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tropes-and-tales · 30 days ago

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First Time for Everything

(Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

CW: Angst (friends-with-benefits; idiots in love; talk of bad past relationships; injuries); smut (vague references to sex; oral sex gone awry); 18+ only.

Word Count: 5591

AN: This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: Usual caveat - not edited in any way. Likely grammar bugaboos, tense switches, etc.

Bob Floyd would have never thought he’d end up in a friends-with-benefits situation, but there’s a first time for everything.

You’re the one who drives the entire enterprise. A civilian who works at Top Gun, you’re no stranger to the stress of dealing with a multi-billion-dollar fleet of planes. You serve as a liaison between the Navy and the bevy of contractors who build and maintain the planes, and if Bob has to juggle a million complicated systems mid-flight, you have to juggle a million tricky relationships and contracts on the ground.

You put the question to him, late one night at the Hard Deck. Harvard and Yale had been leading a spirited conversation about dry spells, long distant relationships, juggling hook-ups. You and Bob sat there, listening but adding little. But after the other Daggers started to peel away one by one, you had turned to Bob and started asking about his love life.

“Non-existent,” he had replied with a sad shake of his head.

“Same.”

There was a beat of silence—you sipped at your drink; Bob cracked another peanut.

“Any prospects?” you asked.

Another shake of his head.

“Yeah, same here,” you replied.

Then there was another long stretch of silence, but this time you fixed Bob with a curious look. It lasted long enough for him to notice, for him to squirm in his seat—

“So, I have an idea, and you’re totally free to say ‘no,’” you started, and the rest was history.

-----

That was months ago. Bob has gotten to know you much better since then.

Much, much better.

He knows what you feel like. He knows what you taste like. He knows the place on your neck that makes you keen when he puts his mouth to it. He knows exactly where to press the tips of his fingers when they are inside you, where to find the spot that makes your pussy pulse with arousal, that makes your breathing stutter and your eyes roll back, that makes you moan out his name—

He knows how it sounds when you moan his name, and he knows how that affects him in turn, and he knows that he doesn’t know nearly enough about you.

He doesn’t know what you eat for breakfast or how you take your coffee or if you even drink coffee at all. He doesn’t know much about your family, little about your childhood, only a bit about your wants and likes and dislikes.

Because of the rules you laid out that night at the Hard Deck.

Hooking up, friends-with-benefits, you had explained, requires clear lines be drawn. Otherwise, it gets messy. Feelings develop. Misunderstandings happen. People get hurt, sometimes badly.

Your rules keep those lines clearly drawn. No spending the night. No dates beyond sex—no lunch dates or movie nights, no days at the beach together. You call each other and make plans to fuck, and then you part, and that keeps it neat. Clean.

There’s no way you can know it, because you don’t really know Bob either, but there’s no rule on earth you could put in place that would keep him from falling for you anyway. You work with numbers and contracts all day, so you believe in the power of words, in rules.

You don’t know that Bob Floyd doesn’t require much to fall in love with you. That the paltry moments between physical encounters is plenty for love to flourish for him. That the handful of soft touches, the smiles, the little laughs…they are enough. The way you pat his cheek after you brush a chaste kiss there once you’re dressed and about to leave his place. The time you slid his glasses on his face, then kissed the tip of his nose.

Which is why your rules turn out to be so important after all: because here he is, hopelessly, painfully in love while you only see him a safe place to release your sexual frustrations. He cannot imagine how much worse it would hurt if those lines didn’t exist.

*****

You have a chronic issue with men.

You pick the worst possible boyfriends. From high school until now, you seem to only attract cheaters, losers, and general assholes. Numerous boyfriends cheated on you. One stole your car. One stole your prescription sleeping pills and got arrested trying to sell them.

It’s not that you’re attracted to assholes, really. The whole bad-boy schtick bores you. It’s more that you like to fix things; you like to turn chaos into order. That trait serves you well at work, untangling all the intricate contracts and orders and rules between the Navy and their contractors.

That trait serves you less well in love, because people often can’t be fixed, at least not without wanting to be fixed. And anyway, the guys you date need deep fucking therapy, not a girlfriend with a fetish for setting order to the universe.

(A therapist once posited that you’re this way because of your own childhood: the only child of two career Army parents. Your chaotic formative years—bouncing around the world, unable to set roots, sometimes even shifted from one parent to another due to conflicting deployments—left you with a wound, your therapist suggested. Disliking having a mirror held up to yourself, you just ghosted said therapist and never dug into that part of your internal makeup again).

But the therapist did make you aware of your bad patterns with men, so you swear off relationships, which is easy enough.

You still have needs, though.

You canvass the Hard Deck for a month. Take in all the fly boys and consider the fly girls too. Profile them, watched how they acted when they think no one is watching. Watch them sober, watch them drunk. Watch to see which ones are handsy in an unwelcome way, and which ones remain respectful.

It’s Bob Floyd who catches your eye.

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually. Quiet, reserved. Hardly ever drinks but gets in on the sing-alongs. Plays pool when someone needs an opponent. Is often the designated driver, and you smile when you see his bemused frustration when he steers a fellow Dagger, drunk and stumbling, out the door and safely home. He’s so stable and pulled-together. You bet he’s never cheated on a girl or stolen her car. Not your type at all.

He’s good-looking though, in a quiet way. Ditch the shitty Navy-issued glasses, muss up his hair a little, and he’d be downright handsome.

Not the sort of man you’d go for, usually, but you aren’t looking for a boyfriend or a future husband. You just need a zero risk, reliable guy to get off with. It seems like a long shot because Bob is so quiet, but when you put the idea to him, he blinks…then asks you to clarify.

Then he agrees.

-----

That was months ago.

The arrangement works. It’s exactly what you were looking for. Bob Floyd is exactly what you thought he was: reliable, steady. He’s no broken man-child; he’s quiet but that belies a secure sort of masculinity that you’ve never really experienced before. He knows who he is and what he wants, and he isn’t swayed by anything. He’s solid.

He’s also surprising, in some ways.

To be crude about it, in looking for a friend-with-benefits, you needed only two things in a man: a clean bill of health and a hard dick. Bob is able to provide both (he hands you his test results from his latest physical, neatly folded in an envelope the first night you meet up).

He is also able to provide more than that. The first night is a little awkward, but only because you are near-strangers.

The second encounter is better.

The third encounter is…wonderful. It’s like Bob was homing in on you, treating you like one of his weapon systems. Calibrating you. Figuring out what you like and doing more of that, seeing what you don’t respond to and never doing it again. Which makes it sound cold, how he figures you out, but Bob is so damned warm. Warm and sweet and considerate, and he grins at you and laughs with you, and it’d be so easy to fall for him—

It's been months, but for fucks sake, you’re falling for him. It’s embarrassing, because you gave him this tough-girl speech about rules and lines and not catching feelings, and he had nodded seriously and said he understood…and now here you are, the idiot who is catching feelings, who is realizing that maybe your type of man was wrong all along, that maybe who you needed was a reliable, steady man with warmth and blue eyes that swim a bit behind the lens of his thick glasses.

*****

It’s been months, and Bob always worries that this arrangement will end.

One of your rules had been that the arrangement stops the moment one of you find someone else, and Bob always worries that someone else will catch your eye. That you’ll find some man—you are surrounded by handsome, capable men every day, for heaven’s sake—that you find an appealing prospect. Someone you want to sleep with and be with.

Someone better than him.

He’s usually so secure in himself, but he has a small crisis of confidence. He wonders what he lacks—what makes him a good hook-up but not a good boyfriend? If he could just show you…if he could take you out on a proper date. Buy you flowers, buy you dinner, take you for a moonlit stroll along the beach. If he could cook for you, show you that he’s not that useless breed of man who can’t or won’t do homey tasks. If he could take care of you when you’re sick, be a sounding board when you rage…

Bob decides to do what he can, which is to just be the best lover he can be. To be the most considerate, most adventuresome, most giving man you’ve ever taken to bed. It’s all he can do anyway, so he might as well give it his best.

-----

Bob usually lets you lead. He lets you set the schedule, and for every five times you call to hook-up, he calls once.

The arrangement, such as it is, does work for him. For all the angst of his unrequited love for you, the hooking up does relax him. It helps him burn off extra energy, which helps him focus at work.

It also helps him explore things he has never tried before.

With you, Bob has played around with role play: tame scenarios where he gets to pretend that he’s a different person than he is. He has tried a variety of positions that have tested him in both strength and flexibility. If there’s a list of sexual acts, Bob feels like he’s steadily working through it with you.

There’s still one, though…

It’s Fritz who starts the conversation at the Hard Deck. You’re not there, but the guys all are, and the conversation drifts towards the usual locker room talk. Fritz kicks it off by talking about his latest girl. The guys egg him on for details. Bob grins around the rim of his glass, says little, but then Fritz says, “man, when she sits on my face and smothers me in that pussy, I could die happy.”

It never occurred to Bob before, but he adds it to his list of sexual acts: have you sit on his face and smother him with your pussy.

The idea takes hold so fiercely that Bob has to shift in his seat, suddenly warm at the thought of you sitting on him, his mouth on you. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, and he’s sending you a text before he even has a beat to rethink it.

Want to meet up tonight?

You reply within a minute.

Sure. Mine or yours?

Bob pauses and considers. He catches Rooster’s eye and tilts his head at him, gesturing to his roommate for a sidebar. Rooster comes over and stands beside Bob.

“What’s up?” Rooster asks.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

Rooster grins at the question. It’s not exactly a secret that you and Bob are hooking up, though you don’t publicize it either. Bob doesn’t know that his fellow Daggers have a betting pool about how the situation with you will resolve. He’s caught the sly grins between them sometimes and wondered at what they mean.

“You asking if the apartment will be empty?” Rooster asks. “Hell, Baby on Board. Keep it to your room. I don’t care what happens in the privacy of your own room.”

Bob can’t help the blush that heats his face. He shouldn’t be embarrassed, but sometime the two of you get lost in the moment, and more than once, Rooster has sidled up to Bob the day after and clapped him on the back, congratulated him on his prowess—

Rooster catches the man’s discomfort and elbows him in the side. “I was planning on finding myself some companionship for the night,” he finally says. “The place is all yours.”

Bob thanks him, then texts you.

My place?

Another beat before your answer comes. When?

Now.

*****

Bob generally lets you set the tone of your arrangement, but sometimes he has a moment of dominance that makes a wave of desire wash through you so strongly that your knees actually go weak.

Like his text. No softening his final message, just a simple, single word that holds a universe of promise.

Now.

“Yes, sir,” you murmur. You only take a minute to brush your teeth and slip into nicer lingerie, but then you get in your car and head over to his place.

He must have been waiting at the window, watching for you. You aren’t even halfway up the steps to his porch when the door swings open, and there he is.

Of course it was easy to catch feelings for him. He’s perfect, and right now he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

-----

“Explain it…again,” you manage to get out between kisses. “How does…it work?”

Bob raises himself, props himself on his forearms on either side of your head. His hair is mussed (perfect), and his glasses are on the bedside stand, so his blue eyes peer down at you.

“You sit on my face,” he replies simply.

You huff out a breath. “Sure, but….like, how? I weigh a lot—”

He shakes his head. “Not a problem for me, honey.”

“But I could hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I could kill you.”

He laughs, and he shifts his weight onto one arm so the other is free to reach down and grasp your waist. “If you kill me like that, I want how I died mentioned in my obituary, okay?”

“Not funny!” You poke him in the side, and he laughs again.

“Seriously, Bob. I don’t want to hurt you,” you continue.

“You won’t. I promise. It’ll be fine. But I want to do this.” His smile fades, and he fixes you with a darker look that sends a bolt of lust right through your core. “Please.”

-----

The two of you, once you got over your initial awkwardness, usually move so well together. Perfectly coordinated, in sync.

This…is not that.

For the first time, the two of you aren’t working together. Bob can’t know it, but it’s not just a physical misalignment—there are hidden feelings at play. As you tentatively hover over where he lays on the bed, you feel suddenly exposed, like Bob might be able to see the feelings you’ve caught for him. It’s so intimate, you think, being so bared to him. You hold yourself back, shy, and Bob doesn’t understand the sudden reticence in you. He chalks it up to fear of hurting him.

And you can’t know it, but Bob absolutely loves how intimate it is, being so exposed to him. There are hidden feelings on his side too—how hard it hits him, that he’s never done this with another woman before, and how he cannot imagine doing it with another one after you. He’s ravenous for you, wants to possess you in every way he can, but when he tries to tug you closer to him, you chalk it up to general horniness and nothing more.

It is all misunderstanding, in the end. You hold yourself back, hover over his face. He grips your hips, tries to pull you to him. The two of you struggle against the other, not understanding what is really driving the other—

“Come on,” he growls. “Give it to me, honey.”

“Bob, I don’t—”

“I can take it.”

“But I—”

It happens in a split second. Bob tugs you down against him in the exact moment you try to get a better balance over him, and the force of his pulling you down is added to the full weight of you shifting, with a bit of gravity, and you hit Bob so hard.

There’s a sickening crack, like a chicken bone snapping. You look down at him, startled, and see his blue eyes widen in pain—shock—

You scramble off of him, call his name, but he doesn’t move, and then you see it.

Blood. There’s so much blood, all over his face, and you yell his name now, but he still doesn’t move—

You’ve killed him. You’ve murdered him, and you scream. You reach for your phone and fumble it, and your body just acts. You back away, your mind scrambling, and you think I need to stop the bleeding, so you think to go to the bathroom for a towel, but when you pivot quick on your heel and turn towards the closed door, it is already swinging inward, right at your face, hard, and there’s an explosion of pain behind your eyes.

Then everything goes dark, and you don’t wake until you’re in the ambulance.

*****

Bob wakes up to the paramedics sliding him onto the backboard, his head immobilized between two foam blocks. Rooster hovers at the perimeter, a worried look on his face.

“What—” Bob manages to croak out, but the room grows dim again, and he fades in and out until the hospital.

-----

He comes to and stays awake in a quiet hospital room. There’s the steady beep of a monitor somewhere behind and above him. When he tries to turn his head, though, he finds himself held in place by a brace.

“You’re awake finally.” The voice is familiar, and a moment later, Phoenix’s face swims into his peripherals.

“You scared us, Baby on Board.” Rooster, to the left of him.

“Who knew you had it in you?” The voice at the foot of the bed, the hint of smarm. Bob feels a hand on his ankle, jostling him lightly. “You dirty fucking freak.”

“Shut up, Bagman.” Phoenix glares at the cocky pilot, then turns back to Bob, her gaze softening. “How are you feeling?”

He considers his answer. He feels…rough.

He also notices that his Dagger teammates are there, but you are not. Which makes him feel worse.

Phoenix seems to read his thoughts. Something in his expression must give him away, because she leans in closer and sets a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s still downstairs,” she says, low near his ear. “You got a room, but she’s still in the E.R. They haven’t released her yet.”

“E.R.?”

She smiles, snorts out a light laugh. “Yeah, the two of you are a real fucking vibe, Bob.”

Rooster steps closer to the bed and grins down at him. “You’re lucky I struck out at the Hard Deck. I come home, barely get my shoes off, when I hear a scream. I go running back to your room just in time to knock your girl out. She ran headfirst into the door when I opened it.” He claps his hands together. “Down like a bag of rocks.”

Bob’s heart rate picks up, and the monitor registers it. Phoenix glances at the machine and snorts again.

“She’s fine,” she assures him. “I’ve been bouncing between you and her. It’s just slammed down there, so she’s been waiting for the doctor to release her.”

“She’s okay then?”

Phoenix nods. “Dislocated nose. Slight concussion. Embarrassed. Convinced she murdered you, until I set her straight.”

Bob smiles despite himself. “She thought I was dead?”

“She knocked you out,” Hangman cuts in. “And broke your nose.”

“You weren’t moving and there was blood everywhere,” Rooster adds.

“She also gave you grade two whiplash,” Phoenix continues. “And it looks like you’ll be sporting a pair of gnarly black eyes by morning.”

“Wow.” Bob breathes out a reedy whistle. “And you’re sure she’s okay?”

Phoenix nods again.

Rooster and Hangman offer to go grab some coffee from the hospital cafeteria, leaving Bob and his partner alone. Phoenix drags a chair over and settles closer to him, and Bob feels his mood sour little by little.

“Are you okay?” Phoenix finally asks.

He lifts his hand, drops it back onto the bed. “I guess it’s ruined now.”

“What is?”

“Our…arrangement. Mine and hers.”

She tilts her head. “How so?”

“She has all these rules. To keep it clean. To keep feelings out, you know?” He lifts his hand again, drops it again—the best version of a shrug he can manage. “I have to think that injuries requiring ambulances is an unwritten rule too.��

Phoenix stares at him, but a smile starts to creep across her face. She shakes her head then, grips his shoulder again.

“Do you love her, Bobby?” The question is asked softly, kindly.

Bob forgets the brace for a second and tries to nod. “Yeah.”

“You ever tell her?”

“Against the rules.”

“You ever tell her you wanted to revisit the rules, then?”

“No.”

Her smile widens. “You’re so fucking dumb, dude.”

*****

Hangman’s the one who stops to check in on you. He has a paper cup of coffee in each hand, and he holds both up to you.

“Wasn’t sure what you liked. One is black, one is cream and sugar.”

“Cream and sugar, please.”

He walks over to your bed and hands it to you, then studies you. You know you must look like hell—your eyes red from the hysterical crying of thinking yourself a murderer. Your nose—not broken, only dislocated—swollen and tender. And the general misery of how badly everything has turned out.

“You like the little nerd, huh?”

You take a sip of the coffee and thank him for it.

You don’t answer his question.

Hangman sighs, leans against the wall. “It’s just that, if you do, I’d like to know. I have a lot riding on it.”

“Huh?”

“There’s a pool about you and Baby on Board.” He sips his own coffee, smiles at you. “I want to know if I’m out money or if I have a payday coming.”

“You bet on us?”

He holds up a hand. “Whoa. All the Daggers bet on you. It wasn’t just me.”

You shake your head. “I don’t understand.”

“Some of us bet that you’d end up together. Others bet that you wouldn’t. Not that hard to understand.”

You try to take a steadying breath through your nose, which is an effort with how swollen it is. You look away from him and fix your eyes on the open doorway of your room. You watch the nurses and doctors scurry back and forth, the gurneys of hurt and sick people.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” you finally answer. “I nearly killed the guy. Is there a pool on that?”

Hangman laughs, and he settles in the chair near your bed. “You didn’t nearly kill him. You only lightly injured him. Then Bradley lightly injured you. It’s hilarious.”

You can only wince at his word choice. It’s not funny at all. Miramar is a gossipy hive of rumor, and Bob’s injuries will put him out of commission for at least a while—

“Is this gonna hurt his career at Top Gun?” you ask Hangman. You glance over at him and catch the way his expression softens at the angst in your voice. “Did I just fuck up his life completely?”

He reaches out and grasps your hand for a moment, gives you a friendly squeeze before he releases you. “Shit happens. The Navy knows that.”

“Still…”

“If anything, Bob’s gonna have some light duty, but he can do some systems work on the ground.” The smile reappears on his face, and he slyly adds, “and his cred just skyrocketed.” A beat. “The quietest Dagger just got his face rearranged by pussy. He’ll never have to buy his own drink again as long as he lives.”

“Jesus,” you groan, and you cover your face with your hands while Hangman laughs, but a second later the doctor enters your room and tells you that you are being released.

Hangman doesn’t take the hint and leave. He watches you sign off on your discharge papers, sips his coffee. He hands you your shoes, and he helpfully holds out your coat so you can slide into it.

“That little nerd loves you, you know,” he says suddenly. “It’s obvious as hell, which is why I laid a big bet on it.”

“He does?” The surprise in your voice makes him chuckle, then shake his head.

“Probably hard to see it from where you’re sitting, but he does. His dumb face lights up the minute he sees you, and when you aren’t around, he’s like a lost puppy. So if you feel even an inkling of the same for him, just go upstairs and put him out of his misery, okay?”

It feels like grace you don’t deserve. You hurt Bob, even if you hadn’t meant to, and for Hangman to offer this sliver of hope you don’t think you deserve—

You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes. Hangman doesn’t remark on them; he only stands by the doorway and waits for you.

“You’re a regular Cupid, Jake,” you offer.

“Nah.” He finishes off his coffee, crumples the cup, and tosses it in the nearby trash can. “I just want that fucking pool money.”

-----

The tears that threatened downstairs…they break free the moment you finally see him.

He looks awful. He looks…well, he looks like he pulled the full weight of an adult woman onto his face, pussy-first. His nose is swollen in a splint, he’s in a neck brace, and both eyes are so bruised that they can barely open beyond slits.

But his smile…

God, when he sees you, it’s just like Jake said: his poor, mangled face lights up, and his smile is so wide it looks like it might hurt. It hits you again, as it often does, how different he is from your usual type of man. That he loves to see you, is happy when he sees you, even injured. That he doesn’t need you around to fix his life, but he wants you around to just…be with you. Bob is no one that needs fixing; he just wants you there with him.

Phoenix and Rooster have the good sense to leave, ushering Hangman along with them. Bob, when he sees the tears coursing down your face, frowns and holds a hand out to you.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s fine,” he repeats. You make your way over to him and take his hand, and maybe it is okay. He holds you tight, his big, warm palm enfolding yours—

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You shake your head. You’re not okay at all. You don’t know if Jake was lying, but you can’t lie to Bob anymore just as you can’t lie to yourself.

“I broke one of the rules,” you admit. You watch him, wary. You have the sense of how he might react, but you can’t know for sure. You just have to push through and say it. Put it out there.

“I broke a rule too,” he replies. He squeezes your hand.

“Yeah?” It comes out shaky, unsure.

“Yeah.”

“Which rule?”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss to the back of it. He’s so damned soft, and you blink against the fresh tears that threaten to spill over your face.

“It’s your own fault,” he grumbles, but he smiles when he says it. “If you didn’t want me falling for you, you shouldn’t have been so easy to fall for.”

You laugh, a nervous sound that nudges up against the wall of tears you’re struggling to hold back. “Even though I almost killed you?”

“I mean, you didn’t almost kill me, but you definitely owe me for all this.” He gestures with his free hand at his face.

“You could make a claim against my insurance, I guess—”

“Just a date,” he interrupts. “I just want one date with you.”

“That’s it?” The sick feeling in your stomach starts to recede, and it’s replaced by the fluttery feeling of promise, of something new and wonderful starting.

“Just once chance to show you how good it could be.” His expression is dead serious, and he squeezes your hand again. “Me and you. For real this time.”

“I, uh…” You clear your throat and glance at his bright blue gaze, then look away. You fix your eyes on where your hands are joined together. Your hand fits perfectly in his.

“I’ve only ever dated assholes,” you admit. Another glance at him to see how he takes in your words. “Guys who don’t have their shit together. It’s why I wanted the whole…arrangement with you. I’ve never been with a man who didn’t need, like, intensive therapy. Or the occasional law enforcement intervention.”

“First time for everything,” Bob replies mildly.

“What if…what if I don’t know how to be in a relationship unless…unless…” You trail off, not sure how to say it without it sounding completely terrible…but then, the reality of your dating life has been completely terrible anyway.

“You afraid you don’t know how to be in a relationship unless you’re miserable?” he asks gently.

“Maybe?”

“Hmm.” He releases your hand but pats the space on his bed beside him. “I don’t know if I’d be comfortable making you miserable, honey.”

You perch awkwardly on the sliver of bed available to you, but Bob reaches up and gets a hand on your shoulder, tugs you gently down towards him. It’s careful maneuvering—a stark difference to what got you here—but you eventually get comfortable beside him, your cheek against his shoulder, your temple against the hard molded plastic of his brace. His hand finds yours again, and he threads his fingers through yours.

“What if we started with that one date you owe me?” he offers. “And then maybe a second date. I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated, and you see how it feels to not be miserable.”

One date, maybe a second.

“I think I can handle that,” you reply.

“Then a third date, then another.”

You smile. “Okay.”

“Maybe around, say, the fifth date, you can spend the night. Let me make you pancakes in the morning. Fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Okay.”

“Then after maybe a month, you could keep some stuff at my place. Shampoo, extra clothes. So you’re comfortable.”

“I could take you to my favorite taco place,” you offer. “Over in Imperial County.”

“I’d like that.” He shifts a little in the bed, then adds, “maybe around the six-month mark, you could meet my family.”

“Would they make me miserable?” you tease.

“Oh, they’d make your life a living hell,” he teases back. “My dad would give you this whole disgusting speech about how he always wanted another daughter, my mom would drop hints about my grandma’s engagement ring being set aside for me—”

“They sound horrible,” you laugh.

“The worst.” He chuckles, and a long moment of silence stretches between you, but it’s comfortable. His warm hand in yours, the quiet beeping of the machines monitoring him, the steady sound of his breathing…the slightly whistling quality of your own breathing through your swollen nose.

“You know, I’ve never taken a girl home to meet my family before,” he says, and his voice is serious. “Never even considered it before.”

You lift your head a bit to look at him, and you see the thoughtful quality of his expression. You settle back against him.

“And you’re considering it with the girl who broke your neck, broke your nose, and shamed you in front of the United States Navy?”

He chuckles again. “You didn’t break my neck and I’m not in trouble with the Navy,” he says. “And yes, I’ve considered it. First time for everything.”

He doesn’t add anything else, and the drama of the evening starts to hit you. You feel your eyes getting heavy, start to doze off in the hospital bed with him. His verb tense choice, though—he has considered it, past tense, not is considering it, present tense—makes you wonder how long Bob might have been breaking that rule…

Bob doesn’t say anything else, but he thinks it: he never took a girl home to his family because he vowed to only ever do it once—with the girl he plans to marry.

#tropes and tales #clear the inbox 2024 #kinktober2024 #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #top gun maverick

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naughtyneganjdm · 3 months ago

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The Proposition

Summary: You've been at The Sanctuary for a while after Negan saved you. You're a virgin and more than anything you want Negan to be your first. Sick of waiting to be noticed, you go to him and tell him what you want.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC, second person), Simon, Dwight, Regina, Laura, Gavin, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59682937

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, unprotected p in v, female reader, no use of Y/N, praise kink, loss of virginity, daddy kink, dirty talk, ice play, reader is in their 20s, etc.

Notes: This is day 7 to go with this kinktober list. The prompts this time were bitemarks, ice play and virgin. With this fic, I was a little sick of just flat out porn so I wanted to have it be sweeter. So it has more plot. Negan is more romantic and while he's still Negan with his mouth and actions, it's a more romantic...ish kinktober fic. PS, if you're allergic to peanut butter, I have the reader eat a peanut butter cup in this so I'm sorry if that offends you.

Everything around you was loud. But then again, people were always busy at The Sanctuary. You were seated in the dining hall to yourself. So many things had been on your mind lately and you never had any time to yourself to really think things over appropriately.

Hearing a stir, your eyes lifted to the second level seeing a few of The Saviors walking out near the ledge railing. That’s when your eyes fell on him. The man that people either loved or hated. There were no gray areas it seemed. And you understood both sides. However, with you, you swayed toward the side of actually liking Negan. When The Saviors were out on one of their runs a few months ago, you had been alone. They found you in an abandoned town, trapped with next to nothing. Everyone that had been with you had died and Negan was actually the person who had saved you. So people could say a lot of things about Negan and sometimes they were probably right. But you had a different experience with Negan.

Part of you was actually a little disappointed. There were certain women at The Sanctuary that Negan would bring back and ask to be his wives. That was what he referred to them as of course. You on the other hand, you wondered if he felt bad for you. Because unlike other people, he set you up with a room. Most people had to fight for that kind of thing. Or pay with their points that they earned. Sure, you were still working for points, but Negan had given you your own little apartment that had food and water in it. You were neither a Savior nor a wife. You were just there. Interactions with Negan were also incredibly rare. You tried to stand out to Negan and when you did catch his attention, it always got your heart kickstarted inside of your chest. Something about his smile drove you wild. It was safe to say you were incredibly attracted to Negan and not just because he saved your life. Looks wise, he was gorgeous. And personality? Well, he was arrogant and apparently? You were attracted to that too.

It was just disappointing that when he found you, he didn’t have enough interest in you to make you one of his wives. You had sat with a table of women that gossiped a lot about things at The Sanctuary. There were a lot of crazy things people would talk about. Some would say he slept with the wives. Others would say that he was gay and the wives were just a front. It was a little all over the place. But one thing they brought up once was how big Negan’s manhood was. One of them had caught Negan coming out of the showers once and she couldn’t stop talking about it. Of course people thought she was full of shit because they thought someone who was as arrogant as Negan was, he had to be making up for something he was lacking. But after that conversation, you found yourself staring a lot trying to determine what was honest.

There was one thing that you figured might have been a turn off in terms of yourself if Negan really was this ladies man that some people suggested that he was. You were a virgin. You had been alone for a long time and when the world fell to shit you were pretty tame in terms of things. But now that you were at The Sanctuary, your hormones were going crazy every time you saw Negan. A big part of you wanted Negan to be your first, but the fact that you rarely got his attention as it was made it hard for you to even approach Negan.

Your throat tensed up with Negan curling his fingers around the yellow railing looking down at the people below. There was a smile that tugged at his lips with Simon whispering something in his ear and you felt your throat go dry. God, you wanted him to notice you so fucking bad, but you knew that in a group this large? It was never going to happen. And if you hadn’t been asked by Negan to be one of his wives yet, there was a strong chance that he had no interest in you.

Tapping his hands against the yellow bar, Negan nodded back toward his office and you felt disappointed. You were right. He didn’t notice you. Finishing up your meal, you headed up to the second floor. That was where your room was and considering you got your work done for the day, you figured that you would just rest for what was left of it before you had to get started again.

As you made your way to your room, you stopped when you realized that Negan’s office door was open. A few of the men and women were standing around him. They were staring down at something that was spread out across the long table. Thinking things over, you felt both a rush of anxiety and bravery flood through your veins. You wanted to talk to Negan. Badly. But then again, he was surrounded by some of his top Saviors and they might punish you for interrupting them.

Stepping closer toward Negan’s office, you realized that the sudden sense of boldness you were feeling was just stupid. So you quickly stepped back and started to head back for your room. But then again, what if you did make your intentions known? The worst thing he could do was say no. And then you could work on shutting those feelings down instead of letting them linger.

Taking slow steps back toward Negan’s office, you stopped when you got to the door. Clearing your throat, you moved into the office and knocked faintly at the opened door. Well shit. A rush of panic flooded through your veins when every single one of the Saviors lifted their heads to stare out at you in confusion. They were all waiting on you, including Negan who had one eyebrow arched in curiosity. It was then that you noticed just beyond the map that they were looking at, on the edge of the table was Negan’s bat Lucille.

“What?” Simon snapped waving his hand about when you nervously moved forward into the room.

“Can I…can I speak with Negan?” you wondered, shoving your hands into your pockets nervously.

“Anything you have to say to Negan, you can say to us,” Regina stressed to you, standing up straight and moving forward from where she had been standing beside Negan. It was then you realized that Negan’s main lieutenants and council were who was in that room with him.

“Not exactly?” you breathed out, your voice quiet and you could tell that your answer annoyed The Saviors, but it amused Negan who had his hazel eyes locked on you. Resting back in his chair, Negan clicked his tongue at the top of his mouth and it made you shrug. “It’s personal.”

“Nothing is personal in The Sanctuary,” Dwight suggested from where he was standing beside Simon who nodded. “You aren’t a Savior, you don’t deserve respect. So either you tell us what you want or get the fuck out of here.”

“Dwighty boy!” Negan’s voice boomed, letting out a tsking sound and wiggling his finger about. “Let’s be nice to the lady. I do agree that anything she has to say to me can be said in front of my Saviors, but you don’t have to be a dick.”

“Yeah. Don’t be a dick Dwight,” Simon muttered under his breath, mocking Dwight when he playfully smacked his hand upside Dwight’s head who grunted.

“So what is it?” Laura threw her hands up in the air with all of their attention on you.

“I just wanted to ask him something,” you stressed, not sure you wanted to outright say what it was that you wanted.

“Then ask,” Simon hissed having you let out a nervous breath. Silence followed. How could you say this and not be embarrassed? “Negan, come on.”

“I want to have sex with Negan,” you blurt out, just letting it escape your lips. And by the expressions on everyone’s face, you suddenly felt ridiculous for letting it slip like that.

“Well goddamn,” Negan snickered, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. A few of the other Saviors’ faces had gone pale when Negan wiggled his fingers to beckon you closer into the office. “You are not what I pictured! You are very fucking forward. I like that. I like that a lot.”

Nodding your head once, you felt like the room was spinning around you and you swallowed down hard. Standing up from where he was seated, you felt your face get hot when Negan dragged his zipper down in his pants, “So you wanna do it right here?”

Your eyes dropped to Negan’s pants and your mouth went dry. Why did that just turn you on so fucking much? Thinking things over, you lifted your stare and saw that Negan’s hazel eyes were staring out at you expectantly. Starting to unhook his belt, Negan made a dramatic expression and held his hand out.

“I can take you right here,” Negan pointed to the table, his thick eyebrows bouncing in amusement. “I don’t think The Saviors would complain much. It’s been a long time since they’ve had a good show.”

“I don’t…” you looked between all The Saviors that were there. There were those that looked uncomfortable with the idea. Such as Gavin, Laura, Dwight and a few others. And then there were those like Simon that looked like he was all in for that idea. “I don’t want to do it like that.”

“No?” Negan frowned, tipping his head from side to side when he started to pull his belt back together. Following that, he pulled his zipper back up and snorted. Dropping down into his chair again, he kicked his feet up on the table and shrugged. “You got me all excited for nothing.”

“I’m…sorry?” you exhaled loudly realizing that everyone’s eyes were still on you. “Can we please just talk alone for a minute? I swear I won’t take up much of your time.”

Silence followed. It seemed like Negan was thinking it over, his dimples sucking in when he gazed over you and shrugged, “I don’t know. Are you gonna make it worth my time?”

“Maybe?” you didn’t know what to say to that and Simon scoffed in disbelief.

“Well what if you bore me? Then it would all be a waste of time,” Negan stammered, waving his hand about in the air dramatically.

“I’ll show you my breasts?” you offered, immediately regretting it when you said it realizing that it probably sounded ridiculous. Why were you suddenly so…forward?

“Deal,” Negan snorted, circling his finger to point at The Saviors and motion for them to leave the room. “I get the feeling she doesn’t want to flash her breasts in front of the rest of you motherfuckers. So if you will, please give us a few moments. I’m not gonna turn down the chance to see a pair of titties.”

God, did he really just refer to your breasts as titties? He was immature as fuck. And yet? You were still attracted to him.

A few of The Saviors were leaving the room, but there were a few stragglers. Specifically Simon who had stopped before he left, “Why do I have to go?”

“I already made the deal Simon. And it didn’t involve you. Everyone get the hell out and close the door behind you,” Negan demanded, hooking his fingers together in his lap. Once the door closed, Negan looked to you expectantly and flashed you a big smile. “So…”

You went to step forward, but Negan made a whistling sound and shook his head. Motioning you to stay where you were, Negan dragged his tongue out across his bottom lip and hummed to himself, “You promised to show me your breasts. You go first so that way you can’t back out of it after we’ve had the conversation that you want.”

“Seriously?” you felt a rush go to your head and you felt kind of embarrassed. You weren’t exactly dressed spectacular and you didn’t even know if Negan would really make you go through with it. With a very dramatic nod, Negan’s eyelids grew heavy and he gave you an expecting glance.

Swallowing down hard, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and Negan held his finger up to stop you, “I’ll tell you when you can cover up.”

Mustering up as much confidence as you could, you started to lift the bottom of your shirt up over your abdomen. Negan’s eyes followed the movement of your shirt and when you got to your bra, you hooked your fingers into that as well. The cool chill of the air around you had you releasing a shuddering breath when you pulled the material up over your body right to the bottom of your neck.

Negan didn’t say anything. His eyes were just gazing upon you and you couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw or not. Gradually, a smile tugged at his handsome features and he tipped his head to the side, “That’s a nice pair of tits. They look good on you.”

“Thanks,” you slurred, your pulse leaping in your throat with Negan’s eyes still focused on your body.

“So you want to have sex with me, huh?” Negan questioned, his eyebrows bouncing up and for the first time, his eyes lifted from your bare breasts to connect with yours. “How old are you?”

“I’m in my twenties,” you explained wishing the room was a bit warmer because you could feel your nipples growing hard. Well, you assumed it was from the temperature of the room. But it might have been the fact you were like this in front of Negan and in a weird fashion, it was turning you on.

“Okay,” Negan replied back leaving you to wonder how long he wanted you to stand there like this. “Well your tits are definitely a pair I’d like to play with for a while. So I can’t see your offer being a bad one. My dick is hard now. Do you wanna just fuck right here?”

“Is that what you want?” your eyes lowered down toward his pants in attempts to get a look at his body. It had him snapping his fingers to get you to look back at him with him pointing toward his eyes as if it was offensive you were looking there.

“I would have happily plowed you in front of The Saviors,” Negan reminded you with a half laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “I like when a woman isn’t afraid to tell you what they want. That turns me the fuck on. I never saw you as the type, but that’s okay. I like to be fucking surprised.”

Every word out of Negan’s mouth was annunciated in a very dramatic manner. Hearing that had the room spinning around you, “Tell me what you like.”

“What I like?” you repeated feeling your face flushing over with heat. Would you tell him the truth? You were a virgin. You didn’t know what the hell you liked. Or would you lie?

“Yeah. Sexually,” Negan stammered, shrugging his shoulders when he spoke. “Do you like it rough? Do you like anal? Can I finger your asshole while I fuck you? Is your favorite position face down with your ass in the air? Do you want to be fucked so hard that my balls smack against your clit?”

Your lips parted and it made him snicker. You must have gone flush, “or are you more of a…I want to ride your cock kind of girl? It’s hard to read. Because when I found you, I thought you would be the innocent type. You seemed shy. Then you come in here asking for sex and I don’t know what to think. Do you ask every man that you want to have sex with to sleep with you like that?”

“I uh…” this was it. This was where you had to determine whether you were going to be honest with him or not. “Can I put my shirt down?”

“Not yet. Answer the question,” Negan demanded, his eyes dropping back down toward your breasts again.

“I’ve never had sex,” you answered honestly with Negan’s smile gradually fading. God, you shouldn’t have been honest with him. Forcing himself to look away from you, Negan’s response to your answer made you regret it. “I’m willing to do whatever you want though.”

“Put your shirt down,” Negan demanded and you did as you were told. Silence surrounded you both. Now Negan wouldn’t even look at you. Taking the hint, you nodded and started to head for the door, but he called out to you. “Where are you going? Take a seat.”

Glancing back over your shoulder at Negan, you saw that he was pointing toward the seat that was closest to him at the side of the long table. Obeying, you were careful in the way you slowly lowered yourself down.

“You’re a virgin?” he confirmed with you, but you didn’t know if you wanted to focus on that now since it seemed to turn him off. Well, you were doomed now. Best to be honest. Nodding once had Negan biting down on his bottom lip. “In your twenties?”

Suddenly you felt embarrassed when you looked away from Negan. You said nothing. Yeah. It wasn’t like you were a church girl or someone incredibly innocent, life just didn’t work out for you and you were more so focused on studies and working than you were having a party life.

“And you want me to take your virginity?” Negan pushed further at the subject. You still weren’t looking at him, you just nodded. “Why?”

“I like you,” you answered honestly, your confidence not as much as before with his response to your truth about being a virgin.

“Why?” he asked again. This time he was a bit firmer with his words.

“You’re good looking. I mean, anyone with eyes could see that. I’m very attracted to you,” you explained and as you spoke Negan unhurriedly pulled his legs down from the table. Each foot hit the ground hard with his boots making an echo in the empty room. “And? You saved me. You took me in. You took care of me when no one else did. I almost died and you were my hero.”

Hearing that had Negan’s hazel eyes lifting to yours and his eyes narrowed, “I don’t think you’d hurt me. And if you did? I’d be glad that it was you that it happened with because I don’t want to lose it to someone else. You’re really the first person I’ve had an interest in since the world fell to shit. I like you. A lot. And I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

“I see,” Negan leaned back into his chair and he seemed deep in contemplation. “Yeah. Okay. Tonight after I’m done doing all the shit I have to, I’ll come to your room. Around nightfall. Tomorrow? You’ll no longer be a virgin. So you won’t have that stigma hanging around your head.”

“Tonight?” you felt excited that he said yes. Giving you a small nod had you standing up from the bed. “Okay.”

“Hey,” Negan called out when you headed to the door. You knew that if it was tonight that he wanted to do it, you would have to prepare for things. Standing up from where he was seated, Negan undid the zipper of his leather jacket. Reaching for the bottom of the white shirt he was wearing, he lifted his shirt up right under his chest revealing his naked torso to you. “Since you showed me yours, I figured I would show you mine. Just to help carry you over for tonight.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the amused expression that was over Negan’s features with his nose wrinkling. Taking a good look over his torso, you knew that you would much rather see it up close since you spotted the tattoo that covered his pectoral muscle.

“Those look good on you,” you couldn’t help but mirror what he said eliciting a snort from Negan who gave a firm nod. “I like what I see.”

“Thank you,” Negan looked down over his abdomen and then slowly lifted his head to give you a wink. “I’m proud of them. So I’m glad that you like them.”

“You can lower your shirt now,” you smirked making Negan laugh and give you a single nod.

“Yes ma’am,” Negan grumbled under his breath and it took your breath away. Lowering his shirt, Negan gave you a single wink and then dropped back down into his chair. “You can have The Saviors come back in by the way.”

“How am I going to find all of them?” you reached for the door wondering where each of them would go.

“Oh honey, they never left,” Negan stressed to you leaving you to open the door. Upon opening the door, you felt a rush of frustration flooding your veins seeing that every single one of them had been pressed up against the door or near in trying to listen in on what was happening. Everyone except for Dwight and Laura that was. Dwight was probably irritated and Laura was just trying to give you your space.

“Nice,” you growled under your breath, pushing through them to get out of the office. Why weren’t you surprised at all by that?

A mixture of fear and excitement flooded through your veins. You really didn’t have anything spectacular in terms of clothes, so you spent the points you did have to get a really nice set of lingerie for Negan that you hoped he’d like. The colors you had focused on were red and black, but ultimately went with the black since that’s what Negan put his wives in. You’d have to not eat very well for the next few days, but you wanted to make him happy. You had also grabbed a pair of leather cuffs. The person you got them from probably thought you were a bit of a freak, but with what you heard about Negan? You wanted to be prepared and give him what he wanted. You wanted to make a good impression. You showered, used the perfume that you still had from your personal items when you came here and then put on the lingerie.

At nightfall, you waited, laid stretched out on the bed waiting for Negan. Again, you wanted to be sexy for Negan. Give him a reason to appreciate you and not regret agreeing to this whole thing. It was a while after nightfall by the time you heard a knock at your door. You had gotten nervous that he didn’t want to do this whole thing after he considered it.

Curling your arms behind your head, you cleared your throat and did your best to pose sexy as you beckoned him into your room. As the door opened, Negan’s expression became more so amused when he entered your bedroom seeing the way you were.

“Wow,” he snickered, closing the door behind him and tipping his head to the side. “Did you have that?”

“I bought it today for you with the points that I earned,” you explained arching your back up attempting to bring attention to your breasts. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” Negan muttered, sucking on his bottom lip and moving to the bottom of the bed. Gazing you over, he looked beside the bed and saw the leather cuffs that were sitting on the nightstand. “What are those?”

“I got those too,” you pulled yourself up unhurriedly into a seated position. Reaching for the cuffs, you handed them to Negan who accepted them and looked them over with a smirk. “People gossip and say things, you know? So I figured you’d like those.”

“People gossip?” Negan repeated, sitting down on the edge of the bed spinning the handcuffs around his finger. Sliding in closer to Negan, you started to caress at his shoulders eliciting a heavy exhale to fall from his lips. “What do the people say?”

“It depends on who you ask,” you responded, doing your best to get Negan to relax. Depositing a kiss over the side of his neck had a sharp exhale falling from his lips. Dragging your hands across his chest had him leaning further back into you. Using that moment, you pushed your hands down over his abdomen and he groaned out. Fuck, that was actually really hot. “Someone mentioned you being really…big.”

Brazenly, you dropped your hand to the center of Negan’s pants palming in over his pants. It had a raspy moan following and it had chills running down your spine that you could draw something that sexy out of a man you were this attracted to.

Surprise filled your body with Negan’s fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you from touching him, “Does a big dick really matter to a virgin?”

Negan looked over his shoulder to connect his eyes with yours and you shrugged, “I imagine it feels better.”

“You’re a virgin. I hate to break it to you, but it will hurt the first time a cock goes inside of you. Whether it’s big or average sized. Depending on the person you’re with, it’s either gonna hurt a lot or it’s gonna be uncomfortable until you start to get used to it and it feels good. You’re gonna need someone to relax you. Prepare you and it feels like you just want me to fuck the shit outta you.”

Standing up from the bed, Negan shoved his hands into his pockets after tossing the cuffs onto the bed, “Where in the porn hub loving instructional guide did you come up with this stuff?”

A laugh fell from Negan’s throat and you felt embarrassed again. You didn’t know whether you should cover up or not as you slid back on the bed, “Now don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the lingerie, but whatever you spent on this I’ll make sure they give you back the points. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be about making me happy. It should be about making you comfortable and giving you an experience that isn’t a terrible one. Having me cuff you and fuck you raw is not gonna be the optimal experience. It may be on porn hub or in those racy romance novels, but it’s not realistic. Is that what you really think I’m like?”

“Can you blame me after the way you talked earlier?” you reminded him of how he talked to you before you revealed to him that you were a virgin. “You sounded like someone right out of a porno asking me what I liked.”

“Well that’s when I thought you were a little slutty,” Negan defended himself, placing his hand over the center of his chest. “But you’re not. Not that I would have a problem with anyone being slutty. I mean, I have no right to judge. Slutty can be sexy, but you’re also sexy the way that you are.”

“I’m confused,” you announced, your heart racing at the idea of what he was saying. “So do you want to have sex or not?”

“Just put your clothes on,” Negan ordered, spinning his finger around in a circle. It had you confused and somewhat disappointed. “We’re still gonna have sex, but not like this. Not like something right out of a porno.”

Getting up, you headed over toward your dresser, but Negan cleared his throat, “You can leave the lingerie on underneath though. I do…I do actually really like those.”

Well at least that was a success. Getting dressed in a sundress that you had, you wanted to make sure that you were wearing as little as possible for Negan to take off when the time came. Holding his hand out for you as you approached, you accepted Negan’s hand and were surprised by his actions. This was not the man that the women gossiped about in The Sanctuary. Chivalry actually existed in some fashion with Negan.

Leading you out of your room, Negan led you to the stairs at The Sanctuary which surprised you since you knew that Negan’s room was on the same level as yours. Following Negan carefully up the steps, you wanted to ask questions, but you didn’t. Once he reached the roof, Negan pushed open the door to reveal that there was a bonfire that he had set up with two chairs not too far away from it.

“A night out under the stars?” you looked to Negan who flashed you a big cheesy smile while he held the door open for you.

“After you my dear,” Negan growled, holding his hand out and motioning you toward the area that was set up. Once he closed the door behind him, Negan held his hand out to you leading you over toward the area to sit down. He made sure you sat first before taking a seat beside you. “It’s a little chilly, but the sky is full of stars and I thought maybe you would want to talk first.”

“Suddenly I regret wearing this dress,” you confessed with a tiny laugh and it had Negan looking you over. There was a chill in the air and if you would have known you may have grabbed a longer shirt to throw over the dress. Getting up from his seat, Negan started to shimmy out of his leather jacket and you immediately shook your head when he motioned you to stand up. “No, I couldn’t…”

“You can and you will,” Negan commented firmly. By the expression on his face, you knew what he wanted, so you gave it to him. Accepting the gesture, you allowed him to help you put the jacket on you before lowering down. Negan waited for you to sit before he sat himself. Pulling the jacket in closer to you, you actually enjoyed the way that it smelled because it smelled clean and fresh. Also the scent of whatever cologne he wore was lingering over the jacket and it was amazing. You hadn’t really been this up close and personal to Negan to be able to smell him before. “Better?”

“Much,” you nodded your head with Negan leaning back and looking up toward the sky. “You’re not what I thought you were.”

“I’m probably exactly who you think I am, but there are just other parts to me that people don’t take the time to know,” Negan huffed, dropping his head dramatically and turning it to look at you. “I know it’s my own fault, but I’m not the kind of guy that finds out someone is a virgin and then I fucking destroy their pussy so they never enjoy sex again.”

It made you smile to hear Negan talking like that, “I am curious what people say about me though. Who are you hearing stuff from?”

“Women gossip,” you explained, sliding your chair in closer to the fire. You weren’t going to give out names, but then again, you really didn’t know their names. “I’ve heard people say you are this sex fiend that will fuck anything and everything that moves. That your wives are your sex slaves that you come and grab whenever you’re horny and want to fuck.”

A deep rumble of a laugh fell from Negan’s throat, his fingers grasping tightly to the edges of the chair that he was seated in, “They are a status symbol.”

“Come again,” you exhaled loudly with Negan’s eyebrows bouncing up.

“I don’t have sex with them. I mean, I’ve had sex with a few of them, but it wasn’t the whole you’re my sex slave and I’m coming to pick you today thing you just said,” Negan waved his hand about, shrugging his shoulders as he spoke. “I’m okay with people thinking that though. When you think of a man in power, a king, all of them had lots of wives. It’s a status symbol. People look up to you and admire you. Want to be like you. So they listen, get into line having hopes of being like you one day if you take them under your wing.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, surprised to hear him talking like that. “That’s kind of lame, you know that right?”

“I’m a man, I’m kind of lame,” Negan stressed with a rumbling laugh, shaking his head when he reached out for one of the things that was set up beside his chair.

“Which ones?” you wondered getting Negan to look back at you. “Which ones have you slept with?”

“You really wanna know that?” Negan stammered, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. When you nodded, he sat back and you realized that he had the ingredients to make smores in his hands. “Well, before I was here, I was in a group of people. Dwight and Sherry were part of that group. And the two of us had an affair. Although, sex with her lately is not really a thing. She’s hot, but her attitude sucks. I think she likes having the power that comes with being a wife. And I let her have it. I don’t really know why. And then I had sex with Frankie. Before she was a wife, I was really into the whole she was a massage therapist thing. I wanted a massage, an innocent one at first and she just kind of crawled on top of me and…”

“I can picture the rest,” you held your hand up to stop him and it made Negan snort. “Then why are you so…I don’t know? Protective and dickish about them? People think you abuse them. Rape them by coercion.”

“You can’t rape someone if you aren’t fucking them,” Negan responded an annoyed breath escaping his throat. “I don’t rape people. If someone doesn’t want to have sex with me, they don’t. When I ask these women to be my wives, I’m giving them special treatment. They receive things that most people don’t. They don’t have to work for it. They don’t have to fuck me. They just have to sit there and look pretty. Do what I ask. No one is hurting them. I’ve never laid a finger on them. And I’m certainly not fucking them against their will. Tonya, I have an appreciation for a professional chef. Amber, she wanted favors and you know that people would find a girl like Amber beautiful. Frankie, my back is shit. There is a trait each one of them has that I appreciate having in my back pocket and it’s not their lady bits.”

“I see,” you watched while Negan put together a smore. You saw him unwrapping a peanut butter cup and he went to put it on the smore before thinking twice.

“Are you allergic?” Negan inquired, pointing to it. Shaking your head had him letting out a thankful breath before continuing to put together his version of a smore. “Don’t go telling people that I’m not as bad as I seem, okay?”

“Deal,” you snickered, watching as he worked to roast the marshmallow over the fire. “Why didn’t you make me one of your wives?”

“Sorry?” Negan didn’t seem to be too focused on what you were asking working to put together a smore. Handing it out to you, he gave you another big smile as you accepted it from him. With the melted marshmallow over his fingers, he sucked at the tips of them and sighed.

“Why didn’t you make me one of your wives?” you repeated your question and it seemed to make Negan nervous when he started to construct his smore. “Am I not appealing to you?”

“I can find something attractive in pretty much anyone, I’m not particular,” Negan informed you with a long exhale, his eyes gazing over you in a moment of longing. “But I do find you very attractive. So it has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what did it have to do with?” you inquired since you had felt kind of worried about the whole thing to begin with.

“I like you,” Negan answered, his lips parting after he started to roast his marshmallow. “I don’t often get to be someone’s hero. The way you looked at me when I brought you here? It’s been a long time since someone looked at me in a positive light. I think I’m helping people here, but you? I actually did protect you. I kept you safe. You wouldn’t look at me like that anymore if I made you one of the wives. The less you knew about me, the better because the more you knew me the higher the chance that you might start to hate me.”

That took your breath away. In that moment you wanted to do nothing more than to kiss him. Grasping at Negan’s jaw, you pulled him in toward you and brought your lips together. Your quickness surprised him, but he didn’t turn away the kiss. No, he was welcoming to it. Leaning in closer to you over the arm of the chair. You let it linger with Negan turning it into small kisses at your bottom lip.

As you separated, Negan dragged his thumb across your bottom lip with a hum, “I don’t want the way you look at me to change.”

“It won’t,” you hushed him, turning in to press a kiss over his pulse point.

“You can’t promise that,” Negan stated with a frown, using his free hand to sweep his fingers down over your jawline. “I’m not a good man. I will let you down. The further you’re away from me, the better.”

“I’d rather be let down than to never share moments with you,” you explained with a sigh, closing your eyes at the sensation of his rough fingertips tracing over your features. Another sweet, delicate kiss was pressed at your lips before Negan sat back in his chair again. Taking a bite of your smores, you hummed and gave a nod. “I like the addition of the peanut butter cups.”

“I really like peanut butter,” Negan confessed taking a big bite of his sweet treat that he had made for himself. “I’m sorry for making you flash me your tits earlier.”

“I offered,” you couldn’t help but laugh, finishing off your snack with Negan chuckling underneath his breath. “Plus, you flashed me your tits so I think we’re equal.”

“It’s not the same,” Negan insisted with an amused rumble, outstretching his hand to loosely hook his fingers with yours. “I liked that it made you smile though.”

The two of you continued to talk about random odds and ends with Negan getting to learn more about you before you both agreed to leave. Negan didn’t say much as he led you down the stairs. When you passed your room, you knew that Negan was leading you to his bedroom and that excited you. Pushing open the door, Negan looked inside as if to make sure something was right before allowing you in.

Stepping into his bedroom took your breath away. The only light that filtered through the room was that of many candles that had been lit. At the center of the bed were a rose pedals and there was a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket on the nightstand.

“You slammed me for my porn hub fantasy, but this is something right out of a cheesy romance film,” you commented, sucking in a sharp breath of air with Negan moving in behind you to place his hands in over your hips. The roughness of his short beard tickled at the side of your neck with his lips descending over your flesh.

“Shut up, you fucking love it,” Negan chuckled against your neck and it sent chills down your spine. “Losing your virginity like this is so much better than what you thought you needed to do.”

“Unless we burn down the place,” you teased, turning in Negan’s arms to tip up on your toes to meet him in a passionate sweep that had you purring against his perfect lips. Pushing his fingers up underneath his leather jacket, Negan let it drop at your feet. Palming down over your arms, Negan took his time to trace over your body having you a shuddering mess by the time his hands met yours to hook your fingers together.

Pulling you close, Negan allowed your head to rest at the center of his chest where you listened to the sound of his steady heartbeat. Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the way it sounded. It made you feel comfortable and in his arms you felt safe.

Soft strokes of Negan’s fingers were felt at the back of your head before tracing down over the lengths of your back. He was doing what he could to soothe and comfort you. Locking his eyes with yours, Negan started to work your dress up over your body. Helping him get it off, you felt your body tremoring once you were standing before him in your lingerie again.

Taking the initiative, you shakily reached out to grab the bottom of Negan’s white t-shirt. Raising it up his body, you stopped when you reached his arms and he gave you a weak smile. Lifting his arms up, he helped you get the perfectly clean shirt from his body where you dropped it beside your dress. Closing the distance, you flattened your palms out over the center of Negan’s chest. Sliding them out toward his shoulders had his long eyelashes fluttering to a close. This gave you time to appreciate his body and actually get to look at it. Tracing over the tattoo that was on his pectoral muscle, you couldn’t help but be in awe of his body. You actually appreciated the hidden tattoos that you didn’t know were there originally.

“I’m not the typical romance novel lover,” Negan informed you with a bob of his head and you smirked. Dragging your fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered his chest down lower toward his navel and back again had his breathing growing loud.

“You’re my perfect version,” you assured him, sweeping your fingers over the soft fleshy part of his abdomen just beneath his bellybutton.

“You take my breath away,” Negan reached for your hand to bring it up over the center of his chest. Grasping it tightly, Negan closed the distance between the two of you and swallowed down hard. Bringing your lips together again, you parted your lips allowing his tongue to brush in against yours. The taste of the sweet snack lingered and it made you hum.

“You taste sweet,” you muttered against his lips which made him smile. Working your hands down, you started to pull apart the belt in Negan’s pants. Not rushing, you knew you wanted to drag this out. Negan wanted the same thing. By the time you got his pants undone, you slid your fingers up over Negan’s lower abdomen toward his sides and then came to a stop at his lower back. Pushing into the material had it falling to his ankles. Sliding your palms over his small bottom had him groaning out with you grasping firmly to it.

“Come here,” Negan growled, hooking his arms around you to have you falling in against his chest. Sliding his hands down over your back toward your bottom, he did a similar movement as you, testing the flesh in his large palms. “We match.”

Stealing a glance between the two of you, you noticed from the light that was there that he was wearing black boxer briefs. Giving him a nod, you began to press kisses over his jawline, down over his neck and toward the center of his chest.

“No,” Negan slurred, reaching for you and carefully urging you back up to him. Managing to kick out of his boots and swiftly pull off his socks, Negan led you over toward the bed and lowered you down at the center of it. “I want this to be perfect for you. There is not a lot of that in the world anymore.”

“Perfect is having you Negan,” you stressed to him how you felt and it genuinely made him smile. Not an arrogant smile like you were used to. One that expressed a sense of feeling good about himself.

“Do you want any champagne?” Negan wondered eliciting a giggle from you as he crawled in over you. “What?”

“Not now. I just want you,” you explained, caressing up over his chest toward his shoulders to hook your hands behind his neck. It drew him to you with you stealing a desperate kiss from his lips. Carefully laying in beside you, Negan continued to kiss you with his fingers caressing up over your thigh.

For a while the two of you just kissed. Getting used to one another. And you liked it. Even if this was all you got today, you didn’t think you would be disappointed. The way that Negan touched you and made you feel like the center of his world was phenomenal. It’s not what you expected from Negan, but you were happy with this surprise.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Negan breathed against your lips, his fingers trailing up from your navel up between the valley of your breasts. Hovering his lips over yours, Negan smiled and urged you to lift up slightly so he could reach around you to unhook your bra. As soon as the material parted, you lowered back down to the bed letting Negan tug at the material. Getting it down your arms, he dropped it beside the bed and then gave you a smile. Unhurriedly, he slid his palm across the underside of your breasts. Cupping softly at one of them, Negan kissed faintly at your bottom lip and hummed. When his thumb ran across your nipple, you arched up into his touch. The sensation swept circles around it bringing it to a hard nub. Chills ran down your spine, your lips parted and a whimpering sound escaped your throat. “Are you okay?”

Giving Negan a nod, you knew that you were nervous, but you didn’t need to tell him that. Lowering down, Negan started to pepper kisses at your jawline, down over your neck and toward your collarbone. Chills flooded through your body, soft pants escaping you while you caressed at the back of Negan’s head. Moving in over you, Negan braced his weight to keep you comfortable as he started to press kisses between your breasts. Kissing everywhere had you arching up toward him and by the time his mouth covered your breast you moaned out. Glancing up at you with his hazel eyes, Negan made sure you were comfortable while his mouth and tongue pampered that breast before moving to the other.

Stroking down over Negan’s long back and then back up again, you were in total awe of Negan. It seemed like he was enjoying himself while he pampered your breasts with kisses. With a final slurping sound, Negan lifted his head and his eyes looked beyond you to the bucket of ice that was holding the champagne. Reaching out, he grabbed a piece of ice and you gasped when a few drops of the water covered your flesh.

“Cold?” he smirked, the bridge of his nose wrinkling when you gave a nod. Sucking in a sharp breath, you prepared yourself when Negan brought down his hand to lightly trace shapes over your flesh with the piece of ice he was holding. Keeping his eyes hooked on yours, Negan traced the ice over your nipple having you cry out with the sensation. A wolfish smile tugged at his lips when he pulled the ice away. Covering your breast with his mouth allowed a vast contrast between the cold and the warmth of his tongue. Slurping at your flesh, Negan repeated the motion on your other breast having you a whimpering mess beneath him. Nipping at your skin, Negan hummed and started to trace shapes down over your ribcage toward your belly button. “Good girl.”

Trembling beneath Negan, your lips parted with Negan returning what was left of the ice. Placing his hand back over your lower abdomen, Negan kept his eyes locked on yours when he started to push it down between your thighs. Your lips parted, a small whimper escaping you when he fully palmed in over your warmth.

Dropping your head to watch him caressing at your body had your heart hammering inside of your chest, but Negan hushed you and urged you to look back to him, “I want you to keep looking at me. Don’t watch that.”

So you obeyed. You locked your eyes with his, a gasp escaping you when he lifted his hand for a moment to press his fingers beneath your black panties that you had specifically worn for him. The direct contact of his rough fingertips with your sensitive flesh had your hips arching up toward him. There was something about the way that Negan looked at you that made you feel like the only person in the world in that moment and you loved the feelings it brought forth from inside of you.

“If you ever get uncomfortable at any point tonight, just let me know and we’ll stop,” Negan instructed, his fingers tracing slowly up over the lengths of your sex and it had you cooing out. Nodding, you knew that you weren’t going to be asking him to stop regardless of how things went tonight. You wanted this and you wanted this bad. Nothing was going to stop you from having it. Getting up to his knees, Negan hooked his fingers into your panties, unhurriedly tugging them down your body. Even then, he never took his eyes off yours wanting to watch your every reaction to things. Dropping your panties beside the bed, Negan returned to caress at your calf muscle up toward your thigh. “You’re fucking perfect. Y’know that?”

“I’m happy with anything as long as I’m yours,” you knew that sounded probably very dramatic, but you didn’t care. Plus, he seemed to enjoy the answer you gave him when he lowered back closer to you to steal another lingering, passionate kiss from your lips that progressed into a dominant one with his tongue brushing against yours.

“Can I kiss you somewhere else?” Negan slurred against your flesh. The question alone made you shake and you gave him another nod. Peppering kisses over your body again, he started at the side of your neck, over your chest and toward your lower abdomen. This time he went beyond down over your hip, toward your thigh and near the inside of your knee while he pushed at your thighs to give himself enough room to lower down onto his stomach. With him so close to the most personal parts of your body, you felt nervous. This was everything you wanted and more, but this was definitely a first for you. “Just relax. I’m a professional.”

The smile Negan gave you took your breath away with him urging your thighs up. He lowered himself between them. Wet kisses started at the inside of your thigh and he was slow to progress them toward your sex. With the first drag of his tongue across your folds, it had you shaking. Occasionally Negan would lift his eyes to watch your reaction to things as he would drag his tongue up and then down. Repeating the movements until his lips latched faintly to your clit suckling at the flesh.

“Negan,” you purred out his name, your hand lowering to brush your fingers through his hair. Humming out against your body, Negan’s tongue circled your sensitive bundle of nerves and it had your heart hammering inside of your chest. Biting down on your bottom lip, you couldn’t take your eyes off him while he pleasured you. The short stubble of his beard added to the friction against your flesh and you were addicted to the feeling. Involuntarily, your hips rocked against him very much enjoying the way it felt having him kissing, suckling and licking at your flesh.

“Good?” Negan leaned back with a wet sound, dragging his tongue out across his lips releasing a moan himself at the way you tasted. You couldn’t form words. That was pretty much impossible, so you gave him another nod. It made him smile before lowering back down to continue what he was doing. The amount of pressure he was using with his mouth had your heart hammering inside of your chest and you dropped your head back. Your thighs were shaking against Negan and you felt him reaching for your hands to hook his fingers with yours. Moaning out, your eyes slammed shut. The sound of Negan groaning against your flesh added to the sensation with you shaking further against him. Squeezing tighter at Negan’s fingers, you couldn’t believe how good it actually felt. “That’s it.”

Lifting your head, your breathing was broken with the room spinning around you. Negan had just brought you to your first orgasm and it was incredible. Breath taking. But he wasn’t done. His right hand pulled from yours, his fingers tracing lines from your entrance to your clit before back again. Teasing his fingertips at your entrance, Negan lifted his eyes up to watch you when his index finger sank into you. Just like everything else, this was slow drawing you to coo out and moan out his name. His eyelids grew heavy with want, his lips parting and a muscle flexing in his jaw with how tight you were from this alone. Starting off slow, he started to finger you watching your every reaction to it. Whining out when he added a second finger made him moan before he lowered his head again to start suckling at your clit to add to the sensation of him fingering you.

Flicks of his tongue had your hips rocking against him and the steady pace of his fingers thrusting into you felt like nothing you had ever experienced before. This was amazing and you loved every bit of it. The sounds he was drawing out from within you were loud and seemed to make him moan against your sensitive flesh while he pleasured you. You didn’t know if you should be embarrassed from how loud you were being, but he didn’t seem to mind.

There was a certain spot inside of you that as soon as Negan kept caressing at it with his fingertips, it had you a shaking mess beneath him. Once you started reacting a certain way? Negan picked up on it immediately and continued at the same tempo he had set with his fingers. Switching between suckling and licking at your clit.

“Negan, I feel like I’m going to…” before you could say anything else, your hips shakily pulled up and away from him. Groaning out, Negan still kept his fingers wrapped around your thighs while you tremored against him. Your heart felt like it was about to pound right out of your chest. It was the closest you felt to passing out with your thighs tremoring. “I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Negan snickered, trailing kisses up over your inner thigh and toward your hip when he crawled back in over you. “That’s supposed to happen. It’s a sign of a job well done. Not every man can make you do that and not every woman has that kind of orgasm.”

“Fuck,” you lifted your head to look between the two of you trying to catch your breath. “That was amazing.”

“I know,” Negan nipped at your jawline, leaving tiny bites along your flesh. Grabbing a faint hold of your neck, Negan tipped your head back and it made you wince. The next bite he placed over your neck would leave a mark but you didn’t care considering you wanted to be his. And if you had something that proved it? Even better.

“I want you,” you panted with him tipping his head back to stare out at you. “I’ve never wanted something more.”

Lazily getting up to his knees, Negan held his hands out in the air and it made your throat go dry. His breathing was strong, showing the lines of his abdomen. Your attention fell to the v-line over his hips that led to the top of his black boxer briefs and it made your mouth water at the sight of him.

“Then have me,” Negan offered, his hazel eyes watching you closely when you lifted up on your hands. It was hard because you were still shaking pretty much everywhere. Caressing up over his sides, you started to pepper kisses at his lower abdomen appreciating that he stroked at the back of your head while you kissed over his slender form. Curling your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs, you pulled softly at it. Not wanting to rush, your lips followed the movement of the material down over his body which had him moaning out. When you reached the base of his cock, you tipped your head back and stared up at him. With his free hand, he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip. Giving a final tug had his boxer briefs pulling to his thighs with his erection bouncing free from behind the constrictive material.

“Fuck,” you leaned further back to gaze over Negan’s length, stealing a look up at him. “I thought you said you were average, not big.”

“I never said that,” Negan slurred, dropping his free hand to stroke at his rigid length letting out a tense breath. “I said it didn’t make sense for you to want to have a big dick for your first time. I thought that might have been the only reason you picked me. Now I know otherwise. Don’t let it scare you. I wouldn’t hurt you. It’s above average, but I know what I’m doing.”

Shakily reaching out, your hand replaced his to stroke at his member in slow, unhurried movements. It had his head dropping back, the vein at the side of his neck slightly bulging and you smiled, “It’s thick.”

“I know,” Negan commented, lowering his head back down to sweep his thumb over your jawline. There was an amused expression over his features when a big, toothy smile pressed in over his lips. Taking initiative, you got up on your knees and heard his breathing grow uneven. At first, you pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses at his hips until bringing your lips to the base of Negan’s cock to start there. Peppering kisses down the length of his shaft toward the tip had him bouncing his hips forward toward you. “You’re just jumping in?”

“You’ll let me know if you don’t like something,” you breathed against his sensitive flesh having him shake against you with the way your words vibrated against his cock. Flattening your tongue out against his flesh, you licked at his body like he was your own personal lollipop and his moans were glorious. You traced at the prominent veins, circled the ridges over the tip and started to kiss at the underside where the head and the shaft met.

“That’s good,” Negan groaned, his fingers cradling the back of your head when you dropped your head back to look up at him. “Are you okay with this?”

“Very much so,” you whispered licking your lips when Negan firmly curled his fingers around his girthy length to bring the tip to your wet lips. First, you started to kiss at the tip eliciting the tiniest of moans from Negan’s throat, but you loved the way it sounded. Each caress of your mouth over his manhood grew wetter until you finally took him between your lips. Lapping at the tip had him sucking in sharp breaths of air, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat.

“Fuck,” he hissed out allowing you to take your time with things since this was all new for you. Once you started to lower your head down taking his length further into your mouth, he helped aid your movements. They were slow at first. Wanting to experience this in the best of ways, you did what seemed to have Negan moaning out. Those were what had this whole thing worth it. You had the leader of The Sanctuary in the palm of your hand dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock when you’d pull your head back before dropping forward again. Wet sounds filled the air with you pleasuring him, leaving you thankful that he was there to help your movements. “Okay…you have to stop…”

With a wet popping sound he had you pull your mouth from him. Negan was panting, his head shaking when he started to wiggle out of the material of his boxer briefs. Kicking out of them, Negan gave you a look with your lips wet and your eyes full of lust and want, “I’m going to come if you keep giving me a blowjob and who knows if I can make this good for you.”

Nodding your head, you allowed him to lead you back against the bed with a nervous sound when Negan moved in over you. Looking between the two of you, you stole another look at Negan’s cock and it made you breathless, “Don’t overthink it.”

Dropping his hand between your thighs again, you felt his fingers pushing back inside of you working to have you relax. Hovering his lips over yours, Negan wanted to make sure that you were focused on him and not the act.

“You’re so wet that we aren’t going to have a problem,” he insisted pulling his fingers from your body. Mewling out at the loss of contact, Negan brought his fingers up to lick at the tips of them before starting to stroke at his cock again. The warmth of his body pressed against yours felt amazing. You could hardly catch your breath with Negan’s eyes locked on yours. “Just let me know if you want me to stop.”

Bracing his weight on his left hand, Negan pressed his forehead to yours. Pressing his hips forward, he led his tip to your entrance and it had you sucking in a sharp breath of air, “It’s not going to feel great at first, but I’ll take my time, okay? I know it’s thick, so we’re not gonna rush it.”

The tip was nestled at your entrance with Negan holding back as much as he could from just going forward with everything. Pushing forward, Negan focused on you when the bulbous tip pressed at your tight hole. It had your lips parting, your eyebrows tensing and when he did get the tip in the both of you moaned in unison. Looking for your hand, Negan hooked his fingers with yours and pressed it to the bed keeping his weight braced on his left arm. Watching so intensely had Negan swallowing down hard when he slowly moved a little more allowing you to take more of him.

The sensation was new, slightly uncomfortable with the fullness that you were feeling as he pushed forward just a small bit more, “Negan…”

“It’s okay,” he hushed you, hovering his lips over yours. The lines in his forehead growing when he stole a quick look between you but forced himself to look up. “Fucking fuck…”

“Please,” you whined wondering if the agonizingly slow movements were really delaying the inevitable. Giving you a nod, he rolled his hips in closer to you sinking a significant amount of himself into your sex. Your tight walls clung to him and a raspy moan escaped his lips. Holding tightly to Negan, you buried your nose against the side of his neck and kissed there. Right now it really was just a full, stretching feeling, but knowing that it was Negan inside of you made it worth the slight amount of pain. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah?” Negan tipped his head back, wanting to keep his eyes on yours when he filled you completely. It had your head tipping back into the pillows and he shakily released your hand. Palming in over the side of your face, Negan laid over you and you noticed that he seemed incredibly focused as well. With a moan, his long eyelashes fluttered to a close and he cussed under his breath. “I’m trying so hard to make this perfect for you.”

“It is,” you assured him, brushing your fingers through his dark hair appreciating that he was focused solely on you.

“You’re so fucking tight and I don’t…” Negan pressed his forehead to yours, stroking his thumb over your jawline. Gathering himself, Negan brought your lips together in a lingering kiss that had you eagerly meeting him. Each caress had you relaxing beneath him and when his hips pulled back, you were almost worried that he was going to leave, but you whimpered when he slowly pushed his hips back up toward you. It had you clinging to him, hooking your arms around his shoulders. It seemed like he wanted to desperately keep kissing you through this, his hips gradually building speed with every thrust he made inside of you. Your nails bit at his shoulders having him dropping his head back, his eyes closing tightly when he moaned. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good.”

Leading him back to your mouth, the two of you kissed with winces starting to fall from your lips when the strength of his thrusts started to grow. Pressing his right hand between the two of you, Negan’s fingers connected with your clit caressing at your body in tempo with his thrusts. That extra added stimulation had you moaning out against his lips. That was when things started to feel better. You still felt full, but it started feeling exceedingly better with your hips arching up to meet every single one of his thrusts. Whimpering against his lips, you started to feel a fire burning at your belly but Negan was quick to cover your mouth with kisses again.

“Negan,” you whined noticing that you were starting to tremor beneath him. Smacking up harder against you, every plunge of Negan’s cock into your warmth had you crying out at the side of his neck. Kissing at his neck, you gasped when you clung to Negan as he undoubtedly got you to another orgasm. Pausing his movements, Negan’s moans were raspy with your tight walls contracting and relaxing around his body. Pulling his hips back and away from you allowed his cock to pull from you fully for the first time and you whimpered. It didn’t feel right not having him inside of you, but Negan laid in beside you helping you turn to face him. Bringing your bodies closer together, your legs tangled to. Negan’s hands settled at your sides helping to bring your thigh up over his hip.

“You feel okay?” Negan confirmed with you, his left hand sliding up over your side toward your neck to get you to look at him.

With a smile you nodded, reaching between you to curl your fingers loosely around Negan’s girthy length to stroke at it. Lifting your hips enough, you led his cock to your entrance again lowering them once you felt comfortable enough. A muscle in Negan’s jaw flexed, his lips parting to release a moan when you took him into you with a fluid movement.

Wrapping your arm around his shoulders, you cried out with him kissing at the side of your neck, his palm lowering to caress at your ass. His hips started rolling up toward yours and you pressed in closer to him. In this position, your movements weren’t as even, but it still felt good being wrapped up in his arms. The skin-to-skin contact felt amazing.

“Negan,” you purred out his name with his fingers curling around your neck giving it a tiny squeeze. His eyelids were heavy with lust, his moans matching yours with your movements.

“Who do you belong to?” Negan slurred, nipping at your jawline. It had you wincing, but you liked the way he held onto you.

“Negan,” you said what you knew he wanted and it made him smile. Pushing at his chest hard enough got him to roll onto his back when you took your time to crawl in over him. You wasted no time in reaching between the two of you to lead him back inside of you and the moan he let out was so sexy that it had chills running down your spine.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll last,” Negan informed you, his hands settling at your hips with you getting more comfortable over him. Rocking forward, you raised your hips up to the tip and then lowered back down. Testing your positioning and the speeds, you found what felt the best. Doing your best to rock over his erection in more confident movements. His hands caressed up over your back and toward your breasts palming at them while you bounced yourself over his body. “Fuck…”

“Do you like the way my tight virgin pussy feels?” hearing you say that elicited the best moan from Negan thus far showing that he liked you dirty talking with him. Pulling himself into a seated position, he wrapped his arms around you helping you to roll your hips over his length.

“So fucking much,” Negan slurred against your lips between wet kisses that you were both frantic to have. Winces fell from both your throats. Having Negan angle your body a different way had that same familiar feeling he had drawn out from inside of you earlier when he was fingering you. Wanting to have that feeling again, you put forth more strength with him biting at your bottom lip giving it a tiny tug. “Go on honey. Do it for daddy.”

Negan’s right hand fell to your lower back, his left hand curling around the back of your neck while you firmly rocked your hips to his. Whimpering out, you pulled your hips from his and heard him moaning out when his cock pulled from your body. It was another earth-shattering orgasm, that was short lived when he rolled you back over onto your back. Smacking his hips forward against yours, Negan’s thrusts were fast and you knew that he was searching for that same kind of release.

Hooking your arms around him, your hands pawed at his back when he pressed his forehead to yours and his movements started to falter. Winces fell from his parted lips, the throbbing of his cock inside of you alerting you that he was reaching his orgasm. It was a strange feeling, but you clung to him wanting him to be close to you.

“Fucking hell,” Negan panted, lowering in over you. Small movements of his hips continued until he groaned against your lips. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you snickered, stroking your fingers through his wet hair. Lifting his head, Negan’s hazel eyes looked worried and you dragged your hand down over the side of his face. “That was perfect.”

“I could have lasted longer,” Negan admitted, his brow line creasing. “I just haven’t been with a lot of virgins. And I was rock hard for a long time before we started…”

“It felt like a good length to me,” you were weak, enjoying the weight of him over you. Everything was sore, but from the orgasms that he gave you, you were more than happy.

“It wasn’t as long as you think it was,” Negan snickered, lifting up to meet your lips in a passionate sweep. Pressing his forehead to yours again, Negan smiled and shook his head. “So you’re happy?”

“Very,” you assured him, caressing your fingers over his freckle covered shoulders.

“That’s all that matters,” Negan hummed, adjusting his hips while he grew soft inside of you. “I uh…I haven’t slept with a lot of virgins. I was afraid of hurting you.”

“I mean I hurt,” you confessed, looking between the two of you and he did the same. “But I wouldn’t turn down this hurt if it was offered again.”

“You’ve already been through the worst of it,” Negan stammered, his hand palming in over the side of your face with his thumb sweeping against your cheek. “It won’t hurt like that again unless you’re with an asshole who is intending to hurt you.”

“As I said,” you whispered, stroking your fingers through Negan’s wet hair having his eyes connecting with yours. “I belong to you. I don’t want anyone else.”

“I don’t want you to want anyone else either,” Negan confessed, his words vibrating against your lips when he cuddled in closer to you.

“Then we will have to find a way to make it work,” you announced wondering what the hell was going to happen from here on out. Negan explained to you why he didn’t want you to be a wife. But now you knew that you were addicted to him and you wanted to be endlessly his from here on out. And nothing would change that.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @pixelb4rbie @ibelongtonegan

@smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan

@redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted

@akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03

@sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf

@promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @peachihellcat

#Negan #Negan fanfiction #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan x reader #The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead fanfiction #Negan Smith #Negan x you #Negan imagine #Negan Smut #twd smut #twd fanfiction #kinktober 2024

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isa-loves-you · 1 year ago

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♡Michael Schmidt has a crush♡

You were a sophomore in college, even though you live in an apartment off campus you still visited your mom almost everyday to check on her and to eat.

One night while you were visiting your mom she brought up the people who lived a couple of houses down "the young man knocked on my door this morning, asking if I would or If i knew someone who can babysit his sister at night". The reason why she brought this up is because you were looking for a job, with being a college student you needed the money and nights were perfect since you only have three classes a week. "He's a cutie, he would be perfect for you" you mom called out as she walked into the other room "cute doesn't matter I just need a job".

It's been almost a month since you started watching abby. She was the best kid you have ever babysat for, and she loved you which made your job so much easier.

"Hey y/n, can I ask you a question" "what is it abs" you stopped coloring to look at her. "Will you marry Mike, so you can live here and I can see you everyday"

You were a bit taken back by the question, how did she know that you liked mike?. "I'm really flattered that you want to see me everyday, but I don't think your brother likes me like that" you flashed her a smile to ease the tension but she just shrugged her shoulders and went back to drawing.

Ever since you started watching abby you found yourself infatuated with Mike. He wasn't a very open person but for some reason mike would open up to you, your mom was right he was a cutie.

It was almost midnight until you heard keys jingle and the front door unlock. Mike threw his keys on the small table by the door before looking for you. "Hey I made peanut butter stir fry, do you want me to make you a plate" you asked while already making a B-line to the kitchen."oh no it's okay, I can get it myself you already do almost everything here" you turned to Mike grabbing his arm and pulling him to the table "oh please making a plate is not going to hurt me, now please sit down".

Mike sat down and watched you shuffle around the kitchen to make him some to eat. Mike would never admit to himself but he liked having you around, he loved that abby adored you, sometimes he thimks she likes you more than him. He really wouldn't know what he would do without you, you now became his reason to get up everyday, too look nice, and too be happy.

After mike ate he walked you to your car while talking to you "I get my paycheck tomorrow so would it be okay if you stopped by after class to pick it up?" "Yeah no problem I'll stop by around 6". You stod there justing looking into his eyes, even though Michael's face told a story of a hard life, his eyes showed compassion. You would be a fool to not fall in love with him.

Once you left, Mike got ready for bed. He took the pills he always takes, replayed the tape he always plays, and looked at the Nebraska poster he always falls asleep looking at, but something was different. You were the only thing he could think about before the sleeping pills kicked in.

His dream started out like it always does, his mom spills her coke and tells him to keep track of Garrett. As soon as he sees Garrett in the back of a strangers Cadillac he takes Chace after it. No matter how hard he runs, he can never catche up with the mysterious car.

Mike stops to put his hands on his knees and catches his breath. Giggling. He hears Giggling.

Mike looks back up to now see a field of grass. This wasn't his dream, this is different from his normal nightmares. There in the field stood a happy abby, laughing holding hands with a happier y/n. Mike feels his heart pick up speed.

"Mike!" Abby ran towards her big brother with open arms. Mike catches his sister while y/n walked twords the two of them. He flashes a smile in y/n's direction "I've missed you mike", you kiss his cheak and hug the siblings tight . If he didn't known that this was a dream he would have thought that he died and went to heaven.

"Mike Wake up, I'm hungry". Abby jumps up and down on her brothers bed until she hears him grown,"okay okay abby give me a minute". He stands up and makes his way to the bathroom while abby returns back to the living room where she watches her cartoons and color.

Once mike sets abbys plate in front of her she immediately digs in. "Abby would you be okay if I started to date someone?", the young girl replies without even thinking about it "only if its y/n, she likes you". Mike looked at his sister shocked "well who else would it be, because I like her too" he says trying to play it like he knew this whole time.

It was almost 8 when you entered the house and abby ran up to give you a hug. "Hey hun I'm sorry my class ran later, I tried to call but no one answered" Mike came out of abbys bedroom with a relieved yet anxious look on his face. "Abby go to your room, I need to talk to y/n about grown up stuff" she looks at you with big eye to try to get you to let her stay "it will only take one minute, I'll come in there to say goodnight before I go".

Abby walked to her room with a sad and betrayed face. "Um here's you're payment, you'll be here tomorrow right" "Yeah, couldn't miss it for the world.".There it was, your smile. Oh how he couldn't wait any longer once he seen your million dollar smile.

"I know this might be sudden and very out of line, but could we maybe go out sometime"

You were surprised. "Yeah that sounds great, I would love to" you were stumbling over your words a little bit from being flustered. You two stood there with awkward smiles on your face, if you weren't in his house you would have been screaming from happiness.

"I better go say goodnight to abby before I go it's getting late" you stepped closer to Mike to get to the bedroom. "Y/n '' before you could respond to him, he placed his hand on the back of your ear and placed his lips upon yours.

It felt like a thousand minutes passed by in those five seconds, and you didn't want it to end. It wouldn't have ended if a certain someone spoke up.

"Yay I was right, y/n does like you mike!"

#mike schmidt x reader #michael schmidt #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #Michael schmidt x you

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narfin-frood · 17 days ago

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Hi! I'm a big fan of your art, and I just wanted to know, did you study the WOY art style? I'm asking because the way you draw each character, Hater especially, is so expressive! Do you have any tips with expressions? Thank you!

thank you so much!! and to kinda answer your question: while what i do is, technically, studying, that's not what it feels like. i genuinely just enjoy looking at character sheets. a lot of the time they'll include little notes about things you wouldn't think about unless you're told to, like wander's eyes typically angling towards each other at the bottom or sylvia's eyes obscuring the full width of her neck.

(i have any one of these open in my reference panel almost always! not only are these full of tips & tricks for your everyday sketching, they're full of rules for each character, which are meant to be broken in interesting and fun ways.)

[im gonna pack a bunch of other, tangentially related tips and tricks and thoughts into the readmore, including my personal breakdown of hater's expressions specifically, so feel free to give it a click. long post ahead]

a lot of stuff can be picked up by just watching the cartoon as many times as you want. i have watched every episode (minus big fucking baby episode, which i hate) like 6 times over, sometimes more (looking at you the rager), and that has definitely solidified my wander over yonder visual library.

also, wander over yonder's art style already fits in with the way i draw, because i LOVEE long curvy lines and super crisp & clear silhouettes!!

as for why/how i get hater so expressive.... that mainly has to do with the fact that i think he's So Cute. He's So Cute and i wanna Squash Him. and his character design reflects that!!!

his hood is his eyebrow and his eyes may or may not be rolling around in their sockets, and his nose is a little upside down heart. but all of the lord hater emotion is stored in the chin. lord hater has a bunch of specific and VERY malleable options for mouth shapes, depending on what makes the expression and lipsync look clearest.

you can keep it super simple, with a clear divide between his top and bottom jaw, and do several round bumps for teeth, which they do a lot when tweening, like this:

this kind of seems to be his default state, depending heavily on the episode and when it was made and who was drawing him the most, of course.

you can also keep his jaw and skull distinct, but keep his teeth straight and flush with each other, which helps for sharper expressions, esp. anger or frustration, but can also work for a good "squee". he also sometimes pouts so hard his chin eats his mouth, which is, again, cute.

if you're having trouble keeping an expression clear while also maintaining the distinction between his jaw and the rest of his skull, it's pretty common also to forego most of the overt skeleton bits, save for a few hatch marks to indicate teeth (sometimes squiggles or bumps, when he's yelling about it). in my head i affectionately refer to this style of hater expression as the "peanut sans"

none of these convey the intensity of emotion you're looking for? fear not, you can also always just go Full Skeleting. and give his teeth a full outline. this is great for Pain and Strain and Nefariousness.

and then there are a million expressions in between and possibilities within these parameters beyond your wildest belief. nothing should hold you back from a really fucked-up lord hater expression. not proportion. not structure. ESPECIALLY not symmetry. please. make his chin bigger. make his head bigger. make one eye bigger. make him look in two different directions. scrunch his nose up. whatever it takes. by all means. i implore you to have fun

(honorable mention. his W face. the face when he says the consonant W. sometimes OO. i'm. obsessed. with it . he looks. kity)

anyway. lord hater tangent aside. i could also share my own process for expressions, but it really just hinges on what looks appealing/what i like the most/what communicates the emotion i want to communicate the clearest, and it varies between characters and people.

it helps to, again, build your visual library, and look at lots and lots of funny faces, both in real life and in cartoons you like. make funny faces in the mirror and try to focus on what parts of your face change shape or interact with other parts of your face when you do something like smile really wide or drop your jaw. your skin is taut, and there's a bunch of muscle and fat attached to your bones, so when one big bone moves, a bunch of muscles and fat under the surface will shift around too, and understanding that relationship is really helpful in the long run, both for drawing real people and for drawing cartoons.

and the easiest way to retain information like that is to have fun while you study. stop thinking of it as studying and start thinking of it as gathering information on this thing you like a lot and want to do more of, like when you scroll through someone's account to look at all their art, and just. do more of that. do more exploring and observing. since animation is my special interest, this part is pretty easy for me, but it does still take practice to get into that mindset, especially when you convince yourself you have to be super strict and rigid to make it in the art world. focus on drawing and observing what makes YOU happy first, and everything else will follow.

and don't worry about taking notes. don't worry about remembering everything you look at. just look at things you like, and think about them for longer than you usually would. think about the shapes and colors. what makes that drawing so darn appealing to you, besides subject matter and the vague concept of an "artstyle"? you'll be surprised just how abstract what appeals to you can be. for me, with expressions especially, it comes down to random shit like "i like when the edge of a character's mouth creates a tangent with the outline of their head" instead of "pretty eyes" or other, vaguer elements. and that shit i like becomes a part of my artstyle, but only when it fits in and looks appealing, because you can't do stuff like this in every single drawing & retain a full range of expression

ANYway. i hope this made some sense/helped at least a little. i like lord hater a lot. and i also like to draw

#ask #rambling #wander over yonder #lord hater #myart

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darlingcameron · 2 months ago

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New idea: Rafe is friends with an autistic reader(female I apologize) mentions of good aversion, sensitivity to noise, swimming, masking.

"Is the food okay, dear?" Rose places a hand on your shoulder which you try to contain your uneasiness but you were a little weary of her and physical contact was something you were still getting use to so you tried your best to mask it.

You offer a smile and nod, "Oh yes, Mrs. Cameron it all looks so good I'm just-"

"She's autistic, Rose...I'll just bake her something else." Rafe speaks up, placing his napkin down and gets up from his seat and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you didn't want Rose to feel offended or make anything awkward, "No! Rafe I-i can try it- look!" You almost clumsily pick up your fork, circling the spaghetti around your fork but then looks at it for a moment, the sauce seeming almost offensive towards you and you shake your head. "Yeah, no nevermind..I'm so sorry...I know you put so much effort into this I just-" you rambled on as your people pleaser tentacles start to kick in and you look around fanatically between Rose and the plate in front of you.

"Y/N for the love of God, shut up-its fine just come with me and I'll see what I can make for you- let's go." He snaps his fingers towards the door that leads inside and you sheepishly smile at Rose before rising out of your seat and walk inside.

Rafe follows, sliding the glass door closed and goes over to the freezer. "What would it be? Chicken nuggets and fries again?" He looks over at you, holding the handle to the freezer and you shrug, "I don't know kind of getting bored of that being a safe food." You say as you lean against the counter, feeling awful and like you were a nuisance towards him and his family. "But I can deal with it."

"Nonsense, I'll just keep looking. Hey, how about some apples and peanut butter? Both healthy and contain protein." He asks, opening a cabinet and looking around, moving things about.

You wave him off, "honestly I can wait...I can just go hole and order mcdonalds."

"McDonald's isn't exactly a healthy choice." He says and you shrug, "there's a Chinese place down by where I live."

"And I think you order so much that thats the reason they're still open."

You roll your eyes. "Really Rafe, I can just wait..."

"Then you'll get cranky from your blood sugar dropping and you'll start to get panicky...remember the last time? You kept hitting your head and I thought you were gonna have a concussion." He sighs, running his hand through his hair as he closes the cabinet, looking over at you.

"Whats up with you tism people and fast food?" He asks, walking over to you.

"Convient, you don't have to make it or stress for like 30 minutes looking for what may look good, and if you order from a place enough it's a no brainer on what to eat." You shrug as you explain.

"You need to have a home cooked meal at some point." He states, placing his hands on his hips and staring down at you.

You chuckle, "Well until you become my personal chef I'd have to wait...you're very patient with me." You mumbles the last part, fiddling with your hands and he takes hold of them. You noticed his hands felt warm and you look up at him, "You're special to me."

You tilt your head at him, "Is that a special needs joke?"

He grins and wraps his arm around your shoulder, "Could be but you're still special...c'mon...let's go get some mcdonalds and worry about our health when we're old." He escorts you both to the front of the house.

"I'll still be eating chicken nuggets at 50."

"If you're alive by then with your health choices."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x autistic reader

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mossplot · 1 month ago

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Mouth washing character headcannons: :D

TW:MENTIONS OF ASSAULT AND NSFW

CURLY:

-has a CRIPPLING fear of letting people down.

-runs left and right and up and down, all over trying to please everyone.

-due to this, he gets burnt out fast.

-gives amazing advice to others, but (stereotypically) cannot follow the advice himself.

~”He said WHAT to you? You absolutely do not deserve that!”

~”Okay, yes. Jimmy did say that to me, but that’s different!”

-we all know Aussie Curly.😏

-i believe his accent would only be think and noticeable when showing a lot of emotion in his voice.

-he seems to be the pinnacle of health with all his weightlifting and snow sport hobbies!

-with that being said, I believe this man 100% lectures the other crew members about their health, eating habits, exercise regimens, ect…(yes, even Anya🙄)

-he does this out care! He’s not trying to be a stickler.

-100% smells of sweat and cheep yet fairly good smelling cologne. Working at Pony Express can’t afford you brand name things.

ANYA:

-Anya 100% enjoyes mint ice cream.

-also oddly specific, but I get the vibe that she’d enjoy peanuts but dislike peanut butter, claiming “it tastes totally different!”

-we already know she’s a try hard at board games, but don’t even get her started at team games like charades or Pictionary.

~”Daisuke HOW DID YOU GET HELICOPTER FROM THAT?! I WAS LITERALLY PRETENDING TO SWIM!!!”

-I also feel like she’s an Ambivert, it all just depends on the situation and who she’s around.

-also isn’t a huge fan of physical touch unless she’s close with the person. If she is, she’s constantly touching them in some way 24/7.

-a gentle hand on their shoulder, feet touching as they lay at opposite ends of the couch, holding hands.

-she just really loves her friends.

-a huge girls girl.

-bi, with a huge leaning towards women, to be precise.

-gets overwhelmed very easily.

-has a very distinct laugh, a laugh that when you hear it-it is funnier than the joke that was told.

-originally wanted to be an astronomer and stayed up late looking out her bedroom windows connecting the stars in new constellations.

-closest to Daisuke.

-smells good, like lavender and rosemary-very earthy but it’s faint and not pungent.

SWANSEA:

-finds lint in his bellybutton 24/7.

-would lay in his recliner at home and not like what was playing in tv, but would also be too lazy to get the remote and change it, subsequently falling asleep instead.

-It’s obvious that he’s not great at expressing his love, this is shown by his interactions with Daisuke. This extends to his family too.

-was never able to offer more than a loose arm around the shoulder of his daughters or wife and a “Cheer up, it could always be worse.”

-despite this, the gifts (very personal and thought out I may add) he comes home with for them prove his love to them.

-used to be incredibly fit.

-secretly thinks Curly is a pushover and dislikes him for how he lets Jimmy treat him.

~”Now a REAL man woulda socked him something good!”

~”Please, Swansea. I can’t go assaulting my own crew!” (Ironic)

-his daughters and/or wife would periodically wake up to him stomping through the house, coughing, burping, farting, pissing loudly…basically all the things dads do.

-would always only walk around in underwear and shirt. (Not in a weird way)

-daughters would be MORTIFIED when they had friends over and they see Swansea waking up from his midday nap walking past scratching his ass in nothing but a t-shirt and underwear.

-is one of those old fashioned dads who threatens his daughters boyfriends.

-absolutely LOVES asparagus.

-one time “accidentally” hit Jimmy in the nuts pretending to swat a bug away.

-also doesn’t smell bad: a little like tabaco (I believe he smokes) and alcohol, but also a lot like motor oil and old spice.

DAISUKE:

-also a huge girls girl!

-100% has nipple piercings and you CANNOT convince me otherwise.

-had an Emo phase in middle school.

-is incredibly lucky at only board games. Anything else? Absolutely the worst luck ever.

-was generally liked throughout his schools due to his easy going and goofy nature.

-his guilty pleasure is Southpark and huddles away on the ship to watch it on his game boy (somehow).

-has jailbroken all his phones only to need to buy new ones to AGAIN jail break those ones.

-has a speed run channel on YouTube where he is actually really good and holds several records.

-did gymnastics as a kid and is incredibly flexible.

-loves playing board games with Anya just to see her get pissed off.

-will sit in medbay yapping to her for hours on end, switching from topic to topic with really no direction.

-draws little characters of all the crew members and hides them on the ship. Anya and Curly thought it was endearing, Swansea would never admit it but he did too, and Jimmy did NOT like Yimpy.

-loves watching asmr, especially scalp and hair play and jumps at the opportunities where Anya offers to play with and/or do his hair.

-despite being goofy and easygoing, he’s not stupid. He had decent grades in high school and continues to in college and can be serious when need be.

-I head cannon him as a big brother, who absolutely adores his little sister.

-oh! She wants this? He’ll buy it! She wants to go here? He’ll come with! Someone’s picking on her? He’s already taking care of it. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

-this man smells of sweetener. He must’ve rolled in a pile of of it because he reeks of it.

JIMMY:

-100% has and still does jerk off to photos of Curly WHO SAID THAT?!

-had an okay childhood to a single father.

-has a tramp stamp curly convinced him to get when he (Jimmy) was drunk back in college.

-also weight lifts with Curly.

-has UNNECESSARILY hairy feet. Like, all over him is hairy, but his feet are just big bushes.

-actually fairly agile.

-is obviously a Brony (duh). Curly needed to borrow his laptop one time in high school and…never again.

-his best class in high school was art! Can do fairly decent sketches and enjoys it a lot.

-really, really likes newports.

-snores loudly. To the point it will wake up people on the ship and they’ll come complaining to him. He obviously doesn’t give a shit.

-ran a Reddit account back in high school posting r/im14andthisisdeep.

-regularly tried to steal or drive away Curly’s girlfriends in high school and college, claiming he knew what was best for Curly and they were taking advantage of him.

-takes a little less care of himself than the other members, so he smells a little worse. As an aroma of musk and sweat, along with Curly’s cologne because he can’t be bothered to buy his own. (sharing is caring, right?)

BIPPIE!! I MADE MY FIRST POST ON HERE! :D

#grant curly #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #mouthwashing #headcanon #im trying #first post #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #gulp #tulpar #opinion #i do not ship them #ESPECIALLY CURLY AND JIMMY #please send asks

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joons · 3 months ago

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okay no wait, I'm so curious your thoughts on the elvis mythology! I'm trying to think of an example haha. anyway, thank you for that food for thought. your takes on elvis are so interesting and kind of a different perspective than I normally see

Thank you! That means a lot because I do love going into his psychology and thinking about how he thought about things. And I love being able to engage with Elvis stuff from all different angles!

I can think of a few - like there will be people who were close to him who make such absolute statements about him: he refused to wear blue jeans, he hated eating fish, he loved eating peanut butter/banana/bacon sandwiches, he was afraid of germs, he wouldn't sleep with women who were mothers. But not all of those are true for him 100% of the time, or they seem to be big outliers where no one else has reported anything like that. And as you read more, you can see moments where he behaves differently than these big eccentricities that people pin on him, and you have to think about why that might be. You pick up little clues that you can put together to figure out what he meant. Did he have an almost pathological dislike of blue jeans because they reminded him of his childhood poverty, or did he just tell one of his band members that because he had made a brusque joke about the guy wearing blue jeans in front of a bunch of people and wanted to find a way to apologize without apologizing? Was he covering up behavior he was ashamed of, or was he revealing the real shame that drove him to look his best and make sure his entourage looked their best too? Did he actually have an aversion to women after they had given birth (unlikely, since he had relationships with several mothers), or did he want to give Priscilla a reason for avoiding her that she couldn't work around, knowing that she always went overboard trying to change herself to get his attention and getting rid of things she thought were coming between them (his spiritual books/Larry Geller/etc.)? Was this just one of a long line of excuses he made for not truly being in love with her and not wanting to try anymore? Did he actually eat the same sandwich every day, or did he just make a big deal about it one time because it was Lisa's birthday and he wanted to fly her somewhere special? And the other stuff he did eat every day, did he do it because it was one of the few things in his life he had control over, and could extract comfort from, or did he do it because, as he told Larry, he wanted to make himself sick of it so that it would no longer be a temptation? And how much of these conversations are either hearsay or someone putting words in his mouth to absolve themselves of something that bothered them?

The long and short of it is that people have sometimes reported things he said or did without any surrounding context, or it gets stripped away when it's reported elsewhere, and we are left with these moments that don't make sense or tell us anything about him unless we see how he dealt with them throughout his life, around different people, and see him as a whole person and not the Elvis Image that he tended to embrace when it suited him and resent when it hurt him. A really great moment that I think shows how Elvis tended to approach things is reported by Steve Binder, where he said Parker was telling Elvis absolutely not to do something, and Steve felt like Elvis just kind of shut down and mumbled "yes" until Parker left, and then Elvis' eyes flashed and he turned to Steve and said, "Fuck him," and did what he wanted to do. He was a people pleaser! A huge one! He valued loyalty above honesty. He was willing to lie to people he cared about if he felt that it would avoid a confrontation, and sometimes that tipped into a selfish "I want to do things my way," and sometimes that tipped into a selfless "I want them to have everything I can give them." And he waffled between those extremes because of his own low self-esteem and loneliness. I'm! Screaming! About this! At all times! He is an unreliable narrator, he's such a bubble of emotions that pops with the slightly scratch, he's so complex that you are not sure if he wants the bubble to be an opaque shield or a transparent boundary that you can slip through. He was testing people all the time to know if he could trust them with his heart without expecting him to be the Elvis Image, telling them things that were an invitation and a challenge and an insult and a declaration of love all at once, and so much of the problem we deal with now is that people are still completely uninterested in these depths. I???? Love him??? And the things he can help us learn about ourselves??? Just by trying to see him as he really was????

I don't know, I just get very overwhelmed!!!!

#elvis presley #there aren't always completely right answers to any of these questions but i love guessing

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oneverydelululemon · 4 months ago

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SXF MANGA SPOILERS, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Hi! It's me again!

I want to thank all of you wonderful people who have read the first fic I did, The Conversation. I love and appreciate every single one of you! <3

Since that post gained a bit of traction, I decided to write down the prequel, aka how Damian even realised Anya can read minds. (Un)fortunately, this fic got a bit long so I'll be posting the first part for now. I hope you enjoy!

The Revelation - part 1

Damian was sitting on his bed in the dorms, his legs crossed. He had spent almost the entire day studying in the library, his nose in the books until Ewen and Emile dragged him out. After forcing Damian into the dorm, the boys went to get something to eat. Since Damian wasn't hungry, he chose to go to their room instead and have some well deserved rest. However, once he snuggled into his bed, he couldn't fall asleep.

Damian had been struggling with insomnia for a while, and the causes of his lack of sleep were always one of two things. If he wasn't stressing about his academic status, his mind liked to drive him crazy with all the memories he has about that shimp-haired commoner. The latter frustrated Damian to no end. He hated his own mind for toying with his heart in such a manner, for having chosen to give so much of its precious attention to someone so undeserving of it. If he'd paid as much attention to his studies as he did to Forger, he'd have already become an Imperial Scholar. A part of him wished he would come to his senses, but a small part of him hoped it could be like this forever.

So Damian did what he always does when he needs to relax and stop thinking about that girl - he took one of the many "The Serpent's Orb" comics he owns and began rereading it.

"The Serpent's Orb". Oh, how he adored that comic. He started reading it during the Dark Preschool Ages. He would read it whenever the halls of his mansion felt too empty and the rooms too big. Damian cringed thinking about the time he spent reading and reenacting the story to Jeeves. He cringed even harder when he remembered he would sometimes tell the same story to his old plushie whenever he'd be too scared to sleep at night, believing there were monsters in his closet. By the time he moved into the boys' dorm at Eden, he already knew every line in all the volumes, every episode of the show. Damian was ecstatic to hear Ewen and Emile were fans of the show like him, but they were never as enthusiastic about it as he was. He never blamed them for not loving it as much, though. For them it was just another cool show, but for Damian, "The Serpent's Orb" was a lifeline.

He took one of his favorite volumes from underneath his bed and began reading the first page. He usually reads through an entire volume in the matter of minutes, but he found it hard to concentrate during school break. His mind had been too occupied reliving the last time he saw that peanut-obsessed stalker. He did his best to call the night of the gala anything but magical, even if he did spend a good portion of it arguing with her.

Damian rubbed his eyes in hopes of erasing images of Anya dancing with him. He reread the page he stopped on. The main character read the mind of his best friend to find out what happened on the planet he visited. Damian hadn't really found this scene as interesting as many other fighting scenes up until that moment.

Mind reading, huh? - he pondered. It reminded him of the joke that dummy made at the gala. Damian knew better than to believe such an ability exists. This is the real world, not some cartoon or a comic.

I mean, imagine what life would look like if telepathy was real. You would know exactly what the other person thinks. If i could read minds, I'd have perfect grades! I would win every game of Old Maid and excel in every quiz! There's no one I wouldn't beat in every single football match! Bazooka Bill would fear me!

He kept daydreaming, chuckling to himself.

Until it hit him. He felt his stomach sink.

Didn't Anya make Bill cry when she dodged his every single throw, as if she knew what he was about to do? Didn't she know about some of the most embarrasing moments in Damian's life, like when Max pushed him into a pond on accident? Wasn't it Anya who won the first round of Old Maid, before she agreed to play another round because it seemed like she cheated? Didn't she somehow find out the bombs around their necks were fake in that damned bus, despite nobody ever hearing any of the terrorists say it?

Damian's mind was racing, going over every single interaction he's ever had with Forger. He stared wide-eyed at the pages in his lap, his face turning paler by the second. He dropped the comic from his hands as they were too shaky to hold it anymore.

In that moment, he was rethinking his entire existence. Is this life real? Is Anya real? Is he real? Is this all just a bad dream or some sort of a fictional simulation? Does he live in an actual cartoon?!

Damian didn't sleep that night. He barely managed to sleep every other night after that, counting the days before the beginning of the second semester.

He had some investigating to do.

And that's it for this one! I heard somewhere Damian imagined he's on a planet in Dragon Ball Z when he was "training" for the dodgeball match, so I took that fun fact and ran with it. That being said, I've never watched the anime or read the manga, I just searched up if it involves any telepathy. It's why I tried to keep it vague. I hope I didn't get anything wrong but let me know if I did!

I'll make a part two that will revolve around Anya finding out he knows.

Let me know what you think! Any feedback is appreciated! And thank you once again for reading my delulu little stories! Love you to the moon and back!

Byeeee <3

#spy x family #spy x family manga spoilers #anya x damian #damian desmond #damianya #anya forger #can you tell who my favourite sxf character is #i like te idea of damian breaking the fourth wall and being meta #like that one time in the manga when he broke grabbed his own speech bubble and stomped it with his foot #i think that's the only time a character did smth like that #not sure tho #it'd be funny if the only chars allowed to be meta were the kids and Franky #Franky's the only adult in sxf that strikes me as the type of guy who thinks life's a simulation lol

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devilishchaos · 2 years ago

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hi love, i have no clue if youre taking requests atm but im really in love with ur writings, super talented🥹 i wonder if you could write more fluff where rúben is having the pregnancy symptoms (cravings, back pain, etc) basically hes feeling your pregnancy ups and downs hehe

Sympathetic pregnancy | Rúben Dias Imagine

Rating / genre: fluff

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Summary: Rúben, an expectant father, experiences some of the same symptoms and behavior as his pregnant partner.

Warnings: none

AN: Heyy, thank you so much for the kind words and the request <3 I hope you like it! :) x

Word Count: 813 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

You rolled onto your back with a small groan. Nothing seems to work, you are overly tired, frustrated, in pain and hungry. You are so uncomfortable you actually want to scream. Your stomach is huge and because of that, no position in bed is comfy. Literally not even one.

Being 38 weeks pregnant is hard, all you really want at this point is for the baby to come out already. On top of not being able to find a position to sleep in, you never slept more than an hour at a time. Tonight especially, you had been experiencing braxton-hicks contractions for most of the night, some of them bringing you to tears. You placed your hand on your stomach and could feel him kicking around. You could feel his tiny feet pushing through the skin of your stomach, giving you butterflies and a smile. There was just something so strange about feeling a baby kick within you and while it was weird - it was a beautiful part of pregnancy that you would for sure miss. But of course, right now you just wished he would stay still and go to sleep so maybe you could get some sleep as well. You winced in pain as you felt another contraction come on.

“Rúben?” you asked softly, trying not to startle him.

But there wasn’t a response.

“Rúbes?” you tried again, but still nothing.

And since your back was facing him, you had to turn around to see why he wasn’t responding. Which alone was a big task.

You soon discovered that Rúben wasn’t in bed, his side empty and cold, which meant it had been a while since he had left. But where could have he gone? It was the middle of the night and he had early training tomorrow. So you decided to go and look for him.

After carefully getting out of bed, you put on your fuzzy robe and opened the bedroom door. Immediately you entered the living room and you were met with darkness. You made your way to the closest light switch and

“Ah, are you eating my favorite craving without me?” you gasped at your husband, who you caught red-handed, trying to stuff a pickle in his mouth, a jar of grape jelly and one with peanut butter opened in front of him, sitting on the kitchen counter “How could you do this to me?”

“Princess, I-”

“Don’t princess me now mister! Are you stealing your baby mama’s food? And why are you sitting in darkness??”

“I’m not! I- I just..I wanted to try it and I- I couldn't stop, I guess.”

“It’s good, huh? Make room for me.”

You waddled your way to him, around the kitchen island, and put your hand out. He put a pickle in it, with the perfect ratio of peanut butter and jelly, because at this point he has made that for you one too many times and he knew exactly how you liked it.

“Thank you, babe.” you said while you both continued to stuff your faces. It was just too good to pass.

Rúben almost found himself in tears during the training session at THE Etihad Campus because he didn’t perform the best way he knew he could. He’s had a couple of bad days but they’ve never led him to be so hysterical, he’s a born leader after all.

“Oi, Rúben!” Kyle called him cautiously when Rúben walked into the locker room without saying anything to anyone, his gaze hard as he threw his soaking with sweat shirt quite furiously in his locker.

“Rúben.” he calls him again, this time in a higher tone and he makes his way towards him “Rúben, take a deep breath in, lad. Chill man.” a choked sound comes out of Rúben’s throat as he sits down on the bench and Kyle stepped back to study him better.

“I can’t breathe. Everything hurts. I’m not sleeping like I should and I wanna go back to drink another (caffeinated drink).” Rúben breathed out fast.

“You know if you were a girl I’d tell you you’re like this because of your hormones, your period or something.” Kyle jokes.

“Great! So I’m a man and I’m just crazy?” Rúben rolls his eyes while his friend shakes his head amused “And you have a wife for longer than me, Walks?!? You should know better than to say stuff like that.”

“It’s one of the side effects of becoming a father, I’m telling you..been there, done that..three times.” Kyle shrugs.

“Well it sucks.” Rúben grumbles almost immediately as he crosses his arms to his chest.

“It’s worth it, I can assure you of that.” a little smile is born on both their faces. “Hey, but let me know when your morning sickness goes away, okay?” Rúben groans while Kyle laughs, after all it’s a bit funny.

#ruben dias #ruben gato dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias fluff #football imagine #football imagines

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sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy · 18 days ago

Text

Five Times The Supernatural Ruined Stiles's Dating Life And One Time It Helped It

Masterlist | AO3

Stiles swears that the Nemeton and Supernatural things in Beacon Hills are trying to ruin his love life and it's succeeding.

Sterek

~12k

One

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Stiles looked at himself in the mirror, wondering if he was overdressed for a first date. Lydia dressed him so the answer was probably yes. Stiles looked at his phone on the dresser. He was definitely overdressed if the gang found the missing kids, Leshy and needed to fight.

He sighed deeply. The supernatural had ruined a lot for Stiles. He missed so many high school experiences because he had to help save Beacon Hills god knows how many times. He went to college close to help protect the town. He didn't apply for the FBI academy because he'd have to move to Virginia. He was stuck because of it. Could he get just one night without a huge issue? One night– he didn't even need all night, just a few hours– so he could go on a date?

Emma was so smart and funny and pretty and she thought Stiles was funny and he would listen to his rambles in their study group. Stiles already felt bad because he'd had to cancel at the last minute three times because of different issues. He had to blame work.

Stiles sent a text to the pack group chat, getting confirmation that nothing had happened yet, and flipped to text Emma.

He looked in the mirror one more time. He felt stupid. Lydia had insisted he wear a button-up and suit jacket– she even made him buy new because what he had was unflattering– with dress shoes. She mercifully let him forego a tie and said he could wear nice jeans. He was Lydia-approved. He hoped it wasn’t too much.

Stiles met Emma in the restaurant parking lot. She was wearing a summer dress with a cardigan and Stiles smiled. “You are destined to be a teacher,” he joked and Emma chuckled.

“You think,” she asked, locking her car. “I was actually thinking of changing my major to psychology,” Emma joked.

“Elementary Ed looks too good on you,” Stiles teased as she walked over. “Maybe if you did a library science.” Stiles held out a bag of assorted mini chocolate bars and Emma laughed. “I thought they would be better than flowers since you keep candy in your bag!”

Emma took the bag of candy with a smile. “You mean the candy you eat?”

“No, look,” he said, pointing at the bag. “There’s a bunch of peanut and almond candies. You eat those!”

“It’s wonderful. Thank you, Stiles,” Emma chuckled, fitting the candy into her purse.

They walked side by side to the restaurant door. He made a particular effort to keep himself between his date and the road. It had rained earlier and Stiles was used to being soaking wet and freezing cold after years of hunting random creatures in the preserve that had so so many creeks and streams.

Stiles opened the door to the restaurant, holding it open for his date. “After you,” he said and she smiled as they walk in.

“I’m glad we could finally find a day that works for both of us,” she said. She linked their arms with a smile when Stiles joined her inside.

Stiles gave a nervous smile, following the hostess. “Ya, I’m really sorry I had to cancel before. Work, ya know,” he mumbled, his face growing red.

They sat down and looked at the menus but she was quick to pick the conversation back up. "What do you do for work? Didn't you say you were a babysitter or something," Emma asked, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

"Uhhh, kind of," Stiles said, trying to come up with something.

She pushed her hair behind her ear. "What do you mean, kind of," she asked leaning forward. God, Stiles felt dumb with her eyes on him. She was smiling softly, waiting for him to tell her more like he was the most interesting person in the world.

"Well, I mean," he cleared his throat. "I help… individuals with," Oh they were going to kill him for this, "special needs navigate difficult situations when others can't," he explained just vaguely enough to sound like an actual job and not that he was traipsing through the woods with a pack of werewolves hunting dangerous creatures.

"That's so cool," she said, smiling brightly at him. "So, like, do you work with special needs kids or adults more?"

Stiles tried not to cringe. They dealt with too many kids in danger. "Adults mostly."

He bit the inside of his lip when Emma praised his “good heart”. He wasn’t so good. He was a mess. He’d killed more supernatural creatures than he could remember by now. He absently felt for his phone but caught himself before he checked it. It would buzz if they needed him. It would ring if it were an emergency.

“Have you sent in your applications yet,” Emma asked and Stiles gave her a confused look. “You told me before that you were going to apply for the FBI Academy…”

Stiles faked a smile. “That. Ya, right…” He was a killer. Stiles had killed “monsters” that used to be human, that had lives and families. How could he ever be FBI when he’d killed people? “I need to work in the field first,” Stiles mumbled, rubbing the condensation off his glass of water on the table. He didn’t lie. It was a half-truth but no werewolf would find the lie but… but Emma was human. Most people were

Emma smiled. “I’m sure you’ll do amazing things as a police officer,” she said kindly like she could sense Stiles’s unease– she might of, Stiles forgets how preceptive other humans are.

“Thanks. I—” Stiles started and his phone rang. He instantly pulled his phone up and stood when he saw it was Scott. He looked at Emma and she frowned. This was it. The choice he made now would determine where this was going. It… It was going nowhere. Stiles answered the phone. “Hey, Scott…”

Emma sighed. Stiles wanted to feel bad but there were missing kids trapped somewhere in the woods and he really couldn’t. How selfish was he that he had a date planned when there were missing kids? Scott hung up and Stiles pulled out his wallet.

“I’m really really sorry, Emma,” he said, digging for cash. “Look, get yourself something to eat and I’ll call you later okay,” Stiles said, holding out sixty dollars.

Emma gave him a tight-lined smile. It was forced and angry. “You’re skipping out on our date for work?”

“I know. I’m—”

“Just– ya know what,” she sighed. “You obviously don’t have space in your life for a relationship right now. I don’t think– Goodbye Stiles,” Emma said and stood up, holding her purse tightly. “You don’t have time for one date. I can’t…” Emma walked out of the restaurant.

Stiles groaned, dropping a ten on the table for the drinks they never got. He rushed out of the restaurant. He wanted to keep a distance between himself and Emma so he didn’t seem like a creep but he really had to hurry. He was ten minutes away as it is.

Stiles hurried to the jeep and sped out of the parking lot and toward his friends. He saw Emma just sitting in her car when he drove off. He felt like such a douche, knowing he blew his one shot with this freaking awesome girl.

He got to the preserve, barely getting the jeep in park before jumping out. He grabbed his mountain ash bat and turned toward the woods. His eyes caught on the person waiting that the edge of the trees.

“A bit overdressed, aren’t you,” Derek asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked Stiles up and down. It made Stiles’s stomach turn, it always had. He chose to act as though it was fear still but he hadn’t truly feared Derek for a long time.

Stiles scoffed. “You pulled the short straw again,” he mumbled, walking toward the werewolf. The pack had long ago set up a system in which the humans would have a designated guide to bring them to the fight if the others had to head in without them. It seemed Derek kept getting volen-told to be the guide when Stiles was late.

Derek shrugged. “They give me the shitty jobs,” he grumbled with just enough infection to tell Stiles he was joking. It was a gift, Stiles was the Derek whisperer.

“Watch it. I have a bat,” Stiles said teasingly, pointing the– actually pretty useful– bat at Derek. The treat was meat with a roll of Derek’s eyes. Stiles sighed, resting the head of the bat on the toe of his shoe. “I wish the supernatural could be a little more considerate of the rest of us. I’m supposed to be on a date,” Stiles huffed, gesturing to his clothes as Derek lead him into the woods.

“I take it they didn’t take ‘sorry, I have to go fight a Polish monster that kidnaps abused children’ as an excuse,” Derek scoffed and Stiles smirked.

“Nope,” he said. “I told her that I work with special needs adults and had to go to work.” Derek gave a disgusted huff and Stiles smirked.

“Why didn’t you say you worked for animal control,” Derek asked.

“Holy shit, I could have said I work for animal control,” Stiles groaned, smacking himself in the forehead.

Derek huffed a laugh. “We aren’t too far behind the others,” Derek said.

The conversation ended there. They walked deeper into the preserve. Stiles watched Derek’s breathing change when he would try to pick up the pack’s scent. Derek walked beside Stiles, getting closer the longer they walked. Their arms brushed together and Derek tensed. Stiles gripped his bat tighter, knowing a tense werewolf wasn’t usually a good sign. Usually but not always; not when they’re trying to keep their cool around a person they like.

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Two

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Stiles was the worst boyfriend ever. He was horrible and terrible and awful and deserved every insult in the book after this one. He white-knuckled the steering wheel.

It was nine pm on February fourteenth and there were no flowers to be spoken of anywhere. He was supposed to have dinner with his boyfriend Spencer and had yet to see him the whole day thanks to a rouge Wendigo hiding and killing along the hiking path the high school track team used.

Stiles had to rush home and shower to get off all the blood, dirt, sweat and god knows what else. He had to change into nice clothes and drive eight minutes to Spencer’s apartment. Stiles knocked on the door and stood awkwardly, waiting for it to open.

It opened and Stiles was the fucking worst person ever. Spencer’s eyes were red and puffy. He was wearing baggy sweats, his usual put-together self far away. “You’re three hours late.”

Stiles cringed and nodded. “I know. I’m the worst and I tried to get you something but there wasn’t any candy or flowers—”

“Probably because it’s nine pm on Valentine’s Day,” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t even text me!”

“I didn’t have service,” Stiles muttered. “I tried but—”

“Work. Ya, know,” Spencer sighed.

“I’ll do anything. Just, please forgive me?”

Spencer seemed to think it over. “Can you guarantee me two nights where you absolutely will not miss or run out on our dates?” It was reasonable. Any real job should give you the ability to make that promise but… Stiles wasn’t talking about a normal job.

Stiles didn’t answer and Spencer took it as all the answer he needed.

“You’re married to your work and that’s coming from a workaholic. Until you can put us before work at least once, I can’t do this,” Spencer told him. He looked at Stiles and bit his lip. “Let me know when that happens, okay?”

Spencer closed the door. That door closing felt like it knocked the breath out of Stiles.

The walk down to the jeep felt like the longest journey of Stiles’s life. He was going to be alone on Valentine’s day. He didn’t want to go home. Chances were that his dad and Melissa were having dinner and if he showed up, Melissa would ask what was wrong and he’d ruin their night. Scott and Isaac and Lydia and Cora were having a double date movie night. Stiles’s roommate had made it very clear what he’d be doing with his girlfriend in their apartment. He definitely didn’t plan to hang out with Liam and Hayden or Mason and Cory. Malia was god knows where. Theo was… well, that involved spending time with Theo.

Stiles would be alone in the jeep on Valentine’s Day because all his friends had someone to spend it with. All except Derek.

Stiles put the jeep in gear. Maybe they could be lonely together.

As usual, the door was unlocked by the time Stiles made it up the stairs. It was probably unlocked the second the jeep pulled onto the street because of how loud the old girl was. Stiles walked in and kicked off his shoes.

“Not spending the time left on this shitty day with your boyfriend,” Derek asked, not even looking up from his book.

Stiles groaned, “ex-boyfriend,” and crossed the room to sit on a beanbag he’d brought over a while back. “Seriously, I swear the supernatural creatures of the world are out to destroy my love life…”

“This one lasted longer than the others. What was his name? Steven… Simon…”

“Spencer,” Stiles huffed, starting to smile before the weight of the situation started to weigh on him again. “He said that if I could promise two nights I wouldn’t have to leave, we could stay together.”

“Then take a few nights off,” Derek mumbled, still looking at his book even though he definitely wasn’t reading anymore. More than anything, he just didn’t feel like seeing Stiles’s face, knowing he’d be love-sick or heartbroken.

“I can’t do that. What if you need me,” Stiles groaned and rubbed his face, not noticing how Derek perked up slightly. “What if there’s something that the pack doesn’t know how to fight and I have to do research?”

“We can figure it out.”

“Because that worked so well last time,” Stiles scoffed, referring to the whole Ghostrider situation. “And that’s not the point! I have to be here. This is my life now and if I date someone, they’d have to be okay with me randomly running out! I can’t put myself into a relationship fully because my mind is always on you and the pack and what happens if you get hurt or die or get kidnapped because that’s how my life is!”

Derek hummed, “and being a werewolf doesn’t change things for me? For the pack?”

Stiles threw his hands up, “but all of them are dating people who know! They’re dating people in the same situation.”

“Danny—”

“Danny figured it out himself and we have been dragging the poor dude into this shit slowly for years.”

“Then you already have your answer,” Derek grumbled and Stiles huffed a laugh.

“Oh ya, I either narrow my dating pool to supernatural creatures– be a real-life monster fucker– or tell another human about this and get myself sent back to Eichen House, pass.”

“Didn’t seem to mind when you were with Malia,” Derek muttered and Stiles thought there was an almost nervous edge to the words.

Stiles sighed. “Well, ya but my back always looked like I’d been mauled by– well– a coyote,” he said, a chill running down his back at the memory of how it burned when his shirt rubbed against the deep cuts. “The issue with that idea is the low number of friendly monsters to fuck.”

Derek shut his book loudly. He stood up, laying his book in his chair, and walked toward the kitchen. “I’m making coffee.”

“Two cups, right,” Stiles asked, watching Derek walk into the kitchen.

He looked around the room. Derek had (finally) furnished the apartment. He even used the upstairs bedroom instead of treating the space like a studio apartment. And yet, no tv. Stiles’s eyes settled on the only thing of interest in the room, Derek’s book. He knew Derek liked to read but he mostly read biographies. Any of the other books in the place belonged to the rest of the pack since it was kind of their home base. Derek had put the book cover down but the back of the book did not look like a biography. Stiles scooted his beanbag to the couch, picked up the book, and looked at the cover. His jaw dropped. That… had to be one of Cora’s. It was such a cliche cover. A tiny human girl and a giant, ridiculously buff guy with icey blue eyes. The color of the eyes threw him. Icey blue like Derek.

“Branching out into new genres I see,” Stiles mumbled, looking down at what was most definitely a fucking werewolf romance that he remembered Cora had deemed scarily accurate. “You really need to get a tv, man. This is a new low…”

Stiles opened the book to the page Derek had been reading and blinked heavily in shock. He kept reading and… wow, okay. Stiles read until he saw Derek walking back out of the corner of his eye.

“This is… Cora was right,” Stiles said, huffing.

Derek took the book from Stiles, trading it for a cup of coffee. “The author definitely seems to know about real werewolves and not the other crap in the genre,” Derek said, sitting in his spot on the couch, Stiles sitting in front of him in the beanbag.

“So,” Stiles tilted his head back to look up at Derek, “you were just casually sitting here reading porn?”

Derek almost choked on his coffee and Stiles leaned forward, covering his cup, to avoid any possible spay of hot coffee. “What,” he rasped after managing to swallow his drink.

“It’s porn with plot. That’s what those books are and I’m assuming it’s kinky shit since it belongs to Cora,” Stiles added, looking between the book and Derek’s face, which was getting redder.

Derek rubbed his eyes and sighed. “It’s a series,” he mumbled. “Coraleft them here when she finished reading them…” There was a long silence as Stiles watched Derek expectantly and Derek tried to gather his composure. He looked at Stiles and swallowed. “Do you want to read the first one?”

Stiles took a breath of disbelief before he spoke, looking at Derek in confusion. “Are you asking me if I want to sit here and read dirty werewolf books with you?”

“The main character is Bi?”

“You think I’ll want to read it just because I’m Bi,” Stiles asked with a smile. He let the words seep in as Derek seemed more and more uncomfortable. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

Stiles stood up and walked over to the large bookshelf, looking for a similar cover. He turned, about to ask where the book was and found himself face to face with Derek. He was very very close. Derek looked him in the eyes and Stiles’s mind was filled with memories of Derek shoving him against walls menacingly.

This was far from menacing.

Derek’s eyes flicked up from Stiles’s as he reached up and grabbed a book from the shelf. He looked back at Stiles, bringing the book down between them. “It’s right here… I didn’t tell you the title,” Derek said, handing Stiles the book.

Neither of them moved when Stiles grabbed the book. Derek looked down as their hands held the book. He looked back to Stiles’s eyes and let go. He took a step back and Stiles felt like he could breathe again. Derek turned and went back to sit on the couch.

Stiles was slow to do the same. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch from Derek. He looked at the book and shook his head. It was such a cliche cover only slightly different from the other. A tiny human girl and a giant, ridiculously buff guy with golden yellow eyes and no shirt. The color of the eyes threw him. “Wait, the werewolf on that cover has blue eyes,” Stiles said, pointing to Derek’s book. “Is it a different person or does he, ya know…”

“You’ll find out in the second book,” Derek said with a smirk.

Stiles groaned. “No! Just tell me,” he whined.

Derek hummed, a sly smirk crossing his face. “I’ll give you three options and you have to guess.”

“Will you tell me if I’m right,” Stiles asked, turning to face Derek.

“I haven’t decided,” Derek said and Stiles groaned.

“Fine! Give it to me,” he huffed.

Derek nodded, looking at Stiles’s book. “Option one, he has to mercy kill another member of the pack. Option two, he kills another werewolf that wanted to kill her. Option three, an ‘evil witch’ attacks them.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “A darach by any other name would suck as much,” Stiles groaned and Derek chuckled. “I fucking hate Darachs.”

“Which one do you think it is,” Derek asked, taking a sip from his coffee.

“The evil witch thing is too specific,” Stiles scoffed, leaning back. “You could have come up with better choices.”

“What makes you think I didn’t? What if more than one is right?”

Stiles glared at Derek. “Then you’re a dick.”

Derek nodded and opened his book again to read.

“You’re not going to tell me,” Stiles yelled and Derek shrugged.

“You read fast,” he said and then promptly ignored Stiles.

Kind of. He only half ignored him. It’s really hard to focus on reading when the person next to you is reading something you suggested. Everytime Stiles would hum or gasp or chuckle, Derek wanted to know what he’d just read. He wanted to put his book down and ask or lean over to see for himself. He held back laughter when Stiles started to move around, effectively wafting the smell of arousal through the room.

It was even funnier when the smell of confusion started to mix with the arousal and then overpowered it.

Derek glanced over a Stiles adn saw him tilting his head. “Well,” Derek started and Stiles nearly jumped out of his skin, “I was going to ask where you were but know I know.”

Stiles looked at Derek in confusion until, slowly, the embarrassment clouded his face. “Oh shit. Fuck, I forgot you could– This is your fault, you know!”

“I’m sure,” Derek muttered. “Shut up and read.”

Stiles glared at Derek but opened his book again. Like that, the day passed. Stiles smacked Derek with the first book when he’d finished it. Derek looked down at Stiles, who had turned himself to sit upside down on the couch at some point in the last few hours.

“That sucked,” Stiles grumbled and Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, it was really good but the ending sucked! I need book two!”

Derek rolled his eyes, checking the time. “What you need is food. It’s almost eleven and all we’ve had is coffee.”

“So,” Stiles objected. “Order some pizza and give me book two.” Derek didn’t answer him and stood up. “You have no food! I looked in there at the meeting the other day.”

“I do know where the store is,” Derek said, taking a cardboard pizza out of the freezer.

“Oh my god, I love you– ” Stiles said, red faced only because of the blood rushing to his head. No other reason. He sat up and cleared his throat, “in a… totally platonic pack member-to-pack member sort of way.”

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Three

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Stiles walked into his girlfriend’s apartment. Cecily peaked around the corner from the kitchen, her dark curls swaying as she hurried to him. She kissed Stiles and closed his eyes. He felt cloth cover his closed eyes and he pulled back. He was blindfolded. He grabbed at it, trying to rip it off. His breathing started to speed up. He couldn’t get it off. Alarms were going off in his head, making his hands shake.

“Stiles,” she said nervously, helping him pull the blindfold off. “Holy shit. I’m so sorry! Are you okay,” Cecily asked, holding his face in her hands.

Stiles looked up at her and shook his head. “Please don’t do that,” he mumbled, letting his head fall forward against her. He was safe, he had to remember that. He was with his girlfriend and everything would be fine. There were no creatures attacking them or hiding just around the corner. He was safe.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hugging him loosely. “Let me turn stuff off in the kitchen and we can relax for a bit, okay?” She let go of him and Stiles pulled back, chewing his lip.

He watched her walk away. He took his shoes off– a strong rule in her home– and waited. She returned and hugged Stiles again. Cecily led him into the living room. He sat down and she stood by awkwardly.

“I’m really sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t know it would freak you out this bad…”

Stiles was still shaking. He couldn’t quite get his breathing under control. Memories of being trapped, of being kidnapped, of white cloth bandages covering his body, of having no control over his actions, of the Nogitsune, of the Darach, of Ghost Riders, of drowning, of nearly getting killed again and again and again. It was like his body was preparing to fight for his life.

Cecily rubbed her arm. “I wanted to surprise you,” she mumbled.

Stiles dragged his eyes up from the floor to look at her and suddenly felt underdressed. Cecily was wearing a blue dress that made her dark skin seem to glow even in the apartment’s poor lighting. Her brown eyes were lined in a matching blue and a smokey eye. She was wearing her favorite silver necklace– the one he’d tried to save to get matching earrings for but he’d come up short. Stiles had just thrown on a button-up and slacks. He’d hardly brushed his hair and Cecily had obviously spent plenty of time on herself. She was tall and beautiful and Stiles was so far out of his league with her.

Stiles nodded. “Ya, ya… I, uh, just don’t do that again,” he mumbled, rubbing his hands together nervously. He could still feel the fear in the pit of his stomach. “What’s this surprise,” he asked trying to seem chipper.

Cecily’s smile returned. “Are you sure you’re okay,” she asked again and Stiles forced a smile. He nodded and she grabbed his hands to help him up. “Close your eyes and promise you won’t peek.”

Stiles closed his eyes and swallowed back the rising nerves. “You won’t let me run into anything, right?”

“No. I’m not that mean and I don’t need you bruised up when we go see my family later,” she said and Stiles almost opened his eyes in surprise.

“When are we going to see your family,” he asked nervously. He was on patrol tonight and they either had a chupacabra or vampires in the woods at the moment.

“Tonight after dinner,” she said, stopping Stiles from walking any farther. She let go of his hands and he could hear her moving around. “You can open your eyes,” Cecily said excitedly.

Stiles opened his eyes and had to stop himself from laughing. “Is that Pasta Express,” he asked with a huge smile.

Cecily smiled with him. “You’re dating me for my brains, not my cooking skills,” she told him, setting two boxes on the candle-lit table. “I did try to do homemade pasta like my mom does but I might have burnt the sauce and caked the stovetop with it.”

Stiles bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh and pulled out a chair for Cecily. “It’s perfect but one of us is eventually going to need to learn how to cook,” he joked.

Cecily hummed, “I vote you learn,” and sat down.

“We could do a cooking class together,” Stiles suggested.

“Can you get out of work long enough for that,” Cecily joked. “It’s like Beacon Hills has a never-ending stream of dangerous animals,” she sighed and Stiles nodded because she was all too right.

“Speaking of… I don’t know if I’ll be able to go to the party your family is throwing. I signed on for a night shift so we could do dinner,” Stiles told her, and Cecily’s smile fell.

“I thought you had the night off?”

“Split shift,” Stiles muttered

“My mom spent all day setting up an amazing party for our anniversary,” Cecily told him. “You said you would be off tonight for dinner.”

“And I am,” Stiles retorted. “You said dinner at six and I don’t work until nine. I figured we could have dinner, I’ll help with dishes and then we could watch a movie before I go to work.”

Cecily twirled her fork in the pasta on her plate. “Can’t you call out this one time,” she asked.

“I would if I could,” Stiles told her. Yes, he should not go on patrol where it’s his job to make sure nobody else died because of a murderous creature living in the woods of Beacon Hills that could definitely make it into the town and kill even more people.

“It’s just that… this would be the third time you skipped out on something with my family because of ‘work’,” she said slightly accusatorily, taking a mouthful of her pasta.

Stiles picked at his own food but couldn’t bring himself to stomach it. She was right. He felt like a horrible boyfriend. He was a horrible boyfriend. Maybe he should just tell her. If she knew he was trying to make sure people didn’t die, maybe she’d reconsider.

“There are a few rabid coyotes living on the edge of town,” Stiles told her. He saw the way Cecily struggled to swallow the bite of food she’d taken. “We need more than one person for that so I have to go. People could get hurt.”

Cecily laid her fork down, the topic must have killed her appetite too. “But why can’t it be someone else? You have missed date after date. You’ve had to leave early almost every time you didn’t miss them completely. You can never stay here. You come home looking like someone beat the Hell out of you regularly… If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a wife and kids or were in the mob or a gang or something,” Cecily huffed. “And I don’t think it’ll be better when you become a cop.”

Stiles was going to say something but he knew she was right. It would never be any better. He looked down at his bowl of pasta. He couldn’t stop helping. He was supposed to protect Beacon Hills and he couldn’t stop doing that.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Stiles sighed.

His phone rang and he was quick to grab it. The look on Cecily’s face told him all he needed to know. He’d seen it so many times. He was about to lose her. He was about to lose all of this. Better make it quick.

Stiles answered the phone and stood up. Cecily stood up too and it began. Telling him to come back. Warning that this was the last straw. Telling him exactly what he was doing wrong. Listing other times he’d done this same thing. Another warning. Stiles ignored it all and walked to the door. He pulled his shoes on and looked up to see Cecily down the hall.

“That damn job pulls you away from everything,” Cecily yelled, tears brimming her eyes. “Stiles, I swear to god, if you walk out that door again then it’s over.”

“I have to go,” was all Stiles could say. He opened the door and left.

Only when a grumbled “she sounded lovely” came through the phone did he realize who called.

“Where are they, Derek,” Stiles asked, not in the mood.

“Come to the apartment. We're gathering supplies," Derek told him and hung up.

Stiles groaned and rubbed his face. He walked to the jeep, thinking about what Cecily had said. Why couldn’t it be someone else? Why was Stiles the one stuck in the middle of this supernatural cluster fuck? Because Stiles was the idiot that dragged his best friend out of bed and into the woods at night to look for a dead body.

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Four

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They had gotten better about treating wounds since they started. Deaton was practically obsolete at this point. Between Stiles, Lydia, and Scott, they could stitch the pack back together on their own.

Isaac laid on the tile bathroom floor– it stained the least– and Lydia put a thick bite strap between his teeth. Scott and Liam held Isaac down and looked at Stiles. Isaac had fallen into a tiger trap pit filled with wolf's bane. As such, Stiles was going to have to burn and stuff wolfsbane into the deep stab wounds. Deep wounds, meaning the ash would have to go as far in as the spikes had.

Stiles’s hands were shaking as he tried to light the lighter. He had plenty of wounds himself, not the least of which was broken ribs. It was hard to breathe and each breath send shooting pains across his body. He was trying to ignore the pain and focus on the delicate task at hand which only served to fuel his anxiety.

A hand rested on Stiles’s shoulder and he almost moaned from the relief as his pain was slowly drained away. He closed his eyes and took a deep, painless breath. His hands slowly grew less shaky. He glanced behind him and saw Derek looming over their group wearily. He had taken the brunt of the attack and was still healing. Even so, black lines ran up his arms, leaching away Stiles’s pain.

“You don’t have to—”

“Issac needs your help. You can’t help in that much pain,” Derek grumbled, leaving no room for argument. When Stiles was steady enough, Derek stopped pulling away the pain but his hand stayed.

Treating Issac’s wounds was a long and painful process. Even with Scott and Cora holding him down, there were moments Stiles thought he might jump up and kill him for it. Something they learned the hard way was that severe pain made people and werewolves lash out, even if you were trying to help them.

It took over an hour to get everyone back to a point of semi-health. Hours that meant Stiles was late to his boyfriend’s Christmas party.

Stiles sighed, looking at the numerous missed texts from Harvey, the last of which read not to bother showing without a good reason.

“Trouble in paradise,” Cora asked.

Stiles walked into the kitchen where everyone had congregated now that they were healing. He looked down at his clothes– what was a brand new sweater and slacks– and asked “On a scale of one to ten—”

“Negative a thousand,” Cora told him harshly. “And it’s not just your clothes.”

“Gee, thanks,” Stiles grumbled at her.

Corashrugged. “I’m sorry. Did you want me to lie because you have a black eye, fresh stitches in your eyebrow, and Issac’s blood is still on your hands and clothes.”

“Actually, I think that might be my blood,” Stiles muttered.

“Point is, your man would be pissed and might actually call the cops if you showed up like that. You at least need a shower and a change of clothes,” Cora said, sliding off the counter. “You shower. I’ll raid Derek’s closet.”

“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, ask,” Lydia piped up, sipping her mug of tea to soothe her throat.

Eric snorted, “if he had any objections, he’s have made them known already.”

Stiles didn’t bother to argue with her, it would have been pointless anyway, and headed for the bathroom. He paused to look at himself in the mirror, leaning closer to see the damage. He touched the skin around his new stitches and winced. Maybe he’d get pity points for getting beat to shit.

Ya, Harvey would kill him for showing up like this to family Christmas. His parents already hated Stiles for ‘making their son gay’ and he really didn’t feel like dealing with their disgusted looks. Stiles took a breath. He wasn’t doing this for them, it was for Harvey.

He got in the shower, not letting himself dwell on the fact that even that thought didn’t make him want to go. Stiles just wanted the feeling of dried blood gone and put on clean clothes– Derek’s clean clothes– and to lay on the couch with his pack.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and it opened. “Clothes,” a gruff voice muttered. Derek. It was quiet, only the sound of running water filling the room. Stiles almost thought Derek had left, then he cleared his throat. “So, you're going to see Harry?”

Stiles scoffed in amusement, “his name is Harvey and his parents are having a Christmas party.”

Derek scrunched his nose. “Christmas isn’t for three weeks.”

“They have family in town or something,” Stiles said, carefully washing the blood off his face.

“You don’t want to go,” Derek said plainly.

“Nope.”

“Then why are you going?”

“Because I lo–” Stiles stopped. Did he? “Because Harvey wants me to.”

Stiles turned off the water and reach out of the curtain just enough to grab his towel– he didn’t remember hearing the door shut– and dried his hair carefully. He wrapped it around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He looked at Derek, waiting for him to get the hint.

“You could stay here. The others want to have a game night,” Derek shrugged.

“I would love to, big guy,” Stiles said with a smile, “but I don’t need to piss Harv off anymore. He might kill me anyway if I don’t come up with a great excuse for all this.”

Derek hummed, “deer have been crazy lately. Lots of accidents happening…”

Stiles laughed, “thanks Sourwolf. Now get out.”

Derek ducked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Stiles locked the door and shook his head with a smile. He stared blankly at the bathroom floor. What if he did lie? Surely Harvey couldn’t be mad if Stiles had hit a deer on the way and jacked up the jeep. Then again, that meant Stiles wouldn’t be able to drive the jeep until it ‘got out of the shop’ and that was just too much to commit to a lie.

An hour later, Stiles stared at the huge house blankly. He didn’t want to go in. He didn’t want the disapproving looks or the backhanded remarks. He didn’t want to hear another ‘oh, we must have forgotten’ when presents come out or get a two-dollar gift compared to everyone else’s expensyve ones. He was tired of being treated like a nuisance or as less than them. They were snobby and rich and horrible.

He put the jeep in gear and started back to the apartment he shared with Harvey. He trudged up the stairs and looked around. He couldn’t help but scoff at the stupid expensive furniture Harvey had insisted on and started packing what little belonged to him.

He was carrying one of his bags to the door when Harvey walked in. Stiles ducked his head, not wanting to face him.

Harvey huffed a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t fucking believe you,” he said. “What? Were you fucking your side piece? Is that why you missed my parents’ party?”

“What are you talking about,” Stiles asked, walking back to their room to pack more of his clothes.

“Oh, don’t play stupid,” Harvey said, following Stiles to the bedroom. “I knew you were lying, nobody works that fucking much, I just didn’t think you were cheating on me!” Stiles looked at Harvey in shock. "I'm not an idiot! What, did you think I wouldn't notice that you came home in different clothes? In Derek fucking Hale's clothes?"

Stiles frowned, more confused than ever. "How do you know Derek?"

"I followed you! I knew you weren't at work."

"Obviously not long enough! I work with Derek! Us and some other people we work with met at his place so we took fewer vehicles!"

Harvey scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure you did. You don’t even know what day I’m talking about."

"You're an ass! Can't you see my face," Stiles said, pointing at his eyebrow. "I had to get fucking stitches! How do you explain that if I'm cheating on you?"

"Considering your new boy toy has been a murder suspect more than once—"

"Don’t fucking talk about him like that," Stiles said bitterly, throwing his clothes in the bag. "I'm getting my shit and leaving. We're fucking done."

Harvey scoffed, "my parents were right about you," and walked away.

Stiles didn’t answer no matter how much he wanted to. It wasn’t worth it. He just packed his stuff and put it in the jeep.

He sat there feeling lost. He was back to living with his dad until he got a new apartment. Was it him? It really seemed like it at this point.

Everything was a mess. Was there any point in him dating now? Or ever? He had to put the safety of the city at the top of his priorities; not dates, not sleep, not school, not family, not even himself.

Fuck it.

He drove to Derek’s apartment and walked up the stairs. He flopped down on the couch between Scott and Derek and groaned.

"Just fucking shoot me if I ever try to get an apartment with someone again," Stiles groaned.

"It would probably be easier if you told them or, better yet, date someone who already knows," Lydia said. "That's what we did."

"Ya, Derek said that too," Stiles muttered.

"Have you maybe stopped to think that I might know what I'm talking about," Derek asked.

"No. Not, really," Stiles said sarcastically. "Think about it! Who would I end up dating then? Huh, Derek?"

Theo snorted and Liam shook his head. Stifled laughs ran through the room and the side conversation and mumbled comments went back to usual.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax. He was with his friends so who gave a shit about a stupid boyfriend? He opened his eyes, intending on forgetting about his dumpter fire of a love life, and he saw Hayden sitting in the armchair with Liam and painter her nails while he held the polish bottle. He rolled his eyes. Forgetting about dating is easier said than done when your entire friend group was in a relationship.

Worse yet, he couldn’t even wallow in his pity silently because they could all tell.

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Five

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Stiles knocked on his boyfriend’s door. He shifted nervously as he waited. The door opened to reveal his smiling, fantastic, sweet, boyfriend.

“Hey you,” Evan said with a smile. He looked Stiles over and saw how nervous he was. “Is everything okay?”

“Ya,” Stiles said, not looking very sure of his answer. “Ya, everything’s good. We just– I need to tell you some things and…”

Evan’s smile fell. “Okay,” he opened the door more to let Stiles in. He stopped him with a hand on his chest right as he crossed the threshold of the door. “I have two questions but I’m going to sound like an ass for the first one…” Stiles nodded and Evan took a deep breath. “Did you… you didn’t cheat on me, right?”

“What,” Stiles asked, his eyes going wide. “No! No, god no.”

“I figured it was a stupid question but, you know… Question two: are you moving away? Because other than those two things, I think we can make anything work, and moving might not have to be a big deal either if… Are you moving,” he asked softly.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Stiles said, starting to feel more at ease. They could make it work. Evan said they could make anything work. Maybe telling him about the pack wouldn’t be so bad.

Evan kissed Stiles and he could taste the hot chocolate Evan had been drinking. He was so warm and sweet and Stiles pulled him closer, savoring the moment in case it was the last.

All those fears came rushing back. What if Evan thought he was crazy or he hated him or he called him psychotic or a lier. The feeling of Evan’s hand resting on his cheek pulled him back from the fear. They could make anything work.

Evan pulled away to breath and laughed. “You look fucking drunk off one kiss,” he teased, pulling Stiles further into the apartment.

“Let’s sit down. I have something important to talk to you about,” Stiles said, noticing that Evan was starting to pull him towards the bedroom. “Maybe in the living room?”

Evan stopped and looked at Stiles sceptically. “Promise you aren’t proposing first,” he said.

Stiles shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Do you want me to… soon,” Stiles asked in confusion.

Evan thought for a moment and answered, “no. Not until we graduate, at least.”

Stiles nodded, leaning in to kiss Evan again. They walked back to the living room and sat down together. Stiles chewed his lip, not sure where to start.

“I’m not crazy.” Great start Stiles. No crazy person ever says that. Evan huffed a laugh so maybe Stiles hadn’t completely screwed up. “I’m about to tell you some really unbelievable things. You won’t want to believe them because of how unbelievable they are but you should believe them because they’re true.”

“What?”

Stiles should really be better at explaining this by now. What he did know was that it was better to run through all of it and take questions at the end. “Supernatural creatures are real. All of them; well, pretty much. Werewolves, Banshee, Kitsune, Vampires– all the things that go bump in the night are real. My friends– Scott, Derek, Liam, Isaac, kind of Malia– they’re all werewolves– I mean, Malia’s a werecoyote. Lydia’s a banshee and Kira’s a Kitsune. And we all fight evil supernatural creatures that try to kill or take over Beacon Hills because this thing called the Nemeton is attracting all of them here after Scott and ME and this girl Allison all died a while back and reactivated the magic and… Please don’t give me that look,” Stiles said, looking at Evan. He was giving Stiles the you’re insane but I’m more scared than worried look.

Evan looked like he wanted to laugh but couldn’t. He thought it was a joke except that Stiles was acting so serious. He swallowed a lump in his throat and took Stiles’s hand in his. “Stiles, are you being serious?”

“Yes,” Stiles said firmly. He was terrified of what would come next. God, Evan thought he was crazy. He thought Stiles had lost it was was definitely going to want to have him committed or something.

Evan nodded and took a deep breath. “None of that is real. There is no such thing–”

“There is and I can prove it,” Stiles said, pulling his hand out of Evan’s to grab his phone.

“Are you on something? Like, did you get high or take some halucenegenics when you went camping with your friends,” Evan asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, look,” Stiles said, showing Evan a picture of some of the pack in bate shifts.

Evan finally laughed, his head falling in his hands like Stiles had just told him the funniest joke ever. He looked at the picture and smiled. “That’s really cool makeup but… why don’t they have eyebrows,” Evan asked. “What, is this for a film class?”

Stiles sighed. “No! It’s not a class and it’s definitely not makeup but I’m glad someone else noticed the eyebrow thing,” Stiles huffed. “No, Evan, it’s real.”

Evan’s smile slowly fell. “You really believe all of this, don’t you?”

“Please trust me! You can meet Scott and he can show you. Or Danny! Danny’s human but he knows all about it!”

Evan nodded, sitting up and subtly leaning away from Stiles. “I’m going to say this in the nicest way I possibly can: you need to talk to someone– a professional– about what you just told me,” Evan said, starting to pick at his nails. It was a nervous habit he’d almost kicked; he only did it was afraid now.

“I mean, probably. I’ve died twice and come close to it god only knows how many times.” Stiles huffed. It felt almost easy. It felt like a weight had fallen off his shoulder now that he could speak honestly even if he sounded insane. “I haven’t had a normal life since, what, sophomore year of high school when Scott was bitten.”

“I’m… going to call your dad, okay. You stay here,” Evan said and stood up. Stiles stood up too.

“Why are you calling him?”

“Stiles, you’re sick. I think it would be best if someone drove to somewhere where you can get help, okay,” Evan said gently, standing up and walking toward his kitchen.

“I’m not crazy,” Stiles yelled, following his boyfriend. “I can prove it to you if you’d just– I can facetime Scott and he can show you! His eyes ruin pictures! They turn red and he grows fangs and hair on his face—”

“That’s not real,” Evan yelled back. “You are delusional! You’re brain is- is making things up! It’s not your fault but none of that is real!”

Stiles froze. Was he crazy? What if he had made up that last six years? What if he really was delusional? What if… “No, ya know what, call my dad! He knows the truth. He’ll tell you the same thing I did, are you going to say he’s crazy?”

“You convinced your dad that– Stiles, you need help,” Evan said, his voice shaking. “You’re freaking me out. I don’t know how to help.”

“Trust me! For five minutes, trust that I’m not crazy,” Stiles sighed.

Evan shook his head. “You just told me that monsters are real and you want me to believe you?”

“I just–” Stiles growled out of irritation. “I told Derek this was a horrible idea,” he huffed.

“Stiles, I—”

“Can I do anything to make you believe I’m not fucking insane,” Stiles asked in a huff. Evan shook his head and Stiles took a raged breath. “Okay… Well, I’m not lying so,” Stiles huffed, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Then we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“Stiles, you need help,” Evan said softly.

“But not for what you think,” Stiles told him. “I love you but… this just isn’t going to work.”

Stiles left Evan’s apartment and sat in the jeep. He felt tears starting to roll down his face. He was embarrassed and frustrated and scared and just… lost. How was he ever supposed to find someone to share the wild, unpredictable, insane life he lived with someone if nobody would give him a change or believe him when he tried to explain? It was almost like the world wanted him to be alone.

Stiles wiped his face and went where he knew he’d be welcomed in the mess of a state he was in. He went to Derek’s.

Like every time before, the door was unlocked. This time, Derek wasn’t on the couch with a book. This time, Derek was at the door when Stiles walked in. No doubt he could hear Stiles’s frantic heart rate, the pained emotions rolling off of him and the scent of tears on his clothes.

“You got a tv,” Stiles commented, holding back tears. He could see Derek’s eyes searching for injury or blood, anything to warent the amount of distress Stiles was in.

“What happened,” Derek asked.

And, fuck, Stiles couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I told him,” Stiles mumbled in a broken voice, tears filling his eyes at the words. He sniffed, rubbing his eyes as discretely as he could. “I knew it would happen, that he’d think I was fucking crazy but… Why does it hurt so bad?”

Derek walked back to Stiles with a fresh cup of coffee. He must have started it when he unlocked the door. He stood, waiting, watching.

“He’s amazing, Derek. Evan is so… He’s funny and patient and fucking gorgous. His perfect black hair and green eyes. The way he listened and never made me feel like I was too loud or talkative and that smile.” Stiles huffed a sad laugh. “He always tasted like sugar because of that damn sweet tooth.”

“Stiles,” Derek grumbled.

“No, you’re right,” Stiles mumbled. “He sucks! He didn’t even give me a second to explain and just instantly went to me being crazy! He was gonna call my dad and tell him I needed help! What kind of person just passes the buck when their friend– their boyfriend infact– needs help? You wouldn’t do that– I mean, you might have in the past but you just don’t do that to a friend!” Stiles looked at Derek, the sadness changing to anger the more he thought about it. “I tried to prove it to him and he didn’t want to listen or see it. He just wanted to get crazy-fucking-Stiles out of his apartment!”

Derek listened to Stiles rant, placing a hand on his back to gently guide him to the couch. Derek sat on the couch and grabbed the tv remote. He nodded along with Stiles’s rambling as he clicked around to find a movie. He squinted at the screen, trying to read the titles with Stiles in the way.

“And the worst part of it is—” Derek clicked play. “Is that New Hope?” Stiles sat down on the couch with Derek, his eyes on the screen.

It was like pushing pause on Stiles’s brain. Stiles was watching and quoting lines from the movie; he’d watched hundreds of times. He’d say his favorite lines louder than others. Derek found himself smiling at Stiles. It used to annoy him that Stiles said the lines along with the characters but it started to grow on him. Now he found it almost endearing.

They watched all three movies– well, Derek did. At some point during The Empire Strikes Back, Stiles laid on the couch like he would with the pack. His head was on Derek’s leg and his feet were over the arm of the couch. Stiles fell asleep halfway through Return of the Jedi. It was how Derek had learned he actually did like Star Wars, watching them with Stiles and still watching when he feel asleep.

When the movie ended, Derek moved to grab the remote and turned it off. He set the remote down, his hand going back to where it had been before– playing with Stiles’s hair. Derek picked up his book and started reading again.

With the movie off and the strange silence of the apartment, Stiles was drifting in and out of sleep. The feeling of someone playing with his hair helped him fade back to sleep even in the deafening silence. He squinted his eyes, looking into the black sceen of the tv reflecting his own image back to him. He could see them on the couch. He closed his eyes, feeling like things were finally right, He opened his eyes again, remembering where he was, and his heart rate jumped. Derek. It was Derek playing with his hair.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, lowering his book. The hand in Stiles’s hair stopped, moving away.

"Huh? Oh," Stiles mumbled, sitting up. "Ya… Ya, I'm fine." He rubbed his eyes, not even thinking about the response. Ways to pass a werewolf lie detector.

Derek glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s almost two. You might as well go to sleep.”

“What about you,” Stiles asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

Derek took a deep breath. “I don’t sleep much,” he mumbled.

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Six

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“Of fucking course it’s a Darach! All the animals are acting weird with runes randomly appearing near by? Darach! And I said that! But does anyone listen to Stiles? Noooo! It’s all ‘Scott, what do we do’ and ‘Lydia do you know about this’ and ‘Peter do you know’ and ‘Let’s just charge in and GET OURSELVES KILLED’!””

“Okay, Stiles. We get it. You were right,” Malia mumbled.

“Again! I was right again,” Stiles said. “For once, why can’t it be gnomes or a ghost? Hell, at this point I’d take pixies!”

“If you’r so smart then what should be do,” Malia asked, glaring at him.

Stiles looked at her, deadpan. “The same thing we do everytime there’s a Darach, load up on weapons and Mistletoe.”

“That’s great and all but we don’t know who it is,” Scott said.

“Why don’t we just follow the invitations,” Lydia asked, holding up on of the red envelopes that had been left on the pack’s porch and Stiles cringed.

“Oh, so we’re going with those being a part of this and not actually being Stiles and Derek’s wedding announcements,” Theo asked, as pompous as ever.

“Shut up,” Liam grumbled.

“Stiles and Derek are hardly friends. I don’t think they plan on getting married anytime soon,” Scott scoffed.

“Definately not getting married,” Theo muttered, “Derek made the smart move and ran. Not that I blame him,” he said, looking at Stiles.

*************************

“I fucking hate Darachs,” Stiles mumbled. “They always choose the worst hide-outs.” He scratched his arm. He was getting chewed up by chiggers and mosquitos as he followed the werewolves through an especially grassy area in the woods.

“Shut up and pick up the pace,” Theo grumbled, pushing Stiles from behind him. He was especially bitchy today. Stiles didn’t see why, he wasn’t the one covered in itchy, bleeding bug bites.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Someone needs to get laid,” he mumbled, earning a warning growl from Theo. Stlies almost laughed. Being growled at is a lot less threatening when you had seen the person whine like a kicked puppy because the person the were cuddling moved.

The pack crept deeper into the forest, they could hear music. It grew louder and more clear the closer they got. Drums and gongs and a woman singing rang through the forest. They shared a look of confusion as they drew closer.

There was a clearing in the woods. Even if you didn’t know it was there before, you couldn’t miss it now. It shown with daylight in the dark forest. It grew warmer as they drew closer. The clearing was full of color and light. When they got close enough, they could see a young woman singing and dancing in the clearing. She wore a long red dress, her gold bracelets and necklace jingling and clinking together as she danced. Her black hair was pined up. The whole clearing was filled with red leaves and golden decorations, blessings of happiness, as a cold spring breeze filled the rest of the forest.

“You should distract her,” Theo whispered to Stiles and he looked at him like he was crazy.

“What? No way!”

Lydia shrugged, “it is your wedding.”

Stiles looked around at the group, hearing no objections. “You’re going to feel really bad if I get sacrificed. Again.”

He stood up, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his favorite grey hoodie and started into the clearing. It was like walking through a portal. It felt weird and disorrienting. He looked back and saw no signs of the forest behind him. He looked down at himself to take note that he was still in tact.

His hoodie and jeans had been turned to a red and gold Chang Pao Ma Gua. He felt strings and cypress leaves in his hair. Gold bracelets jinggled as he moved his hands. “What the Hell,” he sighed.

“Ah, the boy who walks with wolves,” the girls said in Middle Chinese, looking at Stiles excitedly. “Where is your wolf?”

“I have no clue what you’re you’re saying but I don’t think it’s good,” Stiles said.

“It is good, child. I have brought you hear to show you and bridge a gap you won’t by yourself,” the woman declared in english, looking about. “Where is your wolf?”

“My what,” Stiles asked.

“The wolf,” she said patiently as if she was speaking to a little kid. “Where is he?”

Leaves rustled as the pack stepped into the clearing. None of their clothes changed as they stepped in which was so stupid, why was it just Stiles? The woman looked at each face and shook her head.

“No, no. Not that one. Where is your wolf, dear boy,” she asked calmly. The woman took Stiles’s hand in hers. Stiles didn’t pull away, feeling a kind of calm as she held his hand. When she touch him, strings appeared. Green and Blue and Black and Red strings each tied to one of his fingers appeared.

“Holy shit,” Stiles yelled.

Scott moved forward, placing a hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Are you okay…. Whoah. What the…”

“Uh, Dude. Can you see this,” Stiles asked.

The woman lifts the red string with a finger, she hums at the tension in the string and smiles to herself. “Strange. I thought he’d be here,” she hummed.

An arrow whizzed through the air and stuck into the woman. As close as she was, the the feather at the end of the arrow brush Stiles as the woman moved. She straightened up and looked downa t the arrow quizzically.

“Sorry Stiles,” Hayden said, cringing. Sometimes Stiles wished she’d stick to claws.

“Mistletoe,” she whispered, pulling it out of her chest. “What a silly choice,” she said with a smile looking at the pack, spotting Hayden who had readied another arrow. “Dear girl, what do you think I am?”

Stiles looked at the woman. “You’re not a Darach?”

“A Darach?” The woman laughs. “Silly wolves, I’m not a Darach. I’m Yue Lao.” Her eyes landed on Kira among the pack. “Gekkahyoujin for the little fox.”

“Isn’t Gekkahyoujin an old man,” Kira asked, trying to recall the stories she’d been told as a child.”

“Gods are not bound to one form my dear,” the woman, Yue Lao told her.

“Why are you here,” Malia asked.

Yue Lao looked up at her. “Isn’t it obvious? Look around, dear child! This was to be a wedding. Look up at the beautiful moon and see. You will understand soon my child.”

Without another word, the woods was left bare. The pack was left to look around in bewilderment. It was all gone in a second.

“Uh, dude,” Scott said.

Stiles didn’t pay any attention to whatever Scott was trying to point out, to struck by how the strings remained tired to his fingers. His gaze came to his wrist and saw red clothing. He pulled at his hoodie and noticed it had been turned red.

“Aw man,” Stiles sighed.

After a conversation with Kira and a few minutes of research, it was obvious what they were: Strings of fate. He knows what the red is but he can't see who it’s is attached to. The others took more to figure out. Blue is friendship. Blue strings connect him to most of the pack. Green is for relatives. Black makes him sick. He has two black strings that look like they were cut. Black means the person your string was tied to died. They all have black strings. Scott has the most.

He’d noticed that all of his strings looked like thay had been knotted, so had Scott’s. He wondered if it had something to do with the whole dying and coming back thing Sophmore year.

Stiles learned he could tell when someone he was tied to was close. He joked it was his own supernatural super sense. He decided then that he didn't want to meet who his red string was tied to until all this supernatural bullshit was over– meaning never.

Time came and went. Derek had yet to come back, something about a Kanima in San Francisco. Stiles started to like sitting in the park, watching people. He smiles when he sees couples with red strings that connect them tied in a neat bow. He’d learned that that bow was a turning point. For some it was marriage or a kid or almost losing each other. He cried the first time he watches a string snap and turn black. The person didn't notice.

When the pack learns what he can see, they ask about their strings. Stiles refuses to tell Scott he doesn't have a red string. He's pretty sure Scott's red string turned black.

Stiles was sitting in the park when he got a text from Derek that he’s back and Stiles shivers. He can't imagine the number of black strings he has. So, Stiles avoids seeing it. He only talks with the pack through calls and texts. It’s strange. He had grown used to spending time at Derek’s. It was like he realized how much free time he really had.

Stiles froze the first time he felt the string get really tight. He knew they were close so he ran. He ran as in the opposite direction so he dind’t have to know. Anytime his red string tightened, he went in the opposite direction no matter how his heart aches to know. He wants so badly to have someone to love and be loved by. But meeting the person he was meant to be with felt too risky. His supernatural baggage had destroyed so many relationships and he couldn't risk this one.

Seeing the world wrapped up in strings got overwhelming. Seeing people's loved ones silently slipping away was wearing on him.

Stiles found himself walking through the preserve with a bottle of Jack far too many nights. He was trying to escape other people. He didn't know why he was there instead of his room but he was. He doen’t know why the preserve felt safe, it wasn’t. Ever type of monster and big bad had come through the preserve.

He was out one night and found the clearing what they’d met Yue Lao. He drunkenly giggled to himself. It was about a good a spot as any to lay down and drown in his sorrows. He'd blame the alcohol for numbing him to the tightening of his red string but he felt it, he just didn’t care. He was too tired, too overwhelmed, too drunk, too done with it all.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t move when he started hearing footsteps. Stiles lifted his head as the string tugged on his pinky and saw Derek walk into the clearing.

Stiles dropped his head back to the ground. "Of course, it's you," Stiles chuckled drunkenly, slowly shaking his head. He closes his eyes, feeling dizzy.

"Are you going to be able to find your way home later," Derek asked, walking closer.

"Sure," Stiles slurs. He could feel how close Derek was but refused to look at him. He didn't want to see the black strings hanging off of him. It would hurt too much.

"Any reason you won't look at me?"

Stiles hums. "The world's spinning too much," he mumbled. It wasn't a lie, just not the whole truth.

Stiles had learned werewolves couldn't tell the difference. If something was objectively true and you believed it was at least partially true, they couldn't tell. That and them not being able to accurately tell lies over the phone were major tools in Stiles's arsenal.

Derek sighed that annoyed sigh he always did when the pack did something stupid– like a disappointed parent Stiles thought. Derek would believe the half-truth, Stiles knew that for sure. It was very believable at the moment. Stiles probably reeks of alcohol to the werewolf. He'd managed to spill some on himself when he broke the seal. Stiles could tell his breath smelled of the stuff.

Derek looked around the forest. It was teeming with life. It was unsettling that Stiles had seemingly unknowingly laid himself on the ground not far from the Nematon. Were it anyone else, Derek would have already left them to fend for themselves, but it was Stiles.

"If you don't plan on dying out here, you might want to head back," Derek said, watching the treeline as much as he watched Stiles.

Stiles groaned. "Come here, Derek," he sighed.

He heard the leaves crunching as Derek walked closer and Stiles smirked. Derek grunted, falling back on his ass. Stiles laughed to himself. He’d surrounded himself in mountain ash for the very reason of being in the preserve. The image in his head was too good not to get to see the real thing.

Stiles opened his eyes, using his hand to help him balance as he rolled to his side, and looked at Derek. His laughing quickly ceased, his mouth going dry. It was like all the air had been knocked out of him. Stiles thought it would be the black strings that hung heavily off Derek that would throw him but that red string… Stiles’s eyes followed the tight line of red string from Derek to his hand.

When Stiles’s brain caught up to what it was seeing, an avalanche of thoughts and memories piled onto him. It’s Derek. Of course, it’s Derek. He went to Derek every time someone kicked him to the curb. Derek didn’t need Stiles’s chaos dragging him down. Derek had let Stiles rant to him for hours. Derek was more than out of his league, he was out of Stiles’s universe! Derek had played with Stiles’s hair when he fell asleep on him. Derek was still trying to get used to letting people in. Derek had never turned Stiles away when he showed up at random. Derek had been burned by relationships every time he tried. Stiles had abandoned his dreams and let his lovelife fall apart to help Derek and the pack. Derek didn’t need to worry about Stiles’s human ass all the time. Didn’t he already? Wasn’t Derek the one pulling away Stiles’s pain while he was stitched up after fights? It was stupid and would never happen. Stiles had yet to see the strings be wrong, though. They were always right in the end. It didn’t matter because Derek deserved better! He deserved more than Stiles. He deserved someone who knew what was going on. Someone who would be helplfull in protecting Beacon Hills, not someone who was one good hit away from death. He was seven years older than Stiles! Stiles was a child next to him. Derek shouldn’t have to play babysitter for a stupid, talkitive, hyperactive, loud, annoying—

“—iles! Stiles!”

Stiles was staring at Derek, at that stupid string. His breathig was fast. It was hard to take a full breath– hey, when did that happen? Stiles squeezed his eyes closed again. Fuck his head hurt. He could feel his pulse against his skull. Stiles dug his fingers into the dirt beneath him. Breath. Calm down, breath. He opened his eyes, trying to ground himself, and saw Derek fighting to get through the mountain ash surrounding him. He closed his eyes again, his hand sweeping out of it’s own accord and breaking the circle.

Leaves crunched and shifted as Derek crawled the last bit of distance between them. He Pushed Stiles to sit up, a hand pressed to his back to hold him up and the other on his arm.

Stiles opened his eyes, he wanted to see the red string, just to be sure but not before– “I’m gonna throw up,” he mumbled, turning away from Derek and Barfing all over the forest floor. Stiles leaned into Derek, feeling him tense. Stiles huffed a laugh, looking down at Derek’s hand next to his.

And a little red string tied in a neat bow.

Stiles smiled at it and, just as quickly as they appeared, all of the strings were gone.

“Derek?”

“What?”

Stiles took a breath and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything…”

This time it was Derek who laughed. “Gonna have to be more specific than that,” he said.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek tensed for a moment and then relaxed next to Stiles, pulling him closer. “I know I love you.”

“Just had to one-up me,” Stiles huffed a laugh. “As romantic as this is, could we maybe not end up having our first kiss by a pile of my own vomit?”

Derek nodded, helping Stiles stand up. “Believe me, you won’t have to worry about doing any kissing until you brush your teeth and sober up.”

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