#westley x reader

[captainsophiestark]

The Reunion Scene

Westley x Reader

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Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Day 10 Prompt: "It's alright, I'm here now."

Summary: Westley and his love reunite after she shoves him off a cliff, before realizing who he was of course.

Word Count: 1,070

Category: Fluff

A/N: I'm reading the Princess Bride novel and apparently "The Reunion Scene" in the book between Westley and Buttercup is a bit of a running gag (the wikipedia article can give a quick walk through for anyone curious), so I decided to write it! In the book, it's described as a three page scene, which is about the length of this. For anyone unaware of the wild lore behind the novel, I highly recommend a Wikipedia deep dive, it's very entertaining

Tagging @auroracalisto as my fellow Princess Bride fan :) Hope you're having an amazing first semester teaching!!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I planted both hands against the chest of the man before me and shoved with all my strength, sending him careening over the cliff's edge. He'd killed my dearest love, and now returned to mock me, to dare imply I hadn't loved Westley. Whatever happened to me, I couldn't stand this man a minute longer. I shoved him of the cliff, listening to whatever he screamed as he tumbled to the ground below.

"As... you... wish..."

My heart stopped in my chest at the words of my love coming from the mouth of the Dread Pirate Roberts, tumbling down from the cliff I'd just shoved him off of. My Westley, alive, and falling. It couldn't be possible, but it was.

"Westley!" I cried, immediately rushing to follow him down the cliff. I tried to keep my feet under me, and I made it some of the way before gravity caught up to me and sent me tumbling, head over heels. I landed at the bottom, right next to Westley, who still wore his mask. Our eyes locked, and despite the lingering pain from my fall, I surged forward and ripped the mask from his face.

Staring back at me, by some miracle, was Westley. My farm boy. He looked different, older, stronger, and a little of the soft innocence had gone, but he was here. Not dead, like I'd thought him to be for the last three years. Alive, and now, with me.

"Oh, Westley!" My heart sang as I flung my arms around his neck. Without a second's hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. I moved to kiss him, but to my surprise, he pulled back.

"Won't your betrothed take issue with you kissing another man?"

"Humperdinck? Westley, I've already told you, I don't love him-"

"And yet you agreed to marry him. There was not a moment these past years I didn't think of you. But you agreed to give up on me, on love."

Now it was my turn to pull back a little. My brow furrowed, but Westley's expression didn't soften as his piercing blue-gray eyes surveyed me.

"Westley, I thought you dead," I said plainly, still a little shocked at his reaction. "Not a day has gone by that I didn't think of you, to mourn you. My heart was ripped out of my chest the day news came of your death, and I've had to live every day since dealing with the loss of my love.

"And besides that, Westley, I didn't seek the prince out. He found me, and proposed, since he was looking for a wife and found me beautiful. He knows and accepts that there's no love in our union, and he made it very clear that refusing a request from the crown prince would result in death. Death I would gladly accept, if I had ever thought there was any chance of you returning to me from the dead."

A cold fire lit behind Westley's eyes at my words, and when he spoke again, his voice was dangerously low and quiet.

"He's forcing you to marry him?"

I shrugged. "There are worse fates than being Queen, Westley. But none of that matters, not now that I know you live. Nothing matters at all anymore, Westley, so long as we are together."

He sighed, pulling me to him again, resting his forehead against mine. I brought my hand up to his chest, resting it there so I could feel his heartbeat and reassure myself that this was real. Westley was truly here.

"It's alright, I'm here now," he said, reading my mind as his hand came up to gently stroke my cheek. "My ship waits for us not far from here. It's not going to be easy for us... we'll have to go through the fire swamp..."

"We'll make it through," I said, running my hand through the hair at the base of his neck now. I smiled at him, all the love in my heart glowing through. "We'll make it through anything together."

"Then we haven't any time to waste. We must move quickly."

"Wait!"

Westley froze, halfway up from our position on the hill, but he sank back down at my outburst. His eyes never left mine once. His eyebrow quirked slightly in silent question, and I didn't wait to give him his answer.

I rushed forward, kissing Westley hard, like I'd wished for a chance to do every day for the past three years. He immediately returned the kiss, pulling me into his arms and holding me so close to his chest I could feel our hearts beating in sync.

There have been five kisses in the history of the world deemed so passionate, so perfect and full of love, above and beyond anything else that's ever happened. I was no expert on it, but in that moment, I knew this one blew every other kiss before it away.

Neither one of us wanted to pull away, but finally, Westley did. He kept staring into my eyes, gravity trying to pull us back to each other, but with a grimace of regret he leaned further back.

"We really need to keep moving. If we're to stay ahead of your pig fiancé, we have no time to waste."

"Just promise me a million more moments like this, for the rest of our lives."

Westley smiled. "As you wish."

I beamed as Westley pulled me to my feet, and the two of us began heading through the ravine we'd tumbled into and towards the Fire Swamp, hand in hand.

No doubt, the challenges ahead would be dire and terrible beyond imagining. But I knew confidently that we would survive them. My Westley was still in the world, and even better, he was with me. There was no other ending but for the two of us to be happily together.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

[fromstormsend]

As you wish / As m'lady commands

That was all he ever answered. “As you wish.” Fetch that, Farm Boy. “As you wish.” Dry this, Farm Boy. “As you wish.”

Every time you said ‘Farm Boy do this’ you thought I was answering ‘As you wish’ but that’s only because you were hearing wrong. ‘I love you’ was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard.” -The Princess Bride by William Goldman

"If you start calling me m'lady, even Hot Pie is going to notice. And you better keep on pissing the same way too." "As m'lady commands." -A Clash of Kings - Arya V

"That's right," he said angrily. "I'm too bloody lowborn to be kin to m'lady high." -A Storm of Swords - Arya V

When Arya and Gendry see each other again, Gendry had to make an explanation like Farm Boy did. I think ‘bloody lowborn’ sentence was a love confession but Arya didn’t get it like Buttercup :)

And yeah DEATH cannot stop true love but only DELAY. Valar morghulis.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Warm Rain Kisses

Westley Vuk x Reader

I had married Westley so I got a burst of needed endorphins. It’s also a AMAZING game. Pls I need mutuals who play this game

Summary: A rainy day on the farm calls for some needed cuddles with your newly acquired puppy of a husband

“Darling, you are just drenched-!” Your husband would shout, as your soggy body entered the home. Everything was soaked, and your boots were even filled with water. That rain storm came out of nowhere, and it was hitting hard. With lighting cracking outside.

“Seem’s to me Violet may have made her incantation a little too potent.” You admit, as you would pull your shoes off. You swore a fish came out of it even. Cleocatra would enjoy it, at least.

“I’ll go fetch you a change of clothes.” Weasley said, as he would hurry to the closet. He did his best to be careful, as it had been past sunset. Big paws and all. He’s had years of practice, and you made it your soul mission to write your own mending incantation. Just for him. That way he could stress less. Gramma would have been so proud.

“The chores are all done, at least. Frozen over here.” You shivered, as you had to take everything off. Even with being married, and having had many an encounter that resulted in damaged clothes, your husband still got so bashful around your naked body. You two have long since enjoyed a wonderful honeymoon, but here he was. Covering his eyes with sleepwear he grabbed for you. Had you giggle. That’s the man you married.

“I’ll get some underwear on, don’t worry.” You teased him. With a peck to his furry cheek you were off. Left him all a fluster. How you adored teasing him. Your big ‘scary’ wolf of a husband, still able to be so gentle in such a massive form.

With proper undergarments on, you returned to the living room. You might wear was laid out, and you could hear him already working in the kitchen. If the mutters of Russian curses at dropped items said anything to you.

Warm clothes, a warm fire place, and the works of tea. That’s what your cold skin needed. Also, cuddles. Lots of them. He was more than happy to provide such, as he would return with a tray of needed treats.

“Figured I would try something a little different. My mother loved to make warm drinks for me, and my brother, whenever we returned hunting. Even in the snow you can lose a lot of fluids. She liked to make it a little challenge for herself. To try and make something a little different.” Westley would explain to you, before he laid on the floor. Now your big pillow to cuddle, as the towel he had also grabbed was in your hand. Ruffling at your hair to dry.

“Oooo. Hot chocolate!” You perked up, and were excited. Something sweet. Oh he knew you well. Hardly bothered with your hair anymore, before you were quick to take your cup. Nearly burned your tongue, but it was so worth it.

“Kai always finds the best chocolate.” You cooed, as you laid against your husband. Enjoying his furry touch, and the way he breathed. Such big breaths. How his heart beat was so visible. Some call it morbid. You call it beautiful.

“He really does. Maybe if we were to ever reveal ourselves one day, he should be who we speak to first. He seems the most likely to be open minded.” He figured, as he yawned. Poor man was exhausted, but he was always willing to wait for you.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t be surprised if he already has met some FaeFolk. He’s been all over the place. Maybe he never brought it up because of that. He knows better than to risk their secret. Respects nature, after all. The way he talks about the water just seems too whimsical…” You would agree, as you watched the fire place.

“Exactly. Along with the books he seems to enjoy, and how whatever I recommend seems to be something he’s aware of. World travelers tend to be more open minded.” Your husband would agree, as he gave a long stretch. Made his joints pop just right, as he would yawn.

“Today was a good day.” You would nod, with pride. You finished some candles, have potions and time freeze spells stacked for your mining trip tomorrow, finished some aging wines for your hubby to enjoy, the animals were checked on, you did alot in one day. Busy, but that’s how you liked it.

“I’m so glad. I wish I could do more for you, but I can only be in two places so often.” Your husband would sigh. That made you kiss his fuzzy little ear. He was doing so much. He deserved rest all the same. Just because you two had different jobs didn’t mean he didn’t deserve any less rest.

“You are doing the best you can. I love you so much for that.” You would finish your drink, before you simply curled up against him. No need a bed tonight. He was just perfect like this. The warm fire place, the rain storm outside, and the heavy breathing of your Westley. What more could you want?

“Suppose I’m stuck here for the night.” He chuckled, before he would nuzzle his muzzle against your cheek. His wet nose kissed your cheek, and that made you giggle. You loved his little doggy kisses. And in turn, he loved giving them. It made the burden of being a werewolf not so bad. You loved BOTH sides of him. His human, and fae, sides. Him. Simply him.

“Good night, sweetheart. Love you. Love you so much.” He whispered, in that gravely voice of his. A sleepy ‘love you more’ was returned, and he chuckled. Hardly could stay awake any longer. It was just a slice of heaven in that moment. Warmth, and love.

What more could a witch want?

[munsonsmixtapes]

As You Wish

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: you and Eddie meet at Robin’s Halloween party and realize that you’re dressed up as a couple

based on this request!

Eddie was convinced that he didn’t believe in love at first sight, but the second you walked through the door to Robin’s apartment, he was beginning to think that his mind was changed.

You looked absolutely breathtaking in your Buttercup costume and he was realizing that you were the new friend that Robin had made at work. The one she had gabbed about endlessly, always wanting to make it clear to Eddie you were very pretty and very single.

That was always something that his friends told him and faster many failed dates, he had revoked all of their setting up privileges. But this time…this time maybe he’d let it slide.

He turned away from you when you approached the snack table where he and the other three in his group had been standing. He wanted to remain cool and mysterious even though he knew that he was nothing of the sort. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been chronically single.

“And who might you be?” You asked and Robin patted Eddie on the shoulder to let him know that you were speaking to him. He whipped around, knocking over the bowl of chips in front of him in the process and was grateful that a mask was covering most of his face because it hid his blush.

He was quick to drop to the floor to scoop the chips back into the bowl and was so focused on what he was doing that he hadn’t even been aware that anyone had been helping him until a hand brushed his.

Eddie looked up slowly to see your eyes looking into his, a warm smile on your lips. His gaze shifted to your hands to see m that they were full of chip crumbs that you were picking up from the floor and he was about to thank you, the words on the tip of his tongue, but you had somehow rendered the man who never shut up speechless.

“I-“ he started, but his mouth was now dry and he was suddenly very aware of how hot his costume was. Jesus, he really needed a glass of water.

“Yeah?” You asked, your voice so gentle and he appreciated that you were being so patient with him. A lot of women he had come across would have made fun of him, but you didn’t. You had even gone as far as helping him clean up the mess he had made.

“D-“ he cut himself off again, not entirely sure what he was trying to say. He was blowing his shot at getting a date without and he hadn’t even said anything yet.

You gathered the rest of the chips into the bowl and then stood, offering him your hand and he took it, letting you help to his feet.

“Well, look at that,” you smiled as you got the full view of his costume. “It seems we’ve somehow dressed up as a couple.” You let out a chuckle and Eddie swore it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

Your words finally registered in his brain and he looked down at his costume before looking at yours, seeing that the two of you actually did look like a couple and that made him feel even more sweaty than he was previously. What were you doing to him?

“Guess it’s fate,” you added with a wink and the man thought he was going to die right there.

“G-guess so,” he was finally able to get out and your smile widened at his agreement. Robin had told you that he was cute and she had been right, at least, you thought she had been even though you couldn’t see most of his face. And you thought his clumsiness was adorable. Most men you had come across had been cocky or way too confident so it was refreshing to see someone who wasn’t.

And his costume was impressive, so close to the one that Westley had worn in the movie and you wondered how much he paid to have it made. Surely something custom like that had to cost a pretty penny. Yours had just come from items you already had in your closet and you were lucky just how accurate everything looked.

“I really love your costume,” you complimented and you watched what you could see of Eddie’s cheeks turn bright pink. “Where did you get it?”

“I um-I made it,” he replied, stepping closer to the table to grab his bottle of beer that he had left sitting there. He took a sip, watching your face the entire time, gauging your face for any negative reaction. How many times had he told a girl that he made his own cosplay costumes only to be met by grimaces? It was all so exhausting to try to put on a facade, to pretend to be someone else and he was tired of it. That was why he had stopped putting himself out there, why he decided that it was better to be by himself.

But your face lit up as soon as the words left his mouth, fascination written all over it and the man swore he was dreaming for a second.

“You made this?” You asked, your beautiful smile getting even brighter. “That’s fucking awesome!” You were now grinning and Eddie resisted the urge to clean out his ears or make you repeat yourself.

“I did,” he nodded, your smile feeling infectious as one spread across his own lips. “I um-“ he cut himself off, but then thought he should continue, deciding that you were a safe space for him. “I make costumes all the time. I love to cosplay.”

Now you were beginning to understand why Robin was trying to set the two of you up. Not only had she probably (definitely) known that you two were going to coincidentally dress up as a couple, but she also knew that you both were into cosplay.

“Me too!”

“Now you’re just pulling my leg.”

“No, seriously, I’ll have to show you my photo album sometime.” Sometime as in…were you setting up a date?

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” you nodded. “Do you want to get a drink-oh-you already have one.” Eddie took another sip of his beer and realized that the bottle was in fact empty.

“Empty,” he held up the bottle and you nodded, feeling a shy smile appear on your cheeks that were starting to burn.

“Let’s go, then,” you held your hand out and Eddie took it without hesitation, letting you lead him into the kitchen for another drink.

“As you wish,” he responded with a smile as he looked down at your entwined fingers, subconsciously letting the pad of his thumb rub along your knuckles gently as he followed you, wondering what the hell he had done to deserve you.

You spent the rest of the night side by side on Robin’s couch, drinking and laughing with the rest of the group. And when the party came to a close and the two of you went down to where you had parked, you exchanged numbers, deciding that maybe Robin did know what she was talking about in regards to setting the two of you up.

[vangelini]

Boyfriend For The Night (Part 2) | Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 1, Finale!

Summary: After a few too many drinks, Spencer takes you back to your place, and you say something you might regret when you sober up…

Tags: fluff, more pining idiots, BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Words: 2.3k (whoopsie)

|

“Reid is my boyfriend, for the night,” you smiled, taking a sip of your drink. It was, supposedly, just for the night, but Spencer liked the sound of that.

And, admittedly, so did you.

“Just for the night?” Morgan laughed, his bright, white smile teasing you two.

“Well, we’ll see how he does and go from there,” you joked. Reid couldn’t help but laugh a little at your comment.

“Well, I intend to impress,” he rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand, laughing under his breath while looking down at you. Penelope hit Morgan on the shoulder, drawing his attention toward Reid’s little look of love. He just laughed, turning back to his conversation with Hotch.

“Those two are so screwed.”

The night went on as one usually does. Some of the team split off into different games, dancing, or their own little conversations. You and Spencer were of the latter group.

“I can’t explain WHY The Princess Bride is my favorite movie, it just is!” You feigned defensiveness, leaning into the seat behind you, laughing. “Why don’t your profile it out of me,” you smiled at Spencer. He laughed, taking a drink of his club soda.

“Fine,” he set his drink down, turning to you. “I think…” he leaned down, leveling his eyes with yours, glancing between both of your irises. “I think it’s probably because, ever since you were a child, you’ve been escaping with fantasy,” he sat up. “It would be safest to assume you identify with Buttercup, that you long for someone close to you to come sweep you off your feet and solve all your problems,” he narrowed his eyes. You looked gently up at him. “But,” he sighed, leaning back. “Knowing you, I’d say you like Westley,” he smiled. “You grew up less wealthy and have worked your whole life to protect the people you love. It’s a movie that makes you believe there’s hope in the world,” he took a long sip of his drink.

Your jaw hung open in shock. “When did you learn so much about The Princess Bride,” you smiled, leaning your head on your hand.

“Garcia made me watch it,” he shrugged, laughing.

“Okay, fine…” You took a sip of your drink, head spinning a little. “So what’s your favorite movie, then, hm?”

He didn’t hesitate before responding, like he had clearly been wanting to talk about it. “L’age D’or,” he spoke with his hands. “It’s a-a seminal surrealist film that was actually co-written by Salvador Dali,” he smiled wide. “It used Dali’s classic absurd style and shocking imagery to critique the bourgeoisie and the Catholic Church. It, uh, was so controversial, actually, that it led to riots and bans,” he continued on about vignettes and taboos, but you just stared at him with a smile, eyes glazed over with pure adoration. Some time after he went on about Luis Buñuel’s other works, you realized you were absolutely whipped for this nerd.

You must have been off in la-la-land, because Reid got a little closer to you to get your attention. “Are you okay?” You snapped up.

“What, yeah, I’m good,” you smiled, smoothing down your slacks. “I’m gonna get another drink,” you smiled nervously, standing up a little too quickly. You stumbled a little, causing Reid to reach out and steady you with his hands. Morgan noticed.

“Hey, Pretty Girl, how many of those have you had?” He gestured to your glass.

“Probably too many,” you smiled half heartedly, realizing you were likely a little more than tipsy. You also started to notice how tightly Spencer’s hands steadied you. “It’s getting late, anyways, I’ll go call a cab,” you started to reach for your phone, but Spencer stepped in.

“Hey, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Pretty Boy is right,” Morgan added. “Someone should take you home.”

“Guys, Im an adult, I don’t need a babysitter,” you laughed, speech slightly slurred. Yeah, you were definitely drunk.

“It’s fine, I can take her home,” Spencer gave a tight-lipped smile to Morgan. He turned to you, ignoring Morgan’s small, concerned smirk. “It’s not safe to go home alone while inebriated,” he took his hands off of you, and you noticed how he flexed them a little. Interesting. You would have to analyze that in the morning, maybe when you weren’t so intoxicated. He pulled his crossbody bag over himself and grabbed your hand, leading you from the booth. “I’m still your boyfriend, for the night,” he smiled.

You couldn’t help but giggle at him.

“Okay, okay, whatever, pretty boy,” your hand tightened around his. The nickname felt different, coming from your lips, he thought. Somehow, it seemed like less of a nickname and more of an observation. He shook it off. “I don’t live far from here, we can walk,” you spoke as you both stepped out of the bar, the biting cold air hitting your skin. You wrapped your arms around Spencer’s, his biceps wrapped up nicely by his cotton sweater. You smiled, and, you couldn’t see it, but so did he.

“Sounds good,” he barely squeaked out, just content to be settling into your touch.

The walk was peaceful, passing by a river or a park, street lights illuminating the sidewalk. They cast a warm glow on the night, shining in Spencer’s eyes, glimmering as he glanced down at you stumbling by his side. The breeze was slightly shielded by Spencer’s towering figure. He relished the feeling of your grip, a sense of security he didn’t know he craved. And, for a moment, it really did feel like you two were a couple.

He helped you up the steps to you apartment. “Such a gentleman,” you joked. He laughed lowly.

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t eat concrete, but if you’d rather I didn’t-”

“I’m kidding, i’m kidding~” you slurred out, pulling out your keys. It danced around the lock a few times, since your vision was blurred, but with some help from your temporary boyfriend, the door pushed open and you were met with the warmth of your apartment. You couldn’t help but sigh, throwing yourself down on the couch. Spencer locked the door behind the two of you, watching you kick off your shoes.

“You should take your contacts out before you fall asleep,” he put his bag down. “Sleeping with them in can increase your risk of infection up to eight times,” he more than scurried over to your kitchen, filling you up a glass of water.

“Speeence, that’s so much work,” you threw a throw blanket around your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, but I don’t want you coming in to work tomorrow with dry eyes and corneal damage,” he set the glass down on the coffee table, kneeling in front of you. You were so tired, you didn’t notice the nickname. He didn’t seem to, either. “Come on, you need to take them out,” he reached for your arm, taking a hold of your wrist. His voice was gentle, laced with a genuine concern, and his touch was reverent. As you looked down to where his sturdy hands held you, you realized, for a moment, how deeply you cared for him.

He knew alcohol made your inhibitions nonexistent, but he didn’t expect you to start crying. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong,” he grabbed the side of your face, wiping a tear off your cheek. His hands were just so soft, it made you tear up more.

“I-I don’t know,” you sobbed out. You really didn’t know.

“Hey, it’s okay, drink this,” he handed you the glass of water. As you took a sip, he moved his hands to your knees, soothing small circles into them. “Why are you sad?”

You sniffled, looking down at his face. His brows knitted together, eyes beaming up into your own. You could have SWORN you saw his heart beating against his sweater. “Because I love you being my boyfriend, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t,” you were a little embarrassed, but you were drunk, so it barely mattered.

Spencer’s heart rate spiked, and a rosy tint started rising in his face. “You don’t mean that,” he soothed, voice just above a whisper.

“I do,” you looked straight into his eyes. They were glazed over in something you couldn’t describe and probably never would.

“According to research, a-about 63% of people have admitted to saying something they regret while intoxicated,” he reasoned out, holding onto your hand.

“Another study found that 54% of those confessions are things they genuinely feel, Spence,” he realized you clearly weren’t out-of-it enough to not hit him with his own statistics. He couldn’t speak, and he really couldn’t think either. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, eyes dancing around your face. His heart jumped up and down as an innocent desire swept through his veins.

Did you really mean that? Was he not the only one who stole small glances in the bullpen? Was he not alone in his heartbreak when watching someone else flirt with you? Surely, this was a symptom of the alcohol. Maybe-

“It’s so hot in here,” you broke the silence, breaking away from him. He swallowed hard, eyes moving hesitantly away from your face.

“I’ll uh, I’ll change your thermostat,” he stood up, moving towards the hall.

“Thank you, Spence,” you lied down, sniffling once more.

He gave up on having you take out your contacts or change your clothes. He just spread another blanket over you, shutting off the lights. He even took the liberty of setting your alarm. Before he left, he heard you mumble a small, “Good night, Spence.”

He smiled, sighing.

“Good night.”

—

“Hey, Pretty Girl, didn’t have too much fun last night, did you?” Morgan laughed. He couldn’t see you rolling your eyes under the sunglasses that shielded you from another migraine.

“Ha-ha,” you set your stuff down. “That’s me laughing at your funny joke.”

“Honestly, I’m shocked you didn’t show up with Boy Genius, this morning,” he crossed his arms. “Leaving together from the bar, going back to your place-“

“Derek, nothing happened,” you huffed. At least, you THOUGHT nothing happened. The events of the last twelve hours were an honest blur.

“Okay, okay, I yield,” he threw up his hands, going back to his own work. You turned to see Spencer walking in at about the same time.

He had replayed your words in his mind about a thousand times, maybe more. Did you really mean it when you said you loved having him as your boyfriend? Maybe you said that to every guy who took you home drunk. He thought going through all the possibilities would make it easier to face you, in the morning. He proved himself wrong.

You pulled off your glasses, standing up. As he sat down at his desk, you leaned over it.

“I wanted to say thank you for last night,” you spoke softly, not out of secret, but out of vulnerability.

“It’s no trouble,” he smiled. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safe,” he looked up at you, moving some files around his desk.

“I really, really appreciate it,” you spoke apologetically. “I wasn’t too much… trouble, was I?” You smiled nervously. “When i’m inebriated, my inhibitions tend to…” you trailed off, trying to find the words.

“Disappear?” He smiled, laughing a little.

“Yeah…”

“You weren’t any trouble,” he reassured you, voice steady. “Actually, it was,” he smiled. “It was nice.”

“Nice?” you laughed, feeling your headache melt away at his soft voice.

“Being able to take care of you,” he defended playfully. “I don’t usually get to do that; it’s usually the other way around,” he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, looking up at your soft smile. “There was something I wanted to talk about, though…” Your heart skipped a beat.

“Crap, did I do something weird last night? I’m so sorry, if I did, I never-“

“No, no, nothing like that,” he laughed nervously. “You uhm…” he grabbed the back of his neck. He wanted to know if you really felt the same way he did. He wanted to know if you would hold his hand like that while sober. He wanted you. “Would you like to, maybe, get together sometime again?” He squeaked out, smiling shyly. “Maybe, this time, without the alcohol?” You smiled at his offer.

“I absolutely would, Spence,” you giggled out, tapping a nail habitually on the screen dividing your desks. He sighed a sigh of relief.

“Cool,” he pursed his lips together in a smile.

“Cool,” you mirrored him subconsciously.

Maybe it wasn’t just for the night.

(‼️💕THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REQUESTED PART TWO. REQUESTS ALWAYS OPEN💕‼️)

[zepskies]

As You Wish

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Dean agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

AN: Here’s a little something in honor of Dean’s birthday! If you haven’t seen The Princess Bride, do yourself a favor. 🥰

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, and nothing but the fluff. (Established relationship.)

“My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” Dean says, right in time with the iconic swashbuckler on the screen, complete with his best approximation at a Spanish accent.

You giggle against his side, hard enough to rock both of you on the bed. When he agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

“Are you gonna quote the whole damn movie?” you ask.

Dean brandishes an imaginary sword with his fist held out.

“HELLO! My name is—”

Biting your lip, you cut him off short by playing dirty. You wrap your arm around his middle and dance your fingers across his ribs. He’d never admit it, but he’s got sensitive sides.

He flinches and laughs on reflex. “Hey, hey! That’s a foul move!”

His arm tightens around your waist while his other hand closes around your wrist. You try to grapple with him, your bare legs tangling with his pajama-clad ones, but you both know it’s a losing battle.

Dean gathers you tighter against his chest and traps your wandering hand.

Huffing another laugh, you relax again. His heart clips at a faster pace under your ear. Your hand smooths up his chest and finds its way up the back of his neck.

Dean can't help it. He lets out a contented hum when your nails give his scalp a little scratch.

For a moment, his attention drifts away from the movie and down to you. He spies the soft edge of your smile, feels your hair starting to itch against his arm, your soft curves under his hand, pressing against him.

You two don’t get these quiet days often, but he wants to make sure you get some rest. You, Sam, and Dean spent about three straight weeks in a row with back-to-back hunts, and the last one had really taken it out of you. So now, Dean’s satisfied to see you so relaxed. Happy, even.

Yeah. You really do seem to be as happy as he (secretly) feels.

Sometimes, he finds that part hard to believe. If you could want this with someone like him, then maybe…maybe he doesn’t screw up all the time.

Dean tunes back into the movie just in time for Buttercup to jump out of the window in her pretty white dress. She and Westley join Fezzik and Inigo on white horses, and the couple shares the kiss that left all the others behind.

Dean glances down at your face. He’s amused by the way you’re eating up all this sappy rom-com crap. Your eyes are shining with unshed tears. He ducks down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“You just spring a leak over anything, don’t you?” he teases. You shove at his chest with a halfhearted hand.

“Only over the good stuff,” you retort.

He accepts that with a chuckle. When the credits start to roll down the screen, he reaches for the remote and searches for the episode you guys left off in Game of Thrones. You tap his chest.

“Hey, wanna go out to dinner tonight?” you ask. A warm smile plays on your lips. “Just you and me?”

Dean blinks. He doesn’t remember the last time you two went on an honest-to-God date. No time, no privacy, always something evil on your asses…

A decision made in his mind, Dean gives you a smile back. He brushes his thumb across your cheek.

“As you wish,” he says.

AN: 😘 Hope you liked this one!

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[abibliophobiaa]

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

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next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Oh, Honey - Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

Jamie Tartt x Fem!Reader

Content : jealousy, friends to lovers, a bit of violence, flirting, kissing

Word Count : 1.6k

Plot Summary : Jamie doesn’t know how to react when he sees you flirting with a West Ham player. 

A/N : More of my love, Jamie, there's a criminally low amount of Jamie fanfic---as always pls like and reblog if you enjoy <3

“Well don’t you look gorgeous?” You hear the voice before you see its owner, and you roll your eyes before picking your drink up from the bar and turning around. 

“And you are?” You deadpan. 

“Westley Smythe. But I’m better known as the star player of West Ham.” He quirks a smile at you and you try hard not to laugh right in his face. 

“You do know who I am?” You ask him, and he raises an eyebrow, looking you up and down as if there was no way he could know. 

“I’m Richmond’s athletic trainer. ” You watch the wheels turn in his mind, and you smooth your dress on yourself, flashing him your own brilliant smile. “I don’t really associate with West Ham.” 

He shrugs. “No one has to know.” He says, and this time, you do laugh out loud, actually tickled that this man was being so bold. 

But your laugh alerts your own star player, a certain number 9. Jamie’s jaw clenches when he sees you laughing with Smythe, and the grip on his beer bottle (a rare treat Roy allowed him) tightens. He feels Roy lean over, and he rolls his eyes in anticipation for whatever Roy has to say. 

“Bloody fucking hell, Tartt. Just tell the girl you like her.” Jamie can’t help but steal glances at you, where you’re chatting away with the West Ham player. And…are you enjoying his company? He thinks about you, how you move when a song you like comes on, the smell of your honey scented perfume. 

“I can’t.”

“Yes you fucking can.” Roy grunts, and with that he puts another beer in front of Jamie and wanders off to mingle with Ted and Beard. 

This leaves Jamie with admittedly, a lot to think about, even though Roy hadn’t said much. 

You keep a tight smile on your face, and you glance to the boys, noticing Jamie was watching you. Your face flushes and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Even though Westley was definitely not your type, you decide you could maybe use him to make Jamie a bit jealous. 

For the past few months, it always seems like Jamie is on the edge of asking you something. There’s stolen glances, smiles that linger a bit too long. You even find yourself checking over him after games more often than other players. You and Jamie were friendly, even friends, but you couldn’t deny the extremely large crush you held on the Mancunian. 

You reach out and brush a light hand on Smythe’s arm, causing him to step a bit closer to you. You glanced again at Jamie, the muscles in his perfect jaw jumping at the sight of you and Smythe. You grin to yourself, angling your body so you’re facing away from Jamie. You felt maybe a little evil, but maybe it would push him to talk to you a bit more. Of course, you could talk to him, but it seemed like anytime you tried to flirt, Jamie was completely oblivious to what you were trying to do. 

You roll your eyes as Westley continues to drone on, casting a peek over your shoulder. Jamie was still watching you, but he was standing now. He sets his bottle on the table and skulks out of the bar, and you can’t help but smirk. 

The next day, you’re up in the box with Keeley and Rebecca, who you inform of your jealous-Jamie plan. 

Keeley grins. “I love it babes.” And Rebecca nods.

“Maybe it showed him what he was missing.” She suggests, and you point a finger at her, settling into your seat. You cross your arms and gaze down at the field but the huge monitor over the stands shows closeups of the team. You can’t keep your eyes off of Jamie, and Keeley leans in. 

“He looks grumpy, I think your little plan worked, yeah?” She grins, nudging you. You shrug, but secretly you were pleased. If he was jealous over you, surely that meant he liked you. 

The game starts, the usual fast paced back and forth making your head spin. You notice that Smythe has the ball, about to score, when suddenly -

“Oh my god!” You exclaim, standing straight up out of your seat. Jamie had slide-tackled the other player, knocking him down, causing Smythe to roll a little bit. Westley Smythe stands up and charges towards Jamie, who didn’t seem like he was going to back down, in fact, he was smirking, walking to meet Smythe. Jamie pushes Smythe hard, but before a real fight can break out, the referee interferes, gesticulating to Jamie. 

Finally, the referee pulls out a red card. 

Keeley and Rebecca sit next to you, stunned. 

You look up at the monitor and catch Jamie smirking, tongue out, cocky expression on display as he walks back towards the dugout. You sit down, slightly stunned. But also, slightly into it. You watch Roy shake his head at Jamie and send him into the locker room. You quickly stand up, making your way out of the box.

Your tennis shoes make a soft tap, tap, tap on the floor as you walk down the long, bright hallway to the locker room. You round the doorway and stop, right as Jamie looks up at you. 

“What the hell, Jamie? A red card? Not to mention, you could have hurt yourself and then work on your ankle would have had to start over.” You put your hands on your hips, moving forward towards him. 

“Oh sorry, are you worried about your little West Ham boyfriend?” He says, scoffing as he stands up, turning to face his locker. 

“Boyfriend? I don’t care about Westley.” 

“On a first name basis, huh?” 

You clench your teeth. He was going to be difficult about this. “Why do you even care?” 

Jamie shrugs, still facing away from you. “I don’t.” 

“So why’d you tackle him, then?” 

At this, you can see Jamie’s body tense. “He’s a bloody wanker, that’s why.” 

At this, you scoff. He was really going to stand in front of you and pretend as if you didn’t know what this was about. At the sound of your noise of indignation he turns around to face you. There’s a glint in his eyes and he steps closer to you. Very close. Noses almost touching close. He’s slightly taller than you, so he looks down at you. 

“Maybe I don’t like the way he was looking at you last night, yeah? Like you were a piece of fucking meat.” 

“I can take care of myself.” You assure him, biting back a smirk. You can’t help it though, a devilish smirk was playing on the corners of your lips. “Are you jealous, Tartt?” 

You expected him to smirk. You even expected him to maybe laugh, that beautiful smile on display. Instead, he licks his lips, quirking an eyebrow at you. “I think you know the answer to that.” 

“Then say it.” You challenge. 

At this, Jamie smirks. “Yes. I was jealous. You are smart, funny, and kind, and seeing Westley Smythe all over you made me want to tackle him on the pitch.” 

You’re a bit taken aback. You didn’t expect him to pile compliments on you, and your eyes soften. “Oh..” you breathe out. 

Jamie continues to gaze down at you, leaning in even closer than he was before, his lips hovering centimeters above yours. You watch, mesmerized, drunk in his presence. 

“Seems you might like having me jealous over you, yeah?” Jamie teases. “But that’s okay, as long as I get you all to myself.” 

You swallow, your eyes trailing to his lips. “You’ve always had me all to yourself.” You whisper, glancing up to meet his gaze again. But the look on his face is different. Where before it was smirking, sexy, teasing, now it was surprised and anguished. 

“Wh..what?” He manages to get out, and you kick yourself, believing you said the wrong thing. “Just how long have you been trying to make me jealous?” He asks, reaching up to gently push a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You shrug, suddenly bashful, cheeks burning red hot as he brushed his hand there briefly. You feel a gentle hand under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. He searches your face, a small, pleased smile playing on his lips. 

“Only since last night. I couldn’t take the tension anymore.” You whisper, and Jamie laughs softly. He slides his hand to the side of your face, lifting his other hand to mirror it. Cradling your face gently, he leans in. 

Before anything happens, his eyes travel from your lips to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?” He whispers. Your mouth feels dry, but you nod, and he leans in, gently connecting his lips to yours. 

You kiss him back, feeling as if you were melting, and you slide your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. His hands leave your face and snake around your waist, holding you as close as he can. “You are as sweet as honey.” He breathes into your ear, and you shiver. 

“Oi!” You hear a booming voice yell from the doorway and you instinctively look over, still tangled in each other’s arms. There stood Roy, an eyebrow raised. “Not that I don’t think it’s about time the two of you kissed, but Ted wants to see you, Tartt.” 

Jamie looks at you, stealing another kiss before winking at you, following Roy out of the locker room door. You stood there, smiling and blushing to yourself. You guessed Jamie just needed a little push, is all. You couldn’t wait to continue what you started.

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 37

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 36

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @bloodibambiidoll @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog @losingmygrasponreality

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, alcohol use, drug use, light arguing, fingering, sex under the influence, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, choking, dirty talk, praise/degradation, squirting, fluff

Word Count: 7.7k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 37: Spellbound

Tuesday, October 31st, 1989

"Are you ready yet, sweetheart? We're gonna be late to Harrington's." Eddie says from the bedroom as you're affixing a long, blonde wig on top of your head. You're trying to secure it with some bobby pins, but they keep slipping out.

"Just a minute, Eds." You sigh, tugging the damn thing in place again and again, attempting and failing to keep it still. Eddie hears your strained grunts and swears, coming into the bathroom to see what the hell is going on.

"Need some help, princess?" He asks as he leans in the doorway, arms crossed. He's already dressed and ready to go in his costume. The handsome Westley from The Princess Bride. He's covered head to toe in all black, which isn't all that odd for him on a typical day. But man, he looks absolutely gorgeous in this getup. He's got his hair kept back under a tied head scarf, a leather mask covering the top half of his face. A billowy shirt with laces on the front covers his torso, well-fitted pants on his legs. Another strip of fabric is wrapped around his waist, a scabbard and fake sword resting on his hip. Leather boots and gloves finish the look, and a thin penciled-in mustache sits above his upper lip.

You're meant to be his beloved Buttercup, wearing a long, flowy red dress with a golden belt around your hips. You've got some basic flats underneath, no one will see your feet anyway. And of course, this thick, blonde wig is supposed to bring the vision together. But it just. Won't. Stay. "Yes, please." You sigh, giving up on finishing this task on your own. "Can you just hold it still so I can pin it? This damn thing is so finicky." You ask in frustration, waving your hands about.

"As you wish, my love." Eddie says in an English accent, bowing dramatically in the mirror's reflection.

"Get over here, you dork." You giggle at his playfulness, cheeks turning pink as he brings one of your favorite characters to life. It's gonna be hard not to be all over him tonight if he keeps it up.

"Right away, your highness." He says in that same voice. You know he's just hamming it up, but it's seriously turning you on. Your blush deepens to a more reddish hue, and Eddie's eyes sparkle when he takes notice. He makes his way over to you, his gloved hands meeting your waist for a moment. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Gettin' too warm in this dress?" He asks teasingly, his breath fanning against your neck. It sends a shiver up your spine, your eyes glued to his in the mirror. He chuckles at your awestruck face, slowly shaking his head. "You're gonna get me in trouble tonight, aren't you?" He asks, holding your gaze hostage. His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a breathy moan from you.

"M-maybe." You stutter, swallowing hard. You feel a familiar heat building between your legs, though you resist the urge to rub your thighs together. He'll only tease you more for it. He brings his lips right up to your ear, and you hold your breath in anticipation of the filthy thing he's undoubtedly going to say.

"You're lucky we're already late, babydoll. Otherwise, I'd lift this pretty little dress of yours and fuck you right here." His tone is low, almost a growl. His body just barely presses into yours, letting you feel his half-hard cock against your ass. Your pussy throbs, though he has no intention of starting anything right now. No, he's sure to tease you all night, until you're begging on your knees for him to rail you. Well, two can play at this game. But for now, you'll let him think this isn't a fair fight. You don't say anything else, and his expression softens to a loving smile again. "Now, let's get you ready to go." He says sweetly, lifting his hands away from your hips and up towards your head.

You position the wig where you need it to rest again, and Eddie holds it firmly in place while you pin it down. Thankfully, his helping hands finally get the damn thing to cooperate. You both let go, testing to see if it'll stay. You twist and shake your head around to make absolutely sure, and it doesn't budge. "Finally! Alright, let's go!" You cheer excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the front door.

The last couple of weeks since the two of you got back together have been absolutely amazing. Eddie's been sweeter than ever, if that's even possible. While you're off at school in the morning, he tidies up the apartment. Doing the dishes, scooping the litter box, making the bed. You always come back to a clean, organized home at the end of the day. It leaves you able to relax and put your feet up once you're both done with work in the evening.

He's been cooking up a storm, too. Trying out every new recipe he can find, either in the books you gave him, or even the new magazines he's started buying. Never did he think he'd exchange Playboy for Better Homes. You've been treated to all manner of cuisine, from enchiladas, to chicken fried rice, even roast duck. Eddie's become your very own Julia Child at this point, and you can't get enough. Everything he cooks is complete and utter magic, which leaves you begging for 'dessert' afterwards.

Speaking of, things have of course been unbelievably exquisite in that arena. Not one night has gone by without Eddie giving you some form of pleasure. Even if you're too tired to reciprocate, he doesn't care. He goes down on you anyway, letting you drift off to sleep while he cleans himself up afterwards. But you've done your best to make sure he's taken care of, too. He's been treating you like a queen, and you enjoy being as close and intimate with him as humanly possible. To sum up, life simply could not get any better than it is for you both right now. As one tricky man named Vizzini might say, that would be 'inconceivable'.

"There you two are! You're late!" Steve exclaims as he opens the door to let you and Eddie inside.

"Yeah, yeah. We know." You brush him off, giving him a curious once-over. He's dressed as Johnny from Dirty Dancing, donning some tight, rolled-up jeans and an even tighter black shirt. His hair is slicked back in the typical Swayze style, and he looks great. "Rad costume, Stevie." You compliment, pulling Eddie along by the hand to see who else has arrived at the party. It's pretty crowded already, a complete family affair. You survey the group, admiring their costumes for a moment before approaching.

Mom's dressed as a black cat, her signature costume for the last ten years. She's talking to Wayne by the punch bowl, who's dressed as Clint Eastwood from A Fistful of Dollars. The Wheelers are Wonder Woman and Superman, the Sinclairs are Cliff and Claire Huxtable from The Cosby Show. Erica is Whitney Houston, and Max is Ellen Ripley, the two of them chatting in a corner about some juicy gossip. Robin and a redhead you suspect is Vickie are Andie and Duckie from Pretty in Pink, dancing goofily in the living room to the music that's playing. Their costume is automatically the cutest of the bunch, they look amazing.

Even the Hopper/Byers clan are in attendance, coming all the way here for Nancy and Jonathan's wedding next week. Jim and Joyce are Paul and Holly from Breakfast at Tiffany's, looking as in love as ever. Jane is particularly bloody as Carrie White, pink prom dress and all. Jonathan and Nancy are Adam and Barbara from Beetlejuice, another great pick. And the remaining four kiddos, Mike, Will, Dustin, and Lucas are the Ghostbusters. You distinctly recall them having this costume a few years ago, but it appears they're sporting the gray jumpsuits from the second film this time.

It's so nice to have everyone in one place again. It's been quite some time since you've seen some of them. Everyone is just so busy with life, attending to their own goals and jobs, and school, and so on. Your heart swells at the smiles on everybody's faces, the happiness in the room swirling around you like a warm blanket.

"Shit, we're all a bunch of nerds!" Eddie chuckles loudly, drawing everyone's attention to your arrival.

"Y/N! Eddie!" Various voices cheer, many waves and smiles sent your way.

"You guys look great!" Robin compliments as she approaches, her arm wrapped around Vickie's waist.

"You're one to talk! You look totally bitchin', Rob! Easily the best-dressed here. And I'm guessing this is the lovely Vickie we've been hearing so much about?" You ask excitedly, so eager to finally meet her.

"Yeah, hi, it's nice to meet you! Y/N, right?" Vickie says sweetly, extending her hand to shake yours. You take it, nodding.

"Yep, that's me! And this is the love of my life, Eddie." You present your boyfriend to her, and they also exchange a quick shake.

"You are a very lucky girl, Rob. She's even prettier than you described her." Eddie says in a friendly tone.

"Oh, stop! She did not!" Vickie exclaims, waving her hand in disbelief.

"It's true, she never shuts up about you. And we love it." You reply, giving an affirming nod.

"Well, that's just too sweet." Vickie pouts playfully, turning to Robin to give her a warm kiss on the lips.

"Ugh, you guys are so cute!" You gush at their affection.

"Alright, enough with the love-fest. Here. You two need to catch up." Steve interjects, handing you and Eddie each a shot glass that's filled to the brim.

"Oh, be nice, Stevie." Robin chides.

"Nah, he's right. It's a party. Down the hatch. Right, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, looking at you while raising the glass toward his lips.

"Yep. Party time." You take the shot with him, swallowing as quickly as you can to avoid the thick burn of cheap vodka. You cough once it's down, a violent shiver working its way through you. "Fuck's sake." You suck in a breath, drawing a laugh from the others.

"That's okay, babydoll. You'll get used to it after a while." Eddie chuckles, completely unphased by the straight liquor. You suppose he's a bit more experienced with it than you. You usually mix your booze with something else to make it more palatable. "Another round, Harrington?" He asks.

"Yeah. Kitchen." Steve nods, leading the lot of you over. Nancy and Jonathan notice the five of you leaving the party, following to join you.

"Drinking without the soon-to-be-newlyweds?" Nancy asks as she and Jonathan pop their heads in the room.

"'Course not. Get in on this." Steve waves them over to the counter where he's setting up the shots. He pours them completely full again, trying to get the lot of you as fucked up as he can. He needs to loosen you guys up before his extra special date shows up. He's not sure you're all going to take it so well. Everyone takes one of the little glasses, raising them up. "A toast. To Nancy and Jonathan. May their marriage be full of love...a-and laughter and...all that other good shit." Steve says clumsily, having had a few already.

"Jesus, we'd better not let him make a speech at the wedding!" Jonathan jokes, earning laughs from all of you.

"I know, that was bad. Just...to Nancy and Jonathan!" Steve tries again, keeping it short and sweet this time.

"To Nancy and Jonathan!" The rest of you cheer, knocking back your shots as a group. Twisted faces and disgusted sounds fill the room as you swallow the alcohol. And then the doorbell rings.

"Who's that?" You ask, already starting to feel a little bit of a buzz. If you aren't careful, you'll be on your ass in no time.

"Um, my, uh, date." Steve answers awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Shit, really? Well, who is she? Gotta be a knockout, right?" Eddie asks teasingly, pulling you close to him by the waist.

"Yeah. You could say that. Lemme just一" Steve points toward the door as the bell rings once more, leaving the room abruptly.

"Well, that was weird. Did he tell you about this 'date', Rob?" You ask. If anyone would know who this mystery woman is, it would be her.

"I have no idea. The little shit seems to have kept it from me." She muses suspiciously.

"Yeah, just right over here, baby. Let's get you a drink." Steve says to his date as he leads her to the kitchen. His eyes avoid all of yours as he comes around the corner. And following close after him, dressed as the Baby to his Johnny, is Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" You shout angrily as her eyes meet yours apprehensively. She's got her hair curled in a short Bob, dressed in the iconic pink dress from the film.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Eddie asks, his grip tightening on your waist.

"I told you they wouldn't take it well, Steve." Chrissy says sadly, already about to turn away and head for the door.

"You're damn right! After what you did? No fucking way!" Robin adds, crossing her arms as she glares in the little slut's direction.

"Hey, now, quit it! I invited her, so she stays." Steve shouts over your protesting, carefully taking Chrissy's hand in his to keep her from running away.

"Of all the women in Hawkins, Steve...why her?" You ask furiously, staring daggers at the two of them. What the hell is he thinking?

"Look...we've been seeing each other for a couple of weeks." Steve explains, earning a collective groan from the room. "Come on! It's not like that!" He pleads with you all to understand. "We didn't plan for it. We ran into each other at the supermarket, and we got to talking. I really like her, you guys. I know things are...tense and everything, but she makes me happy. And JJ, too." He gives Chrissy an adoring look, one that she immediately returns. She's barely said a word since she showed up, but that glance says it all. She's moved on, trying to put her life back together. And Steve, he's been wanting something like this for so long. This could be the real deal for him. As much as it angers you to see her here, you want him to be happy.

Damn me for wanting to be a good friend, you think to yourself. You sigh, breaking the tense silence. "You really mean it, Stevie? You care about her, and her son? This isn't some fleeting hook-up thing?" You ask, unable to believe the words are even coming out of your mouth. Where's the real Y/N, and what have you done with her?

"Yeah. I care about her. A lot." Steve coos to Chrissy, his smile doubling.

"And you feel the same, Chrissy?" You ask. This is all you need from her, confirmation that your relationship isn't in jeopardy with her around.

"Yeah, I really do." She replies, breaking Steve's loving gaze to meet your eyes.

"Alright. Then we're square." You shrug, letting the issue go entirely. You reach over for the bottle of vodka, filling up your glass again. You down it with ease, not even flinching this time.

"Really?" The others ask in unison. You're being oddly mature about this, much to everybody's surprise.

"Yeah. Why not? It's Halloween, and it's a party. I'm tired of drama." You say calmly, going over to Chrissy for a moment. As much as you're willing to look past this, you need to at least give her one final warning. You stand right in front of her, crossing your arms seriously. You lean your face towards hers, just centimeters away. Your vodka-stained breath fans in her face. The room is so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. "But...if you so much as look at Eddie in a way that I don't like, I'm gonna kick your ass into next week. Got it?" You speak in a threatening tone, holding her stare with intense fury.

"Got it." She nods her head, unadulterated fear pooling in her widened pupils.

"Good. Now, let's party!" You switch off the intimidation tactics, becoming happy and bubbly again. It sends a collective shiver through everyone, how eerie it is that you can flip on a dime like that. "C'mon, Eds. I wanna dance." You take a stunned Eddie by the hand, dragging him out of the kitchen and towards the living room that serves as a dance floor. Some bullshit rock song is playing, loud and thrashing. Just what your body needs to move to right now. You want to let loose, to let go of all the shit you've been hanging onto once and for all.

"You alright, Y/N?" Eddie asks over the music as you turn your back to him and press your body against his. His hands meet your waist out of habit, swaying with you to the music.

"Yeah, I'm fine! I might already be a little tipsy, though!" You reply with a giggle, feeling a bit unsteady on your feet.

"That's alright. Just pace yourself, baby." Eddie politely warns, speaking lowly in your ear.

"I will, Eds. I just wanna have fun." You chuckle clumsily, turning yourself around to face him. Your arms sling over his shoulders, and your eyes meet his. He's looking a little uneasy, though he tries to hide it with a crooked smile. "What's wrong, love?" You ask him, hoping he's not worried about you causing a scene or something. It'd be rather rude of you to ruin the party for everyone.

"Nothin', sweetheart. I'm just surprised. I thought you'd kick her ass or something." He laughs nervously.

"I thought about it for a second. But, Steve looked so happy. I don't wanna stand in the way of that." You reply sweetly, replaying the unbelievably joyous expression you saw on Steve's face in the kitchen. You've never seen him look like that before. But you've seen Eddie look at you that way, the unmistakable face of love. You only hope Chrissy won't break Steve's heart. You'll definitely kick her ass if she does that.

"He sure did, huh? I've never really seen the guy be anything but sad or irritated before. Maybe Chrissy is who he's been searching for all this time." Eddie shrugs, trying to put himself on the same page as you on this. He won't lie, it made him pretty fucking angry to see her here, at first. And the fact that Steve would even get involved with her after everything that happened isn't great. But it's like you said, who are any of you to stand in the way of his happiness? It's not like your relationships are exactly conventional, either.

"I agree. They seem like a good pair. And I bet Steve is great with JJ, he's got that paternal instinct down pat." You smile.

"He certainly does, angel." Eddie smiles back, and the both of you allow the issue to rest. It's out of your hands now, and thankfully so. The two of you just want to enjoy this night, to hang out with your friends and family.

You and Eddie continue to dance for a while, bumping and grinding to the music and subtly teasing each other all the while. You have a couple more drinks, taking a break every so often to stop sweating and chat with the other guests. You catch up with Dustin about his time at Caltech, and Eddie talks to Wayne for a little bit over by the snacks. Your eyes glance over at their conversation, finding them looking rather hushed and secretive. You aren't sure what it's about, but you catch their eye at one point, and they give you identical smiles and waves to deter you from investigating. You put it out of your mind for now, it's probably just another amazing surprise of some kind that Eddie loves to spring on you.

After another rousing round of dancing and holding each other close, you find yourselves needing some cool fall air to turn down the heat a little. You head outside to the pool deck, making a spot for yourselves in a couple of lounge chairs. You sit down beside each other, and Eddie pulls a joint from some mysterious place inside his costume. You watch wordlessly as he lights it between his lips, taking a deep hit before handing it off to you.

"You gonna share that?" Robin asks, startling the both of you as her and the others have followed you outside.

"Shit." Eddie coughs as he's caught off guard, smoke billowing out of his mouth. "Yeah. Join the party." He grins through his light hacking, gesturing at the empty chairs for them to take a seat. He also gets up from his own chair to make some room, snuggling up with you on yours. The other three couples pile onto the remaining loungers, keeping each other warm in the biting night air. You take your turn with the joint, inhaling deeply and giving it to the person to your right, who happens to be Robin.

"Thanks." She smiles, putting her lips to the end of the small roll.

"You bring any more, Munson? I doubt one little joint is enough for eight people." Steve asks at the very end of the line, with Chrissy half-laying on top of him.

"No shit, Harrington. Though I have my reservations about sharing with you and your...date." Eddie narrows his eyes a little in their direction, earning a light smack on his chest from you.

"Play nice, baby. We can stand to make a dent in the ridiculously large stash Rick gave you when you stopped dealing." You scold, gesturing for him to procure another joint for the new lovebirds.

"Alright, hang on." Eddie sighs, digging around inside his clothes to pull out the goods. "Pass these over, Rob." He says, giving three joints to her to transport down the line. One for each couple, that oughta do it. Robin returns the lit one you'd originally passed to her, taking the fresh ones in exchange. "Everybody happy now?" He asks, still sounding somewhat peeved.

"Yeah." Steve says with a pleased smile, pulling out his lighter.

"And what do you say when your good friend Eddie gives you drugs?" Eddie questions, expecting some goddamn gratitude for providing extra entertainment.

"Thank you, Eddie." The others say teasingly.

"Damn right." He nods, happy with the response. "Quit hoggin' it, babydoll." He chuckles, snatching the half-gone joint away from you.

"Sorry." You giggle, exhaling a cloud of smoke. You lay your head on Eddie's chest, waiting for your turn again. After a few minutes, the world starts to slow down. It appears you're already feeling the effects. You listen to the sizzling of the joints burning away, the sounds of heavy breathing as everyone lets out lazy streams of white into the still air. Your hands and face become highly aware of the feel of Eddie's costume against your skin, your head lightly nuzzling into his chest while your hands drag up and down his body as if wallowing through molasses.

"Jesus, it always hits you so hard, sweetheart." Eddie laughs, watching the hazy image of you feeling him up. The contact does feel really good, which is making him get a little hard inside his tight pants. He's gonna have to steal you away to some empty part of the house in a minute if you don't stop.

"Sorry, you just feel so nice." You sigh dreamily, lifting your head up to meet his reddened eyes. You find his Cheshire smile waiting for you, which means one thing, and one thing only. You're turning him on. He's still got the joint pinched between his fingers, only a couple drags left. "Now who's hoggin' it?" You ask with a sexy pout, tapping your thumb and forefinger together for him to hand it over.

"Ugh, get a room!" Robin teases, falling into a cackling fit afterwards. Vickie follows shortly after, and the others as well. It appears everyone isn't too far off from where you're at, their minds turning to mush as the weed takes over their systems.

You look over at the other pairs, namely Steve and Chrissy at the far end. They've stopped laughing rather quickly, and Chrissy is straddling Steve's lap while heavily making out with him. Normally, that sight would bother you, remind you of a certain housewarming party that shall remain nameless. But watching their tongues tangle together while their hands wander aimlessly...it's actually kinda hot. It makes you highly aware that there's a sexy metalhead you're laying on top of right now, which leaves you suddenly wanting him so badly.

"Hey, Eds?" You whisper to him, trying your best not to laugh as you speak. You're biting your lip so hard to keep the giggles in, very amused with the inappropriate things oozing around in your mind.

"Yes, angel?" He says just as quietly, also struggling to hold it together.

"Once we finish this, you wanna sneak off somewhere? Just you and me?" You ask lowly, giving him your best attempt at 'fuck me' eyes.

"You read my mind, princess. Go on, don't waste it." Eddie replies in a smooth growl, coaxing you into taking the last hit. You do, inhaling as much smoke as your lungs can take. You hold it in, bringing your face closer to his. He picks up on what you're doing, allowing you to press your mouth to his, shotgunning the smoke past his lips. You both hum into the kiss, unable to resist rolling your tongues together while he holds the smoke inside as long as he can. You feel absolutely drenched between your legs already, wanting so badly to straddle him on this chair and have your way with him. He carefully pushes you away to exhale, his eyes burning with desire as the smoke flows outwards. The two of you stand up without another word, stumbling as your bodies feel much lighter than usual. Eddie takes your hand, leading you towards the house to find a place to fuck your brains out.

"Where are you two going?" Jonathan asks dumbly.

"I think we all know where they're off to, dude." Steve chuckles, giving Eddie a thumbs up as Chrissy kisses his neck and claws at his chest. "Just don't make too much of a mess, yeah?"

"No promises, Harrington. This one's...unpredictable." Eddie chuckles cockily, winking at Steve.

"Eddie!" You gasp, smacking his chest with the back of your hand.

"Sorry, angel. C'mon." He sweetly apologizes, flashing his best puppy eyes at you. You let his comment slide, focusing on the task at hand. His arm goes around your waist, and the two of you return to the warmth of the house. You manage to sneak past everyone in the party. You'd hate to be interrupted by an unwanted conversation right now. Especially when all you can think about is ripping each other's clothes off. Eddie leads you upstairs, the din of the party becoming muffled as he pulls you into Steve's parent's room. "Go into the bathroom, Y/N." He orders politely as he closes and locks the door.

"Why?" You ask with a giggle, wondering what he's up to.

"'Cuz I wanna look at you in the mirror while I fuck you, baby." He explains seductively, his tongue playing at the corner of his grinning lips.

"Oh, okay." You do as he says, going into the rather spacious bathroom connected to the bedroom. You position yourself in front of one of the twin mirrors, your hands resting on the edge of the sink. Eddie walks in behind you, slowly looking over your body.

"Been thinkin' about this all night, babydoll. I wish we were still at home, but this'll have to do." He speaks lowly in your ear once he reaches you, his hands meeting your hips again. Just like at the apartment. His masked face looks at yours in the reflection, his eyes blown wide with lust. Eddie moves your synthetic hair to the side, lowering his head to kiss your neck.

"Eddie." You immediately melt into him, feeling his bulge poking into your ass like it was a few hours earlier. He sucks your flesh harshly, heating you up from the inside out. The weed has heightened your senses, as it always does.

"Bend over, Y/N. I need you now. I don't wanna wait." He says, his voice burning with desire. You do as he commands, resting your forearms on the counter to lower yourself for him. His hands slide down your hips, reaching to pull the long skirt of your dress upwards. He folds it over your back, revealing your completely bare pussy that's already started dripping on the floor. "Fuck, sweetheart. No panties? Someone's been a naughty princess." Eddie chuckles darkly, bringing a gloved hand between your spread thighs. The leather meets your throbbing clit, making you moan aloud. He doesn't stay there long, his eyes glued to yours as he slips two fingers past your soaked entrance with force.

"Eddie!" You cry out as he rapidly curls his clothed digits inside of you.  There's no doubt your juices are making a mess of the leather.

"Better keep it down, love. I'd hate for Claudia to hear what I'm doing to her sweet little sugarpuff." He teases you with his words, in a way that's borderline cruel. But you like it, you want him to be rough and dominating again. He's been so sugary sweet lately, which you appreciate very much. But when he takes control and sexually bullies you, that will always be your favorite version of Eddie. He continues to warm you up, though you truly didn't need much of it to begin with. You can't stop letting out desperate little moans as the pleasure is so overwhelming. This is probably another favorite thing of yours, having sex with Eddie while you're both high out of your minds. "You gonna be a good girl and keep quiet for me? Or do I have to shut you up?" Eddie asks, giving your ass a good smack with his free hand.

"Fuck." You mutter at the harsh sting, which quickly melts down into a warm buzz towards your core. Your head falls forward toward the sink, all you can focus on is the feeling of Eddie's fingers making you all wet and sticky.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." He commands you again, his tone carrying a well-established warning. If you don't behave, he'll stop altogether. Your punishment? He'll make you watch as he jerks himself off, not allowing you to touch him, or yourself. And you can't have that.

"Sorry. I'll be good, I'll be quiet. I promise." You reply breathlessly, forcing your head up to meet his fiery gaze.

"Good girl." He slaps your ass again, harder this time. You bite down on your lip to muffle your scream, almost hard enough to draw blood. "You ready for me, angel?" Eddie asks sweetly, continuing to finger you while he unties the strings on his pants.

"Yes, love. I want you so bad, I need you inside me." You pathetically beg for him to give you want you've been craving all night.

"That's what I like to hear, sweetheart." Eddie smirks as he pulls out his stiff cock, stroking it lazily in his hand. His eyes drop down for a moment, and he lets out a low groan once he sees just how drenched you are. "Jesus christ." Your juices are pooling in the palm of his glove, having spread all down the fingers and wrist. That's definitely going to leave the lasting scent of your sweet little pussy in the fabric.

"Just for you, Eds." You giggle lustfully, very pleased with yourself and the mess you've made. You know how crazy it drives him to see you so goddamn wet, and to have the knowledge that your cunt is just waiting...aching for him to fill you up. Eddie doesn't say anything, far too zeroed in on how much he's dying to be inside you. He positions his cock underneath the hand that's still fingering you, sliding his leaking tip across your clit a few times. "Baby, please...don't tease me." You whine, unable to help wiggling your hips a little as you become impatient.

"Just a sec, princess. Lemme feel you first, you're already such a fuckin' mess for me." Eddie pants, eyes threatening to roll back as your juices slick over him.

"Eddie..." You whimper helplessly, your clit sparking with every slip of his dick between your legs. Everything feels too damn good, and he's barely done anything at all.

"Shh, it's alright, babydoll. I'll give you what you want." Eddie coos, carefully slipping his fingers out of you, and immediately replacing it with his long, thick cock. He slides inside like a knife through butter, your walls greeting him with an affectionate squeeze. "Ah...fuck." His head falls forward for a moment as he's overcome with pleasure.

Meanwhile, you're bent over with your breath caught in your throat, unable to comprehend how amazing such a simple gesture feels. You both stay still for a moment, staring at each other in the mirror with awestruck faces. Your pussy repeatedly clenches around Eddie's length, completely outside of your control. It's like the innermost part of you is doing the talking now, screaming for its life to get what it wants. Needs. He grabs hold of your hip, your leftover arousal wetting your bare skin. His other hand reaches around to cup your throat, ready to put on the pressure once he starts thrusting. Without any words spoken, Eddie slowly pulls back, before slamming back into your weeping hole.

"Fuck..." You moan together as quietly as you can, the vulgar word leaving your mouths as a half-mangled wail. Every single inch of him can feel each last centimeter of you, and vice-versa. Your nerve-endings have been set aflame, charges of electric pleasure shocking through you in an unstoppable current. This-less-than secret screw certainly won't take long, but that doesn't mean you won't enjoy every last moment of it. Eddie starts pumping his hips, gliding his dick in and out of your cunt with ease. He moves steadily, not too fast, not too slow. The perfect speed to keep you both going for as long as possible.

"Shit, you're so fuckin' wet, baby." Eddie groans as he thrusts, dribbles of your arousal spilling out around the seams where your bodies meet. You're creating quite the puddle between his boots. "Mm, I love this pussy, sweetheart. You know that?" He asks breathily, his eyes following his length disappearing inside you again and again, coming out more shiny every time.

"Yeah, and I love your cock, Eds...So big, always able to make me feel better than anything else could." You reply, your brains turning to sludge as he fucks you. The overpowering sensation is nonstop, filling your entire being with warm, fuzzy feelings of bliss. Eddie squeezes lightly on your throat now, making your head even lighter than it already was. You let out a strangled moan at the action, relishing in how delicious the leather feels around your neck.

"That's it, such a good little slut. You always take me so well, babydoll." Eddie purrs, increasing the pressure on your throat the tiniest bit. He smirks at your eyes rolling back, the muted sound that begs to leave your windpipe. He slams his hips against you once, another noiseless emission forming on your lips. He does this a few more times, bringing you very close to the edge. He lets go of your neck to let you breathe, grasping your other hip now to focus on railing you to your climax.

"Am I better than her, Eds?" You ask, unsure how that private thought has slipped out. Eddie stops for a second, eyes widening in confusion.

"What?" He asks, wondering what you're talking about. In his mind, there's no one else. Only you. Only you can drive him this insane. Only you can make him rock hard with a single glance. Only you can make him cum as intensely and as often as he does. Not a single other person he's been with holds a candle to you.

"Am I better than Chrissy, Eds? Is my pussy sweeter? Tighter? Wetter?" You ask again, clearer this time. You already know the answer, but you want to hear it from him. You have to. You don't know why, but you have to.

After a moment, it dawns on him, and he tuts. "Oh, sweetheart. Of course you are. You're better than anyone else in the entire world, Y/N." He says, lovingly stroking your waist in his hands for a moment. "Turn around, baby. And hop up for me." Eddie kindly instructs, pulling out and backing up to give you some room. You do as he asks, resting on the very edge of the counter. He puts himself between your legs, which quickly wrap around his back to keep him close. "I love you so much, angel. You're everything I've ever wanted. You know that, don't you?" He speaks affectionately, bringing his cock back to your needy entrance. He slips inside just as easily as before, if not moreso. Breathy moans leave your mouths, and Eddie's arm wraps around you to make you feel safe and secure.

"I know, Eds. And I feel the same, I love you more than anything." You reply, barely able to form a sentence as that sweet, all-consuming feeling returns to you. You gaze deep into each other's eyes, breath fanning between you in a heady cloud of weed and vodka. "Now, are you gonna rail me, or what?" You ask lowly, very eager to get things going again.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He chuckles darkly, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. His tongue finds its way into your mouth in no time, tangling with yours as he starts to build up his rhythm again. You whimper down each other's throats, hands grasping wherever they can reach. His clamped on your hips, yours clawing into his back.

"More, baby. Fuck me harder. I need you to ruin me." You plead between hungry kisses, your orgasm growing to a boil once more. He gives you what you want, his thighs slamming loudly against the cabinets below as he rams himself into you.

"Is this better, love?" Eddie asks through his panting.

"Yes! Fuck, Eds...feels so good. Don't stop." You answer, scratching deep into his back through his billowy shirt.

"I wouldn't dream of it, baby." He grunts, pushing himself to go harder. "Shit, you're so perfect inside, angel. Not gonna last much longer." He moans as the slick sounds of your pussy mingle loudly with the repeated banging against the cabinet doors. You're making quite a lot of noise, despite Eddie's warning to keep it down before. Self-control has gone at least half-way out the window at this point. Someone can probably hear you two going at it, if not everyone in the entire house. But honestly, no amount of shame on earth could ruin the growing swell of love and ecstasy you're both feeling right now.

"I'm so close, Eds. Make me cum, baby. I wanna soak your cock, wanna feel you cum inside me." You spit the words out in a jumbled whimper, unable to help yourself. You're a complete mess inside and out, clinging to Eddie for dear life, sweat pooling in the back and underarms of your dress.

Eddie's not doing much better in composing himself. He's grunting and groaning in your ear, because his head has fallen to rest on your shoulder to have some semblance of stability. His hands are digging so deep into your hips, sure to leave gloriously dark bruises for your admiration tomorrow. "Gonna fill you so good, sweetheart...have my load drippin' down your thighs all night...and no one will know but us, what a filthy little slut you are...just for me. Right, babydoll?" Eddie mumbles mindlessly between thrusts, though you hear every last word loud and clear.

"Yes, baby. Your slut, all yours." You nod your head as you speak, eyes falling shut as your climax hits you like an eighteen-wheeler speeding down the highway. "Eddie!" You cry out his name, far, far too loud for anyone not to notice. But it's too late for you to care, as unearthly pleasure slices its way across your body. It tears you to pieces, rearranging you into an entirely new being like some kind of fucked-up jigsaw puzzle. And you love every second of it. Your legs tremble around Eddie's waist, insides clamping down on his cock. Your nails slash across his back, with such force that you hear the abrupt riiiiiip of his shirt cutting through the typical sounds of sex. Your pussy gushes wetly with hot, sticky cum that covers your thighs and his, as well as spilling sloppily onto the floor.

"Y/N...oh my god..." Eddie gasps in surprise at just how phenomenal you squirting on him feels this time around, his own high taking hold. "Fuck, baby..." He chuckles in disbelief, allowing his hips to buck lazily as he pumps his thick load inside your spent cunt. He doesn't expect much of it to stay inside, given that you're still leaking everywhere. But he's far too satisfied and smiling to care anymore.

Your tired bodies collapse into each other, the both of you breathing so hard as your hearts pound relentlessly. "I love you, Eds." You say, swallowing thickly as your throat has become rather dry.

"I love you too, Y/N." Eddie replies, carefully pulling his softened dick out of you. Another splash of your mixed release comes with it, joining the massive flood on the tiles below. Your heads drift down to follow it, eyes widening at the aftermath. "Jesus, sweetheart." He murmurs, using every ounce of self-control in his body to not fall to his knees and lick up every last drop.

"Steve's gonna be pissed." You blurt, causing you both to burst out laughing. You spend a little too long cackling, your faces going red and lungs burning until you eventually calm down.

"We'd better clean this up. I don't want Harrington sending us a bill or something." Eddie says, clearing his throat to keep from laughing again. He puts his cock away, tying up his pants. He helps you off the countertop, making sure you don't slip on the huge puddle. The two of you find some towels and cleaning spray to take care of the mess. It doesn't take long, and once you clean yourselves off a little and toss the soiled towels in a nearby hamper, you head back downstairs to the party. The festivities appear to still be in full swing once you return, everyone's drinking and dancing and chatting as they were before. It doesn't seem like anyone actually heard you at all, much to your surprise. "Drink, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, guessing you're probably in need of some water.

"Yes, please." You reply softly, nodding. He briefly leaves you, and you approach Robin and Vickie who are sitting on the couch. Vickie is in Robin's lap, legs laid sideways to keep her skirt from riding up. Robin's arms are wrapped around her waist, holding her nice and close. They really are a pretty pair. They look so perfect for each other, despite this being the first time you've seen them together.

"So, how was it?" Robin asks cheekily as you sit down beside them.

"Ugh, amazing. You have no idea." You answer with a blissful sigh, your head falling to rest on the back of the couch. You feel so perfectly relaxed right now, like everything is exactly as it should be.

"Well, I'd hope so. We could all hear you...loud and clear." She teases, falling into a fit of laughter afterwards.

"Yeah, I figured as much. But honestly, I don't even care." You shrug with a light chuckle, still sitting pretty on cloud motherfucking nine. Eddie finds you staring at nothing on the ceiling a couple minutes later, with water and a plate of snacks in hand.

"Still feelin' it, angel?" Eddie asks with a smirk, lazily drawing your eyes to his.

"Oh, yeah. Big time." You reply, forcing yourself to stand so Eddie can sit under you. You return to his lap, and he places the snacks over yours. "Ooh! I'm starving." You chirp, immediately picking up a cheese cube and popping it in your mouth, moaning quietly at the taste.

"You'd better share, babydoll. Greedy girls get punished." Eddie growls in your ear, gently nipping the lobe between his teeth. He's still reeling after what you did together upstairs. The image of your sweet juices all over the floor is stained on his less-than-sober mind. He's getting all hot and bothered again just thinking about it.

"I'm counting on it." You purr, turning your head to look at him as you pick up a pretzel from the plate. You bring it up to your lips, taking it into your mouth and munching slowly. You put in another, and another, not breaking his stare as you slowly eat away at the food. You pick up one more, holding it between your fingers and gesturing for Eddie to open up. Thinking you're finally going to share, he does. But you quickly reroute it inside your own mouth instead, giggling with delight as you chew.

Eddie chuckles darkly, shaking his head in thinly-veiled frustration at your disobedience. "Oh, you're gonna regret that when we get home, honey." He says, his voice carrying a tone you know all too well. A tone that means you won't be getting a wink of sleep tonight. Not until your ass is spanked raw, and your pussy is left overflowing with load after load of his cum.

To be continued...

[captainsophiestark]

The Dread Pirate Roberts

Westley x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023​ which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Also, this fic wasn’t a request, but I’m dedicating it to @auroracalisto​ who is my fellow Princess Bride fangirl searching desperately for fic with me

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Prompt: Poseidon; Sea, Water, Storms

Summary: Prince Humperdinck has set his sights on Y/N to marry, but she can't simply forget the love of her life, Westley, and give that up for a life with the prince. So, she decides to run, taking a boat and setting sail for new horizons like her farm boy did so long ago.

Word Count: 3,192

Category: Angst and fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I glanced back over my shoulder one last time as I undid the last of the lines holding my boat to the dock. In the dead of night, I couldn't see much, but in the far distance the lights of the capital city of Florin stared back at me. This would likely be the last time I saw this place.

A few weeks ago, I'd been in town to do some shopping for my family, taking a bit of a rare adventure away from our farm. While I'd been walking through the market, a procession had ridden through on horseback. Among the group of young soldiers and officials was none other than Prince Humperdinck, apparently in the city to visit his subjects before going back behind the walls of his massive palace. By some strange stroke of luck, he'd seen me, and apparently decided I was someone he wanted to get to know.

We'd spent the rest of the day walking around the market, surrounded by his guards, talking and taking in the day. At first, I hadn't minded. What other opportunity would I get to speak with a prince, after all? I told him of the troubles I faced in the countryside, and about things I thought might help or fix them. He listened closely, and I thought I might actually be making a difference. He even invited me to return to the capital city and the palace in a few days' time to continue our conversations. Of course I'd said yes, excited that the prince had listened to me and wanted to hear more of what I had to say.

And then, when I arrived at the castle, he proposed to me. To make matters worse, it was clear from the minute I set foot in that place his proposal came out of a place of attraction to me physically, and absolutely nothing else.

I immediately knew I wanted nothing to do with him, especially not in that way. I'd already met the love of my life, and although I'd lost him when he went off to sea and left my family farm, my love for him had never faded. Perhaps, someday, I'd be willing to love someone else, but that day was not today, and no matter what I knew it wouldn't be love for Prince Humperdinck. However, there was no saying no to the Crown Prince. So, to escape the fate of the loveless life I surely faced if I agreed to marry him, I'd decided to leave this land once and for all.

I'd had very little time to make plans or preparations, since my window to escape Humperdinck was incredibly small. I'd managed to pull together some provisions and to secure a small boat, that hopefully I'd be able to sail on my own. I was no expert sailor, but I could get by well enough to leave the country. I'd had no time to tell my family or anyone else I cared about, but eventually, I'd decided that might be for the best. This way, they'd have deniability when people eventually came asking about where I'd gone or why I'd left.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then chucked the final tether ashore and away from me. I ran around, adjusting the rigging and sails on my small boat as I drifted out of the harbor. There was a light wind tonight, perfect for helping me make my escape. The gods of the sea were watching out for me, or else my darling Westley, the love I'd lost to the sea, now acting as my guardian angel.

It was fitting, I supposed, that I'd eventually follow him out here. I hoped to find a new place to call home, somewhere no one knew me or my connections to the Prince of Florin, but nothing was guaranteed. This may well be the place I perished, to finally join Westley after he lost his life to the Dread Pirate Roberts.

I sat up all night, manning the lines and making sure my sails were always adjusted to catch the winds. I made good progress, leaving Florin in my wake, and eventually got comfortable enough that I could sleep for short periods of time in between making sure everything went smoothly. I'd actually managed to gather a decent amount of provisions, and I started to feel more hopeful about my prospects on this ship to find a new land.

At least, until a storm hit.

I woke up just after twilight on the third night since I'd left, being almost rocked out of my seat by the waves tossing my boat about. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the remaining sleep fog as the waves continued to grow around me. I swore as I looked to the horizon, only to find darker clouds and bigger waves. I was headed straight into the center of what appeared to be a very big storm.

I ran to the rigging, trying to change course. I wrestled the ship into a sharp right turn, thinking I could run along the edge of the storm until, hopefully, I past it. I'd never be able to outrun it by going back the way I came, and the odds of me finding the eye of the storm before I capsized were fairly low. I had no other way out.

I wrestled the rigging until my arms burned, and then found a way to keep going. Despite my best efforts, however, the storm only got worse around me. I clung to the ship, praying for a miracle or some way out of this, and then suddenly, I was underwater.

A massive wave must've finally managed to swamp my boat. I floated for a moment, letting my natural buoyancy show me which way was up so I didn't accidently swim further from the surface before I at last made my push upwards. I gasped once my head broke the surface, searching frantically for something to help keep me afloat.

I found a piece of my now-smashed ship not too far from me and swam towards it wildly, clinging onto it for dear life once I reached it. I frantically tried to come up with an idea to save myself, but I kept drawing a blank.

I was going to die here, tossed among the waves, resigned to a similar fate as my dear Westley. There was a certain poetry to that, I supposed, even as I fought back tears at the hopeless feeling now welling in my stomach.

Then, out of a break in the waves, I saw the mast of a ship coming closer to me. My heart leapt, and I started shouting and waving, doing my best to catch its attention. It was a far bigger ship than mine had been, meaning it hadn't lost its struggle with the massive waves around us. Maybe I had a hope of making it out of this after all.

That hope immediately died when I caught sight of the flag flying over the mast as the ship got closer to me and the wind changed. They were flying the Jolly Roger.

I stopped waving, debating mentally whether it was better to stay in the water or be caught by pirates, but apparently a decision had been made for me. They'd already seen me, and I could hear shouting and see people pointing to me as the ship came even closer. I braced myself, trying to be as ready as possible for whatever this new challenge brought. I had been the one who'd decided to run, after all, and I knew in my heart I didn't regret that decision one bit, no matter what this new hell might bring me.

Before I knew it, I'd been fished out of the water and hauled on deck. I quickly backed away from the men who'd gotten me on board, and although most of them didn't pay me any attention in the chaos of trying to keep the boat afloat, two followed me as my back came up against the main mast, halting me in my tracks.

The men stared at me as they stalked closer, and every muscle in my body went into fight or flight mode. The man a bit further back from me seemed to be taking cues from the other man, his eyes darting between me and who I assumed must be the leader. The leader, the one closest to me, was dressed in all black with a mask on his face, his ice blue eyes tracking my every movement. My heart stopped dead in my chest. I'd never seen him before, but I'd heard enough legends and stories to know beyond a shadow of a doubt who this man was.

Before me stood the Dread Pirate Roberts.

A fury like none I'd ever felt raged through me, replacing the panic and fear that came before. This man was responsible for the death of my Westley. I glared at him, putting the full force of my hate into the look, then glanced around for a sword or something else to attack him with. I'd most likely die on this ship anyway, so I might as well go out attempting to get some justice for my lost love.

"You! What were you doing out in this storm?" yelled the pirate over the waves. I glared back at him and ignored his question.

He waited a few long moments for my response, then huffed in irritation. He looked around at his crew and the storm still raging on all sides, then back at his first mate.

"Keep us from sinking! I'll be back!" he roared at the man behind him before turning back to me. The man rushed off to fulfill his orders, leaving me more or less alone with Westley's murderer.

Before I could even attempt to make a move for revenge, the pirate surged forward and grabbed me by the arm. His grip was like iron, and although I fought against him, I couldn't break away. He dragged me across the deck of the ship with surprising strength, up the stairs to the ship's wheel where a navigator wrestled against the wind and waves, and then through a door to what I assumed must be his private quarters. He shoved me into a chair as soon as we were through the door, slamming it behind us before turning back to me.

I moved to stand from the chair, but before I could, he had his sword at my throat. I glowered up at him as he spoke again, a deadly calm to his voice.

"Now, I'll ask you again–and I expect an answer this time. What were you doing out in that storm?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists, debating whether it would be worth it to answer or if I should just let him slit my throat. After a moment's hesitation, however, I decided I didn't really want to die if I could avoid it, especially not before I found some way to get even the slightest justice for Westley.

"I was escaping the hell of being married to a man I don't love, a monster second only to yourself," I hissed. The pirate stared back at me for a few moments, seemingly considering my words, then spoke.

"Explain."

I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to get my temper under some kind of control.

"I caught the eye of Prince Humperdinck," I finally managed. "I had no desire to marry him, but he's not a prince who takes well to the word 'no'. Running was my only option, so I secured a boat and set sail as soon as possible."

"On your own?"

I nodded once, not bothering with a verbal answer.

"And being a princess was such a horrifying fate that you risked death in its stead?"

I sneered. "Being wed to someone I don't love after knowing what true love feels like is a fate worse than death, yes. And thanks to you I will never have my happy ending with my love, for he died at your sword while he was out attempting to gain enough fortunes for us to finally marry."

"...And what was this man's name?"

"Westley," I replied without hesitation. Up until now I'd been staring back at the Dread Pirate in rage, but my tone softened and my focus shifted to the distance as I got lost in memories of my beloved farm boy. "He was good and kind, something you'd know nothing about. He loved me, and despite the simple life we led together, we were happy. We could've lived long, wonderful lives together, but now that will never happen. So threaten me with your sword and whatever else you want. Nothing you say or do will ever match what I've already had to endure."

I faced the pirate again as I delivered the end of my speech, only to find him staring back at me with slightly wide eyes. When I'd finished speaking, he stared at me for a moment longer, before finally dropping his sword to his side. Another beat, and then he'd dropped to his knees before me, staring up at me like I was the sun. I leaned back a bit, confused, until he tore off the black mask covering so much of his face and looked up at me again.

Westley. Somehow, by some miracle, I was staring into the face of Westley, the love of my life.

"I... How... What kind of trick is this?" I demanded, trying to get my head straight. Had I been drugged somehow?

"No trick, my love," he replied, staring at me dreamily. He scooted a bit closer to me, but didn't touch me, instead letting me work through my thoughts.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded, sounding a bit more desperate than I wanted to.

"As you wish."

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but I didn't bother listening. That was enough to satisfy any lingering doubts I had. I didn't understand it, but I could also say with complete certainty that this was, in fact, my Westley.

I slid out of my seat, joining him on the floor on my knees. We were face to face, and he smiled softly at me, but I didn't give him a chance to do much more before I pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

After a few seconds of shock, he kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. I ran my hands through his hair, over his arms, across his shoulders–anywhere I could reach. I'd gone years without Westley, my darling farm boy, the love of my life, and I needed every bit of confirmation I could get that he was here, and this was real.

We stayed like that for long minutes, only pausing our kiss once or twice to come up for air. When we finally broke apart, I laid my head on his shoulder, holding him tight to me as he likewise held onto me, a few tears finally starting to fall.

"Westley..." I breathed, relief flooding through my system as I felt his strong arms around me and heard the steady beat of his heart. "How is this possible?"

"When the Dread Pirate Roberts raided my ship, he didn't kill me," Westley breathed, speaking softly against my ear as he ran his hands up and down my back. "I begged him for my life, and I told him about you. My love, who I needed to return to. I told him I couldn't die because I couldn't leave you.

"He ended up sparing me that day. He kept me prisoner, and told me each day he'd most likely kill me in the morning. Over the course of time, he trained me, and I learned everything to do with being the Dread Pirate Roberts. Eventually, he told me his secret. He was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. He was a man called Ryan, who had inherited the position from someone else who was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. The title carries more weight than anything else, and so the name has been passed down every few years, the previous Dread Pirate Roberts retiring with their fortune after choosing and training their successor. He'd chosen me to be his, and a few days after he told me as much, we docked at a small island port. We hired a completely new crew, and then he left. I've been the Dread Pirate Roberts ever since."

"I... I can hardly believe it."

"Imagine how I felt when I found you bobbing in the water just as I was finally on my way back to you," he chuckled. I huffed a laugh with him, then at last pulled back to look him in the eyes again.

"So... what now? What do we do next?"

"Well, we can't stay on the ship. It's not the best place to start a life together, to say nothing of the questions it would raise that I left you alive."

"Of course."

"And you can't return to Florin or, truly, any country near it, lest the 'prince' find you and throw a wrench into our newfound happiness."

"Agreed."

"Then that really only leaves one option, doesn't it?"

"And what might that be?" I asked, smiling and leaning into Westley as he stared at me, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"To find a completely new place and start over, of course. I've already picked my successor–I was planning to promote him once I reached the shores of Florin, but now I'll wait until we find our new home."

"My love, I can't think of a plan I'd more like to initiate," I said, beaming happily back at him. He leaned down and kissed me again, then pulled away to stare at me with love in his eyes.

"So, where shall we go?"

"I'd say you know the lands far from Florin's reach far better than I. You choose. But... pick someplace with green fields, and perhaps a gorgeous lake we can swim in on hot days. With land enough for us and any future children to roam and have adventures, and room for a home for us to curl up in on cold winter nights."

"Well, that's not much to ask for," he teased, leaning into me a bit. "Anything else you'd like to add to the list, my love?"

"Yes. I want our new home to be some place we can live happily together, without anything to ever separate us again so long as we both shall live. I want it to be a place where we can be by each other's sides for the rest of time, where we finally get our happy ever after."

He smiled at me warmly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips before pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes.

"As you wish."

[lostgirlmuseum]

Pairing: Bucky x reader (No gender mentioned, but reader does wear a dress)

Words: 1.6k

Summary: You and Bucky are forced to work on Halloween and even when cosplaying as lovers you only seem to bicker.

Warnings: it gets just a lil goofy. If you’re not down to clown kindly exit my circus. Reader is a bit of a hellion. No use of y/n. Not that much plot rip. Lemme know if I missed something.

A/N: Started this last year but didn’t finish it in time. Originally this was like 70% different but then I had to scrap a bunch of stuff and now it’s this I guess.

Dividers by: ME :) pls enjoy

“Who am I supposed to be?” Bucky asked. 

“You’re kidding, right?”

He lamely gestured to the outfit. “A pirate?” 

“You’re Westley!” 

“What’s a Wesley?”

“No, West-ley!” You handed him the final piece of the costume. “From The Princess Bride!”

Bucky eyed the black mask skeptically and quickly tied it around his head.

“And you’re the Princess Bride?”

“In fact I am. I’m Buttercup!” You watched the scarlet dress twirl behind you in the full length mirror.

“Her name is Buttercup?” 

“I’m not appreciating the judgement in your tone. It was either this, or eggs and bacon. Would you like to be bacon?”

“This is fine.” 

“That’s what I thought.” You studied your costumes and scoffed. “I mean you’re practically wearing what you wear anyways. All black. Except instead of a gun you have a sword and you get a cute little bandana to wear on your head.”

You made the perfect couple. Bucky looked dashing as always in his pirate getup, and your smile rivaled the shine of your gold tiara. 

Neither of you thought you’d be spending the holiday with each other, but duty called. Your mission? To infiltrate a rich kid’s Halloween party and snap some photos of his gazillionaire father’s files. Why? Boring shit, bad guy did bad thing, yadda, yadda.  

You pulled up to the English country manor in one of Tony’s convertibles and gaped at the view. The large house sat upon a hill and was framed by flourishing gardens, illuminated only by the inside lights. You could hardly imagine how green and lush they looked in the daytime. 

“Are we clear on the plan?” Bucky asked as he opened your car door for you.

“Yes. Enter the party dressed in costumes,” You took the gloved hand he offered and stepped out.

“Locate the main office. I’ll be watching your back.” Bucky continued, the two of you starting your journey to the entrance.

“I pick the lock,” you nodded as you looped your arm with his.

“You’ll grab pictures of the files,”

“And then we’ll go back to the ground floor and party.”

Bucky stopped so suddenly that you went lurching backwards.

“That is not the plan.” 

“I’m officially adding it to the plan.” You said, removing your arm from his and continuing to walk.

“You can’t do that,” he grumbled, hand shooting out to grab yours before you could get too far.

“C’mon Buck!” You turned around to face him. “When was the last time you went to a Halloween party?”

“I don’t know.”

You stepped closer to him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“We deserve to have a little fun if we are forced to work on Halloween. Besides, I thought we were spies. You really think our chances of getting caught drastically increase if we hang around for a bit? You think we are that bad at our jobs?”

“But—”

“Fine,” you smirked, “we party first. Blend in. Then we get to business.”

His black mask only amplified his unamused glare.

“Ugh. Okay, we’ll play it by ear. Agreed?”

“Fine.” 

Unfortunately for you, there was very little partying to be done. Bucky gave you five minutes amongst the flood of witches, ghosts, cowboys, and angels before dragging you off to the west wing of the estate. 

You followed the large hall to a set of stairs, and ascended to the second floor. 

“I think this place used to be a castle,” you whispered, eyeing the strange suits of armour lining the hall.

“Focus.” Bucky said, five paces in front of you.

You skipped ahead and spun to face him, “I’m the most focused person in the world right now.”

You continued to skip backwards all the way down the hall until you reached the study doors. 

“All right,” you smiled after picking the lock with a single bobby pin, “be a good watch dog for me.”

Bucky grumbled, but you shut the doors behind you too quick for him to lodge an official complaint.

The study was as elegant as to be expected with a house such as this. The glass balcony doors in the back of the room stretched all the way up to the coffered ceiling, and towering bookshelves stacked with ancient spines lined the walls, but what caught your attention was the mahogany desk in the middle of it all. 

You made your way behind the desk and promptly began opening the drawers. 

It didn’t take long to find what you needed. 

Just as you snapped photos of the the final file, Bucky came bursting in and locking the door behind him. 

In the time it took him to warn “He’s coming, we have to go,” he had made it across the room to the balcony doors, wrenching them open, and dragging you with him. 

The exact same moment you shut the door came the creaking of the study entrance. Bucky yanked you away from the window and into his chest as he pressed his back against the stone wall.

“That was close,” / “Stop manhandling me—” you said at the same time.

“Manhandling?” Bucky whispered harshly into your ear, releasing your waist. “If that means saving your ass, then—”

“I can cover my own ass.”

“Is it really so hard for you to say thank you?”

“I can cover my own ass, thank you.”

“Do you want us to get caught?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“I don’t think it is when you keep acting like this.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“Oh my g—”

“Keep your voice down or he’s going to hear us, stupid,” you shoved your palm against his mouth.

He squeezed your wrist and yanked it away from his mouth.

“Don’t you fucking ever do that again.” He snarled.

He caught your smirk and the twitch of your hand and pushed you away before you could shush him again.

“What did I just say? Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“I listen to you.”

“If you listened to me you would leave me alone.”

“Is that right?” You asked, a glimmer in your eye.

“Yes.”

“As you wish,” you said, and backed up against the balcony railing.

“What—” he began, but you were already hurling yourself over the ledge.

Bucky ran to grab you but could only look on in horror as you catapulted a full story to the lawn below. Instead of stopping where you fell, the steep hill sent you tumbling further away.

Bucky cursed as he launched himself after you, hitting the ground with a harsh thud, and rolling after you in stupor.

A chorus of grunts and oomphs echoed into the still night as the two of you tumbled down the ridiculously long hill. 

Rolling,

Rolling,

Rolling,

Bucky finally reached you at the bottom after what felt like minutes of nauseating turning. It took him only a moment to hoist himself up and run over to you, motionless on your stomach.

“Are you okay? Please, please,” he kneeled by your side and anxiously rolled you onto your back. “Look at me,”

“I’ve got grass in my mouth.” You mumbled, peaking an eye open at the dishelved man above you. His bandana was missing and his v-neck was ripped a little wider from the fall. Not to mention the literal dirt on his cheeks.

Bucky flashed a quick look of relief before turning red. He stood up and ripped the mask from his face. He furiously threw it to the ground and began to storm off.

“Where are you going?” You called, struggling to get up.

He halted. You watched in curiosity and unease as he balled his fists. He relaxed them, and tightened them again as he whirled around to face you.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was just doing as you asked,” you shrugged nonchalantly, steadily sitting up.

“I didn’t mean to throw yourself from the balcony! You could’ve really hurt yourself,”

“You didn’t have to come after me. You could’ve really hurt yourself, too.”

“Yes, but my body is made to withstand that kind of fall, yours isn’t.”

“I’m not w–”

“I know you’re not weak! Do you really think I’m calling you weak, or are you just arguing to argue?” 

You looked down at your muddied shoes and mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said,” you began, but the rest of your words were incomprehensible. 

“I can’t hear you,” 

“I said!” You swung your gaze up from the ground, “I don’t know how to talk to you! Okay?” 

“What are you even talking about?”

“You only seem interested in talking to me when we are arguing. Otherwise you act like you hardly know me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? When was the last time you started a conversation with me that wasn’t work related or related to something I had done to piss you off?”

“...”

“Exactly.”

“What,” he scoffed, “so you decide to throw yourself off a balcony?”

“If that’s what it takes for you to act like you care about me,” you said. 

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I never said it was reasonable.”

“So if I tell you I care about you, you'll stop fighting me on everything?”

“Bucky, stop,” you groaned.

“No, I’m serious. Is that what it takes?”

“It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just say you care about me because I want you to. Then you’re just saying it to placate me.”

He sighed. 

He turned around and scanned the grass. A moment later he was picking up his mask and brushing off the dirt before retying it around his head.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on,” was all he said.

You followed him back up the hill as he led you to the back entrance of the party.

“Where are we going? I thought we are leaving.”

“You said you wanted to enjoy the party, didn’t you?”

“But—”

“You have thirty minutes. Okay?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why do you think?”

You softly smiled. “Thank you, Bucky.”

Before he could respond, you had placed a quick kiss to his cheek and ran off into the crowd.

“As you wish.” He mumbled, fingers grazing lightly over the spot you had kissed.

A/N: If you made it to the end thank you so much. Please let me know if you liked it. I have anon on for my inbox if you're shy or if you ever have an ask :)

[moonlightisdancing]

Dancing With the Devil/ s.f.k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 2243

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI 18+, drinking, touching, teasing, masturbation (f), priest rp, defo some sort of religious trauma, rough oral (m receiving), begging, slapping, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!), overstimulation, praise, daddy kink

A/N: this fic was a collab with @belovedsamuel she gave me the sauce and i wrote it out <3

~~~~~~~~~~~🩵~~~~~~~~~~~

As you walk into the bar, you’re met with your boyfriend's brothers already several drinks in. You were supposed to be there an hour ago, but Sam looked criminally good in his priest costume. As his little devil, you just had to take care of some business before leaving.

“Hey! Look who finally showed up!” Josh pops up out of his seat to give you a hug. “Ahhh! It buuuuurns!”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that?” You gesture to his pope costume.

“Touché.”

You walk over to Danny and Jake at the bar. Danny’s dressed in an all too short pharaoh costume with now smudged eyeliner. Jake is dressed as Westley from The Princess Bride, his partner seated next to him dressed as Buttercup.

“Ordered you guys drinks.” Jake points over to two glasses on the counter.

You thank him and take a seat, Sam sits between the two of you. His cologne catches in the air as he settles in, filling your nose with the familiar scent you’ve grown to love so much. Josh finds his way back over and starts telling one of his stories, everyone paying half attention. They’ve all evidently had a few drinks before you and Sam arrived, but you feel yourself not too far behind. The liquor surely was working its way into your system as you continued sipping down mixed drink after mixed drink. Past a slight buzz, you only find yourself paying attention to Sam. Watching how his fingers wrap around the glass as he nurses his drink, lips perfectly parting to take in the liquid. The familiar fuzzy feeling finds its home inside of you, getting lost in his mannerisms. Josh goes on with more stories, Jake joining in now that his liquor had hit him enough to crack his introverted shell. The noise in the background is exactly that, Sam being the only thing to fully consume your thoughts. You reach your hand over to Sam and place it on his knee. He turns enough to acknowledge you without drawing attention from the others.

“Hey, sweetheart. Doin’ okay?” He asks, placing his hand on yours and caressing your knuckles with his thumb.

“Yes, I’m okay.” You nod.

“Okay. I love you.” He whispers, leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you, too.”

His attention is quickly brought back to his brothers who are growing quite rammy. You slowly slide your hand up from his knee to his thigh, fingertips tracing circles closer and closer to his length. Sam clears his throat as your hand gets dangerously close to making contact, causing him to turn and shoot you a threatening glare. You can feel the slick building up between your thighs.

“I’ll be back, gotta use the bathroom.” You announce to the group, sliding your hand down his thigh as you get up.

You watch Sam’s eyes trail up and down your frame as you walk away. You walk towards a flight of stairs descending to a hidden bathroom in the basement. It’s typically for employees, but your group frequents the bar so much they’d let you use it whenever. You stumble into the dark bathroom, fumbling for the light switch on the wall. You lock the door behind you, making your way toward the toilet. You rest your phone on the toilet paper holder and pull up the tight red dress as you situate yourself on the toilet in attempts to clean up. Sam has you a mess and he hasn’t even touched you yet. Giving into your temptations you decide to have some time to yourself.

“They won’t notice anyways…” You mumble to yourself.

You rest your back against the cold porcelain lid, spreading your legs a bit wider for easier access. You run two fingers through your folds, tipping your head back in ecstasy as you work light circles over your sensitive bud. Your mind flashes through images of Sam from earlier today, eliciting soft moans of his name that echoed against the stone walls. God how you wished he was here right now, making you feel how he did before coming out for drinks. As if the universe heard your silent prayers, you hear a knock on the door. The knock quickly turns into rustling of the handle, making your heart race.

“Y/N, open this door.” Sam’s voice angrily whispers from the other side.

“H-hold on.” You stand up and fix your panties before flushing the toilet and quickly running your hands under the water.

You wobble to the door and unlock it, creeping it open enough to see Sam’s face on the other side.

“What? I just had to use the bathroom.” You defend yourself before he opens his mouth.

“It’s been 15 minutes, and I have ears.” He chides.

“You were listening?!”

“Yeah, because I kept knocking and you weren’t answering.”

Fuck, how out of it was I?

“Sorry, I was-”

He steps into the bathroom and shuts the door, locking it behind himself.

“Moaning my name in here all by yourself? After pulling that shit out there?” Sam’s hands quickly find their way to your hips, coercing you against the wall.

He presses searing kisses to the exposed skin on your chest, working up your neck until his mouth lingers near your ear.

“Sounds to me like a little someone needs to repent.”

“Do something, Father Sam.”

“Daddy, to you.” Dominance drips from him as the words leave his lips.

He nudges his knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. You try to lower your weight on his knee, but his hands on your hips prevent you from going anywhere.

“Daddy, please?” You beg.

“Only thing you should be begging for is forgiveness.” He moves his leg as fast as he placed it there. “Knees. Now.” He demands, backing away and pointing to the ground before him.

Without hesitation, you find yourself dropping to your knees.

“Always looked so good on your knees for me.” He teases as he firmly grips under your chin with his hand. “Show me how much you want to be forgiven, sinful little thing.”

You reach your hands up, pressing them against his hardened length before teasingly unzipping his pants. You place a kiss against him through his boxers, earning a breathy moan from the contact. The fingers of his free hand find themselves tangled in the hair at the back of your head, gripping up a handful as he pulls your face up to look at him.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His eyes slowly move around your soft features, taking in every detail as he looks down on you.

You reach back up for his cock, releasing him from the restraints of his boxers. Sam, hands still holding your head, guides your mouth to his dick, your hands holding balance on his hips. He presses his tip to your lips, staining the tip in cherry red lipstick.

“Would look better smeared all over that pretty face of yours.” He moves his hand from under your chin to grab his cock, using his tip to smudge your lipstick across your face.

“That’s better. Now go ahead, repent.” Sam places his hand back under your chin.

“I tried pleasing myself without you, and then lied about it. I was wrong.” You look up at him submissively. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Forgive me, daddy?”

“Good girl. How could I not forgive such a sweet thing like you?” He asks, placing his cock back to your lips.

An unspoken consent is exchanged as you open your mouth, displaying your tongue for Sam’s use. He works his lipstick covered cock into your mouth, hands tightening their grip on your head. His strokes start off slow until he’s fucking himself into your mouth at a steady pace.

“Is this okay?” He breaks character for a second, only continuing after you hum and nod yes.

Sam pushes himself down your throat until tears begin to threaten your lash line, guiding your mouth up and down his shaft. He continues until a mascara stained tear rolls down your cheek, pulling himself out of your mouth.

“Really want forgiveness, don’t you, little thing?” He gently slaps your face and returns his hand to your neck, pulling you up to your feet.

With his grip still around your throat, he pushes you against the wall, pressing his weight against your body. The cold wall causes you to groan from the harsh feeling on your warm skin. You lift a leg up and wrap it around his waist, watching his cheeks grow pink.

“I need you.” You whisper, leaning in to place a kiss to his lips.

“Need me for what?” He urges.

Oh, he’s really getting into this.

“Need you to fuck me until I behave. Until I’m a good little thing just for you, daddy.”

Sam pins the leg around his waist to the wall, allowing your red dress to roll up your thighs. His other hand snakes down to grip his length, brushing the head of his cock through your slick. He drags the tip of his dick up to tease your swollen clit, rubbing painfully slow circles until your knees are about to give out.

“Please? Please just fuck me?” You beg, trying to move your hips to place him at your entrance.

“Slow down, satan. Wanna fuck you so good you forget how to sin.” Sam peppers kisses along your jaw, working his way down your neck.

Once his lips find their home against your collarbone, he gently bites into your soft skin as he pushes himself into you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He whines, allowing his head to fall weightlessly into your shoulder.

You maneuver your hands so one is resting on his exposed cheek, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Sam slowly starts working himself in and out of your aching core. He brings his free hand between the two of you, settling the pad of his thumb on your clit, rubbing tight circles.

“Think you can take more?” He asks in your ear.

“Mhm. More.”

He halts his movements, rubbing a finger against the space he’s already occupying. Sam slowly pushes his finger inside of you, watching your eyes for any discomfort before moving his hips back and forth a few times.

“One more?” You beg with your fucked out voice barely able to speak.

“Okay. Tell me if it hurts.”

He dips another finger into your core, eliciting a guttural moan and furrowed brown from you.

“Too much?” He asks.

“No, feels so good.”

Sam’s thumb begins working circles over your clit again, curling his fingers up into you as much as the tight space allows. Your head falls against Sam’s as you grow dizzy from over stimulation.

“I love you.” You tiredly moan.

“I love you more, little thing.” His breathing is hitched as you begin to tighten around him. “Can you be a good girl and cum for daddy?”

Almost in command, you fall apart beneath him, explicit noises escaping your lips, his name rolling off of your tongue in a mantra.

“Good girl, such a perfect girl. Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His hips stutter, movement faltering as he fills you with his warm release.

Combined moans echo off the bathroom walls surrounding you guys. Sam removes himself from you, cupping his hand to your core to stop his seed from spilling onto the floor. He reaches over for some paper towel to help clean up the mess he contributed to. He removes his cum covered hand from your center and replaces it with paper towel. You grab his unholy hand and bring it to your lips, cleaning his release off of it with your tongue. You lick his hand until there’s nothing of him left covering it.

“I love you so fucking much.” He says, planting a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you, too.” You giggle as you wobble to the toilet, legs practically jello below your weight.

As you relieve yourself, Sam takes the time to wet some paper towel to help fix your smudged makeup. He comes over and begins to wipe off your lipstick before dabbing the paper towel along your cheek to fix the running mascara.

“Fuck, I cannot go back out there like this. That was… unholy.”

“S’okay. Let me talk.” He reassures discarding the paper towel into the trash can beside the toilet.

Once you’re as fixed up as you can get, Sam grabs you into his hold. The two of you make way upstairs, the entire party suggestively looking at you. Your hair was still messed up from Sam’s hands being gripped in the roots.

“Y/N got sick. I went to check on her and she wasn’t doing too hot.” He pouts, your orgasm weakened body helps with the sickly look.

“I’m sorry guys, I shouldn’t have drank on an empty stomach…” You play along, you’d rather have them think you’re a lightweight over the truth.

“Awh, okay. Well it was nice seeing you Y/N, I hope you feel better!” Danny offers condolences paired with an awkward side hug, he was trying not to hurt your sickened body.

“Bye guys, we’ll see ya.” Sam says, reaching for his wallet.

He discards a hundred on the table before taking you under his arm again.

“Let’s get you home, baby. I think you’ve repent enough today.”

[pastafossa]

Pasta, I need some help. There’s a fic I read about a year ago(?), and I’m desperately trying to find it, but I can’t remember who it’s by. It’s a Matt Murdock x Reader fic where Reader gets kidnapped by Fisk’s men, and they try to get information out of them. I’m pretty sure Westley is the one interrogating them, and they play Frank Sinatra while they do. They eventually let them go, and Matt gets a call from Reader because they left a phone with them after they let them go and he finds them naked on the docks. Poor reader is really beat and has PTSD, especially when they hear the song that was playing, and they end up missing Thanksgiving because they’re out cold recovering. I think the title has something to do with pie (maybe not, but there’s a pie involved—rhubarb?), and it might jump POV? I appreciate the help!

I'm fucking DELIGHTED to say I knew this one right off the bat cause I love that fic, and the author's on my rec list if you ever lose her fic again! You're looking for Strawberry Rhubarb by @ellephlox!

[quirkykaty]

Busted

Pairing: Crowley x F!Reader Warnings: SMUT (the one and only I've written so far, so feel free to judge), bit of fluff, bit of angst, getting caught (duh) Summary: When the cats are away, the mice will play. Sam and Dean pop out for a few hours and Crowley decides to pop in for a visit. Wordcount: >1000 Author's Note: I can't remember when or why I wrote this but it still makes me grin when I reread it so whatever. Crowley is such an ass but gods I love him.

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

“Bye! Call us if anything comes up, okay?” Sam called out to you from the door of the Bunker. Dean grinned at you over his shoulder and winked as he dragged his brother out the door. You laughed as the door closed on them, shaking your head at the grown men’s teenage antics.

Spinning on a heel, you made a bee-line for the kitchen. With Sam and Dean off to chase down a lead on the English Men of Letters, you had the Bunker all to yourself for a few hours and that meant one thing. Booze and a movie marathon in your pajamas. It was going to be fantastic.

Within an hour, you were splayed out on the couch in a ratty shirt that was several sizes too big and a pair of fuzzy black socks, with a bottle of Jack in one hand and the remote in the other. Having the boys out of the Bunker meant you could pull your secret stash of movies, ones that you’d never live down if the boys found out. The first on the list was the Princess Bride, a guilty pleasure even you were ashamed of.

“Westley was a bloody idiot for leaving Humperdink alive, if you ask me,” a voice behind you drawled, the familiar accent making your face go red in seconds. You cut off the movie and leapt up, whirling to face the smirking demon that was currently leaning against the wall. “Hello, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you squeaked as you came around to the other side of the couch, frantically glancing across the room to the Bunker’s main room. The boys could be back at any time and if they caught you here with him, there’d be hell to pay. No pun intended.

“I heard that Rocky and Bullwinkle were going to be out for the evening and thought I’d pop in to see my favorite little hunter,” he said with a dramatic pout, pushing off the wall and striding toward you until he was right in front of you. “Miss me?”

You flushed slightly at the closeness, his rough voice only adding to the fire building inside you. “You.. You can’t be here, Crowley. Sam and Dean will be back soon. If they catch us…” you trailed off, biting your lip nervously.

Crowley simply smirked and hooked a finger under your chin. “Then I suppose we should be quick about it, hm?” His eyes smoldered their smoky red as they travelled across your face. He knew exactly what it did to you to see his eyes like that. Grinning smugly, he leaned toward you, not touching you, not kissing you, just moving far enough into your space to make your whole body tense with anticipation. “Dammit, Crowley..” you growled, grabbing ahold of his jacket and pulling him the rest of the way to you. Crushing your lips against his, you gripped fistfuls of his jacket and shuffled back until your hips were against the back of the couch.

Without missing a beat, Crowley wrapped his arms around you and pinned you to his chest, kissing back with a passion that never failed to make you go weak in the knees. His hand slid down your back and hooked under your thighs, hoisting you up and spinning around. With a thought, you were across the room, trapped between the wall and Crowley’s body as the two of you moved together.

You broke the kiss first, head falling back against the wall as Crowley’s lips moved to your neck, nipping and kissing here and there to drive you wild. Your legs came up and wrapped around Crowley’s waist, prompting him to grind up against you. A small whimper rose out of your throat and you ran a hand into his hair, tugging gently. “No time for teasing.”

Crowley grunted and tugged your earlobe between his teeth, smirking impishly as he rolled his hips against yours once more. The two of you vanished again, back to the couch, where he pushed you down, shedding clothes while you tugged off your panties.

Within seconds, he was on top of you, one hand under your thigh and the other trailing up your side, under your shirt. Your lips met in a desperate kiss as he pushed into you, drawing a moan from you and a faint hiss from him. He set a rough pace from the start, hands wandering, seeking flesh wherever they could find it.

It wasn’t long until you were both tumbling over the edge of ecstasy, your moans and his echoing off the walls of the Bunker. Panting heavily, he pressed his face into your neck as you both came down from the high. Your fingers traced shapes on his back while you caught your breath, chuckling weakly as you pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

Pushing up on a hand after a moment, Crowley gazed down at you, head cocked to the side as he gave you his trademark smirk. “Well, that was a rather rousing workout, don’t you think?”

“I’ll have to send the boys away more often,” you said with a giggle, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“When you do, make sure you find out when they’re coming home,” a third voice piped up from somewhere in the room. You squeaked and bolted up on the couch, moving so quickly you smacked your head into Crowley’s. He yelped and put a hand to his head as the two of you turned to see Sam and Dean standing in the doorway of the Bunker’s living room.

“Busted,” Crowley muttered, giving you an almost apologetic smile before vanishing from the room, leaving you to face the fallout on your own.

[theteasetwrites]

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 100: Happy Ending

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 11 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—gentle sex, missionary, just very basic stuff really, and I don't think there's really anything else! ❧ Word Count: 7.8k

❧ In This Chapter: A year after the events at the Commonwealth, things are falling into place, and Alexandria is back on its feet. Daryl returns home from diplomatic duties at the Commonwealth, but he has an idea to run past you, and it involves a new journey.

❧ A/N: We made it. This is the last chapter of the series. It's been a wild ride. For the last chapter, I had to throw in a little smut, as a treat (and also @normanplusdaryl would've murdered me if I didn't have them have sex again before the end <3). I also wanted to tie a few loose ends, like the character I introduced in 11A (Billy—who was initially intended to be a love interest for Lydia, but then Elijah and Lydia got together and I wanted to follow that from the canon because they were so cute) and Robin's bunny. I will probably make a separate post talking about what this series means to me and how happy I am that I've completed it and that so many people have enjoyed it. For now, though, I'll just say thank you. <3 Hope this final chapter is adequate.

You felt a tiny tug on your corduroy skirt. It startled you for a moment, but then you remembered Westley’s little habit.

One year old and he was already crawling all over the library, touching everything he could get his little hands on. As you looked up from your cataloging, you met the boy’s impossibly round, silvery blue eyes. “Westley Owen Dixon, what on earth are you doing?”

He smiled up at you, in his hand a glob of dirt. His face, too, was smudged with the stuff. You quickly lifted him in your arms, removing the dirt on his cheek with your sleeve. “Where did you get this, huh?”

The child was fond of dirt. He hated being cooped up, you were quickly realizing. Being outdoors was his favorite pastime, but he was much too young to play outside on his own, like Robin. 

“Billy?” 

“Yeah?” The young man looked up from his book. He knew the routine well now, but you had to make sure to let him know. After all, it was what you always did. A year of library training under your tutelage had worked wonders. You were glad he’d decided to join Alexandria, after he’d helped you and Lydia what seemed like yesterday. 

“I’m going to take him out for some fresh air,” you said, as you usually did. “Watch the desk for me? Make sure no one steals any books?” You eyed Mr. Gibson playfully. The old man had a habit of forgetting to check out the books he borrowed, though he always brought them back. 

“Sure.”

Outside, you were greeted by a gaggle of children running past, including Gracie and Robin. When Robin turned on her heel, running back to you, you laughed in confusion at her sudden approach, but she was reaching her hand out, and you knew what that meant.

“Tag! You’re it!” she giggled, looking up at you and the baby with a wide grin. 

You scoffed, looking back at the other children as they giggled. “I most certainly am not!” you said, leaning down to ever so slightly hit Robin’s shoulder. “You’re it!”

It caught the child off guard, who didn’t think you’d be quick enough to tag her. “Hey!”

As you scurried off, Westley let out a series of burps and giggles in your arms. 

“(Y/N)!” 

You stopped in your tracks to see Aaron, calling out to you from the garden. Nearby, some of the other children were swinging wooden swords, while a horse-drawn carriage wheeled through town, carrying the latest harvest for trade. In the busy Alexandria square, people moved to and fro, some hard at work, others just chatting. It didn’t really matter, though. All the work would get done. 

“Hey, there, boss man,” you said. He scoffed, always rejecting that nickname. He wasn’t the boss, really. No one was. Still, he was a leader of Alexandria, like Gabriel, like Daryl, and, you supposed, like you. In your own little ways, you ran this place, too. 

“Told you to stop calling me that.”

“Since when do I listen to you?”

“That’s a good point…” Aaron’s attention quite quickly turned to his nephew, the baby in your arms. His baby voice was always vastly entertaining. “Well, hello there, wiggles.” On account of Westley’s… bouncy nature, Aaron had bestowed upon him that nickname not too long ago. There was no telling where such a little child could get all that energy from, but he had it in spades. Aaron took the child in his arms, lifting him up and down as he held Wes by his underarms. “Whoa!” he said, watching the child laugh and coo at the movement. 

“Be careful with him!” you said. “Don’t break him.”

You watched in amusement at Aaron’s silly faces, how he stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes for the baby’s enjoyment. “Aw, he likes me.”

“Yes, you’re his favorite uncle.”

“I better be.”

Outside the walls, you heard the faint hum of a motor. Not just any motor, of course. There were very few motors left in the world, besides Daryl’s.

“My dad’s here!” you heard Robin exclaim to the other children. 

The girl ran between you and Aaron, and you watched as she sprinted towards the gate. The motor had stopped a little while after she’d gone out of sight, but you did hear his voice very faintly, speaking to Robin in that soft voice of his. 

As soon as he saw you, he waved with one hand, the other resting upon Robin’s shoulder as they came forward. Beside him was Carol, and behind him was Lydia and Elijah, with Judith and RJ following along. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was home again, and everyone was safe, for now.

He took Wes in his arms, bestowing a kiss upon his head. Soon after, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. Over his shoulder, you watched as Robin greeted Judith, the two girls rocking each other back and forth in their hug. They hadn’t seen each other in a while now. Daryl made monthly trips to the Commonwealth and Hilltop, helping to supervise his trades, but the children rarely came along. One day, you knew Robin would beg to come along, too. And then Wes, and then you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

“How are ya?” he asked. As he bounced Wes, you concentrated on fixing his windswept hair. 

His thumb drew absentminded circles over your lower back, just at the junction of your skirt and your tucked-in blouse. You missed your clothes getting wrinkled by his touch, as much as you tried to look as neat as possible. When he was gone, there was an unmistakable absence of his very particular touch. It was sloppy, but tender. Somehow, he simultaneously put no effort into his movements, and all the effort in the world.

When your fingers finished meticulously sorting out his hair, you let out a refreshed sigh, breathing in the crisp April afternoon. You could practically taste the newly harvested strawberries, finally in season after a long winter. A year ago today, this field you stood in now was barren, dry. Now, it was so green, and even better than it had been before. Lush tangles of vines and leafy greens were lovingly planted in rows upon rows of wooden planters. Alexandria had never been so alive, literally and figuratively. 

“I’m fine,” you said happily. As usual, your eyes began to wander his body, examining the new holes in his clothes you would have to patch up. At least he was clean. He must’ve caught a shower at the Commonwealth, where he’d picked up Carol and the kids. She was a leader there now, helping Ezekiel and Mercer run the place. “How was the event?”

The memorial day, the anniversary of the end of the Commonwealth as it once was. No longer a police state run by greedy politicians, it was still the biggest settlement you knew of, but not the best. That was, and always would be, Alexandria, as far as you were concerned. 

“All right,” he said with a shrug. The movement made Wes giggle as he found fascination with the piece of Daryl’s chestnut colored hair that he held between his little fingers. “What’cha doin’, scout?” he asked, bouncing Westley until he giggled some more. “Already one year old…”

You leaned close to get the child’s attention. “Look, Daddy’s back,” you cooed, pinching his rosy little cheeks. They felt like dough in your fingers, so soft and warm. “Can you say ‘hello, Daddy?’” He’d only turned a year old last week, but you were eager to hear him eventually speak his first words. If you could gently coax them out of him, you would. “Say, ‘hi, Dad!’ Or just say, ‘Dada?’”

He only stared blankly at you, blinking his wide eyes as a droplet of drool began to slide down his chin. “Da,” he mumbled.

Close enough. 

When the sun had set and the day’s activities had come to an end, you found refuge in your living room, watching Robin sit cross-legged on the living room floor, holding a white puff of fur in her arms. Daryl sat beside her, holding Wes, who stared in infatuation at the creature. 

“Say ‘Daisy,’” Robin instructed him, holding the rabbit closer. “C’mon, Wes! Say ‘bunny,’ pleeease. This is a bunny. This is Daisy, my bunny.”

The only person who wanted Westley to speak more than you was Robin, who was so eager to have a little brother to talk to. He only blinked, wriggling slightly in Daryl’s arms. He reached out, patting Daisy between her long ears. 

“Gentle,” said Daryl, who guided Westley’s little hand. “Nice and gentle… Look at ‘er little nose, Wes. Ain’t that funny how it wiggles?”

Dog, whose nose was resting upon your thigh as you sat petting him on the couch (so he wouldn’t get jealous, as Daryl said), lifted his head up with alert ears. He still didn’t trust the rabbit entirely, but he was learning, just as Westley was, to be gentle. 

“No, Dog,” you said in a low tone. “You just stay right here.” The dog whined as he looked up at you, his tail wagging so much it made a noise against the couch cushion. “Oh, really?” you replied. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’re not going anywhere near that bunny until―

“Mommy,” interjected Robin, “can’t we let Dog come close to Daisy? He won’t hurt ‘er.”

After all, it had been several months since the rabbit joined the family. There just wasn’t any end to Robin’s pleas after the baby rabbit had been born. Ezekiel wasn’t helping matters, either. He insisted upon Robin taking the only pure white rabbit in the litter. Still, you had terrifying visions of Dog tearing apart the poor defenseless creature right in front of Robin and Wes, scarring them for life. Dog did have a bad habit of bringing home small, fluffy creatures, though they were always mangled and bloody when he left them on your doorstep. Daryl had only cooked two of them, and that was a miracle in itself. He would’ve cooked up all of them if you had let him. 

You looked between Daryl and the dog, whose big brown eyes seemed to glimmer with the light from the fireplace. He whined again. “Oh, all right,” you said. “But don’t let go of her.”

You loosened your grip on the dog, letting him cautiously leap off the couch. His ears perked up, he slowly sniffed towards Robin and the rabbit. 

“Come ‘ere, boy,” instructed Robin. “Come see Daisy.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment when the dog got so close that he pressed his nose against the bunny’s, just for a moment. At the same time, Wes reached out his hand to pat Dog. 

“Daw…” the boy cooed. 

Your eyes lit up, so did Daryl’s. “What did you say, sweetie?” you asked.

Daryl gently bounced the boy, as if trying to shake the word out of him. 

“D—dog.”

“Dog?!” you exclaimed, excitedly climbing off the couch to crawl over to Daryl and the baby. “Oh, Daryl, his first word!”

Robin grimaced as she pet Daisy, who was also the object of Dog’s attention as he sniffed her small puff of a tail. “I wanted him to say bunny.”

“Maybe he’ll learn that next, sweet pea. Can you say it again, Wes? What is this?” You pointed demonstratively towards Dog. “This is a…”

Daryl smiled widely, amused by the boy’s confusion. “Hey, buddy. Good job, why don’t ya say somethin’ else…” He pointed towards you, his eyes gazing over you affectionately. “Who’s that, huh? That’s Mama. Say ‘mama.’”

“Blah bluh.” The baby’s nonsensical sounds erupted from his mouth with a small bubble of spit. 

You all broke out into uproarious laughter. “Aw, that’s close enough,” you said, your voice faltering a little. It could’ve been worse. When Robin said her first word, “Dada,” you were overwhelmed with happy tears. This time, you were a little more composed. 

“Look, Mommy!” exclaimed Robin. “Dog likes Daisy, see.”

You averted your attention from the baby to see Dog’s nose gently nudging the rabbit’s body. He seemed to recognize that the creature was a friend, not food. You’d seen the dog’s reactions to rabbits and squirrels and the like before, but he’d never seemed so calm and collected. Perhaps he was smart enough to know that Robin loved her bunny, and that any friend of Robin’s was a friend of Dog’s.

“What a good dog,” you said, patting his back. “Everyone’s reaching a milestone today, huh?”

Not long after that, Aaron came knocking on the front door. He was on his usual Friday evening business—picking up Robin to spend the night. Tonight was special, as Judith and RJ were visiting, too. It was more like a slumber party at Gracie’s house, with Aaron dutifully volunteering to take care of all the children that night. 

The best part for you, of course, was getting to be alone with Daryl. 

The man didn’t let go of Westley until the child was falling asleep in his arms. He’d been gone only three days, but when a child grows so fast, it feels as though just one day is a whole year. As he put the infant to bed upstairs, you tended to the fire, dropping in another log with a flurry of bright orange and red sparks. You quickly used the poker to maneuver the logs. Two hands held tight to your hips as you bent over, squeezing your waist.

“Baby asleep?” you asked.

He turned you around shortly after you stood up to replace the poker. Upon his face was a lopsided smile, the kind that was infectious. Your own grin carved itself into your cheeks, lifting them high until your eyes began to squint. 

When his arms wrapped tight around your back, pulling you close against his chest, he craned his head to find your neck, where his lips latched onto your exposed skin. Eyes closed, you nuzzled into his neck, too, where you caught faint notes of pine and soil, and a hint of cigarette smoke.

“Daryl,” you sighed, your hands finding themselves feverishly clawing at his strong, broad shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

His mouth zig zagged up your neck, dotting kisses along your jaw, then finally settling happily on your lips, where they seemed to fit so perfectly. “Me too, angel… Wes is sleepin’ like a rock. Dog’s all tuckered out by his crib.”

“Precious,” you spoke against his lips. “I can’t wait for him to learn how to walk. Remember Robin? She was following you all around the house.”

“Knowin’ Wes, he’ll be chasin’ me. Little terror’s already got so much damn energy with the crawling.” With a laugh, you imagined the idea as you lowered yourself to the ground, tugging Daryl down with you. “Perfectly good couch right there, woman.”

“I want to enjoy the fire,” you said, leaning your back against his chest. He knew the position well, spreading his legs as he leaned against the side of the armchair. You shimmied yourself until you were slotted between his legs, while his hands settled upon your stomach to pull you in even tighter. “Mm, perfect.”

He seemed infatuated with your neck tonight. Perhaps it was your new homemade perfume, scented with apple blossom and honey. Indeed, he seemed to be practically devouring you with his lips. 

“You smell good,” he mumbled between kisses. “Good enough to eat.”

With a teasing grimace, you turned your neck to face him. Though his words and the languid movements of his hands as they pawed at your silky nightgown were tempting, you were more determined to hear about his travels for the time being.

“Any news from the Commonwealth?”

“Jus’ the usual. Carol’s got some plan to talk to Aaron ‘bout gettin’ the railroads workin’ again. They already got a lot of people ready to work on it, just gotta make a plan, and Eugene is comin’ up with ideas for fuel… I dunno, he told me all ‘bout it but it went right through my head.”

“How’s Rosie?” Eugene’s daughter was born just a few months ago. You were still hoping to meet her soon. 

“She’s fine. Looks nothin’ like Eugene, maybe that’s a good thing.”

You shook your head at his joke. “Well, not everyone can be as handsome as you, my love. And the books, did you pick up the books?”

Daryl had a new job added to his long list of responsibilities. In fact, you considered him to be his own position at your library: the official interlibrary loan delivery man. 

“I did,” he said with a nod. “Got ‘em in my bag, ready for ya to… do whatever you do with ‘em. And I dropped off the books they asked for. How you gonna keep track of all these books comin’ and goin’? Ain’t it difficult? Don’t want you stressin’ yourself out with this… interlibrary thing.”

If Daryl had it his way, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger or do anything at all, but you wanted to run the library. After all, he built that library for you. It meant the entire world. 

“It’s not stressful, honey. It’s important. Making sure everyone has access to the information they need, or the stories they want to read to keep their minds off things, that’s all important. When Maggie gets the time to start thinking about a library at Hilltop, we’re going to start an interlibrary loan program there, too. Lydia told me she’d like to run that library… It’s going to be wonderful.”

No matter how many times you told him your dreams, your plans, your hopes for the future, he would always look at you like you’d just shown him the biggest, brightest star in the sky. That’s why he built that library, why he did everything he did to keep Alexandria and the other communities together. Though he thought his actions were small, what he did, he did so you could be happy. There wasn’t anything you could want that he wouldn’t give to you. Just to hear that swell in your voice, and to see that flash of radiance in your eyes. 

When you spoke of your dreams, you were the most beautiful thing in the world to him. 

“Jus’ as long as you’re happy. Ya know, I’m real proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Oh? What for?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

His forehead leaned against yours, his hand cupping your jaw with the utmost tenderness. “Yeah. You’re doin’ everything you wanted to do, bein’ everything you wanted to be. And ya make this place feel like home. Alexandria ain’t nothin’ without you.”

“Stop,” you laughed. “I’m just a librarian.”

“Nah,” he said. “You’re much more than that to me. I mean, you are a librarian. That ain’t all you are. You’re changin’ the world, in your own ways.”

“Well, I… couldn’t have done anything without you, Daryl. You gave me everything I wanted, and more. You made me feel like I was strong.”

“You are strong,” he corrected. To punctuate his statement, he placed a firm kiss upon your lips. “My strong, beautiful woman.”

A sudden burst of laughter erupted from you as he used his body to pin you to the floor. With your body now underneath him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him pressed to you. 

“You’re such a charmer,” you said, lips brushing against his ear. His tongue spread warm saliva over the expanse of your neck. Between slow, drawn-out licks, his lips pursed to kiss you, his hand wrapped up in your hair. Your lips desperately searched for his in the dimly lit room, with only the warm glow of the fire to guide you. Raising your hand to palm at his face, you clasped his chin to pull him down until your lips met. 

It was an unspoken chain of events now—words weren’t necessary. Tonight, you’d make love together, with no chance of Robin hearing or walking in on you, and little Wes was just a baby, all snuggled up in his crib upstairs. Dog wouldn’t know what the two of you were doing, he was just a dog. Still, Daryl always shooed the canine away if he happened to try to climb into bed during your more intimate moments. 

But tonight, he didn’t seem to care about privacy from the dog, as he clawed at your nightgown, trying to pull it off on the living room floor. 

“Daryl, we could go to the bedroom if you want. Wes won’t wake up.”

“No, right here. Want you right here.” You didn’t mind. 

As he sat upright, he stripped himself of his black button-up shirt, the buttons on which were already stretching beyond their ability on account of his broad, stocky build. Your nightgown peeled off easily over your head before you tossed it somewhere behind you, into the warm darkness of the increasingly balmy room. 

With a frustrated grunt, he stood to begin undoing his belt. Beneath your now naked body, you felt the high pile of the plush rug underneath you. It wasn’t as soft as your bed, but it was enough. Still, an equally as naked Daryl crossed over to the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows. 

“Here.” He leaned down to tuck the pillow underneath your head. You bit your lip as you watched him maneuver himself until he was atop you again, breathing deep, heavy breaths. “You comfortable?”

“I love you,” you answered, in a complete haze. “Come here.”

Your lips clasped together again, this time kissing with open mouths and lustful tongues. As his body began to move against yours, you both felt the heat of the nearby fire begin to just barely sting your skin. It was a good sting, though. It reminded you that you were alive, after all this time. You were still alive, together. 

“I love you,” he repeated. The phrase was bookended by more kisses, each more sloppy and impatient than the last as the heat and arousal rose up in him. “I love you... I’d die for you.”

Between your bodies, his erection twitched against you, tucked somewhere between your thighs. It all felt so warm. 

“You don’t have to,” you said, heaving and panting as your body rocked up against his. “I’d much rather you live for me.”

You could feel him smile against your cheek, his hand planted firmly beside you as he lifted his body enough to see yours. His other hand traveled south to feel you, to insert his fingers inside you. 

“Oh…” His knees dug into the carpet as he steadied himself, focusing on pleasuring you. His thumb tickled your most sensitive spot mercilessly, causing you to squirm and writhe underneath him, just the way he liked. “Daryl…”

When you said his name, a fire of some otherworldly kind ignited within him. It was wild and demanding and took complete control over him. He could no longer keep himself away from you, so he buried himself inside, letting out a drawn out sigh as your arms reached up to envelope him. 

“Oh, yes, Daryl… Please.” Your begging only emboldened him. 

He bestowed another kiss, then dragged his lips down over your neck, finally grazing over your aching breast. His warm, sweet breath soothed your nipple, where your teething baby was slowly but surely being weaned from breast milk. 

“They still hurt, angel?” he panted, almost whimpering. You felt so good around him, he could hardly stand it. Your body was made for him, having been filled by him after all these years, but every experience was slightly different, with new pleasures for him to reap from you, and to give you. 

“They’re… a little tender.”

Without sucking, he licked the slightly swollen flesh, tracing gentle circles with his tongue. He eyed you, but your head was thrown back, with only a breathy sigh to signal your approval. The softness of his tongue was so soothing, combined with the steady rhythm of his body as he pumped himself inside you. While one hand kneaded the tender flesh of your other breast, his other hand stroked your clit, matching the slow, loving movements of his hips.

“I’ll make ‘em feel better,” he said, moving his lips to the other breast. 

His open mouth drenched your sensitive nipple in his saliva, then his tongue swirled it around in slow, languid circles. Only Daryl could make love to you with such sweetness and gentleness, but with such great desperation and need. It took all his willpower not to suddenly increase his pace, but he knew that what you needed now was his sweet, slow love. Besides, in this room, in this moment, you had all the time in the world. Everything else outside of the junction of your bodies didn’t matter, for the time being. 

Your back arched, you jolted upwards as a sudden shock of pleasure ran through you. Daryl’s touches were getting you more and more aroused, closer to orgasm. Meanwhile, he buried himself deeper inside of you, twitching with each involuntary movement of your body. The wetness that pooled where your bodies met was dripping down your bottom, surely being absorbed by the carpet. You made a mental note to wash it tomorrow. 

With only yours and his soft pants, grunts, and sighs mingling with the crackling of the fire, the house was quiet, peaceful. The sound of skin on skin became more prominent as Daryl’s speed increased inevitably—your passageway was so slick now, he slid in and out of you with ease. 

Though his head was now buried between your breasts, you reached down to lift him up until his arms stretched out to hold him up, hovering over you. In your throes of passion, your ultimate peak of pleasure incoming, you needed to look at him, to see his face as he watched you fall apart. 

“You’re beautiful,” he huffed. And you were. Your skin was drenched in sweat, probably from the immense heat of your bodies and the nearby fire. Beads of sweat and saliva that speckled your breasts were glimmering with the sparkle from the light. Your arms were flailed above your head, though not for long, as you reached up to pull his hair back, giving you a better look at his face. He was sweating, too, panting with agape lips that were made puffy from your kissing. He always had deep-set eyes, but they looked so dark now, filled with lust and the utmost desire for you to feel the pleasure you so deserved. 

As you squirmed underneath him, you managed to smile at his compliment. No one had ever made you feel as beautiful as him, and he really made you believe it. “I feel beautiful,” you panted. “I’m so close…”

He straightened his back a bit, digging into you from a slightly more extreme angle. It caused you to let out a gasp of surprise at the change in feeling, the new stimulation his tip was creating as it hit into you. “Oh, oh!” 

With such an incredible feeling came the need to cry out, so you covered your own mouth with your hand, trying not to wake the sleeping baby upstairs. Though your hand muffled your moans, the sensation was so strong that your other hand dug into the skin of his shoulder, making him grunt in return.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, though. He’d let you use his body in whatever way you needed to. In fact, he liked it much more than he should’ve. When you were rough with him, even though it was unintentional, it awakened a wildness in him that he often thought he’d grown out of, but it was always within him, you just had a way of bringing it back out.

The newfound confidence he gained made him move faster now, yet still with the gentleness he started out with. He breathed out a huff, then a few words. “You like this?” he panted. “You like what I’m doin’ to ya?”

“You know I do,” you mumbled against your palm. 

“I feel ya about to come,” he said. “Feel ya squeezin’ me.”

Another jolt of pleasure, another tightness throughout your core. His movements didn’t give you a chance to recover—you arched your back and gasped as the string inside you broke. Your legs spread further apart by instinct as your hips writhed and gyrated with every pulse. 

Even in the dim light, he swore he could see your entrance twitching and tightening around him where his body met yours. He certainly could feel it, that enticing pressure that commanded him to stay in you, begging him to let himself go. 

Well, the last time he did that, you ended up with a surprise bundle of joy. 

With your body still squirming and moaning underneath him, he pulled himself out, tugging with his hand as he watched you enjoy the last moments of your bliss.

You opened your legs up even more, reaching your hand down to stroke your slit, just to give him something to look at. It was quite amusing to watch him, too, how his hair hung loose over his face as he hung his head down to watch your movements. He finally reached his peak, his other hand catching his spend.

With that, his energy left him. He allowed himself to fall back down onto you, then roll himself over with you in his arms, until you were snuggled against his side. 

It didn’t last long, though, because you were cold, so you fetched the quilt draped over the edge of the couch, along with another throw pillow for Daryl. He’d insisted he didn’t need one, and that you should have both, of course. You ignored him.

The fire was low now, almost embers, but it was still bright enough to bring light to your faces. You traced the curves of his features for a while, tickling his nose any chance you got. It occupied you as you thought of new worries.

“You’re going to the Hilltop tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, then Commonwealth, then back home. Like I usually do.”

You knew the routine well—the trade route always involved several stops at the three settlements, and the whole circuit took about a week to complete, but one week out of the month without him was still the one thing you wished to change in your life. Granted, you were quite spoiled if the only problem in your life was not getting your husband to yourself twenty-four seven. Maybe you were just clingy, but Daryl always liked that about you, and, anyway, he was clingy, too. Possibly even more than you.

“Hm…” You tightened your arm around his waist, nuzzling your head further against his chest, as if to never let him leave. “Well, say hi to Maggie and Hershel for me. Oh, and Robin has another little letter for him she wants you to deliver. It’s on her desk, I’ll get it in the morning before you leave.” The two children had become pen pals ever since Maggie returned to Hilltop. You found their new friendship to be quite sweet, knowing that Glenn would’ve loved to see all the children getting along. 

“Guess I’m a glorified mailman now, huh?” he said with a huff, which you knew to be his form of laughter. “Well, uh…”

His voice trailed off and his small smirk faded as he began to think. He didn’t look worried or upset, but nervous, almost. It was strange, he’d hardly ever looked nervous around you anymore.

“What is it?” 

“Nothin’, just… There’s somethin’ I been thinkin’ ‘bout for a while. Been meanin’ to ask ya.”

There was a strange quality to his voice, almost like he was… excited? Nervous, and excited. It made you shake your head in slight bewilderment. He seemed so youthful, with the subtle, flickering glow of the nearby embers accentuating the angles of his high cheekbones. 

“Go ahead.” Whatever was making Daryl so excited, it was bound to make you excited, too. 

“Well, I was thinkin’… Maybe tomorrow you could come with me on the rest of the trip.”

That wasn’t all he was thinking, but it was the first step. Luckily, the first step went over well. You immediately beamed at the thought. In fact, you’d wanted to ask, but you feared that Daryl might grow irritated at your desire to be with him when he was doing his “job.” The fact that he asked you was a relief. 

“Oh, that’s a great idea! I’d love to go, honey. I really want to see Maggie, and I’d love to meet Rosie. I’m sure Ezekiel would like to hear about Daisy. Aaron could take care of the kids, and I know Gabriel would help, too.”

“But, uh, that ain’t all I was thinkin’.”

“Oh?”

He cleared his throat. “Ya know… Ya know how, a while back, I said I’d take you on a vacation?”

The thought amused you as it came back to mind. Indeed, it was almost exactly a year ago, down in the sewers underneath Alexandria. It was a dark time, but in the midst of that darkness were moments like that. 

“Yes, I remember. You said something about… riding off into the sunset on your motorcycle,” you laughed. “Well, that’s how I interpreted it, anyway. Why?”

He shrugged, though he knew why he was asking. “Guess I was jus’ wonderin’ if maybe we could do that soon, that’s all. Maybe when we get back from the trade, we can just… be gone for a little while. Few weeks. I dunno.”

As your fingers absentmindedly traced shapes through the wiry hairs sprouting from his chest, you thought of the logistics of such a plan. You knew that Aaron wouldn’t mind taking care of the kids, and Gabriel did owe you a few favors after you’d taken care of Coco. Lydia and Elijah lived in Alexandria, too, and would surely keep an eye out for the children that Lydia came to know as her family. Some of the other neighbors would be fine with helping out, too. They all loved Robin, and many of them had offered to babysit Wes whenever you needed it. Dog was already eating off everyone’s porch, and Robin was now an expert at caring for her rabbit. 

“Where will we go?” you finally asked. 

“Jus’... anywhere.”

And so, the next morning, you were off. 

At the Hilltop, Maggie expressed interest in your “vacation.” She said it would be a good opportunity to find new people, and to find leads for new resources for the communities. Of course, before you’d leave, you’d stop again back at home to say goodbye. 

It wasn’t an easy goodbye, not in the slightest. You held onto Wes for some time that morning, while Daryl went through extra care to go over the “security protocols” with Robin. You weren’t entirely sure what that included, but it had something to do with operating the complicated lock on your front door. 

Outside the gates, Aaron met you to see you off, with Lydia holding baby Westley. Beside his bike, Daryl held Robin’s cheeks in his fingerless-gloved hands, kneeling down to the girl’s height. He squinted his eyes as he examined her face, clenched somewhere between forced strength and the strength she was born with. There seemed to be a glimmer in her eye, where a tear threatened to fall. 

“We won’t be gone long,” he said, brushing the tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Few weeks, month at the most.”

“But it’ll feel a lot longer,” she said weakly. Still, she allowed her lips to curl into a half-smile. “Can you bring me back a new Barbie? A veterinarian one?”

Ever since you began telling her about Hershel, Maggie’s father and her friend’s namesake, she dreamed of becoming a veterinarian, taking care of all the animals in Alexandria. It was a dream that you hoped would come true for her. 

“Yeah, I’ll look for it… And I promise we’ll be back ‘fore your birthday.” She beamed at that. She was turning eight in a month. Time was going so fast. 

He took her in for a hug, and with his chin resting upon her shoulder, he quietly said, “Keep an eye on your brother, all right? And take care of Dog. Make sure he don’t eat that bunny.”

She laughed before placing a small kiss on his cheek. “Okay, Daddy. I promise.”

“And be good for your uncle. Listen to him…” He trailed off, knowing he didn’t really have to waste those words on such a well-behaved child. Now, Westley was another story, but alas, he couldn’t quite understand anything Daryl would say to him. “I dunno why I’m tellin’ ya, birdie. You’ll be just fine.”

As he rose to his feet, you came towards them, Wes on your hip as he chewed on his teething ring. His little feet wiggled in his tiny cowboy boots (the ones Daryl brought home because they reminded him of a certain police officer he used to know) as you handed him to his father, who held the restless child up in the air as he made a wide-eyed face to entertain him. “Hey, scout, now you’re the one I’m worried ‘bout.” 

You felt Robin’s arms wrap around your waist, and her cheek leaning against your upper arm. As you looked down, you freed your arm to squeeze her close. Your hand settled in her hair, brushing back the silky, pale brown waves. “Will you be all right, sweet pea?”

“Yeah, just…” She looked up with glassy eyes and slightly quivering lips. “I’ll be worried, s’all. There’s climbers out there.”

That was the newest threat. A new… adaptation. Some walkers were climbing, even picking up objects. Not many, but enough to warrant new protocols. That was part of what you were interested in exploring. Maybe someone, somewhere, knew something about these new walkers. Or at least, maybe you’d get some leads. It couldn’t hurt to look.

“Mm, well, I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but… I’m pretty good out there.” You pulled your ice axe from its loop on your belt, flashing the thin silver blade. “And nothing’s going to stop me and Daddy from coming back home to you and your brother, you know.”

“I know.” You took her in for a full hug, squeezing her so tight she squealed a little. “I’ll miss your hugs.”

“Me too…” You sighed as you pulled away to look at her. She looked so much like Daryl, as she always did, but for the first time, you noticed a quality in her face that resembled… you. It was a brief resemblance that seemed to only show itself in certain angles and lights, but it really showed now. Maybe she was growing up, not anywhere near a young woman yet, but you could see it in her. It was coming, and it brought a tear to your eye. You didn’t want to miss a second of it, but this would be good for you, for Robin, for everyone. 

“I think this might be the longest I’ll have ever been away from you, chipmunk. Your daddy’s been away for months before, but…” 

Robin’s kiss distracted you from your imminent tears. “It’s okay, Mommy. We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay. Maybe when you get back, Wes will know some more words.”

You felt Daryl’s warm presence beside you, and you heard Wes’s babbling. The little boy just looked so happy, smiling wide with the few tiny baby teeth he’d been growing. As you brushed back his wispy brown hairs, Daryl pressed a kiss to his cheek before handing him back to Lydia. 

“You sure you’re okay with taking care of him?” you asked. “You can always ask Gabe and Aaron for help, too. They’ve babysat him before.”

The young woman extended her metal arm for a hug. You sighed against her shoulder, knowing you were going to miss her, too. “We’ll all take care of them both,” she said. “It takes a village, right?”

“Thank you… It means a lot to me.”

Aaron was the last one you had to say goodbye to. It took a lot of willpower to end that hug, but wherever you were going, you had a long way to go. 

“Be careful out there,” he said. “And don’t worry about everything here. Just… just be careful, okay?”

There was no mistaking that look in his eye, and that slight frown on his face that aged him a few years. You much preferred his smile, but you knew he was a lot like you, and that it was hard to smile when there was so much to worry about. “I will. I promise. I’ll be back before you know it.”

He nodded with a strained smile. “I know.” With a sigh, he pulled you in for another hug. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he had a bad feeling. 

“Aaron,” you said, “stop worrying. I told you I’ll be careful. You know, I lived out on the road for a while, unlike some people.”

His smile seemed natural now, more warm and relaxed. “You’re my baby sister,” he said. “I’m always going to worry about you. Dad used to say I had to watch out for you, make sure the other kids didn’t pick on you.” 

And yet they still did, but he tried his best. 

“And you always did watch out for me. Now I can watch out for myself.”

“I know, (Y/N). Still, be careful.”

When you pulled yourself away, Daryl stepped in to hug Aaron. It was a far cry from the first day the two met, you thought. You rather clearly recalled Daryl’s first words to Aaron being, “No one gives a shit.” If you’d been asked to imagine the two men sharing a hug back then, you weren’t sure you could do it. 

“Take care of my sister,” he said, quietly enough so that you couldn’t hear as you strapped your bag to Daryl’s bike. Light packing wasn’t your strong suit, but somehow you managed to fit everything you needed into one knapsack. 

Daryl chewed his bottom lip as he nodded. Aaron had spoken in a stern voice, but underlying that was a clear understanding between brothers, not just friends. “I will.”

As he climbed onto the bike, he turned the key into the ignition, bringing the engine to life. When you settled behind him, grasping at his shoulders to steady yourself, you were alerted to Westley’s cries, no doubt spurred on by the loud engine, though you were a little gutted inside, thinking maybe, just maybe, he knew you were leaving. 

“Bye!” you called out over the roar of the bike. Robin, Lydia, and Aaron matched your wave, and soon Westley’s cries calmed down. Maybe it was the sound of your voice. 

Daryl flashed a smile towards them, then turned his head to speak over his shoulder to you. “Ready?”

With a deep breath, you wrapped your arms tight around his waist, but not before adjusting his poncho slightly. “Ready.”

It was a beautiful April day, with fluffy clouds rolling slowly in the pale blue sky. Beyond the nearby hills, you could just see the sliver of the moon begin to dip below the horizon. Darkness was far away now, and for a moment, you thought back to the beginning of a different journey, one that started in darkness, but ended in the light. 

Well, it didn’t end. Nothing ever really ends. 

With a kick of the stand, the wheels were rolling, and Daryl stepped hard on the gas, jolting you to grip onto him tighter. Your chin dug into his shoulder, just the way he liked. That way, he knew you were really holding on, and that you were there with him. It was what he needed. In his heart, he knew one thing—he’d never be able to leave home again without you. 

The road went on straight for a while, and every chance you got, you looked back to see those three figures getting smaller and smaller, but Robin’s little arm was still waving. You let go of Daryl for a moment to wave back, even though you were sure she couldn’t see you.

I love you all. 

Soon the road bent, turning into a grove of trees that finally separated you from your home, the place you fought for, and the people that made it worth fighting for. 

But then, there was still Daryl, and that was more than enough to remind you of every beautiful thing you had in this world. In fact, it all started with him. It started that day the bolt from his crossbow tunneled through a walker’s skull, the walker that very well would’ve killed you if it weren’t for him. 

If it weren’t for him, you’d have never known love at all. That was what you believed to be true. There was no love like his before him, but whatever love you did have, it wasn’t his. His was what you’d been waiting for all your life, what you were put on Earth to feel. 

Today wasn’t unlike that day you met him, you supposed. It was a time when everything was changing, and as one world was ending, another was beginning. Though this time, you didn’t feel anything was ending, only that today was the start of some great journey. You couldn’t explain it, you just felt it. 

However the world would change next, you found yourself repeating that old mantra: Don’t ever be afraid.

You were so lost in your thoughts for a while that you didn’t even notice the great speed at which you were going. As you pinched his side, signaling for him to slow, you shouted above the sound of the engine, “Slow down!”

He shook his head as he let out a laugh. “Thought you’d never notice.” His foot eased up on the gas pedal, and now you could more clearly watch the trees go by, one by one. 

You weaved through a small group of walkers stumbling on the road, but their mindless groans were easy to ignore. In fact, you didn’t really notice them at all. Nothing could spoil this moment, this beautiful world that you’d come to know and love, despite everything that threatened to take it away from you. 

No, nothing could take this away from you. Nothing could take away this bright light of love that seemed to move at the speed of sound down the old dirt road. It was unstoppable, and wherever the two of you went, you’d take it with you, and never let it go. 

Now, you just had to figure out where you were going, but something told you that the light of love would guide the way. 

~

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Series Masterlist

[honeysickledream]

Honeysickledream's Masterlist

About Me | AO3

legend: sfw = ☆ | nsfw = ✦ | header and dividers from @/saradika-graphics

COD:

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

Ghost x F!Reader: 'Overgrown' - Chap 1. ☆ | Chap 2. ☆ | Chap 3. ☆ | Chap 4. | Chap 5. (halloween edition) | Ghost x GN!Reader: 'Overloaded' ☆

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

Gaz as a Westley (Princess Bride) Kind of Man Thought ☆ Gaz x GN!Reader - Decompression ☆

John Price:

Price x GN!Reader: 'Dioramas' ✦

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish:

Soap x GN! Reader: 'Speed Trap Towns' ☆ Soap x F!Scientist!Reader: 'Stellate (sex pollen)' ✦ Soap x F!Reader: 'Piss Kink Shirt' ✦ Soap x GN!Reader: 'Large, Distant Family' ☆

TF 141 / Poly 141

Poly141 x F!Reader: Who's Who, Darling? Part 1 ✦ | Part 2 ✦

'Committing to Memory' Series (WIP)

Sound | Price x GN!Reader ✦ TBD | Gaz x []!Reader TBD | Ghost x []!Reader TBD | Soap x []!Reader