#she's giving camp!!!! she's serving!!!!

[dadvans]

s6 rewatch

the back half of season 6 is so underappreciated. you have: cursed pompeii bracelet, a ghost keeps calling 9-1-1 dispatch until chimney buys its house, buck dies for 3 minutes and experiences an it's a wonderful life coma dream where bobby is a pill popping manic pixie nightmare (best version of bobby only second to s5 treasure hunt bobby who has strategic treasure maps of los angeles), buck gets temporary superpowers where he can do quick math so he and eddie go scam a poker game...

like every episode is really yakkity sax shark jumping played so sincerely, and i love it. my favorite version of this show is when it's both heartfelt and also the storytelling equivalent of a scooby doo gang running from monsters musical interlude

[entitled-fangirl]

A perfect match indeed.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: the reader is forced alongside her father for a hunt, pestered by him to consider accepting a betrothal offer.

Masterlist

...........................................

"Lord Tyland," Y/n mused as she looked to the Lord.

Tyland turned and smiled warmly to the girl, "Princess, I did not expect your presence at a hunt."

"Well, I'm a woman of surprises."

"That you are." He looked around at the various tents and the men that walked around the camp. The princess was one of the few women there. "Do you hunt, your grace?"

"Hmm? Oh." She picked at her fingers, a nervous habit she had no doubt picked up from her mother. "I have before but… father has dragged me alongside him this time, I'm afraid."

"Unwillingly?"

She hummed. "In the name of 'betrothal opportunities'."

His face flushed, "My." He cleared his throat in an uncomfortable manner. "Any… any men catch the eye of our princess then?"

She shook her head as her eyes scanned the crowds. She sighed. "None at all. I'm afraid I'm not interested in such affairs." She looked back up to Tyland. "Father tried this with my elder sister years ago, didn't he?"

Tyland stuttered over his words, "I… I… Yes, Princess… yes, he did."

She huffed, "Perhaps he'll always be cursed to have strong Targaryen women encircling him at all times, for I will not be doing his bidding."

"I see it more of an opportunity to choose for yourself. He's giving you this as a freedom."

"Some freedom," she mocked.

"Careful, your grace. He is merciful for this." He sighed. "Not many fathers give their daughters such a chance. Just consider it."

"Fine. But… I will not actively search it out."

"And that's enough."

…

"No!" She yelled as she stood in the middle of the tent in front of her father, King Viserys.

"My daughter," he commanded softly. "Do not yell at your king."

"Father, I wish for the freedom to live as I see fit," she tried to reason.

"Well, that is not your right. Your right is to serve the crown, and you have yet to do so."

"I may only serve you by bearing the children of a random lord?" She scoffed.

"I am not going to send you to war in armor that would hang from your frame," he scoffed back, his tone becoming annoyed and biting. 

At this point, various people in the tent began to stare.

"Oh, you'd rather have me close my eyes and merely point to a lord and fuck him?"

Viserys tilted his head challengingly, "Exactly."

She let out a mocking laugh in shock. "Fine," she snorts. "I will do so."

She marches from the tent, confident that her father would follow her. 

She looked out over the sea of men around the tents. "I will do it."

Viserys' challenging look grew, "Very well."

"I…" She faltered a moment, expecting him to give in. When he didn't, she huffed and covered her eyes with one hand. "Then… then I will."

Her arm rose up, her index finger pointing.

"Him."

A hum came from Viserys. 

"Alright."

She pulled her hand from her face and dropped her arm.

She spun around to speak to her father, but he was gone and a voice boomed from inside the tent.

"My daughter has accepted a betrothal to Lord Cregan Stark!"

Y/n's eyes widened incredulously. Her head snapped over to the direction she had been previously pointing in. 

She was met with equally wide dark eyes. 

Cregan Stark stood stiffly outside of his house tent, his sword almost dropping from his hand. 

The two barely heard the cheers from inside the tent as they just stared at one another. 

Finally, she broke the contact, turning and moving into the tent. 

She dodge and swerved around the various people that tried to stop her to give their congratulations. 

She caught up to her father, whisper-shouting, "What are you doing?"

Viserys turned, "You stated your intentions, and so have I. Stark is a wonderful match. I could not have made a better one myself."

Otto Hightower stepped in, "Your grace, it is a perfect match indeed."

"I thought we were jesting with one another. I do not want to marry him."

"It is too late for that," Viserys mused. "You're now betrothed to the Warden of the North."

She remembers him in small details from the Stark family visits to King's Landing. But they were just children then.

Since then, she had heard rumors of the man. Brutal. Harsh. A formidable enemy as cold as the Wall. Rumor has it, he could hack a head clean off with a single swing of his sword.

What a betrothal indeed. 

…

She had avoided Stark the entire day, not missing the way his eyes would follow her any time she stepped outside of the tent. 

Mortified from her actions, she gained little sleep that night. 

…

The day of the hunt, Y/n was on edge. With little sleep and a horrid feeling in her gut at her father's insistence of the betrothal, she clicked at her horse, sending it into a light trot and moving past some of the other riders. 

She recognized the Stark hair, pulled up in a messy updo and she rode passed him with no motion of resistance. 

She could feel his eyes on her. 

And when one of the men remarked something quietly about the fair-haired Targaryen princess, she heard the rustling of Cregan punching the man in the arm harshly. 

"I do not understand the true action of a hunt like this," she said when she rode up next to her father. 

"It is about adrenaline! Men live for the chase!" Viserys exclaimed excitedly from his horse. 

"But it is an entire band of men against one animal. How does that bring about adrenaline, Father?"

Otto quipped beside them from his horse, "It brings fellow huntsmen together. 'Tis better than gossiping in the tents with the women. Gossip does nothing to bring food to the table."

"If you truly do not believe women to appreciate this, then why was I forced to ride alongside?"

Viserys grinned, "You're to speak to your betrothed."

She let out a low chuckle and looked up at the clouds, "You are… truly to be the death of me, Father."

"Give the boy a chance."

"He's not a boy anymore."

"Even more reason to try."

She sighed and looked over her shoulder to see him, noticing his eyes were already on her.

"Get to know him just a little. For my sake," the king finally reasoned. 

"Fine."

She pulled the reigns, steering her horse from the group. She rode back down the band until Cregan moved to pass, and she quickly righted her horse next to him. 

He was a bit thrown off from her actions but made no move to show it. "Princess," his deep voice acknowledged.

"Lord Stark."

The corners of his lips quirked up, "Have I done something, your grace?"

"Hmm?"

"Have I done something?" He repeated. "You've made no motion to speak to me until now. I hope I have not offended you in some manner."

Of course he was a fucking gentleman. 

She shook her head. "I… I just thought that perhaps I'd give you a chance."

His head tilted, "A chance, Princess?" 

She bit her lip in thought. "I wish to know you better. That is all."

"Ah." 

The two rode in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say to one another.

Finally, Cregan broke it. "What do you wish to know then, Princess?"

"Tell me of Winterfell."

He leans back in his saddle with a smile at the mention of his home. "Where to begin? Perhaps it will not be as interesting to you as you live in the Keep, but…" He tilted his head back and forth, "It's warm. Quite warm, despite the biting cold that lives outside its doors." His smile grew as he looked at her, "And I shall keep it warm enough for the Dragon blood that will be within its walls, I promise."

She chuckled lightly at that. "I shall depend on your word then, I suppose."

"If I may," he questioned. "Why did you accept my proposal?"

"If I am being entirely honest to you, Lord Stark, I did not know that you had made one until we were already betrothed."

He hummed, taking in her words. He looked back to the path. "That is perhaps a blessing and a curse."

"How so?"

"I did not expect a Targaryen Princess to accept a Stark betrothal and therefore I… I did not try very earnestly."

Her brows furrowed, "How is that a blessing?"

He smirked as he looked at her, "Cause it wasn't memorable enough for you to recall in this moment. I have not embarrassed myself completely."

She nodded along with his words before a thought came to her. "Do you not wish to marry me, then?"

"I never stated that." He was quick to defend.

"But you-"

"-I am honored that I am yours, Princess. Do not think differently."

She felt like she could get lost in the dark eyes of the Stark of the North.

.....................................

A/n: There will def be a part 2

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne

[latenightdaydreams]

Jason/Masked Killer!Konig who’s been watching camp counselor reader tend to the kids. She’s so motherly and perfect, and all he wants is her with her stomach swelled up. So he takes what he wants (reader dont mind cause she a freak). Anyways, He’s seen the way her fingers reach deep and deep but never hit that spot when she’s in her private bunk.

JasonAU!König x Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 2

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, stalking, mommy issues, breast milk, p in v, breeding kink, voyeurism

1.1k word count

🏕️

.

.

There is something about you that is different from all of the other camp counselors he’s come in contact with over the years. You have a certain light that emanates from your eyes and the way you smile. The children all flock to you and feel secure when you’re near, like a natural mother figure. It’s something König himself has always craved.

Typically, the camp counselors are hyper sexual and negligent; drinking and smoking while having unprotected sex. Yet here you are in your bunk, a little after midnight watching a video on your phone. You have the blankets kicked off because it is so hot. Your legs are spread open, revealing you aren’t wearing any underwear underneath your nightgown.

You have dainty little fingers that you do desperately slip in and out, but you never cum. König watches with his cock out in his hands, vigorously, stroking his cock as he watches you. It’s sad to watch how… unfulfilled you look when he knows he can give you everything you need.

König is up early the next morning, waiting on you. You are always the first one up and the only one cooking breakfast. The thought of you in a home with him, cooking for him and your large family drives him wild. He closes his eyes and listens to your soft little hums, letting his mind run wild with the thought.

He envisions you in a tight house dress with a big belly and milk stains from your leaking breasts. You serve him his breakfast and sit on his lap, cutting up his food for him and feeding him. When he’s thirsty he pulls down the front of your dress, suckling in your breast and drinking from you.

The sound of other voices snaps him from his thoughts. Other counselors have woken up so he backs off, keeping a close eye on you throughout the day. Tonight is the night; he can’t wait any longer for you.

 As the sun sets over the lake you walk into the kitchen to gather items for smores. You hum the same tune as earlier as the sound of children and counselors enjoying themselves in the water is in the background. König slowly stalks behind you with steady steps to not cause the old wooden floors to creak.

You stop humming and the small break causes you to hear a light thump of someone’s footstep. Assuming that it is just one of the other workers, you ignore the footsteps and continue to hum. As you lean forward to reach the box of graham crackers on the top shelf, an arm wraps around your waist. The box goes flying into the air as you react with shock. A scream leaves your lips but is quickly muffled by his large hand covering your mouth.

König effortlessly lifts you into the air and walks you across the way to your cabin. His shoulder slams the door open. He then tosses you onto your bed, watching as you scramble and turn to look at him. A mask covering his face, only his piercing blue eyes visible. His body is muscular, towering over your smaller frame.

“Please don’t kill me.” Your voice trembles with fear.

“You’re mine.” König growls.

König turns to shut the door before marching over to you on the bed, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you down to the bed. His eyes meet yours, there is a fearful look, but also something else. He tilts his head, studying you for a moment. With his free hand he lifts up your shirt and looks down at your soft looking flesh.

His eyes dart back up to yours as he slowly releases your hair, making sure you wouldn’t try to run. You don’t move, instead you watch him closely as he pulls up more of your shirt to expose your bra. He wastes no time in pulling down your bra to expose yourself to him.

There is a sparkle in his eyes as he’s finally seeing your breasts. He lifts his mask slightly to expose his badly scarred lips. His tongue comes out and lightly flicks back and forth over your nipple before wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

It’s just like in his imagination, except there is no sweet milk filling his mouth- yet. His cock twitches in his pants and leaks precum from the excitement of having you like this. He looks up at you to see you watching him while he enjoys himself, biting your lower lip as you hold back your small moans.

Your eyes follow him as he sits up, he grabs the waistband of your pants and pulls them down. The soft fabric of your cotton panties came into view, driving him insane. Between your legs is a small wet spot forming on the light-colored fabric. Instantly his eyes dart up to yours; you’re actually enjoying this.

König wastes no time in pulling them off, exposing the sweet little pussy that he’s been watching you rub for the last two weeks. His fingers finally get to graze across the soft texture of your public hair before letting his fingers caress your wet folds. A low groan leaves him as he feels how wet he made you. All of this for him.

“I’m going to fuck until you’re full with my seed.” He whispers to you as he pulls down his pants to let his cock spring free.

You say nothing, simply nod your head in submission. Internally, you’re dying to be a mother… to be fucked. His hand wraps around one leg, allowing himself more room between them. He rubs his cock up and down between your folds to cover himself if your sweet creamy cunt; pressing against your clit with each swipe making your legs tremble.

With a small push forward, the tip of his cock slips into your tiny little cunt. Your eyes widen as he slowly leans his weight on to you, sinking himself deeper. A loud pathetic moan comes from König. His hips pull back and he slams himself into your again with more force. He watches as your face contorts with a mixture of heavenly bliss and immense pain.

“Oh fuck—” You cry out.

One of his hands snakes around your neck and squeezes lightly as he positions himself to get deeper, attempting to shove every single inch of himself inside of you; even if you struggle. With slow and hard thrust, he repeats that you’re his. It’s been so long since his cock has felt the delicious feeling of a tight wet gummy pussy swallowing him.

Outside, everyone continues to enjoy the warm day. None of the adults seem to realize that you’re even gone so no one is looking for you. If they were to, they would only find you sweating with König’s warm sticky cum dripping from your pussy.

Part 2

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Take Care of You

Summary: Tav's selflessness does not go unnoticed by Astarion, but so doesn't the way her selflessness is at the expense of her own well-being. He decides to take it into his own hands to take care of her... in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x fem! Tav (reader)

Warnings: Tav overworks herself and neglects her own needs/selfcare, smut, fingering (Tav is AFAB), feminine pet names used, praise kink, I think that's it!

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: I have brainworms again and need to get this out sooooo enjoy?

Oftentimes, Astarion found that Tav tended to the needs of others, but very rarely to any needs of her own. He had witnessed Tav spend the last 3 days taking care of everyone, including himself in various ways that had her now looking, and surely feeling, absolutely exhausted. As he stood outside his tent, eyes scanning the camp setup before him, his gaze zeroed in on his Tav who was currently starting the fire, and helping to set up Gale’s various cooking tools and ingredients. A soft smile tugged at his lips just at the mere sight of her, before turning to a frown. As it was, Gale was away from camp, surely bathing off the day’s blood and grime along with their other companions, as Tav readied everything for their return. Her hair was crusted with blood, as was her armor, and her cheeks were streaked with dirt. Her eyes ringed with purple, tell tale signs of her exhaustion.

With a sigh, Astarion makes his way across camp, coming to stand beside Tav,

“Darling, I must say, you do look absolutely ravishing in red, but don’t you think it’s a good idea to get cleaned up?” She looks up at him with doe eyes, hands not stilling in their endeavor to help.

“Oh I don’t mind waiting. The others won’t be long, and besides, I just want to help set up for Gale. He’s always so kind as to make dinner for everyone, so this is me paying him back.”

Astarion manages to internalize his eye roll, and hold his tongue from pointing out that Tav has saved the wizard plenty of times in battle to make up for the meager stew that’s served nearly daily.

He places a hand on her shoulder, before pulling back and dusting the dried blood off his hand, “I just worry that you haven’t been taking care of yourself, is all.” a clear of his throat does well to cover the awkwardness he feels at saying such a vulnerable thing to her. 

“I’m alright Star, no need to worry.” She gives him a glance and a little smile.

“I don’t mean to be blunt darling, but you look positively dreadful and like you could use a nap. Please, let me take care of you.” Astarion huffs, frustrated at her stubbornness. Tav straightens up and turns, her eyes meeting his almost pleading ones, “Okay, I’ll let you take care of me.” Her voice comes out a quiet murmur. There was no denying him when he gave her that look.

The others arrive back to camp not long after Astarion gathers fresh clothes, a comb, and toiletries for Tav. He leads her to a secluded spot along the shore of a small lake they are camped by, before unbuckling and removing her heavy armor and underclothes, leaning forwards to press a kiss to her forehead as he does so. He strips himself of his own clothes, regardless of having bathed earlier that evening, taking Tav’s hand in his own and bringing her to the water. Astarion gets to work, lathering the soap between his hands, and gently scrubbing the filth from Tav’s body and face, a shiver running through her at his touch. He has her fully dip underwater, then begins to work the soap through the blood drenched strands of her hair, massaging at her scalp with his fingertips. Tav lets a moan slip past her lips.

“Does that feel good darling?” Astarion chuckles as he brings the soap down to the ends of her hair.

She mumbles an affirmative, her eyes flutter shut. 

“Alright, there we go. Just rinse this out for me, will you, love?” 

Tav dips back below the surface, thoroughly rinsing out her locks. When she resurfaces, Astarion can’t help but bite his lip at the sight. The water rolling down her neck, over her breasts as she pushes her hair away from her face. She looks like a painting, he thinks. 

The two dry off, and Tav dresses in the clothes that Astarion had brought along for her; a pair of loose trousers, and one of his ruffled night shirts she so loved to steal. Once in Astarion’s tent, the vampire sits, patting the space between his legs and motioning for Tav to take a seat. She obeys, and sits while he starts to comb her hair.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” he hums, fingers beginning to plait her hair.

“I’m okay. I guess I didn’t realize how tired I am.” Tav yawns, her hands mindlessly playing with a loose thread on his trousers.

“Tav, you really must take care of yourself. You put everyone, including myself, before you. It’s really no wonder you’re so exhausted.” he ties off the braid with a piece of leather. His arms come around to wrap over Tav’s chest, holding her against his own and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

“I just want to help everyone, and I guess I lose myself in the process.” a chill runs through her at the feel of his lips on her sensitive skin. 

“Darling, do you think you could try to lose yourself in me, just for a moment, hm?” his tongue flicks against the edge of  her jaw. 

She gasps in a breath, and stutters, “ye-yes, I think I could do that.” 

“Let me take care of you.” One hand whispers across her chest, lightly cupping one breast in it’s hold, before trailing down her stomach, and dancing along the waist of her trousers, “Let’’s take these off.”

Tav shimmies her pants over her hips and down her legs, toeing them off to the side. Astarion runs his hands down her naked thighs, hooking beneath them to lift them and rest them over the tops of his, successfully spreading her open for him. Her breath catches in her chest, the cool air hitting her already sensitive cunt.

“My my, look at you. You’re already positively dripping.” He dips his fingers below and runs his middle finger through her wet, swollen slit, opposite hand running up her ribcage, grasping at her breasts and teasing at her nipples. He toys at her entrance, teasing the tips of his fingers in  her before pushing slowly inside. Tav moans, her chest heaving slightly at the intrusion. 

“That’s it, such a good girl taking my fingers like this.” Astarion coos in her ear, nose pressed to her cheek. He begins to pump his digits in and out, crooking them just enough to rub at that spot that makes her mewl. 

“Just feel how good I’m making you feel, my love.” The pace of his fingers picks up, and his other hand pinches at one of her nipples. 

“St-Star, I’m close.” her head falls back against his shoulder, throat exposed for his mouth’s taking. Thighs shake against his as she nears her end. He sucks and licks at the flesh of her throat, fingers continuing their pace. The hand playing with her breasts, makes its way down to circle her swollen clit. Tav whines at the contact, hands grip at his forearms, grounding her to the moment. 

“That’s it, pet. Come for me. Come around my fingers, I want to feel it.” 

Her cunt spasms around him, thighs quaking and hips lifting to meet his movements. Moans fly past her lips, as she rides out her orgasm. Astarion slows his fingers as she comes down from her high, “Shh shh shh, there we go.” Tav looks back at him, a blissed out, glassy look to her eyes. “There you are, darling. How did that feel?” 

She tries to regulate her breathing, “So good.” she manages to reply.

He grabs a cloth, and cleans her up, then slips back on her underclothes and trousers. 

“Come here, my love.” He scoops her up and lays her down, her head upon his chest, as he pulls the bedroll and blankets around the two of them. 

“Thank you Star, for taking care of me.” Tav mumbles as she drifts off and gets the much needed rest that she deserves.

[indecisivemuch]

hii first of all luv the username cause as a libra rising, samedt ;-; i'd like to make a request for a luke x f!reader fic pls!! um, so they're best friends, and luke decides to confess to r by giving her gifts, letters, trinkets, etc. with hints about his identity, but she doesn't know who they're from. so she asks for luke's help to find out about the identity of her secret admirer. but what if there's like a mistaken identity and she thinks it's someone from the hermes cabin (maybe chris? or one of the stoll brothers idk) and luke's just all pouty but nonchalant or something, but deep down he's like 'how do i even make her see' or something (while also second guessing that maybe he shouldn't confess it's him) like fluff with tiny angst :>

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You got a secret admirer and recruited Luke to help you find out who they are...ignoring the most obvious option (Fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: I'm so sorry for the six month hiatus. It wasn't by choice, I swear 😭. So many bad things kept happening that prevented me from writing (is this the writers curse people kept talking about?). Also, the request wanted only a sprinkle of angst, but I kinda got out of hand with it I think 😭 (sorry).

Word count: 4.4k (whoops)

You’ve always thought that too much of something is bad. Yet, ever since the day your life intertwined with Luke Castellan’s, you weren’t very sure about that anymore. 

The two of you arrived at camp around the same time, entering a friendship that felt like hitting the jackpot. Your early days together were something that you both treasured dearly. Every time you thought a certain time period would someday be reminisced as the golden days of your friendships, new things would come, and top it off. 

However, golden skies were soon evaded by clouds of pink hues. You found yourself noticing and appreciating small details you haven’t noticed before about your best friend. Initially, you acknowledged the growing feeling but decided that they better remain as footnotes in chapters of your life. However, fate’s design was different to your plans, because two years later, here you were: you looked at him almost in the same way a fool would look at the world with rose-colored glasses (but then again, maybe it was because you have learned to embrace and adore his flaws).

“Luke!”

The Hermes cabin counselor snapped his head towards the sound of your voice, eyes straying from his duty of the hour. A smile began forming on his face as you came to view, almost like he has always been programmed to do so. There was a certain spring in your steps. Moments like these made Luke feel like he was a minimalist because your happiness was somehow enough to guarantee his own. 

You situated yourself next to Luke on the ground, not minding the dirt.

“Hey now, I’m meant to be watching these kids train, don’t come over and distract me,” the Hermes cabin counselor warned, though he didn’t move his eyes away from you. He simply couldn’t.

Everything about you served as a distraction to him. From the soft smirk gracing your lips to the innocent tilting of your head. Every little detail about you was captivating and was equally capable of drawing his attention away from wherever it was meant to be. 

In fact, his attention issue around you was getting rather shameless because his friends have begun picking up on it and started teasing him for it. Personally, Luke doesn’t think it was his fault. His eyes just happen to draw to you in every room like second nature, while his mind short-circuited every time you were near. 

Maybe, and just maybe being rational and able to function properly has stopped being his forte…at least whenever you were around.

Your eyes moved to the group of kids that were only going to be at camp for the summer. From the looks of it, Luke has just assigned them to practice sword fighting in pairs. You then glanced back at your best friend, discreetly drinking in the sight of him. 

No doubt he did his fair share of demonstration before letting these kids go off on their own, because right now, his face was slightly flushed, veins evident on his forearm while the familiar orange shirt clung onto his body with glistening sweat.

You shook away the non-platonic thoughts and teased him, “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t pass up on talking to me. You adore me too much.” 

Damn right, he does. Luke could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Fine. What are you here for, firecracker?”

“I got another gift,” you informed, presenting the bracelet in your hand. 

For the past month, you have been receiving small letters and gifts. This time it was a handmade bracelet with beads of your favorite colors, as well as charms that represented some of your hobbies and favorite things. It was clear that your anonymous admirer had put a lot of thought into such a small item. However, as always, there were no identities attached to it, leaving you clueless about the person behind these gestures.

Luke took your hand in his, eying the accessory that perfectly fitted your wrist. He started toying with the beads around your wrist that were shining in your favorite color.

The boy’s gaze flicked from the object to you, catching your soft and warm look. Gods, if you kept looking at him like that, he might just actually stop thinking logically. He could practically feel a confession lingering behind his lips, threatening to spew the second his ropes of restraint died.

��Anyway, I came here with an idea,” you broke the silence. “What if I try to find out who this person is? I mean, some of these gifts are quite specific. They seem to know my favorite color, flowers, and things I like. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard to narrow it down and figure it out?”

Something shifted in your best friend’s behavior and you could feel it. There was a slight flustering look on Luke’s face as he avoided eye contact with you. It was rather strange to see the Hermes cabin counselor so fidgety. Luke has always been confident and composed, and you’d often be the one to humble down his playful cocky remarks. Half-way through looking at his behavior, you began speaking:

“You…”

Luke could feel the blood draining from his face at your facial expression, his face paling despite how flushed he was seconds ago from demonstrating sword fighting. The boy tried to regain his composure, though his attempt at seeming nonchalant failed as you touched his arm. Did you—

“You can be my inside man, talk to these guys to see if they’d slip up or something like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Luke hastily replied, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that come across as a suggestion? I hate to break it to you but being best friends means you sorta have to participate in my schemes,” your lips curled as Luke grunted at your words. 

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke, please…it’ll be fun,” he almost scoffed at your words and unconvincing argument. Clearly, the two of you had different definitions of fun. Just as he opened his mouth to reject your idea again, his eyes caught yours. You were looking at him in such an eager and heart-warming gaze that it made him forget what he was intending to say.

Ah, there was no denying anymore. Being rational and able to function properly has truly stopped being his forte.

“Fine,” Luke uttered, the word pricking his tongue as regret started kicking in as he accepted being your accomplice. This decision could only come back to bite him in the ass. He watched as you quickly celebrated his lack of restraint.

“Ah, you gave in quite quickly,” you jabbed.

“Shut up.”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days have passed since you got Luke to agree to help you find your secret admirer. Though, the boy must say, the last forty eight hours have been slightly comedic for him, watching you trying to track down your secret admirer…

While the real sender of those gifts was right beside you, nodding along to your every word. 

Luke’s mind trailed to the origin of this “secret admirer” idea. He started it as a way to abate the urge of straight-up blurting out how love-struck he was with his own best friend, while also testing out the waters before finally confessing his feelings for you. 

Though it was slightly amusing how the idea led him to where he was right at that moment. The Hermes cabin counselor zoned out as he pretended to speak to another boy you thought was behind those sweet gifts and letters. 

Luke used to have those feelings under rein, but self-repression only caused it to grow exponentially. Initially, the Hermes cabin counselor dismissed those beyond friendly thoughts, thinking they would eventually fizzle away. However, against his predictions, this fondness towards you became a sort of companion to him for three long years. 

Not only that, years of excessively burying these feelings six feet underground also came back to bite him in the ass because instead of having his feelings under control, they now have the upper hand. 

Sometimes he felt like a puppet, while his feelings plucked the strings. His facial expressions were forever cursed to be sculpted in raw yearning whenever around you, having no choice over how he reacts to everything related to you.

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to finally confess soon.

Luke almost burst out laughing at the way you were standing in anticipation, waiting for his intel on the most recent candidate. It was entertaining, to say the least, pretending to engage in investigative conversation before heading back to you, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

However, it didn’t take long before the Hermes cabin counselor started feeling sour.

Just as he made it back to your side, he watched as you started talking again, already discussing the next guy you thought might have done these things that Luke himself came up with. He eyed your in sync footsteps with a heavy heart. Despite the matching movement, he somehow still felt eternally behind. Luke was so close, yet so far away, and never quite able to grasp onto your ever moving attention. 

Did you not consider him as an option at all? Did you truly not see him as anything other than a good friend? It started stinging him knowing you were considering all these other guys as potential candidates — the faces that now haunt him in his sleep, poisoning his mind with an acidic jealousy that was eating away his common senses and fueling immoral thoughts. 

Soon enough, that same jealousy seared his mind with this overwhelming self-doubt. Luke’s foot started feeling cold at the thought of confessing. Gods, he never thought the same security behind anonymity would now make him feel desperate to be seen by you. 

“Maybe I should give up,” you concluded, mindlessly staring ahead. Your attention elsewhere gave Clarisse and Chris an opportunity to send each other knowing looks. The two have been watching you run around in circles on a goose hunt, not knowing to look right behind at the sulking figure that was trailing after you. 

Your distracted state also meant you didn’t notice the moping human situated beside you. However, hearing your declaration of ending your chase, Luke saw a window of opportunity. Maybe now was finally the time to be truthful. After all, if he doesn’t tell you, then how will you know and see him? Luke’s momentary motivation carried him through waves of dejection.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Luke blurted out without much more thought or preparation, and his tone made you fully turn to him. Just as words finally formed and the boy opened his mouth to tell you—

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you privately?” Somebody interrupted. Your eyes didn’t leave Luke immediately, but when you saw your best friend’s momentum had faltered, you turned to the stranger. It was another Hermes boy, somebody who you’ve seen around. You politely agreed and left with him. 

“So, I heard you’ve been looking for the person who’s been giving you anonymous gifts. And well, it’s your lucky day, 'cause…” the boy stared you up and down while you subconsciously took a small step back when he leaned forward. “...I’ve decided to come forward and reveal myself.”

“Okay…well, prove it” you squinted. Though your skepticism didn’t make the Hermes boy in front of you falter. Clearly, he expected this.

“The first thing you were given was a note, and…the two most recent gifts were a cassette tape and a bracelet — which was made from beads of your favorite color and charms like…” you zoned out as the boy started listing out some of your favorite activities that were indeed the charms on your bracelet. You fiddled with the bracelet that you had purposefully hidden out of his view right behind your back.

There was a pinch in your heart that signaled the last bit of hope dying. 

Oh…so Luke really wasn’t your secret admirer.

You internally scoffed at yourself. You should have known right after he said yes to helping you out with finding your secret admirer — which was originally an idea used as bait to determine if Luke was the sender or not, because if it was really him then he wouldn’t have agreed to help you out with this. However, not only did your best friend agree without much convincing from you, but he had seemed so nonchalant and unaffected as you named all these boys you wanted him to talk to. 

Perhaps this secret admirer thing was something good. Somebody has shown interest and their actions have been nothing but sweet. Those letters contained words that were eternally bound to your memories, even altering the way you view yourself for the better. Maybe you could get to know this person and move on from hopelessly crushing on your best friend.  

Halfway through, you realize you were so engulfed in your thoughts that you have zoned out to half of the things the Hermes boy was saying, and merely caught onto the last bit of his speech:

“...thinking maybe we could go on a date and get to know each other more tonight?”

Your stomach churned again, yet you nodded your head.

Move on. Move on. Move on. Move on. 

Your friends gave you questioning looks when you got back to where they were, clearly curious about what you were pulled away for.

“So…that was my secret admirer, and I’m going on a date with him tonight,” you hoped you sounded more enthusiastic than you were feeling. You tried convincing yourself at least it was good knowing definitely how your best friend actually felt about you. Quickly sitting down, you kept your eyes on Clarisse, knowing if you even looked over at Luke, he’d be able to tell straight away that something was wrong.

Your lack of focus also meant you didn’t think much of the quiet murmur from your best friend: “Sorry, I just remember I need to do something.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. It was now the afternoon and you just finished getting ready for your date. As you were leaving, you spotted a note at the foot of your cabin. Seeing your name written on the paper, you picked it up while eying it peculiarly.

“You could be the one that I love, 

I could be the one that you dream of,

Message in a bottle is all I can do, 

Standing here hoping it gets to you.”

Your gut feeling stirred, hitting you with waves of higher certainty over suspicions you have previously had and denied.

Those lyrics were directly associated with a memory from summer two years ago. 

Luke and you were sitting by the campfire when he asked what your favorite song was. You told him the name and mentioned you hadn’t listened to it in a while because using technology devices with signals were dangerous for Demigods. The conversation slipped your mind but clearly loitered in your best friend’s mind, because two months later while on your way back to camp from your quest together, he gifted you a tape player along with a cassette of said song along with others that you liked.

You blinked away the image of you leaning on Luke’s shoulder while the two of you listened to the song together on the train back to camp.

You re-read the note again while shaking your head. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, that Hermes boy knew the song and it was also one of his favorites. Perhaps—

Your hand started trembling around the paper. Your eyes landed on one small detail in the note: a particular handwriting choice. The rest of it matched with previous notes, but there was one singular scribbling feature you’ve never seen used before. 

Everything came crashing down and your internal eternal cycle of excuses and denial shattered.

You ran. It didn’t matter that it was raining and your attire was getting soaked. It didn’t matter at all because you were frustrated and confused. In other instances, you would have been elated at the possibility of mutual affection, but in that moment, exasperation blinded you from sensibility. 

If what you have concluded was true, then why on Earth would he allow you to go on a date with a person who stole credit for things they didn’t do? This whole time, he made you feel like a fool — for waiting that long and having hope after all that time; for asking the person you were looking for to hunt them down with you; for sulking despite having what you thought was a good opportunity to come along; for borderline going on a date with an imposter; and for not seeing it all along that it was him. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you called out.

Despite the rain, you could see your best friend’s figure stiffened before turning around to face you. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, not yet daring to look at you. 

“The “th”. You connected the cross in the ‘t’ directly to the ‘h’,” you presented the note in your hand, pointing specifically at the slip up that Luke had made in the latest note, not caring of the raindrops that were hitting the paper. “It’s how I write it, and you started writing it the same way a year after we got to know each other because you liked the way it looked,” you pressed further.

The expression on Luke’s face painted your theory into the truth of the situation. You felt your hand slightly shaking at the revelation.

“Why? You left anonymous gifts and notes and watched me put on this hunt — which by the way, was for you. And didn’t even say anything when a guy lied and said he was my secret admirer? Is this one big cruel prank?”

“No—”

“Oh! Well then, surely at one point in this whole thing, you felt like you should just tell me?” 

“I was going to.”

“Then where were you when I was just about to head out with that fraud? Maybe if you really liked me and really cared for me, like all those damn notes say, you would have fought for m—”

“I did,” Luke finally raised his voice, his face briefly hardened in an attempt to convey his desperation. His chest heaved, and the way it did almost made you think the anger radiating off every inch of his skin right then was directed towards you. But it wasn’t, and he knew you knew. 

“I confronted him right after he claimed that he was the one who gave you all those things.” 

Invisible ivies rooted your foot to the ground. You gulped, trying to digest the information you were given. However, it finally sunk in when Luke’s hands appeared from behind his back. It was then that you could see the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Your breath hiccuped in both flattery and worry at the implication of what he had done. The darkness behind those deep hazel-brown orbs reflected a certain side of your best friend that you hadn’t seen before. Although, part of you felt like you wouldn’t mind it.

It made Luke’s blood boil knowing what he dedicated to you from the bottom of his heart was spoiled by ill intentions. Luke should have known better than to carelessly write all the letters and craft those gifts right on his bunk bed, rather than discreetly. 

Once again, the Hermes cabin counselor was pulled back to memories from an hour ago. The way the other boy shot remarks at Luke’s lack of precautions, boasting his wrong-doings like someone incapable of having a guilty conscience. Luke's jaw tightened as the image of the sly smirk on the other Hermes boy's face flashed in his mind, but a wave of satisfaction ran through him as he recalled how quickly that smirk was wiped away by his own fist.

They might be brothers by a fraction, but blood or not, that boy was dead to Luke the second he tried tricking you.

“And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out with a fraudster. Never,” Luke’s eyes softened. “And in case it’s not implied enough: I like you…a lot. I was going to confess but then this guy came along lying,” Luke could feel that tremor returning once more to his fist. He hated that something he built, from scratch, on the foundation of sincerity was momentarily tainted by the hands of a spineless liar. Not only that, he hated witnessing somebody so dear to him getting deceived in such a tasteless manner.

“I also…didn’t want to get hurt. It was starting to seem like you would ever consider me as more than just a friend with the way you were listing out all these other guys. So for a bit there I was considering just keeping quiet…forever” he confessed, eyes now straying away from you and down to his shoes.

You observed your best friend through a new perspective. So your initial suspicions were true. You had thought it was him because all the things you have received hinted to somebody who knew you so well, and who else at camp but Luke knew this many things about you. But ultimately, another part of you — the proclaimed “logical” side — has hyper-analyzed every split second you two have shared and deemed that Luke has not given any true signs of interest in you beyond as a friend. Thus, you dismissed the thought of Luke being your secret admirer.

You know now to trust your gut feelings more.

“Oh, Luke Castellan, you dumb ass…” you spoke softly underneath your breath, but you knew he heard you perfectly clearly from the way he slightly peered up. Your heart almost shattered at the dejected look on your best friend’s face and the thought of him burying his feelings eternally. You sure as hell would not allow that to be this timeline.

“I’ve liked you ever since the day you went out of your way and gave me that first cassette tape,” the marveled look on Luke’s face over your confession made you continue, “I guess I should have known it was you…cause gift giving has always been your love language.” It seemed like the boy was too stunned and struck frozen. However, his shell-shock state didn’t last long, because soon, your best friend’s gaze reverted back to the way he has always looked at you, only slightly more intense.

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of Luke Castellan in front of you at that moment. You were finally able to see the effect you’ve always had on him. The way his lips hung slightly agape, eyes dilated in such a way you were no longer able to see their usual color anymore, chest slightly heaving despite lack of physical reasons for such a reaction. You almost wanted to hit yourself for being such a fool and not spotting these details sooner. 

“Now, Castellan…you have two options,” you stepped closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of personal space in between. “You either kiss me or—”

Luke grabbed your wrist with his uninjured hand and pulled you in. The same hand-guided your arms around his neck while also effectively eliminating the remaining distance between you two. 

Without hesitation, he kissed you.

Likewise, you returned the action without a second thought. You frankly didn’t care about the rain that was soaking the both of you. Kissing Luke felt like such a natural act that it felt simply like diving home. The way he held you made you feel like you were a national treasure he was so afraid of losing. Gods, you don’t think you mind doing this ever so often.

Though, there was a certain urgency in the way Luke kissed you, as if afraid you’d either vanish or you’d change your mind. You pressed your lips harder against his, hoping he’d understand you didn’t intend on leaving or having a change of heart.

A grunt escaped his throat as you kissed him harder. Oh, Luke Castellan already knew he was in immense trouble. He knew almost immediately that the concerning number of thoughts he had about you each day would only increase tenfold from this day on. He wondered if you could taste all of his unspoken words. If kissing you felt like this, he might as well sign away his heart, body, and mind to you. In fact, he’d sign anything you put in front of him without even considering the fine prints. 

Luke slowly backed you against a tree, giving you a bit of support to lean against whilst shielding the both of you from the heavy rain. He smiled into the kiss as you hummed at his action, feeling it echo against his lips. His heart tugged, almost leaping out of his chest when your hands made their way to both sides of his face, cupping it intently like holding something yours. Yours. Fuck, he loved the sound of that. 

You were the first to break the kiss. The both of you gasped for air while maintaining eye contact. The close-up view of his intense gaze drove your cheeks rosy. You could not help but admire the way his locks of wet curly hair clung onto his forehead, while raindrops fell from his face, some following the length of his eyelashes before falling — Oh, the way he glanced down at your lips at that second made you feel almost like you had the power to convince him into anything at the moment. 

“You’re my best friend…” he broke the silence.

“Mhm.”

“...but what if I want you to be more than that?”

“I can be both,” Luke’s lips broke out into a smile, and you mirrored his facial expression. He leaned his forehead against yours whilst softly rubbing his thumb soothingly against your waist.

“I’m not against that.” 

As a larger grin broke out on your lips, Luke’s eyes further softened. He realized right there and then that anything you wanted, he would not be against it. A breath of relief quietly escaped beneath Luke’s breath. He could not wait for whatever was in store for the both of you in the future.

Good thing his messages in a bottle did get to you.

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

masterlist

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[tacticaldiary]

Reader joining 141 for a mission and Simon is not having it and is pissed at price for calling them and all of the other guys are confused about why ghost is so upset till they find out reader is his wife after the mission

Maybe reader got hurt and ghost goes off on price

The Price Of A Secret

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive-"

"This is different." He grits out.

"And why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the table. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

A/N: It's 2:45am and I have no energy to proofread caution advised-

Masterlist

The moment the picture of the intelligence officer joining them flashes on the screen, Ghost puts his foot down.

"She's not coming."

Everyone in the room pauses, Price staring at Ghost mid sentence. It's the usual 141, and then it's her. Sitting there with a mildly frustrated look, refusing to look at him because she should have known he'd try to pull some shit like this.

"Why not?" Price folds his arm, narrowing his eyes. "Is there an issue, Lieutenant?"

She was supposed to work from the inside, drawing out data and cracking through defences that they then passed on to people like the 141. An integral part of the process of running the whole task force, but not once was she involved in hands-on field work.

It's not that she's incompetent. No, not at all. Ghost would have his head bit off if he even remotely implied that because it simply isn't true. She got the top scores in almost every part of her training exercises, and yet she chose the intelligence part of the military to serve in. His wife was as competent as they got.

His wife.

"This is a covert operation, the fewer people the better." That's what he goes with. Not because his heart picks up at the thought of her being anywhere near what they deal with every day.

"I won't have the range I need to retrieve the data from their servers if I'm not close to them." She speaks up, and their eyes meet from across the room.

His determined, hers resolute.

Sometimes he really hated that she was so fucking stubborn. It had been the same stubbornness that cracked down the iron grip he'd had on the walls in his mind and around his heart, but if that stubbornness was what got her killed Simon would give up this joy in a heartbeat.

He'd do it for her if it meant she kept on living.

"This isn't up for discussion, Ghost." Price states, "She's part of this operation on my authority."

"Price-"

"End of discussion. You settle whatever you have going on outside this room." And fuck, he can't refute a direct order like that, can he?

Ghost sees her release a long exhale, and he knows he won't share such a relief until this damn operation was over and done with.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her body is so limp it scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

Ghost grips her so tight it's as if he himself is the only thing tethering her soul to her body, boots thumping hard against the muddy ground as they retreat back to their extraction point, data successfully retrieved.

Successfully, not smoothly.

The plan was simple. They'd flank the building while she camped out near the edge of the woods, retrieving the intel they needed. A couple of fuckers slipped out of the building and went straight for her.

Ghost's stomach turns when he remembers how he found the scene. She wasn't answering through her comms, but he knew he wasn't able to leave his position until the building was secure.

Waiting felt like an eternity, he could feel Soap send troubled glances in his direction at the way Ghost was unusually silent and more brutal than.

When the building was finally secure, they'd gone to reunite with her position and found three men dead, bloody seeping into the ground in a crimson mess. The last one standing hovered over her unconscious form, over his wife with a knife raised ready to slit her thought.

The only thought Ghost had as he ripped the man away with his hands was that he was going to take the one good thing in his life away, and he would not let that happen. Not her. Not like this.

"Bleeding wound to the head, unconscious but still breathing!" Gaz called out while Ghost shoved the man's own knife into his throat. Tossing the gurgling body aside like a ragdoll, he's immediately by her side, assessing before carefully lifting her up in his arms.

It's the most emotion Ghost has ever expressed in front of the others, but he couldn't give a fuck about the looks or the questions right now. Her heartbeat against him settled him the slightest bit with the reassurance that she was alive.

Angry does not begin to describe what itches under Ghost's skin as they scramble into their exfil airship.

"Medic!" He barks the second they lift off. Setting her down, he brushes the bloody strands of her hair away from her face.

Despite the urge to stay by her side, the medic gingerly requests for him to take a step back so he could work. Ghost obliges but his eyes never leave her face.

He's painfully aware of his wedding ring pressing against his chest, strung onto a chain long enough to be tucked under his uniform. A matching one to her own.

Nobody speaks.

Perhaps they recognise the anger washing off of Ghost in waves, because if they'd just bloody listened to him, she wouldn't be laying there with a head wound.

The atmosphere is heavy and sombre. Even Soap keeps his mouth shut, too confused by the outward, uncharacteristic way Ghost was acting to make fun of it.

It's only when the medic announces she's stable that the suffocating knot in Ghost's chest loosens. There's audible relief from everyone in the place.

"Bloody hell." Price breathes, and something in Ghost snaps.

"I told you to dismiss her from the op." He says coldly, turning to the man.

"We got what we needed, son." He sighs, deep and tired, and part of Ghost understands that this was their life. But he's too worked up to care.

"At a fucking cost."

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive, that's all that matters. Nothing permanent, yeah?" He glances at the medic, who confirms with a nod before slipping away.

"This is different." Ghost grits out.

"Why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the metallic walls. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

How long had it taken for Ghost-...no, for Simon to let someone crack open his defences until he was coaxed out and allowed himself to love again? Four years they've been married, and four years he's kept it a secret.

It's not that he doesn't trust his team. He trusts them with his life, would lay his own down for Johnny, Gaz, and Price any day.

But this? This was bigger than him, she was the most precious thing that had ever happened to him, and the safest way to preserve that was the keep it on a need-to-know basis.

She'd agreed with him, of course. In that soft, patient way she always has with him. She'd seen the paranoia in him, recognised that he needed this one thing for himself, and she'd been more than happy to oblige.

What was outside validation about her relationship worth when she got to crawl into his arms at the end of the day? Be granted the pleasure that comes with being loved by someone as protective, intelligent, and sharp as Simon Riley? She adores all of him, even the jagged pieces that cut into her from time to time, because he's always there to take care of her afterwards.

"She's my wife." He repeats quieter, sitting back down. Exhaustion lines the slope of his shoulder's dark circles well present under his mask.

"You're married." Soap is the first to speak, incredulously. "You? Ghost? You're married?" His eyes flicker down to Ghost's left hand, and then to Gaz and Price who look equally as surprised. "I mean, congratulations?" He trails off, knowing it's not really the situation to celebrate.

"Thanks." A tired, small voice has everyone's attention back onto the figure on the bed. Ghost is on his feet in moments, by her bedside. "It'll be five years in...what, a month?" She cracks an eye open, giving Simon a tired, smile.

"Two months." He corrects with a mutter, and Johnny looks like he might just collapse. "Sitrep?"

"We're not on the field anymore." She groans, pushing herself to sit up. Ghost's hands fly to her immediately, helping her sit up. At his blank, insistent stare, she relents with a deep sigh. "My head's killing me but other than that just a few scrapes and bruises." Her hand travels down to grab his at her shoulder, squeezing briefly.

"I'm alright." Her voice turns into something soft and reassuring, and it's only then that a quiet, shuddering breath comes out of Simon's lungs. "I think I'll sit to working from the inside though." She jokes weakly. "Leave the dirtier work to you brutes."

It lightens the mood as intended, eliciting a snort from Gaz. "Yes, ma'am."

He'd make sure she got checked out properly when they landed, but for now he takes his place sitting beside her. The others fall into a hushed conversation after a while, but he makes no move to join them.

A warm hand intertwines with his, hidden beneath the bulk of their combined gear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear.

Simon squeezes her hand in response. "Fucking hell, love." He breathes.

And it's enough to convey everything he's thinking. Humming, she tips her head against his shoulder and lets her eyes slip shut. The warmth of his body, even through the tang of copper is enough of a familiar comfort to drain the tension from her body.

She's fast asleep against his shoulder a minute later, and the devil himself couldn't make Simon move lest he wake her now.

He wasn't a publicly affectionate person by any means...but he trusted his team enough for this right now.

Letting his own head press against the metal wall behind them, his eyes shift to meet Price's. A softer, knowing look from the Captain is all he needs to hook his chin over her head and turn his attention outside the small window.

And if he counts her breathing while she sleeps for his own peace of mind? Well, that's no one's business but his.

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(10/09/2023)

[zirconika]

if you're up for it, would love to see a mildly angsty fluff daryl x reader piece where reader is one of the people at the prison who gets hit with the flu and while daryl is explaining the plan to go get the meds, reader jokingly asks if he can bring back a treat if she promises to be a good patient. cut to the aftermath of the prison fall and reader ends up getting out with help from michonne before they run into rick and carl and eventually reunite with daryl during the stand off with the claimers. the next morning daryl and reader finally get a moment to themselves to just breathe for a second and daryl pulls out a lollipop he had found back at the gas station when they were on the medicine run and shyly hands it over to reader

five seconds

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 5.3k SUMMARY: Guilty for arguing with you right before you fell ill, Daryl’s determined to make it up to you by fulfilling your request. His goal to deliver it to you is interrupted by the fall of the prison and the intrusion of the Claimers. WARNINGS: angst to fluff. nose bleeding. expect mean daryl, i got mean daryl fever from crush by @ghostboneswrites2. attempted sexual assault during the claimers scene, basically the violence that took place during that particular scene.  A/N: yes i am up for it i love love love this idea!!! i added my own twist to it too :)) so sorry it took three days i had no idea how to start it hsejkrkwa also it ended up being longer than i intended for it to be. hope u like it nonnie ! reblogs are appreciated!

     Friends do things for each other, that’s just the way it is. Rick Grimes hands you a gun? Friends. Carol Peletier offers you a bowl of soup? Friends. Daryl Dixon looks at you for five long seconds before going to sleep? That’s… That’s classified.

     Okay, friends. You might have been reading into it.

     Friends—It’s what you tell yourself what you are with the archer whenever you volunteer to earn your keep alongside him who, for some reason, seemed to be blatantly avoiding you ever since that damned staring session. 

     It wasn’t the length of the stare. It was how he looked at you and how you felt yourself looking at him. The two of you were just returning to your respective cells, expecting the other to say goodnight only to end up staring at each other. The worst part is how it ended. 

     It was so quick that you could have missed it, but Daryl Dixon’s eyes fell to your lips for a split second before he turned away to hurriedly retreat to his cell. You tried not to think about it too much, but Daryl deliberately and very obviously dodging you made it hard to forget. 

     When you went out to hunt together as per routine, you expected to hold at least a conversation half a minute long. You missed talking to the archer, you had to admit it to yourself at least. Which is why it pissed you to the bone that the next time you ever talked again was the next accident.

     “I had it under control!” you yelled at the archer, who didn’t seem to be too interested in your defenses. At your feet lay a walker whose head had served as a target for a bolt you knew all too well.

     You watched as Daryl made his way over to you, fury evident in each step. “Hell ya mean under control? Ya ain’t cut out for huntin’! Ya should’ve sensed that walker from a mile away.”

     “Woah, woah,” you humorlessly exclaimed, “I’ve been hunting with you since like, ever. The fuck you mean ‘I ain’t cut out for huntin’?”

     “‘Cause ya aint! Could’ve gotten yerself killed, woman.” What was he so mean about?

     You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right to some degree. If he hadn’t arrived in time, you would’ve been dealing with the aftermath of a walker bite by now. But it did not give him the right to speak to you like that. “Oh, you are not talking to me like that.” 

     “Just did,” he spat. “Now ya listen to me. Yer gonna return to camp and yer gonna—”

     “Sit around and do nothing?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You want me to knit you some sweaters, too? Make you holiday cookies?”

     “Guard the damn fences,” he said. Daryl stepped forward to grab you by your arm. You dodge him before he could get a hold of you, glaring at him as you did so.

     “I can walk by myself, thanks.” Before disappearing into the woods to return back to the prison, you flipped the guy off. What was up with him? You angrily mumbled to yourself, “It was just a walker.”

     It’s been a while since that happened, and this time, it was you who didn’t dare to speak to him. You didn’t want to be the first one to approach him. After all, you did nothing wrong. And yet he had the audacity to avoid you again.

     But it wasn’t that there were zero interactions, though. There were a handful, however blood boiling they were. You exchanged a couple glares whenever your eyes landed on one another.

     The worst one was when Patrick extended his hand to Daryl in front of you while he thanked the archer for his contribution. After Daryl shook his hand, you had to butt in, standing up while eating a bowl of oatmeal instead of the cooked meat. 

     “Well, that’s Daryl! Isn’t he just great, Carol? Such an amazing huntsman!” you mused sarcastically, giving the three of them the brightest smile you could. Daryl could only watch as you walked away from the scene, his eyes drilling a hole at the back of your head as you kept going on and on: “I don’t know how I could ever compete!”

     It didn’t take long for the group to catch on the heat.

     You didn’t mind that part. What you did mind, though, was Daryl’s snide remarks whenever you’d mess up as a retort to what you’d said in front of Patrick.

     Dropped a spoon? “S’why ya can’t be outside, can’t even hold a damn spoon righ’.”

     But you weren’t gonna let that slide. Whenever he’d say something to the group, you had something up your sleeve, too.

     He found an old warehouse west of the prison? “Oh, how splendid. Daryl and his plans. Everyone say ‘Thank you, Daryl’!”

     The last rebuttal you could recall was after you finished your task digging a grave for the recent casualties. You were taking a quick break by yourself, setting your shovel aside. From a distance, you watched Glenn and Maggie continue to dig. You shuddered at the thought of turning with no warning of a bite.

     Your body was sore all over from all the digging, your throat on the precipice of getting sore, and you felt the world beneath you sway uninterrupted.

     The moment you made to leave the shovel against the wall, the world swayed even worse, sending you to Daryl’s grasp. “Damn it, woman, watch ya step. Ya ain’t gonna last long bein’ such a damn klutz.”

     “Get off my back,” you said. You jumped out of his arms, glaring at him with the default face you’d grown used to using around him. You angrily grabbed your shovel again, dismissing that you weren’t even able to have a minute. You let adrenaline overtake your need for a break. 

     You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You did at first, but it kind of grew on you.

     That was until a portion of the prison fell ill from the rampant spread of the flu. You decided Daryl wasn’t worth your time for the time being, dedicating your focus on doing what you can for the prison. You did find yourself looking out for him every once in a while, though. Just to make sure he was still healthy.

     Not that it mattered or anything.

     But you watched in horror as Tyreese held Daryl by his vest. You found yourself stepping forward, wanting to intrude but Daryl held his hand out to Rick, a way of saying ‘I got it.’

     It bothered you that you felt a sort of responsibility towards the guy, however much of an asshole he was towards you. To be fair, you were just as bad to him. But you weren’t gonna admit defeat just like that.

     “We’re on the same side, man,” he told the furious Tyreese. And after that, it was all a blur. You watched the fight unfold. You wanted to stop Rick, to hold him off Tyreese, tell him it was over, but you remained rooted to the floor, frozen.

     You could’ve sworn you felt Daryl’s gaze on you before he managed to get Rick to stop until he did. Daryl stumbled backwards, bumping into you. Shivers went down your spine when he touched you by the waist to ask you, “Y’alrigh’?”

     You looked back at him. That same look again.

     One.

     Two.

     Three.

     You turned away to wipe at your nose, sniffling. Unsure of what to do, you hurriedly left the scene. Once you were far enough, you wiped at your nose again. Then came a metallic scent you just could not ignore no matter how hard you tried. You thought it was just the rust of the metal bars infiltrating your senses. 

     But when you looked down at your hand upon the third wipe, you were met by the sight of blood. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

     After settling the dispute out, Daryl made it his mission to search for you before the council meeting. To his surprise, you were not in your cell, not outside, at least not anywhere he could find in three minutes. Deciding—hoping—you were probably busy somewhere, Daryl got back to the council’s table.

     Though he gave a fair share of ideas and listened intently, having even agreed to go on the run, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Before leaving, Daryl pulled Glenn aside, knowing he dug graves with you just a while ago.

     He didn’t even know why he had the urge to ask the guy, because how could he possibly have any clue of your whereabouts? But he had to ask something. “[Y/N] ever said anythin’ ‘bout stuff she had to do or somethin’?”

     “I don’t think so,” said Glenn, getting ready to seclude himself as well. “She’s probably isolated herself by now, too.”

     “Isolate herself for what?” Daryl scoffed in a poor attempt to disguise his concern. Glenn watched him as if he were a madman.

     “You didn’t see her this morning?” he asked the archer, who then said he did. The longer Glenn paused, the more Daryl followed. “She’s caught it, too.”

     At that moment, Daryl understood his routinely misdirected anger—why he felt his heart practically burn a hole through his chest at the sight of that walker almost getting you, why he could no longer stomach bringing you along with him on runs and hunts, and why he let his stares linger.

     Daryl Dixon understood why he kept his distance in fear of letting whatever it was he felt fester, burying it deep within himself where even he could not find it. Until he discovered that he had a bigger fear—a phobia, even.

     The thought of losing you. And it was all the more clear to him now as he peeked through the small window to find you gripping one of the bars of a cell, keeping steady. You’d gotten weak since the last time he saw you, and he thought back to when you furiously went back to work after he’d interrupted.

     He felt a guilt like never before, feeling responsible for your condition.

You caught sight of him from afar, and your eyes locked. 

     One.

     Two.

     You gestured to the visitation room. He nodded.

     Finding yourself face to face with Daryl Dixon afterwards divided by a glass partition was something you didn’t expect you’d ever have to experience. You didn’t even think he’d care enough to take the time to do so.

     Ever since you shared that long second stare, you’ve been wondering when you’d ever have the luxury of sharing it again. But even you couldn’t hold it for that long. 

     One.

     Two.

     Three.

     “Go on, lay it on me,” you said.

     You longed to hear his typical insults, the ones you were used to hearing by routine. Instead, Daryl, took a deep breath and told you, “M’sorry. ‘Bout everythin’.”

     Safe to say that you were taken aback. You opened your mouth to tease him about it, but you had to look away as you felt the itch in your throat begging to be scratched inside. You coughed out loud, and Daryl couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of you.

     “What, no ‘yer hideous,’ ‘serves ya righ,’ or even ‘fuckin’ idiot’?” you asked jokingly, attempting to make an impression of the way he talked. 

     “S’why I didn’t want ya out there,” he said, ignoring your attempt at triggering that part of him. It went out the minute he realized you were on borrowed time. “Didn’t want ya to risk yer life for some pig meat.”

     You realized he’d gotten serious. You took your seat across from him, scrutinizing the way he looked at you. “Oh, and you’re allowed to?”

     He shrugged. “Yeah, ‘cause I ain’t an idiot like you.”

     “There it is,” you chuckled. Daryl laughed along with you, and it was the first time in a long time that you’ve laughed together. And when the moment passed came that damned stare again.

     One.

     You couldn’t hold it. “I don’t know how much time I have left so… Thanks for coming.”

     Daryl snorted. Though he laughed, he was just as scared as you are. Maybe even more scared. “Ya ain’t gonna turn. We’re gonna head out ‘n get some meds. There’s a vet college some ways away from here, and I’m gonna make sure stupidity ain’t gon’ be the reason ya die. Ya ain’t dyin’, that’s final.”

     “They got everythin’ there?” you asked.

     “I dunno, Hershel gave us a list. Said it should have ‘em.”

     “You know how things are, right? How everything usually doesn’t end up going the way you want it to. So…” You didn’t know what to say anymore. “On the off-chance it’s limited, I don’t want to hog any of it.”

     “Whaddya mean?” the archer asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. He didn’t like where this was going.

     “I mean that if there’s a shortage, I’m fine not getting it. I’ve been with these people for half an hour and… Daryl, they deserve a second chance. They want to survive.”

     “And ya don’t?”

     “I don’t know,” you confessed, sniffling. You weren’t crying, but your stuffy nose made it hard to breathe just as badly. Daryl’s heart sank. His guilt just kept growing knowing he’d been unreasonably rude to you just this morning and every morning that came before. “It gets tiring at times, but it does get fun when you spend it with the right people. But then again, who knows how long you’ll be having any of those, too?”

     Daryl opened his mouth to say something only to take it back the instant he thought of it. I’m not gonna let ya die. He stuck to his stubborn script instead. This is what Daryl was avoiding; the burden of caring. “Yer gonna take the meds whether ya like it or not.”

     You couldn’t help but smile at his stubborn drive. It was one of the many things you admired about him. “What, you’re gonna be all mean to me again if I don’t follow your instructions, Doctor Dixon?”

     “Doctor wha—?” He stifled a laugh to no avail. It was through that moment that you found out that Daryl’s laugh was music to your ears. “Nah, we’re way past that. M’gonna start a new method. Ya do somethin’ good, ya get somethin’ good instead of gettin’ somethin’ bad when ya do somethin’ bad.”

     “So reward punishment,” you suggested with a smile. 

     “Exactly.”

     “So,” you began, “if I promise to be a good patient…”

     “Uhuh,” he nodded.

     “If I take the meds…”

     “Mhm.”

     “You’re gonna give me a treat?” You resisted the urge to joke about a kiss. It felt too early, and you worried it would spook Daryl away and ruin the moment.

     “Yep.”

     “Really?” you asked, grinning wider that it almost seemed as if you never even caught the flu. “Like, one of those lollipops they give out after a vaccine just so you stop crying?”

     Daryl had no idea what you talked about, having never experienced getting one good check-up his whole life, depending his health on whatever remedies he and his brother can fashion on their own. But you seemed to be thrilled about it, and that was enough. “Yeah, like that.”

     You pretended to consider it for a while, acting like you were deep in thought. “Alright, we have a deal, you fucker.”

     He smirked. “Wipe that stupid smile off yer face.”

     And though you didn’t take it too seriously, Daryl was already hatching a game plan he could use to find one for you the moment you mentioned it. After all, he was a man of his word.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

     Daryl Dixon was one of the few people who valued solitude. This time, though, he found himself craving company long after the fall of the prison as well as when he lost Beth. 

     Thus, the universe sent the worst possible group to accompany him—the Claimers. Even he realized the change within him when he realized the difference in how he’d choose his company now and before.

     It shook him to his core that he would have chosen this group had he not met Rick’s, had he not met you. As he and the Claimers made their way through the roads in search of the perpetrators they sought to give a piece of their mind. 

     Daryl decided he’d ride with the Claimers for survival, thinking to himself he’d be fine coasting with them for just a little while until he found the right opening to leave. That was, until he discovered that they’d been hunting the same group Daryl had been looking for, but with different motives.

     “Hold up,” Daryl said carefully, so as to not rile the leader who had Rick dangerously at gunpoint. 

     “You’re stopping me on eight, Daryl,” the leader accused. You felt your heart sink from where you were, fearing how the scene would unfold. You held Carl’s hand to comfort him, but it was just as well an attempt to comfort yourself. Carl returned the sentiment. 

     Daryl stepped closer with caution. “Let’s hold up.”

     One of the guys holding a shotgun opened his mouth. “This is the guy who killed Lou, so we got nothin’ to talk about.”

     “Carl,” you whispered under your breath, not daring to move to even look at the kid. You could only hear a bit, but the silence in the car and the slightly opened windows was enough to let you hear a bit.

     “The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time,” the leader said. He kept his eyes on the archer. “Say your piece, Daryl.”

     “These people,” Daryl started. “Yer gonna let them go. These are good people.”

     You felt your heartbeat pick up its pace upon observation that the group’s leader was unimpressed. “Now, I—I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I, of course, would have to speak for him and all because your friend here strangled him in the bathroom.”

     You whispered again, frozen in place. “Carl, I need you to get in the back. Slowly.”

     “You want blood? I get it,” Daryl said. You watched as the archer dropped his crossbow and threw his arms open. The fuck is he doing? “Take it from me, man.”

     Carl slowly brought his legs up to him, trying not to make a noise.

     Daryl kept coming closer. “Come on.”

     “This man killed our friend.” By the look on their leader’s face, you knew there was no way this would go in peace. “You say he’s good people. See now, right there is—is a lie.”

     “Carl, hurry,” you whisper again. But his attempts at doing so is halted by the events that followed.

     Daryl dropped his arms to his side, realizing the same as you. You had to clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle your frightened yell as one of them hit Daryl with the butt of a shotgun. You could only watch in fear as two of the men dragged him to the hood of the car you and Carl were in.

     As they beat him shitless, Daryl looked up to find your face staring right back at him from inside the car. For a moment, he thought he was seeing you as he approached death, but his eyes widened in terror realizing you would be involved in the scene. 

     A wave of relief and dread coursed through him; relief that you had gotten out of the prison and dread that he wouldn’t be able to protect you this time. 

     The door swung open and a man yanked Carl out before you could even reach him. “C’mere, boy.”

     “Carl!” Your door swung open as well, one of the men tackling Daryl just seconds ago hauling you off your seat as you tried to put up a fight. 

     “You leave him be!” you heard Rick yell over the commotion.

     The man pointing a gun to Michonne wasn’t afraid to make his threats and intentions clear either. “You get yours. You just wait for your turn.”

     You felt the threat of a knife to your throat and you got a whiff of a mouth that reeked of booze. You felt your perpetrator’s warm breath tickle the lines of your neck, taking you in.

     You were terrified of what he’d do to you, what they’d do to Carl. “Let him go!”

     “Not so fast, hot stuff,” the man taunted you, toying with your hair. 

     “No, get off her!” Daryl exclaimed as his assailant pinned him down as another guy ruthlessly beat him up. Daryl didn’t care.

     “Listen, it was just me. It was just me!” Rick admitted, desperately trying to bargain for his group’s freedom.

     “See, now, that’s right! That’s not some damn lie! If we can settle this, we’re reasonable men.”

     “First, we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we’re gonna have the girls, then the boy. Then I’m gonna shoot you and soon we’ll be square!” 

     You heard Daryl yelp as they beat him. “Stop hurting him!”

     The leader of the gang looked at Daryl, then at you. His fucking stare made your blood run cold. “Maybe we can keep little Daryl here for a while, give him a little show. Make him watch.” His laugh sent ripples of unease throughout your body even as you were thrown to the ground, the man getting on top of you. 

     “No!” you heard Daryl exclaim as he put up a harder fight to no avail, his body already weakened. More so was yours.

     “Claimed!” the man yelled, his eyes already feasting on you.

     Everything was… You couldn’t think anymore. You felt your legs part open, and with it your head throbbed. The lack of sleep, the hunger, the thirst, everything was coming down all at once. You could only hear the wicked cackling of their leader, Rick yelling at the man to let go of his son—

     Then it was ringing in your ears at the sound of a gunshot. And yet the nightmare didn’t end. You didn’t like it. Didn’t like any of it. The sniffing and the giggling… The hands on your waist as they trailed down… 

     You thought of nothing. Perceived nothing until you felt the hands gripping your body start to loosen. Maybe you were gone already, maybe… This is the end. 

     The weight on top of you was gone altogether, and you could hear Rick’s furious grunts as he plunged a knife deep into the throat of the man who took Carl. You looked up to find Daryl tussling with the man who was just on top of you.

     “Daryl…” You were slipping in and out of consciousness, and a couple steps from where you lay you saw the two other men who’d been beating Daryl just moments before splayed unconscious on the cold concrete road.

     The ringing in your ears was louder as you watched your assailant fall to the ground, and Daryl shoving his foot down his head in vengeance.

     You lay there among the leaves, tilting your head up to the sky, only grateful Daryl was fine. He ran to you as soon as he did what he saw he had to do.

     “[Y/N],” he called, scooping you into his arms and away from the floor. You wanted to stay awake, to ask him how he was, to confess you were scared shitless and you were tired of pretending you weren’t…

     The last thing you could remember was Daryl holding you as you let slumber take you away.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

     When you awoke, you thought you were back in the prison. For a split second, you thought you just had a horrible nightmare. As your eyes began to adjust to the sun, you realized you were in the front seat of the car with the backrest inclined for your comfort.

     Michonne’s presence in the backseat told you otherwise.

     “Michonne?” You looked around to find no one else. The windows were covered with different cloths, too. You looked down on her lap to find Carl fast asleep while Michonne caressed his face. “How is he? How are you?”

     She looked up at you, an undeniable sorrow in her eyes. She was just as tired. “I’m fine. He’s shaken. What about you?”

     The events of the night before flashed before your eyes. You had to shake your head to be rid of it. You needed air. “I’ve been better, I just need air.”

     Michonne nodded, respecting your distance. “Rick’s right outside.”

     “And…?”

     “Daryl?” she asked, to which you nodded meekly. Michonne gave you a reassuring smile. “He stayed with you the entire time, he stepped out just now. He’s fine.”

     “Oh, okay.” Fixing your hair, you returned her kind gesture with a warm smile as well. “I’ll just go get some fresh air, I think I need it.”

     You swung the door open and hopped out. Once you walked forward, you jumped in shock. You didn’t expect to be in the same place from when everything happened. Just in time, Daryl popped out from the other side of the car. “You alrigh’?”

     The corpses were still splayed out flat on the concrete and beside the road. You had to look away from the grotesque scene, your heart pounding. “Yeah, I’m fine—I’m okay.”

     “You sure ‘bout that?” he asked. Daryl gave Rick a knowing look before patting him on the shoulder. Rick nodded, letting the archer know that he’ll be fine. Daryl moved towards you and tapped you by the shoulder. He took back his hand the moment you flinched, instinctively recoiling to physical touch.

     “Sorry, I’m just—I know I don’t need to feel that way around you, it’s just—”

     “I get it.” Daryl understood; he was there when it happened. But he’d make sure he’d also be there after. His hand hovered behind the small of your back. “May I?”

     Daryl waited until you nodded before he let his hand rest on your back to guide you away from the mess.

     “Let’s take a walk. Have some water,” he said, handing you a half empty bottle. You took big gulps religiously, craving its feel in your throat. “Thank you.”

     You hand the bottle back to him only to realize that you had drunk all of its contents. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

     “Nothin’ ya gotta apologize for.”

     You only nodded in response, still troubled by everything. 

     Daryl halted, gently touching you by your wrist. You’d never felt that sort of tender touch before, and it was easy to miss it once it ended. “Hey, I—uh, I almost forgot.”

     “Hm?”

     “Y’know, the terms of our agreement.” You watched as Daryl fumbled with himself, and a laugh escaped you. He seemed to be flustered with what he was about to do, but you could tell he’d been anticipating doing it by the pace he was searching. He checked his shirt pockets. When he dug into his jeans’ front pocket, he pulled out something small, then extending his hand to you. “M’sorry I only got two, I wasn’t sure what flavor ya wanted and I accidentally got them in the same flavor and there were walkers and I know it ain’t an excuse but—”

     You took it. You kept eyeing the two lollipops in your hand. It was both strawberry-flavored, and it was one of those jumbo ones that were slightly bigger than the regular ones. “Daryl, that was a joke. You didn’t have to” — you snorted, a smile breaking on your face — “actually get me one.”

     “Nah, I’m a man of my word.” Daryl returned your smile. “I say m’gonna get ya somethin’, then m’gonna get ya somethin’. Simple.”

     “Well, then,” you said, handing him the other one. “You get the other one.”

     “Nah, it’s yours.”

     “No. Get it.”

     “Nah,” he said.

     If Daryl was stubborn, you were nothing compared to him. You stuffed the other one in his pocket. “There. And don’t even try to argue with me on it, I wanna have it with you.”

     “Alright, alright.”

     Heat rushed to your cheeks. He really did bother. You continued walking, Daryl followed.

     “Ya don’t have to open it now, we need to get ya some more water first so yer throat doesn’t get sore again.”

     “Thought this was my treat?” you teased. “For being a good patient?”

     “Yeah, well, doctor says you should lay off it for a bit ‘til ya get some more to drink.”

     You snorted. “Oh, yeah? What doctor.”

     Daryl pointed to himself. “This doctor. Doctor Dixon.”

     “You like that a lot, huh?”

     “Actually, I hated it but… S’kinda growin’ on me.”

     After you shared a laugh. There was that goddamn lingering stare.

     One.

     Two.

     Three.

     Daryl turned around, afraid the heat in his cheeks were possibly giving away how he felt with a faint blush. “We should—Whaddya say we head back?”

     “Sure, wouldn’t wanna have you going down on one knee to propose,” you joked.

     “Shuddup,” he said, lightly punching your shoulder. 

     On the whole way back, you talked together, just like you always did whenever the two of you were out hunting. Speaking with Daryl made everything else matter a little less that you don’t even realize how far you’ve gone until it comes into your mind.

     While walking the tracks with Rick, Carl, and Michonne, the two of you walked slightly behind. 

     “I’m just saying, if we get to this place, it’s not gonna—!” You shrieked as your feet caught on one of the sleepers of the tracks. To your relief, Daryl caught you with his hand holding yours and his other hand assisting your waist.

     The three turned around to check on you both. Rick called out, “You alright back there?”

     “Yeah! We’re fine!” he said back. You were worried Daryl would drop your hand. He didn’t.

     When no eyes lingered on either of you anymore, the stare you’d been yearning for returned, leaving you to wonder what would break it this time before it could reach five.

     One.

     Two.

     Three.

     Four.

     Five.

     To your surprise and your relief, Daryl smiled at you. And oh, did it feel melting. It was hard not to return his smile when it was so damn contagious. You were sure your heart was doing gymnastics at this point, feeling it beat so hard against your chest.

     “What’re you looking at me like that for?” you asked the archer.

     “Yer still fuckin’ clumsy as fuck,” he remarked with a teasing smirk.

     He’d been dying to hear you laugh again, so he’s relieved that you do. “Welcome back. Thought you said you had your whole new justice system in store?”

     “Well, doctors still gotta scold their patients, especially when the patient in question is an idiot.”

     You rolled your eyes. “You have any rule in your book about doctors holding their patients’ hands? Y’know, like, ‘Don’t do that’?”

     Daryl looked down on your intertwined hands, pretending to scrutinize it with careful thought. “I dunno, I think if the patient’s fine with it, then the doctor’s fine with it, too.”

     You did the same only to look back up at him with a grin. “Patient says it’s fine. Is the doctor fine with it?”

     “Doctor Dixon says it’s recommended to keep his patient healthy.” 

     “Patient has a request, though,” you tell him as you use your other hand to pull out your lollipop from your pocket. “She wants Doctor Dixon to share a treat together.”

     “Doctor Dixon says, ‘What the hell’.” He does the same, pulling his lollipop out. You had to let go of each other’s hands for a bit to take off the wrapper before throwing it away. Daryl was the first to take your hand, eager to hold it again. You let him.

     Throughout the entire journey to Terminus, all your fears and worries were at bay, all because Daryl never let go of your hand. The two of you talked about the sweetness of what you were having, how it was a great change from what you were used to eating. And it was right then and there that he knew he wanted to be holding your hand whenever, wherever, and however long he could.

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[thekissofaphrodite]

Maroon

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Iris!Reader

Summary: A lipstick mark resulted in a rather hasty rumour about you and clarisse.

Warnings: Kissing? Cursing :P (Remind me if I missed one)

Author's note: I wrote this at exactly 1 in the morning with no shame, but im here to serve since we don't have anough Clarrise FFs🫡

——

You two always ended up like this.

With your legs wrapped around Clarisse's waist, your red lipstick smudge with marks and kisses along her neck, and Your polished nails tangled on her soft curly hair.

Apparently, You noticed this pattern happening everyday. Clarrise coming to you to ramble about a her supposed 'bad day' , then, you comforting her, caressing her cheeks until it turns out into a hot makeout session Inside of her cabin.

you and clarrise would get multiple violation warnings from chiron, but little to none from Mr. D who even had the nerve to point out one of your hickeys.

--

It was another day in camp half blood, and your job was to teach younger campers how to handle a sword.

"Hold the sword properly— No no no. Not like that Jerry—"

"MY name's Gary—"

"Same thing"

" Grip it tightly, and swing it to your opponent, now there's a trick, you can maim so that they lose their focus and then you can attack...." While you kept teaching the children who looked at you with their puppy eyes, Clarisse watched you from afar, Her lips curled into a soft, patent smile. Of course, you caught her eyes and winked, leaving her blushing madly.

It wasn't even 2 minutes before five of the kids you were teaching started giggling to each other and whispering coherently.

You looked back at them with your browser raised.

"Is something funny?" You asked.

"Nothing!"

——

"You're gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous," Clarrise whispered as her lips trailed down your neck, A soft moan escaped from your lips as you caught a small smirk gracing her lips.

Her face was full of lipstick marks, including her neck that almost looked like a graffiti wall with your maroon lipstick staining her neck.

"Please give me more—"

You gasped and flinched as you heard three loud knocks on the door.

Clarisse, who was kissing the valley of your breasts shot a look to the door, She muttered a string of curses under her breath and immediately stormed after the one who dared to interrupt her and her lovely girlfriend...But no one knows that you two were in a relationship.

"No, NO! Clarisse-"

Before you could even grab her, she swung the door open, Her eyes glaring at the person with rage.

But, surprisingly. No one was there, You were greeted by the cool midnight breeze.

Clarrise muttered another string of curses before slamming the door shut and cupping your cheeks, Kissing you passionately again.

At that moment, you coulve sworn you saw a familiar silhouette hiding from the distance peaking at you and clarrise, brushing your thoughts aside. You kept kissing her until you reached her bed bunk.

——

The next day was a mess.

Campers looked at you like you were some prey. Something was odd.

as you sat at the mess hall, trying to scan the crowd for your friends but they weren't there.

As soon as the Ares girl stepped into the mess hall, you immediately knew why people stared at you two, One of clarrise's half siblings decided to play a prank on her but instead caught you two in a rather...private moment.

As you watch clarrise's half sibling smirk, your eyes catch the sight that everyone sees.

The Scarlet Mark of your maroon lipstick on her neck.

A/N: Hey loves!! This is a short clarisse FF since I wrote this in a rush (don't ask why) :P, Since we don't have more of Dior's clarrise I decided to write this one!! <333 I hope you like it, and don't be afraid to submit a request!!

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt1) | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x tennis player!reader For the past year, Leah had been a big fan of yours, and now her mother wasn't missing any opportunity to tease her during Roland Garros. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: this one is long (maybe?), sorry about that. The next part has more Leah and reader interactions, I promise. This was written with an oc, i changed everything at the last minute so sorry if there are any mistakes there,, pt2 my masterlist

Leah Williamson, England captain, European champion, Miss Arsenal.

That was how she was publicly recognised within the world of football, a sport that had always been her passion, but lately, or rather, since she had been invited to Wimbledon in 2023, she had begun to share some of that passion with tennis. 

She explained to everyone that she fell in love with tennis during a deep conversation with the legendary Billie Jean King. While there was truth to that, tennis didn't captivate her so much because of the sport itself, but rather because of a certain player, who since that Wimbledon semifinal, Leah had watched almost all of her matches. 

“Believe me, that girl Y/N is great, don't let this match fool you” Billie had muttered to her after witnessing your unfortunate loss in the last set.

And who was Leah to doubt the words of the greatest tennis player in history?

Since then, Leah has managed to watch as many of your matches as possible. And yes, you were undeniably beautiful, but what truly captivated Leah was the elegance with which you played. Each swing of your racket held a mesmerizing grace that left Leah spellbound every time.

And now, with a break after the final game of the European qualifiers, it was the opportunity for a holiday.

"Hey, Leah!" Georgia barged into her room on the last day of camp, now that they were back in England. "Got any plans for this week?"

"Yeah," Leah replied, without giving any details, more focused on packing her suitcase than engaging in conversation with her friend.

"Where? With who?" Georgia asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. She knew Leah tended to keep her romantic interactions with girls in private, not just from the public but even from her own friends.

"With my mom, you idiot," Leah replied, rolling her eyes. "We're headed to France."

"Now? What's so interesting about France?" she asked, with a look of disgust on her face. Sure, there were plenty of interesting things to do in France, but Georgia didn't want to hear anything related to that country for a couple of days.

"Roland Garros? Does that ring a bell for you?" Leah retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Huh? Since when do you go to another country for a tennis match?"

"My mom likes it" Leah lied smoothly, without any hint of shame. If only Georgia knew that Leah had sweetened the deal for her mother with promises of fine wines and breathtaking views post-match.

"Well, that's too bad... but text me if your plans change,"

Leah nodded, though it was in vain because she wouldn't change going to France to see her favorite tennis player.

"Who are we rooting for?" Amanda said, taking a sip of her drink, not really interested in what was happening on the clay.

"Uh, we're impartial," Leah said, settling back in her seat.

Four games had already been played, each player winning their respective games. 

"I have a feeling we're rooting for the girl in the white visor," her mother said. 

Leah looked at her, pulling her sunglasses down a little. "What?"

"Well, you make a face every time the other player makes a point."

Leah said nothing to that comment, her attention had returned to you, now one point away from managing to break your opponent's serve. It was an important match, a semifinal, so every point would be valuable to put you in the final of the tournament.

Still not saying anything back to her mother, Leah held her breath for a few seconds. The ball was going back and forth across the court, but you, with impressive precision, hit the ball with a spin that made it graze the top of the net. For a moment, it seemed like it might fall short, but the ball dropped just over, catching your opponent off guard.

"Wonderful" muttered Leah, crossing her arms with a smile, ready to enjoy the rest of the match. 

There were times when tennis was mentally overwhelming. You felt this every time you played, and it had cost you a lot of matches in the past. A whole court filled with hundreds of people, all watching you, many anxiously waiting for you to make a mistake that could cost you the match. It was more than overwhelming.

That's why, at times, you had to pause your mind and take a deep breath, despite how difficult that was for you.

You only needed one more game to win the set and secure a place in the Roland Garros final. No pressure, of course.

The advantage was that you were serving in this game, but ironically, this often made you even more nervous. The pressure of delivering a strong serve was immense. 

The crowd was overwhelming, so many eyes watching you, so many unfamiliar faces focused on you, watching every move, your family and team sitting behind you. In this position you couldn’t look at them to calm down. 

You needed to focus your eyes on something, to steady your nerves. As you walked towards your position, after drying your face with the towel, you looked in a diagonal direction, right towards the area where you were supposed to put the ball. 

As you raised your gaze slightly, something caught your eye. In the stands, amid a sea of blonde and brown heads, was a woman with striking red hair. The woman stood out, not only because of her hair, but also because she was the only person not looking at you, instead, her attention was elsewhere.

You stole a glance at the red-haired woman as you inhaled deeply, preparing for your serve. With a fluid motion, you raised her arm, tossed the ball into the air and delivered a powerful strike.

Ace!

The ball zipped across the court with velocity, catching your opponent off guard. Convinced it would fly out, your opponent made no attempt to chase after it.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips.

Once more, your gaze flickered toward the red-haired woman in the stands. Drawing another deep breath, you focused intensely as you prepared to serve again. With a determined flick of your wrist, you sent the ball hurtling across the court, this time, your aim wasn’t for an ace, but rather to set up a play that would complicate the things for your opponent.

Within minutes the score stood at 40-15. Just one more point. 

You didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but you craved to close the match with a decisive point, one point to make it clear why you were here.  

So, you adjusted your visor, brushed your fingers over the gold chain hanging from your neck and looked up, for the first time looking directly at the woman, not even getting a good look at her, because the woman was quite far away, but the woman's disinterest helped you to clear your head and focus your mind, ignoring the bunch of other faces watching you. 

Just one more point.

You lifted the ball, the familiar weight of your racket in your hand, a quiet groan escaping your lips before you swung. Then, the sound of the impact echoed through the entire court and as the ball bounced on the clay.

Ace!

Leah was up from her seat at the same time as you fell backwards onto the clay. 

"That was incredible," Leah exclaimed, joining the chorus of applause. 

"Incredible?" Amanda asked without understanding that much. However, what truly caught her off guard was the sight of her daughter like that, grinning from ear to ear. It was common to see her like that when it came to football matches, but not usually during tennis.

"Are you kidding? It was phenomenal! If you hadn't been glued to your phone, you’d have felt the same as the rest of us!" Leah retorted.

"So, did we win?" Amanda inquired.

"Well, you have won a few more days in France," Leah replied, attempting to temper her excitement. "The final is in two days."

"Do we have tickets?”

"Of course, I purchased them in advance. I already knew Y/N would make it to the finals."

Amanda regarded her daughter suspiciously. "You're not into gambling, are you?"

"Of course not," Leah replied with a grin. "But if I were to bet on her I'd do pretty well”

As they made their way toward the exit, following the crowd, Amanda broke the silence. "Do you know that player?"

"No… not personally" Leah replied "But I watched her play at Wimbledon last year."

"Did she win?"

"No" Leah shook her head, a hint of disappointment in her expression. "She lost"

"So, she's not that good?" 

"Actually, she's quite impressive," Leah defended you. "She went up against the number two player in the world."

"What rank is she?" Amanda inquired.

"Four," Leah answered.

"Then she's not the best," Amanda said confidently.

"Mom!" Leah nudged her playfully while Amanda held back her laughter. "You couldn't even hit the ball."

"Neither could you, I remember your attempts at tennis when you were little," Amanda chuckled. "But what I don't get is why you're defending her so much"

"Because she's great, she’s talented! Look over there!" Leah pointed behind her, where a large screen displayed the game's results alongside your photo.

Amanda's eyes immediately gravitated toward the image, ignoring the points table. "And she's quite pretty," she remarked, studying your face for the first time.

"And she's talented," Leah emphasized, feeling a blush creeping up her ears. Thankfully, her hair concealed it from her mother's curious gaze.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Amanda replied with a smile.

It was a tough match, quite a tough match, but that's what you would expect in a Roland Garros final. 

The first set ended 6-4 in favor of Iga Swiatek.

You had faced her numerous times throughout your professional career, but had never managed to defeat her in an official match. Despite your old friendship with Iga, there was an undeniable intensity when you two met on the court, and you were determined to shine this time.

As the first set concluded, you sank into your chair, you had to use the break to ease the tension in your legs. Uncapping your water bottle, your fingers instinctively found the gold chain around your neck, adorned with your initials. It may have seemed superstitious, but wearing it had always brought you luck on the court.

Suddenly, your coach's voice pierced the distance, signaling for you to relax and loosen up your play. You brushed off the advice, as if you hadn't already realized that. Ignoring your coach's guidance was risky, but you already had your own voice in your mind against you. 

Taking a long sip of water, you refocused your gaze forward. Then, something caught your attention.

The same woman from the previous match was in the stands again. You hadn't noticed her before, too engrossed in your opponent. Again, that was the key to your game, you needed to block out distractions and focus on yourself and the ball. Just like you had done during the semifinal match, you needed to tune out everything else.

"How many points before your girl loses?" Amanda said, glancing sideways at Leah, who was leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and a faint blush on her cheeks. According to Leah it was from the sun hitting her face, but Amanda knew her daughter well enough.

"Don't pester me, now's not the time," Leah replied, sitting up straight in her seat and adjusting her sunglasses.

"I'm not pestering you, but you claimed that girl was fantastic. Yet, from what I've seen today, the other player seems better to me."

"Well, she's number one after all"

"So, you admit she's the best."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Y/N just needs to take a breath. After this break she'll bounce back, you'll see. She'll shut your mouth"

"If you say so."

And so it happened. You had won the second set 4-6, breaking Iga's serve at the crucial moment. The victory was almost surreal, even Leah found it hard to believe.

"Stop biting your nails," her mother said, giving Leah's leg a slap as she saw her nervous habit.

"She's going to win," Leah said without looking at her mother, her gaze fixed on you, as you refreshed yourself by wetting your hair before the final set.

"Leah, you've been saying that since yesterday," Amanda remarked, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her tone.

"I’m excited," Leah defended.

Amanda shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "If she wins, will you approach her?"

"Are you being serious?" she said, shaking her head "What would I even say?" Leah replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"You've been crushing over her for days. I've never seen you like this with someone you don't even know," Amanda teased.

"It's not a crush. I just admire her athletic ability and determination, that's all," Leah insisted.

"Well, then you two have something in common. I don’t see why you don’t talk to her" 

"Because... I just don't," Leah stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"What a coward," Amanda teased.

The set stood at 4-5 in your favor, but now it was Iga's turn to serve, and she was already in position. You shifted your weight from side to side, preparing for the shot, a smile gracing your lips as you caught sight of the red-haired woman just above Iga’s head. The woman had become your anchor, helping you refocus on your game. 

It was almost amusing, thinking that no one else existed in the crowd, just you and the woman. You could tell the woman wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in the clay. You often caught the woman glancing at her phone during the set. Yet, you found solace in playing as if you were solely performing for the woman.

However, you didn’t forget the game at hand, swiftly responding to each shot with your racket, rallying back and forth several times before you had a moment of brilliance that allowed you to execute a breathtaking drop shot in the opposite direction of Iga's sprint.

It was the highlight of the tournament, perhaps even of your career, your best point. Yet, when you glanced up and noticed the red-haired woman looking away, you couldn't help but chuckle.

With the score now at 40-AD, you needed just one more point to clinch your first grand slam title. As Iga's shot came straight towards your body, you managed to get your racket in position to return the ball. The exchange of the ball was intense, this time you had to sprint to reach a ball you never thought you could. You struck it with the edge of your racket, hoping for the best as the ball sailed toward the line.

As you watched the ball clear the net, you felt the light weight of your gold chain around your neck and remembered that luck was on your side this time.

Everything happened in slow motion as Iga dropped her racket to the ground, and moments later, you found yourself on your knees on the clay court, the crowd erupting into cheers around you.

You didn't know how, but now you were already in the stands, being hugged by your family and your team, with your coach by your side, trying to shake some of the clay off your clothes. 

"I need you to do me a favor" you said to him before the tournament staff took you away for the trophy presentation.

As Leah and her mother descended the stairs toward the exit, Leah couldn't contain her excitement. "I told you Y/N would win," she exclaimed, her hand firmly grasping her mother's arm. The trophy presentation had concluded, and the crowd was beginning to disperse. 

"It was luck," Amanda teased her daughter, though she couldn't deny her surprise at your remarkable turnaround.

"We should have placed a bet. We would have won"

"At least I won't have to endure your grumpy face during dinner," Amanda said with a playful smirk.

Leah rolled her eyes as they walked through the crowd.

"Excuse me!" A man's voice behind them interrupted their conversation. Leah's eyes widened as she recognized him. "This might sound strange… but Y/N wants to see you," the man explained to Amanda, who didn't understand the situation at all, her daughter didn’t either.

Leah felt a tug on the arm her mother was holding on.

"Uh-"

"It's Y/N's coach," Leah clarified to her mother.

"And she wants to see me?" Amanda asked.

The man nodded awkwardly. "I wish I could offer more explanation, but Y/N is sometimes unpredictable."

After a moment of contemplation, Amanda flashed a mischievous smile and nodded, gripping her daughter's arm even tighter. "Sure, take us to her."

Leah's heart raced. How was it possible that she was going to meet her crush the athlete she admired thanks to her mother? 

Your coach, after a few minutes of walking in silence, led them through a door into a room where you were lying on a couch, eyes closed.

"Hey, Y/N. Your guests are here," your coach announced, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You quickly opened your eyes and stood up, ignoring the fact that you had just played a two-hour match less than half an hour ago. 

You were no longer wearing your visor and your shoes, but you were still in your white uniform with lilac accents. Leah couldn't help but notice that your socks were now stained with clay.

"Y/N L/N" you introduced yourself, extending your hand toward Amanda. Your attention seemed focused on Amanda, oblivious to Leah standing behind her. "I'm introducing myself because I have a slight feeling you don't know me," you said with a smile.

"Amanda," she said, shaking your hand. "Don't worry, I know who you are. A little voice hasn't stopped repeating your name since we arrived in France."

Leah blushed and glanced away.

"Oh," you released Amanda's hand and turned to the blonde, whom you hadn't noticed during either match. "Shouldn't I introduce myself then?" you asked, extending your hand toward Leah.

"No need," Leah said, feeling her mother's not-so-subtle nudge as you extended your hand. "My name is Leah, and I'm a big fan of yours."

"Your number one fan," Amanda chimed in with a smile.

"Mom!" Leah protested, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

You released Leah's hand and turned to Amanda.

"She brought me all the way from England just to see you," Amanda explained, noticing the way you were looking at her daughter. 

"England?" you asked, curious about the mention of England.

"Yes, we're from England," Leah confirmed.

"And my daughter is the captain of—"

"Mom, no!" Leah interjected, her cheeks turning pink as she attempted to silence her mother's impending revelation.

You couldn't help but laugh at Leah's embarrassment, finding the exchange amusing.

"Why are we here?" Leah asked before her mother could continue.

"Oh, right," you replied, regaining your composure. "I wanted to thank you," you said, turning to Amanda and clasping your hands behind your back.

"Me?" "Her?" Amanda and Leah exclaimed simultaneously, surprised by your words.

"Yes," You said softly, your gaze shifting to Leah, a smile returning to your face. "Since the semifinal match, I noticed your mother in the stands. Although, it's hard not to see her," you added, gesturing towards Amanda's red hair. "She was the only person in the whole court who wasn't looking at me. Thanks to her, I was able to concentrate and win. It may sound silly but—"

"Oh, don't worry honey," Amanda interjected. "They usually tell me that I bring good luck in big games," she said, nodding towards Leah with her thumb.

"You're an athlete? Sorry, what was your name again? I don't have a good memory with names," you said, this time blushing slightly.

"Honey, Leah is the captain of the England team," Amanda clarified, speaking on behalf of her daughter.

"Oh... Football? Volleyball?" You inquired.

"Yes, football," Leah replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life, not even as a child.

You glanced Leah up and down once more. You had never imagined a football player could dress so stylishly. You found yourself so engrossed in observing Leah's attire that you only snapped back to reality when your coach cleared his throat.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure to thank you for your help, even if you didn't realize it," you said, pulling an autographed tennis ball out of your pocket. "I'm not sure how valuable this is to you, but perhaps your daughter will appreciate it," you added with a laugh, glancing sideways at Leah. "Well, I must be off now, interviews and all that," you explained, walking away to grab your bag. "Hope to see you two at Wimbledon," you said, winking at Amanda before leaving.

The next day, Leah found herself at the airport, keeping an eye on their suitcases while her mother went to grab something to eat. Suddenly, a notification on her phone caught her off guard.

Y/N_kz started following you

[venus-haze]

She's Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Soldier Boy’s been pulled from the European Theater to sell war bonds to the American people, the goodwill tour dotted by big cities and small towns alike. In the meantime, he gets familiar with the variety of women in dazzling costumes that accompany his speeches with carefully choreographed dances. You’re, without a doubt, his favorite of them all.

Note: Female (blink and you’ll miss it implied plus size) reader, but no other descriptors are used. This fic is so short because it’s pretty much PWP. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Dressing room sex, mirrors, breeding kink, daddy kink, power imbalance, overstimulation, implied baby trapping. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Chattering from the packed high school auditorium somehow seeped through the walls. The rural town that was the latest stop in Soldier Boy’s war bond drive had shown up en masse out of patriotism or sheer curiosity. Usually both. Electricity was always in the air before the show in small towns. Some of them didn’t even have movie theaters. 

You and the other dancers on the tour had set up camp in one of the bigger classrooms, using it to get ready in since it was near one of the bathrooms. Dresses, sequins, and makeup scattered about the room, making the place of learning look like a department store had exploded inside. You’d been helping another girl with the curlers in her hair until a masculine voice called out your name from the doorway.

“Soldier Boy wants to see you in his dressing room.”

You nodded, giving an apologetic look to your colleague, who waved you off. It wasn’t unusual for Soldier Boy to call on one of you to help him “warm up” before the shows. Lately, however, he’d almost exclusively been asking for you, to the detriment of your jaw. 

Grabbing a nearby tube of red lipstick, you hastily applied it in the illuminated mirror in front of you. The lipstick residue soon adorned a tissue that you discarded, and you used your fingertips to gently massage the muscles in your face in preparation for taking him again. You hoped you’d at least get to come this time.

A flyer had gotten you to this point, stark white with patriotic motifs, pinned to a board in the nightclub you had been working in prior to getting the gig. Uncle Sam declared, “Ladies, you can serve your country too!” You figured why not, there was a war on, and if you could do something to help, you might as well. 

Your qualifications led you to your local USO office, where you were handed a star-spangled outfit and joined a gaggle of other girls to be the supporting act on Soldier Boy’s war bonds tour across the country. At times, you felt silly, kicking and shimmying to audiences who were clearly only putting up with the opener just to catch a glimpse at the world’s first superhero. A man larger than life in every sense of the word, as you and your fellow dancers on the tour would learn.

Wandering the hallway, you checked each door for an indication of which commandeered classroom was his. Not one for subtlety, his dressing rooms always had ‘SOLDIER BOY’ printed in large letters, declaring his presence. You found the sign toward the end of the hall, giving a smile to the usual group of people who congregated around him, assistants and handlers to keep him on schedule.

You knocked on the door, announcing your arrival. 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you asked when he opened the door. 

He smiled, putting his hand on your lower back as he ushered you inside. “Sure did, sweetheart.”

His dressing room always betrayed his vices—alcohol, drugs, porno mags. It didn’t faze you anymore, not like the first time he asked for you, a stuttering mess in his presence. Back then, you had to take a shot with him to settle your nerves enough to blow him without feeling too self-conscious. Now, it was routine. You moved to get on your knees, but he stopped you, to your confusion. 

Instead, he disarmed you with a passionate kiss that nearly knocked you over. You steadied yourself on his strong arms that had made their home near your hips. He squeezed them, pulling you closer so your body was flush against his as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. 

You let him take the lead, he always did—strong, masculine, hard-working. Wasn’t America lucky its hero was easy on the eyes too? Except he had a temper, a mean streak that could go for miles. Not that you’d ever been on the receiving end of it. No, for all his faults, you seemed to get the best of Soldier Boy.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispered against your lips.

“You have?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re—“ he paused, searching for the word he wanted to use, “special to me.”

You weren’t sure why he was laying it on so thick. It wasn’t your first rodeo with him. “Special?”

“‘Course you are. You wouldn't be here if you weren’t,” he said. “I wanna try something different today, alright, doll?”

“Alright,” you agreed softly.

He smiled. “That’s my girl.”

Your body came alive at his praise, and you pressed your lips to his for another kiss. He guided your body backward until you bumped into the vanity. Parting his lips from yours, he turned you around, bending you over it so you were face to face with yourself in the mirror. 

You looked at him from the reflection, brows furrowed as you wondered what he was doing. 

He leaned down, voice husky in your ear as he growled, “I want you to see how pretty you look when you come.”

Your eyes widened, and you grabbed either side of the vanity in preparation, to his amusement. He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck as he pushed up your shimmery skirt, exposing your red, satin panties, specially made to be on display. Soon, your panties were around your heeled feet, one of his hands reaching to play with your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts through your top.

“We look good together, don’t you think, sweetheart?” he asked, intense gaze studying your reactions.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned, trying to keep your eyes open. 

He always wanted you to look at him. From your knees when you were sucking him off, when he’d be standing on the side of the stage during your act, in his hotel rooms when he couldn’t find local girls to fuck around with. This instance was different, though, able to really see him, and yourself. You didn’t find your glassy gaze or parted lips particularly flattering, but he couldn’t seem to get enough.

His fingers had already brought you close to climax, and you whined when he pulled them away from you for a moment to free his hard cock from his pants. You shuddered, feeling it on your skin before he guided it in your pussy. Your hands curled around the vanity you were bracing yourself on. You weren’t sure if you’d get used to how his cock seemed to split you apart every time.

One of his arms wrapped just below your chest to hold you up, as you struggled to support yourself when he started pounding into you. Your pussy was already wet and pliant for him, and you'd be embarrassed by the obscene squelching sounds if you weren't so focused on getting off when he had brought you so close to the edge already.

You were your own voyeur, your brain feeling like it was going to melt, watching yourself getting fucked by him. His superhuman strength always caught you off guard, from the first time he shocked you by lifting you above his head on stage for a roaring crowd to the way he could make your body feel—and look—like you were little more than a ragdoll. 

“Gonna put a baby in you,” he grunted as he thrust into you, items falling from the vanity and onto the floor at the force he used to fuck you. “Want you up on that stage with my cum leaking out every time you kick up those legs—fuck—you’re mine.”

Your pussy clenched around him at the vulgar image he conjured up. “Yours daddy.”

His voice was strained, words slurring together. He was close. “‘S right, baby. Keep fuckin’ you ‘till you make me one. You like takin’ daddy’s dick, don’t you?”

You had to force the short affirmation out of your mouth, pleasure’s chokehold creeping up on you. That wasn’t enough for him or his ego.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“I love taking—oh fuck—taking your dick, daddy.”

He came, hard and sloppy as your pussy milked his cock. You cried out, feeling so full it almost started to hurt. Something in you finally snapped, releasing the pain and pressure as you rode out your orgasm on his softening cock. Your arms gave out from under you so that it was just his strength holding you up. You weren’t sure how you’d be able to go back to having sex with men who weren’t well-endowed superheroes. Go back to faking it, you supposed.

Your throat was sore. You hadn’t paid attention to how loud you were being. Everyone outside the room must’ve known what was happening if they didn’t have an idea when you first showed up looking for him. 

Soldier Boy pulled himself out of you, and you could hear fabric rustling and the sound of his zipper again. You didn’t bother trying to stand up, still needing time to catch your breath. 

He used his fingers to swipe up some of his cum that had begun dripping out of you, causing you to gasp at the slight sensation of them brushing against your pussy. You whimpered when he pushed his index and middle fingers inside you, already aching from the orgasm he’d just pulled from you. 

“I—I can’t—“

‘I can’t get pregnant and ruin my career,’ you wanted to say, but all that came from your lips was a desperate, animalistic moan.

“I got you, baby,” Soldier Boy whispered, voice low and husky in your ear. “Give me one more so it sticks.”

You choked on air as his thumb brushed your clit, rubbing circles in the sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers pushed deeper, and your hips bucked at the overstimulation, your spent pussy reactively pulsing around his cum-slicked fingers that curled inside you.

The woman staring back at you in the mirror was a mess with her mascara stained cheeks and smeared lipstick. You were utterly unrecognizable as you came again, harder on his fingers this time, crying out as you gripped the edge of the vanity, threatening to break one of your manicured nails. 

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing kisses to your cheek, as you came down from your second orgasm, pulling his hand from between your legs. “You alright?”

“I think so,” you breathed. “Jesus Christ.”

Your legs felt like jelly beneath you, and you wondered how the hell you were going to be able to dance in less than half an hour. You’d have to reapply all of your makeup too.

He turned you around, looking at you with a brief fondness before kissing your lips, soft and quick. 

“I need to fix my face,” you breathed.

He smiled. “Why? You look great.” 

You laughed softly as he gave you space. You pulled up your panties from around your ankles, knowing his cum would stain them by the time you made it back to the dancers’ makeshift dressing room. Taking some of the tissues from the box on top of the vanity, you began wiping your ruined makeup from your face. He stared at you in silence from the spot he’d taken on the loveseat that’d been brought in for him.

“I think I’d be a good father. Better than my old man,” he said finally.

You paused, looking at him from the mirror, giving him a sardonic smile. “I don’t see you as the settling down type.”

“Maybe I just need a woman worth coming home to.”

“Maybe,” you echoed.

“C’mere.”

You obliged, joining him on the loveseat. He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. You let yourself bask in the intimacy.

“Things aren’t always gonna be like this,” he said. “Once the war’s over, what’re you gonna do? Go back to dancing in nightclubs?”

“Why not?”

His jaw clenched, cheek twitching as he pulled his gaze from you. “I don’t want you doing this for anyone but me.”

This could have been any number of things, dancing, fucking, being at his beck and call. Knowing him, he meant all of it.

“Ben,” you said, grabbing his attention, “then you have to tell me what you do want.”

“I want you. I want the white picket fence, kids running around the yard with the dog,” he said, the intensity in his voice wrapping tendrils around your mind, pulling you into the world he was describing. “I want dinner to burn ‘cause I was busy putting another baby in you when I got home.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

A voice through the door startled you. “Soldier Boy, the mayor’s here to see you!” 

“Think about it,” Soldier Boy said, getting up from the loveseat to grab his helmet and shield. 

The door shut behind him, leaving you to agonize over the future he presented to you. Part of you wondered if you’d really have a choice.

[archiveofvirtue]

pov: you are in a secret relationship with jensen ackles ᡣ𐭩

youruser

Liked by madelyncline and others

youruser in aspen it’s snowin’ ❄️

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girlblogg y/n living her best life

vixen67 why can’t I be y/n??

yourbestiesuser so sad i couldn’t make it, but have fun you two

youruser we definitely are 😎

anonuser who is this secret hottie @/youruser

modelzdaily gotta fbi my way into this atp

randomuser there’s been rumors that she’s dating @/jensenackles

spnfan726 stop spreading lies

ari4president isn’t he married??

randomuser girl- he’s been divorced for like a year now 😭

jensenackles

Liked by jaredpadalecki and others

jensenackles 🏂

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hellraiser666 oh he been livin’

spnfan618 a vacay with jensen would make me go sane again

forjackles you’re so real for that

randomuser getting all cozy with @/youruser huh

j2indahouse can u not? nothings confirmed

randomuser please its so obvious

gibson-g1rl he looks so good..im going feral

superstarmisha bark bark

youruser

Liked by misha and others

youruser yeehaw 🤠

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anonuser it’s giving summer camp and im here for it

hottogo dreamy

yourbestiesuser my favorite cowgirl

youruser smooches 😽

tvdstan3 helloo?? I wanna know who she’s with all the time

genpadalecki the hat’s been made for you 🙌🏼

youruser duh i had the best shopping partner !!

spnfam67 *shook*

daddycas123 a duo we didn’t know we needed

jensenackles

Liked by youruser and others

jensenackles pretty comfortable up here 😁

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beanwinchester this man aged like fine wine fr

youruser save a horse, ride a cowboy

liked by jensenackles

joywithin oh..OH-

spnultras SHE DID NOT

jacklesmylove ohgod he liked her comment

jaredpadalecki why the long face? 🤣🤣

winchesterbros no jared..nope

randomuser i wanna ride (not the horse tho)

youruser

Liked by jensenackles and others

youruser about last week 🍝

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dailyfits ohh she bougie

mishabear THE TATTOO?? THATS JENSEN

spnfan123 yup, definitely him

sammygirl why is no one talking about this??

girlzzz444 face card never declines

jesswinchester jensen carrying her shoes? 😫

sirenshay such a gentleman,,im so jealous

belovedregina serving cunt in all possible languages

supernctural they must be dating atp

hope u enjoyed this, i always wanted to do something like this !!

feedback and requests would be appreciated.

got inspired by the lovely @gibson-g1rl !!

tags: @gibson-g1rl @nuemanfilms @angelicjackles @nxptvn @pinkgic @nourties @alluvthegurlz

[frogchiro]

Awww imagine high honor Arthur with a spoiled bratty reader 🥹 she would drive him wild since she always gave him demands and it made him happy to be of service but also made him hard as a rock to know no other man would be able to keep up with his darling's constant spoiled demands ✨

High Honor!Arthur would be a mess!

You can call him a lot of things; a scroundel, an outlaw, a bandit even but one thing you can't accuse him of is his lack of desire to serve you! He'd do anything for you, his pretty, spoiled princess!

He knew that before you joined the gang you were used to living in a certain...standard. A young lady from a rich family, used to luxuries of any kind, or at least before your family was killed for messing with the wrong men, you as the sole miracle survivor.

Arthur realized that going from a manor with servants to a tent in a camp with outlaws all around was certainly a...downgrade to say the least, but he's anything but determined to keep his lil' lady happy and content!

And you appreciate it of course! You love Arthur, you love how thoughtful and considerate he is, you love how he still treats you like a proper lady and you really try to give back as much as you can, it's just...Old habits die hard you guess.

Luckily for you whenever your bratty tone starts to shine through that you're so cold in your tent or that the pillows are hard or that the blankets are too thin, Arthur is immediately there, ready to serve on hand and foot the moment a whine escapes your pretty lips!

He will buy you all the pillows or thick warm furs to keep you warm, maybe even some precious stones or jewelry if a particular robbery goes well and nothing quite makes him smile so much (or makes him so hard it's painful) than seeing your delighted grin whenever you try on the new shiny necklace or try out the pretty perfume he got for you, anything for his precious lady!

And despite HH!Arthur being a perfect gentleman, the truth is that he's still only a man; a man with needs :((

He'd never try to force you into anything, God forbid, but he will never say no to a bit of...gratitude from you. He calls you a vixen, a little sly minx whenever you give him that coy look and purr up to him, your pretty, full breasts pressing against his chest as you beacon him further into your shared tent, closer to the wonderfully soft and warm nest of feather pillows and furs you made from his gifts.

There is that whine of yours too of course, but this time not demanding a pretty new ring or necklace, no. This time it's you whining because Arthur is just too far away from you and you need him with you; the furs weren't as warm as he expected and now he had to take responsibility and be the one to keep you warm at night <3

[dumbofass-homo]

I've been thinking about how Halsin is always the caretaker.

He takes care of nature, but that's obvious. He takes care of a bunch of orphaned kids in the endgame. He took care of the grove, healed people, took in refugees. He cares about Tav (even if he is not Tav's partner) and the rest of the weirdos in the party. He cares.

It's so easy to forget that he is also a person that needs caring for. He is large and always has his emotions under control, so people tend to brush off his needs, sometimes subconsciously. And he is used to it, living for as long as he has.

It even shows in the fanart and fanfics - he is almost always the one to offer support and encouragement, emotional or otherwise. In the smutty works, he is almost exclusively the top, caring for his partners'pleasure.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this or what I'm trying to say, but I think he would just melt if his partners and/or companions would slowly start taking things off his shoulders.

The children want bedtime stories? Astarion will do you one better. He will act out the heroic victory over a certain vampire with so much flare he will be the talk of the settlement for days to come. He most certainly didn't do that to get the kids off Halsin's bear back and most definitely doesn't enjoy his new fans.

Lae'zel isn't affectionate, no, not at all. It's just that when she sees how dull his blades are, it infuriates her. Definitely. So she takes them, along with his armor and polishes everything to perfection, just like she would her own. The githyanki cannot allow their metal to be in less than perfect condition, you see.

New refugees came to the settlement and Tav gets them settled, shows them the place they've built and makes sure they know they're safe. The newcomers are a little baffled that one of the saviors of Baldur's gate is so normal, and it gives them reassurance. Tav wants to make sure not everyone needs to look to Halsin for the smallest things.

In the midst of the shadow curse, despite their animosity, Shadowheart infuses several items around camp with light. She knows he must miss the sun.

In Rivington, Gale scouts for ingredients for a certain cake. He can't find what he's looking for, the settlement is very short on sweets. But with his little eye (and a bit of magic) he finds a honey bee hive. A few blisters and agry bees later - a small honeycake is done, served with tea. Gale didn't want to make assumptions but Tav had told him their favorite bear loves honey.

On a particularly dreadful night, Wyll invites Alfira to play them a few tunes. He goes from person to person and gets them to their feet to do a little dance. Halsin is sure he has two left feet so he is reluctant to try - but everyone cheers and encourages him so he does, peer pressure be damned. He steps on Wyll's feet and has no idea how to move his body in sync, but Wyll isn't phased by it. He moves and twirls him around and Halsin is sure that looks absolutely ridiculous - but he is having fun, for the first time in a long time.

[avocado-writing]

May I ask for a companions x Tav headcanons list were Tav loves to cook and see's it as a way to people's hearts?

Astarion

Obviously is sad he cannot partake more, as he sees how much effort and love you put into your cooking.

You make an effort to make richly-flavoured blood dishes he might enjoy, just for him! But everyone thinks it’s just a tad bit morbid (and he agrees) so won’t ask you to go out of your way for him.

“Besides darling, I prefer to sample straight from the source…”

One night you’ve just pressed some parsley leaves to your neck for flavouring for him. He laughs so hard he cries. This is the first time he realises he loves you.

Gale

Oh, the camp’s resident cook is delighted to have a sous-chef!

And then he realises oops, no, he is the sous-chef. At which point he’s just happy to sit and watch you work your magic.

Happy to make dinner in order to pull his weight in the group, but he’s entranced watching you do it, too. You’re a wizard with some knives and a saucepan.

He can feel the love you put into every bite. Always makes sure to go out of his way to compliment you, and loves the way you smile in return ❤️

Wyll

After spending so much time on the road, he’s so happy to be in the presence of a good cook.

With every bite will discuss the flavour palate of your dish, talking about what herbs he can taste, letting you know he appreciates your effort.

He’s not a brilliant chef himself but would love for you to teach him!

In return he saves up to buy you fancy chocolates from the best chocolatier in Baldur’s Gate. It’s the least you deserve, and the way you light up makes his heart beat fast.

Karlach

Whatever you make, she loves.

“Pasta? My favourite! Oh my god, we’re having steak? I love it! Rice tonight? Right on!!”

She doesn’t have a favourite food. Dishes in Avernus were not wide in range, so she’s just happy to eat some different meals for once.

You give her seconds and thirds and she eats them up, going on and on about what a good cook you are.

“You’re so amazing at this! I love you!”

Good thing she’s too engrossed in her food to notice how flustered you are…

Lae’zel

Reluctant to eat anything at first.

“I do not want your istik food. I shall provide for myself.”

But after a few days of smelling how good the food is that you cook, she gives in… still trying to pretend it’s beneath her.

You serve her a small portion to start with, then watch her eyes widen as she realises how delicious it tastes.

She is too proud to ask for more - and you’d not have her any other way - but you make sure to serve her big portions from then on. Her bowl is always scraped clean.

Shadowheart

Isn’t too sure on your cooking at first - she’s used to bland, tasteless meals at the temple - but quickly comes around.

The longer you’re together and the closer you become, the more she opens up about her favourite flavours. Eventually she starts making requests.

“There’s this sort of cake I vaguely remember… if I can get you the honey, could you make it for me?”

Of course you can. You sit down and share it, watching her eyes roll back in delight, the way she licks the crumbs off of her fingers. The two of you are enamoured with each other, but you still fight over the last slice.

[the-astral-sea]

Morning Wood (Gale x fem!Tav) (smut)

18+ I decided to write something vulgar and smutty and I’ve never written anything like this before so I hope it’s good. It’s a bit filthy and not a long read, but I enjoyed testing my writing abilities with something new :)

Set after the defeat of Ketheric, it’s Gales turn to collect the fire wood before hitting the road. Tav wakes him up, and things progress from there. Like, really progress.

The air was thick with anticipation. After destroying Ketheric and claiming his stone, the Shadow Cursed Lands could finally begin to heal. The birds could finally return, flowers and trees could finally grow, life could flourish once again and the shell of Moonrise could finally be restored to it’s former glory, standing as a beacon of hope and serving as a place of healing and worship to Selune.

The battle last night was long, strenuous and surprising, but well fought and well won nonetheless. Tav was covered in cuts and bruises, as was everyone else in the party - but it didn’t matter. Ketheric’s defeat and the promise of a better future was worth every drop of blood, every aching muscle and every tear shed.

As morning came around, the camp slowly came to life. Each individual a mixture of happy, exhausted and anxious about the road ahead to Baldurs Gate. “I can’t wait to see this place once Thaniel has healed the land” Karlach sighed longingly, looking over to Tav who had just stumbled out of her tent with a smile. “It’s going to be beautiful. I can’t wait until we no longer need to light fires in the morning, it’s so strange how the darkness tricks us into thinking it’s constantly night time here” she replied, “speaking of which, it’s Gale’s turn to collect the morning wood. Is he up yet?” her voice was groggy and she rubbed her eyes, trying hard to wake herself up and plan for the day ahead. “Not yet Solider, it might be worth giving him a nudge. There’s no time for a lie-in unfortunately”. Tav obliged and yawned as she plodded over to Gales tent, still in her nightgown, her hair wild and makeup smeared after failing to remove it the night before. Her hands carefully untied one of the bonds keeping his tent closed as she made her way inside, revealing a peacefully sleeping wizard with one hand on his chest, the other still grasping at a half opened book. She smiled down at the sight. He looked so at peace it was almost a shame to disturb him, but things needed to be done no matter how cute he looked tangled in his sheets. So focused on his face and the way he smiled as he slept, Tav didn’t even notice the distinct bulge lower down in his blanket. Had she payed attention, she may have worded her next sentence a bit more mindfully.

“Gale? Wake up, you need to sort out morning wood” her voice was soft and calm, so she didn’t understand why he awoke with such a shocked expression and immediately turned bright red. The usually chatty Gale stared up at her with wide eyes and no words, shuffling slightly in his bedroll. “What? It’s your turn, get up” she chuckled, ruffling his hair and sitting cross legged next to him, still completely oblivious to the hard situation between his legs. “Oh! Right, yes. I will do that shortly, I just need a moment” he finally stuttered, adjusting himself in a poor attempt to conceal the awkward truth. Tav, however, still had no idea why he was acting so strangely and rolled her eyes before continuing, “There’s no time for a lie-in, you should really get up now sir” she jested, noticing him turn red again at the nickname ‘sir’.

“Tav… I’m already up, if you know what I mean. I could really use a few minutes” Gale sighed with a defeated tone, not knowing how else to approach the situation to the clearly confused woman sat next to him. It was only then that she let her eyes wander to the rest of his body and finally understood why he seemed so flustered. The large lump in his sheets was a dead giveaway to his behaviour; it was now Tav’s turn to have her cheeks shift to a rosey hue. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I’m still half asleep myself, I didn’t even think” she chuckled awkwardly, still glancing down at the twitching shape lurking beneath the covers. She should’ve looked away but her eyes refused to move, they were transfixed, curious and eager. Her mind had often wondered what Gale looked like in all his glory, she’d desired him for quite some time now and their close, flirty bond had been building up to a more intimate understanding of one another for weeks. “You definitely have nothing to feel awkward about, I’ll tell you that much” she blushed, ripping her gaze away from his cock to meet his eyes. His eyes that were now darkened with desire and glimmer of danger. He chuckled in response then repeated himself again, not wanting to assume anything or cross any boundaries, “why thank you, I just need a few minutes to calm down and I’ll be right out” there was a hint of hope in his tone that Tav couldn’t quite ignore. Looking at him in this state was causing quite the stir, and it was clear that his embarrassment had shifted to lustful confidence at her reaction. “You know, I could help you out with that” she could hardly believe herself, the words slipped out of her mouth without a thought, it was as if she’d completely forgotten how to filter herself. Who could blame her? There was an undeniable charm to Gale, not to mention an undeniable attraction between the two. The way he tried to hide his desires only made him more alluring, and Tav wanted nothing more than to unleash him. At her words, he smiled coyly and motioned for Tav to come closer, holding eye contact as she floated towards him like a ghost. He rested his hand on the back of her head, brushing over her tousled hair before holding her cheek as he moved in for a kiss. It was slow and passionate, filled with weeks worth of longing. Tav’s hand moved down his body under the sheets and her mind was set alight with the feeling of his warm, soft skin under her fingers. His body was toned and hairier than she’d imagined, and it drove her wild realising that her fantasies were about to come true as she continued to work her way down him.

“Are you sure? We can talk about this more before we dive into anything if you’d li-“ his words were cut short by Tav leaning in for another kiss, her movements intentional, tailored for his pleasure.

Gale let out a soft grunt as her fingers wrapped around his rock hard shaft, it’d been well over a year since he’d felt the touch of a woman and he could barely keep himself together as her hand began to slowly pump up and down. “Fuck” he moaned, pulling the sheets aside to reveal his entire body, smiling up at Tav who let out a delighted gasp at the sight. “I want you, Tav. I want to see you, touch you, feel you. I have done for weeks” he stifled between breaths, toying with the tied straps of her nightgown to expose her nude form. His cock tensed at the sight of her, the way her body curved in all the right places and the revelation that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She moved her hand away from his body slowly, but instead of climbing on top of it, she put his cock into her mouth and circled the tip with her tongue, lapping up the precum like nectar. Through soft moans, he pleaded for her to fuck him; it was music to her ears. But she wasn’t done yet. She wanted to watch him struggle to hold himself together for a while longer. After all, she was nothing if not a perfectionist and the way her mouth moved around him had him struggling for air, eyes rolling back, hands grasping at the sheets next to him. Just when she thought he was reaching his limit, she licked up his length and stopped.

“What’s that? You want to lose yourself inside of me?” She enquired innocently, looking up at him doe eyed. “Yes. Please, fucking hells, yes” he grunted, grabbing her by the throat and pulling her in for a desperate, sloppy kiss as she lowered herself onto his member, straddling him with ease, resulting in sounds of pure ecstasy as she slowly worked her hips to take more and more of him in. The feeling was unparalleled, the way he twitched and thrusted into her was nothing short of flawless. Their bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity, creating a harmony of moans and muttered “fuck”s. They didn’t even think about where they were or who could hear them at this point, this had been building up for so long now and they could no longer deny themselves the pleasures the flesh and soul combining. The way they fucked was an art - no painter or sculptor could ever compete.

Gale, who was usually so composed, had transformed into a wild animal on the hunt. His body was glistening with sweat and his big brown eyes had shifted from their usual warm gaze to something much darker and sinful. He flipped Tav onto her back effortlessly and pinned her legs over her head as he thrusted deep inside of her, causing her to whine in pained bliss. She was wet, hot and shaking at this point, moaning freely without a care in the world as she took every inch with a smile on her face. Gale couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced anything like this; perhaps he never had. He had never fucked anyone so recklessly or felt anything near as intensely. He had slept with a goddess before, but Tav made him feel like a God.

Tav never expected him to be like this in bed, so primal and hungry. Miles away from the perfect gentleman she’d pinned him as. For a moment, she was worried he would rip her in half with the sheer size of his cock, it was thick and much larger than she’d dreamt, and hurt like hell but was balanced with bliss. Suddenly the enchanted briefs made a lot of sense. He thrusted into her with skill and rhythm, whilst his hand circled softly over her clit as the other pinned her into position. It was transcendent. She let out a final moan before the pleasure pushed her over the edge, her walls clenching around him tightly. She looked like an angel, eyes flittering back, body jerking, sweat shining on her breasts. Feeling and seeing her finish on his cock was enough to make Gale release, pulsating a heavy warm load inside of her, feeling lightheaded in response to his overwhelming orgasm. Immediately, he leaned in for a kiss and pulled her into a cuddle, heart pounding and head racing at the realisation that they’d finally slept together after so much yearning.

A few moments passed in silence, both of them too stunned to speak until Gale finally broke “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that”. Tav giggled in response before finding her words, “trust me, I understand”. They laid together for a while longer before getting dressed and deciding to face the rest of the camp, hoping to god that nobody overheard their activities.

However, they weren’t exactly careful or quiet, and Karlach refused to make eye contact when the pair left the tent. Shadowheart was the colour of red wine, “I, uh, sent Astarion to get the wood instead.”

“Thanks…” Gale stuttered.

[yarrayora]

i like how falin being a maiden to be saved, a reward to be coveted, isn't a point to criticize in dungeon meshi. because we have various other female characters who are written as having their own agency

we have marcille, of course, whose story can be observed since chapter 1. how she's not depicted as the "girl team member" but "part of the team". when you're writing a protagonist group where there's only one female character among the male cast, you can always feel this sense of alienation in the writing, like she doesn't belong in the group as the story focuses on the rest of the boys. the way masashi kishimoto writes team 7 is a major example

but marcille is still allowed to be a "typical girl" who doesn't want to eat gross things and enjoy feminine clothing without forgetting the fact that she's a multifaceted person. she's a researcher who isn't afraid to get dirty when it's something relevant to magic and her goal, even though she's also grossed out at the idea of feces being used as fertilizer for crops

and when falin comes back as a monster who can't speak, it's still not a point to criticize. oftentimes stories involving female characters losing their speech (or, well, becoming disabled in some way) is meant to make her vulnerable, a fragile 'something' to be protected. but this is not an argument about how chimera falin is super strong, because that's a shallow way of thinking that ignores the fact that being a Girlboss doesn't ensure your female character is written as a fully realized person. this is about the fact that almost right after that Izutsumi joins Laios' party.

She joins late in the game, so it'll be easy for her to only be tacked on as an afterthought. A notable example would be Okumura Haru from Persona 5, where her character gets overshadowed a lot by the other party members' more colorful personalities, as if the writer wasn't sure how to integrate her into the already developed dynamic.

there's also how she's written as a sweet and shy girl yet the way her school uniform is designed betrays that image. it's heavily customized even compared to the trendy girl like ann which means it's impossible for her outfit to not go against school regulation. not something an obedient girl would have done. which makes me wonder if they couldn't decide on her writing until last minute.

but Izutsumi is different. her involvement and her own personal story arc eventually intertwines to the overarching plot. she hates having her options limited. she hates having responsibilities to uphold. she hates eating veggies! she hates that people expects her to do things their way! she wants freedom to do whatever she wants!

but in the end she learns that to have the freedom to choose, she has to uphold her responsibilities. starting from the simple things like taking care of her health by eating balanced meals, not just the ones she enjoy. she has to do work to get enough money for her food and travels. and she has to learn how society works so she can live independently. she has to learn which desire she has to prioritize that she can balance out with her responsibility as a living being.

her own self-realization culminates into her giving advice to laios that leads to him steeling his resolves to become king.

so you have Falin, who gets turned into a monster that cant communicate her desire and needs while under the mad sorcerer's control, and in exchange you get Izutsumi, the 'beastman' who knows exactly what she wants and throws a tantrum about it without shame, not understanding that what you want isn't always what you need. i think it's a really cool parallel!

this is a prime example of how tropes that get associated with misogynistic writing can be used as a proper tool that serves a narrative when you have more than multiple female characters having their own character arcs

in fact, you can apply this to pretty much every other things. when you're writing gay characters, having only one of them and they act camp can make people raise an eyebrow at whether this is meant to be a caricature of gay people or not. having two of them and one acts camp and one acts normie can be read as a bias against gay people expressing themselves. writing multiple gay characters, all with different personalities and desires will avoid accidental stereotyping.

even the minor female characters, be it the canaries or namari, help show that the way the narrative treats Falin isn't born from thinking that women are an alien breed compared to men. that her lack of agency means something for the themes involved.