ; You and Mattheo Riddle secretly date behind your brother aka Theodore’s back, fearing his reaction. But when everyone finds out, Theodore is shockingly chill — leaving your chaotic friend group furious and dramatically disappointed by the lack of sibling rage.

A/N ; it's been so long since I uploaded 😭😭😭😭😭 I missed u all sm, AND ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I WROTE A MATTHEO FIC HELLO?! I've been on a Theodore streak I swear 😭 pls enjoy this comedic mess

Warnings ; none, just pure chaos

Word count ; 4.1k+

The night air curled around you in thin, biting tendrils, the wind sweeping through the Astronomy Tower and chilling your fingers where they gripped the stone ledge. The tower loomed above the castle, far removed from the warm flicker of torches and the comfortable murmur of the common rooms. Up here, the world felt suspended—like time had stopped and the stars were the only witnesses to your terrible, beautiful secret.

You were absolutely not supposed to be here.

"You’re shivering."

The voice, smooth and low, cut through the silence. You didn’t even need to look—you’d recognize that voice in your sleep. Mattheo Riddle stepped forward from the shadows with that familiar slouch, half-hooded eyes glinting with mischief and something gentler he’d never admit to. His black coat hung loosely from his shoulders, already halfway off as he reached out and draped it over yours.

The weight of it was immediate—warm, worn, and unmistakably his. It smelled like firewood, mint, and danger. A combination you had no business enjoying as much as you did.

"I'm not cold," you muttered, hugging the coat tighter around yourself despite the denial.

Mattheo arched a brow, unimpressed. "You're a terrible liar."

"No, I’m not."

"Yes, you are," he insisted, stepping closer, his grin growing with every step. "You always do that thing with your nose when you lie."

You blinked. “What thing?”

"That—" He pointed at you with a smirk as your nose instinctively scrunched. "Exactly that."

Your scowl deepened. “You’re infuriating.”

“I’ve been told.”

“And yet, here I am.”

He was fully in front of you now, close enough to steal your breath if you let him. His fingers grazed your waist like a question, an invitation. One you never could refuse.

"You could’ve stayed in bed like a reasonable person," he teased, voice dipped in velvet. "Instead, you came all the way up here just to see me."

"Don't flatter yourself," you muttered.

But he knew better.

And so did you.

Mattheo leaned in, his lips brushing yours, barely touching—just enough to set your nerves alight. "Say it."

"Say what?" you breathed, feigning innocence.

"That you missed me."

"I didn’t."

"Liar," he whispered against your mouth, and then he kissed you.

The world fell away.

His mouth on yours was rough and unrelenting, like he had waited too long and thought too much and wanted to erase the time you’d spent apart. You kissed him back with equal fervor, clutching his collar as if to tether yourself to the moment. The cold didn’t matter. The risk didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way his hands roamed your sides like he couldn’t decide where to hold you, like he wanted to touch everything at once.

He was infuriating and impulsive and impossible—but gods, he was yours.

Eventually, you pulled away, lips tingling and lungs begging for breath. He rested his forehead against yours, his grip on your waist still firm, possessive.

"This is reckless," you whispered, eyes half-lidded and drunk on him.

Mattheo didn’t even blink. "Reckless is snogging your best mate’s sibling in the Astronomy Tower at one in the morning while the entire school sleeps."

You groaned and thumped your head against his shoulder. "Don’t remind me."

"Just saying. We’ve already passed the point of no return, haven’t we?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you watched the stars—millions of them, quiet and distant and probably laughing at the mess you’d made of yourself. You should’ve stopped this weeks ago. You’d tried to stop. But Mattheo always had this way of pulling you back in, like gravity.

"This is insane," you murmured.

"Mm," he agreed. "And I love it."

You tilted your head to look at him. "You would."

Mattheo smiled, that crooked, charming sort of smile that spelled nothing but trouble. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that contradicted everything he usually projected.

"I like you like this," he said suddenly.

"Like what?"

"Defiant. Warm. Close." His voice dropped. "Mine."

Your breath hitched.

You hated how easily he could unravel you.

“You know my brother would murder you,” you said, only half-joking.

Mattheo’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah, well. That’s why he doesn’t know.”

“And if he finds out?”

His eyes darkened—not in fear, but in resolve. "Then we deal with it. Together."

Something in your chest tightened painfully. Mattheo Riddle was not known for making promises, but when he did, they meant something.

You tried to play it off, to lighten the moment. "Very noble of you. Might even make you look brave."

"I'm always brave," he deadpanned.

You laughed despite yourself and leaned up to kiss him again—softer this time, slower. Like a lullaby in the middle of a war.

Another set of footsteps—distant but undeniable—snapped you both out of it. Mattheo jerked away instantly, eyes sharp, scanning the stairwell below.

Your stomach dropped as you ducked behind one of the stone columns, barely breathing.

Please not a professor. Please not a prefect. Please not—

Silence.

The footsteps faded.

Mattheo let out a slow exhale. "That was way too close."

You nodded, pressing a hand over your pounding heart. “We need to stop doing this in public places.”

"Then invite me to your dorm."

"Absolutely not."

"The library?"

"Too exposed."

"Empty classroom?"

"Too cliché."

"Room of Requirement?"

You paused. "...Too convenient."

He gave a low laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Mattheo leaned forward and kissed your cheek, just above your jaw. “Tomorrow night?”

You hesitated. You should say no. You meant to say no.

“…Fine. But somewhere safer.”

"Deal."

He squeezed your hand once before retreating back down the stairs with the grace of someone who’d done this a dozen times and would do it a dozen more.

You stayed a moment longer, the weight of his coat still wrapped around your shoulders and the ghost of his lips still on your mouth. The stars blinked silently overhead, their light cool and unjudging. You exhaled and turned to go, already thinking about tomorrow—and all the chaos it might bring.

You were in too deep.

And you didn’t care.

Rain was pouring against the windows like the sky itself was throwing a tantrum, Hogwarts cloaked in that damp, miserable grey that made everyone collectively more dramatic than usual. You trudged into the Great Hall, dragging your feet like a ghost of your former, snogged-out self. You spotted your friends instantly—because they were loud, nosy, and sitting in their usual spot, plotting world domination over croissants and coffee.

You slid into your seat next to Blaise with the elegance of a sleep-deprived troll and immediately reached for a slice of toast, praying today would be normal. No scandal. No drama. No accidental references to someone’s pine-scented hair or stupid smirking face or warm hands on your—

Mattheo Riddle plopped himself directly beside you.

Your toast froze mid-air.

“Oh, excellent,” he said, sounding obscenely cheerful for someone who hadn’t brushed his curls. “You got the good jam.”

He reached across your plate like a heathen and scooped up a glob of raspberry jam with his butter knife, smearing it messily on your toast like he was helping.

“I was going to eat that,” you deadpanned.

“And now you are, but with flavor,” he replied, looking far too pleased with himself.

Across the table, Lorenzo choked on his tea. Draco froze mid-butter-spread. Blaise leaned back slowly with a suspicious grin. Pansy squinted like she was trying to read the entire history of your existence from the look on your face. Astoria didn’t even look up—she just let out the most disappointed sigh in the history of human breathing.

You, a rational and responsible person, did the obvious thing.

You pretended absolutely nothing was happening.

Mattheo, who was clearly born to make everything worse, leaned in. “Are you going to eat that, or are you going to keep staring at me like you’re in love?”

You dropped your toast. Draco visibly gasped. Blaise bit his knuckle.

“Okay,” Lorenzo said slowly, dramatically. “I think we all need to pause and—what the hell is going on here?”

“Nothing,” you and Mattheo said in perfect harmony.

A collective suspicious silence fell over the group.

Pansy narrowed her eyes. “You’re sitting suspiciously close to each other.”

“Coincidence,” you said.

“He stole your toast.”

“Generous community breakfasting,” Mattheo supplied.

“You’re blushing,” Draco noted, pointing a butter knife at your face.

“It’s warm in here,” you snapped. “There’s body heat. Circulation. Weather.”

“You’re playing footsie,” Blaise added smugly.

“We are absolutely not playing footsie,” Mattheo said, jerking his leg away from yours so fast he kneed the underside of the table and nearly knocked over the entire jug of pumpkin juice.

“Okay,” Lorenzo muttered. “If this isn’t a secret relationship, then I am the ghost of Salazar Slytherin, here to reclaim his house from the deranged couple defiling it.”

You tried to glare. Really, you did. But Mattheo had crumbs on his lip, and his eyes were doing that annoyingly attractive sparkle thing, and your face betrayed you by melting.

“OH MY GOD,” Pansy screamed. “YOU’RE LITERALLY SO IN LOVE.”

“I am in denial,” you barked. “Which is very different.”

Blaise laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench. “So, just to confirm—are you or are you not snogging this absolute chaos goblin in secret?”

“We’re not snogging,” Mattheo said quickly. “Why would we snog? Snogging is for people with… lips.”

“You have lips,” Draco said flatly.

“Debatable,” Mattheo replied, before turning to you with pleading eyes. “Help me.”

“Everyone is being very dramatic,” you announced. “Mattheo and I are friends. Acquaintances. Mortal enemies with occasional group project chemistry.”

“You left the Potions lab last Thursday with your tie undone and a hickey on your neck,” Astoria said without looking up.

“It was a mosquito! ” Mattheo cried. “They were everywhere.”

“In the Potions lab?” Blaise asked, blinking.

“...Yes,” you said weakly. “It was.. uhm.. infested.”

Pansy slammed her hands on the table. “HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?”

“Five minutes,” you blurted. “No time at all. We’re still in the test trial phase.”

“Two months,” Mattheo mumbled at the same time.

You turned to him slowly, eyes wide. “What happened to denying everything?”

“I panicked!” he whispered. “You’re really bad at lying and it’s contagious!”

“Oh my god, it’s been TWO MONTHS?” Draco’s voice cracked like a choirboy’s. “And you didn’t tell us? We could’ve made popcorn!”

“I’m going to cry,” Pansy announced. “I feel betrayed. Emotionally compromised. Romantically offended.”

“You literally told me yesterday to snog someone or die lonely,” you muttered.

“I didn’t mean him! ”

Mattheo raised a hand. “Okay, now that’s just rude.”

“I SWEAR,” Pansy continued, “if Theodore finds out and kills you, I am not attending your funeral unless there’s drama and vengeance.”

You blinked. “Okay, but—what if he just doesn’t… find out?”

The table went still.

Pansy looked like she was about to burst into flames. “Okay. Someone get Theodore. He deserves to know that his sibling is dating—dating—Mattheo ‘bite me’ Riddle.”

You stiffened.

The entire table stilled.

Then, as if summoned by the devil himself, all heads turned in slow-motion toward the far end of the Slytherin table… where Theodore Nott sat, expression calm, buttering a scone with the serenity of a man who was either extremely zen or planning to murder someone using only a teaspoon.

You froze.

Mattheo froze.

Even Draco looked nervous.

“He doesn’t know,” you whispered.

“He definitely knows,” Astoria said calmly. “He’s buttering that scone with deadly precision. No one but assassins butter that neatly.”

Blaise leaned in, stage-whispering like a six-year-old gossip. “He’s holding the knife like he’s considering options.”

Pansy was practically vibrating. “I live for this. Theodore is going to explode. It’s going to be glorious. I want screaming. Threats. At least one table flip. I want to feel alive again!”

“Do not summon violence into this sacred breakfast,” you hissed.

Draco smirked. “Better tell Mattheo to run now while he still has all his limbs.”

Pansy stood up and immediately rolled up her sleeves. “I AM READY FOR THE DRAMA. BRING IT. DUEL AT DAWN. I’LL BE YOUR SECOND.”

Astoria grabbed her by the back of the cloak and yanked her down like she was restraining a feral cat. “Sit. Down. You’re not sword-fighting Theodore in the middle of breakfast.”

“Why not?” Pansy whined. “We live in a magical castle. This is the perfect place for sword-fighting!”

You and Mattheo exchanged a horrified glance.

“I think we just declared war,” he whispered.

You nodded. “Well. At least we’re dying pretty.”

If Mattheo Riddle had a Galleon for every time he thought, “this is how I die,” he could’ve funded a whole underground resistance, a few cursed artifacts, and still had enough left to buy you a shiny ring and a nice flat in Hogsmeade.

This time, though?

There would be no ring.

No flat.

No wedding.

Just his body launched into orbit by Theodore Nott’s inevitable, unstoppable rage.

You were standing in the corridor just outside the Great Hall, trying to decide whether to walk into your own execution or drag your boyfriend back to the dungeons by his ear.

Mattheo Riddle had been pacing like a man possessed for the past fifteen minutes.

“Okay, okay, okay—maybe I should bow?” he muttered to himself. “No. Too much. Theodore might think I’m mocking him. Should I curtsy? Would that be better? Classier?”

“Mattheo,” you said, voice deadpan, “if you curtsy to my brother, I will physically throw you out of a window.”

“I just—he’s going to murder me,” Mattheo wailed, throwing his hands in the air like some kind of tragic widow. “He’s going to skin me and use my corpse as a decorative throw for the Slytherin common room. I’ll be throw fashion, darling.”

You stared. “You’ve lost your mind.”

He spun dramatically and grabbed both your hands. “You don’t get it. That man terrifies me. He’s tall. He’s quiet. He wears all black. He looks like he reads tragic poetry for fun. He has ‘I’ll bury you behind the greenhouse’ energy.”

You tried not to laugh. “He’s just my brother.”

“No. He’s a whole experience. A terrifying one. Like one of those silent movies where the guy never speaks but everyone dies anyway.”

“Mattheo—”

“What if he pulls a wand on me and casts some obscure ancient curse from the Nott family grimoire and my skin turns inside out?”

“Then I’ll get you some exfoliating cream and a hug.”

Mattheo gave you an utterly wounded look. “That’s all the sympathy I get in my darkest hour?”

“Your darkest hour hasn’t even started.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the hallway.

Mattheo froze, grabbing the wall like a man in mourning. “Oh Merlin. It’s him. It’s Theodore. I’m not ready. You said I had five more minutes!”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“I wasn’t emotionally prepared then and I’m *less* emotionally prepared now!”

You didn't have time to argue. Theodore turned the corner, walking toward you with his usual unbothered, slow-as-hell stride, like he had all the time in the world to arrive at your crime scene.

Mattheo made a strangled noise like a dying bird and—without shame—threw himself behind you.

“Don’t let him hurt me!” he whisper-yelled into your shoulder. “If I die, tell your mother I looked amazing at my funeral.”

Theodore raised a single eyebrow. “Are you hiding behind my sibling?”

Mattheo popped his head out. “Not hiding—strategically retreating. It’s different.”

“Yes,” you muttered, “the strategy is cowardice.”

He clung to your robes like a damsel. “This is not cowardice. This is self-preservation, thank you very much.”

Theodore stared at him blankly. “You’re pathetic.”

Mattheo inhaled deeply and then stepped out with the air of a man marching to the gallows. “Okay. Okay. Theodore. I—I want to say something.”

Theodore tilted his head, mildly curious.

“I want to apologize for—uh—for all the... snogging. And emotional bonding. And, uh, the fact that I may or may not have licked and attacked your sibling’s neck in a highly inappropriate location on the Astronomy Tower—NOT THE POINT—what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry and please don’t hex my kneecaps or transfigure my ears into cauliflowers or whatever it is you Notts do when people betray your bloodline.”

Theodore blinked.

Mattheo cleared his throat. “I just—really, really like your sibling, alright? Like, a lot. Like, ‘I’d write you letters in blood if I wasn’t squeamish’ a lot. And I know I’m kind of a mess and also a little deranged but I swear on Salazar’s bald head that I’m serious about this and if you want to punch me, just go for the left side, that’s my less photogenic side anyway—”

“I already knew,” Theodore interrupted.

Mattheo stopped mid-rant, finger in the air like he had more dramatic declarations to unleash. “Wait. What?”

“I’ve known for weeks.”

There was a beat of complete, shell-shocked silence.

Mattheo’s hand slowly lowered. “You… what?”

“I saw you sneaking out of the Astronomy Tower the first time,” Theodore said casually. “The scarf was a dead giveaway. And the second time. And the third. And the time you came back to the dorms with glitter in your hair and that weird grin like you'd just invented a new sin.”

Mattheo blinked rapidly. “So you knew... this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“No.”

“You didn’t curse me? Or duel me? Or send a howler to my mother?!”

Theodore shrugged. “I was enjoying watching you panic.”

You smacked your forehead.

Mattheo gasped and dramatically grabbed your sleeve. “He played me like a fiddle. A fiddle made of pure emotional torment.”

Theodore looked at you, dead serious. “If he breaks your heart, I’ll feed him to the Giant Squid.”

Mattheo nodded solemnly. “Honestly? That’s fair. Bit overkill, but poetic.”

“You two are insufferable,” you muttered.

Mattheo flopped against your back again, sighing dramatically. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He peeked at Theodore again. “So we’re good?”

Theodore gave him a long look. “Don’t push it.”

Mattheo immediately retreated behind you again. “He said don’t push it. I’m not pushing it. I’m hiding behind it.”

“You’re a grown man.”

“I’m a terrified man!”

Pansy, who had just turned the corner behind you with Draco and Astoria in tow, screeched like someone had been stabbed—an unholy, earsplitting shriek that ricocheted off the stone walls of the corridor like a cursed howler let loose during a funeral.

“HE FUCKING KNEW?!” she howled, her eyes wide with the sheer betrayal of it all, like Theodore had personally wronged her ancestral bloodline.

The entire hallway fell into a stunned silence for half a second before chaos exploded like a badly brewed potion. A nearby portrait of a sleepy wizard jolted awake and threw his goblet at the ground, muttering something about “witches these days.” You and Mattheo both flinched so violently you almost knocked heads—and Mattheo, being the brave soul that he was, dove behind you like a coward, clutching the back of your robes with the death grip of a man facing an angry hippogriff.

“HOLY SHIT, Pansy!” Lorenzo barked, careening in behind her like a gale-force wind in Gucci boots, nearly tripping over his own feet and the bag of crisps he had clearly brought specifically for this moment. “You trying to rupture the space-time continuum with your lungs? I think my left eardrum just committed suicide!”

“You—you KNEW?!” Blaise turned to Theodore with all the grace and fury of someone who just found out his favorite soap opera had been canceled mid-cliffhanger. “And you didn’t do anything?! Not even a single ominous shoulder squeeze? A disapproving nod? A slow, terrifying walk behind them in the corridors with your eyes narrowed like a cryptid in the fog?!”

“I was counting on some emotionally stunted vengeance,” Lorenzo chimed in, now holding his crisps like a judgmental gavel. “You let us down, Nott.”

“EXACTLY!” Pansy shrieked, spinning around with the energy of a banshee leading a revolution. “Where’s the drama?! Where’s the furious wand duel at midnight in the courtyard? WHERE'S THE TWO-PAGE SPEECH ABOUT BETRAYAL AND SIBLING HONOUR AND A TRAGIC LOVE DOOMED FROM THE START?!”

Draco looked like he was genuinely grieving. He placed one hand on his heart, the other dramatically outstretched as if speaking to the heavens. “This is worse than my father’s fourth engagement party. At least that had fireworks and an enchanted swan that exploded.”

Theodore, for his part, looked like he’d just woken up from a nap and couldn’t be arsed. Standing with his hands in his pockets and his expression set to “Could Not Care Less If I Tried,” he said, “I already told them. I’ve known for weeks.”

“WEEKS?!” Blaise yelped, clutching Lorenzo’s shoulder like he needed emotional support.

“And you didn’t even glare once?!” Draco gasped, eyes practically bulging out of his head. “You didn’t pull out your wand and threaten to CRUCIO his bloodline?!”

“I expected some level of ominous sibling rage,” Lorenzo muttered. “Instead I got... emotional neutrality. Honestly, it’s offensive.”

“I’m just—confused,” Blaise said, flinging his arms out. “Do you even care? You’re acting like Mattheo hasn’t spent the past month playing tonsil hockey with your sibling in every broom cupboard in the castle.”

“I expected fireworks,” Pansy seethed. “Screaming. Maybe a duel that would’ve made the school nurse cry. At least a threatened expulsion! And instead—” she gestured wildly at Theodore “—we got this! Calm! Rational! Emotionally intelligent?! I’m DISGUSTED.”

Astoria, who had been quietly standing by, now had both hands around Pansy’s waist, physically holding her back like she was restraining a chihuahua on steroids. “Pans, don’t lunge. You promised no tackling.”

“I DIDN’T PROMISE NOTHING,” Pansy roared.

Theodore blinked slowly, looking almost bored. “If Mattheo breaks their heart, I’ll throw him off the Astronomy Tower myself. Until then, I’ve got exams.”

Mattheo, still half-hiding behind you like a traumatized Victorian child, made a strangled sound. “He’s gonna what—?”

“I—I tried to apologize,” Mattheo spluttered, peeking out from behind your shoulder with the world’s most wounded expression. “I was halfway through my bloody sentence and he just cut me off! I had a whole speech! With metaphors!”

“You didn’t even get to the metaphor about comparing Theodore’s glare to a dementor with a caffeine addiction,” you whispered.

“RIGHT?” Mattheo pointed at you with a pout. “That was my best one!”

“You were sobbing into a chocolate frog outside the potions lab,” Blaise said, deadpan.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Lorenzo added with a snort. “You kept whispering, ‘he’s going to turn me into a ferret’.”

“You weren’t even dating me when you did that,” you muttered.

Mattheo groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “I was emotionally preparing! For war!”

“And there was no war!” Draco cried. “Just—just peace! Like we’re living in some healthy, emotionally mature AU!”

“This is worse than my cousin’s vow renewal,” Pansy snapped, now pacing in a circle. “At least that ended with a hexed priest and someone’s wig catching fire.”

Lorenzo clapped Blaise on the back. “Well, guess I lost the bet.”

“What bet?” you asked, dreading the answer.

“I had twenty galleons on Theodore turning Mattheo into a cactus and leaving him outside Hagrid’s hut.”

“Honestly, I would’ve preferred that,” Mattheo muttered.

“Same,” Draco said, disgusted.

“You’re all insane,” Theodore said.

“And you’re boring,” Blaise fired back. “Where’s the trauma?! Where’s the iconic sibling rage? You had the perfect opportunity to deliver a one-liner and threaten him with a slow, painful doom! Instead you let him live?!”

Pansy turned on Theodore with wide, devastated eyes. “You’re not mad at all? Like not even a little? There’s no secret plotting? No passive aggressive breakfast commentary?!”

Theodore just shrugged. “I like my sibling. I don’t hate Riddle. I’m not wasting spell energy unless he does something dumb.”

“I am something dumb!” Mattheo squeaked from behind you.

“WE KNOW!” Pansy and Draco yelled in unison.

Astoria buried her face in her hands. “I’m too sober for this.”

Draco sighed dramatically and crossed his arms. “Fine. New plan. Someone date someone they shouldn’t so we can salvage this absolute travesty.”

“I VOLUNTEER!” Lorenzo said immediately.

“NO YOU DON’T!” Blaise and Draco snapped.

You turned to Mattheo with a dazed smile as the rest of your friends devolved into chaos, arguing over who should pretend to get engaged for maximum scandal.

“Well,” you muttered. “That went well.”

Mattheo blinked at you, still clutching your robes. “I feel like I survived an execution by emotional chaos.”

You patted his cheek. “You did great, sweetheart.”

“I hate all of them,” he whispered.

From behind you, Pansy screamed, “SOMEONE THROW SOMETHING DRAMATIC OR I’M GOING TO COMBUST.”

A shoe flew past your head.

“Okay,” Mattheo muttered. “Maybe I don’t hate them. I just… fear them.”

You nodded. “Reasonable.”

And somewhere, Theodore was already walking away from the scene like a man who had never emotionally invested in anything except his morning tea and the hope that someone, someday, would shut Pansy up for more than two minutes.

[ilyasorokinn]

not papa , freddie andersen

note, this has been in my drafts for probably a year and a half, but i finally decided to finish it in time for the game tonight lol. this came about afer seeing a tiktok of brandon carlo's daughter up at the glass, and not recognizing them (plus winnie martin looking straight into her father's eyes and backing up). so, linking those tiktoks here and here. then i also saw a comment of another hockey mom mentioning that her kid doesn't recognize her goalie dad in his mask. another note, this fic is part of the "andersen adventures" series. check out this masterlist for more. also, this takes place when elias is 4 and julia is 2. pair, freddie andersen x reader summary, alma, still too young to understand what her dad does, goes to a game and doesn't recognize him in his goalie uniform. warnings, kids/children word count, 2243 words

(gif not mine)

The smile on Alma's face was identical to Freddie's as she looked up at her father. You smiled when you heard her giggle when he started kissing all around her face.

"... and mama loves you, and Eli loves you..." He continued on listing everyone you knew, peppering her face with kisses in between each person.

You waited a few seconds before stepping in and bursting the bubble of love, "Sorry to have to break this up..."

"Mama..." They both whined, looking back at you with the same puppy-dog eyes.

"Don't give me that look." You shook your head, crossing your arms.

"Please? Just a few more minutes?" He begged.

"Fred..." You sighed.

"Please, mama?" Alma begged, her "please" sounding a bit more like "pwese", which made you almost want to give in and forget all about hockey.

You hiked her up your hip as she continued to look into your eyes, begging, "Papa's gotta go, Llama." You kissed her head and pushed some hair out of her face.

She shook her head rapidly, looking back at Fred. He knew you were right, but really didn't want to go. You looked over at him, pleading with your eyes because if he didn't leave soon, he would definitely be late.

You knew he was beginning to crack when he looked away, rubbing his jaw, "Why don't we get you dressed, huh?" You tried to distract Alma the best you could.

You walked into her room while Freddie continued to get ready. "Do you know what today is?" You asked, tickling her stomach as you grabbed her shirt.

"Sticks and pucks." That was what she called hockey, and when the day came when she started using the correct term, that would be the day your heart broke.

"That's right! We're gonna go see Papa at sticks and pucks." You kissed her forehead as you changed her pants. "Are you excited to see all your friends?" She nodded again, "Huh-uh, like who?" You continued to try to distract her.

You pulled out some of her toys, knowing you would regret it later tonight when you would be blindly walking around in the dark, trying not to wake up Alma.

You picked up Ken because she always loved to be Barbie, and there was never another option for you. After a few minutes, you knew she was distracted and would continue to distract herself. So, you let her keep playing and decided to finish getting ready.

You met Freddie in the bathroom where he was finishing getting ready. You met his eyes in the mirror and smiled, "Another year." You blew out a breath. "How're you feeling?"

"Same as always. It's just another game." He shrugged, fixing his hair in the mirror.

"Fred..." You sighed, rolling your eyes, "Well, I guess I'll be excited for both of us." You joked, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your chin against his back.

"So..." He changed the subject, "Do I get to see this year's jacket?" He turned around and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, looking down at you and kissing your forehead.

"Nope." You shook your head.

"No?" He squawked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean no, Fred. It's a surprise." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not everyone else. I'm your husband." He reminded you.

"I know, but you love a good surprise. Just wait a bit. You'll see." You unwrapped yourself from his arms.

He rolled his eyes but finished getting ready. You managed to finish right at the same time, which was right when Fred had to leave. You held Alma on your hip as Fred bent down to Eli's level, kissing his head and pulling him in for a hug.

"Bye, E." He kissed his head again, "I'll see you in a bit."

"Can I get a puck tonight?" He asked, pulling away from his dad so he could look him in the eyes.

"I'll pick a special one just for you." Fred nodded.

"Promise?" Eli asked, raising a quizzical brow at his father.

"I promise." Fred nodded. Eli nodded back before running off to play with his toys that were scattered around the living room.

Freddie stood up to his full height and ran his pointer finger gently across Alma's soft cheek, "I'll see you later, too, Alma." He cooed, kissing her head and smoothing back some of her hair.

"Papa." She reached up for him, smiling when she got her way, and Freddie picked her up.

"Papa has to go now," Freddie smiled sadly, kissing her head again and cradling him close to his chest. He looked at you and sighed, "See you later. Let me know if you need any help."

"I will, promise." You leaned up to kiss him, carefully taking Alma back from him, "I love you."

"I love you, too. All of you." He blew you a kiss before gathering his stuff and opening the door. He waved once more before he was out the door.

-

Once you had arrived and gotten both kids out of their carseats, Elias was off and running ahead of you, high-fiving everyone as he went. You tried to keep up with him, but Alma was still small and couldn't run as fast as her brother.

"Slow down, buddy." You called after him, chuckling when he turned around and pouted at you. Once you had caught up to him with Alma, he was off and running again.

You somehow managed to get a few good pictures of him running ahead with his custom Andersen jacket that you had gotten made for both kids, specifically for the playoffs.

Once he got to the security checkpoint, he greeted everyone there with high-fives and happily showed off his family badge. When you were let through, Elias was off again, and running off, navigating through Lenovo like he ran the place.

You followed him down to the ice, where all the family was during warm-ups. He pressed himself to the glass, his eyes wide as he took in everything. The lights were still on, and the arena was abuzz as fans got ready for game one of the playoffs.

You couldn't help but smile at your hockey-kid and his love for the sport. He was only 4, but you knew that he would share the love for the game like his father. Which position he would play depended on the day.

"Next time, can we bring a sign, mama?" Elias asked, turning around to face you.

"Of course we can, E." You nodded, brushing a piece of hair that had fallen into his face away, making a mental note to book a haircut for both kids.

"All right, Eli is excited, but what about Alma?" Drew, Chatty's fiancé, asked, nudging your shoulder as she approached the glass next to you, Krew happily standing next to Elias.

"Yeah!" Alma cheered. She probably had no idea what was going on or what Drew had asked her, but she was just excited that someone was talking and giving her attention.

"She doesn't even know what's going on, do you?" You cooed, switching from your normal voice to your baby voice. Alma giggled, kicking her feet and waving her arms around.

While you waited for warm-ups to start, you conversed with the other girls, getting pictures with all the kids and their special jackets, which was more stressful than it should have been.

Krew and Elias managed to keep themselves distracted until the spotlights came down and the music turned up. The crowd began cheering when the giant lights shone at the Canes tunnel.

"Papa, it's papa!" Elias cheered, jumping up and down and pointing when he saw Freddie come out first.

"You see Papa, Llama?" You asked, pointing to Freddie. Alma became distracted, not even following your finger. She spotted her and Elias' favorite player, Seth Jarvis, and clapped her hands.

She wiggled in your arms, wanting to be put down, so you stood her up against the little ledge in front of the giant panel of glass. Seth came over first, tapping the glass and giving each kid a high-five before he skated off. Jalen came over, distracting Krew and tossing his son a puck. Elias watched, excited to get his own from his dad.

"Papa, come over here," Elias demanded, watching his dad skate around. Freddie finally skated over, tapping the glass, which made Elias very happy, "Papa, papa!" He chanted over and over, jumping up and down.

No matter how many times Elias came to games, and no matter how many times he would be at the glass during warm-ups, it would never get old for him. He would always react the same, jumping around, excited to see his dad.

He managed to grab two pucks and made his way over to the photo hole. The person there took them and handed one to Elias, who clutched it happily to his chest, and the other was handed to Alma, who happily took it and did the same.

Elias turned back to the ice and slapped his hands on the glass. Freddie took his giant glove off and slipped it between his legs. He put his first up to the glass, and Elias did the same. They fist-bumped through the glass, and Freddie did the explosion thing, which made Elias burst out in laughter.

You watched the father-son duo with a big smile, happy that they shared the love of the game together. Freddie tapped the glass again, this time looking at Alma, who was still distracted by everything else around her.

"Alma, look who it is." You tried to garner her attention, turning her around so she was looking at Freddie. She finally looked at him, but a look of confusion crossed her face. "It's papa." You encouraged. Freddie tapped the glass, smiling through his mask.

Instead of seeing her dad, she saw a giant man in a mask and a giant suit, which was enough to make her burst into tears. She practically jumped into your arms, hiding her face in your neck.

Freddie, from the other side of the glass, looked helpless as Alma cried into your neck. You ran a hand down her back, trying to soothe her, "It's okay." You cooed.

Freddie knew she didn't recognize him in all the gear, but he knew if he took it all off, she would recognize him, so he didn't take it to heart. She was only 2 after all.

You took a step back, trying to soothe her, and Freddie quickly jumped in and distracted Elias, continuing their pre-game ritual and going on about it like it was any other game.

-

The game was definitely a good one. With an almost shutout and second star of the game, Freddie, you waited up for him in the living room with a post-game snack and drink. Elias had managed to stay up the entire game, which was a new record, while Alma tired herself out halfway through the first intermission, sleeping through the rest of the game.

At the sound of keys jingling in the lock, Jasper was off and running to the door to greet his dad, tail wagging as he ran as fast as his little legs could take him.

"Hey, Jas." Freddie greeted. Even though you couldn't see his face, you could hear how tired he was. During intermission, you managed to get a few texts in, and could tell, even though it was a massive win, he was kicking himself over the one goal.

You got up from the couch and watched him scratch behind Jasper's ears. He finally set his bags down and ran a hand over his face. He pushed himself off his knees and made his way over to you.

"Hi, you." You greeted him with a smile. He hummed, plopping down on the couch and closing his eyes with a sigh, "You did amazing tonight, you know."

"I know." He nodded.

"Then don't beat yourself up over it. Do you know how many shots you blocked tonight?" You nudged his shoulder.

"You gonna tell me?" He opened one eye and looked over at you with a small smile.

"I don't know the exact number, but it was a lot." He chuckled, "Come on, Fred."

"I know." He repeated, "Just gotta be better."

"You're the best." You stated. He looked over at you and opened his mouth to say something, "The best." You repeated.

Something softened in his eyes, and he finally smiled, one that met his eyes. He opened his arms, an invitation for you. You happily melted into his arms, smiling when he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“What do you think about the jackets?” You asked.

You felt him laugh, “I really liked it. I always like seeing the jackets.”

“I’m glad.” You hummed, “I helped with it this year.”

“Well, no wonder they look so good.” He joked. You fell into a comfortable silence, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Freddie and how you knew he was still beating himself up in his head.

"I'm proud of you." You felt him nod, "No matter what everyone else is saying, you're always the number one star in my books." You placed a kiss to his shoulder.

You laid in silence once again for a few minutes before Freddie broke it, "So, are we gonna talk about Alma being terrified of me tonight?"

-

my taglist: @lam-ila @criminallysuperhamilfan13 @2manytabsopen @laurenairay @rosesvioletshardy @kolsmikaelson @bowen-power @kidlnthedark @boqvistsbabe @sc87 @Nhlandy617727 @iwantahockeyhimbo @cixrosie @mitch-slap

add yourself to my taglist!

[auraisereigh]

"The Thread Between Us"

oneshot

Garrick Tavis x Healer f!reader Words: 1.2K Blurb: In the quiet hours between duty and war, a healer hides a forbidden connection — one stitched together with poetry, healing balm, and a rider’s shameless charm. Secrets aren't supposed to feel this sweet. ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Secret relationship. Mild sensual content. Fluff & tension. Forbidden romance.

Request: I really like how you write about Garrick 🥹 can you make some Garrick x healer!reader, maybe some fluff/suggestive established relationship where he pays her a visit or how they sneak to sleep in each other's rooms

Masterlist ☆ Star's story ☆ Support me ☆ Standalones ☆

There’s a saying that a tether exists between life and death — a woven thread made from the very being of a person. A thread that guides you from the day you’re born to the day you die. They say this tether — this bond or chain — decides how you live, and how you die.

It’s that saying that convinced me to join the Healers Quadrant instead of any other. To have a chance, a say in this woven thread. Maybe even change it. To help those whose chains are already pulling them in.

Third year is easier than second. Most of it is preparation — for the outside, for war, for the wounded.

I’ve made it my life’s purpose to know everything that could save someone. How many stitches a three-inch cut needs. Which natural remedies heal best. What makes pain stop — even just for a little while.

I’m cleaning the tools from my last patient — a rider with a nasty cut across his cheekbone. Deep enough for stitches. A healing balm will take care of the rest over the next few days.

I place the final tool in its tray.

“Must’ve hit my head, ’cause I swear I’m seeing an angel,” comes his voice �� smug and familiar. Cocky in the way only he can get away with.

And yet… I fell for it.

“An icepack and some rest will help with your concussion. And your hallucinations,” I reply, flashing him a grin as I take off my healer’s robe. I fold it neatly onto one of the beds.

His arms wrap around my waist from behind, and my heart kicks a little harder. I should be used to this — used to sneaking into his room, despite how forbidden it is for a healer to be in the riders’ quadrant. He’s done the same. Temptation never really leaves.

“Finished your book,” he murmurs near my ear, placing a soft kiss just behind it. The way my breath hitches tells me he notices. “Loved the poetry. Even if I’m not much of a reader.”

A shiver runs down my spine. I take a small step away from him. “Then you can thank me by bringing it back tonight,” I say sweetly — a tone that always gets him.

His grin widens, a playful glint flashing in his eyes. “How could I refuse that offer, Buttercup?” he drawls, using the nickname he gave me months ago.

I roll my eyes as he leans in, his lips just inches from mine — but he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he pulls back and holds up the small tin of healing balm he snuck from behind me.

“Thanks for this, Buttercup,” he teases again before disappearing out of the quadrant.

-----------

Once my shift ends, I follow my usual routine: clean up, change into comfortable clothes, and spend the rest of the evening reading or writing poetry. My favorite subject lately? The ribbon of fate. I’ve read more books about it than I can count.

The poetry book I lent Garrick — the one I found in the archives — is all about healing. About letting love in and learning to embrace it, despite how deeply it hurt the author once.

A knock pulls me from my thoughts — quick and familiar. Garrick. It’s always that same rhythm when he’s sneaking in, trying not to get caught by Healers in the halls.

I get up and open the door. He slips in quickly and I close it softly behind him.

“Scared to get caught?” I ask, a smile tugging at my lips as I head back to my chair.

“Wouldn’t call it scared exactly,” he replies, brushing his hair back with a hand.

I hum in response.

A moment later, he places the poetry book on my desk — the one I’d brought from home. I had quoted it once, and to my surprise, he’d asked to read the whole thing.

“Was it any good?” I ask quietly. Reading and writing poetry always feels vulnerable — raw. Letting someone read it is like handing over a piece of myself.

“It was you,” he says simply, and the words calm the storm in my chest. “It’s how I see you.”

His eyes meet mine, deep and steady. I slide off my chair to sit on the floor next to him, and he pulls me in for a kiss.

His lips are soft, and he deepens the kiss slowly. One hand cups my cheek, the other wrapping around my waist.

I break the kiss for a breath. “You stole a tin of balm,” I whisper, feigning a scold.

“Borrowed,” he corrects, lifting my chin with a single finger. “Admit it. You like when I visit.”

I almost say it. Almost give in. But I bite my tongue.

He sees it anyway. That same smug grin makes its return, and the butterflies in my stomach take flight.

“Gare…” I murmur, breathless.

He lifts me easily, carrying me to my bed. “Yes, Buttercup?” he teases, smiling.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he silences me with another kiss — deeper, hungrier this time. He pushes me gently down onto the mattress, climbing over me without breaking the kiss.

Even though we’ve done this for weeks — months, maybe — the thrill never fades. The secrecy. The risk. It crackles in the air between us, sharp and electric.

We break apart only for breath. He hovers over me, his voice low and sure.

“Tell me what you want.”

“You,” I say without hesitation.

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, the gentleness of it a contrast to the hunger in his gaze.

“You have me,” he breathes.

And I do. I always have.

♤