#yours was the first prompt i got and i actually came up with this idea before sonny's but i had to sit a while longer with it before writin

[fearandhatred]

Good Omens and "Ghost" 💖

mari my beloved a poem for you!! <3 it is not 900 words this time but i made it about angel crowley again. and the final fifteen again. because i realised i have free will

text under the cut

i can't look at you some days, do you know that? it's not your fault, it never is just a thousand wrong places at a thousand wrong moments because when the light hits your face just right, when i turn to you a certain way, when the warmth of your hands brushes that spot on my wing i see the galaxies behind you, the pleats of that bygone white robe and lavish gold collar and for a moment your eyes flicker brown, the light reddens your hair it's not your face i see from before, it's mine remnants of a being that was, a phantom grace

it's not your fault that you still have that wonder in your eyes that your indulgence is still all-consuming it never is but maybe we met a thousand different times that we shouldn't have

so even as you kiss me i think maybe some odds are just not meant to be overcome maybe heredity is meant to be honoured maybe when fate decides to tear two beings apart, they should allow it because i love you, and i'll love you for all my days but on some of them i can't bear to see your face

so maybe it's okay that you're gone, back to where my spirit can't return to because at least i don't have to look at you anymore, or be petrified that i can't and maybe it's okay that a different kind of hurt resides in my bones now because now you're just another ghost to follow me around, with no one left to revive me

the dead leading the dead

[salem-witch-slut]

Prostitution (18+)

Sevika x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.

WARNINGS: Brothel work (prostitute!reader), dom!Sevika, sub!reader, hair pulling, leather lingerie, grinding, fingering, strap-on use (r!receiving), Daddy Sevika, biting (briefly)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

A/N: In honor of Arcane Season 2 coming out today, thought I would bring back one of my best kinktober prompts with everybody's favorite muscle mommy. Briefly considered making a part 2 for this but lemme know what you guys think?

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Well, truth be told, you didn’t think this was a good idea… But it was the only idea you had left. Your family was dead, like everyone was in the Undercity. Your partner got herself killed from a shimmer overdose, and you were facing being homeless. Your entire world was turned upside down and it was all fucked to no end. But now you had to pick up the pieces.

You were hired at the brothel. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Well, you knew Babette, and she was willing to give you a chance. It was decent money, and you were given free food during every shift. How could you turn it down?

It was your first week and you have already been through hell. The women who came to the brothel tended to be high on shimmer and sloppy at best, but the men; they were aggressive, vicious, and you found yourself leaving with aches and pains every single night.

And yet, when you entered the room that you were assigned to today, you were surprised to say the least. The outfit on the bench was… strange. Normally, the clientele wanted something revealing, lace, and soft bright colors. No, you were given something black, made of leather, and matching black heels to complete the look.

“Don’t question it,” You told yourself. “Just put it on.”

You slowly stripped off all your clothes and pulled on the leather bustier and black lace panties. Your fingers twitched slightly as you strapped the heels to your feet and ran your fingers through your hair… Your lipstick was a deep maroon color, and you had dark, dramatic eyeliner. Seems like you thought it all out already?

Who was your client today? Why were you so nervous? What if it was a man that was three times your size? What if it was more than one man? What if you got hurt today?

“Did you hear about who she picked today?” A shiver raced down your spine as you approached the curtains in front of your door, biting down on your painted lip. Who were they talking about?

“Oh, I heard. Cute little new girl is about to get ruined today, huh?” You… they were talking about you! But who else? Who was she?

You’ll get your answer soon enough.

It felt like forever until you heard heavy footfalls in the hallways. Whispers carried in the corridors, along with the aggressive clicks of heels from your fellow ‘coworkers’ running away from whoever was making their presence known inside of the building. Your fingers trembled as you dared a peek out from behind your curtain.

Not even a second later, the curtain was being pulled back and in walked your client… Tall, muscular, handsome, and absolutely terrifying.

The brothel’s most regular visitor. Silco’s right hand… the person that everyone in the underground fears.

Sevika.

You nearly fell down the stairs, heels slipping on the concrete flooring as you tried to back away and give her the space she deserved. But it seemed she had other ideas.

Before your body could come in contact with the ground, the woman reached out and grabbed both of your hips with her hands. Her right hand was warm and calloused, a pulse beneath her flesh, but her left hand? Cold, sharp, and thrumming with the energy of her mechanical arm hidden beneath that cloak she always wears.

“Easy, doll,” Her voice is deep, husky almost as she steps forward and lowers you down to the stable surface behind you. Shivers raced down your back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trembling in her grasp. For a moment, neither of you said anything. But then her eyes raked all over your body and she breathed, hard. “Damn, look at you… Pretty little thing all dressed up just for me?”

Were you supposed to speak? You have heard so many stories about Sevika… how aggressive and cruel she is out there on the streets, and how she kills without mercy or a care in the world. You were scared of her, to say the least… And Sevika could see it in your eyes. She knew what her reputation was and was more than happy to push the agenda.

“Scared of me?”

You inhaled sharply, your hands slowly sliding from your sides to hold onto her forearms. The whirring of the mechanics of her arm made your thighs tremble. “N-No, miss…”

“Funny,” Sevika reached down and gently ran her rough fingertips along the edge of your jaw before she slid her hand in your hair. “Only dumb girls feel no fear… Now, you aren’t dumb, are you sweet thing?”

 You breathed slowly for a second, fearing you said something wrong to her. She looked amused, but looks could be deceiving… The gap between her two front teeth was cute. You focused on the crease of her jawline, the scars on her face, and the way her brows were pulled down.

She was so fucking hot that you forgot why you were afraid… and then, she grabbed at your hair, making you yelp and submit. Your hands had slid far too high up, and she was punishing you… Fuck, she was punishing you! “Better watch it. I’m paying to touch you, not the other way around.”

“But—” You hiccupped, looking into her eyes for the briefest second. She waited for your words to continue. “S-sorry…”

“Oh, she has manners?” Sevika showed off the smile that made your stomach flutter for a brief moment and reached down with both hands, gripping your thighs and lifting you off the floor like you weighed almost nothing to her. Out of instinct, your hands reached up and grabbed onto her shoulders for stability. “We’re going to have fun.”

Before you could utter another sound, you felt something press against you… something solid, and stiff. Something that felt like it was alive, right against the wet spot on your panties. A low moan left your throat, and you just immediately knew what it was.

“Take it off, doll,” Sevika breathed against your neck. “You know you want to.”

Fingers trembled as you reached for the cloak on her shoulders and slowly pulled it over her head. The brown fabric dropped to the floor behind her, and you looked down, confirming your suspicion. Sevika was strapped under her pants… the bulge was now way more obvious without the cloak.

“Feel that?” Sevika pressed her flesh hand to your rear and stepped forward, spinning you around and sitting herself down on the couch behind you. The second you were in her lap, she was pushing you down onto her hips and grinding the bulge against your cunt like it was her damn birthright to do so.

Your pulse quickened with every passing second, and you dropped your face down against her chest, breathing in the scent of tobacco and her natural scent… Strong, earthy, like a roaring wood fire. You didn’t know what came over you, but before you could scold yourself for knowing better, your tongue came in contact with her bear neck and your lips trailed all over her exposed skin.

Sevika tensed up and her fingers went from holding your hips to sliding under the fabric of your panties, grabbing at your flesh and making you instinctively bite down on her shoulder. Nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough for her to feel it. Sevika looked like she was about to start climbing the walls as she felt your hips roll forward on top of her.

With a simple flick of her metallic fingers, the underwear given to you was ripped off your body and you barely had time to recover before Sevika was lifting you off her lap and reaching to pull the zipper of her pants down. A sigh left your throat, and you could only push your face into her neck; Sevika didn’t like that.

“Nuh-uh,” She grabbed your chin with her flesh hand, pulling you back to look down into her eyes. Her grey irises were staring directly passed your fears and into your soul. It was like she was lighting you on fire from the inside out. “You look at me. Prettiest fucking girl is going to look at me when I fuck her.”

Her words made you blush from the tips of your ears down to your neck and you almost forgot that this was your job… It was easy to think that Sevika had just picked you out of everyone in the underground to have a night with. Not… that she was paying for it.

“Don’t worry,” Sevika smirked, that crease in her brow becoming more prominent as you felt her hand leave your face and slide down between your legs. When you felt her calloused fingers against your soft wet folds, you forgot how to breathe. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

The sound you made was beyond pornographic. Two of her fingers slipped inside of your wetness without any kind of resistance. Your entire body went rigid, and your eyes fluttered for a brief second before you forced yourself to look at her. Sevika smirked and basked in your expressions, slowly pushing you up and down on her digits.

What did you even say? What were you supposed to do? Sevika isn’t like your other clients… She’s so intense, even when she’s barely touching you. It feels like you are drowning, even if it’s just her presence surrounding you. Your inner walls squeeze at her fingers as she curls them at just the right angle. Sevika smirked.

“Oh, you like that?” Sevika kept you steady on her lap with her metal hand while the other one worked in and out of your pussy. “So wet for me, already? Barely touched you, doll.”

“Fuuck...” You rolled your entire body forward, biting your lip and leaning down just enough to press soft kisses against her face. “P-Please—”

“Please, what?” Sevika said sternly. “Use your words, doll.”

“I… I n-need… ohfuck...”

“Come on,” She smirked, curling her fingers at just the right angle that you almost feel your legs give out. “Just say it—”

“Fuck me,” You whine, finally giving in. “Please, please, please… fuck me, daddy.”

There was a hunger in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It was like a switch had flipped inside of her because in mere seconds, you went from sitting on her lap to her pushing you down into the floor that was littered with pillows, blankets, anything you could desire to make this as comfortable as possible.

Sevika all but ripped her pants to try and free what had been teasing you initially. You only had a few seconds to really look at the strap around her hips before she was lining the tip of the bright purple silicone against your core.

“Pretty little thing,” Sevika growled, almost ferally as she slammed down overtop of you. Suddenly, the leather around your chest felt entirely too tight, like you couldn’t breathe. You began frantically reaching for the ties to undo the restraint on your chest, and Sevika noticed because you gasped at her ripping the ropes off the bustier and pushing the fabric apart to really look at you.

“Now, because you were a good girl…” Sevika gently prodded your opening, making you whimper and reach for her biceps. “You get a warning before you get fucked.”

“Daddy, please—”

That was her trigger. You could only grab at her muscles before she was plunging all of her strap inside of your cunt like it belonged to her. You tried to scream, but nothing came out other than a strangled squeak as your head went back on the pillows and tears filled your eyes.

You aren’t a stranger to being stretched out like this. It wasn’t like it was your first day at the brothel… but it was your first day with Sevika. She only gave you a few seconds to adjust to that cock before she was reaching down with her flesh fingers and gently rubbing at your clit.

Your soft squeaks faded into intense moans, much to the woman’s delight. She chuckled, watching you squirm and look at her like she was an alien of some sort.

“Not what you expected, doll?” Sevika teased, rolling her hips forward and making you moan like the whore you were. “Didn’t think I’d care about making you feel good?”

Very stupidly, you nodded.

“Let me fix that,” She leaned down, and you curled your fingers into the leather of her jacket before bracing yourself for the most intense workday of your entire fucking life.

“Be good for daddy and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll beg me not to leave.”

And that is exactly what Sevika did.

[redflagshipwriter]

Snitches the cat and his favorite bat

I wrote up dpxdc fics based off of prompts I happened to see in the last day to add to the reading pile for anyone who didn't prep for the archive down time today.

EDIT

The idea for Danny as a cat came from @shycorvid, thank you so much for correcting me and letting me play in your sandbox!

Snitches the cat comes from @garbagewith-a-cherryontop (I think??? I couldn't find a definite first post!) but the fantastic linked post is the one with how I think Snitches the cat looks here.

Word count is 1053.

Tumblr reference

masterpost for my AO3 downtime fics

“Ugh- that's not- did we just summon a demon cat?”

“It's so messed up looking. Ew.”

Danny blinked and swayed on his feet. He'd had a tail a minute ago, speeding across the GZ to check in on Walker. There had been an unpleasant lurch in his stomach. And now he was on his feet. All four of them.

Wait, what?

“You fucked this up.”

His ears twitched at the sound of a slap. Danny swiveled towards the sound and then got distracted by the feeling of his ears swiveling back. Whaaaaat?

He looked down at his precious little feeties. They were adorable paws.

“Oh, you motherfuckers,” he said. It came out as a conversational yowl.

The humans looked at him from about ten feet away and five feet up. “Annoying…”

He was pretty sure they were high schoolers. There were five of them, two girls and three boys. They were all bigger than him. High schoolers were usually bigger than he was, but this was just ridiculous.

“Count yourself lucky, dimwits,” one of the older kids said. He took a step towards Danny. Danny pressed his ears flat against his head and hissed at the approach. “If you managed to sacrifice Patches to a demon, your Mom would straight up murder you.” He laughed when he said it, like anything about that was remotely funny.

Uh- what now?

Only now, Danny noticed a very distressed calico cat underneath a laundry basket on the other side of the room. There was a stack of textbooks weighing the basket down. A large rug had been rolled up and- he sneezed rapidly, eyes watering. Chalk! They'd drawn on the floor with chalk!

‘This is some incompetent summoning,’ Danny realized, way too late. ‘Did they- how did they turn me into a cat?’ He looked at his unfortunate brethren under the laundry basket. Her ears were flat against her skull and she looked scared.

He remembered the word “sacrifice” and his blood flushed hit with fury. They'd wanted him to eat her! They'd wanted something to eat miss Patches!

The teenagers froze and looked at him, aghast at the angry sounds that were coming out of his throat.

“Shut up!” One hissed. She took off her shoe and threw it at him. Danny dodged and then threw his head back to yowl even louder. Sonic attack! Aural damage, you big jerks!

“The neighbors are going to- make it shut up!”

Danny had to run, dashing over furniture and tearing his way across a crowded table to avoid being grabbed. He screamed the whole time, eager to alert whoever they were so afraid of. Someone should see!

The window burst in.

Danny stopped running, shocked. He hadn't actually expected-

Someone snatched him up from behind and smacked him on the face with a palm. His jaw exploded with pain. It cut off his yowling.

Stunned. He was still for a moment and then he struggled for his life. The grip on his ribs was way too tight-

He looked over at the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. Holy shit, that was bomb as hell. His eyes went wide at the sight of a heavily armored small child crouched on the windowsill. The boy's eyes were covered, but Danny could still see him look at Danny and the poor calico under the laundry basket. He sneered.

“Unhand the cat or lose your hands at the wrist, you wretch.”

Danny loved him.

The teenager dropped him. Danny caught himself with a stumble. He let out a sad mraow before he could stop himself.

Fight club baby was enraged. “What have you done to this animal?” He hopped down into the room, revealing he was at least a foot shorter than the smallest girl in the room.

Danny trotted to him and started winding around his ankles admiringly. What a good kid! He purred.

“I will be taking both of your cats with me. If you ever harm an animal again, it will be your head that is found in a chalk-”

“Robin.” A hugeass grown man squeezed himself through the window that the kid had broken. Danny craned his head up, up, up, to see him case the joint.

The older man radiated incredible judgment. “I see that you require education on animal welfare and demonic summoning. Go on, Robin.”

“That's my Mom's cat!” One of the teenagers protested. “You can't take her!”

Robin growled at her. Danny jumped in his skin at the sound.

“Then we shall return it to your Mother and her alone, when we explain what you've done.” Danny let murder baby scoop him up and purred at full volume. Hell yeah. He looked at the cowering teenagers with condescension.

“Not that fugly thing.”

Danny blinked. He ended up making an inquisitive mraow. Why was a finger being pointed at him? He was baby.

“That thing showed up, you can get rid of it. But Patches is Mom's cat, and you can't steal a cat because-”

“Batman can steal any cat!” Robin bit out, gathered up Patches, and jumped out the window with both cats in an expert grip.

That didn't sound right, but Danny just enjoyed the night air as a line pulled Robin up to where yet another masked vigilante was waiting, cackling himself to tears.

“Batman can steal any cat,” he wheezed. “Brilliant. Good detour, Robin. Can I hold one?” He held out his blue-striped palms expectantly.

He faltered when he saw Danny, visibly surprised.

Danny… was starting to feel bad. He curled into Robin, hurt. He wasn't ugly. Why did people keep reacting to him weird?

“No,” Robin said curtly. “You have damaged his pride, and Patches is still reeling from her shock.”

The man let out a sigh but let the topic go. “That's Patches, and this is…?”

Robin hesitated. “He is the Snitch.”

That unlocked cooing. “Snitches? Snitchy Snitch Sni- ow!”

Danny snapped at the hand that came way too close and he let out a warning growl. No baby talk!

Robin seemed very pleased. He rubbed behind Danny's ears. “Snitch… I suppose that Snitches will suffice. We are taking him home.”

“....Maybe, just for fun, we should take him to get treated for mange first!” The guy made jazz hands to go with his statement.

Robin and Danny both growled that time.

[littlexdeaths]

𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 (𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖)

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: reader is a bit insecure, little sprinkle of jealous eddie, reader wears glasses, smooching, also the finest cheese in all the land (i hope) <3

part two | part four

let’s go, don’t wait masterlist

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this ended up bit longer than i intended so oops. but big thanks to @strangerstilinski for brainstorming some ideas with me to further cheesify the kissing scene. and another HUGE thank you to @undead-supernova for helping me with fix some things and for looking this over. I LOVE YOU BOTH <3

“What do you mean you didn’t kiss him?!”

You quickly turn to give Nancy a pointed glare before digging deeper into your locker to retrieve your biology textbook.

But really, it is a valid question.

“I— just,” you blow out an exasperated breath. “I panicked, alright? Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

While your date didn’t end on a bad note by any means, it definitely ended on a lame one.

When Eddie dropped you off at home after the two of you spent way too much time cozying up in a corner booth at Benny’s— you weren’t entirely ready to say goodnight to him yet.

But when he walked you to your front door and carefully started to lean in, those pesky nerves got the best of you. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before he had the chance to reach your lips.

Feelings of disappointment clawed at your insides once your lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek instead of his lips, your tinted chapstick leaving a tinge of pink in its wake. 

Eddie cleared his throat, carefully rubbing the back of his neck while he bid you goodnight. 

You’d barely shut the door behind you when your smile faltered and all those feelings of self doubt you’d managed to push aside all night came creeping back in. 

Everything was going so well, why couldn’t you just kiss him? It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed someone before. 

Your first kiss happened your sophomore year, with band geek Ray Howard in King Steve’s coat closet during a stupid game of 7 minutes in heaven that neither of you enjoyed. 

If you were brave enough to do that, why couldn’t you kiss the guy you actually liked? 

“Well, when are you gonna see him again?” Nancy prompts. You shrug once you slam your locker shut.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid he’s not gonna want another date. I mean, I gave him a peck on the cheek! How lame is that.”

You hug your textbooks to your chest as you head to class with Nancy, who is desperately trying to convince you that Eddie would be insane if he didn’t want to see you again.

You just hoped she was right.

When you don’t see him at lunch, you instantly deflate a little. The doom and gloom that lingers outside the school now mirrors your mood, taking any semblance of your appetite with it. You hadn’t seen him all day, so that only seemed to confirm your worries.

He’s avoiding you. What else could it be?

It’s not like him to skip out on lunch, so instead of heading further into the cafeteria you turn heel to head toward the library— 

And almost collide directly into Eddie.

His leather clad arms instantly wrap around you, a teasing smirk playing on his full lips. Lips you so desperately want to feel pressed against your own.

“Sweetheart, we really gotta stop meeting like this,” he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “One of these days you’ll take both of us out.”

You let out a nervous giggle and an apology, relief filling your chest as his smile grows wider in response. Damn Nancy for always being right.

“Where are you headed in such a rush anyway?” he asks, finally letting you go, much to your dismay.

“Uh… the library. Wasn’t feeling super hungry.”

He nods, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He looks even prettier than when you saw him on Friday. His curls are a little more unruly, his stubble more pronounced. 

And when you catch the faintest hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket and how it mixes with his spicy cologne— it has your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Well, anyway, I was wondering…”

A small grunt leaves his lips as his body is forced forward, directly into yours. The jock that just shoulder checked him mutters a “watch it, freaks” under his breath before continuing past you into the cafeteria.

The shove has closed the remaining distance between you, your faces merely inches apart now. Your palms rest against his chest, feeling how his breath slightly quickens beneath your fingertips. You could so easily kiss him like this, all you have to do is tilt your head up…

But you choke, eyes darting back down nervously toward your feet when you take a small step back.

“Are you alright?” you ask, meeting his eyes once more.

Eddie doesn’t even seem phased by what just occurred, his warm eyes entirely still focused on you.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can handle myself.”

Eddie motions to his torso, lifting the lapels of his jacket as if to prove his point.

“See? Not even a scratch.”

And it takes all your self control to keep your eyes from wandering lower, past the soft cotton of his shirt, over the handcuff buckle of his belt…

Focus.

“Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” his voice raises in volume, eyes throwing a pointed glare towards the jocks table before they settle back on you. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Eddie nods towards the Hellfire table, your eyes drifting across the cafeteria. The familiar group of males are already seated at their usual spots, engaged in a heated debate over something.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eddie can sense your hesitation, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I promise they don’t bite.” He grins, beginning to lead you toward the lunch table. “Can’t say the same for me though.”

He whispers that last part, his lips playfully grazing over the shell of your ear. Eddie can feel how you shiver in response, thoroughly satisfied with himself as you try to compose yourself once you reach his friends.

The guys barely spare either of you a passing glance, still deep in their conversation when Eddie pulls up a chair for you. Right at the head of the table next to his own.

You take a seat with a polite smile, each of the members of Hellfire now noticing your presence. And they can’t hide their utter shock and surprise as Eddie takes his seat beside you. He introduces you properly, going along the table until he reaches the two youngest members of Hellfire.

“While we haven’t been able to coax Sinclair back from the dark side,” he sighs, resting his arm on the back of your chair. “You obviously know Wheeler and Henderson already…”

“Oh, Mike knows her alright,” Dustin interjects, mischievously glancing over at his best friend. “He used to have the biggest crush—”

Mike elbows Dustin in the side before he can even finish his sentence, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he hangs his head.

“Would you shut it?” he hisses, already noting the way Eddie’s gaze hardens as he tugs your chair impossibly closer to his own.

“No… Henderson, please continue.”

A brow quirks up from underneath his bangs, and suddenly the whole table has gone silent, all eyes on their fearless leader.

Dustin nervously swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was… really stupid kid stuff, not important! Just forget I even brought it up. It was just a dumb— ”

The younger male’s voice raises an octave when he laughs, his nerves shining through.

“— right, just a dumb little crush,” Mike finishes, but Eddie doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

When you suddenly rest your hand on his knee under the table, his composure begins to slip. His eyes soften when he looks down at you. The whole table is practically holding their breath, in anticipation for Eddie’s next move.

But you beat him to it.

“Someone had to be the president of my fan club, right?” you giggle.

Mike just groans in response, head falling to the table while the other guys begin to chatter amongst themselves again, that underlying tension now beginning to melt. Much like you are under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, I’d gladly take over that position, if you’d have me.”

Your breath hitches at the underlying meaning behind his words, and, god, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do right now.

When Eddie slowly begins to lean in, Dustin practically gags, the chiming of the lunch bell stopping everything in its tracks.

“Saved by the bell,” he mutters under his breath.

The brunette unwillingly rises to his feet and reaches out a hand for you to take, keeping you closely tucked into his side while he walks you to your next class.

Your mind was racing the rest of the afternoon, impatiently watching the hand on the clock tick by ever so slowly— desperately waiting for the final bell to ring.

After Eddie had walked you to history, he planted a playful kiss to the back of your hand. Giving you a dramatic bow before heading in the opposite direction toward Ms. O’Donnell’s classroom. 

You were a fumbling mess once when you took your seat next to Nancy, and you could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to know everything.

So you spilled the beans during your walk to English afterwards, a plan beginning to form in your head with each step closer to Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Three failed kissing attempts was all your poor heart could take, so you spent the entirety of the last period plotting how you’d be able to get Eddie alone.

Which was how you found yourself pacing back and forth on the football field, eyes scanning the trees for any possible signs of movement. The palms of your hands are sweaty despite the crisp air, the fabric of your sneakers dampening with each step you take through the wet grass.

And you’re wondering if maybe this was a stupid idea, that maybe you heard Jeff wrong.

You knew Eddie dealt weed, the whole school did. But having never dabbled with the leafy substance yourself, you weren’t exactly sure where he made his deals at. So it was a stroke of luck when you overheard Jeff mention it in passing to Grant during English.

Something about how he was going to be late for rehearsal because some jock wanted to buy a bunch of reefer behind the football field. And who was Eddie to refuse a good sale? Especially when the douche was offering him a lot of money.

You’re abruptly broken out of your thoughts when you finally see his lanky figure emerging from the tree line and your heart kicks into first gear— about ready to burst out of your chest with each step he takes towards you.

His curls are a little damp from the mist hanging in the air, that signature dimple indenting his cheek when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

And despite your nerves, it’s a welcomed sight.

“Well, I didn’t take you for a stoner, sweetheart,” he begins.

But you don’t give him the chance to give you a proper greeting before you’re springing into action. Your fingers curl into the collar of his denim vest, meeting him halfway as you lean up to press your lips to his…

Only to end up knocking your heads together instead.

A small grunt of pain leaves him and your stomach twists in embarrassment, fingers gently pressing against your forehead as you wince.

“Oh my god, I am so—”

Those words barely have a chance to slip past your lips before he tilts your chin up and carefully molds his mouth over yours. His movements are slow but steady, as if gauging your response.

Your body reacts before your mind can fully process what’s happening, instinctively reeling him in closer and pressing your lips more firmly against his own. He hums softly, the sound setting your whole body alight.

As Eddie slips one of his hands around your waist, the other reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek. And when he begins to guide you backwards, you let him. Only stopping once your back is flush against the goal post. But even then, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

You can feel the cool metal seeping through the thin layer of your jacket, causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin. But even with the cool air continuing to nip at your exposed skin, you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips are like molten honey, sugary sweet and practically melting you to your core. And you swear this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever felt.

When he eventually pulls away and you take a shuddering breath in, your eyes remain closed. You’re practically on cloud nine, basking in the lingering tingles that prickle over your lips. His hand remains on your cheek, thumb brushing over where his lips just were.

Eddie suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest while his breath washes over the apples of your cheeks. Only then do your eyes flutter open and you realize the reason behind his amusement.

Your vision is completely obscured, the round lenses of your glasses fogged over from the heat of his breath. You can just barely make out his smile through the frames, but the silliness of the moment has you letting out a giggle of your own.

“May I?” he asks, the tips of his fingers grazing over where the arms of your glasses meet your temples.

You nod immediately, allowing him to remove them with the utmost care. He untucks his Judas Priest t-shirt from his jeans, using the soft cotton to clear the fog away from your lenses. Even with your blurred vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his tummy before it’s hidden away beneath his shirt again.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, he can’t help but feel like he’s really seeing you for the first time. Not hidden away behind a book or the thick wire frames of your glasses. Just you, in all your unbridled beauty.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he carefully places your glasses back onto the bridge of your nose.

Eddie just grins, leaning his forearm on the goal post above your head. He smells faintly like weed and peppermint gum, and you really want him to kiss you again.

“How’s about I give you a ride home, hm?”

You can’t hide your smile, nodding your head enthusiastically.

“I’d really like that.”

Eddie leans down to press one more searing kiss to your lips before he slips his hand in yours and pulls you along. The two of you now walking hand in hand across the football field.

“So, sounds like I’ve got some competition with Wheeler, huh?” he teases, squeezing your hand a little tighter in his.

“Oh come on, you’ve never had a crush on a babysitter before?”

Eddie takes a step in front of you, beginning to walk backwards while simultaneously guiding you forward.

“Well… considering my only babysitter was starting to bald and my uncle,” he practically shudders, “I’m gonna say no, sweetheart.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld

[channiesbakery]

roommates —

prompt / request — “when was the last time someone fucked you?”

pairing — roommate!wonwoo x reader x roommate!mingyu

word count — 1289

genre — smut [threesome, use of toys, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, degradation (slut), praise, creampie, swallowing, p in v, aftercare]

when you first moved in with mingyu and wonwoo, you were a bit worried about living with two men. but the two were always respectful and kind to you, always respecting your boundaries.

you got lucky with them as your roommates and you had a good relationship with both, but you couldn’t help your attraction to both men.

with two roommates, you rarely ever had time by yourself in the apartment. except for when they go to the gym together.

you knew their routine, you knew what time they leave and come back. and it was just enough time for you to have a little self care night.

you were cozy in bed, your headphones in as you listened to a dirty audio while you pumped your dildo in and out of yourself slowly, building up your orgasm.

mingyu and wonwoo came home early from their gym session, ready to shower and freshen up. they had planned to ask if you wanted to join them for a movie night in the living room.

on their way to their bedrooms, they passed your bedroom, hearing a soft noise coming from inside.

“sweetheart, you okay?” mingyu knocks softly.

you don’t mean to but the next whimper that leaves your mouth is mingyu’s name, completely unaware that your two roommates were standing outside your door.

wonwoo knocks again but when you don’t respond, they get worried, opening your door.

they were expecting to see you hurt or in trouble or something, anything but what they actually walked in on.

the light from the hallway pouring in startles you. you gasp, your head turning towards your door as you stop your movements.

both mingyu and wonwoo’s eyes zero in on the dildo between your legs as you quickly pull your blanket over you.

“fuck- we didn’t mean to-” “we heard a noise and thought you were hurt-” they both stammer.

“i wasn’t expecting you guys to be home,” you blush. “is this what you do when we’re gone?” wonwoo raises an eyebrow, watching as your blush grew darker.

“ugh stop,” you whine as they both came closer to your bed. “stop? don’t think i didn’t hear you whimpering my name. thought you needed my help but definitely not like this,” mingyu smirks, sitting on the edge of your bed, placing his hand on your thigh over the covers, watching your reaction.

“do you need our help, princess? you look a bit on edge,” wonwoo asks. “you can say no, and we can pretend nothing happened,” mingyu says softly, both of them giving you reassuring looks.

“maybe… i don’t want to pretend nothing happened,” you murmur, pulling your covers back. their eyes both trail up and down your body as wonwoo gripped your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss.

“don’t be greedy, wonwoo, she was moaning my name after all,” mingyu turns your head to face him instead, pressing his lips to yours.

mingyu starts to pull you onto his lap but wonwoo’s voice stops you both. “not yet,” wonwoo says as you pull apart, both of you turning to face him.

“i want to watch her fuck herself with her toy,” wonwoo says, glancing down between your legs where your dildo laid.

“good idea. you weren’t shy about moaning my name out loud, so go ahead and give us a show baby,” mingyu smirks

“but i want your cocks,” you pout at your roommates, reaching out to palm wonwoo through his sweats.

“gotta show us you can handle it first,” wonwoo picks up your dildo, sliding it back inside you and pushing it in and out a couple times before letting you take over.

you let out mewl, whimpering as they watched you play with yourself.

“so needy. when’s the last time someone fucked you, princess?” wonwoo murmurs in your ear before kissing your neck while mingyu’s hands palmed your tits.

“a while… a couple months?” you whimper but it was hard to think with their touch on you plus your toy stretching you out.

“poor thing. could’ve asked us. we would’ve taken care of you,” mingyu whispers in your other ear.

“didn’t wanna make things weird,” you whine and you feel wonwoo chuckling against your skin. “wouldn’t have been weird considering we want you too,” wonwoo admits.

“yeah baby. both of us have been wanting you since you moved in,” mingyu continues, noticing the way your thighs tremble as you get closer to cumming.

it’s as if the two men had the same idea because they both reach down, gripping your wrist to stop your movements before wonwoo slowly pulls your dildo out.

you whine at the loss, feeling empty as you pout up at your roommates. “the only way you’re going to cum tonight is by us, not some piece of silicone,” wonwoo tosses your toy to the side.

wonwoo flips you onto your stomach, gripping your hips and pulling you up until you were on all fours while mingyu kneeled in front of you on your bed.

you paw at mingyu’s sweats, trying to tug them down and he just chuckles at your efforts before helping you.

“so wet already. were you thinking of us while you fucked yourself, princess?” wonwoo asks as he teased his tip against your folds, barely pushing inside you.

“well, she was definitely thinking of me. she moaned my name after all,” mingyu smirks as you run your tongue along his length. “is that so? only him? not me, princess?” wonwoo asks and you feel him moving away from you slightly.

“maybe gyu can take care of you tonight then. you don’t need my cock do you?” wonwoo teases and you whine around mingyu’s cock before pulling away.

“n-no- want you both,” you whimper. “such a needy slut. one cock’s not enough for you?” wonwoo asks, pushing into you in one thrust, making you moan around mingyu’s cock.

“be nice wonu, poor baby hasn’t been fucked in months,” mingyu says, thrusting softly into your mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat.

the contrast between the two made your head spin. mingyu was soft, praising you the entire time while wonwoo’s fingers dig into your hips, surely leaving marks.

“taking us so well, baby,” mingyu praises. “gonna let us fill you up? hm?” wonwoo asks, slamming into your harder as you just moan out a response.

“can’t talk, princess? have we fucked you dumb?” wonwoo continues, feeling his own orgasm creeping up.

wonwoo reaches around your thighs, bringing his hand down to your pussy to rub your sensitive nub. “i promised you I’d make you cum, didn’t i? come on princess, be a good slut and cum on my cock while you choke on gyu’s cock,” wonwoo urges you.

once you cum around him, it’s not long before you’re filled up with both of their cum, mingyu spilling down your throat while wonwoo’s floods your cunt.

you’re all panting, trying to catch your breath as the two boys pull out of you. you collapse on your bed, sweaty and sticky as you feel wonwoo’s cum dripping from your pussy.

mingyu pulls you up to lay against his chest, kissing your forehead and whispering soft praise to you as you come down from your high.

you hadn’t realized that your other roommate left for a second until you feel a warm towel wiping between your legs.

“did so good for us baby,” wonwoo praises softly as he cleaned you up. “took us so well. our pretty and perfect roomie,” mingyu adds.

once you’re all cleaned and dressed, mingyu suddenly remembers what they’d wanted to ask you in the first place once they got home.

“hey, you wanna have a roomie movie night with us?”

[agnireed]

Rainfall

summary 🏹 you've convinced yourself daryl hates you and that only increases when you have to go on a run together

word count 🏹 9.8k

warnings 🏹 large age gap, daryl and reader are embarrassingly bad at feelings, slow burn, slightly ooc side characters (maggie and beth)

thank you to @sparklytyphoondaze for the suggested prompt!

You had almost started to think you were going crazy right alongside the state of the world. 

There wasn’t any other person, before or after that fall, that could bring you to the level of confusion and anger that Daryl Dixon managed to without fail every time you were forced to speak to each other. It was made even worse by the fact you had no idea what about you got him so upset.

You contributed to the group whenever you were needed and then some, you had never once insulted him or even sent a mean look his way unprompted and there was certainly no stand out event that had seared this bitterness into his mind. 

It seemed like he just hated you for no reason at all and this drove you insane in a way that you wish it didn’t. You didn’t necessarily fall under the belief that everybody had to like you but it really rubbed you the wrong way that somebody had decided they didn’t just because of the way you were.

At first you had figured it had to do with your young age but he didn’t sneer at Beth the same way he did with you and nobody else seemed to agree with your assumption whenever you pried them for any known information. 

You certainly had too much time on your hands these days at the prison because you had gone full blown investigator mode to try and figure out what you had been doing so wrong.

Maybe you reminded him of somebody from his past that he had a hard time with or possibly he found annoyance in the fact you managed to carry your love for all things pink and cute over into the apocalypse with you. You felt ridiculous for actually taking this to heart and you frowned at yourself in the mirror when you pulled a particularly beige tank top over your head instead of your typical blush colored ones. 

Daryl wasn’t going out of his way to be mean to you or specifically targeting you when he didn’t have to but a slightly annoyed glance from the man was enough to rattle you for the rest of the day, for reasons you didn’t really understand.

You prided yourself on being pretty tough and there was a lot you could handle before you even felt a twinge of upset but not when it came to the stoney archer. 

He was easy enough to ignore but that was full blown impossible whenever it came to Rick allowing you to do anything the other group members did. He would scoff angrily under his breath and storm off when you were assigned to go on a run and you’d see them having heated discussions whenever you were put on gate duty for long shifts. 

It was clear to you that he didn’t find you capable of helping out and although he never outwardly said it you knew that he felt uneasy trusting the lives of the others in your hands, marking you as a liability even though you’d never so much as tripped on a run let alone endangered people you considered family. 

“Am I really that bad?” You would have felt ridiculous for being so whiny but you knew Beth and Maggie were used to you coming into a cell with this exact tone by now. You had seen the look they shared when you flopped down onto the bed with a groan and now your eyebrows furrowed as you sat back up to face them. “What was that look?”

The younger of the sisters fell silent and she looked almost like she was holding in a laugh as she watched the side of Maggie’s face and waited for her to say whatever it was they were silently communicating. 

“Nothing honey it’s just…” Her familiar light twang was doing very little to soothe your worry and annoyance and you leaned in closer as she took a second to pause and stifle a building laugh. “Are you wearing brown?”

You froze as you processed her words before glancing down at the shirt you had thrown on today and groaning at the same time Beth was finally letting out an actual laugh. The sight of you in anything this shade was certainly unfamiliar and clearly a big enough deal that it was all they could focus on right now, ignoring your question you had originally asked in favor of making fun of you. 

“I don’t think his issue with you is you being girly.” Beth had a voice that couldn’t sound anything but sweet even if she tried so you took her statement as genuine reassurance even if she was still attempting to tease you. 

The pair had long been subjected to your ramblings about the older man and every little biting remark or disinterested stare he sent your way and they were just as stumped as you. Although they provided no solution for your issue it was still comforting to know you weren’t making it up and other people had noticed his distaste for you.

You sulked back to your own cell only an hour or two after joining the sisters and listening to them ramble about their own problems and thoughts, commonly occurring sessions where you could all get some things off your chest. It was a nice dynamic and you often felt touched by how easily they had brought you into the fold of their sisterly bond. 

Everybody in the group felt the same to you, love and trust apparent between each of you and then all together as a whole. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for the people inside these walls and you felt no doubt in them doing whatever it would take for you in return if and when you needed it. 

There was only one exception to this feeling and you were growing more and more frustrated by his refusal to bond with you, even if it was surface level.

You didn’t think Daryl would leave you without water if you were dying of thirst but you figured if it was in a high tree he might just tell you it wasn’t worth the effort.

Your theory was most likely going to be tested in some shape because Rick was approaching you the next day to tell you in the most stern voice he could muster that you would be going on a run. You could tell from the look in his eye that he was telling you this way because a certain somebody would be tagging along but you expected that it was just going to be the two of you on your own.

“Ain’t happening.” Daryl seemed just as dejected as you did at the news but Rick had apparently given him alot less time to be upset about it considering the words flying from his mouth when he saw you and your leader approaching him on his bike, already loaded up and at the gate ready to go. 

You sighed at the realization you were a surprise guest, annoyance in your gut knowing this would only further his hatred towards you.

“Who would you prefer?” Rick was spitting back at him in a half whisper like it would save you from being able to hear. You were even more hurt at the way he phrased it, clearly letting you in on the fact they had had this conversation before. “The cars can’t get through, not on that route.”

“I can ride a bike.” You weren’t sure why you had tried to help out with the slightly useless piece of information, knowing neither of them would ever let you go by yourself on a run let alone with Daryl’s bike. If either of them seemed surprised by the fact then they didn’t show it but his sneer turned to you faster than you could retract your suggestion. 

“Like hell you will.” He said it so harshly that you were almost taken back by it. He was never kind to you but it certainly hadn’t gotten to this point in quite some time and your eyes flashed with surprise as you took a few steps backwards so you were further behind Rick.

He watched you for a breath or two after that and you almost thought you saw regret passing over his face even though it was gone as quickly as it came once he faced Rick again. You were pushing yourself further back with another sigh so they could quickly have their biting conversation and get it over with. 

You’d already done the checklist in your head and realized there truly was nobody else who could both be on the back of his bike and also perform well in a run and it was only a matter of time before he understood that too. He was an asshole but he wasn’t unreasonable and you knew he wouldn’t completely abandon a run just because he didn’t want you coming along.

Your theory proved correct because soon enough you were settling yourself on the seat behind him and smiling tightly at Rick when he placed a hand on your arm, silently wishing you good luck with a firm nod.

You did your best to ignore his grumbles for you to hold on and luckily you had grown up on a bike and weren’t saying that for no reason so it was easy enough to sit still and not disturb him. There was a deeper bratty part of you that wanted to softly rock side to side just enough to get his attention and annoy him but you decided against it.

If he was going to dislike you then you wanted it to be a complete reflection of his poor character and nothing to do with you.

He was surprisingly docile for most of the long ride and even let you take a break on the side of the road midway through so you could both stretch your legs and avoid cramping up by the time you got there and actually had to be on high alert. 

“It’s a nice bike.” You felt stupid for speaking as soon as you heard the sound of your own voice and saw his head snapping up to look at you.

He was crouching down near it like he was investigating an issue but you knew he was just pretending to be busy to avoid the awkward silence or having to talk to you, two things that were currently happening thanks to your lack of impulse control.

“Sorry.” You were sighing and awkwardly looking away from him, taking a few steps closer to the tree line because how uneasy his strong gaze was making you feel. A rush of embarrassment overtook you and you strangely felt like you were going to tear up for some reason, pushing some loose rocks with your foot and glancing down the road. 

“S’all good.” He was finally responding and your eyes widened in surprise, glad to see he had looked away again just in time and didn’t see your reaction. “Was my brothers.”

“I remember.” Your voice was soft because you had actually known where the bike came from just from hearing him mention it a handful of times and you also knew enough to know why he tensed at the reminder that you had actually met his brother.

Daryl hadn’t been as docile then in his anger both towards you and everybody else and it felt like you got left behind with Merle on that rooftop when he decided to let down some of his walls and start trusting people. You weren’t a part of that equation which confused you even more now that you started to recall the earliest days of your meeting.

You had been pretty much the sole target of Merle’s disgusting rants about the women in the camp, making comments in passing about the others but really locking in on you whenever you were in his line of sight. He switched between degrading you and your ability to keep up with him and the men with you to just as quickly cat calling you and encouraging you to join him in camp.

There was a quickly built resentment towards him and his brother but the latter faded when you would catch Daryl defending you when he assumed you were out of earshot, at least the best he could without enraging his brother. 

He would tell him to leave you alone when he noticed his brother's hazy eyes zoning in on you like he wanted to approach or make a quick comment about how you were too young for him to be perving on you. All mild attempts to derail Merle’s small attention span but you appreciated the effort considering it was much more than the other men around camp would do and they didn’t have a reason to be cautious of the wild man like Daryl did.

That had all changed when Rick showed up and you felt a surge of hope as soon as you heard him addressing the group for the first time, solid and sturdy in his words even when he was allowing Shane to still bark the orders and have control.

You knew from the first day that you finally had somebody to take lead over your dire situation and you knew men like Merle Dixon would never bother you again.

No part of you thought Daryl was similar to his brother in any way but you still felt the same hurt regardless if it was intentional from his end. 

“C’mon.” He wasn’t giving you a response to what you had said and you were glad he hadn’t, much preferring the loud hum of the bike to help quiet your endless thoughts. 

This time he didn’t completely tense up when you were circling your hands around his waist and you were weirdly finding some comfort knowing he was with you when you thought back on those days at the quarry. Was there a different world where Daryl didn’t dislike you and kept up the protective streak he’d shown back then or was that sincerely a complete one off?

You wondered if it would be weird to ask him directly about what you had done to upset him, both bringing it to reality for the first time and also exposing yourself for caring way more than you should about what he thought.

It might have been an age thing that led you to not only not wanting to disappoint him but you found yourself actively wanting to impress him and catch his attention. Even an interested gaze rather than an annoyed one would probably make your day at this point and you found yourself ridiculous for the tenth time since you left the prison just a few hours ago.

There was the same urge in you when it came to Rick and Hershel, even Glenn occasionally although you looked towards him more as a brother while the latter two reminded you of that fatherly connection you’d always seeked out.

You felt warmed whenever Hershel checked in on you and softly told you to take better care of your health and you’d do just about anything Rick asked of you as long as it meant he was proud of you and felt you were a good addition to the group.

Your nose scrunched up at the thought of thinking towards Daryl in any type of fatherly way and you quickly scratched that idea off your endless boards of guesses.

Luckily he was pulling to a stop before you could jot down anything else in your mental notebook and you glanced around your surroundings for just a second before you were bracing your hands on his shoulders and swinging your leg over his bike, landing flat on your feet with a little groan.

The muscles in your thighs were tight from the stretch and constant tensing to brace yourself around turns and debris in the road and you imagine he was feeling a similar pain judging by the face he made when he roughly kicked the stand down to steady the bike.

You silently watched him as he covered it in light shrubbery, opting to stay out of his way and let him do whatever it was he felt like he needed. It was always simpler to wait for him to tell you what to do instead of doing it on your own and dealing with him getting angry and correcting you. 

He whistled lowly and started to walk away from you and you took the wordless cue easily, following behind with a hand on your knife holster and your eyes sharp to your surroundings. 

There was no amount of huffing and puffing from him that would make you think you were a liability out in nature. You didn’t have as quick of reflexes as he did and there was no way you’d ever catch up in terms of survival skills but you were good at handling yourself and extremely light on your feet.

Luckily there was a lack of complaints from him today as the two of you approached the small strip mall quietly and fast, half crouched in a way that made your knees ache as you followed behind him. 

He stopped too abruptly behind an abandoned car for you to notice and you bumped into his back, immediteyly reaching out in an attempt to steady him and he turned his head to glare at you over his shoulder. The walker growls in the distant stopped you from verbally apologizing but you hoped he could see it in your eyes.

That must have annoyed him enough that he decided you shouldn’t be behind him and out of sight, shaking your hands off of him before taking a few low steps back and nudging you forward.

You sighed at his clear lack of forgiveness but focused on the task at hand and made sure the area was clear before moving forward and finally reaching the buildings. You could see one of the windows were busted as you pushed yourself against the wall and you glanced at him once he reached you.

He was as close to you as he ever probably had been and you took a few seconds to watch the way his built chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths, shoulders pressed to yours and face blank as he glanced at you.

“Walkers.” You more mouthed the words than actually spoke and his gaze dropped to your lips.

You felt incredibly stupid and thrown off when you felt a heat rising to your cheeks at the action. You knew he was simply trying to read you lips and not looking at you for any other reason but your brain apparently decided today that you enjoyed the idea of him looking at you like that. 

It was probably the worst possible moment to be hit with the fact that you wanted him to think about you in that way, your entire body freezing up when you pieced together why exactly you yearned for his approval. It certainly wasnt fatherly at all because you apparently had a crush on Daryl Dixon.

“What the hell are you doing?” His raspy voice hissing at you defiantelty wasnt helping you in your moment of understanding but your eyes widened realizing he had been trying to tell you something while you were frozen. “C’mon girl, move.”

You were quick to nod your head to show him you processed the demand and then he was gone, turning the corner and pushing his way into the building. He must have had a good idea of how many walkers were inside and you werent sure if that was something he had figured out silently or if that was another piece of dialogue you had msised in your dilemma.

He didnt seem at all bothered while taking the three still up and walking around out and you watched him silently, not daring to get in the way when he was swinging his crossbow around and taking off heads. He was still breathing heavily when he turned to check on your whereabouts and this time you could see some anger beneath the exhaustion. 

The flush still on your cheeks was now being partnered with a heat in your gut and you realized just how fucked you actually were.

When had this happened and why did it take you so long to realize what this actually was? How did you manage to delude yourself into thinking it was normal that you were hanging off his every word and going over your small interactions dozens of times.

You’d even thrown on this hideously colored shirt thinking he might like it better than your normal wardrobe and you’d actually been upset when he hadn’t glanced twice at it earlier.

He was furrowing his eyebrows and you assumed he was half a second before asking you what the hell you were staring at but he didnt get a chance considering his eyes were darting over your shoulder with a look of panic that let you know exactly what he saw.

You didn’t even hear the growl of the walker behind you before you were gripping the handle of your knife and attempting to spin around but it was already too late and it was taking you to the ground so hard your head smacked against the old wood and your knife was being thrown somewhere too far for you to reach.

“Daryl.” Your voice was a high pitched screech as you desperately shot one hand out to attempt to grip anything that would allow you to kill the raging walker while your other one was pressed tightly around its shoulder to try and keep its clamping jaw away from your face.

It was so close you could hear the moisture in its mouth and feel its breath on your cheek, a whimper leaving you as you felt its hands on your body trying to find any soft bit of flesh to grip its claw into. 

The walker was falling limb ontop of you and although only a few seconds had passed since youd fallen, it felt like an hour of struggling with its strength and your entire life flashing before your eyes. You’d been in close call situations before but never something like this and you knew you would’ve been dead if Daryl hadn’t been here or even in the same room.

You were breathing heavily and shame hit you at the same time a heavy sob did, fully processing what almost just happened because you hadnt been paying attention to your surroundings. 

“Fuck.” Your voice was pained with a groan as you tried to life the waker off of you but it was large in size, possibly taller than Daryl and without a doubt heavier. It was lifted off of you as soon as you started to struggle and you were only half surprised to see his face looking down at you as he easily removed it.

For once he didn’t look cold or emotionless as he looked at you, a similar panic on his face as he crouched down beside you and scanned over your neck and face for any sign of a bite. 

You were about to reassure him that you hadn’t been bit but he was cutting you off by pushing your shirt halfway up your stomach, revealing so much bare skin that you felt almost shy even though you knew he was just checking you for scratches once he realized where the walker had its hands.

He didn’t dare touch your exposed stomach but his gaze was heated as he looked around your heaving ribs, pausing when he saw small pink marks on your waist.

“It’s okay right?” You sounded panicked as you sat up slightly to inspect it with him, your hand smoothing over the discoloration and feeling only a bit relieved when you didnt feel any signs of it being indented. “He just grabbed me tightly but he didn’t scratch.”

“Let’s go.” His voice was low and cold and he was standing halfway before gripping your forearm and tugging you up with him, starting to drag you towards the door.

You were frowning and shaking your head, looking back at your abandoned knife on the floor and placing a hand on the doorframe to stop him from pulling you. You knew he still easily could have removed you if he wanted but you both understood there was no way to get back on a motorcycle with an unwillingly particpant. 

It wasn’t as simple as throwing you in a car and shutting the door and your other hand came up to grab his wrist.

“We can’t leave.” Your voice was more pleading than argumentative, wanting him to see you were still willing and eager to follow his directions if it meant staying. “We haven’t even looked around yet. Theyre counting on us.”

“Nah. I’ll circle back tomorrow with Maggie.” He was steely in his answer and didn’t even seem to process what you were trying to tell him. He had clearly made up his mind and your eyes were desperate as you stared at him.

“I’m sorry for not paying attention.” It was your second time apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault and this seem to strike a particular nerve with him because he was fully turning towards you and letting go of your arm so he could point at you angrily. 

“You almost died, we’re leaving.” He was making a move for the door again and a wave of panic went through you, halfway thinking he might leave you there if you didn’t join him. He was leaving no room for argument and the look he gave you when you grabbed his shoulder made ice shoot through your veins.

He didn’t seem to understand why you couldn’t bare just leaving and going back to the prison empty handed. Did he not realize that there was nothing you feared more than disappointing your group members, not even a walker practically breathing down your throat could rattle you the way that could. 

His shoulders lost some of the tension when he saw the look on your face and you suddenly wanted to shout at him and ask him what his problem was, demand he tell you why he had been so endlessly cruel to you for so long. 

But now you were wondering if he actually had been or if you were simply throwing an internal fit because he didn’t give you an overt amount of attention, doubting your own reality now that you had fully accepted that you might have a stupid crush on the older man.

You had fresh tears joining your dried streaks now, cutting through the dirt on your face almost comically and he was biting the inside of his cheek like he couldn’t figure out how to comfort you right now or atleast make you stop crying.

Finally he was sighing and nodding his head so quick you almost missed it, pushing past you so he could venture further into the shop and silently let you know that you were getting what you wanted and continuing the run.

You made sure to push down any thoughts of him for the rest of the trip so you could focus on getting what you needed without endangering yourself again and you actually managed to get quite a big chunk of the stuff on the necessity list, even grabbing some extra fun things for Carl and a top you thought Beth might like. 

An hour or so had passed when Daryl made his way back to you and you could feel him watching you as you rifled through the clothing rack, not turning to face him and instead letting him approach you for once. 

“Suits you.” His light tone shocked you enough that you let go of the pink sleeve you were inspecting on the hanger. You had expected him to make a snide comment about you wasting time looking at clothes instead of finding something useful but apparently he had run out of the energy to argue with you.

“Because its childish?” You had humor in your voice with your response but it wasnt genuine, more so trying to deliver the punch line before he could. 

“Nah, just suits you.” He didn’t play into your accidental bait and you narrowed your eyes at him before sighing and pulling the pink sweater off the rack, dusting it off before dragging it over your head and the brown shirt you were wearing.

You figured you looked a bit puffy with the double layering and it was far too hot for the thick fabric but you held your hands out like you were presenting the outfit to him and although he didnt laugh, you thought you heard him lightly scoff at your display.

 

You finished stuffing your gifts for the others into your already full bag before joining him as he moved further into the large building, side by side as you followed the range of his flashlight with your eyes. 

“Why’re you wearing that shit anways?” He surpised you by still trying to make conversation and you starting to wonder if he had been the one to hit his head earlier, glancing at him just to find he was already watching you from the corner of his eye.

At first you thought he meant the sweater but you realized he meant your original outfit, heat once again rising to your cheeks when you pieced together that he had actually noticed your change in color scheme. 

You weren’t exactly sure how to explain that you had done it to appear more mature for him without making a complete fool of yourself so you opted for shrugging your shoulders and remaining silent, letting him figure it out for himself like you so often had to.

“Someone say something to you?” He paused in his stride and you turned back to look at him in confusion, furthering when you saw the twitch in his jaw and that same cold look in his eyes. This time it didn’t seem directed at you but that didn’t help you figure out the situation in the slightest. 

“Like what?” Your voice was still soft and almost a whisper, like you were guiding to him towards actually giving you an answer to something for once. Your head slightly titled and the movement made him take another step back for some reason, almost like he was afraid of you. “Like how I dress like a toddler? Or maybe something about being a walking signal for walkers?”

It almost took him a few seconds into your sentences to realize you were repeating back to him things he had said before, quick comments made in fits of anger that he clearly hadn’t thought you’d take to heart let alone remember word for word. You scoffed at his taken back reaction and nodded your head bitterly, tightening your grip on your backpack strap and moving towards the exit.

If he was bothered by you leaving him behind in the dark building then he didn’t show it on his face but you felt regret for doing it as soon as you were outside by yourself, standing next to his bike impatiently and waiting for him to join you. 

Thunder cracked in the distance as soon as his foot hit the dirt and both of you paused to look at eachother, dread growing in you knowing what he was thinking before he even had to say it.

You were groaning loudly and lugging your stuff back inside, bumping his shoulder on your way in. You both knew you wouldn’t be able to ride home that long with a storm coming so you had no choice but to spend the night in the same building you had nearly died in a few hours prior with a man who wanted nothing to do with you.

He was outside for atleast thirty minutes and you figured he was hiding his bike somewhere more secure or possibly checking the perimeter now that you were going to be letting your guards down a bit to get some rest.

You could hear rain drops hitting the windows before he came back inside and although they were light, you knew he must be getting damp out there. You sighed as you made your way to the clothing racks to find him something to dry to wear, telling yourself you were only doing the kind gesture because you were restless.

“Y/N?” His voice was loud and panicked when he closed the door behind him, not seeing you anywhere near the entrance and finding your bag left behind on the floor. “Damn it.”

Your eyes rolled when he initally called your name and you almost planned to ignore him but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to be unnecessarily rude so you gathered the clothes and headed back towards the front.

His body relaxed slightly when he saw you coming out of the dark but he froze again when his gaze dropped down to the fabric in your hands, watching you as you got so close your boots touched before you were pushing it against his wet chest and raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll catch a cold playing in the rain like that.” You let your tone be slightly mocking but it was lighthearted enough that he wouldn’t bother taking offense at you making fun of him for staying outside. He mumbled a thank you but didn’t stop staring down at you.

You wondered if he was slightly flattered by you doing such a domestic act for him or if he didn’t care at all, deciding on the former so you could let yourself have atleast one small win after such a rough day. You cleared your throat before turning around and allowing him some privacy while changing. 

Picking up on him moving a few more feet away, you entire body was still flushing when you heard the telltale signs of him changing clothes. 

There was a large part of you that tried to squeeze your eyes closed and think of something totally unrelated but the smaller portion won by a landslide and you let yourself think about what he might look like without clothes on. 

You were no stranger to the sight of his arms, large and rippling with muscle everytime he drew his crossbow or swung his knife. You knew he was older and more mature than boys you had been with before the fall, most likely with hair trailing down his stomach where they had been smooth and rounder around the sections of his ribs.

Your fidgeting was extremely apparent to anybody in the room and you were unlucky enough that it was just the two of you.

In no time Daryl was mumbling that you were good to turn around and moving to start a small enough fire that it wouldn’t reach the high ceiling and could be ventilated through the broken windows. You ignored the sight of his messy and damp hair falling into his eyes and especially forgot about how much your chest heaved at the way he looked in the clothes you’d picked for him.

It wasn’t much different from what he would usually wear, you had made sure of that so he wouldn’t reject your gesture but you simply found it notable that it was something you had picked for him. 

A few more hours were passing of you sitting in silence and listening to the rain outside for any sign of it stopping, grateful when he finally sighed and pulled out the little food you had packed, seemingly accepting your fate of staying overnight. 

The sun had long set by the time he was clearing his throat like he was going to finally say something and your eyes met his across the fire, holding the gaze tightly so he didn’t change his mind.

“Sorry about before.” He shocked you even more with the words coming from his mouth and your eyebrows raised, your arms wrapped around your knees where you’d been resting your head before he spoke. 

You weren’t sure what exactly he was trying to apologize for, the list of possible offenses longer than you think he even realized. You imagined it was between trying to make you abandon the run and you bringing up what he had said about the way you dressed, maybe a mix of both so he could kill two awkward birds with one big hesitant stone like apology. 

“It’s all good.” You were shrugging and you wondered if he at all cared that you had lost your usual friendly tone in favor of mimicking his cold and emotionless one. “Kinda my fault anyways, always trying to get your attention.”

You don’t know why you said it and you were even more confused why you didn’t immediately want to take it back. Maybe saying it out loud could make you feel better but you imagined you’d be wishing you saved it for a kinder audience like Maggie and Beth whenever he responded to you. 

Braving a look in his direction, you softly laughed seeing the confusion on his face. He almost looked a bit hurt and guarded like he thought you might be making fun of him which you didn’t fully understand why he would go to that conclusion.

“You don’t have to pretend you didn’t notice Daryl.” You were smiling softly now and although you were mostly baiting him, the pink on your cheeks was still very much real.

Truthfully, you hadn’t assumed that he had caught onto your crush on him because you barely had until now and Daryl didn’t seem to be the type of man that went around guessing when people liked him. 

Infact he seemed the most thrown off guard you’d ever seen him when he realized what you were trying to say and the red on his cheeks was almost enough to rival yours. You coughed just to fill the silence when you accepted he wasn’t planning to respond to you and you tried to ignore the deafening sounds of his shifting in place. 

The two of you stayed silent until the fire started to die out and by then you were laying on your back, staring up on the ceiling and bringing you could feel to rain falling down on you. It was heavy by now and you figured the storm was directly above you at this point, almost thankful for the thunder and lightning as it masked the sounds of Daryl’s light breathing.

He was laying down too and despite him being on the other side of the fire, it still managed to feel strangely intimate. 

It was likely that he was closer lying in the cell next to yours on the nights he decided it was better than the perch but now there was no stone wall between you and you could see the outline of his face whenever you turned your head to see if he had fallen asleep yet. 

The darkness was making it hard to see from that distance but the light of the fire was just visible enough for you to catch the fact he was glancing over at you too and you quickly looked away. You were firm in your stare at the ceiling now and you hoped the feeling of his eyes on you still was just your imagination. 

“I like the pink.” His voice was breaking through the silence but not loud enough to be completely jarring, low and whispered like he didn’t want to disturb you with the confession. Maybe he didn’t want you to hear him at all. “Meant it, it suits you.”

“You don’t think I look ridiculous?” You were teasing him now and it was obvious, your voice light and gentle again. 

“Nah, never did. Just an asshole.” His flat voice made you snort a laugh and you could have sworn you heard him chuckling in return. You stayed quiet for a bit longer and tried to find a way to not place meaning behind what he was telling you. 

It could be as simple as him not wanting any bad blood between the two of you considering you had to live together for most likely the rest of your lives, regardless if that was days or years. Or maybe he had felt bad about hurting your feelings because Daryl certainly wasn’t cruel for no reason and you knew he had a better heart than most, even if it took seeing you reduced to tears to finally apologize.

“I almost died today.” Your voice was still soft but for different reasons now and you turned to look at him again, wincing when you noticed he’d gone rigid. He was resting his head on one of his arms and the other was palm down on his stomach, moving lightly with every breath he took. “After all this time I think I forgot that I could. Maybe it’s good to get a reminder.”

He didn’t say anything for a while again and you almost wanted to sigh even though you just knew it was in his nature to not speak much. You actually liked that about him on any other day, he was easy to read when he wanted to be and he wore his emotions on his sleeve if you paid enough attention which apparently you did. 

“Not gonna let that happen.” Sometimes he said things that made you wish he wouldn’t speak because you werent sure how you were supposed to take him saying something like that. You had practically spelled out the fact you liked him a few hours ago and now he was declaring to personally keep you alive. 

“You cant know that.” You had decided to sit up before you finished speaking, wanting to feel more in control of the conversation even if it meant being able to see him more clearly now that you could easily see him over the fire. 

“Be alot easier if you stayed at the damn prison.” He sounded annoyed again but you could tell it wasn’t actually directed at you in a meaningful way. 

“Is that why you keep telling Rick I shouldn’t go on runs?” You hadnt even realized you came to that conclusion until you were asking it and you suddenly felt very stupid for thinking that he had been doubting your survival skills all this time. Although it wasnt solely your fault because you wouldve agreed alot easier to stay back if you knew he was simply worried about you. “Why didnt you tell me that?”

He scoffed like your question was ridiculous and now it was your turn to be annoyed with him. You were standing from your spot on the floor and moving over to him, sitting beside where he was still laying flat. This was probably the closest youd ever been to him intentionally not to mention this most likely being your longest conversation to date but he was finally giving you some answers now. 

“Wouldn’t matter anyways now would it. Too damn stubborn.” He sounded completely bored by your conversation and your mouth dropped at him vaguely confirming that he had been trying to keep you back to protect you. 

“I thought you hated me.” You practically squeaked it out and suddenly he seemed alot more alert, turning his head to look at you fully and clearly trying not to pay attention to how close you were sitting. 

You were on your knees next to him and your hands slapped down onto your thighs dramatically with an almost manic laugh as your entire point of view shifted. 

“Why would I hate you?” He asked it like the thought genuinely hadnt crossed his mind and you could have screamed in frustration. 

“Then why-” You thought of all of his heated glances and the way he avoided touch from you specifically, teasing remarks about the smallest details of how you dressed and now the added fact that he hadn’t wanted you to face the dangers of going on runs especially ones he wasn’t going on. “Oh my god, you have a crush on me.”

You should have felt ridiculous for the way you were practically gleaming with realization as you pointed at him like you had cracked open a decade long cold case. He raised an eyebrow at you and your theatrics before he was scoffing and looking back up at the roof like the conversation wasn’t making his heart race. 

“Ain’t got a crush.” He felt almost shy saying the word and thankfully you were close enough to see the way his flush had returned tenfold and the fidgeting of his hands against the vest he’d thrown back over the shirt you picked for him.

“But you like me?” You were overdoing it now but you felt almost drunk with giddiness now that you knew he hadn’t been icing you out all along. Daryl was simply just shy and clearly terrible at showcasing when he had feelings for somebody but you almost couldn’t blame him considering you’d nearly died seconds after realizing it for yourself. “You think I’m totally cute.”

Now you were really pushing it and he brought his gaze back to you just to make sure you could see the exasperation in his expression although now you were so high on the accidental confession you were tricking yourself into thinking he looked fondly amused.

“I’ve spent all this time thinking you hated me, why didn’t you just-” You were just starting to question his lack of forwardness but you silently answered it for yourself before you even finished. “Oh.”

You’d somehow manage to forget that there was easily twenty years between you and Daryl, if not more than that (you didn’t think now was a good time to ask him exactly how old he was). He looked almost sheepish now that you seemed to recall this obvious fact and you could tell he had thought about it alot more than you had.

A quietness took over the room again and you halfway noted that it sounded like the rain had finally started to slow to a stop. You were shifting in place and adjusting yourself in a way that you could more comfortably lean forward to practically force him to look at you.

“I don’t think it matters.” You were whispering now like somebody was going to overhear you and now his glare actually had some real heat behind it.

“Like hell it don’t.” He sounded frustrated that you were even talking about it let alone attempting to pretend it wasn’t an issue.

Now you were truly curious how long he had been thinking about this and it suddenly made alot more sense to you why he constantly seemed to be avoiding you. Not out of anger towards you but possibly towards the fact there was no world in which he could be with you in that way.

“I wouldn’t tell anybody.” You immediately regretting saying it as soon as you saw the way he froze up, the words being whispered into the air painting a much different tone than you had originally intended. 

It made it sound like it was some dirty secret you would need to keep due to how wrong it was but you had meant it genuinely, wanting him to know you’d be okay with taking your time letting the others know until it was something even worth noting. 

Now you truly felt like you’d gone crazy because what were you even talking about here? Did he have real feelings for you or was it just basic lust for a younger girl wandering around in pink tanktops, did it even matter regardless considering how disgusted he seemed now?

He was sitting up with a grunt and rising to his feet, giving you one last glare before he was storming outside with a mumble about needing a smoke. You stayed there on the floor staring at where his body had just been and a wave of shame washed over you.

You tried to calm yourself by thinking that you could fix it once he came back inside and relaxed a little, giving you a second to explain what you meant and what you had been thinking. You didn’t want him to see you as some stupid little girl that couldn’t keep her mouth shut. 

Daryl took this plan and crushed it considering he didn’t ever come back in and you laid there staring at the body of the walker who had almost killed you earlier, watching it until you managed to fade off into a nearly restless sleep while he sat outside and counted down the minutes until you could leave.

----

The next morning couldn’t have been more awkward if you tried.

You’d practically thrown yourself outside when you had waken up and didn’t see him still, stumbling onto the dirt with your eyes wide with panic. You looked towards the bush where his bike had been and felt your throat tighten at the realization he had actually left you there.

Then you heard shuffling behind you and whipped around to see him watching you from the treeline, half concerned and half blank like he couldn’t decide which side of him to show you now. 

Your half awake brain slowly remembered that he had moved his bike before the storm last night and you could tell by the line of something furry over his shoulder that he had been out hunting before you started to head home. 

You could guess by where the sun sat in the sky that he had actually let you sleep in a bit and suddenly you were itching to get back to the prison, hand to your forehead as you made your way back in silently to gather your stuff and head back out. 

You felt embarrassed that he had seen you so distressed over the thought of being left alone but you figured you were way past the point of return with the amount of humiliating things that had happened in the last 24 hours so it didn’t really matter. 

There was no overestimating how bad it felt to climb onto the back of his bike and wrap your arms around him for endless hours while also knowing he most likely wanted to be as far away from you as possible right now.

The sight of the prison would normally leave a slight distaste in your mouth but right now it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and it only got better when you saw a familiar head of blonde hair near the gates, clearly hearing the sounds of the bike and waiting for your arrival.

You felt a rush of emotion seeing your friend and you were rushing off the bike before he even had time to steady himself, meeting her halfway in a hug and trying to ignore how weird your reaction seemed to anybody else. You had only been gone a night but it felt like an entire year had passed in that building. 

She was quick to make small talk as you headed in together and you were grateful for the distraction, glancing behind your shoulder back at him only to look away quickly when you found him already looking. 

It wasn’t until you were hidden behind the walls of your cell that you let the frown take over your expression and Beth faltered in her ramblings, watching your shoulders slump as you threw your bag carelessly in the corner. 

“Oh honey. I know that expression.” You hadn’t even realized Maggie was standing in the entryway of your cell until you heard her warm voice full of concern and pity. Beth sent her a curious glance and she sighed softly. “She’s heartbroken.”

“You told him?�� Beth gasped the words loudly and both you and Maggie rushed to shush her, your hands covering her mouth while her sister moved fully into the cell like the sheet covering the doorway behind her would at all mask the sound of your gossip.

“You knew?” You were already frustrated and it was obvious in your tone, looking between the two of them with an accusatory glare that they matched with confusion. “You both knew this entire time?”

“You didn’t?” Maggie seemed genuinely perplexed by what you were saying and you suddenly were hit with how crazy you must have sounded.

You had spend the better part of the last few months ranting to them about every little interaction with the man and it was apparently clear to everybody but yourself and Daryl that you had feelings for him. 

There was a brief silence before you were delving into what had happened and doing your best to not leave out any details so you could get their opinions and advice on where to go from here. Beth cringed when you got to the part about not telling anybody and Maggie rolled her eyes when you mentioned Daryl had slept outside to avoid having to talk to you again.

“Is it really that bad?” Beth seemed almost bashful to ask the question and you both knew what she was talking about. 

You weren’t really sure how to answer her because although young, you were still very much an adult and capable of making your own decisions but you also wouldn’t be able to fully blame somebody who found you and Daryl together to be distasteful. Beth was still a few years younger than you and you had a hard time picturing her with anybody that age when she was closer to you and Maggie’s maturity.

“You’re a grown woman Y/N.” Maggie seemed to have come to a similar conclusion as you had or maybe she just wanted to encourage her friend towards something she knew would make her happy. “Least he could do is talk to you.”

That seemed to light a new found fire in you and after a few more words of encouragement you were storming off to go and find Daryl.

It took a fair bit of time to track him down but eventually you were led back to the maintenance room in the newly cleared portion of the prison, heart beating faster as you walked through the dimly lit hallways. You felt relieved when you could hear his voice coming from one of the rooms but then annoyance surge through you again.

“I’m a grown ass woman.” You were sure you looked ridiculous as you pushed through the door and looked at him angrily, pointing a finger in his direction and feeling slightly smug when you saw how caught off guard he looked for once. 

Then his eyes were trailing behind you and for a second you were reminded of the way he had looked before the walker attacked, spinning around just to see Rick and Glenn staring at you like you had grown two heads. Theyd never seen you so amped up before and the latter looked like he almost wanted to laugh. 

You were sure Maggie had filled him in to some extent about your situation with Daryl and your neck felt hot with embarrassment, something that was happening far too often for your liking.

“Sorry.” You felt sheepish as you glanced at Rick who looked half disapproving and half amused. “Can I talk to Daryl?”

Now he had something else passing over his face but you weren’t really sure what to make of it, even more confused when they locked eyes over your shoulder before Rick was raising an eyebrow and giving a slow nod. He barely looked at you as they left and you couldn’t tell if that made you feel better or worse. 

You were turning back towards the source of your anger but now all of your fight had been lost and all you could do was sigh as you looked at him.

“Can you atleast talk to me?” You found yourself simply repeating exactly what Maggie had told you and you felt prematurely defeated when you saw the closed off look in his eye.

“Ain’t nothing to talk about.” He was quick to dismiss you completely and you were thankful you were standing between him and the door because it looked like he was seconds from running away just to avoid you again. 

“There is Daryl and you know there is.” You didn’t care that you sounded desperate as you called his name and his eyes bore harder into yours when he heard it falling from your lips, only watching you as you took a few steps closer to him. “What’s so wrong about you liking me?”

He wasn’t going to say it, place a name to exactly what the problem would be because he knew you were already aware. You could tell he was growing frustrated that you kept pushing him about it especially when he clearly had done a good job at ignoring it although that included making you feel like shit.

“Liking eachother.” You changed your wording around to make sure you included yourself this time, wanting to remind him the feeling was mutual. 

You weren’t sure if it had the affect you wanted but you were taking a few more hesitant steps forward like you were approaching a wild animal, stopping when you were close enough to be able to put your hand on his chest.

It was the first time you were touching him like that without needing a real reason to and he seemed more affected than you’d seen him be yet, breath noticeably shorting as his eyes started to frantically dart around your face.

You wished so desperately you were able to read his mind and question what it was that was holding him back so much, especially when you were out of sight from everybody else and the judgement they possibly could cast onto you.

 

Apparently you weren’t subtle and the look Rick had given him earlier almost seemed like he had been as aware of your situation as Maggie was and there was no public outcry, no pulling you away and scolding you for having your hand on his chest and your eyes moving from his lips to his eyes. 

For a second it felt like the volume had been turned off in the room until he was finally moving his gaze down too and suddenly it all came rushing back, able to hear your own heartbeat mixing with his and the pace of his breathing slowing down. 

It wasn’t until he kissed you that the sound died out again, filled in by the rush in your heart and raindrops in the distance.

[punkshort]

Palm Trees

Thank you @itsafullmoon for this prompt!

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Sometimes love can be found unexpectedly in the aisle of Home Depot's Christmas displays.

Warnings: language, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of OC deaths, sexual tension, flirting

WC: 3.6K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel smiled as he watched Sarah skip down the aisles of Home Depot, him trailing behind pushing an orange cart that already was half filled with way too many boxes of Christmas lights, two light up penguins, and an inflatable Santa.

Christmas was never this thing, but he tried to make it special for Sarah. Her mother had always been the one to go the whole nine yards for the holiday while Joel kicked back and watched his girls have a blast decorating the house. Every year they participated in the Christmas lights competition their small town just outside of Austin, Texas held, and every year they lost. But it never really mattered because they had so much fun putting everything together and brainstorming on Thanksgiving what they thought would give them a competitive edge.

When his wife passed away four years ago, they stopped participating in the competition. It never felt right, and neither of them wanted to do it. But that year on Thanksgiving, much to Joel's surprise, Sarah turned to him out of the blue and said, we should do a penguin slip and slide on the lawn this year.

Tommy and Maria fell silent, eyes darting between Joel and his daughter while they waited for his response. Once he collected himself, he said, what about Santa in a hot tub?

Thus, the idea was born: Christmas on the beach. They still had plenty of supplies from years before, but he let Sarah plan the whole thing. If she wanted new things to put on the lawn, he would gladly pay for them just to see that huge smile on her face when she looked at him over her shoulder as she skipped down the aisle.

Given their beach theme, one thing they definitely needed and didn't already own was a light up palm tree, one which Sarah scouted out online and informed Joel it was the only home improvement store that had them in stock. He wanted to tease her and remind her that of course palm trees weren't popular to keep on the shelf at Christmas time, but she was so excited he just shook his head and grabbed his keys.

"Alright, it's gotta be here, it says it's in aisle 17A," Sarah said when she slowed down, scanning the huge light-up displays. Joel sighed and looked around, gaze drifting over presents, reindeer and wreathes until he heard Sarah gasp softly. He slid to a stop and whipped his head in her direction. She was standing in the middle of the aisle, crestfallen, as she watched a young woman lift the very last palm tree into her cart.

"Oh, no," she whispered, and Joel's heart broke when he heard the despair in her voice. He couldn't stand to see Sarah that way after she had been so excited for Christmas for the first time since the loss of her mother, so he did something he never thought he would do. He abandoned the cart with Sarah, instructing her to stay right there, and hurried down the aisle towards you.

"Hey, uh, excuse me?"

You looked up in surprise, then glanced over your shoulder to make sure he was actually addressing you, before meeting his eye again.

"Yes?"

Joel came to a stop in front of your cart and lowered his voice.

"I have a favor to ask," he began. When he saw the defensive look on your face, he quickly shook his head. "Sorry, wait. See the little girl behind me? With the cart?"

Your eyes flicked over his shoulder quickly, spotting the curly haired pre-teen, then nodded.

"Well, it sounds ridiculous but she's got her heart set on that damn palm tree, and-" Joel looked at the shelf to confirm before giving you his attention again. "You got the last one. You think I can buy it from you?"

You blinked in surprise, your eyes slowly sliding between him and the boxed palm tree in your cart, then bit your lip.

"Well..."

"Please," he begged before pulling out his wallet. "Whatever you want. I don't wanna make you feel bad, but we lost my wife a few years back. Lightin' up the house for that damn competition was somethin' she always did with her mom. This is the first year she's been excited for it and I don't wanna let her down."

Your shoulders sagged in defeat and you turned to your cart.

"That's okay, you can take it. You don't need to pay me," you told him, stepping aside so he could grab the box. But Joel shook his head.

"No, please, lemme give you somethin' for it."

You smiled sadly and waved him off.

"I don't want your money. Make your daughter happy. It's hard for a girl to lose her mom. Just... take it."

You turned your back to him but he heard you sniffle softly behind your hand and he frowned.

"You alright?" he asked, hands slowly lowering when he sensed something was amiss

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assured him. You crossed your arms over the handle of your cart and leaned against it, like the weight of the world was forcing you down.

"No, you ain't. This palm tree mean somethin' to you?" he asked while pointing at the box.

"No, not really," you said with a shrug. But when Joel refused to accept that as an answer, you sighed and rolled your eyes. "I lost my mom, too. Last year. She lived in Florida and she loved Christmas and I saw the stupid tree so-"

You shook your head, letting your sentence fall unfinished in the air. Joel's heart sank and he looked back at Sarah, who was staring at him curiously.

"Sarah, c'mere," he called. She pushed the shopping cart down the aisle and you looked up, tilting your head to the side in confusion. "Sarah," he said with his arm outstretched towards you. "This is-"

He cut himself off and looked at you expectantly. You stood up straighter and told them both your name, which Joel repeated before looking back at his daughter.

"What'dya say we get a little help with the Christmas decorations this year?" he asked her. Then he swiveled back to you before adding, "I mean, if you wanna. We could really use it if you're free."

A slow smile stretched across your face and you gave him a quick nod before catching Sarah's eye. She grinned at you before saying, "Sounds great. He's pretty much useless, anyway." Sarah jutted her thumb in Joel's direction and you both laughed softly before you agreed.

"I mean, as long as it's not an imposition," you said quickly. Both Joel and Sarah quickly put your worries to rest.

"Not at all. We'd love the help," he assured you. Then Sarah playfully nudged his arm.

"Ask for her number, Dad."

You felt your cheeks warm and Joel awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Can I, uh, get your number? So we can set up a date? I mean, a time?"

"Yeah, of course," you giggled when he grew flustered at his slip-up. You took his phone and tapped in your name and number before handing it back to him.

"We're doing a Christmas on the beach theme for our house this year," Sarah told you excitedly, dragging your gaze off her father, who you finally allowed yourself to notice was extremely handsome.

"Oh, yeah? That sounds cool. You know, I used to live in Florida, so we literally had Christmas on the beach every year. We can put some sunglasses on Santa and beach umbrellas over the reindeer," you offered. Sarah's eyes lit up when she looked at her father.

"Dad, she's brilliant," Sarah said matter-of-factly. Joel chuckled while you tried to hide your excitement by shyly looking down at your own phone.

"Alright, well, thank you," Joel said before hoisting the box from your cart and dropping it into his. "And, uh," he glanced sideways at Sarah before saying softly, "anything else you wanna do to honor your mom, just lemme know. We'll do anythin' you want."

Even though Joel dropped his voice, Sarah still heard him. Her mouth twisted sadly as she looked away to offer you some privacy.

"Yeah, thanks," you replied with a small smile. You wrapped your fingers around the rail of your shopping cart and began to back away. "You better actually call me. 'Cause if you try to pull one over on me just to take my palm tree, I'll find you," you joked.

"Oh, I'll be callin' you, don't worry," he told you while trying to fight the stupid grin from stretching across his face. Right before you turned and waved, he shot you a wink that made your heart flutter, then you disappeared towards the cash registers.

"She's pretty."

Joel's neck practically snapped when he heard his daughter speak by his side.

"Oh. I-I ... it ain't like that. I felt bad that she-"

"Yeah, okay, Dad," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes. "C'mon. We need to find the extension cords before the store closes."

Joel let Sarah lead the way while silently trying to unravel her unexpectedly relaxed reaction to him possibly flirting with another woman. He ached for the comfort having a partner brought, but for years he stifled his own desires for fear of upsetting Sarah. She was his one and only priority, and he was fine with that.

But for the first time he began to wonder if it was possible to have both.

True to his word, Joel had called you a couple days later asking if you were free that Saturday to help decorate. It felt nice to have a distraction around the holidays. It kept you from wallowing and thinking too much about your mother, but as you were getting ready to leave, you decided you didn't want to forget about her entirely. You wanted to honor her memory in some way, so at the last minute you tugged on your ugly Christmas sweater, the same one you would wear every Christmas morning with your mom, then rushed out the door.

"Whoa! You came prepared!" Sarah exclaimed when she swung open the front door. You grinned and looked down at your sweater covered with garland that was hanging on by a thread and some horrifying looking Santa with a reindeer.

"My mom used to have a matching one, it was kind of our tradition on Christmas," you explained as you slipped off your boots.

"I love that. My mom used to have this vest with these, like, ornaments hanging off them. It was hideous but she legitimately thought it was cute," Sarah laughed over her shoulder as she led you into the kitchen, where Joel was hunched over the sink scrubbing dishes. While his back was still turned, you allowed yourself to quickly eye him up. He was wearing a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a dish towel tossed over his left shoulder. He looked so domestic and comfortable in that moment that it had your heart skipping a beat.

"Oh, hey," Joel said when he noticed you. "Sorry. Just cleanin' up. Lost track of time."

"No problem," you said, eyes still fixed on the way his broad shoulders moved underneath his shirt. Distracted, you went to lean against the kitchen counter and almost fell when you misjudged the distance, causing Sarah to stifle a giggle and turn away.

Once Joel dried his hands, he turned to face you properly. His eyes landed on your sweater and you could see the inner turmoil in his expression as he tried to figure out if it was worn as a joke or not, so you quickly put him out of his misery.

"It's just something dumb my mom and I wore on Christmas," you explained. His shoulders dropped and he smiled.

"Cute."

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from smiling like a fool when you watched his face turn pink and his eyes widen.

"I mean, it's cute - the sweater's cute - not you."

Then Joel's face twisted and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That's not to say you ain't cute, it's just - well, I was tryin' to say -"

"Oh, my god, Dad! You're making it so much worse!" Sarah laughed before disappearing back the way you came. "I'll be in the garage getting all the stuff together!" she called. You heard the rustle from her coat right before the door squeaked open and shut, leaving the two of you all alone.

"Sorry," Joel finally said sheepishly. You giggled and waved him off.

"Don't be," you replied. Maybe it was the privacy that gave you a streak of sudden bravery because you then added, "I thought it was cute. It being you."

Before you could register the shocked look on his face, you swiveled around to follow Sarah's path towards the front door. "See you out there!" you sang before slipping back outside, grateful for the cool winter air to help soothe your warm cheeks.

You were surprised with how quickly you grew comfortable with Joel and Sarah. They had an easiness to their family that you craved and very much enjoyed experiencing, even if it was only for just one afternoon.

"Good thing you were free to help today. There's supposed to be a blizzard tonight," Sarah said when she climbed the steps of the porch, arms filled with an assortment of tangled Christmas lights. "We never would have been able to put all this stuff up with a ton of snow on the ground."

"When's the competition again?" you asked, plopping down and grabbing a string of lights to unravel.

"Christmas Eve," she said, "You're coming, right?"

Your mind stuttered a bit at the question. You hadn't been invited, but you wouldn't expect to be, either. A few days ago, both she and her father were complete strangers. It would have been weird to spend Christmas Eve with them. Right?

"Oh, no, that's a time for family," you insisted while focusing all of your attention on the pile of lights in your lap. Across the yard, you both heard Joel swear to himself when two reindeer toppled over. You looked up and smiled. It was incredibly adorable to watch him work so hard to make the yard perfect for his daughter.

"So you'll be with your family, then?" Sarah questioned with a hint of sadness to her voice. Your mouth opened and closed for a second as you tried to think of what to say until you sighed and shook your head.

"No, actually I'll be alone this year," you told her after deciding to go with the truth.

"Well, then, why can't you come over?" she asked. Before you could reply, she lifted her chin and shouted across the lawn for Joel.

Immediately you raised your hands, waving them back and forth while saying, "No, please, I don't want to be a bother. I meant you should be with your family," you said.

"No one should be alone on Christmas," Sarah told you softly just as Joel had walked up, lifting one boot to rest on the bottom step.

"You're gonna be alone on Christmas?" Joel asked with a concerned look so sweet, it made your knees weak.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not a big deal," you said while doing your best to avoid both their eyes. You suddenly felt overexposed and uncomfortable, so you picked up the lights again and got to work untangling them.

"You should stop by," Joel told you. "I mean, only if you wanna. No pressure or nothin', it's just gonna be us, my brother 'n his wife but... we'd love to have you."

"We can all wear ugly sweaters, just like you and your mom used to," Sarah said, the offer making your heart melt.

"Uh, thanks, but I don't know..." you trailed off, still fixing your gaze on the lights. "I'll think about it."

The rest of the afternoon flew by, fortunately without any more awkwardness. The sun had set almost an hour prior to the three of you hurrying towards the end of the driveway so you could take in the beautiful Christmas landscape you created in all its glory.

"This is our year, I can feel it," Sarah announced happily between you both. You looked down at her and grinned, her dark brown eyes sparkling as she stared at the beachy Christmas scene you had worked so hard to create.

"Better be, considerin' my electric bill's gonna be through the roof," Joel muttered, but when you lifted your eyes to look at him, you caught him smiling just as wide as Sarah.

"Well, my job here is done," you said, clapping your gloved hands together. "I should hit the road before that blizzard comes."

"It's not supposed to snow til, like, super early in the morning," Sarah protested. "Can't you stay for a little while longer?"

"We were gonna order a pizza and watch a movie, if you're interested," Joel added. "C'mon, it's the least we could do for all your help."

You hesitantly agreed and you told yourself it was only because you missed being part of a family and absolutely nothing to do with how handsome Joel looked under the glow from the Christmas lights.

What you didn't expect was for everyone to be so exhausted after spending the day working hard that the three of you would fall asleep halfway through the movie. It was close to four in the morning when you awoke with a jolt, your neck craned at an impossible angle against the back of Joel's couch. You winced and tenderly massaged the knot in your neck, then straightened up and looked around, wondering what disturbed you in the first place.

It was Joel, who was in the process of gently picking up Sarah from the spot next to you. He noticed you were awake and held one finger to his lips. You swallowed tightly and nodded, remaining still and quiet so as not to wake up Sarah, and watched him carefully walk down the hallway past the kitchen to tuck her into bed.

Once they were both gone, you were left with a glowing television screen and a dryness in your mouth that had you wandering into the dim kitchen for some water. You were halfway through your glass and about to peer out the window when you heard Joel's voice behind you softly say your name. You swiveled around to find him leaning against the kitchen counter, still clad in that red flannel but now adorned with messy bedhead hair that had your mind going down a dangerous path.

"God, sorry I fell asleep," you said, placing your empty glass in the sink. "I'll get going-"

Joel laughed quietly, cutting you off.

"Don't think you'll be goin' anywhere. Did you look outside?"

Your face fell and you hurried over to the window, peeling the curtain back just to find his entire driveway, your car included, covered in a thick blanket of snow.

"Still comin' down, too," he told you. "Ain't safe to drive. You can take my bed and I'll sleep on the couch."

"Oh, gosh, no - I'll sleep on the couch," you told him firmly. The corner of Joel's mouth twitched into a little smile before he pushed off the counter, taking a few steps towards you.

"You're stubborn, y'know that?"

"I do," you replied with a grin. But when he got close enough to pinch the material of your sweater between his fingers, your smile slipped from your face and your heart began to race.

"I like it," he finally said, his voice so soft it sent a shiver down your spine. "You, by the way. You and that stubborn streak. Not the sweater, this thing is ugly as hell."

You laughed and quickly clapped your hand over your mouth so as not to wake up Sarah. Joel grinned and moved a little closer, the scent from his laundry detergent and faded cologne invading your senses.

"You'll come by for Christmas, right?" he asked, letting his hand fall back to his side. He gazed down at you, those beautiful eyes scanning your face like he was looking for something.

"I don't want to impose on your family time," you told him, noting you sounded a little short of breath from the close proximity. He just frowned and the hand that was once touching your sweater came up to pinch your chin.

It felt as if time stood still when he leaned down to gingerly brush his lips over yours. Then he leaned back and searched your eyes, checking to make sure what he did was okay. Without hesitating, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed your mouth against his, too eager to feel the warmth of his lips again to wait.

"How 'bout now?" Joel asked after he tore himself away. You opened your eyes and looked up at him curiously, then he smirked. "You still think it's an imposition?" he clarified. Your eyes lit up and you bit back a smile as you pretended to think about it.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," you teased, "I might need you to kiss me again before I can decide."

Joel chuckled then crashed his mouth against yours, taking your breath away. You could feel a heat behind that kiss, one that was filled with promise and excitement that had you feeling lightheaded and giddy.

"Well?" he panted when he pulled away a second time, but he kept your cheek cradled in his palm while he waited for your answer.

"You make a very compelling argument," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his middle. He grinned and leaned forward again for another kiss, but stopped inches away so he could ask, "That mean you'll be here for Christmas?"

"Yeah," you breathed, "I'll be here for Christmas."

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[auroracalisto]

Hey can you do a fiyero x reader where the reader is afraid of being vulnerable and he helps them?

yes, superfartninja, i think i can.

to be changed.

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 3.4k words summary: to be vulnerable meant to be defenseless. it was a liability and that's all it ever would be. fiyero couldn't have that, now could he? a/n: please remember that i only have movie knowledge, so this will be based solely on what i saw in the movie. :P also, shout outs to house song by searows (was on repeat for this fic). erm. this kind of got away from me. i started it was 12 AM and now it's nearly 2 AM. hope it's coherent.

It wasn't like you to be vulnerable. It just didn't happen. It was like... asking a fish or an elephant to climb a tree, or some other weird analogy that you heard oh-so-long ago, when vulnerability aged you more than it helped.

To be vulnerable meant to be hurt. To be ridiculed, to be laughed at, to be made a fool in front of anyone who cared to look your way. It was something that you knew was not needed. You would be fine living by yourself. You came into this world alone and screaming, and you would leave this world the same way.

If you cut out the wound before it began to fester, you solved the problem immediately. Or so they say.

So that's what you did, long ago, when you swore to yourself that the pain you felt would be the very last time. It would never happen again. It couldn't happen again.

Oh, Oz, it couldn't. Your heart couldn't take it.

What was left of your heart, anyway. Sometimes you feared you no longer had one, especially when you feared the pain that would haunt you if someone else came along and made you feel that way again.

It's not that you were afraid. No, fear of being vulnerable was foolish. At least... you believed that you weren't afraid of being vulnerable.

Perhaps that was an act of foolishness in itself. Pretending that you weren't afraid. Pretending that having few friends and few moments of happiness didn't pierce your heart with every passing second.

Perhaps you needed to be better. To be vulnerable, to swear off that silly promise you made to yourself so many years ago.

But it was so difficult.

Being vulnerable was to be in pain. To be lost to a world of sorrow. To be... hurt by the very thing you swore you'd never be hurt by again.

It wouldn't happen.

You wouldn't let it.

He existed in the back of your mind. His beautiful blue eyes, the way those pretty locks fell in front of his eyes when he actually studied his books (if he ever did, of course).

When was the last time he actually tried...? No. You couldn't think of him like that. Too much thinking about his pretty face would ruin you.

You had only talked to him a few times here and there, and the first time was to merely ask him to move out of the way. He took up quite a lot of space—or at least, maybe it was his confidence. It oozed from him like an air of upmost superiority.

No...

You were just being cruel. He was just standing in the way, out of breath from singing to Galinda in the library (because of course—who didn't sing to pretty girls in libraries anymore?).

The second time you spoke to him was over the essay you had to write in your literature class. Peer reviews were the bane of your existence, and this essay, because of course it did, had a simple prompt in response to one of your readings: Taking into account the author's sheer disdain for the idea of magic, write what you believe Oz would be like without magic.

Thought-provoking, yes. You wrote a decent two pages, handwritten of course.

He gave you a paragraph.

If the world of Oz existed without magic, perhaps we would all be better off. No more bickering over the usages of it all, no more idiosyncrasies, no more debates on whether you are intelligent or mediocre if you hadn't the ability to wave a wand or utter a simple spell. If we didn't have magic, perhaps life would be far more difficult, but I also feel as if we should see what it would be like. Maybe there would be less heartbreak. More happiness to go around.

Okay. A piss-poor paragraph that made you wonder how he was even passing Madame Lillabet's literature class.

Maybe he wasn't.

You didn't feel pity for the man—nobility had the ability to do so many things that you would only ever dream of. Why should you feel pity—vulnerability—for a man you didn't know, let alone understood?

Oz, even now, his essay haunted you. You did your best with your review, pointing out the obvious things missing—a decent thesis, body paragraphs that proved his thesis, and just in general, an entire essay that was expected of the entire class.

He merely read over your essay and made one simple comment: Excellent.

Oh, yes, excellent. It was excellent to know that he was just trying to help your essay, yes? Leaving that little comment, even though you didn't make full marks—how was it supposed to help you?

Pity be damned. He was a fool, through and through.

Things muddled in your mind like they often did. Thoughts racing, heartbeat close behind the quick pace.

If you had magic, you'd be sure to quell it.

These thoughts were the one thing that you wished you could squash under the heel of your boot. They were the bane of your existence, the utterance of a foolhardy penance to the god of whatever looked down upon you and wished for pain.

Perhaps that was what was meant for you.

A life of pain—of pity from others, of the amenability to be swayed by those around you even when you tried, desperately, to stay away from those who may catch your attention.

Like him.

Oh, Oz, just like him.

Fiyero.

The man who'd lose his head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders. The man who once told you in passing that if he hadn't a brain, perhaps classes would be easier—then he wouldn't truly be all there, and he'd easily get around the... well, specifics of it all. The man whom you felt tugging at your heartstrings, even when you told yourself no.

It would not happen.

It could not happen.

You would not let it.

In typical, terrible luck fashion, you found yourself wandering the halls of Shiz late at night, unable to sleep. The thoughts racing through your head of so many things, not just him (although they kept leading back to the fool), they just weren't stopping.

An exam was to be held tomorrow. Perhaps you could create a distraction—keep the professors from being able to do as they needed. There were a box of fireworks hidden in one of the many corridor closets, kept for special occasion. You could whip a few of them out and create so much chaos that they'd surely have to cancel the exam!

You leaned against the railing, looking down at the stonework of Shiz's courtyard. A chill ran down your spine from the cold breeze, and for once, all was silent if only for a moment.

His voice brought you out from your thoughts.

"Y/n," he said, an obvious smile playing at his lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut and glanced back at him. Without saying a word, you acknowledged him.

"Doesn't look like your dorm," he continued. "What are you doing out here, all alone?"

"Thinking."

His eyebrow quirked. "Thinking? Oh," he softly hummed, coming to stand beside of you. "Well, that's no fun, now is it? What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

He snorted softly. "You're thinking about... nothing?"

"Whatever I'm thinking is none of your business," you retorted.

He stared you down for a moment, tilting his head curiously. He hummed again and looked out at where you had been staring moments prior.

"You are right," he softly said, voice much quieter this time. "Let me lead you back to your room. We have an exam tomorrow, remember? You at least need to pretend to sleep."

You paused. Since when did he care about exams? You glanced at him, fighting the urge to question him. You let out a soft sigh and shrugged, allowing him to lead you to your dorm.

The walk was quiet, and you almost questioned how he knew where your dorm was, but you didn't. He seemed to pay attention better than most (it was part of that aloofness, you've noticed), and it wasn't the first time he had seen you near your dorm.

It was at least the third. The number had to be easy to memorize by now. 133.

As you opened your door, Fiyero spoke. "You know, I've been thinking..."

"Dangerous thing for you, isn't it?" you quipped, not looking at him as you stepped inside.

He let out a soft chuckle. You amused him to no end.

"Yes, perhaps," he softly said. "But besides. I was still thinking. I've been... well, wondering if perhaps you would—"

"—no."

He blinked slowly. "What? No? Y/n, you didn't even hear what I had to say—"

"—the answer is still no," you said. You glanced up at him from the spot you had been staring at, frowning. "I don't know what this is, but we are not friends. Do not ask me for favors."

"Not friends, hm?" he softly hummed, leaning against the doorway as he locked eyes with you. So knowing your dorm number was just a fluke.

"Not friends. Now if you'll excuse me, I should probably go and pretend to sleep."

His upper lip quirked in a faint smirk. Not friends, but you still joked with him as a friend would do. He rolled his eyes and gave you a rather joking half-bow.

"Of course," he said. "Do not let me keep you up. Perhaps I should find my dorm as well."

"You should do that," you simply said, shutting the door right after.

You didn't give him a chance to say anything else, quickly locking the door and heading back to your bed.

Heart pounding, mind still racing, but not with the thoughts of earlier. No, dear reader, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

So impressionable, so—so kind, so—well, was he really kind?

To you.

He was kind to you.

Nearly a week passed you by. The exam went rather well, without any kind of distraction. Passing marks and a somewhat decent night sleep.

You do everything you can to try and avoid Fiyero. Running this way and that, going through all of the longer corridors instead of the shortcuts you knew by heart. You did everything you could to avoid his handsome face.

You did everything you could to avoid the vulnerability that plagued your heart every time you thought of him.

If you simply embraced the wants of Fiyero, perhaps not having a brain would keep you from thinking this way. You'd still have a heart, sure, but it was much better than keeping yourself on your toes wondering if you'd see the damned man at any passing second.

On the hour of the rising moon, almost exactly on the dot, Fiyero spotted you. And this time, you were not evading him.

He practically took off after you, leaving his friends behind. They scoffed and called after him, but he didn't look back. His focus was on you.

He grabbed onto your wrist as you went to leave, not letting you go.

"Y/n! There you are," he softly said. "I have been looking everywhere for you. I wouldn't have thought it would be so difficult to find you, but—"

"—there you go, thinking again," you blurted, unable to stop yourself. Your tongue was wagging faster than your brain was working.

He weakly smiled. "Yes. I know. How ironic, hm?"

You watched as he stared you down.

"Look," he softly began. "I truly—I do not know what I did to deserve you ignoring me at any which way, but I wish you would tell me why. What did I do, Y/n? I thought—well, I assumed that we were friends, but perhaps I was wrong. I find myself wrong quite often nowadays."

"I—well, Fiyero, I—" you paused. You squeezed your eyes shut and inhaled a deep breath. "I don't have friends."

He blinked slowly. "You don't have friends? What of the one girl you were with the other day? Milla?"

"I do not have friends," you repeated. "I have... acquaintances. People I do not get attached to."

"That is sad."

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow. It seemed like a commonality when he spoke with you. The staple eyebrow raise had to happen or else he wasn't really chatting with you.

"It is sad. Why wouldn't you want to get attached to people?"

"I don't want to have meaningless relationships," you said. You avoided saying, I don't want to have relationships at all. "Not everyone can be as friendly as you, Fiyero."

He rolled his eyes. "Friendly. Yes. I talk to people, but I would rather not have all the attention that I do."

"Oh, that's rich," you said, scoffing. "You play the popular little prince and then claim you do not want it? What is that, Fiyero?"

Fiyero pursed his lips. "It is just—this is not a conversation about me. I wanted to have an intervention for you since you seemed as though you were avoiding me every which way. Now. Just—"

"—an intervention? What? Please. You sound ridiculous."

"So do you!" he returned, hands to his hips like an older man scolding a child for something they broke. "You vex me, Y/n! You act as if you are interested in me, then run away hiding like a scared little pup. You act as if you are afraid to get close to anyone."

You stared at him, lips parted ever-so-slightly. But it was enough. You were done for.

He let out a curt laugh. "You are."

"What?"

"You are. Scared. I can see it in you. You listen to what I have to say, even when the others don't. I've made an effort to pay attention to you. To see what you—"

"—Fiyero, stop."

"Do not tell me to stop, Y/n," he said, voice low with conviction. "Not now. Not when I've finally figured you out. You are scared. But of what? Being close to someone? Having a friend?"

You frowned. "I am not scared—"

"—you look at me like if I were to touch you, you'd melt."

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"I can see it in your eyes, Y/n," he said, not looking away. He held eye contact with you and hoped that you would continue to do the same. "You—you're scared. To open your heart to the people around you."

You frowned, again. It was perpetual anymore. "And you're a sad man who dances and pretends everything is fine because Galinda said you looked pretty one day."

He blinked slowly, a smile quirking on his lips. "Maybe. But this—this isn't about me, Y/n. This is about you."

"What even is this? I didn't agree to have you psychoanalyze everything I've ever done."

"Neither did I, yet here we are," he said. "I've had a lot of time to think, to mull it over, and I know it. I know it now. You are scared. I don't know what happened to you. I don't know who hurt you in your past, or if something tragic happened to make you so cold inside, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with being... with being vulnerable, Y/n. There's something... magical, even, about opening up to others."

"Oh, and you would know, wouldn't you?"

He frowned. "Y/n—"

"—no. Absolutely not. You do not get to sit there and ridicule me for not wanting to be close to people and then not take what I give you," you said. "You do not let anyone close to you. Sure, Galinda, but what does she know about you? Does she know how you half-ass everything? How you hardly even talk to your 'friends' and just let them float along with you like everything is fine and dandy? You're as sad as I am, if that's what you're trying to say. Don't try to fool yourself."

"I am not trying to fool myself," he softly said. "I am only trying to make it known that I see you. I see myself in you."

"Oh, that's rich," you said, scoffing. "The rich, popular boy sees himself in little ol' me. That's perfect."

"Y/n—"

"—no. Don't. Stop. Just. I don't want to talk to you anymore. We're not friends. We never were friends. Just leave me alone."

It's simple, but it shuts him down. And with that, you run from his side, rushing to hide away in your dorm.

You couldn't believe what you did. Blowing up at him instead of listening to what he had to say. He read you like the children's book your heart truly was—while everyone else focused on the words, he focused on the pictures. The minute details that seemed to pass by everyone's mind because the story was flowing far too quickly.

He saw the delicate brush strokes, the intricate colors, the pieces of you that the words did not show.

He knew you.

And it scared you.

Only you knew yourself. If anyone else were to know who you were, deep inside, well, that would be disastrous.

It couldn't happen.

You couldn't let it.

Fear.

Perhaps fear was the best way to describe the way you felt.

You sat by the edge of the lake in the forest just beyond Shiz's campus, fingers gently brushing against the water. The surface rippled, sending small waves to the end of the shore.

You were afraid.

Of what?

Of a man knowing you?

Of Fiyero knowing you better than even your family once knew you?

You sat there, thoughts racing through your mind. It was as if you couldn't avoid them anymore.

Days had passed since you blew up at Fiyero and ran. You couldn't avoid him forever, you knew that, but it seemed as if your thoughts believed the same.

Tears pricked at your eyes. The warm, salty tears began to fall before you could even try to stop them, and a soft sob bubbled at the back of your throat.

"Y/n?"

Shit.

You quickly wiped your tears away and looked back at him—at Fiyero. But your tears wouldn't stop. A soft sob rippled through you and you turned your head away.

Fiyero came to your side, kneeling down in the soft earth beside of you. He inwardly grimaced at the dirt, but he said nothing of it. He'd bathe in mud if it meant you would stop your tears.

He reached forward, gently placing a hand to your cheek. He turned your head to face him.

"Y/n," he softly said. "It's alright. You... you're alright."

Another sob.

He pulled you into his arms, and you let him. You didn't pull away, melting into his embrace as he said you would before. He pressed his chin to the top of your head, situating himself so he would be more comfortable near you.

He softly hummed a soft tune—you remembered it. The one thing he hummed quite often when you caught him alone, or trying to focus on his school work.

Dancing through life, skimming the surface... Life's more painless for the brainless.

He was just a sad boy with needs of his own, much like you were scared of being seen. Of being known.

Of being loved.

Oh. Oh, that's what it was.

It terrified you to no end.

Fiyero pressed a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands.

"What's got you so upset, love?" he softly asked, wiping your tears away gently with his thumbs.

You shook your head. "I... later," you mumbled. You leaned into his grasp, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes soften.

He released a soft, shaky sigh of his own, before he pulled you back into his arms. He'd hold you until the end of the world if that's what you needed him to do.

Being vulnerable—it was the one thing you had told yourself you would never do. Ever again. And here you were, letting this man hold you and practically lull you into a calmness you'd never felt before.

Is this what it felt like? To be... weak? To be... frail?

No.

Vulnerability... it didn't mean that.

It meant that you were... open. That you had managed to open your heart to a more... malleable form.

To be changed.

To find the one thing in life that you knew would keep you going for as long as it could.

To be vulnerable meant to be loved.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had. 

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you. 

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.” 

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered. 

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.” 

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse. 

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!” 

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains. 

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest. 

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away. 

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you. 

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive. 

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours. 

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second. 

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds. 

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood. 

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through. 

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did. 

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming. 

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips. 

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest. 

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them. 

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas. 

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar. 

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too. 

Everything would be done if another city fell.  

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry. 

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down. 

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him. 

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another. 

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm. 

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike. 

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that. 

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do. 

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness. 

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up. 

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did. 

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears. 

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!” 

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock. 

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious. 

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream. 

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static. 

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead. 

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out. 

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t. 

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life. 

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.” 

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile? 

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky. 

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression. 

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine. 

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact. 

Your face gains heat. 

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment. 

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?” 

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began. 

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died. 

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar. 

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found. 

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.” 

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk. 

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls. 

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.” 

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around. 

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more. 

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water. 

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering. 

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet. 

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important. 

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything. 

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course. 

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious. 

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years. 

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place. 

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet. 

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds. 

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?” 

You weren’t going to stop until you found it. 

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet. 

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him. 

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you. 

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.” 

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you. 

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard. 

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?” 

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it. 

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.” 

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.” 

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after. 

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question. 

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile. 

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building. 

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told. 

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood. 

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch. 

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago. 

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system. 

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real. 

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three. 

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices. 

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.” 

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible. 

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?” 

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years. 

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?” 

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh. 

The man forces a weak huff. 

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you. 

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same. 

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you. 

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck. 

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?” 

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.” 

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you. 

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon. 

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[justnatoka]

...and consequences

Poly! The Lost Boys x GN! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Prompt: "You are all remarkably well behaved tonight. What did you do?"

Summary: The boys decide to take matters into their own hands.

Part 2/2

Previous Part

It’s been a few days since the boys came to the diner, and you started to get slightly anxious. Sure, it’s not like they visited you every night before, but based on how you had to part ways last time, you feared they weren’t coming back. Maybe they got tired of your manager’s bullshit and decided it just wasn’t worth it. Even though you thought you had something going on between you and them, maybe you were the only one who started developing feelings. When they didn’t show up on the third night either, you felt like they abandoned you. So you decided to keep your head down and distract yourself with the monotony of work.

There was just one problem. You still had to interact with your manager, which was a challenge given that he was the cause of all this. In the following days you made sure to make him wait a few seconds every time he called your name, always dragging your feet a bit when he gave you a new task to complete. It was childish, but it made you feel a bit better knowing that you caused him mild irritation all day. It’s not like he could do much about it, you still did your job right, completed everything he told you to. It was a small and pretty harmless way to show him your disdain.

At first you thought it was your actions that had him on edge, but after you witnessed him literally jump out of fright when a customer accidentally sneaked up on him to ask him a question, you knew it had to be something else. You noticed him eyeing the door all night, flinching every time the bell chimed above it. Not to mention how he got more and more nervous when closing time drew closer. You always left a few minutes before him, since it was his duty to lock up, and you could have sworn you saw his hand shake last night as he waved you goodnight.

Another peculiar thing was that he started to be nicer to you. Sure, he wasn’t exactly friendly, but it’s been days since he chastised you for something, and his backhanded comments had also stopped. You had no idea what was going on with him, but you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

On a night exactly one week since the incident, the bell chimed like usual, and when you looked up to greet the new customer, your heart missed a beat. Paul and Marko was grinning at you from where they stood, the latter even waving enthusiastically, David and Dwayne behind them, all of them handsome as ever. You felt a bright smile grow on your face, and you couldn’t contain your excitement as you walked up to them.

“Well look who decided to finally show up,” you greeted them.

“Hi babe, did you miss us?” You felt something warm swell in your chest as Paul asked the same question he did last time.

“You know what, Paulie? I actually did miss you guys.” His eyes seemed to shine just a tad brighter. “Where have you been?”

They took their seat at their usual booth before David levelled you with a curious look.

“We had some pest problem that needed to be taken care of,” he answered, his word choice sounding strangely purposeful.

The four of them shared glances and smiles with each other, and now you were sure there was some hidden meaning that you weren’t privy to.

“How about you, sugar? Everything okay with work?” Marko asked casually, and for a second it seemed like all of them were awaiting your answer with bated breaths.

“Everything’s fine, the customers are mostly nice, and even my boss seemed to lay off his pestering lately. I have no idea what’s gotten into him,” you admitted. There was a noticeable shift in the air around them, as if some unseen tension dissolved all of a sudden.

But now that you mentioned him, you remembered that your manager must be fuming by now, staring daggers at your group. Looking over your shoulder, you were surprised when you didn’t see him anywhere. You shrugged it off and took their order. Going back to the kitchen, there was still no sight of him. It was odd, as he was usually watching them through the window in the kitchen door. While waiting for their food to be made, you noticed another curious thing. The boys were sitting neatly in their booth chatting, no bickering, no shouting, just acting like normal people.

Even after you brought out their food, they thanked you with bright smiles, no over the top flirting, and they ate without a fuss or without a single piece of fry going anywhere other than their mouth. It was too normal.

You stood behind the counter, chewing on your nail in contemplation. Something was up.  For one, you haven’t seen your manager since the boys came in, even though you were sure he was talking to a customer just before that. You didn’t even see him disappear into the back office, he was just gone. On the other hand, the boys were acting like your everyday mild mannered townsfolk who came in for a late night snack, which was the total opposite of their usual chaos. Some unseen connection gnawed at the back of your mind but you couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

In the end you couldn’t take it anymore, and seeing as there was no one to chastise you for it, you went over to chat.

"You are all remarkably well behaved tonight,” you eyed them suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” David answered nonchalantly. “We realized that we’ve been causing you a lot of trouble so we decided to play nice.” The innocent smile he gave you told you otherwise.

“Yeah, sure.”

Hearing the disbelief in your voice, Dwayne asked, “Is it so hard to believe that we can behave nice?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

Marko snorted but said nothing.

“Oh come on, dollface, we can be really nice if we want to,” Paul insisted. “You know, like helping old ladies cross the road and whatever shit people do.”

Marko almost choked on his milkshake at this point while you just stared at Paul with the most deadpan expression of your life.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and as you turned around you saw your manager peeking out the kitchen door hesitantly. His gaze was flitting from you to behind you, his face suddenly going pale. When you looked back to the boys, you just barely caught something before they all smiled at you innocently. You told yourself that it was just the trick of the light that made it seem like their eyes shined yellow for a second.

“Yes?” you turned to your manager again.

“C-Can I talk to you for a second?” The stutter was new.

You furrowed your brows as you answered, “Sure.”

Following him into the kitchen, he stopped just on the other side of the door, sending nervous glances outside.

“Can you tell them that I learned my lesson and they can stop now?”

“What?”

“It’s all good, they can come in any time they want. I’ve been good, haven’t bothered anybody. Please, just tell them! I can’t take this anymore!”

He was getting agitated now, looking absolutely terrified. The puzzle pieces fell into place in your head. Glancing over to them through the window, it looked like the boys were looking at your interaction intently, but the second you turned to them, the same innocent smiles were suddenly on all their faces. Letting out a heavy sigh, you assured him that you will tell them everything he wanted you to, then marched out of there and over to their table.

“What did you do to the poor guy?”

“What do you mean, kitten? We did absolutely nothing,” David faked concern.

Looking at Dwayne, you knew you had no chance of getting anything out of him either, and even though Marko looked a bit antsy, a stare from David rendered him mute. So you turned to the weakest link in the group.

“Paul, darling, why don’t you tell me what happened?” Your voice was sickly sweet and he started to sweat.

“Nothing, like David said.” No pet name meant he was nervous. Good, you thought as you continued.

“Paulie,” you practically purred his name, and you saw him break in front of your eyes.

“We might have threatened him a bit,” he muttered under his breath, but you heard it nonetheless.

Your eyes almost fell out of your head as you stared at them.

“You WHAT?”

Paul shrunk under the extremely disappointed look David was sending him.

Seeing no point in denying it anymore, Marko jumped in. “He was treating you like shit, sugar, he hurt you. Were we supposed to just stand around and do nothing?”

“You sure as hell weren’t supposed to threaten him! What if he went to the police?”

“We made sure he wouldn’t,” David answered matter-of-factly, his tone casual but his gaze so cold it caused a chill to run down your spine. How can such a short sentence sound so sinister?

A big hand enveloped yours, and you turned to look into Dwayne’s deep, warm eyes.

“We didn’t want you to get hurt. We just wanted to help.”

Feeling your resolve crumble, you let out a dejected sigh. You gave his hand a little squeeze before looking over them with a much softer expression.

“Thank you for looking out for me, but you didn’t need to do all that. I don’t want you guys to get in trouble for me, it’s not worth it.”

“But you are worth it, babe,” Paul asserted, seemingly back to his normal self. “Besides, if we couldn’t come here anymore, we wouldn’t be able to see your beautiful face so often.”

A blush crept up your cheeks, but now you were smiling brightly.

“Jesus, Paulie, how can you turn everything into a flirty comment?” you chuckled.

“It’s my talent.” His grin was infectious.

“Okay, but promise me one thing. Let’s not resort to threats to solve our problems, alright?”

“Hey, I didn’t even break his nose,” Marko chimed in and you burst out laughing.

“You want me to give you a gold star?”

“I can think of a few things you could reward me with,” he winked, and everything was back as it should be.

The rest of the night was filled with jokes and laughter. David felt satisfied as he watched you interact with his brothers. You were good for them, he felt that the very first time you met. That’s why he promised himself to protect you. And for now, that meant protecting you from the truth.

You didn’t have to know about how they hunted down your manager when he was walking to his car in the empty parking lot after locking up the diner. You didn’t have to know how they cornered him, changing before his eyes and threatened him, leaving him with a reminder that the only reason they let him live is because it’s more convenient for you. But also making sure he knew that if he ever put his hands on you or treated you like shit ever again, they would find him. You didn’t have to know that they kept stalking him for a whole week, keeping him on edge, making sure he kept his promise. There were a lot of things you didn’t have to know yet. And maybe they will tell you all about it one day, but for now, they were satisfied with just spending these nights at the diner with you.

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[bunny-jpeg]

hello, could i get nanaimo bars with a martini and glass of water on the side with Max Verstappen? also love your little bakery it’s such a cute idea and love your work too!

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? check out the menu! there are tons of prompts for you to choose from to customize your order! and thank you for this lovely person for submitting an order!! i have still been under the weather, but i'm glad that i can finally get back into the groove of writing!

nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, aftercare, librarian!reader, lingerie, gentle sex, size difference/kink, missionary, max is in love, mafia boss!max

you remembered the first time you felt max's gaze on you. most would've froze at the feeling, like getting ice in the back. but, instead you turned around from the shelf you were in front of and asked, "do you need help looking for something?"

it had been the first time in his adult life that max actually felt a little intimidated. he could easily dispose of you, you had recently moved to the netherlands and had no real social circle. but, you leveled your gaze at him. it was so kind, that it left him a little scared. people were rarely kind to a man like max.

if he had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, you would've seen the kind of man he was. instead he cleared his throat against his fist and said, "i was wondering if there was a pay phone, my car has broken down and i was always told that libraries were good at helping people." he smiled at you.

you looked at him briefly and said, "alright then sir, we don't have any pay phones. but we have a phone at the front desk you can use. just let me finish up here and i'll be happy to help you."

he then followed you akwardly as you took the elevator with the empty book cart in tow. he even offered to push it for you as you led him to the front desk. you didn't even notice the small whispers and lingering gazes on the both of you, instead you got the phone and held it out to him to dial.

max knew from that moment on that you were going to be a part of his life. in any capacity he could have you, at an arms length or bone crushingly close. and over time, the more you saw of him. you thought the closer the better.

now even after three years together, the lion of holland was still in your space. when he could, he'd visit you at the library branch you worked at. he'd linger around you until it was time for your break. then you two would have lunch together in the small room in the back, amongst the stacks of returned books.

by year three, you knew who max was. he didn't try to hide it from you, he was very honest about it all. what he had done, but you in return simply asked, "if we ever broke up, would you kill me for leaving?"

and max shook his head quickly and said, "no. i could never, even if you were the one to stab me in the back. i could never harm you." and you accepted him. as long as you could still work at the library, you'd love him with all your heart.

even though your job was less than dangerous, but max worried about you being so available to the public. you knew that max kept tabs on you from time to time at work, you had become familiar with the men of max's circle. and sometimes they'd sit at the library. you simply just continued your work.

but on fridays you got to go home early, so you quickly grabbed your belongings and headed into the car. you threw yourself in the passenger side and pulled him in for a soft kiss. he took you by the face and made a soft noise into the kiss.

"someone missed me." he remarked with a chuckle as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a good squeeze.

"i was looking forward for today all day. it came in yesterday, and it felt like my shift went even slower than usual!" you sighed dramatically before you giggled at the feeling of your lover's lips on your neck.

"i know, i know. this gift you bought and didn't tell me what it was. you know i don't like secrets. or surprises." he gripped at your thigh for a moment.

you held his strong jaw in your hands, and beamed at him, "it's not easy to keep secrets from you, max. i usually don't keep them, but i wanted this to be special for you. since you're leaving for england in a few days."

"i know, my treasure." he sighed, "but i promise to bring you back something. as a thank you for waiting for me to come home." he leaned in once more to kiss you softly on the lips.

dinner left you feeling anxious, once you were finished you left your boyfriend in the living room while you scurried off to the bedroom to get changed. you felt your pulse quicken as you pulled out the large black box from under the bed.

you got dressed quickly. it wasn't anything too special, it was a white mesh bra and panties, with embroidered details on it. what made it stand out to was not that the embroidery was of flowers or something sweet, but rather lions. something strong and powerful, and your lover was known as the lion of the netherlands, so it was only fitting.

the stockings you wore were a similar colour and before you knew it, you had opened the door to your bedroom and called out, "max, you can come in now!" before you shut the door and almost tripped over yourself getting to the bed. you sat down and tried to pull off a sexy pose, but ended up looking silly.

so you sat there on the edge with your feet dangling just above the floor, you kept your shoulders back to highlight your breasts which were barely covered by the embroidered designs. it was either this or a collar with max's name on it.

the door opened and max stilled in the doorway at the sight of you. his heart leapt as he admired your beauty. the air got caught in his throat and he coughed a little bit. he then said, "you're beautiful."

and you got flustered at his simple words. usually you felt a little insecure, the shape of your face, the size of your eyebrows, the softness of your stomach. you were a librarian, not a model. but max looked at you like you belonged on the cover of vogue.

he approached closer, he started to undo his button up. his chest was so exposed, lined with tattoos that were symbols of his past. he swallowed as he dropped the expensive shirt onto the floor. he worked his belt off and soon he was in nothing but briefs as he got into bed with you. those strong arms wrapped around you with his nose in your hair.

"this was your little surprise, schat." he said in a low tone, his large hands roamed your body, "this was what you had bought for me. thank you, thank you, thank you." he kissed at the side of your neck and you moaned a little bit. you felt the heat in your gut.

"i wanted to make it special for you." you said as you looked into his blue eyes. you beamed at him with your hand on his bare chest, "see they have little lions on them!"

he chuckled and leaned in for a sweet kiss, "it's perfect, my love." he could feel the thump of his cold heart as he smothered you in another kiss. his fingers found the tiny waistband of the underwear and pulled them down.

"i love you, max. all of you, every last scar and tattoo, every last inch of you. i'm lucky to love you." you giggled when he grazed a calloused thumb across your clit. you moaned a little bit and leaned into his touch.

your lips touched once more and his hands found the clasp of the bra. he groaned against the kiss and his erection throbbed against his briefs. he wanted you, this little surprise was beautiful.

the smartest woman he knew also happened to be the more beautiful. he could recall many times you'd bring him a cheesy romance novel and read it to him while he basked in your warmth.

"i love you." he said as he got you onto your back fully. his hands lightly palmed your breasts before he got up on his knees and between your legs.

he eyed your curves, bare in front of him. he palmed himself through his briefs before he got them off with a little help from you. both pairs of hands on his torso and soon he was nude. back between your legs, his hands roamed his thighs for a moment as he got your legs around his waist.

"you're beautiful." he said, "so beautiful." he leaned over you and kissed you on the lips as he slipped his cock into you. every time he had sex with you, or rather made love to you, it felt like a dream.

you blushed a little and wanted to cover your face, you squirmed a little bit at the sweet words that came from your lover's mouth.

"who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." he coaxed out of you as he thrusted against you.

you said meekly, "i'm your pretty girl."

he chuckled and planted both hands on either side of you for a good angle to thrust his hips against you. he felt the thrill of pleasure in his head as he moved against you. oh, you looked divine. he said softly as he moved his hips against you, "je bent zo mooi, ik wil alleen jou."

you blushed a little bit, "really, no one else."

he shook his head before he leaned in for another kiss, "no one. no one else ever. since the moment i saw you at the library, i knew that i had to be with you."

the praise left a curl in your gut as the two of you moved together. the kisses were deep and you felt the warmth of your lover around you. you panted between the kisses, your heart leapt at the feeling of him so close to you.

"i could never hurt you." he said, "i'd rather skin myself alive then you be without. you are my world, the thing that keeps me human. that i still have a heart."

you replied softly, "max, you've always been human." you pulled him in for a soft kiss as you wrapped your legs around him more. you two moved against one another, you giggled between moans.

"you are my beating heart, my treasure.' he said softly as he continued to move against him. the pleasure was pin pricks across his skin as he thrusted up into you.

you moaned against him, feeling the tug in your chest from his kind words. you knew that max was a dedicated man, when he set his sights on something he'd see it through to the end. that didn't stop with just work, he wanted to make sure that he gave you the perfect life.

and you didn't ask for much, you enjoyed your job and all you needed was his love and support through anything you wished to do. as you kiss once more, you felt his warmth against you.

the two of you moved against one another, you then kissed passionately. his kisses lingered on your skin, he gripped onto the bed under your back and he groaned a little at the sensation through his body.

"please."

"mine."

"forever, my dear. i'll keep you in my heart forever."

his words were honey in your blood, you felt the thrill of him in your body as you clutched onto him.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

you clutched onto your lover's shoulders. your strong, handsome lover. one of the scariest men in the country, if not the continent. he could kill anyone if he so desired, but with you, he was so loving and sweet.

he was your man, and despite all the fear he could instill. he loved you, and that love was felt in every thing he did for you. you kissed him deeply once more as you climaxed. you moaned into the kiss and he continued to thrust up into you. a few more steady thrusts of his hips and he finished inside of you, in the process pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

he slowed his pace and said, "my beautiful girl. please, please let me love you forever."

you pressed a kiss on the small scar on his cheek, an act of sweetness as you replied, "of course, always. you and i are together till you get tired of me." you giggled.

he pulled out and laid down next to you. he draped a heavily tattooed arm across your middle and gazed at you with love in his eyes. his breathing started to even out. he wiped his forehead free of sweat with his other hand before he snuggled further into your side.

he peppered your face with kisses, asking you quietly if you were alright. if you needed anything. he was the king of after care, even when the sex was as gentle as it could be.

he worried for you, as you worried for him.

you looked at him and smiled. there was a sparkle in those blue eyes. he then closed them and stayed close to you. he sighed contently.

"thank you for the gift. i almost tore them off of you, but i want to see them on you again. if i'm the big scary lion, then you're my lioness." he linked his fingers with you then kissed the top of your hand, "now and forever more." <3

[w2sology]

DOING THE PRANK WHERE U PRETEND TO GET SOMETHING FROM THE BACK OF THE CAR BUT INTENTIONALLY SMACK YOUR S/O WITH HARRY PLEASE!!!!! would love if u included the comments at the end

cut it out, harry lewis.

summary: harry's been a bit sick of you hopping on tiktok trends, but this one leaves him a little more than baffled.

warnings: none

notes: this trend had me giggling so bad omg 😭😭😭 guys it's been ages (like a month but still) since i last wrote something writer's block was KILLING ME 😀 feel free to send in some prompts or reqs <3

harry had told you to get ready in the next half an hour, that you'd be going on a little date in central london. well, he didn't tell you, rather he sprung the idea up on you after you complained about being bored for the last two days.

it took a lot more than he thought it would've to convince you to leave the house, with harry going as far as telling you that he'd drive. that's how you knew he was being serious.

so as he was getting ready after you, you scrolled through the obsession of your life that was tiktok, laughing every so often and sending some to your friends who had yet to respond to the others that you sent.

stopping on one video that you couldn't stop giggling at, a thought formed in your mind. the tiktok was of a girl who wouldn't stop "accidentally" hotting her boyfriend whilst trying to get things out of the backseat of the car.

it had been ages since you last pulled a joke on harry, yet only the other day he pulled one on you with the help of the boys.

"are you ready yet or are you still laughing at your phone?" harry came back into the bedroom, pulling his navy blue nike hoodie over his shirt.

"i am ready, in fact," you got up, tiptoeing to gently grab a hold of his face, pressing your lips to his. "and the things on my phone will always be funnier than you."

"good joke," he smiled a false smile at you, squeezing your waist before grabbing the keys off of the dresser.

"i still can't believe you're driving. wait, pose with the keys, let me get a photo for your mum."

"don't get too used to this..."

harry walked out before you to put his shoes on, but seeing as you already had yours on, you asked him to unlock the car for you. to him, it seemed you were just eager to leave but really, you had to make sure that there were items in the backseat.

placing one of your tote bags in there, you evenly spread out one of the jellycats that you left in your car and another bag full of spare things. putting the camera at an angle that was able to capture both you and harry, you smiled giddily. soon enough, harry joined you in the driver's side, about to start the car.

"wait!" you called out. "i think i forgot something in the back."

"can't you get it whilst i drive? it's not me you forgot, right?"

"ha ha ha," you rolled your eyes. "no, i might rip it apart by accident."

harry shook his head, nonetheless not starting the car before he looked dead into your camera. he did wonder why you were recording, yet he never actually brought it up.

messing about in the back, deciding which item to use first, you decided on the jellycat.

it was an octopus, one that faith had got you from a trip in florida that she and ethan went to.

"here she is!" you smiled, pulling the jellycat back and purposely hitting it into harry. you did it gently, but not too gentle to the point where he didn't get irritated.

jumping as it made contact with his arm, harry frowned. "ow?" he said, looking at you, but you were too busy dusting off the jellycat.

"hm, actually no." you turned back around to put the stuffed animal back, this time reaching for the tote bag.

luckily, it didn't have anything too sharp in it, so you wouldn't actually hurt harry.

again, you pulled it back with enough force this time slightly jolt harry out of his relaxed position. "are you alright?" he asked, blinking at you.

"huh? what d'you mean?"

"you've just... full on wacked that into me?" he said, more so asked, in shock.

"did i?

"yes?!" you could've sworn you saw his eye twitch, having to restrain your laugh.

"oh," was all you mustered out, looking into the bag as if you actually needed something from it.

harry shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he waited for you to finish. "can we go now?"

"un, not yet actually," and you turned again to the backseat, this time grabbing the last bag.

pulling it back again, it hit harry in his arm, but this time he grabbed the bag from you, tossing it back in the backseat.

"harry! i needed that," you gasped, again to hide your laugh.

"no you didn't, y/n, unless you were using it to target me again" he mimicked your whiny voice.

you didn't know what had you more speechless, the mimicking or his reaction to your silly little prank.

"i wasn't targeting you..."

harry turned to you, giving you the most dead straight look ever. "cut it out, you hit me in the arm three times."

"maybe you were just too close to me."

"i— what?!"

you both stared at each other; harry with a look of shock and slight irritation and you with a serious look that you couldn't quite hold, bursting out in laughter soon after.

"oh my god!" you managed to say in between laughs. "you should see your face!"

"right, let it out. it's not that funny," harry shook his head at your state.

you leaned forward to grab your phone from where you left it, rewinding the last part where harry three the bag in the back. "oh, this is gold."

"you're a right wind up, you know that?" harry said, refusing to give you the satisfaction of know your trick worked on him.

"oh, i know," you smiled at him. "but you live me regardless."

"unfortunately."

"hey," you pushed a hand in his face, instantly groaning when you felt his tongue poke the same hand. "god, just drive."

[mrshowlettsgarden]

The Day We Met - Logan Howlett: the one where Logan meets reader the day he arrives at the X - mansion

─➭ pairing: Logan Howlett x professor!fem!reader

─➭ content warning: fluff, flirty; this is loosely base off of the first xmen movie

─➭ note: welcome to my first post! I'll start taking requests! (prompt list)

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Logan Howlett definitely didn’t welcome the invitation of practically being kidnapped by a couple of freaks in black and loud leather suits. The teenager he was with in the car accident, Rogue, did though because she found a place to call home and Logan? Well, he claimed he didn't need one to the Professor as he introduced himself and the others to Logan. But Charles made a bargain with Logan.

“While you stay here, Dr. Grey and I will help regain the memories you had lost,” Charles said calmly. 

A dirty look was seen on Logan’s face when the bald man said that. “Now why would I let you or her get into my head, huh?” he scowled at the Professor and Jean, who was protectively standing behind him. 

“You never wondered where you got the name the Wolverine from?’ Charles asked as he nodded towards Logan’s dog tags, “We can help you, Logan. You can move on from cage fighting and stay here.” 

A scoff slipped from Logan’s lips as he anxiously looked around Charles’ office almost looking for an out from this stupid conversation. He gave up the idea of figuring out where he came from years ago or at least he thought he did. Of course he wondered where he got his dog tags from and that’s all he’s ever known for as far as he can remember. But he needed to move on from those thoughts or at least forget the fact that he can’t ever regain his memories again. 

Letting out a deep breath Logan looks back at Charles and thinks for a bit longer. What if the Professor can actually help him? What if this is his only chance at figuring out who he is and how he came to be? Can any of these damn geeks actually help at all?

Fuck this bullshit…

“Fine,” Logan snaps against his own thoughts, “But the second shit goes sideways and I don’t like it, I’m fuckin’ outta here.” He points his finger at the Professor. 

Charles smiles and moves towards the door, “Perfect. Now come while I show you around your new home.” 

Logan can’t count how many times he’s scoffed since he woke up in this new place. He reluctantly follows Charles and gives a dirty look to Scott or Cyclops before he leaves the room. Scott sighs as he looks back at Jean and then Ororo, also known as Storm, “He’s going to be nothing but trouble while he stays here.”

“Everyone is troubled when they first start off here, Scott,” Storms says with a smile as she walks out of the room.  

Jean smiles too as she walks towards her fiancé and gives Scott a kiss on the cheek, “You were nothing but trouble too.”

Scott rolls his eyes as he follows Jean out. “I wasn’t even that bad.”

”You blew up Charles' tree.”

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Logan and Charles made their rounds around the mansion. From classrooms to the bedrooms and as well as the laboratories similar to the one Logan first woke up in. As they walked, Charles shared that this place was a school and a home for mutants, mainly youngsters who are trying to navigate the hardships of being a mutant and having mutant powers all while trying to live a normal life as humans do at their age. Charles also shared that Rogue has the choice to stay and rejoin the world as an educated mutant if she so wishes.

“Most of the adults here were my earlier students who are now teachers. I also teach physics throughout the week,” Charles shared.

“Yeah, well I ain’t about to teach shit while I’m here either,” Logan rolled his eyes. 

“No,” Charles lets out a soft chuckle, “But you will be subbing for those who are away and cannot attend their class. Call it your payment while you stay here.” Logan couldn’t get a word in to talk back as Charles moved ahead of him towards a couple of double glass doors that lead outside, “Now for the backyard.” The professor opens a set of doors with his mind and leads Logan to the balcony that oversees the property. 

“This is a backyard?” Logan questions with a raised eyebrow as looks around the massive green field and trees decorating the property. There’s a fountain ahead of them both and if he looks further there is a trail that leads to a pond further back. There’s students running around on a basketball court. Some are sitting in the grass reading or talking. He also sees a small farm to his right and swears he can smell horse shit from where he’s standing. “The hell is this place…”

 Ignoring Logan’s comment he takes him further into the yard onto a cemented path. “You’ve so far met Storm, Scott, and Jean but we have another Professor here who enjoys spending her time outside so she wasn’t part of your welcome party,” Charles says as he leads Logan towards a glass greenhouse.

Logan looks up and around the huge building and immediately notices the green vines and various plants surrounding the perimeter of the glass walls. He almost guesses that it’s a two-story building with how high the roof is and he’s not even inside yet. “Lemme guess, she’s got a green thumb for powers,” Logan scoffs with assumption behind his tone. 

Charles laughs as they walk towards the double doors, “Something like that,” he says.

And before they even reached the door, two brown branches covered in leaves on both sides of the door began to move towards the door handles. Logan’s eyebrows furrow on high alert as he watches the branches turn the handles to open the doors for the two of them to enter. After both doors open, Logan is greeted with the greenest view he’s ever seen. While it’s not a two-story building like he thought, the high ceilings were a matching height with trees set up around the huge room.It’s like he walked into a second backyard. He can see and smell the collections of plants and flowers filling his senses as he and Charles walk further into the greenhouse. 

And as the further they walk the more Logan can see different landscapes that he assumes correlate the plants to where they’re originally from. He follows the professor as he makes a turn to their left around a hedge to a research area decorated with science equipment and desks for the students. 

“Professor?” a soft female voice calls out anxiously, “Why is everyone telling me there’s a wolverine running around the mansion?” Logan hears Charles softly laugh at the question. “If there’s an actual animal running around, I don’t know how to feel about that because everyone is stressing me out about being eaten!”

There’s a concerned tone in the voice and Logan nearly rolls his eyes at the woman’s thought of him being the animal “running around” and him “eating” them. Before he can bark out a snarky comment, you come around a different corner of a group of plants with a watering can in your hands. Logan cannot deny the fact he almost lost his breath at the sight of you. But he shook the fluttering feeling away before it settled in his chest. 

“Oh!” you say in surprise and pure embarrassment as you see the professor and the “animal” you were stressing about standing tall and intimidating behind Charles’ wheelchair. You really want to slap yourself with the watering can for believing the damn plants about being eaten by a wolverine. 

Charles smiles as he moves closer to you. “No, my dear. No animal,” he speaks softly to you, “This is Logan. The Wolverine that your friends were warning you about.”

You feel your body heat up with more embarrassment while you nervously laugh at the professor’s words. But the nervous smile you were holding went away in a split second as you locked eyes with a pair of scowling hazel ones across from you. You shy away from the dirty look Logan was giving you. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out, “If I knew you weren’t an actual wolverine, I wouldn’t have called you an animal… That was very rude for them to say that about you.”

“Them?” Logan questions with a slight attitude.

“The plants,” Charles says like a proud father would sound as he turns himself towards Logan who stood locked in his place, “Logan, this is Dr. Y/n L/n. She teaches biology to the students here in the greenhouse.” 

Logan hums as his eyes study your face and he sees that you move your gaze away from his and it makes him smirk. “So, your mutation is making friends with plants?” he chuckles as he looks at his surroundings.

You look back at him with a slight frown at the overused assumption about your powers. “I can move and grow plants at my own will,” you sigh out with a disappointed look in your eyes but you carry a neutral face, “Communicating with the plants is a bonus…” Logan looks back at you after you answer and sees the disappointing look in your eyes and he starts to feel bad for trying to pick fun at you. 

“I was giving Logan a tour of the property. He will be staying with us for a while,” Charles says as he notices the soft look Logan's holding as he looks at you. With a knowing smirk he turned his full attention to you and you looked back at him, “Y/N, why don’t you continue the tour for me and show Logan his room? I sense that Jean is requesting my presence back in the lab,” he lies through his teeth as he sends you a picture of one of the vacant rooms for Logan from his mind.

Not knowing the real hidden reason for making you finish the tour for him, you nod your head with an understanding look. “Will do, Professor,” you say in a gentle tone. 

Charles moves away from you and past Logan going back toward the doors, “I will see you two for dinner.”

And with that Charles left and silence took over the air between you and the bruting man standing across from you. “Um, well let’s take you to your room. I’m sure you’ve had a rough day,” you say as you put the watering can on top of the table next to you. Logan nods as he begins to follow behind you to leave the garden. 

As he follows you towards the door, Logan sees you raise one of your hands as green like dust form from in between your fingers and with a wave of your fingers he feels something shift in the room. He turns around back towards the greenhouse and sees the branches and vines move to close down the lamps illuminating the gardens in the room then he hears the sound of water in the background slowly die out from the fountains. When he looks back towards you, he swears he sees your eyes turn from green back to your original eye color. 

“Ready?” you ask with a small smile.  

Logan nods silently again and follows you out. 

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The walk back into the mansion was quiet. You nervously played with your fingers as you led him inside and all the way upstairs. As you both walked through the hallway of the corridor, Logan couldn’t help but to steal a glance towards you as the afternoon sun slowly turned to evening. The light that was shining through the window at the end of the hall brightened your facial features that he couldn’t see back inside the greenhouse. He wanted to look at you a little longer but he knew he'd already pushed your boundaries from earlier so he looked away before you could realize.

You then walked a couple of extra steps ahead of him towards a closed door to what he assumes is his room. You open it and extend your arm out with a soft smile. “This is your room,” you say and Logan walks in silently with his hands behind his back to look around. “You have your own bathroom around the corner right here,” you maneuver around the room to open another door to the said bathroom. Then you look towards another side of the room and point to a closet and a set of drawers, “You should have enough room for your things to put in there too.”

The brunette haired man hums in acknowledgment as he walks about his new home. He opens and inspects his closet then turns towards you. “And where is your room?” he asks as he walks towards you. 

Your eyebrows raise at his question. “Down the hall,” you say in a flat tone as you stare at him. Logan hears the faintest attitude behind your words as a soft smirk forms on his lips. You almost want to back away from how intimidating he’s being but that's just because he’s so freakishly tall and built compared to you. Your soft gaze meets his as he’s just an arms length away from you. “Do you need anything else, Logan?” you ask in a soft tone. 

His hazel eyes analyze your face a little better up close and…god you’re so fucking beautiful. He’s eternally beating himself up on the inside for being a brash asshole to you in the beginning. Seeing you this close is making this fluttering feeling in his chest come back again and he’s not going to fight it this time. His gaze moves from your eyes to your rosy lips and he has to take a deep breath to stop himself from making a move on you. Logan can already feel how good it’ll feel to have your lips against his as his hands move gently across your body and down to your –

“Logan?” you snap him out of his daydream that he blinks away from, “Are you alright?”

No… No he’s not. He can feel himself getting hard at the thought of him just kissing you. 

What a damn pervert…

“I’m sorry for earlier,” he says back in a gentle tone, “Didn’t mean to make fun of you or anything like that about your powers.”

A soft cheeky smile formed on your lips at his words. He then realized that he wanted to keep seeing that cheeky smile from here on out. “It’s okay, Logan,” you say back, “Take it as payback for when my plants and I called you an animal when you're not.”

An airy laugh slips from Logan’s mouth. He moves his eyes down to your hands where you’ve been nervously playing with your fingers and then grabs a hold of one of them with his calloused hand. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you watch him guide your hand towards his lips. His soft lips lightly meet your knuckles before he looks back at you. “Still… That wasn’t right of me, darlin’”, he says.

You can feel your cheeks warming up from the gesture and your words nearly don’t form in your head or voice. You gently pull your hand away from his with a small but nervous giggle. “You haven’t been here for a full day and you’re already flirty your way in,” you joke as you slowly walk backwards towards the door. “You should’ve waited to settle in first at least.” 

Logan smirks as he watches you walk away from him, “Don’t be afraid to like it, darlin’” Your pretty smile graces his eyes again as you nod and take your leave as you close his door. Logan lets out a near blissful sigh as he sits down on the bed. He runs a hand through his unruly hair nervously before laying down on his back to look up at the ceiling. 

“Maybe, I’ll stay a little longer…”

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[queers-gambit]

Love What You've Done with the Place

song by Rascal Flatts

prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.

It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.

So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.

It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.

Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.

His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.

Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.

He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.

Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.

He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.

"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."

"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.

"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."

He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.

"What?" You giggled.

"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."

You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.

Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.

But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.

This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.

He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.

It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.

When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.

How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.

The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.

"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."

"Fuck off with that!"

"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"

Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "

"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"

It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."

This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."

Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.

It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.

However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.

Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.

It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[slut4thebroken]

Daddy’s Little Girl

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepdad!Raymond Leon x reader

Summary | Your stepdad catches you doing something you shouldn’t be.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, very large age gap, technically incest, innocence kink, protective (controlling) Ray, grinding, pillow humping hehe, praise, degradation, spanking, punishment?, humiliation, virginity checks, daddy but not the kink?, he kind of hates everyone except you tbh.

Words | 3.7 k

Notes | Idk I feel like the end maybe got a lil ooc but I feel like it’s not enough to be out of place in the fic.

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Tonight was movie night, your favorite night of the week. For the longest time, your step dad refused to do this. You’d beg and beg, and he’d stare at you with that hard, unrelenting gaze until you gave up. That was while you still called him Mr. Leon. That was before your mom skipped town, leaving you with him. You were 16 when that happened and Raymond seriously considered sending you off to some orphanage. It was only two more years anyway. 

But over time, the idea started to make his stomach churn and his jaw clench in anger. That was when he started treating you like his stepdaughter, rather than some child he was stuck with. That was when you started calling him daddy. 

The first time, it surprised him. Girls your age have long since grown out of calling their fathers ‘daddy’ and started calling their boyfriends that instead. But he could tell you were being genuine and not just making a move on him or trying to rile him up. It took a while, but eventually he got used to it. He even started calling you a few pet names as well. That was the first sign that he’d gone completely soft toward you. 

The second was when he actually agreed to have a movie night with you… As soon as he reluctantly said yes, you practically squealed as you ran to the couch, telling him to make popcorn while you got everything ready. 

You didn’t try to get closer to him that time. But the next time, you sat in the middle of the couch rather than on the side, still not touching him yet. The third time was when you tried to lean your head on his shoulder. He jerked away from you, mostly out of pure instinct, but when he saw your pouting face, he sighed heavily and let you do it anyway as he sat there, his body completely stiff. 

It only progressed from there, until he finally started getting used to holding you while you snuggled into his chest. He almost… liked doing it— not that he would ever admit that though. When you were in his arms, he felt like he was protecting you, keeping you safe. From what? He didn’t know. Maybe it was just paternal instinct. 

As you got older though, he got more protective. He started setting rules, most of which you were fine with. It was the little ones like bedtime by eleven on school nights or homework before fun that you didn’t like. But you followed them anyway. 

The first time you brought a boy home… he almost committed a felony, to put it simply. He never came back though— thankfully— but you yelled at him for scaring him away when you were just trying to work on an assignment together. That eased his nerves, but he still didn’t regret what he did. However, that prompted him to have a talk with you. Not the talk, you weren’t ready for that yet, he decided. 

He sat you down and told you about boys your age and their intentions and what they’d do to you if given the chance. He was trying to scare you, and it worked. He slept easy knowing that your nights were spent watching movies with him, rather than partying or having sex. 

You put on pajamas and fuzzy socks and he wore sweatpants and a shirt. While you settled on the couch and browsed for a movie, he was busy making some popcorn for you both. 

“What about this one?” You asked as he walked in and sat down next to you. 

“What’s it rated?” He seemed wary. 

“R… But I’ve seen R rated movies before!” He glanced at the screen, then turned back to you with a sigh. 

“Fine. Just this once, you know I don’t like you watching really graphic content.” You bit back a grin and pressed play. He held the popcorn in his lap and you rested your head on his shoulder, both of your lower halves covered by the blanket. 

It started out fine. There was a lot of cursing and some violence, but it wasn’t too bad. What was bad was the super graphic and super long sex scene. You shifted awkwardly and looked at your lap. Should you just watch and pretend like this isn’t weird? That’s what he’s doing…

When you folded your legs up and rested them on his thigh, he placed a warm hand just above your knee. You cleared your throat and buried your face in his chest a little. 

“It’s just a sex scene.” He chuckled quietly. 

“I- I know… I’m just not used to watching it s’all.” He hummed in response and started brushing his thumb back and forth on your thigh, making your shiver. 

“We can watch something else.”

“No! I- I’m not a child. I can watch a… a— sex scene.” You said the last two words quietly and your cheeks heated up in embarrassment. 

“I know you can, princess. I’m saying you don’t have to.” You could tell he was amused, but you were getting more and more flustered. 

“Well, I- I want to.” You decided. He was fine with that. Even though he didn’t really want you watching this kind of stuff, he liked watching you blush and squirm. 

The sex scene was over and you relaxed into him, focusing on the movie again. The rest of it was more violence and cursing, then it was over. When you yawned and snuggled into his chest, he brought an awkward hand up to your shoulder, trying to pull you away. 

“Bed time.” You let out a low whine, but stood up anyway. “Go get ready for bed.” 

“Mhm.” You mumbled sleepily. You brushed your teeth and finished your nightly routine, but as soon as you laid down, you noticed the warm feeling in your belly and the ache between your legs. You’ve felt this once or twice, but you’ve never acted on it before. You laid there, desperately trying to ignore it and just fall asleep, but it wouldn’t go away and you kept thinking about his hand on your thigh and the way he smells and how safe you feel in his arms. Letting out a quiet whine, you pressed your thighs together and squirmed a bit, trying to ease the ache. It only got worse though. 

You turned on your side and squeezed your thighs together harder as your hips started moving back and forth, chasing pleasure that wasn’t there. You heard running water as he washed the dishes, so with the knowledge that he was too busy to catch you doing something inappropriate, you got up on your knees and placed a pillow between your legs. 

The movement of your hips was awkward at first, but you quickly picked up a comfortable pace and continued that for a while. You felt so dirty and perverted doing this, but you couldn’t stop. Especially not when you imagined doing this on his thigh instead. Would he grab your hips to help you? Or maybe he’d lay back and watch you hump his leg like a dog. 

You whimpered and closed your eyes as your head fell forward. Maybe he’d let you grind on something else… something much more R rated. The thought had you moaning quietly before you could stop yourself so you bit your lip to keep any more sounds in. You’ve only started having these thoughts about him recently and they confused you, but made you feel good, so you didn’t try to shut them down. 

Your belly felt like it was tightening and filling with heat, and you started panting as you bucked your hips faster. You weren’t exactly sure what you were feeling. All you knew was that the thought of stopping made you want to cry in desperation. 

“Are you all ready—” The door suddenly opened and you practically jumped away from the pillow as you stared at him with wide eyes. The feeling in your tummy was slowly leaving and you tried not to whine out loud because of it. “What were you doing?” He asked, tone a complete 180 from only a few seconds ago. 

“N-nothing, I was… I was getting ready for bed.” He slowly shut the door and you swallowed audibly as you waited for what was next. 

“You were getting ready for bed with your pillow down there?” He asked, obviously not believing you. You bit your lip as you nodded, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes and he stalked closer. You held your breath as he neared the bed, but when he reached for the pillow, you were too slow to try and grab it first. He held it up to his face and inhaled deeply, making your cheeks heat up as you squirmed uncomfortably. 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to watch that movie. You get these ideas in your head and soon enough your whoring yourself around for every guy in this fucking city.” 

“No! No, I- I wouldn’t…” You didn’t want to whine, but his words were embarrassing you. He set the pillow down then sat next to it with a heavy sigh. You watched him pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes. 

“I guess this is my fault… I should’ve talked with you a long time ago, I was just scared.” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you schooched closer to him. 

“Scared?”

“Of losing my little girl. But clearly I need to accept the fact that you’re a young woman now. You can’t be my little girl forever.” You’ve never heard him sound so sad. 

“Yes I can.” You frowned. 

“Princess… You’re already 18. I don’t think that’s possible.” He chuckled dryly. 

“But… I- I want to be your little girl.” Your frown deepened and your eyes started to burn with tears. “Forever, daddy.” You whined. 

“I know, baby. But that’s what happens, you have to grow up, no matter how much you don’t want to.” You were getting even more confused and upset. What does this mean? Will there not be anymore movie nights? Will he not make you hot chocolate or read to you or tuck you in before bed? “And now’s the time. You’re already getting curious about big girl things.” 

“No! I- I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, daddy— I promise. I’ll do anything, just— please…” You cried, giving him puppy dog eyes as your bottom lip wobbled. 

“You want to stay my little girl?” He asked quietly, bringing a hand up to brush your hair out of your face. 

“Please.” You whined and he nodded. 

“You have two choices; you can be a big girl and I’ll teach you whatever you need to know to be safe, or… you can be my little girl, but you’ll need to be punished for your behavior.” 

“The second.” You didn’t even hesitate. 

“Okay, baby. Over my lap.” When you started moving to lay on his lap, he stopped you. “Other way.” You obeyed and laid across his thighs, pushing the pillow away so you could be comfortable. 

“No no no, princess.” He chuckled quietly. “That’s part of the punishment. You’re going to keep your face in your mess as a constant reminder of why you’re being punished right now.” With a low whine, you pulled the pillow back toward you, but kept your head above it. You could see now that there was a tiny damp spot on the fabric, only furthering your embarrassment. 

“Mmph!” Was the only noise you could get out when he placed a firm hand on the back of your head and shoved you down. You jumped when you felt his warm hand on the back of your thigh, slowly moving up. He teased the bottom of your sleep shorts before going back down on the other leg. “This is what you want? To be daddy’s little girl?” 

“Yes!” You cried, but it was muffled because of him still holding you down. 

“Fine.” He roughly pulled your shorts down to your thighs, making you whine and squirm in this hold. “At least you’re not completely gone yet…” He murmured, running a hand over your plain cotton panties. “Ready?” He didn’t let your reply before landing a hard smack on your ass, making you cry out. He did the same to the other cheek, then grabbed your underwear and pulled them up to expose more skin. 

You moaned quietly when he rubbed a soothing hand over your already sore ass. It felt huge. Sure you’ve noticed his hands once or twice, but it felt like he could grab your entire ass cheek and more with just one hand. 

He hit you again, but this time he didn’t stop until you were crying and reaching back to push him away. He released your head and twisted your arms behind your back painfully, keeping you still. With your head now free, you tried protesting verbally. 

“It hurts, daddy.” You whined. 

“Yeah? Keep your face in that pillow or I’ll use my belt and it’ll hurt a whole lot more.” He warned, making your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t want to find out if he was bluffing or not, so you lowered your head back down, trying not to get too embarrassed by the smell of your own arousal. 

He started spanking you again, lighter this time, but after doing it over and over, the light smacks started to hurt. You cried and squirmed and kicked your feet, trying to get a break. 

“I know…” He cooed, finally stopping to roughly rub and grope your ass, making you wince. “You can take it though.” You shook your head as a quiet sob left you. Your tears haven’t fallen yet, but you knew they were about to. 

“Please— Please… I'm sorry for being bad, daddy.” You whimpered, turning your head to try and see him. He just shushed you and continued playing with your ass for a while. When he got bored of that, he was spanking you again. He only did a few this time, but he hit you so hard… you could barely take it. You were crying now and your struggling picked up until one of your legs slid off his thigh. You held it up by your foot on the ground, but when you tried to raise it again, he placed a firm hand on that thigh to keep it in place. So you relaxed into the new position as he snaked his hand up. 

He cursed under his breath, then moved his hand to pull your panties up even further, making the outline of your cunt more pronounced. His thumb brushed over your slit, but it didn’t go anywhere near where it actually ached. 

“Now, why would my little girl be so wet during a punishment?” He asked innocently, as if his words had a less crude meaning. 

“I- I’m sorry, daddy… Can’t help it.” You whined, squirming again to try and get some kind of pressure on your clit. You couldn't help the moan that escaped when he pulled your panties to the side, then ran a finger through your slit. 

“Clearly you’re growing up just a little bit, but I think we can come to a fair compromise.” You waited anxiously for his proposal. “You can still be my little girl, but we’ll have some adult playtime too.” You were nodding before he even finished. “That means you can only be with daddy. Only big girls do that kind of stuff with other boys.” 

“Only you.” You promised. 

“Since I know how insatiable you're getting though, I’ll have to do checks every week, maybe more, to make sure you’re still my little girl.” 

“Checks?” You asked quietly, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Would you like me to do one now to show you?” You agreed hesitantly and he raised his leg that was under your hips to arch your back a little. When he released your arms, you immediately brought them back up to a more comfortable position. 

He placed both hands on your thighs, just below your ass, and used his thumbs to pull you open even more, exposing you. You tried not to get embarrassed or nervous, but no one’s ever seen down there before. What if he thinks it’s ugly? What if it has a weird smell? Your thoughts were interrupted by him circling your hole with one finger. 

“Ready?” He asked, but barely dipping the tip in your entrance to tease you. 

“Y-yes.” You said through a breath. He slowly pushed his finger in and you fisted the sheets as your head dropped down— you didn’t even care about your scent on the pillow anymore. His finger was so thick and long, and you mewled quietly at the feeling. He curled it against your walls and you let out a choked moan at the new feeling. “What… What are you checking for?” You whispered, unable to speak any louder. 

“Your hymen. That’s something only little girls have. Once it’s gone, that makes you a big girl.” He explained, continuing to move his finger inside you at a torturously slow pace. 

“Daddy…” You whined breathily. The only response you got was a quiet hum, telling you to finish what you were wanting to say. “Feels good..” He suddenly pulled his finger out, forcing a strangled sob out of you. “No— please! Please keep going.” You cried as he wiped his finger on your ass to clean it off. 

“Shh. While I’m here, I might as well do a full check. Lay down.” He pulled your shorts all the way off, then you moved to the center of the bed and laid down on your back as he settled between your legs. His thumbs were pulling you apart again, but this time his finger went above your hole. Your breath hitched and your eyes fluttered closed as your hips rocked, trying to get more friction. When he brushed a finger over your clit, you jolted and released a loud moan. 

“This is only for daddy to touch, do you understand? No boys, no hands, no pillows.” You nodded as you panted and bucked your hips again. 

“Only for daddy.” You mumbled almost incoherently. He continued brushing over your clit with feather light touches, but the feeling in your belly was getting more and more intense. “Please…” You whined, squirming even more. 

“Do you even know what you’re begging for, little girl?” You shook your head as your hips started moving more frantically now, like how they were when you were on the pillow. 

“Please, daddy.” You moaned, the feeling in your tummy growing tighter. He suddenly removed his finger again and you cried out loudly, all but throwing a tantrum in response. “Please! Please don’t stop..” You sobbed. “It hurts, daddy… please make it go away.” Your voice was a pathetic whimper, but you ignored the embarrassment, focusing on giving him puppy dog eyes and a pout instead. 

“No.” You let out a long bratty whine, making him bring his hand down on your clit with a loud smack. He didn’t hit too hard, but it was hard enough to make you choke on a gasp, and then silence you. He grabbed the pillow and tossed it to the ground, then sat on the edge of the bed. “Finish what you started.” 

“But,” He raised his brows, warning you to stop disobeying him and just do it. So with a pout, you moved to the floor and straddled the pillow. 

“Atta girl. Do it just like how you were when I walked in.” You blushed at the reminder, but slowly lowered yourself onto it and started moving your hips. It didn’t take long for you to get desperate enough to show your enthusiasm without shame. But you were also getting impossibly more desperate for him. 

“Daddy… please.” You whined. “Wanna touch you.” The way you whimpered and looked up at him with puppy dog eyes made him fold almost instantly. 

“Where?” 

“Wanna do this, but… on your thigh.” He sighed, but patted his leg and you scrambled up to straddle it as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Better?” You bit back a grin as you nodded. He suddenly grabbed your hips and started moving you against his thigh, but you quickly picked back up and started rutting against him desperately. Now that you could smell him and feel his warmth, and his strong hands holding your hips, your tummy was getting impossibly tighter with arousal. All of the friction on your clit was starting to hurt a little, but you couldn’t stop. Not now. 

“Such a good girl…” He cooed, making you whine and ride his leg faster. “I’m gonna teach you all the ways little girls can please their daddies. Do you want that, baby?”

“Mhm.” You were too spaced out to respond properly. “Daddy, it— I…” You choked out, not even knowing what it was that you were actually feeling. 

“It’s okay. Keep going.” You whined at his encouragement but obeyed eagerly, wanting to feel this pleasure longer. Your sounds got louder and your hips moved even faster until you mewled quietly as your body convulsed. You were shaking and writhing from the intense pleasure and his hands started pulling your hips when you weren’t able to focus on moving them anymore. “Good girl… Ride it out.” He said quietly and you squeezed your eyes shut as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He kept grinding your hips down on his thigh and you were sobbing out moans until it finally subsided and the achy feeling was gone. 

“How was that?” He asked, loosening his grip to an intensity that wouldn’t leave bruises. 

“What… what was…” You were panting heavily, trying to catch your breath and calm down. 

“It’s called an orgasm. Only I can give them to you, do you understand?” His voice was soft but still stern. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, now so much more tired than you were a few seconds ago. He pulled the covers back, then picked you up by your hips and placed you on the bed. You laid down, then he brought the covers up and handed you your stuffed animal before tucking you in. “My little girl.” He whispered, pushing your hair out of your face. You blushed and smiled sleepily. “Only mine.” 

“Only yours..” You mumbled incoherently and he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, filling your stomach with butterflies. 

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[alilobsessive]

Chips in my pocket and bloodstains on my hands

The Squid game prompt by @jellyfishmoon97 has been eating away at my mind since I read it, so I made this! Enjoy! Also I have never watched Squid Games all a know from it is from osmosis back when it first came out and now.

You’ve tried so many things before this, even calling your father. The bastard hung up on you before you could even explain. Admittedly you did a poor job at it, but you had never once asked for anything from him before. Couldn’t he have just listened, but now you’re here, risking your life to save the person you love the most. The only person left in your hate filled life that matters, your son. Even if you die trying.

Tw: Unspecified terminal illness, child abandonment, spousal abandonment, violence, death, murder, minor character death, reader intentionally kills several people.

——————

You tap your foot nervously, anxiety chewing away at your very core, the phone buzzes once “come on, come on” you mumble chewing on your finger. Your face is flushed from a combination of tears and the cold, this is the last person you wanted to talk to buzz twice. But you need it, need him to answer, it’s life or death, you can’t take out any more loans, you’re going bankrupt, buzz thrice. You need him to pick up, you need to save- click “what do you want” the familiar voice says, cold and unfeeling. You haven’t talked to him in years, if you had it your way you never would. But you need his help “I-“ you choke up, you’ve practiced what to say repeatedly. But actually saying it is a completely different story, telling this man ‘my son is dying, I need money to afford his treatment’ is a lot harder than you thought it would be. “Well?” He says impatient, panic seizes through your body “I need money” you spit out and then instantly cringe. You could have definitely explained that better, it’s quite on his end so you quickly add “It’s for my-“ he cuts you off. “Of course this is what you would call me for” “what-“ “you’re just like your mother” you’re stomach drops. “NO WAIT IT'S FOR MY-“ he hangs up “… son” you stand there.

Your phone is still held up to your ear as everything finally hits you. Fear, sorrow, dread, anger, helplessness, your grip on your phone tightness, your body rigid, tears blurring your vision. You throw your phone to the ground with a loud “FUCK!” It bounces then skids on the floor, cracks forming on it. You crouch in this dirty alleyway sobbing uncontrollably. Body shaking, you can’t do it, you failed, you’re useless, your son is going to die and it’s all your fault.

You met your Wife or well ex Wife before you even left Wayne Manor, the two of you didn’t go to the same school but you hung out at the same places. The two of you had a whirlwind romance, not the smartest idea but it just felt right. You never felt more at peace with another person in your entire life. They’re your soulmate, still are even after everything. You know it’s stupid, still loving someone even after they left you and your son, but no one said emotions made sense. The two of you moved in together, got married and eventually had your son. Cecil is your pride and joy, one of the best things to ever happen to you, but he was born sick. Very sick, his treatments are costly and regular, without which he would die. Neither of you could afford it, but you didn’t give up on him, couldn’t give up on him. Dispute the nagging voice in the back of your head saying it would be a mercy to just let him die. You just can’t, your Wife could though, she had already accepted the fact that your baby is as good as dead. That you can’t save them, not with your funds. It was a constant fight with her, intel one day, she just left.

You can’t blame her, no matter how much you want to, you just can’t. Maybe in another life you would have done the same. But not in this one, you would rather die than leave Cecil behind, not like your father did to you, not like your mother did to you. Not like what everyone in your life did to you, you never want Cecil to know that pain. Which is why you went into debt, which is why you took out loans, which is why you called that bastard of a man. The great Bruce Wayne, you’re father. Which is why you're crying on the ground, the next best step is to move out of your apartment. Then you won’t have to worry about rent and can just live out of your car. You already sold anything of value anyway and not like Cecil can leave the hospital at this rate. He might never be able to, but you don’t want to think about that.

You just sit there, sobbing your eyes out as someone approaches you. You quickly turn around and pull out a knife, this is Gotham after all. “Hold on!” The stranger in an expensive suit holding a briefcase says, “I have something for you” you look at him suspiciously as he puts down the briefcase. You expect a gun, for you to be shot right then and there. Instead he opens the briefcase and pulls out an envelope, one with your name on it. He hands it over and you stare at it suspiciously, it’s thick and heavy. Whatever is inside, there’s a lot of it. “Go on” he says, motioning for you to open it. Hesitantly you do, admitting expecting to be fear toxined or Joker gassed. But instead what’s inside is money, a lot of it, quickly counting it all it's just enough to pay for Cecil’s health care for another month. Just a month, but it’s more than you could ever dream off.

Looking up at the man, your eyes narrow, “what’s the catch?” He just smiles at you, a very familiar smile. A smile of someone being polite but is internally looking down on you. “No catch” he says then reaches back in and hands you a card “for this batch at least” that caught your attention. Taking the card you look at it confused, just a few shapes and a phone number. “I’m a representative of a game show” you look back up at him, “it was originally in Korea, but it’s been doing so well we’re expanding to America. You and contestants all over the country, all of which with financial difficulties will be playing several games to win 31 million dollars. If you agree that is” 31 million, 31 million that’s more then you were planning on asking Bruce for.

But dispute this, it’s still suspicious, they were clearly watching you for a long time, a very long time. Scoffing slightly you look away “this some villain type shit?” The man’s smile drops, you let out a quick laugh “oh? It is? What is this a killing game?” He doesn’t respond, “so it is, what villain set this up? It’s the Joker right? Sounds like something he would do, maybe the rider?” He shakes his head. “No one you would know, just call the number on the back if you want in” and with that the man left. 39 million, honestly you would prefer more, but beggars can’t be choosers. Busides, you would do anything for your son.

Even if that meant killing.

Tim really didn’t want to be here, but Bruce needed someone to infiltrate these games. He had on a stupid fucking gold and diamond encrusted animal mask and the most expensive suit he owned. This was a test of every fiber of his being, apparently for decades several members of the elite from the US to Europe would take trips to Korea. These trips where to watch an event called The Squid Games, named after the annual last competition of these games. The winners would get several million dollars, the losers death. All for the elites own twisted amusement, for six days they would watch as 456 players slowly die until only one person was left. It’s horrendous, disgusting and deeply upsetting that the organizers thought he would be into this. Who even told them he would be into this? Whatever at least this lets Batman take this whole thing down. Hopefully there spy inside the games comes back out safely.

As he took his seat he spotted several people, some were clearly from the court of owls. Which makes sense, this feels like their cup of tea. But another one, he could recognize even without the mask. The man made his stomach drop, it also explained how he got here. Ra’s Al-Ghul, the demon's head of course he would be into a game like this or at the very least invite Tim here to fuck with him. Said man approached Tim, clearly recognizing him to, “it’s a pleasure to see you here” “I can’t say the same” Ra’s just hums at this. “The show's about to start” is all the man says, going over to his seat, right next to Tim’s. He wants to kill this man so bad, but he can’t. Whatever, Tim’s gaze is on the large screen, he can hear the voices of an announcer presenting and explaining things to the audience and contestants.

You were ready, prepared for blood to be on your hands, to die by the hands of others. The arrangements were made so that if you didn’t return in a week’s time you would be reported missing. You hoped your Wife would be informed, that they would learn of your passing and take care of Cecil or pull the plug. But if not you made it so he would go to your next of kin, dispute what you desire. He is the man listed on your birth certificate. Although you would prefer none of those options to go down in a winner take all game like this your chances of winning are 1/459. But because of this weather you live or die, you win. What you weren’t prepared for was it not being a killing game. Well everyone else was acting like it wasn’t, so either they haven’t realized it is or they're all psychopaths. Then again you are completely cool with killing any of them at this moment. So what that says about any of you is up for debate.

“Hay cutie!” A tall woman says as she approaches you in the waiting area. You glance over at number 123, your stance is rigid, back straight, you are ready for anything. She clearly isn’t, dispute the pure confidence she exudes. No one here is, there all mingling and talking to each other. If this was a normal game show you would be doing the same, but intel proven otherwise, this isn’t a normal game show. “What’s someone like you doing in a place like this” “I’m married” is your response, sure you had to sell your ring and sure they left you. But no divorce papers were signed, so legally and emotionally you’re still married. They instantly back off “oh shit- sorry, I’m Daphne by the way” 123 says holding out a hand. You rigidly shake it, it’s far too early to determine if making ally’s is a good idea, but you would rather not have enemies. “You didn’t answer my question by the way” she says putting a hand on her hip. You sigh “Listen, you seem nice, you really do, but I'm not here to make friends.” “Sooo, medical bills?” You glance away from her “my son’s” “aww” she coo’s looking excited. “What is he like?” You resist the urge to tell her every little detail about him. For his curl to the mole on the top left of his forehead to his favorite color, he looks so much like your wife, nothing like you, nothing like your father and you love it. “He’s 4” is all you say to her. Even as she starts pestering you for more details.

Thankfully you're free from the red hard women, is constant pestering. Only to be placed next to a short man with black straight black hair, 376 smiles at you, just as friendly as the other contestants. “I overheard your conversation with Daphne! You don’t look like the family man type” you just stare at him, “I’m here for gambling debt actually, I know, I know. Oh he’s a gambling addict, he’s probably going to spend all his winnings! Heard that a million times over!” You start to tone him out as he talks about his life story. Only for 421, 176 and 321 to join in the conversation, or well up until then a one sided conversation.

The first game is simple red light green light, it shouldn’t be too hard. Then again they might want to trim the crowd as much as possible in the first game. You wonder what the most people to be killed in the first round is. But that’s not important right now, what is moving to the next round. You all run and freeze as soon as the giant creepy statue turns around. Well almost all of you, someone doesn’t stop in time, and is instantly shot dead. There it is, the kicker, several people scatter in a panic. But not you, you don’t move, standing perfectly still, you’re expression stone cold as the people around you drop like flies. Then the machine turns around again, you instantly start running. Everyone left standing finally gets it, finally realized, this is a death game. You run, you freeze, you run again, people die around you, so many people. Finally you make it to the end, just barely missing the robot’s eyes.

“THE FIRST PERSON TO PASS THE FINISH LINE IS NUMBER 7!”

Tim stares in horror, “is that?” “Oh? Are you curious about number 7?” One of the organizers asks Tim, seeing his curiosity. They then pull up their file, their older siblings file, he hears them say your name “Greenwood” the last name is different. But that’s unmistakably you, “there in 1.3 million dollars in debt, filed for bankruptcy the day before they left for the games. Most of it is going to medical bills to pay for their son Cecil Greenwood’s medical bills.” Tim just stares. He feels sick, he never liked them, no one in the family did. Their mother’s a traitor who can’t even be bothered to take her own spawn with her when she robed Bruce. But that didn’t mean he wished for this to happen to them, he didn’t want them to go into so much debt they needed to do this. He was aware they called Bruce not that long ago, was it about this? Did he even know? Bruce looked angry afterwards, sure he disowned them all but legally. But would he really abandon them when they needed him most? Would he? God, he hoped they caught all of that from his wire and camera.

Bruce felt his blood run cold, replaying the conversation from that day over and over again in his mind. He was sitting in his office, the anxiety of the case eating at his mind. This was something kept tightlipped even in high society, you also had been trying to call him for the past hour. It was starting to piss him off, what in god's name could you of all people want. Finally he answered the phone “what do you want” “I-“ you paused, hesitating. “Well?” He said impatiently, he wanted to get this over with, wanted to continue pretending that you and your mother never existed. A mother who he lived so dearly, who he was engaged too, who he was willing to give up being Batman for. Who one day took seven million dollars and ran, leaving him with a broken heart and a 3 month old baby. “I need money” you finally say, and Bruce saw red. He thought he raised you better than that, sure you still ran, abandoned the family. But asking him for money? After what your mother did? “It’s for my-“ but he didn’t want to hear your excuses, you being just as greedy as her. “Of course this is what you would call me for” “what-“ “you’re just like your mother” “NO WAIT IT'S FOR MY-“ and then he hung up. Yes after the call he regretted comparing you to your mother. That was cruel of him, he will admit, he knows you like her just about as much as he does and being compared to her must hurt. But he didn’t want to apologize, didn’t want to admit he was in the wrong.

If he had called back had listened to you when you needed help. He has a grandson, a grandson and he’s sick. He could help but he- he can help- he will help “Dick” Nightwing turns to look at him “me?” “Oracle and Tim are too busy to look into them, the others are taking on less important cases, so it’s your job.” Dick sighs, but looks equally as shaken up as Bruce feels. He quickly starts typing into that batcomputer, Bruce wants to punch a wall. To go in there and take the operation down this instant, but it’s far too early for that. If they go in too soon they’ll lose everything, but too late… he doesn’t want to think about it.

206 people, that’s how many are left, two hundred and six people. That a little over half of the people killed, everyone is shaken up, everyone but you. One of the people walks up at you and grabs your shirt. “YOU KNEW!” 423 screams in your face shaking you, all you do is stare down at him. What you want to do is cry but you don’t, weakness in a game like this will get you killed. “YOU ARE SO CALM! YOU KNEW! ARE YOU IN ON IT!” “Calm down” you say slowly, quickly grabbing 423’s wrist. “CALM DOWN!” “I thought the nature of this game was obvious.” Is all you say. “OBVIOUS!” Another person screams, “of course, then again I am from Gotham, stuff like this is normal” “BITCH IM FROM BLÜDHAVEN!” Another screams, more people are getting angry, and closer to you. So, this is how you die, but before things can get violent a shot is hard. One of the guards shot at the ceiling, “ATTENTION EVERYONE” the scream standing to attention. “WE WILL NOW BE DOING A VOTE! MAJORITY RULES!” Two buttons emerge from the ground, one red, one green with a screen at the front lighting up to show the same thing with the number 0 on each side. “GREEN MEANS THE GAMES CONTINUE RED MEANS THEY STOP! EACH OF YOU WILL LINE UP IN NUMERICAL ORDER!” The two of you are quickly separated and your lead to the front of the line.

You're the highest number alive, the first choice is yours, it’s a no brainer. “WHAT THE FUCK!” One of them screams and you sigh “WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO CONTINUE THIS” you look at the crowd and glare. “I don’t want this money for me” you begin, “It’s for my son, so he can live, so he can be safe, so he can know joy, I’m willing to die for that. I’ve accepted this, I’m ready to die here for the slim chance that he can be safe. I’m willing to die for the people I love, so they get to live a better life. I don’t give a shit about what happens to the rest of you!” You huff walking over to your bunk and sitting down, you watch as one after another each person walks up and presses the button. The air is tense as it goes, red, red, red, green, red, red, green, green over and over. Until finally, finally the number shows up, Green 105 Red 101, the games continue.

Tim feels sick, in a sense it’s almost honorable how willing you are to die for your son. A type of honor, loyalty he never expected from you, but it’s awful how willing you are to throw yours and others lives away just for a slim possibility of his safety. With that, with the collective despair of the crowd the feed ends. He just stares at we’re you were on screen, sitting there calm and collected. A stoic visage that only Bruce can rival. You almost looked like him throughout the whole thing. The chatter of all those around him felt sickening, they were enjoying it, putting bets on who dies. He wants to throw up, even with all his training, even with the job’s he’s done, this is sickening.

The hospital is okay, it isn’t the best in the city but it’s not the worst. It didn’t take long for Dick to find this place, once he got ahold of your credit records he found that most of your money for the past 4 years was sent here. Bruce can’t help but feel it should be better, but with what they could find this is the best you could do. Even that might not have lasted long “Hi! Welcome to Gotham General Children’s Hospital!” The woman at the desk says then her face drops. “Mr. Wayne! What are you-“ “I’m here to visit Cecil Greenwood” she continues to look at him shocked and confused, “he’s my grandson” “he’s your..” the woman looks like she’s still calculating what he’s saying. “Okay.. you just need to sign in” the security here is shit, he signed in quickly and didn’t even need to prove he was telling the truth.

Dick is already investigating your apartment, looking for anything. They already have every person that’s in the game listed as a missing person, you included. “Why are you here sir?” The nurse asks, he sighs “their parent was reported missing and they can’t get ahold of the kids' mother. So I was called as the next of kin.” The woman licks her teeth clearly concerned. “Did you know about him?” Bruce shakes his head “not until earlier today” he hasn’t lied once in this conversation. “I see.. well.. it’s a lot” she says and then begins leading him to the room.

She lightly knocks on the door “Cecil, honey, you have a visitor” and then she opens it. There sitting on the bed, covered in wires and a ventilator is a small child, much too small to be 4 years old. He blinks up at them with tired brown eyes, and a mop of curly black hair on his head. A small hand rubs his eyes clearly having been taken a nap, “hee?” The kid blinks, squinting at him. “I’ll leave you two alone” the nurse says and then leaves, awful security. Then again, even removing one thing will instantly alert the staff. Cecil still looks at him confused “Hey kiddo” he says softly pulling up a chair and sitting down. The kid just stares “who are you?” He says each word slowly and deliberately. He smiles at him “I’m your Grandpa” it feels weird saying that, not wrong, just strange. The kid just continues to stare at him “you’re a lot younger than I expected” is all he says, Bruce chuckles at that “oh?” He nods. “Baba says you might come next week” the boy says seriously, that makes Bruce concerned. Is he? Did they? That’s something to look into later.

“Did they now?” “Ya! Baba go brrr!” He says happily, “what?” “Brrrrrr!” He claps his hands and giggles. Clearly making a joke only he can understand, “I see, you saw your baba earlier then?” “Ya ya!” He continues to clap. “Yesterday! Baba says you come if mama can’t! Do you know we’re mama is?” Cecil asks his smile not leavening, Bruce in fact does know. An apartment in Metropolis, a nice place with two bedrooms, a safe neighborhood, far away from the both of you. Like father like child it seems, the both of you sure know how to pick them. But he doesn’t want to tell the kid that “no” is all he says, the kid just starts. He expects a temper tantrum, but instead all he gets is an “okay!” As he happily flaps his arms around. “It’s okay! Baba doesn’t know either! But we got pictures!” He says happily, “oh you do?” He then drops his arms, smile slightly falling “I mean no, not on me, but they exist!” Bruce hmms. This is going to be a very long conversation. For Bruce at least, kid seems to be having a good time.

Dick stepped into the apartment building, there’s nothing much of note to it. It’s not run down, but there's nothing overly nice about it. He found your apartment with ease, he didn’t even need to pick the lock. He just pushed the door open and it went swinging, that instantly told him a completely different story. The apartment looked long abandoned, there was no peace of furniture to be seen, large amounts of dust already caked over every surface. The only exception being boxes that when he checked were filled with pillows, blankets, clothes and photos of you, your son and your wife. Sometimes all three, other times just two of you. A photo that was taken from your wedding day, a day they never got to see, from Cecil’s birth, to just you and your wife being together, even photos of just your wife. All printed, framed and stuffed away in the boxes.

Sure, it made sense to start packing things away and preparing to leave if you didn’t think you were going to come back. But the apartment has been like this for several months now, more a storage space than a home. He can only imagine what’s been going on in your brain all this time. As he was mulling this over a voice called out “HAY YOU! What are you doing?” Dick turned and saw a short balding man in his late 50’s. He looked at Dick suspiciously, he fully turns to look at the man “I’m looking for my younger sibling, they live here, but well..” he motions towards the everything in your house. “You’re related to the Green kid?” He asked crossing his arms, “yes, they haven’t been responding to any of my calls the last few days. I was getting worried so I came here to check on them.” The man just shrugs, which would be completely unhelpful under normal circumstances. “Sorry man, can’t help you there ever since the Mrs. left they're barely here. If they are it’s only for a few hours. Honestly why they still live here is a mystery to me.” Then they just leave, great complete unhelpful with him trying to understand more about you. Just great, now he’s going to have to talk to more people.

Day two starts with a meal, you sit by yourself, the mood having completely changed. They get it now everyone is on edge, everyone is like you. Well almost everyone, 376 walks up to and sits down next to you. You barely glance at him, continuing to quietly eat your meal “this shit looks like something they would serve at high school!” He says playfully elbowing you. It does? Hu, you thought she was just exaggerating, perks of going to the private school in the city. God you miss your wife, will you ever see her again? Hear her laugh, see her smile, the dimples on her cheeks, the way her hand felt in yours, how she beat a man half to death for making fun of you. 376 is staring at you, was he talking to you? Did he ask you something? “I miss my wife Tails” you say looking at him “what-“ you then turn back to your food “I miss her a lot” you then take a bite of bread. He looks away awkwardly, and then back at you “you uuu, are really passionate about winning” “yes, let me guess you voted to end this?” “Yes” “well” you pat him on his back, “every man for themselves” and going back to eating.

Only to discover it was a team game, fuck. A simple game of capture the flag, the losing team is killed, completely not playing, you're killed. Seriously, is the Joker involved in this? Whatever, you roll up the sleeves of your tracksuit and put on your team's colored bandanna it’s time to get this started. A part of you felt bad seeing 376 on the other side, it’s a shame he has to die. A shame any of them have to die.

Tim watched what quickly devolved into a bloody battle, anxiety turning in his gut. He did his best to watch every movement you made in the crowd. Several people on both sides having been killed by other players, both by accident and on purpose. He watched as you stabbed a man’s eyes out with your own fingers before leaving him there, joining several of your own teammates in infiltrating the enemy lines. It wasn’t you who got the flag to the other side, he wanted to scream when he heard the game was over. So focus on you he didn’t see who won, only for it to turn into instant relief as he saw it was your team that reached victory. Then horror as each member of the losing team, even those that had switched bandannas with the dead was taken, lined up, blindfolded with their own bandanna and shot in the head. One by one, as the winning team was made to watch. So concerned with your own safety he didn’t even check which team their spy was on.

“What” Jason began “the fuck” Stephane looked at the screen in horror, even after the video had long gone dark. Of course as vigilantes everyone in the Bat’s and Bird’s had seen bloodshed, had seen civilians mob. But something about this felt different, maybe it was the elites, gossiping and putting bets on the civilians forced into this game. A type of dehumanizing Tim was clearly blocking out in favor of making sure you were safe. Maybe it was the fact that their own members were in this danger. But whatever it was, it felt wrong “we need to do something now” Jason says turning to Bruce. He shakes his head “we can’t” “BULLSHIT” “Jason!” Bruce almost glares at his son. “We don’t have enough information, we don’t even know we’re the civilian’s are being held right now. If we rush in we could lose all of them, every single one” Jason glares at him and scoffs looking away. Stephane puts a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes it, looking just as uncomfortable with this situation that he feels.

You don’t sleep a wink that night, you’ve never done that before. It felt wrong, so very wrong, you can still feel the squelch of number 217 ‘s green eyes on your thumbs. One of the people who didn’t like you after the events of the previous nights wanted to get rid of you during the free for all. You could barely call any of that a team game. No one was working together, just trying to live and steal. The third day you were dead tired, 376 wasn’t there, would never be there. Now that you think about it, you never learned his name. Adrenaline was the only thing preventing you from passing out. At least you think that’s what’s happening, it feels like a blur, everything does. But this is all for Cecil, if not then why are you here? What was the point of all of this? Was there ever a point? Maybe you should just kill yourself- no Cecil needs to live. That’s the whole point of your existence up until now, making sure your baby is happy and as healthy as he can be.

This is for Cecil

When the group is being brought to a new location a hand touches your shoulder, you quickly turn around and see 123. Looking at her shocked and confused you say “you’re alive??” The woman just blinks at you. “Yes, yes I am” she says looking confused “you thought I died?” “Yes” is all you say, the two of you just continue to stare at each other, awkwardly. Seriously, what are you supposed to say to this woman? “Okay” you give her a thumbs up and a pat on the arm, “good talk” then turn away. You can still feel her eyes staring into your back, what is this woman’s deal?? She’s starting to freak you out. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry!

The guards lead you all to a different area, this place vastly different then the warehouse the rest seemed to be in. Aka they literally took you outside in the dark for some reason, once again they split you into two albeit uneven groups. You being with the smallest of the groups, very confused as you’re handed a knife, every member of your group is. 423 who is still alive and with your group looks at the guards, “what’s preventing us from attacking you with these?” The guard cocks the gun and points it at his face. He instantly backs off, “Today everyone!” A guard calls out, “The game will be playing is Man Hunt!” Oh shit.

Tim stares at the screen eyes wide, “oh shit” he wanted to leave right now, to go in there and stop this. “Each of are 10 contestants here” he motioned to the group you’re a part of, “will have 30 minutes to hunt and kill three other contestants of their choice! Of course the other contestants have the ability to fight back and kill the hunters! It’s not a fun game if they're completely helpless! If they fail to complete such a simple task, well… you all already know what’s going to happen.” They say cheerily. “Well” Ra’s the mother fucker, says clearly intrigued. “I’m sure this is going to be an interesting game” please, please Bruce, B please find them. Don’t let them become a murderer.

This is for Cecil, this is for Cecil, this is for Cecil, this is for Cecil, that’s all that’s going through your head as you watch the head start the others are given. This is what you thought the games would be, everyone killing each other for the amusement of whoever’s watching. Kinda like the hunger games, but in reality no matter how much you prepared to take a life, doing so was much harder. If you kept telling yourself why you’re here, why you’re doing what you’re doing, will it be easier? Hopefully it will, because that’s all you have most days, hope. “Excuse me?” One of the other contestants asks “can hunters kill other hunters” . The guards looked at each other and then one of them called someone. By the end of it the guard turned to look at them, “I don’t see why not” you had a bad feeling about this.

Tim gripped the arm of his seat as he watched the hunters run off. Please B, please, suddenly he got a ping on his hidden earpiece and Oracle’s voice rings through it “I found the location”

“FUCK” another Hunter screams falling to the ground, you watch as he curls up into a ball and sobs. “I can’t do this- I can’t- I don’t-“ a part of you finds it pathetic how willing they are to give up like this. But another part of you gets it, you don’t want to kill either. If this was you when you were younger, before you had Cecil, before you met your wife, you would be doing the exact same thing as him. But that’s not you, the person willing to sit and wait for someone to save you. Not anymore, there’s really only one thing you can do. You stab him in the neck, his eyes widen and blood sprays covering your hands. A gross feeling coils in your stomach, but you have to press on. You’re putting him out of his misery, if he didn’t participate he was going to die either way. Better he die contributing to your own survival then in vain.

You pull the knife out and watch it fall to the ground with a thunk, bloods everywhere, on the ground, on your hands, running down his neck. With a shaky breath you turn around and continue in your hunt. The cold wind sends chills through your body and quickly cooling the blood. Wading through the grass and bushes, careful and quiet. It was admittedly difficult, having no idea how to deal with forests. In fact you didn’t find your next target, they found you. Well technically it was 423, seriously what’s this guys deal? Sure he wasn’t the person who asked, but he seems dead set on killing you. For some god forsaken reason.

He didn’t even give you a chance to speak instantly lunging for you. Dodging out of the way, all that happened was the knife grazing your skin. Leaving a bleeding slash against your shoulder, grunting you spin around and stab them in the back, pulling the knife out. The two of you quickly start exchanging blows, both from your knifes and your own hands. Finally you’re able to kick him to the ground and stab him in the chest, he coughs and grunts in pain. “How do you sleep at night?” he coughs out “let me guess, next to your wife?” Blood trickles down his lips, you don’t dignify him with a response. “Holy shit-“ he practically laughs out “she left you didn’t she? Serves you right you cold hearted bitch-“ you stab him again, this time in the heart and with no remorse. Standing up and kicking the corpse you grunt a little, stumbling slightly. Time for number three.

Signal and several members of the Justice League kick down the door. Tim turns to face them with a smile on his face as he waves, the others around him panic, except Ra’s. Like he knew what was coming, seriously what’s this guy's deal. “Glad to see you could make it!” He calls out, “you-“ one of the Owl members began, “you're a spy?!” He gives them a finger gun, “guilty!” He then stands up and turns to Signal as a mass arrest begins. “Now, are we going next?”

Continuing your hunt something felt wrong, maybe you’re running out of time? No that can’t be, they’ve been regularly calling out the time since this started. Something changed, something you’re not aware of. “7” you whip your head around and point your knife towards the voice. There is 123, why do people keep approaching you? Why is she approaching you? She’s a part of the prey group, unless she thinks she can take you, which scary. But then again not that hard, “you seem confused” “ya no shit, why did you approach me?” She takes a step forward. “How many people have you already killed?” Is all she asks, you tilt your head watching her for any sudden moments. “2” then you lunge at her, only to swiftly be kicked down and pinned on your stomach. The knife is thrown away from you and she pins your hands behind your back. You’re not even mad, it’s a part of the rules. It’s upsetting, this is how you die, but you already accepted you might die in these games.

Quietly waiting for death, you are rudely interrupted from your fate by the true reason you felt uneasy. Mother fucking Batman appears in front of you, cape bellowing as he does. “Starfire” he nods in greeting, “Batman” 123 says, nodding back, holy shit she’s Starfire, holy shit you tried to kill Starfire. Why is Starfire here??? “Get off of them” she stands up, “I’ll go find the others!” And is off. You scramble to stand up, almost tripping as you do so. “We’re going home” “what?” Is all you can say, you’re body shaking, “this operation-“ “you knew?” You’re voice is weak, hands balling into fists. “We’ve been planning this raid since the game-“ “YOU KNEW!” You scream, tears falling down your eyes. “I KILLED PEOPLE BRUCE! I KILLED AND HURT PEOPLE IN THIS GAME FOR WHAT!” He slowly approaches you. “FOR NOTHING! BECAUSE YOU WERE GOING TO SHOW UP AND STOP ALL THIS” he opens his mouth “NO- SHUT UP DON’T SPEAK!” He’s standing in front of you now. Taking your fists you punch him and n the chest over and over “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” Again and again you punch and scream. Intel eventually you can’t anymore “I hate you… I hate you!” You’re body, so exhausted from everything that’s happened finally gives out. You feel like a child as he grabs your collapsing form, it’s humiliating. “I hate you!” You choke out, “let’s go home” is all he says, like you’re nothing more then a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. With a shaky breath and sob your picked up “we’re Cecil?” “I moved him to the best hospital in the city yesterday, don’t worry” you sniffle “I want to see him” “soon” is all he says. You give him one last weak punch before everything goes black.

——————

Reader towards their wife: Once we’re undoomed from the narrative the marriage is BACK ON!

There was another version of this fic we’re Dick finds are Wife and then the two go on a road trip to save Reader’s sorry ass. It ends with both of them at the manor in Reader’s old room. There’s also another version of this fic we’re both reader and wife are in the games. Sadly neither of them came to fruition. Maybe if I make a sequel it will be more Wife focused, because god do I love that woman.

Bruce: you’re wife left you like your mother left me

Reader:

Reader: >:(

Bruce: This is supposed to be a bonding moment, why are you attacking me?