#they better do something nice for him please | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

letsgobarbs · 3 days ago

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@slimybeth69 @guiltyasdave @luvvyouforever Hahaha... Happy New Year?

Pairing: carpenter!joel miller x Reader x lumberjack!logan howlett

Warnings: It's almost 6k of just porn :) she's got a little power dynamics, dub-con, fingering, outdoor sex, oral (both male and female receiving), boobs, anal play, double penetration, a healthy amount of degradation and also a little praise, unprotected p in v sex, maybe a little dumbification if you squint... yeah, I think that pretty much covers it. Oh, it's also romantic sometimes.

A/N: I opened up a tab to search for what lumberjacks and carpenters do, and types of wood and stuff. Then I instantly closed it, because that's not important. It's not what the people want. But what I googled in a short minute gives you a nice little opening. Like the script and scene before the sexy stuff starts.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Your lips wobbled from the effort to not cry.

“Don’t go crying on me now, bub. The order will take time, can’t just keep chopping all day because that asshole boss of yours demands it.” Logan wasn’t even paying attention to you now, both his feet were propped up on the desk while he leisurely lit a cigar. But not even the sight of his biceps bulging in that sleeveless white undershirt of his could make you feel better. It was all your fault and you could lose your job for it. Joel had asked you to place the order for, specifically, a Black Locust tree with its log sliced into 2-inch thick slices.

“I know you have the tree, Logan, please. I saw it on my way in. Can’t you please just cut it into smaller logs… I’ll do the slicing myself. Please.”

“Yeah? You know your way around a chainsaw?” You didn’t appreciate the sardonic eyebrow raise he gave you.

“I will figure it out, please, Logan. I need that wood today. Or else I’ll lose my job. It was totally my fault for forgetting to place the order—”

“It’s not the first time you’ve forgotten an order. Sometimes, I wonder why Joel even keeps you around, he’s not a very patient man.” You were too busy feeling aggrieved and anxious to notice the way he looked you up and down, lingering over the way your t-shirt snugly stretched over your boobs.

“Don’t say that… I’m very good with numbers, I handle the accounts and taxes really well—”

“That’s all you do for him? Accounts and taxes?” There was laughter coating his voice as he blew out a cloud of smoke between you. You tried not to cough.

“I clean too…” You cleaned and closed up the workshop for Joel every day. That’s what you would have been doing right now had you not fucked up your job.

“Well, I can’t keep covering for your mistakes, bub.” He stood from his seat, walking out the back door into his working area. You followed behind still badgering him for your order.

“Please, Logan, I’ll do anything. I can look over your account books? I know you needed someone to do that for you. Or maybe I can clean up for you today?”

“I don’t do overtime, makes me tired.” Horeseshit.

“Please, I’ll give you a massage or something. Whatever your old bones need to not be tired.” You didn’t mean to be snippy with him, after all, you were still trying to coax him to give you the order. But he was clearly just being difficult.

He seemed to think about your offer as he sat on the tree stump that usually served as his chopping block. You put away your attitude to give him your best pleading, puppy-dog, eyes again while he blew several more puffs of smoke.

“Lift your skirt.” You thought you had imagined his words. That your brain was just playing tricks on you from how often you had daydreamed about this man.

“What?” He looked like he had just casually commented on the weather, but his eyes were dark, almost predatory.

“What? Nobody taught a cute little thing like you how men like to end a long day at work?” He thought you were cute? And you were by no means little, but you looked at his muscled, brawny form, his large hands, sturdy thighs, and that growing bulge in his dark-washed jeans. Oh, this man could make you feel little in every sense of the word. The walls of your pussy flutter and clench around emptiness.

“Logan—”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to… you could always just go back and tell Joel you forgot to put in the order for that rich, fussy client.” You couldn’t disappoint Joel.

You tentatively made your way to stand between his spread thighs, the smug smirk on his face unfortunately made your nipples stiffen; and you felt a warm, twisting tug between your legs at the thought of letting this man have his way with you. It’s all you have thought about since the day you met him.

“So… we do stuff? And you’ll give me the wood?” You confirm again, hoping this wasn’t some cruel joke he’s playing on you.

“Oh, I’ll give you the wood, alright.” A giggle slips through at his pun, the tension between the two of you slightly eased at the sound.

You slowly lift your skirt to reveal the baby-pink cotton panties you were wearing; had you known this was the plot twist in store for you, you would have gone for one of the sexier, lacier ones you own. But Logan releases a soft groan at the sight anyway. Your thighs clench involuntarily at the sound, and you keep them together in fear that he will see how desperately turned on you are when he hasn’t even touched you. His cigar is abandoned between his lips as he brings his hand to gently part your legs and graze your slit over your underwear, finding the wet little patch you had leaked in his presence.

“Oh, you dirty fucking slut. You’ve been walking around me, dripping this entire time.”

He slides his fingers into your panties, caressing the damp patch of fabric between his thumb and fingertips. You shivered at the feel of his rough knuckles gliding over your folds. Your hips rock forward over the loose fist he has on your underwear begging for more friction. A whine escapes your lips at the loss of contact when Logan slides the panties down your legs, making you step out of them and then pocketing the panties in the back of his jeans.

This time, there is no cover as he cups your sex, you’re so wet his fingers glide over your folds. His thumb is almost too rough on your clit, and it makes you stagger away with a gasp of protest to escape the touch. But Logan leverages the two middle fingers he has pressed inside your pussy—pulling you closer with the hand in your cunt— they curl inside you and catch a spot that has white heat spreading behind your eyes. He presses an apologetic kiss just under the curve of your belly.

“Lift the t-shirt up too, let me see those gorgeous tits, babe. Been imagining what they’d look like for months…”

You lift your top, and your sensible cotton bra with it, letting your boobs fall from their perch and dangle right in front of his face in a lewd offering. He blows the hot cigar smoke right over your erect nipple while his other hand reaches up to brush a knuckle over the other one. He kneaded your breasts, squeezing and lifting them in his palms to feel their weight; your nipples insistently pucker into his palms for attention, and he relents by lifting your boobs by their nipples.

In slow, unhurried movements, he rolls the buds between his fingers, giving them sharp tugs, unpredictable flicks, and gentle scratches from his nails— studying the sounds you make at each action. It’s like a live wire connects your nipples to your clit. The mean twist he gives to your nipple along with the rough pinch to your clit sends you over the edge as you shake and convulse, limply landing on his lap unable to hold yourself up on your own two feet.

Logan whispered gentle words as you came down from your high, none of which you heard over the rush of blood in your ears. He soothingly rubbed along your spine, letting the last of the tremors leave your body while you rested your head on his shoulder, taking in large mouthfuls of air. He smells of smoky tobacco, coffee and sweat.

He tenderly removed his fingers from your pussy with a loud, squelching sound, and bought his arm up to taste your juices coating his fingers.

He licked a finger with a soft moan, “Knew you’d be so fucking sweet.”

Then he offered you his other finger, shoving the digit into your gaping mouth, “Taste yourself, Darling.” And you suckle his finger, swirling your tongue around it thinking of an entirely different part of his body you would rather be sucking.

He stands to position you over the stump of wood he was sitting on; his finger receding from your mouth as his hand cups your jaw and lowers you so your hands are flat against the wood. Your tits felt full and heavy from this angle after how much he’d worked them. He guided you with a hand on your hips so that your ass stuck out for him— your wet, shiny pussy lips on display.

Logan ran a large, calloused hand from the base of your spine to your skull; his fingers tangled in your hair and pulled your head up, “Tell me you want it, Darling.”

“Yes, please, Logan. I want it.” You pleaded with him as you gazed over your shoulder to watch him unzip his jeans behind you. He roughly tugged your head to make you face forward.

“Yeah? Look at you, nothing more than a cock hungry slut who would let me fuck her like an animal in broad daylight.”

The bark of the tree dug into your palms. There was a cool wind against your heated, oversensitive skin that reminded you that you were outside. And right ahead of you, you noticed the gap in the tree line, anybody driving by could see you being fucked with your tits out if they turned their head.

Logan tapped your ankle with his foot, kicking your legs wider apart for him. He lined his cock with your opening and you felt the bulbous tip of him try to enter— two fingers were not enough to have prepped you for him. The stretch burned you, and your body tensed under the intrusion; you felt the pressure right up against your throat, for a brief moment, you worried you would throw up before you had taken him all in.

Logan’s arm banded around your waist, pulling you deeper on his cock. You hadn’t even realised you were running away. He made soft hushing sounds at you while he rocked into your cunt with shallow thrusts, not really moving inside you so much as swaying your bodies back and forth.

“You’re doing so well, Darling. That’s it… relax. Good girl. Don’t tense up on me now, you’ll kill me.”

His arm came under you to finger at your clit again, working the little bud in tight circles until the walls of your pussy relented and let him slide in further. He bullied his cock into your hole for what felt like forever, you were starting to believe there was no end to his dick until his balls slapped heavily against your mound.

“What a perfect fucking cunt, so tight and wet. You were made to take a good fucking, weren’t you? Made for my cock.”

He set a brutal pace, rough and fast. His dick retreated until only his tip was inside, before shoving back in again. The slide of his cock against your walls in deep, long strokes was dizzying. The burning stretch settled into thrilling currents as the pool of pleasure widened from your core to move up your spine and to the rest of the body. He pistoned into you, chasing his own release with his fingers curled into your clit providing additional friction. There was a tension building inside you.

At some point, you stopped pushing back onto his cock to meet him thrust for thrust, unable to keep up with his forceful movements. Your knees buckled under you, chafing against the edge of the stump. All you could do was take it, take everything he was giving you. Your hands lost strength, causing you to drop onto your elbows— your sensitive nipples were caught against the rough wood below. The broken moans and pleas were interrupted by a shocked yelp. Oh my God, were you the one making those sounds?

All at once, you came with a scream, shuddering with the force of your orgasm. Your release coated Logan’s cock and his thighs. The walls of your pussy clenched around him and milked him for his cum— somehow you felt him sink even deeper into you. You laid there, a sheen of sweat covering your back, in warm relief while he grunted and rutted into you— his own words coming out broken by gasps and groans.

He came with long, heavy spurts that scalded the walls of your cunt, making you feel impossibly fuller. The ash from his cigar fell on the small of your back, the heated sensation unexpectedly intense against your skin sending another wave of ripples through your awakened nerves. He kept fuckin his release deeper into you, a zing of pleasure working into your body again, until his cock slid out of you only half hard.

He stood there watching you long after he had tucked himself back into his jeans; your body slumped over, languid and spent— your palms still gripping the edge of the stump, your knees perched on the wood, folded over the block with just your ass in the air. But the most fascinating sight was his creamy, white cum leaking out of your red, swollen cunt. He hadn’t cum like that in decades. Logan used two of his fingers to scoop some of his cum that was dripping out, and smeared it over your asshole.

“Gonna be in this fuckhole next, Darling.” His voice thick with dark promise.

He pulled you up after affectionately patting your pussy, his fingers landed against your clit— the sensation making you twitch with need again. He pulled your bra back over your tits, followed by your t-shirt, and then lowered your skirt to cover you again. He guided you back into his office with a hand on your waist, handing you a glass of iced water and a seat.

You watched him shuffle a few things around and pull out… 2-inch thick slices of Black Locust logs neatly tied with a rope. You accusingly stared at him, not regretting what happened— you would’ve easily let Logan fold you like a pretzel and fuck into you for as long as he wanted any day— but he really could’ve helped you avoid all this stress and anxiety. You could’ve fucked him after as a thank you!

“Joel reminded me at the bar a few days ago to not forget his order. Didn’t mention it to him that you never placed it.” He explained with a teasing huff. Logan loaded the car for you— not the only thing he had loaded today.

“Umm, thanks… can I have my panties back please.” You notice your underwear hanging out of his back pocket.

“No, I think I’ll be keeping these.” He said while he took an obscene sniff of your panties.

You had no idea how you drove back, your legs still felt wobbly and jittery. You braced yourself for an earful from Joel as you glanced around the clean workshop. He had cleaned up without waiting for you. You would gratefully take his scolding today, there was no way you would have been able to clean the place without Logan’s cum dribbling down your thighs.

“Where were you?” Joel scowled at you.

“Umm… just went to pick up your order from Logan’s— Sorry. The traffic was insane… did you need anything else before I close up?” You grew scared when Joel didn’t say anything for several long minutes.

“Did you check what he gave you? Correct wood? Even slices? I don’t want to have to sit down and shave off some wood.”

“Yeah, seemed fine to me…”

“How’d you hurt your knees?” He asked while nodding towards your knees. You desperately choked back a strangled gasp at his question and looked down at your knees as if they might answer for you. They were scratched up and bleeding— only after seeing them did you realise they were stinging.

“Oh, I fell.”

“And that bastard Logan didn’t even offer you a bandaid?” Joel frowned as he retrieved the first-aid kit from one of the cabinets.

“It happened after I left his.” Your voice sounded unbelievably high and false to your own ears.

Joel tapped the top of his work table in a wordless command for you to hop on while he pulled a chair for himself. You gingerly climbed onto the table, folding your skirt under you, keeping your thighs clenched so he wouldn’t catch a glimpse of your bare pussy— interlocking your ankles for good measure. Your boss was another tall, dark, handsome, brooding man with a heart of gold in your life. You admired the way his jean shirt stretched over the expanse of his shoulders while he gently dabbed some antibiotic ointment over your scrapes.

“Tell me, sweetheart, you got these scrapes by kneeling for Logan and letting him fuck into your mouth?”

“JOEL—”

“What? You think I wouldn’t be able to tell with the way you walked in here, all bow-legged and unsteady like a fresh foal?” He looked disappointed.

“I—”

“You see, sweetheart, I had a bet with that bastard. He thought you would easily spread your legs, wouldn’t even need convincin’. But here I was, thinking you were a good girl with her head full of numbers and taxes. Thought you’d hold out for at least a few more weeks. That’s my bad, I didn’t know you were just a cock-hungry slut.” His tone was scornful and mocking. Your nose burned with the urge to cry.

“It’s not like that, Joel— Please don’t fire me, I really need this job.” You could feel the ugly sobs climbing up your throat.

“I’m not gonna fire you, sweetheart. You gotta work off that cash I lost in the bet.” His knuckles came up to gently rub your cheek, smearing the tears you had shed into your skin.

“How— How much is it?”

“Don’t you worry about that. You’ve just got to start taking on some extra chores around here…” Joel put away the first-aid kit and returned with a plain, wooden box.

He grasped your knees and spread them, exposing your large pussy lips— full and swollen— and your clit pushing out towards him as if begging for him to rub it. He groaned at the sight, the hair covering your mound was dewy, your folds still damp, the inside of your thighs still coated with your sticky juices. He guided your heels to rest on the edge of the table, further pushing your knees apart to expose the entirety of you— down to that winking rosette much lower where the cum Logan had smeared was slightly drying.

“Joel, what—” He softly shushed you, folding your skirt so it bunched around your waist.

“No need to worry about the job. I fully intend to keep you. See, sweetheart”—Joel brought his hand to your exposed sex, grazing a knuckle over your clit before squeezing your puffy labia between his thumb and his finger, giving it gentle tugs and shakes—“You’re going to give me whatever I want, whenever I want it.” Logan’s cum oozed out as your pussy clenched and contracted at Joel’s words.

Joel’s eyes were blown wide with lust as he opened the mysterious box beside you, “But first… Logan won the bet, didn’t he? So we should give him his prize.” Inside the box were seven beautiful wooden butt plugs, smooth and shiny with a flared base. They had different shapes and sizes, one of them was even long and straight like a dildo. Joel reached for the smallest one, and your thighs quivered with anticipation.

Logan’s promise echoed in your ears, “Gonna be in this fuckhole next, Darling.” You gasped with the realisation that Joel was prepping your ass for Logan to fuck. Maybe he read your shivering and gasp as fear because Joel gently caressed your hips like he would soothe a spooked animal.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, we’ll see to it that you like it when we touch you… But that’s not going to be so hard for a slut like you, huh? Look at you, you’re dripping from just my words.”

Joel rolled the plug at your opening, lubing it with your own release mixed with Logan’s cum before he pressed it into your asshole. The intrusion was shocking and far too foreign, almost too overwhelming as your back landed on the table under you with a thud. But the knot of tension in your body tightened, a blazing flame of pleasure licked at the base of your spine as Joel started rotating the plug in and out of you— stretching and spreading the ring of your ass wider.

“This is the prettiest fucking sight, sweetheart. Wish you could see it— maybe I’ll spread you open in front of a camera someday… Decided to make these plugs the day you interviewed for the job, took one look at that ass of yours and knew it would look so fucking cute plugged for me… Logan personally chose the wood for it too, it’s pear wood… beautifully compliments your skin.” His words gave you butterflies in your belly, and your heart skipped a beat. This is so romantic.

Joel stooped down, his nose nudging at the crease where your thigh meets your pelvis and he took a deep sniff before licking at the dried slick on the inside of your thigh. He rolled his tongue in his mouth, savouring the taste. Uncaring that he was about to eat another man’s spunk from your cunt, he turned to your aching pussy, licking a strong, stroke up the slit and to your sensitive clit where he circled it with his tongue before closing his lips over the little bud to suckle.

You gasped his name, your hands reaching to tangle in his hair and tugging him closer to your desperate cunt. He groaned into your pussy, the vibrations travelling straight up your clit. His tongue was devastatingly accurate against your folds as it tasted and licked until you were trembling under the hold he had on your hips, his other hand still working the plug in your bottom.

Your body tightened and arched, your muscles waiting for the release that was just at its precipice. And then you felt it— Joel, gently nibbling on your clit. Your orgasm set off like a firecracker, your entire body shook as all your muscles contracted and released. You shoved your pelvis deeper into Joel, rocking your hips over his face to ride out your orgasm.

Joel’s mouth was still attached to your warm pussy even after you had come down from the high of your orgasm. His hand came around your thigh to pat and stroke through the pubic hair that covered your sex— gently playing with the hair while he cleaned you up with his tongue. He whispered sweet words into your pussy, his nose affectionately nuzzling your clit while he just enjoyed the taste of you, the smell of you on his face.

“Such a pretty pussy. You’re perfect, sweetheart.”

“You’re going to make me so happy…” He whispers as he stands from his seat to look at you. You feel downright sinful and wanton. Your hair wild, gaze half-lidded as you stared up at him with naked want. Your legs were spread wide open in invitation, your well-used, glistening cunt open and displayed for him. Maybe you should feel ashamed, you just had another man’s dick in you not even an hour ago. But the constant arousal and orgasms had you worn out and slumped in delicious replete.

“This is how I always want you from now on, open and ready for me whenever my cock gets hard.” He ordered as he lowered his jeans and underwear to release his cock. Your mouth watered at the sight of him— long and thick, the head slightly red and weeping at the tip. You hadn’t seen Logan’s dick, but you could tell that Joel was just barely shorter in length; whatever he lacked in length he more than made up in girth. This time, you truly wondered how you would fit him inside you, especially now that you also had a plug up your butt.

But Joel sank deep in you with one easy stroke; Logan’s seed from earlier was still coating the inside of your walls along with your own arousal, Joel met no resistance except for the plug in your ass that rubbed against the bottom of his cock. You felt impossibly stuffed and full, and he waited for the shock and surprise to ease from your eyes even when your back had arched into the pleasure.

“That’s it… my pretty little cocksleeve. Just a minute, then I’ll make it all better.” He appeased.

He slowly started pistoning his cock into you, and a rush of wetness seeped out to flood where the both of you were joined. Joel gave a savage little laugh as he cupped the base of your skull in a forceful and possessive hold while ripping your t-shit and bra up to reveal your tits.

“You want this, sweetheart, don’t you? You need this. Filthy fucking slut”—he was growling into your face—“You need your old boss to fuck you even after you had another man’s cock deep up your cunt. What happened, huh? Sweetheart? Did Logan not make you cum?”

“No, he did—” you mewled.

“Oh. So his dick just wasn’t enough for you, was it? You just needed more cock, anybody would do—”

“No, no, no, Joel. You, just you—”

“Yeah? Didn’t realise I was paying such a greedy fucking slut. You should be glad I didn’t know about the absolute honey pot you had between your legs— would’ve broken you in a long fucking time ago.”

Joel guided your head so you could see his dick surging in and out of your hole, a ring of foamy, white cream forming at the base of his cock.

“See? That is one good pussy— trying to suck me dry.”—The walls of your pussy clenched around him at the sight, Joel broke off his words with a biting curse—“You’re doing so great, baby girl. Such a good whore, taking care of my cock. So fucking good for me.”

You preened under his praise, raising your pelvis to meet his thrusts. And you quickly lost the ability to speak. His balls hit against the flared base of the butt plug, jostling it inside you so both the plug and his dick rubbed at some elusive spot on the thin barrier that separated the two.

“You’ve wanted this for a while now haven’t you? Wearin’ all those skimpy outfits to work, bending over to show me your fucking panties all day. This little pussy just needed some cock, huh?”

His head came down directly at level with your swaying tits, and Joel took advantage of that to catch one in his mouth. He sucked, licked and nipped at your erect nipples causing a feeling so intense— like a lightning bolt— that you started fighting against the pleasure by twisting and contorting under him. Joel leaned down to throw his weight on you, stilling your struggle under him. His hand came up to hold you by the throat.

His hand didn’t tighten or grip your throat to choke you, he just held it there letting you feel the weight, warmth and power. The touch was almost grounding and comforting as you could feel the wild beat of your pulse steadily pumping against his hands.

“Don’t struggle. You gotta get used to this, sweetheart. This is your daily chore from now on… Making sure Logan and I get our cocks wet. It’s a good thing you’re so insatiable, won’t have any problem milking out every drop of our cum every day like a cum dumpster.”

The very idea had you writhing, Joel could feel your pussy getting wetter, fluttering and clenching over his cock in a vice. Sticky, syrupy sounds get louder in the workshop.

“Oh, you like that, dirty girl? Us taking turns with you? Taking you together? Sharing you like our personal fuck toy…”

You miss the rest of his words, your mind already having slipped into a trance-like state, the noises around you receding into a dull buzz, your eyes seeing yet unseeing. You had been reduced to nothing more than a pulsating, throbbing ball of aching need and nerves. The scratch of his shirt on your nipples was overwhelming, so was his pubic hair rubbing over your clit, and the plug was still being pushed into your butt. Tears escaped your eyes.

Joel looked concerned for a moment, his pace stuttering as he considered slowing down, you couldn’t hear the soothing questions he was asking you. But you let out a loud keening, wail— wordless but the sound was a needy, desperate plea for him to never stop, to do whatever he wanted to you so you could feel this way forever. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him impossibly deeper into your cunt— tightening your hold so he could never escape.

Joel gave a smug, triumphant grin over you before he leaned down to kiss your lips. Contrary to his words, and how he was fucking you, his kiss was utterly sweet, tender and affectionate. He kissed you hesitantly and tentatively like a new lover who had yet to figure out how you liked to be kissed. He maintained a gentle hold of your throat, and his other hand came up to pet your head lovingly— his calloused thumb reaching to wipe the tears escaping from the side of your eyes.

You could barely make out what he was saying, “That’s it, sweetheart. You ready to let go for me? Give me what’s mine…”

Joel reached between you to pinch your clit, but the slightest graze set you off. Your nipples tightened, clit hummed and your body buzzed as the walls of your cunt gripped onto his cock trying to milk him while your ass clenched on the plug. You leveraged the last of your strength to arch your hips pushing the plug right into that spot you had discovered earlier that could throw you off the edge and keep you suspended there. Joel’s fingers gripped the side of your throat, making it all the more difficult to breathe.

You shattered. Hard. Your body gripping and convulsing as you sprayed out your release all over Joel’s cock— wetting his jeans, the table under you, the chair behind him, until the clear, viscous fluid was dripping from the table and forming a pool around his feet. Your own scream sounded distant to your ears, but they could probably be heard out on the street. Joel followed, slumping over you with a grunt, shooting out thick ropes of hot cum that washed your womb with his seed.

You laid there relishing his weight on you, playing with the hair at his nape while he pressed reverent kisses into every patch of exposed skin he could reach. He pushed himself on his elbows, gingerly pulling out of you and made his way to the bathroom with unsteady, wobbling legs. You wanted to throw his comment back about walking like a newborn foal, but you didn’t want to bother with words just yet when you were still regretting the loss of his body on yours.

He returned with a bottle of lube and a wet washcloth, softly dabbing away your tear streaks and drool then moving down to clean your thighs and pussy. His ministrations were thorough and gentle, careful not to rub your already raw skin. You moaned a protest against pulling the plug out until he questioningly showed you the next size.

“You think you can take more, princess?”

You spread your legs wider for him as he eased out the small plug, wiping your gaping hole with the washcloth. He coated the bigger one with lube before pressing it into your ass, playing with the flared handle to rotate and tweak it until it was firmly lodged inside.

He leaned over you again, carefully slipping a hand under your boneless body, and another under your head before picking you up like a child, your legs wrapped around his waist again as he took a seat in the chair.

Your nose nuzzled into the crook of his neck breathing in his scent of sawdust and wood veneer. He held you like that, cuddled into him while his rough, warm hands stroked along your spine and he peppered kisses into your neck and shoulders. You slipped your own hands under his shirt, feeling the broad expanse of his skin and playing with the wispy hair that lead into his cock… Now you knew that his trail had the same silvery greys as his curls and patchy beard.

You didn’t know how many hours had gone by with you between Joel’s legs, your fingers draped over his thighs and his cock stuffed down your throat. He sunk further in his seat to man spread, giving you a flash of the hole you had licked for him earlier. Joel was nursing a chilled beer while he toggled with the remote of the small vibrator he had taped to your clit turning it up so the gentle buzzing filled the air.

You sucked your cheeks in, pulling his hard length further into your mouth and he put gentle pressure on your scalp to guide you until the short springy hair tickled your nose. You squirmed under his hold partly because it was too tight for you to escape and partly for some desperately needed friction between your legs.

Joel rewarded you by setting his beer aside to bring his cold hand to palm at your tits— the cold sensation against your heated skin finally sending you into another twitching, whimpering orgasm. You stopped counting them after they all started to roll into one constant state of tingling currents.

“Jesus Christ, bub. Look at the state of her. You can’t work her so hard just because you’re jealous I got to her first.” Logan!

“‘S not so bad. You’re just in time, we were waiting for you. I think our greedy slut has a few more orgasms left in her for the night. Don’t you, princess?”

You were far too gone to formulate a response. Joel rapidly tapped a few strong pats across your cheek to break you out of your haze of pleasure.

“Hey.” He smiled down at you with his dimple on display. He affectionately wiped your chin with his thumb. And your heart warmed at the tender but fruitless gesture. You had made a complete mess of yourself as you drooled out the mix of his spit and cum, slobbering all over yourself until the sticky, creamy, juices hung from your chin and your nipples before stringing down to meet your own release pooling between your legs. You mustered a silly smile for him despite the cock in your mouth.

“Logan’s here baby, you want to take both of us at the same time?” He still had a commanding hold over your neck and you couldn’t pull away to answer him. So you gave him an enthusiastic nod, bobbing his cock along with your head.

“Good girl…” You perked up at the praise.

His foot nudged the side of your ass, “Why don’t you show him how hard you’ve worked, sweetheart?”

You obediently raised your hips, arching your waist and sticking your ass out to lewdly shake and wiggle it in the air behind you to show Logan the biggest-sized plug nestled between your ass cheeks— stretching your fuckhole out for him.

carpenter!joel miller x lumberjack!logan howlett

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #x men #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #hugh jackman #pedro pascal characters #tlou #smut

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romerona · 2 days ago

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The Cook and The Teacher!

Let's pretend The Bear and Abbot Elementary are in the same city.

The meeting of Carmen (Carmy) Berzatto x Abbot Teacher Femreader! Sunshinereader!

Headcanons.

The day had been long, and Carmy was just trying to keep it together. He’d left The Bear earlier than usual—if you could call "earlier" 9 p.m.—and was heading upstairs to his apartment with a bag of takeout that was far less exciting than anything he cooked in the kitchen. His mind was still buzzing with half-finished ideas for new recipes and the stress of balancing the books. It wasn’t until he rounded the corner in the hallway that he saw you.

You were crouched on the floor outside the apartment next to his, wrestling with a particularly heavy box. A burst of bright, patterned fabric caught his eye—it was your socks. Your jeans were rolled up messily, revealing mismatched socks peeking out of your sneakers, and a stubborn strand of hair that kept falling to your face. You didn’t seem to notice him at first, too focused on trying to angle the box through the doorway.

“Uh, you need a hand?” Carmy asked, his voice quiet and even, as if he wasn’t entirely sure you’d hear him.

You startled slightly, looking up at him with wide eyes. A man—tall, with a mop of messy blond hair, tired blue eyes, and a hoodie that had definitely seen better days—stood a few steps away. He looked a little rough around the edges, like he’d just stepped out of a 12-hour shift. And, unbeknownst to you, he had.

For a moment, you seemed unsure whether to accept, but then you huffed, brushing your hair out of your face. “Honestly? Yes. Please. I think this box is plotting my downfall.”

Carmy set his takeout on the floor and stepped over. He crouched down beside you, studying the situation. “What’s in here? Bricks?”

You laughed, the sound warm and full, and it caught him off guard. “Close enough—books. I hoard them like a dragon.”

He smirked faintly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. Without another word, he lifted the box with relative ease, surprising you with how quickly he maneuvered it through your doorway. “Where do you want it?”

“Anywhere that’s not the hallway,” you said with a grin, stepping aside to let him pass. “But if you want to put it by the window, I won’t stop you.”

Carmy carried the box to the corner you pointed to, but as he turned back, his eyes lingered on you longer than he intended. Standing amidst the chaos of your half-unpacked apartment, you looked effortlessly natural—strands of hair falling loose, a faint smile on your lips, and a light, easy confidence that made the mess around you seem insignificant. The light caught your cheekbone, highlighting your warm, colorful presence, a stark contrast to the muted tones he was used to. The room was already full of little glimpses of your personality—colorful throw pillows piled on a couch, a small vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill, and a stack of what looked like hand-painted signs propped against the wall.

“Thanks for that,” you said, breaking his train of thought. “I owe you one.”

Carmy couldn’t help but think how effortlessly pretty you were, though he kept the thought to himself, letting it settle quietly in the back of his mind.

He shrugged, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You just saved me from throwing my back out. That’s definitely worth at least a plate of cookies or something.”

Carmy opened his mouth to respond, but you kept going, your energy bright and fast-paced. “Wait—are you my neighbor? Please tell me you’re not just some random guy who walked by and felt bad for me.”

“Uh, yeah,” Carmy said, scratching the back of his neck. “I live next door.”

Your face lit up. “Oh, good. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you...?”

“Carmen,” he said. “Carmy.”

“Carmy,” you repeated, testing it out. “Alright, Carmy-next-door. Thanks for the rescue.”

He nodded awkwardly, his social skills feeling a little rusty. “Yeah. No problem.”

-----

Carmy was just about to head out for his usual coffee run before work when the knock came at his door. He hesitated for a moment, not used to anyone knocking on his door—especially not at this hour. He opened it cautiously, and there you were, standing on the other side, holding a plate covered in plastic wrap.

“Hey!” you said brightly, flashing him the kind of smile that felt a little too sunny for such an early hour. You hold the plate out toward him. "These are for you. My way of saying thanks for saving me from a very undignified fate yesterday.”

“You weren’t kidding,” he said, glancing down at the plate.

“Never joke about cookies,” you said solemnly, holding them out to him.

Carmy hesitated for a moment before taking the plate, his fingers brushing yours briefly.

“Uh thanks,” he said simply, his tone soft but sincere.

You tilted your head, your smile softening into something a little teasing. “That’s it? ‘Uh, thanks’? No ‘wow, these look amazing,’ or ‘you didn’t have to, Y/N, you’re too kind’?”

A chuckle escaped him before he could stop it, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small, genuine smile. “Alright, fine. Wow, these look amazing. And you didn’t have to.”

“Much better,” you said, nodding approvingly. “I knew you had it in you, Carmy-next-door.”

“Carmy-next-door?” he repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You didn’t tell me your last name, so I had to come up with something. If you’d prefer something fancier, we could workshop it.”

He shook his head, amused. “Carmy-next-door’s fine.”

There was a brief pause, and Carmy shifted slightly, unsure of what to do next. Social interactions outside of a kitchen weren’t exactly his strong suit, but something about the way you stood there, so at ease, made him want to keep talking. “Peanut butter?”

“Yep. I hope you’re not allergic or I might feel terrible for accidentally murdering my new neighbor.”

“No allergies,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “They look... good.”

“They taste better,” you replied confidently, rocking back on your heels. “You’ll see.”

Carmy stared at the plate in his hands for a moment, then back at you. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of you yet—this whirlwind of color and brightness that seemed to completely contrast his muted world.

“You uh-bake a lot?” he asked, his voice quieter now, curious despite himself.

You laughed, and the sound made something in his chest loosen. “Not really. I’m more of a ‘wing it and hope for the best’ kind of baker. Which, coincidentally, is also my teaching style.”

That caught his attention. “Teaching?”

“Yep. Fourth grade at Abbott Elementary,” you said, a note of pride in your voice. “You ever try to teach ten-year-olds about fractions? It’s like trying to train cute little squirrels to sit still.”

Carmy huffed another laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Can’t say I have.”

“You’re lucky,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest. “Anyway, I should let you get back to... whatever it is you were doing. But enjoy the cookies. They’re my signature recipe.”

“Signature?” Carmy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” you said with a playful smirk. “Passed down from the great culinary masterminds of my family. By which I mean, I Googled it five years ago and have been winging it ever since."

Carmy let out a quiet laugh, glancing back toward his apartment. For a moment, he considered inviting you in, but the idea of it felt… too sudden. Too much. Instead, he took a step back toward the door, holding up the plate as a gesture of gratitude. “I’ll let you know how they are.”

“Oh, it will,” you said confidently, already backing toward your apartment. “See you around, Carmy-next-door.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, watching as you disappeared back into your apartment, leaving him standing in the doorway with a plate of cookies in his hands and a strange sense of warmth in his chest.

-------

The plate of cookies sat on Carmy’s desk in the cluttered back office at The Bear, their presence almost mocking him. He’d brought them along in the rush of the morning, figuring he might as well snack on them during the chaos of his day. But, as usual, the day had taken over—prep work, managing the team, putting out fires both literal and figurative—and by the time he finally sat down, the cookies were still untouched.

Richie, after coming into his office asking about the butter delivery for tomorrow, noticed the cookies on the table.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, pointing to the plate with an incredulous look. “Since when do you bake cookies?”

Carmy looked up from his paperwork, deadpan.“They’re from my neighbor. She brought them over as a thank-you for helping her move a box.”

Richie snorted, picking one up without waiting for permission. “Your neighbor? What is this, a fucking Hallmark movie?”

“Can you just eat the cookie and shut up?” Carmy said, though his tone was more resigned than annoyed, as he leaned back into his chair.

Richie took a dramatic bite, his eyebrows raising in exaggerated surprise. “Damn. These are actually good. Who’s this neighbor of yours? She running a bakery or something?”

“No,” Carmy said, shaking his head. “She’s a teacher.”

Richie blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “A teacher who bakes like this? That's a keeper. Because these cookies are better than anything Marcus has cranked out lately.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Carmy muttered, grabbing a cookie for himself.

They were soft, perfectly sweetened, with just the right amount of salt to balance the flavor. He wasn’t expecting much when you’d handed him the plate earlier, but now... now he understood why you’d been so confident.

He finished the cookie quickly, his mind already drifting to thoughts of you. He could picture the way you’d smiled when you handed him the plate, the playful glint in your eyes when you teased him. He wasn’t used to people being so... warm. So open. It felt unfamiliar, but not in a bad way.

Richie leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “Seriously, though, what’s the deal? She single? Maybe I should swing by, introduce myself. Could use some homemade cookies in my life.”

Carmy shot him a warning look, though his tone remained light. "Just get out of here, Richie,"

Richie chuckled, grabbing another cookie as he walked out. “Hey, if she makes more of these, tell her I’ll marry her. Hell, I’ll even carry her boxes next time.”

Carmy shook his head, staring at the now half-empty plate of cookies. For a moment, he considered texting you to tell you how good they were, but he didn’t have your number. Instead, he made a mental note to return the favor—something different than cookies.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he cared so much, but as he reached for one last cookie, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

-----

It had been two days since you’d dropped off the plate of cookies as a thank-you for Carmy helping you with your move. You didn’t expect much in return—maybe just a polite nod in the hallway or, at most, an offhanded “thanks.” That was the kind of vibe you got from Carmy: quiet, reserved, polite but not overly forthcoming or social.

So, when there was a knock at your door that evening, you weren’t expecting to find him standing there, holding a small brown takeout box.

“Carmy-next-door,” you said, your voice warm and teasing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, as his eyes flicked between her face and the container in his hands. “Uh, thought I’d return the favor."

Your eyes flicked to the container, and you tilted your head curiously. “Return the favor?”

"For the cookies.”

You blinked, glancing down at the box in his hands. It wasn’t your typical store-bought takeout container—this one looked nicer, almost custom-made. You tilted your head slightly, curious. “What’s this?”

“Just something I made,” he said, shrugging one shoulder like it was no big deal. “Nothing fancy.”

You smiled, reaching out to take the box from him. “Wait, so you’re telling me you cook? Like, professionally?”

Carmy hesitated for a moment, clearly debating how much to say. “Yeah. I’m a chef.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Like... a real chef? Not just someone who’s really good at making grilled cheese?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. A real chef. But I do make a mean grilled cheese.”

“Well, color me impressed,” you laugh, holding up the box like it was a prized treasure. “What’s in here? Or is it a secret?”

“Braised short ribs,” he said, shifting his weight slightly. “With some potato puree and roasted vegetables. It’s... leftovers from a test recipe.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned. “You're giving me that as a thank-you for cookies?”

He shrugged again, his gaze flicking away. “Figured it was better than just saying ‘thanks.’"

You laughed softly, closing the door slightly to keep the box warm as you leaned against the doorframe. “Well, now I feel like I need to bake you an entire cake or something. Cookies don’t seem like enough anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “You didn’t have to bring me anything in the first place.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have discovered that my new neighbor is secretly a culinary genius,” you teased, watching as his cheeks seemed to tint just slightly pink.

“Not a genius,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just... a chef.”

“Well, Chef Carmy, you’ve officially raised the bar for neighborly exchanges,” you said, grinning.

A small, almost shy smile tugged at his lips. “Just enjoy it.”

She studied him for a beat longer, the way he seemed both completely comfortable and slightly out of place at the same time. “Well, thanks, Carmy. I’ll let you know what I think.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding slightly. “You do that.”

Carmy turned to leave, but before he reached his apartment, you called after him, your voice light and teasing.

"Hey, Carmy-next-door!"

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder, a curious expression on his face.

"Is this some kind of competition now? Because if it is, my next thank-you might have to involve actual fireworks."

He gave a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that widened your smile. "It's not."

You laughed, the sound brightening the hallway. "Well, it is now," you declared, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I’m not going down without a fight."

"Looking forward to it," he murmured, shaking his head, his smile lingering as he turned and disappeared into his apartment

You stood in the doorway for a moment, still holding the box, a warm feeling spreading through you. There was something about him—quiet but deeply thoughtful—that made you feel like you’d just scratched the surface of who he really was.

You carried the box into your kitchen, setting it carefully on the counter. The smell alone was enough to make your mouth water, but you didn’t open it right away. Instead, you poured yourself a glass of wine and took a seat, savoring the anticipation. And as you finally took your first bite, you couldn’t help but think: maybe moving into this building was the best decision you’d made in a long time.

Hope you enjoy it!!!! <3

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #reader-insert #reader insert #the bear #abbott elementary #abbott elementary x reader

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psychoticallykind · 3 days ago

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Purple Ink

"Purple" - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 536 words

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

"Hey, love!" James greeted him cheerfully, closing the front door. "How'd your exam go? Did you get my note?"

Regulus nodded, exhausted and very much ready to curl up with James and not think of the rest of the world ever again. "It went well, I got a perfect score."

"I knew it!" James cheered. He moved to sit down next to Regulus, pulling him into a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah, okay," Regulus mumbled, cheeks burning. "It wasn't that hard."

"You're brilliant," James adamantly replied. "Did you get my note?"

Regulus shrugged. "Yeah."

There was a second of silence.

James shifted. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

Regulus huffed, turning and burying his face against James's sweater as he spoke. "You made me cry again."

"I - I made you cry?" James sounded horrified. He tried to urge Regulus back, but Regulus stubbornly stayed right where he was. "I'm so sorry. I didn't - I didn't realize -"

"James," Regulus interrupted. "No. Stop that."

"But I made you cry," James protested.

Regulus nodded. "Yes, you did." He sighed, wrapping his arms around James's neck. "You made me cry. You and your stupid breakfast that you made me and your stupid notes and that stupid purple ink - why are the notes always in purple ink? Why don't you use black like a civilized person?"

"Uh," James sounded a little confused. "Because every time I write with purple ink you smile, and I like it when you smile?"

"That's a dumb reason," Regulus replied. "Dumb. It's a dumb reason, with dumb purple ink, and dumb notes that make me cry because it's too sweet, James, you are too sweet all the time, you are too nice to me."

James rubbed his back. "Do you want me to stop leaving you notes?"

Regulus did pull back then, giving James an affronted look. "If you ever do, I'll probably cry."

James met his eyes with a small smile. "Darling, I need you to be a little bit more clear. The notes make you cry happy tears? Is that what you're saying?"

Regulus shrugged. "I guess."

"Regulus."

Regulus hid against his sweater again. "I was having a bad morning, and I woke up late, and I was rushing. And then I didn't have to rush because you cleaned all of my school stuff up last night and put it in my bag, and you made me breakfast, and you bought coffee, and you left me a purple note with all of this nice, calming stuff about how you love me and I was going to do great and it made me cry but it also made my whole day better."

Regulus left out the part where he came home and put the note in the secret box. The box filled with notes written in purple ink.

James didn't know about that box.

"You've made my entire life better," James told him. "So I'm glad I could help a little."

"Idiot," Regulus grumbled. He cuddled closer. "I love you."

James laughed, and it made Regulus smile. "I love you, too, Regulus. I'll make sure to keep leaving purple notes."

Regulus nodded, pleased and exhausted and very much in love.

#jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jeggyverse microfic #jegulus microfic #marauders

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the-witty-pen-name · 20 hours ago

Text

The Love Triangle from Hell (2)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: After the events of PART ONE, Robin goes shoe shopping; Steve's mental health is in shambles; Nancy is trying to save her relationship; you're feeling lost; and Eddie is trying to be the bigger person.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: Thank you all so so much for all the love you have been showing to part one. You all had me so motivated to write this next part for you. I never manage to get things written this quickly, it's insane. So much appreciation to you all who took the time to read and let me know how you liked it- the comments and reblogs mean so much to me! Thank you!

Please let know who you think our girl should end up with ;)

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

You didn’t ever think about a future in which you didn’t feel the way you felt about Steve. It was something that you always viewed as this absolute truth. It was unavoidable. The sun would rise and fall and you would love Steve Harrington. But now, the world feels like it’s crashed, burned and raised from the ashes. A new reality- a new future to be written. Maybe, just maybe, you would see a future for yourself without Steve. It was such a simple thought- but you couldn’t have seen it before.

While you’re coming to terms with your new reality that Eddie tore open with both hands, Steve feels the weight of the crash all around him. It’s everywhere, more specifically, you’re everywhere. He felt like he’s lost everything. In her reconciliation with Jonathan, Nancy pulled Steve aside that night and said she thought it best if they don’t hang out for awhile. He nodded, jaw tightened, but he understood.

Eddie isn’t not talking to him, but there’s awkward tension in the apartment. They both pretend that it isn’t there but the air is thick with it. The proverbial beans have been spillt. Eddie’s in love with you, and Steve shouldn’t care about it as much as he does. Eddie goes about his days padding around the house. He’ll strum guitar and clean the kitchen and go on like nothing happened. Steve’s been avoiding him, not knowing at all what to say. There isn’t anything to say- not really. But still, the walls between them are undeniably there.

Robin is all Steve has to confide in right now, telling her all about how he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past few weeks since the night of what they’ve been calling “the incident.” He tells her everything- his confusion in his feelings towards you, the way he misses his friendship with Nancy, his irrational harbouring resentment toward Eddie. He tells her all of it. She listens and doesn’t judge- well, maybe she does judge. But, it’s coming from a place of love!

“What do you think?” she asks, stomping around in circles. She looks down at the new Adidas on her feet, thinking about how dirty the white sneakers are going to get almost immediately. Steve is sitting on the little bench in the shoe store with his head in his hands. “I hate them,” she complains, “I hate new shoes. I hate buying jeans. It all sucks.”

Like a parent would, Steve leans down and presses his fingertips down on the toe of the shoe. “These are too small,” he points out. He turns to the box at his side, handing her the next size up. “These will probably feel better.” She snatches the show from his hand, kicking off the pair she’s wearing.

“Fucking Munson,” she scoffs. “New fucking shoes,” she mutters, bending over to slide the next pair on. Steve smirks to himself when he sees the relief wash over Robin’s face. It’s the undeniable look of pure comfort. “Oh,” she says shyly, “these feel really nice.”

“What am I gonna do?” he asks, disheartened looking up at Robin. She sighs, pushing the empty box next to him on the floor so she can take its place.

“What do you want?” she asks, “Do you actually like her?”

“I might,” he admits, “I don’t know! I haven’t thought about her that way before. I could see it, maybe.”

“I don’t think you should do anything,” Robin advises, “Just sort out all the shit in your head. You are only just beginning to let yourself get over Nancy- jumping into a mess between your best friends is not the thing to do right now. Sort yourself out- get some Vitamin D, eat a vegetable- do something besides sit in your room and sulk.”

“I’m here now,” he tries to argue and Robin scoffs.

“You’re here cause you ran out of excuses when you kept cancelling on me,” Robin points out. She looks at her feet one more time. She then looks to Steve with a look of absolute utter defeat. “I think I’m gonna get these.” She gets up and kicks them off. Steve watches as she puts them back in the box. “I’m not gonna wear them around Eddie though,” she says with a scoff, heading towards the register like she got the one up on him.

Eddie remembers the first time he saw you. He’d been reflecting back on it a lot the past few weeks after everything that has happened. He’s having trouble wrapping his head around how he got from there to here. What was a innocent high school crush has blossomed into such an intense love that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The feeling is almost too big for him to carry- which is probably the reason for his outburst that night.

It has been Eddie’s junior year, making it your sophomore year. You’d been in the drama club and occasionally rehearsal would run late- meaning Hellfire would start late since they used the Theater room as well. Usually, Drama Club rehearsed Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday- making the room available for Hellfire on Friday. However, as productions got closer to the opening night, theater kids and band geeks would end up flocking to the room for Hell Week- extra rehearsals, last minute set adjustments, all running out the clock to the big night. It would run into Fridays, pushing Hellfire back despite Eddie reserving the room. The one thing he actually did to follow the rules.

You felt ridiculous in your costume. Your Juliet dress had you sticking out when you weren’t in the midst of the sets and reciting your lines. The long fabrics of the Renaissance inspired costume followed behind you as you darted from one side of the school to the other. You needed last minute fixes to the hem of your dress and the veil of your head crown. You only a few minutes before you were expected at rehearsal, left with no choice to run from the home ec classroom to the theater.

Eddie and the rest of Hellfire stood begrudgingly behind the stage, too stubborn to find another location for their meeting. He swears that you ran by him in slow motion to make your cue. Like a runaway bride from his fantasy novels, it was like you were plucked from one of his fantasies and graced his world with your presence. He was enamored. You looked exactly like a princess. He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Gareth had elbowed him to snap him out of it. He knew from that moment when he looks back, he was in love with you. He rubbed his ribs where he was struck and stayed hidden backstage to watch the whole performance.

Steve can’t even remember the first time you met. You were something that was always there, and something he’s realized now that he’s taken for granted. You remember, you remember it all. It was still so vivid to you. It was a start to your everything.

Kindergarten was an overwhelming experience for Steve. Specifically drop-off, but he doesn’t remember now. You remember waiting with your mom and you held her hand tightly, while you waited for your teacher to escort you and your new classmates into school. You noticed Steve, across the play yard, but your head tilted in confusion that he was without a grown-up to send him off.

You immediately shook yourself free from your moms embrace and skipped confidently over to the little boy.

“Do you wanna be best friends?” You asked abruptly, it was all you needed. The simplicity of making friends when your six is a beautiful thing. He nodded, and you took his hand in yours so he didn’t walk in alone. The two of you were inseparable ever since. Until high school rolled around and changed everything.

The Steve you knew was different than the Steve that ruled the halls of Hawkins High back in the day. When it was the two of you, it was like how it always was. But at school, it was like he was an entirely new person. Reinvented and repackaged, King Steve’s reign was legend. Had it not killed you a little inside, you’d have been impressed.

Nancy offered to get lunch together with you shortly after the incident. She valued your friendship and wanted to clear the air. You felt the same. Your feelings towards Steve never hindered how highly you thought of Nancy. The two of you became friends amidst the era of King Steve, shortly before they began dating.

“I wanted you to know that had I known,” Nancy says, stirring the milk in her coffee, “I would have never went out with Steve.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Nance,” you reassure her. “You liked him and he liked you back, of course you guys should have dated. I don’t resent that- I just… I don’t know.”

“I don’t want this to affect us,” she reiterates.

“It won’t, it hasn’t- honestly,” you reply sincerely. “I never hated you. I can’t lie and say I wasn’t very jealous- because I was, still am a little maybe. It wasn’t because of you- it was just because it wasn’t me.”

“I understand,” she comforts you. You both share a smile and you appreciate her for coordinating this sit down. It felt good to confide in her. It was something you shouldn’t have bottled up and dealt with alone. Talking with Nancy felt like taking breaths of fresh air.

You’d walked home after lunch, declining Nancy’s offer for a ride. The cafe was close enough to your and Robin’s apartment that you could manage without getting too cold. Trudging up the front steps, you had your hood up to keep yourself warmer. It also hindered your vision so you didn’t see the figure on the front porch swing until you were right at your front door.

“Steve?” You ask, taken aback. You didn’t expect to see him- though you supposed he’d be wanting to talk about it all eventually. You sigh, bracing yourself for the one conversation you absolutely did not want to have.

“Hey,” he shivers, keeping his hands bunched into his jacket plackets.

“Come on up,” you offer, unlocking your front door. He graciously accepts, darting in out of the cold as fast as possible. He had to have been waiting awhile. “Robin is at work right now, but you can wait for her,” you say, as you both make it to the top of the stairs to your third floor apartment.

“I came to see you, actually,” he admits.

“I was afraid of that,” you joke, and it makes you a little happy when he chuckles. You both know how hard this conversation is going to be.

You both shrug off your warm layers and leave them in the entry way. You kick off your boots and shove your hat and gloves into the sleeve of your jacket. You try your best to tame your hair. You walk with your arms crossed and take a seat on your couch. Steve tentatively follows and sits on the opposite end. You both sit in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages.

“How long?” He finally asks, and you can’t help but cringe. It felt so impersonal, and like a subtle attack. Like you were in the wrong for keeping something from him. He sounds hurt.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, your face in your hands. “Probably at least since we were in like second grade, maybe.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he questions, and you feel dejected.

“I don’t know- maybe cause you dated someone new constantly,” you accuse, flipping it back to him. You weren’t going to take the blame for this. “When we got to high school, you pursued so many girls- you were on a date every weekend! When did you expect me to say when you showed interest in literally everyone but me? Do you expect me to say I should’ve said something when you were with Nancy?”

“No… shit, I don’t know,” he mumbles. He had no right to be upset, you resolved. “I just, I feel bad that you didn’t think you could tell me.”

“I couldn’t risk losing you,” you admitted. “I’d much rather be heartbroken with you in my life than heartbroken without you.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he’s not sure why he’s suddenly so quiet. “I just- fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

You both sit there, quietly, looking anywhere except each other. You bite the inside of your mouth nervously, you don’t know what to say. You notice he’s not saying I was so stupid. I love you, I always have. You’ve learned the hard way by now to not expect that from him. You can’t let your expectations of him dictate the future of your friendship.

“It’s okay, you know,” you finally say across the silence. “I don’t want you to think this changes anything.”

This changes everything! He wants to exclaim. You’re right there, closer than you’ve been in weeks. Yet you still feel so far away, so unattainable. He feels as though you’re treating him like a stranger, and he hates feeling like this.

“I’m not in love with Nancy,” he confesses. “I thought it was what I wanted, but now I don’t know what I want.”

“Don’t give me false hope to make me feel better, Steve,” you sigh. “That’s not fair.”

Robin bursts through the door in a whirlwind of chaos. She’s shedding her layers as she recounts a terrible interaction she had with a customer at work. She kicks off her Adidas, not bothering to put them in the shoe rack and she lets her jacket lay on the floor for now.

“Anyways, this guy starts yelling at me because he didn’t like Risky Business like I wrote and starred in the damn thing so I’m like ‘Sir, I didn’t make the movie’ and then he gets he gets even more pissed that won’t give him a free rental. I can’t do that! What makes him think I can just wave a magic wand a pull a perk like that out of my- oh fuck. H-hey Steve…. I didn’t know you were here.”

He stands up abruptly, “I was just leaving.” Before either you or Robin have a chance to say anything else. He’s stumbling over putting on his shoes and falling into his jacket on the his way quickly out the door.

“What the hell was that?” Robin asks, turning to you.

“I have no idea.” You say earnestly.

“He’s so fucking stupid I swear to god,” she rolls her eyes and heads past you into the kitchen. She decided to keep her commentary at that. You escape to your room so you can process what the hell just happened.

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Steve hits his palms against his steering wheel in frustration. “SHIT!”

He completely fucked that up.

When you had a problem of this measure that bothered you, you’d call Steve. Or, you’d call Eddie. Neither option is one you felt was viable right now. You didn’t want to annoy Robin with it anymore than you’d had already- you’re sure she’s sick of everyone going to her. You have a bad habit of assuming you’re a burden when your anxiety spikes like this.

“Hey, Nance. I, uh, was just calling to-“

“Steve, please- we talked about this.”

He knew this was going to happen. But he couldn’t stop himself as he dialed her number. He knew he was supposed to stay away and give her and Jonathan space. How is he supposed to move on when he lost the one person he could call to talk about this? Steve felt Nancy understood him better than anyone- or at least at one point she did.

She hangs up before Steve gets a chance to say anything. He drops the receiver back onto the base. He lays back on the couch and takes some slow breaths. He can’t imagine that you all ended up here. After everything you all survived, this is what’s pulling you all apart.

Why the fuck did he call Nancy? Deep down he knows he wants to just talk to you but he just can’t right now. His brain is too congested with everything that’s come to light and it’s all such a scary, unfamiliar plane. Nancy is his familiar- it’s what he knows. He’s realizing maybe he didn’t actually pine for Nancy but instead he was yearning for that stability he once felt. He’s mourning the time for when it felt like he had absolutely everything.

It hits him all at once- like a huge wave that knocks you out when you’re bracing yourself to jump. He wanted it all back- fucking King Steve. Not the parties and the fucking assholes. He wanted to feel that way again. He wanted how he felt when he had a girlfriend who loved him and close friends he could walk the halls with. He missed when his life felt easy and he missed how easy it feels now compared to this. He wanted his life back- it wasn’t Nancy that he wanted- not really. He wanted to feel that way again and he was mourning his youth despite the imperfections.

He thought of you again, as he turned his body to stare at the phone. He knows he should call, and do his best to make you feel better. He needed you to understand that he understands so much more now than he did. The bigger picture is revealing itself more to him and he actually fucking gets it. Out of everything that has changed, you never did. It all feels so painfully obvious now. How could he have not seen it?

“Sup, man,” Eddie says casually, coming home from work. Taking off his jacket reveals that his coveralls are covered in a huge grease stain. Kicking off his work boots, he doesn’t wait for Steve to reply as he heads to the bathroom to shower. “You wanna get Chinese tonight?” he calls from the other room. Steve gulps and sits up, trying to shake himself out of it.

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from the bathroom and steam from his shower wafts out into the hallway.

“We’re good, right?” Eddie asks. He wants to say yes. Eddie did nothing wrong and Steve deep down knows it. He knows his resentment he’s harbouring is completely unfair- but it is running down to his core.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Steve says, trying his best to fake it. They aren’t good. Steve doesn’t know if they’d ever be good. Eddie knows it too. He knows Steve too well to know that he isn’t actually good. Eddie doesn’t fight it.

“I’ll get over it,” Eddie said. “Well, that’s a fucking lie. But, I can tell myself I can get over it.” Steve looks at him, confused. “If you and her want to be together, if you like her back- I’ll step down.”

“Why are you even saying that?”

“Because I want her to be happy more than anything else, and if I’m not that guy- I’m just getting in the way of that,” he confesses, and Steve can hear the hurt in his friend’s voice. “If you actually want to go for it- I’m not what’s stopping you, man.”

The phone breaks through the solemn moment the two of them share. Eddie looks to Steve and Steve shrugs before picking up the receiver.

“Hello?” He says, and he smiles to himself as he recognizes the voice on the other end. Then, Eddie watches as his friend’s face falls again- all in a brief few seconds. “It’s for you,” he says, dropping the receiver on the table for Eddie to get. Steve disappears down the hall and seeks refuge in his room.

“Hey,” Eddie says, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hey, it’s me,” he hears you say. Suddenly, Steve’s reaction makes a lot of sense.

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt

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kingdomaddiction · 3 days ago

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God yesssss ! I am so weak for this type of plot. Like, I imagine some random disciples shit talking about their martial uncle and SQQ hearing and being like:

“Oh? (((((: would you mind repeating that???? (((: what did say of your martial uncle????? (((:” and then giving them such a harsh punishment that no disciple dares to bad mouth their Shan Shishu ever again— which is so funny because SQQ is always insulting SQH to his face when he thinks no one’s looking BUT ONLY HE CAN DO THAT. NOT YOU.

Also I think something kind of similar happening in the sect meetings. Not only they make fun of him for being Peak Lord of their most unimpressive peak, but they ignore his hard work and just give him more responsibilities. Think of SQQ getting tired of this and one day before SQH arrives (he’s always a few minutes late) he just DESTROYS all of his martial brothers and sisters. What he tells them is so brutal that even one of them leaves the room crying and YQY promises things will change and ‘please, please Xiao Jiu forgive me, don’t be angry, this one will make it right and won’t let this unfair treatment continue, just stop yelling at me):

SQH is just happy in general because holy shit suddenly everyone is so nice!!!! Yes cumcuber can be quite the tsu fete but the guy is great and cute 🥰 he thinks he’s so cool and mysterious but airplane knows better!!!

I would like to think Cucumber-bro is surprisingly protective of Airplane. For Cucumber-bro, he's probably really homesick compared to Shang Qinghua, who's been living there for like 30+ years. There is no one else in this world that he could truly be Shen Yuan around. He probably would rather die than admit it, tho. Give me a secretly protective SQQ and a clueless SQH fic.

#svsss #shang qinghua #shen yuan #shang qinghua deserves love #cumplane

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kiyo-cant-write · 2 days ago

Note

hey! sorry if i'm bothering, but can I request Silver and a Cinderella-inspired Yuu? I just think it would be really cute and I couldn't get the thought out of my head at all! thanks in advance and have a good day!

silver w/ cinderella!reader ✧･ﾟ

This is a cute idea!! I loved Disney's Cinderella as a kid (all three movies). I had an idea for this and I went with it, please let me know if I should make a secondary part to this or if you'd like another aspect of a "Cinderella" Yuu to be explored.

Because of a lack of preference expressed, the reader is gender-neutral in this post (my default mode of writing). I'm getting better at checking, though. Don't want another accidentally making a male Yuu they/them again (sobs).

Summary: Silver meets someone from Royal Sword Academy at a joint school event that ultimately becomes a friend... or something more? Either way, Sebek won't shut up about it. (Silver with a Cinderella-inspired reader).

TW/CW: N/A

Notes: pre to in a relationship, the reader is NOT Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader

Guest Stars: Sebek Zigvolt

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver

Silver has no specific opinions when he first meets [Name]. His judgments are regarding threats to Malleus, not personal thoughts.

Over time, he begins to notice that [Name] is a nice person.

Not only that, but they are more genuine than the average NRC student. It's almost a bit uncanny in the beginning.

Silver does not approach [Name] first and will need to be pursued by them or (essentially) have a meet-cute with them.

Provided one of those things happens, Silver does not mind being the friend of this nice and soft-tempered person.

They do not seem to be a threat to Malleus, so he trusts them.

Silver admires [Name]'s ability in the kitchen and with housework as both tasks were struggles for Lilia when Silver was a child.

He may ask to help you in the kitchen to learn more about food.

His taste buds are a bit damaged from Lilia's cooking.

Despite this, he is eager to learn and make better food for his dorm and family alike. He will praise his teacher as well.

Silver is a bit dense when it comes to his own emotions.

Between falling asleep at bad times and lacking emotional experiences that would make him understand "romantic" endeavors, Silver only looks the part of a fairy tale prince.

He is more likely to enter a comfortable dynamic with his potential love interest than profess his undying love for them suddenly.

A confession from Silver comes after a long period of friendship followed by a longer period of ???-ship in which everyone thinks the two are dating except for them.

Silver later realizes that [Name]'s inner strength and gentle soul are what made him care for them as much as he does.

Looking down at the light-haired sophomore, [Name] wondered what he was dreaming about. How could someone fall asleep in this field when there was so much music from the joint-campus festival? It seemed a bit odd, even for a mage school. [Name] could only think of one student at RSA whose sleeping habits were even remotely similar.

"Pardon me... Are you okay?" they asked again, crouching down and leaning over to observe his expression.

He's really not waking up...

He was rather... princely. A beauty if there ever was one. Sleeping in this field with his hair gently tousled from however he'd ended up this way... His eyes were closed and his breathing slowed.

[Name] could think of a few classmates who might call him a prince.

As they watched him, debating on whether to call out to him again, they noticed the small bunch of animals that had appeared near the boy. There were two birds, a bluebird and a cardinal, as well as a small rabbit with white fur and red eyes.

How sweet...

What [Name] wasn't expecting was to lose their balance suddenly, falling without time to save anyone from the impact. It was in that instant that the boy woke up and swiftly, in one motion, pulled [Name] close to him to prevent them from crushing the animals that had been observing him.

However, that act of kindness left the two of them in a bit of a compromising position for two strangers to be in...

Footsteps were heard growing faster with every passing second.

[Name]'s face burned red at the closeness even if there was no lustful intentions behind the resulting position. It was for the animals, it wasn't toward them of all people! This boy didn't know them.

"SILVER!?? WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?" a voice asked quite loudly as he approached the two of them. "HOW DARE YOU, HUMAN!!!!"

Silver sighed.

He was human too. Wasn't he?

Truthfully, despite being raised by a fairy, Silver thought that Sebek needed to change his attitude even if just a tad. They did go to what amounted to a majority human school. Didn't they? It was inappropriate.

"Sebek, be quiet," Silver replied, hesitating to move lest he make the situation even more compromising, "Are you alright?"

The second part of his statement was toward the fallen [Name]. They blinked a few times before nodding, trying to get to their feet without injuring themself or "Silver" (as they had learned from the louder boy, "Sebek"). They did not succeed.

Where do you put your hands in this situation? They didn't want to make it worse. Lost in the moment, they could only nod to Silver.

This is definitely something to add to my journal...

"I'm fine, thank you for protecting the animals," [Name] told Silver.

A serious expression graced Silver's face.

"I wouldn't want them to get hurt, they're innocent."

This was Silver's personal sentiment as a knight and as the little boy who played in the woods for many formative years of his life.

"SILVER. DETACH YOURSELF FROM THAT HUMAN AT ONCE."

Sebek was... persistent.

Yes... Let's go with that word rather than the couple of insults that buzzed around Silver's mind at that moment. Sebek should, in an ideal world, know better than to be rude to a stranger, a guest at their school no less.

"Right," Silver replied, standing instantly before helping [Name] to their feet before stepping away from them.

It all happened so quickly that [Name] wasn't sure how he'd done it.

"I apologize for that," Silver told them, looking just a tad sheepish, "It was not behavior befitting a knight to my Master. I hope you will forgive me."

[Name] was at a loss for words once more. Master? Knight?

"It's okay," they assured, unsure what else to say.

But, really, it was fine. No harm done. If it was for the animals then it was well worth it. Silver hadn't had any perverse thoughts by it. It was a little awkward but all's well that ends well. That was their thought.

Silver nodded for the second or perhaps the third time in the interaction as he gave Sebek a look (this made Sebek's harsh anti-human glare lessen ever-so-slightly).

"Once again, I apologize to you..." Silver trailed off, "Ah, I don't believe I've even introduced..."

In the two seconds Silver paused, Sebek cut him off.

"This is Silver and I am Sebek Zigvolt. Guards to Malleus-sama, we are here to ensure his safety," Sebek explained as if reciting something that had been taught to him from a young age.

"That we are," Silver agreed, "And you are..?"

"[Full Name]," [Name] answered, "A pleasure to meet you."

"Of course," Silver spoke, shooting a look at Sebek who was still glaring daggers at [Name] from earlier, "We have to leave now, but maybe we'll cross paths again."

A smile graced [Name]'s lips as they nodded.

What an interesting pair.

Unknown to [Name], Silver would think back on their encounter that night. Perhaps that was a first for him. It would be something for his father to tease him about for the rest of eternity, he supposed.

Imagine the rest yourself~

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

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wangxianficfinder · 1 day ago

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In the mood for...

Jan 6th

~*~

1. So in the book, xue yang is younger than wei wuxian, like he and Xiao xingchen were supposed to be closer to wwx's son/nephew's age. So, itmf stories where xue yang is actually wwx's son (they do share physical similarities) adopted or bio. Or at least related to each other in some way. Imagine - xue yang is wwx's long lost son or cousin or something. Or things similar to "the kids are OK (I think)" by gosamerglimmer on ao3, where xy wwx & mxy are all cousins descended from lost xue sect

Coincidentally… (Or, if you ask Xue Yang, purposefully with the intent of slander and defamation!) by pipip (G, 2k, WWX & XY, YLLZ WWX, Wangxian is only implied, XY is a Brat, Gremlin XY, MXY Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Happiness, XY Deserves Better, XY is a Little Shit, XY is Bad at Feelings, Everyone Loves WWX)

🔒Til Death Do Us Part by Thyone14 (Not Rated, 73k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, WWX Needs a Hug, Protective LWJ, Soft WangXian, POV LWJ, POV Alternating, No Smut, POV WWX)

~*~

2. ITMF JGY or the cultivation world finding out that the Yilling Patriarch's weakness is LWJ and they're not above using him to take down WWX. It could be LXC pretending to be LWJ to lure WWX out like in 'bloom unto the ground' by tattletold or anything, I'm just looking for fics where everyone is aware of LWJ being WWX's weakness and uses it to their advantage

~*~

3. heyo, Are there Any fics where the Juniors witness Wangxian sweetness? Like that's it. They're just witnessing their beautiful relationship but also angsty moments? Please let me know, please and thank you and have a nice new years 😁 @yasssbassss

Dear Hanguang-Jun by cavaleira (M, 8k, WangXian, ZhuiLing, Fluff, Established Relationship, Humor, Post-Canon)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea))

can anybody find me (somebody to love) by stiltonbasket (G, 2k, WangXian, Slice of Life, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Domestic Fluff, Introspection, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Happy Ending)

Over and out by baxia (G, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Junior Quartet-centric, Junior Ensemble-centric, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Teacher WWX, Teacher LWJ, Married WangXian, Established Relationship, POV LJY, Future zhuiyi)

~*~

4. ITMF request please—any Wangxian horse stories? Like they meet at a riding club or WWX gets to have a favorite horse or their swords are horses? I read the one where he helped save CR bc of LWJ’s request and now I just want more of him with horses. 🐴 tysm!!

Légèreté by perkynurples (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern au, Horse riding, Swords as horses, Crack treated seriously, Friends to Lovers)

Nothing to rec, but I was wondering which fic prompted #4 :) (in general would like it if requesters specified which fic they mean if they make a reference to something)

~*~

5. Any fics that have the Yiling laozu and reincarnated Wei Ying in Mo Xuanyu’s body in the same time period and Lahn Zhan’s reaction to both? I read one called Me Myself and Lan Wanji by Melon and A Tide of Teo Seas by Occulting, so was looking for more or similar fics. Thanks! @toyft2

🔒 Four Parts Honey and One Part Vinegar by masked (T, 13k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Fluff, Humor, Time Travel, 5+1 Things, Jealous WWX, the Impeccable Trust between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, POV Outsider, everyone is Thirsty for Hanguang-jun as one tends to be)

~*~

6. Hi! Happy New Year! I hope 2025 is a blessed year for you all!

For ITMF: any fics that include WangXian wedding where JC is there as WWX’s family. @bitemepotter

Thank you for all your hard work!

With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by sami (E, 65k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, LWJ & LXC, Canonical Character Death, Mentions of Rape, not explicit but definitely referenced, Time Travel, Not Everyone Dies au, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, WWX/babie tendencies, WQ is a queen in any reality, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, WWX finds new ways to be oblivious, seriously it surprised even us, Для нас обоих (И время лишь бумажная луна) by nomuad, [Podfic] Cold read of For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by kisahawklin)

A Lifetime of It (Please, and Thank You) by misscam (M, 5k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, JC & WWX, Wedding, Humor, Fluff, Angst, some naughtiness, Switching)

💖 Nice work if you can get it by deliciousblizzardshark (M, 11k, WangXian, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, the make people respect WWX agenda, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Soft WangXian, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, a very very small amount of smut, also a possessed squirrel, El trabajo es bueno si lo quieres by evirtual3, [Podfic] Nice work if you can get it by deliciousblizzardshark)

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts, Le feu qui gagne la rivière by Silu_chan, [Podfic of] The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by exmanhater)

The long road home by dea_liberty (M, 9k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Found Families, Happy Ending, a lot of feelings, Epilogue, Marriage, so many feelings, Some angst, (Русский) The long road home by rootofallevil)

~*~

7. Hello! Good morning/afternoon/evening! For I'm In The Mood For: fics where LWJ thinks that WWX rejected him (after confessing to him) or that WWX only calls him a friend and he just accepted that they could be nothing more.

Only for WWX to find out that LWJ's crush rejected him or that LWJ is heartbroken and tries to find out who rejected LWJ.

LWJ could distance himself from WWX or they continue staying friends. I could definitely go with either Angst or Humor. Thank you :D

r/relationships by vespertineflora (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Viral Reddit Post, Pining, Crushes, Friends to Lovers, Awkward Flirting, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Comedy, Love Confessions, Kissing, Happy Ending, r/relationships [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

Some of You by tangerinechar (M, 60k, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi Modern AU, Social Media, Actor AU, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Love Confessions, Matchmaking, Light Angst)

How Wei Ying Went from Oblivious Idiot to Shameless Boyfriend in Three Days by misscam (T, 5k, WangXian, College/University, Modern AU, Getting Together, Humor)

~*~

8. Hello and happy holidays!! ❤️✨️

ITMF Wei Ying returning from the BM not as a normal human, but changed. Like, maybe he A) becomes a fierce corpse (either sentient/semi/ordinary), B) a ghost/spirit/ghost fire, or C) he is "reborn" or remade there into another form entirely (some horror creature/a demonic animal).

Also peferrably with Wei Ying dying before being thrown into the BM (maybe he is not even thrown there, like in Grief Kindly Stopped by ShanaStoryteller), so the Wens and everyone else are sure he is dead, angst and grief following. Or maybe he disappears like in canon, and later after his return it is found out that he is not alive/fully human anymore.

Thank you everyone! @shellennium

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding) Wei Ying dies after being thrown into the Burial Mounds but he returns "other."

🔒between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, WangXian, SanLi, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, sorta, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating, Happy Ending) I think between the shadow and the soul also works but Wei Ying doesn't exactly die in this one.

~*~

9. Hello! I wanted to know if there are any fics where Wei Wuxian had enough and snapped at everyone including Lan Wangji @yuukikonnos-world

~*~

10. Hii - first off: obligatory thank you so much for the work you do in this fandom!! (I feel like you get this all the time but also not often enough: so just: thank you thank you thank you!!)

For the next itmf - I was wondering if you all have any specific favorites or have a compilation list of fics along the lines of “character watches the show/reads the book” whatever; not picky on what character watches or is focused on!

💖 The Path by Seastar98 (Not Rated, 279k, WangXian, CQL Verse, Golden core reveal, Fix-it of sorts, Angst with a happy ending)

💖 Teen Project to Change the World by animeloverhomura (Not rated, 841k, wangxian, watching the series, fix-it of sorts, bamf!wwx, WIP)

The Characters of MDZS Watching the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by emma_screams (M, 166k, WIP, WangXian, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Drama)

Song of Joy and Regrets by HelloKitten (Not Rated, 134k, WIP, WangXian, Angst, Self-Harm, Child Abuse, Time Travel Fix-it)

~*~

11. For itmf, I'm craving some wangxian who are reuniting after being separated for whatever reason and one of them is shocked to find out the other now has a child and there are big feelings about the whole thing. Ty!

estuaries by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 34k, WangXian, Modern, Breakup/makeup, breakup mostly happens off-screen, Pining while fucking, Single Dad WWX, brief mention of chronic illness, Angst with a Happy Ending)

i guess i’ll have to change my plan by darjeelinh (E, 42k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, First Time, Inspired by Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004), soft rom-com vibes, One Night Stands, but not really, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, they both have demi vibes in this fight me about it, Misunderstandings, Separations, Reunions, WangXian canon Elopement™️ shenanigans, now with art)

plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by fleurdeliser (E, 47k, WangXian, Modern AU, Car Accidents, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Non-Explicit References to Injuries and Death, References to Addiction, Doctors & Physicians, Falling In Love, soft romance, background 3zun, [Podfic of] plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by knight_tracer, [Podfic of] plant a little happiness (let the roots run deep) by exmanhater)

my dreams are playing softer now by fleurdeliser (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Drunken Shenanigans, First Dates)

❤️ save a sword, ride a socialist by sysrae (E, 33k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Single Parent WWX, Homophobia, LQR’s A+ Parenting, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, idiots to lovers, car seats as an expression of love, literal plot bunnies, Fluff, some not-so-light Angst, the inherent eroticism of boning down while receiving free childcare)

Lifelong Confidant by saved (E, 42k, wangxian, modern, Fluff and Angst, Past Character Death, Families of Choice, Explicit Sexual Content, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Oblivious WWX, playing fast and loose with basic real life things, references to past alcoholism/substance abuse, Alcohol)

Unstrictly Ballroom by Ariaste (T, 47k, WangXian, background SongXiao, Modern AU, Everyone’s alive, the gang defeats systemic heteronormativity, Stripper AU, competitive ballroom dance AU, really stupid misunderstandings, Yearning, Mutual Pining, the wrist grab, Erotic Handholding, [Podfic] Unstrictly Ballroom by RevolutionaryJo, Unstrictly Ballroom [Podfic] by esbielle)

Yesterday Once More by Sweetlittlevampire (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern, Reality Show, Long Lost Family AU, Adoption, Family Reunions, Reunions, Lost Love, Getting Back Together, Family Feels, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, [Podfic] Yesterday Once More by shash_reads (sunkitten_shash))

Nothing but your heart by airinshaw (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, First Time, Getting Together, Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Whump, Breeding Kink)

~*~

12. In the mood for a fic where Lan Zhan have Qi deviation or is in serious danger of it. I have read one fic that Lan Zhan nearly qi deviates and it made me interested in this concept (I loved how everyone was so worried and protective of him, even his uncle). I haven't seen any other fics like that so far so I would be grateful for the help.

No-One Else (As Much As You) by sami (M, 6k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Family, Slice of Life, Children, Insecurity, Unexpected Complications Of Reincarnation, Mild qi deviation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort) LWJ has a mild qi deviation in this one, but FYI it is a sequel and may not make much sense without reading the first in the series

~*~

13. Hi, first, thanks for all your amazing work. You have been a source of joy and help with my sanity for years!! I want to know if you could include a request for the next I'm in the Mood for a Fic post. I want fics related to Reality TV. I have read all the ones you have in your Fic Compilations, but I wonder if there is any more!! Specially any fic inspired by Survivor or by The Amazing Race!! Pretty please!! Be well!! Happy New Year!! Hugs!!! @monicaop21

Thank you for the new recs!! I think this are amazing stories!! If there are any more later I'll keep an eye for it ;). Be well!!!

❤️ Knight Hunt! Phoenix Mountain by travelingneuritis (E, 51k, wangxian, modern, dating show, Modern Cultivation, but in the silliest way possible, Reality TV, the juniors are interns, Smut, Illustrations, low-stakes pining)

and from our own/live to ourselves by betweentheheavesofstorm (M, 105k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fantasy, Reality TV, Arctic Survival, Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Getting Together, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Bloodletting, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Animal Death, Hunting, Mild Sexual Content)

~*~

14. Hi, I'm in the mood for a wangxian multiple time loops fic. I've recently been reading a Korean bl called Cloudless Sky (highly recommend, modern with super powers, found family, A+ plot so far about the mc repeating the same tragedy over and over again) and it was so WangXian coded that I know I'm going to be itching to read a similar one after I've finished. I've come across a few in the past but they've never been completed so it'd be great if the recommended fics are also complete :) @gsmileys

the cycle of regret by KouriArashi (T, 14k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Night Hunts, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Use Your Words, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy)

Every Time You Close Your Eyes by brooklinegirl (E, 38k, WangXian, Time Loop, Modern AU, Modern with Cultivation, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, I swear there is a happy ending, but yeah WWX dies a lot, Case Fic)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

~*~

15. This would be for ITMF? I just read That Bitter Draught by nirejseki, it's a Su She central fic but it's so well written (it stays true to his character too) and it actually made me like Su She! I'll love to read similar fics if it exists (praying it does). I don't care too much about the ships, I just want more Su She central fics

Honestly, What Did You Expect by BlueberryLimoncello (T, 27k, WIP, WangXianShe, WangXianOC, waking up as a minor villain, playing fast and loose with the plot, playing even faster with the mechanics of qi, MC is SS, POV SS, POV First Person, potentially making everything worse?, Unreliable Narrator)

💙🔒Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana (T, 16k, WangXian, 3rd person pov, implied offscreen wangxian sex)

~*~

16. ok so when i was daydreaming as always i come up with some ideas and i thought im sure someone wrote this. A) Wangxian / regression. Wei or Wangji or both will turn back in time where they can fix their past mistakes or regrets before bad things happen. Rewriting of Mo Dao Zu Shi from a regression perspective. ( i don't prefer the untamed fics but I don't care as long as i can find what i want) . I have one more but letter limit prevent me writing so i will make a second of this

B) Second one is more spesific and probably there is no fic like that. This is more like transmigration/isekai where some fan or reader of the mdzs enter the story as a side/mob and try to fix things and also brings couples together. I don't want mc to fall in love with main characters or anything like she must ship wangxian(it is a must) and make them couples. She can have a romance with any other side/mob character.( Like mc transmigrated as madam yu can have romance with jfm and fix her family ) @kaiserokitadesadesougoii

16A)

🔒 if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect)

💖 Looking at You Always, All Ways by Keysmashed T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nostalgia, Subtly Assertive LWJ, WWX Won't Back Down But Blushes Anyway, Very Mild Angst with a Happy Ending)

Family by Quiet_crash (G, 57k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JLY & WWX & JC, LXC & WWX, JYL & LWJ, Time Travel Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Established Relationship)

🔒 We Can See a New Start by preciousbunnynoiz (M, 127k, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Soulmates, Time Travel Fix-It, Biting, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, but mentally they are adults, Making Out, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Happy Ending, PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Supportive LWJ, Communication, Soul Bond, Blood, Found Family, Parent-Child Relationship, aromantic JC, Lesbian WQ, Queerplatonic Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Disassociate episodes, disassociating, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Depression, Delusions, Mental Health Issues, Mental Breakdown, Attempted Sexual Assault, Therapy, Supportive JC, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Torture, Revenge, Self-Sacrifice, Accidental Bonding, Brotherly Bonding)

this is our vow by orro (E, 142k, WangXian, WIP, Major Character Death, Time Travel Fix-It, Butterfly Effect, For Want of a Nail, Character Death, Sunshot Campaign, Child Death, War Crimes, Time Travelling WWX, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet)

16B)

i told you when i came i was a stranger by Caramelized (M, 50k, OFC/LXC, minor WangXian, Isekai, Transmigration, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Amateur cartography, Butterfly Effect, Sunshot Campaign, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, No Golden Core Transfer, Dimension Travel, Politics, LXC the politician, Self-Insert, Foreknowledge, Angst with a Happy Ending)

The Tamed by Escheria (T, 481k, WangXian, WIP, LWJ/XZ, WYB/WWX, YiZhan, YLLZ WWX, The Untamed (TV) References, Overpowered WWX, XZ is WWX, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, Isekai, Demonic Cultivation, Genius WWX, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soulmates, Reincarnation)

~*~

17. itmfff

fcis with the "don't touch my wife!" trope in arranged marriage or otherwise plsplsplspls

thank u sm! @bunnycoffeeumcat

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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somereaderinblue · 2 days ago

Text

LMK God Games

Did somebody say LMK x Epic the Musical??? I had to post this after seeing these amazing YT animatics which I highly rec. Anyways, enjoy some LMK Nezha content!

[NEZHA]

Father, general, rarely do I ask for favors

Now I humbly, beseech you to spare some mercy

For a dear friend who’s a prisoner far from home

Sun Wukong.

[LI JING]

Divine intervention, is that what you seek?

To untie apprehensions that were placed on that beast?

You may upset the balance for an ape full of shame

But if he's worth the risk of such loud dissent

Let us make it a test.

Convince each of them that he deserves to be released, and I'll release him.

[NEZHA]

Who's them?

[LI JING]

Nüwa! Lao Tzu!

Guanyin! Ao Guang!

Chang’e! Or Me.

What do you say?

[NÜWA]

Great.

[LAO TZU]

Very well.

[GUANYIN]

Agreed.

[AO GUANG]

Hmph.

[CHANG’E]

Groovy!

[NEZHA]

Bring it.

[NÜWA]

You know well I'm a fan of nature’s all

So with so many creatures gone

Has Wukong no heart at all?

[NEZHA]

Their intentions meant him harm

He had companions under his charge

It was a hard choice to make

To live another day and prevail despite the stakes!

[NÜWA]

Fair point, release him.

[LAO TZU]

Trust is not real without care

Why should we offer him a hand?

He turned his back on all his friends.

[NEZHA]

Did you forget they failed to listen?

He was betrayed and then imprisoned

But if you make the right decision

He can still build a future with those he misses.

[LAO TZU]

Fine, release him.

[GUANYIN]

Though he is strong and mighty, your friend Wukong

Has a callous heart, disregards others for himself.

[NEZHA]

He was busy fighting-

[GUANYIN]

More like busy spiting the deities

It is only fair he faces comeuppance for his crimes.

[NEZHA]

Wait! Please reconsider this….

[AO GUANG]

Really Nezha? These old tricks?

[NEZHA]

Ao Guang!

[AO GUANG]

What kind of so-called warrior just uses his power

Uncaring of those in the crossfire?

He didn’t even spare his brothers

Turned to fodder to sate her

Traded all their lives to demons of bone

Untrustworthy, obtuse, upfront

Pathetic and weak like his son!

[NEZHA]

Hold your tongue now! His son's my friend!

And when were second chances something we can’t spare?

You want redemption? Then set him free

To get back to his homestead for atonement, you’ll all see!

[GUANYIN & AO GUANG]

Very well, release him.

[CHANG’E]

Hey bestie~

So many legends, so many tales

Give me one good reason why yours should prevail!

[NEZHA]

He's got some nice golden vision!

[CHANG’E]

Try harder.

[NEZHA]

He wields a mighty staff!

[CHANG’E]

You can do better than that!

[NEZHA]

He's kind of funny?

[CHANG’E]

Eh…

[NEZHA]

Never once does he stop loving his mate.

[CHANG’E]

Release him!

[NEZHA]

I’ve done your test and passed! Release him.

[LI JING]

You dare to defy me? To not know your place?

No one beats me, no one brings heaven shame!

Power, madness, balance, justice

I must show you right from wrong

To cease this tantrum once and for all!

[GUANYIN]

Is he dead?

An entire lifetime unfolds between Nezha’s heartbeats.

Sun Wukong’s life.

As a troublemaker, a warrior, a king……

Then a husband, a father.

How lovely the day had been, the memory as sweet as the peaches and plums they had gorged on.

And then-

“YOU’RE ALONE!”

The words erode him from within like rot through fruit. He’s not alone, he has powers mortals could only dream of having a speck of, he has his father, brothers and duties-

He has Wukong’s friendship. Or well, he had it.

Nezha blinks and suddenly he sees Xiaotian, MK, Wukong and Macaque’s son, their legacy, the star to their sun and moon, Nezha’s-

“-friend, I couldn’t ask for more!”

Wukong was wrong.

He knows what he’s fighting for now.

Through the blinding glow of Li Jing’s attack, a flurry of pink lotus petals explodes in retaliation.

Gritting his teeth, Nezha’s arms trembled under his shield. He takes one step forward, then another, and another-

His shield shatters, he takes two steps back. He barely raises his spear in time to block his father’s next blow. The shaft of his weapon is molten lava in his palms.

He loses his spear first. Then most of his armor, then his wheels, ah he hasn’t walked in a while, with how shaky his legs are he’s surprised he’s still upright-

Then he’s not. His father’s wrath rumbles in warning. What was one more act of defiance?

And so Nezha, Third Lotus Prince, crawls up those final steps and uses the last of his strength to grab the Pagoda-Wielding General’s fluttering cape.

[NEZHA]

Let him go….please

Let him go…..

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk au #epic the musical au #lmk nezha #lmk li jing #lmk chang'e #lmk nuwa #lmk ao guang #guanyin #lao tzu #instead of an isle wukong's trapped under a mountain #originally chang'e was gonna be apollo #but i decided to let her go full pop idol with those judge seats + buzzer #also considering her romance with houyi shadowpeach would def touch her #also nezha & swk are soooo sibling-coded and i love fan content of him being friends w/ mk #i love nezha content in gen #song rewrite #alt idea: swk's trapped in the memory scrolls

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just-a-small-obsession · 2 days ago

Text

Boundaries

Summary: Soldier boy and healthy boundaries don't exist, loud crass words and heavy touches are all he knows. Inserting a strange woman that he can't crack or get into his bed makes his gears turn.

Paring: Soldier Boy x Autistic!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, slight Angst, Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy, OC Soldier Boy?, Rocking as a form of stemming, the use of the word retard, Slow burn.

Authors Note: Might have rushed this! I'm debating whether or not to make this into full-on fanfiction, so I hope this one-shot gives you an idea of what I want the dynamic to be between Soldier Boy and the reader.

Enjoy!

***********************************************

Soldier Boy's Pov

To say that she was a tough nut to crack is an understatement, a young thing like herself sitting next to America's first and only golden boy and not throwing herself at him like a bitch in heat was unusual. I look back up at the TV at the show that she turned on, not understanding what I'm seeing or just not caring in the first place. We aren't that far apart from each other on the couch, she's in cross legs while I'm spreading my legs wide just to give her a slight hint to look at the jewels.

"you must a lesbian."

She looked taken aback by my words.

"no"

"You telling me that you got a golden cock right next to you and you don't want to ride it like a cowgirl in the rodeo."

She moves away from me to the other side of the long couch and stares at the TV once more ignoring me. I sigh, being asleep for as long as I have and not getting any action makes a man do crazy things.

"That made me uncomfortable, please don't say things like that to me thank you." She said bluntly, not once making eye contact.

"I'm making you uncomfortable. listen I'm not going to touch you if that's what you're worried about, if I wanted to fuck I could go out that door and head to the corner and get a nice hooker."

"Apologize" another word she said to me without looking me in the eyes. Fuck people these days don't look at people when they talk to each other anymore. "I'm not apologizing," I tell her point blank. "you should", Silence. it was quiet after that, I'm not going to start a fight with some little girl over a little joke. Again, one tough nut. not going to lie I'm starting to find it pretty appealing. looking at her, she's actually nice to look at. Sitting with her and watching this show was better than listening to the cum guzzler complaining about whatever the British fucker wants. Having them leave me with Miss Sit pretty must be the best they have for a babysitter, I don't need a fucking babysitter I'm a grown-ass man. meeting her for the first time was quick and short, a simple wave and hello was from her and she went to sit with the others.

Catching my eye from the TV was her starting to rock back and forth on the couch, 'What the fuck is her deal is she some mental patent or something'. Her eyes were still glued to the screen as she continued to rock her heart away.

It was annoying, Fucking annoying. She was shaking the whole couch for fuck sake. "Hey stop that" I was ignored.

"I said stop that "

"Hey do you hear me, I stop rocking"

I was once again ignored. I clench my hand in a fist and slam it onto the couch cushions.

____POV

I don't know why but he's angry, I feel it radiating off of him was it because I told him to apologize to me after being rude and nasty. Butcher always told me to make sure if I'm feeling uncomfortable I should always say that I am. I don't think he's all that bad, Hughie always says that he's a dick and a danger, I agree with the first notion but dangerous? I don't like that he takes up a lot of space, he spreads his legs so he touches my legs and I hate it. We have a whole couch and he chooses to still touch me. At least my show is distracting me from him.

I feel the couch move heavily, like a smack of some sort. It startles me and I look at him confused. "Yeah?" what else is there to say?

"I've been talking to you and you won't stop this fucking rocking bullshit"

"What are you talking about?"

"you're rocking, fucking rocking can't you feel!" I shake my head, what is he talking about I'm just sitting here trying to watch my show in peace. "fucking stop!" He yells and grabs me harshly.

Shrinking my body I try to get away from him, why is he grabbing me like this! "L-Let go of me!" I squeak, surprisingly he does let go of me after I ask him to. I curl up in a ball at the corner of the sofa.

" There, was that so hard"

Soldier Boy's POV

Do I feel bad for grabbing her, yes but am I happy that she stopped that stupid shit, also yes. The hotel door opens to reveal tweedle dee and dumb.

"Fucking finally" I walk to Butcher and grab the case of beer out of his hand and place it on the small table. I look and see that she has left the sofa has her purse and phone in hand and walking to Limpdick.

" I want to go home now hugie"

"Are you okay?"

"I want to go home now please." With a nod, they both leave the room and close the door behind them. Taking a swig butcher looks at me pissed.

" The fuck happened here mate?"

"She's the one doing her freaky bullshit, she's got something wrong with her head that one."

"She's different is all, nothing wrong with that"

"Fucking rocking back and forth, that normal for you"

"She does that to calm herself down mate, she does it all that time with us. just let her ride it out." I laugh, "Grabbing her sure made her stop, it was fucking annoying me." Butcher walked towards me and grabbed my shirt collar. "you cunt" "Get your fucking hands off me" I push him away. After a while Hughie is back, he looks at me with a pissed-off look butcher had not too long ago. I'm sitting back on the couch and Hughie sits next to me.

"You can't do that to her"

"Do what? scare her? Show her manners"

"Being a dick and not respecting her boundaries, you ass"

"Boundaries what the fuck does boundaries have to do with this"

"Listen I don't know what you called people like her back then but now, she is what you call being on the spectrum, autistic."

"You mean a retard right?"

"Jesus Christ no, and don't say that!" the kid freaks out and sighs as he puts his face in his hands. "She just does things her own certain way, okay, she has her own boundaries, and grabbing her like that was one of them."

"What you telling me I scared her?"

"No, just made her anxious and confused. She doesn't like being touched that much really." well fuck, now that weak little shit got me feeling bad. I didn't want to make this a big deal it was just a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. Christ, it's not like I wanted to make her feel that way. I sigh and look at the kid, "Fine, I'll apologize to her when she comes back tomorrow."

********************************

Tomorrow came and Soldier Boy was in his normal stop on the sofa watching the shit on the TV he didn't even like. She was supposed to be arriving at the hotel in a short bit and he was getting ready to possibly say sorry for the first time in his life. The door opened and she came through with headphones in her ears and a phone in her face. She places her purse on the table takes her headphones off and turns her phone off.

"Hi" quiet as a mouse.

"Hey, sorry about yesterday" Ripping it off like a bandaid. she nods her head and smiles at him.

"Thank you," she says and sits down in the same spot she did the day before crosses her legs, and looks at the TV, Soldier Boy watching her with a softness blooming in his eyes. Boundaries, Boundaries he can learn.

************************************************************************

@mochminnie

@sl33pylilbunny

@pumpkincandlesoup

Still felt like I rushed this, but I wanted this out before I forgot about it in my drafts. I just to see if I even liked the vibes of this.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #autistic!reader #the boys #soldier boy #billy butcher #the boys hughie

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jellybeanium124 · 19 hours ago

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I'M LOSING MY FUCKING SHIT PLEASE ARE THERE ANY OTHER MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL FANS IN THE HOUSE WHO REMEMBER THE PLOT LINE WHERE JOEL RENTS A BAR ABOVE AN ILLEGAL CHINESE GAMBLING DEN AND THEN FALLS IN LOVE WITH THE BADASS DAUGHTER OF THE COUPLE WHO RUN THE GAMBLING ROOM!??!?!!

mei and zheng would either get on like a house on fire or be magnificent bastard4magnificent bastard mortal enemies. either way zheng would be like "guuuuurl why are you dating that loser?? you're better than him!!!! cmon!!!!" and mei would be like "ok but have you seen him face? he's so cute tho. and he's trying his best." jim and archie and olu also fall in love with mei immediately.

meanwhile stede and joel commiserate about being loser failhusbands with wildly talented ex-wives and ed gets really jealous of joel immediately because (checks notes) he had a nice conversation with stede. ed maybe warms up to him a squinch when joel lets out an "oy gevalt..." under his breath when gangsters and his mother decide to enter his bar at the exact same time with the exact same looks on their faces.

jackie hates joel. immediately. openly. she takes one look at him and is on thin ice. she knows his type. he deserves whatever happens to him, but I believe in him. he might not win jackie over but he won't be stupid enough to get his nose cut off. he's been dealing with multiple sets of gangsters recently AND susie myerson for years, and if a crummy little man can survive susie myerson with all his body parts in tact then he must be doing something right.

susie and jackie though? tight as hell immediately.

sorry I should just make my own post??

A new update to DJenks' bluesky story!!

#everyone watch marvelous mrs. maisel now please it's so good and funny

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aradassbadass · 3 days ago

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cellular sentiment| ceedee lamb

in which you and ceedee have been friends for a while but you only talk on the phone but he surprises you after his game.

you jolted awake as you felt the vibrations on your face.

“huh?” you say eyes still shut.

“damn what took you so long to answer i called you thirty eleven times.” the voice on the other side made you smile.

“hush cedarian, i was sleep.” you mumble turning over eyes still closed.

“thats all you do is sleep.” he says and you roll your eyes- or try to at least.

“what do you want man, why you call me this late?” you ask trying to sound annoyed.

he just laughs, “its 6 oclock in the evening almost 7, aint shit late about it, and i thought you said you was gone watch our game today just lies.” he says teasingly.

“hush yall ass. probably lost anyways, you know you sorry.” you laugh.

“shii, i dont know who you talking to but im far from sorry.” he sasses back. you cant help but laugh. “nah, but forreal though i was just trying to see what you had planned tonight.”

you finally open your eyes and the light from him dimly illuminates your face and he glances down.

“you so beautiful.” he smiles and you blush immediately dropping the phone.

“oh my God please stop.”

“im forreal- you know i always tell you that.”he says and you roll your eyes blushing even harder.

“thank you but anyways im not finna do nothing hell i may get up and cook but then its right back in bed for me- i got work tomorrow. i already got my gown on and everything.”

“which one? better be the one i got you.” he says.

“and is, what should i cook? steak and potatoes or shrimp fried rice?” you ask getting up and going to the kitchen.

it felt good, natural even. it had become a little routine that you both felt comfortable in. he would call youd answer, yall would chat about anything-everything under the sun and inevitably your fall asleep on him but he would never hang up.

how you managed to become friends was purely some twisted sort of luck if you could even call it that. after your mom passed he was the one that got her number and when the messages started sending in blue instead of green you werent quick to notice, so when you had a particularly shitty day and texted her number

‘mama, i wish you were here. i need you now more than ever.’

and received a message reading

‘im sorry but i think you have the wrong number. it will be okay though’

you almost broke down. luckily he was nice enough and allowed you to vent and the rest was history. a friendship blossomed even though it was only cellular.

“if you dont prop me up so i can see.” he griped.

“omg youre so needy.” you sigh propping him-the phone- up.

he laughs, “whatever hmmm i think shrimp.”

“hmmm i think not.” you say grabbing the steak.

“bro what the hell, why you even ask then.” he says smacking his lips.

“cause i can.” you say and you just know he’s rolling his eyes.

“if you say so, but ima hit you back, this my momma calling me.”

“ok be safe.”

“i will, talk to you later.” and the phone clicks.

you hum as you begin to season the two sirloins, quickly reaching over to turn on the stove.

its crazy how life works. your just a history teacher at a small high school in your area and one of your best friends is the biggest player in your state.

“who would have thought”you mumble to yourself thinking ahout when you finally realized who he was.

one of your students had worn a jersey with his last name on it and you found it a bit peculiar, so you texted him.

‘u have a cousin or something in the nfl? one of these my kids got on a jersey w yo last name’

‘😂is u being fr rn’

‘wym?’

‘omg you is lmaooooooo 😭😩 go ask him who jersey he got on’

‘wtf js tell me’

and he left you on read

you put your phone down and huffed.

“hey garret, who’s jersey do you have on?”

“ceedee lamb, excuse my language miss but he cold as hell.” and as soon as the name came out of his mouth your stomach dropped.

“o-oh ok. it-its nice.” you barely stammer out before picking up your phone.

‘YOU PLAY FUCKIN FOOTBALL WTF’

‘😭😭😭😭😂’

‘omfggg ts crazyyyy& u aint tell nb shi’

needless to say he got an earful that night when you two did finally get on the phone.

you flip the steaks over on the cast iron skillet allowing it to sear then place the potatoes on a baking sheet and toss them in the oven.

you grab your phone and go to see where cee is, but you notice his location is off.

‘where tf u at & why that damn lo off?’

he immediately reads it but you see no text bubble.

‘wowwww read ight bet.’

then you throw down your phone and almost instantly its a light knock on your door.

confusion washes over you as you furrow your brows together.

“who is it ?” you call getting on your tip toes to see out of the peephole but its just dark.

you sigh and unlock the door opening it only enough to peek out and low and behold its cedarian with a big goofy smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

this is ch1 of a fic im gonna be posting on wattpad lmk what yall think. i love ceedee he is so cute omf i just have all the feels.

#fanfic #ceedee lamb #nfl #ceedee lamb x reader #plus size reader #fluff #dallas cowboys

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thursdayinspace · 3 hours ago

Text

ficlet: quarantine

I needed fluff, so I wrote some. Perhaps a little messy, but definitely fluffy, post-Firewalker. They're in quarantine and Scully is bored. Mulder isn't.

She expected him to get restless and irritable before the end of their first day in quarantine. It’s been five days now, and although he’s been pacing a lot and at times talked for fifteen minutes straight about random cryptids she’d never heard about before, he does seem to be handling this a lot better than she is. Most of the time, he seems almost content.

She can’t say the same about herself. There’s simply nothing to do and she’s bored out of her mind. Standing still gives her too much time to think, and that’s the last thing she wants to be doing right now.

“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, and when she looks up at him from her seat on her uncomfortable chair and meets his eyes across the tiny table they use for their meals, the corners of his mouth are twitching with a barely held-back grin.

“No,” she admits. “Sorry. What were you saying? Something about… banjos?”

“Banshees,” he says. “It doesn’t matter. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” She sighs.

“Come on.” He leans forward, arms folded on the table. “You can talk to me. There’s… actually not much else to do here.”

“Yeah.” She leans back with another sigh. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“You’re bored?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Well.” He shrugs. “Yeah. Of course I’m bored. We have nothing to do and nowhere to go and there’s absolutely nothing good on TV.”

“And we’re gonna be stuck here for several more weeks,” she points out, pushing herself up out of her chair to walk over to their single window. It’s completely dark outside. Time has lost all meaning. It could be late evening. It could be past midnight. It doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

“It’s not so bad,” he says, and she twirls around to him.

“Mulder, there is nothing to do here. Nothing.”

“So we’ll come up with something,” he suggests, getting up and making his way over to her. He stands so close she has to lean her head all the way back to look up at him. She’s in her socks and he’s so tall. And he’s smiling. Something aches deep in her gut.

“Like what?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” He bites his lip and seems to think about it.

He’s so beautiful it hurts her heart. Being stuck here is bad enough. Being stuck here with him is torture. Ever since she came back, he’s been so attentive, so careful with her. She can feel him looking at her when he thinks she won’t notice. And he’s always there. All the time. As if he’s afraid she’ll disappear again. And she doesn’t know what any of it means. She knows he wore her necklace when she was missing.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says at last, and that makes her laugh out loud.

“We can’t,” she reminds him. “We literally can’t, Mulder.”

“Sure we can.”

He takes her hand and places it in the crook of his elbow, eyes sparkling as he grins at her widely.

“What are you—” She shakes her head. “What are we doing?”

“I told you,” he says, “We’re going for a walk.” And then he’s leading her across the small room into the tiny hallway separating their bedrooms, where he starts walking them up and down the same few feet of space. She can’t help it, she dissolves into a fit of giggles after the third turn.

“Nice weather we’re having today, don’t you think?” he says, and she holds his arm with both hands and leans into his side, the sensation of laughter unfamiliar in her chest.

“You’re crazy.”

“So I’ve been told. Many times. By you, actually.”

“In the best way. I like it.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding pleased, and a little surprised. “I haven’t heard that before.”

She stops them in their tracks and steps in front of him. “You know I mean it like that every time, right?” she says. “If I ever—”

“I know, Scully,” he promises, and the smile in his voice convinces her that he’s telling the truth.

“Good. Okay.”

“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. “I’ve been told the view doesn’t change at all the further you go. Might be worth exploring.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The words slip out before she can stop them, and the happiness in her voice makes her blush. She didn’t mean to reveal that much.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “I know the feeling.”

She lowers her eyes and doesn’t know what to say. It’s a new problem. They’ve always had an easy back and forth, even their arguments often comforting in a way she never properly understood. Suddenly, everything seems filled with too much meaning. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on her part. It’s just that she remembers the look in his eyes when he visited her in the hospital after she woke up.

“Hey, Scully?”

She nods, reluctantly lifting her head when he puts two fingers under her chin. “What is it?”

“I just want you to know…” He pauses for a second. “I just want you to know that I’d rather be in here, bored out of my mind with you, than healthy and having fun out there without you.”

“I, um.” She frantically searches for something to say, but he’s standing here, his fingers caressing her cheek now, and he is so warm and smells so good, and she simply can’t remember how language works for the moment.

“It’s okay,” he assures her. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

“No,” she says quickly. “No, I understand. I… guess I feel the same way.”

“Oh.” There’s something so hopeful in his expression, and she gives him the tiniest nod, hoping he’ll understand.

And he does, of course he does.

She can’t remember any kiss ever feeling like this. His lips just rest against hers, lingering, unmoving, and she feels it all the way down to her toes. Her hands come up to cup his elbows and he takes her face firmly between his large, soft hands, and by the time he pulls back, the world has rearranged itself around them.

“Was that okay?” he asks, and she puts one palm over his rapidly beating heart.

“I think I just thought of a few things we can do while we’re stuck here,” she says.

“Yeah?” He slides his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. “Like what?”

She rises up onto her toes to kiss him again, and finds that another three weeks of this doesn’t sound quite so bad anymore.

#txf #the x files #msr #mulder and scully #fic #ficlet #poangpals #fluff and nothing but fluff

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admirationandromantics · 1 day ago

Text

Fast Paced Introduction

Here you go, another one!! Jesus Christ, the last two days in my inbox have been crazy, so please DON'T expect your stuff too soon, alright? Anyways, enjoy some more Chris, I think that's mainly what's in there, lol. Love him <3

Word count: 1,2k (Unedited)

im gonna be annoying af in ur inbox too since u wanna BLAST MINE HAHA Chris with a reader who's like insanely into him at first sight and is like almost Mike levels of flirting after talking for 5 mins i feel like his brain would fry so fast ( its me i have autism and tell people things within an hour of meeting and have no issue being flat with people HA ) -@nerd-space

“And this is Chris, who I’ve told you about” Emily introduces, and I look curiously up at the big blonde. His hair is messy, definitely not styled after he came out of the shower. A pretty smile spreads on his lips, as he lifts his arm, waiting for me to grab it.

“Nice to meet you” he says, a little dimple on his right chin. Oh god, this man is gorgeous, and Emily didn’t lie about him being my type. His arms are big, probably really muscular under that sweater he’s wearing. I take his hand, making sure not to shake it too hard. His grip is firm, holding just a second too long for my conscience to pick up on it. His watch reflects a little light as he shifts, my eyes going straight to it. A decent one, silver.

“Nice to meet you too, Emily didn’t mention you wore glasses” I say, immediately beating myself up. Glasses? What’s the point of that?

“Oh, um, yeah I do” he gets kinda nervous, and I rush to save myself.

“No, I mean, they look good, like really sexy and all of that. I mean to say that they look good on you, and she mentioned you, just not that and yeah” I babble, and Emily drags me away before I can continue.

“Girl, I’ve never seen you like that” she smiles, an arm around my shoulders.

“That’s because we party together, you only see the sexy and flirtatious me”

“Then get some alcohol into your blood, because if you talk like that again, I might have to leave you”

I gasp dramatically, hand going to my heart.

“You wouldn’t”

“Oh, but I would”

The rest of the night goes better, Mike flirting with absolutely anyone, Matt and Ashley talking, and Sam hanging out with someone I’ve never seen before. My confidence is on top again, finally able to put that awkward episode behind me. It was just a small mistake, nothing wrong at all. Considering how hot he is, anyone could’ve made that mistake. It probably happens to him daily.

He’s standing in a corner with Josh, who I’ve luckily met before, so starting a conversation wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. I walk over, keeping myself steady and lifting my boobs. Just a little.

“Hey, Joshy!” I greet, and his arms immediately go around me.

“Eyy, you came! Got a ride with Em, huh?”

“That’s right”

He turns to Chris, who has a small smile plastered on his lips. Oh, and he’s cute too. How many things were going to make me like him even more? Josh looks back and forth from us, and I turn my gaze to him.

“Have you met?”

“Yeah, Emily took the introduction” I explain, taking another sip of my drink.

“She did pretty fine by herself as well” Chris laughs, meeting my eyes. Oh, and he is playful too? He’s got no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

“Well, can’t help myself when he’s exactly my type” I comment, his cheeks reddening. Josh takes a small step back, looking over the blonde.

“You know what, I hadn’t realised it before, but he is your type”

“I know, right?”

“So why aren’t you two in this corner alone, making something happen?”

“Um, guys, I’m standing right here” Chris interrupts, hand behind his neck as he tries to form the words.

“Oh, we’re aware” Josh laughs, nudging my arm and taking a few steps away.

“Can I get you two anything to drink? A glass for the lady, a beer for my bro?”

“Yes, please!”

“I’ll be back in a bit!”

I turn to Chris again, seeing that he’s put down the previous beer. It’s probably empty. I can’t help my stare, eyes going over his arms and fingers.

“So” I begin, ripping myself from my trance. “How’s the night going?”

“Well, pretty good so far, it’s a bit hot here though” he says, finger going to the hem of the neck, letting some air in.

“You know, you could just take it off” I propose, making sure to add a slight suggestive tone.

“Oh, I wish, but I don’t have anything underneath”

“Even better”

His eyes widen, and I realise the gravity of my words again. Wow, how this man makes me fail, I’m usually quite good with words. I give him my glass, which he holds, and start working on his arms. I drag his sweater up, noticing the muscles and veins popping as I do. He’s right, he’s very warm. His skin is burning up, making me want to take off my clothes and snuggle up to him. I do the same with his other arm, all whilst he holds my drink.

“There you go, a bit better?”

“Very much, yeah” he smiles, cheeks still bright pink. I think about the way I’ve been behaving, getting to touch and talk to him the way I have. I need to ask the essential question.

“So, I should probably ask, do you have a girlfriend?”

“I would have to say no”

My eyes widen. He doesn’t? How hasn't this gorgeous man been caught yet?

“What, how come?”

“I guess it’s just not in the cards”

“You’ve got to be kidding, right? You’re a hot piece of meat, I’m struggling keeping my clothes on where I stand right now”

He laughs a little, hand coming up to cover his flushed face. I reach up, taking it away.

“No, stop, don’t cover yourself. I love you looking like this”

He stops laughing, our faces closing in as his eyes flutter. Oh gosh, he actually is the cutest man I’ve ever seen in my life. His mouth slightly opens as he’s closing in.

“In the middle of all of this, I forgot to tell you how beautiful you are” he whispers, thumb caressing my cheek as we draw nearer.

“Well, judging by how I see you, it bodies me well that you find me attractive”

He takes hold of my waist, quickly turning us around and making my back slam into the wall. Before I can catch my breath, his lips are on mine, roughly caressing and eating. He knows how to kiss too? This man is a fidget of my imagination, I just know it.

His hands wander to my waist, resting on my upper hips. I take hold of the back of his neck, nails carefully scratching, making him moan into the kiss. My other hand goes to his sweater, pulling him closer into me.

“If you’re gonna go for it, get a room, don’t make everyone watch” Josh suddenly says. And we both turn our attention to him. He’s standing there like a lost dog, a couple of drinks in each hand. I take a breath, fixing my hair quickly and reaching over to grab mine.

“Don’t worry Joshua, and thank you for the drink”

“Um, yeah, we were just trying something”

Josh smirks, eyebrows lowered in a sly manner as he leans back.

“Yeah man, that’s why her lipstick is smeared across your lips and neck” Oh shit, I went for his neck and I didn’t even notice? Maybe I’ve had a couple too many of these. I look down on the red drink, some different liquids mixed. Oh, fuck it. I drink the whole thing in one go, before grabbing Chris’s hand and walking further down the hallway. He turns a little to give Josh a wave.

“As I said, just trying something!”

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missdynamighttt · 4 hours ago

Note

heyy your last drabble was soo nice and fluff i loved itt if you arent busy can you please do a fic where katsuki is a a single father to a 15 year old girl (reader had passed away-dunno how) and he was cleaning the house when he found something inappropriate like drugs or sum? i wanna see how katsuki reacts...and maybe if you like some agnst since reader is dead ya know?

WHAT IS IT WITH ALL THESE ANGST REQUESTS... THIS MAKES MY CHRONIC LONELINESS WORSE... nyways, i hope this meets your expectations and i hope you like it 💜💜

the bakugo household was unusually quiet that afternoon, the kind of quiet that made katsuki's instincts tingle. his fifteen-year-old daughter, keiko, was out with friends, and he decided to take advantage of the empty house to do some cleaning.

katsuki had always been meticulous when it came to keeping the house in order. after losing you, he had thrown himself into caring for your daughter, determined to be both mother and father to her. the house was a reflection of that effort—tidy, organized, and filled with small touches of your memory.

he reached keiko's room, the door slightly ajar. stepping inside, katsuki began tidying up, folding clothes, and organizing her desk.

that’s when he noticed something unusual sticking out from under her bed.

curiosity—and a sense of parental duty—took over. he reached down, pulling out a small, hidden box. his heart dropped as he opened it to find a small bag of what unmistakably looked like drugs.

for a moment, katsuki just stared at it, disbelief washing over him. his hand clenched around the bag as a storm of emotions swirled inside him—shock, anger, fear, and an overwhelming sense of failure.

he sat down heavily on her bed, the weight of the discovery pressing down on him. his mind raced with questions like: how did this happen? why didn’t i see the signs? where did I go wrong?

the thought of keiko, his little girl, getting involved with something like this made his chest ache. memories of her as a bright-eyed toddler flashed before him, the laughter, the innocence. now, it felt like he was losing her too, and he couldn’t stop it.

anger bubbled up, not just at the situation, but at himself. he had promised to protect her, to be both mother and father, to guide her through life’s challenges. and now this?

he ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. "you’re better than this, katsuki," he told himself. "that little girl needs you. pull yourself together."

by the time keiko returned home, katsuki was sitting at the kitchen table, the small bag placed in front of him. the moment she walked in, she froze, her eyes widening as she saw the expression on her father’s face.

“dad…?” she started, her voice trembling.

“sit."

keiko sat down slowly, her gaze flickering between him and the bag.

“want to tell me what this is?” katsuki asked, his voice low but heavy with tension.

she opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. tears filled her eyes, and she looked away, ashamed.

katsuki took a deep breath, fighting the urge to explode. “kei, i need to know what’s going on. why do you have this?”

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “i didn’t use it, i swear. i was just…holding it for someone.”

his jaw clenched. “and you thought that was a good idea? do you have any idea how dangerous this is?”

“i know,” she sobbed. “i’m sorry, dad. i didn’t know what to do. they were pressuring me and it just—"

katsuki’s anger softened slightly at the sight of her tears, but the fear and worry remained.

“kei,” he said, his voice softer now, “i already lost your mom. i can't lose you too. we’ll get through this, but i need you to be honest with me, okay? you have to trust me.”

she nodded, wiping her eyes. “i trust you, dad. i-it's just, they were scaring me that if i didn't do it for them, i wouldn't be their friend anymore, and—"

katsuki sighs, looking at his daughter. her words... she almost reminded him of you. "i get it, kiddo. your... mom, was like that too."

keiko raised an eyebrow. its been awhile since he's mentioned you. he never really talked about you, but keiko knew he was thinking about you all the time. even if he didn't admit it.

"did... mom hide drugs for her friends, too.?"

katsuki's eyes narrow at her, clearly telling her it was way too early to joke about something like that. but, still.

"no. not that i know of, anyway. your mom was.." he sighed. "she tried her all too. to please her friends. even if they were shitty sometimes."

keiko raises an eyebrow, confused. "do you mean.. auntie mina and..?"

katsuki raises an eyebrow before exhaling, shaking her head. "no. as annoying your aunt is and the others are, no. its just.. old friends of your mom who didn't see her worth. took awhile before i helped her cut them off."

"what did.. mom's old friends do?"

"just..." he breathes, unsure how to go on. "lots of shitty things. always leaving her out, ordering her around..."

katsuki scoffs. "it was a dark place for her. even after i helped her out, she couldn't go to school without crying when she saw them."

katsuki sighs again, looking at her. "kei... as much as i love your mom, i don't want you to go through that too. she would hate that, okay?"

kei is taken aback by the new lore she finds out about her mom, not sure how to approach the multiple questions she has in her head.

"..what did mom do, when she cut them off? she didn't have friends back then?"

"yeah. your mom didn't have friends for awhile. eventually got into ua and met your uncles and aunts. and, well, me."

"what if.. what if i don't meet new friends, dad? what then?"

katsuki's chest panged a little at the thought of his daughter, all alone, with no one to talk to. but no. he wouldn't let that happen while he was here. but he knew a dad and a friend wasn't the same thing.

"kei... you have your whole life ahead of you. you're fifteen. you more than enough time to have friends."

keiko bites her bottom lip, unsure how to articulate her thoughts and worries to her father.

"dad... this is stupid, but... can we hug? its just... the last hug i ever got was probably when i was and—"

katsuki's heart squeezes at his daughters request, walking over to her daughter from the table and pulling him into a bear hug. it was awkward at first, but it eventually sizzled down into something bearable.

"even if you didn't have any friends, there's always izuku's girl and your uncle's twins... i know its not the same but i'm here for you, keiko. always."

keiko's eyes well up with tears again, hugging her father back. and as they stay there, katsuki felt relief despite knowing it wouldn’t be easy, but he was prepared to fight for his daughter’s future—no matter what it took.

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janiehellion · 6 hours ago

Text

Revved Up

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Learning to ride a motorcycle should’ve been simple. After all, you knew your way around bikes better than anyone in Alexandria—except Daryl Dixon. But one crash and one pissed-off redneck later, and you're stuck with him giving you a hands-on crash course in focus and control.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / MINOR INJURIES / VAGINAL FINGERING / CUNNILINGUS / SEMI-PUBLIC / ROUGH SEX / PAIN PLAY / MARKING

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.441

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S05E13—ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ & S05E14—ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first oneshot of 2025—and my longest yet! Sorry, not sorry, for the length; Daryl Dixon refused to stop until the lesson was fully drilled in. Hope it's worth the ride.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Out of everyone from the new group in Alexandria, he was the one who made the least effort to fit in. He was quiet and always looked ready to leave, like this wasn't a place to call home. He preferred to keep his distance, doing his own thing around the community, and that made him even more interesting to you.

Daryl Dixon was certainly different from the rest.

The first time you caught him working on the motorcycle and the parts he got from Aaron, in Aaron's and Eric's garage, something caught your attention. It wasn't just the way he moved, though the way his hands worked on the machine was something you couldn't ignore. No, it was more than that, and it pulled you in.

And for you?

The sound of metal and the smell of oil were all too familiar. You'd grown up around motorcycles and spent hours watching your old man work on his Harley Davidson most of the time, until you decided to become a mechanic after school, especially for motorcycles. That knowledge was something you didn't share with many others in Alexandria, but when you saw Daryl putting that motorcycle together piece by piece, you figured it might be a good way to start a conversation, if nothing else.

Sure, he kept to himself mostly, spending more time with his crossbow than with humans. But it made him stand out in a place where most people were getting used to living 'normally' again. And you didn't want anything normal. You wanted real.

That's what led you to the garage.

Daryl, of course, was bent over the motorcycle he'd been working on for some time now.

As you walked closer, you pretended to inspect his work. "What is this, a '92 Honda? Nice setup. Yamaha front end, though? Bit of a Frankenstein's monster, huh?"

That got his attention. "The hell ya know 'bout bikes?"

You shrugged, smirking at him. "What, do you think just 'cause I live in Alexandria, I can't tell a carburetor from a walker? Oh, please."

He hadn't spoken to you much since he arrived, but then again, Daryl didn't talk to anyone much. But you? You barely ever got a grunt in your direction since he'd been here.

"Looks like it's finally coming together," you started, trying to sound bored. It was a shitty way to break the ice, but small talk wasn't your thing after all.

Daryl didn't even look up. Grease covered his hands, and his current expression made him look like he'd rather punch you than say hello.

"Yeah, maybe if ya'd stop annoyin' my ass," he murmured, tightening a bolt.

"I'm only annoying the bike," you snorted. "And I'm making sure it doesn't fall apart the second you ride it out of the community."

That earned you a glare. A quick one. And you held his stare for that moment, refusing to look away.

"So yer always this annoyin'?" He shot back, wiping his hands on a rag and finally standing up to his full height.

"You tell me. So what is it? This… special kind of build?" You asked, gesturing to the motorcycle. You had to admit, it did look quite nice.

His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be a little surprised about your curiosity. "Do ya really know bikes?"

You shrugged, playing it cool. "Enough to know that this isn't a normal setup, but that's just personal taste, you know?"

"It'll work."

"Sure, until it doesn't," you continued with a smirk. "But hey, it's your funeral. Or someone else's if that thing gives out mid-run."

He grunted, clearly not in the mood to admit you might have a point.

"Still, not bad for what you had to work with. Must've been a pain in the ass to track down some of the other parts," you moved closer, getting a better look at the setup. "But I heard Aaron's been helping you out. He's good with scavenging stuff. Though, I bet he didn't know half of what you needed."

That got a grunt of agreement from Daryl. "He ain't bad. Jus' don't need anyone watchin' when I'm workin'."

"Noted." You raised your hands, but you didn't back off. Instead, you crouched next to the machine, inspecting the details up close. You could feel Daryl's eyes on you, probably wondering what the hell you were doing.

After a moment of silence, you looked up at him again. "You ever really gonna take this thing out, or are you just building it for the hell of it?"

Daryl looked over to the garage door as if he was thinking whether or not to answer. Finally, he sighed. "Gonna use it. Aaron wants me on the road, recruitin' and all. Need somethin' fast."

"Yeah? And what if you end up with a flat tire out there? Wait, that might not even be a problem, since it kind of looks like you're building yourself a time machine there," you answered, standing up. "But you're gonna need more than just duct tape and spit to get this thing running."

Daryl's eyes narrowed again. "Told ya I know what I'm doin'," he snapped, his hand tightening around the wrench like he was itching to throw it at you.

But you weren't about to be ignored that easily. "You've really got some interesting mismatched parts here. Yamaha forks on a Honda… Look, I'm just saying that you might wanna check the suspension before you ride outta here. Unless you're aiming to get launched off it."

"Gonna manage."

You snorted. "Sure, you will. But hey, if you ever feel like teaching someone else how to ride, I wouldn't mind learning. I mean, someone's gotta be around to save your ass when that thing tries to kill you."

Daryl shot you a look, his jaw clenching slightly, but this time, he just stared at you like you were the most confusing person he'd ever seen.

"Ya wanna learn how to ride?" His voice sounded annoyed, like the idea was somehow offensive to him, but there was also some slight disbelief to be heard as if he wasn't sure why you'd ask him of all people. "Ain't got time for that. Got 'nough problems without babysittin'."

"Come on," you pressed further. "What's the harm? Or is the asshole routine just for me? Besides, if you ever crash, I promise I'll write you some kinda eulogy. Something about how you died doing what you loved—which is looking perpetually pissed off."

You could've sworn you saw the slightest smirk, but Daryl quickly busied himself with the motorcycle, like he hadn't shown you might really have a point with your tips.

Keeping your voice casual, you stepped back. "Let me know if you change your mind," you continued, brushing off your knees. "Might be fun."

With that, you gave him one last smirk and turned around, leaving him to think about whatever he thought of you.

You spent the next couple of days trying not to think about Daryl Dixon, which was about as easy as trying not to notice a walker biting your arm. But despite your best efforts to act like it was no big deal, the thought of riding that motorcycle—and more specifically, him teaching you—kept making its way into your head.

Daryl didn't say anything about your offer for those few days, too. Hell, he didn't say much of anything, really. He'd pass by you in Alexandria, his crossbow by his side, always looking like someone just spit in his drink. But you had gotten used to the silent treatment by now, so you didn't let it get to you... much.

Indeed, it didn't take long to figure out that convincing Daryl Dixon to teach you how to ride a motorcycle was like trying to herd cats—but grumpy, feral ones… with knives.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself near the garage again, and you hadn't planned on seeing him, but let's face it, you were intrigued. And there he was—still working on the motorcycle and still looking like it personally insulted him.

However, the thing looked all patched together with scavenged pieces and maybe a little bit of wishful thinking. It had a certain look to it, like it wanted to run off into the wild and never come back.

Daryl didn't even move. He didn't look your way. He just kept wrenching something near the seat before he glared at you like you'd asked him to solve a math problem.

"Thought I'd come by and bless you with my knowledge once more," you announced, smirking as you leaned against the workbench.

Daryl only rolled his eyes—actually rolled them—like he couldn't believe he had to put up with you again. "Ain't nobody asked for that."

"Yeah, well, nobody asked for that bike to look like it's held together with a plea and a prayer, but here we are," you shot back, leaning forward slightly. "'Livin' on a Prayer,' in fact."

He grunted, shoving the wrench into the toolbox with force. "The hell do ya know 'bout motorcycles, anyway?"

"I do know motorcycles! I told you, didn't I? And that thing," you pointed to the machine, "is one bad pothole away from turning into scrap metal."

Daryl scoffed, clearly not a fan of having his work criticized, especially by someone who, in his eyes, hadn't earned the right to say something about it. "It'll hold. 'S a good bike."

"Sure, sure," you said, grinning at him. "But if you're so confident, why don't you accept my offer? Teach me how to ride. Let's see if this thing here can handle it."

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was thinking about his options. You could practically see the gears running in his head—whether to shut you down and tell you to piss off or give in just to prove you wrong.

"Ya serious 'bout this?"

"Dead serious," you said, holding his stare. "What? Are you afraid?"

His nostrils flared in the way they did when he seemed to be two seconds from snapping at you, but instead, he just turned back to his work. "Ya wanna learn? Fine. But don't come cryin' to me when ya hurt yer ass."

"Oh, don't worry, Dixon. If I hurt my ass, I'll make sure you hurt yours, too," you said, biting back a laugh as you straightened up. "But I swear, this thing's gonna be your mid-life crisis. What's next, leather pants and chaps?"

He showed you one of those stares again—half-annoyed, half-confused—like he wasn't sure if he should bother responding or pretend you didn't exist.

"Ya done?"

"Done? I'm here to save you from yourself, Daryl. You keep this up, and in a week, you're gonna be having a mullet and wearing a crop top."

He stared at you like you'd grown an extra head. "What the hell're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Mid-life crisis, Daryl. First, it's the bike. Then, it's questionable fashion choices. Next thing you know, you're coming back from a run with a Corvette and crying over Bon Jovi ballads. I'm just here to make sure it won't happen."

"Ain't havin' no damn crisis."

You smirked. "Uh-huh. That's what they all say. Just remember, I offered to help. I can't wait to see you when you're rocking those chaps and a bandana."

"So, ya still wanna learn to ride or not?" His voice sounded definitely pissed off.

You raised your eyebrows, as if in shock. "Oh my, was that an offer in return? From you? I'm touched, really. Let me just—" You pretended to wipe a tear away from your eye and sob. "This moment's very special to me."

"Shut up," he grumbled, but his voice gave way that he almost sounded amused.

"I'm just saying, this is progress," you said. "Next thing I know, we'll be exchanging friendship bracelets."

Daryl didn't respond right away, but you thought you had seen enjoyment, maybe? Or irritation. It was hard to tell with him. Either way, he was back on his feet now, pulling the motorcycle upright and kicking the stand back. Soon enough, the familiar sound of the engine made its way through the garage, and damn if it didn't make your pulse race just a little.

"Get on."

His sudden words made you blink at him in surprise. "Wait, like… right now? Where's the foreplay, Dixon? At least buy me a drink first."

"Nah, when I'm dead. Yeah, right now," he snapped, unable to believe you were even asking.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, swinging your leg over the motorcycle with as much confidence as you could have at that moment. The seat seemed normal, but it still felt bigger than you expected.

Daryl stepped beside you, his arms crossed as he watched you. "Ya know how to start?"

"Of course I do," you said, reaching for the handlebars.

You were halfway through fumbling with the throttle at first when Daryl's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. "That ain't how ya do it," he growled as he leaned in. "First lesson: This here's the throttle—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what a throttle is," you interrupted, waving him off. "I'm not a complete idiot. I could turn this thing into scrap and piece it back together if you wanted me to, so..."

His eyes narrowed. "Then maybe shut up and listen."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You couldn't help it—pissing him off was just too easy.

"Clutch on the left, throttle on the right," he continued, his fingers tapping the handlebars. "Brake's here. Don't yank it like an idiot." He then gave the machine a once-over. "Ya pull the clutch, twist the throttle slowly. Too much, and yer gonna stall it."

"Okay, understood. Show me."

Daryl let out a frustrated sigh but soon moved behind you, reaching around to grip the handlebars. His strong chest pressed against your back, and you immediately forgot how to breathe.

"Ya gotta ease into it," he instructed while his fingers guided yours on the throttle.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure, ease into it," you mumbled, trying to sound unimpressed. "And what happens if I don't ease into it? The whole thing explodes?"

"Nah. Ya gonna wipe out an' eat dirt," he shot back, his lips showing a bit of a smirk. "But maybe ya'll learn faster that way."

"Yeah, well, I've eaten worse," you answered, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Besides, I doubt you've ever taught anyone how to ride before. What if you're just a terrible teacher?"

He huffed against your neck. "Ain't teachin' ya much. Now, idle it forward."

You followed his instructions, twisting the throttle just enough to get the engine purring beneath you. The vibration went through your legs, and despite yourself, you had to admit it felt very, very good.

"Okay, now what?" You asked, trying to sound bored even though the adrenaline was starting to kick in.

"Now ya balance," Daryl said, his voice neutral like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Try not to fall over." You could feel his eyes on you, judging every movement you made. "Quit messin' 'round. Friction Zone is how ya idle forward."

You shot him a look but did as he said, trying not to stall the motorcycle. For a second, you wobbled, and you swore you heard Daryl whisper something—probably betting on how soon you'd crash.

But you didn't. You steadied yourself. It was a weird feeling—kind of thrilling, kind of terrifying.

"Well, look at that," you said, showing him a grin. "Didn't fall over. Guess you're not the worst teacher after all."

"Jus' keep 'em hands on the bars," he instructed, his voice rather patient—well, as patient as Daryl ever got.

You did as he said, gripping the handlebars harder, trying not to think about how close you were to him. His smell wasn't exactly unpleasant. In fact, it was kind of… intoxicating.

Not that you'd ever admit that to him out loud.

"Fine, so what's next? Do I just rev it up and hope for the best?"

Daryl snorted, clearly unimpressed with you being unable to wait. "Ya listen, or yer gonna end up on yer ass."

"You know, Daryl, I don't usually take threats during lessons, but I'll make an exception for you."

His grip tightened on the handlebars, and you thought he might just leave you there. But he didn't. "Don't jerk the damn throttle, woman, or yer gonna take off too fast."

"Throttle, got it. Don't jerk it off. Guess I'll save that one for later." You wiggled your eyebrows, even though he couldn't see it.

Daryl stiffened, grumbling something you didn't quite catch, though it definitely wasn't a compliment.

"C'mon now, twist it—slowly," he ordered.

You followed his lead, the motorcycle easing forward just a bit as you worked the throttle.

"There ya go," Daryl said, his voice sounding a bit less harsh now that you weren't about to play around. "Gotta ease into it."

"Wow, who knew you could be so supportive?" You teased. "Almost makes me think you care."

He grunted. "Jus' don't wanna pick yer ass up off the ground."

"Got it, got it. Now, let's see if I can actually ride this thing without killing myself."

Daryl's hand moved to the clutch, his fingers touching yours as he guided you through the motions. You weren't sure if it was the machine or him, but your heart was beating much faster than usual. Maybe it was both. Either way, you were in for one hell of a ride.

His hand was warm, calloused, and—despite everything—comforting as he guided you out of the garage.

"Okay, slow down a bit, but not too much," he instructed, his voice almost a growl. The way he said it made you shiver, but you refused to let it show. You could be cool about this, right?

"Or I could just go full throttle and see how far I can fly through the streets of Alexandria," you laughed back.

"Real funny," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Jus' don't fuck up. Y'ain't flyin' nowhere. Ya gotta keep it steady."

"Right, no jerking off," you said, moving your head to the side just enough to glance at him. "That's usually my motto, you know, but I can make an exception for you regarding that as well."

"Focus. Don't push it," he warned. "Ya gotta keep yer focus on the bike, not me."

"Really? I thought you were my main distraction." You leaned back a little. "Sure, I'll focus. But I'm also pretty good at multitasking." As you worked the throttle again, you felt a rush of adrenaline. "So, what happens if I actually do fall? You gonna come to my rescue?"

Daryl didn't answer immediately. Instead, he loosened his grip on the handlebars, his body tense next to you. "Ya get back up. Everyone falls. 'S what ya do afterward that matters."

"Profound," you smirked. "You should start writing poetry! 'When life knocks you down, just get back on your bike.' Classic wisdom."

"Shut up and drive."

The motorcycle moved as you used the throttle too hard, and you fought to regain control, laughing nervously. "Shit! Maybe I should have listened to that part about not jerking it!"

He sighed, not bothering to hide his amusement this time. "Ya keep talkin', and ya might jus' convince me to kick ya off myself."

"Promises, promises," you smirked, adrenaline rushing through you, making everything feel a bit more exciting.

He grumbled something again—probably another insult—but he didn't try to stop you. Your movements weren't exactly smooth, but it was a start.

"You're a terrible teacher, by the way," you soon said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Good," Daryl answered. "Means ya won't ask me to do this shit again."

You were just getting into the rhythm, feeling the motorcycle beneath you and getting the hang of it, when you heard the sound of footsteps getting closer behind you.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Aaron's voice destroyed the moment, and you felt Daryl tense near you.

"Shit," he groaned, practically gritting his teeth. You tried to process what was happening as you got off the seat, the way Daryl's body stiffened and the smirk faded from your lips.

"Oh, nothing, just a little driving lesson," you announced, trying to keep going despite the sudden stop. "Motto: 'Try Not to Die, but If You Do, It Ain't My Problem.'"

Aaron laughed, walking closer to you both. "So, it's finally finished?" He looked at the machine, inspecting the mix of parts that somehow came together into something that resembled a proper motorcycle.

"Jus' 'bout," Daryl replied dryly.

Aaron raised an eyebrow, looking from you to Daryl, who was already stepping away from him and you.

"That's great. Looks like you're making some great progress," Aaron continued, stepping closer.

"Ain't needin' ya to worry 'bout that," Daryl grumbled, the annoyance in his voice unmistakable. "Lesson's over."

"Wait, what? You can't just—"

"Don't push it," he snapped, shooting you a look that said he was done. "Ya wanna learn, ya have to find someone else."

You blinked, stunned as he walked away with the motorcycle by his side. "Daryl, stop!"

"Forget 'bout it," he called back, almost like his voice belonged to a different person. "Y'ain't ready."

Your frustration boiled over, and you turned to Aaron, arms crossed. "Thanks for ruining my lesson, by the way. Just what I needed today—more interruptions."

Aaron frowned, glancing between you and Daryl again as he watched him walk away. "What did you expect? He's still new here. Trying to keep his distance from the rest of us."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't need to be an asshole about it," you snapped. "I was getting somewhere!"

"You have to understand that the whole group has been through a lot. Daryl's not always going to be open with people," he explained, but it didn't help your mood.

"I get that, but I was just trying to learn something! Guess it's my fault for thinking he could actually teach me without being a complete asshole about it."

"Maybe give it some time?" Aaron suggested, his voice softer now, sounding more sympathetic. "He'll come around."

"Maybe," you sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "But just when I thought I could finally get him to smile and to talk, you pull this."

Aaron's expression was by now somewhere between concern and curiosity as you huffed, glaring at Daryl walking away.

"Really, Aaron…" You continued, throwing your hands in the air. "You couldn't have waited five goddamn minutes longer to come and ruin my day? You see me finally making some progress, and you think, 'Oh, hey! The perfect time to interrupt!'"

Aaron raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't mean to ruin anything. I didn't know you two were having... whatever that was."

"Whatever that was?" You repeated, your voice rising. "It was a goddamn driving lesson! Or, at least, it was supposed to be before you came along with your good intentions and your bad timing!"

Aaron frowned, the tone in his voice still kind, but he wasn't backing down. "Look, I was just checking in because I heard the sound of the engine. I thought Daryl wanted to head out, and I only wanted to see if he's done with his work on the bike. I didn't realize you were both so busy."

"Busy?" You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head. "You know what? Forget it. Next time I'm about to get Daryl Dixon to do something other than grunt or skin dead animals on the porch, I'll write you a goddamn note so you don't fuck it up. Now he's all pissed off and stomping away with my only chance at learning how to ride a damn bike and not kill myself."

"I doubt he's mad at you," Aaron responded. "Daryl's complicated. Like the rest of the group. They're still very new here. And you were the same when I found you and brought you here. But you're probably closer to getting through to him than anyone else."

You snorted. "Yeah, sure. 'Cause nothing says 'bonding' and 'getting to know each other' like storming off with his damn Franken-bike in a hurry. Really fucking touching."

Aaron smiled, squeezing your shoulder. "Just think about it."

You exhaled loudly, putting your hands on your hips. "Sounds like it's from a fortune cookie. Thanks for nothing."

With that, Aaron simply walked off, leaving you alone.

Soon, some days had passed since your lesson with Daryl. Days that quickly turned annoying when you realized he was avoiding you like you were the last slice of cold pizza at a party.

It felt weird.

Like, ridiculously weird.

And it didn't help that every time you tried to casually walk into the garage or catch him before he went on a supply run, he was either nowhere to be found or suddenly too busy to talk. You even half-expected to see a 'Do Not Disturb' sign near the bike.

It wasn't like you were stalking him—okay, maybe a little—but it was hard to stop thinking about him.

"Should I ask for him? Should I knock on the garage door? Maybe he's just sleeping? Or dead?" You laughed at the last thought. With Daryl, it wasn't a real possibility.

Finally, you sighed and decided to call it a day. "Alright, Daryl Dixon, you win," you said to yourself, kicking the dirt as you turned to leave.

But just as you made it halfway down the street, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, followed by a clink of metal that made your heart race. You turned, and there he was—finally. Daryl Dixon, leaning against the side of the garage, arms crossed, his eyes hidden behind his hair, and with a cigarette in one hand.

Oh no, you're not getting away this time.

"Been hiding from me, huh?" You asked as soon as you reached him. "Gonna run off again? Or maybe you've just been too busy?" You faked a yawn, your eyes narrowing. "Or hiding from the bike lesson, maybe?"

Daryl simply scoffed, the only sign of life you got out of him as you stood a few inches from him. His eyes looked down, clearly not thrilled to see you standing there, but you didn't give a damn.

You put your hands on your hips, pretending to inspect him like he was the most boring human in Alexandria. "Hey… You did promise, you know? I didn't just imagine that part now, did I?"

"Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout."

You raised an eyebrow, your smile growing wider. "Oh? Sure feels like it. Guess you finally realized you're not as good of a teacher as you think."

Daryl sighed, sounding not only frustrated but... pissed off? Maybe both?

"Don't need to explain shit to ya," he grumbled in return.

You grinned, shrugging. "Well, if you're busy doing... whatever it is you do when you're not being an asshole, I guess I'll just go back to trying to learn from someone else." You turned to leave, but not without looking back over your shoulder again. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to teach me again."

That got him. He pushed himself off the garage, taking a few steps closer.

"You promised, Daryl. Or is that just another thing you like to say and not follow through with? You were gonna teach me. Not that I care; I'm sure I'll learn from someone else... unless you finally stop being an ass," you taunted, still looking over your shoulder at him.

Daryl's hand shot out before you could get too far, catching your arm in a grip that could've cracked a tree in half if he wanted it to. He was definitely pissed.

With a growl, he yanked you back toward him. "Fine. I'll teach ya. But not here. Not in Alexandria." He released your arm. "Meet me by the gates. Tomorrow, at dawn."

Without waiting for a response, Daryl walked back inside, leaving you standing there with a grin.

The next morning, you woke up early, a little earlier than you'd planned, but that was the least of your problems. There was a knot in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of, not even with a few stretches or by putting on your clothes.

This wasn't just another run. It wasn't just another 'do this or die trying' kinda deal. No, this was different. And for some reason, you were extremely nervous. What was he gonna do? What was he thinking?

You threw on your jacket, tied your boots like they were the last thing you'd ever do, and then... you hesitated.

What the hell was wrong with you?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself out the door and towards the gates of Alexandria. When you finally made it, you saw him. There he was—Daryl Dixon, standing there like he was waiting for the bus, except minus the whole 'bus' part. The motorcycle was leaned up against the walls, and he was staring straight ahead as if you were the last person he wanted to see right now.

"Well, damn. You did show up. Thought maybe you'd hide behind that attitude of yours for another day," you said, taking your time to walk up to him, not quite giving a damn whether he was ready for you or not.

But Daryl didn't even acknowledge you. He just flicked his cigarette away and gave you a look that could probably kill.

He then grunted, clearly not amused. "Ain't here to talk."

You looked at him, smirking a little. "Oh, I thought we were here to talk. 'Cause last time I checked, you were too busy to teach me anything useful. Guess you did promise, isn't that right?" You continued and raised an eyebrow. "So... what's the deal, huh? You just gonna stand there, or are we gonna start this driving lesson?"

He was still giving you that dead-eyed stare like you just asked him to swallow down rusty nails. The way Daryl was looking at you, all calm but irritated at the same time—it made everything weirder. But now, you had no choice. You had to get on that machine if you wanted to learn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to him after he took the motorcycle and got onto it himself. "Get on."

You hesitated before swinging your leg over it as well, the movement too awkward to be smooth. There was no denying it—there was a whole lot of you that wasn't exactly eager to be pressed up against him.

You bit your lip but tried to keep your cool. "Alright, I'm on."

Daryl didn't answer. He just started the engine, his hands gripping the handlebars, and that was when you had to settle into place—right behind him. You were close now—way too close—and that knot in your stomach was only tightening itself. You couldn't help it. You had to steady yourself, right? And as much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself sliding your hands down, almost instinctively. But... it wasn't enough.

And it wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair. The way he was so broad, strong, and so very close made it impossible to think straight. Your palms were sweating, and it wasn't because you were nervous about falling off. It was him. Just him. And God, it was infuriating, letting your thoughts run wild.

Why does he have to smell so good? Why can't he just be an asshole and not… this?

Your hands moved. Lower.

You didn't mean to, but... there you were. Your fingers grabbed his hips, right there in front of you and so, so very close. He was warm, so warm, and you couldn't not notice it, even if you tried. But you weren't even trying.

Oh, no. Don't. Don't do it. Not now...

But your hands stayed right there. Resting on his hips. You couldn't help it.

God, he feels good. Warm. Strong. Hell, if I slide even lower, maybe I can make him feel me, too. What if I just—

You quickly cut your thoughts off, but the temptation was there. It was stupid. It's Daryl, you reminded yourself, though it didn't make the racing of your heart in your chest any less intense.

"Quit it. Jus' hold on," he suddenly said, still keeping his focus on the road in front of you.

You snapped out of it, blinking as though you were just pulled back from the edge of a cliff.

"Me?" You shot back, trying to sound as neutral as possible, hoping he didn't feel the way your heart was pounding. "You're the one acting like you've got a stick up your ass. Don't act like I'm the problem here."

Daryl didn't respond—again. His hands tightened on the handlebars, and you felt him move slightly on the motorcycle. You wondered if he could feel the way you were still pressed against him, too. If he noticed, he didn't give any sign, but hell, you weren't sure whether that was calming you down or just making everything worse.

Your hands were still grabbing his hips. Still low. Still in the danger zone. And every second you stayed on that seat that close behind him, the more you realized just how close you were to crossing a line you couldn't uncross, too.

Just stop touching him like that. For God's sake, control yourself...

But it was too late, wasn't it? Your hands were already doing what they wanted, sliding ever so slightly as Daryl revved the engine beneath you. And as the machine roared further and you felt the vibration between your legs, you couldn't deny it—you were holding on tight...

And shit, you hated yourself for it, but you couldn't think straight.

Your hands—those traitorous, slightly trembling hands—started to move further without you even trying. At first, you could feel the hardness of his muscles under his shirt. You didn't mean to, but your fingers couldn't resist anymore.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You kept telling yourself you weren't like this, but the warmth of his body in front of you, the vibrations of the motorcycle—the whole situation—it was clearly messing with your head.

And then your fingers touched the waistband of his pants. Your mind started spiraling.

Fuck, stop it.

But your hands were moving still, just a little further, and before you could catch yourself, you were dangerously close to slipping one whole hand past the button of his pants.

Why does this feel so fucking good? So right? No! This is so wrong!

You knew you shouldn't be doing this. You were driving yourself crazy just being this close to him. You should pull away and act like nothing happened. But the thought of him—of the way he looked, the way he smelled—it was too much.

Should I really keep going? You wondered, heart racing. What if I just slide my hand inside and just feel him?

The idea was so sudden it made your stomach growl, but you couldn't stop imagining it. The way he'd react—if he'd stop the motorcycle and throw you off, or if he'd just let you have your way.

But your hand froze at the button of his pants, resting there, barely touching it. You hated how much you wanted to go further, how much you needed to.

Pull back. Move your hand away. Stop thinking about how strong he is.

The way his muscles moved under your fingers, how he wasn't even saying one thing to stop you. Did he want this? Did he feel it too? You hated how much you wanted to find out.

But Daryl kept driving, focusing on the surroundings and possible dangers as you left Alexandria.

Why isn't he stopping me?

He was tense, but that was it. No words, no warnings. And that drove you wild.

Maybe he wants this as much as I do.

Your mind was on fire now, and you wanted him so badly, it felt like your whole body was about to explode. And the weirdest part? You weren't sure you even cared anymore if this was wrong.

If you don't stop me, I swear I'll—

You didn't finish that thought, and as soon as Daryl pulled off the road and into a clearing surrounded by trees, the motorcycle came to a stop.

"This'll do," he said, getting off it and motioning for you to follow.

You stumbled off, your legs still shaky from holding yourself together.

Right now, you wanted to hate him. To scream at him. But the truth was, you were more pissed at yourself. You were supposed to be learning how to ride a motorcycle, not imagining what it would feel like to be all over him and…

No. Stop it. Get your shit together.

"Alright, what's next?" You asked, doing your best to sound casual even as your heart was still racing. "You gonna teach me how not to eat dirt or just let me ride it?"

Daryl glared at you, one eyebrow raised like you were the one making this complicated. "Jus' pay attention."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Sure, 'cause that's been working out for me so far." You crossed your arms, a little too aware of how your body felt like it was overheating.

Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him...

He was already gesturing to the motorcycle again, explaining the controls all over. "Clutch, brake, throttle—all that stuff."

You nodded, doing your best to stay focused despite how goddamn awkward you felt.

Focus; you can do this.

You glanced at him and caught the way his hands moved around near you, the way his fingers got hold of the throttle like he was born to do this.

"Ya won't wreck it if ya listen."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves. "Yeah… 'if,' but okay."

Daryl took a step closer, the space between you suddenly feeling way too small. "Stop makin' jokes, and start payin' some real attention."

You could feel how he stared you down, even without looking into his eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you were blushing—hard.

Shit, shit, shit.

He then smirked, only a little, and you wanted to punch him for it. Or kiss him. You weren't sure. Either way, you tugged at the collar of your shirt like it was too tight, but there was no escaping it.

Daryl was watching you, though his smirk was already gone again. "Jus' sit down on it. Let's see if ya can at least do that alone while out here, without fallin' over."

You had to swallow hard.

Just get on, just get on, and don't think about him.

Your mind was screaming at you to stop acting like you wanted to crawl all over him, but your body was betraying you.

And Daryl for sure wasn't even trying to make it easier, and all you could do was grit your teeth and pray you didn't lose it.

The first time you tried to balance the motorcycle, you almost tipped it over, but Daryl quickly got a hold of it—and you—before you really ate dirt.

"Goddamn it," he groaned, yanking you upright and keeping the motorcycle steady. "Yer fightin' the damn thing instead o' drivin' it. Quit makin' it harder for yerself."

You shot him a glare but didn't respond, figuring it was easier to just get the lesson over with. This time, he stepped in behind you, hands landing on your waist like he was holding onto a ticking time bomb. His grip tightened just enough to make you aware of his presence, but you weren't going to let him throw you off balance.

"Ease up on the damn clutch," he grumbled. "Slowly. Ya ain't in a damn hurry."

By the third or fourth try, you were starting to get the hang of it. You made it a few feet without the motorcycle wobbling like it had been possessed. You didn't even stall it this time.

"Look at me!" You grinned over your shoulder at him all triumphant as you stopped at a treeline. "I'm basically a stunt double at this point! Wanna try jumping flaming buses next?"

Daryl shot you that look again. The one that made you want to throw something at him. "Nah, yer bein' an amateur stunt double wantin' to set yerself on fire… 'cause ya can't keep yer hands to yerself."

You ignored him.

You had it now. You totally had it.

But who needed to play it safe when you could push this lesson to the limit and prove yourself?

You twisted the throttle again but felt a sudden rush of speed. "Shit!" You screamed from far away. "Fuck!"

"What the hell are ya doin'?!" Daryl shouted before you were hurtling forward at fast speed, your stomach dropping as it made everything around you blurry in sight. You had no idea how to stop in the heat of the moment without throwing yourself off it, and that realization hit you hard. You were in panic mode now, and trying to steer only made it worse.

"Daryl? A little help here, please!" You screamed, gripping the handlebars as your hands shook.

"Hold on!" Daryl yelled, but his warning was already too late. The front wheel hit something—a big rock? A tree stump? You didn't even see it. All you knew was that the motorcycle lurched like a wild animal wanting to throw you off its back.

For a moment, you were sure you were about to die. But Daryl wasn't about to let that happen. He lunged forward, grabbing you and yanking you off the seat just before it tipped completely and threw you off.

You and Daryl went down, both of you slamming into the ground hard. You landed on top of him—completely on top of him, with your thighs pressed against his hips and your upper body crashing against his chest.

You knew you fucked up, but his expression only made it worse. The slight pain in your body was nothing compared to the humiliation you felt. All you could do was catch your breath and stare at him.

And Daryl was flat-out pissed. His face was full of rage, and he was breathing hard from the crash. He shoved you off him, his hands on your shoulders as he stood up.

"What the hell were ya thinkin'!?" His eyes were practically burning holes through you. "I told ya to slow the hell down and focus! Ya don't listen for shit!"

You didn't want to admit that he was right, that you'd been very reckless. "Well, maybe you should've taught me how to actually ride instead of standing there like a statue and just barking orders!"

Daryl's hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

He wasn't just angry.

He was livid.

You were both breathing fast now, adrenaline still running through your veins. "And maybe I'm just a fast learner, okay?" You continued.

Daryl looked at you like he was about to rip you in half. "Yer not a fast learner; yer a damn idiot! And now I gotta drag yer dumb ass back!"

He grabbed the motorcycle and swung his leg over it with a grunt. "Get the fuck on," he growled in frustration.

You glared at him for a moment, but you weren't about to argue. You had to get home. You had no choice but to follow him.

Throwing your leg over the seat, you settled behind him. You couldn't even look up now. Every time you did, your stomach hurt in a way that made no sense. The anger, the shame—it was all so degrading. You wanted to argue. You really did. But you were too embarrassed, and your body was too sore to keep up any fight.

Daryl started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life under you. As he sped down the road, you couldn't help but notice how tense his body still was. Every muscle in his back seemed to be stiff. And he didn't say a word anymore. Not a single word as you rode back toward Alexandria in silence.

His hands gripped the handlebars with such force, you swore the motorcycle might crack in half under the pressure if he kept it up.

You were pissed as well. Pissed at yourself for fucking up and pissed at him for making you feel all... this. You hated that you couldn't read him, hated how he could just shut everything out like that, and especially for making you feel something you didn't want to feel.

Once back at Alexandria, the garage door had barely been shut when Daryl's frustration exploded. He was still breathing hard from the ride, and he hadn't pushed you away since you'd now gotten back, but the way he was glaring at you said enough.

He took a step toward you, pushing you back a little. "Crashed my damn bike…"

"I didn't wreck it, Daryl," you argued. "It's fine!"

"Fine?" He repeated. "That's what ya call near splittin' yer skull open?"

"I didn't crash on purpose!" You shot back, the frustration boiling over. "I'm not dumb!"

He let out a mean laugh, his eyes narrowing. "Coulda fooled me, dumbass!"

"You're the one all trembling here, not me!" You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto whatever bit of defiance was left. "It was an accident, Daryl," you continued, glaring right back at him. "It's not like I'm trying to be your damn stunt double!"

He scoffed, not buying your excuse. "Bullshit. Ya were pushin' it, tryin' to prove somethin', weren't ya? Ya coulda gotten yerself killed!"

Maybe he was right; maybe you had been showing off, but why bother with giving him the satisfaction and letting him know that it was the truth?

"What's your problem, Dixon? It isn't like I destroyed the damn thing," you scoffed.

He shot you a glare. "Problem is, ya don't think. Out there, one screw-up ain't jus' a scratch—it's the difference 'tween comin' back or not comin' back at all!"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please! Spare me the PSA! It isn't like I don't know how this shit works! We're all one wrong turn away from dead anyway! What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," he growled, "is ya don't get to pull that shit with my bike!"

His finger shot out, pointing toward the side of the motorcycle. "Look at this," he growled. "Ya see that?"

You glanced where he was pointing and shrugged. "What, a couple of scratches? Boo-fucking-hoo! Rub some dirt with your spit on it; it'll be fine!"

"Couple o' scratches?" His voice rose, and he bent down to run a hand along the damaged part. "Ya know how I worked on this, ain't that right? To get it runnin' smooth?"

He crouched, looking at the machine like he was inspecting a wounded animal. "Look."

"What?"

"Look," he snarled once more, pointing his finger at the gas tank.

Reluctantly, you stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. The scratches weren't as bad as you'd expected—some scuffed paint and a tiny dent, hardly catastrophic.

"Oh no," you pretended to be shocked and threw your hands up. "It's ruined! Better put it out of its misery!"

Daryl turned around, staring at you in disbelief and anger. "That funny to ya?"

"A little," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. "Newsflash, Dixon! This is a hunk of metal. It'll survive!"

His jaw clenched, and he stood up so fast you stumbled back. "Ain't the damn point," he snapped, stepping closer.

"Then what is the point?" You demanded in return.

"The point is," he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "ya don't listen. Yer always so goddamn dumb, thinkin' ya know better—"

"I do know better!" You interrupted him. "I could rebuild this bike with my eyes closed! Hell, I could build you a new one from… a scratch!"

Daryl's hands dropped to his sides, his breathing fast as he stared at you. His eyes looked down to your arms, and you followed his line of sight, realizing for the first time that you were trembling.

His eyes softened, just for a second. "Ya hurt?"

"No," you lied, crossing your arms to hide the shaking.

Daryl huffed, and his frustration was boiling over again. "Bullshit."

He moved toward you, closing the space between you as he grabbed you by the arm. You flinched but didn't pull away. His grip tightened, pulling you back toward the motorcycle you'd nearly wrecked.

"Get on," he growled, holding you still.

You froze, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Get on the fuckin' bike," he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

You shook your head. "You're out of your damn mind."

But you didn't fight it when he shoved you over to the seat, guiding you like you were weighing nothing at all. You hadn't expected this—his touch and his obvious anger.

But it wasn't just the crash. No. It was the way his eyes looked at you—like he was waiting for you to back down, to beg for mercy even.

"What?" You scoffed. "You're pissed 'cause I fucked up your bike? Is that it? So fucking ridiculous!"

"'S part of it," he answered, and before you could respond, his hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

And you weren't sure what you expected from him, but you didn't expect the force of his lips on yours.

His kiss was aggressive. It wasn't tender. It wasn't gentle. It was all teeth and tongue and the feel of his stubble against your skin.

You tried to pull back, pushing at his chest. "What the hell—!"

"Shut the fuck up."

You barely had time to react before he was pushing you against the motorcycle, and his hands found their way under your shirt. It was almost too much to bear—the roughness of his touch. It had no place here, not with you two practically being strangers in this world, but somehow it made sense.

And no, you didn't pull away. Not now.

"Daryl—" You cut yourself off when his hand slid down to your waistband, tugging at your pants, a movement that was fast and urgent. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your throat.

He didn't respond, not in words anyway, as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, his hands on your thighs, forcing you to stay still.

He wanted you—had wanted you, maybe for longer than he'd ever care to admit.

You gasped again when he pulled your pants down roughly, his hands moving along your hips before dragging them down your legs. You knew his hands were capable—he could gut a deer in under a minute, rebuild a bike from scratch—but this? This was a whole different level of skill, and you weren't sure whether to be impressed or terrified by how quickly he had you undone.

But you didn't have time to process it before Daryl was standing again, his face dangerously close to yours, eyes burning with a fire that made you blush.

God, his eyes.

They weren't just looking at you—they were staring you down.

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding down to your hips and pushing himself closer until there was no space between your bodies.

And then, his fingers slipped beneath your panties, and he slid two of them into you. Without warning.

You cried out at the suddenness of it, at the overwhelming feeling, but you didn't stop him.

"Still think I'm tremblin'?" He asked as he moved them inside you with a pace that made your head spin. You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

Sure, he was frustrated—but now it was all coming out, only in a way that you'd never expected. You didn't know what this was—what this would be afterward—but damn if it didn't feel like the only thing that mattered right now.

As his breath turned quicker against your neck, the urgency of his fingers quickened, too. Until he pulled them out of you. The moment he removed his hand, licking his fingers clean, you almost cursed aloud, the emptiness threatening to drive you mad.

He didn't give you time to say anything, didn't even let you think about it, because in the next moment, his hands were yanking your shirt up over your head, and your bra was gone just as fast.

But the way he studied you, every inch of you—like he was savoring the moment as if you were a piece of art he needed to drink in—made everything feel too much. Too much to take. Too much to bear. But also too good to stop.

You couldn't protest, couldn't do anything but let him have his way, and your eyes squeezed shut as you fought to hold it together.

Without a word, Daryl kneeled back down onto the ground again, his hands moving to your thighs, pushing them apart for him.

"Open yer eyes," he ordered, but you didn't. You just couldn't. But you could feel him there, right between your legs, and the anticipation was nearly killing you.

No, you couldn't do anything but obey as his hand was pulling your panties down and his other hand's thumb stroked across your clit, but something else caught his attention. A bruise on your thigh started to slowly form itself from when you'd crashed.

And then, without a word, he leaned forward, his lips pressing hard against the bruise. His teeth bit into the skin, and then he sucked on it with a hunger that had nothing to do with the motorcycle and the crash.

You gasped loudly, eyes opening wide as the sharp sting of his bite was followed by the slow, deep suck of his mouth.

His lips left the bruise for a moment, but it wasn't gone long. His tongue licked over the edges of it, then his teeth, scraping some more, making your legs shiver with lust and a little bit of pain.

As his fingers moved toward and away from your wet pussy, to brush over the scratches on one leg from the crash, you could feel the pressure of his touch as he traced over each one. He didn't care about the discomfort it caused, didn't care about the marks—they were his to play with.

A growl left his throat as he scratched them a little harder, just a little deeper, making you whimper.

You didn't even realize you were staring at him until his blue eyes looked up into yours, a silent claim that went deeper than anything else.

"Ain't lettin' ya look away," he warned as his hands gripped your thighs again, forcing your trembling legs to stay open for him.

And God, they were.

His touch was everything you didn't know you needed as he slipped his fingers back into you—simply all-consuming. His thumb stroked your clit yet again, and you were sure you were going to lose it way too fast.

And the way he kept looking at you—like he was daring you to look away…

But you didn't. Not once.

The pressure was building, that sweet, unbearable pressure, until it felt like you were going to burst into flames.

Indeed, it was pure fire.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya look away."

His fingers found their rhythm, slow but deep, making you moan out loud, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and on him.

"Yeah, 's it," he growled. "Focus."

You nodded wildly, the feeling overtaking everything, your body desperate for more. Every bit of your skin was burning, and you hated how badly you needed this.

"Daryl… I," you gasped, your hands holding on for dear life on the motorcycle seat, trying to stay upright but close to losing the battle with every pump. "I can't—fuck!"

"Can't what? Focus? Ain't nothin' new," he answered, his thumb still on your clit while his fingers were thrusting away. "Can't handle it? Ya jus' gotta focus. Keep yer eyes on me."

You were close, so fucking close already, but he wasn't letting up.

His fingers moved so roughly inside of you, pressing against your G-spot, which soon made you feel certain this was it—this was the moment.

Your legs were shaking hard, your breath coming in quick, desperate moans. "Fuck… fuck…" You whimpered, fingers tightening on the seat behind you.

But then he stopped. Just stopped.

The sudden loss of his fingers was like being thrown into a room full of walkers. You groaned, your hips bucking in a desperate attempt to go after what was just within reach, but he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you trembling and half-crazed.

"What the fuck, Daryl!" You cried out loud as you glared down at him, but Daryl only had the audacity to smirk, licking his fingers off once more like you hadn't been about to shatter into pieces.

"Keep still and shut up," he growled, and before you could scream at him, his head was between your legs.

Your words turned into a choked cry as his tongue moved over your clit, the feeling of his stubble against your inner thighs making you squirm.

It wasn't fair. You were already so close, your body trembling so hard it hurt, but now he was dragging it out, taking his sweet-ass time, licking and sucking like he had all damn day.

"Fuck—fucking hell, Daryl," you hissed, hands grabbing his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. The vibrations shot straight through you, making your thighs clench around his head, but he didn't stop—he didn't even flinch.

"Thought ya were so good at takin' risks," he taunted, his lips brushing against your clit as he spoke.

And with that, he sucked on it so hard you nearly screamed, the feeling of it being just on the edge of pain, but God, it was perfect. You were so damn close again, and this time, you needed it.

If he pulled away now, you swore you'd kill him.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips grinding against his mouth in a way that should've embarrassed you. "Daryl, fuck, don't you dare stop again—"

His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as his tongue pushed you further and further until there was nowhere left to go but over the edge.

But it wasn't just his mouth—oh no. His hands were keeping you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was claiming you, and maybe he was. You didn't care. You just wanted more.

"Fuck—Daryl, I'm—" Your voice broke, too far gone to even finish the sentence.

He pulled back just enough to growl, "What? Yer what?" His voice was rough and way too sarcastic for a man who was driving you insane.

"Stop it and finish me!" You snapped, your hands pulling at his hair like it would somehow speed him up.

He laughed—actually laughed—and that sound went straight through you. But before you could cuss him out for being an 'insufferable bastard,' his fingers were back on you, two sliding inside so easily you swore you saw stars.

Your breath hitched, and then he added a third.

"Fuck—holy shit!" You gasped, your thighs trembling as he stretched you wide. The feeling was nearly too much, but it was just right, and when his fingers started pumping in and out, so deep and hard, you couldn't do anything but ride it out.

He looked up at you then, his blue eyes searching for yours. You wanted to look away, to hide from the way he was watching you like he was saving every second of this to memory, but you didn't. He wouldn't let you.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya fuckin' look away."

You didn't think you could blush any harder—you didn't think you had the energy left for it—but then his other hand moved, his thumb pressing into the bruise on your thigh, just hard enough to make you wince.

"Shit—Daryl, that hurts!" You hissed at him, but his grip tightened, keeping you still.

"Good," he growled, looking at you. "Should hurt."

His fingers inside your pussy were picking up speed, driving you mad with how good they felt.

"Ya think I'm jus' gonna let ya off easy after crashin' my bike?"

He pressed harder into the bruise, making you whimper from the pain that somehow only made everything hotter.

"Nah. Yer gonna feel this. Remember this."

You hated how much it turned you on—the sting of his thumb on your bruise along with the pumping of his fingers inside you and the way his mouth was so close to your clit again.

"Please—fuck—please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. You just needed something—anything—to finally push you over the edge.

"C'mon," he growled against you, not stopping. "C'mon, woman. Fuckin' let go. Let me fuckin' have it."

And that was it. That was all it took.

Everything inside you exploded so intensely you moaned out loud, your whole body arching as the orgasm ripped through you.

"Fuck—fuck, Daryl!"

You tried to keep your legs from giving out, but they were done, trembling so hard you had no choice but to lean fully against the motorcycle once more, trying to hold yourself steady. But Daryl didn't stop. His mouth stayed on you, his tongue again working your clit, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm until you were shaking all over, whimpering and sobbing from the overstimulation.

Only then did he pull his fingers out in a way that made sure you'd feel everything.

But before you could catch your breath, his hands were on you again, gripping your thighs like they belonged to him. Without a word, he hoisted your legs up, wrapping them around his neck. The sudden movement made you yelp, but he didn't care—not one bit.

"What the fuck are you—"

"Shut up," he growled, his voice ragged as he shifted you off the motorcycle and onto his shoulders like you weighed nothing. "Focus."

The cold floor hit your back as he lowered you down, your body shivering against it. He moved near you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread wide as he settled between them again, his face just inches from where you were still dripping for him.

You barely had time to process the new position before his tongue was back on you, licking slow and deep, making you moan aloud through the garage. All you could do was writhe and shake beneath him, your hands searching for anything to grab and hold onto—his hair, his shoulders, the cold floor—trying to keep still as he worked you over.

But then, just when you thought he'd keep going until you couldn't take anymore, he moved, his mouth leaving your pussy as he started to lick and kiss—hot, wet, and sloppy—all over you.

And he didn't move fast. He took his time, crawling up your body like he was deciding which part of you he should tease next. You felt his breath across your skin, so warm yet unsteady, while his hands worked on keeping you exactly where he wanted you—legs spread wide, no room to close yourself off, no room to argue.

His hands? Oh, you knew those hands could kill you if they wanted to, but the way he traced the edges of the scratches on your thigh? Fuck, it was worse. Slow. On purpose. Just enough pressure to remind you it was there. A reminder you didn't need, but apparently, he thought you needed.

The tip of his thumb ran over them once, twice, then pressed down harder. You flinched—it was pure instinct—but his other hand clamped down on your leg, pinning you to the floor. His thumb didn't move, didn't give you a break. If anything, he pressed harder, and you hissed through your teeth. He groaned, low and deep, like your slight discomfort was exactly what he wanted.

Daryl soon leaned down and kissed them. He kissed them like he was apologizing. Then his teeth grazed over the same scratches, and you realized he wasn't sorry for it at all. His tongue followed, licking slowly and wetly over the stinging feeling of them, and your back arched itself off the floor.

By the time he moved up to the bruise on your hips, his fingers found it first, pressing into your flesh like he was testing it, seeing how much it was hurting you. You flinched again, but this time, his response was immediate—a growl coming out of his throat as his fingers dug in deeper.

"Daryl," you started, but your voice cracked, and you knew that he wasn't listening anyway. His mouth replaced his fingers, and the first kiss of his lips made your head snap up.

Not soft, not tender—he sucked on the bruise as if he wanted to drag the pain out of you, to make you feel every sting of it.

He kept going, his mouth kissing up your ribs, licking, biting, sucking, finding every bruise that was forming itself, every scratch, and making sure you knew he'd found them.

"Fuckin' hell…" He whispered as his mouth moved higher, pressing kisses to your chest, in between your tits, before his tongue licked over one nipple.

You gasped as he sucked it into his mouth, one of his hands moving to tease the other, pinching and rolling it between his fingers.

"Daryl, please! Please… just—"

He didn't let up. He crawled higher over you, his body pinning you down, his mouth moving up to your collarbone, where his tongue licked over it next.

By the time he reached your neck, you were a mess, your hands now clawing at his shoulders, desperate for him to give you more, to stop teasing. And he knew it.

But he wasn't done. His teeth found your neck, and he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, your thighs instantly squeezing around his hips.

"Goddamn," he growled as his mouth finally reached yours. "Look atcha… all wrecked."

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and hungry, his tongue pushing into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you.

And fuck, you didn't care.

Daryl left no room for argument—not that you had any strength left to argue.

His hands were everywhere at once, sliding over your thighs, your hips, your waist. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved back down between your legs, slipping through the wetness he'd left behind when he dragged his fingers through your wet folds, and his smirk certainly showed that he was satisfied with himself.

He wasn't asking for permission, no, but he wasn't rushing either. And he was now giving you the chance to stop him without saying a word.

When you didn't push him away, he leaned back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes seemed darker now, his pupils all wide, searching for something, waiting.

Your hands slid up his strong back, trembling slightly but steadying themselves as they reached his shoulders. You gave him a small but quick nod as you took a shaky breath.

That was all he needed.

With a growl, Daryl's hands gripped your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach fast but not harshly. Before you could even process it all, he pressed himself down against your ass.

"Don't move," he whispered.

You weren't planning to.

He grabbed your hips again, pulling you back just enough to hold them upward. You felt his cock pressing against your ass, still in his pants but unmistakably hard as he grunted and pushed it against you, his hands only holding on harder.

The deep and loud groan he made? You couldn't help but push back against him.

You barely had time to listen to the sound of his zipper before he was back, his cock sliding between your thighs, teasing, the wetness of your pussy making it too easy for him to glide against you.

Your fingers were clawing at the floor as you tried to push back, but his hands held you in place.

His hips rocked forward, and the tip of his cock pressed into your pussy. You tensed, your breath stopping at the sheer size of it, but he didn't push in—not completely. He was letting you feel every inch of how big he was.

When he did push inside, it was enough to stretch you wide open, and with one slow thrust, he sank into you, filling you up. Still, Daryl didn't move right away. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, as he gave you a moment to adjust and made sure you were okay.

Then, he finally started to move.

Slow at first, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again, each movement so controlled.

But it didn't take long for him to move faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

And you couldn't do anything but take it as he pinned you down.

"Daryl—" you moaned, but he cut you off with a growl, his arm sliding down around you, pulling your hips higher to give him better access.

"Don't talk," he ordered, trying not to lose himself. "Jus' take it."

And you did. God, you did.

The garage felt almost suffocating now, and all you could smell was the scent of sweat and sex. The only sounds to be heard were your fast-breathing moans of yourself and his feral grunts as Daryl moved behind you. Every thrust was deep, driving you forward just to pull you back again with a growl, his grip on your hips leaving marks you'd wear for days.

Your hands still searched for any kind of hold against the floor, trying to ground yourself as the intensity of it all threatened to break you apart. His cock stretched you in a way that still bordered on too much, each thrust rougher than the last, and yet you couldn't get enough of it—of him.

"Fuck," Daryl grunted, his voice sounding as if the word was being dragged out from deep inside him.

You couldn't respond to him, not with the way he filled you so completely, your body trembling under his control. But he didn't need any words in return from you. His hand slid from your hip, moving along your ass and up your spine, before he put his arm around your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Don't lose focus now," he growled, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His stubble grazed along your shoulder as he pressed his mouth down, his lips rough, almost punishing. He bit down hard, his teeth sinking into your skin just enough to leave another mark.

You cried out, clenching around him involuntarily. "Daryl—"

"Shut up," he said, cutting you off with another bite to your shoulder, this one softer than the last. His teeth were still on the mark he'd made, right before his tongue soothed it, leaving you shivering.

Daryl's pace quickened, each thrust making your overstimulated body shudder.

"Goddamn, look atcha," he grumbled, his voice full of lust. "Really fuckin' wrecked, ain't ya?"

You whimpered in response, your head falling forward and almost hitting the floor, but your body was still being held on tight by his grip.

"Ya like that?"

You nodded.

"C'mon," he growled, his hand tightening around your chest to keep you steady as his thrusts grew erratic. "Stay with me, woman. Focus. Fuckin' focus."

You didn't have a choice. His arm around your chest and his cock buried so deep inside you made it impossible to think about anything else. And the pressure was building again, unavoidable, and you knew he could feel it—the way your pussy clenched around him, desperate to feel him come, too.

And he didn't slow down. He didn't ease the pace or give you any room to breathe. Instead, he buried his face against you again, his lips sucking on your neck, his tongue following to taste the sweat of your skin.

"Shit," he hissed, his voice all muffled against your neck. "Goddamn, ya feel so fuckin' good."

His hips thrust forward, harder and faster, and you could feel him getting close, his movements losing their rhythm as his breathing turned ragged.

"Fuck—fuck," he groaned, his arm moving from your chest to hold your hip again, his hand grabbing you roughly as his thrusts went deeper. "Gonna—fuck, I'm—"

He didn't finish the sentence. With a loud groan that was almost sounding more animal than man, he pulled out, his hand gripping his cock as he came all over your back with force.

You stayed there momentarily, still on the cold floor of the garage, as you tried to piece yourself back together. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling so badly you weren't even sure they'd hold you if you tried to stand up.

Daryl soon moved off behind you, his heavy breathing just as loud and uneven as yours as he leaned against the motorcycle for balance. His cum was feeling all warm across your back, but you didn't have the energy to care—not yet.

Finally, he straightened himself, pulling his pants back up and putting his softening cock away. You heard the sound of his footsteps next to you as he walked around the garage, and for a second, you thought he was going to leave you there, fucked and half-naked in the garage.

But not long after, he was back, something soft and slightly damp rubbing over your skin.

"Hold still," he grunted. "Gotta clean ya up."

You flinched, moving your head to see what he was doing. Daryl had an old, torn rag in one hand, smudged with a little bit of dry oil, but it was enough to do the job. His other hand pressed against your shoulder, holding you still as he wiped away the mess of his cum he'd left behind.

"You could've at least grabbed a clean one," you grumbled, but there wasn't any real annoyance in your voice.

When he was done, he tossed the rag aside. "Yer alright?"

You smirked, despite the ache in your legs. "What, worried I might've cracked under all that control?"

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he just grunted before crouching in front of you. His hands found your arms as he helped you up, his strength the only thing keeping you from falling right back to the floor.

"Easy," he mumbled, sliding one arm around your waist to steady you. "Ain't wantin' to pick yer ass up again if ya fall."

"Not my fault," you answered, your legs wobbling as you tried to find your balance. "You're the one who—"

"Don't even start," he cut you off quickly, but definitely with amusement. "Ya got no one to blame but yer damn self."

His arm stayed around you as you took a few shaky steps with him by your side as if you had to learn how to walk again, your knees still threatening to buckle. You hated how he looked at you right now, showing you a smirk as he watched you struggle.

"Shut up," you grumbled, leaning against him more than you wanted to admit.

"Ain't said nothin'," he smirked, but the way his hand tightened on your waist betrayed his satisfaction.

Once you were steady enough to stand on your own, he let go, his hands falling to his sides. As you reached for your clothes, putting them on with clumsy, trembling fingers, Daryl leaned against the motorcycle again, watching you with that same gaze he'd had earlier, his blue eyes tracking every movement of your body.

"So? Ya still reckless?" He suddenly asked, as if to taunt you.

You glared at him as you put on your bra and shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Crashin' my bike," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then gettin' all riled up when ya can't handle shit."

Feeling your cheeks turn red, the heat was spreading all over your face as you turned to zip up your pants. "Maybe if you weren't such a goddamn caveman, my attention would've—"

"Caveman, huh?" Daryl stepped closer, the space closing between you until you could feel the presence of him behind your back. One hand came up, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your thigh from earlier, the touch rather gentle.

"Caveman kept ya focused now, didn't he?" He continued, his lips all close near your ear. "Got yer attention real good."

You hated how easily your body responded to him even now, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Next time," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "ya might think twice 'bout tryin' to show off."

His fingers then pressed into the bruise just enough to make you wince, reminding you of the lesson he'd drilled into you—literally.

"Control," he said, stepping back again. "Might save yer damn ass next time."

You turned to face the motorcycle with a scowl as you adjusted your clothes, looking around for your jacket. "Are you done lecturing me, or should I grab a notepad?"

"Nah. Jus' get yer shit together," he answered. "We're headin' out again tomorrow. Yer ridin' bitch till ya prove ya can handle it."

Laughing at that, your words were coming out faster than your still-wobbly legs could even move. "Riding bitch, huh?" You repeated as you turned to face him. "Next time you're teaching me to drive, I'll be riding something, alright—but it sure as shit won't be the bike."

It was a bold answer, considering your legs still felt like they'd been switched for spaghetti, but you weren't about to let him see you back down.

Daryl's lips twitched, that small smirk coming back as he closed the distance between you in a few quick movements. One hand shot out, gripping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Keep talkin'," he grumbled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "See where it gets ya."

You grinned, biting his thumb just enough to make him hiss. "I think it gets me exactly where I want to be," you responded, voice all daring, even as your pulse kicked up a notch all over. "Don't you think?"

Daryl's silence was answer enough, and for a moment, you thought he might snap again, dragging you into another round right there on the spot. But for now, and for once, you decided to savor and enjoy your little victory. Of course, it didn't last long.

You weren't sure who moved first, but before you knew it, you were pulling him down by his collar, your lips crashing onto his like they had something to prove.

The kiss was all grunts and stubbornness, his teeth biting at your lip as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. You didn't even notice when his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies.

"Y'ain't got any sense o' self-control," he mumbled against your mouth, but he didn't stop kissing you, one hand sliding up to grab the back of your neck.

You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, smirking up at him. "And you've got too much of it," you shot back.

You knew this would've gone on longer—should've gone on longer—but the sound of the side door from the garage to the house opening stopped you both in place like a couple of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Daryl?" Aaron's voice was to be heard, and you felt the blood freeze in your veins. "Are you both back already?"

Daryl let out a growl, his forehead slowly dropping to yours like he was trying to collect himself before turning to look toward the unwanted interruption.

Aaron stood in the doorway, his eyes looking between the two of you, taking in the sheer awkwardness of it all. His eyebrows shot up, and he blinked like he was trying to reset his brain back to factory settings.

"Oh…" Aaron said after a moment, his voice sounding a little bit higher than usual. "I just—uh—saw the garage door was closed from the outside when I came back. Thought you were done with, uh, teaching? I just wanted to get—"

Daryl cleared his throat, stepping back from you but not bothering to hide his irritation. "'M still teachin'."

Aaron's mouth opened like he was about to ask something else, but you jumped in before he could make things even worse. "Yeah, exactly," you said, smiling at him before you looked back at Daryl. "He's teachin' me how to… focus."

The words had barely left your mouth before Daryl shot you a look. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "And 'bout… control."

Aaron stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in urgent need of water. Finally, he managed to let out a quiet, "Still teaching, huh?" His voice was full of disbelief. "About control and focus?"

You crossed your arms, smirking. "Of course! And let me tell you, Daryl's got a real hands-on approach." Daryl gave you a warning look, but you ignored him. "Next time, maybe we'll move on to, I dunno, accelerating!"

"Yeah," Daryl answered flatly, his tone as casual as if Aaron had walked in on him fixing the motorcycle, not having had you taken against it. "Focusin' on the road ahead. Controllin' the bike while… ridin' it."

Aaron arched only one eyebrow this time. "Right," he said, dragging the word out like it was hurting him. "Well, maybe teach her outside of Alexandria next time instead of Eric's and my garage?"

You snorted. "Oh, we can, for sure. But Daryl's really good at teaching me how to focus on what's in front of me," you said sweetly. "It's the control part I keep getting stuck on."

Aaron let out a short, strangled laugh, already backing toward the door. "Yeah, okay! Don't let me interrupt your lesson." His face went red, and he backed up so fast he nearly tripped. "I mean, it sounds, uh... productive. I'll just—yeah." He gestured around awkwardly as he was about to hurry back inside the house.

When he left, you could've sworn he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, "What the hell is wrong with all these people?" before he closed the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, you leaned against the workbench, your eyes moving to the motorcycle that had started this whole situation, after all. It stood there innocently enough, like it hadn't been witness to your absolute lack of keeping control. Stepping forward, you traced your fingers along one of the scratches on its gas tank.

"Looks like Frankenstein's bike's seen some rough handling, thanks to me," you said before your eyes moved back onto Daryl, who was watching you like an animal sizing up its next meal. "Guess it'll get used to bein' ridden hard."

Eyes looking up, you were daring him to take the bait. "Think you'll leave some scratches on me next time?"

His muscles were flexing like he was seconds from pulling you back to him. "Keep talkin', woman, and I jus' might."

You grinned, stepping away from the motorcycle and grabbing your jacket, which was on the floor near the workbench. "Guess I'll just have to wait and see, huh?" You put the jacket on, taking your time on purpose to let him stew in his frustration.

Just as you reached the garage door and opened it, you turned back toward Daryl, who'd started to talk, watching you lean your shoulder against the frame. "Yer walkin' funny, woman."

You stopped, moving your head up with a glare. "If I walk funny, I'm tellin' everyone it's 'cause of the bike." You made sure to add a smirk. "I'm going to say it was a wild ride—not a crash."

As you pushed yourself off the frame and stepped outside onto the streets of Alexandria, your grin was as wide as ever. "Thank you for the thorough lesson, Dixon."

But before the garage could even close behind you, something soft and slightly damp was flying past your head, landing on the ground in front of you.

"Jesus, was that—?" You started to laugh, realizing exactly what he'd thrown after you. "Oh, come on! Did you seriously throw that at me? Gross!"

Daryl leaned against the motorcycle, his smirk not obvious, but it was there. "Missed, didn't I?" He didn't flinch, didn't apologize. "Didn't miss on purpose."

"That's disgusting," you called back and laughed, unable to help yourself. "And I'm not picking that up!"

"Didn't ask ya to," he answered, pushing himself off the machine and taking a few steps closer to the street. "But yer might come back in here 'n pick up somethin' else."

"Not a chance," you snorted, shaking your head while you stumbled a little bit. "Better luck next time. Or… tomorrow."

"Fuckin' reckless…" Daryl growled, but with amusement in his voice as he watched you disappear ever so slowly. But he didn't move, not yet. "Jus' get yer damn ass back here!"

You were already down the street and smirking to yourself as you tried to walk and just waved him off, making it clear that it was all for show as you held up both middle fingers, trying to make it seem like you were stumbling away with your body intact.

And, of course, you were—kind of.

Either way, Daryl knew that next time, the only thing you'd be riding was him, and you'd make sure he would be the one struggling to keep focus and control.

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